Disclaimer: (sigh) The end is near, and yet here I am, writing disclaimers...

A/N: After this chapter, there's only one more! T.T

Chapter 14: Don't Bother None

Faye was pretty sure that she was in shock. This had to be shock, right? That had to be why she couldn't stop pacing asround the waiting room of Tharsis Medical right now, waiting to find out if either of them were alive. She'd taken to nervously chewing on her lip somewhere in the process, which she only now noticed, and stopped with an exasperated sigh. Damnit, she HATED being worried! They owed her big time for turning her into a basket case like this! As if the ISSP hadn't given her enough of a heart attack as it was...

From the moment of their arrival, it had felt like time had tripled its pace. Suddenly the approaching Crows were surrounded by police vehicles, and an ambulance was landing next to Hammerhead, paramedics rushing out almost before it stopped moving. Faye hadn't been able to do anything more than gape; the last thing she'd expected was an intervention. Or a cavalry, depending on how one looks at it. As far as she could tell, Spike was speechless too. Then again, he might have just finally passed out. She couldn't tell then.

"Keep going like that, and we'll have to pay for the floor, too." Faye paused in her pacing—she hadn't even realized she had started up again—at the voice of Bob, or as she had first recognized him, 'that cop.' They exchanged looks for a moment, then Faye wordlessly sat down, crossing one leg over the other and leaning her elbows on the back of her chair, while Bob took a seat at a respectful distance, two chairs down. Almost immediately, Faye's foot started to tap nervously in the air. Bob eyed her with faint amusement before turning to the electronic clipboard he'd been given, with the task of putting in Jet's information. Luckily enough, he still had it from when Jet had belonged to the ISSP.

For a moment, they were silent, Faye subtly observing as he transferred the information. Then she moved her gaze back to Bob, looking at him a bit questioningly.

"What?" he asked after another moment, keeping his eyes on the clipboard. Faye glanced down briefly.

"Nothing...just..." her eyes moved back up, "...you're really doing all this—grabbing a bunch of guys to save our lives, paying for all the hospital bills—all for Jet? Just because he was in the force with you?"

Bob gave a slow shake of the head. "I owed him one."

"Everyone owes him for something or other," she retorted, unconvinced. "Not everyone would go this far."

That made Bob give pause for a second, looking up from the clipboard and toward the ceiling. Then he turned his eyes to her. "He would," he finally answered, shrugging as if to say that that's just how it was.

The silence following his simple statement was broken then, with the footsteps of the medic who had taken Jet. Both of them stood up at once, instantly alert, eyes intent on the doctor's facial expression.

Wiping his brow with a handkerchief, he addressed Bob first, as he was the one he knew. "I've seen some crazy things in my time," he said with a slight drawl, "but it's been a while since a patient of mine's slipped on by like your friend has. He's got some kinda luck on his side."

Bob's eyes sparked to life, but he remained tense, as if hesitant to take the chance that he was interpreting it wrong. "Yeah. So you think he'll make it?"

The immediate nod in answer to his question made both listeners seem to deflate with relief. "Oh, yeah. S'like I said," the medic continued. "Pure luck. He got hit with two of the blades you were talking about, but they didn't hit anything vital. Just caught him in the arm and grazed his side. The bullet was what had us worried, but he's past the worst of it. Should be waking up later tonight, tomorrow morning at the latest."

"Thank GOD!" Faye suddenly burst out, her hands balling into fists as if she was ready to stalk right into his hospital room. "I have got one HELL of a bone to pick with him when he does!" Ignoring the odd looks she was getting from both men, she quickly switched gears, now that she had the doctor's attention. "Do you know about anyone else?" she continued, the adrenaline now pumping.

"Ah...lemme think..." the doctor replied, scratching his head. "Yeah, right. The guy with the green fuzzball on his head ended up passing out on the way here, not surprising, if I remember his symptoms right. Should be awake pretty soon. And the other one, that John Doe case..." at that, Faye shot Bob a glance, but the cop kept his eyes forward, "...Somehow, he got a hell of a dose of some heavy sedative. A hell of a dose. We haven't id'd it yet, so all we could do was get some charcoal in him to absorb some of it. We don't wanna risk drugging him up with anything else, so for now, it's just up to time."

Bob nodded his assent, stonefaced from the moment "John Doe" was mentioned. "So when can they go?"

"For the first two? I'd say a night or two, long as there's someone who'll be there with 'em. Make sure they take it slow." A quick glance in Faye's direction, and he went on. "For the other one, I can't say 'til we've figured out what got in his system. Should know that by tomorrow, then we can give you a straight answer."

"Alright. Thanks." With a nod to each of them, the doctor disappeared into the hall, while Bob went to give the clipboard to the receptionist, leaving Faye suddenly on her own in the middle of the waiting room. Frowning, she turned on her heel after Bob, catching him once he was out of hearing range of the receptionist.

"Isn't there some kind of cop-rule about lying for crime-lords?" she challenged with a raised eyebrow. Flashing her a quick, affronted look, he all but scowled at the ground.

"Yeah. There is. And for the record, I'm not the first one to break it." Seeming to quickly get over the moment of offense, he slowly shook his head, letting out his breath. "It was a special request from Jet. He left a message with the day and time, and tagged it on the end. Don't know why. Spent three days with the guy and decides he's safe enough to walk. Never said I knew how his brain works. Just said I owed him."

"Vicious is a killer," Faye argued, frowning at the floor. "He isn't...isn't human. He's—"

"Half dead." Bob's interjection prompted her to look up again. For the life of her, she couldn't tell a thing from his face about his opinion on Vicious. "Could be out of our hands tomorrow, for all we know. 'Til then, I'm keepin' him off my mind." With that, he seemed to decide that he was done with this conversation, and returned silently to his chair.

Faye stood where she was for several moments after, boring a glare into the ground that could have cut through steel. He was right, of course; accepting things was all they could do right now. Faye Valentine had never been a fan of accepting things she didn't like. She liked it even less when it was the only option.

But then, lately she was beginning to see that that was how it was. Things would happen that she didn't like. Things that would make her want to scream, or...put five bulletholes in Jet's ceiling, for instance. Things that she wouldn't be able to change. And she was now beginning to understand that even if she had to step aside for a while, that it didn't mean the world had forgotten her, or that she was useless.

There was still somewhere that she belonged.

Several hours, stitches and injections later, the hospital finally released the three patients into Faye's care. This wasn't something she was ecstatically happy about; she had so many pills and instructions to keep track of that it made her head spin. Thankfully, Bob had come to the rescue again, to a point. He at least had enough pity on her to help her get them back to the Bebop. She sure as hell didn't want to carry them in; even though all of them had regained consciousness at some point, it was in short bursts, and now they were so drugged up on painkillers that she doubted they could stay on their feet, much less walk straight.

Well, at least Faye only had Spike to deal with on the way back; it had been a miracle that she had ever managed to cram all three of them into her tiny ship, and police vehicles were naturally roomier. She and Bob had also agreed that it was best to keep Spike and Vicious away from each other for now, despite the little ceasefire that seemed to be in effect between them. It all worked out pretty well, actually; not only did Faye NEVER want Vicious on her ship again if she could help it, but Bob wanted to keep an eye on him. He had explained to her that yes, they were pretending they didn't know anything about him now, but that in the future, if he even looked like he was thinking about committing a crime, they would be there, no holds barred.

They managed to get everyone back to the Bebop without too much grief, retiring Spike and Jet to their rooms, and Vicious to the couch. Both Ed and Ein were overjoyed at their arrival, and it took much insistence from Faye and, finally, a whine from Ein to convince Ed that quiet would be a good thing just then.

Once everyone had finally gotten settled again, Bob took his leave with a tip of his hat, and Faye went into her room and quite literally collapsed. She'd known coming to the rescue would be hard, but she hadn't expected it to be this tiring. Glancing at the clock, she saw that there was plenty of time before she had the oh-so-glamorous task of waking everyone up to take their medication. What was she, a nursemaid!

Well. Until then, she decided, she would get herself some nice, long beauty-rest while the ship was quiet. Just let them try and deprive her of that.

Alright. He was alive. After spending God knows how long drifting in and out of consciousness, catching glimpses of white walls and blurred faces, Jet at least knew that much. He was alive.

For a while, he hadn't been so sure. He remembered a glint of silver and a crunch that could not have been good, and had wondered if that was going to be it. It was only when one bout of consciousness lasted longer than the others, giving him time to notice the twin aches in his side and his arm and a chance to look around, that he started to put things together. He was in a hospital. If he was in a hospital, he wasn't dead yet. And since he wasn't seeing any tunnels or white lights, he guessed that he wasn't going to be dying anytime soon.

And now, he was back on his ship, he observed as he began to reluctantly let go of sleep. He was back on his ship, he still ached all over, and there was someone else in his room.

His brain at first only noticed the last detail in passing, as he was still trying to wake up. Then he thought about it again, and woke up a hell of a lot quicker. His first instinct was to sit up, but he quickly rethought that and chose instead to see just who was trying to scare the hell out of him.

From where he leaned against the wall across the room, Spike's eyes glinted with faint amusement. "Hey."

"Hey." Jet had to blink a couple times for his brain to catch up with the wake-up call, then he eyed Spike skeptically. "You supposed to be up?"

"Not really." Spike waited in silence for Jet to painstakingly push himself into a semi-sitting position, his eyes wandering off to some corner of the room.

"...What is it?" Jet asked at length, already a bit winded from even that much movement. Damned syndicates. His leg wasn't enough for them?

His arm resting absently over his midsection, Spike glanced up again. "Not trying to push," he replied calmly, "but I think you've got a story to tell."

Jet stared at him for a second, then chuckled slightly in spite of himself. "Yeah. Guess I do."

Five minutes. Five measly minutes! That was the staggering length of time that Faye spent on the nap that she had so yearned for, because that was how long it took for her to notice that Ed was being abnormally quiet. And that the last time she had seen her, she was in the living room.

With him in it.

So, predictably, her nap had ended there, with Faye jumping out of bed and sprinting for the main room, all the while cursing her damned womanly instincts.

Practically skidding around the corner and into the room, Faye stared for a moment, then nearly groaned aloud at the sight she was met with. Vicious was still unconscious, and Ed wasn't dead; but instead, she was sleeping in a catlike position, curled up right at his feet. Or, more accurately, right on them.

AHHH! This is the sort of thing that Jet is supposed to deal with! Faye's mind screeched in despair. She considered getting him up to take care of it, but immediately felt almost cheap for even thinking about it, considering how he had almost died not so long ago. Damnit...!

"Edward!" she hissed through her teeth, keeping her feet rooted to the floor where she stood. No way in hell was she getting closer to that guy than she had to. However, Ed continued to sleep soundly, completely oblivious. Faye felt her eyebrow twitch in annoyance. "Ed!" she tried again, in a sharp whisper. This time, she got some semblance of a response.

"Whaaaat, Faye-Faaaaaye...?" Ed mumbled sleepily, shifting a little and nearly giving Faye a coronary.

"What do you mean, 'what!' Get off of him!" Faye ordered in response, trying to keep her voice low but starting to lose her patience.

"Whyyyy...Ed is not hurting anyoooooo—"

"Edward!"

"Alright, alright..." Hardly opening her eyes, Ed slowly slid off of the couch, then curled up again right where she was. It took twice her weight in self-discipline for Faye to keep from slapping herself in the forehead.

"No, Ed..." she corrected the young hacker through clenched teeth. "I need you out of the room. Just...go in Spike's room or something!"

Ed's face pulled into a pout. "Noooo...Ed likes Person-person..."

"ARRGH!" Completely fed up, her fears momentarily left in the dust, Faye marched over to Ed, picking her up and setting her on her feet. One of Ed's eyes lazily opened, and Faye pointed dynamically toward the the hall, her arm sticking straight out from her body. "Out," she commanded through her teeth, remembering once more to keep her voice low.

With a weary sigh, Ed reluctantly turned around, stumbling into the hall. "Faye-Faye looks scary sometimes..."

At that, Faye's outstretched arm dropped lifelessly to her side. That was an insult. Ed had just...! No, Faye, we don't hurt the children...deep breaths...cigarette. Yes. Wonderful idea. All too willing to begin with her de-stressing plan, Faye turned toward the balcony to have a smoke; but she caught a glimpse of something then that made her freeze, her eyes widening slightly as they locked with another pair.

He was awake. Damnit, damnit, damnit, he was awake! And from the look of it, he had been for a while...what was she supposed to do now!

Several seconds passed them before Vicious finally seemed to have seen all he cared to, and silently began to look away. As though she'd been set free, Faye abruptly turned away from him then, paying no attention to the rapid pace of her heart as she went onto the balcony and shut the door firmly behind her, with every intention of smoking her lungs black.

Just from looking at him, Jet couldn't quite tell what Spike was thinking about as he listened to the end of the explanation. He was pretty sure he had seen a hint of amusement at some points, which served well to balance the shadow that settled over him at others. To the relief of Jet's mind, Spike had eventually given in and eased himself down to sit against the wall shortly after Jet began, giving his body a much-needed break.

With a glance at the clock, Jet was surprised at how much time had passed without Spike falling asleep or zoning out on him. Granted, Vicious was a sensitive subject for Spike.

...Well. And he was probably still a little drugged up. He didn't doubt that that likely had something to do with it too.

"...So. Now what?" Spike finally asked after a long silence, his eyes fastened to the spot where one of the bed's legs met the floor.

Jet cracked a weak grin. "Actually, I was gonna ask you that." Brief pause. "...He said he didn't plan on doing anything yet," Jet went on. "I don't know how far I can trust him on that, but..." Spike put a stop to his words with a slow shake of the head.

"Don't worry about it," he said at length, his voice shifting slightly as it always seemed to do when his past was conjured. A knowing calm manifested itself in his eyes, and he was quiet for several moments. Then a slow half-grin crept across his lips, and using the wall as a support, he pushed himself to his feet and grasped the door handle. "Got anything to eat here?" he asked lazily as he pulled open the door.

Jet's face was unreadable for a moment, before it relaxed into a knowing smirk. "There's some bellpeppers in the fridge. Don't eat 'em all, we're running low." Spike waved a hand in assent as he left in the direction of the kitchen, swinging the door shut behind him. Jet didn't even try to hide his elation, sinking back against his bed, almost giddy with relief. They'd done it. It had been hard, it had been hell, but they'd done it.

They had brought him home.

To my indomitably exceptional reviewers:

VanillaRose-Ou...out-of...character? (starts to hyperventilate) ...Oh, wait. VanilllaRose says it's okay. Good, I don't need to have a nervous breakdown now. XD So glad you liked the 'Spike-but-not-quite' characterization. That scene was kinda tricky, so thanks for the encouragement! n.n

jdchs-And that is in fact a very good question...one that, unfortunately, can't be answered until the last chapter, which—alas!—is coming sooner than I'd expected it to... T.T

Shteve- :X Not tellin', not tellin', glad you liked it n.n, not tellin'.

phoenix521-Your enthusiasm makes my day:D Breathing is good though. In moderation. ;) I really love your review...

Bob the barbarian-Wondrous, huh? Cool. n.n I do agree that Vicious is a very interesting guy to analyze. That's what makes him fun to write for. :)

Vicous-Hmm, you think? Well, I hope that isn't tainting the experience for you...I see Vicious as a character that's very open to interpretation, based on how little we get in his head in the series. Either way, I'm glad you're still sticking with this fic to the end. :)