The characters of Cowboy Bebop aren't owned by me, but I hope you like my story! Kudos in advance to those that review!

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Chapter Three: The Party of Pepelu

"Petria Malnakov. ISSP Special Agent #138, Test Subject #4. Time of service: 15 years. Reason for Dismissal: FILE LOST. Hm. Figures." Spike rubbed the back of his head thoughtfully and absentmindedly flicked cigarette ash onto his rapidly cooling 'lunch'. Jet hadn't offered to tell them what it was, and the crew of the Bebop didn't really wish to know anyway. Just so long as it was filling.
"Why is there a bounty on her anyway?" Faye asked around a mouth of indescribable something. She grimaced and swallowed rapidly.
"She's sold several minor state secrets to assorted syndicates; Blue Snake, Yellow Rat, Red Dragon, among others." Jet ticked the names off his fingers casually, failing to notice Spike stiffen. "But that is something small among many other things." He glanced at Spike waiting for a response, and found his partner glaring at the floor, brow furrowed and eyes dark in an angry contemplation.
"Ey! Spike! If you don't want one of our resident bottomless pits to consume your portion of lunch, then you'd better do something about it soon," Jet warned, seeing Ein slyly sneak towards the table. Disappointed to be caught, Ein turned his nose up innocently, and traipsed out of the room. Spike snapped out of his reverie and grinned sheepishly before picking up his plate. He scraped the contents off into his mouth with four large scoops.
Faye threw him a disgusted look before starting to eat more primly than either Jet or Spike had ever seen before. They both smirked at it, lit a cigarette, and went back to the contemplation of data that Ed's Tomato had brought them.

But the longer he stared, the less Spike understood. She had a distinguished career. Petria was, " a star. Some of her finest work was during the Titan Wars. She was a cybernetically enhanced super-spy; one of the first that the ISSP had developed. Hence the test number. Then, out of nowhere, she killed two ISSP informants, and had been on the run since. No bounty had been issued due to the secretive nature of the ISSP. But when three more spies were killed after being sent after her, the ISSP posted the bounty."
"And I loved her," Jet finished with a sigh. "My pine marten." Jet inhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose to try and keep his face from running off with his emotions.
"I never knew what had happened. Alisa, I loved her yes, but not in the same way. Petria had, that spark that just infects a man from within. She had a vitality that I was drawn to." Jet paused to glance knowingly at Spike who returned his gaze evenly. He continued, "I met her about a month after I had joined the force. She was originally from Mars, thus making her a little homesick. She looked so fragile and scared." Jet smiled sadly and shook his head, before continuing, "And I spilled evidence all over her. Illegally bred fish eggs from Earth. I guess I was paying more attention to her than my feet. I took her to the shooting range to apologize; what a romantic I was, right?"
Jet ran his hand over his head, his face softening a little, and his eyes beginning to gleam with tears. "We were together for seven years before she disappeared. Alisa was sweet and comforting to me, and damn it, I was going to marry her and bury my past. But then she left too. And now my little pine marten is back from the dead..." Jet trailed off quietly, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes while Spike and Faye pretended not to notice. He stood up and mechanically walked up the stairs to his bonsai room, the latch clicking behind him as Spike and Faye stared openmouthed at the man who they considered a pillar of strength and stability.
Now he had just spilled his guts to them. This usually unshakeable man had left them so astonished at the tide of emotions, that all they could do was sit in a stunned silence. Faye put her plate down and lit a cigarette, silently handing the lighter to Spike, who took it without a word or a glance, and proceeded to light the wrong end of his own cigarette. Faye watched amusedly, as he spat tobacco and wrinkled his nose at the smell of burning fiberglass.
"You seem distracted," she said lazily.
"And you seem friendly. Neither of which are true," he said pointedly, tossing the destroyed cigarette and lighting a new one.
Faye opened her mouth to make another quip, but before she could, a voice rang out over the PA system of the ship, "Ed is having a party, because today is Ed's birthday! Everyone is invited!"
Faye groaned inwardly. She recalled the last two years that Edward had remembered her birthday. Or thought she did. The first year, she had projected holographic plants and animals, complete with sounds, all over the ship. She had put on a crown and proceeded to stalk through the ship, claiming it was her jungle for the day.
The second year, Ed had jimmied the flight plans and taken the entire crew (highly grudgingly) to Earth for a picnic in the ramshackle, little clutter box house, Ed had used to reside in.
"Ed has decided that for her birthday, everyone will dance! Dancy-pants!" her voice on the PA ended with a crazed giggle and a faint 'Arf!'.
"Dancing?" Spike looked horrified. "What could Ed be thinking of?" His bewildered musings were interrupted by a clatter from the hallway. Suddenly, Spike and Faye were struck by a vision.
Ed emerged, wearing an odd assortment of jewelry and a hodgepodge of mismatched clothing that clung to her tall frame oddly, while her fingers and toes were each painted a different shocking color. Most incredible of all though was her hair. With some unknown skill, Ed had managed to dye her hair an electric blue, and spike it. With her most maniacal toothy grin she bounded to Faye and snapped to salute. "Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky the Fourth wishes to recruit Faye-Faye Valentine to help her get ready for her birthday!"
Faye sputtered incoherently for a bit before gasping out a, "Ready? Wha-? Whe-?" before lapsing into a stunned silence.
Spike coughed delicately. "Um, Ed...you, er, look...different."
Edward turned and wrapped herself happily around Spike's body. "Thank you Spike-person! Ed likes green and purple hair too, but they were already taken!" As if to prove her point she put both hands into Spike's unruly hair and rubbed vigorously for a moment before launching herself off the sofa to stand in front of a still speechless Faye.
"Edward has been saving her allowance for over a year to take Bebop-bebop to dance!"
Finally brought back to the reality of the situation, Faye sighed heavily. It seemed that nothing would please Ed other than having Faye help her get gussied up for, she shuddered at the thought, a night out on the town.
"Ed will spare no expense! Tonight Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky the Fourth becomes grown-upidy and can be called Ed-person! Ed-ward will try drinks! Edward will walk like Faye-Faye," she said, dramatically draping herself over a chair briefly before leaping up to continue her narrative, "Edward may try one of Spike-person's smelly cigaretty sticks, and Ed-" she cut off suddenly, looking scared.
"Edward," she continued quietly, "may want to kiss a boy." She looked scandalized that such a thing had come out of her mouth, and positively horrified when Faye began to laugh.
"Oh, Ed, you're eighteen! Don't worry, it's part of growing up. But your list seems a little too-intensive for one night. Let's see how it goes, kiddo." Faye smiled bemusedly at the still scandalized Ed, while Spike glanced back at the figure of Jet who had emerged quietly from his bonsai sanctuary halfway through Ed's speech. After a while Spike realized what the half-pleased, half-sad look on Jet's face meant. The look of a father who thinks he's losing his little girl to the big bad world.

Wish I'd had someone like that to look at me knowingly on my eighteenth birthday.
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"OI! KID!" came the roar from across the room.
"I'm not a kid, alright." The tall young man turned around to face the drunkard at the bar. "I'm no longer a child. So stop treating me like one." Two deep brown eyes peered into a pair of watery blue ones.
"Yea? Well you still belong to me, bucko. I raised you, and cared for you, and now you're in my debt."
"Debt? Hardly, old man. You took me in from the orphanage so you could get a steady welfare check. As soon as I was old enough to do anything you freeloaded off me. You're the one who's in debt old man. You owe me a childhood."
"I don't owe you shit! I took care of you, God damn it!"
"No. You took care of yourself by keeping me. And now I'm free. Free to live this crazy dream they call life." The young man turned from the smoky bar and started to head for the door. A lead slug buried itself into the doorjamb to his right.
"Spike, you crazy little shit, you'd better get back here!"
Spike kept walking. One foot in front of another. In front of another. Out into a cool, rusty night in Tharsis. It was June 26th, 2062. He was finally eighteen. In his mind, that equation added up to one word. Freedom.
A scuffling noise behind him spun him around. "Kenjo. Don't follow me. I don't want you in my life anymore," he said, calmly. The tone of his voice was cool and unaffected. He was free, after all. The older man, stinking of stale beer and whisky staggered up to him, waving a pistol in his face. "Spike, you ingrate, I gave you a fucking home. Now fucking stay in that home I gave you!"
"You never gave me a home. You gave me a prison." Spike yanked the pistol out of Kenjo's grasp and hit him over the back of the head. "Fucking drunk. Sleep that off and realize how much you needed me."
The tall, thin young man walked off slowly towards the spaceport, examining the pistol he had taken from his adopter. "Jericho 941. How the fuck did the old man ever afford something like this?" he pondered, taking out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one deftly. "Doesn't matter if the old asshole was a fucking arms dealer or a circus clown. Now I can finally begin my dream."
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Spike narrowed his eyes in remembrance. Suddenly he sat up. My god. I'm 32. He chuckled wryly and smiled thoughtfully to himself. Well, better get going on my mid-life crisis. He snorted and picked up the ashtray, grinding the remains of his cigarette into it.

This was going to be quite a night.

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Author's Notes: I wrote part of, and typed all of this thing in a massive bout of insomnia! Yay! (Now, Chinese class, strung out from sleep-deprivation. Fun.)
Also, to you all . . .I redid Chapter Two because I wasn't happy with my plot plan, and now the story is set after Session 26. It'll all get explained, don't worry!
Gracias again to mine reviewers, especially those who sympathize with my homework predicament ;).
Now to food, and perhaps the start of Chapter FOUR! (ps. I have no idea how many chapters this story will take -- I write what comes to me.)
Cheers,
Malia!