If you should die before me, ask if you could bring a friend.
She should never have gone back to him.
She should have killed him herself.
But at the time…
She didn't want him to die alone.
How ironic. The story of her life.
She should have killed him herself when she had the chance, but now she'd die knowing someone else was going to get that satisfaction.
She glanced backwards to where Spike was lying on the stones. Drowning in his own blood, she hoped.
He didn't deserve any better.
When he raised his head to meet her gaze, she turned away. If she looked into his eyes she'd feel sorry for him.
She wasn't even ready to acknowledge him yet.
When she was sure his eyes were closed, she sneaked a glance back. He really was in a bad way. Blood everywhere. She supposed it was from other injuries as well as the deep sword wound in his stomach. Spike never could take care of himself. He probably wouldn't last for much longer without medical assistance.
Not that it would make any difference now.
While she glared at his prostrate body, he said, "You shouldn't have come."
His voice was thin and weak, and it made Faye cringe. Spike wasn't weak. Spike was anything but weak.
How the mighty had fallen.
He was still watching her quietly, and it unnerved her. She turned away, curling her arms around the metal bars.
She was used to seeing cells from the outside, turning in bounties. She'd never actually experienced it herself even though she deserved too.
But it wasn't her, this time. And there was that irony thing again. Faye could have laughed. It was just fucking typical that she was going to get done over because of someone else.
If there was a God, then Faye thought he was an asshole.
Spike probably didn't even know where he was. Faye couldn't really be bothered enlightening him. Not that she knew any better.
All she knew was that there was no hope.
When we don't know who to hate, we hate ourselves.
Spike drifted in and out of consciousness; pain eventually winning out over delirium and keeping him awake.
He had no fucking idea where he was beyond being in a cell. With Faye.
He thought he'd been killed. And that had been the plan, originally.
But… being alive was generally a step up from being dead, and Spike was trying to stay optimistic.
There was a large patch of memory that he was missing; between walking down those steps and waking up on the floor. Something important had probably occurred between the two points…
In which Faye had arrived. She hadn't wanted him to leave the Bebop because she was selfish. But that lead to the question of why she was there.
In the discreet looks she occasionally shot him, between picking at threads on her red wrap and tracing patterns on the stones, Spike gathered that she was as lost as he was.
The developing bruise on her cheek didn't suit her; it made her face look more pallid than usual.
He'd never seen Faye even remotely injured before. It was a strange time for beginnings, though.
She must have come to "rescue" him.
Incredible. Faye had never learnt how to mind her own damn business. She couldn't expect him to apologise for her getting involved in his mess.
If it even was his mess.
No man can lose what he never had.
Time had passed.
Faye had lost track of how long they'd been in the cell. It couldn't have been too many; definitely less than a day.
Curling her arms around herself, she crossed the cell and sat beside her companion.
Why be angry with the last person you'll ever see?
As Spike turned his head towards her, she reached over and gingerly wiped away the blood on his chin.
"Where are we?" His voice was a rasp.
Faye shrugged, her hands helplessly drooping over her knees.
She couldn't tell him that Jet was dead. That the Bebop had been destroyed.
She just looked away.
Spike struggled to get into a seated position. Faye was normally good at escaping; he didn't know what was holding her back. She didn't give two shits about him; she could've at anytime just left him here and escaped. He was hardly in a position to stop her.
She wasn't wearing shoes, he noticed. The weighted metal thing she usually wore on her right ankle was missing, too. And her headband. And anything else that might have aided an escape.
Which explained why she was still there. And why she was looking so devoid of hope.
They probably took her cigarettes, too, and that was a damn shame. If he was going to bleed to death he might as well have some cigarettes to enjoy himself.
He wondered who had hit her.
He wondered why he was still alive.
The one you love and the one who loves you are never, ever the same person.
She wasn't ready to die. She deserved to live a long life. A normal life. She wanted children and grandchildren and a home to go back to.
She had planned to go straight after this. One last act of redemption, then she was going to start again. Get a real job. Buy a house. Find a man and get married. Like normal people did.
Life had fucked her around enough; so she'd thought. Apparently it wasn't done with her yet.
"You should've known better," she muttered to herself. "Good deeds never get repaid-"
"Is that why you went to save me?" Spike, even in pain, could still pull off a scornful expression. "To save yourself?"
"I wasn't talking to you."
"There's no one else here, Faye."
But Faye knew she'd have to say something eventually. "I wanted to save you from you, Spike. I just didn't want you to die. Okay? Satisfied?"
Honesty didn't mean jack shit when you were dead.
Some people didn't deserve to die; Spike didn't. She knew that somewhere deep in his twisted heart he actually liked being alive. If only to complain and hate it, maybe.
Spike watched her hands clenching and relaxing. She was so high strung; all nerves and twitches and unsaid words. "I need a cigarette." He said.
"They took them," Faye rolled her eyes. "with everything else."
"Who is 'they', exactly?" Spike asked again.
Faye snorted. "Red Dragon, who knows? They don't all have name-tags showing who they work for, and I didn't get the opportunity to ask."
Spike closed his eyes. "Does Jet know where we are?"
He heard Faye's sigh. "He knew I was going." She said, lowering her head until it was resting on her knees.
Jet had known. They'd had a terrific fight over it, too. Jet was ready to let Spike out of his life forever; he wanted nothing to do with it. It was only after Faye used every piece of blackmail against him that he agreed to just drop her off near that massive staircase outside the Red Dragon buildings.
And whatever happened after that… happened. Faye hadn't thought that far ahead.
Not like it would've made any difference. There were ships, tanks, armed men everywhere. It was probably at about that point where Faye realised she should've agreed with Jet.
But the Bebop was shot down before she had a chance to let him know. The massive explosion of the ship crashing into a nearby building guaranteed that there was no chance of survival.
Jet was dead.
It really was her fault. Jet had been right, and as usual, she'd been so fucking foolish.
But she'd kept on, determined to find him even though she didn't know what would happen when she did.
Spike had flopped over face down; passed out on that staircase, blood pooling neatly beneath him and trickling down each step.
He always did mortally wounded with so much style. It was ridiculous.
She was half-tempted to just leave him there, but her half-buried conscience gave her a kick in the heart.
So she stayed.
Only for a moment.
It didn't matter because an instant later there were guns pressed against her head and she was being told to stand up.
And she knew, right there, that they were fucked.
We will be remembered more for what we destroy than what we create.
"How'd you get that?"
Faye seemed to shrink under his unconcealed scrutiny. His eyes unnerved her like nothing else.
His clammy hand reached out and tapped her cheekbone and she cringed. "You run into a wall or something?"
"Come on, Spike. I don't go down easy." Faye replied in the same offhand tone.
Actually, some of the guards had been a little overenthusiastic searching her for weapons. She still thought that her vehement protest was justified.
Spike's raised eyebrow told her he didn't buy it. He shifted about a bit, trying to get comfortable against the stone wall and keep his guts from falling out at the same time.
It wasn't working.
With a sigh, Faye let her wrap slip off her shoulders, and gathered it in her hands.
Spike's expression battled between amusement and surprise as he watched Faye cover his wound, slipping the red wrap under his hand and letting the blood soak through.
Red on red.
"This is uncommonly generous of you, Faye," he remarked dryly, wincing as she pressed a little too hard.
"Don't get used to it," she retorted, her hands retreating back to her lap, where they curled together so tightly her knuckles went white.
She'd wasted her life. She'd never admitted it, even to herself, but there was nothing like certain death to give a fresh opinion.
She was a geriatric, for god's sake, but she'd only actually been alive for three fucking years. The rest was like a storybook; they weren't memories she could taste and touch like she should have.
Life was meant to be enjoyed. Pity she missed out on most of it.
For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, 'It might have been.'
Spike was watching her again. He was too deprived of blood and nicotine to be too anxious, but Faye was troubled enough for the both of them.
Her eyes darted sideways before focusing on him.
He was always bad at this emotional crap. "You're tired. Get some rest, or something." He offered his nearest shoulder and added, "I'll keep watch."
Faye rolled her eyes towards the ceiling, but a tiny smile crept onto her face. "That's uncommonly generous of you, Spike," she replied in wry amusement.
However, she shuffled over and rested her head against the offered shoulder for comfort, not rest.
Whenever she shut her eyes, the violent explosions of the Bebop sprung to mind and it hurt too much to think about.
"If life was a road," Faye mused, mostly to herself, "then my car broke down."
"They're going to kill us, down here," she mumbled into his leather sleeve. "We're just another mess to be cleaned up."
She'd almost broken down, supported by two guards moving through dim corridors. She'd screamed and fought and scratched and demanded where she was going.
The guard had answered exactly that.
"They're cleaning up the mess." Faye recounted sourly. "Nothing personal."
Spike lifted his head and stared at the ceiling. "Sounds like something the intergalactic police would come up with." He shrugged.
What difference did it make anyways? A bullet was still a bullet, no matter who fired it.
Faye buried her face into his sleeve. "Since this is it, should we say something?"
She hated that he was always so fucking calm.
"I don't know. How about 'I'm glad you're here with me Faye, so I won't die alone'?" She gave a dry chuckle. "Jet's dead."
Spike was silent.
"They shot down the Bebop when I was looking for you." Faye continued. "He didn't want to come back for you but I insisted. No one should die alone but he did. And it was my fault."
She wasn't going to cry, not now. She could handle anything except his contempt.
Instead of yelling at her, he reached over and touched her chin, tugging her face to meet his.
She raised her head in surprise. He was looking down at her, and there were no lies on his face.
"Thanks for coming, Faye."
The surprise that flooded her eyes, and the small smile forming on her lips gave Spike more satisfaction than he ever expected.
The cell door rattled loudly as it opened. The pair moved apart, although neither had time to get far before two uniformed guards stepped in.
Faye's eyes were wide, but they held no fear as the nearest one drew a pistol and shot her through the heart.
Spike glanced down at her body, and back up to the guard. "Well-" he began, but the next bullet went through his own heart.
Set straight after episode 26, if you didn't notice. Quotes are from various places. And yes, it's meant to be left unexplained.
Disclaimer goes here.
Sorry, guys, but I couldn't make this one into a happy ending. Hope you enjoyed. Review. Yay. Love everywhere.