Elflord: Alright, alright don't rub it in. Don't own Bebop. Don't own Faye.
Don't own Spike. Don't own Ed. Don't own Julia. Don't own Jet. Don't own
Vicious. Only own the ones I made up. Don't rub it in.
A/N: As in all my fics, my stories never follow the plotline. These ideas are my own extensions/ explanations of the show, and though they are based
on the show, they of course will not follow them directly.
Silk on Steel
Chapter One: Sanity Erasing
The alarm buzzed with that annoying brangle that jolted her from her dream. Wearily, she slammed the "off" button, grumbling as she disentangled herself from her literal cocoon of blankets. She could almost break the damn clock. It was such a wonderful dream, and she never got bored of it. . .
. . . Her, in his arms. Those arms that she had longed after for so long. Arms that she would never leave for the rest of her life, in heaven or hell. Wrapped around her waist, like she was the only woman in all of existence. Eyes . . . ill-matched eyes; one, full of compassion and truth, no matter how ugly that truth may be, accepting of pain and sorrow, the true window to his soul; the other, cold, metal, full of denial, a mask, that cold exterior he wielded like a shield to protect himself from all that he'd been through, all that tried to penetrate, all that could make him feel. That crazy, mop-flop hair that stuck in every direction, constantly unruly and untamable by comb or gel, those locks that had so gotten on her nerves but at the same time attracted her so, that annoying part of him that was also his charm. That long, arched neck, leaning in over her. His hand tightening around the small of her back, tilting her backwards, that elongated characteristic to his figure becoming so prominent. His lips groping over hers. Her own lips becoming firm under his. That kiss . . . one kiss that could last forever. . .
The dream would always end just there. A kiss . . . a kiss she'd been longing for all of her life. But now it was all futility. Spike Spiegel would never love again.
He could never love anyone but her. Her . . . that one thing he'd lost and had never stopped searching for until it was too late. And now it was all done. Life was gone for his life.
And that went for her now, too.
Six days. That's how long it had been since that terrible day. That night that the sunlight came to his eyes, and then just as fast, was ripped away. When that monster, that one that had caused him such pain, slipped out of the darkness in a fiery blaze, and then, stepping back into those shadows in which he dwelled, disappeared once again. A day that would be the end of the Spike Spiegel of the past. The day "she" died. And the day he died.
That's how long it'd been since Spike had been out of his room. Most times, he refused to speak, and on the few rare occasions that he did, it would be a few short words. Faye had seen him two times in the last six days. Each time she saw him, he looked visibly thinner and paler. That brightness in his eyes she used to envy so was empty. Both times, he wouldn't look at her, wouldn't acknowledge her presence at all. She was too afraid to say anything. Afraid that the words inside herself weren't good enough for him and would only make everything worse. Afraid that she had been selfish, thinking she had the right to love him.
Maybe afraid that he wouldn't love her back. Or maybe she was afraid he would.
He'd been eating a little, or so they thought. At least it appeared so when Jet crept in to pick up the dishes every morning. He didn't wanna eat too much, so they adjusted portions. They couldn't expect much more for right now. The bright side was he was doing stuff. The worst thing in the world at a time like this would be to be lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. Even the sound of porn rewinding back and forth at one o'clock in the morning coming from his room was a good sign. Once in a while, he'd get up and train some more, but not nearly like he used to. Sometimes, he'd read or work on the computer. A couple times a day, he'd be in a meditative state, eyes closed, sitting bare to the waist on the floor, his back to door.
"Faye!" her thoughts were suddenly burst open by the voice of Jet shouting across the Bebop. "Faye, you have to get up right now!"
"What is it?" she yawned angrily, pulling off her pajamas and pulling on her clothes, then taking a few swipes through her luscious violet hair before pulling it back in a very sloppy ponytail. Most times, she took a long time on her appearance, but the last few days, she just didn't see the point.
"Ed, that's what!" the voice of the disgruntled thirty-something former cop growled. "Put a move on it, would ya?"
"What's she done now?"
"You ain't gonna believe this," Jet suddenly burst into her room. "Look at this!" he brandished a note at her. She snatched it out of his hand, rubbing her eyes and grumbling. She could just make out the thirteen- year-cold's messy scrawl:
"Ed leave. She go find Dad. He maybe on Earth, maybe somewhere else. Ed no know. She find somewhere. Jet-man, Faye-faye, and Spiky-dude no worry. Ed take care herself. Don't come look. Bye-eyes.
Luv,
Ed + Ein ."
"Aww, man!" Faye exclaimed. "I mean, I'm prouda the girl, but she's such a pain."
"No kidding," Jet groaned. "Well, c'mon!" he grabbed her roughly by the wrist. "We gotta catch up with 'em before they get too-"
"Hold up!" she cried, pulling her arm away. "Am I mistaken, or did I just hear the word 'we'?"
"Faye, for once in your life, can't you just be cooperative?"
"Not if it means chasing after those two."
"Alright," Jet threw his hands in the air. "I don't care. I give. But if you're not coming, you gotta baby-sit," he motioned toward the closed door of Spike's room. "And believe me, he ain't no piece a pie."
"I can handle it," she growled, taking a few more swipes through her hair, which seemed to be fighting her.
"Whatever you say," he started off towards the docking bay. "But remember . . . give him some space . . ."
A few seconds passed, and she heard the doors slam, and about a minute later, she heard the roar of engines as he took off.
"Sure . . . space," she groaned sarcastically. "Space case, if you ask me."
Silence. Faye suddenly realized that the Bebop had never been so quiet before. No sounds of Ed, running around on another one of her escapades. No sounds of Jet, typing away grumpily, getting directions for the nearest bounty. She'd even be happy to hear a cheerful bark by Ein. But now there was nothing at all. And for the first time in the last six days, she wished he'd come outta there, even just to see him for one second.
She went up to the door and knocked softly. No answer.
"Spike?" she called softly, almost a whisper.
"Go away," his voice called from within.
"Yeah . . . sure," she answered, walking away.
"He just needs space," she tried to lie to herself. "He'll be just fine. I don't know why I care, anyway. It's not like he means anything to me."
But deep down inside, she knew that was a lie.
He'd meant something ever since the day she'd met him. Sure, back then, he annoyed the hell out of her, but slowly but surely, Spike had a way of growing on anybody. Maybe it was just that little boyish charm. Maybe it was that brooding way he had and yet somehow was still able to remain carefree. Maybe it was that misery loves company. Spike had had plenty of that in his life.
And then again, so had she.
She started to run a shower for herself, tearing off her clothes and untying her hair. The warm water falling against her naked skin had always been an interesting sensation for her. It felt like a different sort of rain, a rain sent from a different heaven. Liquid lavender soap turned to fragrant suds, washing over her body. The perfect shower, she thought to herself. Just one thing missing . . . she turned off the water before she even got to washing her hair. Whatever happened, she didn't wanna think that way.
That kind of thinking got her in trouble.
Drying off and redressing, she decided that she wouldn't bother him anymore.
"He isn't worth my time, anyway. I could have way better than him."
And somehow, deep down, even she knew it was a lie.
A/N: As in all my fics, my stories never follow the plotline. These ideas are my own extensions/ explanations of the show, and though they are based
on the show, they of course will not follow them directly.
Silk on Steel
Chapter One: Sanity Erasing
The alarm buzzed with that annoying brangle that jolted her from her dream. Wearily, she slammed the "off" button, grumbling as she disentangled herself from her literal cocoon of blankets. She could almost break the damn clock. It was such a wonderful dream, and she never got bored of it. . .
. . . Her, in his arms. Those arms that she had longed after for so long. Arms that she would never leave for the rest of her life, in heaven or hell. Wrapped around her waist, like she was the only woman in all of existence. Eyes . . . ill-matched eyes; one, full of compassion and truth, no matter how ugly that truth may be, accepting of pain and sorrow, the true window to his soul; the other, cold, metal, full of denial, a mask, that cold exterior he wielded like a shield to protect himself from all that he'd been through, all that tried to penetrate, all that could make him feel. That crazy, mop-flop hair that stuck in every direction, constantly unruly and untamable by comb or gel, those locks that had so gotten on her nerves but at the same time attracted her so, that annoying part of him that was also his charm. That long, arched neck, leaning in over her. His hand tightening around the small of her back, tilting her backwards, that elongated characteristic to his figure becoming so prominent. His lips groping over hers. Her own lips becoming firm under his. That kiss . . . one kiss that could last forever. . .
The dream would always end just there. A kiss . . . a kiss she'd been longing for all of her life. But now it was all futility. Spike Spiegel would never love again.
He could never love anyone but her. Her . . . that one thing he'd lost and had never stopped searching for until it was too late. And now it was all done. Life was gone for his life.
And that went for her now, too.
Six days. That's how long it had been since that terrible day. That night that the sunlight came to his eyes, and then just as fast, was ripped away. When that monster, that one that had caused him such pain, slipped out of the darkness in a fiery blaze, and then, stepping back into those shadows in which he dwelled, disappeared once again. A day that would be the end of the Spike Spiegel of the past. The day "she" died. And the day he died.
That's how long it'd been since Spike had been out of his room. Most times, he refused to speak, and on the few rare occasions that he did, it would be a few short words. Faye had seen him two times in the last six days. Each time she saw him, he looked visibly thinner and paler. That brightness in his eyes she used to envy so was empty. Both times, he wouldn't look at her, wouldn't acknowledge her presence at all. She was too afraid to say anything. Afraid that the words inside herself weren't good enough for him and would only make everything worse. Afraid that she had been selfish, thinking she had the right to love him.
Maybe afraid that he wouldn't love her back. Or maybe she was afraid he would.
He'd been eating a little, or so they thought. At least it appeared so when Jet crept in to pick up the dishes every morning. He didn't wanna eat too much, so they adjusted portions. They couldn't expect much more for right now. The bright side was he was doing stuff. The worst thing in the world at a time like this would be to be lying on the bed staring at the ceiling. Even the sound of porn rewinding back and forth at one o'clock in the morning coming from his room was a good sign. Once in a while, he'd get up and train some more, but not nearly like he used to. Sometimes, he'd read or work on the computer. A couple times a day, he'd be in a meditative state, eyes closed, sitting bare to the waist on the floor, his back to door.
"Faye!" her thoughts were suddenly burst open by the voice of Jet shouting across the Bebop. "Faye, you have to get up right now!"
"What is it?" she yawned angrily, pulling off her pajamas and pulling on her clothes, then taking a few swipes through her luscious violet hair before pulling it back in a very sloppy ponytail. Most times, she took a long time on her appearance, but the last few days, she just didn't see the point.
"Ed, that's what!" the voice of the disgruntled thirty-something former cop growled. "Put a move on it, would ya?"
"What's she done now?"
"You ain't gonna believe this," Jet suddenly burst into her room. "Look at this!" he brandished a note at her. She snatched it out of his hand, rubbing her eyes and grumbling. She could just make out the thirteen- year-cold's messy scrawl:
"Ed leave. She go find Dad. He maybe on Earth, maybe somewhere else. Ed no know. She find somewhere. Jet-man, Faye-faye, and Spiky-dude no worry. Ed take care herself. Don't come look. Bye-eyes.
Luv,
Ed + Ein ."
"Aww, man!" Faye exclaimed. "I mean, I'm prouda the girl, but she's such a pain."
"No kidding," Jet groaned. "Well, c'mon!" he grabbed her roughly by the wrist. "We gotta catch up with 'em before they get too-"
"Hold up!" she cried, pulling her arm away. "Am I mistaken, or did I just hear the word 'we'?"
"Faye, for once in your life, can't you just be cooperative?"
"Not if it means chasing after those two."
"Alright," Jet threw his hands in the air. "I don't care. I give. But if you're not coming, you gotta baby-sit," he motioned toward the closed door of Spike's room. "And believe me, he ain't no piece a pie."
"I can handle it," she growled, taking a few more swipes through her hair, which seemed to be fighting her.
"Whatever you say," he started off towards the docking bay. "But remember . . . give him some space . . ."
A few seconds passed, and she heard the doors slam, and about a minute later, she heard the roar of engines as he took off.
"Sure . . . space," she groaned sarcastically. "Space case, if you ask me."
Silence. Faye suddenly realized that the Bebop had never been so quiet before. No sounds of Ed, running around on another one of her escapades. No sounds of Jet, typing away grumpily, getting directions for the nearest bounty. She'd even be happy to hear a cheerful bark by Ein. But now there was nothing at all. And for the first time in the last six days, she wished he'd come outta there, even just to see him for one second.
She went up to the door and knocked softly. No answer.
"Spike?" she called softly, almost a whisper.
"Go away," his voice called from within.
"Yeah . . . sure," she answered, walking away.
"He just needs space," she tried to lie to herself. "He'll be just fine. I don't know why I care, anyway. It's not like he means anything to me."
But deep down inside, she knew that was a lie.
He'd meant something ever since the day she'd met him. Sure, back then, he annoyed the hell out of her, but slowly but surely, Spike had a way of growing on anybody. Maybe it was just that little boyish charm. Maybe it was that brooding way he had and yet somehow was still able to remain carefree. Maybe it was that misery loves company. Spike had had plenty of that in his life.
And then again, so had she.
She started to run a shower for herself, tearing off her clothes and untying her hair. The warm water falling against her naked skin had always been an interesting sensation for her. It felt like a different sort of rain, a rain sent from a different heaven. Liquid lavender soap turned to fragrant suds, washing over her body. The perfect shower, she thought to herself. Just one thing missing . . . she turned off the water before she even got to washing her hair. Whatever happened, she didn't wanna think that way.
That kind of thinking got her in trouble.
Drying off and redressing, she decided that she wouldn't bother him anymore.
"He isn't worth my time, anyway. I could have way better than him."
And somehow, deep down, even she knew it was a lie.