Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop. In fact, I don't own anything, except for my little keychain of Vash the Stampede (courtesy of Exilca Yuy).
Well, my summer vacation has pretty much been anything but a vacation. I've had barely any time to work on this chapter, and when I finally do, we get the Blackout. Not to mention a horrendous writer's block. Someone up there really doesn't want me to finish this.
Many thanks go to Spi-Spi3, Layla, Crazy Rikku, and InuYasha'sgirl !!!!!
And to critic attack and Sidekick-Attacker: Your kind (major bullshitting here) criticism is greatly appreciated. Fuck you very much. And since you either do not have the talent or intelligence to write and post something of your own, I am sorry to say I cannot return the favor.
Ya know, I honestly expected people to be a bit smarter. Meaning: If it sucks so much that it's painful to read, don't sit through and read all 16,200 words of it just to tell me it's terrible. Move on to a different fic, or write one of your own if you can't find something you like. Duh!!
And a special thanx goes out to Yuyi and Swimming Bird. Thank you soooo-ooo-ooo incredibly much! Although I am going to continue this, despite the opinions of some Mary Sues, you guys just made it seem more worthwhile. Rock on!!
Okay, end of ramblings.
Chapter 7
Activity aboard the BeBop was pretty minimal, as it had been for the past month and-a-half. A few petty thieves joined them aboard for a short time here and there, along with a few bigger crooks. Other than that, things were slow to the point of sluggish.
The door to the hangar slid open to allow Spike to enter, looking grumpier than usual. He continued to wipe the oil from his hands onto the stained work shirt he wore as he joined his fellow comrades on the old yellow couch. "Yo," Spike greeted, pulling a cigarette from the carton next to him and lighting it with the lighter in his pocket.
Faye glanced at him from over the top of her fashion magazine. "Have fun tinkering with that piece of junk you call a ship?" Spike glared at her and turned his head slightly to the side to exhale. Seeing the beginning of a few welts on his neck, Faye asked Spike, "What the hell happened to your neck?"
At the mention of this, Spike directed an icy glare towards Ed, who was hiding behind the worn yellow chair Faye was in. "The kid started to pelt bolts and screws at me for no damn reason."
A tiny voice from behind Faye said, "Ed thought it was funny."
Spike, apparently, did not find this funny. At all. "You little . . . Come here kid!" he yelled as he shot up from his place on the couch and vaulted over Faye. Ed let out a high-pitched squeak of a scream before taking off, just barely missing Spike's flying figure. They continued this game of cat-and-mouse for nearly ten minutes, until Spike finally grabbed hold of Ed's ankle while she climbed up the staircase. "Gotcha!" he yelled in triumph before putting her in a full nelson. "Now why the hell was it so funny?" he asked the squirming child.
"Because . . . Because . . . " Ed said before slithering through his grasp and taking off out of sight.
Defeated, Spike collapsed between Jet, who was pruning his bonsai, and Jenni, who was emphatically typing on Edward's Tomato. "Just let her go," Jenni said distractedly, eyes glued to the screen. Spike wished they were glued on him. After what appeared to be another failed search, she leaned backwards and arched her back over the couch. "Damn," she sighed while stretching her arms over her head. Without warning, the woman hoisted her weight forward onto her feet and stalked off to the upper level.
Faye closed her magazine and got to her feet, also. "You people are boring," she said before turning to leave. "I think I'm going to go take a shower." If this was supposed to get a rise out of her colleagues, Faye must have been greatly disappointed by their lack of emotion. In the end she chose not to bother with them and disappeared into the shadows of the BeBop.
The silence between the two men went unnoticed for a lengthy period of time, in which neither of them stirred. Finally, it was broken by a question from one of them. "Tell me, Jet," Spike began, his eyes still locked on the nothingness in front of him, "How do we keep adding to our numbers aboard this hulk?"
"Well," Jet began as he put his shears on the table in order to light a cigarette, "You just kinda showed up here. The dog was brought back here by you." Spike cringed at this reminder, but Jet ignored him and continued on. "The first girl was kind of like a parasite; showed up one day and never left. The kid was promised something by Faye and literally brought us down to her. And the new girl made a deal, which none of us refused. Happy?"
Spike lit the fresh cigarette he held between his lips while mulling over what Jet had just said in his mind. He was about to inquire on this topic further when a totally different thought he'd pushed to the back of his mind pulled itself back to the front and knocked all other musings out of the way. "Hypothetically speaking," Spike began, "What do you suppose it means to dream about someone before you even know they exist?"
Jet looked up sharply and delivered a quizzical glimpse to his partner. Then, with a knowing smirk, he questioned, "This wouldn't have anything to do with Jenni, now would it?"
A thin stream of smoke was forced from Spike's lungs as he kept steady eye contact with Jet, saying nothing yet more in that simple gesture than words ever could. "I said hypothetically, Jet."
Triumphantly, Jet said, "See, I told you, remember? I told you a long time ago."
"What, don't eat the bonsai, they're not broccoli?" Spike asked with an arched eyebrow.
Slightly disgruntled at his partner's feigned ignorance, Jet informed him, "No, but don't forget that. Listen to your dreams, that's how you find your dream girl."
"Oh yeah," Spike said as he glanced upwards, recalling that particular quote. With a nasal laugh, he said, "I don't think that'll be happening any time soon." Stretching his lanky form skyward, Spike stood up and said, "Besides, she's just another woman with an attitude, another tomboy that'll be more trouble than she's worth."
As Spike turned to leave, Jet's smirk became evident in his voice. "But this one's different. I know it, and I know you do, too. Besides, you said you liked that kind of thing." Spike stopped to listen, turning his head around to face Jet. True, Jet was right, but Spike wanted to hear how well his partner thought he knew him. "Let me see, how did you put it . . . You like 'women who aren't usually feminine, but show it in some chance circumstance.'"
Spike glared at Jet, knowing his partner had hit dead center. "Dammit," he said before leaving the room, allowing Jet to return to the care of his trees.
Aimlessly wandering the halls of the BeBop appeared to be a useless way to spend his time. That is, until Spike walked across a room on the upper level of the ship. Poking his head around the corner of the doorway, signs of life appeared in the usually empty room. Jenni stood in the center, punching, kicking, and dodging an invisible opponent. Spike watched her carefully, each flying movement increasing in speed, power, and accuracy. He recognized a few of them as moves he himself had dutifully mastered and applied, only with a few stylistic differences. "You into Bruce Lee?" Spike asked in hopes of getting her attention.
Jenni calmly paused with her leg held up in the air next to her and replied, "Are you nuts?! Jeet Kune Do is the most effective fighting style out there, mainly because of its total disregard for fixation; it's all instinct."
Her answer caused Spike to grin. A girl after his own heart. He noticed that a lock of hair had fallen from its loose hold on the back of Jenni's head and into her resolute face. Spike reached a hand forward to place it behind her ear, but soon found himself facing the ground with Jenni holding his arm out and leaning on his elbow. Looking up at her, he said, "You've got some smooth moves," as he slid his foot behind her legs and kicked forward. Just before she would have landed on her back, Spike stuck the same foot out behind her, which held her up inches from the ground between her shoulder blades. (A/N: If you're having trouble seeing this, just think Bulletproof Monk)
"What do you want?" Jenni asked, a hint of annoyance at being disturbed in her voice.
Spike, who was still grinning at her, said, "Now that you mention it, New Year's is this Saturday. I know this exclusive little jazz club on Mars, so how does you and me celebrating there sound?"
Although Jenni would usually take this opportunity to cause some severe damage to her offender, there was something in his manner of asking her that she found strangely alluring. Jenni took the hand Spike had offered to help her up. "Saturday sounds great."
Silently rejoicing at her decision, Spike lifted Jenni to a standing position as he said, "I can't wait."
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The next three days dragged by with little to no activity. As Friday melted into Saturday, however, time flew past them at an alarming rate, as it tends to do whenever it's needed most.
Jet wandered the vast corridors of the BeBop, as he always did when his bonsai didn't need pruning and his thoughts were in desperate need of collecting. Once again, he was feeling drastically under-appreciated by his colleagues. He offered them a place to stay, rent-free, and what little food he had, and what do they do? Take off for days at a time, show up later on blown to bits, and expect him to clean up after them. Ein showed him more respect than those vagrants he called his partners. Jet recalled his stable, predictable life before teaming up with the human mystery, Spike Spiegel. Besides, there wasn't really a bond between them . . .
That's when Jet regretted his self-pitying thoughts. No matter how much he tried to deny it, there was a bond between them. It wasn't expressed or visible, but both men knew it was there. Spike still felt betrayed by his last comrade, and Jet respected his feelings of doubt; he knew all too well where Spike was coming from. If he had to symbolize it, Jet would say he was like a big dog, beaten and broken, which had found solace in a lone wolf much like himself. Together, they fashioned a pack along with other misfits who were worn and weathered by the world's cruelty. Yeah, that's it –
A loud crash emitted from the room he had just passed, along with a chain of angry curses. Jet stuck his head in the door, eyes meeting an estranged sight. Ed was flopping and jumping around wearing something that looked remarkably like a black Spike-sized sweater while Spike sat on his bed in black trousers and boots alone and scowled at the wild child, taking drag after angry drag from his cigarette. The sight would have been extremely amusing if Jet didn't know all too well how capable Spike was of cold murder. "Ed, what're you doing?"
Smiling her sunny smile at him, Ed said, "Edward is helping Spike-person get ready!" She began running around the room, promptly tripping on one of Spike's extremely long sleeves and propelling into a wall. Edward hastily discarded the exceptionally large sweater and put her arms out to the side, 'flying' out of the tiny room.
Spike waited until he was sure Ed was out of hearing range before releasing a smoke-filled sigh of relief and a pleased, "Finally, she's gone." He picked up a black t-shirt from the floor that had been caught in the small humanoid typhoon's whirlwind and dusted it off before throwing it over his head and letting it fall over his bare chest. Pausing before doing the same with the sweater, Spike asked his partner, "Need something, Jet?"
The older man gave Spike a quizzical glance and said, "Just wondering what Ed was 'helping' you get ready for." He stooped to pick up a tipped ashtray next to his feet; definitely Ed's handiwork.
Grinning, Spike pulled the rest of the sweater down and said smugly, "I've got a date."
Jet didn't doubt it, but the answer surprised him all the same. Surprise turned to cynicism as Jet smirked at his friend and said, "This is unusual. You're always the one who stays on the BeBop every New Years and drinks himself into oblivion."
"That may be," Spike replied. "But not this year." Whistling an upbeat, jazzy tune as he draped his old trench coat over one shoulder, Spike stopped long enough to inform Jet of his expected return time. "Don't expect us back until late. And please," he stressed, "don't seal the hangar this time." Spike resumed his whistling as he walked out the small, circular door.
However, his exit was delayed by an outburst from his partner. "Whaaa?! You don't mean you're bringing her back- back here, do you?!"
An arched eyebrow met Jet. "Yeah. What, is there something wrong with that?" Spike asked, covering his slip-up. Good thing Jet had taken it the other way, otherwise their cover would have been blown. Although it wouldn't make much difference in the end, both Spike and Jenni had agreed to keep their tryst with each other hidden from the rest of the crew. Their reasoning simply remained at the fact that tensions would remain few and far between all of them.
"Not really," said Jet as he folded his arms across his chest. "Just don't 'disturb' the rest of us, alright?"
"Understood, pard."
Once again, Spike's exit was hindered by another question from Jet, only this one not as harsh. "So, what's this Wonder Woman of yours like?" he asked in a gentle yet solid tone.
A distant, almost dreamy look crossed Spike's face. "She's amazing. And very beautiful. Dangerously beautiful, like an angel from hell or something. Y'know?" He picked up his whistling and finally left the small room for the night.
So this is it, huh? Some little voice inside Spike's head said in approval. Instead of being a drunken burden to everyone, you're actually going on a date. The thought brought a smile to his face; a once foreign expression that had been making numerous appearances over the past few months.
Another voice pushed into his head, contradicting his sardonically pleasant thoughts. Remember what happened last time? She killed you! Don't get yourself annihilated by another woman! They're all liars! You should know that by now!!
Not all women, he argued back.
This inner battle tormented Spike until he reached the entrance to the hangar, fighting off this persistent feeling of cold feet. Leaning his shoulder against the cold metal wall, Spike slipped a cigarette from his pocket and twirled it between his long fingers while pondering what tonight would be. He wouldn't get close to another woman again. This was just something to do on a night like this, he tried convincing himself. She'd be kept distant, just like everyone else he'd ever met.
Those inner vows, however, were shoved to the back of his mind as footsteps emerged from somewhere behind him. "What're you all dressed up for, cowboy?" a smooth female voice asked. Spike closed his eyes and felt the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. He turned his head sideways to see Jenni emerge, and his breath caught in his lungs. The black ensemble she wore was simple, but Spike thought she appeared to be a goddess.
Mentally smacking himself for his fantasy of sorts, the bounty hunter turned to face her fully. "I really should be asking you."
Simply shrugging, she said, "New Years date. Not too sure about this guy, though." Faye passed by at that particular moment, feigning deafness. Jenni winked at Spike, then asked him, "D'you think I could bum a lift to Mars?"
"I don't see why not." As he turned to lead her out to his ship, he said with a smirk, "I could use some civilized company before meeting up with this woman."
Jet and Faye watched their colleagues leave together, each for what they thought to be two separate rendezvous. Adoringly, Faye said, "Jenni looks stunning. The guy she's meeting is going to be in for a pleasant surprise, don't you think?"
Shaking his head, a sigh escaped Jet and he said, "I just hope the girl Spike's meeting on Mars has some idea of what she's getting herself into."
Faye seemed to ponder something for a minute or two before speaking. "I'm pretty sure Jenni said she's expected on Mars . . . and she met this guy there . . . Where did Spike pick her up for her bounty again?"
"Mars," Jet said while walking off in the opposite direction. Finally, something clicked in his brain. "You don't think . . ."
Popping up out of nowhere, Ed shrilly yelled, "Ed thinks so!" The two adults glimpsed at the kid, looking for an explanation. "Spike-person was playing with Swordfish II when Jen-Jen came out to visit him!" Rolling backwards onto her hands, Ed continued. "Edward was sleeping in the hangar until they started talking. So then Ed went to tell them to be quiet, and-" She stood up and turned so her back was to them before running her hands up and down her back. "They were all kissy kissy mwwwwaaa!!!
He and Faye stared at each other momentarily, eyes wide with wonder. As if on cue, both of them tore off in search of a communication system, Jet being the triumphant one. "Aha!" he yelled before pounding in Spike's number.
At the same time, on the Swordfish II, Jenni asked Spike, "You don't think they expect anything, do you?" Instead of the worry Spike expected to hear with this question, there was a certain thrilled, excited tone in her voice.
"Why should they? After all, we told them the truth," he said while entering the starship from the landing deck. "Just not all of it."
Almost immediately, the image of an angry-looking Jet and a cross Faye filled the communications screen. "Spike! You slug, the least you could do is –"
He was cut off as Faye stole the little box from Jet's hand. "Come on, Jenni! You've got to be kidding me; what in the world do you see in that lunkhead?!"
Already hunched forward in preparation for takeoff, Spike wordlessly cut the connection between him and his comrades.
That's all for now!!!!
