Session 11

Jet stared at the rows of bonsai trees. The sheers hung in his hand uselessly. An hour had passed without a move. The distraction proved too great for him as his mind swirled over what had transpired. Earlier, sitting at the table the illusion of normalcy descended. Ed's cheerful banter. Faye's underhanded efforts to con the game. Even Spike's easy laughter … that sound had been the moment it set in. His old partner truly survived the trials of the past nearly year-and-a-half. The whole team was together again.

He spied the clock and sighed. Time to go find where Spike had wandered off to. Taking the burn salve with him, he padded through the logical parts of the ship. At last passing through the living room. Faye sat on the couch painting her toe nails a garish red. The blanket and pillow were missing.

"Have you seen Spike?" He scratched the back of his neck.

Distractedly, she replied, "Try his room."

Jet threw a glance in that general direction. "His room? But he basically used that as a storage closet."

She dipped the brush in the bottle and drew it back out again without looking up.

Clear that he wouldn't get a reply, Jet turned and headed for the crew quarters. The door for Spike's was ajar. A thin ray of light shot through the gap casting a stark outline across his shoulder. Opening the door all the way, Jet's shadow intruded into the room. He stared at his partner lying on his right side under the blanket, now returned to the bed where it had originally come from. The room itself had largely collected dust in Spike's absence. A few items remained of his cache of weaponry, but not much. Beyond a few books, Spike never accumulated many possessions.

Jet's focus returned to the figure on the bed … no wait, he shifted in the hall to let the light strike better. A small tan body nestled up against Spike's chest. Ein flicked an ear and opened his eyes.

Keeping his voice low, Jet waved his hand in the air. "Ein, get off the bed! Right now! You know Spike doesn't like you."

Stubbornly, Ein laid his ears back and remained, burrowing deeper into the bunk.

"Ein!" Jet commanded to no avail.

He was about to enter when Spike shifted under the blanket. Beneath the lids his eyes darted around. Hands pumped as his arms trembled. He wordlessly mumbled, clearly assaulted by some nightmare.

The corgi worked his head under Spike's left arm. He nuzzled tighter against Spike's neck, turning his nose so every breath puffed against his skin. To Jet's shock, Spike curled around the little dog, settling back into stillness, breathing evenly once more.

"Alright," he mouthed, "you can stay." Closing the door partway, Jet shook his head. "Never would have imagined that. Hope he's not too pissed off when he wakes up."

Burrowed under the covers, Spike stirred and yawned just on the edge of waking. His left side prickled, an annoying assurance that the skin was finally healing. Drowsily he scratched the itch through the bandages, shifting in his bed for a better angle.

Wheeeeeeezzzz—zzzziiiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

"Gaaah—Owwww!" Reflexively, the half-awake Spike jerked at the unexpected high-pitched squeal, the back of his head smacked the wall. Rubbing the already growing goose egg, he forced one eye open to seek vengeance on his assailant.

He blinked at the object. "Huh?" A bone lay on the covers. He picked it up and bent the rubber toy in half. Whhheeezz—zzzzzziiiieeeeeeeeee. Along the surface crisscrossing scrape marks betrayed the owner.

Spike took a deep breath and bellowed, "Ein!"

The clatter of claws answered. A moment later the corgi smiled at him from the doorway, his butt wiggled in a joyous dance that only served to further Spike's ire.

He peered over the bone at the countless short golden hairs scattered all over his blanket. His eyes shifted up to Ein. Through clenched teeth, Spike growled, "You better not have fleas again, you mongrel."

Ein woofed and half jumped, his front legs leaving the floor briefly.

With a grunt, Spike heaved the toy out the door into a squeaking flight. It hit the wall outside his room and rebounded noisily with the exuberant dog giving chase. He sat up on the edge of the bed and dropped his head into his hands mumbling to himself.

Whhheeeeeezzz—

Peering through his fingers, Spike stared straight at Ein standing with his paws between his bare feet. Ein let the pressure off the toy and it finished the grating whistle.

"Do that again and I'll throw it out the airlock."

Buford didn't even blink. The moment the man on the bar stool spat out the coarse insult, he gripped the beer bottle and smashed it into his grinning mouth, knocking teeth out. "Don't you ever insult my wife!"

That collision launched the bar into a chain reaction of flying fists and glass. Buford leapt into fray with a war cry from his days spent on Titan. His meaty fists plowed through everything in his path until at last the bar owner plugged the muzzle of a rifle into his grill. "Out! Now! I never want to see you here again!"

"Tsh!" Buford pushed the barrel away and stormed out the door with his hands in his pockets.

Not even a block away, a black haired woman flicked him a sympathetic smile over her shoulder. "Hey, soldier boy. You still got some fight in you?"

"Leave me alone." He snarled, trying to pass by.

She came up beside him, her sweet perfume drifting on the breeze. "You look like you could take on a whole ring of fighters. Anger just surges from you. A real man of action."

"I'm married, toots. So don't get any ideas."

Her hand brushed his forearm. "I'm not talking about anything involving horizontal dancing, Bowser." Her lashes fluttered. "I'm talking about releasing that shackled beast within you. Come with me, I have some friends who can exorcise that demon."

His fist pounded into a hand. Red light flared in his eyes as she gestured toward a two person monoship. A funny little bird spread its wings wide on the side of the craft. Buford followed her gesture.

See you, Space Cowboy