Suddenly, he felt very awkward. It would have been easier if they were strangers, if he'd never laid eyes on either one of them. It would have been easier if they hadn't been so close to Spike. It would have been easier if Faye hadn't buried her head in his shoulder. But he had, and they were, and she did.
He almost turned around and left the room, but he owed it to them to stay. He'd gotten them into this mess, however inadvertently. It was to find him that Kataki had hired Faye; because of her search that Dimitri had kidnapped her. No he owed her that much, and Jet.
He took a seat between them, and steeled himself for what he was about to say.
He opened his mouth, and hesitated.
"What is it?" Faye asked, impatiently.
How should he put it? "I... Faye, do you know what goes on it that building Dimitri was holding you in?"
"Other than the satisfaction of his sick, sadistic impulses? Not a clue."
"And how much did Dimitri tell you about me?"
"About as much as Kataki did, which is to say, nothing. I got the feeling that was on a sort of need-to-know basis, and I didn't. Why?"
Corbin sighed, "Lansing-Medcalf is a front for a genetic research lab." He paused, unsure of how to continue. "It's a building that I am all to familiar with," nothing like the direct approach, "since I escaped from there a year and a half ago."
Faye furrowed her brow, realization finally dawning on her. An escapee from a genetic research lab... what was he saying, that he was a... oh god, that's exactly what he was saying.
"You're a copy," she said flatly. A double, a long lost twin she could have handled, but this? A copy, a clone, a shadow of the original. Faye resisted the urge to double over, as the information hit her like a gut shot. It had suddenly become difficult to breathe.
And she had been fooled, ever so briefly. She thought she'd be sick.
Jet didn't look too surprised, though, Faye figured he'd already put two and two together; he'd had a bit more time to work on the puzzle than she'd had. Look at him, so calm, so unaffected. For a moment, she hated him for not preparing her for this. She wanted to hate Corbin too, but couldn't quite manage it.
He sighed again, and reached into his pocket for a cigarette, the familiar gesture sending Faye into another round of nausea. "The project was originally set up to make doubles of higher syndicate officials. They were supposed to be used as decoys.
"There were flaws... the clones had to believe that they were the originals, or they wouldn't be as convincing, they had to have a partial memory imprint, but even slight differences in brain structure could cause the imprint to fail. Most of the early subjects went crazy from the process, but they were beginning to make real progress
"That's when Dimitri took over the project. He used the experiments to create a Spike clone. He hoped that the ensuing power struggle would be enough to tear apart the Red Dragon's from the inside out."
"He was using you to cause confusion in the Red Dragon, to weaken them?"
"No. Not me. I was," he smiled wryly, "imperfect."
"I thought you said that they ended in insanity." Jet spoke up for the first time.
"Most of the time... I was lucky, if you could call it that. I was slated for termination... I was to be put in suspended animation indefinitely; Dimitri likes to keep all of his science projects. I escaped, leaving his collection thus far incomplete. He's been hunting me ever since. He views me as his own personal failure."
He leaned over the table, focusing on Jet, "And now, I want my payment for helping you find your partner."
"Anxious to get as far away from Dimitri as possible?" Jet couldn't blame him.
"Not exactly."
Faye stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. It wasn't that she wasn't tired, her body felt as heavy as a stone, and emotionally, she was exhausted, but for some reason, every time she closed her eyes, they sprang back open of their own accord. Physically and emotionally, she craved sleep. But her mind was whirling too fast to be shut down.
No more guilt... it said, no more guilt... did it count as betrayal if she served up a clone on a silver platter? Could she still live with herself?
It didn't matter, the question didn't matter... he had asked her to do it. He'd asked her to deliver him all wrapped up, with a pretty little bow, to a man who was hunting him down. Why? He said it was because he was tired of running... to Faye, he sounded like his predecessor. Perhaps it would end the same way.
Would it hurt so badly, she wondered, the second time around? Would she cry for this imperfect copy, just because of his patchwork memory and a shared face? She hoped not. She hoped that she had loved Spike for more than the curve of his jaw, or the shade of his eyes, she hoped she wasn't in love with his shell, she wanted to think better of herself than that.
Better and worse...
Why not cry for Corbin, she had wasted her love on a shell before. Spike had already been hollowed out by the time she met him. Time, and anguish, had eaten away at him until there was nothing left for her, but she had loved him anyway. There was something incredibly perverse, and masochistic about that. Her therapist would have a field day.
Spike... what would he say to his double?
She sat up, deciding that what she really needed wasn't sleep, but a mega-dose of nicotine and caffeine.
She made her way blearily to the kitchen, and was pleased to find that Jet had already started brewing a pot; she didn't really feel like sitting alone anyway.
"What are you doing up Faye? You should be in bed, I mean, you look like hell."
She flashed him a grim half-smile, "thanks, Jet, you always know just what to say to brighten my day."
She poured herself a cup of the life-giving brew, and drew a cigarette out of her pack.
She lit the slender stick as she sank into the cushioned seat, bright orange vinyl, like something straight out of the 1950's. Such vintage décor had been all the rage when she was growing up. So many years ago.
"When were you going to tell me?" she said after a long, steady pull.
"I didn't know for sure."
"But you suspected, right? Why didn't you say anything?"
"What could I say? How do I even begin a conversation like that?"
"You're right, Jet, this was much better!"
Jet turned away, and Faye was sorry she'd even brought it up. It wasn't Jet's fault. She shouldn't have taken her frustration out on him. She offered him a cigarette, by way of an apology.
He accepted with a knowing nod.
"So, what about tomorrow?" he asked.
"I'm supposed to take him alone to the drop, where the trade will be made, during which, I'll accidentally on purpose give Corbin access to one of my guns, and then... well, I haven't thought much past that. I guess John and I shoot our way out, and leave Corbin to his fate."
"Right."
"Right..."
Irma entered the room carrying a tray laden with food.
"Let me get that," he said, reaching for the tray.
His offer of assistance was out of habit only; Faye was fiercely independent, and stubbornly refused to admit she ever needed his help. In fact, the only people she ever asked for help were her old partner, and that kid. Never him, though... no matter how close they got, there was this wall between them. Faye was never vulnerable, not where he could see her; her heart was never open.
So it came as a shock when his offer of assistance was accepted.
"Thank you," Irma said, handing him the food, and taking a seat in an armchair.
He inhaled deeply the soothing scent of lilac and Jasmine that was Irma's trademark.
"So, to what do I owe the honor?"
She sighed heavily, there was a lot in that sigh, and it let the small woman looking even smaller.
"Faye contacted Dimitri an hour ago, she's found Corbin, and is exchanging him for you. I haven't contacted her yet, I... I came straight here to tell you the news, but I know that Dimitri has something up his sleeve. I've got to warn her to be on her toes."
"I see," John said, closing his eyes. "Faye's lucky to have you as an ally... I'm lucky to have you as an ally."
She answered with a shy smile. "Well, I better make that call..."
Faye's eyes had barely closed when the chirping of her recently restored communicator pulled her back out from under the covers. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the object... who would call...?
She hit the receive button with much trepidation, and was surprised to see Irma.
Irma, the woman had seemed such a puzzle before. She was obviously Dimitri's lover, but she had been so innocent, so pure, with her china-doll perfection.
"Irma..."
"F- Miss Valentine."
"What is it?"
"I... I think that Dimitri has something planned for you. I don't think he's going to let you get away... you've made him very angry, he says he's going to m-make you pay."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because after tomorrow, I'll be slated for termination."
"Why?"
Irma smiled bitterly, "He's going to get a sample of your DNA."
"A DNA sample? What the hell for?"
"You've made an impression on him... the last woman to do that looked like me, get the picture?"
"I see." Now, it all made sense. She *was* a china-doll, a piece of finely crafted glass. A genetic construct, like Corbin, made to be the perfect woman for Dimitri.
Faye smiled humorlessly, at the arrogance that enabled a man to make himself a mate. As far as she was concerned, the perfect mate for Dimitri was a she-alligator, snapping jaws and all.
"I just wanted you to know that I'm ready to help you in any way that I can."
Any way? "How good a shot are you?" there was the beginning of a solid plan forming in her mind.
A restful night was a rare thing to Corbin; he'd spent the majority of his short life either captive or on the run. In fact, in just over two years, he couldn't remember one single night he'd slept through, always too nervous to find true rest.
Except for last night. Last night he'd slept like a rock. It was something about this place, the comforting familiarity of the room, the reassuring presence of friends close to him that lulled him into a fitful slumber. Sure this wasn't really his room, and they weren't really his friends, but it was still a comfort.
It made him a little nervous when he woke the next morning restful.
He wondered how much of the sweet dreams he'd had belonged to him, and how much belonged to the other, to Spike. Ever since he'd come aboard, he felt as though he was living another man's life.
And he was tired of letting some one else control him, that's why he was confronting Dimitri in the first place.
From now on, no one else decided things for him, not Dimitri and his hunting, or Spike with his passed on emotional baggage.
"Today," he told himself, "Corbin makes his own decisions."
Faye sat at the coffee table, espresso in one hand, Marlboro in the other, staring ahead of her, out the window and into space.
Corbin... he was asleep in Spike's old room. That's where he'd stayed the night, tucked beneath Spike's sheets, defiling their sanctity with his imperfect presence. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, the way he'd just waltzed into their lives, destroying her peace, stomping out her dreams. It irked her that Jet had allowed him to stay, and that the big man had obviously taken a liking to him. Jet belonged to Spike, not Corbin, not this imposter.
She was absorbed in thought, and didn't notice Corbin enter the sitting room until he cleared his throat to get her attention.
"Huh?" she asked, looking up.
"Breakfast of Champions, I see."
"What? Oh," she gave him a cold smile, "yeah, gotta keep my strength up, have a busy day ahead of me."
"I can sympathize," Corbin said dryly, before plopping down in the seat next to her.
The thought that he looked very striking in the morning, his already unruly hair particularly rebellious, the rough, unshaven look to his face, the alert glint in his eyes, came unbidden into her mind. It was followed closely by the wave of nasuea that she had come to recognize as self-loathing.
Corbin was only an imperfect copy, what right did he have wearing Spike's face?
"Really?" she said in a tone that definitely didn't invite further conversation.
"Oh yeah, I have to play the prisoner tonight, remember?" he went on, ignoring the dismissal in her voice. "And I always was a terrible actor."
"Not surprising."
"So, what time are we supposed to meet with him?"
"6:00, in a park near his building."
"It has occurred to you," he started, as he lit his own cigarette, "that he will probably have something up his sleeve, hasn't it?"
"Naturally, but I have some one on it."
"Some one?"
"His girl, Irma, she found out where Dimitri's placing his people, so we're going down early to set some charges," she flashed her watch, "I give the signal, and Dimitri's extra help goes kaboom, that leaves us with only his guard to deal with, four guys, heavily armed. Piece of cake. I gave Irma the access code to my ship, so once the fighting breaks out, she's supposed to make sure John gets out, and give us room to work."
"And we wait for Jet to come charging in and save us?" Corbin asked with a raised eyebrow, "what about the gunship, which is most surely in orbit? One word from Dimitri, and Jet will be the one going "kaboom." We have to make sure he can't contact it... your hacker friend, could you get her to block his communication?"
"Good idea," she smiled, a mind for strategy, she hadn't expected that.
She wondered briefly just how deep the similarity ran, then she remembered what she'd thought about last night. "You're going to kill Dimitri, aren't you?"
"That's why I'm doing this at all. I'm not safe while he lives." He smiled wryly, "why, you haven't become attached to him, have you?"
"I was just curious how far you'd go, are you willing to die to make sure he goes?"
He leaned his chair back, and propped one foot on the table. "Now that would sort of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"
"John... John, wake up."
"Hnnn..."
"John, it's important."
He squeezed his eyes tight for moment, trying to ignore the insistent shaking, but to no avail. He blinked several times, before his eyes focused on the woman in front of him.
"Irma?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
"John... do you know how to use this?" she asked, pressing a pistol into his hand. John smiled at the feel of the cold metal in his hand.
"Faye showed me how... what's the plan?"
He almost turned around and left the room, but he owed it to them to stay. He'd gotten them into this mess, however inadvertently. It was to find him that Kataki had hired Faye; because of her search that Dimitri had kidnapped her. No he owed her that much, and Jet.
He took a seat between them, and steeled himself for what he was about to say.
He opened his mouth, and hesitated.
"What is it?" Faye asked, impatiently.
How should he put it? "I... Faye, do you know what goes on it that building Dimitri was holding you in?"
"Other than the satisfaction of his sick, sadistic impulses? Not a clue."
"And how much did Dimitri tell you about me?"
"About as much as Kataki did, which is to say, nothing. I got the feeling that was on a sort of need-to-know basis, and I didn't. Why?"
Corbin sighed, "Lansing-Medcalf is a front for a genetic research lab." He paused, unsure of how to continue. "It's a building that I am all to familiar with," nothing like the direct approach, "since I escaped from there a year and a half ago."
Faye furrowed her brow, realization finally dawning on her. An escapee from a genetic research lab... what was he saying, that he was a... oh god, that's exactly what he was saying.
"You're a copy," she said flatly. A double, a long lost twin she could have handled, but this? A copy, a clone, a shadow of the original. Faye resisted the urge to double over, as the information hit her like a gut shot. It had suddenly become difficult to breathe.
And she had been fooled, ever so briefly. She thought she'd be sick.
Jet didn't look too surprised, though, Faye figured he'd already put two and two together; he'd had a bit more time to work on the puzzle than she'd had. Look at him, so calm, so unaffected. For a moment, she hated him for not preparing her for this. She wanted to hate Corbin too, but couldn't quite manage it.
He sighed again, and reached into his pocket for a cigarette, the familiar gesture sending Faye into another round of nausea. "The project was originally set up to make doubles of higher syndicate officials. They were supposed to be used as decoys.
"There were flaws... the clones had to believe that they were the originals, or they wouldn't be as convincing, they had to have a partial memory imprint, but even slight differences in brain structure could cause the imprint to fail. Most of the early subjects went crazy from the process, but they were beginning to make real progress
"That's when Dimitri took over the project. He used the experiments to create a Spike clone. He hoped that the ensuing power struggle would be enough to tear apart the Red Dragon's from the inside out."
"He was using you to cause confusion in the Red Dragon, to weaken them?"
"No. Not me. I was," he smiled wryly, "imperfect."
"I thought you said that they ended in insanity." Jet spoke up for the first time.
"Most of the time... I was lucky, if you could call it that. I was slated for termination... I was to be put in suspended animation indefinitely; Dimitri likes to keep all of his science projects. I escaped, leaving his collection thus far incomplete. He's been hunting me ever since. He views me as his own personal failure."
He leaned over the table, focusing on Jet, "And now, I want my payment for helping you find your partner."
"Anxious to get as far away from Dimitri as possible?" Jet couldn't blame him.
"Not exactly."
Faye stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. It wasn't that she wasn't tired, her body felt as heavy as a stone, and emotionally, she was exhausted, but for some reason, every time she closed her eyes, they sprang back open of their own accord. Physically and emotionally, she craved sleep. But her mind was whirling too fast to be shut down.
No more guilt... it said, no more guilt... did it count as betrayal if she served up a clone on a silver platter? Could she still live with herself?
It didn't matter, the question didn't matter... he had asked her to do it. He'd asked her to deliver him all wrapped up, with a pretty little bow, to a man who was hunting him down. Why? He said it was because he was tired of running... to Faye, he sounded like his predecessor. Perhaps it would end the same way.
Would it hurt so badly, she wondered, the second time around? Would she cry for this imperfect copy, just because of his patchwork memory and a shared face? She hoped not. She hoped that she had loved Spike for more than the curve of his jaw, or the shade of his eyes, she hoped she wasn't in love with his shell, she wanted to think better of herself than that.
Better and worse...
Why not cry for Corbin, she had wasted her love on a shell before. Spike had already been hollowed out by the time she met him. Time, and anguish, had eaten away at him until there was nothing left for her, but she had loved him anyway. There was something incredibly perverse, and masochistic about that. Her therapist would have a field day.
Spike... what would he say to his double?
She sat up, deciding that what she really needed wasn't sleep, but a mega-dose of nicotine and caffeine.
She made her way blearily to the kitchen, and was pleased to find that Jet had already started brewing a pot; she didn't really feel like sitting alone anyway.
"What are you doing up Faye? You should be in bed, I mean, you look like hell."
She flashed him a grim half-smile, "thanks, Jet, you always know just what to say to brighten my day."
She poured herself a cup of the life-giving brew, and drew a cigarette out of her pack.
She lit the slender stick as she sank into the cushioned seat, bright orange vinyl, like something straight out of the 1950's. Such vintage décor had been all the rage when she was growing up. So many years ago.
"When were you going to tell me?" she said after a long, steady pull.
"I didn't know for sure."
"But you suspected, right? Why didn't you say anything?"
"What could I say? How do I even begin a conversation like that?"
"You're right, Jet, this was much better!"
Jet turned away, and Faye was sorry she'd even brought it up. It wasn't Jet's fault. She shouldn't have taken her frustration out on him. She offered him a cigarette, by way of an apology.
He accepted with a knowing nod.
"So, what about tomorrow?" he asked.
"I'm supposed to take him alone to the drop, where the trade will be made, during which, I'll accidentally on purpose give Corbin access to one of my guns, and then... well, I haven't thought much past that. I guess John and I shoot our way out, and leave Corbin to his fate."
"Right."
"Right..."
Irma entered the room carrying a tray laden with food.
"Let me get that," he said, reaching for the tray.
His offer of assistance was out of habit only; Faye was fiercely independent, and stubbornly refused to admit she ever needed his help. In fact, the only people she ever asked for help were her old partner, and that kid. Never him, though... no matter how close they got, there was this wall between them. Faye was never vulnerable, not where he could see her; her heart was never open.
So it came as a shock when his offer of assistance was accepted.
"Thank you," Irma said, handing him the food, and taking a seat in an armchair.
He inhaled deeply the soothing scent of lilac and Jasmine that was Irma's trademark.
"So, to what do I owe the honor?"
She sighed heavily, there was a lot in that sigh, and it let the small woman looking even smaller.
"Faye contacted Dimitri an hour ago, she's found Corbin, and is exchanging him for you. I haven't contacted her yet, I... I came straight here to tell you the news, but I know that Dimitri has something up his sleeve. I've got to warn her to be on her toes."
"I see," John said, closing his eyes. "Faye's lucky to have you as an ally... I'm lucky to have you as an ally."
She answered with a shy smile. "Well, I better make that call..."
Faye's eyes had barely closed when the chirping of her recently restored communicator pulled her back out from under the covers. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the object... who would call...?
She hit the receive button with much trepidation, and was surprised to see Irma.
Irma, the woman had seemed such a puzzle before. She was obviously Dimitri's lover, but she had been so innocent, so pure, with her china-doll perfection.
"Irma..."
"F- Miss Valentine."
"What is it?"
"I... I think that Dimitri has something planned for you. I don't think he's going to let you get away... you've made him very angry, he says he's going to m-make you pay."
"Why should I trust you?"
"Because after tomorrow, I'll be slated for termination."
"Why?"
Irma smiled bitterly, "He's going to get a sample of your DNA."
"A DNA sample? What the hell for?"
"You've made an impression on him... the last woman to do that looked like me, get the picture?"
"I see." Now, it all made sense. She *was* a china-doll, a piece of finely crafted glass. A genetic construct, like Corbin, made to be the perfect woman for Dimitri.
Faye smiled humorlessly, at the arrogance that enabled a man to make himself a mate. As far as she was concerned, the perfect mate for Dimitri was a she-alligator, snapping jaws and all.
"I just wanted you to know that I'm ready to help you in any way that I can."
Any way? "How good a shot are you?" there was the beginning of a solid plan forming in her mind.
A restful night was a rare thing to Corbin; he'd spent the majority of his short life either captive or on the run. In fact, in just over two years, he couldn't remember one single night he'd slept through, always too nervous to find true rest.
Except for last night. Last night he'd slept like a rock. It was something about this place, the comforting familiarity of the room, the reassuring presence of friends close to him that lulled him into a fitful slumber. Sure this wasn't really his room, and they weren't really his friends, but it was still a comfort.
It made him a little nervous when he woke the next morning restful.
He wondered how much of the sweet dreams he'd had belonged to him, and how much belonged to the other, to Spike. Ever since he'd come aboard, he felt as though he was living another man's life.
And he was tired of letting some one else control him, that's why he was confronting Dimitri in the first place.
From now on, no one else decided things for him, not Dimitri and his hunting, or Spike with his passed on emotional baggage.
"Today," he told himself, "Corbin makes his own decisions."
Faye sat at the coffee table, espresso in one hand, Marlboro in the other, staring ahead of her, out the window and into space.
Corbin... he was asleep in Spike's old room. That's where he'd stayed the night, tucked beneath Spike's sheets, defiling their sanctity with his imperfect presence. It left a bitter taste in her mouth, the way he'd just waltzed into their lives, destroying her peace, stomping out her dreams. It irked her that Jet had allowed him to stay, and that the big man had obviously taken a liking to him. Jet belonged to Spike, not Corbin, not this imposter.
She was absorbed in thought, and didn't notice Corbin enter the sitting room until he cleared his throat to get her attention.
"Huh?" she asked, looking up.
"Breakfast of Champions, I see."
"What? Oh," she gave him a cold smile, "yeah, gotta keep my strength up, have a busy day ahead of me."
"I can sympathize," Corbin said dryly, before plopping down in the seat next to her.
The thought that he looked very striking in the morning, his already unruly hair particularly rebellious, the rough, unshaven look to his face, the alert glint in his eyes, came unbidden into her mind. It was followed closely by the wave of nasuea that she had come to recognize as self-loathing.
Corbin was only an imperfect copy, what right did he have wearing Spike's face?
"Really?" she said in a tone that definitely didn't invite further conversation.
"Oh yeah, I have to play the prisoner tonight, remember?" he went on, ignoring the dismissal in her voice. "And I always was a terrible actor."
"Not surprising."
"So, what time are we supposed to meet with him?"
"6:00, in a park near his building."
"It has occurred to you," he started, as he lit his own cigarette, "that he will probably have something up his sleeve, hasn't it?"
"Naturally, but I have some one on it."
"Some one?"
"His girl, Irma, she found out where Dimitri's placing his people, so we're going down early to set some charges," she flashed her watch, "I give the signal, and Dimitri's extra help goes kaboom, that leaves us with only his guard to deal with, four guys, heavily armed. Piece of cake. I gave Irma the access code to my ship, so once the fighting breaks out, she's supposed to make sure John gets out, and give us room to work."
"And we wait for Jet to come charging in and save us?" Corbin asked with a raised eyebrow, "what about the gunship, which is most surely in orbit? One word from Dimitri, and Jet will be the one going "kaboom." We have to make sure he can't contact it... your hacker friend, could you get her to block his communication?"
"Good idea," she smiled, a mind for strategy, she hadn't expected that.
She wondered briefly just how deep the similarity ran, then she remembered what she'd thought about last night. "You're going to kill Dimitri, aren't you?"
"That's why I'm doing this at all. I'm not safe while he lives." He smiled wryly, "why, you haven't become attached to him, have you?"
"I was just curious how far you'd go, are you willing to die to make sure he goes?"
He leaned his chair back, and propped one foot on the table. "Now that would sort of defeat the purpose, wouldn't it?"
"John... John, wake up."
"Hnnn..."
"John, it's important."
He squeezed his eyes tight for moment, trying to ignore the insistent shaking, but to no avail. He blinked several times, before his eyes focused on the woman in front of him.
"Irma?" he asked, his voice thick with sleep.
"John... do you know how to use this?" she asked, pressing a pistol into his hand. John smiled at the feel of the cold metal in his hand.
"Faye showed me how... what's the plan?"