Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Space Madness - Find Faye ❯ Space Madness - Find Faye ( One-Shot )

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop, or any of it characters. *sigh*

Space Madness

My eyes have never felt more welcoming for the brief relief that rubbing a calloused hand across them now offers. In this spatial dungeon, bathed in nothing but the glow of the computer screen, any relief is fleeting and will leave me just as quickly as it touches, but this does not mean I will freely relinquish what little it offers. This is not what I had planned on. I tried to disinterest myself from the very beginning, but damn it if things had to take such an unexpected turn.

I remember that day with the clarity of the vodka I now swirl around the large tumbler in my good hand - who could not? That day legends formed, stars fell, the whole solar system came to a stop, well, at least that is how it felt. I thought over the numerous years that I have been victim to endure, that there would be nothing left for this old space cowboy to comprehend. Not so… it appears that the wizened old man of the Bebop still has one vital lesson to learn.

What is there left when all hope is gone? When the only thing you lived for now seems as empty as the vacuum you float in? What do you do when you've hit the bottom of the barrel, smashed through its wooden base and started clawing at the concrete cellar floor? Well it is a question that cannot be described on the normal plane of 'what if?' of that much I can be certain. It is the tale of two members of that crew, which however reluctantly was formed, seemed to tame most of the abstract and obscure personalities in terra-formed space.

If you want I can easily define how I haven't coped with Spike's death. Mine is simple. Since that day my obsessions have dominated me even more than they did before. I can sigh now, relaxed in the safe knowledge that my beloved Bonsai are flourishing once again, but it is only because my obsession has moved to a different outlet that they live so healthily, for a long time it was quite the opposite. My determination to have something, anything to do in the proceeding months after his death sculpted the poor plants into my therapy. Never had they failed me before.

For days at a time I would sit in that metal hold, considering them, shaping them in my mind, clipping them watering, nurturing them. I couldn't leave. What if something happened? How could I hold myself to account if for some reason I left the hose running or the Bebop lurched as it was accustomed to do, and they should be damaged in any way? In my dementia I couldn't see that my constant attention, was worse than any fall they could suffer. To me they were prize winning Bonsai. I would take on the known universe for them, they were my legacy, my pride, my essence.

I did not comprehend that this was so dauntingly near the truth. They were taking on my essence, but instead of the shining example of health and sculpted elegance they should reflect, they were lacking the inner strength to flourish just… just as I was. My very soul was entwined in them, eating away as it struggled for anything to cling onto. Yes it's true, I wasn't just teetering on the edge of insanity - I had slipped on its tiles and after falling face first under its spell, was starting to become a master of its blissful depths.

In an instant things had changed, and just like Archimedes it came to me in the bath. It had been the stench that had finally pried me away from the Bonsai. I was sure it was detrimental to their growth and so I had allotted myself tightly scheduled wash times. It wasn't so much "eureka!" more an apoplectic distaste of my surroundings. I still refused to realize my mistakes, but the object shifted. The Bonsai were forgotten, easily put aside as the new quest firmly shook my madness by the hand. My usual torn jacket was forsaken. I did not want to spoil it more than it already was. I stuffed my bulking body into the only clean pair of thermal long-john's I could find and donned my apron, as though wearing pink were the most natural and logical decision that could have ever been made.

So I entered phase two of obsessive compulsion. I cleaned. Not just the living quarters, but the entire ship. Weeks I spent with polish, disinfectant, and mop. I couldn't be satisfied until every nook and cranny of the Bebop was more than spotless. I still have a few remaining lesions adorning my good hand from where I had scrubbed the metal bulkheads until it was red raw. Looking back now it was a more refined form of madness than the first. I can picture myself as the lonely housewife at a loss as to what to do after having spent a lifetime slaving for her child, and is now left in her far too empty home trying to work out what part of this life she should fit into.

I can even now feel its intoxicating numbness - the weight of heavy limbs that it inspires. Even during what small rest I salvaged it would be there eating at my mind. I would have nightmares of tracing my way eerily through endless corridors, filled with grime and rusting metal, and when I went to find cleaning products they were all gone. I would sink back down as the grunge and muck enclosed me and wake to the chill of sweat pouring down my face, my hands clawing and ripping at the bedclothes, not finding sufficient purchase for relieving their tension.

I didn't know or want to find my way out of these phases because I was unsure of what was left for me if I left them. The whole crew had disbanded, but there were times when I remembered them. One more than the others and this is where my obsession now rests.

At first it was a passing curiousness as to what had become of her. I wondered how she was coping on her own again. I can still remember her pain. I guess I must be slow in these areas. I never realized quite how much she cared for Spike. I had always wondered why she had stayed with us. At the time I had thought it was merely to sponge, and I still hold firm to the belief that this had a defining affect on her, but now I know the truth of it. She loved Spike. I hadn't realized it was a compulsion to her character.

There were so many of her supposed affections, lavished on those fools that were just as pretty, silly and as shallow as herself and I didn't care for her or what swam around that head of hers. Everyone knew the flirt that existed inside the introspection of her mind, and for some reason I had learned to hate it. Her whole character annoyed me in its selfishness. At least that's what I fully believed at the time. In retrospect I must call it as it really stood - a firm and violent jealousy of its target, because I never held that position. Oh yeah she tried, but I saw through her from the start and she knew that. I know her, but can hardly bring myself to speak her name.

Faye Valentine.

There I said it, because she is where my obsession has now settled, more so than the cleaning or pruning ever did. I still can't see through the oppressive weight of my thoughts, I still don't know if I rule my madness properly, because it feels as though it's tearing me apart. I'm still unsure of what I'm feeling - if it is real or just another twist in my slowly deteriorating mind. Is it the object or the hunt for it that intrigues me and forces me to locate her? Sometimes I reason that it is only the occupation my body craves for that is instigating my search, but at night when I am alone and looking blankly out of the window at the stars that surround me I see her face, clouded and drowned as it was the day that I found brief solace in her presence.

I heard the gunshots from the corridor as I sat in the living room losing myself in the swirl of cigarette smoke. It curled up around my vision as the prophecy I had learned played itself out. What would stopping Spike accomplish? He was just as at a loss for reason over Julia as I am now over my whole existence. There was silence for the longest of time, but slowly I heard that noise. It echoed around the whole ship, blanketing out even more than my own thoughts. At first it was little more than a shaky, heavy breathing, but soon it stopped and was replaced with sobs. Now we have our differences, ok we have a lot of differences, and our tempers are just as violent and volatile as each others, stopping us short of friendship for so long, but I couldn't miss the raw emotion expressed through her hysteria.

The cries echoed through the ship, followed by the thump of flesh meeting metal as she pounded her fists relentlessly on the corridor walls. I think this was the first moment that I refused to put 'shallow' on any of her emotions. Whether or not it was the first time she had experienced such utter soul consuming feeling is a matter of debate, but my estimation of her jumped to new levels under the anguish that she suffered that day.

Unable to hold back I stood and walked the few steps to look at her. She lay slumped on the floor, her long legs splayed, her hair dishevelled and hanging over her face at it was lowered in her palms. Moisture flowed unchecked through her long fingers as her knuckles bled. Some hint of concern for her well being clenched in an unfathomable portion of my body as I gazed down on the broken woman at my feet.

I didn't, however, make any attempt to comfort her. I wouldn't allow myself. Not because I didn't want to, but because I was feeling just as shitty as she was, and didn't want to become consumed in the emotion. I would keep the feeling bottled up, wouldn't let it surface, and made a pact from that first moment to hide it. So I just stayed there, trying to calm the concern I felt pouring through me, watching her as I leaned dejectedly against the doorframe.

It was several hours later that she finally acknowledged me. Her tears had long since been cried dry, and for the resulting time she had been just staring down at her legs, lost in some fantasy world of her own, uncomprehending of anything else around her. Her head shifted the smallest of fractions and one mascara run eye fixed firmly on me, the eyebrow above it drawn angrily low, sharpening its angles, "What the fuck are you staring at?" she accused, the venom the words portended, lost under an eerie monotone.

"Nothing of any importance." I replied, not knowing how else to talk to her. Not liking her looking at me so weirdly, anymore than I had liked her dejection. I finally moved away, ready to tend to my Bonsai, rather than face the reality I could be presented with. I walked slowly passed her, not wanting to suffer any more inactivity, but my feet were stayed with one word.

"Jet?"

It was asked so feebly and without even the slightest indication of double motive.

"What?" I asked in irritation.

"He's not coming back is he?"

I closed my eyes and swallowed the lump that had miraculously formed there, "No." I replied, trying to shake the emotion from my voice and failing miserably, "He has nothing to live for any more. Even if he defeats Vicious I don't think we will ever see him again. Not now Julia is gone."

"I shouldn't have told him. I didn't want to, but… I… Something in me couldn't keep it from him. Dammit! Why couldn't I lie to him?"

She patted herself down and pulled out a pack of crushed cigarettes, and after extracting one of the mangled sticks from the packaging, she put it to her lips, seemingly unaware of its unsmokable state.

I remained silent. What did she want me to say? So I watched her as before until she got her lighter and tried to take a long relaxing drag. Finally her mind caught up and sneering in anger at not even being able to have a good smoke to relieve her troubles, she stood and threw it away. Stamping her foot in frustration and spinning on the spot as though her body needed to free the aggravation in movement, no matter how insignificant it might be.

"Damn that man Jet!" she screamed at me, "Damn him! Why does he make me like this? I feel… for fucks sake he makes me care! I don't want to care, but…"

The tears sprung to her lashes again and she fell into my chest wrapping her arms around my neck, "You love him?" I questioned.

She looked up to me in confusion, and I smiled down on her, never had she looked so truly beautiful, "Yes." She replied in little more than a whisper and buried her head back into my chest.

Under some unknown spell I let my arms trail around her waist and pulled her tightly to me. There was a moment of relaxation for both of us, and her hands left the comfort of each other and began trailing mini circles down my neck. I looked down at her in utter confusion, but couldn't ignore how good her touch felt as it crept down onto my shoulder, kneading away the tension.

"Faye?" I questioned in bewilderment.

"I need touch Jet. I don't care how I get it. I need to feel someone close to me… some form of release… please!" she whispered, into my chest slowly raising her head, her eyes pleading her case for her.

God help me for not pushing her away there and then, but her hands were casting a spell on me that would have confounded men of more control than myself, as she pulled at my neck and brought her lips to mine. I would be lying if I told you I had not wondered what it would be like to have their fullness pushed up against mine before that day, so I will just let you see me in all my guilt. I enjoyed it! I still can't believe that she managed to wile her wickedness on me.

I knew what she was doing I had seen her do it to other men. Using her body as intoxication to get what she wanted. That was the trouble - she was too skilled at it. So she wanted to cloud Spike out of her mind, how would she do it other than to fill her senses with something… or someone else? It was her way of getting back at him. Dammit! She was using me and I was enjoying it as her hand ran across the broad line of my chest. Damn her! I wanted to see through the lust she created as I felt those intriguing breasts of hers squeeze so tightly up to me.

In this state of illusion I turned and pinned her against the walls, "Don't do this Faye!" I threatened, even as I ground my hips against her, my emotions having the roller coaster ride of their lives.

"You don't feel it too Jet?" She purred into my ear, "The sadness. It consumes us both, let us give into it. What does it matter anymore?"

"It matters because you are playing with me. You use people Faye and I will not be used."

"Then use me," she shouted, "When was the last time you were with a woman Jet? How often have you fantasized about my body? I know men. I know how they work. Fuck me Jet… use me… hate me… I don't care. I just want the touch."

More tears spilled from her eyes and this time I did the unthinkable. My hand surrendered from the comfort of the wall and brushed them gently away from her cheeks. I wanted to listen to her words. I could identify with them. She spoke the truth, we both needed a release to extract our minds from the painful reality and submerge ourselves in a land of make-believe.

That was my last chance to turn back. I could have done so easily. The words, "Fuck you Faye, go take your frustrations out on your vibrator!" were on the tip of my tongue ready to be spoken, but she chose that precise minute to rub the length of my erection through my overall, and somehow they were silenced. I cannot think back on that night without a mixture of emotions… the one that I want to feel, the disgust that I long to associate with it, still eludes me. I want to hate myself and her for ending up in each others arms, but I cannot do either. She was right. We both needed it, and so without thinking about anything else we found comfort in each other. It wasn't anything stable though, no matter how many times we tried to purge the reality from each other's bodies that feeling of emptiness would still return afterwards. I think the first week after confirmation of his death was announced, we both realised this.

Mutual consent separated us. Neither of us could look each other in the eye during the day and the act of bounty hunting had been completely forgotten. I decided that it was about time that I got back into it. The lack of sustenance and money to buy more, forced me to contact my old buddies on Ganymede. This one bounty would prove to be my nest egg for a while, and was surprisingly easy to bring in. I guess fate must have decided that I needed a break. There was no loss of the millions I got for him. No bungling sentimentality or clumsiness that diminished its value, and more especially no one to share it with.

When I returned Faye had gone. I had expected nothing less. I knew she was feeling as stifled as I was. I couldn't even place who I was anymore, things had become so twisted in so short a space of time. She had discovered who she was, but still had nothing to run to. I can't imagine how daunting that must have felt. Realizing your true self, learning to trust and love, and then to have both aspects torn from her grasp, before they had properly made contact. She needed to work things out in her own way and so I made no attempt then to find her. I just assumed that it was another phase in my life left on the wind. Nothing profiting from it - that is until now, when I can't even close my eyes without thinking of her. Why the fuck can't I let it go?

So here I am now, tracking her just as though she were expensive bounty. To be honest it's proving a lot harder than I thought. I reasoned that my search wouldn't last long, all I needed was to follow the debts and Faye Valentine would appear, but I reasoned wrong. I had forgotten how long she has been avoiding these debts. How skilled she is at hiding from them. It is as if I am chasing a ghost.

My more recent lines of enquiry though have been more successful. I am at the moment orbiting Mars. What better place to lose yourself in? I had at first thought to look on Earth but even she isn't mad enough to go there. I shudder at the company she has been keeping. It takes a lot to unnerve me, but the list of conquests she has made makes me sick to the stomach. The poor foolish girl never did know how to say no, or keep out of trouble, therefore I shouldn't be surprised.

The ISSP also proved fruitful. They had had several dealings with her within that time. There were a couple of minor offences, such as possession of controlled substances and affray, but I learned that she had also spent a few months in prison, thanks to a burned out tavern on the west side. It was reckless and stupid behaviour even for her. No scratch that - especially for her. She was always so careful. What the hell is happening to her?

The trail went cold a few days ago, only this morning did I get a new lead. Downing the last of the vodka I have mulled over for far too long, I relinquish the non-comfort of the Bebop and venture onto the planet's surface.

Hours pass, and I now stroll the back streets and intertwining alleys of one of the most degraded and slummed districts this planet has to offer. The smell that invades my nostrils is making me feel nauseous and light-headed. Two sets of buildings tower either side of me as I navigate the sloped gutter between them. I look up to see the rusted and broken balconies, dotted with linen that disappear into thick red clouds of smog, and then down to the screwed up piece of paper in my hand. According to the hastily written directions I am almost there. I ball the paper up and shove in angrily in my pocket as I stalk into a door that is spattered intermittently with grime and blood.

The small lobby that now presents itself to me is precisely what I expected from the outside - grotty and smelly. An old man sits at the reception desk smoking a pipe and laughing at some comedy show that blears from the small television to his right. I walk over to him, "Excuse me."

He doesn't answer. "Excuse me!" I try again, far more forcibly.

Still he doesn't regard me, "I said!" my anger rising, "E…" I don't get to finish. From under the desk he grabs a handgun, aims it at me, and fires.

I manage to barrel out of the way, the bullet grazing the side of my face, "Dammit!" I growl, "I should have known that anything to do with that girl was never going to be easy!"

I now rest behind a rusted and dilapidated drinks machine, my breathing heavy as I can feel the blood running down my cheek. To my surprise though the TV still sounds harmlessly over the silence and is broken by the man's laughter, just as before. Chancing to look out I see he is engrossed back in the show and paying me absolutely no attention. Carefully I leave my safe haven. He doesn't even so much as flinch and I walk unencumbered to the stairwell. "Crazy son a bitch" I mutter under my breath. "And I thought I was going mad."

My breathing is heavy for a different reason now. Trust the apartment to be on the top floor! Fourteen fucking flights of stairs! I extract the piece of paper just to check I'm at the right door before knocking.

Nothing.

I knock a little harder.

"Fuck off!" screams a familiar voice, "No ones here, and if you try to come in Aneglo I swear I'll fuck you up even worse than last time!"

I can't stifle the laugh that threatens and it tears up my throat, "How precisely did you fuck him up before?" I yell back.

There is silence for a few minutes, but then I hear an assortment of locks and chains being rustled behind the door. It opens a very fraction, and her face, looks curiously out. I notice that it is even more drawn and wasted than usual. Dark circles encompass her eyes and she has a bruise almost covering her entire left cheek.

"Jet?" she questions in astonishment.

I'm about to reply, when the last chain is relinquished and the door I was resting on opens. I fall to the gauzy carpet and in an instant she has a heeled foot on my chest the barrel of a 9mm pushed into my forehead. "What the fuck are you doing here?" she spits.

"Its nice to see you too!"

"Don't mess with me Jet Black. Its not everyday a bounty hunter shows up on your doorstep."

"Excuse me… but you're one as well."

"Was," she snarls, "I imagine you've done your research though. You know that I've gone full circle. What good am I as a bounty hunter when I have one on my own head?"

"Don't flatter yourself Faye Valentine. You know the bounty on your head isn't even worth bothering about. Now if it was ten times that sum I might consider wasting some of my time on it. Oh and whilst we're on the subject. It was a pretty stupid thing to do."

"Oh quit the lecture granddad, its one less debt to worry about." She looks at me quizzically and removes the gun from my face, "So why are you here then?"

I return the look, unsure what to say, "I was worried about you," sounds so pathetic right now, but what other reason can I give her?

"Well...?" She taps her foot impatiently. "I'm waiting. Spill it!"

"How did you get that bruise?"

"That's none of your business, and quit changing the subject."

I hang my shoulders in defeat, "I have no fucking clue why I came." I reply, " There are you happy, it's just another moment of dementia to chalk up." I turn to the door, "Have a nice life Faye Valentine."

I make it back to the stairs before her body scoots around the door and she puts her arms around me, "I missed you too." She says so sincerely that I repay the affectionate embrace.

She leads me back into her apartment and sits me down on the couch as she lights a cigarette and pours us both a drink. I follow her example and take a large refreshing drag on my own ciggy. "How are things on the Bebop?" she asks.

"Quiet." I reply.

"So you haven't found a new partner yet?"

"No." I reply firmly.

"You're still bounty hunting though?"

"Yes and no." I state honestly, "Only when I have to. I've had some thoughts of going back to the ISSP, they have offered."

"Yeah right!" she laughs, "Like you could ever go back to that bureaucratic bullshit. You'd be bored shitless by the end of a week."

"True." I reply, "How about you? What are you doing now?"

She waves a nonchalant hand, "Buying, selling."

"Dealing?"

She nods in silent confirmation, bowing her head.

"How long have you been doing that shit?" I ask, tracing the needle marks on her elegant arms.

"Ever since I left." She admits, "It was the only release I could get. It numbs the pain - albeit briefly."

I down the remainder of my drink and grab her by the wrists, "Come back to the Bebop!" I demand, "I'll help you get off it. We'll clean you up and I have a contact that can make your bounty disappear. We can start afresh. You can be my new partner, we'll work together."

Her eyes knit together as her brain processes what I have just said. There is a look of hope that springs to them, and I smile. Unfortunately the life in them disappears just as soon as it enters. She takes a step back, shakes her head and tears fall down her cheeks.

"It sounds great Jet, but I can't…" Her body slumps to the floor. "I can't do it. Everything there will remind me of him. I'm not strong enough. I can't get him out of my head no matter where I am, but to be constantly in a place that once promised so much! I…I…"

She breaks down at my feet, lost in her own self-pity.

"I'm sorry." She mumbles.

I can't describe how I feel right now. I don't know what I expected coming here. I didn't even think about offering her such things before I came.

"Don't be sorry. I understand."

"For what its worth," she says through her sobs, "I miss you."

I nod, "As whacked out as it sounds, I miss you too Faye. Who would ever have thought it? Fucking women!"

The faintest of smiles contorts her face, "Thanks." She grumbles sarcastically.

"Hmph!" I walking to the door once again, "Take care of yourself."

My hand turns the handle, but its stopped by hers. "Don't be a stranger Jet," she entreats.

"I can still clear the bounty if you want me to."

She smiles, "Thank you." Relief washes over her features.

I allow one last look at her over my shoulder and leave without another word.

I cannot describe to you the multitude of thoughts that cram my mind as I walk back to the Bebop. The understanding between us seems real and I sigh under the burden it lifts from my shoulders. Perhaps she was the reason for my madness, because now I can feel its strange spell leaving my body.

The metal hulk of my beloved and cursed ship now towers in front of me and I enter strangely relieved to be back. Who knows what the future holds? For the first time in months I can look forward rather than back. I am Jet Black ex-ISSP officer, turned bounty hunter. The losses I endure along the way embolden me - make me stronger. Reason, ambition and pride restored - I will go on.

The End

…………………………. .

A/N - This is my first attempt at a Cowboy Bebop fanfiction. I hope you liked it. Please let me know what you think.

*huggles*

Ember