31_days | [March 4] [Cowboy Bebop] Overture

Title: Overture
Day/Theme: March 4/The art of losing isn't hard to master
Series: Cowboy Bebop
Character/Pairing: Jet Black/Faye Valentine
Rating: T for Teen
Word Count: 1,076
Note: The prompt is from one of my favorite poems, so in the end I actually referenced it in the text. This is also a gift-fic for

sabinelagrande. Post-series, major spoilers.

Jet had no idea how he kept getting into situations like this. Well, actually, he knew exactly why: he was a bounty hunter, and that involved a certain amount of contact with criminals, as well as occasionally being one.

"Look," he said with a sigh. "Just go. I'll leave and you'll leave and I'll forget I ever saw you."

"Don't insult my intelligence, old man." The twitchy blond white kid didn't even know how to hold the gun right, but he probably knew how to pull the trigger.

Old man, though Jet to himself. I'm only thirty-six, damn it.

"If I let you go you'll only come after me again,"

"Why?" Jet asked exasperatedly. "So you can shoot me next time? The bounty on your head isn't worth it, kid."

Probably a bad move to call him 'kid,' Jet reflected. Makes up a little bit for the 'old man' business though.

"You put your gun down," the bounty head said.

"Look, Peter--"

"That's not my real name."

"Well, how am I supposed to know which name is real?" asked Jet. The man he was looking at was known as Peter Firestone, Paul Peterson, John Fredricks, and Peter Parker (And was Jet the only one old enough to remember that that was Spider-Man's real name? Possibly.)

Paul Peterson or whatever the hell his name was really did have a very small bounty on his head. Which was fair, as he was only a third-rate forger. (Forger of what, Jet wasn't quite sure. He looked like he could hardly spell the words written on money and he seemed way too stupid to deal in fine art.)

The kid sighed. "It's John, OK? And I can't let you turn me in."

"Is this where you tell me you give all your money to your sick mother?" asked Jet.

"I don't know. Is there where you tell me your friends are surrounding the building?"

That hurt. Jet didn't have enough friends to surround a public toilet, let alone this place. Everything that was happening was being broadcast to the Bebop through Jet's earpiece, if anyone cared to listen. But Faye had been off gambling and she never came home early from that.

"My friends are none of your business," he said. But now he couldn't help thinking. Of Alisa, who couldn't stand him in the end. Of Fad, who had turned out not to be a friend at all. Of Spike, who had left him with nothing but memories and a stupid story about a cat. Ed, who may not have ever really been there in the first place. And again of Faye. One day she just wouldn't come back, and then he'd have lost Faye too.

That made him think of that poem, One Art.

The art of losing isn't hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

If anything in the universe seemed filled with the intent to be lost, it was Faye. She was always on the edge of someplace else, always running away.

And Jet kept chasing her down, and he still wasn't sure why. He was certain he didn't love her, and most of the time he didn't even like her. And why should he, when she didn't like him either? If she did, she wouldn't steal his money and cheat him at cards, would she?

Well, this evaluation of his life was pretty damn depressing. Not so bad that he wanted to let the kid shoot him after all, but it was starting to look like no one would miss him. Faye would probably steal the Bebop and crash it someplace and that would be the end of anyone giving a damn about Jet Black.

"I need the money for my girlfriend," John Whatever-the-hell said.

"Is she pregnant?" asked Jet.

"No, no. But she needs to move out of her parents' house. They're really mean to her."

I'm sorry I even got him started, thought Jet with an inner sigh.

"If I go to jail no one will be around to protect her," John was insisting.

"My heart bleeds, John," Jet replied. "Why can't you just go get a normal job?"

"Why can't you?"

Ouch, though Jet. But he had a point. Jet was starting to think anything would be better than hunting down bounty heads like this one.

"Look, this standoff is getting annoying," Jet said. "I'm really, honestly not going to shoot you in the back if you just go into your ship and get out of here."

That was when Jet heard the music. Loud music, which he quickly identified as the 1812 Overture. It seemed to be coming from above his head. Then, to his shock, he saw a ship crashing through the thin roof of the hangar. John simply dropped his gun and stared as Jet ran for the door.

Before he ran outside, Jet realized that the ship had landed and the hangar still seemed to be standing. When he turned around, he realized that he was looking at the Redtail. With the music still blasting, Faye swung herself out of the cockpit and smiled.

"Ready to leave, Jet?" she asked cheerfully.

"What the hell are you doing?" Jet asked. He looked over at his new friend the bounty head, but he was still staring stupidly at the huge hole in the ceiling. Just in case, Jet headed over and picked up the kid's gun.

"Rescuing you," said Faye. "I heard your little problem up in the Bebop."

"I didn't even think you were there to hear it," Jet admitted.

"Well, I was and I did and I'm here now, saving your ass."

"Why the 1812 Overture?" Jet asked.

"I couldn't find "Ride of the Valkyries" in your music collection," Faye said.

"That's because I hate Wagner."

"What are you going to do about that bounty head?" Faye asked. "He's right there, unarmed--"

Jet interrupted her. "And if I ever hear him talk again it will be too soon. Let's go."

"Aren't you even going to thank me?"

He considered this for a moment. "Thank you. Now let's get the hell out of here."

Pressed close to Faye in the confines of the Redtail, inhaling her scent, Jet had time to reconsider his earlier musings. The art of losing wasn't hard to master but sometimes... no matter what... it would still be a disaster.