L had a headache, and he only expected this to get worse as the meeting progressed. It had been aggravating in the extreme to find that his injuries were affecting his ability to think. He slept more, got headaches while he was reading, could only type with one hand, even sitting on a chair the way he usually did made things worse. He couldn't hold his balance as effectively, had to keep one arm up in a sling, and he ached, even now, all over.
He'd deserved every hit. He knew that. He'd deserved it long ago, and no one had the right to issue it more than Ulquiorra. It was the failure that had plagued him, and usually he moved on so easily to do things another way, but with that one, he couldn't.
He'd never ever meant Ulquiorra to know the pain he had.
His time since that altercation had been spent doing what little work he could manage while he could, and then wondering what reasons Gin had for setting things up like that. Gin did not do idle conversation, regardless of what he claimed; he'd gone to L for a purpose that day, and had directed the conversation towards Midgar, and with it Gongaga, for a purpose that day, and it was no coincidence that Ulquiorra had overheard. L knew coincidences happened, but coincidences like that didn't happen around people like Gin.
Was it to drive a wedge between the two of them? There hadn't been a close bond, but there had been a bond, and Ulquiorra was the only person still alive who knew L's real name, so was it to split that, to separate Ulquiorra from influences outside of those of Aizen, or was it to stop L from learning too much about Aizen's activities because while Ulquiorra would never deliberately divulge them, L knew Ulquiorra better than Aizen did.
Or had, once.
Thinking about all of that only made L's headaches worse, and Szayel's scolding and complaining about L ignoring his medical advice didn't help.
L had to attend the meeting. Gin would be there, but L hadn't told anyone about Gin's instrumental part in causing the altercation, and L, in any case, only remembered bits and pieces of their conversation anyway.
He walked into the room slowly, barefoot and still bruised, and looked immediately over at Ulquiorra. He was standing, near a wall, out of the way, as if to separate himself from everyone else in the room.
L had the grace to look away before he picked an empty chair near the door and perched on it, having to lean against the back of it to hold his balance.
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Date: 2013-04-25 04:43 pm (UTC)He'd deserved every hit. He knew that. He'd deserved it long ago, and no one had the right to issue it more than Ulquiorra. It was the failure that had plagued him, and usually he moved on so easily to do things another way, but with that one, he couldn't.
He'd never ever meant Ulquiorra to know the pain he had.
His time since that altercation had been spent doing what little work he could manage while he could, and then wondering what reasons Gin had for setting things up like that. Gin did not do idle conversation, regardless of what he claimed; he'd gone to L for a purpose that day, and had directed the conversation towards Midgar, and with it Gongaga, for a purpose that day, and it was no coincidence that Ulquiorra had overheard. L knew coincidences happened, but coincidences like that didn't happen around people like Gin.
Was it to drive a wedge between the two of them? There hadn't been a close bond, but there had been a bond, and Ulquiorra was the only person still alive who knew L's real name, so was it to split that, to separate Ulquiorra from influences outside of those of Aizen, or was it to stop L from learning too much about Aizen's activities because while Ulquiorra would never deliberately divulge them, L knew Ulquiorra better than Aizen did.
Or had, once.
Thinking about all of that only made L's headaches worse, and Szayel's scolding and complaining about L ignoring his medical advice didn't help.
L had to attend the meeting. Gin would be there, but L hadn't told anyone about Gin's instrumental part in causing the altercation, and L, in any case, only remembered bits and pieces of their conversation anyway.
He walked into the room slowly, barefoot and still bruised, and looked immediately over at Ulquiorra. He was standing, near a wall, out of the way, as if to separate himself from everyone else in the room.
L had the grace to look away before he picked an empty chair near the door and perched on it, having to lean against the back of it to hold his balance.