Rabbit Holes and Mad Hatters
There was something missing, something instrumental in order to complete the picture and for his life he couldn't pinpoint what was in absence. Spike's brow furrowed as he leaned forward a bit, his chin cupped in the palm of his right hand and his elbow resting on his knee, his murky mahogany eyes narrowed in thought as he stared off at nothing in particular. "It just isn't right. Something's off." He muttered absently, fingers drumming lightly against his cheek. "What is it …" He cursed beneath his breath and threw himself back against the couch, dropping both arms to his side to glare at the unoffending tabletop.
The Bebop was silent, or as close to quiet as it would ever get, Edward and Ein both absent from the den room, probably asleep in the spinning hallway or wholly absorbed in her computer, the potato or cucumber or something. The tomato, that was it, she'd named the thing after a fruit. Well, it was just like Ed to have done that, part of her strange charm and he found himself smiling involuntarily while thinking about the latest hijinks of the hyperactive thirteen-year-old. Not even he would have risked replacing Faye's facial mask cream with mulched pistachio pudding, although he had laughed until there were tears standing in his eyes when Faye had barged, furious, from her room with the greenish goop dripping from her face. Funny how she hadn't noticed it sooner really, say before she had applied the substance to her face. But now Faye was out on the town, most likely at the Suerte casino. She was just throwing away her money really, she lost more than she would ever win and Jet couldn't understand why she did that, though Spike was beginning to think he understood.
If she truly wanted to, Faye could easily make a fortune with her trick dice, anklet, and her natural luck. Sure, she wasn't as adept as he with the sleight-of-hand tricks but she had some talent in snitching things that weren't rightly hers. It was more for the thrill of slipping past the law, doing something on the shady side, succeeding in being bad where others had failed. And then, when she did allow herself to slip up, there was the rush of a chase, the danger and the possibility of meaningful repercussions. Or at least, that was how it was with him. Most of the time, he only allowed people to catch him making a mistake when he wanted them to, or those few times when he genuinely messed up. Few times, hah. He could really make himself laugh sometimes.
Jet was good for chuckles. He'd been with the older man for over three years and still they didn't know all that much about each other. It had been an unspoken rule when they'd first partnered up in the bounty hunting business that a person's past was their own and not something that everyone needed to know, and so there were usually no questions asked. It was a nice, easy sort of thing, letting them work well together on nabbing bounty heads and still allowing for a great deal of privacy. There were times when he would piss the Black Dog off though, and there were times when Jet started to become a bit overbearing and so they'd each step back and let things simmer down before talking again. Once, they'd gone for three whole months without speaking a word to each other, and a few times, they'd had to team up despite grievances on both sides to stay alive.
It was all part of a partnership, learning how to work with the other to get the means accomplished quickly and as easily as possible, and in being partners, they could scarcely help but become friends. Jet was a man of logic, a man of deep humor that usually went above everyone else's head while Spike himself and Faye tended to be more insulting in their jokes. Jet Black, one arm of flesh and one of metal, practical and generally sure of himself, whereas Spike preferred to jump headlong into dangerous situations, flying by the seat of his pants. Life isn't worth living unless it has thrills and spills, after all. When all is said and done, no one can ever be really certain of who won in the game or not, but hey, whatever happens, happens.
It was a somewhat fatalistic creed but it fit his life well. Bell peppers and beef had never been at the top of his list for favorite meals, not only because there was never any beef in the dish, but because there wasn't enough spice to satisfy him. Danger was a spice to life, the chance that death could drag you under when you felt most alive, it was ecstasy. When he pulled his death-defying stunts he almost felt as if he could break free of the dream, like he could wake up and be free of his haunting past, the trouble that followed him doggedly, and the bad luck that negated his good karma. Spike's lips quirked into a wry grin at the thought. He was an oxymoron, a contradiction to himself, it felt good being exactly what others thought he was and exactly opposite at the same time. It was good to be alive, or to at least be making it well enough that it felt like life.
"Ah, the life of a Mad Hatter, now that's the life for me!" He exclaimed jubilantly, laughing at himself for a moment. "It seems like it's been forever since I've really laughed, since I've really cried, since I've really been alive. I wonder whether I'm dreaming now or if this is all some strange journey through the wonderland at the end of the rabbit hole."
"Rarely do you ramble, kid," A familiar gruff voice muttered as Jet stepped into the den room. "You're either drunk, severely sleep-deprived, or you've got too much time on your hands. Which is it, Spike-o?"
Spike snorted and buried his face in his hands, peeking at the ceiling through splayed fingers. "My alcohol is currently MIA, so that takes 'drunk' out of the options. I think though that my condition at the moment was brought on by the latter. I've got too much shit spinning through my head all the time, I should never be allowed to sit in one place for any real length of time to think."
"Well, you're not usually as abnormal when you talk to yourself inside your own head, you know." Jet replied.
"I'm not usually this abnormal at all."
Jet conceded the point with a nod and made a sound of laughter deep in his throat when Spike yawned hugely. "Waiting up for the woman?"
Spike made a funny face at that. "What for? She's a big girl, she can take care of herself. She managed to keep herself in one piece until she crashed our place, she's fine on her own."
"If that's true, why are you always yelling at her?" Jet asked.
"She can take care of herself, not others, and not bounties. She gets in the way on bounties more often than not. Though …" He paused and let his head drop back to the couch. "I must admit to being grateful at times for her presence. But not very often!"
"Tomboys …" Jet began slowly, watching his younger partner with a humorous glean in his eye.
"Rugrats and beasts." Spike finished with a faux note of sarcastic anger in his voice. "God hates me. It's fairly obvious. She just likes toying with me, making me think I'm about to die one moment and pulling me back to life the next."
Jet raised a brow. "God is a female?"
"Of course, Jet. Who else could be so cruel to us? Men live by a code of honor, so you yourself said, life has nothing to do with being fair or honorable, and the same is true for women."
"Watch the company when you say that," Jet advised ambiguously.
Spike frowned and smiled at length. "You're right I wouldn't want to say that anywhere near Faye's hearing range, now would I? She'd probably do worse than smack me with a pillow for sure."
"Oh, I think you're right …" A new voice agreed sweetly, too sweetly.
Spike made a pained face as Faye's hand smacked the back of his head hard. The lean bounty hunter shot to his feet and turned about, rubbing the back of his head with a hand while facing Faye's glower. "Now, Faye, you know that doesn't apply to all women …" Spike said quickly, "Just most women. Especially you." He paused and smiled. "That's what we need, one of those bobble head dogs. The toys, perfect!"
Faye's right eyebrow twitched as she stared at Spike in confusion for a moment and then, remembering the insult, gave a screech and tore off after the fleeing young man, her angry words echoing off the walls and Spike's taunts nearly drowning in the raucous. Jet laughed and shook his head slowly, gaze straying to one of the entrances to the den room where Ed stood blearily rubbing her eyes, Ein tucked underneath her arm. The hacker-child smiled at him sleepily and dropped to the floor a moment later, snoring loudly.
"I may never understand women," Jet murmured thoughtfully as he went to Edward and hoisted the snoozing girl into his arms, "but I at least know enough to stay on their good graces most of the time." And the noise of the feuding pair reached his ears even from the goodly distance they were from the den room as Jet settled Ed and Ein onto the couch before calling it a night and retreating to the safety of his own room, a faint menagerie of cursing lulling him into sleep.
Well, this little blurb of the mind seems fairly pointless. It's just a typical day aboard the Bebop as you can all tell, though Spike seems a bit OOC. It wasn't intentional, I promise! He just sort of came out that way in this particular mini-tale, and I apologize for the shortness of this. Oh, and 'Suerte' means 'luck' in Spanish, like 'bueno suerte' means good luck. It's sort of a pun on the casino thing, get it? Luck, for a casino name? *forced laughter* Mmm, anyway, for those of you reading the 'Okay …3, 2, 1 …Let's Jam!' story, I'm happy to report that the third chapter/session will be finished soon. Unfortunately, well …actually, I'll leave the bad news until the author's notes at the end of that one, because I wouldn't want to give anything away! Until next time, my minions …wha ha ha …er,
Hugs, kisses and sweet *day*dreams ~ Aldrean Treu Peri, Neo-Moon Guardian ~
See you, Space Cowboy!