Chapter 1:
Pain. The only thing she could notice upon regaining consciousness was this overwhelming pain. Finding herself lying on her chest, Mireille tried to sort out the various sources of the feeling but quickly found this difficult to do. There was an incredible heat all over her body that made her feel as if she was on fire but she had no idea where it came from. Despite that pain however she managed to feel other things as well. She was lying underneath something, something that felt heavy and working through the haze of pain she concluded that whatever it might be it was resting on her broken bones. Her lungs felt as if they were burning in the same fire that covered her skin and when she coughed she was dimly aware of the coppery taste of blood.
Opening her eyes felt like the hardest thing she had ever done, her breathing was becoming more difficult however and she needed to find out why. Whatever had happened to her wasn't important now, survival came first. When she finally managed to tear open her eyes, she couldn't see anything. For a moment she was overcome by panic, before more rational thoughts reasserted themselves. She wasn't blind, she was just somewhere dark.
She tried to listen if she could hear anything, but it was strangely quiet. For a moment she considered shouting, but the pain that tore through her chest when she coughed disabused her of that idea. Mireille tried to move her arms and discovered that while her right arm was trapped she was able to use her left. It hurt to do so but she used it to explore as much of her surroundings as possible, and could feel the texture of the stones and wood that surrounded her.
Dimly she once again became aware of her laborious breathing and realized that her air was running out. She needed to open up a hole so fresh air could come in, without it she would die and that wasn't something she was prepared to do just yet. Using her free arm she began to tug at the looser pieces of rubble surrounding her. It was difficult, she didn't have any leverage and her strength had been reduced to almost nothing. The difficulty she had with creating even the tiniest of holes made her panic again. That was unacceptable however and she had to consciously exert herself in order to calm down. Panicking would only use up what little air she had left even faster.
In the end she managed to create a tiny hole through which air could enter and she hastily gulped in the fresh air, until she realized it wasn't as fresh as she had hoped. The black smoke that had entered through the hole caused another series of painful coughs and she craned her head to see where it had come from. Peering through the tiny hole she noticed flames everywhere. This however gave her some uncomfortable questions to answer. Why couldn't she hear the flames? Was she deaf? Where was she and how had she come here? Where was Kirika? Why hadn't her partner come to help her yet?
A memory flashed through her mind then, she had heard Kirika yell out a warning. But what kind of warning? She needed to remember, but it was becoming ever more difficult to think. When her vision began to swim in front of her eyes, all she could do was to try and stay conscious. Her attempts proved futile however and her last thought before slipping back into unconsciousness was the hope that it wouldn't take her partner long to find her.
. . . .
Voices. The next time Mireille woke the predominant thing in her tiny world was still pain, but she also heard far-away tinny voices. Relief flooded her for a moment, she wasn't deaf and Kirika must have found her. Hands were touching her body and she allowed this until she dimly realized they were too large to belong to her petite partner. She tried to struggle a little and could hear someone shouting from a great distance. "She's alive! We've got a life one here!"
This was dangerous, it could be anyone that had found her. In her pain filled mind, the blond assassin could only respond the way she had been trained. She tried to get away from the danger represented by the owner of that voice but again her weak body betrayed her and she blacked out.
. . . .
Once more she woke up to the sound of tinny voices, but this time they sounded a little closer and there were hands and things all over her body. She tried to struggle but someone held her down, sending a fresh wave of agony through her body. Subsiding she tried using her other senses to determine where she was. Sounds were still difficult to determine, while she could make out the voices she couldn't concentrate on what was being said and there was also some kind of annoying ringing in her ears. Smell, all she could smell was fresh ashes, as if she was in some place that had been burned to the ground only hours ago.
Her body was still hurting, but she decided it would be best if she'd open her eyes and try to determine her location. If she wanted to escape from here, she needed to know where here was and what the environment looked like. Opening her eyes however, showed her a group of paramedics above her prone body. She also noticed the clear sky, indicating that she was outside somewhere. At least she was away from the dark place. The paramedics' behavior was strange however, she hadn't expected anyone to go to this much trouble unless they wanted to kidnap her, or they might even be real paramedics but that didn't make her feel any better. Ambulances meant that there was likely police involvement as well.
One of them seemed to notice her open eyes and concentrating hard she could understand what he was saying to his colleagues. "She's awake." He then turned to her and asked her name.
Strange, somehow she'd expected them to know who she was, but she whispered an answer anyway. "Mireille."
He then smiled at her and continued speaking. "Hello Mireille, you are one lucky girl. I'd like to do some small tests to check for any brain damage though. How many fingers am I holding up?" And he lifted his hand with two fingers extended.
Giving him the correct answer Mireille was then subjected to a series of simple tests that seemed to cheer the man up. Apparently nothing seemed to be damaged, although he told her there would be more extensive tests later in the hospital.
"Now, do you know where you are?"
She had to think about this for a moment, her last memories before waking up were of a pleasant day spent in Paris and then returning home. "Home, we just arrived."
For a moment Mireille believed the paramedic flinched at the word we, but she must have been mistaken. He then spoke to her again, driving that thought out of her mind by the need to concentrate on what he was saying. "Good, the police will probably want to speak to you later about what happened, but it might help you to try and remember what happened here."
What was the man talking about? It was obvious something had happened and she had no intention of talking to the police, but he sounded concerned about her welfare here. And where was Kirika? Mireille could hardly remember the last time she was wounded without the Japanese girl being around to help her. She tried to focus her memory as the paramedic had asked her to and thought back to the moment they had entered the building. She could remember the two of them going upstairs and opening the door. But then the annoying woman had wanted to bother her again. She had returned to the lower floor and had some kind of conversation with the woman, although she couldn't recall what it was about. Then she had gone back upstairs and heard Kirika's warning shout. "KIRIKA!"
Moving into a sitting position she tried to get up, Kirika had shouted about a bomb. She might be hurt as well. She needed to go to her, but the paramedics tried to stop her and she was still weak. "Where is Kirika?" She demanded of them.
"Don't worry about that now, you must take care of yourself first."
Hearing those platitudes made her even more anxious about her partner's fate. She had been in the apartment, where apparently the bomb had been and with her warning had saved Mireille's life. The fact that the paramedics didn't want to talk about her partner indicated that the girl might not have been so lucky. "Where is she? I demand to see her."
"Calm down Mireille, you need rest in order to heal."
Their evasiveness didn't calm her in the least and she craned her head to look at the building in which she had lived ever since she left her uncle's home. The top floor was gone, where once her apartment had been was now nothing but the skeletal remains of the building. But surely Kirika couldn't have been killed by a bomb. While she hated Altena with a vengeance for the crimes the woman had committed, she knew that the priestess had trained Kirika well. Surely that training must have covered how to survive being bombed.
Even knowing she was grasping at straws she once again tried to get up in order to look for her partner, hitting and kicking everyone who tried to stop her. A tiny prick in her arm however turned her focus back to those doing their best to save her life. With a curse she looked at the sympathetic faces of the paramedics before the anesthetic did its job and she lost consciousness again.
. . . .
This time when she regained consciousness she was alone. If she read the signs right however, she was in a hospital. Both the completely white room and the smell indicated this. If there was one smell she had learned to hate in her life, it was that smell that always seemed to be present in hospitals. The one that indicated that they had used about every disinfectant in existence in order to create a stench that would make even the healthiest sick, which would give them a reason to put you in there, even if you had only come to visit a friend.
Putting aside her issues with hospitals she started to check for a way out. This time her head was a lot clearer and she could remember the paramedic telling her that the police wanted to speak to her. She might be a victim this time, but she had absolutely no intention of voluntarily speaking to the police. They always came up with annoying questions and considering the scene she had made, their interest would have surely increased.
A horrible thought suddenly coursed through her head that made her look at her fingers. The lack of ink on them seemed to indicate they hadn't taken her prints, she wasn't certain whether they were allowed to do that if she wasn't accused of anything but it might be best to leave before they decided to do it anyway. She was in a private room, this had both positive and negative aspects. There wasn't anyone who could betray what she was doing, but on the other there wasn't anyone around to use as a distraction either.
There were two doors in the room; one of them was partially open though so she could see it only led to the bathroom. The other door probably opened to the hallway, but she'd need more information about the layout of the hospital before going that way. Her only other option would be the window, but it didn't look like it could be opened far enough to let her through. All in all she didn't consider this to be a good beginning in her bid for freedom.
Only now, after she had checked the more important things that concerned her immediate safety did she pay conscious attention to her own condition. Her right arm was in a cast, from what she remembered it had been used as a resting place by a rather large and heavy piece of ceiling so that wasn't really a surprise. Her ribcage was swathed in bandages as well, but once again that was to be expected. Besides that though she only appeared to have some superficial wounds although there were what appeared to be burns on the back of her arms.
She didn't feel any pain from them however so she presumed they looked worse then they really were. Like the medic had told her, she did indeed seem to have been very lucky. For a moment she remembered Mrs. Bedeau's flight, while she hadn't liked the woman there had been no need for her to die.
The subject of death however reminded her of Kirika. The Japanese girl had been at the center of the blast and judging by the way people had acted when she asked about her, she must have died. She frowned for a moment, why didn't she feel worse about that? When she had suspected it lying outside the burning building it had seemed to her as if her heart had been ripped out of her body, but now she felt a mere twinge of pain. It was also only then that she noticed the lack of pain in the rest of her body as well and realized she must have been dozed up with a painkiller. Probably morphine if she judged the effects correctly.
There was movement at the door and when it opened she noticed a young woman wearing a white coat standing in the doorway, obviously her doctor. Her attention however had been drawn towards the police officer seated at the entrance. That escape route was obviously out of the question for the moment as well. Maybe after she had healed enough to be able to take the officer out when she left would it be possible, but that would probably be too late.
"Good, you're awake." The doctor told her in a cheerful voice.
Not deigning to give an answer to such an obvious statement she settled for glaring at the woman.
"Okay," at least now some of that annoying false cheer had disappeared, "how are you feeling?"
Once again she had no intention of answering and she rather enjoyed seeing the doctor get flustered at her continuing glare.
"You don't want to talk, that's fine. It would be easier if you did, but I can try to do this without you saying anything. But I would like to know your name. From what Jacques told me you are called Mireille, but what is you surname?"
If there was one question she didn't want to answer it was that one. There was police outside her door, she was helpless and there was no doubt that the doctors must have noticed the scars on her body. Scars left by bullet wounds. Scars that very likely interested the police. Refusing to answer wouldn't help her in the long run, as her name was on the deed for the apartment, but it would buy her some time. Instead of simply ignoring the question however, she decided to ask one of her own. "How long?"
The doctor blinked at that, probably as confused at her continued refusal to answer as at the question. "You mean how long has it been?"
She simply nodded.
"The explosion took place yesterday, around 5 o'clock. It's now 3 in the afternoon. You were released from surgery only 2 hours ago."
Surgery, she must have been hurt worse then she thought, but that wasn't important right now. "Where is Kirika?"
"Who is Kirika?"
"My friend, she was in the apartment when…" She couldn't finish the thought, while the morphine in her body made sure she didn't feel as bad as before it still hurt to think about it. She desperately needed an answer though, the uncertainty was worse then whatever answer she could get and luckily the doctor seemed to understand this.
"I'm sorry, they have been looking for survivors throughout the night and you're the only one they have found so far." She looked sympathetically at Mireille. "And while they are still looking, it is unlikely they will find anyone else."
Mireille seemed to deflate; maybe she had been wrong about the uncertainty after all. When she hadn't had any confirmation about her partner's death she could still hold out some hope, but now even that small hope was gone. Tears started streaming down her face as she thought about the girl. In order to escape from the grief she immersed herself in memories of the young girl who had once so unexpectedly shown up in her life. Who she had sworn to kill, but when the time came to do so it had proven to be impossible for her to pull the trigger.
When she once again paid attention to the present she noticed the doctor had left. Using the sheet on her bed to wipe the wetness from her face she wondered for a moment how long she had been out of it. Not that it really mattered now anyway, it seemed as if Soldats had won after all. Half of Noir was dead, and unless she found a way to get out of here, the other half would be in some serious trouble with the police. Not that they could accuse her of anything, but modern forensics didn't need much to place someone at a crime scene.
A sound from outside the door suddenly caught her attention and, with her heart beating heavily, she looked at the entrance to her room. Unless she had been very mistaken, that had been the sound of a body falling of a chair. Mireille didn't believe in chance, someone had tried to kill her with a bomb and now her so-called protector was falling down. In her opinion that could only mean someone had come to finish the job. There was nothing in here that she could use as a weapon, strange how hospitals seemed to lack that kind of thing. Maybe there was something in the bathroom that might be useful, she just hoped her body was up to walking there.
It was too late however, as she made to move out of the bed the door opened and this time it revealed a man in a white coat. The silenced gun at his side however indicated that he wasn't a doctor. So now Noir would be dead entirely, she could just imagine those old men from the Manor celebrating that. But even that thought didn't manage to spike her anger, her crying about Kirika seemed to have expended all her emotions and she watched with a resigned look on her face as the assassin aimed his gun at her head and prepared to pull the trigger.
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Post-fic comments: Thanks for reading and reviewing. I know I said the rest of the chapters would be larger but unlike usually they aren't that long, at an average of about 3000 words. Sorry for that but I usually end a chapter when I think it's necessary not when I've written a certain amount of words. Anyway I hope you liked this chapter, despite what is probably an annoying cliffhanger. When I had written this I actually thought that maybe I should end the story here but then I wouldn't be able to post the sequels and I like them so you're lucky and I'll continue the story in two days.