Seeing Double / Working To Exhaustion / You Look Awful (sometimes I Get So Tired, I Dont Even Know Myself)

seeing double / working to exhaustion / you look awful (sometimes I get so tired, I don’t even know myself)

Jet blinked and peered blearily at the screen that was dancing in front of his eyes. It was difficult to make out the text or the image simply because he was seeing double. He was exhausted, no, he was well beyond exhausted.

But he couldn't go home to sleep.

Home was empty.

Reminders of the life he'd once shared with Alisa surrounded him there. Memories they'd made in the tiny apartment by the sea. Hell, the place still smelled like her favorite perfume and the kitchen had a zing of the spice he'd put on the last dinner that he'd made for her before she up and disappeared.

Well, that wasn't precisely true. She hadn't vanished... she'd left.

And despite his connections, despite his sleuthing skills, he refused to track her down. What good would it do to hound her? If you love something, you have to let it go, right? It'll come back on its own if it wants to. Stalking someone you proclaim affection for... that would be the antithesis of love.

Besides, he'd made a deal with himself. Had left a window of opportunity wide open for her to return. The pocket watch ticking away in his pocket was the reassuring reminder of that.

Tick, tick, tick...

He jerked abruptly as his chin hit his chest. Working himself to exhaustion wasn't exactly the best course of action in the aftermath of a breakup but at least it gave him something to focus on. Maybe he'd been too focused on the job to begin with? Was that why she left? A moot point now if so... besides, he was getting so close with this case. Corner a few more rats, hear a few more confessions, and he thought he might just have the answer he was looking for.

Europa had a huge problem with syndicates. It was the type of problem that bled over into nearby moons and sure enough it had begun to rear its diabolical head here on Ganymede in the past few years. Of course it had, the moons were all in varying states of depression or recession or population loss in the wake of the Titan War. And still there were murmurings that another war seemed inevitable.

He idly wondered if Ganymede might be smart enough to stay out of it this time. Was there even a choice?

He was just a cop, though. If the military wanted to go cause a ruckus elsewhere in the galaxy... well, good for them. Or, fuck 'em. It didn't matter a whit to Jet.

If the war was brought here to his doorstep, that was another story. So the potential war? Not his concern. The strengthening syndicate presence here on Ganymede took priority. There'd been an influx of drugs and criminals. Suddenly people were getting nervous about being out at night. There were neighborhoods that were no longer full of happy families but instead were full of abandoned houses and illegal activities.

Investigating one of the docks was actually the goal for the evening. Even if nothing panned out from this, it felt good to have a purpose.

A Styrofoam cup bearing steaming coffee was sat down on his desk, a few drops sloshing over onto Fad's hand before he could pull it away quick enough. The other man hissed in pain and shook out the hand, shaking off the scalding drops. Jet's eyes traveled over his partner and he wondered briefly if he looked as bad. They'd been pulling such long hours lately...

"Thanks. You look awful," he said gruffly to his partner.

Fad looked down at him with tired eyes but Jet wasn't sure if the other man even saw him. He had that look, what was it called? A thousand yard stare?

"Sometimes... I get so tired... I don't even know myself." Fad muttered, half to himself. He blew out a deep breath and rolled his neck before taking a sip of his own hot coffee and hissing again at the temperature as it hit his tongue. He gave Jet a rueful grin. "You might've thanked me too soon for the coffee, Jet. It wasn't the dregs this time, but piss water might be better tasting."

Jet huffed a short laugh. "If it keeps us upright and moving forward... well, then it's doing its job."

Fad closed his eyes for a moment and nodded sharply as if to wake himself up. "Speaking of that. You ready?"

Climbing to his feet, Jet nodded. "Crime waits for no one. Let's hit it." Grabbing the cup, accidentally splashing some of the dark liquid onto his left hand as he used his right to grab his gun holster out of the drawer it was in, he winced at the heat. 'Tis but a scratch! He thought to himself absently, a bit of dark humor at the unexpected yet insignificant pain. The Black Knight was one of his favorite parts of that old Earth sketch comedy. Something about the way the man never wavered in his pursuit of ...well, guarding a bridge for no discernable reason like a madman, but moreover his determination, how he never gave up... it really spoke to Jet. The man was like him. After all, when the Black Dog bites, he never lets go.

He finished his coffee as he followed Fad out the door.

storm / buried alive / they're not breathing! (you’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave)

Panic choked him as he reached the spot where the snow had finally stopped moving. There was no sign of Faye. But he'd gone over the safety guidelines of skiing with her over and over again, including the section on what to do if you get caught up in an avalanche, so he trusted that she'd tried to swim to the edge as the snow carried her with it downhill. He'd been so close... he had seen that there were no trees or rocks for her to attempt to cling onto to avoid being buried alive... but on the other hand, that meant there hadn't been immovable objects for her to slam into while the momentum of the snow swept her along.

Her scream echoed in his ears and he chastened himself repeatedly as he dug into the settling snow. He'd lost his glove at some point but it didn't matter in the least. He'd give up his good arm just to save her if that's what it took. He couldn't even feel the cold anymore as his body began to burn from the exertion of trying to sift through the endless white in search of the bright magenta of her space suit, or the dark splash of her purplish hair. No doubt the cap she'd filched from the ski lodge gift shop was long gone in the tumble she'd just undergone.

What felt like hours later, he swiped against something that didn't feel like snow. Hope surged in his chest and nearly blinded him from being able to see that he had indeed uncovered a portion of one of her boots, thankfully still attached snugly to her shapely leg. Acting fast, he gently but relentlessly scooped handful after handful of snow away from her body until enough of her was revealed that he felt comfortable trying to pull her loose of her icy prison.

Fuck, he'd never hear the end of it after this. He knew how much she hated cold. Knew how depressing she found Callisto to be. Yet she'd been willing to entertain him when he had the wild idea of encouraging her to embrace both things. He'd foolishly thought that if he could give her some good memories, take her on an adventure that would let them cozy up in front of a fireplace while watching a snowstorm rage outside of floor-to-ceiling windows in their own private lodge... the plan had merit, but it had backfired in the worst way with this unforeseen event.

His excitement over discovering her was washed away abruptly as he realized she wasn't breathing.

No.

NO.

Before desolation could set in, before he'd dare give up on her, his body automatically began to go through the motions of CPR. It had been ages since he'd had to put the life saving skills of an ISSP officer to use, but he moved instinctively now as if he was back in the training room and earning top marks from the med tech in charge of educating them. This was so much more important than a passing grade. This was Faye - the woman who'd weaseled aboard his ship and weaseled her way into his heart. She'd been through so much... but she was a fighter! She'd fought to survive for years, fought to prove she cared about him for months in the wake of Spike's death, fought against her own uncertainties and fears to join him here for a vacation that should have let them relax and just be together.

"Dammit, Faye!" He shouted. Shouting at her, at the cloudy heavens above. "You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave! You're supposed to grow old with me! Don't you dare give up now! BREATHE, dammit!"

Snowflakes began making their peaceful way down to the moon's frozen surface. Aside from the thump of his fists against her chest, there was no sound. Her lips underneath his were icy and nonresponsive. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She was always lighting him on fire. Always kissing him with such burning passion that he couldn't ignore or disbelieve her when she vowed to love him, when she promised to stay.

"You promised, Faye!" He sobbed. "You promised me you'd stay..."

And then, just when he'd sat back on his heels... ready to give up after no doubt breaking a rib or two of hers in the painful process of trying to restart her heart...

A weak cough. A ragged inhale. The softest moan he'd ever heard from her - her sounds in the bedroom were never quiet, after all - and suddenly she was tiredly blinking her eyes open. Wetness trailed from those gorgeous green irises as she tried to shift to look over at him but he couldn't let her move - he had to wrap her tenderly in his arms, crushing her to himself as he bowed his head over her shoulder and buried his face in the snow-damp tendrils of her beautiful hair.

"Hey... easy... there... cowboy," She murmured. "I... may not... be made... of glass... but I feel... fucking shattered."

"Don't you ever scare me like that again!" He ordered, easing his hug up just a touch. Belatedly, he thought to worry about other injuries she might have sustained in the descent. "Are you okay? No broken bones? Your skis are long gone I'm afraid. Hat too, love."

"Uhhh... I think... everything seems... intact. Fuck those... skis anyway... will you... carry me back? I... wanna just... curl up with you... watch this snow..." She chuckled, a sound threaded through with pain. "It looks... like it might... storm soon. Let's... get someplace warm. Wait... it out... together."

He inhaled sharply. "I don't know how you read my mind so well."

Another half-laugh, half-groan. "Same way... I fleeced you... all those years ago. You're just... an easy mark."

"Spike told me about your little dice trick." Jet told her then, carefully moving to stand with her in a bridal carry in his arms. The good one ached from the shoveling he'd done, but the metal one was solid underneath her fine form. He was grateful for that - a bit of insurance to see to it he was able to bring her somewhere safe.

"That... jerk.  Giving away... all my secrets!" She huffed. Her eyes glittered at him with amusement and adoration. "Rematch, love? No tricks... this time..." Her smile was devious despite her assurance.

"Okay, Faye. But when I win... don't think I'll be renting your clothes back to you. And... maybe I'll run around the ship naked with ya."

borrowed clothing / bridal carry / not much longer (it’s okay just to say “I’m not okay.”)

Part Three of Three (first prompt 6, second prompt 28)

"...not much longer..." A familiar voice was assuring her. Or someone near her at any rate.

Faye immediately regretted the return to consciousness. There was pain in every portion of her body that was currently reporting to her mind. Some parts seemed to be numb but that was a pale sort of relief when you considered why they might be lacking sensation, and when you considered how eventually that numbness would recede and discomfort would take its place.

She was being carried in someone's arms, one strong arm under her upper back and another under her knees as if she were about to be brought over a threshold into a happy new future as someone's blushing bride. There was something unpleasant smelling covering her... she squinted at her own lap and realized she was wrapped in a filthy and bloodstained trench coat. What the fuck?

"Faye?" Her ride was speaking to her.

"I'm fine." She replied instantly, though she was the furthest thing from fine that she could imagine.

A wheezy chuckle. "Don't make me laugh. I'll drop you." She noticed the arms that were carrying her seemed to be shaking from the strain. "It's okay to just say 'I'm not okay' you know. It's just us, you don't have to put on a show of strength."

"Look... whose talking..." she mumbled, head lolling against the dirty suit jacket that could only belong to one man. "In what... mad world... did I decide to borrow your clothes?"

"If it's any consolation, you fought me pretty hard while I tried to put that around you." Spike told her. "Granted, you were obviously out of your head with delirium thinking that I was the enemy. For someone so fucked up... you still had quite a bit of fight in you." There was definitely pride in his tone and Faye smiled.

"We going... back to the ship?"

"Nah, well, yeah. Not immediately though. Almost to Doc's place. It's kinda like a safehouse and he can patch us up while we're there. I don't know where your bracelet is and my ship is too far to get to."

"My bracelet..." That was a significant blow. Having the ability to call upon her own vessel for rescue or a quick escape? Absolutely clutch in so many situations.

"We'll see if Doohan can rig you up another." Spike promised, seeming to understand her dismay. "In the meantime... well, I'll come running whenever you call."

He had clearly been through a bloodbath on her behalf. There were far worse options as far as having a backup plan went. Or, backup in general.

This wasn't the first time he'd answered a hail to save her life. And truthfully she trusted his ability to get her out of no-win scenarios just as much as she trusted herself to do the same. Perhaps it was time to admit that she was grateful for his presence in her life... to admit she needed him around.

"Spike, I... you..." she fumbled over her words, knowing what she wanted to say but not sure how to get it out.

"I know." He interrupted.

She tilted her head to look up at him in confusion and saw a smirk dance across his lips. "Wha..."

"You told me all sorts of stuff last night when you thought we were about to die." He replied. And then glanced down at her with a softer smile. "You were pretty out of it so I won't hold you to anything you said."

A blush spread across her cheeks. What could she have confided? Worse, what could she have promised?

"Stop thinking so loud," he complained then. "I can practically feel you giving yourself a headache. Later, when we've had a chance to decompress, I'll tell you everything you might have forgot."

vows / restraints / don't move (see the chains around my feet)

Ed shuffled her feet nervously, vowing to listen to Jet in the future when he said not to take things into her own hands.

The chains around her feet were an effective restraint, much like the manacles that held her arms bound just above her head. As someone who had never so much as enjoyed trapping her toes inside shoes, this was torturous in and of itself. She was like a bird in a cage, except there was a gag around her mouth so she couldn't even sing.

She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and felt a rush of relief as she saw Faye-Faye stir where she'd been similarly trussed up.

When the other woman had failed to check in, Ed had gotten worried. She'd been back on the Bebop for only a week or two now and things there were still getting back to what she was used to before. Jet hobbled about the ship attending to the endless repairs needed to get it space worthy again while Spike remained incapacitated on the couch. That meant it was up to Ed to be the backup Faye clearly needed against this bounty head. She'd left Ein watching over Spike and had made off with the Swordfish II before Jet could realize she was up to something. He'd been convinced that Faye was fine and just being her usual unreliable self. Had forbidden Ed from going after her.

But Ed had known something was wrong. She'd come back to the Bebop originally because she had realized, after scouring the Earth for weeks looking for her father, that she preferred being someplace where people had your back. Where someone remembered to set out a plate for you for dinner. Where they looked after one another. And that meant she couldn't simply sit and wait for Faye to save herself - she had to act!

Getting caught by the extortioner hadn't been part of her plan though. The chains were cold and heavy against her ankles and the manacles were digging into the sensitive skin of her wrists. She had tried and tried to pull her hands through the metal circles but had only succeeded in making her forearms slick with blood leaking from the abrasions. Escaping handcuffs was more difficult than the videos she'd watched had led her to believe.

"Don't move." Faye's voice rang out clearly. She'd obviously woken all the way up and had realized they were alone in the damp basement of the abandoned house. The gag that had been around her mouth had been worked down until it was under her chin.

"Ed can almost break free!" She insisted, wincing as she tried to contort her hands again. Her gag had ensured that her words were muffled probably beyond understanding but Faye was smart and could see what Ed was up to.

The other woman sighed. "Ed. You're hurting yourself. Hold still, would you? Let me just..." There was an odd sound and then Faye's arms dropped down from the cuffs they'd been locked in. "Give me a minute to get these chains off my feet and then I'll come get you loose."

Ed felt a rush of pride at her companion's abilities and relief that she could stop straining her arms in her attempt to break free. It wasn't even embarrassing to have to be saved, not when she was learning something from her mistakes!

Once Faye had gotten the chains off and moved over to Ed, lowering her gag first, she set to make quick work of the restraints.

"Faye-Faye, you've saved the day! Ed came to rescue you! Will you teach Ed how to bust free? Videos didn't help! Please, please?"

Faye bared her teeth at Ed in a fierce grin. "You bet I will, Ed." The older woman vowed. "There's no way I want you stuck in a situation like this on your own, unable to do anything for yourself except scar up your arms. Now, will you stay down here while I go check if the upstairs is clear or should I assume you're gonna be right on my heels?"

"Ed wants to help! This guy had cuffs that fit my tiny wrists - that means he's held kids hostage before as blackmail. Ed is not about to let him roam free!"

Faye sighed. "Well, okay then but you need to stay out of my way, all right? Stay behind me and cover my back. Let me handle all the hard hitting." She glanced around at the space they were in. "C'mon, I'm gonna kick out those pipes over there. We need some weapons and I think those will do just fine..."

They've been stuck on Io for weeks. Faye has gotten tan. Jet has gotten sunburnt, though that's to be expected after so many hours spent repairing the hull from their crash landing. Spike has somehow managed to avoid the sun for the most part. Ed knows this because she has seen him doing repairs on interior portions of the ship but even more often, she has stumbled across him sleeping in various patches of shade that the Bebop itself provides.

“Ehehehe, no wonder Spike-person claims to hate dogs.” Ed muses to Ein after they've found Spike for the third time in two days. “He has all the sleepy energy of a cat.”

Ein gives a whine as a response and Ed nods thoughtfully.

“Yeah I suppose that's true. Ed has seen kitties shift around to stay in a sun patch as the light moves across the floor. Spike-person avoids it as if he were a vampire! Aha! Now Ed knows why Jet-person keeps so many blood bags in the workshop freezer.”

Ein snuffles along the dirt, puffs of sand rising into the air around his muzzle. His ears twitch towards Ed and then flatten to his furry head and Ed laughs.

“You're right. If Spike-person was a vampire we'd never have enough blood on the ship with how he goes through it after his knock’em down drag ‘em out fights. Besides, he loves garlic.”

“Flavors and spices help you feel full for longer after eating.” Spike’s voice drifts over to the pair playing at the edge of the Bebop’s shadow.

Ed glances over and notices Spike has not moved a muscle aside from his mouth. She nods even though one of his arms is draped over his eyes and he likely cannot see.

“That is a lesson Ed knows well! Back on Earth it was fun to snack on peppers. Hot hot yum! Io reminds Ed of Earth. All the sand stretching miles and miles… so few people scattered about…”

“A whole lot of nothing and nobody.” Spike grumbles. “We're lucky Jet was able to find any parts to fix the ship. Don't know how we'll be able to pay for it with so few bounties out here.”

“Chewing gum keeps hunger at bay too.” A new voice chimes in brightly. Ein gives a startled woof and Ed spins on her heels - an impressive feat in a squatted position - to see Faye as she makes her way under the shade of the hull, lazily fanning herself with an age-stained maintenance pamphlet. “As for the bounty issue… keep letting this one nip into town doing the trades she's been doing and they'll put a bounty out on her.”

Spike has not given any sign of alarm at Faye's unexpected arrival but he does snort at her words. “Collecting bounties on ourselves? Suppose that's not the worst idea I've ever heard from you.” With what seems like incredible effort he sits up at last to peer at Ed with a furrowed brow. “What's she talking about with trades?”

Ed shrugs. “Ed brings knickknacks and doodads and whatnot to the fruit stands. Leaves an offering and takes a treat! Fair trade!”

Spike is chuckling before she even finishes her explanation and Faye is not succeeding at hiding the smile on her face. Ein briefly gives Ed a glance with what looks like reproval on his little furry face. It's an expression she thinks he's learned from Jet.

“It is a good system! It is how Ed kept fed on Earth! This for that!” She insists. Ein tilts his head and opens his mouth in a doggy grin and she knows she's convinced him of her logic.

“So all this reminds you of home, huh?” Spike asks then, kicking up dust with the toe of one shoe and glancing around at the vast empty expanse where the Bebop is crashed.

Ed frowns. “Home?”

Faye tucks away the pamphlet and pulls a pack of cigarettes from her top, one of many secret stash pockets in her skimpy costume. It's an outfit fairly well suited for the heat of Io. She sparks one up and, though she deliberately ignores the pleading look from Spike’s direction, she jumps right on board with his train of thought.

“Yeah, home. You know, Earth? Where we found you?” Faye waves casually towards the hull of the Bebop, no doubt trying to indicate the sky and, out there beyond the atmosphere, the existence of Earth far away.

“Home.” Ed repeats, rolling the word around in her mouth. “Hooooome. Hommmmmme.”

She watches Spike and Faye share a look of exasperated affection mingled with perplexion. It's one of her favorite looks to inspire from the others. They see the world so plainly, never taking it apart place by place or moment by moment. Ed enjoys opening their eyes to deeper truths and making them question their own way of thinking.

“Ed is home.” She elaborates eventually, before they grow bored of waiting for a genuine response. She rises up on her toes and stretches up up up with her arms. Her fingers are nowhere near touching the cool metal of the ship, but she can practically feel the rhythmic vibration resonating through the old trawler as, elsewhere, Jet diligently works to get it space worthy once more.

Ein is at her feet now and licks her left shin, making her giggle and shift to crouch down at his level so she can give him a vigorous rub.

“Parts of Earth have been home. Perhaps will be home again. For now, Bebop-Bebop is home. The taste of Jet-person’s cooking is home. The sound of Spike-person's snoring and joking and advising and complaining is home. The feel of Faye-Faye’s fingers brushing and untangling Ed's hair is home. The smell of Ein-woof-woof’s fur and farts and doggy breath is home.” She grins at them and then reiterates. “Ed is home.”

She sees the impact of her words in their nonverbal response. By the slow blink Spike has and the offhand way Faye reaches over towards him to offer the rest of her cigarette while she looks pointedly in another direction. They still think this is just a way station only - a reprieve from the rest of the world that they will take advantage of until the time comes for them to rediscover their true home in the world. They won't - or can't - admit that home changes.

Ed has had many homes over the years and several unusual families. She knows she will have many more. It's comfortable on the Bebop and she loves her companions - she doesn't want to leave and so for now she won't. But someday she knows this can change. Life is full of change, it's what makes it so exciting. It's what allows hope to burn in the heart. Today might be crap but tomorrow…oh, tomorrow…

Her future is uncertain and she is glad for that. How boring it would be otherwise! For now there are good people she shares a space ship with. For now there is a furry friend who understands her on a level few others ever have. For now the sun is shining and there is fruit in the fridge that she brought home, thanks to the trade she made with some of the oddities from the storage room Jet-person once met a monster in.

“C’mon, Ein!” She cheers, scooping the dog up into her arms and standing with so much energetic momentum that she simply has to spin in place before taking off towards the source of the thuds echoing through the hull of the ship. “Let's go help Jet fix our home! Let's get back to the stars!”

matches / scars / let me see (you drew stars around my scars, but now I’m bleeding)

TW: mention/suggestion/implication of rape, physical assault

He found her on the flight deck of the Bebop, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the ship and repetitively sparking matches and letting them burn down to her fingertips before tossing the remnants into the dark night waters of the Martian bay. There was an unlit cigarette hanging loosely from her downturned lips and her outfit looked suspiciously like one of his button-up shirts paired with her comfortable booty shorts.

"Wanna lit me with one of those before you waste them all?"

She gazed at the small flame of the currently lit match her held, green eyes going crossed with how close it was to her face, and then obediently moved to offer it to him. The flame flickered at the motion but stayed alight and Spike settled down onto the cold metal of the deck with a suppressed groan before fishing out a crumpled cigarette from the pack in his jacket pocket and leaning painfully over to the flame to light his smoke. Inhaling with relish, he shifted back into what he hoped would be a more comfortable position. Given how banged up his body was at present, there wasn't much chance of that no matter how he stood or sat or laid.

Faye finally moved to ignite her own cigarette before the match went out and was subsequently tossed into the waters with the rest.

"Ed is gonna yell at you for being a litter bug," he remarked casually.

Faye stared out over the water without making a reply.

He eyed her inconspicuously as possible, wondering at what was going through her head. They'd just saved an entire city if not the entire world. Ed was inside with Jet, celebrating with a feast of the candy treats she'd collected when she managed to drag the ex-cop out onto the streets earlier. Spike himself had been considering slipping off to bed for some peace and quiet when he'd realized, despite the noise from Jet and Ed and Ein watching horror movies in the living room, there was a voice missing from the cacophony. Curiosity outweighed the agony of his body and he'd snuck out of the ship following some inner urging that had directed him to discover her out here under the stars.

They burnt through another two cigarettes apiece before Faye ran out of matches. Spike of course had a lighter on him, and likely Faye did as well, but neither of them reached for the easy way of continuing their vice. Deciding the silence had stretched as long as he was content with allowing, he reached over to tug at a loose string dangling from the cuff of his shirt. Her left arm, the one he was sitting closest to, was almost drowning in the fabric with just the tips of her fingers visible from the material. It was one of his clean shirts, but it was also one that needed Jet to fix a few spots. There were more frayed threads here and there, and a button missing from near the collar. She must have knicked it out of the pile of clothes in the laundry room that were waiting for Jet to mend them. But why take this instead of one of her own tank tops? It's not like the evening air was chilly enough to necessitate long sleeves.

"Nice getup," he teased.

Her gaze flitted down to the top she wore, over to his mischievous grin, and then settled back over the sea. After a moment, she withdrew a lighter from her shorts pocket and pushed up the sleeves of the shirt to hold both hands over her lap. Expressionless, she lit the lighter and then put her left hand directly over the flame. 

He tolerated her masochistic form of entertainment for about sixty seconds before snatching the lighter from her. Faye's lips quirked into a perturbed expression as she held both her hands, palms up, in front of herself. The pale skin was pinkish where the flame had licked at her delicate skin. He could see that her fingertips were slightly singed as well.

"Self-harm, Faye? You never struck me as the type."

"...I got caught today." She admitted in a soft voice. Her gaze dipped down again to her body, then back out to the water. "I should be dead right now. I... could have been violated." A shiver coursed through her. "He cut my clothes off... put the knife right there..." her right hand fluttered below her sternum, where her vinyl top was typically held together by a triangular button.

"Let me see." Spike surprised himself by speaking. Faye's eyes widened briefly and she looked over at him in disbelief or dismay. "Did he cut your skin? You've gotta take care of that or it'll leave a scar," he was babbling but couldn't seem to stop his mouth. "I should know, I've got plenty of scars and maybe if I'd done something sooner I wouldn't have as many marks, as many reminders."

"Shh," Faye was suddenly kneeling next to him, her hands fisted on top of her thighs but flexing as if she wanted to do something else with them. Touch him perhaps? He didn't know what she was up to. Didn't know where her mind was at. She'd clearly undergone something traumatic earlier and he'd somehow not noticed until now. How did he miss that? When did it happen? What exactly had happened?

Then one of her hands was pressing against his mouth. He could taste the salt on the palm of her right hand - the unburnt one. Had he continued talking?

"Nothing happened. I wasn't cut. I was... scared, but that's all. It's whatever - just another day, just another dollar right?" She laughed self-deprecatingly. "Would've been nice to get some money from this one but, eh, I'll settle for surviving I guess." She sighed sadly. "Just another scare, just another scar that no one can see but me. I don't have any scars on my skin... they're all in my head or in my heart."

The palm of her left hand was burnt from the lighter, the thumb and pointer finger of her right hand burnt from the matches, the fire in her eyes as she stared at him was scorching him on a level he hadn't thought reachable any longer. Her right hand was still over his mouth but her left hand made itself busy undoing one and then another and then another of the buttons on his shirt. She was holding her breath, he could tell. His body began to react of its own accord by shrugging off his jacket - hard to do as injured as he was, but he kissed her palm to distract himself from that momentary distress. She inhaled sharply and licked her own lips.

"Can I see yours?" She asked in a whisper. "Your scars."

Afraid to break physical contact with her, he nodded slowly and brought his own hands up to pull open the shirt she'd undone. Faye took her hand from his mouth and the other from where it had lingered in the air after the unbuttoning was done and put both, trembling, onto his shoulders to push him gently down to recline on the discarded fabric of his clothes. Even if she'd laid him out on the cool metal of the deck himself, he felt like he would still be about to combust. Most of his body was covered by gauze and bandages from his encounters with Vincent. Some of those would undoubtedly scar. Hell, the bruising on his chest and around his face hadn't even begun to come in yet... it would only get worse over the coming days. The pain would also ratchet up now that the adrenaline was spent and his body could start to realize what it had undergone. He'd nearly died today too - something they shared... technically something they shared with the rest of Alba City, but it felt more intimate between the two of them. Vincent could have been their end. 

Oddly, it was his memories of Faye that had helped him cling to life when it had felt so hit-or-miss earlier. Fierce and fiery and fun Faye. Clever and cunning and capable. Bold and brazen and beautiful. She radiated vitality and something in him responded so positively to that force. She put her all into things and that made him want to invest himself as well. She had a future and he wanted to be a part of it - something he'd denied at first but had almost fully committed to now.

She took something out of her pocket, licked her lips again and used the object to apply a smear of lipstick to those sinfully inviting lips. Then, she brought the lipstick down to his body and used him like a canvas. Guided by the starlight twinkling above them and the light of the bridge that washed out over the flight deck, she traced stars around his scars.

She was making him a work of art, but it felt like he was bleeding out. All the emotion he'd worked so hard to bottle up, to push down, to ignore or deny... it was leaking out of his damaged heart and pooling all around his body. And when she was done with her makeshift paintbrush, she went back over the places she had been and put kisses on each spot. Fleeting touches of her lips to his overheated skin, offering a breath of relief to the hypersensitive scar tissue. Her kisses cauterized his wounds and then she was bowed down over his face and tentatively pressing her lips to his. It was revitalizing. No longer was he bleeding out messily all over. She wrapped herself around him like a bandage and kissed him like she was giving him the breath of life.

And he realized that he must be doing the same thing to her. Proving to her that she'd survived the ordeal she'd been through. Bringing her through the fire so she could rise anew from the ashes.