Out of Reach
Sort of a continuation of Aya's fic, "Out of Place." A fanfic of a fanfic, maybe? o_o Gee. It's been so long since I wrote for the CB fandom... anyway... this is a Julia fic. ^^
R&R appreciated!
Cowboy Bebop belongs to Sunrise & Bandai.
Radishface
~
She sat there quietly, contemplating her decisions. It was as if a numbness had washed over her, because she didn't feel anything.
Correction, she thought, as she picked up a red rose that was lying on the table. I do feel something. I don't know what.
She remembered when all three of them had been happy, once. She remembered that all they were... they were just friends. There was no liaison between any of them, nothing to drive them apart. But then she had noticed something about Spike that wasn't inherent in Vicious, and the both of them had looked at each other at the same time with something refreshingly new.
Her hand clenched on the rose as she thought of Spike, if it was really love, if it was something deeper, or something less. She closed her eyes as she thought of Vicious, who was acting like this as if he had to. He couldn't accept it, could he? He didn't want to accept the fact that he was going to be a third wheel if anything happened between her and Spike.
Except it already had.
Julia's hand released the rose, and she realized that the thorns had cut into her palm, droplets of blood clinging on to her hand. Her blue eyes stared at her hand with some fascination, remembering that they had just been buried in Spike's hair the other night. And now it was bloody.
Rising up smoothly from her chair by the window, Julia walked to the kitchen and rinsed her hand off, not bothering to wrap it in bandages. The thorns hadn't done any damage.
She walked back out to where the rose was, lying on the table. Julia noticed that the edges of the petals were drying, crinkling in on themselves. It seemed brittle.
Meet me at the graveyard, Spike had said. We'll get away from this place.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the rose again, holding it up to her face, catching the faint scent of it, the last dying scent, with her last, dying breath. Spike had given it to her symbolically, hadn't he? They were supposed to be three people, not two without one. They had deserted Vicious, but it wasn't their fault.
At the same time, it was entirely their fault.
Julia didn't know what she loved at the moment. Sitting down in the same chair, by the window, she looked wonderingly at her reflection, just barely showing in the glass. Then she looked past that, outside, where the rain and the clouds had somehow managed to make everything seem cold. There was a red car parked outside on the driveway, and that seemed extremely out of place amidst the greys and blues.
She loved them both. But she loved Spike more.
Julia let her eyes unfocus as she suddenly saw a dark form in a trench coat in the distance, silver hair blending into his grey surroundings. She watched him as he walked, seemingly oblivious to the rain, stopping in his tracks once, then walking again. She watched him, her eyes unseeing, as he disappeared behind a building as he turned a corner.
A sliver of cold ran down her spine and Julia shivered, not meaning to. Her eyes readily focused again and she gave a start of surprise when the phone suddenly rang.
She sat on the chair, eyes glancing warily to the ringing tone, and she let it ring three times before she stood up and walked over, a very still, a very calm hand picking up the receiver.
"Hello?" Her voice was smooth, controlled. It didn't shake with the emotion she was suppressing.
"Julia?" It was Spike's voice, nervous, boyish, innocent. She smiled bitterly, happily.
"Hello." She replied simply, not knowing what else to say. Spike would say it for her.
"You're all right?" He asked, his quivering voice, laced with laughter, gave away his anxiety.
"Why wouldn't I be?" She asked demurely, turning around so that she faced the window. She felt as though the rain would stop now. She wasn't unhappy at the moment, with Spike's voice so near to her, even though he wasn't, physically.
"I-- I don't know." He laughed outright, and she felt a reluctant smile tugging at her lips. But she stilled it, and she kept her tears from falling from her eyes.
Julia observed the silence between them, comfortable, and yet, something hung between them. He didn't mention escape.
"I can't come back tonight." He said, suddenly like his old self again, laughing, calm, smooth, cheeky. He knew she wouldn't ask why.
"I see." Julia said, her lips forming the words that she didn't want to say.
Why not? She whispered to herself, thought to herself, the words magnifying themselves over and over again until she thought she would scream them. Why?
"I have to do something for the syndicate." He said, not sensing the riot in her head. "I'll be back in the morning."
Julia nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "All right."
She didn't say, I'll see you then.
"All right." Spike's voice glimmered with happiness, a slight, vulnerable happiness. "And-- take care of yourself."
It was a command. Julia nodded again, and Spike seemed to see her this time.
They hung up.
He hadn't asked about the escape, the graveyard, the arrangements. He hadn't mentioned anything about Vicious also having to do with this assignment from the syndicate. But of course he wouldn't say anything. Friends weren't friends anymore when it came to love.
She was never a friend to either of them, in fact. She had just been something to love. The opportunity for loving was waiting in the dark, in the shadows, cold, and miserable.
Julia held her hands up to her face and realized they were cold and trembling.
She could convince herself she didn't want Spike, didn't need Spike. She could convince herself that maybe, if she had never been there in the first place, that Spike and Vicious would have continued being friends, continued being brothers, without hesitation. They wouldn't have to sneer traitor behind each others' backs. There wouldn't have been the need.
She convinced herself that maybe, if she left, things would be like they would before. The people she loved could then love each other again. She didn't deserve it. She hadn't come into their lives to make them happy, it was the other way around.
The window seemed to fling open by itself but she realized her hands were doing the job, forcing them open. She felt the wind enter into the room, a lonely sound, and she realized it was blowing away from her. Julia's hands seemed to reach for the white paper with the address on their own accord, tearing it in two, then in four, in halves and halves. Her hands hung limply outside the window and she felt the rain on them, like cold, hard, biting kisses. Then she loosened her hands and the white paper dispersed, and she noticed with some wondering that they looked like snow, like paper doves, migrating without an idea as to where they would go.
Her hand itched for a pen, to write down some last words, to write down how much she hated, how much she loved. Instead, the next few moments seemed to go by in a blur, blindness overtaking her as she shoved some clothing into a bag, some money, and the blindness overtook her as she shoved her memories to the back of her head.
She grabbed her coat off the coat rack and hurriedly put it on, brushing her hair out of her face, forcing her tears back, forcing her cries back. She told herself she was numb, without feeling, that it was going to be like in books when somebody leaves, they are leaving because they don't care.
It wasn't that way, though, and Julia left the room, slamming the door behind her.
The wind blew through the open window, making the white, gossamer material of the curtains flutter. It seemed like it was still raining, but that was only the drops of water falling off the roof.
The rain hasn't stopped yet, Julia thought, as she stopped walking for a minute, huddling in on herself, and she closed her eyes. It's still going.
~