Shotgun Part One of Three:

So kiss me I'm shitfaced
I'm soaked I'm soiled and brown
In the trousers she kissed me
And I only bought her one round.

Dropkick Murphys, Kiss me I'm Shitfaced

"Get out before I shoot you." She drawled shedding the holster and sighing as she reached for the pack of cigarettes sitting on the countertop.

"It's been three years and that's all the greeting you can come up with." His tacky blue suit wrinkled against the wear smoothed leather of her sofa. Her hand slid toward the gun again.

"Where are the others?" she had barely voiced it before Ed latched onto her leg. Dark eyebrows pulled together as the woman looked down at the red headed leech. "Get off me Ed." She growled.

And was ignored, "FAYE-FAYE!" the teenager squealed, and the violet headed woman rolled her eyes.

When she looked up again her eyes met the mix-matched brown of his. "Get out." She growled, a cigarette sat between her lips, moving as she spoke. "I will shoot you Spike Spiegel without a second thought, now get out of my house." Her voice was so cold he had trouble recognizing who she had been.

Jet with Ed firmly attached to his arm was standing at the door. "Let's go Spike." He said softly, and Faye looked over at him, green eyes catching on faded blue. He looked older, and was leaning heavily on his cane, sorrow twinged then was gone. The pair left the small house and stood waiting outside, no idea what was going on behind the doors.

They stood alone in the darkness and Faye smirked slightly at the man who had once been her dream. "I've told you twice. I won't do it again."

Spike tapped out another smoke, and lit it without a word, "Something's changed about you Faye. It doesn't suit." He said finally tapping ash onto her floor.

Faye felt her eyebrow being to twitch in frustration, "You're in no place to tell me anything." She growled, hand wrapped around the gun. "Get out."

"You won't shoot." He said softly and walked toward her. Faye raised the gun and fired, the blast ripping through the room as the bullet tore through his thigh. Spike tumbled to the ground swearing and loosing his cigarette. "Christ Faye! What the hell was that?"

Faye walked over to him, and knocked him back, grinding her heel into his thigh. "Last time we met was three years ago." She said as he grunted and curled toward her, "I will never forget it." Her voice was a mere hiss as she knelt, most of her weight leaned against him, "I forgave it every time but that. I needed you," she shifted off him, "I needed you to need me. You didn't. You wanted her." She touched his face softly almost sweetly, "You sad son of a bitch." She ran her fingers over his closed eyelids as his chest heaved. Her back arched outward as she leaned down to whisper in his ear. "Do you remember? Do you remember what you whispered to me that night? Do you remember, Vicious?" spite dropped through her words as he jerked up rage flashing across his face. He raised his hand to strike her and she didn't move just stared at him, green eyes dead as she looked into his brown. Pain seeped through the color and he froze, sitting there looking down at her face. There were tears on it.

"Why?" he managed through gritted teeth.

Faye didn't move, didn't even blink, "Because of her." She had imagined this moment for so long, but never had seen the pain in his eyes. "You loved her even as you made me scream." His hand dropped to his side as he stared at her.

"I didn't..." he wetted his lips.

Faye stood, an easy motion made hard, "Get out." She whispered as she swiped a hand across her face vanishing the tears.

Spike stood, right leg protesting "Faye." His voice whispered across her.

She didn't look back at him, "I wanted you. I want you." Faye whispered barely audible. "Still, seven years later." He watched her turn to look up at him, so innocent and so hard, "Still Spiegel. You crushed me so many times," there was a disbelief in her voice and her Jericho clattered onto the counter. "and I still want you." Spike blinked at her in confusion, fumbling for a smoke, she threw the pack at him. "Next time, I wont miss." She turned away from him, one hand pulling the gun off the counter with the scrape of metal on Formica. "Don't be here when I get back." She said and his chest went tight as he watched her walk away. Jeans curved with her hips, stroking her thighs, and he watched, wondering as she dropped the coat off her shoulders and it hit the floor. A white tank top hugged her torso, stained with blood, there were new scars, new rips across her skin. He ran a hand through his puffy green hair and scowled.

Jet was standing in the doorway watching him, but didn't say a word as Spike limped over to and past him, walking down the hall leaving blood stains on the carpet. Jet followed him and Ed trailed after them, twirling round randomly to watch the stars move.

Night took hold of the world as they walked away, and Faye stood in the shower, pinked water running down the drain, the stain from the gash in her side. Her fingers traced across the flesh, digging into the wound, finding the last traces of glass and dropping them to the tile. She leaned against the wall, forearm against the tiles, forehead against her arm; water pounded down on her as she rolled her neck and grimaced.

Why'd he have to come? Why did he have to show up now, here? Why should he be here? She touched the slice again and groaned. "Fuck." She muttered, rolling the knob off and reaching for a towel. Her hand grabbed at thin air and she growled, repressing the urge to use more profanity. The floor was slick as she stepped out carefully, standing naked in her bathroom. The three-way full length mirror in the corner shown back the image of a woman as damaged as she was beautiful.

Faye traced her fingers over the scar that coiled around her arm, product of a red hot wire, then turned, ignoring the water that trailed down her skin as she looked at the bullet scars in her right shoulder, two of them, both through and through. A knife wound opposite the fresh, she continued to turn, examining the scars on her back with prodding fingers. They hadn't been there when he was with her, the scars were all barely two years old. She shook her head, "How'd you let this happen?" she asked the image of her, seeing him reflected back. Pale fingers brushed back purple hair impatiently, green eyes flashed in the dull light and the mirror shattered, glass spraying across her, knuckles aching. It was all his fault in the end; he had touched her and seen Julia, she had needed him and he had left her and all that anger had built up, and in the end, he had taught her to rage.

She had re-entered the bounty hunting business about four years ago, and had been happy for a while. Then the hunting had gotten boring, the bounties too small, too easy. She had turned her attentions to bigger prey, and when that got old, she had thrown herself into a dozen bad relations. Her fingers landed on the lopsided triangle of cigarette burns on her bicep and she growled. Then she shook her head and pulled a t-shirt on. Water pooled on the tiles around her feet and rolled down her skin as she walked into her bedroom and pulled on the straight black cargos, sighing softly. The phone rang and went straight to the machine, she listened with half an ear as one of her informants talked.

"I know you said not to bother you anymore," the voice said, "but, I have something really good this time. Not worth much, but still, oh Faye, you're going to like this. Worth 90 mil. Goes by the name of Spiegel. Spike Spiegel."

Faye hit the speaker button, "Its mine." She said softly, and hung up on him. A smile pulled at her lips gently. "Finally this fucked up universe throws me something decent."

She dropped six months rent on her landlords desk the next morning, and told him she might be gone a while, he asked who it was, Faye smiled crookedly, "Just the next paycheck." He watched her hips swing as she walked out his door.

It took her half a day to find the Bebop, the other to get there. Dawn was just tracing through the sky, rose and pale cream floating on a sea of dark blue. She had to go half way across the planet, "Only Spike would put me to this much trouble." She growled, flicking on her radio and scanning through the stations.

The Bebop was docked in a bay near La Fin, and she rolled her eyes. "Men." Was her half-growl as she set the ship down blocks away and checked her gear before tossing her leather jacket over all of it. She had become a fan of the weight of her Jericho at the small of her back, and the feel of the Glock under her arm. Familiarity was a strange concept to her, but like for most, it was a comforting feeling. That same feeling slid down her spine as she walked into Bebop without pausing.

Echoes of silence traced around her, touching her skin softly. Her vintage sneakers barely sounded on the metal floors, the twists of the halls were easy to make as she walked; he would be in the living room, sleeping on that stupid yellow sofa. She had drawn her weapon as she pushed the door open listening to its hydraulic hiss; he was there, stretched out on the couch. Faye smirked as she walked down the steps, not bothering to be sly, they knew she was here.

"I knew you would come." Spike said from the couch, "You never did have much sense when money was involved."

"If you come with me I wont have to shoot you again." Faux sweetness dripped into her voice as she aimed the semiautomatic at his head.

Spike sat up and rubbed a hand over his hair and Jet walked out of the shadows. Faye drew her second gun, aiming it at the man, "Don't be stupid Jet. I won't let you rob me of this."

Jet leaned against his cane and frowned, "Why'd you come?" he asked softly.

Faye smiled, and drew down on Spike as well, "Because its all I can do." She said so softly.

"You were comrades once." The older man said softly, limping forward.

"And you were whole."

Jet smiled and ran a hand over his bald crown, "Maybe, but I can't just let you walk out of here with him."

Spike stood up like a man unfolding, "Alright Faye," he mumbled, and she snapped a pair of cuffs onto his thin wrist but didn't clasp them behind him, and as she pressed them closed, she could feel the closeness of his body.

She caught the chain and pulled him over; as they walked past Jet she paused and looked up at him, a strange softness on her face. Jet nodded to her and she walked on. Spike limp behind her and she walked slow. "Why'd you miss?" he asked suddenly and she frowned.

"I don't want you dead Spiegel." She said softly, "I never have."

"You think I'll make it all the way to prison?"

Faye turned to look at him, stopping in the hall, "No Spike. I know you'll be dead before the money's cooled in my hands."

"You still going to take me in."

"You're just rent Spiegel, rent with a pretty face." She turned and pulled him out of the ship. The Jericho still rested in her hand, but the Glock had disappeared into its holster. She jerked the chain and walked on.

As they walked off the ship Spike stretched his arms and locked his fingers together behind his head and Faye ignored the looks that people were sending them. "I thought you'd gotten out." He said as they closed the distance to her ship.

Faye shrugged, thankful that he couldn't see the grimace that crossed her face. "Couldn't get another job." She drawled.

"Not even as a stripper?"

"Be thankful I don't get a reward if you're dead." She growled opening the cockpit and pushing him in. She slid into the ship and started it up. "Besides, its an easy way to make rent."

Spike chuckled and reached into his pocket digging out a bent cigarette and tucking it between his lips. "Is that really all people are to you Faye? Just another paycheck?"

Faye sighed as the started into the air. "Sometimes things are just that easy." She muttered not looking over to see his reaction.

They rode in silence only the sigh of Spike dragging of the cigarette filling the air. There was nothing for them to say, it had all been said, or it didn't matter. Faye landed the ship in the lot a block away from her neighborhood. "Come on." She sighed and pulled him out of the ship.

Spike looked around with a lazy glance and stretched again. "Why'd we come back here?"

"I need a few things." She said, pulling a cigarette out of its pack and lighting it. Pale smoke rose through the air brushed from her lips with an impatient breath. Spike shrugged and listened to her key grate in the lock. Hinges screeched as she pushed back the door and yanked on the handcuffs.

"Pushy aren't we?" Spike drawled as she dropped her coat in the entry way, the leather of her shoulder holster glowing in the faint light. A stillness crept over him as he looked at her, "You're bleeding." He said softly.

"Huh?" Faye asked, then looked down at the pain that bloomed in her side. "Fuck." She hissed, touching the crimson stain Spike stepped close to her and shook his head, raising the marked cotton to look at the gash. Faye looked away from him, ignoring the feel of his fingers gentle against her skin.

"You should have gotten stitches." He murmured letting the shirt fall.

Faye smirked, "I didn't have the time." Eyes the color of emeralds looked up at him and Spike arched an eyebrow at her.

"You got a kit?"

She nodded, "Under the sink."

Spike turned contemplating whether or not it was hazardous to keep emergency supplies with the drain cleaner. The handcuffs rattled gently as he picked up the first aid kit and set it on the counter beside her. Faye uncuffed one of his hands and Spike lifted her shirt once more. Blood stuck to cotton, making the shirt stick to her skin as he peeled it away. "Jesus Spike." She growled and he smirked but didn't look up from his work. White dish towels hit the floor stained red and she winced as he slid the threaded needle through her skin. Her breathing sped up as pain hammered her system, sledgehammer ringing on her soul.

His fingers slid over the fresh stitches gently. "Stop being such a girl." He said softly looking down at her. Faye looked up at him, not even trying to hide the emotion that fled to the surface of her eyes. "Don't look at me like that."

Faye brushed her t-shirt back down and snapped the open cuff onto the stainless steel rod that ran the edge of her kitchen counter. "Not a problem." She said softly, eyes emptying as she spoke; he watched her hips sway as she walked away from him into the shabby living room; long pale fingers reached out and pressed the play button on her answering machine.

"You have four new messages." She flicked through them, ignoring two from informants and pausing on the third.

Her body stilled as she listened to the message, and Spike's forehead wrinkled. "What?" he asked.

"Valentine." A dark voice floated over the line. "I haven't finished with you yet." It whispered and she smacked the stop button and shook her head clear.

"Faye?" Spike asked, voice going hard, "Who the hell was that?"

Faye laughed airily and walked over to the computer, "Doesn't matter. Its history."

"Didn't sound like it."

"Doesn't matter what it sounds like." She said, "I'll handle it."

Spike didn't look convinced as she walked out of the room. Doors slammed as he listened, quietly watching her computer hum to life. "You have mail." That computer voice chirped softly and he arched an eyebrow.

"Yo Faye!" he called and she walked in, violet hair hanging wet in her eyes, towel tossed around her shoulders.

Green eyes flashed in the half light "What?" she growled and he jerked his chin toward the glowing screen.

"You got mail." Faye narrowed her eyes at him.

She turned to the computer and scrolled through the new messages, tension rolled across her back and off as Spike watched. His eyebrows pulled together before he had time to think about it. The small house echoed with tension as she moved to switch the screen off and walked away from him again. "The Martian government is paying your bounty," she called down the hall, and he heard the water roll on in the sink, "What'd you do this time?" she called.

"Nothing 'cept blow up a few buildings."

"Christ Spike." She sighed, but it got lost in the gurgle as she massaged shampoo into her violet hair then rinsed it back out again. She growled leaning over the sink watching the water drip onto the white porcelain. Only in her life would a bounty blow up buildings. She moaned and hit the wall, letting the tile shatter under her knuckles. There went her security deposit. She walked into her bedroom, easing aching muscles as she stretched glad he couldn't see her. She changed clothes, battered jeans and an emerald green tank top. Her leather shoulder holster buckled easily under her fingers, and after a moment she stood there rubbing her calloused fingertips together with a frown on her face. Palms up in the dull light she stared at her hands, the calluses that crisscrossed the once perfect skin. A sigh parted her lips as she turned, ignoring the way her hands stung with memories.

The Jericho added the extra weight the holster needed to sit perfectly. She walked back out of the room and stood in the doorway to the open living/kitchen area. Spike watched her from his leaning post at the counter. He was looking at the scar on her arm and arched an eyebrow. Faye reached up and touched the mark, then flicked her wet hair out of her eyes. With a jerk she pulled open the fridge, pulling out a beer and passing one to him. "Aren't I your prisoner?" he asked, the girl rolled her eyes.

"Cruel and Unusual Punishment." She drawled.

"Huh?"

The girl turned to look at him, "On earth, before the Gate. The Eight Amendment of the Constitution of the United States of America."

"Huh?"

Faye rolled her eyes, "Nevermind." She turned and sank onto the couch, swiveling the computer screen and picking up the keyboard as she did. The click of her fingers flying over the keys echoed around the quiet house as she got in touch with some of her contacts. Getting the details off the bounty and where the hell she was supposed to take him. Plastic clattered onto the glass table top as Faye dropped the keyboard and stood.

"We're leaving." She said softly unbuttoning his coat with one hand and sliding the other under the faded blue to trace the butt of his gun. Spike was staring down at the way her purple hair hung wet against the back of her neck; he shoved aside the feelings with hesitation as she stepped away from him without the gun.

The door banged in and six men emptied into the building, guns raised and every dot was centered on Faye's back. Spike jerked, the handcuffs rattling as they pulled him to a stop. Faye brushed a hand through her wet hair and turned round sighing softly. "You boys just can't get" her words slowed as he walked through the door, the voice on the machine, her own personal demon. "enough." She finished the sentence as he walked down the steps into her living room.

"Hello baby."