Page 96 of Gunslinger Girl
“It’s not nothing!” She kicked the pack. “What are you doing?”
He straightened, his features hardening. “Something I should have done a long time ago. I’m leaving Cessation.”
“The hell you are!”
Startled by the pure ferocity, Max dropped the brush. He took a step back before catching himself. “Go away, Pity. I don’t know why you’re here in the first place, but go away. And if you care at all, keep this to yourself until I’m long gone.”
She held her ground. “I’m not going anywhere,” she said, her tone like chipped porcelain, “and neither are you until you tell me why.”
“I…” Max shook his head. “I can’t.” But his voice wavered.
She stared at him, fists clenched. Then she went to the wall and dragged her palm across it.
“Don’t!” He lunged at her, grabbing her wrist, but it was too late. The beginning of his note was obliterated.
“Why did you do that?” he cried. “Why… why are you here?” He released her, face crumpling with pain. “Dammit, Pity, why do you always turn up right when I’m trying to leave?”
The blaze within her flickered out. A stifling silence rose between them, so thick that Pity’s ribs began to ache. She fought for each breath as she stood steadfast before Max, equally bewildered and torn apart by the battle raging within her, the one that had driven her here in the first place.
An agonizing minute ticked by.
Only when she’d made her decision did the air seem to lighten.
She went over to the door and closed it.
“What are you—?”
“Please, just listen.” Her back still to him, she leaned against the cool metal, trying to slow her pounding heart. “I made a deal with Selene.”
Another moment of quiet passed. “What… what kind of deal?”
She turned toward him. “One where I’d hang off Sheridan’s arm, pretend to be the reason he was back in Cessation.” Once she began, she knew there was no going back. The words tumbled out of her. “Do you understand? It’s not real—a misdirection, in case whoever sent the assassins for Selene tries again.”
Max’s brow pinched with confusion. “But Daneko—”
“Was working with someone in the east. Sheridan thinks he was a target, too. He hasn’t given up on being president, and Selene needs an alliance with him in order to protect the city. I agreed to play my part, and in exchange…” She swallowed, her mouth dry with anxiety. “I’d never have to do another Finale.”
“This is about the Finales?”
She nodded. “I wanted to tell you, but Selene ordered me not to.”
At this, he paled. “Pity, you shouldn’t have—”
“I know. But back in the Gallery… and yesterday… the way you kept looking at me…” She couldn’t finish.
Across the room, Max went as still as stone. An invisible maelstrom of emotion seemed to envelop him as he worked to parse her confession, an echo of his earlier affliction in the Gallery. Unable to watch it, her attention fell on the traveling pack. She was anxious to know what he’d meant earlier about leaving, but too petrified of the answer to ask.
Max took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was with a determined air.
Her heart leapt as he reached for the pack…
… and stopped. He straightened again, resolve shifting to desperation.
Instead, he took a step toward her.
Driven by her own longing, she closed the distance between them, paint-stained fingers curling into his shirt as she pressed her face against his shoulder. The scent of him filled her: paint, linseed oil, an earthy warmth like wheat fields baking in the summer sun. The mix went to her head, better than any drug or drink, so much so that at first she didn’t feel his arms close around her.
“Pity…”
