Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Evil Angel ❯ the lady and the tiger ( Chapter 1 )

Evil Angel 2/?

By Nix

Warnings… I'm a pro-survival person myself. So this is set after the twenty-sixth ep.. if you don't want to be at all spoiled for the end of the series.. I suggest not reading this. And Julia is.. well, not an angel in this story, at least not the good kind.. she's more complicated here. There may well end up being some yaoi, and maybe even a Jet/Spike/Faye trio pairing. *thinks* I think that's all I need to warn about. Samples of my original stuff is at: www.onepinkrose.com

Evil Angel 2/?

It wasn't the beer that Spike had had in the bottom of the fridge that one time, but it was almost just as good. Jet closed his eyes and took another drink. It tasted weak, some golden beer, not the dark that he would have picked for himself, but this golden tea shade of beer that Spike liked. Spike. Half a case of weak beer gone and Jet couldn't admit to himself that the towel wearing martial artist wasn't coming back. It only made sense though, that he'd come back.

Jet couldn't count how many times he'd patched the man up, his partner. Once he'd slept next to him, right after he'd found Spike below the broken church window. He'd lifted him then, from the bloody pavement, and even unconscious, even limp in places that bones usually prevented that, there had been a life force in the man, a will to live that kept breath moving in and out, tickling at Jet's throat as he carried him.

Now, Jet thought, starting on another beer, that maybe part of that will to live had been this woman, this Julia and that brought a feeling that Jet knew, but refused to name. Acid in his stomach, crushing beer can, and Jet wondered again just who he was, what kind of man he was to feel jealousy over a woman who was already dead. Spike said she was dead. And more than jealousy, like a river of grief, Jet realized that might cost Spike his life too. Spike's death would leave a hole, he realized now, now when it was too late to make a fool of himself like Faye had, too late to threaten to shoot the reckless man. There wasn't even anyone he could promise to kill, to take vengeance on, because he had no doubt that Spike would have already killed all the right ones.

"Jet." Faye's voice entered the river of his grief softly, more like the little girl on the video tape than the jaded gambler woman. "Jet."

"What do you want," he demanded, resenting the call back from the emotional numbness he was seeking, and compensated by offering her one of his beers. "Shut up and get drunk with me."

"Should we send Ed an email? She cared about him too, you know." The beer left Jet's hand and he was happy to hear it opening.

"He's coming back," he said, swallowing half a can, just swallowing mouthful after mouthful, thinking he didn't have to listen, respond while his mouth was full. Spike was coming back. He'd ask for something to eat, and Jet would get up and make his favorite, he'd watch him eat again, just turn back the clock and watch food disappear into that lean body. He'd tell him, tell him that Jet would be his woman, would give him anything, just don't go, stay. "I just wanted him to stay. If he comes back, if he comes back I'll do anything he wants."

Soft fingers touched his cheek, and only then did he realize that he was crying. They weren't the innocent fingers of the last woman who'd touched him, the childlike fingers of the woman who'd left him. They were the fingers of a woman who was swimming in the same river of grief, who made her own choices and didn't back away from asking for what she wanted. "Jet, let's go find him. Let's go help."

"It isn't that easy," Jet said before throwing the beer can across the living area. "This isn't some package I can pay postage for or some cop I can pay compensation to because Spike broke some bones by. The Red Dragon Syndicate runs Mars, has the cops here in their pockets and Spike has gone to kill Vicious."

"Vicious deserves it."

"What difference does that make? That woman Spike loved is dead." Jet decided he needed something stronger than beer now. He'd never really thought of himself a gay, not that there was anything wrong with it, but to be wanting a guy who was his friend and only to figure it out after the friend was probably dead, that was just stupid. He'd just never thought beyond being in love with Her, his Ganymede woman. "Faye, what if I'm jealous of her, of Spike's woman? What if I'm jealous of this woman that Spike thought about all the time? What if I'm thinking about taking Spike to bed, running my good hand over that lean body of his? Laying my hand on his chest while he's sleeping, just to be sure that he's breathing? What if I want to give him a reason to be alive, but I want that reason to be me? What do you say to that?" Jet didn't have the nerve to look at this girl, Faye. For some reason he was seeing her as she was on that tape, all cheerful and innocent, and he felt old and dirty, as he scrounged in a cabinet for his hidden brandy.

"What if? Spike's beautiful and he's kind, not that he wants a person to think he is. He's got a great voice. You ever listen to him, just close your eyes and listen to him? I'm jealous of her too, Jet. Hell, sometimes I'm jealous of you because Spike treats you as a friend. She was very beautiful though, beautiful and sleek, just the kind of woman I'd see with Spike. I wonder why they weren't together all this time. Jet, what if I'm in love with Spike? What if," she paused, and they looked into each other's eyes, as if seeing each other for the first time, really seeing each other as people, people with things in common, "What if I've got real bad luck and I lost my heart to him and I ain't never going to love anyone else again?"

"Well, here," Jet took a big swig of his brandy, then held the bottle out to her. "Get drunk with me then. Cuz I guess we're both in love with a dead guy."

"He can't really be dead, Jet. He fell out of that window. He's been shot before. Jet, Spike can't be dead."

The vid-phone/computer started ringing then, and they both looked at it, and pounced, Jet nearly falling as he went over the couch. Faye smacked the enter key, accepting the call and Spike's name was on her lips, but it was Ed, an Ed that looked only just a little older, as if she'd had some bad shock, eyes red, hair limp. "Faye-Faye! Ed had a bad call! Someone sent Ed bad photos! Where is Spike-person!?"

Only then did Faye take a solid drink of the brandy, leaving Jet to respond. He raked a hand through his hair, trying to straighten up a little, and thanking all the gods that he hadn't tried on any lipstick. "Spike's not here right now, Ed. What kind of photo did you get?"

The photo turned out to be a video clip. Vicious' katana sliced through Spike's middle, disemboweling through suit and skin. Spike stepped back, turned, fell. Faye screamed, dropped the brandy. Jet cursed her, and grabbed the spilling bottle back up from the floor. Ed came back on the screen. "Bad photo! Where is Spike person!?"

Faye sniffed, "We don't know right now, Ed. He went to fight Vicious. Where did you get that video clip?"

"Ein says we need to come help you," Ed said, looking every bit like a nearly hysterical fourteen year old. "You should look in your email. I had to hack the bebop to turn it on to make you hear this. Is the ship broken? Why was it sleeping? I think you got the same email. It said we were supposed to come and pick up Spike-person's body. Why does he need an extra body, and why can't he bring it home himself?"

The obvious was sometimes too painful to look directly at. Jet slumped back on the couch and started in on the rest of the brandy. Faye sniffed again, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. "Let me look at that email now, but Ed, you should stay on Earth. It's not so safe here right now."

"Ed is not on Earth," the girl said, reaching down to touch something. Ein barked off screen. "Ed and Ein are on Mars. Someone named Julia told us two weeks ago that Spike Person would need our help. Spike needs Bebop."

"Oh Ed." Faye said, reaching to touch the screen. "Why didn't you tell us you were on Mars?"

"Bebop didn't answer Ed! Ed tried to call Bebop."

"Ed, come home," Jet called, words slurring finally. "Come home."

<><><><><>zzZZzz<><>&l t;><><>

In an undamaged Red Dragon building, Julia stood near a damage proof window, watching the twinkling night that was Mars City, a light that eclipsed the stars themselves from where she stood. There are many errors that one can make when seizing power. One is to misjudge who the power seekers are, to underestimate a ruthless opponent. Another is to learn to love one's tools.

She had watched Spike fall, and she discovered within herself that her lie had become truth. Ambition met it's only true rival, love. The feeling stormed her by surprise. She'd watched Vicious fall first. Watched with a sense of justice and rightness. He'd been her lover first, before Spike. Violent, demanding, passionate, she'd dreamed of watching him fall even when she was laying in his bed.

When Spike fell, and she knew that the poison on Vicious' katana would be killing him, she knew it was balanced, fate, was a beautiful death, but as she watched Spike fall, she remembered being in his bed as well, remembered how his powerful hands had been gentle, how his kisses had been awkward and genuine, tender and childlike in some ways. His death was beautiful, artistic, the masterstroke of her plan, that the rivals should kill each other, end of story. Human hearts are never quite so artistic. Spike, who had known he'd lose his life, had chosen this path, she told herself as she watched him fall, his body limp against the stairs and she wanted, in that moment, she wanted his life back for him, wanted it more than she wanted to rule Mars, more than the new order that she'd been breed for.

Spike Spiegel, from the ghettos of Mars City to the heights of the Red Dragon Syndicate, and she thought, as she stood there trying to savor her victory, that he was an angel that never really fell. A knight betrayed by his lady, and she wished to change his story, even though she herself was the one who'd put the poison on the edge of Vicious' katana, or ordered it put there. There was little point in holding power, if one could not change one's mind.

The door to her private apartment chimed and she touched the sensor on her bracelet which would open the door. "Mistress," the Chinese doctor bowed, red tipped black hair brushing her cheeks. "The patient's body has accepted the antidote, but he is too weak to begin the reconstruction of the small intestine. Is it your wish that we attempt conventional reconstruction, inform you of his passing, or attempt nanite reconstruction?"

"Probability of full recovery with conventional vs nanite?" Now her voice was regal, imperious, untouched by the fragility of human life.

"Low probability with conventional reconstruction. The damage done by the poison was difficult to halt and would likely suggest the need for a colostomy. With nanite, probability is 95%, however the process should be expected to take nearly eight weeks and the patient should probably be sedated during the process due to the nature of nerves in the tissue that will be regrown in that area of the body."

"He has a high pain tolerance," she said, not so regal, more like the woman Spike thought he'd known. "Use whatever technology will encourage a positive outcome. Do not consider cost."

"Is that wise, Mistress?"

"After you complete this surgery, you will send me a finger of yours, your choice which, as an offering of your obedience to me."

The doctor bowed, very low, "Yes, Mistress."

Julia did not breathe until the door sealed again. Realizing how she felt about Spike was leading her to the most difficult and painful thing she would probably ever do. He would live, but she would have to give him to others to love. The lady or the tiger, an old story from school, now, now she knew which door she'd choose for her love. She touched her bracelet again, this time to open a com-channel. "When the Bebop arrives, take them to the operating theater."

"Yes, Mistress," a male voice responded. "All the parts for the requested repairs are here. Did you decide about the Swordfish II? What do you wish me to do with it?"

"Repair it," she said, then paused to make sure that her voice wouldn't break, "Put it on the Bebop, but restore it completely, rearm it, do any upgrades that you can. Make it the best ship that you can."

"Yes, Mistress."

The lady or the tiger; it wasn't really that hard of a choice.