Hey peeps! Remember Accidents? Well, I'm back, but with a darker plot. Unfortunately, I wrote this story a long time ago, and I have no idea what to do with it. If you have any ideas or you just wanna go ahead and write another chapter, e-mail me. Well, I hope you enjoy what I have!

Disclaimer: I don't own Cowboy Bebop. If I did, would Spike be dead? No, I think not.

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As always, the streets of Tharsis were as busy as a beehive. There were people moving in all directions, shoving into you from all sides, trying to reach their destinations. But there was one man in the crowd that didn't seem to be in a hurry, yet knew exactly where he was going. He seemed oblivious to all the other people around him, as he casually crossed the street and entered a little cafe by the name of Return to Sarajavo.

The man was clad in a dark brown trench coat, and a matching hat that cast a shadow over his face, making him unrecognizable. He made his way up to the counter, and ordered a large, black coffee. As the blonde teenager filled the paper cup, he murmured some words to her. She nodded, and pointed to a table off in the dark corner. The man thanked her, paid for his coffee, and slowly made his way to the table.

Already seated at this table was a woman, dressed in all black with purple hair and long legs. She seemed engrossed in a book that lay on the table next to her mocha, but if one were to look close enough, they would see her green eyes following the man as he passed next to the table, and seated himself across from her. He reached into the inside pocket of his coat and produced a small pack of sugar.

"Still use your own sugar?" she questioned, still not looking up from her book.

"If some one tried to kill you by poisoning your sugar, you'd bring your own sugar too," he said defensively, before opening the packet and dumping it into the dark brew.

"How did you find me?" she said, finally looking up from her book. Of course she of all people would recognize him.

"Easy. This is the last place I would have thought of," he retorted, smirking at her from under his sunglasses. She observed that even after two years, he still hadn't changed. His black beard still reminded her of a bear's, the nose still too large for his face, and a scar over his right eye. She would have betted all her money that he was still bald under his hat, and that his left arm was still a robotic replacement.

"Why?"

"Because, I remembered that you hated small coffee shops-"

"No. I mean, why did you want to find me?" she said, her green eyes begging him for an answer. It had been two years since the two of them made that pact to never work together again.

The man frowned at her question. "Something's come up," he said, his voice dropping considerably in volume.

"What?" she said, leaning forward, wondering what was so important that would cause him to break the pact that he proposed.

"I can't explain here," he said, standing up. He grabbed his coffee, and placed his other hand on her shoulder. "If you're an hour late, I'll assume you're not coming," he said, before sauntering out of the shop. She looked on her shoulder, and saw a piece of paper neatly folded into a triangle balancing on her shoulder. She reached up and grabbed it, hiding it in the palm of her hand. She looked around, making sure no one was watching her. She unfolded the paper, and quickly read it, before tearing it into shreds and stuffing what was left of the note into her pocket. She stood up, placed her book in her bag, and threw her cup away on her way out.


Faye,

I have hard evidence that suggests that Spike is still alive, and is being held captive by the remnants of the syndicate.

I need your help to get him back. You're the only who can help me. Meet me at the Blue Docking Bay tomorrow, at 0500 hours. I don't know how long we'll be gone. Count on six months at the least.

This mission is dangerous, and one of us will most likely end up dead afterwards.

Just like old times, eh?

-Jet Black