FRAMED - Cowboy Bebop fanfiction

Session 29

Grief stricken by her failed attempt to contact the outside world, Quinn sat quietly on the couch, unfazed by the sound of her captor blundering his way in through the front door. She had switched off the music playing through the TV, and successfully cleaned her surroundings.

"Q-Quinn-" Vicious stuttered as he swung the door shut behind him. The sound of sharp metal clanging against the wood flooring sent chills down Quinn's stiff figure. She flinched as she turned her head to the side. A katana, covered in dried blood, made itself comfortable on the floor just meters away from where she was sitting. The dark, crimson liquid coated the entire blade, covering up the entire metal shaft. If Quinn hadn't known any better she would have assumed the blade itself was red.

"Quinn," Vicious grumbled as he limped over towards the couch. He was clutching his shoulder. His hands were bloodied.

"Wh-what- where have you been?" Quinn stammered as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Vicious tucked a loose strand of silver hair behind his ear as he stumbled over to the small armchair adjacent to Quinn. She knew where he had gone, but judging by his disheveled appearance, Quinn assumed his plan didn't go accordingly.

"He tried to kill me," Vicious groaned in pain, dodging her question lazily as he took a seat a few feet away from her.

Quinn scoffed.

"Why do you sound surprised?" Quinn vilified, her tongue sharp with animosity. Vicious' eyes shifted upwards. His gaze felt like ice as his dark pupils examined the agitated expression Quinn wore on her face.

"I tried to negotiate with him, but you know how stubborn the man can be," Vicious replied, pulling his hand away from his shoulder. A bullet wound was visible through the hole in his overcoat.

"H-he shot you?" Quinn asked. She was surprised, but she didn't expect anything less from a man like Spike. Vicious chuckled coldly.

"Now you're the one who's acting surprised," Vicious replied, the sound of his throaty laughter dominating the silence that surrounded them. Quinn's eyes shifted to his torso. He seemed to have more wounds along his body. Clearly they had had a disastrous battle.

"What kind of negotiations did you try to make?" Quinn questioned hesitantly. Vicious was silent for a moment. He wiped his bloody palms together before clearing his throat.

"I asked if he wanted to be my partner again," Vicious grumbled. Quinn noticed he seemed to be avoiding eye contact. Shocked by his response, Quinn raised an eyebrow.

"You know he'd never join the syndicate again, your negotiation was hardly an offer," Quinn ridiculed, her cheeks flushed with anger.

"I suppose you're right, but I posed the offer because I wanted to see what kind of man he had become. He denied rejoining even after I had offered to hand you over safely," Vicious paused for a moment before lifting his head upwards. His frigid gaze cut into her soul.

"He didn't even know you were missing," Vicious replied gruffly.

The corners of Quinn's mouth tugged downwards as she repeated the sentence in her mind. Vicious noticed her expression alter. The look he gave her seemed to be one of genuine comfort, but Quinn didn't need it, nor did she want it. Vicious' demeanor began to defrost as Quinn felt herself losing touch with reality.

Had Spike really not noticed she was missing? He hadn't thought to even text her? He didn't seem that mad when they had parted ways, surely by the time she was taken he had cooled down, but no matter what way Quinn spun it, Spike clearly didn't care about her disappearance, nor was he in any way willing to find her.

"That must have upset you," Vicious stated. Quinn looked at him with disgust. Her eyebrows knit together in anger as she opened her mouth to speak.

"D-did he at least try to make a compromise?" Quinn stuttered, biting her tongue in fear. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear his response. Vicious sighed deeply, wincing in pain as his lungs inflated.

"Compromise? Quinn, I feel as if we have different men in mind," he chuckled painfully. Quinn's eyes darted away from his hunched figure. Of course he hadn't tried to make a compromise. Why would he have? He didn't have much to lose, and rejoining the syndicate would surely have been too much to bear, even for a man as tough as himself.

Vicious groaned as he placed a hand over the wound in his shoulder. Quinn didn't want to help him. She didn't think a man as cold blooded as him deserved her aid, so for a while, the two of them sat in silence. The only sound that sliced the stale air was the sound of their combined, staggered breathing.

Quinn's eyes regularly shifted between Vicious and the floor beneath him. His figure was like that of a wounded animal. He was defenseless, yet his confidence still permeated the space around him.

"If you think I'm going to help you, you're sadly mistaken," Quinn broke the silence. Vicious, startled, lifted his head upwards. His eyes locked with hers.

"I'm not a fool Quinn, I don't expect you to do such things," he replied hoarsely as he slowly lifted himself from his seat. His overcoat hung over his shoulders pathetically as he lumbered over to his blood soaked katana.

His words pierced Quinn's skin as she listened to the sound of metal scraping against the floor. From the side of her eye, Quinn watched Vicious limp his way up the stairs. The sound of the bedroom door opening and closing indicating that he had decided to retire for the night.

Quinn took a moment to process the conversation that had just unfolded. Had she heard him correctly? Was Spike really that unwilling to save her? He wasn't even aware of her disappearance, no wonder he wasn't willing to negotiate. Quinn didn't know how to feel. It was confirmed that he wasn't coming to rescue her, and it was also confirmed that he had no idea she was even missing.

Everything Vicious had told her was believable. In her mind, it all made sense, and even though it pained her to believe him, she had no reason to be skeptical. Spike was truly that kind of guy. He had demonstrated his lack of empathy multiple times before. The first time was how he treated her when they had first met, the second time (which should have been the last) was when he left her in her cell, and the last time being now. Quinn felt like a fool, but she had been feeling that way for quite some time.

She was an educated woman, why was this man throwing her off so much? She had trusted her gut the other night, and her gut had sabotaged her. Rolling her eyes at her own poor decision making, Quinn leaned back into the couch and closed her eyes. The sound of water running through the pipes led Quinn to believe Vicious had run a bath.

She sat there for a while until a sudden sound caught her ear. Moments after the water had shut off, a loud thump upstairs caused Quinn to jolt upwards. The thud seemed to be coming from the bathroom. Had Vicious fallen?

Quinn's heart race increased, but she didn't move from her seat. She waited for a moment, hoping to hear some indication of movement upstairs. Quinn, although holding a deep rooted hatred for her captor, began to grow worried as minutes of silence passed her by.

Something deep in the pit of her stomach urged her to head upstairs. Perhaps he had fallen, or maybe even passed out. Maybe he had died.

Quinn's heart leaped into her throat at the thought. As much as she hated him, she didn't want him dead, especially not while she was in the house with him. She didn't want to be responsible for his passing despite how deeply she loathed him.

Quinn sighed as she begrudgingly made her way up towards the bedroom.