Author's note: Although I tend to think of Mireille and Kirika together when I reflect on Noir I decided that given a chance to create a continuation of the series Chloe deserves an opportunity to find the love, acceptance, and approval she so desperately sought, and I thought this territory was worth exploring. Perhaps not the typical post-series plot-line but that's what I think lends it a bit of energy.

Thanks for taking the time to read. I've done everything I can to make it worth your while. - QS

CHAPTER 1 - Loss and Finding

Mireille sat alone, sipping coffee at her preferred sidewalk café. She skimmed through a magazine while deciding whether to head home or to distract herself with another stint of window shopping.

Three weeks? Mireille asked herself. Or had it been four? Ever since Kirika left, time passed in stretches of melancholy separated by fleeting bursts of manic distraction. But she also admitted that some subtleties of life had begun to restore themselves; an afternoon cup of coffee tasted good once again and shopping for clothes now proved satisfying enough to ward off the doldrums of her loneliness for several hours.

Her reverie shattered as she heard the groan of the iron-legged café chair across from hers being drawn over centuries-old cobblestones. She raised her eyes and her limbs jolted at who she saw now taking the seat opposite hers. Her mind raced, doubting her senses and her sanity. She became aware of her own involuntary apoplexy, hearing small halted sounds escaped from her throat through her gaping mouth.

Mireille was now certain- Chloe sat before her looking ragged, emaciated, unkempt.

The girl's head hung low, her filthy hair concealed her eyes from Mireille's scrutiny. On the pavement beside her lay a satchel layered in dust and grime.

"Y-You... Chloe. Chloe?" Mireille managed to stammer, reigning in her disbelief as it caved to the undeniable reality in front of her. "You- we thought you were dead." Mireille thought more and added, "You were dead. You had no pulse. You weren't breathing. I-It's-"

Chloe raised her head enough for her eyes to openly contact Mireille's. Her pale, sunken face seemed to convey the sorrow and privation she was certain to have endured making her way from the Pyrenees to Paris in her condition. Her voice sounded thin and weary as she responded, "I thought that too, but it seems we were both wrong."

Mireille began to strategize. She dipped her right hand into her handbag, settling her fingers around the grip of her pistol, reasoning that Chloe had sought her out for revenge.

"Where is she?" Chloe asked.

Mireille understood who Chloe had to have been referring to. She felt her throat ache a bit as she said, "She needed to quit. She left. She's finishing school so she can live a better life."

"She hurt you," Chloe said. A corner of her mouth rose, signaling some kind of satisfaction.

Mireille felt her eyes narrow in an involuntary response to Chloe's expression. "Why are you here?"

Chloe took some time to reply, as if choosing her words with care before speaking. "Where else can I go?" She looked down, gazing into her lap as she added, "Even now I scarcely think I have one thing left to live for."

"Right." Mireille smirked and pulled her Walther from her purse and settled it in her lap, concealed beneath the table, its muzzle trained on Chloe. "And what brings you to me?"

"I thought about this meeting for some time- Ever since I woke up, actually. I understood that you would be suspicious." Chloe looked up again to meet Mireille's gaze with her weary, sunken eyes. Her speech seemed stilted, nervous as she said, "I am here to apologize. I want your forgiveness- the way you forgave her." She then hastily added, "And her sins against you and your family are far graver than my own. I am not here for revenge. I hold nothing against you."

Mireille relaxed a bit; whether malicious or beneficent Chloe had always acted with complete sincerity. Mireille's tactical assessment of Chloe began to morph from apprehension to a thread of pity. Already sure of the answer, she asked, "Where are you staying?"

"It took hours, but I finally found you. I just got here this morning. I have nowhere else to be."

"Chloe..." Mireille started, reluctant but compelled to allay her own guilty feelings with a measure of charity. "Chloe, you look like you need some rest. I'll let you rest at my place."

Chloe's features lit up, almost beaming with obvious relief. Her eyes shone with impending tears.

"Don't get the wrong idea." Mireille looked away and explained, "I'm only offering because no hotel within a hundred kilometers would possibly trust a room to a ragamuffin like you. And if They find out you're alive, and in such pathetic condition, you're going to be dead by midnight. Since you foolishly decided to contact me in public, They are now, no doubt, well aware of your presence." Mireille chuckled, "Didn't you think at all? Didn't you realize that They're watching me all the time?" She discretely slid her pistol back into her handbag and rose, now smiling; full of satisfaction that for once she was in control of the situation and Chloe was the one at her mercy. "Follow me before my sense of charity expires."

Chloe immediately stood and picked up her bag.

Through the eight block walk back to her apartment Mireille found she needed to slow her pace and stop a few times as she led Chloe. The depth of the other's physical weakness became obvious. How had she survived? Mireille continued to wonder. Once at the building, Mireille almost offered to take Chloe's bag as she glanced over her shoulder, seeing the decrepit yet strong-willed girl struggle with the exertion of the four flights that led to the top.

Once Chloe passed into the apartment, Mireille locked the door and leaned against it. Chloe's back was to her. She debated whether or not to simply trim this nuisance thread with a nine millimeter lead slug. Chloe was weaker and more vulnerable than ever. This may be the best opportunity to remove the problem, Mireille pondered. Then she began to process the exact same facts from a different, less ruthless viewpoint. Chloe was more vulnerable than ever. Chloe trusted her; trusted her completely. Could she bring herself to do it? Would she convince herself later that it was out of mercy? Mireille felt her chest ache a bit as she thought more of why Chloe was there.

She stepped away from the door and into the apartment to find Chloe standing, gazing out the window into the golden haze of Parisian rooftops gilded by the late afternoon cast. "You should sit. You look exhausted," Mireille said. She then considered her immediate revulsion at Chloe's filthy condition and thought better of the plan. "Actually, why don't you get cleaned up? You look like you've needed a shower for weeks. The bathroom is this way," she said, gesturing.

Chloe picked up her bag and turned to follow, wearing what seemed a bright expression despite her obviously poor health. She then stopped in front of Mireille and bowed her head, saying, "Thank you... I mean this sincerely. Thank you for your hospitality."

Mireille found the display unsettling but managed to feign a slight smile which seemed to be what the other needed most in response. She gestured through the bathroom door and said, "Just drop your things on the floor in front of the sink. We'll get rid of them later. I'll see what I may have for you to wear while you're getting yourself cleaned up." She added, neglecting to conceal her disgust, "Your clothes are beyond ruined."

Mireille then rounded the corner to her bedroom. Once she heard the door close and the water start, she began sifting through the top drawer of her dresser, searching for some clothes that might fit Chloe.

While rummaging she happened across a few of Kirika's things and paused. Unable to set aside her feelings, she closed her eyes for a moment and allowed herself a brief exploration into the topic she had been avoiding for weeks. She found herself split on the issue; half of her angry that Kirika left her alone, the other half happy that one who meant so much to her was making her escape from the horrible, dark, descending spiral that had defined the previous chapter of their lives.

She had to tell Kirika about Chloe, she thought. Kirika needed to know that Chloe's death was something for which she needed no atonement. Would she return then? Mireille swallowed, careful to steady her thoughts and keep her feelings in check. Was that the main reason all along? Her guilt over Chloe?

A clamor resounded through the wall. Mireille dropped the t-shirt she had been clutching and whipped around the corner. She pushed through the bathroom door to see Chloe crumpled naked on the stone floor of the shower. She rushed to open the shower door and reached out to shut off the water. "Chloe? Chloe?"

The sopping tangle of ribs and feeble limbs responded, "I'm alright. I lost my balance." She struggled to conceal herself and rise.

"Stop," Mireille ordered. "You're too weak for this." She sighed, "Let's get you dried off."

Chloe turned her back to Mireille and growled, "I'm okay. I just lost my balance. I didn't even get to soap-up."

Mireille sighed again, "I suppose I could let you kill yourself. But I don't want to dispose of the dirty corpse I'm sure to find in my shower if I let you have your way." Mireille noticed Chloe's shoulders jostle through a few convulsive waves of shivers. She heard Chloe desperately trying not to let her teeth chatter, still facing away, hiding her weakness as best she could but failing.

Never before, even the dozen or more moments when a person begged Mireille to spare their life had she seen someone so pitiable and vulnerable. She pulled off her boots and shed the rest of her outer clothes, casting them beyond the door and out into the corner of the bedroom. Now stripped to her underwear, she crouched into the shower and reached around Chloe's elbows to lift her. "Come on. Stand up. Let's get this over with."

Chloe's atrophied body weighed disturbingly less than Mireille expected. With Mireille's support, Chloe managed to stand; shaking, shivering, and tearing.

Mireille turned on the shower and reached up to angle the nozzle to better focus the hot water on her quivering charge. She handed Chloe soap and waited for her to lather it onto herself. After a frustrating half minute, Mireille grabbed the soap and did the work herself to speed up the whole unpleasant procedure. She distanced herself by likening it to cleaning dishes rather than playing an unwilling nurse to a crying, shamed, and weakened adversary.

The self-delusion faded too soon as Mireille's hands witnessed the girl's sickly boniness. She felt her throat tighten and tried to hurry more, fighting to ignore Chloe's ever intensifying, heaving sobs. "We're almost done," Mireille said, unsure whether to reassure Chloe or herself. She dug her fingers into the tangles of Chloe's hair and scrubbed, trying her best to rid the other's burgundy locks of the nits and dirt they surely held.

Once convinced she had scoured the other thoroughly, Mireille rinsed both of them free of suds and then quickly stepped out of the shower. She grabbed her towel and wrapped it around Chloe as fast as she could before shedding her own soaked underthings and tying another towel around herself.

Chloe remained motionless, facing away, continuing to sob.

"Come on, dry off so we can put clothes on you and sit you down somewhere before you fall over again."

After a moment, Chloe seemed to compose herself and complied, patting herself with the towel with obvious frailty but equally obvious earnestness to do as Mireille insisted.

Back in the bedroom, Mireille began to hand the t-shirt from before to Chloe and then stopped herself, reconsidering the choice.

As though having read Mireille's thoughts, Chloe asked, "Could I borrow something that's yours? I can't wear anything that... isn't yours."

Mireille closed her eyes and nodded, fully empathetic to the situation. She gave Chloe her seldom-worn rose silk pajama set and then turned to search for something for herself. She settled on her usual oversized white pinpoint shirt and slipped into it quickly. She took a moment to tie her still damp hair back and turned to find Chloe curled atop the blankets of her bed.

Where will she sleep tonight? Mireille asked herself. The sight reminded her of Kirika's first day in France, most of it spent sleeping-off jet lag; though this curious little guest had it worse- a feeble pallor comparable only to people with advanced terminal illness.

She'll sleep in the bed tonight, Mireille reasoned, just like the other time. But tomorrow, she determined, she would buy a sofa.

# # #

Mireille had awoken just after sunrise and secreted away to buy some breakfast to bring back for herself and her malnourished guest. Once back, she set two cups of coffee and a few of the pastries out and then went to wake the other.

She peered down to find Chloe must have slept soundly for her body appeared to be in the same position it had been the evening before.

"Chloe? Wake up. You need to eat."

Chloe made no motion to indicate a response.

Mireille sighed and reached down to shake her into wakefulness.

Chloe stirred and gently clutched Mireille's hand. With her eyes still closed she pulled Mireille's hand close to her face and placed a gentle kiss on the back of it. She then sighed, "Thank you. Thank you, Mireille." She released her hold and began to rise, edging to the side of the bed.

Mireille dismissed the strange contact and shifted her focus instead to helping Chloe stand, given her extreme frailty the day before. She hovered close by as the other made her way toward the table where breakfast sat waiting.

Chloe helped herself to a seat and waited for Mireille to sit before reaching to one of the croissants and tearing a piece from it with the obvious avarice of bone-deep hunger.

Mireille tried to encourage her. "Eat as much as you can. Put butter on everything. You're sickly. You could stand to gain ten kilos." She took a few sips of her coffee and looked up from her newspaper, reflexively pleased to see Chloe eating with hedonistic abandon; a sweet pastry in her left hand and a savory one in her right and crumbs from both stuck to her mouth and cheeks.

Once Chloe appeared to have filled up and began sipping the now lukewarm coffee, Mireille decided to sate her own appetite for knowledge. "So you just woke up? At the manor? When?"

Chloe cleaned her face with one of the paper napkins that Mireille had left folded next to her plate. "I woke up. I don't know when it was. It was night. I thought about you."

Mireille felt her brow knit. "Why me?"

"I need to apologize to you. Your forgiveness is everything to me." Chloe drew another sip of coffee. "Now I've become an orphan- just like you. Surely this was not the plan, but it happened this way nonetheless."

Mireille turned from Chloe to look toward the window, finding the outside world easier to confront. "Well then, I forgive you. So you're welcome to go impose somewhere else." She regretted her words after hearing them out loud. "I didn't mean that." She turned to Chloe to find her in an obvious state of upset. "Look, I-I'm... I'm just a solitary kind of person. I don't know how to... This isn't something I'm used to."

"You don't have to explain," Chloe said, apparent defeat in her voice. "I don't know why I'm here, why I'm alive. And I came to you- I thought it was right, proper. But it wasn't." Chloe stood and began stacking their plates. "My home is gone. Mistress Altena is gone. I thought there could only be one person that I could have been brought back for. And I thought all this time that it was you... But it doesn't really make any sense, now does it? It sounds even more foolish now that I've said it to you, out loud."

Mireille's impatience got the better of her. She stood and pushed Chloe back into her seat. She braced the other's shoulders and said, "Stop it. These emotional games won't work on me. I've had enough. I could kill you right now... So is that what you want? To trap me into finishing what she couldn't?"

Chloe's head sank. She trembled through some stifled tears, obviously trying to hide them from Mireille. "I'm sorry, Mireille. I don't want to make you mad." Chloe began to blubber, "I came here because I don't have anyone... anyone at all. I made it my mission, my purpose to come here, to come to you." Chloe looked up with what could have been a vague smile raising her cheeks a little as she continued, "And when you said she left you, I was- I was happy, because I thought it confirmed the reason I came back. I thought maybe there could be a place for me here. That maybe I was supposed to take her place." Chloe pleaded, "Please don't be upset with me. I won't mention it again..."

Mireille stood and pinched the bridge of her nose, closing her eyes, increasing the pressure to her head in order to squash the ridiculous emotions that began to stir within her as she heard Chloe's story and continued, pitiable pleas. She swallowed and calmed, feeling like she had regained control. "Stand up," she ordered.

Chloe obeyed at once and rose from her chair to stand an arm's length away, facing Mireille. Tears continued to run down her bony cheeks and she sniffled, apparently trying to repress the last vestiges of her outpouring. She whispered, pleading, "I'm sorry, Mireille."

Mireille leaned back a bit, visualizing the sizing of Chloe's clothes. She reached out with her fingers to comb a semblance of neatness into Chloe's dark red mop of hair. "Well... you're stuck here until I get clothes for you." She took a step back and performed more mental measurements. "Let's figure out how I'll get rid of you one step at a time."

Chloe collapsed into the chair, folded her arms on the table and hid her face.

Mireille sighed, "If you're going to stay here, you need to learn when to take me seriously and when I'm making a joke."

Chloe looked up, her mouth quivering, her eyes glowing, desperate with hope.

Mireille rolled her eyes. "I'm not repeating it."

Chloe stood and reached both arms out as though to hug but to Mireille's relief seemed to stop herself. She returned her arms to her sides and lowered her head. "Thank you."

"And stop all of this bawling. You're dehydrated and you're making it worse."

Chloe bowed her head lower and said, "Yes, Mireille. Thank you, Mireille."