For Spubba--Bebop

The Bebop was no place for a kid, and neither was the life of a bounty hunter -- Jet knew that. Half the time they were dead in space, out of money and food and gas. And the other half, they were risking their lives going after wanted criminals. Breakdowns and bullets and debt -- and he and Spike were no kind of role models.

He should have taken Ed to the nearest orphanage -- at least there she'd have a meal every day. He definitely shouldn't have taken her on board.

Jet tucked the blanket around Ed's slumbering form and gently pried her computer from her arms. He looked around, carefully, made sure that nobody could see him. He leaned down and gently -- furtively -- kissed her forehead.

Spike was waiting outside, lounging against the bulkhead, eyes closed, one leg braced against the metal wall, his chin tucked down against his chest. "Softest touch this side of Mars," he said as Jet walked past.

Jet grunted. He hoped he'd made the right choice.