Ditto on the disclaimers of chapter one, chapter two, and chapter three.
ATTENTION: If you haven't already gotten this message by some strange, strange turn of events, this fic contains some rather inappropriate themes. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 13!!!!
Silk on Steel
Four: Light's Farewell
The first thing she noticed was the feeling of a slight chill. Without really opening her eyes, she reached to find him, to put her arms around him . . . but she felt nothing. No sea tide breathing. Nothing. With a sudden bite of panic, she started to feel around more desperately. But she couldn't find him. For one terrible, terrible second, she let herself imagine that he was gone. In her panic, she opened one eye and all her fears were quelled once again.
Looking out into the great expanse of starlight through the curved round window, transfixed by the mere paradox of significance in the universe. There he was, bare to the waist, his back to her, sitting still as a statue and silent as a cat, his eyes mesmerized by the vast pure luminousness of it. For a moment, she didn't make a sound, but just watched him with his glassy-eyed trance like observing a monk in the deepest of meditations. His breath . . . it was no longer the waves. It was the sound the wind makes when blowing in and out of a cave, its eerie sighs howling in and out. For what seemed like forever, the silence filled the room, seeping into her heart and mind, easing all her fears, and suddenly, her voice split it open.
"Hey."
"Hey," he answered, his voice low and drawling, as if he were asleep.
More silence.
"What are you doing?"
"Just thinking."
An even longer pause.
"What about?"
"Faye. . ." he seemed to be having trouble talking, "Faye. . . I have to leave."
"Leave?" she suddenly found herself crawling out of bed and dressing herself hurriedly. "What do you mean, 'Leave'?"
"Faye . . . I don't think you understand," he said slowly. "There's . . . there's just something I have to do."
"What are you talking about?" she finished dressing and hurried up beside him. "You're not going anywhere as long as I'm-"
Her voice caught in her throat, the sentence drifting off into nowhere. She saw what he'd been watching. . . Mars. His home planet. The place he'd grown up. The setting of the whole dark, tragic story. Where Vicious was now, still hiding in the same shadows he worshipped. Where he had lost the love of his life, the sunlight in his eyes. This place that had been the bane of his existence and yet, the place he was always been drawn back to. His past lay there, buried under the surface of his eyes, hid so far that she wondered if even he knew where it was. A few tears slipped down the side of her cheek.
"No," she cried meekly, the tears creeping into her voice. "No.please, no, you can't."
"I have to," he sighed. "I don't have a choice anymore."
"Yes you do!" she shouted. "You moron! You finally found a little something for yourself and now you're just going throw it all away again! What kind of life is that?!? Huh?!?"
"You don't understand," his eyes turned away from her, still staring out at the wide expanse of stars. "This isn't about her. I just can't let him go on like that. Don't you get it?" One long sigh that seemed to last forever. "I couldn't live anymore. Not really. Not a real life. I'd always be just waiting, fearing he'd come back for me. Can't you see? I gotta get him. It's my only hope. He can't just get away. I can't let him."
The stream of tears had become a river. It wasn't fair. Why did he have to? Why couldn't he see that he was leading himself to his death? Did he want to die? Did he not see that he could get out if he just forgot his foolish pride and started thinking about someone other than himself?
"Why?" she cried again. "Oh, why?"
"I'm sorry, Faye. But I just can't stay here a minute longer," he slowly got up from his perch and got up, buttoning up a clean shirt from his dresser.
"What is your problem?!?" she suddenly threw herself into a rage. "Have you gone insane?!? You're staying right here, mister!"
"I hope you understand," he started loading his pistols, answering like he hadn't heard her at all. "You'll understand someday."
Faye was so angry and sad and a million emotions at a time she couldn't even answer.
"I'll be back," he sighed unhappily. "I promise you, Faye. . . I'll be back soon."
"You don't know that," she cried, her eyes draining like waterfalls. "Don't you understand? You're leading yourself right into his hands. Can't you see? You're killing yourself!!!"
"That's a risk I have to take," he tried to explain, shutting the barrels skillfully one-handed. "I've taken it before, and I can do it again. I don't wanna, Faye. But you don't seem to understand . . . as long as he's still out there, there won't be a life for me. Not anywhere. And if I die tomorrow, at least it will have been on my terms . . . not on his."
She tried to speak, but no sound came out. Her emotions were in a whirlwind. Anger, sorrow, love, fear, pain, confusion . . . it was so hopelessly entangled, she couldn't even begin to try and decipher it. Faye stood staring at him, her mouth hanging agape. It was like her body was being pulled in a million different directions. She wanted to cry and yell and throw herself at his feet and smack him and break down and run away and beg and kiss him and make love to him and hurl and faint and self destruct and just flat out die all at the very same instant. But her body was frozen in place, tears streaming in great globs down her face. No words came, only one loud, long, lonely cry of pure agony as she fell to the floor, pounding it as hard as she could with her fists.
A touch. She suddenly straightened up, opening her tear-blinded eyes. His face was so close to her, the cool touch of his breath playing at wretched hair. He was kneeling next to her, his eyes right in hers. And for just one minute, she couldn't help but get lost in them. Those eyes . . . those two mismatched marbles . . . it was just like him. So much of the time, he was the metal, the cold, tough bounty hunter, veiling his emotions under a multicolor shield of ersatz apathy, iciness, invulnerability and seeming invincibility. But then there were times like this past week when it was the other way. When he was a real human, made of flesh and bone, not steel, and just like anyone else, able to be broken, able to bleed. When he wasn't an icicle of unfeeling, but had real emotions, beautiful ones, ones that could either hurt or heal. When he wasn't just an anonymous face in the crowd that could be treated with a passing glance, but a person with a story, a past, something he was trying to tell the world so desperately you could almost smell it. Two different eyes, two different Spikes . . . they were the Yin and the Yang, two parts of the whole, two sides of the coin, one never complete without his brother.
Sometimes it seemed as though that was Vicious and Spike . . . two former best friends, two sons of the red planet, two criminals, two anguished men, two brothers that would face each other in a battle to the death . . .
One woman . . .: Julia . . . the woman in black and white . . .
But that was the past. And now he was going to finish it.
"You . . . you're the only one," he whispered so softly into her ear, almost as if he could read her mind.
"Come back to me," she whispered back.
"I'll always come back . . . for you."
A kiss; a kiss on the floor of his room on the Bebop, the two of them on their knees, both wrapped, entwined, clenched desperately in the other's arms, as if they would float away if they ever let go. For a second Faye held her breath. It was true.
This was her dream . . . this was the kiss she had dreamed of for so long.
Like a thunderclap, his lips pulled away from hers at last. One last moment, he knelt at her side, one hand wrapped lovingly around her waist, the other brushing affectionately at her hair. A single tear ran from his right eye down his cheek, then a slow stream beginning, the left eye staring blank and oblivious. But she knew. She knew both the Spikes now.
He got to his feet and walked slowly from the room. Faye did not stir from her place on the floor. She didn't move when she heard him going down the hall. She didn't move when she heard him going down the stairs. She didn't move when she heard the roar of the engines awakening. She didn't move when she heard the bay doors open. She didn't move when she heard the almighty blast of sound as he took off towards his home.
She didn't move when she heard the silence long after the bay doors closed themselves.
For nearly ten minutes after it was obvious he was gone, Faye clutched to that tiny spot of floor in his bedroom with almost religious zeal, so afraid that she might wake to find it was a dream and at the very same time wishing with all her heart it was a dream. And then, as if an alarm had gone off in her head, she suddenly rose and left the room, closing the door smartly behind her. He was gone. There was nothing she could do about it now. Better to just forget it.
"He promised me," she thought to herself. "He promised he'd come back."
She found herself in the bathroom, stripping off her clothes and stepping into the shower, the warm water splashing against her nude body. She would wash the pain away. Everything washed away with water. Even the worst kind of pain.
For several minutes, she basked in that balmy warmth, trying to forget this incredible coldness that had seeped into her chest. But no matter how warm the water was, it could not melt the ice. She turned the shower off and toweled herself dry, walking slowly back to her room, the white towel tied around her. Folded neatly in her drawers, she found a change of clothes, and changed into them without even looking at herself in the mirror once. Everything in her wardrobe matched anyway. Her wet hair soaked her pillow as she collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It didn't matter anymore. She didn't want to do anything but lay here.
And it was several minutes before she realized what was so familiar about the situation.
That's just how Spike was for six whole days.
ATTENTION: If you haven't already gotten this message by some strange, strange turn of events, this fic contains some rather inappropriate themes. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT 13!!!!
Silk on Steel
Four: Light's Farewell
The first thing she noticed was the feeling of a slight chill. Without really opening her eyes, she reached to find him, to put her arms around him . . . but she felt nothing. No sea tide breathing. Nothing. With a sudden bite of panic, she started to feel around more desperately. But she couldn't find him. For one terrible, terrible second, she let herself imagine that he was gone. In her panic, she opened one eye and all her fears were quelled once again.
Looking out into the great expanse of starlight through the curved round window, transfixed by the mere paradox of significance in the universe. There he was, bare to the waist, his back to her, sitting still as a statue and silent as a cat, his eyes mesmerized by the vast pure luminousness of it. For a moment, she didn't make a sound, but just watched him with his glassy-eyed trance like observing a monk in the deepest of meditations. His breath . . . it was no longer the waves. It was the sound the wind makes when blowing in and out of a cave, its eerie sighs howling in and out. For what seemed like forever, the silence filled the room, seeping into her heart and mind, easing all her fears, and suddenly, her voice split it open.
"Hey."
"Hey," he answered, his voice low and drawling, as if he were asleep.
More silence.
"What are you doing?"
"Just thinking."
An even longer pause.
"What about?"
"Faye. . ." he seemed to be having trouble talking, "Faye. . . I have to leave."
"Leave?" she suddenly found herself crawling out of bed and dressing herself hurriedly. "What do you mean, 'Leave'?"
"Faye . . . I don't think you understand," he said slowly. "There's . . . there's just something I have to do."
"What are you talking about?" she finished dressing and hurried up beside him. "You're not going anywhere as long as I'm-"
Her voice caught in her throat, the sentence drifting off into nowhere. She saw what he'd been watching. . . Mars. His home planet. The place he'd grown up. The setting of the whole dark, tragic story. Where Vicious was now, still hiding in the same shadows he worshipped. Where he had lost the love of his life, the sunlight in his eyes. This place that had been the bane of his existence and yet, the place he was always been drawn back to. His past lay there, buried under the surface of his eyes, hid so far that she wondered if even he knew where it was. A few tears slipped down the side of her cheek.
"No," she cried meekly, the tears creeping into her voice. "No.please, no, you can't."
"I have to," he sighed. "I don't have a choice anymore."
"Yes you do!" she shouted. "You moron! You finally found a little something for yourself and now you're just going throw it all away again! What kind of life is that?!? Huh?!?"
"You don't understand," his eyes turned away from her, still staring out at the wide expanse of stars. "This isn't about her. I just can't let him go on like that. Don't you get it?" One long sigh that seemed to last forever. "I couldn't live anymore. Not really. Not a real life. I'd always be just waiting, fearing he'd come back for me. Can't you see? I gotta get him. It's my only hope. He can't just get away. I can't let him."
The stream of tears had become a river. It wasn't fair. Why did he have to? Why couldn't he see that he was leading himself to his death? Did he want to die? Did he not see that he could get out if he just forgot his foolish pride and started thinking about someone other than himself?
"Why?" she cried again. "Oh, why?"
"I'm sorry, Faye. But I just can't stay here a minute longer," he slowly got up from his perch and got up, buttoning up a clean shirt from his dresser.
"What is your problem?!?" she suddenly threw herself into a rage. "Have you gone insane?!? You're staying right here, mister!"
"I hope you understand," he started loading his pistols, answering like he hadn't heard her at all. "You'll understand someday."
Faye was so angry and sad and a million emotions at a time she couldn't even answer.
"I'll be back," he sighed unhappily. "I promise you, Faye. . . I'll be back soon."
"You don't know that," she cried, her eyes draining like waterfalls. "Don't you understand? You're leading yourself right into his hands. Can't you see? You're killing yourself!!!"
"That's a risk I have to take," he tried to explain, shutting the barrels skillfully one-handed. "I've taken it before, and I can do it again. I don't wanna, Faye. But you don't seem to understand . . . as long as he's still out there, there won't be a life for me. Not anywhere. And if I die tomorrow, at least it will have been on my terms . . . not on his."
She tried to speak, but no sound came out. Her emotions were in a whirlwind. Anger, sorrow, love, fear, pain, confusion . . . it was so hopelessly entangled, she couldn't even begin to try and decipher it. Faye stood staring at him, her mouth hanging agape. It was like her body was being pulled in a million different directions. She wanted to cry and yell and throw herself at his feet and smack him and break down and run away and beg and kiss him and make love to him and hurl and faint and self destruct and just flat out die all at the very same instant. But her body was frozen in place, tears streaming in great globs down her face. No words came, only one loud, long, lonely cry of pure agony as she fell to the floor, pounding it as hard as she could with her fists.
A touch. She suddenly straightened up, opening her tear-blinded eyes. His face was so close to her, the cool touch of his breath playing at wretched hair. He was kneeling next to her, his eyes right in hers. And for just one minute, she couldn't help but get lost in them. Those eyes . . . those two mismatched marbles . . . it was just like him. So much of the time, he was the metal, the cold, tough bounty hunter, veiling his emotions under a multicolor shield of ersatz apathy, iciness, invulnerability and seeming invincibility. But then there were times like this past week when it was the other way. When he was a real human, made of flesh and bone, not steel, and just like anyone else, able to be broken, able to bleed. When he wasn't an icicle of unfeeling, but had real emotions, beautiful ones, ones that could either hurt or heal. When he wasn't just an anonymous face in the crowd that could be treated with a passing glance, but a person with a story, a past, something he was trying to tell the world so desperately you could almost smell it. Two different eyes, two different Spikes . . . they were the Yin and the Yang, two parts of the whole, two sides of the coin, one never complete without his brother.
Sometimes it seemed as though that was Vicious and Spike . . . two former best friends, two sons of the red planet, two criminals, two anguished men, two brothers that would face each other in a battle to the death . . .
One woman . . .: Julia . . . the woman in black and white . . .
But that was the past. And now he was going to finish it.
"You . . . you're the only one," he whispered so softly into her ear, almost as if he could read her mind.
"Come back to me," she whispered back.
"I'll always come back . . . for you."
A kiss; a kiss on the floor of his room on the Bebop, the two of them on their knees, both wrapped, entwined, clenched desperately in the other's arms, as if they would float away if they ever let go. For a second Faye held her breath. It was true.
This was her dream . . . this was the kiss she had dreamed of for so long.
Like a thunderclap, his lips pulled away from hers at last. One last moment, he knelt at her side, one hand wrapped lovingly around her waist, the other brushing affectionately at her hair. A single tear ran from his right eye down his cheek, then a slow stream beginning, the left eye staring blank and oblivious. But she knew. She knew both the Spikes now.
He got to his feet and walked slowly from the room. Faye did not stir from her place on the floor. She didn't move when she heard him going down the hall. She didn't move when she heard him going down the stairs. She didn't move when she heard the roar of the engines awakening. She didn't move when she heard the bay doors open. She didn't move when she heard the almighty blast of sound as he took off towards his home.
She didn't move when she heard the silence long after the bay doors closed themselves.
For nearly ten minutes after it was obvious he was gone, Faye clutched to that tiny spot of floor in his bedroom with almost religious zeal, so afraid that she might wake to find it was a dream and at the very same time wishing with all her heart it was a dream. And then, as if an alarm had gone off in her head, she suddenly rose and left the room, closing the door smartly behind her. He was gone. There was nothing she could do about it now. Better to just forget it.
"He promised me," she thought to herself. "He promised he'd come back."
She found herself in the bathroom, stripping off her clothes and stepping into the shower, the warm water splashing against her nude body. She would wash the pain away. Everything washed away with water. Even the worst kind of pain.
For several minutes, she basked in that balmy warmth, trying to forget this incredible coldness that had seeped into her chest. But no matter how warm the water was, it could not melt the ice. She turned the shower off and toweled herself dry, walking slowly back to her room, the white towel tied around her. Folded neatly in her drawers, she found a change of clothes, and changed into them without even looking at herself in the mirror once. Everything in her wardrobe matched anyway. Her wet hair soaked her pillow as she collapsed on the bed, staring at the ceiling. It didn't matter anymore. She didn't want to do anything but lay here.
And it was several minutes before she realized what was so familiar about the situation.
That's just how Spike was for six whole days.