Corbin closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. Rest rarely found him, even before he met Jet. Sleep was always filled with flashes of someone else's memories, but since meeting up with Jet, since sitting in the cockpit of the Swordfish II, it had gotten worse. The flashes were stronger, more persistent, but not any more coherent, shifting from little Spikey eating an ice cream on a beach; to the feeling of a cold steel table under him, and a blinding pain in his eye; to the vague impression of smooth, white skin, and pale yellow hair. It was Spike inside his head, trying to get out. But Corbin was not Spike, Spike was a man eaten away by pain, and loss. Spike wanted to die, Corbin wanted nothing more than to live, free from Spike's tall shadow.
He scratched absently at the tattoo on his hand. XXVI. It was because of that tattoo that he had to leave the Bebop, the first place he felt he might have a home. Because he would always be Corbin 26 to them, never just Corbin. Despite all of Jet's generosity, Corbin knew that every time he saw him, he didn't really see him. He saw Spike.
"Bastard... not enough that he pisses away his own life, now he's got to screw with mine."
XXVI. 26. What an unlucky number.
2 x 13, Faye would say, double the trouble.
Faye... the woman was like ice... no, not ice, ice was indifferent, ice was unmoved, Faye hated him with the passionate intensity of a raging fire. He was unworthy to breath, less than dirt, the lowest common denominator. Even if he could live with Jet's comparing him to Spike, he could never live with it from her.
Corbin recalled their parting. He'd already said goodbye to Jet, who'd given him the Swordfish II, saying that it was "only right that it go to someone Spike would have thought worthy to pilot it," and who was more worthy than he? At first, he hadn't thought that she would see him off at all.
There was an instant there, when they were close, there was such a familiarity in their partnership, he knew exactly what to expect from her, and she from him. When they went up against Dimitri, they worked like they had been doing it for years. And then, when they got back, she shut down quicker than an unstable reactor core, and he was back to being the intruder and, he suspected, the painful reminder.
She did show up, though, dressed all in black, like she was mourning, John had been gone when they returned, Corbin was sure she partially blamed him. She flashed him a bitter smile through his windshield, and mouthed "see you, Cowboy." Suddenly his mind was filled with images of emerald eyes, luscious red lips, and short dark hair. He had a brief flash of her, water cascading over her naked shoulders, as she pointed a gun at him.
His eyes flew open, as he halted his train of thought. No sleep tonight. Not for a while anyway.
He uttered a brief curse, then threw the covers off of himself, and wandered to the kitchenette of his hotel room, to make himself a pot of coffee, humming the tune to U2's `Mysterious Ways.'
Jet had told Corbin that he was always welcome on the Bebop, told him to call if he needed help, told him that he would always be there if he needed anything. Still, he hadn't expected to hear from the clone so soon.
"Jet," came the gritty voice over the phone, "I, uh, this is going to seem really weird..."
"What is it?" Jet tried not to sound overly concerned, but, Corbin looked like he hadn't slept in the whole month since he'd seen him. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise. What was wrong?
"God, this is going to sound crazy, Jet, but I'm having strange dreams... not bad dreams, that I can deal with, my head is stuffed full of Spike's memories, and my own of the lab... no, it feels almost like, I don't know, someone's calling me." He shook his head, " I do sound crazy. Listen, I'm sorry I bothered you, forget it." And without so much as a good bye, he cut the signal.
Faye hadn't been home in almost a month, and she wasn't about to start now. Why should she bother, when John wouldn't be there to greet her... no one would be there. Once again, she was all alone.
Not that she was bitter about the break-up, she'd known it was inevitable ever since Kataki had said the name Spike. She just would have liked him to be there when she got back from destroying the Lansing-Metcalf laboratory. Not that she wanted to stop him, she just wanted a chance to explain. Instead she returned to find that he'd left. Maybe he thought talking to her would be too painful, but it was never Faye's intention to cause pain, she couldn't help that her scarred, beaten heart was incapable of loving him. Sometimes she was angry that he'd robbed her of closure in their relationship, but usually, she was ashamed that she'd led him on for so long. That's why, when he didn't call, she made no move to contact him.
No, there was nothing for her there, not now. Not since she'd already moved her blue glass coffee table and torchier floor lamp into her quarters aboard the Shadow Wolf. The V.R. unit sat beneath her bed, gathering dust, how could she use it, when the visions it showed her were as phony as the ones out here. They were no more real than...
"Corbin," she whispered. She wondered what had happened to him, after the Dimitri incident. He packed up and left the next day. Had he kept in contact with Jet? She wondered, and instantly felt ashamed of herself. Why should she care what happened to Spike's shadow, when Spike himself was gone? Why should it matter?
"Miss Valentine?"
Faye jumped at the sound from the other side of her door, then breathed deeply. Of course, Irma would have finished dinner by now. The petite woman had come to stay with Faye after, well, after Faye killed her lover. Faye decided to give her a job as her assistant. She was a sweet girl, who looked up to her. Irma thought Faye was a strong woman. Faye had no idea her disguise was that good.
"I've told you a thousand times, Irma, my name's Faye, you don't have to call me Miss Valentine," Faye said, sweeping the door open, and entering the hall.
"Sorry, Mi-, uh, Faye, Mr. Black's on the line for you, says it's important."
"Thanks, Irma, I'll be right there." she watched Irma's long hair wave as she walked back down the hall with something like envy, as she ran a hand through her own recently sheered hair. She'd gone for the Gina Davis, `Long Kiss Goodnight' look, less the bleach. It was a look that took a little getting used to.
She shook her head, bringing her mind back to the present. What the hell could Jet want?
"Father wants you, Number 26, Father says it's time."
The ghostly voice on the wind.
Corbin was standing over the edge of a canyon outlined in the pre-dawn light, staring into the depths beneath him. He found himself suddenly acrophobic, as he slid his foot behind him, he touched another edge. Then he realized he was on a tiny island of rock, surrounded by space. He began to sweat.
"Father says it's time."
A woman's voice, in the distance. Or maybe not so distant, since it radiated off the canyon walls, and reverberated in his brain.
And then a blinding light from the east. The sun was rising.
He turned from the searing light, directly into the face of a woman. She was pale as the face of the moon, and her hair was the color of flame. Fire and Ice.
"Come to us , 26, you know the way."
She kissed him with every inch of her, putting more than her body into the embrace. Putting her mind into it as well. Corbin tried to draw away, It was too painful, his head felt like exploding.
"Father wants you,": she said, from inside his mind. He felt his skull crack.
She pulled away, and Corbin doubled over, gasping for air. He spat blood, and ran his tongue over his lip. She'd bit him, and he hadn't even noticed.
"Why do you resist?" She said, her voice louder, booming, commanding. She grabbed his hair, and yanked him up, till they were face to face. "Why do you fight!" she was screaming now, her pitch steadily rising until it filled Corbins senses, becoming tangible, tastible.
"Go away. I'm in control, I'm in charge, don't tell me what to do!"
He screamed into his sheets, then sat up. The world paused for a second, while he realized that he was awake again. He ran his finger over his lip, but found no blood. It was only then that time started back up again. He breathed.
And breathed.
What was happening to him?
He scratched absently at the tattoo on his hand. XXVI. It was because of that tattoo that he had to leave the Bebop, the first place he felt he might have a home. Because he would always be Corbin 26 to them, never just Corbin. Despite all of Jet's generosity, Corbin knew that every time he saw him, he didn't really see him. He saw Spike.
"Bastard... not enough that he pisses away his own life, now he's got to screw with mine."
XXVI. 26. What an unlucky number.
2 x 13, Faye would say, double the trouble.
Faye... the woman was like ice... no, not ice, ice was indifferent, ice was unmoved, Faye hated him with the passionate intensity of a raging fire. He was unworthy to breath, less than dirt, the lowest common denominator. Even if he could live with Jet's comparing him to Spike, he could never live with it from her.
Corbin recalled their parting. He'd already said goodbye to Jet, who'd given him the Swordfish II, saying that it was "only right that it go to someone Spike would have thought worthy to pilot it," and who was more worthy than he? At first, he hadn't thought that she would see him off at all.
There was an instant there, when they were close, there was such a familiarity in their partnership, he knew exactly what to expect from her, and she from him. When they went up against Dimitri, they worked like they had been doing it for years. And then, when they got back, she shut down quicker than an unstable reactor core, and he was back to being the intruder and, he suspected, the painful reminder.
She did show up, though, dressed all in black, like she was mourning, John had been gone when they returned, Corbin was sure she partially blamed him. She flashed him a bitter smile through his windshield, and mouthed "see you, Cowboy." Suddenly his mind was filled with images of emerald eyes, luscious red lips, and short dark hair. He had a brief flash of her, water cascading over her naked shoulders, as she pointed a gun at him.
His eyes flew open, as he halted his train of thought. No sleep tonight. Not for a while anyway.
He uttered a brief curse, then threw the covers off of himself, and wandered to the kitchenette of his hotel room, to make himself a pot of coffee, humming the tune to U2's `Mysterious Ways.'
Jet had told Corbin that he was always welcome on the Bebop, told him to call if he needed help, told him that he would always be there if he needed anything. Still, he hadn't expected to hear from the clone so soon.
"Jet," came the gritty voice over the phone, "I, uh, this is going to seem really weird..."
"What is it?" Jet tried not to sound overly concerned, but, Corbin looked like he hadn't slept in the whole month since he'd seen him. He could feel the hairs on the back of his neck begin to rise. What was wrong?
"God, this is going to sound crazy, Jet, but I'm having strange dreams... not bad dreams, that I can deal with, my head is stuffed full of Spike's memories, and my own of the lab... no, it feels almost like, I don't know, someone's calling me." He shook his head, " I do sound crazy. Listen, I'm sorry I bothered you, forget it." And without so much as a good bye, he cut the signal.
Faye hadn't been home in almost a month, and she wasn't about to start now. Why should she bother, when John wouldn't be there to greet her... no one would be there. Once again, she was all alone.
Not that she was bitter about the break-up, she'd known it was inevitable ever since Kataki had said the name Spike. She just would have liked him to be there when she got back from destroying the Lansing-Metcalf laboratory. Not that she wanted to stop him, she just wanted a chance to explain. Instead she returned to find that he'd left. Maybe he thought talking to her would be too painful, but it was never Faye's intention to cause pain, she couldn't help that her scarred, beaten heart was incapable of loving him. Sometimes she was angry that he'd robbed her of closure in their relationship, but usually, she was ashamed that she'd led him on for so long. That's why, when he didn't call, she made no move to contact him.
No, there was nothing for her there, not now. Not since she'd already moved her blue glass coffee table and torchier floor lamp into her quarters aboard the Shadow Wolf. The V.R. unit sat beneath her bed, gathering dust, how could she use it, when the visions it showed her were as phony as the ones out here. They were no more real than...
"Corbin," she whispered. She wondered what had happened to him, after the Dimitri incident. He packed up and left the next day. Had he kept in contact with Jet? She wondered, and instantly felt ashamed of herself. Why should she care what happened to Spike's shadow, when Spike himself was gone? Why should it matter?
"Miss Valentine?"
Faye jumped at the sound from the other side of her door, then breathed deeply. Of course, Irma would have finished dinner by now. The petite woman had come to stay with Faye after, well, after Faye killed her lover. Faye decided to give her a job as her assistant. She was a sweet girl, who looked up to her. Irma thought Faye was a strong woman. Faye had no idea her disguise was that good.
"I've told you a thousand times, Irma, my name's Faye, you don't have to call me Miss Valentine," Faye said, sweeping the door open, and entering the hall.
"Sorry, Mi-, uh, Faye, Mr. Black's on the line for you, says it's important."
"Thanks, Irma, I'll be right there." she watched Irma's long hair wave as she walked back down the hall with something like envy, as she ran a hand through her own recently sheered hair. She'd gone for the Gina Davis, `Long Kiss Goodnight' look, less the bleach. It was a look that took a little getting used to.
She shook her head, bringing her mind back to the present. What the hell could Jet want?
"Father wants you, Number 26, Father says it's time."
The ghostly voice on the wind.
Corbin was standing over the edge of a canyon outlined in the pre-dawn light, staring into the depths beneath him. He found himself suddenly acrophobic, as he slid his foot behind him, he touched another edge. Then he realized he was on a tiny island of rock, surrounded by space. He began to sweat.
"Father says it's time."
A woman's voice, in the distance. Or maybe not so distant, since it radiated off the canyon walls, and reverberated in his brain.
And then a blinding light from the east. The sun was rising.
He turned from the searing light, directly into the face of a woman. She was pale as the face of the moon, and her hair was the color of flame. Fire and Ice.
"Come to us , 26, you know the way."
She kissed him with every inch of her, putting more than her body into the embrace. Putting her mind into it as well. Corbin tried to draw away, It was too painful, his head felt like exploding.
"Father wants you,": she said, from inside his mind. He felt his skull crack.
She pulled away, and Corbin doubled over, gasping for air. He spat blood, and ran his tongue over his lip. She'd bit him, and he hadn't even noticed.
"Why do you resist?" She said, her voice louder, booming, commanding. She grabbed his hair, and yanked him up, till they were face to face. "Why do you fight!" she was screaming now, her pitch steadily rising until it filled Corbins senses, becoming tangible, tastible.
"Go away. I'm in control, I'm in charge, don't tell me what to do!"
He screamed into his sheets, then sat up. The world paused for a second, while he realized that he was awake again. He ran his finger over his lip, but found no blood. It was only then that time started back up again. He breathed.
And breathed.
What was happening to him?