Midnight Blues

1. Maybe Tomorrow

Spike sat on the hard yellow couch watching the slowly circling blades of the ceiling fan as they sliced neatly through the thin stream of smoke that went curling upwards when he exhaled. He didn't know where the rest of the Bebop's crew was, nor did he really care. Jet was probably tending to his precious bonsai. Ed was undoubtedly tapping madly away at her Tomato, that, or she had devised some new and improved way to torment Ein. Spike almost felt bad for the little Corgi. He took a long drag on his cigarette, holding his breath for a moment before gently blowing the smoke away. Almost. As for the remaining member of their merry little band, she was no doubt gambling away her latest earnings playing slots or dice or betting on ponies or puppies. She had been gone for a week and a half, not that her absence was causing problems, after all, what with the slow period in the bounty business, he himself hadn't done much besides sleep, leaving his room only to eat, shower, work out a few kinks in his workout room or sit staring blankly at the ceiling fan in the little common room. Jet hadn't seemed too worried after having checked to see that all their cash and food were still where they were supposed to be.

"She'll be back," he'd said. "Just wait till she runs out of money and decides she's hungry."

Spike had been incredulous, but Jet had only shrugged and said, "She's too damn lazy to steal, especially when she knows she's got a free meal ticket."

Spike snorted quietly to himself. Typical Faye. The fan continued its monotonous course as he watched the blades from his vantage point, sprawled out on the couch down below. His thoughts drifted. Memories surfaced in his mind--a brief smile, a soft laugh, gunshots, screaming, golden hair framing deep blue eyes wide with pain and terror, an angel, his angle, his demon… a pair of pale blue eyes, pale skin, pale hair, a dark bird crowing coarsely into the chill night air, mocking him—

"Move over, lunkhead. There are other people on this ship, you know."

Spike closed his eyes, taking another drag. And here he'd thought his few moments of solitude would last a little longer. Stupid. "I see the cat realized what he'd dragged in and fled," he drawled, staying as he was. "Wish he'd given me a head start." He could almost see her, hip cocked, arms crossed, scowl marring her features. A self-satisfied smirk curved his lips slightly.

"What the hell? What ugly thing crawled up your ass this time?" Faye snapped, irritably.

"Well," he began, cracking one eye to squint up at her as she stood over him. "It has purple hair, green eyes, a bitchy attitude and a wardrobe that would make a hooker blush." He rose blowing a few smoke rings in her face as he passed her on the way to his room. He paused to crush the butt of his spent smoke in the ashtray on the small coffee table. "Don't get anything on my couch, woman," he said over his shoulder as he walked away, hands shoved in his pockets.

Faye gaped at his retreating figure, before cursing furiously. "Where the hell do you get off, you misbegotten son of a bitch! You're such a fucking asshole, Spike!" She shouted after him, her body rigid with anger and hurt, hands balled tightly into fists.

Spike turned as he reached the hatch leading to the part of the ship that housed their quarters, a sardonic smile gracing his handsome features. "So I hear," he said before disappearing through the hatch.

Faye scowled, dropping gracelessly onto the couch that had been so recently vacated. What the hell was his problem? She'd just gotten back; there hadn't been any time for her to do something deserving of such insults. She shook her head. Then again, Spike had never needed a reason to insult her; he seemed to view it as some form of entertainment. The bastard, it's not like she had disturbed him while he was doing something in the first place. Lying back to lounge on couch, she extended her full length over its hard plastic surface. One slim leg dangling over the far arm, she picked up the small remote and flicked the vid screen on the table to life.

"--just apply cream to the area of infection twice daily for best res--"

Click.

"-- win it in the bottom of the ninth--!"

Click.

"--no, please don't leave, Pierre. I know you love Anna Bella Maria, but she's dead...Pierre! Pierre, NO!--"

Click.

"—now that the mushrooms are a light brown color, take them out of the pan and—"

Click!

Faye grimaced, leaning forward to switch the unhelpful device off with a gunt. She glanced at the tiny clock in the corner of the screen: seven thirty-two in the morning. There was never anything decent on at this hour. Looking at the clock again, she was mildly surprised Spike was even awake. He usually remained entombed in his cell of a room until late afternoon before shuffling out looking like death warmed over after a bad day at the wig shop and disappearing into the shower for an hour. Then it was either badger Jet for food, a return shuffle to his room or a zombified stupor on the couch blowing smoke circles to be sautéed by the ceiling fan. It was way too early for him to be up.

Faye sighed again, rubbing her tired eyes. It hadn't been the same since the night he'd left, the very image of a tortured man with a battered soul. She and Jet had retreated into themselves, pretending everything was just as it had always been. Jet had continued to fret over his precious bonsai trees and serve what he liked to pretend was food and Faye ate it without complaint, or much else in the way of conversation. They had kept on hunting bounties, not having any other way to obtain money. Between jobs she had taken to spending hours sitting silently on the couch, simply staring, maybe because there wasn't anything else to do or maybe because it reminded her of him. After a few weeks Ed and Ein had disappeared and the remaining two members of the Bebop's crew had tried to hold on to the illusion of life as usual, but the ship had been too quiet, too big for just two people. The engines were a constant hum in the background, but the empty halls had magnified the void left by the loss of half the crew. Faye had begun miss Ed's insane antics, her maniacal faces, her songs, her games, her constant manic cheerfulness. She'd even felt a twinge of regret at the loss of Ein the little Welsh Corgi. But what had weighed most heavily on both her and Jet was the sudden absence of Spike Spiegel, and neither of them could quite understand why. Jet had considered the lanky man a partner, a friend even, hell, a good friend, but he had lost friends in the past, so why was losing this one so much worse? Faye had never gotten along with him. They'd fought and bickered incessantly like children from the moment she'd set foot on the old ship. She had been sure she'd be happy when he was gone for good, but when it had become apparent that he wasn't coming back, that he'd more than likely gone and let himself die, she'd slowly begun to drown in the void left by his absence.

And then one day he had nearly crashed the Swordfish on the Bebop's deck. She and Jet had run out in time to see him slip off his ship's ladder and collapse on the deck, a bloody awful broken mess. Neither Faye or Jet had had high hopes for his survival, but it was apparent that the man had someone looking out for him, for on the third week he had opened his mismatched eyes, looked up blearily into Faye's worried face, gave one pained groan and then passed out. Faye snorted at the memory. Typical Spike.

Arching her back, she stretched, a small groan escaping her lips as vertebrates popped loudly. Whatever, she thought. I don't even know why I bother patching him up every time he comes back abused. He's a useless lout in the first place. Hardly worth the air he breathes…she closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Spike stood in the dark of his workout room watching the stars, punching bag hanging beside him, a darker patch of darkness. He glanced at his watch, mid morning if they had been planet-side, but while they were in transit it would always be night with only the stars to light there way. He hadn't bothered with the light when he'd entered, the door shutting behind him with a soft hiss embracing him in cool darkness just as he liked it. The burning end of his cigarette glowed brightly, illuminating his face for an instant in a harsh red glow as he inhaled deeply, before dimming to a barely visible ruddy point as he lowered it from his lips. These things are gonna kill me one day… Exhaling the smoke from his lungs with a sigh he tapped the ashes onto the floor and flicked the smoldering butt off into a corner, a glowing red point arching off into the darkness leaving a dim trail of smoke in memory of its flight.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and stood silently contemplating the stars. It had been a long time since he'd stood there alone, in the dark, with none but the ghosts of the past for company. The last time had been the night he'd left to find out if he was truly alive. Spike chuckled humorlessly to himself, pushing the large punching bag gently and watched as it swung slowly back and forth. He had come in for a work out, to clear his thoughts, refocus his mind. Spike shrugged. Maybe tomorrow. The door opened with a hiss at the press of a button, and he made his way back to his quarters.

It was just as he'd left it the night before. Whatever Faye might have thought about his unusually early appearance on the couch that morning, the truth was that he had been sitting there all night. The long night had finally caught up with him and he kicked off his shoes, divested himself of his jacket, shirt and tie and fell back onto the rumpled bed. Lacing his fingers behind his head he breathed deeply and drifted off into dreamless sleep.

The sound of footsteps brought Faye out of her unconscious slumber. Recognizing the walker by his easy gate, she kept her eyes closed, pretending to be asleep as he moved past her position on the couch and down the hall. She sat up in time to see a mop of green hair disappearing round the bend of the corridor in the direction of the crew quarters. She rolled her eyes. Stupid lunkhead is going to sleep his life away before he knows it. The thought spurred her into action as if she had realized that she might sleep her life away before she knew it.

She paused as she walked through the echoing corridors of the ship, thinking. There really wasn't anything to do on the Bebop but sleep, at least while it was on it's way somewhere. Her room was in relatively good repair and she saw no need to do any cleaning there; the Redtail had a few dings, but the Jet always managed to keep it running in good condition so she wasn't going to complain. Spike's workout room was not an option, seeing as how he would flay her alive if he found her there defiling his private space. She scowled, annoyed both at Spike for being the vandal that he was, and at herself for always letting him get to her. With a shrug, she headed off in the direction of Jet's bonsai room in the hopes that the old man might be there and in a good enough mood to be personable.

Jet sat quietly contemplating his trees. It had been a long time since he'd had the chance to see to his little friends, and it had taken a lot of tender love and care to get them back into some semblance of order. He had just finished pruning a particularly stubborn specimen and was admiring his handiwork when there was a knock on the door. He was surprised to find Faye standing in the doorway. She looked as if she was surprised to find herself there.

"Yeah?"

Faye blinked. "I, uh, I've got nothing to do, and…" she trailed off.

Jet stared at her. "Let me guess. You've gambled away all your money, and now you've come to ask senile old Jet if you can borrow some of his. Well the answer is no." He said flatly and turned back to his trees.

Faye frowned. "No, actually that's not why I came—"

Jet didn't have to feign his surprise. "It's not?"

"No, Jet, it's not, but since I seem to be bothering you, oh great and powerful master of all things green, I'll leave you to your precious plants," she said and stalked out of the room. Men! Do they make a point of being complete jerks all the time or is that just their natural state!

"Faye!"

She turned and glared at Jet, who was leaning out of the doorway and rubbing his prosthetic metal hand over the smooth surface of his bald head. Faye had to suppress a giggle at the sudden image of Jet with a rag, polishing his head in the mirror until it gleamed. "What."

"I, uh, sorry," he began, looking slightly abashed, an expression that did not fit on his hard features. "Would you like to, ah, help me with the…bonsai?" The question seemed to cause him a great deal of pain as he said it.

Faye was shocked. Jet never let anyone touch those trees. Not anyone. Ever. "Are you, are you sure?"

Jet suddenly looked very unsure, and seemed to be regretting his move considerably. "Uh, yeah, sure. Just…just do what I say and don't, don't cut anything."

Faye smiled as she walked back into the room. She and Jet had become closer during the long period of Spike's absence. They had rarely spoken, but the shared loss had created a bond between the two crewmates that Faye had grown to cherish. Jet was a hard, grizzled old dog, but he had a sweet streak that had pretty much been the only thing that had kept her going. She smiled as she sat down beside him on the long bench before the little bonsai forest and took the watering can that Jet handed her. Now she understood why Jet spent so much time in there. The hours passed as minutes as the two tended to the tiny trees in silence, Jet snipping the occasional branch or testing the soil and Faye watering here and there at his direction. When they finally finished the ship was nearly dark. The ships systems automatically dimmed the lights to mimic the effect of being planet-side. Faye made her way to her bed and was asleep within minutes, images of little green trees floating through her mind.