April 26, 2004
Author's Notes – Hi, all! I hope everyone is well! Luckily, with the completion of this piece here, it finally seems as though I've gotten the urge to write one-shots out of my system (for now, that is). I hope that's good news for those of you waiting for more updates on my longer works.
Unfortunately, ( you just KNEW that was coming, didn't you?) I really haven't been working on 'Tandemonai' or 'Look Me in the Eye', and certainly not 'Coming Home' all that much. I appreciate all the encouragement you've been sending, but I can't seem to get any inspiration for any of those fics. Rest assured, it'll come eventually.
But, not to leave you guys on a sour note, I have a bit more good news! For all you Bebop-ers out there who enjoyed my earlier work, "That's Why They Call it the Blues", it's official: I have finally started working on the sequel, "Just Another Burnt Out Star".
Miss Chang Po – Really now?
::nods proudly:: Seriously; I've gotten about 4 chapters written out so far. Granted, it doesn't have the same edginess so far like the first one had, but I'm working on that. Besides, the crew's back together and that means some of the tension surrounding that is gone. But rest assured, there'll be more to fill its place. –wink!-
Miss Chang Po – You did not just do that...
::grins apologetically:: Sorry, got a little worked up there. But anyways, to hold you guys over until I get around to posting ( I haven't decided when though, so just be on the lookout) here's another nonsensical one-shot for your reading enjoyment. Read and review, onegaishimasu!
Disclaimer (wow, haven't written on of these in a while... oops!) Cowboy Bebop is a product of Sunrise Inc. I don't own it; I'm merely 'borrowing' it for the hell of it...
Miss Chang Po – And for your own twisted enjoyment.
True, true... -wink!- (Miss Chang Po – Y_Y...)
"Control"
"Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me"
- Puddle of Mudd, "Bottom", Life on Display
He'd regretted saying it right after the words left his mouth.
"Bastard!" Her fist swung around in a graceful arc, slicing through the air with practiced precision before landing against its mark with a loud crack.
In accordance with the laws of Physics, her mark – in this instance his jaw – relented under the force of the blow. Spike's head quickly snapped backwards, the action nearly sending the lanky bounty hunter stumbling out of his stool.
Jet merely grunted and went back to his drink; he knew better than to get involved. The other occupants of the bar seemed to share his sentiments for they, too, went back to minding their own business lest they be next.
Meanwhile, Faye stood in front of Spike breathing heavily as she glared down at him. Her body shook furiously with anger as her fists shook with anger – it was as if she were just itching to sock him one again.
"Go to hell, Spike." she spat out venomously. "And go screw yourself while you're at it." She quickly emptied the contents of her glass at the counter before slamming some money down. "I may do a lot of things for money, but THAT is not one of them. I will never – EVER – be your whore!" Without another word, she turned on her heels and stormed out of the bar.
The commotion in the bar had resumed its earlier fervor, the tension that had surrounded the couple at the bar no longer present. However, Spike still had yet to react. His head remained tilted to the side as a result of the blow; a look of surprise still etched across his face.
Coming to blows with Faye was not something he was unfamiliar with; their usual, petty arguments over bathroom rights, food, or couch space had often come to pushes and shoves. Hell, there were even a few times where he'd been tackled over a pack of cigarettes. When it came down to it, he'd been kicked, pinched, scratched, and bitten.
But never had he been punched. Faye had never outright punched him before.
Needless to say, he'd had it coming. The three of them – Faye, Jet, and himself – had stopped in a cheap bar on Venus as a result of a botched up bounty. After all, there was no better way to forget your woes than to drown them in liquor, right?
And Spike had a lot of woes. He'd been feeling particular shitty about the whole failed bounty ordeal – being at fault had a way of doing that to you. Being broke, tired, and hungry never helped matters either. All of that tied in with the fact that Spike was feeling a bit sexually frustrated was making him a bit... grouchy.
He'd never asked her to walk into his life, but she'd come anyway – all coy and sneaky at first and then all of a sudden guns blazing and rockets red glaring. Faye Valentine was not the type of person – type of woman – you took lightly. She had a way of drawing your attention, plucking your nerves, pissing you off, and driving you frickin' insane; and damn it if you didn't go down with a smile on your face all the way.
She was like a disease and he was exhibiting all the tell-tale signs; shortness of breath, quickening heartbeat, lingering glances in her direction, a growing sense of attraction – day after day, Spike found that his control over himself was slowly slipping.
Granted, Spike had never been one to make a great show of emotion. In his time as a member of the Syndicate, emotions were a distraction; getting worked up over things was likely to get you shot or killed. You wanted an outlet for your emotions? Say'em with your fists, or better yet, your gun...
So, it was obvious that it wouldn't go over to well if he went and shot Faye. And he was somewhat of a gentleman – when the occasion called for it – so hitting her was out of the question. Obviously, he was only left with one outlet – one that he constantly used to his advantage to stave off the 'disease' slowly sifting through his system. If only he had known it would get so out of hand...
It had started – of course – with the bounty. Faye had been whining about how they never seemed to have enough money. Spike had first commented that if she was so concerned about money, she should have ordered a beer instead of her usual shot of vodka. Of course, she had retaliated and to Jet's chagrin they had initiated an all out verbal battle of wills against each other.
'You shouldn't be so choosy when it comes to which bounties you'll take,' she'd said. 'You should be more of a team player' she'd said. 'Even with all my debts I manage to bring in more money than you,'
It wasn't true, he knew. They usually raked in an equal amount when it came to bounties, give or take a few woolongs. But unfortunately, Spike had already gotten a few drinks in his system – feeling a bit tipsy and not to mention a bit pissed. Pissed at the few thousand woolongs that had slipped through his fingers, pissed at all the damned whining about debt and bills and shit. Not to mention pissed at Faye and himself in general. She'd been so close up to him, in his face, and with his control gradually slipping...
The attraction had always been there, but the memory of Julia had managed to keep it at bay. But now, she was gone and Faye – damn her – Faye remained. He had wanted to hit her, wanted to hate her, wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and tell her all the things he been meaning to tell her but never had the guts to because he was too busy waiting to die.
Still, the middle of a crowded bar was not the ideal place to let down his boundaries, and since the booze was not helping quell any of the feelings that were on their way to reaching the breaking point, he'd said the first thing that came to mind to get her out of his face. Too bad it happened to be the wrong thing...
'Well, if you want more money, then do something about it. Maybe we'd all be happier if we just started pimping you out – after all, you already look the part.'
Jet, ever the sensible one, hadn't even had the chance to head off the carnage. After all, they'd both expected her to get mad. That was what usually happened anyway. Spike assumed she'd yell and scream, maybe cause a scene so that he could drag her out the building and shut her up with a kiss (even Spike was not without a few romantic notions). Maybe then he could give in to all the voices and pent-up emotions building up inside of him. Maybe there could be something between the two of them...
He hadn't expected her to deck him. Nor had he expected the tears that had sprung up in her widening eyes as the wretched words fell from his lips.
He'd hurt her. Badly. Never had he seen such a sight; he'd seen Faye upset before – in pain from an injury, depressed by Whitney and her lack of memories, confused by the beta tape, but never this. Spike never imagined he would be the one to make Faye Valentine cry.
And damn it if he didn't feel like shit for it...
~~~
Fortunately, it didn't take long to find her. Following the signal from her communicator, he'd tracked her down to the outskirts of town, beyond the floating plants hovering over the cities. Here there was nothing but craggy rocks and scorching deserts as far as the eye could see.
Her zip craft was only a few meters away from where he landed – within the shade of an overhang of rocks. Walking a short distance, he was stopped a small stone zipped past his face, skipping off into the hot sands.
She tossed another into the air, letting the piece of metal held in her hands swing around in a swift motion before it connected with a loud 'CRACK', flying off into the distance.
Spike let out a breath that could have been construed as a chuckle or a sigh. "You hit pretty hard." He remarked.
Faye paused, before sending another stone into the air, watching as it landed and went skipping across the sand. Easing out of her batting stance, she let the stick she was holding rest against her shoulder. Upon closer inspection, Spike realized it was an old bat – the paint and lettering had faded away, leaving the semi-polished metal to stand the test of time alone. The way she held it – it was almost as if it had been a prized possession of hers.
"I loved baseball," she remarked. "I was pretty good too, I think... managed to get a softball scholarship in college. I remember, as a little kid, playing with dad all the time when he had the time..." She trailed off, her words softly carried away by the sandy winds.
Her memories still hadn't been completely restored. Since his recovery, he'd noticed that every once in a while, she'd re-experience one. He could only look on as her eyes took on a faraway look, her mind disappearing momentarily. Spike could only wait until the Faye he knew would gradually return.
He didn't like feeling so helpless.
Faye's eyes cleared and Spike locked his gaze with hers. "You're good."
"I'm good at a lot of things," she replied neutrally. "Running, playing cards, selling my body for money..."
He cringed. "Faye..."
"What?" She looked at him. "You think I don't know how people see me? You think I woke up one day and decided this is what I wanted to look like – what I wanted to be?" She clenched the bat tightly in her hands.
"Look, I just..."
"Well, that's it then, right? How 'bout it then, Spike?" She stepped towards him, her bat held low in her hands, her voice taunting him. "How 'bout we go back to that bar? I'm sure somebody's got some cash they've got to burn. I'm sure I can show'em what a good time really is... with you running the show, of course."
He was getting uneasy now, but he willed himself not to show it. Faye was just trying to get a rise out of him after all, wasn't she? "Look, Faye," he replied. "I didn't mean to say that..."
"Didn't you?" she shot back. "Isn't that how you see me? Look at me..." She spread her arms out, the vinyl material of her top shifting with the movement. "Don't I look like a whore? Act like one?"
Spike looked away. There was a strange glint in her eye that was a bit off. The two of them were teetering on the edge of something... something Spike wasn't sure he was ready for.
"But you don't know what it's like, do you, Spike? How would you know?" Her voice was soft, but her eyes were watching him as a hunter would its prey; emerald green shining like fire. "You're the kind of guy that sees something he wants and has the guts to go right up and take it directly – no matter what the risks..."
Of course she would drag up his ill-fate tryst with Julia. He didn't blame her. However, where that would once spur him to retaliate – he had held Julia in such reverence, like a goddess – now he had long since put that behind him. Julia was no longer the woman who held so much power over him – that woman was now standing in front of him with a steel bat in her hand...
"The rest of us – the ones like me, at least – we have to find other ways to get by," she replied. "We have to be crafty, sneaky. We have to lie, cheat, steal... sell whatever it is that we own... whatever it is they want take." Her eyes lost that hard, manic edge and took on that faraway expression once again. With an exhalation of breath, she sat down in the sand.
Slowly, Spike lowered himself down next to her, staring off into the desert. Fishing into his jacket, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his trusty Zippo lighter.
"Did you..." Faye glanced at him briefly. "How many times did you have to...?"
"That..." she replied harshly. "Is none of your damn business."
Spike let out a laugh, but it was forced. "Y'know," he replied. "You're not the only person to ever have to do something you were ashamed of."
She scoffed at him. "Don't give me that shit." She remarked. "You sell your body a few times to keep debt collectors from putting a bullet in your head and then come back to me. Maybe then I'll be more inclined to start up a pity part with you."
Her words left a weird feeling in his chest, but he ignored it. "Fair enough." Relenting, he shrugged, taking another puff of his cigarette. "But you don't do it anymore..."
"Shut the hell up – I never said I was ashamed!" Her eyes said differently though. "I do what I have to do to get by... but I will never do that again – ever." She looked away from him. "Even if that means I can't do what I want."
The more he remained next to her, the harder he found to maintain the 'don't give a damn' attitude. After all, the woman had pretty much bared her soul to him. She hadn't gotten all mopey and weepy like women tended to do; she'd thrown it in his face in a 'take-it-or-leave-it' fashion that only she could exhibit with such grace.
To him, Faye was amazing.
He took another puff of his cigarette, trying to hold onto what little control he had left. "I'll make sure you don't have to go through that again," he replied softly.
She frowned at him. "I don't want your protection."
"What do you want then?"
Faye turned towards him, surprise etched on her face as if she were seeing him for the first time. Gradually, her expression turned into a smirk. "What do you care?"
He only shrugged. "I wanted to know." He replied. "Seeing since I seem to be the master of taking things I want, I figured I'd help you out."
She remained silent a moment before moving closer towards him. After a few seconds, she was kneeling in front of him, watching him intently. "I don't need your help."
He just shrugged. Did she know how dark her eyes got when she was focused? "Okay."
"Or your pity."
Her skin, clear and pale, was flawless. Was it as soft to the touch as it looked? "Okay."
"Or your frickin' sympathy."
How could he have not noticed how beautiful she was? Another shrug. "Okay."
Silence fell upon them, remaining until Faye cursed softly under her breath. Without a warning, she grabbed the lapels of Spike's jacket, pressing her lips against his as firmly as she could muster.
For a few seconds, Spike could only blink, hardly believing what was happening. As the sensation of her lips against his flooded through his body, his control slipped and he found himself soon returning her kiss with equal fervor. The one kiss soon became many and as he pulled her closer, he succeeded in losing his balance and sending them both toppling over into the dirt.
They broke away from each other, their eyes locking. Despite the heat coursing through his system, and the feather-light kisses she began laying across his neck, Spike found himself speaking calmly. "Is this...." She paused, looking back up at him. "What you need...?"
Her green eyes were gleaming as she answered, "It's what I want...what I've wanted for a long time." She cocked her head to the side. "Am I wrong for taking this...? Are you giving this to me?"
Spike smirked. "Hell if I know," He brought his hands up to her face, running his fingers through her hair. It was surprisingly soft. "This is real, right?" His hands trailed down her face to her neck, to her shoulders, further down her body. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the crook of her neck. "Is this what it feels like to be alive, Faye?"
"I want it to be," she answered, exhaling shakily. "God, I want it to be." She pulled away, staring into his eyes. "Am I real to you, Spike?"
"You always have been," he replied, a smile making its way across his face. "And you always will be.
Faye looked at him quietly, weighing his words as she studied his features. Then, after placing her hands on his shoulders, she too, smiled.
~End
Author's Notes - God, I love writing while listening to music. Right now, I'm listening to Puddle of Mudd's 'Already Gone' from their new album, "Life on Display". It's a very good album, and they are a very good band. In fact, their earlier single, "Control", as this piece is also entitled, spurred me to write this. One really has nothing to do with the other, but then again, this fic has very little plot.
But all that aside, I hope it was still enjoyable... despite the fact that it made no sense... Like I said before, I will now be focusing more attention on my next multi-chap fic, "Just Another Burnt Out Star". Keep a look out for it and updates for my other works.
Ja ne! and remember the 3 R's of Fanfiction...
Reading
Writing
Reviewing... =)
Author's Notes – Hi, all! I hope everyone is well! Luckily, with the completion of this piece here, it finally seems as though I've gotten the urge to write one-shots out of my system (for now, that is). I hope that's good news for those of you waiting for more updates on my longer works.
Unfortunately, ( you just KNEW that was coming, didn't you?) I really haven't been working on 'Tandemonai' or 'Look Me in the Eye', and certainly not 'Coming Home' all that much. I appreciate all the encouragement you've been sending, but I can't seem to get any inspiration for any of those fics. Rest assured, it'll come eventually.
But, not to leave you guys on a sour note, I have a bit more good news! For all you Bebop-ers out there who enjoyed my earlier work, "That's Why They Call it the Blues", it's official: I have finally started working on the sequel, "Just Another Burnt Out Star".
Miss Chang Po – Really now?
::nods proudly:: Seriously; I've gotten about 4 chapters written out so far. Granted, it doesn't have the same edginess so far like the first one had, but I'm working on that. Besides, the crew's back together and that means some of the tension surrounding that is gone. But rest assured, there'll be more to fill its place. –wink!-
Miss Chang Po – You did not just do that...
::grins apologetically:: Sorry, got a little worked up there. But anyways, to hold you guys over until I get around to posting ( I haven't decided when though, so just be on the lookout) here's another nonsensical one-shot for your reading enjoyment. Read and review, onegaishimasu!
Disclaimer (wow, haven't written on of these in a while... oops!) Cowboy Bebop is a product of Sunrise Inc. I don't own it; I'm merely 'borrowing' it for the hell of it...
Miss Chang Po – And for your own twisted enjoyment.
True, true... -wink!- (Miss Chang Po – Y_Y...)
"Control"
"Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me
Sticks and stones may break my bones
but words will never hurt me"
- Puddle of Mudd, "Bottom", Life on Display
He'd regretted saying it right after the words left his mouth.
"Bastard!" Her fist swung around in a graceful arc, slicing through the air with practiced precision before landing against its mark with a loud crack.
In accordance with the laws of Physics, her mark – in this instance his jaw – relented under the force of the blow. Spike's head quickly snapped backwards, the action nearly sending the lanky bounty hunter stumbling out of his stool.
Jet merely grunted and went back to his drink; he knew better than to get involved. The other occupants of the bar seemed to share his sentiments for they, too, went back to minding their own business lest they be next.
Meanwhile, Faye stood in front of Spike breathing heavily as she glared down at him. Her body shook furiously with anger as her fists shook with anger – it was as if she were just itching to sock him one again.
"Go to hell, Spike." she spat out venomously. "And go screw yourself while you're at it." She quickly emptied the contents of her glass at the counter before slamming some money down. "I may do a lot of things for money, but THAT is not one of them. I will never – EVER – be your whore!" Without another word, she turned on her heels and stormed out of the bar.
The commotion in the bar had resumed its earlier fervor, the tension that had surrounded the couple at the bar no longer present. However, Spike still had yet to react. His head remained tilted to the side as a result of the blow; a look of surprise still etched across his face.
Coming to blows with Faye was not something he was unfamiliar with; their usual, petty arguments over bathroom rights, food, or couch space had often come to pushes and shoves. Hell, there were even a few times where he'd been tackled over a pack of cigarettes. When it came down to it, he'd been kicked, pinched, scratched, and bitten.
But never had he been punched. Faye had never outright punched him before.
Needless to say, he'd had it coming. The three of them – Faye, Jet, and himself – had stopped in a cheap bar on Venus as a result of a botched up bounty. After all, there was no better way to forget your woes than to drown them in liquor, right?
And Spike had a lot of woes. He'd been feeling particular shitty about the whole failed bounty ordeal – being at fault had a way of doing that to you. Being broke, tired, and hungry never helped matters either. All of that tied in with the fact that Spike was feeling a bit sexually frustrated was making him a bit... grouchy.
He'd never asked her to walk into his life, but she'd come anyway – all coy and sneaky at first and then all of a sudden guns blazing and rockets red glaring. Faye Valentine was not the type of person – type of woman – you took lightly. She had a way of drawing your attention, plucking your nerves, pissing you off, and driving you frickin' insane; and damn it if you didn't go down with a smile on your face all the way.
She was like a disease and he was exhibiting all the tell-tale signs; shortness of breath, quickening heartbeat, lingering glances in her direction, a growing sense of attraction – day after day, Spike found that his control over himself was slowly slipping.
Granted, Spike had never been one to make a great show of emotion. In his time as a member of the Syndicate, emotions were a distraction; getting worked up over things was likely to get you shot or killed. You wanted an outlet for your emotions? Say'em with your fists, or better yet, your gun...
So, it was obvious that it wouldn't go over to well if he went and shot Faye. And he was somewhat of a gentleman – when the occasion called for it – so hitting her was out of the question. Obviously, he was only left with one outlet – one that he constantly used to his advantage to stave off the 'disease' slowly sifting through his system. If only he had known it would get so out of hand...
It had started – of course – with the bounty. Faye had been whining about how they never seemed to have enough money. Spike had first commented that if she was so concerned about money, she should have ordered a beer instead of her usual shot of vodka. Of course, she had retaliated and to Jet's chagrin they had initiated an all out verbal battle of wills against each other.
'You shouldn't be so choosy when it comes to which bounties you'll take,' she'd said. 'You should be more of a team player' she'd said. 'Even with all my debts I manage to bring in more money than you,'
It wasn't true, he knew. They usually raked in an equal amount when it came to bounties, give or take a few woolongs. But unfortunately, Spike had already gotten a few drinks in his system – feeling a bit tipsy and not to mention a bit pissed. Pissed at the few thousand woolongs that had slipped through his fingers, pissed at all the damned whining about debt and bills and shit. Not to mention pissed at Faye and himself in general. She'd been so close up to him, in his face, and with his control gradually slipping...
The attraction had always been there, but the memory of Julia had managed to keep it at bay. But now, she was gone and Faye – damn her – Faye remained. He had wanted to hit her, wanted to hate her, wanted to take her in his arms and hold her and tell her all the things he been meaning to tell her but never had the guts to because he was too busy waiting to die.
Still, the middle of a crowded bar was not the ideal place to let down his boundaries, and since the booze was not helping quell any of the feelings that were on their way to reaching the breaking point, he'd said the first thing that came to mind to get her out of his face. Too bad it happened to be the wrong thing...
'Well, if you want more money, then do something about it. Maybe we'd all be happier if we just started pimping you out – after all, you already look the part.'
Jet, ever the sensible one, hadn't even had the chance to head off the carnage. After all, they'd both expected her to get mad. That was what usually happened anyway. Spike assumed she'd yell and scream, maybe cause a scene so that he could drag her out the building and shut her up with a kiss (even Spike was not without a few romantic notions). Maybe then he could give in to all the voices and pent-up emotions building up inside of him. Maybe there could be something between the two of them...
He hadn't expected her to deck him. Nor had he expected the tears that had sprung up in her widening eyes as the wretched words fell from his lips.
He'd hurt her. Badly. Never had he seen such a sight; he'd seen Faye upset before – in pain from an injury, depressed by Whitney and her lack of memories, confused by the beta tape, but never this. Spike never imagined he would be the one to make Faye Valentine cry.
And damn it if he didn't feel like shit for it...
~~~
Fortunately, it didn't take long to find her. Following the signal from her communicator, he'd tracked her down to the outskirts of town, beyond the floating plants hovering over the cities. Here there was nothing but craggy rocks and scorching deserts as far as the eye could see.
Her zip craft was only a few meters away from where he landed – within the shade of an overhang of rocks. Walking a short distance, he was stopped a small stone zipped past his face, skipping off into the hot sands.
She tossed another into the air, letting the piece of metal held in her hands swing around in a swift motion before it connected with a loud 'CRACK', flying off into the distance.
Spike let out a breath that could have been construed as a chuckle or a sigh. "You hit pretty hard." He remarked.
Faye paused, before sending another stone into the air, watching as it landed and went skipping across the sand. Easing out of her batting stance, she let the stick she was holding rest against her shoulder. Upon closer inspection, Spike realized it was an old bat – the paint and lettering had faded away, leaving the semi-polished metal to stand the test of time alone. The way she held it – it was almost as if it had been a prized possession of hers.
"I loved baseball," she remarked. "I was pretty good too, I think... managed to get a softball scholarship in college. I remember, as a little kid, playing with dad all the time when he had the time..." She trailed off, her words softly carried away by the sandy winds.
Her memories still hadn't been completely restored. Since his recovery, he'd noticed that every once in a while, she'd re-experience one. He could only look on as her eyes took on a faraway look, her mind disappearing momentarily. Spike could only wait until the Faye he knew would gradually return.
He didn't like feeling so helpless.
Faye's eyes cleared and Spike locked his gaze with hers. "You're good."
"I'm good at a lot of things," she replied neutrally. "Running, playing cards, selling my body for money..."
He cringed. "Faye..."
"What?" She looked at him. "You think I don't know how people see me? You think I woke up one day and decided this is what I wanted to look like – what I wanted to be?" She clenched the bat tightly in her hands.
"Look, I just..."
"Well, that's it then, right? How 'bout it then, Spike?" She stepped towards him, her bat held low in her hands, her voice taunting him. "How 'bout we go back to that bar? I'm sure somebody's got some cash they've got to burn. I'm sure I can show'em what a good time really is... with you running the show, of course."
He was getting uneasy now, but he willed himself not to show it. Faye was just trying to get a rise out of him after all, wasn't she? "Look, Faye," he replied. "I didn't mean to say that..."
"Didn't you?" she shot back. "Isn't that how you see me? Look at me..." She spread her arms out, the vinyl material of her top shifting with the movement. "Don't I look like a whore? Act like one?"
Spike looked away. There was a strange glint in her eye that was a bit off. The two of them were teetering on the edge of something... something Spike wasn't sure he was ready for.
"But you don't know what it's like, do you, Spike? How would you know?" Her voice was soft, but her eyes were watching him as a hunter would its prey; emerald green shining like fire. "You're the kind of guy that sees something he wants and has the guts to go right up and take it directly – no matter what the risks..."
Of course she would drag up his ill-fate tryst with Julia. He didn't blame her. However, where that would once spur him to retaliate – he had held Julia in such reverence, like a goddess – now he had long since put that behind him. Julia was no longer the woman who held so much power over him – that woman was now standing in front of him with a steel bat in her hand...
"The rest of us – the ones like me, at least – we have to find other ways to get by," she replied. "We have to be crafty, sneaky. We have to lie, cheat, steal... sell whatever it is that we own... whatever it is they want take." Her eyes lost that hard, manic edge and took on that faraway expression once again. With an exhalation of breath, she sat down in the sand.
Slowly, Spike lowered himself down next to her, staring off into the desert. Fishing into his jacket, he pulled out a cigarette and lit it with his trusty Zippo lighter.
"Did you..." Faye glanced at him briefly. "How many times did you have to...?"
"That..." she replied harshly. "Is none of your damn business."
Spike let out a laugh, but it was forced. "Y'know," he replied. "You're not the only person to ever have to do something you were ashamed of."
She scoffed at him. "Don't give me that shit." She remarked. "You sell your body a few times to keep debt collectors from putting a bullet in your head and then come back to me. Maybe then I'll be more inclined to start up a pity part with you."
Her words left a weird feeling in his chest, but he ignored it. "Fair enough." Relenting, he shrugged, taking another puff of his cigarette. "But you don't do it anymore..."
"Shut the hell up – I never said I was ashamed!" Her eyes said differently though. "I do what I have to do to get by... but I will never do that again – ever." She looked away from him. "Even if that means I can't do what I want."
The more he remained next to her, the harder he found to maintain the 'don't give a damn' attitude. After all, the woman had pretty much bared her soul to him. She hadn't gotten all mopey and weepy like women tended to do; she'd thrown it in his face in a 'take-it-or-leave-it' fashion that only she could exhibit with such grace.
To him, Faye was amazing.
He took another puff of his cigarette, trying to hold onto what little control he had left. "I'll make sure you don't have to go through that again," he replied softly.
She frowned at him. "I don't want your protection."
"What do you want then?"
Faye turned towards him, surprise etched on her face as if she were seeing him for the first time. Gradually, her expression turned into a smirk. "What do you care?"
He only shrugged. "I wanted to know." He replied. "Seeing since I seem to be the master of taking things I want, I figured I'd help you out."
She remained silent a moment before moving closer towards him. After a few seconds, she was kneeling in front of him, watching him intently. "I don't need your help."
He just shrugged. Did she know how dark her eyes got when she was focused? "Okay."
"Or your pity."
Her skin, clear and pale, was flawless. Was it as soft to the touch as it looked? "Okay."
"Or your frickin' sympathy."
How could he have not noticed how beautiful she was? Another shrug. "Okay."
Silence fell upon them, remaining until Faye cursed softly under her breath. Without a warning, she grabbed the lapels of Spike's jacket, pressing her lips against his as firmly as she could muster.
For a few seconds, Spike could only blink, hardly believing what was happening. As the sensation of her lips against his flooded through his body, his control slipped and he found himself soon returning her kiss with equal fervor. The one kiss soon became many and as he pulled her closer, he succeeded in losing his balance and sending them both toppling over into the dirt.
They broke away from each other, their eyes locking. Despite the heat coursing through his system, and the feather-light kisses she began laying across his neck, Spike found himself speaking calmly. "Is this...." She paused, looking back up at him. "What you need...?"
Her green eyes were gleaming as she answered, "It's what I want...what I've wanted for a long time." She cocked her head to the side. "Am I wrong for taking this...? Are you giving this to me?"
Spike smirked. "Hell if I know," He brought his hands up to her face, running his fingers through her hair. It was surprisingly soft. "This is real, right?" His hands trailed down her face to her neck, to her shoulders, further down her body. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the crook of her neck. "Is this what it feels like to be alive, Faye?"
"I want it to be," she answered, exhaling shakily. "God, I want it to be." She pulled away, staring into his eyes. "Am I real to you, Spike?"
"You always have been," he replied, a smile making its way across his face. "And you always will be.
Faye looked at him quietly, weighing his words as she studied his features. Then, after placing her hands on his shoulders, she too, smiled.
~End
Author's Notes - God, I love writing while listening to music. Right now, I'm listening to Puddle of Mudd's 'Already Gone' from their new album, "Life on Display". It's a very good album, and they are a very good band. In fact, their earlier single, "Control", as this piece is also entitled, spurred me to write this. One really has nothing to do with the other, but then again, this fic has very little plot.
But all that aside, I hope it was still enjoyable... despite the fact that it made no sense... Like I said before, I will now be focusing more attention on my next multi-chap fic, "Just Another Burnt Out Star". Keep a look out for it and updates for my other works.
Ja ne! and remember the 3 R's of Fanfiction...
Reading
Writing
Reviewing... =)