A/N: Thank you all who reviewed. I will allow you to live! ::evil
laughter:: Anyways, this next chapter is probably where the real story
starts. (If there really is a story...) Mmmm. If you're a Julia fan BE
WARNED!!! Not that I do anything mean to her but... well, you'll just have to
read and find out. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop ::tear::
* * *
He leaned nonchalantly against the building, cigarette laying half forgotten between his lips. People pretty much ignored him as they passed except for an odd glance every once and again, and that's how he wanted it. He needed to think, to get his thoughts in line. He needed to figure out who he was. What he was.
Something had drawn him to Mars. Something had made him come to this planet, something inside telling him that this was where he would find his answers. Well, he had been here for a few weeks now and no answers had presented themselves.
Feeling a sudden surge of frustration he spun and slammed his fist into the wall, growling at the poor man who happened to be passing by at that moment. Damn it, who was he? Why couldn't he remember? What the hell had happened to him?
The anger passed and he slumped to the ground, back against the wall again. Reaching into his pocket he grabbed another cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag. He was pathetic, but he really didn't give a damn.
Angry shouts down the street caught his attention, and despite himself, he was intrigued. 'What the hell' he thought, and got to his feet, sauntering towards the fuss. The crowd was pretty thick and he had to weave through several people just to get a glimpse. The first thing he saw was a young girl (boy?) launching his/her self at a poor defenseless man lying on the ground.
"You broke Ed's preciousssss!!! Now Ed will break you!" Clothing flew, and he winced in sympathy as a particular painful blow was laid. He thought for a moment about helping, than decided against it. It was far more amusing just to watch. Besides, the men who were trying to help were getting beaten up themselves.
He leaned back on his heels, deciding to enjoy the show while it lasted. At least that was his plan, until his eyes fell on the woman who stared at him transfixed, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Her violet hair hung around her face and she war a skimpy pair of yellow shorts. He waved a hand curiously and she snapped out of her trance, eyes suddenly filling with fear. That was odd. She was the first person to be afraid of him, as far as he could remember, which wasn't far.
She put her hands up to her face, trembling like a leaf in the wind, and he could have sworn, though it was hard to tell from this distance, that she was crying. Debating with himself for a moment, he finally decided to confront her, so he skirted around the crazy he/she and cocked his head to the side when he reached the strange young woman. Despite himself hope welled up in his chest, which he quickly tried to quell. For all he knew, the woman could be psycho. It could just be a false hope. Nothing more.
"Can I help you?"
- - -
He had spotted her and was coming towards her. It couldn't be him! It couldn't be, he was dead! He was dead, dead, dead. He stopped in front of her and she took an involuntary step back, staring into his eyes. His unique eyes. Spike's eyes.
"Can I help you?" he asked in a bored voice, and she felt the tear slide down her cheek, as she recognized it as the one that she had held many raging arguments with. It was him. He was alive.
"Spike." She whispered softly, then a little louder. "Spike. Is it really you? How can it be you?" His gaze sharpened when she said his name.
"You know who I am?" he demanded, and she threw her arms around his neck, laughing in disbelief.
"Of course I know who you are! As if I could forget. Oh, Spike, I must be dreaming! It really is you! God, I've missed you so much!" She pushed back suddenly and slapped him, getting up into his face where she could properly yell. "You didn't call, you didn't write, we had no idea that you were still alive! You selfish bastard, do you have any idea how much Jet and I have gone through all because you decided to disappear! You could have come back! We would have been so happy to see your face, but no! You had to go off, and leave us to fend for ourselves and mourn for you when you weren't even dead! You could have contacted us at least once..." she ranted on a bit more, ignoring the extremely confused expression on his face, and then her voice softened and she threw her arms back around his neck. "Oh, it doesn't matter. Thank goodness you're back."
She felt him stiffen, and he suddenly pulled away, staring at her without comprehension. She saw the look of confusion in his eyes, and he suddenly spun around, staring at the people around him in fear.
"Who-, who are you?" he demanded harshly, stumbling away from her when she stretched a hand out towards him.
"Spike," she said softly, hurt. "It's me. Faye. Faye Valentine."
- - -
Flash of yellow. He pulled away from the woman, suddenly disoriented. A laughing face. A pair of green eyes smiling up at him. A hand hitting his face, and stinging his cheek. A voice raised in anger. "Bastard!" A frightened expression on the fear before him, a shower...
He stumbled farther away, colors swirling around in his vision. He focused on the woman before, the woman in the strange images.
"Who are you?" he asked, trying to put a name to her face. She extended a hand towards him and he avoided it. He couldn't let her touch him again. Not yet
"Spike, it's me. Faye. Faye Valentine." The name triggered another set of images played through his head, this time of a red ship and a silver arm. A mans face flashed quickly through but was gone before he could do anything about it.
"Spike-person?" he turned and the he/she from before looked up at him in disbelief before launching itself at him. "Spike-person! Ed knew that you would come back!"
"Get away from me!" he gasped, prying her arms away. It was too late.
A flash of red. A young girl tumbling into the room, a dog shaking its head. A computer, a message carved into the sand.
It was too much. All too much. He had to get away, had to think. Faye tried to touch him again, but he avoided her hand, tripping over himself in his desperation to get away.
"Don't touch me! He shouted, climbing unsteadily back to his feet. "Stay away from me!" He looked at them one more time, so confused, before turning and running, refusing to acknowledge their following cries.
"Spike!"
* * *
A/N: So what did you think? Huh? Huh? Tellmetellmetellme! I neeeeeddddd
your reviews.
Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop ::tear::
* * *
He leaned nonchalantly against the building, cigarette laying half forgotten between his lips. People pretty much ignored him as they passed except for an odd glance every once and again, and that's how he wanted it. He needed to think, to get his thoughts in line. He needed to figure out who he was. What he was.
Something had drawn him to Mars. Something had made him come to this planet, something inside telling him that this was where he would find his answers. Well, he had been here for a few weeks now and no answers had presented themselves.
Feeling a sudden surge of frustration he spun and slammed his fist into the wall, growling at the poor man who happened to be passing by at that moment. Damn it, who was he? Why couldn't he remember? What the hell had happened to him?
The anger passed and he slumped to the ground, back against the wall again. Reaching into his pocket he grabbed another cigarette and lit it, taking a long drag. He was pathetic, but he really didn't give a damn.
Angry shouts down the street caught his attention, and despite himself, he was intrigued. 'What the hell' he thought, and got to his feet, sauntering towards the fuss. The crowd was pretty thick and he had to weave through several people just to get a glimpse. The first thing he saw was a young girl (boy?) launching his/her self at a poor defenseless man lying on the ground.
"You broke Ed's preciousssss!!! Now Ed will break you!" Clothing flew, and he winced in sympathy as a particular painful blow was laid. He thought for a moment about helping, than decided against it. It was far more amusing just to watch. Besides, the men who were trying to help were getting beaten up themselves.
He leaned back on his heels, deciding to enjoy the show while it lasted. At least that was his plan, until his eyes fell on the woman who stared at him transfixed, like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. Her violet hair hung around her face and she war a skimpy pair of yellow shorts. He waved a hand curiously and she snapped out of her trance, eyes suddenly filling with fear. That was odd. She was the first person to be afraid of him, as far as he could remember, which wasn't far.
She put her hands up to her face, trembling like a leaf in the wind, and he could have sworn, though it was hard to tell from this distance, that she was crying. Debating with himself for a moment, he finally decided to confront her, so he skirted around the crazy he/she and cocked his head to the side when he reached the strange young woman. Despite himself hope welled up in his chest, which he quickly tried to quell. For all he knew, the woman could be psycho. It could just be a false hope. Nothing more.
"Can I help you?"
- - -
He had spotted her and was coming towards her. It couldn't be him! It couldn't be, he was dead! He was dead, dead, dead. He stopped in front of her and she took an involuntary step back, staring into his eyes. His unique eyes. Spike's eyes.
"Can I help you?" he asked in a bored voice, and she felt the tear slide down her cheek, as she recognized it as the one that she had held many raging arguments with. It was him. He was alive.
"Spike." She whispered softly, then a little louder. "Spike. Is it really you? How can it be you?" His gaze sharpened when she said his name.
"You know who I am?" he demanded, and she threw her arms around his neck, laughing in disbelief.
"Of course I know who you are! As if I could forget. Oh, Spike, I must be dreaming! It really is you! God, I've missed you so much!" She pushed back suddenly and slapped him, getting up into his face where she could properly yell. "You didn't call, you didn't write, we had no idea that you were still alive! You selfish bastard, do you have any idea how much Jet and I have gone through all because you decided to disappear! You could have come back! We would have been so happy to see your face, but no! You had to go off, and leave us to fend for ourselves and mourn for you when you weren't even dead! You could have contacted us at least once..." she ranted on a bit more, ignoring the extremely confused expression on his face, and then her voice softened and she threw her arms back around his neck. "Oh, it doesn't matter. Thank goodness you're back."
She felt him stiffen, and he suddenly pulled away, staring at her without comprehension. She saw the look of confusion in his eyes, and he suddenly spun around, staring at the people around him in fear.
"Who-, who are you?" he demanded harshly, stumbling away from her when she stretched a hand out towards him.
"Spike," she said softly, hurt. "It's me. Faye. Faye Valentine."
- - -
Flash of yellow. He pulled away from the woman, suddenly disoriented. A laughing face. A pair of green eyes smiling up at him. A hand hitting his face, and stinging his cheek. A voice raised in anger. "Bastard!" A frightened expression on the fear before him, a shower...
He stumbled farther away, colors swirling around in his vision. He focused on the woman before, the woman in the strange images.
"Who are you?" he asked, trying to put a name to her face. She extended a hand towards him and he avoided it. He couldn't let her touch him again. Not yet
"Spike, it's me. Faye. Faye Valentine." The name triggered another set of images played through his head, this time of a red ship and a silver arm. A mans face flashed quickly through but was gone before he could do anything about it.
"Spike-person?" he turned and the he/she from before looked up at him in disbelief before launching itself at him. "Spike-person! Ed knew that you would come back!"
"Get away from me!" he gasped, prying her arms away. It was too late.
A flash of red. A young girl tumbling into the room, a dog shaking its head. A computer, a message carved into the sand.
It was too much. All too much. He had to get away, had to think. Faye tried to touch him again, but he avoided her hand, tripping over himself in his desperation to get away.
"Don't touch me! He shouted, climbing unsteadily back to his feet. "Stay away from me!" He looked at them one more time, so confused, before turning and running, refusing to acknowledge their following cries.
"Spike!"
* * *
A/N: So what did you think? Huh? Huh? Tellmetellmetellme! I neeeeeddddd
your reviews.