Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Bebop Blues ❯ The cat that lived... ( Chapter 1 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

DISCLAIMER:
I do not own the right to Cowboy Bebop or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment only and will not be used for profit of any kind.

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Jet's scowl returned. It seemed that these days he could only frown and scowl. His face was like glass, cold and hard, his eyes showing only the sadness and anger that was his outlook on life. He stood in the doorway, staring at the couch, where it seemed that Faye eternally rested.
'Damn,' he thought, and a whispered echo of the thought escaped from his mouth, unbidden.
"Faye," he said, his voice soft, yet harsh. He stepped into the room, and it was as if he had taken his first step toward hell. And the first step was always the hardest.
Faye still lay unmoving on the couch, her face obscured by a magazine that she had found somewhere. Her body was almost like that of a mummy, bound and encased and buried and dead. And in truth her life had become almost a life after death. She only moved by her own will to once again play the fragile beta tape, to catch herself up in a past so long before the one that had blinded her eyes to the present.
"Damn it, Faye!" Jet punctuated his words by slamming his fist down on the low table next to the couch. And Faye's hand snaked up and removed the magazine from her face, and she sat up, but the motion was only mechanical, and her face was still empty, and her eyes merely stared.
"Damn it, Faye," he said again, his voice softening once more. "We can't keep going like this. I can't keep making enough to keep us both alive. Bounty hunters are dying out. All the criminals these days are either too big to catch or too small to bother with. I definitely can't keep doing this alone. I can't keep providing food for both of us, I'm barely getting enough for one person now."
"Then let me starve," Faye said, and from her voice, Jet knew that she really didn't care.
"No," Jet said. "No, It's not gonna work that way." Jet was crouched beside the couch, looking at the ground. He was unable to meet Faye's mindless gaze. "I'm going to keep sharing the food as long as we have any. And if anyone's gonna die, I'm going to die first. You won't die while I'm still alive."
Faye's body shuddered slightly, and tears welled up in her eyes; those eyes that stared ahead, their gaze locked forward. Water began to flow, gently, softly. And Jet, aware of the change, began to speak once more.
"Faye, I need a partner again. I know you. You bury yourself in the past, but you know that doesn't lead anywhere. Spike knew that. He was caught up by his past, and he was dead for a long time, but he wanted you to be different. He wanted you to live your life. You know who you are, and you know that knowing the past shouldn't hold you there. Come with me tomorrow."
Faye broke down then, her body spasmed with the force of her tears. And yet no telling sound emerged from her throat. Jet moved closer, and he embraced her. It was what she needed then, to know that he wouldn't leave her alone. He picked her up, and carried her in his arms, and her body was alarmingly light. He carried her into her room, and laid her down on her bed. He sat on the edge until her body stopped shaking, and her tears stopped coming. She fell into a deep sleep, and Jet stood, and he went to his own room. And he slept deeply that night.
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The morning was dark in the spaceship. It was always dark in the ship. The rooms were lit only artificially, and the electric lights were never a true substitute for the sun. There were times when Jet would disagree, and argue that the sun was too bright, that it glared down on everything, but this morning, the light would be welcome. He rose, slowly, yawning, and moved to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
Looking in the mirror, he spied his receding hairline. 'Damn,' he though 'I'm getting too old for this.' While he was brushing his teeth, Faye walked into the room. She still stared as if in a trance, but Jet knew there was a difference. The mere fact that she was moving around proved something. Jet finished with his teeth.
"We've got a bounty job on Io. The guy putting up the bounty wants to meet in person," Jet said, "I'll take the Bebop down, and we'll land on Io, so take your time. When you're ready to go, meet me in the hanger." Faye made no response, but Jet knew she had heard him. Jet sighed and walked slowly to the cockpit. He caught a glimpse of Jupiter out of the corner of his eye. A planet that man would never conquer. He brought the Bebop to rest on the moon's surface. The landing was smooth; of course, Jet had been piloting the Bebop for long enough that that was assured.

He got up and walked to the hanger. He looked at the Hammerhead and the Red Tail, his ship and Faye's, and his eyes drifted to the spot where the Swordfish should be. Even after all these months he still looked for Spike's ship. Faye waited in the hanger, standing slightly impatiently.
"Alright, follow me out," Jet said, and ascended into the cockpit of the Hammerhead. Faye did likewise with her Red Tail. The two ships flew together, the radios silent, until Caren came into view. Caren was a dusty city, like all of the cities on Io. The terraforming attempt on this moon had been unsuccessful, and it became a desert world, despite its enormous distance from the sun. Caren was one of the larger cities on Io, though on many other planets it would be considered only a medium sized town.
The two ships stopped, and landed on the outskirts of the city. Jet and Faye disembarked, and walked through the streets, heading toward the bar where they would be meeting their contact. The sand swirled in patterns on the ground, moved by the footfalls on the usually stagnant terra. A tumbleweed blew down the street. The meeting place was a bar, a small, archaic place that looked as if the designer had watched far too many of Old Earth's westerns.
Jet pushed through the wooden swinging doors, and was surprised to see that the bar was actually fairly crowded. A haze of smoke hung over the room, and swirled around in the fractured light. Two large men, eyes locked in a glare of hatred, sat arm wrestling at one of the tables. Another table was occupied by two white haired old men, who discussed the good old days over a beer. At the bar, there were four men. A brown haired man was wearing shades sat at the bar sipping a beer, and two of the other men were conversing with each other. The fourth was trying to convince the female bartender to get off work early and find a hotel somewhere.
The bar went silent as the customers' gazes drifted onto the newcomers. It wasn't a friendly silence; it was tinged with an almost tangible tension. Jet pulled out a pack of cigarettes, offered one to Faye, and lit both of them up. The customers relaxed, and resumed their conversations. Jet's eyes wandered across the room, until they met with a silver haired man with nearly black eyes who beckoned for Jet to come over.
Jet tapped Faye's arm, and pointed to the man. They walked over to the table and took the two seats that were placed opposite of him. The man pushed a photo across the table, which Jet picked up. "This him?" he asked.
"Yeah. Name's Slinger. He's a drug dealer. He grows shrooms up here, then he sells them on other planets. I've made arrangements for a meeting with him tomorrow," the man tossed a packet across the table, "Here's a map to the place, and his picture. All you have to do is take him into custody. I want him alive."
"If you've arranged a meeting with him, then why don't you just go there and catch him yourself?" Jet asked suspiciously.
"He's dangerous," the man answered, "He's probably the best shot on the planet, and one of the fastest. He's already killed one of my men. I'd rather not lose anymore, so I decided to hire some outside help."
"Alright," Jet said, beginning to stand, "We'll take care of him."
"Wait," the man interjected. Jet sat back down. "You won't be alone looking for this guy. I've hired another gun to go after him."
Jet let out a sigh, and his forehead sunk into his hand. "Figures," he said, "First come first serve?" The man nodded. "Right." Jet stood, and Faye followed his motion. They walked to the door, and Jet took one look back. A glass shattered against the wall.

The hotel was right on the edge of town. There was a small balcony, and it overlooked the desert. The desert stretched out past the horizon, into the glittering blur of a mirage that hung overhead like some mystical gateway. Jet sat on a couch, holding a pack of ice to his bluish face. "I'm getting too old..." Jet muttered. And maybe he really meant it; but the man who had thrown the punch would probably say differently, if he still had his ability to speak.
Faye leaned against the bed and stared out the window. She still hadn't pulled out of her dark reverie, her past still haunted her, but Jet somehow felt better in her company. She was different, quiet; but he could almost imagine it was the old days again. Faye glanced up, and walked toward the railing on the deck. She gripped it with both hands, leaning as far over as her balance would allow. She stared into the shimmering sunset. Then she pulled back and leaned with her arms crossed, but her vision remained locked onto the mirage. Her eyes just unfocused, lost in contemplation of the final days.
Jet rose from the couch, allowing his ice pack to drop to the floor. He walked over to the railing and stood there with her, and as they both looked out over the desert wasteland, they both saw Spike, treading his way down the path to oblivion. But, for once, the past didn't come in a painful wave. It washed over them gently, like a wave, calm, cleansing their minds.
They just stood and remembered, and eventually the sun went down, and it colors played across the sky. With the brilliant pinks, oranges, yellows, the sky was lit with a serene beauty, and silver light shone before the sun. And then suddenly, the darkness settled overhead, the colors were gone, and they were left with nothing but each other.
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Jet awoke the next morning to find Faye already up. She was carefully applying eyeliner to her lashes. Jet sat up and stretched, relived at even this small sign of normalcy. He quickly got ready, then he checked his gun over, mostly from habit. He was running on automatic now, and senses normally only given to police and criminals were beginning to take possession of his movements.
"You ready?" Jet asked, flipping the safety of his pistol off and on. Fay nodded and grabbed her gun off of a bureau.

The alley was dusty. Or, more accurately, the dust was positioned to look like a street, as the roads didn't seem to be a path, so much as a part of the desert that just happened to be between the buildings. They were early, the guy wouldn't turn up for a while, but it was always good to be early. It meant that you were nice and ready when things started heating up. Faye walked off to look around the place. She ducked down into another alley for a moment, and Jet leaned up against the wall, shoving a cowboy hat that he had bought securely over his eyes.
"You the other hunter?"
Jet lifted the brim of his hat and looked at the man that was shouting at him from a few yards down the alley. "Yeah," he said, and stood.
"It's my bounty," the man said, "I'll be collecting on this one."
"We'll see," said Jet, and his hand moved toward the gun holstered at his side.
"Is that how it is?" asked the hunter, letting out a small chuckle, "Well, an old fashioned show down it is, then." His hand drifted down toward his weapon. He stared intently at Jet, and Jet stared just as intently back. Both men were in the position to draw, but there was no movement from either. The only sound was the breeze, and the crackling of a tumbleweed blowing by.
The silence was broken as Faye hit the other hunter over the head with the butt of her pistol, and casually dragged the unconscious body into the side alley. 'Well, so much for that diversion,' Jet thought, and, after holstering his pistol, lit himself a cigarette. He slumped back against the wall.
'Clink.' The noise resonated through the alley. 'Clink.' Jet once again looked up. The newcomer was outlined against the sunlight that streamed through the opening of the small street. His boots jangled again against the packed dust that blew beneath his feet. He walked forward, and didn't stop until he was directly in front of Jet.
"Slinger," Jet said. The man nodded, his golden hair catching a glint of the sun. "I'm here to take you in," Jet said.
"I thought this'd probably be a setup," Slinger replied, "You'll leave dead, just like all the other ones. I don't take threats from the competition very well."
"Competition?" Jet asked. He lifted his arm. His gun was already in hand. "You'll be coming with us. I want to know what this is about."
"You mean you don't know? The point is to get me to stop selling my goods. They just want to get me out of the picture," Slinger explained.
"Who's they?"
"Enough questions. Are you still planning on taking me in?"
"Huh? Of course," Jet answered, "I still need the money."
Suddenly Slinger's gun was out of its holster and aimed directly at Jet's head. Jet and Slinger stood like that for a second, each with their gun trained on the other.
"Stalemate," said Jet.
"Looks like it," Slinger replied.
And then two shots rang out, and Slinger and Jet both fell to the ground. A little stream of blood flowed away from them, and whetted the thirst of the sand.
Fay ran over to Jet, her gun smoking in her hand. She bent over, and desperately shook him. Jet lay still for a moment, then stirred. He groaned moved his hand to his head, and stood.
Jet looked down at Slinger. There were two holes gashed in his chest and his head from where the bullets had ripped through his body. Startled, Jet looked at his gun. It was silent, and no smoke emanated from the barrel. He felt it. It was cold to the touch.
It was then that he noticed the man standing on the rooftop, holding a rifle in his hands. The man saw him, and he started running across the rooftops. Jet stood, and ran after the man, moving along the street parallel to the roofs. He moved toward the center of the town.
He moved in towards the middle of the town, where there was a marketplace set in the streets. There were more and more people, and, as Jet was forced to dodge and weave, he lost sight of the rooftop assailant.
He stood, bent over and leaning on his leg, breathing heavily. 'Damn,' he thought, and his eyes moved upward toward the crowd. It was then that he saw him, quickly walking through the crowd. Jet's eyes opened wide, and everything seemed to slow down. It was the same dark green hair, the same blue suit that Jet always remembered.
It was Spike.
"Spike!" Jet yelled, as he stood up and again started pushing his way through the crowd. He reached his hand forward through the crowd.
"Spike!" Jet yelled desperately as Spike disappeared into the crowd. Jet's hand dropped, and he stood there, dejected, staring after the image of Spike, still firm in his mind.

Faye found him leaning against a building about ten minutes later. He had moved all of five feet from his former spot, and his face was buried within his cowboy hat.
"Jet!" she called, as she ran toward him. She stopped in front just short of him.
"Jet?" she asked questioningly. Jet reached up and lifted his hat from his eyes. He raised his head, and looked straight at Faye.
"I saw Spike," he said, his voice strangely calm. Faye stared at him for a moment, saying nothing. "I saw him," Jet repeated.

See you later, Space Cowboy...