FIC: Good Soldiers Never Die (Gunslinger Girl, Henrietta & Jose gen)
Title: Good Soldiers Never Die
Author: unrequitedangst
Fandom: Gunslinger Girl
Rating: G
Disclaimer: They aren't mine.
Summary: "I got twelve kills this month," says Henrietta, eyes wide and hopeful. (Henrietta & Jose gen, 475 words)
Notes: Written for 31_days with the prompt, 'A school of morality'.
"I got twelve kills this month," says Henrietta, eyes wide and hopeful, and her feet are tucked daintily backwards in the chair where she sits. There is a bright, bright ribbon in her hair that Jose does not recognize; it makes her look younger than the eleven years that she celebrated two months ago. That's to be expected, though. These children, they all look younger than they truly are. "More than Triela or Rico."
Many of his colleagues envy him, Jose knows. Henrietta is a good girl, and their partnership is one of the most respected in the Section; she shoots well and efficiently and despite her problems with emotional control, she has had a ninety-three percent mission success rate thus far.
"You do not feel ill in any way?" Bianchi questions. "You still have a good appetite, you haven’t been sick at all?"
"Oh, no," Henrietta replies promptly. "I feel fine, Dr. Bianchi. Jose makes sure I take good care of myself."
"Oh, he does?"
Jose doesn’t have to look to know the small, amused smile that must be lurking in the corner of Bianchi’s mouth. Soft Jose, the other handlers say behind his back, Jose is soft on Henrietta, and even he knows it’s true. He loves her like she was his own sister, though he shouldn't -- Henrietta is a good girl, a clever one.
It is very hard for Jose to remember, sometimes, that there is a chip inside her head and silicon in her veins.
"He's a good handler," Henrietta says. "I'm not sick, Doctor."
Bianchi nods, makes notations on his pad file, and Jose turns to go. The rest of this interview will be the sickening part; Jose does not want to be here for that. Henrietta is well, and that was and is all he wants to know: that her memory has not started to go, that her mind has not yet started to collapse in upon itself as so many of the other girls' minds have.
Angelica felt fine, though, even up until the very end.
She killed four men on their last mission, Henrietta. Drilled a bullet through each forehead, because Henrietta is a very good shot, and when the cleanup crews came along to clean up the mess, Jean congratulated Jose on how far the two of them had come. A good handler, Jean said, a successful mission, and no matter how much Jose has tried to stop it, the faint pride was there, ephemeral and heady as always -- his girl, his Henrietta, with bloodstains on her skirt.
As Jose leaves, he can hear the faint sound of Henrietta's voice behind him, justifying how many people she killed on their last mission. Or extolling, rather, because justifying is not the right word at all, and Henrietta is a good girl, but a better soldier.
Author: unrequitedangst
Fandom: Gunslinger Girl
Rating: G
Disclaimer: They aren't mine.
Summary: "I got twelve kills this month," says Henrietta, eyes wide and hopeful. (Henrietta & Jose gen, 475 words)
Notes: Written for 31_days with the prompt, 'A school of morality'.
"I got twelve kills this month," says Henrietta, eyes wide and hopeful, and her feet are tucked daintily backwards in the chair where she sits. There is a bright, bright ribbon in her hair that Jose does not recognize; it makes her look younger than the eleven years that she celebrated two months ago. That's to be expected, though. These children, they all look younger than they truly are. "More than Triela or Rico."
Many of his colleagues envy him, Jose knows. Henrietta is a good girl, and their partnership is one of the most respected in the Section; she shoots well and efficiently and despite her problems with emotional control, she has had a ninety-three percent mission success rate thus far.
"You do not feel ill in any way?" Bianchi questions. "You still have a good appetite, you haven’t been sick at all?"
"Oh, no," Henrietta replies promptly. "I feel fine, Dr. Bianchi. Jose makes sure I take good care of myself."
"Oh, he does?"
Jose doesn’t have to look to know the small, amused smile that must be lurking in the corner of Bianchi’s mouth. Soft Jose, the other handlers say behind his back, Jose is soft on Henrietta, and even he knows it’s true. He loves her like she was his own sister, though he shouldn't -- Henrietta is a good girl, a clever one.
It is very hard for Jose to remember, sometimes, that there is a chip inside her head and silicon in her veins.
"He's a good handler," Henrietta says. "I'm not sick, Doctor."
Bianchi nods, makes notations on his pad file, and Jose turns to go. The rest of this interview will be the sickening part; Jose does not want to be here for that. Henrietta is well, and that was and is all he wants to know: that her memory has not started to go, that her mind has not yet started to collapse in upon itself as so many of the other girls' minds have.
Angelica felt fine, though, even up until the very end.
She killed four men on their last mission, Henrietta. Drilled a bullet through each forehead, because Henrietta is a very good shot, and when the cleanup crews came along to clean up the mess, Jean congratulated Jose on how far the two of them had come. A good handler, Jean said, a successful mission, and no matter how much Jose has tried to stop it, the faint pride was there, ephemeral and heady as always -- his girl, his Henrietta, with bloodstains on her skirt.
As Jose leaves, he can hear the faint sound of Henrietta's voice behind him, justifying how many people she killed on their last mission. Or extolling, rather, because justifying is not the right word at all, and Henrietta is a good girl, but a better soldier.