Home Coming
Part One- C'est La Vie
Spike Spiegel sat back and took a long drag off his Marb red cigarette, savoring the calmness it brought him. Calm, now there's a word that would describe my life, he thought wryly to himself. He sat and smoked and reflected for the thousandth time on his recent past. He was sitting in his boxers and any observer would note his lean but muscular build, but they would also notice that for a young man, he had a hell of alot of scars, burns and what looked like old gunshot wounds. Indeed, his life had been anything but calm, and he had knocked on heaven's door far too many times. He had thought the last battle was truly the last he would fight, but as always life had proved him wrong. He couldn't help but feel intensely bitter. What was the point? All his life he had searched for a meaning of his existence....and he had thought he had found it in Julia. But life was never easy and the happy life he'd dreamed of with her had never been in the cards. Vicious, the Red Dragons, and everything else had been enough to keep them separated. Then a stray shot from a thug of Vicious's had put an end to any dreams that he had ever held of a happy life. He had gone into the Dragon's compound with nothing to live for but to extract one final revenge on those that had ruined his chances of happiness. Spike had thought then that all that was left for him was to die, and take Vicious down with him. And so it had seemed he had succeeded, and as Spike fell on the steps inside of the Red Dragon compound, he had felt the darkness descend on him, and had thought This is it.
Only it hadn't been, much to his disappointment. Many of the Dragons had looked to Spike as a possible leader, and with Vicious dead the Spike loyalists among them had quickly taken charge of the situation. A bullet to the heart had proved fatal to Vicious, but Spike's wound was not immediatly deadly. Spike's wound was a very deep cut across his chest, and the main threat to his life had been blood loss. The Red Dragons had access to some of the finest medical equipment and doctors in the system, and they had quickly put those facilities to use. If Spike had been conscious, he would have told them to not even bother.
He remembered little of that time period, nothing but brief memories of a hospital bed and ceiling. He fully came to about a week and a half after his showdown with Vicious. He had truly never felt so shitty in all his life.
Spike paused his flow of memory, and lit another cigarette. He looked around the sparse and shabby hotel room. He got up and fixed himself a screwdriver, plopped back down into his chair and resumed his thinking.
After he had spent some time recovering in the hospital, Spike was approached by various faction leaders within the Dragons. Many wanted him to return and take up leadership. Spike however, would have none of it. Before he had considered himself a living dead man....now he felt that was even more true. Just when he thought his pain and emptiness could not be more complete, life had shown him otherwise. Spike had called a meeting of the Dragons as soon as he was able to get around on his own. He told the gathering of leaders that he was done with the syndicate, and that they should all consider him dead. He vowed that he would never again interfere in Red Dragon business, and also had sworn that none of the secrets he knew would ever be revealed to the ISSP. He had known at the time that many of the Dragon's would try to kill him anyway, just to be safe, but at the same time he welcomed it. Let them try, he thought. Not that he would really mind dying.
He left the city and had come here, to this shabby little hotel by the seaside. He'd been here almost six months. His life was a steady routine of reflection, smoking, and drinking. The first day he had arrived at the hotel he had sat in his bed and loaded his Jericho pistol. He held it to his head.It would be so easy....he thought. An end to everything, and end to the dream that had become a nightmare. He tried to think of reasons not to pull the trigger, and as usual came up with nothing. Julia, dead... the Bebop crew scattered.....and more than likely hating his guts for his leaving them or thinking him a dead man. In the end, Spike had either lost or found his courage and lowered the gun. He could not decide which it was. After awhile he thought he knew why he couldn't do it. All his life, against everything and everyone, Spike had fought. He had fought with all his heart and all his passion, even when there was nothing left to win. He guessed he had come too far along now to take the easy way out.
So there he sat in his underwear, drink in hand and puffing on his cancer stick. The question of course, was what now? He had been pondering that for six months and still had come up with nothing. Six months of drinking and pondering. He spent most of that time thinking about three events. The first memory was of Julia, always Julia. Godamn it... how he had loved her. He didn't think he could ever describe in words how much he had loved her, nor could he describe the feelings she had given to him. He hated it so very badly that she had died. Spike had spent all his life looking for someone like her, and then she had died, and now what was left for him?. His dreams of her haunted him, and no amount of booze could seem to dispel her from his mind. He figured he deserved this torture. After all, he was the one that failed her. If only he had been a little faster, he could have shot that bastard before he shot Julia. Without her, where was the meaning in his life? All the rest of it seemed petty and useless when held up to the fact that his other half was dead and buried.
Another memory he spent alot of time with was the final meeting with Vicious. Vicious, a man that Spike had once felt was his best friend. How twisted things had become. Naturally it had been a woman that split them apart so bitterly. Still, Spike took some small satisfaction from their last contact. He loved to recall and savor that last look in that wicked bastard's eyes as his gun put a bullet in that black heart of his. What Spike didn't like to recall was the little part about V's katana slashing a hell of cut across his chest. Or the fact that killing Vicious hadn't made Julia reappear.
The last memory he tortured himself with was the final parting he had had with Jet and Faye. Jet....he had come to realize, was probably the best and truest friend he'd ever had. And Spike had never reallly appreciated it or recognized it. He knew now that Jet had looked at him as part son and part brother, and now Spike realized how much it must have hurt him to see Spike leave. Jet had of course told him to go and face his past, but Spike knew now that Jet had only said that for his sake. He wondered what Jet was doing now. Probably still on the prowl for bounties, tending his bonzai's, cooking shitty food and thinking of the good ole' days. Spike knew that Jet was probably lonely. He never admitted it, but secretly Jet had loved having Spike, Ed, Faye and Ein on his ship. What else did Jet really have besides his friends to keep him going? Spike also found himself thinking of Ed, and how she was doing with that crazy father of hers. Must run in the family.
Thinking of Jet of course lead him to think of Faye. He remembered her crying in pain, firing her gun into the air, as he left for what he thought was his doom. It all seemed pretty clear to him now. He had always thought of Faye as kind of a sisterly rival, an annoying and pompous little brat. Pretty much every convo they had ever had had been an argument or shouting match, and two people could hardly seem anymore different. Yet he realized now that at the very end....Could it be that Faye had had feelings for him? Even love? It seemed obvious to him now, in hindsight. All the looks, the expressions...he had missed all of them at the time. Too hell bent on revenge, too dazed and in love with Julia to notice the little details. But now....surely any feeligns she had for him were gone by now. Surely she must hate his guts for leaving. And what was more....how could Spike even think of another woman- the only woman he had ever wanted was dead. It would be the grossest betrayal to care about anyone else. His days of love were over, he thought to himself. Still....there was something about Faye...that vulnerability...that fiery spirit, not to mention that unbelievable body- that lead Spike to wonder about her despite his misgivings.
He liked to fantasize about going back to the Bebop. His dreams of this always fell into two catergories. In the one version the gang all reacted with joy at his return, the other with disgust and anger. Spike wasn't even sure which he would prefer. Hell, he wasn't even sure he wanted to go back to the Bebop. Again, what was the fucking point?! He sighed heavily.
Spike heard footsteps approaching his door, then stop in front of his room. He made sure his Jericho was at the ready, and paused, listening. Perhaps it was just the maid, he thought. At that moment the shabby wooden door of the hotel exploded inward, and three goons in cheap black suits burst into them room. Spike, though a bit tanked , had a big advantage in having his gun already in hand, ready to go if any suicidal urges griped him. Three loud shots rang out, and three heavy bodies hit the floor. Only one of them had even got a shot off. Indeed, Spike had thought he was a dead man when the guy had fired at him, after all how could he miss at this range?. He turned around in his chair and saw a smoking bullet hole in the wall behind him. Once again, death had missed him by about a quarter of an inch. He sighed again. Damn these fucking bastards for wrecking his bender! He supposed this meant he had to move on. Someone in the Dragons was tidying up loose ends, and Spike decided right then and there that he only really wanted to die if he himself was pulling the trigger.
He got up off his seat and slowly donned his traditional suit and tie. The attack had decided him. He couldn't stay here any longer, since it was clear someone wanted him dead, and Spike didn't really feel like hiding the bodies or cleaning up the place. The room wasn't nice enough anyways. He couldn't just mope around and drink anymore...he knew that now. And if he couldn't bring himself to end his own life, what did that leave? Though Spike dreaded it, he knew he could do only one thing: go back to the Bebop and see what awaited him there, despite the pain and difficulty that would come with it. After all, they were the only thing he had left, with love and revenge long gone.
Part 2 Coming Soon