Chapter up! Umm, no comments really. But if you are reading this "anonymous…for now" will you please explain to me what you meant in your review to When a job goes very wrong. Your wording confused me. I mean, what does; "Teenage-fangirl-squee" mean? And canon quiet? Huh? I had my friend look at it and he couldn't work it out either. Speak English! Anyway onto the story.

-Lain of Avalon is now my beta-reader! YAY! Thanks to her for testing this in advance.

Chapter 12. Assassin's Bible; An Assassin needs pride. An Assassin shall not be seen doing everyday tasks, for that would make him too human. Assassin's should be higher beings.

Kirika sighed as she leaned against a wall, momentarily letting her three large, heavy shopping bags rest on the ground at her feet. Mireille was currently looking into a small shop window. Leaning towards the glass, her hand on her chin as she inspected the handbags arranged inside. Kirika was glad for the break.

She had not slept well. Simply that. Crying late into the night she had then simply laid there silently when her tears ran out. Staring at the wall. She knew she must have fallen asleep sometime, her body craving the rest enough to push her under. But she had no idea how long she had slept. The only thing she knew, as the light had reached her bloodshot eyes, was that it hadn't been enough.

"Kirika," the voice had called out, instantly gaining her attention. It was soft and lilting, the voice of her partner. Kirika knew it better than her own. "Kirika are you awake?" She considered not answering, to play asleep and let Mireille feel the disappointment. But she knew that the worldly assassin would be able to tell from her breathing if she were awake. Failure to answer could result in her partner feeling hurt. Or at the least, a ruder awakening. Kirika wanted to avoid both.

Instead of answering Kirika pulled herself into a sitting position, using her hand to shade her eyes from the curtains which Mireille had opened. The Corsican was dressed in the clothes she had acquired the previous day. A set of faded denim jeans and a pristine white shirt. In the reflected sunlight of the morning she looked radiant.

"Rise and shine Kirika, time to be up!" She laughed, her manner showing that what had happened last night meant nothing to her. Perhaps it was just that to Mireille... How could she understand how much Kirika needed her? How empty she was without her? Why did Kirika think that Mireille cared at all? Kirika looked up and met the blonde's eyes, catching the slight widening of the blue orbs as she looked into Kirika's bloodstained eyes. Other than that brief response Mireille acted as if everything was normal.

"We're going shopping today! You and I need some new clothes!" Kirika didn't answer, just watching Mireille as she moved around the small room. Blatantly ignoring the torn sheets on the floor. "Do you... want to come?" The last was uttered quietly, as if Mireille was afraid she would refuse. As if she really expected the rejection...

"Give me a few minutes to get ready." Kirika whispered back looking at the unopened clothes, still in the shopping bag beside her bed. The ones Mireille had acquired the day before. Inside, her mind was awhirl. Why had she accepted? Part of her, a large part of her was screaming for her to say no. To let Mireille know what had happened last night between them "did" matter. That it "was" something, and that Kirika was still deeply hurt by it. But the fear in Mireille's voice, that and the longing for peace in Kirika's heart, that had decided her. Before even her mind could suggest an alternate route.

"Alright!" Mireille replied happily, her voice containing an underlying happiness and relief. Perhaps, Kirika conceded, as Mireille fairly flew from the room. Just perhaps Mireille did care... Perhaps it the small quiet girl named Kirika did mean something to her... Perhaps...

That was the chain of events that had led them to where they were now. Shopping in the centre of Münster for anything and everything. At least that was what it seemed like to Kirika.

Kirika was practical. She knew that. To her all that was necessary was to buy some clothes to last them, and perhaps if they could find such a place, some ammunition. For they had lost theirs in the ambush. However her partner was anything but practical. A shopper to the core, the perfect epitaph of the female youth in France. Kirika envied her that. The ability to be so normal without even trying.

Why wasn't she herself excited? She was a girl, she was young. So why did this which seemed to excite so many others, leave her feeling bored and tired? Perhaps because I'm carrying everything, her mind suggested, as her eyes fell to the heavy bags below her. That could be a factor. Mireille didn't seem to realise, Kirika knew it was nothing intentional. But it seemed that somehow, without either of them knowing how, Kirika would end up carrying the bags. It didn't bother her, but it was a hassle.

Sure she was strong, able to defeat most enemies in any tests of strength. But no one had ever told her how hard lugging shopping bags around for two hours could be. When she got back to France she might do this for the exercise.

"Shall we go in here?" Mireille asked, favouring her with a smile. Kirika looked back through the window. It sold handbags. Just handbags. She raised an eyebrow. Mireille laughed, "You need a handbag." She commented lightly, Kirika froze. Images of herself being forced to carry around a pink clunky handbag with the "essentials" in it. Essentials consisting of make up, lipstick and such. She felt like throwing up at the image she saw. From world class assassin, to... to...

"Uhm-uhm." She commented emphatically, shaking her head quickly to both answer Mireille and to shake the frightening image away. Mireille chuckled, obviously thinking the same thing.

"Ahh, but you'd look so cute." She whined. Kirika continued to shake her head. Willing herself to resist the urge to concede to Mireille's request. Normally she was willing to do anything to keep her partner happy. But not this. "Fine. Let's try further up." The blonde gave in, making Kirika sigh in relief as she stooped to gather up the bags again. So far they had bought some trousers for Kirika, and a top for Mireille. Each one had been tried on, and often after many others had been discarded. Much to the shop helper's and Kirika's dismay.

They continued on for a while, not having any kind of plan. Kirika just followed Mireille, who seemed to wander aimlessly down the street until something caught her eye. At which point they would pause whilst she stared through the window. If she saw something that interested her they would enter. If not, they would carry on. By the time they reached the end of the street, Mireille took them into the last shop and had Kirika sit down.

Kirika flopped down onto the padded cushions, letting the twelve bags crash to the floor around her. Her breathing was ragged and she was hot and sweaty. God. How.. do.. they... do this? She asked herself, wiping an arm across her forehead. Mireille was rooting through clothes hanging from pegs from the walls. Almost seeming to pick out every other one and drape it over her arm. A shop assistant noticed her then looked at Kirika, her eyes settling on the mass of bags. Her eyes lit up. Kirika sighed. Oh great, the hunter has spotted her prey. She knew what would happen now, it had happened before.

This assistant could see that Mireille had money and would now aid her in buying almost everything. And if Kirika's guess was right,... and from the clothes that were being picked she thought she was, these were for her. She sighed, she knew what that meant. She would soon be made to try everything on for Mireille's satisfaction. Made to pose in so many different sets that she would soon lose the use of her legs to the fatigue.

She hated this part. But to refuse?... To refuse would be to bring forth Mireille's pleading look, her disappointed eyes and her hurt feelings. She would not refuse, she never did. Not since she had first done so, and seen the look of spoiled fun on her partner's face. The look that said her whole day had been ruined by Kirika's behaviour, cold looks would follow soon after. And today Kirika was on best behaviour.

"Kiiirikaaaa..." Mireille crooned evilly, dragging the vowels of her name out. Kirika turned to look at Mireille who was standing behind her, shop assistant in tow. Between them they must have been carrying thirty outfits. Ranging from trousers and jackets, which would obviously be work clothes. To dresses and pyjamas, the former being something Kirika would desperately try to weasel out of ever having to wear.

"Mireille..." She sighed, a hint of pleading in her voice. This however only seemed to send the Corsican into fits of giggles, as she ushered Kirika towards the changing rooms.

Mireille sat on her seat, sipping on some tea that the assistant had kindly made her, waiting impatiently for Kirika to change into another set of clothes. She was surprised to see how much Kirika had been complying with her requests today. Perhaps it was some attempt to apologise for last night. It was just like Kirika to think it was her fault, despite the truth of the matter. Mireille had been alarmed at Kirika's state this morning. Her hair had been wild and her eyes bloodshot, the quilts from the bed were strewn everywhere, as if the girl hadn't been able to find a comfortable position all night.

She knew it was her fault. And this trip, and the spoiling of Kirika was her own way of apologising. Though she was aware that it wasn't a way which Kirika would have wanted her to apologise in. Even though Mireille knew she was in the wrong. She wasn't adverse to taking advantage of Kirika's compliance. Not when Kirika looked so cute!

The curtain drew back and the girl walked out, sighing as she did so. Mireille couldn't help but clap her hands together in glee at the sight before her. Kirika was wearing what would have to be her new pyjamas. After seeing them on her, Mireille was defenitely adding them to the pile of goods that had passed the test. The pyjamas were a light pink, riddled with fluffy teddy bears in different poses. They were a little big, but the bulges and folds only made Kirika look all the cuter. Her partner's face was bland, as it always was, but Mireille could tell the girl was embarrassed. The little signs that only Mireille could make out. Lucky for her that the changing area was deserted.

"Do a pose for me." Mireille exclaimed twirling her finger around. Kirika didn't move, instead her eyes just narrowed. Obviously there were some things that she was just not willing to do. Mireille giggled again. "Alright they're good! Next set!" Kirika sighed, her shoulders drooping in a defeated manner as she trudged back and drew the curtain. A few moments later and the pyjamas were pushed underneath for Mireille to add to the pile. Thank god their job paid so much. Mireille really wondered how they would ever survive when they became too old for this.

She had never thought of it before. Always so sure that she would never reach such an age. Becoming a casualty long before that. However with Kirika beside her she found that she wanted to live longer. To stay with her for as long as possible. After all, if there was a heaven it was certain that they would not go to it. So they had to enjoy the time they had together now. Especially when that time could be cut short at any moment.

So I guess that applies to shopping too. Why save all our money when we could die anytime? That dilemma solved Mireille could now go back to her hobby without any reservations. It was not like she would have stopped, had she found that it was a bad idea anyway. She enjoyed it far too much. She checked her watch. Five minutes to two. They would have to meet with the Soldats soon. They would have to make this the last set. She hoped it was the dress.

When Kirika came out it was instead dressed in some normal clothes. Some long beige trousers and a dark green shirt top. Mireille pouted realising that Kirika had always intended not to wear the dress if she could help it.

"Alright. That'll do." She told the girl as she stood before Mireille for inspection. "We have to meet some people soon, so we'll have to call it a day." Kirika sighed in what Mireille thought sounded suspiciously like extreme relief. She smiled. "Add the peach dress to the pile as well, we can try that on you later." Kirika's eyes widened as she stood ram rod still. Mireille's smile grew in victory. "You can keep those clothes on. Let's go."

Ten minutes later and they had paid for the goods. Mireille had started to walk off again when she heard her name being called behind her.

"Mireille!" The voice was Kirika's and the tone exasperated. Mireille turned. She had to fight the urge to laugh at the sight behind her. There was Kirika, now with perhaps sixteen bags. Eight clutched in each hand, they fanned out around her, practically knocking down people they passed.

"--Sorry..." Mireille choked out between laughs, as she hastened back to he partner to relieve her before she fell. The girl's face was red and glistening with sweat. "Why didn't you say anything?" There was only a mumble for an answer. "Come on then." Mireille ordered as they walked on again, this time Mireille carrying her share of the shopping. She had planed this, so it was a very short walk to the café.

"Mireille who are we meeting?" Kirika asked, her breathing having returned to a more normal level.

"Soldats." She replied, smiling when Kirika's face twisted with dislike, so mirroring her own feelings. "At two o'clock." Kirika gasped.

"But that was fifteen minutes ago-... oh, I see." She replied with a small chuckle. However when they reached the parlour they saw him there. Idly sipping tea and leafing through a newspaper. He noticed them and smiled, seemingly unconcerned with their less than punctual arrival. Short white hair, blue eyes and a face that looked as if it had been chiselled from rock, Remi Breffort awaited them.

"Ahh, Noir has arrived." He exclaimed, giving Mireille a smile. He never seemed to speak to, or even acknowledge Kirika. Something that Mireille disliked him for. Among many other things. Like the fact he was Soldats, the fact he was a manipulative bastard. The fact he wove schemes as others wove dreams. Despite his easy manner, she couldn't help but dislike him.

"You wanted to see us, get to the point." Mireille ordered, not sitting down. He eyed her and then the bags they were both holding.

"You requested that I bring a car, and now I see why. I suppose I am to explain the situation to you as we drive you home?" Mireille nodded, disappointed that she was so easy to read. "Well let us be off then." He added, leaving some money on the table and directing them to a large black Mercedes. Mireille and Kirika followed behind him, slowed somewhat by his pace, the man having to use an elaborate cane every step of the way. A few minutes later and they were sitting in the back, on the plush seats of the cars spacious interior. They were offered no drinks, Mireille suspected it was a silent reprimand of their tardiness.

"The journey will not take long, so I will explain the situation to you without disruption." Mireille nodded showing she understood. Kirika made to nod but Breffort began without even noticing her. Mireille ground her teeth in anger.

"The Soldats are in a dire state. There is currently a rebellion. A civil war you might say among the Soldats. There are two main factions. My own faction, which represents the late council members who were assassinated. And the faction of Carlos. A newcomer to the Soldats, but one who has already managed to endear himself to many." Mireille smiled at the seething the in Breffort's voice, it was obvious that this Carlos had done something more personal to Breffort too.

"Soon after the assassination Carlos revealed his intentions to become the new head of the Soldats. Many opposed him, they all mysteriously died. As such many Soldats now stand on the sidelines, ready to throw their lot in with whoever looks to be winning. The Soldats needs unification. Not this persistent anarchy." Mireille failed to see why Breffort thought they would care, after all this was a dream come true for Mireille.

"This affects you, because Carlos wishes Noir for himself. As his personal soldiers or bodyguards. Though when he sees you Mireille, he may desire more..." Manipulative bastard, it could be true, it might not be. But with those words, Mireille already knew she couldn't take the risk. "Also he has allied himself with a very powerful faction. A nazi faction known as Millennium. Through our research we understand that you are currently working for Hellsing? And as such helping me would be in your own interests." He stopped, waving for her to speak.

"What do you offer us?" She demanded, getting down to business. She didn't want to dance to his tune, but as always he had something they wanted. No, needed.

"Information and aid. For agreeing I can supply you with ammunition and arms. For each success you grant us I will give you information. For the death of Carlos, I will give you direct contact with our informant in Millennium. Do we have a deal?" Mireille saw that they had arrived back at the flat they shared with the Wild Goose and his men.

"Fine. But if you play us then we won't hesitate to wipe you from the face of this country. And your precious Soldats too." Breffort smiled, oblivious to her threats.

"I understand completely Noir. The arms shall be delivered tomorrow. I'm glad Patrick could arrange this meeting for us." Mireille paused in her climb out. Kirika had already exited the other side.

"Patrick?" She asked confused.

"The man I sent to you yesterday. Short elderly man with white hair?" Mireille smiled past the sick feeling in her stomach.

"Oh him. Yeah, I forgot about him. Yeah sure..." She trailed off as she climbed out, dragging her bags with her. She turned to Kirika, a false smile on her face.

"Come on Kirika. We've got a job to do tonight. Let's have a nap." Kirika nodded, her face bland. She didn't seem to have noticed Mireille's forced smile. "I'll stay with you." She added with a smile. One which grew as the corners of Kirika's mouth turned up in joy.

They walked inside, carrying their conquests for the day as they headed for their afternoon sleep. Mireille constantly wondering about a tall dark haired Soldat named Blake.

Well, chappy ends there. Not sure about it, but then again I rarely am. So I'll leave it as such. REVIEW!