As always, although I much wish that I did, I do not own Cowboy Bebop's characters, nor will I ever (although I own the DVDs). Hope you like my story, which I do own!

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Chapter 6: Runner

Faye loved her showers. Nothing calmed her down like standing under that scalding stream, letting the water make little rivulets over her bare skin. Nothing, except maybe spending the day on the ratty yellow sofa with a mushy novel and a bottle of something. Imagine then, how irate she was, when she discovered that the shower was cold and that the said sofa, was occupied by the man who had used all the hot water.
She raged her way into the living room and rat tailed a towel before hitting Spike across the stomach with it, dropping that and her other towel on his head. She stood, fists balled, growling, daring him to get up. He lazily picked them up and casually draped one over the back of the sofa, folding the other one up before putting it over his face.
"Smells nice," he said, voice muffled. "Thanks, Faye."
Hearing the infuriating lazy smile in his voice only made her madder. She launched herself over the sofa and dragged Spike upright by the lapels, the towel falling onto the sofa. He pretended to sleep, smiling amusedly as she shook him, yelling exasperatedly, "Dammit, Spike!" This was great. He didn't have to do anything to piss her off. No work, all play.
Finally, with a snarl, Faye tossed him back down on the sofa and stalked up the stairs. She turned to see Spike's thin arm waving goodbye to her, with a faint voice, muffled from the towel he had replaced over his face, "Thank you, come again."
In a huff she turned on her heel and sailed off to her room to have a good sulk and a stiff drink.

Four or five hours later she heard a soft knock at her door. She groaned in reply. The door opened and a tall, thin silhouette entered and sat down on her bed, looking curiously at the snowy static that covered the television screen. She had been watching her video again. Spike sniffed the air. And drinking.
"Faye, you drink too much."
"And you talk too much. Besides, I drink to forget."
"Why forget when you're just starting to remember everything?"
"Because everything I remember reminds me that I have nothing. All my friends are dead. My family is all dead, and died thinking I was dead all along. I don't have my real name, and the name I do have is burdened with debts and bounties. All I own is either in this room, or in the hangar. I'm tired of remembering that my life is worthless. I'm tired of being reminded that I have nothing. I'm tired of knowing that I should keep running." She sighed heavily and leant tiredly against the wall. "I'm tired of running. I'm tired of not knowing where I belong, who I can trust, and who I can love. I'm tired of being me. That's why I drink." She groped for her bottle and brought it shakily to her lips. Spike watched quietly as she drank a couple of gulps then handed it to him. He took a swallow and then set it down out of her reach. When he looked up, Faye's head was buried in her hands, and Spike could hear the ragged breathing of someone who was crying.
Without a word Spike got up and went to the kitchen, returning shortly with some paper towels. He awkwardly offered them to Faye, who looked up from her tear-dampened fingers with shock. She sniffled and took the crumpled wad from his hands, and proceeded to honk into it loudly. She looked up at him, uncertainly with a small hiccup. He smirked and took the paper from her hands, and went to go throw it away in the garbage.
He sat back down on the bed and looked straight into her eyes. Those deep green eyes. Those haunted looking eyes. "Feeling better?"
"I guess. More numb, at least. Why do you care?"
He shrugged and sat back against the wall her bed was against, lighting a cigarette before offering her one. She took one uncertainly and accepted his offer of a light. Inhaling deeply, he closed his eyes before answering, "I figured we should probably stick together since Jet's gone."
"He's wha-?"
"Left a few hours ago, I'm guessing. I came out into the living room after a workout to find a bowl full of noodles and a note saying 'Take care of the girls' and one of Ed's smilies. I'm assuming that by 'girls' he meant you and the Bebop."
"We can't just let him leave to go find that madwoman!"
"We have to, Faye. He needs this. God knows I pulled the same stunt with you guys. Besides, he didn't take his communicator."
"But he'll get himself killed!"
"I highly doubt that. Jet's much more sensible about this stuff than I am. Besides, he's got Ed to take care of."
Faye smoked quietly for a moment as she stared off into space. Then, brusquely, she turned and pointed the burning end of her cigarette at Spike. "This still doesn't explain the sudden niceties. Spill, Spike."
"What?! I can't be friendly?"
"Spike! You deliberately piss me off every fucking day! You've never spontaneously been nice! Why start now? Did you suddenly, magically fall in love with me?"
He threw his ands in the air. "Faye, accept this as a gift from Jet, if you can't deal with it any other way, alright? I promised him I'd help him in any way I could for him to get closure on this issue, and if that means taking care of you and being nice to you, then that's what I'll do!"
"Huh!" she snorted. "I knew it couldn't come from the goodness of your little heart, what there is of one."
Spike took a vicious drag from his cigarette, then tossed it out the door into the hall. "Oops, I dropped my cigarette. I'd better go retrieve it," he said, sarcastically. He stood up and picked up the scotch, taking a gulp from it before moving out into the hall. He returned, a few minutes later, much calmer and notably cigarette-less. He rubbed his eyes before saying, "Look, Faye, I'm going to try and be friends with you if it kills me-no, let me finish," he said, seeing Faye's mouth open. "For Jet's sake and for our own, we need to try to get along. We'll go nuts if it's just the two of us sparring all the time. Besides," he said, smiling mischievously, "I'll starve if I don't have someone to cook for me. Whaddya say? Truce?" He held out his hand to Faye, who goggled at it as though it were a diamond ring suddenly found in the couch cushions. Finally, she put her hand in his.
"Truce," she said, quietly.
"Now that's something I'll drink to! Come on, let's get some of those noodles!" He held out his arm to escort a still baffled Faye to the living room.
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"Well, kid, you've got talent. That I can see. I'm lookin' for ambition too. You got any of that up your sleeve?" The small, middle-aged man squinted down the alley, trying to pick out which of the dark blotches was the skittish youth he saw fight a few minutes ago.
"I do indeed," came the faint, echoing reply.
"Let me take you back to headquarters and get you fixed up and fed. You can talk to the elders when you're in better shape."
"I'm in fine shape. A meal, however, would be much appreciated," came the voice as a thin shadow detached itself from the wall and approached the stocky man.
"What's your name, boy?"
"Spike Spiegel. And I'm hardly a boy."
"Odd name; I like it. Mao Yenrai."
"Thanks."
"You do this often? Attacking people in alleys?"
The young man chuckled dryly. "As little as possible. I'm a small-time thief and part-time arms smuggler, so I try to stay away from groups. I guess these guys somehow got wind of a shipment of explosives and thought I was the guy with the cash. They wanted to beef their way in. Too bad for them my jackass of a foster father had me trained in Jeet Kun Do." He spat on the ground. "Only good thing the bastard ever did."
"Arms, smuggling, eh? I know a little about that. I don't suppose you've heard of the Red Dragons, have ya, kid?"
"Oh haven't I, old man? Everyone and their brother wants to be a member of the most powerful syndicate on Mars"
"How old are ya, kid?"
"Almost 21, old man."
"Touché. I think you'll get along well with Vicious. You're about the same age. Julia is going to go bananas over you. She always did over those kung-fu types."
Spike smiled quietly to himself. This was working out well.
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"Quite surprising, I'd say."
"What, that Jet left us with an edible meal before he ditched us to traipse across the solar system to look for some psycho bitch?"
"No, that you've been quiet the whole damn meal."
"I thought you were trying to be friendly?"
"I am. That's just an observation."
"Hmph. Quit while you're ahead."
"Faye? You really think I'm attractive?"
"What?!" Faye looked up, startled, a noodle hanging from the side of her mouth as she gaped at Spike. A slow flush crept over her cheeks. "Uh-I-er, that is-" she sputtered, before hastily swallowing her bite. She stared hard at the floor as she said, "Well, yea. You're a handsome man."
"Hm."
"Hm?! I just bared my soul to you, and all you can say is 'hm'? Well, do you think I'm attractive?!"
"Sure. You've got boobs. By default, you're attractive."
"That's not what I mean."
"Sure it is. Are you physically attractive, that's the question, right? Faye, you're an attractive woman. There, I said it."
"Thanks, lunkhead. And on that note, I'm going to bed."
"Alright, sleep well Ms. Hotpants."
"Don't push your luck."
"You know it."
Faye snorted and turned out the light.
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Yaa! Done! Midterms tomorrow, then Spring Break! Wahoo! I would've finished this earlier but I had the personal relationship week from hell. No joke. Anyhoo, zat's all for now, but expect much much writing to come out of me from my 2.5 hour plane ride home (if I don't sleep).
All my reviewers *sniffle* I love you so! Thanks so much, it means a lot to hear y'all say you like my writing.
Thanks again to mine Beta reader, Lady Athena (read 'Developments'!!)
Also, on an entirely unrelated note, check out www.casshern.com, which is the site for a very cool looking Japanese film. Check out the trailer! (in Japanese, sry!)
ADDITONAL NOTE!: I have a new little project that I'm working on. It's purely an 'Ed' project . . . and it's a parody of one of my favorite childhood stories. So stay tuned!