Chapter 11 - Obligation
"Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken
Hello, I'm the lie living for you so you can hide
Don't cry"
Evanescence, "Hello"
~ Flashback ~
The water beneath her shimmered and rippled, causing the reflection it cast to
waver slightly. Still, the moon appearing on the water's surface remained as
bright and luminescent as ever. Waving her hand over it, the image vanished
only to reappear once the surface stilled again.
"Nervous?"
Startled out of her own thoughts, she glanced upwards. A pair of green eyes
stared back at her, twinkling in amusement.
She found herself smiling back. "A little bit."
A male voice chuckled lightly. "Ah a smile… much better." The green eyes
twinkled even more. "Y'know, a frown'll give you wrinkles."
"Oh no," she exclaimed in mock terror, bringing her hands to her cheeks. "I
wouldn't want that… I'll look like an old woman before my time."
A palm rested itself on top of her own. "I wouldn't worry too much…" The eyes
turned clear and wistful. "I'll bet you'll still look beautiful when you're 80 years
old…"
~ End of Flashback ~
Faye's eyelids fluttered slightly as she felt herself returning from conscious -
ness.
'What the hell's wrong with me...?' she muttered to herself. 'Why do I keep
hearing that same voice in my head...?'
As feeling returned to her body, the first thing she was aware of was pain. All of
her joints ached, and her right ankle had to be broken.
'Guess I won't be running anywhere any time soon… Shit…'
As she thought of this, the second thing she became aware of was the searing
heat that seemed to be surrounding her body. Squirming slightly, she let out a low moan of discomfort.
Before she knew what was happening, something cold and wet was being gently brushed against her forehead. She stiffened at first but then calmed when she
realized it was a towel.
'Thank God…' she thought to herself. 'I'll take a cold compress over Ein's tongue
any day…' The damned data dog always found a way to be even more annoying
when she had a major hangover. Perhaps she should lay off the liquor for a while…
She had just finished that thought when she felt the cold compress slowly making
its way from her forehead down to her neck. Then she felt a hand parting the collar
of her vinyl shirt as the wet cloth traveled its way down her chest…
-Click!- The hand's owner was met with a fully loaded Glock 90.
The hand moved away, as did the cold compress. "You're awake."
Bleary green eyes opened slowly, straining to focus on the target in front of them.
"Your powers of observation are astounding."
There was a chuckle. "So I've been told." The cold compress found its way back
to her forehead; deep down she was grateful. "You've still got a bit of a fever."
"I guess a hangover combined with a six foot drop'll do that to you," Faye
countered.
She had decided it would be best not to be too coy with this person. After all,
she wasn't in a position to gain advantage should the odds get out of her favor.
"I'm not going to do anything," the voice replied after a few moments of silence.
"That remains to be determined," Faye countered, though she lowered her gun
slightly. It wouldn't do any good to waste a bullet if she couldn't see what she
was shooting. "Where are we?"
"Mars, 30 miles south of Tharsis."
Good, so she hadn't been taken off of the planet nor out of the city. If she could manage to get back to her Redtail, she could get back to the Bebop. Not to mentionfigure out what the hell was wrong with her. Normal people didn't travel
back and forth 60 years through time in their head. "Your place, I take it?"
"Your observation skills aren't half bad, either,"
Faye smirked. "It was a lucky guess." She tucked her gun back into her jacket.
'At least I've still got all of my clothes on…' She closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. "So, why'm I here?"
"You've got fracture in your right ankle, a dislocated shoulder, and a minor
concussion, and a lot of nasty bruises," the voice answered. "I couldn't have just
left you with those guys on the rooftop."
Faye resisted the urge to flinch, remembering the look on Spike's face as she fell
to the ground. Like he didn't see that same kind of shit everyday. But why the
face? Her brain just couldn't process it. He had been afraid… for her…? "What,
you just happened to be in the neighborhood? Or was it just your moral obligation
to help a poor damsel in distress?"
There was a pause. "Something like that."
Silence fell over the room for a moment. "Really?"
Her skepticism was not lost on her host. "Let's just say that as it seemed those
guys had a score to settle with you, so did I with them."
Faye decided she would be satisfied with this for now, wishing she could see
clearly enough to tell whether or not he was telling the truth. There was just
something about his voice… she couldn't be sure, but it made her feel at ease. It
didn't seem lustful, or disgusted by her appearance; it sounded intrigued, but that
made Faye all the more curious about its owner.
"So… seeing as I'm a bit incapacitated at the moment and won't be going
anywhereon my own anytime soon…" Faye began, "What should I call you?"
There was a brief chuckle. "I hadn't even thought about introductions until now.
Sorry."
"No big." Faye countered.
"Think of it as being my moral obligation to give my name to poor damsels I
happen to rescue." He trailed off, seemingly seeing the brief look of skepticism
once again skirt across her features. "As for your question, I guess you can call
me Jazz." the voice continued. "All my friends do."
"You like that kind of music?" Faye asked.
"Yeah," the voice answered. "I play a bit."
She found her curiosity pique. "What instrument?"
"Saxophone." Her stomach lurched slightly, her head bobbing to the side. "You
all right…?"
"Yeah…" Faye said with a groan. "Peachy…"
The bed shifted as the voice's owner stood up, removing the cloth from her head
and replacing it after dipping in a nearby basin of water. Faye was vaguely aware
of a light being turned off somewhere near her head.
"Where are you going…?" she called out.
"You need to rest," Jazz replied. "I'll be in the next room over; just call if you need
anything."
Before losing consciousness, the last thing Faye remembered was a tall lanky
figure with clay-colored hair and wistful green eyes.
And she'd never told him her name…
~~~
Jet barreled into Spike's quarters, his light blue eyes worried and questioning.
Spike, the room's sole occupant, bustled about, gathering as much ammunition
as he could carry. He noticed Jet's entrance, but didn't say a word, quickly
returning to his ask.
The ex-cop didn't like the look in his eyes one bit. "Spike, what the hell's going
on?" he asked. There was no answer. He had a really bad feeling about this.
"Where is Faye?"
The lanky bounty hunter flinched involuntarily. "She owe you money or something?
Might have some trouble getting it back…"
There was something about the younger man's tone of voice that Jet didn't like. It wasn't the usual jibing tone he took when referring to Faye's sticky-fingered habits. Something was definitely wrong. "They got the drop on us," Spike replied after a moment of silence. His voice sounded so hollow. "We were on the roof… about
to take off in the Redtail…"
Jet felt like he was witnessing a car crash; you want to cover your ears or at least
look away, but you're still so compelled to watch. "What happened?" he asked.
"They shot the ladder," Spike busied himself with loading his gun. His face
remained neutral while his eyes regarded his Jericho with a wild look completely
unlike him. Jet wasn't sure if he looked ready to kill or to break down into
hysterics. "Faye fell…" He swallowed slowly. "She fell and they got her."
Jet's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. "They got her?!" he exclaimed. "What
the fu… why didn't you help her?" He paused in surprise at the wounded look that quickly skirted across his partner's features.
It was quickly replaced however, with Spike's patented look of grim humor.
"Faye's the only one who really knows how to fly that ship of hers," he ground out.
"The damned auto pilot wouldn't shut off. I couldn't get back in time."
"So, they were after Faye the whole time," Jet replied. "Seeing since they didn't
attack you once she fell…"
"It doesn't matter…" Spike growled. "They're dead."
"Wha…?"
"Some other guy showed up and took'em out…" Spike answered. "I couldn't see
what happened after that." With that, he strode out of the room.
"What are you going to do?"
"I can trace her with her communicator," Spike answered simply. "I'm gonna go
get her back."
"Alone?" Jet countered. "You don't even know who those guys were! What if you
get caught up in some Syndicate shit again?"
Spike turned on him, his expression dangerously calm. "So, you're suggesting I
just abandon Faye?" he asked. At Jet's negative, he laughed humorlessly. "The shrew'd probably haunt me for the rest of my days."
The ex-cop's expression remained grim. "From what you told me, Spike," he
replied quietly. "She fell a good distance… there's no way she could have
escaped if this guy was an enemy."
"Then I'm just gonna have to rescue her."
He was serious about this… Spike Spiegel actually wanted to save Faye
Valentine – no ulterior motives, no strings attached. Jet felt like he was playing
the Devil's Advocate, or had either tripped and stumbled into the Twilight Zone.
"Faye's managed to get herself into a lot of scrapes and come out on top…" he
replied. "But none… none like this."
Spike's fist collided with a wall, sending a heavy clanging sound echoing down
the corridor. His eyes remained shut, as if forcing out some horrid mental image.
"I can't… I can't let her die, Jet!" he exclaimed. "I have to get her back! Julia--!"
Calling upon all his years in the force, Jet schooled his expression to remain
calm.
"Julia's got nothing to do with this, Spike," he replied evenly.
Spike's face took on a hurt look. "I wasn't…"
"She's dead." Jet countered, trying to keep his tone neutral. "Faye's the one in
danger, remember?"
The two men fell into an uncomfortable silence. Spike looked up, his mismatched
eyes unfocused for a moment. After regaining lucidity, he tucked his Jericho into a holster at his waist. He turned away from Jet, heading towards the main cabin.
"Spike…" Jet called out.
"I'll bring her back," Spike called over his shoulder. "I owe her that much at least."
Jet watched his retreating form, unsure of whom 'her' was supposed to be. When it came down to it, Jet wasn't even sure Spike knew either.
~ End of Chapter 11
"Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken
Hello, I'm the lie living for you so you can hide
Don't cry"
Evanescence, "Hello"
~ Flashback ~
The water beneath her shimmered and rippled, causing the reflection it cast to
waver slightly. Still, the moon appearing on the water's surface remained as
bright and luminescent as ever. Waving her hand over it, the image vanished
only to reappear once the surface stilled again.
"Nervous?"
Startled out of her own thoughts, she glanced upwards. A pair of green eyes
stared back at her, twinkling in amusement.
She found herself smiling back. "A little bit."
A male voice chuckled lightly. "Ah a smile… much better." The green eyes
twinkled even more. "Y'know, a frown'll give you wrinkles."
"Oh no," she exclaimed in mock terror, bringing her hands to her cheeks. "I
wouldn't want that… I'll look like an old woman before my time."
A palm rested itself on top of her own. "I wouldn't worry too much…" The eyes
turned clear and wistful. "I'll bet you'll still look beautiful when you're 80 years
old…"
~ End of Flashback ~
Faye's eyelids fluttered slightly as she felt herself returning from conscious -
ness.
'What the hell's wrong with me...?' she muttered to herself. 'Why do I keep
hearing that same voice in my head...?'
As feeling returned to her body, the first thing she was aware of was pain. All of
her joints ached, and her right ankle had to be broken.
'Guess I won't be running anywhere any time soon… Shit…'
As she thought of this, the second thing she became aware of was the searing
heat that seemed to be surrounding her body. Squirming slightly, she let out a low moan of discomfort.
Before she knew what was happening, something cold and wet was being gently brushed against her forehead. She stiffened at first but then calmed when she
realized it was a towel.
'Thank God…' she thought to herself. 'I'll take a cold compress over Ein's tongue
any day…' The damned data dog always found a way to be even more annoying
when she had a major hangover. Perhaps she should lay off the liquor for a while…
She had just finished that thought when she felt the cold compress slowly making
its way from her forehead down to her neck. Then she felt a hand parting the collar
of her vinyl shirt as the wet cloth traveled its way down her chest…
-Click!- The hand's owner was met with a fully loaded Glock 90.
The hand moved away, as did the cold compress. "You're awake."
Bleary green eyes opened slowly, straining to focus on the target in front of them.
"Your powers of observation are astounding."
There was a chuckle. "So I've been told." The cold compress found its way back
to her forehead; deep down she was grateful. "You've still got a bit of a fever."
"I guess a hangover combined with a six foot drop'll do that to you," Faye
countered.
She had decided it would be best not to be too coy with this person. After all,
she wasn't in a position to gain advantage should the odds get out of her favor.
"I'm not going to do anything," the voice replied after a few moments of silence.
"That remains to be determined," Faye countered, though she lowered her gun
slightly. It wouldn't do any good to waste a bullet if she couldn't see what she
was shooting. "Where are we?"
"Mars, 30 miles south of Tharsis."
Good, so she hadn't been taken off of the planet nor out of the city. If she could manage to get back to her Redtail, she could get back to the Bebop. Not to mentionfigure out what the hell was wrong with her. Normal people didn't travel
back and forth 60 years through time in their head. "Your place, I take it?"
"Your observation skills aren't half bad, either,"
Faye smirked. "It was a lucky guess." She tucked her gun back into her jacket.
'At least I've still got all of my clothes on…' She closed her eyes, letting out a deep breath. "So, why'm I here?"
"You've got fracture in your right ankle, a dislocated shoulder, and a minor
concussion, and a lot of nasty bruises," the voice answered. "I couldn't have just
left you with those guys on the rooftop."
Faye resisted the urge to flinch, remembering the look on Spike's face as she fell
to the ground. Like he didn't see that same kind of shit everyday. But why the
face? Her brain just couldn't process it. He had been afraid… for her…? "What,
you just happened to be in the neighborhood? Or was it just your moral obligation
to help a poor damsel in distress?"
There was a pause. "Something like that."
Silence fell over the room for a moment. "Really?"
Her skepticism was not lost on her host. "Let's just say that as it seemed those
guys had a score to settle with you, so did I with them."
Faye decided she would be satisfied with this for now, wishing she could see
clearly enough to tell whether or not he was telling the truth. There was just
something about his voice… she couldn't be sure, but it made her feel at ease. It
didn't seem lustful, or disgusted by her appearance; it sounded intrigued, but that
made Faye all the more curious about its owner.
"So… seeing as I'm a bit incapacitated at the moment and won't be going
anywhereon my own anytime soon…" Faye began, "What should I call you?"
There was a brief chuckle. "I hadn't even thought about introductions until now.
Sorry."
"No big." Faye countered.
"Think of it as being my moral obligation to give my name to poor damsels I
happen to rescue." He trailed off, seemingly seeing the brief look of skepticism
once again skirt across her features. "As for your question, I guess you can call
me Jazz." the voice continued. "All my friends do."
"You like that kind of music?" Faye asked.
"Yeah," the voice answered. "I play a bit."
She found her curiosity pique. "What instrument?"
"Saxophone." Her stomach lurched slightly, her head bobbing to the side. "You
all right…?"
"Yeah…" Faye said with a groan. "Peachy…"
The bed shifted as the voice's owner stood up, removing the cloth from her head
and replacing it after dipping in a nearby basin of water. Faye was vaguely aware
of a light being turned off somewhere near her head.
"Where are you going…?" she called out.
"You need to rest," Jazz replied. "I'll be in the next room over; just call if you need
anything."
Before losing consciousness, the last thing Faye remembered was a tall lanky
figure with clay-colored hair and wistful green eyes.
And she'd never told him her name…
~~~
Jet barreled into Spike's quarters, his light blue eyes worried and questioning.
Spike, the room's sole occupant, bustled about, gathering as much ammunition
as he could carry. He noticed Jet's entrance, but didn't say a word, quickly
returning to his ask.
The ex-cop didn't like the look in his eyes one bit. "Spike, what the hell's going
on?" he asked. There was no answer. He had a really bad feeling about this.
"Where is Faye?"
The lanky bounty hunter flinched involuntarily. "She owe you money or something?
Might have some trouble getting it back…"
There was something about the younger man's tone of voice that Jet didn't like. It wasn't the usual jibing tone he took when referring to Faye's sticky-fingered habits. Something was definitely wrong. "They got the drop on us," Spike replied after a moment of silence. His voice sounded so hollow. "We were on the roof… about
to take off in the Redtail…"
Jet felt like he was witnessing a car crash; you want to cover your ears or at least
look away, but you're still so compelled to watch. "What happened?" he asked.
"They shot the ladder," Spike busied himself with loading his gun. His face
remained neutral while his eyes regarded his Jericho with a wild look completely
unlike him. Jet wasn't sure if he looked ready to kill or to break down into
hysterics. "Faye fell…" He swallowed slowly. "She fell and they got her."
Jet's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull. "They got her?!" he exclaimed. "What
the fu… why didn't you help her?" He paused in surprise at the wounded look that quickly skirted across his partner's features.
It was quickly replaced however, with Spike's patented look of grim humor.
"Faye's the only one who really knows how to fly that ship of hers," he ground out.
"The damned auto pilot wouldn't shut off. I couldn't get back in time."
"So, they were after Faye the whole time," Jet replied. "Seeing since they didn't
attack you once she fell…"
"It doesn't matter…" Spike growled. "They're dead."
"Wha…?"
"Some other guy showed up and took'em out…" Spike answered. "I couldn't see
what happened after that." With that, he strode out of the room.
"What are you going to do?"
"I can trace her with her communicator," Spike answered simply. "I'm gonna go
get her back."
"Alone?" Jet countered. "You don't even know who those guys were! What if you
get caught up in some Syndicate shit again?"
Spike turned on him, his expression dangerously calm. "So, you're suggesting I
just abandon Faye?" he asked. At Jet's negative, he laughed humorlessly. "The shrew'd probably haunt me for the rest of my days."
The ex-cop's expression remained grim. "From what you told me, Spike," he
replied quietly. "She fell a good distance… there's no way she could have
escaped if this guy was an enemy."
"Then I'm just gonna have to rescue her."
He was serious about this… Spike Spiegel actually wanted to save Faye
Valentine – no ulterior motives, no strings attached. Jet felt like he was playing
the Devil's Advocate, or had either tripped and stumbled into the Twilight Zone.
"Faye's managed to get herself into a lot of scrapes and come out on top…" he
replied. "But none… none like this."
Spike's fist collided with a wall, sending a heavy clanging sound echoing down
the corridor. His eyes remained shut, as if forcing out some horrid mental image.
"I can't… I can't let her die, Jet!" he exclaimed. "I have to get her back! Julia--!"
Calling upon all his years in the force, Jet schooled his expression to remain
calm.
"Julia's got nothing to do with this, Spike," he replied evenly.
Spike's face took on a hurt look. "I wasn't…"
"She's dead." Jet countered, trying to keep his tone neutral. "Faye's the one in
danger, remember?"
The two men fell into an uncomfortable silence. Spike looked up, his mismatched
eyes unfocused for a moment. After regaining lucidity, he tucked his Jericho into a holster at his waist. He turned away from Jet, heading towards the main cabin.
"Spike…" Jet called out.
"I'll bring her back," Spike called over his shoulder. "I owe her that much at least."
Jet watched his retreating form, unsure of whom 'her' was supposed to be. When it came down to it, Jet wasn't even sure Spike knew either.
~ End of Chapter 11