* * *

He hadn't wanted to end up the way he did. It wasn't like he had had big dreams as a child. Hey kids! Looking for a good career? Become a high-ranking member of an unspeakably powerful syndicate! Travel to distant places, kill important people—you get all the perks! It had just sort of happened. Those kind of things always started out the same way, a little errand here, a little favor there, just getting some extra cash on the side from the local hot shots. Of course, it gradually escalated, moving on up to bigger deliveries, being a driver for the gunmen. Before he knew it, the gun was in his hand, and he felt like he'd been doing it his whole life. It wasn't like it made him happy. He just didn't have any basis for comparison to what a good life should be.

And then he saw her.

He hadn't even spoken to her, just that first glance from across the smoke-filled hall, but that one glance let the emptiness that had been building for so long rise up and threaten to consume him. She was what he had been missing, what he'd been searching for. He didn't care about her past, about the rumors he had heard. She may not have been perfect, but she was perfect for him. She made him better, made him want to be better. She was his match. She fit him perfectly.

Still?

 What do you mean, still?

 Was she still your perfect match? You've changed. I'm sure she changed, too. Would she still have completed you? Can even the real Julia live up to the ideal you've carried around inside your head for so long?

Jeez, I pick now of all times to grow a conscience. I honestly don't know what you mean.

 You might be able to lie to everyone else, Spike, but you can't lie to yourself.

 I can try.

 You knew Julia as she was then, but who knows what the Julia now was really like? Three years can be a very long time. Especially when those three years are spent expecting each day to be your last. Being on the run alters a person. It changes their priorities, their perceptions. You saw Julia, and she looked the same, just as beautiful as ever, but you don't know what that time did to her. She saw you, and she saw the same guy she had loved before. Are you that same guy? Haven't you changed since then, Spike?

. . .

Well, haven't you?

Yes, I have. Are you happy?

The question is: are you?

A familiar hum, a vibration he knew somehow. Engines, slightly straining. A combination of smells: oil, engine fuel, maybe a slight mustiness, mixed with just a hint of bell peppers. He recognized this place, recognized the feel of it. One thing was out of place, a slightly high-pitched, regular beeping. Even so, he didn't even have to open his eyes to knew where he was.

Home.

Nah, this isn't home. This is just the Bebop.

Are you sure?

Voices again, coming from the world outside.

"Are you okay watching him, Faye?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'll call you if I need to go to the bathroom or if I want some food or something."

"Food, huh? Guess I'll plan on checking in every ten minutes or so."

"Very funny, Jet. Ha ha."

"Well, in the meantime, I'm gonna take a nap. Let me know when it's my turn to sit with him."

"Sure thing. Jeez, all this energy just for one poofy-haired jerk."

"Yeah, I know. He's never been anything but trouble. But I guess that's true of most people, you know? Everyone brings you trouble. The only difference lies in what kind of trouble."

"All right, Mr. Bonsai philosophy man, go get some rest. I'll keep an eye on him just like the doc said to."

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