m(-_-)m Sorry! Although I had promised an update a week after the last chapter, certain circumstances prevented me from fulfilling it. I apologize to those reading the story, but I hope that you will understand. For the curious, more on this at the end, but for now, please enjoy this chapter!

* * * Ch. 7 – CARING IS CREEPY (The Shins) * * *


Although it's been nearly a month, Faye still hasn't left.

Yet, because she hasn't told anyone how long she plans to remain at the Bebop, it seems that she will leave any second. It makes me anxious. Because unless I know that she's here, unless I'm seeing her or know where she's at, I feel very bitter.

I can't believe I lose sleep over this as well, wasting my time wondering whether she will be gone when I wake up—I get tired of it very quickly. I try very hard to stop worrying over something that I have no right over, even if I'm mostly unable to do so. I understand that Faye's not here because things with Damian are over. Yet, I'm still fooling myself into believing that this change is permanent.

But if anything, I guess I have at least recognized this much: all I can do is pretend.

And maybe I'm finally learning not to get so hopeful over nothing. That's why, today, I finally decided to erase two things from my communicator. The first is the last contact number I have of Julia, the one that I got from her years and years ago. The second thing I will be getting rid of is the saved voicemail I have from Faye, the one I've grown too attached to just because it has her voice…

I don't make a ceremony of it. First, I go to the contacts list and delete Julia. Then, I open my voicemail and erase all the messages.

Because I need to stop.

It's been a good while since I accepted that Julia and I could have never been together to begin. It's about time I also give up on the idea that things will be any different with Faye. Since…I have no idea how I ever even considered starting to think about her as more than…whatever it was I thought about her…regardless of anything I feel now, I need to force myself to come to terms with this idea. I need to stop interfering. And I need to stop fooling myself.

But it's not like I ever get what I want. And my luck has it that as I hear the voicemail system say, "There are no messages," Faye walks into the living room. Faye, whose sole presence reminds me of every feeling I want to forget.

"What's wrong with you?" she asks crossing her arms over her chest and shifting her weight to her left leg.

I can't hide my displeasure. "Eh?" I say groggily, not even bothering to respond correctly.

"You look like crap."

"…I have enough reason to," I mumble thoughtlessly.

"What?" She asks somewhat annoyed.

I only grunt in response.

She walks around the couch and stands behind me. I feel her hands on my shoulders and then her breath on the back of my neck. My skin crawls and I hear her chuckling. Then, she whispers sardonically in my ear, "You. Are. A. Pain."

"I know," I answer as lethargically as possible, though I can't help but smirk momentarily.

She slides her hands forward over my shoulders and crosses them in front of me. Then, she glides her hands to her elbows so that my head is cradled tightly in her grasp. "I want to go," she says softly. "Even though neither you or Jet want me to go tomorrow. I want to go with you."

I stare at her hands and trace the length of her arms with my sight. The feeling of her skin on my neck distracts me. But I haven't closed my communicator and when it repeats, "There are no messages," I remember that I need to stop. I end the voicemail call but don't say anything.

"I'm bored of doing nothing," she insists. Then, she tightens her hold for a second while saying, "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, but. You can do whatever you want. Whether you come or don't come to the hunt tomorrow…I don't care." Then, I try to add jokingly, "It's your choice, so you don't have to try and seduce me." I wait for her to respond but she doesn't, so I unwrap her arms from around me.

A second after, she says sourly as she grips my shoulders, shoving me forward aggressively, "Who would try to seduce you?…I was hoping that if you said no, I could try to choke you until you agreed."

I have to crane my neck back to look at her standing behind me, "Well, there's no much need for that, so you can stop getting so close." I smirk at her, "What? You think you can do this just because I let you cry on me once."

I watch her eyes grow a little bigger before I have to shut mine, the palm of her hand landing forcefully on my face. It stings. But not as much as I know that it could. Afterwards, her hand sits motionless on my cheek. I open my eyes again and see her. But I'm unable to discern her expression.

"Does it bother you that much?" she says evenly.

Rather than anger, her tone of voice makes me resentful.

"What do you think?" I answer, "Isn't it bothersome to have someone annoy you like this?"

Her expression changes slowly, like if she were unable to maintain her composure. Her eyes shut a little, the water collecting at the corners. Watching this, I feel the guilt building in my chest. I clench my jaw, unsure of what to do next.

Suddenly, she smirks.

"You really are a pain," she hisses with a snide look on her face. She removes her hands away from me. I'm about to move my head down again when she suddenly jerks my chin upward with her left hand while covering my eyes with her right.

I freeze. I can't do anything. I can't say anything. I can't even think enough to try and figure out how close she is to me, even if I can feel her hair falling on my lips. I wonder if I'm blushing. Otherwise, I don't know how her hands could feel so cool against my face. But I don't have much time to do anything. She shakes my head while keeping me blinded and repeating, "you're a pain," over and over again.

Finally, the gears in my head start turning. I catch her wrists and she stops shaking me immediately. I try to move her hands away from my face but she has always been a lot stronger than she appears to be. Hence, my first attempt ends in failure. "Stop," I tell her, feeling that if she doesn't, I'll have a deep relapse into believing something that isn't.

"So it's fine if I go?"

"I already said that you can do whatever you want. Why the hell does it matter if I agree?"

"Because!" she says finally breaking her hands away. She walks around the couch slowly and sits, letting her body fall heavily and much closer to me than I feel comfortable with. She glances at my torso and says, "Even though it's been so long, the last time, nothing good came out of it."

"Are you apologizing?" I blurt quietly while trying to rub the feeling of her hands away from my eyes.

I thought she wouldn't hear me, but she says, "No. I just. I really want to do something but if it goes wrong…" Then, she looks at me before taking a hold of my wrists. She grips them tightly to stop the movement of my hands over my face.

I don't know whether she's still doing this because she's trying to bother me, or if she's seriously annoyed by my deterrence of her. Whatever her reason, I really want her to stop touching me. Because of that, I end up stating, "…rather, aren't you worried about finding out that you can't do things like you used to?"

Faye hastily retreats her hands to her lap while she falters, "…that…that's part of it. But-"

"I haven't changed my mind since the first time you brought it up," I say, colder than I intend. "So, just do what you want…In the end, if you wind up killing me or whatever, I really don't care."

"…I'm going," she states as seriously as I had spoken. "But…if something goes wrong…well, then, don't you dare blame me for it."

"Are you talking about that last hunt we did? When did I ever blame you for what happened?"

"Really?" She says incredulously. "Your memory can't be that bad?" She stares at me then says, "When Damian first came here. Though you didn't specifically blame me, it was obvious."

I think back on that night, but the only thing I can remember is the dream in which I was making Faye mine. I look away from her, "…did I?"

"Don't play dumb, Spike."

When I finally remember, I realize that I had said it entirely from bitterness at seeing her and Damian together. But what's worse is that by thinking about it, the same, unpleasant feeling begins flickering inside of me again. I begin to feel uncertain and consciously move my focus further away from Faye. To justify myself against this…guilt, if it could be called that, in hopes that it will somehow change something, I say, "Then…sorry…it wasn't your fault."

Faye is completely taken aback. But she doesn't fail to respond, "And why are you apologizing now!" She hesitates, but touches my shoulder very briefly, just enough to force my attention back to her. Then, she says very assuredly, "If it upsets you when I apologize, what makes you think I would think any differently if you do it, idiot!"

I look away from her eyes again as I lie, "I figured…if I said something like that, you'd leave me alone…I'm tired. So I want to rest."

She rises from the couch quickly and stands in front of me so that I'm forced to face her. "Seriously," she says annoyed, "the only thing that makes me want to do is slap you again." She crosses her arms and says, "You know, I can tell you're lying…Don't you ever get tired of being by yourself? Lately, there's something really odd about you."

"You read too much into things. I'm just tired and-"

"Spike," she interrupts calmly. "You don't have to justify yourself to me. Though I do wish you wouldn't try to make a fool out of me like this." She starts walking away and says, "Anyway, if you want to be left alone so badly, you can just say so…I really don't know what's wrong with you, but somehow, it kind of freaks me out."

I watch her leave quietly, but as soon as she's out of range, I can't help but laugh. Thankfully, I'm over accepting my position in all of this. Otherwise, I don't think that I could take it so easily. I had never realized how nice it's to know what I feel, since now I can laugh at myself for it.

For the rest of the trip I don't see Faye. But through it, I wonder, if she only knew what was really wrong with me, what would she do then?

When we land on Earth it's nighttime and much colder than I had expected. No one in the ship does anything and in the end we all go to bed early. However, by the time it's noon the next day, it's hot as hell and we all end up grouping on the deck, which turns out to be the coolest area of the ship. I have to take my coat off, though I still carry it around out of habit, and roll the sleeves of my shirt. Ed, being Ed, resorts to playing with water while pretending to bathe Ein. Faye gives up her modest attire for denim shorts and a wife beater. She nearly cuts her hair too, but ends up tying it into a bun instead. Somehow, Jet seems to be the only one unphased by the heat.

We loiter around doing nothing, but just as the day is turning from hot to scorching, Jet decides that we can't delay any longer. We leave the Bebop and make our way into town. It's small and dusty and if it weren't from the stench of the occasional dumpster, it would feel entirely like a ghost town.

But I suppose that's the closest thing it is since the town itself is a safe house for criminals, most who have pretended to die in order to flee their persecution. When the government declares them as dead, usually whatever bounty exists on their head also dies. Hence, we make zero profit if we capture any one of them. Instead, it's the few citizens of the town or the criminals themselves that end up making the profit. For a price, they trade information and rent out equipment. And for a good sum, they're usually not too hesitant to give out the location of the bounties that haven't bothered to fake their deaths yet.

Fortunately, we know where to find our bounty, a grotesque rapist and murderer known as Sam Pittman. According to our sources, he manages a small gas station in the middle of nowhere some forty-five miles away from the current town. The station only serves small vehicles; so to reach him, we can't use any of our ships. Pittman's job, as it turns out, is to make money out of bounties that are trying to get away, while he still is very much open for hunt.

I don't like dealing with the people around the town much. So, I let Jet do most of the talking. And having noticed that it is much cooler than being inside, I wait outside of the building as Jet tries to make a deal to rent a jeep with the owner of the shop.

Faye joins me shortly, but nothing much happens. We don't speak to each other, though it's not necessarily that we're doing it on purpose or out of anger. It's just something that always seems to happen. Prior to any hunt, we'll just stand or sit around for a few minutes while smoking in silence.

Though we had lit them seconds apart, Faye finishes her cigarette before me. She crosses her arms and waits silently. I glance at her a few times, noticing that she must be nervous about deciding to come along. But I don't do anything to try and ease her situation. She is the one that chose to come. Even if I've ended up as her partner, I don't know how much I should interfere with her decision. And to an extent. It's something that she has to deal with by herself.

Just as I finish my cigarette, Jet walks out of the building. He hands me the keys while saying, "It's the dark blue jeep with the bench seat. Hurry up and get going, otherwise, it's going to get too late. I'm going to get back to the ship and make sure that Ed's got the coordinates ready to guide you if we end up needing them."

Faye and I walk around the building and find our vehicle parked where the sun hits it most. It's visibly old, but I guess it's better than nothing. I stare at the keys on my hand for a second and glance at the dark, worn leather seats. "You want to drive?" I ask Faye.

"No thanks," she says dismissively while walking towards the passenger side. "There's no way I'm burning my hands with that steering wheel. Besides, I'm not just going to let you sleep while I do all the work." Then, she says mockingly, "I mean, since I bothered you so much yesterday, you must still be tired, right?"

I don't respond. Instead, I walk towards the driver's seat and open the door. Before I sit down, I decide to throw my coat over the seat. I turn on the engine, but Faye still hasn't taken a seat. "Hurry up," I tell her.

"The seat," she responds, "burned my skin…" She rubs the back of her thighs, "Only an idiot would park this thing in the sun."

"You think so?" I say sarcastically. I watch her as she stares at the seat. And although I'm a bit irritated, I pull the coat from underneath me and toss it over to her side. "Come on," I urge her again. "Stop wasting time."

She finally sits, making sure that my coat protects the exposed skin of the back of her thighs. I glance at her and notice the small smile on her face as she adjusts the fabric. I feel stupid as I watch her, realizing that I had played directly into what she wanted. I decide that, for my sanity, I would just let the mistake slip. And once Faye closes the passenger's door, I pull out of the parking space and take a road that leads us out of town.

The air is stifling, so moving doesn't change how hot it feels. In fact, it may only be worse. My lips are dry. And it doesn't help that there's no roof and that, after a few minutes, my knuckles and neck start to burn. Besides me, Faye's shoulders are also noticeably blushed. But after the seat has sufficiently cooled, she takes my coat and throws it over herself, making sure her arms and neck are covered. From time to time, she pulls lip gloss from her pocket and applies it over her lips. I can't figure out exactly what it smells like, so I can't help but notice it every time Faye uses it.

Ed and Jet call us from time to time to check our progress or to guide us along the faint road system of the area. And only a few seconds after they call, Faye and I will say a few words to each other. Simple things. What did they say? Are we in the right track? How much longer until we're there? But not much of anything else.

After about ten minutes of hearing nothing but the bumpy road under the wheels, Faye's communicator rings. I glance at her quickly as she lifts it up from her lap. I keep my gaze towards the road, expecting a moment of waiting before figuring out if anything has changed. I hear the clicking of a key. Then, nothing happens. Faye returns the communicator back to her lap and lifts my coat over her head again.

I glance at her before looking at the road. "That wasn't Jet?" I ask.

"…no," Faye says nonchalantly.

"…I see…" I answer. It seems like a minute passes before my curiosity gets the best of me. I know I'll probably hate the answer, but I ask, "Damian?"

Faye continues looking forward and answers slowly and casually, "Yeah…I finally answered his call this morning…so, he must think I will answer again…it was a bad idea. Right?"

I laugh a little and don't bother to look at her face, "It matters what I think?"

"I guess not," she responds looking at me. "But lately…it helps a lot more than just thinking by myself…" I meet her yes. "Ugh," she reacts shaking her head. "But you don't care, Right? Nevermind. I'll leave you alone." She picks up my coat and re-wraps herself with it, this time making sure that she shelters her face away from me.

I want to reach over and yank the coat away from her. Although at this point, I think it's just better to do nothing. So instead, I exhale quietly, removing all the stress from my mind.

The drive doesn't change much and twenty minutes later, we spot Pittman's station. It's a small building made up of additive rooms to a single adobe base. There are only two pumps on the outside and piles of tires sit on the side of one of them. Behind the main part of the station, there are three large storage buildings.

We park by the open gas pump and step down of the vehicle pretending that we're costumers passing by. I look at the gas pump, but it isn't self-serve. Faye comes around and we wait to see if anyone will attend us. After a while, it seems that Faye and I are the only ones present.

"Let's check inside," I tell her.

"Okay," she says.

The door to the shop opens easily. When Faye and I step inside, we see a fan running, sitting on the edge of an open window behind the check out counter. Somewhere in the back, a radio plays country music. I look through the small isles but there's no one. Suddenly, a door from the back opens and a woman in her mid-twenties enters. She's kind of petite but wears a large pair of worn, denim coveralls over a red tank top; around her waist, she ties a heavy flannel jacket.

"Sorry, I hope I didn't make you guys wait too long. I was cleaning up a mess." She picks up a white cap and covers her chin-length, brown hair. "But I'm here now so if you guys need anything just let me know."

"We will," Faye says. She glances at me and I can tell she's thinking whether or not I took a wrong turn somewhere. She walks to me and stands very closely. She picks up a package of painkillers and turns the bottle in her hand. Then, she says. "Is this it?"

"I don't know," I tell her, also looking at the medicine. "What do you think?"

"I thought you would know…"

Although I'm sure that we're in the right place, I wonder if Pittman is even in today. "I don't know anymore than you…" I say.

"I'll call home and check," Faye responds. She dials and walks around the isles, still holding on to the bottle of painkillers, through the conversation. When she hangs up, she places the bottle of medicine on my hands and says. "This is it."

But even if she tells me we are in the right place. What are we supposed to do if the person who was supposed to be here is nowhere to be seen? Sure, we didn't have an image of the man. But the description stated a robust man with great agility.

I walk to the check out counter and place the package on top. "We'll take this. And could we get some fuel."

"Will that be it?" the woman asks.

"Wait," Faye says. "Can I see if there's anything else we need?"

"Alright," I tell her, "try not to take too long."

"Well," the woman says, "let's go take care of business."

I follow her outside and I ask her to fill the tank up. Then, I stand a little ways away from her, pretending that I'm checking my communicator.

Suddenly, she asks, "Who's the pretty gal with you?"

I look up from the screen of my communicator, vaguely saying. "She's my sister."

"You guys don't look anything alike," she tells me as she begins fueling. "If you had told me she's your girlfriend, I would believe it more…If you're running away from someone, don't worry, I won't tell. You people are what give me a living. You know, people running away from something or someone, that seems to be the only clientele to come around here."

I can tell how unconvinced she is, and I really can't blame her either, so I decide to take a different approach. I laugh quietly. "If that's the case, then we're in the right place…" I don't want to back down on what I've already told her, so I continue, "But you're wrong in that she's not my sister."

"Sheesh, you're just like my brother, trying to lie your way out of things." She laughs, "Even your hair and nose looks the same."

"I look like your brother?" I ask quickly. Could it be possible that her brother is the man we are looking for?

"Yeah," she says shyly, "a little…" She meets my gaze, "But you're lying, aren't you?"

"Nah, I'm serious," I say hesitantly, "but…it's one of those hard things to explain and people tend to look down on us for it."

Her reaction surprises me.

"Will you tell me?" She says excitedly. "You've made me really curious, now."

But I'm the one who's become the curious one since I don't understand her enthusiasm. And to make things worse, I hadn't thought ahead any further than what I had already said. I take a few seconds, pretending to figure out a way to explain.

"She's my step-sister," I begin, "the daughter of my father's current wife and her ex-husband. My father married her mother when we were teenagers, but since we're not blood related, we just never saw each other as brother and sister. But you know, people don't see it that way."

"Ah!" she says breathlessly, "it's one of those forbidden love things, right? Honestly, I don't blame you and I just can't understand why people make such a big deal about it. It's tiring dealing with it…I bet."

I nod.

From her expressions, I can tell she is responding honestly. Except, she believes everything much too easily to give me comfort…I wonder, is it possible that she is in love with her brother? With the way she sympathizes with me and from her reactions before, I wouldn't dismiss the idea.

Regardless of that, I need to gain her trust. And if she believes what I've said so far, I need to continue.

"…Yeah, we got tired of hearing things so we ran away. It feels like forever now."

She smiles, "So what do you guys do now?"

"She's my partner," I say. "We cheat casinos out of their money…you know…false coins…counting cards…things like that. They nearly caught us so we're trying to stay low for a while. We have two other players but it didn't end up so well for them. One got beat up pretty badly, which is why we're looking for painkillers in the first place."

"Wow!" she responds. "Truthfully, my family is also in a lot of shady business. But about you and her. Partners…did you guys decide to stay siblings or do you do more than, uh, play poker?"

I laugh, "What do you think?"

She giggles.

Just then, Faye opens the door, briefly stepping outside to say, "Spike, can you come here for a second?"

I excuse myself and walk back into the store.

As soon as I enter, Faye pulls me by the arm and drags me into a corner of the store. I try to explain to her what I've just found out. However, she hastily covers my mouth with her hand and pulls me with the other to her height. I glance at her annoyed, wondering whether she's going to make a habit out of holding me like this.

She whispers very quietly, "It's her."

I glance at the window and then back at Faye. She nods her head. "Trust me," she says, slowly removing her hands from my face.

But I can't.

For me, there are too many things that have changed and I can't blindly accept that she is telling me the truth. I glimpse at her. Yes, Faye's become someone I've grown overly careful of. But the blind trust that I had in her died the moment I heard she was in love with someone else. Not because I am resentful. It's simply because, at that moment, I realized that I don't know her anymore.

I'm unable to respond to Faye. She looks at me and is about to speak. However, the woman I'm left to assume is Sam Pittman enters the store.

"Alright," she says smiling at me, "you guys getting anything else other than the fuel and painkillers?"

"Yeah," Faye answers placing a roll of duct tape on the counter. "This too."

"Okay," Pittman answers. She picks up the tape and looks it over. "Oh, this is the old price. Let me check real quick, I'm sure I've changed it." She kneels behind the counter, "Let's see, the product list should be right here."

Faye faces me, her eyes nearly begging me to trust her. I look away, hastily turning to the counter again. Just as I do, I notice the awkwardness with which Pittman is moving. Whether she is or isn't Sam Pittman, there's something just not right.

I'm about to act but Pittman stands quickly. Then. I can't do anything anymore. Pittman stands solidly, aiming a shotgun at Faye. I'm unable to react quickly enough. And I'm left frozen with my weapon still hidden under my coat.

I curse myself. I should have listened to Faye. I should have believed her the first time around. So what if she's changed? Time changes everything. Even I've changed…for the worse it appears…And this mess we're stuck in…I'm the one who's to blame.

My blood rushes through my body, pumping so loudly that it nearly makes me deaf. What had happened? Does Pittman suspect something? How am I going to deal with Faye afterward? Will we even make it out of this?

"Step away from him please," Pittman orders Faye calmly.

"Fine," Faye answers moving a few feet away.

Faye glimpses at me, and first, I see her anger…but then her sight changes and I know she's asking me to do something.

And I want to do something. However, I don't want to risk her. The way things are, if I act now, she will be the first to suffer. If something goes wrong, what will I do? If she gets hurt. If something worse happens. How will I be able to deal with myself?

"Stop looking at him!" Pittman yells angrily. She takes a deep breath then, says normally, "You're only doing what I tell you know. So, just. Turn around."

I can see Faye swallowing uncomfortably as she begins to rotate. But even with her back towards us, I know that she's desperately trying to find a way to see what's going on behind her.

"Good," Pitman says after Faye stops her motion. "Good girl. That's how you're going to behave now."

I try to control my breathing. If I can calm down, I'll be able to figure out a way to get out of this alive. Finally, I ask, "Why are you doing this?"

First, I need to make sure that Faye won't be the one getting hurt from something that I'm to blame for. If I'm able to get Pittman to look away from Faye, her aim will be compromised. "If it's money you want," I tell her, "you heard what I told you earlier, we're dirt poor right now."

However, Pittman's eyes remain completely stationary, even when she responds. She chuckles, "There are other things that interest me."

"What's that?" I ask calmly. Yet, I'm desperately hoping that she'll make a mistake.

"Her."

"…her?" I ask confused.

Pittman smiles, "She's a beautiful woman..."

I'm left speechless for a second. Then, I say hurriedly, still hoping to break her focus, "That's because you don't know her. She's actually a really crude woman…She never shuts up. And her skin. She's always having to use lotion because it's so dry…She's a very cold woman too. Once, she had a boyfriend, but she didn't let him touch her."

"You don't have to say all that!" Faye says angrily.

"Shut up!" Pittman tells her.

"See," I say. "Even though she's in danger she still says useless things."

"I don't mind any of that," Pittman answers unconcernedly. "Besides, it's better that way. The quiet ones aren't as fun. They don't struggle when I play with them. And their eyes, you have to force them open sometimes."

I don't want to understand what she's just told me. I feel nauseated, though I can't figure out if it's out of nervousness or disgust…I don't know what else I could say, so instead I step back, hoping that the motion will distract her.

"Don't move!" she commands me. But her eyes and aim are still perfectly set on Faye. "If you move. I'll shoot."

There. Why hadn't I noticed it before? I breathe slowly. I say, "Then, shouldn't you aim at me? If you shoot her…You're interested in her, not me. So if I'm the dead one, you still have her like you want. Right?"

Pittman laughs, "You really are like my brother…Always thinking you know what's best…But this is getting boring now. Hey you?" She tells Faye, "Can you turn around please?"

Faye moves very slowly. But instead of looking at Pittman, her eyes are focused on me. Once I notice this, I force my attention on the shotgun, fighting very hard against myself who wants to look back at Faye. Pittman licks her lips. When Faye stops moving, Pittman smirks. Then, she glances at me for the first time. Which means. The barrel will move. Any second now. Just. A bit. There—I move away, draw and take aim at her quickly. She fumbles a little, shoots and misses my shoulder.

We stand there, aiming at each other, trying to catch the smallest mistake that would give one the advantage.

"You think I'm afraid of this." But by the time she finishes saying this to me, she realizes that Faye had taken aim at her during her initial fire. "Well, this is expected…" Pittman continues, "but it's not as if it will help any. Because, you know neither of you are actually going to shoot. Do you want to see him die?" She addresses the last part to me, "How about you, do you want to risk dying and not be here to protect her afterwards? No, right? Because you know that, no matter which of you shoots me, there is an incredibly high possibility that I could at least kill you."

I don't answer her.

I really want for Faye to take care of herself. In this hunt. In the next, if she should ever have one. In whatever troubling situation she should find herself in….Except there's a deeper part of me that just can't see it this way…A part that wants to be there no matter what…But…is it really enough of an excuse to be swayed by Pittman's words?

Pittman shifts her weight.

"Don't move," Faye says somberly.

"As if I would listen to you," Pittman says.

And then. She aims at Faye. I stay dumbfounded. Motionless. Yes, Pittman moves quickly. But, I should know better. I should have taken the opportunity to shoot her. This is tiring. Why can't I concentrate?

I just. I don't know what I'm doing anymore. For the first time in a long time, I'm afraid. I'm really afraid. So. Doesn't this mean. I don't have another choice now. Because I don't want Faye to be hurt. And Pittman. She's going to hurt her.

I have to ignore my anxiety. I need to protect Faye. I have to listen to my rationale. That's why—I shoot. Pittman shoots. Faye shoots.

The widow shatters. Pittman curses. The shotgun fumbles awkwardly to the floor. It fires. Faye stumbles backwards. I shoot again. Pittman screams, letting her body fall through the broken window. I hear her landing and then stumble away.

I give a step forward, rushing to Pittman.

"Spike," Faye says airily. Or at least, that's what I think she says. And then, she falls on her knees.

I don't want this. I want her to say something more. To yell at me. Just something.

I hear Pittman cursing. I glance at the window. I know I should follow her. I know I should run after her and make sure that she doesn't get away. I know everything that I'm supposed to do. But I can't. Instead, I'm concerned about Faye. My worry becomes stronger than my will and I forget the problem of allowing Pittman to escape. Instead, I kneel besides Faye quickly. And I have no remorse to be doing something I shouldn't.

"Faye," I tell her as I manage to remove her hands from over her heart. In doing so, my thumb finds one of the veins of her wrist. Her heart is beating so fast. Exactly as fast as mine.

She doesn't react, so I call her name again. The way she's breathing makes me feel that she's hurt. Like the pain doesn't allow her to get enough air to fill her lungs. I look over her body but I can't find any traces of blood. "Did you get hit?" I ask her.

She shakes her head and stares at the ground between her knees. Now, I don't think she's breathing at all.

I lift her face up and force her to face me. It's become hard for me to speak well and I can only whisper, "You okay?"

She nods. But she's still not breathing.

I hold her shoulders and help her stand up. I don't know why, but as we stand, I instinctively regulate my breathing so that it is easy for Faye to hear. By the time we're up, our breathing has matched.

I don't want to let her go.

This mindset. This way of behaving. Does Faye dislike it? Does she thinks it's creepy?

"Spike," she stutters, "I…" But she has to stop speaking so that she can continue breathing. After a few slow breaths, she faces me with uncertainty. I realize that she is able to stand, and so I force myself to release her.

"This is my fault," Faye says quietly, "I'm being stupid over nothing so…let's find Pitman now." She turns away from me and dusts her knees. I want to stay besides her, but I feel that if I stay, I will want to hold her again.

I walk around the counter and see the damaged shotgun covered in Pittman's blood. My glance follows the sticky trail across the window. I look around, carefully maintaining myself away from an angle that would be dangerous in open fire. But I can't see Pittman. Even the trail of her blood dies just a couple of feet away from the window. To make things worse, I can't find any impressions of her feet on the rocky surface. Further out, there's only sand. So if she got that far already, the wind may make it impossible to track her.

"Anything?" Faye asks carefully approaching the window.

I don't answer her. There has to be something. I should be able to find some sort of trace. I should know what to do next.

"There's nothing," she tells me.

But I don't want to listen to her.

"Spike."

"Yeah," I say, much rougher than I intend, "I get it." Even though my mind can't settle on not knowing where Pittman is, I walk away from the window. "…it hasn't been that long. She has to be nearby. Maybe she's hiding somewhere." I hear a strange noise behind me. I follow it and hear it behind the door from which Pittman first emerged. I'm nearly certain behind it should be the home section of the building. Could it be possible for someone else to be there?

Faye follows my steps and says, "As long as it's not an attic."

I turn the handle of the door. It's locked. I kick the door down and do a quick sweep of the room. Faye covers my back.

There's a couch in the middle. A television sits on a corner of the room. Across it, there's a small sink and a heating plate. The floor is covered in mossy, green carpeting. The floral wallpaper is falling from the corners of the walls. There is only one door leading outside. I look through the room again. I see the coffee maker running and realize it's the source of the strange noise. But the room is clear.

"…an attic?…I don't think that will be the case," I finally answer.

"But if there is an attic—"

"I know, I know," I interrupt her, "you won't be the one to enter the stupid attic first." I look up at the ceiling. There's a single lightbulb suspended in the middle of the room. It's hanging from a hook, with an extension cord running to a socket in the wall. "…There is no attic."

"Lucky us," Faye says sarcastically as she stares at the ceiling. "How long ago was that anyway? I can't believe you still remember."

I walk around the room, glancing outside through the mesh of the fly door. "It's not something so easy to forget. We were nearly charged with murder."

"Still…"

"I would think that you would remember it better than I would. After all, that's the first time you met Damian."

"Why do you bring him up?"

"You're really asking that? You were there. He was there. You two have been together for so long, it's hard not to think of one without thinking about the other." I don't know what I was thinking with bringing this up, but now I can't shut up. I don't even remember what I wanted to say anymore. And now, it's just making me even more frustrated than I already am. But at least, I can tell it's making Faye angry too.

"That doesn't mean anything," she says irritated, "I don't bring Julia up just because I know you love her."

I love Julia?

That's true…I hadn't thought about that in a long time. I do love her. But only to the extent you can love someone that is no longer there. Not because I wanted to forget…I never wanted to forget. I wanted for her be the only person I would ever care about. I just simply couldn't.

I face Faye, "…Julia is dead."

She becomes visually uneasy. I think she's about to say something evasive. But I don't let her; I want her to realize this as well. Because, she still believes that I'm clinging to something that I can't.

I make sure that her eyes meet mine and I say, "It's the truth. Isn't it?"

She glances at the ground and avoids the question.

Just as I'm about to try and force an answer out of her, I hear something outside. Faye must have too because she quickly looks in the same direction. It's a sort of mechanical hum…something like a motor. But it's not running right, at first, it's like it won't start. We run towards the door and force it open. Then, we head towards one of the storage buildings. When we get there, there's only a trail of dust and a speeding motor in the distance.

"We should have looked there first." Faye says as we run back to the house. She opens the door and we rush inside.

"I told you she was nearby," I say dismissively.

We run through the green-carpeted room and make our way to the store. The doors swing as we move through. Being behind her, I can see back the of Faye's neck. With her hair pulled up and her skin exposed, it reminds me of the times when she had short hair. I shut my eyes and look away, hoping that I will quit being distracted by such trivial things. Just then, Faye stops and I run into her.

"Watch where you're going!" She snaps.

"You're the one stopping so suddenly," I retort back quickly.

She glares and places her hand on the duct tape left sitting on the counter. She picks it up, then, she continues running to the front of the building where our jeep is parked. She opens the door from the driver's side and slides into the passengers seat as I take over the steering wheel. It starts up easily and I rush towards where we'd heard Pittman last.

"Shit," I mumble glancing down at the dashboard. "It's not even anywhere near a quarter tank."

Faye laughs, "At least you didn't have to pay for it at all. And we have free tape."

"Why did you grab that for anyway?"

"You'll see," she says mischievously.

The tone of her voice forces my eyes off of the trail for a moment. When she's smiling like this, it makes me question everything that I had finally managed to settle. I catch myself staring yet again and turn away. I laugh at myself. Where had my determination to quit all of this gone? I wish I could give up on her easily. But somehow, even if it's wrong for me to think this way, I'm finding it harder and harder to force myself to stop.

* * * Ch. 7 End, Continued on Ch. 8 * * *


About this chapter: From wedding designs (I'm a graphic designer and my sister is getting married soon) to my wrists getting hurt, and everything in between, I was completely unable to advance the story.

When I finally got the time to work on this again, I was disappointed with the way I had written things. So what did I do? Did I simply just f-it and let you read something I wasn't happy with? I say, no! In the end, I ended up re-writing a lot…it changed the dynamic a great deal, I believe, in a very positive way. Thanks to this, there will be a lot of re-writing that I will need to do for the other chapters that I had already written (eight and nine), but I think everything will be for the best.

I don't want to waste your time so I try to give you something that is actually worth reading. I can't get myself to upload something that I am not happy with, so I may take longer than other authors when working on a story…And how long it can be! Although it's only been some months of the story being uploaded into this site, it's been about two years since I first began writing it. So, I hope that you will be patient and understanding if there are times when I am unable to post something.

Thanks for the support! Until next time (Not sure when that will be but hopefully sooner than later)!