![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
On the Bebop
Jun. 30th, 2006 03:41 pm"If you could go anywhere in the solar system right now, where would it be?" He turns to look at Beth, sitting next to him in the Swordfish. They're just leaving Earth, fresh from Eleuthera and Doohan and Dallas. He thinks he knows what the answer might be, but he wants to hear it from her.
"Right now? Venus."
He's come in without notifying Jet. After all, why radio ahead for permission to land when he's just going to have to leave again? The guy's leg is all busted up; no need to make him get up. The Bebop's sitting in a crater anyhow. It's not going anywhere.
(blink blink)
He has to focus.
A few days earlier. Outside the Swordfish, on the beach in Eleuthera. Key goes up, key comes down. Up, down: he catches it, then turns to Beth who's tanned and gorgeous, glowing like an angel, like her hair's made of pure gold. "I can talk you through taking off from the water if you want to try it."
"I'll give it a try."
Like there was ever any doubt in her mind about trying it: he thinks that's my girl and hands her the key. She's a natural, good with the controls, and he only has to talk her through it. Not show her how; never that. She's so good at whatever she does.
Fuck. He misses her. He misses her so damn much he can hardly breathe. The habit he seems to have of finding women and then losing them... well, it's really starting to weigh heavy on him. There was a time when it might have pissed him off, but right now he's too damn sad about it for anger. He doesn't want Beth to be a ghost, just some dream: she's the fucking love of his life and no matter what, he has to see her again. He has to. He has to touch her, feel her heart beating against his, taste her lips on his, feel her arms holding him close. He needs to bask in her smile. He needs to feel the way his whole heart lights right the fuck up when she walks into the room with her "hey, bounty hunter" little more than a whisper just for him. Feel Junior in there kicking against him. He needs all that shit just once more, then once more after that, and one more time and one more until the years stretch by.
When he gets out of this, he's going to Venus. Maybe he'll find her there: New France, Galileo City. He can get Jet to hack into the Customs Control computer for each planet and moon, see if Browning, Marie, has made passage anywhere.
(blink, blink)
Yeah, right. She didn't have her passport on her that last time. Neither did he. The universe is real fucking kind that way: he's never going to find her again. Annie's dead, Julia's dead. He can't get back to Beth: there's nothing left. Not a damn thing worth living for. He guesses he might as well end it with a bang. Still, as he steps out of the Swordfish, he takes a deep breath before opening the hangar door: it worked one time. Bar. Let it be the bar, dammit.
Drip, drip, drip. Metal echoing against metal as the door grinds open. For all those times the Bebop's been a welcome sight... this sure as hell isn't one of them.
Taking the long way around, he stops by the kitchen and tests the pantry door. Nothing in there but some creature that scurries away into a far corner: that figures. Q: When is a pantry not a pantry? A: When it brings you to the end of the universe.
Not this time. Neither does the door to the shower or the door to his room or the door to his workshop. Makes him wonder if any of it ever really happened or if it was just some... amazing fucking dream. Before he can feel sorry for himself, though, he's in the main cabin where Jet's sleeping on the couch, leg bandaged up, fitful. Bullet wounds suck: it's one thing he knows intimately.
It's not long after he's there looking around the place like he's memorizing it that Jet wakes up. "Spike, you... you're back."
Hey, Mom. You look like hell. "You have anything to eat?" Jet gives him a look, relief mingled with confusion and surprise; it makes Spike smile. Just like old times, and that's one thing he's always appreciated about Jet: he never asks questions. Never asks for explanations. "I'm really starving."
With a little laugh, Jet pulls himself up off the couch, hobbles off to the kitchen. Watching him the whole time, Spike's smile doesn't fade until he's sure he's out of Jet's line of sight. Then he starts up the computer. He's not much of a hacker: in fact, he's terrible at it. But he's here and he has to try it; "Marie Browning" only gives him links to movies and pictures of Lauren Bacall and a couple personal web pages of women who have nothing to do with his Beth, and "Browning, Marie, Ransom, Phobos" doesn't turn up shit. And he can't hack into the Venus tourism or customs sites. He can't hack into the reservation system at the Edge of the World Bed & Breakfast on Europa either.
He really didn't think he'd be able to.
He's almost tempted to call his father, but then he hears noises in the hallway. Like a kid caught looking at his uncle's hidden porn collection, he shuts the computer quickly and sets it away just before Jet returns with a plate of bell peppers and beef. Thanks, Mom. I never said it, but you've been a hell of a partner. Nodding appreciatively as Jet sets down the plate, he picks up chopsticks to eat. Jet perches on the stairway, smoking, watching him. It's nothing but a moment, nothing but companionable silence that wants filling. So Spike obliges. "This food tastes terrible... as usual."
It makes Jet laugh. "Huh. For being so bad, you sure eat a lot of it."
"They say hunger is the best spice." It's true; both of them know it. Jet laughs again and there's nothing forced about it. Just laughing over a smoke. Yeah, the food's terrible, but it's also really fucking good: he hasn't eaten since that shrimp and rice at the bar with Beth. Setting down the chopsticks, plate empty (thanks, Jet, you're okay), he turns to watch Jet. "Ever heard this story?
Jet shoots him a look of surprise. "Huh?"
(And Faye always wonders where their eloquence comes from.)
It isn't often that Spike tells stories to anyone but Beth. The situation seems to call for one, though. And so what if it's a little on the metaphorical side? It might take his mind off things, help him make peace with what's going on. "There once was a tiger-striped cat. This cat died a million deaths, revived and lived a million lives and he was owned by various people who he didn't really care for. The cat wasn't afraid to die... Then one day, the cat became a stray cat, which meant he was was free. He met a white female cat, and the two of them spent their days together happily." He pauses: this is for you, Beth. This is for the future we can't have together on Venus. I'd do anything to make it come true. Any fucking thing at all. Taking a deep breath, he continues. "Well, years passed, and the white cat grew weak and died of old age. The tiger-striped cat cried a million times, and then he died too. Except this time, he didn't come back to life."
There's a moment of silence; Jet considers the tale. "Yeah, it's a good story." He closes his eyes: maybe he's visualizing it. Who the fuck knows and anyway, it doesn't matter.
Spike laughs, just a little bit. "I hate that story. I never liked cats, you know that." Beth's no cat, at least not like that. Besides, she's not dead and neither is he.
Not yet.
"Oh yeah, that's right." When Jet starts laughing, Spike laughs with him. Friends for him have always been hard to come by; Jet's a good one. Maybe the best. And he's never been good at thank yous or goodbyes, so he simply stands and moves toward the hallway.
"Hey Spike. I just want to ask you one thing."
"What's that?" After all this time, a straightforward question. Hell, he guesses there's a first time for everything. But he can't bring himself to look at Jet. Instead, he looks forward, to the corridor. Never been any good at goodbyes, dammit. I fucking hate them.
Jet's voice is soft. "Is it for the girl?"
"She's dead." That... well, that's for Julia.
Shit. "There's nothing I can do for her now." Can't do anything for anyone. Julia's dead and none of these doors are taking him back to Beth, if she's even there at the bar. He hopes like hell she is: for her sake, for Junior's sake.
Out here, there's nothing he can do for anyone except put an end to it all.
"Right now? Venus."
He's come in without notifying Jet. After all, why radio ahead for permission to land when he's just going to have to leave again? The guy's leg is all busted up; no need to make him get up. The Bebop's sitting in a crater anyhow. It's not going anywhere.
(blink blink)
He has to focus.
A few days earlier. Outside the Swordfish, on the beach in Eleuthera. Key goes up, key comes down. Up, down: he catches it, then turns to Beth who's tanned and gorgeous, glowing like an angel, like her hair's made of pure gold. "I can talk you through taking off from the water if you want to try it."
"I'll give it a try."
Like there was ever any doubt in her mind about trying it: he thinks that's my girl and hands her the key. She's a natural, good with the controls, and he only has to talk her through it. Not show her how; never that. She's so good at whatever she does.
Fuck. He misses her. He misses her so damn much he can hardly breathe. The habit he seems to have of finding women and then losing them... well, it's really starting to weigh heavy on him. There was a time when it might have pissed him off, but right now he's too damn sad about it for anger. He doesn't want Beth to be a ghost, just some dream: she's the fucking love of his life and no matter what, he has to see her again. He has to. He has to touch her, feel her heart beating against his, taste her lips on his, feel her arms holding him close. He needs to bask in her smile. He needs to feel the way his whole heart lights right the fuck up when she walks into the room with her "hey, bounty hunter" little more than a whisper just for him. Feel Junior in there kicking against him. He needs all that shit just once more, then once more after that, and one more time and one more until the years stretch by.
When he gets out of this, he's going to Venus. Maybe he'll find her there: New France, Galileo City. He can get Jet to hack into the Customs Control computer for each planet and moon, see if Browning, Marie, has made passage anywhere.
(blink, blink)
Yeah, right. She didn't have her passport on her that last time. Neither did he. The universe is real fucking kind that way: he's never going to find her again. Annie's dead, Julia's dead. He can't get back to Beth: there's nothing left. Not a damn thing worth living for. He guesses he might as well end it with a bang. Still, as he steps out of the Swordfish, he takes a deep breath before opening the hangar door: it worked one time. Bar. Let it be the bar, dammit.
Drip, drip, drip. Metal echoing against metal as the door grinds open. For all those times the Bebop's been a welcome sight... this sure as hell isn't one of them.
Taking the long way around, he stops by the kitchen and tests the pantry door. Nothing in there but some creature that scurries away into a far corner: that figures. Q: When is a pantry not a pantry? A: When it brings you to the end of the universe.
Not this time. Neither does the door to the shower or the door to his room or the door to his workshop. Makes him wonder if any of it ever really happened or if it was just some... amazing fucking dream. Before he can feel sorry for himself, though, he's in the main cabin where Jet's sleeping on the couch, leg bandaged up, fitful. Bullet wounds suck: it's one thing he knows intimately.
It's not long after he's there looking around the place like he's memorizing it that Jet wakes up. "Spike, you... you're back."
Hey, Mom. You look like hell. "You have anything to eat?" Jet gives him a look, relief mingled with confusion and surprise; it makes Spike smile. Just like old times, and that's one thing he's always appreciated about Jet: he never asks questions. Never asks for explanations. "I'm really starving."
With a little laugh, Jet pulls himself up off the couch, hobbles off to the kitchen. Watching him the whole time, Spike's smile doesn't fade until he's sure he's out of Jet's line of sight. Then he starts up the computer. He's not much of a hacker: in fact, he's terrible at it. But he's here and he has to try it; "Marie Browning" only gives him links to movies and pictures of Lauren Bacall and a couple personal web pages of women who have nothing to do with his Beth, and "Browning, Marie, Ransom, Phobos" doesn't turn up shit. And he can't hack into the Venus tourism or customs sites. He can't hack into the reservation system at the Edge of the World Bed & Breakfast on Europa either.
He really didn't think he'd be able to.
He's almost tempted to call his father, but then he hears noises in the hallway. Like a kid caught looking at his uncle's hidden porn collection, he shuts the computer quickly and sets it away just before Jet returns with a plate of bell peppers and beef. Thanks, Mom. I never said it, but you've been a hell of a partner. Nodding appreciatively as Jet sets down the plate, he picks up chopsticks to eat. Jet perches on the stairway, smoking, watching him. It's nothing but a moment, nothing but companionable silence that wants filling. So Spike obliges. "This food tastes terrible... as usual."
It makes Jet laugh. "Huh. For being so bad, you sure eat a lot of it."
"They say hunger is the best spice." It's true; both of them know it. Jet laughs again and there's nothing forced about it. Just laughing over a smoke. Yeah, the food's terrible, but it's also really fucking good: he hasn't eaten since that shrimp and rice at the bar with Beth. Setting down the chopsticks, plate empty (thanks, Jet, you're okay), he turns to watch Jet. "Ever heard this story?
Jet shoots him a look of surprise. "Huh?"
(And Faye always wonders where their eloquence comes from.)
It isn't often that Spike tells stories to anyone but Beth. The situation seems to call for one, though. And so what if it's a little on the metaphorical side? It might take his mind off things, help him make peace with what's going on. "There once was a tiger-striped cat. This cat died a million deaths, revived and lived a million lives and he was owned by various people who he didn't really care for. The cat wasn't afraid to die... Then one day, the cat became a stray cat, which meant he was was free. He met a white female cat, and the two of them spent their days together happily." He pauses: this is for you, Beth. This is for the future we can't have together on Venus. I'd do anything to make it come true. Any fucking thing at all. Taking a deep breath, he continues. "Well, years passed, and the white cat grew weak and died of old age. The tiger-striped cat cried a million times, and then he died too. Except this time, he didn't come back to life."
There's a moment of silence; Jet considers the tale. "Yeah, it's a good story." He closes his eyes: maybe he's visualizing it. Who the fuck knows and anyway, it doesn't matter.
Spike laughs, just a little bit. "I hate that story. I never liked cats, you know that." Beth's no cat, at least not like that. Besides, she's not dead and neither is he.
Not yet.
"Oh yeah, that's right." When Jet starts laughing, Spike laughs with him. Friends for him have always been hard to come by; Jet's a good one. Maybe the best. And he's never been good at thank yous or goodbyes, so he simply stands and moves toward the hallway.
"Hey Spike. I just want to ask you one thing."
"What's that?" After all this time, a straightforward question. Hell, he guesses there's a first time for everything. But he can't bring himself to look at Jet. Instead, he looks forward, to the corridor. Never been any good at goodbyes, dammit. I fucking hate them.
Jet's voice is soft. "Is it for the girl?"
"She's dead." That... well, that's for Julia.
Shit. "There's nothing I can do for her now." Can't do anything for anyone. Julia's dead and none of these doors are taking him back to Beth, if she's even there at the bar. He hopes like hell she is: for her sake, for Junior's sake.
Out here, there's nothing he can do for anyone except put an end to it all.
