Session 36

The screen flickered behind her, casting intermittent light in her room as Faye sat on her bunk watching the polish dry on her nails. Or rather staring at it overlong … it had been dry for well over an hour. But she sat wreathed in the dim light, the soundtrack of the random show in the background almost like static.

Days had passed now. Days with the crew reunited. It wasn't at all how she thought it would be. The heavy concern remained inescapable. Her eyes wandered to the clock. It was almost time for her turn. She couldn't help but look at the wall in the direction of his room. Something wasn't right and it haunted her.

On the first day it made sense. The second was mildly excusable. She hugged herself tighter. The longer this went on the more it weighed down her thoughts. The silence was killing her.

Slowly she walked out of her room and down the hall to the snip of a branch. There was no doubt in her mind what she would find. This is where he'd been every time.

Completely absorbed in the task, Jet tended to his bonsai trees with an obsession verging on compulsion. A cigarette hung from his lips. He didn't even glance up as she darkened the door frame.

She cleared her throat. "Uh Jet … "

Tonelessly he replied, "It's almost time for his bandage change. Let me know if he needs a trip to the toilet, I'll help him get there. Don't want to embarrass the guy. Remember to give him every pill I loaded in the dose bottle."

Her fingers tightened on her elbow. "It's not that. I have the routine down. It's not like this is my first time tending to Spike … it's just that … have you noticed? " How to put it … "Since they released him from the hospital he's been … I mean … there he actually was joking around a bit, he was working his ass off to be able to get up and leave his bed." She bit her lip and gazed down the hall toward his room. "Here, he's not the same. He's not thriving. He's … he barely wakes up. Something is wrong."

Jet's grip on the cutters tightened as he held onto the branch, pulling it back severely. "Don't forget to give him every pill."

That reaction startled her. She took a step into the room. "Don't you find that odd?"

He stiffened, narrowing his eyes, but refused to answer. The tension enough to snap the man.

Inhaling the damp air of the plant incubation room, tears teased the corners of her eyes. "Jet, haven't you asked yourself why?"

"I don't have to." He cut the branch and threw it on the floor, his eyes deadlocked on the blades of the cutters.

"Maybe one of the doses of his meds is off. He should be up, he should be talking to us, he should be awake more than a half hour at a time!"

"He's fine. Drop it, Faye." Snip.

She shook her head. "He's never been like this. There has to be a reason he's so rundown."

"Maybe … " he muttered just above his breath, "someone is slipping him a sedative."

Instantly her breath locked in her chest. "A sedative? Jet! What the fu—"

"It's part of the cocktail they prescribed for him. I know what to watch for, when to start tapering it off."

"He can't even function." She flung her hands wide. "He'd be humiliated by this!"

Slamming his hands on the counter, Jet nearly knocked the the bonsai off as he rounded on her with a full-throated shout, "More humiliated than being locked in a psych ward's padded room confined to a straight jacket for the rest of his life?"

Forced to stumble backward at the image, she stuttered. "Bu—but what do you mean … Jet that doesn't mak—"

He swiped the air with a hand, anger burning in his eyes. "This is what is best for him right now!"

"We can't keep doing this to him. He needs to know."

"And have him fight us over this? No—don't you dare tell him!"

The revelation tightened Faye's throat. "You haven't told him?"

He growled. "I haven't, with good reason."

Watching Jet now she knew without a doubt this was why he'd been so tense. This silent burden carried since … "When … when did you learn this?"

"The day Damian first spoke with us. He sensed it moments after meeting Spike." Jet's raised voice cracked as he clawed at the air. "Thanks to Morpheus, Spike's a ticking time bomb. He's an absolute wreck. The medical team discussed everything at length and determined the only way through this to even give him a chance to stabilize was to let his body heal first."

"First?" That sounded ominous. "What do you mean first?"

Planting his hands on the shelf he shook his head, though his voice lowered the intensity didn't. "After his physical wounds heal we need to face the harder ones to reach."

She held her breath for a long moment at the look of defeat in Jet's posture.

He pulled out his cigarette and stubbed it out in an ashtray, not looking up. Silently he pointed to his head.

That was all the answer she needed. "Jet … it can't be that serious. He's been beaten to all hell before and come out just fine."

"Not like this." His head sunk lower. "At the moment he's far more fragile than he'd ever acknowledge, and that's the problem. Shit Faye, I've been drugging my best friend without his knowledge. Consider what it would take for me to pull that."

"And keep that to yourself. Oh God, Jet, why was this essential?"

"You know Spike's temper, his killer abilities. Imagine if he lost his shit and that incision wasn't all the way healed. He could bleed to death in minutes. I can't take that chance." He turned to her and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Please. Just keep up the act. I've been telling him that one of the side-effects of the meds makes him sleepy."

"That's an understatement." She bowed her head. "What if he gets hit by one of his nightmares? You know, the bad ones he refuses to tell us about."

"Won't happen." His grip tightened. "They accounted for that, the sedative has been calibrated to drag him down beyond dreams. As for why in the hospital that wasn't essential—primed in his IV they had an off switch, more or less. Something that if he did go off, they could drop him in a few heartbeats. Yes Faye, it's that serious. Spike's only hope at recovery is making sure he can't hurt himself in the process."

"I … I understand." She took a step back as his hands fell to his sides. "I don't like it … but I … understand." The phrase tough love came to mind.

Slumping back down on the bench he didn't look up as he muttered, "Don't ask me which of the pills is the sedative. I won't tell you. There's a reason I reload the pill bottle with his current meds as I have been."

The weight of it all rested on him, even still. Slowly Faye wandered down the hall and into Spike's room. Everything was there, all set and ready to go from Jet's last shift on this. She had to swallow the guilt. Somehow through all the shouting, Spike was still sleeping.

Gently she touched his arm above the cast and waited for him to stir before speaking softly, "Hey, sorry to wake you up, but it's time for a bandage change."

His eyes opened, dilated. Now that she knew the truth that made more sense. He still looked pretty out of it … the constant state he'd been in since returning to the ship.

"Feeling any better?" She laid out the supplies, giving him a chance to wake up a bit more, not that it would help much. He didn't respond, he just lay there listlessly not even watching her pull out a fresh bandage. She couldn't be certain his eyes focused enough to be able see anything in detail.

Forcing a smile, she pulled the blanket down and shifted him onto his back, guiding the casted arm out of the way. Tugging the shirt up exposed the bandaging. "Ok, let's make short work of this shall we."

As she unwrapped the binding he vaguely followed her motions, but it was so easy to lose him, leave him blinking slowly into the distance. At last the end of the wrap slipped away to reveal the large gauze pad up against the wound. Carefully she took the corner and worked it back, wary of the sutures.

Spike's abdomen jerked backward, and he issued a hissing cry as one of them tugged, stuck on the gauze.

"Sorry. I thought I was going slow enough." She teased it from the fibers.

"S—s'ok." That was the part that really bothered her. How slurred his speech was. Nothing came out clear. Sometimes he would just mutter unintelligibly. At the moment he just laid his head back, eyes barely watching. His cybernetic one … it was dilated too.

Damn it Jet, they're seriously burying him. Taking a sterilizing cloth, she braced herself as she was forced to take in the incision. The large inverted V a bit below his ribs held together by more sutures than she cared to count. That's why this part was so critical. Jet's warning plagued her, if this bled there'd be no time to stop it. And Spike wasn't know for being cautious when wounded.

Luckily the flesh remained healthy. Not a sign of any discharge or serious discoloring. The excess warmth was merely from an increase in healing blood flow. A lot of the bruising she had witnessed early on in the hospital had faded by now. Other than how deeply his gut sunk in each breath due to wasted muscles, this was looking better. But that mark had a low bar starting point in her memory.

"You know, this is looking pretty good. It'll be healed in no time." She lied through her teeth as she cleansed it. The fact was, that scar was hideous. And it wasn't going away any time soon. Even healed that was going to be a serious blemish. How many scars had he erased over time? Thinking back to the horrific events in Somnus it struck her just how violent of a life he had led. With how many scars he had removed from just bounty runs … how riddled would his skin be now if he hadn't?

Spike flinched a bit, but other than the occasional accidental snag on her part he didn't shift much. Just lay there slack against his pillow.

"Almost done." She forced the corners of her lips up in a smile as she carefully redressed the wound, slow passes, wrapping around his gut as she had temporarily wedged him up a bit. Settling him back down she reassured him, "I'll be right back. Just going to throw this out and get your food."

As she looked up she spied Ed's hand reaching around the door with a Cup of Noodles in her hand. The tab already pulled and steam escaping the popped top. With a whisper she took the cup, "Trade you, Ed." She handed over the bandages which promptly vanished to the patter of bare feet.

Kneeling back down, she painstakingly fed him. As had been the case since coming home, Spike showed only minimal interest in each mouthful. If she paused too long he nearly nodded off. A quick coaxing and she'd have him back again. But it was hard won to get the cup empty.

After that was done she held up his sling and gave him a questioning look.

Spike stared at it for a few moments before murmuring, "No thanks." It wasn't clear at all, and almost sounded like one word.

"Are you sure you don't have to go?"

Awkwardly he nodded. "I'm fine." He winced, his good hand shifting toward his gut.

That was a clear sign. Faye picked up the pill bottle loaded with his next dose. The pills rattled as she emptied it into her hand. One of them … she stared, one of them was the culprit. But the fear in Jet's eyes plagued her. For weeks he had kept that horrible secret knowing that once Spike came back this was his temporary fate. The guilt now weighed on her too.

Spike's dilated eyes searched the room, struggling to find her. A silent plea in them. No—he needed this.

She held out the pills and put them into Spike's hand. Holding the thermos as he washed them down. The stubbornly independent man that was once able to to do so much, now unable to even feed himself. Running her hand through his hair she tried to sooth him, he was trembling. "Give it a bit, the pain meds will kick back in. I'm so sorry … " it caught in her throat for a moment, " … some of them make you drowsy, don't they."

His right hand flexed in the cast. She followed his gaze. Up on the shelf the edge of poker chip peeked over. By the time she looked back down, Spike's eyes had closed, his breathing already deepening.

Only then did she allow a single tear to escape her eye. I'm sorry, Spike. This isn't right. But you have to forgive us. We're just looking out for you. This is gonna be a longer road than any of us imagined … but we're gonna get you back. All of you.

Fuck, what am I doing? I'm ruining it. Jet slammed the cutters down and removed his gloves, pushing aside the little tree. He set his head in his hands and tried not to listen.

These days the ship was quiet—too quiet. Even Ed seemed to catch the clue and had been keeping to herself. Somewhere deep in the ship the slow drip of a leak echoed, joining the wash of the waves against the ship's hull.

It was the voices that haunted him, that squeezed his eyes shut. Spike's quarters weren't too far away and Faye's words reached his ears even as he tried not to listen.

Yes, this betrayal was horribly wrong, deep in his gut he knew it wouldn't be long before he'd have to answer for it. That made no difference. He'd never found a way to phrase it. So, he sought refuge here, in the leaves, in the patterns, in the voiceless bonsai. In the only place he felt he might have some fleeting sense of control—and even here the discord reached him.

Sound carried through the air vent. Spike's snoring, any muttering he might do in his sleep, which at this point wasn't much he'd only heard the odd complaint when Spike had shifted between bandage changes. And that had been rare. Now he listened to Faye … heard the forced smile in her voice as she joined in the deception. She knowingly lied to him.

It's the right thing. It's the only way to give him a chance. Not even he can face it all at once. This wasn't my decision, a whole team talked about this, about what could happen … about …

His hand brushed his pocket, the heavy weigth still there, waiting. He bowed his head even further. If he didn't get a good night sleep soon he'd be the one going crazy. But it hadn't come. Night after he lay in his bed counting the interval of each of Spike's breaths to mark if they were even, if they were shallower.

He beat a fist against the table. Why do I have to do this? Why Morpheus? Why did you do this to us? What did you hope to gain? Why couldn't you have let us go?

Instead, down the hall Spike was like a train wreck dangling over the edge, threatening to fall. There had to be a way to haul it back from the edge. There just had to be some way to prevent him from self-destructing.

The sound of footsteps, heels against the floor. The tap of the pill bottle on the table beside his hand. "It's done." Faye's voice lacked enthusiasm. "Eight hours til your turn."

He sighed, unable to lift his head. "Thank you."

She lingered at the door. "You better be ready for the backlash when he finds out. It's just going to add to the shit storm that's coming when he learns about everything else."

"I know."

"So, how are you going to handle."

He didn't have an answer … and the bonsai weren't talking.

See You Space Cowboy