The Witness
By Starzki
"Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him! Fuck him!"
With every outburst, she struck the metal wall with her fist. She was drawing blood, probably breaking many of the small bones in her hand, but she didn't stop, didn't seem to notice. The mantra continued, angry and grieving for what felt like an hour but was actually 5 minutes. Tears coursed down her cheeks from squinting, swollen eyes.
Jet looked on, still and silent as a statue. He had just told her, had just found out the news himself. He wasn't surprised. He was pretty sure that Faye wasn't surprised either. He didn't feel the need to go to her, comfort her, make her stop hurting herself. He stood motionless, bearing reluctant witness to a breaking heart.
"Fuck him! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!"
Her words changed, as did the ferocity of her punches. She weakly leaned into the wall, slid down it to her knees, rested her face against the coolness of the steel. She sobbed weakly. "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me."
Jet still stood. He felt sorry. He reflected on the word, knew that it was overused and trite in most situations. But sorry was the only way he could describe how he felt. He was sorry for Faye, that she had to crumble so openly. He was sorry for Spike, who hadn't wanted to die, but had. But he was mostly sorry for himself. He felt such sorrow that despite the slabs of muscle beneath his skin, he felt too weak to move, almost too weak to breathe. His heart felt wrong in his chest, it beat too quickly or too slow, he couldn't remember. Sorrow collected in him like stone and ice; he would not, could not, move from the doorway. It was a true sorrow that was as rare as true love.
Faye had stopped punching the wall. She cradled her injured hand in her lap, head down, hair obscuring her face. But Jet could feel her accusing him across the room. She hiccupped and shook with sobs. She would never forgive Jet for watching her like this. She curled up and fell to one side, fetal, crying softer, trying to breathe.
Still as death, Jet watched Faye regain control again. She brought up her eyes, wet and pale with her tears, looking like washed Depression glass. Her eyes implored him. Her voice was raw and naked, "What are we supposed to do now?"
Jet didn't answer at first, didn't know if he could work his jaw, his vocal cords. But then he heard his gruff reply, hearing it sound uncaring even though they both knew it wasn't.
"We remember him."
Faye burrowed her forehead between her knees and began crying again. "No," she rasped. "Hurts me." She moaned pitifully. "I hurt. I hurt. I hurt."
"We remember him," Jet repeated and was finally able to turn his head away and shut his eyes. It was the only privacy he could afford her for the time being.
A/N: I've had one hell of a week. It was just the absolute worst. So I wanted to write something short and moody and this was the result. Reviews will hopefully make this next week better. –S.
