Hello again! Purple Pirate Lex here, back with a vengeance! My third Bebop fanfiction is now underway! I want to thank everyone for your appreciation of my stories and attention span to get through them! The reviews I've been getting are awesome! Thank you all so very much for your support!

By the way, I realize that throughout the last two stories I've been misspelling "Woolong." It is indeed spelled with two O's and not a U. How come no one pointed that out to me? Oh well. Consider it officially corrected! I hope you enjoy my latest rendition of Shinichiro Watanabe's amazing and inspiring creation. (Didja catch that? It was my little disclaimer! Cowboy Bebop is his, not mine.) Have a ball!

Striped Cat

Faye Valentine sat idly on the cold metal floor of the Bebop, staring at the ceiling. She counted and stared at the dings and dents and scars left from the flying bullets of her Glock not long ago. Tears had subsided and numbness engulfed her small frame. She sat in the hallway, the cold corridor where she had last seen him.

As she pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them in place, Faye's mind began to wander. She had almost forgotten why she'd been sitting there for so long. All at once, the sound of uneven footsteps jarred her back to life, sending her heart leaping into her throat. Faye's head swirled on its pivot with hope and excitement. To her dismay, the sounds were from the thick boots and a crutch of a man with a large, muscular build and one cybernetic arm. Now she remembered.

"Faye," came Jet Black's raspy voice from above. It was calm and more soothing than she'd ever heard it. "You've been sitting here for quite some time," he spoke. Faye shifted her glance to spot him as he stood over her, his grey eyes filled with concern.

"Mm?" she mumbled her reply. She hadn't been listening to him.

"Almost four hours," the man continued. "Come on, I'll make you a bite to eat." Jet turned to leave, leaning heavily on his crutch, but stopped when he realized that Faye had not moved. He looked at her, resting his free hand on his hip.

"Has it really only been four hours, Jet?" she sadly asked, her voice just above a whisper. Jet nodded his answer, but she had buried her face in her folded arms before she could see him. "It just doesn't seem possible," she continued, speaking more to herself than to Jet. The bald man strained to hear her muffled voice. "You can't miss someone so much in just four hours." As her sentence came to a close, she felt her emerald eyes prickling, her throat painfully throbbing as a hard sob threatened to spring forth.

Jet raised his cybernetic arm to rub his bare head. His face displayed a look of anguish and confusion. He looked down at the woman again, cautiously hobbling toward her once more. He wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't exactly sure how. He knew that he could definitely say something that he wasn't quite sure might trigger more pain.

Faye lifted her head, revealing her shiny green eyes, their glittering emphasized by pools of teardrops that reflected what little light there was. "Just when I was starting to get used to all this," she sniffled, her voice warbling. "To accept this as my only place to call… a home," she hesitated, her green orbs scanning the Bebop around her. Jet listened, taken aback by her magnificent eyes. "He just had to leave," she finally finished, the puddles in her eyes overflowing, leaving salty droplets on her cheeks and forearms. Her body trembled with a sob.

Jet carefully descended next to the weeping woman, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. He felt her body shudder as he touched her. After a long pause, he spoke. "It was something that had to be done," he said quietly. "You might not understand it… hell, I don't understand it." He stared straight ahead, absentmindedly stroking her smooth skin with the length of his thumb. "That guy was always as cryptic as a hieroglyph," he sighed. Both of them flinched at his words. Past tense. It seemed to be a confirmation of death.

"It's so empty," Faye's voice cooed sorrowfully. She buried her face again, fighting against more tears. Jet breathed a deep sigh, supplying his own interpretation as to exactly what she meant. He gave Faye's shoulder one last rub before reaching for the crutch lying beside him. Steadying the contraption, he heaved himself up again, grimacing from the pain that shot through his left thigh. Steadying himself against the wall, he looked down at Faye again. He was somewhat relieved that he couldn't see her eyes anymore. He had never seen her cry before that day and frankly, he didn't like it one bit. He reached down, hesitantly stroking her violet hair before leaving her in peace.

"You know where to find me," he said slowly. He leaned heavily on his crutch as he turned to hobble away.

Sitting on the old yellow couch, Jet relaxed into the cushions, elevating his injured leg on the coffee table. He grunted as he leaned forward to reach the remote for the vid screen. He looked at the screen, examining it for a few seconds. He noticed the large dent in the frame, rubbing his head as he remembered where it had come from. A reluctant chuckle ground itself from his throat. Brute force really doesn't solve everything, he thought nostalgically. He found himself wishing harder and harder that he hadn't had to give such advice.

Jet rested his head on the back of the sofa with a heavy sigh. He would never admit it, but he needed comforting now as much as Faye did. He began to wonder where Edward had run off to. She was the only one on the ship who could always make him smile. At least inwardly. He even missed the cold, wet sensation of Ein's shiny black nose nuzzling his right arm. The dog knew when he was needed.

But most of all, he was already beginning to miss Spike. It had been nearly four hours since he and Faye had last seen him. He wondered: how could the Bebop lose three of its crewmembers all at once? It just didn't seem right. It didn't seem fair. Even before Ein and Faye and Edward became additions to the ship, he and Spike had been comrades for three years. And now he found himself with an even deeper void than there would have been otherwise. Jet clicked on the television and rubbed his bare head, as if trying to clear unwanted thoughts. I wonder what's on, he thought.

Whad'ja think? There's lots more to come, so stick around!