Transubstantiation

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Faye briefly woke up. She felt as if she were in motion, although she was lying flat on her back. Her focus cleared to see what appeared to be a large-busted woman leaning over her. Her first thought was that she was getting a shampoo in a salon, as the white-clad chest filled her entire line of vision. Then a white-hot pain shot up through her legs, and everything went grey. Faye was dimly aware of Jet's deep, gravelly voice saying her name, and the squeeze of a strong hand on hers. She drifted out again.

There was a lot of clatter, and many voices filled the air. Faye felt the sting of a needle in her arm. Someone new, a woman, was calling her name. A bright light was being shone into her eyes. Faye's vision came back into focus once again, and she saw a pretty brunette looking into her eyes. The brunette smiled and said, "Hello, Ms. Valentine. I'm glad to see you awake. Where does it hurt?"

"Everywhere," Faye croaked.

"You had a nasty fall. We'll have to do quite a bit of tests, though, and some of them might be painful."

"Yippee."

"We'll start with x-rays, but I need to know if there's a possibility that you could be pregnant."

"Ha. No." The brunette typed something into her e-chart, and then turned to talk to another technician in the room. A thought flashed through Faye's mind, and her eyes grew wide. She reached out weakly with one hand, groaning, "Wait."

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The Bebop was silent. Ed wasn't running around, bouncing a volleyball off every surface. Spike wasn't on the couch, watching endless episodes of Big Shot. There were no loud arguments or the trading of insults back and forth. Everything was tranquil. And it made Faye antsy.

In her mind, the best thing for antsy was drinking. But she was broke, currently in between poker announcing gigs. The season had been a bit off, and she couldn't even catch a stint being arm candy for a tourney or as a booth babe at a convention on Venus. She did take this opportunity to get caught up in domestic chores, like her laundry, but she needed a break from such nonsense. She wondered where the latest stash of good liquor could be on the ship, and then she remembered a stash of her own. Kneeling on the floor, Faye reached under her bed and pulled out a cardboard box. From inside came the unmistakable noise of bottles clinking together.

Inside was a small collection of some decent wine. Not great, but decent. Faye had been trying a new image as a snooty wine-o-phile, and as a result, had gotten some swag from wine distributors. Wine was okay, she supposed, but it wasn't scotch. Next time, she'd try to get a distributor of single-malt to chip in some of their smoky wares. She pulled out a bottle of shiraz and went looking for some drinking company.

Jet, meanwhile, had been taking advantage of the ship's silence, and was deeply engrossed with his bonsais. He hardly noticed when Faye came silently into the room, sitting down nearby. What brought him out of his reverie was the pop of the cork being pulled from the bottle. He jumped slightly to see Faye sitting with a bottle in her hand.

"Care to join me?" Faye said with a grin.

Jet's eyes narrowed. "What is that?"

"Chateau de Nouveau de Wagga Wagga," Faye read from the bottle's label. She laughed at Jet's expression. "It's supposed to be good shiraz. Australian heirloom grapes."

"Oh. Wine."

"Yes, wine, you infidel." Faye poured two glasses, and handed one to Jet.

"This is a water glass," remarked Jet, looking at the dark purple-red wine within.

Faye scoffed. "Well, the Bebop doesn't have a collection of stemware, and furthermore, this is how the Italians drink their wine."

"When in Rome, eh?" Both of them laughed. "Prosit," said Jet, and they clicked their glasses together, and drank. "That's not bad."

"Not at all. Those folks from Oz know their grapes," remarked Faye. Jet smiled at her, and then turned his attention back to an errant twig. He clipped it, and then took another sip of the wine. Faye tucked a leg under herself. "Tell me about your bonsai, Jet."

"Well, the bonsai is not the plant itself. Bonsai refers to the method of how to make the plant grow."

"So it's not a dwarf plant?"

"Proper ones aren't. A good bonsai artist can create a bonsai out of all kinds of plants. Once I worked a miniature rose bush into a bonsai. It was quite beautiful."

Faye topped off her glass. "Sounds like kind of a cruel thing to do a plant."

"Really, it's not any more cruel that what other horticulturists do." Jet handed back his glass, and Faye refilled it. "The hard part about doing this on the ship is that I can't really replicate outdoor conditions."

"Perhaps someday you'll be in one place long enough to have your own garden," mused Faye, holding out the refilled glass to Jet.

"Perhaps." Jet took the proffered glass, and their fingertips touched briefly. "You must be bored out of your skull, to come in here and talk to me." Faye laughed. "Five years ago, I would have thought that you had an ulterior motive."

Faye raised her eyebrows. "It's been five years? Wow. I feel like I still don't know you guys at all."

Jet chuckled. "And Spike and I have known each other for almost nine. But the only way I've really noticed the passage of time is watching Ed grow up. When I was on the force, my buddies would talk about how time flew when kids were involved. I didn't really believe them then."

Faye was quiet for a while. "So Ed's out with Spike?"

"Yeah." Jet stole a glance at Faye. She was swirling the dark wine in her glass. "Does that bother you?"

Faye's eyes flashed to Jet's. "No. Maybe. Perhaps. I don't know."

Jet laughed. "Way to be definitive."

Faye laughed along with Jet. "It's just . . . you sometimes have this idea of what your life's going to be, and then . . . it isn't. Boy, my life isn't."

"You and Spike were never going to work, you know."

Faye wrinkled her nose. "But Ed?"

"I don't understand it either. Let's have more of that wine." Faye moved her chair closer to Jet, and obliged his request. "Five years ago, I never would have put Spike anywhere, with anyone, except perhaps in a grave. But he's good to Ed, and she's good for him. And frankly, I think he's scared of her."

"Spike would never be scared of a woman."

"He's terrified of you."

"You're so full of shit, Black, that your eyes are brown." Faye tipped the last of the bottle into her glass. "Oh, oh, general, we have a dead soldier."

Jet took her glass, and poured off wine from his until the levels of wine were even. "Here, let's do this like a Lebanese New Year." He stood, and grabbed Faye's hand and pulled her into a standing position.

"It's nowhere near New Year's." But she giggled.

"For someone, somewhere, it's New Year's." He clicked his glass again to hers. "To Faye Valentine and Jet Black. Cheers and all that good shit." Faye laughed even harder, and Jet joined her. "Now drink up." Both of them drained their glasses, then clicked their glasses one more time, and threw them against the wall. Both glasses exploded into hundreds of pieces, and both Jet and Faye cheered.

The laughter began to die off, and both Faye and Jet looked at each other, lopsided grins on their faces. The smile began to melt away from Jet's face as he brought up his hand and caressed her cheek. Faye took a quick breath, and then tilted her head into his palm. Then they each took a step forward and ended in each other's arms.

First kiss, and their lips made light touches against the other's, hardly moving, too afraid to breathe.

Second kiss, and their tongues made shy forays into each other's mouths.

Third kiss, and Jet pulled Faye even tighter into his arms, lifting her off the ground, curving her against his body. She lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck, and she lifted both of her feet behind her. The kiss ended, and Faye giggled. "You sneaky devil. You made me curl my toes."

Jet looked over her shoulder at Faye's bare feet. "So I did." Then he began to carry her out of the room.

Faye, keeping the smile on her face, murmured, "Where are you taking me?"

Jet shrugged. "Away from the broken glass. I don't want you to hurt your feet."

"So gallant." Faye shifted her legs so that they were wrapped around Jet's waist.

"Not that gallant, not with where those legs are that I don't like it."

Faye tilted her head, and then laughed, "You're drunker than you think. That didn't make one damn bit of sense."

"I'm not that drunk, either." Jet kissed Faye again, bringing one arm down to support her under her buttocks.

"I know what you're up too, Jet Black."

"Do you, now, Faye Valentine."

"Yes, and it's not going to work."

"Really? I remember one time, we were exceptional in bed together."

"That was grief sex."

"That's what made it so good." Jet clamped his teeth on her exposed shoulder, and then continued carrying her towards his room.

"Aren't you concerned that you might be the second choice?" Faye nuzzled into Jet's throat.

"I'd rather be your second choice than take sloppy seconds any day." Jet kicked open his bedroom door.

"Jet, seriously." Faye pulled back to look at Jet. Her brow furrowed. "Is this really a good idea?"

"Faye, seriously." Jet grinned back at her. "What's the worst that could happen?" And he shut the door behind them.

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What's the worst that could happen, indeed?

Faye lay quietly on the gurney, waiting. Waiting for the morphine to take a better hold. Waiting for the nurse to come back. Waiting to see how much her life would change in the next 30 seconds or so.

At the moment, she concentrated on breathing in and out, as she let everything else spin out of control around her.

The doctor finally returned. Faye opened her eyes and gazed at the corona of beautiful brunette hair. There was an imperceptible smile on the woman's face. A Mona Lisa smile.

The doctor quietly uttered three little words to Faye. The first word was Faye. The second word, equally as innocuous as the first, was you're.

The third word, upon reflection, was not so little at all. In fact, it was gargantuan with the number of letters contained therein (eight in all) and with what that word implied for Faye's future from there on out.

The doctor continued talking, about the potential but very small risks of the needed testing but how they would do everything to protect both her and the . . .

Faye interrupted. "Is there any way I could talk to a priest?"

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Wagga Wagga is in Southern New South Wales, Australia. Australia does in fact produce quite a few lovely wines. However, as I suspect that in the CB universe, Australia doesn't exactly exist anymore, hence the use of "heirloom grapes."

Thank you for reading, and for all your reviews!