Animal Trap / Captivity / No One Will Find You (all The Lights Going Dark And My Hopes Destroyed)

animal trap / captivity / no one will find you (all the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed)

Pain.

Confusion.

The horror of being alone when once there were many.

Where were his siblings? The absence of their presence was felt in the cold air pressing in on his sides where once other squirming bodies squished him in from not just the sides but often above and below as well.

Where was his mother? Her soothing scent, the warmth of her fur, the reassuring noises of her body that had loomed so large in his existence for the entirety of it thus far.

The solitude was terrifying. Never had he been apart from his family. Even after his eyes had begun to open and he and his siblings started to tumble around one another in games of play, he'd never been out of sight of the rest of his family. Barking, licking, biting, wiggling, jumping, learning how to walk on wobbly legs... drinking milk from mother until they all passed out into the most blissful and comfortable slumber.

There had come a day when mother had decided they were old enough to venture out of the cardboard box that had been their home since his birth. She led them from the torn up newspaper bedding and it had been exciting yet scary. The sky was so far overhead it wasn't even a concept he grasped. The ground underfoot was laden with smells and so too was each and every building they passed! And then people! Giants roamed the streets and took no care of where they put their hard-bottom paws. He yipped when his paw was nearly stepped on but the human paid no mind. He hadn't realized how good they had it at the time. Being beneath notice was better than being observed, as he was beginning to realize.

There had been some sort of cage... his memories of this were vague. Distress was the most prominent part. An animal trap that he had not known was a trap at all. But how would he have known? How did he know that now? His head ached with all the thoughts racing through it. Connections being made, pathways being forged.

A whine escaped him. He hadn't even known to enjoy freedom before it was taken away and replaced with captivity.

The room he was in now stank of chemicals and other scientific human scents. He was one of the few things that smelled natural. There were a handful of other creatures. Things he could not have put a name to as a puppy but which he could now identify on sight and scent and sound. A giant tank filled with water held an octopus. A cage near the ceiling with a faux branch within it held a squirrel and he instinctively wanted to chase the frightened animal as it huddled near the top of its enclosure. Other cages, other creatures. A pig, a raven, a raccoon, several rats, a parrot that kept saying "fuck you" to the men and women in lab coats as they came into the room and performed tests. Even a cow, or a calf at any rate.

None of the other animals seemed any more certain of what was going on than he was. None of them seemed at all content with their current lot in life.

He whined unhappily again and one of the lab techs kicked at his cage in irritation. "Shaddup, mutt! No one wants to hear you! You pathetic little-"

"Don't be cruel, Elon. And you're wrong anyway - hearing him speak would be incredible! Just imagine if the process works... if we're able to figure out how to communicate with these creatures..." Another white-coat individual spoke then.

A snort from the first. "Oh yeah I'm sure they'll have amazing things to say. We'll be lucky if they don't go mad like the last batch. At least the group beforehand didn't go into a frenzy - I'm still not positive it was wise to just release those dumb bastards but I guess why keep beating a dead horse... just a whole herd of ignoramuses."

A third scientist chimed in. "Wouldn't their being able to talk get us in trouble? I can't imagine they're happy here. They don't look happy..."

The first laughed darkly. "You're right about that. But we don't have to worry here. Hear me, all you ugly beasties? No one will find you here! You're our playthings to study. You're all supposedly some of the most clever creatures in existence... well, we'll see about that."

"Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!" Screamed the parrot.

The second scientist sighed. "We had the most hope for you, Sam. Your species can already speak words if taught."

The first rattled the cage of the parrot while baring his teeth in a parody of a grin. "Keep it up, you bird bastard. We don't need you alive - we can glean all sorts of information from dissecting your brain."

And so the days went. Only now he was able to easily determine the passage of time. He didn't need to rely on scents fading over time, he was somehow more attuned with the numbers on the clock in the room. And that wasn't the only thing he was able to comprehend. They put screens in front of him and played videos and then put devices in front of him and let him work out what they did - if anything. He was able to match shapes and could recall images he'd seen on the display and more. He watched the raven and the cow play chess. He watched the rats work their way through complicated mazes. He watched the pig demonstrate its memory of how a mirror functioned. He watched the raccoon use its clever hands to access the computer system when the humans weren't paying close enough attention.

He watched the parrot get its neck broken by the cruelest of the scientists, though the others didn't seem perturbed by its sad fate.

That night he felt fear coiling in his belly. The parrot had been the most outspoken of them all but his courage in the face of the antics of the humans had buoyed his spirits that entire time.

all the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed

Their lives were forfeit if they couldn't - or wouldn't - produce the results the human scientists demanded. They might be destined for death regardless. They could not possibly stay here. But how to escape? He had no idea where they were... how many rooms were outside of theirs? How many levels to this building? Perhaps the racoon knew... it had had a chance to study the schematics of where they were. And the door... could it hold up to a solid kick from the cow?

He felt a brief pang of sorrow for the octopus. Even if the rest of them were able to break free, there would be no hope for it.

Unless outside forces were involved. Individuals with the proper gear to transport an aquatic creature to its rightful home.

They didn't have much of a chance stuck in this room by themselves, trapped within their cages except when they were taken out for testing and injections. But perhaps the racoon could get word out somehow. If some animal rights agency learned of these atrocities...

He got to his paws in the darkness and barked. Some of the others might be sleeping but he knew the racoon kept the nocturnal hours of his species. It was time to see exactly what the other animal knew and could possibly do. Their captivity was going to come to an end, on their terms.

cold compress / infection / I don't feel so good (it comes and it goes like the strength in your bones)

He wondered how long she could have made it if he hadn't thought to check in on her.

Her casual and typically unannounced departures had made the others accustomed to not seeing her for days without feeling a shred of concern. He had tried to portray the same insouciance but there was something telling about the half-smirk Jet sometimes wore and the amused cackle that Ed made when she'd catch his eyes absentmindedly following Faye's movements on the ship.

Usually it was every man or woman or dog for themselves on the Bebop except whenever a top dollar bounty was in the mix. Everyone came and went at their own pace and without answering to anyone else since no one bothered to make inquiries anyway.

But the Brain Scratch incident was fresh in his mind. Seeing her sprawled insensate on the cold ground of the abandoned building, a precarious tower of defunct televisions looming large over her small form. It was odd seeing Faye so helpless, so completely vulnerable. It had made his skin prickle and had made him irritable when talking with the figure on the screens. Even hearing that she was merely asleep was no comfort since Londes confided to having killed the other bounty hunters in the room by putting them into a never ending slumber.

The relief he'd felt when she began to stir and then sat up as if nothing had happened... He couldn't keep the smile off his face. And her own timid smile in response, the bashful way her gaze had dipped away from his own... It made his heart skip a beat. She'd run hot and cold with him lately, ever since getting back from Callisto - or possibly before even?

Her skittish behavior had doused the flame of arousal he'd felt for her - the attraction he'd finally begun to feel like he was justified in feeling. The insatiable desire to find answers about Julia had been extinguished by the hard truths he'd come to accept after facing Vicious again, and he was just beginning to think that perhaps he could love again. Perhaps he was at last free to pursue someone else, someone more willing to stand at his side against the odds and who'd have his back in life-or-death situations. Giving in to the chemistry that had existed between Faye and himself since originally meeting her across the card table had felt like the first step in taking back control of his own future.

But while he had been ready to tentatively move forward... she apparently was taking two steps back.

Curiosity burned in his mind. What had happened to her on Callisto to change her flirtatious ways? What made her stop teasing him and start to regard him as just another lost soul on a ship of fools?

Here, now was a chance to find out her reasoning.

He replaced the damp washcloth on her forehead and adjusted the cold compress he was holding to the shallow slash across her right hip. It wasn't a deep cut, thankfully, though stitches and an antibiotic would have been a wise move days ago. Too late now to avoid an infection. Jet had come running when Spike had called out to him, alarmed, when he'd gone to bang on the shower room door after Faye had taken far more time than even she normally did.

Her skin had been flushed with color, her eyes shining with a feverish light, and her entire body quaked as she answered the door in her robe. Steam had billowed out from the room and at first he'd attributed the pinkness of her face to the heat and humidity of the bathroom, but then she'd stumbled backwards and he'd moved instinctively to catch her.

Faye had hissed in pain when he brushed against her hip. Had lain resignedly in his embrace as if the effort of trying to regain her own footing was beyond her.

In a small voice, one that reminded him strongly of the young Faye in the betamax video, she spoke... not to him, but to the world. A child's helpless plea.

"I don't feel so good."

And then she'd become dead weight in his arms as her eyes fluttered shut. And then Jet had been there in answer to Spike's shout of summons.

Together they'd trundled her out to the living room and had Ed fetch one of her pajama tank tops and shorts to dress her in since they couldn't protect her modesty and also treat her wound if she was just wearing a robe.

Jet had pronounced the wound clean but infected and had liberally applied a healing ointment designed to reduce scarring as well as inflammation before he carefully stitched her up and then told Spike to take her to her room. While he himself tended to spend his convalescence periods laid up on the couch, it seemed likely that Faye would prefer the calm and darkness of her sleeping space.

He had lain her down on top of the blankets since her skin was hot to the touch and he figured the cool air would help to soothe her fever. Then Ed had shown up at the door with the damp washcloth and cold compress, offering both to Spike without any of her usual nonsensical rhymes and cheer. Thanking her for the items, Spike told her not to worry because Faye would be okay. And Ed, after staring for a long minute at Faye's unconscious form on the bed, took in a deep breath and nodded, then flashed him a smile full of confidence in his words.

For a while Faye had been deeply unconscious and resting peacefully despite how her body radiated heat. All too soon, though, she began to thrash and mumble despite Spike's ministrations. Her babbling seesawed from random words that seemed disconnected from one another to entire rambling monologues that made him shiver. It was impossible to say whether her speeches were truth or fiction, but he hoped they stemmed from things she'd seen in movies rather than experienced personally in life. A growing sense of ill ease in the pit of his stomach proved how little he believed in his own hopes.

But on the other hand, he could question her about her change in attitude and possibly be rewarded with the logic or motivation behind it. If he wanted to take advantage of her defenselessness. To exploit her illness, even if she was too out of it to be aware of what was happening or to remember any of this... the idea did not sit well with him.

Faye whimpered, whipping her head back and forth on the sweat-soaked pillow, and tried to twist her body away from the gentle pressure of the compress.

"Shh, shh, you're okay... er, you'll be okay. Jet got you all stitched up. We got some antibiotics starting to work on ya. Just take it easy, Faye..." Spike tried to cajole her into relaxing with his softest, kindest voice.

Her brow pinched together in confusion as she struggled to open her eyes. "A stitch in time, no, a wrinkle in time." She mumbled. Her eyes gleamed as they caught the light of the betamax player - which, while not currently playing a tape was the only source of light Spike had bothered to maintain in the room. She eyed him without seeming to recognize him. "Strange dreams, turbulent things, what agony can waking bring?"

Spike didn't recognize the poetry - if that's what it was - of her words. "What's that now?"

"Smoothed out, out of time and place and luck." Sounding more like Ed than herself, it was obvious that, despite regaining a semblance of consciousness, Faye remained disoriented. Whatever she meant was incomprehensible to him.

Still, it was good to hear her voice. "You'd be surprised how lucky you are," He told her in response. "Hopefully we caught this infection in time. Jet thinks the salve will save you from a scar too."

"It comes and it goes," She murmured then. "Like the strength in your bones. What imbues a soul with courage? What inspires a heart to love? What jargon leaves lips when you speak from that little place inside your chest? Break open, break free."

Spike gave a sort of snorting sigh as he took the washcloth from the bed where it had been dislodged when she shook her head earlier. "Jargon indeed." He muttered as he dipped the cloth in the bowl of ice water and gave it a twist to get most of the water removed. He tenderly placed it back on her forehead with his left hand while using his right hand to hold her chin in place.

"Ohh, bliss." She said then, blinking as if to clear her sight. "Spike?"

"Yeah, Faye?"

"...are you real?"

He chuckled and pressed both hands to her cheeks as he leaned over her to stare down into her befuddled eyes.

"I'm as real as you."

"I... don't feel real right now." She admitted. "I feel... hazy... like if I close my eyes I could drift off forever."

Her words spooked him though he kept his reaction from showing on his face. "Let's avoid that, hey?" He knew it was just the fever talking, but then again people had died from fevers before. "You stay here with me, okay? And I'll stay here with you."

Trembling lips made a ghost of a smile before turning down into an expression of discomfort. "I'm so warm."

Spike could feel just how overheated she was through the heat of her cheeks beneath his palms. "You may not like this idea... but I think it's the only way to get your temperature down. Hold tight to me, okay? I'm gonna dump ya in the tub." He eased his arms under her shoulders and under her knees and hoisted her into his arms with only one outcry from Faye as her wounded hip was tweaked.

"I don't wanna drown," She whined as he brought her back to the shower room where he'd first discovered she was ailing.

Delirium was evidently setting back in.

"Not gonna drown you, Faye." He assured her. "Hell, I'll even climb in the damn tub with you if that'll make you feel better."

"Sailors at sea, drowning in an ocean of love..." She replied, laughing hysterically at her own words.

He sighed. "No one is gonna drown, Faye." But he was glad she was still awake, still talking even if it was ridiculous things.

We Will Rock You

Heeled boots and the quieter cadence of Spike’s shoes announced the arrival of Jet’s partners to the hangar where he was currently hanging halfway out of the innards of the Swordfish II. A new pod would be expensive but not nearly as costly as all the other repairs both zipcraft needed. Between the beating that they’d taken while Spike and Faye were at the restaurants - and really, how could the pair of them manage to get their ships that fucked up in such a tranquil environment? - and the narrow escape they’d managed from the abandoned Linus Mine, it was honestly a wonder that either of them made it back at all.

One thing was certain - his reckless partners kept him busier than the rest of their bounty hunting jobs ever could. At least this type of necessary chore was one that offered a strong feeling of accomplishment when all was said and done. In that way it was sort of like cooking. You threw together a bunch of ingredients and got a delicious meal out of it. Here he was throwing together various parts and in the end his partners would have space-worthy vehicles again.

The fragrant aroma of cigarette smoke reached his nose and he inhaled deeply. Faye rolled her own and liked to add other herbs. Spike opted for menthol whenever he had a choice in the matter. The scents mingled together in a way that Jet found very appealing.

Deciding he could take a break from his inspection of Spike’s ship, he hauled himself out of the shell where the pod would sit once a replacement was found and dropped slowly to the ground below. The gravity was significantly reduced at the moment to aid him in maneuvering around the broken down ships.

Spike had flicked a lit cigarette in his direction before Jet had even reached the deck but his reaction time had always been top notch and he caught it between two fingers of his right hand and brought it to his lips to take a much-deserved drag.

“You two come to give me a hand here?” He asked after a few more drags before sending the cigarette back to Spike to finish.

Faye gave him a coy look as she floated over. Biting her lower lip, spliff held off to the side in her right hand, she glanced over her shoulder at Spike before turning back to Jet.

“You could say that…” She allowed. Placing the spliff between her own lips but with the ember facing her throat, she leaned closer and brought her face directly to his so her mouth lined up with his own.

Startled, he inhaled automatically which had of course been her intent. He’d seen her offer shotgun hits to Spike a time or two before, whenever they were tangled up in each other on the couch. Apparently, nursing Spike back to health after he’d gone in, guns blazing, to save her life had noticeably altered the relationship between the pair of them. It was something Jet had ignored for the most part since it didn’t really conflict with his life at all. As long as they had their head in the game when it came to chasing bounties, that was all that mattered.

Her hands had somehow gotten behind his head and scratched at his cheeks and chops as she drew them back towards her own body and released him from the odd method of sharing smoke. Coughing was unavoidable but he at least managed to turn to avoid doing it in her face.

Faye was smirking when he looked back at her and then Spike was moving closer as well.

“We really owe you one for all the shit you’ve done to keep our ships in one piece,” Spike noted.

“Don’t worry,” Jet interrupted with a sharp grin, “the cost of repairs and replacement parts is all coming out of your shares of the next few bounties.”

Rolling her eyes, Faye moved to hover just off to Jet’s left side. She reached out to trail her hands along his artificial arm, seemingly fascinated by the cool metal beneath her fingertips. “Of course it is.” She acknowledged. “But… well, we thought you deserved a little something extra…”

Trying to watch her out of the corner of his eye, he almost didn’t notice how close Spike had gotten until the other man was able to place a hand on Jet’s chest. It had been months since Spike had been this forward with him - it had always been a random thing in the past and happened less often after Faye joined the crew and what with their recent liaison together Jet had assumed that the other man was getting all the satisfaction he needed from her these days.

His breath caught in his throat at the inviting look Spike was giving him.

“Hope you don’t mind…” Faye was saying then. “If we have some ideas of how to… express our gratitude for all you do…”

“I… uhh…”

Spike let his hand drop lower on Jet’s body. “You can say no anytime, of course. But if you’re game for it… we will rock your world.”

Wings

He wasn’t expecting the wings.

Frankly he wasn’t expecting much of anything.

Infinite blackness perhaps. Pure nothingness. Maybe the fires of Hell if he was being whimsical.

But there were definitely wings spreading out from his shoulders where his arms ought to be. Not white wings of an angel, nor black wings of a devil… wings that shimmered in a million rainbow colors as if each feather were a prism with the light of the sun bleeding through.

He was out in the stars, no space suit to speak of. There was no temperature, no wind, no sound whatsoever. It was really quite peaceful.

It was just him, wings holding him aloft despite the absence of gravity. Just him and the stars stretching from here to who knew.

He ought to be curious. There were thousands of questions dancing about in the back of his mind but he couldn’t bring himself to truthfully care about the hows and the whys and the what next.

This was nice.

He hadn’t been so free in ages. He wanted to indulge in this feeling for a little while longer.

Eventually he’d grow bored and need to pursue some sort of explanation. Perhaps establish a goal of some type. But he figured there was plenty of time for that later. Maybe eternity even.

For now he was just going to be.

Just a man and his wings adrift in space and time.

Alone Together

It had been two weeks. The ship was as fixed as it was going to be with the funds they had on hand - long gone now, of course. The RedTail was still fucked. The Swordfish II, Bob had told them, was in an impound lot. The Hammerhead was their only way of getting around for the time being and Jet wasn’t keen on letting Faye utilize his ride.

So she lazed around the ship doing a fat lot of nothing. There wasn’t anything to do. Which suited her motivational level just fine. She could tuck herself away in a corner of the ship no one ever bothered with and cry her eyes out. She could nip into Spike’s room and thoroughly trash the place (after looting it of any ammunition, cigarettes, booze or anything else of value). She could take hours-long showers (at least until the water ran out, which had happened by day 6).

In retrospect, tearing out the pages of the books she’d unearthed in the shambles of Spike’s quarters had been a mistake. Boring though the tomes had likely been, it would have given her something to read as a distraction from her thoughts. When she was feeling especially inspired to do something she would wander there and pick up a page or two and try to decide what sort of story it had been a part of.

The food situation was dire. The water situation had been resolved to a degree - Jet had come back from one trip to town with a case of bottled water - but by this point Faye was feeling so grimy from the inability to wash up that she was half tempted to just go outside and scrub off with sand. She was reasonably sure that was how people did it in the desert.

At any rate, she had wallowed in grief for a while. Mourning for her past self… remorse for encouraging Ed to leave… and of course the sorrow that swept over her multiple times a day when she thought about Spike.

The heartache from each of these woes had not receded a bit. But she was starting to chafe at being left on her own. Having no mission, no job to do, no ability to assist with repairs and no money to throw at the problems to make them go away.

Jet had kindly ignored her since he first blew up on her for shooting up the interior of the ship. She hadn’t even minded - she was no fool, he had needed some way to vent the anger of Spike’s departure and demise. Besides, she’d been half-deaf at the time from firing a gun in such an enclosed space. So she’d let him rail at her and mumbled an apology when it seemed like he was winding down - the mere act of which threw him off so much that he’d simply gaped at her and then turned on his heel and left.

So he had been avoiding her ever since and she had been disinterested in entertaining company while so distraught and depressed. And now her eyes were sore from crying and her mind was kind of blank and she was ready for a distraction. Ready for something to focus on. A goal, perhaps. Anything to break up the monotony of these endless days of silence and anguish.

With a face no doubt ravaged by sadness, she gathered up a few necessary items and set herself up on the bridge to await Jet’s return from whatever shopping trip or bounty mission or just escape from here he’d been on.

The record player was scratching along soothingly by the time she heard his boots climbing up the ladder to her location. The tobacco she’d found underneath Spike’s mattress had been rolled up into a few pathetic looking cigarettes, no filters to be found. There was no booze - she’d guzzled that all away ten days ago.

There was just Faye, alone on the bridge.

There was just Jet, alone on the stairs as he hesitated about entering into her space.

“Well?” She called out to him then, sparking one of the harsh cigarettes. “We might be alone but we may as well be alone together.”

We Close Our Eyes

When we close our eyes to the things we do not wish to acknowledge, we close our eyes to more than just those things. We close our eyes to our own chance to grow. We close our eyes to the chance to change our minds. We close our eyes to a potential future path and thereby restrict ourselves from living a life we could have never imagined.

When we close our eyes we deny ourselves possibility. We do ourselves an injustice. We trap ourselves in the only reality we allow ourselves to perceive.

Spike had closed his eyes to the idea of any sort of happily ever after when he was left to flee Tharsis in the rain and alone. He claimed to see past in one eye and present in another, a poetic way to miss out on the fact that the future was not in his cards.

Jet had closed his eyes to the uncertainty and unhappiness that Alisa was plagued with in their life together. He could not see the problem and was therefore blindsided when she left.

Faye had closed her eyes to the existence of a whole self if she did not possess the memories of another place in time. She tripped herself up from embracing all that she could experience and enjoy within this world as who she awoke as.

Ed lived with eyes wide open. She wanted to see it all, do it all, go everywhere and meet everyone. She chose to crash ships into her life, to traipse amongst the stars, to follow strangers.

Ein, clever as he was, was also just a dog. His life was within his own control to as much of a degree as he ever really needed or desired. He didn't close his eyes to anything but he preferred to follow his nose. Food was life, after all, and what was life without food?