Believe

I need you to believe in me
'til there's nothing left of us
oh I need you to believe in me

and I'm not running anymore
I'll stand to face it all
I'll fight for every breath
until there's nothing left of us

and oh
I need you to believe

“So, what happened back there?” Faye asked as she followed Spike through the doorway that led to the common room.

They were just returned from a stake-out on Callisto. The bounty was a 10,000-woolong bounty head named Andalf Gandaamen, a smooth-talking small-time criminal wanted for embezzlement of funds from a biotech company. She and Spike had chased him all the way to the frigid crater town of Jumo, where there was nothing to be found except for broken glass and broken lives crushed together in a mucky mess, making them all edgy and irritable. Just before cornering Gandaamen in an abandoned warehouse on the rough outskirts of the docking region, he’d said something to Spike that only the two of them could hear. Whatever was said, it ticked Spike off something good, and it took the strength of both Jet and herself to calm Spike down so that Gandaamen stayed alive long enough for them to collect on the bounty on his head. Afterwards, back on the Bebop, she had asked him about what had happened, but he adamantly refused to talk about it.

“Not now, Faye,” he grumbled in that deep voice of his. His trademark aloofness was surprisingly absent, though she knew that he was deliberately trying to put her off.

“Oh, keep your shirt on”, she retorted, glaring daggers into his back as he shuffled over to the worn yellow couch.

He ignored her and sank down into the cushions and closed his eyes as if preparing for a long nap. After all of the time they’d spent together on this ship, she knew that he was trying to piss her off by ignoring her.

She sat on the steps and pulled a nail file from her pocket. Bounty hunting was hell on her nails and she liked her hands to look good. As she buffed, she looked over at the couch, watching him from under her lashes as he lay with his hands clasped behind his head. He wasn’t sleeping, that she knew.

Spike had his dark side, brooding and uncommunicative, when he even shut Jet out, choosing to lie motionless on the couch, staring up at the ceiling fan as if the answer to life would be found somewhere in those revolving blades. Faye hated it when he was like this, but, she reasoned, life inside a syndicate must have made him like that, living on the front line where showing any emotion or divulging any personal information could cost you your life, or even worse, loss of respect of the others. Since she had known him, he’d never been that much of a talker, and he never told her anything about himself. What little that she did know, she had gleaned from the situations that they had found themselves in during the course of their lives on the Bebop.

Spike didn’t like showing weakness of any kind. Even though he no longer lived the syndicate life, remnants still lived within him, leaving him shell shocked and emotionally damaged. He rarely allowed anyone to get a glimpse of what he held inside. She understood because she could be like that sometimes as well.

She turned her attention back to her nails, stealing a glance every now and then at his face. When his silence became unbearable, she got up and stomped over to the couch, standing over him. He wasn’t in the syndicate any more, dammit, and his silence was making her angry.

“I want to know right now, what happened to you back there?” she pressed as she waited for him to answer her. When no answer was forthcoming, she leaned forward and sideswiped his head with the flat of her hand, then leaned back on her heels and waited, her hands on her hips.

Spike’s eyes sprung open and he stared up at her in disbelief, a spark of suppressed amusement flaring up in his natural eye. His thin lips curled into a half grin.

“Well?” She demanded tersely. “Spit it out already.”

Spike started to speak, but seemed to think better of it. “Faye, didn’t your mother tell you that patience is a virtue?”

“Idiot,” Faye scoffed. “You know I don’t remember anything from my other life.”

He watched her for a moment. “Yeah,” he said softly, regret battling for its position to replace the aloof expression on his face. He reached up and grabbed her hand, pulling her down to sit next to him.

She glared at him, insult ready to fly from her mouth.

“Give me a break and chill, Faye,” he said, meeting her gaze. He released her arm and leaned back, not breaking eye contact.

Disconcerted, she broke the stare as the retort died on her lips. He obviously was not going to tell her anything, so she chose to ignore him instead. I wonder, she mused as she lost herself in a sudden memory. What would I have been like if I had never gotten on that shuttle?

Instead, here she was, some fifty odd years beyond her time, sitting next to a tight-lipped bounty hunter like Spike, who rarely allowed anyone to get a glimpse of what he held inside. She understood because she was like that as well.

She thought back to the day he had left, when she had tried telling him about her returning memories, those fleeting remembrances coming back in incomplete drifts and wisps and the feeling of belonging. Since he came back, she noticed that the boys more often “forgot” to remind her that she was not a part of the crew, and treated her like one of them.

“Stop staring”, Spike mumbled, eyes closed.

“How do you know I'm looking at you?” she snarled, her cheeks reddening. She hadn’t even realized that she had been watching him and she wondered how his senses were so acute even when he looked like he was sleeping.

“You're not a very quiet watcher, Faye,” he retorted, cracking open an eye to peer at her. “I can hear you looking from way over here.” He closed his eyes again. “Me on the other hand,” he continued as he stretched his long legs forward to plop them on the table before him. “I was born to hear all and see all.”

“Yeah right,” she said sarcastically. “As much as you sleep.”

“Don't hate me because I'm better at it than you,” he told her. “Now leave me in peace.”

Faye looked around for something to throw at him. Spying his cigarettes on the table, she grinned. She'd found something better, namely, his nearly full pack that she'd smoke up instead. She cunningly reached over to snag the pack, and jumped when, out of nowhere, his hand slapped down on top of hers.

“No, you don't,” he drawled lazily, sliding the pack out from under her hand.

She glared at him, miffed at not being quicker than him, since she didn't have any more of her own.

“Aww, come on Spike, have a heart and spare me a few,” she whined, trying to wheedle her way into his cold heart.

“Get your own.”

That was when the sweet sense of belonging hit home.

Sleep Tight

Just let go
Run
They are whispering
Never surrender.
Never give in
In flashes of lightning
You will shine
Do as you want
Do what you want

---

Faye stirred faintly as the dream floated just beneath the surface of consciousness. She was on an island awash in verdant green and turquoise, a steamy breeze washing in from the sea. She lay outstretched on a lounger in the suffocating heat, drenched from the neck down in the melon suntan oil that she had picked up that morning, with her eyes closed and a contented smile on her face. As she breathed in the salty aroma of sea air she could detect the faint smells of fish cooking from somewhere on the island.

Faye’s fingers curled slightly as she squirmed into a more comfortable position, and her dream faded slowly into present reality, in her room aboard the Bebop. As she became aware of a warm presence at her back, she groaned. Damn that Ein! How did he get in here? She wriggled backwards to nudge the mutt away.

“Get your ass out of my bed Ein!” she complained as she pushed harder. To her surprise, she did not hear a squeak but a deep grunt.

“What the-” she shot up to peer behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

Definitely not Ein – too long, too large, and Ein certainly hadn’t sprouted messy green fur overnight. Spike was curled on his side facing her, his head sunk into the feather pillow – her feather pillow.

Faye nudged him. He grunted but didn’t move. She elbowed him in the chest. “Spike, wake up!”

He cracked open one eye and squinted at her, his mouth turned down into a pout. “Quit yapping, I’m trying to sleep.” He turned over and slammed the pillow over his head.

She stared at his back, her hand itching to move. “Spike, what are you doing in here?” she asked, suspicion bordering on disgust in her voice

“Looks to me like I’m tryin’ to sleep,” he mumbled from beneath the pillow.

“You can’t sleep in here. You have your own room.” She leaned over and pushed him towards the edge of the narrow bed. Gods, he was heavy.

Spike gripped the edge of the bed to keep from falling out as the pillow fell to the floor. “So you’re kicking a tired saved-your-ass bounty hunter who needs his sleep out of a warm, comfortable snooze-”

“Yes.” Faye responded through clenched teeth. Already the tension was setting in, washing away all the benefits that her peaceful dream had brought her. And it was entirely his fault.

“Aww, Faye, be a pal,” Spike shifted slowly, turning to squint up at her.

“Why are you here?” she asked harshly, eyes burning into his.

He stared back, refusing to break eye contact. “Don’t you remember?” he asked, smiling that insufferable smile that she despised.

Her glare faltered for just a second. Then in a flash she grabbed her pillow, mashing it into his face.

His survival instincts obviously kicked into gear because just as swiftly he had sprung up and grabbed her shoulders, slamming her against the bed.

“What are you doing, Faye?” he demanded. “Are you trying to kill me?” His eyes smoldered as he stared down at her.

She tensed and bent her leg to knee him where it would cause damage, but he stopped her, pinning her in place as he grabbed her arms. She struggled to free herself, but his angry grip was tight. Knowing that she could not best him on even on an ordinary day, much less when he was this angry, she let her body go limp and impassively gazed back at him, knowing how much he hated when she looked at him like that.

“I thought I’d help you achieve your desire to die,” she said innocently.

Spike scowled and released her, falling back against the bed. “Faye, go away. Leave me alone.”

“This is my room. You leave,” she said, watching him.

He stared up at her with hooded eyes. She tried not to squirm under his gaze, unable to read his mood, although she had a pretty good idea that he was pissed.

“Would you get out so that I can get dressed?” she asked vehemently, attempting to cover up his discomfort.

“Alright.” He sat up abruptly, swinging his legs to the floor. “Be a bitch.” He stalked to the door and slammed on the panel, not sparing her a second glance.

Faye watched his retreating figure, feeling a sense of defeat as she watched him walk away. It reminded her of another time he’d left, when she knew he wasn’t coming back. She wanted to be able to talk to him freely and honestly, but all she felt when he was near her, was vulnerable and unsure.

***

Spike stormed through the hallway and descended the stairs towards the couch. He grabbed the box of cigarettes from the table and sank down. y. He lit up and took a deep drag, exhaling smoke and some of his tension from dealing with Faye. His relief at finding her the evening before was tempered with a strange mix of anxiety and anger at her. Frustrated, he inhaled again. He wanted her to know that he was glad she was back, but any words that he thought to say felt awkward, and that angered him because he prided himself on his self-assured demeanor in all situations. Faye made him uncertain and he couldn’t figure out why. Thinking about her produced an uncomfortable feeling that rose up from the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to acknowledge it, but deep down, he knew what it was.

He was so lost in thought that he didn’t notice that Faye had come into the room. She stood at the top of the stairs, watching him silently. His eyes locked onto hers. He swallowed, the edginess returning as they stared at each other. Finally, she spoke.

“So, Spike …” she glared at him.

“So, Faye.” He glared back.

She sighed, coming down the stairs to join him on the couch.

“Got another one of those?” She refused to look at him, her eyes on the ceiling as she held out her hand and waited.

Spike stared at her momentarily, then he shot her an unguarded, spontaneous grin as he placed a cigarette in her hand.

Come Down in Time

Memories 

In the quiet silent seconds
I turned off the light switch
And I came down to meet you
in the half light the moon left

While a cluster of night jars
sang some songs out of tune
A mantle of bright light
shone down from a room

Come down in time I still hear her say
So clear in my ear like it was today
Come down in time was the message she gave
Come down in time and I'll meet you half way

Well I don't know if I should have heard her as yet
But a true love like hers is a hard love to get
And I've walked most all the way and I ain't heard her call
And I'm getting to thinking if she's coming at all

Come down in time I still hear her say
So clear in my ear like it was today
Come down in time was the message she gave
Come down in time and I'll meet you half way

There are women and women and some hold you tight
While some leave you counting the stars in the night

Music by Elton John and lyrics by Bernie Taupin

---

Spike Spiegel leaned over the railing on the hangar of the Bebop, cigarette burning orange as he inhaled the smoke deep into his lungs. He stared up at the stars that flickered in the Mars sky. His mind wandered to another starlit night that felt so long ago.

He waited for her as he watched the moon cast shadows over the gravestones. She’d left him a message to meet her there, that she needed to see him. Both of them knew that if Vicious got wind of it, there’d be hell to pay.

“Spike.”

She called his name. He’d heard her approaching in the darkness, his heart stilling as she came closer. He turned to face her and drew her into his arms, his lips brushing lightly across her hair, inhaling the scent of her. They remained that way for a time, listening to the sounds of the night and their own hearts beating…

Spike sighed and tossed the spent cigarette butt over the railing. That was the last time they’d been together. He thought back to his decision to leave the Syndicate and the note he’d left her, that he’d meet her by the graveyards, not in them. He had hoped that she’d meet him halfway, and they could walk the rest of the way together. He’d waited and waited, a wet collection of cigarette butts piling at his feet and the bouquet of roses wilting in the rain. And when he lit yet another, he knew that she wasn’t coming, he’d walked all the way and there was no sign of her. He remembered the ache in his heart as he left the cemetery, that the only woman he truly loved did not have the courage to follow her heart as he had followed his. His mind strayed for a moment, and he was back in the present. His mind flickered to thoughts of Faye.

Faye was a woman who had the courage to face head on whatever obstacles were set in her path. He had no doubt of that. She had encountered tremendous obstacles since her cold sleep awakening, yet she still fought to survive. She was an annoying shrew that seemed to find pleasure in irritating him, but when they went out together after bounties, they worked as a team. They had each other’s backs and he trusted her just as he knew that she trusted him. She had proven that time and again.

He knew how she felt about him, he’d seen it in the way she watched him when she thought that no one was looking. He knew it by the way she waited up for him when he returned to the Bebop after a drinking binge, pretending to be watching some late night Earth flick. He remembered the times she’d come to save his ass, the time he’d tumbled from the cathedral window, that time when that crazy fuck had tried to off him at Spaceland. And he knew it by the care she took in patching him up after his many reckless escapades, in the gentle way she cleaned his cuts and stitched his wounds. Faye was a woman who would love fiercely and protectively, Faye was a woman who’d hold you tight and never let go. He wanted to feel that way about someone, to feel that way about her, to bask in the comfort of the love that he knew she’d offer if he ever gave his heart a chance to.

So why did his heart drift back to the woman who’d left him waiting, counting the stars in the night?

101 THINGS IN 1001 DAYS

1. Grow an indoor herb garden
2. Complete a scrapbook of vacation 2008
3. Sign up for winter graduate course

Eyes Wide Open

Lost and winter's on the way
And the air is craving in
And the streets are crumbling
But you are with me
Under the downtown city lights
We become statues without eyes
Barely audible
We're froze in time
I have you where I want you
Oh and I need to look away
When the jets are overhead
And the storm is closing in
Yeah something is happening
Beneath the modern cold high rise
We become statues without eyes
Stand at attention
They all align
I have you where I want you
Then it all aligns
It all aligns
I have you where I want you
We are statues without eyes
We were statues without eyes
We are statues without eyes

---

Faye went rigid at the contact and she glanced up at him uncertainly.

"So, Romani, cat got your tongue?" He watched her as his lips curled into a faint smile.

Faye looked away as she tried to pull out of his grasp, but he was quick, trapping her wrists within his hands.

"Once there was a tiger striped cat … " he continued softly, the smile reaching his eyes as he gazed down at her. When he felt her small hands tighten into fists, he knew how much she probably wanted to punch his lights out at that moment. Faye was a little thing, but she had a lot more strength than men gave her credit for; he, however, wasn't one of them. But he made sure that his grip was secure.

Faye glared at him, not believing that he would actually try to subject her to that stupid cat story she'd overheard him reciting to Jet when he thought he was leaving for good. She refused to stay silent through a retelling. She fought the urge to punch something, preferably his face since, unfortunately, her hands were tied up in his.

"What do you want, Spike?" she asked, her eyebrow twitching ever so slightly as she narrowed her eyes at him.

"Come back to the ship."

"Why?"

"I've already told you why."

"Why should I believe anything you have to say?"

"Jet wants you to come back. Believe me, I'm only doing this for him." Spike winced inwardly as he realized he had slipped up. His thoughts drifted momentarily as he wondered to himself why he was even bothering trying to convince her to return. Still, he wasn't the type to back down from a challenge, and he wasn't about to back off now.

"So?" he grinned idiotically and leaned in towards her face.

"So, was that kiss was from Jet, too?" Faye asked testily, tugging slightly to see whether his grip lessened at all. But she had noticed the almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his eye, and knew that she'd thrown him, even if just a little.

She took the opportunity to wrench herself from his grasp, ignoring his surprised protest, and she dashed out of the tavern to retreat to the safety of her ship.

---

The pod of the Redtail closed with a hiss, and she wearily slumped against the glass as she recalled the mysterious smile he had given her. Something in the way he'd looked at her had made her breath catch, something in the hidden depths of his eyes hinting at something that he wouldn't say.

She could still feel the impact of his mouth, could still remember the feel of his lips against hers. She rubbed her lips with trembling fingers, as if to erase the taste, of cigarettes with a hint of finality, or possibility.

It had scared her. He scared her.

A tap on the pod glass snapped her out of her reverie, and she twisted in her seat to see Spike reaching to knock on the glass again.

"Open up," he mouthed silently, staring at her with an unfathomable look on his face.

She stared back, expressionless, then shook her head as she turned away.

"Open the damn hatch, Faye," he repeated impatiently, knocking harder on the glass.

She knew he wouldn't leave her alone until she did so. Finally she depressed the button, and as the air from the outside wafted into the pod, she closed her eyes and lay back against the seat.

"What?" she asked wearily, suddenly tired of it all, tired of him, tired of trying to figure him out.

"Faye," Spike said, leaning against the open hatch, his hands in his pockets. His voice was muted, as if from somewhere far away."There's something I've been trying to tell you."

Faye listened, her eyes still closed. She didn't really care what he had to say. She needed to get away from him, from the ship, to be somewhere else where she felt in control of her life. She wasn't in control around him. He made her ache, and she was tired of worrying over him, worrying about what he was thinking, worrying about how she felt about him. She didn't want to feel anything for him. She just wanted to move on with her life.

She turned towards him, waiting for him to continue.

He drew in a sigh as he felt her eyes on him.

"When I came back, when I saw you standing there ..." he said, avoiding her eyes. "I thought, what the hell is she still doing here? But then when I looked at your face -- after you hit me -- " he grinned at her as she huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.

He sighed again and looked down at his shoes, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"When I looked at your face, all I could think was, she's still here. And I was ... I don't know, I ... it felt ... right."

Faye let the meaning of his words sink in. Neither of them knew what to say, each unsure of the other.

Finally, Spike broke the silence.

"So, are you coming back?" he asked, still looking down.

"Yeah," she answered quietly.