Disclaimer: This fanfic is nothing more than some kind of tribute for the CB. It's full of flashbacks, some de ja vu even. It's on purpose. It is supposed to be some repeat and a new story in the same way. Anyway, enjoy it. See you at the jazz corner of the world, space cowboys (yeah, I know someone else said that, but I like it so much…)
„Cowboy Bebop"
Second season
By Uliczka
Prologue
Nine lives of a cat
He didn't come back. Neither that day, nor next day, nor any other day. He just didn't come back. Faye had been crying. At the beginning she wanted to hide it from Jet. She was embarrassed for her tears. But he did saw them. He didn't say anything because he couldn't help her.
Then Faye just disappeared. Without a word of explanation she flew her Redtail on Mars where she spent whole night in some ill-famed casino, sitting with next and next glasses of whisky with ice. After several hours of gloomy sitting and winning with fortuitous, naïve people in poker, dices or any other game, she finally came back on Bebop. Jet was waiting for her. And he didn't ask about anything.
After all Faye stopped crying. She stayed with Jet on the ship. In spite of everything she hadn't got any other home.
*
Blood. His exhausted senses once again were recording, noting those last hours, minutes, seconds of fight. Bang. First, second. Dead people, bloody corpses lying on the floors. Red Dragons. Dead dragons. Doors to the last floor, apogee of his dream. Bang. "Julia is dead" "We must finish that". Those harsh words. Pain. Cold flash of blade of the sword. Blood. Rasp of gun's steel rubbing against sharp edge of sword. Bang. Blood. Pain. Blue sky over people's heads. And yet, darkness…
*
Dazzling, almost blinding light. And dark, not clear contour of chubby, probably man's figure inclined over him. Little, inconsiderable twinge. Man opened with great exertion his eyes. His right eye itched horribly. Artificial eye. He tried to move his hand, but he couldn't do that. He was too weak.
He was alive. Still alive.
"You woke up" he heard deep, sympathetic, quite sure man's voice. He opened eyes a little more widely. He saw grey-haired, heavy guy in white, a bit dirty now doctor's suit, with stethoscope over neck.
"I… am… alive…" he whispered almost inaudibly, na tyle, na ile pozwoli³y mu popêkane, obola³e i spierzchniête wargi. He felt pain in practically every inch of injured body.
"Yeah, sure! I thought, you know, that you're not gonna make it, you really got bad damage. But, you know, I did it some way. You've got some synthetic stuff in arm but from what I noticed, it'd not, you know, your first bump."
Man looked sadly at the yellowed, crossed by cracks ceiling.
Why cannot I die?…
"It isn't" he agreed quietly. He was extremely tired, like he would just wake up from a horrific nightmare.
The ceiling was definitely ugly. So characteristic for that kind of country hospital. He saw once a ceiling like that.
"What's your name? I must write something in card"
Man softly closed eyes. He badly wanted to smoke. But he couldn't move his hand. Not yet.
"Spike Spiegel"
YOU'LL HAVE TO CARRY THAT WEIGHT…
(A/N: forgive me language mistakes. I'm Polish, I'd like very much to know English more. I just hope there is not many of them. And hope you like it. There will be next chapter, I just have to finish translating it. See ya! - Uliczka)