It all happened in slow motion, it felt like one of those tacky, over-used effects in the movies. Except this wasn't fake, it was one hundred percent real.

One minute she was standing with her gun pointing at the bounty, yelling her lungs out; and the next she was on the cold pavement, blood dribbling out through a hole in her abdomen. The next few moments were a blur as Spike carried her to the Swordfish, arranging her none too comfortably on his lap. She could hear him talking to her but it sounded so far away, even though at one point he was shouting very loudly, something along the lines of "Don't you fucking die, you bitch!" If she hadn't been half conscious she would have rather pissed, but the thought was appreciated.

"What the hell happened?" she heard Jet asking, apparently they'd arrived on the Bebop.

"Fuck- she- I tried…"

"We have to get the bullet out," Jet said hurriedly, Yeah well, no shit Sherlock.

She could hear him scrambling around, digging through piles of shit to get to the medical kit while Spike sat on the floor next to the couch, mumbling things she couldn't quite understand. An eternity seemed to pass until Jet returned. Faye smelled the pungent odor of disinfectant as he opened the bottled, a second later she felt the smooth material of medical gauze on her skin and she grit her teeth; that shit stung like a motherfucker.

"Hold her down," Jet ordered Spike. Next thing she knew Spike was straddling her thighs, pressing his weight against her slender frame, calloused hands holding her wrists down.

"Ok, One. Two…" Jet didn't even finish counting, he dug the little pincers on her tender flesh, digging for the bullet, and here she thought the disinfectant had hurt.

She tried to move, tried to get away from Jet's rough fingers but Spike held her down steadily, her eyes were wide open and she could see the deep red stain that tainted her pale skin, it was like a scene from a horror movie, "Fuck! Please, make it stop" she shrieked.

"You're only making it harder on yourself," Jet yelled back.

"Oh god," she sighed, and passed out for the second time that night.

Hours later she woke to the smell of ramen noodles and vegetables, she was starving. Slowly she opened her eyes, wondering where the hell she was. The ceiling light hurt her eyes so she turned away, facing a rather somber looking Spike, and he sat on the yellow seat next to the coffee table.

"Oh hey," she tried to smile, but the pain in her side was being a complete bitch.

He stayed silent, the serious expression on his face never leaving. He stood from the seat and languidly walked to where she lay on the couch, he bent low so he was at face level with her and without a single warning his right hand shot out, smacking her across the cheek, her eyes widened in shock.

"What the fu-"

"Don't you ever fucking scare me like that again," he said sternly, scolding her like he would a small child.

She opened and closed her mouth a few times before the words finally left her mouth, "I-I'm sorry."

"Good," Spike nodded, he kneeled beside her and fiercely pressed his lips against hers, his hand cradling her reddened cheek. She was breathless as he pulled back, a silly grin on his face.

And if every slap ended with a kiss, then she'd absolutely have to get shot more often.