Disclaimer: Dittos on disclaimers chapter one, two, three, four and five.
Silk on Steel
Six: Tinted Mirrors
Faye was still clinging to her room, curled on the bed, when the sound of the bay doors clanged open far across the Bebop. She had not strayed far from it since yesterday . . . yesterday, when he went away like that. She didn't move when she heard a quite obviously crabby Jet dragging a squealing Ed into the Bebop. She didn't move when they came closer. Jet didn't seem to be aware of the current absence on the ship.
"Three friggin' days, you little brat! Three days chasin' around after you! Do you understand me?!?"
"Ed write in note not come after!" the redhead yelped, which was now accented with a little canine-ish bark. "See? Ein say so!"
"Oh, puh-lease! Like I'm just supposed to let you loose on the solar system??? Sorry, missy, but you're still Radical Edward, and besides of which, a kid!"
Faye did not call out to them. She did not want them to find her here.
But apparently, Jet didn't see it that way.
"Faye? Where the hell are you?"
She didn't answer. What was the use in speaking if you had nothing left to say?
"C'mon!" the frustrated ex-cop's voice echoed through the Bebop. "Faye? Spike? Where the hell is everyone?"
Suddenly, the door to her room burst open. An aggravated Jet Black face peeped through the gap, followed by a tan, redheaded face.
"There you are!" he belted. "What's going on here? Where's Sp-"
One look at her tearstained face made his expression change. In an instant, he let the squirrelly adolescent go, tearing down the hall towards Spike's room. It didn't take long for more dialogue to transpire.
"Alright!" his big heavy boots stomping quickly back to the room where a woman, a girl and a dog all watched, confused. "Where the hell is he?"
Faye sighed and spoke softly to Ed.
"You wanna run off to your room, Eddie."
"Ed in trouble?" the girl asked nervously "Well, I imagine so," she smiled halfheartedly. "But not for now. Me and Jet-man have a lot to talk about."
For once in her life, Ed did not ask questions, but picked up the puzzled Corgi from his lying place and slunk back to her own room, shutting the door on the two glaring adults.
"Explain," Jet commanded curtly, pulling up the chair from her dressing table, "From the beginning."
For nearly fifteen minutes, the door of that room stayed closed. During that time, Faye proceeded to describe a very edited (namely, cutting the part where she crawled into his bed) version of the events of the past few days. According to her, Spike had stayed locked in his room for the first day. He emerged when enticed by Faye's teary pleas and his own forlornness, spending an evening watching movies and having deep conversations. Finally, leaving for Mars and Vicious on the second morning after an emotional fight and a heartfelt goodbye, a kiss. At no time did Jet's voice raise to an abnormal level, although he was apt to sigh deeply and take his head in his hand. A few grumbles emitted from under his breath, but he let her go on until she was finished.
"And let me guess," he said at the end. "He kisses you, and you let him go . . . right?"
"Right," she admitted.
There was a long, deep silence.
"So . . . that's that, I suppose."
Faye looked up at him, shock and surprise in her eyes. "That's that?"
"Of course it is," he answered. "By this time, we wouldn't be able to catch up with him if we tried. Nothing to do now but wait."
She looked skeptical. Somehow, it did not seem like a reasonable answer.
"C'mon," he said, leading her out of the room, his hand on her shoulder. "He's a grown man, not a child. He can make his own decisions. We wait. Until then, no use moping in here. I won't allow it."
"Sure," she muttered, following him to the T.V room. There was no use fighting when there was no win. Ed was already out of her room, carefully avoiding Jet's eye as she tried to teach Ein to be a circus lion, her being the lord ringmaster. Faye yawned, brushing her hair with one arm and flipping through the channels as she lounged on the dingy yellow couch. Jet was in the kitchen, fixing two bowls of corn cereal with fruit for Faye and himself, a large bowl of sugar cereal for Ed, and even a cold sausage for Ein. "Can Ed . . . um . . . maybe watch cartoon?" she asked Faye shakily when Ein was tired of being lion, darting her puckish eyes over to Jet's scowling face.
"Sure," Faye groaned, flipping the remote control to her. There was nothing good on anyway. Cartoons might just be the thing. "That alright, Jet?"
"All I ask is that you never do that again, 'kay, Eddie-san?" he asked, ruffling her hair. He seemed to be too broody about Spike to bother about Ed, and it had softened him. "It's not for me to punish you. But I'm getting a little old for that kinda thing, hon."
Ed smiled hugged Jet around his chest as far as her arms would go, and flipped the station to the cartoons. Faye couldn't help but smile when she looked up at the shoddy animation once in a while. The cartoon was completely plotless. The only constant seemed to be a purple rooster running around hitting everyone over the head with a monkey wrench. When a kung-fu bunny appeared from nowhere and began teaching the "team" demented karate moves, her interest waned again.
Where was he anyway?
She could never have guessed how soon she would find out.
"I'm gonna go check some bounties," he muttered angrily, obviously tired of watching the frog and bunny duke it out judo style. "Might as well make some money while we're waitin' around."
With that, he was online, checking the posted bounties. He was typing away furiously, flipping from "captured" to "killed" to "pardoned" on down the list, until it was clear the pickings were getting kinda slim.
"Jesus A. Christ, can't a guy get a br-" he stopped. The keyboard stilled. He was dead silent, as if something had hit him in the head.
"What is it?" Faye asked, scooting over to look over his shoulder. Her eyes froze.
There was a news message reading across the screen; Jet had come upon the link by an accidental keystroke. But this particular accident was of great importance.
The message read;
"Mars, Northwest section, Fever City;
Late last night, at approximately 1:25 am, an anonymous tip reported hearing gunshots near 9th street. When authorities arrived on the scene nearly fifteen minutes later, the bodies of two men were found on the roof of the Sayora building. According to autopsy reports, one appeared to have died from a bullet lodged in the upper right chest and the other from numerous stab wounds to the solar plexus and sides. Investigators on the scene hypothesize both these men were responsible for the deaths. Neither man has been identified. A 250,000 woolong reward has been offered for anyone who can provide information on this mysterious crime. If you have any information, please call the number below."
"Jesus," Jet groaned, picking up the phone and typing in the numbers.
Faye felt herself falling forward into the computer screen. So cold . . . Neither man has been identified. Neither man has been identified. How could it be? No . . . don't fall in!!! Two pools, two eyes . . . open and clear, or stiffened and cold? Her reflection stared back at her from the screen. Two pools, two eyes . . . were they filled with light, or shadowed and empty? Neither man has been identified. Sea breeze breath . . . meditative and soft, or muted forever? Spike Spiegel . . .
Tears started to well in her eyes. "No . . . no . . . I won't believe it!" she screamed as he was hanging up the telephone, causing Ed and Ein to stare at her. "He promised!"
"We've got to go, all of us," Jet growled. "Ed! Ein! Turn off that T.V. We're going to the surface."
"Ooooo," whined Ed. "Not 'til end? What happening?"
"Now!" he barked. "Turn it off and quit whining! We're going in!"
With a few quick taps to the keyboard, the ship gave a start and began to move.
'It can't be you,' she thought to herself as they started to descend. 'It's not you. You promised. God, please don't let it be you,' a tear drifted out her eyes. 'It can't be you. I can't live with that.'
* * *
The landing gear's crunch resounded like thunder through the Bebop. Faye didn't even notice the rough landing. She was curled in a chair, her arms wrapped around her blue-jeaned knees, her face buried as low as she could make it. This couldn't be happening. It was all just a bad dream. She'd wake up in his bed, his beautiful breath on her neck . . .
Jet nudged his elbow at her ribs. Faye's tear-filled green eyes looked back at him, their likeness so close to a child's he could hardly look at them.
"C'mon," he muttered low, taking her arm. "You can't sit here forever."
She didn't answer, but she obeyed, following him out of the Bebop, followed by the uncharacteristically silent Ed and Ein.
"Only one day?" a wiry man in a gray uniform with a nametag reading "Jay" asked.
"Oughta be," Jet answered solemnly. "Might as well make it two, just to be safe."
"2,000 woolong charge," Jay said oily, holding a hand out for the bills Jet was licking off. Faye saw the jerk's eyes scanning over her body, hovering over her chest in particular. She didn't look at him.
"And what's your name?" Jay asked her slyly. She didn't answer him. Scum like that isn't worth the time.
"Hey, c'mon!" Jet growled warningly. "Leave her alone!"
"Little shy, eh?" he tried to put a hand on her arm. "Maybe you and me could go grab a coupla' drinks and go back to-" she tore away it violently, nearly spraining his wrist.
"I'm not the kind of woman!" she answered viciously, her eyes full of daggers. Jay didn't say anything but backed away nervously, holding his hands up. Jet moved a step closer to her; a protective pose. He was still scowling in Jay's direction when they stepped out to the street.
The rain fell heavily on her black satin shirt, slowly making her voluptuous form more apparent as they walked slowly to the Fever City crime lab. Subconsciously, she pulled the folds of her coat closer around herself. Strands of violet hair plastered themselves to the back of her neck.
"Sorry about back there," Jet sighed under his breath. "I shoulda done something . . ."
"No . . . it's fine . . ." Faye sobbed slightly, silent tears running down her cheeks. Of course it wasn't fine, but he already knew that. She was only glad the crime lab wasn't far.
* * * The tiny, badly lit room was white like a hospital room and even more sparsely furnished. Four metal chairs sat against the wall, facing a desk where one small, skinny, pale faced woman sat, reading and stamping papers. Faye slumped one of the chairs, pulling her collar high to hide her tears, Ed clambering into the one next to her and staring. Ein lay his furry head on the floor and tried a few feeble wags.
"Are you Jet Black?" the woman asked. He nodded yes.
"I'll need you to fill this out," she handed him a form. "And she should initial . . ." she motioned toward Faye. Faye initialed on her part before Jet even began to read it. She didn't care what it said. Logic didn't exist right now. There was no reason to follow common sense now. It had defied her one too many times lately.
Ed curled up in the chair next to her and fell asleep. How could she sleep at a time like this? She even went so far as to cuddle her head into Faye's lap, but she didn't even push her away. Other things were on her mind as she stared up at the ceiling.
How could this be happening? No . . . think positive . . . what was she talking about? Positive! . . . since when?!? Faye couldn't even remember the last time she "thought positive." But if she didn't think positive, that meant . . . no. No, no, no, no, no. Can't think that. Anything but that. Anything . . .
But then again, what were the chances? She had read the report herself. Wasn't it rather likely that . . . NOOOOOOO! She forced her mind to shut off. Time for a cigarette. She reached over Ed's head to her purse and opened the faux-gold case, the thin, slender white sticks just asking to be lit. The intoxicating fumes slipped into her lungs and into her mind. It began to fall silent.
"I think that oughta be it," Jet growled solemnly. She woke with a start from her nicotine trance.
The skinny woman put on a pair of bug-like reading glasses and read over the form with a fine comb, asking now and then for this or that identification or registration, until after what seemed hours, she finally put it down.
"That's everything I can see," she said stiffly. "You two, come with me. Will he be okay?" she pointed toward the still snoozing Ed, a protective Ein at her feet.
"It's a she," Faye drawled scathingly, " and Ein will look after her."
The little woman shrugged her shoulders and jerked open a door.
She led them to a room that looked more like a closet than a laboratory. This was quickly explained, as all the clothes appeared to be white lab coats.
"Get some of these on," she ordered them in a way like a school principal, handing them cloths to put over their mouths. "You're going to need them pretty damn soon."
Through what seemed like hundred of turns through identical florescent- light, green-tiled halls, each with at least six doors apiece. It was like a maze, and she couldn't help but get the feeling that it was like they kept going the wrong way. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed as though they'd been by this one pallid painting about three times. Was it just a coincidence, or was the woman trying to stall? Perhaps some terrible truth was lurking just within . . . she breathed in the medicine on her cloth, and tried to feel nothing.
A dark office door was open just a few inches. For some reason or another, it caught her eyes.
"In here," the woman opened the door wider, ushering them inside a cramped room. Two large objects were sitting on a large metal table, covered with white sheets.
"Fingers on the nose," she ordered, strapping a surgical mask around her face. Both Jet and Faye put the handkerchiefs up to their faces. "You ever seen one of these before?"
"What? The dead?" Faye groaned. "More times than I'd like to remember."
"Oh yeah?" the woman asked sarcastically. "Well, don't be surprised. I dunno who these two are, but they're getting ripe."
It must have only been seconds. It must have just been a couple of seconds. But to her it was like hours. Hours and hours. Lifetimes even. And in the lifetimes, she saw herself in the reflection of a million different waters, each one different, each one reflected in an eye . . .
Whoosh! A cavalcade of white cloth. For a second or two, there was no sound. It wasn't processing. Cannot find server. The images were like still photos; another world within a world; confirming with reality and yet somewhere else: past, future or never reality at all.
Eyes . . . cold eyes. Eyes full of metal and frozen wasteland. Green hair flopped forward on a pale, white forehead. Neck twisted at funny angle. Mouth hanging halfway open, like just hearing a really sick, confusing joke it takes awhile to figure. Other joints turned wrong ways, one knee toward another The eyes . . .
"That's him," Jet's voice brought her ears out of the mist. His head was hanging down. He didn't wanna look at him any more than he had to. "That's Spike."
The woman nodded her head solemnly. "And this one?" Whoosh!
White demon . . .
"Vicious Reddragon," Jet continued. "You know . . . the Leader of-"
"Leader of Reddragon Syndicate," she muttered under her breath. "Knew I'd see him in here one day. It was pretty much given."
Cannot find server . . . "Mother fucking bastard," a whisper under his breath.
"Which one?"
"Not sure. Both. . . I guess."
Cannot find . . .
Walking down the hall on a much shorter route, stripping off the white lab coats, pulling masks away from the faces.
Cannot find . . .
Opening the door to find the dog and the girl still innocent and asleep.
Server not found . . .
"Might as well get outta here," he tugged at the girl's sleeve and rustled the Corgi with one foot. "There's no use hanging around here anymore. When's it gonna be?" he asked the small woman. "The burial, I mean."
"Couple days from now," she answered. "Won't be much, but at least it's something, I guess."
Server not found . . .
"Spiky. . . Spiky . . ." Ed asked, slightly teary-eyed.
"Not now, Eddie-san," Jet whispered to her, ruffling her hair. Faye even thought she saw a small tear roll down the ex-cop's face. "Not right now."
Connecting . . .
Suddenly, Faye eyes opened higher. Spike dead. Dead. Deceased, departed, pushing up daisies, lifeless, gone to the big place in the sky, kicked the bucket, finished, Davy Jones locker, D-E-A-D dead. As in never coming back. He broke his promise. He didn't come back. He walked right into his clutches and no win for anyone.
"Faye?"
She didn't answer. She was lost in a terrible void. He broke his promise . . .
"Faye?"
Suddenly, she found herself darting toward the door, found herself out on the sidewalk, running as fast as she could up the street further into the city. The shoes were killer on her feet, and yet she was running, running like she'd never run before.
Somewhere from far away she could here a voice.
"Faye! Come back!" it called desperately. "You don't know where you're going!"
Who was yelling? Why was her face getting wet? She looked up to see that it was still raining.
'Did you see it raining too?' she thought to her beloved.
The voice was dying away. The whole world was swirling into a blackish-bluish-purplish void-like chaos.
'Did you think about her?" she wondered. 'Did you think about . . . me?'
Silk on Steel
Six: Tinted Mirrors
Faye was still clinging to her room, curled on the bed, when the sound of the bay doors clanged open far across the Bebop. She had not strayed far from it since yesterday . . . yesterday, when he went away like that. She didn't move when she heard a quite obviously crabby Jet dragging a squealing Ed into the Bebop. She didn't move when they came closer. Jet didn't seem to be aware of the current absence on the ship.
"Three friggin' days, you little brat! Three days chasin' around after you! Do you understand me?!?"
"Ed write in note not come after!" the redhead yelped, which was now accented with a little canine-ish bark. "See? Ein say so!"
"Oh, puh-lease! Like I'm just supposed to let you loose on the solar system??? Sorry, missy, but you're still Radical Edward, and besides of which, a kid!"
Faye did not call out to them. She did not want them to find her here.
But apparently, Jet didn't see it that way.
"Faye? Where the hell are you?"
She didn't answer. What was the use in speaking if you had nothing left to say?
"C'mon!" the frustrated ex-cop's voice echoed through the Bebop. "Faye? Spike? Where the hell is everyone?"
Suddenly, the door to her room burst open. An aggravated Jet Black face peeped through the gap, followed by a tan, redheaded face.
"There you are!" he belted. "What's going on here? Where's Sp-"
One look at her tearstained face made his expression change. In an instant, he let the squirrelly adolescent go, tearing down the hall towards Spike's room. It didn't take long for more dialogue to transpire.
"Alright!" his big heavy boots stomping quickly back to the room where a woman, a girl and a dog all watched, confused. "Where the hell is he?"
Faye sighed and spoke softly to Ed.
"You wanna run off to your room, Eddie."
"Ed in trouble?" the girl asked nervously "Well, I imagine so," she smiled halfheartedly. "But not for now. Me and Jet-man have a lot to talk about."
For once in her life, Ed did not ask questions, but picked up the puzzled Corgi from his lying place and slunk back to her own room, shutting the door on the two glaring adults.
"Explain," Jet commanded curtly, pulling up the chair from her dressing table, "From the beginning."
For nearly fifteen minutes, the door of that room stayed closed. During that time, Faye proceeded to describe a very edited (namely, cutting the part where she crawled into his bed) version of the events of the past few days. According to her, Spike had stayed locked in his room for the first day. He emerged when enticed by Faye's teary pleas and his own forlornness, spending an evening watching movies and having deep conversations. Finally, leaving for Mars and Vicious on the second morning after an emotional fight and a heartfelt goodbye, a kiss. At no time did Jet's voice raise to an abnormal level, although he was apt to sigh deeply and take his head in his hand. A few grumbles emitted from under his breath, but he let her go on until she was finished.
"And let me guess," he said at the end. "He kisses you, and you let him go . . . right?"
"Right," she admitted.
There was a long, deep silence.
"So . . . that's that, I suppose."
Faye looked up at him, shock and surprise in her eyes. "That's that?"
"Of course it is," he answered. "By this time, we wouldn't be able to catch up with him if we tried. Nothing to do now but wait."
She looked skeptical. Somehow, it did not seem like a reasonable answer.
"C'mon," he said, leading her out of the room, his hand on her shoulder. "He's a grown man, not a child. He can make his own decisions. We wait. Until then, no use moping in here. I won't allow it."
"Sure," she muttered, following him to the T.V room. There was no use fighting when there was no win. Ed was already out of her room, carefully avoiding Jet's eye as she tried to teach Ein to be a circus lion, her being the lord ringmaster. Faye yawned, brushing her hair with one arm and flipping through the channels as she lounged on the dingy yellow couch. Jet was in the kitchen, fixing two bowls of corn cereal with fruit for Faye and himself, a large bowl of sugar cereal for Ed, and even a cold sausage for Ein. "Can Ed . . . um . . . maybe watch cartoon?" she asked Faye shakily when Ein was tired of being lion, darting her puckish eyes over to Jet's scowling face.
"Sure," Faye groaned, flipping the remote control to her. There was nothing good on anyway. Cartoons might just be the thing. "That alright, Jet?"
"All I ask is that you never do that again, 'kay, Eddie-san?" he asked, ruffling her hair. He seemed to be too broody about Spike to bother about Ed, and it had softened him. "It's not for me to punish you. But I'm getting a little old for that kinda thing, hon."
Ed smiled hugged Jet around his chest as far as her arms would go, and flipped the station to the cartoons. Faye couldn't help but smile when she looked up at the shoddy animation once in a while. The cartoon was completely plotless. The only constant seemed to be a purple rooster running around hitting everyone over the head with a monkey wrench. When a kung-fu bunny appeared from nowhere and began teaching the "team" demented karate moves, her interest waned again.
Where was he anyway?
She could never have guessed how soon she would find out.
"I'm gonna go check some bounties," he muttered angrily, obviously tired of watching the frog and bunny duke it out judo style. "Might as well make some money while we're waitin' around."
With that, he was online, checking the posted bounties. He was typing away furiously, flipping from "captured" to "killed" to "pardoned" on down the list, until it was clear the pickings were getting kinda slim.
"Jesus A. Christ, can't a guy get a br-" he stopped. The keyboard stilled. He was dead silent, as if something had hit him in the head.
"What is it?" Faye asked, scooting over to look over his shoulder. Her eyes froze.
There was a news message reading across the screen; Jet had come upon the link by an accidental keystroke. But this particular accident was of great importance.
The message read;
"Mars, Northwest section, Fever City;
Late last night, at approximately 1:25 am, an anonymous tip reported hearing gunshots near 9th street. When authorities arrived on the scene nearly fifteen minutes later, the bodies of two men were found on the roof of the Sayora building. According to autopsy reports, one appeared to have died from a bullet lodged in the upper right chest and the other from numerous stab wounds to the solar plexus and sides. Investigators on the scene hypothesize both these men were responsible for the deaths. Neither man has been identified. A 250,000 woolong reward has been offered for anyone who can provide information on this mysterious crime. If you have any information, please call the number below."
"Jesus," Jet groaned, picking up the phone and typing in the numbers.
Faye felt herself falling forward into the computer screen. So cold . . . Neither man has been identified. Neither man has been identified. How could it be? No . . . don't fall in!!! Two pools, two eyes . . . open and clear, or stiffened and cold? Her reflection stared back at her from the screen. Two pools, two eyes . . . were they filled with light, or shadowed and empty? Neither man has been identified. Sea breeze breath . . . meditative and soft, or muted forever? Spike Spiegel . . .
Tears started to well in her eyes. "No . . . no . . . I won't believe it!" she screamed as he was hanging up the telephone, causing Ed and Ein to stare at her. "He promised!"
"We've got to go, all of us," Jet growled. "Ed! Ein! Turn off that T.V. We're going to the surface."
"Ooooo," whined Ed. "Not 'til end? What happening?"
"Now!" he barked. "Turn it off and quit whining! We're going in!"
With a few quick taps to the keyboard, the ship gave a start and began to move.
'It can't be you,' she thought to herself as they started to descend. 'It's not you. You promised. God, please don't let it be you,' a tear drifted out her eyes. 'It can't be you. I can't live with that.'
* * *
The landing gear's crunch resounded like thunder through the Bebop. Faye didn't even notice the rough landing. She was curled in a chair, her arms wrapped around her blue-jeaned knees, her face buried as low as she could make it. This couldn't be happening. It was all just a bad dream. She'd wake up in his bed, his beautiful breath on her neck . . .
Jet nudged his elbow at her ribs. Faye's tear-filled green eyes looked back at him, their likeness so close to a child's he could hardly look at them.
"C'mon," he muttered low, taking her arm. "You can't sit here forever."
She didn't answer, but she obeyed, following him out of the Bebop, followed by the uncharacteristically silent Ed and Ein.
"Only one day?" a wiry man in a gray uniform with a nametag reading "Jay" asked.
"Oughta be," Jet answered solemnly. "Might as well make it two, just to be safe."
"2,000 woolong charge," Jay said oily, holding a hand out for the bills Jet was licking off. Faye saw the jerk's eyes scanning over her body, hovering over her chest in particular. She didn't look at him.
"And what's your name?" Jay asked her slyly. She didn't answer him. Scum like that isn't worth the time.
"Hey, c'mon!" Jet growled warningly. "Leave her alone!"
"Little shy, eh?" he tried to put a hand on her arm. "Maybe you and me could go grab a coupla' drinks and go back to-" she tore away it violently, nearly spraining his wrist.
"I'm not the kind of woman!" she answered viciously, her eyes full of daggers. Jay didn't say anything but backed away nervously, holding his hands up. Jet moved a step closer to her; a protective pose. He was still scowling in Jay's direction when they stepped out to the street.
The rain fell heavily on her black satin shirt, slowly making her voluptuous form more apparent as they walked slowly to the Fever City crime lab. Subconsciously, she pulled the folds of her coat closer around herself. Strands of violet hair plastered themselves to the back of her neck.
"Sorry about back there," Jet sighed under his breath. "I shoulda done something . . ."
"No . . . it's fine . . ." Faye sobbed slightly, silent tears running down her cheeks. Of course it wasn't fine, but he already knew that. She was only glad the crime lab wasn't far.
* * * The tiny, badly lit room was white like a hospital room and even more sparsely furnished. Four metal chairs sat against the wall, facing a desk where one small, skinny, pale faced woman sat, reading and stamping papers. Faye slumped one of the chairs, pulling her collar high to hide her tears, Ed clambering into the one next to her and staring. Ein lay his furry head on the floor and tried a few feeble wags.
"Are you Jet Black?" the woman asked. He nodded yes.
"I'll need you to fill this out," she handed him a form. "And she should initial . . ." she motioned toward Faye. Faye initialed on her part before Jet even began to read it. She didn't care what it said. Logic didn't exist right now. There was no reason to follow common sense now. It had defied her one too many times lately.
Ed curled up in the chair next to her and fell asleep. How could she sleep at a time like this? She even went so far as to cuddle her head into Faye's lap, but she didn't even push her away. Other things were on her mind as she stared up at the ceiling.
How could this be happening? No . . . think positive . . . what was she talking about? Positive! . . . since when?!? Faye couldn't even remember the last time she "thought positive." But if she didn't think positive, that meant . . . no. No, no, no, no, no. Can't think that. Anything but that. Anything . . .
But then again, what were the chances? She had read the report herself. Wasn't it rather likely that . . . NOOOOOOO! She forced her mind to shut off. Time for a cigarette. She reached over Ed's head to her purse and opened the faux-gold case, the thin, slender white sticks just asking to be lit. The intoxicating fumes slipped into her lungs and into her mind. It began to fall silent.
"I think that oughta be it," Jet growled solemnly. She woke with a start from her nicotine trance.
The skinny woman put on a pair of bug-like reading glasses and read over the form with a fine comb, asking now and then for this or that identification or registration, until after what seemed hours, she finally put it down.
"That's everything I can see," she said stiffly. "You two, come with me. Will he be okay?" she pointed toward the still snoozing Ed, a protective Ein at her feet.
"It's a she," Faye drawled scathingly, " and Ein will look after her."
The little woman shrugged her shoulders and jerked open a door.
She led them to a room that looked more like a closet than a laboratory. This was quickly explained, as all the clothes appeared to be white lab coats.
"Get some of these on," she ordered them in a way like a school principal, handing them cloths to put over their mouths. "You're going to need them pretty damn soon."
Through what seemed like hundred of turns through identical florescent- light, green-tiled halls, each with at least six doors apiece. It was like a maze, and she couldn't help but get the feeling that it was like they kept going the wrong way. She couldn't be sure, but it seemed as though they'd been by this one pallid painting about three times. Was it just a coincidence, or was the woman trying to stall? Perhaps some terrible truth was lurking just within . . . she breathed in the medicine on her cloth, and tried to feel nothing.
A dark office door was open just a few inches. For some reason or another, it caught her eyes.
"In here," the woman opened the door wider, ushering them inside a cramped room. Two large objects were sitting on a large metal table, covered with white sheets.
"Fingers on the nose," she ordered, strapping a surgical mask around her face. Both Jet and Faye put the handkerchiefs up to their faces. "You ever seen one of these before?"
"What? The dead?" Faye groaned. "More times than I'd like to remember."
"Oh yeah?" the woman asked sarcastically. "Well, don't be surprised. I dunno who these two are, but they're getting ripe."
It must have only been seconds. It must have just been a couple of seconds. But to her it was like hours. Hours and hours. Lifetimes even. And in the lifetimes, she saw herself in the reflection of a million different waters, each one different, each one reflected in an eye . . .
Whoosh! A cavalcade of white cloth. For a second or two, there was no sound. It wasn't processing. Cannot find server. The images were like still photos; another world within a world; confirming with reality and yet somewhere else: past, future or never reality at all.
Eyes . . . cold eyes. Eyes full of metal and frozen wasteland. Green hair flopped forward on a pale, white forehead. Neck twisted at funny angle. Mouth hanging halfway open, like just hearing a really sick, confusing joke it takes awhile to figure. Other joints turned wrong ways, one knee toward another The eyes . . .
"That's him," Jet's voice brought her ears out of the mist. His head was hanging down. He didn't wanna look at him any more than he had to. "That's Spike."
The woman nodded her head solemnly. "And this one?" Whoosh!
White demon . . .
"Vicious Reddragon," Jet continued. "You know . . . the Leader of-"
"Leader of Reddragon Syndicate," she muttered under her breath. "Knew I'd see him in here one day. It was pretty much given."
Cannot find server . . . "Mother fucking bastard," a whisper under his breath.
"Which one?"
"Not sure. Both. . . I guess."
Cannot find . . .
Walking down the hall on a much shorter route, stripping off the white lab coats, pulling masks away from the faces.
Cannot find . . .
Opening the door to find the dog and the girl still innocent and asleep.
Server not found . . .
"Might as well get outta here," he tugged at the girl's sleeve and rustled the Corgi with one foot. "There's no use hanging around here anymore. When's it gonna be?" he asked the small woman. "The burial, I mean."
"Couple days from now," she answered. "Won't be much, but at least it's something, I guess."
Server not found . . .
"Spiky. . . Spiky . . ." Ed asked, slightly teary-eyed.
"Not now, Eddie-san," Jet whispered to her, ruffling her hair. Faye even thought she saw a small tear roll down the ex-cop's face. "Not right now."
Connecting . . .
Suddenly, Faye eyes opened higher. Spike dead. Dead. Deceased, departed, pushing up daisies, lifeless, gone to the big place in the sky, kicked the bucket, finished, Davy Jones locker, D-E-A-D dead. As in never coming back. He broke his promise. He didn't come back. He walked right into his clutches and no win for anyone.
"Faye?"
She didn't answer. She was lost in a terrible void. He broke his promise . . .
"Faye?"
Suddenly, she found herself darting toward the door, found herself out on the sidewalk, running as fast as she could up the street further into the city. The shoes were killer on her feet, and yet she was running, running like she'd never run before.
Somewhere from far away she could here a voice.
"Faye! Come back!" it called desperately. "You don't know where you're going!"
Who was yelling? Why was her face getting wet? She looked up to see that it was still raining.
'Did you see it raining too?' she thought to her beloved.
The voice was dying away. The whole world was swirling into a blackish-bluish-purplish void-like chaos.
'Did you think about her?" she wondered. 'Did you think about . . . me?'