AN: Hey, this would be my first attempt at a Noir fanfic. If any of you are Kiddy Grade fans by chance, I haven't forgotten about my story, i'm just waiting for season 2, hoping for more clues and inspiration to write. Anyway, I thank my Nemu-chan for inspiring this. Hope you enjoy. Warning, it's post series so don't read unless you've finished! It ruins a series if you hop to the end!
Do I honestly need to tell you I don't own Noir? XD' I certainly don't.
- - -
It was early morning; early enough one could still see traces of night in the sky. A jeep plowed on, heading in the direction of Paris. Air rushed through the jeep, stirring long blond strands and shifting much shorter, darker ones. It felt incredibly refreshing after their ordeal. No matter how much Mireille had adapted to her heels, they hadn't provided any comfort or aid as she stumbled through the dark supporting herself and Kirika. She supposed she would have been uncomfortable if she had been wearing sneakers regardless.
Kirika.
Mireille discreetly glanced at the passenger in the seat next to her. Her tired blue eyes narrowed further, pained at Kirika's condition. They had done little more than wrap the gunshot wound to halt the bleeding. Though Mireille knew this had been because they lacked the right equipment, she still wished she had been to do more. The poor girl had been through so much already and the wound had been received in her defense.
It's far more than that you know. Mireille's frown deepened, then softened. That much was true. She could admit to herself it truly bothered her, whether Kirika's pain was physical or emotional. Her gaze shifted back to the road. Steady, survival comes first. She's held herself up so far, a little longer won't hurt. It was best to focus on what she could do for the time being.
Kirika hadn't missed the slight changes on her partner's face and wondered what she was thinking. Exhaling silently, the Japanese girl closed her eyes and smiled internally. She simply couldn't believe she was sitting, more or less alive, next to Mireille again. Despite their promise, the trials, just about everything, here they were again. That alone gave her peace for the moment.
Nothing more had been said until they entered the apartment beyond Kirika's agreement to make tea when they returned home. It was still quiet beyond Kirika's small gasps of pain as her wound was treated. Their silence had never been comfortable, rather they had grown accustomed to it. Each had thoughts racing through their minds.
I can't feel that way about her, she's a sixteen year old girl.
I killed her parents, why did beg me to live when she should have taken my life?
Damn it, I do care about her.
I killed Chloe too, my other half. So many have died by these hands…
So much to say yet neither spoke up. However, they'd yet to have their first tea back together.
After several days, Mireille deemed Kirika rested enough to brew tea. Her mind twisted and struggled to the very moment where Kirika poured the tea, debating where to start and what to say. The day had been a mild one, the evening cool. Weather had become a bigger problem what with the windows still shattered. The glass had been swept up, but had yet to be replaced. Mireille was wearing her favorite white shirt that served as pajamas, Kirika in her oversized pink sweater and shorts.
Kirika's eyes finally rested on the broken plant pot. Her eyes widened. Mireille cursed silently. Well, it's somewhere a starting point.
"Kirika…I read your letter," she spoke softly. The cute assassin froze, waiting for her companion to continue, to say something, anything. She couldn't return the blonde's gaze. A tiny part of her held hope. Had that anything to do with the Corsican coming to the manor?
Said Corsican tried to continue, failed, and cleared her throat. "I have to say, it wasn't something I expected. It was clear to me you cared, but not to that extent. I can't say I was pleased to learn Noir was a name for two, I fully intended to keep my word." Mireille had risen at this point, staring out the window at the sky.
"However, when you left…after the graveyard…I tried to live my life the way I had before. Just me, nothing closer than my contacts. I liked it that way, I really did. It kept things simple. But I couldn't. An emptiness i've never felt before was there."
Kirika was still. Her expression was unreadable, but her brown eyes were soulful. Disbelief at what she was hearing, but also the joy she spoke of in her letter. "Mireille…"
Mireille fought to be as honest as possible while still protecting herself. "I…can't imagine having a future, whether it's as assassins or something else, that doesn't include you. I want to keep having tea and know you'll cover my back. You've been through so much and I don't know how I could ever heal any of it. But i'd like to try." She turned away from the window to look directly at the cute killer as she uttered that last sentence. Sapphire eyes widened, startled and worried to see tears.
"Uh, i'm sorry, I shouldn't have," Kirika cut her off. "It's not that! It's just…" she let out a sob, "I'm happy, I truly am. Mireille…" Tentatively at first, then boldly, she stumbled over, dropped down, and wrapped herself around the Corsican's waist, crying silently into her stomach. They say what's in a name, but the way she captures me by saying mine…
"Ssh, it's alright, calm down." Mireille sank down to her knees too, shifting Kirika's face into her shoulder while stroking her hair. The blonde found her eyes filling as well, but remained steady. "Hey, you're getting my shirt all wet and it's the wrong color you know."
Kirika jerked back, blushing. Mireille chuckled and pulled her back. "I'm kidding, see? Use the other side so it at least evens out." Mutely nodding, she sank back into the blonde's embrace. After several moments, the brunette delicately touched her partner's lips with her fingertips.
Mireille tensed, caught between her own feelings and guilt over their age difference. She quickly decided it hardly mattered. "If you'd like to try, I wouldn't say no," was her whispered answer. Entangling her hands in silky blonde locks, Kirika tried, gently, but gravely as one would a most serious task.
No, they still hadn't decided what to do with the Soldats let alone their own future. The apartment was still in desperate need of refurnishing. It didn't change their inexperience in affection. But it was a much needed beginning for the former maidens of Noir.
- - -
Ha, I seldom write fanfic because I have specific scenes set up in my mind, but I have so much trouble putting that image into words and deciding how to begin and end it. I had fluff in mind when I started this, but it being Noir, it would take at least another chapter to write it in without being OOC. Bai bai, thank you for reading!
Kyobi