rlm@2: Afterwards
rlm@2: Immo
rlm@2: immo@hamena.org
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: Author's comments: Okay, I know the title sucks ass. Don't blame me.
rlm@2: It was either that, or
rlm@2: 'Josie and the Pussycats' cuz that was the cd I've been listening to
rlm@2: repetitively. Buy the cd
rlm@2: everybody! Oh, by the way, I love Eliza Dushku. She's the girl that
rlm@2: plays Faith in Buffy the
rlm@2: Vampire Slayer, Missy in Bring It On!, Annabel in Soul Survivors,
rlm@2: Danielle (Dan the Man) in
rlm@2: The New Guy (Watch it for the bathing suit scene!) and a whole list
rlm@2: that I won't bother, cuz
rlm@2: I'm too busy worshipping her. :P Its late. Um, its a Noir fic with
rlm@2: femslashy/yuri/shoujo-ai/
rlm@2: girl-girl love/angsty thing. Cool. I think girlgirl love is cute. So
rlm@2: shut up.
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: COMMENTS, COMPLIMENTS, REVIEWS, COMPLAINTS, FLAMES (please, no?),
rlm@2: ARE WELCOME (cept for the
rlm@2: flames). Please. I'm doing an analysis on Oedipus. Leave my psycotic
rlm@2: psychoticness alone (but
rlm@2: all C&Cs and Rs are welcome!) and read the fic.
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: ~-~-~
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: It might've been better if I had died that night. I don't know, but
rlm@2: sometimes I think
rlm@2: it would've been so much better if Mireille had killed me as soon as
rlm@2: I approached her. Then
rlm@2: she wouldn't be going through this.
rlm@2: "I don't regret a thing." Mireille and that beautiful smile.
rlm@2: What a lie that was. When she thought I was asleep, she would cry,
rlm@2: and I would just
rlm@2: lay there and listen to her, because there was nothing I could do.
rlm@2: There was nothing I
rlm@2: wouldn't do for her, but really, there was nothing I could do.
rlm@2: It was stupid of both of us to think that love would conquer all.
rlm@2: Shallow breaths and
rlm@2: passion-filled nights don't erase the blood on our hands. Especially
rlm@2: not mine. I haven't even
rlm@2: made penance for my crimes against her.
rlm@2: She would never admit to regret, not my Mireille. She was strong,
rlm@2: and I was so proud
rlm@2: of her, so drawn to her and her curious ways. Sometimes, I feel like
rlm@2: I have nothing inside me
rlm@2: and she would fill me with herself, her light, her face, her being.
rlm@2: Lately, I've been unresponsive, I've withdrawn into myself, and she
rlm@2: worries. I don't
rlm@2: want her to worry, but its so hard not to think about these things.
rlm@2: Does her family haunt her at night, screaming for revenge?
rlm@2: Why does she continue like this?
rlm@2: And I watch her, sometimes, when she's not looking and try to see
rlm@2: those ghosts that
rlm@2: surround her. I know she has one, or some, because I do too. How
rlm@2: does it feel to have a 
rlm@2: Chloe, eternally poking you with a dessert fork?
rlm@2: Just thinking about her sometimes, in an ethereal form, grinning
rlm@2: delightfully, makes
rlm@2: me smile too. But I dread it everytime I see the phantom glare at me
rlm@2: accusingly.
rlm@2: Love can't win all the time, just as hate can't win all the time
rlm@2: either. Altena, dear
rlm@2: mother, forgive me. For I have sinned.
rlm@2: Love can't erase the trainings of Noir. I was brought up, knowing
rlm@2: nothing else except
rlm@2: Noir. How could I abandon it?
rlm@2: Noir was two...
rlm@2: How could Mireille abandon her family?
rlm@2: The breeze was warm, a perfect summer day, sitting in an outdoor cafe.
rlm@2: Five to twelve. Would she be late?
rlm@2: When arms wrapped around me from behind in a tight hug, I knew that
rlm@2: was a stupid
rlm@2: question. Stupid, stupid. Of course she wouldn't be late.
rlm@2: "Good afternoon,"
rlm@2: It was amazing how, just the touch of her lips brushing against my
rlm@2: ear, the slight
rlm@2: growl in her voice, could set me on fire. She brandished a rose,
rlm@2: brushing it deftly across my
rlm@2: lips, and I found myself blushing when I saw an elderly couple
rlm@2: watching us in amusement.
rlm@2: "Mireille..." I leaned my head back, and she kissed me on the lips
rlm@2: tenderly, before
rlm@2: moving to her seat opposite me. How could anyone be so beautiful?
rlm@2: How could anyone be so damned beautiful, yet so dangerous? My eyes
rlm@2: trained on her
rlm@2: hands.
rlm@2: "Kirika, there's a show at the Paris Opera House." Two tickets
rlm@2: appeared in her hands.
rlm@2: "Lets go watch."
rlm@2: "What are we watching?"
rlm@2: Merielle shrugged, grinning. "Does it matter?"
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: And when we sat in those plush red seats, and I leaned back,
rlm@2: watching the opera, it
rlm@2: didn't really matter. The music, the whole of the opera, was
rlm@2: beautiful.
rlm@2: "Have you heard of Le Fantôme de l'opéra?" Her words whispered into
rlm@2: my ear. I 
rlm@2: shivered, as a hand brushed teasingly against my thigh.
rlm@2: "Phantom of the Opera? Isn't that a musical?" I responded in a
rlm@2: breathless tone,
rlm@2: Mireille's hair tickling my forehead, as the blonde nipped at the my
rlm@2: neck.
rlm@2: 'Mireille...'
rlm@2: "Mireille," I was ashamed of the lust that was so evident in my
rlm@2: voice. And even when
rlm@2: I tried to squirm away from her, I returned those kisses. "We're in
rlm@2: public..."
rlm@2: "In public, in private, in our own box number five." Mireille
rlm@2: chuckled when I let out
rlm@2: a loud gasp. "Only le fantôme de l'opéra will see us. Now... kiss me."
rlm@2: It didn't really matter which opera we were watching, because as the
rlm@2: orchestra played
rlm@2: on, I was just thankful it muffled the sounds we were making.
rlm@2: Mireille could be quite the 
rlm@2: risk-taker when she felt like it, and as I lay against her chest,
rlm@2: listening to her heart 
rlm@2: slowing back to normal pace, I wonder how much I've changed her.
rlm@2: We ran down the steps, past the other opera-goers, and giggled and
rlm@2: apologized when we
rlm@2: bumped into people, no amount of sour looks or complaints could kill
rlm@2: our mood. We were
rlm@2: together, alive, and well.
rlm@2: Wandering the streets, we kissed, chased each other, watched the
rlm@2: lamplights flicker
rlm@2: on and off for a while, then watched the dark waters below us, on a
rlm@2: bridge.
rlm@2: I had buried whatever normal life I had in those dark waters. Maybe
rlm@2: I should go and
rlm@2: buy myself a new sketchbook... but was that really necessary when I
rlm@2: know that simple drawings
rlm@2: on paper could not give me nearly as much life as Mireille did?
rlm@2: Strange how to people could meet under such strange circumstances,
rlm@2: yes, that was us.
rlm@2: Stranger still how one could love the murderer of your family, how
rlm@2: you could fall in love
rlm@2: with the person who said they would kill you.
rlm@2: Heh.
rlm@2: It was funny.
rlm@2: That feeling. That word. Love.
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: *-*-*
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: We had finally gotten past that last hurdle.
rlm@2: Didn't know it was so hard for both of us to just show that we cared
rlm@2: for each other.
rlm@2: We could take out a small army by ourselves, and still, those three
rlm@2: little words defeat us. I
rlm@2: don't know what we're so afraid of, but neither of us could utter
rlm@2: it, even a month after our
rlm@2: run-in with Soldats, when everything fell to a close at the Manor.
rlm@2: But was it really the end?
rlm@2: That haunted expression in Kirika's eyes... it was still there.
rlm@2: And Soldats still lurked around the corner. I could feel them. Smell
rlm@2: them, maybe. A
rlm@2: scent of old parchment, and fine red wine that intoxicated and made
rlm@2: me feel sluggish and
rlm@2: dangerously drunk.
rlm@2: "Mireille?"
rlm@2: I moved away from the window. I thought I had... no. It couldn't
rlm@2: have been. I thought
rlm@2: I had glimpsed the shine of the noonday sun off the cold steel of a
rlm@2: gun. But that wasn't
rlm@2: possible.
rlm@2: I kept telling myself that, again and again, over and over.
rlm@2: 'It wasn't possible, it wasn't possible, it wasn't possible, it's
rlm@2: very possible, you
rlm@2: two embarassed their whole organization, the two of you managed to
rlm@2: single-handedly cripple
rlm@2: Soldats and off some of their most important and powerful members,
rlm@2: you know the identity of
rlm@2: the roots of Soldats, old men who sat in seats of power...'
rlm@2: "Is something on your mind?"
rlm@2: Our eyes met, and I fought an internal struggle. Should I tell
rlm@2: Kirika about my
rlm@2: worries? Or should I keep it to myself, keep this paranoia buried
rlm@2: deep inside me and not
rlm@2: scratch at a wound that was still fresh and red. Irritable if you
rlm@2: touch it. Infections, and
rlm@2: pus caking around the edges of the cut.
rlm@2: "Nothing."
rlm@2: "Here," Kirika got up from her seat and walked behind me, hands
rlm@2: sliding across my
rlm@2: tense shoulders, thumbs and fingers caressed the bare flesh of my
rlm@2: back, slipping underneath
rlm@2: my shirt to run dry heat across the my back.
rlm@2: "Kirika," I couldn't help it, and arched my back, giving in to the
rlm@2: smaller girl's
rlm@2: ministrations.
rlm@2: "That feels nice..."
rlm@2: Lips trailed across the back of my neck.
rlm@2: "THAT, feels even nicer," I purred. Kirika's mouth turned up into a
rlm@2: small pink smile.
rlm@2: "That's exactly what I want to hear."
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: Later on in the early evening, I still had that feeling. We had
rlm@2: decided to eat at a
rlm@2: small diner we both loved, and it was easy to pick out the sore
rlm@2: thumb amongst the regular
rlm@2: patrons.
rlm@2: "That one." I was sure. So sure.
rlm@2: Kirika's eyes darted to the side, unnoticably, and she continued her
rlm@2: meal. "I see."
rlm@2: "That's why I've been acting all jumpy." pause. "Soldats."
rlm@2: Kirika's hand tightened around the fork, she placed the utensil
rlm@2: down, and reached for
rlm@2: the stem of her wineglass, almost downing all the contents in one
rlm@2: gulp.
rlm@2: "No." Her voice was harsh.
rlm@2: "I'm certain--"
rlm@2: "No." Kirika said a bit louder now. "No. No more. Its not, Mireille.
rlm@2: We leave them
rlm@2: alone, they leave us alone. Please."
rlm@2: I looked at the dark-eyed girl, saw a sort of anxiety in her.
rlm@2: "I want to believe, I want to, Mireille. That they've left us alone.
rlm@2: We have nothing
rlm@2: to do with them, they have nothing to do with us." Kirika reached
rlm@2: out to place her hand on
rlm@2: top of mine. "Please. I *need* to."
rlm@2: I could feel that rough spot on her finger, her trigger finger. Over
rlm@2: time, if one
rlm@2: pulls the trigger of a gun too much, one develops a callous on the
rlm@2: spot. Like if a person
rlm@2: writes too much. If one stops doing whatever it is that developed
rlm@2: the callous in the first
rlm@2: place, it will fade. But it takes some time.
rlm@2: So I closed myself off to the newness in the environment, and
rlm@2: ordered a strawberry
rlm@2: shortcake for myself, and Kirika ordered a chocolate cheesecake,
rlm@2: that she only managed to
rlm@2: finish half of.
rlm@2: "Lets go home."
rlm@2: The bill was paid, and we went back to our apartment. The man had
rlm@2: also paid his bill
rlm@2: and was following us. But both Kirika and I ignored it. Or at least,
rlm@2: I tried to. The
rlm@2: comforting weight of my handgun in my purse was... of little
rlm@2: comfort, as he followed us up
rlm@2: the steps to our apartment... and stopped one floor before ours. I
rlm@2: heard the jangle of his
rlm@2: keys as he let himself into his apartment.
rlm@2: I breathed out a sigh of relief. Overreating to the smallest thing,
rlm@2: that's probably
rlm@2: what Kirika was thinking right now as she unlocks the door to our
rlm@2: apartment.
rlm@2: The plant was outlined by the low-hanging moon, almost as if it
rlm@2: perched on the
rlm@2: windowsill. Kirika went to take a shower first, and I went and made
rlm@2: some tea, the ritual had
rlm@2: been set for us. I boiled the water and spooned tea leaves into the
rlm@2: teapot. Then, I went and
rlm@2: set the table for two. Usually, Kirika would be helping me... but
rlm@2: tonight there was tension.
rlm@2: I nursed my cup of tea, enjoying the herbal scent, when Kirika came
rlm@2: out of the bathroom.
rlm@2: Steam raced out between her legs, she was in her bathrobe, hair
rlm@2: hanging wet and loose, towel
rlm@2: draped over her arm.
rlm@2: "Your turn." Kirika sat on the bed, and used the towel to slowly,
rlm@2: meticulously, dry
rlm@2: her hair.
rlm@2: "The tea. It'll get cold."
rlm@2: And there was that glare, I had seen that same glare when I had gone
rlm@2: to 'rescue'
rlm@2: Kirika from the kind mother. That glare that recognized me, but
rlm@2: wished me a slow, painful,
rlm@2: torturous death.
rlm@2: "I'm sorry." She returned to normal, regret written clearly on her
rlm@2: face.
rlm@2: "No, its..." I was going to say it was my fault. But it wasn't. So
rlm@2: it would have been
rlm@2: a lie. It was awkward, just standing there, so I escaped to the
rlm@2: washroom, and hid underneath
rlm@2: the spray of the shower.
rlm@2: When I came back out, Kirika was already in bed, her cup of tea
rlm@2: finished. And my tea
rlm@2: was already cold, so I just went back into the bathroom, wiped off
rlm@2: the foggy mirror, and
rlm@2: blow-dried my hair.
rlm@2: Slipping under the covers, I turned so my back faced Kirika's.
rlm@2: 'So. This is a lover's quarrel.' Even though, outwardly I was
rlm@2: relaxed, everything was
rlm@2: a bundle of quivering nerves, and that delightful mixture of hurt
rlm@2: and fear pricked my brain.
rlm@2: A feather-light touch, and Kirika drew me into her arms, breath
rlm@2: ruffling my hair.
rlm@2: "I'm sorry."
rlm@2: "I'm not mad at you."
rlm@2: A soft chuckle that tickled my back.
rlm@2: "Yes you are."
rlm@2: Turning in Kirika's hold, our noses touching, breath smelling of
rlm@2: minty freshness from
rlm@2: the toothpaste, I smiled at her.
rlm@2: "No." Lips touched in a kiss. "I'm not."
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: *-*-*
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: Merielle woke up. It was a dreary day, one of those rainy days that
rlm@2: left everybody
rlm@2: restless. Kirika was one of those people. The sheets bunched up
rlm@2: around her legs, and the
rlm@2: blonde kicked them off irritably. 
rlm@2: "Kirika?" She called out, knowing full well that she wasn't going to
rlm@2: get a reply. The
rlm@2: girl had probably run down to one of her favorite breakfast places.
rlm@2: And sure enough, when
rlm@2: Mireille went to find her, she was sitting at their table, breakfast
rlm@2: already ordered.
rlm@2: "I ordered for two."
rlm@2: Mireille nodded, and thanked the waitress when she came back with
rlm@2: their breakfast and
rlm@2: the newspaper. Since they didn't accept contracts anymore and had
rlm@2: 'retired' from the assasin
rlm@2: business, Mireille had found the time to read the newspaper. Most of
rlm@2: the time, she scoured
rlm@2: the headlines, wondering, searching for something which never
rlm@2: appeared.
rlm@2: "Your omelette is getting cold."
rlm@2: Mirielle put down the paper.
rlm@2: "I was wondering..." Kirika started. Mireille paused, and the russet-
rlm@2: haired girl
rlm@2: continued. "I was wondering if, maybe, you think visiting Canada...
rlm@2: wouldn't it be nice? I
rlm@2: mean, there's the Niagara Falls. I heard there's always snow there,
rlm@2: so maybe catch some
rlm@2: skiing?"
rlm@2: Mireille nodded, putting fork and knife down. "A vacation?"
rlm@2: "Yes."
rlm@2: The blonde smiled, a sparkle of interest in her eyes. "You know not
rlm@2: all parts of
rlm@2: Canada have snow this time of year, right?"
rlm@2: Kirika blushed. "Of course. You're teasing me."
rlm@2: "I wouldn't dare!" Mireille laughed, and cut out a small corner of
rlm@2: her omelette. She
rlm@2: never used to eat breakfast.
rlm@2: "We'll have so much fun!" That child-like glee, that Mireille
rlm@2: mirrored. Both had been
rlm@2: deprived of most of their childhood, and now they relived it with
rlm@2: each other. Plans were laid
rlm@2: down, each detail was examined, equipment, money, everything was
rlm@2: accounted for on sheets of
rlm@2: napkin that the owner of the establishment gladly provided his
rlm@2: customers with. It was like a
rlm@2: grand adventure for them.
rlm@2: Travelling to a place that didn't involve shooting at, being shot
rlm@2: at, or other such
rlm@2: things that lead to an unnaturally short life.
rlm@2: "Be right back. Washroom."
rlm@2: She walked through the door, and immediately froze.
rlm@2: "You couldn't escape us, you know that."
rlm@2: Kirika's mouth opened and closed, no words coming out, the coldness
rlm@2: of the blade,
rlm@2: pressed against her throat made her eyes water.
rlm@2: "I killed you."
rlm@2: "Well, obviously, you didn't do a good job, did you." The figure
rlm@2: murmurred
rlm@2: humorously. "You weren't as sloppy when you killed that man in the
rlm@2: floor below yours."
rlm@2: "How did you know...?"
rlm@2: "Merielle was right. I was watching her. But that man was innocent,
rlm@2: you know."
rlm@2: Her mouth went dry.
rlm@2: "No. You're dead."
rlm@2: "You're repeating yourself."
rlm@2: "No, no. I KILLED you." Kirika insisted. "You're DEAD."
rlm@2: "But I'm alive."
rlm@2: "I could kill you again."
rlm@2: "I'll come back." Was the malicious reply. "And I won't be as nice."
rlm@2: Kirika quavered at the tone of voice, reduced to a child again.
rlm@2: "But... I did kill
rlm@2: you."
rlm@2: "Fine." The person sighed, and lowered the blade. "This is a
rlm@2: horrible nightmare that
rlm@2: you'll never ever wake up from, Kirika. It could be a dream. Here."
rlm@2: The person handed her a gun, cold to the touch. Her gun. She knew
rlm@2: her gun. Eyes rose
rlm@2: to search the person's face, and they smiled reassuringly. "It's a
rlm@2: nightmare. It doesn't make
rlm@2: any sense. And you know, only when you've finished what you started
rlm@2: in this horrible dream,
rlm@2: when you were just a little girl, will this end. Am I not right?"
rlm@2: "...It was beginning to be a very good dream."
rlm@2: "It was." The person nodded sagely. "For you it was. But you know
rlm@2: what they say, 'All
rlm@2: good things must come to an end'."
rlm@2: "Yes. Altena." Arms wrapped around her and a kiss brushed her
rlm@2: forehead.
rlm@2: "You have things to do, Kirika."
rlm@2: It was a horrible nightmare. She couldn't control her limbs,
rlm@2: couldn't stop herself as
rlm@2: she checked the gun mechanically, then stalked out the door. The
rlm@2: owner was nowhere in sight,
rlm@2: and the light that filtered through the rain-splattered glass made
rlm@2: everything have a horrible
rlm@2: sickening feel to it. It was a nightmare. Just a nightmare.
rlm@2: She walked up behind Mireille, and the blonde didn't turn around,
rlm@2: still bent over
rlm@2: those plans to Canada, talking aloud.
rlm@2: "Plane tickets, we could go get them tomorrow... actually, we could
rlm@2: leave right away!
rlm@2: There's nothing holding us back here anymore!" Mireille still didn't
rlm@2: turn around, as she
rlm@2: laughed. "Of course, we'll have to worry about the non-existant
rlm@2: snow..."
rlm@2: If this was all just a horrible nightmare... then if she woke up,
rlm@2: Mireille wouldn't
rlm@2: be real, right? So. It had to end like this. Everything would end.
rlm@2: Or would a new nightmare
rlm@2: just begin? She really did like this dream.
rlm@2: "Mireille?" Kirika relished how her tongue wrapped around the
rlm@2: syllables of the
rlm@2: blonde's name.
rlm@2: "Yes?" And Kirika loved how Mireille answered her.
rlm@2: She still didn't look back. She really should. Or maybe she
rlm@2: shouldn't. Kirika didn't
rlm@2: have control... not the control she wanted. She could feel HER
rlm@2: watching...
rlm@2: "Hey... you know I... you know." That caught Kirika off-guard. "I
rlm@2: can't say it. But
rlm@2: maybe I'll say it some day, Kirika. I don't know. It seems like
rlm@2: everytime I say those three
rlm@2: little words to anyone, they end up dead."
rlm@2: Laughter. Mireille's laughter, and Kirika's, who sounded near
rlm@2: hysterical. She cocked
rlm@2: her gun, and she could see Mireille's shoulders freeze at the sound,
rlm@2: gasp at the feel of the
rlm@2: barrel against the back of her head.
rlm@2: "Seems like you and I are the same." Kirika didn't know why, but
rlm@2: tears were running
rlm@2: down her face. "We just can't seem to keep the people we love."
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: ~-~-~
rlm@2: 
rlm@2: OOC: SO late at night, gonna do Oedipus homework and that sucks
rlm@2: crap. My class is so funny.
rlm@2: We have one of those class-clown kids as Oedipus, and a Guyanese
rlm@2: girl who always kisses her
rlm@2: teeth at and give attitude to people playing Tiresias, the blind
rlm@2: soothsayer. So funny.
rlm@2: guy:...You have no power or truth. You are blind, your ears and mind
rlm@2: as well as your eyes.
rlm@2: (The guy adds a 'haha!' at the end)
rlm@2: girl: You are a pitiful figure. These reproaches you fling at me,
rlm@2: all these people will fling
rlm@2: them at you--and before very long. (Add a lot of kissing teeth,
rlm@2: attitude at the 'flinging'
rlm@2: parts, and eye-rolling. So it'll look like this:)
rlm@2: girl: You (