Black Coffee ~ Songfic
I know, I know, everyone who has read Bebop fics has read one like this. Still . . . the song just fit so perfectly I had to use it . . . (no, once again, this is NOT a Faye x Spike fic, though it's userfriendly whether or not you support that couple). . . . I'm rather proud of this story . . . Feel free to post a review or send me a comment at wings28@msn.com
Rated PG for mild language and angst
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~One, one, two, one, one, two,
Move over, move over, yeah you heard what I said, move over.~
The gunshots had echoed through the corridor, loud and out of place. I never really had thought he would listen.
And, of course, he didn't.
~I feel so lonely, haven't slept a wink.
I walk the floor, and watch the door.~
Idiot. Lunkhead. I gather all the insults I can think of, so I won't be at a loss for words when he comes back. I pace the living quarters, as I have been doing all night. When he comes back . . .
I know he's not coming back.
~And in between I drink black coffee.
Love's a hand-me-down brew.~
There's a sour taste in my mouth. I don't want to think about him not coming back. So I pretend that he's going to. I pretend that he's just out on some easy-money bounty head.
In other words, I lie to myself.
~I'll never know why Sunday in this weekday room
I'm talking to the shadows, one o'clock till four,
And Lord how slow the moments go.~
I wonder if he even thought about us. How could he be expected to remember the leftovers of his humble bounty hunting crew, when compared with Julia's death and burying the syndicate once and for all? Burying. What a final sounding word. Maybe I should think of something better. After all, if I intend on waiting for him until he comes back . . .
~All I do is pour black coffee.~
. . . I'll be waiting forever.
~Since the blues caught my eye,
I'm hanging out on Monday,
but Sunday dreams too dry~
Jet interrupted my waiting, a few hours in. He asked me if I was going to sit here and mope all day. I said I wasn't moping. He smiled at me sadly and left me alone. I could see the tears in his eyes.
He knows Spike's not coming back, just like I do.
~They say a man is born to go alone*
And a woman is born to weep and fret~
I can hear him now, just barely. He's talking to his bonsai trees, I think. Pretty soon he'll go back to washing the windows, vacuuming; housework. It helps him.
I wish something could help me.
~To stay at home and drown her past regrets
In coffee and cigarettes.~
I light a cigarette and lift it to my mouth. I let it hover there until the orange embers on the end die. Then I shove it down into an ash tray and watch as the smoke drifts upwards. I wish I wasn't the only one sitting here and smoking. I wish Ed and Ein were here, because I miss them. I wish Spike was here, because I don't want to believe he's not coming back. I wish Jet would stop his damn cleaning.
I wish I wasn't alone.
~And moody all the morning, moody all night.
And in between I drink black coffee.~
If this is a punishment, what was my crime?
Wait, I know the answer. I cared about someone, more than I have in fifty years. I cared about them all! And now, they'll be dead to me. All of them. As dead as I know Spike is now.
~Black coffee.~
Bang.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* There are about a million different lyrics for this song. I'm pretty sure that this part is a'lovin, but one of the lyric sheets said alone, which I felt was more appropriate, so I sort of cheated.
Likewise, I know that the version of this song is by Tricky, but sources were unclear as to who the female voice is. The version I have says it's Bjork, so that's what I'll go with. Either way, neither this song nor the crew of the Bebop belongs to me.
This fic is a one-shot, so yes, that's the end.
I know, I know, everyone who has read Bebop fics has read one like this. Still . . . the song just fit so perfectly I had to use it . . . (no, once again, this is NOT a Faye x Spike fic, though it's userfriendly whether or not you support that couple). . . . I'm rather proud of this story . . . Feel free to post a review or send me a comment at wings28@msn.com
Rated PG for mild language and angst
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~One, one, two, one, one, two,
Move over, move over, yeah you heard what I said, move over.~
The gunshots had echoed through the corridor, loud and out of place. I never really had thought he would listen.
And, of course, he didn't.
~I feel so lonely, haven't slept a wink.
I walk the floor, and watch the door.~
Idiot. Lunkhead. I gather all the insults I can think of, so I won't be at a loss for words when he comes back. I pace the living quarters, as I have been doing all night. When he comes back . . .
I know he's not coming back.
~And in between I drink black coffee.
Love's a hand-me-down brew.~
There's a sour taste in my mouth. I don't want to think about him not coming back. So I pretend that he's going to. I pretend that he's just out on some easy-money bounty head.
In other words, I lie to myself.
~I'll never know why Sunday in this weekday room
I'm talking to the shadows, one o'clock till four,
And Lord how slow the moments go.~
I wonder if he even thought about us. How could he be expected to remember the leftovers of his humble bounty hunting crew, when compared with Julia's death and burying the syndicate once and for all? Burying. What a final sounding word. Maybe I should think of something better. After all, if I intend on waiting for him until he comes back . . .
~All I do is pour black coffee.~
. . . I'll be waiting forever.
~Since the blues caught my eye,
I'm hanging out on Monday,
but Sunday dreams too dry~
Jet interrupted my waiting, a few hours in. He asked me if I was going to sit here and mope all day. I said I wasn't moping. He smiled at me sadly and left me alone. I could see the tears in his eyes.
He knows Spike's not coming back, just like I do.
~They say a man is born to go alone*
And a woman is born to weep and fret~
I can hear him now, just barely. He's talking to his bonsai trees, I think. Pretty soon he'll go back to washing the windows, vacuuming; housework. It helps him.
I wish something could help me.
~To stay at home and drown her past regrets
In coffee and cigarettes.~
I light a cigarette and lift it to my mouth. I let it hover there until the orange embers on the end die. Then I shove it down into an ash tray and watch as the smoke drifts upwards. I wish I wasn't the only one sitting here and smoking. I wish Ed and Ein were here, because I miss them. I wish Spike was here, because I don't want to believe he's not coming back. I wish Jet would stop his damn cleaning.
I wish I wasn't alone.
~And moody all the morning, moody all night.
And in between I drink black coffee.~
If this is a punishment, what was my crime?
Wait, I know the answer. I cared about someone, more than I have in fifty years. I cared about them all! And now, they'll be dead to me. All of them. As dead as I know Spike is now.
~Black coffee.~
Bang.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
* There are about a million different lyrics for this song. I'm pretty sure that this part is a'lovin, but one of the lyric sheets said alone, which I felt was more appropriate, so I sort of cheated.
Likewise, I know that the version of this song is by Tricky, but sources were unclear as to who the female voice is. The version I have says it's Bjork, so that's what I'll go with. Either way, neither this song nor the crew of the Bebop belongs to me.
This fic is a one-shot, so yes, that's the end.