Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Clouds in My Coffee ❯ Another Soy Latte ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: Cowboy Bebop and its characters belong solely to…me! Ha ha ha ha ha! No really, they belong to Shinichiro Wantanabe. Bummer…

 

 

AN: The long awaited and much anticipated chapter 8 is now up! Well, I don't know about long awaited, but anticipated, ne? Anyhow, this is the chapter that determines Faye's fate…as far as Marcos goes anyways.

 

On to the story! Chapter 8 of CINC…

 

Another Soy Latte

 

Jet Black was a man of action, but also a man of caution. He planned, plotted, and diagramed everything and had multiple backup plans just in case something went wrong. He liked to cover all his bases; over preparation was better than under preparation, he'd often say. Of course, there were those instances were one couldn't quite narrow down every little detail, when some plans had to be made in haste. In those occasions, he used his brain and his brawn in a usually productive combination and winged it, coming out of said incidents with little or no damage done.

 

This was not one of those incidents.

 

On this night, in May of 2074, he had planned and plotted and diagramed-but not good enough. The plans had been made in haste, but right now, his brain couldn't get around to thinking up any ways he could use his brawn to get out of the situation. He was just too scared. Right now, as he flew frantically over the streets of Tharsis, Jet's mind was doing just about nothing, except panicking. Faye could be hurt right now; she could be beaten or killed or anything else horrible and it would be his fault. If he'd stopped long enough to think this through, he would've came up with a back up plan or two. He would've given Faye something else to fall back on in case things got sticky. And he would've never let her take him home. That had been her idea, but he hadn't put up any fuss to stop her. “Man like that isn't gonna want to go to the bathroom, Jet,” she had said laughing. And he hadn't tried to counter argue either.

 

Her laughter.

 

 

Right now, Jet was scared out of his mind that he might never hear her laughter again. The Hammerhead was silent; usually when he was nervous he talked to himself to stay calm, but it was beyond that now. It had been almost ten minutes since Lori had called about the pill mishap and he still had no sign or inkling of where Faye and Marcos were. In the silence he could here a faint buzz, but didn't pay much attention to what it was. He turned the Hammerhead around about midway past the nursing home and turned around. There weren't any homes, apartments, or penthouses past this street; he had passed them already. If Marcos was still headed to that loft of his, he would have to circle some of the residential neighborhoods again. Jet sighed. That would take more time, time he didn't know he had and time he didn't want to waste, only to come up on a dead end again.

 

He didn't know where she was.

 

He didn't know if she was okay or not.

 

And it was killing him.

 

Growling again in frustration, Jet wiped a few beads of sweat from his brow and narrowed his eyes in concentration. Where would Marcos's loft be? If the guy was a loaded as he said, it would be somewhere on the East side, but then again, he was a wanted criminal and maybe had moved to somewhere deep in the slums, on the Southside. And why hadn't Lori called back? Maybe she knew something; Lori lived here and Tharsis and knew these streets, so maybe she would have some sort of idea where to find them.

 

Why hadn't Lori called?

 

Why?

 

In the back of his agitated mind, he heard that buzz again, but more predominantly now. Already irritated, he didn't need something else-an annoying noise-to further unravel his nerves, not that they could be more unraveled, anyhow. He glanced around the cockpit of his ship, searching for something that could be making that awful noise.

 

Emergency button? No.

 

Was the lock to the hatch open? No, he'd feel the pressure by now.

 

Why hasn't Lori called? Why hasn't Lori called? Why hasn't Lori-

 

Wait a minute… I know that noise!

 

Jet wanted to slap himself when he realized the answer to two of his questions.

 

The comm. was off the hook.

 

 

No wonder she couldn't call; she couldn't even get through. Hastily, he snatched up the comm. and put it back in its appropriate location. And no sooner had he done so, it buzzed. “Hello?...Thank God! Yeah, I'm almost over there now…on my way…Bye.”

 

I'm coming, Faye…I'm coming…

 

o0o

Faye ached and hurt in more places than she'd ever hurt at one time. In the past five minutes of dodging Marcos's assaults, she'd been slammed, thrown, hit, slapped, and wrestled to the floor more times than she could count. Not that she had the time to count. Marcos hadn't been lying about being a pro at jujitsu. He was pulling all kinds of moves and stunts that she hadn't ever seen before, stuff that she'd never even seen Spike pull before, and that was saying something.

 

Wait, Spike did jet kwon do. Not jujitsu. Right…

 

Just barely missing getting wanked side the head by a swift kick from Marcos, Faye used her remaining strength to make a run from the door. Or at least try it. She'd been trying for the door several times but never made it. She seemed to wind up slammed against a wall, or knocked into a random piece of furniture. But Faye wasn't going to stop trying. Although she knew without a doubt that she could never beat him or even land a blow for that matter (though that didn't stop her from snagging some loose strands of hair of pummeling on his bare arms when she could), she could dodge him. Marcos was slim, but Faye was smaller, and she had the agility of a cat. Being bare foot helped too, and so she slid down out of grasp of potentially deadly blows from either his fists or feet, though he managed to corner her a few times. Faye, however, seemed to wiggle out of his grasp just to be attacked again.

 

Faye was getting tired.

 

Five minutes of hard edged dodging was taking its toll on her stamina. Of all the times to leave her Glock in her purse, which she remembered to her chagrin, was still in the Jag. Her lungs burned from over exertion; sweat ran down her face and back; and her head was swimming from contact with Marcos's wall, or table, or floor. Now, standing uncertainly by the edge of the couch, Faye's eyes remained locked on Marcos, but her mind was on the door. It was unlocked; if she could get enough speed up to make it there and open it, she could very well manage to slam the door in his face. Maybe that would startle him long enough so she could grab for her shoe and then stab him in some convenient location before darting down the flights of stairs and out the apartment building. And if she played her cards right, she could hot wire that Jag of his…

 

It was now or never.

 

On the count of three, she ran, with all she had to the door, reaching out to grasp the door knob.

 

But she never made it. She was jerked around harshly to come face to face with Marcos's insane face, that same mad sneer plastered all over it, sending chills of fright throughout her body.

 

“I thought I told you I don't take no for an answer,” he slurred, his hands twisting her arms painfully. The hold he had on her was stronger than the others, and she couldn't, try as she might, to wrench away from him. “Leave me alone!” she cried frantically and struggled against him. But he just held tight, increasing the pressure on her arms and delivering a swift kick to her kneecap, sending her tumbling to the floor. Faye cried out in pain, but she didn't hit the floor; he swooped her up and carried her over to the couch, where he deposited her roughly and hovered just inches above her. “Time to play, Ella,” he whispered wickedly in her ear as his hot breath assaulted her skin. Cold fear sank dead in her stomach and she knew she was stuck. There was no way out.

 

He had her caught.

 

o0o

 

At an apartment building on Lincoln street that had an S-type Jaguar parked outside, Jet flew into the street just as Lori pulled up in a jeep, and a blond haired man that Jet guessed was her boyfriend, Chris, pulled up in a pick-up truck. Not wanting to waste any time, the three raced to the building and began bounding up the stairway to the loft on the sixth floor. “Lori,” Chris panted, “why…don't we…just take…the…elevator?” Lori turned the corner going up the stairs to the second floor. “Cause…it's…broken…”she replied, and gave a quick glance to Jet. His face was set, his eyes narrowed, and he didn't even look like he was loosing his breath, even though Lori knew he was older than both she and Chris. It was the adrenaline, the pure worry and dread that kept him focused. And he was focused on only one thing: Faye.

 

Rounding another corner, and then another, and then another, they were at the fifth floor when Lori saw Faye's shoes. But she didn't even pause and no one spoke; there was no time for that. They kept going, right up another flight of stairs until they finally reached the sixth floor and the only loft there.

 

The only thing running through Jet's mind at that time was getting to Faye.

 

Please be okay, baby…please…

 

o0o

 

Pinned to the couch, her dress now in tatters from Marcos's hands tearing savagely at it to get it off, Faye had never been more afraid in all her life. When she had been held hostage by Vicious's men, she didn't back down. Even when Spike had fallen from the cathedral, she had held it together. When she was tied up in Gren's apartment, she hadn't freaked out. When she had gone after Londes from S.C.R.A.T.C.H., and had almost been put into a permanent sleep; when she had felt her strength draining and made that desperate call back to the Bebop, she knew, somewhere, that she'd be okay. Because back then, she had had Spike and Jet to come to her rescue. But now, Spike was dead and Jet hadn't found her yet. And she couldn't help but think that he wasn't going to come in time. It was too late. I'm sorry Jet… she thought, because, even at such a crucial moment, she couldn't help but think of how she'd messed up yet another bounty.

 

 

Despair and fear had her petrified now, and she had lost all the energy and will to fight back. She could only plead in her mind that he would miraculously pass out, or that someone would find her or that…at least…let it be over soon…

 

Just let it be over…

 

With Marcos's iron grip on her bruised wrists above her head, and his free hand working on his belt, Faye closed her eyes and waited for the worst…

 

 

 

But it never came.

 

Instead of the expected weight of his body on top of her, she heard the dull thud of him tumbling to the floor. Had he passed out like she'd hoped? Faye cracked one eye open to see a redhead and a blond.

 

Lori…and…a guy…

 

Her head hazy, she turned to see what had caused Marcos to fall off the couch, but he wasn't there. Instead, he was slammed up against a wall, much the way that she'd been, but this was a little different. Instead of being pinned by his arms or wrists, he was held by his throat.

 

And Jet was the one doing the holding.

 

Or, better yet, crushing. Because Faye knew that if he contracted his hand just a little tighter, he would crush Marcos's throat. Marcos, even in his state, must've recognized that fact from the look on his face. Instead of the wicked out of control sneer that he had while attacking Faye, there was one of cold fear. Those violet eyes of his stared frightened at his assailant; his legs dangled in the free space between his feet and the floor, which had to be a good four feet, and his hands gripped desperately at the metal arm that held him so painfully to that wall. But it was his eyes that got Faye. And the looks on Lori's and Chris's faces was almost similar. She couldn't see Jet's face from her position on the couch, so she moved to get up, to see what the deal was. Her movement snapped Lori out of her daze, however, and the redhead quickly darted over to Faye, wrapping the violet haired woman up in a throw from the couch. Marcos still struggled against Jet's grip, and tried to speak, in hopes of worming his way out of this.

 

“C'mon man…let me go…” he panted hoarsely, but Jet didn't flinch. Marcos tried again. “C'mon...you're not sore cause I…wanted a little…fun with that hott..ie, uh?”

 

Wrong thing to say.

 

Raring his arm back again and bring Marcos with it, Jet slammed him into the wall again, causing the con to bit his tongue hard. He spit and coughed out blood as he struggled against Jet's arm. “Can't shut up, can you?” Jet asked, his voice low and calm-too calm, creeping Faye out. “Chris, hand me needle.” Chris, silent and immobile up to this point, jolted over and gave the needle he held to Jet. Without ceremony or warning, Jet stabbed the needle into the con's bare left cheek. Marcos howled with pain, but shut up the moment he saw Jet's face again. “I'm going to tell you something, Marcos,” Jet began, in that same dangerously low, calm, and cold voice as before.

 

“I'm a reasonable guy. I'm patient. I'm long suffering. I'm pretty nice, if you get to know me. But there are some things that I just hate. I hate it when someone lies to me; I hate it when someone touches something that's mine; and I hate it when a man even so much as hits a woman. Do you understand what I'm saying, Marcos?” Marcos nodded feebly as the affects of the stronger, more potent Serenity concoction had already begun to take over. “Well, then. Let me tell you this,” he continued. “You have just violated two out of three of those no-no's Marcos. 2 out of 3. That's a bad ratio, Marcos.”

 

And then, pointing his finger in Marcos's face, he growled, “I should kill you, Marcos. Do you know why? I'll tell you why! Because not only did you touch what's mine, you hit a woman. Not only did you hit her, from the looks of it, you beat her. And not only did you beat her, you had the nerve”-and he punctuated the word with a quick slam against the wall again-“to try and rape her. Marcos, I should really have my gun in your gut but I won't do that.” A quick look of relief washed over the con's face, until Jet began speaking again. “No, I'ma let you go to prison, where I'm sure some big boys won't appreciate it when they hear you tried to rape someone.” Marcos's eyes bulged in horror for a moment, before sagging under the drowsiness of the potion. Jet dropped him unceremoniously to the floor, and ordered Chris to get something to tie him up with. “You're going regret ever touching my wife, Marcos,” he said, his voice trembling with anger now. “I'll make sure of that.”

o0o

 

Back at the car, Marcos was bound and gagged successfully in the Hammerhead and Faye, after retrieving her purse from the Jaguar, sat quietly in Lori's Jeep. Lori was taking her back to the Bebop, docked two hours away in Alba City while Chris rode with Jet to turn in Marcos. She stared out the window, her mind in a daze, her body shivering involuntarily, even though it was far from cold outside. Still wrapped in the throw from the couch in the penthouse, Faye pulled it tighter around her and closed her eyes, trying to will away the past hour. Her wrists were throbbing painfully and her knee was swelling as well as her cheek from the numerous slaps, although it wasn't anything compared to the storm raging in her head. It wasn't just Marcos's assaults that had her shaken up so bad. It was how far it had gotten. She'd been in situations before where guys didn't take no for an answer…but she had always been able to defend herself. This time, she didn't stand a chance. This time, she'd almost been violated. The overwhelming feeling of helplessness washed over her again and she tried in vain to shake it off.

 

But it wasn't just the attempted rape that had her shook. It was the way Jet had dealt with the situation. Thinking back, she couldn't recall hearing the door burst open, nor the sound of Jet bounding across the room, snatching Marcos from the couch and slamming him against the wall. She hadn't even seen it. It had just happened. And it scared her probably more than Marcos himself, because she'd never, ever, ever seen Jet that way before. Sure, she'd seen him upset, angry even, but never to the point that he would killed someone. And he would've probably killed Marcos if Marcos had said just one more thing. What had made him snap like that?

 

Lost in her thoughts, Faye didn't even notice Lori get into the Jeep a few minutes later. Lori knew Faye was in shock about the whole situation, so she didn't try striking up any conversation. And for the two hour ride back to Alba City, neither of them spoke, though Lori cut on the radio softly to counter some of the eerie silence. When she was finally back at the Bebop, finally home, she got out the Jeep and walked on unsteady legs down the dock. “Faye,” Lori called gently. “Do you want me to stay with you for awhle? At least till Jet gets back.” Faye turned slowly and pause a moment, her head lowered, her eyes cloudy and lost. “Um…sure. Thanks. You want something to eat?”

 

Lori waited till Faye got her bath (which took nearly an hour because she sat in the tub till the water ran cold to scrub off the feeling of Marcos's hands on her thighs) to fix Faye and herself something to eat. As traumatized as she was, Faye was starved and ate the ham sandwich eagerly. Lori attempted to get her mind off the night a bit by telling how she knew Jet, but the mention of his name and Faye's eyes widened. She decided to switch to herself instead, and for a little while, Faye, though unusually quiet, seemed like she would be okay. But, the hatch to the Bebop opened about and hour an half later and Jet walked in, his face tired and hagared. Faye didn't look at him; she merely got up and walked silently to her room.

 

Eyes following his wife, Jet glanced at Lori, who sat on the couch and asked, “She's still…?” Lori nodded. He sighed and rubbed his temples with one shakey hand. “I can't believe I let that happen to her,” he murmured mournfully. “I can't believe I wasn't there sooner. I shouldn't have let her go with him. I should've had another plan. I”- “I think she's more scared of you than what happened, Jet,” Lori said quietly. Jet stared at Lori for a few moments, not wanting to believe what she said but knew that it was true. He had snapped back at the penthouse, his emotions overcoming logic and almost sending him down into a path he swore long ago he'd never walk. “I know,” he whispered and took a step toward the stairs leading to his room. “I didn't mean it…I just…” “I know,” Lori whispered back, moving to stand beside him. She gave him a quick but meaningful hug and turned toward the door. “I'm going to go now. Chris is waiting for me?” When he nodded she moved to go out the hatch, but not before offering one more tidbit of advice to Jet. “She knows you were…out of control. She just needs you to let her know that.” And with that, she left.

 

Jet stood silently, brooding over his actions, in the living room for several more minutes before heading to bed. Lying there, as tired as he was, he couldn't sleep, thinking in retrospect how he must've looked to Faye and the others. She's afraid of me. I never wanted her to fear me. Frustration and anger at his own actions brought a sting of tears to his eyes, which he hastily wiped away. Shuddering, he turned on his side, trying to block out everything and slip into merciful slumber.

Within a minute or two, though, he heard the soft padding of feet that could only mean Faye. Not knowing what to expect, he kept his back turned and his eyes closed…until he felt her slim arms wrap around his torso. She shuddered, and choked back a sob, but it burst forth anyways. This time it was quiet, but he could still feel it. And with it, that same sense of panic that always happened when she cried like that. Turning in the bed, he came face to face with a pair of frightened green eyes, wet with tears. She didn't speak, and neither did he, but she kept her arms around him and snuggled into his chest. “What happened?” she finally choked out. Pressing her against him and frowning in the dark, he could only shake his head.

 

“I don't know…”

 

 

 

 

I'm finished with chapter 8! Woo Hoo! Was that intense, or what? I hope I didn't make Jet seem too…crazy, but he sort of snapped at that penthouse. I guess I would too if some one was a hairs length away from raping the woman I loved…

 

So, tell me if it was bad…or good…or whatever.

 

BB