I. Memory
i get along without you very well
of course i do
It was raining again.
Faye slumped over the bar, long nails tapping idly on the stem of her martini glass. Rain slid down the grimy windows and shadows danced on her porcelain face. Sucking down the last drops of her drink, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and squeezed her eyes shut for a second. She knew she'd had enough to drink but she lifted a finger when the grizzled bartender caught her eye. Wordlessly, he placed another martini in front of her, and she thanked him with a tight-lipped grimace.
Tharsis was a dump, she thought, but this bar had become her favorite haunt ever since Spike had left. The Bebop had been docked in Tharsis's harbor for six months and neither Faye nor Jet had the heart to suggest leaving. If they left, it meant admitting that Spike was really gone.
Her life had fallen into this strange rhythm. She would sleep past noon every day in a fitful haze of nightmares. In her dreams she was always grasping for something just out of reach and working her way through complicated arguments and forgetting where she'd parked the Redtail and struggling to swim through icy water. Every time she woke up, she found herself gasping and covered in a cold sweat. She would smoke a few cigarettes and take a shower and stand numbly in the hot water until her fingers pruned up. Jet (already up for hours by the time she was dressed) would mumble a greeting to her while he clipped his bonsai and leave her plates of soggy scrambled eggs and reheated ramen on the kitchen counter. After picking apathetically at the food, she would leave the ship and wander through the city, tired and headachy and dusty, until the sun hung heavy in the sky.
Her eyes hungrily scanned every group of people she passed on the streets, in smoky cafes, skulking in alleyways. One afternoon she spotted someone just about the right height wearing a navy suit and felt her heart leap into her throat. When he turned to hail a taxi and she saw the guy's face, it wasn't him and her throat grew painfully tight.
Every evening when Faye grew weary from her hours of wandering, her feet carried her back to the same bar. The bartenders liked her because she was beautiful and quiet, and because she threw around Woolongs like water.
The bar itself wasn't bad. It had weathered wood paneling and peeling paint but it was cozy on rainy nights like tonight, Faye decided. Plus, nobody knew her and nobody asked questions. And, as much as she hated to admit it to herself, she kept returning to the place because Spike had liked this bar. Every time she walked in she imagined him sitting in various seats, wondering what he'd been drinking, who he'd been with. Lifting her gaze to the pool tables across the room, she squinted through the haze of cigarette smoke and pictured a younger Spike (wearing that leather jacket she'd seen a photo of him in) knocking back beers and shooting pool and flirting. Had he come here with Julia? Imagining the two of them together made her stomach churn with jealousy.
Tears prickled her eyes and she dug her nails into her palms. Grieving was exhausting. She didn't want to sit around and cry anymore. How embarrassing would it be if Spike could see her now? Six months later and still a wreck. A tear rolled down her cheek and she angrily dashed it away with the back of her hand, trying to guess what he would have said to her in that moment. Probably something along the lines of, Get a grip, woman. Or would he have been gentle with her, like he was near the end? She finished her fourth martini and dropped the glass on the bar with a clatter.
When Faye's head grew fuzzy and her thoughts swam together after enough alcohol, her mind always picked the same few moments to replay, over and over, until she wanted to crawl out of her skin to escape the sorrow and longing.
except when soft rains fall and drip from leaves then i recall
the thrill of being sheltered in your arms
of course i do
Night had fallen on the Bebop. Outside, the stars glowed fiercely in the Martian sky. Waves slapped against the hull of the ship. Faye lay awake in her cot staring at the ceiling and jonesing for a cigarette so badly that her skin itched. She knew Spike always had a few cartons ferreted away in his room, and that he occasionally went for midnight strolls around the ship, so there was a chance for her to slip into his room and grab a few.
Pulling on a loose white t-shirt and boxer shorts, Faye tiptoed out of her room and down the hallway. Peering through the crack in Spike's doorway, she sighed with relief to see his room empty, the blankets lying flat on his bed. She spotted the carton peeking out from under his pillow and had one leg inside the doorway when she heard footsteps behind her. Cursing to herself, she turned and saw Spike standing in front of her, looking bemused.
"And just what the hell do you think you're doing in my room?" he asked, eyebrows raised to his hairline. He wore only a pair of threadbare training pants and his bare chest glowed white in the starlight.
Faye shot him the fiercest glare she could muster.
"I'm trying to get MY cigarettes back, since you stole them from me earlier."
Spike exhaled irritably. "You think I didn't notice that you bought them with Woolongs stolen off of my money card?" He rolled his eyes. "You really are shameless."
Shit. She didn't think he'd noticed that. "Well, it was probably money that you owed me from the last bounty anyway," she replied lamely.
It wasn't true and they both knew it, but they seemed to have reached a standstill. Spike rubbed a hand distractedly across his forehead. There were dark, tender-looking shadows under his eyes, and his evergreen hair was even more disheveled than usual.
Unbidden, the urge to run her fingers through his hair rose up inside of her and she reached out her hand without thinking.
"Uh, Faye?" he asked, his voice softer.
"Huh?"
"What are you doing?"
Faye realized her hand was floating in front of her.
"I...you've...um...got something in your hair," she muttered, cheeks flushing.
He frowned. "Hmm. Probably a bit of dog food. I just had a snack," he said. "Not too bad, really...but can you get it out?" He tilted his head towards her.
Faye gently touched her fingers to his forehead, peered into his wild tangles. His body radiated warmth and she was suddenly aware of his smell of smoke and sweat and something musky and sweet. She could feel her pulse beating in her throat and swallowed hard, willing her body to relax.
"Cloves," she murmured to herself, delicately tracing the skin of his scalp. Spike shivered almost imperceptibly as she ran her fingers through his tangles. "One second...ok, got it." She pretended to pull something out of his hair and took a step back, looking away from his mismatched auburn eyes.
"Thanks. What'd you say before that?" he asked, his voice oddly husky.
"Oh, um..anyone ever tell you that you smell like cloves?" She fiddled with the hem of her shirt. He gazed at her evenly, calm in the face of her discomfort.
"Actually, yeah...I've gotten that before...not sure what it is," he said, leaning against the wall. "Hey, Faye, sorry, but I'm pretty tired. You can go ahead and have that pack of cigarettes if you're so desperate."
He ducked into his room and handed her the carton. Pausing in the doorway, he looked as if he were about to say something, but then he leaned close to her and gave her a quick, scratchy kiss on the cheek.
"Don't tell Jet about this," he said quietly. "Night, Romani."
He closed the door. Faye stayed rooted to the same spot in the hallway for several moments. She touched her cheek where he had kissed her, transfixed.
but i get along without you very well
Faye shook herself out of her reverie. The rain pattered on the bar's metal roof as the sky grew darker. She felt the bartender's eyes lingering on her but she didn't care.
Pulling her tan trench coat around her middle and smoothing her hair, she sighed and cast a mournful gaze at her empty glass, wishing for more vodka. She tried to make it back to the Bebop before too late every night because Jet worried about her when she was out. She knew he could smell the liquor on her breath every night but, to his credit, he never said a word. Besides, Faye had spotted more than a few bottles of whiskey in the bonsai room recently.
Focusing on placing one foot in front of the other, she painstakingly made her way out of the bar without stumbling and struck out in the general direction of the bay. The rain had slowed to a faint drizzle and the breeze smelled like the ocean. A few planets twinkled down on her between the clouds as she walked.
Where did people go when they died? The stars, as she knew, were filled with criminals and casinos and lonely bounty hunters. But could a soul truly vanish from the universe? She didn't want to live in a world without Spike.
There's no way he's alive, Faye told herself for the thousandth time. It was all over the news. Huge syndicate battle. Only a handful of survivors, dozens of unclaimed bodies. Although Jet had tried to conceal it from Faye, she knew that he had secretly visited every morgue in the city in an unsuccessful attempt to ID Spike.
When the names of the dead were officially announced, Faye sat glued to the television, watching the names scrolling past on the ticker, completely still and numb. But when the segment ended and she didn't see his name, a small balloon of hope swelled inside of her. It was possible. He could be out there somewhere.
She walked on, relishing the cool air against her flushed skin. Maybe tonight she would sleep soundly and without any nightmares, and maybe she would wake up tomorrow with the desire to do something, anything, again.
(more coming soon! not sure if anyone is reading or writing Bebop fanfic in the year 2017 besides me...but I'm enjoying myself so I hope you are too!)