Spike lounged in the cockpit of one of the abandoned fighter ships in the hangar. Smoke from his cigarette swirled around him, and the broken down radio crooned garbled music.
Suddenly, there was a loud rapping from the hangar door.
The lady stood there, cast in shadow, knocking lightly on the rusted aluminum wall.
Spike scrambled out of the plane, and sauntered over to her.
They sat down at Spike's makeshift table, made from a board resting on two oil drums. "So. How's Krishta taking all this?" Spike asked, leaning his elbows lightly on the table to keep it from tipping over. Once again, he found himself looking down the barrel of a gun.
He slowly raised his hands above his head, staring at the lady, who glared at him fiercely.
"You swore on your honor that you wouldn't bring any weapons." Spike didn't accuse her, he simply stated the fact.
"Bounty hunters don't have honor, Spike." Her words were taunting, as she threw his own words back in his face.
He stared levelly at her, not moving a muscle, as they locked eyes.
Finally she slammed the gun onto the table with a growl. "Dammit Spike! Why are you doing this to me?"
He sat down across from her and looked over at her, standing above him. It was the first good look he'd gotten, and he committed the facts away in his memory, to mull over later.
She was medium height, several inches shorter than himself, with a slender figure, and lightly defined muscles. She had rust red hair; that fell in slight waves to a few inches below her shoulders. Fiery emerald eyes stared from behind long lashes. A spattering of freckles across the bridge of a perfect nose, and one large hoop earring in her right ear completed her appearance.
She wore a black and red cat suit, with tan knee and elbow guards. Matching tan holsters rode on each hip, with wraparound thigh sheaths holding two long knives. A hat was perched on the back of her head, she had black combat boots on her feet, a black fingerless glove on her right hand, and a red one on her left.
Spike shook his head when he realized he was staring, and grabbed a bell pepper off his plate, popping it in his mouth.
She gingerly sat across from him, and speared a pepper for herself with a fork.
"Well. Since we're eating together, and you obviously know mine, dare I ask your name?"
She looked up startled. "Why would you want to know that?"
"Well if I'm going to be having you repeatedly threaten my life, I ought to be able to call you more than, "hey you" or "lady", right?"
She rolled her eyes, and pulled off her hat. "I'm known as Fedora."
Spike smiled, and opened a bottle of Winyard. "Fedora. I like it. So… Fedora. What brought you to this neck of the woods?"
Fedora hiccupped, and giggled, as Spike seemed to multiply around her. "Hi Spike! And hi other Spike! And that Spike over there… And that one too!"
Spike (the real one stood), and promptly fell over. "Wow…That's some strong stuff!"
She giggled again. "Yup yup!"
Spike pulled himself slowly to his feet. "Hey 'Dora! Ya wanna dance?"
She giggled harder, and staggered to her feet, upsetting the makeshift table in the process. "Whoopsie! I made a boo-boo!" She put a hand over her mouth and snickered. She grabbed Spike's hand, and they waltzed crazily around the room. "Whee!"
Spike's grin threatened to stretch around his head and chop it in half. "Come on!" He pulled her towards one of the abandoned ships.
The stumbled up the ladder, pulling each other up, until they fell giggling into the backseat.
Fedora hiccupped, and twirled her finger in one of Spike's wiry curls. "That was fun, Spike-Spike! Let's do that again!"
Spike grinned, and reached for her hand, to find that it wasn't there. After finally grabbing her real hand, he pulled off one of the gloves.
She giggled, and tugged at his tie. "Silly-billy Spike-Spike!"
As his arms wrapped around her, she muttered, "Something tells me we're going to regret this in the morning…"
Fedora opened her eyes, as a shaft of sunlight seared beneath her eyelids.
She shaded her eyes with one hand, and sat up. Or tried to.
Something was wrapped around her waist, keeping her from fully sitting up.
She looked down. An arm?! Almost fearing what she would see, she looked over to see none other than Spike Spiegel asleep next to her.
Oh m'god! Oh m'god! I SLEPT WITH SPIKE SPIEGEL!
She looked around in horror. The old hangar was too familiar in her mind, and the worn leather seats they were laying on, felt all too warm beneath her hands.
Oh m'god! I gotta get out of here before he wakes up…She looked over at Spike and a small smile crept onto her face. He looks so peaceful there…I'm sorry Spike. I'm so, so, sorry…She shook her head, and slid carefully out from under his arm, grabbing her clothes from where they were scattered around the aircraft.
Once fully dressed, she took one last look at Spike, and smiled again. "I'm really sorry Spike. I don't regret what happened. I regret what I'm about to do."
She kissed his cheek, and brushed a curl from his neck. "I wish I could stay. I wish I didn't care. But I do, and in this world, caring is signing your death warrant. I'm sorry…" she whispered. "This hurts, but it's better this way. I'll just fade away into your memory. Forget me, Spike Spiegel. Adieu." She closed her eyes, as a single tear dripped off her face and landed on his bare shoulder.
"Adieu…" and then she was gone.
When her footsteps disappeared, one hazel eye opened, followed by another, darker one. "Adieu…"