Ok, here is the new chapter three, containing some of the stuff that I was too lazy to write into the first draft of this story.
Oh, yeah, the disclaimer. How many times do I have to tell you people that I don't own Cowboy Bebop?
Chapter 3: Hey, Jealousy
Stars, so tiny and numerous lit the night sky. Meteors streaked past the remaining fragments of yellow moon, white tongues of fire licking the atmosphere before crashing to earth. Vicious frowned, shifting his attention back to the report in his hand. It was nothing important, just mundane status reports from his spy network. He didn't need to read about Faye Valentine's capture, he was there after all.
His memories of that evening were skewed at best. It had been a good plan, using her against Spike. Could he have just waltzed up to Spike any time demanding a fight? Certainly, but the wounds wouldn't have been as painful. No, Spike needed to suffer, just as he had suffered. He still suffered, even though it had been three years.
"Time heals all wounds," he muttered spitefully, crushing the flimsy pages in his fist.
He stood and walked to the window of his tenth floor office. Rarely did syndicate business take him to earth, but he had an office there nonetheless. He glanced at the lights of the city around him. New San Francisco wasn't a pretty city like Tharsis, his home base on Mars. For all it's size and structure, it had a precarious feel to it, as if it knew it could be destroyed any second by an errant meteorite. Cold blue eyes wandered back to the moon, and for a moment he wondered what it used to look like, shining high and noble over the crown jewel of the solar system. He shook the useless thought away, silver tresses escaping the low pony tail he wore. His mind turned back to that night. Had it only been two days ago?
How had he lost control? He never lost control of himself, never showed any emotions, especially to those he considered beneath him. Only two other people had ever seen such an emotive outburst from him. Julia and Spike. The woman he had loved, still loved in spite of himself, and his former best friend.
Julia was the only woman to ever have any kind of effect on him for either good or ill. Before he met her six years ago, he hadn't believed such a woman existed. He remembered the first time he saw her, late one night in a coffee house. The Mars sky had been so clear that night, when a freak thunderstorm erupted. He ran into the nearest building at the same time as she had, bumping heads in the rush for the door.
"I'm so sorry, are you all right?" she asked in that rich voice she possessed.
He looked up into the face of an angel, who was smiling, it seemed, just for him.
"I'm sorry, it was my fault," he heard himself reply, returning her magical smile with a genuine one of his own.
"Well, since we seem to both be at fault, perhaps you would like to share a table and a latte with me?" she invited, nodding her head toward a secluded spot in the corner of the dimly lit room.
"That would be nice," he said amiably, inwardly surprised that he had accepted her offer.
He followed her wordlessly to the small table tucked behind a potted tree, watching the sway of her black clad hips under her pink sweater. Just then, she turned, the light catching her blue eyes exploding like sapphires, and his heart began to beat the rhythm of a warm blooded man for the first time in his life.
"Bye the way,' she called over her shoulder, "I'm Julia…"
They were together almost daily after that first night. She was young and soft, a not –quite blueblood just out of college looking for her place in the world. He got her a job in the lower levels of the syndicate as a receptionist for one of their front operations, but she quickly moved up, thanks to his increasing status.
Three years he spent with her. Three glorious years. Vicious had found a love that should have been envied by every man, and he knew it. Spike had known it to, and did. It was right after his last promotion one evening in a bar when the first signs of something not quite right should have gotten his attention. He and Spike were out celebrating, just drinking and talking like best friends do. He had bought it that day, and it was still wrapped up in his coat pocket, waiting for the perfect moment. He fingered the velvet box nervously as Spike prattled on about the last girl he had dumped.
"Spike," Vicious interrupted. "Don't you ever think of marriage?"
Spike's mouthful of beer sputtered across the table in a gush of shocked gasps. He wiped his shirt sleeve over his mouth, eyes wide and disbelieving.
"WHAT!" he finally managed.
"Well, that's an obvious answer if I ever heard one," Vicious replied, smirking.
"You mean….Julia? You're going to?"
"Well, I'm going to ask her, but I'm sure she'll want to," he said a bit uncomfortably.
Just then he noticed Spike's face. He had grown pensive and silent, brooding into his beer. He brushed it off, thinking Spike 'the Eternal Bachleor' Speigel would never understand.
"Do you really think that's a good idea, Vicious? It's a big step. The biggest," he said in a low voice, frowning. "How do you know she is the one?"
"I just do."
It was only after he had found out about his friend and his girlfriend's affair that he understood Spike's reaction…
The ringing of the phone broke into his memories. Grateful for the interruption, he threw the crumpled papers back onto his desk.
"Vicious," he answered in his usual cold tone.
So cold….so dark. She shivered, trying to wrap her arms around herself, only to find that she was unable to move. She felt her nakedness, a million slithering hands stroking her skin.
"Pathetic…"whispered a multitude of hissing voices.
"Whore…"another group agreed.
"Worthless slut," said one eerily familiar voice. It came closer, seeming to be all around her.
"Go away! Leave me alone!" she screamed, but no sound came from her. Her words echoing in her mind.
"No one can help you," the voice said, next to her ear. "They wouldn't anyway. Remember, he doesn't give a shit about you. Isn't that what you said?"
A new hand added itself to those already abusing her body, pinching and kneading her flesh. She felt dirty, so dirty. Inside and out.
"What have I done to deserve this?" she cried in her head, feeling tears drip down her face. Somehow she knew they were made of blood, her blood.
Then his face came into view. Those cold eyes shredding her sanity, piercing her to the core, raping her mind as well as her body. He reached out one cold hand and captured her throat, crushing it slowly, devil's smile never leaving his face…
She awoke with a choked gasp, only to find herself immobilized. Her face was pressed into a very obviously male chest, arms wrapped around her, preventing her from moving. Her breath quickened, tears rushing down her cheeks as she struggled to get off the sleeping man.
She would have jumped ten feet away from him if she had been capable of doing so; but she had to settle for rolling off of him into an exhausted heap between his body and the wall. She lay there, breathing rapidly, trying not to hyperventilate. He was sprawled everywhere so she couldn't avoid touching him. Her sobs grew louder until she was almost wailing as she succumbed to the terror of being alone with a man.
He bolted upright on the bed, drawing his gun and sweeping the room in one quick motion. Finding nothing amiss, he holstered the weapon and turned his attention to the hysterical woman next to him.
"Faye! What's wrong?" he asked in a panicky voice, not sure how deal with her.
He reached out a hesitant hand and lightly touched her arm. She screamed, yanking the appendage away as if she had been burned, and half jumped half crawled toward the foot of the bed.
"Don't touch me! Get out get out get out get out!" she cried as he grabbed her gently around the waist and pulled her back to him.
"Faye, calm down! I'm not going to hurt you! It's just me. Spike. Just calm down," he said quietly into her ear, rocking her back and forth as she struggled for even breath.
"Spi-ike," she wept in a choked whisper, finally regaining control of herself.
"Shhhh, it's ok. You're safe; he's not here. I won't let anyone hurt you," he soothed.
She finally stopped thrashing and settled onto his lap, breathing heavily as he continued to rock her like a child. He reached over to the tray beside the bed for the glass of water she had been drinking with her lunch and handed it to her. She accepted it with shaking hands and sipped the cool liquid, trying not to spill. Silently she handed the glass back to him, then buried her face in her hands.
"It was a dream," she whispered to herself, trying to convince her sanity to return.
"Nightmare?" Spike asked, loosening his grip on her now that the crisis was over.
She simply nodded her reply and slid off his lap to the floor.
"Where are you going," he asked her.
"Bathroom," she mumbled, too embarrassed to look at him.
"Um…are you," he began deciding against asking her if she was ok, since the answer to that was fairly obvious.
"hmmm?" she paused, not turning.
"Can I get something for you?" he finally asked, feeling just as awkward as she did.
"Yeah, something to wear out of this place," she said monotone.
The bathroom door clicked shut.
Well, that's the new chapter. Hope you liked. I was aiming to show Vicious' human side, or the one he used to have, and a little hint at why he was such a twisted monster. How'd I do?
Until next time…..