Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Hymn for Cowboys Led Astray ❯ Washed Away ( Chapter 10 )

Well guys (and girls, no offense intended), this is the end of the end. I hope you enjoyed reading, and please don't roast me over a pit of flames for not getting this out by the end of March like I had promised. (HAHAHA, me promise something and follow though?) Thanks again for reading, and if you enjoyed it, please let me know.

 

 

Chapter 10: Washed Away

 

Even now, I can still feel the punch that bullet packed. My chest aches with the memory, and I rub it with a wince. Outside my cockpit, the stars twinkle over Mars. Maybe the Universe is really winking at me, in that 'Yeah, right, you're not getting out of this one' kinda way. All I know is that remembering my past life and literally hovering over the place where it all happened...it kinda fucks with a guy's mind.

I rub a hand over my face. God, I'm so tired. Faye threatening to shoot me back there and then firing into the bulkhead as I jumped ship for probably the last time...I hadn't thought I could ever feel that tired, but the act of remembering makes me want to take a quick nap. Who am I kidding, though? If Lady Luck or whoever - whatever - balances out all this cosmic shit decides to humor poor old Spike Spiegel this one last time, I'll have plenty of time to sleep before too long. Hell, I'm not even above accepting cosmic pity at this point.

My fingers unconscious reach for the pack of cigarettes I keep in the breast pocket of this ratty old jacket, but only hit air. I want a good smoke right now. The stars outside my cockpit blink out as I close my eyes and try to imagine the feel of a good drag burning through my lungs.

 

There's one final drag left of my cigarette before it's done and I drop it into a puddle. The roses I'm carrying are starting to drop petals and look sorta droopy. At this point, it's part of the ensemble. My clothes were dripping as I hauled myself out of the harbor, gasping and aching from the point of impact on my chest all the way down my right arm. Swimming had been sort of a half-assed dog paddle as far as I could manage out of view from my former comrades.

Of course, Julia wouldn't be able to notice, not with the way the afternoon drizzle had turned into a steady downpour. And me without an umbrella. I stifle a snort, and pat my breast pocket again to feel the thin plastic covering our tickets off this hell of a planet. They could get soggy all they wanted now, since the transport left over two hours ago. Could be more, could be less. My watch hadn't made it past my dip in the frigid harbor, but my gut told me it was too late.

I stood in that depressing cemetery, imaging Syndicate eyes all around and feeling exposed among all the ancient tombstones. My only protection was the Jericho Julia had given me making a comfortable weight against my side. It was probably the only dry thing within a ten klick radius. Finally a crow cawed loudly, making me jump.

The fricking bird sat in a branch practically over my head, and I couldn't help but gawk at the sheer size of it. Almost like Vicious' creepy pet, but without the red eyed intelligence. It cocked its head at me, and I gave it the finger before jumping a tombstone and heading towards the spaceport to thumb my way off world.

 

Crows were the bringers of bad news, according to old Earth legend. At least that's what I remember from the babblings of high school literature classes. Either way, that dumb bird helped me make up my mind that soggy freezing day. I found out that some poet said they could say "Nevermore" or some dead chick's name, or something. Doesn't matter now.

My hands are freezing. Either I'm getting too far into this recollection, or it's just fucking cold in here. Not like that's saying much, since space isn't really too friendly to us warm blooded types, but the Swordfish's engine is generating a little heat. I crank up the temp, and the ship around me rumbles dangerously. I turn it back down with a sigh. Dead men don't really need to be warm anyway.

Time to get this over with. One of those last battles did some serious damage to my baby that Jet couldn't fix, and she's feeling it. Once we're back down on that planet this old ship can take a rest, too.

 

Somebody wish me luck, if you're listening. I want this to all be over. I want to be back in Julia's arms and for it to be right this time. I want to end it with Vicious - the end of the blows we've dealt each other and all the shit that went wrong with one of the only people I ever considered a friend. I want the Bebop to either make a little shrine out of my room, or forget me and get on with their lives.

We've all got places to go. No sense in getting worked up about it. My place is a glittering planet currently taking up all the space in my viewport. It's so bright that it even manages to blot out the stars. Since my eyes are adjusted to the dimness of my cockpit, the light makes me wince. But it's not a bad light, really. I want to turn my face away and deny the inevitable, but this light isn't harsh or blinding, and it might be the last one I get to see. Who knows?