Chapter 3
The Morning After
White noise filled Faye's ears and she struggled to remember what had happened. Her head throbbed with the effort of remembering. The noise became clearer now. It almost sounded like rain but it wasn't quite the same. Had it been raining earlier? She didn't remember being wet that night. Was it still night? Her mind moved sluggishly, her memories flowing slowly over her: a long set of stairs, the top of a building, a group of men standing in formation, a lone figure between them… Her eyes flashed open only to be closed again by the painfully bright light. Wait, where am I? The previous night's events came rushing back into her head with a single painful throb. The docks, the airship, the woman in purple and…
She eased a hand up to touch the side of her throbbing head where the butt of a pistol had left a painful lump; the wound was bandaged. Did they capture me? Faye opened her eyes again, slower this time to avoid the pain and they adjusted gradually to the bright room. Still blurry in their waking state, she squinted around the room to try and make out her situation before falling on a single figure. He was tall, broad shouldered and only a few feet away, yet he was not facing her. The white noise continued from his direction.
The surroundings felt familiar but this was not the time. She needed to get out of there before the guard noticed that she was awake. She dropped her legs off what she now realized was a simple cot. Eyes still blurry she lifted herself up off the cot only to have her knees give way to wariness and she fell to all fours with a loud thud. She cursed the loud noise as she heard footsteps coming her way. A strong hand guided her unbalanced body back onto the cot with an accompanied gruff voice, "You need to take it easy. It's not everyday you get hit on the side of the head with a gun."
The voice was familiar, a voice she hadn't heard in three months and hadn't expected to hear again. She focused her eyes on the face above her, "Jet?" she asked.
The concerned face of Jet Black and the backdrop of Faye's own apartment came into focus before her. "Get some rest," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "breakfast is almost ready."
Breakfast started quietly, Faye felt that the sooner she talked, the sooner the circumstances of her departure from the Bebop would be brought up and thrown in her face. Jet seemed not to care as he went about his business of piling food onto Faye's plate. Wasn't he angry with her? She had stolen his ship, not to mention half his cash. But here he was, taking care of her again and turning a cheek for the tenth time since she met him. How did he find her? No matter what she did she couldn't get rid of him. How stubborn can a guy be?
"I bet you're wondering how I found you," Jet said, finally breaking the silence.
"Actually I was wondering how you were able to make it to Mars City in that heap of trash you call a ship," Faye replied in her usual smug tone.
Jet gave her the slightest sour look before he replied in a calm voice, "The Bebop's still not flyin'. Luckily I was able to hitch a ride to the City and get my Hammerhead back after someone borrowed it and neglected to return it." Jet kept his eyes directly on Faye, his face still as calm as his voice. Faye however was having a harder time silencing the angry voice inside of her.
"So my trip to the city didn't pan out exactly as I had hoped," she bit back at Jet with a hint of malice in her voice. It took every ounce of strength she had to keep herself from diving over the table and wiping the calm look off his face. A continuous loop played in her mind, "He didn't help Spike, he wouldn't help Spike…" over and over again, replaying the memory of Jet trying to stop her from leaving.
"You're just like Spike, always acting and never thinking," he sounded to Faye like a disappointed father, a disappointed father that she didn't need right now. "Never thinking of the consequences of those actions."
"But you chose to save me… why not him?" Faye asked, jumping right to the point.
"Spike didn't want my help," Jet replied immediately.
"I didn't ask for your help eith…"
"He didn't need my help," he interrupted; his hand moved up and gripped the edge of the table.
"That's just an excuse," Faye's voice lost all pretenses of courtesy and her voice rose to an angry level, "you just sat in your own little world of denial and let him walk out your door…"
"Look!" roared Jet, his hand was trembling now. "Spike knew what he wanted and he knew where to find it. When I saw him step into that cockpit, I saw a man who didn't plan on coming back. He was so obsessed with his past that he couldn't see the future I was holding right in front of him! Help him…? I tried to help him for years and he just kept walking right back into the past."
Faye's watery eyes glared at him and Jet surveyed her, leaned closer to her across the table, and his voice fell dangerously low: "I'm in denial? Do you think that if we had burst into that room and ran to his rescue that he would have welcomed our help? No Ms. Valentine, you're the one that's in denial."
At that moment, Faye snapped and all the anger and brooding that she had endured over Jet's apparent apathy flowed freely over her consciousness. She didn't know what she wanted to do but she knew it involved hurting Jet as much as possible. Standing up with enough force to knock the chair she was sitting in onto the ground, a shaky yet quick hand brought Faye's pistol out of its holster and level with Jet's lowered face. His eyes flashed quickly at the quivering barrel inches from his face before turning his gaze upwards to once again stare at Faye. Almost a minute passed. Finally, Jet broke the silence.
"Killing me won't bring Spike back. . . " Jet stated matter-of-factly.
Faye's features were contorted with anger, marring a typically attractive face. An ugly vein appeared over her right temple.
"Nor will killing all the Red Dragons."
What does he know! "That's not why I'm doing this!" Faye cocked the gun.
"Then why are you doing it!" Jet yelled at her and she flinched at the unexpected explosion of sound. "Aside from mindless murder what possible purpose does this one woman crusade serve?"
Faye closed her eyes and stuttered, "I…I'm sorry Jet…" She began to squeeze the trigger and the sound of gunshots filled the drab apartment. A feeling of dread filled her, Oh my God what did I do, she thought.
But Jet's voice brought her out of the daze, "Faye! Get down!" Before she knew what was happening, Faye was being tackled to the ground by Jet. After they hit the ground she began to writhe her way out of Jet's grip before she realized what was happening. Bullets were flying through the small windows of the apartment and riddling the ceiling with holes. "We have to get out of here!" Jet yelled over the gunfire.
Faye and Jet turned onto their bellies and crawled across her apartment to the door. Opening the door slightly, Faye peaked her head around the door jamb in time to see two gunmen running around the corner at the end of the hall. Her pistol already out and ready, she shot one in the knee and the other in the chest, dropping both to the floor. "Come on," she led Jet.
Through the hallway and down the stairs, Faye ran cautiously, her pistol ready and the limping Jet following close behind her; his leg still maimed from being shot months before. Once on the ground floor she headed for the service entrance and the alleyway on the other side. To fire into her windows the gunmen must have been on the south side of the building. If they could get to the alleyway it would lead them to the street on the north side of the building.
The alleyway was clear and when Faye checked the corners of the building she saw that the street was also deserted. Moving onto the street Faye and Jet walked at a brisk pace away from the sporadic gunfire. But before they could get more than a block away, they heard a yelled, "HEY!" and looked back to see four men running in their direction.
They turned immediately down another alley. Faye broke into a run but turned to see Jet walking as fast as he could with his gimp leg. "We should split up," Jet gasped over the obvious pain. Faye, still unsure if she wanted to thank him or kill him said nothing. Jet made his way behind a dumpster and Faye followed. He pulled something out of his pocket. "Here, I was going to give this to you in the apartment but…" he trailed off and shoved the object in her hand; it was an envelope. He pointed to it, "Meet me there in three hours," Jet commanded her, "and cross to the other side of the street. I'll hold them here."
"How are you going to get away with that leg of yours?"
"Just go!" Jet said, pulling his own pistol out of its holster. The four men made it around the corner to the alley and both Jet and Faye opened fire. "GO!" he yelled. Faye fired the rest of her clip as she backed away from the fortified Jet, gave one last concerned look, then turned and ran out of the alley into the street.