At first, it was the little things that kept Faye awake. The tick of the wall clock in the hallway, the faint drip of a leaky pipe somewhere in the ceiling or the groan of the metal grinding as the Bebop sailed on autopilot towards their next destination. It was a mild irritation and funnily enough, it was the little things that made her predicament so damned obvious.
It was too quiet on the ship and the silence was deafening.
Kicking the covers off Faye climbed out of bed and padded bare footed towards a pile of clothes that had been laundered and folded neatly and placed on a space on her dresser. Carefully Faye put on an oversized T-shirt that once belonged to a friend and breathed in deeply, bunching the material under her nose. His scent was slowly fading away; Faye's very being enveloping the reminiscences of Spike's essence.
The fact saddened the woman considerably. Faye wasn't accustomed to her emotions in constant turmoil. Her head said she was being ridiculous, suck it up and stop being such a big, blubbering baby. But her heart pounded with sorrow and despair, and each time she felt the heavy burden of Spike's death fade into the back of her mind it would suddenly slam back making the woman feel like a total wreck all over again. Faye struggled to pull the metaphorical tower back together again. Faye wished she hadn't met Spike.
Her gaze was half lidded and her ears stained for any sign of life aboard the once crowded residence. Faye exited her room, absently rubbing the cotton fabric of the shirt gently between her thumb and finger as she shuffled down the corridor. The thump of her feet against the metal flooring was loud and lonely. It was sad to think that the Bebop that was once alight with barely contained energy was left with heavy silences for company.
In happier times she would have bumped into Radical Ed by now, in deep slumber with her long limbs at odd angles. The mutt would have been Ed's pillow and alert the moment a person entered his perimeter, woofing a quiet bark of greeting. And somehow or rather Edward would have sleep rolled her way into Faye's bedroom to crash at the foot of the bed, the blankets draping on the young girl haphazardly. Faye would wake up to that every morning and smile faintly before blowing her top simply because she could. Spike would've yelled from the sofa about the three things he especially hates.
"Pets, kids and women with attitude." Faye repeated to herself, half smiling.
Faye passed Jet's bedroom and sighed. He wasn't snoring anymore. He never did. It was like he was on constant edge calling in with his contacts on any news about the Red Dragon Syndicate. Gone are the days when Jet would dish out father-like advice or sit quietly with his bonsai trees, shaping and trimming his green friends. His cooking had taken a drastic fall. Jet couldn't taste anymore. Faye sometimes wondered about his mental state – he was convinced that Spike would turn up again, park himself on the sofa and crack open a beer as if nothing had taken place to shatter their fragile world.
The automatic door hissed open and Faye trained her eyes on the dirty yellow couch, where Spike used to sleep. The stillness of the dark cast an ominous shadow on the brightly colored piece of furniture, a gloomy contrast to the many fond memories she had of the place. Lots of things happened there on that couch.
Friendly banter.
Drinking.
Smoking.
Fighting.
Big Shot.
Heated arguments.
A sense of belonging.
Faye reluctantly made her way down the steps, her eyes never leaving that seat as she drew closer and closer. She imagined a bottle of Jack under the coffee table, Spike's clothes on the back of the couch and a dirty plate balanced on top of his stomach. She could see that lazy assed lunkhead sprawled out comfortably, remote in hand as he stared blankly at the monitor, his eyes glazed blankly. Then he would say something smart assed and be on the receiving end of another assault from Faye.
Faye gingerly sat down, breathing in and out slowly, keeping herself under control. With deliberate movements Faye tucked her feet under herself and ran a shaky hand over the worn cushions, remembering and reliving the moments she shared with Spike.
She didn't know how long it was that she sat there, thinking quiet thoughts. But Jet had come out too, a blanket pulled tightly around his shoulders. He took one look at the once fiery, money loving, gambling fool of a woman and sighed. He shuffled slowly towards her, careful not to startle Faye. Jet sat down beside the woman and grunted, arranging the blanket so that he could share. Faye sniffed in response and rubbed her nose, not even bothering to cover up her blotchy face. Jet had seen her too many times for her to care anymore.
"Faye?"
"Hmm?"
"It feels like he's still here, you know?"
Faye nodded dumbly, tucking her feet under the blanket. Her foot brushed against Jet's leg, and the touch of another miserable person was welcoming.
"And Spike would be pissed off if he knew we were being a pair of idiots," Jet continued, laying a comforting hand on her foot. "So, we are gonna get up, move on and remember that asshole the way he wanted us to - an impulsive idiot with shit for brains."
Jet was trembling, and even though he said the words aloud he couldn't bring himself to believe them. Not yet anyway.
"I miss him Jet."
"Me too."
And with that Faye rested her head on Jet's shoulder and the two of them spent the rest of the evening in silence, remembering their friend and comrade who died a terrible and horrific death.