Authoress: Michelle C.
Date: July 13, 2003
Series: Cowboy Bebop
Disclaimers: See other fics.
A Place Where I Belong
Chapter 3
Salty and Nostalgic Remembrances
'Finally,' I thought as I landed on Earth. 'And that was the easy part… though it was definitely not easy.' I hated leaving Spike. I woke up when the Redtail's computer voiced that there were only five minutes left before I landed on Earth. I was glad to finally be able to stretch out after a day and about six hours crammed into the small starship; it was built for short-distanced trips, not journeys that lasted more than a couple of hours.
I realized that I had cried in my sleep when I woke up because my face felt crackly and dry from the tears so before I landed at my port, I made up my face a little bit so I could at least look presentable even though I felt like shit.
What I saw when I stepped out of my ship almost made me want to go right back on it and leave Earth forever. It was only a year since we had last visited that old dust ball of a planet but since then, the buildings had grown even shabbier and seemingly darker… maybe even quieter. It was like a ghost town, almost, except for a few of the clubs with their bright neon lights that hurt my still-sleepy eyes.
I was so sick of sitting, but I needed something in my system. Some strong liquor would do the trick, so I headed to a bar that was nearby. 'The Ruby Rose,' I thought. 'Well, I like the name,' I thought, 'and it looks calm enough…' I didn't feel like fighting off guys then. I was too tired and I had barely slept in the last week anyways, so it was pretty easy to piss me off.
As soon as I entered the bar, I caught a strong whiff of roses. They were my favorite flowers when I was a kid and I still loved their smell. I remembered that my old friends use to call me the "Rose Queen" because I wouldn't go anywhere without some of my papa's special roses. They were thornless and specially imported, I believe, from what used to be China. Some were a beautiful blood red while others were a yellow that was so bright, it put the sun to shame. Papa had bred the two plants together and created a pale orange colored rose, though how it was so pale was completely beyond me.
Papa was an expert gardener and horse breeder while Mama was great at sewing and stitching. Mama use to love sewing tiny roses all over my little hats because she knew I loved them so much…
A nostalgic feeling made itself known in my heart because of the flowers' heady scent and I almost collapsed, if not for the barstool conveniently under me. I hadn't realized that I had made it to the bartender's station already. "So what'll you have, little missy?" he asked me. I didn't really feel like giving the guy the satisfaction of knowing "little missy" bothered me, so I just ordered a glass of Bloody Mary* and sipped it slowly, savoring the liquor as the pungent taste washed down my throat. [*I have no idea how strong a BM is exactly. I asked my mom and she said it's tomato juice with vodka… Well, I'm still clueless.]
I zoned out a bit, I suppose, because the next thing I knew, a guy with longish hair who was definitely not there before was sitting next to me and was trying to ask me something. I turned to look him square in the face but as I did, I suddenly gasped. It was Gren; only he had blackish-blue hair instead of the beautiful violet-black it was before.
"Miss," he said again, "Miss. What is your name?"
"I-I'm Faye. Faye Valentine."
"What a beautiful name. Faye," he said as he turned towards me. The way he said my name brought shivers so my back. Suddenly, I felt very exposed in the yellow shorts and suspenders I was in. His blue-green eyes—the same eyes as Gren's—bore into my emerald green eyes. I actually thought it was Gren for a few seconds and then I remembered: Gren died that day. Spike had helped him into his ship and dragged it in the direction of Titan before we took off. It hurt so much that day…
"My name is Hikari. Gren Hikari. Can I get you another Bloody Mary, Faye?"
As he said those words, I felt an ocean of tears that I had tried to hold back with a piece of driftwood rush into my eyes. "G-Gren?" I stuttered out.
"Yes. That is my name," he said smiling. He had the same smile too.
That was it. I couldn't hold it back anymore. I suddenly spun around the pulled out my Glock30 and shoved it in his face. "You," I said, my voice shaking as I leaned over him, "are not Gren!" A single tear landed on his face before I turned toward the door and fired one shot at the ceiling, letting the bullet swirl through the rosy-colored smoke that smelled of roses and cigarettes in the bar.
I felt sick. So I did the only logical thing at the time: I ran. I have no idea how long it was that I ran before reaching a small building. I don't know what it was that drew me towards it, but I stopped in front of it and gradually, my breath slowed enough so I didn't need to lean over on my knees in order to catch it anymore.
The first thing I thought as I straightened up was, 'Damn! The Redtail!' I had completely forgotten it when I ran out of the Ruby Rose. It was still parked there. 'Well,' I thought, highly irritated, 'I guess I have to go get it in the morning…'
I sighed and started to walk down the road when I suddenly remembered the small building that I had stopped in front of. What was it about that little place?
Then, as if someone had suddenly patted me on the shoulder unsuspectingly, I started; there was music coming from the inside of the house.
Cautiously, I approached the house. Almost as suddenly as it made itself known to me, the music stopped. As if coming out of a trance, I blinked. Whoever was playing the piano had picked a very haunting piece. An old Earth piece called "Toccata in D Minor" by Johann Sebastian Bach.
I almost cried again as I remembered the piano Mama had played. She used to spend hours every day practicing and playing and singing. I used to sit next to her and was amazed when she played. When I had touched the piano, my childlike fingers were sloppy and immature.
I didn't understand how when I played the instrument made such terrible, ugly sounds and how when Mama played, I could listen to the music and feel sleepy and wide awake at the same time.
When I was a little older, I begged Mama to teach me how to play and after a few days of asking, Mama finally agreed.
At first, my fingers tried to play the beautiful, complicated pieces Mama played and though I tried and tried and tried, I couldn't play them!
Then, Mama took me away from the giant, black, wooden Grand Piano and sat me down on the giant, white, plushy couch.
I hated that couch.
Mama and Papa only sat me on that couch when it was something they really wanted me to listen to; I couldn't get out of that lump by myself until I was about eleven years old. It ate me alive! Or… at least, that's what it had felt like when I was little.
"Now, Faye, honey," she said in her soft voice. "Do you really want to learn to play the piano? Do you really want to play it well?" she asked me gently, giving me a chance to change my decision from before.
I answered with an eager "yes" and she laughed her beautiful, lyrical laugh but then suddenly stopped. "I'm serious, honey. I'll teach you as much as I know but you must promise to be dedicated and practice every day. Do you promise?"
I nodded, happy that she agreed.
So my piano lessens began. At first, since I was just starting and I was already 8 years old, Mama gave me some easy and fun pieces like Happy Farmer by Robert Schumann or Skip and March by Diana Fabiani.
I had such a great time. I practiced and hour a day, just like a good little girl was suppose to. Just like Mama said.
After five years, Mama thought I was ready for a harder piece and gave me one for my thirteenth birthday. It was a faint, haunting piece by one of my favorite songwriters. His songs were an Earth tradition; almost all accomplished pianists played at least one symphony or one concerto written by Ludwig van Beethoven. He was one of the best and it was a blast from the far past.
Right away I wanted to try out my new piece but Mama only laughed and told me to finish my cake and ice cream. I was so excited. My thirteenth birthday was one of my most memorable… and one of the last ones with my mom, though I didn't know it at the time.
After my little party, my friends' parents picked their own child up and all was quiet. While the maids cleaned up our carefully made messes (us kids and "the girls" as we called our maids, were friends, so we tried to make as little messes as possible for them to clean) Mama and I walked quickly into the piano room and set up the piece. The song, "Sonata Quasi Una Fantasia" (otherwise known as the Moonlight Sonata)'s first movement, which is what I had received, was spread across four sheets of light pink, canvas-like paper. The notes upon it were golden and looked like they were pressed into the paper, rather than printed. The four thick sheets, along with the rest were bound together by a beautiful red ribbon and on the cover, it said "To Faye, Love Mama, Papa, Andy, and Beth" in beautiful silver lettering.
I just couldn't wait to get started.
As I started to play, the music overtook all my senses and by the time I was done with the first movement, I was breathless. It felt like I had played that piece a million times before already. I was so happy with it and I could tell with the look on my mom's face that she was pleased as well.
"Oh, Faye," she said, "I don't think that I've ever seen someone play the Moonlight Sonata's first movement so beautifully before, especially on the first try!"
I blushed because I had thought it was such a hard piece and I didn't think I did too well, but was incredibly happy that Mama thought I was so good. It was so much harder than Für Elise and more beautiful in some parts.
I started again as I found myself right in front of the door of the little building. The more I studied it, the more fascinated I was. The music had stopped, but I was more intrigued than ever. Hardly anybody played the piano anymore. Most people only played instruments at all because they had found their natural gift and decided to make some money off of it… besides Gren, of course.
I, myself, had never even thought of playing the piano for anybody other than myself before; then again, I never knew I knew how to play. 'I wonder… I wonder if I can still play,' I thought wistfully.
Quietly, I knocked on the door. Or, rather, what looked like a door. The moment I touched it, my hand went right through. It was a hologram. Curious, I stepped through the "door" and into the building.
