Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ From Loss, We Find What We Need ❯ From Loss, We Find What We Need ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

From Loss, We Find What We Need

DISC: I do not own Cowboy Bebop or the characters from Cowboy Bebop, which are the creation and property of director Shinichiro Watanabe and writer Keiko Nobumoto. I've made no profit from this story. If Watanabe-sama or Nobumoto-sama requests it, I will remove this story from the web.

I know who I am now. My past has come back to me.

It's very weird how similar I am now to how I was before the

accident. I guess it's not just your memories that make you who you

are.

But it's also strange how different I am.

I used to feel alone, but looking back, that seems like it was more

teenager angst than real loneliness. Or, as I got older, a self-

imposed exile from those who wanted me to be the same little girl I

had been before - I guess I thought that I needed to be free to

recreate myself based upon my desires at the time.

Then there was the accident. And when I was awakened, healed, and

in debt for more money than it would ever be possible for me to

repay, with no memories to support me, I was finally free to truly

be whomever I wished to be.

But…

That's really a tough question to answer. One of the toughest

questions there is.

And then, I met him.

God, he was… He was the most infuriating male I've ever met in my

entire life. I can say that with assurance now that I have my

memory back. Every single moment I spent in his presence, I found

myself wanting to hit him so hard. That is, until I realized that

this wasn't the truth. What I really wanted was to be the one he

wanted. And I never was.

He'd already fallen in love, and for him, there wasn't ever going to

be anyone else. Friggin' Julia.

Even before I met her, I knew she had to be a blonde. Only blondes

ever seem to inspire that sort of dumb loyalty, the kind that makes

men feel like they have to become the girl's protector. And I know

I never wanted to be sequestered and subjected to the type of desire

that makes a woman seem weak.

But still… Why couldn't he ever feel like that about ME?

I met her, you know. I did. And she actually had some strength to

her. But not enough for her to avoid the loyalty that she inspired

from him. Not enough so that he could ever forget about their

doomed relationship and move on to a woman who would have loved him

so much.

He really loved her.

A fairy-tale kind of love. The kind of love that's in movies. The

kind of love that isn't supposed to be real because that kind of

love destroys.

And he never realized that I loved him.

I guess I'm glad of that. If he ever knew exactly how much I loved

him, he never, EVER would have let down his guard enough for us to

share the few nights of passion that we shared.

I know. I'm an idiot. I knew he didn't love me, and I knew I was

breaking my own heart, but when I got the chance to sleep with him,

I took it. Riding him, his hands cuffed to the bed frame - I still

don't know how he got out of those cuffs while I rode him - him

rolling me over and filling me again and again while I screamed out

in pleasure… I never once said "I love you, Spike." Not once. The

silence that would have followed after would have ruined any

pleasure I had been able to achieve just by being near him.

Because he loved her, not me. And he was utterly honest. He

wouldn't have lied to comfort me - that's not… That wasn't who he

was.

It's weird that I still have a hard time writing about him in the

past tense. He's gone. Dear God, have mercy on him and shelter his

soul. I truly did love him.

No. I truly do love him. Even now. Even after all these years.

Even with my husband by my side. But my husband loved him as much

as I did, though in a different way.

One of the biggest surprises of my surprisingly unusual life is my

husband. And I guess that's the point of this whole story.

I remember that night. The night we first kissed, first tried to

bury our sorrow in the comfort of another.

We'd suffered so much loss.

First, Edward left to be with her father. We all understood. We

pretended that it didn't matter. It was good for her, so we needed

to be supportive. Besides, it's not like we were family or

anything - why should we care.

But we did.

Spike probably cared the least of any of us. Because… even though

he was with us, there was always a part of him that was still back

in the past with Julia. So nothing was as real for him as it was

for the rest of us. For the rest of us, the present was all we had.

And Jet - he cared the most of us all. Because not only did Edward

leave - Edward, who had become like his surrogate daughter - but she

took Ein with her. At that point, Spike, Edward, and Ein WERE his

family. They were all he had. What was I? An inconvenient pest at

best. He knew how much I loved Spike, and that, as well as

everything else about me it seemed, really annoyed him.

Then Spike left to take care of the past. He wanted to be whole,

not living half in the past while not really living in the present.

I knew he wouldn't come back. One way or another. Either he'd

succeed and be with her again, or he'd die. Either way, I'd lose.

Lose the only thing that mattered to me anymore.

Jet knew it too. But we were powerless to stop him.

Our loss at his death was the darkest thing I had ever known.

Darker than the years without a memory. Darker than any threat I'd

ever faced.

When we got the word that he was, really and truly, dead - that we'd

never see his arrogant smirk, his different colored eyes laughing at

us - I just shut down. Jet cried. Jet cried in front of me. Jet

cried in front of me, and I thought it was because he didn't think I

mattered enough for him to feel embarrassed about crying in front of

me.

Then, he got up, went into his quarters and as the door closed

behind him, I still sat on the couch - the one where I had nursed

Spike back to health the last time he'd faced Vicious, the time that

he had come and saved me and I had thought that maybe, just maybe,

someday he'd love me, too. Even though he had told me not to take

it personally, it gave me hope. But now he was dead, Ed was gone,

Ein was gone, Jet never liked me anyway, and I couldn't feel

anything anymore.

Truly, I don't think I could feel a thing. I was just numb. I

could have spacewalked without a suit and not felt the vacuum

pulling me apart. Nothing mattered. And now, I was alone - for

real.

And then…

Jet walked back in with a full bottle of single malt scotch and two

shot glasses. He sat next to me on the couch and filled both

glasses. He pushed one on the table in front of me, picked up his,

and said, "Spike, may you find peace in your next life that you

never found in this one," and held up his glass toward me to clink.

Like a dream, I reached forward and picked it up. Like a puppet.

Not through any will of my own.

We downed the shots, and Jet poured another one. "I'll miss you,

buddy," he muttered, and we both downed the next one. He poured

another, and there was no toast this time. We both just drank as

fast as he could pour. Eventually, I heard myself mumble, "To what

might have been." Jet started and looked at me, then with a sad

look on his face, he said, "What will be, will be," grimaced, and

downed that shot.

I swallowed the liquid fire that I couldn't even feel burning

anymore and sobbed, "But WHY? Why does it have to be like this?"

And finally, I started to cry.

`I had wanted him to love me!' I thought. I truly don't believe I

cried it out loud. Then, I looked up angrily. `No one ever ends up

loving me, though.' I grabbed the bottle and poured another shot

for us both.

"Jet, are you going to leave me behind, too?" I asked, like I didn't

care, and swallowed hard. So tired of being alone.

He drank, set his glass down, took mine out of my hand, set it on

the table, and using his real hand, the one that could feel, he

turned my head toward him.

"That's entirely up to you."

I had no idea what he meant.

"Do you want me to leave you alone? Or… Do you think… Maybe

tonight…

"Faye, I'm not good at this kind of thing, but he was my best

friend. My last friend. It's not like you have to feel anything

for me-" he cut himself off and leaned in and kissed me. He kissed

me so hard, so passionately.

I really had never even considered him before. I am ashamed to say

it. I had never considered anything about him. I was too

infatuated with Spike.

And then he kissed me more thoroughly than I'd ever been kissed in

my life. When we broke for air, he whispered, "I'm tired of being

alone."

I'm tired of being alone.

I knew exactly how he felt.

The first time was filled with rough passion, an act desperation

against the loneliness that was threatening to dry out our souls. I

wouldn't call it lovely. I wouldn't call it love. Even though we

fell asleep in each other's arms. Even though when we woke, there

wasn't the embarrassment that you would imagine would have been

there. It wasn't love. Yet.

We slept in the same bed, taking comfort from each other as needed

for the next two months. But we didn't date. We worked together.

Actually managed to get a couple of bounties. Enough to do better

than just survive.

The third month, we were having dinner one night "Special bell

peppers with beef" - this time, there actually was beef - and he

looked up at me and said, "You know, I don't want to be alone

anymore."

I sighed and said, "I know, Jet." `I know you don't really care

about me. We're just needy. I get it,' is what I thought.

"But that's not enough for me anymore."

I looked up at him. I'd grown more quiet since Spike died. And if

he wanted to get rid of me, it wouldn't be that hard to do. But the

thought that he was getting ready to get rid of me HURT. I hadn't

expected that. It hurt a LOT. I found myself fighting to not let

the tears fill my eyes.

"It's just not enough, Faye," he said again. "I always knew you

loved Spike. And when he was gone, and we were alone, I thought

maybe…

"But I want the woman I love to love me, too."

There was no way I could move. I had to concentrate too hard to not

cry.

"Faye, it's not the first time I've had to say goodbye to a woman.

But… I can't pretend I don't care about you. You're the only family

I have, and it's killing me. I can't stay with you like this."

A tear escaped my eye. "If you care, then don't leave me, Jet.

Please." I was crying now.

He turned away so that he wasn't looking at me straight. "I can't

stay with you, Faye. It hurts too much."

I stood up and walked toward my quarters to get my belongings. I

was alone again, it seemed. "I'm sorry, Jet," I said quietly as I

walked toward the door. "You can put my portion of the bounties we

haven't spent yet in an envelope, and then I'll leave. I'm sorry

I've been such a burden all this time. I always was a pain. All my

life."

I felt like there was nothing left. I had lost everything.

Everything.

I cried all the way to my room. I lay down on my bunk and sobbed.

I cried for about an hour until Jet walked in and handed me an

envelope.

Then he turned and as he walked out said, "It's better this way,

Faye. If you're on your own, you'll find someone you can love." I

almost didn't hear him mutter, "Annoying, gold-digging woman.

You'll find someone you can love. It just won't be me."

It was then that I realized it. It wasn't just need anymore. I

truly did love him. He was the only one in my entire life who cared

enough to give me what I need.

I stood up and said loudly, "But I love YOU, Jet."

It took some convincing. Months of it. But eventually, he knew I

meant it.

Those months, I don't think I'd ever smiled that much as I did once

I realized… Realized what I had. What he meant to me.

I got my memories back. Then I got my life back. Then I found

love. He doesn't always believe it. But he's the true love of my

life.