Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Hymn for Cowboys Led Astray ❯ The Clock Strikes One ( Chapter 8 )

Wow. Um, hi? You may remember me as that slacker author who used to post stories once in a while. Yeah, that one. I am so sorry for leaving this one basically as a cliffhanger for...holy crap, has it really been that many years? Well, time goes quickly when you're...uh, okay, I have absolutely not excuse for this long of a lull between updates. Please accept my apologies, all. Don't kill me! I swear I'll be good. I'll get someone to chain me to my computer (not like that's much of a problem) until I update. I WILL get this story done by the end of the month, I swear it on the grave of somebody famous.

Chapter 8: The Clock Strikes One

I look back on those last days of my old life less and less now. Even after all the time that's passed, it still hurts to see that we were all on a fast track to Hell with the windows down and the music blaring. God, we were idiots. I can say that now with a smile - not because I've come to terms with my past, but because I have made a grudging peace with it.

By the time I arrived at Julia's apartment building that morning, I didn't even bother knocking; it was pointless. She knew I was coming because the door was unlocked. That simple gesture said everything. Her place was not in the best part of town, and anyone could have come in. I had just opened my mouth to say so when her voice cut me off. "Hello Spike."

The profile of an angel. I could just see the tip of her nose from where she sat , hands folded on her lap as she stared out the window at the pouring rain. The lovesick fool I was stood on her carpet, water dripping from my clothes and darkening the carpet until it looked like blood had pooled around me. I hadn't even realized it was raining.

She didn't even turn to look at me, or scold about ruining her carpet like all other women did. Not that it mattered anyway. The apartment was Vicious' doing, so she could be closer to headquarters whenever he felt like stopping by to take whatever he wanted from her. I never learned this particular fact until much later. Not that it matters much anyway. Julia was too much like us - dead just enough on the inside that things like soggy carpet or abusive boyfriends don't really affect us like they should.

I wanted as she just sat and stared out the window, motionless. The questions I had constructed on the way over had all disappeared, leaving only the ticking of the clock in the kitchen to fill the silence. One question finally worked its way up, relentlessly tickling the back of my throat until I croaked it out. "How was the ball last night?"

The only sign she had heard me was a slight tipping of the head forward until molten blond hair covered even the pale tip of her nose. "Julia?" I took a step towards her, and then another until I was close enough to catch her as she fell off the chair and landed in my arms. My bad shoulder was still too weak to support even her slight weight, so I hid a wince as best I could and settled to the floor as she crawled into my lap, shaking. "It's all wrong, Spike." Her voice was muffled in my neck, and I suppressed a shudder as her warm breath lapped over my skin. Even now I wanted her, as I had that first night so many months ago when we first met.

"What's wrong?" I mumbled. Dealing with women's emotions always made me feel awkward. I rubbed a hand over her back in what I hoped was a comforting gesture, pausing as my fingers brushed over a spot under her ribs as she hissed involuntarily. "Don't." She pulled back, and I sucked in a breath as I caught a glimpse of her face.

"Julia-" Faint bruises were visible under her makeup. I reached a hand up to trace the marks on her skin, but she turned away, again hidden by her hair. Realization settled over me, along with a deep anger that only grew as I tried to understand. "He did this to you?" She gave a bitter little sob, and wiggled out of my grip and my lap. I tried to touch her shoulder to offer some kind of comfort, but she pulled away. Another feeling - shame - flared into life then. I had known about the Syndicate ball, but there had been a follow-up to the Scarred Hand incident that the Elders had assigned me to take care of, and by the time I had stumbled into bed the night before, the party had been in full swing, so I had decided to skip it entirely.

This was my fault, for not being there to protect her. I told her as much, and she shook her head, finally meeting my gaze. "It wasn't you, Spike." She swallowed, and looked down at her hands before returning her gaze to the wall. "I went out a couple nights ago for some drinks and darts with Lin and Shin. Apparently Vicious had assigned someone to watch me. I think he decided that my actions were not...appropriate." Her voice cracked on the last word, and I watched as she bit her lip. "Vicious, he -Spike, he doesn't trust you anymore." I held back a snort as the mental image of his smirk in the White Tiger hall crossed my mind.

She turned. Even with the bruises on her face, she was beautiful. I would have willingly taken on the entire Syndicate, given up my privileged life and everything I ever had if she had only asked me. The bruises and a shallow cut near her eye were my doing because I hadn't been there to protect her. The thought hurt then, and it still hurts now, even after she's lying dead on a rooftop near old Annie's store.

"I love you." I said. It wasn't something I had intended to say, but it was too late and I couldn't take it back. Didn't matter though, because it was true, planned or not. I moved to run my fingers through the long silky strands of her hair, and then she was kissing me with all the life and passion that Vicious had attempted to take from her. If he could only see just how badly he had failed...well, let's just say the Gate Incident would have paled in comparison. That thought made me smile, and it was the last thought not involving Julia for a long time.

If Vicious hadn't trusted me around Julia before, he had ever right after that day. I missed the meeting, needless to say. It wasn't the first one or the last. My increasing absences did not go unnoticed, however in those brief few weeks I could have cared less. What we first did that day is not something I really need to go into, but it is one of the few memories I've deliberately held onto all these years in comparison to all the things I've managed to forget. The anger and the growing hatred for the creature who had once been my best friend flared brightly that day, and only Julia stopped me from going after him then.

I had so little time with her. On the day I die, if God Almighty asks me if I have any last words, I will have no problem telling Him that he's got a pretty bad sense of humor. That rainy morning I pulled the pin on my old life, setting in motion plans of vengeance and violence and my own downfall. What a way to start the week.

TICK TOCK, TICK TOCK...