Session 47

Will this ever get any easier? Jet fought to look casual as he and Faye passed through the asylum with their escort into the commons area where Spike had been staying for the past two weeks. Optimism felt like Jet grasped at straws. Every day one of them stopped by. Every day Spike seemed to stew in near silence. He spoke, but not at any length. His gaze tended to wander—though not commanded by invisible entities like earlier. He just lacked … focus. And that had not been the Spike of before.

Shiftless, unless he felt something was worth his attention—damn right! But not this strange combination of frozen restlessness. It reminded Jet oddly of a very young child who wanted to ask for something but didn't know how. An extremely out of place behavior on a grown man, but especially one like Spike. That bothered Jet the most. He wanted to grab Spike by the collar and shake him until all the shit exploded out of him and be done with it.

No—Damian had warned him not to force the issue. Not to force anything. That this would require patience. As the days ticked on by Jet had begun to worry that they had lost him for good. That they'd be forced to leave him locked up here … goosebumps rose on his skin at that thought. Jet's feet hesitated as they entered, now he regretted Faye talking him into coming together today. What had she said? Something about a good feeling about today? He didn't know he could face another visit of this melancholic partner he used to know … or rather thought he knew. He ran a hand over his head, exhaling a long breath.

Through the bustle of the place a sound commanded his attention.

Tink!

He knew that sound … and Faye's hand on his arm relayed she had too.

Tink!

Their eyes searched the movement in the commons room to find the source, but it wasn't from here. Through the door of Spike's room … the glimmer of the light off the red plastic and gold foil … the chip tumbling up into the air and back down into a waiting hand. Spike sat on the window ledge, leaning back in a relaxed manner. One leg hung down, the other cocked, his elbow resting there. In the afternoon sunshine, his eyes gazed out at the bay—but this time something had changed. They weren't lost. There was a glint in them, an ember that Jet hadn't realized had been gone until it had returned.

Damian looked up from chatting with a nurse in the commons and fixed Jet with a confident grin. The swift wink wasn't missed.

Leaning in close Faye whispered, "Spike wasn't like that yesterday … I mean it, he was a perfect sopping wet blanket. That's why I wanted us to both come. I thought he needed something … extra?"

"Well … I … uhh … " Jet tried, but kept tripping over his tongue.

Tink!

Closer now, they followed the gesture of their escort who left them to their visit. Just a few more feet, all they needed to cross the room. Slowly they entered the sunbeam spilling on the floor. The poker chip never stopped flipping, but Spike shifted his half-lidded eyes their way. "Hey … two of you today?"

"Yeah," Faye leaned against the barred window's frame, "we left Ed and Ein on the duty of oiling the Six Pack."

He lifted an eyebrow. Tink! "Unsupervised? That was probably not the wisest move."

"The weather's good," Jet shrugged, "they're out on the flight deck which can be hosed off."

"Heh, bet some of the little pests end up at the bottom of the bay. Better get the fishing nets ready."

An awkward silence stretched onward, Faye and Jet shifted their glances but at length neither seemed to know what to say. Days ago Jet had run out of small talk. But that was all they could offer Spike, soooo … "Uhhh … so how's—"

Spike cut him off. "You guys have been hauling ass for me, don't think for a moment I don't know that. But the truth is Damian told me the only way to finish this bullshit." He flicked the chip, his eyes not watching it. "I'm ashamed of how long it's taken me to realize what a bonehead I've been."

Jet's jaw hung slack for a moment before he found his voice. "Spike … what Morpheus did—"

He shook his head. "That's an excuse." Tugging the shirt up he exposed the surgical scar. "He didn't do this. I did. He wasn't responsible for my ignorant-ass self in the past. He didn't throw me into the thick of things for years on end in some vain blind search to feel something again. No." Spike held a hand up. "Now, the asshole did cook me in a fucking crucible of the bitter truth and push me into a neurological breakdown that I could have done without. I'll give that credit where it's due."

This was the most that he'd spoken since. Clear, focused. No muttering or rambling. Spike's tone remained relaxed as if they were chatting about a bounty over beers at the bar … Jet winched, minus the beers.

Spike took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I didn't know where to even begin. In such a short messed up life I'd managed to screw up more than I ever imagined."

Reaching forward, Faye's hand stopped the flipping of the poker chip. "Your parents were taken from you when you were a kid, you didn't have any guidance."

He wrinkled his nose and fixed her with a glare. "And when I was old enough to think for myself what did I do? That excuse only worked when I was a snot-nosed brat. I had a sharp mind, and was a quick learner. I should have fucking known better. The truth sucks, but as big of a bad ass as I convinced myself I was, I was nothing but a lunkhead." Working the chip between his fingers he held it up. "When someone offers advice we have a choice. To ignore it or to take it." His expression soured, the knuckles standing out. "Years ago, when I was an arrogant young thug someone told me the secret to making a living off of killing others. I listened and took it all in, never questioning it. The answer was easy, and the it felt so good."

There flashed a smile that disturbed Jet for a moment. The darker side of Spike he preferred not to think about.

"The bottle numbs it all. Lets a man do what he must and forget the pain in the other man's eyes. Let's you follow the command to pull the trigger on a man who ran beside you as a trusted comrade without a shred of guilt."

Jet blinked. Was that shame as Spike cast his eyes downward?

For a long moment Spike stared at the poker chip balanced on the top of his thumbnail, it quivered there. "I lived a life without regrets, because that was the only way to go on. Each day I bore the knowledge that it could be the last, that it would be my turn to face the final bullet, I was fine with that. Mao, the man I served without question, took my parents from me and taught me how to kill. Vicious taught me to embrace the thrill and to chase the bottle … which cost me more than I knew I had." His other hand brushed his shirt. "But I'd had a choice back then and even then—I didn't really make it."

Tink! The chip flipped into the air, his eyes refused to follow it as it tumbled. In a blind grab he snatched it and held it up between his fingers. He deadlocked a stare into Jet's eyes. "This damn thing made it all. Held all the power. Sure, it removed the argument. It stood between Vicious and I butting heads."

At every mention of Vicious's name Faye's hand twitched on the grip of her own arm. The gesture too obvious to escape Jet's notice. But as Spike continued, Jet dared not interrupt him. This needed to happen.

"We worked as a team because of this … " his hand closed tight around it, the knuckles flaring out as he shook his head. "And because I let this mindless piece of plastic rule our power I fell prey to him instead of stepping up. Shit … maybe if I had—" he ran a hand through his hair, "—no. Nope. The what if's aren't worth it. That's a dose of Morpheu's poison to entertain those. I can't change any of it now. It doesn't matter what I know now. Back then I chose irresponsibility. So … let it be what it was. Let me stand in the mire I let grow and swallow me."

Once more he worked the chip onto his finger and met both of their eyes. "Let me tell you about the days of the Red Dragon, when Vicious and I seemed inseparable … "

Hours had passed, the sun had sunk below the horizon to Spike's past pouring out like a bottomless whiskey bottle. In the corner of Jet's eyes he noticed Damian lingering just outside the doorway. Too caught up in his retelling, and more focused on Faye, Spike didn't seem to note as Jet gradually made his way to the door and out into the hall.

Damian elbowed Jet, keeping his voice low, "See? I told you. In his time it would happen. This is what we need. This was the hardest step. The surgery reconnected things, but he's the one who has to untangle and face his trauma. And this guy … wow. Most of the guys in here don't have a conscience."

Raising an eyebrow, Jet glanced into the room at the engrossed pair. "It's a change from the last weeks. Who knew it was his conscience crippling him behind that facade all these years. Hell, I've never seen him opening up more than a few details at a time. This is huge."

Damian shrugged a shoulder. "Well, here's the good news. Now that I'm hearing this, I think my place has outlived its use for him. Give it a few days, make sure he's still on the right track. Then, I think he would do better back on the Bebop with all of you."

That nearly sent Jet to the hospital with a heart attack. "Are you serious?"

He nodded, arms crossed over his chest. "Sure am. Hey Jet, you can smile. This is legitimately good news."

That simple gesture seemed so hard, like Jet had forgotten how to. He couldn't believe it … in a few days … Spike could be coming home.

"Horray! Spike-person is home!" Ed's attempt at an acrobatic fall into him was aborted by Jet grabbing her shirt. Instead she hung by it like a metronome, grinning and waving. "Heeee heeee!"

Framed by the doorway, Spike was the last to enter, grateful that Ed hadn't tackled him. His body wasn't quite ready for anything that rambunctious and Jet had already launched into a lecture. Spike's eyes drifted over the round door in slow contemplation. Home. Nothing weird lingering on the edges … I'm actually … home.

On the inside of the threshold Faye lingered gripping the bag of his medications, a reminder that things weren't over. Meds as well as video sessions with Damian would be a routine for time to come. As soon as he could, he was determined to start physical training again. After all, his clothing hung off his frame. But right now it was all one step at a time.

As he lifted his foot to step over the threshold he paused only to find Ein standing there, smile-panting up at him. "Hey furball." At the greeting, Ein bounced in a circle before bounding down the stairs. Chaos ensued as Ed, newly released from Jet's grip, took off at a mad dash, laughing and singing snippets of various songs in a nonsense laden jumble.

"Spike, you ok?"

Until Faye spoke he hadn't realized he'd been staring off. "I uhh … yeah. Sorry. It's just … I've been inside a lot. Could really use a smoke." Those things aren't mutually exclusive. What am I saying? Damn it, just be normal!

Faye narrowed her eyes and handed the bag over to Jet. "You know, that is true. You have been inside long enough to drive someone … errrr well … heh." She took his arm. "How about we get some fresh air and … " she held up a pack and a lighter.

No rush to go back in. They sat on the edge of the flight deck. The moment Faye lit his cigarette Spike inhaled and relaxed, letting his meager weight rest on his hands as he leaned back. He hadn't smoked in … he couldn't recall how long. Tendrils of smoke rose up into the air. In a comfortable silence for more than one cigarette they watched the city life of Alba City go by. He'd seen it through the window … but here there was sound—the roar of the engines as the ships rose into the atmo. Scent—the brackish odor of the seawater as the wind whipped it into a fine spray. Touch—as the wind caressed his bare arms and face. All this was real. And he savored every sensation, maybe for the first time in his life. No—there was no maybe about, that was the truth. He had never really paid attention before.

Across the bay a green heron stalked along the shore, neck tucked in tight. At length it stretched to its full height before spreading its wings and launching into flight. Like an arrow it pierced the water, vanishing from view in a circle of waves. The surface settled, erasing the evidence. When it seemed that it had drowned, the water domed a second before the fish laden beak punched through. The bird's wings clawed up into the sky sending a sparkling cascade.

Both Spike and Faye watched as it dwindled to a tiny dot.

Shifting her eyes toward him, Faye's jaw loosened. "Swimming Bird … that's what that old Laughing Bull called you, right?"

He had no idea why that occurred to her now, but his own mind had grasped the same thread … how oddly perfect that nickname had been. A creature born to fly but not limited to one world—air and … water. Flowing gracefully, transcending with ease between the planes. With his hand stretched out as if trying to grab the bird, Spike muttered, "I've been drowning so long … I've forgotten how to fly."

"You're a plane crash." She flicked the spent butt of her cigarette out into the water. "In truth … we both are. But we'll pick up the pieces, put our lives back together again. You and me—we'll be soaring once more. This is just going to take time."

She sounded so certain, so fearless … he wanted to believe her. So he did, he willed himself to believe that she saw something he didn't right now. Damn he missed his confidence. He nodded, casting his own cigarette butt out into the waves smacking the hull of the ship. "We're stuck on Mars for now, right? Medical bills."

Her flinch told the whole story. "The cost … it doesn't matter … you're … " she turned away from him, tucking her chin, " … you're priceless."

"That's gonna take a whole lot of bounties to clear that up."

"You seriously think you're up to that?"

"No." His head hung a bit staring down at their fractured reflections. "Sorry, but it's gonna be a while until I can get my shit together. I guess … right now … I just want to settle down for a nap."

She drew her hand back and slugged his shoulder. "Lunkhead." To most onlookers it would seem like a full blow, but he knew she'd pulled her punch. After a moment she rested her hand on his shoulder. "I'm serious Spike, we're glad to have you back."

He turned and wrapped his arms around her, bringing her in for a tight hug. "I couldn't have done it without you guys. Thanks for not giving up on me."

"I did for selfish reasons, I mean, if you weren't here who would I piss off?" Her voice was muffled in the folds of his shirt.

"Jet."

"Well, yeah, but he's too easy to get a rise out of. I have to work to get one out of you. Speaking of him, come on, we should get back inside. Jet's probably got dinner ready by now. Don't want it to get cold."

Passing back into the Bebop was easier this time, Spike's feet carried him without hesitation toward the couch. The moment he went to flop down Ed appeared out of nowhere and grabbed his wrist, arresting his intention.

"Now it's Ed's turn!" Before anyone could stop her, she tugged Spike toward the stairs to the bridge.

He didn't resist, her bubbling excitement overrode his fatigue from the event of coming home. Like a dog on a leash, Ed yanked him all the way up. Beside the cockpit Ein stood with a small box in his mouth, his stumpy butt wagging with unbridled excitement. His attempt to bark muffled by the beat-up object.

Ed pulled Spike down onto his knees, a bit rougher than he liked, but it was Ed so he tolerated it. "Take! Take! Open open!"

It seemed odd, taking a box from the mouth of a dog, even a weird dog like Ein. But who was he to argue, especially now. "What is this?" he asked as he took it watching the string of slobber stretch.

"Open and see!" Ed folded her hands, eyes wide as she invaded his personal space.

The sooner he did, the sooner he would have his own air space again. He tugged the tape off of the edges and opened the slightly dog chewed box. The moment the light hit the contents inside—nothing else mattered. He nearly dropped the box as his hands snatched the piece of paper inside. He stared in disbelief.

There, in his trembling hands, he held an actual printed photo. A tall lanky bespectacled man in a lab coat stared out of the frozen time. He stood beside a confident woman also in a lab coat, gripping a journal to her chest. On the man's narrow shoulders rode a boy, probably four years old. Bright brown eyes, perpetually messy dark green hair, a band-aid on his bare knee and an ear to ear grin on his face. Behind them all sparkled the vibrant lights of the carnival.

The vision in Spike's left eye began to blur. Wiping the moisture away did nothing. "Where … " for a moment he choked on the words, "where did you find this?"

Ed ruffled Ein's ears jingling his tag. "We found it in Spike's parents files after we used the sleepy song to unlock them. There are the Spike-parents. Ed figured you'd want to see them in some place other than your dreams. But better yet … " She grabbed the photo from his hands.

He scrambled to get it back, but due to his current physical condition she was quicker.

Swiftly she smacked it onto the side of the cockpit where it stuck. "Tah dah! Now the Bebop family wall is complete!" She ran her hands in front of the photo collection: Jet as a boy with the ship and his folks, Faye with her parents, and Ed as a tiny baby held in her parent's arms.

Spike's chest tightened. Now the one photo that had been missing was here … they had found his parents. He hadn't seen them since the morning of his sixth birthday when he'd left the apartment without telling them … when he'd returned to find it all … gone. Since that day … when he forced himself … to forget them.

"Does Spike-person like it? Why is he crying?"

He reached out and grabbed her, resting his chin in her hair, unable to stop shaking. "I'm ok, Ed. Thank you. This means more than I could possibly say."

Far more than he could say … through the flip of the poker chip he had discovered it, tripped upon the source of the paralyzing fear and even now he didn't know how to say it. Love … in the past he'd only had a brief touch of it in the warm caress of Julia's hands. Having banished all memory of the family that he'd lost, he'd never known another one. Julia … he only let her get close to him, no one else ever had. In their mutual hunger to find worth, to find value in their own lives they had savored a vitality neither had felt before. Love. He'd embraced it so hard … and it shattered his brittle heart. But it didn't matter. He had tasted it, felt it, lost it—left to suffer in the void to the throb of each worthless beat. He lived … but too numb to know if he'd wanted to. No one else had loved him … he'd never had a family in the Red Dragons, though many had looked up to him, they hadn't loved him—just used him for his skills.

That had been a lie.

This ship, this space-worn relic, held his home, a place where he belonged. But it held something far more precious. A family. His family. The one he had chosen … the one that had chosen him.

"Mmmmm." She hugged him back, clinging like a monkey. "Ed knew Spike would. Now he has to promise not to go crazy again."

He snorted a laugh. "That wasn't a choice."

"So. Still, no crazy." She pointed at the photos. "Faye can't go off on a bender. Spike has to stay sane and stay here. Our family stays together. Right Ein?"

"Woof!"

Spike reached out and scratched Ein's ears. "I promise. I'll try."

"Not try. Do!" Turning around, she settled in Spike's lap and started to hum the lullaby.

Even though Spike knew Faye and Jet stood at the top of the stairs having heard most of the prior conversation, he didn't care of they witnessed. He wrapped his arms around Ed and started to sing the lyrics softly, staring into the eyes in the image of his mother.

I'm sorry you couldn't see me grow up, both of you. I don't know that you'd be proud of me through a lot of that. I did a lot of dumb shit things … but … well. Let's just say I wish you'd been here, then maybe I wouldn't have. But somehow … even through time … you still managed to save my ass. Thank you … for everything.

I promise to live now.

Your son, Spike.

See You Space Cowboy

Thank you for joining me for the longest Darkwave Chronicle to date. There will be more, however due to logistics, the next one will be posted exclusively on Archive of Our Own. Look for me there! Same name, no space.