by Sailor Red
Cowboy Bebop belongs to Sunrise Inc. Bandai Ent. (not me *cries*)
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Chapter Two
Sad Sad Song
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"Who the hell are you?"
If words were knives then Jet and Faye would have fallen to the floor, bloodied to the point of non resuscitation. The gentle spring breeze fluttered the curtains in the room softly, but an arctic wind surrounded the two as they shivered violently from the impact of such a small question. They became deaf in that instant, until the beep of Spike's heart monitor snapped them out of the trance he had put them in. Jet felt the urge to scream at the other man in frustration, but the words would not come out. Faye was simply numb. She knew what was happening. She had been there. For a quick instant, she wished that Spike was dead.
She knew the pain of not knowing who she was. Such a pain could be worse than death. The memory of such brought tears to her emerald eyes, and she choked on those tears. She choked on her memories. She had wished a lot of things on Spike when she was angry, but never . . . never this.
Spike sat up on the the bed, looking around the room in confusion. He searched his mind frantically for anything that seemed familiar. He was in a bed. The beeping thing next to him was a monitor. There was a needle in his hand, attached to a long tube and then a bag of clear liquid. He recognized all of this.
He did not recognize the two people standing beside him. One of them was a big guy, with a metal arm. The man looked like he was in shock. Like he was hurt. The other person was a woman with purple hair and a skimpy yellow outfit. The woman was shaking. She looked like she was crying. He looked at her with bewildered eyes, and then watched as the big man put his hand on her shoulder.
"F-faye . . ." The big man said softly to the woman. "Faye, calm down." The woman rounded on him and slapped his hand away.
"Fuck you, calm down! He doesn't remember us! You know what this means, right?" The big man visibly gulped and looked down to the floor. He knew what it meant, all right. He just didn't want to believe it.
"Hey . . ." Spike spoke, his voice hoarse from its lack of use. "Could one of you fill me in here, 'cause I sure as hell don't know what's going on." The woman nodded, and then turned to the metal armed man.
"Jet, you should go get a doctor, I'll talk to Spike." The big man glared at the purple haired woman.
"What're ya going to tell him?" he asked suspiciously. "Why don't YOU get the doctor." The woman's eyebrow twitted.
"I think I know a LITTLE bit more about amnesia than you do, Jet, so go get the fucking doctor and stop bitching like a little girl!" The man glared at the woman as if he had the intention to do her serious bodily harm, then turned and walked towards the door. He stopped at it for an instant, then grabbed the knob, ripped the door open and slammed it loudly on his way out.
"Amnesia? Is that what this is?" Faye turned to Spike and sighed. She pulled a metal folding chair to his bedside and plopped into it, head facing down, hair covering her eyes. She took a deep breath and looked up, brushing a stray bang behind her ear. She sighed.
"Yeah. I think so." She gulped. She had once been on the other side of this chair. She had once been the tired, confused, shell of herself that asked for answers. That begged for anything that would bring her lost sense of self back to her. The only difference was that she cared for Spike's well being and recovery. Whitney had used her venerability to screw her over. She would not let the same thing happen to Spike.
"Hey, are you gonna say anything or not?" Faye snapped out of her memory.
"Um . . . yeah. What do you remember?" Spike shifted in what looked to be discomfort.
"Things . . . but not people." Faye grimaced bitterly. It was the same. "Well, actually, no, that's not completely true . . ." Faye looked at Spike quizzically. "My eye . . ." The purple haired woman let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding. Of course. His eye. The mechanical one that had recorded his dream. She clenched the fabric of her shorts.
"Go on."
"There's images of people. A silver haired man and a blonde haired woman." he breathed. "But I don't . . . I mean . . . I can't tell what they're there for . . . Hell, I can't even remember their names. I can't remember mine, either." Faye sighed.
"I want to help you. I really do. But I can't tell you a lot of things. If I tell you, then you might start to make fake memories out of them. I can give you names, but that's it. The rest you have to remember on your own." Spike glared and kneaded his pillow.
"Just give me something . . ." Faye wanted to throw up. It made her sick that she knew more about someone else's life and couldn't tell them. She couldn't risk feeding him memories that may form into lies. She refused to put Spike through what she went through.
"A-alright. Your name is Spike Speigel, I'm Faye, and the guy that was in here earlier is Jet. Um . . . That silver haired guy's name is Vicious, and the blonde is Julia. Both of them are dead, but don't write them off as unimportant, 'cause they were." She took a deep breath. "Look, Spike, I know what you're going through. The same thing happened to me, and I got my memory back. I know you'll get yours back, too. Just don't think about it too much. It's hard, but just don't. You'll get more hints when you're not looking for them." She smiled. "And don't get used to me being this nice, I'm a real bitch most of the time." Spike smiled back.
"Yeah, I saw that with that Jet guy." Faye's eyebrow twitched, and she stared at the green haired man. He was different all right, but in some ways he was the same. His mannerisms remained intact, and he still had the same attitude when he wanted to. Even though it annoyed her, it also relieved her greatly that he was basically the same old Spike . . . well minus the angsty memories. Minus some of the fond ones on the Bebop, too. He'd get them back though. He just HAD to. Her musings were cut short by Spike waving his hand in front of her face. She jumped. Spike smiled like he wanted something, and indeed he did.
"Oi, Faye, mind if I steal one of your smokes?" It wasn't a question, so much as a taunt. He already had her pack in his hand, and had already pulled out and lit one of her cigarettes. Faye growled and snatched the pack out of his hand, pulled one out for herself, and lit it. She glared at the amused look on Spike's face as she took a drag and then blew the smoke in his face. She smirked.
"Jerk."
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Jet walked down the hospital corridors, the urge to kick something or punch something or even shoot something, first and foremost in his mind. Why the hell did Spike have to have amnesia? He answered his own question mentally: 'Well, because he's been in a coma for seven fucking months. You knew he was going to have SOME sort of brain damage . . . you just weren't prepared for this type.' Jet growled inwardly. He would have to be VERY careful with his bonsai's tonight, otherwise he may chop them all down.
The nurse's station was only a couple more feet away, but it may as well have been a walk from Mercury to Jupiter. He didn't want to tell the doctor that Spike had woken up. He didn't want to tell that same doctor that his best bud didn't even REMEMBER him. He wanted to run back to Spike's room and hear the green haired man laughing his ass off because he had just told a horrible joke; Spike really remembered everything but just wanted to see the look on Jet's face.
Jet knew that that was simply not the case. The blank look that Spike had given him was engraved in Jet's mind. It was NOT the look of someone who was telling a joke. It was the look that Spike had reserved for strangers and bounties that he didn't give a shit about.
Jet stepped up to the nurse's cubby and cleared his throat. The nurse was busy chit chatting on the phone, squeaky voiced like she was flirting with someone that Jet had the urge to kill in his current angry state. This was not the time for the nurse to be flirting like some dumb blonde bimbo. He slammed his fist on her desk, and she nearly flew out of her seat in shock, almost ripping out the lock of hair she had been twirling around her finger. Shakily voiced, she pulled herself together and asked:
"M-may I help you?" Jet glared at her and mentally forced his arm to stay down on the desk, lest he raise it without thinking and strangle her.
"Yes, Yes you can . . ." He said in a sickeningly sweet voice, then changed his tone to much more gruff. "Spike's awake. He probably has amnesia. He could PROBABLY use a CAT scan. So if you'd be so KIND . . .Go GET the fucking doctor!" The nurse 'eeped' like the little shoujo anime character she seemed to be, and ran towards the direction of the doctor's current location.
Jet glared in the nurse's general location and then spun around and
headed back to Spike's room. He seemed to be walking back to the room a
lot faster than he had when he was walking away from it. This was probably
due to the fact that the numb disbelief had finally set in. He wanted to
believe that he was having some sort of nightmare and that he'd wake up
and the whole episode had never happened. He was glad that Spike was awake,
sure, but deep down he wished that the man would go back to sleep and wake
up the same as he used to be. He took a deep breath when he reached Spike's
door, and then opened it slowly, carefully, like
too much pressure on the knob would shatter the wood into splinters.
Much like he felt would happen to him should any other bad surprises show
up.
He was pleasantly surpassed by the sight that befell him when he walked into the room. Spike and Faye were fighting about something or another, cigarettes lit and being swung around haphazardly in frantic hands.
Like old times.
Jet smiled for the first time in what felt like eons. He tried to wipe the grin off of his face and look stern.
"Faye, what the hell are you doing? You shouldn't be aggravating him." Faye glared at Jet, and then shrugged.
"Yeah Jet, Spike's fucking glass. Please." Spike smirked, then grabbed Faye's cigarettes.
"You look like you need one of these Jet . . ." Spike threw the pack to Jet, and he laughed. Faye's eyes grew wide, her eyebrow twitched, and she growled.
"Spike, if you weren't in that bed, I'd kick your ass . . ." Faye's rant was interrupted by a blur of tan and red streaking through the room.
"Ed heard green haired man was awake!" She ran over to Spike, grabbed his cheek and started stretching it. Spike almost looked frightened.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!" Faye rolled her eyes. Ed looked confused. Jet tried to hold back his laughter: and HE had been worried about getting used to Ed again! Faye spoke up.
"Oh, that's Ed . . . and that mutt humping your leg is Ein." Spike made a disgusted face and kicked his leg to dislodge the offending Welsh Corgi. Ein whimpered and hid behind Jet. Ed jumped up on Spike's bed and proceeded to sniff the fluffy haired man.
"Spike-spike smells different . . ." Spike now looked completely confused. He pulled Ed up by the back of her shirt and the girl hung like a kitten lifted by the scruff of its neck. Faye grinned.
"Spike always smelt funny, Ed." Spike glared at Faye while dropping Ed on the floor. He stole another of Faye's cigarettes, lit it, breathed in, breathed out, and then looked around.
"Kid's, Critters, and Tomboy's . . . I hate 'em." Faye dropped her cigarette, and coughed on her own inhaled smoke. Jet's mouth hung open in utter shock. Ed tried to ride Ein like a horse. Spike seemed to be thinking, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There was something in the back of his mind trying to force its way out. He smirked uncomfortably.
"I . . . I've said that before . . . haven't I." It was a statement, and not a question. He knew he had said something like that before. It felt familiar, however, as much as he searched his brain for the memory attached to it, it slipped through his fingers. Faye smiled, she nodded, and Spike noticed a hint of pain in her emerald eyes. The purple haired woman picked her cigarette up off the floor, took a drag, and then put it out. She got up from her chair with a tear on her cheek, muttered something about 'hating it when smoke gets in her eyes,' and walked out of the room.
Jet and Spike stared at the door in confusion as it closed behind her.
A minute later, the doctor came into the room. He asked for everyone to
leave for the night, and after much argument in between Jet and the doctor,
they agreed. The Doc had to do some tests, and Jet certainly needed some
sleep. It was arranged that the nurses would keep an eye out for Faye and
let her know that Jet, Ed, and Ein were going to be on the Bebop, and she
'would be tolerated' there if she wanted to spend the night. Tomorrow they
could visit again, with the stipulation that Jet kept his temper under
control . . . apparently the poor nurse he had run into had
been scared shitless by the man, and it was 'not appreciated' by the
staff. Oh well. Tomorrow was another day, after all.
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Faye ran past the doctor as she sped through the halls of the hospital, past the paisley rimmed walls and towering IV stands. She had her hands clutched to her sides, like she would lose them if she were to swing them around. The tears fell from her eyes like a waterfall. A waterfall that had mysteriously sprung up on a sand dune in the desert, for she had certainly not cried in months before today. It was too much. It was all too damn much.
She knew far too well everything that Spike was going through. She remembered
all of the times that she said something that she KNEW she had said before,
and yet didn't remember where or when she had said it. She knew the feeling
of frantically searching her mind for answers, for something, anything
to grasp onto. Anything that would even resemble a memory, a flash, or
even some sort of commonplace. It always slipped through her grasp. All
of the familiarities that seemed more than coincidence, all of the De ja
vu moments that haunted her soul with their taunts . . . 'Yes, you've
been here, of course you have . . . don't you
remember?'
'Don't you remember?' Her mind played with her, attacked her, caused her to halt mid sprint.
She squeezed shut her eyes as unmerciful, painful memories tore at her soul, their claws leaving long languid scratches across her heart. Like someone trying to do needle work with a dagger.
'Don't you remember Faye? Oh, come on Faye, what's the matter? You don't remember this place? You don't remember this room? Don't you remember ANYTHING? What did your parents look like, Faye? Did you take after your mom or your dad? How old are you? Who are you? Who were you? Where'd your mind go, little girl?'
Faye screamed and sunk to the floor, clutching her head.
"Why?" she said weakly, trembling, begging the world for an answer.
'Don't you remember, Faye? It's cause you wanted to see the stars . . .and you saw them . . . you saw them in all their glory . . . until one exploded and ripped your mind away . . . you remember that, Faye? Do you remember the moment your pain began? You were the daughter to a wealthy man, Faye. You wanted to see the stars, and Daddy let you. Now you can barely remember him. Isn't it funny?'
"Shut up!" Faye insisted her mind. "Just . Shut . UP!" Her mind didn't listen.
'You should have shot your little friend there . . .'
Faye's eyes went dry and flew open. She gasped.
'. . .If you had shot him when you had the chance, he wouldn't be going through this right now, now would he? All ya had to do was shoot him in the legs and he wouldn't have been able to go! But you didn't, Faye. You just wasted your bullets on the roof of the Bebop. You just cried like the sentimental jackass you really are. You didn't stop him. You could have, but you didn't. This is ALL YOUR FAULT!'
Her mind laughed at her, poked her and prodded her in all of her insecure spots, until she numbly stared into nothing, and blacked out, curled into a fetal position on the sterile, cold, hospital floor.
'Don't you remember? You could've saved him from all of this . . . but you were weak, Faye . . . you were too damn weak . . .'
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To be continued . . .
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Hey minna. I worked a lot harder on this chapter then I did the first. I AM sorry about the lack of detailing in the first chapter. What can I say, it was the first good story line to pop into my head after a four month battle with writer's block. That said, I do aim to please, and all of the constructive criticism and feedback I get inspires me to write bigger and better. So please review me. It only takes a minute, but it will feed my passion to write for many chapters and stories to come. Luv ya all.
~Sailor Red~
This fic is copyright Sailor Red / Elaine Mahlecke March/April 2002
Side note to Dee-chan -> Yes, I do believe it safe to copyright a fanfic, as long as the disclaimers for the show and the characters are in the fic. It's like when a poetry anthology comes out and they copyright the book format and layout, but not the actual poems within. K?