rlm@0: Afterwards
rlm@0: Immo
rlm@0: immo@hamena.org
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: Author's comments: Okay, I know the title sucks ass. Don't blame me.
rlm@0: It was either that, or
rlm@0: 'Josie and the Pussycats' cuz that was the cd I've been listening to
rlm@0: repetitively. Buy the cd
rlm@0: everybody! Oh, by the way, I love Eliza Dushku. She's the girl that
rlm@0: plays Faith in Buffy the
rlm@0: Vampire Slayer, Missy in Bring It On!, Annabel in Soul Survivors,
rlm@0: Danielle (Dan the Man) in
rlm@0: The New Guy (Watch it for the bathing suit scene!) and a whole list
rlm@0: that I won't bother, cuz
rlm@0: I'm too busy worshipping her. :P Its late. Um, its a Noir fic with
rlm@0: femslashy/yuri/shoujo-ai/
rlm@0: girl-girl love/angsty thing. Cool. I think girlgirl love is cute. So
rlm@0: shut up.
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: COMMENTS, COMPLIMENTS, REVIEWS, COMPLAINTS, FLAMES (please, no?),
rlm@0: ARE WELCOME (cept for the
rlm@0: flames). Please. I'm doing an analysis on Oedipus. Leave my psycotic
rlm@0: psychoticness alone (but
rlm@0: all C&Cs and Rs are welcome!) and read the fic.
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: ~-~-~
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: It might've been better if I had died that night. I don't know, but
rlm@0: sometimes I think
rlm@0: it would've been so much better if Mireille had killed me as soon as
rlm@0: I approached her. Then
rlm@0: she wouldn't be going through this.
rlm@0: "I don't regret a thing." Mireille and that beautiful smile.
rlm@0: What a lie that was. When she thought I was asleep, she would cry,
rlm@0: and I would just
rlm@0: lay there and listen to her, because there was nothing I could do.
rlm@0: There was nothing I
rlm@0: wouldn't do for her, but really, there was nothing I could do.
rlm@0: It was stupid of both of us to think that love would conquer all.
rlm@0: Shallow breaths and
rlm@0: passion-filled nights don't erase the blood on our hands. Especially
rlm@0: not mine. I haven't even
rlm@0: made penance for my crimes against her.
rlm@0: She would never admit to regret, not my Mireille. She was strong,
rlm@0: and I was so proud
rlm@0: of her, so drawn to her and her curious ways. Sometimes, I feel like
rlm@0: I have nothing inside me
rlm@0: and she would fill me with herself, her light, her face, her being.
rlm@0: Lately, I've been unresponsive, I've withdrawn into myself, and she
rlm@0: worries. I don't
rlm@0: want her to worry, but its so hard not to think about these things.
rlm@0: Does her family haunt her at night, screaming for revenge?
rlm@0: Why does she continue like this?
rlm@0: And I watch her, sometimes, when she's not looking and try to see
rlm@0: those ghosts that
rlm@0: surround her. I know she has one, or some, because I do too. How
rlm@0: does it feel to have a 
rlm@0: Chloe, eternally poking you with a dessert fork?
rlm@0: Just thinking about her sometimes, in an ethereal form, grinning
rlm@0: delightfully, makes
rlm@0: me smile too. But I dread it everytime I see the phantom glare at me
rlm@0: accusingly.
rlm@0: Love can't win all the time, just as hate can't win all the time
rlm@0: either. Altena, dear
rlm@0: mother, forgive me. For I have sinned.
rlm@0: Love can't erase the trainings of Noir. I was brought up, knowing
rlm@0: nothing else except
rlm@0: Noir. How could I abandon it?
rlm@0: Noir was two...
rlm@0: How could Mireille abandon her family?
rlm@0: The breeze was warm, a perfect summer day, sitting in an outdoor cafe.
rlm@0: Five to twelve. Would she be late?
rlm@0: When arms wrapped around me from behind in a tight hug, I knew that
rlm@0: was a stupid
rlm@0: question. Stupid, stupid. Of course she wouldn't be late.
rlm@0: "Good afternoon,"
rlm@0: It was amazing how, just the touch of her lips brushing against my
rlm@0: ear, the slight
rlm@0: growl in her voice, could set me on fire. She brandished a rose,
rlm@0: brushing it deftly across my
rlm@0: lips, and I found myself blushing when I saw an elderly couple
rlm@0: watching us in amusement.
rlm@0: "Mireille..." I leaned my head back, and she kissed me on the lips
rlm@0: tenderly, before
rlm@0: moving to her seat opposite me. How could anyone be so beautiful?
rlm@0: How could anyone be so damned beautiful, yet so dangerous? My eyes
rlm@0: trained on her
rlm@0: hands.
rlm@0: "Kirika, there's a show at the Paris Opera House." Two tickets
rlm@0: appeared in her hands.
rlm@0: "Lets go watch."
rlm@0: "What are we watching?"
rlm@0: Merielle shrugged, grinning. "Does it matter?"
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: And when we sat in those plush red seats, and I leaned back,
rlm@0: watching the opera, it
rlm@0: didn't really matter. The music, the whole of the opera, was
rlm@0: beautiful.
rlm@0: "Have you heard of Le Fantôme de l'opéra?" Her words whispered into
rlm@0: my ear. I 
rlm@0: shivered, as a hand brushed teasingly against my thigh.
rlm@0: "Phantom of the Opera? Isn't that a musical?" I responded in a
rlm@0: breathless tone,
rlm@0: Mireille's hair tickling my forehead, as the blonde nipped at the my
rlm@0: neck.
rlm@0: 'Mireille...'
rlm@0: "Mireille," I was ashamed of the lust that was so evident in my
rlm@0: voice. And even when
rlm@0: I tried to squirm away from her, I returned those kisses. "We're in
rlm@0: public..."
rlm@0: "In public, in private, in our own box number five." Mireille
rlm@0: chuckled when I let out
rlm@0: a loud gasp. "Only le fantôme de l'opéra will see us. Now... kiss me."
rlm@0: It didn't really matter which opera we were watching, because as the
rlm@0: orchestra played
rlm@0: on, I was just thankful it muffled the sounds we were making.
rlm@0: Mireille could be quite the 
rlm@0: risk-taker when she felt like it, and as I lay against her chest,
rlm@0: listening to her heart 
rlm@0: slowing back to normal pace, I wonder how much I've changed her.
rlm@0: We ran down the steps, past the other opera-goers, and giggled and
rlm@0: apologized when we
rlm@0: bumped into people, no amount of sour looks or complaints could kill
rlm@0: our mood. We were
rlm@0: together, alive, and well.
rlm@0: Wandering the streets, we kissed, chased each other, watched the
rlm@0: lamplights flicker
rlm@0: on and off for a while, then watched the dark waters below us, on a
rlm@0: bridge.
rlm@0: I had buried whatever normal life I had in those dark waters. Maybe
rlm@0: I should go and
rlm@0: buy myself a new sketchbook... but was that really necessary when I
rlm@0: know that simple drawings
rlm@0: on paper could not give me nearly as much life as Mireille did?
rlm@0: Strange how to people could meet under such strange circumstances,
rlm@0: yes, that was us.
rlm@0: Stranger still how one could love the murderer of your family, how
rlm@0: you could fall in love
rlm@0: with the person who said they would kill you.
rlm@0: Heh.
rlm@0: It was funny.
rlm@0: That feeling. That word. Love.
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: *-*-*
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: We had finally gotten past that last hurdle.
rlm@0: Didn't know it was so hard for both of us to just show that we cared
rlm@0: for each other.
rlm@0: We could take out a small army by ourselves, and still, those three
rlm@0: little words defeat us. I
rlm@0: don't know what we're so afraid of, but neither of us could utter
rlm@0: it, even a month after our
rlm@0: run-in with Soldats, when everything fell to a close at the Manor.
rlm@0: But was it really the end?
rlm@0: That haunted expression in Kirika's eyes... it was still there.
rlm@0: And Soldats still lurked around the corner. I could feel them. Smell
rlm@0: them, maybe. A
rlm@0: scent of old parchment, and fine red wine that intoxicated and made
rlm@0: me feel sluggish and
rlm@0: dangerously drunk.
rlm@0: "Mireille?"
rlm@0: I moved away from the window. I thought I had... no. It couldn't
rlm@0: have been. I thought
rlm@0: I had glimpsed the shine of the noonday sun off the cold steel of a
rlm@0: gun. But that wasn't
rlm@0: possible.
rlm@0: I kept telling myself that, again and again, over and over.
rlm@0: 'It wasn't possible, it wasn't possible, it wasn't possible, it's
rlm@0: very possible, you
rlm@0: two embarassed their whole organization, the two of you managed to
rlm@0: single-handedly cripple
rlm@0: Soldats and off some of their most important and powerful members,
rlm@0: you know the identity of
rlm@0: the roots of Soldats, old men who sat in seats of power...'
rlm@0: "Is something on your mind?"
rlm@0: Our eyes met, and I fought an internal struggle. Should I tell
rlm@0: Kirika about my
rlm@0: worries? Or should I keep it to myself, keep this paranoia buried
rlm@0: deep inside me and not
rlm@0: scratch at a wound that was still fresh and red. Irritable if you
rlm@0: touch it. Infections, and
rlm@0: pus caking around the edges of the cut.
rlm@0: "Nothing."
rlm@0: "Here," Kirika got up from her seat and walked behind me, hands
rlm@0: sliding across my
rlm@0: tense shoulders, thumbs and fingers caressed the bare flesh of my
rlm@0: back, slipping underneath
rlm@0: my shirt to run dry heat across the my back.
rlm@0: "Kirika," I couldn't help it, and arched my back, giving in to the
rlm@0: smaller girl's
rlm@0: ministrations.
rlm@0: "That feels nice..."
rlm@0: Lips trailed across the back of my neck.
rlm@0: "THAT, feels even nicer," I purred. Kirika's mouth turned up into a
rlm@0: small pink smile.
rlm@0: "That's exactly what I want to hear."
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: Later on in the early evening, I still had that feeling. We had
rlm@0: decided to eat at a
rlm@0: small diner we both loved, and it was easy to pick out the sore
rlm@0: thumb amongst the regular
rlm@0: patrons.
rlm@0: "That one." I was sure. So sure.
rlm@0: Kirika's eyes darted to the side, unnoticably, and she continued her
rlm@0: meal. "I see."
rlm@0: "That's why I've been acting all jumpy." pause. "Soldats."
rlm@0: Kirika's hand tightened around the fork, she placed the utensil
rlm@0: down, and reached for
rlm@0: the stem of her wineglass, almost downing all the contents in one
rlm@0: gulp.
rlm@0: "No." Her voice was harsh.
rlm@0: "I'm certain--"
rlm@0: "No." Kirika said a bit louder now. "No. No more. Its not, Mireille.
rlm@0: We leave them
rlm@0: alone, they leave us alone. Please."
rlm@0: I looked at the dark-eyed girl, saw a sort of anxiety in her.
rlm@0: "I want to believe, I want to, Mireille. That they've left us alone.
rlm@0: We have nothing
rlm@0: to do with them, they have nothing to do with us." Kirika reached
rlm@0: out to place her hand on
rlm@0: top of mine. "Please. I *need* to."
rlm@0: I could feel that rough spot on her finger, her trigger finger. Over
rlm@0: time, if one
rlm@0: pulls the trigger of a gun too much, one develops a callous on the
rlm@0: spot. Like if a person
rlm@0: writes too much. If one stops doing whatever it is that developed
rlm@0: the callous in the first
rlm@0: place, it will fade. But it takes some time.
rlm@0: So I closed myself off to the newness in the environment, and
rlm@0: ordered a strawberry
rlm@0: shortcake for myself, and Kirika ordered a chocolate cheesecake,
rlm@0: that she only managed to
rlm@0: finish half of.
rlm@0: "Lets go home."
rlm@0: The bill was paid, and we went back to our apartment. The man had
rlm@0: also paid his bill
rlm@0: and was following us. But both Kirika and I ignored it. Or at least,
rlm@0: I tried to. The
rlm@0: comforting weight of my handgun in my purse was... of little
rlm@0: comfort, as he followed us up
rlm@0: the steps to our apartment... and stopped one floor before ours. I
rlm@0: heard the jangle of his
rlm@0: keys as he let himself into his apartment.
rlm@0: I breathed out a sigh of relief. Overreating to the smallest thing,
rlm@0: that's probably
rlm@0: what Kirika was thinking right now as she unlocks the door to our
rlm@0: apartment.
rlm@0: The plant was outlined by the low-hanging moon, almost as if it
rlm@0: perched on the
rlm@0: windowsill. Kirika went to take a shower first, and I went and made
rlm@0: some tea, the ritual had
rlm@0: been set for us. I boiled the water and spooned tea leaves into the
rlm@0: teapot. Then, I went and
rlm@0: set the table for two. Usually, Kirika would be helping me... but
rlm@0: tonight there was tension.
rlm@0: I nursed my cup of tea, enjoying the herbal scent, when Kirika came
rlm@0: out of the bathroom.
rlm@0: Steam raced out between her legs, she was in her bathrobe, hair
rlm@0: hanging wet and loose, towel
rlm@0: draped over her arm.
rlm@0: "Your turn." Kirika sat on the bed, and used the towel to slowly,
rlm@0: meticulously, dry
rlm@0: her hair.
rlm@0: "The tea. It'll get cold."
rlm@0: And there was that glare, I had seen that same glare when I had gone
rlm@0: to 'rescue'
rlm@0: Kirika from the kind mother. That glare that recognized me, but
rlm@0: wished me a slow, painful,
rlm@0: torturous death.
rlm@0: "I'm sorry." She returned to normal, regret written clearly on her
rlm@0: face.
rlm@0: "No, its..." I was going to say it was my fault. But it wasn't. So
rlm@0: it would have been
rlm@0: a lie. It was awkward, just standing there, so I escaped to the
rlm@0: washroom, and hid underneath
rlm@0: the spray of the shower.
rlm@0: When I came back out, Kirika was already in bed, her cup of tea
rlm@0: finished. And my tea
rlm@0: was already cold, so I just went back into the bathroom, wiped off
rlm@0: the foggy mirror, and
rlm@0: blow-dried my hair.
rlm@0: Slipping under the covers, I turned so my back faced Kirika's.
rlm@0: 'So. This is a lover's quarrel.' Even though, outwardly I was
rlm@0: relaxed, everything was
rlm@0: a bundle of quivering nerves, and that delightful mixture of hurt
rlm@0: and fear pricked my brain.
rlm@0: A feather-light touch, and Kirika drew me into her arms, breath
rlm@0: ruffling my hair.
rlm@0: "I'm sorry."
rlm@0: "I'm not mad at you."
rlm@0: A soft chuckle that tickled my back.
rlm@0: "Yes you are."
rlm@0: Turning in Kirika's hold, our noses touching, breath smelling of
rlm@0: minty freshness from
rlm@0: the toothpaste, I smiled at her.
rlm@0: "No." Lips touched in a kiss. "I'm not."
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: *-*-*
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: Merielle woke up. It was a dreary day, one of those rainy days that
rlm@0: left everybody
rlm@0: restless. Kirika was one of those people. The sheets bunched up
rlm@0: around her legs, and the
rlm@0: blonde kicked them off irritably. 
rlm@0: "Kirika?" She called out, knowing full well that she wasn't going to
rlm@0: get a reply. The
rlm@0: girl had probably run down to one of her favorite breakfast places.
rlm@0: And sure enough, when
rlm@0: Mireille went to find her, she was sitting at their table, breakfast
rlm@0: already ordered.
rlm@0: "I ordered for two."
rlm@0: Mireille nodded, and thanked the waitress when she came back with
rlm@0: their breakfast and
rlm@0: the newspaper. Since they didn't accept contracts anymore and had
rlm@0: 'retired' from the assasin
rlm@0: business, Mireille had found the time to read the newspaper. Most of
rlm@0: the time, she scoured
rlm@0: the headlines, wondering, searching for something which never
rlm@0: appeared.
rlm@0: "Your omelette is getting cold."
rlm@0: Mirielle put down the paper.
rlm@0: "I was wondering..." Kirika started. Mireille paused, and the russet-
rlm@0: haired girl
rlm@0: continued. "I was wondering if, maybe, you think visiting Canada...
rlm@0: wouldn't it be nice? I
rlm@0: mean, there's the Niagara Falls. I heard there's always snow there,
rlm@0: so maybe catch some
rlm@0: skiing?"
rlm@0: Mireille nodded, putting fork and knife down. "A vacation?"
rlm@0: "Yes."
rlm@0: The blonde smiled, a sparkle of interest in her eyes. "You know not
rlm@0: all parts of
rlm@0: Canada have snow this time of year, right?"
rlm@0: Kirika blushed. "Of course. You're teasing me."
rlm@0: "I wouldn't dare!" Mireille laughed, and cut out a small corner of
rlm@0: her omelette. She
rlm@0: never used to eat breakfast.
rlm@0: "We'll have so much fun!" That child-like glee, that Mireille
rlm@0: mirrored. Both had been
rlm@0: deprived of most of their childhood, and now they relived it with
rlm@0: each other. Plans were laid
rlm@0: down, each detail was examined, equipment, money, everything was
rlm@0: accounted for on sheets of
rlm@0: napkin that the owner of the establishment gladly provided his
rlm@0: customers with. It was like a
rlm@0: grand adventure for them.
rlm@0: Travelling to a place that didn't involve shooting at, being shot
rlm@0: at, or other such
rlm@0: things that lead to an unnaturally short life.
rlm@0: "Be right back. Washroom."
rlm@0: She walked through the door, and immediately froze.
rlm@0: "You couldn't escape us, you know that."
rlm@0: Kirika's mouth opened and closed, no words coming out, the coldness
rlm@0: of the blade,
rlm@0: pressed against her throat made her eyes water.
rlm@0: "I killed you."
rlm@0: "Well, obviously, you didn't do a good job, did you." The figure
rlm@0: murmurred
rlm@0: humorously. "You weren't as sloppy when you killed that man in the
rlm@0: floor below yours."
rlm@0: "How did you know...?"
rlm@0: "Merielle was right. I was watching her. But that man was innocent,
rlm@0: you know."
rlm@0: Her mouth went dry.
rlm@0: "No. You're dead."
rlm@0: "You're repeating yourself."
rlm@0: "No, no. I KILLED you." Kirika insisted. "You're DEAD."
rlm@0: "But I'm alive."
rlm@0: "I could kill you again."
rlm@0: "I'll come back." Was the malicious reply. "And I won't be as nice."
rlm@0: Kirika quavered at the tone of voice, reduced to a child again.
rlm@0: "But... I did kill
rlm@0: you."
rlm@0: "Fine." The person sighed, and lowered the blade. "This is a
rlm@0: horrible nightmare that
rlm@0: you'll never ever wake up from, Kirika. It could be a dream. Here."
rlm@0: The person handed her a gun, cold to the touch. Her gun. She knew
rlm@0: her gun. Eyes rose
rlm@0: to search the person's face, and they smiled reassuringly. "It's a
rlm@0: nightmare. It doesn't make
rlm@0: any sense. And you know, only when you've finished what you started
rlm@0: in this horrible dream,
rlm@0: when you were just a little girl, will this end. Am I not right?"
rlm@0: "...It was beginning to be a very good dream."
rlm@0: "It was." The person nodded sagely. "For you it was. But you know
rlm@0: what they say, 'All
rlm@0: good things must come to an end'."
rlm@0: "Yes. Altena." Arms wrapped around her and a kiss brushed her
rlm@0: forehead.
rlm@0: "You have things to do, Kirika."
rlm@0: It was a horrible nightmare. She couldn't control her limbs,
rlm@0: couldn't stop herself as
rlm@0: she checked the gun mechanically, then stalked out the door. The
rlm@0: owner was nowhere in sight,
rlm@0: and the light that filtered through the rain-splattered glass made
rlm@0: everything have a horrible
rlm@0: sickening feel to it. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare.
rlm@0: She walked up behind Mireille, and the blonde didn't turn around,
rlm@0: still bent over
rlm@0: those plans to Canada, talking aloud.
rlm@0: "Plane tickets, we could go get them tomorrow... actually, we could
rlm@0: leave right away!
rlm@0: There's nothing holding us back here anymore!" Mireille still didn't
rlm@0: turn around, as she
rlm@0: laughed. "Of course, we'll have to worry about the non-existant
rlm@0: snow..."
rlm@0: If this was all just a horrible nightmare... then if she woke up,
rlm@0: Mireille wouldn't
rlm@0: be real, right? So. It had to end like this. Everything would end.
rlm@0: Or would a new nightmare
rlm@0: just begin? She really did like this dream.
rlm@0: "Mireille?" Kirika relished how her tongue wrapped around the
rlm@0: syllables of the
rlm@0: blonde's name.
rlm@0: "Yes?" And Kirika loved how Mireille answered her.
rlm@0: She still didn't look back. She really should. Or maybe she
rlm@0: shouldn't. Kirika didn't
rlm@0: have control... not the control she wanted. She could feel HER
rlm@0: watching...
rlm@0: "Hey... you know I... you know." That caught Kirika off-guard. "I
rlm@0: can't say it. But
rlm@0: maybe I'll say it some day, Kirika. I don't know. It seems like
rlm@0: everytime I say those three
rlm@0: little words to anyone, they end up dead."
rlm@0: Laughter. Mireille's laughter, and Kirika's, who sounded near
rlm@0: hysterical. She cocked
rlm@0: her gun, and she could see Mireille's shoulders freeze at the sound,
rlm@0: gasp at the feel of the
rlm@0: barrel against the back of her head.
rlm@0: "Seems like you and I are the same." Kirika didn't know why, but
rlm@0: tears were running
rlm@0: down her face. "We just can't seem to keep the people we love."
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: ~-~-~
rlm@0: 
rlm@0: OOC: SO late at night, gonna do Oedipus homework and that sucks
rlm@0: crap. My class is so funny.
rlm@0: We have one of those class-clown kids as Oedipus, and a Guyanese
rlm@0: girl who always kisses her
rlm@0: teeth at and give attitude to people playing Tiresias, the blind
rlm@0: soothsayer. So funny.
rlm@0: guy:...You have no power or truth. You are blind, your ears and mind
rlm@0: as well as your eyes.
rlm@0: (The guy adds a 'haha!' at the end)
rlm@0: girl: You are a pitiful figure. These reproaches you fling at me,
rlm@0: all these people will fling
rlm@0: them at you--and before very long. (Add a lot of kissing teeth,
rlm@0: attitude at the 'flinging'
rlm@0: parts, and eye-rolling. So it'll look like this:)
rlm@0: girl: You (