Hello, after a lot of thought, I really wanna change how I wrote this story. I wanna update it, my writing has changed considerably since I began writing it, and I want the first chapter especially to reflect my skill, or lack thereof, depending on whether you are a fan of my work or not.
So, here is the revamped chapter. I started writing this almost six years ago, when I was twelve/thirteen. Now, at eighteen. I want to treat you guys. I do not own Sailor Moon or Cowboy Bebop; I am not making any money whatsoever on this fan fiction. It is done solely for my entertainment and the entertainment of others.
I AM GOING CHAPTER BY CHAPTER EDITING – [MARCH 2, 2008
Please review.
Soft Blonde
v.2.0
Kikenbutsu
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He could feel everything so slowly; each passing second seemed like two, or three. Time slowed down when it was your last few moments, as if giving you a bittersweet farewell to all your days spent; all your days wasted. Clinging to life desperately, those last few moments filled chests full of feeble hope; the feeling of helplessness was at its climax here.
Spike's heartbeat rang within his ears clouding his thoughts. He'd never heard it so clearly till now but in a way he was thankful for it. It let him know he was still alive, that he was blessed enough, in this drawn out moment to even have a heartbeat.
The glass cut through the fabric of his blazer; it was a pathetic barrier against the massive stain-glass window that shattered into pieces around him. His skin was on fire; and he could only faintly hear a scream that only after another second he realized was coming from him. His body twisted amongst the falling debris that was not lodged within his back and arms and legs. Was this it? The end?
Julia.
She still haunted him, that phantom-like memory. Till death. Five minutes before now; he would have wished beyond anything to see her; to have her next to him forever. Now, Spike Spiegal only had one dying wish. Closing his eyes tightly, half in pain, but half in clouded thought he tried to get a message out to her. As crazy as it sounded; as new age or even as stupid, he closed his eyes and wished.
Run.
The impact came like a rush, he knew it was coming but in some way it was unexpected. He could feel his bones crack beneath the weight of his own body, his nerves drank the impact wholly; neither shot nor unconsciousness could dim the pain. When it came, he felt it. He wanted to move, he wanted the pleasure of twisting in a way to ease his pain which engulfed him but his limbs responded not. Was this death? He could no longer hear that heartbeat that filled him with hope so; he could no longer see ..
Someone was leaving over him, his eyes somehow readjusted themselves and he could see the outline of a figure and soon colors, and details and lastly, sound his own heartbeat. He was alive.
"You'll be alright! Hang on!" Julia. She hadn't gotten his message, she hadn't stayed away. He couldn't protect her! Vicious was here! His jaw felt slack against his face, the wind blew and it chilled him; the blood that poured from his wounds drying in the breeze.
"Run." Was his whisper.
The pair of blue eyes stared back at him, completely perplexed at his respond, he felt something warm against his cheek, but it did not cool in the passing zephyr; it was constant. Her hand brushed the glass that littered his face. "I would never leave you."
And with that, Spike Spiegal closed his eyes into an involuntary slumber.
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It was the singing that awakened Spike, the dull hum within his mind; the sound of a woman's voice that bounced about his mind. Groggily, the man of twenty-seven opened his eyes, first was the light of the room that rushed to him, almost blinding him into a extreme squint; then, more painful than the first was the pain. It hit him like a ton of bricks; shocking him almost to tears. He was swollen, his skin stretched tautly within itself so he made no attempt to move. Instead, once the pain had subsided as much as it would, his eyes, still not adjusted to the light searched the room. Looking for Julia, who sang for him, who saved him, who was –
"Faye?" It was barely audible yet her name felt like lead against his lips, neither uplifting of pleasant; actually, it pissed him off.
The woman looked over to him, shiny raven locks twisting about her delicate face as she took in the man who had been out for the past few days, she put down the magazine she had been skimming through turning to him now. "Hey, you're awake. You've been asleep quite a while. I've been worried about you."
He struggled to raise his arm but managed a few shallow degrees of incline, before using his finger to signal to her that he wanted her to approach him with a gentle lurching of the appendage. Tilting her head to the side in confusion but catering to her sick crewmate she knelt down in front of him, eager to hear his request.
"You sing off key."
It was only a moment later that Jet heard the yelp from the kitchen, coming into inspect Faye stomped out past him, roughly pushing past Jet and another girl that followed closely behind the captain of the Bebop. Jet and the woman could hardly hold back their giggles as they looked into the room. Pillow feathers drifted from the sky, Spike had been assaulted, but knowing Spike it was probably something that he had said.
The broken pillow lay against his bandaged chest; the body cast he wore offered not protection against the pillow that had come crashing down against his sensitive nerves. Looking over to the people who stood at the doorway; he watched her laugh a new feeling overcoming him now.
Julia.
Jet, followed closely behind 'Julia' walked closely over to his spot on the couch. "Spike, this is Usagi. She is the one who kept you alive until Faye and I showed up. Next time maybe you'll think about running off before you do. I'm not gonna be your nurse next time, Spike." Jet scolded. Spike's face visibly fell, from this distance it was easy to tell this girl was not Julia.
She was younger for one, looking just about eighteen, and dressed that way to boot. Her hair was fashioned into the oddest hairstyle, a crop that Julia; being a woman would never entertain. Her clothes were no better. A pink overall jumpsuit almost screamed jailbait; but she held herself with a certain air that assured him that she was over the age to buy cigarettes. But maybe just that.
"Pleased to meet you Mr. Spiegal." Her voice was soft when she spoke and he greeting was accompanied with a small bow, she was trying to be gentle around him, he could tell. She radiated the same purity that Julia did, but in a sort of schoolgirl way as opposed to being a real woman.
"Yeah." It was his only reply.
"Faye really let you have it." Jet examined, he had been holding a skillet in his hand, "His wounds might've opened up again Usagi, maybe you could take off some of bandaging and give it a look?" Usagi blushed deeply. Spike almost rolled his eyes. Definitely a schoolgirl.
"Oh, yes, Mr. Jet."
"C'mon Usagi, you been here almost a week, Jet is fine." Spike looked between the two. He'd never seen Jet act so … cordial. It was strange to see him smile at her; and wait; what was that smell?
Oh my God, is that cologne? Is Jet wearing cologne?
"Okay Jet." Usagi took a first aid kit from the nearby table and Jet went through the door he came from, going back to the kitchen where he was working on dinner.
She knelt by him, the thick awkward silence hanging over the two like a blanket. The entire room was filled with the gentle shuffling of the sterile bandages and the cap-opening of tubes of ointment as Usagi prepped the supplies. He watched her carefully but yet said nothing; she averted his gaze as she continued to fiddle with the contents of the kit.
"Vicious." He had forgotten. He hadn't killed him, his only regret.
"Oh! You know Mr. Vicious too?"
He almost hurt himself by the way he looked at her, if the nerves in his eyes weren't swollen before they were now, for he looked at her with so much accusation and curiosity he must've pulled something. He tried to scramble into a sitting position, momentarily forgetting his injuries. He hissed in pain, letting his body go slack against the cushions but still eager to hear what she was about to say. "You know him?"
She nodded and continued, his looks going unnoticed by her, a smile cracked across her shy, flushed face. She worked on the bandages now, gently pulling off the old ones to reveal bruised, cut skin underneath. It was almost mangled, actually. While he slept she had changed his bandages twice daily but now that he was awake she let her fingers only just gingerly skim over his wounds. The touch of his skin against her own made her hands shake but she pressed on; her tone very light and airy. "Oh yes. He and I are such good friends. He says," she pulled the bandage from his chest, "that I remind him of someone from his past. I forget her name. Are you two friends as well?" She looked up at him now.
Her blue eyes met his, and he recognized her to be his savior. Her voice was so different now as she spoke, when he lay beaten and broken outside of the cathedral steps, she was everything that Julia was; feminine, smart, adult, wonderful. What she was, her voice her demeanor now seemed contrived, fake even. She was an idiot, no one could be friends with Vicious, unless they were just like him. Again, he questioned her mentally, her personality, being so forced, maybe she was just like him. "Julia." He responded.
She nodded enthusiastically, "Oh yes! Yes, Mr. Spiegal, that was her name, Julia." She sighed in adoration for a moment, "Such a pretty, pretty name, isn't it?" Her eyes fell onto his own just as a plan was being formed into her mind; if this girl knew Vicious then he could use her to find him. He was always two steps ahead of Spike in finding Julia. Looking into her eyes, he let a small smile pass along his features.
"Beautiful name."
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