By Sailor Red
Cowboy Bebop and all its characters are copywrite 1998 Sunrise/Bandai
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Chapter Three
Rain
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"Miss Valentine? . . . Miss Valentine?" Faye opened her eyes slowly and the bright lights of the hospital made her squeeze them shut. She opened them again, squinting at the nurse who was bending down next to her, a gentle smile on her face.
"Are you all right, Miss Valentine?" Faye sighed and rose to her feet, patting the nonexistent dirt off of her rear end. She didn't recognize the wing she was in, she hadn't really been paying attention when she was running like a deranged lunatic through the halls. The nurse looked at her, concern written across her features. Faye smiled as much as she could. It hurt to smile. It felt empty.
"I'm fine . . . um, thanks." she told the other woman. The nurse breathed a sigh of relief. She smirked and put her hands on her hips.
"You know, you really worried me for a second there. I tried to shake you and you didn't get up. I almost had to get the Doctor . . ." Faye squirmed slightly and scratched her head, laughing a laugh that held no mirth.
"Er . . . I guess I'm just a little upset. . ." 'and going a little crazy' she added silently to herself, a painful lump settling in her throat. She felt like she was going to cry again, but she refused to. There was no point in it. It wasn't going to help her, it wasn't going to help Spike, and it wasn't going to help her convince everyone that she was 'OK.' Why did people have to worry about her, anyway? Why now, when they didn't give a shit about her before today? The nurse still had that sympathetic smile on her face and Faye had the urge to slap it off. What the hell was her problem, anyway?
"I'd be upset, too in your situation . . ." The nurse started, and Faye looked up at her in confusion: she had totally lost track of the conversation. She had been too busy wallowing in her own self pity. ". . . I mean, back when you were here, you were being treated for amnesia, and now your friend's in the same room with the same problem . . ."
Faye felt like she had been slapped in the face. Her eyes grew wide and she started trembling. 'That's right . . . room 624 . . .'
'Don't you remember, Faye? Oh, come on Faye, what's the matter? You don't remember this room? You don't remember this place? Don't you remember ANYTHING?' Faye recalled her mind's taunts from only and hour ago and felt tears once again fill her eyes.
"Oh God . . ." Faye croaked out, the tears she had been holding in spilling down her face, landing with almost audible 'pats' on the floor. The nurse put a comforting hand on her shoulder, and for once, Faye didn't try to slap the gesture away. The other woman lifted Faye's chin with her finger and smiled gently.
"I'm glad you're crying, Miss Valentine. You've always tried to be so strong and untouchable. It's not healthy for you to hold it in all the time . . ." Faye looked up at the nurse through tear filled eyes and smirked. The other woman wiped one of Faye's tears away and smiled warmly. Faye smiled back at the woman and then jumped with a sudden realization. She KNEW this woman!
"Do . . . do I know you?" The nurse nodded, a hint of surprise on her features.
"I'm Cathy. I brought you your lunch while you were here. I'm surprised you recognize me!" Faye nearly beamed.
"I didn't remember you at first . . ." Faye smiled sheepishly "But I do now . . . " Cathy laughed.
"Well, I'm glad." She smiled, then looked at her watch. "I'd love to talk more, Miss Valentine, but I have patients to attend to. I was asked to look for you and tell you that your friends are waiting for you on their ship. Visiting hours are over." Faye laughed half-heartedly. She looked down at the floor and then looked back up at the woman.
"All right. I'll see you, then. Thanks." Faye replied and Cathy grinned.
"No problem." The nurse answered. Faye then spun around and ran towards the door, giving a quick wave towards the nurse as she left.
She slowed her pace when she reached the Red Tail, and took a deep breath. It seemed her moment of happiness was just that: a moment. As she climbed into her ship and set the coordinates for the Bebop, she could feel the tears try to come out again. Almost everything about Spike's amnesia was the same. There was only one thing that was different. The pain. The pain was greater this time than it was before. So much more that it was positively frightening.
When she had woken up without any memories and tried to cope with it, it hurt, but the pain was almost bearable. She didn't know what she had lost, so it didn't hurt her that she had lost the moments. With Spike, however . . . She knew Spike. She had lived through some of the memories that Spike had lost. She knew some of the answers to the questions that Spike needed.
She should have done something. She didn't do anything tangible to stop him from flying away from her and the Bebop. She blamed herself for Spike's amnesia.
And she hated herself for that from the bottom of her heart.
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Spike sighed heavily as he was asked question after question by the
doctor. The doc was constantly scribbling SOMETHING on his little memo
pad, and Spike could only imagine what those little words were. Crazy,
maybe? A little 'Dumb Ass' here and a 'Dip Shit' there?
Spike smirked and the doctor grunted.
"What's so funny?" Spike simply shook his head and smirked some more. The doc 'hmphed' and proceeded to check Spike's vitals, clicking his tongue at almost everything he viewed. Spike had the urge to punch the doctor. Those clicking sounds were getting on his nerves, and on top of that, they were EXTREMELY unnerving. What the hell was that doctor seeing on that screen, anyway? The doc turned back to Spike.
"Your vitals are fine. You seem to be in perfect heath, er, minus the test we ran on your brain that proves you have amnesia." The doctor cleared his throat. "As soon as we get you on your feet again, you can leave." Spike stared at the doctor in confusion.
"What do you mean, get me on my feet?" The doctor laughed. Spike clenched his fist and wondered what was so damn funny.
"Why, physical therapy, of course! Have you TRIED to walk yet?" Spike growled and stubbornly sat up and swung his feet to the side of his bed. The doctor stared at him in disbelief and shock, as Spike tried to stand up and take a step. Spike could feel his muscles angrily protesting the pressure on his legs. He was almost instantly on the floor, cursing to himself. The doctor offered him a hand and Spike slapped it away, grabbing the metal bar on his bed and hoisting himself up and back onto the bed. The doctor just glared at him and made his way out the door.
"Make yourself comfortable." he said irritably. "Cathy will be in here in a few minutes to bring you something to eat." The doctor shut the door, shaking his head. Spike sighed and laid down on the bed, staring up towards the ceiling, studying it as if it would give him some answers. He sighed and reached under his blanket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes he had swiped from the doctor. The nice thing about being a stubborn jackass and trying to walk when there was no way in hell it was possible after seven months off his feet, was that it made it VERY easy to swipe something from that unsuspecting doctor. The bad thing was, as Spike noticed the label on the box, that doctors over here seemed to have a thing for menthol. He swore at the offending pack, but took a cigarette out anyway. He swore again.
No light.
"What the FUCK! This day gets better and better!" he screamed sarcastically and threw the cigarette across the room. He sighed and plopped back to a laying position on the bed, once again staring at the ceiling.
He didn't really want to think about anything. There wasn't anything to really think about. However, his mind wanted some stimulation, and he couldn't exactly say 'no' to it. It was upsetting to try and think when his head was nearly blank. He decided to try to think of what he knew, rather than what he didn't. There was something nagging in the back of his mind. That Faye woman. What was her problem? He had been joking around with her one minute, and the next, when he thought he had remembered something, she had run out the door, crying. Spike had known she was crying. That whole 'smoke in her eyes' thing was one hell of a lame excuse. She had said that she had been through the same thing he was going through right now. Did that mean that she had had amnesia, too? If she knew what this felt like, why the hell didn't she answer his fucking questions? Why didn't she give him something, anything, to hold onto? Any sort of little memory, any kind of trigger . . . a sound, a sight, a smell? Anything!
She had given him names. Names that meant nothing to him except something to go with a couple of faces. Well, what the hell was that all about? She had looked pretty upset when he had mentioned Vicious and Julia . . . like there was something VERY relevant to his memory in the pictures that graced his left eye. He could get information from the context of these people and the places that they were in, but he didn't feel the feeling behind them. He didn't recognize the pain on his face for what it was, and he couldn't piece together the scenes because they needed some sort of memory to glue them together.
It tore at him. It hurt like hell to be shown pictures and not remember where he had seen them before. It hurt even more than the knowledge he had forgotten a whole lot more than those two people. He gulped on air.
That's why Faye didn't tell me anything . . . she KNEW about this. She KNOWS what this is like . . . Spike growled in frustration. No. He wasn't going to think anymore . . . it was too damn upsetting. He was just going to wait for that nurse to come in, he was going to eat, and then he was going to bed. He'd deal with all this sentimental shit when he was more awake and not jittering like a junkie from his nicotine cravings. He relaxed and tried to wipe all of the thoughts in his head, listening to the soft jazz coming from the room's speakers. He closed his eyes and let he music flow over him and calm him. The song ended and a new one started up, a discordant organ starting some song that seemed vaguely familiar . . .
I don't feel a thing
And I stopped remembering
The days are just like moments turned to hours . . .
Spike's eye seemed to hurt like hell in an instant, and he shot up in bed, clutching his face in fear. A lump settled in his throat and he cried out. The song conjured images: unexplainably beautiful yet horridly haunting pictures drawn in thick coats of crimson red.
Mother used to say
If you want, you'll find a way
Bet mother never danced through fire shower
There were people falling everywhere, and explosions echoing off the walls. One by one he took down men . . .
Walk in the rain, in the rain, in the rain
I walk in the rain, in the rain
Is it right or is it wrong
and is it here that I belong?
A cathedral . . . he was in a cathedral . . . stained glass windows were in every frame with their beauty a total opposite of the raw carnage going on inside its walls . . .
I don't hear a sound
Silent faces in the ground
The quiet screams, but I refused to listen
Blood was everywhere, and he was numb. He had one goal in mind, and that was to get to the guy he came after: Vicious.
If there is a hell
I'm sure this is how it smells
wish this were a dream, but no, it isn't
A crow came up in back of him. Surprised him. Tried to dig it's claws into him. Then that man . . . that silver haired man attacked him with his sword, the sound of it clanging off of his gun echoing over all of the other sounds in the cathedral.
Walk in the rain, in the rain, in the rain
I walk in the rain, in the rain
Am I right or am I wrong
and is it here that I belong?
Everything was silent except for the sound of Vicious and himself and their weapons. It was a heated battle, cruel words and un noble sentiments flying through the air. The words mixed with the smell of blood. It filled his senses and made him want to gag. Then he was falling. He had been pushed and he was falling, the beauty of a circular stained glass window shattered as he fell, the pieces not quite quick enough to fall alongside him. The pieces waited for him to fall so that they could cut them with their jagged edges when he landed. Then there was blackness.
Walk in the rain, in the rain, in the rain
I walk in the rain, in the rain
Why do I feel so alone
for some reason I think of home.
Spike could barely breathe as the song faded out. He took deep breaths as he tried to calm himself, and rubbed his temples with his forefingers. The pain in his eye was gone, but his head was killing him.
His head . . .
Spike's eyes widened in a sudden realization: the images he had just seen had not come from his eye; those images came from his head! They were clear and emotional, and most certainly there. It was a horrible memory to get back, but it was a memory, nevertheless. A wide grin spread across his face. It was something.
The nurse came in carrying a tray of some horrible, mangled looking . . . something. It was supposed to be food. Spike wasn't really paying attention to it, he was too fixated on what had just happened. The poor nurse took one look at the man and stepped back. He was grinning like a lunatic!
"Um . . . Mr. Spiegel?" Cathy asked cautiously, gripping the "food" tray for dear life. Spike jumped in surprise. "Mr. Spiegel, are you . . . okay?" Spike nodded and nearly ripped the food tray out of her hand, getting ready to dig in . . . until he actually looked at it . . .
The nurse breathed a sigh of relief: He seemed to be fine.
Spike looked at what was in front of him and poked it with his fork. He jumped back as it wiggled . . . and it wasn't gelatin . . . He sighed, plugged his nose, and dug in. The nurse seemed to be afraid of him again. She finally shrugged and smiled.
"You know, Mr. Spiegel, you're only the second person I've actually seen eat that stuff." Spike shrugged.
"And the first?" Cathy smiled.
"Faye Valentine." Spike looked up to the nurse in confusion, and she smiled, seeming to know what he was asking. "She was a patient here a little over three years ago. Actually, she had the same room as you do right now. It's a little odd . . ." Spike's face fell. No wonder the woman had been so upset . . . He sighed.
"Hey . . . Um, Cathy, right?" The nurse nodded. "Is there anyway for me to get in touch with Jet or Faye?" Cathy looked at Spike quizzically, then shook her head.
"They didn't leave a number . . . so . . ." Spike looked down to his now empty plate.
"Oh." He blinked and shrugged. "Oh well." He really wanted to tell someone about what had just happened, but he'd be damned if he'd tell the nurse or the doctor. He already had had enough stupid tests done on him for one day. Cathy frowned.
"I'm sorry, I really wish I could help you . . . I'm sure they'll be here to visit tomorrow . . ." Spike's features seemed to brighten.
"Ok." He said, trying to hide the fact that he was happy that the people who he had 'met' today weren't just going to up and leave him here. His eyes brightened further as he thought up his next question for the helpful nurse.
"Hey . . ." He put on his most charming smile. "Cathy . . . you happen to have a lighter or a book of matches on you?" Cathy laughed and rolled her eyes, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a lighter. She handed it to him and nearly fell to the floor in fits of giggles as Spike fumbled for a cigarette and lit it with shaky hands, taking a drag with a face that could only have been described as ecstasy. She stared at him like he was a lunatic again, then shook her head and left the room, leaving her lighter with him. He obviously needed it a lot more than she did . . .
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To be continued . . .
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Hey minna. Hope you liked this little installment . . . things should pick up a bit in the next chapter . . . I'm sorry that Spike is a little OOC, but considering that he himself doesn't know what he's supposed to be like right now . . . I dunno, it doesn't seem to be bugging any of you, but it's bugging me a little. Anyway . . . I seem to have made this chapter into a lil song fic . . . usually that's something I've tried to stay away from, but a big part of Cowboy Bebop is the music, and well, it fit. What can I say. Music is an excellent memory trigger.
Um, if I can swing it in between the essay I have to write for my comp one class, I'll try to get the next chapter up tomorrow. Otherwise, it will definitely be up by the 8th. ^_^ Ja!
This fic is copyright March/April 2002 Sailor Red/Elaine Mahlecke
The song used in this fic, "Rain" belongs to Yoko
Kanno and the Seatbelts, and can be found on the first Cowboy Bebop soundtrack.