Myruu! Next chappie! Sorry the last chapter was of such poor content, I couldn't get depressed enough so I kinda struck a writers block. I'll probably go back and revise that chapter in the distant future. But this one should be much better. At least I think so, and my Hedgehog agrees so there! I actually hadn't expected to write this chapter so quickly, only two days! Wow! But that's what those few minutes before you fall asleep are for. ^___^

Anywho, this one has Spike in it too, and the next chapter has Mucho Spike in it, well I plan on it, and if it goes the way I plan, it should be grr-ate!

Happy readings, and thankies so much for those of you that reviewed! I really appreciate it!

~*~*~

BoyCow BopBe

Chapter 4: Time Travel

And life goes on.

Not a pleasant thought if you think too much about it. Life always lead to complications, troubles that one couldn't help but collide with, troubles that you couldn't escape from. Sure, with life there are those precious moments when you feel that your heart might melt because you're so ecstatic, but happiness lasts only for small fragments of time, while anger, sadness, and hatred can last throughout the years. It was so much easier to hate than it is to love, those you hate can never truly hurt you, while those you love can easily do so.

So why do humans love?

And the answer started to form in her brain, and she started to calculate the answer, and it was all coming to her…

But why was she thinking all this in the first place?

It was as if she couldn't turn off her mind, as if she had to keep thinking or she would be empty. She could act and appear normal and unaffected now, but inside she was ripped to shreds and her feelings were so out of wack she could hardly breath and she didn't know when the next mood swing was coming. She felt like a little girl who just started her period, hormones all crazy, and obliged to be confused, angry, sad, and overall a moody little bitch.

But what could you do about that?

Ever since that day, a week ago, when she had shown up at the Bebop, life had been to hell and back, and then to hell again. She couldn't get over the fact that she had fainted. When she saw Spike she had flipped, acting like a frightened child, curious but scared shitless. And when he had jumped at her, she had probably launched herself fifty feet away. When she woke up her shoulder was bruised and sore, and had a headache that could melt ice, not to mention a good-sized lump too. She had forgotten that she had fainted and was wondering what happened when Spike decided to speak.

"You're finally awake? It's been four hours."

She grabbed her covers and pulled them over her nose, then turned toward where the voice was coming from. She was in her old room, she realized, and he was sitting in a chair not far from her, close enough that he could reach out and touch her. She hadn't even felt him sitting there, she hadn't sensed him with the nerve that every human has, yet is not sure what to call it. And there he was sitting, in the dim room, his face only made visible by the cigarette he chose now to light. And her mind was still screaming 'he's dead!' even though she now knew he wasn't. She couldn't hide from it anymore, yet the covers pulled up so high only her eyes were showing, were still a sense of reassurance that she could hide, even if it was a false one. It hid her from the realization that nothing could hide her from Spike if he decided to come and get her.

And then he spoke again.

"Look, Jet told me this was hard on you, even if I don't know why. So he told me to tell you what I did after I left." And she continued to stare at him, so he continued his story, even though he was aware that the 'after I left' he was about to tell her was not the one to which Jet was referring.

"First I got something to eat," he said to try and lighten the mood. It didn't work. So he continued more seriously. "Then I decided that if I was going to drop in and see you, I might as well see Jet too, even if I didn't want to. The old man took it better than I thought, he didn't pull a gun on me like someone I know."

And he waited a bit to see if she would add some sarcastic bitchy comment. And she didn't, she just stared at him. So he continued again. "Then I decided that I wanted my old life back, even if that involved a bitchy shrew and a psycho kid and a dog." And she still didn't say anything. So he continued, his mood soured a good bit.

"So we picked up Ed off of Earth somewhere, and came back to get you. Since Jet knew you wouldn't come here if he told you I was here, he told you Ed was here instead. Then you showed up, saw me and fainted."

She still stared.

"And that's the fucking end," he finished bitterly, his mood somehow darkened by her lack of response, even though he used to wish she would just shut up. So why this attitude now? And he stood up and left, slamming the metal door behind himself.

She had continued to stare.

And as she thought back, she covered her face with her hands and wished she could go back to change it, wished she could go back and give another reaction. It was a mistake that she wished could be erased, that stupid thing you do and as you think back you realize how utterly stupid it was in the first place and you wish you could go back, if only for that instant, and change that something. You tell yourself over and over that if you could go back to change that one thing that you wouldn't feel the way you do now. You plead with unknown forces and then convince yourself you were only thinking to yourself, yet you pray at night and tell yourself you were only joking, then you try praying again with the slight hope that if you're serious the gods would take you seriously and grant your wish.

Then you realize how pointless your thoughts are, you realize you can't go back in time, and see how you were wasting time, energy, and most importantly, the remainder of your sanity.

And she realized she was having conversations with herself to try to make herself feel better.

"Am I pathetic?" she asked the ceiling, as she lay on her old bed in her old room in the Bebop. "Why am I still here, anyway?" Then she answered her own question. Because food was free here, even if her instant noodles tasted better than the crap Jet served, because she could talk to someone if she felt like it, which she rarely did, and because by being here she felt she could regain sanity. That if she stayed near Spike things could be the way they used to be.

"And they won't," she answered herself again. And as she stared at the ceiling, doing nothing and wearing the same shorts and shirt that she had been wearing the last four days, she realized the ways she was living really was pathetic. She was living off of false comforts.

So what was she going to do about it?

Nothing. Things will work out, she convinced herself, and realized she had been doing a lot of self-reassuring lately.

Pathetic.

"I need a shower."

~*~*~

Bang, bang!

"Get the hell out of there, Spike!" Her rosy white fist pounded on the metal bathroom door so hard there might be a bruise.

"In a minute!" he yelled back. That had been his response for the last thirty-five minutes forty two seconds… and counting.

"Damn it! I need a shower!"

"Then why do you go back to your place and take one?" he barked back.

She felt crushed. Near him she didn't know what she would be feeling next. Near him she had mood swings. Near him she wasn't stable. So she figured she get away from him for a little while, the maybe she would come back.

Maybe.

She walked away depressed again, not exactly knowing why, but knowing that she was. It was better to just get away from the cause of emotional conflict. Step away from the Spike, she heard her mental police shouting.

The bathroom door slid open and Spike looked out. That woman had been so moody lately. She had acted more like a real woman, which in his opinion was basically moody and constantly Bs'ing, and he found himself actually caring if something was wrong with her. But what could be wrong? She had been here for a week, couldn't she just get over whatever was bogging her down?

He began to wonder what was making her so moody. It couldn't be him; they had already had a talk about that. Just the two of them. They talked not long after she woke up from her fainting adventure, and it was a good long conversation of five solid minutes. He had explained what he had done after he left her apartment, leaving out the things that would sound like he actually cared about her, and she had sat there and stared at him. Then he left. It was kind of a one sided conversation since she hadn't said anything, but it was still a conversation.

Why didn't she just get over it?

"Women are so damn emotional," he muttered sourly before calling out, "Hey, Faye! I'm out!"

And she had turned to look at him, and he felt his heart in his throat. She had an intense stare, deep green eyes that could cut through your soul, and she leaned against the wall and sighed.

"I'll take a shower at my apartment, the hot water's probably gone anyway. Don't expect me back, I'm going to hit a casino." Faye couldn't look at him. She might either break down and cry, or do something irrational. And the thought 'Spike looks good in only a towel' kept popping into her head. This, the thousands of thoughts racing through her mind, emotional distress, and food and sleep deprivation, had her unstable at the moment. Going to a casino and playing her thoughts away would be nice. She still had money from that last bounty head, and besides, she wanted some noodles, tortillas, and beer.

"Are you sure that's smart? Why blow all your money?" he asked as he leaned against the wall just outside the bathroom door, garbed in a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and beads of dripping water.

Certain that she needed to leave; she stood up straight and turned to do so. "Why ask if you don't care? Besides, it's my money."

This time he heard the pain in her voice, and it echoed and reverberated through his ears. The realization that he had been denying finally struck him full force. She had been sulking because of him. And he actually felt guilty. He tried to shake the feeling, convince himself that he didn't feel guilt towards anyone or anything, but he couldn't.

"I wouldn't," he said firmly, answering her question, and turning to get his cigarettes from his jacket that was still lying on the floor in the bathroom.

She froze in the hallway as his words registered.

No, he doesn't care. He's just a lying bastard like always.

She struggled with more cases of self-reassurance as she kept her back turned on him and continued to walk. She couldn't turn back and risk the chance of facing what she wasn't near ready for.

And he leaned against the doorway and watched her walk away, yearning for her to turn back and tell him it wasn't he who messing up her life. He had constantly told himself he had no affect on others lives, the fact that he might actually be was messing him up. So he tried to reassure himself that he wasn't. That was when he realized he had been doing a lot of self-reassurance lately.

"Damn that woman messes me up," he grumbled before grabbing his clothes and heading off towards his room to get dressed. That woman was going to need supervision.

He couldn't have her messing her life up too bad.

At least, not because of him.


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There ya go! Hope you liked it. Much better than last chappie huh? I can't wait to do them at the casino! You know there's gonna be LOTS of fun there! So many ideas. I think I'll make Spike and Faye *censored* and *censored* and then *some more censored*, it's gonna be grr-ate(I like saying it that way). I thought I really hit the mark about some of those feelings. Haven't you guys ever wished you could go back in time so you do the secret praying and stuff? Well, I've done it. And I realize I'm kinda stupid for doing so, but hey, they say anything's possible! ;^___^ Excuses, excuses.


So see you next time on the next episode of,


The Real Folk Blues! *Ending song starts to play* 


I think I will put that song in one of my next chappies. I have no clue how long this thing is going to be.