Disclaimer:Do not own Bebop

Coming to Terms

Her hair was different. He supposed that as a man, noticing that didn't really go for much, but it was true. It was longer…darker. It caressed her face and had the appearance that she'd just run her fingers through it; but he'd been watching her for some time now and she had yet to do so. That wasn't all that was different about her though. Her attire was different. Gone were her tacky looking yellow shorts and matching top. Although her current garments didn't count for much considering…

Of all the places in the universe he'd expected to find Faye Valentine it wasn't here. Shacking up somewhere with some chick –probably lesbian but as of yet not self aware- why not? Hiding out on Mars or Ganymede trying to lay low after having recently bailing out on something that probably could've been worthwhile – that would be the Faye he knew.

But this one, this Faye was, firstly, wearing his trench coat, the one he was pretty sure he'd died in. Secondly, this Faye was currently parading herself around on stage at some seedy, hole-in-the-ground bar on Callisto, Jupiter's forgotten rock-the kind of bar where you could order a titty fuck with a double finger of watered down scotch. And finally, the cherry on top for this whole mind-fuck of an experience was that according to the audience this Faye –his Faye was a regular with a name, "The Lost Maiden."

Well fuck him sideways.

He was surprised to find his cup empty, and even more surprised to find her standing in front of him.

"You look lost, cowboy," she said to him, her tone clearly relaying her displeasure at his presence.

"No more than you." He signaled the bartender for a refill, but found she'd covered his glass with her hand. She took the seat adjacent to his, crossing her legs. It seemed he'd become part of the show. The flap of the coat-his coat- had fallen open revealing enough of her legs to just barely be considered decent. Just barely. He directed his gaze to her face, resolute now to keep it from wandering further.

Her head was tilted back and for a second he felt as if he was watching the scene play out from the position of a fly on the wall. The image of her in stark profile seared itself into his consciousness and made him acutely aware of a restlessness that had seized him since he'd set foot in the bar. The music throbbed in his head, her scent assaulted him, he felt the atmosphere coating him heavy and clinging calling to parts of his soul, evil parts that were supposed to have been laid to ground. Parts that were supposed to have been absolved at the death of Viscous and the closure of the chapter titled 'Julia'.

What a fuck of a chapter that was.

He felt her hand slide across his shirt before he registered her moving. Her fingers ghosted over his ribcage and the holster of his gun where she tucked her fingers in pulling out his last two cigarettes. She place one between his lips, keeping the other for herself. His own hand on reflex was brining up his zippo already aflame.

She made to accept the light, so being Spike Spiegel, he took the opportunity as it had so beautifully presented itself to annoy the hell out of her and regain some equal footing. He lit his own cigarette, ignoring her, and tucked the lighter back into his pocket. He smirked as she scowled in aggravation but she recovered quickly. Her hand moved to rest on his thigh and he froze, unsure of this new form of contact.

He watched her as she leaned in, eyes closed so he could make out the fan of her eyelashes against her cheeks. She touched the end of the butt to his and upon inhaling caught his gaze. It was piercing and almost accusatory, the intensity of it caused him to suck in a breath cherrying the end of his own and lighting hers in the process.

She exhaled and he thought then that she'd move away having finished toying with him. But the hand on his thigh glided upwards coming dangerously close to his groin before it slid over his chest and around to the back of his neck, then tangled itself in his hair. Faye leaned in even closer and just when Spike was certain that she was going to break all barriers regarding personal space her breath tickled his ear and her voice followed.

"Go back to whatever grave you dug yourself out of, Spike, before I put you back in it myself."

The coldness that followed her departure was not nearly as bad as watching her get back on stage picking up right where she left off. She blew him a kiss over her shoulder before turning her back to the audience. She began unbuttoning the trench coat, sliding it off to reveal a flawless back before letting it trail lower. He didn't stick around to see the rest.