Summary: During his rest on Calisto, Gren recalls his fated meeting with Vicious. Vicious/Gren slash

Warning: implied m/m relationship

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop or any characters/concepts there in.

Interlude

Between the beginning and the end, there is a break- a pause of transition. In this lull, we loose ourselves. And before long, it all begins again.

Chapter two - prelude

Three years later, I stand in the warm, red spotlight of a small stage, in a bar, on a forgotten moon. The mouthpiece of a saxophone rests against my lips and the few crowded in the bar hush in expectance-they're waiting for me to play.

Tonight, after so long, I'm about to perform the song that got me here. That one lilting melody that haunted me for three years, that was my very existence till the point of breaking, is going to be heard; because soon, it'll all end.

It' s rather ironic really, that after spending two years in a cold, dark prison cell I'd end up in another cold, dark place. Another place where we're all convicts and wanted men, where we're still alone, and where nothing will ever change.

No one asks where you came from or why you're here; they just understand you're one and the same. And after a while, you come to accept that. Maybe I do belong here, because I was foolish enough to trust and believe, to leave myself at the hands of a "comrade".

Two years ago, I met her, Julia. She was the one to tell me the whole truth. She had seen the pictures in my apartment and the music box that began everything, even told me to break it apart. No one really expects to have the reason for their false conviction sitting on a surface in their own home, where it's been sitting all along.

I had seen something like pity in that woman's sad, beautiful smile. She understood Vicious, as best as any one could, and I knew she had been dealt a blow by that man as well. When we had found the transmitter hidden within the gears, the rage which had burned in me in prison dissipated. I had grown mad at the thought of Vicious, but seeing the truth in front of me at that moment seemed unreal. The utter grief had built in my stomach, and even now I'm holding out for another truth.

Julia left the same way she had came, drifting out one night when we were all most distracted. Once that one tie to Vicious was gone, I started to contemplate everything again. Those nights were spent the same as when I was lying in prison-planning and thinking.

And now, it all fits together. Vicious is vicious: cruel and terribly clever, Julia had said the same. When he had found me that night in the desert, he had been protecting his own life. I was his scapegoat, the one meant to die in his stead. Had I known the hell he'd put me through, I just might have kept walking back then-might.

Eyes closed, I begin to play. My breath comes harshly at first, awkwardly, until I forget whose song it is. And I loose myself there, finding that the world has drawn close into one point in time. There's nothing then but the music; and I call it forth with the same lips that touched Vicious.

Would I have regretted leaving behind that night? My fascination for the man had never been sexual, albeit I was receptive enough of his advances. Had I been thinking then, I would have known better- would have remembered that one could have easily frozen to death in those sands at night. But the pure intrigue had held my attention, that Vicious could be anything more or less than a deadly god.

The song draws to a close, letting the last notes reverberate through the small bar. I'm reluctant to pull back and recall where I am. In a week or so, he'll be here. I'll see him again, to a settle a deal and bring this all to a close.

Not so long ago I had sat in my apartment, contemplating the inevitable while sending the transmission. All that's left is to wait till he's sent to this frigid place. I'll meet him face to face, stare into those cold eyes, and play his fated lullaby.

I step from the stage, walking towards the counter for a break. The bartender smiles and starts pouring out some warm drink.

"New song, Gren? Don't think I've ever heard that one before." He comments, placing the glass in front of me.

I give him one of those tilted smiles and whisper, "Just some old thing I'd heard once. But it's really just an opening act."

fin-empieza