going, going, gone ♡ ( fin. )

session two

tiptoeing down memory lane

It was always cold in the mornings, now more than ever. Their ship was on standby until Spike got better, they were at a far out off post on earth. It was am empty town aside from run down fuel ports and side-of-the-road salesmen. Faye sat in her sleepware on the hood of the aircraft, her pajama shorts loose. The fabric whipped in the breeze, she brought her slender legs to her chest. Resting her head on the slope of her knees, her eyes scanned the rising horizon. The sun reawakening, it was a poetic injustice. Her fingers splayed across the expanse of her calfs, lightly drawing invisible patterns. She distracted her body whilist distracting her mind.

Her whole body ached as if she had been shot, the shell still deep in her skin. The knife in her back, to the hilt. Bile rose up in her throat when she thought about all the blood they had found him in. That godforsaken church, so much for divine intervention. She rubbed at her tired eyes, the bags had grew. It had been four days since she ventured into Spike's makeshift room. She hated seeing him so helpless, Ed might've been the first when it came to liveliness but Spike was a strong second.

It hurt to think about, and she hated how this had made her grown soft. She never was squeamish, blood had no affect on her. It was his, his blood, that's why it hurt. Faye didn't like this, it was if she was starving for something she couldn't define. It was confusion and heartache rolled into pre-mourning. She was bracing for impact, the worst of the worst.

A jolt shook the plane making Faye almost tumble off the nose, she spun her head looking straight into the cockpit of sorts. It was large, more like a control room. Jet had his hand gunning the key. He was trying to get her attention, she wondered why. His face was grim, and blank. A cold sweat washed over her, her thoughts racing straight to Spike. She bit her lip and stepped off the top.

She let her feet stamp the burnt dirt, clouds bursting up making her eyes water. Faye came to the side door, with trembling legs.

⚜

Faye stood in the cockpit, her hip resting against the empty seat while Jet sat in the driver's. He was hunched over seeming defeated, "It's been four days Faye."

She bit the inside of her cheeks, mind reeling for a smoke. It had been four days since her last one, maybe five. It was funny, she dropped everything after she heard the news.

Jet had tapped into old police radio frequencies that were being used by syndicates. That's how they knew where to find Spike. 

She ran a hand through her violet hair, it was mousy. She hadn't showered either, just smacked on some deodorant and drowned herself in perfume after she rolled off the couch at unheard of hours this morning.
She wanted to sit on the hood of the bebop and watch the stars. Spike mumbled something about them in his sleep, after he took another near death. That was way back now, she remembered singing to herself. He heard her song, then made a snide comment.

When he stared at her, it sifted her insides. He was a very distracted man, and she wasn't the type of woman to swoon, but him giving her a minute did mean something. Then the moment died that was all his fault but regardless, her mind just wanted to torture her. 

"Are you even listening?" Jet mumbled running his metal hand over his face.

Faye shot back to the present, her hand gripping the chair trying to ground herself. "What, what are you saying…" She muttered tiredly.