Session 11

~SPIKE~

Back at the hotel I sat on the couch, my feet drawn up, soles touching in front of me as I gripped my bare toes. Out of sight Jet bustled about in the kitchen, sending the scent of something savory into the air. I had to banish this before he came around the corner. Somehow I had managed to keep the tears from flowing simply through a stone face and keeping my mouth shut. By some stroke of luck he had engaged in small talk, not seeming to take notice that I trudged along more interested in watching my shoelaces flop with each step. I swore they would never stay tied no matter what I did.

Taking a deep breath I tried to cram it all back into the farthest corner of my mind and slam the door on it. Why had I taken him there? And not just to the damn building—but up into it!

I was such an idiot!

He had asked yet again, and I didn't have the words, I couldn't answer him any other way.

Six years I had avoided that street as much as possible. When I couldn't, I had kept my eyes on the other side of the street. Instinctively I knew it was bad news. Not that it hurt to look at it, somehow I just knew to avoid it at all costs …

When I finally laid eyes on it—I didn't feel … anything.

Completely numb. What little shreds of memory remained were not enough to grasp onto.

I couldn't recall their faces.

I hadn't known their names, though they must have had them.

The only thing I recalled was that I had lived … and they had died here. In the great void that swallowed me whole in an ash strewn wake. That morning when I had darted off from home like the disobedient little shit that I was, I had known them. The moment I returned to stare up at that burnt out rubble … they faded away. Something I could no longer have. It was easier to just walk away and leave it all behind.

No! Don't cry. What good would the tears even do? They weren't coming back. Not after all this time.

If I was so numb why the tears building? Why did my chest hurt?

I gulped in air, trying to stop it. It seemed ridiculous, he'd already seen me cry. It's not like he was similar to Joe, smacking me so hard I saw stars in broad daylight and shouting for me to grow the fuck up or stop being such a burden. That dick.

There it was. That ember lit and banished the chilling numbness. A feeling. Something to cling to.

Taking a deep breath I let it out slowly. My grip finally relaxed.

The clink of silverware turned my head. Jet walked around the corner with a couple plates of something smothered beneath a red sauce. I took mine from him as he sat down and flicked the remote on the screen, clicking through looking for something to watch. That device was a marvel. Sure did make the time go by faster. Wished Joe'd had one at the hall.

"Sorry lunch is so late. Didn't expect that errand to take so long."

Not one word about it. I heaved a hidden sigh and dug into the sauce with the fork. Pulling it up something pale and long hung down … no, several somethings. Longer and longer. Was there no end to this? I was running out of arm!

Beside me, Jet chuckled. "It's spaghetti. A long noodle. You're supposed to twist it onto the fork, like this."

I watched as he dipped it in and separated a few, spinning the strands into a thick sauce-laden bundle around the fork. "Huh." Well, that looked easy.

But it wasn't. The slippery things slid right off the fork time and again. I grumbled, wondering what the deal was with this. Finally trapping a wad I spun it onto the fork quickly, ready for my first bite!

SPUT!

The whole thing flopped back onto the plate in a tangled mess, sauce everywhere. I dropped the fork with a grunt.

Jet almost choked on his mouthful, covering it with his hands.

As my stomach growled, I glared daggers at him. "You did this on purpose! Made something that's impossible to eat."

He swallowed before speaking. "I did no such thing. I honestly didn't know you hadn't had this before. You're trying to grab too many noodles and you're whipping them. Target a smaller amount and just go slow. You'll get it. Try again."

Like I was some infant. Peh! "Food that takes dexterity to eat! It's just stupid." I griped even as the slower motions caught the noodles and they started winding around, picking the sauce up with them. Carefully I lifted the leveled out fork from the plate and they stayed on as I inched it closer. "Better be worth it."

Ramming the wad into my mouth I chomped down. My eyes rolled back at the flavor. Why was something so damn delicious so bloody difficult to eat! Instantly I spun my fork trying to wind more of the frustratingly evasive noodles onto it.

Jet smiled as he watched, amusement in his eyes.

I was too hungry to bother berating him. I would give him a tongue lashing when I wasn't eating this … this … what did he call it? Spaghetti.

"Mmmmm!"

On the screen a bunch of men on horses chased one another, guns a-blazing. I idly watched as the shots weedled them off one by one, freeing the horses of their human cargo. The biggest animal here were a few of the stray dogs—the ones I scrambled to avoid like the plague! I had never seen a horse, but I heard about them. The idea of something so large it could carry people amazed me.

Soon enough my fork scraped the plate. I stared down at the stained surface now empty of food. My shoulders fell. Usually there were seconds. I held up the plate.

With the corners of his mouth turned up, he gave a short laugh and ruffled my hair. "Sorry kiddo, that's all I made. You'll have to wait for dinner. Bell peppers and beef. But for now we have some chores. Come on, time to do the dishes."

"Huh?"

He stood up leaving me behind, plate still in hand. After a minute passed I got up and padded into the little kitchen. He'd filled the sink with soapy water. Taking the plate from me he tossed a towel into my hands. "I'll wash, you dry."

There was no discussion. No agreement. As I stood there staring at the towel a clean plate was thrust into my hand. Oh … so this was how it worked. Less than amused, I sighed and started to dry it off.

~JET~

At least there was a halfway decent place to get food in this slum. We'd walked down to the convenience store just before dusk. Spike followed me like a living shadow. I wished there were some place to get him some decent clothing, something that fit him … something that hadn't come off of a dead body. That still gave me the willies, and the fact that hardly seemed to bother him. But I hadn't seen anything with potential. Most of the places around here, if they were still even in business, were dive bars and gambling joints, game halls of the like I had discovered Spike in. Maybe there were other supplies in a different district?

That seemed like a silly thought as I grabbed a couple packs of meat from the cold case, this crater was too small to even have districts.

Glancing to the side I spied Spike stiffening, sliding his eyes under that mop of tangled hair. That was a rather sour expression on his face. I tracked his line of sight to find the owner of the store standing at the end of aisle, leaning on a baseball bat, a warning glare fixed on Spike. The boy had his hands in his pockets, just as I had told him to do before we entered. Begrudgingly he had agreed. What was I supposed to do, leave him outside like a dog?

I had to break the tension. Turning to the guy I rubbed my chin. "Hey, you got any bell peppers?"

He blinked, jerking upright as I snagged his attention. "Uhhh, yeah. They're over here."

As he led the way I shot Spike a warning glare.

His eyes widened in disbelief before he looked off to the side, pure insult in his expression. I figured he must've caught my drift. Still, I made certain I could see him at all times, just to be safe.

Picking out a bag of the peppers that were at least halfway fresh, I had everything I needed to replenish my stock. We'd be eating well now. In an odd little tension train we proceeded to the register. It did not escape me how the man behind the counter scowled at Spike the entire time, failing to even watch whether the items scanned or not. Half of them didn't.

I sighed as Spike offered him an equally hostile glare. Did this kid have a past with everyone in this crater?

Wordlessly, the owner ran my woolong card and handed it back to me. The moment he finished, he tore the receipt from the register, shoved it into one of the bags and thrust a finger toward the door. "Now, get out and take the trash out with you."

Spike's eyes narrowed at him, he opened his mouth to speak.

Nope! Not gonna happen! I shoved a bag into his hands and pushed him toward the door. "Thank you!"

Outside, Spike scowled up at me. "Why did you thank that bastard?"

"Never mind." I took the bag from Spike, carrying all of them myself. "I'm more interested in why he was watching you like a hungry seagull."

He half wrinkled his nose, some of the heat simmering away. "What the heck is a seagull?"

"A bird that lives on the seas of Ganymede." It took a whole block for me to realize why he was still staring rudely at me. Oh yeah, there were no bodies of water in Deseado period. "Heh, a sea is a vast body of water filling the whole horizon."

He blinked, staring at me and I swear I could see him trying to envision it. At length he just shook his head. "Whatever."

"You still haven't answered my question."

Spike stole a glance my way, the low brow returned. "I dunno. I'm not a mind-reader or nothin'."

I cleared my throat. "He watched you like Petunia does whenever you enter his shop. Is there a reason everyone treats you like a wandering disaster?"

His smooth steps fell out of rhythm. Now he refused to look up at me, but I spied the heat on his cheeks. "I don't know."

But he did, it was written on his face. "Spike?"

"I told you!" He shouted, stomping a foot. "I don't fuckin' know what his problem is! His or anyone else's!"

"You stole from him, didn't you."

He forcefully looked at the ground, stiff as a board.

A man pushed past us, shoving Spike slightly off balance. He caught it easily enough, but those eyes blazed with mischief.

Five steps later the man held up his wrist and blinked. "My watch! Where's my watch?" Alarmed, he turned and stared at Spike.

It couldn't be. He wouldn't … but there it was, the quick glint of gold entering his pocket. I grabbed his wrist, even as he protested rather loudly. Hauling him up by one arm. In the fist—the pilfered gold watch. "Drop it!"

Spike howled and kicked. "Let me go!"

"What are you thinking? Stealing again! When are you going to learn! I told you, you don't have to be a thief anymore." Without even thinking I dropped the bags and brought my hand in a hard slap across Spike's cheek.

H yelped as his fingers released the watch. It clattered to the ground and the man picked it up. Thrusting it into his pocket he shook a fist at Spike. "You should teach that cur some manners!"

I glared into Spike's heated glare, a red blotch blooming where I had struck him. My betrayal burned in his eyes. Ohhhh he was angry now. Disappointment dripped from my words, "I have been trying, but he seems unwilling to learn."

"I've learned." Spike snapped, balling up a fist. "I've learned plenty!" He threw a hard punch at my face, twisting in my loosening grip. Landing on his feet, within seconds he vaulted off the man's shoulders up onto the rooftop.

"Spike!" I scrambled, snatching up the bags as I attempted to follow along the ground level. "Come back!"

By the time I reached the end of the block all I caught in the fading daylight was the flash of the sole of one sneaker as it vanished over the edge of another rooftop. He'd jumped from roof to roof. That kid was agile!

I had no hope of catching him in these twisted alleys below.

In a heartbeat I'd lost him to the wretched streets.

What had I done?