CB: Cat and Mouse, -IX-

The ride back to the Bebop is going to be cramped, but Jette doesn't ask questions when I guide her by her shoulders over to the Swordfish II. And she doesn't say a word as I settle her innocently across my lap, taking the controls in hand.

Whatever else is between us, she accepts this, and leans her head against my shoulder, her nose tickling my neck and the trickle of sweat slipping down the side of my face. She's safe, and she's as worn out emotionally as I am physically. There are bruises up and down my torso, I'm sure, and probably a cracked or broken rib.

It hurts even to have the slight pressure of her weight on me, but it is a hurt that I enjoy enduring. And the trip is only a short one. Despite the smell of garbage lingering on her from the alleyway, I breathe deeply of the scent of her underneath it, and am somehow comforted in it, and also to find that she is dozing slightly.

I land carefully on the deck of the ship and slowly taxi into the dock, followed by Jette in the Hammerhead. She startles awake and climbs down carefully as soon as the hatch is open, somehow managing to do it all without the use of her hands.

Jette and I exchange a look as she scrambles up the stairs towards the lounge, but neither of us say anything yet.