Disclaimer: No own Cowboy Bebop.
A/N: I know. I know. The long-ass time it takes to actually update something. For a long time I was suffering from Bebop-withdrawal, in which to my horror I couldn't write anything...well, Bebop. I must be missing some key brain lobe. Anyway...this chapter was written after I had a very close encounter of pasta with pesto sauce.
I do own: an anonymous, quiet old man who happens to be looking at a magazine at the racetrack.
"Lunch!"
"Yess!" Spike punched his fist in the air. "No more tepid soup in a cup! No more shitty take-out! What is it?"
"Well," Jet said smugly, striding in with two bowls, "Since we got all that money from that huge bounty-head...I thought I'd bring a little style into the Bebop and go gourmet." He proudly set down his new creation.
Spike looked at his steaming bowl warily. His mind went through the following processes to identify what was currently splattered on it: Animal? No. Vegetable? He hoped not. Mineral? Unlikely. Mulch and/or possibly bird shit? Yes.
Jet towered above him, looking expectant, his muscled arms crossed, a ladle in one hand. He was wearing his cooking apron, HEIL TO THE CHEF. "Well?"
Spike shrugged. "I give up. What is it?"
There was the pause of one who knows that the result of his slaving in the kitchen is about to under-appreciated. Again.
"Food," came the low growl.
"No it's not. Unless it recently passed through something."
"Spike...""Ok, ok. Um..." He prodded and scraped at the green mass like an archaeologist unearthing a hard lump that could either be pottery or fossilised shit.
"Ah ha!" he announced. "My exploration reveals that there appears to be linguini under all this green mush."
"It's not green mush. I gave you the packet. You read it."
"Did I?"
"Didn't you?"
"I can read?" Spike laughed.
"Spike! It's pesto sauce, dammit! Normal pesto sauce! It has spinach, garlic, basil, olive oil -"
The cowboy wiggled his eyebrows. "I beg to differ. It looks like goose shit. Or possibly pond scum."
Jet leaned down from his height to where Spike was sitting and thrust the ladle in his face. "Eat it. Or starve."
Spike licked his lips. "Can't we get Chinese take-out like normal people?"
"Neeeow!" Ed leapt over the couch and crouched by the bowl, where she unceremoniously let her face fall in with a gooey splat.
"I guess not," Spike said sourly. "Normal people don't have monkeys for pets." Jet shook his head. "Your choice," he rumbled.
"Ed thinksh it tashe goood!" Edward burbled. She lifted her face and both bounty hunters saw the green slime dripping off it so she resembled some primordial creature would've that crawled out of Earth's first seas.
"Hey, I asked for pasta." Spike leaned back and scratched himself. "You gave me The Swamp Thing."
"Edward, don't play with your food!"
"Edward is not playing. Edward is...THE SWAMP THING! RAWR!"
Jet sighed wearily. "Nice going, Spike."
Spike thought it was time to reassert himself. "Jet," he began calmly, seeing he would have to explain the finer points of cooking to his friend, "A pasta sauce likes this leaves something to be desired...like edible foodstuffs, and a recognisable smell. Now: meat sauce. Basically, tomatoes and meat. Spaghetti bolognese...." He quickly wiped his chin, "that's spaghetti sauce. Or carbonara, you know, cheese and bacon. Not, uh..." (cautious fork prod) "...wet compost."
"I give up!" Jet threw his hands in the air. "Spike, if we had been starving for three weeks, with absolutely no food left on this ship...and you'd already eaten all of your cigarettes and the pack," he added sharply as Spike opened his mouth, "would you eat it?"
They both turned and stared at the pasta, with its suspicious algae-like growth. Spike almost swore he saw it move.
"Uh...no."
"Figures. And I was thinking you had some sort of survival instincts."
Spike fished out his Bic lighter and lit up a cig. He jabbed it at his friend. "Hey, I have excellent survival instincts. Right now they're tellin' me: don't eat that weird green shit, Spike baby, unless you want it to crawl right back up your throat."
They stared at each other. There was an uneasy silence for a full minute.
Jet spoke first, running a hand over his head. "Spike, do you feel like...there's something missing here?"
"I know what you mean." Smoke billowed out of the cowboy's mouth. "Crab and shrimp dumplings wouldn't go amiss –"
"No, dammit. Stop thinking about food for once –"
"That's gonna be hard."
"- It just feels like...ah, Hell." Jet shrugged." It feels like Faye should be here. Right now she would've said something bitchy to us."
"Yeah." Spike shrugged back. "Life goes on, huh? By the way, I would've eaten Ein before eating that goop..."
"Nonononononono!" The Swamp Thing snatched Ein to her chest. "Edward would never let you eat Ein!"
"Heh, who said I was going to ask permission?" Spike grinned.
Ed stared at him for a long moment, with a curious expression on her face. She leaned forward until Spike leaned back, wrinkling his nose. "What's with you, Ed? Gah, you're dripping slime everywhere!"
"Spike misses Faye-Faye," Ed said in a knowing tone. There was a hint of wonder in her voice.
"Whaaat?"
"Women's intuition," Edward said smugly, licking pesto sauce off her face. "Faye-Faye told me. When women can see things men can't figure out...'Like every freakin' time,' Faye-Faye said."
"I do NOT miss Faye." Spike smoked furiously. "That shrew stole TWO of my cheesecakes. That left a large hole in my heart and I'm never going to forgive her."
Jet sat down and began to eat his portion of the pasta. "Wow Spike, you have bits of heart left? I thought it was pretty much bullet-riddled with so many holes it was non-existent."
Spike smiled grimly, looking down at his bowl. That was true. A pretty large section had been torn away when Julia left him. That hole was more or less equal to the one where his beloved cheesecakes had once been. "Yeah, that's the truth."
-------
Space horse races, Mars City Racetrack.
Faye smiled at the bookie, leaning forward to display her considerable assets and her last raggedy wad of woolongs. "I said 7000 for Star Brite. I'm a desperate bounty hunter and I have a gun in my belt. And I have PMS." She growled.
The bookie tore his eyes away from her chest, accepted the money and gave her a slip. "Ok, Mrs. Valentine." He skirted away and Faye turned her eyes to the screens where the race was about to start.
She'd been through plenty of hard times before and damn if she wasn't going to pull through this one. Geez, away from the Bebop for three weeks and you're already a poor street urchin. Get a grip on your life, Faye.
The Bebop. She curled her lip. Sure she'd been broke then, but at least it was somewhere to stay. Jet had threatened to throw her out on numerous occasions but she could see past all that: he was too much of a big softie to throw anyone out. Otherwise Spike would've been history long ago.
Spike, she thought with an amused snort. Just because he knows karate he thinks he's the hottest stuff this side of Mars. No, make that the galaxy. And what is up with that hair?
Faye narrowed her eyes as the horses began their second lap. Her horse was in more or less in the lead but was straggling. I am cursing my goddamn luck.
"C'mon Star Brite, c'mon...make me win big you stupid horse...ahh! I didn't mean that!" Faye clenched her fists as the horse dropped back another place. "I didn't mean that!"
"You bettin' on Star Brite, missus?"
Faye slowly turned around. A harmless-looking old man was leaning against the counter, leafing through a racing magazine. He had kindly blue eyes, with laughter wrinkles at their edges. With his large, callused, arthritic hands he turned the pages with surprising deftness.
"Yes," she answered, sagging. "Why? What's wrong with him?"
"Oh nothin'...if you were bettin' on him in the last derby. Garland winner, that horse. But he's a bit old now...bit lame in the knees...s'probably goin' to be his last race. I'm surprised he hasn' fallin' down."
"Ohh..." Faye groaned, "I sure can pick 'em. I lose every single time!"
The other smiled. "Tough times for all of us, missus. That horse was jus' gettin' a bit old for the track. Like all of us...jus' gettin' a bit old. Me, anyway. You're still young, missus. There's other races."
"Not anymore," Faye muttered. "I bet my last 7000 on that horse...dammit!"
"'Taint' everythin', money."
"It is if you're a bounty hunter."
The old man nodded slowly. "Cowboy, eh? Thought so. Reckless betters. They commin' here, blow everythin' they got on a wild bet, and leave with emptier pockets then before."
Faye let her breath out. "Yeah. Story of my life."
Blue eyes twinkled at her. "Don' have no home to go to, missus?"
"Hah. Maybe I once did."
"Left to run your own race?"
"Damn straight. I didn't need the other three. We weren't a family. Just a bunch of no-hopes thrown together....AAAAAH! No no no...he came 5th!" Faye slumped, her head on the bar. "Dammit." She lifted her head. "Gotta light, mister?"
A cigarette appeared under her nose, along with a lighter, held by blunt fingers. "They say these'll be the death o' me, but I'm still standin'. There ya go, missus."
Faye examined the brand. "Lucky Strikes?! These are...ancient!"
"Yalp," the man chortled, secreting them back inside some inner pocket, "Still taste dern good, though. Ain't nothin' like the taste of aged tobacco. Y'can feel the rich decades on yer tongue."
"How old are you?" Faye blew out an appreciative cloud.
"Longer then I care t'remember." There was a glint as he snapped the lighter. "I only smoke these when I'm feelin' lucky. An' you look like you can lose some luck, missus."
Faye nodded, glancing at him. There were no tricks in that open face, which was as brown and lined as a walnut. Such simple honesty and wisdom she had only seen in the faces of children.
The ancient placed the magazine back on the counter and turned to go. "S'long way back home. That track's full o' pitfalls and potholes. I best be gettin' home, afore the twilight comes." He smiled at her. "Y'should be gettin' along home too, missus. It was nice chit-chattin' with you."
"Bye," Faye muttered, watching him leave. It occurred to her that he never asked who she was, or why she was here. He seemed to know that already. And she never asked his name either.
"Weird." She slouched out of the racetrack complex with her tail between her legs and climbed in the Redtail where she stared out for several hopeless minutes before taking off and climbing through the stratosphere.
"No money," she moaned, "which means no food, no clothes, no hot showers...what am I talking about? When was the last time I had a nice, hot shower?"
The Redtail gave a lurch and changed course. Faye flailed, and scrabbled for the controls. She stared at the screen.
NEW COORDINATES INPUTED
Faye blew her bangs away from her face. "What the hell...? Gah..."
DESTINATION RE-ROUTED
"To where? From what?" she shouted. She tried to take manual control of the ship.
MANUAL CONTROL ACCESS DENIED
"Fuck!"
MANUAL CONTROL ACCESS DENIED
"Shut up!"
INCOMING VIDEO MESSAGE
"Yeah," Faye growled, "Just you show me your face you smooth son of a bitch so I can remember to bust a cap in your ass..."
Beep. "HIII FAYE-FAAAYE!"
"Wha...Edward??" She pointed. "You've done something to my ship, haven't you, you horrible little monkey!"
Edward laughed gleefully and peered out from under her goggles. "Faye-Faye should reeally update her security system. Edward got in eeaaasy!"
"Shut up, Ed. Just shut up." Faye denied any small feeling she had of possibly being happy to see Edward and pawed around in her purse for a smoke.
"You've been gone too long, Faye-Faye. It's time for you to come back so we're one again!"
"One what?" Faye snorted. "One group of dysfunctional losers? No thanks."
"Noo...one big happy family!" Ed hugged herself, grinning widely.
"Listen, Ed. We were not a family. We were nothing like a family, got that?"
Edward's grin became sly. "What is a family then, Faye-Faye?"
Faye rolled her eyes. "Um, I don't have time for this. Unlock my controls." She tried to swing left. The Redtail lurched and kept going on its new computerised path.
"Redtail can't read your commands. It only is under control from Tomato. It is bringing you to the Bebop. Ha ha! Tell me, Faye-Faye."
"Shit!" She thumped the glass. "A group of related, supportive individuals, ok? In other words, not us? They take care of each other...they don't care who you are, because it's you...it doesn't matter what you did, they'll forgive you...accept you back...um..."
"Go on, Faye-Faye."
"Well...family is how you know who you are. Having a mother and a father...it's like you know where you come from. Somewhere where you belong. Ah shit, I don't know. And neither do you." She bit her lip.
"Edward knows what a family feels like. Edward has one on the Bebop. You were once part of it too, Faye-Faye."
"Gimme a break. Spike and Jet aren't family."
"Family's family," the child hacker said simply.
"Two bachelors and a dog?"
"But Jet-person is like someone in a family. He cooks for us and cleans up after us and lets us live with him and is always there for Spike-Spike. For you, too."
Is this kid for real? "That's not family! That's just Jet!" Faye crossed her arms behind her head. "He's one of those unfortunate individuals that feel like they have to look after everybody...and help them get back on their feet. Like with Spike."
Edward smiled. "Pleeease come back, Faye-Faye?"
"No. I'm my own woman. I started out by myself and I'm ending by myself. Now get off my computer and give me my ship back."
"But Faye-Faye has no money," Edward said slyly.
"Spike and Jet have no money. They're wannabe desperate cowboys looking for an easy buck."
"Like you, Faye-Faye?"
"WHAT!? I'm not a wannabe! I have more talent in my nail then those two put together!"
"But Faye-Faye has no money," the hacker repeated in a sing-song voice.
"I can get some," Faye snapped, "Just you watch me." She gripped the controls.
"Redtail won't obey your commands," Ed said patiently. She watched Faye. "Redtail also cannot send out any help signals to passing ships."
Faye glared at her.
"Pleeease, Faye-Faye?"
"No."
"Pleeease?"
"No!"
Edward changed tack. "Don't you like money?"
Faye felt her nose tingle at sudden smell of hard cash. "What?"
"We brought in a big bounty recently, Faye-Faye. He was a doctor who was a leader in the synthetic organ black market. He was very famous..."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Biiiig woolongs. Mega-woolongs."
"How mega?"
"Sixty million."
"Sixty mil..." Faye went dreamy. "You know, Ed, I think left some of my clothes back on the Bebop."
A/N: Actually, I accidentally deleted the part onwards from when Faye met the stranger at the racetrack till the end of the chapter after working for three solid hours on it. I was like AARRRRGH NO STUPID COMPUTER. At 2 in the morning. So I rewrote what I remembered of it the next day but sadly it's not as good as the original work I was writing before it was deleted. I tried to reconstruct as best I could but what can ya do? Please R&R.