Noir Fan Fiction ❯ Resolutions ❯ Resolutions ( Chapter 1 )

Muaha. I own not Noir ADV Films does, and nor do I own anything else besides the general chaining of letters into words and sentences presented here. This isn't exactly an extravagant fic; It's more or less covering something I thought the ending didn't cover.

 

Oh, and watch out for tons of spoilers about the ending of the series.

 

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Kirika couldn't help but to let out a small whimper as the car went over a bump in the road. Concerned, Mireille glanced over. “We're almost there. Are you sure you'll be alright until we get to Paris?”

 

“Mm.” Nodding, Kirika gave her partner a tiny smile to show that she was alright.

 

The two were on their way back from the border of France and Spain, having been part of “The Great Return,” the rebirth of Noir. In the end, the girls had escaped that fate, but not before Kirika was shot in the stomach and both girls incurred a number of lesser injuries. Now they were headed back to Paris to try and figure out what they were to do next. The Soldats still reigned over the criminal underworld, and in the course of their assassination career they had gained a number of other enemies.

 

However, that was of little concern to them at the moment. The shadow that had stood over them, the trials, was gone. And now, they were free to do what they wanted.

 

It took a good few hours to get back to Paris. Once there, their first stop was at an old doctor's house, an acquaintance of Mireille's who would not ask awkward questions about obvious gunshot wounds. Then it was off to the apartment the two shared.

 

Unlocking the door to the apartment, Mireille glanced around at the damage and sighed. They would have to clean the place up sooner rather than later, and with the two of them injured, it was sure to be a chore. She helped Kirika inside and gently eased her down into the bed, which had miraculously survived the attack of the Soldats with only a few bullet holes. The blonde then turned to leave, but was stopped by a hand on her wrist. “Mireille?”

 

Allowing herself a small smile at the young Japanese woman's pronunciation of her name, Mireille answered, “Yes? What is it?”

 

“Where are you going?”

 

“I'm just going to try and clean up a bit. There's still a bit of glass left on the floor that I didn't finish cleaning up. It wouldn't do for one of us to step on some glass and get injured again.” She tried again to leave the room, but she was, again, stopped by Kirika's grip on her wrist.

 

Softly, “Please, stay with me.”

 

The pleading in the young assassin's voice made Mireille turn around. In the light of dawn, Kirika looked so fragile and small that the Corsican's heart went out to her. She nodded. “Alright. I suppose it can wait until morning.” Taking off her shoes, she climbed into the bed, pulling the covers up around both of them. Almost instantly they fell asleep, the stresses of the day catching up to them.

 

Some time later Mireille awoke to a strange feeling of warmth on her left side. When she turned her head, she saw that it was Kirika, sleeping right up against her. Sometime in the night, the two had moved closer together. Not that it was a new occurrence; sharing a single bed, it was inevitable that there would be some touching. But with the recent events, she couldn't help but notice some things more acutely. Like how nice the warmth felt, or how it spread though her body, leaving her with a deep feeling of contentment.

 

She frowned. She had never felt this way around Kirika before. Before, she was just a partner-in-assassination, a good friend who she didn't have to worry about getting killed by one of the many enemies she had. And, yes, someone who she has suspected of being involved in her parents' death for a long while. Ever since she had found the letter, though, things had changed. Realizing how her friend felt, or how the blonde thought she felt, made her feel determined to save her at any cost. Then, there was no time to wonder why. Now though, in this bed, she had to ask herself, how had her feeling about the younger girl changed? Was it a deeper friendship? Or… more?

 

She was stirred out of her reverie when Kirika winced and cried out, having accidentally rolled over on her side as she slept. The pain woke her, and smaller woman sat up and blinked sleepily at the other. “Mireille? What time is it?”

 

Glancing at the clock, only to remember it had been destroyed in the gunfight, she replied, “Oh, sometime in the afternoon. We should probably get up and go find something to eat.” Sitting up in bed, Mireille wrinkled her nose at the state of her clothing, and said, “I think I'll go take a shower first, though. You stay in bed, we don't want your wound opening back up.”

 

“Mmm.” Kirika laid back down, and watched the blonde get ready. In truth, Kirika hadn't expected to see Mireille again after the showdown in the graveyard, at least not until she became Noir. When she came to rescue her from the clutches of Altena, though, it was like a dream. Kirika had known how she felt about her partner for a long while; hadn't she saved her once before, from loneliness? Yet as they discovered more and more of the past, she became more and more resigned to nothing coming of it. Not that she left it alone. After the final trial, sensing what would soon happen, she wrote a letter...

 

Kirika shot up in bed, ignoring the pain from her wound. “The letter.” Getting out of bed, she limped her way out of the bedroom, passing by the bathroom as silently as she could. In the living room, she knelt down by the wreckage of the potted plant she had so carefully tended before. Calmly, she looked through the pieces for the letter. Then she looked less calmly. Before she could get really upset, though, she found the crumpled up ball of paper nearby and opened it up. It was the letter.

 

For once, Kirika was confused. Had Mireille found her letter? Why, then, was it all crumpled up on the floor? Was she disgusted? But then why did she go out to The Manor to save her? Her head swam with all the questions. So deep was she in thought that she didn't hear the shower shut off, or Mireille come into the room.

 

“Kirika? What are you doing?” The blonde frowned at the other girl. “I told you to stay in bed.”

 

The girl in question jumped, and looked up. “I was... looking for something,” she said softly, clutching the letter between her hands.

 

Mireille noticed the letter, and she almost said something, but turned her head and announced instead, “Well, get dressed. We'll go get something to eat, then we need to do some shopping before we come back and have some tea.”

 

Kirika nodded and got to her feet, using the wall as a support. Her mind was still reeling with questions, but she forced it all down. There would be time to think later, and her stomach gave a polite growl, reminding her that she hadn't eaten since early on the day before. Mireille chuckled a bit at the sound, and then went back into the bedroom to get dressed.

 

Later that night, they both sat at the pool table, Mireille sipping at a cup of tea as Kirika laid out a tray of biscuits. Mireille watched Kirika contemplatively. The smaller girl had seemed somewhat out of it while they were out, quiet even for her, and Mireille thought she knew why. Kirika had found the letter lying on the floor, obviously, and had probably figured out that she had read it. The question was, what now?

 

Mireille wasn't a fool. When she was younger, she had written her own love letter, and it had been just as ambiguous and confused as Kirika's letter was. Not that Mireille was sure it was a love letter. When she read it, all she had really grasped at the moment was that Kirika had needed her, and off she went to The Manor. Now she wondered. If it was a love letter, what then? Remembering how she felt this morning, Mireille conceded that she might have feelings for the brunette. But they had to think out their next moves, with the Soldats still after them, and any budding relationship would complicate things.

 

Sighing, she put her cup down on the table. Catching Kirika's eye with her own, Mireille told her, “We need to talk.”

 

Looking almost like a deer in headlights, the other girl nodded. “Mm.”

 

Taking that as a yes, Mireille pushed on. “Look... About the letter.” Kirika sat up straighter, and looked about to say something, but she held up her hand. “I... Well, I think I understand what you meant. But we've got to worry about the Soldats, and-“

 

“Then, you don't feel the same.” Not a question, but a quiet statement. Kirika looked down at the table, her bangs hiding her eyes from Mireille's view.

 

“Not... not exactly.” Mireille sighed. “We are talking about love, right?”

 

Almost imperceptibly, Kirika nodded, her mind racing a mile a minute. Not Exactly? Then, “Not exactly?”

 

Mireille didn't answer right away, instead taking a drink of her tea to calm her nerves. “I like you, Kirika, I do. I don't know if it's just because of everything we've gone through together, or whether it's... like that.” Her heart seemed to rise up into her throat when Kirika looked up, the younger girl's eyes swimming with unshed tears and shining with hope. “I... don't want you to get hurt if it turns out to be nothing like what you're wanting.”

 

“Mireille, please, can we just try?” Hearing that the woman she loved might feel the same way made Kirika's heart beat faster. When the blonde opened her mouth to reply, Kirika reached over and laid her hand over Mireille's. “Please.”

 

The look in Kirika's eyes melted Mireille's heart, and any arguments she had died in her throat. So, instead, she rubbed her thumb over Kirika's palm and said, “Okay.” The utterly blissful smile, such a rare expression on her partner's face, made her smile in turn. “Now, there are a few things we can do about the Soldats...”

 

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