A/N: In this series, I find very little to muse about, since everything is very spot on...at least, with the moments and characters I was interested in. That's why I have a reluctance when it comes to this particular anime. In saying that, I have been badgered to do this particular idea for over a year now, and, I fear that I can't ward off the puppy eyes much longer. You make one statement about one of the teams and you pay for it...lol.

I do not own the Gunslinger Girl series, and honestly, with how great the series was, this will never do it justice.

I also want to make note that I intend this to be a one shot, but, we will see how it goes, sometimes my fan fictions take on a life of their own, (Thus being what some of my friends affectionately call a "Franken Fiction") sometimes they do not. It will all depend I guess. Please read and review. If you want me to turn this idea into an actual story, let me know, and I'll see what I can do.

Cyborg Mother...An end, or a new beginning?

She held the baby in her hands. His hair was so light, blond like the woman holding him. His eyes, although closed, had to have been blue. All babies have blue eyes. She wondered idly how this even happened. Well, surely she knew how, but in her mind she still couldn't believe it. They say a cyborg has a short life, she was told she would be dead by now. She wasn't. She was alive and kicking. Working for the agency for as long as she had made life somewhat dull. She no longer worked under the guidance of a handler. Not anymore. Yet, he was still around. Partners until the end it seemed, after all, he was the boy's father.

It seemed odd. She never thought she would become anything more than an attack dog. She had heard the stories of her troubled past. She was often told of the whispers about children being stolen and sold. Likely, she could have been one of them. She knew the possibility was high, but really, the only person who truly knew her fate, the only man who had ever given her bits and pieces had been Hilshire. He would get quiet, calm, and yet filled with grief whenever she had asked about her past. Eventually, she had learned to stop asking the details. For what ever reason, she didn't know, but she trusted him.

The baby in her arms twitched a little as she looked at him. Sweet little baby boy that he was. She wondered why her life panned out the way it did. Siblings...it was a complex word filled with lies. They were assassins. Masters, grown men who used little girls, trained dogs of warfare, in anything and everything. They gave the word, and the order was sent out. She hadn't been any different. If she had been a lamb stolen and repressed, she was raised as a dog and now...what was she?

Honestly, she didn't have any idea. It could have been any number of reasons. Her conditioning? That was an outcome she had willingly accepted. Was there any other reason?

She knew the answer.
Yes.
There was.
Many in fact.

Victor Hilshire acted as an older brother in more ways than one. He protected her, scolded her, and often times, he fought with her. She hadn't been all that old when she was first toting a gun, being told to fire rounds into living human beings. She could still remember her first kill, and unfortunately for her, she would always remember it. Like a haunting out of a nightmare, no matter what happened, she wouldn't ever be able to rid herself of the image. That night, and the weeks after, he took pity on her. As if he really had been her brother, he held her in his arms, rocked her heavy body gently, covered her with a blanket, waited for her to fall asleep.

Back then, while other handlers had meaningless sex with their girls, or doted on them as if they were their daughters, Victor was likely the most brotherly of them all. As she got older, she realized she liked him, and slowly she learned the truth. He wasn't her enemy. They were in this together. Every dead body she claimed became another day of work. Every single mission became only another task, a way of life for them. All they ever understood. There were times she came up short, and Hilshire wasn't perfect, but in the end they loaded their guns and looked out for each other. At that point, they were no longer siblings, they were partners. He had even told her that on many occasions.

Perhaps it was her way of thinking. She could admit, she often challenged the man at anything and everything she could. He was gentle with her, yet very firm. It left her confused on more than one occasion. That was just how things worked. Conditioning was her life blood. She depended on the injections for many things. Body functions that if she would honest, she couldn't give a rat's ass about. In the end, it was Victor who gave her the warm soul needed to survive. He had made her into a stronger person, a worthy individual. He must have done something right, because on her seventeenth birthday, she became the first cyborg able to function without the orders of a handler.

Then she aged into the trying times of being a young adult. When her periods began to stabilize she realized she was a woman. Unfortunately for her, she wasn't completely able to understand why the men in the agency harassed her. They would cop a feel each time she passed the halls, make cat calls and wolf whistles, and offer themselves as bedfellows. She should be getting old, and often many told her that her time was coming soon. Hilshire refused to believe them. He kept her in the field. Still to this very day, at the age of twenty, she could still fire a gun. She was still part of the agency, still in the running.

She was still alive.

She never knew she could carry a child. It hadn't ever occurred that she would ever be able to birth a healthy baby. Being cybernetic put a level of strain on her body, as it did with all of the girls. Somehow, it happened. She wasn't going to question it. A blessing or damnation she still wasn't sure, but she felt the need to love and care for this little one. She hadn't been willing to abort pregnancy, even if that's what they had all told her to do. Hilshire didn't like the idea of putting her through danger, still she wanted to carry it. He wasn't going to stop her. Now, she wanted to raise it, and again, he refused to stop her. Jean wasn't in the least bit pleased, but it wasn't his jurisdiction. He couldn't order her to let the baby go.

Her mechanical body was a killing machine. Never in her life had she amused the ideas of being soft and warm. She hadn't remembered her mother, although she liked to pretend and dream about it a lot. She could remember a blond haired woman, a memory she honestly couldn't place. That woman must have loved her, and now she understood why. Months ago a mission went very wrong. She found a lamb just like herself. Once again Victor Hilshire became lost within a past she hadn't been told about, one only he had known fully. She had seen bloody, horrific situations pan out into a glorified death. But this, she shook her head, that night wasn't one to relive.

It was however the very same night that she slept with him. Once, only once. That was all it took. A moment of brief insanity, a night filled with unsettling tears, and his arms. However, his arms weren't so large now. His body wasn't soothing like an older brother. She wanted to cry, and she did many times, but this time she felt that urge. Something she had heard about, seen in the books and movies, but never had the chance to fully understand it. She kissed him and from there he took over. She had heard of lust on the battle filed, many of the girls and their handlers had gone so far. She never had, not until that night.

Her first kiss, her first time. She hadn't stopped his advances, in fact, she egged them on, provoking more of him. Sending him open an invitation when she broke the kiss. She knew he was hesitant to push anything. The words she had spoken weakened his last defenses. "You aren't my brother Victor." She never used his first name, ever, not until that night. "We aren't real siblings, and I'm a consenting adult." Her breast were full, voluptuous, and she remembered how gently he caressed them when she had placed his hand there. That was when his resolve snapped, and, honestly, neither of them would regret it.

It was only that night though.

It would only ever be that one night. They couldn't do that again, wouldn't do it again. Still, she loved him as only she could. As only she understood. What was conditioning and what was her real emotions would always have a level of mystery, but she knew that he wasn't conditioned. He wouldn't ever be injected with that medication, would never be brainwashed like she was...and yet, he had chosen her. Hadn't ever given up on her. She knew that had to count for something. He didn't ever strike her, though lord knew he wished he could have on several occasions. He never used her like some of the men did their girls. He always cared about her. That night, it just went further than partnership.

Her son was a product of her love for him. Even if how much remained a question she would never really know. She could hear footsteps along the hallway and smiled. She knew that strut. The click of his shoes were different from others. The walk was fast, and was followed by a pair of smaller, quicker steps. He stopped at her door, the hardened look in his eyes softening only a fraction. Natural born killers like him rarely got soft. He wasn't Jose, he wouldn't ever be quite that gentle. Still, he was contented, and back from his mission no doubt.

"Triela." His voice was soft as he entered her room. This was the first time seeing the child. Flesh and blood, this boy wasn't a cyborg. It was a gentle creature who seemed more intent on sleeping than paying attention to the man standing over him. The baby squinted his eyes closed further, not really caring one way or the other. "Have you given him a name?" His tone while caring held a level of formality, as if a wall separated the both of them, but in some ways that still held true.

"I thought that was your job." Her voice was light with amusement.
"He'll already be stuck with my last name. You should pick." In all honesty, Victor wasn't one for names.
"I'm not all together sure." She looked back at the sleeping boy. "This is all still surreal."
"I'm sure it is." It was for him too.

"I've been taken off team two." Triela sighed deeply.
"As you should be, you're a mother now." He laughed at the look that gave him.
"My guns are my life." They both knew the importance of that statement.
"So you won't give him away?" Ferro stepped into the room, she, despite her often cold stare cared a lot for the cyborgs.

She looked at the baby, still a newborn, not even a few days old. She knew what everyone else wanted, but... "No." It was a simple answer, but it was filled with soft defiance. "I can't." She couldn't explain her feelings well, but, if she had to describe it, she felt more deeply for the baby than for victor. She didn't think it would be possible, but it was. "He's my child, and it's my job to protect him." Her mechanical body cradled him gently, and she felt at ease, something she hardly felt at a teen. All seemed right with her life right now, and this baby was part of that. "I'll raise him here, at the agency."

"He would have a better life on the outside." Ferro just couldn't understand.

"So you say." Triela didn't know. She didn't fully believe that. "I was a child out there too once, wasn't I? Before I came here, I was out there, and some bad things happened." She looked out her window. The sky was blue, the air was fresh, and a few cyborgs had been gathered around the garden. "I know the darkness of what's beyond these walls, but very rarely do I see any good. Here, at least I know this life, I know what he will see, what he may have to witness. It's my life, and Victor's. This is all we do in our lives, and now we have a son who can also be apart of that. Wouldn't it be cruel to just throw a child away, especially when his parents are both right here?"

That was the argument, and Triela was sticking with it. She wouldn't give up her child. Never in a million years. Ferro could see the instinct there. Something more than just a cyborg acting on conditioning alone. She sighed. "Well, I was worried you'd say that." She put down her briefcase on the windowsill opening the lid. A folder was then placed on the bed. "You'll need to look this over. You will not be allowed to leave the agency, so, you must find new work here. I'm sorry, but, it's the best offer I have."

"Enough of this for now." Hilshire stepped between the two women, grabbing the folder, tucking it under his arm. "We can discuss that little matter later. I have someone I'd like you both to meet."
"Really?" Triela looked up, she knew what this was about. "Is it the new girl?"
"Yes." He turned back, looking at the door. "Come here please."

She walked in then. Yes this was the girl. Victor Hilshire was a glutton for punishment. That much was for sure. She was the little lamb, lost and without a home. "She's my new sister, just got out of the conditioning floor yesterday." Green eyes searched the woman in front of her as she hid behind her handler. This place was new, and she couldn't say she liked it much. Unlike most of the other women and girls here, she couldn't say she much liked the idea of staying by the side of this man either. "Her name is Vita, and, as far as official records show, she's my child. Apparently, I have a knack for picking up problem children."

"Well, that would make sense. You raised me after all." Triela's statement was followed with a smile at the younger girl. She knew what it was like, being on the other end of that angry stare. "Here, take your son." She offered, handing off the small bundle in her arms. This was the first time he had held the boy. It was as if a sense of unease had come over him, a magic that she hadn't ever seen in his eyes. Father and son. "Why not go parade around in the halls. I know the girls want to see him." Hilshire nodded, heading off in search of the other section two girls. They were the only real family this baby would ever have, and it was a sad truth in its own little way.

Still, she watched as the little girl didn't leave, staying, instead of following her handler. Her eyes were a blank stare. She was without hope still. As if her mind would not control itself. Without her handler there, she wouldn't likely see any rays of light within the dreary life being partly mechanical offered. "I take it you don't like him." Triela whispered only half joking. She knew that partly, Victor was to blame for that.

"I don't really know." The little girl sighed staring down at the floor. "I don't understand. He's not like the others."

"Not like the...oh..." Triela looked out of the open door. "Who else have you met?"
"Everyone." Vita averted her eyes then, she could hear yelling.
"The new teams must all be assembled then." looking at the door she shook her head.

Jean was yelling as he strut past the door, angry as he yanked a little girl by the arm. Another one off the new line no doubt. Rico trailed behind, calling after him, worried as he continued on his rampage. Henrietta wasn't far behind as she and Jose went rushing to catch up. "Some things never change." This was home. She realized that her past wasn't something to dive into, but soon, she too would be helping around the agency. "So, Vita, are you a type one, or a type two?" At that she saw the younger girl shake her head.

"Experimental type three." Vita answered in monotone.
"Type three?" Triela asked looked up at Ferro a question in her eyes.

"The new Famiglia have been created. It isn't just about siblings anymore." Ferro answered softly. "She isn't only the responsibility of Hilshire. She's yours as well. You found her after all."

3 Years Later.
_

Famiglia... It's Italian, meaning family. We aren't one of blood. Not all of us anyway. It isn't exactly a lie...but I wouldn't call it the truth either. No... It's the nearest thing we have to reality. Some of us are human, rather, some of us are more human than others. Every team has at least three members, some have even more than that. Either way, I guess you could say, we don't really care what we are. If we're cyborg, or if we're human, we don't question it. We just are. If we didn't, where would we be? I can't honestly say I know. Sometimes though, I wish it was more than just a job, more than just on assignments. Then I look around, and I realize, it is. It really is.

Famiglia teams are build up of strong bonds, some bound by blood relations themselves. I can't say I know where this life will lead me, or how long I have left. I don't really care either. My son, he's three now. Soon, he'll learn to do what I do. Kill people, take orders, live a life undefined. Is that a good thing? Again, I don't have the answer. If I did, or the one I wish I have, is yes. My son, he will be alright, just like his daddy, and a lot like me. You don't need implants and steel parts to do our job... he won't either.

Oh, and about those experimental types, the third generational cyborgs, They'll be alright... Life, well our life as we know it anyway, it'll go on.

Famiglia... it is the truth, mine anyway.