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Nothing Good Comes from Earth

Chapter 9: Green-haired Bastard

"Mmm," Faye moaned happily as she stretched. It had been a beautiful night. She couldn't remember being so satisfied with her life. She rolled over to Spike's side of the bed they were sharing, eyes still shut, intending to hug him. Her arm closed over cold sheets and pillows. Her eyes snapped open. Where was he?

She sat up, clutching the blanket to her chest, and looked around. The bathroom door was wide open and dark inside. The only clothing on the floor was hers. A surge of rage and hurt welled up from the pit of her stomach. He had left her. The bastard had fucked her and left her lying in a cheap motel bed like some whore. But at least whores get a few woolongs left on the nightstand for their services, she thought sourly.

Faye leaned over the edge of the bed searching for her cigarettes.

"Damn it, where are they?" she muttered, hanging off the bed far enough to swipe her hand underneath. Her fingers closed over the plastic wrapper eagerly as she sat up. At least he'd left her smokes. She pulled one out, surprised that her hands weren't shaking in fury. She didn't feel as calm as she looked. She sat on the bed smoking, staring blankly at the door. Maybe he just went to get breakfast, she tried to convince herself. Deep down she knew he wasn't going to be walking through that door any time soon.

Reluctantly, she threw the blankets off and stood up. Wallowing in self pity was futile; it would just lead to tears, and she had shed enough of those because of him to last the rest of her life. Spike Spiegel could go fuck himself, for all she cared. She had left the Bebop to kill Vicious, not get laid. And certainly not to fall in love.

The beige carpet was soft under her bare feet, but the air was frigid. It was probably 100 degrees outside, but the air-conditioner in the room worked a little too well. She hugged her arms around her naked torso, trying to warm up as she walked to the bathroom. The white tiles were icy. She missed her slippers…and her robe. Oh, well, she thought as she turned the shower on, can't have everything.

She stared at the woman in the mirror. Her makeup had either smeared or worn off; her purple hair was a tangled mess; and damn it if her skin wasn't still glowing. She grimaced at her reflection, reminded of just who had made her look so disheveled. It had been too good to be true, and she had known it. He fed her a line, and she had so desperately wanted him, she had eaten it up.

"Men really are assholes," she grumbled as she jumped into the steaming shower.

As the hot water pummeled her body, she ran through the information she had gathered the day before. Apparently, the oh-so-kind bartender that had eagerly come to her rescue when she had crashed had been on Vicious' payroll. Faye had thought she had been playing the old woman, but she had been the one who ended up being played. She had walked into the heart of the city, looking for the local syndicate building, only to find Vicious had skipped on back to Mars. She smirked. It was amazing what kind of info a little cleavage and a few cleverly placed woolongs could buy from hormone driven males. All men must think with their penises, she thought acidly. Well, at least that usually worked in her favor.

She scrubbed her skin fiercely until she was bright red all over. Deciding that she was clean enough, she turned the tap off, and reached for a towel.

Back in the bedroom, she eyed her dirty clothes with distaste. She sighed and pulled them on. She could change on the Bebop before she left for Mars. Once dressed, Faye turned to look at the little room. The bed was unmade, sheets and blankets strewn on the floor. It still smelled like them, musk mixed with smoke. Last night it had been heaven. It was nowhere close to that in the daylight. At least she wouldn't be stuck paying the bill. Spike had done that when they'd checked in.

The morning sun hit her with a wave of heat as she left the air-conditioned building. She blinked and put on her sunglasses. If she had had any doubts before about Spike actually being gone, they were now confirmed as she saw the Redtail sitting in the dust by itself. If he's got any brains at all, he won't be back on the ship for a while, she thought darkly as she strode to her tiny craft. She'd kill him if she saw him too soon.

She climbed through the hatch into the cockpit and noticed the light on her com unit blinking, indicating she's missed a call, or in this case 22 of them. All from Jet. A smile tugged the corners of her mouth. He really was worried about her. She dialed the Bebop. He answered on the first beep.

"Faye?" Jet said before focusing on who he was speaking to.

"Yes, it's me."

"Where the hell have you been? Damn it, woman!" The relief in his voice was obvious. She noticed he looked pretty haggard. He probably hadn't slept much; she felt a little guilty.

"I was taking care of some personal business. Besides, I'm not a child who needs your permission to leave, Jet," she retorted.

"Well, if you had any frickin' manners you would have at least called," he chastised her.

"I'm on my way back, now."

She turned the com off before he could give her a huge lecture. She'd get it soon enough.

Faye noticed as she docked, with a mix of disappointment and relief, that Spike's ship wasn't there. Killing him would have to wait. Jet was in the hangar waiting for her. He pulled her into a fierce bear hug the second she stepped out her ship.

"I'm fine, Jet," she groaned as he squeezed the air out of her. Jet had never hugged her before. A moment later he stepped away, turning a little red at his outburst of emotion. He patted her on the arm and cleared his throat.

"I'm glad you're ok. But call next time, will ya? Ed was real worried."

"And you weren't?" she teased, brushing past him.

Suddenly Ed zoomed into the room straight at her.

"Faye-Faye, Faye-Faye, Faye-Faye's back!" She squealed, tackling the taller woman to the ground.

"Oomph. I'm glad to see you too, Ed. Now get off me!" Faye grunted trying to sit up. Ed lurched off her and started running circles around her and Jet.

"Did Faye-Faye bring Ed a treat? Did she?"

Faye suppressed a groan and pulled a new chocolate bar out of her coat pocket. She had felt guiltier than she had first thought and had bought one in town. She held it out to the bouncing child, who snatched it eagerly and ran off to enjoy her treat.

Left alone, she looked at Jet, awaiting his inevitable questions. All she really wanted to do was change her clothes and put on some fresh makeup. But the new, more courteous Faye Valentine, stayed to face the sermon.

"So," he began warily, "did Spike find you?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah what? When? Why didn't he call me?" he demanded, watching the blood rise to her cheeks.

"Well...um…," she fumbled, trying to focus on anything but him. "We were…uh…busy."

Ah, so that's how it is now, he thought. He wasn't going to let her get off that easy.

"Doing what?" he asked innocently. Her face grew redder, the blush extending down her neck disappearing under her collar. She cast her eyes down, suddenly finding her boots very interesting.

"You know, stuff," Faye squirmed.

"Stuff huh. All night?"

She glared at him. This was none of his business. "Yes all night! Why? Jealous?" She grinned evilly. It was Jets turn to be embarrassed. The tips of his ears and his balding head burned.

"Nope," he gulped, shoving his hands in his pockets, no longer looking at her. "I've, uh, got some work to do."

She left him in the hangar, smiling to herself.

Back in her room, she lay smoking on her bed in nothing but red satin undergarments. She had been surprised to find her room clean. Ed or Jet must have picked up all that broken stuff, she thought. She was still fuming mad at Spike. But anger was good. It covered up the hurt. Mars. She had to go to Mars. She sat up, flicking the ashes into the proper receptacle for once, and stood before her closet. If she was going after Vicious, she needed to be comfortable, but still look good. She didn't want him to think he had crushed her. Didn't want him to have the satisfaction of seeing the scars he'd left on her soul. She was going to march in their, guns blazing, fully confident. She thumbed through her wardrobe of mini skirts, halter tops, and various other skimpy clothes. What was I thinking when I bought all this stuff? She thought. At last she stopped. Black leather pants, red microfiber tank top. Perfect. She pulled them on, then grabbed the black leather trenchcoat she had won at a poker game a year ago but had never worn. She wanted to carry plenty of ammo. Vicious seemed to be one of those indestructible types, like Spike. She scowled thinking about him.

"Lunkheaded, green-haired bastard!" she muttered as she applied her makeup and brushed her hair until it shined.

Just a quick trip to the weapon's locker and she'd be ready to take off. First she'd deal with Vicious, and if by some chance she was still alive, she'd deal with Spike, too. She allowed herself a small smile as she thought of just how she'd punish him as she left her room.



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