I decided to make a sequel. I re-read this story and I don't know why I jumped out of this AU 'verse so fast. I really like it, and I want to work on something dark without having to create a whole new 'verse.
So it'll be up soon, I promise. Here's an excerpt from the nearly finished first chapter.
DDTS: Cat In The Cradle
Ichigo sat silent as a stone as the man continued to shave his face, unable to move due to the arm, leg, and ankle restraints. The only real power he had at the moment was the ability to move his head. He'd always preferred a clean-shaven appearance, but it wasn't nearly as fun when someone else had to do it for him.
The big man's hands weren't shaking nearly as much now as when they had started.
He tended to forget how scared people were of him, of his name alone. Besides, physically, he looked worlds' different from his one year sentence six and a half years ago. Very few had gotten the look in their eyes, the sense that they were experiencing déjà vu.
Oh yes. The warden had left him to rot in high-security solitary confinement for four months before allowing him to roam free in the Disturbed Ward for an hour a day. He played nice. He had run into Shirosaki in the first week and the albino had to be sedated due to his uncontrollable bursts of hyper laughter. He was put in solitary. Ichigo didn't like that.
Because Shirosaki had a big mouth. Because Shirosaki was supposed to be his little carrier pigeon.
Because Ichigo was shaking, shaking, at the thought of seeing Grimmjow again.
It would be different. It would be perfect.
The dreams, the nightmares…they would all stop soon, soon as he was close to Grimmjow again.
So today's shave was a bit of a pre-celebration: the warden had finally signed him off to be moved to general population. His shackles would stay in effect for probably another month, but Ichigo didn't much mind. He actually preferred it. It would keep him from…well, he hadn't exactly been a saint over the past six years.
After his shave, he would be escorted to the showers and given his new white uniform, the uniform that marked him as the most dangerous. He had been offered the opportunity for a haircut, but he didn't want one. He'd let it grow for so long, and it was his new identity, his new sense of self. He was not Tensa without it.
The man shaving him tensed again, cutting into the flesh right below his chin.
Ichigo forgot people got nervous when he smiled.
He'd paid for his canines to be surgically altered, so he wasn't too upset that the man had cut him in a moment of panic.
The pain was a dull throb anyway. He barely ever felt anything anymore.
"S-sorry," the man warbled, dabbing at the small cut with a piece of paper towel, "I'm really sorry."
Ichigo smirked with his mouth closed.
"Hurry up," he said, his fingers tingling, the heavy metal around his wrists almost comforting, "Hurry, it's almost time."
Don't Drop The Soap: Cat In The Cradle, coming to an imaginary yaoi prison near you ;)