Ulquiorra stood, holding the door open in one hand, his eyes wide. L turned to look at him. “Ulquiorra,” he said his voice trailing off as his throat went dry and his heart thumped in his chest.
Ulquiorra stared at him for a long moment, heart pounding in his ears, and then turned, letting go of the door to allow it to swing shut. Lawliet had known all along; it was too much to process right now.
L hesitated at Ulquiorra's reaction, and then slipped off his perch on the chair and crossed the short distance to the door, catching it, and catching Ulquiorra's shoulder as his nephew moved to leave. “Quiorra-chan,” he began.
Ulquiorra's answer came in a ringing crack, pain blossoming across L's jaw and sending him off balance. “Don't call me that,” Ulquiorra said, in fluent Rozarrian, his gaze fixed on L from the corner of his eyes. His lips were thin and pressed tightly together, and his hand balled into a fist.
L sat himself up on the floor, wincing faintly as he pressed the back of one hand to his face. He could taste blood, and he wasn't sure if this was Ulquiorra's own strength, or if there was a Hollow involved in it somewhere. “You hit harder than I remember,” he said, quietly.
“You knew,” Ulquiorra said, his tone leaden, and reiatsu wavering, restrained but with difficulty.
L looked up at his nephew for a moment before he frowned, nodding his head just the once. “I knew,” he confirmed. He was resigned to having this conversation, after all this time trying to ensure it never came up.
“You did nothing,” Ulquiorra continued. His parents, his family, had gone to Gongaga, had died in Gongaga, and Lawliet had known all along what was going to happen there.
“There was nothing I could do,” L replied, quietly.
Ulquiorra was faster than he remembered, too, he realised, and stronger, as L found himself dragged to his feet by the front of his shirt, held in a grip that was unbreakable, at Ulquiorra's eye level. He struggled to get back onto his feet, but was being held too low to be comfortable once he had.
“You of all people could have done something,” Ulquiorra replied. Aniki, a genius by his own claim, should have been able to do something. He knew; he could, should, have warned them.
“I couldn't have stopped it,” L told him, one hand gripping Ulquiorra's wrist but not bothering to try and pry his grip away. Ulquiorra was so much stronger than L had ever known, stronger than he'd ever realised, even with the Arrancar procedure factored into the equation.
“You could have stopped them going.”
L hesitated. How to explain what he'd thought at the time to Ulquiorra, whose reiatsu betrayed what his level tone tried to hide. “You have to understand, Quiorra-chan, I was in a difficult position.” He didn't get any further, barely registering the movement, but he felt the force to his chest, the ground slipping out from under him. He hit the wall behind him with a crack that ripped through his shoulder, before crumpling to the floor again. There was a sharp pain in his chest when he took a breath, and he knew Ulquiorra had probably fractured a rib or two, as well as his collarbone. L winced, wrapping the arm that it didn't hurt to move over his chest and pushing himself to his feet again. “If I warned them,” he continued, “then what would your mother have done? I couldn't expect them to keep the information to themselves. They were her family.”
Ulquiorra approached, smacking L with the back of a fist that felt more like a brick, making L see stars for a moment as he picked him up and slammed him back against the wall, causing L to give a small cry as a shock of pain tore through his chest again, hand at his throat. “And they were yours,” Ulquiorra replied.
L struggled against the pain that was shooting through his head and his chest, his next words becoming strangled. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice breaking. Ulquiorra was strangling him slowly, but not enough to actually send him unconscious. “They were, as are you, and I did what I thought was the best for you all.”
Ulquiorra's eyes widened again for a moment which seemed to drag on in stunned silence, and then he punched L, so that L felt his nose break, and his teeth loosen, and then dragged him away from the wall again and kicked him, reiatsu flared to its peak for a second as L flew backwards with the kick, landing in a heap on the floor, and struggling to sit up again. He could taste blood and his head and jaw pounded.
“I was supposed to be there. You thought I had been.” Ulquiorra's eyes were still wide with the shock and realisation, that L had admitted as much landed like a rock in his gut, and in his head he could hear the sibilant laughter of something that was enjoying this moment far more than it should.
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Ulquiorra stood, holding the door open in one hand, his eyes wide. L turned to look at him. “Ulquiorra,” he said his voice trailing off as his throat went dry and his heart thumped in his chest.
Ulquiorra stared at him for a long moment, heart pounding in his ears, and then turned, letting go of the door to allow it to swing shut. Lawliet had known all along; it was too much to process right now.
L hesitated at Ulquiorra's reaction, and then slipped off his perch on the chair and crossed the short distance to the door, catching it, and catching Ulquiorra's shoulder as his nephew moved to leave. “Quiorra-chan,” he began.
Ulquiorra's answer came in a ringing crack, pain blossoming across L's jaw and sending him off balance. “Don't call me that,” Ulquiorra said, in fluent Rozarrian, his gaze fixed on L from the corner of his eyes. His lips were thin and pressed tightly together, and his hand balled into a fist.
L sat himself up on the floor, wincing faintly as he pressed the back of one hand to his face. He could taste blood, and he wasn't sure if this was Ulquiorra's own strength, or if there was a Hollow involved in it somewhere. “You hit harder than I remember,” he said, quietly.
“You knew,” Ulquiorra said, his tone leaden, and reiatsu wavering, restrained but with difficulty.
L looked up at his nephew for a moment before he frowned, nodding his head just the once. “I knew,” he confirmed. He was resigned to having this conversation, after all this time trying to ensure it never came up.
“You did nothing,” Ulquiorra continued. His parents, his family, had gone to Gongaga, had died in Gongaga, and Lawliet had known all along what was going to happen there.
“There was nothing I could do,” L replied, quietly.
Ulquiorra was faster than he remembered, too, he realised, and stronger, as L found himself dragged to his feet by the front of his shirt, held in a grip that was unbreakable, at Ulquiorra's eye level. He struggled to get back onto his feet, but was being held too low to be comfortable once he had.
“You of all people could have done something,” Ulquiorra replied. Aniki, a genius by his own claim, should have been able to do something. He knew; he could, should, have warned them.
“I couldn't have stopped it,” L told him, one hand gripping Ulquiorra's wrist but not bothering to try and pry his grip away. Ulquiorra was so much stronger than L had ever known, stronger than he'd ever realised, even with the Arrancar procedure factored into the equation.
“You could have stopped them going.”
L hesitated. How to explain what he'd thought at the time to Ulquiorra, whose reiatsu betrayed what his level tone tried to hide. “You have to understand, Quiorra-chan, I was in a difficult position.” He didn't get any further, barely registering the movement, but he felt the force to his chest, the ground slipping out from under him. He hit the wall behind him with a crack that ripped through his shoulder, before crumpling to the floor again. There was a sharp pain in his chest when he took a breath, and he knew Ulquiorra had probably fractured a rib or two, as well as his collarbone. L winced, wrapping the arm that it didn't hurt to move over his chest and pushing himself to his feet again. “If I warned them,” he continued, “then what would your mother have done? I couldn't expect them to keep the information to themselves. They were her family.”
Ulquiorra approached, smacking L with the back of a fist that felt more like a brick, making L see stars for a moment as he picked him up and slammed him back against the wall, causing L to give a small cry as a shock of pain tore through his chest again, hand at his throat. “And they were yours,” Ulquiorra replied.
L struggled against the pain that was shooting through his head and his chest, his next words becoming strangled. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice breaking. Ulquiorra was strangling him slowly, but not enough to actually send him unconscious. “They were, as are you, and I did what I thought was the best for you all.”
Ulquiorra's eyes widened again for a moment which seemed to drag on in stunned silence, and then he punched L, so that L felt his nose break, and his teeth loosen, and then dragged him away from the wall again and kicked him, reiatsu flared to its peak for a second as L flew backwards with the kick, landing in a heap on the floor, and struggling to sit up again. He could taste blood and his head and jaw pounded.
“I was supposed to be there. You thought I had been.” Ulquiorra's eyes were still wide with the shock and realisation, that L had admitted as much landed like a rock in his gut, and in his head he could hear the sibilant laughter of something that was enjoying this moment far more than it should.