The Heart of the Bounty

A fanfiction

Chapter 2: The World Anew

What an idiot. What a danger-loving, danger-seeking idiot. He should've known that Vicious' posse would outdo him; they've all trained under Vicious' wing long enough to pick up on his battle tricks. Spike really can't afford to hurt himself time and again like this. I know he doesn't enjoy being immobile, so whatever pleasure he derives from all this is beyond me.

Jet left the ship to get more provisions for Spike. That's a dedicated friend for you; even with the blatant personal gap between Jet and Spike, there's still an intimate care for the other. Jet left me here to keep an eye on Spike; easier done than said. He's been out cold for 2 days already, and I've fully caught up with all the info on every possible bounty out there. Thankfully, Ein and Ed are quiet, so I could more easily hear for any sign that Spike still exists beneath his mummy dressings.

I start humming to myself under my breath; I don't know why, either. Maybe subconsciously I hope that it will awaken Spike like it did the first time I saw him in this condition. Maybe I just got sick of the silence. Whatever it was that compelled me to do so, I just hummed. For about a minute or two. I actually get into this euphoric state; it's almost nostalgic. Flashes of memories zip past my eyes, providing me with brief snippets of images of my younger self. Even though I can barely remember my past, I smile a little. I can only imagine it was a happier, more carefree time. Suddenly, I hear my name.

"Faye?"

A faint, weak whisper. Spike! The rush of something to do kicks up my adrenaline as I jump off and rush to his side. I can't understand why I gazed at him so gently; maybe I was lonely. I know the last thing Spike needs as he's regaining consciousness is my biting comments, so I approach him gently.

Sitting at the edge of the sofa, I softly press my legs against his side. Mostly to keep myself on the seat; even in unconsciousness he's selfish enough to take the whole damn seat. Ein nudges his head against my ankle; oh, Ein, and his bristly fur. I hear him sigh; maybe he was trying to say something. I get a sudden rush of fear; what if he's finally come to his end? I try to read his eyes; I see something helpless, a feeling Spike rarely ever feels. I yearn to know what he thinks, so I ask, "Speak to me. Are you okay? What do you need?"

From the little I know about first aid, I remember that body warmth is indicative of his heart beating. I could have very easily pressed my head to his chest or steadied my ear above his lips to see for signs of his consciousness, but his earnest eyes have ensnared me. I cannot let go of his stare; I am left with nothing else but to check for warmth. I reach out to touch his face; a quick shock of nervousness twitches my whole arm before my fingers land on his cheek. Why did I feel nervous? Maybe I was afraid of hurting him further; he'd yell at me relentlessly when he regains his strength if I hurt him. Although I perceived the warmth of his face, an icy cold weighs down my hand. My whole arm tingles with delight as my fingertips brushed lightly against his skin.

In an effort to end the prolonging of this awkward moment, I blurt out, "Good, you're warming up. Welcome back." I cannot understand this at all; I slowly arise from the seat to escape his stare, his locking stare. It became harder and harder to tear my eyes away from his the more I lost contact with his body. When I finally removed all physical contact from him, I nervously muster a smile. As quickly as I can manage, I completely turn away from his dominating presence.

Man, I really must be lonely. I haven't been with a man since … since I was unfrozen. I wasn't even with him, back then. Sure, I've gotten felt up here and there; that was all a ploy, though. My still-intact biological clock is signaling for me to settle; I figured the Bebop was enough. Every woman can be desperate for love, but am I really that desperate that someone like Spike can begin to allure me? Or was that allure there all along?

As these thoughts boggle my mind, I find my way back to my sleeping quarters. I needed time completely to myself to think; I can't bother myself with my promise to Jet right now. I try to logically administer what just happened in my head. Why did this moment leave my nerves a little jittery? It all just brings me back to the beginning. Aside from the obvious allure of adventure, why did being on the Bebop matter to me so much? What was it about the Bebop that got to me? I knew right away that Spike and I must've been close in age, even though mine is quite distorted. I suppose in spite of Spike's overbearing attitude, I could acknowledge that he is attractive. In a rugged, lousy kind of way. I want to criticize him for getting himself in this rut again, but suddenly those thoughts dissipate. All I can concentrate on, all I can picture, all I can think about are those eyes … those longing, dark, deep eyes…