Gunshot Serenade

A/N: The last chapter! Please, remember to stay tuned for authors notes. You'll want to see them. Trust me.

Disclaimer: After a year, I still don't own Cowboy Bebop.

Chapter Twenty:

Keep it like a Secret

So I take my good fortune
And I fantasize about leaving
Like some modern-day gypsy landslide
Like some modern-day Bonnie and Clyde
On the run again…

-PJ Harvey

Alyssa Delamater had no idea how long they had been there. The four of them, five, if you counted the little dog, seated tallest to shortest in the uncomfortable chairs lining the narrow, perfectly white hospital hallway. Only the little girl, Edward, broke the exhausted silence, humming some pretty, nonsensical song as she harassed the dog.

"I wonder if the rain is clearing up," Jet said awkwardly, interrupting the girl's song.

"That's what the news said," She replied, answering only so he wouldn't be embarrassed.

"It's about time," Spike chimed in languidly.

As silence smothered the weak conversation, Alyssa smiled. Life was a crazy thing. She thought she would never see Jet again, after their little romp on Ganymede three years ago. Yet here she was, tangled up once more with him and his crazy friends. Almost like a twisted little family, the four of them.

She had read somewhere that if you spend long enough with the same people, your brain begins to associate them with family. At first, it had sounded like a load of bullshit, but watching Jet play mother hen to Spike, Ed, and Faye had changed her mind.

In a sad way, it was fitting. He had always wanted a family. It was just like him to go out and find one. The reckless son, the troubled daughter, the sweet youngest child.

They even had a god-damned dog.

Some kind of profound sorrow was slowly building in Alyssa's rib cage, squishing her lungs against her ribs until she could barely breathe. She had wanted a family too, once. A family with Jet. And then she had left to follow her dreams across the solar system. First Venus, back to Ganymede, then Mars. At first, she had thought she was coming out on top. Alyssa had gotten the career, the travel time, the long nights spent at high class parties.

But in the end, it was Jet who won.

Because when it all was all said and done, it would be Jet who had changed someone's life. Helped someone along the way. Who would Alyssa be remembered by? The regulars at her bar as the woman who had contributed to their alcoholism. Rhint as the woman who had dumped him on a whim.

And that was all.

"Alyssa," Jet said suddenly, turning to her. She snapped out of a sort of trance, meeting his dark eyes and forcing a smile.

"Yeah?"

"What's next for you?" He sounded like he had been carrying on a conversation with Spike, although knowing the skinny man, she doubted he had given a straight answer. That seemed to be his game; making you spill your guts while he evaded the question. He was good at it, too.

"Same as usual," Alyssa replied, tilting her head to the side, her smile slowly becoming genuine as her eyes traced Jet's strong face. "Running the bar. Looking for an apartment. You know, business."

His eyebrows rose slightly at the mention of her finding an apartment. She grimaced. She hadn't meant to let that slip.

"You don't have an apartment?" He sounded concerned.

Alyssa shrugged. "I used to, up until yesterday. I broke up with my boyfriend. How about you? Where are you off to?"

Bet Jet still wasn't over the apartment thing. "He didn't let you keep your home?" He growled.

"I let him have it, Jet. He needs it more than I do. I know how to take care of myself."

Jet Black was silent for a moment, searching her eyes for any sign of pain or worry. When he found none, he heaved a sigh and leaned back in his chair, watching the ceiling very carefully. Alyssa took the opportunity to study his face, committing it to memory. She would probably never see him again. She knew that.

But in her heart of hearts, Alyssa also knew that she loved him. Maybe more than anything. And if she didn't take at least a memory with her, she would hate herself forever.

Jet felt her gaze and turned his head to her, an unsure smile on his lips. His hand slowly slid into hers. Her brows rose.

"You could stay with me." He said, so quietly she could barely hear him. "I was thinking of staying on Mars anyway…" He trailed off.

There was a moment of silence as Alyssa Delamater processed the information. Gradually, a smile formed on her face. She squeezed Jet's hand gently.

"Really?"

He nodded, his own smile broadening. "Really."

Somewhere along the way, Jet had lost him.

He couldn't pinpoint the exact time; it had been gradual. A steady shifting of views, a measured change of heart. Slowly but surely. Like evolution. He couldn't have seen it happening. But it had.

Now, sitting in his hard little chair in the hospital corridor, that fact became excruciatingly clear to Jet Black. Because as he watched Spike Spiegel, leaning lazily against the wall opposite, he had no idea what his old partner was thinking. And that was bothering him more and more as time went on.

One hand gripped tight to a necklace, pushing a pattern into rough flesh. Dark eyes moved from Spike's angular face to the crucifix strung on a snapped silver chain in his hand. Alyssa, now fast asleep on his shoulder, had given it to him when they had first arrived at the hospital. The doctors had found it in Faye's pocket when they had taken her in for surgery.

Jet was willing to bet Spike had given it to her. But again, he couldn't be sure. Because when it came down to it, he didn't know the man slumped against the wall across from him.

Not anymore.

And maybe he never had.

That was depressing as hell.

Jet looked up as a door closed sharply, heralding footsteps down the hall towards them. It was a doctor, a skinny bald man with a hooked nose, moving towards the sad little group at a steady, faster than normal pace. As he drew closer, Jet saw dark, beady eyes focused on Spike.

"Mr. Spiegel!" He called, practically slithering down the hall, stopping short when he reached the row of seats. The doctor's gigantic snout wrinkled in distaste as he looked over the sleeping girls and dog, his body curling back into itself.

Obviously, he didn't like animals.

Ein yipped in his sleep and the doctor almost had a hernia.

Stupid quack.

"Mr. Spiegel," The doctor said, starting afresh with distaste in his voice, "Miss Valentine is out of surgery, if you or your… friends… would care to see her." He shot a murky glare at Jet. "She's still asleep, but should be awake in about ten minutes."

Spike looked down at the doctor, his eyes hooded. "Thanks, Doctor," He replied languidly, slipping his hands into his pockets. A lopsided grin appeared on his face.

The physician, whose nametag read Dr Verpent, slowly smiled as he reached out to shake Spike's hand. Jet's old friend was a little slow on the uptake, but eventually extended his hand as well. "My pleasure, Mr. Spiegel," Dr Verpent said, his voice almost adoring. "She's in room 209. If you need anything, let me know."

"Sure," Was the short reply.

Jet watched, an eyebrow cocked as the doctor slipped away down the hall. As Spike chuckled softly, shaking his head, the aging man glanced back down at the necklace in the palm of his hand.

"What the hell was that about?" Jet asked, standing with a grunt as Alyssa shifted in her sleep.

"I pay him," Spike muttered, eyes on the ground.

"I see."

There was a moment of silence as Jet joined Spike against the wall, still gripping tight to the crucifix.

"You should go see her," He said suddenly.

Spike quirked and eyebrow, glancing sideways at Jet. "Why me?"

"Just get it over with."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Spike's voice was light, but there was a strange undertone Jet didn't like.

Shit.

"Just go in there, Spike. I'll be in later. It's you she wants to see now."

Letting out a sigh, Spike pushed out into the middle of the corridor, turning his back to Jet. He lingered.

"I guess you know," He said, very quietly, without looking back.

"I have an idea," Jet replied.

Silence hung thick in the air, broken only by the deep breaths of the sleeping girls.

"It's best this way. For everyone."

Jet shrugged, even though Spike couldn't see it. "Hell. I've got my woman. I trust you to make the right decisions when it comes to yours."

Spike scratched his head, one hand still in his pocket, and laughed slowly, softly. "She's not my woman."

Leisurely, he began moving away, towards room 209. Jet called to him suddenly. He half turned around, quirking an eyebrow.

"Here." He tossed the necklace to Spike, who caught it, arm outstretched, olive hand grasping the broken silver chair. A beautiful cross swung gently, a few inches below his hand, winking as it turned.

"What the hell is this?" He asked, drawing it closer and squinting to get a good look. Green radiated from the perfect jade beads still strung on the snapped necklace.

"You tell me," was Jet's reply, "The doctors found it in Faye's pocket. I figured it was yours." A smirk formed slowly on his face as Spike chuckled and tossed the necklace back. Jet made sure to steal it out of the air with his real arm. His eyes flickered to the crucifix, solid platinum set with amethyst, splayed out in his hand.

"I've never seen it before." Spike was saying, turning back around to continue on his way.

"Hey!"

He paused. "Yeah?"

Jet didn't hesitate as he threw the necklace back, knowing that even with his back turned, Spike would catch it. He did.

"You keep it," The Black Dog insisted gently, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's not mine," Spike reminded him, as if he had forgotten.

"I know that, dipshit. But I don't want it. Alyssa didn't like it."

"It's Faye's. Give it back to her."

Spike's hand was tight on the necklace, almost like he didn't want to let it go. Jet shook his head slowly, glad his old friend's back was to him.

"No," He grunted, sighing. "You give it back to her. Just…" He hesitated. "Keep it like a secret."

Spike was laughing. "What the fuck does that mean?"

Jet couldn't help but smile. "Give it back to Faye when you're ready. Until then, it's yours."

With a quick nod, Spike was moving forward, slipping the necklace into his pocket as he walked slowly away.

The sound of his footsteps faded gradually as he disappeared around the corner, leaving Jet in the sterile hallway.

He shook his head slowly, eyes flickering to the ground where a single rosary bead had fallen.

Jet Black could feel his old heart breaking one more time.

Spike Spiegel never could let things go.

They just stuck with him, weighing him down until eventually he collapsed. And that was fine. Ultimately, he had gotten used to it. Learned how to live in retrograde; thinking of the past first, the future last. In that way, he had been able to keep what made him who he was without burdening himself with anything else.

The way he saw it, the present just didn't exist.

So why worry about it?

But now, lounging in the mint green armchair in Faye's small hospital room, he saw where that had gotten him.

Purgatory. Just biding his time until someone made a move. A quick reaction, then back to waiting. For an otherwise forgotten grudge to make itself known, an old love to come back to him, an eternal nightmare to finally end.

But none of it was happening. And none of it ever would.

That hadn't mattered before, and it didn't matter now.

His brown eyes settled almost reluctantly on Faye's form, laid out perfectly on the small hospital bed. Tubes were hooked into her bloodstream, shooting pain medication and water through her veins. She looked like some kind of perfect, untouchable junkie, laying there, hooked up and passed out. Too black hair splayed out on a too white pillow, pale, translucent skin shimmering in the grey light.

Her steady, deep breaths, almost in time with the beat of her heart monitor, reached Spike's ears. He smiled slightly.

She would be okay.

A hand slipped into a pocket, pulling out a lighter and a new pack of cigarettes. Slowly, deliberately, he slipped one into his mouth, inhaling deeply as it caught. Grinning as it burned all the way down.

Spike sighed. Faye looked almost like a child, there on the hospital bed. He stood, the cigarette smoking in his hand, and made his way to her bedside, his sharp face blank as he looked her over silently.

Inhale

Exhale.

Silver smoke settled lightly over her body. Past the heavy silence of the room, Spike could hear the rain cease its beating on the window. He glanced outside. The clouds had broken, proudly displaying a pink stained sky and setting sun.

So the rain had ended. That was good.

The cigarette, only half spent, slipped easily out of his fingers to land on the ground. The toe of a black boot ground it into the floor. Hands slid into pockets, one gripping tight to a necklace tangled around olive fingers as he turned away from the bed.

It'd be chilly outside.

Spike Spiegel smirked and caught one last glance over his shoulder, shrugging deeper into his trench coat.

It was those cold north winds.

Faye came around slowly. She felt heavy, disoriented. But even through the fog created by the lingering effects of anesthesia, she heard it.

The footsteps, moving slowly away.

He wasn't coming back.

Green eyes opened reluctantly to face a blank ceiling. Needles tugged at her arms. Her own heartbeat pulsed steadily in her ears. The cigarette smoke, fresh from his lungs, hung over her, rich and deep and suffocating.

And once more, she was alone.

She had told herself it would happen again, eventually. Her dreams had said it, her head had screamed it. Faye had been ready. But it was so much more painful than she had remembered. That emptiness his quiet perfection left behind in the pit of her stomach.

One more time, she told herself how stupid she had been.

She should have known.

Sitting up was painful, but she did it anyway. Around her was the hospital room she recognized vaguely, from snippets of consciousness, fleeting, unclear memories. She could still hear him, down the hall. Silent as he walked, his footfalls echoing back to her.

He was leaving again.

Just like that.

Faye folded her legs into her body, ignoring the pull of the needles in her skin as she wrapped her arms around herself. A pale cheek rested on knees. She sighed as her eyes fell on a crushed cigarette butt, discarded on the floor. Blinked back halfhearted tears.

A sweet, shattered smile appeared slowly on Faye's face.

She wouldn't cry.

Couldn't cry.

All she could do was stay, just as she was, and wait.

Because she knew that eventually, the pain, along with Spike Spiegel, would become just another memory locked behind green eyes.

Faye Valentine sat perfectly still.

See you, Space Cowboy…