A/N: A couple nights ago after watching Ballad of Fallen Angels, this idea sprung into my head with the force of rifled bullet, and it knocked me flat. The words are the blood, and the story the wound; bandages are still in the making.
"Understanding the Past"
Faye sat in the half-empty bar, legs swinging over the edge of her stool. She sighed and took a drag from her cigarette. The smoke curled lazily around her fingers, and she watched it dissipate.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, glinting off the metal counter in front of her and making the whisky in her glass glitter. Here she was again, on damned Mars. She hated Mars, hated it with a passion. It was *his* home planet, and that was reason enough.
Damn him for leaving. And damn Ed and Ein too, for going away. She and Jet had been alone on the Bebop for ten years. Ten years - but it seemed like an eternity to Faye. Nothing had changed, and everything had. Other crew members came and went like fireflies. They flickered and then they flew away into the night, lights fading in the distance.
None of them understood. They didn't understand why the ancient Swordfish remained on the ship, or why Jet religiously maintained it when it was never flown. They didn't understand *why* it was never flown, or why every once in a while Faye would crawl into the cockpit and sit mindlessly, staring off into space with tears streaming down her cheeks. They didn't understand the bedroom that was never changed, the closet that still contained skinny black ties and yellow shirts. They didn't understand why Jet hated Bruce Lee movies, or how a visit to the most pleasant planet in the solar system, Mars, could bring both Jet and Faye crashing down into deep depressions. They didn't understand why dogs weren't allowed on the ship or why they never went after hackers or mop-haired badasses as bounties, or why they hated black birds and the syndicates so much.
Most of all, Faye thought, they didn't understand why no one on the Bebop ever spoke about the past. In fact, she and Jet often didn't speak at all; they had a finely tuned system of gestures and glances that worked like a well-oiled engine. They could capture a bounty head with ten phrases or less; the record was four. After that one idyllic time, when there had been a family of misfits aboard the Bebop, there was no need to say anything. Words only brought pain.
Faye had only to think back on it and it made her want to shudder and cry and scream all at once. Images passed unwanted through her mind, and she rested her forehead on the counter. Spike sitting on the couch, nursing some injury and lazing around. Ed bouncing about, babbling something or other while Ein chased her and barked. Damn them all again. They had left her. She had opened herself up, and then they went and left her.
She growled and tightened her hands into fists. Memories, she decided, were the bane of existence. They had always screwed her over, messed with her mind, caused her pain. Pain pain pain, too much pain.
The bell over the door tinkled and Faye sat up and glanced over. The newcomer was a woman, tall and slender, with bright red hair that looked so much like Ed's that it made her heart hurt. Ed. Dear annoying Ed, with the goofy grin and the brilliance. She missed Ed just like she missed that damn mop-head and the stupid dog.
The woman sat next to her, white button-up shirt pale against tanned skin. The bartender came over and asked her what she wanted.
"Just a shot of whisky, if you will," she said. The bartender nodded and set the shot in front of her. The woman pulled a cigarette out of her shirt pocket and then patted for a lighter. Not finding one, she turned to Faye.
"Can I bum a light off you?"
Faye nodded and pulled out her lighter. She flicked it, and the flame burst out, bright and yellow like Spike's shirts. The woman lit her cigarette and smiled as she smoked.
"So, what are *you* doing in a bar this early?" she asked. She twirled the cigarette in her fingers.
"Me? Oh, I'm just drinking away my woes." Faye yawned and downed the rest of her whisky.
"You might want to go easy. It's barely noon."
Faye shrugged. "When my task is to drink, I complete it efficiently."
"You're not from Mars, are you?"
Faye's eyes widened and she turned to the woman. How. . .? "No, I'm not. I'm from Earth."
The woman's mouth widened into a grin, and Faye wanted to wince. She looked more and more like Ed every minute. "I thought so. Your accent is different."
Faye listened, and through the slight whisky haze she could tell that this woman was also not from Mars. "You're an Earthling too, aren't you?"
She nodded. "From the land of meteor showers indeed." She blew out a ribbon of smoke. It curled up like a cat's tail, and she smiled at it. "Pictures in the air. They're so pretty, just like the drawings that that satellite made on Earth a while ago."
Faye's hand shook. The satellite. Ed. Dammit, why did this woman have to remind her at every turn? She leaned her head into her hands, wiping the hair from her face. She should leave now, before too much came back. Go back to the Bebop, where at least the memories belonged and were safe; there they weren't open and fragile like they were in this bar. They weren't subject to the harsh light of day and the smile of this woman like a ghost.
"Are you alright?" Her voice broke through the haze, and Faye lifted her head. She held her shaking hand in the other and put a smile on her face. The bartender slid her another shot of whisky, and she fought the desire to down it immediately.
"I'll be fine. Just remembering some things that I oughtn't have remembered."
"The past is past, huh?" The woman swung on her stool, short red hair flying.
Faye looked away. "Yes. You can't live in the past." She tossed her cigarette butt into an ashtray and lit another. She spoke, half to herself and half to no one in particular. "But you can live in a dream."
"That's all life is, you know. A dream."
Faye smiled. This woman seemed to understand. This red-haired stranger that was a ghost of the goofy hacker that had become like a sister to her - she understood. Somehow, she knew the dream.
"A dream indeed. Maybe it's more like a nightmare." Faye laughed quietly.
"But even nightmares can be pleasant, oddly enough." The woman laughed along with her. "It's absurd."
Faye nodded. "It is." She sighed and inhaled. "I wonder if we ever wake up."
The woman shrugged. "What does it matter, as long as we enjoy the dream while we're in it?"
Faye glanced over. This woman was becoming more and more intriguing. "You ever thought of being a bounty hunter?" Perhaps she might join the ship.
She looked slightly surprised at the sudden question, and then a fleeting look of regret flew over her face. "I was one, once upon a time. Long long ago, before I left to find my home." She chuckled. "I miss it at times, but I did finally find my home."
"I still am one. My own home is gone, so there's no use looking for it."
"I'm sorry." The woman paused, and then stood. "Well, I've got to be going. It was nice talking to you." They shook hands, and then she turned and left.
"Same here." Faye swirled her finger in her drink. She was strange, so strange, this woman. So like Ed. The bell clanged as the door opened, and a dog barked. She looked over to the door.
The woman stood bent over in the doorway, untying a dog leash from a bar. She stood and waved. The dog jumped about, barking. It was a little Welsh corgi with bright eyes.
"Good-bye, Faye-Faye!" The woman pulled a pair of goggles out of her purse and put them on. Her hair fell over them into her eyes, and she smiled, smoothing her black skirt. Then she turned and left, the corgi pattering after her.
Faye shot upright. "*Ed!*" She ran out the door after her. People walked past her, a living ocean. Faye looked up and down the street, but the red-haired woman with the corgi was gone, had disappeared into the crowds.
"Good-bye, Ed," Faye whispered. She ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. "No wonder you understood."
No wonder at all. She knew the story behind the unchanging ship and room, the music behind all the sadness. She was a part of the past. And, like the past, she had left; even in dreams, the past had no place in the present.
Faye tossed her head back and looked up into the sky. She whistled a bar of an old jazz tune, and then spoke to herself.
"Maybe I'll take the Swordfish out for a spin today."
:::fly fly fly, like a demon in the sky, leave your past behind you and let your heart be true:::
"Understanding the Past"
Faye sat in the half-empty bar, legs swinging over the edge of her stool. She sighed and took a drag from her cigarette. The smoke curled lazily around her fingers, and she watched it dissipate.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, glinting off the metal counter in front of her and making the whisky in her glass glitter. Here she was again, on damned Mars. She hated Mars, hated it with a passion. It was *his* home planet, and that was reason enough.
Damn him for leaving. And damn Ed and Ein too, for going away. She and Jet had been alone on the Bebop for ten years. Ten years - but it seemed like an eternity to Faye. Nothing had changed, and everything had. Other crew members came and went like fireflies. They flickered and then they flew away into the night, lights fading in the distance.
None of them understood. They didn't understand why the ancient Swordfish remained on the ship, or why Jet religiously maintained it when it was never flown. They didn't understand *why* it was never flown, or why every once in a while Faye would crawl into the cockpit and sit mindlessly, staring off into space with tears streaming down her cheeks. They didn't understand the bedroom that was never changed, the closet that still contained skinny black ties and yellow shirts. They didn't understand why Jet hated Bruce Lee movies, or how a visit to the most pleasant planet in the solar system, Mars, could bring both Jet and Faye crashing down into deep depressions. They didn't understand why dogs weren't allowed on the ship or why they never went after hackers or mop-haired badasses as bounties, or why they hated black birds and the syndicates so much.
Most of all, Faye thought, they didn't understand why no one on the Bebop ever spoke about the past. In fact, she and Jet often didn't speak at all; they had a finely tuned system of gestures and glances that worked like a well-oiled engine. They could capture a bounty head with ten phrases or less; the record was four. After that one idyllic time, when there had been a family of misfits aboard the Bebop, there was no need to say anything. Words only brought pain.
Faye had only to think back on it and it made her want to shudder and cry and scream all at once. Images passed unwanted through her mind, and she rested her forehead on the counter. Spike sitting on the couch, nursing some injury and lazing around. Ed bouncing about, babbling something or other while Ein chased her and barked. Damn them all again. They had left her. She had opened herself up, and then they went and left her.
She growled and tightened her hands into fists. Memories, she decided, were the bane of existence. They had always screwed her over, messed with her mind, caused her pain. Pain pain pain, too much pain.
The bell over the door tinkled and Faye sat up and glanced over. The newcomer was a woman, tall and slender, with bright red hair that looked so much like Ed's that it made her heart hurt. Ed. Dear annoying Ed, with the goofy grin and the brilliance. She missed Ed just like she missed that damn mop-head and the stupid dog.
The woman sat next to her, white button-up shirt pale against tanned skin. The bartender came over and asked her what she wanted.
"Just a shot of whisky, if you will," she said. The bartender nodded and set the shot in front of her. The woman pulled a cigarette out of her shirt pocket and then patted for a lighter. Not finding one, she turned to Faye.
"Can I bum a light off you?"
Faye nodded and pulled out her lighter. She flicked it, and the flame burst out, bright and yellow like Spike's shirts. The woman lit her cigarette and smiled as she smoked.
"So, what are *you* doing in a bar this early?" she asked. She twirled the cigarette in her fingers.
"Me? Oh, I'm just drinking away my woes." Faye yawned and downed the rest of her whisky.
"You might want to go easy. It's barely noon."
Faye shrugged. "When my task is to drink, I complete it efficiently."
"You're not from Mars, are you?"
Faye's eyes widened and she turned to the woman. How. . .? "No, I'm not. I'm from Earth."
The woman's mouth widened into a grin, and Faye wanted to wince. She looked more and more like Ed every minute. "I thought so. Your accent is different."
Faye listened, and through the slight whisky haze she could tell that this woman was also not from Mars. "You're an Earthling too, aren't you?"
She nodded. "From the land of meteor showers indeed." She blew out a ribbon of smoke. It curled up like a cat's tail, and she smiled at it. "Pictures in the air. They're so pretty, just like the drawings that that satellite made on Earth a while ago."
Faye's hand shook. The satellite. Ed. Dammit, why did this woman have to remind her at every turn? She leaned her head into her hands, wiping the hair from her face. She should leave now, before too much came back. Go back to the Bebop, where at least the memories belonged and were safe; there they weren't open and fragile like they were in this bar. They weren't subject to the harsh light of day and the smile of this woman like a ghost.
"Are you alright?" Her voice broke through the haze, and Faye lifted her head. She held her shaking hand in the other and put a smile on her face. The bartender slid her another shot of whisky, and she fought the desire to down it immediately.
"I'll be fine. Just remembering some things that I oughtn't have remembered."
"The past is past, huh?" The woman swung on her stool, short red hair flying.
Faye looked away. "Yes. You can't live in the past." She tossed her cigarette butt into an ashtray and lit another. She spoke, half to herself and half to no one in particular. "But you can live in a dream."
"That's all life is, you know. A dream."
Faye smiled. This woman seemed to understand. This red-haired stranger that was a ghost of the goofy hacker that had become like a sister to her - she understood. Somehow, she knew the dream.
"A dream indeed. Maybe it's more like a nightmare." Faye laughed quietly.
"But even nightmares can be pleasant, oddly enough." The woman laughed along with her. "It's absurd."
Faye nodded. "It is." She sighed and inhaled. "I wonder if we ever wake up."
The woman shrugged. "What does it matter, as long as we enjoy the dream while we're in it?"
Faye glanced over. This woman was becoming more and more intriguing. "You ever thought of being a bounty hunter?" Perhaps she might join the ship.
She looked slightly surprised at the sudden question, and then a fleeting look of regret flew over her face. "I was one, once upon a time. Long long ago, before I left to find my home." She chuckled. "I miss it at times, but I did finally find my home."
"I still am one. My own home is gone, so there's no use looking for it."
"I'm sorry." The woman paused, and then stood. "Well, I've got to be going. It was nice talking to you." They shook hands, and then she turned and left.
"Same here." Faye swirled her finger in her drink. She was strange, so strange, this woman. So like Ed. The bell clanged as the door opened, and a dog barked. She looked over to the door.
The woman stood bent over in the doorway, untying a dog leash from a bar. She stood and waved. The dog jumped about, barking. It was a little Welsh corgi with bright eyes.
"Good-bye, Faye-Faye!" The woman pulled a pair of goggles out of her purse and put them on. Her hair fell over them into her eyes, and she smiled, smoothing her black skirt. Then she turned and left, the corgi pattering after her.
Faye shot upright. "*Ed!*" She ran out the door after her. People walked past her, a living ocean. Faye looked up and down the street, but the red-haired woman with the corgi was gone, had disappeared into the crowds.
"Good-bye, Ed," Faye whispered. She ran her hands through her hair and took a deep breath. "No wonder you understood."
No wonder at all. She knew the story behind the unchanging ship and room, the music behind all the sadness. She was a part of the past. And, like the past, she had left; even in dreams, the past had no place in the present.
Faye tossed her head back and looked up into the sky. She whistled a bar of an old jazz tune, and then spoke to herself.
"Maybe I'll take the Swordfish out for a spin today."
:::fly fly fly, like a demon in the sky, leave your past behind you and let your heart be true:::