Byakuya sighed to himself as the captains debated Grimmjow's punishment again.

It was a very serious matter, not the sort of thing to be decided lightly. Once Grimmjow was recovered, his verdict would be given to him and he would be allowed to say a few words. Byakuya suspected they might be curses.

He was tempted to curse himself. Unohana was present now, and she'd taken care to make sure a full copy of Grimmjow's medical report was given to all the taichou. It made extremely grim reading and some people, like Zaraki, were impressed by the man's stamina. Others were sympathetic with his pain.

But it just wasn't enough, not with Aizen quietly campaigning against him. Byakuya had never seen anything like it. He was sorely tempted to take Renji's advice and ask to take the man into his Division. And finally, he gave in to that temptation.

"Aizen taichou, my Division has an opening for a Quinta." He said quietly, and all eyes went to him, some quite surprised. "When he is recovered, I would like to request Grimmjow to fill that position." He knew he was causing trouble for himself. But Renji would be pleased, so some of it could be pushed onto his primera. They had been friends, so there was also a good chance that Grimmjow would give them his best. And Aizen would surely leap at the chance. It would allow him to drop any obligation to Grimmjow.

"I fear I must refuse, Byakuya taichou." Byakuya blinked, just barely managing to stop the incredulity he felt from registering on his face. Aizen's tone was gentle and regretful. "I cannot inflict this kind of disciplinary problem on another taichou."

"I… see." Byakuya said slowly, unable to believe what he was hearing. This simply made no sense at all. "But my primera, Renji, was once friends with Grimmjow. I feel he might be better served with my officer as his primera." Surely Aizen could see the logic in that. But the other taichou shook his head.

"I am afraid I must refuse." He said again, and that was the end of it. A transfer required both taichou's to be willing, unless the soutaichou overruled them. And Yamamoto was clearly not inclined to do so. Byakuya watched as the meeting moved on to other things, his head swimming. Clearly, Aizen wanted his sexta to die.

But why?

It was a month before Grimmjow could do more than lift one arm.

That arm was the unbroken one, and he was able to at least feed himself, after someone else had cut up his food. But he required help with everything else, which was humiliating but something he just had to tolerate. The pain involved whenever he needed to use the bedpan… well, it was pretty fucking bad.

But finally, the bones started to mend, if only a bit. His one broken leg was coming along well, but his ankle wasn't. It had been shattered, not merely broken, and it had been splinted both inside and out, with power and a cast. Unohana's gentle touch and the breath of her power had set it on the course to mending, but it would be at least another month before it could bear his weight.

His pelvis was coming along well, his ribs were coming along well, and the deep puncture wounds in his back had healed completely, along with most of the internal injuries. Everything hurt, but he was pleased the first time he managed to make the trip to the bathroom unaided. Being able to pee in privacy was worth every moment of pain.

And as the bones mended, he started to get a bit more adventurous. Unohana wasn't tending him personally at that point, but her healers were more than willing to get him some crutches so he could start to get around. Grimmjow grinned as he thumped around the Division, until Unohana caught him and put him firmly back to bed. That woman was nice, but she could also be scary.

It was during one of his little forays into the real world that he overheard an unnerving conversation.

"…It seems so unfair." Grimmjow paused, listening intently. That voice was familiar. One of the healers who had been tending him, he was pretty sure. "He's been through so much."

"Not to mention, it's a horrible waste of our work." Grimmjow lifted his eyebrows at the tone. Disgust combined with amusement. The first person hissed.

"You're such a prig! Who cares about that? But stopping a segue, with nothing but himself and a human child? That deserves a bit more respect." Grimmjow felt an icy chill at those words. He'd suspected they were talking about him, but now he knew. "Unohana's upset, and Anali thinks that means he's going to be executed." Grimmjow swallowed, hard. He knew Unohana was upset about something, despite the smile she still wore. But he hadn't really thought they would go that far. Backing away as quietly as he could, he went back to his hospital room.

"Shit." He breathed to himself as he thought about it. Someone must have finally gotten sick of all the black marks on his record and decided it was time to do something about it, permanently. "Shit shit shit." Now that he was on the mend, Grimmjow did not want to die. He'd only wanted to die before because it hurt so fucking bad, living had seemed like a chore. And that girl was right, this was fucking unfair. "Shit!" He sat down on his bed and tried to think of what he could do.

His options sucked balls. His powers were pretty much gone. He had a bit of residual, but it wasn't enough to do more than minor charms. He was still pretty much crippled, so he wasn't going to be running very far. Grimmjow swallowed and tried to think of something, then reached up to grip his badge of rank. It was a long shot, but maybe…

Kurosaki? Can you hear me? He tried to force his thoughts through that charm. The kid had a piece of his soul in addition to almost all of his power, so there was a chance it could work. Things are kind of fucked up over here. Could you lend me some power, kid? Nothing. Kid? Still nothing. Grimmjow grimaced, pulling his hand away. Maybe the kid was asleep or something. Time didn't run the same, on both sides of the pond.

He'd have to try again later.

Kurosaki? Ichigo hissed softly in his sleep, turning over as that familiar voice seemed to speak in his mind. But he was asleep, and it only sent him spiraling off into a very interesting dream.

"I'm gay as fuck, kid. And I think you're bi. I can tell you like me." Bright blue eyes and a big, toothy grin were facing him over a library table. In the dream, though, Ichigo wasn't mortified. He was intrigued. Sitting down beside the angel, he leaned close, invading his personal space.

"What if I do like you?" He murmured, gripping the front of the other man's shirt. "What are you going to do about it?" Then Ichigo squeaked as hot, delicious lips were on his, and the blue haired angel shoved him down onto the table. The other students were staring and the librarian was yelling something but he couldn't care less as hard, strong hands worked on his belt. The leather came free and his pants followed, yanked down to his knees.

"Not bad, kid." Ichigo blushed as Grimmjow looked him over appreciatively, his gaze lingering on the erection he was sporting. "Not bad at all. So…" Grimmjow grinned and went down on him so suddenly, Ichigo gasped in surprise as a powerful mouth closed around his cock. The suction was fantastic, as Grimmjow explored him with his tongue, finding all the most sensitive spots. "Mmm." Ichigo moaned, tossing his head back as he was given the first blow job of his life. It was incredible, wonderful and it made him ache for more.

But more was not forthcoming, as the librarian grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. The table and other man seemed to vanish and Ichigo whined as he felt the dream taking a bad turn.

"Detention for you, Kurosaki!"But it wasn't the detention room he ended up in, it was the basement. A basement that was full of spiders with silver darts on their bodies. They started crawling over him and he screamed as a bell began to ring.

"Ah!" Ichigo started out of the dream as his alarm went off, his heart beating a mile a minute. "Oh. Ugh." He lay back on his bed for a moment, one arm over his eyes. "That was an awful nightmare." He mumbed, although the first part hadn't been bad at all. But fantasizing about a dead man, well… that was creepy and futile. Sighing to himself, he pulled himself out of bed to get ready for school.

No matter how much things changed, life still went on.

Byakuya watched as the vote was taken with a heavy heart.

It was a very close thing. The verdict was anything but unanimous, seven to six. But the motion was carried, and there was nothing left to be done. When Grimmjow was fully recovered, he would meet his fate, death by Sokyoku.

It seemed cruel to him to wait, but part of the rules surrounding execution was that the criminal needed to be in good health and sound mind. Those rules had originally been put into place to avoid the abuse of prisoners. Byakuya sighed to himself. He had no doubt that Grimmjow would hear of this very soon. The man wouldn't be put into a restraining collar until he was a bit more healed, however. In his current condition, that could kill him. But he might as well be in a restraining collar. With his injuries and complete lack of spiritual power, the former sexta could not hope to escape.

He would probably try, though. Byakuya knew that. No one who could survive such injuries would tamely accept death, and he knew Unohana was thinking the same thing, from the pinched look on her face. The medical division would have to keep a watch on him to keep him from injuring himself further.

His heart heavy, Byakuya left the meeting to go back to his Division. Renji was there, still working on the paperwork and he sat at his desk without a word to his primera. He began to work on his own paperwork, but then his concentration was broken as a cup of tea was set down beside his hand.

"Taichou, I wanted to say thank you." Renji said quietly as Byakuya blinked at him, then took a sip of his tea. "Rukia said you offered to take him, but Aizen taichou wouldn't approve the transfer."

"It was nothing." Nothing but a futile gesture, in the end. "Do you know why Aizen hates him so much?" He asked quietly. It was not the proper sort of a question for a taichou to ask his primera, but he wanted to know. Renji bit his lip and shook his head.

"No, but… I heard it started as soon as Grimmjow joined his Division. Lilynette talks a lot, and she gets upset about it." Renji said honestly and Byakuya frowned. Starrk's little adopted daughter might have a place in Aizen's Division, but she was no more reliable a source of information than Yachiru. "I don't know why Aizen took him at all if he was going to treat him this way."

"Hm." Byakuya sighed and sipped his tea, looking at his paperwork for a moment without seeing it. "I suppose it doesn't matter now." He was glad that tomorrow there would be some very interesting field work. One of his areas was showing an increase in demonic activity, and he would be handling it personally.

It would be good to get away for a while.

Grimmjow felt almost faint with effort as he tried to project through his badge.

Kurosaki! I really need your help here. He growled, lips pulling off his teeth in a snarl as he tried so hard to make the connection, his head was hurting from the strain. Feed me some power, kid, or I'm going to die.

Grimmjow couldn't know, but Byakuya had been right about how long it had taken for him to get word of his impending demise. Deep down, the sexta was afraid, but for him fear translated easily into anger. And there was plenty of anger to go around.

"Fucking Aizen." He growled to himself, gripping his badge like a lifeline. "Come on, Kurosaki!" Grimmjow was starting to wonder if the kid was dead. If he'd come to the afterlife, they wouldn't have let him keep his charm. And if that was the case, he was screwed. There was nothing left to make a connection with. Finally giving up, he pulled his hand away.

But he was not going to give up. Hissing in pain, he came to his feet and considered how to make his escape. The only answer seemed to be going out the window, but he was pretty high up and his ankle was not healed. Could he do it? It was nighttime, so there weren't many people around, and clearly no one had considered that he might try something so crazy.

And it was crazy as fuck. Grimmjow gasped softly as he put weight on his ankle, but there was nothing for it. He was not going to go out without a fight. Opening the window he swallowed hard, then began the slow and agonizing process of climbing down. Everything felt strained when he finally reached the ground, except for his ankle. That felt like he'd broken it again.

Now where the fuck am I going? He hadn't really thought he would get this far. He'd sort of figured he would probably lose his grip on the wall and break his back or something. The healing Division was surrounded by gardens, full of herbs and fresh vegetables for the people recovering from their injuries. Beyond that was a wrought iron fence. There were gates, but they were guarded this time of night. He couldn't go through those. Shuddering slightly at the thought, Grimmjow began to limp towards the fence. He'd have to go over it. That would be ugly as hell but he didn't have any choice if he wanted to live –

"Where do you think you're going, Grimmjow?" He whirled at that familiar and unwelcome voice, hissing as he accidentally put pressure on his ankle. Ulquiorra was looking at him, and this time he wasn't hiding the loathing in those green eyes. It really made him wonder why the bastard seemed to hate him so much. He hadn't done a thing to him, really. A few smart mouthed comments, sure, but that didn't explain the hatred he was seeing now. Of course, he hadn't done anything to Aizen either, and look where that had gone.

"I'm getting the hell out of here. What does it look like?" He said with more bravado than anything else. If Ulqui wanted to stop him, he wasn't going anywhere.

"I don't think so." The fucker said with a smirk before he attacked. Grimmjow gasped, managing not to cry out as his arm was twisted behind him, a quick blow to his legs forcing him to his knees. It was the arm that had been broken and Grimmjow hissed softly as he felt the bone straining. If Ulquiorra wasn't careful he'd rebreak it.

Then a foot slammed into his ankle and Grimmjow wasn't sure if he was going to faint or puke. He felt the tender, barely mended bones break again and when Ulquiorra ground his heel into the fracture, he jerked in agony. He just barely managed to pull forward enough to avoid throwing up all over himself.

"You trying to cripple me?" He gasped out, mind hazed with anguish. Ulquiorra's laugh was cold and full of a vicious malice.

"As if it matters." Then his arm broke with a wet snap. Grimmjow felt himself sag, not quite fainting as his vision went a strange shade of yellow, pulsing around the edges. "Now, be silent." Grimmjow felt himself lifted up and bit his lip until it bled to stop a pained sound from escaping. He would not let Ulquiorra know how much it hurt. "I probably shouldn't have done your ankle. It will delay your execution considerably."

"F-Fuck you." He gasped out, then puked on Ulquiorra's back. It wasn't much, just some bile, but it made him feel a bit better. That feeling vanished as the pale bastard shoved him roughly through the window to his room, catching his broken arm on the window sill. Again, he didn't quite faint, although he desperately wanted to. "Bastard!" He choked out when his head stopped spinning. Ulquiorra just grabbed his collar and dragged him onto the bed, ignoring the stifled sounds of pain. Then he just stood there, waiting and watching as Grimmjow managed to get a grip on himself.

"Why?" Grimmjow whispered, meeting those green eyes. "Why do you hate me so much?" He just couldn't understand it. Ulquiorra looked at him, expression completely blank. The hate was only in his eyes.

"Because you're worthless." That calm, monotone declaration made his breath freeze in his throat. Grimmjow grunted, feeling like he'd been punched in the stomach as Ulquiorra turned and left the room. Long after the Quatro was gone, Grimmjow stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the pain of his body.

Because you're worthless.

The words hurt because he knew, deep inside, that they were the truth.

Ulquiorra left the medical division to go give Aizen a report on Grimmjow's progress.

Aizen would not be happy with him. He shouldn't have broken that idiot's arm again, or his ankle. But the truth was, Grimmjow infuriated him. He despised the sexta on so many levels.

The first thing he loathed about Grimmjow was his personality. He was exactly the kind of person who grated on Ulquiorra's nerves, loud and brash and confident. Yet that confidence, for someone who knew him well – or at least, studied him – was clearly a façade. Grimmjow thought of himself as merely a sexta, and barely capable of that.

And that was the second thing he hated about the sexta. He was an expert at sensing and judging power flows, unlike Grimmjow. So he knew that the sexta had always had more raw power than he did. He had more raw power even than Starrk. Perhaps, his power could equal Aizen's, with enough time and careful training.

Grimmjow was entirely ignorant of that fact. It infuriated Ulquiorra, to see all that potential power wasted on a fool who couldn't honestly look at himself and see what was there. If he'd had that sort of power, Aizen would have needed to watch his back. But instead, it was given to the sexta, who only wanted to please his taichou and lost a bit more of his self-worth every time he failed in that hopeless task.

Grimmjow pretended he didn't care, but Ulquiorra knew better. The sexta thought he was tough and self-reliant, but some part of him still craved approval, needed it desperately. And Aizen was his taichou, the man who ultimately owned his fate, so Grimmjow couldn't help but look there. He would never get what he was looking for, and in truth, Ulquiorra didn't know why. If he'd been in Aizen's position, he'd have nurtured the sexta. Not for Grimmjow's benefit, but to use him, to fix that craving for approval on himself. Aizen could have had a deeply loyal subordinate. Instead, he had a wreck.

But Ulquiorra was not the taichou, and the truth was that he simply hated Grimmjow. He loathed the man with every fibre of his being, so instead of giving him the truth, he'd given the sexta a lie he knew he would believe. A tiny, cold smile flicked across his lips as he thought about it. He studied everyone around him, and Grimmjow had been easy to figure out.

He knew exactly where to plant the knife.