Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop cries and any characters henceforth belong to...well...those who own Bebop. Also, the lyrics in the summary are from a song called Lithium by Evanescence.
Thanks go out to Elenea Galad for reading this even though she's never seen Bebop, and most especially to Mizuu because...well 'sides from her being an amazing friend...and generally all out amazing anyways, she supported me with this story and took the time to read it. To you, my dear, I dedicate this story. Thanks guys! Means a lot! Also dedicated to all those fantastical Bebop authors out there like Cassandra and Sidewalk Serfer Girl and so many others for their own inspiring stories. Hope you enjoy!
Blackness filled his mind. He couldn't move, so he just let himself fall into the nothingness that surrounded him. Was this what death felt like? Was this it then? Was he dead? He had thought there'd be more to it than this, not that he expected a white light or anything; he wasn't really the religious type and he never really believed in God-but still, this, this was just disappointing! Maybe this was hell then; he was cursed to spend the rest of eternity reflecting on his life, of all the blood he'd spilt just to gain a quick buck, of all the people he'd hurt…of Julia.
Even in death he couldn't be with her and this infuriated him more than anything. He never believed there was a heaven, and he never expected he'd ever see her again. He thought he'd die and that would be the end of it, but being aware of his surroundings, being conscious in a matter of speaking, and knowing she wasn't with him, was enough to make him scream out his hatred for whatever it was that kept them apart, and he would have to, if he was able to move. Yeah, God or whatever "powers that be" had a fucked up sense of humor.
It was over. Bodies lay strewn amongst the rubble that had once been the great building of the Red Dragons' Syndicate headquarters. Smoke curled its way up to the heavens from barely quenched fires and sirens sounded in the distance. Nothing stirred. There was no movement, no sign of life in the whole area, nothing except a lone figure standing amidst the shadows cast by the setting sun.
A young woman wearing nothing but black save for the silver bands that wrapped around her thighs like belt straps stood watching the scene before her. She was the embodiment of shadow: her raven hair darker than night itself, shimmering with a silvery white at the tips. Her grey-blue eyes shone with a dark amusement as she watched the events unfold, and if one watched closely, they would swear those steely eyes changed colors.
She watched as the man with the green hair made his way into the guarded building, listened to the distracting commotion going on within, and witnessed the green- haired man exit. She smirked, ever-changing eyes gleaming with a rare amusement as she witnessed what appeared to be the man's last words.
He had limped down the many steps towards what remained of the Syndicate men, hands clasped tightly over a heavily bleeding wound to his abdomen, and she watched as he removed one hand and formed it in the shape of a gun. His words were merely a statement carried to her ears by the wind.
"Bang." Was all he said before falling to the ground to join the other bodies. She found herself wondering what kind of man he was. To have created such chaos only to come out of it with a dark humor she'd rarely experienced intrigued her. He seemed an interesting character, but that single word seemed to have been his last. Pity she thought, it might have been interesting to have met him. The sirens came closer by the minute, and finally she was able to tear her eyes away from the bloody scene before her. It seemed she wouldn't be paid tonight, and she turned away, silently cursing her luck and this unlucky string of events before disappearing into the darkness she seemed to be born of.
Her body shook from the effort of holding back her sobs. She wasn't sure when it happened, but somehow she'd found herself in her room. Now she lay on her bed, tears wetting her pillow as they spilled from her eyes.
She could already feel the loss. The damned lunkhead had gone and thrown his life away, she was sure of it. All that shit that had spilt from his mouth like a waterfall about not going there to die but to find out if he was really alive was nothing but bullshit. Poetic- surprising considering the person whose mouth spoke the words- but bullshit nonetheless. She had choked back the sobs that were already wreaking havoc on her body with the effort to hold them back, to keep them contained.
She was suppose to be indifferent, she wasn't suppose to care if he stayed or went off to die; it was how she acted, how she always acted and she'd be damned if she broke now, but she could feel the mask she wore so carefully cracking. As his steps took him further and further away from her and closer to an unknown darkness that she swore was going to swallow him up, she found herself caring, actually caring that he might not be coming back this time. And damned be the Gods it hurt like hell. With this new fear stabbing at her painfully, she watched as her already cracked mask fell to the floor, crashing like glass until it was only a pile of porcelain shards sharp enough to cut, and he used them as a weapon against her with each step he took, sending shard after shard into her already breaking heart.
She wasn't quite sure what he had become; A friend? A brother? She hadn't had much experience with either to really differentiate, none that she could remember anyways. She wanted to explore this new feeling, this sensation of camaraderie that suddenly seemed different than what it was before, but he had to go off and get himself killed before she could figure it out. Damn him! She hoped he was burning in hell for all the pain he was causing her, for all the pain he'd ever caused her.
It was like it was all a fucking game to him, something he did for fun whenever he was bored as he sank his nails into her as far as he could, trying to get a reaction out of her. She never realized how far his nails had sunk until now. Never realized how much he hurt her until now, and she had done the only thing she could think of in return. Shooting off round after round until her gun clicked, signaling the empty of her magazine. It didn't slow him down, she knew it wouldn't, but had to do it anyways. Had to show him how much he was hurting her, and even after he was gone, after all her bullets were spent, she stood there, sobbing silently until somehow managing to make it to her room.
A large branch complete with spiky needles fell to the floor, followed by a groan and a curse from the one whose hand held the clippers. I'm butchering them Jet thought as he looked at his precious Bonsai trees, Damn that Spike!
His mind was reeling with thoughts that he didn't want to think about, but that wasn't going so well, the bonsai trees were proof of that. He had gone to the room with the hope tending to his trees would clear his mind. At the moment however, his thoughts alternated between cursing Spike and his recklessness and kicking himself for telling him to go in the first place. Faye had been right, and that thought alone was enough to make him clip off one of the primary branches of his most beautiful of work.
Curse them all! He absently ran his prosthetic hand over his balding head, closing his eyes and sighing. After a moment he reluctantly got up, abandoning his bonsai trees to the dark of the corridors. Roaming through the dark halls of his ship, he eventually found himself in the "living room".
After a quick check he wasn't surprised to see the room deserted. He felt a pang in his heart as he gazed at the empty ugly yellow couch, not really expecting Spike to be there, but feeling the regret nonetheless. The broad was also absent, he noted. Probably still in her room.
She'd locked herself in it earlier that night, soon after Spike had left, and he realized that this was going to be hard on her. Briefly he wondered just what the guy had meant to her, but then brushed the thought aside guiltily as he realized he was a friend, a comrade, and she had possibly just lost both.
The sliding of a door made him jump, and looking up he met the emerald green eyes of Faye. The anguish in her eyes was enough to make him gasp, but it was nothing compared to the pain in her voice. She turned her gaze from him to the yellow couch, and he could swear he could see her breaking right in front of him.
"I was hoping it was a dream…" She croaked her voice hoarse and shaky from the tears she had shed these past few hours, from the tears she was holding back now.
"Faye…" he whispered, and he had to rub his good arm along his fake one to keep from reaching out for her. He never could stand to see a woman cry, and Faye, despite the tough exterior, was a woman clearly on the brink of tears.
She wasn't having any of it though. Her eyes sharpened, suddenly focused as she sent a glare at Jet, as if something inside her had suddenly snapped back into place. And just like that she was Faye again, ready and willing to bitch at the first thing that moved. Jet took a step back, surprised by the sudden change in her, but at the same time relieved. At least he knew she wouldn't be held down by this, at least he knew it wouldn't fuck her up and he was grateful because any distraction in their line of business could end their life.
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