(no subject)

Fuck.

It isn't like he sets out to needle Faye or let her needle him; it's just the way they are. She's so fucking angry about every damn thing, like everything's his fault. All he did was go running and work out and stop by the bar for a glass of water; it's nothing that concerns her. Then again, she's always taken ownership for more than she deserves. Just the way she joined them on the Bebop, and suddenly what was theirs -- his and Jet's -- was also Faye's, and that's not right. You don't just waltz in and take over a place or all the things in it without even asking. Even Spike's smart enough to know that.

Before Beth has a chance to do her usual what's on your mind, bounty hunter? he lets out a little sigh and tugs at the neckline of his shirt. Turning to her, he covers her hands with his. "You know how we were talking about going to Mars? I think we should do it right now." It's practical for a couple reasons: Beth can still fit in the Swordfish. There's still money on his money card. Nothing here needs their attention. And it will put space between them and Faye's prying eyes which, right now, sounds real good. The way he feels tonight, he could face his father, gun drawn, without even flinching. That's the kind of mindset he needs to go back there anyhow, and once that's over and done with -- he hopes the guy drops dead -- well, then they can get the clothes Beth wants and maybe some shit for Junior, just to be prepared.

Or maybe just fucking enjoy things while they can. It's probably just Faye's general irritability seeping into his brain and he doesn't want to feel this way, but he's edgy and annoyed with himself for being that way, though he tries really hard not to show it to Beth. Tries really damn hard to keep what they have clean and separate and untainted and that can't last forever but it can sure as hell last as long as things are in his control.

Like now. Squeezing Beth's hands, he musters a smile. "What do you say? I think now's a great time of year on Mars. Whatever the hell time of year it is there."

On the Bebop

It's warm and it's quiet and it's drip-drip-drip and it's home, or at least his other home. The one he had before he woke up next to an angel.

"Jet?"

All he hears is his own voice echoing back. With a backward glance at Beth, the door closes behind them.

Click.

Man, it's quiet. Just that same damn coolant leak and the low hum of engines on standby. No Jet, no Faye (thank fuck; he hadn't even considered that), no Ed, no Ein. Just him and Beth and the Bebop and the whole solar system for a playground. And luck, luck's on their side, because Mars isn't even that far away. Peering out the main window, he points to a collection of bright lights twinkling around something dark nearby. "Outpost 12. I think we can skip it this time." Especially the casino and the door leading to it. Setting down their bags on that little yellow couch, he turns on the computer out of habit. He wants to check the headlines and make sure he's not on the front page any more. Even if he isn't, there's no way in hell they're flying into L.A.

"New York. You never got to see it. Either that or Tokyo first: whichever one you want, Slim." She's not as slim as she used to be, but he's never going to stop calling her that. "You can get baby hipster maternity clothes in New York or technopop maternity clothes in Tokyo: your pick." The concept of either makes him laugh, and he doesn't mention Syndicate maternity clothes in Tharsis. "We can get to L.A. easy enough, but I'm not going through customs there."

He probably doesn't need to elaborate. After all, Beth's even smarter than he is.