A/N: I actually started this a long time ago, and I actually had much different intentions for it. I had planned on it being more intimate, but looking back, I just can't see it yet. Probably because I don't feel comfortable enough with Spike as a character to write him being intimate and IC. Anyway, this short scene is based on the following image. kajouka(dot)net/fs03.jpg (you'll have to copy and paste and fix the (dot). FF doesn't seem to like links).

It's short, mainly because I have a difficult time writing by myself. It's something I need to work on more anyway, so I decided to at least attempt to finish this.


One Little Moment


I'm not sure when I realized I loved him. I think it just happened one day. Watching him sleep on the yellow couch, he looked so at peace, as though he was lost in the dream he'd spent so long looking for. And when I realized that I wanted that dream to be me, that I wanted to be the one he was holding in his sleep – it was then that I discovered just how much he meant to me.

Was it because he was the perfect gentleman who'd make the perfect husband? Hardly. Just thinking about the word husband in conjunction with Spike brought a small laugh to my throat. Spike was hardly marriage material. Then again, neither was I. And Spike was hardly a gentleman – his brash nature and rude comments often left me pissed off, storming down the hall with my arms waving in the air as I ranted and raved about how much of a jackass he could be.

As far as Spike was concerned, I was just a thorn in his side, one that never seemed to go away. But to me, those thorns were a wall of protection, the way a rose bush protects its fresh blossoms from being devoured before they had a chance to bloom. My heart was my blossom, and my thorns had fought so hard to keep him away. I could even picture myself as a bush, thorns covering my arms and legs while the small flower of my heart tried so desperately to bloom.

Even now, on the eve of my realization, I knew my thorns would not go away. They would continue to keep him at a distance. Hell, as far as I knew, he wanted it that way, so I wasn't hurting anything by continuing on with my current sharp attitude. I didn't want to love him, and I certainly didn't want him to know the possibility that perhaps my feelings for him were stronger than the mere irritated friend I tended to act like.

And I would keep it that way – feelings locked away tightly in a box that would never open because the key was kept by one who would never use it. I was fine with that, or so I often told myself. Perhaps that was a lie, but it was one I'd tell myself forever.


The sun was dipping just below the pink and red spattered horizon of Mars as Faye's zip craft flew low over the burnt red soil beneath her. Ahead of her, the swordfish II carved out a path through the sky, white tails leaving a clear trail of where the craft had been only moments before. The pair was on the outskirts of Tharsis City, a place that held memories for them both, and Faye was sure that had Jet not insisted on catching the bounty that had run here, they wouldn't have come back.

Faye reclined on her bed, flipping through the pages of a boring magazine. Boring, because it contained mainly clothing she could never afford or would never be caught dead in. Frustrated, she tossed the magazine across the room and flopped on her back. Lately, she'd been so confused. Spike was mainly her comrade, sometimes a partner, occasionally a friend, and nothing more. And yet, she found herself stealing glances at him, a strange feeling of desire burning in her chest that she couldn't explain. Or she didn't want to explain – explanations meant acknowledgements, and Faye didn't want to acknowledge the possibility that she was falling for Spike.

Her eyes traced the lines on her ceiling, while her mind fought to push away the concept that Spike might mean more to her than she wanted him to. That when he'd gone to face Mad Perriot, the crazy assassin who should have killed him, she'd feared for his life. Standing in the hallway that day and watching him leave, she argued with herself back and forth, finally deciding that she'd go after him. She told herself she was doing it because he was a friend – but Faye knew herself well enough to know she wouldn't have risked her life for just a friend.

Was that it then? Was that when she'd realized that Spike meant something more to her. Faye rolled over onto her side.


Faye rolled her head towards the door. There he was, leaning against her doorway with his hands in his pockets and that nonchalant expression on his face that was so characteristic of him. Her eyes took in everything, from top of his fuzzy mop of hair to the tip of his extra large shoes. She cursed him under her breath for looking so damn good, and she cursed herself for even thinking he looked good. The last thing she wanted was to morph into some Spike-loving fool. And she would have to be a fool to love Spike.



Faye rolled her eyes. "Why?" She was curious, not that she wanted to admit that fact to Spike. Or herself. She didn't want to be curious.

"Because," Spike replied, before disappearing from her doorway.

Faye pushed herself off the bed and huffed. She shouldn't be following him. She shouldn't care. And yet, she found her feet were taking her down the hallway and into the hanger.


Faye had no idea where they were going. And she had no idea why she was going. Following Spike for no other reason than because he asked wasn't like her, and asking wasn't like him.

They passed through the air shield that marked the boundary of Tharsis city, and Spike guided his zip towards the outskirts of the town. Faye followed along behind, raising an eyebrow as he landed just outside a group of stone homes with thatched roofs. Why the hell would he come to a place like this? And why the hell would he bring her? Faye set down next to Spike and popped open the door to her craft. Sliding out, she glanced over to where he'd landed, but he was already out of the pod and walking away. Frustrated, Faye trotted after him, slowing down only when she was at his side.

"What the hell, Spike?" She asked, half curious, half-irritated.

Spike didn't answer. He stopped in front of one of the open entryways, and placed a hand on the stone-wall. Faye watched, as he looked inside, then jumped down into the shadows below.

Faye stepped forward, and glanced down into the darkness. She could barely make out the outline of his tall lanky body below her. "Spike?" This was bullshit. If he was going to drag her out into the middle of no where, he'd better have an explanation. Her hands rested on her hips in an almost exaggerated motion of irritation as she stared down at him. "Where the hell are we?"

The sun had set, and only a faint glow from the west could be seen on the horizon. Spike turned around slowly to face her; and Faye could barely make out his facial expression in the fading light that seeped through the cracks of the thatched roof. His posture sagged a bit, and he stuck his hands in his pockets, before his eyes finally finished their sweep of the room and met with hers.

"I grew up here."

Faye blinked as her hands fell from her waist down to her side. She had no idea how to respond – his bringing her to a place that meant something to him was beyond her comprehension. Hell, he bringing her any place was so out of character for him, she supposed this most recent statement was only icing on the proverbial cake. Instead, she responded with silence and a strange stare crossed with confusion and curiosity.

Faye watched as Spike turned back around and sat down on the pile of stones that spilled into the room. Sighing softly, she leaned over, and resting one hand on the ground for balance, slid down into the room. The darkness consumed her for a moment, until she turned back towards the entryway. She watched as Spike stuck a cigarette in his mouth, then fumbled around in his pockets for a lighter. Slowly, she stepped forward easing herself down to sit in front of him. "Looking for this?" she said, pulling a lighter out of pocket and holding it up behind her.

She glanced over her shoulder in time to see Spike nod and flicked the lighter on in response. The small orange flame cast an eerie glow over the pair, as Spike's hand cupped the flame. Faye watched as Spike leaned over. She could feel his knee touching her back shoulder. She could smell … him….

Faye lit her own cigarette and leaned back against Spike's leg. The position was unfamiliar and yet oddly fitting. He didn't protest, and she made no issue of it. Together, they sat in the dark with only the silence to envelop them and the cherry of their cigarettes to provide any sort of light. And when her cigarette reached the filter, she flicked it away, watching as his followed closely behind her. She felt him lean forward, and rest his arms across her shoulders. Her whole body responded to his as small shivers traveled from where his skin touched hers, down her spine and back.

"I never liked living here," Spike finally said.

Faye glanced back over her shoulder. "Then why did we come here?" Or why did you bring me here, she thought to herself.

"I guess I just wanted to see if it had changed." Spike replied, a touch of humor on his voice. The whole place was falling apart, and it was obvious to Faye that no one lived here anymore. That the whole place had changed. And he hadn't really answered her question. Faye didn't bother repeating it. Spike had always been cryptic in his answers, and she'd never get the one she really wanted.

They sat there a moment longer, then Spike stood and stretched. He stepped around Faye with his hands in his pockets, examining the small structure now that his eyes had adjusted to the light. Faye watched from her seat, still unsure why he'd brought her here, or why he'd felt the need to come at all. She could still feel the touch of his arms across her shoulders, and she knew that if they stayed any longer she was going to do something stupid, or say something she'd later regret. "Well, if we're not here for a reason, I think I'll head back to the bebop," she said nonchalantly, forcing her voice to come out flat and even.

She pushed herself up off the pile of rocks, but before she could lift herself back up over the edge, Spike had moved closer, and she could feel his presence behind her. Turning slowly, she faced him and suddenly she realized she wanted him. She wanted him to hold her and kiss her and share his life with her the way he'd shared this small bit of his past. As she stood there, she almost reached out for him; almost wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close enough to kiss him. . Time almost froze just then. A thousands ways to tell him how she felt rushed through her head in that instant. She opened her mouth to speak, to let the words tumble out, but nothing came. Her tongue was as frozen as time, her voice as silent as space, her body as motionless as calm sea.

Then, he was past her, already lifting himself up over the edge and heading back to his ship. He hadn't even bothered to wait for her, or help her out of the whole. Sighing, she reached up and lifted herself over the edge, swinging one leg up first than the other. Pulling herself to her feet, she watched as Spike climbed into his zip craft. It was like he'd forgotten she was even there. She should have figured he'd do something like that. She shook her head slightly, already feeling foolish that she'd bothered to come with him all, much less that she'd thought it might actually mean something to him.

She headed over to her own zip craft and took off, following him back to the bebop.


And that was it. Just that one little moment where I could have told him everything and didn't. I think I only had the chance to do so one other time, but I couldn't do it then either. I didn't want him to know how I felt. It's a secret I'll take with me to my grave, since he's already found his.