Walk Away
Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop, nor do I own the characters, but they're just at my disposal. Mwuahahahaha!
I sat at the corner of my bed, a cup of tea poised in one hand. I sighed, not really thirsty but Jet thought it was a good idea that I had at least something in my stomach after a good few days of not being able to look at anything related to food. The view from my room was amazing, the surface of Mars below me and I knew that if I wanted I could go down and see the ruins of the building he died in.
Well there it came again, those tears that didn't seem to end. I wiped at my cheeks in order to try and keep myself looking decent. I had to keep up appearances, even if it was just Jet and I in this piece of crap that he likes to call a space ship. Ed was gone and Ein went with her, and as much as that girl, or boy, whichever you'd like to call her and that dog annoyed me; I miss them. It made me cry when I heard they left. But then again that was a day that, in all reality I got my memory back, I wish it would just go away. There's nothing for me here anymore. I think I've just stuck around Jet because he's the only one of the old gang who really survived. That's kind of comforting, but neither of us really talk much. We just sit around in each other's company and take in the presence of ourselves. I think that's the more comforting thing.
I took a sip of the tea, it was cold. I hate cold tea. Hell, I don't even like cold alcohol that much. But I've taken to the bottle a few times in the past week or so. Mostly to forget, maybe because it's the only thing that doesn't remind me, but hey, it's alcohol and that's all that matters right? I took the cup back to the kitchen and set it by the sink, Jet would complain that I take these living conditions for granted but after a while he'd pat my shoulder and leave it alone. It'd be washed in a matter of a day or so anyway. I think that's why I'm staying around here with him; he understands why I'm not myself. I don't think a lot of people would really care.
We've done pretty well; I've gone after a few bounty heads. I guess just to pass the time and keep my mind off of things. They weren't anything special, but just enough for Jet and I to be comfortable for a while. I don't think either of us are ready for any big jobs yet. This ship seems really damned big when there's just two of you on it.
"Hey, Faye, I'm gonna head out for a bit, can you keep an eye on things here?" Jet asks me as I leaned on the counter.
I nodded. What was I supposed to do? Go with him? Please, the less I have to interfere with his life the better. I'm done with that. I tried meddling with that lunkhead with the fuzzy hair, and look where it gets me? All I get is a heart full of pain and my mind racing with ways that I could have helped.
I think I'm just trying to not think about him. Every time I do I just break down. And I don't even know if he's dead, you know? But if he wasn't he'd have already found his way back up here days ago. I think I miss him more than I thought I would if I left.
I think back to when I ran off to Callisto and told them I didn't want to be followed. Truth was, I wanted to be followed more than anything in the world. It was my luck that Gren found me and took me in. Too bad Vicious got to him, but I think Spike had said he would have died anyway. But it wasn't Gren that I'd wanted to find me; it was that fuzzy haired moron that had managed to find himself on that desolate hunk of rock anyway. Go figure, right?
Oh god, I can just picture him in my mind. Those eyes staring down at me from a good three inches above mine and them filled with a warmth that could make anyone's heart melt. Well, when he was in a good mood anyway. But I can see him leaning in a doorway just over there, leading into the bedrooms. Why did he have to go off and leave me here like this? Why'd he have to go after Vicious like that? And why didn't he want any help?
I shot my gun off at him, well, not AT him but because of him. Put some damn good holes in Jet's second level floor too. I got chewed out for that but I think he understood why.
I remember when he told me to look into his eyes. The one that was a fake saw only the past. He was walking through a dreamland. And sadly he'd found his fairy tale princess, courtesy of me. I kind of want to kick myself because of that. I'd heard she died, and when I heard that I knew Spike wouldn't be far off. But that doesn't help to stop the want of him to come strolling into the room and insult me. He died finding out if he was alive or not. I hope he found his answer and that it was the one he wanted.
I shook my head and felt the tears roll down my face again. Jet wasn't around so I could cry freely. I sank to my knees and sobs overtook me. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to get a handle on reality. I cried there for a while, on the kitchen floor. But I got up and ran to my room after I couldn't stand the thought of Jet coming back to seeing me like that. I lay across my bed and sobbed into one of the pillows. I could feel myself start to shake again and I looked up from the tearstained cotton pillowcase to the headboard. I hiccoughed a few times, trying to regain composure. My eyes cleared for a bit as I took a few deep breaths. It wasn't right for me to be crying like this. He was gone and I had to accept that. My eyes wandered to a picture in a frame on the nightstand that Ed had taken while we were on Ganymede. It's not too bad. I smiled as I leaned closer to it. Spike had that sour, " I'm going to kill you if you flash that camera in my face" kind of look, Jet had a smile on his face and I was seated In front of the two of them, Ein in my lap. I could feel the tears well up again as my gaze settled just on Spike.
I started to cry again, but not for very much longer. I buzzed Jet and told him I was going out too. He was on his way back anyway and when he saw me I guess he could tell from my face that I had to get away. I wiped my eyes again and headed toward my ship.
After I'd landed back on Mars I took to wasting a few hours at the dog track, my favorite hobby. I lost most of what I'd brought, but the thrill was gone. Without Jet to yell at me for wasting my money it just wasn't the same. I tossed my tickets in the garbage and found myself a bar to waste another few hours in.
I'd just ordered another refill for my scotch when the door opened. The bells jangled and I shrugged, another old drunk coming in to tell stories. Just like those three old men that seemed to follow us around quite a bit. I shook my head and gazed down into my drink. The ice my scotch coated glistened in the dim lighting. I smiled to myself, thinking of all the nights Spike and I had shared actually talking and not fighting in some bar late at night after Jet had taken to his bonsai garden and Ed had fallen asleep somewhere on the ship. We did that a few times, smoking a pack of cigarettes and knocking off a bottle of vodka or whatever out tastes wanted at the time. It made me smile to think we had some decent conversation.
Someone took a seat beside me and I turned to nod my head. A bandaged face nodded at me from under a baseball cap. I cocked an eyebrow but didn't say anything more. A crutch stood beside the barstool he sat on and I blinked at the sight of it, both of us taking out a pack of cigarettes and him lighting his up. I searched my pockets but found not lighter.
"Spare a light, stranger?" I asked, pointing to the blue plastic Zippo in front of him.
He slid it over to me as he pointed to a bottle of whiskey behind the bar and the bartender poured a glass for him. I lit my own cigarette and inhaled deeply, sliding the lighter back. I exhaled, the smoke billowing around us as we smoked in silence, every so often one of us reaching over to the ashtray and tapping the butts off the end of out lighted cancer sticks. It was almost like Spike and I back only a few weeks ago. It made me want to cry.
After a while I couldn't stand it anymore. I dropped a twenty on the counter, the last of my money, and didn't care whether or not I had change, let my smoking partner pay of his charge with it. That'd be my good deed for the day, let a hurting man have his drink without paying. God knows I had a lot of nights where I wished for that kind of niceness.
I headed back to my ship, whistling a tune that I had picked up from Spike when I'd met him. I'd accused him of being a Goujo, and told him I was Romany, a gypsy. I walked with my hands behind my head, as I was prone to do. But instead of showing off myself in my customary yellow outfit that consisted of hardly anything but a bra and shorts, I'd opted for a black skirt that reached halfway to my knees and a black half turtle neck. It bared my midriff, but even during mourning a girl has to give the men something to look at.
I stopped a few paces from where I'd parked the ship, hearing someone behind me. I turned and found the man from the bar limping his way toward me. I reached for my Glock that was in a holster in the back of my skirt, but put my hand down as he neared me. He held out his hand, a few wulong clasped in a bandaged fist. I cocked my head to the side, the now darkening sunlight hiding his face from me. I took the money and uttered a soft thank you and he turned to go, but stopped after a few paces on that crutch.
"Hey, Faye, thanks for the drink. Hope you and Jet haven't worried too much." He said, waving his other hand and started off again.
My eyes widened at the sound of his voice and I ran after him, my eyes filling with tears again. I stopped in front of him, searching the hidden face between the shadow of the hat and the bandages for a familiar feature, anything that would justify that maybe my pounding heart wasn't for naught.
Then I saw them, he'd shed the hat, the same green fuzzy hair sticking out at all ends above those chocolate eyes that haunted my dreams for the past two weeks. My eyes overflowed in tears and I almost fell to my knees.
"Spike?" I whispered up to the figure that seemed almost a walking mummy.
He smiled down at me and wrapped one of his arms around me. I cried into the black jacket and he hugged me close to him. I smiled after a few minutes and looked up into his eyes.
"Well, what did you think happened? I'm a cat, remember? I still have six lives I can walk away from." He smiled down at me and I playfully slapped his arm.
"Get you a ride back home?" I asked, linking my arm around his waist.
He nodded and we walked to my ship, though I knew it'd be a tight squeeze. I opened the hatch to get in and started to help him climb up but he caught my hand and stopped me. I looked at him with a confused look as he leaned down and caught me in a kiss. I closed my eyes instantly and leaned into the tall body in front of me. After he pulled away we climbed into my ship and we went to the Bebop.
Jet was surprised to see his comrade, as beat up as he was. But hey, we were back together again right? And it's not like you can walk away from that.
Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop, nor do I own the characters, but they're just at my disposal. Mwuahahahaha!
I sat at the corner of my bed, a cup of tea poised in one hand. I sighed, not really thirsty but Jet thought it was a good idea that I had at least something in my stomach after a good few days of not being able to look at anything related to food. The view from my room was amazing, the surface of Mars below me and I knew that if I wanted I could go down and see the ruins of the building he died in.
Well there it came again, those tears that didn't seem to end. I wiped at my cheeks in order to try and keep myself looking decent. I had to keep up appearances, even if it was just Jet and I in this piece of crap that he likes to call a space ship. Ed was gone and Ein went with her, and as much as that girl, or boy, whichever you'd like to call her and that dog annoyed me; I miss them. It made me cry when I heard they left. But then again that was a day that, in all reality I got my memory back, I wish it would just go away. There's nothing for me here anymore. I think I've just stuck around Jet because he's the only one of the old gang who really survived. That's kind of comforting, but neither of us really talk much. We just sit around in each other's company and take in the presence of ourselves. I think that's the more comforting thing.
I took a sip of the tea, it was cold. I hate cold tea. Hell, I don't even like cold alcohol that much. But I've taken to the bottle a few times in the past week or so. Mostly to forget, maybe because it's the only thing that doesn't remind me, but hey, it's alcohol and that's all that matters right? I took the cup back to the kitchen and set it by the sink, Jet would complain that I take these living conditions for granted but after a while he'd pat my shoulder and leave it alone. It'd be washed in a matter of a day or so anyway. I think that's why I'm staying around here with him; he understands why I'm not myself. I don't think a lot of people would really care.
We've done pretty well; I've gone after a few bounty heads. I guess just to pass the time and keep my mind off of things. They weren't anything special, but just enough for Jet and I to be comfortable for a while. I don't think either of us are ready for any big jobs yet. This ship seems really damned big when there's just two of you on it.
"Hey, Faye, I'm gonna head out for a bit, can you keep an eye on things here?" Jet asks me as I leaned on the counter.
I nodded. What was I supposed to do? Go with him? Please, the less I have to interfere with his life the better. I'm done with that. I tried meddling with that lunkhead with the fuzzy hair, and look where it gets me? All I get is a heart full of pain and my mind racing with ways that I could have helped.
I think I'm just trying to not think about him. Every time I do I just break down. And I don't even know if he's dead, you know? But if he wasn't he'd have already found his way back up here days ago. I think I miss him more than I thought I would if I left.
I think back to when I ran off to Callisto and told them I didn't want to be followed. Truth was, I wanted to be followed more than anything in the world. It was my luck that Gren found me and took me in. Too bad Vicious got to him, but I think Spike had said he would have died anyway. But it wasn't Gren that I'd wanted to find me; it was that fuzzy haired moron that had managed to find himself on that desolate hunk of rock anyway. Go figure, right?
Oh god, I can just picture him in my mind. Those eyes staring down at me from a good three inches above mine and them filled with a warmth that could make anyone's heart melt. Well, when he was in a good mood anyway. But I can see him leaning in a doorway just over there, leading into the bedrooms. Why did he have to go off and leave me here like this? Why'd he have to go after Vicious like that? And why didn't he want any help?
I shot my gun off at him, well, not AT him but because of him. Put some damn good holes in Jet's second level floor too. I got chewed out for that but I think he understood why.
I remember when he told me to look into his eyes. The one that was a fake saw only the past. He was walking through a dreamland. And sadly he'd found his fairy tale princess, courtesy of me. I kind of want to kick myself because of that. I'd heard she died, and when I heard that I knew Spike wouldn't be far off. But that doesn't help to stop the want of him to come strolling into the room and insult me. He died finding out if he was alive or not. I hope he found his answer and that it was the one he wanted.
I shook my head and felt the tears roll down my face again. Jet wasn't around so I could cry freely. I sank to my knees and sobs overtook me. I wrapped my arms around myself, trying to get a handle on reality. I cried there for a while, on the kitchen floor. But I got up and ran to my room after I couldn't stand the thought of Jet coming back to seeing me like that. I lay across my bed and sobbed into one of the pillows. I could feel myself start to shake again and I looked up from the tearstained cotton pillowcase to the headboard. I hiccoughed a few times, trying to regain composure. My eyes cleared for a bit as I took a few deep breaths. It wasn't right for me to be crying like this. He was gone and I had to accept that. My eyes wandered to a picture in a frame on the nightstand that Ed had taken while we were on Ganymede. It's not too bad. I smiled as I leaned closer to it. Spike had that sour, " I'm going to kill you if you flash that camera in my face" kind of look, Jet had a smile on his face and I was seated In front of the two of them, Ein in my lap. I could feel the tears well up again as my gaze settled just on Spike.
I started to cry again, but not for very much longer. I buzzed Jet and told him I was going out too. He was on his way back anyway and when he saw me I guess he could tell from my face that I had to get away. I wiped my eyes again and headed toward my ship.
After I'd landed back on Mars I took to wasting a few hours at the dog track, my favorite hobby. I lost most of what I'd brought, but the thrill was gone. Without Jet to yell at me for wasting my money it just wasn't the same. I tossed my tickets in the garbage and found myself a bar to waste another few hours in.
I'd just ordered another refill for my scotch when the door opened. The bells jangled and I shrugged, another old drunk coming in to tell stories. Just like those three old men that seemed to follow us around quite a bit. I shook my head and gazed down into my drink. The ice my scotch coated glistened in the dim lighting. I smiled to myself, thinking of all the nights Spike and I had shared actually talking and not fighting in some bar late at night after Jet had taken to his bonsai garden and Ed had fallen asleep somewhere on the ship. We did that a few times, smoking a pack of cigarettes and knocking off a bottle of vodka or whatever out tastes wanted at the time. It made me smile to think we had some decent conversation.
Someone took a seat beside me and I turned to nod my head. A bandaged face nodded at me from under a baseball cap. I cocked an eyebrow but didn't say anything more. A crutch stood beside the barstool he sat on and I blinked at the sight of it, both of us taking out a pack of cigarettes and him lighting his up. I searched my pockets but found not lighter.
"Spare a light, stranger?" I asked, pointing to the blue plastic Zippo in front of him.
He slid it over to me as he pointed to a bottle of whiskey behind the bar and the bartender poured a glass for him. I lit my own cigarette and inhaled deeply, sliding the lighter back. I exhaled, the smoke billowing around us as we smoked in silence, every so often one of us reaching over to the ashtray and tapping the butts off the end of out lighted cancer sticks. It was almost like Spike and I back only a few weeks ago. It made me want to cry.
After a while I couldn't stand it anymore. I dropped a twenty on the counter, the last of my money, and didn't care whether or not I had change, let my smoking partner pay of his charge with it. That'd be my good deed for the day, let a hurting man have his drink without paying. God knows I had a lot of nights where I wished for that kind of niceness.
I headed back to my ship, whistling a tune that I had picked up from Spike when I'd met him. I'd accused him of being a Goujo, and told him I was Romany, a gypsy. I walked with my hands behind my head, as I was prone to do. But instead of showing off myself in my customary yellow outfit that consisted of hardly anything but a bra and shorts, I'd opted for a black skirt that reached halfway to my knees and a black half turtle neck. It bared my midriff, but even during mourning a girl has to give the men something to look at.
I stopped a few paces from where I'd parked the ship, hearing someone behind me. I turned and found the man from the bar limping his way toward me. I reached for my Glock that was in a holster in the back of my skirt, but put my hand down as he neared me. He held out his hand, a few wulong clasped in a bandaged fist. I cocked my head to the side, the now darkening sunlight hiding his face from me. I took the money and uttered a soft thank you and he turned to go, but stopped after a few paces on that crutch.
"Hey, Faye, thanks for the drink. Hope you and Jet haven't worried too much." He said, waving his other hand and started off again.
My eyes widened at the sound of his voice and I ran after him, my eyes filling with tears again. I stopped in front of him, searching the hidden face between the shadow of the hat and the bandages for a familiar feature, anything that would justify that maybe my pounding heart wasn't for naught.
Then I saw them, he'd shed the hat, the same green fuzzy hair sticking out at all ends above those chocolate eyes that haunted my dreams for the past two weeks. My eyes overflowed in tears and I almost fell to my knees.
"Spike?" I whispered up to the figure that seemed almost a walking mummy.
He smiled down at me and wrapped one of his arms around me. I cried into the black jacket and he hugged me close to him. I smiled after a few minutes and looked up into his eyes.
"Well, what did you think happened? I'm a cat, remember? I still have six lives I can walk away from." He smiled down at me and I playfully slapped his arm.
"Get you a ride back home?" I asked, linking my arm around his waist.
He nodded and we walked to my ship, though I knew it'd be a tight squeeze. I opened the hatch to get in and started to help him climb up but he caught my hand and stopped me. I looked at him with a confused look as he leaned down and caught me in a kiss. I closed my eyes instantly and leaned into the tall body in front of me. After he pulled away we climbed into my ship and we went to the Bebop.
Jet was surprised to see his comrade, as beat up as he was. But hey, we were back together again right? And it's not like you can walk away from that.