(A/N- No, this fic is, in fact, NOT dead! I actually have a lame excuse for
why I left it at a single chapter for a year or so. See, I got the second
chapter written, but my computer inexplicably deleted it from my disk,
and... yeah, I said it was lame... Well, here goes Chapter 2!)
.
My fingers were hurting. I thought back to those days when I was flexible enough - and had short enough legs - to type with my toes when my hands got tired with the utmost longing. Maybe nobody realized it, but even Radical Edward's hands started to cramp after hours of continuous typing. But, when you were low on money and minus your best operatives, there was really no option but to stay up all day and all night searching for a few choice bountyheads. And Jet had advised me to get some sleep. Hah! As if I'd do something like that?
Well, I'd tried to. Damn insomnia. I looked down at the Welsh corgi laying in my lap. HE didn't have any trouble falling asleep. He wasn't as smart as the original Ein, but he was still fuzzy and cute and fun to play with. Not that I had any time to play anymore. No, those carefree days had followed Spike and Faye off the ship. Now I had to be serious; not to mention, I had to take Faye's old role as the sex appeal when the job called for it. I didn't have her body, but I could pull off the "young-and- helpless" thing pretty well. A lot of men apparently liked that. At least I got to shoot them in the foot if they got fresh. Why the foot? Because it hurts bad and it doesn't kill 'em, so you get your money AND your revenge for an unwelcome grope or two. Because no one grabs my ass and gets away with it. Damn, Faye was starting to rub off on me.
I rubbed my eyes and stared back at the computer screen. Geez, now the words were running together.
"Screw it, I need some coffee," I muttered, turning off the monitor and getting up. Ein gave a yip of protest as he fell from my lap onto the floor. Oops, I'd forgotten that he was there. He glared at me before jumping back onto the bed, curling up, and going back to sleep. "It was an accident, no reason to get all pissed at me," I explained to the sleeping pooch. He didn't care.
I shrugged and headed out to the kitchen, being as quiet as possible since I knew Jet was asleep. He always hated being woken up, and as old as he was getting, he needed rest to stay in action when I DID find some good bounties. What WAS the average life expectancy for a man? Well, whatever it was, Jet would have even less time. He still smoked, not constantly like Spike always had, but enough. Then when you factored in the heavy drinking... In a few years, it might be only me and Ein on the Bebop, and that scared the hell outta me. Maybe I'd go live with Faye and Paige when he...
'I've lost everything that made me what I was,' I thought shaking my head. I used to be the one without a care in the world - the happy one. Not anymore. Now I was on the verge of needing some serious valium sometimes. I don't know, sometime after Spike and Faye left, life just stopped being fun. Hacking was work, not play; I didn't have birthdays anymore, I just got one year closer to wrinkles, grey hair, and death.
"This sucks," I grumbled as I started to go about making a pot of coffee. Strong coffee. Maybe with a few shots in it, too. Nah, maybe not; Jet was pretty protective of his booze. Eh, it all tasted like shit anyhow.
The doorbell rang as I was contemplating what had become of my life. This seemed rather suspicious until I remembered that we had, in fact, stopped on Mars. Duh, Edward. Honestly, where was my brain lately?
"Who could possibly want to bother us this late?" I asked myself rhetorically as I headed for the door. Hesitated. Picked up the metal baseball bat leaning against the wall, and continued toward the door. Being the bait for rapists and such makes a girl paranoid - for good reason.
I snuck a look through the little peep-hole thingy (for lack of a better word. Does ANYONE know what those are really called? I may be a genius, but that was ridiculous). There was a tall, thin, male figure in the shadows, accompanied by the glow of a lit cigarette. WHY do they always stand in the shadows? God, men always have to make a dramatic and sinister entrance, don't they? Oh well, if he didn't have a damn good reason to be there, he was going to eat my bat pretty soon. I took a deep breath and opened the door a little, poking my head out.
"Can I help you?" I asked. He stepped into the light just then, and I couldn't believe my eyes.
"Uh, is-" he couldn't finish the question, as old instincts took over and I let out a happy squeal, launched myself at him, and wrapped my arms around him tightly. "Um, do I know you?" I let go of him and pouted dejectedly.
"Spike, you don't remember me?" I asked sadly. Something in his head must have clicked, because his jaw dropped and he just sort of stared at me in disbelief.
"Edward?!"
"Yay! You remember me!" I chirped, hugging him again. He cleared his throat.
"Ed, would you mind not doing that? It's a little...awkward." Oh, so that was it. I'd forgotten that I was wearing only a T-shirt, socks, and panties at the time. Whoops. Guess he wasn't used to being glomped by half- dressed girls he'd last seen as thirteen-year-old kids.
"Sorry about that," I said rather sheepishly. Okay, I was over my slight embarrassment. I grabbed him by the wrist. "Come on!" I sang, pulling him inside. "Do you want some coffee?"
"No, that's fine," he replied, still giving me that look, like he was trying to comprehend that this was how I looked now. I got that look from Faye and Jet all the time, too.
"You sure?" I asked.
"Yeah. Hey, where's-?"
"Ed? What's going on?" So, I'd ended up waking Jet anyway.
"JET! SPIKE CAME HOME!" I called happily, resisting the urge to start bouncing up and down.
"WHAT?!" Running footsteps down the hall, and my father-figure showed up in the room with a very surprised expression on his face. "Well, speak of the devil." Then he got sight of me. "Damn it, Edward, get some clothes on!"
.
.
'Damn, Jet looks old,' Spike thought. His friend was now completely bald, and his black beard was flecked with more than a little bit of grey. Not to mention all the new wrinkles that had appeared on his face. You'd think the two of them would have a lot to talk about after nearly sixteen years without speaking, yet they sat in complete silence. Smoking and drinking, naturally.
"So," Jet began. "What have you been doing?" Spike shrugged.
"Stuff," he responded. "What have you been doing?"
"Same as before: catching the bad guys and bringing them in for however much cash we can get. Which, as usual, isn't nearly enough."
More silence.
"Never thought I'd see Edward with tits," Spike remarked a few moments later. "Reminds me of how old I really am."
"Me too. We're just all getting that much closer to death."
"Depressing."
"Yep."
"Men like us weren't made for conversation."
"Hell no." They both cleared their throats, listening idly to the mysterious clatter Ed was making in the kitchen as she did... something that seemed to require the use of quite a bit of silverware, from the sound of it.
"So...how's Faye been?"
"Oh...she's been...good."
"Is...she around?"
"She moved out fourteen years ago. Lives here on Mars, actually, about seven hours away in the country; I'm surprised you haven't seen her around."
"I don't make it a point to hang out in the boonies," Spike informed. "Can't see why Faye would, either. There probably isn't a casino around for miles."
"She's not a big gambler anymore."
Spike's shock was such that his jaw dropped for a second time that night, sending his smoldering cigarette onto his left leg, where it burned a hole in his pants.
"Are you guys talking about Faye?" Ed asked, returning from the kitchen with a large, steaming mug of black coffee and sitting cross-legged on the couch next to Spike. Jet tried for a moment to deduce exactly WHAT she'd made all that racket in the kitchen for, if all she had apparently done was make a pot of coffee, but then he decided he was probably going to be happier not knowing.
"Were you eavesdropping?" Spike retorted, examining the burn hole in his trousers with a bit of embarrassment that he'd done something so dumb.
"We were planning on visiting Faye in a week or two," Ed continued, "after we bring in the latest bountyhead. You could help us out - be like old times." Spike shook his head.
"My bounty hunting days are over," he said. "I'm forty-three years old, and to be perfectly honest, I can't do half the stuff I used to be able to."
Jet chose not to mention the fact that he, himself, was fifty-two and still in action. Instead, he said, "Suit yourself. But if you want to go visit Faye while Ed and I are working, I could write down her address for you."
"Eh, I don't think she'd really want to see me...would she?"
Ed and Jet exchanged a look, hinting that they knew something Spike didn't, but he couldn't figure out what it could possibly be. He had the fleeting suspicion that maybe Faye had gotten herself married, and that's what they were worried about, but then decided it was highly doubtful.
"I think you should go see her," Ed advised. "I mean, it'll take the two of us some time to get everything in order before we head to her place, so you guys'll have a while to catch up on lost time."
Spike could have sworn he heard Jet mutter "While we're safely absent" under his breath, but it was probably just his imagination.
He hoped.
(A/N- Well, here you have a plot point! Everybody say YAY! And, uh, be happy that I finally updated this thing...)
.
My fingers were hurting. I thought back to those days when I was flexible enough - and had short enough legs - to type with my toes when my hands got tired with the utmost longing. Maybe nobody realized it, but even Radical Edward's hands started to cramp after hours of continuous typing. But, when you were low on money and minus your best operatives, there was really no option but to stay up all day and all night searching for a few choice bountyheads. And Jet had advised me to get some sleep. Hah! As if I'd do something like that?
Well, I'd tried to. Damn insomnia. I looked down at the Welsh corgi laying in my lap. HE didn't have any trouble falling asleep. He wasn't as smart as the original Ein, but he was still fuzzy and cute and fun to play with. Not that I had any time to play anymore. No, those carefree days had followed Spike and Faye off the ship. Now I had to be serious; not to mention, I had to take Faye's old role as the sex appeal when the job called for it. I didn't have her body, but I could pull off the "young-and- helpless" thing pretty well. A lot of men apparently liked that. At least I got to shoot them in the foot if they got fresh. Why the foot? Because it hurts bad and it doesn't kill 'em, so you get your money AND your revenge for an unwelcome grope or two. Because no one grabs my ass and gets away with it. Damn, Faye was starting to rub off on me.
I rubbed my eyes and stared back at the computer screen. Geez, now the words were running together.
"Screw it, I need some coffee," I muttered, turning off the monitor and getting up. Ein gave a yip of protest as he fell from my lap onto the floor. Oops, I'd forgotten that he was there. He glared at me before jumping back onto the bed, curling up, and going back to sleep. "It was an accident, no reason to get all pissed at me," I explained to the sleeping pooch. He didn't care.
I shrugged and headed out to the kitchen, being as quiet as possible since I knew Jet was asleep. He always hated being woken up, and as old as he was getting, he needed rest to stay in action when I DID find some good bounties. What WAS the average life expectancy for a man? Well, whatever it was, Jet would have even less time. He still smoked, not constantly like Spike always had, but enough. Then when you factored in the heavy drinking... In a few years, it might be only me and Ein on the Bebop, and that scared the hell outta me. Maybe I'd go live with Faye and Paige when he...
'I've lost everything that made me what I was,' I thought shaking my head. I used to be the one without a care in the world - the happy one. Not anymore. Now I was on the verge of needing some serious valium sometimes. I don't know, sometime after Spike and Faye left, life just stopped being fun. Hacking was work, not play; I didn't have birthdays anymore, I just got one year closer to wrinkles, grey hair, and death.
"This sucks," I grumbled as I started to go about making a pot of coffee. Strong coffee. Maybe with a few shots in it, too. Nah, maybe not; Jet was pretty protective of his booze. Eh, it all tasted like shit anyhow.
The doorbell rang as I was contemplating what had become of my life. This seemed rather suspicious until I remembered that we had, in fact, stopped on Mars. Duh, Edward. Honestly, where was my brain lately?
"Who could possibly want to bother us this late?" I asked myself rhetorically as I headed for the door. Hesitated. Picked up the metal baseball bat leaning against the wall, and continued toward the door. Being the bait for rapists and such makes a girl paranoid - for good reason.
I snuck a look through the little peep-hole thingy (for lack of a better word. Does ANYONE know what those are really called? I may be a genius, but that was ridiculous). There was a tall, thin, male figure in the shadows, accompanied by the glow of a lit cigarette. WHY do they always stand in the shadows? God, men always have to make a dramatic and sinister entrance, don't they? Oh well, if he didn't have a damn good reason to be there, he was going to eat my bat pretty soon. I took a deep breath and opened the door a little, poking my head out.
"Can I help you?" I asked. He stepped into the light just then, and I couldn't believe my eyes.
"Uh, is-" he couldn't finish the question, as old instincts took over and I let out a happy squeal, launched myself at him, and wrapped my arms around him tightly. "Um, do I know you?" I let go of him and pouted dejectedly.
"Spike, you don't remember me?" I asked sadly. Something in his head must have clicked, because his jaw dropped and he just sort of stared at me in disbelief.
"Edward?!"
"Yay! You remember me!" I chirped, hugging him again. He cleared his throat.
"Ed, would you mind not doing that? It's a little...awkward." Oh, so that was it. I'd forgotten that I was wearing only a T-shirt, socks, and panties at the time. Whoops. Guess he wasn't used to being glomped by half- dressed girls he'd last seen as thirteen-year-old kids.
"Sorry about that," I said rather sheepishly. Okay, I was over my slight embarrassment. I grabbed him by the wrist. "Come on!" I sang, pulling him inside. "Do you want some coffee?"
"No, that's fine," he replied, still giving me that look, like he was trying to comprehend that this was how I looked now. I got that look from Faye and Jet all the time, too.
"You sure?" I asked.
"Yeah. Hey, where's-?"
"Ed? What's going on?" So, I'd ended up waking Jet anyway.
"JET! SPIKE CAME HOME!" I called happily, resisting the urge to start bouncing up and down.
"WHAT?!" Running footsteps down the hall, and my father-figure showed up in the room with a very surprised expression on his face. "Well, speak of the devil." Then he got sight of me. "Damn it, Edward, get some clothes on!"
.
.
'Damn, Jet looks old,' Spike thought. His friend was now completely bald, and his black beard was flecked with more than a little bit of grey. Not to mention all the new wrinkles that had appeared on his face. You'd think the two of them would have a lot to talk about after nearly sixteen years without speaking, yet they sat in complete silence. Smoking and drinking, naturally.
"So," Jet began. "What have you been doing?" Spike shrugged.
"Stuff," he responded. "What have you been doing?"
"Same as before: catching the bad guys and bringing them in for however much cash we can get. Which, as usual, isn't nearly enough."
More silence.
"Never thought I'd see Edward with tits," Spike remarked a few moments later. "Reminds me of how old I really am."
"Me too. We're just all getting that much closer to death."
"Depressing."
"Yep."
"Men like us weren't made for conversation."
"Hell no." They both cleared their throats, listening idly to the mysterious clatter Ed was making in the kitchen as she did... something that seemed to require the use of quite a bit of silverware, from the sound of it.
"So...how's Faye been?"
"Oh...she's been...good."
"Is...she around?"
"She moved out fourteen years ago. Lives here on Mars, actually, about seven hours away in the country; I'm surprised you haven't seen her around."
"I don't make it a point to hang out in the boonies," Spike informed. "Can't see why Faye would, either. There probably isn't a casino around for miles."
"She's not a big gambler anymore."
Spike's shock was such that his jaw dropped for a second time that night, sending his smoldering cigarette onto his left leg, where it burned a hole in his pants.
"Are you guys talking about Faye?" Ed asked, returning from the kitchen with a large, steaming mug of black coffee and sitting cross-legged on the couch next to Spike. Jet tried for a moment to deduce exactly WHAT she'd made all that racket in the kitchen for, if all she had apparently done was make a pot of coffee, but then he decided he was probably going to be happier not knowing.
"Were you eavesdropping?" Spike retorted, examining the burn hole in his trousers with a bit of embarrassment that he'd done something so dumb.
"We were planning on visiting Faye in a week or two," Ed continued, "after we bring in the latest bountyhead. You could help us out - be like old times." Spike shook his head.
"My bounty hunting days are over," he said. "I'm forty-three years old, and to be perfectly honest, I can't do half the stuff I used to be able to."
Jet chose not to mention the fact that he, himself, was fifty-two and still in action. Instead, he said, "Suit yourself. But if you want to go visit Faye while Ed and I are working, I could write down her address for you."
"Eh, I don't think she'd really want to see me...would she?"
Ed and Jet exchanged a look, hinting that they knew something Spike didn't, but he couldn't figure out what it could possibly be. He had the fleeting suspicion that maybe Faye had gotten herself married, and that's what they were worried about, but then decided it was highly doubtful.
"I think you should go see her," Ed advised. "I mean, it'll take the two of us some time to get everything in order before we head to her place, so you guys'll have a while to catch up on lost time."
Spike could have sworn he heard Jet mutter "While we're safely absent" under his breath, but it was probably just his imagination.
He hoped.
(A/N- Well, here you have a plot point! Everybody say YAY! And, uh, be happy that I finally updated this thing...)