Somewhere in the distance a voice whispered. She knew it was Jet saying goodnight, but in her exhaustion she thought it was Spike. A little smirk tugged at her mouth, but she didn't turn to look at him because she knew she would see someone else standing in his place. She could see Spike standing in the doorway, an unlit cigarette between his lips. She could smell him. Dark and dusty and drawing her in. She swallowed thickly. A tear rolled off the side of her face. Her messy black hair was splayed over the pillow. Jet gave her a little sad smile. He looked at her and looked at her until he wasn't even seeing her anymore and then walked away.
Faye listened to the hum of the ship. Its electronic heart beat softly. It used to comfort her. Lull her into dreams. It made her believe in him, and a little in herself.
They got off, caught bad guys—bad ones, the kind who left blood under their nails and blabbed to any bloke who would listen—took a few bribes here and there, had a few drinks and got back on the ship. They felt closer to a sense of belonging the further they drifted.
All they ever knew was the ache of their skin, the sound of fading footsteps, and the stardust in their eyes. And in the blackest corners of the universe (they called home) they grew closer to each other and not just in proximity.
Her exterior was rotting and her past was a ghost she didn't want to invite into her skin. The girl she used to be was long dead. She hadn't been buried. She had no one mourning at her grave, leaving her flowers. Jet was an old man who didn't dream anymore. Seeing shapes of the future was for the young and dusty recollections of the past were for those who had something worth remembering.
They didn't talk about it. It, him…Spike. They had little flutters of civility. The other times they were fighting and not even about anything that mattered, but that was always how it was. They had to distract themselves from what they were really feeling.
What the fuck are we doing?
Do you want to leave? You should. You should go, go on get. Faye wasn't some dog he could throw stones at. She had proven she wasn't going to run off, but Jet wanted to forget her before he couldn't stand the thought of losing her. He had lost enough already.
Not before you.
This is my ship.
No. This is our ship. You can't cut me out of the decisions. Do you want to be alone, Jet? Is that what you want?
Spike had been right. Kids, animals, and women with attitudes shouldn't have been on the ship. But Ed and Ein were gone and Faye wasn't the one with the attitude. Jet was.
Faye was unrelenting and unbreakable and beautiful, in the worst way. Her matte red lipstick, her airbrushed skin, her ruby dusted cheeks. Her smile was cold, practiced and her words (every line something she had read from a book) were delivered in a whiskey induced somber.
They had a murky grayness around their hearts, dragging them down to the floor of the Bebop. They sat with their backs to the wall and they could barely breathe. These raspy, hiccupped gasps for air broke the silence. He had expected to love her. He wanted to love her. To feel something other than self-pity and doubt, but he didn't. And Jet knew she felt the same. She was just a better liar.
Faye didn't want a fairytale. Paper flowers in her hair and his arms around her for an eternity, that was an awfully long time and even in the endless black sea they would have gotten bored of each other. But they didn't get the chance to grow tired of each other. She wanted his cold silence, that bathed her in silver, and his mouth pressed against hers.
When Jet slept she laid in his shadow and the faint warmth that emitted from his body. Faye got up several times in the night to make a cup of tea or to have a cigarette. She didn't sleep. Or at least not like she used to.
Jet drew in a weighty sigh like the cigarette smoke Spike used to shroud her in. Faye always knew he saw another woman (Julia) when he was looking at her. And she was okay with that. Burrowing under her skin and kissing her eyelids, cheeks, and lips Spike saw one woman. But Jet saw everyone he had ever loved.
Spike was like static in her heart. A snowy TV screen she couldn't look away from like that video tape of a girl she didn't remember being. Faye wondered what the faded image on the TV, the girl she supposedly used to be, would think of her as she reached for another drink when she had already had enough and reeked of cigarette smoke. Her fingers wouldn't stop twitching until they held a cigarette. She didn't know why she cared when she didn't even know what she thought of her own reflection.
Faye cocked her head at him like a heron he had seen in an old book somewhere. She smiled, all pearly whites and long eyelashes. "We should get a dog."
"What would we do with a dog? Besides you hated Ein." Jet asked, putting his fork down. Shiitake mushrooms and tofu, again. He said he was trying to eat better. Lay off the red meats or some bullshit.
"I didn't hate Ein. I hated cleaning up his shit."
Jet laughed. "Swear he did that on purpose."
"A cat, we'll get a cat."
They never did get a cat.
Someplace sunny…that was the plan. They would get rid of the Bebop and go their separate ways and stop thinking Spike was going to come back.
Except they never did.