It Comes And It Goes Like The Strength In Your Bones - Tumblr Posts

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.