Disclaimer: I own nothing…and I don't particularly know who does…
Author's Note: Just wanted to give Julie ("Pimpmastapopo") a big thanks! I love ya girl! Your site rocks and I can't wait to see how it grows! This fic's for you babe!
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When Dreaming Ends
By my fragile trust
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Chapter 1
"Life After Death"
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"It's all a dream."
"Yeah, just a dream."
Two men, one short and the other tall, sit in a bar in one of the many newly birthed (and rapidly growing) cities of Earth. Despite the constant meteor showers, the human race has been building itself. No longer suffocated by the oppression of a broken world, but rather breathing, and breathing deeply, once again.
"Ya' know, I heard this story the other day," says the taller man to the shorter. He takes a swig of his bottle of beer.
"Ah you hear lots of stories," replies the shorter man with a shake of his head.
"Yeah, well this is a good one," explains the taller with an exaggerated nod of assurance.
"Well, tell it then. I suppose I haven't any choice in the matter anyway," mumbles the shorter gruffly.
"Alright then, I will. Well, the other day I was sittin' in this same spot when a tall, even taller than me, muscular man walked in and seated himself next to me. I think he had a fake arm too. And he had lots of scars. Now that I think about I never caught his name," explains the taller man with an air of thoughtfulness.
"Dammit, on with the story already!" exclaims the shorter man with impatience.
"Alright, alright. As I was sayin', the newcomer sat himself right next to me and ordered up a strong whiskey. He looked resigned, kind of. He was quiet too. I tried sayin' hello but he only nodded a reply. At first I was discouraged from talkin' to him, but as we sat there in silence, drinkin' our drinks, my curiosity got the best of me." The taller man takes a sip of his drink before continuing.
"So I made small talk with him. Said how I've been seein' new people comin' into the bar for weeks, which was a sign of Earth's slowly growin' population. Again, he only nodded, but I was determined to get him to talk. Then I said it was good that people were startin' to move back to the earth because Mars was gettin' crowded. And that was what got his attention. He turned to me, gave me a long look, and then smiled and said 'Yeah, Mars is a crazy place'." The shorter man props up his elbow and leans his chin into his palm. Satisfied that he has his audience's full attention, the taller man unbuttons the top button of his shirt and faces the shorter man.
"So the two of us got to talkin', about Mars and Earth and about space's economy and mindless chit chat like that. But he seemed to be warmin' up to me, and after a while he started talkin' about himself. He said he was a bounty hunter and had his own ship, but no crew. And when I asked him why he had no crew, he gave me that long look again, kind of like he was thinkin', or rememberin', so hard that he was totally escapin' reality. Even his eyes got kind of distant…" the taller man lets his sentence trail off as he shakes his head a bit. The shorter man, by now, is sitting on the edge of his chair, looking quite anxious. Straightening up a little, the taller man continues.
"Then the man asked me somethin' that I think I will never forget. He said 'Would you like to hear the story of two peoples' lives; two unordinary people that experienced death twice but love only once?' It took me a minute to understand what he was sayin'. When I still couldn't understand I said, 'Well, since I don't know what you mean exactly, why don't you tell me?'. And with that he ordered us a round of beers. When he started tellin' the story, I was kind of shocked. The way he told it, with such detail, it made me feel as though I were livin' it myself. I kind of got the feelin' he was telling a story that had needed to be told for quite some time-" The shorter man interjects suddenly.
"Well what was his story? What did he tell you?" the shorter man asks adamantly. The taller man pauses for a moment and then orders a round of beer.
"I think some drinks will be required to tell this story. I don't suspect I can tell it as well as that man did, but I'll do what I can." When the bartender sets down their drinks, they both take long sips.
"Well, this is how it began…"
The past. It was haunting him. He was living vicariously through it. No, he wasn't living; he was searching for answers because he simply didn't understand. He didn't understand why things happened, or why things turned out the way they did. Most of all, he didn't understand why he was still here.
He settled down, after a dangerous youth, as a bounty hunter on the ship called the Cowboy Bebop. That's what he was, a cowboy that went by the name Spike.
The residents of the Bebop were like Spike in many ways, but also undeniably different. The one quality that kept the group so well fitted, though, was that they all shared the same reason for being on the ship: They were a rogue crew of lost searching souls with wills to keep living but for unfathomable reasons. Among these people, Spike established a kinship like none other of his life.
Despite his new drive in life, his past was with him all of the time. He carried it, not upon his sleeve or shoulders, but upon his heart and soul. It was his heart and soul that were most jaded, and damaged, by his past experiences, and every breathing moment he was reminded of it. That was his problem: he couldn't forget that his past was proof that he had briefly lived an illusion of freedom; that his reckless unforgiving lifestyle had been about surviving. His past was proof that he had never really lived, because when he had tried to escape and live in honest freedom, instead he had died. His consequence was death.
And it was a woman that killed him.
It was the worst betrayal a human being could endure. A betrayal of the heart and soul-of the essentials that kept a lonely man breathing day after day. Living the life of an outlaw had its toll, and for Spike the price was beyond his limits. The man had dodged more bullets than could ever be counted, but he could not dodge the infinite list of unanswered questions, each of which was deluding his soul and blackening his heart. It was this pain that drove him forward on his never-ending search.
He made a good life for himself. He had a job and people to live with. He had motivation and reason. Yet, he could not appreciate his life for what it was. The plague that ate at his mind kept him from becoming a part of that good life. Instead, every day he spent reliving the past. And that was his mistake.
It was for those reasons that Spike was a brooding man. He kept to himself; though, he was hardly quiet. His crewmates had lived with him for a long time, yet they knew not of his past. They simply accepted that, like themselves, he was in search of something. The question was: What was he in search of? Yet another question that he could not answer.
Spike searched for answers within his memories, when his search should have been within his present life. The past could not be changed and his reason for sifting through unchangeable memories could be no other than that he simply didn't know how to let go of the past enough to focus on his present.
The memory of the woman consumed him. Only when her name was uttered, noticeable shudders ran through his entire body. Her name took precedence of all his memories of her.
She was an illusion, no longer real, if she even ever was. Julia.
And it was that utterance of her name that clarified his entire existence. During those fateful days when the Syndicate was out for his blood, the ghost of Julia returned to him. A crewmember voiced her name and he knew. At long last he knew his answer. He was searching for her; because, every part of his being told him that he would find peace with her.
She was his paradox. For years she had haunted him, quite literally. Her memory had tortured him, left his emotions writhing in an indescribable pain. And like an electric shock, her name brought him back to life.
She was his death, and his savior…
Pausing for a drink the taller man eyes his audience. The shorter man has been listening intently; his mouth is even hanging open in awe. This causes the taller man to smile.
"Yeah, that was about my reaction too," the taller quips to the shorter. Shaking away his amazement, the shorter man nods in agreement.
"You're not done are you? Because that'd be one hell of a cliffhanger," comments the shorter man as he sips his nearly empty beer. The taller man laughs loudly.
"No, I'm not near done. One hell of a tale so far, don't you think?" the taller man asks as he waves the bartender.
"Yeah, I'll say. Makes me wish, and I've never been a big believer in wishin'," explains the shorter man. He continues, "Makes me feel a lot of things actually. I guess that's what makes a good story."
"Indeed. And wait 'till you hear the rest," the taller man replies with a sly grin.
"Well, on with it then! Shouldn't keep a man waitin'," says the shorter man gruffly.
"Alright then. Well, by this point the man tellin' me the story was getting' pretty emotional himself. But despite that, he kept tellin' his tale. He explained that when Spike realized what he needed he decided to leave the Cowboy Bebop. He said that he told Spike 'Find what you lost and get it back'. And Spike did just that…"
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And that's it for chapter one.
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