Ha, okay, after reading your reviews I have decided (finally!) on the whole Spike problem. No, I'm not going to tell you- you have to read, duh! This is the problem with starting stories without a plot in mind. I need to stop doing that. Ahem, enough with my mini-rant, I now need to start typing this up.
Oh, and ... gosh, do I even have to say it? Fine. I don't own Cowboy Bebop.
***
My Beautiful
Ch. 3- Back to Eden
I breathe in deeply before stepping onto the ship. This is my golden opportunity, my magic ticket that will take me away from the ignominy of my life. Damn, I'm going to be even more in debt to Jet. But, this time, I don't really mind. At this point, I feel as if he deserves just about every penny I get. He's a good man, Jet is. To take me back after all the times I've left. But this time, I won't leave. I'm going to work until I can look at myself in the mirror again, I'm going to regain what little dignity I had.
As I step up the ladder, bag in hand, I wonder what sort of arrival I should expect. If Ed's there, then it will be a happy one. But, Ed probably won't be there, I remember sadly. I kind of liked the kid, while she was around. And Ein will be gone too. I don't mind that as much. I'm not exactly a fan of the canine branch of evolution. But how will Jet react to me? And how much will going back remind me of him? How much of him will I remember? How long will I cry? Just thinking about it makes my eyes water a little.
I step up to the top of the ship. The deck is grimy, as usual, encrusted with the dust of.. well, eons at least. I slam open the button and duck through the entrance. I guess Jet still doesn't lock the ship. Not that there's much to steal anyway. He pauses as he walks across the living room. "Oh, it's you. Hi."
Hi!? I'm gone for over a year and all I get is a HI!? Slightly perturbed, I reply, "Yes. It's me. Hi." I walk past him, doing my best snubbed princess impression, and waltz across the living room in the direction of my room.
"Faye... wait a sec." His voice sounds... odd, strained. Curious, I turn back to him. He looks very nervous- odd, for Jet. "It's... well, you see, after you left... um... well, this is hard to explain."
What on earth is making him stutter so much? "Just spit it out Jet, what's wrong? You do-" I am cut off by the most extraordinary thing. The most unexpected, horrifying, rending, destroying thing. My eyes go wide, my bag falls ever so slowly to the floor, the seconds echo and tumble around me, cascading past at a century's pace. Detached, unreal feelings flood through me, I stumble back in alarm, hand going to my mouth. A shuddering sob escapes my lips.
Spike Spiegel is standing in the entrance to the hall, holding a wrench. I seem to notice every detail of this moment. His hair is a just slightly out of place, and a smudge of grease lines the curve of his left jaw. His eyes, mismatched and beautiful as ever, widen slightly as he sees me, and his mouth opens slightly, allowing the cigarette which had perched on his lip to fall to the floor and extinguish with a soft sizzling sound. He's not wearing his jacket, and his shirt is crumpled and marred with dirt and sweat. His tie is loose around his neck, and is just about as wrinkled as his shirt.
"Faye..."
I back up until I hit the wall, the pain of impact slightly jarring me out of my shock. I feel like I'm in a drug daze, it's so unreal, but it has to be real. I haven't had drugs for days. At least, I think I haven't- maybe I'm just delusional. But it feels real. He looks real. But I know that can't happen either. So I'm at an impasse. It can't happen, but it is, it can't be real, but it has to be.
Jet rubbed his head with his metal hand. "This... was what I wanted to tell you." I turn to stare open mouthed at Jet. He continued on, obviously embarrassed. "Um, a few days after you left, I got a call from a hospital. Someone had found him and brought him in, he was almost dead. It took him nearly two months to recover completely, and..." He trailed off. I turn back to Spike, mouth agape. I feel like I should say something, but I can't. My mouth should spew forth words of wisdom, beauty, and wit, something significant, or deep. But all I can do is weakly stutter.
"Aren't you... dead?" Oh dear, did I just say that? Yes, I believe I did. How utterly inspiring. But, what can one really expect in the circumstances? Come back, perfectly normal, and then the dead love of your life shows up, and he's dirty.
He just smirks, and pulls out another cigarette. "Stunning observation, Faye. Yes I am, in fact, dead, and have decided to come back and haunt you. Brilliant." Oh, but of course, even if he is dead, he can't lose that sterling sense of humor. This is just too much. After a year away, a year thinking he's dead, and year grieving his loss, he insults me.
"Well, I'm sorry for being surprised! You go off to die, and you don't come back for weeks! What the Hell was I supposed to think? Then, after a year of shit, I come back and you're Mr. Asshole! Well this is just fucking great!" Feeling very stupid, I pick up my bag and storm off to my room. Which has some of Spike's shit in it. Well, this won't do at all. I toss his crap bodily into the hall, shut the door, and lock it tightly.
Sitting on the bed, I slowly regain some sort of composure. What did I just do? I just cussed out the one man I'd ever loved. And now I need a cigarette so bad I can feel it. I search through my bag for my pack and light one up. The I lay back on my bed to ponder why I'd ever made the decision to come to the Bebop.
***
OK, sorry, that was not exactly a good chapter, but at least I said what needed said. And I have the next chapter all planned out. Yep, I call it my Faye-and-Spike-get-together chapter. I considered making it mushy romance, but that just wouldn't be the Bebop way, now would it? No, no it wouldn't. So expect something dark and subtle. And sorry for the long wait on this chapter, but I was busy.
~val~
Oh, and ... gosh, do I even have to say it? Fine. I don't own Cowboy Bebop.
***
My Beautiful
Ch. 3- Back to Eden
I breathe in deeply before stepping onto the ship. This is my golden opportunity, my magic ticket that will take me away from the ignominy of my life. Damn, I'm going to be even more in debt to Jet. But, this time, I don't really mind. At this point, I feel as if he deserves just about every penny I get. He's a good man, Jet is. To take me back after all the times I've left. But this time, I won't leave. I'm going to work until I can look at myself in the mirror again, I'm going to regain what little dignity I had.
As I step up the ladder, bag in hand, I wonder what sort of arrival I should expect. If Ed's there, then it will be a happy one. But, Ed probably won't be there, I remember sadly. I kind of liked the kid, while she was around. And Ein will be gone too. I don't mind that as much. I'm not exactly a fan of the canine branch of evolution. But how will Jet react to me? And how much will going back remind me of him? How much of him will I remember? How long will I cry? Just thinking about it makes my eyes water a little.
I step up to the top of the ship. The deck is grimy, as usual, encrusted with the dust of.. well, eons at least. I slam open the button and duck through the entrance. I guess Jet still doesn't lock the ship. Not that there's much to steal anyway. He pauses as he walks across the living room. "Oh, it's you. Hi."
Hi!? I'm gone for over a year and all I get is a HI!? Slightly perturbed, I reply, "Yes. It's me. Hi." I walk past him, doing my best snubbed princess impression, and waltz across the living room in the direction of my room.
"Faye... wait a sec." His voice sounds... odd, strained. Curious, I turn back to him. He looks very nervous- odd, for Jet. "It's... well, you see, after you left... um... well, this is hard to explain."
What on earth is making him stutter so much? "Just spit it out Jet, what's wrong? You do-" I am cut off by the most extraordinary thing. The most unexpected, horrifying, rending, destroying thing. My eyes go wide, my bag falls ever so slowly to the floor, the seconds echo and tumble around me, cascading past at a century's pace. Detached, unreal feelings flood through me, I stumble back in alarm, hand going to my mouth. A shuddering sob escapes my lips.
Spike Spiegel is standing in the entrance to the hall, holding a wrench. I seem to notice every detail of this moment. His hair is a just slightly out of place, and a smudge of grease lines the curve of his left jaw. His eyes, mismatched and beautiful as ever, widen slightly as he sees me, and his mouth opens slightly, allowing the cigarette which had perched on his lip to fall to the floor and extinguish with a soft sizzling sound. He's not wearing his jacket, and his shirt is crumpled and marred with dirt and sweat. His tie is loose around his neck, and is just about as wrinkled as his shirt.
"Faye..."
I back up until I hit the wall, the pain of impact slightly jarring me out of my shock. I feel like I'm in a drug daze, it's so unreal, but it has to be real. I haven't had drugs for days. At least, I think I haven't- maybe I'm just delusional. But it feels real. He looks real. But I know that can't happen either. So I'm at an impasse. It can't happen, but it is, it can't be real, but it has to be.
Jet rubbed his head with his metal hand. "This... was what I wanted to tell you." I turn to stare open mouthed at Jet. He continued on, obviously embarrassed. "Um, a few days after you left, I got a call from a hospital. Someone had found him and brought him in, he was almost dead. It took him nearly two months to recover completely, and..." He trailed off. I turn back to Spike, mouth agape. I feel like I should say something, but I can't. My mouth should spew forth words of wisdom, beauty, and wit, something significant, or deep. But all I can do is weakly stutter.
"Aren't you... dead?" Oh dear, did I just say that? Yes, I believe I did. How utterly inspiring. But, what can one really expect in the circumstances? Come back, perfectly normal, and then the dead love of your life shows up, and he's dirty.
He just smirks, and pulls out another cigarette. "Stunning observation, Faye. Yes I am, in fact, dead, and have decided to come back and haunt you. Brilliant." Oh, but of course, even if he is dead, he can't lose that sterling sense of humor. This is just too much. After a year away, a year thinking he's dead, and year grieving his loss, he insults me.
"Well, I'm sorry for being surprised! You go off to die, and you don't come back for weeks! What the Hell was I supposed to think? Then, after a year of shit, I come back and you're Mr. Asshole! Well this is just fucking great!" Feeling very stupid, I pick up my bag and storm off to my room. Which has some of Spike's shit in it. Well, this won't do at all. I toss his crap bodily into the hall, shut the door, and lock it tightly.
Sitting on the bed, I slowly regain some sort of composure. What did I just do? I just cussed out the one man I'd ever loved. And now I need a cigarette so bad I can feel it. I search through my bag for my pack and light one up. The I lay back on my bed to ponder why I'd ever made the decision to come to the Bebop.
***
OK, sorry, that was not exactly a good chapter, but at least I said what needed said. And I have the next chapter all planned out. Yep, I call it my Faye-and-Spike-get-together chapter. I considered making it mushy romance, but that just wouldn't be the Bebop way, now would it? No, no it wouldn't. So expect something dark and subtle. And sorry for the long wait on this chapter, but I was busy.
~val~