Welcome to chapter 7. This is the big "Oooh, Vicious is gone, let's see some action" chapter. You guys are such awesome reviewers, I wanted to let you know. Special thanks to Zippy, who put my portrayal of Vicious in better perspective for me. Hopefully, Zippy, with this chapter you'll have more belief in how I'm trying to explain things. Thanks!

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own Cowboy Bebop; its storyline, characters, or setting. I am making no profit from this fanwork.

Note: Chapter title is from "Call Me, Call Me" by Yoko Kanno.

-- Kites Without Strings -- Part Seven: Confusion Seeps Inside Me

By Gundam Girl

Ten minutes after Vicious hung up the phone, Spike burst into Julia's apartment. "What?" he demanded. "What's wrong? What is it?" When he saw Julia sitting calmly with Vicious at the table, a cup of green tea steaming between her hands, his posture relaxed considerably.

"You certainly look panicked," Vicious commented, sipping his own tea. His icy eyes watched his friend from over the rim of the cup.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Spike cursed, angrily slamming the door behind him and plopping down in a vacant chair. "From your message, I thought something had happened. Like Julia got kidnapped or something."

"What?" Julia asked. "Why?"

"Mr. Descriptive here calls me up and says, 'You need to come to Julia's. Now.' I'm thinking there was some serious shit going down." Spike leaned toward the table, his forehead dropping into his palm. "Get a freakin' vocabulary, won't you, Vicious?"

After Julia had poured and handed a third cup of tea to Spike and he had downed half of it in one gulp, Vicious set his palms flat against the surface of the table. "I do have something important to tell you. Both of you," he said, turning his eyes to Julia and keeping them there. "I had a meeting with Mao Yenrai today."

Spike tensed, but Julia just emanated confusion. "Is that a big deal?" she asked. "Don't you meet with him almost every day?"

"It was private," said Vicious, "in his very apartment. He asked me if I knew anything about current events." He took a breath, though his exterior remained cool. "He will be sending me to Titan with a squad of Dragons. We are going to fight in the war."

There was a long pause filled with silence. Vicious watched as his girlfriend and his best friend stared at him with identical expressions of shock and probably denial.

Spike was the first to say anything. "You?" His ruby eyes blinked once, twice, and he shook his green-haired head in disbelief. "Why you? What good can you do?"

Vicious gave a small snort, not of amusement, but of slight offense. "Well, we'll see, won't we?" He reached for his tea again, but a pale hand landed on his own before he could grab his cup. His gaze followed the arm up until he found Julia's face, full of anguish.

"But if you…" She swallowed. "If you go, you could die. Vicious…you could die!" she exclaimed.

If Vicious had been a normal man, he might have been moved by such concern. As it was, he was not a normal man and responded very stonily to Julia's shaking voice. "Yes." He slowly pried her fingers away from his arm. "I could."

Julia watched, amazed and somewhat disgusted, as Vicious merely drank more of his tea. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream at him for not being the man she wanted to love. The man she wanted to love would be frightened at the prospect of going to war, of leaving her. The man she wanted to love was sitting next to her, just as worried and fearful as herself. "And…is that all you can say?"

Vicious lowered his cup again, meeting her eyes with firm resolve inscribed in his expression. "It's all I'm going to say."

Julia leaned back in her chair, away from him, and, inevitably, closer to Spike. She nearly jumped when Spike's hand landed gently on her shoulder.

"Are you really going to be cold toward this situation?" asked Spike, apparently just as incredulous as the golden-haired woman he was attempting to indirectly comfort at the moment. "Aren't you going to protest or suggest someone else?"

Vicious lip curled into the slightest of snarls. "What's that about?" he demanded. "Is that cowardice that you're expecting from me, Spike? In all the time you've known me, do you suspect that I'm just going to shirk the responsibilities given to me by the syndicate? To deny the honor that they think I will be useful in such a monumental event in the universe today?"

"Oh, so it's honorable that they want you to die?!" exclaimed Spike, shooting from his chair and slamming his hands down onto the table. The teapot and cups rattled in the quake. "It's honorable that they don't give a damn whether you come back or not?"

Vicious shook his head. "Whatever you don't expect of me, Spike, I can say that I didn't expect you to understand what this means to me. The syndicate is life for me. I thought it was the same for you."

"It is," Spike told him coolly. "But damn it, I kind of need my life to work in the syndicate, don't I?"

Vicious only sighed. "I didn't think you'd be this upset."

"What are you talking about?"

"Well, with me gone, you'll have to lead the section. I'm not about to put authority into Lin and Shin's hands." Vicious smirked a little. "That means power for you."

"Why the hell," Spike asked contemptuously, "do I want power?"

"Because that's what life is," the light-haired syndicate leader said. His eyes held a faint, not happy but not unhappy, glow that neither Spike nor Julia could interpret. "And you want to live your life, don't you?"

"If that's life, then I guess…" Spike threw he head back, letting out a small smile of his own. "I guess I'd rather live a dream." He grabbed his cup and flung the rest of his tea down his throat. "Julia." He turned to see the woman's pale face staring down at the table; it seemed she'd been shocked by the horrible argument between her lover and Spike. "You okay?"

Julia forced herself from her dazed state. "Yeah," she replied, shutting her eyes for a second. "Yes, I'm…" She met Spike's eyes, and her heart twisted. "I'll be fine."

Spike nodded. "Thanks for the tea." He turned to Vicious. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning. The nine o' clock shuttle." Vicious' eyebrows lowered.

Spiegel shrugged. "Maybe I'll make it to see you off." He pulled the collar of his trench up; it was raining outside.

"Spike," Vicious called, efficiently making his friend pause. "What happened to your face?"

The other man lifted his fingers to the thin, fairly long scratch at his left cheekbone. He recalled the slap Julia had given him the night before. "I irritated a woman," he said. "Bye." Not letting himself look back, Spike forcibly turned the knob of the door and half-stomped out of the apartment. But he shut the door gently.

Vicious and Julia listened to his angry steps echo down the stairs. Julia stood up suddenly, gathering cups and the teapot. She carried them to the sink and practically flung them down, her first sign of being upset.

Her eyes caught movement outside the rain-spattered window above the sink. Spike's brown-coat-wearing figure moved along the sidewalk, hands shoved deep in his pockets with his head down. He looked pissed off and more, he looked helpless.

Julia wasn't surprised when she felt large hands slip around her waist. The fingers curled into the cotton of her sweater, and she felt Vicious' hot breath against her neck as he said, "He'll be annoyed for awhile. You probably know that by now."

Julia nodded. "He's too good of a friend sometimes." Vicious made a sound of agreement. She waited a beat, then asked in a whisper, "You don't really want to go, do you?"

His grip on her tightened for a moment, then relaxed. One of his hands rose up to lightly fondle her right breast, suggesting without words. "Do you," he whispered, "really not want me to go?"

She turned her head to face him. "Vicious—" Julia was instantly cut off by his kiss; a rough, heartless friction of sensitive flesh against even more sensitive flesh. His hand pressed against her harder, and she stumbled back, trapped between him and the kitchen counter. When he finally pulled away, she gasped for breath, opening her eyes to look at him.

Vicious' face was tense, his eyes wild with unsatisfied lust. It would be, she thought, up to her to slake it. It was probably the least she could do. This she figured as she rose on her toes to meet him for another kiss as she hastily pulled apart the buttons of his shirt. Most likely, it would be their last time together.

She was just thankful that he had missed the connection between her and Spike after all.

---

Moonlight slanted into Julia's bedroom, thanks to the one curtain that was pulled back away from the window. Occasionally, a car went by, its headlights trailing a streak of white across the walls, over the head of the woman sleeping on her stomach beside him.

Vicious sat up, feeling just a bit restless. He figured he should be getting some sleep, with his departure for Titan approaching in – he glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand next to him – seven hours. But something nagged at him, forcing him awake and zinging his brain like electricity.

Maybe he wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't been drinking tea at that moment, peering over the rim of the teacup. Or maybe he wouldn't have noticed it if he hadn't already been riled up. But he had definitely felt an intense suspicion when Spike had asked if Julia had been okay. And his mind, now, was racing as he remembered the almost protective way Spike had set his hand on Julia. And how Julia hadn't reacted poorly to it.

Stop it. He reached over to the nightstand and turned on the small lamp, satisfied when Julia remained asleep. He opened the drawer, reached for the small bottle of brandy he kept there. His fingers ended their journey mere centimeters away from the bottle, and he pulled them back, opting to dig his fingers in the sheet pulled up to his bare waist instead. His chin fell to his chest.

It was strange and unsettling that he could feel this way about a single, hardly important woman, so fierce, so…possessive. Did it matter, though? He was going to war today. Probably he'd never see her again, never feel her again. She'd stay here with…

Vicious' eyes glinted in the dual light of the lamp and the moon. There was a dangerous quality to him, and if someone saw him now, they would probably have backed away in fear. He felt brutal. He felt like he could tear something apart with his hands.

He looked at Julia. A small sound of lividness scraped out from his throat. He ordered himself to keep his temper in check. He could be wrong, couldn't he? She might only think of Spike a friend, a brother even. She could be distraught that he was going to Titan instead of anticipating it.

He flicked the light off and lay back down. Beside him, she stirred. He shut his eyes, preparing to feign sleep if she woke up.

She rolled over. Vicious thought she might have opened her eyes and seen him. But then, Julia just rolled back to her previous position, and her breathing deepened again.

She wouldn't miss him, he thought. Not a damn bit.

---

The next morning at eight-fifty, the shuttleport was jam packed with hundreds of Mars citizens, all wishing to see off and bid farewell to their relatives or friends that were leaving for Titan, whether on orders or out of volunteering. Julia had been waiting there with Vicious for thirty minutes and had yet to catch sight of Spike.

Would he really be so angry, she wondered, that he wouldn't come to see his friend before he left and maybe never came back? Julia checked her watch again. Eight-fifty-four. Pull through on this one, Spike, she thought. He may have been a prick, but he was a prick that Vicious needed right now.

She saw him then. He came out between two Russians making out shamelessly. They cursed at the grinning man in their native language. She saw Spike roll his eyes. When he was near them, his smile sobered and he aimed it at Vicious.

"Would it be okay for me to still hope we're friends?"

Vicious smiled; Spike and Julia were too relieved to see him do so that they didn't notice how firm his mouth was. "Of course," he replied. "And is it safe for me to assume you'll take care of things for me while I'm away?"

"Just come back soon," Spike ordered. "I don't like the responsibility."

Julia could have laughed. They were so opposite each other; Vicious cold and calm, Spike dynamic and energetic. Both were, in their own ways, smooth.

Smooth. Suddenly remembering, she delved into her deep coat pocket. "Vicious, here!" she said enthusiastically. "Oh, God, I'd have killed myself if I forgot to give it to you."

Vicious looked down. In Julia's outstretched hand lay a small lacquered black box. There was a tiny silver handle, and on the lid, a miniature red dragon curled itself around its long tail.

"Well, don't just stare at it," Spike said. "Play the thing."

Slowly, Vicious turned the tiny handle a few times. Notes tinkered out in sounds of little bells, playing a lustrous melody. When Julia had first heard the song, she had thought of the word "smooth."

"Jazz," noted Spike. "Classy choice, there, Julia."

"It's melancholy," Vicious commented. He looked up at the woman smiling at him, realizing that if he ever did play it, endless images of her would appear in his mind. Whether they were of Julia with him…or Spike.

Julia shrugged. "I suppose it is. I got it because of the dragon, really, but if you know of something else you'd like, maybe I can send it to…" She saw Vicious' look and stopped speaking. "Of course," she smiled. "You never tell me what gifts you'd like to have."

Vicious curled his hand around the music box, clutching it for a moment. Then he dipped it into his own pocket. "Thank you."

Julia waved it away. "It was nothing. Something to remember me better on cold nights." She stepped forward, trying to stay as casual as possible with her heart cantering in her chest. "Goodbye, Vicious."

He leaned down and kissed her, kissed her like he wanted to drain the life from her and force it into his own body. Maybe he did. "I'll be back," he whispered to her.

Julia's chest tightened; not out of hope, but of small fear. "I…believe you," she managed.

Vicious turned from her and held his hand out toward his friend. "Spike?"

"Don't get shot." It was good enough advice, Spike thought as he shook the other man's hand. "Seriously. Take care."

"You too." He turned, ready to board the shuttle that would take him to the sandy planet where death waited for thousands of men. "One more favor," he said then to Spike. "This is of the utmost importance." A test.

"Okay," Spike said. His tone was wary, but undetectably so.

Vicious' eyes sharpened. "Take care of Julia for me."

Both of them reacted marginally; Julia looked at the ground, and Spike inhaled sharply through his nose, but he recovered well. "Didn't you say to take care of things?" he said. "I would assume your…Julia would be included." He hadn't been able, Spike thought with some guilt, to say "your girlfriend."

"All right then." He walked away satisfied. He didn't need to look back to know that both Spike and Julia were staring at him with horrified expressions. Vicious knew everything he needed to.

And in his time away from them, he would be able to figure out exactly how he wanted to proceed when he returned home to Mars. And he would return to Mars.

He would survive easily knowing that there was a mission to accomplish once the war ended.

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