Irma watched him sleep, watched his chest rise and fall rhythmically,
watched the moonlight creep over his skin, bathing him in a silver glow. He
was beautiful, more beautiful than anything she'd ever seen, and all she
wanted for the rest of her life was to be allowed to watch him sleep.
But he still kept her ring beside the bed, and she knew that when he dreamed he dreamed of her. Of Faye. She'd admired Faye before, but suddenly she hated the woman, hated her for having scorned what Irma wanted most.
He shifted, turning onto his side, and throwing an arm across her. "Faye…" he muttered, "you came back…"
Irma bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes. She hated that he fucked her while thinking about Faye, and that was the biggest reason why she hated the woman. Not just because she turned away from a life Irma desired, but because John still wanted her. She would never be able to lie here with John forever, that life was denied her, because he still loved Faye. Couldn't she see that John was more beautiful than a thousand supernovae? More beautiful than a nebula in bloom?
She ran a reverent hand down his face. How could Faye have left him?
"How's he doing?" Faye's voice was barely above a whisper as Jet stepped out of Corbin's room.
"He's doing fine," Jet assured her, then narrowed his eyes, "and how about you?
He's just got to worry about sleeping off a good dose of tranqs, you, on the other
hand, have incurred a serious head injury… don't you think you should lie down?"
"Come on Jet, don't you know that lying down is the last thing a person with a head injury should do?"
He shrugged, "it seemed like good advice."
"Uh-huh…" she smiled slightly, then frowned. Corbin was safe now, she was safe, but the threat still remained. What were they going to do about Eve?
"Jet, is it going to be safe to leave him here? I want to go dig that bullet out of the wall, and I'd like you to accompany me… for back up." She suppressed a shiver, "I don't want to take the chance of meeting that red- headed bitch alone. I'm not exactly at the top of my game at the moment."
He nodded, "It should be fine… I mean, it isn't not like he's going to be alone here, there's always Ed… but why on earth do you want the bullet?"
Faye's smile broadened into a devious grin, "I'm gonna find out what makes her tick."
Irma was surprised to find the ship empty. Well, it may not have been empty, but there was no one up and about. She supposed that the Hacker may have been locked in her room, locked into cyber space, but there was no one to challenge her as she walked the hall and approached Corbin's door.
She wasn't sure, really what was driving her, all she knew was that she was hurting. She hurt because John had rejected her. Oh, not directly, he never threw her out, or yelled at her for being in his bed, that would almost have been better. No, he'd been completely civil to her. Completely civil, and completely cold.
She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking of Faye, imagining her body pressed against his.
It was more than she could bear.
She must be in love with John… had to. She had never blamed Faye, not once, for Dimitri's obsession with her. Only love could take the deep admiration she felt for her employer and twist it into bitter envy. Only love could drive her to do what she was about to do. Faye's memory had destroyed her chance at happiness, and suddenly, she wanted to return the favor.
He was spinning out of control. A carousel. Flashing lights, music, mirrors, and of course, painted animals, spinning. He heard the carnival sounds, and fought the urge to vomit as the scent of buttered popcorn and cotton candy reached his nose. He began to walk, on this twirling disk, examining the animals. A few were real, like a majestic lion, frozen mid- roar, and a long necked giraffe, but most were fictional, a unicorn, a winged zebra, a magnificent oriental dragon, whose blood red scales glistened like jewels in a fire.
"Have a seat." Disembodied voice on a loudspeaker, probably the conductor. Seemed familiar for some reason. Deep and raspy, it made Corbin wish he'd remembered to bring a jacket.
And of course, there was one right there, draped over the dragon. A green jacket, worn in at the elbows, but promising warmth. How had he missed it before?
"Have a seat," came the voice again.
Corbin shivered, and took the last few unsteady steps to the dragon, pulling on the jacket before straddling the wooden beast. He felt better, much warmer, much more himself.
He turned to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and was shocked by what he saw. Now he knew where he'd heard the conductors voice before.
"You aren't me." He said blankly. It looked like him, it was almost identical, but the man in the mirror… he held his head a little lower, bent with anguish, and he looked so much more tired than Corbin ever had. And his eyes, Corbin caught his breath as he looked into those eyes, there was a need for release there, a longing to die.
This was Spike.
"I am not you," he said, with a cruel smile, "but you aren't me, either."
"A suicidal maniac? A cowboy with a death wish? Thank god for that!" Corbin bit out, a bit too harshly.
"Maybe that is something to be thankful for, and maybe it isn't… chicks dig the 'suffering with inner torment' type." Spike gave him a meaningful look, "especially Faye."
Corbin snorted, rolling his eyes in a 'why should I care,' manner.
Spike only smiled cryptically, and got up form the mirror dragon. He started toward Corbin, stepping through the glass as if it were water.
"You're a substitute," he said, drawing nearer, and pulling out a cigarette. "When she looks at you, I'm what she sees." He stopped when he was directly in front of Corbin, lighting the white tube, and inhaling deeply. Corbin shuddered, he could feel the smoke in his lungs. "When she touches you, I'm what she's reaching for," Spike said, on the exhale. Then he leaned over, whispering in Corbin's ear. "When she fucks you…"
That was it. He'd heard enough. Corbin threw his fist directly into Spike's face, sending his covers flying.
The carnival was gone, but Spike's mocking face lingered in the air for a moment, like a puff of smoke, before vanishing all together. Corbin sat up, more than a little disturbed by the dream, but immediately laid back down. The carousel may have been gone, but the room was still spinning.
He took a deep breath to steady himself, but was reluctant to close his eyes again. The dream had disturbed him. I mean, why had he had a dream like that, such a pointless dream. And the idea of him and Faye? Really it was absurd. Why would he even feel the need to warn himself off? He needed no dream visits from dead look-alikes to tell him that she saw Spike whenever she looked at him, and hated him for the pain it caused her… well, maybe not hate, but she definitely disliked him.
And his feelings for her? Hard to like someone who dislikes you so intensely.
He growled, and shoved the covers off, sitting up only with great effort. Why was it so hard for him to focus this morning? He must have really been drunk last night…
Last night. Faye pressed against him on a dance floor. The sound of familiar foot-steps. Eve's scent. Faye, eyes rolled back into her head, sliding down a brick wall. A trail of blood.
He shuddered. Each image came in such quick succession it like a series of gut-shots. The last was the final blow. A hay-maker. He felt his heart leap up into his throat, and was filled with a burning desire to see if Faye was alright. He stood, on liquid legs, then double over, as nausea overcame him.
God, he must have been unconscious for some time, because nothing came out when he gagged. Good thing too, because wouldn't Faye be pissed if she found out he'd ruined the carpets. He smirked, and straightened, realizing for the first time that he was truly back in Faye's guest room on the Shadow Wolf. That had to be a good sign.
He was about to open the door, when it slid open on its own, admitting a short, blurry, dark haired object. Irma. She must have finished the little errand that Faye had sent her on.
He sighed with relief, and lowered himself to the floor.
"Boy, am I glad you're here. Now I don't have to wander around this tub trying to find Faye, I can just ask you."
"Ask me what?" she replied, sitting down next to him.
Her face was going in and out of focus, and his head was starting to pound, but he was almost positive he felt her hand trailing up his thigh. He shook his head to clear his vision, "how Faye's doing."
Now she was leaning over him, and her hand had moved to his zipper. Her lips hovered over his for a moment. He knew what was happening, and a part of his mind screamed for him to stop it. "who cares?" she asked, then quickly smothered any reply with her mouth. He had a flash of guilt, accompanied by Faye's face, then he had a second flash, this one of a mocking face… his own. His vision was suddenly crystal clear, he wanted to forget Faye even existed. He put his hand behind her head, her hair wrapped around his fingers like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver.
He was vaguely aware of his pants being shoved down, and the delicious feeling of flesh on flesh.
Too late to stop now.
She didn't feel vindicated. She didn't feel whole. She felt cheep. She felt guilty.
Irma thought that she would feel better once she'd had Corbin… once she'd taken something from Faye, but it had backfired. Now she felt worse than ever. Faye never did anything to hurt her intentionally. Never. She'd even taken her in, and given her work when she was left homeless and jobless after the whole Dimitri thing. She didn't deserve a friend like that. She wanted to erase the last three days. She felt completely helpless.
She turned her head to cry.
"I won't tell if you won't," came Corbin's bitter voice from behind her.
She nodded wordlessly, and began to sob.
They weren't together. They didn't even like each other.
Then why did he feel so god damned guilty?
He placed his head on the cool surface of the kitchen table, like it was an executioner's block. He almost wished it was. Self-loathing was a bitch.
He pulled his head off the table, and lit a cigarette, sucking the red filter for a sweet nicotine-induced calm. The cigarette was a funny thing. It tasted terrible, and it stunk, but it was amazing how one got to crave it once one got used to it. You start out sorta hating the flavor, but then, out of nowhere, you realize that nothing in the universe tastes sweeter than smoke between your lips.
He took another drag. Love-hate relationship with cigarettes. Love-hate relationship with Faye.
She really was like a cigarette… likely to cause cancer.
"I'll take one of those," Irma intoned from behind him. She sounded as shitty as he felt.
"I thought you didn't smoke." He tossed one over his shoulder, not sparing her a glance.
She dropped herself into a chair across from him. Her hair was damp, and unbrushed, Corbin noted. She must have just gotten out of the shower. "I seem to be picking up a lot of bad habits from Faye," she replied glumly.
"Really?" Corbin asked faking shock. "That's funny, because I was just thinking how Faye was like a bad habit herself."
"What am I like?" came Faye's silk smooth tones from the door.
Corbin almost ate his cigarette. He cursed himself for not listening more carefully.
"Do you really want me to answer that?" he asked.
She paused to consider, "no, not really, the last thing I need is to hear your thoughts on me."
He gave her a devilish grin, "they might be more interesting than you think."
Faye rolled her eyes, "aren't you the least bit interested in how we got back here?"
"I was drugged, and you were knocked silly right before I lost consciousness, so I'm guessing Jet bailed our butts out."
"Right-o," Jet said, pushing past Faye, and into the kitchen. He dropped a small metallic object onto the table in front of Corbin.
"A bullet?" Corbin asked, "what's that for?"
"I sent this through Eve's shoulder," Jet answered, a hint of pride in his voice.
"While you were sleeping, we went back, and dug it out of the wall to get it analyzed." Faye stepped forward, tossing a report onto the table, next to the bullet. She placed both palms on the flat surface, and leaned forward. "There's something you should know about Eve… and we're going to need a blood sample."
But he still kept her ring beside the bed, and she knew that when he dreamed he dreamed of her. Of Faye. She'd admired Faye before, but suddenly she hated the woman, hated her for having scorned what Irma wanted most.
He shifted, turning onto his side, and throwing an arm across her. "Faye…" he muttered, "you came back…"
Irma bit her lip, tears stinging her eyes. She hated that he fucked her while thinking about Faye, and that was the biggest reason why she hated the woman. Not just because she turned away from a life Irma desired, but because John still wanted her. She would never be able to lie here with John forever, that life was denied her, because he still loved Faye. Couldn't she see that John was more beautiful than a thousand supernovae? More beautiful than a nebula in bloom?
She ran a reverent hand down his face. How could Faye have left him?
"How's he doing?" Faye's voice was barely above a whisper as Jet stepped out of Corbin's room.
"He's doing fine," Jet assured her, then narrowed his eyes, "and how about you?
He's just got to worry about sleeping off a good dose of tranqs, you, on the other
hand, have incurred a serious head injury… don't you think you should lie down?"
"Come on Jet, don't you know that lying down is the last thing a person with a head injury should do?"
He shrugged, "it seemed like good advice."
"Uh-huh…" she smiled slightly, then frowned. Corbin was safe now, she was safe, but the threat still remained. What were they going to do about Eve?
"Jet, is it going to be safe to leave him here? I want to go dig that bullet out of the wall, and I'd like you to accompany me… for back up." She suppressed a shiver, "I don't want to take the chance of meeting that red- headed bitch alone. I'm not exactly at the top of my game at the moment."
He nodded, "It should be fine… I mean, it isn't not like he's going to be alone here, there's always Ed… but why on earth do you want the bullet?"
Faye's smile broadened into a devious grin, "I'm gonna find out what makes her tick."
Irma was surprised to find the ship empty. Well, it may not have been empty, but there was no one up and about. She supposed that the Hacker may have been locked in her room, locked into cyber space, but there was no one to challenge her as she walked the hall and approached Corbin's door.
She wasn't sure, really what was driving her, all she knew was that she was hurting. She hurt because John had rejected her. Oh, not directly, he never threw her out, or yelled at her for being in his bed, that would almost have been better. No, he'd been completely civil to her. Completely civil, and completely cold.
She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was thinking of Faye, imagining her body pressed against his.
It was more than she could bear.
She must be in love with John… had to. She had never blamed Faye, not once, for Dimitri's obsession with her. Only love could take the deep admiration she felt for her employer and twist it into bitter envy. Only love could drive her to do what she was about to do. Faye's memory had destroyed her chance at happiness, and suddenly, she wanted to return the favor.
He was spinning out of control. A carousel. Flashing lights, music, mirrors, and of course, painted animals, spinning. He heard the carnival sounds, and fought the urge to vomit as the scent of buttered popcorn and cotton candy reached his nose. He began to walk, on this twirling disk, examining the animals. A few were real, like a majestic lion, frozen mid- roar, and a long necked giraffe, but most were fictional, a unicorn, a winged zebra, a magnificent oriental dragon, whose blood red scales glistened like jewels in a fire.
"Have a seat." Disembodied voice on a loudspeaker, probably the conductor. Seemed familiar for some reason. Deep and raspy, it made Corbin wish he'd remembered to bring a jacket.
And of course, there was one right there, draped over the dragon. A green jacket, worn in at the elbows, but promising warmth. How had he missed it before?
"Have a seat," came the voice again.
Corbin shivered, and took the last few unsteady steps to the dragon, pulling on the jacket before straddling the wooden beast. He felt better, much warmer, much more himself.
He turned to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror and was shocked by what he saw. Now he knew where he'd heard the conductors voice before.
"You aren't me." He said blankly. It looked like him, it was almost identical, but the man in the mirror… he held his head a little lower, bent with anguish, and he looked so much more tired than Corbin ever had. And his eyes, Corbin caught his breath as he looked into those eyes, there was a need for release there, a longing to die.
This was Spike.
"I am not you," he said, with a cruel smile, "but you aren't me, either."
"A suicidal maniac? A cowboy with a death wish? Thank god for that!" Corbin bit out, a bit too harshly.
"Maybe that is something to be thankful for, and maybe it isn't… chicks dig the 'suffering with inner torment' type." Spike gave him a meaningful look, "especially Faye."
Corbin snorted, rolling his eyes in a 'why should I care,' manner.
Spike only smiled cryptically, and got up form the mirror dragon. He started toward Corbin, stepping through the glass as if it were water.
"You're a substitute," he said, drawing nearer, and pulling out a cigarette. "When she looks at you, I'm what she sees." He stopped when he was directly in front of Corbin, lighting the white tube, and inhaling deeply. Corbin shuddered, he could feel the smoke in his lungs. "When she touches you, I'm what she's reaching for," Spike said, on the exhale. Then he leaned over, whispering in Corbin's ear. "When she fucks you…"
That was it. He'd heard enough. Corbin threw his fist directly into Spike's face, sending his covers flying.
The carnival was gone, but Spike's mocking face lingered in the air for a moment, like a puff of smoke, before vanishing all together. Corbin sat up, more than a little disturbed by the dream, but immediately laid back down. The carousel may have been gone, but the room was still spinning.
He took a deep breath to steady himself, but was reluctant to close his eyes again. The dream had disturbed him. I mean, why had he had a dream like that, such a pointless dream. And the idea of him and Faye? Really it was absurd. Why would he even feel the need to warn himself off? He needed no dream visits from dead look-alikes to tell him that she saw Spike whenever she looked at him, and hated him for the pain it caused her… well, maybe not hate, but she definitely disliked him.
And his feelings for her? Hard to like someone who dislikes you so intensely.
He growled, and shoved the covers off, sitting up only with great effort. Why was it so hard for him to focus this morning? He must have really been drunk last night…
Last night. Faye pressed against him on a dance floor. The sound of familiar foot-steps. Eve's scent. Faye, eyes rolled back into her head, sliding down a brick wall. A trail of blood.
He shuddered. Each image came in such quick succession it like a series of gut-shots. The last was the final blow. A hay-maker. He felt his heart leap up into his throat, and was filled with a burning desire to see if Faye was alright. He stood, on liquid legs, then double over, as nausea overcame him.
God, he must have been unconscious for some time, because nothing came out when he gagged. Good thing too, because wouldn't Faye be pissed if she found out he'd ruined the carpets. He smirked, and straightened, realizing for the first time that he was truly back in Faye's guest room on the Shadow Wolf. That had to be a good sign.
He was about to open the door, when it slid open on its own, admitting a short, blurry, dark haired object. Irma. She must have finished the little errand that Faye had sent her on.
He sighed with relief, and lowered himself to the floor.
"Boy, am I glad you're here. Now I don't have to wander around this tub trying to find Faye, I can just ask you."
"Ask me what?" she replied, sitting down next to him.
Her face was going in and out of focus, and his head was starting to pound, but he was almost positive he felt her hand trailing up his thigh. He shook his head to clear his vision, "how Faye's doing."
Now she was leaning over him, and her hand had moved to his zipper. Her lips hovered over his for a moment. He knew what was happening, and a part of his mind screamed for him to stop it. "who cares?" she asked, then quickly smothered any reply with her mouth. He had a flash of guilt, accompanied by Faye's face, then he had a second flash, this one of a mocking face… his own. His vision was suddenly crystal clear, he wanted to forget Faye even existed. He put his hand behind her head, her hair wrapped around his fingers like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver.
He was vaguely aware of his pants being shoved down, and the delicious feeling of flesh on flesh.
Too late to stop now.
She didn't feel vindicated. She didn't feel whole. She felt cheep. She felt guilty.
Irma thought that she would feel better once she'd had Corbin… once she'd taken something from Faye, but it had backfired. Now she felt worse than ever. Faye never did anything to hurt her intentionally. Never. She'd even taken her in, and given her work when she was left homeless and jobless after the whole Dimitri thing. She didn't deserve a friend like that. She wanted to erase the last three days. She felt completely helpless.
She turned her head to cry.
"I won't tell if you won't," came Corbin's bitter voice from behind her.
She nodded wordlessly, and began to sob.
They weren't together. They didn't even like each other.
Then why did he feel so god damned guilty?
He placed his head on the cool surface of the kitchen table, like it was an executioner's block. He almost wished it was. Self-loathing was a bitch.
He pulled his head off the table, and lit a cigarette, sucking the red filter for a sweet nicotine-induced calm. The cigarette was a funny thing. It tasted terrible, and it stunk, but it was amazing how one got to crave it once one got used to it. You start out sorta hating the flavor, but then, out of nowhere, you realize that nothing in the universe tastes sweeter than smoke between your lips.
He took another drag. Love-hate relationship with cigarettes. Love-hate relationship with Faye.
She really was like a cigarette… likely to cause cancer.
"I'll take one of those," Irma intoned from behind him. She sounded as shitty as he felt.
"I thought you didn't smoke." He tossed one over his shoulder, not sparing her a glance.
She dropped herself into a chair across from him. Her hair was damp, and unbrushed, Corbin noted. She must have just gotten out of the shower. "I seem to be picking up a lot of bad habits from Faye," she replied glumly.
"Really?" Corbin asked faking shock. "That's funny, because I was just thinking how Faye was like a bad habit herself."
"What am I like?" came Faye's silk smooth tones from the door.
Corbin almost ate his cigarette. He cursed himself for not listening more carefully.
"Do you really want me to answer that?" he asked.
She paused to consider, "no, not really, the last thing I need is to hear your thoughts on me."
He gave her a devilish grin, "they might be more interesting than you think."
Faye rolled her eyes, "aren't you the least bit interested in how we got back here?"
"I was drugged, and you were knocked silly right before I lost consciousness, so I'm guessing Jet bailed our butts out."
"Right-o," Jet said, pushing past Faye, and into the kitchen. He dropped a small metallic object onto the table in front of Corbin.
"A bullet?" Corbin asked, "what's that for?"
"I sent this through Eve's shoulder," Jet answered, a hint of pride in his voice.
"While you were sleeping, we went back, and dug it out of the wall to get it analyzed." Faye stepped forward, tossing a report onto the table, next to the bullet. She placed both palms on the flat surface, and leaned forward. "There's something you should know about Eve… and we're going to need a blood sample."
