Kirika watched Mireille, who was pointing her gun at Jean, that man that she had been seeing lately. Why would her friend be so angry with him when she didn't even know any of his reasons for starting that brawl. "Please, Mireille," she said, raising her voice above its usual whispered tone. "Just stop it. Love may be able to kill people, but hatred can never save them, so forgive and forget." Her voice faded as she spoke, until it was barely audible. Seeing those two fighting was so sad, and she knew that Mireille would be furious with herself afterward for killing Jean.

Turning around to face Kirika, Mireille scowled and pulled the trigger, hoping that the bullet would fly true. Jean ducked and came closer to her, his placid eyes begging forgiveness, begging for all of this chaos to end. Why couldn't they just make up and work things out again? Kirika grew somewhat frustrated as she sat there, watching Mireille stare him down icily, refusing to move an inch. "You had your chance not to do what you did, Jean," the blonde said fiercely, ignoring the lonely tear that streaked down her pale face. "You had a chance to redeem yourself by walking away from him instead of causing the same pain that you said would always haunt you. If you really meant that, then you would have felt some sympathy for all of the people who had to watch that vile display!" Jean backed down and drew his own gun, feeling the cold steel against his still wet hand, wishing that he could find a way to end this nightmare.

"I know that I hurt you, Mireille," he said apologetically, "but I wasn't the same person when I started to talk to Jacques, and he was the cause, not some innocent victim!" His face screamed for forgiveness, but he was still, knowing that the bullet awaited him if he moved too far.

"You know that I don't like people who make excuses for themselves," Mireille replied frigidly. "It only tells me that you're too weak to admit the truth." Kirika ran forward as her friend pulled the trigger and pushed the gun so that it missed its target and the bullet flew off into the ceiling. Jean looked at her deadly eyes and backed down, knowing that look all too well from his years as an assassin. It was the look of a hunter who had cornered its prey. Dashing instinctively through the open door, he went low to avoid getting shot as he sprinted down the hall.

Mireille followed with ease, since she knew those halls better than he did. Eventually, she found him and shot, grazing the side of his cheek. "Stop," he hissed, "don't you realize what you're doing, Mireille?" With a snarl, she stepped closer and closer, refusing to put down her weapon. Then she saw the pleading look on his face, the drawn look of his complexion, and the sunkenness of his dark, placid eyes. What had he gone through to return to her? Well, most likely he had broken out of prison and spent many restless nights thinking about her, wondering if she would forgive, and if the Ammoure family had gotten her yet. All of that to come back to her for forgiveness, and what had she given him so far? Nothing but pain. Pain and the relentless chase of a bloodthirsty killer. Dropping her weapon on the floor, she stepped forward and waited for Jean to respond.

He wrapped her in a firm embrace, letting her bury herself in his cold wetness, feeling her warmth against his chill. "You're so cold," she muttered, pressing a hand to his chest and feeling his heart beating slowly. "You've been out in the rain, haven't you?" Jean nodded and held her, welcoming a source of warmth. They stood there for a while, until Mireille found that she was wet all over, and colder than before. Kirika smiled as they all walked back to the apartment silently. Once there, they saw that the door was wide open, and somebody stood on the welcome mat.

"Mieuret!" a suave voice exclaimed as Antonio ran forward to greet his friend. "You are alright, non?" Jean smiled at his old friend, but all of a sudden, Mireille stepped up to Antonio, who was a full head taller than her.

"Why are you here?" she asked. "It's late, and somehow I doubt that you came simply to exchange pleasantries with Jean." Antonio nodded slowly and offered a hand out to Mireille.

"I sincerely apologize for what pressure I have put upon you, my beautiful Mireille. You see, my sister has had rather a change of heart, and I have decided that my death should be at your hands, if anyone's. All I wanted to do was apologize. I know that you killed my mother, but sometimes, forgiveness is all it takes." Mireille nodded, but was unsure what to do. If he was human enough to atone for his sins, then what reason did she have to kill him?

"Why do you wish for your own death? I thought that you were devoted to your sister's cause." Antonio smiled and sank back against the wall.

"I can't do it anymore," he said. "Livia's cause was admirable, but she went too far. What is this power worth, and what would she do with it? In the past time, ever since I met you, Mireille, I've been hospitalized for a sufficient time for profuse bleeding and done a jailbreak in the middle of the night."

Mireille nodded and dropped her hand to her side. If what he said was true, then she wouldn't kill him. He wanted to die so that the history of his family could be wiped clean, but he didn't realize that his cause wasn't worth it; it wasn't worth it for him to offer up his life like that. "Antonio," she whispered softly. "If what you say is true, I can't kill you for such reasons. Livia still wishes for me to come to her, correct?" Antonio nodded, his haggardness sinking in. His dark curls were unkept and his eyes had the same sunkenness to them as Jean's. "Then I will come to her, and end this ordeal. If luck still rests with Noir, then I will return alive. Antonio, I would have killed you if you had not mentioned your ordeals. I am afraid that you are far too honorable a man to be killed by a reluctant bullet."

"Livia is in hiding," Antonio said quietly, growing more and more tired by the hour. "I will take you there, Mireille, and all who wish to assist may come. My sister will not expect aid. So, when shall we depart?" Mireille looked and him and regretted her decision.

"What must be done must be done," she said. "We leave immediately. Kirika, you're coming along for the ride. Unless you're backing out on me?" Kirika shook her head quietly and shrugged. Both were still dressed and ready to go. Antonio smiled as he thought of the time when he would be graced with the freedom of death. Mireille now thought of him as honorable, not the lovesick fool who had tried to persuade her on the bridge. Who else would be left to mourn his death if his own sister ended up killing him? Now it was time for them to end the final act of this insane display of theatrics that Livia had contrived. Maybe he hadn't failed completely in winning Mireille over. Maybe she would choose to return to her former lifestyle through him.

"And yet we are both caught in a puzzling enigma, Mieuret," he whispered haggardly. He staggered from fatigue as he walked out to his car. Jean was coming too, of course. He had been deceived by Livia, and craved to see revenge exacted on her.

"What do you mean," Jean asked quietly.

"We have both been deceived by Livia, and both of us sought solace through the same person. You can have her, Mieuret, as long as we go, euh, sixty-forty?"

"Sounds good, mon ami," Jean said with a short laugh as they walked out to finish what had been started long ago.