Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop or any of its characters.
State The Terms
Faye
It's strange.
The moment we stopped touching, it was as if nothing had happened.
No, that's not true. Something had definitely happened, because right now, Spike and I are lying next to each other on my bed. We're both staring at the ceiling, sheets drawn up to cover our bodies.
Strange.
Just a few minutes ago, we were holding onto each other like it would kill us to do otherwise. I'm sure I left scratch marks down his back. My lips were swollen, his probably were, too.
I know he's awake.
The thing is, I'm not really sure how this all came to be. When everything was normal, or at least, normal to us, I didn't feel this way about Spike. He was just this guy that I lived and worked with...
...and cared about.
We always fought and there were times where I really thought I wanted to wring his neck, but I cared about him. I never wanted him to get hurt, and I hated it when he came back half dead. Which he did fairly often.
I guess I had a crush on him.
Not that I had wanted to be his girlfriend, but I just really admired him. He was so damn good at everything. He always knew how to handle himself. I respected that. Grudgingly.
They say you become attracted to those who have the qualities in which you lack.
And Spike had everything I lacked. A past, an iron grip on his emotions, power. Yeah, he had power. He just knew how to get the upper hand with the people around him. He could be charming, menacing, and ridiculously clever... all at the same time. Women love men like that.
But now...
I don't have a crush on him anymore. That's for sure. I'd spent all this time not thinking about him, forgetting that Spike Spiegel ever existed. To be completely honest, it wasn't as hard as you'd expect. There was so much else going on with me that Spike kind of took a backseat to it all.
I remembered my parents. My friends. My house. My school.
And then I remembered it all disappearing. Everything I ever had came back to me, only for it to be taken away quicker than it had appeared.
That's when I started to become crazy.
Faye Valentine the Bounty Hunter was me, but she wasn't. Neither was the Faye Before the Accident. You see, they're both me, but all they do is bring conflict and confusion. I have these two extremes inside of me, but no middle ground.
Hotheaded, loudmouthed Faye vs. Sweet, well-mannered Faye.
So I spend most of my time being neither. I just ignore it all.
I try not to feel.
And I was getting quite good at it... until he came back.
I have this crazy part inside of me. It makes me think all these weird thoughts. Thoughts I would die before revealing to anyone else. I imagine myself being killed, or tortured. Sometimes I spend hours in bed, just thinking of all the ways my life can be taken away from me.
I'm crazy.
I think about hurting myself. Just to see what would happen.
Nothing really matters. I have nothing. I am nothing.
What is there to live for anymore?
I don't know.
I'm not afraid to die. I'm just going through the motions of living life.
But I want this to change. I want to be happy.
I know I can be.
I just don't know how.
________________________
Spike
I was supposed to tell her that we needed to stop acting like idiots and start getting our acts together.
That's what I had forgotten to say.
But instead, I kissed her. And now, we're in her bed. Naked.
I always end up making things harder than then have to be.
________________________
It only took the slightest shift from her side of the bed for him to reach out for her. Pulling her towards him, they laid in silence in each other's arms. It was still dark outside, morning would not yet bring its consequences.
"We're so young."
She whispered it, her head tucked beneath his chin.
"But we're so old," she continued, her voice low, "I've been in this world for so long. I should have passed on by now."
He listened, his fingertips trailing up and down the smoothness of her back.
"And you, Spike. You've lived more than once. How many times have you died?"
"Too many," he answered grimly.
She lazily traced small circles on his shoulder, her eyes staring but not seeing.
"What are people like us supposed to do? We can never have normal lives."
"Normal sounds boring to me," Spike replied, smiling.
She sighed.
"Normal is wonderful. I knew what it meant once, Spike. Normal means family."
"We're young, remember? We've got plenty of time to figure out what to do with our lives."
"I wish I was dead."
He paused, understanding the wish, but fighting against it.
"The more you want to meet death, the more it keeps you alive. I would know."
He sounded bitter. Faye lifted her head slightly so she could kiss the side of his jaw. He held her closer.
"I'm looking for somewhere to belong. And this isn't it, Spike."
He touched her hair, letting it fall through his fingers.
"I know."
"And you're going to leave again. And you won't come back"
He didn't answer.
Faye took a deep breath, closing her eyes.
"I'll ask you for one thing, then."
"What is it?"
Pulling away from him, she let her eyes meet his. Her hand touched the side of his face gently.
"When you leave me-"
"Faye, I-"
"Just let me finish, Spike. Please?"
Taking his silence as a sign, she gathered her thoughts, realizing how important it was for her to choose her words carefully.
"When you leave me, don't apologize. Don't give me any pretty words. Don't make me any promises."
Spike searched her eyes, they only showed a sort of deep resignation. Like a frontline soldier accepting his death.
"This won't be about flowers and love letters. We're passed that."
"Then what will this be about?"
"Belonging."
"Faye."
"For the time that we have, I want to belong to you. And you to me."
"What about when our time is up?"
"Then we say good-bye."
"Good-bye. That's it...no pretty words."
"No pretty words."
No pretty words.
State The Terms
Faye
It's strange.
The moment we stopped touching, it was as if nothing had happened.
No, that's not true. Something had definitely happened, because right now, Spike and I are lying next to each other on my bed. We're both staring at the ceiling, sheets drawn up to cover our bodies.
Strange.
Just a few minutes ago, we were holding onto each other like it would kill us to do otherwise. I'm sure I left scratch marks down his back. My lips were swollen, his probably were, too.
I know he's awake.
The thing is, I'm not really sure how this all came to be. When everything was normal, or at least, normal to us, I didn't feel this way about Spike. He was just this guy that I lived and worked with...
...and cared about.
We always fought and there were times where I really thought I wanted to wring his neck, but I cared about him. I never wanted him to get hurt, and I hated it when he came back half dead. Which he did fairly often.
I guess I had a crush on him.
Not that I had wanted to be his girlfriend, but I just really admired him. He was so damn good at everything. He always knew how to handle himself. I respected that. Grudgingly.
They say you become attracted to those who have the qualities in which you lack.
And Spike had everything I lacked. A past, an iron grip on his emotions, power. Yeah, he had power. He just knew how to get the upper hand with the people around him. He could be charming, menacing, and ridiculously clever... all at the same time. Women love men like that.
But now...
I don't have a crush on him anymore. That's for sure. I'd spent all this time not thinking about him, forgetting that Spike Spiegel ever existed. To be completely honest, it wasn't as hard as you'd expect. There was so much else going on with me that Spike kind of took a backseat to it all.
I remembered my parents. My friends. My house. My school.
And then I remembered it all disappearing. Everything I ever had came back to me, only for it to be taken away quicker than it had appeared.
That's when I started to become crazy.
Faye Valentine the Bounty Hunter was me, but she wasn't. Neither was the Faye Before the Accident. You see, they're both me, but all they do is bring conflict and confusion. I have these two extremes inside of me, but no middle ground.
Hotheaded, loudmouthed Faye vs. Sweet, well-mannered Faye.
So I spend most of my time being neither. I just ignore it all.
I try not to feel.
And I was getting quite good at it... until he came back.
I have this crazy part inside of me. It makes me think all these weird thoughts. Thoughts I would die before revealing to anyone else. I imagine myself being killed, or tortured. Sometimes I spend hours in bed, just thinking of all the ways my life can be taken away from me.
I'm crazy.
I think about hurting myself. Just to see what would happen.
Nothing really matters. I have nothing. I am nothing.
What is there to live for anymore?
I don't know.
I'm not afraid to die. I'm just going through the motions of living life.
But I want this to change. I want to be happy.
I know I can be.
I just don't know how.
________________________
Spike
I was supposed to tell her that we needed to stop acting like idiots and start getting our acts together.
That's what I had forgotten to say.
But instead, I kissed her. And now, we're in her bed. Naked.
I always end up making things harder than then have to be.
________________________
It only took the slightest shift from her side of the bed for him to reach out for her. Pulling her towards him, they laid in silence in each other's arms. It was still dark outside, morning would not yet bring its consequences.
"We're so young."
She whispered it, her head tucked beneath his chin.
"But we're so old," she continued, her voice low, "I've been in this world for so long. I should have passed on by now."
He listened, his fingertips trailing up and down the smoothness of her back.
"And you, Spike. You've lived more than once. How many times have you died?"
"Too many," he answered grimly.
She lazily traced small circles on his shoulder, her eyes staring but not seeing.
"What are people like us supposed to do? We can never have normal lives."
"Normal sounds boring to me," Spike replied, smiling.
She sighed.
"Normal is wonderful. I knew what it meant once, Spike. Normal means family."
"We're young, remember? We've got plenty of time to figure out what to do with our lives."
"I wish I was dead."
He paused, understanding the wish, but fighting against it.
"The more you want to meet death, the more it keeps you alive. I would know."
He sounded bitter. Faye lifted her head slightly so she could kiss the side of his jaw. He held her closer.
"I'm looking for somewhere to belong. And this isn't it, Spike."
He touched her hair, letting it fall through his fingers.
"I know."
"And you're going to leave again. And you won't come back"
He didn't answer.
Faye took a deep breath, closing her eyes.
"I'll ask you for one thing, then."
"What is it?"
Pulling away from him, she let her eyes meet his. Her hand touched the side of his face gently.
"When you leave me-"
"Faye, I-"
"Just let me finish, Spike. Please?"
Taking his silence as a sign, she gathered her thoughts, realizing how important it was for her to choose her words carefully.
"When you leave me, don't apologize. Don't give me any pretty words. Don't make me any promises."
Spike searched her eyes, they only showed a sort of deep resignation. Like a frontline soldier accepting his death.
"This won't be about flowers and love letters. We're passed that."
"Then what will this be about?"
"Belonging."
"Faye."
"For the time that we have, I want to belong to you. And you to me."
"What about when our time is up?"
"Then we say good-bye."
"Good-bye. That's it...no pretty words."
"No pretty words."
No pretty words.