Vicious returns

I spoke with Vicious seldom during his time on Titan. It was so far away, both the audio and visual calls were marred by interference. I always came away from those calls feeling disturbed. Vicious never looked at the bright side of things.

The last time he called was the worst. Not only his sour demeanor troubled me this time, but the fact that I had cheated on him.

"Do you have any friends there?" I asked, to make conversation.

"Dead for the most part. I don't even bother anymore. What's the point? They're just gonna die. Human life has no value here, Julia. Hell, human life has no value anywhere. What's the difference if you kill a guy? He'll just die sooner instead of later."

"You don't really believe that."

He stared a moment before replying. His eyes were cold and bitter. "I think I do. I don't even remember what I'm fighting for; what the other side is fighting for. There's nothing to believe in. I just know I kill them before they kill me."

I looked down at my lap. "I…I can't believe that," I mumbled hesitantly.

"People are all murderers. If they're not, then they're all liars. Everyone's a liar."

We were both silent for a tense minute, then he changed the subject. "Spike taking care of you?"

Keep it simple. "Yes."

"He ain't come on to you now?"

I feigned shock. "No, of course not!" I really didn't lie—it was I who made the first move, after all.

Vicious gave a slight nod. "Good. Because you're all I have left."

"What about--?" I began

He held up a hand. "Good night, Julia. It is night there now."

"Yes, it is." I wondered why he had said that last sentence.

He ended the transmission without another word.

Another time, Spike and I were at a sports grill, dining on BBQ ribs. Television sets were playing all around. One was a constant news channel, and suddenly, they did a report on the war on Titan. Were soldiers getting disgruntled and disillusioned? They panned over a group of miserable soldiers sitting in a trench. "Hey, that's Vicious!" I pointed out, my mouth full.

"Well, what do you know, Vicious is a TV star now," Spike remarked, tongue-in-cheek. "I bet he won't even have time for us now."

Vicious looked right at the camera—and it felt as if he looked right through me. I shuddered. His eyes weren't just those of a victim—they were the eyes of the one who made others his victims.

These two incidents had me scared, although in the latter you could say he couldn't have possibly been looking at me. But I felt as though Vicious already had things all figured out about Spike and I.

The war on Titan was not over when Vicious came home. Frankly, he gave us no word that he was coming. Spike and I were walking back to my apartment, unconsciously having slipped our hands together; we were laughing and relishing each other's company. I felt electricity. I could tell, tonight he would not give me his attitude of being above making love.

Suddenly, we stopped. There, at the top of the short flight of stairs in front of the apartment building, stood Vicious, smiling at us sinisterly. We didn't have time to measure our reactions. We were startled before we could pretend not to be startled. And we knew. We knew that he knew that Spike and I had become more than friends.

I sat at the bar after my gig at the Birdland Grill. "Give me a stiff one," I ordered. "Something for when you've got to get up the nerve to confront someone."

"Vicious?" John, the barkeeper, asked.

"Yeah."

"Better make it a double."

So I took John's advice, and by the time I finished drinking, I felt easier about facing Vicious. He wasn't evil, after all—he could be reasoned with. So I thought.

I stood up on shaky legs, and someone reached his hands out to steady me. It was Spike. "I'm going with you," he announced.

"No, Spike, I can do this."

"I'm going," he stated firmly. "I don't trust Vicious anymore."

"Okay, fine," I muttered. "I've got my gun—I can always shoot him if things go wrong."

"Don't joke like that," he advised, taking my arm and escorting me to the door. "It may come to that one day."

I knocked at Vicious' door, Spike standing beside me. No answer. I knocked again. "Maybe he went out."

"No, he's there," Spike said, sure of his words. "He's just sulking." He retrieved his keys from his pocket, calling out in a loud voice, "Vicious, we're coming in."

No sound from Vicious, but I heard Poison squawk and ruffle his feathers.

Spike opened the door, protectively pushing me behind him so that he could enter first.

The room was dimly lit by candlelight. Between the sconces, Vicious sat, palms upraised, striking a meditative pose.

"Stop pretending you don't know we're here," Spike said tiredly.

Eyes still closed, Vicious smiled. I never took a smile from him as a good sign anymore.

Spike sighed. "Look, we have some matters to settle. Let's just get them out in the open."

Opening his eyes finally, Vicious stood. "You stole my woman. What is there to settle?"

"What are you—some little brat?" Spike demanded testily. "Sure, it hurts, and we're sorry it hurts, but be a man about this, will ya?"

Vicious pointed an accusing finger at Spike. "You never fucked a woman before in your life, why start with mine?"

"Vicious, I love her!" Spike proclaimed. "We love each other."

Vicious' lips curled up at one end, somewhere between a smile and a sneer. "I thought Julia loved me. She said so."

Maybe it was the liquor talking. "Women are all liars."

They both glared at me for a second.

"Look, we're not doing this to spite you!" Spike insisted, turning back to Vicious. "You know, if you really loved her, you would put her wants and needs above your own, instead of making her life a living hell."

But to Vicious, bowing out gracefully was an alien custom. "Hell? I'll send you to Hell, brother." He drew his sword.

I fell to my knees in front of Vicious. "Please, Vicious, stop this! Just leave us alone! Let us be! Please!"

He put the heel of his boot on my forehead and kicked me backwards. "You look pathetic begging."

"Just what do you hope to accomplish by this?" Spike tried reasoning. "Would us being dead really make it better?"

They glared at each other. Then Vicious lowered his sword. "Go your way. Do what you want, but not in public. I don't want to see you flaunting your little romance for everyone to see."

Spike pulled me to his feet. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

Vicious turned away, then whirled around, facing Spike. "Spike?"

"What?" Spike demanded, sounding irritated.

"Never trust that woman. She jilted me; she'll do the same to you in the end."

Spike's eyes narrowed. "Thanks for the advice, compadre."

I didn't care what Spike had said. There had to be some part of Vicious' consciousness or conscience which could be reasoned with. I considered going alone to his apartment, but felt sick with anxiety. So I left a message on his answering machine for him to meet me at Lincoln Park.

I sat on a bench near the duck pond. An anhinga was perched on a rock, spreading its wings to dry itself. "That one looks like Poison," Vicious said, from behind me. He hurled a small rock at the bird. It barely grazed the bottom of its left wing, fortunately. The anhinga made a guttural noise and flew across the pond.

"Vicious, that was cruel!" I chided.

He sat down beside me. "What do you expect from a man named Vicious?"

I studied his face. In his eyes, I could see nothing but hatred. Burning hatred. That was the only emotion he had left for me. I looked away. "It used to be that name was just a front to intimidate people," I reminded him. "It didn't fit every part of you."

"Maybe I'm just trying to live up to my name," he said, smiling thinly.

"But why? It has to be about more than just me and Spike—"

He stung my face with the slap of his hand. "I don't ever want to hear about you and Spike again," he informed me through gritted teeth. "Understood?"

I nodded. "Understood. Was it the war? Is that what made you this way?"

He stared silently ahead, as if waiting for the anhinga to come back so he could take a second shot at it.

"You used to seem to have a code of honor," I mentioned.

"From now on, my code's the reverse," Vicious said. "The reverse of what everyone's been taught. Good is evil and evil is good. Instead of 'thou shalt not steal', it's thou shalt steal. Instead of 'thou shalt not kill', it's thou shalt kill. Understand?"

"Vicious, I still care about you."

"No, you don't," he growled.

"Yes, I do," I stated emphatically. "You need help. Get counseling or treatment or somebody to talk things over with..."

Those icy eyes bore into me with a venomous glare. His hand flew up, and his fingernails dug into my neck. I tried to speak; I couldn't get any words out.

"Don't make me shoot you right here." It was Spike's voice. He was leveling his pistol at Vicious' earlobe. Vicious reluctantly released my throat. "I'd hate to ruin these nice folks' Sunday picnic." I looked around to see a small crowd of parents and kids, staring wide-eyed at us. "But they saw you choking her, so they know anything I do is in defense of this lady."

I jumped up from the bench and stood behind Spike, clutching his shoulder. "Spike!"

"I warned you not to talk to him, Julia," Spike chided.

"How'd you know I was here?"

"I overheard you talking on the phone."

Vicious stood up and took a few steps down the path.

"Where are you going?" Spike demanded, still aiming his gun at him.

Vicious held up his hands in an exaggerated, placating manner. "Hey, I'm not choking her anymore. I'm not exhibiting any aggression towards you. It won't be self-defense anymore if you shoot me, so I'm leaving."

New plans

I was in my bedroom, looking in the mirror—I could see Spike standing behind me.

"Julia…" Spike seemed unsure of himself, not at all cocky and cool as he liked to be. "I have something I'd like to run by you. A pro-a proposition. Some idea I have."

I smirked. "Yeah, what?"

"I want us...somehow...to have a life together. Maybe someday this whole issue with Vicious will be gone."

I shrugged. "Maybe. It's a wild dream, though. And we're really not asking that much."

"Will you be my wife?"

"Yes."

"You will?"

I smiled as warmly as I could. "Of course." I walked to him; held him in my arms.

"I don't have a ring," he said quietly.

"That's okay," I assured him.

"I didn't want to attract a lot of attention, hanging out at jewelry shops," he explained. "It's not that I'm cheap."

"You don't have to apologize. We'll get rings someday. We'll officially be a couple in God's eyes, and everyone will have to honor that."

"Except if they're serving the devil," Spike muttered.

"Don't ruin the moment." I turned and sighed. "I'd like to go away together. Start all over. Be like those people we saw outside church."

"They'll kill us," Spike stated glumly. "It's as simple as that."

"There must be some way we can change our lives! I'm glad I'm no longer a prostitute—and I wish you weren't a gangster. We'll find a way," I stated, afterglow making me feel positive. "If we love each other enough, we'll make it happen."

"I wish I could believe that," Spike said, buttoning up his shirt. "Unfortunately, this is the real world. We're not characters in a fairy tale, Julia."

"I know that!" I snapped, finally getting irritated at his downbeat attitude.

I was startled awake when Spike himself was startled from his sleep. He was sitting up in bed, sweating. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"I want to marry you, Julia." He sounded as if he were growling.

I blinked at him.

"It won't be all that different from now," Spike assured himself. "It'll just be 'official', like you said."

"I won't enslave you," I promised. "With nothing more to hide, we'll be freer than ever."

"As long as we don't have kids," he said worriedly. "Once we get married, you're not gonna trick me into getting you pregnant, are you?"

I hit him with a pillow. "No, silly!"

"You really don't mind? Not having kids?"
I shrugged. "I've thought about it sometimes, but I'm not one of those women who are obsessed with producing offspring. Besides, children need better parents than we'd be. So just go back to sleep."

The attack

Spike and I were in bed. We didn't expect the door to be kicked open—knocked right off its hinges. It was Vicious, and two henchmen. Vicious smiled, grabbing Spike by the shoulders. "The time for payback has come."

"Whatever you want to take out on him, take out on me instead!" I pleaded in a shout.

He smiled coldly. "But my dearest, I was planning on doing that anyway. Silly girl." He stepped closer. "I like it when you tremble. It turns me on."

Only several minutes after Vicious and his men had left could I bring myself to move from my seat on the floor, near the bed. I ached; I felt nauseous. I picked up a white sheet lying crumpled on the floor and wrapped it around myself... It was instantly stained with blood.

I stumbled over to the bed, where Spike lay unmoving. I pulled a blanket up to his waist. Suddenly, he clutched my arm. I looked at his face, but he was staring with one eye towards the ceiling. The other socket lay ugly and empty. The eye had been plucked out by that bird, that creature that Vicious carried with him.

Still staring, he spoke at last. "Did he hurt you?"

"I—" I began, but could not continue. Weeping would start if I did.

He turned over to look at me, and noticed the stained sheet. "You're bleeding."

"It's...it's nothing."

He lifted the sheets a little to examine my legs, and grimly noted my thighs were bruised. "He raped you," he said through clenched teeth.

I sobbed. I bent over on the floor and wept bitterly.

Spike sat down by me on the floor.

"You really should see a doctor," I advised when I had regained my composure.

"I will. They'll give me another replacement eye. It's no big deal," he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but shuddering with memories of his first surgery. But he felt worse for me. He had heard tales—how women who are raped are never happy again. Perhaps Vicious had stolen my joy and my peace of mind for the rest of my life. "You realize...now," he began slowly. "I have to kill him." Rage filled him so completely that his body trembled like that of a dog shivering in the cold, and water escaped in streams from his one eye.

I covered my face with my hands. "No!" I shrieked. "Don't! I knew you would say that."

"Then you know why I say that," he spoke earnestly. "Julia—the man who rescued you from the streets and gave you a career as a singer—he's already dead. Dead, buried, rotted away."

"I can't forget who he was," I told him through tears. "Even with what he did to me tonight. I can't forget." He used to be quiet, even shy, when dealing with me, at least.

"What he did to us tonight just proves to me the old person is gone. Up to now, like you, I had hoped the one we both loved would come back. That was just a stupid dream."

"You don't have to kill him," I insisted, all the while knowing it was futile to reason with him when he got in what I deemed his "avenger mode".

"Believe me, I'll be doing him a favor by killing him. There is a devil, Julia. I know it now. Because Vicious signed away his soul to him." He put an arm around my shoulder. "I wonder what the devil gave him in return."

Distracted by my past trauma, I nearly ran a red light, and had to screech my car to a halt.

Vicious had continued to taunt us, threaten us, but he didn't rape and mutilate us again. He was just "biding his time", Spike said. It was all I could do to make Spike bide his time, and not kill Vicious. "He didn't kill us. He could've killed us," I would argue. I wanted to believe that Vicious had become evil against his will, as ridiculous an idea as that was. Like maybe the devil took control of his mind.

"He's a cat, Julia. And we're his mice. He's playing with us. Trying to prolong our suffering."

I didn't want Spike to kill Vicious for another reason—I didn't like the idea of Spike being a murderer, even if he did it for me. I was no saint, and had always known Spike wasn't either, but he had never been a cold-blooded killer. Well, maybe cold-blooded wasn't the right word. He just might get away with slaying Vicious. A frontier mentality existed throughout the newly settled solar system. Sometimes the courts said it was okay to kill a man if he really "deserved to be killed".

"Please don't kill Vicious,' I pleaded, straddling his leg with my leather pants as he sat on the hard chair in the kitchen.

He put an arm around my waist, but his demeanor remained cold. His new eye shone with barely contained rage.

"Don't start an endless cycle of revenge," I continued.

"How's it gonna be endless if I kill him?" he muttered. "Is he going to harass me from beyond the grave?"

"I just…I just don't want you to become like him."

"I can never forgive him now. Not after he raped you. Sure, I betrayed him by stealing you—but sometimes people just fall in love and it can't be helped."

"I think I'm doing very well considering I'm a rape victim," I stated firmly. Then I smiled, as big a smile as I could.

"You're smile is forced," Spike told me solemnly.

I frowned. That came naturally.

"Julia, you're a remarkable woman, but..." He sighed. "..Vicious stole something from you that night. There's always a sadness about you, and a little of the life is gone from your eyes."

"The life's not all gone, mister." I tried not to think of the rape—I wasn't going to be one of those women who were depressed for life! But at odd moments throughout my days, it would enter my mind. My flesh would crawl, and I would shudder. I tried to lock those thoughts out as quickly as possible.

"No. He'll never take it all away. I'll make sure of that." I whirled around to face him. "Don't kill Vicious because he raped me," I pleaded once more. "When I was on the streets, I had to let lots of men...touch me that I didn't want to be touched by. And I've slept with Vicious before." I shuddered involuntarily. One more time, for old time's sake, he had said. "Why is this any different?"

"It is, and you know it."

I did know it. I had to deal with depression and anxiety that hadn't been there before the incident. I had not been able to share physical intimacy with Spike again yet, being sensitive and shy about sex now, but he had been understanding and patient.

"Spike, you said he made a deal with the devil. Don't you do the same."

"No, I won't do that," he promised. "I'm a better person for just having known you."

He rarely got mushy, so I liked it when he did. I kissed him.

"But killing a devil isn't making a deal with the devil," he said, ruining the moment. "It's doing God's work, if anything."

"Killing Vicious won't make the life return to my eyes!" I snapped.

"Then maybe this is about more than you," he said sullenly.

I sighed. "Spike, I've loved you because I always thought there was something different about you. Different from those you worked with. Something good, something noble. Now you're acting like just another hood!"

His eyes gleamed with anger. "Julia, if Vicious isn't killed, neither of us are ever gonna have a chance for a safe and happy life! Don't you hate him for what he's done to you?"

I lowered my head. "It's all I can do to keep from hating him." I looked back up, catching Spike's gaze. "But why is it, with you two, that violence is the answer for everything?"

"He's beyond the stage of reasoning now, you know that! Only a bullet through his head is going to convince him to stop—"

I slapped his face. "You're just as bad as he is!" I shouted, putting my hands on his shoulders and shoving. "C'mon, get out of my apartment, you bastard! Now!"

He let me push him out the door. Turning back, he said quietly, "I understand, Julia." Then he walked away.

"I don't think you do," I muttered to myself.

Then Spike had faked his death, nearly getting himself killed for real in the process. I had harbored him, and been ready to go with him when it was time for our escape. But as days went on, I sensed Vicious knew what was going on, and began having doubts about our fleeing. Surely Vicious would find us, wherever we may go. Flight might provoke an attack.

One fateful day, right before the escape Spike and I had planned ("It will be like watching a dream", Spike had said, using my own terminology), Vicious gave me the ultimatum—I must kill Spike, or he would kill both of us. For what I imagined was for Spike's own safety, I refused to meet them at our rendezvous, instead escaping into the night to flee on my own.

I bailed out on Spike. Left him wondering why I hadn't come, where I had gone, and if it was anything he had done that had driven me away.

Life on the run

I was sitting at the bar at the Blue Crow on Callisto, keeping watch on the male clientele out of the corner of my eye. They were keeping a safe distance, but I could feel their stares. Most of them were pretty ugly. What was I doing here?

Soon, they were doing more than sitting there, but circling near. "You know, not many chicks come to Callisto," one said, with menace in his tone.

"I don't want any trouble with you," I said, and tried turning back to my drink.

"C'mon, lady, all we want is to give you a real friendly Callisto welcome," another said.

"My boyfriend taught me how to defend myself," I said, looking over their heads to a few men who were watching on, but not joining in with the others' aggression. "He taught me how to do some damage."

"Oh, and where is he now?"

"Went away somewhere."

"Hey, listen, don't make no trouble for the lady," the barkeep advised. "It's guys like you who keep women away from this world, depriving the rest of us."

"Thanks," I mumbled.

The men were obviously friendly with the barkeep, because they returned to their seats. After awhile, I became aware of another man staring at me. I glanced his way. He had rather longish hair, and actually looked gentle and handsome. Still, I wasn't going to let my guard down. He smiled at me. I turned my head.

And sneezed.

"Bless you," he said.

"Thanks."

"People say 'God bless you' when you sneeze because they used to think you'd shoot out your soul when you sneezed. Saying 'bless you' got your soul back. Did you know that?"

"No. Someone must have forgotten to bless me earlier, because I feel like I've only got half a soul left."

"Better than none. I'm Gren."

"What do you want, Gren?"

"You need a bodyguard."

"Why can I trust you?"

"I'm gay. Not interested in getting my hands on any women. Helps living here."

"So how much are you charging for this bodyguard service?"

He shrugged. "It's a free service. I'm just trying to be friendly. Us sisters got to look out for each other, right?"

I chuckled and smiled. "Are you tough enough to take on those guys?"

"Hey, I was in the military for three years."

"You?"

"Hey, don't ask, don't tell."

Thus began our friendship.

As we stood at the door of my apartment, he looked sheepish. "All this time, I didn't get your name."

"It's Julia."

"Julia, really?" He looked amazed.

"You know someone else named Julia?"

He raised his hands to the hair above each of my shoulders, and ran his fingers through them. "Yeah, you're her."

I backed away. "I thought you were gay, mister."

He hurriedly withdrew his hands. "I didn't mean it like that. It's just that I served with…" He was hesitant to even say the name. "…Vicious."

I gasped.

He flashed me a lopsided smile. "It's a small solar system, isn't it?"

We went inside and I sat down on his couch.

"Who are you running away from? I mean, besides Vicious," he asked, in his intuitive and bitingly perceptive way. "Who are you trying to forget?"

"I'm not trying to forget him," I insisted. "I hope to be with him again someday."

"But you're still running away."

I sighed. "I have no choice. It's safer for us not be together for now."

He leaned forward. "I want to know more about him, sister."

"Oh, all right," I said, with reluctance, wondering how to begin describing Spike.

I stayed on Callisto awhile, palling around with Gren, until one day I thought I saw a Red Dragon out on the street. Gren and I said our tearful farewells, and then I escaped to the asteroid colony Tijuana. I did a short stint as a bounty hunter—it was easy to sign up to be one, and it was better than becoming a prostitute again.

Fatty River lived up to his name—he was morbidly obese. And while most overweight people that I have known are self-conscious about it, and want to lose weight, Fatty did not care in the slightest, and throwing caution to the wind, made every meal an orgy of food.

I met him while at a police station, after having cashed in a bounty. "So, you're the girlie who beat me to McQuaid," he said.

"Guess so."

"I think you owe me lunch."

"Don't think so."

"This is the second time in a row someone beat me to a bounty. Damn that Spiegel kid."

I looked up. "Spiegel? You don't mean Spike Spiegel, do you?"

"I think you were going to buy me lunch?"

I bought Fatty cheese sticks, breaded jalapeños, and potato bites, plus a double decker cheeseburger, a single cheeseburger, a breaded chicken sandwich, a grilled chicken sandwich, chicken tenders, four servings of fries, one serving of onion rings, and a jumbo chocolate milkshake.

Over the meal, he told me how Spike worked as a bounty hunter. It seemed our lives were intertwined even now.

"Yeah, he's been partners with Jet a few years now. Now he's got a new partner—some slinky young thing named Faye Valentine."

My heart skipped a beat. "Are they...they're not lovers, are they?"

"Handsome young buck and buxom young beauty living together on the same ship and endangering their lives together…you tell me."

"No, please, I need to know."

He sighed. "Actually, if they are lovers, that's privileged information between the two of them. Why, you had something going with him, little lady?"

I smiled close-mouthed. "That's privileged information between the two of us." I stood up. "I better leave before all my reward money goes to your dessert."

I was never an all-out bounty hunter, though. I didn't even have my own ship. I chose easy prey when it was convenient, or when I was hard up for cash. I stayed away from the more dangerous types, like terrorists and serial killers. Spike could take them down, but I didn't think I could.

I also heard Vicious was still alive, and still with the Red Dragons. It had been years—maybe Spike really had put the idea of killing Vicious behind him. I couldn't find out too much—I heard Spike and Vicious had confronted each other on at least one occasion, and Vicious had thrown Spike out of a high window, but Spike had recovered. Ah, Spike—always an inch away from death. I wished I could have been there to nurse him back to health. I wondered if he, too, had wished I were there.

Did he miss me? Did he think of me? Or had he put me behind him, and taken to rolling around in bed with that Faye Valentine woman?

Faye Valentine—what kind of name was that? Valentine? It conjured up images of some slut in red lingerie and fishnet stockings with garters. She just might be the one to kick his languid libido up a notch, and sex with her would be something fun, not a task, like he made it seem with me. But I had no right to judge. Still I prayed she had not stolen Spike from me.

Rahab

I was at a fast food restaurant on Venus. It was so crowded there were no empty tables. A kindly old man invited me over, and engaged me in conversation. I found myself blabbing out a lot of things I shouldn't have about my sorry life, but he was just a harmless old man, so no danger done.

"Why don't you come live with me?" the old man asked. "You can be my maid."

"Well, I don't know…" I said, leery.

He winked. "Don't worry, Miss, I'm too old to be interested in 'you know what' anymore."

I smiled. "I've known plenty of men your age who haven't given up yet." But I needed a place to stay. "What's your name?"

"Joshua Jenkins. And Caleb's at home—he's my basset hound. Old thing."

"I'm Julia Spire. Don't you need my references? I could've been a prostitute, for all you know."

"Well, if you were a prostitute, I'd call you Rahab."

"Rahab?"

"She was the prostitute in the Bible who helped some spies escape back to the Israelites. In turn, she was redeemed."

"Sounds nice. I'd like to be redeemed."

So I cleaned house for him, and made him meals, and we'd sit around the kitchen table and talk. He'd tell me of his philosophies and religion, and I'd tell him funny stories—not too earthy, though. So the days passed by—tamely but happily. Maybe this was what it was like to have a normal life.

"I've known many men in my life," I said, over a nursed cup of coffee. "But he was it. My one true love of my life."

"Then you must return to him," Joshua advised.

"But he's not a Christian. I thought you said—"

"You must at least tell him why you left, that it wasn't to hurt him. I had a gal leave me—she wouldn't tell me why for years. Finally, we spoke again—she told me her parents forced her. And all along, I thought it was something wrong that I did. You don't want him to feel that way."

"No. No, I don't."

Then one day, I came in from grocery shopping, to discover Joshua with his head down on the table, shot to death. I didn't think it was suicide—he didn't believe in it. It must have been the Red Dragons had found me out.

Panicking, I searched for Caleb, and found him hiding under Joshua's bed. I eased him out. I wasn't going to let the dog die, too. I opened the car door. "Come, Caleb!" I called, hoping the lazy dog would not disobey.

He seemed to understand the situation and leaped into the car.

I couldn't keep him, I realized as I sped away. As though by Providence's decree, I came across a nice, middle-aged couple, as normal as could be, unlike most of the people I ran into. They said they would take him in, and I suppose he's still living with them today.

Back together again

"Is this Spike your true love?" I remembered Joshua asking.

"Yes."

"Then you should be together."

I regretted that now, running out on Spike. It was time I took a stand. I returned to Tharsis.

Pursued by members of the Red Dragons, I was rescued by, of all people, Faye Valentine. I couldn't tell just from talking what Faye's relationship was to Spike, but I asked her where the local bounty hunters were. I gave her a message to pass on to him.

Faye didn't fail me.

I was reunited with Spike at the cemetery.

Spike never held me all this time that I was clutching him. I wondered if he was afraid of being seen in public, or had he lost some of his feeling for me?

"Let's go," he said simply, and pulled away. It was raining harder. "Is your car nearby?"

"Yes. Everything I need is in the trunk. I'm used to living with the basics now that I'm on the run."

"Good," he said, not turning around.

"You don't even know where you're going!" I protested, running up to him and catching him by the elbow. "My car is that way!"

He smiled slightly at this, and allowed me to lead the way.

We got in the car. I turned to him before turning the ignition. "Spike?"

He was looking at the floor. There was nothing of interest down there.

I tried again. "Spike!"

"Yeah?" He sounded reluctant to respond.

"Did I hurt you?"

"What's it matter now?" He was still gazing down.

"I know it seems like I deserted you, but…I thought I was protecting you."

"I know. It's Vicious' fault." He was like a child, sulking.

"You are miffed at me, aren't you?"

"It's been lonely these past three years—"

"Lonely? You have friends, don't you? What about Faye?"

He squirmed. "Faye? She's a tramp."

"Well, that 'tramp' saved my life." His eyes widened at that news. I continued. "And she passed on my message to you. She seems pretty decent to me. And besides that, she loves you."

Spike grunted. "Faye is in love with me? Did she tell you that?"

I folded my arms across my chest. "No, but a woman can always tell these things."

"What're you—trying to play matchmaker for us?"

"No, of course not! I don't want her stealing you."

"'Cause you're my woman, you know that."

I smiled. "Yes, I know."

"I don't sleep with her, if you're worried about that."

"Good. I just want you know she's an okay woman."

"Ah, she's getting better, I guess."

"Wasn't there a guy on board, too?"

"Yeah. My partner, Jet Black. Big, ugly guy with a mechanical arm. He's a good friend. Then there was this weird kid and this dog with no tail, but they jumped ship."

"See—you had plenty of company."

"Yeah, but no one who would sing me to sleep."

"You should know—I haven't been with anyone else, either. I feel like a nun."

"What about Gren?"

"Gren? You know about Gren?"

"Yeah."

"Well, don't you know he's gay? We were pals!"

"Actually, I did kinda suspect that when I met him. You didn't hear he died?"

I stared at him. "Gren is dead?" My eyes started to water.

"Hey!" Spike said soothingly, wiping one of my tears away.

"Vicious…?" I blurted between sobs.

"Yeah, he had something to do with it."

I nodded, and looked for a tissue or cloth to wipe my face with. When my tears had subsided, Spike said, "We really better be going. I wanna head over to Annie's, then—"

"What are we going there for?" I asked warily.

"I need to pick up a few things," he answered vaguely. "Then we'll go to the Bebop, and figure out where to go from there." Then he clammed up again.

His silence tormented me. Maybe it was just the tension of the dangerous situation we were in, or maybe he was still mad at me. I knew that, in spite of his being in love with me, there was always a small part of him that resented me. Resented me for curtailing his cool sense of pride and invulnerability. He wanted to think he needed no one in life, and that his body belonged to nobody, yet he had given in and given himself to me. Maybe it was pleasurable, yet it still stung him.

He had always been somewhat distant, the whole time I knew him, even with me. No one could completely own him; no one could completely know him. I just came close.

"Spike," I said, forcing myself, since it was such a sensitive subject. "In case they get us, read this." With one hand still on the wheel, I slipped him a folded piece of white paper.

His face screwed up in confusion as he quickly read it. "Julia, this is a prayer of repentance!"

"So, don't act like you don't believe in the supernatural. After all, you do consult fortune tellers."

"Yeah, well, I—"

"You do want us to be together forever, right?"
"Uh, yeah."

"Well, this is our guarantee—that no matter what happens to us in this world, we will be together in the next. Promise me you'll say the prayer."

"Okay, okay! I promise!"

"And that you'll mean it."

He shrugged. "I'll try." He was quiet again for a moment, then asked, "Julia, now that you've found religion, what do you want in a loser like me?"

"You're the love of my life, Spike. I made a promise to myself that you would always be."

Til death do us reunite

We were on a rooftop now. Spike was ahead, leading the way. Bullets flew around us. Searing pain—one had hit its mark! I fell. Jesus, I'm sorry for all the stupid things I've done. It was a prayer, not a curse.

I had forgotten the one main thing Spike had taught me: Keep your head down.. I felt amongst my feelings of terror and grief a sense of embarrassment.

I heard him scream my name, and at the moment, he was no longer a hard boiled bounty hunter or a jaded gangster. He was my boyfriend who had accompanied me to parks, concerts, cafes, and a million other fun places so far away from death. But what to say to him?

Spike ran up to me, but he knew there was nothing he could do. What to tell him, now that he had to face life alone? I looked into his mismatched eyes and could tell he would not make it. "It's all a dream…" My eyes closed.

"Yeah, just a dream," he said mechanically.

To my surprise, death felt like a warm embrace. I became aware that I was no longer lying on the roof, but was cradled in someone's arms. I opened my soul's eyes and saw a being clothed in white robes, his face too radiant to see clearly. I gasped, then looked down. Growing smaller and smaller was Tharsis. We were ascending.

The angel—that's what it had to be—did not speak. It deposited me in a grassy field, then continued its ascent alone.

I stood. "Hey, wait! Where am I? This can't be Heaven, and it doesn't look like Hell." I looked at my arm. My body was glowing with the residue of the angel's glory. I peered over the rim of a small hill. Below, on a flat surface, I could see Spike, as he continued on with his life. It was almost like television.

I watched in fascination as Spike returned to the Bebop. He talked with a man I realized was Jet, his partner. He told Jet a story of a tiger-striped cat who had lost its mate, then died. I recognized myself as the white cat. "Oh, Spike, I've destroyed you! I didn't mean to!"

Then Faye confronted Spike. One thing became clear from their heated conversation... "Oh, Faye! You really do love him! Poor girl!" It was the fear I had always had, but now somehow, I felt no jealousy, only pity for poor Faye, who pleaded for Spike not to go to his certain doom. "Spike, listen to her!" I shouted, unheard by the mortals whose lives I observed. "It's okay—I'm dead now. She's a good match for you; she'll take care of you! Don't kill yourself over a dream!" He walked on, unhearing of either Faye or myself. I felt as useless as Faye—she had given up firing her gun into the ceiling and had sunk to the floor, crying.

Spike always was such a stubborn ass.

I saw him fall at the Red Dragons' headquarters. I don't know the exact second he died. Maybe he fell because he was dead, or maybe he died during his fall. Maybe he felt his body hit the staircase, and the impact jarred his soul from his body. Maybe I had to watch him die, because I had been foolish and he had to see me die before his eyes.

I knew I wasn't in Heaven yet, because I sobbed.

Truly, I had destroyed the man I loved.

I felt a hand on my shoulder; it was warm. I turned to see another angel. This one's beatific face was clear. "Soon Spike will be here, and the others as well," the angel said to me. He gestured down at the roads which had just appeared out of the mist. One was narrow, straight, and full of holes and rocks. The other was a wide, paved avenue. "Each of you must choose one these roads. I will tell you now, the straight and narrow path is the right one. But you must tell nobody that, not even Spike. Just show them the roads and let them decide for themselves."

And then the angel faded from sight.

And so I waited for the time Spike and I would be together again. This time, we would not be long apart. And then we would be together, this time forever.