Okay…if my computer eats this file again, there will be no sap! Got that, computer! No sap whatsoever! And everyone will blame you. That's right. Now let's get this going on before she freaks out and freezes randomly eating my super well done chapter AGAIN!!! Gah. Not that I'm bitter…but if I was.
*****
One More Try
Part 16
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"I'm in love with you." In that moment, I felt as though time slowed down and everything stretched out, becoming somehow more real and less defined all at the same time. Things like the bright hum of the white room blurred into the background, while the shape of Spike's face, the angle of his neck tilted slightly to one side, the way his arms were in his lap, hands clasped together in a seemingly casual gesture belied by his white knuckles, and the way his lips formed each word, his Adam's apple bobbing as he spoke…these things were thrown into sharp relief. I could feel the weight of the baby on my slightly swollen chest; I could feel a knot tying in my stomach tightly as my throat stubbornly closed, as though trying to block the words from entering me. But they were like a wave of warmth hitting me and soaking into me and then it was too hot and I was burning up and why couldn't I breathe or blink or speak or move? An adorable noise distracted me, my son yawning and stretching in his tight swaddling, completely unaware of the gravity of the situation. Did he realize the importance of the events that were taking place? We could be in the process of deciding his entire future, but he only seemed to care about that constant fatigue that newborns experience for a few days after birth.
"He's sleepy." My lips were dry and my voice fell off, unable to carry the gravity that his had managed so easily only moments earlier. I turned my face down as my vision blurred, and I knew there were tears, but I couldn't let them fall, not where Spike could see. I couldn't let him beat me so easily. I had known only days ago that this was all an illusion. He loved the baby boy in my arms; that was true. He could never love me. He could never…
Well, that wasn't entirely true. There were two Spikes that I knew. The one that most people knew was something perfect and amazing and cool and so irresistible, and he knew it. He was maddeningly confident and assured and he only loved someone as ephemeral and perfect as himself. He didn't love people who made mistakes or woke up with their hair in a mess and their mascara smeared. The woman he loved would have to be someone who did everything effortlessly and perfectly and without regrets and in a way that made you wish you were her. The woman he loved would wake up ready for the day with no problems and no past, at least none that she would ever mention or linger over. The woman he loved was Julia. And when she was gone, as all things so beautiful and perfect were doomed to die in the peak of their enviable existence so that you never stopped coveting that life and that aloof grandeur…when she died, he would just smoke his cigarette in a dark room, drink a shot for her and move on like nothing had happened. Because he had no past, and when love died, it died all the way, without scars or pain or anything of the sort.
The Spike that was harder to find was the one inside of that shell that I called Cool Spike. Inside, there was a real person who made mistakes and said stupid things and felt remorse and regretted his past mistakes and cried when love died and left him all alone and cold as the first winter frost. He wasn't perfect, and he couldn't control his emotions very well, and he was more of a little boy looking for someone to tell him everything was all right than anything else. He was true and gritty and full of pain and dreams and loss and hope and every other emotion and vice and virtue that anyone could ever think of, and then some. He was selfish at times, but he depended on others and he couldn't let them go any more than he could bury his past as deeply as he wanted. He ate children's cereal and picked out all the blue marshmallows while watching cartoons with the dog he would never admit to petting while sharing the couch with him. He had a hard time matching colors effectively, so he only wore a very few outfits that had proven tried and true and comfortable over the years, and he kept a picture of his dead lover in his underwear drawer next to his gun like some sort of reminder of everything bad and good that he had ever done. He missed his mother still and wished he'd known his father better, and he still wondered if there was any way to save his soul and if he should risk his heart on anything else after all that had gone wrong so far. He smiled like a dope when he held his baby, and he had absolutely no idea what to make of a woman that honestly knew him inside and out better than any other person ever had in his entire life. Was she his friend, his partner, his lover, or was she just a weakness?
I could count the number of times I'd encountered the real Spike on both hands without running out of fingers, but the fact remained that I had been allowed past Cool Spike more than any other person he had admitted to knowing.
You see my eyes? One's a fake because I lost it in an accident and had to get it replaced.
And when he makes his appearance, you know it. The first time I saw the real Spike, I thought I'd eaten something drugged to be able to imagine so much emotion and conflict dwelling within the man who, I had thought, could feel nothing and cared for no one.
I didn't mean that I didn't want you to do it. I was just saying you shouldn't feel like you're forced to.
This other Spike cared about people, and he had his faults that could be exploited just like any other person. There were half-healed wounds and weak spots all over his soul, but I wasn't interested in hurting the man that was hidden from most of the world.
Don't try to talk now…scared us shitless…
No, I couldn't hurt someone who obviously valued me after I'd thought no one ever would. I couldn't kill my link with the man inside the shell, the man that had drawn me to him from the start, trying everything I could to get glimpses, the tiniest, most dreamlike moments where he was someone else.
I wouldn't have hurt you, I swear.
And in those moments I was just as weak as he was. Maybe more so. I didn't think that I was normally as guarded as Spike was, but I was defenseless when he used the deadliest weapon he had on me. Sincerity.
We all care about you, you know. It's not because you have a pretty face.
When he was honest, his sweetness was easily a hundred times stronger than any angry insults he'd ever flung at me. It took a lot for Cool Spike to get me to actually cry, but Real Spike…
You have to know that whatever else there is to deal with, I want to be there with you.
He had me in a few heartfelt words, a vague admission of emotions was enough for my entire soul to melt and he controlled everything I felt and did, or so it seemed. How could that possibly be fair? How could that be right?
We just can't get along.
Then why are you in love with me?
I don't really know. It's how I feel about you. It doesn't have to make sense.
And the way he was staring at me was so true, so sincere, so bare and honest and utterly vulnerable, I knew I didn't have a chance against him. And with the baby there…
It's weird. Doesn't it feel like we're a family?
The baby…was it that? Was that what he really loved? Not me or my quirks or all my endless mistakes and faults and vices and shortfalls?
No matter how much I love that kid, you're something entirely different.
And I'm in love with you.
Oh yes…that's what he said, wasn't it? My brain seemed to be taking an unbelievably long time to process all this, and I still couldn't decide what I was supposed to do about any of it. But he was looking at me. And I could see it there, in his eyes. He really did care about me, maybe he even loved me, baby or no. The way only the real Spike, who was rarely allowed to see the world, could. Cool Spike might think I'm good for a lay…but there was no way he'd love me.
"No." I didn't even realize I'd said it until the hazy look in Spike's eyes dissipated and hardened. He looked…injured?
"What do you mean, no?" he asked after a long silence.
"I mean…it's not real, is it? If it's only the real you that cares about me and not the rest of you…it's not really love then, is it?" I wanted to know. I don't think he realized that it wasn't a rhetorical question. I was unsure about everything at that moment.
"You don't make sense." His voice lost some of the warmth and reality it had carried. He was pulling away, protecting himself, hiding under his covers like a little boy running from the monster under his bed. "If the real me loves you how much more real can it get? Who cares what I am for other people? I'm showing you this. What else do you want?"
"What else do I want?" I was incredulous. How could he even ask something like that? "I'm in love with you, Spike. I'm really in love with you. I don't fake it and I can't turn it off when I want and I can't bury it when I don't want anyone else to see. Everyone can tell, Spike! It's pathetic, because you won't give me anything in return and it's killing me."
"I just said I love you!" Spike was utterly bewildered, but how could he understand something that was so closely tied to emotions. To the heart. To reality. He hid from that everyday, and it was like it didn't exist to him anymore.
"You said that, but what you mean is that you love me sometimes. I don't want some half-ass commitment from you because the baby's making you feel all paternal and shit. I don't want you to give me a piece of you when I never have a chance at the rest. I want it all, Spike. That's what I want, and until you can give me that, I don't want to hear anything less from you." I surmised. There was a long silence, and I thought he was going to leave. I busied myself with the baby, stroking it's hair and feeling the softness of it's face under my fingers.
"You know what?" he spoke up, and I was so surprised I let out a sort of yelp that startled the baby slightly before it yawned and went back to sleep. "You don't know everything about me."
"Don't I?" I rolled my eyes. I had no time for his moping.
"Let me tell you something right now." He was still in that chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. I couldn't see his face, and that worried me, but he continued to speak in that steady, determined tone. "That time you said my coffee was too weak? I couldn't stand it at first how strong you wanted it, but I drank it so that you'd be satisfied. And when you wanted some cheese three months ago, I went to six different towns before I found a store that sold anything I knew you'd eat. And you always like a fresh towel when you shower, so I bought a new set after you'd been on the Bebop for a month. And when you pull out my stitches you hold your breath like you're worried about me. And you hate being on back up, but I hate it even worse to send you ahead when I know something could happen. And when you pet my hair, I always think it feels like home and that I never want to leave, but if I say anything you'll know and you'll be gone. And you really can fix me, you know? You have already, so much more than you know. And after Vicious, I would have stayed away, but you were so worried, and it made me feel so good to know you cared. And sometimes I wait for you to take a shower so I can yell at you in there, even though I don't really need the bathroom. I just like your voice when it's angry. And I hate it when you cry, but I love that you let me see it, even just sometimes. And I don't mean to hide from you but there's just…don't you know? Don't you know how scary it is to love someone so much you think that if you lose them, you'll die? That's the real thing. That's me, on every side and everyone knows it, too. Didn't you know that? Jet's known for so long it's ridiculous. Everyone that sees us thinks we're together, and it's not the baby. It's the way we look at each other and we know…we know this is right and this is real and I'm sorry, Faye. I tried to forget that it could be good because I was so afraid of all the bad and it was stupid of me. But I do love you. I do."
What do you say after something like that? What can you say?
"I love you too." Seemed fitting, though a bit cliché. Oh well, not like anyone but the baby could hear us and he was a little young to mock our sappiness. Shifting my arms slightly, I moved my right hand over to touch the still downcast head of hair that was waiting for me there. Closing my eyes, I burrowed my fingers into the fluffy warmth of Spike's hair, and I heard him let out a deep breath he must have been holding ever since he finished talking. And he was right.
It did feel like home.
Like family.
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"Give me that thing. You're banned from the name book." I told him as I snatched the dog-eared volume from Spike's grasp he was flipping through on the edge of my bed, his legs hanging off the side while he tried to get the book back. The nurses had just left to take the baby's handprints, footprints, and put it down for a nap. I missed him a little, but it was a good time to get down to the business of naming. Spike and I hadn't even gotten to boy names, and so of course, it was a boy. Fate was cruel.
"I don't see what's wrong with my names." He wanted to know. "I didn't want to name him Carter."
"Carter's a very good name." I defended. "What about…Andrew?"
"Dorky." He shot it down immediately. "What about this? We both write down ten names we like, and then give them to each other. Then we both pick the best from each list and decide from those."
"What if I don't like any of your ten?" I wanted to know.
"Too bad, you still have to pick the best one." Spike shook off my protest. "It's a compromise Faye, get it straight."
"Okay, but then how do we pick? You'll want your name and I'll want mine." I pointed out the problem that we'd been having all evening.
"Rock paper scissors for the winner if we can't agree." Spike suggested. "And the loser can be the baby's middle name. Fair?"
"That's actually…a pretty good plan." I smiled in surprise. I liked it when Spike was reasonable; it was so much better than usual. "Okay, let's do it." It was the work of a few moments to get pencil and paper for both of us, but after that, the list making got messy. It took almost half an hour of cursing and stealing the book from each other, scribbling out one name and then another as we realized that any of the names on the list could be the baby's actual name, and I think we were both suspicious that our least favorite choices would be the one name that the other picked. So we were really careful to make certain that we would be happy with all the names on the list, as we couldn't be sure which one would end up as the final nominee. Despite that, it was a really good plan to make sure that we both got a fair say in the naming and that in the end, if we didn't pick between two, we could just solve it with a simple game.
I knew that there had to be a good reason I was in love with Spike.
Of course, thinking that only made me blush furiously as I remembered everything that had happened after Ed and Jet's visit that morning. Spike seemed to have taken my initial doubt as some sort of challenge, and he hadn't left the hospital all day, staying in my room except to use the bathroom and get something to eat in the nasty hospital cafeteria. Now if that isn't love, I don't know what is.
"What are you thinking about?" Spike was looking at me, and that only made me blush worse. He smiled in the most infuriatingly smug way, as he obviously had figured out what my problem was and only thought it was funny. Leaning toward me, he scooted a little further up on the bed and braced himself with one hand on the other side of my body so that he could lean down to kiss my forehead in an almost chaste fashion. Moving to the side, he edged his hand up over my stomach, taking in the curve as he smiled at me cheekily. "You're still fat, I see."
"Smart ass." I rolled my eyes and shoved him away. Just because things were all…out in the open, that didn't mean I'd just play doormat, and I think he was trying to tell me the same thing. It was nice to know. Some things would change, but we were still us, when it came down to it. And that's how I wanted it, really. "What'd you think, I'd deflate like a balloon? It'll take a while to get back in shape now."
"Good. I don't work with fat women." Spike told me, and even though I wanted to smack him upside the head, I gathered that it was his roundabout way of saying that he didn't want me jumping straight into work after I got out of the hospital. After all, I had just given birth. It made sense in a stupid, male, overprotective way.
"I don't work with self-centered men." I countered, sticking out my tongue quickly. "But since we have no choice, we'll just have to deal."
"Okay…you done with your list?" he asked me, handing me his and taking the slip of paper I'd finished with away. "Time for naming. We can talk about your weight problem later."
"Don't make me kick your ass off my bed, asshole." I threatened idly as I scanned his list and worried the end of my pencil with my lips, trying to decide on the best name. Not all of them were as horrible as I expected, and I was actually stuck between three that I considered pretty…good. Spike seemed to be going through a similar ordeal, but after some time he crumpled the paper and looked at me expectantly. I nodded and made my final decision.
"Okay…some of them were stupid, but Alexander seems okay." He told me. I was surprised. I thought for sure he wouldn't want anything so long. "We could just call him Alex." Oh, I should have seen that one coming. Not that I minded the nickname thing. It made sense, and it was inevitable that someone would shorten the kid's name at some point.
"Fine, as long as the certificate says Alexander." I allowed. He was staring at me expectantly, so I looked back down at the list and bit my lip. "Okay…um, I think Tyler's a good name…I could work with that."
"We could call him Ty." Spike pointed out, grinning in ridiculous smugness.
"Whatever. So are we battling this one out?" I wanted to know. I definitely liked Alex better than Ty.
"I think so. Rock paper scissors. If I win, it's Ty." Spike looked as serious as though he was explaining a battle plan.
"Tyler." I corrected. "And if I win, it's Alexander." We were staring at each other, both of us refusing to blink, intense determination all over our faces. "Ready?" I held out my fist.
"Rock, paper, scissors!" We both exclaimed in overly loud voices, letting our hands take their final shape. I squealed excitedly when I saw that Spike was a rock, and I covered his hand with my "paper."
"I win!" I clutched his hand firmly. "Paper beats rock!"
"It's still a good name." He allowed after a brief mope of defeat. "You think?"
"Alexander Tyler…" I trailed off there. I realized that the baby would have my last name, and somehow it seemed strange.
"What? Does it sound weird? I thought it was fine." Spike was still all concern for the name, so he hadn't quite caught onto the reason I stopped halfway.
"Valentine." I finished quietly. "It's kinda weird, you know?"
"What?" he asked me.
"I like it better with your name." I spoke softly, fiddling with the fold of hospital blanket bunched up under my breasts. "Weird, huh?" He didn't say anything, and I wondered if he'd heard, but when he tilted my chin up to kiss me on the lips, I knew that he understood. It was strange, knowing that Spike understood me. It was like all the false barriers we'd hidden behind before were gone. We weren't by any means thinking in the same way, but we understood each other a lot better now. It was easier. There was less to worry about. Things were simpler and complicated all at once. I think that's what love is.
And that kiss, it was so sweet.
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The End (Of Part 16, That Is)