Faye was sat across from a ghost. Or at least someone who wanted to be one. She sighed, her eyes passing over his broken body. This was the worst she had had ever seen him- shot, stabbed, bruised, and practically unsalvageable. Gauze and covered most of his torso and one of his eyes. Both his legs were in splints. He was asleep.
Faye put her head in her hands, something that had become second nature to her in the month or so after the Red Dragon...event. She was angry, so angry, that he was so stupid, so hypocritical, so stubborn. He didn't even look back when she shot at the ceiling!
She shook her head a little, still refusing to look up at who was lying on the couch across from her.
How many Woolongs were on the head of that dead man with silver hair? Not that she ended up with any of it. That day, she took in the whole scene, and stood beside her ship with a lump in her throat. Her hands trembled. Then she ran. Through the broken glass, through the blood. Up the stairs where she picked him up by sheer adrenaline, fireman style, and carries him into her small ship and directly to the hospital. She didn't care how much it cost. She didn't care how he groaned in agony from the moment she picked him up. Nothing else mattered. She had saved him. Whether he liked it or not.
Finally, Faye sat up and leaned back in the dingy yellow chair. He was still asleep, chest rising and falling heavily, and a slight wheeze escaping his mouth. For her part, Faye was cold and pulled her red jacket over her shoulders. She could hear the faint snipping sound of Jet in his bonsai room, and the whir of the Bebop's engine as it cruised towards Europa. But it was a somber sort of quiet. The kind of quiet that alienates.
When she weaseled her way onto the Bebop, Faye was just looking for escape and a quick buck. Somehow it turned into more. The adventure, the rush of the hunt, the cash when they had it, felt so right. But it was always feast or famine, and more famine than not. She had found her way to a place in the group. The shared cigarettes meant something. The snark and banter meant something. When she ran from them, miraculously, someone ran after her. That was the most profound point in the journey. She had found out about herself, more than she ever realized she knew. It was a hollow victory, but her past was finally hers.
She had already made a choice when she stayed with the Bebop. She sniffed, trying to keep composure. It was probably the best decision she had made yet- which spoke volumes to her previous decisions. But she chose the Bebop, and she will keep choosing the Bebop. Faye knows where her future is, and now she'll fight like hell to keep it.
Faye gazed ahead of her. For a second she wished Ein was here, if only to rest on her foot or annoy Spike. It was just a familiar feeling she desired, because since Spike left everything felt out of place. She wanted a cigarette, so they could share a light again. Instead she fished out her own pack and lighter, and took a long drag by herself. Both of them had shot headfirst into danger. Both of them are blindingly stubborn and self-destructive. And though she only realized this in the past month, they both buried their sentimental urges. Something about that drew her to him, even though on the surface she begrudgingly accepted his presence.
Faye sighed, shifting in her seat.
"Maybe I could've loved you in any life but ours."
Spike rustled in his sleep, but Faye stood up and hurried away before she knew if he had heard her.
She hoped he hadn't.