Authoress: Michelle C.

Date: June 24, 2003

Series: Cowboy Bebop

Disclaimers: If you really want disclaimers, why don't you just read my other fics? They all have them -.-;

Note: Sorry it took so long to update. It's been summer and this is only my 4th writing piece. Sad… Also, I have no idea how much a woolong is (if that's even how you spell it) but I mean to write it so that 1 million is very little and 20 billion to be a whole lot (if it really isn't).

A Place Where I Belong Chapter 2 Women

            "Faye-Faye!" shouted Ed as she bounced into the Bebop, face in a full grin. "Faye-Faye, Faye-Faye! Where is Faye-Faye? Did Ein see Faye-Faye somewheres?" She held her arms out like the wings of an airplane and swooped at the young Corgi who was lying "somewheres" in the kitchen. "Is Faye-Faye somewheres? Faye-Faye!" she called when she reached Ein. "Faye-Faye no here, ooh-la-la," she said as she grabbed the whimpering dog and swung him around a few times.

"Hey, Faye! Come here!" Jet said as he and Spike stepped out of the darkness of the falling night into the slightly, better lit "living room" of the Bebop. "Where is that woman?" he asked to no one in particular as he walked into the ship's small kitchen to turn on the light. He dropped the groceries on the counter and started on their dinner.

            Spike just smiled and sat down on the old, ugly, and disgustingly yellow couch. It was a good night out and he had enjoyed himself, watching Ed and Jet's antics, but still felt if as he missed something. The moment he reached the Bebop, he realized what it was and he smirked upon entering, almost disbelievingly, but in a soft, wistful way.

He whacked his shoe against the computer that doubled as a television. At first, all that it had on the transparent screen was static; another kick to the side soon fixed it.

Big Shot was on and Spike, who was still slightly daydreaming, vaguely noticed what was on when suddenly something caught his eye. 'Was that—" he thought before giving one hundred and twenty percent of his attention to the bounty hunting show. He strained to pay attention to any details that would have confirmed what he had thought he saw and heard on a show a few seconds ago.

"Yes, it's true, amigos and amigas. Earlier today, an attempted murder was reported by a young man at a bar," said the cowboy as his annoyingly blonde assistant feigned a gasp and threw her hands to her face in an overdramatic way. "It is reported that this young woman—yes, young woman—is armed and dangerous. We have no current picture of this gal, but the young man who offered a small sum of one million reward for her safe capture gave us some information."

"Yes," said the blonde in her high-pitched voice. "Now, let's see…" she paused and read something from a piece of paper. "Ah, yes. The man said that the lady had a dark violet-colored hair, was wearing a bright matching yellow tank top and shorts, and had a slightly darker yellow headband. She is said to be around 5'5" and looked around the age of 26. She also had on yellow boots. Oh," the blonde continued shrilling, "and the suspect is also suppose to have dark green eyes and very pale skin. That's all the information that was given to us." She laughed and called the camera's attention back to the man.

"Yes. She was last spotted at the Ruby Rose's grand reopening. That was the place that was closed down because of a past shootout, you know. The young man said he offered to buy her a drink and she refused with tears and a gun! Now, that's one unstable chica. So now this mysterious, purple-haired broad has a one-mill reward on her pretty head. Small, yes, but if you're up for a challenge, go for it! And don't forget that she's easily provoked, so proceed with caution, cowboys and cowgirls out there," said the old man. "Now for our real bounties," he said, stressing the 'real,' making sure that everybody who was watching knew he thought one million was beggars' money. "There's a ten billion reward out on the head of a master lady assassin, Jade Wong, who also goes by the name Sierra Jade. This feisty lady was convicted of murdering ten people already in the past week and since she's ended up slaughtering five more, it's double time! That's right, cowboys and girls out there—her bounty is now twenty bill—"

Spike kicked the television again, this time shutting it off. "Jet!" he called loudly over his shoulder.

"What?" asked Jet as he came in from the kitchen still in his apron. "Any good bounties?" he asked, not really caring at the moment. The night before was just too relaxing to let something as little as not finding a bounty on their first day back spoil his good mood.

"I'm not sure, Jet," said Spike thoughtfully. 'The description sounded like her enough, but isn't she—" Spike thought before saying aloud, "Jet, where's Faye?"

"Faye? I dunno. I assumed she was in her room, though she hasn't made a sound since we came back. I'll ask Ed if she's seen her."

Jet walked away and Spike slumped down a bit before rising to his feet. His long strides soon took him to Faye's room. He knocked softly before opening the door. If she was in there, she would have said, "Go away," or something to that extent. But she wasn't there.

Spike slowly walked back across the threshold of Faye's room and shut the door behind him, his expression thoughtful. He trudged to his room, but before he opened the door, he felt a sudden chill as if something was wrong. He pulled his gun out of its holster and put has back against the wall before slowly opening the door.

As Spike looked around, he didn't see any movement and everything looked the same as it did when he, Jet, and Ed left the Bebop last night.

Except his bed.

Spike never made his bed; he rarely even threw the covers over the mess, so the smooth, nearly creaseless blanket on his bed convinced him that someone had been there. But who?

Curious, he slowly walked toward it, purposely allowing his footsteps to thump loudly as he walked, so as to alert anybody of his arrival—that is, if there was, in fact, anyone there anymore. As he got closer, he saw that a small, vanilla-colored envelope sat on his pillow, with his name printed neatly in the front. By then, he was sure that no one had trespassed and stayed long in his domain.

            Slowly, he sat down on his neatly made bed and seized the small, square paper quickly, as if it could have moved out of his reach if he was too slow. He stared at the nice, even letters of his name. Right away, he could tell that… Faye had been crying as she wrote the letter because the dot on the 'i' in his name was slightly smudged—or had the small stain merely have been water?

            Interested and baffled at the same time, Spike opened the unsealed envelope and took out the sheet of paper what was written in Faye's neat, even cursive.

Dear Spike,

            Heh… Bet you never would have guessed that I'd be writing you a letter, ne? Well, I am. Deal with it. I just wanted to let you know that I'm leaving. I know that I've said that I was going to leave in the past and then came back, but this time, it's different. Check the safe—all the money's there. I didn't bust anything this time either. Run a maintenance check if you want. I didn't drain all of the frost out of the air-conditioning system, I didn't steal anything to pawn off, I didn't take any money; the only things that I'm taking are my clothes, my make up, and my ship. Don't look for me. But, of course, I guess you already knew I was going to say that. Either way, you wouldn't care… But I mean it this time.

            Well. So far this is pretty pointless, ne? I guess… Oy… I guess I'm stalling, aren't I? I'm stalling to say something to you because I never wanted you to know… I… I love you, you stupid lunk-head… I don't know why I do… but I do. I love you and now you know. And because I'd have left by the time you read this, you'll never get the chance to laugh in my face and crush my heart. Again.

            Spike… the reason I'm leaving is so you can be happy. I know I've been nothing but a pain in the past, and I'm sorry. I insulted you because I knew that you would never love me. I yelled when I was really crying inside. I hurt you before you could hurt me. Ironic… It's just as Gren said to me… "You hurt them before they ever get a chance to hurt you…"

            I'm so sorry for everything that I've ever said and done to you. I know that you won't forgive me, but at least now I know that you know I love you… We'll never meet again; I can make you that last promise… but please don't forget me; it's better to be remembered in hate than to be completely forgotten…

            Say goodbye to Jet, Edward, and the mutt for me. And tell them I loved them too. You guys were the only family I ever really knew…

Sayonara, Space Cowboy. May you finally find peace without me.

Love,

Faye

            Love, Faye. That was the last line of the letter. It had a conclusive feeling to it, a certain finality. "Don't look for me. But, of course, I guess you already knew I was going to say that. Either way, you wouldn't care… But I mean it this time." That line really irked Spike. " 'Don't look for me. But, of course, I guess you already knew I was going to say that. Either way, you wouldn't care…' Shit, what the hell did she mean by 'Either way, you wouldn't care'?" Spike muttered loudly under his breath as he bit back the bile he felt in the back of his throat.

            Slowly, he found his hand massaging his forehead. 'That woman… She always gives me such a migraine… Even when she's—' he thought before he stopped himself. 'No. She can't be gone. She'll be back. She always comes back. She can't live out there without us. This… This letter must have been written to throw me off-track. Well, no way, Faye-Faye,' Spike thought, even though he was uneasy. I had a feeling, a strong one, that she meant what she said. 'You always get in so much trouble… You know you can't live without us…' he thought. 'And I know I can't live without you…'

            Spike groaned as he got up off of his bed. 'Damn… I just wrinkled the sheets,' he thought. Suddenly, he laughed. When did he ever care if he wrinkled his bed sheets? But then again, when did Faye ever make his bed for him? A first… a last?

            'Damn,' thought again. 'Women…'