Sense of Timing

Spike seems to have a knack for going on a bounty hunt at exactly the wrong time. This time was no different. They were here for him – but somehow, they found us.

I heard five different ships entering the hangar. They'd probably hacked the Bebop and opened it. Now that Ed wasn't around, the Bebop didn't have the protection it used to; at least, not in the way that Ed provided protection.

We'd found Spike in a hospital three days after the Vicious confrontation. It'd been one year and things were…well, getting back to normal. But now, Spike's little "friends" had decided that he had to die and now it looked like they would probably kill his pals just for the fun of it.

I opened the door to my room with my Glock in hand and immediately heard a shot and a cry. Oh God. Jet.

I heard cruel laughs and started running as quietly as I could toward the bridge. I stopped as soon as I entered it to see Jet on the ground bleeding. There were three guys standing there surrounding him. They looked at me, surprised, and I didn't even give them time to raise their weapons. The first one I got in the knee cap and then square in the chest; the second in the shoulder and the second shot grazed his head, probably knocking him out; the third I got in the neck. As I knelt down to disarm them, I felt numb. My weapon dropped from my shaking hand onto the floor and I stumbled over to Jet.

"Jet! Shit… Hang on."

I turn him and my eyes begin to water. He's shot in the chest. Near his heart.

"Oh God! Please Jet hang on!"

The tears were running freely now and even Jet who was nearly dying widened his eyes when he looked at me.

"Two…more…"

I wasn't even listening. I stripped off my red shirt and press it to the hole in his chest.

"Shh… Don't talk. Don't… don't… leave me."

I continued to press my shirt to his chest as I leaned onto him and kissed him on the cheek. I lied down on his chest as I cried.

"F… aye…"

He wrapped one arm feebly around me and spoke again.

"Two…m…ore..."

Suddenly, I was being pulled up by my hair and an arm wrapped around my waist as another hand reached to hold my arm back. I screamed.

"Let go!"

"Now, now, lady – someone as pretty as you should have some fun before she dies." He laughed maliciously; he sounded drunk.

I looked at Jet in the ground, bleeding. He was so pale. I could see his arm moving and his phone came into view as he started dialing a number. I supposed he was calling Spike. Distraction. I needed a distraction. This was our only chance.

Suddenly, I went limp, pretending to faint, hoping to catch them off guard. It worked. "What the..." one of the guards stuttered as his grip loosened in surprise. This was it.

I slammed my foot down on the instep of the thug behind me and kicked the other in front of me in the balls. The one in front of me fell to the ground instantly and the other loosened his hold on me even more. My head hit his nose and I took the opportunity to run. There was no way I was going to get my gun back in a hurry. Still, I fought the urge to try and kick their asses. My thoughts turned to Jet – I didn't want to leave him alone for too long, but I also didn't want to die; if I did, I wouldn't be able to save him.

I headed to the kitchen and opened a drawer. Taking the biggest one I could find, I turned around, ready to face my attackers. The one with the broken nose was there. I grabbed a frying pan and threw it at him, making him drop the gun at it glanced off his head. He yelped and I jumped at him, sticking the knife in his stomach. He screamed and I yanked the knife away from him, only to stab him again in the chest. I winced as blood hit my face and chest but continued to stab until I was tired and crying.

Abruptly, I stopped. I had somewhere else to be.

I got up and headed to the bridge, leaving a puddle of blood in the hallway. It didn't matter right then, though; only Jet mattered. I got to the bridge and the other guy was only just getting up from my beautiful kick in the jewels. I ran to him and kicked him in the shins. He cried out and bends over, trying to protect himself from anymore blows and I grabbed his hair, yanking him backward and onto the floor. I pressed the tip of the knife against his throat and I saw his eyes widen.

Dead calm reigned inside of me. I smirked without feeling, and said, "How does it feel?" before cutting his throat. A spray of blood hit my face and chest as he fell to the floor in a heap, gasping, whistling noises coming from his throat. I narrowed my eyes at him, and threw the knife. It seemed to spin in the air for at least a full minute before coming down into his chest. He stopped moving.

I looked down in a daze. The front of my body was covered in blood and its smell was starting to make its way to my nose. It was beginning to make me sick. No time for that.

I looked at Jet and I began to cry again. His chest wasn't moving. I ran to his side and put my ear to his mouth. He wasn't breathing.

"Jet!"

I fell on top of him crying. I couldn't remember crying like this, ever. Now that my memory had came back, I remembered lots of crying...but none of it ever came close to this.

"Jet…Jet…Jet…"

I continued whispering his name, trying to call him back to the living.