Disclaimer: See Chapter One.
Chapter Two:
A Visit from a Dead Man
She shifted the groceries precariously in her aching arms, fishing for her keycard, her shoulder leaning heavily upon her apartment door. Swiping the card just as her bundle was about to give way, she twisted the doorknob and stumbled across the threshold, slightly breathless, and bent to settle her bags upon the floor. Sighing, she brushed the wrinkles out of her blouse, kicking the door shut with the heel of her foot. "Susan! I'm home! The crowd at the market was just ridiculous today…" She grunted slightly as she stooped to reclaim her bags and take them to the island bar only a few feet away. "Must be the low prices on the fish. I got myself a hell of a bargain!" Brushing a few errant violet strands from her face, she began to unload the groceries, pausing when she didn't get a reply.
"Susan?" Canting her head to the side, she listened, and thought that, perhaps, she heard voices coming from the living room. Wary, she crept around the bar, canned goods in both hands, meandering through the dining room to a short hallway. She paused. Laughter. And a man's voice. What the…?
"Susan…?" She slowly entered the living room, wondering just what kind of door-to-door salesman had suckered her elderly sister this time. Susan, eyes shining, glanced up, her smile widening. "Faye! You're home early."
Faye's eyes narrowed, moving from her sister to the back of the man seated upon the sofa. He'd yet to turn and face her, though he'd grown oddly silent since she'd interrupted the little conversation. Susan continued to beam from her rocker across from him, one rheumatic hand clutching her cane, the other resting upon an armrest.
"Susan, what's going on?" Faye asked, not once taking her eyes off the man. Funny, she thought. Something about that hair…
Susan pointed to the guest with her cane, prodding him. "Go on, boy. She's who you're here to see, after all." She bobbed her eyebrows at Faye, chuckling at a joke it seemed only she knew.
Faye was instantly on guard, taking a step back, prepared to use the cans of vegetables in her hands as weapons if need be. A surprise visitor, for her? Nope, definitely not a good thing. "What is this?" Her voice was low, menacing.
The man stood, slowly, and Faye took the time to absorb every detail. It was as if the world clicked to slow motion. He was tall, and thin, almost painfully so; his suit had obviously seen better days, faded and worn from what had once probably been navy to more of a cornflower blue. As he straightened, he slipped his hands into his pockets, assuming a stance that sent chills up and down her spine. And then, of course, was the hair, a fuzzy, haphazardly kept green mess that begged for a barber's touch. The few seconds it took for her to recognize him seemed like an eternity, and she hoped that she was reaching until the last moment, when at last he turned around, a lop-sided smirk plastered upon his face. Wide, glassy eyes met his mismatched, hooded gaze, and in that moment, she could've sworn she was losing her mind.
"Hello, Faye."
The cans fell to the carpeted floor with a muffled thump, both hands cupping her mouth to stifle the gasp that escaped. Susan finally stopped smiling.
"Faye? Faye, honey, what's wrong?"
Faye didn't notice the tears that welled up and spilt over her cheeks as she lowered her trembling hands. Keeping her eyes riveted to the man before her, she spoke to Susan, her voice surprisingly calm in spite of her inner turmoil. "Sue, could you go to the kitchen and start putting some of the groceries away? There are some things that need to be put in the fridge."
Having already gotten to her feet, Susan gave her sister a fretful once-over before making her way slowly towards the kitchen, mumbling under her breath about how she hadn't changed a bit, still ordering her little sister around.
Faye waited until her sister was well out of earshot before speaking, her voice barely above a whisper, but no less harsh or menacing. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my home?"
Spike frowned. This wasn't exactly the reception he'd expected. Then again, he hadn't known what to expect, given the circumstances. He had to admit, the tears threw him a bit. As did the rest of her. She wasn't the same Faye he'd come to know on the Bebop three years earlier. Her hair was longer, framing her face and coming to rest just past her shoulders. Gone were the yellow hot pants. Instead she wore a form-fitting white tailored blouse, the cuffs rolled to just above her elbows, and rough silk taupe pants, modest matching boots completing the ensemble. She looked…respectable. He didn't think he'd ever seen her in so many clothes.
"Well? Are you gonna answer me, dammit?" Her hands had clenched into fists at her sides, though more tears and a cracking voice betrayed her coarse display.
Brows raised, he fished in his pocket for a cigarette, bringing it to his mouth, letting it dangle between his lips as he spoke, one hand fetching his lighter from his pants pocket. "You know damn well who I am, Faye."
She seemed to actually growl then, and in two strides, she had crossed the room ripping the cigarette from his mouth then following it with a resounding slap to the side of his face. The force knocked his head to the side and stung her hand. A sob broke through, just before she could cup a hand over her mouth. Closing her eyes, she forced herself to take deep breaths. I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not cry….
Spike brought a hand to his cheek, a crease forming between his eyebrows. Grinding his teeth to subdue the anger that welled up in response to her outburst, he shoved his hand into his pocket, narrowed eyes watching her, his curiosity not so easily subdued. "I suppose you think I deserved that somehow."
Were it not for the sofa separating them, she could have sworn she'd already have pounced him and wrapped her hands around his scrawny neck. To finish the job the Syndicate obviously had failed to accomplish. Keeping her eyes closed, she bowed her head, hands resting on the back of the sofa to support her, suddenly unable to trust her legs. Shocks of violet fell forward, creating a curtain for her to hide behind. "Get out."
The command came out as a raspy whisper, muffled by the lump in her throat, the tears in her voice. When he didn't move to obey her immediately, she threw her head back, crying out to the room, as though she were speaking to an invisible entity and not a real person standing right in front of her. "Get out of my home! Get out, get out!"
Spike's countenance was blank, thinking that perhaps he'd misheard her at first. When she began screaming at him, he backed away from her warily, caught off guard by her maliciousness. "Faye, what—"
Her hands covered her ears, blocking him out as she continued to shout. "Get out, you're dead! Get out, and don't come back! Leave me alone! Leave me alone!" She'd slowly backed herself into a corner of the living room, sliding to the floor in a sobbing heap, still screaming at him when she could catch her breath.
Frantic, but nearly angry enough to overlook her fits, Spike cursed, pivoting away from her and hastening out of the living room, blowing past a bewildered Susan, who was in the process of going to check on her panicking sister.
"What--? What have you done to Faye? Faye!"
Spike paused at the door long enough to cast an apologetic glance to Susan, who held a splayed hand over her chest, her brow crinkled even more with worry. "Tell her…tell her I'm sorry. Okay? Just tell her that."
"But—"
He never gave her time to respond, having already disappeared through the door.
