Sei
By Nix Winter
Disclaimers: I do not own Cowboy Bebop, not the world nor the characters Warnings: This story is set after the series. Spike doesn't die and I don't have nearly good enough handle on the Bebop world, but I was having fun and that's the point. Hope you enjoy, if not, gomen nasai. And it will likely be a yaoi fic, though not Jet/Spike.
Sei
No one wants to be alone. By the time one accepts the aloneness, it's either just a matter of waiting to die or of just pretending that need's not there anymore. Spike really didn't know which it was for him, but when he thought about it, it was just waiting to die. The kid and the dog were gone, though he got emails from her every month or so. Julia was gone and she didn't send emails. Jet had found Spike in a hotel room, more than half dead with untreated wounds and a soul that didn't know how to leave the body.
Spike was Jet's partner and for better or worse, he'd always come to find his friend, or he would if he knew where to look for him. Jet set the plate of food on the table and shoved it a little closer. "It's got beef in it, Spike."
That lifted Spike's chin a little, but didn't bring any life to those dark eyes. Jet tried not to grind his teeth. He'd had the nightmare again. That was why he'd broken out the beef for Spike. The nightmare of when he'd found Spike, after much searching, found the tall man laying naked on the hotel bed, blood stained the sheets, darkened even the bruises on the body, dried over pale skin. Jet didn't think he'd ever forget wrapping that body in the bedspread, lifting it in his arms. It had been Spike's business, what he did, but jet had found that it was his as well. "Green peppers and beef, Spike."
"Jet," Spike said, his voice very soft, "How long have I been here?"
Jet dropped his chopsticks. "Spike!"
Those long fingers sought his own chopsticks, the scent of beef and spice actually touching him this time, making his mouth less dry. "How long?"
"Eleven months." Jet picked up his and chased around in his food without much success. Spike hadn't spoken in all the time he'd been back on the Bebop. He'd wander around the ship as if he were looking for something, worked his katas slowly, for hours, days at a time, it seemed sometimes. "Talk to me, Spike, talk to me."
"I don't know what to say," he said, then lifted a strip of beef to his mouth. Jet's cooking wasn't great, but it wasn't bad, and for the first time in so long he couldn't remember, the sauce, pepper and ginger and beef flavor tasted good. It spread out over his tongue as he pressed the bit to the roof of his mouth. The sat in silence as he chewed that one, swallowed, sucked a green pepper into mush. "I'm really alive?"
"Yeah, Spike," Jet said, "You're alive."
"Why? I thought all the heroes died at the end of the story." Then there was a sip of tea. "Julia's dead. Her breathing slipped away, just like I wasn't holding her."
One of the servos in Jet's elbow stiffened and he flexed his arm to get it limber again. "You ain't a hero, Spike, like some guy in a story. We're just real folks. There ain't nothing fancy about death. It only makes everything before it okay because people don't like to talk bad about the dead. Creeps them out."
"Yeah, I guess," Spike said and Jet thought there was something a bit more alive in the voice, the words. "I thought I died when she left me."
"Yeah," Jet said, agreeing as he thought about his own lost lover. "But then you find out they got big mortgage and they still want some skinny little shit."
"But you got the bounty."
"Yeah, I got the bounty. And you cooked for a week while I sulked."
"It's been eleven months. I was just waiting to die, you know? When I went to fight Vicious. He was my friend and my partner."
"Seems like he was an asshole to me." Jet shoved the last half of his food onto Spike's plate. Spike lifted an eyebrow, then stirred it all together and didn't object.
"We were partners, fought back to back."
"You killed him."
"Yeah. And her too, at least because of me." Spike poured himself some more tea. "What am I supposed to wait for now?"
"Life ain't about waiting," Jet said, remembering how he'd felt when he threw that watch into the water. "Life's about what's going on now, about beef and friends, bonsai and hell if I know what it's about. It's about enjoying what one's got."
"It hurts." Spike said, closing his eyes, drawing small circles in the ginger sauce with the ends of his chopsticks. "At first I knew the pain was just because my body was fucked up, and I thought the pain would stop. I thought I'd wake up one day and get up off the couch and it wouldn't hurt. Julia and Vicious are dead. I don't belong alive. I think I hurt because I'm supposed to be a ghost."
"You wouldn't be eating beef if you were supposed to be a ghost. I don't know what you're supposed to do, but you're alive, so you better eat your food before it get cold, cuz I ain't gonna warm it up for you."
Spike started really working on his food. Between bites, he asked, "Faye?"
"Went home. Stole one of my trees."
Almost as intense as the first taste of ginger and pepper, the small laugh seemed to lift him up inside, to gray out the black that shrouded him. "She liked me."
"Yeah, but I didn't tell her I found you. You could shock the shit out of her, if you wanted."
Spike felt guilty when he realized he was smiling. Like the laser on the Swordfish II, healing seemed to have charged and then fired off it's blast all at once. "I'd probably just find her running around with some little guy, or some chick, and in debt up to her eyebrows. How come everyone gets with someone 'cept us?"
"Speak for yourself," Jet said, leaning back on the couch and watching across the table, accessing by habit how Spike was doing physically. "I have my trees."
Spike pressed a finger to his temple, made a funny face, as if that comment were giving him odd images.
"Now Spike!" Jet said, feeling quite uncomfortable with where this conversation were going, not even thinking about how really very normal it was and that he'd been waiting for nearly a year to hear Spike's voice in anything other than protests and cries in nightmares.
"Jet." Spike reproved him, then finished off the meal. "It's not like I'm hitting on you."
"I'm glad you're back. I missed you."
Spike stood, stretched, long arms going over head, back arching. "I was kind of gone for awhile? I don't remember, Jet. I don't remember anything from when I fell down the stairs until you put that beef in front of me, not really anyway. It's all gray, like it wasn't really me."
"Well, now you're back," Jet said, grinning as he set his plate down on top of Spike's empty one. "Your turn to do the dishes."
That brought a snort from Spike, but he stood and took the dishes with him. Yeah, he was alive, and he wasn't a hero, just a person. Heroes didn't come back from the dead and get told to do the dishes. No, that was just the real folk's kinda of blues. "We oughta get a dog."
"Are you possessed," Jet asked Spike's back.
"Yeah, maybe. I wanna get a dog."
"No kids."
"No women."
"Okay, we can get a dog." Jet agreed.
Chapter Two Getting a dog
Neither of them wanted to go to Mars or Ganymede, and despite what that woman had said, *** dogs weren't all that common nor were they cheap.
It didn't seem like a big deal to Jet, Spike's hunt for a dog, but it kept the man busy and distracted from problems that Jet knew weren't going to get solved. There was a lot of relief in having Spike moving around, talking, complaining, even playing music again. Jet had started to wonder if the man were ever going to come out of the half comatose state he had stayed in for so long.
Disclaimers: I do not own Cowboy Bebop, not the world nor the characters Warnings: This story is set after the series. Spike doesn't die and I don't have nearly good enough handle on the Bebop world, but I was having fun and that's the point. Hope you enjoy, if not, gomen nasai. And it will likely be a yaoi fic, though not Jet/Spike.
Sei
No one wants to be alone. By the time one accepts the aloneness, it's either just a matter of waiting to die or of just pretending that need's not there anymore. Spike really didn't know which it was for him, but when he thought about it, it was just waiting to die. The kid and the dog were gone, though he got emails from her every month or so. Julia was gone and she didn't send emails. Jet had found Spike in a hotel room, more than half dead with untreated wounds and a soul that didn't know how to leave the body.
Spike was Jet's partner and for better or worse, he'd always come to find his friend, or he would if he knew where to look for him. Jet set the plate of food on the table and shoved it a little closer. "It's got beef in it, Spike."
That lifted Spike's chin a little, but didn't bring any life to those dark eyes. Jet tried not to grind his teeth. He'd had the nightmare again. That was why he'd broken out the beef for Spike. The nightmare of when he'd found Spike, after much searching, found the tall man laying naked on the hotel bed, blood stained the sheets, darkened even the bruises on the body, dried over pale skin. Jet didn't think he'd ever forget wrapping that body in the bedspread, lifting it in his arms. It had been Spike's business, what he did, but jet had found that it was his as well. "Green peppers and beef, Spike."
"Jet," Spike said, his voice very soft, "How long have I been here?"
Jet dropped his chopsticks. "Spike!"
Those long fingers sought his own chopsticks, the scent of beef and spice actually touching him this time, making his mouth less dry. "How long?"
"Eleven months." Jet picked up his and chased around in his food without much success. Spike hadn't spoken in all the time he'd been back on the Bebop. He'd wander around the ship as if he were looking for something, worked his katas slowly, for hours, days at a time, it seemed sometimes. "Talk to me, Spike, talk to me."
"I don't know what to say," he said, then lifted a strip of beef to his mouth. Jet's cooking wasn't great, but it wasn't bad, and for the first time in so long he couldn't remember, the sauce, pepper and ginger and beef flavor tasted good. It spread out over his tongue as he pressed the bit to the roof of his mouth. The sat in silence as he chewed that one, swallowed, sucked a green pepper into mush. "I'm really alive?"
"Yeah, Spike," Jet said, "You're alive."
"Why? I thought all the heroes died at the end of the story." Then there was a sip of tea. "Julia's dead. Her breathing slipped away, just like I wasn't holding her."
One of the servos in Jet's elbow stiffened and he flexed his arm to get it limber again. "You ain't a hero, Spike, like some guy in a story. We're just real folks. There ain't nothing fancy about death. It only makes everything before it okay because people don't like to talk bad about the dead. Creeps them out."
"Yeah, I guess," Spike said and Jet thought there was something a bit more alive in the voice, the words. "I thought I died when she left me."
"Yeah," Jet said, agreeing as he thought about his own lost lover. "But then you find out they got big mortgage and they still want some skinny little shit."
"But you got the bounty."
"Yeah, I got the bounty. And you cooked for a week while I sulked."
"It's been eleven months. I was just waiting to die, you know? When I went to fight Vicious. He was my friend and my partner."
"Seems like he was an asshole to me." Jet shoved the last half of his food onto Spike's plate. Spike lifted an eyebrow, then stirred it all together and didn't object.
"We were partners, fought back to back."
"You killed him."
"Yeah. And her too, at least because of me." Spike poured himself some more tea. "What am I supposed to wait for now?"
"Life ain't about waiting," Jet said, remembering how he'd felt when he threw that watch into the water. "Life's about what's going on now, about beef and friends, bonsai and hell if I know what it's about. It's about enjoying what one's got."
"It hurts." Spike said, closing his eyes, drawing small circles in the ginger sauce with the ends of his chopsticks. "At first I knew the pain was just because my body was fucked up, and I thought the pain would stop. I thought I'd wake up one day and get up off the couch and it wouldn't hurt. Julia and Vicious are dead. I don't belong alive. I think I hurt because I'm supposed to be a ghost."
"You wouldn't be eating beef if you were supposed to be a ghost. I don't know what you're supposed to do, but you're alive, so you better eat your food before it get cold, cuz I ain't gonna warm it up for you."
Spike started really working on his food. Between bites, he asked, "Faye?"
"Went home. Stole one of my trees."
Almost as intense as the first taste of ginger and pepper, the small laugh seemed to lift him up inside, to gray out the black that shrouded him. "She liked me."
"Yeah, but I didn't tell her I found you. You could shock the shit out of her, if you wanted."
Spike felt guilty when he realized he was smiling. Like the laser on the Swordfish II, healing seemed to have charged and then fired off it's blast all at once. "I'd probably just find her running around with some little guy, or some chick, and in debt up to her eyebrows. How come everyone gets with someone 'cept us?"
"Speak for yourself," Jet said, leaning back on the couch and watching across the table, accessing by habit how Spike was doing physically. "I have my trees."
Spike pressed a finger to his temple, made a funny face, as if that comment were giving him odd images.
"Now Spike!" Jet said, feeling quite uncomfortable with where this conversation were going, not even thinking about how really very normal it was and that he'd been waiting for nearly a year to hear Spike's voice in anything other than protests and cries in nightmares.
"Jet." Spike reproved him, then finished off the meal. "It's not like I'm hitting on you."
"I'm glad you're back. I missed you."
Spike stood, stretched, long arms going over head, back arching. "I was kind of gone for awhile? I don't remember, Jet. I don't remember anything from when I fell down the stairs until you put that beef in front of me, not really anyway. It's all gray, like it wasn't really me."
"Well, now you're back," Jet said, grinning as he set his plate down on top of Spike's empty one. "Your turn to do the dishes."
That brought a snort from Spike, but he stood and took the dishes with him. Yeah, he was alive, and he wasn't a hero, just a person. Heroes didn't come back from the dead and get told to do the dishes. No, that was just the real folk's kinda of blues. "We oughta get a dog."
"Are you possessed," Jet asked Spike's back.
"Yeah, maybe. I wanna get a dog."
"No kids."
"No women."
"Okay, we can get a dog." Jet agreed.
Chapter Two Getting a dog
Neither of them wanted to go to Mars or Ganymede, and despite what that woman had said, *** dogs weren't all that common nor were they cheap.
It didn't seem like a big deal to Jet, Spike's hunt for a dog, but it kept the man busy and distracted from problems that Jet knew weren't going to get solved. There was a lot of relief in having Spike moving around, talking, complaining, even playing music again. Jet had started to wonder if the man were ever going to come out of the half comatose state he had stayed in for so long.
