A/N: This is my first try at a Bebop fic and I'm not sure how I feel about it. Please review and give me some feedback even if it's just one word. It would really make my day. Thanks :)
The worn yellow material feels warm underneath her. She hasn't moved from her seat in hours.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Her white heeled boot repeatedly meets the floor while her fingers drum the same beat on the armrest.
Flash. Flash. Flash. Images blare from the television set, lighting up the dark room in spastic bursts.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Her heart pounds against her chest, quickening at sudden loud sounds from the television.
Snip. Snip. Snip. The sounds of Jet cutting his bonsai.
Tick. Tick. Tick. The clock runs, adding to the cacophony that echoes throughout the ship.
Bandages. Needles. Painkillers. Disinfectants. Green eyes survey the array of supplies she has neatly arranged on the table in front of her.
Eyes dart to glance at the clock. Two o'clock in the morning. Tick. Tick. Tick. She wishes it would stop. Wishes she could pause time like she can pause the television. Wishes she could stop time like time was stopped for her.
She would pause time before she had run off searching for her old life (destroyed by time). Before she had basically told Ed to leave. And definitely before…before he had left.
Fingers grasp the remote, and spin it so that it is pointing to nothing. Only to thin air.
Her finger hits rewind. Back to a time when the whole crew had been together. Even that mutt. All of them. Together.
She hits pause. And they would stay like that, and nothing would ever change.
Tick. It's half past two now. Green eyes narrow. Fingers curl into a fist. When, not if, but when that idiotic lunkhead is calling for help or crawling half-dead back into the Bebop, she will be prepared.
She will patch him up just like always, and then she will yell at him for being stupid just like always. Yell at him for worrying Jet (because she sure as hell didn't waste her time worrying). Yell at him for keeping her up, for preventing her from getting her beauty sleep.
"Sorry about that. You need all the beauty sleep you can get." She can imagine his response, almost hear his words delivered in his nonchalant, unapologetic tone.
It is only a matter of time. He will come back. She is sure of it. After all, he is basically invincible, immortal, a superhuman. A cat with infinite lives. He has to be. Or else…or else he wouldn't have survived for this long with his reckless behavior. Mad Pierrot comes to mind.
"…at the scene of the tragic massacre…" The voice cuts through her thoughts. She stares transfixed at the news report blaring from the screen.
She thinks she sees a bloodied figure in a trench coat with a fuzzy mop of green. But it's hard to see. The camera's focused on the reporter, and everything else is blurry.
She convinces herself it's just her imagination. He isn't dead. He can't die.
Tick. Tick. Tick. She doesn't know what time she drifts to sleep.
9:49 a.m. The exact time she wakes up.
"Okay. Thanks for calling. I'll be there soon." Jet's voice reaches her ears. Her faithful ears filter out his broken tone.
Lubdublubdublubdub. Her heart pounds faster. Adrenaline fills her body. She is instantly awake. Her body springs off the couch. She has been waiting for this. She is ready.
"Faye!" Jet's voice is urgent and still broken. "That was ISSP. They found Spike's body. They want me to ide−"
"They found Spike! Finally! Come on Jet! Let's go see that idiot and bring him back home!" Her words cut off Jet's. She only hears what she wants to, what she imagines to.
"Faye! Wait, FAYE!"
But she is gone. Running with joy and relief and excitement. Running like she ran to her old house. Running to Spike. Running towards a fantasy.
Jet trudges mournfully after her towards the hangar.
Is this worth continuing? Any and all comments welcome.
