Storybook Ending belongs rightfully to SIN Productions © 2005. Plagiarism is illegal and is considered a crime. Cowboy Bebop is © Sunrise, Inc. All rights reserved. Comments and criticism are welcome. Rated PG-13 for adult language and dark themes.
The final thoughts from Faye, concluding the storybook ending of the series.
And so he was dead.
She didn't need the facts, she didn't need such petty confirmation. It had been written on his face when he had left the Bebop only a few hours before. And suddenly those dreary hours had seemed like days...
She didn't need to hear the heart-shattering words Jet would eventually tell her. In fact she didn't need this, period.
What she needed was one more bullet, one more minute, a chance to travel back in time and aim her pistol at his leg, his arm, his shoulder, anywhere that would've prevented him from leaving. Instead of stupidly shooting up at the ceiling, at nothing.
And those metallic bullet holes in the walls were a constant reminder she had failed to make a difference.
He had left; and when he had climbed into that hunk of junk known as the Swordfish she knew he was already dead. Because it was her name fresh on his lips, not Faye's. He died for his revenge, he died for his love of her.
Damn that woman.
The Bebop felt colder than usual. Like the ship itself was mourning the sudden loss.
The loss of what? A simple cowboy, a savage bounty hunter?
A friend, was Spike even a friend? Could she even call him that? When times were hard nobody came through for her, except herself. That's how it was ever since the moment she awoke in the strange predicament that evolved into her life.
A friend, she sneered- please.
When Vicious had held her captive, Spike only showed up for the blood- the blood between the syndicate member and himself.
Even that day she had seen death in Spike's eyes.
But that day was different, that day she had saved him, and unknowingly managed to bring Spike Spiegel back from the dead. Whether he liked it, or not.
And this time she had been powerless. She was solitary against a hurricane, with no way to stop it. Leaving her only option to accept it, cut your losses, and rebuild from start.
That damn woman.
In the end it had been Spike's choice, a simple choice: Life or death. Faye or Julia.
And that was the storybook's final page, the closing words in the last chapter of his life. He lived and died for Julia, a cold woman who could manipulate men with a deadly song of innocence. An angel of death that's what she was. It was her own misgivings that dealt out the reaper to Spike, and even Vicious.
Spike had the nerve and the gall to leave Jet behind, with no answers just questions. He had abandoned the Bebop like it was nothing. No memories, no solace, just something he could push aside. What kind of man was he? He had responsibilities but he chose selfishly to...to...to...
Faye balled up her fist, shaking with pent up emotions. She let out a gasp of anguish and... let go of the last string of her dignity.
It was no use to hide her tears now.
And so she cried. She cried freely and let the hot, angry tears burn their trails down her cheeks.
Opening her eyes she took in the sight of the open range of the space cowboy. Aboard the Bebop's viewing room the stars glittered in the magnificent night-sky, like a Casino, she miserably thought.
Suddenly the thought of gambling made her sick to her stomach.
Besides from space it was always night, always shrouded in darkness.
As she stared out the window, a deep male voice cleared his throat behind her and Faye whirled around, her deep violet locks flying with her.
There was a prominent frown on Jet's darkened features and she assumed seeing her in such a distraught state didn't help.
"Nice view?" He seemed to fumble for words. Thankfully he didn't mention the unmentionable.
But she did.
Turning her back on him, she wiped at her tears. Too overwhelmed to be embarrassed, for now. "Did you know he was a fucking hypocrite? A really bad one at that."
It took a long, unsettling moment for Jet to reply, "Yeah he was, wasn't he?"
Faye didn't answer. She simply pulled out a cigarette and a lighter from her pocket and lit it. Taking a long drag she exhaled the smoke in a long, shaky breath.
"So..." Jet fidgeted before he slumped visibly, "A new bounty was just announced. All over the Martian news. Ten million woolongs."
She took another hit off the cigarette.
He continued, "His name is Fernando-"
"Jet forget it. Just forget it." She was softening. And he knew.
She hated it.
He raised his eyebrows, clearly surprised. "Just forget bounty hunting?"
She sounded defeated, "Let's just let this bastard get away. I-" she quickly finished in a softer voice, "I need a day. Maybe two."
"Yeah." She finalized, "For Spike?"
He nodded, understanding. "For Spike." He agreed and she heard the door close behind him.
When she was once again by herself she reached out and touched the cool glass. With fresh tears she lamented, "Why Spike? Why'd you leave me all alone again, huh? You fucking bastard."
If only she had one more bullet, one more minute, a chance to travel back in time...
She'd shoot him in the head and kill him herself.