** It's me again. I've updated (obviously). I hope people are enjoying my story, and if I could I'd like to hear some feedback. Thanks a lot!**
If the sun refused to shine,
I would still be loving you.
When mountains crumble to the sea,
there will still be you and me.
Kind woman, I give you my all,
Kind woman, nothing more.
Little drops of rain whisper of the pain,
tears of loves lost in the days gone by.
My love is strong, with you there is no wrong,
together we shall go until we die. My, my, my.
An inspiration is what you are to me,
inspiration, look... see.
And so today, my world it smiles,
your hand in mine, we walk the miles,
Thanks to you it will be done,
for you to me are the only one.
Happiness, no more be sad,
happiness....I'm glad.
If the sun refused to shine,
I would still be loving you.
When mountains crumble to the sea,
there will still be you and me."
"Thank you." --Led Zeppelin
Julia stared up at the ceiling tiles, her eyes tracing the delicate detail of the tiny swirls and curves of each block. It was a nice ceiling. A nice room for that matter, much better than the rusty roof of the Bebop. Not that she was complaining, any roof, even one covered with welding bullets, was better than no roof.
She sighed and placed her hands behind her head. The bed wasn't too bad either. Soft, yet firm enough for back support. Also good for the business that went on in a place like this. Outside in the hall, she heard giggling and a door close. Someone had a client.
As beautiful as this place was, it harbored some dark secrets behind its walls.
They had come here, nearly a week ago, under Jet's plan. Of course it was a great plan for him, considering he got to stay on the Bebop. She and Faye were undercover, as call girls. Not that they had to sleep with men, they were just here to keep an eye on things, to see if the Ripper would show up. He hadn't so far.
She had protested the plan at first, but not as much as Faye. But really there was no argument; they had no other plans. And of course, Madame Brisette, the mistress of the house, was more than happy to allow them to stay, as long as they only took up one room, ate their own food and offered protection for her girls. So here they were… well, here she was, laying on one of their beds in the cramped room, waiting for Faye to get back. Where the hell was she anyway? She'd been gone for at least an hour already.
To her left, she heard the key in the lock. Finally! She rolled her head to the side and gave her partner a small smile.
"Hey."
"Hey." Faye plunked down on the bed, one foot tucked underneath her, the other dangling over the side. She reached inside the brown bag in her lap and tossed Julia a bag of chips.
"Thanks."
It was weird really, how she and Faye were. They were sitting on the same bed, less than a foot apart, and completely silent. Yet neither of them seemed to mind. There are very few people in the world that Julia could do that with, and one of them was dead.
She ate her chips quickly, boredom only quelling her hunger.
"What'd you when I was gone?" Faye asked, with a full mouth. Her cheek was puffed out to one side as she devoured the sandwich in her hands.
"Sit around and be bored. What took you so long?"
Faye finished chewing and reached into the bag again, producing a bottle of Jack Daniels. "I got us a little gift for later." She placed the bottle on the nightstand between their beds and began to wrap up the other half of her sandwich. "Anything new?"
"Nah." Julia reached for hers, but Faye stopped her.
"You should really save that. This is lunch and dinner for tonight. We're low on funds." She nodded towards the bottle. "Sacrifices, you know?"
Sadly Julia looked down at her beautiful sandwich, covered in saran wrap. She was still hungry. But it was worth it, right? With a sigh, she tossed it aside. "We gotta catch this guy."
"You're tellin' me."
* * *
It was 2:30 in the morning. They had been up all night, waiting for each and every girl to come home or for their client to leave. Another night without problems. Faye rolled onto her side. Something just didn't seem right. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find a position comfortable enough to fall asleep in.
Next door, Eloise had a client. The continuous thump of the headboard against the wall above her head was starting to wear on her.
"I hate this place." She groaned, pulling her pillow over her head. From the other bed, Julia chuckled. With a cold glare, Faye moved the pillow from her face. "Glad you find it amusing."
"Sorry." Julia offered, half-heartedly.
Loud grunting noises started coming from the wall. Sitting up, Faye looked at the wall in shock. "What do you think they're doing over there?"
Placing her hands behind her head, Julia gave her a bland look. "Playing Parcheesi."
Flopping back down on her side, Faye fluffed her pillow, before slamming her head into it. "Nice to see you've been picking up smart ass tips from Jet."
Julia sighed, not taking Faye's cranky comment to heart, and once again looked up at the ceiling. That's all there was to do around here. The thumping of the headboard made her think of the one other thing there was to do here.
"Can you imagine having to live like this?"
"No, these rooms are hotter than hell." Faye grumbled, pushing the remainder of her covers off the bed with her feet.
Julia rolled to her side. "I mean, can you imagine having to sell yourself in order to live? To be able to simply exist in society?" The thought made her cringe. What an awful life these girls must have. Sure they got to live in a nice home, with 3 meals a day, but they were tied here. They had no freedom to the outside world. Their Mistress was their master, their parent, their God. What did they have to look forward to? They were forever in debt. No matter how many men came along. And now there was even more at stake.
"Why do you think he wants them dead?" She asked, her mind drifting to the Ripper.
The question had rolled around in Faye's mind since the first gruesome murder. "Maybe he's some sort of Jesus freak, wanting to be a modern day crusader."
"Maybe he was abused by his mother, who was a hooker."
"Maybe he's just a sick asshole who kills prostitutes." Faye offered.
"Maybe." Julia leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed her cigarettes. "Want a smoke?"
Faye sat up, letting her legs fall over the side of her bed. That was a yes in Julia's book. She tossed her one, then the lighter, after she had lit her own. Faye leaned down and grabbed the bottle of Jack, taking off the top and gulping down a few mouthfuls, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and giving the bottle to Julia.
Leaning against her headboard, Faye sparked the lighter. The alcohol still burned in her chest, as she indulged in the smoky smoothness of her cigarette. They were stretching them out now, sharing a pack a day. It was literally hell. Staring across the empty room, she folded her arm across her stomach and drew her knees up.
"Julia?"
Julia 'hmm' in response, probably enjoying the ecstasy of nicotine herself.
Faye took another drag and let it out. "What the hell did you ever see in Vicious?"
When she didn't answer, Faye looked over to the other bed. Julia looked much like she did, sitting in the same position, staring off, thinking.
"Power." She finally answered. "He was the toughest, hardest and most cut throat person I had ever met. I knew I'd be going places if I stayed with him." She flicked her ashes into the ashtray between them, her eyes still looking distant. She took another hit off the J.D bottle, before handing it over to Faye. "He was not a man to cross. Definitely someone you didn't want to make an enemy out of, and I wouldn't have. Until I met Spike."
Faye stilled the bottle at her lips, as her heart gave a slight palpitation at the mention of his name. She gave a grunt, smiling slightly. "That Lunkhead turned everyone into a dumb ass."
Julia smiled in return. "He sure did."
Next door Eloise gave out a loud a loud scream. The girls glanced over at each other.
"Christ all mighty, what's he killing her over there?"
The thumping stopped.
Faye stood up, slightly wobbly, on her bed, and pressed her ear to the wall. "I think they're done." She snorted and flicked her ashes into the try. "By the sounds of it, she should be paying him."
Julia gave her a wry look and stubbed out her cigarette. This place was wearing on her consciousness. She genuinely liked the women here, even if their profession was less than admirable. It vaguely made her wonder what she'd be doing now if she weren't lucky enough to get in the syndicate. A bitter smile appeared at the thought. Imagine, considering herself lucky to be trapped in such a gutter of society.
To her, the syndicate ended up being a huge black hole. It looked mysterious and beautifully dangerous in the beginning, but as soon as you were in, the only way to get out was to give up you life. Or someone else's.
She picked up her brush from her nightstand and sat behind Faye. Silently, she began to brush her hair.
Faye didn't say a word, just continued to finish her cigarette. She had a way of savoring things more, taking more time to draw out the cigarette, instead of sucking it up, like Julia had.
Julia watched the black strands being shifted through the brush, it's highlights shining purple in the dark. The complete opposite of her own wavy strands of gold. Faye had let her hair grow out, since she'd come along. It reached just below her shoulder blades at this point. She often wondered why she hadn't continued to have it cut, after all, the original style needed up keep to maintain it's shape.
"Your hair's getting so long."
Faye took her last drag, before snubbing out the butt. "Yeah."
"I like it… it seems softens your face."
With a small huff, Faye smiled. "Thanks."
"I mean it makes you look nicer."
"Quit while you're ahead, Julia."
Sighing, Julia let her arm fall to the side, stopping the soothing combing of Faye's hair. Faye glanced over her shoulder. She hadn't said anything, but she loved it when people would brush her hair. She remembered, as a little girl, her mother sitting on her bed, stroking her ebony stands until the shined, free of any tangles. It was strange that something so simple you experienced as a child could bring you such comfort as an adult.
Julia leaned forward and pressed her cheek to the back of Faye's shoulder. "Do you miss him?"
She felt Faye's muscles tense up slightly below her cheekbone. Ever since that night, they never mentioned either of their feelings regarding Spike. He came up in conversation, of course, but it was more like 'Spike always used to steal my cigarettes' or 'Spike always complained about the cooking', nothing very personal. Faye had always wondered about him and Julia, but feared to ask. She was afraid of what she might hear, and also afraid to share. What if Spike did love Julia more? What if she was just a painkiller, a little distraction, from the forever-aching need for Julia? Any details of their relationship she wanted to be deaf and blind to, for fear of tainting her own memory.
"Sometimes."
Julia sighed and closed her eyes. She could hear Faye's steady, yet slightly elevated heart beat in her ears. "Me too." It felt good to finally bring it out in the open. It had been almost a year. "Sometimes I think he's alive." Faye's heartbeat rose another step. "I think about what would happen if he came back." She felt Faye move from beneath her cheek, and she looked up, sitting back slightly.
Faye turned her upper half slightly, to stare Julia in the face with her sober expression. Her green eyes seemed to piece through the center of Julia's hope.
"And if he were alive? Then what? What would happen with us Julia? What would you do?" Her voice was calm, unwavering and cold. "I know you'd assume he's go back to you, but what is he chose me? Would you be able to handle that? To look at the two of us together and know he loved me more than you?" Her features softened slightly. "I know I couldn't do that. Julia, Spike's dead. And…" Her gaze dropped to the floor. "Better off that way."
* * *
****Spike's World****
His hands trembled as he held the gun in his right, his head in the left. He couldn't believe it, yet he had seen it with his own eyes. His beautiful wife, his perfect family, his wonderful life. All blown to shit, just because he had come home fifteen minutes early. Had he stopped to talk to someone on his route home, had he just paused to think for a while, everything would have been just as it was before. But he had been early.
The image of his angel, his Julia, sheet pulled around her chest, sputtering excuses as the man next to her glared back at him, no emotion ever crossing his features, was burned into his mind. What did Vic care anyway? His life wasn't over. He didn't trust that rat bastard from day one. And apparently with good reason.
Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he stared at the grout between the tiles. Now what was he going to do? His shoulder hissed with pain, as the blood from the wound began to seep further and further down his arm. Maybe he would bleed to death. Maybe he should just shoot himself now. Of course, it would help to have bullets in his gun. He gave a sigh of disgust as he tossed the useless weapon onto the floor. It cracked a tile, before spinning and clanking against the base of the toilet. What the hell good was a gun if you couldn't use to kill the bastard that's been banging your wife? The only purpose it served was to knock the bastard out cold before he could land another blow with his knife. His shoulder began to ache now, and he placed his hand over it, making a feeble attempt for comfort.
He should have killed the bastard, but he didn't. Instead he just ran, like a coward. Left Julia, his life and everything else behind, checking into the first motel he came across. Boy did he get some weird looks, limping in, dripping blood all over. But they gave him a room anyway.
For an instant, he felt a touch of fear. He was alone now. As confusing as everything was to him there, it was still his home, right? He had married that woman, raised those children, even if he couldn't remember everything, it had still happened. And now he had nothing. Just a lousy gun with no bullets.
He closed his eyes and wished for anything. Just a moment of comfort. A smile from a stranger, a warm hand on his shoulder (not the wounded one, of course), a bowl of goddamn soup, anything, it didn't matter.
The wind tousled his hair slightly as he opened his eyes. Before him was the tent, it's canvas fluttering peacefully in the breeze. For months now he had avoided that tent at all costs. He would take alternative routes to work, distract himself constantly, and do whatever else it took to keep his mind from her.
But no matter what he did, she was always there.
There were no greeters this time, just the wind, gently pushing him forward, urging him to continue. Taking a deep breath, and receiving a sharp pain, he stepped through the fabric and into the world he had longed to return to. He passed through the second set of silk curtains, expecting to be in the room blanketed with pillows again, but instead, stepping into a rich, luxurious bedroom.
The wallpaper was a deep burgundy, with golden designs; swirling and dancing their way up to meet the ceiling. Every piece of furniture was unique and ornate; it's lacquer gleaming by the light if the fire. Before the fireplace rested an elegant couch, it's wooden lion clawed base shining, it's material looking soft and smooth to the eye. Between the hearth and the couch stretched a bearskin, glowing gold by firelight. God he wanted to lie on the couch.
He stepped in, awe-struck by his surroundings. A glorious canopy bed arched nearly to the ceiling, delicately carved with tiny ivy leaves and adorned with the finest of wine colored sheets.
"I was expecting you."
His attention focused on her. She was sitting before a vanity he hadn't noticed before. Quietly she placed her brush before her, watching him in the reflection.
Bashfully, he placed his (good) hand behind his head and shrugged his (good) shoulder boyishly. A soft smile replied to him as she stood. She was dressed on a simple white night dress. It was by no means sexy, but her bare arms and gossamer material was enough to cause him to blush and glance away.
"Sit, I'll tend to your wounds." Gesturing towards the couch, she headed for the water basin.
He settled on the couch uneasily, not liking the direction his thoughts were straying.
She stood before him with the bowl of water, the fire behind her nearly making her nightgown transparent. She knelt before him, reaching in the bowl for a cloth.
"Lie down."
He did so as she rung out the small scrap of material. Gently, she unbuttoned his blood stained shirt, and pulled it aside from his shoulder, dabbing the wound that, thankfully, was on the shoulder facing her. A stinging pain seeped inside the wound and he sucked in a breath to keep himself from screaming. Her hand paused slightly, her eyes surveying him for when to continue. When she thought he was ready, she bowed her head and worked diligently to finish up the job.
He watched her quietly, ignoring the pain. The firelight gleamed off the crown of her hair, looking to him like the dim outline of a halo. Her head lifted a little, her beautiful emerald eyes meeting his for a moment before drifting towards his mouth. A blush graced her features, as she bowed her head again. His fingertips reached out, gently drifting through her soft, short strands. She secured the final wrap around his shoulder, leaning back a little, his hand coming to rest on the back of her neck.
"Thank you." He offered quietly.
"Your welcome."
Gently, he used the tips of his fingers to pull her forward. It seemed as if he were wrapped in a web of tiny, invisible strings, all cinching, and pulling them slowly together. Her big, clear eyes called him closer, as her soft red lips enticed him for a taste. He felt an inkling of familiarity as the scene played out, but for the life of him could not place why. The flames made her skin glow amber, with softer golden tones. His palms itched to reach out and lay over the small of her back, testing the warmth of her body below the thin gown.
His lips brushed against her forehead. His fingers relaxed a bit, allowing her to sit back. He gazed at her quietly, over come with an immense feeling he had only felt long ago.
"My wife cheated on me." He told her quietly. She stared back at him evenly, showing no signs of sympathy. "For years, actually, and I didn't even know."
She reached for his bandage, removing it with out a sound. Her hand drifted over his newly healed skin. But the miracle of the new shoulder didn't concern him at the moment. He paused, catching her hand in his.
"Are you to return the betrayal?" She asked softly, not making any attempt to move her hand.
He hesitated, before removing his hand from hers. "I don't know. Our marriage was over long ago."
Her fingers trailed down, drifting over the sensitive skin of him abdomen, as she searched his eyes soberly. "So much pain in your life, it's no wonder you weren't allowed to enjoy the dream." Too distracted by her wandering fingertips, he didn't question her statement. "It can change." Her palm came to rest on his chest. "All of this, if you just take the chance."
"What chance is that?" He asked though coin slit eyes.
She gazed back at him softly. "Why ask questions you already know the answer to?"
He paused before he sat up, leaning on his arm. His hand reached out again, entwining his fingers into her soft strands. His mouth brushed the corner of hers, before they pressed fully. Wanting more, but afraid of his sudden greed for lust, he turned his mouth away, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"I'm sorry." He whispered weakly.
She placed her hands on either side of his face, giving him a comforting smile. "Would you like some wine?"
Gulping, he nodded as she stood. He leaned back again, resting his hand behind his head, watching her as she poured the wine from its bottle. She turned to him, glasses in hand.
"Follow me." She said simply, turning and walking through a doorway he had not noticed until the very second she disappeared through it. He stood easily, no pain coming from that once wounded shoulder. He followed her into the room, once again taken back by mystery and beauty. The was no furniture, just a wooden floor with a square cut in the center, inside the hole, dark gleaming water, reflecting the moon, which shone through the single window on the other end of the room,
"What's this?" He asked, walking to the edge of the water hole.
She came up behind him, two white towels draped over her arms, yet still holding the glasses. "It's a bath." Gently she placed the two glasses down. "Please, take off your clothes."
He stared at her blankly for a second, before he laughed. "You can't be serious."
"I am."
"What good will a bath do me?"
"Cleanse you as well as relax you." She replied simply.
She did have a point, he thought, staring at the steam swirling up from the surface of the glistening tub.
"Alright." His fingers fumbled with his belt, suddenly nervous. He glanced up at her. "Turn around."
A tiny hint of a smile graced her lips before she turned from him. Quickly, he undressed and descended into the hot bath. An involuntary moan escaped him, as the tension from his body came to rest in the warm water.
Once he was in the bath, she turned and sat beside him on the floor. Her hand dipped into the water, producing a sponge. She clenched it above his back, allowing the hot water to trickle over his sore muscles.
"Who is the man your wife allowed into your bed?"
He wrapped his arms around his legs, allowing the soothing water to cascade down his back.
"An old comrade." He didn't know why he said it, he hated Vic. But, instead of feeling the immense anger he had before, now he only felt defeat. Sadness for the marriage the never truly existed. But all the anger was gone, because now he was with her. Now the world was moving slow. He was with her and it was all the mattered.
He heard her slip into the bath behind him. Her legs gently clamped his sides as her arm draped over his shoulders, reclining him back onto her. His head rested on her shoulder as he relaxed against her soft body. Her breasts pushed against his back as the rest of his body molded to fit the unique cushion she made for him.
A sudden feeling came over him, one which he had experienced many times around her. But this time he didn't fight it. After all, he was a man, and she, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had bewitched him, enticed him into looking at the forbidden fruit, now all he had to do was taste it.
His eyes closed as her hands fluttered below the water, massaging his stomach muscles. "This must be heaven." He murmured against her jawbone.
Against his back he felt her chuckle. "Maybe," Her hands drifted up to his chest again. "For do you know what true heaven is?"
Allowing his hand to press against her thigh, his response came out in a slight moan. "No, what?"
"Truth." Her mouth pressed against his ear, her hot breath sending chills racing up his spine. She placed a trail of kisses on his shoulder. "Haven't you always wanted the answers? Why you have no memory of your past? Why you only know what people tell you? How come nothing seems right and everything moves so fast? Aren't those the questions that haunt your mind?" Her hands once again drifted down and teasingly massaged his lower belly. "There's more too. Where did you meet your wife? When were your children born? How did you get your job? How come people call you by a name you know isn't your own?" She paused, removing her hands and placing them on his shoulders. "But most of all, who am I and why do you know me?"
His body felt revved and primed for excitement. Blood hummed through his veins like never before. All at once he felt nervous, excited and scared, but most of all anxious. She had pushed him to the edge and now it was time for a taste.
He sat up from the comfy cradle of her body, to turn around and face her. Her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, the ends of her hair wet, as her body glistened from the steam. Quietly he leaned forward, closing the gaps between their mouths. He captured her mouth with a great hunger, devouring it, conquering it as his own. Her skin felt slick and smooth below the water as his hands eagerly roved over each inch of it. He was loosing himself to her. He pulled away, short of breath, and slightly ashamed of his animalistic behavior.
Her own breath was short now as she stared back at him, the water level rising and falling on her chest with each gasp.
"All those things you said before, how did you know them?"
She seemed to survey him for a moment before she spoke. "Because I know all that has to do with you." The water covered her shoulders as she leaned forward to him. "I know you're ready. Please, say you're ready."
Her eyes seemed like delicate jade saucers, brimmed with tears, as she pleaded to him. He was starting to get that strange feeling again. How could she possibly know the answers he was looking for?
"Read for what?"
She paused again, her eyes scanning his face. "The truth… your future."
"Yes."
Slowly, she stood, glimmering rivets running down her body. He watched, in slight awe, as she lifted herself onto the bath, her legs still hanging into the water. Without a word, she called him forward, and he complied, standing himself. He rested his hands on either side of her thighs and kissed her lighter, more sensual this time. Deep down, he got the feeling that this was the end, he'd never see her again.
She reclined onto the floor, as he softly followed her, trying not to press her with his weight. This was now more than just sex, more than just getting back at an unfaithful wife. This was deeper. Poetry without words, music without sound, a dream becoming reality. He felt like he was praying at the temple of a Goddess. That this was not a carnal act of man, but instead an ancient ritual to better oneself. Leaving one life to fulfill another. It was all this, and even more.
His body felt light and euphoric as they caressed each other. Never before had it felt like this.
Her warm hand grasped onto him, guiding him inside her. With one motion, he felt a warmth flow throughout him, and he continued to move with her in this perfectly synched molding of their bodies. She clung to him, as if trying to keep their bodies in full contact as he rested his forehead on her shoulder. Something was building inside him, another feeling unlike any other. He had done this deed before, but this time it felt like the powers of the cosmos were within him, ready to explode. She was caught up in her own waves of pleasure, herself, seemingly on the verge of her own explosion.
A release let go inside her, as she trembled below him, her nails digging themselves into the skin of his shoulders. And then she pressed her lips to his ear again, and moaned something.
"Spike."
It was like a floodgate had been opened. Flashes of things he had forgot he had forgotten. A childhood, the syndicate, Julia, Vicious and the death that never really happened. A new life, Jet, Ed, Ein, all of it was rushing back… and her. Not like the Goddess he met, but the woman. The sarcastic, rude, foul-mouthed, pain in the ass woman who stole his cigarettes and his food. The annoying tag along who cheated at everything, always got into trouble, then bailed him out. The lonely, scared woman who he shared so much with. The beautiful, soft and caring woman whom he had fallen in love with.
"Faye."
It came out as a hoarse whisper. Grudgingly lifted his heavy eyelids, only to be blinded with hot, bright light.
**That's it! I'm thinking that not many people like this story, but I'm not sure. I think my review numbers are a little low, so I'm trying to get more people to read, and then get their opinions. So help a writer out! Anyway, things are going to start getting pretty strange around the Bebop. Check back a little later for more updates.**
If the sun refused to shine,
I would still be loving you.
When mountains crumble to the sea,
there will still be you and me.
Kind woman, I give you my all,
Kind woman, nothing more.
Little drops of rain whisper of the pain,
tears of loves lost in the days gone by.
My love is strong, with you there is no wrong,
together we shall go until we die. My, my, my.
An inspiration is what you are to me,
inspiration, look... see.
And so today, my world it smiles,
your hand in mine, we walk the miles,
Thanks to you it will be done,
for you to me are the only one.
Happiness, no more be sad,
happiness....I'm glad.
If the sun refused to shine,
I would still be loving you.
When mountains crumble to the sea,
there will still be you and me."
"Thank you." --Led Zeppelin
Julia stared up at the ceiling tiles, her eyes tracing the delicate detail of the tiny swirls and curves of each block. It was a nice ceiling. A nice room for that matter, much better than the rusty roof of the Bebop. Not that she was complaining, any roof, even one covered with welding bullets, was better than no roof.
She sighed and placed her hands behind her head. The bed wasn't too bad either. Soft, yet firm enough for back support. Also good for the business that went on in a place like this. Outside in the hall, she heard giggling and a door close. Someone had a client.
As beautiful as this place was, it harbored some dark secrets behind its walls.
They had come here, nearly a week ago, under Jet's plan. Of course it was a great plan for him, considering he got to stay on the Bebop. She and Faye were undercover, as call girls. Not that they had to sleep with men, they were just here to keep an eye on things, to see if the Ripper would show up. He hadn't so far.
She had protested the plan at first, but not as much as Faye. But really there was no argument; they had no other plans. And of course, Madame Brisette, the mistress of the house, was more than happy to allow them to stay, as long as they only took up one room, ate their own food and offered protection for her girls. So here they were… well, here she was, laying on one of their beds in the cramped room, waiting for Faye to get back. Where the hell was she anyway? She'd been gone for at least an hour already.
To her left, she heard the key in the lock. Finally! She rolled her head to the side and gave her partner a small smile.
"Hey."
"Hey." Faye plunked down on the bed, one foot tucked underneath her, the other dangling over the side. She reached inside the brown bag in her lap and tossed Julia a bag of chips.
"Thanks."
It was weird really, how she and Faye were. They were sitting on the same bed, less than a foot apart, and completely silent. Yet neither of them seemed to mind. There are very few people in the world that Julia could do that with, and one of them was dead.
She ate her chips quickly, boredom only quelling her hunger.
"What'd you when I was gone?" Faye asked, with a full mouth. Her cheek was puffed out to one side as she devoured the sandwich in her hands.
"Sit around and be bored. What took you so long?"
Faye finished chewing and reached into the bag again, producing a bottle of Jack Daniels. "I got us a little gift for later." She placed the bottle on the nightstand between their beds and began to wrap up the other half of her sandwich. "Anything new?"
"Nah." Julia reached for hers, but Faye stopped her.
"You should really save that. This is lunch and dinner for tonight. We're low on funds." She nodded towards the bottle. "Sacrifices, you know?"
Sadly Julia looked down at her beautiful sandwich, covered in saran wrap. She was still hungry. But it was worth it, right? With a sigh, she tossed it aside. "We gotta catch this guy."
"You're tellin' me."
* * *
It was 2:30 in the morning. They had been up all night, waiting for each and every girl to come home or for their client to leave. Another night without problems. Faye rolled onto her side. Something just didn't seem right. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't find a position comfortable enough to fall asleep in.
Next door, Eloise had a client. The continuous thump of the headboard against the wall above her head was starting to wear on her.
"I hate this place." She groaned, pulling her pillow over her head. From the other bed, Julia chuckled. With a cold glare, Faye moved the pillow from her face. "Glad you find it amusing."
"Sorry." Julia offered, half-heartedly.
Loud grunting noises started coming from the wall. Sitting up, Faye looked at the wall in shock. "What do you think they're doing over there?"
Placing her hands behind her head, Julia gave her a bland look. "Playing Parcheesi."
Flopping back down on her side, Faye fluffed her pillow, before slamming her head into it. "Nice to see you've been picking up smart ass tips from Jet."
Julia sighed, not taking Faye's cranky comment to heart, and once again looked up at the ceiling. That's all there was to do around here. The thumping of the headboard made her think of the one other thing there was to do here.
"Can you imagine having to live like this?"
"No, these rooms are hotter than hell." Faye grumbled, pushing the remainder of her covers off the bed with her feet.
Julia rolled to her side. "I mean, can you imagine having to sell yourself in order to live? To be able to simply exist in society?" The thought made her cringe. What an awful life these girls must have. Sure they got to live in a nice home, with 3 meals a day, but they were tied here. They had no freedom to the outside world. Their Mistress was their master, their parent, their God. What did they have to look forward to? They were forever in debt. No matter how many men came along. And now there was even more at stake.
"Why do you think he wants them dead?" She asked, her mind drifting to the Ripper.
The question had rolled around in Faye's mind since the first gruesome murder. "Maybe he's some sort of Jesus freak, wanting to be a modern day crusader."
"Maybe he was abused by his mother, who was a hooker."
"Maybe he's just a sick asshole who kills prostitutes." Faye offered.
"Maybe." Julia leaned over to the nightstand and grabbed her cigarettes. "Want a smoke?"
Faye sat up, letting her legs fall over the side of her bed. That was a yes in Julia's book. She tossed her one, then the lighter, after she had lit her own. Faye leaned down and grabbed the bottle of Jack, taking off the top and gulping down a few mouthfuls, before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand and giving the bottle to Julia.
Leaning against her headboard, Faye sparked the lighter. The alcohol still burned in her chest, as she indulged in the smoky smoothness of her cigarette. They were stretching them out now, sharing a pack a day. It was literally hell. Staring across the empty room, she folded her arm across her stomach and drew her knees up.
"Julia?"
Julia 'hmm' in response, probably enjoying the ecstasy of nicotine herself.
Faye took another drag and let it out. "What the hell did you ever see in Vicious?"
When she didn't answer, Faye looked over to the other bed. Julia looked much like she did, sitting in the same position, staring off, thinking.
"Power." She finally answered. "He was the toughest, hardest and most cut throat person I had ever met. I knew I'd be going places if I stayed with him." She flicked her ashes into the ashtray between them, her eyes still looking distant. She took another hit off the J.D bottle, before handing it over to Faye. "He was not a man to cross. Definitely someone you didn't want to make an enemy out of, and I wouldn't have. Until I met Spike."
Faye stilled the bottle at her lips, as her heart gave a slight palpitation at the mention of his name. She gave a grunt, smiling slightly. "That Lunkhead turned everyone into a dumb ass."
Julia smiled in return. "He sure did."
Next door Eloise gave out a loud a loud scream. The girls glanced over at each other.
"Christ all mighty, what's he killing her over there?"
The thumping stopped.
Faye stood up, slightly wobbly, on her bed, and pressed her ear to the wall. "I think they're done." She snorted and flicked her ashes into the try. "By the sounds of it, she should be paying him."
Julia gave her a wry look and stubbed out her cigarette. This place was wearing on her consciousness. She genuinely liked the women here, even if their profession was less than admirable. It vaguely made her wonder what she'd be doing now if she weren't lucky enough to get in the syndicate. A bitter smile appeared at the thought. Imagine, considering herself lucky to be trapped in such a gutter of society.
To her, the syndicate ended up being a huge black hole. It looked mysterious and beautifully dangerous in the beginning, but as soon as you were in, the only way to get out was to give up you life. Or someone else's.
She picked up her brush from her nightstand and sat behind Faye. Silently, she began to brush her hair.
Faye didn't say a word, just continued to finish her cigarette. She had a way of savoring things more, taking more time to draw out the cigarette, instead of sucking it up, like Julia had.
Julia watched the black strands being shifted through the brush, it's highlights shining purple in the dark. The complete opposite of her own wavy strands of gold. Faye had let her hair grow out, since she'd come along. It reached just below her shoulder blades at this point. She often wondered why she hadn't continued to have it cut, after all, the original style needed up keep to maintain it's shape.
"Your hair's getting so long."
Faye took her last drag, before snubbing out the butt. "Yeah."
"I like it… it seems softens your face."
With a small huff, Faye smiled. "Thanks."
"I mean it makes you look nicer."
"Quit while you're ahead, Julia."
Sighing, Julia let her arm fall to the side, stopping the soothing combing of Faye's hair. Faye glanced over her shoulder. She hadn't said anything, but she loved it when people would brush her hair. She remembered, as a little girl, her mother sitting on her bed, stroking her ebony stands until the shined, free of any tangles. It was strange that something so simple you experienced as a child could bring you such comfort as an adult.
Julia leaned forward and pressed her cheek to the back of Faye's shoulder. "Do you miss him?"
She felt Faye's muscles tense up slightly below her cheekbone. Ever since that night, they never mentioned either of their feelings regarding Spike. He came up in conversation, of course, but it was more like 'Spike always used to steal my cigarettes' or 'Spike always complained about the cooking', nothing very personal. Faye had always wondered about him and Julia, but feared to ask. She was afraid of what she might hear, and also afraid to share. What if Spike did love Julia more? What if she was just a painkiller, a little distraction, from the forever-aching need for Julia? Any details of their relationship she wanted to be deaf and blind to, for fear of tainting her own memory.
"Sometimes."
Julia sighed and closed her eyes. She could hear Faye's steady, yet slightly elevated heart beat in her ears. "Me too." It felt good to finally bring it out in the open. It had been almost a year. "Sometimes I think he's alive." Faye's heartbeat rose another step. "I think about what would happen if he came back." She felt Faye move from beneath her cheek, and she looked up, sitting back slightly.
Faye turned her upper half slightly, to stare Julia in the face with her sober expression. Her green eyes seemed to piece through the center of Julia's hope.
"And if he were alive? Then what? What would happen with us Julia? What would you do?" Her voice was calm, unwavering and cold. "I know you'd assume he's go back to you, but what is he chose me? Would you be able to handle that? To look at the two of us together and know he loved me more than you?" Her features softened slightly. "I know I couldn't do that. Julia, Spike's dead. And…" Her gaze dropped to the floor. "Better off that way."
* * *
****Spike's World****
His hands trembled as he held the gun in his right, his head in the left. He couldn't believe it, yet he had seen it with his own eyes. His beautiful wife, his perfect family, his wonderful life. All blown to shit, just because he had come home fifteen minutes early. Had he stopped to talk to someone on his route home, had he just paused to think for a while, everything would have been just as it was before. But he had been early.
The image of his angel, his Julia, sheet pulled around her chest, sputtering excuses as the man next to her glared back at him, no emotion ever crossing his features, was burned into his mind. What did Vic care anyway? His life wasn't over. He didn't trust that rat bastard from day one. And apparently with good reason.
Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he stared at the grout between the tiles. Now what was he going to do? His shoulder hissed with pain, as the blood from the wound began to seep further and further down his arm. Maybe he would bleed to death. Maybe he should just shoot himself now. Of course, it would help to have bullets in his gun. He gave a sigh of disgust as he tossed the useless weapon onto the floor. It cracked a tile, before spinning and clanking against the base of the toilet. What the hell good was a gun if you couldn't use to kill the bastard that's been banging your wife? The only purpose it served was to knock the bastard out cold before he could land another blow with his knife. His shoulder began to ache now, and he placed his hand over it, making a feeble attempt for comfort.
He should have killed the bastard, but he didn't. Instead he just ran, like a coward. Left Julia, his life and everything else behind, checking into the first motel he came across. Boy did he get some weird looks, limping in, dripping blood all over. But they gave him a room anyway.
For an instant, he felt a touch of fear. He was alone now. As confusing as everything was to him there, it was still his home, right? He had married that woman, raised those children, even if he couldn't remember everything, it had still happened. And now he had nothing. Just a lousy gun with no bullets.
He closed his eyes and wished for anything. Just a moment of comfort. A smile from a stranger, a warm hand on his shoulder (not the wounded one, of course), a bowl of goddamn soup, anything, it didn't matter.
The wind tousled his hair slightly as he opened his eyes. Before him was the tent, it's canvas fluttering peacefully in the breeze. For months now he had avoided that tent at all costs. He would take alternative routes to work, distract himself constantly, and do whatever else it took to keep his mind from her.
But no matter what he did, she was always there.
There were no greeters this time, just the wind, gently pushing him forward, urging him to continue. Taking a deep breath, and receiving a sharp pain, he stepped through the fabric and into the world he had longed to return to. He passed through the second set of silk curtains, expecting to be in the room blanketed with pillows again, but instead, stepping into a rich, luxurious bedroom.
The wallpaper was a deep burgundy, with golden designs; swirling and dancing their way up to meet the ceiling. Every piece of furniture was unique and ornate; it's lacquer gleaming by the light if the fire. Before the fireplace rested an elegant couch, it's wooden lion clawed base shining, it's material looking soft and smooth to the eye. Between the hearth and the couch stretched a bearskin, glowing gold by firelight. God he wanted to lie on the couch.
He stepped in, awe-struck by his surroundings. A glorious canopy bed arched nearly to the ceiling, delicately carved with tiny ivy leaves and adorned with the finest of wine colored sheets.
"I was expecting you."
His attention focused on her. She was sitting before a vanity he hadn't noticed before. Quietly she placed her brush before her, watching him in the reflection.
Bashfully, he placed his (good) hand behind his head and shrugged his (good) shoulder boyishly. A soft smile replied to him as she stood. She was dressed on a simple white night dress. It was by no means sexy, but her bare arms and gossamer material was enough to cause him to blush and glance away.
"Sit, I'll tend to your wounds." Gesturing towards the couch, she headed for the water basin.
He settled on the couch uneasily, not liking the direction his thoughts were straying.
She stood before him with the bowl of water, the fire behind her nearly making her nightgown transparent. She knelt before him, reaching in the bowl for a cloth.
"Lie down."
He did so as she rung out the small scrap of material. Gently, she unbuttoned his blood stained shirt, and pulled it aside from his shoulder, dabbing the wound that, thankfully, was on the shoulder facing her. A stinging pain seeped inside the wound and he sucked in a breath to keep himself from screaming. Her hand paused slightly, her eyes surveying him for when to continue. When she thought he was ready, she bowed her head and worked diligently to finish up the job.
He watched her quietly, ignoring the pain. The firelight gleamed off the crown of her hair, looking to him like the dim outline of a halo. Her head lifted a little, her beautiful emerald eyes meeting his for a moment before drifting towards his mouth. A blush graced her features, as she bowed her head again. His fingertips reached out, gently drifting through her soft, short strands. She secured the final wrap around his shoulder, leaning back a little, his hand coming to rest on the back of her neck.
"Thank you." He offered quietly.
"Your welcome."
Gently, he used the tips of his fingers to pull her forward. It seemed as if he were wrapped in a web of tiny, invisible strings, all cinching, and pulling them slowly together. Her big, clear eyes called him closer, as her soft red lips enticed him for a taste. He felt an inkling of familiarity as the scene played out, but for the life of him could not place why. The flames made her skin glow amber, with softer golden tones. His palms itched to reach out and lay over the small of her back, testing the warmth of her body below the thin gown.
His lips brushed against her forehead. His fingers relaxed a bit, allowing her to sit back. He gazed at her quietly, over come with an immense feeling he had only felt long ago.
"My wife cheated on me." He told her quietly. She stared back at him evenly, showing no signs of sympathy. "For years, actually, and I didn't even know."
She reached for his bandage, removing it with out a sound. Her hand drifted over his newly healed skin. But the miracle of the new shoulder didn't concern him at the moment. He paused, catching her hand in his.
"Are you to return the betrayal?" She asked softly, not making any attempt to move her hand.
He hesitated, before removing his hand from hers. "I don't know. Our marriage was over long ago."
Her fingers trailed down, drifting over the sensitive skin of him abdomen, as she searched his eyes soberly. "So much pain in your life, it's no wonder you weren't allowed to enjoy the dream." Too distracted by her wandering fingertips, he didn't question her statement. "It can change." Her palm came to rest on his chest. "All of this, if you just take the chance."
"What chance is that?" He asked though coin slit eyes.
She gazed back at him softly. "Why ask questions you already know the answer to?"
He paused before he sat up, leaning on his arm. His hand reached out again, entwining his fingers into her soft strands. His mouth brushed the corner of hers, before they pressed fully. Wanting more, but afraid of his sudden greed for lust, he turned his mouth away, letting out a frustrated sigh.
"I'm sorry." He whispered weakly.
She placed her hands on either side of his face, giving him a comforting smile. "Would you like some wine?"
Gulping, he nodded as she stood. He leaned back again, resting his hand behind his head, watching her as she poured the wine from its bottle. She turned to him, glasses in hand.
"Follow me." She said simply, turning and walking through a doorway he had not noticed until the very second she disappeared through it. He stood easily, no pain coming from that once wounded shoulder. He followed her into the room, once again taken back by mystery and beauty. The was no furniture, just a wooden floor with a square cut in the center, inside the hole, dark gleaming water, reflecting the moon, which shone through the single window on the other end of the room,
"What's this?" He asked, walking to the edge of the water hole.
She came up behind him, two white towels draped over her arms, yet still holding the glasses. "It's a bath." Gently she placed the two glasses down. "Please, take off your clothes."
He stared at her blankly for a second, before he laughed. "You can't be serious."
"I am."
"What good will a bath do me?"
"Cleanse you as well as relax you." She replied simply.
She did have a point, he thought, staring at the steam swirling up from the surface of the glistening tub.
"Alright." His fingers fumbled with his belt, suddenly nervous. He glanced up at her. "Turn around."
A tiny hint of a smile graced her lips before she turned from him. Quickly, he undressed and descended into the hot bath. An involuntary moan escaped him, as the tension from his body came to rest in the warm water.
Once he was in the bath, she turned and sat beside him on the floor. Her hand dipped into the water, producing a sponge. She clenched it above his back, allowing the hot water to trickle over his sore muscles.
"Who is the man your wife allowed into your bed?"
He wrapped his arms around his legs, allowing the soothing water to cascade down his back.
"An old comrade." He didn't know why he said it, he hated Vic. But, instead of feeling the immense anger he had before, now he only felt defeat. Sadness for the marriage the never truly existed. But all the anger was gone, because now he was with her. Now the world was moving slow. He was with her and it was all the mattered.
He heard her slip into the bath behind him. Her legs gently clamped his sides as her arm draped over his shoulders, reclining him back onto her. His head rested on her shoulder as he relaxed against her soft body. Her breasts pushed against his back as the rest of his body molded to fit the unique cushion she made for him.
A sudden feeling came over him, one which he had experienced many times around her. But this time he didn't fight it. After all, he was a man, and she, she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had bewitched him, enticed him into looking at the forbidden fruit, now all he had to do was taste it.
His eyes closed as her hands fluttered below the water, massaging his stomach muscles. "This must be heaven." He murmured against her jawbone.
Against his back he felt her chuckle. "Maybe," Her hands drifted up to his chest again. "For do you know what true heaven is?"
Allowing his hand to press against her thigh, his response came out in a slight moan. "No, what?"
"Truth." Her mouth pressed against his ear, her hot breath sending chills racing up his spine. She placed a trail of kisses on his shoulder. "Haven't you always wanted the answers? Why you have no memory of your past? Why you only know what people tell you? How come nothing seems right and everything moves so fast? Aren't those the questions that haunt your mind?" Her hands once again drifted down and teasingly massaged his lower belly. "There's more too. Where did you meet your wife? When were your children born? How did you get your job? How come people call you by a name you know isn't your own?" She paused, removing her hands and placing them on his shoulders. "But most of all, who am I and why do you know me?"
His body felt revved and primed for excitement. Blood hummed through his veins like never before. All at once he felt nervous, excited and scared, but most of all anxious. She had pushed him to the edge and now it was time for a taste.
He sat up from the comfy cradle of her body, to turn around and face her. Her skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, the ends of her hair wet, as her body glistened from the steam. Quietly he leaned forward, closing the gaps between their mouths. He captured her mouth with a great hunger, devouring it, conquering it as his own. Her skin felt slick and smooth below the water as his hands eagerly roved over each inch of it. He was loosing himself to her. He pulled away, short of breath, and slightly ashamed of his animalistic behavior.
Her own breath was short now as she stared back at him, the water level rising and falling on her chest with each gasp.
"All those things you said before, how did you know them?"
She seemed to survey him for a moment before she spoke. "Because I know all that has to do with you." The water covered her shoulders as she leaned forward to him. "I know you're ready. Please, say you're ready."
Her eyes seemed like delicate jade saucers, brimmed with tears, as she pleaded to him. He was starting to get that strange feeling again. How could she possibly know the answers he was looking for?
"Read for what?"
She paused again, her eyes scanning his face. "The truth… your future."
"Yes."
Slowly, she stood, glimmering rivets running down her body. He watched, in slight awe, as she lifted herself onto the bath, her legs still hanging into the water. Without a word, she called him forward, and he complied, standing himself. He rested his hands on either side of her thighs and kissed her lighter, more sensual this time. Deep down, he got the feeling that this was the end, he'd never see her again.
She reclined onto the floor, as he softly followed her, trying not to press her with his weight. This was now more than just sex, more than just getting back at an unfaithful wife. This was deeper. Poetry without words, music without sound, a dream becoming reality. He felt like he was praying at the temple of a Goddess. That this was not a carnal act of man, but instead an ancient ritual to better oneself. Leaving one life to fulfill another. It was all this, and even more.
His body felt light and euphoric as they caressed each other. Never before had it felt like this.
Her warm hand grasped onto him, guiding him inside her. With one motion, he felt a warmth flow throughout him, and he continued to move with her in this perfectly synched molding of their bodies. She clung to him, as if trying to keep their bodies in full contact as he rested his forehead on her shoulder. Something was building inside him, another feeling unlike any other. He had done this deed before, but this time it felt like the powers of the cosmos were within him, ready to explode. She was caught up in her own waves of pleasure, herself, seemingly on the verge of her own explosion.
A release let go inside her, as she trembled below him, her nails digging themselves into the skin of his shoulders. And then she pressed her lips to his ear again, and moaned something.
"Spike."
It was like a floodgate had been opened. Flashes of things he had forgot he had forgotten. A childhood, the syndicate, Julia, Vicious and the death that never really happened. A new life, Jet, Ed, Ein, all of it was rushing back… and her. Not like the Goddess he met, but the woman. The sarcastic, rude, foul-mouthed, pain in the ass woman who stole his cigarettes and his food. The annoying tag along who cheated at everything, always got into trouble, then bailed him out. The lonely, scared woman who he shared so much with. The beautiful, soft and caring woman whom he had fallen in love with.
"Faye."
It came out as a hoarse whisper. Grudgingly lifted his heavy eyelids, only to be blinded with hot, bright light.
**That's it! I'm thinking that not many people like this story, but I'm not sure. I think my review numbers are a little low, so I'm trying to get more people to read, and then get their opinions. So help a writer out! Anyway, things are going to start getting pretty strange around the Bebop. Check back a little later for more updates.**