Written In Response To A Request & Also (almost As An Afterthought But It Just Fell Into Place So Nicely)

Written in response to a request & also (almost as an afterthought but it just fell into place so nicely) as a writing challenge using as three word prompt of 1) Faye 2) dry martini 3) red ☺️

***

Her perfume smelled like roses.

He remembered that from their first meeting. In an overcrowded casino that reeked of spilt booze, sweat, air-conditioning, and money - cutting through all the standard human scents and manufactured ones, like a breath of fresh air. Roses.

He'd always been a sucker for that aroma. Julia had found it amusing. She'd been pleased enough with the bouquet when he presented it to her, but she'd later admitted that it wasn't her favorite scent. Marigolds. Lovely enough but the scent was acrid. Reminded him of fires. But she thought his affinity for roses was endearing. Truth be told, sometimes he felt like a child when he'd offer her a red bloom - like a little boy playing at big emotions and being condescendingly coddled as a way of keeping him happy.

It had been the meaning behind the flowers that he was trying to convey to her, something she had to understand. Love, passion, romance and desire. All things that she had ultimately been indifferent to.

Letting the last bouquet drop carelessly to the concrete, letting his heart wash away down the street with the petals that fell from the bud, he gave up on love. On the silliness of romance. On the instability of desire. On the pursuit of a passion that gave life meaning.

Then, unexpectedly, the sweet smell wafted softly back into his life.

She'd been coy and charming at first, saucy and sassy afterwards, and then she made off with the money and he felt his heart tug as if to chase after her. It had been exciting, amusing, and overall refreshing to have her grace his life with her exuberant presence.

And then suddenly she was back again - all the money gone, along with her fuel, and stranded in space until they'd decided to pick her up. Well, Jet had suggested bringing her in for the bounty she had on her head and Spike had gone along with that plan just for a chance to verbally spar with her again.

Then she'd gone and flipped their tentative plan on its head. She'd put her butt on the line, risked her own life - for the reward? Maybe. Spike didn't think so though. Whatever her motive, it swayed Jet enough to let her stay instead of collecting woolongs by turning her in.

Delightfully, disturbingly, his world was now awash in the soft, heady aroma of roses. Whether it was her shampoo, her conditioner, her lotion, her perfume… all were rose scented. It should have been cloying, overpowering, enough to gag a man.

He couldn't get enough.

So he let her take first showers. He took advantage of opportunities to sit next to her on the couch. He'd stand downwind of her when they were on the deck of the ship.

And then, after he'd laid all his ghosts to rest, he decided to take it all a step further.

It started with a yellow rose that he left in the cockpit of her zipcraft, along with a pack of her preferred brand of smokes. She came in wielding it like a sword and demanded to know why it had been left there.

"Figured by now we were friends," He'd replied honestly with a shrug. It was enough to placate her, and he watched as she buried her nose in the bloom to inhale deeply before wandering off to her room without another word on the matter.

Then, a few weeks later, he left an orange rose on the birthday gift he'd gotten her - one of the trashy paperback novels she secretly adored. This one garnered no verbal response, but she did blush deeply before sneaking off to her room with the book in hand and the rose held to her nose.

After that he couldn't wait any longer. He left a purple rose in front of her door the very next day and then he went to the bridge and bribed Jet to take Ed to the museums in town. Fortunately, they were in Alba City and there were plenty of those - history museums, aircraft museums, museums of science and space. With luck they'd be gone the better part of the day.

Working quickly, Spike set a trail of petals leading up the stairs to the bridge and then scattered more in a path to the windows at the front of the command room. He arranged a bouquet of seven roses in the middle of a square fold out table upon which he'd placed several take out containers, a pair of plates, and their drinks. A dry martini for her, garnished with a lemon twist, and a whiskey on the rocks for him.

Finally, to really set the mood, he fiddled with the Bebop's radio until he found a station playing jazz. The soothing notes of Ahmad Jamal's 'Soul Girl' filled the air just before the sound of Faye's heels rang out as she ascended the stairway.

"You know, a person could read a lot into all this," Faye called out as she sashayed into the bridge proper. She was wearing one of his button up shirts, the purple rose tucked into the button hole between her breasts, with one of his ties affixed around her trim waist like a belt, and her heeled white boots. Spike's eyebrows disappeared into his hairline as he regarded her.

Licking his lips, Spike gestured at the table laden with food and flowers.

"No need to strain," He managed after a moment, brain catching up to her words. "Everything is spelled out pretty clearly, I'd say."

"Mm," She murmured in reply, slinking her way closer. "You're a changed man these days. Coming back from the dead seems to agree with you."

He rolled his eyes skyward. "I went there to see if I was really alive, not to die at all." But then he fixed his mismatched eyes on her. "I don't see the past out of one eye anymore, Faye. I see you, right now, in this present moment."

"I remembered my past, Spike." She replied as she reached him and slipped past him to tuck herself into one of the seats and began opening the take out boxes. "Mmm, dumplings, rice balls, noodles, wontons, Peking duck, and moon cakes?!" Faye reached out for the martini glass and took a generous sip.

"Admittedly the Peking duck was mostly to appease my own appetite, but I know you love the rest." Spike confided.

Faye set down her drink and smirked at him, then moved closer to the roses to inhale deeply. "Ohhh, roses are my favorite. Their scent is just so rich, so sinful…" Her gaze lingered on the blossoms for a moment before lifting up to peer at him over the top of the red blooms. "As I was saying…my memories came back. Nothing useful really, nothing that changes where I belong at least. But I do recall something about flowers. Quite a bit about flowers in fact. Did you know there's a whole language of meaning in flowers?" She leaned back in the chair to toy with the purple rose still snugged in the button hole.

"I may be fairly well versed in that language as a matter of fact." Spike said as he slid into the seat across from her and began dishing up the food onto their plates.

"I suspected as much after the orange one. The yellow didn't have to mean a thing but by the time the purple one showed up… well…"

"You've got some thorns, Valentine. Didn't want to get myself pricked… but you're also impossible to resist I hope you know." Picking up her martini glass to hand to her, relishing the smoothness of her skin as she let her fingers shift along his before claiming the stem of the vessel within her own grasp, Spike nearly shivered with delicious anticipation. Taking his own tumbler in hand, he tilted it towards her with a sincere look on his face.

"A toast, my dear, to…exploring urges…and perhaps seeing what may come of this spark between us." He held his breath as she raised an eyebrow and considered him for a long minute.

At last she tipped her own glass to chime against his in salute.

"To pursuing the potential…as long as we remember to stop and smell the roses from time to time." Her smile at him then changed from seductive to something warmer, touched with a more meaningful type of promise.

Perhaps romance, desire, passion and yes even love were still destined to be a part of his life.

Day 11: Meadow

(if this seems a wee bit confusing, it's probably because it alludes to a multi-chapter story in the Boogie Wonderland/Right On Down the Line universe that I haven't finished/posted yet)

***

Steep rocky cliffs rose up on either side of the valley as Andy rode along, Onyx skillfully navigating the slick path that led to a sprawling meadow beyond the gorge.

The babbling stream, the cheerful birdsong, the steady plod - sometimes a splash, sometimes a muddy squelch - of horse hooves… it all came together as a sort of raw music. A symphony whose familiar sounds brought peace to both horse and rider.

The air was fresh and clear and cool, the sun beating down warmly on their backs as the pair made their way to the valley's edge and paused for a moment to take in the scene that lay before then.

Tall grasses swayed in the breeze, dozens of varieties of wildflowers sprinkled a rainbow of colors all the way from the tree line, over a kilometer away, to the narrow strip of land that separated the meadow from the stream they'd followed.

The stream continued to wind its way towards the distant mountains from which it originated, but Andy made a noise with his tongue to urge Onyx over into the grasses. They'd made the mountainous hike to the perimeter of the crater dozens of times before but the meadow itself was Andy's destination today.

He'd been embroiled in the hellish rivalry of Venusian mafia families for far too long recently. It had been somewhat fun at first to play at being a gangster, but the reality wasn't nearly as charming as films made it out to be. Tensions were high, the suits were uncomfortable, and the criminal aspect was not Andy's cup of tea. Rounding those folks up was much more his speed, but he'd been undercover.

Worst of all had been being apart from Onyx for so long. He’d undertaken the mission to help friends but he vowed now to never again sign himself up for something that kept him from his trusty steed. Onyx was more than a way to get around quickly, he was Andy’s companion… his partner… his best friend. The horse was far more intelligent than most equines - sometimes he seemed more intelligent than Andy himself, and that was saying something because Andy knew he was pretty damn brilliant.

He clucked his tongue once more and Onyx obediently came to a halt in the midst of the kaleidoscope of colors. There were pale purple harebell, bright purple knapweed, bunches of white yarrow flowers and daisies, yellows to rival the sunshine in coneflowers and black eyed susans, beautiful swaths of cornflower - which his mother had always said reminded her of his eyes - and pink foxglove and ragged robin and musk mallow. Nearly every species of flower that had been brought over from Earth had taken well to the environment created within the craters that Andy’s family owned. Bees were buzzing in the air, and butterflies in every color combination imaginable fluttered about as well.

It was almost dizzying - the combination of floral scents and the dance of productivity by the flying insects. It was also very soothing.

“My darling boy!” A woman’s musical voice, rich with affection, called out to him from by the bank of the stream further up towards the point where the meadow began to rise into a series of gradual hills.

“Mama!” He called back, delighted. Leaving Onyx to mosey on over at his own pace after having his fill of wildflowers, Andy walked briskly over to the blanket that his mother had spread onto the ground as a seat.

He reached her quickly and took the hands she held aloft so he could swing her up to her feet and then around in a circle before bringing her back in close for a hug as she laughed. Her laughter was like the tinkle of bells and her eyes - a darker blue than his own - were bright with love and pride.

“Once upon a time, I spun you around like that!” She shook her head slightly. “The years have made us change places, my darling boy. Have you gotten taller since I saw you last? You look so thin! Sit, sit - eat!” She promptly lowered herself to the ground in one smooth motion, tucking her long skirt down as she did, and gestured expansively at the spread before her.

“I don’t know how you’ve managed to avoid the ants, mama. There’s a feast for them here!” And indeed there was… she’d brought summer sausage, sleeves of several kinds of crackers, a charcuterie board loaded with berries and olives and nuts and more cheeses than he could even recognize at first glace. There was also a bottle of champagne chilling in a tall bucket of ice, crystal flutes with berries in the bottom awaiting filling from the bubbly liquid, and all of Andy’s childhood favorite desserts.

“Oh hush, love. I’ve scattered herbs all around us. They’ll stay away for long enough. Come, sit with your dear mother, tell me what you’ve been up to! Your sister Sandy just got engaged! You’ll have to get a new suit for the wedding later this year. Oh and Mandy is pregnant again! She’s hoping for a boy this time - after four girls though I can’t say she’ll be any luckier with this one! And Randy is going to ride in the rodeo this fall! Your father and uncles have been training him to exhaustion, the poor boy! Oh, my baby - in the rodeo! I’m simply beside myself with worry, of course. He’s not as bold as you, my darling.” His mother kept chattering, resting a hand warmly on his arm when he finally sat down beside her and began to dig into the food.

It was all delicious of course - his mother had always employed the most talented of chefs and cooks - and she would be too busy talking to really eat any of it herself. She poured the champagne into the glasses with practiced ease as she continued to regale him with information about the family and all the goings on he’d missed or that were coming up soon. It was pleasantly overwhelming and exactly what he had been hoping for when he had set up this date upon his return to their homestead.

Naturally his father would expect him to check in on the various livestock over the next few weeks - he’d be able to catch up with the old man and all of his uncles as he made his rounds to all their properties here on Mars - but he had an ulterior motive in addition to the desire to see all of his family again.

Stella - sweet, beautiful Stella - had confided in him that there was a bunker hidden in Alba City that was currently under the care of a theater troupe that the Bebop hacker had befriended at some point. It was one of several hydroponics units she’d sent around the galaxy in the hope of producing enough Grey Ash to cure more people back on Venus and so far the results weren’t entirely displeasing. She’d made some progress before things on Venus got so wildly out of hand, but it was small potatoes if you asked Andy.

But…

He had access to acres upon acres upon acres of land. Not just on Mars either. Most of the ranches wouldn’t have the necessary environment to cultivate Grey Ash en masse but even if none of the locations were suitable, he had every intention of using some of his family’s vast wealth to acquire some spots that would be. If Grey Ash was needed to save lives and could be available in such mass quantities that the Mercurian importers and the Venusian crime bosses couldn’t possibly make money off their meager supply… well, that was killing a whole flock of birds with one good size boulder if you asked him!

That was his next mission in life - self appointed, like all the best missions he’d undertaken - and he felt like it would be the one that brought the most positive change to the universe. Taking down bounties was all well and good, but it was drops in the bucket compared to the tsunami he intended to crash down on Venus.

His mind at peace with his decision and plan, his heart fill to bursting with love for his mother as she prattled on joyfully and continued to press treats into his hands, he let himself smile widely and gave himself over entirely to the enjoyment of this moment in this place with this beautiful woman who gave him such a great life.

Just a drabble with the theme of Summer set during Ganymede Elegy

***

He could claim it was simply too beautiful outside to busy himself with repairs in the hangar. It was the plain truth, after all. Deciding to tune up the Swordfish II on the deck had nothing at all to do with the fact that Faye has chosen to lounge out there in a swimsuit that barely covered anything.

And, he reasoned, he could keep an eye on Ed this way. Make sure the kid didn't fall off the ship into the water. Spike wasn't sure if she could swim and anyway it was especially deep here in the harbor where ships docked.

Faye was obviously preoccupied with getting a tan and wasn't paying any attention to Ed, so naturally Spike had to.

Of course, Ed was perfectly happy doing her own thing which was apparently fishing. Until she got distracted by Faye and went over to rub her face on Faye's leg, making Spike guffaw behind the cover of his zipcraft.

He hadn't thought anyone heard, but when he nearly fumbled a tool over the edge when Donnelly called, Spike could clearly hear Faye snickering to herself.

It was a hot day with the sun beating down. Summers in Ganymede were notorious for the heat. It would have been an ideal vacation planet if it only had some beaches, but the floating cities had very crucial walls built up around them to keep the oceans out. There could be no sandy transition between water and land simply because land did not truly exist here.

He could have whiled away a few hours doing maintenance on his ship, enjoying the sunshine and the tempting spectacle that was Faye Valentine. He knew she was doing it on purpose - laying there right on the flight deck. Even if he hadn't chosen to work on his zipcraft out there, if he'd wanted to go anywhere he would still need to utilize the flight deck to launch. Faye knew that perfectly well. No, she had intentionally set herself up to be ogled.

So, covertly, he'd done exactly as she hoped. Really, it would have been rude not to. But when the information about the bounty came up, all the playful teasing atmosphere began to disappear. Real life - and the chance to make some money - would always take precedence over this little game of cat and mouse they sometimes played.

Although Spike could at least get the last laugh this time around. She thought she'd made herself impassable? He'd prove just how well he could work in a tight spot by taking off right over her head!

The roar of the waterfall drowned out any other sound in the harbor where the torrential spill of water flowed out and calmed once it reached a moderate distance from the frothy base of the 200ft falls.

It was an impressive sight, especially to someone born on Mars where there weren't any rivers let alone any waterfalls. Any other time and Spike would probably be guilty of gazing awestruck at the display of raw elemental power.

Actually, he was supposed to be watching as he waited for word from Jet about Ed's upcoming descent via barrel over the falls.

The girl was addicted to adrenaline, just like Spike himself. He couldn't fault her - hell, he typically encouraged her - but this was one death defying stunt he had no interest in attempting personally.

Of course, Jet and Doohan had rigged up Ed's life pod (a barrel may have been an exaggeration) so the chances of her genuinely coming to any harm were significantly reduced. Reduced but not eliminated.

At any rate, he was currently distracted by the vision approaching the Bebop from down the long dock at which they were moored.

Moving at a seductive sway she probably wasn't even aware of - either because by now it was an unconscious and automatic style of stride on her part, or because he couldn't help but view it in an alluring fashion - Faye was making her way back to the ship with two large grocery bags in either arm and a bulging purse along her right hip.

She was wearing a dark mustard yellow mid length dress that ended just above the knee in the front but slightly longer in the back, with a plunging neckline. Spike's gaze had been fastened to the hemline of the skirt, hypnotized by the way it pressed against her thighs with every gust of wind and then swirled forward as she progressed.

Spike spared a moment to be thankful for the sheer length of the dock, while also briefly regretting his inability to meet her halfway and help with the load. Well, technically he could go and offer his aid...

Standing up from the fold out camp chair he'd been occupying, carefully adjusting the weight in his arms, Spike grinned down at the groggy baby who was slowly waking up and peering about blearily. He started fussy noises, gearing up for what promised to be a robust meltdown, when Spike shifted the infant and pointed out Faye's figure as she came nearer and as Spike began to walk her way.

From everything DB had told them, and from the random bits of knowledge Ed had been passing on from various Internet sources, there was simply no way the 10 week old baby could see Faye from that far away even with the way both parties were closing the distance between them. Yet somehow Lupin must have recognized her, or sensed her perhaps, because the wail he'd been working up to became a joyous gurgle one could almost call a giggle.

"Yeah, bud - she's pretty fantastic. And we're lucky enough to be the ones she's walking to." He gave the baby a little squeeze of affection as he spoke, then hustled over to Faye to trade her for the bags she carried. Each one easily weighed more than Lupin by several pounds, and he eyed her purse up as well.

Faye, taking the baby and showering his face with kisses before cradling him in her arms and shoving aside part of her dress to free a breast which the baby immediately latched onto, still managed to give Spike a cool look in response to his unasked question.

"This place caters to the top tier of rich bitches," She complained loudly. "Not my fault everything is exorbitantly expensive here, but hell if I'm gonna pay for all the stuff I need. Those vitamins to promote breast milk cost more than refilling the RedTail!" She lifted her nose in the air as she cast a glare at the vessels docked around them.

It was luxury yachts and elite cruise lines at every turn, with the notable exception of the Bebop itself. Call him crazy but that rusty derelict - oh, not in truth for Jet went to great lengths to keep the ship in prime condition, but in comparison with the company she currently kept - had a charm that none of the others could hope to.

"Where are the others anyway? I thought Jet wanted to blow this joint once I got back." She had to shout just to be heard clearly over the sound of the waterfall.

"Well... You're not gonna like it but... Ed convinced Jet and Doohan to set her up with a mini sub and she's gonna go over the falls."

Faye stopped dead and stared in horror at the monstrosity that towered over the little bay. Spike had walked a few steps further towards the ship before noticing her absence from his side.

"What."

Spike grinned disarmingly at her. ""Don't worry, babe. They wouldn't let her do anything suicidal. Jet even went back through to add the airbags she initially refused."

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, Faye steeled herself before looking at the waterfall again and falling into step with Spike once more.

"I don't have to watch, do I?"

Spike shrugged. "Honestly I'd be surprised if we could see her in the act at all. So no, you don't gotta look."

Faye shook her head slightly. "No, I'll watch. If she's gonna do the damn thing we might as well be witnesses or what's even the point."

"If you ask her... It's because it's there."

Prompt Day 6: Breeze

***

It was fully dark by the time the cops had left with Rhint in custody.

The wreckage of their seacraft remained on the rocks just past the walkway along the shoreline - no doubt the removal or recovery of the damn thing would cost her. Maybe she could get something from the scrapyard since it would be beyond her financial means to fix the thing. Besides, she had nowhere to go which means no need for a vehicle.

Jet was long gone now too. Crashing back into her life just to try and take charge once more. Worrying about her, the way he always had. It was positively stifling. Even now she could hear his words to Rhint playing over and over in her mind… protect her, protect her, protect her… as if she was incapable of looking out for herself. As if she were a child.

Fury rose up in her, nearly choking her.

She clenched her fists, closed her eyes tight, and concentrated on taking slow deep breaths in… then out… in, then out.

With effort she managed to calm back down. Keeping her eyes closed, she hung her head and tried desperately to swallow down the tears that were threatening.

Rhint…

She was terrified for him. Self defense plea or not, he would have to serve time for his crime. Murder wasn't something they just put people back out on the street after. And he was such a sweet sensitive soul. He could barely handle roughing up the thugs that sometimes loitered in front of the bar. Killing the loan shark had been a terrible accident and she knew it would haunt him.

A gentle breeze stirred her hair. The tang of salt water teased her nose. It was late and dark and the water was cold but the breeze that caressed her face was surprisingly warm. Like the sigh of a mother, full of care and encouragement. It buoyed her spirits.

Lifting her chin from her chest, she reopened her eyes at last to take in the beauty of the glittering night sky. Countless stars scattered like diamonds on dark velvet, the moving points of light from the satellites and space stations just beyond the atmosphere. Infinity stretching out above her.

The breeze made her feel renewed. In an attempt to keep her worries about Rhint at bay, she focused on all the opportunity that lay ahead as she made the long, long walk back to La Fin.

There was insurance on the building… perhaps a fire would erupt down the street and engulf her property. Or, a gas line explosion? Though that seemed far more difficult to pull off. She knew an inferno would be easier to begin and escape from - messing with the gas, well, she wasn't trying to off herself on accident.

It rained on Ganymede plenty. Maybe the roof was in rough shape? A persistent leak could have damaged the structural integrity to the point of potential collapse. Actually, she really ought to investigate that when she got back. When she had taken over the mortgage of the structure she hadn't thought to inspect the building. The interior and all the dreams it could hold, that was all she had been concerned with and able to see. And damn if she hadn't pulled it off.

La Fin had been a refuge for folks in that quarter. The French Quarter (though in reality all of Ganymede had drawn heavily on inspiration from that once beautiful country on Earth). It had whispered to Alisa of romance, of breathtaking art, of fame and fortune. At one time, it had not only boasted all of that… those concepts had been truth. She had just been in the right place at the wrong time.

Everyone was hurting. Everywhere was run down. The news anchors spoke in scared tones about economic depression and soaring interest rates and food shortages. To be fair, there were always food shortages. On a world where 98% of the surface was water… that didn't leave much room for agriculture. Everything on Ganymede was a manmade construct - all the floating isles, with their grandiose cities, all the underwater science stations with their attempts at farming seaweed.

Trade relations with other moons and planets were crucial to the survival of Ganymede as a colonized world. Oh sure there was an abundance of aquatic life that had taken to the seas after being transplanted from Earth, but no one could survive solely on fish and there just weren't enough community gardens to feed an entire population.

It had never seemed so dire when she was a child. Her parents had sheltered her to some degree - and then of course so did Jet - but even aside from that, there had been more hope in the world. More assurance of a bright future for all.

And now, well, she was hardly the only person who had been forced to make uncomfortable choices. Who had to make terms with questionable allies. In some ways she had been lucky to even make it as long as she had. For years she'd successfully ran La Fin, mixing cocktails and offering a listening ear along with some general guidance or specific advice - like a good bartender ought to. She had run a business and been damn good at it. Her parents would have been proud if they'd lived to see the day.

Hell, she was proud of herself. It had been a clean establishment with liquor that hadn't been watered down the way a lot of the other bars tried to cut costs. But in the long run it didn't matter when gradually people were less and less able to afford to imbibe. Not only that, but rising housing costs were forcing families to move from the area because people couldn't afford the new rents.

The French Quarter was becoming a ghost town and Alisa wasn't sure what to do next. What move could she possibly make that others in similar situations hadn't already tried? There was no grant money out there. No credit cards she hadn't already maxed. No government assistance. She had already tried all the legitimate methods of survival before finally turning to Law Rentzuo, financial broker by day and thuggish loan shark by night.

Not her smartest move but then again she'd been out of smart moves. She'd been out of moves entirely except that last ditch effort to stay afloat.

It was after midnight by the time she got onto the street where La Fin was. Her apartment was conveniently located upstairs - which of course had made the cost of the place outrageous. It was a cute little place though, tiny and tidy just the way she liked it.

The lighting on the street was not particularly illuminating and so she had nearly reached the doorway by the time she realized someone was standing there with their back leaning against the door itself.

She stopped with a gasp, one hand flying to her chest and the other falling to the pocket at her hip where the gun rested.

"Ah ah ah, I wouldn't do that if I were you, Alisa."

"Who are you?!" Her voice shook.

The man ignored her. "You thought your debt died with Rentzuo? Don't be silly. You still owe that to his partners. See, Law was working with Europa. Lots of folks in this area are working with Europa. Things are changing around here - the docks'll be open again and trade will flow. So it's gonna work out real good for you actually, Alisa. You're gonna run your place same as ever. You're just gonna also hustle some stuff on the side for us. Gonna help Europa keep a nice discreet grasp on this neighborhood so the cops don't get too frisky. It's all gonna be good, Alisa. You'll see. Europa runs things real smooth, real professional. Don't you worry your pretty little head."

The man stepped away from her bar and gave her a nod as he walked off down the alley, leaving Alisa alone with her chaotic thoughts.

Europa Syndicate?! Hustling what? Hiding things from the cops?

An icy chill ran down her spine. The breeze had changed.

Suddenly the stars seemed dimmer, the night much colder, and her daydream of escape was dead. Fear coiled in her stomach and made her hands tremble as she unlocked the door and slipped inside.

She couldn't do this. Whatever they wanted of her. She wouldn't.

But… she had told Jet she was going to wait for Rhint. That hadn't been a lie - she had wanted Rhint at her side when she left. She still wanted Rhint at her side. He loved her so wholly and depended on her so much. Surely she could manage to keep herself together until he was released. How long could it be?

She would just play the game for now. Toe the line and keep to herself. And then Rhint would be back and they could take off together. Abandon this place and her debt. Together they would escape, free as the breeze…

Written in response to a visual prompt which I'll add later if I can figure out how. It's a picture of a sunset or sunrise in mostly golden and crimson tones.

Do you like creating Bebop fanfiction? Do you like writing prompts and fic fests and all that jazz? Leave a comment or message me privately and I'll link you to a delightful new Bebop discord server dedicated to fanfic and fan art. It's a harbor for all ships, so all are welcome 💕

Also this is just a stream of consciousness drabble with no editing and no chance to reread before posting so apologies in advance for any errors or confusing bits.

***

Red Sky At Night…

Red Sky In Morning…

Dawn had always brought a certain splendor along with its arrival. From a young age, waking to greet the day in the gray predawn hours, Jet had found himself fascinated by the spill of colors across the sky as the sun rose on the horizon.

His earliest memories were of sharing that quiet moment with his grandmother. His father would have been gone to work already, and his grandfather too for that matter. His mother would wake shortly after the sun came up, operating on a schedule that parallelled the life-giving star, for she also retired for the evening shortly after sunset. Before breakfast, while the city was still slumbering or just beginning to stir, these were the most peaceful hours of his day.

Whether it was the shuffle of his grandmother's slippers on the hardwood floor or the natural rhythm of his own sleep cycle, Jet invariably found himself awake in time to find his jacket and a pair of shoes - which he'd slip into as he exited the kitchen and stepped onto the porch - so he could join his grandmother on the porch swing.

Their house was small and creaky so Jet would always try to be as silent as possible in creeping around. His mother was often sickly and he hated to disturb her rest. She’d do her utmost to feign ample health and energy, whipping up a hearty breakfast for the household - as his father and grandfather would return for a meal before setting back out to sea - but Jet knew the toll it took on her to manage even the simplest of household chores. He and his grandmother did what they could to help out, which sometimes just meant staying out of the way entirely.

Jet learned a lot from both of his folks and from his grandparents too. It was a blessing to have his dad’s parents living with them. Jet considered himself quite fortunate to have the chance to learn stories of his grandfather as a young boy on the seas of Earth itself. To hear of his grandmother’s own infatuation with the ebb and flow of the tides, and the way the sun broke free of the waves… her own girlhood had been spent on the shores of Biarritz, and it had been there that she learned to surf. After the exodus from the planet when his grandparents were both still quite young, they’d met here on one of the beaches of Ganymede. His grandfather, still so in love with the water, pursued a career in the fishing industry and built a home facing the sunrise so his grandmother could watch the skies and watch the seas and be happy.

It was this very house that Jet lived in with his folks and grandparents. A place imbued with love and with appreciation for the currents that controlled the waters beyond the shore. It was there that Jet nearly drowned when he was ten. An able bodied swimmer, he hadn’t yet understood how dangerous rip currents could be. Fortunately, his father had been home from work and dove in without hesitation to reach him. Had helped keep his head above water as they rode the current to a point where it wasn’t as strong and they could break away and return to shore.

His grandmother had held his mother, shaking with tears, and solemnly nodded her head at Jet.

“The waters have many lessons to teach. Not all are lucky enough to survive the trials of the sea. Come, we will make some tea to warm your bones and we will talk of what happened and how you made it back. It is important to remember in case you are ever in such a position again.” She said calmly, leading his mother back inside while Jet and his father, both dripping salt water from their clothes and hair, followed.

It was not an experience that Jet enjoyed. In fact, it probably had something to do with his dislike of being out on the open water. But his grandmother’s calm and the respect with which she eyed the choppy waves made an impression on him.

So too did the worst night of his young life, though it started out so beautifully.

Sitting on the porch swing with his grandmother, swinging slowly back and forth, the horizon began to smudge a ruddy shade that made his grandmother put her feet firmly on the porch to halt the motion of the swing. Deep plums blossomed into murky maroons and then a slew of varying burgundy shades. Jet watched as the sun finally began to touch upon the sky directly, even the sliver too bright to stare at, but when he turned to face his grandmother she was still looking straight at the sunrise.

“Be strong today, my darling.” She said to him then.

“What’s the matter?” Jet had asked. The sunrise seemed just as lovely as the scarlet sunsets they’d witnessed on particularly good evenings.

She closed her eyes briefly before turning to smile at him tremulously. “Oh, it is probably nothing, my darling. Just a silly old woman remembering an adage from Earth. Red skies at night, sailor’s delight! Red skies in morning, sailors take warning.” She recited from memory then, reaching out to cup his cheeks with her wrinkled palms, patting his face absently. “These old bones sometimes ache when a storm approaches. It will be fine, don’t worry yourself.”

But the day did not stay nice for long. Dark clouds gathered and the sea swept itself up into a fury and by the time breakfast rolled around there were two empty chairs and his mother and grandmother ate their meals with worry etched into their features. Jet did not go to school that day, opting to stay home and help put up the protective blinds that kept the glass safe when the gales were especially violent. And before lunch the storm had landed fully and he huddled with his mother and grandmother in the living room in the heart of the house, listening to the pounding of the waves and the deluge of the rain and the eerie wailing of the wind.

Later, much later, his father returned bedraggled and exhausted and with his head bowed in grief. His grandfather would never come home again. His grandmother remained strong, but from then on there were always tears in her eyes whenever she looked out to the sea. Jet’s mother began rising earlier in the day and sharing a cup of tea with his grandmother as they sat in silence on the porch. Jet himself, feeling bitter about the ocean and the ruthlessness with which it had taken his grandfather, began leaving the women to their grief and their vigil - breakfast was now only begun when Jet’s father could be seen marching up the shore from the docks. He started to duck out in the predawn hours to meet up with classmates and friends, unable to tolerate the morning routine that the household now maintained. It was the beginning of a new chapter in his life… family had dominated the first decade or so of his existence, and it had been the happiest time of his life… but Jet had to answer the calling of his own soul.

Forget the sea. It was too cold, too wet, too vast and empty. It was a place some of his darkest fears were borne.

He set his eyes instead on the sky again. The night so full of stars sparkling. Space, cold and vast and empty to be sure, was also somehow full of promise. He felt a peculiar giddiness whenever he let himself stare up at the constellations, as though anything could happen out there. But it remained merely a feeling for many many years. Something to occupy his time when he wasn’t focusing on schoolwork, or undergoing the trials of the police academy, or filling his evenings with dates with smiling girls.

It would be a long time before he finally set out for the stars. And though his parents and grandmother had all passed away by that point… his mind brought back the adage his grandmother had spoken when he at last launched the refitted fishing trawler on its maiden voyage to the stars. It had taken all day to get clearance after the inspection and fueling up. The sun was going down in a brilliant blaze of carmine.

He had never wanted to be a sailor out at sea. Had never even considered being a sailor in the stars. But fate led his feet on the path he was meant to travel, and when he left Ganymede it was on a night where the skies granted good favor to his future.