Kirika snuggled deeper into the blankets, searching for the warmth and comfort she technically knew was there. And yet all she found was suffocating blankets and coldness. She knew why. Frustrated at not being able to sleep she kicked the covers off herself and silently padded to the door of the bedroom. Searching for the Mireille, the woman she needed if she was to be able to sleep. In a way she had to wonder if this wasn't some twisted kind of dependency, that she couldn't even sleep unless she has Mireille with her. It was late. Well, only midnight actually, but compared to when they usually went to bed it was late. Almost two hours ago Mireille had sent her off to the shower and then to bed, claiming that she just had to look through their job description before joining. Kirika had complied, Mireille always handled that stuff anyway. But two hours? The door opened silently as she slithered out of the crack and into the main room of their suite. There was a dim light coming from over by the kitchen, illuminating a slouched figure at the bar. Sighing exasperatedly Kirika creeped over to the blonde. She was slouched over the glass bar, with her head resting on her arms, those crossed over sheets of writing. She was fast asleep. What to do?... Carry her to bed? She looked at the blonde, taller and heavier than her, hardly a feather awake, a dead weight whilst asleep. Curl up by her and sleep? Cute, but impractical. Wake her up? ... Suicidal. Admire her whilst she's asleep? Ten minutes passed in silence, before Mireille opened a sleepy eye. "Kirika, will you stop staring at me whilst I'm asleep, it's creeping me out." Kirika smiled to herself as the blonde groggily orientated herself with the room. "I was debating how to wake you up." She answered almost truthfully. Mireille nodded whilst stifling a large yawn. "Why have you been up so late anyway?" At those words Mireille's eyes instantly snapped open with clarity, which was soon dimmed with misery but a moment later. Kirika watched the spectacle in a confused manner. What was she supposed to do? Comfort her? Ask her what's wrong? "Mireille...?" "Yes Kirika. We have our target." The words were spoken like the tolling of a bell, Kirika didn't like the sound of it one bit. A sheet of paper was thrust under her nose, hesitantly she took it from Mireille's hand. A line written in bold caught her attention. Target: Laura Marcis. Psychologist, twenty six years of age... She didn't have to read anymore. "Mireille, we can't, we-" She blurted out in a rush, Mireille interrupted her. "Kirika, I'm sorry, but we're assassins. We don't have a choice, we need what they have." Kirika couldn't believe what Mireille was saying. "But she's my friend!" "I've always told you in this profession you can't just make friends." Kirika stepped back, her breathing hard. What was Mireille saying? Why! She wasn't trying to be cruel, Kirika could see the sorrow in her eyes. But why did they have to do this? "What do they have that we need! Nothing bad has come of that stuff I took, I've not been ill!" Mireille gave her a strange glance, she had seen it before whenever she mentioned the illness. As if it was so obvious that she was surprised Kirika herself could not see it. "Look, Kirika." She began in a patient voice, "There IS something wrong with you, and we need that cure, please just trust me and don't ask anymore." "But-" "Kirika! NO! We HAVE to do this. Please, just accept it already!" Mireille's voice was angry and exasperated, her eyes steely. As if she was losing her patience with this game. "She has a family..." Kirika whispered, referring to the husband and child Laura had mentioned. Had Mireille been less tired she might have thought more about her answer. As it was, fatigue, lack of patience, and her own sadness made her answer instantly. "That didn't stop you when you slaughtered my family." The words hit Kirika like a blow. Her eyes widening was the only indication she gave of the pain she felt. Mireille hasn't forgotten, maybe hasn't forgiven. She still remembers... Still holds it against me... "I'm... sorry..." Those were the only words Kirika could manage to choke out of herself. Mireille looked to be about to answer, climbing out of her chair, but Kirika ran, gripped by insecurity and sudden fear. She didn't want to hear what Mireille had to say, just the chance that it might be "goodbye" frightened her enough to run. ---------- Mireille watched Kirika slam the bedroom door behind her. Her own shoulders slumped miserably. Why had she said that? Was her family's death still weighing on her? Of course it was, but she had never even thought of Kirika as the killer. It had been her to pull the trigger, but Alteana to give her the gun, Alteana to aim the barrel, Alteana to choose the targets. Kirika had been an innocent bystander the entire time. Even in the rain, in the graveyard, with Kirika crying for her to kill her, even then she had forgiven the small Asian girl. ---------- Kirika was crying quietly to herself. The tears had already soaked the pillow her head was resting on. Mireille didn't love her. She hated her. How could she have been so foolish? To think, that anyone could love her, but especially someone who had killed their family? Tomorrow she would leave, be gone, and let Mireille live the happy life she deserved and not this life of death with her. "Mireille..." She sobbed out, hugging the blonde's pillow tighter against herself, she could just smell the woman's fragrance on it, as if she were in the same room. It was not comforting, only serving to make her cry harder. The bed flexed as a weight settled in beside her, she tried to ignore it as she held the pillow against herself, forcing herself not to need Mireille. I can do this, I'm strong... Her heart said otherwise. Arms reached across her, pale skin encircling her small body as Mireille pressed herself comfortingly against her back. Despite the pain in her heart, the motion was still comforting. "Mireille, don't." She whispered, it would be hard enough to leave already. "No." The Corsican blonde replied firmly. "No, I won't." Kirika turned slowly, and was met by soft, gentle blue eyes. "Mireille...?" "I don't hate you Kirika. I've never blamed you for their deaths, it wasn't you. I'm... I'm sorry I ... acted... just... sorry. Please forgive me?" Kirika cried harder, but this time buried her face into Mireille's nightie. Soft soothing hands stroked her hair. Her tears were real, they always were. She had been so close, so close to leaving Mireille forever. What if Mireille had been too embarrassed or too proud to apologise? Kirika would have left and they would never see each other again. She cried harder. "Shhh... it's okay Kirika. It's okay. I'm here." Yes, Mireille was here, here with her. And she would never leave. "Mireille?" The blonde looked down at her, a fond and yet almost tearful look on her face. It made Kirika's heart swell. "Hmm?" Kirika wondered how to phrase her thoughts, in the end she gave up trying. "Mireille..." Another pause. "What is it Kirika?" "I...- love you." There was a long pause. A cacophony of complete silence. "Get some sleep Kirika, tomorrow is going to be complicated, I can just see it." Kirika mumbled in the affirmative, slightly disappointed by Mireille's refusal to answer or reply. But, Mireille needed it slow, Kirika just wanted to make sure Mireille didn't doubt her own feelings one bit. "I love you Mireille." She whispered again, this time too quiet for the blonde to hear. "I love you more than life itself."
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