NB: I should write a book about all the things I don't own, but wish I did.
All right! No more monkey business. Time to get serious.
ARGH!!! I swear to God, this is my 6th attempt to write this chapter. Nothing sounded right. I almost gave up!
But here it is...Chapter FIVE!
**
Nightmare: The Choosing Game
**
Spike didn't return until very late, partly because of his continuing search for take-out wontons, and partly because he was embarrassed to show his face. He entered the Bebop empty handed, and only after the urge to wring Ed's neck had passed. He imagined that Ed had already told Faye about the incident, and if she hadn't, Jet wouldn't waste any time. Spike wondered if she would have interpreted it the same way he had.
And it was all in the way that he had interpreted it that had made it so embarrassing. He knew Ed wasn't referring to Faye's anatomy when she chanted about her wontons. He wouldn't admit it at first, but the perversion was all in his own mind. Of course, Jet had seen right through him, which made it all worse.
Without turning on any lights, he moved to sit down onto the yellow couch, loosening his tie. The itching of his abdominal wound had turned into a constant burn. //I really should check on it...later...\\ Placing his hand over the bandaged area, he tilted his head over the back of couch and closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind.
It was impossible.
Without opening his eyes, he reached into his jacket for his cigarettes, as though the act of smoking would take his mind off of her. He sighed when he remembered he no longer had a lighter, and dropping his hand to his side, he continued to sit with his eyes closed.
He tried to push away the gnawing guilt that was growing in the pit of his stomach. With every image of Faye that flooded through his mind, the guilty sensation seemed to expand. Ever since he had turned his back on her before he left to kill Vicious, Faye's face took permanent root in his mind. When he tried to replace it with Julia, he found he couldn't, and his betrayal left a lump in his throat. He had died with Faye's tear stained face in his mind's eye, and he had come back to that same face.
//But it's not like I'm in love with her,\\ he tried to reason with himself. //She's not my type...\\
Before he could finish the thought, he was inundated with the memory of Faye firing her gun after him as he left. He could almost believe that it was her unwillingness to see him go that made her stick to his mind. She wanted to physically harm him in order to prevent him from leaving. She wanted him to stay.
//Julia never tried-\\
He stopped himself. He couldn't bring himself to even finish the thought. //That was totally different. There is no comparison,\\ Spike told himself, but the gnawing guilt exploded within him, telling him that he was very wrong. //They both knew I was going to get killed, when I left them,\\ he thought bitterly. //But only Faye really tried to stop me, even if she knew she couldn't...\\
Spike absent-mindedly retrieved a cigarette, placing it between his lips. He didn't remove it when he remembered his missing lighter again.
//Only Faye tried to stop me,\\ he thought again, //And I never even gave her a reason to.\\
With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes with his palms. //I'm not thinking about this anymore. I'm tired, I'm hungry, my stomach itches, and I'm not about to think mushy thoughts about THAT woman.\\
He couldn't help it. He had to smirk. //Even in she does have nice wontons...\\
Palms still rubbing his eyes, he clenched his hands and growled in frustration.
"What am I doing?" he spoke aloud, but careful to keep the unlit cigarette in place. It provided a small comfort, simply resting there. "What the hell am I doing?"
"Who knows," a familiar voice replied, followed by the click of a lighter. "You should get some sleep."
Lowering his hands, Spike raised his head, opened his eyes, and took a drag from his now lit cigarette. Faye stood before him in the dark, lighting her own cigarette before sitting on the table across from him. He hadn't heard her come into the room, and definitely hadn't heard her walk over to him.
"Yo." He wanted to ask her why she was still up, if she had been waiting for him, if she was still mad at him. But couldn't bring himself to.
"Thanks for the light," she smirked, holding his lighter out to him. Spike looked at it skeptically. He fought the urge to reach down and rub his calf, which was still sore from when Ed bit him.
"Does Ed know you have that?" he asked, not taking it from her. "She bites, you know."
"She made me a deal," Faye replied, looking at Spike slyly. Spike felt his face burn. "She said if I made her some wontons, she'd give me your lighter." She took a drag from her cigarette, and Spike watched the smoke curl slowly, delicately, from between her lips. "It's just as well," Faye continued in a light tone. "I temporarily misplaced my lighter, so yours came in handy."
"Temporarily?" He suddenly felt strange, staring at her in her pajamas. He had never seen those pajamas before. They were big, loose, and looked like they were made out of fleece. She looked comfortable. He wanted to reach out --
"Well, I found it," she said, still holding his lighter out to him. "So I guess you can have yours back."
"Thanks," he muttered, reaching out to take it, but Faye snatched it back.
"For a price."
"Of course." Sighing, Spike leaned back into the couch, putting his feet up on the table next to Faye. He raised his brows in unamused expectation.
"Hmmm," she made a show of assessing his lighter, holding it up as though there was a light to examine it under. "I wouldn't take anything less than 500 woolong."
Spike glared at her through his embarrassment, gritting his teeth. Seeing his expression, Faye laughed and tossed him his lighter. Spike caught it in surprise. //That's it? She isn't going to keep playing with me?\\
They stared at each other for several moments, and Spike almost forgot about the burning itch on his abdomen. Faye's eyes looked enormous in the dark, and Spike could see enough of her to tell that she was looking at him strangely. Her gaze lacked all the scorn and amusement she had harbored against him. Spike almost looked away when he realized that she was looking at him with affection. Plain and simple. It made him more than uncomfortable, but he couldn't say that he wanted her to stop.
// Don't think you have nothing to lose anymore,\\ he could hear the holy woman's voice in his head. //That young woman didn't come here today while on a simple Sunday stroll.\\
Spike smirked. Krai had also told him that Ed was fond of him...//then the little freak bit me.\\
"Does this mean you've forgiven me?" Spike finally ventured after a long silence. He kept an amused tone in his voice so that Faye wouldn't know that he actually cared. But she only smiled and looked away.
"You hungry?" she asked him after more silence. As if on que, Spike's stomach growled.
"Starved." He watched Faye get up from the table and walk away, but he made no move himself. Yet.
"If you hurry," she said over her shoulder, "There might be some wontons left by the time you catch up."
And that was enough incentive for him.
**
Spike followed Faye into the galley, and had barely settled himself on a stool before she placed a steaming bowl of wonton soup before him. Spike wondered if she had originally prepared it for herself, as his appeared to be the last portion. He watched her carry the empty pot to the large sink and fill it with water. She then turned to face him, leaning back against the sink. She wasn't smiling.
"Think of it as a peace offering," she said, crossing her arms, looking down at Spike's feet. "Life is too short for us to spend fighting all the time."
Spike was stunned. There she was, the queen of controversy with the lengthened life span, telling him that life was too short to spend fighting. He didn't think it was possible for he and Faye to hold any type of relationship, regardless of its nature, and not fight. But he didn't say that to her. He found he had no desire to be irksome. At least, not until he had finished his wontons.
"But that's what we do best," he said with a nonchalant sigh, trying to keep the mood light. Faye was still staring at his feet, and he began to feel uncomfortable again. "Don't you want any?" he asked, drawing Faye's attention to the bowl in front of him. "I might be willing to share."
Faye only smirked before moving to open the small fridge. She pulled out a plate of leftovers, which Spike could only describe as looking like green 'schlop'.
"You're not serious," Spike muttered after cooling down a wonton enough to pop it into his mouth. "What is that shit?"
"Beats me," Faye replied, heating it up. "Jet calls it his 'Rare Garlic Rapini."
Spike made gagging sounds, but Faye only shrugged.
"It's not bad, once you get over the bitterness."
"And wash it down with motor oil," Spike snickered, popping another wonton into his mouth. "I hate to admit it, but these could pass as some decent wontons." He wasn't quite willing to admit that he couldn't really remember having better. He would stick with 'decent'.
Faye didn't say anything as she retrieved her plate of food and took a mouthful of the green mess. Spike didn't miss her grimace, and even before that, he didn't miss the hint of sadness that hid behind her eyes. He tried to ignore it, not wanting to bring it up. And so they both sat in silence, eating their meals.
It was some time before Spike realized that Faye was staring at him. When he looked up, she couldn't mask her sadness quickly enough. But again, he said nothing.
"Are you glad that you're back?" she asked him with a slight smile, voice barely above a whisper. Spike immediately looked down at his almost finished bowl of wonton soup. He wasn't hungry anymore. He felt the force behind her question, the parts left unasked. //She wants to know if I'm glad that I'm alive...\\ He didn't know if he could possibly answer that question. Not with the answer she wanted to hear. When he looked up again, she was almost in front of him, half sitting on the galley countertop.
"You never answered my question," he said easily, putting his hands behind his head. He knew that she actually had answered his question of forgiveness; the bowl of wontons was proof enough of that. But he felt the desperate need to avoid her question.
"What question?" she murmured, and Spike held his breath as she moved away from the countertop and stood very close to him. She raised her hand as if to touch his face, but she hesitated. Against his will, Spike lowered a hand from his head and took hold of her hand. The guilty feeling tore through his body and he began to sweat, but he wouldn't stop her. He couldn't.
"I asked if you had forgiven me," he muttered, feeling his face burn again. He suddenly felt very stupid. "I mean, because I made fun of you," he stammered, looking away. //What the hell's wrong with me?\\ "For doting on me. You -"
He was silenced as Faye face came very close to his. Before he realized what was happening, he felt Faye's lips on his. The lightest touch, but he could barely breathe. When he didn't respond, Faye pulled back. Spike couldn't look at her.
"I'll take that as a no," he said with dry humour. It came out harsher than he intended. Faye, still very close to him, stiffened.
"What do you mean?" she demanded, and Spike could hear the anger in her voice.
He tried to act coy, making up for the damage he had just done.
"Kissing someone after eating Jet's Rare Garlic Rapini is the most severe form of cruel and unusual punishment."
Faye's face fell, and Spike immediately regretted his words. It must have sounded as though he was telling her not to kiss him, or that he didn't like it. In truth, Spike had no idea what he wanted at that moment, except that he didn't want to hurt her. Not anymore.
But he had hurt her.
Crestfallen, Faye turned to leave, but Spike caught her arm gently. Like he had in the cathedral basement, he pulled her back to him. He kept his hand on her arm, as if he was afraid she would leave.
"I don't know if I'm glad to be back," he said, trying to answer her question. "I haven't had anything to lose in a long time." Spike swallowed. "Not even -" He couldn't finish the thought. He looked up at Faye and shrugged. "I just don't know."
He was surprised to see Faye nod, smiling sadly. But she didn't say anything, and Spike let her go. He watched her leave.
When she was gone, he placed his elbows on the countertop and rested his head in his hands. He didn't realize how hot he was. The guilty feeling in his stomach was beginning to make him numb. He tried to imagine Julia again, her face, her hair, her voice...anything...But Faye's image washed over it like water, and he felt his mouth go dry.
//When I faced Vicious, I thought I had nothing to lose,\\ Spike thought, beginning to feel exhausted. "She's changing everything," he said aloud, almost bitterly. "THAT woman is changing everything."
**
After only four hours of sleep, Spike awoke with an agonizing dryness in his mouth. When he tried to swallow, it felt as though his tongue was tearing away his palate. He tried to sit up, clutching his throat as if it would ease the pain, but he didn't make it. Spike sank back down onto his sweat soaked sheets.
He was on fire, and the heat seemed to be emanating from his abdomen in all directions. When he tried to place a hand over the bandaged wound, he was greeted by sharp, unbearable pain.
He shifted himself as carefully as he could to the edge of his bed, swinging his legs slowly over the side. When he finally managed to sit up, Spike couldn't suppress a groan. His head pounded and his vision blurred. //What the hell...\\
He dragged himself to his feet, at first using the small table by his bed for support, then the wall. He stood for several moments, just leaning his body against the cool metal. When he began to move, he had to concentrate very hard on placing one foot in front of the other. //Feels like...\\
He stumbled when he reached his door, and it took more strength than he thought he had to keep himself on his feet. //Feels like my brain...\\ His door opened, and he was met with momentary relief as cool air washed over him, but the burning soon took over again. He forced himself to keep moving. //Feels like my brain is falling...//
Inch by inch he made his way to the bathroom, fighting the urge to swallow. //Burns...\\
Spike couldn't remember making it to the bathroom, or entering it. He simply found himself leaning on the sink, using his arms to support his weight. He stared at himself in the mirror, unable to focus on his image, but able to see how red he was. //What...\\. He could feel beads of sweat traveling down his face, down his neck, and down his back. //What the hell's wrong...\\
He couldn't focus on the faucet, and found himself fumbling to turn it on. He lowered himself so that the flow of the water struck him in the face, and for a moment, he felt bliss. He tried to concentrate some of the flow into his mouth, forcing it down his throat, but he couldn't do it without choking.
Spike focused long enough to turn the water off and grab the antiseptic he had left on the counter. He then let himself sink back onto the floor, resting his back against the wall. He sat there for several minutes, breathing hard and wiping sweat from his eyes, before he made to lift his tank top over the bandage on his stomach. He gingerly pulled at the edges of his bandage, trying to remove it as painlessly as possible. //Left it...too long...\\
Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he pulled steadily on the bandage until it released his skin. He took several deeps breaths before he ventured to look at his infected wound. When he did look at it, he could hear himself cursing Faye for neglecting him.
The long gash was crimson, standing out like a beacon on his already red skin. The flesh was puckered, and at the slightest touch, would send white flashes of pain dancing across his vision.
//Suck it up,\\ he told himself, lifting the bottle of antiseptic and trying to unscrew the lid. //Not so bad...\\ His hand slipped from the cap, and he had to try again. //Just a fever.\\ The cap finally gave way, and the hand that removed it dropped limply to his side. //Just a bad fever...\\
He didn't know what else to do. Trying to hold the bottle as steadily as possible, Spike poured its entire contents over the length of the gash. He was relieved when it didn't sting, but the pressure of the liquid hitting the infected skin caused more of the searing pain. He watched as the liquid bubbled and foamed along the gash, and then flooded off of his body in white rivulets.
Spike sat against the bathroom wall for what seemed to him as hours. The longer he sat, the hotter he felt, and he found himself nodding off. He had enough sense and enough strength left to lift his back from off the wall and force himself onto his hands and knees. He then crawled painfully slow to the tub, and upon reaching it, allowed himself to tumble in. Shifting to his back, he used his foot to try and turn the cold-water tap on, and water erupted from the large tub faucet. He spent the last of his energy trying to hit the switch that would force the water out of the showerhead and down onto him.
When at last he felt the icy water cascade against him, Spike closed his eyes and lost consciousness.
**
Everything shifted from gray to black, and from the darkness, his recurring nightmare formed.
Spike was trying to level his gun, trying to concentrate on the figure that stood at the top of the stairs. But his vision betrayed him. He couldn't open his one eye, and the other kept blurring.
He fired. Once. Twice. He didn't need his eyes to tell him that he missed. But it didn't matter. Not anymore. With a consuming fury, he found himself rushing up the stairs to meet Vicious head on. The man was ready for him, and Spike could feel every blow he blocked, and every blow that hit its mark.
He said something, but all he could hear was her name tear from his mouth, and it hung in the darkness, as Vicious' reply was nothing but air screaming past his ears.
He lunged forward again, but his limbs felt heavy, and his vision darkened. He tried to pull away, but something within him kept forcing him on. With every blow he bestowed upon Vicious, his vision cleared, but with every blow received, he fell further into darkness.
He wanted the darkness. He would have given in if the weight of his gun hadn't left him, and the flash of Vicious' sword landing at his feet hadn't caught his eye. Spike could barely think, and as he stood facing Vicious, he knew he was going to die. He had known before he left the Bebop, and he accepted it. He accepted it because he had nothing else to lose. Spike never wanted to have anything to lose ever again.
"Let's end it all." His words cut across the silence, echoing into the darkness surrounding them.
"If that is your wish."
Nothing ever prepared him for the voice behind those words. And nothing ever stopped him from tossing Vicious' sword forward.
It was the only time he could see her face anymore, in his dreams. In those few precious moments where he stood facing her, Julia never looked at him. She always looked through him; beyond him at something he could only perceive himself once he seemingly drifted aside, becoming a bystander.
He would then look back to where he had stood, and see Faye standing in his place.
She held his gun aimed steadily at Julia, and Julia held Vicious' sword, ready to strike Faye. Spike would watch in horror, trying to step forward to get between them, but he found that he could only go one way or the other. There was no in between. The closer he came to Faye, he tried to pull towards Julia. The closer he came to Julia, he tried to pull towards Faye. He couldn't save them both.
He had to choose.
**
ARGH again! I need to go bang my head against a wall or something.
All right! No more monkey business. Time to get serious.
ARGH!!! I swear to God, this is my 6th attempt to write this chapter. Nothing sounded right. I almost gave up!
But here it is...Chapter FIVE!
**
Nightmare: The Choosing Game
**
Spike didn't return until very late, partly because of his continuing search for take-out wontons, and partly because he was embarrassed to show his face. He entered the Bebop empty handed, and only after the urge to wring Ed's neck had passed. He imagined that Ed had already told Faye about the incident, and if she hadn't, Jet wouldn't waste any time. Spike wondered if she would have interpreted it the same way he had.
And it was all in the way that he had interpreted it that had made it so embarrassing. He knew Ed wasn't referring to Faye's anatomy when she chanted about her wontons. He wouldn't admit it at first, but the perversion was all in his own mind. Of course, Jet had seen right through him, which made it all worse.
Without turning on any lights, he moved to sit down onto the yellow couch, loosening his tie. The itching of his abdominal wound had turned into a constant burn. //I really should check on it...later...\\ Placing his hand over the bandaged area, he tilted his head over the back of couch and closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind.
It was impossible.
Without opening his eyes, he reached into his jacket for his cigarettes, as though the act of smoking would take his mind off of her. He sighed when he remembered he no longer had a lighter, and dropping his hand to his side, he continued to sit with his eyes closed.
He tried to push away the gnawing guilt that was growing in the pit of his stomach. With every image of Faye that flooded through his mind, the guilty sensation seemed to expand. Ever since he had turned his back on her before he left to kill Vicious, Faye's face took permanent root in his mind. When he tried to replace it with Julia, he found he couldn't, and his betrayal left a lump in his throat. He had died with Faye's tear stained face in his mind's eye, and he had come back to that same face.
//But it's not like I'm in love with her,\\ he tried to reason with himself. //She's not my type...\\
Before he could finish the thought, he was inundated with the memory of Faye firing her gun after him as he left. He could almost believe that it was her unwillingness to see him go that made her stick to his mind. She wanted to physically harm him in order to prevent him from leaving. She wanted him to stay.
//Julia never tried-\\
He stopped himself. He couldn't bring himself to even finish the thought. //That was totally different. There is no comparison,\\ Spike told himself, but the gnawing guilt exploded within him, telling him that he was very wrong. //They both knew I was going to get killed, when I left them,\\ he thought bitterly. //But only Faye really tried to stop me, even if she knew she couldn't...\\
Spike absent-mindedly retrieved a cigarette, placing it between his lips. He didn't remove it when he remembered his missing lighter again.
//Only Faye tried to stop me,\\ he thought again, //And I never even gave her a reason to.\\
With a sigh, he rubbed his eyes with his palms. //I'm not thinking about this anymore. I'm tired, I'm hungry, my stomach itches, and I'm not about to think mushy thoughts about THAT woman.\\
He couldn't help it. He had to smirk. //Even in she does have nice wontons...\\
Palms still rubbing his eyes, he clenched his hands and growled in frustration.
"What am I doing?" he spoke aloud, but careful to keep the unlit cigarette in place. It provided a small comfort, simply resting there. "What the hell am I doing?"
"Who knows," a familiar voice replied, followed by the click of a lighter. "You should get some sleep."
Lowering his hands, Spike raised his head, opened his eyes, and took a drag from his now lit cigarette. Faye stood before him in the dark, lighting her own cigarette before sitting on the table across from him. He hadn't heard her come into the room, and definitely hadn't heard her walk over to him.
"Yo." He wanted to ask her why she was still up, if she had been waiting for him, if she was still mad at him. But couldn't bring himself to.
"Thanks for the light," she smirked, holding his lighter out to him. Spike looked at it skeptically. He fought the urge to reach down and rub his calf, which was still sore from when Ed bit him.
"Does Ed know you have that?" he asked, not taking it from her. "She bites, you know."
"She made me a deal," Faye replied, looking at Spike slyly. Spike felt his face burn. "She said if I made her some wontons, she'd give me your lighter." She took a drag from her cigarette, and Spike watched the smoke curl slowly, delicately, from between her lips. "It's just as well," Faye continued in a light tone. "I temporarily misplaced my lighter, so yours came in handy."
"Temporarily?" He suddenly felt strange, staring at her in her pajamas. He had never seen those pajamas before. They were big, loose, and looked like they were made out of fleece. She looked comfortable. He wanted to reach out --
"Well, I found it," she said, still holding his lighter out to him. "So I guess you can have yours back."
"Thanks," he muttered, reaching out to take it, but Faye snatched it back.
"For a price."
"Of course." Sighing, Spike leaned back into the couch, putting his feet up on the table next to Faye. He raised his brows in unamused expectation.
"Hmmm," she made a show of assessing his lighter, holding it up as though there was a light to examine it under. "I wouldn't take anything less than 500 woolong."
Spike glared at her through his embarrassment, gritting his teeth. Seeing his expression, Faye laughed and tossed him his lighter. Spike caught it in surprise. //That's it? She isn't going to keep playing with me?\\
They stared at each other for several moments, and Spike almost forgot about the burning itch on his abdomen. Faye's eyes looked enormous in the dark, and Spike could see enough of her to tell that she was looking at him strangely. Her gaze lacked all the scorn and amusement she had harbored against him. Spike almost looked away when he realized that she was looking at him with affection. Plain and simple. It made him more than uncomfortable, but he couldn't say that he wanted her to stop.
// Don't think you have nothing to lose anymore,\\ he could hear the holy woman's voice in his head. //That young woman didn't come here today while on a simple Sunday stroll.\\
Spike smirked. Krai had also told him that Ed was fond of him...//then the little freak bit me.\\
"Does this mean you've forgiven me?" Spike finally ventured after a long silence. He kept an amused tone in his voice so that Faye wouldn't know that he actually cared. But she only smiled and looked away.
"You hungry?" she asked him after more silence. As if on que, Spike's stomach growled.
"Starved." He watched Faye get up from the table and walk away, but he made no move himself. Yet.
"If you hurry," she said over her shoulder, "There might be some wontons left by the time you catch up."
And that was enough incentive for him.
**
Spike followed Faye into the galley, and had barely settled himself on a stool before she placed a steaming bowl of wonton soup before him. Spike wondered if she had originally prepared it for herself, as his appeared to be the last portion. He watched her carry the empty pot to the large sink and fill it with water. She then turned to face him, leaning back against the sink. She wasn't smiling.
"Think of it as a peace offering," she said, crossing her arms, looking down at Spike's feet. "Life is too short for us to spend fighting all the time."
Spike was stunned. There she was, the queen of controversy with the lengthened life span, telling him that life was too short to spend fighting. He didn't think it was possible for he and Faye to hold any type of relationship, regardless of its nature, and not fight. But he didn't say that to her. He found he had no desire to be irksome. At least, not until he had finished his wontons.
"But that's what we do best," he said with a nonchalant sigh, trying to keep the mood light. Faye was still staring at his feet, and he began to feel uncomfortable again. "Don't you want any?" he asked, drawing Faye's attention to the bowl in front of him. "I might be willing to share."
Faye only smirked before moving to open the small fridge. She pulled out a plate of leftovers, which Spike could only describe as looking like green 'schlop'.
"You're not serious," Spike muttered after cooling down a wonton enough to pop it into his mouth. "What is that shit?"
"Beats me," Faye replied, heating it up. "Jet calls it his 'Rare Garlic Rapini."
Spike made gagging sounds, but Faye only shrugged.
"It's not bad, once you get over the bitterness."
"And wash it down with motor oil," Spike snickered, popping another wonton into his mouth. "I hate to admit it, but these could pass as some decent wontons." He wasn't quite willing to admit that he couldn't really remember having better. He would stick with 'decent'.
Faye didn't say anything as she retrieved her plate of food and took a mouthful of the green mess. Spike didn't miss her grimace, and even before that, he didn't miss the hint of sadness that hid behind her eyes. He tried to ignore it, not wanting to bring it up. And so they both sat in silence, eating their meals.
It was some time before Spike realized that Faye was staring at him. When he looked up, she couldn't mask her sadness quickly enough. But again, he said nothing.
"Are you glad that you're back?" she asked him with a slight smile, voice barely above a whisper. Spike immediately looked down at his almost finished bowl of wonton soup. He wasn't hungry anymore. He felt the force behind her question, the parts left unasked. //She wants to know if I'm glad that I'm alive...\\ He didn't know if he could possibly answer that question. Not with the answer she wanted to hear. When he looked up again, she was almost in front of him, half sitting on the galley countertop.
"You never answered my question," he said easily, putting his hands behind his head. He knew that she actually had answered his question of forgiveness; the bowl of wontons was proof enough of that. But he felt the desperate need to avoid her question.
"What question?" she murmured, and Spike held his breath as she moved away from the countertop and stood very close to him. She raised her hand as if to touch his face, but she hesitated. Against his will, Spike lowered a hand from his head and took hold of her hand. The guilty feeling tore through his body and he began to sweat, but he wouldn't stop her. He couldn't.
"I asked if you had forgiven me," he muttered, feeling his face burn again. He suddenly felt very stupid. "I mean, because I made fun of you," he stammered, looking away. //What the hell's wrong with me?\\ "For doting on me. You -"
He was silenced as Faye face came very close to his. Before he realized what was happening, he felt Faye's lips on his. The lightest touch, but he could barely breathe. When he didn't respond, Faye pulled back. Spike couldn't look at her.
"I'll take that as a no," he said with dry humour. It came out harsher than he intended. Faye, still very close to him, stiffened.
"What do you mean?" she demanded, and Spike could hear the anger in her voice.
He tried to act coy, making up for the damage he had just done.
"Kissing someone after eating Jet's Rare Garlic Rapini is the most severe form of cruel and unusual punishment."
Faye's face fell, and Spike immediately regretted his words. It must have sounded as though he was telling her not to kiss him, or that he didn't like it. In truth, Spike had no idea what he wanted at that moment, except that he didn't want to hurt her. Not anymore.
But he had hurt her.
Crestfallen, Faye turned to leave, but Spike caught her arm gently. Like he had in the cathedral basement, he pulled her back to him. He kept his hand on her arm, as if he was afraid she would leave.
"I don't know if I'm glad to be back," he said, trying to answer her question. "I haven't had anything to lose in a long time." Spike swallowed. "Not even -" He couldn't finish the thought. He looked up at Faye and shrugged. "I just don't know."
He was surprised to see Faye nod, smiling sadly. But she didn't say anything, and Spike let her go. He watched her leave.
When she was gone, he placed his elbows on the countertop and rested his head in his hands. He didn't realize how hot he was. The guilty feeling in his stomach was beginning to make him numb. He tried to imagine Julia again, her face, her hair, her voice...anything...But Faye's image washed over it like water, and he felt his mouth go dry.
//When I faced Vicious, I thought I had nothing to lose,\\ Spike thought, beginning to feel exhausted. "She's changing everything," he said aloud, almost bitterly. "THAT woman is changing everything."
**
After only four hours of sleep, Spike awoke with an agonizing dryness in his mouth. When he tried to swallow, it felt as though his tongue was tearing away his palate. He tried to sit up, clutching his throat as if it would ease the pain, but he didn't make it. Spike sank back down onto his sweat soaked sheets.
He was on fire, and the heat seemed to be emanating from his abdomen in all directions. When he tried to place a hand over the bandaged wound, he was greeted by sharp, unbearable pain.
He shifted himself as carefully as he could to the edge of his bed, swinging his legs slowly over the side. When he finally managed to sit up, Spike couldn't suppress a groan. His head pounded and his vision blurred. //What the hell...\\
He dragged himself to his feet, at first using the small table by his bed for support, then the wall. He stood for several moments, just leaning his body against the cool metal. When he began to move, he had to concentrate very hard on placing one foot in front of the other. //Feels like...\\
He stumbled when he reached his door, and it took more strength than he thought he had to keep himself on his feet. //Feels like my brain...\\ His door opened, and he was met with momentary relief as cool air washed over him, but the burning soon took over again. He forced himself to keep moving. //Feels like my brain is falling...//
Inch by inch he made his way to the bathroom, fighting the urge to swallow. //Burns...\\
Spike couldn't remember making it to the bathroom, or entering it. He simply found himself leaning on the sink, using his arms to support his weight. He stared at himself in the mirror, unable to focus on his image, but able to see how red he was. //What...\\. He could feel beads of sweat traveling down his face, down his neck, and down his back. //What the hell's wrong...\\
He couldn't focus on the faucet, and found himself fumbling to turn it on. He lowered himself so that the flow of the water struck him in the face, and for a moment, he felt bliss. He tried to concentrate some of the flow into his mouth, forcing it down his throat, but he couldn't do it without choking.
Spike focused long enough to turn the water off and grab the antiseptic he had left on the counter. He then let himself sink back onto the floor, resting his back against the wall. He sat there for several minutes, breathing hard and wiping sweat from his eyes, before he made to lift his tank top over the bandage on his stomach. He gingerly pulled at the edges of his bandage, trying to remove it as painlessly as possible. //Left it...too long...\\
Closing his eyes and gritting his teeth, he pulled steadily on the bandage until it released his skin. He took several deeps breaths before he ventured to look at his infected wound. When he did look at it, he could hear himself cursing Faye for neglecting him.
The long gash was crimson, standing out like a beacon on his already red skin. The flesh was puckered, and at the slightest touch, would send white flashes of pain dancing across his vision.
//Suck it up,\\ he told himself, lifting the bottle of antiseptic and trying to unscrew the lid. //Not so bad...\\ His hand slipped from the cap, and he had to try again. //Just a fever.\\ The cap finally gave way, and the hand that removed it dropped limply to his side. //Just a bad fever...\\
He didn't know what else to do. Trying to hold the bottle as steadily as possible, Spike poured its entire contents over the length of the gash. He was relieved when it didn't sting, but the pressure of the liquid hitting the infected skin caused more of the searing pain. He watched as the liquid bubbled and foamed along the gash, and then flooded off of his body in white rivulets.
Spike sat against the bathroom wall for what seemed to him as hours. The longer he sat, the hotter he felt, and he found himself nodding off. He had enough sense and enough strength left to lift his back from off the wall and force himself onto his hands and knees. He then crawled painfully slow to the tub, and upon reaching it, allowed himself to tumble in. Shifting to his back, he used his foot to try and turn the cold-water tap on, and water erupted from the large tub faucet. He spent the last of his energy trying to hit the switch that would force the water out of the showerhead and down onto him.
When at last he felt the icy water cascade against him, Spike closed his eyes and lost consciousness.
**
Everything shifted from gray to black, and from the darkness, his recurring nightmare formed.
Spike was trying to level his gun, trying to concentrate on the figure that stood at the top of the stairs. But his vision betrayed him. He couldn't open his one eye, and the other kept blurring.
He fired. Once. Twice. He didn't need his eyes to tell him that he missed. But it didn't matter. Not anymore. With a consuming fury, he found himself rushing up the stairs to meet Vicious head on. The man was ready for him, and Spike could feel every blow he blocked, and every blow that hit its mark.
He said something, but all he could hear was her name tear from his mouth, and it hung in the darkness, as Vicious' reply was nothing but air screaming past his ears.
He lunged forward again, but his limbs felt heavy, and his vision darkened. He tried to pull away, but something within him kept forcing him on. With every blow he bestowed upon Vicious, his vision cleared, but with every blow received, he fell further into darkness.
He wanted the darkness. He would have given in if the weight of his gun hadn't left him, and the flash of Vicious' sword landing at his feet hadn't caught his eye. Spike could barely think, and as he stood facing Vicious, he knew he was going to die. He had known before he left the Bebop, and he accepted it. He accepted it because he had nothing else to lose. Spike never wanted to have anything to lose ever again.
"Let's end it all." His words cut across the silence, echoing into the darkness surrounding them.
"If that is your wish."
Nothing ever prepared him for the voice behind those words. And nothing ever stopped him from tossing Vicious' sword forward.
It was the only time he could see her face anymore, in his dreams. In those few precious moments where he stood facing her, Julia never looked at him. She always looked through him; beyond him at something he could only perceive himself once he seemingly drifted aside, becoming a bystander.
He would then look back to where he had stood, and see Faye standing in his place.
She held his gun aimed steadily at Julia, and Julia held Vicious' sword, ready to strike Faye. Spike would watch in horror, trying to step forward to get between them, but he found that he could only go one way or the other. There was no in between. The closer he came to Faye, he tried to pull towards Julia. The closer he came to Julia, he tried to pull towards Faye. He couldn't save them both.
He had to choose.
**
ARGH again! I need to go bang my head against a wall or something.