Henrietta cradled Giuseppe in her arms. She wept.
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Life Goes On
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Disclaimer
Gunslinger Girl and Noir are not mine.
Lieselle, Altheus, Childville, Kathryn, and Meir are owned by Nachtsider. Certain story elements were also derived from his various works. They are featured and used with his permission.
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Chronology
The revised story takes place after Volume 6 of the Gunslinger Girl manga and years after the ending of Noir.
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Rewritte
4/24/14
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Soldat #75664: Well, it's going to be far more of a Gunslinger Girl story than it is a Noir one. But give me a couple of chapters. Since your enthusiasm has inspired me such, Mireille is going to get a bigger role earlier. Shall we see what it is?
To the rest of my reviewers, foremost of all Nachtsider: Glad you liked it. Thank you very much!
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Chapter 2
Morte
(Death)
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Wind and sunshine washed across Henrietta's face. Her auburn hair defied the grip of her black headband by whipping about wildly. She beamed at Giuseppe, who returned her smile.
Her reward for acing the mission was a tour of the Palermo countryside. The weather being mild, Giuseppe rolled down the cover of his Ferrari convertible.
Henrietta wasn't interested in the scenery. But the ride let her spend time alone with Giuseppe, who knew enough about Palermo to keep them from getting lost.
A road sign warned about the all-too-obvious blind corner ahead. Giuseppe obediently slowed down.
The truck that barreled out of the blind corner did not slow, couldn't slow down. The metal leviathan rapidly filled their windshield and vision.
Time slowed down as Henrietta's conditioning kicked in. She could see the fear in the truck driver's wide-open eyes, saw him hastily working brake and steering in a desperate effort to evade the Ferrari.
His actions were for naught. So was the Sig pistol tucked into Henrietta's waistband. Girl and gun were powerless, mere passengers for the hellish ride.
And the world wrenched violently as Giuseppe threw his Ferrari into a hard right turn, physically interposing his side of the car– and himself– between the incoming truck and his precious ward.
Despite her seat belt, Henrietta was still hurled into the passenger door. Her small, sharp cry of surprise was drowned out by a sudden hissing sound. Then everything went white.
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It was the passenger safety airbag. The emergency inflatable pinned Henrietta in place, its soft-skinned mass resisting her clumsy efforts to shoved it back into the dashboard.
In the middle of her impromptu wrestling match, she recalled the Sig pistol at her waist. A single shot deflated the pretentious airbag. Her next shot did the same for the airbag of the driver's side.
Seeing the state of her handler, Henrietta went cold.
"Giuseppe!"
The flimsy frame of the Ferrari posed no resistance to the hideous strength of a frightened cyborg. Henrietta bore Giuseppe out of the metal deathtrap as gently as possible.
"Never move a severely injured person unless there is no other choice. if you must do so, be extremely careful with the victim."
It had been Giuseppe who gave that lecture on first aid. Now he was the victim and Henrietta was desperately drawing on everything she could remember from the lesson.
She laid him upon the nearest soft patch of grassy ground. She took off her vest, folded the garment, and used it as a pillow for his head. Her handkerchief quickly grew sopping wet with the blood she wiped from from his face.
"Giuseppe…"
Henrietta didn't know what else she could do. She killed for a living. Any life she may have saved in the bargain was a by-product of terminating the threat. Now her handler was dying and there was nothing she could do.
She was useless.
An electronic beep broke her silent dirge. She tracked the sound to the right pocket of Giuseppe's pants. It turned out to be his cell phone.
Henrietta began mashing buttons. Luck of the draw; Hilshire's number came up. A few seconds later, she was breathlessly relaying her crisis to the astonished senior Fratello.
"Hang on there, Henrietta," Hilshire reassured her. "We're coming. We're coming as fast as we can."
She didn't hear his instruction. They weren't part of her world. The bloody man who lay still before her was. More so, he was her world. And he was dying, her world was ending...
Henrietta cradled Giuseppe in her arms. She wept.
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The ambulance arrived. Hilshire's car preceded the paramedics. Normally a careful driver, the German had kept the pedal pressed to the metal floor.
For her, they had taken the whole of eternity. For her, they were still as remote and alien as the moon– if not nonexistent.
White-suited paramedics rushed forward most professionally. Hilshire, Triela and Claes –the last riding with Hilshire due her lack of a partner and at her own request– beat them to Henrietta's side.
The brunette girl was like a statue. Triela's concerned queries were met with silence. Henrietta didn't glance at her fellow cyborgs or at Hilshire. All she did was hold Giuseppe and stare at his blood-streaked face while sniffling.
Triela was worried. Henrietta had told her and Claes about the truth behind Elsa's death during one of their afternoon tea sessions. Though Triela had laughed off the possibility of that happening to herself -complete with citing her ongoing 'war' with Hilshire as proof-, she wasn't a fool. She understood the potential for disaster when a cyborg underwent extreme emotional stress, knew that among their group Henrietta was the most vulnerable to such pressure.
Henrietta finally reacted when the medics laid their hands on Giuseppe. Dull brown orbs began to lazily follow their movements as though measuring a threat. Hilshire's discreet signal wasn't needed. Triela and Claes began watching Henrietta for any sign of dangerous behavior.
Nothing happened at first. The distraught girl pathetically held onto her handler even as he was strapped onto a stretcher and carried to the ambulance, looking like any normal little girl would in a situation like this.
The peace was short-lived. When a medic gently but firmly pushed her away in order to load Giuseppe into the ambulance, it was like the declaration of war she had expected and courted with pretended listlessness.
Henrietta went berserk. She brought down two medics before Triela and Claes managed to restrain her. Thankfully the men she attacked had only been badly bruised, if scared out of their wits.
Hilshire knew that the mechanical body was capable of amazing feats. But Henrietta appeared to have grown twice as strong as the specs allowed. She fought madly to break free, punching and kicking and biting, and very nearly threw Triela and Claes off her. Making it even more difficult was her distraught weeping and pleas to accompany Giuseppe.
Triela hated being harsh with people she cared for. But she kept Henrietta under wraps for the latter girl's sake. Claes silently assisted all the way, ignoring the wayward fist that clipped her brow, a blow that knocked her precious glasses off her nose.
Henrietta finally stopped struggling and settled for simply weeping. Triela released her and motioned for Claes to do the same. The dark-haired girl complied but remained wary. But all their your friend did was to cry. While Claes recovered her fallen glasses, Triela hugged Henrietta tight, allowing herself to cry as well, sharing in her friend's misery.
"It'll be all right, Henrietta," Triela promised. "It'll be all right."
Hilshire managed to persuade the lead paramedic to let Henrietta ride the ambulance with Giuseppe. Claes rode along to ensure issue.
Though her reluctant fellow passengers eyed her every now and then out of suspicion, she paid them no heed. She had eyes only for Giuseppe. She didn't release his warm, limp hand for the entire trip.
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Jean and Rico found their downcast colleagues seated outside the emergency room.
Triela and Claes had been braced for another impromptu wrestling session once they reached the hospital. But Henrietta didn't rage. She didn't follow the doctors wheeling Giuseppe into the operating room. Instead she just slumped into an uncomfortable plastic chair facing the double doors beneath the lighted sign and stared.
The fight had taken something from her. Left her burned out. A husk. As if she was the injured party, a victim herself.
Jean ignored her. "Hilshire," he ordered the German handler. "Take the cyborgs back to the safe house. I will watch over Giuseppe."
"Understood."
Amplified hearing allowed the cyborgs to pick up what Jean murmured under his breath.
"Family should be the one to handle this."
She wanted to protest. She wanted to stay. Giuseppe was her Fratello. Her brother, her world, her everything. All that mattered to her. The only thing that mattered to her.
Didn't that make her family, too?
And she was losing him now.
But all the resistance she could muster was a bowed head and a quavering sigh that came from her very soul. Even Triela's rueful attempt at cheering her up fell flat on its figurative face.
Reluctantly, Henrietta turned her back on the man who was her world.
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Dr. Bianchi had pronounced Henrietta perfect health and condition, with not even a scratch to account for. But of course she was uninjured. She was beyond little things like injury and pain and maybe even death. It was Giuseppe who was human.
It was Giuseppe who was dying.
Triela accompanied her back to her room. They passed Priscilla and Marco, ignored the adults' well-meant concern.
But Priscilla would not be stilled. "Marco?" she spoke up. "Do you remember when you first taught Angie how to fire a gun?"
Henrietta didn't slow or spare them a look, even as Marco nodded and Priscilla continued.
"Didn't I tell Angie that I wanted to protect her, but it looked like she would be the one protecting me?"
Priscilla smiled sadly at the forlorn figure shambling down the hallway, at the girl adrift and wallowing in a sea of uncertainty.
"Trust Giuseppe to be better than me…"
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She dreamed of him. They were enjoying the marvelous view of the ocean from the balcony of his family home in Sicily. The cry of seagulls drifted down to where they stood even as the sea breezes rose to caress them in appreciation.
"Henrietta?"
"Yes, Giuseppe?"
"I'll be leaving for somewhere distant soon. I'll be gone a long time."
"When do we leave?" So she could make preparations.
"No, Henrietta," he softly told her. "I have to go alone. You can't go to where I'm going."
Her face fell. "But why? Where are you going? Why can't I go?"
"I can't tell you right now. You would probably understand, but still–"
"But I want to be with you! I don't want to be left behind," she breathlessly pleaded. "I don't want to be left all alone."
"You'll never be alone. You have all the others with you. Triela. Claes. Rico. Jean will take care of you while I'm gone. I know my brother will."
She was quiet for a while. Then: "You will come back, won't you?"
"Yes," he assured her. "One day, I'll come back for you."
And she held on to that assurance. She knew he always told the truth with her.
"But," he solemnly said. "You have to wait for me. It will be a long time before I come back. I might not even make it where I need to go."
"No." At that, she explained. "I know you'll make it to wherever you want to go, Giuseppe. And I know you'll come back for me." Her eyes shone with profound trust and admiration. "Because you know everything and can do anything."
He smiled at her. "And now I know I do." Pausing, he then added: "You'll be a good girl for me, will you? You'll be a normal girl, even when I'm not there to remind you, right?"
She nodded quickly, automatically. But his next request surprised her.
"You'll never forget me, will you?"
That gave her pause. "Giuseppe…"
"I know you won't forget me, Henrietta. Still–"
She grasped his warm hand in her own small ones and held him tightly.
"I won't," she finally said. "I promise."
"Me, too."
Tears streamed down her face. Nevertheless, she found the strength to smile.
"Ciao for now. Until we meet again. Henrietta."
"Ciao. Giuseppe."
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The chapel was empty and dark when Jean entered. He left Rico outside, ostensibly as a guard.
The truth was that he didn't want anyone to be around him right now. Least of all a girl whom he named after his dead little sister.
He needed time to himself. Time to consider his thoughts and emotions. To compose himself so as to go on living.
Time to pray to a God he secretly, dearly, desperately hoped was real.
For, despite his affected appearance of invulnerability, Jean remained human.
He selected a pew at random. Kneeling, his head bowed, he crossed himself and began to pray.
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A sprightly "Yes?" answered them from behind the door.
Henrietta wore the new sundress Giuseppe had bought for her just a week ago. She bore a small basket of fresh fruits.
"Oh! Triela! Mr. Hilshire! Good morning! Are you going to take me to visit Giuseppe now? I'm really worried about him, and I'd really feel better if I could see he's all right. I really miss him, you know…"
She stopped in mid-explanation. Hilshire was visibly uncomfortable. Triela looked even more pained.
Henrietta felt cold.
"Is there something wrong?" she slowly asked.
"Henrietta," Triela murmured. "There's something you need to know."
The basket clattered to the floor, its contents spilling across the carpet. So did Henrietta.
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To be Continued
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She is daddy's girl. But what is she to do when daddy is gone? Next on Life Goes On: Henrietta.