When the Bebop Crew Got Cancer

A Morbid Ficlet by Jayni

"Faye-faye has to rest up now!! Doctor's orders!!" Ed squealed while she fluffed pillows and tucked a sheet over a not-plussed Faye Valentine. The girl was careful not to cover the mic over her trachea - the one they had to have installed when Faye's real voice box dropped out of commission with the cancer.

"Dammit, I'm not tired - I just want a damn cigarette," the elder woman winced at the sound of her own voice. Even with technology far surpassing that of her youth, they still hadn't figured out how to make a mechanical voice box sound less... mechanical. Had someone told her when she was little that she would be frozen, wake up a gazillion years later only to find out they hadn't found a replacement for nicotine in cancer sticks - and had she not taken heed of this she would have a mentally retarded teenager as a nursemaid... *This* is what they should've shown in all those damn "Anti-drug" commercials.

"Oh the *QUEEN* wants a cigarette!" came a hoarse voice from the next bed over. Spike had about a few months left before the cancer took his vocal chords, but until then - he could taunt Faye till his last natural word. It was rough since he only had a third of a lung to do it with... he'd lost as many of his guts to cancer as he had to gunshot and sword wounds. He took a gasping breath to refill the little lung he had, "You hear that Jet? Wanna call the cabana boys for her?"

Ed airplaned her way over two beds from Faye's to examine the suspiciously quiet Jet. A yapping genius dog followed her wake and jumped up on his hind legs to join the inspection. The 'nurse' so medically diagnosed that Jet was sleeping - after jabbing her finger repeatedly against his temple until he woke up. "Jet Jet! I thought you were dead dead!"

"No no... there's no such god in heaven - that's Spike's MO..." there was a whooping cough of disagreement in the next bed, followed by a mechanical laugh further down. Oddly, cigarettes did the least damage to Jet - partially because he'd had too many parts replaced with cybernetic parts from having to swing in and save Spike's ass from total annihilation, or Faye from debt-collectors. What wasn't spared, however, were his kidneys and liver from all the drinking he did to ... ease his mind.

Ed, with her infinite grace, switched Jet's full catheter bag with a new fresh one - tied it off and swung it around over head like a sack of potatoes. "Jet-person filled up another one! Would Jet-person like some juicey-juice to start on the next?"

Faye looked at Spike, and Spike looked at Faye, and they both looked at the bag that was precariously swinging over Ed's head. They helpless sunk further back into their beds and crossed their fingers.

"What I need is some scotch."

"What you need is some juicey juice!" And without further ado, Ed skipped merrily out of the room with a bag of piss on her shoulder. "We're off to get some juice! Some juicey juice for Jet jet!" The patients winced and covered their ears as the makeshift song continued and echoed through the halls of the tin can formerly known as Bebop.

"What was that about gods in heaven, Jet?" Spike ventured out of the corner of his mouth.

"There are none." Jet's former friends in arms nodded in agreement.

And they lived cancerly ever after - the end.