Authoress: Michelle C.

Date: August 31, 2003

Series: Cowboy Bebop

Disclaimers: Sure. Yeah. Bebop's mine. That's why I'm Scarlet on a role-play. Sure… Yeah. (The RP is just in case you want to know. I love the thing but it's kinda inactive.) And ditto with the song too. It's Dido's. Bloody genius, that woman…

I've loved this song for oh-so long. It really is a beautiful thing. Stan is interesting too. The Eminem remix. Anyone heard of it? Short sentences… I'm tired. So sue me. It's 1:41am and school starts in a couple of days but I'm still trying to do this fic… Gah. That was a long sentence… Stopping the babble now.

Thank You

My tea's gone cold,

I'm wondering why

I got out of bed at all.
The morning rain clouds up my window

And I can't see at all.
And even if I could it'd all be grey

But your picture on my wall,
It reminds me that it's not so bad,
It's not so bad, bad.

            The purple-haired female who had been dubbed Faye something at birth (and Faye Valentine when she awoke from cryogenic sleep) stared listlessly at the cup in her hands. Her eyes looked lost within the rolling brown liquid that was held captive by the pearly white porcelain. She flexed her wrists a few times more and watched as the steam disappeared over time. Even though the tea was stone cold at this point, she took a tiny sip of it and lowered the mug once again. She had been sitting there staring at her tea for over an hour.

            She watched as the once hot liquid lapped against the walls of the cup again before she put it down next to her. She held her hands in her lap limply, like a puppet that had its strings cut. The young woman looked up slightly, the movement disturbing her violet tresses. She half-heartedly blew them away from her eyes, but they fell back limply.

            She left them alone this time.

            She stood up and the afore mentioned cup took a life of it's own and dived onto the floor. The offending object's handle broke off with a tiny plink and the cold, amber liquid, now free of it's confinement, spread itself into a flat, shapeless mass upon the floor. Faye's delicately arched eyebrow furrowed in annoyance and she made a sound that sounded like a hybrid between a groan, a growl, and a sigh of annoyance. She picked up a towel that hung conveniently near her bed and mopped up the mess before she threw afore mentioned towel into the hamper. She kicked the porcelain pieces into a tiny heap by the door and nudged some stray ones (not so gently) there as well with her toe. "Note to self: bribe Ed into cleaning up stupid, now broken and still stupid mug," she muttered. She blew her hair out of her face again.

            It fell back in her eyes.

            She glanced at her pillow and then the door, making sure it was locked. She slugged her arm towards the white, inviting cushion, but instead of lying down upon it, she slipped her pale, thin hand under it and pulled out a 4x4 photograph.

I drank too much last night,

Got bills to pay,
My head just feels in pain.
I missed the bus and there'll be hell today—
I'm late for work again.
And even if I'm there

They'll all imply that I might not last the day
And then you call me

And it's not so bad;
It's not so bad.

And I want to thank you

For giving me the best day of my life.
And, oh, just to be with you

Is having the best day of my life.

            She smiled slightly as her head continued to pound cruelly against her skull. 'Damn you, Spike, for getting me hooked on drinking,' she thought at the picture, her eyes glazed with a thin, light film of fatigue.

            She sighed again and laid her head upon her pillow, holding the picture against her chest. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds and allowed herself some relief from the ache in her head for that long. Then she opened her emerald eyes and the bright, cheerful light of her room nipped playfully at her face, including her eyes, making her headache worse. She groaned and closed her eyes again. Her hand struck the wall above her several times before she found the light dimmer and turned it to a more considerate glow. She opened her emerald, crystalline eyes again and they lost focus for a second, her mind drifting to the task that lay ahead of her.

            Jet and Edward had found another bounty when she was at the bar the night before and they planned on how they would use Faye as bait for the capture. How cleaver.

The guy they found had five-billion woolong reward on him. His twisted little way of getting kicks was to lure unsuspecting girls into dark alleyways with whatever way he could where he would then rape them and afterward decapitate them. Seriously disturbed and utterly warped—the everyday bounty-head for your not-so-everyday femme fatale bounty huntress. She hadn't paid much attention to the details then since she was barely awake at the time. Just thinking about what would take place in a few hours was enough to give her a headache by itself.

            But she had a hangover too. So that meant two headaches for one head. Fun, fun.

            She curled up on her side and held the slightly crumpled snapshot in front of her face, the off-colored eyes of the lanky six-foot-something man staring back at her, the moment forever captured. It was a picture of him from years ago. She stole it out of one of Jet's draws from somewhereorother in somethingorother room. She blinked sluggishly and sighed.

            'This is the worst day of my life,' she thought venomously. 'Er… Not counting the day Mama died… Or the day of the accident… Or when I woke up thinking I was still in my time… Or when Whitney betrayed me… Or that stupid doctor guy who was his uncle… Or Wuzzisname from that casino… Or constantly running… bounty hunting…' She mentally sighed. "All right, all right. So this can't be classified as the worst, but it's pretty damn high up there," she spat out. She groaned again and then sighed.

            The next few hours passed all too quickly. Hangover still hanging out in her throbbing head, she stepped into her ship and pulled out of the hangar with Jet's frantic yells of how it was supposed to open before she floored it into reverse.


Push the door,

I'm home at last

And I'm soaking through and through.
Then you handed me a towel

And all I see is you.
And even if my house falls down now,

I wouldn't have a clue
Because you're near me

And I want to thank you

For giving me the best day of my life.
And, oh, just to be with you

Is having the best day of my life.

            "So," started a voice from her right side when the violet-haired femme walked into the Bebop, her skin-tight outfit soaked and even tighter on her. "So," the voice said again, a tone of amusement now there much to Faye's dismay, "didja get him?"

            She ignored the goujo and started to walk past him before an arm commanded her to either halt run into it. She chose the previous option and stopped. He had a soft, fluffy white towel and was holding it out with that cocky smile of his.

            She snatched the warm, inviting luxury from his hand and scowled. She started to walk away from him again towards her room, the towel wrapped tightly around her shoulders.

            Spike smiled back at her faintly and then turned to walk in the opposite direction.

            "Thank you," she said softly.

And I want to thank you

For giving me the best day of my life.
And, oh, just to be with you

Is having the best day of my life.

Wow.. I've started this about a month ago… Started on the 9th, and it's now the 31st. That's ridiculous and ridiculously pathetic. Kami-sama, I'm a sad person, ne? Takes me about a month to write a very short one-shot. How weak.

I have 1,249 words altogether if you don't count all the stuff at the top, the title, and this note here. Not too, too bad, ne? *Sigh* Please review. It's not hard. See the little purple button? Press it and you won't get a virus or worm from me. I promise.