@febuwhump Alternate Prompt: Immortality

@febuwhump alternate prompt: immortality

***

He, like the fabled phoenix, had risen from the ashes more times than memory could even recall.

Would such a creature be fated to be trapped under the scrutiny of callous souls and scientific study as he himself has been?

Immortality was his, not theirs, and it drove them mad with envy and anger and urgent speculation.

All their curiosity and all of their endless testing and all of their brutal investigation would not yield them any useful answers.

He, in a fit of rage, made sure the destruction of the complex was complete. All lives accounted for and extinguished. If any had been favored as he had been, well, they would have emerged into the eternal dust storm that plagued the surface of Titan.

No, he was alone. The only true immortal.

And what price had he paid? Bought in blood, his own and that of countless others, that was nothing new in terms of advancement. Secured at the cost of everything that had come before - that, well, that was a tragedy truly. What had he forgotten? Who had he been?

Surprisingly, his mind conjured a few quotes on the matter, perhaps to further rub salt in the wound that would never heal no matter his longevity.

"The key to immortality is first living a life worth remembering." Fuck you for that adage, Bruce Lee.

"Unable are the loved to die, for love is immortality." Fuck you as well, Emily Dickinson.

That was the pain that pulsed strongest in his heart and left the most bitter taste in his mouth.

Had he loved? Had he been loved? Had that been taken from him?

There was no way to find the answer. He was a shadow of a man, a specter of humanity. He would endure after all else had perished. It was, after all, his plan.

More must suffer for his own agonies. For the beauty of life denied him.

The answer was in the whisper of the butterfly's wings, kissing his cheeks. Each flap echoed in his tormented soul. Were they real? Was he real? Was anything real?

He was a man destined to outlast stars.

But first he must avenge himself and the others who had been experimented on and abandoned. First he must purge the red planet of the undeserving lives thriving there where no life ought to be.

In the end, it would be him and the butterflies.

love seeing these two being silly

Happy Valentine's Day! ^___^

canon. the man likes cats.

Two cats ^^

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.

@febuwhump prompt: "Who did this to you?"

doubles as my submission for Relationship Week: Spike and Faye and Jet @bebopcrew

***

She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and frowned at the smear of bright red blood that stood out so vibrantly against her pale skin. Well, at least she hadn't been wearing her gloves - blood was such a bitch to get out of fabric.

"Faye?" Spike's voice held an uncharacteristic note of concern.

She paused on the landing between the two short flights of stairs in the living room. Spike was sitting on the couch with a steaming cup of ramen cradled in his hands. He was frowning at her over the top of it and his worried expression along with his greeting had also drawn Jet's attention for the other man was turning away from the computer screen to see what had Spike so perturbed.

Both men were on their feet so abruptly that Faye felt like she'd somehow missed a segment of time. Was she that zoned out?

"Who did this to you?" Jet was demanding as he tried to lead her over to the couch.

Spike, grim-faced, was already rooting through the mini fridge for the small arsenal of bullets and other destructive items he liked to stash there.

Faye fobbed off Jet's tentative grasp of her right arm but wobbled alarmingly enough that he was able to successfully catch hold of her on his second attempt. Feeling far too spent to fight off his attention, Faye gave in to the doctoring that Jet began to administer once he'd gotten her onto the couch.

"Which bounty were you after?" Spike asked quietly as Jet dug through the medical kit they kept stashed in the living room.

Faye turned her head to spit out a mouthful of blood. She felt bad about that momentarily but then remembered how many times Spike had bled all over the furniture and floor in here and decided she'd earned the right to do the same on occasion.

"Goliath." She muttered. "Aptly named, turns out. Dunno what happened. I shot him. I know I did. Point blank." She'd never had an adversary react the way the giant man had. It was like the bullets she fired at him lent him an unholy strength. In retrospect, being close enough for her target to reach out and grab her was not the best idea. The whole benefit of using a gun was to keep your distance so you stayed out of trouble. But she'd assumed he would... well, at least flinch. Instead, he'd smiled the most terrible smile she had ever seen crawl across someone's face and then he'd snapped his hand out so fast that she hadn't been able to dance away from his strike.

"Jet." Spike's voice was calm yet Faye could sense a maelstrom of meaning in the tone used to address the other man. It had always mystified and impressed her how little the two men had to say to one another to communicate effectively.

Sure enough, Jet understood every portion of the things Spike left unsaid.

"I'll send you coordinates as soon as I get the location." He was still preoccupied with trying to staunch the blood flowing from a gash across Faye's right side. Surprisingly, that open wound didn't hurt nearly as much as where Goliath's fists had landed on her left hip and her right cheek, nor where his ridiculously strong grip had crushed her right wrist when he latched onto her dominant hand to knock her gun away.

Spike was already to the circular door by the time Faye blinked again.

"My gun," she murmured, wincing as Jet began to clean along the cut so he could stitch it up neatly.

"I'll find it." Spike assured her. "Tell Jet everything you know before you pass out. I don't wanna go looking for a needle in a haystack trying to find this guy."

She gave him a jaunty little salute though she immediately regretted the movement. Everything was sore or seeping blood. She hadn't had her ass handed to her that badly in years. If the sirens of approaching squad cars hadn't frightened off the bounty... well, she decided not to think about that. What ifs were pointless.

"Okay Faye... so where did this all go down and where do you think he went..." Jet began interrogating her while suturing her side.

It had been demeaning to be tossed around like a ragdoll. She didn't like having to admit there were times she was in over her head. But something in her heart swelled at how the guys jumped to offer assistance without her having to ask. Likely they knew how difficult it was to swallow one's pride and admit to needing help. But they made it so she didn't have to voice her failure at all... they just bypassed that aspect of the issue and dove straight to the heart of things - taking stock of her injuries and taking over the mission of bringing Goliath down.

Hissing at the pressure of Jet's metal fingers pinching her flesh together so he could thread the sterilized needle through the undamaged bits along either side of the slash, Faye began to recount her day and where it all went wrong...

@febuwhump prompt: "I'm doing this because I care about you."

***

"Your father thinks I've lost my mind. He thinks I'm out of line with what I'm doing here... With what I'm letting them try... He's argued himself hoarse about how this is disrespectful to your life, how we aren't being fair to your memory or to our own grief... How we need to just let you go... To bury you and move on... He's trapped in the idea that what happened means you're dead. I love him, but he's just... Wrong. He's so afraid to hope... So afraid to let science give you a chance to breathe again. He thinks it's cruel, what I've consigned you to. Am I mad? I don't feel like it. I don't feel... consumed... or, or, driven... or like I'm spitting in the face of some heartless god. What god would give us you only to rip you away in the dawn of your adult life? You are so young, my darling. You still have your entire life ahead of you, a future impossibly bright to greet with your inexhaustible optimism. You've always been tough and stubborn and brilliant, my child. You deserve to have a shot at making a beautiful life for yourself. I fear this may destroy us, what I am committing to today. But the accident already wrecked us, truthfully. At least this way... Maybe someday... They say you can't hear me, that you won't know I've been here this entire time, desperate to see your eyes open... I don't care how long it takes or how much it costs us. I'll gladly drain our savings. I just wanted you to know... I'm not doing this because I'm crazy. It's not because I have lost sight of reality or have abandoned myself to fantasy - it's not any of the nonsense your father has shouted at me in this very room. I'm doing this because I care about you. Beyond all rhyme or reason. Beyond anything I've ever felt for anyone. I knew when you were born that I'd move heaven and earth for you, my sweet child. So I am pouring everything possible into this desperate chance that you can be revived someday. I love you, Faye, so much. I swear you will get your chance to live."