Disclaimer: As always, Cowboy Bebop is the property of Sunrise, Inc. This is the third installment of "A Tale of Two Cowboys". My apologies to anyone who thought my versions of Spike and Faye might be a little out of character. I hope to clear up any inconsistencies with this chapter. And now, without further ado, I present chapter 3: All Fall down.
All Fall Down(The next morning)
Faye hadn't slept well. After Spike's almost casual dismissal hours before, she hadn't closed her eyes in sleep once. The stars shining outside her window had been counted and wished on numerous times over the hours, yet still managed to twinkle merrily from their far-away homes. Digging in her dresser, Faye found a small pocket mirror after several minutes of muttered curses. Dusting it off, she glanced in it, frowning in spite of herself. It revealed her rumpled clothes, dull hair, and the effects a night of crying had on her face. No amount of makeup is going to clear this up. She thought to herself, and managed to smirk a little at her reflection.
Unfortunately, the image smirking back at her was a pale imitation of her normal self. Faye's emerald eyes were now bloodshot, and the rest of her face was still blotchy from the countless tears that had fallen. Sighing, she set to work covering up what she could with powder and a fresh coat of lipstick, hoping that a small makeover would do wonders.
No such luck. The small voice in her head piped up half an hour later. Despite a change of clothes and makeup thick enough to use as a protective shield, Faye still felt like the miserable animal that had come crawling back here hours ago, heartsick and sobbing. She shook her head. Jet and Ed would most likely notice the difference immediately, and start to ask questions, the kind that she didn't even want to think about.
And Spike. Would he notice? Faye plopped back down on her mattress. Did it matter, really? He had made it quite clear last night what he thought of her. But his face…it had just about ripped her in two to see him like that. The old Faye Valentine, femme fatale, poker extraordinaire, wouldn't have cared in the least. He was just another pathetic baby, right? Why did her poker face fall so easily around him then? When did I change? Faye asked herself.
There was a sudden knock at the door, and she almost jumped to a standing position. "Faye, you going to be in there all day? If you want food, its on now." Jet's low voice rumbled at her. Faye shook her head. Realizing he couldn't see her, she managed a quiet, "I'll be right there." She stood up, rubbing her suddenly sweaty hands on the sides of her shorts. "Are you alright?" Jet's voice inquired from the other side of the door. He won't be so nice when he realizes just about all of his precious beer supply is gone. She thought, and that really made her smile.
Before she could change her mind, Faye pulled open the door and grinned up at a bewildered-looking Jet Black. "I'm fine." She purred. Jet nodded, and clomped down the hall to the Bebop's pathetic excuse for a kitchen. Faye could hear silverware rattling and the murmur of voices as she slowly made her way down the narrow corridor. As she passed the closed door of Spike's room, an insane hope that he might still be sleeping hit her. She could avoid him the rest of the trip to Venus, and throw herself into the hunt for their next bounty.
A nice thought, but it would never work. The Bebop was simply too small to avoid him for long. Maybe she could take off again, this time for good. No more insane bounties that almost always got her killed, and no fuzzy-haired cowboy to send her send her heart spinning into a dozen pieces. All she had to do was-Faye stopped at the entrance to the kitchen. It was almost a family setting, with Ed trying to type, eat and do handstands at the same time while Ein humbly tried to beg for a few scraps of her bacon. Jet stood in front of the tiny stove, idly stirring something greenish in a pan and shaking his head at the girl, and Spike…
Well, Spike looked about as good as she felt. He sat slightly isolated from the others, wearing only a white t-shirt and pale blue boxer shorts. He poked uncaringly at the egg on his plate as a cigarette sat smoldering in the nearby ashtray. Swallowing hard, Faye forced her feet to carry her into the kitchen before anyone noticed her long pause at the doorway. She became aware that Jet was saying something to her, but in the mental fog that had just rolled in, she was only able to follow his gesture to sit down at the tiny table.
As luck would have it, the only chair was directly across from Spike. Faye settled herself in it, hoping her movement hadn't distracted Spike from his contemplation of the yellow egg yolk, which stared up at him unseeing. "Faye-Faye!" She looked up, realizing Ed was poking her sunny face right in front of her, and jerked back a little. "What is it Ed?" She asked, hoping her voice didn't sound as tired as it sounded to her own ears.
Ed paused, and then started a long, probably interesting lecture on something about some article in the news talking about cryo-sleep. When she mentioned memory restoration, Faye perked up in spite of herself. She tried to understand Ed's excited chatter around the headache that was forming above her eyes. The young girl was talking about some kind of treatment for patients of cryo-sleep who had lost all, or certain parts of their memories.
The only downside was that the treatments were radically expensive; requiring close to half a million woolongs per session. Faye's rising hope was crushed when Ed rattled off the price. I'm a 70-something bounty hunter with a mile-long hospital bill already. She thought glumly. Thanking Ed for the information, Faye glanced across the table at Spike.
He was looking directly at her, off-color eyes focused on her intently. Somehow during Ed's speech, Jet had set a plate consisting of one egg and two pieces of bacon in front of her, and she began poking at it now, trying to avoid Spike's stare. Why was he looking at her like that, not saying a word? Faye gulped down the small breakfast, and nodded her thanks to Jet, who looked at her oddly from his position beside the stove.
Faye Valentine wasn't the kind to say "thank you" to anyone. She also wasn't the kind of person who could resist a good verbal sparring in the morning, especially with a certain fuzzy-haired cowboy. But she pushed back her chair and stood, ignoring the pang that echoed through her as Spike looked back down at his congealing breakfast, and made a fast, yet dignified exit back to the privacy of her room.
Jet and Ed looked at each other in confusion as Spike pushed aside his mostly untouched plate and stepped away from the table. His normally relaxed long-legged gait extended to make a quick exit, punctuated only by the sounds of his bare feet slapping on the tile. Jet caught Spike's frown before he disappeared from view.
Before the ex-cop could take a step towards his departed partner, the little Welsh corgi broke the strange silence, jumping from floor to chair to table with a small bark of joy, and began to eat. He finished a moment later, and licking all crumbs from his mouth, gave a sheepish doggy grin as if to say, "Forget about them. We'll all be okay." Ed broke into bright peals of laughter, but Jet could only shrug in reply as he looked at the empty doorway his partner had just disappeared through.
IT'S ALL DOWNHILL FROM HERE, COWBOY.