Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop or any of its characters.
Saw You Suffer
He wasn't used to this kind of freedom.
He didn't have to look over his shoulder when they walked together side by side. There was no need for whispered meetings or quick getaways. He didn't have to meet her in dark alleyways or hand her secret notes.
None of it was necessary.
If he wanted to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear for her, he didn't have to look around before doing so. And when the urge to touch the small of her back while he passed by her came, he didn't need to worry. This week had been quite the eye-opener for Spike.
He'd never been able to experience any of those things with Julia. The simple joys of being in a relationship had never been granted to them.
Faye and I are... in a relationship?
She was making breakfast, pancakes. Extra fluffy, just the way he liked them. He watched as she wiped her hands on the front of her pants, leaving behind flour handprints. Her hair was gathered at the nape of her neck, wispy bangs framing her small face. He liked the way she was stirring the batter, quickly seeing the pattern she had developed. Her face looked quietly determined as she held the big bowl against her stomach, her other hand stirring deliberately.
Spike watched her from his seat on the couch. They were en route to Callisto, searching for the latest bounty head. Jet's friends from the ISSP had been quite useful the past few weeks. They always had a headstart on the latest bounty news, although it wasn't like the 'Big Shot' days. But perhaps, it was better this way. Since it was harder to find information on the bounties, there was less competition for Jet and Spike.
How much longer can I be a bounty hunter?
Spike had never been one to think about the future. Unless, you counted the daydreams he used to have about the day when he and Julia would finally be reunited. But those dreams were gone.
Now, he didn't seem to have much of a purpose for living. Or dreaming. Or whatever this was. What was there to look forward to?
"There's no more butter, so you'll have to make do," Faye told him as she set down a plate in front of him.
"I've had worse," he replied. And then slowly, he took her hand. Pulling her towards him until Faye was sittng on his lap.
This was all still new. Although, the past week he had been more affectionate, he still hesitated before touching her. When Jet was around, he didn't even sit next to her. They held hands once, and it was only for a minute.
But he held her from behind when they stood alone in the dark. And he kissed the side of her neck every morning to wake her up. When he walked into the room, he would touch her waist, ever so softly, to greet her before doing anything else.
"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked a little indignantly, "I don't want my cooking to go to waste, you know."
"I'm too tired. Feed me."
She rolled her eyes at him, but he just grinned.
"Lunkhead."
For a split second, they were back to their old selves. That familiar teasing came easily, causing a sense of nostalgia in the both of them. Faye, especially, felt it. She'd missed this.
"How old are you?" But she took the plate of food and started to cut the pancakes into little pieces. Raising a forkful up to his mouth, she watched as he opened wide and swallow almost without chewing. She didn't miss the glint of mischief in his eyes. He was enjoying himself.
"You once called me a heartless woman. Do you remember that?" she asked him. She waited for him to stop chewing, his eyes met hers. She was smiling, her eyes reminiscent.
"Yeah, when your old boyfriend showed up. What was his name? Wiley?"
"Whitney."
"Yeah, whatever."
She laughed, placing the now empty plate on the table. She rested an arm around his neck, while the other laid on her lap.
"Did you mean that? About me being heartless?"
It should have sounded reluctant, or fearful. But instead, her question was honest and unfaltering.
He touched her knee, wishing she wasn't wearing long pants.
"You're not heartless, Faye. You're anything but that."
Bringing her hand up to his face, she gave him a smirk. The kind she used to always wear. Sexy and knowing and confident.
Spike leaned forward to kiss her. They pressed their lips together gently. Once, twice. She sighed.
They pulled apart quickly at the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Jet.
"Don't mean to interrupt you two, but we're landing in a few minutes."
Oh, to see the way they blushed. They had jumped to opposite ends of the sofa, their faces burning and turned away from each other. Jet chuckled as he left the room.
Spike stood up first.
"Are you going to stay in again?" he asked, his face now a normal shade of human skin.
"Yeah.. I have some things I need to do."
He looked at her and nodded before heading towards the hangar.
I can't believe Jet saw us...
She couldn't believe the way they'd reacted., like a bunch of teenagers getting caught underneath the bleachers. And it made her ridiculously happy.
When she got up to walk back to her room, there was a sway to her hips that had once been forgotten. A sway that she barely noticed was there.
But it was there.
______________________________________
Always deny what is most important.
That was the rule. That was the law. That was her way.
So when her heart questioned her motives with Spike, she shook her head. Even when her heart accused her of letting a mere man make her feel safe and at home, Faye simply soothed herself with sweet denials. Sweet lies. Funny how easy it was to lead oneself to believe what one only wanted to believe.
But one only had to open her eyes to see the way she was jealous of everything he touched.
The metal of the Swordfish, the chopsticks that held cooked peppers, the cloth of his shirt. Faye could not stand the idea of anything touching him more than she was allowed. It wasn't fair that the arm of the chair got to feel the soft, languid movement of his hand. The same hand that she would have traded her own for.
It was frightening.
She wanted him so much that sometimes she couldn't even look at him.
It was all so strange. When he was not around, she was free. She almost felt truly happy, like she was home. The Bebop was the only place she felt comfortable, even the times Faye felt alone, she was still at ease. The way it was when one was a part of a family. Jet was the overbearing father, the new puppy was her annoying younger sibling...
But then he would appear.
It was ridiculous. One minute, she was lazily kicking her feet up and watching the monitor for interesting soaps. The next minute, her insides were twisted and her eyes fixated on only that lanky figure on the sofa next to her. He always seemed to find a way to shake her.
Just the other day, she had been watching him in the hangar. Spike had not known she was there, hidden in the shadows of the far corner. She had watched him practice his martial art, mesmerized by the swift, cutting movements of his arms and legs. As he finished his workout, he walked towards the exit..
And then he'd done the oddest thing.
He had gone right to the door and kissed it.
Suddenly, Faye had the feeling that she did not have the faintest idea who he was and that she never had.
And she probably never would.
___________________________________
Her heart dropped to her knees when she saw him climb out of the Swordfish. His shoulder was covered in blood, his jacket soaking with the dark liquid.
"Spike!"
She ran to him, panicking. He only lit a cigarette, unwavering nonchalance as she reached him.
"What happened?" she asked. It shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. Her voice shook with scared uncertainty. He hadn't expected her to sound like that.
"I got shot," he explained, as if he were saying 'I got a bug bite.'
Jet came around from the Hammerhead and helped Spike walk back into the main room. Faye followed from behind, her heart only beginning to slow down.
"Shit," Spike muttered as he sat down. Jet crossed his arms and scowled.
"We didn't need this bounty that bad, you know. No need getting yourself shot over something worth a couple woolongs."
"800,000 woolongs," corrected Spike. "And we got him didn't we? That's what matters."
"Shouldn't he go to a doctor?" interrupted Faye.
"I don't trust the ones here on Callisto. Besides, the bullet went right through. We just gotta sew it up."
"Then I'll take care of it," she said.
Faye left the room in search of medical supplies. There was always a box around, full of bandages and antibiotics and sorts. Such a box was necessary when one lived with Spike.
He's as reckless as ever.
There was already a pot of boiled water and strips of cloth sitting on the table when she returned with the box. Jet was always quick with these kind of things.
"You want a drink before we start?" she asked him, "I think that bottle of whiskey is still around."
"It's just a bullet wound. I barely feel it," he stated matter-of-factly as he slowly took off his shirt.
She practically snorted when he said this, but was secretly glad to know that it wasn't much of a serious injury. The bleeding wasn't that bad, now that she took a closer look at it, it had stopped a while ago and was starting to scab. Which meant it was only a flesh wound.
She wet one of the strips of cloth and sat beside him. He sat unflinching as she began to clean off the dried blood. She briefly thought of asking him what happened, but knew better. It was always the same story. Bad guy shot good guy while trying to make a getaway. Or was it bad guy shot not-as-bad guy?
"I'm sick of seeing you full of holes and cuts," she told him.
"Start wearing a blindfold," he countered, turning to face her. He grinned when she glared up at him, trying to blow a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. When she failed, he brushed it back for her.
She started to sew the wound together, it was small, so it only required a few stitches, but since the bullet had done completely through, she would have to sew both the front and back.
"Where'd Jet go?" Faye asked casually, attempting a conversation.
"He's setting our coordinates back to Mars. Or maybe he's with his trees, now."
"Hm."
"Yeah."
They were silent for a moment. The scent of her hair overpowered the sterile musk of the antibiotics. Her nimble fingers causing little currents of warmth over his skin.
"Turn around a little so I can get your back."
She kneeled on the couch, facing his back. It was nice, she thought, strong and sturdy.
Faye started to hum, unknowingly. All her concentration on making tidy little knots, she didn't see the way his body was becoming tense.
"Faye."
His voice was so low, and hoarse. Stopping what she was doing, she leaned in closer to him.
"What is it?"
His shoulders moved up and down in rhythm with his breathing, nervousness spreading through her.
"That time... that time I fell out of the church after fighting Vicious. Do you remember?"
"How could I not?" her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Do you remember when I woke up after that?"
She wished she could see his face as he spoke, but she could only stare at his back.
"You told me I was singing off-key. And I got mad, so I hit you."
The memory brought the faintest of smiles to her face.
"I got injured like that before, when I was still in the Syndicate. I practically dropped dead at her door."
She froze, afraid to do or say anything that would stop him. Or keep him going.
"I was out of it for days. I don't even remember how many times I'd gotten shot that night, but I survived," he continued in a low voice, "I survived because of her. She took me in and took care of my injuries."
Oh, Spike.
"And when I woke up..." his breathing becoming increasingly tremulous, "when I woke up she was humming, and I asked her to keep singing for me."
Faye then realized that he was crying. Her own tears threatening to spill out.
"That was the moment I knew what would happen between us, and I accepted it. I knew there was no turning back from her then."
"Spike."
"That day I woke up, after I fell out of the church, I woke up because you were humming. It was the same song that Julia had sang to me."
She closed her eyes, hot tears running down her face. She laid her hand on his shoulder and more tears shed when he held it.
"I didn't want to hear that song again. I didn't want to feel that way again, so I made you stop."
She held him then, her arms around his shoulders, her face pressed up against the crook of his neck.
"I made you stop," he repeated, "I had to."
They stayed that way for a long time. Her holding him close, his hand over hers.
I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
Faith has been broken, tears must be cried,
Let's do some living after we die
Saw You Suffer
He wasn't used to this kind of freedom.
He didn't have to look over his shoulder when they walked together side by side. There was no need for whispered meetings or quick getaways. He didn't have to meet her in dark alleyways or hand her secret notes.
None of it was necessary.
If he wanted to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear for her, he didn't have to look around before doing so. And when the urge to touch the small of her back while he passed by her came, he didn't need to worry. This week had been quite the eye-opener for Spike.
He'd never been able to experience any of those things with Julia. The simple joys of being in a relationship had never been granted to them.
Faye and I are... in a relationship?
She was making breakfast, pancakes. Extra fluffy, just the way he liked them. He watched as she wiped her hands on the front of her pants, leaving behind flour handprints. Her hair was gathered at the nape of her neck, wispy bangs framing her small face. He liked the way she was stirring the batter, quickly seeing the pattern she had developed. Her face looked quietly determined as she held the big bowl against her stomach, her other hand stirring deliberately.
Spike watched her from his seat on the couch. They were en route to Callisto, searching for the latest bounty head. Jet's friends from the ISSP had been quite useful the past few weeks. They always had a headstart on the latest bounty news, although it wasn't like the 'Big Shot' days. But perhaps, it was better this way. Since it was harder to find information on the bounties, there was less competition for Jet and Spike.
How much longer can I be a bounty hunter?
Spike had never been one to think about the future. Unless, you counted the daydreams he used to have about the day when he and Julia would finally be reunited. But those dreams were gone.
Now, he didn't seem to have much of a purpose for living. Or dreaming. Or whatever this was. What was there to look forward to?
"There's no more butter, so you'll have to make do," Faye told him as she set down a plate in front of him.
"I've had worse," he replied. And then slowly, he took her hand. Pulling her towards him until Faye was sittng on his lap.
This was all still new. Although, the past week he had been more affectionate, he still hesitated before touching her. When Jet was around, he didn't even sit next to her. They held hands once, and it was only for a minute.
But he held her from behind when they stood alone in the dark. And he kissed the side of her neck every morning to wake her up. When he walked into the room, he would touch her waist, ever so softly, to greet her before doing anything else.
"Aren't you going to eat?" she asked a little indignantly, "I don't want my cooking to go to waste, you know."
"I'm too tired. Feed me."
She rolled her eyes at him, but he just grinned.
"Lunkhead."
For a split second, they were back to their old selves. That familiar teasing came easily, causing a sense of nostalgia in the both of them. Faye, especially, felt it. She'd missed this.
"How old are you?" But she took the plate of food and started to cut the pancakes into little pieces. Raising a forkful up to his mouth, she watched as he opened wide and swallow almost without chewing. She didn't miss the glint of mischief in his eyes. He was enjoying himself.
"You once called me a heartless woman. Do you remember that?" she asked him. She waited for him to stop chewing, his eyes met hers. She was smiling, her eyes reminiscent.
"Yeah, when your old boyfriend showed up. What was his name? Wiley?"
"Whitney."
"Yeah, whatever."
She laughed, placing the now empty plate on the table. She rested an arm around his neck, while the other laid on her lap.
"Did you mean that? About me being heartless?"
It should have sounded reluctant, or fearful. But instead, her question was honest and unfaltering.
He touched her knee, wishing she wasn't wearing long pants.
"You're not heartless, Faye. You're anything but that."
Bringing her hand up to his face, she gave him a smirk. The kind she used to always wear. Sexy and knowing and confident.
Spike leaned forward to kiss her. They pressed their lips together gently. Once, twice. She sighed.
They pulled apart quickly at the sound of someone clearing their throat.
Jet.
"Don't mean to interrupt you two, but we're landing in a few minutes."
Oh, to see the way they blushed. They had jumped to opposite ends of the sofa, their faces burning and turned away from each other. Jet chuckled as he left the room.
Spike stood up first.
"Are you going to stay in again?" he asked, his face now a normal shade of human skin.
"Yeah.. I have some things I need to do."
He looked at her and nodded before heading towards the hangar.
I can't believe Jet saw us...
She couldn't believe the way they'd reacted., like a bunch of teenagers getting caught underneath the bleachers. And it made her ridiculously happy.
When she got up to walk back to her room, there was a sway to her hips that had once been forgotten. A sway that she barely noticed was there.
But it was there.
______________________________________
Always deny what is most important.
That was the rule. That was the law. That was her way.
So when her heart questioned her motives with Spike, she shook her head. Even when her heart accused her of letting a mere man make her feel safe and at home, Faye simply soothed herself with sweet denials. Sweet lies. Funny how easy it was to lead oneself to believe what one only wanted to believe.
But one only had to open her eyes to see the way she was jealous of everything he touched.
The metal of the Swordfish, the chopsticks that held cooked peppers, the cloth of his shirt. Faye could not stand the idea of anything touching him more than she was allowed. It wasn't fair that the arm of the chair got to feel the soft, languid movement of his hand. The same hand that she would have traded her own for.
It was frightening.
She wanted him so much that sometimes she couldn't even look at him.
It was all so strange. When he was not around, she was free. She almost felt truly happy, like she was home. The Bebop was the only place she felt comfortable, even the times Faye felt alone, she was still at ease. The way it was when one was a part of a family. Jet was the overbearing father, the new puppy was her annoying younger sibling...
But then he would appear.
It was ridiculous. One minute, she was lazily kicking her feet up and watching the monitor for interesting soaps. The next minute, her insides were twisted and her eyes fixated on only that lanky figure on the sofa next to her. He always seemed to find a way to shake her.
Just the other day, she had been watching him in the hangar. Spike had not known she was there, hidden in the shadows of the far corner. She had watched him practice his martial art, mesmerized by the swift, cutting movements of his arms and legs. As he finished his workout, he walked towards the exit..
And then he'd done the oddest thing.
He had gone right to the door and kissed it.
Suddenly, Faye had the feeling that she did not have the faintest idea who he was and that she never had.
And she probably never would.
___________________________________
Her heart dropped to her knees when she saw him climb out of the Swordfish. His shoulder was covered in blood, his jacket soaking with the dark liquid.
"Spike!"
She ran to him, panicking. He only lit a cigarette, unwavering nonchalance as she reached him.
"What happened?" she asked. It shouldn't have surprised him, but it did. Her voice shook with scared uncertainty. He hadn't expected her to sound like that.
"I got shot," he explained, as if he were saying 'I got a bug bite.'
Jet came around from the Hammerhead and helped Spike walk back into the main room. Faye followed from behind, her heart only beginning to slow down.
"Shit," Spike muttered as he sat down. Jet crossed his arms and scowled.
"We didn't need this bounty that bad, you know. No need getting yourself shot over something worth a couple woolongs."
"800,000 woolongs," corrected Spike. "And we got him didn't we? That's what matters."
"Shouldn't he go to a doctor?" interrupted Faye.
"I don't trust the ones here on Callisto. Besides, the bullet went right through. We just gotta sew it up."
"Then I'll take care of it," she said.
Faye left the room in search of medical supplies. There was always a box around, full of bandages and antibiotics and sorts. Such a box was necessary when one lived with Spike.
He's as reckless as ever.
There was already a pot of boiled water and strips of cloth sitting on the table when she returned with the box. Jet was always quick with these kind of things.
"You want a drink before we start?" she asked him, "I think that bottle of whiskey is still around."
"It's just a bullet wound. I barely feel it," he stated matter-of-factly as he slowly took off his shirt.
She practically snorted when he said this, but was secretly glad to know that it wasn't much of a serious injury. The bleeding wasn't that bad, now that she took a closer look at it, it had stopped a while ago and was starting to scab. Which meant it was only a flesh wound.
She wet one of the strips of cloth and sat beside him. He sat unflinching as she began to clean off the dried blood. She briefly thought of asking him what happened, but knew better. It was always the same story. Bad guy shot good guy while trying to make a getaway. Or was it bad guy shot not-as-bad guy?
"I'm sick of seeing you full of holes and cuts," she told him.
"Start wearing a blindfold," he countered, turning to face her. He grinned when she glared up at him, trying to blow a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. When she failed, he brushed it back for her.
She started to sew the wound together, it was small, so it only required a few stitches, but since the bullet had done completely through, she would have to sew both the front and back.
"Where'd Jet go?" Faye asked casually, attempting a conversation.
"He's setting our coordinates back to Mars. Or maybe he's with his trees, now."
"Hm."
"Yeah."
They were silent for a moment. The scent of her hair overpowered the sterile musk of the antibiotics. Her nimble fingers causing little currents of warmth over his skin.
"Turn around a little so I can get your back."
She kneeled on the couch, facing his back. It was nice, she thought, strong and sturdy.
Faye started to hum, unknowingly. All her concentration on making tidy little knots, she didn't see the way his body was becoming tense.
"Faye."
His voice was so low, and hoarse. Stopping what she was doing, she leaned in closer to him.
"What is it?"
His shoulders moved up and down in rhythm with his breathing, nervousness spreading through her.
"That time... that time I fell out of the church after fighting Vicious. Do you remember?"
"How could I not?" her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Do you remember when I woke up after that?"
She wished she could see his face as he spoke, but she could only stare at his back.
"You told me I was singing off-key. And I got mad, so I hit you."
The memory brought the faintest of smiles to her face.
"I got injured like that before, when I was still in the Syndicate. I practically dropped dead at her door."
She froze, afraid to do or say anything that would stop him. Or keep him going.
"I was out of it for days. I don't even remember how many times I'd gotten shot that night, but I survived," he continued in a low voice, "I survived because of her. She took me in and took care of my injuries."
Oh, Spike.
"And when I woke up..." his breathing becoming increasingly tremulous, "when I woke up she was humming, and I asked her to keep singing for me."
Faye then realized that he was crying. Her own tears threatening to spill out.
"That was the moment I knew what would happen between us, and I accepted it. I knew there was no turning back from her then."
"Spike."
"That day I woke up, after I fell out of the church, I woke up because you were humming. It was the same song that Julia had sang to me."
She closed her eyes, hot tears running down her face. She laid her hand on his shoulder and more tears shed when he held it.
"I didn't want to hear that song again. I didn't want to feel that way again, so I made you stop."
She held him then, her arms around his shoulders, her face pressed up against the crook of his neck.
"I made you stop," he repeated, "I had to."
They stayed that way for a long time. Her holding him close, his hand over hers.
I watched you suffer a dull, aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
Faith has been broken, tears must be cried,
Let's do some living after we die