I don't own Cowboy Bebop.
Sorry for the long wait (summer school had me in it's death grip). Anyway, this is the EVIL ENDING! If you don't want to read the EVIL ENDING! then please go to the next chapter.
=Every New Day (Part IIA)=
--Clear the area!
Light after light. She stared at the sources that hung in rows above her head. Every other moment, they would flash by her, sneer at her with their phosphorescent glare. She wanted to wince at their direction, to scoff, but she didn't have enough breath to do it.
--Damn it, she's not breathing!
Breathing? A white coat flashed before her eyes and within minutes, she felt someone's breath invade her mouth. She wanted to wrinkle her nose at the hint of cheese like substance in the someone's breath, but found she couldn't.
--Get her into that room quickly!
--There's someone already in there.
--It doesn't matter. They're still unconscious.
People flashed over her face. Several faces that she didn't recognize stared passively at her.
Machines were hooked up around her and to her body. The soft study beat of one, kept ringing in her ears, making sure that she was still alive. She tried to look up at the monitor, but found it difficult. It was as if her body didn't want to move. What was she doing?
--Do you know what happened to her?
Answers!
--I don't know.
Crap.
==2:00 in the morning, docked in a bay in Mars==
"Spike." She murmured in her sleep.
Jet stood outside the doorway to her room. Two long weeks of suffering! She spent most of her days in her room, in bed and staring at nothing. At night, he could hear her crying out his name, as if she relived the moment over and over.
When she did come out of her room, she looked like crap. Her hair, which hadn't seen the likes of a brush in weeks, was a tangled mass above her head. Her eyes, red and bloodshot, had bags under them that showed her lack of sleep. Her mouth, was always down turned…always unhappy. She would wander the Bebop in her robe and sometimes, when she thought he wasn't looking, slip into Spike's room, where she would fall asleep.
Her strength, he realized, had left her.
Reaching into the room, he switched off the light. "Night, Faye."
=2:39 AM=
"Spike!"
She realized what he had done. Why?!
She turned around and stared at the skeleton of the building--it was the only thing left. Pieces of debris were scattered along the ground. Faye ran up to the building and began shoving off each piece, but found nothing.
"Spike!" she cried as she kicked up dust. She ventured further into the wreckage, her hands getting cut up and blood dripped down her finger tips, hitting the ground with a thud. She stopped instantly, hearing the thud echo inside her mind.
Again, it sounded and she turned around. It began to get louder as she walked, and more constant like the sound of a heart beat. Then, as she was about to walk past a tree stump, the sound stopped. It was so nerve racking, not being able to listen to anything.
Stopping in her tracks, she saw it. There was a mangled hand, sticking out from under a beam. She forced herself to walk toward it and lift it up.
She couldn't scream. It was all she wanted to do, but she just couldn't. She bent over the form, crushed under the weight of the beams. It's face was twisted in pain and it's eyes were falling from the sockets. Faye tentatively touched the cheek. It was cold and slippery, as if it were shedding tears. "No…"
As she drew back, the mangled form's hand shot out and grabbed her. "Useless woman," it whispered.
=2:48 AM=
Faye jumped out of bed and threw her sheets aside. What the--?
She was breathing heavily and she couldn't stop shaking. Anger replaced her normal solemn attitude and she began throwing anything that she could touch. Clocks, shoes, clothes, pillows, they all flew about her room as she cursed and cried.
She was alive and Spike was dead. What was the point? She could still feel his hands shove her outside the door. His hands…they were so rough, so strong. "Damn it!"
Finally, she collapsed into a fit of sobs, hating herself for crying, and hating herself for not mourning even more.
She stood and stumbled down the hallway to Jet's office. She saw him working intently on one of his beloved trees. She watched him for a moment, seeing the tired, warn out eyes. She bit her lip and said, "I'm sorry, Jet. I'm just going out for a walk."
Jet nodded, thinking why she didn't say her usual, "I'll be back," and knowing why she left it out.
She didn't wait for him to reply. She staggered down the remaining hallway and left the Bebop.
The night air was cool against her hot skin. She glanced down several streets, picked one, and began to walk. She was oblivious to the soft splatter of water against her bare arms as she walked unseeingly down her path.
The past came back to haunt her. She didn't want to remember, but when she tried to suppress one memory, another would take it's place. By the time she broke out of her reverie, it was pouring outside. Just my luck, she thought sourly.
She searched for some sort of shelter and saw a neon sign flashing on a small building. Existence, said the sign. Faye glared around the whole street. Existence appeared to be the only thing open.
She entered, soaked, and looked around. It was a bar, that much she could tell. A few people were scattered about the room, chatting and arguing and a band was playing some twentieth century song that she had heard once or twice as a child.
She felt the alcohol call her name and was immediately picking a seat at the bar. She sat down and caught the bartender's attention.
"What's your poison?"
It took all of her will power not to roll her eyes at that cliché. "Something with high alcohol content," she murmured.
The bartender nodded and went in search of the perfect drink. She sat quietly for a moment and let the band's music fill her emptiness.
Faye frowned as the bartender tossed her a clear liquid. She picked up the glass and took a shot. It burned down her throat and made her splutter and cough. She held the empty glass to the bartender. "Another one."
It wasn't long before she could feel the affects of alcohol perverting her system. She began to babble incoherent words.
"It sucks," she began as the bartender poured her more of the clear liquid.
"What does," a stranger, who had walked up to the bar as she talked, asked. He took a sip of his drink and stared at Faye. His nose twitched at the smell of liquor in her mouth.
"Life and everything in it. What's the point to living from day to day if we're all fated to die?" Faye shook her head and felt her eyes burn.
"There's more to life then death," the bartender replied as he poured a drink for the stranger.
"Not much more," said Faye.
"Do you really believe that?" the stranger asked.
Faye shrugged and took another shot. "Maybe," she replied. She turned to the bartender. "More, and keep it coming."
The stranger watched her. "You've had enough."
Faye glanced at the stranger beneath her lashes. Her eyebrows drew down creating harsh shadows on her face. "And who are you to judge?"
"Does it really matter?" The stranger turned his head away and plopped his hat on his head. "Look, go back home, kid. I'm sure someone there misses you."
The stranger turned and left her by herself. Faye dropped the glass in her hand. Spike? She turned and ran out into the rain, after the stranger. Tripping on loose gravel, her arms flailed out and grabbed the man on the sleeve. He turned around, the wind whipping his hat off of his head.
For a moment, they stared at each other. His eyebrow quirked up in question. "Yes?" he asked, his black hair falling below his blue eyes.
Faye took a few steps back. "N--nothing," she stammered. She took a few steps back and turned away.
Crap! Crap, crap, crap, crap, CRAP! I can't stop thinking about him! Faye grabbed her head, shaking in anger as she turned another corner.
And, as if fate had brought her there, she stood in front of her answer. She touched the window of the store, staring at a thief who was holding up another man. Reaching for her gun, she frowned and staggered into the store. She needed more alcohol.
=5:00AM=
Jet heard a sharp ring pierce through the quietness. He jumped up, grabbing the phone and hoping that it was Faye. It wasn't.
"The hell?" Jet murmured as he stared into the video linked phone.
"Are you associated with Faye Valentine?"
=6:35 AM=
"--been drinking. The alcohol and all the bullets that the man shot into her body affected her really bad. It also seems like she doesn't want to live anymore."
Jet nodded, listening to the doctor carefully. "Well, what can you do to save her?"
The doctor sighed and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. "Nothing. It's all up to her."
=7:19 AM=
The hum of the machine was what woke her up. She shifted slightly in her bed, wondering what was going on. She felt pain tear at her from her stomach and arm. Something? Something important happened yesterday…she just couldn't remembmer. She sighed, letting the feel of sleep consume her once more.
=7:30AM=
"Wake up…"
Faye heard the voice softly in her ears. It was gentle like a soft breeze…almost fatherly. It felt like Jet's voice…
"Wake up."
She wanted to shake her head. She wanted to crawl back into her sleep. She didn't want to feel anything anymore. Everything…it all had to be a dream! She wanted to be back in her large bedroom, listening to the waves hitting the shore or with Spike. Without him... She wanted to be…She wanted to be…
"Wake up."
She wanted to be dead.
The beat of the machine slowed until it was just a long hum. Flat line.
Doctors came into the room, spreading around her body. Jet watched in horror as people tried to perform a miracle.
=8:28 AM=
Jet stared at the dead body of Faye Valentine as the last of the doctors left. He came to the foot of the bed, touching her still warm shoulder, and whispered something softly.
"Could you keep it down in there?" came a low drawl that burst through Jet's words.
Jet, angry, glared at the person behind the curtain next to Faye's bed. "Listen, jack hole--" he shoved open the curtain and stared into a pair of mismatched, rusty, brown eyes…
=End Chapter=
Thank you to everyone who took the time to read this story. Your reviews made me keep going and writing as well as enjoy writing. I hope that this ending was evil enough for all those who cared/wanted the evil ending and I made it long to make up for my MIA for so long.
