Wow, I can't begin to tell you all how long it took me to start this chapter, mainly because of how pivotal it is. Since I'm attempting to make this story seem believable in context with the series, I had to consider a lot of points made in the anime as opposed to what I originally thought I'd do with this chapter. So there was a lot of scrapping and rewriting. I thank you all so much for the support; writing this fic wears me out!

Another thing that slowed the update down is the fact that 1) my laptop currently is without Internet and 2) my disk drive wasn't detecting anything I put into it so I couldn't save the chapter to disk and post from another computer. Sorry. I finally went out and bought an external floppy disk drive and that seems to be working for now. So I apologize for the wait.

I hope you all approve of this chapter, but please bear in mind this is simply my imagination running wild. Who knows the exact events between Gren and Vicious on Titan? (Besides the author, but you know…)

Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't claim to own Cowboy Bebop, its story, characters or settings. I am making no profit from this fan story.

Note: Chapter title is from Yoko Kanno's "The Garden of Everything."

-- Kites Without Strings -- Part Twelve: Lovers Of Lost Dimensions

By Gundam Girl

Spike felt…warm. Almost uncomfortably so. But he reveled in the heat because though his memory was hazy at best, he did recall a feeling of such frigidity that it made his pulse skid a bit. He'd been so cold…and he'd fallen down, down into such blackness.

But he'd seen her. He'd seen his Julia and he hadn't been afraid. Her eyes, no matter what worry or fear they held, always put him at peace.

He couldn't move. He knew that without even attempting to do such a thing. His entire body felt like stone, heavy and tense. He noticed that each sense was returning to him, one by one. Through his left eyelid, he saw a crimson color that meant sunlight was shining on his from somewhere. But he knew he wasn't in his own bed; his sheets were satin, and what he was laying on was second-rate linen.

His sense of smell returned in a rather unwelcome way. He caught the atrocious scent of medicine and antibiotics. Oh, God…he was in a blasted hospital.

His hearing came to him in the next instant, and he nearly groaned from his displeasure at the notion of being stuck in some facility for invalids where there was nothing but solid boredom…

But then Spike heard the music. He didn't need a second thought to tell him that the voice was Julia's. He ceased all thinking for a few moments, hanging to every note of that serene tune, eager to let her gentle humming be all there was in the world.

He was suddenly desperate to see her. He wanted to watch her while she made that lovely sound, and with great effort he managed to open his left eye. He had to blink rapidly to adjust to the sudden light filtering in through the windowpane on the far end of the room, but his gaze quickly landed on her. He took in the sight of her shimmering, golden river of hair and the curve of her lips, though she was not smiling. Her eyes were downcast, focused on something in her hands…a book. She was reading peacefully to herself.

Her song ended, and he couldn't bear the lack of it. As of yet, he hadn't even paused to wonder why he could only see her through his left eye, so entranced was he by the music.

"Just like that," he murmured, his voice hoarse and gruff from such deep sleep. Julia's head darted up from her book, and her beautiful eyes leapt up to look straight into his. She immediately stood up from her chair and moved closer in one careful step as though she might disturb him if she walked too quickly. She leaned over him, her gaze full of concern.

Spike seized the chance to implore her further. "Sing for me...please."

Her worry lessened, and she smiled softly at him. Passing her hand over his damp forehead, she began her tune again, lulling him once more into a painless, dreamless sleep.

o0o

Vicious had known before entering the interrogation tent that his actions were going to cause people – one person in particular – to hurt. This realization had not stopped him; he had hurt many before in order to meet his goals. And his only goal now was to return to Mars. If there were necessary measures required for him to meet this goal, he would take them.

He didn't care what the fate was of Grencia Mars Elijah Duo Eckner. The only fate he cared about was his own and the ones he planned to seal fate for.

Leaving the tent, he stood just outside the range of the nearby lantern light and looked up at the stars. To him they were pinpoints of good, trapped in an overwhelming cover of evil. In this way, the night sky depicted life. Vicious smiled at the thought.

Already he could hear the authoritative whispers coming from the two military morons he had exchanged words with until just moments earlier. He may be forcing history to take a turn for the worse, or perhaps Vicious was merely moving things a pace. He couldn't be certain, nor could he honestly say he found what happened on this desert of a moon important. True importance took place on the red-tinted grounds of Mars.

The next morning word spread like wildfire through the squads that "that saxophone guy" had been arrested and was soon to be held for trial. Vicious, for the most part, ignored the gossip that mainly said Gren was the traitor. Vicious had no real proof of this fact; what he had was a man that got nervous over talk of betrayal and a few idiots with badges that were ready to believe anything from the mouth of a syndicate agent.

The odds were in his favor.

The one hitch Vicious hadn't counted on was the generals demanding a testimony from him at Gren's trial. Vicious wasn't worried; naturally, as a Red Dragon captain, he was skilled in the art of lying and would have very little trouble conjuring up verbal evidence of Gren's disloyalty.

It was only a couple of days after his meeting with the generals that the trial was held. Vicious sat silently in a row with a handful of others bearing testimonies to or against Gren's guilt. His place was behind where Gren was seated, so he couldn't see his partner's face, nor could the musician see him.

Political and military blather took up the better part of an hour, and it was nearly forty minutes before Vicious was called to make his statements. The syndicate agent rose coolly from his place and walked to the front of the group in long, even strides that proposed his confidence.

He swore truth to the tiny court, though inwardly he smirked at the use of the frivolous Bible. He found the novel quotable reading but little else. Then his eyes turned to the man he was condemning, and their gazes met.

Gren's expression, to his surprise, rattled Vicious. In it was fear, hate, anger, despair. Vicious couldn't recall ever seeing someone so full of grief before looking at the person he saw now. Of course, no one but Vicious could discern the change in his demeanor, and he looked up from the purple-haired soldier and at the presiding judge.

"My testimony against Grencia Eckner involves personal experience. I did not happen to stumble upon his passing battle tactics to a rebel spy," said Vicious calmly.

The judge gave him a mistrustful look, as though he waited for Vicious to give himself up instead of seeking to turn in Gren. "My interest has nothing to do with what you did not find this man doing."

"I'm simply stating that what any of the fools waiting to speak tell you is not at all the case." Vicious could feel the other men with testimonies tense with indignation. "I found out Eckner's actions when he told me them himself."

There was a surprised murmur that rippled through the group around them.

"I lured this man into his confession," Vicious told the judge, "as there would of course be no other way to get it. For the past week…" He studied the judge's expression carefully. "I have been sharing intimacy with this man hoping to procure the truth from him."

This time the surprise was no murmur but a shout and instead of rippling, it passed through the people like a tidal wave. But no one's outburst was as loud as Gren's shocked silence.

The judge was perspiring as he stared at Vicious critically. "In simple terms, Vicious…are you saying you slept with Eckner to get him to tell you he betrayed this unit?"

"Yes," said Vicious, not missing a beat.

"This is…outrageous," the judge muttered. "I have a hard time believing that someone such as you would go to such lengths to assure—"

"You realize, surely, that these efforts were not for this unit alone." Vicious eyed the judge solemnly. "Yet that topic is not relevant."

"I suppose that's right. And still, I'm confounded…"

Vicious tuned out the man's babbling and set his eyes on Gren again for a reason he didn't know. The purple-haired saxophonist had tears streaming down his face from his great indigo eyes. From the trembling of his lips and the spasms of his throat, Vicious could tell he was sobbing.

"I've nothing further to say," Vicious told the judge. With that, he strolled swiftly from the trial tent.

Outside, he happened upon one of the men he'd been interrogated by two nights earlier. It was the muscular, bald general. "I expect to be on my way home to Tharsus within three days," he told him. Though his tone was smooth, it projected the desired warning.

"It will be done," replied the general sternly. "You can count on it."

Vicious walked past him, the ends of his hair and the hem of his cloak flapping in the dry, Titan breeze. "Believe me; I will."

To his extreme displeasure, Vicious felt a certain heaviness in his stomach that he recalled faintly from boyhood. He didn't like the thought that the feeling might be guilt, but since it had been so long since he had come even close to experiencing that particular emotion, he thought he might just as easily have acquired a minor illness.

After all, he had absolutely no reason to feel guilt for the punishments he had just assured for Grencia Mars Elijah Duo Eckner.

o0o

When Julia had finally been able to talk to Spike without him dozing off every ten seconds, she did not beat around the proverbial bush. With an honest quickness, she told Spike that he had lost any sight in his right eye.

Spike, for his part, took the news relatively well. Though the first few seconds after hearing of his recent situation held nothing but a dark frown, he soon gave in to his usual grin and said in a teasing voice, "I don't need any eyes to make love to you."

Though Julia wished he would be more serious toward the development, she hadn't been able to help her responsive smile. "I guess you don't," she replied. "Anyway," she went on, sensing her lover wasn't eager to stay on the topic, "the doctor says you can move home in a day or two as long as someone cares for you. Will you be wanting to go back to your own apartment?"

Spike seemed to appreciate the way she worded the question. "Are you inviting me to your place?"

"No," she told him, her tone much more solemn. "I'm saying you also have the option of Annie's."

Spike's good eye winced. "Honey, I've got bandages everywhere. Don't get me wrong, I love Annie like my mother. But when it comes to hands all over me, do you think I'd rather have good ol' mom or the girl I'm crazy about doing the touching?"

In that sentence, Julia was indirectly assigned to Spike maintenance. While she would have preferred nothing more than to keep him close where she could attend to any need he might have, the thought of there being no clue when Vicious may return forced her to only spend most of each day in his apartment and leave the nights to his apartment building's well-paid staff.

Slowly, with each day that passed, Spike was able to lose more bandages and replace them with clothes. Once the last thing that remained was the square of cotton taped over his newly-replaced eye, Spike jokingly said, "I'm going to miss those sexy little sponge baths."

"They were time-consuming," Julia pointed out.

"They were the best," he insisted with a wide, silly grin. "So, nurse, when do I get to see my new eye? It had better be pretty, considering I only get to see you half as well anymore." Though Spike was attempting to be cheerful, there was a touch of irritation to his tone.

"Give it a couple more days, Spike," Julia said as she leaving for the day. "I've got to go meet with Lin and Shin. They're going to file the official report on your health condition and speak to Mr. Yenrai for you."

"Oh yeah? Well, when you see Shin, tell him I'm sorry about his car. I know I wouldn't like blood on my upholstery." He cackled at her disapproving look and continued laughing until she shut the door and her footsteps dissolved down the corridor.

And then he stopped smiling altogether.

Sitting up, he slowly stood from the couch he was lying on and, bracing himself with a hand on a nearby wall, he meandered his way over to a rectangular mirror near his kitchen counter.

He looked like himself. His hair was still green, his left eye was still its brownish-red, and aside from a few bruises left here and there, he was still the same Spike Spiegel he'd been before a lucky bastard with a knife had gotten the better of him.

The exception was that he felt almost painfully different. Despite his eye being put out of commission, he was beginning to see things a lot more clearly. As far as he knew, Vicious would walk in the door any minute and ask him what in the world had happened. He had no reason to lie about the events of the sting, so he wouldn't.

What he had to come up with a reason for was why Julia had been the one to watch over him for such a long while…even before he'd gotten hurt. Of course, the part of Vicious that was Spike's best friend would probably be grateful that his two closest companions were helping one another. But the silver-haired katana wielder often had multiple senses of judgment. And the part of Vicious that was Julia's lover would be jealous of Spike and Julia's recently shared passion for each other.

Murderously jealous.

If Spike thought of the situation as a member of the Red Dragon Clan syndicate, he would prefer that if he had to be killed, his best friend Vicious should do the honors. True, if only a few months before he had been facing death, Spike wouldn't have given more than an initial thought to it and would have gone bravely.

But he'd met Julia. He'd fallen in love with Julia. And Julia, to both his despair and his ecstasy, loved him just as much in return. And now death was the last thing Spike wanted to face if it meant that he and Julia would be separated.

Perhaps his train of thought was cowardly, and perhaps Spike had lost his feverish daredevil side. It seemed he'd traded in that part of his heart for part of a woman's. And now both he and that woman were facing danger, brought by someone they both had trusted not very long ago.

Life, Spike concluded, but nothing but a twisted mass of confusion and cruelty, with the occasional moment of happiness. But those moments were only there to make the punishment of later that much worse.

Thoroughly depressed, Spike turned away from the mirror, suddenly disliking the person reflected in it. He returned to the couch and lay down once more, but he didn't sleep. He stared up at the molded ceiling, making out shapes with his one, imaginative eye.

He was not surprised when he found a section of the patterned plaster to resemble a katana, dripping blood.

o0o

"Thanks so much, Shin. I really appreciate the effort." Julia's words as well as her smile were sincere as she shook the younger twin's hand. "Spike does as well."

"It's no problem. And tell him to never mind about the convertible. I can get another car." Shin paused and raised his dark eyes to the sky, as though pondering his own words. "Well, actually, it was a 7000 blue…"

Julia couldn't resist a quick chuckle. "Goodnight, Shin."

Shin grinned at her and gave a little bow before turning and practically dissipating into an adjacent shadow.

Julia left, and rather than taking a taxi from the syndicate office building she walked the five blocks to her neighborhood.

Lin and Shin, she mused, were both such good, charming guys. But it had always troubled her about how young they were. They were barely seventeen, and yet they had been members of the Red Dragons together since before Julia had even joined, and she was eight years their senior!

On another hand, she supposed she shouldn't be so surprised. The really skilled syndicate agents were probably raised to be members from even earlier ages.

It made her wonder just how long Vicious and Spike had been trained as agents. She hadn't realized before now that she'd not known.

As she slid the key into her door and unlocked it, Julia suddenly felt a very cold, very dangerous chill. The tiny hairs on her nape stood on end, and her fingers began to tremble lightly. On instinct, her hand reached for the .44 tucked into the waist of her pants.

Stop it, Julia told herself in the next instant. Her door had been locked, no one could get in. And she had an alarm that connected her apartment to the syndicate security team. There'd have been agents storming her building by now if someone was actually inside.

Assuring herself she was simply paranoid because of her meeting with Shin and Lin and the discussion of Spike's health, she turned the knob and went inside.

Before she could flip up the light switch, she felt icy fingers close over her wrist. Her startled shout froze in her throat as she heard a disturbingly familiar voice fall over her ears, the soft tones unwelcome.

"I'm home, Julia."

She turned her head slowly to look into the coal-dark eyes of Vicious.

o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o

Review please! (As a warning, I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to do with the next chapter! ;)