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Ok chapter 2 up, still trying to figure out why I loose a lot of my formatting. I would like to give thanks for the two reviews I got, seriously better than none, but I am kinda concerned about the statement "Eager, Don't disapoint me…" I have kinda definite plans for this story, and they might very well not be what people like, but oh well. That being said, I'd speculate that I'll write about two more longish chapters, and then maybe return to a more traditional work – I dunno (Spike comes back acts really cool, him and Faye make sweet love down by the fire, and make the big bucks? Something like that?) Anyway, all will be explained by the next chapter, I should point out that In truth I have no idea how obvious or hidden the main thrust of my story is, or when and where it becomes apparent, but for now we'll just pretend it's hidden, though it probably won't be. That being said, try not to be too judgmental of what I do with the characters, it'll make a much more valid point in the coming chapters I think, and basically I would like some more reviews, the ones I've gotten have been positive but make me worry, but nonetheless there what got me to keep writing so I could really go for some more.

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Now Chapter 2 of Young Man Blues….

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Too Many Coincidences

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Jet was surprised really at how much had transpired in the last two hours. He had just intended to pay the kid, wave politely and have this guy scamper the hell of his ship, and then he'd sit back with an extra 100,000 woolongs, maybe take a few days off, and then get his ass back to work. However, since he was serving them some crappy noodlish dish and pouring out the booze half an hour after the bounty had been divided, he had to say that things hadn't exactly gone with the plan, but hey neither did the bounty.

The first thing had been the barber shop, he had told Jet that he didn't really know the neiberhood well and had asked which was the nearest, and to be honest Jet wasn't too sure either, as that he didn't need his hair cut to often. When they finally got to one they found it completely empty. Seemingly relived that it was vacant of any patronage, he dropped in to the barber's chair and casually swung his hand around his head in some motion implying to just clean the damn thing up. Half an hour later it was still rather thick and messy, but it was shorter and out of his way. Next they had stopped at the tailors, Jet had simply handed him a hunk of cash and waited outside, but when he finally came out Jet thought his middle age approaching heart was gonna puke. This kid, despite all the shit he could have walked out with, managed to find himself a nice blue double-breasted suit, and yes, a beige-yellow shirt to go with it. He really wanted to ask the prick if this was his idea of a joke, but he thought better of it and thanked god he hadn't rolled up his cuffs yet.

They had come back to the ship, Jet led him into the living room, and before Jet could even mention anything about dividing the bounty, the kid had walked by him, hoped over the railing and sunk into the god awful yellow couch like it was his old friend. Jet really wasn't the type to get all upighty over manners, but seeing the blue suit on the awful upholstered yellow couch again was too much. He had grumbled to himself wishing that Spike's suit had been more one-of-a-kind. After they divided the reward money, Jet though feeling a little bored was ready to see the kid off and never here from him again, when out of nowhere the kid offered him up a partnership. He said that this old boat looked like it was boring him, and that "maybe they could split a few" and "you know, see how it goes". Though every bone in Jet's body had told not to,

"Sounds like a plan," he had replied.

"Well alright then? What's cooking?"

That had been thirty minutes ago, he'd been cooking since then while the chump had sat around on his couch flipping channels on the t.v. aimlessly. It really did remind him of Spike. The boy and him had in fact traded names. Around when he walked out of the tailors in the blue suit; almost as if on cue to elivate Jet's confusion and explain clearly that he indeed was not Spike, he casualy stated: "I'm Dylan, you know, in case your wondering". That was that, "Dylan Waters", he said to which Jet had politly replied "Jet Black", but It didn't seem like Dylan was paying much attention.

So here they were in this damn ship, aimlesly consuming Jet's garbage food, and preparing to dump toxic bevrages down their respective throats. Jet casually reached on to the table picking up a box of ciggrets and jammed one out a little pointing the box at Dylan suggestivly.

"You smoke?" he asked.

"Only because it's so damn cool," he said chuckling and pulling one out of the box and popping it into his mouth, as leaned forward for Jet to light him up, he added in a mumble around the cigarette, "…and cause I'm addicted…"

Jet snapped his thumb down on spoke sparking up the lighter and Dylan's cigarette,

"Yeah I know that," he said chuckling lightly to himself as he lit his own, "You like the blues?"

"I was born singing em," he teased grinning stupidly.

"That's what they all say," Jet grumbled numbly, as he picked up a square remote of the table pointed and clicked, and the radio buzzed on followed by the wail of a blues harp and the slow rustic dirge of a slide guitar. "So," he added taking another sip of his liquor and slapping the glass on the table, "Where'd you come from?"

"Well," Dylan mused, taking a long drag from his cigarette and spewing out smoke upwards dramatically, "I don't know if you're prepared to deal the consequences of my past."

Jet knew in part that this was just being silly, mocking the flare of the dramatic self-absorbed film noire hero, he also knew in part that the liquor was talking a bit too, but he also knew full damn well that it sounded like something Spike would say. Something dramatic, and filled with melancholy and implications, and he would have meant it too.

"Uh huh," Jet said sounding a mix between confused and annoyed, "Secrets between partners are dangerous you know," he added chuckling a little.

Dylan cut him off with a blow of sobriety, "Dangerous? Secrets aren't what ruin partnerships, it's got to be the impetus to destroy one's self," he said swishing the booze in his mouth and dumping the rest of the glass down his throat, "He went out like a ball of fire, cause he lit the damn match, so don't blame this on secrecy."

Jet just starred at him in sorta an annoyed way, when it came to him again, when who went out like a ball of fire? What is this kid going on about?

"What?" Jet asked snapping a bit.

The kid went more than a little white, realizing that he had slipped, or maybe the liquor was talking now, but choose to take another hearty swig, instead of acknowledging Jet's comment.

"Huh?" he asked, swirling around the liquid in his glass and looking down, "Nothing really, just proselytizing again, don't worry about it, I'm just enjoying the drink," he added smiling.

"Oh really," said Jet in a deep moan, sighing a little, relived but still worried.

"So Jet," he asked, "Why don't you tell me something about your past?"

"Hey c'mon now, I asked first," Jet moaned a little in annoyance.

"Whad'ja you do before all this," Dylan continued ignoring his comment, "You look like you used to be a cop, where'd you get that shinny souvenir?" he said nodding towards Jet's metal arm, "Fuck it up in a chase?"

Jet really resented the sound of that, he did look like the law, but the arm was different, a while back with Spike, he mighta snapped and lost it, but times had changed, and he learned his lesson. So this time he just chose to ignore his second half of the comment and address the first with a grumble,

"It's that obvious huh…" Jet said slumping his shoulders and leaning back into his chair, "I used to work for ISSP, but that really was another lifetime."

"What was that like?" Dylan responded flatly, with more of a statement than a question, Jet couldn't tell if he was eager or disinterested. He was playing the flat emotions, just like Spike would have, well he did ask, Jet snapped in his head. It didn't matter though he didn't have a decent answer.

"It's not so easy to explain you know, it was like," Jet paused, "Well a different world really, everything was different, not just me, different rules, different ideals, hell almost a different reality, I just let a bit of it sink into this new world."

"Yeah," Dylan replied perking up with more emphasis and pointing with his cigarette burning out in front of him, "I know exactly how that is."

Jet was surprised and pleased, he was afraid he hit him with too much drama or sincerity, and not to mention since this kid had seemed to put on a Spike mask, he was going to be very difficult to talk to.

"Really?" Jet asked inflection rising a little, "How's that?"

Dylan slumped all the way back into the couch, swinging his feet over he tossed his hands behind his head and propped his legs up against the arm rest. Damn, Jet mentally said to himself noting the sleeves of Dylan's coat had mysteriously cuffed up a bit.

"To be honest," said Dylan, waving his hand with the cigarette around in the air, making eye contact with the smoke instead of Jet, "I feel like I'm a different world everyday."

"Huh," Jet said glumly, accepting the fact that this kid was intentionally being childishly vague, and he had no idea what Dylan was rambling about, "Well what exactly did you used to do?"

"Like I said," Dylan mumbled, and paused to pretend to clear his throat as he stubbed out his cigarette on the ash tray, "…I'm not sure of much of anything, I've got some sorta long term hangover-amnesia, and I'm not really sure about much of my past or even my present, so right now I'm just wandering around hoping for the best."

"Right," Jet snorted in disbelief, "So you just wander around with no memory hoping for luck to work out for you?" he asked mockingly.

"If you like," replied Dylan titling his head down and closing his eyes.

"Amnesiac-gypsy-praying for luck?" Jet chuckled deeply, he really had to laugh at that one, he took it all back this guy wasn't a cheap Spike knock-off after all, "Man," Jet laughed some more, " you sound like Faye."

"Well I'm not." He snapped quietly, Jet laughed again, now he sounded like Spike.

"Hey man come on now," Jet chided, "You don't know the woman do you?"

Dylan paused for a while, opened one eye and glared at Jet, "No, I don't," he stated flatly, then closed his eye again.

"So you can't be saying you aren't just like her can you?" Jet asked.

No response, but the kid did look a little red, Jet thought to himself.

"Ha ha, you two would make a cute couple, I bet you're about her age." Jet said laughing, but now he could help but to notice Dylan blushing severely. So maybe he was a bit uncomfortable with my matchmaking? Jet humorously thought to himself, but come to think of it, he could recall the kids face first start turning red when his eyes were still closed, when he first mentioned Faye's name, and nothing else.

"Your blushing," Jet teased in a deep tone, he felt a little guilty, and kind of out of character, but maybe this was his ace up the sleeve to make Dylan spill his guts for real, "C'mon man, no hard feelings, do you know her or something? Cause if you want to see her again or something, I'm pretty sure I can reach her."

"No!" Dylan snapped his head popping up, face getting redder, he sunk back down trying to conceal how nervous he was, "Just… Just leave it man, I don't know the girl."

Don't know her? My ass you don't. Jet thought to himself, he was as red as a damn tomato now, and clearly very uncomfortable, if not excited by his mention of the girl who used to waste everything on the ship and annoy the hell out of him. What was this guy, maybe an old friend of Faye's; did he have a thing for her? Maybe they used to go out? She probably dumped the poor bastard, the damn shrew. Jet had no idea, but he was gonna find out.

"I'm gonna call her okay?" Jet said, more than he asked, "Maybe she'll come over," he added, he knew damn well she wasn't going back on the Bebop under any circumstances, but the prospect seemed to scare Dylan shitless.

"Don't do that man," he said sighing, face burning red now, "Your just gonna start some unnecessary chaos."

Chaos? Oh he certainly knows Faye then, Jet thought to himself.

"Well it's my ship," Jet said, "I'm gonna go see if I can contact her."

"Well then I'm going to sleep," Dylan announced rolling away from Jet and covering his head in his hands.

Man, thought jet to himself, that guy turned into a child in like no time flat. He walked down a corridor of his ship and grabbed the nearest communications device possible, he tapped a few keys; trying to remember all of the number Faye had left him. He heard it ring and waited for the other end to pick up. It was around half a dozen rings when he heard a click followed by a very groggy feminine voice.

"Hello?"

"Why hello Faye," Jet said in the sweetest baritone he could muster.

"Jet?" she asked still sounding dazed, "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Oh sorry about that Faye," he said a bit quieter, he hadn't noticed but it was damn near three now, and well, still he would have figured Poker Alice at least to be a bit of a night owl, "I didn't mean to call you so late but I wanted to tell you about something."

"Really?" she asked giving in a little, "What's so important?"

Jet didn't know really how to start, so he figured he'd just launch into it, "Well there's this guy I met today, I mean, he won't admit to it, but he defiantly knows you, I can't really tell how, maybe you guys used to date, maybe an old friend?"

"Jet…" she groaned, she didn't know why on earth he was going into this.

"He said his name was Dylan Waters," Jet said.

"What?" Faye asked a little ticked, "I have no idea who that is."

"Really?" asked Jet shocked and disappointed, "Never heard the name before?"

"It sounds like some sorta butchering of names of musicians from my childhood if you want the honest truth."

"Oh," said Jet a little confused, "Damn it, he must have made his name up, here let me describe him to you." Jet continued leaning over his shoulders, he could here Faye let out an exasperated groan on the other end, "He's a tall guy, kinda young I'd say, somewhere round your age, He's got this sorta scraggly matted hair, kinda scruffy looking…actually he's got some pretty sweet moves, like martial arts and shit I guess…"

"What?" Faye snapped on the other end, shit Jet knew what she was thinking, or at least what she though he was thinking, "I don't know anybody like that, I never knew anyone like that," she added with more ferocity, "…Well I knew one person like that, and clearly you did too, and that's why this guys on your ship huh? He reminds you of him, well Jet, if you thinking I'm coming back to that travesty of a junk ship to go reminisce with you over some guy who reminds you of Spike, well you've got another thing coming," she paused, Jet could here her start to cry a little, but before Jet could apologize she jumped back into it, "He's dead Jet—he's not coming back, just cause you've got some cheap knock off on the ship doesn't mean anything, let go of the past for once, didn't Spike teach you that by dieing? Get over it, and quit trying to compensate. You're a man Jet, so act like one!" she ended on that harsh note slamming the phone down with such force that Jet had to turn his head to once side.

Jet sighed to himself lightly returning the phone to its cradle; he walked back to the living room where Dylan had been trying to sleep.

"So how'd it go?" Dylan asked in a half dazed sleep state.

"I guess she doesn't know you after all buddy," Jet said sighing, "You were right, she really blew up at me though," he added chuckling in a way you could tell he didn't think it was funny, "Tells me to toughen' up, act like a man."

"Mhmmm," Dylan said tossing in his half sleeping state, "Don't listen to her, she's probably crying right now, just like she did when Spike took off, she's the one that's hung up over his death, not you, so don't feel so bad."

Jet would have thanked him for the empathy, if it hadn't taken him half a second to consider the magnitude of what this practical stranger sleeping on the couch had just said to him.

"What!" Jet exploded. He wasn't asking this time, he was demanding.

Jet's boom seemed to shake Dylan out of his half sleep state, and into full consciousness of what he had just said. His face quickly shifted from its happy embarrassed dreamy red, to a pale white.

"There's nothing to say is there?" Dylan softly whispered looking down.

"There damn well better be!" Jet boomed stomping his foot, "I want answers!"

"Answers for what?" Dylan said shaking his head in frustration, voice rising a little to be heard along side Jet's,

"Answers for what?" Jet said so softly, his voice shaking, and then growing in intensity, "Answers for the fact that you've been imitating and referencing my dead partner all day, answers for the fact that you've had me numbered and know my background, answers for your constant uncomfortable behavior when I talk about a women who turns out, has no idea who you are, and defiantly answers for you inside scoop to the drama of my old crews' lives!"

"Well there is no answer," Dylan said glumly, "Not one that'll you'll understand anyway."

"Well there damn well better be," Jet snapped, "Because I'm not gonna let this slip up go by."

"Well let me ask you Jet," Dylan said looking down at the floor again, "What would you believe?"

Jet's head snapped, but he kept on staring, damn there is no decent answer, but this kid sure had some hell of a nerve, "I don't have a damn clue," Jet replied angrily, "Are you stalking us, tracking us, got an old score to settle with us, do you secretly know an old buddy of mine? I'm asking you!"

"What answer do you want?" Dylan asked, "You know none of those answers would be enough."

Jet didn't say anything he just kept glaring, and thinking.

"You want more proof?" asked Dylan, "Well fine, I'll tell you how you lost that arm of yours," he began watching Jet's eyebrow twitch in frustration, "You were going after a member of the European syndicate, major player, notorious assassin, Udi Taxin? Was that his name?" Jet's face went a little whiter as Dylan continued, "Yeah I think so, you chased down the alley coming after him, but it was an ambush and they took your arm."

Jet breathed a sigh of relief, he could have likely went into old ISSP encrypted data to find this shit out, he was just some strange stalker he thought to himself, until Dylan cut of his thought and it became clear he wasn't done with the story.

"You thought that's who took your arm anyway, until Udi along with some other prisoners hijacked the ship they were on, You and your old partner came back for one more go, you took him out finally, but you took a heavy moral toll. You found out who really took your arm: your old partner, you were backstabbed. Then in act of self defense you shot your partner, and per his request gave him a cigarette just before he died, and then placed his old gun back in his hands."

Jet went completely white. He bent over dropping his hands into his head, Dylan now stood in front of him looking down sympathetically. There was absolutely no way to feel. No expiation, No reason, Jet was ready to keel over and just break down.

"And I can't explain how I know any of this to you, Jet" he said calmly with a voice that no longer recalled images of Spike to his mind, but instead just plain confusion and fear, "I can't tell you my past or how I know what I know, because as strange as it seems for you now, and as strange as this all is for me, I can only imagine what would happen to you if I told you."

Yeah, Jet was ready to keel over and just break down, but instead he just lost it He moved forward grabbing Dylan by the collar with both arms smashing him against the wall.

"Don't think I can handle it?" Jet barked, eyes burning with a crazed rage, "I don't really give a damn what you think, cause you can't blow my whole universe to shit without explanation!"

"Believe me," Dylan began, "It's just a nice coincidence compared to…" He was cut off by a fist to the gut as Jet glared at him and he began to cough, trying to regain some level of composure

"I don't give a damn!" Jet roared, "I want answers!"

"There is no answer, damn it!" Dylan shouted back, "It's just like I told you I'm in a different world now, nothing's the same nothing makes sense."

"Bullshit!" Jet snapped, "I don't want a philosophical posturing! I want truth! Because were not going anywhere till I get it."

Dylan paused for a moment and looked down, "Fine."

"Well?" Jet demanded, a little quieter now, "How? How do you know this…this…how do you know the smallest details…how do you know about my arm?"

Dylan let out a long loud airy sigh, and then paused again and looked right at Jet burrowing his eyes into his like daggers, "Well," he said pausing once more and taking a deep breath, "Because it was all part of Episode 16, Black Dog Serenade."

Jet let him drop to the floor suddenly, Dylan regained his balance standing up straight, Jet had sunken back and didn't feel so tall anymore.

"Confused Jet?" Dylan asked, "Didn't get my different worlds metaphor? Let me explain," looking down his voice hissing dryly with a piercing tone, "In my world Jet…" he said once pausing and began again, "In my world Jet, you're a damn animated character on a television show."