Alive yet not Living
I.
I got bones beneath my skin, and mister…
There's a skeleton in every mans house
Beneath the dust and love and sweat that hangs on everybody /center
There's a dead man trying to get out
Please help me stay awake, I'm falling…
Neon pink letters bearing the words "Rester House" were reflected in the windows of a beat up Honda as the cold, Callisto winds let an empty cup dance along the sidewalk.
It looked dangerous, like the words of a temptress or the song of a siren. The kind of place you would choose if you were going to run from something. The kind of place that you could hide in, the kind of place whre nobody would ask questions. The kind of place where, after leaving, you wonder the next morning if it ever existed at all.
She was freezing.
The bell on the dorr tinkled as she entered the bar, and she was greeted by the scent of old cigarette smoke and stale alchohol. Eyes from every corner of the room scraped her coat, cold hands dirty with longing for the broken woman with folden hair. She took her seat, last barstool, and lit up. She watched as her cigarette transformed into smoke and she watched the gradual transformation of herself to ash.
It's all... a dream.
Yeah, just a bad dream
"I'll take a cowboy," She said softly, in a voice that cracked and burned like embers dying in a fire.
The bartender looked up, startled, and dropped the rag he had been holding, eyes widening. "Didn't expect to see you in here again..."
"I'm suprised that you remember me..."
"You're hard to forget."
"I'm flattered"
The bartender slid the glass down to her. She thanked him softly, as her eyes ran across the bar. It was all the same, the same as when she had first waltzed in. Before, she had been looking for a drink and a place to hide. Before, she had found so much more.
"Gren..."
"Excuse me?"
"A man used to play saxophone here. Went by the name of Gren. Is he still around?"
The bartender paused to look at the woman strangely. "Yeah, I remember him," he finally said, "Not too long ago, the man just... stopped coming. I heard it was some zipcraft accident, but you never know. May have had something to do with all the foreigners that came around."
"He's dead..." Julia whispered, almost a question more than a statement.
"Most likely." The man stood silent for a moment. "Callisto... it's a dangerous place."
"Foreigners?"
"Martians, I think."
"He played the most beautiful songs..."
•
Two Weeks Earlier:
She could see it. The coldness. To Julia it was something that she could see, even before she felt it. Surrounding. Overbearing, a forgotten bleakness that seemed to inhabit dreary room stained the color grey. As if they were paintings. So still...
Blip. Blip.
The lonely sound of a machine taking her pulse was a disturbing and harsh reminder of the fact that she, Julia, was alive.
Blip. Blip.
She opened her eyes. Blurred vision. The machine beeped. Her heart sunk. The dream was not over, she realized, the nightmare continued, and no matter how hard she tried she could not wake up. She tried tried to sit up, yet a sharp pain in her upper back made her fall back onto the hospital bed, weak. A plump nurse passed by, surprised to see Julia awake.
"You've aroused! Good for you!" The nurse exclaimed, poking her head in before entering the room.
"Where... am I?"
"Tharsis Medical," she told her with a cheery smile, as she straightened Julia's blankets and checked one of the machines behind her. "On Mars."
Julia looked down. "I died."
"You're lucky you're alive."
"No... I died."
"This place is hardly heaven for an angel like yourself." The cheery nurse smiled. "Again, you're lucky someone found you in time. Your heart had stopped beating, yet Tarsis Medical is one of the only clinics in the Sol that has he technology to save you. Oh, these modern miracles... people live longer, healthier lives. Why, we had a man in yesterday who had been asleep for over 150 years! Cyrogenics, the man had died decades ago! It's really a blessing..." The nurse babbled on as Julia's mind wandered. How could she be alive? She racked her mind for the last thing she could remember... Spike. His face. His Eyes. His Voice. "Be happy... he's paying for all of your bills. Oh... what was his name... began with a V..." The nurses voice snapped her out of her memory.
'Vicious."
"Yes, that was it." The nurse began to prepare an IV.
"Strange name, if you don't mind me saying. Your lover?"
"Something like that."
•
Callisto. Julia stared into her drink, recalling the time that had pased since she had awoken in the hospital.
Why did he save my life?
Vicious. Had he wanted to kill her, that rainy day, or had his men simply been instructed to fire at will?
And Gren. Spike.
Play me that song, Mr. Saxophone. Play me that song and I'll let you see me smile. I love that lilting tune, reminds me of secrets I have stashed away. I close my eyes, it's raining on roses. I can see us, the air is warm and your skin is soft. Your hands are on my back. It's raining on roses. I love this lilting tune.
Oh, God, she hated the memories now. She tried to keep them away, locked in boxes, but now they were all slipping out, her past slowly bleeding into the present. Tears rolled down her face, regret pouring like rain in a sleazy bar in the middle of the night.
I'm past redemtion, just play me the song.
•
"Give me another one," she drawled, raising the hand that wasn't holding the cigarette.
"Don't you think you've had enough?" The bartender replied, taking her glass.
Faye hiccuped.
"I've had enough of it all."
"We're about to close up for tonight, lady. Why don't you go on home?"
"I got nowhere t ogo."
A bunch of drunks hooted from the back. "We can fix that!" They laughed.
"I'm sure you can, bigshot..." She staggered out of the bar after flicking her cigarette in their direction.
She didn't know why she always came back. Late at night, stumbling in, the door always left open for her. Sometimes she would saunter into Jets room, drunk as hell and looking for favors. He would only sigh, get out of bed, and help her into the kitchen as she whispered in his ear. He would make her some food, give her some water, go back to bed. Never a complaint, never a word.
He didn't know why he let her in. Letting her come and go, like a cat, wandering in and out whenever she pleased. Like it was his responsibility to make sure she was eating right. Like it was his responsibility to hold her hair back as she stooped over the toilet bowl and threw up.
Did he owe it to himself, as if he were trying to gain redemption for some past deed? Did he owe it to himself to take care of this broken shell of a woman who had nothing left to give?
And Jet...
He spend more and more time with those damn trees. After all, they were the only living things that would never leave him. The only living things that truly appreciated the painstaking care he gave them. What he did for them. And although he never heard so much as a thank you from anyone, he knew at least the bonsai trees were grateful. And he didn't mind tending to them, giving them all they ever desired. He loved having something to take care of. To protect. And his plants never questioned his descisions, were always obedient, were always faithful. Always grateful.
Or perhaps that was all bullshit. After all, they were only plants. But seeing each healthy, green leaf made him think twice about chucking the damn things into the void of space, which was more than what he could say for his roomate.
So he sat on the bench, clipping here, pruning there, making each and every one absolutely perfect. Down to each tiny leaf. Utter perfection. Utter control. And sometimes he would talk to them, in slow, menial words. Sometimes not even whole sentences, just things he needed to hear...
"Faye was right all along." He told them, taking a swig of whiskey. "Even after living with him for so long she still believed he'd screw her over. Yeah, well, he screwed us all over. Worst of all, we knew it. We knew it damn well..."
That Spike, nothing but trouble.
"Why'd I let him do it? Damn Spike. Damn you." He took another swig. Jet paused, a slow grin spreading across his face. Amusement. "Hey, you ever hear this story?"
He stared at his plants, as if he expected an answer. Random. He was feeling random. He felt like telling a story and it had been a long time since he had told anyone a story. Jet loved his stories. Made him feel important. Made him feel wise, if only to himself. And he would begin to speak, the words flowing out, he loved to watch the look on a childs face as he put together the intricate threads of a tale.
His plants were hardly children but he thought they would do.
"It's about Ronin.You know, masterless samurai. Heh. It's almost an oxymoron when you think about it. Something that did exist, but shouldn't have, that's what ronin were. Man, I haven't heard this story in years. But yeah, after a samurai's master was killed, it was the samurai's duty to kill themselves, as they no longer had anyone to serve. Those who didn't were looked down upon in shame, living on the outskirts of society, lawless desperadoes without a place to go. They only had their swords and the clothes on their back."
"Well, one of these Ronin stories is about.. honor. Hell, they're all about honor. People back then, they couldn't- i hic /i get enough of it. Not like today, when everyone walks around shameless and stupid." Jet shook his head, still smiling. He himself felt kind of stupid, talking to himself like this... "Well, this Shogun needed to impress his Emporer, so he decdied to send him a gift. And the emporer sent a man- Kira- to accept this gift. Well, Kira begame furious with the Shogun for not presenting him with an important enough gift. He was cruel to the Shogun, abused him, riduculed the poor man in front of his samurai and the people of the lands, which was the cruelest thing one could do to another- take away their honor. And one day, the Shogun couldn't take the cruelty anymore. He drew his sword, injuring Kira. Back then, drawing one's weapon was a capital offense, and the Shogun was sentenced to die. They were picky like that. The Shogun was sentenced to commit Seppuku, or ritual suicide. Kira recieved no punishment."
"Well, a bunch of the Shoguns followers begame pretty pissed off. They were angered by Kira's un-samurai like behavior. They thought the Shoguns punishment had been too harsh. And when a Shogun died, his assets- including his samurai- were to be destroyed. His samurai were also ordered to commit Seppuku, along with their master. Yet the samurai refused. They became ronin."
"For two years, these samurai were ridiculed and abused by society, labeled as cowards, without honor or dignity. They disguised themselfs as merchants, street vendors, and drunks to gather whatever information they could on Kira. And one day, they stormed Kira's mansion. They killed all of Kira's guards and warriors, loosing none of their own. The ronin found Kira, hiding, and they beheaded him."
He paused.
"The story isn't over yet. The 47 ronin were brought before the Emporer, who was deeply impressed by their loyalty. And then, the samurai did the unthinkable. All 47 of them-simultaneously- commit seppuku. Took their own lives, as they had been ordered to do in the beginning."
Jet contemplated this for a moment.
"That is loyalty. That is true honor."
Jet sighed and looked at his plants, bottle in hand. He imagined Ed, her goofy looking goggles and vermillion hair, bright eyes looking up at him in awe and delight, the way she always looked when Jet shared a folktale or story.
"I was going to tell that story to Ed. She would have enjoyed it. Always did."
He wondered who was telling her stories now.
•
Faye reclined on the ochre yellow couch, smoking. A dazed look played across her eyes as her cigarette melted into ashes between her fingertips. She barely looked up when Jet hobbled into the room, his leg still bandaged.
"Nice story," sge stated apathetically, "Do you always talk to your plants like that?"
"You're sober." He noted, crossly. "Lemme guess. You ran out of booze money."
"It's called schizophrenia." Faye said, a tiny smirk playing across crimson lips. "You should really get that checked out. I mean, come on. Talking to yourself."
"Look, Faye." He said gruffly, "My leg is shot. Spike is gone. You're going to have to start pulling your own weight around here if you wanna stay."
Faye stopped and looked at him, mid smoke.
"You never asked me to leave." She said, squaring him in the eye.
"Yeah, well, for the past two weeks I've been feeding and sheltering you, and that refrigerator is emptying itself pretty damn quick."
"It's not like I have anywhere else to go!" She cried, flinging her cigarette across the room and standing up, clearly pissed off. "Yeah, well, you had better find somewhere fast."
"I thought we were comrades!" She said accusingly, "Comrades are supposed to help each other."
"Exactly!"
•
"Howdy all you 10 million cowboys in the Solar System!"
"Welcome to Big Shot for the Bounty Hunters!"
"Well, you may have heard that Big Shot was cancelled recently!" Judy's peppy voice rang out, "But it turns out that were the only source of infor for bounty heads in the entire sol! With us gone, all you cowboys out there were without your info, so the ISSP is now funding bigshot! Unfortunately, our dear Punch rode off into the sunset, but we've got a brand new host for you all!"
Faye raised an eyebrow as Judy swooned and giggled.
"Howdy, ya'll!" A blond looking man dressed in tacky western clothing tipped his hat. "I'm Cowboy Andy, and I'll be giving you the 411 on a host of criminals with bounties bigger'n Texas!"
"Wow, you're quite a Cowboy!"
"And you're quite a pretty 'lil missy yourself!"
"Oh, stop it!"
Dear God, is the entire show going to go on like this? Faye thought to herself as she lit another cigarette. Why was she watching this shit? It's not like she was a cowboy anymore... but glaring at the brightened screen and staic faux emotion, she half expected to see Spike, across from her, watching the same thing through narrowed eyes.
"Our first bounty on the list is an ex-syndicate agent assumed dead! Wow, she's really pretty!" Judy cried, as the mug shot came up.
"She's worth a whopping 40,000,000 Woolongs! Someone must really want her back!" Andy exclaimed, as Judy cried out her name and a mug shot appeared on the screen.
"Julia Alanis Victoria Eochaida!"
"Julia!" Faye cried out, throwing her cigarette across the room violently. "It... she's... he said... she's dead!" She leaned across the table in disbelief.
"You're not!" Jet appeared in the doorway. "Faye, you know dame well that my leg is shot up and your ship's a pile of scrap metal. There is no way."
"It's her." Faye whispered, staring at the picture. It was her. Julia. The angel. The demon. Spike. She was Spike.
"Who?" Jet asked, hobbling closer. He too stopped and stared.
"Julia."
•
"The fact that she's alive is not an invitation to go out looking for her, Faye." Jet said, staring at the hammered steel floor. "Even if you could she's not yours to find. She's the past. She's a ghost. Leave her and everything else where they belong."
"You can't arguel with 40 million woolongs." Faye said, leaning on her arm. "It doesn't matter where she came from."
"This time it does." Jet told her firmly. "It matters."
"Where else will we get the money?" Faye cried, throwing herself against the table, fists flat against cold metal. "You told me yesterday-"
"A job, Faye." He replied, "Bounty hunting is a freelance hob, and when it doesn't work it doesn't work. One of us is going to have to get a real job. And seeing how you're the only one who can actually walk..."
"It's not just the money, Jet!" Faye replied angrily. "It's a little bit more!"
Jet seemed to catch on. He sighed, then frowned. "Spike is dead, Faye." He told her gravely, "His star fell."
Faye raised an eyebrow. It wasn't about Spike. Well, it was a little bit about Spike. It was about a lot of things. "If that jerk can survive getting shot up, stabbed, and then fall out of a 12 story cathedral and still have strength enough to piss me off, he can live through anything." She said, "But it's not about him! That's not the pont!"
"Then what is it, Faye?" He asked her, looking into her eyes. "What is it?"
"I'm a cowgirl."
She didn't know why she needed this. A million questions raced through her mind, a million stories, a million tears, a million lies. She needed this woman, and not just for the money. Julia was... Faye couldn't describe her. She needed to find out if Julia was just a phantasm, an illusion that found it's way out of Spike's heart and into reality. Was Julia some kind of drug, and once you shot her up your veins you couldn't possibly let go? And she was so much more than an addiction, so much more than a past, so much more than a ghost and so much more than a woman. She was Julia. And Faye needed her, because she knew that Julia would have an answer that she herself didn't know the question to. Julia was Spike.
"I'm a cowgirl." Faye repeated, "And I need to find this girl."
•
She started up her ship. She had a hole in her left thruster, but maybe it would be enough to at least get her to Tharsis. That's where she would start, she would gather information from there.
"Jet!" She cried, "I'm ready to take off!"
"Dammit Faye!" Jet yelled down at her, "Your ship won't even make it to Tharsis! It's going to combust! Just-"
"OPEN THE DAMN HATCH OR I'LL SLAM THIS THING THROUGH IT!"
She began pressing buttons rapidly after takeoff. Sweat stuck her legs to the hard plastic of the rubling seat, she leaned forward, hair in front of her face as she cursed to herself.
"Latitude 43.. north a little bit..." She muttered to herself, trying to comprehend the map and stop her ship from spinning out of controw.
A smoky trail was emitting from the tail end of her ship. She swore again. Red numbers and signals flashed and blinked on her screen. But she couldn't turn back.
"Dammit, Faye..." She said to herself, "Why are you doing this? Is it for Spike?" She scowled. Jet was rubbing off on her, she thought to herself as she rubbed her forehead. His story has really gotten to her, and she scolded herself for letting it. Honor? She didn't need it. The only honor she had ever known was the kind that she had taken advantage of in others. "Honor is for the weak, Faye." She said aloud. "It will only drag you down."
But her mind flashed back to that day. She had only been paired up with Jet and Spike for a couple of weeks, maybe a month. And she had run off, to do some stupid thing, and gotten herself caught. She had walked into a trap, and Jet wouldn't help her. But Spike... she would never forget Spike's voice when he told her that he would come get ger,
"Don't take it personally." He had said.
But nobody had ever really cared enough to save her life before.
"OH SHIT!" The ship roared as a massive jerk caused Faye to scream, and large peices of crimson metal slammed into her windsheild, causing the safety glass to crack, hundreds of peices of glass suspended within each other as the tiny zipcraft tumbled, crumpled, hurtled to the ground... Faye closed her eyes.
•
"I'm sorry to hear about your partner." The man on the phone said sincerely. Jet looked at him, sadly.
"Yeah, well," Jet replied somberly, "It was inevirable..."
"You wanted to know what was going on with the bounties?"
"Yeah." Jet said, "There was a syndicate agent on the list. I thought the ISSP didn't bother with the Red Dragons."
"We don't. We didn't. The major syndicates usually bribe and blackmail their way into the ISSP, managing to influence their descisions to a great extent. Sometimes a few guys slip by, but the ISSP is tired of being under the wing of the crime rings. The Dragons are in a tough place right now, a coup was staged, but the man who won was nearly killed, and inner politics stepped in. They're weak."
"I see."
"We're targeting low-level agents, the ones the bosses don't or haven't had much contact with. If we can get them down, then we can move up to the bigger ones before they know what's going on. They're preoccupied with bigger matters than the ISSP arresting a bunch of useless punks."
"So you're going to bring them down from the bottom?"
"That's the plan." Jet's old friend replied, "But Jet, I would leave it alone. The ISSP hasn't exactly been making good decisions lately. There's no telling how this could turn out."
