((Warning for Erich having a pretty visceral panic attack in this one.))

“Sir, I’d like to formally register my complaint about this course of action,” Degurechaff grumbles as she steps into the tent carrying a fourth chair. She sets it down to the right of his chair and then stands behind it, her hands planted on her hips and her gaze flat as she stares up at him. “Everything you’ve told me about his people makes me think he’s bad news and this is just going turn into more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Noted, Colonel,” Erich agrees absently, hand already wrapped around his right wrist as he assesses his soulmate’s emotions. Loyalty still echoes through their connection, deep and abiding and almost desperate, so powerful is the feeling; it makes his stomach twist and his mouth go dry because no one should feel like that about him.

(He has no problem with loyalty, but this… this is the sort of loyalty that makes men blind.)

(This is the sort of loyalty that a man adrift and clinging to hope feels.)

(How did he miss that edge of desperation for so long…?)

Worse, the tenor of the rest of his emotions has changed as well; the man is no longer reassurance-trust-loyalty but instead resignation-acceptance-loyalty and the change is a sour reminder of everything that’s gone wrong between them.

(He never wanted this…)

(Soulmates are supposed to be everything right with the world, not… not this…)

Alexis’ hand settles on his shoulder, love-confidence-trust draping across his mind like a blanket, and he nods his thanks.

(Now is not the time to dwell.)

Erich rolls his shoulders and focuses on his breathing for a moment, letting his mind relax into a near-meditative state before he focuses on need-want-come here and lets the emotions build, lets himself focus on his second soulmate and press those emotions into their connection.

Shock-surprise-tentative hope spikes through their connection, making him exchange concerned looks with Alexis; they had been harsh but… had they truly made the man feel like they’d never ask him to return?

(Had they truly made him feel like they were rejecting him out of hand?)

This time, the man appears at the entrance of the tent instead of in the middle, shoulders hunched and rounded like he expects to be immediately attacked and—

Erich breathes a sigh and tugs at the cuffs of his shirt, meeting and holding the man’s gaze as he lets his emotions settle back into a baseline.

(What color even are his soulmate’s eyes…?)

(They’re so pale!)

“Well this is certainly an interesting welcome!” the man says with a level of forced cheer that Erich can feel grating across his senses like nails on a chalkboard. “Good evening, everyone!”

Degurechaff huffs and mutters something uncomplimentary under her breath that Erich pretends to miss, then gestures towards the seat in front of Erich’s desk and says, “Please, sit. General Rerugen and his wife have invited you here to speak on your connection and how the three of you will move forward from here.”

The Reaper slowly crosses the tent, his gaze moving between Erich and Alexis, clearly drinking in the sight of them. “Maa, I thought you had already decided…?”

“We haven’t,” Erich says carefully, his pronunciation better after a few hours of practice with Degurechaff but by no means perfect. At least he isn’t making either of the native speakers wince now, which is progress. “We would… like to have some answers, first. And… a name. None of us have been introduced to the other yet.”

The Reaper freezes, shock-hope-wonder unfurling through their connection before it’s just as quickly bottled away and the man flashes a cheerful smile at them. “Urahara Kisuke at your service!” he announces as he comes to stand behind the chair Degurechaff gestured him towards. “And you two beautiful people would be…?”

Erich resists the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose, exasperated by the terrible flirting. “He’s trying to flirt,” he says out loud when Alexis makes a questioning noise.

“Poorly,” Degurchaff adds in annoyance, then tilts her head to look up at him and says, “Remember, sir, family name first, then personal. And leave out the von. It… doesn’t translate very well.”

“Thank you, Colonel.” He remembers the conventions well enough, but a reminder is certainly not amiss given how long it’s been for him. “I am Rerugen Erich and this is my wife and our other soulmate, Rerugen Alexis,” he informs Urahara, deciding to not address the attempt at flirting.

(If he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t encourage the man, it will stop, right?)

(…right…?)

“A pleasure to meet you properly, Rerugen-san,” Urahara says as he leans over the back of the camp chair, a sly little smirk on his face and his eyes gleaming bright and—

It’s real, but it’s also a mask, a performance meant to do something that Erich can’t quite grasp; entice, maybe, or perhaps distract him from the uncertainty underlying everything Urahara does.

(And if that doesn’t support the idea of ‘on his own for the first time in his life’ he isn’t sure what would.)

Degurechaff makes a rude noise. “Sit down so we can talk like civilized people,” she orders, then grimaces and adds, “And stop trying to flirt with my commander, I’ve heard smoother lines out of my men when they were drunk.”

Erich swallows his laughter and tries to give Degurechaff the stern look her comment deserves; she’s technically being rude to the soulmate of her superior officer, but… he really can’t find it in him to care. After all the stress Urahara has put him through, the man can deal with Degurechaff’s sharp tongue for a while.

“It’s true, sir,” she says dryly. “My condolences on your luck, it seems your second soulmate has no taste in clothing or in pickup lines.”

Alexis covers her mouth with a hand, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter that only becomes stronger when Erich shoots her an exasperated look.

(Of course she would get along with Degurechaff.)

(He’s almost terrified to see what the two will accomplish together.)

Urahara huffs at their laughter and drops to sit in the chair, slouching forward enough that his robe-like top slips open, exposing more of his chest that Erich expected to see. His hands clasp together and settle over a knee, his smile flashing wicked-teasing-gleeful as he catches the direction of Erich’s stare, but there’s something… wrong. Something on the edge of Erich’s memory that he just can’t quite place…

He frowns at Urahara and pulls his gaze away from the man’s chest. Sweeps it slowly over the man as a whole, cataloging, analyzing, understanding—

It hits him like lightning.

He’s seen men like this before.

Scruffy. Unkempt. Limp hair and clothing loose, a bright smile that says don’t look-don’t notice-I’m fine-I’m fine-I’m fine…

(Well, why had he expected any different?)

“Erich?” Alexis asks, leaning into his side and slotting their fingers together to press their soulmarks closer together. Understanding-sadness-determination, she sends, having already pieced together the same clues as him.

He squeezes her hand in reassurance and takes his seat, pulling her down into the chair next to him. There’s nothing either of them can do for Urahara, no magic solution that will just fix things, but they can at least listen and try to think instead of react.

With that in mind, Erich fixes his attention on Urahara and says, “You have said that you’re no longer a Shinigami. Explain.”

“Ahahahaha, well, I was framed? And then exiled. And now I’m here!”

He sighs — why did he ever expect this to be easy? — and listens with half an ear as Degurechaff translates their words for Alexis. “Details, please,” he tells Urahara dryly. “You know my reservations about your people already. If your situation is going to bring danger to my family and those I’ve sworn to protect—”

“No, no, it shouldn’t! Or… well… I don’t think so?” Urahara frowns, gaze drifting aside. “It shouldn’t,” he repeats in a thoughtful murmur. “I’m discredited and out of his way and no one will listen to my words, not after what he framed me for… and if they didn’t come after me already I… doubt anything will happen in the future…”

Degurechaff makes a soft noise of annoyance and leans forward, her voice coldly professional as she asks, “What were you framed for?”

Urahara startles at her words. Stares at her. Darts his gaze to Erich almost pleadingly and… swallows when Erich just nods.

(He has to know.)

(He wishes they could go easier on Urahara, but…)

(They need to understand.)

“For illegal experimentation on Shinigami Captains and Lieutenants and causing the Hollowfication of said officers,” Urahara recites, expression blank and voice flat.

Alexis’ fingers tighten around his hand, dragging him from his thoughts with sharp jabs of impatience-annoyance-waiting. He gives her a sheepish smile and quickly catches her up, stumbling over the unfamiliar word that he doesn’t quite understand how to translate. Hollowfication is nothing he’s ever come across before, but it sounds… ominous.

He sends Degurechaff a questioning glance, wondering if she’d heard it before, and she shakes her head, her lips a thin line and her spine rigid.

(She might not have heard the word before, but everything about her posture tells Erich she has a suspicion.)

(And that her suspicion is nothing good.)

“Hollowfication, explain this word,” Degurechaff says as Erich settles back, letting her take the lead on questioning Urahara.

It gives him a chance to focus better, a chance to read the man in front of them without interruptions…

(A chance to do exactly what he teased Alexis about before.)

Threads of power slip beyond his skin and then twist back and in, weaving deep-deep-deep into his soulmark and reaching out, reaching through until Urahara’s emotions settle across Erich’s senses like a weight, bright-burning-consuming despite — because of? — the way they’ve been suppressed.

(A constellation — a galaxy — with no anchor and no direction, twisting-tangling-mutating without end but always-always-always returning to despair-hope-loyalty-nerves-guilt.)

(He drowns.)

(He burns.)

(He accepts-parses-learns until he knows, until he can sort himself from Urahara and finally breathe—)

“My fool of a husband,” Alexis whispers in his ear as she presses a kiss to his cheek. “Some risks are not worth the taking, love…”

“Ah… uhm…” Urahara’s fingers twitch once before stilling, his knuckles bleaching white as he darts a wary glance at Erich. There’s something like curiosity in the man’s gaze, his interest spiking as he senses something of what Erich’s done. “It’s… the removal of the boundary between Shinigami and Hollow, for purposes of strengthening the soul beyond previous limits.”

The breath catches in Erich’s throat, Urahara’s guilt-failure-fury beating like bird-wings against his mind, and he tries to think, tries to process, but he feels numb, feels lost at the idea of Reapers capable of forcing someone to become a Hollow—

(To become unmade…!)

Degurechaff translates Urahara’s words, and Alexis’ grip tightens on his hand but—

There’s a buzzing in his ears and his mouth tastes like cotton. His back aches with remembered agony, three lines of fire down his back, claw-marks from a Hollow that he’ll never forget, never escape—

(Acid in his veins, eating-eating-eating at his very Self—)

Concern lances through his mind. Jars him abruptly from the sense-memory. Leaves him cold-disoriented-uneasy as he struggles to understand, struggles to clear the jagged edges from his mind, struggles to settle back into his whole-unbroken-uninjured skin.

He straightens. Stares across his desk at Urahara. Fumbles for something, anything to say and… can’t.

Alexis’ grip is almost bruising as she lifts his hand and presses it to her chest, her own concern-strength-calm a balm to the scattered fragments of his control. She takes a breath, deep and steady, and he swallows. Forces himself to match her. Tries to pull her steadiness into himself.

(Gods, he’s a mess.)

(Between the Hollows and the War and now this…)

(He just… wants to go home!)

“I didn’t do it,” Urahara says carefully, insistently, leaning forward with his hands clasped tight. “My own Lieutenant was there. I… I couldn’t convince anyone—I had a bad feeling. Something was wrong and no one would listen to my words… so I went with one of my close friends.” He swallows and looks down, shoulders hunching in as his hair falls across his face. “We found them already in the process of Hollowfication, losing their minds from the change, and… we found him there as well.

“We tried to stop him and his minions, but they escaped,” Urahara continues, rage-hate-guilt simmering through their connection. “Which… left us with either trying to save the others or trying to catch Aizen. I… I thought I’d have more time. Thought I’d be able to get people to believe my word, so… so my friend put the others into stasis and transported us back to the Twelfth Division, where I had my equipment. It… it was a chance with poor odds, but I could potentially fix it but… but I couldn’t. I couldn’t. All I did was stabilize their hybrid state and it took everything I had to do that, and then…”

“Then you got caught,” Erich finishes for him as Degurechaff translates his words for Alexis. He’s… not entirely certain he believes Urahara, not yet, not fully, but… everything he senses from the man leads him to believe that it might be true.

(If that’s the case… no wonder the man is so desperate.)

(And all that guilt… does Urahara believe it’s all his fault, or is it the guilt of a liar…)

(He can’t tell.)

“Then we got caught,” Urahara agrees with a grimace, reaching up to brush his hair back in order. “I don’t… know how much detail you know about Shinigami, but our blades are unique, giving each of us a different set of abilities. His power…” he hesitates, clenches his jaw, breathes out. “His power, I later learned, is unbreakable illusions.”

Degurechaff snorts. “Of course it is,” she growls, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “Sir, it’s highly likely that this is just a sob story to win you over. We can’t verify any of this even if we wanted to, and if he’s right about it, we’re not going to get a straight answer from anyone.”

Erich rubs his right wrist against his thigh, trying to ignore the way his fingers are still trembling in reaction. Everything he senses from Urahara makes him want to believe the man, but… Degurechaff is right. Everything he can sense can also be attributed to other things; guilt from lying, rage and hate at this ‘Aizen’ for exposing him, failure from screwing up his plans…

“I know,” he tells her absently. Clenches his right hand into a fist. Weighs hope against fear against betrayal and… “But where do we draw the line? If we refuse to even listen, refuse to give him a chance, are we protecting ourselves or are we turning our backs on an innocent man?” He wants to believe Urahara, wants to trust him despite everything that’s happened.

(His instincts tell him Urahara is being truthful.)

(Tell him that he should trust—)

(Can’t trust himself because the only other time his objectivity failed was with Degurechaff and…)

(He trusts her now, doesn’t he?)

“We said we’d give him a chance,” Alexis says thoughtfully, her thumb running back and forth across his hand. “Nothing he’s told us changes anything, I don’t think. Not for me at least. We’ll need to keep an eye out, but we needed to do that anyway.”

Degurechaff gives both of them a flat, exasperated look, then sighs and shakes her head. “Fine. I can see you’ve made up your minds.”

“We have,” Alexis agrees after a brief glance at Erich. “Please inform him that we will talk more in the morning to work out an agreement between us, but that I think we all need some time to gather ourselves.”

Degurechaff’s eye twitches a bit, but she inclines her head and dutifully translates Alexis’ words.

Urahara sags a bit but… Erich can still sense hope-wonder-loyalty from the man so… he certainly isn’t taking the dismissal as hard as he could. In fact, the look he sends Erich is almost pure concern, mixed with a touch of understanding.

(Urahara might not understand why, but he seems to understand the what at least.)

(That’s… something.)

“Should I wait for your call?” Urahara asks flippantly as he rises from his seat, hands carefully tucked behind his back.

Erich hesitates, then carefully reaches down and frees his pocket watch to toss at the man. “At eight in the morning. And don’t lose that.”

Degurechaff huffs a sigh and rises to her feet, moving to stand next to Urahara. “I’ll escort you out,” she says gravely, gaze almost daring the man to disappear like before.

“Ahahaha… that’s not necessary!” Urahara says as he almost reverently tucks Erich’s watch away, eyes gleaming with something that Erich can’t quite parse. “I know my way out—”

“Please, I insist,” Degurechaff repeats with cold formality, and it’s enough to get the man moving. They walk out of the tent together, Urahara sending him one last, lingering glance and—

Erich slumps again Alexis’ side as soon as the tent flap closes behind him. His body is trembling.

(He’s so tired…)

“Come to bed, my love,” Alexis murmurs as she coaxes him up, supporting him as his legs nearly give out. They cross the handful of steps to his cot and she lowers him down, kneels to unlace his boots…

He stares down at her, mind blank and body trembling now that he doesn’t have to pretend, doesn’t have to hold himself together, doesn’t have to think or decide or process anything except this simple, quiet moment. Her hands are gentle as she pulls his boots and socks from his feet. Gentle as she reaches up to unbutton his shirt. Gentle as she slips it off and takes his glasses and tugs his undershirt over his head—

(This is… he doesn’t usually… undress this much at camp but…)

Alexis nudges him down, lays him out so he’s resting on his stomach and runs warm-calloused-careful hands down his back and over his scars, spiritual power slipping into his body and—

The lingering memory of agony dims under her strength. Fades, quenched by the cool water-smooth stone-soft moss sensation of her power beneath his skin.

He breathes out.

Relaxes.

Sleeps.