Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Hymn for Cowboys Led Astray ❯ To Where You Are ( Chapter 7 )
Disclaimer: Cowboy Bebop and all its characters are under the copyright of Bandai and Sunrise, Inc. No infringement intended.
Author's note: Sheesh! Sorry people. I didn't realize it had been almost two whole months between updates. *Ducks a rotten tomato* Er, heh. I just wanted to say, don't give up hope on me! And to avoid any other copyrights, this chapter's title is one of the tracks off of Josh Groban's debut CD. There's lots of free time, now that I have a month off from classes and work, and hopefully, I'll start updating this story on a regular basis again. *Crosses fingers* Anyway, here's the next installment. Enjoy, and please review. Please?
Chapter 7: To Where You Are
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP. Daylight streamed in through a crack in the heavy shade, particles of dust drifting lazily in and out of the golden beam. I opened my eyes, hit the snooze button on the damn alarm clock, and then rolled over. I don't care what time it's supposed to be. I thought, and pulled the blanket tighter around my shoulders.
What seemed like only seconds later, the alarm was sounding in its particularly annoying way again, and I shut it off. The urge to throw it through the window was strong, but I rolled out of my comfortable bed, and headed for the bathroom.
Before I shut the door, I glanced at the clock. The red display read 9:30. Good. There was enough time for a quick shower and a cup of coffee before I had to be at headquarters. I grabbed a towel off the rack, and wriggled out of my sweatpants. The hot water rolled steadily down my back and I leaned back into the gentle massage. Over the sound of the falling water, a gentle ringing sounded. I cursed loudly. The phone!
I reached over to shut off the water, but my depth perception wasn't what it used to be. My right hand grabbed for the handle, and missed. Muttering generalized threats, I grabbed for it again. The ringing sound on the damn telephone only grew louder as I fumbled for the handle. Like a kick, a wave of nausea suddenly attacked my insides. I doubled over, both the shower and the phone forgotten.
A wave of white static replaced the now-familiar darkness in my cybernetic eye, and I felt reality going fuzzy. The phone ringing took on a dream-like quality, and the white static began to pulse in my brain. I wasn't aware that I had been screaming until the shower ran cold and I snapped out of my trance.
I was curled up in a fetal position on the floor of the shower, throat hoarse. My body was shaking from the cold water, which had been running for God-only-knows how long. My right shoulder had begun to bleed through the stitches, and it ached heavily as I pushed myself to a sitting position. The water was freezing, but I managed to reach the handle and pull it to the OFF position with no problems.
After drying off, I ran a comb through the tangle of mop-like green hair, and tucked the towel around my waist. I reached for the razor in its stand at my right, and pulled back from it. My reflection in the mirror looked no different than usual, aside from the oozing stitches in my shoulder. I rubbed away the remaining steam, and blinked. My image blinked back. And then, it hit me.
My eye! That blast of light which had landed me in a ball on the ground to begin with. A nurse had removed the bandages shortly before my release from the hospital. My eye had remained shut, covered in yellowish purple bruises. Only now, it was open without my conscious thought, and it was working. Actually, transmitting would probably be a better word for it. I gingerly explored the flesh around it, and sucked in a breath. It was a lot sorer than it looked.
I left the bathroom and went to pull on some clothes. As I passed through the living room, I noticed the answering machine blinking. The memory of the far-off phone ringing sidetracked me, and I headed over to see who had been so desperate to get a hold of me so early in the morning. I pressed the PLAY button, and waited.
There was a long pause, and then a quiet shaky breath. Julia's low musical voice played over the tiny speaker, and I smiled in spite of the crappy morning so far. "Spike, its Julia. I…I wanted to talk to you. I know it's early, but could you come over as soon as you get this?" She hesitated, and I could almost imagine her crystalline eyes shifting back and forth warily. "It's about Vicious." My eyes narrowed as she hung up with a loud click.
Vicious? My mind echoed the name, and I hastily retreated to the bedroom to get dressed. Whatever it was, Julia needed me, and I intended on being there. A few minutes later, I was out the door, still buttoning my shirt. One flight of stairs and out the door, and I was on the street, walking briskly in the direction of Julia's apartment. In the city skyline, the Red Dragon headquarters loomed over all other buildings.
It reminded me of the summons to appear before the three old stooges that were the so-called heads of the organization. In actuality, Mao ran things; the three old men were more like England's monarch on Earth-a figurehead. I glanced at my watch. The meeting was supposed to start in another ten minutes. Without hesitation, I made my way for Julia's apartment. The Syndicate could wait. It had existed for almost a century, and I wouldn't be the one to bring its downfall by skipping a meeting.
Besides, Julia needed me more.
ONE EYE SEES THE PRESENT…WHAT DO YOU SEE?