Home Sweet Bebop
Silence…. Ed was back on Earth, hopefully still with her father. She was one of the fortunate ones.
Faye didn't bother turning on any lights as she maneuvered her way around the bulky yellow couch and to her own room.
She loitered for a few moments on the door jam, watching as he skillfully pruned an unruly branch from the tree, then slipped away.
Ever since that awful day, she had passed by Spike's room quickly, not even raising an eyebrow until she was in the comfort of her own. She was hurt, angry and just wanted to forget everything that had transpired. Now, she had stopped in her tracks outside his door. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't scour out this memory.
She had never been in his room before, never had a reason to, but questions started to swirl in her mind. What did he leave behind? Did he hold on to keepsakes? Would she find out more about his past? Before she could query anymore, she had already turned the knob and crossed the threshold.
The room was decidedly bare, not like the bedlam of her own with its assortment of clothes, makeup products, and old fashion magazines strewn about.
Wandering farther in, she started feeling the frostiness of a dead person's sanctuary on her exposed arms and instinctively crossed them over her chest. Her eyes glanced to the left wall and observed that the closet door was ajar. She sidled over and peaked inside before pulling it to. Nothing, except two wire hangers and numerous cobwebs.
Faye sighed and turned her attention to a petite, three drawer dresser that neighbored the bed on the right wall. She sat softly on the edge of the unmade mass and pulled open the top drawer. It contained an empty black picture frame, one of Spike's Jerichos' (Faye knew he owned three… and that he took the missing two with him that night), and an unopened pack of cigarettes.
The empty picture frame.
Faye realized right away what that previously held. She could visualize it placed on top of the dresser, protecting the captured memory of a young woman with flowing blond hair, piercing blue eyes and an angelic smile. Greeting and enticing all who gazed upon it. She could imagine Spike removing the picture that night and placing it in his jacket pocket next to a depleted pack of cigarettes, but more importantly, close to his heart. He would join his fallen angel very soon…
The remaining drawers offered nothing except more cobwebs and personal meetings with the spiders who called them home.
Standing up to leave, she returned the frame and decided to take the Jericho and pack of cigs with her. She reasoned that this weapon should not spend its time in a drawer, but be put to good use….and cigarettes? Hell, there was always a need for cigarettes. Two questions had answers…
Faye stared up at the ceiling as she relaxed in her bed, one hand positioned between the back of her skull and the lumpy pillow. The other wrapped around the Jericho, gleefully pointing it in various directions with her finger on the trigger. She was intrigued by how much heavier it felt than her Glock.
She may have told herself that taking this weapon was simply to add to her arsenal, but it was more than that. The Jericho symbolized a memory of Spike that she could touch with her hands, like someone's picture or piece of jewelry.
Yawning deeply, she closed her eyes and surrendered to a captivating slumber.