Disclaimer: Again, still, I don't own the original Noir anime series – that gorgeous work belongs to Bee Train and various other special and talented people who should be given much praise. Mirelle, Kirika, and Chloe are only borrowed for happy fanfic amusement, though Andrea / Rose is my own creation. So no suing, I really couldn't afford it.
This random little ficlet came from the last month or so of working on my Noir doujinshi, Le Deux Retour, which shall be featured on my website along with Whisper Blade and Rites of Fantasy and a possible, currently-unnamed funny strip. Since I draw much slower than I write – and dear gawd, three manga makes for a LOT of drawings – I decided to blow off a little bit of steam with this gem until I can finish the work for the site and get back to finishing my regular stories. The piece is set in the doujinshi universe, which starts two years after the end of the original series. It's also fairly far along in the storyline, so there are a few 'slight' spoilers if you look close enough, (who am I kidding, there's a truckload of 'em) but oh well. Hope you all enjoy.
Note: As with the "What if?" universe stories, I spell Altena's name with an 'l' instead of the Japanese 'r,' and Mirelle's name without the second 'i.' These are personal choices, though perfectly valid story-/spelling-wise. Also, Andrea's alternate assassin personality is referred to as both Rose (her middle name) and Dark Rose, a 'code' name similar to Mirelle and Kirika's use of Noir. They are still the same person.
It should have been more frightening.
A tall, lithe shadow stood motionless on the small balcony of the well-appointed hotel room, gazing out over the slumbering city's sprawl with intent gray eyes. Impossibly high above, stars sparkled like diamonds in the vast darkness of the sky, leaving faint silvery highlights in the dark maroon shadows of longer, breeze-tossed hair. On the edge of the horizon, so far away, the barest hint of faint paleness smeared across the midnight blue, an indicator that the sun would rise soon. All around, the lightly shadowed air was gently scented with growing flowers and greenery. Her other three companions were sleeping – mostly peacefully – inside the hotel room, and the world was soft and serene in the pre-dawn quiet.
Well, mostly quiet. Nineteen-year-old Chloe felt one corner of her lips quirk in something that might almost have been a smile, gaze dropping to the railing of the terrace at the sound of a soft chirp. Long fingers lifted from their resting place on her folded arms, dropping to the smooth, pale stone in front of the small creature. She wasn't quite sure what the little bug was called. A cricket or some kind of katydid, to judge by the noise it made, but insects had never really been part of her required learning, let alone her forte. For all she knew, it could have been a grasshopper.
The small, six-legged bug climbed curiously up and across her light-skinned hand, and Chloe's gray eyes softened with a wry sort of amusement. It was rather ironically fitting, all things considered . . . another unknown creature, without a name or a past, settled briefly here in the night. Just like her. It was that thought, like so many others, that had driven her from her comfortable bed and much-needed sleep. That led her out onto the balcony, into the warm shadows, plagued by inescapable questions.
Who was she now?
After two years in a trauma-induced coma and the utter chaos of the last week, the question held more than the usual significance one might have put into it. The redhead shifted, each movement dry and laced with unvoiced sarcasm. It wasn't as though she had ever had any true idea who she was, not really. When almost everything she had been ever been told was a lie, there wasn't a clear answer anymore. Not to her identity, her life, not even her name.
Once, she had been Chloe Jasmine Phillips – it was the name she had been born with, the one she'd lived with for the first three years of her life, although her memories of that time were scattered and incomplete even now. By that name, she was the daughter of Andrew and Michelle Phillips, little sister of Cora and older twin of Andrea Rose. A child of Soldats, yes, but by parents disillusioned with the ways of the organization, who had already lost a son and fled to keep their remaining children safe from the dangerous dark. They had failed in the end, but they had tried their best.
Then she had been simply Chloe, one of the Saplings, half of Noir, raised and guided by Altena. That thought earned a faint snort of derisive laughter. Altena, the very woman her parents had so feared. The same woman who had ordered the massacre of the entire Phillips family to obtain Chloe and Andrea, silencing anyone who got in her way with a zealot's cold, utter precision. And the same woman who had spent Chloe's early years torturing her – mentally, physically and emotionally – to twist her young mind into the 'necessary' shape.
And of course, the same woman who had nearly killed Chloe, Mirelle and Kirika in her mad quest to re-create the Soldats of old. The fact that Altena had not lived to see the success of her plan, the redhead reflected morosely, didn't really seem to be much of a factor.
After all, Chloe was still left with a life that had shattered into a chaos of jagged fragments, pieces of what had been, what was and what could be – none of which had improved much once she regained consciousness a week ago. The little bug on her hand moved suddenly, as if sensing the dark directions her thoughts were taking, and Chloe watched it mince off her knuckles to settle once more on the railing. She sighed again and shook her head, flipping back an errant lock of thick red hair that fell across her nose. It was longer now, an inch or so past her shoulders, since the nursing staff hadn't seen fit to cut it. The length felt odd, but it made her look even more like Andrea.
Andrea – her sister's face filled her mind, so familiar and yet subtly different in the same breath. Slightly shorter than her older twin, Andrea was a bit less muscled, the faint delicacy enhanced by her wire-rimmed glasses and usual small, shy smile. True, her hair was a shade of crimson more vivid than Chloe's own, with a hint of curl not present in her twin's straight locks; her eyes, too, had a deep green to their hue, instead of Chloe's plain gray. But her face, the shape and structure of her features were all the same as Chloe's. It was like looking into some sort of strange, altered mirror.
Her thoughts flashed almost immediately on another sight of that same face, only hours ago, but as shockingly different as pitch-black night to a brilliant summer's day. The glasses gone, eyes like flat emeralds filled with utter shadow, staring back at her with a remote expression she'd only ever seen on Kirika's face before. Every muscle in that slender frame had been radiating lethal tension, barely-leashed violence contained by a hairs' breadth of control and purpose. The hand that gripped the automatic pistol hadn't even trembled, razor-sharp gaze focused and deadly, finger tightening on the trigger with murderous intent. Caught again in the hypnotic trap of blood-drenched darkness reflected back at her, Chloe had no doubts. If she hadn't interfered, Andrea would have killed Mirelle with a bullet to her heart, and she and Kirika would have battled to the death. Quite probably, both of them would have died.
No, not Andrea. Rose. It was Rose that tried to kill Mirelle. The redhead's eyes shuttered darkly. Rose was a split-personality, the alter-ego assassin embedded deep in Andrea's mind. Designed to take control when danger threatened, to protect her from any Soldat that might guess she was still alive or come looking, Rose was as silent and merciless as Andrea was sweet and caring. Able to speak almost a dozen languages, drilled in combat strategy and tactics, trained for most of her life in all forms of weaponed and hand-to-hand fighting . . . she was power incarnate, an almost supernaturally-skilled killer. In her own way, the Rose personality was as much a part of Noir as any of the other three Saplings. Chloe's throat tightened, unfocused gaze turned blindly toward the little bug still chirping near her fingertips. Altena had never managed to get her hands on Andrea, never knew she was still alive or touched her physically, but the maniac's insane plans had shaped the young woman's life as surely as they had Chloe's own.
"I think that's a cricket."
Startled from her thoughts, the teenager blinked and glanced over her shoulder, focusing on the tall, curvy form that had just stepped through the French doors. Mirelle Bouquet, daughter of Corsica – oldest of the Saplings at twenty, with long, wavy gold tresses and aristocratic features dominated by sapphire eyes. Dressed in an oversized button-down shirt and soft, pale blue pajama pants, her feet bare and blonde hair artfully tousled, she looked like she should have been in college somewhere, maybe working at a fashion boutique or sipping cappuccino in a cafe. Instead, she was a hired killer, an assassin who had been through some of the deadliest trials ever created and come through with life and limb intact. Who was now running for her life with the rest of them, and had been – as far as Chloe knew – asleep in one of the double beds, nestled comfortably beside Kirika.
Full lips were turned up in the ghost of a smile as Mirelle drifted over, resting her elbows on the railing a few feet away and looking thoughtfully out into the night. Chloe kept her gaze focused silently on the insect, mind wandering, unsure how to react to this new development. A part of her life – a large part, she was forced to admit – she had hated the blonde Corsican with a fiery passion, a loathing that was equal parts vicious jealousy and dark, fearful rage. The seeds of that, as well, could be laid at Altena's feet. Knowing Chloe's mind as she did, and the intense bond she had made with Kirika, the insane woman had been perfectly positioned to lay a groundwork of distrust and competition. A veiled musing that the daughter of Corsica might be better-suited for a particular mission, a faux-thoughtful hint that Chloe herself was lacking in some aspect, a praise of Kirika or Mirelle's talents designed to prick and ruffle Chloe's pride; then there were the serious reminders that, although Kirika and Chloe were specially chosen to become the true Noir, Mirelle was also a Sapling, and thus possibly just as worthy to be a maiden as either of the others.
And of course, once Kirika had vanished from the Manor and gone to live with Mirelle, the vague and unfocused dislike had become a much more deep and personal hatred. The blonde Corsican had been given the one thing Chloe had strived for, the one thing she had always been denied; the love of her fellow maiden, her other self, given freely and without reservation. It was, the redhead reflected, exactly as she had screamed at Kirika during their battle two years before. Seeing the two of them living together, sleeping and fighting and simply being, had torn her heart to shreds. And Altena was always there to prod, to poke and stab at the bleeding wounds, tearing away any 'scabs' to leave her soul fresh and raw. Oh, yes, Altena had known exactly what buttons to push, how to keep her insides seething with rage and violent pain.
But that wasn't Mirelle's fault, and Chloe knew that now. Had known it, truthfully, since her dazed and startled awakening, with the harsh truths of her own past cluttering her thoughts and shining a hard light on her unburied memories. Mirelle was not the enemy – she had been caught in the plans of Soldats and Altena, just as Kirika and Andrea and Chloe herself. Indeed, the blonde had been more than fairly decent, their respective jobs and positions considered. Since finding out who Chloe was, she hadn't really tried to kill the redhead, hardly fighting back even when her own life was threatened. She had only been trying to reclaim what was, in all honesty, rightfully hers.
And she had certainly given Kirika a better home than Altena and Chloe ever could have. Curled up together on a couch watching movies, laughing and sharing ice cream in the park, reading books in bed . . . the two of them did such solid, normal, affectionate things. Things that made Kirika's personality bloom like a flower in the sun. Even things Chloe would never have expected the Corsican to do, like baking and wandering through art stores. The beautiful blonde would give her life in a heartbeat for Kirika, that much was obvious, and Chloe knew Kirika would do the same. They belonged together.
Honestly, after watching the pair of them covertly for the last week, Chloe had discovered the blonde was more complex than she had ever imagined. Yes, she was still an unapologetic killer, with a sharp tongue and an even sharper mind, gifted with a penchant for wicked sarcasm and an utter love of cutting-edge fashion. And yes, she was still defensive, guarded, and had problem expressing any of her more vulnerable emotions. But she was also extremely intelligent, fiercely protective of Kirika, and even – Chloe ran through several words, searching for the right one – kind on occasion.
Pulled from her conflicting emotions as the little bug fired its back legs and leapt away into the night, the redhead noticed her new companion hadn't made any move to bother her or interrupt the quiet of her hasty sanctuary. Rather, the tall Corsican seemed to be content just waiting for her to feel comfortable. As though noting the attention of the unsure gray gaze, Mirelle turned slightly, still looking out over the railing. Her voice was soft. "Trouble sleeping?"
Chloe nodded once, hesitantly, a faint sound of agreement escaping her chest. She knew her feelings about Mirelle were confused, but she also had no idea how the Corsican assassin felt about her now. Two years ago, they hadn't exactly parted on the best of terms. Aside from the obvious fact that she had tried to kill Mirelle, she'd been raised by the very woman that ordered the murder of the blonde's family . . . had actually watched it take place, though she hadn't pulled the trigger. Not to mention that their entire 'relationship' had been based in jealous fighting over Kirika. Sudden fear touched the redhead's heart as her mind jumped to a new thought. Mirelle couldn't think – she couldn't think that Chloe still wanted –
"I don't – I'm not in love with Kirika anymore." Her low voice came out full of hesitation, almost afraid, and Chloe cursed herself for it even as her body tensed. She hadn't meant to say that, even though she knew they would probably have to have a serious talk at some point. Days of soul-searching – and a healthy dose of reality – had helped the redhead sort out most of her tangled feelings where Kirika was concerned, but it was still more than a little unsettling to start the conversation. And to say it like that, without any prompting – how was Mirelle going to take this complete bombshell?
A quick glance at the blonde, though, was almost as unsettling as the words themselves. The sapphire eyes turned toward her were soft, aristocratic features holding nothing but a gentle sort of warmth. She didn't look angry, or even surprised. Instead, her voice was quiet and calm. "I know."
What?!? "You – " Chloe jerked toward her companion, wide-eyed and utterly shocked. For a moment, she could hardly breathe; her palms were clammy, and it felt like her heart had actually stopped beating. How could Mirelle possibly know?
Mirelle flashed a small smile in her direction, the look on her elegant face almost shy. "I watched the way you reacted to her after we met up again." She said gently. "But I sort of had an idea before that. The whole thing started to make sense when we found out about Andrea."
Blinking once, then twice, the redhead realized her own expression was probably more than a little clueless. Strangely enough, Mirelle's warm gaze was oddly steadying, soothing Chloe's shaking insides as the Corsican explained. "We did a bit of research on twins, once we knew. Personalities, bonding . . . that kind of thing. It's not supposed to be as intense when the twins are fraternal like you two, but the connection's still really important."
Chloe wondered if she was dreaming. The two of them – Mirelle had cared enough to find out about her past? They had figured out what had taken her two years in a coma, life-threatening injuries and the return of her twin to understand? The memory of her realization washed over her all over again, a wave of only partially-mastered shame. Her whisper was disjointed, almost cracked. "I wanted her – she was my other half. The part of me that was missing, but better – " She choked. Calling Kirika better than Andrea? What kind of sister was she?
"She was better, because she wouldn't die." The blonde's voice echoed her emotions so closely a distant part of Chloe's brain wondered if the other young woman had developed some sort of mind-reading ability. A sharp glance to the side showed Mirelle was looking at her now, sapphire eyes direct but still understanding. "Kirika was a better other half, because you thought Andrea was dead." The Corsican's half-smirk was ironic, if slightly sad. "Kirika didn't die, she killed, and killed well. That meant she would stay with you, so she was more worthy to be Noir. To be a part of you."
Chloe nodded, mute with too many feelings to name. It was the truth, all of it – Kirika had been her substitute for Andrea in Altena's world, the family and partner and connection she had so craved, but so much better. Because Kirika would live where her twin had died, and their relationship could have a level that even twins could not. Her throat tightened with unvoiced questions. Did Kirika understand? Could Andrea ever understand? Did this make her a horrible person?
Stupid question. Her practical side interrupted calmly. A killer is a horrible person by definition. And you are certainly a killer.
"You were a little girl, Chloe." Soft, elegant fingers stroked across the back of her hand, pulling her from her self-castigation. How had the blonde gotten that close? There was still no anger, no insult or blame in those aristocratic features. Instead, the kindness she found in that direct blue gaze neatly undid her pain. "Altena," the tight name came with a deep trace of bitterness, "did her best to make weapons. For you, that meant giving you someone to attach to, and Kirika was there. It wasn't your fault."
None of it. The redhead could read the rest of the unspoken sentence reflected in Mirelle's face as clearly as the coming day. She wasn't talking about just Chloe's obsession with Kirika, though that was obviously a large part; she meant everything, from the death of the Bouquets to their many lethal fights. Mirelle was letting her know that she didn't blame her.
Chloe realized she should probably be saying something, agreeing – even moving – but she found herself utterly frozen, even her breath caught in her lungs. How could Mirelle do that? Put into words every broken fragment, every shattered feeling and dreaming hope she'd had for the past week? Her half-strangled voice came out sharp, the force behind the words almost an attack.
"How can you – how can you forgive me?" The redhead choked. Too much, it was just too much. "How – after everything, how can you just – "
Mirelle's gaze sparked with a bit of the saucy directness Chloe remembered so well, a half-smirk curving one corner of her mouth. "How can you forgive me?" She asked in return. "I took Kirika from you. It's my fault Altena is dead. I pretty much screwed up everything for you, too."
"But – no, that wasn't your fault." The protest came out without thought, the redhead's brows drawing together into a frown. "Altena went after you, she killed your family. She destroyed your life. She was insane, and she destroyed my life a long time ago. And Kirika belongs with you, where she's happy. It wasn't your fault."
Mirelle arched an eyebrow, standing silently, and like a shot of lightning, Chloe suddenly understood. It must have shown on her face, because the blonde smiled, nodding slightly. "If you can forgive me, Chloe, how can I not forgive you? There are parts of our past that neither of us is proud of, but – " Her mute shrug was eloquent. "It's part of who we are. So we take it, accept it, and move past it."
Something that felt like a heavy stone fell free of Chloe's chest, leaving her strangely light. Her gray gaze flicked up to meet Mirelle's, almost giddy, and she couldn't stop the low laugh that spilled from her throat. "When did you become so smart, daughter of Corsica?"
Mirelle's answering chuckle was amused and slightly rueful. "Kirika and I got to do this already." She admitted, the faint flush on her cheeks just barely visible in the still-deep moonlight. "It wasn't quite the same, but practice is practice." That brow arched again. "So was that all that dragged you out here?"
Something in the blonde's face suggested that she knew it wasn't, and after a moment's pause, Chloe shook her head. In for a penny, in for a pound, wasn't that the English phrase? Mirelle's sapphire gaze darkened a bit. "Andrea?"
Now Chloe nodded, just once. Mirelle sighed, resting her elbows once more on the railing, long tresses shimmering like quicksilver. "She's a good person, you know." The Corsican's voice was serious, thoughtful. "Bit of an American nerd, I guess, but she's got a good heart." Blue eyes tracked to the side, catching her companion's with a flash of smirk. "Reminds me of you, really."
"Because she tried to kill you, too?" The moment the words were out of her mouth, Chloe wished she could take them back. They'd just gotten past that, and here she was dredging it up again. To her surprise, Mirelle tossed her head back and laughed brightly. "It wasn't what I meant, but yeah, now that you mention it. Maybe it's a twin thing."
Chloe's lips twitched, and she couldn't help the smile that tugged at her for a moment. The expression vanished an instant later, though, replaced by an almost earnest look. "Andrea wouldn't try to kill you. She cares about you two, a lot."
The blonde assassin nodded slightly, still gazing out into the night. "Nora – tried to explain part of it." She was quiet for a moment, and Chloe knew her companion was remembering the older woman who had helped raise Andrea. Although Chloe had never met the former Soldat herself, she knew her fellow Saplings considered the woman someone worthy of respect. Her death – in Mirelle's arms, after inhuman torture by the same people now chasing them – had hurt the Noir pair quite a bit. "She didn't have much time, but she did tell us that Rose was meant to protect Andrea."
"From Soldats and Noir." Chloe repeated the words she'd heard a few hours before, when the New Soldats' henchmen had come gunning for her twin and the two maidens of death. The head bastard had known at least part of Dark Rose's programming, somehow; he'd used her trigger without a second's hesitation, sending the merciless killer after Mirelle and Kirika in lethal combat.
"Kirika!"
Kirika dove swiftly behind a nearby counter, heeding the sudden warning only a split-second before a barrage of gunfire ripped through the air to splinter wood and crack faux-marble. The slight, redheaded attacker stood only a few dozen feet away in the massive entry hall, 9mm Glock 26 held in her left hand, eyes like frozen emeralds focused on her target with burning intensity. Rose's face was distant, remote as a star, with just the barest hint of dark intent. Her aim was deadly accurate; only Kirika's own incredible reflexes kept her a single step ahead of the bullets. As it was, the Beretta went flying, several large ornamental statues raining down on her dark head in shattered chunks.
"Andrea, no!" A bright flash of thick gold heralded the interruption of the speaker as Mirelle threw herself at Andrea / Rose, fists and feet flying. It wasn't the most effective technique for the Corsican; watching from the ledge of the upper window she'd hoisted herself through minutes earlier, Chloe knew the blonde could have simply shot at her partner's attacker to draw her attention. Her own aim was certainly up to the task, had been even two years ago when Chloe had last seen her fight. But if she wanted to protect both of them – keep both Kirika and Andrea safe – presenting herself as an immediate threat was the most practical idea.
Even if it did put her in extreme danger.
The fact that the blond made her decision in a split-second, without any hesitation, showed Chloe more about her heart than a million words could ever convey. Slender, lithe bodies engaged in a swift and lethal dance, crimson and gold tresses snapping so fast they blended to a blur. A well-timed blow connecting to Rose's ear, and a follow-up roundhouse kick, seemed to indicate the Corsican was gaining the upper hand. But Mirelle wasn't fighting to kill or even cripple her opponent, Chloe could see that plainly. She was passing up easier, more debilitating combinations in favor of simple defensive moves. Oh, they were certainly bruising, potentially knockout blows, but nothing the deadly young woman she faced couldn't counter. Mirelle obviously didn't want to hurt Andrea.
Which was too bad, really, since Dark Rose obviously had no such problem with the beautiful blonde.
A series of sudden punishing attacks, capped off by a sharp snap-kick, sent Mirelle reeling back from the combat, desperately shaking her head to clear it. The straight, clean lines of dark gunmetal caught the light as Rose freed the Glock from the small of her back, raising it without hesitation. Kirika had no weapons – at least not normal ones – and she, like Mirelle, didn't want Andrea to die. The New Soldats men certainly weren't going to help. With the Corsican momentarily frozen, there was nothing to stop Rose from accomplishing one of her most primary orders . . . to destroy Noir, by putting a bullet straight through Mirelle's heart.
Nothing, save the familiar redheaded figure that had launched herself from the window ledge moments before and now darted forward, slamming into Mirelle's side with one shoulder to send them both staggering out of the way.
The bullet meant for the blonde sliced through Chloe's sleeve and seared across her upper shoulder instead, leaving a hot, bloody trail in its wake. Somehow keeping her feet, the former True Noir kept her position between Mirelle and Rose, leaning back against the taller Corsican's steadying frame more heavily than she would have liked. Trying to fight Dark Rose was ultimately out of the question; the scuffle with the guards at the front entrance and recent acrobatics aside, her body was still too weak from the coma to even come close to matching the deadly instincts and murderous skills of the assassin before her. Instead, she stood as straight as her aching muscles would allow, meeting those blood-dark eyes head on. Her voice was husky, slightly rough from disuse, but the words were utterly clear. "That's enough, Andrea. Stop."
Glinting emeralds focused on her over the barrel of the gun, and for a long, leaden heartbeat, Chloe wondered if she'd just killed them both. Somewhere to her left, she knew Kirika was retrieving her Beretta – at her back, Mirelle had gone absolutely still, while behind Rose, the New Soldats men were too stunned by her sudden appearance to move. None of that mattered. Her world had narrowed to that strangely familiar face, held in an aura of darkness incarnate that was just as familiar. Her features had the expression of the damned –
Then a slow blink, and the shadowed eyes flickered, just a hair uncertain, a hair unsure. Artistic brows drew together slightly in the ghost of a frown, gaze flashing briefly from Chloe's face to Mirelle's and back. Chloe could see that slender torso twitch, hear the even breathing across from her catch as she waited. It was no more than a slender thread, a glimmer of hope, but it was all they had. Could their hope overcome fifteen years, a lifetime of training and instinct?
Full lips moved in a harsh whisper, and Chloe had no problem deciphering the words. "Chloe – Mirelle – why?" There was a sharp note of pain flaring in that almost soundless voice, something raw and agonizing that didn't understand. "Kirika – Chloe – hurts – "
"Oh, fuck this." The head Soldats' mutter of disgust was explosive. Yanking out his own large gun, he leveled the heavy .45 at Chloe and Mirelle, his almost-cultured voice a sneer. His eyes fixed on Chloe. "I don't know who you are, girl, but you picked the wrong day to interfere. Time to say goodnight."
BLAM/BLAM/BLAM/BLAM.
The four shots that followed his words were so close together they sounded like a single firing. Chloe completed her turn, right arm extended, the extra Browning Hi-Power that had been holstered at Mirelle's hip still smoking in her hand. Time froze for just a moment, everything in the room hyper-clear as she registered another whirling snap of movement just in front of her. At her right, a pale-skinned arm stretched, the Corsican's aura roaring with barely contained rage and her signature Walther P-99 in hand. Farther away on the left, Kirika's eyes were narrowed and icily cold, her retrieved Beretta aimed directly at the head goon.
And Rose?
Chloe almost smiled. It was her sister's sudden spin that had caught the former True Noir's attention, a lightning-fast motion that ended with the younger twin's own Glock 26 pointed unflinchingly at the unfortunate New Soldat. Her face – reflected in the manor-house windows behind the thugs – was a death mask of intent, smoldering fury, those still-shadowed emerald eyes snapping as she glared at their opponent.
Their opponent, standing so confident and smug a moment before, who now had a straight line of four bullet holes stitched across the center of his forehead, so close their edges touched.
Time seemed to return to normal, and the suited henchman's body dropped like a stone. The goons spread out behind him gasped, shifting and giving stifled yelps of shock. On unspoken connection, Mirelle and Chloe shifted as well, sliding slightly farther apart until they could flank Rose, weapons still naked in their hands. Kirika's steps were noiseless as she joined them, her features hardening with the bloody darkness Chloe knew was falling over her own face. The blonde Corsican's dark, familiar smirk filled the redhead with a rush of welcome adrenaline, a snarking comment obviously waiting on those full lips. Yet the voice that spoke next was not hers.
"These – are – my – people." The words were rough, almost throaty, a melding of Andrea's alto in sharp anger and the deadly finality of Dark Rose's usual smooth tones. Chloe could hear a nearly sub-vocal growl beneath the words, a primal snarl like that of a threatening animal. "They – are – mine. No one hurts my people."
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Blinking to bring herself back to the present, Chloe sighed. The two dozen-odd goons left after the death of their leader hadn't lasted for long, facing off against the four lethal young women. All of them had been dead in little more than fifteen minutes. Getting out of the burning house had been a bit trickier – apparently, the rest of the cadre outside had decided arson was the better part of valor – but they had managed. Once the four of them were clear, Rose had 'vanished,' leaving only a confused and shaken Andrea to face the world again. Chloe closed her eyes. The horrified look on her younger twin's face when she'd seen what they'd done had been searing. "She doesn't deserve to go through this."
"And we all did?" Mirelle's reply was softly amused, and the redhead felt another light grin touch her lips as she turned back to her companion. The Corsican folded her arms across her chest, looking out at the now rosy-purple of the horizon. "She's your twin, Chloe. Maybe Altena didn't get her when you were children, but she's as much a part of this as you are. As we are."
"But we know what we are." Chloe objected. "We learned these things knowing what they were, we kill knowing we're taking a life. She kills because someone put orders in her head."
For a moment, Mirelle was quiet, looking thoughtful. "Before tonight, I might have agreed with you." She said finally, nodding. "But – you saw the way Rose recognized you."
"Us."
"Us." The blonde conceeded, a ghost of a smile on her lips. "When that idiot tried to threaten us, she didn't hesitate to drop him any more than you or I or Kirika did. She defended us, protected us because she wanted to. That wasn't about commands. It went against the one command he triggered."
Now it was Chloe's turn to nod, just slightly, and her companion continued. "She may not have known about her skills before now, but when it comes down to it, she and Rose are still the same person. After tonight – you heard her voice, Chloe. I don't think she's that much different than any of us."
"They merged." The redhead understood. The Dark Rose programming – intense and utterly lethal as it was – had been designed to stay separate, to let Andrea have a normal life while keeping her more than capable of defending herself from the Soldats or Noir that might come after her. After tonight, how much of that training was still locked away was definitely up for grabs. For all they knew, the two personalities were now one single person, albeit more high-school student than hired assassin.
"Yes." Turned around, Mirelle settled one hip against the railing and folded her arms, sapphire eyes sparkling with faint affection. The two of them stood quietly, the daughter of Corsica and former True Noir settled side-by-side in the warm soft darkness of the receding night. It was several minutes before Mirelle spoke again. "That isn't all that's bothering you, is it?"
Chloe said nothing, hesitating. It wasn't that she didn't agree with her fellow Sapling – it was more that she wasn't sure how to explain this final feeling that had overtaken her. Mirelle's smile was definitely amused. "Let me guess. It should be scarier than it feels, right?"
A slow blink, and the redhead stared at the taller young woman in shock. This time, the smile was very nearly a smirk, and Chloe again found her words spilling out without thought in the face of that familiar expression. "It should be terrifying. We're on the run from people we don't know, some organization that knows a hundred times more about us than we do – my coma, your uncle, Kirika's family, even Andrea's training. They're pulling us around like puppets, trying to either kill us or capture us – or maybe both – and they've already killed Nora and Koji and probably Derrick, not to mention dozens of others we don't know about yet. You two are foreign nationals and implicated in at least two of those murders, I'm supposed to be dead – Andrea's guardians are dead, and she can never go back to her adopted family. Who knows whether they can call up something else in her head to come after us again. There's probably no one we can trust, nobody we can go to for help. I should be terrified!"
"But you're not." Mirelle's voice was calm. Catching her breath, Chloe glanced up into her companion's face, and the blonde continued. "It's not nearly as scary as it should be. Is that about right?"
Surprise warred with other emotions in the redhead's face as she nodded again. The Corsican had been able to take care of the things that troubled her so far – could she really do it again? Mirelle tilted her head back, looking into the lightening sky. "It's not very strange, you know." Sapphire eyes reflected the fading silvery stars. "Things are pretty bad, I'll give you that, but you've got something now that makes it better."
"What?" Chloe raised an eyebrow, and Mirelle smiled.
"Them." One hand rose and pointed back through the French doors, into the quiet serenity of the hotel room. Chloe's mind immediately supplied an image of the bedroom as she'd last seen it, two nice-sized beds occupied by a pair of lean, familiar bodies. Kirika's dark hair would be adorably tousled, dressed in her usual tanktop and shorts, small frame curled up on her side beneath the blankets – probably holding Mirelle's pillow, since the Corsican wasn't there anymore. Andrea would be settled half on her stomach, dressed in an oversized green T-shirt and blue-green pajama pants, slender limbs utterly relaxed in sleep and one arm thrown out under her head and pillow. Warm gray eyes brightened in something very close to a smile. She'd thought she would take the couch in the main room the night before, letting Andrea have the second free bed since Kirika and Mirelle always bunked together; to her surprise, the younger redhead had matter-of-factly tugged her onto the mattress with a calm snort. "Oh, please. Like I need this big bed just for me, Chloe?"
Startled, her mind returned to the present, and she turned to look silently at her companion. Mirelle nodded, obviously reading the confused question on Chloe's face. "In there, you have two people who know more about you than almost anyone else in the world. And they love you for who you are." Her sapphire eyes caught Chloe's and held them. "It's a precious thing." Her smile widened just slightly. "My mother used to say that people like that were the rarest treasure. Someone that you love, that you'd die to protect and you enjoy spending time with. And you have two of them. When you have people that you care about, nothing's as scary as it could be alone."
This simple answer – like the one produced by Mirelle's earlier silence – struck the redhead as brightly as a bolt of lightning. Whatever they were facing, no matter how frightening or uncertain, they were facing it together. She was no longer alone. She had people who would defend her, take care of her and watch her back. Unlike Altena, they didn't want her as a means to an end. Andrea and Kirika cared about her as a person, a sibling and a partner and a true friend all at once.
While they were talking, dawn had arrived, the rising sun lending a soft pink, orange and yellow to the sky as the stars faded out. The crickets had trailed off, and the gentle quiet of the balcony was warm and comforting. Chloe listened absently to the trilling song of an early-waking bird somewhere in the trees, feeling a fizzing lightness flowing all the way to her fingertips. As odd as it might have been, she knew Mirelle's answer was right.
And from the faintly ironic quirk of the Corsican's smile, the light warmth in her eyes, it wasn't only Andrea and Kirika who cared, either.
"Mireyu? Chloe?" Kirika's soft call broke the quiet, distinctive with the faint Japanese accent that still marked her partner's name after two full years. Chloe had decided earlier that it was a nickname of sorts – and found, to her own happy surprise, that "Clo-ay" was still Kirika's name for her. Only she, Mirelle and Andrea – or "Ahn-dray-ah" – seemed to rate that honor. "Are you two alright? What're you doing out there?"
Mirelle smiled. "We're fine, Kirika." Long, wavy tresses glowed like molten gold in the light of the sunrise as she leaned back and stretched. "Just talking." Her gaze danced cheerfully to Chloe, though her answer was still for her partner. "Did you sleep well?"
Through the now-open French doors, Chloe saw a familiar dark head bob, brushing tousled locks aside with that soft agreeing noise that was all Kirika's own. Andrea stood a few feet away, long crimson curls braided back so only a few wisps escaped, the room's phone held loosely in one hand. Gray-green eyes were bright behind her glasses. "I ordered room service." She flashed that small, shy smile. "Anybody up for eggs and bacon? There'll be sausage and fruit, too."
"Croissants?" Mirelle asked, sounding almost hopeful. Her face brightened as Andrea nodded. "Great. Let's get some of this stuff cleared off so we can eat."
Chloe stood silent, watching the odd but home-like scene with a faint lump in her throat. Kirika and Andrea both nodded, busying themselves with the debris of medical supplies, files and clothes scattered lightly across the main room. Considering their exhaustion – mentally, physically, and emotionally – the night before, the four of them had only taken care of the most basic first aid before crawling into bed. It wasn't a major mess, but it would probably raise a certain amount of curiosity if they left it for the server to see.
Mirelle moved toward the doors, and Chloe stepped forward, long fingers hovering hesitantly over a pale forearm. "Mirelle, wait."
The blonde paused and glanced over, raising an eyebrow in silent question. Chloe swallowed hard, gathering her courage. "You were wrong."
"About the croissants?" Mirelle asked, almost archly. Sapphire eyes danced with amusement, and the redhead tried hard not to smile back. The Corsican needed to know she meant business; she didn't want her fellow Sapling to think she was making a joke, after all. Not for this.
"About the people I care about, the people I'd risk my life to protect." Chloe drew herself up straight, gray gaze sober and utterly serious. "You said I have two treasures. You were wrong."
Mirelle stayed quiet, but the expression on her face invited the former True Noir to continue. Taking a deep breath, Chloe steadied herself. Still, her voice came out softer, slightly less sure than she would have liked. "I'd like to think I have three treasures. There are three important people in my life."
For a moment, there was nothing but awful silence, and Chloe felt her chest squeezing painfully. Then the blonde's face softened, affection clear across aristocratic features, and her bright, true smile warmed Chloe more than the sun ever could. Her free hand lifted, squeezing the redhead's fingers gently. "You do." Mirelle agreed, just as seriously. "You always will."
Then her smile was once again that saucy smirk, and the Corsican ruffled Chloe's bangs cheerfully. "Come on. We've got food coming, and I'm hungry."
Chloe nodded, almost lighter than air, following her companion into the room. "And what will we do after we eat?" She asked. Kirika and Andrea both glanced up, varying degrees of curiosity on their faces. Mirelle glanced back, folding her arms, and sapphire eyes glowed with bloody darkness. "We find out who these bastards are, and what they want."
"And then?" Andrea's voice came only an instant before her twin's. Looking at her, Chloe couldn't see any fear or shock; only a variation of the same slow grin that was creeping over the former True Noir's own face. And Kirika's, the redhead noted. Seemed like it was contagious.
Mirelle's full lips turned up in her own version of that same grin. "Then? We go after them, and bring them all down. That's what Noir does, after all."
Chloe's smile widened, gazing at the three faces before her. The four surviving Saplings, all blessed by the High Priest of Soldats, warriors and equals honed in the fires of hell itself. The true embodiment of death, the true Heart of Darkness. They were all different, their lives entwined by the plans of a madwoman and the cruel, callous whims of circumstance – and yet, they were here now, together, exactly where they needed to be. It was Kirika who said it, molten-copper eyes bright and knowing. And somehow, the familiar words were exactly right. "Noir – c'est le nom d'un destin antique. Quatre demoiselles qui régissent la mort. La paix nouvellement du soutenu, leurs mains noires se protègent."
Noir – it is the name of an ancient fate. Four maidens who govern death. The peace of the newly-born, their black hands protect.
Yeah, I know, kind of an odd thing to do, but I love this version of Chloe, and after working on the doujin for more than a month, I had to do something to get the plot out of my head so I can stop tearing my hair out. (snicker) Forgive the long flashback, and I shall post more fun soon. Like the new chapters of Darkness.