'The last time Red Dragon had anything on Callisto it was a Red-Eye exchange with Vicious and those local gangsters by the docks in Shuto City, where Lin shot me with that tranquilliser in the back alley.'

Spike was pacing up and down the living space, his brow furrowed. Jet sat updating the telecommunication device from his Hammerhead on the steps, his posture evidently irate as Spike had insisted he remain in the living space for the discussion rather than retreat to his workshop. Miniscule screws and cogs lay scattered in haphazard order on the floor around him and every now and then he would grunt or sigh exasperatedly as he persisted in his work despite the inconvenient environment. Ed sat cross-legged on the floor next to him, careful not to disturb him yet watching his progress with a curious fixation. Every now and then, Jet would hold out a screwdriver for her to mind when he needed both hands to keep a nut in place, and she would hand it back when he wordlessly asked, always pleased to help. Faye lounged contentedly on the sofa on her front, apathetically perusing a magazine whilst painting her fingernails a violent purple. Spike smoked while he paced, the other hand buried characteristically in his pocket.

'So we should go there for starters,' finished Spike with conviction.

'I liked it better when you were lazy,' grumbled Jet.

'No, it's good this way,' said Faye absently. 'Less for me to do. But I have to ask, why are we going after these Red Dragon nobodies if there's no bounty?'

'It's the principle,' said Spike firmly. 'Red Dragon should have been finished when Vicious and the Van were killed.'

'Oh, so it's a pride thing…'

'You don't have to help if you don't want to.'

'Oh I know, I wasn't planning on it.' She blew dismissively on her wet fingernails, rounding the edges with her thumb before holding them back to deliberate the extent of their symmetry.

'I can't do this,' said Jet exasperatedly, and he got to his feet to gather up the parts of his telecommunicator. 'I'm going to the workshop, you two figure it out.'

'Can Ed help? Please, please, please?' Ed asked eagerly, looking up in admiration at Jet's hulking figure.

Jet's brow furrowed, sizing her up, before he nodded resolutely and headed down the corridor with the girl at his heels.

Faye ignored the tension that sparked up in the room as soon as Jet and Ed were out of sight, continuing to focus on her fingernails for some occupation. From the corner of her eye she could see that Spike had stopped pacing and sat down facing her but she refused the desire to look up.

'Come with me,' he said suddenly, without a hint of hesitation. 'Jet's busy with his own shit and I'll need backup.'

Faye raised her eyebrows, crossing her ankles in the air behind her.

'What will I get out of it?' she inquired lightly, denying the immediate "yes" that sprang to her lips.

'The pleasure of my company?' he said, half-hopefully half-sarcastically. 'C'mon, this is important to me.'

'Well, money is important to me,' Faye replied, biting her lip and carefully touching up the edge of her pinky nail.

'Alright, alright, I'll go on my own,' said Spike, admitting defeat.

He got to his feet and leaned forward to butt his cigarette in the ash tray on the table. Almost as though it was an instinctual reaction, Faye looked up to see him peering lusciously at her through his fringe.

'I'll call if I need you,' he smirked, then straightened up and left the living room.

As soon as he was gone, Faye rolled over onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, feeling completely breathless. This was it, this was her chance. He would get to Shuto City docks and call her and she would go and they would find the remnants of Red Dragon together and once they succeeded, Spike, flushed with satisfaction at his personal success, would take her in his euphoria. She didn't allow herself reservations or "what ifs" or "buts".

She folded her arms onto her side and sat up dazedly, her heart pounding in her chest at odds with her suddenly static thoughts. It was as though now she had resolved herself onto the one option she knew she would settle on from the beginning, there was no backing out; there were no doubts now that she had committed herself.

Faye got to her feet and stepped slowly across the floor, bare-footed, to the little round window by the corridor door.

The red surface of Mars, dappled by artificial rivers and lakes, was rounded miles beneath the Bebop. All of those people busied by their own lives and personal concerns were insignificant next to Spike. Why him? She had no idea. She had spent so long denying herself the one dominant desire of her heart but now that she had resolved to fulfil it, a strange kind of peace had filled her being. The stratosphere had never looked so beautiful.

'Hey.'

Faye looked over to her right to see Spike standing only a few feet away by the entrance to the corridor. She had been so absorbed by her own musings that she hadn't realised his approach, and she was startled to see him there so close. He was about to speak but then a strange look crossed his face and the words seemed to catch in his mouth; he paused, his lips silently parted. His expression suddenly shifted from casual inquiry to a mixture of surprise and confusion. A silent spark of tension was exchanged between them, intensified as Spike noticed the two moons, Deimos and Phobos, simultaneously reflected in her eyes. He frowned slightly in response to this unexpected emotion.

'What?' she asked.

'Do you know where Jet put my Jericho?'

She shook her head and he quickly strode away, across the room and down the corridor opposite. Faye watched him go, completely bewildered.

'What was that all about?' she muttered to herself.

Her extremities seemed electric with anticipation as she fell onto her bed, watching the memory of Spike's face, that look in his eyes that seemed to mirror hers, shimmer across the vision of her mind's eye. Look at how involved you are, Faye, she told herself furiously. Look at how much you need him! This can only turn out badly…

But she shoved these thoughts aside to regret later once she returned to that dingy bar on Mars, which she inevitably would after she got rejected, and dressed slowly in those token yellow hot pants and shirt to await the call she knew Spike would make in a couple of hours.