In the kitchen, in the apartment in France that they both shared, Mireille Bouquet was silently cooking breakfast. An omelette for each of them. Normally they ate lightly in the morning, perhaps a croissant or some fruit, but she felt that Kirika needed the sustenance. Kirika was still in bed. Not sleeping, Mireille was sure. Not moving either, simply staring at the ceiling, in a depressed haze of guilt and self loathing. Leaning on the side for support Mireille let out a deep sigh. It was hurting her too. Not what the drug had done, that was over and done with. She had been deeply embarrassed to know how she had acted, and perhaps it had left a thorn between them. A lack of trust, that whenever they looked at each other, they wondered if the other was going to jump them. It was Kirika who was hurting her. This lack of communication, the way she stared hopelessly, the look of pain on her face. It hurt Mireille to look at her. Why couldn't they just act like it had never happened, why couldn't they go back to how they had been. Damn it, Mireille had been affected too, but she didn't blame herself, it was Edwin and Merophoxyll who had done it! The omelette was done, the edges burned slightly as she fought within herself. Muscles weak with depression herself, Mireille scooped out the omelette and placed it on a plate for Kirika, and one more for herself. She laid them on the table and poured out some orange juice, doing all she could to put off that moment. "Kirika?" She called hesitantly, afraid that the small Asian might rebuff her attempts to feed her. Kirika hadn't been eating recently, and not sleeping much either. Wasting away in front of her eyes. "What." A voice replied emotionlessly. It wasn't a question, nor a statement, just words that held no meaning. But today, Mireille wasn't playing this game. "Kirika?" She called again, rattling the utensils to alert Kirika to what she meant. There was silence. Dragging on for minutes before a soft mumble came from behind the partition, followed by the footsteps of a small girl. Kirika looked dead. Her face seemed pale and miserable and the way she walked suggested a lack of will involved. Her eyes were the soulless empty red orbs she had first known her to have. Mireille was heartbroken. The girl sat at the table and silently picked up her knife and fork, eating the omelette with a cold precision. Focusing all her attention on the slightly burnt egg and leaving none for Mireille... "Kirika..." Mireille sighed, but the girl didn't look up. Simply putting down her knife and fork and rising to leave again, never a word uttered. Mireille got to her feet quickly, leaving her meal half finished. "Kirika!" She shouted angrily, halting the girl in her tracks. An empty face turned to regard her. "Kirika, this has to stop! There is nothing to be ashamed about, this wallowing in guilt is ridiculous, it's destroying you, and I don't want that! I was affected just like you, and I'm not killing myself over it, so this ends now!" Mireille finished on a command, hoping that her speech might break through Kirika's stubborness and reach her mind. The girl turned and began to walk away again, never once showing emotion, nor making any move to answer her... Mireille's breathing hitched... Kirika turned around and walked away, barely hearing the words that Mireille had shouted at her. How could Mireille understand? How could she know what Kirika really felt? Her anger had a lot to do with the drug, and how she had acted, but more about how she herself had taken it. Never once had she fought the on come of the drug within herself. Never once. The entire time she had accepted it within herself, as an emotion. Kirika now realised how strange she had been acting, how had she not noticed at the time? "Why are you doing this to me...?" A cracked voice whispered from behind her, filled with hurt, an immeasurable pain and suffering. Kirika stopped immediately, Mireille was hurt. She didn't want Mireille to be hurt... She turned around slowly. Mireille was there, on her knees. Her legs splayed out to either side as her head was bowed, and her hands meeting on the floor in front of her. Kirika could see the tears falling down onto those hands. "Mireille?" She whispered quietly, afraid of what she would hear, hating herself even more for doing this to Mireille. She was truly a monster. "Why are you hurting me so...?" The blonde whispered through her tears. Kirika was shivering, she didn't want to hurt Mireille, she hated seeing her partner in such pain. "You don't talk anymore, you don't sleep, I'm afraid of what I'll see when I look at you, you'll die! I don't want you to die..." The huddled form of her partner was rocking slightly, wracked by sobs as she so obviously sought to control her pain, to hide it from Kirika. To be strong... "I'm... sorry..." She answered uselessly, Mireille shook her head violently. "You're not, you keep blaming yourself, and when you do that it hurts me! I don't blame you Kirika, why can't we just go back to living like normal?" Kirika couldn't answer that. Because even though I'm cured, I still feel the same love for you. Whilst I feel this, we can never go back to normal. Kirika knelt before her partner, trying to look into her eyes, but Mireille would not meet her eyes, staring down at her hands which were rapidly becoming soaked with salty tears. "I don't want to hurt you Mireille. But I can't forgive myself for what I did to you. At every step I forced myself on you, tried to make you do what you didn't want to do. It was rape. I was raping you..." There were tears in her own eyes now, running down her own cheeks. How could she have done that to Mireille, the woman she loved? "It wasn't rape..." Mireille managed to get out from between her sobs. Hesitantly, afraid that she might be overstepping herself, Kirika reached out and placed a hand on Mireille's shoulder. A moment later and the blonde had latched onto her, crying into her shirt as she sobbed and shivered. Kirika's eyes were wide. Mireille had always been the strong one, the one who was in control. Kirika had thought that nothing could hurt her. To know, that yet again, it was herself who could bring pain to others, but this time to the one person she only wanted to be happy... "It wasn't rape..." Mireille repeated again, looking up into Kirika's brown eyes. Kirika felt her heart twist as she looked at Mireille's eyes, they were filled with so much pain, as well as something else. "It can't be rape, unless I was unwilling." Kirika looked down shocked. "What? Mireille, I don't understand..." Mireille looked back up to her eyes again, she almost looked to be fighting to say something. "Although I never realised it, I came to understand... that... I want.. you too. Kirika, I love you..." Kirika released her and stepped back, shivering violently. Someone was hyperventilating, it took her a moment to realise it was herself. "You don't mean that..." She whispered, unwilling to believe Mireille had said it, afraid it might be a dream. Mireille was on her feet too, an arm outstretched to her in pleading. "I love you Kirika..." She sobbed, "please tell me you feel the same...please.." She was begging, her voice showing how much this meant to her. Kirika rushed her, almost knocking her to the floor as she latched onto the woman's body in a tight hug. Crying her heart out into the blonde woman's breast. There were soft hands on her head, stroking her hair soothingly as she was rocked slowly. "I love you Mireille! I love you!" She cried loudly into the woman, unwilling to let go, terrified that she might open her eyes, and wake up with Mireille sleeping next to her as always. Just another cruel dream. Wet hands fumbled for her cheeks, pulling her face up into a kiss pent full of frustration. Wrestling all their pain out of them as they clung to each other in tears. Two professional assassins, the best of the best, the only ones who could ever hurt them were themselves. Mireille manoeuvred them to the bed, sitting down without once breaking the kiss, never once stopping from touching each other. Neither wanted to break that contact. Kirika smiled through her tears as she felt Mireille pulling the top from her, stripping her whilst still kissing her. "If you want me to stop..." Mireille whispered, pulling away for a single second, "Then you just have to tell me..." Kirika smiled as she reached up and pulled Mireille in for another deep kiss. "I don't. Mireille, I don't want you to ever stop loving me." Hands wrapped around her neck as Mireille answered into Kirika's own mouth. I never will. Kirika snuggled deeper into Mireille, feeling spent, and yet happy. She looked up into Mireille's flushed face and smiled happily, all previous guilt and misery gone. "You are my first." Kirika whispered to her lover, liking the way Mireille smiled happily. "You're mine too." She replied with a tender smile, Kirika shook her head quickly. "No, I meant first ever, not first woman." Mireille's eyes narrowed dangerously. "So did I, Kirika..." "What! Really!" Kirika gasped, truly shocked, a second later and she realised she may have made a small mistake. "Yes! What do you mean "Really"?" Mireille asked, her eyes mere slits as she searched for the answers in Kirika's blushing face. "Umm... I... Uhhh... assumed... ehhh..." Kirika mumbled, searching for anything she could say to get herself out of this situation. Mireille watched her with an exasperated expression. "Kirika..." She sighed in an exasperated tone, the small Asian kept on mumbling excuses. "Uhhh,... well... ummm... ehhhhh..." "Ah, Ferme ta bouche et embrasse moi!" (Oh, just shut up and kiss me!) Mireille cried out. Kirika smiled as she happily complied.
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