Authoress: Michelle C.
Series: Cowboy Bebop
Disclaimers: Lezzee. Do you think I own Cowboy Bebop? Thought not. *Munches on super fattening stuff* What? I'm a girl. An upset one, at that. Girls can pig out when depressed. It's a written rule. Plus, I'm too stupid to create something great like CB, anyways.From the Eyes of a Shrew
"J-Julia's m-m-my niece?" I stuttered.
A brief flash of Julia, now grown, still blonde, and still beautiful flashed across the misty abyss. Then, the image blurred and became that of Spike. I looked away when the green-afroed lunk-head come into sight and when I gazed back, Jet's face was showing. When Jet appeared, it stopped and it was like audio suddenly clicked on again like in that memory with… Julia. And her falling.
"So… What's she like?" Jet asked in my memory.
"She's… ordinary," I replied.
Jet was quiet and his face was a mask of curiosity mixed in with somewhat of a type of respect for me, silently asking me whether I wanted to continue or not and telling me that it was alright if I didn't. I did.
"The kind of dangerous, beautiful ordinary that you just can't leave alone," I said in my memory. It was like watching a movie, an old, old movie that I had memorized all the lines from already. I continued speaking to Jet in my memory, "Like an angel from the underworld or maybe a devil from paradise."
It was a few months after that event had taken place and I still remembered everything. It was the day that I had realized how utterly perfect that Julia was; it was the day that I had given up on any future I could have had with Spike Spiegel, the man that I had loved. I had given him up to the Angel of Death; he belonged to her as a puppy belonged to the holder of his leash. He loved her even though she betrayed him, even though he tortured himself for nearly a year, not sure whether his love was dead or alive.
As suddenly as Julia's face appeared again, it disappeared, leaving behind only the smoky white mist that it had left every time, almost like the vapors were the erasers, attempting to erase the past.
The past is one thing that nothing can erase. That was one thing I learned long ago. Whether you want to or not, the past always catches up to you sooner or later. Before, I had no past, but I wondered about it. I even created a past for myself, adding this and that to what other people had given to me. I was a singer; I was a gypsy; I was Poker Alice, the greatest poker player in the universe; I was Faye without a last name; I was Faye Valentine.
Later, my past started finding me in bits and pieces, like seeing an old friend. Or an old scene. Or something familiar.
Now the past was here.
"Now do you understand?"
"I know you know what."
I sighed and said slowly, "Yes. I do."
"Do what? Know? Or understand?"
"…understand. I understand," I replied. "Now, I understand," I said before my younger self faded away. I knew she would never come back. She had come to help me understand and find my way; she was to help rekindle the memories of my past and now that her task had been fulfilled, I knew that that would be the very spot that she would stay: in my memories.
In the past.