DISCLAIMER: I don't own Cowboy Bebop.

Well, hello there. I've done some work writing for other series but this is my first time writing for Cowboy Bebop. This was supposed to be a birthday present for myself (Aug 12) and break back into writing again but the servers wouldn't let me login, oh well.

Please enjoy,

Days like This

Its days like this that make me think of her the most. Days were its grey and cloudy with drizzles of icy rain. It reminds me of her. Its days like this were cold wind shoots through your clothing, like daggers puncturing right down to the bone, making your body feel like a sack of bones.

It makes me think of her, the way her small crimsons lips and a glisten of blonde curls makes you feel like… a droopy sack of bones. Every time. Days like this make your body (and even mind) feel raw and toughened as you gather your scarf more tightly around your neck or perhaps turn your head out of those daggers.

It's so unlike the feeling of her.

All these unpleasantness seem to surround you on days like this just like it was back then, but like a warm fire, she invited me in and surrounded me with warmth.

Cold patches of sunlight break through the clouds now and then making everything look pale and it reminds me of her knees.

On days like this no one sits outside. Outdoor patios in front of these martian cafes lay empty, the streets are barren except of cars.

However, on days not like this, we would sit outside and enjoy a cup of coffee and listen to the blues, played by a one-eyed man scrounging for tips. I can still remember how the light always seemed to fall on her knees. She'd wear a skirt and she'd sit outside sipping her coffee and I'd always join her after 'business' and watch the shadows come and go on her pale but beautiful legs. They were always smooth and creamy white. She was so tough but yet her naked legs seemed weak and frail and I just wanted to hug her and protect her. Her red lips would part and she would smile at me as I touched her exposed legs but her eyes… were always sad. They never seemed to smile the way her lips always seemed to around me. Even as they touched mine.

It's sad but peaceful days like this that make me think of her eyes the most. The way you can look at these grey wet streets and empty plastic chairs and see nothing but grey wet streets and empty plastic chairs; or; you could see the glistens of light shine on sparkly peddles or watch the ripples on puddles forming.

I grimace as I walk past a flower shop and see a barrel of roses. Raindrops slide down the dark red petals like tears drops.

Teardrops that just won't come to my dark mismatched eyes anymore.

But that's beside the point. On days like this you can't think of girls or flowers or crying. I'm walking down this street on Mars where small cafes line the left and tall reflective office buildings line the right. On days like this my trench coat does more than just shelter me from the rain as I walk these streets to get to the bounty's location.

An unconscious glance to the right and I see me walking. Blue trousers stick out of a light trench coat with a mass of curly hair on top. Long strides. It shows I have a purpose, but who'd suggest I'd be on a mission to capture another human?

What an awful way to make a living, I suppose. Treating other humans like nothing more than a pesky cow. But you have to not think of them as people, in fact, I fine not thinking and going with my impulses just as effective and twice as fun.

Who should I be to judge what is right or wrong. Everything about me is wrong from my mismatched eyes to my too short pants to my bloody past.

But nah, it's not like me to obsess at all over my past. After all, I'm just Spike the cowboy, a lovable stray who just wants to earn an honest living protecting people of the universe against these criminals who have disobeyed the precious law.

Didn't buy it, did you?

I know with my past history my career choices are limited. But that isn't the only reason I resent my past. It would have been so easy to escape that life if it wasn't for her. On days like this I am reminded of that. On days like this I am reminded of the graveyard. The roses. The gun.

But I push it out of my mind and I continue down the street. The buildings visibly get shabbier as I round a corner and walk down an alleyway. The puddles seem deeper here. The bottom of my pants are soaking wet already.

I pass a homeless man siting against a wall who seems to be eagerly eyeing my shoes. I pull my collar up higher and glare at the man. He has desperate eyes as water runs over the brim of his baseball cap.

Desperate searching eyes in this neighborhood remind me of past times. We owned a small but cozy apartment together and more than once she found me passed out on the front stoop, too weak to knock. Life was dangerous back then, life was Vicious.

All those times she nursed me back to health and yet… Julia causes me the greatest pain of all.

In my dreams I see her, I can taste her. She haunts me like a sad ghost and reminds me of a better time. We did what we needed to during the day and then spent the night as we wished in our rent controlled apartment on the south side of town.

I've bled all my vicious blood and I'm not as young as I used to be, I've given up my old crime life but still I yearn for her. Julia is my sun, she gives me my warmth and brightens up my day. My life revolves around her.

I give the man some money but keep my shoes for myself.

I continue down the alley and come out onto a sidewalk again but on a different road with different kinds of shops and pubs. On days like this I need to focus, delusions of grandeur don't help. My mind needs to be on the up coming fight, not in some daydream of a racy red sport car with my darling by my side as we whip down a country road.

What have I got by staying with the Bebop? I could earn so much more by myself.

Up ahead I can see the pub. Pale yellow light escapes from the windows, a flickering 'OPEN' sign barely illuminates. I enter the room.

Small dark wood booths line the walls with a couple of hunched over patrons enjoying their drinks from the musty bar.

Jet will get over it; he'll know this is something I need to do. Faye… well as long as I don't raid the fridge before I leave I suppose she'll be fine. She's a real piece of work… or at least a piece of something…

All wood here seems to once have been dark chestnut but now everything's so worn out, complete with carvings and duct tape in every table. This whole place seems to be moody and strange from the mismatched lights overhead to the slightly too short barstools to the smell of blood, sweat and smoke here. This place makes me feel twitchy. It feels like even with a new coat of paint this place would still be a mess, but if someone new came along…

On the other side of the bar I see a familiar figure. I can see from here a graceful pale hand on a glass of brandy. Yellow leather hugs her slender hips and a red sweater is placed over her back but exposing enough skin to get anxious glances from all the males in the room. Her back is to me but I see those long legs crossed with a white boot taping the stool. A blue neon sign above her head gives stripes of her pale legs a blue tinge and a halo of blue around the crown of her head. It reminds me in a humorous way of a fragile angel, but I know better than to expect Faye to be anything but brash.

"Where the hell have to been?"

My point proven.

"Just enjoying the sites," I give her a smile.

"Yes, truly the time to explore Mars is on days like this."

"I see you've taken the liberality of ordering for me," I eye the empty glasses next to her.

I know she doesn't like me making fun of her, but yet it's so easy and I get a satisfaction from watching her pout.

She purses her lips and raises her eye brows. A single piece of her violet hair falls over her eyes giving her a shy school girl look. She uncrosses her legs and raises her hand to the bartender for another drink.

Her left leg grazes mine and I can't help but look down. Long and slender, with a tint of blue just touching her knees, exposed and defenseless, unhidden from my prying eyes. I want to touch, to see if they're really as smooth as they seem.

I look up to her green eyes and see that they're watching me. Maybe a hint of confusion and then a sly smile?

My voice cracks, "I'm not-"

"Your drink, sir."

I look up and nod to the bartender, then back to Faye who's smiling at me like a two year old when trying to keep a secret.

"Oh please, that's the last thing on my mind." I pull out a cigarette and light it up. I'm not exactly so sure if it is anymore.

A moment of silence pass between us as I feel the warming effect of my brandy.

"What a day to be stuck in a dump town like this."

She breaks the tension.

"It's not that bad."

"Cold…wet…"

"But beautiful."

Once again that surprised look and I open my mouth, horrified that something else came out completely wrong. On days like this I just can't seem to think straight.

But she touches my arm and nods her head to the left, pointing to a man sitting a ways behind us. "That's him."

"Right."

She stands up and moves towards him, but before she reaches him she turns her head slightly and I catch her eye.

Eyes as defenseless as her knees.

Faye…she's a real piece of work. On days like this though, I suppose I can ...tolerate... her.

See You Space Cowboy

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That's all folks. What did you think?