Title: The Messenger IV
Author: Obsidian Mist
Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own Cowboy Bebop, what were you thinking?
Archived: Here (no da) but if you would like to post on your site, just
drop me a note at ObsidianMistmsn.com
Warnings: If you haven't seen the end of the show, don't read this. Also
there is some language.
The Messenger IV
What is lovely never dies.
But passes into other loveliness.
-Thomas Bailey Aldrich
"Dead." Mankind has made an ugly habit out of designating four letter words to be vulgar and crude, and neither the tall man nor the dark- haired woman were strangers to such forms of conversation. Why was it then that this four-letter word loomed like a cloud on Venus over them? Both puffed away on their nicotine sticks avoiding eye contact. Conceding that if they didn't see anyone they would thusly be alone. Her throat clenched and her stomach lurched several moments later when the hideous word had time to sink in. Spike wasn't going to come back. She had already expected that, remorse over his loss to that fallen angel. But...he truly couldn't come back even if he wanted to. Five, ten, twenty years down the line he wouldn't ever again dock his baby and saunter in. Even if Jet made the biggest bowl of bell peppers and beef that fuzzy haired guy would be absent from the meal. Never again in the history of mankind would those sarcastic remarks be made while flying far to fast in a pink souped up craft. The fingerprint he had left in her mind and unfortunately on her heart as well could never be removed. Tears flowed down her cheeks, their coolness little relief to her warm flesh. Left hand rose to dam the flow, the right trembled with the force of her agony and finally dropped the still hot cigarette.
No matter how many more years she lived, Faye Valentine would never forget this one moment in time, never let the man who had caused those tears fade away in her memories. But would he, wherever he was, remember the second woman to love him? If he did, how would his spirit regard this fool who tried to care for a man already tied to another woman? The thought made her chest tighten, caused her heart to ache both figuratively and in reality. No, she would not allow those emotions to mix in. Just as he'd refused her, she would refuse that rejection to become a part of her.
Jet lifted his view from an inspection of his shoes to that woman's face and was surprised to see her crying. Not a theatric two tears streaming down a porcelain visage but twin streams flowing over a ruddy nose accompanied with a choking sound emanating from her throat. Hell, she really cared about him. The discarded cigarette's smoke curled up like a hand reaching toward the stars. At any other time the scene she created would have made him uncomfortable. Men like him didn't deal well with crying females since they were usually the ones to make them cry in the first place. However it soothed him slightly. No man should exit the world without a woman crying over him, and since Julia wasn't around to bid farewell, Faye would give him that sendoff.
Flopping to her knees, the one person on Bebop who never seemed to give a damn for anyone but herself wailed and keened like a heartbroken siren. Any dignity Faye wanted to preserve was forgotten as she let grief consume her wholly. Knowing that Jet was in still in the room didn't embarrass her in the least. How can one feel such petty emotions as shame when they've lost something so dear?
"I'm so sorry." His voice seemed deeper more prophetic. Unable to comment, she merely nodded, thick hair obscuring her vision. She wasn't acknowledging his words but rather returning them to him. If it hadn't been for her, that lunk head might still have been there bitching about how hungry he was. If only she had never run off and met up with Julia. Never agreed to play messenger between star-crossed lovers. She had no right to take on such a role, no right to have abandoned Bebop in the first place and expected to be let back on again.
Ten minutes, twenty, thirty passed by the pair to wrapped up in misery to mark time's eternal journey. Literally out of tears, she brushed messy royal purple hair out of bottle green eyes. Absently she wished for a smoke but was too tired to bother. Jet had, at some point, sat down on the couch, head buried in hands. And would anyone find issue with him if he eyes did look a little red and his goatee slightly damp? No one that fully understood the heavy weight of loss.
Author's Note: When I saw the last episode of CB, I was, to say the least, surprised. Yet, I feel it was one of the best-done endings for an anime. And I have no lingering doubts about what actually happened. While sad, it was a powerful finale that let you see just how complicated the characters are. Please review this and tell me if there is any more steam left to make another chapter to The Messenger. Or you could just tell me how much you like it! ;-) Obsidian Mist Signing Off
"We're exiting the atmosphere." Jet said softly as if the words were offending. Faye merely snorted with derision. "If I never see this damn planet again I wouldn't give a damn." Still, she looked out the window, to see the fourth planet for one last time. It seemed even redder than in past memory, as if it had absorbed Spike's blood into its mantle and crust. Mars, the god of war. Here Spike, a man who felt he had nothing to fight for, fought to the death. In those last moments, thought she hadn't been witness, he had become a true warrior and began to lose his humanity. Feeling the slight stinging pain behind her eyes, she quickly took out her nail file and worked out the ragged edges. "Where are we going?" She asked trying to make the question sound mundane. She took comfort that she could use 'we' in that sentence, in the fact that Jet wasn't booting her off anytime soon. "Ganymede. We could both use some time. And I have contacts there so we can hunt another bounty." His shoulders bunched but still he kept turned from her. "It's what we do." He said in a tone even deeper than usual. They stood there on the bridge in companionable silence for an hour or two. It was surprising how easily they stood each other's company now, in silence or conversation. Though, more often than not, it was the former. Both had never felt so abandoned or so alone and that drew them together, formed an invisible line that connected them both. They were a woman without a past, or a place to go home to, and a man who would give anything to forget his. If they lost each other now, or even down the road, could they truly remain existing?
Three days later they landed in the harbor of Ganymede and felt earth beneath their feet for the first time since...In a tacit agreement, neither ever mentioned that horrendous day or the actions resulting from it. The wounds were still too fresh and required tight wraps.
The Messenger IV
What is lovely never dies.
But passes into other loveliness.
-Thomas Bailey Aldrich
"Dead." Mankind has made an ugly habit out of designating four letter words to be vulgar and crude, and neither the tall man nor the dark- haired woman were strangers to such forms of conversation. Why was it then that this four-letter word loomed like a cloud on Venus over them? Both puffed away on their nicotine sticks avoiding eye contact. Conceding that if they didn't see anyone they would thusly be alone. Her throat clenched and her stomach lurched several moments later when the hideous word had time to sink in. Spike wasn't going to come back. She had already expected that, remorse over his loss to that fallen angel. But...he truly couldn't come back even if he wanted to. Five, ten, twenty years down the line he wouldn't ever again dock his baby and saunter in. Even if Jet made the biggest bowl of bell peppers and beef that fuzzy haired guy would be absent from the meal. Never again in the history of mankind would those sarcastic remarks be made while flying far to fast in a pink souped up craft. The fingerprint he had left in her mind and unfortunately on her heart as well could never be removed. Tears flowed down her cheeks, their coolness little relief to her warm flesh. Left hand rose to dam the flow, the right trembled with the force of her agony and finally dropped the still hot cigarette.
No matter how many more years she lived, Faye Valentine would never forget this one moment in time, never let the man who had caused those tears fade away in her memories. But would he, wherever he was, remember the second woman to love him? If he did, how would his spirit regard this fool who tried to care for a man already tied to another woman? The thought made her chest tighten, caused her heart to ache both figuratively and in reality. No, she would not allow those emotions to mix in. Just as he'd refused her, she would refuse that rejection to become a part of her.
Jet lifted his view from an inspection of his shoes to that woman's face and was surprised to see her crying. Not a theatric two tears streaming down a porcelain visage but twin streams flowing over a ruddy nose accompanied with a choking sound emanating from her throat. Hell, she really cared about him. The discarded cigarette's smoke curled up like a hand reaching toward the stars. At any other time the scene she created would have made him uncomfortable. Men like him didn't deal well with crying females since they were usually the ones to make them cry in the first place. However it soothed him slightly. No man should exit the world without a woman crying over him, and since Julia wasn't around to bid farewell, Faye would give him that sendoff.
Flopping to her knees, the one person on Bebop who never seemed to give a damn for anyone but herself wailed and keened like a heartbroken siren. Any dignity Faye wanted to preserve was forgotten as she let grief consume her wholly. Knowing that Jet was in still in the room didn't embarrass her in the least. How can one feel such petty emotions as shame when they've lost something so dear?
"I'm so sorry." His voice seemed deeper more prophetic. Unable to comment, she merely nodded, thick hair obscuring her vision. She wasn't acknowledging his words but rather returning them to him. If it hadn't been for her, that lunk head might still have been there bitching about how hungry he was. If only she had never run off and met up with Julia. Never agreed to play messenger between star-crossed lovers. She had no right to take on such a role, no right to have abandoned Bebop in the first place and expected to be let back on again.
Ten minutes, twenty, thirty passed by the pair to wrapped up in misery to mark time's eternal journey. Literally out of tears, she brushed messy royal purple hair out of bottle green eyes. Absently she wished for a smoke but was too tired to bother. Jet had, at some point, sat down on the couch, head buried in hands. And would anyone find issue with him if he eyes did look a little red and his goatee slightly damp? No one that fully understood the heavy weight of loss.
Author's Note: When I saw the last episode of CB, I was, to say the least, surprised. Yet, I feel it was one of the best-done endings for an anime. And I have no lingering doubts about what actually happened. While sad, it was a powerful finale that let you see just how complicated the characters are. Please review this and tell me if there is any more steam left to make another chapter to The Messenger. Or you could just tell me how much you like it! ;-) Obsidian Mist Signing Off
"We're exiting the atmosphere." Jet said softly as if the words were offending. Faye merely snorted with derision. "If I never see this damn planet again I wouldn't give a damn." Still, she looked out the window, to see the fourth planet for one last time. It seemed even redder than in past memory, as if it had absorbed Spike's blood into its mantle and crust. Mars, the god of war. Here Spike, a man who felt he had nothing to fight for, fought to the death. In those last moments, thought she hadn't been witness, he had become a true warrior and began to lose his humanity. Feeling the slight stinging pain behind her eyes, she quickly took out her nail file and worked out the ragged edges. "Where are we going?" She asked trying to make the question sound mundane. She took comfort that she could use 'we' in that sentence, in the fact that Jet wasn't booting her off anytime soon. "Ganymede. We could both use some time. And I have contacts there so we can hunt another bounty." His shoulders bunched but still he kept turned from her. "It's what we do." He said in a tone even deeper than usual. They stood there on the bridge in companionable silence for an hour or two. It was surprising how easily they stood each other's company now, in silence or conversation. Though, more often than not, it was the former. Both had never felt so abandoned or so alone and that drew them together, formed an invisible line that connected them both. They were a woman without a past, or a place to go home to, and a man who would give anything to forget his. If they lost each other now, or even down the road, could they truly remain existing?
Three days later they landed in the harbor of Ganymede and felt earth beneath their feet for the first time since...In a tacit agreement, neither ever mentioned that horrendous day or the actions resulting from it. The wounds were still too fresh and required tight wraps.