![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
On the Bebop
Jul. 1st, 2006 05:47 pmBeth, I'm sorry. I've tried every door and it's not working. None of them are bringing me back to you, or at least to where I last saw you. I'll tell you one thing, though: if by some twist of fate I find you again, I'm never fucking letting you use that bar bathroom again without me. It's not that he's trying to make jokes, but if he doesn't move forward with hope, it only leaves despair.
Yeah, he's a fatalist. He sure as hell is, always has been. But he's also an opportunist, and he thinks a whole lot about all the shit that's happened. Mostly he thinks one thing: the last time he fought Vicious, it brought him to the bar. Maybe things aren't completely hopeless. Maybe the same damn thing will happen this time. And so he walks out of the main cabin with every intention of heading straight to his berth and then his workshop: he needs his coat, the one hanging there so innocently in the closet. That's part of his battle gear, with all those pockets. He needs extra guns; he needs grenades. Ammo, lots of it. Time-delay explosives. And a strong fucking will to survive at least as long as he did last time this happened
(what a nightmare)
but that's not in any of those rooms. That's right here in his heart. It's here when he thinks of his angel, the one with the scar and the crooked smile and the belly the size of a manatee, and the baby she's carrying in there. He promised her he'd be there for her and the baby, and he's been able to keep his promises so far. Even Vicious shouldn't be powerful enough to take that dream away from him.
The only troubling thing is a dream he had one night, up in their room over the bar: he dreamed that Vicious killed Beth. Shot her right through the temple while he was lying there, bandaged up, unable to move, and he had to watch it. He has a nagging fucking worry: there are other dead people at the bar. Julia was dead, Gren's dead, Elaine's dead. What if he kills Vicious again, but this time it's that son of a bitch who ends up at the end of the universe?
No. Sorry. I'm not going to let that happen. He told Beth the night he had that dream that he'd die before letting anyone hurt her.
Who the fuck are you kidding? You don't even know where she is. Realistically there are only two places she can be: back at the bar, pissed off as hell at him for disappearing, or in Cooksfield. He'll take back at the bar pissed off as hell at him for disappearing. He's never believed in God, but if there is one, he hopes like fuck that he's a generous guy and he thinks, please. Please. Beth's had to endure enough shit. Let her be safe. Let her baby be safe. And no matter where she is, let me get back to her: the bar, Cooksfield, some little house on Venus with a white picket fence, I don't give a shit which place it ends up being. Just let us be together and stay together and then I promise I won't ever ask for any more damn favors.
His little moment of hope or prayer or whatever's cut short, though, by the telltale click of a safety latch disengaging and the feel of cold steel hovering just inches from his right temple.
Yeah, he's a fatalist. He sure as hell is, always has been. But he's also an opportunist, and he thinks a whole lot about all the shit that's happened. Mostly he thinks one thing: the last time he fought Vicious, it brought him to the bar. Maybe things aren't completely hopeless. Maybe the same damn thing will happen this time. And so he walks out of the main cabin with every intention of heading straight to his berth and then his workshop: he needs his coat, the one hanging there so innocently in the closet. That's part of his battle gear, with all those pockets. He needs extra guns; he needs grenades. Ammo, lots of it. Time-delay explosives. And a strong fucking will to survive at least as long as he did last time this happened
(what a nightmare)
but that's not in any of those rooms. That's right here in his heart. It's here when he thinks of his angel, the one with the scar and the crooked smile and the belly the size of a manatee, and the baby she's carrying in there. He promised her he'd be there for her and the baby, and he's been able to keep his promises so far. Even Vicious shouldn't be powerful enough to take that dream away from him.
The only troubling thing is a dream he had one night, up in their room over the bar: he dreamed that Vicious killed Beth. Shot her right through the temple while he was lying there, bandaged up, unable to move, and he had to watch it. He has a nagging fucking worry: there are other dead people at the bar. Julia was dead, Gren's dead, Elaine's dead. What if he kills Vicious again, but this time it's that son of a bitch who ends up at the end of the universe?
No. Sorry. I'm not going to let that happen. He told Beth the night he had that dream that he'd die before letting anyone hurt her.
Who the fuck are you kidding? You don't even know where she is. Realistically there are only two places she can be: back at the bar, pissed off as hell at him for disappearing, or in Cooksfield. He'll take back at the bar pissed off as hell at him for disappearing. He's never believed in God, but if there is one, he hopes like fuck that he's a generous guy and he thinks, please. Please. Beth's had to endure enough shit. Let her be safe. Let her baby be safe. And no matter where she is, let me get back to her: the bar, Cooksfield, some little house on Venus with a white picket fence, I don't give a shit which place it ends up being. Just let us be together and stay together and then I promise I won't ever ask for any more damn favors.
His little moment of hope or prayer or whatever's cut short, though, by the telltale click of a safety latch disengaging and the feel of cold steel hovering just inches from his right temple.
