Another CB fanfic
Posted: 2002-10-15 04:13pm
Here's actually my first CB fanfic. I wrote it after listening to Farewell Blues and Cosmos one too many times. Hey, Mike may even like it. It has a short sex scene. 
Trumpet Blues
Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky the 4th sat in front of Tomato, playing some crazy online game. She didn't even notice Ein walk behind her as she swung her arms wide. Ein went flying. The poor dog slid into the wall and yelped.
"Serves you right," Faye Valentine said to the dog as she walked through to flop on the couch. She picked up the remote and turned on the television. Perhaps there was a new bounty just waiting for her.
Big Shot appeared on the screen hawking the latest bounty. It was for three men, all average looking. The reward was forty million woolong. Faye began to drool at the prospect. "Ooh, yeah. This looks great."
Spike Spiegel walked into the room, his cigarette dangling from his mouth. "What looks great?"
"Oh, nothing." She jumped up and turned the TV off. Passing him by, she grabbed the cigarette from his mouth.
"Hey!"
Jet Black poked his head out from the kitchen. "What's going on out here?"
"Just the usual," Spike protested as he watched Faye. "She's up to something."
"Big Shot," yelled Ed. "Big Shot! Faye-Faye has gone looking for a bounty." She dragged the last word out as she smiled broadly.
"Figures," Spike said as he turned on the computer. He pulled up the latest bounties. "No wonder she ran off." He pointed to the huge reward.
Jet whistled low. "Shall we beat her to it," he said with a wink.
Spike grinned. "Absolutely."
***
Spike stood outside a jazz club in the city. He'd been drawn by the haunting sound of a blue trumpet. Unfortunately, the sound had stopped as soon as the rain started. He sighed in defeat and leaned against the wall.
A few minutes later, a woman exited the club. She had a rain cloak on with the hood pulled up. Stopping just outside the door, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. She removed one from the pack and fumbled for her lighter.
She looked up to see a flame before her. Lighting her cigarette, she took a deep puff and exhaled slowly. "Thanks," she said softly looking at the man before her.
Spike smiled. "Not a problem."
She cocked her head and looked at him. "I'll be damned. Spike Spiegel."
He looked taken aback. "You know me?"
"I should know the best damn blues trumpet player I've ever had the chance to play with."
He leaned against the light post across from her. "So, I should know you, too."
In one swift movement, she pulled the case from under her cloak and unzipped it. Inside was a beautiful silver-plated horn. Tossing the cigarette aside, she pulled out the horn and slipped the mouthpiece that appeared in her other hand on the end.
Softly, so softly, she began to play a haunting melody. One Spike had written long ago. He closed his eyes and listened, the rain falling on them, adding an even darker tone to the music. "Eva," he whispered.
"Very good, Spiegel." She returned the trumpet to its case. "What brings you around here?"
"Ah, nothing much. Just happened to be in the neighborhood."
"Still hanging around with that cheap-ass, bonsai tree hugging, former cop Jet Black?"
Spike had to chuckle. Her description of Jet was perfect, as was she. "Yeah."
"That means you're here on business, not pleasure." She frowned and sighed.
"Doesn't mean I can't mix business with pleasure." He stepped closer to her, looking down into her eyes.
***
Eva fixed them each a shot of whisky. The rain was cold and they both had gotten soaking wet on the way to her tiny apartment. She handed him the glass and sat across from him. "You seem... far away, Spike."
He downed the drink and sat the glass on the table. "Do I?"
A silence fell over them until she spoke again. "Do you ever play anymore?"
He shook his head. "No time."
"You have no idea how much it hurt when you walked away." She swallowed down the whisky and slammed the glass on the table. "You are the best horn player ever, Spike. Why did you give it all up?"
"Too many other things in the way," he replied with a shrug.
"Talk to me," she said softly. "Tell me what's going on in that head of yours."
"Not much to tell, Ev." He poured himself more whisky and downed it without a thought.
She stood up and moved behind him, running her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. Bringing her lips close to his ears, she whispered, "Let's renew our friendship, Spike. Like old times."
He grasped her hands and turned. Their lips met in a hot, intense kiss. Both knew what the other wanted.
***
He was sitting in a bar, Julia by his side. He looked at her and smiled. She looked so beautiful, her golden hair falling lightly over her shoulders. They were going to be together forever.
The sounds of a lonely trumpet floated through the air. Looking at the stage, he saw a young woman playing with all her heart. He knew this woman. She saw him and smiled. He smiled back.
***
Spike's eyes opened slowly for once. He looked around, not recognizing his surroundings. A sound came to his ears, the same sound he'd heard in his dream. The haunting melody drifted all around.
He sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair. Grabbing the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, he lit one. His eyes drifted to the woman sitting in the window sill. She was covered only by a sheet as she played the blues of a tortured soul.
She stopped when she realized he was awake. "Those things'll kill you," she said as she put the horn in her lap gently.
"Ah, I've already died once," he replied nonchalantly.
"So have I," she whispered to herself.
"What?"
"Why don't you come to the club tonight? Bring Jet. We can have a few drinks, you can listen to me play..."
"I really need to get started working, you know." He stood and began to dress.
"Trust me. It will be worth your time." She picked up her trumpet and spun it slowly on the palm of her hand.
He looked at her curiously as he pulled on his jacket. "Alright. We'll be there." He walked over and kissed her forehead. "Take care, Eva."
"You too, Spike."
***
Jet looked around the club as they entered. "Not a bad place. You think Eva's a permanent fixture here?"
Spike shrugged. "She's good, so anything is possible."
They made their way to a table in a dark corner. The lights lowered and a spotlight hit the stage. Eva stood in the center, her horn in her hands. She did a countdown and the stage exploded in music.
Jet couldn't help but tap his foot. "Hey! She *is* good."
Spike couldn't help but smile. He knew just how good she really was. His eyes scanned the crowd, but it was too dark to make out faces. He found himself content to sit back and listen to the good music.
The music finally began to slow down. Eva moved to stand beside the piano, putting a mute in the end of her horn. "This is a piece a good friend of mine wrote once. I've added on to it a bit." The lights dimmed, one spot on her and the piano. She began to play.
Spike knew the song. Every inch of it. She'd been playing it earlier in the day, when he woke up. He remembered when he'd written it. For her. They truly had been the best blues trumpeters ever.
She looked up, directly at him. He watched as her eyes drifted off. He followed her gaze. "Jet," he hissed as he kicked his partner.
"Huh?" Jet jumped slightly and looked where Spike was looking. "Hello, bounty," he said with a smile.
Eva finished the song and bowed to the thunderous applause. "We're going to take five now," she told the crowd as she lay her horn on the piano.
"Let's go," Spike said to Jet. "I'll go left."
The ex-cop nodded and headed off into the crowd.
***
Eva leaned against the wall just outside the side door of the club. She puffed on her cigarette, letting the smoke trail away before repeating the process. She heard something hit the door beside her and throw it open.
As nonchalantly as possible, she slid the case before her over in the path of the door. Jet's and Spike's bounty ran out the door and promptly tripped over the hard saxophone case. He flew across the alley and landed on the ground.
Scrambling to get up, he failed to notice the woman standing above him. One swift kick to his midsection and he hit the ground. Eva tossed her cigarette butt away and picked up the sax case.
Jet and Spike appeared in the doorway as she was walking in. "Did you see," Jet began before she pointed behind her.
"You're still amazing," Spike said to her as she passed by.
She smiled and kept going.
***
It didn't take long for them to get the guy to tell them where his buddies were. Spike looked longingly back towards the club. "Go find her," Jet told him as he picked up the bounty. "I'll meet you back at the Bebop."
Spike let a smile play across his face. "Thanks." He turned and dashed back into the club... and came to a stop. The room he saw was completely different that where he'd been earlier. It was brighter and not quite as fancy.
And, there was no band or stage.
He was confused. Moving to the bar, he waved over the 'tender. "Uh, was there a band playing earlier?"
The guy looked at him as if he'd been on 'shrooms. "There hasn't been a band here in five years, boy."
"Shit." Spike ran from the bar and headed towards Eva's apartment. He saw her in the window. She had her trumpet and was playing softly. Dashing up the stairs, he barreled through her doorway. "Eva? What's going on," he demanded.
She sat on the window sill. "You left me, Spike. Why?"
"I had things to do, Ev. I can't stay in one place long."
"It hurt. It hurt a lot. You like to hurt people, don't you?" Tears appeared in her eyes. "I cared, Spike. But you... you can't care." She slipped further out the window.
"Eva, don't," he begged.
"It's over, Spike. I'm through hurting."
He watched her fall from the window. Dashing over, he looked out the window for her body. Curiously, she wasn't there. There was no body splashed on the ground three stories below.
He turned around in confusion and saw an empty room. The bed was gone. There were no table or chairs. Just a couple of boxes. On top of one was a black case. He went over and opened it.
Inside sat a perfect silver trumpet.
He picked it up and began to play. He was rusty, but could still play the blues. After he finished, he put it back in the case and took it with him. "I'm sorry, Eva. I never knew."
***
Jet looked up from his bonsai trees as he saw Spike walking by. His friend looked forlorn, his hands in his pockets and an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Hey, did you find her," he asked as he got up to follow.
"Yes and no," Spike replied as he entered the lounge. He sat the trumpet case down on the table and dropped onto the couch. He stretched his long legs out before him and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling.
Faye entered and her eyes immediately fell upon the case. "Ooh, what's that." She reached to pick it up.
Spike quickly sat up and pulled the case away from her. "None of your business."
"But I want to see," she whined as she tried to grab for the case.
Spike kept it from her easily. Jet chuckled to himself, but quickly grew tired of the game. "FAYE!"
The young woman jumped at the sound of his voice and turned towards him. "What?"
"Sit down and perhaps Spike will tell us where Eva is and why he has her trumpet."
"Who's Eva," she asked as she sat on the couch.
Jet looked at Spike for an explanation. The green haired young man sighed and leaned back, the case clutched to his chest. "Eva was the greatest blues trumpet player in the universe. We knew each other once upon a time."
"So, did you find her or not?" Jet lowered himself to sit on the table.
"Yes and no," Spike repeated.
"That's no answer," Faye huffed.
"It is when I tell you exactly what I found out." He ran a hand through his unruly hair before continuing. "I went to her apartment. She was there, sitting in the window. When I got up there, she was really distraught, blaming me for something I had no idea about. That's when she said 'goodbye' and fell out of the window."
Jet and Faye both looked shocked. "Is she..." Jet didn't want to finish the sentence.
"Has been for years," he replied. "It seems she had fallen in love with me and when she found out I'd died, she decided to join me."
"I'm sorry," Jet said softly. They sat in silence. "So, who or what was that we saw," he finally asked.
Spike shrugged. "Her spirit, I guess. They say she's been haunting her apartment since then. Maybe when I showed up, she manifested herself in order to gain closure."
Faye put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Spike."
He gave her a slight grin. "Thanks. Inside the case is her trumpet."
She actually smiled as she stood. "I'll leave you alone," she said as she walked from the room.
Jet looked up. "Yeah, that's a good idea." He stood and headed for the kitchen. "I'll fix dinner, your favorite."
"Peppers, with real beef," Spike smiled.
After they both left, he pulled the horn from the case. The entire ship filled with music as he played his blues.
Trumpet Blues
Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky the 4th sat in front of Tomato, playing some crazy online game. She didn't even notice Ein walk behind her as she swung her arms wide. Ein went flying. The poor dog slid into the wall and yelped.
"Serves you right," Faye Valentine said to the dog as she walked through to flop on the couch. She picked up the remote and turned on the television. Perhaps there was a new bounty just waiting for her.
Big Shot appeared on the screen hawking the latest bounty. It was for three men, all average looking. The reward was forty million woolong. Faye began to drool at the prospect. "Ooh, yeah. This looks great."
Spike Spiegel walked into the room, his cigarette dangling from his mouth. "What looks great?"
"Oh, nothing." She jumped up and turned the TV off. Passing him by, she grabbed the cigarette from his mouth.
"Hey!"
Jet Black poked his head out from the kitchen. "What's going on out here?"
"Just the usual," Spike protested as he watched Faye. "She's up to something."
"Big Shot," yelled Ed. "Big Shot! Faye-Faye has gone looking for a bounty." She dragged the last word out as she smiled broadly.
"Figures," Spike said as he turned on the computer. He pulled up the latest bounties. "No wonder she ran off." He pointed to the huge reward.
Jet whistled low. "Shall we beat her to it," he said with a wink.
Spike grinned. "Absolutely."
***
Spike stood outside a jazz club in the city. He'd been drawn by the haunting sound of a blue trumpet. Unfortunately, the sound had stopped as soon as the rain started. He sighed in defeat and leaned against the wall.
A few minutes later, a woman exited the club. She had a rain cloak on with the hood pulled up. Stopping just outside the door, she pulled a pack of cigarettes from her pocket. She removed one from the pack and fumbled for her lighter.
She looked up to see a flame before her. Lighting her cigarette, she took a deep puff and exhaled slowly. "Thanks," she said softly looking at the man before her.
Spike smiled. "Not a problem."
She cocked her head and looked at him. "I'll be damned. Spike Spiegel."
He looked taken aback. "You know me?"
"I should know the best damn blues trumpet player I've ever had the chance to play with."
He leaned against the light post across from her. "So, I should know you, too."
In one swift movement, she pulled the case from under her cloak and unzipped it. Inside was a beautiful silver-plated horn. Tossing the cigarette aside, she pulled out the horn and slipped the mouthpiece that appeared in her other hand on the end.
Softly, so softly, she began to play a haunting melody. One Spike had written long ago. He closed his eyes and listened, the rain falling on them, adding an even darker tone to the music. "Eva," he whispered.
"Very good, Spiegel." She returned the trumpet to its case. "What brings you around here?"
"Ah, nothing much. Just happened to be in the neighborhood."
"Still hanging around with that cheap-ass, bonsai tree hugging, former cop Jet Black?"
Spike had to chuckle. Her description of Jet was perfect, as was she. "Yeah."
"That means you're here on business, not pleasure." She frowned and sighed.
"Doesn't mean I can't mix business with pleasure." He stepped closer to her, looking down into her eyes.
***
Eva fixed them each a shot of whisky. The rain was cold and they both had gotten soaking wet on the way to her tiny apartment. She handed him the glass and sat across from him. "You seem... far away, Spike."
He downed the drink and sat the glass on the table. "Do I?"
A silence fell over them until she spoke again. "Do you ever play anymore?"
He shook his head. "No time."
"You have no idea how much it hurt when you walked away." She swallowed down the whisky and slammed the glass on the table. "You are the best horn player ever, Spike. Why did you give it all up?"
"Too many other things in the way," he replied with a shrug.
"Talk to me," she said softly. "Tell me what's going on in that head of yours."
"Not much to tell, Ev." He poured himself more whisky and downed it without a thought.
She stood up and moved behind him, running her hands over his shoulders and down his chest. Bringing her lips close to his ears, she whispered, "Let's renew our friendship, Spike. Like old times."
He grasped her hands and turned. Their lips met in a hot, intense kiss. Both knew what the other wanted.
***
He was sitting in a bar, Julia by his side. He looked at her and smiled. She looked so beautiful, her golden hair falling lightly over her shoulders. They were going to be together forever.
The sounds of a lonely trumpet floated through the air. Looking at the stage, he saw a young woman playing with all her heart. He knew this woman. She saw him and smiled. He smiled back.
***
Spike's eyes opened slowly for once. He looked around, not recognizing his surroundings. A sound came to his ears, the same sound he'd heard in his dream. The haunting melody drifted all around.
He sat up and ran a hand through his tousled hair. Grabbing the pack of cigarettes from the bedside table, he lit one. His eyes drifted to the woman sitting in the window sill. She was covered only by a sheet as she played the blues of a tortured soul.
She stopped when she realized he was awake. "Those things'll kill you," she said as she put the horn in her lap gently.
"Ah, I've already died once," he replied nonchalantly.
"So have I," she whispered to herself.
"What?"
"Why don't you come to the club tonight? Bring Jet. We can have a few drinks, you can listen to me play..."
"I really need to get started working, you know." He stood and began to dress.
"Trust me. It will be worth your time." She picked up her trumpet and spun it slowly on the palm of her hand.
He looked at her curiously as he pulled on his jacket. "Alright. We'll be there." He walked over and kissed her forehead. "Take care, Eva."
"You too, Spike."
***
Jet looked around the club as they entered. "Not a bad place. You think Eva's a permanent fixture here?"
Spike shrugged. "She's good, so anything is possible."
They made their way to a table in a dark corner. The lights lowered and a spotlight hit the stage. Eva stood in the center, her horn in her hands. She did a countdown and the stage exploded in music.
Jet couldn't help but tap his foot. "Hey! She *is* good."
Spike couldn't help but smile. He knew just how good she really was. His eyes scanned the crowd, but it was too dark to make out faces. He found himself content to sit back and listen to the good music.
The music finally began to slow down. Eva moved to stand beside the piano, putting a mute in the end of her horn. "This is a piece a good friend of mine wrote once. I've added on to it a bit." The lights dimmed, one spot on her and the piano. She began to play.
Spike knew the song. Every inch of it. She'd been playing it earlier in the day, when he woke up. He remembered when he'd written it. For her. They truly had been the best blues trumpeters ever.
She looked up, directly at him. He watched as her eyes drifted off. He followed her gaze. "Jet," he hissed as he kicked his partner.
"Huh?" Jet jumped slightly and looked where Spike was looking. "Hello, bounty," he said with a smile.
Eva finished the song and bowed to the thunderous applause. "We're going to take five now," she told the crowd as she lay her horn on the piano.
"Let's go," Spike said to Jet. "I'll go left."
The ex-cop nodded and headed off into the crowd.
***
Eva leaned against the wall just outside the side door of the club. She puffed on her cigarette, letting the smoke trail away before repeating the process. She heard something hit the door beside her and throw it open.
As nonchalantly as possible, she slid the case before her over in the path of the door. Jet's and Spike's bounty ran out the door and promptly tripped over the hard saxophone case. He flew across the alley and landed on the ground.
Scrambling to get up, he failed to notice the woman standing above him. One swift kick to his midsection and he hit the ground. Eva tossed her cigarette butt away and picked up the sax case.
Jet and Spike appeared in the doorway as she was walking in. "Did you see," Jet began before she pointed behind her.
"You're still amazing," Spike said to her as she passed by.
She smiled and kept going.
***
It didn't take long for them to get the guy to tell them where his buddies were. Spike looked longingly back towards the club. "Go find her," Jet told him as he picked up the bounty. "I'll meet you back at the Bebop."
Spike let a smile play across his face. "Thanks." He turned and dashed back into the club... and came to a stop. The room he saw was completely different that where he'd been earlier. It was brighter and not quite as fancy.
And, there was no band or stage.
He was confused. Moving to the bar, he waved over the 'tender. "Uh, was there a band playing earlier?"
The guy looked at him as if he'd been on 'shrooms. "There hasn't been a band here in five years, boy."
"Shit." Spike ran from the bar and headed towards Eva's apartment. He saw her in the window. She had her trumpet and was playing softly. Dashing up the stairs, he barreled through her doorway. "Eva? What's going on," he demanded.
She sat on the window sill. "You left me, Spike. Why?"
"I had things to do, Ev. I can't stay in one place long."
"It hurt. It hurt a lot. You like to hurt people, don't you?" Tears appeared in her eyes. "I cared, Spike. But you... you can't care." She slipped further out the window.
"Eva, don't," he begged.
"It's over, Spike. I'm through hurting."
He watched her fall from the window. Dashing over, he looked out the window for her body. Curiously, she wasn't there. There was no body splashed on the ground three stories below.
He turned around in confusion and saw an empty room. The bed was gone. There were no table or chairs. Just a couple of boxes. On top of one was a black case. He went over and opened it.
Inside sat a perfect silver trumpet.
He picked it up and began to play. He was rusty, but could still play the blues. After he finished, he put it back in the case and took it with him. "I'm sorry, Eva. I never knew."
***
Jet looked up from his bonsai trees as he saw Spike walking by. His friend looked forlorn, his hands in his pockets and an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. "Hey, did you find her," he asked as he got up to follow.
"Yes and no," Spike replied as he entered the lounge. He sat the trumpet case down on the table and dropped onto the couch. He stretched his long legs out before him and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling.
Faye entered and her eyes immediately fell upon the case. "Ooh, what's that." She reached to pick it up.
Spike quickly sat up and pulled the case away from her. "None of your business."
"But I want to see," she whined as she tried to grab for the case.
Spike kept it from her easily. Jet chuckled to himself, but quickly grew tired of the game. "FAYE!"
The young woman jumped at the sound of his voice and turned towards him. "What?"
"Sit down and perhaps Spike will tell us where Eva is and why he has her trumpet."
"Who's Eva," she asked as she sat on the couch.
Jet looked at Spike for an explanation. The green haired young man sighed and leaned back, the case clutched to his chest. "Eva was the greatest blues trumpet player in the universe. We knew each other once upon a time."
"So, did you find her or not?" Jet lowered himself to sit on the table.
"Yes and no," Spike repeated.
"That's no answer," Faye huffed.
"It is when I tell you exactly what I found out." He ran a hand through his unruly hair before continuing. "I went to her apartment. She was there, sitting in the window. When I got up there, she was really distraught, blaming me for something I had no idea about. That's when she said 'goodbye' and fell out of the window."
Jet and Faye both looked shocked. "Is she..." Jet didn't want to finish the sentence.
"Has been for years," he replied. "It seems she had fallen in love with me and when she found out I'd died, she decided to join me."
"I'm sorry," Jet said softly. They sat in silence. "So, who or what was that we saw," he finally asked.
Spike shrugged. "Her spirit, I guess. They say she's been haunting her apartment since then. Maybe when I showed up, she manifested herself in order to gain closure."
Faye put a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, Spike."
He gave her a slight grin. "Thanks. Inside the case is her trumpet."
She actually smiled as she stood. "I'll leave you alone," she said as she walked from the room.
Jet looked up. "Yeah, that's a good idea." He stood and headed for the kitchen. "I'll fix dinner, your favorite."
"Peppers, with real beef," Spike smiled.
After they both left, he pulled the horn from the case. The entire ship filled with music as he played his blues.