This story was haunting my dreams, making me have horrible nightmares for a while. I didn't want to write it, I really didn't. But... I hope by doing this it will leave my mind forever. I don't like it, I hate it! Not because it's a crap writing, but because of what happens in it.

Im sorry. I'm so sorry.

Disclaimer; I don't own Noir. If I did then this would never happen.

Fleeting Dreams.

The house is quiet. The sound of nothing is oppressing. But it is her medium, her realm. A man is ahead, She can see his shadow, a slight lightening in the darkness. He is not looking her way. The gun kicks in her hand, the silencer robbing the bullet of sound as it hits him and he tumbles. Like a felled tree. There are no other sounds, no one has heard this angel of death pass by.

The target will soon be ahead. It is always the same, always immaterial. They need not know why, he is the target and that has always been enough for her. She smiled as she thought that this would soon be over. Soon they could leave this place, and it's death. And once again Kirika could spend time with the woman she loved. Her face lit up.

She could already picture the tall blonde's smile, the sparkle in her blue eyes as her hair fell like silk around her shoulders. Framing her oval face in all it's beauty. Tonight was the night, Kirika knew it. She had it planned. Tonight was the night she told Mireille how she truly felt.

In truth she was a little frightened of the reaction she might receive. She was fairly sure that Mireille felt the same. She had dropped little hints, and why else would she have risked her life for her? No, it was the fear of rejection that ate at her, even though she was sure it would not come. Another man attacked, he died. She stepped over his body, her face not losing it's bright smile as she imagined Mireille's smile.

She knocked open the next door, her gun firing three times. Three men fell dead, one who was kneeling over a form on the floor. Kirika walked up to it, her smile still in place. It was the figure of a woman, perfectly still, her short black skirt and her red top stained with blood.

"Mireille, you can get up now." She commented lightly. There was no response from her love. "Mireille...?" The smile faltered. She knelt down.

"Mireille? Mireille!" She repeated, this time louder. Kirika rolled her over, bringing the blonde's body up against her lap. The face was pale...

"Mireille..." She breathed, touching her fingers to her partner's face. It was cold. She traced her finger down the cheek as she felt her heart break. "No...no... you can't! Mireille come back. Come back to me, I need you, I love you. There I said it, I've told you how I feel you have to come back to me now." There was still no response from her lover.

Kirika felt her eyes moisten, the tears stinging her eyes as they slipped from her. Sliding down her cheeks where they met at her chin. This couldn't be happening... it couldn't be... not now. Not when Kirika was so close to telling her...

"Mireille please don't leave me! I love you, I love you. Don't leave me before I even get a chance to tell you." Kirika let out a sob. "Please..." She drew the face against her breast, cradling it to herself as she cried loudly. The sobs racking her body as she let the tears fall from her.

"It wasn't supposed to happen like this Mireille. Not like this. I wanted to spend so long with you, to be with you forever. To grow old with you, to be with you always." She wiped her eyes on her sleeve. "You always say I don't talk enough, well I'm talking now, I hope you're listening." Her hands moved in a blur as she dismantled and began to reassemble her Beretta.

"Can you remember when we first met? I can. When you came to Japan for me and promised to kill me when it was all over... I believed you, but you never did. Even when I asked you to you refused. And when at the end you stood with me before the manor. When you came to my rescue and protected me... That was the highest point of my life. I realised I loved you, I promised your mother I would protect you. It seems I've failed at that. Heh, you always said an assassin cannot keep hold of those they love. I guess you were right, you always were." She was ambling, the sobs no longer came but the tears had not stopped.

Kirika leaned down and kissed Mireille lightly on the lips, shivering at the lack of heat she found there. Her gun was as good as new.

"I can remember every moment of ours together. Every smile, every frown. Every laugh every tear. It's all locked in my memory. I never did find out who I used to be, but I've realise that it doesn't matter anymore. I am with you and that's all I ever wanted."

She brought forth a new clip and snapped it into her gun, slowly snapping it back to chamber a round. One would be all that was needed.

"I wanted to tell you so much tonight. To tell you how I loved you, and how whether you returned my feelings or not, I would love you forever, and always protect you." Maybe she was imagining it, but she almost thought she could see Mireille smiling. Just an innocent curl to the woman's now blue lips.

"I know there may be no heaven for people like us, and certainly not for me. But maybe we'll se each other gain someday. Somewhere. I know you wouldn't want me to, I know you would want me to live a happy life. But without you there is no life. I'm so sorry. I can hear them coming Mireille. I can hear them. Their footsteps are loud but I don't care. There's no more tears now, can you see? No tears. I have nothing here I'm going to be leaving behind after all." The footsteps were louder, the sounds of many feet pounding towards her. She didn't care, the gun barrel rested against the side of her head.

"I'm so sorry Mireille. I... love you.. I really do. I'll be with you soon. Wherever you are, I'll find you, I promise."

-BANG-

This has to be the most horrible thing I have ever written. Please feel free to flame me, but remember I don't want this. Just imagine having this scene play through your head for the last four nights, haunting my dreams. It was far more vivid in my dreams, it's hard to write it to paper.

I will never write a Tragedy again. Please don't ask me to, for it shall never be done.