Practice - by Maru-chan
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer - roses are red, violets are blue; I no own, so you no sue.
I'm back, I'm back - took me long enough, neh? N/E who, this is the long-overdue sequel to my other Spike + Ed fic "Lessons". There will be a touch of Jet + Faye in this story, and I will slip back into the regular Cowboy Bebop-verse in the end, so beware of spoilers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ In the Bebop living room ~
"OW - Watch it Jet, I'm a delicate person." Faye winced as more disinfectant salve was applied to her scrapes. Gingerly, she brought her leg to rest on the couch, twisting around to look at the former ISSP officer tending her scrapes. That face is starting to get too familiar - this shit always happens around Spike . . .
Jet set the med kit down on the floor, then sat down heavily on the worn table, drooping shoulders completing his half-anxious-half-frustrated look. "They've been gone a long time - the sunset ages ago."
He gestured at the time glowing on the computer monitor. It read 5:42 a.m. One more time, will he come back one more time. . .
Dark brown eyes met green, both filled with a melancholy look, but something else as well, a sympathy, an understanding that resonated in both. Faye opened her mouth to speak, to ask what -
*FWUMP*
The moment was broken as the Bebop rocked sudden, causing Faye and Jet to fall from their seats to the hard metal floor. Both let out a loud "Shit," then the former cop was up, moving towards the viewing deck with a speed that belied his burly appearance.
Faye was just slowly standing up when he reached the door, and the sight that Jet almost ran into startled her so much she sat back down on the table. "Sp-Spike?!"
The green haired bounty hunter stood in the entry hatch, swaying slightly, his brown eyes listless and dull. His blue suit and pale yellow shirt were torn and dirty, crusted with blood that was probably his. In his arms, wrapped in his sodden brown trench coat was Ed, barely breathing.
With out looking at either Jet or Faye, Spike walked into the room and set the skinny hacker down on the couch as gently as he could. Still not looking away from the child or even speaking, he reached for the med kit, which still sat on the floor.
"Faye, come on." Jet turned away as his partner began to bandage the orange haired girl's wounds. Faye nodded eyes soft and misty as she stood and followed him out.
"Spike . . . we're glad you're back . . . both of you." And then she was gone, leaving Spike alone with Ed, and his thoughts.
+~ Earlier on Mars ~+
It's the same old game, just an endless repetition, going on into infinity. You think you've won, or at least finally lost, that you've come to an end, but you never do. There are countless chances, opportunities, coincidences that keep you in the game, trapped . . .
. . . I guess that's just the way life is . . .
With a bitter smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, Spike snubbed out his last cigarette. Totally focused, he brought the Swordfish II down outside an abandoned factory. Jumping down from the cockpit, he pulled on his trench coat, gave his Jericho one last check, then ran into the =empty= building.
He shot maybe 20, 30 men in the first chamber. Not all of them were dead or seriously wounded, but as Spike ran into the second chamber he pulled a grenade from the artillery belt at his waist, and lobbed it back over his shoulder.
The blast seared his hair, but other wise the wiry bounty hunter was still whole.
Spike mounted the rickety metal stairs two at a time, dodging bullets from agents hidden in the rafters. Without looking, he pulled a small box from the inside pocket of his coat.
As he reached the landing for the top floor, Spike whirled around, smiled right into the cold eyes of an agent even younger than himself, and lobbed the bomb into the rafters. The explosion that blew out the roof could be seen all over the city.
Pulling himself out of the wreckage of the top floor, Spike stumbled, clutching his bleeding arm. He was hit in two other places, a deep leg wound and a gash along his ribs. Before him, standing placidly in the center of the carnage was Vicious.
The sadistic silver haired Syndicate agent smiled at his former partner and friend. "Hello, Spike. Feels like old times, doesn't it?" He laughed, without mirth, and stepped forward, drawing his sword.
Spike stood all smiles gone now, intent; deadly. He leveled his Jericho at Vicious, aiming between his eyes. "Where's Edward?"
Vicious stood limply about 5 yards from Spike, sword unsheathed and gleaming in his pale hand. With a flourish, he brought it up to point at the wall to Spike's right, which was still mostly intact.
Every muscle in his body tense, Spike flicked his eyes over to the spot Vicious indicated. The cold eyed man cruelly laughed as Spike winced at the sight of Edward. "You were late Spike; your little friend and I had to pass the time . . ."
Edward was bound in heavy metal shackles, her formerly white tee shirt and black shorts torn and dirty, bleeding from dozens of little surface cuts and scrapes. Ugly bruises were beginning to show up on her arms and legs, and a particularly large one was blooming on her left eyebrow.
Spike felt the cold rage that had settled into the pit of his stomach bubble and seethed into a white-hot fury. His eyes cut back to Vicious who still stood, smiling coldly, sword arm limp, 15 feet away from him. "You are going to lose a pint of blood for -"
*THWUP-THWUP-THWUP-THWUP-THWUP*
Both men found them selves blinded by the search light of a police hover craft. "ISSP - Freeze, we have this building surrounded!!!"
The cruel smile on Vicious face widened into a sadistic grin as he pulled a detonator from inside his coat. He locked eyes with Spike then flick his gaze over to the prone body of the orange haired little girl. Spike's eyes widened as he understood, whirling around and dashing for Edward.
Behind the wiry bounty hunter, Vicious chuckled as he clicked the detonator, while the ISSP craft opened fire on Spike. The building imploded and 3 stories of concrete and steel came crashing down on the startled ISSP officers inside.
Outside, the ISSP craft backed away from the sudden blast. From the dust, two other craft emerged unnoticed, one a small bulky ship emblazoned with the Red Dragon logo, and a sleek little red ship that zoomed away into the night.
Inside the Swordfish II, Spike cradled an unconscious Ed to his chest, setting the auto pilot for the Bebop. He scanned her various injuries, wincing as he tried to stop the serious bleeding with his trench coat.
It's all the same old game . . . but I hope she's too young to get trapped . . .
~ In the Bebop viewing deck ~
"It's done." Spike slouched wearily into the deck, startling his partner and the purple haired knock out he was talking with. Slumping against the entry hatch, he brought trembling hands up to search his pockets. "Hey, Jet, got a cigarette . . . ?"
Before either Jet or Faye could move forward, Spike collapsed, crumpling into a bloody heap on the floor. Faye reached him first, and checked for a pulse. "He's alive, barely. He's bleeding bad, though." Looks like we have another mummy on board . . .
*sigh*
Jet settled into his frustrated expression. "Help me get him back to his bunk." Stupid idiot . . . this is really starting to get old . . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you like this, and that it's worth the wait. Sorry if it wasn't funny and if the fight scene was crappy. The next one will be up soon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Disclaimer - roses are red, violets are blue; I no own, so you no sue.
I'm back, I'm back - took me long enough, neh? N/E who, this is the long-overdue sequel to my other Spike + Ed fic "Lessons". There will be a touch of Jet + Faye in this story, and I will slip back into the regular Cowboy Bebop-verse in the end, so beware of spoilers.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~ In the Bebop living room ~
"OW - Watch it Jet, I'm a delicate person." Faye winced as more disinfectant salve was applied to her scrapes. Gingerly, she brought her leg to rest on the couch, twisting around to look at the former ISSP officer tending her scrapes. That face is starting to get too familiar - this shit always happens around Spike . . .
Jet set the med kit down on the floor, then sat down heavily on the worn table, drooping shoulders completing his half-anxious-half-frustrated look. "They've been gone a long time - the sunset ages ago."
He gestured at the time glowing on the computer monitor. It read 5:42 a.m. One more time, will he come back one more time. . .
Dark brown eyes met green, both filled with a melancholy look, but something else as well, a sympathy, an understanding that resonated in both. Faye opened her mouth to speak, to ask what -
*FWUMP*
The moment was broken as the Bebop rocked sudden, causing Faye and Jet to fall from their seats to the hard metal floor. Both let out a loud "Shit," then the former cop was up, moving towards the viewing deck with a speed that belied his burly appearance.
Faye was just slowly standing up when he reached the door, and the sight that Jet almost ran into startled her so much she sat back down on the table. "Sp-Spike?!"
The green haired bounty hunter stood in the entry hatch, swaying slightly, his brown eyes listless and dull. His blue suit and pale yellow shirt were torn and dirty, crusted with blood that was probably his. In his arms, wrapped in his sodden brown trench coat was Ed, barely breathing.
With out looking at either Jet or Faye, Spike walked into the room and set the skinny hacker down on the couch as gently as he could. Still not looking away from the child or even speaking, he reached for the med kit, which still sat on the floor.
"Faye, come on." Jet turned away as his partner began to bandage the orange haired girl's wounds. Faye nodded eyes soft and misty as she stood and followed him out.
"Spike . . . we're glad you're back . . . both of you." And then she was gone, leaving Spike alone with Ed, and his thoughts.
+~ Earlier on Mars ~+
It's the same old game, just an endless repetition, going on into infinity. You think you've won, or at least finally lost, that you've come to an end, but you never do. There are countless chances, opportunities, coincidences that keep you in the game, trapped . . .
. . . I guess that's just the way life is . . .
With a bitter smile that didn't quite reach his eyes, Spike snubbed out his last cigarette. Totally focused, he brought the Swordfish II down outside an abandoned factory. Jumping down from the cockpit, he pulled on his trench coat, gave his Jericho one last check, then ran into the =empty= building.
He shot maybe 20, 30 men in the first chamber. Not all of them were dead or seriously wounded, but as Spike ran into the second chamber he pulled a grenade from the artillery belt at his waist, and lobbed it back over his shoulder.
The blast seared his hair, but other wise the wiry bounty hunter was still whole.
Spike mounted the rickety metal stairs two at a time, dodging bullets from agents hidden in the rafters. Without looking, he pulled a small box from the inside pocket of his coat.
As he reached the landing for the top floor, Spike whirled around, smiled right into the cold eyes of an agent even younger than himself, and lobbed the bomb into the rafters. The explosion that blew out the roof could be seen all over the city.
Pulling himself out of the wreckage of the top floor, Spike stumbled, clutching his bleeding arm. He was hit in two other places, a deep leg wound and a gash along his ribs. Before him, standing placidly in the center of the carnage was Vicious.
The sadistic silver haired Syndicate agent smiled at his former partner and friend. "Hello, Spike. Feels like old times, doesn't it?" He laughed, without mirth, and stepped forward, drawing his sword.
Spike stood all smiles gone now, intent; deadly. He leveled his Jericho at Vicious, aiming between his eyes. "Where's Edward?"
Vicious stood limply about 5 yards from Spike, sword unsheathed and gleaming in his pale hand. With a flourish, he brought it up to point at the wall to Spike's right, which was still mostly intact.
Every muscle in his body tense, Spike flicked his eyes over to the spot Vicious indicated. The cold eyed man cruelly laughed as Spike winced at the sight of Edward. "You were late Spike; your little friend and I had to pass the time . . ."
Edward was bound in heavy metal shackles, her formerly white tee shirt and black shorts torn and dirty, bleeding from dozens of little surface cuts and scrapes. Ugly bruises were beginning to show up on her arms and legs, and a particularly large one was blooming on her left eyebrow.
Spike felt the cold rage that had settled into the pit of his stomach bubble and seethed into a white-hot fury. His eyes cut back to Vicious who still stood, smiling coldly, sword arm limp, 15 feet away from him. "You are going to lose a pint of blood for -"
*THWUP-THWUP-THWUP-THWUP-THWUP*
Both men found them selves blinded by the search light of a police hover craft. "ISSP - Freeze, we have this building surrounded!!!"
The cruel smile on Vicious face widened into a sadistic grin as he pulled a detonator from inside his coat. He locked eyes with Spike then flick his gaze over to the prone body of the orange haired little girl. Spike's eyes widened as he understood, whirling around and dashing for Edward.
Behind the wiry bounty hunter, Vicious chuckled as he clicked the detonator, while the ISSP craft opened fire on Spike. The building imploded and 3 stories of concrete and steel came crashing down on the startled ISSP officers inside.
Outside, the ISSP craft backed away from the sudden blast. From the dust, two other craft emerged unnoticed, one a small bulky ship emblazoned with the Red Dragon logo, and a sleek little red ship that zoomed away into the night.
Inside the Swordfish II, Spike cradled an unconscious Ed to his chest, setting the auto pilot for the Bebop. He scanned her various injuries, wincing as he tried to stop the serious bleeding with his trench coat.
It's all the same old game . . . but I hope she's too young to get trapped . . .
~ In the Bebop viewing deck ~
"It's done." Spike slouched wearily into the deck, startling his partner and the purple haired knock out he was talking with. Slumping against the entry hatch, he brought trembling hands up to search his pockets. "Hey, Jet, got a cigarette . . . ?"
Before either Jet or Faye could move forward, Spike collapsed, crumpling into a bloody heap on the floor. Faye reached him first, and checked for a pulse. "He's alive, barely. He's bleeding bad, though." Looks like we have another mummy on board . . .
*sigh*
Jet settled into his frustrated expression. "Help me get him back to his bunk." Stupid idiot . . . this is really starting to get old . . .
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I hope you like this, and that it's worth the wait. Sorry if it wasn't funny and if the fight scene was crappy. The next one will be up soon.