He counted the various tubes and hoses that connected to Spike's body, ticking off their functions in his head. One to feed him. One to take the waste away. One to help him breathe. A few shot painkillers into his veins. Most of the tubes belonged to the various monitors that beeped and clicked in a bizarre cacophony all throughout the room. Listing the form and function of each of those little tubes sticking out of Spike helped Jet forget that those tubes and needles were in his friend, his partner. If he thought too much about that, Jet was afraid he'd start running and never stop.
He still hadn't decided if he was angry, sad, relieved, or maybe some depressing mixture of the three. Spike had been like this for four days. Jet knew he wasn't coming back from this. Whatever had been Spike Spiegel fled the battered, weak body long before the doctors ever stuck their tubes and their needles into his skin to keep him alive. The body on the bed was just the husk of his friend. Just a husk and yet Jet couldn't let go yet. Not yet.
When the doctor approached him and said he was listed as Spike's next of kin, Jet squinted up at the man and tried to feel surprised. He wasn't. All he and Spike had had for a long time were each other. Then came Faye and Ed and her damned dog. For a minute, just for a minute, Jet thought they were all going to be okay. Not anymore. Faye, Ed, and that damned dog were long gone. Jet supposed he could find them again if he wanted. He was a bounty hunter after all. But why bother? They knew how to find him. Maybe they were happy wherever they were.
Spike was leaving him, too. The doctor had whispered that as next of kin, Jet could end this. Spike wasn't coming back. Never again would they fight over the last package of instant noodles or split a cigarette or hunt down a bounty in that near silent partnership that usually worked so well for them. He'd had the disk authorizing the removal of life support for three days now, but every time he thought to press his thumbprint on the screen, Jet hesitated. He could hear Spike's voice in his head, that sarcastic tone, "Come on, old man. What are you waiting for?"
He was waiting for his friend to wake up and tell him that this was all a bad dream. That in a few minutes, Jet was gonna wake up in his bunk to the sound of Ed breaking something or Faye singing in the shower or Spike bickering with someone. Slowly, the truth was dawning on him that he would eventually wake from this dream, but when he did, he would be all alone. All alone.
Jet sighed and shifted the disk from one hand to another. He stood and stepped near Spike's bed. "Guess you got what you wanted, huh? Just wish you'd let me in on the plan. Guess you knew if you had, I'd never have let you on my damn ship. Hope wherever you are, you don't forget..." He didn't grab Spike's hand or shed a tear. Men like them didn't do that shit. Instead, he only nodded and turned from the bed.
When he pressed his thumb to the box on the screen, Jet almost had himself convinced that the stinging in his eyes was because the air in the hospital was too damned dry.