Excerpt From Chapter 10 Of Further On Down The Road (now Posted To AO3!)

excerpt from Chapter 10 of Further On Down the Road (now posted to AO3!)

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask... Pureed stuff is best for his age right now, I get that, but... well, are you sure you're feeding him the right stuff?"

Spike glanced over his shoulder at the guacamole on the table. "I mean, we made that ourselves here on the ship. Can't get much healthier than that, right?"

"No, that's not quite..."

"Nutrient-rich foodstuffs and things with protein. That's what DB's list said to strive for. Keep an eye on labels for words like 'preservative free' and 'low sodium' and 'no sugar' because apparently kids aren't supposed to have salt until they're one and should avoid sugar until they're two. What a restrictive diet, sheesh." Faye muttered, heaping some guacamole onto a chip for herself.

"Yeah, I get that," Jet interrupted. "It's just... I know you guys are excited to give him real food and you were doing separate ingredients of things day by day to make sure he doesn't have allergies... that's all great. I just... it seems odd to me to give him guacamole, smoothies, and soup."

"We don't want him to choke on little bites, Jet!" Faye reasoned. "All those things you described are either purees or a step beyond... straight liquid!" She looked over at Spike. "I think we're doing just fine. Look, he's loving it!" She pointed at Lupin's rapturous expression.

"Besides Jet, you saw the cost of baby food at the store." Spike added.

Jet looked to the ceiling thoughtfully. "True enough." He brought his gaze over to Faye. "For that matter, you ought to just keep him on the tit as long as possible."

Chapters: 5/? Fandom: Cowboy Bebop (Anime) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Spike Spiegel/Faye Valentine Characters: Spike Spiegel, Faye Valentine, Jet Black, Ed (Cowboy Bebop), Ein (Cowboy Bebop), Victoria Terpsichore, Andy (Cowboy Bebop) Additional Tags: Found Family, Adult Content, Post Series, Character Growth, Heartwarming, Emotional Growth, embracing the future, Bounty Hunters, Some Drug Use Series: Part 3 of CB Music Keeps Us Together Summary:

The crew of the Bebop has just gotten bigger! What does that mean for everyone? And how will adjusting to these new roles affect life and work and their previously established found family dynamic? There's a lot on everyone's plate now that there's a baby on board!

Pt. 3 of Music Keeps Us Together features even more character growth (literally in some cases) and a gradual shift into a new type of normalcy... making the most of life, the universe and everything!

Please note that this is a WIP and while I'm gonna do my utmost to stick to regular updates... I'm also the mother of a one year old and I have a full time job aside from that too... life is BUSY. But I love writing this and I promise to do my best to put out new chapters as often as I can! Thanks so much for your patience & understanding!

goodbye note / neglect / I thought they were with you (I’ve got a head full of chemicals, mouth full of ridicule)

"What the hell is this?" Faye demanded of no one.

Jet was gone - he'd left hours ago without telling her what he was up to but the determination in his expression had made her hopeful that he was going after Spike. Then again, he could just be on the hunt for parts to repair the ship for all she knew. He had been so angry in their last exchange... well, it was a front anyway and he let it collapse by the time their conversation had ended. Spike made everyone hotheaded it seemed, while discussion of Julia was a much cooler topic. Perhaps that was because they had no skin in her game. Except Spike himself.

Was he dead? Was he hurt? Did he need her to come rescue him again?

She'd do it in a heartbeat. How much trouble could it be to navigate without the right thruster? She'd managed well enough in the dog fight, after all.

Where was anyone? What the hell had happened since she left them on Earth?

The smiley face grinning up from the flight deck had caught her eye but slipped her mind in the wake of her uncomfortable need to relay Julia's message and then in her haste to defend the ship. She'd assumed Ed was just being goofy... standing up on the bridge of the downed ship, able to at last truly take in not just the cheerful image but the loathsome words scrawled out as well... 

Faye was midway through chainsmoking her entire pack of cigarettes by the time Jet returned. She'd found a dusty bottle hidden behind the fridge as well - at some point Spike had obviously restocked his secret stash, or else Doohan had never actually collected on the liquor. Either way, it was Faye's now. Despite having drained a significant portion of the contents, she felt frustratingly clearheaded yet still depressingly confused about what she'd missed in her absence. The lack of life on the ship was impossible to ignore... no clicking of keyboard keys, no nonsensical rhymes being sung, no dog farts or nails scratching on the metal floor, no youth to remind the others of innocence and optimism, no animal to inspire them to be responsible caretakers of another living soul.

She waited for Jet to hobble over to her position, standing vigil by a message that broke her heart, before gesturing angrily at the red paint of the goodbye note.

"What the fuck is this? I thought they were with you."

Jet scowled at her and grabbed at the bottle. Since it hadn't served to get her drunk, she let his hand close around the neck of it and take it for himself to chug.

The amount he put away on his first drink was concerning. Had he gone after Spike? Had he... found Spike?

"She left. Think the dog went at the same time. Back on Earth, back when you bailed on us too. Went chasing after her father, I assume. Asinine thing to do considering the guy could have criminal charges against him just for neglect." He took another swig and then sighed heavily.

Faye's mind was spinning. A sudden spasm of guilt seized her heart. Was this... could Ed have.... she'd been in such a manic state after her memories came back in a landslide that left her reeling. There was a vague recollection saying something to Ed... her emotions had been all over the place, her thought process focused on one goal - the goal that had driven her since waking up in this lonely future. There had been a flame of hope flickering to life within her, a desperate longing for the place she finally remembered as home - somewhere to belong, and people who cared about her. For real cared about her, not just put up with her. 

She was a fucking fool. She'd gotten herself so excited, had believed things were finally going to fall into proper place... she'd even inspired Ed to make moves of her own. It was all her fault the girl was gone. The Bebop had been a shelter for them both, had been a place where they were fed and given places to sleep and made to feel welcome. She'd thrown it all aside in a mad bid for a reality that did not exist. And she'd convinced Ed to try her luck at... at what? Tracking down some asshole who couldn't care for her like Jet did? For some jerk who didn't look out for her like Spike did? For the ludicrous words of a woman who had no right to say a damn thing, no authority to encourage such a wild departure from a stable life - even one so dangerous and destitute as the one they led here had still had more to offer than aimlessly roaming a barren countryside constantly at risk of lunar debris crashing down.

She nearly choked as she hit the filter on her latest cig. Spitting it out, she hurriedly lit another one and then, in a rare show of generosity that should have indicated to him the remorse she felt, offered one to Jet as well.

A head full of chemicals, a mouth full of ridicule... she didn't trust herself to speak.

They stood in silence, smoking and drinking, watching as the sun set on another brutal day of heartbreak and the eternal struggle to keep going.

She didn't know where Ed and Ein were. Couldn't bring herself to ask Jet if he'd found Spike.

There was an kernel of something positive in the lack of knowledge... in the chance that the ones missing were miraculously doing okay.

glass shard / vehicular accident / watch out! (they never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor)

"WATCH OUT!" Faye's exclamation came at the precise moment that Spike himself noticed the dangerous way the vehicle they were tailing began to swerve on the pavement. Cursing the inability of the other driver to maintain control, though even Spike had found it a challenge that actually required both hands on the wheel, he tried to avoid the brick wall of the buildings and shoot past the van with the blacked out windows before it could crash as it was clearly about to.

Unfortunately, he was only able to achieve half of that goal. They'd narrowly streaked past the two-story structure but the van careened madly over into their space to knock against the rear passenger tire just as Faye was able to wrangle Spike's seatbelt into position across his chest and lap. He heard the snap of her own seatbelt locking into place as the angle of the impact threw the vehicle they were driving into a roll.

Glass shattered as every window conceded defeat to the ground whenever it was their turn to meet. Over and over again they rolled as the momentum of their speeding vehicle slowed with each smash and flip. The noise was thunderous. There was nothing to do except wait for the world to stop violently spinning. Side airbags deployed almost as an afterthought as their jeep finally heaved itself to a stop. It took several moments for Spike to realize that they weren't upside down.

His seatbelt was cutting into his shoulder as he tried to turn to take stock of the situation and his passenger. Irritably, he managed to scrabble at the button until it released him from the prison it had become after likely saving his life. There was no telling what would have happened if Faye hadn't thought to strap him in, but it seemed likely that he would have been forcibly ejected from the vehicle at some point during its prolonged tumble.

Faye's hair was in disarray and glittered with glass shards. She had shards all over her face like crystalline freckles and some drops of blood were seeping out of a few spots where larger pieces must have scraped past in the tumult. Her eyes with narrowed in fury as she yanked ruthlessly on her own seatbelt until Spike reached over to cover her hands with his own.

"Hey, hey, hold on! I'll get you out," he assured her.

"I'm gonna fucking kill them," she snarled. "I don't even care about collecting their bounty anymore! OUCH!"

"Stop thrashing around!" He ordered. "If you broke anything, you'll just make it worse doing that!"

Her hands fell away from the seatbelt, relinquishing control of the situation to him, and skimmed across her still-flat stomach uneasily. Spike gritted his teeth to keep from gulping and making her nervous. Abruptly he remembered there was a knife stashed in one of her boots and he strained to rummage around by her legs until he recovered it and brought it back up to hack away at the material of the elastic restraint. It didn't give up easily, which was probably a sign of a quality product but also could have been lethal if they'd been trapped in a submerged vehicle.

Free at last, Faye twisted to scramble out of the vehicle only to discover her door was jammed shut. Spike hastily attempted his own, failed to open it, and vaulted through the broken-out window to hurry over to her side and lay down his jacket on the gaping space of her own shattered out window. Carefully, he helped haul her up and out of the wreckage. Faye was trembling by the time he got her to her feet outside, though whether it was from the adrenaline still coursing through her body or the rage that she very obviously felt, Spike couldn't tell. He looked around at the trail of debris from where their vehicle had traveled from the crash to here, and then spotted the van on its side a few yards further back. The front end was crumpled and smoke was pouring out from under the hood. One person had been launched out of the windshield and was lying very still, but the other bank robber was hanging half out the driver's side door which was ajar.

Turning back to Faye when he heard her retching, he moved to her side in concern but she waved him off weakly.

"M'fine, go cuff that asshole. Maybe grab one of those money bags too, hey? There's enough loose in the wind that a little extra missing won't draw any questions." She remarked, wiping her mouth with a shaky hand.

There was indeed quite a lot of the money the robbers had stolen billowing out of the back doors of the van. Faye's idea seemed like a good one to Spike, provided he could manage to be quick about it. He didn't know enough about cars to be sure this one wouldn't blow up with the way parts seemed to be on fire. Still, he opted to handle the bounty first.

The woman blinked in confusion as Spike yanked her roughly out of the van. "They never saw us coming," she mumbled, "until they hit the floor. We made it painless as possible, you see? The banks are the cruel ones... bleeding us to death with overdraft fees and late fees and so many bullshit charges... we just... wanted to get back what's ours."

Spike snorted. "That's the fourth bank you hit up this week. Somehow I don't think the judge is gonna be convinced you're the victim here, especially since you've been racking up murder charges left and right. You're just lucky I don't let my partner handle your fate."

"Buncha bootlickers... the system is designed to keep us all down, you fool! And here you are, doing the dirty work for the cops..."

Hauling her over to the side of the street, Spike looked down at her with disdain. "Lady, we ain't doing shit for the cops. We're doing what needs doing to get ourselves paid so we can eat. Fuck the police, and fuck you for nearly getting us killed."

collar / touch aversion / Leave me alone (you’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest)

The first few weeks on Titan had been hell. Coming down off a supremely magnificent Red Eye high that he'd managed to stretch out for days - something unheard of and very much frowned upon even by the addicts who jonesed for the drug the most - had been rough. He'd been quite literally out of his mind. Unfit for any sort of company. There were scratches up and down his arms and legs, he'd nearly bitten through his tongue, and he'd lost a significant amount of weight.

Apparently he'd been so wildly out of control - deranged, in fact - that they'd resorted to chaining him up like an animal.

The thought brought him dark amusement. He'd always told Spike that they were beasts. Killer hounds on Syndicate leashes. A hound was hardly a frightening animal though. He preferred to liken himself to a viper. Forget Adam and never mind Eve, the snake was the true hero of the tale of Eden. The controlling power, with cunning and stealth, with wicked fangs to sink into the unsuspecting flesh of prey. The Syndicate named themselves Dragons as if a fictitious beast were more frightening than creatures actually in existence. Fools. Fools for more serious reasons than something that trivial though.

They didn't approve of his fixation on strength and shows of might. They didn't approve of his desire to use terror as an intimidation tactic. They certainly didn't approve of his use of Red Eye. Unlike most who took the drug, he had always been able to will himself into a state of cool-headed self-discipline. He'd had the uncanny ability to subdue the fervor that it awoke in nearly everyone else. It had made him more lethal by far than he'd ever been before, and that was saying something considering the body count he and Spike had racked up over the years.

Chained and collared, he was sent to Titan to languish. Sent to Titan to be tormented by the mad scientists who were truly governing the goings-on of the sad, dusty little moon. He knew the dark reality of this place. The Elders had sent him to get clean, to curtail his shaping of the newer members of the Syndicate, and to take advantage of the despair of the men and women trapped on this rock. The military had and would always be a fine source of customers when it came to drugs that numbed, drugs that distracted, drugs that gave people increased speed and endurance. It was a place he could have thrived, but that was not the intent.

He had torn himself to shreds originally. On the ship that brought him to Titan, he had frothed at the mouth and drawn blood everywhere he could reach. By the time they reached Titan he had been strapped down by more restraints than were necessary. On the moon itself he was freed except for the collar. They kept him in a tiny cell where he could not stretch out and they plagued him with constant pain. Whips, brass knuckles, the collar itself revealed to be able to shock quite powerfully, and of course their fists and boots. None had any of the fighting skill of Spike, of course, which meant he could have bested any or all of his jailors if they'd given him half a chance. But their job was to break him. Physically, mentally if possibly, spiritually if he gave a shit about that type of thing.

He refused to bow to their cruelty. His own ran deeper, pulsed stronger. They were ants in comparison. And eventually the predetermined stretch of time the Van had allotted for his punishment came to an end. He was released out into the general populace for the more important mission of converting soldiers to addicts. Behind the scenes, of course, and with the mission of finding a fall guy to ensure the Syndicate was kept as far removed from responsibility as possible. It was child's play, of course, and then he was called back.

It wasn't until he returned to Mars, returned to Tharsis and to Julia, that he realized something had gone wrong.

They'd always enjoyed quite a few games in the bedroom. Julia loved to dominate. She'd often employ handcuffs, blindfolds, collars and ball gags and other ways to keep him from bringing them both to climax too soon. She got off on being in charge and he had always been exhilarated by the sheer heights of desire he could drive her to while being unable to move as freely as he'd like.

But he flinched when she brought her hands to his bare skin. Not a large reaction but not something either of them could deny having seen. To her credit, she didn't acknowledge the involuntary action beyond the blink of surprise she'd been unable to hide.

And then he discovered a deadness inside himself. Oh, he'd never been emotionally stimulated to much degree... had never been able to sympathize with the people who he was sent to hurt or kill. There had always been a piece of humanity missing from his soul and it had never bothered him in the least. If anything, it made it far easier to be who he was and do what he did. He'd seen the flashes of weakness in Spike from time to time and had counted himself lucky to not have to contend with those turbulent emotions. He experienced delight and disgust and plenty of other things, he had no need to experience the hassle of a conscience.

But there was a new emptiness within him now. He had thought himself immune to the brutality he had gone through on Titan but apparently not.

There was no more appetite within him for anything sexual. No pride in making Julia scream. No urge to find completion for himself.

Beyond that, he was now uncomfortable with physical contact of any sort. Her soft hands on his skin prickled like sandpaper and he was surprised that her palms didn't leave trails of blood to show where they'd lain on his body. Touch aversion, due to the near-constant contact he'd been made to endure by those plebeians?

How pathetic.

It ignited a fury within him. How ironic that they had been so worried about the madness a man could be driven to under the influence of Red Eye when the true danger had turned out to be their attempt to subjugate him. He found himself increasingly unsettled by his own inability to suppress his rage, and by his body's refusal to feel lust.

He knew it baffled Julia. Their animalistic union had once been a nightly occurrence whenever he wasn't on a mission. And now? He couldn't even stand to see her.

He had sat up in bed while she slept, discontent, and found he was unable to feel even the faintest stirring of longing for her. It was a slice of himself that he was not prepared to let go of yet. The thirst for this woman had been a source of such carnal pleasure for years... and now, to have to give up physical coupling just because there was no urge whatsoever? It was not by his choice and that made him bitterly upset.

Days passed in a haze of mounting frustration. Spike had been gone on another assignment and the Van had refused to put Vicious himself back to work yet.

She came to him in the darkness of the night, likely assuming that their first few attempts at joining together again had gone awry solely because he'd been gone for a while. She came to him gently at first, then tried to be commanding. He burned with the need to meet her demands, with the desire to be in charge of his own body's cravings. He was trembling, seething, at the block that existed between his previous hunger and his current... absolute lack. It went beyond a void because he could still not stand to have her touch him.

"Leave me alone!" He erupted at her when she approached him, nude and brandishing a crop.

Her eyes had flashed at him. She licked her lips once, not in a sensual manner but to give herself a moment of recovery.

"Why?" She implored.

(you’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest)

But he did not say these thoughts aloud. He chose to chastise her instead.

He sneered at her. "I do not need to offer you any explanation. I do not need you at all. Our time together is over. Find someone else to be your plaything as you seduce and bribe and cajole your way to the top. I will not suffer your presence in my company any longer."

Once they'd had similar goals. To carve a path to the Van itself and wrest authority of the Syndicate for themselves. They had designs in mind, subterfuge and blackmail and backstabbing. It wouldn't do to blaze a trail there while leaving ruin in your wake - the route Spike would no doubt take if he'd any mind for the future and for assuming control. Spike, for all his capabilities and cleverness, was not inspired to take responsibility of his own life let alone a powerful crime syndicate like the Red Dragons. Spike had always preferred being directed where to attack. He was a hurricane force that would do well as Vicious's second in command, rampaging wherever Vicious chose to send him. Julia, with all her beauty and cunning, would be invaluable as a way to infiltrate other syndicates. Her ability to steal into a room and draw attention was impressive, but moreso was her knack at operating behind the scenes and pulling people in this direction or that as if they were puppets to which she held the strings.

The dream didn't have to die. He could still usurp the Syndicate with Spike as his trusty and deadly right hand. Perhaps there could even be room for Julia at the top in that far away future. He had no intention of rushing this process, after all. Time would help deteriorate the grip of the Van on the other members, and time would give him the chance to assume their loyalty instead.

First, he had to cut himself off from the open wound that was his former relationship with Julia. He could not afford to indulge in the outrage that rose up every time he considered what had been taken from him. He had to accept the changes wrought and move forward coldly and callously. Every act the Van took was leading them further from the ruling force they had once been, and bringing Vicious closer to unleash a new wave of savagery upon this forsaken city.

He would rule it all one day, or else see it razed to the very dust.

seeing double / working to exhaustion / you look awful (sometimes I get so tired, I don’t even know myself)

Jet blinked and peered blearily at the screen that was dancing in front of his eyes. It was difficult to make out the text or the image simply because he was seeing double. He was exhausted, no, he was well beyond exhausted.

But he couldn't go home to sleep.

Home was empty.

Reminders of the life he'd once shared with Alisa surrounded him there. Memories they'd made in the tiny apartment by the sea. Hell, the place still smelled like her favorite perfume and the kitchen had a zing of the spice he'd put on the last dinner that he'd made for her before she up and disappeared.

Well, that wasn't precisely true. She hadn't vanished... she'd left.

And despite his connections, despite his sleuthing skills, he refused to track her down. What good would it do to hound her? If you love something, you have to let it go, right? It'll come back on its own if it wants to. Stalking someone you proclaim affection for... that would be the antithesis of love.

Besides, he'd made a deal with himself. Had left a window of opportunity wide open for her to return. The pocket watch ticking away in his pocket was the reassuring reminder of that.

Tick, tick, tick...

He jerked abruptly as his chin hit his chest. Working himself to exhaustion wasn't exactly the best course of action in the aftermath of a breakup but at least it gave him something to focus on. Maybe he'd been too focused on the job to begin with? Was that why she left? A moot point now if so... besides, he was getting so close with this case. Corner a few more rats, hear a few more confessions, and he thought he might just have the answer he was looking for.

Europa had a huge problem with syndicates. It was the type of problem that bled over into nearby moons and sure enough it had begun to rear its diabolical head here on Ganymede in the past few years. Of course it had, the moons were all in varying states of depression or recession or population loss in the wake of the Titan War. And still there were murmurings that another war seemed inevitable.

He idly wondered if Ganymede might be smart enough to stay out of it this time. Was there even a choice?

He was just a cop, though. If the military wanted to go cause a ruckus elsewhere in the galaxy... well, good for them. Or, fuck 'em. It didn't matter a whit to Jet.

If the war was brought here to his doorstep, that was another story. So the potential war? Not his concern. The strengthening syndicate presence here on Ganymede took priority. There'd been an influx of drugs and criminals. Suddenly people were getting nervous about being out at night. There were neighborhoods that were no longer full of happy families but instead were full of abandoned houses and illegal activities.

Investigating one of the docks was actually the goal for the evening. Even if nothing panned out from this, it felt good to have a purpose.

A Styrofoam cup bearing steaming coffee was sat down on his desk, a few drops sloshing over onto Fad's hand before he could pull it away quick enough. The other man hissed in pain and shook out the hand, shaking off the scalding drops. Jet's eyes traveled over his partner and he wondered briefly if he looked as bad. They'd been pulling such long hours lately...

"Thanks. You look awful," he said gruffly to his partner.

Fad looked down at him with tired eyes but Jet wasn't sure if the other man even saw him. He had that look, what was it called? A thousand yard stare?

"Sometimes... I get so tired... I don't even know myself." Fad muttered, half to himself. He blew out a deep breath and rolled his neck before taking a sip of his own hot coffee and hissing again at the temperature as it hit his tongue. He gave Jet a rueful grin. "You might've thanked me too soon for the coffee, Jet. It wasn't the dregs this time, but piss water might be better tasting."

Jet huffed a short laugh. "If it keeps us upright and moving forward... well, then it's doing its job."

Fad closed his eyes for a moment and nodded sharply as if to wake himself up. "Speaking of that. You ready?"

Climbing to his feet, Jet nodded. "Crime waits for no one. Let's hit it." Grabbing the cup, accidentally splashing some of the dark liquid onto his left hand as he used his right to grab his gun holster out of the drawer it was in, he winced at the heat. 'Tis but a scratch! He thought to himself absently, a bit of dark humor at the unexpected yet insignificant pain. The Black Knight was one of his favorite parts of that old Earth sketch comedy. Something about the way the man never wavered in his pursuit of ...well, guarding a bridge for no discernable reason like a madman, but moreover his determination, how he never gave up... it really spoke to Jet. The man was like him. After all, when the Black Dog bites, he never lets go.

He finished his coffee as he followed Fad out the door.