Secchan's Fanfiction~

by Secchan Sun 1 Mar 2009 - 3:19

Here ya go, fellas. It's a work in progress; check back for more if you like it ^_^

Gunslinger Girl- Tea, cakes and a teddy or two-

“Don't do that.”
Violet eyes blinked rapidly beneath long, angry lashes.
“Do what?”
“That.”
A long pale finger jabbed out.
“I can swing my legs if I so wish.”
“I'd prefer if you didn't.”
Blue eyes flashed with amusement.
“Since when do I care for what you prefer?”
The violet eyes closed patiently, and the girl emitted a long, deep sigh.
“Just stop swinging them. You're making the whole bunk shake. It's distracting me.”
The other girl chuckled, giving her legs one last defiant swing.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“Don't call me ma'am. It's creepy.”

Triela tied her bow in the mirror, smiling with satisfaction as it tightened crisply around her neck.
“How do I look?” she asked, spinning around.
Claes slowly raised her nose from the book it was buried in. She glanced over her roommate casually.
“The same as always,” she replied, already back to her book.
“And is that a good thing?”
“Yeah, I suppose it is.”
Triela poked out her tongue, but Claes made no indication that she had seen it.
“What are you reading that's so important you won't even look my way?”
“Mmm.”
“That's not an answer.”
Receiving no further reply, Triela scaled the ladder between their bunk beds and flopped down heavily on Claes' back.
“What are you doing?” Claes demanded, trying and failing to roll out from beneath the stronger girl.
“Commanding your attention. What does it look like?”
“Asault, that's what it looks like.”
Triela laughed, her tanned face lighting up. Her blue eyes sparkled down at her younger companion.
“Get off me,” Claes muttered. “I'm reading.”
“Do you ever do anything else?”
It was meant to have been a joke, but as soon as the words left her lips, Triela regretted uttering them. Claes' whole body tensed beneath her.
“Get. Off. Me.”
Triela reached out and placed a gloved hand on Claes' shoulder, but was shrugged off almost instantly.
“Claes, I-”
“Get. OFF.”
Triela recoiled. Slowly she climbed back down the ladder, slightly hurt when she heard Claes sigh with relief. Unsure of what to do, she stood for a few moments at the foot of the ladder and stared ahead at nothing. The sound of pages turning told her that Claes was back to her book.
“Claes...” she said quietly, “I'm sorry. I didn't mean-”
“Didn't mean what?” Claes snapped at her, closing her book with a thud.
“I shouldn't have been so thoughtless.”
Claes was quiet for a moment.
“No, you shouldn't have,” she said after a few moments. “But perhaps, I was being a bit too sensitive, myself.”
There was silence between them again. Triela was lost for words, and it was an odd thing for her. Not knowing what to say made her feel extremely uncomfortable. Weak, almost.
Claes spoke first, her voice empty of it's previous anger.
“Don't worry about it.”
Triela opened her mouth to protest, but was silenced by the crisp sound of turning pages. If Claes was okay about it, then...
“Hey, Triela?”
“Yeah?”
“Weren't you meant to meet Hillshire-”, Claes broke off, glancing at the clock, “about twenty minutes ago?”
Triela whirled around. Her blue eyes widened when they fell on the clock.
“Yes! Oh, shit!”
Claes chuckled quietly, watching over the lip of the top bunk as Triela grabbed up her coat and weapons case.
“I'll be seeing you later,” she called over her shoulder to Claes, opening the door.
Claes watched as it slammed behind her and listened with amusment to Triela's quick footsteps in the hall.
“Bye. Have fun.”

The room was dark, a small lamp in the corner that flickered on and off rapidly casting little light. It was cold, too. The hard concrete walls and floor didn't allow for much warmth, after all. A small girl sat huddled against the wall, wearing nothing but a pair of dirtied yellow panties. The floor around her and in the rest of the warehouse was smeared with blood and oil. Curling up into a ball, the girl sobbed onto her knees. Hot tears streamed across her filthy skin, leaving trails in the dirt. She tried not to listen to the screams of the other children on the far side of the room. Cameras flashed, video recorders rolled endless films. When she closed her eyes really tight, she could pretend that maybe she was somewhere else. Not that she'd been outside in weeks. Her eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, though the lack of light was having negative effects on her vision. The screams stopped. This didn't hearten the girl much though. Sudden silence normally meant only one of two things. They were either unconcious, or dead. And it was normally the latter. The girl uncurled, stretching her legs. It would be her turn soon, she knew. She narrowed her eyes, squinting to see what was happening on the other side of the room. They were dragging another girl's body off the mattress and out of the cameras' view. Despite herself, the girl felt her stomach tighten. They were coming for her now. Closer and closer they came, till strong masculine hands gripped her skinny arms. Hauling her upright, they dragged her away.

Claes waited a few moments before climbing down to the ground. Supposing that a stroll around the garden would be nice, she took her coat and headed for the door. The corridors were empty, as usual, and she found herself in yet more silence. It was starting to become rather lonesome. Aside from when Triela was in their room with her, Claes was almost always alone. It had never really bothered her before, but lately the quiet had become more bothersome than noise. It was a warm, sunny day out in the gardens, but still no one was about. The distant sound of gunfire told her they were all at the outdoor training range today, somewhere she wasn't allowed to be. She circled the gardens a few times before heading back to her room and slumping down on Triela's bed. Reaching over, she scooped up Augustus, one of Triela's bears. He stared at her with unseeing black eyes. She held him up above her and gave his nose a hard flick with her forefinger. His head wobbled.
“Stupid bear,” she muttered, throwing him down. “I guess I'll make some tea.”

“Oh...oh my baby...my precious baby...”
“I'm so sorry, Mrs. Johansson, there is nothing else we can do.”
“My baby...”
“Fleda...we have to listen to the doctor.”
“No! She can't be gone!”
“She isn't yet, Mrs. Johansson. But it is extremely unlikely that she will ever wake up from the coma. Her organs are starting to shut down.”
“I'm grateful for your help, Doctor Pazziani, but I'd prefer it if you didn't speak so brutally about my daughter. Especially around my wife.”
“Yes, I'm sorry Professor Johansson.”
“Fleda, I'm going to talk to the doctor a little more. Why don't you go wait outside?”
“Yes...yes...oh, my baby...”

“Triela.”
“Hm.”
“Triela.”
“Hmm.”
“TRIELA!”
“What?”
“You've hardly touched your pasta. Is something the matter?”
Triela looked up slowly, from her almost full plate to the well-presented Tautonic man seated opposite her.
“I'm sorry, sir. I just started to daydream.”
“No matter,” he replied, touching a napkin to his upper lip. “Don't force yourself to eat it, if you aren't hungry.”
“I am, actually. But you're finished already, and I don't want you to have to wait for me.”
Hillshire chuckled.
“I have to wait for you, anyway. We're going to the range right after this, remember?”
“Oh. Oh yes, silly me...”
Hillshire frowned. Folding the used napkin neatly, he cleared his throat.
“Are you sure you're alright?”
“Yeah, I told you. I'm just a bit distracted.”
Hillshire chose his next words carefully.
“Have you been...somewhat forgetful lately?”
Triela smiled slightly, though no warm touched her eyes.
“Not that I'm aware of,” she replied.
Hillshire nodded, but he did not seem entirely convinced.
“I'm going to get Doctor Bianchi to see you, later this afternoon.”
He spoke matter-of-factly, and Triela offered no retort. This only worried him more.
“You were late to lunch today.”
“Yes, I'm sorry.”
“Why was that?”
Triela smiled fondly to herself at the memory of it.
“I lost track of the time. I was busy with Claes.”
Hillshire nodded again.
“I see,” he said slowly.
He studied her across the table for a few moments.
“Finish your pasta.”
“Yes, sir.”