"So," the well-dressed man who went by the name of Mr. Gray murmured, "This is a mechanical body…"
"Yes, sir," answered the person with many aliases– Colonel Daren to the CRG, Remue Dadaam Herumet today with the PRF, Rolito Miranda to Amalgam and his two beloved wards, his true identity known only to himself and one other whom he loved so much.
The mechanical body being discussed stood ramrod-straight even as she fought down nervous embarrassment and a nagging, irrational fear at the back of her brown-topped head.
Sensei would never sell me…
Life Goes On
Revamped Notes
Text in "()" are said over the radio or phone. Italicized text denotes thought. Bold text emphasizes the word/s.
Disclaimer
Gunslinger Girl, Noir, Full Metal Panic! The Second Raid, Metal Slug and Saikano are owned by their respective owners. I 'own' Giuseppe, Elena and Rolito. The Handsome Men and Jeremy Colt are courtesy Person With Many Aliases, and Mr. Gray is owned by Maxwell's Demon. I highly recommend you read up their works to get a better feel out of them.
Revamped Chronology
This story happens past Volume Six of Gunslinger Girl, several years after Noir, sometime after Full Metal Panic: The Second Raid and five years or so before the events of Saikano (manga).
Twenty-One
Padre
(Father)
Waiting was hard on Elena. Amalgam's conditioning drug was different from what Section Two used. Far less damaging in the long run– Amalgam cyborgs had perhaps twice the lifespan of their counterterrorist predecessors, and far better long-term memory–, but it didn't bring out the same level of cocked-and-locked danger-sense that translated into an overprotective paranoia about their handler's safety. And Rolito used the barest minimum on his two wards.
Her Sensei had gone off with their customer (Mr. Gray is such a suspicious sounding name, Elena decided) to discuss something important. So important, Mr. Gray willingly left most of his bodyguards– and Rolito did the same with Elena.
"I may have an alternative product your colleagues may accept. Do you have somewhere private we may talk?"
"Yes."
"Good. Let's go there. Bring anyone you trust."
"That is fine with me." Mr. Gray dismissed most of his men. Rolito turned to Elena.
"Sensei?"
"Stay there, Elena. This isn't for your ears. Don't worry; I'll be back."
"Okay..."
So she anxiously waited in the luxurious suite of some unknown apartment complex. (Rolito once joked that Padania liked to hide in apartments.) The living room alone dwarfed the long-gone apartment back in Matera, and the plush leather sofa she occupied was far more comfortable than all the mattresses and pillows she shared with her family.
But the suite also reeked of gunpowder and male sweat, and of barely-repressed hostility and secretive suspicion, nothing at all like the pleasant homeliness of her old home. She did not like the place or the people.
I hope Sensei comes back soon…
In a high-backed sofa, occasionally swinging her sandaled feet and fiddling with a brown braid to while away the time, Elena innocently acted the part of the harmless eleven-year-old girl. The pointed, cross-adorned frills ringing the cuffs of her lavender blouse's long sleeves flopped about her wrists as she gathered her knee-length skirt of white cotton about her for the third time.
Again she left her bow in the back of their rented RAV4. The SUV itself sat in their apartment complex's basement parking lot. Rolito decided to take a randomly chosen taxi to a nearby subway station, only to get off two stations later to repeat the process. They walked the last mile or to the rendezvous, where a beat-down Volvo sedan and a Padania driver waited. Her Sensei's paranoia was exhaustive.
Mr. Gray's own security measures were significant. Blindfolds kept Rolito and Elena in the literal dark during the drive to the conference area. The dozen hard-bitten bodyguards populating the premise were heavily armed and suspicious of everyone. They refused to look at Elena for long, though. Padania had been so badly mauled by Section Two's agents that its hostility spilled over unto Amalgam's cyborgs.
Elena sighed. What do I do?
"Good afternoon."
She looked up. The man who greeted her was American, bigger and taller than her Sensei, and wore shades as dark as his beard. Elena didn't remember seeing him among the "welcoming committee" from earlier.
He was also just five feet away.
Where did he come from? the alarmed Elena realized. And how did he get so close to me without my noticing?
Specters of Jeremy Colt and Chloe from that luncheon at Rolito's Pasta a few days ago had set her on edge for a while now. Conditioning and training now kicked in. A quick sniff told her this man carried steel. (Also alcohol; Elena's nose wrinkled at the smell of scotch.) Knives, probably, since she couldn't pick up the smell of gun oil or powder. Just like Chloe or Sensei.
At least he was not a cyborg. He didn't move right for one– though he could be faking it. Elena knew her Sensei practiced such defensive duplicity. Rolito always complained about getting old and slow, but he also kept proving to be unbelievably fast over short distances. Not as fast as her brother or Elena herself, perhaps, but certainly faster than most, un-augmented people. Fast enough to escape a Section Two junior agent back at the Mirasol– and that last was no tall tale.
Rolito had also told her about people who through intense training and willpower could briefly surpass human physical limitations and match or even exceed cyborgs' capabilities.
"Let's be glad we're operating in Rome," a somber Rolito pointed out. "I'd hate to work in Hong Kong. There, we'd run into the Takamachi siblings more likely than not."
Elena had to ask. "How good are they, Sensei?"
"Let's just say that Miyuki's about on par with me, but is younger, while Kyouya-oniichan practically teleports over small distances. And don't let me get started on little sister Nanoha..."
It was one of those times that she knew she just had to believe him, however impossible it seemed. "All legends rest upon a tiny grain of fact," Rolito lectured, once upon a time. "You can't lie well if you didn't know the truth in the first place."
She realized this American newcomer possessed much the same air as her Sensei. Less energetic, perhaps, since he was obviously older and bigger. But his blue eyes were similarly wise, and his movements were just as easy.
But surely Sensei's better than him…
She noticed the guards were not surprised or threatened. In fact, they seemed to defer to the man and were even afraid of him. That meant he ranked pretty high in Padania. And that he was very dangerous.
He was still smiling at her. It was allowable and expected. Elena wasn't knock-them-dead pretty or conceited, but she did allow that she was cute, and liked to bask in other people's approval. Besides, this man wasn't that French boy who tried to hit on her. Marc, was that what he was called?
Stay focused, Elena…
"Hello," she finally returned. Honest politeness, Rolito stressed, was important in defusing potential trouble or misdirecting enemies. Also: "Be polite to everyone, friendly to no one." This man didn't seem to be hostile, though her Sensei once said that the really good killers easily masked their killing intent. Suspect everything. Trust no one. "May I know who you are?"
"You can call me John Doe," said the smiling man.
Rolito pocketed his compact scanner. No readings meant the room was clean of electronic bugs. To be sure, the portable jamming device he placed on the table would disrupt every electronic device within five meters.
He nodded thanks at his host. "Sorry, Mr. Gray. It's a bad habit of mine."
"No offense taken, Mr. Herumet. Security is always a must. Please, sit down."
"Thank you."
The leather-skinned chair was pleasurably cushy. Rolito kept his head and neck clear of the backrest to avoid leaving strands of hair or skin flakes that could betray his identity later on. Gloves similarly protected his hands as they gripped his seat's wooden arms. He studied his client through tinted shades.
The man on the other side of the glossy glass-topped table was not Mr. Gray. Sure, this thirty-ish Italian with the "Padania" haircut and the nice blue suit was the voice on the phone that set this meeting. But not the big PRF fish himself. This guy was simply not… evil enough.
Wow. This observation from an infamous assassin, terrorist and arms dealer...
Rolito coldly reminded himself that while his client's identity was very well protected, he himself was seated in this chair, face to face with a Padania man who might or might not have a good memory and/or eye for details, and who might or might not be a spy for a host of unpleasant people, starting with the PRF itself, then Section Two, then Childville and the Handsome Men, and finally (not to mention most ominously) Amalgam, Leonard being a most cunning sort.
Games within games within games.
A whimsical thought came to him: Am I really that scary to merit a proxy?
No. Mr. Gray just doesn't want to have his face seen.
Why? Is he camera shy? Does he have warts or a great big-ass nose to rival Cyrano de Bergerac? Or is he one of those superstitious Amish types who believe their souls get trapped inside photographs?
Gray's got to be Italian. Too patriotic to be otherwise– though I do have the fine historical examples of Wenceslao Retana and Ferdinand Blumentritt being more pro-Filipino than the most rabid native Filipino nationalist. A public figure? Someone I see on TV every day or so? I wouldn't be too surprised if he's a politician. The PRF has sympathizers everywhere, including the top brass. Plus, Section Two's kill score includes a couple of Senators and a good number of Congressmen. No innocents there. Are there? Nope. Never.
Shelving the stimulating mental exercise for later, Rolito gave his host a wan smile. "What I am about to tell you is for your ears only. No one else must know of it. I trust you will keep this to yourself. Am I clear on that, Mr. Gray?"
"Of course."
"Your friends must really dislike the idea of using… dolls. Well, then." Sorry, Elena, was his errant thought. The man in black hunched forward slightly. "Are you familiar with the superhero Captain America? The genetically-enhanced Super Soldier?"
"Somewhat…"
"We have two special programs. One is Project Child, our cyborg program, which I work for. The other, newer program," a second finger followed, "Is Project Extended. Project Extended dabbles in biological enhancement. Long story short, they rebuild people into Captain America– or, in your case, Capitano Italia."
That intrigued Mr. Gray. Anyone could make machines. But what Rolito now suggested was rather like playing God. "Can you tell me how you do it?" he asked.
"A little. We replace a subject's muscles and organs with rapidly-grown, biologically-improved equivalents. Better muscles, better lungs, et cetera. The technology sprang from the need to provide replacement organs for medical patients. The medical giants decided it was too expensive." Rolito shrugged. "We picked it up and adapted it."
"Are they clones?"
"No. Extended retain their identities and memories. They are more or less organic. No artificial muscles or bulletproof skin. But they are stronger and faster than normal humans– and from what I gather," the man in black smiled, "Even stronger than cyborgs."
"How so?" Mr. Gray asked.
"While the cyborgs' artificial myomer muscles –the technology was lifted from Arm Slaves, you see– have excellent power-to-size ratios– meaning, they're strong for their size–, the human muscle has great potential. And bigger is better. You see, Mr. Gray," Rolito casually revealed, "An Extended does not have to be a child. He can be your hardest, most skilled operative– but now better, faster, stronger.
"An Extended retains his training and experience before his… upgrade. He heals quicker than usual. He's faster and stronger. He doesn't have the limitations of cyborgs– the need for conditioning drugs and a handler, the heavy weight, surgical repair of damage.
"There are some quirks," Rolito calmly admitted, "Some minor issues to be resolved, but I assure you that the Extended are a very viable alternative to cyborg technology."
"Why didn't you tell me of them in the first place?" Mr. Gray asked.
"I'm with Project Child, not Project Extended. Interestingly, Project Extended is looking for sponsors. Here's your chance to get a slice of some hot new technology."
"It sounds too good to be true," Mr. Gray finally commented. "First you offer us cyborgs. Then, when we hesitate to commit, you tell me of the Extended. Would you happen to have more gifts in your box of tricks?"
"That depends on your needs. I'm not the best person to explain these things. I just make the sales pitch." Rolito gestured with his glove-clad palms "If you would like, I'll arrange a specialist on the Extended to detail things for you."
"That would be helpful, yes."
"So, a formal presentation of the whole program in, say, a week?"
"A week will suffice. Is it possible to arrange a live demonstration?"
Rolito pursed his lips. "I'll have to clear it with my boss." Do we have an Extended demonstrator? I think we have one. I'm going to have to check it out with Ami later. "There will be a small fee."
"Understandable."
"Then, given a demonstration, may I count on you to decide within… two weeks? Three?"
"Three weeks."
"I'll see you, then. A pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Gray."
"The same here, Mr. Herumet."
Both men stood up. A sudden bout of curiosity wrinkled Mr. Gray's forehead. "I am curious. Pardon my asking, but what kind of a surname is Herumet?"
Rolito laughed. "It's a corruption of my father's surname of Helmut," he smoothly lied. "My father was German, and my mother was Japanese. She broke his name down into syllables so she could pronounce it easier."
"I see."
Yes. And you'll enter that into the first crime database computer you can compromise, just to be sure. And you'll find zilch. You may know Captain America, Mr. Gray, but you don't know one Char Aznable from Gundam 0079. Seig Zion.
Now: who are you
"So you're one of the girls they've been talking about," John Doe commented after plunking into the sofa next to Elena.
"Be careful," Rolito had earlier instructed her. "We're heading into Indian country. Watch your words. Trust no one. Volunteer nothing, not even indirectly."
"I'm sorry," was her civil reply, "But I don't know what you mean."
"Ah. I see."
"My Sensei told me never to talk to strangers," Elena righteously informed her interrogator.
"That's good advice. Your Sensei is very important to you, isn't he?"
She let angry silence be her answer.
"Have you," John Doe carefully asked, "Ever killed anyone?"
The cyborg girl startled slightly.
"Lie if you think you can get away with it. Otherwise, don't. But if you do lie, be succinct."
I have to make him think I'm dangerous, Elena decided.
"Yes," she muttered.
"How many?" John kindly inquired.
"Enough."
"How?"
"I don't have to tell you the details. Unless," and Elena did her best imitation of Rolito's mewling threat-tone, "You want to experience it firsthand."
John Doe laughed. "Spunky little kid, aren't you?"
She refused to provide him any more amusement.
They sat in silence for ten minutes, him eyeballing her with lazy curiosity, she refusing to even look at him. And then Rolito entered the living room again.
"Sensei!"
"Yo, Elena." He walked over to the beaming girl. "Deal's done. Meet your new owner." He gestured to Mr. Gray.
"What?"
Rolito laughed at his ward's horrified expression. "Never," he told her, and ruffled her hair. He looked her new "friend" over with surprised interest. "Mr. John Doe, I presume?"
"In the flesh. Glad to meet you, Mr. Herumet."
They shook hands. Elena stared at them. "You know each other, Sensei?"
"By reputation. John here taught Pinocchio," Rolito told her.
Elena gasped. Pinocchio, The Good Son, was one of the deadliest assassins in modern-day Europe.
"About one of just a half dozen or so people," Rolito had told her and Giuseppe during a training break maybe a year past, long before she met two of those special people at a pasta restaurant just days ago, "Who can go head-to-head with a mechanical body and win." Her Sensei didn't even jokingly compare himself to Pinocchio, a clear measure of how much he respected the younger assassin.
But Pinocchio was dead. He had been killed by the Section Two cyborg named Triela– thought not without a serious fight. According to the files the late Draghi had leaked to Rolito, the first time they tangled, Pinocchio knocked Triela out but spared his opponent's life for reasons unknown. Triela did not return the favor in their next bout. Still, she paid for it and was down for repairs for a week or so.
Elena stared at John Doe. This guy was Pinocchio's trainer?
And then she realized something else.
Her Sensei was wary of John Doe.
Not afraid, but wary. Like two big dogs, each capable of ripping the other's throat out with ease, sniffing at each other in a curious manner to ascertain whether or not the other was friendly.
The artificial myomer muscles composing much of Elena's body slowly tautened for possible action.
If he dares harm Sensei…
"Archaic types like us are few and far between," Rolito was cheerily telling John Doe. "It's nice to know there's at least one other rurouni in the area."
"Until you have to fight him," John quipped.
"Ah, but your boss and I are the best of friends. Aren't we, Mr. Gray?" Rolito inquired.
"Of course," the Padania boss agreed.
John glanced at Elena. "She is your cyborg?"
"Yes."
Elena didn't know what to be more stunned of: John's openly-phrased question or Rolito's equally clear answer.
"Is she any good?" John asked.
"Quite."
"For a person who has not killed anyone yet."
Elena's hasty glare abruptly died off when she noticed that her Sensei was staring particularly hard at John Doe. "What," Rolito mused aloud, "Are you telling me, Mr. Doe?"
Sensei… Sensei is angry!
"This girl is a weapon," John flatly declared.
"Yes," Rolito coolly agreed, "She is. But I am her owner and wielder. I will use her in whatever way I want to. And if I want her as a ceremonial decoration for display during the annual May Day Parade, she will be that and just that."
"Then she is wasted on you."
"Better me than you."
John was still as death. Elena prepared to explode into defensive action despite the danger to her self, the Padania guards eyeing her warily and fingering their weapons.
Don't move, Elena, her Sensei's fingers abruptly gestured.
"Sensei?"
"You're willing to kill for this girl?" John finally asked.
"I'm willing to die for her." But it's easier to kill for her, Rolito didn't add, because that way Elena stays happy and innocent.
As for me? I've killed before. No skin off my nose.
John stepped back. "Apologies, Mr. Herumet." The American tipped his head slightly. "The fault is mine."
Rolito returned the apologetic gesture. "Accepted." Rolito briefly nodded to Mr. Gray. "No need to fret, Mr. Gray. We old dinosaurs like testing each other this way."
The Padania boss didn't look too convinced. Not like I care anymore, Rolito decided. "Come on, Elena. We're leaving."
"Yes, Sensei."
Mr. Gray and John Doe watched the car carrying their guests depart through a curtained window.
"Why did you goad Mr. Herumet?" Gray muttered. "The man was our guest and is one of our most reliable contacts."
"As the man said, we old dinosaurs like testing each other that way."
"Our boss won't like this, threatening one of his supporters…"
"He pays me to take care of troublemakers. And he won't have to bother liking or disliking what he doesn't know."
Gray managed to suppress a shiver at John Doe's reminder. "…Have you found those outsiders you warned me about?"
"Just one. A sniper. He ignored me."
"What do you mean by that?"
"He knew I was there. But he wasn't afraid of me. His partner was nearby, hidden so well that even I couldn't find him. If I had made any move to attack the sniper," Doe revealed, "His partner would have killed me where I stood."
"You think so, Mr. Doe?"
"Yes. That's why Mr. Herumet was so confident. Makes you wonder who warranted such confidence."
"(They're moving, Jeremy.)"
"I got 'em."
Jeremy Colt peered through the 6X Hensoldt scope of his borrowed H&K G3 SG1 sniper rifle. He had lost almost all his arsenal in their flight from the Handsome Men, so Rolito lent him the rifle the day before, at least until Colt could buy his own weapons. He didn't complain about hand-me-downs. The SG1 was an old but reliable weapon chambered for the big 7.62mm NATO FMJ round. Rolito shared Colt's belief in big bullets (a product, so went the rumors, of running into psychic horned freaks in Japan. Colt only had to pop an aspirin to believe.)
"Are they being followed?" he asked over the secure Codec radio Rolito provided him with.
"(No.)"
"Our own backs clean?"
"(Yes. The man who spotted you has gone back into the building.)"
"He's pretty good." But not good enough. "Okay, Chloe, bug out. Make sure no one's tailing us."
"(Understood,)" True Noir answered.
Elena was no longer surprised when Rolito told the taxi driver to go in a direction away from their apartment base. She also kept quiet about the irregularity. Her Sensei rarely found anything that could provoke his temper, but when he did get riled, he tended to be quite spectacular. The best way for her to help was to let him simmer.
Meanwhile, she dealt with her own small bit of anger. If I ever see that man again…
After the taxi dropped them off, they visited four randomly-picked hostels on foot. They rented a medium-sized suite with two beds at the fourth hostel using his "Mitsubishi Shiro" (Elena wondered why this particular alias sported the brand name of a car company) persona. Rolito paid in cash.
"We'll stay here for the night," he told Elena as he closed the door. "The bastards are expecting us to be home. Let's keep them guessing as to where it is."
He carelessly tossed the swearword about him like used clothing. Before, he had always watched his mouth around her. He's still angry, she thought.
"Sorry about the shi–" Rolito abruptly cut himself off in mid-curse. He sighed. "Sorry, Elena. This was the best room still available. I didn't think to bring fresh clothes."
"It's okay, Sensei." Her smile was serene. "We're only staying here for the night."
"Yeah. We are."
Then it was time to place a few calls. Rolito checked on Colt and Chloe at their hideout. He thanked the two assassins and assured them that the first installment of their pay was already in the agreed account.
"Now, don't go buying tactical nukes just because you can, Jerry!"
"(Screw you, Rouge,)" Colt cheerfully returned.
Next, Rolito called Hobbes to have dinner for two delivered to their temporary accommodation. The British headwaiter was delighted to be of service. Strangely, Hobbes didn't seem to mind that "Sir Darren" used an alias. He also didn't seem to mind that Rolito set the phone on Paging Mode so Elena could hear what they were saying. In fact–
"(I'll send the little Miss' favorite apple juice over, Sir Darren.)"
"Thanks a bunch, Hobbes." Elena had absolutely loved the freshly-pressed fruit juice from Rolito's Pasta.
"(Also, Sir Darren, I would like to convey a message to the little Miss from Master Marc…)"
"Marc? You mean that punk kid from when we dropped by Rolito's the last time?"
"(Quite so, Sir Darren. Master Marc wishes to apologize to you for displeasing you and unintentionally disrespecting the little Miss. He also inquired of me if the little Miss will visit here again any time soon.)"
"And you're telling me this because?"
"(Sir Darren, I may be Master Marc's friend, but I am your man.)"
"And a damn good man you are, Hobbes." Rolito aimed a smirk at Elena. "Tell the young master that he shouldn't get his hopes up. But if he always drinks his vitamins, says his prayers and entertains no wrong thoughts about Elena for the rest of his life, I might forget to outright disapprove of him."
"(I will convey your message to that effect, Sir Darren,)" the pleased Hobbes said.
"You do that, Hobbes. Thanks a lot, again."
"My pleasure, Sir Darren."
Rolito cut the connection. He grinned. "It looks like both Hobbes and Marc took a shine to you, Elena," he teased.
"Sensei…"
"So, do you like Marc?"
"Eh? Marc?" Elena was beet red. "Well… He's cute…"
"And?"
"But I already have a boy I like," she finished.
"Oh? Tell Papa."
She stuck her tongue out at him. Rolito laughed. "One of these days," he promised, "If we get a lucky break, I'm going to take you to see Auntie Carla and Uncle Francisco. You'll love them."
He was rambling. That was good. It meant he was no longer angry. Yet that suddenly positive outlook was also troubling in its own way. His infamous unreliability was coming out again.
Why?
"Sensei?"
"You are not going to be a killer, Elena."
"What? Sensei, I don't understand…"
"You don't have to kill. You shouldn't kill. I won't allow it."
"But why?"
"Why? Because I love you." Rolito gave the stunned girl a small, sad smile. "Remember when we went to Rolito's Pasta the first time? When we played father-and-daughter?" His dark eyes softened at thinking of the fond memory. "I asked you to call me Papa, didn't I?"
"Yes…"
"Well, back then, I felt like I was really your father. And once I thought of it, I realized I've had that feeling since I first met you and your brother years ago. You were a daughter to me in all but name. I've grown to love you like a real daughter.
"Then I realized that a good father would not send his beloved daughter to go and kill for him. Or," and his lips sealed briefly, Rolito hesitating upon the unpleasant thought, "Or to die for him. God might have sent His Only Son to die for Man, but He's God. I'm just a selfish, old man who's lost one too many loved ones to not end up wanting to have more people to love. I will not sacrifice my daughter for the world. I will fight the world for her. I will kill for her.
"I feel even worse when I think of Giuseppe. I made your brother into a killer. He doesn't mind. He's doing it for you. I understand it. I'd do the same if I were him. But if you are my daughter, that makes your brother my son. I should be protecting him as well. Yet he doesn't worry me as much as you do. Maybe it's because he's a boy," Rolito admitted. "Boys are supposed to be stronger and more capable. We're supposed to be protecting the girls. Call it old-fashioned or chauvinism or machismo. But we're going to protect you, your brother and me. So you won't have to kill. So you can live as normally as you can."
"Sensei…"
"I won't accept your cybernetics or your conditioning as excuses. That's the lame way out. The way those–" he bit his lower lip "–Those people at Section Two think. I'm not like them. I'm better than them. I can do what they can't. I'll make the impossible possible. I'll give you your happiness and make sure you keep it.
"I know you can't go back to being normal. You have a mechanical body now. You're a killing machine in the guise of a child– no; you're a child trapped inside a killing machine. But you can still be a little girl. You will live your happy life. We'll make that happen. I will make it happen," he swore, equal parts angry, determined and distracted, almost mad.
"Papa."
Her singular whisper silenced him. She accepted his astonishment and gave him her understanding in return. And she would not turn away from him. Because, for the first time in three years, since she woke up from black nothingness and found his brown face beaming at her, Elena knew she at last could see into Rolito's heart and begin to understand who her Sensei, her new father, really was.
"You're hurting. You're hurting a lot, Papa. You're carrying a very big pain inside your heart. You've been carrying it for a very long time. It isn't about Big Brother or me. It's about someone else. Someone you've met before. Someone you've loved. Someone you've lost."
Rolito bowed his graying head. Trembling, Elena could barely keep her voice and tears in check.
"Papa? Who is it you love so much?"
For the longest moment in his life, he refused.
I can't. I can't tell her.
She won't understand.
She shouldn't know.
It's for her sake, too. Not just yours. If you come to love her too much, you'll get hurt again when you lose her.
I won't lose her. Not this time. Not again.
But you will. You always lose the ones you love.
…
Everyone dies, Elde. Jessica died.
Elena isn't Jessica. Elena is Elena
She is just human. You are just human.
That doesn't stop me from trying. Does it?
…No. Not at all.
Elena won't become another Jessica. I won't allow that to happen.
At last he looked into the shining face of the girl he'd come to love so much. Instantly the black fortress guarding the fastness of his heart crumbled into nothing. He felt no regret or shame. Indeed, he felt so light and free at being able to finally confess his weary soul's burden.
"There was a girl named Jessica. I loved her very much."
And Rolito let himself weep.
"Your thoughts, sir?" the man who had posed as Mr. Gray asked his patron over the phone.
"(A terribly interesting proposition, and well worth it, if it's real. I will discuss this with my colleagues, but I think it sounds promising enough to commit. Inform Mr. Herumet of our interest at your next meeting.)"
"Of course, Mr. Gray."
Done with the first of his many duties, the Padania man dialed a different number.
"(Hello?)"
"It's me." The informant did not bother identifying himself. "I think I may have the man you want."
Inside his office at a certain converted monastery outside of Rome, Jean Croce sat a little straighter.
To Be Continued
Teaser
"Go. I love you to death. I'll catch up. I promise."
We'll be a family again, you and I.
Next on Life Goes On: Caduta (Falling)
-
Author Fashion Notes: Elena wears the clothes of Iliyasviel von Einsbern from Fate/Stay Night.