Lin is asleep. Fallen heavy on a white bed, eyes shut and body half-twisted as he lies breathing steady and slow. The planes of his face stark in the dark room, yellow light from the doorway bright on cheek and chin. In the street outside the lamps are on and no one walks the concrete roadside, the hawker stalls closed for this hour of early, dark, morning. The only sound is a voice, cheerful and charming, and it says:
"That's one..."
In the doorway there is the shadow of a woman, relaxed and leaning against the frame. A man walks up to the door; he has, leaning on his shoulder, a boy whose hair falls in dark, long spikes over the front of his face. The boy is also asleep. Spike Siegel says:
"And this... Two!"
"And you, zero," Julia says, her head tilting, eyes crinkling as she shakes her head at him. "You need to take better care of them, Spike."
"Ah, I know," Spike says.
But he does take care of them. She looks at him, sees him loosening the buttons that pull Shin's coat tight over the boy's slim neck; sees the way he glances, quick and calculating, over at Lin. The way he breathes out, satisfied, pleased that they are all right. She tries to imagine Vicious doing this, standing there, the two boys dragging their feet and weighing him down, lugging Shin on his shoulder and carrying Lin in his arms up the stairs, and she knows that is impossible.
"Forgot babies need so much sleep..."
He stands at her side, now, looking at the boys as they sleep. They are twins, he thinks, both handsome young men, but only Shin is aware of this; Shin who in his sleep seems to be no older than six, sometimes. Spike grins, remembering the night when he dialled three of Shin's phones and a different girl picked it up each time.
Shin, he thinks, is more aware, more like him. Practical. Soon Shin will start to question, to annoy, and perhaps then the Red Dragon will have to tighten its claws around him, to keep him in his place. But Spike has no worries about that; Shin, who is smart, aware, will know what to do, what to say, in order to stay alive.
It is Lin who is as innocent as he looks, asleep there on the white bed. Spike has a terrible feeling that, beneath the stiff spikes of black hair, there lies the boy's skull, soul, spirit, eggshell-thin and, in its frailty, beautiful. He wishes that he could protect Lin forever. Keep him safe from bullets and knives and poisonous words. But he knows that although he is fond of Lin, he cannot spare Lin this effort. There is Julia. There is his own life. And so he must step away, the guilt closing in a crushing grip on his ribs.
I'm sorry. So sorry. So sorry. When I feel regret, I'll get down on my knees and pray. I'm sorry. So sorry. So sorry...
"Why are they so tired?"
"They've been watching my back for three days. Three whole days." Spike feels the guilt pulling at him, stronger than ever. "I didn't know. They killed these guys who were tailing me... fell asleep telling me about it."
"They are so sweet," Julia says. Spike feels an emotion catch itself in his throat. He puts his arm around her waist, leans his chin on top of her head.
"Will you come with me?" he asks. It is the second time he is asking this question. The first time, he received no answer. Now --
"No."
"Why not?"
"He'll come after me."
"Not after me?"
"You know."
"Yes," Spike says, "I know."
"Do you have to go?"
"I think so."
"I wish you didn't."
"Let's pretend. Let's pretend... that we're okay. I'm your husband. That's our wedding photo. And this is our home."
"Those are our kids."
"They are kawaii," Spike says. He looks at the twins. Their breathing is steady and slow and, he swears, synchronized. "There's just one problem."
Julia lifts her head, looks at him.
"I hate kids!" he says softly. But he wears a lopsided smile, and presses his cheek into her forehead. She knows, then, that he is pretending, for all he is worth; pretending all these things he has said, and many more that are too painful to say, since both of them know these things will never come true. It is good, though, to think and hope that they might.
Lin is asleep. Perhaps in his dreams, he feels the pretend-love of mother and father washing over him, and since he has never known the real-love of mother and father, this feels like the real thing. He smiles in his sleep. Look, Spike. What do you think he's dreaming about? I don't know. Maybe he's in love. I hope so. I hope in the end, he's okay. I really hope so.
I'm sorry.