a/n: My, my. It has been a while since I have updated, hasn't it. Apologies. I got caught up with other ficcies I'm writing at the moment. But after some gentle prodding, I've decided it would be better if I simply finish this and get it over and done with. Then I'm left to concentrate on more interesting things.
CHERRY TOMATO
Session Twelve
Faye Valentine stood rigid on the staircase; unable to move when she heard the screams of the dying permeating the air from upstairs. She had seen flashes of almost blinding light from the open door as multiple guns were fired. A low murmur of voices could be heard. Spike? Dear God, what if he was…
Heart in mouth, Faye stumbled up the stairs and onto the landing. The plaster on the walls hung in tatters, riddled by hundreds of bullet holes.
"Spike?" Her voice was trembling, betraying her fear at what might lay in the room beyond. "Spike, Jet…if you're there, please answer me!" The voices had stopped. For one horrible second, Faye believed that her friends had all been murdered, and she would be the next to wind up with a bullet in her brain.
"Faye?" Jet appeared, staggering under Cadogen's weight as supported the wounded man. "What are you doing here?"
Faye bit back a scream of horror as she stared at Cadogen's face. Blood coursed down his cheeks in small rivers, then dripped from his chin to splatter on the floor.
"I…" The infamous Faye Valentine was for once- lost for words.
"You were just leaving, weren't you?" Spike limped through the doorway, a small revolver in each hand.
Faye had never seen him so angry.
"Well? I'd be right in guessing you took your ship over here. Get in it and fly straight back to the Bebop. Now."
"…You can't tell me what to do!" Now that Spike was obviously still alive, some of Faye's fiery temper had returned.
"Why the Hell do you think I said to stay there in the first place?" He said sharply. "Do you think I want to see you killed?" Spike crossed the short distance between them and held her arm in a vice-like grip. "Well, do you?"
Faye did not reply.
"Go now. Get back to Snap and Ed. They need you more than us right now."
"I can't." Faye looked guiltily at her shoes.
"Why not?"
"Because," Faye spoke to Spike's chest rather than his face- it was easier that way, "they came with me. They went to look for Ed's father downstairs."
Spike wanted to strike her in the face. It was bad enough that she had followed them when he specifically told her not to, but to bring the other two… He gritted his teeth and glared at Faye, who was fidgeting in hot shame. Cadogen gave a small whimper as Jet tore another of his shirtsleeves to bind his bleeding eyes. Spike flicked a glance over to them before loading the pistol in his right hand with another bullet.
"I don't want to do this, you know. But you've left me with no alternative." he pointed the loaded weapon at Faye. "Take Cad downstairs. Find the other two and leave immediately. This is not a request."
Faye stared down the barrel dumbly, not entirely sure what had just happened. Spike pulled back the pistol's hammer.
"Do it." he said in a deadly whisper. Tears of confusion and anger sparkled against Faye's pale skin as she drew back sharply towards the other two men. Jet gently placed Cad's hand in hers and ushered them to the stair-rail.
"Take it easy." the older man said softly, "But try to get out quickly. We'll follow if we're still…" Faye chewed her lip and nodded slightly. She wanted to haughtily brush past Spike and stalk down the stairs with all the indignation of being threatened with her imminent death allowed, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Her slender hand with long, delicate fingers reached out to him but was snatched back. She seemed to think the better of it before he could return the touch. Steeling herself, Faye gripped Cadogen's arm and guided him down the treacherous stairs.
Spike's gun followed them until they left through the door. Upon their disappearance, his finger relaxed from the trigger.
"A little extreme, wasn't it?" Jet commented dryly. Spike shrugged his shoulders and allowed a thin smile to grace his lips.
"You know Faye. A stubborn ass." Jet replied with a small smile.
"Let's continue shall we?"
"Ladies first." Spike bowed slightly and kicked a nearby door open. Jet cuffed his young comrade around the head as he edged past, gun raised and at the ready.
Fallen leaves that had blown in from outside lay accumulating along the peeling white painted skirting board of the hallway. The rendered stone walls also stood with blistering paint- forlorn and forgotten in the ancient mansion. The hall opened out into a large bare room. Instead of windows, it had massive gaps from floor to ceiling in the walls. A cold breeze swept up from the courtyard below and through the gaps in the cast iron railings.
A thin voice in the corner of the room spoke, "My, aren't I lucky? Not one, but two visitors." Vicious moved from the shadows concealing him, arms beneath the voluminous folds of his black overcoat. On the railing beside him perched his blue eyed crow companion- hopping from one foot to the other.
Instantly, Jet trained the gun on the other man's forehead.
"One move," he barked, "One move and I lodge a bullet in your brain prematurely."
"Now, now. Can't we be nice children and play together?" Jet emptied a clip of bullets that seared through the air. With a single fluid motion, Vicious dodged them and ran in a wide arc along the wall to where Jet was standing.
"Ahh, but I've just remembered- I never did like having playmates." Swiftly drawing back, Vicious narrowed his glittering eyes as he observed Jet clutching his stomach and sinking to the floor. Blood was rapidly soaking his shirt and escaping the pressures of his hands. He had been shot, and at point blank range.
"Jet? JET?!" Throwing caution to the wind, Spike dropped his weapons and skidded awkwardly to where Jet's bulky body lay huddled in a crippled mess on the floor. "Can you hear me? JET?" Spike roughly shook his shoulders and was rewarded with a faint groan. "You…bastard!" He directed his comment to Vicious and wiped his face with one hand. The blood from Jet's wound smeared and mixed with the sweat on his skin. "I'll kill you for that!"
Vicious ran gloved fingers delicately through his white hair.
"Try…if you want." Spike flung his arm backwards and groped on the floor for a fallen gun. "But how can you ever expect to extract vengeance from me if…you are already dead?" Spike's hand connected with the stock of the pistol and gripping it, he swept it out in front of him at chest height.
"What the hell are you babbling about?" he demanded as he lurched to his feet and fired a round in the other's direction. Again, Vicious flowed away from the attack and gave an inhuman sounding laugh that bounced off the walls.
"Already dead…you just don't know it yet."
"ENOUGH!" Spike roared. "Haven't you ever been called a 'BROKEN RECORD'?" The clip in Spike's right hand pistol now empty, he sharply withdrew to the cover of the wall to reload. Empty shells of bullets rolled smoking away on the dusty floor, scattered plentifully like sugar on cereal. But there was nothing sweet about this entire situation. Spike strained his ears to hear movements- footsteps, an occasional creaking of a floorboard…anything that would help give away Vicious' current position. He had to make some noise didn't he? Spike reasoned with himself. Unless he's learnt to hover in mid air in under five minutes. That was possible, but highly unlikely.
"Funnily enough…no." The wall where Spike's head had been but three seconds ago was crumbling away into a blizzard of volatile dust, as well as dangerous looking chunks of jagged plaster and wooden supports. So, it was time to play dirty, was it? Thought Spike. Well why don't I re-educate this…this…thing and bring him down to real dirt level? Spiegel style?
Smoothly flowing from beneath Vicious' outstretched arm, Spike pivoted on the spot and ground the barrel of his loaded weapon into the other man's ear. A long time passed in which nothing was said and nothing in the mansion stirred.
"Well?" Vicious asked quietly, "Isn't this the part where you pull the trigger?"
Spike ground his teeth and resolutely pulled the hammer of the gun backwards.
"You don't have the nerve, do you?" Vicious tapped is forehead with a gloved index finger and smiled slyly. "I know what you're thinking."
"Liar." Spike spat with disgust. "I can kill you now and still wake up tomorrow for a three course breakfast without feeling any remorse. I'd be doing the world a public service."
"Then do it already." As he spoke, Vicious was slowly unsheathing the small sword, which hung by a red silk cord at his hip. An oiled cloth run over the blade and the interior of the scabbard meant that barely a sound alarmed any person standing nearby to its deadly intentions.
"Just so you know…" Spike began saying. He intended to end by condescendingly remarking that his enemy may have done better by unsheathing his sword before their fight, when he found himself cut short.
"…There…is….no God where you're going." Jet looked at them upside down from his position on the floor. Blood from his wound was slowly spreading out across the floor so that it pooled darkly around his head. With what appeared to be a tremendous effort, Jet held one of the forgotten guns in slippery hands. Without hesitation, he squeezed the trigger and sent a single bullet spiraling through the air to tear through the black withered thing that was Vicious' heart.
The man who had caused so much grief, pain and tears seemed shocked to find himself so…mortal and offguard. A last summoning of strength allowed him to throw his sword clattering in Jet's direction, before forsaking the living world.
Spike could not bring himself to even dirty his boots by walking over the warm body. Skirting it, he hurriedly limped to his friend's still form.
"Jet?" he said softly, loosening the gun from the other man's stiff grip and letting it drop to the floor. "Jet?" A hint of desperation intermixed with fear sent Spike's voice quavering. Something flickered behind Jet's eyelids. It was exhausting to try and turn his head and focus his vision.
"Look after her, won't you?" he breathed laboredly.
"…After who?" Spike choked.
"…My…cherry tomato…promise me!"
Not completely understanding, Spike uttered, "I will." and squeezed Jet's red stained hand.
"…Then…everything…is as it should be." With a smile Jet closed his eyes and let his chest fall, air escaping his lungs with a sigh. It never rose again. Tenderly, Spike lowered the limp hand he grasped to the floor. Sliding backwards, he braced his shoulders against the wall and felt in his jacket pocket for a cigarette and a lighter. Finding both, he chewed an end of the cigarette and fumbled with the lighter, but his numb fingers couldn't work the catch.
Smiling sadly, Spike pulled it from his mouth and lay it beside Jet's body.
"Let's hope they let you smoke in heaven old man."
Dust settled thickly once again in the old forgotten mansion. The pulse of the world skipped a beat as it remembered its son, Jet Black and bade him farewell. Sunlight streamed in through the open spaces in the walls and warmed Spike's face. A tiny, unknown bird clung to a balcony railing as it twittered and sung…a broken blues melody.
a/n: Wow. I've actually….finished?
As a writer of dribble I would like to say thank-you to each individual for taking the time to read Cherry Tomato- the WHOLE thing, or just bits of it. I guard the support and praise you all gave me in a shoebox under my bed…().
I admit, writing this last session was somewhat of a struggle. I don't particularly do well with dramatic-type scenes, and it appeared that I'd be shopping around for my own burial plot before I got this posted.
But here it is- bullets, gizzards and all. Though, I'll say that I liked the last paragraph. I find it leaves the story with a lingering impression of hope, despite all the horrible atrocities I've inflicted on the poor characters.
Walk away from your computer knowing that sun is still shining outside and chocolate is only a walk to the shops away… Mmm…chocolate…
SEE YOU, SPACE COWBOY
Phe-chan