A/N: ok, I'm giving you a warning; don't expect a happy ending for this. It will be Faye x Spike as always, but this won't be a "lets get married and live happily ever after" fic ok? It's coming from experiences I'm having right now, with a certain deadly disease. Remember, This is a deathfic. It has six chapters, most of them long for my standards. This may appear in the beginning like a fluff fic, but it does have a deeper meaning. Anyway, I despise fluff.
Disclaimer: If I owned Cowboy Bebop, and was hilariously successful, I would have made it so Julia never existed, and you'd know that Spike lived, and him and Faye would be together foh eva! Wow, that was way too happy for this fic.
Sweet Misery
By: Rynn Abhorsen
"Spike-person! Ed has a question for you!" Spike sighed, eyes closed, as he lay on the horrible yellow couch. Ed sat on his chest, thumping her fists on his face. Finally he grunted,
"Fine Ed! If I answer your question, can I go back to sleep?" Opening one eye laboriously, the red-haired hackers face filled his vision. She squealed and answered,
"Two questions! Then Spike-person can go back to sleep."
"Fine." Spike sat up, propping himself on his elbows. The maniac computer genius half vaulted-somersaulted into a crouch on the floor. Spike ran a hand through his green-tinted hair. Ed asked,
"Where is Jet-person?" Spike grumbled under his breath, you got me up for this? He answered grudgingly,
"Ed, you know Jet is here, on Venus, turning in a bounty. Remember, you helped catch the guy. He said he'd be back in about two hours and we should stay on the ship." Ed nodded and launched straight into the air. Hanging like a demented primate from the ceiling fan, she inquired,
"What's wrong with Faye-Faye?" Spike mumbled and replied,
"Why do you think something's wrong with her?" Ed scratched her head and supplied,
"Faye-Faye hasn't been arguing, eating, or sleeping well."
Spike thought back, those were all true. He had been full lately, partly because Faye always refused food and went straight to her room. She hadn't been on a bounty hunt in days, and she also hadn't been bitchy lately, merely shrugging when Spike said something meant to anger her. Smiling to himself he thought, I haven't been called lunkhead in days. But sleeping well? Faye never slept really well, always yelling things in her sleep, but lately, she hadn't slept, just stared at the ceiling, coughing often. Ed was still staring at him intently, awaiting an answer, so he replied,
"Maybe she's sick?" Ed nodded and squealed,
"I'll get her!" Before Spike could stop her, she bounded out of the room and into Faye's. She dragged the woman into the living room, and Spike was caught off guard by the change in Faye's appearance.
Her already pale skin seemed like paper, translucent. Her normally lively emerald eyes seemed completely dead, focusing rarely, and her violet-tinged hair was plastered to her forehead. Ed dragged her by the wrist into the room and Spike made room for her on the couch. She murmured quietly, as if subdued,
"What's going on?" Ed spoke almost quietly,
"Faye-Faye hasn't been herself lately, are you sick?" Faye was about to answer before a torrent of coughing took her, and she put a hand to her mouth. It wasn't a quiet cough, but one that seemed to tear from her body, coming in quick gasps. Her shoulders shook with the pure force of the coughs, and her whole body hunched over to accommodate the pressure of her lungs. Spike stared wide-eyed as the woman's coughing slowly subsided, and she wiped her mouth, resuming her normal posture she spoke,
"I don't think I'm sick." Then Spike noticed the flecks of red on her palm, where her hand had been covering her mouth.
"Faye," he spoke softly, "Is your mouth cut?" She looked questioningly at him and answered,
"No." before her voice cracked and she began yet again to cough. Spike watched tensely as it stopped after about a minute. There was more blood on her palm and nails, and small amounts around her mouth. He said quietly, not wanting to alarm her,
"I think you might be bleeding internally." She shook her head slowly and repeated,
"I'm fine." She didn't sound sure. Ed, who had been watching while perched on the back of the couch, asked,
"Faye-Faye, why is your back bruised?" Faye twisted her head to look at the fuzzyheaded girl on the couch.
"What do you mean?" Ed reached out a hand and touched a spot on her back,
"Here, and here, and here." She trailed off as Spike looked at Faye's back. Her low cut tank top gave him a view of the blackish spots. They ranged from the size of a dime to almost an inch across. His eyes widened at the pure magnitude of the bruising, no normal wound could cause that. He stood up,
"Faye, you need to see a doctor, soon." She repeated,
"I'm fine!" but was cut off by another flood of coughing, and more blood from her mouth. Spike took her wrist, and called a taxi. As he ushered Faye out the door, he was surprised at the woman's frailty. He could feel each rib, slender as a twig, and the column of her spine. Even the joint of her wrist, and the knuckles of her hand, seemed about to burst from the skin. She walked forward, and he could see how each step took a vast amount of energy from her. She stumbled, and Spike caught her, holding onto her wrist and shoulder. As he supported most of her weight, he had a realization. She weighs less than Ed, he thought. It was true, and also rather scary. She should weigh upwards of a ninety pounds, and what he was holding felt like maybe sixty.
She kept walking in her slow way, Spike still supporting her. The cab pulled up and she slid slowly into the seat. The cab driver, a rotund Indian man with a mustache, asked with an accent,
"Where to?" Spike spoke calmly and evenly,
"ER."