Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ In a Sentimental Mood ❯ Chapter 11

“…debris and dust from the meteorite is safely being contained in the zone thanks to the ion shield invented by the elusive Dr. Leonard Spiers…”

 

Spike didn't stand around to watch the rest of the newscast on the billboard-size television screen. He kept walking until reaching the automatic sliding doors he was looking for. Slipping through the crowd inside, he made his way to the back door.

 

“What are you doing here?” Faye asked, obviously surprised to see Spike at the racetracks.

 

“Checking to make sure you placed my bet,” he answered, dropping himself in the empty seat beside her. A bell sounded and the race began. Multicolored jockeys vied for position on their mounts while the onlookers cheered their bets.

 

“You didn't leave me any money to place,” she said, ripping up her ticket as her horse lagged behind. “Not to mention Mars Sky was a 100 to 1 shot.”

 

“Did you place the bet?” Spike asked again.

 

Faye propped her chin on the railing and sighed. “1000 woolongs to show.”

 

“And?”

 

“She showed. I don't know how you knew, but she did.” She turned to give him an intent stare. “How did you know? Especially with such great odds?”

 

Spike merely smiled slyly and held out his hand. “My money.”

 

She rolled her eyes and withdrew a stack of bills from inside her top. “Minus my booking fee, of course.”

 

He took the money and stuck it safely inside his jacket pocket. “Of course.” He stood and leaned against the railing. “I'm done here. We can leave first thing in the morning. Don't be late.”

 

“You sure Jet wants you back? He seemed pretty steamed to me. Chopped off the wrong branch on his bonsai and tossed it overboard.”

 

Spike pushed himself away from the railing and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. “I guess we'll see soon enough.” He turned to leave but paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Black Earth to win in the next race. See ya.”

 

Faye opened her mouth to ask why that particular horse, but Spike had already melted back into the crowd heading to place their next bets. Pulling a roll of money from her top, she hurried to join them.

 

The Bebop was quiet. Too quiet. There were no landing beacons and the internal lights were dimmed even though it was still early. Spike landed the Swordfish without Jet's usual clearance and made his way to the living area wondering where everyone else might be.

 

“Spike person is back!” Edward bounded from the shadows and attached herself to Spike's back, her long arms and legs wrapped securely around his neck and waist. Ein excitedly ran around and around Spike's legs. “Did you bring Edward a gift from Earth?”

 

“Sorry, Ed. I didn't get you anything,” Spike said, loosening the grip around his neck so he could breathe better.

 

Edward scrambled onto his shoulders and leaned forward, hands searching his pockets. “Gift for Ed? Gift for Ed?”

 

“Edward! I said I didn't…”

 

“Gift for Ed!” she shouted triumphantly, holding up Galen's rumbled pack of cigarettes. Ein jumped against Spike's legs and barked.

 

“No! Hey, those aren't yours!” But Edward was already dancing off into the shadows with the pack as her partner and Ein close on her heels. “Since when did you start smoking?” he called after them.

 

“And so the prodigal son returns?” Jet asked from the kitchen doorway. He crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his face carefully blank.

 

“If I remember the story right, there was a fatted calf waiting for him,” Spike said. His stomach growled at the thought of food and Spike inwardly cursed himself for not stopping for food before coming back. He gave Jet a sheepish grin. “Got anything to eat?”

 

“As a matter of fact, we're fully stocked. Hope you found your mark because we can't repay what all I used of that cashcard. And I doubt I'd enjoy being indebted to them, either.”

 

“I found him,” Spike said, heading for the refrigerator. He was happy to find Jet didn't skimp on the brand of beer. He tossed one to Jet and opened his own, taking a long drink before continuing. “Found him and saw him die. They won't need the money back.”

 

Jet took down a frying pan and lit the stove's burner. “I'd sure love to hear the story some day,” he said, leaving an opening for Spike without asking direct questions. He popped the top on his own can and took a drink.

 

“Maybe I'll tell it. Some day.” Spike drained the can and grabbed another.

 

Edward came running in, her computer balanced precariously on her head. “Edward loves Spike's gift!” she said, giving him a tight hug around his waist. Spike juggled the beer can but it slipped just out of his reach and landed on the floor. The spray issuing from a small hole in the can was quickly lapped up by Ein.

 

“I'm glad you like the cigarettes, Ed. But you can let go of me now.”

 

“Not the smoky sticks,” Edward corrected. She unwound her arms and held the computer screen up for Spike and Jet to see. “The computer chip in the bottom.”

 

“What the…” Jet began as data and schematics on laser cannons flitted across the monitor.

 

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“Not my fault, Vicious,” Spike said into the computer's video camera. The face on the screen was red with anger. “I found him like I was hired to do. If you want to go hunting for his remains, be my guest. They've got to be somewhere at the bottom of that crater.”

 

“How do I know you didn't just let him go?” Vicious asked from between clenched teeth.

 

Spike loved seeing his nemesis unnerved. It happened so seldom while they were in the Syndicate together, Spike always made a special effort to make it last.

 

“I'll admit the thought crossed my mind.” More than crossed, Spike thought, but left it at that. Vicious didn't need to know everything. “But even I can't compete against the forces of nature.”

 

“What about his invention?”

 

“What invention would that be, Vicious?” Spike asked innocently. “The information you gave me didn't say anything about any invention. Was that something I should have been told about?”

 

Vicious glowered from the monitor, but Spike only smiled back. He knew Vicious would never willingly give out classified information about his father's laser research or his mother's arranged demise. Both of which Spike was certain Vicious knew about even when they were comrades. He wasn't about to give the Syndicate any more than a routine report on a bounty's death. He wouldn't even let Vicious see how his father's passing affected him. To all witnesses, Galen Spiegel was just another bountyhead.

 

“I did your dirty work,” Spike said. “Now it's your turn to hold up your end of the deal. Goodbye, Vicious.” Without waiting for a reply, Spike pressed the button to end transmission. The furious look that disappeared from the screen made Spike laugh out loud.

 

“That guy gives me the creeps,” Faye said, entering the room. She sat on the edge of the couch and lit a cigarette. “How can you find him funny?”

 

Spike just shook his head and got to his feet, stretching his arms high over his head. “I'm going out. Tell Jet to meet me at a bar called Losers. He'll know the one. And be sure to let him know I'm in a storytelling mood.”

 

Faye followed him down the hallway. “Where are you going? Can I come, too? The tracks are closed and I'm bored to tears.”

 

“I've got something to do alone first,” Spike said, lighting a cigarette of his own. “But you can come later and listen in if you feel like it. There's no happy ending, but it's a hell of a tale.”

 

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Spike hadn't been to his mother's grave since officially joining the Syndicate. It felt wrong to face her when he knew there was blood on his hands. He always felt ashamed that he hadn't lived up to all she'd hoped for.

 

He counted the flowers one last time before entering the cemetery. One white lily for every year since his father left. He'd considered buying another bunch of roses as an apology from himself, but didn't want to intrude on his father's dying request. He'd wait and bring his own flowers the next time he visited…which he promised would be much sooner than his last.

 

Shifting the bundle to his other arm, he surveyed the tombstones, trying to remember exactly where his mother was buried. He knew it was near one of those large, crying angel statues, so he headed for the first one he saw.

 

A glimpse of white caught his attention. As he neared, he realized it was a flower, barely visible at the corner of the large stone. He walked around to the front and stopped dead in his tracks. Etched deep into the granite was the name Lillian Ann Marie Wickstrom Spiegel. And below it was a single white lily.