It never fails, the second you submit your work for public ridicule, you find a million and one mistakes... anyway, I felt compelled to fix most of these atrocities, so this version, while almost exactly like the original, only with fewer typos and redundancy, reads a little better.

If I owned Cowboy Bebop, would I be writing fanfiction? No, so I don't.



Searching for a Miracle

Faye stared out on the ocean, from the deck of the Bebop. She'd been quietly contemplating for what felt like hours. A steady breeze blew over her, but despite the short-sleeved, low-backed dress she wore, she wasn't cold at all. She only shivered as she felt a hand on her naked back. She closed her eyes, inhaling his cologne, but she didn't turn around
She hadn't heard him come up behind her, but she knew who would meet her eyes when she turned. That's why she kept them shut tightly. It hurt too much to look.
"You look lovely tonight."
It felt so right, here, with him, on the deck of the Bebop, but...
"Is something wrong?"
The familiar voice was like a dagger through her heart. Spike. How could she say it? How could she tell him the words, she'd love him so long... A tear traced a path down her cheek, and he turned her to face him.
Familiar features... killing her with regret.
"What is it?"
The sea breeze tousled her hair playfully, but she didn't feel very playful.
"I'm sorry, It's just..." she lost her nerve.
"What is it?" he repeated.
Faye toyed with a ring on her right hand. "I can't see you anymore." She turned away from him again. "You just aren't what I need."
"What are you talking about?"
"I have to, I can't keep going on like this anymore."
"Faye, I love you, don't go..."
Faye closed her eyes again, trying to stop the tears that threatened to drown her. If only that were true, but Spike had never loved her, the attraction had been all one-sided. The only person he'd ever loved was Julia. Not that she could blame him, Julia was a sweet, kind woman, and Faye... wasn't. How could he love her? "Spike..." she whispered, but he was no longer there, none of it was, the Bebop, the sea, the breeze... all had already dissolved into pith blackness as she slid the VR unit from her head.
"Lights," the overhead lights came on, showering the room with reality. She sat there, for a moment, gathering her wits about her. No she wasn't with Spike anymore, hadn't been for almost four years, and she never would be again.
She was in the penthouse of her Europa apartment, staring at her 3,000 wulong couch, blue glass coffee table, torchiere floor lamps and tasteful wall hangings.
She slid the VR unit across the floor, under the coffee table. She wouldn't use it again, not ever. She had a reputation as the galaxy's best bounty hunter, she had carved out a life for herself, and she was in a relationship with a wonderful man who was a hell of a lot nicer to her than... than... No, she stopped herself short, no, she wasn't just in a relationship, she was engaged. He'd asked her to marry him over dinner the night before... that's why she'd gone into VR today, to bury the past, so she could move on with her future.
The buzz of an incoming call on her videophone roused her from her reverie.
"Yeah?" she asked answering the call.
"Faye? What's wrong, Honey, you look drained."
Faye looked into the concerned face before her. John... good old John. He absolutely adored her, she knew, but... did she really want to be adored? She knew she should, she had agreed to marry him because she knew she should, but, truth be told, she wasn't very enthusiastic about the match. Maybe it was just some perverse desire she had to cause herself pain that drew her to men like...
"...Faye, Faye...HEY!"
"Huh... yeah." She snapped back into focus and laughed nervously. "Sorry dear," the word seemed foreign in her mouth, "it's been quite a morning."
"What'd you do, doll?"
"Soaps and bon bons, you know me." She covered. She'd never told him about her virtual life, he didn't know.
"So what time should I be over tonight?"
"Actually, I have a business meeting in 45 minute, and I'm not sure how long it will take, so I'm afraid I have to cancel on you."
"But this was supposed to be a celebration dinner."
"I'm sorry, I've got business, hon, you know how it is... anyway, I've still got to get ready, so I'll talk to you tomorrow morning. We can meet for breakfast."
He agreed, although reluctantly, and hung up.
Faye sat there for a minute, lacking the strength to stand. She finally forced herself to get moving with the thought that she had to get ready for her meeting. She walked down a hallway lined with pictures to her room. As she reached the end of the hall, she turned the last picture toward the wall. It was an 8x10 of herself and the rest of the bebop crew. She just couldn't look at it right now.
Faye entered her room and went straight to her closet, pushing past a pair of gold hot pants with a smile. Reaching instead for a black cat suit. She pulled on a semi-tight burgundy sweater and a pair of matching boots, and gave herself a once over in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy and red, but she had half an hour before the meeting, plenty of time for her features to return to normal.
She was a little nervous about this meeting, this wasn't an official bounty, the bounty placer hadn't put it on the open market yet. She'd gotten a call at an hour when all decent people should be asleep, and a strange voice had told her to meet him behind the Coconut Club, a disco on the east side.
She felt like too much was happening at once and wished, not for the first time, that she could just slow things down... She'd feel better when she was on the road again.
Away from John and his proposal, away from bustling friends, excited over the impending matrimonial services, and most importantly, away from all her thoughts of the past.

The alley was dark and smelled of stale beer and human waste. The bar out front wasn't much better, though. Not from what Faye'd seen anyway. The Coconut Club was a hang out for doped up frat kids, and teens with fake Ids. The only saving grace was that tonight was oldies night, and the pulse pounding sounds of Nine Inch Nails could be felt straight through the brick wall she leaned against.
She tapped her foot in rhythm, and waited.
She dropped her spent cigarette to the pavement, where it met a growing pile of its associates, and ground it into the cement with the heel of her boot. Her client was late, and she was almost out of cigarettes. She turned to go.
A footfall behind her. She tensed, reaching for her gun?
"Ms. Valentine, I presume?"
She turned toward the source of the voice, a dark figure highlighted by the neon of the club signs. "You're late." She said dryly.
"My apologies, miss, I assure you, it was unavoidable. Now if you'd just follow me, my employer is waiting to see you."
She shrugged and placed another cigarette between her lips. "Got a light, Jeeves?"
"My name is Randy,"
"Whatever."
She moved forward and lit her cigarette off the antique Zippo he proffered. "Nice," she commented. "Haven't seen one of those in a while."
The man smiled with pride, "It was a gift from my employer. Now, we really must be going, the car is just around the corner."
Faye followed him to an old style Rolls Royce idling in the middle of the street. "Your boss has a real thing for antiques, I see?" Randy didn't reply, but opened the door and motioned for her to hop in.
She obliged, sliding from the well-lit street into the cavernous darkness of the Rolls. She could smell cigar smoke, thick and sweet in the air, and hear the faint rustle of silk as her companion shifted in his seat, but it took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the dim light.
"Ah... Miss Valentine, I trust you are well."
As the driver opened the front door, entering the car, a narrow beam of light cut through the darkness, falling on the face of her prospective client.
Faye held her breath for a split-second. It was a face that she recognized, even if she didn't know it well. It was the face of the leader of the Red Dragons. The one that had taken over after Vicious' death... and Spike's... Faye shook her head, casting those thoughts away.
"Mister Kataki, I'm surprised to find that you are my new client... I was under the impression that the Red Dragons didn't hire outside help."
"Not usually, but under the circumstances..."
"And what circumstances would those be?"
"I have a little problem that needs to be taken care of, but it needs to be kept quiet... it's something that concerns you as well, in a way."
"How quite?" She asked.
Kataki smiled. "Randy, pull the car over."
"Yes sir," the driver obliged.
"Thank you," Mr. Kataki pulled out his gun and a second later, the front seat interior was in dire need of an upholstery cleaner. He blew his smoking gun as Randy's lifeless body slumped over the steering wheel. "That quiet."
Faye seemed unfazed "How much?"
"30 million, cash. The only condition is that you keep it silent until you find what I want."
"And just what is that?"
Kataki put his cigar out, and leaned forward. "Three years ago, Spike Spiegel, with whom, as I understand it, you were acquainted, killed Vicious, that would have made him leader of the Red Dragons, but then he went and died on us too." Faye felt sick... Kataki sounded so matter of fact. "I came out on top of the ensuing power struggle, but my hold on the position was tenuous, and still is. But as long as a better candidate doesn't show up, things will be fine."
"So what's the problem? There's no one left alive to oppose you."
He smiled sardonically, "exactly."
"I'm afraid I don't follow."
"Well, what I'm about to tell you is information that only my most trusted advisors have been privy to. There is no body in Spike's grave."
Faye choked, dropping her long forgotten, cigarette from her nerveless fingers. "What?"
"The body turned up missing before the embalming, just vanished." He lit another cigar. "Naturally, this sort of thing can't be kept secret forever, and soon word tricked down through the ranks. So far, it's just an unconfirmed rumor, but considering Spike's track record, people are understandably hopeful." There was a long pause as he puffed on his cigar. "Even then," he continued, "it wouldn't be a problem except for the sightings."
"Sightings?" Faye asked, trying to calm her thoughts when they were spinning like a top. She didn't want to think about Spike, or his death, not anymore, not when she'd just decided to move on... why had Mr. Kataki even asked her to help him.
"Every once in a while, I'll hear a report that another of my men has seen Spike alive and well... I find this very disturbing."
Faye's head was whirling, could it be possible...? No, no, it had to be a lie.
"I hardly need to tell you how detrimental such reports are, with my leadership already in such a precarious position."
"And you want me to quell these rumor." Faye felt like she was going to be ill.
"Exactly," he smiled like a hyena to lunch. "I want you to find Spike's missing body and keep this whole thing quiet while you do. I want definite proof of Spikes demise."
"Why should I help you?"
"If the rumors are true... would you rather my henchmen be the one to find him?"
If the rumors are true... What was he saying? That there was a possibility?
He upped his offer, "one thousand Wulongs a day, plus expenses, and 30 million when you find the body."
"I don't want a daily fee, it's too much like being on the syndicate payroll, but I do want expenses, plus 50 million upon completion." Part of her hoped he'd tell her to go to hell, keeping her from making the decision.
"50 million? You must be joking... okay, but only because I have a weakness for perfectly preserved antiques and beautiful women."
"It's settled then."
He tossed her a folder. "This is all the information we have on it right now, including the location of the last known sighting. You better get moving, if you want to find him."
"It's been a pleasure Mr. Kataki," she lied, opening her door and sliding back under the streetlights. She could hear him on the phone calling for another driver as she closed the door.
A chill traveled up her spine and came to nestle in the base of her neck.
Spike Spiegel, alive? Yeah right... right?