Love Seeing These Two Being Silly

love seeing these two being silly

Happy Valentine's Day! ^___^

@febuwhump prompt: too weak to move

also Julia/Faye day of Relationship Week @bebopcrew

***

"Whoa whoa whoa! Take it easy!" The voice admonishing her for stirring was vaguely familiar. The advice was easy to follow because she realized she literally could not rise.

There was an awful ache in her chest and all her extremities felt chilled to the bone. Her vision was watery when she blinked her eyes open, desperate to see where she was and what was happening.

The last thing she remembered was agony ripping through her torso...

Pitching forward face first, helpless to lessen the impact...

Spike's gaze, finally showing a glimpse of emotion - a hint of the affection he'd once held for her. His expression was grim.

And then... Nothing.

And now...

An angel looming over her. Violet tresses hanging down around a pale face with worried emerald green eyes peering down at her. Relief eased the crinkle that had marred her brow and enabled Faye to offer her a tender smile.

"You had us pretty worried." Faye went on. Her hands fluttered against Julia's shoulders as if she couldn't keep from touching her gently just to ensure she was real. "Spike thought you bit the dust for sure. Still, he brought you to Doc... Well, Doc said he asked for your body to be cared for. Didn't wanna leave you for those syndicate dogs to... Well, who knows. Anyway, Doc realized you were still alive if only just... He managed to get the bullet out and patched up your lung and then called Jet to come scoop you. Fraidy cat didn't wanna get caught keeping you around if you were gonna live."

Julia frowned. Doc had saved her? He answered only to the Van and it had been the Van who ordered her death. They had been lashing out in the face of Vicious's betrayal. But Vicious had slain the Elders... Annie's last words had given them that knowledge before Spike had gone off on his vendetta. Annie's death had to be avenged, after all.

Did Doc fear a reprisal from Vicious for saving her?

To be fair, Julia was no longer sure what to expect from Vicious.

"Spike's gone off to slay the dragons now like some kinda crusading knight. Jet took off as soon as he got you back here. I knew he'd never be able to let Spike face that kinda danger alone. He's always griping about Spike being reckless, vowing he's not gonna back him up... Sheesh, the amount of bullshit outta those boys... He protests so damn much it's obvious it's all a front but I let them get away with it because they're just too fragile, you know?" Faye flashed her a conspiratorial smile. "You've been in the boys club long enough, I'm sure you're familiar with the masks they wear."

It hurt too much to move but Julia managed a ghost of a smirk. Exhaustion was washing over her heavily. Black spots were beginning to dance in her vision. It seemed like Faye could tell for the other woman gave Julia's shoulders a soft squeeze as she spoke again.

"It's okay. You can rest again - for the best if you do. It's gonna be a while before you're back on your feet. Don't worry though, I'll keep watch. I've had to tend to Spike plenty so I'm pretty good at this kinda thing these days. You're safe. I've got you."

It felt...strange to be the person laid out and hurting. So many years in the Syndicate and Julia had managed to evade injury for all of them (broken hearts didn't count). It was not an experience she ever wanted to personally go through but... Well, you can't control everything in life. There was very little you could control, in fact.

As painful as it was to be nearly on her death bed... It was a comfort to have Faye Valentine looking out for her. The other woman was incredibly competent, the type of badass that Julia could genuinely use as a partner. Darkness began to pull her under but the memory of her encounter with Faye played out in her subconscious again and again...

Leaping to her defense with no idea of the situation at all... Throwing her an invitation to team up without having any clue who she was or what threats were making her life hell...

Her reunion with Spike had left her feeling hollow and cold. It wasn't entirely unexpected but it was still a shame. Their bridge had surely been burned. Despite that, she'd been willing to die at his side. Eager to put an end to the running, to finally close that bloody chapter of her life in whatever way it had to be done.

Surviving was a surprise. After all she'd said and done and undergone...

Well. Perhaps getting to know Faye better would be her reward...

@febuwhump prompt: presumed dead

***

He hadn't genuinely expected to wake up. But if he had bothered to consider such an outcome... waking up alone wouldn't have crossed his mind.

Countless times before he'd come to under Vicious's tired scrutiny, the other man's expression briefly conveying a sense of relief at Spike's survival in the aftermath of whatever deadly shenanigans they'd been assigned by the Van.

When Vicious was sent to Titan, Spike took his life even less seriously than before if such a thing was possible. Mao and Annie worried that he was trying to die.

Fortunately, or unfortunately, he woke up from the worst misadventure under Julia's watchful eye. The gentle cadence of her voice had filtered into his subconscious and coaxed him back to the world of the living and he had been a changed man from that point on.

When he fled the syndicate, he took out a lot of other lives but managed to emerge relatively unscathed himself. There had been no blackness overtaking his senses and therefore no return to recall.

Before Faye's vigils, there had been Jet sitting opposite the couch. There hadn't been too many instances where he'd gone from insensate to convalescing on the couch, at least not until Faye's abduction... and Tongpu's assault... and Vincent's wrath... but the fact remained that there had always been someone nearby. Jet, or Faye, or Ed, or even just Ein.

He had never been alone. Always, he had been guarded. Cared for.

It was something he had not truly realized until emerging from a coma into a stark hospital room with no one else around. Not even a doctor or nurse. No syndicate lackeys keeping an eye on the most dangerous man to brazenly waltz through the Red Dragon Tower doors. Not a soul at all.

No one to grin down at him and recount the hassle of hauling his ass to safety. No one to smile softly at him and tend to him gently. No one to gruffly remind him of how much trouble he was and how lucky he was that he was considered worth it. No one to tease him and taunt him as a form of hiding concern.

He was alive. Alive and alone and neither by conscious choice.

Eventually, a nurse happened along to check on the patient in room 348. He discovered that, according to his chart, he was just another random John Doe. One of the few bodies recovered from the destruction and one that could not be identified as a syndicate member. For all intents and purposes, he was just a man who had stumbled into the wrong place at the wrong time.

Which meant a few things...

For Faye and Jet, who likely weren't even on Mars anymore... there was no doubt that he was presumed dead.

For the assorted suits who had witnessed his collapse and deemed him no longer a threat - he had obviously been considered no longer alive. If they'd thought for a moment that he might rise from the steps, his body would have been riddled by bullets to keep him down.

There was an uncomfortable freedom thrust upon him now. No one aware he existed any longer... no ties to honor or sever... he was just a nobody in an uncaring world with a staggering amount of medical debt adding up more and more as the days dragged on.

He felt more akin to Faye now than ever before. And that made him miss the loud-mouthed harpy. And Jet too, for that matter. Hell, he even missed the dog and the kid.

So he did what no one presumed dead would do in his place... healed up enough that he could steal away from the hospital and the money he owed... and began trying to track down the last known location of his former comrades.

For anyone else this would be an opportunity to start life afresh. To become someone new.

Spike knew better.

He didn't need to become someone new. He didn't need to start fresh. He just wanted to go home, free at last from the ghosts of his past, and begin to truly live with the folks he'd grown to care for so much.

@febuwhump prompt: "You weren't meant to be there."

***

You weren’t meant to be there.

Words he did not dare to speak aloud could not be silenced in his mind. Jet was still unconscious on the hospital bed - the amount of painkillers in his system was no doubt off the chart considering the damage to his shoulder and the series of surgeries that had been required to keep him alive.

Fad, standing vigil in the recovery room now that Jet had been deemed safe enough to move to a quieter floor, glanced guiltily at his partner.

It was his fault Jet was lying there now. But on the other hand, it was only thanks to him that Jet wasn't being buried in a Ganymede cemetery. A necessary evil, like any number of things Fad had done or turned a blind eye to. Leading a double life was no picnic.

The tension in his throbbing skull and the acidic churning of his gut were commonplace ailments these days. If he didn't have an ulcer by now he would be amazed.

The pain was a sort of penance for his service to the Europa Syndicate. Voluntary service at that. Though he was far from the only cop on the take. In fact, it was easier to rattle off the names of the officers not on syndicate payroll.

One of them was lying here in front of Fad now.

The damn dedicated fool.

He had been close... so close to getting out of the precinct and on his way to meet Udai. It was supposed to be a simple meetup and delivery, just another day at the docks getting his palm greased while weapons and drugs arrived to flood the city streets. The usual.

Instead Jet had shown up right before Fad could peel out of the parking lot. The knock on the tinted window had nearly given him a heart attack and then when the full implication of Jet's presence truly registered... that was when his stomach had begun to tie itself in knots.

The Black Dog was not about to let go of this "lead" that Fad was about to investigate. How easy it would have been to report nothing amiss! But no, Jet was still struggling with the absence of Alisa from his life and couldn't face sitting alone at home for hours. Couldn't miss work. Justice was his mistress and he had to heed her even at the cost of his own relationship.

It had been Jet's commitment to the force that had driven a wedge between himself and Alisa. That was Fad's interpretation of the break up at least. He'd erred when he assumed that Jet would diligently take time off to get used to the emptiness of the apartment. Jet Black wasn't the type to take so much as a sick day.

He was gonna get himself killed by being so damn stubborn and so damn honorable. Udai would have shot him flat out if Fad hadn't scrambled to take control of the situation. Firing on another officer... hell, firing on Jet, the partner who had had his back for years, who had kept Far alive on more than one bloody occasion... it had broken something inside of him.

Previously he had always been able to explain away his reasoning for why he did what he did. There were ways to justify criminal behavior to yourself. This, however, had been an assault that no one was paying him for. This had crossed a line in his mind that Fad hadn't even realized he'd drawn.

He had nearly offed his own partner.

Perhaps it would have been better to let Udai handle everything. Move one of the virtuous pieces right off the game board entirely. No more worries about Jet cottoning on to what was happening right under his righteous nose. No more sweat-soaked nightmares of Jet discovering his duplicity and ruining the good thing he had going.

But he refused to let his partner get gunned down on a darkened dock in the wee hours of the morning. He couldn't let Jet die. He owed his partner too much to stand by and let someone else pull the trigger and take his life.

And Fad couldn't take a fatal shot. Wouldn't take a fatal shot.

So he did the next best (next worst) thing... he crippled his comrade.

It would take months if not years for Jet to recover. All the red tape of getting a prosthetic limb approved of and installed and then the physical therapy to learn how to operate such a thing...

He'd effectively ensured that Jet would stay out of trouble for a while at least.

Yeah, that was the answer. That was how he could turn this around to make it acceptable. He'd done the only thing he could do to not only save his partner's life today but to keep him safe for the foreseeable future as well.

The headache began to fade just a touch. There had been so much stress built up over this whole mess... but he could clear his conscience to a tolerable degree and he knew there would be no fallout from the incident from the ISSP or from Europa.

Fad was in the clear. Jet would be on the mend.

These were the things he clung to as he moved towards the window to open it enough to blow smoke outside and avoid the wrath of the nurses nearby.

@bebopcrew; relationship week

day two ★ spike & faye

My Funny Valentine

The music played on loop over the speakers of the RedTail as Faye sat in the pod of her vessel, parked in the Bebop's hangar, and took generous pulls off the bottle of a cheap blush wine.

The lyrics went in one ear and out the other but it didn't matter because she'd already memorized the words. She'd used her share of the paltry sum from Whitney's bounty to purchase the music chip and the wine. The music was a waste - it was a ridiculous song for anyone to claim as their favorite. The wine was a better investment if only for the way it was slowly improving her mood.

For years now she'd had the guilt of Whitney's death hanging over her. Being stuck with his debt, infuriating as it was in the moment of discovery, had seemed like the only gift she could offer his memory. It was such a small thing to offer as consolation for his tragic demise thanks to the insurmountable debt she herself had incurred for simply surviving to this uncaring day and age. Not that Whitney had had any family that Faye could apologize to, at least that was what the Doctor had told her at the time. The "doctor". His uncle? Clearly lying ran deep in the family.

It was something of a relief to not be responsible for his death. Faye had taken a number of lives since being revived and being forced to make her own way in the universe. That first one had been the worst because it had been entirely her fault. If Whitney hadn't taken an interest in her... if he hadn't been trying to help her... if he hadn't convinced her to flee...

Of course, it was all staged. Just a giant ruse to trap her with his financial fuck ups and clear his own slate to start anew. What a fucking ass. How rotten does a person have to be to take someone with no memory and take advantage of them so completely? To pretend at caring about her... to make her feel desired and welcome in this era where she had no one at all except this one individual...

It made her flush with shame. It was embarrassing that she'd been hustled so hard. And she hadn't even realized 'til now! She'd carried the weight of Whitney's dying, shouldered the responsibility of his debt - not that she had done anything about paying back his or her own for that matter. But the way he had burdened her... emotionally, financially... offering her guidance and then cruelly skipping out on her before she really had her footing.

"I was wrong."

Faye startled at the unexpected voice, nearly fumbling the wine. Bringing the bottle to her lips to try and pretend like she'd always been in control of it, she looked out at the silhouette of Spike Spiegel framed in the doorway between the hangar and the rest of the ship.

"You're not a horrible woman, Faye. Even if he had died because people were gunning for you. The choices another individual makes are their own responsibility. Saddling you with his debt, whether he lived or died, that was a dick move."

Flabbergasted, Faye simply stared at the lanky cowboy.

"But I stand by the other stuff I said. About your past being inconsequential. We can't go back and fix things. There's no redoing any of it. So... fuck it. Forget about it. Leave it in the dust where it belongs." He was wandering closer, hands stuffed in his pockets.

Faye swallowed hard. He was right, of course. She hadn't learned anything helpful - well, aside from being innocent of getting Whitney murdered. And Doctor Baccus had been a rude son of a bitch. If any of the shit they'd told her had been true, she'd basically been in the midst of puberty still when whatever had happened had happened. So fuck him if she had questions about who she was and where she was from and what lay ahead.

Besides, that last bit was the same shit anyone had on their mind at any given time. You didn't have to be young to wonder about your future. In life there was only uncertainty... uncertainty surrounding everything no matter your age, no matter the job security or familial connections or commitment to your dreams.

She pressed a button on the console and took the music chip as it was ejected. Tossing the bottle of wine out to Spike who hastily pulled his hands from his pockets to catch it, Faye held the chip in both hands and snapped it in half. Dropping the broken pieces carelessly into the messy floor of her zipcraft pod, she hopped out.

"Song was shit." She muttered as she walked past Spike, pickpocketing his cigarettes as she went. Before she got out of reach though she turned around and snagged the bottle back from him.

There was a grin pulling at his lips. He reached into his pocket and withdrew his lighter to waggle it at her.

"Not gonna burn through those without this, Romani." He murmured.

Faye smirked. "Thy vacant brow and thy tousled hair conceal thy good intent." She tilted her head towards the interior of the ship. "Light me up on the bridge and maybe I'll give you a sip or two."

Chuckling, Spike moved up next to her and they fell into step side by side as they went to watch the stars slide by.