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whiskeycoffeeTitle: (Only)
Author: m.jules
Fandom: Gunslinger Girl
Character: Henrietta (Giuse/Henrietta)
Rating: Teen for themes
Disclaimer: Gunslinger Girl and its characters and concept does not belong to me and I make no money from this fanwork.
Summary: When you work for the National Social Welfare Agency, life can take you by storm.
Warnings: Manga-verse, possibly incomplete understanding of the universe on part of the author, possible loli (underage het) squick, violence, spoilers for the 3 manga volumes released in the US. Self-beta'd.
Prompt Used: SPRING: A willow in a windstorm (![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
4purposes
The night after they learned of Elsa’s death, he couldn’t sleep. He lay awake, tortured and tormented, wondering what they had done to these girls. They had made the cyborgs feel deeper, more complex emotions than they had intended; chemically induced loyalty morphed into love and Giuse couldn’t say whether he’d earned Henrietta’s devotion (though he liked to think he had) or whether she had been conditioned to fall in love with him.
He tried to deserve it; tried to live up to the impossible image of him she held in her heart. He wondered if (no, he knew) that meant he was in love with her, too.
When she’s older, he would tell himself, then wonder when that would be. How could he define “older”? Her body never aged and she lost memories like sand through an hourglass every time they put her through the conditioning. He kept her away from the brainwashing as much as possible, not just because it would shorten her lifespan but because he was afraid that she would forget. Not him; they would condition her all over again to know and recognize him, to feel the same things toward him that she did now. But she might forget the night he’d given her the fancy red coat, the night he’d taken her up onto the roof to go stargazing.
She might forget the way he’d said her name a dozen times, the way he caught her when her foot slipped, the way he touched her, looked at her, smiled at her; all the little moments that built their history together. He didn’t want her to forget.
It wasn’t fair to make her fall in love with him when she would never be old enough for him to love. (He ignored the fact that he did anyway.)
A soft sound in the doorway of his bedroom alerted him to the tiny silhouette that stood there, illuminated in the dim moonlight that filtered through the curtains.
“Henrietta?” He pushed himself up in bed, worry tightening his stomach. “Is everything okay?”
She shook her head softly, her hair swinging around her face, and it was painful how very young she looked. How young she was.
“What’s wrong?”
“I… Giuse, I want…” She fidgeted, looking down at her feet, and he could imagine the flush on her cheeks, the one that always blossomed whenever she asked him for something. “I want to sleep with you.”
He nearly choked; his throat closed off and his chest constricted as the world spun crazily for a moment. She doesn’t know, he told himself. She doesn’t mean… Still, even the literal interpretation of that statement was improper. Like bringing her to your family home in Sicily on vacation isn’t.
“Henrietta, I don’t think…”
“Giuse, please,” she interrupted, her head coming up to fix him with her wide eyes, the whites of them barely visible in the half light. He had a sudden vision of one of those eyes missing, blood pouring out from the socket, and a dark red pool forming under her shattered skull. “Please.”
“You know we can’t do this once we get back to the agency,” he murmured, defeated, as he slid over to make room for her on the mattress. She was running toward the bed before he even finished his sentence. Of course, he knew she wouldn’t have asked if they’d been at the agency. Here in Sicily, with no one to interfere or tell him he was coddling her too much, things were different. “They wouldn’t like it.”
“I know,” she whispered happily as she slipped between the covers, easy and graceful, looking for all the world like the little girl he tried to tell himself she was (wasn’t).
She curled up beside him and he tried to ignore the way his heart skipped when she wrapped both of her arms around his, pressing her face into his shoulder and breathing deep. He told himself then and forever afterwards that he didn’t turn onto his side and cradle her to his chest, that he didn’t linger to inhale her perfume – the perfume he’d bought her – when he kissed the top of her head. And most of all, he told himself that she was only a child and he was only her brother.
Author: m.jules
Fandom: Gunslinger Girl
Character: Henrietta (Giuse/Henrietta)
Rating: Teen for themes
Disclaimer: Gunslinger Girl and its characters and concept does not belong to me and I make no money from this fanwork.
Summary: When you work for the National Social Welfare Agency, life can take you by storm.
Warnings: Manga-verse, possibly incomplete understanding of the universe on part of the author, possible loli (underage het) squick, violence, spoilers for the 3 manga volumes released in the US. Self-beta'd.
Prompt Used: SPRING: A willow in a windstorm (
4purposesThe night after they learned of Elsa’s death, he couldn’t sleep. He lay awake, tortured and tormented, wondering what they had done to these girls. They had made the cyborgs feel deeper, more complex emotions than they had intended; chemically induced loyalty morphed into love and Giuse couldn’t say whether he’d earned Henrietta’s devotion (though he liked to think he had) or whether she had been conditioned to fall in love with him.
He tried to deserve it; tried to live up to the impossible image of him she held in her heart. He wondered if (no, he knew) that meant he was in love with her, too.
When she’s older, he would tell himself, then wonder when that would be. How could he define “older”? Her body never aged and she lost memories like sand through an hourglass every time they put her through the conditioning. He kept her away from the brainwashing as much as possible, not just because it would shorten her lifespan but because he was afraid that she would forget. Not him; they would condition her all over again to know and recognize him, to feel the same things toward him that she did now. But she might forget the night he’d given her the fancy red coat, the night he’d taken her up onto the roof to go stargazing.
She might forget the way he’d said her name a dozen times, the way he caught her when her foot slipped, the way he touched her, looked at her, smiled at her; all the little moments that built their history together. He didn’t want her to forget.
It wasn’t fair to make her fall in love with him when she would never be old enough for him to love. (He ignored the fact that he did anyway.)
A soft sound in the doorway of his bedroom alerted him to the tiny silhouette that stood there, illuminated in the dim moonlight that filtered through the curtains.
“Henrietta?” He pushed himself up in bed, worry tightening his stomach. “Is everything okay?”
She shook her head softly, her hair swinging around her face, and it was painful how very young she looked. How young she was.
“What’s wrong?”
“I… Giuse, I want…” She fidgeted, looking down at her feet, and he could imagine the flush on her cheeks, the one that always blossomed whenever she asked him for something. “I want to sleep with you.”
He nearly choked; his throat closed off and his chest constricted as the world spun crazily for a moment. She doesn’t know, he told himself. She doesn’t mean… Still, even the literal interpretation of that statement was improper. Like bringing her to your family home in Sicily on vacation isn’t.
“Henrietta, I don’t think…”
“Giuse, please,” she interrupted, her head coming up to fix him with her wide eyes, the whites of them barely visible in the half light. He had a sudden vision of one of those eyes missing, blood pouring out from the socket, and a dark red pool forming under her shattered skull. “Please.”
“You know we can’t do this once we get back to the agency,” he murmured, defeated, as he slid over to make room for her on the mattress. She was running toward the bed before he even finished his sentence. Of course, he knew she wouldn’t have asked if they’d been at the agency. Here in Sicily, with no one to interfere or tell him he was coddling her too much, things were different. “They wouldn’t like it.”
“I know,” she whispered happily as she slipped between the covers, easy and graceful, looking for all the world like the little girl he tried to tell himself she was (wasn’t).
She curled up beside him and he tried to ignore the way his heart skipped when she wrapped both of her arms around his, pressing her face into his shoulder and breathing deep. He told himself then and forever afterwards that he didn’t turn onto his side and cradle her to his chest, that he didn’t linger to inhale her perfume – the perfume he’d bought her – when he kissed the top of her head. And most of all, he told himself that she was only a child and he was only her brother.
no subject
Date: 2007-01-22 07:39 pm (UTC)