Disclaimers: None of the Cowboy Bebop crew are mine. Boo hoo

Rating: PG-13…because I'm a potty mouth _

Something Beautiful

Hard days made me
Hard nights shaped me
I don't know they somehow saved me
I won't look down
Won't say I'm sorry
I know that only god can judge me
And if I make it through today
Will tomorrow be the same?
Am I just running in place?
And if I stumble and I fall
Should I get up and carry on?
Will it all just be the same?

-Good Charlotte "The Young and the Hopeless"

Chapter Three: Watching

The light flickered on and off, briefly illuminating the dank apartment in sporadic spurts, as a tense figure slammed the door open, ripped the molding curtains shut, and began to furiously pace about the dirty confines of the room. His anger was so tangible that it permeated the peeling walls like condensed rage. He could barely contain that barest thread of control over himself as it was, but when he thought of her… He let lose an enraged growl. He wanted desperately to hurt her: break bones and tear flesh until she bent to his hand and submitted to his will. His lip curled in disgust as he replayed the images of her whoring herself, her beautiful body indecently revealed to lustful, wandering eyes. No one was allowed to watch except him. Only him.

He indulged himself by fantasizing about how it should be. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to turn to, except in each other. It was time to give her a lesson. She must remember, he thought as he stroked his cheek lightly, feeling the crashing waves of his ire calm to a more sedate, but ever present wrath. His features twisted into a sadistic smile as he sat down at his workbench and got to work on his newest inspiration.

It was time to come into contact with the femme fatale known as Faye Valentine. Time to get her to recognize him and reciprocate all of the love he had bestowed upon her. He looked up at all of the pictures he had plastered on the wall, from her walking to shooting to arguing to grinning. It was all there. Unlike those damn crewmembers, and the other filth that she insisted on surrounding herself with, he was the only one that understood her. Just like she would understand him. He would make her understand.

He looked at one shot of her in particular when she was lounging on a sofa; those long legs reclined on the upholstery and revealing miles of smooth silky skin. He caressed the image with clammy fingers, and chuckled darkly. "It'll be just the two of us," he promised her softly, "I'll make sure of it."

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"Damn it to hell!"

Everything hurt all over. The arthritic cracking of joints, painful soreness, pinched nerves, and dull headache culminated in one evil hangover. Faye felt, and knew that she looked like absolute shit. Probably worse than that, she decided disgustedly as she limply tried to maneuver over to the toilet bowl before she hurled more stomach acid.

When she finally felt composed enough to steadily walk in her boots, she hightailed it, leaving little more than a brief nod to the owner of the bar, who had been kind enough to allow her to sleep off her hangover in the back workroom. When she had asked why, he flashed a smile reminiscent of Spike's, and merely replied, "Shit looked better." Faye groaned, disturbed by the uncanny likeness, and left to escape his less than rapier wit.

Once she was up in the air, she placed the Redtail in autopilot, and gazed down thoughtfully at the rapidly shrinking civilization. Earth had more pock marks from meteors than metropolises nowadays, and the surface from above tended to resemble a blown up image of a hormonal, pimply teen. And what a pathetic sight that is, Faye thought as she wrinkled her nose. But for some reason, it didn't incite the shame that she had been brought up on the trashed planet as expected. Instead, she felt the reawakening of something inside that was curiously saddened by the prospect of leaving. Although the memories hadn't returned, she still felt a faint pull of familiarity every time she walked down the dirty crowded avenues, and looked up to bright blue, unlike the murky red of Mars, or the interminable fog of Venus. As the ship left the stratosphere and approached deep space, Faye traced the outline of the shrinking planet on the cold side window with one shaking finger as a stray memory materialized out of nowhere.

She lay her palm flat against the cold glass, fingers widespread, completely eclipsing the shrinking image of Earth. Her home planet was fast becoming yet another sparkling dot in the vast blankness. With the disappearance of a world, was the closing of the first chapter of her life. She had never been so alone, so completely immersed in reality as she was now. No longer was there the family to hide behind or the home to run to; nothing but this curious isolation that made her feel numb: like a piece of driftwood floating on the turbulent crests on the open sea. Nothing to hinder it. But nothing to guide it either.

She glanced around at the other passengers aboard. The initial excitement that gripped the majority of the crew had long since faded. Stewardesses had already begun taking orders from the passengers, and a couple of children escaped their seatbelts and ran about the narrow aisles. Quiet conversation floated through the cabin and soothed her growing anxiety. They were all blissfully ignorant of her presence. No one could possibly recognize her.

"Miss?" Faye snapped out of her stupor to look up at the awaiting stewardess. "Something to drink?" Shocked at her recent bout of absentmindedness, Faye placed her order and looked outside her window.

Her family had all sat there, crushed with defeat, but nonetheless supportive of her decision. Everyone except Emma. She was adamant against her dropping everything: her family, her career, her life, to start completely anew somewhere else, on a different planet no less, a place where she would be vulnerable to all of the elements, both good and bad. "She's smart," she declared, "but definitely not street smart. She'd be dead in an hour." But everyone began working through their apprehensive misgivings. They began to support her move to Mars. She panicked. "Why can't any of you see reason? Darling, we are your family. This is what families do. We'll take care of you. Don't worry. Do you understand? Darling?" But her pleas fell on deaf ears.

Emma sulked for two weeks before she finally gave up.

A week later they all came with her to see her off at the station. They all kept up a positive front for her sake. She knew them and saw through the weak façade. Beneath the sunny smiles and warm hugs, were silent tears of pain, and for that she loved them all the more. "I'm doing this for me," she told them, "Not to run away, but to learn to live on my own two feet. To know that I can overcome my own pitfalls and mistakes without holding someone's hands to step over them. I want to be free."

They nodded in unison and smiled. They understood. She turned around and made her way to the gate with sure and confident steps. She had to say one more goodbye.

"This better not be goodbye for good, you know." A figure materialized out of the shadows. It was Emma. "Because if you don't call us as soon as you make it to Mars, I'm gonna hunt you down so fast, you're head will spin." She glared.

"I love you." Emma's gaze softened at the soft declaration and she pulled her into a hug. "Don't forget us," she whispered fiercely, "because if you forget the ones who love you, how will you find your way back home?" A connection passed between the two, but it was disrupted when the PA sounded. Last boarding call. She wriggled out of her loose embrace and gave Emma a little winsome grin. "You'll get the call. I won't forget." With a wave of her hand and a last parting smile, she was gone.

But now that she was safely stowed on the ship, she felt tears prick the back of her eyes. She had made it. Although she was alone, exhausted, deflated, and terrified to an inch of her life, she was still victorious in her endeavor. Or was she? "I've come this far," she muttered as she got up to go get some tissue from the bathroom, "I'm definitely not going to flake out now." As she stood up, and walked down the aisle towards the back of the ship, she wondered for the first real time where she was going to go from there. She had never really given it much thought before now. All she had before was the hazy idea of getting a job, and becoming self-supportive. But the details were still unclear. Would she live on Mars permanently? Or would she just stay for awhile and return home? Would she be able to stand the loneliness?

The bathroom was empty. She stepped inside and locked it. After she got what she came for, she looked at her reflection in the mirror and scrutinized it carefully. Messy purple locks were hastily pulled back in a low ponytail, and dark bags circled red swollen eyes. "What's so special?" she said aloud balefully, gesturing to her face. "Nothing," she consoled herself. "I'm nothing. Nothing's good." She took in a large calming breath and opened the door.

She wasn't prepared to face what lay on the other side of that door.

"Oh my God…"

She let loose one loud shrill note of terror before she was silenced with a blow to the head. All she saw was black before she succumbed to the numbness.

No one noticed.

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"Faye! For the last freakin' time, answer me!"

Faye stifled the impulse to scream when a heavy hand grasped her shoulder and shook her roughly, snapping her out of the gripping dream sequence. She looked around dazedly. The Redtail had already landed aboard the Bebop and the cockpit was opened, with an angry Spike hanging off the side like the lanky baboon he was.

"God damn it, woman, what's wrong with you? You've been staring out into space for the last ten minutes. What did you do last night, binge drink?" He sneered. "I'm glad you realize that you were the one that fucked up, but seriously, you need to start acting your age. Everything can't be solved with the bottle."

He shook his head in exaggerated pity. Insulting Faye was the highlight of his day, and to see her in such a condition, ready for the kill, filled him with a sense of vengeful satisfaction.

"Killed off the last of the scant amount of brain cells you had last night, eh?"

She didn't respond. She couldn't. Her muscles were still frozen and stiff, and her hand was still poised over the window in oblivious contemplation. The lingering fear just wouldn't go away.

Spike nearly fell off the side of the Redtail in surprise. Faye always talked back; she never let a single comment get by. What was with the complete about face? The lack of response was becoming more than a little disturbing.

"Come on, Faye. Cut with the 'turn the other cheek' crap, all right? Your saint act grew old way too long ago."

Dimly, Faye wondered if Spike would mind a hug. Right now, all she wanted to do was burrow into Spike's shirt, and sob out all of her frustration. Then she could bury her nose into his shoulder and immerse herself in his comforting scent of tobacco and pine. She may have longed for freedom in her past life, but she sure as hell knew that she didn't mean this isolated hell- cut off from all physical human contact.

Did she trash herself that badly? "Faye?"

Silence.

The malicious glee in his eyes gradually faded into a mixture of worry and disgust. Concerned, he brought a hand to her chin, and lifted her face until her purple eyes met his own mismatched ones. He looked deep in the empty orbs and sighed. Sadness bled into his gaze as he witnessed the degeneration of an ice queen.

"You can't even speak, can you?"

All he got in reply was a blank stare.

End Chapter Three

Author's Note: I'm going to have to apologize in advance if Spike and Faye become too OOC. My justification for Faye is that she's gone through three years more of shit, including the death and reappearance of Spike. She's passed the breaking point and it's only a matter of time until she cracks. Spike…. well, Spike is Spike. xoP