Talk Therapy


Disclaimer: Gunslinger Girl is not mine.

Gunslinger Girl is not mine. Linked to my previous fics Her Prince Charming, A Picture Is Worth Your Life, Such A Tease and Life Goes On. Enjoy.



Chapter Four

Handler


"I am not in love with Hilshire!" Triela enunciated each hateful word as if spitting out venom. "I do notwant to fall in love with him, ever!"

"Rather strange of you to say that. And I didn't say anything about falling in love."

"You know what I mean! It's probably just some crazy side-effect of the conditioning!"

"I doubt it. Otherwise, there would be a long line for my advice, with Rico at the very head of it due her excessively heavy conditioning and Henrietta beginning to doubt exactly how she sees Miss Mireille."

"I'm not Rico and Hilshire is no Meir. And even if Hilshire was a Meir, I wouldn't kiss him even if he were the last man on the planet, even if the whole of humankind depended on it–"

"You're contradicting yourself. The whole of humankind cannot depend on you if its population has been reduced to just you and Hilshire." In more ways than one, Claes diplomatically decided not to say aloud.

"Stop acting so smart!" Triela's hands hovered midway between her head and Claes' throat; she couldn't decide whether to tear her ponytails off her head or to strangle her cloyingly sophistic roommate. "Oh, I suppose you're lucky because you don't have a handler, so you don't have to go through all of the problems that we have–"

Claes went wordlessly rigid, her eyes intense, as if preparing to step into the figurative gaping chasm that the accusation had ripped open between them. Triela, remembering a vegetable garden and burning-eyed Henrietta not so long ago, was promptly aghast and apologetic over her spiteful words.

"I'm sorry, Claes, I didn't mean to say that–"

"There is nothing to apologize for." But her extreme aloofness only belied her statements. "You are correct. I have never had a handler. I do not know what you feel. I did not go through the things you did. I cannot understand your problem at all. In this regard, I am not the correct person to turn to for advice in such. I am the one who must apologize."

"Don't be a stubborn mule. Only Hilshire can do that around here." The blonde sighed deeply. "Besides, who else can I turn to? Rico is useless in stuff like this. So are Liesel, Beatrice, Petrushka, the whole lot of them. And Henrietta–"

"I can easily predict her answer. She will say with such innocent faith, 'But Triela, you should like your handler'," and this Claes said in an almost perfect Henrietta accent, clasping her hands extra cutely for effect, her mood suddenly bright, "And then begin comparing you and Hilshire to her and Giuseppe, thus shaming you into patching up with Hilshire."

"Exactly. You're the only who can give me a serious answer that makes sense. Besides, I can never be shamed into doing such a stupid thing. And there's nothing to patch up and no reason to be shamed."

"I seem to remember you parading around the compound while wearing your dress and with your hair down. And throwing Hilshire a flying kiss after a mission in Palermo. And continuously testing his patience by challenging him to increase your conditioning. A temptation to which he has never risen, I point out, but surely one that he considered a lot on his worse days."

"Your memory is the one addled by the conditioning," Triela managed to return with her usual wit. "You're talking about events that never happened."

"Perhaps." Still, however small it was, Claes' mysterious smile of pleasure remained. Again her unseen muse whispered an inspiration into her ear. "How about asking Angelica?"

That got a reaction almost as good as her earlier guess.

"Angie? You want me to ask Angie for help?"

"Why not? She seems capable whenever she's lucid."

"That's the nub. Angie's been mostly out of it lately. She doesn't have much time left to live, you know."

"All the more reason to go and ask her. They say a dying person has a very unique and special view of things. Anyway, it's worth a try. And we haven't visited her in a while."

"I guess anything is…"

Claes stood up. "Then I will accompany you."

"You're a pal, you know, that Claes?" This Triela said with truthful affection. Her friend smiled back.

"Always."


To Be Continued