Session 35

This was hardly the first time that Jet was forced to sort out how to get Spike down the living room stairs, his left arm slung over a shoulder, most of his body next to useless. Dressed in a pair of sweatpants and an old t-shirt, Spike's right arm hung useless in a sling, the rest of his body draped heavily off Jet. But he had to give the guy credit, he was trying to walk.

Huffing like an old windbag, it took Spike what seemed like forever for each step. His head hung and if he said anything at all it was hard to discern through clenched teeth.

Familiar indeed. Jet patiently waited each interim ignoring the barrage of half muttered cursing. Oooohhhh Spike was surly alright! Not surprising, in his pocket, Jet had his next dose of medications all ready to go. No doubt that Spike would be needing the pain meds after the transfer from the hospital. It was rather his fault he hadn't waited for the timing to cover that instead of like now, when the next dose was due.

It hadn't been a far cab ride, but there was no way he was going to cram Spike into one of the monocrafts. Granted, that meant a bit of a longer walk from the dock itself.

"Sonofa—" Spike hissed.

Pausing, Jet glanced to the side watching the wave of pain pinch his features. "Thought you said you were ready."

He glared through the top of his eyes. "I am." The next few seconds were a panting fest Ein would have been proud of. "Just need to get to the couch."

"Waitin' on your move pard."

His fingers dug into Jet's shoulder as he summoned the next step. He was walking, barely. At the minimal amount of muscle required Spike had forced it to happen yesterday only to be livid when he discovered he needed another overnight stay because he'd been too exhausted to stay awake. Jet just rolled his eyes. Of course he couldn't leave exhausted as he'd been. But there'd been no telling Spike that.

Halfway down the first set of steps to the platform, all forward momentum ceased. Jet leaned forward. "You need to sit down for a bit."

"No." He panted, hanging a bit more precariously. "I just need to … get down there … "

Resisting the urge to tap his foot, Jet remained there, waiting for Spike to stop trembling enough to move of his own accord. Down on the chair, Ein lifted his head and gave a squeaky yawn. No one else bore witness. Faye had taken Ed on a grocery run, a decision they both felt was wise knowing how likely Ed would be to excitedly bear hug Spike. As it was the poor guy was suffering from his own stupidity, he didn't need the uber affection to add to the discomfort.

Once he was settled in things would be ok. That became Jet's silent mantra.

Slowly, Spike managed the next stair. One step closer. At that rate this could take all day.

The weight on Jet's shoulder suddenly increased. He wasn't surprised. Bracing himself he let Spike hang there for a few breaths. No point in asking him. The damnable pride would win out every time. Unless he passed out, he'd refuse to let Jet carry him.

Averting his eyes, Jet idly counted the rotations of the fan overhead. It was arbitrary as Spike managed each stair down to the living room floor. Between gasped breaths he laughed. "I … made … it … "

His knees gave out completely, his body collapsing like a house of cards. As his eyes clamped shut Jet knew they'd reach the breaking point. Patting Spike's shoulder he knew it was time. "No one else will know." Carefully he shifted Spike into his arms, picking him up. Spike's efforts to resist were minimal, his head resting against Jet's shoulder, eyes closed as he continued to tremble. "You made it pretty far, pard." Spike had put up a damn good fight—but the truth was, it was time for him to rest.

Now the going was much quicker as he passed right by the couch and entered the hall to their quarters, Ein's claws clicked on the floor at his side. He had never expected Spike to make it all the way to his old room. He had expected an argument over why they were passing the couch. But Spike wasn't even watching. Once settled in his arms, he wasn't even that heavy. Not the lightest he'd been—no, that mark belonged to the condition he'd come out of the Pluto prison, Quidlivun Cavus. Tortured, severely malnourished, and ill he had been in worse physical shape then. But gripping Spike's shoulder now he realized it wasn't too far off. He had a long way to come back from.

In time. All in due time.

Passing through the hatch to Spike's room he carefully laid him out on the bunk. As he pulled off his shoes and reached down to grab the blanket he'd left at the foot of the bed—knowing that would be too much to fuss with, he found Spike's eyes cracked open, watching him. "You're ok, kid."

"Not … a … kid …" He hardly even looked around. To be honest Jet wasn't sure he knew he was in his own bunk. He just breathed forcefully as if he'd been on a chase or something.

"You're hurting, aren't you." He eyed Spike. "Be honest."

There wasn't a verbal response, but the wince said it all.

Grabbing the thermos he'd set in there ahead of time he pulled out the pill bottle and emptied the over half dozen various pills into his hand, Spike was on quite the cocktail. "Figured you would be. Here you go. Let's get on top of this and stay there."

With a trembling hand, Spike took the offered pills, not one argument, and popped them into his mouth swallowing them with a large mouthful of water from the thermos. Resting his head against the pillow, his right hand flexed a bit in the cast.

"Hey," Jet pointed to the sling, "you still want that?"

Slowly, he nodded, his eyes closing from sheer exhaustion. As per usual he'd overdone it.

That was all the answer he needed. Standing up, Jet leaned against the hatch's frame turning the light low. Spike was home again. If he'd noticed that his room had been cleared out, he hadn't indicated it by any means. If he noticed he was even in his room, he hadn't indicated it. In a way that seemed like a blessing, extra fussing burned up energy he needed for healing. But deep down it bothered Jet. He'd expected some kind of push back. A snide remark. A response. Something.

Instead he got his ol' partner sinking down into his bunk as swiftly as the lights going out. Ein padded up to the bunk, placed his paws on the edge and pulled his front half up so he could get eye-to-eye. Wasn't much of a point, Spike was out cold, his breathing already sunk down. That wasn't the meds, it was too soon for that, this was simply the toll he paid for being a stubborn lunkhead.

And so, it starts. Our long watch.

In place of the liquor storage, Jet had left a couple boxes of supplies they would need on hand. Gauze and antibiotic ointment for bandage changes.

He let a breath out and waved to Ein, "Come on, he'll be sleeping for a while. I'll leave the door open in case."

The answer was a click of the claws as Ein launched himself onto the bed and settled down on the blanket beside Spike with a huff. The look on the dog's eyes said it all. He wasn't leaving.

"Heh, ok. Keep an eye on him for me, then."

"Woof."

Shambling down the hall, he heaved a sigh, shoulders sagging. "Now the hard part begins."

"Edward! Don't just take one box, get back here!" Faye's irate shouting echoed off the hanger's walls.

"Hahahahaha!" Ed couldn't be bothered, she was excited as she danced through the open hatch, balancing a box of Cup of Noodles on her head. That seemed like a staple food on the ship. Granted there was quite a bit more foodstuffs in the Red Tail, but Ed bolted down the steps and leapt into an aerial somersault. She released the box and let it thump on the table mid turn before uncoiling and landing on the couch.

Wait. The couch? She bounced up and down, a finger in her mouth. "Where's Spike-person?"

Grunting, Faye stomped through the hatch burdened with a stack of boxes. "Probably in his quarters. Remember? You helped Jet clean that up for him."

Instantly she brightened, "Oh yeah!"

Dropping the boxes on the table she planted her hands on her hips. "And this is one of those reasons why. If Spike had actually been there you could have hurt him. Did you even think of that?"

"Eeeehheeeehehe!" Leaping off the couch, Ed's bare feet pounded down the hall. "Spiiiiiikkkkkkeeeee's back!"

The clack of Faye's heels followed her in hot pursuit. "Damn it! He needs things to be quiet! Get back here and help me unload the groceries! Ed!"

Oh, she heard her, but that didn't slow her down one bit. Spike was home, everyone was back. Their family was complete. Her joy could not be contained by any force in the system. She tore around the corner and came to a screeching halt in Spike's open doorway, about to unleash one of her patented shrieks when she sucked on a forefinger instead, cocking her head.

Snoring echoed in the room. Not one set, but two. Spike lay on his left side tucked under a blanket in the dimly lit room. On the blanket Ein snuggled against his chest, his nose by Spike's forehead. Every snore from Spike stirred his fur. Both were sound asleep. Up on the shelf where the books were neatly stacked, the light caught on the metallic feathers, Shuĭ perched there. Slowly his eyes opened and he turned his narrow head her way offering a soft peep.

Faye dashed up behind her about to berate her when she looked into the room. She whispered, "He's really back."

"Ein's guarding his dreams." Ed giggled into her hand. "He's a good boy."

"They both are." Faye lowered her head. "Come on, kid, Spike's probably worn out. How about we make him something special in the kitchen with the stuff we got."

She clapped her hands. "Ed gets to cook?"

"Mmmm hmmm."

"Aaaaheeeee! Yaya!" Off she dashed to the kitchen with visions of cupcakes dancing in her head.

Jet awoke with a start. He hadn't intended to fall asleep in the cockpit on the bridge. Weird, he must have been more worn out than he thought. Not ultimately shocking. He hadn't been sleeping well. The trips out with Faye had been a nice relief, but it wasn't a solution to the ultimate problem that still weighed heavy on his mind. Pulling out a cigarette he was about to light it.

Something smelled off. Something was … burning? Sitting up with a start he leapt out of the cockpit tearing down the stairs and making a beeline for the galley—the source of the smell. That was not cigarettes! His ship was burning!

"What the … what happened?" It looked like a cake had thrown up all over the galley. And not just that, all over Faye and Ed as well.

Flour, eggshells, copious amounts of chocolate syrup clung to absolutely everything—even the exposed ceiling pipes.

As Ed danced around flinging gobs of batter against the walls, Faye opened the oven and waved the smoke away. "Ed! How did this get turned up to 450?"

"Cook faster!"

"Oh God, this is … puhh, completely ruined."

Jet leaned against the doorway, scowling the moment Faye met his eyes.

"Oh hey." She tried to hide the charred remnant in the pan, which of course was impossible.

"What did you think you were doing?"

Ed bounced up to him and swung onto his back, batter covered hands smearing a mess on his jumpsuit. "Ed and Faye-Faye were making a Spike welcome back cake!"

He said nothing and just glared at the burnt offering.

Wilting a bit, Faye set the once-cake-now-charcoal-briquette on the stove. "It ummm … well, it's been a while since I baked from scratch." Taking off the oven mitt she held it up and blushed as she eyed the mess like a guilty dog.

Releasing a sigh he grabbed Ed and Faye by their arms. "Let's get this cleaned up. Then we can do this right."

Ed licked the batter from her finger. "We're gonna make a cake?"

"Instead of a mess." Jet eyed them. Well, their hearts had been in the right place. He opened up the oven door to a fresh cloud of smoke and his stomach bottomed out. "Who dumped a pan of batter in the oven?" That was no longer batter—but a series of charred piles smoldering in the oven. It looked like a glowing hell scape.

When he turned around, he discovered an empty kitchen. Jet buried his face in his hands. "Typical."

See You Space Cowboy