A/N: Hey guys! This is just a little one-shot I wrote between Geometry problems. I actually really like it, even though the entire thing is completely out of character. Trust me, I know. You don't have to tell me. :) Written mostly to keep my skills sharp while I plan Lucifer's Garden. It takes place in that God-Forsaken hallway just after Spike leaves for good. Cliche, I know. Leave me alone. Lol. Well, I love you all, so enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop. But I do own Gunshot Serenade. READ IT! NOW:P
Alright, then. Enjoy!
Some People
Some people are suicidal.
When you're a bounty hunter for as long as I've been, you learn to recognize them. You only get the cash if your target is alive. It's important to see which ones will make you kill them.
I can spot those people a mile away. That's why I know that isn't it. That isn't why he left.
Of course, some people are just plain stupid. They think they're invincible, that no matter what, they aren't gonna die. And he never does die, but it hasn't gone to his head like that. He's going there to die. He told me so. Not to prove that it's impossible. So that's not it, either.
I sigh and let myself slide down the cool metal wall, eyes closing momentarily. I feel heavy all of a sudden, like I've got a million pounds on my shoulders. My ass hits the ground hard, and it sends waves of pain through my tailbone. In a second, I'll be numb, so it doesn't matter. In the back of my mind, I can hear the footsteps, moving slowly away, even though he's long gone.
You know what? I'm one of them. One of the stupid people. Stupid for getting close to him, stupid for not knowing he was on a collision course. Stupid for believing him when he told me the past didn't matter.
That was why it didn't matter when I went to Singapore and everything was gone. It didn't matter because he said it didn't matter. Because I wanted so bad to believe it didn't matter. But now that he's gone off to die for the past… I know that all a person is is their past. And without one, without something substantial, I don't exist.
Not really.
The pad of my finger runs up and down the smooth metal of my gun. I've got an extra clip somewhere, if I want to go after him. Involuntarily, I glance down the hall, towards the hangar.
I know that I won't chase him. This isn't my battle. Not anymore. I did everything I possibly could to save him from himself. To save myself from him. But I guess it has to end this way.
It's better. For all of us.
Some people are nothing but trouble.
He's one of them. But again, that isn't why. That isn't why he went, to cause trouble for us.
I had known it, for a moment. For a moment, when he looked at me like that, sad and beautiful and somehow fragile, I had understood completely. I had seen into his soul and somehow recognized his drive.
But now I've forgotten it. I'm too wrapped up in myself, in what I've lost. Everything. That's what I've lost.
Fucking everything.
Finally, I stand, using the wall as much needed support. My legs are shaking. But it's all coming back to me now, that understanding I felt in those last seconds. A laugh escapes my throat, loud, harsh, feral even.
Because now I understand.
Some people will die for love.
Spike Spiegel is one of those people.