Chapter 8
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.
.
.
Have you ever heard of Spike Spiegel?
Spike Spiegel is the example they always use when they warn us. He was a great man; he was our mentor, though few admit it. Well, this Spike Spiegel, this promising fighter, this extraordinary man, he fell in love with some girl. No one really took it seriously, you know? Well, it turned out that the girl was the lover of another man, this one was named Vicious. In the end, the girl ended up dying, and the two killed one another over it.
You want the moral of this story?
~~~
"Never fall in love," she smiled, shining radiantly out of her orb.
"Why not?" he brought his face in close proximity to hers.
She raised herself out of bed and stretched the slender silhouette of her body merging with the shadows on the wall, a thick succession of golden locks overflowing her shoulders and lower back.
"Because," she turned her face with a wicked grin, "All women are liars. Don't you know that?"
"You're a liar too, Julia?" He smiled, laying back. She walked to the window and undrew the shade. Blinding light filled the room and gently caressed her nude body. She stared out the window.
"I'm the worst of them all," she said in a voice he recognized as being neither comedic nor serious.
"Worst of them all, huh?"
"Yes," she turned and faced him with an angelic smile. Her clear blue eyes penetrated him. "I'm a heartbreaker."
"Pity that someone so beautiful could be so treacherous," his magnetic gaze did not leave her.
"I know," she smiled, "That's why I'm giving you a heads up."
"Too bad," he stood up and walked to her, putting his hands around her waist. Their naked bodies merged and for a moment became one. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest, her soft hair tickling his skin. A quiet pant escaped his lips. His fingers dug deeper into her flesh as she pushed herself closer to him. In a matter-of-fact way, she fitted perfectly inside of his arms, as if it was meant to be, as if the Great Spirit designed it that way.
"Too bad?" she moaned.
"Too late," he whispered into her ear, his hot breath quickly running down her spine, "Because I'm already in love with you."
She closed her eyes and did not move for a moment, she enjoyed his strength around her.
"Oh Spike," she whispered, "Love is so horrible."
"Horrible?" he smiled.
"Yes," she nodded, "Something so simple, so easy. So forbidden."
He caressed her earlobe, "It doesn't have to be forbidden."
"But it is," she said, "It's so forbidden that it almost feels wrong." She paused and reflected, "I love that word, 'almost.' It's the in-between phase. It's almost wrong, and it is almost right. And I love that we never have to define us."
"I love you, Julia," her whispered, "That's the only thing I know to be real. Everything else is just a dream, just a dream that I never wake up from."
"A dream," she whispered, feeling the world roll on her tongue, "a dream."
"Yes," he urged her, "a dream."
"It is more a nightmare than a dream, and I desperately want to wake up and understand reality. But the truth is, I'm probably not asleep. This---this is probably real. I wish I really was dreaming."
"You are, Julia," he whispered, "And wherever your physical form resides, remember that it is in my arms."
She pushed out of his grasp and leaned her palm against the wall, bowing her head. He stood motionless.
"I sometimes wish," she whispered, "that I was still a little girl, cozy in my bed, unaware of the world around me. I wonder if this is all it is, if, really, this existence is only a parallel to what truly is reality. People say that what is real is gruesome. But why does it have to be that way? When I watch a sunset, it is as real as it could possibly get, and it just so beautiful."
He leaned his head in and saw tears flowing out of her eyes.
"Do you love me, Julia?" he asked her softly, not knowing what propelled these words to his lips.
She closed her eyes, "Vicious."
Spike turned away with anger. "Vicious, that very name is like a curse."
"But it will haunt us until the day that we awake," she said resolutely, "and while it is so, what does it matter if I love you or not?"
"Then there is a possibility that you may not love me?" he asked bitterly.
She turned and faced him, her face stolid.
.
.
Spike Awoke before hearing her answer. He was sweat drenched and out of fuel. In the seat next to him, Faye was sound asleep. She looked so peaceful when she slept, Spike thought. He'd never noticed just how beautiful she was.
Why had he left it all behind that rainy afternoon? Why had he let his past get the best of him? Something that once he'd loved so much he suddenly despised. He despised Vicious, he despised the Syndicate, but most of all he despised her. Julia, that hidden force that drove him to insanity. She confused him, repelled him, even after her own death. Why was he so in love with her? He couldn't understand it. It seemed so clear to him before but now, the old riddles were beginning to sink in. He didn't know why he once loved her, yet simultaneously he didn't know why he now hated her.
She didn't do anything wrong. The burning shame of their so-called infidelity was of both of their devices. Julia betrayed Vicious as a lover; Spike betrayed Vicious as a friend. And then there was that day at the graveyard, when he waited for her impatiently, dreaming to run away from the dreary clutches of reality. Maybe that was why he hated her. Then again, she chose to flee to save both their lives. And then he had a thought.
Julia could have ended it all on that day.
But she didn't; she chose life over death. Or perhaps it was dreaming over awaking. All of their vows, all of their wishes, she shattered all that on that fateful afternoon. When she didn't show up six years earlier, his love for her had died. Only a taunting ghost remained, a taunting ghost and a hidden urge. Maybe that was why he did not embrace her when they finally did meet in that same fateful graveyard three years after their initial separation. Maybe it was because he didn't want to hold her, maybe it was because he no longer cared.
Then why was she still there?
Why did she continue to ring inside of his mind? Why did her eyes penetrate him from deep within? Why did he inwardly cry when she had fallen, holding her dear and feeling life drain out of him with every one of her last breaths? Why did he die when she did? Why did he choose to die? Why did he walk away from Jet, from Faye, from the Bebop, from a twisted and promising form of unconditional happiness to pursue a star that was already extinguished? If he didn't love her, why did he still care?
Julia was no longer existent in his life. The thought of her was like poison to him. He should have died that day on that staircase, he wanted to die. It was supposed to be that way. Yet, by some cruel chance, someone out there thought that it was too tragic for a character like Spike (in this magical world of fools' dreams) to fall in his final battle. Someone kept him alive in hopes that there was still something left of the man, something deep within. But he was no longer Spike, for he had lost the only thing that had ever seemed real. He tried to forget her, and yet the world seemed to scream her name.
Only one thing he wanted to remember.
"Then there is a possibility that you may not love me?"
Her answer to this was the single fragment he couldn't bring himself to recall.
~~
Faye opened her eyes to find Spike awoken. With an empty gaze he stared into the stars. His face was devoid of all emotion, and for a moment, he did not seem to be alive. She overlooked his frame in confusion and then touched his shoulder. With a shrug he drifted from his meditation and turned to her.
"What now?" he exclaimed irritably.
"Where are we?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
"We're stuck," he declared, "out of fuel."
"Not again," she leaned back in annoyance, "What are we supposed to do now?"
"Wait until some kind person helps us out."
She sighed, stretching out in the seat after a night of uncomfortable slumber, "This is the real world, Spike, there's no such things as kind people."
"Aren't you optimistic today!"
"We're stuck in outer space with no fuel and nothing to eat! This must be the happiest day of my life!"
He sighed, vacating his seat and walking to the back of the ship.
"Where are you going?" She exclaimed.
"As far away from you as possible, I'm afraid your negative energy just might rub off on me."
Faye gritted her teeth with anger, "Well if you're going to be like that, then fine!"
"I'm great you're content with that."
She stood up, her knuckles in fists, "You know, it would help if we could get along since we're stuck working together."
"We're stuck?" He asked cynically, "I don't know about you, but I'm not stuck to anything, I'm not bound by anything. I can leave you whenever I want."
"Really?" She screamed, "Then why not now?"
"Because we're stuck in the middle of nowhere."
"Five seconds ago you said we weren't stuck!"
He sighed angrily, "What is the matter with you?"
"What is the matter with you?" she retorted, "You're not like other people. If any other guy survived as miraculously as you did, if any ordinary Joe got reunited with an old comrade, they would not act as cocky and ungrateful as you. You know what's wrong with you? It's that you never know what you have until you lose it.
He didn't respond. Faye understood where to strike and at this moment she desperately wanted to hurt him.
"That's why that woman is dead now," she screamed, "Isn't it? Because you didn't use the moment that you had to run away with her. You were a cocky macho man who wanted to get revenge on someone not worthy of that sort of attention! Isn't that right? Isn't it?"
"Shut up!" He screamed from the top of his lungs. She didn't.
"You wanted to kill Vicious to prove things to yourself. In the end, you really did succeed in proving something. That you are a vindictive, stupid son of a bitch. Well, Spike, you didn't just kill Vicious, through your actions you killed your silly little girlfriend too. What was her name again? Julia?"
"No!" he lost his grip, "No don't you ever repeat her name ever again. Don't you dare, you're not worthy of that name."
"She's not worthy of me repeating her name!" Faye screamed knowing that it was not true.
"Julia is dead, she's gone from my life, she's in the past. I've learned my lesson Faye, and you aren't the right person to teach that anyway."
She stared at him, "Julia is dead, she's gone from your life, she's in the past? I've heard all those words before.
"Not like this. This time it really is over. It's over with her. And as soon as we land at the nearest gas station, it will be over with you too."
He turned away from her.
"Over with me?" she asked, disbelieving. She had learned to feel safety with Spike, and being on her own again was a frightening thing.
"Yes," he said, "The past stays in the past. That's the way things are."
"But Spike," she whispered.
"What, Faye?"
And then she said something she never thought she'd say; "I need you."
He turned around to look at her. What was in that secret gaze of hers?
"You need me, huh?"
"Yes," she nodded, "I need you. I need you to help me."
"Help you?"
"Those men in the bar that night, on Callisto? You remember? They're after me. I don't know why but I don't think I'd stay alive for very long if they catch up."
"Faye Valentine is on the run again, huh?"
"Not Faye Valentine," she shook her head, "Rose Shields."
"Oh yes, I forgot, Rose Shields."
"When my husband died," she whispered, "he told me that I was in grave danger. He told me to hide. He told me that if something ever happened to him, that I should contact someone who goes by the name Yan. He told me that only then would I be safe."
Spike stared at her, wide-eyed, not believing his ears, "Yan? Did you say Yan?"
"I've been looking for him ever since. But it's so hard to look when you don't know what you're looking for."
He did not respond.
"Spike?"
"Did your husband give you anything?" he spoke in a hurried pace, "Did he maybe say anything?"
"No, nothing!" she declared in confusion, "he just touched my hand and said he loved me."
"Touched your hand? Where? Show me?" He grabbed Faye and studied her long arm.
"M-my wrist, here---what's this about?"
Roughly holding her by the hand, Spike led Faye to the portable metal detector.
"Hey! That's radiation!" she exclaimed. He did not speak. Slowly he moved her wrist around the screen before catching a glimpse of something. He kneeled in to study it, and his eyebrows raised.
"What, Spike? What are you looking at?"
He mumbled something under his breath.
"What?" she exclaimed, trying to comprehend his words.
"There's something---I said there's something underneath your skin."
"What?" she screamed, "Get it out!"
Frantically she began fingering her arm, "Where is it?"
"You won't feel it," Spike said calmly, "It's practically microscopic."
"Oh God!" she cried, "Oh God! Tell me it's just a splinter!"
"It's a metal splinter," he said, "Or something slightly more important."
"Well, how can I remove it then?"
"You can't, not without someone who's got the skills."
"Well, who's got the skills?"
.
.
.
.
They were on Mars, guests in one of the usual town homes you would see just as you approached the gate. A middle aged, portly man sat with a magnifying glass, staring at Faye's wrist. Meanwhile, Spike gazed out the window, completely disinterested in the proceedings. In the neighboring room, a woman sat, reading to her children. Occasionally, the youngest one peered through the small opening in the door and giggled uncontrollably. The man ran his chubby fingers against the surface of Faye's skin, as if he was trying to understand something. All the while, he upheld a conversation.
"You haven't come to see me in a while, Spike," the man said.
"What can I say? I've been keeping myself busy." The man peered out of his spectacles and Faye and smiled.
"Maria, she's pregnant again."
"I noticed," Spike smiled, "and little Tara, she's all grown up."
"She's more of a pestering now than she was before."
"It must be hard when bruises turn into boys."
"Tell me about it," the man replied, "Now about this beauty here, she's got something in there, all right."
"Any ideas how it could have got there?"
"Probably protoplasm," he observed, "You bury something that small into a pinch, attach it to skin, and it will dissolve instantly. Won't leave a scar, won't even feel it."
"Protoplasm? I haven't ever even heard of it!" Faye exclaimed.
"Hospital workers use it all the time when they perform surgery. Police too, when they plant bugs on people. Imagine having a microscopic chip injected in you without so much as your suspicion. It is virtually impossible to detect with the unaided eye."
"So they use these things to track people?" She asked.
"Tracking is one of them. They also use it to quickly seal off wounds. Or, of course, there's one more possibility."
"It's a great hiding place for secret information," Spike cut in.
Faye looked up, "Secret Information?"
"We'll talk about it later, Faye," Spike said, turning back to the portly man, "Is there any way of removing it, Fad?"
"I have lasers," he smiled, "but none are precise enough. That little piece of metal in her arm is a custom job. You need some mad equipment to pry that little baby out."
"Who would think might have that equipment?"
"From the top of my head? INFO TECH---RoboWorld---YAN--- Decker, Inc---"
Faye sprang up, "Did you say YAN?"
"Yeah, one of the leading technological providers in the galaxy. Why? Does it ring a bell?"
She stared at Spike; he stared back, knowing what she was thinking.
"Something like that," Spike said, not leaving her eyes.
"Sorry I couldn't be much help" Fad said.
"It's okay, Fad," Spike replied, "Whatever's in her arm is better off staying in her arm for now. We gotta go now, okay? Tell Maria I said 'good luck with the baby.'"
"Oh come on!" the portly gentleman protested, "At least stay for tea!"
"We'd love to but we can't, sorry," Spike apologized, "We've got a lot to do."
"You always do," Fad smiled, "Ever since you were a little boy, running around, making trouble."
Spike grinned, "Some might say I'm still that little boy."
The two stared at one another for a moment, memories of the good old times dancing in their minds.
"Now, Fad, sorry, but I gotta say it. Whatever was said he today should stay here, okay?"
"Like you really have to ask," Fad smiled.
.
.
.
.
Have you ever heard of Spike Spiegel?
Spike Spiegel is the example they always use when they warn us. He was a great man; he was our mentor, though few admit it. Well, this Spike Spiegel, this promising fighter, this extraordinary man, he fell in love with some girl. No one really took it seriously, you know? Well, it turned out that the girl was the lover of another man, this one was named Vicious. In the end, the girl ended up dying, and the two killed one another over it.
You want the moral of this story?
~~~
"Never fall in love," she smiled, shining radiantly out of her orb.
"Why not?" he brought his face in close proximity to hers.
She raised herself out of bed and stretched the slender silhouette of her body merging with the shadows on the wall, a thick succession of golden locks overflowing her shoulders and lower back.
"Because," she turned her face with a wicked grin, "All women are liars. Don't you know that?"
"You're a liar too, Julia?" He smiled, laying back. She walked to the window and undrew the shade. Blinding light filled the room and gently caressed her nude body. She stared out the window.
"I'm the worst of them all," she said in a voice he recognized as being neither comedic nor serious.
"Worst of them all, huh?"
"Yes," she turned and faced him with an angelic smile. Her clear blue eyes penetrated him. "I'm a heartbreaker."
"Pity that someone so beautiful could be so treacherous," his magnetic gaze did not leave her.
"I know," she smiled, "That's why I'm giving you a heads up."
"Too bad," he stood up and walked to her, putting his hands around her waist. Their naked bodies merged and for a moment became one. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against his chest, her soft hair tickling his skin. A quiet pant escaped his lips. His fingers dug deeper into her flesh as she pushed herself closer to him. In a matter-of-fact way, she fitted perfectly inside of his arms, as if it was meant to be, as if the Great Spirit designed it that way.
"Too bad?" she moaned.
"Too late," he whispered into her ear, his hot breath quickly running down her spine, "Because I'm already in love with you."
She closed her eyes and did not move for a moment, she enjoyed his strength around her.
"Oh Spike," she whispered, "Love is so horrible."
"Horrible?" he smiled.
"Yes," she nodded, "Something so simple, so easy. So forbidden."
He caressed her earlobe, "It doesn't have to be forbidden."
"But it is," she said, "It's so forbidden that it almost feels wrong." She paused and reflected, "I love that word, 'almost.' It's the in-between phase. It's almost wrong, and it is almost right. And I love that we never have to define us."
"I love you, Julia," her whispered, "That's the only thing I know to be real. Everything else is just a dream, just a dream that I never wake up from."
"A dream," she whispered, feeling the world roll on her tongue, "a dream."
"Yes," he urged her, "a dream."
"It is more a nightmare than a dream, and I desperately want to wake up and understand reality. But the truth is, I'm probably not asleep. This---this is probably real. I wish I really was dreaming."
"You are, Julia," he whispered, "And wherever your physical form resides, remember that it is in my arms."
She pushed out of his grasp and leaned her palm against the wall, bowing her head. He stood motionless.
"I sometimes wish," she whispered, "that I was still a little girl, cozy in my bed, unaware of the world around me. I wonder if this is all it is, if, really, this existence is only a parallel to what truly is reality. People say that what is real is gruesome. But why does it have to be that way? When I watch a sunset, it is as real as it could possibly get, and it just so beautiful."
He leaned his head in and saw tears flowing out of her eyes.
"Do you love me, Julia?" he asked her softly, not knowing what propelled these words to his lips.
She closed her eyes, "Vicious."
Spike turned away with anger. "Vicious, that very name is like a curse."
"But it will haunt us until the day that we awake," she said resolutely, "and while it is so, what does it matter if I love you or not?"
"Then there is a possibility that you may not love me?" he asked bitterly.
She turned and faced him, her face stolid.
.
.
Spike Awoke before hearing her answer. He was sweat drenched and out of fuel. In the seat next to him, Faye was sound asleep. She looked so peaceful when she slept, Spike thought. He'd never noticed just how beautiful she was.
Why had he left it all behind that rainy afternoon? Why had he let his past get the best of him? Something that once he'd loved so much he suddenly despised. He despised Vicious, he despised the Syndicate, but most of all he despised her. Julia, that hidden force that drove him to insanity. She confused him, repelled him, even after her own death. Why was he so in love with her? He couldn't understand it. It seemed so clear to him before but now, the old riddles were beginning to sink in. He didn't know why he once loved her, yet simultaneously he didn't know why he now hated her.
She didn't do anything wrong. The burning shame of their so-called infidelity was of both of their devices. Julia betrayed Vicious as a lover; Spike betrayed Vicious as a friend. And then there was that day at the graveyard, when he waited for her impatiently, dreaming to run away from the dreary clutches of reality. Maybe that was why he hated her. Then again, she chose to flee to save both their lives. And then he had a thought.
Julia could have ended it all on that day.
But she didn't; she chose life over death. Or perhaps it was dreaming over awaking. All of their vows, all of their wishes, she shattered all that on that fateful afternoon. When she didn't show up six years earlier, his love for her had died. Only a taunting ghost remained, a taunting ghost and a hidden urge. Maybe that was why he did not embrace her when they finally did meet in that same fateful graveyard three years after their initial separation. Maybe it was because he didn't want to hold her, maybe it was because he no longer cared.
Then why was she still there?
Why did she continue to ring inside of his mind? Why did her eyes penetrate him from deep within? Why did he inwardly cry when she had fallen, holding her dear and feeling life drain out of him with every one of her last breaths? Why did he die when she did? Why did he choose to die? Why did he walk away from Jet, from Faye, from the Bebop, from a twisted and promising form of unconditional happiness to pursue a star that was already extinguished? If he didn't love her, why did he still care?
Julia was no longer existent in his life. The thought of her was like poison to him. He should have died that day on that staircase, he wanted to die. It was supposed to be that way. Yet, by some cruel chance, someone out there thought that it was too tragic for a character like Spike (in this magical world of fools' dreams) to fall in his final battle. Someone kept him alive in hopes that there was still something left of the man, something deep within. But he was no longer Spike, for he had lost the only thing that had ever seemed real. He tried to forget her, and yet the world seemed to scream her name.
Only one thing he wanted to remember.
"Then there is a possibility that you may not love me?"
Her answer to this was the single fragment he couldn't bring himself to recall.
~~
Faye opened her eyes to find Spike awoken. With an empty gaze he stared into the stars. His face was devoid of all emotion, and for a moment, he did not seem to be alive. She overlooked his frame in confusion and then touched his shoulder. With a shrug he drifted from his meditation and turned to her.
"What now?" he exclaimed irritably.
"Where are we?" she asked, rubbing her eyes.
"We're stuck," he declared, "out of fuel."
"Not again," she leaned back in annoyance, "What are we supposed to do now?"
"Wait until some kind person helps us out."
She sighed, stretching out in the seat after a night of uncomfortable slumber, "This is the real world, Spike, there's no such things as kind people."
"Aren't you optimistic today!"
"We're stuck in outer space with no fuel and nothing to eat! This must be the happiest day of my life!"
He sighed, vacating his seat and walking to the back of the ship.
"Where are you going?" She exclaimed.
"As far away from you as possible, I'm afraid your negative energy just might rub off on me."
Faye gritted her teeth with anger, "Well if you're going to be like that, then fine!"
"I'm great you're content with that."
She stood up, her knuckles in fists, "You know, it would help if we could get along since we're stuck working together."
"We're stuck?" He asked cynically, "I don't know about you, but I'm not stuck to anything, I'm not bound by anything. I can leave you whenever I want."
"Really?" She screamed, "Then why not now?"
"Because we're stuck in the middle of nowhere."
"Five seconds ago you said we weren't stuck!"
He sighed angrily, "What is the matter with you?"
"What is the matter with you?" she retorted, "You're not like other people. If any other guy survived as miraculously as you did, if any ordinary Joe got reunited with an old comrade, they would not act as cocky and ungrateful as you. You know what's wrong with you? It's that you never know what you have until you lose it.
He didn't respond. Faye understood where to strike and at this moment she desperately wanted to hurt him.
"That's why that woman is dead now," she screamed, "Isn't it? Because you didn't use the moment that you had to run away with her. You were a cocky macho man who wanted to get revenge on someone not worthy of that sort of attention! Isn't that right? Isn't it?"
"Shut up!" He screamed from the top of his lungs. She didn't.
"You wanted to kill Vicious to prove things to yourself. In the end, you really did succeed in proving something. That you are a vindictive, stupid son of a bitch. Well, Spike, you didn't just kill Vicious, through your actions you killed your silly little girlfriend too. What was her name again? Julia?"
"No!" he lost his grip, "No don't you ever repeat her name ever again. Don't you dare, you're not worthy of that name."
"She's not worthy of me repeating her name!" Faye screamed knowing that it was not true.
"Julia is dead, she's gone from my life, she's in the past. I've learned my lesson Faye, and you aren't the right person to teach that anyway."
She stared at him, "Julia is dead, she's gone from your life, she's in the past? I've heard all those words before.
"Not like this. This time it really is over. It's over with her. And as soon as we land at the nearest gas station, it will be over with you too."
He turned away from her.
"Over with me?" she asked, disbelieving. She had learned to feel safety with Spike, and being on her own again was a frightening thing.
"Yes," he said, "The past stays in the past. That's the way things are."
"But Spike," she whispered.
"What, Faye?"
And then she said something she never thought she'd say; "I need you."
He turned around to look at her. What was in that secret gaze of hers?
"You need me, huh?"
"Yes," she nodded, "I need you. I need you to help me."
"Help you?"
"Those men in the bar that night, on Callisto? You remember? They're after me. I don't know why but I don't think I'd stay alive for very long if they catch up."
"Faye Valentine is on the run again, huh?"
"Not Faye Valentine," she shook her head, "Rose Shields."
"Oh yes, I forgot, Rose Shields."
"When my husband died," she whispered, "he told me that I was in grave danger. He told me to hide. He told me that if something ever happened to him, that I should contact someone who goes by the name Yan. He told me that only then would I be safe."
Spike stared at her, wide-eyed, not believing his ears, "Yan? Did you say Yan?"
"I've been looking for him ever since. But it's so hard to look when you don't know what you're looking for."
He did not respond.
"Spike?"
"Did your husband give you anything?" he spoke in a hurried pace, "Did he maybe say anything?"
"No, nothing!" she declared in confusion, "he just touched my hand and said he loved me."
"Touched your hand? Where? Show me?" He grabbed Faye and studied her long arm.
"M-my wrist, here---what's this about?"
Roughly holding her by the hand, Spike led Faye to the portable metal detector.
"Hey! That's radiation!" she exclaimed. He did not speak. Slowly he moved her wrist around the screen before catching a glimpse of something. He kneeled in to study it, and his eyebrows raised.
"What, Spike? What are you looking at?"
He mumbled something under his breath.
"What?" she exclaimed, trying to comprehend his words.
"There's something---I said there's something underneath your skin."
"What?" she screamed, "Get it out!"
Frantically she began fingering her arm, "Where is it?"
"You won't feel it," Spike said calmly, "It's practically microscopic."
"Oh God!" she cried, "Oh God! Tell me it's just a splinter!"
"It's a metal splinter," he said, "Or something slightly more important."
"Well, how can I remove it then?"
"You can't, not without someone who's got the skills."
"Well, who's got the skills?"
.
.
.
.
They were on Mars, guests in one of the usual town homes you would see just as you approached the gate. A middle aged, portly man sat with a magnifying glass, staring at Faye's wrist. Meanwhile, Spike gazed out the window, completely disinterested in the proceedings. In the neighboring room, a woman sat, reading to her children. Occasionally, the youngest one peered through the small opening in the door and giggled uncontrollably. The man ran his chubby fingers against the surface of Faye's skin, as if he was trying to understand something. All the while, he upheld a conversation.
"You haven't come to see me in a while, Spike," the man said.
"What can I say? I've been keeping myself busy." The man peered out of his spectacles and Faye and smiled.
"Maria, she's pregnant again."
"I noticed," Spike smiled, "and little Tara, she's all grown up."
"She's more of a pestering now than she was before."
"It must be hard when bruises turn into boys."
"Tell me about it," the man replied, "Now about this beauty here, she's got something in there, all right."
"Any ideas how it could have got there?"
"Probably protoplasm," he observed, "You bury something that small into a pinch, attach it to skin, and it will dissolve instantly. Won't leave a scar, won't even feel it."
"Protoplasm? I haven't ever even heard of it!" Faye exclaimed.
"Hospital workers use it all the time when they perform surgery. Police too, when they plant bugs on people. Imagine having a microscopic chip injected in you without so much as your suspicion. It is virtually impossible to detect with the unaided eye."
"So they use these things to track people?" She asked.
"Tracking is one of them. They also use it to quickly seal off wounds. Or, of course, there's one more possibility."
"It's a great hiding place for secret information," Spike cut in.
Faye looked up, "Secret Information?"
"We'll talk about it later, Faye," Spike said, turning back to the portly man, "Is there any way of removing it, Fad?"
"I have lasers," he smiled, "but none are precise enough. That little piece of metal in her arm is a custom job. You need some mad equipment to pry that little baby out."
"Who would think might have that equipment?"
"From the top of my head? INFO TECH---RoboWorld---YAN--- Decker, Inc---"
Faye sprang up, "Did you say YAN?"
"Yeah, one of the leading technological providers in the galaxy. Why? Does it ring a bell?"
She stared at Spike; he stared back, knowing what she was thinking.
"Something like that," Spike said, not leaving her eyes.
"Sorry I couldn't be much help" Fad said.
"It's okay, Fad," Spike replied, "Whatever's in her arm is better off staying in her arm for now. We gotta go now, okay? Tell Maria I said 'good luck with the baby.'"
"Oh come on!" the portly gentleman protested, "At least stay for tea!"
"We'd love to but we can't, sorry," Spike apologized, "We've got a lot to do."
"You always do," Fad smiled, "Ever since you were a little boy, running around, making trouble."
Spike grinned, "Some might say I'm still that little boy."
The two stared at one another for a moment, memories of the good old times dancing in their minds.
"Now, Fad, sorry, but I gotta say it. Whatever was said he today should stay here, okay?"
"Like you really have to ask," Fad smiled.