What A Friend
Disclaimer: Not my show, not my characters; my story.
This takes place immediately after the last episode, so of course there are spoilers.-Neg
Chapter One: Needless Pain
"You shouldn't be alone right now, Faye," he said. He even sounded like he cared, his voice uncharacteristically soft, almost fooling her for a moment. She hadn't turned on the viewscreen, and now she was glad he couldn't see how he hurt her. How her face twisted when she realized he really didn't get it. He had no idea what she really needed right now. She needed a friend.
"Hmmm" she replied, not trusting her voice. Why did I even call? You'd already heard. You didn't need me to tell you. I just wanted to say it out loud. I wanted you to care.
"Why don't you call up one of your girlfriends," he suggested. Like she had any. It was almost too much. Hadn't anyone noticed that she had no other friends? Maybe she was the one that was blind. She had thought they were her friends; and now they were all gone. Even you, Jet. You left me too, you bastard!
"Faye? Are you still there?" Of course I'm still here! Right where you all left me! Even Ed and that smelly dog bailed. Then Spike. Now you.
"Where are you?" she asked, carefully controlling her voice. Are you alone too? You could be here. You could ask me to join you. Then we wouldn't be alone anymore.
"I'm in Tharsis. With Bob. You know, my ISSP contact. We're out with some other ISSP guys," Jet paused, then lowered his voice, " I wanted to hear more about what exactly happened." Wanted to get drunk with all your buddies is more like it. Sure, go get sloshed with them. They didn't even know him, dammit! What about me?
"Faye? Faye, are you all right?"
"Yeah," she squeaked finally, flinching at the pathetic sound.
"You really should call someone, okay?" Jet was saying when Faye unceremoniously mashed the disconnect button. She took a big breath, then screamed at the top of her lungs, "I DID call someone you son-of-a-bitch!"
She wanted to cry again, but there were no tears left. She'd spent them all on that lunkhead Spike, never dreaming that she should save some for another desertion. Finally she got up and wandered into the lounge. She knew she was being silly. She should have just asked him to come back. It wouldn't have been very hard. There were plenty of excuses to use, but she hadn't wanted to trick him. She could have just asked outright she supposed, but she'd wanted him to just want to come. Shouldn't Spike's friends be together to remember him? Faye slouched on the sofa and stared morosely at the windows. "I am such an idiot," she said to herself out loud.
How ironic that I'm the only one left here on the Bebop. I could take it if I knew how to fly the damn thing. I could hack the ship's system if I knew how to use a computer for more than tuning in Big Shot. I could fix up something to eat, if I knew how to cook. Faye's stomach rumbled now, reminding her that she really could use something to eat. She didn't feel like making the effort though, and there probably wasn't anything around anyway. She went back to bed instead.
Jet thunked his mug down on the rickety table with more force than was necessary, but no one noticed. The conversation had lapsed into department politics and gossip. Tempers were starting to flare under the influence of the alcohol and the lateness of the hour. Why did I want to do this?
At first Bob had been suitably sympathetic, helping him find out more about the circumstances of Spike's death. There wasn't much, but some of the officers that had been on the scene gave him more details. They were respectful and let Jet talk some about Spike and what he was trying to do there. It was important to Jet that they didn't just think it was some vendetta. There was a lot at stake and Spike had acted honorably, trying to do the right thing. After a little while though, they drifted off one by one to the bar for another round. They weren't really that interested in the death of some cowboy, no matter how spectacular it had been. They don't want to listen. They just don't get it. Jet shook his head, staring at the tabletop.
Jet wondered what Faye was doing. Probably gambling, what else? He pushed that bitter thought aside. She had sounded so strange when he was talking to her earlier. Almost, she had sounded womanly. Faye was normally so hard and brittle. In spite of dressing to accentuate her outward femininity, she was not feminine at all in her behavior. Spike had commented on that often, derisively calling her a tomboy. When she had called, she had kept the viewscreen off, and her voice had been hesitant and soft when she said his name. It had called up every old-fashioned, protective instinct he had. He'd wanted to rush back to the Bebop right then and snatch her up and...Jet pushed that thought aside too.
He figured she had been crying, of course she would have cried. Even he had at first. He'd wanted to do something for her, but what was there to do for a woman like Faye? She never wanted help. She was totally self-absorbed, self-reliant, self-controlled... Okay, not self-controlled. Jet chuckled a little at the absurdity of that, then stopped abruptly as another, horrific thought occured to him. What if she does something, something rash? He thought about Faye and her moods. How mercurial they were, swinging wildly from one moment to the next. Would she try to...? Nah, she's fine. She always lands on her feet. He tried to console himself with that, but something was still bothering his conscience.
Jet glanced around the tables again, noting that the crowd was thinning and those left were getting quieter. He stared into the empty beer mug and hoped Faye had taken his advice. It was standard advice that every cop gave to family members of victims. Get some family and friends around you, talk about it, let them help you with the day to day things, eat something, you need your rest, blah, blah. Back then he'd thought of it as just psychobabble. He himself had always dealt with things by being alone. Not that he really wanted to be alone, but he just always found himself alone in those bad times it seemed.
Now he was alone again, realizing suddenly that Bob had left the bar without even saying goodbye. Some friend HE was! Suddenly he smacked himself on the forehead. "IDIOT!" he said out loud, startling a waitress who was trying to clear the tables. Jet shoved his chair back and stood, forgetting about his injured leg. He stumbled and knocked the chair over before catching his balance again.Tossing some money carelessly on the table, he picked up his crutches and headed puposefully out the door into the early morning.