Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Faye sat in her room on the Bebop, contemplating her makeup and trying not to think too hard about a certain curly-headed Cowboy who was back on the ship. Back on the ship and mostly back in one piece, now that they’d separated him from the Red Dragon Tower by several months. When she’d pulled him out of the wreckage that day, she was convinced he was dead. 

They all were. 

And yet. 

He breathed. 

He lived. 

And now that he could walk and talk and think coherently again, he was just as annoying as he was before. Complaining about the state of the food, the state of the ship, and the state of his companions. Jet had been dragging him out on small bounties just to give him something to do. That helped. 

Sort of. 

Because even when he wasn’t on the ship, Faye found her thoughts straying to him more and more. 

Ed started making kissy faces at her behind his back. 

Faye nearly punched her the last time she did it, but Ed danced nimbly out of the way with her usual, “No, no, Faye Faye!” 

Which, of course, made him look over his shoulder at Faye with that eyebrow cocked, cigarette dangling from his lips, deck of cards flowing through his agile fingers even though he wasn’t looking at them. He’d dealt his and Jet’s hands for their next round of poker while looking Faye in the eye. 

Faye looked away first. 

She shivered and slammed her makeup brush down on the table. “Stupid cards, stupid cowboy,” she muttered. “Why do I even care?! It’s not like he cares about me. He’s just a dead-end road, Faye.” 

Even when she’d all but told him to his face that she loved him, he walked away. Walked away and almost died. 

Dumbass cowboy. 

She huffed and rummaged in her make-up bag, looking for her lipstick case. When she pulled it out, she stopped, the light catching and reflecting off a thin line of tick marks scored on the lid.  

Twelve.

Twelve dates. 

Twelve nights. 

Twelve wallets. 

Faye smirked. 

Poker Alice’s conquests. She’d broken all their hearts, after pulling them in and wrapping them so tight around her little finger they’d barely been able to breathe. They were all handsome, she supposed, in their own ways, though she couldn’t specifically bring any of their faces to mind anymore. They all sort of blended into a blandly handsome man with a nice jawline, a suit, and the right things to say to a girl looking to steal his money. 

She traced the ticks with one finger.

The next would be unlucky number thirteen. 

She hadn’t put a mark on the lipstick case in over a year now. Running with the Bebop, she hadn’t needed to. Even though she griped about it, she’d come to enjoy Jet’s company and Ed’s shenanigans, and even the furball’s soft cuddles. And the...sort of...steady income.

But especially the bemused gaze of one lean, dark-headed cowboy. 

Who didn’t seem to notice that his glance sent her heart leaping into her throat.

Faye shook her head. “Get it together, girl. He’s an impossible target.” 

Impossible. 

Faye paused. 

No one was impossible. Not for Faye Valentine. There wasn’t a warm-blooded man on the nine planets who could resist Faye forever. 

He was certainly cold-blooded enough, but there had to be a spark in there somewhere, right? 

Faye slid one finger across the empty space where mark number thirteen would go. 

One more conquest. 

One last tick. 

Faye smiled. He’d be difficult, obviously. He’d be the hardest case yet. He’d resist. He’d complain. And it wasn’t even like there was a wallet at the end of this one for her. 

But maybe...maybe there’d be something else. Something better. 

Mark thirteen. 

Spike Spiegel. 

Faye pulled a vibrant red out of the case and painted her lips. 

Chapter Text

“Faye, what are we doing?” Spike put his hands behind his head and stretched as he followed her down the Ganymede docks. They’d docked the Bebop for now, awaiting a few minor repairs after their last bounty. Spike winced at the top of the stretch, though he tried to hide it by slouching casually. 

Faye pretended she didn’t notice. Although it had been months since the tower incident, there were still movements that stymied Spike. Faye supposed that recovering from gunshots, explosions, and a freaking katana in your gut took time. A long time. He’d managed to get out of it without too many noticeable scars, just a thin one near his hairline that was hidden by those shaggy locks most days. But the times he didn’t put his shirt on? Well, those times made Faye want to wince for him. Without cosmetic intervention, he’d live with those scars for the rest of his life. 

“Hey, Earth to Faye.” Spike waved a hand in front of her face. 

Faye jumped, realizing she’d stopped in the middle of the dock and was staring at Spike. 

“I said, what are we doing, Romany?” 

“Looking for work, what else?” Faye snapped.

“You dragged me off the couch to look for work?” Spike made a huge show of yawning.

Faye ignored him and started walking again. “Jet’s buried in the engine and Ed’s buried in her computer, so you were my only option.” 

Spike followed along behind her and slightly to the side, just far enough back to force her to turn her head to look at him. “You could’ve gone solo.” 

“More partners, tougher bounties, more money.” 

“There’s always Ein.” 

“I’m not taking Ein on a bounty!” 

“Why not? He’s smart.” 

“He’s a dog.” 

“Well, yeah. Surprised it took you this long to notice.” 

Faye whirled and stomped her foot, putting her hands on her hips. “Spike!” 

He cocked an eyebrow at her, a smirk twisting his lips. 

She huffed. “Just shut up and come with me.” She grabbed his arm and yanked him forward.

He followed with an over-exaggerated stumble. “Where are we going?” 

“To check the bounty listings.” 

“You want to check the listings out here? Can’t we do that on the ship?” 

“Yes, but there’s a bar here that posts the local stuff on their notice board. And since we’re stuck on Ganymede right now, I thought local would be a good place to start.” 

“That’s just an excuse to take me to a bar.” 

Faye glared at him. 

He looked off in the distance with an expression of mock innocence. 

“Why would I want to take you to a bar?” she demanded.  

Spike grinned. “I’m good company?” 

“Ha! Try again.” Faye laughed, a little too loudly. 

“I knew you weren’t being nice for no reason. You want to get me drunk, mug me, and leave me in a back alley somewhere, don’t you?” 

Faye snorted.“While the thought is tempting, you don’t have any money for me to mug. Not worth the effort.” Not to mention, Spike was a formidable opponent, even drunk. Unless she drugged him, she doubted she’d be able to get the jump on him physically. And while that thought might have appealed to her in the past, it didn’t so much now. Besides, slipping drugs into people’s drinks never made her any friends. 

Behind her, Spike grunted. 

Faye decided not to remark, but she let go of his arm, and they walked the rest of the way to the bar in silence. 

The Last Pint was a small place. Faye found it a few months ago during Spike’s long convalescence after his near-death at the Red Dragon Tower. They’d been laying low, keeping Spike hidden from any Red Dragon members who might’ve survived his kamikaze strike and running clean-up on so many media channels Faye lost count. She found the little hole in the wall one night when she’d slipped off the ship for a breath of fresh air. Jet complained about it later, something about shirking her duties, but when she offered to let him sneak off the ship for a drink next time, he complained less. They spent several nights here, whether alone or together, drinking and trying to forget they had an irascible and wounded Spike back on the ship. 

Those moments had been short, of course, as leaving Spike in Ed’s care wasn’t something they could do for long. Even with Ein babysitting them both. But for a few minutes? They’d allowed themselves to relax. 

So why was she bringing Spike here now? It’s not like this bar was great. It wasn’t really even good. It was just close to the ship. It was...familiar. 

Faye pulled the door open and a bell tied to a string overhead tinkled half-heartedly. A couple of lazy ceiling fans spun overhead, but the bar was empty at 1:30 in the afternoon. The only occupant was the barkeep, a thin fellow with sparse dark hair and a ready-enough smile. He looked up from cleaning a glass as they walked in. “Ah, Ms. Valentine, welcome back.” 

“Hey, Brant.” 

“You know the bartender?” Spike asked. She didn’t turn to look at him, but she could hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah, uh, Jet and I spent some time here while you were...recovering.” 

“Oh.” Spike got unnaturally quiet whenever anyone brought up the Tower or his subsequent recuperation. 

“The usual, Faye?” Brant asked as Faye perched on a barstool at the end of the counter closest to the door. It was habit. Sit near an exit, where you can keep an eye on the customers and make a quick getaway if anybody yells your name. Useful for criminals and bounty hunters alike. Though, in retrospect, it was a silly notion in an empty bar. Spike slid onto the stool beside her. 

“That’s fine,” Faye answered. 

“And your friend here?” 

“Whiskey,” Spike said. 

The bartender nodded and started pouring drinks. 

“So where’s this bounty board, Faye?” 

“Over on the wall behind us.” 

Spike squinted back at it. “Ok, so I know my eyesight’s fine, but aren’t we a little far away to check the list?” 

Faye sighed as Brant slid their drinks across the bar. “I thought you might want to enjoy a drink before we started chasing bounties.” 

Spike frowned into his glass and swirled it around. “If I didn’t know any better, Faye, I’d say you were trying to take me on a date.” 

“Me?” Faye coughed on her sip. She grimaced and tried to make it look casual, but failed. “Take you on a date? Why the hell would I do that?” 

Spike shrugged and downed his whiskey. He flipped the glass upside down and clacked it on the bar. “Dunno. ‘Cause you feel lonely.” 

“Lonely?” Faye scoffed. “I don’t get lonely, Cowboy. I don’t need anybody other than myself.” 

Spike looked at her, mouth half-open, as if he was going to say something, then he shut it and shrugged. “Have it your way, then.” 

Faye felt something in her chest flutter. “I mean...I don’t…” she stammered. She didn’t really want to be all alone. Forever. There was merit in being her own woman, of course, she’d never deny that. But it was lonely, having no one to share the little moments with. Not that she was alone on the Bebop , but there were different kinds of lonely. And it had been a while since Faye Valentine had secured anything close to date, much less a romantic encounter or a relationship. 

Spike chuckled. “You’re such a bad liar, Faye.” 

“I wasn’t lying!” she spluttered. 

“About which part?” Spike met her eyes with his trademark half-lidded gaze, that lazy smile gracing his lips. 

“A-all of it. Any of it. God, are you doing that on purpose?” 

Spike sat back a little. “What?” 

“Looking at me like that.” 

Spike cocked an eyebrow. “Like what?” 

“Like...oh, you know what I mean.” 

Spike slowly took a cigarette out of his pocket, lit it, and took a draw before he answered. “I got no idea, sweetcakes.” 

“Hey, that’s my line!” 

“Stole it.” 

“You steal everything, you jerk. I bet you’ve never had an original idea in your life.” 

Spike gave her a look of mock hurt. “That’s a low blow, even for you, Romany. I’ll have you know I’ve had one or two.” 

“Oh yeah? Like the one where you thought it’d be a good idea to kill yourself at the Tower? Or the one that almost got us killed in that cathedral? Or the --” 

“Shut up, Faye.” Spike’s demeanor changed. Where before he’d been relaxed, lazy, cool, he was stiff now, shoulders tight, mouth clamped around his cigarette. He flipped his glass right-side up again and motioned jerkily for Brant to fill it. 

The bartender complied with a questioning glance, but neither Faye nor Spike offered to explain. 

Spike downed the second glass in one go as well. He set it back on the counter a little harder than necessary.

Faye swallowed hard. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” 

“Ya think?” Spike didn’t look at her. Instead, his eyes hovered somewhere between the glasses of alcohol lined up on the back wall. 

“I uh…”

“No, I am not going to look at the listings.” 

“Right. Shall we--” 

“I’m going to sit right here and drink.” 

“Do you think--” 

“You can do whatever the hell you want, Faye, but I’m going to pretend you don’t exist.” 

Faye felt like he’d slapped her across the face, although he hadn’t moved. She slowly slid off her barstool, leaving the last of her drink untouched.

Spike slid his glass toward Brant.

Brant glanced at Faye. 

“Just put it on my tab,” she said quietly. 

“Yes, ma’am.” Brant poured Spike another glass as Faye slipped out the door.

She ignored Jet when she got back to the Bebop. Even when he asked her where Spike was. Even when he got up and followed her down the hall, demanding answers. She didn’t give him an answer until he threatened to take the hinges off her door and come into her room and strangle her with his metal fist until she talked. 

She pointed out that she wouldn’t be able to talk if he strangled her. 

Jet slammed his fist into her door hard enough to shake the wall. 

Sometimes Faye forgot how scary Jet could be. She yelled at him to go away and leave her alone and told him Spike was at the bar. 

Jet stormed off. 

Probably to join that sorry-ass loser on the next stool over. 

For what? Faye scowled and slammed her hand into her pillow. To make sure he was alright? Didn’t Jet care about her? Shouldn’t Jet make sure she was alright? Faye yelled in frustration. 

Ever since the Tower, Jet had been overly protective of Spike. Walking around on eggshells for him, waiting on him hand and foot, responding to his every beck and call. It made the lunkhead insufferable. Spike was already demanding and lazy before the Tower. Now...now all he had to do was look at Jet sideways and he’d send Jet scrabbling for whatever he wanted. 

It wasn’t fair. 

Faye never got to lay around like that. Nevermind Spike’s wounds. He was fine now. He could get up and get his own stuff. He could shoot straight again. He could make money. So it was high time he started contributing to the Bebop like a team player again. His wounds were mostly old scars now and only the most physical of tasks still caused him to wince or gasp in pain. They could start slow. 

Pft. Slow. Who was she kidding? This was Spike Spiegel. The man never did anything at less than full-throttle. Which, decidedly, was what almost got him killed.  

So, why should that merit him extra favor? Shouldn’t Jet be mad at him? Instead, he seemed concerned with doing everything under his power to keep Spike here, to make him satisfied, to keep him from running off after phantoms of the past again. 

Well, Faye wasn’t having any of it. She was tired of dancing to Spike’s tune. It was time she got a riff, dammit. 

She looked over at her bedside table and the lipstick case she’d left lying open on the top. Spike hadn’t even commented on her lipstick. 

Why would he? He’s never done that before.

Faye huffed. 

Well, she’d just have to try a little harder next time, now wouldn’t she?

Chapter Text

Spike reclined in the passenger seat of their rented car, feet propped on the dash, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling as he puffed cigarette smoke into the air like a chimney. It had been about a week since their disastrous conversation at The Last Pint. Jet had returned to the ship with a plastered Spike, who proceeded to puke his guts out in the bathroom. He hadn't broached the bungled encounter with Faye again and she likewise left the whole thing to hang in silence between them. 

Jet, of course, turned maid for the hungover Spike and Faye avoided them both like the plague until Spike looked slightly less like death. It hadn’t escaped her notice, however, that he still had pretty dark circles under his eyes tonight.

But that didn’t give him the excuse to sit out on a bounty just because he wasn’t taking care of himself. 

Faye sighed and looked over at him. “Spike, you can’t possibly be doing reconnaissance like that.” 

He looked back with a lazy grin. “Oh? Who says?” 

She rolled her eyes. “Me.” 

Spike snorted. “Why should I take your word for it?” 

“Maybe because we’re supposed to be partners on this gig?”

He grunted. 

“That means we split the work equally .” 

“And we will. After the bounty makes an appearance. That'll be my half of the job because we both know you don't go in for physical exertion.” 

Faye fought the urge to punch the grin right off Spike’s face. “Who do you think chased bounties while you were imitating a mummy!?” 

Spike flushed and grumbled something unintelligible under his breath. 

“You wanna repeat that?” Faye asked. 

He favored her with an insincere smile. 

Faye threw her hands up. “Look, just take your turn on watch. That’s all I’m asking.” 

Spike made a show of getting more comfortable in his seat. “I’m not opposed to taking my turn. But I am opposed to taking orders from you. Especially when we both know I’m the better hunter.” 

She spit her tongue out at him. 

“What do you even want me to watch right now?” He spread his hands, smoke trailing his gesture. “Our target’s not supposed to be here for another two hours. You want me to sit in a car and stare at a damn brick wall for two hours?” That eyebrow was back up again, the corner of his mouth pulled into the beginnings of a smirk. He had the face down to perfection and Faye hated it. “I mean, what are we here for so early anyway? You and I both know that’s a messy op.” 

She stared at the empty alley wall in front of the car, fumbling for something that wasn't “because I thought it might be nice for the two of us to chat.” Something that would make Spike sit up and do something. Anything but lay there and look at her with that cocky, smug, stupid eyebrow over his stupid eye on that ...she took a deep breath. 

You’re going too deep, Faye. You can’t let attraction get in the way before you lure him in. 

“My intel on this one wasn’t one-hundred percent...accurate.” She finally admitted. “I wanted to give us a window.” It was a weak excuse, but not the worst thing she’d ever come up with. 

Spike shrugged. “Then we miss him and try again. Why are you so...into this bounty?” 

“I’m not ‘into’ it. It’s my job. Yours too,” she muttered. 

Spike glanced up at her with an almost questioning expression. “Since when have you cared about doing your job, Romany?” 

Faye didn’t give herself a chance to weigh her answer before she blurted out, “Since one of us got so busted up he couldn’t.” 

To her surprise, Spike didn’t immediately react.

She forged on, “It was either bag my share of the bounties or rely on Jet to bring in all our cash. And there’s no way he could’ve done that. Not while taking care of you.” 

Spike flinched, just the barest motion, and turned his face away, staring out the window at the rain spattering the car. As was typical when anyone brought up his time spent convalescing after nearly dying in the Red Dragon Tower, Spike was mysteriously tight-lipped.

"We don't begrudge all the work we did for you, you know," Faye ventured.

He winced, but tried to play it off with a sardonic laugh. “Don’t lie to me. You hated waiting on me hand and foot.” 

Faye laced her fingers over the steering wheel and sighed. “At first, yeah.” When Spike didn’t have a comeback for her, she looked down at him. He was watching her, expression closed and blank. His poker face. 

“Spike, I couldn’t stay mad at you,” Faye said softly. “Not when you were so bruised and...broken.” 

Spike’s mouth tightened. “Sure.” 

“No, I’m serious. I mean, for a while there, we didn’t think you were going to make it.” 

A flash of emotion crossed his face so quickly Faye didn’t register what it was before his mask was back in place. “For a while, neither did I.” He said it so softly Faye wasn’t sure she heard him correctly, but she didn’t ask. She knew he wouldn’t repeat it. 

“We were all scared for you,” she said instead. “Jet, Ed, Ein, all of us. You know Ein slept with you every night for like two months? We couldn’t get the stupid dog off your bed. Jet was afraid he might pull your IVs or something, but I swear that dog was almost...careful.” 

Spike was staring out the window again, but he didn’t stop Faye’s sudden rush of words. They tumbled out of her mouth almost of their own accord. 

“And Ed.” Faye held back a sniff as her eyes felt suspiciously tingly. “She was really confused, Spike. She wasn’t sure what to do with you. I think...I think she was afraid of how pale and deathlike you looked. She wouldn’t go in your room at first, but she drew you pictures. Every day. You know, those ones she gave you when you finally woke up?” 

Spike’s eyes were closed, his expression somewhere between a pained smile and a grimace. Although he’d never directly expressed it, Faye knew that he was grateful for those pictures. An account, in crazy Edward scrawl, of everything that happened since the Tower. To everyone’s surprise, he’d given Ed a hug when she presented them to him. 

“Jet just threw himself into his work, as usual. Except his work was you. I’ve never seen Jet be so careful or methodical. I mean, you know he’s always picky about the Bebop -- got a regular stick up his ass. But he was almost motherlike with you. It was Spike this and Spike that and don’t sneeze too loud, or breathe too much, or look at you wrong for weeks. Ugh, it was dreadful. I took half of the bounties just to get away from that." 

Faye felt a strange rush of relief. She hadn’t said any of this out loud before. Not even to Jet. Sure, they’d had plenty of conversations about Spike while they cared for him. About how he looked paler than usual, about how he was too thin, about how he still hadn’t opened his eyes, about how there was so much blood. But they’d never really talked about how they felt about what was going on. And now...well, Spike wasn’t stopping her and she wasn’t sure she could stop even if she wanted to. 

She ended with a sigh, staring again at the brick wall. The rain was coming down harder now, obscuring anything more than six feet off the hood. If their target didn’t show up soon, they weren’t going to be able to see him when he did. Evening was approaching outside, casting everything in muted shades of gray. 

“And you?” Spike’s voice broke through her thoughts like a splash of cold water to the face. She swallowed hard. 

“Me?” 

“Yeah. How did you feel?” 

Oh, God. How did she feel? 

Faye’s mouth felt dry and her heart sped up. She resisted the urge to glare at Spike. She was the one supposed to be putting him in the hot seat, not the other way around. But there he was, deftly flipping the conversation on its head as usual. Though she supposed she couldn’t put all the blame on him this time. She did bring it up, after all. 

And he was being surprisingly...talkative? That wasn’t the right word. Receptive. 

She took a deep breath. “I was scared too,” she finally admitted. “I mean, you were dying, Spike. You were...so still. And there was so much blood.” She swallowed hard. “I was the one who found you after the Tower, you know.” 

He moved faster than he’d done the entire night, head whipping toward her, eyes wide, mouth slack, cigarette dangling, forgotten. He stared at her for so long she squirmed in her seat. 

“You?” He finally asked. “You got me out of the Tower?” 

She nodded. 

“Faye…” He swallowed and stopped talking. Went so still that she would have questioned whether he was alive had she not just been talking to him. 

“Jet was too unsteady on that leg and Ed can’t fly. Ein’s just a dog. So, you know. When we finally found out where you were, I was the one who came and got you.” 

He actually flushed and she desperately wanted to know what he was thinking. 

“Why, does that make you upset?” she ventured. 

“No.” His answer was too quick, too short. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Sorry? For saving me?” 

“No!” 

That eyebrow was quirked again. 

“For not being...someone else.” 

He tilted his head. 

“For not being her. ”

He sat up so fast it was like he phased into a different position. Every line of his body was taut, nostrils flared, eyes steely. “You don’t get to talk about her,” he hissed. 

Faye’s eyes were wide. 

Not again, Faye. You’ve really put your foot in it now. You were supposed to stay on safe territory. Likeable stuff. Never mention the ex. That’s the first rule!

“I’ll take my watch now,” he ground out and shoved the car door open. 

“Spike, it’s pouring rain!” 

“Yeah? I hadn’t noticed!” He was up and out of the car in a fast, jerky move, long body unfolding like an umbrella springing open. He slammed the door behind him.

Faye slammed her hands into the steering wheel. “Stupid Cowboy!” she yelled. 

Stupid. 

Stupid. 

Stupid. 

She watched him stand in the rain and pretend to smoke a cigarette that was nothing more than crumbling paper and ash, one hand in his pocket, the other clamped to his mouth. 

It was all one big show. She’d said the wrong thing and hurt him. That much was obvious. She’d put her finger on the bruise and pressed until he scrambled to get out from under her thumb. 

She thought they’d been getting somewhere this time. Somewhere that might lead to deeper discussions, admissions, feelings, emotions. 

She glared at Spike standing in the rain. 

Damn cowboy didn’t have any emotions. 

He didn’t even have any common sense. Who stood in the rain like that? He was going to give himself pneumonia. 

She huffed, crossed her arms, and tried to ignore the guilty feeling that blossomed in her chest. 

If he wanted to stand in a downpour, she wasn’t going to stop him. 

Which was why Spike’s fist pounding on the driver’s side window about an hour later scared the crap out of her. She’d been dozing and the loud rap had her awake instantly, heart thumping. She cracked the window to a drenched Spike, but the light of the chase was in his eyes and he looked fierce.  

“Target sighted!” He gestured wildly with his Jericho. And before she could untangle herself from her seat, he was off like a shot, blurring into the rain-streaked night like he’d never even been there.

They brought their bounty into the Ganymede police department at an hour when no God-fearing soul should’ve been awake, soaked to the bone, shivering and blood-spattered -- thankfully it wasn’t their blood. No, the asshole of a bounty had tried throwing himself out a window to get away. Spike only just managed to grab him back from what would have undoubtedly been a neck-breaking fall, but not before the bountyhead cut himself up on broken glass. 

He stood between them now, as soaked and shivering as they were, dazed and utterly beaten. Faye wasn’t sure if that was the result of the sound pistol-whipping she’d given him to shut him up or the blood loss. He was dripping a rather steady, gruesome pinkish stream all over the precinct floor. 

The desk sergeant jumped up with wide eyes when they came in, looking like he had half a mind to summon back-up or draw his gun. 

“Wh--what’s all this, then?” he finally stammered out. 

Spike sniffed, rainwater running in rivulets down his face. His normally fluffy hair was plastered to his forehead in dark, damp strands. He nudged the bountyhead forward. “Bounty.” 

The sergeant’s eyes widened even more.

Faye wiped her own wet hair out of her face -- her headband had long since ceased being useful -- and pulled a sodden wad of paper out of her pocket with a sigh. She set it on the desk anyway. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Spike smirk. 

“What’s that?” the sergeant asked. 

“Warrant,” Faye said.

“His name’s Redd. Look ‘im up. We’re here to turn him in,” Spike added. 

The sergeant looked back and forth between Spike and Faye, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not to believe them. 

“We’re cowboys,” Faye flashed him what she hoped was a friendly smile. 

Between them, Redd shuddered and his knees buckled. Spike hauled him back upright by a steel grip on his upper arm. “Look, buddy, he’s not doing so hot and we’d prefer to collect on the bounty before he expires.” 

For the first time, the sergeant seemed to notice the blood all over the floor. The sight galvanized him into action. “Right, yes. I’ll uh. I’ll call a medic. And check the system.” Having something to do seemed to steady him as he dialed a few numbers on his phone, spoke some quiet words, and then started typing on his computer. 

In a whirlwind of activity, a few more policemen arrived on the scene, took Redd into custody and Spike and Faye got the bounty payment sorted out. They left the precinct about ten minutes later, several thousand woolongs richer. Spike stopped outside on the steps, standing under the police station overhang as the rain continued to come down. He sniffed again and wiped an arm across his face, staring down at his phone screen, where he watched the transfer of woolongs. “That could've been better,” he muttered. 

Faye carefully avoided mentioning their conversation from earlier. “Are you referring to the bounty, the rain, or the money?” 

“All of the above.” Spike sneezed. 

For the first time, Faye noticed how hard Spike was shivering. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and made a visible effort to stand still. Faye hid a smirk. 

“Why don’t we get out of the rain?” she suggested.

Spike rolled his head toward her. “We are out of it.” 

“I mean, out of it somewhere more...permanent.” 

“You do realize that means going back into the rain first, right?”  

“Oh, will Spike melt if he gets wet?” She mocked in a sing-song voice. 

“If I did, I’d hardly be standing here now, would I?” 

Faye snorted. “Should I go get the car for you?” She clasped her hands behind her back and stared up at him, blinking innocently. 

He inched away and stared down at her, that eyebrow ticked up again, mouth half-open. “No,” he said flatly. 

“But you’re so wet,” Faye ran a finger up his arm. He was still shivering. 

He pulled away again. “So are you.” 

“Yeah, but I seem to be made of a higher-caliber of water resistance.” 

He opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by another sneeze. He coughed and spit up a gob of something Faye didn’t look at too closely, then wiped his face on his sleeve again, although he didn't succeed in making anything drier. When he put his hand back in his pocket, he ran it across his right side, habit now, though Faye wasn’t sure if the motion still signified pain or not. Spike wasn’t one to talk about himself when he was hurting so she and Jet learned to look for tells. And while the katana wound in his side was closed up now, stitches gone and no danger of busting it open again, he still made that unconscious gesture every once in a while, fingers lightly brushing the lines of the scar, hand pressed to his side for a few seconds. 

“You ok?” she asked before she thought about it. 

He looked over at her with surprise that quickly turned into suspicion. “Yeah.” 

She shrugged. “Just asking.”

“Just answering,” he shot back.

Faye resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose and stared out into the rainy night. “Guess we better go then.” 

“Yeah.” 

By silent agreement, they made a dash for it at the same time. Faye reached the car first. She plopped into the driver's seat, moaning as she literally sat in a puddle. She didn’t envy whoever was going to have to dry this out and clean it up. Spike dropped into the passenger seat a second later, breathing a little harder than she thought he should’ve been. 

But she didn’t ask. Not twice in such a short span. She’d only succeed in making him clam up tighter. So she settled for silence as they drove back to the Bebop. 

But it was telling that Spike didn’t even mention her driving once on the way back.

Chapter Text

“I don’t know why you and Jet insist I go to a doctor. I’m fine. And why the hell are you escorting me like I’m some sort of child? I can take myself!” Spike’s complaint was cut short by a coughing fit. He had to pause to get his breath back. 

Faye stopped in the street and gave him a withering glare. “We all know that left up to your own devices, you’d die first.” 

He sighed dramatically, although the effect was ruined by his stuffy nose and red-rimmed eyes. After spending most of the evening running around Ganymede in the rain chasing that last bounty, Spike had come down with a tenacious cold that refused to go away -- even for Jet’s grandmother’s cures. They’d tried everything from cough medicine to alcohol to hot showers and nothing seemed to offer much relief. 

Try as he might to deny it, Spike was sick. He only finally agreed to go to the doctor under threat of violence. From Jet. Which Faye was rather pleased about, because at least it wasn’t one more aggravation she had to add to her long list of things definitely wouldn’t be good for making Spike notch thirteen.  

Although being the one to actually escort him to the doctor probably ranked somewhere on the list. Damn Jet for taking that small-time bounty. She had a sneaking suspicion that his impeccable timing wasn’t coincidence. She could hardly send Ed as a chaperone and while she was pretty sure Ein would take Spike to the right place, Spike could pick the little corgi up and walk anywhere he pleased and Ein would hardly be able to stop him. 

Not like Faye could really stop him either. Not unless she shot him and, despite Jet’s suggestion that she do exactly that, she wouldn’t. She wasn’t trying to fabricate a more serious reason for him to go to the doctor. 

She snuck a side-glance at Spike as they walked down the street. Despite his loud protests, he was going along with the plan without as much resistance as usual. He’d been quieter since the Tower. Not meeker, not exactly, just more sullen. Less mouthy. Of course, he’d kept up the facade of loud complaints as soon as he was able to string comprehensible sentences together again, but they had a fake ring to them now. 

Faye rolled her eyes. Spike’s complaints had always been mostly for show, but these felt...hollow...somehow. 

“Woolong for your thoughts,” Spike muttered beside her. 

“Huh?” 

“You just rolled your eyes. What did I do this time?” 

“Why do you assume it’s about you?” Faye snapped reflexively. 

Spike gestured at the fact that it was just the two of them. Faye grimaced. Although she could have been rolling her eyes over one of the few strangers on the street, the chances of that were low. 

“Even if it is about you, why do you assume I’d tell you?” It was a peevish response and she knew it, but she was peeved, damn it, and trying to be nice to Spike was like trying to perform dental surgery on a crocodile without anesthesia. She was tired of getting bit by the crocodile. 

Spike sniffed and looked at her with mild surprise. “I didn’t realize we were at odds yet.” 

Faye huffed. “You’ve been fighting me over going to the doctor all morning. Of course we’re at odds!” 

“Typical.” Spike shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“Typical? Typical?” Faye threw her hands up. “Says the one who never offers to get along with anybody even on a good day!” 

He thrust a thumb at his own chest. “I don’t get along with anybody? Compared to you, I’m a walk in the park.” 

“Oh yeah? Who’s the one lording it over everybody lately like he’s a king and we’re his servants?” 

Spike took what would have been a sharp inhale through his nose, but only ended up being a messy snort that ended in another coughing fit. He glared at Faye from where he hunched over to catch his breath. “I didn’t exactly have control over that one,” he growled. 

“You could’ve just not blown up the Dragon.” Faye stopped in front of him and crossed her arms. 

She expected him to clam up, shut up, maybe even run, like he had before when she brought up his former syndicate. So much for notch thirteen. 

But, to her surprise, he did none of those things. Faye wasn’t sure if it was because of his exhaustion and lack of breath or something else. Something deeper. Something she couldn’t quite decipher lurking behind those mis-matched eyes. 

“Would you rather I’d not destroyed them?” he asked quietly. 

“I would rather you not have run away and --” 

Spike held up a hand and straightened up. “That’s not what I asked.” 

Faye stopped. 

“Would you rather be dealing with Dragon hitmen gunning for us? Or me demanding that you hand my busted ass some food every once in a while?” 

“You know you asked for more than just --” 

“Answer the question, Faye!” His gaze was intense, despite his red nose and shadowed eyes. 

Faye paused. Because she wasn’t sure how to answer -- or even if she wanted to. The Red Dragon Syndicate had been a menace, sure, but not to her personally. While she’d had her run-ins with them, it was due to her involvement with Spike. She’d barely begun to grasp the scars they left on him before he took his dance with death and destroyed them. Their absence left a seething black hole in the Syndicate activity on Tharsis, which, if the news reports were accurate, had led to a lot of in-fighting among the other Syndicates as they vied for control of what was once Red Dragon territory. It also led to the exposure and arrest of a lot of Syndicate-backed businesses that were suddenly lacking income and protection. 

But had she really wanted the Dragon destroyed? 

“I don’t know, Spike,” she finally admitted, the words barely above a whisper. 

He looked stunned, as if she’d physically slapped him. 

She shivered suddenly, even though the day was sunny and warm, and wrapped her hands around her arms. “It wasn’t my fight. You did what you had to do and you came back to us. That’s what’s important. The rest? It’s in the past. Doesn’t matter now.” 

Spike took a shaky breath, though Faye wasn’t sure if that was because of what she said or his cold. He shivered, then nodded. “Ok.” 

“Ok? That’s it?” 

Spike shoved his hands in his pockets. “Don’t push your luck, Faye.” 

“I’m not pushing anything! But you go all dark and creepy on me and start asking existential questions demanding answers and then you’re just going to say ‘ok’?” 

“I didn’t ask an existential question! That would be like saying ‘where do you think you go when you die?’. I just asked for your opinion.” 

“On a loaded topic!” 

“Yeah, so?” 

“So you can’t do that and then get all casual on me!” Faye stomped her foot. Then she thrust a finger in Spike’s face. “And don’t you dare deny it, Spike Spiegel! You were messing with my emotions and you know it!” 

“I --” 

“Ah! No more out of you!” She grabbed his arm and pulled him along behind her. “Now, c’mon, or we’re going to be late for your appointment.” 

Whatever Spike’s next protest was going to be, it was drowned in a cough.

A few hours later, the exam room door at the doctor’s office opened and Spike escaped, making a beeline for the exit. He didn’t say anything as he passed Faye in the waiting room. She put down her magazine and stood up. The doctor stepped out of the exam room a few seconds later. Faye cast a quick glance to make sure Spike wasn’t lingering within hearing range and waved him over. 

The doctor walked up. 

“What’s his diagnosis, doctor?” 

He glanced around, then back at Faye. “I’m sorry, who are you?” He sounded tired. 

“I’m Spike’s partner,” she said. She didn’t clarify in what sense. The doctor didn’t ask.

Instead, he sighed. “Technically, I’m not supposed to say.” 

“Doctor--” Faye began, but he held a hand up. 

“Ms. Valentine, I presume?” 

Faye nodded.

“I’ll bend the rules a little for you, because while he didn’t officially sign a form, he did mention you during the exam and gave me somewhat...roundabout permission to talk to you. It’s walking pneumonia.” 

Faye’s eyes widened. 

The doctor gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t mistake me, it’s serious, but it’s not as bad as it sounds. With rest and the antibiotics I prescribed, he should bounce back in a week or so.” 

Faye breathed a small sigh of relief. “About that rest…is there anything you can give him for that?”

“For rest?” 

“You know, to help him sleep.”  

The doctor raised an eyebrow. “There are many different sleep aids, Ms. Valentine, but Mr. Spiegel didn’t mention any trouble sleeping during the exam.” 

“That’s just it. He won’t. He’s...dealing with a lot and I’m worried about his recovery, especially if he keeps staying up all night.” 

The doctor put his hands on his hips and looked at the floor for a moment. “Look, I can’t prescribe him anything on your recommendation, but I’ll write down a couple of over-the-counter aids you can pick up that might help. If he needs anything stronger, he’ll have to ask me himself.” 

Faye nodded. “Thanks, doctor.” 

He pulled out a small notebook and a pen from his coat pocket and scribbled Faye a short note.

“You seem like a good friend, Ms. Valentine,” the doctor said as he handed over the note. “You look out for him, alright?” He nodded his head toward the doors where they could just make out Spike leaning against a lamppost outside. 

“I will. I promise.” Faye pocketed the note and headed outside. 

“What was that for?” Spike asked as she joined him. 

“What was what for?” 

“Your little clandestine rendezvous. I could see you through the door, you know.” 

“Maybe I have eyes for him,” Faye wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. 

Spike rolled his eyes. “Don’t lie, he’s not your type.” 

“Oh? And what is my type?” 

“Rich --” 

“He’s a doctor, he’s rich.” 

“--and dumb.” 

Faye looked offended. “Dumb?” 

“Yeah, so you can rip ‘em off.” 

Faye stuck her tongue out at Spike. “That’s not my type, lunkhead, that’s my target. I’ll have you know, my type is tall, dark-haired, and classy. ” 

“Well, that eliminates me.” 

“You were eliminated from the start.” 

Something flashed across Spike’s face then, but whatever it was, it was lost in a series of violent sneezes. 

Faye stepped back. 

Spike straightened up with a groan, thick snot dripping from his nose. Faye couldn’t describe the look he shot her as anything other than pure desperation. He propped his forearm against the lamppost and leaned his forehead against it. After a couple of snotty attempts to clear his nose, something gross and wet hit the pavement that Faye didn’t look too closely at. 

When he looked back up at her (face clean, at least), she held out her hand. 

Spike frowned. “What, you want me to hold it or something?” 

Faye smirked. “No, I want your prescription. Before you lose it or sneeze all over it.” 

He sighed dramatically, but he reached into his pocket and handed Faye a slip of paper with the doctor’s signature at the bottom. 

“C’mon, there’s a pharmacy just a few blocks over. We’ll go get your antibiotics and then you should sleep.” 

Spike made a show of rolling his eyes, but he followed her.

She left him on a bench outside when she went in. Mostly because Spike planted himself on the bench as soon as it came into view and refused to get up. He slouched back in that typical lazy pose, arms outstretched, head back, although Faye suspected this time it had a lot to do with keeping all that snot contained more than sheer laziness. He looked so...tired. Pale. She fought the sudden urge to run her hand through those tangled dark locks. His eyes were closed, but he’d sense her before she even got close, tell her off, or jump away. 

And she didn’t want to ruin his rest, insufficient as this might be. 

Faye bit her lip, remembering nights spent up with a feverish, unresponsive Spike, begging him to stay with her, tangling her fingers in that curly hair and holding on, like somehow her touch might break through the haze and reach his subconscious. She doubted he remembered any of that. In fact, she kind of hoped he didn’t, though there was a part of her that desperately wanted to ask if he did. It had been a long fight after the Tower to bring Spike back and there was a part of Faye, deep down, that was terrified they might lose him again. 

So after a moment of convincing herself that Spike was totally fine for a few unattended minutes, she ducked inside the pharmacy. After a little doe-eyed convincing, she got the pharmacist to fill Spike’s prescription for her and did a little shopping of her own. 

When she got back outside, Spike hadn’t moved. Faye stood in front of the bench, gripping her paper bag of purchases, debating whether to rouse him and get him back to the ship or let him sit for a while. 

He cracked open an eye at the same time she made her decision and sat down beside him. 

He tilted his head towards her, but when she didn’t say anything, he closed his eye again. Faye literally clamped her teeth over her tongue to stop herself from saying anything. 

Notch thirteen, Faye. He’s always telling you to shut up anyway. Practice being quiet.

She half-laughed. Quiet. Yeah, right. She didn’t think that would ever be a ready term to describe her. 

But for a moment? 

To let Spike rest? 

She could be quiet. 

She nearly wasn’t when his head flopped onto her shoulder a few minutes later. Faye stiffened and clamped a hand over her mouth to stop the yelp that rose into her throat. She looked over at Spike, but he was dead asleep, slumped on the bench until he rested against her. There was no other explanation. He’d never get this close while awake. Faye settled back, feeling a smile creep over her face. 

Spike was hot against her shoulder and he snored, but she could pretend, for a second, that they’d planned this moment. 

She reached up with her other hand, slowly, and lightly tangled her fingers in his hair. He barely even moved. 

Faye rested her hand on his head and tilted her face up to the sky. 

What would Jet say if he found them like this? 

Or Ed? 

Faye grimaced. Ed wouldn’t let either of them live this moment down and then Spike would deny it and Faye would run around yelling about how much she didn’t like him and besides he smelled bad (or something equally ludicrous). 

But really...there was something...nice, about being close like this. 

Faye sighed. 

If only they could have done it on purpose. 

Chapter Text

“Jet, c’mon, you can’t really be taking this seriously?” Spike leaned over Jet’s shoulder as the older cowboy tinkered with a piece of the Hammerhead’s engine, spread out over the workshop table. 

Jet sighed. “What do you want me to do about it, Spike?” 

Spike stared at the ratty piece of paper in his hand. It had been delivered to the Bebop yesterday afternoon, dropped off by a courier who hadn’t been able to say anything about where it came from. Only that it was for Faye Valentine. The letter was written in blocky scrawl, a generic threat as far as threats went. Spike had seen plenty in his day. 

A man claiming to be a former bounty Faye put behind bars, recently released from prison and threatening to come after her for revenge. They had been able to determine that he really was a past bounty Faye bagged. And he was out of prison. But Spike still didn’t believe he was a threat. 

Faye, at first, had brushed it off like it was no big deal, but now she wanted someone to go with her on some shopping spree she’d planned because she didn’t want to go alone. 

“I don’t know, Jet. Tell her she’s a big girl and she can go to the mall herself?” 

“Why don’t you tell her?” 

“I did.” 

“I take it she didn’t appreciate the sentiment.” 

Spike snorted. “No.” 

“Look, Spike, it may be nothing, like you’re saying, but it might be something, like she thinks. I can’t let the fate of one of the crew hang on maybe. I’ve got to treat this as a serious threat.” 

“Jet!” 

Jet looked up at him patiently. 

“It’s got phony written all over it!” Spike protested. “I mean, the man even identifies himself! We can see him coming from a mile away!” 

"You can. She might not.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Spike crossed his arms. 

“Not everybody has your particular background and skill set, pard.” 

Spike got uncharacteristically quiet, suddenly finding Jet’s engine parts very interesting. Jet put down his screwdriver. “I’m over here, Spike-o.” 

Spike reluctantly dragged his eyes back to Jet’s face. 

“To you, that threat’s ridiculous. ‘Cause you’d see the man coming and pin him before he ever has a chance to strike. To me, that threat’s common. Something to keep on the radar and keep an eye out for, but not a top priority. But we come from backgrounds where getting threats was something of a regular occurrence.” 

Spike grumbled something that might have been agreement. 

“Faye doesn’t.” 

“Oh, come off it, Jet, you can’t tell me that,” Spike made air quotes, “‘Poker Alice’ never got threats.” 

“She probably did. But Poker Alice would deal with them very differently than Faye Valentine.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Jet rubbed a hand over his head. “Look, all I’m trying to say is that Faye’s worried about this. She’s capable. She can take care of herself. If she thinks the threat is real, then I’m going to take her word for it.” 

Spike threw his hands up. “Since when has Faye’s word ever been good for anything?” 

“Spike!” Jet yelled, brows drawn down in sudden anger. 

“Don’t get angry with me, pard,” Spike muttered. “I’m just telling the truth.” 

Jet sighed and changed tactics. “What if it was you?”

“Huh?” 

“What if you got a threat and asked me to go somewhere with you to watch your back?” 

Spike paused, mouth open to retort. Then he shut his mouth and leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms again. He looked away. He hated looking away, but he found himself doing it more and more since his recovery. Not being able to face Jet or Faye in moments of honesty and vulnerability. A defeat. He cleared his throat. Of course he’d want Jet to go with him. 

“I hope you’d take me seriously,” he finally said.  

“Exactly.” 

“Jet, we both know anybody sending me a death threat is a lot more dangerous than --” 

“Can it, Spike. Doesn’t matter. You’d want me to back you up. So why should we do anything different for Faye?” 

Spike swallowed. He felt something writhe uncomfortably in the pit of his stomach. When Jet put it that way...he heaved a sigh. “I guess you’re right.” 

Jet stared at him for a long moment before nodding. “Besides, if this threat’s as phony as you think it is, then you won’t even have to do anything on this outing. Just sit around and look useful.” 

"Me ? Why am I the one who has to go with Faye? Why can’t you do it?” 

“Because I’ve got repair work to do on the ship. And I’ve got parts coming in today that I’ve got to be here to receive. We don’t get the ship fixed up, we don’t get off Ganeymede anytime soon and we don’t bring in new money. We’re running out of local jobs, Spike. It’s time to move on.” 

Spike sighed again. Jet was right. On all counts. 

“Besides, we can’t send Ed.” 

Spike shot Jet a glare. Jet was back to working on the engine parts, studiously holding up some washer or bolt to the light. 

“This is a set-up, Jet, and you know it.” 

“She promised to buy you lunch,” Jet said. 

Spike grumbled under his breath and stalked out of the room.

“How do I look?” 

Spike was sitting on a bench outside the dressing rooms at some store in some mall surrounded by mountains of bags and parcels that (as he’d predicted) Faye cajoled him into carrying. Spike sighed, wishing for the umpteenth time that he could at least light a cigarette to distract himself, but after getting told off by the fifth retail worker that he “couldn’t do that in here” he’d given up. 

“You look fine,” he muttered, chin in hand, eyes on a nearby display of garish, sparkly nail polish. 

“Spike, you’re not even looking!” He heard Faye stomp her foot. 

He resisted the urge to rub his temples. Faye had been dragging him from store to store, asking his opinion on every outfit, accessory, and thing she’d thrown into a bag. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she came up with the threat on purpose just to get him to go shopping with her. He let his eyes travel lazily back to her. And paused. 

Faye was wearing a white suit jacket and pencil skirt with random, tasteful swathes of black running at diagonals across the outfit. A wide-brimmed hat completed the look, one side tipped mysteriously over her eye, hiding half her face. She wore a pair of polished black heels that added elegance and height to her ensemble. He was struck by the fact that she looked...good. That wasn’t really a thought he’d ever had about Faye. Sure, she was societally attractive, slender and curved in the right places. But Spike never really thought of Faye as anything other than Faye. 

Until...now. 

“Spike? Hello?” 

Spike blinked. “You, uh, you look good, Faye.” 

“Good? That’s it? I just look ‘good’?”

Spike scowled and the moment was gone. “What do you want me to say?” he demanded hotly. “Gorgeous? Exotic? Beautiful?” 

She perked up. 

He smirked. “Because those would be lies.” 

“Spike Spiegel!” She had her heel off in a swift movement and launched it at his head. He ducked the shoe-turned-missile. It bounced off a package beside him and tumbled to the floor. Spike leaned down and picked it up. 

“I think you dropped something, Cinderella.”

Faye stomped up to him, her gait one-sided and clumsy, and snatched the shoe back, something bright lurking in her eyes that might have been…

“Are you crying?” he asked. 

“Of course not,” Faye snapped. Then she stomped back into the dressing room. But she didn’t ask him about any more outfits after that. In fact, the very next thing she did was drag him to the food court and deposit him unceremoniously in a chair along with a pile of packages and a wad of woolongs. 

“Why don’t you entertain yourself here? Where you can find something you actually care about,” she hissed. 

He grimaced as she dropped a box in his lap that narrowly missed some important bits. 

“I thought you wanted me to be a bodyguard.” 

Faye sniffed. “I can take care of myself. Besides, it’s clear you don’t want to be here. So just eat something and stay out of my way. You only came for the food, anyway.” 

To his surprise, Spike found himself at a loss for words. 

Faye narrowed her eyes. “Just don’t lose any of my stuff.” 

“Ok, whatever.” Spike collected the woolongs and stuffed them in his pocket. 

Faye leaned forward over the box in his lap so she could stare him in the eye. “I’m serious, Spike.” 

“Sure, sure. I’ll keep an eye on them over the top of my sandwich.” 

Faye huffed. “I’ll be back in an hour.” 

“You mean two?” Spike’s mouth quirked up in a half-grin. 

If looks could kill, he’d be dead. Faye flounced off, leaving Spike feeling something oddly like...regret? It buzzed about his head like an annoying fly. He shook his head. He didn’t have to feel sorry for Faye’s ruined shopping spree. After all, it’s not like he did anything wrong. She just didn’t like his commentary. 

And she had brought him to the only place in the mall worth going. 

So he should be happy, right? 

He shifted the box out of his lap with a sigh and went to get some food.

Spike considered rearranging Faye’s parcels into a bed and taking a nap. Where was that woman? She’d told him she’d be back in an hour. Even giving her enough time to wander, ogle a dress she really liked, flirt with a few guys -- dammit, she should’ve been back by now. He glanced at his phone. It had been nearly two hours since Faye left him in the food court. 

He was annoyed. He’d eaten his fill a while back and had been idly eating snacks since then, but did Faye really expect him to sit and eat for two entire hours? Spike chuckled. Maybe her plan was to give him indigestion. Well, the joke was on her. While he liked to eat, he wasn’t one given to gluttony. He’d never lived a life that afforded him that guilty pleasure. 

That and beefless bell peppers didn’t exactly lend themselves to heaping plates of seconds. 

Spike stood up and paced, keeping half an eye on the mountain of packages. Faye would kill him if anything happened to them. But...what if that threat ended up being real? Was Faye even armed on this trip? Spike realized he hadn’t noticed. Did her disgruntled bounty get the jump on her while she was distracted by a row of brightly-colored bikinis? Spike groaned. 

This wasn’t his concern. Jet was right, Faye could take care of herself. 

But she had asked him to come along. Which was unusual. She didn’t ask for Spike’s company for the sheer fun of it. So, was she really worried? 

Damn it. Spike growled and ran a hand through his hair. He wanted to smoke. He wanted to act. He needed to do something. Even if it was finding Faye admiring a shoe display somewhere and strangling her. He walked over to one of the food court stands and pulled aside a young employee. The kid looked nervous and Spike relaxed his iron grip on the boy’s arm a little. 

He pointed at the packages. “You see that pile?” 

“Uh, yeah.” The kid wiped a sweaty hand over his forehead, nervously brushing back dark hair. “Yeah. Yes. I do.” 

“Good. Keep an eye on them, got it?” 

“B-but--” the kid started to protest. 

Spike leaned down and whispered an amount in the kid’s ear that made his eyes go wider than saucers. “It’s yours if I come back and all of those are still here.” 

The kid nodded vigorously. “Uh-huh. Ok. I can watch ‘em.” 

“Remember, they all have to be here.” Spike warned. “I’ve counted them. So don’t even think about putting your grubby hands on them.” 

“Yes, sir! I mean no, sir. I mean, I won’t,” the kid gulped. 

“Good. I’ll be back.” Spike headed off into the mall leaving a wide-eyed kid shaking behind him. 

He wandered the busy halls for a while without direction. Where the hell would Faye be? How was he supposed to find her in this jungle? Two floors of gawking teenagers, crying kids, harried parents and shoppers galore. He felt his old instincts kick in as he surveyed faces and scanned storefronts. He was on the hunt. 

He passed over stores that he knew Faye wouldn’t enter and ducked into the ones he thought looked like something she’d peruse. He got odd looks from some of the clerks, but nobody dared stop him. As the minutes ticked by, he felt increasingly frustrated and it must have showed on his face. People were giving him wary looks and a wide berth. 

Spike stopped in the middle of one of the hallways and shoved his hands in his pockets with a scowl. He wouldn’t find her just sticking his head into random stores trying to spot a purple-haired Romany. He needed a plan. 

He went back to one of the brightly lit kiosks scattered around the mall and studied the map. Damn it. Why hadn’t he been paying more attention while they’d wandered through the mall? With a little recollection, he pieced together a pretty accurate trail of where they’d been -- and it revealed a pattern. Faye was moving with purpose, weaving her way through the mall and stopping at specific locations in order. At least he could count on her predictability in one thing -- shopping. Which meant he had a lead. All he had to do was follow Faye’s trail and catch up to her. 

With a strange sense of relief, he set out. 

He went into the parking garage on a whim. The entrance to the garage was between a perfume store and one of those pop-up seasonal stores selling anything and everything you might need to enjoy a summer of sun-tanning. Two places Faye would likely visit. It was quieter in this hall, a little darker. A few lights overhead were out and he was on the backside of the mall. Less people. If he were going to make a grab, it would be here. Spike pushed open the door and stepped outside, feeling the muggy afternoon heat hit him like a slap to the face. Dark clouds built overhead and he hoped it wasn’t about to pour rain again. 

He crossed the short space between the mall and the garage in a few long strides, hand resting inside his jacket, eyes scanning every car, pillar, and shadow. The garage was lit overhead by large spotlights every few feet, but there were deep pools of shadow in the few places the light didn’t reach. A few shoppers were loading packages into their cars and a group of rowdy kids ran down the next row, their voices and footsteps echoing off the concrete ceiling, but otherwise, the garage was empty. 

Until, beyond that, faint -- “Let go of me! If you don’t, I’ll--”

The voice was suddenly cut off. 

Spike started. He knew that voice! He started running, ducked low so that he was hidden by the cars. He made it to the end of the row and spun to find a black SUV sitting in the shadows at a back corner of the garage. Three figures were engaged in a struggle by the open back door. Two men in dark clothes with hastily-constructed cloth hoods over their faces and a woman in nothing but a bikini. Faye.

Spike face-palmed. They’d caught her in a dressing room?! Of course. If she was armed, she wouldn’t have had her gun on her at that moment. Especially not in that bathing suit. One of the men had his hand over Faye’s mouth as he tried to shove her inside the car. Her hands were twisted behind her back, hastily bound with plastic zip ties. 

The other man held the door open, watching the garage warily. Amateurs. They were nervous. Bunglers. The worst type. Spike grit his teeth. At least one of them was openly armed and Spike knew he could very well get Faye (or himself) shot if he played this out wrong and spooked the guys. Obviously they didn’t want her dead, at least not immediately, since this appeared to be a kidnapping and not a murder. 

Spike figured a direct approach was best. He stood up, slowly, hands by his sides and started walking toward the car. It took longer than he expected for the two men to notice him. 

“Hey you, stay back!” said the one holding the door. He brandished the gun he’d been hiding against his leg. 

Spike stopped walking and slouched, resisting the urge to fold his arms or put his hands in his pockets. He kept his hands in view, non-threatening. “Why’s that?” 

At the sound of his voice, Faye thrashed even harder and bit the hand of the man trying to shove her into the car. He yowled, but he didn’t lose his grip. 

“Spike!” Faye yelled before the man got his hand over her mouth again. 

“This ain’t none of your business, pretty boy.” The first man growled. “So walk away.” 

“You know, you really shoulda gagged her,” Spike said conversationally. Faye glared daggers at him. “She’s not the type to take a kidnapping quietly.” 

The man holding the door stood there for a second like he didn’t know what to do with that information. 

“Mrpmnh mhamph mmph!” Faye’s shout was muffled. Spike ignored her. 

He took a couple of steps closer before Faye’s kidnapper noticed and brandished his gun again. “Stay back. I mean it!” 

“Or what?” 

“I’ll shoot!” 

Spike smirked. “Ok. May I ask what you’re doing with the lady, then?” 

The second man, who had finally gotten Faye shoved into the car, turned around and flipped Spike the bird. “None of your business. Shove off and quit trying to play hero or I’ll have my friend here splatter your brains on the concrete.” 

“I’m not playing hero. Not remotely.” 

“Oh yeah? Then what are you here for? The broad owe ya something?” The man’s sneer was palpable even through his mask. 

Evidently, he’d managed to gag Faye because all Spike heard from her was a series of angry, muffled screams. 

“A lot of somethings,” Spike grumbled. 

“Yeah? Well get in line. She put me behind bars and I aim to get revenge. You’re outta luck, pal.” 

“Is that right?” Spike shifted his weight. “Because I’m not very good at waiting my turn!” He lunged then, straight for the man holding the door. The thug shot at him, but the bullet went wide as surprise threw off his aim. Spike reached him in seconds, tackling him and throwing him backwards, keeping the car door between himself and the second thug. Not that it would exactly stop bullets, but, better than nothing. The lackey’s gun skittered across the pavement as Spike slammed his wrist into the concrete. A well-aimed punch put the man out cold. 

The second thug, Faye’s bounty, if Spike pegged him right, swung around the edge of the door at the same time Spike straightened up and aimed a kick at his gun hand. His gun went clattering away on the pavement. Before he could jump for it, Spike had his Jericho drawn and pointed right between the bounty’s eyes.

They froze. 

“You can’t shoot me!” the man’s voice took a higher pitch. 

“The hell I can’t,” Spike snarled. 

“I haven’t done nothin’!” 

“You kidnapped my partner!” 

“It was a misunderstanding!” 

“Shut up!” 

The man’s eyes shifted back and forth. 

“Kidnapping’s a crime, buddy,” Spike continued. “Violates your parole, I bet. How much you think ISSP’ll give me for turning you back in?” 

The man’s eyes darted to the side, right before he turned to bolt -- straight into Faye’s double kick. She’d twisted onto her back and her feet met his chest as he turned, driving the air out of his lungs and throwing him into the parked car in the next space. He groaned as his head hit the car and then slumped to the ground. 

Spike made sure the thug was out before turning to find a very angry Faye eyeing him from the back seat. He leaned against the top of the car, ducking his head so he could see inside.

Lying on her back, Faye glared at him. “Mmnhr hhernenh mmpph!” 

“Nice timing,” he said. 

Faye’s brows raised a little.

“But that suit’s not your color, Faye.” 

He wasn’t fast enough to dodge her second kick. He staggered back, breath whooshing from his lungs and caught himself on the same car the unfortunate kidnapper slammed into. Spike steadied himself, one hand pressed to his side as it twinged more than he’d like. “What the hell, Faye! I’m trying to help!” 

“MMNHPMNNMN!” 

Spike sighed and lurched back to Faye’s car. “Say please,” he growled. 

“PLMNHNMM.” 

“Guess that’ll have to do.” Spike rooted around in the car and found a knife, which he used to cut the zip ties on Faye’s wrists while she glared at him over her shoulder. Then he helped her out of the car. 

She pulled the gag out of her mouth. “You idiot!” she screamed. 

He winced and made a show of covering his ears. “‘Thanks’ would be more appropriate.” 

“You left me!” 

“Actually, you left me.” 

“Because you were being an ass!” She stomped her bare foot on the concrete. 

“I can put the gag back in.” 

“I’d like to see you try!” Faye held the piece of cloth over her head. Not that it would do any good. Spike was still tall enough to reach it, but he rolled his eyes and turned away. 

His earlier search of the car produced more zip ties, which he now used to tie up the two would-be kidnappers. He pulled their hoods off and made makeshift gags of them, then stuffed the two into their own car. He found the car keys in one of their pockets and locked them in, pocketing the keys for himself. 

Faye stood nearby, arms crossed, one bare foot tapping on the concrete. 

Spike turned back around. “You should get back inside before they think you’re trying to steal that swimsuit.” He pointed at the tags still dangling off the garish fabric. 

“Aaarrrgh!” Faye stabbed a finger into his chest. “Some bodyguard you are, Spike!” 

“Hey, I saved you didn’t I?” 

“I had it!” she snapped. But her eyes flickered toward the car with the slightest edge of doubt. 

“Sure.” 

Faye turned around and stomped back toward the mall. 

Spike pulled out his phone and dialed ISSP. 

After a lot of explaining to the store that Faye had been kidnapped, and showing the gagged kidnappers to mall security to back up the story, and waiting on ISSP to drag their butts down here and confirm Spike and Faye’s cowboy’s licenses, they finally made it back to the food court. As it turned out, Faye’s packages were all still there (and one very incredulous food service employee found himself with a nice bonus).

Faye prowled around the stack for several minutes, arms crossed over her stomach, brows drawn down in scrutiny. 

“They’re all there, Faye. Trust me. I counted.” Spike said wearily from where he slumped at a nearby table. All he wanted to do was go back to the ship and take a nice, undramatic nap, without shopping, without Faye, without kidnappers. And maybe sneak some pain meds while no one was looking, because despite his assertions otherwise, Faye’s kick had done something to an old injury he was sure Jet wouldn’t like. 

Faye looked over at him sharply, as if she were about to retort, but then her expression softened and she cleared her throat. “They, uh. Looks like they’re all here.” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.” 

She huffed and swiped a stray hair back into her hairband. “Spike?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I...” She licked her lips and looked away. 

He waited. 

She looked back and there wasn’t anything snarky in her gaze this time. “Thank you.” 

Spike opened his mouth to retort and found himself strangely lacking anything acidic for Faye. “You’re…welcome.”

Chapter Text

She found him on deck practicing his jujitsu or tai-kwan-do or karate or whatever it was called. He didn’t notice her standing at the hangar’s edge, so she leaned against the doorframe and crossed her arms, smoking her cigarette and watching him move. He wore a pair of sweatpants, shoeless and shirtless. 

He was still too thin.  

The thought struck Faye out of nowhere and she frowned. Although Spike had gained a good bit of muscle mass back since the tower, he hadn’t really filled out. Far cry from the almost skeletal frame that had stumbled out of bed after months of recuperating, but he was still a bit too lean to look healthy.

It had taken all of Jet’s medical know-how and then some to keep Spike alive. They’d both called in favors from all corners of the galaxy, anyone they knew with a drop of medical experience or the ability to supply drugs and anesthetics. Faye never particularly prided herself on having much medical knowledge -- after all, that’s what doctors were for -- but she figured she had enough practice under her belt with Spike to go into nursing if she ever decided to give up bounty hunting. 

Faye snorted. Like that would ever happen.

Her eyes traveled back to Spike. He was backlit by the setting sun, so she couldn’t see his expression clearly, but his movements were much more controlled now, more fluid. He nearly moved with all his old predatory grace again. 

His first sessions like this ended with him on his face in the living room, staunchly denying that he’d been trying to stand on his own. 

Ed quickly solved that by setting up a few cameras (unbeknownst and to the protest of the rest of the crew). But she had proved that Spike tried to get up on his own the next time they found him flat on his back. He quit trying quite so hard after that. 

Though he was still up and about before he should’ve been. As always. 

The man didn’t know how to lie still. 

He was always moving. 

Faye knew the feeling. Movement was good because movement meant you didn’t have time to sit still with your thoughts. You couldn’t get wrapped up in the past if it could never catch you. She blew a cloud of smoke and watched Spike through it. She’d been running from her past too, until recently. 

Until the lunkhead nearly got himself killed. 

Until she realized that everything she’d ever really wanted was right here, in the present. Running from the past only made her exhausted and irritable. She’d divulged it all to Jet one night over a feverish Spike, when they’d both been talking just to keep each other awake. Not that she meant to spill her guts. It just sort of happened. But the more she talked, the more the words spilled out like water from a burst dam. 

She felt a blush creep up into her face just thinking about it. She’d admitted some pretty embarrassing stuff that night. It was a good thing Spike hadn’t been conscious for any of it. 

To her surprise, Jet hadn’t seemed to mention it to Spike. She was pretty sure that if he had, she would’ve heard about it by now. There’d be no way Spike could resist using the material for a dig at her for this long. 

On the deck, Spike finished up his routine and stood for a moment, staring out over the water. He leaned over slightly, hands propped on his knees, breathing heavily, but controlled. Steady in. Steady out. Faye snuffed her cigarette and walked toward him. 

He glanced at her over his shoulder as she walked up. The late afternoon sunlight did interesting things with the sheen of sweat on his body that Faye tried not to notice. 

Spike straightened up. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” 

He quirked an eyebrow at her as he retrieved the t-shirt pooled on the deck nearby and pulled it over his head. Over the scar that twisted up his side, thick and ropey. It looked...angry. Even after all this time. The skin puckered, shiny and new, clashing with the rest of his abdomen. 

He caught her staring. “Like what you see?” 

“No,” she said automatically. 

His brow furrowed for a second before he smoothed the expression away. 

“I mean...that’s not what I meant,” Faye hurriedly said. “I just...it’s just that…” 

He sighed. 

“I don’t like the scar,” she blurted out. 

He raised both eyebrows this time. “I thought you’d find it dashing.” 

Faye shivered, although a part of her was glad to hear Spike talking about his injuries so cavalierly. He hadn’t done that in quite some time. Usually mention of his scars sent him retreating, tight-lipped and scowling. 

“It’s not that,” Faye stumbled over the words. “It doesn’t...I mean, you still look...good.” 

His eyebrows went higher. 

“It’s a reminder,” she rushed. “He really hurt you, Spike.” 

She didn’t need to say his name. They both knew who she meant. The tiniest shiver went down Spike’s spine, though he tried to suppress it. Faye noticed, but she didn’t say anything. 

Spike sighed heavily. “Yeah. Well. Job hazard, I guess.” 

“Hey, do you want to get dinner?” Faye suddenly asked. 

“What?” 

Faye mentally smacked herself. It was a horrible and awkward transition and she knew it. But she didn’t know what else to say about the scar, about the life Spike lived before she met him. Before any of the Bebop crew met him. Jet had come closest to knowing that side of Spike, but even Jet didn’t know every detail. Over the last year or so, Faye found that there were a lot of details Spike kept hidden. 

She realized Spike was staring at her, waiting on her to answer. “Uhhh, dinner. You know, that thing you do where you eat food?” 

“You want to take me out?” 

“No! Not like that. I mean. Yes? It’s not a date. I just...thought you might like the chance to get off the ship, get something other than bell peppers and beef.” 

Spike smirked. “Is Jet cooking again?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Won’t he be mad if we skip dinner?” 

Faye rolled her eyes. “Let him be. I’m sick of bell peppers and beef. C’mon, Spike, don’t tell me you wouldn’t go for a nice, juicy hamburger right about now.” 

She practically saw his mouth water before he swallowed and tried to put on a stern face. Then he relented. “Yeah. You’re right. There’s only one problem.” 

“What’s that?” 

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Faye, but it’s not like I’ve been pulling jobs with any…” he paused, something strange flitting over his face. “...regularity, lately.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” She smiled slyly and pulled a plastic card out of her pocket. “I’ve got a few extra woolongs off that last bounty Jet doesn’t know about.” 

Spike snorted. “And you’re offering to spend it on me?” 

Faye held up a finger. “One hamburger.” 

Spike laughed. “Fine, Romany. Let me shower and I’ll take you up on that.” 

Faye started to protest, but Spike put a finger on her lips. “When I say shower, I don’t mean whatever it is you do in the bathroom for hours.” 

“Hey!” 

He tossed a smirk over his shoulder as he walked inside. 

True to his word, he reappeared less than ten minutes later, showered and dressed in his usual ensemble, sans jacket. His tie hung loose around his neck, his sleeves rolled up, casual and very roguish indeed. 

Faye bit the inside of her mouth and reminded herself not to get distracted. 

Spike walked up to where she was still waiting on deck and shook the last few drops of water out of his hair. “Alright, where are we going?” 

“Did you tell Jet?” Faye asked. 

“Psh. No.” 

Faye frowned. 

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission, am I right?” Spike grinned. 

Faye had to fight back a smile of her own. “You’re probably right. Let’s go.” 

In the end they stayed within walking distance of the ship and found themselves in a local joint serving greasy diner food and badly brewed coffee out of cheap ceramic cups with suspicious stains on the rims. 

But compared to weeks of bell peppers and more bell peppers, this hit the spot. Spike had a monstrosity of a burger in front of him, on a plate piled high with french fries drenched in ketchup, while Faye opted for a stack of pancakes nearly rivaling Spike’s burger. Gooey syrup ran down the sides of the stack as the butter and whipped cream on top melted. 

“How are you even going to eat that?” Faye demanded as Spike rubbed his hands together in anticipation. 

“Very carefully.” He waggled his eyebrows before grabbing the sandwich in both hands and stuffing his face in it. He pulled back, cheeks bulging with food as a plethora of toppings spilled out of the back of the burger, but his eyes were closed in an expression of pure happiness. 

Faye smirked. “That hit the spot, Cowboy?” She took a much more modest bite of her own pancakes, using a fork and knife to cut herself a manageable piece. 

It took a few minutes for Spike to chew and swallow enough to answer. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had food like this? I mean, real food.” 

“What, Jet doesn’t make real food?” 

Spike looked at her meaningfully as he took his second bite. 

“Ok, fair point. But you’ve been off the ship before, eaten out since...well, since you know.” 

Spike swallowed again. “Sure, on pocket change.” 

“Well, it’s not exactly like this place is five-star,” Faye muttered. 

The chef behind the counter gave her a glance. 

She smiled at him sweetly. 

“Yeah, but you’ve got enough on that card to actually buy me a full meal. ” 

Faye glanced at him thoughtfully. “Where have you been putting your money, then?” 

“Huh?” 

“From our bounties? I mean, you’ve been on enough hunts with me now that you should have a decent stash of your own. Unless you’re blowing it on something.” 

She could’ve sworn Spike’s face reddened before he buried it in his hamburger. By the time he could speak again, there was more ketchup on his face than blush. Faye frowned and handed him a napkin. He wiped his face clean. “Let’s just say Jet’s been a little...overprotective when it comes to my allowance.”

It was Faye’s turn to raise her eyebrows. “Your allowance ?” 

Spike cleared his throat and took a long gulp of his soda. “Yeah. He...uh. You know.”

Faye put down her knife and fork and stared Spike in the eye. Though he looked uncomfortable, he met her gaze. 

“Spike, what are you talking about? Is Jet withholding your part of the bounties?” 

“Not withholding. Not exactly. More like holding. For me.” 

“What the hell for?” Faye demanded. 

The chef glanced over from scrambling a large batch of eggs and Faye hurriedly lowered her voice. “I mean, what’s he think you’re going to do with it?” 

Spike shrugged. “Dunno. Run off, maybe.” 

Faye almost didn’t want to ask the next question. “Would you?” 

“Of course not!” he hotly denied. Though she noticed he’d set down his hamburger and was only absently stirring his fries around his plate now. “Ok, maybe I would’ve. At first.”

Faye cocked her head. 

“It wasn’t an exclusive decision. Jet and I agreed on it a while back. He’d hold onto most of my earnings for a while, make sure I didn’t do something stupid.” 

Almost without realizing it, Faye put her hand on Spike’s shoulder. He looked over at her in surprise, but he didn’t protest the gesture like she expected. Maybe it was because there was no one else to see it. Or maybe it was because...she felt her heart do a little flip-flip in her chest, but she didn’t let herself finish that thought in case she jinxed herself. 

“Well, I’m really glad you didn’t,” she said softly. 

“Yeah. Uh. Me too.” 

Faye pulled her hand back. Spike flashed her a hesitant smile. 

Faye picked up her fork again and cut herself another bite of pancakes before asking her next question. “Did you ever consider it?” 

Spike popped a few fries in his mouth. “Consider wha?” he asked, words muffled around the food. 

“Something stupid.” 

“Once or twice.” 

“Would you tell me what it was?” 

“Ha. No.” But he smirked as he said it, some of his easy manner coming back. His next handful of fries was larger, bulging his cheeks again. 

“God, Spike, it’s not the apocalypse. Slow down. You’re going to give yourself indigestion. And I am not dealing with the fallout if you puke on the way back to the ship.” 

Spike rolled his eyes and swallowed. “I’ve never puked in my life.” 

Faye put a careful bite of pancakes in her mouth and gave him a side-eye. She knew he’d been awake enough to remember when he’d first come out of the coma after Vicious’ parting gift and they couldn’t get him to keep anything down. It had apparently been a reaction to the severe trauma he’d put his body through and it had taken a few weeks before they’d managed to coax his stomach into remembering how to digest food properly. 

Spike had the good grace to look abashed. He’d regurgitated the contents of more than one meal onto Faye and Jet during that time and been far too weak to do much more about it than mumble embarrassed apologies. 

“Ok. So I’ve never made myself puke because I ate too fast,” he amended. 

“Not even as a kid?” Faye pictured an excited, but well-meaning young Spike stuffing his face at a birthday party or something. It’s not like Spike was the picture of restraint. Maybe in his childhood that drive had been aimed at something innocuous. Like cake. 

Spike grimaced. “Don’t think I ever had enough food for that as a kid, honestly.” 

“Oh.” Faye sobered, glancing away and drinking some of her coffee because she wasn’t sure what to say to that. 

“Not your fault.” Spike shrugged and picked up his burger again. “Just circumstances. But hey, I didn’t starve, so...there’s that.” 

“Yeah,” Faye agreed as she set down her coffee cup. “There’s that.” 

They ate in silence for a while. 

“Hey Spike?” 

“Hmm?” 

“I’m really glad you didn’t starve to death.” 

He glanced over with a raised eyebrow. “Well, you’re welcome, I guess?” 

Faye sighed, feeling that heat that was becoming so familiar around Spike creep into her cheeks again. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, I don’t take that back or anything! That’s just now how I meant to say --” 

“It’s ok. I think I know what you meant,” he interrupted. 

“You do?” She blinked wide eyes at him. 

“Yeah.” He studied his hamburger intently. 

“I’m glad you’re here, Spike,” she said. 

He met her eye this time and gave her a crooked smile. “I’m glad you asked me to dinner.”

Faye felt that warm feeling increase. 

“This is so much better than Jet’s cooking,” he said, mouth full again.

Faye smiled and tried to pretend like she didn’t feel like he’d just dumped a bucket of ice-water on her head. Then again, what had she been expecting? She told him this wasn’t a date, after all. 

And it wasn’t. 

Right?

Faye sighed and stuffed more pancakes into her mouth as Spike continued to devour his hamburger. 

But the silence between them this time was companionable and Spike even let her hang off his arm on the way back to the ship.

Chapter Text

“What’s love, Jet?” 

Ed suddenly swung down from the ceiling in Jet’s bonsai room, red hair brushing Jet’s nose as she came perilously close to smacking his forehead with hers. 

Jet grit his teeth and quelled the urge to jump, only just managing to angle his clippers so that he didn’t cut the wrong branch of the little tree he was pruning. 

“Geez, Ed, warn a guy, why don’t you!” he exclaimed. 

“Sorry!” Ed chirped. “But, Jet, what is love?” 

“What is what now? Ed, why are you even asking me that?” 

“Because Ed wants to know.” 

“You’re too young,” Jet grumbled as he gently pushed Ed out of the way. 

She slithered sideways on the pipe she swung from and let herself down onto the edge of Jet’s table, where she perched cross-legged among his plants. “Not too young,” she persisted. 

Jet sighed. “Have you been talking to Faye lately?” 

“No, Spike-person!” 

Jet raised his eyebrows. “Spike was talking about love?” 

“Well, maybe,” Ed said. “That’s why Ed wants to know! Spike-person said funny things in his room last night.” 

“In his...room? Ed! You can’t spy on the crew like that!” 

“Ed wasn’t spying! Ed just walked by!” 

“In the hall?” Jet asked sternly. 

“Weeeellll…” Ed pressed her toes together and looked at the ceiling like it was really interesting. 

“Exactly.” Jet frowned. “You can’t spy on the crew. Especially Spike.” Jet shuddered, wondering what Ed might have seen in her tenure with the Bebop and decided that was one thing he didn’t want to know. 

“Why?” Ed blinked up at him, one finger dangling from her lip. 

“Because people’s rooms are supposed to be private!” 

“Well, duh! Ed knows that!” Ed clapped her hands. “It’s not like Ed does a look-see. Even Ed knows that’s no bueno.” 

“Oh, good.” Jet put his head in his hand. 

“But Jet...what is--” 

“Love, I know.” 

He didn’t answer for a long time. Ed started humming to the bonsai trees, singing a silly little ditty that sounded like she was making it up on the spot. 

Finally, Jet looked up. “Ok. So you have things you love, right?”

“Well, sure! Ed loves Ein, and the Bebop, and yummies-in-Ed’s-tummies.” 

Jet chuckled. “Right. So, love is when you care about something very, very much. But there’s lots of different kinds of love.” 

“There is?” Ed blinked. 

“Well, sure. The way you feel about Ein is different than the way you feel about yummies--” Jet stopped himself with a sigh. “About food, right?” 

“Uhhh…” Ed put a finger on her chin in thought. 

“You love food because you can eat it and it tastes good, but you don’t love Ein for that.” I hope.

Ed nodded her head so fast her goggles slipped down over her forehead. She pushed them back up. “Ein doesn’t taste good!” she declared. 

“Er, exactly,” Jet said, hoping that declaration was merely metaphorical. “You love Ein because you can play with him and hug him and pet him and nap with him. He’s always there for you.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“So that’s love.” 

“Love is petting Ein?” 

Jet laughed again. “Well, sometimes.” 

“But what about Spike-person and Faye Faye?” 

“What about them?” Jet asked carefully, focusing on his bonsai again. 

“Are they in love?” 

Jet didn’t answer for a while. How the hell was he supposed to answer that anyway? Were Spike and Faye in love? His gut answer was no. But there’d been little things lately. The way Faye complained less about Spike’s company. The way Spike let his gaze linger on Faye as she walked by their shogi game. The way Faye had been conveniently cornering Spike for outings and Spike wasn’t resisting...much. 

Jet finally shrugged. “That’s not really my business.” 

“So they are in love!” Ed cheered, hugging herself. 

“No!” 

Ed looked crestfallen. “They’re not in love?” 

“Well...I don’t know. I mean, they’re partners. They work together. They care about each other.” 

“Like they do with Jet?” 

“Yeah. Like...family.” 

“Family is love,” Ed declared. 

“Yes.” 

“But then there’s kissy-kissy love, like on the TV or Faye Faye’s books!” Ed grabbed a nearby bonsai and planted a huge smooch on its top branch. “That’s different. Even Ed knows that. Do you think Spike-person and Faye Faye have kissy-kissy love?” 

Jet just stared at Ed with his mouth open. He didn’t have an answer for that one. Nor was he previously aware that Ed really knew anything about romantic love. It seemed he was going to have to have a conversation with Faye about age-appropriate television after this. 

Ed suddenly looked at Jet seriously. “Jet, did Spike-person and Julia-girl have kissy-kissy love?” 

“Uh.” Jet felt his throat tighten. “Yes. They did.” 

“So, love hurts.” Ed frowned.

Jet felt something suspiciously wet in his eyes. “Sometimes. Why do you ask that, Ed?”

“Cause that’s what Spike-person said last night.” 

“Is it?” Jet asked, genuinely surprised. 

“Well, something like that. It sounded like he was talking to Julia-girl,” Ed mused. 

Talking. To Julia? Jet knew he couldn’t have really been talking to Julia, but he wouldn’t be entirely surprised if Spike talked to himself at night. Jet knew he didn’t always sleep well. 

Ed suddenly looked sad. “Jet, will Ed’s love for Ein or yummies-in-Ed’s-tummies hurt?” 

Jet managed a smile. “Probably not.” Though he knew it would, eventually. Corgis, even special ones like Ein, didn't live forever. 

Ed’s nose scrunched up. “Then why do people love, if it hurts so much?” 

Jet sighed, old memories swirling in his chest. “Because love is worth it, Ed.” 

“Worth it even if it gives you ouchies?” 

“Yes. When there’s someone you care about a lot, then sometimes getting hurt isn’t so bad.” 

Ed tilted her head thoughtfully. “You mean like when Spike-person faced the Dragon for us?” 

Jet blinked. “For us?” 

“Yeah!” Ed nodded enthusiastically again. “Because Spike-person loved Bebop . He wanted to stay here, with us. But he couldn’t do that unless he ‘sploded the Dragon!” She threw her hands up and mimicked an explosion noise. 

“Who told you that?” 

“Spike-person.” She shrugged, like it was obvious. 

Something tightened in Jet’s chest. “He did?” 

“Yeah. When he was all beat up. When he looked scary.” Ed hunched up, gripping her feet tightly. 

“You were scared of Spike?” 

“No.” Ed shook her head emphatically. “Ed was scared for Spike-person. Jet, what if he didn’t make it back to Bebop Bebop? ”

“I don’t know.” Jet swallowed hard. “But hey,” he reached over and ruffled Ed’s hair. “He did come back. And he’s fine. So we don’t have to worry about that.” 

“Jet?” 

“Yeah, kiddo?” 

“Do you think Spike-person will ever leave again?” 

Jet steepled his fingers and thought about it for a minute. “No, Ed.” He smiled. “I don’t think he will.”

“Because Bebop Bebop loves him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Even though it hurts sometimes?” 

“Especially then.”

Chapter Text

Faye woke up, mouth fuzzy. She rolled over and stared at the ceiling, blinking blearily. Damn it. She shouldn’t have had that last drink. Or that last cigarette. She’d had fun. Really. Except that Spike didn’t go with her this time. It was meant to be another step toward making him notch thirteen, but the lunkhead suddenly had something to do when she proposed a visit to a jazz bar last night. After their conversation in the diner, Faye thought they’d been getting somewhere. Then they returned to the ship and Spike returned to being stand-offish. 

What was his deal, anyway? Why couldn’t he just act like he cared? They could pretend, right? Everyone knew that if you pretended long enough, the illusion became real. People did it all the time. 

Faye groaned and pulled her pillow over her head. Yeah. Everyone but Spike. She’d never be able to force him into a relationship like that. Especially not after all he’d been through. And frankly, she didn’t want to. If she was going to make him notch thirteen, she was going to do it for real, damn it. 

So, she just had to figure out what the road block was and remove it. 

Maybe Ed could help. Faye knew she spent more than her fair share of time lurking on the ship, listening. She’d accidentally let slip lots of private conversations. She could spy on Spike. 

Faye jolted upright, shaking her head. What was she thinking? She couldn’t spy on Spike! And definitely not with Edward. 

Faye flopped back on her pillow, throwing her hands over her head. She needed a plan, that was all. She just had to spend more time with Spike, really figure out what made him tick. She supposed there was always the sheer sex angle. He had to be wanting it. It had been what -- months? Years? Not that she could say that with any certainty. There’d been periods where Spike was gone from the ship long enough that he could have found a pretty thing somewhere. But Faye had the distinct feeling that he hadn’t had sex with anyone since Julia. Which was sweet, in a way. And also damn lonely. Julia was gone. Was he devoted to her ghost? Her memory? Couldn’t have sex with either of those. 

Faye sighed. If all she wanted to do was wrangle a one night stand out of Spike, she figured she could do it eventually. If she just kept pressing, kept hinting, kept stoking desire, he’d have to give in. Right? But then that wouldn’t be real. It would just be another manipulation game and she wanted this to be real. 

But wasn’t she already manipulating him, trying to make him notch thirteen? It’s not like she’d told him her intentions. But if she did, he wouldn’t play into her hand. This wasn’t manipulation. It was simply playing smart. Keeping her cards close to her chest. Because she damn well wasn’t going to fold. Either she or Spike was bluffing and she was determined to hold out long enough to find out which one of them it was. 

Faye licked her lips, realizing again just how dry her mouth was. She needed something to drink. She reached over to the bedside table, where she usually kept a glass of water, but her fingers met nothing but bottles of nail polish and palettes of eyeshadow. 

Faye grumbled under her breath. Of course she forgot to pour herself a glass of water last night. 

With a groan, she sat up and stuck her legs out of bed, shivering at the sudden influx of cold air. She slipped her feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers and grabbed a robe, sliding it over her t-shirt and underwear. She was just going to the galley. The dishes didn’t care if she was wearing pants. 

She staggered out into the hall, nearly tripping over Ein, who was snoring in the middle of her doorway. 

“Blasted mutt,” she muttered.

Ein grumbled in his sleep, but didn’t wake up. Faye stepped over him and closed her door, then padded down the hall to the kitchen. She found a clean glass and filled it with water, gulping it down. She felt a little less fuzzy when she was done. She filled the glass a second time and started to carry it back to her room when she heard something. 

Faint jazz, coming from the living room. 

Faye yawned. 

It was -- well, she didn’t actually know what time it was. She hadn’t looked at a clock. But it felt late enough that everyone should be asleep and entirely too early for any sane soul to be starting their day. So, who was listening to jazz in the living room at this hour? 

Three guesses who, and she was pretty sure she didn’t need the first two. She crept down the hall and leaned against the rounded door frame behind the couch. 

A familiar curly head was tipped back on the couch, cigarette dangling from his lips, red tip glowing in the dark. Smoke curled over his head. His eyes were closed, though Faye was certain he wasn’t asleep. There was too much tension in his shoulders. A small radio sat on the coffee table, the source of the music. 

Seems she wasn’t the only one suffering from insomnia tonight. 

By the amount of cigarette butts on the coffee table and the half-empty bottle of whiskey beside the radio, one of them had been up a lot longer than the other. Had Spike even gone to bed? Was this what he did when he couldn’t sleep? 

Faye watched him a moment longer, uncertain if she should intrude or not. Then she made up her mind and walked over to the couch. She stood at the arm, on the farthest side from Spike. 

Just in case. 

“Hey, Cowboy. Can’t sleep?” 

He opened red-rimmed eyes and gave her a look. It wasn’t antagonistic. Just tired. “What makes you say that?” He pulled the cigarette from his mouth. 

“Intuition.” She shrugged and looked down at the coffee table so that she didn’t have to look at the way the soft lights hit just the right places on Spike’s bare chest. 

He leaned forward and switched the radio off. “Sorry, was I too loud?” 

“No. I...uh. I was thirsty.” She held up the glass of water. 

“Oh. Cottonmouth?” 

She grimaced. 

“Hangover?” 

“No, not that bad. You mind if I, uh?” She gestured at the couch. 

He shrugged, but he didn’t stop her when she sat down beside him. Not too close, mind you. It was only after she sat down that she remembered she didn’t have pants and made sure her robe was securely closed. While the thought of flashing some thigh was...alluring...she didn’t want Spike to think she’d come to proposition him. Because she hadn’t. 

Notch thirteen…

She sighed. 

He raised an eyebrow. It was becoming a common reaction. 

She half-opened her mouth, then realized that she had nothing to say, so she took a drink of water instead. She was glad it was dark in the living room. Hopefully the dim glow of the safety lights was enough to hide any blush on her cheeks. 

“I’m not fragile, you know. You can ask,” Spike said. 

She swallowed some of her water wrong and ended up coughing, sitting forward suddenly and spewing water on the coffee table.

Spike thumped her on the back. 

She put the glass down and hurriedly rearranged her robe, which had come dangerously close to revealing her pink panties. 

Faye spluttered, “What are you talking about?” 

“I know you have questions. About the Tower. About Julia. I’m not going to fall apart just because you ask me the hard stuff.” 

“Spike, I…” Faye didn’t even know where to begin. She definitely hadn’t come prepared to ask hard questions tonight. 

He sighed, leaning back against the couch, hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling again. Somewhere in the chaos, he’d snuffed his cigarette in the ashtray on the coffee table. 

“Was it you?” he finally asked. 

“Huh?” 

“The sleeping pills.” 

Faye felt herself blush again. She thought about denying it, but it didn’t make sense to. Not when he’d already figured it out for himself. “Yeah.” 

“Did the doctor give them to you?” 

“No. He suggested a few things. Said he couldn’t prescribe anything without, well, you know.” 

“Without me asking myself.” 

“Yeah.” 

They lapsed into silence. 

Faye broke it. “Did they help?” 

Spike shifted. “Actually? Yes.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s good, right?” 

“Maybe. I’m out, though.”

“You want more?” 

He shrugged. But he didn’t say no.   

Faye tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sorry. If I overstepped some sort of boundary or something.” 

He looked over at her, his expression mildly surprised. “You didn’t. It was…probably best you left them for me to find on my own. Probably wouldn’t’ve used ‘em otherwise.” 

Faye smirked. “That’s why I didn’t tell you to take them. I knew you’d refuse on principle if I suggested it.” 

Spike snorted. “I would like to know how you got into my room though.” 

Faye fiddled with the belt on her robe. “Ed,” she finally admitted. “I asked her to drop them in there for me.” 

Spike scrubbed a hand over his face. “Of course.” Then he raised his voice a little. “If you’re eavesdropping, Edward, go to bed!” 

There was no response. 

It was Faye’s turn to look surprised. “Was she…?” 

“Don’t know, but I’ve caught her at it before.” Spike sounded annoyed. 

Faye shuddered, hoping Ed hadn’t been eavesdropping on this conversation.

“Don’t think she watches any of us, if that makes you feel any better,” Spike continued.

“Ugh.” 

Spike made a noise that was somewhere between a snort and a laugh. 

“Have you talked to her about it?” Faye asked. 

“Not directly, although I’ve given her a couple of hints. I caught her once or twice. Actually managed to scare the crap out of her, for once.” 

Faye tried and failed to hold back a snicker. Ed was usually the one startling the rest of the crew with her sudden appearances, popping up and asking questions about something you thought you’d kept to yourself. She would’ve liked to have seen the expression on Ed’s face when the tables were turned. Spike would be the one with enough prowess to catch their resident hooligan unawares. 

Spike sighed. “I think she started doing it when I...after the Tower. To see if I was ok. She caught on that you and Jet weren’t telling her everything.” 

“Of course we weren’t!” Faye exclaimed before remembering to lower her voice. “You don’t tell a -- what, eleven, twelve-year-old that her friend might be dying!” 

Spike swallowed hard. 

“Sorry,” Faye murmured. 

“No, it’s the truth.” 

Faye sighed. “It was really scary, Spike. We were all terrified. I don’t ever want to have to go through that again.” 

“Me neither.” 

“Good. Because if you ever pull something like what you pulled at the Tower again, I’ll personally finish you off.” 

Spike made a noise of agreement, but he didn’t look at Faye. He kept his eyes on the ceiling fan (still, for once), hands behind his head. “How did you find me, Faye?” 

“What?” 

“At the Tower.” 

Faye took a deep breath. “Well, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out where you went. Still, it took us long enough. Too long. In the end, it was Ed who tapped into some Dragon radio wave and confirmed your location. And then I had to fix the Red Tail. I jury-rigged that thing so bad I crash-landed it on Tharsis.” Faye half-chuckled. Jet had yelled at her for nearly getting herself killed trying to save Spike. Then he’d yelled at her for making the repairs to the Red Tail even more expensive. Faye swallowed. “It was over a day, Spike.” 

“What?” 

“It was over a day before I got to you.” 

“That’s not possible.” He sat up, looked her straight in the eye. 

Faye shrugged. 

“Faye, I would’ve bled out. What are you not telling me?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“What do you mean, you don’t know?” 

“I mean, I don’t know how you didn’t die, Spike.” She felt tears well up in her eyes, unexpected. “Someone...someone saved you.” 

“What?” 

“When I got to you, someone had pulled you off to the side, half-hid you in the wreckage. They’d bandaged you up. Given you some medical attention. I don’t know. I really don’t.”

Spike stared at her wide-eyed. His expression was half fearful, half amazed. It was 100% incredulous. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again. 

“Stop saying that.” 

“What?” 

“Stop apologizing. You don’t know, so what? Fine. You don’t know. It’s not like you’re not telling me.” 

Faye swallowed. 

“Are you?” He lunged for her before she had a chance to react, pressing her back into the corner of the couch. She pulled her legs up, feeling suddenly very small. His eyes flickered back and forth between hers, breath sharp with whiskey. 

“No!” She instinctively put her hands up, pushed against his chest. “I’m not lying. I really don’t know!” 

He stayed for a heartbeat too long, his hands on either side of Faye’s shoulders, her hands on his chest. There was something predatory and feral about him. Something frightening and at the same time intoxicating. Faye breathed in his scent -- something smoky, a little musky, a faint whiff of soap. 

Then he relaxed and sat back. “I believe you.” 

Faye opened her mouth, but she caught herself and stopped before she said “I’m sorry” again. She wrapped her hands around her knees, feeling vulnerable. 

He looked back over at her and she was surprised to see his eyebrows go up, mouth open. “Um...Faye…” he gestured loosely. 

She looked down and realized that her robe was bunched in her lap, completely open and she knew she blushed this time. Probably as bright as her panties. She put her legs down with a little shriek and hastily tucked her robe around herself.

“I’m sorry!” she yelped. 

Spike took a long time to answer, but when he did, he met her eye and smirked. “Don’t be.”  

“Spike Spiegel, I’m going to--” She pulled back one hand, as if she were going to slap him, but she knew she wasn’t going to. She stumbled over the words as she tried to figure out exactly what she was going to do. 

“Don’t hurt yourself, Romany.” 

“Ugh!” She jumped up and grabbed her glass of water. “I’m going back to bed!” 

“Suit yourself.” Spike shrugged. 

Faye stomped her foot. Why was he being so nonchalant all of a sudden? She huffed and swept out of the room. 

“Faye?” He called as she got to the doorway. 

“What?” She turned, irritated. 

“You have nice legs.” He grinned at her. 

She felt something hot and angry bubble up in her chest. This wasn’t what she intended when she sat on the couch next to him. This wasn’t at all how she thought their conversation was going to go. Wasn’t she supposed to be playing him ? She settled on the first insult that came to mind. “Pervert!” 

He chuckled as she escaped back to her room.

Chapter Text

“You look like hell, Spike-o,” Jet said as Spike topped the stairs to the bridge. 

“Gee, thanks.” Spike had a beer in his hand and came to flop down in the navigator’s chair beside Jet. Jet was running final checks on the Bebop . They were close to getting off Ganymede. This afternoon, maybe, tomorrow morning for sure. They all needed the change in scenery, perhaps Spike most of all. 

Despite his insistence that he was fine, his pale complexion and the dark shadows under his eyes said otherwise. He’d been running bounties with Faye the last few weeks, with no serious side effects. His injuries were healed up enough now that as long as he didn’t try anything crazy, he’d be fine. But something else was bothering him, that much was clear. 

“Have you been sleeping?” Jet asked.  

“Et tu, Brute?” 

Jet shrugged. “It’s pretty obvious. Did Faye ask too?” 

Spike snorted. “Faye found me the other night, decidedly not asleep.” 

Jet raised an eyebrow. 

“Not like that,” Spike said dryly.  

Jet held up his hands. “Not my business even if it was, partner.” 

Spike sighed and sipped his beer, staring out the windows. Jet watched him out of the corner of his eye as he kept the diagnostic reports going. Spike wasn’t one to spill his guts if pressed, but he usually talked if Jet just waited long enough.

“Jet, do you think…” Spike trailed off. 

“I think a lot of things, Spike.” 

“Shut up, I’m trying to be serious here.” 

“You’re succeeding, so far.” 

Spike glared at him. 

Jet stared back. 

Spike looked away first. He really was hot and bothered! Spike never looked away first. Jet was pretty sure it was the first rule of being an enforcer, something drilled into Spike since day one with the Dragon. If you looked away, you showed weakness. You were submissive. You died. 

Jet sighed. “What’s on your mind, Spike-o?” 

“Jet, have you noticed anything different about Faye lately?” 

Well, that question came out of left field. Or maybe not. After all, hadn’t Ed hit this same nail on the head the other day? He decided on a careful approach. “What do you mean different?” 

“I mean...she’s actually being...nice?” 

“She can do that, you know.” 

“Yeah, but since when?” 

Jet sighed and ran a hand over his head. “Since we pulled you out of the Tower.” 

“I know she’s the one who came and got me. I know you guys don’t know how I survived.” 

Jet sighed. “You two talked, I take it?” 

“Something like that.” 

“Look, Spike. We don’t know who saved your life. Or why. But you had a friend on the inside over there, apparently. Whoever they were, they were long gone when we got to you.” 

“Dead.” It wasn’t a question. 

Jet shrugged. “Maybe.” 

“I mean, they kind of have to be, don’t they?” 

“Why?” 

Spike made a half-choked noise. 

“Who knows, Spike? Maybe they ran before police attention got too stiff. Maybe they’re dead. Maybe they’re not even Dragon.” 

“Oh, yeah. Like some random good Samaritan showed up and put me back together.” 

“Stranger things have happened.” 

“But not to me, Jet.” 

Jet looked over at Spike. Spike clutched his beer bottle in his hand, white-knuckled, condensation dripping down his fingers. His eyes were wide, filled with the half-light of crazy lurking behind several days’ worth of missed sleep. He was nearly shaking. With fatigue? Or something else? Jet sighed. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Spike looked like an addict in need of a fix.

“Not to me,” Spike repeated, hoarse. 

“Why not?” Jet asked gently. 

Spike dropped his head into his free hand, then he raked his fingers through his hair and looked back up at Jet. “Because I don’t deserve it.” 

Jet stopped. That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. He looked back at the control panel, then forced himself to meet Spike’s tortured gaze again. 

“Spike--” 

“No! You know who I was, Jet. Who I am. I’m not a hero. I’m not even a good guy! Why me?” 

Jet was quiet for a long time. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Spike this agonized over a question. It was a valid question. Why Spike? But really, why any of them? Why hadn’t Jet died in Fad’s corrupt plot? Why hadn’t Faye’s exploits caught up to her before she found a safe haven on the Bebop? Why wasn’t Ed killed by a random asteroid on Earth?

“Spike…” Jet sighed. How did he even answer this one? “Why do you have to deserve it?” 

Spike stopped. He didn’t even blink, just stared at Jet, mouth half-open like he couldn’t comprehend what Jet asked. In fact, Jet wasn’t even sure if Spike was breathing. Right about the point he was starting to get concerned, Spike blinked. He shut his mouth and sat back in the navigator’s chair. He took a long swig of his beer. Then he looked back at Jet. “I don’t know.” 

“Exactly. The world doesn’t operate on who deserves what, pard. Trust me. If it did, it’d be a much different place. You of all people should know that. Good things happen to bad people. Bad things happen to good people. We don’t always get an explanation for it. But you know what we do get?” 

Spike shook his head. 

“The chance to live the life we’ve got. And sometimes, we get a second chance, just when we think it’s all over. We’re a collection of second chances, Spike. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

Spike sighed, but there was something a little more relaxed about his posture. Something a little less pinched about his face. “Is that why Faye is being so nice to me? Because this is some weird sort of second chance?” 

Jet wasn’t quite sure where this was going. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean -- God, Jet, you’re not that oblivious. Surely you’ve noticed? All these little favors. She even bought me dinner!” 

Jet fought to hold back a smile. “So?” 

“So, it’s just…” Spike struggled for words for a moment. “It’s weird.” 

Jet thought back to his conversation with Ed the other day and decided to go out on a limb and see how Spike reacted. “It’s weird that Faye might be attracted to you?” 

He skipped a beat before answering. “No. I mean, she’s been after me like Ein to a bone since day one.” 

Jet raised an eyebrow. “Day one? Think you’re inflating your own ego there a little, pard?” 

“Ok, maybe she hated me at first, but that didn’t last long.” 

“So, you’re not blind.” 

“What?” 

“You knew she liked you?” 

“Of course I did! What, you think I don’t notice all her coy smiles and all that drama with her gun the night I...left?” 

Jet studiously lit a cigarette. 

“And what about all these dates she’s taking me on now?” Spike demanded. “Don’t tell me she took me shopping for fun. Or bought me dinner because she just felt like it. How can I not notice, Jet?”  

“You aren’t exactly known for your subtlety, pal.” 

“I’m not blind!” 

“That’s what I said.” 

Spike growled and gulped his beer. “Look. I just want Faye to stop whatever --” he gestured vaguely with his bottle -- “this is. I can handle her being sneaky and subversive and whiney and haughty, but this nice stuff? I mean, c’mon, Jet, she wants something out of me!” 

“Well, that’s obvious.” 

Spike side-eyed him. “Has she told you what it is?” 

“No! What do you take me for, her confidant?” 

“You two got pretty chummy while I was lying around the ship, I hear.”

 “What did you expect us to do? Kill each other?” 

Spike coughed. “Maybe.” 

"If we killed each other, who would put you back together?" 

Spike stared out the window. "Fair point," he muttered. 

Jet sighed. “Faye and I had a lot of time to talk, Spike. We came to a sort of...mutual understanding.” 

“About what?” 

“Life. Our pasts. You. The Bebop. You might want to give her a second chance, pard.” 

“Are you rooting for her?” Spike spluttered. 

“No! Not romantically.” Jet held his hands up. “Let me be clear, I haven’t encouraged any of this. I just think maybe you should let Faye have a fresh start. She really stepped up while you were out of it. I’m not saying she lost all her bad habits overnight or anything, but I saw some real change in her.” 

“Pfft.” Spike took another swig of his beer. 

Jet shrugged and smoked in silence. 

“Ok, but I still think it’s weird,” Spike said a moment later. 

Jet looked over with a sly smile. “You keep saying that. So, what do you want me to do about it?” 

“Nothing! Why do you think I want you to do something about it?” 

“You have been pretty demanding lately.”

“That’s sort of necessary when you can’t get your own ass out of bed!”  

“Touché.” 

Spike growled. 

“You want me to throw her off the ship?” Jet asked casually.

“What? I never said --” 

“It would solve your problem.” 

“No, Jet.” 

Jet smiled knowingly. “So you’re saying it wouldn’t solve your problem?” 

“No, I’m saying I don’t want you to throw her off the ship. I can damn well handle her myself.” Spike plunked his beer down on the dashboard and stood up. “Last time I’m gonna confide in you, though.”

Jet looked mock-hurt. He knew Spike didn’t mean it. He was usually the first Spike confided in, when he finally worked himself up to speaking. And he’d always be there for Spike, regardless of Spike’s feelings on the matter. 

Spike looked like he might say something else, then he shook his head, abandoned his half-drunk beer, and left the bridge.  

Jet chuckled, picked up the beer, and helped himself to the rest of it. It certainly had been an interesting few weeks on the Bebop , but there was something amusing about sitting back and watching this complicated dance Faye dragged Spike into. Spike was more riled than he wanted to admit and Jet didn’t think all of it was because he couldn’t explain how he survived the Tower.

Besides, Spike could resist Faye’s tango if he really wanted, extricate himself with his usual bravado and finesse. But he hadn’t. 

So the real question was did Spike want it? 

Jet shook his head and propped his feet up against the dash. He was getting too old for this sort of drama. And yet, it would hardly be the Bebop without a little drama, would it?

Chapter Text

“You have to sleep sometime, Spike.” Faye crossed her arms and stared down at the lanky cowboy, who was absently shuffling a deck of cards on the couch. His movements were clumsier than usual, and he’d scattered the cards across the floor more than once. He loudly declared he was simply trying a new trick and hadn’t got it down yet, but even Ein gave him a knowing whine as he scooted cards back to Spike with his nose. The corgi took up a position at Spike’s feet, head on his paws, watching Spike with wary eyes. 

Spike sighed, staring at the deck as he put it back together for the fourth or fifth time. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Faye stomped a foot. “That’s just it, lunkhead! You don’t start sleeping, you might end up dead!” 

He looked up sharply, brows drawn. “I’ve run on less sleep before, Faye.” 

“Who cares? It’s not good for you!” 

His mouth tightened, but he didn’t answer. 

She sighed. “What about the pills? Have they been helping?” 

Spike grimaced, frowning and drawing a hand sharply across his neck. 

Faye rolled her eyes. “There’s no one else here right now. Jet took Ed into town to get some supplies.” They’d landed in Tharsis a few days ago, stopping to pick up the last few parts for the Bebop, stuff that had to be specially machined, and to follow up on a few ripe bounties in the area. 

Spike had been cagey since. 

Because the Tower ruins were here? 

Spike sighed and flopped back on the couch, resting his head on the back, staring at the ceiling. 

“Spike, I asked you a question.” Faye wasn’t going to let him get away with ignoring her this time. 

“I don’t know, Faye. I haven’t been using them.” 

“Why the hell not?” She threw up her hands. “You said they helped!” 

“Yeah.” 

“I brought you more. Didn’t you find them?” 

“I did.” 

“What, so they don’t help now?” 

“No.” 

“You’re being obtuse.” 

He smirked. 

“I want an answer. A straight one.” Faye tapped her foot. 

He sighed and sat back up, scrubbing his hands over his face. “Look, Faye, I don’t want to develop a dependence, ok?” 

Faye rolled her eyes. “You’re not going to.” 

Spike shrugged. 

“They’re sleeping pills for heaven’s sake, not Red Eye! C’mon, Spike, there are lots of people who take something to help them sleep. It’s not that weird.” 

“Do you?” His gaze was pointed.

Faye felt suddenly uncomfortable, like he could see through her to things she normally kept hidden. She pulled her arms closer to her chest. She could lie, say she slept like a rock. But what would be the point? Then she’d be doing the exact same thing Spike was -- acting tough for no reason. Besides, if she wanted a relationship that wasn’t based on manipulation...she took a deep breath. Well. Had to start somewhere. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “Sometimes.” 

Spike’s eyes widened fractionally, as if he hadn’t expected her to admit it. 

“That’s why I figured they’d help you. Because if my past is rattling around enough in my head to keep me up at night, then yours definitely is.” 

Spike grimaced, going a shade paler. He didn’t look good, not with the ever present shadows under his eyes and his mussed hair. The scar at his hairline stood out starker against his skin, playing hide-and-seek with his curls. 

“What…” he stopped, licked his lips, then started again. “What keeps you up at night, Faye?” 

Faye stopped. She hadn’t anticipated the question. Not from Mr. I’m-too-busy-dealing-with-my-own-problems-to-notice-anyone-else-has-any. 

Faye sat down in the chair across from the couch. She didn’t meet Spike’s eye for a long time. 

He fidgeted, finally taking a breath, as if to speak.

She answered before he could get words in. “Cryo is terrifying.” She looked back up, met that mis-matched gaze. 

“I, uh. Yeah. Ok.” He nodded. 

“I mean, I don’t expect you to get it, not really. But do you know how absolutely disorienting it was? To wake up and not know who I was or where I was or why there was nobody in this world that I knew?” 

Spike shook his head. 

Faye found herself continuing. “There were people prodding me, poking me. There were doctors and nurses and needles and tubes and people shoving things at me saying “eat” and “drink.” They dressed me. They undressed me.” She shivered. “I was just a human doll they were playing life with.” 

She didn't look up to meet Spike's gaze. She couldn’t bear to confirm what she might find. Pity. That’s what everybody gave her when she talked about what it was like to wake up from the cryo. To be roughly fifty years disconnected from her old life. From who she was. Which was why she eventually stopped talking about it. Because she learned real quick that the only thing pity was good for was manipulating people with a soft heart. And while Spike certainly didn't fall into that category, she didn't want pity from the cowboy. 

So she settled on scowling at the floor, hugging herself tightly. 

Spike was silent for a long moment. He cleared his throat and got the words out, barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.” 

Normally, Faye would have snapped at anyone who offered the trite words as a response to her story. I’m sorry didn’t fix anything. It couldn’t go back and restore her life, her family, her memories. And though she was in a much better place now than she had been, that didn’t mean she felt happy about her past. There were things in your life that you never truly forgot, things that crept up on you, that lurked in your nightmares, no matter how hard you tried to leave them behind. Waking up from cryo was one of them, not to mention the manipulation and lies that followed. 

But there was something in his voice that made her pause. Something warm. Something almost...compassionate? Something that she'd longed to hear from him. Though she never expected to hear it like this. An icy finger of fear plunged into her chest a moment later. What if it was just pity? Was Spike like the others? Was he going to make the appropriate sighs and exclamations of dismay and then treat her like she was made of porcelain?  Or move on and leave her behind because he didn't want to get tangled in her past? 

She forced herself to take a deep breath. Jet hadn't. When she finally divulged a lot of her fears to the stalwart ex-cop, he'd just listened patiently, asked her questions, and told her he'd always be there to listen if she needed to talk about it. But Spike was no Jet. Would he run from her past like he ran from his own? Faye risked a glance at him, meeting his gaze. 

He looked back at her earnestly. It wasn't pity she saw. It was something almost...understanding.

Her breath caught in her throat. The words growing on her lips died and she looked down again, fumbling with the sleeve of her sweater. 

“Faye," he called her name.

She dragged her eyes back up to his. 

He gave her a reassuring smile. "I...um. Well, I can’t say I had my memories wiped or anything, but I know what it feels like to wake up one day and realize that who you thought you were isn’t who you are. It's disorienting." 

Faye tilted her head. Was Spike talking about the day he realized he didn’t want to be Dragon? She knew, ultimately, he’d been manipulated by the Syndicate, though he’d been amazingly tight-lipped about the details. 

He ran a hand through his hair and let out a breath. “It sucks.” 

Faye felt something in her chest loosen and her breath came a little easier. She managed a half-smile. “That’s an understatement.” 

“Heh. Yeah.” 

Faye glanced at him under her lashes. He had his elbows on his knees, cards in hand, though he wasn’t shuffling them anymore. He kept flicking one finger against the back of the deck, a steady rhythm. He was nervous. Faye dipped her head to hide her smirk. About talking? About confiding in her? About listening to her fears? For all his usual confidence, Spike sure got skittish when emotions were on the table. 

Faye looked up. “You know, you’re not as far from human as you think.” 

Spike stilled, tilting his head and giving her a quizzical look. “What?” 

“You walk around acting like you’re some sort of...I don’t know…” Faye rolled her hand, looking for the word. “Monster or something. But you’re not. You’re just human. Like the rest of us. So you stumble and you fall and you have nightmares and you can’t always find the right thing to say to make other people understand.” 

“Faye--” 

“So what, Spike? So what?” she interrupted. “We feel that stuff too. Me and Jet. We’ve all got rough pasts. We’ve all got stuff we’d rather forget, people who hurt us, people who abandoned us. C’mon, Spike. You don’t have to do this alone.” 

He blinked, looking absolutely stunned by her declaration. “I never--” 

“Don’t deny it,” Faye snapped. 

They stared at each other for a moment. Spike cleared his throat, but he didn’t speak. 

Faye gave him a smile. “You have friends, Spike. We’re here for you. And, you know, sometimes you're not so bad to have around.” Like right now, surprisingly.  

Spike didn’t meet her gaze this time. Instead, he stared at Ein. He blinked and swiped at his face and Faye could’ve sworn she saw a streak of silver down his cheek, but she didn’t comment. She looked away, giving him a moment. 

After a few minutes, she looked back. He was shuffling cards again. 

“You know what we both need?” she asked. 

He shook his head. 

“A distraction.” 

Spike looked up with a badly concealed expression of surprise. 

Faye laughed. That was a look she’d rarely pulled out of Spike. His surprise, instead of an instant rebuttal to her subtle innuendo meant...well, she wasn’t exactly sure what, but it seemed a lot closer to notch thirteen than anything so far. 

“Not like that, lunkhead.” 

Spike gave her a look of mock innocence. “Like what?” 

Faye shook her head, eyes sparkling. She wasn’t going to explain that to him. Instead, she reached over to the coffee table and grabbed the TV remote, turning on the small TV set in the living room. 

“You want to watch TV?” Spike raised an eyebrow, his incredulous veneer returning. 

“Hardly.” Faye flipped channels until she came to the channel that had replaced Big Shot. While she missed Punch and Judy’s antics, the new channel was a lot more straightforward, simply scrolling the current bounty list at intervals, along with pictures, names, and current whereabouts of the criminals on the list. 

“We need a bounty,” she declared. 

Spike sat back, flipping his deck of cards between his fingers again. “We?” 

“Yeah. You and me, cowboy. That is, if you’re up to it. After all, somebody’s starting to look like a freaking raccoon around here and it’s not --” 

“Ok, ok, I get it! And I do not look like a raccoon!” Spike interrupted. 

Faye smirked. 

Spike threw his cards on the table, scattering them to a heavy sigh from Ein as a couple of cards bounced off the corgi's nose. “You wanna hunt, Romany? Fine, let’s hunt.”

Chapter Text

“Faye, are you sure this isn’t just another excuse to take me to a bar?” Spike tilted his head back and stared up at the neon sign flashing over the warehouse-turned-bar. He didn’t recognize the place from his tenure on Tharsis but that didn’t mean much. It wasn’t the type of place he frequented. It was called The Muse and featured a neon sign of a woman in a tight evening dress, singing into a microphone over the door. The flashing lights made it look like she raised and lowered the microphone to the beat of the music pouring out of the building.

Beside him, Faye sighed. “I’m sure, Cowboy. You read the listing too.” 

“Yeah. Unfortunately.” Spike scowled and hunched his shoulders, the collar of his shirt sticking up around his ears. According to the listing, BlackJack, as their current bounty called himself, frequented karaoke bars and was last seen in the vicinity of this one. Everything about this bounty was lame -- just an ex-gang member trying to make it big on his own who couldn’t even come up with an original alias. Spike rolled his eyes. 

Another small fry. 

It was high time he should take on a bigger bounty. But Faye and Jet consistently handed him little stuff, easy stuff. Stuff where they could almost guarantee no one would get hurt. 

It was starting to get on his nerves. 

“Oh, c’mon, it can’t be that bad.” Faye reached up and turned down his collar, smoothing it over his jacket. 

He glanced down at her with a questioning look, but she only gave him a satisfied nod in return. 

“We can at least have a little fun while we’re here.” She led the way, sashaying through the front door. 

Spike grumbled under his breath, flipped his collar back up, and followed. 

Faye took him to a table in the back corner, not too obvious, with a good view of the door and the main bar. The table had a rounded booth that faced diagonally toward the stage at the center of the room where some hotshot in too-tight pants fancied himself a crooner. Spike scoffed and rolled his eyes as a waitress walked up and asked for their order. 

Faye ordered a couple of martinis before Spike got a word in edgewise. It wasn’t his drink of choice, but whatever. He put his elbows on the table and rested his chin on his hand. 

“Geez, Spike, you could at least pretend you’re having fun.” Faye poked him in the side. 

He flinched. She’d hit his scar, sending a twinge of pain along the ridged skin. Faye didn’t seem to notice, eyes scanning the bar again. Spike bit his tongue on a retort. It’s not like she’d done it on purpose, right?

He sighed. 

Faye glanced over. “I thought you wanted to hunt, cowboy? Changing your mind now?” 

He rolled his eyes. 

“Rather sleep instead?” she teased. 

Spike grumbled. “Heh. Sleep. Because you know that's something I've been doing lately.”

Faye opened her mouth to reply, her brow creased, but Spike cut her off before she could express concern or annoyance or whatever that was riding behind her gaze.

“Look, it’s just not my kind of place, ok? I’m only here for the bountyhead.” 

Faye’s expression changed to obvious annoyance. She frowned, lips pulling down into a pout. “C’mon, Spike, it’s not like it’s my fault this is his hangout. I certainly didn’t drag your ass here for the atmosphere.” 

Spike snorted. 

Faye leaned forward, lowering her voice. “But if you don’t lighten up, our bountyhead’s gonna spot your scowl and hightail it out of here before we get a chance on him. You look like murder in a suit.” 

Spike rolled his eyes. “Do not.” 

“You know what I mean.” 

Spike carefully neutralized his expression. “Better?” 

“Well, now you look like you’ve got no personality, but I guess that’ll do.” 

“Look, Faye, you can’t have it both ways. You get bored or murder, so pick one.”

Faye huffed, but there was a spark of laughter in her eyes. “Fine. Bored will do, I guess.” 

Just then the waitress returned with their drinks. Spike tried to put on a smile, he really did, but the waitress’ hesitant expression told him it didn’t work. Still, at least she didn’t run away screaming when he asked her for a whiskey highball. She did nod vigorously and back away with a little more speed than strictly necessary. 

Faye leaned over. “Told you you look like murder.” 

“She’s not our target!” Spike protested. 

Faye gave him a knowing look as she sipped from her martini. “Also, you could've told me you wanted something different. Not wasted a drink.” 

“You could’ve asked.” 

Faye rolled her eyes. 

“Besides,” Spike continued. “You’ll drink ‘em both.” 

Faye didn’t argue and the waitress returned with Spike’s drink, hastily setting it down and hurrying off to another table. 

Faye eyed her meaningfully. 

Spike stuck his tongue out and then took a sip of his drink. 

When Faye turned back to him, she had a different look in her eye, curious, her face lit in shades of blue and purple from the neon lights over their table. Her hair shimmered a deeper midnight, eyes sparkling in the lights off the stage. “So what does a guy like you do for fun, anyway?” 

“What do you mean a guy like me?” 

Faye gestured at him with a half-smirk.

Spike rolled his eyes and considered the upbeat music and hipster crowd for a minute. He could feel Faye’s eyes on him. He looked back at her, eyes narrowed, suspicious. There was an ulterior motive here. After all, this was Faye Valentine. She never did anything without an ulterior motive. She’d been trying her best to drag him to everything from bars to movies lately. Was she fishing for a place he’d actually go willingly? He considered lying to her, but then decided if this was another attempt at a date, he might as well tip her off to taking him someplace he’d actually like. 

“Jazz,” he finally said. 

“So I was right!” She accused. 

“What?” 

“A couple weeks ago, when I asked you to a jazz club and you didn’t go.” 

“I was tired.” 

“Mhmm-hmm.” Faye hummed and took a drink, momentarily hiding her eyes with the rim of her glass. “I think you didn’t go 'cause you didn’t want to admit you’d actually have fun.”

“Does this look like a face that has fun to you?”

“I think it did...once.”

Faye’s answer caught Spike completely off-guard. Did that mean she’d thought he’d only had fun once? Or that he used to look like he had fun, but didn’t anymore? He felt something irrationally hot and angry stir in his chest. 

“I’ll have you know--” he began, but he was cut off by Faye’s finger on his lips. Spike shut up out of sheer surprise. 

“Don’t defend yourself. I said what I said and I’m not offering you an explanation. Sort it out, Cowboy. You’re smart.” 

He glowered at her. 

She smiled and took another sip of her martini, but he didn’t say anything when she took her finger away. 

“Good boy,” she purred.

He reached over as if to put an arm around her shoulders, but he yanked a strand of her hair instead. 

“Hey!” Faye yelped. Spike leaned in close, intense, invading her space in a purposeful, domineering way. He hemmed her into the corner of the booth, one arm on the table and one on the back of the booth by her head. 

Faye only cowered slightly, more defiance than concern in her eyes. “What are you doing, Cowboy?”

“Reminding you that I’m dangerous, Romany. You might think you’re having fun, but don’t forget, you’re poking a sleeping bear.” 

“You mean sleepless bear?” 

Spike tilted his head so that his mouth was right by her ear. “You know that only makes the bear more irrational, don’t you?” 

Faye straightened up beneath him, shoving him back, hands on his shoulders. “Don’t try that enforcer act with me, Spike.” Her words were cold, clipped, with none of the good humor from earlier. 

He flinched. 

“We both know it’s not going to work,” she continued. “That’s not who you are.” 

She met his eye, daring him to contradict her, to keep going, to do something irrational. He’d be lying if he said there wasn’t a part of him that wanted to -- an urge to scare Faye witless, to see her melt in his hands. The rest of him balked at the idea. What was he thinking? This was Faye! And he was done with that life. Done twisting people through fear, done being feared. 

He couldn’t do that to Faye. Because it would be so damn easy. He knew which buttons to push, what words to say. He could have Faye in a puddle on the floor in a heartbeat. He felt his mouth go dry at the realization. 

In the past, he'd tortured people with fear, guilt, and regret and barely thought twice about it. People trusted him because he had an easy smile, warm eyes, boyish good looks. Vicious had been the cold and distant one, but Spike was the one they sent when they wanted to charm the victim into their hands. They played into his lies like a dog to a bone. Every time. 

Spike shivered. 

No more. 

Not to Faye. 

Not to anyone in the crew. How could he even think that? 

He closed his eyes and inhaled, sharp and hard. When he opened them, he stared straight ahead and knocked back the rest of his drink in one go. 

He felt a hand on his arm. He didn’t look. 

“You ok?” Her question was uncharacteristically gentle. 

He opened his mouth to answer, shut it. The answer was obviously no, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit out loud what he was sure Faye already knew. He gripped his empty glass between white-knuckles so hard he feared it would shatter. But it didn’t. The world started to steady a bit. The red at the edges of his vision began to fade, replaced by garish neon. The rush of blood in his veins calmed, blotted out by the terrible singing from the stage. 

Spike slumped, resting his arms on the table, his head on his forearms. 

Tentatively, Faye’s hand slipped behind him, resting gently on his back, between his shoulder blades. He stiffened. She left her hand there. 

She was bold. 

When he didn’t protest, she rubbed his back, a small motion, back and forth, across his shoulders. Something unobtrusive. Something that could be mistaken for the concern of a close friend...or a lover. 

Spike straightened up. 

Faye dropped her hand back to her side. 

He still didn’t know what to say to her. So instead, he glanced around the room, eyes scanning the crowd. He told himself he was looking for their bounty, but he knew that was just an excuse to get away from those bright emerald eyes. Bright eyes, like the bright neon. It was too bright here. Too loud. Spike found himself suddenly wishing for the couch back on the ship. Why the hell had he agreed to come out and take a bounty with Faye anyway? 

But...hadn’t he just been wishing for something bigger? Something more...dangerous? 

Spike groaned and rubbed his temples, where he could feel a pounding headache coming on. 

“Hey, if you--” Faye began. 

“No.” 

He heard her exhale. 

“You sure?” 

“Yes.” 

She tapped her nails across the table. “Anything that would help?” 

“Yeah. Shut that guy on stage up. And get me another drink.” 

For a moment, Faye looked like she might argue, but then she half-smiled. "I got you." She swung out of the booth with practiced ease. Spike found his eyes following her as she wandered toward the stage, stopping to snag their waitress on the way. She whispered something in the waitress’ ear and pointed back at Spike. 

Spike tried to look as relaxed as humanly possible. It had been his veneer for so long…why was it so hard tonight? 

The waitress nodded and walked away, so he must’ve succeeded in at least not looking like murder. He pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of his pocket and lit up. The familiar sensation of smoke in his lungs calmed him, brought him back from the swirling headache of memory and desire that threatened to overwhelm him. 

What was wrong with him? He’d never been this jumpy before. And never about Faye Valentine. Hell, even Julia hadn’t made him jumpy. No, the exact opposite. Julia had been calming, cool, like a river. When he was hyped up, her touch always brought him back down, grounded him. Her words re-tuned him with reality, kept him from drifting too far in a puddle of blood, from drowning. 

Hadn’t Faye just done the same thing? 

Spike shook his head. 

Far from feeling calmed, though, there was something buzzing through him. A nearly adrenaline rush -- something he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

He wasn’t sure he liked it. 

And yet...it wasn’t a bad feeling. 

The waitress came back with his drink and he nursed it slowly, eyes roving the room again. Might as well pretend they were still here for a bounty. But he didn’t see anyone who fit the description of a shifty man with black hair and a pair of aces tattooed on the backs of his hands. Maybe this whole night was a bust. 

“Hey, Cowboy.” 

Spike blinked as he heard Faye’s voice coming across the microphone from the stage. He looked up over the rim of his glass, cigarette dangling forgotten from his fingers. 

She was standing on stage with the mic in her hand, giving him a come-and-get-me grin. 

He rolled his eyes. 

She winked. “Pay attention, lunkhead.” 

A few people gathered at the stage looked back over their shoulders at Spike. He was suddenly glad that Faye had picked a booth mostly hidden in shadow. There were a few sniggers. He told himself he didn’t care.

Then the music started, a catchy, up-beat tune that sounded vaguely familiar. It was old. From Earth, for sure. Faye tapped her heel in time to the music. She took a deep breath and started to sing. 

Well you're the real tough cookie

With the long history

Of breaking little hearts like the one in me

That's ok, lets see how you do it

Put up your dukes, l et's get down to it

Hit me with your best shot

Why don't you hit me wi th your best shot

Hit me with your best shot

Fire away

Spike raised his eyebrows, feeling that electric jolt run through him again. She wasn’t seriously singing this to him, was she? No way. 

Faye was really into her performance now, strutting across the stage and engaging with the audience as she sang. 

You come on with a "come on"

You don't fight fair

But that's OK, see if I care

Knock me down, it's all in vain

I'll get right back on my feet again

Hit me with your best shot

Why don't you hit me w ith your best shot

Hit me with your best shot

Fire Away

Faye pointed a finger gun at a fellow near the front of the stage and pulled the trigger. Somebody cat-called her. She pointed the gun at them next. Whatever else she was doing, Spike had to admit that she was a decent singer. She was certainly better than the first guy. The audience seemed to like her more too, but maybe that was just because she had cleavage. 

Spike took another sip of his drink and tried to ignore her antics as Faye swung back toward him and started the next verse.

Well you're the real tough cookie with a long history

Of breaking little hearts like the one in me

Before I put another notch in my lipstick case

You better make sure you put me in my place 

Hit me with your best shot

Come on, hit me with your best shot

Hit me with your best shot

Fire Away

But he couldn’t ignore her when she looked straight at him for the last chorus. Faye’s green eyes sparkled in the onstage lights and her mouth was quirked up in a challenge as she sang. 

The audience was riled up now, cheering and singing along. And staring -- at him. Whether Faye meant it or not, her eye contact and calling him out had made him a target. There was laughter and more catcalling. 

“C’mon, Cowboy, shoot!” Somebody yelled. 

There were cheers of “Yeah!” and “Do it!” 

Onstage, Faye smirked as she belted out the last bit of the song. 

Hit me with your best shot

Why don't you hit me with your best shot

Hit me with your best shot

Fire Away

When she finished, she stood onstage among enthusiastic applause from the crowd. Almost without thinking about it, Spike raised his hand, thumb and finger forming a gun. He sighted down his finger, aiming for Faye’s heart. Somebody wolf whistled. He smirked. 

There was an expression on Faye's face he couldn’t name. 

He tilted his hand. 

That’s when a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. Spike glanced over at the bar and caught sight of a man in a dark red shirt sliding off his bar stool. The man slid something into his pocket, drawing Spike’s attention to his hand. Double aces. 

Spike looked back at Faye and redirected his finger gun at the man. He mouthed bounty. Then he vaulted out of the booth before he could register the look of disappointment on Faye’s face. 

He heard shouts from the audience behind him, but his focus was entirely on their target. BlackJack walked toward the door. 

“Hey, loser!” Somebody grabbed Spike’s sleeve. 

Spike whirled on a fresh-faced young man with spiky hair and chains on his pants. “Let go of me!” 

“You can’t run out on her like that!” 

“The hell I can. Get off!” Spike jerked his sleeve back and whirled back to BlackJack, who’d just witnessed the altercation. He met Spike’s eye with a knowing look and darted toward the door. 

“Shit! Stop that guy!” Spike yelled, reaching into his jacket for his gun. 

Onstage, Faye dropped the mic and vaulted to the floor. But she found herself entangled in enthusiastic fans who wanted to congratulate her on her performance or commiserate that her cowboy didn’t respond like he should’ve. Her protests that they move fell on deaf ears and Faye had to resort to physically shoving people out of the way. 

A burly-looking type at the door, who might’ve doubled as a bouncer, heard Spike’s shout and grabbed BlackJack as he tried to leave. He caught the edge of the bountyhead’s jacket and spun him around just as Spike ran up. 

BlackJack used the momentum to lend strength to a solid right hook he swung at Spike’s jaw. 

Taken by surprise, Spike took the hit and staggered back, eyes watering. He remembered at the last second to roll with the punch, but it still left him reeling. Long enough for BlackJack to slip his jacket and disappear out the door. 

“Damn it!” Spike growled and pelted after him. 

He barely registered Faye yelling after him, “Spike, wait!”

Chapter Text

Spike stumbled into the street after BlackJack, cursing the patrons getting in his way and a sudden wave of dizziness that had him taking two steps sideways. He shook his head. He hadn’t had that much to drink. What the hell? 

You have to sleep sometime, Spike. 

Surely, he wasn’t that sleep deprived. Besides, he’d run on less sleep before. And his target was getting away. Spike grit his teeth and lengthened his stride just in time to see BlackJack disappear around a corner about ten feet ahead. He bounded to the end of the corner and sighted the man taking another side street. Spike wasn’t worried. He had longer legs. And a gun. As long as BlackJack had no tricks up his sleeves (and Spike didn’t expect him to) this would be an easy catch. He glanced over his shoulder to see if Faye was following, but it looked like she hadn’t made it out of the bar yet. 

She’d catch up. 

He turned the corner and came up short when a knife swung out of the darkness at his face. 

Spike dipped, swaying backwards to narrowly avoid the flashing blade, eyes nearly crossed as it swiped past his nose. 

He caught a glimpse of double aces on a scarred hand and then he over-balanced, tumbling back to sit down hard on the pavement. 

He growled, but he kept his grip on his gun. 

Instead of fighting though, BlackJack turned and ran. 

Spike got to his feet -- what the hell was wrong with him? -- and pounded down the street again. So, his target was more interested in escape than a serious altercation. That could mean a couple of things. Either he was a coward or he wasn’t as good with that blade as he wanted Spike to believe. 

Spike smiled. This was going to be easy. He clattered down a few more alleys and side streets, gaining on BlackJack again. 

“Hey you!” he shouted as they rounded a corner. “Stop!” 

BlackJack cast a glance over his shoulder, eyes widening as he realized how close Spike was. He didn’t answer, just put on a burst of speed and slipped a little further ahead. 

Spike glanced around. He knew where they were. There was an alley coming up on the right that looped around and would bring him out on the street ahead of BlackJack if he timed it right. He pretended to fall back and whipped into the side street, a grin breaking his features as the familiar rush of the chase took over.

He scrambled down the alley, hooking around the tight curve. Light at the end of the alley showed him the street. And no sign of BlackJack. But if Spike was right, he should show up in just a few seconds. 

Spike’s long stride carried him to the end of the alley. 

And -- 

WHAM!

Spike grunted as a wooden board swung out of nowhere and hit him broadside, catching his ribcage and slamming him into the alley wall. His gun went clattering away on the street. 

Spike staggered back, a hand to his side -- luckily the opposite side of his scar -- trying to catch his breath. 

Between gasps, he saw someone loom up at the end of the alley. The shadow tossed aside a board and pulled a blade.

“BlackJack,” Spike hissed. 

BlackJack’s answering grin was predatory. “You thought I was scared, didn’t you?” He took a few steps closer. 

Spike glanced back at his gun. It was only a few feet away and BlackJack didn’t seem to be armed with more than a knife. 

Spike huffed. “Well, I’m certainly not scared of you, if that’s what you think.” 

BlackJack laughed. “They told me you didn’t scare easy, Dragon.” 

Spike stiffened. “What?” 

“Oh, come on.” BlackJack’s hand flashed between them, blade appearing again. “You didn’t think you could just waltz back on your home turf without causing a ruckus, did you?” 

Spike edged back a step or two. “Look, punk, the Dragon’s dead.” 

“Maybe. But you aren’t. You know how much money’s on your head?” 

Spike shrugged, although he felt a tingle slither down his spine. Money from who? Dragon remnants? Other syndicates? 

He backed up another step. “Shame you can’t earn any of it from an ISSP jail cell.” 

BlackJack laughed. “What makes you think you’ll turn me in?” 

Spike rolled his eyes. “What makes you think I won’t?” Then he lunged. 

But BlackJack was faster than Spike thought. He threw himself after Spike, swinging wildly with his knife. While there was no finesse in the move, it forced Spike further from his gun as he dodged the sharp blade. It whistled through the air between them as Spike twisted away. 

BlackJack laughed. “Not as easy as you thought I was, huh, Cowboy?” 

Spike didn’t grace him with a reply. Instead, his eyes scanned the alley walls, gauging distances and angles. 

BlackJack lunged again. Spike backed up. His foot hit the edge of a pile of garbage he’d noticed earlier. It was stacked around a full dumpster, disgorging its contents into the alley. 

BlackJack swung. 

Spike jumped. He pushed off the dumpster and took a running step off the alley wall, propelling himself up and over BlackJack. He landed two steps behind the bounty -- and right over his gun. Spike knelt and snatched it up. 

He stood and raised his arm. 

BlackJack spun, bringing his own arm up, knife raised. 

“Hey!” A shout from the end of the alley made both Spike and BlackJack pause. 

Spike knew that voice! 

BlackJack released his knife. 

Faye shouted. 

Spike felt pain explode in his side and he staggered back. 

A gun went off. 

It wasn’t his, was it?

BlackJack clutched at his shoulder, a darker red stain spreading across his crimson shirt, then he spun on his heel and ran. Another shot skittered across the pavement behind his heels and then he was gone around the corner. 

“Damn it,” Spike gasped, hand to his side. His back hit the alley wall and he slowly slid down to the street.

Faye stood at the end of the alley with both hands on her smoking gun, heart in her throat as Spike staggered back and crumpled. She ran up, feet pounding the pavement in rhythm to her heart. 

“Spike! Spike!” 

His eyes were closed, his face a tight rictus of pain. He had a hand clutched to his side and there was red blood all over his coat and his fingers. His gun lay on the ground beside him. Faye tossed hers down and knelt in front of him. 

“Spike!” Her hands were on his shoulders, shaking him. Why didn’t he open his eyes? “Spike!” 

“Faye!” he gasped. His eyes flew open. “Stop!” 

She froze. 

“God, that hurts, you idiot.” 

“Sorry!” she squeaked. 

Then he scowled. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“What do you mean ‘what am I doing’?” 

“Why aren’t you chasing…” he sucked a breath through his teeth. “The bounty?” 

Faye’s expression darkened. “Why am I not--? Ugh! Maybe because you just got freaking stabbed? Because you’re bleeding out?” 

“I’m not bleeding out.” 

“That’s a lot of blood, Spike.” 

“Psh.” 

“Have you even looked at yourself?!” 

“Faye. Hush. I can feel it.” 

Faye raised a hand. “Don’t tell me to hush!” Like she was some child, some little girl. 

Spike moved faster than she thought he should be able to, grabbing her wrist in bloody fingers, despite his wince. They froze, staring at each other. Faye felt something hot sting her eyes and blinked furiously. She was not going to cry in front of Spike. Not now. 

“He didn’t stab me,” Spike said, his tone softer than she’d been expecting.  

“What?” Faye blinked. 

“He didn’t stab me.” 

Faye opened her mouth to protest, but Spike simply moved his hand away from his side. “No knife.”

Faye felt something in her chest loosen, just a little. Now that Spike mentioned it, she seemed to remember the clatter of the blade on the street. Then anger welled up beside her fear, swirling in her chest in a dangerous mix. “Then what’s all the blood for, Cowboy?” she snapped. “Dramatic effect?” 

Spike actually laughed, although it ended in a grimace. “I didn’t say he didn’t hit me. He just...didn’t make it stick.” 

Faye rolled her eyes and pulled her wrist out of his grip. “Let me take a look.” 

“No, it’s fine. Just call Jet.” 

“Just call Jet? He could take half an hour or more to get here, Spike!” Faye pulled her phone out of her pocket and thrust it into Spike’s hand. “You call him. I’m going to make sure you don’t bleed to death before he gets here.” 

“You’re letting the bounty get away, you know,” Spike groused. But he flipped through Faye’s contacts until he found Jet. 

“Yeah, and you’re letting your blood get away. So screw the bounty.” Faye pulled Spike’s jacket open, a little too roughly. 

“Faye.” He grit his teeth. 

She didn’t deign to give him an answer, but started on the buttons on his shirt. He sighed and hit dial. Faye heard the phone ring a few times before Jet picked up. 

“What is it now, Faye?” There were sounds of something sizzling on the other side and the clatter of a pot. Sounded like Jet was in the kitchen. 

“Hey, Jet, it’s me,” Spike said. He did a pretty good job of hiding the pain in his voice. 

“Spike?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Where’s Faye?”  

“She’s here. We may, uh, need extraction.” 

“Extraction?” Jet sounded incredulous. “Where are you guys?” 

“Corner of Sixth and Cashiers.” Spike grunted as Faye jostled him.

“Is everything ok?” Jet asked. 

“Just get down here, Jet!” Faye interrupted. “The lunkhead got himself stabbed and I need your help.” 

“Stabbed?” Jet exclaimed. 

“She’s exaggerating--” 

“ETA, Jet!” Faye snapped. 

“Twenty minutes,” Jet said. The line went dead. 

Spike sighed and let his hand drop to his side. “Happy now, Faye?” 

Faye looked up and met his eye. He expected her to be happy about this? “No.” 

He dropped his head against the wall behind him. Faye pulled his shirt open and winced herself. Although there was no knife, the wound was nasty enough -- a deep gash running lengthwise across the raised scar on Spike’s side, splitting the skin a good three inches on either side of it. There was a lot of blood. Faye wasn’t sure if it qualified as a dangerous quantity of blood, but it looked bad nonetheless. Not to mention the suspicious bruising on Spike’s other side. 

“What happened here?” she ran a finger along the bruises. 

“Nothing.” 

“Liar.” 

He tried a smile, but it was weak. 

She looked back at the gash. She’d need to stop the bleeding somehow. She gently probed Spike’s side. He hissed.  

“This looks bad, Spike.” 

“It’s fine. We’ve just got to put pressure on it.” 

“With what?” 

“I dunno. Piece of cloth. Your hand.” 

“Gross.” 

The edge of his lips quirked up. Faye huffed and looked around, eyes scanning the street for something to stem the bleeding. But there wasn’t anything nearby. And besides, she wasn’t about to pull something dirty off the street to staunch the wound. Infection was a distinct possibility.

She sighed as she realized she really only had one option. “Spike, you so owe me for this,” she growled as she pulled her sweater off and wadded it up.

He watched her with a curious expression, something between incredulity and a strange sense of relief?

Faye pressed her sweater against the wound. 

Spike yelped. “Not that much pressure, Faye!” 

“Sorry!” She fumbled with the sweater, hand shaking more than she wanted it to now that the adrenaline was starting to wear off. Spike finally put his hand over hers and guided her to the right spot, pressing gently until she understood how much pressure to put on the wound. 

“Sorry,” she said again, not sure what else to say. “Is this ok? Do I need to--” 

He looked up at her and Faye’s words trailed off, caught in her throat. 

“I’m not going to die, Faye. I’ll be alright. Just hurts, is all.” 

Faye had to work to keep her voice steady when she answered. “Yeah. Sure. Ok.” 

He looked down, as if realizing that his hand was still over hers. But he didn’t take it away. “You’re shaking,” he said. 

“No.” She denied it, but it was silly. She was shaking like a leaf and they could both see it. 

“You’re...afraid.” His voice was oddly choked.  

“Am not.” 

“For me?” 

She met those mis-matched eyes, glazed with pain, but still sharp, aware, and she lost her breath. Because she was absolutely, undeniably terrified for him and mesmerized by her fingers against his hot skin and guiltily pleased that his shirt was unbuttoned and...and…

She didn’t even realize that the tears slipped out until he reached up with his free hand and cupped her face, wiping a tear away with his thumb. 

“Faye.” His voice was gruff, with an odd tone in it that she’d never heard before. “Stop it.” 

She took a shaky breath. “Stop what?” 

“Stop...crying. Stop. I’m fine. Stop worrying.” 

A spike of anger crowded out her other emotions. Was this supposed to comfort her? Supposed to make her feel better? This rebuke, this petty request to “just stop.” Because it didn’t. Not in the slightest. 

“Why?” she demanded. “Because you don’t want someone to care about you again?” 

Spike stiffened. 

She knocked his hand away from her face. He winced. She wasn’t sure if it was because she’d inadvertently put too much pressure on his side or because she refused his comfort. She narrowed her eyes. “You want me to stop worrying because you don’t want anyone to get close again. You think if you can just keep us all on the level of associate, then maybe you won’t ever feel the same pain you did when Julia died.” 

Spike’s eyes flitted away from her face. 

She reached out and grabbed his chin, forcing him to turn his head toward her, to look back at her. He did, surprisingly. 

Under normal circumstances, she’d never be able to make him do this. There was a tiny part of her that regretted it (notch thirteen, Faye) but it wasn’t enough to stop the words from bursting forth. She’d been holding this in for far too long. Spike had been avoiding the subject for far too long, and she wasn’t going to let him avoid it any longer, knife-wound or not. He said he was fine, so she was going to act like he was and he was going to sit here and give her straight answers while they waited on Jet, dammit. 

“You listen to me, Spike Spiegel, and you listen good.” 

“Faye,” he gasped. 

She relaxed her hold a little. 

He didn’t pull away. 

“You’re going to accept the fact that your crew cares about you, ok? A whole damn lot. This isn’t just a mutual partnership anymore, Cowboy. This is family. We’ve been through hell and back with you, so there’s no way in the galaxy that you get to pretend that we all just accidentally inhabit the same space anymore. No more of this tough guy act, Spike! I mean it. We all have feelings. You’re not a brick wall. So, yeah, I worry about you! Because after the Tower, you’ve been as insubstantial as smoke in the wind. One good breeze comes along and poof. And I am sure as hell not watching you disappear again. Not on my watch. You understand, lunkhead? Because I...care about you.” She only stumbled over the word a little. Tears stung her vision. “We all do.” 

He didn’t say anything for a long time. She let go of his face. His eyes started that habitual slide over her shoulder, down and away, focusing on anything but her. Then he stopped himself, dragged his gaze back with effort. 

“Damn it, Faye.” He exhaled, seeming to shrink under her hands. He closed his eyes. 

“Damn it? Damn it? That’s what you come up with?” she shrieked. She tried, very, very hard not to jostle him too much. She wanted to stomp her foot, shake her fist, maybe even punch him right in the mouth. Anything but sit here in front of him, leg cramping up on the cold pavement, holding her bloody sweater against his side. “I feed you my heart and all you can say is damn it ?” 

“Faye--” 

“You are heartless, you know that?” 

He winced again. Because of her words? Good. Let him wince. She hoped it stung. As much as the awful, bloody gash in his side.

“If I wasn’t keeping you alive right now, I’d walk off without a second thought and never look back,” she growled. 

“I can hold it myself,” he mumbled. 

“The hell you can!” she retorted. 

He smiled, but the sound that he made was something infinitely more choked than a laugh. 

Just then, they heard the screech of tires and a car roared to a stop at the end of the alley. Headlights lit the scene and Faye blinked in the sudden light. A door slammed and someone got out of the car. 

“That’ll be Jet,” Faye said, words hollow. Because if it was Jet, then they weren’t going to continue this conversation. He would swoop in and bandage Spike and Spike would stop talking and they’d go back to the Bebop, back to pretending everything was ok and that there weren’t unanswered questions between them. 

“Faye,” Spike’s voice was very quiet, mouth barely moving. 

She whirled back toward him. 

“For what it’s worth…” he trailed off with a grimace, then he opened his eyes and met hers. “Thank you.” 

She wasn’t even really sure he said it. And then Jet was there and he was all business and Spike was protesting that he “really was fine dammit!” Jet pulled out the first aid kit and got some disinfectant and an impromptu bandage on the wound, before declaring Spike would need stitches. Faye numbly followed Jet’s instructions as they bundled Spike into the car. She collected his Jericho and her Glock and disappeared as soon as they got back to the Bebop, fading into the background, as was usual these days.

But Spike’s words still rang in her head later that night, hours after the chase, after the blood, after the anger. 

Hours after Jet stitched him up and Spike was snoring on the couch in his typical position, one hand flung across his bandaged torso, the other hanging off the couch, a thin line of drool trickling from the corner of his mouth. Faye didn’t know if Jet had drugged him or if Spike’s exhaustion caught up to him, but at least he was sleeping. Finally.

Standing halfway up the stairs so that she could just see him over the top stair, Faye folded her arms across her stomach and sighed. Then she turned and headed downstairs to the warm bath she had waiting. 

But even the bath didn’t wash away his words. 

Thank you.

Chapter Text

Spike turned and struck out with his right palm, left foot shifting back to counterbalance his weight, feeling his body flow smoothly with the movement until -- 

“Ahh!” He gasped as a thrill of pain shot through his side. 

Spike instinctively clasped a hand to his still-healing knife wound. He grit his teeth. God, he hated getting knifed. Why did everybody want to stick him with something pointy these days? Spike threw his head back and gulped the pain down, then forced himself to straighten up, throw his shoulders back, take his hand off his side. 

His routine was over for now, though. 

Spike walked over to the deck railing and leaned against it, steadying his breathing. He hated leaving a routine unfinished. It always left him feeling stiff and awkward, only half-warmed up, half-ready. 

But he didn’t have much of a choice, did he? Back in the day, alone, he would’ve simply pushed through it, forced himself to finish the routine no matter the pain. Because back in the day, showing weakness hadn’t been an option. But now, with Jet and Faye around, he didn’t dare. Or else they’d both hover over him like worried mother hens and baby him and insist that he rest or maybe even take something for the pain. 

Especially since this wound was so reminiscent of another. One he hadn’t been up and walking from for too long. Spike shook his head before his memories trailed too far. He wasn’t...he didn’t want to go down that road. Not here. Not now. Not yet. 

He sighed and looked out at the city instead. There was a part of him, a part he sure as hell wasn't about to admit existed, that was glad he didn’t have to struggle alone anymore. That enjoyed being able to take time to recover, to rest. That liked having crew mates around to worry about him. 

Spike gave a half-laugh and ran his fingers through his hair.

“What’s so funny, Spike-person?” 

Spike jumped, cursing himself for it. His side twinged again and he put a hand back to the wound as he glared down at Ed. She’d slipped up beside him, somehow unnoticed, like a red-headed shadow. If shadows had goggles and gangly limbs and ever-present corgis, that is. Ein stood beside her, butt wagging enthusiastically, tongue lolling. 

I must be losing my touch if the kid and the dog can sneak up on me. “Edward.” Her name came out at once less stern and more breathy than he intended. 

Ed tilted her head, blinking up at him.  “Yes, it’s Edward. Was Spike-person expecting someone else?” Her face fell fractionally, that smile slipping for a second before she pasted it back on, bright and exuberant.  

Spike paused, then shook his head. “No. Just wasn’t expecting anybody, that’s all.” 

Ed gave him a sly look. “Spike-person was distracted.” 

He chuckled. “You could say that.” Distracted. To the point that he’d let his guard down. A part of him felt guilty about it. And another part felt relieved that he was only getting caught off-guard by a kid and not a gun to his head. 

Ed’s eyes followed the bend of his arm down to his hand and side. “Spike-person hurts?” She reached out, as if to touch him, but she stopped just shy of brushing her fingers against his shirt. 

“A little,” Spike admitted.  

Ed put her hands on her hips and stared up at Spike, meeting his gaze directly. “Is Spike-person telling the not truth?” 

“What? No!”  

Ed tapped her foot. 

Spike tried very hard not to laugh at how much she looked like an angry Faye. “I’m not lying, Ed. I’m ok. I just need a minute.” 

“Does Spike-person need a doctor?” 

“No.” 

“Jet?”

“No, Ed.”

“Faye-Faye?” 

Ein barked. 

“Definitely not.” Spike shook his head adamantly. “You and Ein are fine.” 

Ed cheered. “Ed can play doctor!” 

“No!” Spike held his hands up, trying to ignore the flutter of panic at the idea of Ed doctoring anything. “I don’t need a doctor. Just plain Edward will do.” 

Ed crossed her arms and pouted. Ein sat beside her and whined, staring at him with big brown puppy-eyes. 

Spike sighed. “I’m fine. Er...will be. Promise. Besides, there’s nothing anybody can do for me at the moment. Wounds like this hurt for a while. It’s nothing I haven’t felt before.” 

Ed nodded solemnly, though her lower lip still stuck out a little. Ein leaned against her leg. 

Spike shook his head. He shouldn’t be telling Ed this kind of stuff. She was just a kid! Spike felt a sudden, unexpected desire to protect Ed from the horrors he’d faced as a boy. From danger and darkness. The heat of blood and the smell of gunsmoke. From the adrenaline race of the kill, the exhilarating thrill of cheating death. She shouldn’t ever have to know any of it. Spike turned away and leaned against the ship’s rail again, fumbling in his pockets for a cigarette and lighter. He turned his head to light the cigarette so he wouldn’t have to meet those wide amber eyes staring a hole into his back. 

Spike inhaled and put the lighter back in his pocket, feeling the familiar burn of smoke in his lungs. He glanced down at Ed as she came to stand beside him. She had one hand on the ship’s rail and the other was clutching something pink half-way behind her back. 

“Ed, what’s that?” Spike pointed at her hand. 

Ed looked down, as if just now remembering she was holding something. “Oh! That’s Ed’s latest super-sneaky project! Ed came to show Spike-person. Lookie lookie!” Ed proudly pulled the object out from behind her back and spread out a somewhat crumpled chain of pink paper hearts. They were all different sizes and most of them were lop-sided, drawn and cut out by Ed no doubt. She’d attached them to each other with an overabundance of scotch tape. “Does Spike-person like them?” 

“Uh, sure. They’re...pretty. But Valentine’s Day isn’t for like another six months, Ed.” 

“These aren’t for Valentine’s Day, silly! Ed made love decorations.” 

“Love decorations? What’s that?” Spike asked cautiously. 

“For the ship!” Ed crowed, pumping a fist in the air. “For Bebop Bebop that Ed loves sooooooo much!” 

Spike shook his head and took a draw on his cigarette. “Ooooh-kaay.” 

Ed beamed up at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet, the paper chain swaying back and forth with the movement. “Ed and Jet talked about love!” 

Spike’s eyes widened. “You what now?” 

Ed dropped one end of her chain to put a finger in her mouth. “We talked abou’ love!” 

Spike was almost afraid to ask what that meant. “Why?” 

Ed pulled her finger out of her mouth. “‘Cause Ed was curious.” 

“Oh.” Spike wasn’t sure what to say to that. Why was Ed asking about love? Did she even know what that meant? What had Jet told her? For a moment, he smiled, imagining a red-faced Jet bumbling over some sappy definition of love for a hectic Edward. 

“Jet said family is love,” Ed continued. 

Spike felt his heartbeat slow, marginally. That was a relatively safe topic. “He’s right.” 

“That’s why Ed made paper hearts for Bebop Bebop! ‘Cause it’s family!” 

“The ship is family?” 

“No, lunkhead! The people on the ship. Spike-person and Faye-Faye and Jet and Ed and Ein!” Ed slowly ticked off each name on her fingers. 

Spike felt something tighten in his throat and chest. “Yeah. Yeah, we are family.” 

“Does Spike-person love Bebop-Bebop, too?” 

“Of course I do.” 

“Do you love Jet?” 

“Well, yeah.” 

“And Ed?” Ed beamed and thrust a thumb at her chest. 

“Yes.” Spike smiled at her. 

“And Ein?” 

Spike looked down at the corgi, whose butt was wiggling so hard he could barely stay seated. “Ein, too. You little mutt,” he added in an undertone. 

Ein barked, eyes sparkling.  

Ed cheered. “And Faye-Faye? Does Spike-person love Faye-Faye?” 

Spike paused, cigarette half-way to his mouth. That was a loaded question. But Ed was talking about everybody in the context of family. Right? He eyed Ed, bouncing from one foot to the other, clutching her paper hearts. He couldn’t say no, destroy her idyllic picture of a happy family on the Bebop. And he didn’t hate Faye. In fact, he found he didn’t mind having her around, most days. 

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, even that bi--” Spike cut himself off, suddenly realizing his audience.

“Even that what, Spike-person? What is Faye-Faye?” 

Spike felt his face redden. “Nothing. Even Faye. I like her too.” 

“That’s not what Spike-person was going to say!” Ed accused. “What’s ‘bi--’? That’s not a word, Ed bets!” 

Spike ground his teeth. “It was nothing, Ed.” 

“Was it a namey-name that means girlfriend?” Ed asked innocently. 

Spike burst out laughing so hard he ended up coughing and clutching his side. 

Ed patted him gently on the back until he got his breath back. 

Spike smirked. “Hell, no.” 

“Then Spike-person doesn’t have kissy-kissy love with Faye-Faye?” 

Spike blinked. “Ed, what the hell? What does that even mean?” 

“Like in Faye-Faye’s books. Or on TV.” 

“No! Definitely not that. No. I’m not in love with Faye.” 

“But, Spike-person said he loves Faye-Faye!” Ed crowed. 

“Ed, hush!” Spike hurriedly slapped a hand over her mouth, glancing around to see if anybody else was on deck. But other than Ein, it was empty. Thank God. He’d never be able to live this conversation down if Jet was around. Or worse, Faye. 

“Mmophmmpffff mfffmnpn memofff,” Ed mumbled. 

Spike knelt in front of Ed and snuffed his cigarette on the deck, flicking it overboard (to a stern look from Ein). He carefully pulled his hand off her mouth. She grinned at him, all teeth. 

Spike put his hands on Ed’s shoulders. “Look, Ed.” He sighed. How did he even explain this to the kid? How did he explain this to himself? Did he love Faye? He shook his head. Of course not. Not like...that.

Ed leaned forward, waiting on his explanation. 

“Technically, I didn’t say I loved Faye. I said I liked her. And there’s a big difference --” 

“Like, like like Faye-Faye or just like Faye-Faye?” Ed interrupted. 

“Like like...wha?” 

“Does Spike-person like like Faye-Faye or just like Faye-Faye?” 

Spike rubbed his forehead. “We’re friends, kiddo.” 

“Just friends?” 

“Yeah. Just friends.” 

“Aw.” Ed pouted again. “That’s no fun.” 

“Why’s that?” Spike raised an eyebrow. 

“‘Cause then Ed doesn’t gets to find out about kissy-kissy love!” 

“You can’t find out about...love like that anyway!” 

“Why not?” 

Spike sighed and stared up at the sky for a second, a wry smile twisting his mouth. He looked back down at Ed. “Look, there are some things in this life that you can’t find out second-hand. And that’s one of ‘em. You’ll understand when you’re older.” He ruffled her hair. 

Ed waited for a few seconds, then she beamed. “Ok, Ed’s older now!” 

Spike face-palmed. “I mean years older, Ed.” 

“Oh.” Ed flopped her paper chain around. “Years are too long! Edward will be old like Spike-person then!” 

“Hey! I am not old!” 

Ed laughed. Then she looked up at Spike almost shyly. “Will Spike-person help Ed hang the love decorations?” 

Spike ran a hand through his hair to stall for time. 

“Spike-person is the tallest.” Ed reminded him, scooting a few hopeful steps closer. 

Spike almost rolled his eyes, but he stopped himself. “Technically,” he began, but then he figured arguing the difference of an inch between him and Jet was lost on Edward. “Heh. Fine. Why not? So long as we don’t tell Faye or Jet I helped you. Deal?” 

“Deal!” Ed cheered and threw the paper hearts into the air. 

They fluttered down across Spike’s shoulder as Ein barked happily.

Chapter Text

“He’s still too stiff, Jet,” Faye said. She was standing on the bridge of the Bebop , idly watching Jet run some diagnostic scans on the ship. Occasionally, she glanced out the cockpit windows where Spike was running one of his routines out on the deck, arms and legs flowing smoothly through the ingrained motions. But not as smooth as usual. 

“What do you expect, Faye? He got stabbed. He’s going to be stiff for a while,” Jet replied absently. He was focused on the readout on the screen in front of him, grumbling at it under his breath, and had only been giving her one-word answers up to this point. 

Faye sighed. “Not like that. I mean, I get it. Knife wounds hurt. But I’m not talking about that.” 

Jet glanced up. “Then what are you talking about?” 

“I mean…emotionally.” 

“Emotionally stiff?” Jet raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah. Stunted.” Faye shrugged. “I don’t know.” 

“Since when has Spike ever been a paragon of emotion?” Jet’s mouth quirked up in a smile. 

Faye laughed. Jet was right. Spike had never exactly been good at expressing his feelings. In fact, most days he pretended he didn’t have them. But Faye thought he…she…they…had been making a little progress lately. 

She watched as Spike stumbled through his set and stopped, head down and hand to his side. She knew better than to run out there and interrupt him, though. The last time she suggested he take a rest, he snapped at her and disappeared in a huff. Spike hated healing. Hated being quiet. Hated everything about convalescing. But this time seemed particularly grating for him. 

Faye just wasn’t sure why. 

It certainly wasn’t the worst wound he’d recovered from. In fact, compared to most of his former injuries, this one was pretty tame. Despite her initial scare at the scene, Spike’s cut hadn’t been so bad and, while painful, it was healing up nicely. Jet even figured they’d be able to take out the stitches in a few days. 

So then why did this one stymie Spike so much? 

She looked back over at Jet. “Surely you’ve noticed, Jet.” 

“Noticed what?” 

“How closed up he’s been? How he’s not sleeping?” 

This time, Jet turned his whole focus on Faye. “Of course I’ve noticed.” 

Faye crossed her arms. “Ok. So spill.” 

“Faye…I don’t--” 

“I’m not asking for you to reveal his life secrets or anything. But has he at least talked to you?” 

Jet rubbed his head. “A little.” 

“And?” 

“Survivor’s guilt, mostly. I think.” 

Faye tipped her head. “Survivor’s guilt?” 

“Yeah. It’s not that uncommon. Somebody lives though something they shouldn’t and they feel a sense of remorse for surviving when most people involved didn’t.” 

“No, I know what it is.” Faye waved a hand. “But why? Spike killed the Dragon on purpose. Why would he feel guilty about surviving that?” 

Jet took a long time to answer. “I don’t know if it’s all about the Dragon.” 

Faye swallowed hard, but she got the name out without a change in tone. “Julia?” 

“Partly.” 

“Who else is there? Surely he doesn’t feel guilty about outliving Vicious! I only met the guy once and that was enough to not give me any regrets.” 

“Look, I’m not going to pretend I understand his reasoning. But…he seems to think that he didn’t deserve another chance. That he shouldn’t have been saved that night at the Tower.” 

“Why not?” Faye’s voice rose, almost a yell. She felt something undeniably angry stir in her chest. The lunkhead didn’t think he deserved to live? 

“I don’t know, Faye. That’s about as far as I got with him.” 

Faye stared at Jet for a long moment, not sure if he was telling the whole story or not, but he wasn’t acting guilty, so she figured that was the crux of the matter. If he was leaving out a few personal details, that wouldn’t change Spike’s overall feeling. 

Faye stomped a foot and rolled her eyes, glancing out the cockpit windows again. 

Spike wasn’t alone on the bridge anymore. Ed stood with him, waving something long and pink over her head. Spike looked flummoxed. 

Despite herself, Faye felt a small smile twitch her lips. Ed was the only one on the ship capable of surprising Spike with any regularity. Her sheer spontaneity was too unpredictable. Despite his carefree veneer, Spike held himself to his own personal set of disciplines and Ed was anything but. Despite Spike’s ability to roll with the punches, Ed just threw so many it was impossible to keep up. 

That, and Ed was always smiling. 

It was disarming. 

In that way only Ed and all her innocent exuberance could be. 

Faye watched, amused, as Spike seemed to get even more flustered and even covered Ed’s mouth at one point, glancing around, as if making sure they were alone. 

“What do you think they’re doing out there, Jet?” Faye asked. 

“Who?” 

“Spike and Ed.” 

“Hell if I know,” Jet said. 

“Well, she’s got him all hot and bothered.” 

“She’s probably asking him what love is.” 

“What?” Faye’s eyes widened. “Why?” 

“I dunno. You tell me. Ed asked me that the other day. Wouldn’t give it up until I answered her.” 

“What did you say?” 

Jet shot Faye a calculating glance. “We talked about family and how Bebop was family and that was love.” 

“Oh. I see.” 

“What have you been letting Edward watch on TV, Faye?” 

“What have I been letting her watch?” 

Jet raised an eyebrow. “You’re the only one who watches romances.” 

“I mean, she may have sat with me for one or two.” Faye shrugged. “But mostly Ed just eats popcorn and makes faces.” 

“Faye!” 

“They weren’t raunchy ones, Jet!” Faye’s hands were fisted by her sides. “Geez, give me some credit.” 

Jet glared at her.

“It’s not like I supervise the kid 24/7. She’s always deep-diving on the net, so don’t ask me what she’s seen there.” 

Jet’s face reddened, as if the thought just occurred to him. “She’s twelve, Faye!” 

“Yeah? Ask Spike what he watched on the internet when he was twelve. Bet you won’t like it.” 

Jet’s face went even redder. 

“Comparatively speaking, Ed’s forays are probably pretty innocent.” 

“I was going fishing and playing ball when I was twelve,” Jet muttered. 

“And I was cheerleading. But I bet you anything Spike wasn’t quite so tame.” 

Jet grimaced. “Wouldn’t know. Never really asked him.” 

“Maybe we should.” 

Jet looked surprised, mouth half-open as if he were going to answer, but he didn’t say anything. 

Instead it was Spike’s voice that answered. “Maybe we should ask him what?” 

Faye whirled to see him topping the stairs to the bridge, a beer in hand. He carried himself a little less stiffly than a moment ago and there was something resembling a smile at the corner of his mouth. Ed trailed behind him, grinning like a maniac. She bounced up and down on her toes on each step. 

Faye and Jet both stood like fish out of water. 

“Ah. I see.” Spike moved further onto the bridge. “Him is me, isn’t he?” He gave them mock-stern glares, but his gaze lacked any actual acidity. Spike leaned against the console in the center of the bridge, one leg crossed over the other. He seemed surprisingly relaxed. Faye wondered what he’d been talking about with Ed on deck. He certainly hadn’t been this relaxed the last time she looked outside. 

“Talk, talk, talk, talk!” Ed cheered as she danced her way up to the group. “ Bebop Bebop has family time! Yay!” 

Everybody stared at Ed. Spike smirked. Jet looked like he was about to face-palm. Faye smiled. Leave it to Ed to not know how to read the room. 

“You know what, Ed, that’s a great idea.” Spike broke the tableau. “How about you go finish setting up your surprise in the living room. We’ll join you in a minute.” 

“For family time?” 

Spike shrugged. “Sure.” 

“Ok! Whoopee!!” Ed flung her arms out like an airplane and zoomed around the bridge a few times before swooping down the stairs, shouting for Ein. 

“Her surprise?” Jet asked.

“You’ll see.” Spike took a sip of his beer. 

“You seem awfully aware.” 

Spike laughed. “Let’s say I was roped in.” Then he sobered. “So, what were you two chatting about up here?” 

Again, Jet and Faye shot each other glances. 

“C’mon, my ears were burning,” Spike said dryly. “I know you’re talking about me. Trying to run an intervention? Get me on a couch in front of a quack?” 

“Do what now?” Jet looked confused. 

“Psychologist,” Faye supplied. 

Spike gestured at her with his beer, tipping his head, as if to say bingo.

“But, no, that’s not what we were talking about,” Faye said. 

“Good. Because I’m fine.” Spike eyed them both, as if daring them to contradict. 

Faye sighed and stared at the ceiling. 

Jet found the console suddenly interesting. 

“What? You don’t--” 

“No.” Faye cut him off. She crossed her arms and met Spike’s gaze. “No, we don’t believe you, Spike.” 

He paused, blinking, at a loss for words. 

“And I’ll tell you why.” Faye marched up to him, hands on her hips, so that she was only a few inches away. He had to look at her or obviously avoid her. “Because of these.” She pointed a finger at his face, at the dark circles that had taken up permanent residence under his eyes. “And this.” She laid a finger along his side, tracing the line she knew his scar followed. He shivered. “And your absolute inability to talk to anybody about anything ever!” She finished hotly. “Whatever you’ve got up there in your brain is killing you, Spike. Slowly. Because you won’t let it out. I don’t care what it is. Dragons, Julia, Vicious.” She got each name out slow and pronounced, without a hitch. His eyes went wide. “You need to talk to someone about it. If it’s not us, then pick a quack. Pick a former associate. Pick Ein for heaven’s sake. But tell somebody!” 

She hardly realized that she was nearly shouting until she finished. The bridge echoed in the prevailing silence. 

From somewhere in the living room, a loud and off-key ditty drifted up to them in Ed’s voice. 

Spike’s eyes slid over the top of Faye’s head to find Jet, anchoring there like Jet was a life preserver. 

“I hate to say it, pard, but she’s right.” Jet’s voice was a low rumble. 

Faye felt a warm glow suffuse her chest, but she kept a scowl directed at Spike. 

“Jet! You’re not supposed to back her up!” Spike protested. 

“I am when she makes sense.” 

“Since when has Faye ever --” 

“Spike!” It was Jet who interrupted him this time. “I get that this isn’t exactly a fun topic for you, but you can’t hold us at arms’ length forever. We both know you’ve been through a lot and that you have a lot of secrets.” 

Spike squirmed. 

Jet continued. “We’re not going to make you spill them all, but you do need to get whatever’s sitting on your chest off.” 

Spike sighed. “Ok. I hear you.” 

Faye tilted her head, one foot tapping the deck impatiently. 

“Look, I’m not going to spill everything right now. Not to you. Not to either of you.” There was a flash of something hard in his gaze.

Jet and Faye both inhaled to speak. 

Spike held up his hands to stop them. “No offense or anything. It’s just.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t even know where I’d start.” 

“At the beginning,” Faye huffed. 

Spike snorted. “That’s a long time ago.” 

“Yeah. We know.” 

His eyes widened a little. Surprise? Relief? Faye wasn’t quite sure. His mouth twisted, lips pressed together. Something almost like a smirk, but more like a grimace. 

“I’ll think about it,” he finally said. 

“Fair enough,” Jet said before Faye could get a word in edgewise. She felt Jet’s metal hand on her shoulder and suppressed a flinch -- because damn, it was cold! She hadn’t even realized Jet had come up beside her. “Now, before we ruin each other’s good moods and Ed’s surprise, I suggest we all go to the living room. There’ll be plenty of time to talk about this later.” 

Jet met Spike and Faye’s gazes in turn. 

Spike looked relieved. 

Faye crossed her arms, but she sighed. She knew it wasn’t going to be this easy when she started. Knew Spike wouldn’t just melt into her hands and start talking. But she barely felt like she’d gotten her foot in the door! 

Still, a foot in the door was better than nothing. 

Maybe Jet was right. 

Maybe they should all get a dose of pure Edward before they frayed each other’s nerves. After all, whatever she’d done, it seemed to work on Spike. 

It would be good to have the crew smiling again. 

Even if it was a veneer.

Chapter Text

“And don’t even think about going out tonight!” Jet shouted. He thrust a bucket, a bottle of soap, and a mop into Spike’s hands. 

“It wasn’t my fault, Jet!” Spike protested. 

“Don’t lie.” 

“Oh, come on! I wasn’t the one painting my nails on the bridge.” 

“You were the one who antagonized her.” 

“Did not.” 

Jet glared at Spike. 

Spike sighed and stared at the ceiling. “I have dinner plans, Jet.” 

“Not on your allowance, you don’t.” 

Spike scowled. 

Jet gave him a look. 

“Ok, look.” Spike held up his hands, bucket and mop dangling from each. “It’s not like I don’t like your cooking, but --” 

Jet held up a hand to stop him. “You and Faye complain about it enough. I get it.” 

“Well, it is a little repetitive.” 

Jet smirked. “You try meal planning on our budget and let me know what you come up with.” 

“Psh. Planning isn’t really my thing.” 

“I know. And neither is cooking. So get upstairs and help Faye clean the navigation panel. It better be spotless by the time the food is done.” 

Spike sighed. “Jet…” 

“No excuses!” 

Spike gave him a wounded puppy look. 

Jet shook his head. “You know that doesn’t work on me, pard.” 

Spike stuck his tongue out. 

“I’ll let you know if I find any beef to go with the peppers tonight.” 

“Oh joy.” 

Jet hid his smile as he turned away and headed back toward the kitchen.

Spike topped the stairs to the bridge, bucket (now full of soapy water) and mop in tow. He paused before he made his presence known, watching Faye angrily scrubbing the navigation panel with a rag soaked in what he could only assume was nail polish remover by the heavy odor that stung his nose. He sneezed. Water sloshed out of the bucket onto his shoes. He groaned. 

Faye whipped around, brows drawn down into a glare leveled straight at Spike. “I hope you’re happy, lunkhead.” 

“Why would I be happy about this?” 

“It’s your fault.” 

“Hey! It’s not like I --” Spike began, but Faye cut him off. 

“You wasted an entire bottle of nail polish! A whole bottle! Do you know how much that cost?” 

“Uh…” 

“I’m taking it out of your next bounty!” 

Spike took a couple of angry steps forward, sloshing more water on the floor. “You are not!”

“Says who?” 

“Says me!” 

“You’re not even in control of your own money right now, so how are you going to stop me?” Faye jumped up, hands on her hips. 

Spike flushed, lips pressed together in an angry line. “That’s not fair.” 

Faye smiled, but it was entirely too spiteful. “Oops, I’m sorry. Did I hurt your feelings?” 

“Faye…” 

“And why did you bring soap? You know you can’t get nail polish off of anything with soap.” 

“Faye--” 

“What are you even doing up here anyway? I hope it’s saying sorry, because I’m not --” 

“Faye!” 

The force of his shout made her jump. She blinked, mouth miraculously shut, lips pursed. 

Spike heaved a sigh and plunked the bucket on the floor, splattering a few more drops. “If you’d just shut up and listen for five damn seconds, I’ll explain.” Spike held up a finger. “One. I’m not here to apologize. So deal with it. Two. Jet made me bring the bucket. Three. I don’t care how you clean nail polish out of anything, because I’m not the one who spilled it everywhere in the first place!” 

He was breathing heavily when he finished, staring at Faye through his upraised fingers. 

She threw her rag on the floor and stomped up to him until they were just inches apart. She jerked his hand down and stared him right in the eye. “Oh yeah, cowboy? Then you wanna tell me exactly how my nail polish did end up all over the place? Huh?” 

Spike smirked. “It’s not my fault you’re clumsy.”

“I am not clumsy! You tickled me!” 

“I did not. I poked you --” 

“Yeah! Hard!” 

“-- because you were being an ass.” 

“And I’m ticklish!” 

They broke off and stared at each other, each processing what the other just said. Spike planted the mop on the floor between them defensively, both hands on the handle, body coiled, as if he might turn it into a weapon. Wouldn’t be the first time. 

Faye glared at him, hands fisted at her sides. 

Spike couldn’t help it. She looked so angry, so flustered…so…cute? 

He felt a grin sneak up on him before he registered the change in his own emotions and he wasn’t able to stop a snort of laughter from escaping. 

Faye huffed. “What’s so funny?” 

The snort turned into a full laugh and before Spike knew it, he was doubled up, leaning on the mop, one hand on his ribcage as he devolved into peals of laughter. 

“Stop laughing and answer my question! I’m serious!” Faye snapped. But there was something odd about her tone, like she was forcing herself to be angry. 

Spike risked a glance between snickers and saw that Faye’s mouth was also twisted into something resembling a smile. Though her hands were still on her hips and she tapped one foot impatiently. 

He straightened up, wiping a sleeve across his face. “Faye. Do you see how ridiculous this is?” He gestured around at the bridge, the splatters of polish on the floor, the controls. He was pretty sure there was even some in Faye’s hair. 

“I only see how you owe me a new bottle of nail polish.” 

“Mm-hmm.” Spike watched her, a half-smile curving his lips. 

She stared back, trying to maintain her anger, but Spike could see it breaking down by the second. Finally, she couldn’t hold back her own smile and she whirled around instead and mock-stomped back over to her rag. 

“That’s not fair, you know,” she said over her shoulder. 

“What’s not fair?” Spike cocked an eyebrow. 

Faye turned back around. “Your face.” 

Spike’s jaw went slack. That wasn’t the answer he’d been expecting. “My face?” 

“You know what I’m talking about.” 

Spike felt a current slide through him, waking up a piece of him he thought he’d managed to lock away -- sparks, feelings, desires. He was suddenly very, very aware that Faye was a woman. And that her bright yellow ensemble left entirely too little to the imagination. 

Faye crossed her arms. “What, cat got your tongue, cowboy?” 

Spike swallowed a couple of times. This was Faye, for heaven’s sake! Romany. His annoying shipmate. A con artist. The woman who complained about cold baths and read bad romance novels and had been trying her damndest to take him on a date lately. He couldn’t feel anything about Faye. He didn’t. Finally he cleared his throat. “Something like that.” 

Faye watched him closely, green eyes glittering in the fading city lights shining through the bridge windows. There was an expression on her face he didn’t entirely trust. Something too knowing, too devious. She slowly walked back up to him, each long leg placed carefully in front of the other, a come-and-get-me look in her eyes. 

Spike stiffened. 

Faye stopped in front of him and put a hand on his lapel, flattening her palm against his chest. Spike’s grip on the mop was white-knuckled. She ran her hand up his lapel, across his shoulder, and hooked it around the back of his neck. 

“Faye…” his voice was gruffer than he intended. “What are you doing?” 

Faye leaned forward, her eyes locked on his the whole time. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “What will you let me do?” Her lips were red and very close to his own. He could feel her breath against his face. 

He leaned forward unconsciously. 

She inhaled sharply. Her lips parted slightly. 

“Not that!” Spike shifted the mop between them, almost bonking Faye on the nose with the handle. His words came out more panicked than he intended, his voice hitting a higher pitch. He licked his lips and swallowed hard. 

Faye’s gaze followed the flicker of his tongue. There was something hungry in her eyes. Something that wanted -- no needed -- him and it terrified him. His heart pounded his ribcage. He gulped down a breath and tried to force himself to be still. He fairly vibrated with pent-up energy. 

Faye’s breathing slowed as well, but he could tell it took her effort to do it. Her face was a mix of emotions -- frustration, confusion, fear, want. She put her hands on her hips and looked around at the navigation panel. It was still splattered with a lovely shade of galaxy blue. “Maybe we should--” she began. 

“Yeah.” Spike agreed too quickly. 

Faye’s eyes shot back to his face, searching, a little crease between her brows. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Spike nodded toward the controls. He felt a bead of sweat trickle down his spine. 

Faye’s expression softened as she searched his face, but Spike felt his guard go up. He wasn’t sure he wanted what he saw in Faye’s eyes. Pity? Compassion? Was she even capable of those things? Even if she were, he didn’t want them. Still, something settled uncomfortably in his stomach as Faye picked up her rag again and up-ended a bottle of nail polish remover over it. She turned back to the control panel and went to work on the largest splotch of blue polish with a vengeance, scrubbing a little harder than necessary. 

Spike dipped his mop into his bucket and started on the parts of the floor where the polish was still wet. He thought about making a quip about how the mop and soap seemed to be working just fine, but a glance at Faye’s tight shoulders and frustrated expression made him hold his tongue.

So that was how Jet found the two of them about half an hour later when he came to tell them dinner was ready. 

Silently flecked in galaxy blue.

Faye gulped her dinner down and left the room simply so she wouldn’t have to watch those mis-matched, curious brown eyes follow her around. After…whatever that was on the bridge, Spike had been mysteriously tight-lipped. He’d barely taken his eyes off of her the rest of the evening. To the point that even Jet noticed and tried to bring it up during dinner, though Faye and Spike shut him down with a pair of matching glares. Ed had been throwing bell peppers at Ein, but even her usual obliviousness seemed somehow less…oblivious. 

Faye slammed the door to her room a little harder than necessary and stomped over to her bed. She scowled down at the messy nest of blankets and pillows.  

“Stupid Cowboy!” She stomped her foot. “I’m the one supposed to be playing you, not the other way around.” 

She crossed her arms. Leave it to Spike to bungle something as simple as a kiss. It was just a kiss, for heaven’s sake! People kissed all the time. Kisses were innocent. 

And yet. 

Faye knew they weren’t. Knew she’d let herself get carried away on the bridge, tipped her hand, revealed some of her cards. Not to say that Spike hadn’t tipped a few of his own. She’d heard the rasp of his breath, had seen his pupils dilate, his white-knuckles, the way he trembled with emotion. 

She just wasn’t sure what emotion he was keeping so tightly bottled up. 

He’d certainly let her get closer than he’d ever done before. 

Right before he’d almost smacked her with a mop! 

Faye reached down to the bed and grabbed up one of the pillows, then threw it against the wall. It landed in a heap on the floor. “Take that, Spike,” she growled. “For playing so freaking hard to get.” 

Faye walked over and twisted her boot heel into the pillow. She kicked it back toward the bed, then followed it and picked it up, glaring at the scuff mark on the pillow case like it wasn’t her fault. 

“Damn it, Spike Spiegel!” She shouted and slammed the pillow back onto the bed. 

She whirled back toward her make-up table, staring at herself in the mirror. Bright green eyes, midnight purple hair, red lips. She’d always been an attractive girl, able to make men dance to her tune at the drop of a hat. Especially when she oh-so-carefully bent down to retrieve that hat in front of them. So why didn’t Spike take the bait? 

Was it because he was still attached to Julia? 

Was it because she didn’t look like Julia? 

Faye snatched her lipstick case off the table, staring at the twelve little marks, standing so obedient, like little soldiers. Why wouldn’t he just fall in line?

“You can’t hold out forever, cowboy,” she muttered. “I’ll --” 

A knock at the door interrupted her. 

Faye froze. It wasn’t Ed. The knock had been too regular, too controlled. Besides, Ed rarely knocked anyway. Usually she waved her arms and made ridiculous noises and blew raspberries until you opened the door. 

Which meant it was Jet. 

Or Spike. 

Neither of which Faye particularly wanted to talk to right now. 

“Go away!” She yelled. It sounded petulant, and she knew it, but there was something satisfying about it. 

There was silence on the other side of the door for a while. But no movement.

Faye took a few steps closer to the door. 

“You sure that’s what you want?” Spike’s voice floated in from the other side. 

Faye felt her breath catch in her throat. 

“I might be here to deliver that apology.” 

Faye laughed despite herself. “That’d be the day.” 

“So, you gonna let me in or what?” 

Faye opened the door, but she stood in the doorway, so that Spike was forced to stay in the hall. His eyes flickered past her, scanning the room. For what? Or was it merely an old habit? He was always watching his surroundings, though he didn’t usually do it so intently on the Bebop . 

When he spent longer than usual staring over her shoulder, Faye sighed. “What are you looking for?”

Spike’s eyes flicked back to hers, a slight grin tugging at his mouth. “My effigy.” 

“Your what now?” 

“I’m sure you have one. How many pins you got in it now?.”

Faye snorted. “Like I’d stab a doll instead of you.” 

“Jet probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Might get blood all over the navigation panel instead of nail polish.” Spike kept a straight face.

Faye tilted her head. “What are you here for, cowboy?” 

He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked unsure of himself. Faye almost giggled, but she forced her expression to stay stern. Spike wouldn’t enjoy being compared to a lost puppy and would clam up and leave without speaking. Much as she was annoyed with him, she also desperately wanted to know what he’d worked up the courage to tell her. 

He sighed, eyes roving their surroundings again. 

“Hey, my face is up here,” Faye quipped.  

He dragged his gaze reluctantly back to her face. “I know.” 

“Good. ‘Cause you seem to have trouble looking your friends in the eye, lately.” 

“Do not.” 

“Whatever you say, Spike.” 

He sighed. “Yeah, well.” He cleared his throat. “I’m here to say sorry.” He looked like he’d swallowed something unpleasant and was considering throwing it back up. 

Faye basked in his discomfort, though she kept her expression carefully neutral. So, he wasn’t an emotionless husk after all, then. Their misadventure on the bridge had him rattled, too. Faye leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, letting her body curve suggestively. Spike pointedly kept his eyes on her face. 

“Sorry about what?” Faye blinked innocently. 

He scowled. “You know what.” 

“For making me spill my nail polish? Well, gee, thanks, but sorry doesn’t replace a full bottle of Lover’s Remorse. ” 

Spike stiffened like she’d run an electric shock through him, mouth working to come up with some kind of response. 

Faye laughed. “It’s the name of the color.” 

“Oh.” 

“Mm-hmm.” 

He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s not what the apology was for.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. “And you know it.” 

“Do I?” 

He frowned at her. 

Faye sighed. “Alright. Ok. Sorry I almost kissed you.” She wasn’t entirely successful in keeping the sarcasm out of her tone. 

His eyes widened, nostrils flaring. He shook his head. “Faye, I’m trying to be serious here.” 

“I’m not stopping you.” 

He grit his teeth. “Look. It’s just -- I’m sorry if I lead you on. Up there.” He put a hand behind his neck. “On the bridge.” 

Faye almost lost it then and there. She wanted to laugh out loud. Or punch him. “ You lead me on? You almost smacked me with a mop! I was the one coming on to you!” 

Spike looked surprised, both eyebrows going up. 

“Don’t take credit for something you didn’t initiate, cowboy,” Faye purred, walking two fingers up his chest. 

Spike stepped back. 

Faye let him go without resisting. 

He looked angry. He looked lost. He looked like Faye’s reaction had been anything but what he’d been expecting. 

Faye rolled her eyes. “Look, Spike. We’re both adults. I get it. You weren’t in the same mindset I was. So you didn’t want my kiss.” She shrugged. “So, what? I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.” It was a lie through her teeth and she suspected Spike knew it. She’d been disappointed by his rejection. But that didn’t mean she had to let him know. He wanted to play hard to get? That was fine. So could she. 

“Yeah, ok, Faye.” His tone was carefully neutral. 

Faye gave him a saccharine smile. “Now, is there anything else you wanted or can I get back to murdering your effigy?” 

Spike opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, then closed it and shrugged. 

“Good.” Faye stepped back and shut the door. But not too hard. 

Just hard enough to let him know that he’d hurt her feelings. 

Faye put her back to the door and waited. 

Outside in the hall, she heard a sigh. Spike hesitated and then his footsteps faded away from her door. 

Faye stomped over to the bed. 

She had a pillow to strangle.

Chapter Text

“Look, we can’t keep him here!” the ISSP officer protested. “I mean, this is a police station, not a daycare.” 

“Well, we certainly can’t keep him! We’re cowboys.” Jet gestured emphatically at him and Faye. “Not babysitters!” 

Faye stood nearby holding a dirty baby boy in her arms, scowling and trying not to wrinkle her nose at his smell. It’s not like it was his fault he’d been kidnapped by somebody who obviously didn’t know how to change a diaper. Despite that, the little boy didn’t seem much the worse for wear. Thankfully, he stopped crying and fell asleep on the way to the station because Faye and Jet had both been on the edge of stifling the little bugger. Even the boy’s kidnapper -- some former employee of his parents who felt slighted or underpaid or something -- had been regretting his actions. 

But nowhere in the bounty listing had anyone thought to mention the fact that the baby was still actively with his kidnapper. And now ISSP was telling them they had to take care of it??

The ISSP officer sighed, rubbing his temples. “I get that it’s not ideal, but his parents are on Europa right now. We’ve contacted them, but it’s going to take a day or so for them to get here. I’m afraid you’ll have to keep him ‘til then.” 

“We don’t have anything on our ship to take care of a baby!” Jet thundered. 

“Yeah, well, ditto here, buddy,” the officer drawled. 

Jet rolled his eyes. “Fine. But I’m taking note of any expenses he creates and adding that to the bounty.” 

The officer looked away and cleared his throat. “About that bounty…” 

“Oh, no, you don’t.” Jet shook a finger at the officer. “Don’t you dare tell me there’s a processing error.” 

“Well…” the officer rubbed his neck. 

At that moment, the little boy woke up with a start, staring around with wide eyes. Faye shifted from foot to foot. “Uh, Jet…?” 

“Not now, Faye.” Jet waved a hand at her.

“I think it might need to be now.” 

“Faye…” Jet began. 

A high-pitched wail broke the humdrum of the station. 

Jet whirled around, wide-eyed. 

“I tried to tell you!” Faye shouted over the screaming baby. 

Jet turned back on the officer. “You see what I mean? We can’t keep him!” 

“It’s against regulation for us to keep him! Now get that screaming thing out of here. You’re causing a scene.” 

Jet rolled his eyes. A scene. Sure. In front of who, exactly? The waiting room was currently empty besides themselves, a handful of officers and their handcuffed bounty. Although they all looked like they wanted the baby to shut up. 

“Faye, maybe you ought to --” 

“Not before I get my fee, lunkhead!” 

Jet sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. I’ll stay here, make sure the fee gets processed correctly.” He glared at the officer. “You take the baby and go…” Jet trailed off. 

“Where, Jet?” 

“Back to the Bebop , I guess.” 

“You’ve got to be joking.” 

“You got a better idea?”

She sighed. “Not really.” 

“I’ll see you there when I wrap this up.” 

“Spike’s going to kill us.” 

“So long as he doesn’t kill the kid.” 

Faye snorted. “Alright, whatever.” She headed out of the station. “But I better get an extra share of the bounty for this!” she yelled over her shoulder as she left. 

Once the screaming faded, Jet turned his best glare back on the officer. “Now, about that processing error…”

“Great, she barely talks to me for like a week, then she runs in here and throws a damn baby at me! What the hell am I supposed to do with you?” Spike crossed his arms and glared daggers at the baby propped against some pillows on the other end of the couch. Faye barged in with the screaming brat a few minutes ago, dumped him in an incredulous Spike’s arms, and rushed back out again to “buy diapers!” 

The baby reached a tiny hand toward Spike. He didn’t reach back. It was weird, all bald and toothless. Helpless. Just sitting there, blinking at him and making gurgly noises. At least it wasn’t crying right now. Not after he shoved a random piece of paper in its mouth. He hoped the soggy sheet wasn’t important, because it was covered in drool and rapidly deteriorating.

Not to mention the smell. Spike didn’t know the first thing about taking care of a baby, but he did know that it wasn’t supposed to smell like that. He lit a cigarette to try and cover the horrible odor, but it wasn’t working. 

Hence Faye’s desperate need for diapers, he supposed. 

“She better actually be getting diapers and not bailing on me,” he grumbled at Ein, who was curled up snoozing at his feet. After the excitement of the baby’s appearance, Ein laid back down, completely unconcerned, and promptly went back to sleep. 

“How can you sleep through this? Isn’t your nose more sensitive than mine?” 

If it wasn’t for the fact that Faye would kill him if he left the baby alone, Spike would’ve bailed. The only reason he was still here was that Faye was gone, Jet was stuck at the station negotiating fees, and he wasn’t about to leave a baby unattended with Ed. Not that she’d do anything dangerous on purpose, but Ed was about as careful as a germ on unwashed hands. Unless it was intricate net-diving, she had about as much finesse with these sorts of things as Spike did. 

She’d find the baby adorable, he was sure. Then she’d want to play with him by throwing him in the air or something equally dangerous. Faye said something about keeping the baby alive until its parents came for it, so Ed babysitting was definitely out of the question.

At that moment, Spike heard bare feet pattering down the hall. He face-palmed. Great. He shouldn’t have thought of Ed -- thinking about her had the uncanny effect of summoning her. He definitely didn’t need another kid to watch right now. 

Ein lifted his head at the sound of Ed’s approach, looking up and pricking his ears forward.

Spike only had a second or two to prepare before Ed popped up over the back of the couch. “Hiya, Spike-person! Ed heard screaming. What’s--” She stopped, noticing the baby for the first time. She scuttled across the back of the couch like some gangly spider until she hovered over the kid. Her eyes were wide as saucers. “What’s this?” Her voice was soft and awed and Spiked had to wonder if Ed had ever seen a baby before. Surely she had, right? 

“It’s a baby,” Spike groused. 

Ed leaned closer to the boy.  She oohed and aahed over him, fingers wavering over his head like she wanted to touch him, but wasn’t quite sure she should. The baby stopped chewing on his paper and watched Ed sway back and forth. He giggled, blinking big blue eyes and reaching for Ed’s face. Ed held out her finger. The baby grabbed it. Ed giggled. “Oh! He’s friendly.” 

“I guess,” Spike muttered. 

“Where’d Spike-person get a baby?”

Spike sighed. “Faye.”

Ed’s head whipped around to stare at Spike, wide-eyed. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, Ed, stop it. Right now.” 

Ed grinned. 

Spike frowned.

Ed pulled her finger out of the baby’s grip and shuffled down the back of the couch, until she was sitting cross-legged over Spike’s left shoulder. 

“Ed knows babies take time,” she said. 

Spike almost choked on his next inhale. “What?” 

“Babies take time,” Ed said, slower. “So, he can’t be yours and Faye-Faye’s.” 

“Edward!” Spike shouted. 

Ed pretended to fall off the back of the couch at the force of his shout, dangling by her knees. 

The baby squirmed and made a distressed sound. Spike ignored it. 

Ed righted herself and tipped her head, giving Spike a cheeky grin. “Nyah?” 

“He can’t be mine and Faye’s because we haven’t--” he stopped, glaring at her. “There’s no way under the sun, Ed.” 

“No way what?” 

“That I would ever have a kid with Faye!” 

“Never say never!” Ed quipped. 

“Ed! Get out!” Spike pointed out of the room. 

Ein barked. The baby whimpered.  

“You too, mutt!” 

Ein barked again, this one indignant. Spike would’ve told the baby to leave too, if he was able to understand anything or walk on his own. 

“But, Spike-person…” Ed sniffed. “Ed didn’t mean--” 

Spike stood up and whirled around, pointing. “Out, Edward!” 

Ed blinked a few times, a stunned expression on her face. 

“Ok,” she finally said. “Ed will go.” 

“Thank you,” Spike managed through gritted teeth. 

Ed walked slowly out of the room. 

The baby started to cry. 

Great. Spike put his head in his hand. Just great.

“You yelled at Ed?” Faye asked, incredulous. 

Spike sighed and tipped his head back, staring at the ceiling fan. At least Faye seemed to have forgotten her resolve to not talk to him. “I didn’t yell at Ed.” 

“She said you did.” 

Faye had cleared the coffee table of the computer, ashtrays, stale cigarettes, alcohol bottles and other detritus and had the baby laid out on a blanket on his back. He was quiet, for now, though he’d cried incessantly since Ed left the room. Until Faye got back and popped a pacifier into his mouth. Spike wasn’t sure if the baby stopped crying from sheer surprise or because he actually liked sucking on the rubber thing. 

Faye cooed at the boy as she laid out diapers and other supplies from the store on the table beside him. "Hey, now, little one, I’m going to get you cleaned up, ok?” She tapped the end of his nose with one finger. 

Spike looked down at her and raised an eyebrow. “Faye, what are you doing?” 

Faye looked up at him as if he’d caught her with her hand in the cookie jar. She blushed. “Well, he is kinda cute.” 

Spike rolled his eyes. 

“C’mon, admit it.” 

“I’m not admitting anything.” 

Faye smirked and started unbuttoning the baby’s dirty green jumper. “I even got you something new to wear, yes I did.”

The baby giggled at her. 

“I only hope it fits. I had to guess on the size.” She continued undressing the baby, but her eyes found Spike’s again. “Do you know how hard it is to buy baby clothes?” 

“No idea.” 

Once she had the jumper off, Faye reached into a tub of soapy water on the floor beside her and wrung out one of her washcloths, sponging the baby off the best she could. “There’s about a billion sizes and they’re all marked in months and ages. Not like size 1 or 2 or whatever. How am I supposed to know how old this little guy is?” 

Spike shrugged. He hadn’t the faintest clue. Nor would he even if baby clothes were marked by size. 

Faye scrubbed the little boy until he started to squirm and then toweled him off. “Well, turns out he’s blond under all that dirt.” 

Spike raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t sure if Faye was talking to herself or him, but she didn’t seem to expect an answer. 

She disappeared below the edge of the table as she rooted around in her shopping bags. She popped back up with a second jumper, this one printed with little red and blue dinosaurs. She held it next to the baby contemplatively. “I think this just might work. But first…” she wrinkled her nose and gestured at his dirty diaper. “That.” 

She glanced back up at Spike. 

He held his hands up and shook his head. 

She huffed, but she started unfastening the diaper. “So. Ed.” She kept her eyes on her work. 

“What?” 

“Why’d you yell at her?” 

“I didn’t -- gah!” Spike threw his hands up. “Ed was just being Ed, ok? I wasn’t in the mood for it.” 

“What’d she say?” 

Spike glanced at Faye, wondering what Ed told her. Apparently, Faye ran into a distressed Edward on the way back from her shopping spree, sitting out in the hanger with Ein. Which had prompted this whole awkward conversation once she got to the living room. 

Spike hadn’t been able to explain how relieved he was to see Faye return, with actual bags of baby supplies, if the pastel colors on the labels were any indication. He’d been at his wit’s end with the screaming, hiccuping baby. He’d tried talking to it, holding it (how the hell was one supposed to hold that squirming thing, anyway?), ignoring it. Nothing worked. Until Faye came back and scooped the boy up and sang some silly little ditty and got the pacifier into his mouth. 

Faye finally got the dirty diaper off and she and Spike both wrinkled their noses at the rank smell. She dropped it on the floor. 

The baby started to cry again, turning his head and dropping the pacifier, although thankfully this was more of a whine than the ear-piercing shrieking from earlier. 

“Oh, hush, hush, I’m hurrying!” Faye said. She dug around in one of the bags and came up with some wipes, which she started using to clean the baby’s bottom. He cried louder. 

“Bet that’s cold,” Spike said. 

“Huh?” 

“The kid. Bet he’s cold.” 

“Well, I’m going as fast as I can!” 

Spike smirked. 

Faye got the little boy cleaned up and a new diaper on (somewhat crookedly) after a few minutes. Then she started getting him into his new jumper. His tears seemed to fall faster and his screaming increased in pitch as she maneuvered his hands and legs into the jumper. 

“Just hold still, will you?” Faye yelled. 

The baby cried luder. 

Spike stuffed his fingers in his ears. 

Eventually, Faye got the baby wrangled into his new outfit and his crying slowed. The jumper was too big and Faye cuffed the sleeves so the baby’s hands were free. Then she wrapped him up in the blanket and held him close to her chest for a few minutes. 

He quieted down. 

Spike tentatively took his fingers out of his ears.

“How do you stand it?” 

Faye frowned. “I don’t. But I don’t have much choice, now do I?” She lifted the baby as if to illustrate that she lacked the luxury of covering her ears. Spike mumbled something vaguely sympathetic. 

Faye dug around in the bags again, one-handed. She came up with a bottle and something in a blue can. 

“I need you to mix this for me.” She held them out to Spike. 

“What the hell is that?” 

“Formula.” 

Spike tilted his head. “Faye, you might as well be speaking German right now.” 

“What, you mean you don’t speak German?” Faye fluttered her eyelashes at Spike in a mock innocent look.

“No.” He snorted. “Why would I?” 

Faye rolled her eyes. “I don’t know, you're the one who brought it up.” 

“You know what I meant.” 

“Yeah, and I know you’re not an idiot. Look, it’s baby food. Ok? You mix it up like the can says and put it in this.” She shook the bottle for good measure. “Then I can feed him.” 

Spike opened his mouth to protest, but Faye interrupted. 

“That’s probably why he keeps crying. He’s hungry.” 

Spike grabbed the formula and bottle out of Faye’s hand and headed for the kitchen. “Fine.” 

To his great annoyance, Faye followed, baby and pacifier in tow. 

“What, you don’t trust me to stir baby food?” Spike muttered. 

“Actually?” Faye raised an eyebrow as they stepped into the kitchen. She was grinning. “No. I’ve seen your skills in the kitchen. But it’s either that or you hold him, so…” 

Spike felt a flash of annoyance, but a relieved grin tugged at the corner of his mouth. He hurriedly busied himself with reading the can of formula so that Faye wouldn’t see it. “Good point.” 

“You also didn’t answer my question.” 

“What question?” Spike opened the can. 

“About what Ed said.” 

He rummaged in some cabinets, looking for something he could measure with. 

“It’s on the side of the bottle,” Faye said. 

He picked up the plastic bottle and glanced at it. There were little numbers and lines running up one side. He held the bottle under the tap and poured some water into it, watching the line carefully. 

“C’mon, Spike, you’re avoiding the question.” 

“Am not.” 

He turned back around and set the bottle on the table. Faye was staring at him with that look she got when she knew he was lying. Though the fact that she was bouncing a baby on her hip mitigated it. Spike felt an inane desire to smile at the domestic scene. It wasn’t a scene he ever pictured himself or Faye in and the circumstances that brought it about were unbelievable (as usual), but there was something almost…comforting…about being normal for a moment. Even if he really didn’t have any idea what he was doing. He wondered where Faye had gotten her knowledge of kids, because she, at least, seemed to have a general idea of how to take care of the baby. Had she been a babysitter, back on Earth? Or had she had little nieces or nephews or cousins? 

Spike’s experience with babies was absolutely nil. There wasn’t much room for them in the life he’d lived. Babies were weak by nature and weak had no place in a syndicate. Or even in the foster care system or on the streets. 

“Spike. Hey, Earth to Spike!” 

“Huh?” 

“You ok?” Faye was giving him a weird look. 

“Uh, yeah.” 

“You were looking at me funny.” 

“I was looking at you funny?” Spike raised an eyebrow. 

“Yeah.” 

“Sorry.” 

Faye grimaced, but she didn’t offer to explain “funny.” 

“You gonna finish mixing that?” Faye pointed at the bottle as the little boy whimpered. He half-opened his mouth, as if to cry, but Faye repositioned the pacifier and he sucked on it with wide eyes. “I don’t think I can fend him off much longer.” 

“Oh, right.” 

Spike checked the directions on the can again and added the appropriate amount of whitish powder to the bottle before screwing the lid back on. There was something ironic here. Mixing formula for a baby, when previously the only things he’d mixed were explosives and drugs. By contrast, this was astonishingly innocent. If anyone from his former life could see him now -- Spike felt something tight grip his chest and shook his head, heading off memories before they could pop up. 

“So, really, Spike, what did Ed say?” Faye asked again. “Last chance before I ask her to repeat herself.” 

Spike stopped in the middle of shaking up the bottle. “No!” 

Faye tilted her head. “ Don’t go ask her?” 

“Please don’t.” 

“Please? Spike, are you… embarrassed? ” 

“No.” 

“You are! You’re blushing!” 

“Am not.” 

“Are too.” 

Spike grumbled under his breath and shook the bottle some more. 

Across the room, the baby opened his mouth wide and this time, Faye wasn’t fast enough with the pacifier. It tumbled to the floor as the baby’s piercing shriek split the air. Spike winced. 

“Quick!” Faye held her free hand out. “Give me the bottle.” 

Spike gave the contents a dubious glance -- they looked mixed enough -- and handed it off to Faye. She popped it in the little boy’s mouth. He seemed surprised at first, but once he figured out what it was, he began sucking greedily at it. 

Faye and Spike both breathed a sigh of relief. 

“See, I told you. Hungry.” 

“Sure.” Spike brushed past Faye and out into the hall.

“Where are you going?” 

“To do…” Spike paused, realizing he didn’t have an excuse ready. “Stuff.” 

“Ah.” 

He turned around to walk away, and then he turned back. “She made a joke that it might be ours.” The words fell out of his mouth, mumbled and fast, his eyes locked on the baby in Faye’s arms.

But by the look on Faye’s face, she understood what he said. Her mouth hung open, eyes wide. Faye’s face turned red. “There’s no way --” she began heatedly. 

“I know.” Spike cut her off. “That’s what I told her.” 

Faye’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “So then why…?” 

“Because then I told her to leave.” 

“Spike!” 

He shrugged. “I wasn’t going down that road with her!”

“That’s…fair. But Ed thinks you’re mad at her. You should go apologize.”

Spike sighed. “Fine.” 

“Soon.” 

“Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.” He walked away. 

“Before I tell her to come find you!” Faye yelled after him. 

The sounds of a content baby sucking noisily at his bottle followed Spike down the hall. 

Chapter Text

“Quick, do you want to go out for dinner? Say yes!” Faye poked her head into Spike's room, pushing the slightly ajar door open a bit wider to get her shoulders through. 

“Huh?” Spike looked up from where he sat at a small desk in one corner of the room, jacket off, sleeves rolled up, and Jericho on the table in front of him. He didn’t even have his tie on tonight and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone. 

Faye glanced around the room, partly to avoid staring at the bit of Spike’s chest playing hide-and-seek with his open shirt. It was rare that she was in his room. Or that she found him looking so relaxed. In fact, now that she thought about it, she’d never actually gotten a good look around inside. Spike kept it locked when he was out, and when he was in, he kept the door firmly closed. But the door had been cracked tonight and Faye barely thought twice before barging in.

He hadn’t stopped her.

But he was staring at her, half-incredulous, half-surprised, as if she'd broken some unspoken rule and he didn't know how to address it. 

Faye felt suddenly awkward, so she glanced around. The room was austere, mostly empty walls and shelves, plain blue blanket on the bed. There were a few clothes on the floor, and Spike's jacket draped over the end of the bed, but otherwise, nothing much to make the space personal. She swiped a finger across the shelf next to the door, coming up with a good-size dust bunny. “Geez, it’s dusty in here. Do you ever clean?” 

That seemed to break the spell and Spike remembered how to talk. “No.” 

“No to dinner? Or no to cleaning?” 

“Uh.” 

“Say yes to dinner. Please.” Faye fluttered long lashes at him. 

“What’s gotten into you, Faye?” 

“Jet’s cooking bell peppers and beef again. But if we team up and say we’re going out, he can’t say no. Ed’s already on board.” 

“Ed?”

“Uh, yeah. You know, red-headed kid who’s usually making airplane noises and flying around the ship with a computer on her head?” Faye stuck her arms out in an imitation of Ed. 

The corner of Spike’s mouth quirked up in a grin. 

Faye smirked. She had him. “There you go, see, you like this idea.” 

“Who told you that?” Spike’s tone was stern, but he laid down his gun and stood up, grabbing his jacket off the bed. 

“Nah, leave that.” Faye gestured at the jacket. The words were out of her mouth before she thought about it. But she realized she liked Spike without his jacket. That he looked so much more relaxed, casual. 

Spike tilted his head. “Why?” 

Faye desperately hoped she wasn't blushing as she answered breezily, “It’s warm out.” 

Spike blinked, staring at her again. Faye crossed her arms and dared him to contradict, but he shrugged and threw the jacket back on the bed. He paused by the desk, hand hovering over his black tie, negligently draped over the edge. 

“That goes for the tie, too, cowboy.” 

He glanced up, the movement sharp and wide-eyed, before he got control of his features again and returned to his usual half-lidded gaze. 

Faye smiled. 

Spike gave her a calculating glance. His fingers inched closer to the tie. Faye raised an eyebrow. He sighed and threw his hands up. 

“Whatever you say, Romany.” 

Faye tilted her head. “Whatever I say?” 

Spike pushed past her and out into the hall. “Don’t read into that.” 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Faye watched as he walked down the hall, hands in his pockets, back stiff. 

He didn’t look back as he spoke. “Close the door and come on, Faye. I’m hungry.” 

“This is a coup!” Jet protested, glaring at his three crew mates. 

“Is not!” Faye protested. 

“Coo! Coo!” Ed started imitating a pigeon, flapping her arms and bopping around. 

“I believe it’s more of a coalition, Jet.” Spike crossed his arms. 

Jet threw his hands up. “Fine! Go out and miss out on a home cooked meal. Spend your woolongs. I don’t care!” 

“It’s not about you, Jet,” Faye hedged. 

“Sure.” 

“Just your cooking,” Spike finished. 

Faye gave him a glare. 

He smirked. 

Jet scowled at everybody. 

“You can come with us,” Faye said. 

“Yeah, Jet! Come with Bebop Bebop!” Ed crowed. “Come get yummies-in-your-tummies!” 

“No.” 

“Aw, c’mon, Jet, don’t be a bad sport.” Spike was trying and failing to hold back a grin. “Faye's paying.” 

“Do what now?” Faye yelped. 

“Well, if it’s on Faye…” Jet’s scowl lessened. 

“Hang on, that’s not what I --” 

“You are the one who asked us to dinner,” Spike pointed out. 

“Yahoo! Faye Faye’s paying!” Ed cheered. “Let’s go, let’s go! Nom nom nom!” She sprinted out of the cockpit. 

“You can’t say no to that." Spike gestured at the retreating Edward. 

Jet eyed Faye. “He’s got a point.” 

“Fine!” Faye stomped her foot. “Fine. But you lunkheads owe me!” 

“Don’t we always?” Spike rolled his eyes. 

“Damn right, you do!” Faye huffed as the three followed Ed out of the ship and into the Tharsis streets.

“Bet you can’t eat more than Ed, Spike-person!” Ed stuck her chest out and beat it like a gorilla. At the two-top table beside Spike and Ed, Faye hid her face behind a convenient curtain of hair and hoped that the noodle truck chef wasn't watching them too closely. Did the kid have no manners?

“Oh yeah?” Spike grinned and stuck a hand out. “You’re on, kiddo.” 

Ed gave him an enthusiastic handshake. 

Faye rolled her eyes and put her head in her hands. Both Ed and Spike had monster bowls of noodles in front of them, piled high with egg, greens, and pork, swimming in rich broth. “Either of you puke, you’re paying,” she muttered. 

Spike looked over at Faye and Jet's table with a wink. “That a bet?” 

Faye’s head snapped up. “Absolutely. You puke, you lose, cowboy.” 

“What about Ed? Does Ed lose too?” She jumped up on her seat and held her chopsticks up like swords. 

Faye glared at Ed. Ed just grinned wider. 

“I’ll cover Ed,” Spike said. 

Faye’s eyes widened. Was the cowboy actually playing along? 

“I’ll hold you to that, Spike-o.” Jet interrupted. 

There was a spark in Spike’s eye that Faye hadn’t seen in a while, that familiar air of challenge. He was stepping up to the plate and playing for keeps. Faye recalled the conversation where he swore he’d never overindulged to the point of throwing up and wondered if that was about to change tonight. She watched as Spike and Ed both dug enthusiastically into their noodle bowls, racing each other to the bottom. 

Faye rolled her eyes. “I am not paying for their eating contest,” she grumbled. 

Jet laughed as he dug into his own steaming bowl of noodles. “You really want to see one of them revisit dinner?” 

Faye shuddered. “On second thought. No.” 

“All I gotta say is, if they do, it better not be on my ship.” 

Faye snorted into her own bowl of noodles. 

Jet leaned over as Ed cheered and held up her empty bowl, waving it in the air over her head. “Done, done, done!” She plunked the bowl on her head and scampered up to the noodle truck, waving her arms in the air. “Another!” she cheered. The chef looked over at the table, slightly amused. Faye waved at him to go ahead and fill Ed’s order.

“Hey!” Spike protested between gulps. “That’s not fair!” 

“Catch-up, Spike-person!” Ed laughed as she came back to the table with her second bowl. 

Jet lowered his voice as Spike raced back up to the noodle truck for seconds. “He say anything to you yet?” 

Faye slurped up a particularly long noodle. “About what?” 

“Anything.” 

She sighed. “Not really.” 

“You two over your differences?” 

“Our differences?” Faye suddenly sat up straighter. Was Jet talking about their little spat on the bridge? She didn’t think he’d been privy to any of that. Had Spike talked to him about it? She felt something squirm uncomfortably in her stomach. 

Jet rolled his eyes. “C’mon, Faye,” he said around a mouthful of noodles. “It’s not like I didn’t notice you weren’t talking to him for like a week.” 

“Oh.” Faye felt relieved. It seemed Spike hadn’t divulged the details. “That. Uh. Yeah. I think we sorted it out. Sure.” 

Jet gave her a look that said he clearly didn’t believe her, but Faye just shrugged and glanced up and down the street. It was a busy night in this corner of Tharsis and the street was lined with food trucks serving everything from ramen to genuine Ganymede rock lobster. Yeah, right. Faye didn’t even feel pity for the losers lined up at the bright and flashy truck. Everybody knew you didn’t buy Ganymede rock lobster from a food truck. And definitely not on Tharsis. 

Jet dragged her attention back to their little table as Spike returned to the table beside them and started gulping down his second bowl with a speed to rival Ed, who was already half-way through hers. “You don’t sound convinced.” 

“Look, Jet, it’s…kind of personal.” 

Jet raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s not like it’s going to interfere with hunting or anything.” 

“Like I haven’t heard that one before.” 

“It’s not!” Faye protested with her mouth full. 

“Swallow.” Jet admonished. 

She did. “We’re adults. We know how to handle ourselves, ok?” 

“I know you are. And can. I’m just worried about my crew, is all. Especially him.” He nodded toward Spike, still engrossed in his contest with Ed. Faye grimaced. They were both on their third bowls now. 

“He seems better now,” she said tentatively. 

“Yeah. Now. But who knows how long it’s going to last? He’s been going through these mood swings since we brought him back from the Tower. And I’m still not convinced the man’s sleeping.” 

Faye couldn’t argue with the fact that the dark circles under Spike’s eyes had become a permanent part of his look. She sighed. “You think we need to get…outside help?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe. I’m willing to give him as many tries as he needs, but some days it doesn’t even seem like he’s trying.” 

“I know what you mean,” Faye muttered into her bowl. 

Jet looked over, a questioning look on his face, but Faye shook her head. 

“I just don’t know how much time is normal for this stuff,” Jet murmured. “I mean, shouldn’t we see some sort of progress by now?” 

Faye gestured at the eating contest, still in full swing. “That’s progress, right? I mean, he made up with Ed and now they’re practically best friends.” 

Jet nodded reluctantly. “What did Ed say to him anyway? He wouldn’t tell me.” 

Faye almost choked on a noodle. Jet pounded her on the back. 

Ed and Spike paused just long enough in inhaling their food to look over and make sure Faye was ok before resuming. Ed was cheering as she stacked her third bowl on the growing pile and zoomed back to the noodle truck. The chef looked stunned as the lanky girl demanded her fourth bowl, but he served it up anyway. 

“That bad, huh?” Jet asked. 

“Jet.” Faye looked at him. “It was Ed. There was a baby. That I handed Spike. You can put two and two together.” 

Jet looked confused. “I don’t…oh. Oh. Ed said that?” Jet’s eyes widened. 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh.” 

“Yup.” 

Jet snorted. “Touchy, isn’t he?” 

Faye cracked a smile herself. “Just a little.” 

“Huh.” Jet slid his empty noodle bowl away. “Well. I could go for some dessert. Want to join me?” 

Faye glanced up and down the street. She caught a glimpse of a few trucks advertising things like ice cream, cakes, and cannoli. “Sure. What’ll we do with lunkhead and vacuum cleaner here?” She jerked a thumb at Spike and Ed, both of whom were still chowing down on noodles, though both were showing a marked drop in speed. 

“Leave ‘em. We’ll be back soon enough. Hey, Spike!” 

“Hmm?” Spike looked up, a noodle dangling from his mouth. He slurped it up. 

“Keep an eye on Ed. We’re going down the street for dessert.” 

“Sure, whatever.” Spike waved a dismissive hand and focused on his noodles again as Jet and Faye left. 

“Sure took long enough! This gelato better be worth it, Jet!” Faye huffed as they headed back up the street, little plastic cups of the cold dessert in their hands. 

Jet had already taken a bite of his. “Trust me, Faye. This stuff’s the best.” 

Faye scowled, but dipped her spoon into her pink strawberry gelato anyway. She put it in her mouth and smiled despite herself. 

Jet elbowed her lightly in the ribcage. “Told you.” 

Faye had eaten almost half the cup by the time they made their way back up the street to the noodle truck. “You think they finished their contest yet?” 

“By now? I hope so.” Jet shuddered. “Or else we might be cleaning more than vomit off the ship.” 

“Gross, Jet!” 

Jet shrugged. But as they neared the noodle truck, Faye realized that she didn’t see Edward anywhere. Just Spike, slumped over the table with his head on his arms and a stack of empty bowls teetering precariously by his elbow. 

“Spike!” she yelled as she ran up. 

He didn’t answer. 

“Spike, hey, are you ok? Where’s Ed?” 

He groaned. 

“C’mon, pard, for real,” Jet walked up, eyes scanning the road. “Where’s the kid?” 

“Around.” 

Faye slammed her gelato cup on the table, making the stack of bowls sway even more dangerously. She grabbed Spike’s hair and yanked his head up.

“Ow! Faye!” He gasped as she brought him up, putting a hand to his mouth as he lurched forward. 

Faye let go and jumped back, but Spike got control of himself after making a few dubious noises and swallowed something down. He was positively green. 

“You look terrible,” Jet said. 

“Tell me about it,” Spike moaned. “That kid’s a freakin’ garbage disposal.” 

“She win?” Jet asked. 

Spike nodded. 

“Speaking of the kid, where is she, Spike?” Faye demanded. 

Spike’s eyes went wide in his pale face and he looked around hurriedly. “She was right here! I swear.” He levered himself to his feet and stopped again, a hand on his stomach, eyes squeezed shut. Faye could see a noticeable curve in Spike’s usually flat abdomen. 

“Dude. Are you trying to explode yourself?” She’d never seen Spike lose control like this before and it frightened her. She gave Jet a sideways glance, only to find that he was giving her a worried look in return.

Spike didn’t answer, but he got his eyes open again. 

“Last time I let you get into an eating contest,” Jet muttered. “Where’s your self-control, Spike-o?” 

“Shut up. Don’t make this worse.” 

Faye sighed. “You know, it might actually help if you make yourself --” 

“Oh, no. Uh-unh.” 

“This isn’t about the money, Spike. You look awful.” 

“Yup.” 

“And we still don’t know where Ed is.” Jet crossed his arms. 

“She went to get a cookie.” Spike put a hand over his mouth again, cheeks puffing up. 

Faye inched back another step. By now curious onlookers were watching their little scene. “A cookie? Where?” 

Spike waved a hand vaguely behind him. 

“Well, she’s nowhere in sight now, pard,” Jet growled. 

Spike turned and surveyed the street. “She was right…there.” He looked incredibly lost and sick and Faye couldn’t help but feel a twinge of pity. Spike was usually so careful about toeing the line with stuff like this. She knew Ed had been egging him on, but it was like he’d completely lost touch with what he was doing, which, despite his usual laid-back demeanor, was out-of-character for him.

Jet interrupted her thoughts. “Alright, well, we’d better split up and find her. Before she gets herself in trouble.” 

Spike tried to smile, but it was a grimace. “Probably too late for that.” 

“And who’s fault is that?” 

Faye didn’t think it was possible, but Spike turned a shade greener. 

“Exactly. So don’t think you get to sit this one out. I don’t care how many bowls of noodles you ate. You’re helping us look for Edward.” Jet turned and surveyed the street again. “I’ll go that way.” He pointed up the street towards where Spike indicated. “Faye, you take the alleys on the left. Spike, the right. Got it?” 

“Got it,” Faye said. 

“Spike?” 

Spike started to nod his head, but then he staggered off to the side of the street and promptly lost the contents of his stomach. 

Faye and Jet watched for a few seconds before Faye walked up to him. Spike had one hand on the brick wall for balance, the other wiping his mouth. He was shaking, a sheen of sweat on his skin. 

“You--” Faye started to ask. 

Spike convulsed and retched again. 

“Nope. Seems not.” She sighed and turned back to Jet. “You go on ahead, Jet. I’ve got lunkhead, here. I don’t think it’s going to be a good idea to send him off by himself right now.” For more than just the fact that he looked unsteady on his feet.

Jet looked like he was about to protest, but then he just shook his head. “Fine. I’ll take the street, you guys take the alleys together. Call me if you find something.” 

He headed off on Ed’s trail. 

Spike straightened up, but he wouldn’t meet Faye’s eye. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, looking disgusted. 

“Ok, you ready?” 

“Faye--” But he didn’t get to finish the sentence before he was doubled up again, losing yet more food on the street. 

“Third time’s a charm, right?” Faye muttered. She rubbed his back. 

He didn’t protest, but it took a few more heaves before he was able to leave the wall. 

Chapter Text

“Look, I was just trying to make it up to the kid, ok?”

“By puking your guts out?” 

Spike grimaced. “I didn’t intend for it to get out of hand.” 

“Well, least now you know how overindulgence feels, I guess.” 

“Sucks.” 

“Ya think?” 

Faye and Spike poked their heads into the third or fourth alley down the street. Spike was looking significantly less green, if still pale, and was moving with some of his natural grace again. Faye still wasn’t sure he’d be much use if they ran into serious combat, but they were in a part of Tharsis that was pretty well-lit and well-traveled. The worst they’d seen so far was a couple of drunks yelling belligerently over half of a sandwich. 

“Seriously, Spike, what were you thinking?” Faye asked as they moved to the next side-street. No sign of Ed yet.

He sighed. “Honestly? Don’t know. It’s like…” he trailed off, looking away. When he looked back at her, he shrugged.  

“Like what?” 

He shook his head. “You think Ed knows?” 

“Knows what?” 

“That I’m sorry?” 

Faye paused. “Is that what you’re worried about?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Ed’s fine, Spike.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve seen her, zipping around, her usual self. You apologized to her. There’s not anything left for you to do.” 

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

“Why, you feeling guilty or something?” 

“I mean, I did yell at her.” 

Faye raised an eyebrow. This was far cry from Spike’s earlier defense when she initially brought up the fact that he yelled at Ed. She lifted one shoulder. “You were surprised. And annoyed. It happens.” 

Spike grimaced. “Yeah.” 

They hurried down the street and glanced into another alley. Still empty of Edward. Or any sign of her wild, red hair. “Where do you think that kid got off to?” Faye put her hands on her hips. 

Spike shoved his hands in his pockets and shook his head. Faye could tell he was trying to look nonchalant, but there was a tightness around his mouth that belied his unease. She wasn’t sure if it was because they still hadn’t found Ed or because he still didn’t feel great. Probably both. 

“You said she went to get cookies, right?” 

“That’s what she said. Saw a vendor or something. Went scampering off after them.” 

“And you just let her go?” 

He frowned. “Ha. Yeah. Not like I could’ve chased her anyway.” 

Faye grimaced. “Sorry.” 

“No…” Spike paused, looking a little green for a second. Faye stepped back, alarmed, but he only burped. “...problem.” 

Faye wrinkled her nose. 

“Look, I don’t think I’m going to throw up again, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

“With your track record so far? Forgive me for being cautious.” 

Spike sighed, but he didn’t argue. 

Faye led him to the next alley. She searched the shadows for any sign of their wayward crewmate. 

“Faye…” 

There was an odd tone in Spike’s voice, one she hadn’t really heard from him before. Something that sounded very small and alone. 

She turned around and suddenly found that Spike was very close and the alley felt much too small. He was watching her, expression guarded, but there was something flickering behind his eyes. Something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. 

“What?” Faye looked up at him, her eyes flicking back and forth between his. “What is it, Spike?” 

“I…” he hesitated, eyes looking everywhere but at her. Like usual, lately. “You remember, on the bridge, when you and Jet said I needed to talk about…me.” 

“Yeah.” 

He inhaled and shivered. “Faye.” 

“Yes?” 

“What do you do when you don’t know yourself anymore?” 

Faye was blindsided by the question. “What?” 

Spike flinched. 

“No, sorry. I’m just. I wasn’t expecting that.” Faye stumbled over a reply. She was definitely not ready for Spike to come to her with any of his problems. She’d always assumed he’d go to Jet first. He wasn’t much for confiding in anybody anyway, but especially not in her. 

“You’ve experienced that feeling though, right?” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper, and she had to lean forward to hear him better. “Losing yourself.” 

Faye met Spike’s gaze. He was drowning, terrified, but he was trying his best not to let on. She licked her lips. “I, uh. Yes. A little. After the cryo.” But she legitimately hadn’t remembered who she was. It wasn’t exactly an identity crisis of the type Spike was experiencing. So could she really relate? She realized that Spike was counting on her to. 

“How did you live with yourself?” he asked hoarsely.

Faye laughed, a short, sharp bark. “I didn’t.” 

Spike’s eyes widened. 

“No, Spike, listen.” She reached out and put a hand on his arm. He didn’t pull away. “I remade myself into someone I thought I’d like because I didn’t remember who I was. It’s disorienting. It sucks. And it’s goddamn lonely. Do not do that to yourself. You hear me? Because you have friends who are here for you, no matter who you are. I didn’t. So I pushed everybody out because it felt more comfortable. Safer. But that was a lie.” 

She reached up and put a hand on the side of his face. He blinked, staring at her, but he didn’t speak. 

“Look, Spike, Jet and I don’t care how long it takes you to figure out who and where you need to be. I get it. You’ve lost your former life and that’s weird. But maybe who you were isn’t who you’re meant to be. Ok? So just take it slow. We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. And you don’t have to either. Just figure it out.” 

Spike took a shaky breath, but he didn’t look away. Faye waited.

“Faye, I --” 

“Catch that thief!” A shout interrupted them. 

Spike and Faye both whirled toward the end of the alley to see Ed rocketing toward them, arms over her head, goggles swinging from her neck, cheering and yelling. Three ISSP officers fanned out behind her in hot pursuit.

“Faye-Faye! Spike-person! Whoopee! Look, Ed’s playing tag!” 

“Edward!” Faye began, hands fisted at her sides.

But before either of them could react, Ed ran up and launched herself at Spike. Spike barely managed to get his arms up in time to steady himself and grab ahold of Ed as she wrapped both her legs around his waist and clung to him like a monkey. 

“Oof,” Spike exhaled, staggering back a couple steps. “Ugh. Ed. What are you doing?” 

Faye would have laughed at the sheer shock on his face if the situation didn’t have her completely out of her element too. 

“Looky, looky, Spike-person! Medicine!” Ed triumphantly pulled a plastic bottle of bright pink tablets out of her pocket and shook it over her head. 

“Medicine? I thought you were getting…” Spike stumbled under Ed’s flailing and leaned up against the alley wall to steady himself, since Ed didn’t show any sign of relinquishing her grip. “...cookies.” 

“Oh, well, I got those too! But Ed ate those. They’re just crumbs now.” She let go of Spike’s neck long enough to reach into her other pocket and pull out a handful of crumbs, which she scattered on the ground. 

Spike watched them with a healthy dose of revulsion. “Good.” 

“Good? Then Spike-person isn’t mad Ed didn’t save him a cookie?” 

“Not a bit.” 

“Freeze!” Flashlight beams lit up the alley as the three ISSP officers staggered up, out of breath and scowling. 

Faye and Spike did, though more out of the sheer oddity of the command rather than any sense of practicality. It’s not like they’d been going anywhere anyway. 

Ed wrapped her free hand back around Spike’s neck, her other hand still holding up the bottle of medicine. 

“Is she yours?” the lead officer asked, gesturing at Edward. 

“Uh. Yes?” Faye said. 

Spike nodded. 

Faye’s voice took on a little more confidence. “Yeah! We’re her…” she glanced at Spike, then back at the officer. “Parents.” 

Hidden behind Ed, Spike gave Faye a massive side-eye. 

The officer looked at Spike and Faye, then at Ed wrapped around Spike like a sloth on a tree branch. “Aren’t you two a bit young to have a kid that age?” He narrowed his eyes. 

“Oh, thank you officer, you flatter us.” Faye blinked at him, fanning her face with her hand. “But she’s adopted.” 

The officer stood there for a minute, staring between the two of them. 

“This is usually the part where people say she looks nothing like us,” Spike drawled. 

Faye had to work to keep the expression of surprise off her face as Spike played into her lie. 

Ed was blinking at them both wide-eyed, like she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say right now. It was the first time Faye could recall seeing Edward speechless. But at least she wasn’t saying anything to counteract her story. For now. 

The officer blinked a few more times and turned to his comrades. One shrugged. The other made a confused gesture with his hand. The lead officer turned back. “So, you’re her legal guardians, then?” 

“As legal as it gets,” Spike confirmed. 

The officer raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, don’t listen to my husband here. He likes to joke around. Right, honey?” Faye winked at Spike. 

It was a good thing Ed chose that moment to flail her arms and make Spike stagger again. It hid the expression of absolute surprise he didn’t manage to stifle. 

“Oh yeah, that’s me, the practical joker,” Spike muttered as he regained his footing. 

“That where she gets it?” The officer pointed at Ed. 

“From Spike-person!” Ed crowed. 

“Ed, darling, how about you just stay quiet and let us handle this, ok?” Faye said sweetly.

“Okie dokie, mommy!” Ed grinned. 

Faye felt something in her stomach flip-flop at the casual way Ed called her mom. It was all part of the ruse. Obviously. But her? A mother? Faye shook her head and brought herself back to the present. 

“...so maybe you can answer my question,” the officer was finishing in a gruff tone. 

“Um. Sure. What question is that?” Faye tilted her head. 

“What your…daughter…is doing with stolen pharmaceuticals.” 

“Getting medicine for daddy!” Ed cheered. 

“Ed!” Faye and Spike both snapped. 

She grinned like a madman. 

“Medicine for daddy…” the ISSP officer trailed off, incredulous. 

“For his stomachache,” Ed said softly. “See?” She waved the bottle of medicine around. “Cause he ate too much. Silly, cowboy. Should’ve known he couldn’t out-eat Edward!” 

Spike groaned and went a shade paler. 

Faye reached over and pulled the bottle out of Ed’s fingers and glanced at it. It was actually stomachache medicine. “She’s telling the truth, officer,” Faye supplied as the officer looked even more incredulous. 

“Then does anybody want to explain to me why she left a paperclip, a gum wrapper, a piece of lint, and some wire on the counter instead of woolongs?” 

“Ed!” Faye yelped. “Did you try to trade for this?” 

“Yup, yup, yup!” Ed nodded her head vigorously, her hair flopping over her eyes. 

“Kiddo…” Spike began. “You can’t…” 

“Sorry, officer,” Faye cut in. “She doesn’t have an allowance of her own. It’s all an…honest mistake.” 

“Tell that to the pharmacist.” 

“We’ll pay,” Spike cut in. 

The officer didn’t look convinced. 

Spike looked at Faye and nodded. 

She glared at him. 

He made an awkward shrug with Ed in his arms. But he was right. He didn’t have much money on him right now, if any. Faye was going to have to be the one to dig them out of this mess. She sighed. “How much?” 

“Uh…1,000 woolongs.” 

“Done.” Faye held up her card. “Who do I pay? You guys?” 

“Well. Um.” The officer stuttered. 

One of his companions gestured loosely over his shoulder. They all looked massively confused, like this wasn’t the ending they had in mind for their wild chase. 

“It’s back there a ways,” the third officer finally said. “The Alchemist’s Lair. I’ll take you.” 

The other two ISSP officers looked slightly relieved to finally have some directions. 

Spike was smirking. 

Faye gave the third officer a charming smile. “Sure thing, officer. Lead the way.” 

They left the Alchemist’s Lair a few minutes later, after a couple of confused and awkward apologies to the shopkeep. Ed was still clinging to Spike, but he’d managed to convince her to get on his back instead. Her legs were looped through his arms, her hands draped around his shoulders. She had her chin resting on top of his head, grinning. And for a moment, Faye was struck by how comfortable Spike looked with the situation. Something that just a year ago, he would’ve balked at. She hid a smile, knowing that she risked ruining the moment if Spike noticed her enjoying it. Then she remembered something. 

“Oh shit! We haven’t called Jet!” 

“Shit, shit, shit!” Ed cheered. 

A couple of people gave them weird looks from across the street.

“You shouldn’t repeat everything Faye says, you know,” Spike said. 

“Why not?” 

“She’s got a dirty mouth.” 

“Hey!” Faye protested.

“So does Spike-person,” Ed pointed out.  

Faye hid a smirk as she pulled out her phone. 

“Ok, yeah, but that doesn’t mean anything!” Spike said. 

“So Ed can repeat Spike-person?” 

“No!” 

“Why not?” 

“Because. You just can’t, ok. They’re adult words and you’re not an adult.” 

“Aw, Ed wants to be an adult!” 

“No, you don’t.” Spike rolled his eyes. 

“Adults have all the fun.” 

“Ha,” Faye laughed as she dialed Jet’s number. “We definitely do not.” 

Ed huffed and crossed her arms, making Spike have to readjust to keep her balanced. Jet picked up on the first ring. 

“Did you find her? ” He sounded out-of-breath. 

“Yeah, safe and sound, Jet.” 

There was a pause, then a hesitant question. “And the collateral damage?”

Faye waved a hand in the air. “Not much.” 

“Good.” 

“Almost got herself arrested though,” Spike added. 

“Ed was nearly a jailbird!” Ed pumped a fist in the air. 

“WHAT?” 

Faye held the phone away as Jet’s voice rang through the tinny speaker. “Yeah. But she wasn’t. Isn’t. Arrested, that is,” she clarified, glaring at Spike. She made a chopping motion across her neck with one hand. 

“Only after we paid for what she stole, though,” Spike added. 

“Edward!” Jet yelled. 

“Nyah?” 

“I thought you said there wasn’t any collateral damage!” 

“I said there wasn’t much collateral damage, Jet. Relax, it wasn’t that bad!” Faye cut in. “We’ll tell you all about it when we get back to the ship, ok?” 

Jet started to protest, but Faye hung up. She didn’t answer when her phone rang again a few seconds later. 

Spike and Ed were both grinning at her. 

“What?” she demanded. 

“C’mon, Faye, it can’t be that bad,” Spike said. 

“Oh yeah? You want to coach Ed on keeping quiet about this, or you want me to?” 

“Keeping quiet about what?” Ed blinked innocently. 

Spike hefted Ed into a more comfortable position on his back. “About the part where we lied to ISSP?” 

“Not like we haven’t done that before." Faye smirked.   

“Or the part where you decided we’re apparently married and have a kid?” 

Faye gave Spike a sly look. “It was all I could think of in the moment!” 

“You could’ve just claimed Ed as a sister!”  

“We look nothing alike!” 

“She’s adopted!” Spike protested.

Faye paused, one finger raised, then shook her head. “Fair point. But it wasn’t a total lie. We are Ed’s guardians.” 

Spike grumbled, but he couldn’t disagree. Although they’d never actually done any legal paperwork to claim Ed, her father never tried to take her back, so they’d simply assumed responsibility for her. 

“We’re just not her parents,” he clarified. “And I am definitely not your husband.”  

“Oh, like I’d actually want to be married to you,” Faye retorted. 

Spike smirked at her. “So leave that part out of the story, yeah?” 

“Damn right!”  

“What do you think, Ed? What should we tell Jet?” Spike glanced up. Ed leaned forward so that she could meet his eye. 

“Edward was playing tag with ISSP!” 

Spike laughed. “Maybe we should just let Ed tell it.”

“Yeah, and risk her saying whatever comes to mind?” Faye asked.

Ed held one hand over her heart and the other in the air, looking solemn. “Edward swears to tell Jet the bestest story ever!” 

“Let’s just make sure we embellish it with the right details, yeah?” Spike winked and Faye felt her breath catch in her throat. And though he was still too pale and she still had unanswered questions and there was still a long way to go, Faye felt a weight lift off her chest as she shook her head and laughed. 

“Ok, cowboy, but it’s your responsibility to make sure the story gets told right.” 

“Hey! It’s not my fault she--” 

Faye put her hands on her hips. 

Spike shut his mouth, face reddening. Because it was very much his fault that Ed had gotten into this mess. And though he sobered a little, there was still a wry smile tugging at his mouth as he responded. “Ok, fine. So it was me. But it all turned out ok in the end, so no big deal, right?” 

“Tell that to Jet.” 

“Psh. Ok, Ed, listen carefully. Because this time, I do want you to repeat after me, alright?” 

“Woopee! Ed gets to be an adult!” 

Spike and Faye rolled their eyes.

Chapter Text

Step One: Distract Spike

Step Two: Take him on lots of dates

Step Three: Make him notch 13  

Faye stared at the unfinished three-step plan sitting on her makeup table and frowned at the scratched-out last step. Someone once told her that making plans was helpful. That it kept you focused, organized. But what happened when the plan wasn’t working? Or your goals changed? Faye grumbled under her breath and tapped the pen on the page. 

She tried to think of a more appropriate step three, but nothing came to mind. Because she’d also been told to keep her plans simple. Realistic. Accomplishable. 

Nothing with Spike Spiegel attached to it was any of those things. The man was more complicated than the internal workings of the Bebop. Faye tapped her pen against her chin, then drew a giant X through the whole list. Who was she kidding? This would never work. She wrote a new plan.

Make Spike cooperate.

But that was the rub, wasn’t it? Because Spike never cooperated unless he wanted to. Especially lately. From yelling at Ed, snapping at her and Jet, losing control during the eating contest, and revealing a moment of vulnerability in the alley afterward, it was clear he had a lot on his mind. But what, exactly?

Fallout from the tower? Jet mentioned that he didn’t think he deserved a second chance. So was this just survivor’s guilt? Faye didn’t think that was it. Especially after Spike’s admission that he didn’t know who he was supposed to be. An identity crisis to the highest degree. The only problem was that Faye never really knew who Spike was in the past. Only who he became after Bebop. 

She needed to know more about Spike the Dragon. And she suspected she needed to know more soon, if she wanted any hope of saving Spike the Cowboy. 

“Damn it, Spike!” Faye slammed a hand into her desk. Her pen went ricocheting across the room. She swiped the list off the desk. It fluttered to the floor, halfway under the bed. “Why you gotta be so stubborn?” 

Of course, her bedroom furniture remained silent. Short of asking Spike directly, she didn’t have answers. But she would need more information before she questioned him head on. That way he couldn’t deny everything and pretend he didn’t know what Faye was talking about. 

Which meant snagging the cowboy alone more often. Asking questions, probing. Taking him down a slow path to revealing his secrets.

It was going to take time and calculation to pull what she needed from Spike.

Right now she didn’t want to spend either. 

No, right now, she needed a good, long bubble bath. Maybe with one of her romance novels. Spike might call them shallow, but at least everybody ended up happy at the end. Why couldn’t Spike just fit that mold? 

“Just gotta make everything complicated, don’t you, lunkhead?” Faye muttered as she grabbed supplies from around her room -- towel, robe, makeup bag, soap, book. 

With a last shake of her head she headed toward the bathroom.

She didn’t intend to pick up Ed on her way to the bath, but when she dropped her makeup bag in the living room and a couple of nail polish bottles rolled out, Ed begged to paint her nails. That grin…Faye couldn’t resist. 

So she found herself up to her shoulders in bubbles, perusing one of her paperbacks, one foot dangling from the tub while Ed perched on top of a crate beside her, painting her toenails. 

Faye had to admit, Ed had gotten pretty good at it and even tried her hand at painting designs and patterns with decent success. Faye hadn’t looked lately, but Ed picked a bright shade of yellow for today’s project. Faye long ago learned not to argue with Ed about color choice. After all, it wasn’t like she ran around in open-toed sandals much. So if it was hideous, she walked around barefoot in the ship once or twice to let Ed admire her handiwork, wore her boots outside, and cleaned the polish off after a few days. 

Ed was humming softly to herself as she worked and the bathroom fan whirled slowly overhead, making a squeaky sound every third rotation. She really needed to tell Jet to fix that.  Faye sighed and splashed a hand into the bath, dangling her book over the edge with the other. She tipped her head back and closed her eyes. She couldn’t focus on the story today. She didn’t know if it was because of the noise in the room, her swirling thoughts occupied by a particular dark-headed cowboy, or because something about quick and dirty sex just wasn’t doing it today. 

“Faye-Faye?” Ed piped up from the end of the tub. 

“Hmm?” 

“How do you fall in love?” 

Faye’s head snapped up, eyes opening to look at Edward. She sat on her crate, one knee up, yellow-soaked brush in hand. She grinned her trademark Edward grin. 

“Depends,” Faye said guardedly. “Why do you ask?” 

“Why indeed!” Ed chirped. “Because Edward already asked Spike-person and Jet about love. Now it’s your turn, Faye-Faye!” 

“You asked Jet and Spike about love?!” 

“Yup, yup, yup!” 

Faye flopped her head back against the tub and stared at the ceiling. She could only imagine what those two lunkheads told the kid. “Ugh.”

“Ugh? Isn’t love supposed to make you all happy and fluffy?”

“Love doesn’t always make you…fluffy. Sometimes it’s damn complicated.” 

Ed blinked. “Why?” 

Faye sighed. How did she answer that? Was Ed asking for any sort of practical purpose, or was this all theoretical? The only place Faye could think of that Ed had seen “love” was in the few romance movies she’d watched with Faye. Ed always peppered her with questions afterwards, like what kissing felt like and why people liked eating each other’s faces and did it taste good? So was this conversation sparked by that? Or her conversations with Jet and Spike?

“Ed, why do you care about love?” Faye returned with a question of her own. 

Ed blinked. “Um. Because it’s good, right?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Jet said love is caring about things a lot. And Ed cares about you guys. So Ed wants to know about love.” 

“Hmm.” 

Ed looked up from her work slyly. “Especially the kissy-kissy kind.” 

“Ed! You are way too young for that!” 

“Awwwww! Why won’t anybody tell Edward about kissy-kissy love?” 

“You asked the guys about that?” 

Ed grinned. “Well, sure!” 

Faye let her book drop to the floor and put one hand on her forehead. “Oh, dear.” 

“They said you didn’t have it.” 

Faye sat up with a splash. “What?!” 

“With Spike-person,” Ed continued, oblivious as Faye quickly sank back down into the bubbles. “They said you and Spike didn’t have kissy-kissy love.” 

“Ew! Edward, no!” 

Ed sat back, looking let down. “Spike-person said the same thing.” 

“You asked Spike if we were in love?” Faye squeaked. 

“Uh-huh.” Ed nodded vigorously. 

“And he said no?” 

“Yeah.” 

Faye felt something unreasonably hot and angry settle in her chest. He said no. The audacity! Not like she didn’t just say the same thing. Served the cowboy right. She wasn’t in love. Of course not. But maybe, just maybe, it would’ve been nice to hear Spike admit that he had feelings. Faye flopped an arm over her face. 

“Will Faye-Faye tell Ed why love is complicated now?” Ed asked. 

Faye stared at the ceiling. “Because people are complicated.”

“But why, Faye-Faye?” 

“I don’t know!” She threw her hands up, trailing bubbles through the air. “Ask Spike.” 

“Ok!” Ed started to get up. 

“No!” Faye lunged forward and yanked her back. “That was rhetorical!” 

“Then Faye-Faye doesn’t want Edward to ask Spike-person why he’s complicated?” 

“No. Definitely not.” 

“But why?”

“Because I said so, that’s why.” 

Edward slumped down on her crate, arms folded. “Faye-Faye’s no fun. Just a big grumpy-pants.” 

Faye smirked. “Can’t be a grumpy pants when I’m not wearing pants, smart-aleck.” 

Ed huffed. “What’s an aleck?” 

Faye paused. “You know? I have no idea.” 

Ed snorted. “Faye-Faye doesn’t know everything.” 

“Of course I don’t.” 

“Ed thought old people knew everything.” 

“I am not old!” 

“Yes you are. Just like Spike-person!” 

Faye couldn’t stop the snicker that left her mouth. “Spike’s not old, Ed.” 

“That’s what he said.” 

“You called Spike old?” 

“Sure.” Ed shrugged. “Just like you and Jet.”  

“You’ll change your mind when you get to be our age. We’re not that old. I mean, maybe Jet…” 

Ed scrunched up her nose. “But Faye-Faye’s like 70!” 

“Ed! That doesn’t count!” 

“Why not?” 

“I…it’s--” Faye broke off, realizing she’d been about to say it’s complicated. Which would undoubtedly be followed by why? “Look, Ed. I’m a special case, ok? Most people don’t get frozen and…forgotten…like me. So really, I’m hardly ten years older than you.” 

“Twenty four’s a long way from twelve,” Ed said. 

“Seems that way now, doesn’t it?” 

“It’ll always be that way.” 

Faye tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “One day it won’t be. Not so much, kiddo,” she said softly. Because one day you could wake up on the other side of 50 years with nothing and everything having gone by all at once. Things and people changed a lot in just a few years and they only changed faster the older you got. At some point, you stopped counting the years and everything just blurred into this crazy thing called life. Faye was starting to realize that it wasn’t that important if you were 24 or 78. What was important were the people you put in your life and the connections you made. She’d tried for so long to push those away and run loose and it ultimately hadn’t brought her satisfaction. 

It’s why Jet was so steady. Because despite being hurt, he wasn’t afraid to make connections and hang on tight. He loved with his heart on his sleeve, no matter his gruff exterior. She was starting to learn to do the same. 

But Spike? Spike still wasn’t sure what to do with himself. He was afraid of making connections. 

But why? 

Because of Vicious? 

Or Julia? 

“Faye-Faye!” Faye’s head snapped up and she realized that Ed was waving a hand in front of her face. 

“What?” 

“Faye-Faye got lost in spaaacccceeee,” Ed declared.

“Sorry. I was thinking.” 

“‘Bout what?” 

Faye debated with herself for a minute, then she decided to go out on a limb. “About Spike.” 

“Spike-person?” Ed scrunched up her nose. “Why Spike-person?” 

“Ed…does he seem…different to you lately?” 

“Different, different, not the same! Yes. No. Maybe! Why?” 

“I think he’s hurting,” Faye said. 

“He doesn’t look hurt.” 

“No. He doesn’t.” Faye frowned and stared at the wall over Ed’s shoulder. 

“Is this a hurt you can’t see? Is this the love kind of hurt?” 

“Huh?” 

“Jet said sometimes love hurts.” 

“Well. Yes. Sometimes it does.” 

“And that’s what’s hurting Spike?” 

A picture flashed in Faye’s mind for a second, of a devastatingly beautiful, yet sad, blonde woman in black. “Maybe,” she admitted quietly. 

“So then how does Faye-Faye fix it?” Ed asked. 

“How do I fix it?” 

“Do you fall in love with Spike-person?” 

“Edward, what?” 

“If Faye-Faye fell in love with Spike-person, would that fix it?” 

“Ed, I--I don’t know!” Faye spluttered. What the hell kind of solution was that? You didn’t just…good God, the kid needed some life lessons. What had she been looking at on the internet lately? “It’s not that easy,” Faye finally said. “We can’t just magically fall in love.”

“Ok, then how do you fall in love?” 

“Well. Um.” Specifically? Or generally? How did Faye Valentine fall in love with Spike Spiegel ? Or how did people fall in love with each other? Faye decided to take the general route. “Sometimes it’s smooth. Sometimes you meet somebody and things just click. Sometimes it takes a long time and you have to try really hard. And sometimes you just…fool around and fall in love.” 

Ed was quiet for a very long time, staring up at the ceiling, as if processing the information. Faye wasn’t sure what to make of that. Ed was usually quick to respond and quick to ask questions. This quiet contemplation was unlike her. What was she thinking? Then she looked down with a big grin. ”Ed’s good at fooling! Can Edward fall in love?” 

Faye face-palmed. That’s what the kid was thinking? “Not ‘till you’re older, kiddo.” 

Ed threw her paintbrush down and crossed her arms. “Aw, no fair! Everybody tells Ed to wait until she’s older! What if Ed wants to do all the things now?” 

Faye laughed. “Ed, darling, trust me. There are some things you need to wait for.” 

“That’s what Spike-person said, too.” Ed crossed her arms and legs.

Faye stared down at her half-painted toes, bright yellow smiley’s staring upside down at her. “Huh, well, for once the lunkhead actually gave good advice.” 

“He did?” 

“Yes.” Faye held one hand out of the bath, her pinky extended. “But you have to swear to never tell him I said that, ok?” 

Ed looked at Faye’s pinky, then she stuck out her own and interlocked their fingers, laughing. “Ok, Faye-Faye’s secret is safe with Edward!” 

Faye smiled and they shook on it.

Chapter Text

She found him on deck, going through his moveset again. Unlike the first time she watched him, it was nearly dark, and she couldn’t see his expression clearly, but the lines of his body bespoke frustration. She could see the muscles in his bare shoulders pulled tight across his back. Faye leaned against the edge of the hanger and watched. She didn’t light a cigarette or move. She didn’t want him to notice her yet. He was moving better now, without the drag of injury.

And yet. There was something different about the way he moved. He made each pose precise, clean, and moved into the next one without hesitation. 

But he didn’t flow. 

There was something rigid about the way he transitioned that was so utterly alien that it almost made Faye wonder if Spike had been replaced by a robot. But no. She saw the sheen of sweat in the streetlights, the curve of a scar under starlight, the fuzzy halo of his hair by moonlight. 

This was Spike. 

But it wasn’t Spike. 

She let her heels click on the deck as she walked up. He paused his routine and watched her come toward him, expression guarded, feet apart, hands raised. 

“Hey, cowboy.” 

“Romany.” His words were clipped, as was his breathing. She watched his chest heave for a few moments. Then she walked over to the deck railing and leaned back against it, crossing one ankle over the other. 

“What are you doing?” Spike asked. He relaxed his posture. 

“What, I can’t enjoy the fresh air?” 

Spike snorted. “You don’t enjoy fresh air, Faye.” 

“Oh yeah? Who says?” 

“Too dark.” Spike waved a hand vaguely overhead. “Can’t get a tan by starlight.” 

Faye smirked. “Maybe I came out to look at the stars.” 

His eyes glittered as he looked at her. She tried not to notice. Tried not to make a sappy comparison between his eyes and the stars. “Sure. And I’m just out here taking a stroll,” he said. 

“Hmm. Looked to me like you were practicing your…” she waved a hand around. “...martial art.” 

“Jeet Kune Do.” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s called Jeet Kune Do.” 

“Not karate?” Faye asked sweetly, fluttering her lashes. 

Spike rolled his eyes. “No.” 

Faye smiled. 

“You didn’t come out here just to tease me, Faye. What are you really here for?” 

“Maybe I like watching you move.”  

Spike froze and Faye had to laugh. He looked so much like a deer in the headlights, mouth half-open for a second before he shook off his surprise and closed it. 

“You know,” she continued, “I’ve never really asked you about Jeet Kune Do before.” 

“Um. No. You haven’t.” Spike raised one eyebrow.  

“What’s it for?” 

“Huh?” 

“What’s it for? Concentration? Strength? Preparing for a hit?” 

Spike’s spine went ramrod straight, his eyes turning dark and his brows drawing down. “Preparing for what now?” His voice was low, rough. 

Although there was a tiny part of Faye telling her that this was dangerous territory and she was riling the dragon, she took a deep breath and took a leap. “A hit. C’mon Spike. I know what enforcers do.” 

His lips drew into a tight line, eyes narrowing. He looked away for a moment, arms coming up and crossing over his chest. “No. It’s not how I prepared for a hit.” 

Faye’s eyebrows went up. She hadn’t been expecting him to answer. And certainly not in that many words. She’d been expecting him to dismiss her or storm off or even yell at her to mind her own business. Definitely not to talk. 

“So, you did prepare?” Faye ventured. 

Spike sighed. “I was the Dragon’s best. Of course I prepared. You can’t kill a man blind. That’s how you get killed.” 

Faye’s eyes widened. She’d never heard Spike say this many words about his days in the Dragon and she wasn’t sure what to do with it. Why was he talking now? Was he taking her and Jet’s advice to talk about himself? Did he feel like he’d explode if he didn’t get some of this off his chest? God only knew he’d been bottling it up long enough. “So how…um…?” She stumbled over a response. 

Spike’s expression softened slightly. “Carefully. With a lot of spying and intel and mapping escape routes and practicing until pulling a trigger was as easy as breathing.” 

“Oh.” Faye didn’t know what else to say. 

“My routines were for calming down afterward. Centering myself. Practicing my hand to hand. For being like water.” 

“Like water?” Faye raised an eyebrow. 

“Fluid. Adaptable. Water is smooth and deceptive one minute then raging and powerful the next. It’s fast and calm, able to change its appearance and technique to face whatever comes at it. That’s the idea of Jeet Kune Do. To be like water. To adapt and overcome.” 

“So you’re never caught off-guard,” Faye said. 

Spike sighed and leaned on the railing beside her, but he didn’t look at her. He faced outward, staring at the winking lights of the Tharsis skyline. “That’s the idea.” 

“Were you ever caught off-guard, Spike?” she asked quietly. 

He inhaled sharply. She could practically feel tension radiate from him in waves. “Once or twice.” 

“How about now? Do you feel more prepared?” 

Spike was quiet for a very long time. So long, Faye figured he wasn’t going to answer. But he didn’t leave. He didn’t move. He just breathed, his grip on the rail white-knuckled. “No,” he finally said. 

Faye felt her breath catch in her throat. Did Spike just…admit to something not being ok? “Spike, I…” Faye trailed off, not at all certain where to start with his admission. 

“Don’t know what to say? Yeah. Me neither.” 

Faye paused. She felt like she was standing on a tightrope and a tip in either direction would send her over the edge. Only there wasn’t a safety net. She was in entirely uncharted territory. How was one supposed to deal with Spike when he admitted to having doubts? To feeling something? Faye realized she really had no idea and she hadn’t quite come prepared for this conversation. 

But she didn’t want it to stop. “Spike. What if you teach me?” 

He turned his head to look at her, mis-matched brown eyes meeting soft green. He was frowning. “Teach you Jeet Kune Do?” Something almost like a smile lit his eyes for a second, then he shook his head. “You don’t have the patience.” 

“Oh, like you do?” 

“Hmm. I had to learn patience. It…didn’t come easy.” 

“Well, there you go. Teach me patience.” 

Spike’s gaze slid sideways until he was staring at Faye full-on. “I think my ears are broken. You want me to teach you patience? Did you just hear yourself, Romany?” 

Faye grinned. “Yeah. Why not?” 

“Because we’re probably two of the least patient people in the galaxy, that’s why. Shit, Faye, I don’t have the time or the will to teach you patience.”

Faye laughed. “Then teach me Jeet Kune Do instead.” 

Spike tilted his head, watching her thoughtfully. Faye felt something inside her flutter. Had Spike caught on? Did he realize what she was doing? Did he recognize her distraction technique? Waa be about to refuse?

Spike took a deep breath and slowly relaxed himself, shoulders dropping, hands releasing the rail. “Ok. Why the hell not?” 

Faye grinned. 

“But I’m not an easy teacher, Romany.” 

“Oh yeah? Try me.” 

“It’s your heels,” Spike said. He watched Faye, arms crossed, body tilted, one hand to his chin in thought. 

“My heels?” 

“Your boots. Take ‘em off. That’s why your stance doesn’t look right. You’re too unbalanced on those things.” 

“What? I can stand perfectly well in these, thank you! I’ll have you know I once ran a whole --” 

“I don’t care where you ran in them,” Spike interrupted. “We’re not running now, are we?” 

Faye glowered at him.  

In answer, Spike gestured at his own bare feet. 

“Ok, but you fight in shoes, too.” 

“Uh, yeah. Shoes. Not heels.” 

Faye’s scowl deepened. 

“C’mon, what have you got against taking off your boots? Scared of a little space dust?” Spike scuffed the deck with one foot. 

“No. I mean, c’mon. That’s ridiculous.” 

“Ok. Then take off your boots.” 

Faye sighed theatrically. “Fine!” She slipped out of her boots and set them aside, praying it was too dark for Spike to see -- 

“Hey, what’s that on your toes?” 

Faye looked down. “Oh, what the hell!” She yelled. Beneath the sheer pink of her stockings, she could see the ridiculous little yellow smiley faces that Ed painted on her toenails. But that wasn't the worst of it. No, the worst was they were glowing. Faye’s toes stood out like tiny stars of their own in the dark. 

Spike was trying and failing to hold back a laugh, one hand over his mouth. “What did you do to yourself, Faye?” 

“It wasn’t me!” she huffed, stomping one foot. “It was Edward!” 

Spike snickered. 

“I didn’t know they would glow!" 

Spike sobered and spoke with a completely straight face. “Sure.” 

Faye opened her mouth to retort, but Spike closed the distance between the two of them to come stand behind Faye. She paused, breath caught in her throat. 

Spike leaned over her shoulder, stretching his arms out along hers so that he could help position her. “Alright, twinkle-toes, on guard.”  

Faye felt herself flush and bit back the retort that leapt to her tongue because Spike was entirely too close for her to get the words out without him feeling her agitation. In fact, it would be a wonder if he didn’t feel the sudden rise in her body temperature. She felt him against her back, a solid, warm presence, and for a second, she could imagine that he was going to embrace her, not shift her arms and legs into something resembling the on guard position. 

“It’s fluid like water, not limp like noodle,” Spike murmured in her ear. 

Faye jumped, feeling all the heat rush to her cheeks. There was no way she wasn’t blushing. 

Spike laughed and it was the purest sound Faye had heard from him in a while. He nudged her left foot with his. “Farther back. That’s right. Now push your right foot forward.” 

Faye slid her other foot forward until she rested in the on guard position Spike showed her earlier. Spike held onto her wrists and moved her arms up, positioning them at the ready. 

Faye moved with him, enjoying the feel of his bare arms against hers, the slide of muscle across his chest against her back. 

“Now, shift your weight to--” 

A sudden, crazy thought popped into Faye’s head and, without warning, she stiffened her left arm and rammed it back, trying to catch Spike off-guard with an elbow to his ribcage. 

Spike shifted so fast she nearly didn’t feel him move. He deflected her elbow with his arm and a grunt as he pushed her momentum off to the side. He hooked one leg through hers and pulled. Suddenly off-balance, Faye twisted and toppled with a surprised yelp. Spike caught her before she hit the deck, balancing her in the crook of one arm, almost as if he were dipping her in a dance. 

She smiled up at him. 

He frowned down at her. “Nice try, Romany, but it’ll take a lot more than that to catch me off-guard.” 

“But I was fluid like water, huh?” Faye was breathing hard, staring up at Spike. His mouth was very intriguing, half-quirked in a smile he was struggling to hide. His face was close to hers. 

He shook his head. “Not even close, Faye.” 

She lifted her head, eyes meeting his. His eyes flashed across her face, settled on her mouth for a moment. His tongue flickered across his lips. 

“Spike?” 

“Yes?” 

In answer, Faye wrapped one arm around Spike’s back, holding on to him. She could feel the rise and fall of his ribcage against her arm as he breathed. He wasn’t even trembling from where he held her at such a severe angle. 

Faye’s breath sped up as she pulled in closer. 

Spike shifted his arm to narrow the distance between them and brought his free arm around behind her, his fingers slipping into her hair. His eyes flickered between hers with a speed that was nearly dizzying. His mouth parted slightly. 

Faye closed the distance until her nose brushed his. She could feel the warm pant of his breath on her face. He closed his eyes. She leaned in and --

“Spike-person and Faye Faye, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” A triumphant voice sang out behind them as the patter of bare feet rattled down the deck. 

Spike stiffened as if a bolt of lightning struck him and immediately released Faye. She tumbled to the deck with a shriek. Spike whirled on the approaching figure of Ed, arms raised over her head, waving wildly as she continued to sing and caper down the deck. “Spike-person and Faye Faye DO have kissy-kissy love! Edward knew it!” 

“Edward!” Spike shouted. 

Ed froze, staring at Spike, a mere arm’s length away now. 

Faye sat up, watching, wide-eyed. She could see the way Spike stood, stiff, uncertain, brows drawn down. He was angry. No. Not angry. That wasn’t quite it. 

He was afraid. 

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G?” Ed asked, head tilted, eyes flicking uncertainly back and forth between Spike and Faye. 

Spike inhaled. 

“No!” Faye hurriedly interjected. She picked herself up off the deck, rubbing her elbow, where she’d struck it when she fell. “No, Ed. Not kissing.” 

“Not…kissing?” Ed’s face fell. “Aw, no faaairrrrr! Ed thought she was super sneaky this time. Ed thought Faye Faye and Spike-person were fiiiinalyyyyy going to kiss! Smoochy smoochy!” 

Spike’s gaze flickered back to Faye, but he didn’t answer. Was he leaving this up to her? Faye licked suddenly dry lips. She’d been going to kiss him. There was no denying that. But if she denied it too adamantly to Edward, would Spike believe her denial too? Would she? She glanced over at Spike. 

“Ed…” Faye said carefully. “Spike was teaching me Jeet Kune Do.” 

“Not dancing?” 

Spike almost smirked at that one. “No, kiddo. Not dancing." 

“Oh.” Ed kicked one foot against the deck. “Well, damn it.” 

“Edward!” Spike and Faye both said. 

Ed looked up, surprised. “What?” 

“Where’d you hear that?” Faye asked, realizing as soon as she said it that the question was silly. The whole crew had let slip countless words in front of Ed. 

Ed shrugged. “Jet says it when Bebop Bebop doesn’t do what he wants.” 

Spike shook his head looking half-incredulous, half-amused. 

“Is that another grown-up word?” Ed asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously. 

“Well, sort of.” Faye spread her hands. 

“DAMN IT!” Ed shouted. 

Spike’s almost smirk became a smile. 

Ed crossed her arms and glowered at Spike and Faye, daring one of them to correct her. Neither did. As the silence stretched between them, Ed’s frown slowly faded, to be replaced by a trademark grin stretching her features. “You mean, you aren’t going to stop Edward?” she blinked. 

Spike and Faye traded a glance. “Not this time,” Spike said. 

Ed’s eyes got big and then she cartwheeled across the deck. “Whoooopeeeee! Ed gets to say adulty things!” She flipped around a few more times and then ran back toward the hanger. “Ed’s going to tell Jet!” she yelled as she disappeared back inside. 

Faye facepalmed. Spike put his hands on his hips shook his head, an amused grin on his face. 

“We’ll never hear the end of this one,” Faye said. 

Spike shrugged. “Well, she had to start somewhere.” 

Faye shook her head. 

Spike walked over to where he’d hung a t-shirt off the deck rail, picked it up and started pulling it over his head. 

“Lesson’s over?” Faye asked. 

Spike’s head popped out of the top of the shirt. “For now,” he said. 

She crossed her arms and looked out over Tharsis, feeling frustrated. Ed had the absolute worst timing! Just when she thought she had Spike! She’d been this close to kissing him. For real! And he’d been leaning into it! Faye huffed and grabbed her boots off the deck, then headed toward the hangar. 

“Faye.” Spike’s voice stopped her in her tracks. She turned. 

He was standing outlined against the Tharsis skyline, gangly, fluffy-haired, bright-eyed. 

“Yeah?” 

“Were you…just now…you were going to kiss me. Weren't you?” 

Faye slung her boots over one shoulder as she turned. “I'll let you figure that one out yourself, lunkhead,” she called back as she walked into the hangar. 

Chapter Text

“I am not taking the Swordfish down there.” Spike crossed his arms. 

In orbit above Mars, Faye looked out the bridge windows at the crater below. “Why? Scared of a few clouds? It doesn’t look that bad to me.” 

“Hah. It’s not clouds I’m worried about. It’s the locals.” 

“What’s wrong with the locals?

Spike snorted. “In Deseado? Everything.” 

“Well, either way, pard, somebody’s got to go down there,” Jet said from his seat at the navigation controls. 

“Didn’t say I wasn’t going down there,” Spike said. “Just said I wasn’t taking the Swordfish. ” 

“Oh, I see,” Faye cut in. “You want us to take our ships because your precious little Swordfish might get dirty?” 

“No. Because my Swordfish will get vandalized, if not wiped for parts. But your craft,” he pointed between Faye and Jet, “are just dumpy enough they might get by without raising eyebrows.” 

“Hey!” Jet and Faye both yelled. 

Spike held his hands up. 

“My Redtail is not dumpy!” Faye protested. 

“Yeah, but it’s no Swordfish. ” 

“Jet, is he bragging about how his monocraft is better than ours? ‘Cause that’s what I hear.” 

“I didn’t say that,” Spike said. 

“That’s what I heard, too.” Jet frowned. 

Spike sighed loudly. “No, I said my ship is gonna get hijacked if I park it in Deseado. Yours might not.” 

“Might ?” Faye interjected.

“Yeah. Might. Nothing’s sure in Deseado.” 

Faye tilted her head. “You talk like you’ve been there before.” 

“I have.” 

“Oh yeah? When?” 

“Years ago.” 

“What for?” 

“Syndicate business.” 

“What kind of --” 

“Faye!” Jet barked. 

Faye looked up at him. 

“Leave it be,” Jet rumbled. 

Faye opened her mouth as if she was about to protest. 

“I said, leave it be.” Jet glared at her. 

Spike shot him a grateful glance. 

Faye stomped her foot, but she agreed. “Fine! Fine.” She scowled at Spike. “Then keep your secrets.” 

“Thanks. I will.” Spike shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“You can take Hammerhead,” Jet interrupted before Faye could get another word in. 

Spike shook his head. “Aw, Jet, you don’t wanna --” 

“I said what I said, Spike. The longer we stand up here arguing about whose monocraft we leave down there, the further away our bounty gets. I’ll keep an eye out from up here. He tries to leave the crater, I’ll peg him. You guys get down there and find him.” 

“Yeah, fine, Jet,” Spike grumbled. 

“Whatever.” Faye gave Spike a side-eye. 

They started to leave the bridge. 

“And Spike?” Jet called after them. 

“Yeah?” 

“You lose the Hammerhead, I’m docking it from your pay!” 

“Jet!” Spike yelped. 

Faye cheered. 

“Both of you!” Jet shouted. 

Faye’s jaw dropped mid-cheer. 

Spike laughed. 

Faye punched him in the arm.

“You’ve really been here before?” Faye kicked a can down the dirty street stretching in front of them. It wasn’t really a street. More like a drunken alley winding between leaning buildings. It had once been paved, but was now so broken and cracked it resembled cobblestone. The can rattled off into the shadows only to get met by a sharp crack and a spark as a bullet sent it flying into the air and hurtling farther down the street. 

Faye jumped and sidled a bit closer to Spike. 

Spike didn’t react. He gave the rusty padlock on their docking bay a skeptical look as he yanked on it for good measure and spun the code several times. Not that the bays on Deseado were safe, per se, but it was better than leaving the Hammerhead out in the open. Even if it did cost woolongs.

Spike turned and shrugged. “Once or twice.” 

“By choice?” Faye raised an eyebrow. 

“Ha. No. I was…” He went silent for a moment, eyes scanning the street, one hand surreptitiously reaching toward his coat. Then he visibly relaxed and let his hand fall into his pocket. “Tying up lose ends,” he finished. 

Faye frowned. “The Dragon had ends in this dump?” 

He smirked. “More like beginnings. Where do you think most of the Red Eye supply comes from?” 

Faye looked around, wide-eyed. 

“C’mon.” Spike grabbed her arm and led her down the street. He spoke in a low voice as they walked. “Cops here are useless, ‘cause they’re all on someone’s payroll. Anyone who gives a damn gets shot. Thugs turn a blind eye, gang wars keep the few honest heads indoors, and anybody else dumb or tough enough to eke out a living in here is one badass son of a bastard. Or monumentally stupid. They make good drug suppliers.” 

Faye walked beside him with a startled expression. 

Spike gave her a grin. “What? You thought my past was all sunshine and roses?” 

“No. I just...you were really close to this stuff, weren’t you?” 

“I was Dragon. I was right in the damn middle of it.” 

“Do you regret it?” Faye asked. 

Spike grimaced and looked away. The word yes floated on his tongue. And yet. Not everything. Not Julia. Certainly not her. Not even moments of his friendship with Vicious. Nights where they were alive and running the streets of Tharsis, ruling pool halls and dance floors, sitting up late on the piers drinking and staring at the stars, planning a future where the three of them held Tharis is a comfortable reign of terror. 

But that never happened, did it?

No, it all fell. 

To Vicious’ cold insanity, Spike’s hesitation, and the burning light of love. Maybe Vicious had been right. Maybe love was weak. Maybe allowing himself to love Julia had been a mistake. 

No. 

Mistake or not, he wouldn’t trade a single moment of it for anything. 

“Spike?” 

He looked down, pulled out of his reverie and into Faye’s bright green eyes, staring at him from under cocked brows. 

He opened his mouth, tilted his head, inhaled, and answered. “Not all of it.” 

A tiny shiver ran up Faye’s spine. Perhaps she tried to hide it. He tracked it nonetheless. She broke their gaze and looked around the street, rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

“You cold?” Spike asked. As usual, Deseado’s weather equipment wasn’t working, which left the city trapped in a sluggish limbo somewhere between it's-about-to-rain and I-need-a-coat.  Spike tugged his lapel, as if to offer Faye his jacket. Half of him had no idea why he made the gesture -- if she accepted, there’d be no hiding his shoulder-rigged Jericho. It’s not like anybody would care that he had the gun. Everybody on Deseado carried. People would expect his jacket to hide a weapon. But advertising a gun on Deseado was like carrying a red flag into a bullfight. It marked you out as a high-value target.

Faye looked up at him, surprised. She gave him a little half-smile and a shrug and shook her head. “I’m fine.” After a second, she added, “Thanks, though.” 

Spike nodded, relieved. Not because his Jericho would stay hidden, but because he was suddenly aware of how extremely familiar a thing it was to share clothes with Faye Valentine.  He didn’t just go offering jackets to women willy-nilly. In fact, the only woman he’d ever lent his coat to was -- 

He breathed in sharp. No. Don’t go there. She’s gone.

“Hey, Spike, did you?” 

He looked down at Faye, realizing he’d missed the context for her question. “Uh. Did I what?” 

She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “What you got in your ears this time? Cotton?” 

“No. I was thinking. Sorry.” 

“Oh, great. Spike Sp--” 

“Shht!” Spike slapped a hand over her mouth. 

Faye went wide-eyed. Then her brows dipped down and he knew he only had a moment before she started struggling. 

“Be wise of you to quit saying my name out loud around here,” he hissed as he took his hand away.

“Oh, then what am I supposed to call you? Lunkhead?” Faye snapped back, but she kept her voice low. 

“Sure. Whatever works.” 

Faye’s eyebrows went up. 

Spiked leaned closer. “Deseado’s just disconnected enough that they might still think I’m dead. I’d rather not announce otherwise.” 

Faye’s expression was hard to read, but there was something incredulous there. Something intrigued. Something…afraid? 

Her tone was light when she answered though. “Yeah. Sure. Ok. No names.” 

Spike stepped back and nodded. “Now what were you trying to ask me?” 

“Huh?” 

“Before. You asked if I did something.” 

There was a little half-pause before Faye nodded. “Oh, yeah. Um. I asked if you ever did Red Eye.” 

Suddenly Spike’s vision was filled with a memory. 

Mao, angry, sitting behind his desk, a small case with a used dispenser in it sitting on the desk between them. Spike standing by the chair across from the capo. Mao had offered him the chair. He hadn’t accepted. 

“And you are absolutely certain you didn’t sample the product?” Mao steepled his fingers. 

Spike’s first instinct was to lash out in denial. He felt anger twist up in his chest. This was ridiculous! He’d never sampled the product. Ever. Even though there were others who did. All the time. Claimed they had to test the quality. But anger wouldn’t get him out of this. In fact, it would only make him look guilty. So he took a deep breath, pressed the tips of his fingers together, centered himself, and answered, calmly, “I’m sure.” 

Mao gestured at the dispenser. “Then how do you explain this?” 

Spike let a half-smile play across his lips. “Well, sir, I would say that you might want to get a fresh dispenser if you want to scare your thief into confessing.” 

Mao’s eyebrows went up. 

Spike pointed. “There’s rust on the applicator. There. Your thief might be an idiot, but he’s not stupid.” 

Mao cocked his head, watching Spike intently over his fingers. Then he smiled. “Very good, Spike.”

Spike inclined his head. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Go. Fetch me a fresh one, then come back here and look intimidating. I have more men to question.” 

Spike’s answering smile was wolfish. “Yes, sir.”

“Hey! You’re doing it again!” Faye’s hand whisked across his vision, startling him. “What’s going on up there?” 

He blinked and took a half-step back. He shook himself. He thought he’d gotten rid of most of the memories. But being back here, in this place, with Faye’s questions... He exhaled and pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Thinking again?” Faye asked. 

“Something like that.” 

“You ok?”

“Yeah. Just a headache.” He waved her away. 

“You’ve been getting a lot of those lately. You sure you’re ok?” 

“I’m fine,” he stressed. “Let’s just catch our bastard and get out of here.” 

“Ok. Sure.” Faye dragged the words out as she looked up and down the street. “But where do we find him?” 

“Oh, that’s easy. He’s Black Cat.” 

Faye raised an eyebrow. “Black Cat?” 

“Yeah. Local gang. They're pretty low-tier, but they were on the Dragon payroll back in the day. Our bountyhead was their runner back then.” 

“Huh. And how does that tell you where he is?” 

“He’s on the run. He’ll go to ground. I know where the Black Cat safehouse is.” 

“What makes you think he’ll go there?” 

“He’s an idiot. He’ll go there.” 

Faye stared at him, incredulous, like half of what he’d just said didn’t make sense.

Spike shrugged and pointed East. “Look, it’s either that or wander around and ask the locals. I’d say we check the safehouse first.” 

Faye sighed. “Fine.”  

Spike grinned. “Good. Then follow me.” 

Faye fell into step behind him. As they walked, Spike scanned the street. There weren’t many people out and about in Deseado during the day. Most of the residents would come alive when the light faded. The few people in the streets were harried and quiet, half-running with their heads down -- the rare folk who weren’t neck-deep in criminal activity, trapped in a world where they didn’t belong. A couple of scrawny kids kicked a half-deflated soccer ball on one corner. A pack of feral dogs fought over a bloody scrap in an alley. Spike didn’t look too close and hurried Faye past before she could either. 

It was sometime later when he said, out of the blue, “I never did, you know.” 

Faye looked up at him and blinked in confusion. “What?” 

“Red Eye. Never did it.” 

“Oh.” There was something in Faye’s voice that almost sounded…disappointed. 

“I watched Vicious do it once,” Spike said quietly. “That was enough for me. It was a hell of a time.” 

Faye shuddered. “I can…imagine.” 

“Yeah. I got out of there fast. Played dumb. Insisted I had nothing to do with it. Mao believed me, mostly because it was obvious Vicious was the one with his hand in the product. I let him take the fall for all the clean up.” 

Faye watched him closely, but she didn’t say anything. 

Spike found himself continuing, for some reason. “Four of our guys just…” he waved a hand in the air, then drew it across his throat. “Vicious was covered in blood, head to foot. When he finally did resurface he looked like a monster out of a horror flick. Tried to come to me for help. I put my foot down and made him face Mao alone.”

“And Mao didn’t punish him? I thought the Syndicates were really into the whole eye for an eye thing.” 

“Ordinarily? They are. I have no idea what Vicious did to earn a pardon on that one, but he wasn’t punished near as severely as he should’ve been. Just taken off active duty for a few weeks. Had to pay some death tolls, I think.”

“Death tolls?” 

Spike grimaced. “It’s a Syndicate thing. You kill another member, you get docked. In the rare case they had family, you owe it to them. You don’t have money to pay, they find something to take from you or some task for you to perform until they’re satisfied.” 

“Huh.” 

They fell silent. There really wasn’t much else to say. So they just walked. 

Right about the moment Faye opened her mouth to ask another question, Spike stopped. Faye almost ran into him.

They were standing in front of a ratty brick building, canted so far to one side that there were wooden beams propped between it and the street, holding one wall up. The frosted glass window in the front once had gold lettering across the top, but between the bullet holes, spiderweb cracks, and iron bars, it was impossible to make out what it said. A single door was set into the wall beside the window, thick metal, painted black. There were suspicious dents peppered across its surface. 

Faye wrinkled her nose.

Spike resisted the urge to smirk as he said, “We’re here.”

Chapter Text

“I put it in a hangar, Jet! A hangar! How was I supposed to know--” 

“Spike!” Jet interrupted, his voice tinny over the phone. “Relax. It’s not your fault. I get it. I kind of expected this to happen. Not prepared for it, but expected it.” 

“Yeah, well, Hammerhead’s inoperable and wouldn’t you know but they’re all out of MONO computer drives. Bounty’s in holding, but who knows if they’ll let us get him out. Hell, the cops might let him go before we can get back and collect.” 

There was a heavy sigh on Jet’s end. “Well, I don’t have parts on hand. I’m going to have to --” 

“WHAT?” Faye shouted at the phone. 

Spike put his free hand over his ear. 

“You mean we’re STUCK here?” Faye fisted her hands. “In this dump?” 

“Faye…” Spike glanced around. A few shadows moved at the end of the street.

She didn’t even pause for breath. “Jet, if I have to stay here one minute longer than --” 

“Faye!” Spike grabbed her arm and ushered her closer to the hotel he’d picked out once they found the busted Hammerhead and determined they’d be in Deseado longer than intended. Long shadows were beginning to streak between the buildings. It wouldn’t be long before the spooks they didn’t want to play with came out. 

“What?” Faye hissed. 

“Go get us a room. I’ll finish with Jet, yeah?” 

She stuck out her tongue. “Who died and made you king?” 

“No one yet,” Spike growled. “And I’m trying to keep it that way. Now shut up and get us a room.” 

“Why me?” 

“‘Cause you’re the one with the woolongs.” 

“Oh, great. Thanks. Send me into the lion’s den. I’ll probably end up like the Hammerhead, stripped for parts.” 

Spike felt something dark rear it’s head inside him at the insinuation. Faye actually flinched from his expression before he got it under control. He covered the phone with his hand and leaned down, lowering his tone. “I wouldn’t be sending you in there if I thought it wasn’t something you could handle. Besides, I’m not taking my eye off you.” 

“Oh, gee, that makes me feel so--” 

“Safe.” Spike interrupted. “Yeah. Now get in there, Faye.” 

Faye glared at him and growled all manner of nasty things under her breath, but she walked into the hotel. Spike followed a few paces behind, stopping just inside the door so he could finish up the phone call. 

He uncovered the phone and held it back up. “Jet, so help me God--” 

“Trouble in Deseado, pard?” Jet sounded bemused. 

“There’s always trouble in Deseado. That’s the fucking problem.” 

Spike could fairly hear Jet’s eyebrows go up, but the older cowboy didn’t comment. 

Spike continued. “Just hurry up, get those parts and get back. Got it?” 

A slight pause, then, “Ten-four, Spike-o. Watch your six down there.” 

“I intend to.” After a beat, he said, “Faye’s too.” 

There was a sharp inhale from Jet. “Give me eight hours, Spike. I’ll be back before you know it.” 

The room was tiny. Even for Deseado. There was just enough space for a rickety desk, a straight-backed wooden chair with three legs, and a single bed. 

Well, double bed, if Faye was being generous, but it was going to be a tight fit no matter how she looked at it. 

“No,” Spike said flatly beside her. 

“Oh, come on! It’s not like I had a choice!” Faye protested. 

Spike narrowed his eyes. “Don’t feed me that bullshit.” 

Faye huffed and crossed her arms. “Then bring your own damn woolongs next time! And a sleeping bag, while you’re at it!”

Spike scowled. “Oh, there won’t be a next time. Trust me. But there’s no way you can tell me this was the only room left in the hotel.” 

Faye shrugged. “Believe what you want, but I’m telling the truth.” 

“Or maybe you just want us in the same bed.” 

“As if.” Faye worked very hard to keep the devilish smile off her face. She really hadn’t planned it…but it’s not exactly like she was going to complain, either. There was a part of her that was secretly pleased. “Go ask the front desk if you don’t believe me.” 

“Yeah? I will.” Spike yanked open the door, then turned and pointed at Faye. “You stay here.” Then he slammed the door and stomped down the hall. 

Somebody down the hall threatened to shoot his feet off if Spike didn’t quit tromping around, but it didn’t sound like Spike even deigned them an answer.

He took long enough getting back that Faye started to worry. Just about the time she decided she was going to go find his ass and drag it back to the room, no matter how much he tried to scare her about Deseado, he showed up toting a couple of take-out containers and a six-pack of beer.

“Where the hell have you been?” Faye demanded as she let him into the room. 

“Getting dinner. Where else?” 

“I thought you went to the front desk to try to prove me wrong.” 

“Yeah. Well. Did that too.” 

Faye grinned smugly. “And was I lying?” 

Spike rolled his eyes and tossed her one of the take-out containers. Faye barely managed to catch it without spilling it. The lid popped open and she saw a mess of noodles and beef inside. It actually smelled…good? She pulled the lid back some more and gave the food a suspicious once-over. 

The corner of Spike’s mouth quirked up as he set the other container and the beer on the desk, then leaned back against it, crossing his long legs. “You can eat it. It’s safe. Trust me.” 

“Oh, like I’d trust you. You’d probably give me indigestion for fun.” 

She thought she caught a grimace before Spike popped one of the tabs on the cans of beer and tossed back a long sip. He set the can back on the desk. “Food poisoning’s no joke around here. Gotta know what you’re buying and from who. I’ve still got a few contacts. The food’s safe.” 

Faye eyed him warily. “Contacts and woolongs, apparently.” 

Spike snorted. “There’s always palms to be greased in Deseado. I came prepared.” 

“So you bribed someone for our dinner.” 

“No. I paid the man for our dinner. And asked him very nicely.” Spike shifted and his jacket fell open just enough to reveal his Jericho. 

“I thought you said he was a contact!” 

“He is. And I trust him about as far as I can throw him.” 

Faye stared at Spike, incredulous. “Then how the hell is this safe?” she demanded, thrusting her container toward Spike. 

Spike shrugged. “I can throw pretty far, Faye.” 

She glared at him. 

He picked up his own box and popped the lid on another pile of mouth-watering noodles. With exaggerated slowness, he picked up his chopsticks and put a large bite in his mouth, making eye contact the whole time and slurping the noodles. 

“Ok, ok, I get it!” Faye sat down on the edge of the bed and grabbed her own chopsticks. She had to admit, she was hungry. And the noodles did look tasty. She took a tentative bite. To her absolute surprise, the food actually tasted good! “Seems like your contact’s still worth his salt.” 

“Told you.” They finished up dinner and a few more beers in companionable silence.

“You do enough staying up all night as it is!” Faye gestured at the bed. “If you think one of us should be on watch, you sleep,” she jabbed Spike in the chest, “and I’ll watch.” 

And here he’d been thinking they might make it through the night without another argument. But Faye wasn’t buying his excuse of staying up to keep watch. He’d known she wouldn’t, but he tried anyway. “You don’t know this place like I do,” Spike shot back. “Go to sleep, Romany.” 

“What, are the creeps on Deseado bullet-proof or something?” 

“Not any more so than the creeps anywhere else. Why?” 

“Because I know how to point and shoot. Anybody comes through that door, I’ll put a bullet through his brain.” 

Spike looked surprised for a second, then he smirked. “Aw, you do care.”

Faye smiled, mock sweetly. “The bullets are for my creeps, not yours. You get to handle your own creeps. Now get in bed and lay down.” 

Spike crossed his arms. “No.” 

“Don’t be so stubborn. Put your ass in the bed!” 

“You’re not my mother, Faye.” 

“Yeah? Well if your mother had to fight you this much to get you in bed as a kid, I pity her.” 

Spike’s brows drew down even further. “Don’t worry. She only had to do it for eight years.” 

“Eight? Why, were you so unruly she up and left?” 

Spike lost all expression. “If you want to describe riddled with bullet holes and lying in a puddle of her own blood as up and left, sure.” 

Faye gasped, hand going to her mouth. “Oh. Spike. I’m --” 

“Don’t you dare say it!” He shouted, pointing a finger at her. It shook and he realized his whole body was shaking with cold, hard rage. He’d heard the words enough. Automatic, rote words with no real feeling behind them. Everybody said it when they found out. Said it with warm, sympathetic half-smiles and good intentions that never amounted to anything. “You weren’t there. You aren’t sorry.”

“Spike, I --” 

“Don’t say you understand. Don’t say you care. Don’t say you’re here for me. I don’t want any of it! I don’t want your pity!” 

Faye stomped a foot, hands fisting at her sides. “That’s what you think this is? All of this? Everything that’s happened in the last few weeks? You think it’s pity ?” Her voice rose with each word until the last one was nearly a shriek. 

“I don’t know what it is, but I --” Spike began hotly. 

Faye cut him off. “This is not pity, you blind bastard! And maybe if you focused on someone other than yourself every once in a while, you’d know that!” 

Spike paused, at a momentary loss for words. Not pity. Then what? The other options terrified him and he didn’t want to think about it. So he let himself ride out the anger, even though he felt something else pulling at him -- was that regret? -- for yelling at Faye. “Yeah, and if you paid attention, maybe you’d realize I just want to be LEFT ALONE!” 

“Alone? That’s what you want? Then I’ll show myself to the door!” With that, Faye whirled on one heel, stomped to the door and started throwing back locks. 

Spike found himself across the room in four quick strides, barely aware he was moving until he was right behind Faye. He grabbed her by the shoulder and whirled her around, backing her against the door, one hand in a death grip on her wrist, the other braced on the door by her head. Their faces were only a few inches apart. Faye’s wide green eyes stared up at him. 

“You will not,” he said, voice very low. 

Her breath came fast and he swore he could hear her heartbeat in her chest. God, was that fear in her eyes? 

“And why is that? Are you going to stop me?” Her voice was steady. 

“Obviously.” 

“I’ll scream.” 

“Go ahead. No one cares around here. There won’t be any white knight riding to your rescue.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

“No. That’s the truth.” 

“Then why are you holding on to me?” 

“Because you seem damn set on walking out that door.” 

“Yeah, well, somebody wanted to be alone. So let me go.” Faye yanked her wrist, but Spike held on tighter. “Let go, you bastard!” 

“Faye --” 

She squirmed. 

He didn’t let go. He couldn’t. He couldn’t let her walk out that door. She didn’t know what she’d be up against on the other side. “Faye, listen --” 

“Oh, we are way too far gone for that. Now let. Me. Go.” She twisted her wrist again, but didn’t break Spike’s grip. “Don’t make me play dirty, Spike.” 

He sucked in a breath. “Faye. Don’t. You know I --” 

He caught the gleam in her eye a second before she brought her knee up, aiming between his legs. He brought a leg up and blocked hers, then spun her around, twisting her arm up behind her back, pinning her across the shoulders to the door with his other arm. 

She screamed.

He braced her against the door and leaned forward. “Faye, really, I can’t let --”

She caught him by surprise, slamming her head back into his nose. Bright stars flashed in his vision and he shouted, but long training kicked in and he didn’t break his grip. Before he could recover from the first hit, the heel of Faye’s right boot came down on his foot. 

He hissed as bright pain raced up his leg. 

Faye thrashed, and this time, managed to get her arm free. Her hands went for the chain on the door, scrabbling at it. 

Spike growled and grabbed her up in both arms, bodily lifting her off the floor. He whirled back toward the room, carrying her to the bed. 

Faye shrieked, pounding him with her fists, kicking his shins with her heels. 

“Dammit, woman!” He threw her onto the bed. “I’m trying to protect you!” 

Faye froze, halfway twisted onto her back, breathing hard, staring at Spike with her mouth open, eyes wide.

Spike felt utterly alien under her stunned gaze and had to fight not to freeze himself. He sniffed and held a hand to his nose. It came away bloody. 

“Wait…what?” Faye spluttered. 

The words came out halted, stilted, like he was saying something in a foreign language. “I’m trying to keep you…from getting torn to pieces, Faye.”

“Spike.” Her posture relaxed and there and something softened in her gaze. Something that broke through the flashing anger, even though her next words were still sharp. “You know I can take care of myself. I don’t need your protection.” 

He grimaced, looking around for something to stop the blood from his nose. He could feel it dripping into his mouth. But there wasn’t much in the hotel room. Especially not a convenient box of tissues. He tipped his head back. “I know.” It came out more like I dow , slurred in blood. “But you don’t know Deseado. It’ll rip you apart. And much as you annoy the shit out of me, I…” he brought his head back down to look her in the eye. “I don’t want that.” 

He tipped his head back up and put a hand to his nose again so he didn’t have to see her reaction, but not fast enough. He saw the expression of surprise, of relief, of intrigue on her face. 

“That’s very…” Faye trailed off. The bed creaked as she stood up. She walked over and brushed a finger along Spike’s free hand. “Thank you, cowboy,” she whispered. 

Spike tried to pretend that his half-step stagger was because his foot was still throbbing from Faye’s assault. 

Faye put a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Hey. Whoa. How about you sit down?” 

He didn’t resist as she gently spun him and pushed him down on the bed. She leaned over and moved his hand away from his nose. She sucked a breath through her teeth. “Spike, I…um.” She cleared her throat. “I may have broken it.” 

“My nose?” By dose?

“Yeah. It’s, um, swelling. Like a lot.” 

“Great.” 

“I think I can fix it.” 

“No.” Spike shook his head, then regretted the motion. A pounding headache was building behind his eyes and the movement only made it worse. 

“It’s really not straight.” Faye reached toward his face. He tried to swat her away, but he wasn’t fast enough. Then her hands were on his face and he flinched. But he didn’t push her away. 

She grimaced. “Sorry.” 

Spike braced himself with his hands on the bed. Whatever Faye was about to do, it wouldn’t be pleasant, that was for sure. Faye gently probed his face, running her fingertips over his nose, around his eyes. “You remember when I called you a raccoon that one time? Well, you had nothing on this.” 

Spike groaned. 

“I mean, I can’t say for sure yet,” she said quickly. 

He sighed heavily. 

“But it might. Uh. Yeah. You know.” 

“We’ll find out in the morning,” he muttered. 

“Yeah. In the morning.” Faye put her hands on either side of his nose. 

Spike’s eyes widened. “Faye, wait --” 

There was a twist from Faye’s fingers, a grating crunch from Spike’s face. 

“AAAHHHH!” Spike shouted.  

When he could see through the tears that blurred his vision, Faye was standing there with bloody hands, grinning. “Well, it’s straight again,” she said. “And if what you said earlier is true, no one’s coming to investigate your ear-shattering scream.” 

“I did not scream,” Spike gasped.  

“Suit yourself.”

Spike reached up tentatively and touched his nose. It did feel straight. And he could breathe a little easier. 

“Now, let’s see if there’s anything we can use to stop the blood.” Faye stood up and went into the tiny bathroom attached to their room. She flicked on the light. “Ugh! Does anyone ever clean this place?”

“Doubt it,” Spike said. “Don’t use the water.” 

“But you…” 

“Don’t. Trust me. That’s what I got those for.” He gestured at the last of the beers on the desk. 

“I can’t clean your face off with beer.” 

“It would get the blood off.” 

He heard a loud sigh from Faye before she returned from the bathroom with a towel. It was ratty at the edges, but it was relatively clean. She handed it to Spike. “Here.” 

“Thanks.” He folded an edge of it and pressed it to his nose.

Faye stood beside him with her arms crossed. “How’s your foot?” 

“Uh.” Spike paused. In all the chaos, he’d nearly forgotten his foot. He moved it back and forth. “It’s fine.” 

“I didn’t break that too, did I?” 

“Don’t give yourself too much credit.” 

“Yeah. Well.” Faye punched Spike lightly in the arm. “Next time you want me to keep me safe, how about you just tell me instead of assaulting me?” 

“If you’d just listen, I wouldn’t have to resort to force.” 

“Force? That was straight up violence, Spike! You tried to break my arm!” 

Spike felt something twist unexpectedly in his stomach. A hint of worry. He hadn't been trying to hurt her, but he had been rough. He’d been acting on pure instinct, moves ingrained in his mind from the time he’d been a teenager. Had he hurt her? 

“Faye…” 

“Hmm?” 

“Did I…” he paused, feeling like a literal weight was holding the words in his throat. He forced them out anyway. “Did I hurt you?” 

She leaned over so that she was in his line of vision and brushed his hair off his forehead. “No. You didn’t.” 

Spike felt relief flood him. He shivered. 

“Now, go to sleep, cowboy. If anybody tries to walk through that door, I’ll shoot ‘em. Promise.” She leaned down and brushed a kiss across his forehead. 

Spike froze, Faye’s kiss like an electric shock against his skin. He hadn’t been kissed since…well, in a very long time. And he certainly hadn’t imagined it coming from Faye. Not until… 

“Faye,” he whispered.  

She brushed his hair back again. “Not now, cowboy. Maybe when your face isn’t bleeding.”

He felt disappointed. And afraid. And not at all sure what was going on. Except that his head hurt, his nose hurt, his foot hurt. And Faye Valentine had just kissed him.

“Don’t think about it too hard, lunkhead. You might hurt yourself.” Faye pulled back with a mysterious smile, as if she was privy to Spike’s thoughts. She sashayed over to the door and started shoving locks back in place. Spike eased back onto the bed until he was propped against the headboard. He’d have to sit up at least until his nose stopped bleeding. And his head stopped spinning. And it felt like he could breathe again. He wasn’t entirely sure all of that was due to his broken nose.

Faye turned the main light off. The room was plunged into darkness until Spike’s eyes adjusted to the dim light seeping in underneath the door and the cool blue neon filtering through the crooked, broken blinds on the window. It was enough to illuminate Faye as she curled into the windowsill, the glint of her pistol balanced across her updrawn knees. 

He fell asleep despite himself. 

And didn’t even wake up when Faye came to sit against the headboard beside him sometime in the early hours of the morning, propping his head against her shoulder and running her fingers through his hair. Nor did he notice when she leaned her head against his and dozed off. 

Chapter Text

Faye drummed her fingers on the armrest of her chair in Bebop’ s living room about a week after the Deseado incident. Spike sat across from her on the couch, most of the bruising on his face faded. There were still a few yellow spots around his nose, making his face look splotchy, but it was a helluva lot better than the morning after, when he looked like he’d been sucker punched by a freaking bulldozer. 

Faye smirked to herself. She felt simultaneously proud and guilty about what she’d done to Spike’s face, but it wasn’t entirely her fault, right? He had grabbed her and pinned her against the door. Call it instinct, call it anger, but Faye couldn’t take that standing still. 

“C’mon Faye,” Spike drawled, putting his hands behind his head. “Any day now.” 

Faye shot him an annoyed glance, then she snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! You have to tell us the time you were most afraid.” 

“What?” Spike’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He tried and failed to maintain his nonchalance as he brought his hands back down and occupied them with straightening his tie. 

“The time you were most afraid,” Faye reiterated.

“I’m not telling you that!”

Faye smiled devilishly. “You have to. It’s the rules.” 

“Do not.” 

“Aw, are you afraid?” Faye needled. 

“Of you? Never.” Spike gave her a withering look and tilted his head at Ed, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor at the end of the coffee table. “But there are children present.” 

“Ed is not a child!” Ed protested. 

Faye didn’t look apologetic at all as she shrugged. “Rules are rules, Spike. Shoulda thought of that before you picked truth.”

“Like I’d pick dare with you in the room!” 

“You wanna change your decision?" Faye fluttered her eyelashes at Spike. 

“No taksies baksies!” Ed yelled at the same time Spike grumbled, “This game is rigged. I want to play Go Fish.” 

“But we always play Go Fish.” Ed rolled her eyes. 

“No, sometimes we play…” Spike paused, flummoxed. 

“Go Fish?” Faye suggested dryly.

“We could play poker,” Ed suggested innocently. 

“No!” Faye and Spike countered at the same time. 

“Nyah, why not?” 

“Because no one wants to bet against you, Ed,” Spike said.  

“Nobody on Bebop Bebop ever wants to play with Ed.”

“That’s ‘cause you always win.” Faye rolled her eyes. 

Ed stuck her tongue out. 

“We’re playing with you now,” Spike pointed out. 

“Ed can’t win at Truth or Dare, Spike-person!”

“Sure you can. You’re the only one at this table who will tell the truth and take a dare.”

Ed perked up. 

“So, since you’ve won the game, how about we play something else?” Spike suggested. 

“Hey! We’re not letting you off the hook that --” Faye began. 

“Spike! Faye! Where are you?” Jet’s shout came from somewhere deeper in the ship. 

“Uh-oh, Faye-Faye, Spike-person, sounds like you’re in troubles!” Ed giggled. 

Spike rolled his eyes. 

Faye held one hand up, mimicking a flapping mouth. 

Spike laughed. 

Jet’s boots clomped down the hall and stomped into the living room, bringing with them Jet and his trademark scowl. 

“So, here you are.” He glared at the room. 

“Yeah. Here we are,” Spike drawled. “What’s got your jumpsuit in a knot, Jet?”

“What’s got my jumpsuit in a…?! Rgh.” Jet put his head in his hand. He looked back up, his face a perfect picture of restraint. Except for the vein bulging near his temple. “We’re out of food, that’s what’s got my jumpsuit in a knot! Among other things!” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper. “Because someone,” he glared at Faye, “seems to like using the grocery list as a place to practice writing love poems instead of going shopping with it.” 

“Love poems?” Ed tilted her head at the same time Spike and Faye both lunged for the piece of paper in Jet’s hand. 

Jet was quick on the draw and held it out of reach. 

Faye went beet red. “It’s not a love poem, Jet, let me have it!” 

“If it’s not, how come you want it so bad?” Spike countered. 

They both kept trying to reach for the page. Jet held Spike off with his metal hand while he kept the other (still clutching the list) out of Faye’s reach. 

“Would you both sit down and stop acting like children ?!” Jet shouted. 

“Spike-person and Faye-Faye are children! Whoopee! Just like Ed!” Ed waved her hands in the air. 

Spike and Faye glared at Jet, then each other, then Ed. Spike flopped onto the couch and took a sip from the beer bottle at the edge of the coffee table, as if he hadn’t just been jumping around like a fool. Faye perched on the arm of her chair, crossed her arms, and glared at Jet. 

“Look, I get it, ok?” Jet started in a much calmer tone. “We’re all getting on each other’s nerves. After Deseado…” he glanced at Spike and Faye who both very pointedly looked away, “we’ve all been on edge. And stranded. Again. But the Hammerhead’s almost fixed and we should be able to haul out after a couple days. So bear with each other just a little longer, then we’ll be back out in the stars and taking bounties.” 

“Back to losing money, you mean,” Spike grumbled. 

“Not if you and Faye don’t lose the bountyhead again,” Jet shot back. 

Spike opened his mouth to retort, but he shut it, surprisingly, without saying anything. Jet wasn’t wrong, per se. It had been him and Faye out on the last few failed bounties. But it wasn’t his fault! Trying to wrangle bounties while keeping Faye safe on Deseado wasn’t easy. It’s not like he could pull miracles out of thin air. Staying alive in that crater was miracle enough, much less wrangling their reward out of the corrupt Deseado cops. In the end, their bounty had higher friends than Spike thought and he’d been released on a technicality Spike hadn’t managed to turn in their favor. 

“...so, that’s why you’re both going shopping,” Jet finished. 

“What?” Faye jumped up as Spike tuned back into the conversation, realizing he’d missed something important. “You want me to go shopping? With him?” Faye pointed at Spike. “Jet, you know the last time that happened, I nearly got kidnapped and the lunkhead didn’t do anything to help, right?” 

“Hey! I rescued your ass!” 

“Only after I got dragged off and tied up!” 

Spike opened his mouth to retort, but Jet interrupted. “Enough! Both of you. I get it. But I need you out of my hair.” Jet gave everybody a warning glare to ward off any bald jokes. Ed giggled. “And both of you need to stretch your legs.”  

When nobody argued, Jet finally relinquished the list to Faye. “So take that, use the grocery side, and bring us back some food.” 

Faye turned red and crumpled the list in her hands. “Why were you going through my trash can?” she hissed. 

Jet hooked his thumbs through his belt loops. “Not me. Blame Ein. He brought that scrap to me on the bridge.” 

“Ein?” 

“Good dog!” Spike cheered. 

“You shut up!” Faye snarled. 

“So, who you writing to, Faye?” Spike asked, a spark in his eye. “Anyone we know?” 

“Ha. As if.” Faye rammed the piece of paper into her pocket. 

“Want a proofreader?” 

“Only if you want me to redecorate your face!”

“Nobody’s doing any ‘redecorating’ around here!” Jet declared. He crossed his arms and glared at Spike and Faye. “What you two are doing is taking that list and going to the store. Unless you’d rather sit here in a get-along shirt?” 

“A wha--?” Spike asked. 

“Nevermind.” Jet waved a hand. “Just get down to the store and get us some food. I’m starving and there’s not a crumb left on this old trawler. I can’t finish the Hammerhead on an empty stomach.” He pulled another piece of paper out of his pocket and held it out to Faye. “Oh, and I can’t finish her without these, too.” 

Both Spike and Faye scowled, but Faye grabbed the parts list too. “Fine. But do I have to take him?” She jerked her head toward Spike. 

“Hey--” 

“You’ll want to,” Jet called over his shoulder as he left the room. “Some of those parts are heavy.”

“Look, I can’t make somethin’ outta nothin’. You want the parts, you gotta wait. I gotta machine this in-house and that takes time, lady.” 

Faye scowled down at the wiry mechanic half-buried in a deconstructed engine dangling from a harness in his shop. 

“You want a drive core for a Hammerhead, yeah?” the mechanic reiterated. 

“Yeah.” 

“That ain’t somethin’ I just keep lyin’ around these days. That ship’s not top a’ the line anymore. I can make it, but I’m neck-deep in work here.” He gestured to several other ships and parts crowded into the bay. “I’ll get it to ya, just not right now.” 

Faye huffed. “Fine. How long?” 

The mechanic scratched his head. “Day after tomorrow? But it’s gonna cost ya.” 

“How much?” 

“Hundred thousand.” 

“Hundred-what?” 

“You heard me.” 

Faye rolled her eyes. “Give me a minute.” She stomped out of the bay onto the street to where Spike stood balancing a precarious pile of packages, food, and parts. He looked surprisingly calm for the situation. 

“Well, what’s the prognosis?” he asked. 

“This guy says he can at least machine it. Hundred thousand, two days at the earliest.” 

She thought she saw the faintest spark of unease pass across his face, then Spike whistled.

Faye crossed her arms. “Who knew the Hammerhead was so hard to find parts for!” 

“It’s an old ship. They gotta make that stuff on demand. It’s probably not mass-produced anymore.” 

“That’s what the mechanic said.” 

“Just tell him yes.” 

“At a hundred thousand? Spike, I don’t have that kind of money on me right now!”

Spike shrugged. “It’s Jet’s ship. Jet can fork over the woolongs for it. Ask him if he wants payment up front. Long as he says no, tell him to machine the part. Nothing lost if we don’t pick it up, but we’ve got a part at the ready if Jet says yes.” 

“Isn’t that a loss for the mechanic?” 

“If he doesn’t tell you to pay up front, he expects someone else will buy it later. No harm, no foul.” 

“You seem surprisingly nonchalant about this whole thing.” Faye narrowed her eyes. 

“Not my money. Besides, these packages are heavy. Faster we find a part, faster I get to put ‘em down. Arguing with you isn’t going to help.” 

“Fine,” Faye eyed him suspiciously. 

“If you start something, I’ll drop everything,” he said. “Some of this stuff’s breakable.” 

“Don’t you dare.” Faye shook a finger at Spike, but she was smirking. She headed back to the mechanic’s shop and returned a few minutes later looking pleased.

“He agree to make it?” Spike asked.

“Yeah. And at a discount, too.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“I reminded him he looked a lot like a bounty I saw posted a few months back. Small fry, most cowboy’s wouldn’t waste their time on him, but he seemed willing enough to knock a few off the asking price in exchange for some adjustments to the bounty board.” 

Spike raised an eyebrow. 

Faye grinned. “Edward.”

“Ah.” 

Faye pulled the list from her pocket. “Now, let’s see here, I think we’ve got everything we needed, so we should just --” 

“What’s that?” Spike asked. 

“What’s what?” Faye frowned. 

“That.” He gestured awkwardly with his head, since his hands were full. “My name. On that piece of paper.” 

Faye squeaked and crumpled the list in her hands. “It’s not your name!” 

“I saw an S-P-I-K-E in there somewhere. I might be stupid, but I can spell my own name, you know.” 

“You’re just imagining things.” 

“So I’m not stupid?” Spike plastered a grin on his face. “That’s good.” 

Faye rolled her eyes. “I never said that.” 

“So, why don’t you show me the list, make sure we really got everything?” 

“You don’t trust me?” Faye put a hand to her heart in mock outrage.

“Not even,” Spike said. 

“We got everything.” 

“‘Cept the love poem on the back.” 

“It’s not a love poem!” Faye yelled. A few passerby gave them mildly interested looks. 

“If it’s not a love poem, why don’t you show me?” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“‘Cause it’s not for you!” 

“But it’s about me.” 

Faye huffed, but she didn’t say anything. 

“So I’m right,” Spike needled. 

“Right, wrong, does it matter? C’mon, let’s just get back to the ship.” 

Spike watched her carefully around all the packages, eyes bright with amusement. He had her hot and bothered and he knew it and she wanted to wipe the smug smile right off his face. Only problem was, he really was right. His name was on the paper and she’d been stupid enough not to make a new list before leaving the Bebop. But with Jet practically shoving them out of the ship, it’s not like she’d had time to rewrite it. Right? 

Faye tried to pretend that the heat in her face was just embarrassment as they headed back to the ship, her list burning a hole in her pocket even as Spike’s eyes burned a hole in her back. 

She had to admit, she didn't entirely mind.