Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ The Space Between ❯ Day 1: Jet ( Chapter 1 )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Author's Note:

Guess what, I still don't own Cowboy Bebop, nor do I ever expect to change that. I also don't own the song "The Space Between", the Dave Matthews Band does; I don't expect to ever change that either.




The Space Between
LH-chan '02

Day One--Jet Black


"Careful!" warned Faye Valentine, from her position behind Jet Black in the hallway of the Bebop. "You can't do it like that. Maybe...if you turn to the side."
Jet grimaced, turning, and attempting to maneuver himself and his burden through the door to the ship's common room. He was beginning to understand why Faye was always bitching about that door; it really was too narrow.
Crouched, and turned to the side, as she instructed, he finally managed to get through the door, only to be further disheartened as he straightened up and looked forward.
The stairs down to the actual floor of the common room would be no easier to navigate than the door.
Faye squeezed around him and jumped from the top step to the floor, then moved the vid-screen off the step in front of him.
"Just a little farther," she told him; failing entirely to be encouraging.

Jet grumbled under his breath, wondering exactly where he'd gone wrong when he set up this part of the ship's interior. Everything had seemed just the right size at the time.
Of course, he supposed, he hadn't planned with carrying a full-grown man through it in mind; and that was exactly what he was trying to do.
The fact that the man in question was quite unconscious, and covered from head to toe in plaster and gauze, didn't help much either; but that was the exact condition of Spike Spiegel, as Jet attempted to maneuver him down the narrow stairs.
At least he's not very heavy, Jet consoled himself.

Nearly falling off the last stair in an attempt to step off carefully, Jet steadied himself; and, gratefully, walked the remaining steps to the battered yellow couch in the center of the room. With a sigh of great relief, he settled his partner's long frame gently onto the seat cushions.
If Spike had ever set up sleeping quarters in one of the Bebop's many compartments, Jet had never seen it, and he wasn't about to go looking now. It wasn't as though he didn't always sleep on the couch anyway.
A moment later, Faye reappeared from wherever she had gotten to while he struggled, holding an ancient looking pillow. Without meeting Jet's eyes, she propped Spike's head up with it, and then flopped down on the floor, leaning against the side of the couch.

She looks terrible, Jet thought, watching the dark-haired woman as he installed himself in the battered chair opposite the couch.
She still wore the dress she'd left in the night before, now torn and bloodstained, its frills stripped away until it was barely recognizable; half of her hair fell loose from its former elegant style, and her makeup had caked and run randomly down her face to mix with the concrete dust from the explosion.
"Faye," said Jet.
She turned, looking remarkably like a startled cat as she reguarded him, as though she feared what he would say, but was too curious to run.
"Go get cleaned up," he told her. "I'll stay with him first."
She stared a moment more, perhaps deciding whether or not to be offended, then seemed to realize that he probably had a point, and rose to obey.
Jet scowled at her retreating back in a half-hearted sort of way for a moment, before leaning wearily back into the chair cushions. It had been a long night...too long.

Perhaps sensing that whatever passed for calm aboard the Bebop was beginning to restore itself, Ein trotted out from wherever he'd been hiding, and laid down beside Jet's feet.
Idly, Jet began stroking the little dog's ears with his real hand.
First watch, he thought darkly, the old doctor's orders that Spike be monitored at all times, at least until he regained consciousness, in case of complications, replaying in his mind.
It was a long night that didn't show any signs of ending soon.

At least he seems to be doing all right so far, thought Jet, watching the rise and fall of thick bandages with each breath Spike took, through half-closed eyes.
"The damn fool," he muttered aloud.
In the back of his mind, he berated himself for being so easily convinced to go after the other man. They were partners in the bounty hunting game, but that was where it was supposed to stop. Their partnership was just a business deal, not a friendship to get attached to...they'd agreed to that when they first started together three years ago.
If Spike had some damn fool desire to go out and get himself killed...well, that was his own business.
But three years was a long time to spend without getting attached to someone.
This was, presumably, why he had paid the doctor's bill.

Jet reached across the table and brushed back a piece of green hair that had been pushed into Spike's eyes by the bandages around his head.
Really, he thought, he's nothing but trouble.

Even when he and Faye had found him on the cathedral stairs, he'd given them trouble. Half conscious and delirious, he'd tried to fight them off, raving about some woman named Julia.
Jet wondered about her, could that be Spike's mysterious past, some fight over a woman. Briefly, he wondered if he could find out about her...or this "Vicious" Faye had mentioned.

No! He didn't want any part of it. Spike was a business partner, Jet told himself, he didn't care about the other man's personal life at all.
"Damn it!" he roared at the walls. "I don't care!"
At his feet, Ein whimpered softly, gazing up at Jet with eyes that told him, quite plainly, "you're lying".
Jet glared at the far wall of the common room.
"Yeah, maybe..."


* * * *

Next: Day Two--Faye.
See You Space Cowboy...