The Heart of the Bounty

A fanfiction

Chapter 10: Out of Touch

I could've easily started after some bountyheads, but Jet insists that we wait for Spike's recovery. "The last thing we need is two disabled bounty hunters on this ship," Jet said to me just moments ago. Sigh. I do love this work, but I also just really need to get off this ship. I need to get away, especially from him.

It's not that I'm repelled by him or anything. I've pretty much accepted the fact that now I am attracted to him. For whatever reason, this attraction just isn't going away. I'm sick of the denial, and I'm just hoping for the feeling to die. I'm also sick of rationalizing it. I'll leave that for Spike to decide, if the attraction is even returned.

There are times I think it is, though. The few times I'd even allow myself to look him in the eye I saw a change in his general temperament. He seems kinder more and more, especially when he looks at me. I'm either going paranoid or he really is changing. Or am I the one changing?

This whole situation is just so perplexing. It just brings me back … Not to the time I first entered the Bebop, but why I was going crazy over the last bountyheads we were chasing. Yes, I was aggravated that Spike was so stubborn about it. Jet and I were really uneasy, and only told Spike to proceed if he'd get one of us to help. God, he's so arrogant he didn't even bother to ask for help! I was with him throughout the whole investigation. Jet made sure of that. I remember there was something appealing about the passion he had in cracking down on the mystery. Was that how it started? Was it my longing for such a passion, either for myself to feel or for someone to feel for me, that made me act the way I did?

Dammit, I'm rationalizing again. If only there was more to do on this ship other than walk around and, well, in my instance, hide. All I care to think about is hiding allows me to protect the secret, but confronting him can give me the answers…

Unfortunately, I have nothing but a bed and a few dressers in my room. It's really not meant to entertain. I've paced this room up and down maybe 1,000 times by now. I give in, I submit; I go into the common room to watch "Big Shot," my last remaining hope for my boredom.

I slowly creep up toward the living room. Is he there? No one is there, actually, as I peer through the doorway. Aah! It's a comfort to know that, at least for a few moments, I can be alone and away from my room at the same time. I walk up to the computer screen and tune it to the show. Thankfully, "Big Shot" is on. I hate when my efforts go in vain.

"Howdy, Cowboys! It's time for another episode of Big Shot! The show just for the bounty hunters! Here's the skinny on the latest bounty head:

"Lenny Carver, a weapons manufacturer, has taken a turn for the worst with his money AND materials. He was last seen on the moons of Jupiter. His bounty is shooting up, too, since he's been listed for a while now. Catch him and you can get your reward of … 60 million Woo-longs! Just remember, kids, the bounty's rising the more he gets out there!"

I shut off the screen. Perfect. That kind of bounty can totally make up for the time we've lost on the ship because of Spike. Ugh, Spike. It seems like time has to stop for him so much; he allows it to happen, too, with that eye of his. That eye… I'm still haunted by my last vigil because I saw the eye change. What does that mean? That Spike is quite the mystery, and so is this newcome feeling for him.

I sigh and start to get up, and a booming voice startles me in my place, making me grip for the ends of the seat. "Good to know you're still alive," Spike said, cool and sly. After I get over the sudden shock of his voice, I glance at him confused. I'm waiting for a sarcastic comment to follow, an addendum.

"That's it? No 'It started feeling good around here without you' or anything?" I ask, feigning a similar cool tone in my voice.

Spike chuckles lightly. I think he even blushes. "Nah, Faye. I'm still too .. agh! .. worn out for that," Spike says, suddenly bending over slightly by the doorway.

This maternal instinct thing is really throwing me off in this relationship we have; I hurry over to him, ready to mother the wound. "Hey, take it easy. Are you okay? Can you make it back to your seat?" I take the arm supporting his weight on the doorway and drape it over my shoulder. My insides flutter a little as I notice his shirtless body's close proximity to mine.

"I thought I could," Spike says, wincing in pain. He's having trouble breathing, and he applies pressure to his chest with a weak fist.

"I'll help you walk over, okay?" I offer. So far, so good … so abnormal. No biting remarks, no cynicism. I'm still waiting for that slap in the face of reality; I'm waiting for the heartbreak.

As we walk over, I start feeling the overwhelming weight of his body over mine. I cringe and wince a little; I really am such a lightweight. I limp as much as he does, and even grunt as we make it halfway to his seat.

"Ugh, are you okay, Faye? I know I pack on a bit of weight," Spike said. The tone in his voice is almost reminiscent of the way he'd speak to me before, when we were definitely unfriendly with one another.

"I'm a strong girl, I'll make it," I insist, now struggling to speak and grunting a little more. I grind my teeth and allow myself to continue. I'm surprised I didn't start with the snide remarks.

When he finally reaches his seat, we both sigh a huge sigh of relief. Spike scratches the back of his head, unconsciously flexing his beautifully developed tricep muscle. "Ugh, thanks, Faye. You didn't need to do that," Spike replied, meekly.

With the energy returned to me, I'm able to compose myself and feign a cool attitude. "Oh, it's no problem. Besides, it's better for you to sit here than by the doorway for hours. You'd be blocking my way and I'd have to move you anyway."

Spike laughs, but without an angered retort. Did he actually find that funny?

"Take a load off, have a seat," Spike says.

I finally bite the bullet as I sit and ask, "Why are you being so nice to me?"

"I should ask the same about my rescue," he replies, still with that trademark cool tone of voice. Although, I see in his eyes some nervousness deep inside. He's either a damn good actor or he really is just the same old Spike.

I am stunned by his question. I just stare blankly, my eyes gaping, not knowing how to respond. I don't want to ruin the mood now with what I said to Jet earlier: "What's worse than losing this bountyhead is losing our best bounty hunter!" No, I can't tell him that. This new vibe between us is growing on me. I'm getting so attached now, and letting go would just be emotional suicide. All I can do is shrug, and I do. "I'm not that inhuman. I would never want anything to happen to Jet or you, no matter how much we get on each other's nerves."

Spike looks down a little and smiles. When his head returns up, there's this new aura in his look. His eyes seem grateful, happy, lovelier than ever. "Thanks," he says. Before I get a chance to respond, he adds, "Before you even ask, I guess we can say after so many near-death experiences, it can eventually change your perspective a little."

If I was blushing before, my face is now completely fire red. "Oh, I didn't mean to—"

"I know, Faye," Spike says. And he's right, too. It really feels like we finally have a mutual understanding of one another, a nice understanding at that. "You know, Faye, this is kind of nice. Kind of peaceful. We're already under a lot of stress with money, have been for a while. Maybe … maybe reducing the tension between us could help."

"And the almighty Spike backs down," I blurt out, with a hint of cynicism. Dammit! If I could just slap myself in the face, I would…

"Yeah, I know, strange isn't it, Faye?" Spike replies, ignoring my comment. "Honestly, though. I guess toning it down between us can be more productive than counter-productive. What do ya say?"

I stare at him. He's smiling. He rarely smiles at me, except for when he's started waking from this last accident. His eyes are glowing, beaming. I don't know why. It's odd to me, but it doesn't scare me as it has the past few minutes. It's almost like he understands, he can see right through me. Maybe he understands my attraction. Maybe he even returns it…

I focus on his eyes. I almost forget that they're supposed to be different, because now they have an equal amount of depth in color. His eyes are so glorious now, and so different. What changed him? Hell, why should I care what changed him? Inside, I'm glad that things could be different between the two of us. "You're right," I say, sheepishly. I start to walk away, feeling too nervous to continue a conversation and thinking the conversation is over. For some reason, I walk right past him. The attraction feels so magnetic— we constantly find ways of being close to one another. I swing my arms in my gait, and just before I'm completely out of his reach, I feel the scrape of his hand, reaching for mine. I stop mid-step to half-turn toward him. His eyes look eager, a little disappointed, but his smile persists. I can only smile faintly back, and then I rush out of the room.

I've stopped questioning the why and how completely now. All that consumes my thoughts is this: "I'm falling for Spike Spiegel."