The usual disclaimer notice: I don't own Cowboy Bebop, Bandai/Sunrise does. This is just for fun, so don't sue me or I won't be able to buy Christmas presents for my family.
Author's Note: No fun insights this time: just that Spike is having a really off day…
OTHER CHOICES (PART THREE)
Spike closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm his heart and focus his mind on the task at hand: in through the nose, hold, out through the mouth. It didn't help. He turned from the elevator doors to Mao Yenrai's antechamber. If he had thought that the downstairs lobby was full, this was just plain ridiculous. The usually comfortable antechamber was stuffed with Vips: Clan Lords so important that they didn't need to wear the Syndicate coat to identify themselves, all pacing around like long tailed cats in a room full of rocking chairs. Spike almost turned to get back on the elevator, but he had never been a coward, and he wasn't about to start now. He made his way gingerly through the crowd to the desk of Mao's secretary, a small, rather mousy man who seemed to be awestruck at the room full of Mars' leading business men.
"Excuse me," he said trying to get the man's attention, "but could you tell Mr. Mao that Spike is here to see him, please?" The secretary took in his coat and relatively low ranking and gave him a look of hard contempt.
"You do see all of these people, right?" he asked in a voice that dripped self-importance. "They all have something called an appointment. Something I'm sure that even someone like you should have at least have heard about." Spike felt his eyes grow wider with each word the man spoke. Not only was the man a snob, but he also seemed completely unaware that he was working for a Syndicate, and that insulting a "Black Coat" was a quick way to get killed. One of the Vips rescued the man from Spike's impending biting sarcasm with a wink.
"I think you should announce this one, Seymour. I'll give up my place for him." Seymour looked at Spike dubiously, but did as he was told.
"Mr. Mao," he said into the speaker phone, "there is a 'Spike' here to see you…he doesn't have an appointment, sir, but…"
"What?!" Mao's voice crackled through the speaker, "Send him in immediately, Seymour…appointment? Bah!" Spike felt his habitual smirk widen as the secretary looked stricken.
"Don't bother to get up, Seymour, I know the way in." Spike sketched a bow to the helpful Vip as he walked past the secretary's desk. He passed three more Vips coming down the long hall from Mao's office. One 'tsk'-ed him, and one shook his head. Spike got the feeling that this did not bode well for him as he knocked on the door.
"Come in, Spike," the familiar voice on the other side of the door sounded indifferent. Spike entered, and closed the door softly, engaging the anti-listening devices that protected the room. Mao sat behind his huge mahogany desk with his back to the spectacular view that the windows at the top of the Red Dragon Building afforded him. "Seymour," he said into the speaker phone, "I'm taking no other appointments tonight, please extend my apologies, and then you may go."
"But sir, Mr. Boswell from…"
"I know where Mr. Boswell is from, Seymour. Please just do as I asked, and then you may go home."
"Good help is sooo hard to find," Spike said sarcastically, inadvertently drawing attention to himself. Mao raised an eyebrow at him.
"I see that the rumors of your demise have been greatly exaggerated," Spike allowed himself a small smile at the choice of words. "Would you care to explain exactly what happened this afternoon?" Spike began to pace unconsciously as he tried to find a way to tell the man who had brought him off the street, gotten him educated, and ultimately found him a place in the Clan that he now thought that this whole way of life was wrong.
"Ummmm…well…I don't really know where to start."
"This must really be serious, Spike; you haven't tried to steal anything from my desk, yet." Mao said with mock severity. Spike blushed as he slipped a netsuke back into place. Mao raised his eyebrows again, but let it slide. "Start from the beginning; and sit down, you're making me tired." Spike sank into the couch opposite the desk. He sighed and nodded to himself.
"I guess it started when I fell in love with Julia. Before that, I could have been any Clan Black Coat: 'death to the enemy,' and 'all honor to the Red Dragon.' After that, I began to really think about what we were doing, and I realized that we were actually hurting people, and throwing our lives away for no good reason. That there had to be a better way to do business." Spike looked down at his boots, talking to the carpet. "I wanted out, and this job with the Stone Dogs was the perfect opportunity. Leave a little blood and DNA at the scene, disappear, and everyone thinks I'm dead."
"So why'd you come back?" Mao asked quietly. Spike looked up past him out the window.
"Because Julia wouldn't come with me; and because Vicious knew what I had planned, and sent her to kill me. I couldn't in all honor let her come back alone. She would have been a target for reprisals."
"Vicious must not have really wanted you dead, if he sent Julia to kill you," Mao laughed. "Really, I'm going to have to send that girl to Anastasia for some training, one day." It was Spike's turn to quirk an eyebrow. It seemed that everyone really did know that Julia was a bad shot. Spike shook his head to return his focus.
"The funny thing is that Julia wanted our lives to stay the same, and Vicious thought that if I killed Julia, I would have no reason to leave, and everything would stay the same; and so now I'm stuck here in a life that I've grown to hate because my lover and my best friend don't want to change." Spike forced himself to smile. "I can't lead my cohort, because I don't believe in what we're doing anymore. I don't know what to do, Mao. Isn't that hilarious?"
"You know, I had a bet with the Van that you'd be the first to grow a conscious. They were backing Lin, but I knew better." Spike felt his eyes widen at this seemingly unrelated comment.
"The Van makes bets? Somehow, that image is just wrong," Spike said. Mao laughed.
"I could tell you things about the Van that would straighten even your hair, Spike."
"Please don't, I'm already scared enough of them as it is," Spike, running his hand through his hair, laughed hard, feeling all of the tension that had built up during the day release.
"Good, that's as it should be," Mao said sagely. "Since you've grown this conscious, I'm going to let you in on a secret Spike. I've been in negotiations with the White Tigers, to find your 'better way.' " Spike felt his jaw sag.
"But they're the enemy."
"Yes, but an alliance between our Clans would drive the smaller syndicates out of business, and the constant warfare would end. So you see, you are not alone in feeling that the old way is wrong. We are at a delicate stage of negotiations now, however, and a war with the Stone Dogs would have jeopardized everything that I have worked for so far. So, despite the pain that all of this has caused you, I'm really glad you came back. I wish you had come to me earlier, though. But it is the prerogative of the young to be selfish."
"I thought you would be disappointed in me. That's why I didn't come to you."
"Disappointed? You just won me four million woolongs. Just don't let it happen again; you nearly gave me a heart attack!" Spike smiled, this would be an easy promise to keep.
"Yes, sir," he said with a mock salute as he stood to leave. Mao raised his hand to stop him.
"There are two more things before you go. Julia and Vicious are not alone in wanting things to stay the same. There are others who would do anything to stop the negotiations with the Tigers, and this near war with the Stone Dogs has shown them that you are a weak spot for me. Someone may try to use you to force me to stop the talks; I cannot let that happen, so, your cohort is to be disbanded as of tomorrow. They'll all be given promotions and scattered around the Solar System. It seems that you'll get to go into hiding after all, my boy." Spike bit his lip but nodded.
"You said two things, sir?" he asked quietly.
"Yes," Mao said, turning his chair toward the window to take in the view of Tharsis at night. "Put the other netsuke back before you leave."