Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop
Session 2: The Garden of Eden
Jet sat on the bridge of his ship and brooded over the events of the last two months. They had been difficult and stressful months. He remembered the hardship of trying to deposit Spike and Faye discreetly at a hospital. He remembered watching over them as they healed. He remembered the outrageous bill they had racked up, which cleaned out his savings in its entirety. He remembered being stranded on Mars collecting bounties by himself to earn back the savings mostly for repairs.
After being discharged from the hospital, Spike and Faye had been pretty worthless as bounty hunters…or people for that matter. All they seemed to have done the past month was eat and sleep. They rarely even spoke. Jet thought they were acting oddly despondent.
Heaving a hefty sigh, he gazed out the windows of the bridge. The Bebop slowly approached Venus, where the latest and greatest bounty awaited him. As he stared at the sea green orb and it's swirling, vaporous atmosphere, sadness began to settle into his heart. For most of his life, he had always tried his damndest to view things with a positive attitude. No matter how horrible times seemed, he always managed to keep his head above water. But recently, his optimism had failed him. Not even his beloved bonsais seemed to give him peace of mind anymore.
Telling himself he didn't know why he felt so down would be a lie. He knew damn well why he felt so disconcerted. He missed his old crew. He missed Edward, the little spark of life and happiness he had grown so fond of nurturing. He missed Ein, his loyal companion when everyone else was gone. He missed the obnoxious, loud-mouthed minx that Faye used to be. He missed the nonchalant enigma of a best friend that Spike used to be. He had never realized how lonely he was until they had all come and gone from his life. Sure, two of them were still there, but only in the flesh. Their spirits had both greatly dwindled.
Jet sighed once again and brought the Bebop to an idle just outside of Venus's orbit. On his way to the hangar he stopped in the common room and shouted to no one in particular that he was going out.
His comment received no response.
With a stale expression, he proceeded to the hangar and climbed into his personal ship, the Hammerhead. The engines roared to life and he was gone seconds later.
As the hangar door closed, Faye peeked her head out of her bedroom door. The coast was clear and she was hungry. No, at this point, she was famished. Cautiously, she crept down the hallway praying she wouldn't run into Spike. Strangely enough, they hadn't really spoken since they'd returned to the Bebop. She didn't know why they were avoiding each other, only that it seemed like a mutual understanding. She assumed their near death experiences allotted them both time to rediscover life alone. It was a rational assumption, though it caused her great sorrow. The last thing she wanted was to be alone.
Faye paused before entering the common room. She had half expected to see Spike's lean figure stretched out across the faded, yellow couch. But it wasn't. Staring at the barren couch began to disturb her. She rushed past it and into the kitchen.
She couldn't really see where she was going. Energy conserving Jet had turned out most of the lights before he left. The kitchen had always been rather dim though, even with the lights on. Today, it was practically pitch black. The sound of her bare feet hitting the metal floor echoed softly as she instinctively avoided colliding with any objects. She eventually found the fridge and sighed in relief after she discovered there was indeed food in it this time.
Most people thought leftovers were disgusting, but on the Bebop they were a delicacy. Faye nearly squealed in delight when she found a portion of chicken alfredo –with chicken – that Jet had cooked a few nights ago. It was hidden in one of the bottom drawers but still fair game in her opinion. She carefully removed it from the fridge and fished chopsticks out of a drawer, praising Jet's organizational skills.
Just as she lifted a piece of chicken to her mouth, she heard a lighter flick. The brief ignition of a flame followed revealing the sneaky culprit to be Spike. She frowned before shoving the chicken into her mouth. So what if the fluff head had caught her red handed?
Spike stood silent for several minutes only barely illuminated by the glowing ember of his cigarette. Faye continued to eat irritated by his mute presence. She wanted to yell at him to get the hell out of the kitchen, but her pride wouldn't let her condescend to speak first.
"Were you planning on hogging that all to yourself?" came the snide comment she had been waiting to hear.
"Yes," she replied curtly with a snort. He was becoming predictable in his old age.
"Thought so," he retorted simply as he continued to puff on his cigarette. "How does your wound feel?" he asked after a considerable pause.
The question caught her off guard and she was glad he couldn't see the shocked expression on her face. Or maybe he could.
"It…uhm…well…it…" she struggled to find the words to describe how her first healing gunshot wound felt. It still hurt quite a bit at times. She supposed the damaged muscles would never truly be the same again. Two ugly scars had formed where the bullet had entered and exited marring her formerly perfect, pale skin. She had grown horribly self-conscious of her abdomen and vowed never to wear a mid drift top again. She still remembered the mournful night she had tossed her yellow outfit into the incinerator. All these thoughts passed through her mind and words failed her.
"Hey…are you alright?" asked Spike letting a shred of concern leak through his apathetic façade. He could see her face, thanks to the aid of his mechanical eye, and noticed it go through an array of emotions before settling on melancholy. He approached her slightly.
Faye bowed her head as stepped closer to her. She felt a few hot tears slide down her cheeks. Why did she always cry when she felt this frustrated? No…it wasn't frustration. It was loneliness. Or a combination of both.
"Are you…crying?" asked Spike confusion evident in his voice.
He was too close. Too close to her body. Too close to her weaknesses. And to think, this was the first time he had spoken more than two words to her in two months. All of a sudden, sadness turned to anger. She clutched the container of leftovers with sure hands and shoved it into his gut. Dropping his cigarette, he exhaled painfully, so she figured she must have hit one of his wounds.
"Eat up," was all she said before running out of the kitchen.
Spike stared at the door perplexed for several minutes, one hand holding the container, the other scratching his head.
Are women always this confusing? he wondered. He tried to think back to Julia, but he had never spent enough time with her to say for sure what she was really like. He eventually shrugged and started eating the last of the chicken alfredo.
Jet walked around the streets of Venus marveling at the beauty of the planet. In his opinion, it was the fairest planet humanity had colonized. Eventually, he came to the warehouse district his informant had led him to. He knew the area was vast, so he reasoned he'd be searching for a while.
He wandered past numerous, tall, rundown buildings sweeping over them with articulate, ice blue eyes. None of them seemed to fit the description he'd been given. It was after about a half an hour of aimless walking that he found himself in a shaded alleyway. As he was strolling down it, someone abruptly ran into him.
Jet was roughly shoved to the side. His metallic shoulder hit the stonewall of a dilapidated warehouse and he slid to the ground. Looking up in a daze, he saw none other than his bounty running away from him. The part of this incident that shocked him the most, though, was the woman his bounty was pulling along with him. He had her by a pale arm that stuck out from the blanket she clutched around her body. She wore no shoes on her feet as they splashed through puddles of filth and her long, dark hair trailed behind her like a veil. Before he could gather his senses, he heard a gunshot fire from behind him.
On instinct, he drew his gun and returned fire. Seconds later, the unknown gunman fell to the ground dead. He clambered to his feet and turned back to his bounty. When he registered the sight before him, his feet seemed frozen to the ground. After shaking off his initial response, he slowly approached his goal.
His bounty was dead. His name had been Richard Grey, but that didn't matter anymore. His crimes no longer mattered either. He was lying face down in a pool of his own blood no longer receiving the gift of life. But the woman was. She was hunched over his lifeless form desperately shaking the body as if she didn't understand what had happened. She had let go of her blanket to do this and Jet then noticed she wore nothing beneath it. He immediately averted his eyes to the bounty. When she heard his footsteps fall close to her, her head snapped up and their gazes met.
Jet felt his heart constrict. The look in her light green eyes was terribly distressed. She seemed so frightened and innocent at that moment. He moved to inspect the body and she frantically backed up against the wall as if he meant to harm her. A quick pulse check told him that his bounty was very dead. He cursed under his breath and looked up to the woman again, relieved she had now safely concealed her body within the blanket again.
She was filthy. Besides that, she had exquisite beauty. Long, flowing dark brown hair framed her heart shaped face. Lovely light green eyes with thick, dusky lashes started back at him as her full lips futilely tried to form words.
"Who are you?" he asked, his deep voice startling her.
"I…don't…know…" the woman managed to croak out in a hoarse voice.
Jet rolled his eyes. "Great, another Faye," he muttered. "Do you know anything about yourself? A name maybe?" he asked.
"E…Eden," said the woman. "Richard said my name is Eden." Her eyes once again passed dolefully over the corpse before her.
"Do you have anywhere to go?"
Eden shook her head. Jet sighed loudly, his shoulders slumping in exasperation. His first logical thought was to hand her over to the authorities and forget he ever saw her. But for some odd reason, his heart protested that course of action. His heart told him that they would still consider her Grey's accomplice, despite the absence of her memory. They would question her relentlessly; perhaps even accuse her of playing dumb when she couldn't answer their inquiries. They may even lock her up so that she could 'come to her senses' and leave her there to rot. Jet knew how the system worked. He had been part of it at one time.
"Come on," he said reluctantly as he stood. Eden obeyed, yet still looked weary.
"Where are we going?" she asked in a timid tone as she followed his large frame down the alleyway.
"Back to my ship," he answered sternly. "Maybe I can help you find out who you are."
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Authors Note: To all my reviewers, Thank You so much J I greatly appreciate all the input! "Session 3: I Need a Favor…" coming soon!
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