Gunshot Serenade

A/N: Four days! Yay! This chapter is... interesting. The Alex is back, though. I hope you guys enjoy, and thanxs so much to all of the reviewers! I know I say this every time I post, but really. I love you guys so much!

Disclaimer: Who? Me?

Chapter Fifteen:

Tulip Lamentation

Nobody said it was easy
Oh, it's such a shame for us to part
Nobody said it was easy
No one ever said it would be this hard
Oh, take me back to the start

-Coldplay

It had been a long time since he had been here.

The weather was good for a trip like this. Grey, but not raining just yet.

Spike sighed and scratched the back of his head with one hand, the other gripping tight to the bouquet of flowers he had bought on impulse outside the gates. For once, they were tulips.

He figured after all the years of roses, she'd be sick of them.

These had a little more color.

Spike knelt down and placed them at the base of her tombstone, avoiding the gnarled branches of the tree that grew just over her grave. A cherry blossom tree. In the spring, it would be beautiful.

Now it was dead. Like everything else.

It was a cemetery, after all. It was her cemetery.

Spike lifted his hand to the headstone, tracing the letters with his brow furrowed. That was her name, alright.

Proof that she really was dead. Incase the weight of her limp body in his arms hadn't been enough.

It had been.

Spike stood and took a few paces backward across frostbitten grass. The flowers really were nice. The only color in the entire graveyard.

"Those look good, Spike," A man said from behind him. "It's nice that you still visit her grave after all these years."

The crunching of footsteps moved closer until Alexander King was standing at Spike's side. He looked almost angelic standing there in the drizzly morning light, in his black slacks, maroon sweater, and tailored leather jacket.

Spike was silent, head down, hands in his pockets.

Alex sighed, his breath a cloud of condensation. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of expensive cigarettes, offering one to Spike.

He just shook his head.

Shrugging Alex placed it in his mouth. His lighter flared. The cigarette caught. Breath in, breath out. The air smelled instantly of smoke.

"You know," Alex said, "You're looking at Julia's name on that tombstone. But that's not really the name you're seeing."

Spike's eyebrow arched, "Then what is the name I'm seeing?" Spike asked, his voice cool.

The handsome man just stood, smiling and smoking quietly for a minute, watching Spike's face. "She isn't dead yet, Spike. Maybe there's still time."

"Time ran out three years ago. I've made my choice."

Alex laughed quietly. "You say that like you can't take it back. You treat the past like it's sacred and the future like it's never coming. The way I see it, you've got a couple years to be alive, and then it's over. Why bother with what's already gone?"

Spike looked up from the ground, moving his gaze to Alex's face. He shrugged. "The past is all I have. It's all I am."

The cigarette smoke squirmed upward, kissing Alexander King's light smile before forming a halo around his flawless visage.

"The past is like a net for you, Spike," He said quietly, carefully. "It catches you when you fall down, lifts you back up. The only people you've loved are in the past, bound there because you refuse to let go. But the net is wrapping tight around you Spike. Someone has to come and lift you out before you starve."

Silence.

Russet eyes moved to the sky, grey and stormy. "I take it you talked to Amber."

Alex took a long pull on his cigarette, letting the smoke drift lazily out of his mouth. "Yes. I did."

"Luke is dead."

"Believe me, I know." A smile. Blinding white teeth. "It would have happened eventually."

"How is she?" Spike asked.

"She'll survive," Was Alex's answer, "And she'll forgive you. Trust you again, even. You know Amber."

"Tell her I'm sorry, will you?"

"Why don't you tell her yourself?" Alex replied. Spike gave him a sideways glance. Another false but incredibly dazzling smile. "The tie incident was unfortunate. It was a favorite of mine. But I can't do this on my own, Spike. I'll expect you bright and early tomorrow."

Spike's eyes moved back to the tombstone as Alex took another puff.

"I can't work for you, Alex. I can't."

The leader of the Red Dragon syndicate heaved a sigh. "What do you want from me Spike?"

"You know what I want."

Inhale.

Exhale.

"Fine," Alex said, smoke coming out with his words, "I'll take her off the list. We've spent too many men on her, anyway. In fact, I'll do you one better. I'll offer her a lifetime of security."

Spike scuffed his toes in the dirt. "That won't be necessary. Just let her go."

"Deal," Alex replied. "Tomorrow, then."

The cowboy nodded. "Tomorrow."

Without another word, Alex started forward, leaving Spike to his thoughts. As he passed Julia's gravestone the angelic man paused, grinding his cigarette into the cold rock. He glanced back quickly, then went on his way.

Spike watched his retreating form, brow furrowed. When Alex was out of sight, he moved forward and knelt at the tombstone, picking up the crushed cigarette from the grass.

He smelled it, worry building in his stomach.

Alexander King only smoked when he was lying.

The fan turned slowly in circles.

Faye opened her eyes slowly. It was the first thing she saw.

Nothing had changed on the Bebop.

She yawned and stretched out of the old yellow couch, stretching her limbs as far as they could go.

"Good morning, lazy ass." Jet greeted from the chair opposite. "It is now three o'clock in the afternoon on Mars. You have successfully slept the entire day away." He smiled crookedly and lit a cigarette.

Faye sat up slowly, pushing the hair out of her eyes. "I had a little trouble falling asleep last night." She explained, curling her legs into her body and resting her arm on the back of the couch.

"That," Jet responded, "Is because you chose to sleep on that old couch instead of your nice bedroom I kept all fixed up for three years."

She gave Jet a sideways glance. "Got another cigarette?" She asked.

Jet cocked an eyebrow. "I thought Alyssa said you quit?"

"I did. For a while."

The man shrugged and pushed his pack and lighter across the table to her. Faye smiled gratefully and pulled a cancer-stick out, placing it to her lips. She was about to light up when she paused. She glanced at Jet. "These are going to kill us."

He shrugged, "Not like we have anyone to live for."

Faye smiled and the lighter flared, lighting the cigarette in her mouth. "You'd be a great parent," She said sarcastically, "Has anyone ever told you that?"

Jet laughed. "I can't even keep you and Spike alive. What am I going to do with my own children?"

Faye's smile faded slightly, her eyes getting hazy. "I think we're a special case." She said.

He furrowed his brow. "Why?" He asked carefully.

She gave him a wry glance. "We both had a death wish long before we came to you."

They both laughed quietly. When the mirth subsided, it was replaced by silence. Jet and Faye both took pulls, watching the smoke drift away to avoid looking at each other. Jet's brow was heavily furrowed.

Halfway through her cigarette, Faye stood, crushing it into the ashtray on the table.

"I'm gonna take a shower." She announced, as much for herself as for Jet.

The older man just nodded and ran a hand over his balding head, eyes distant.

Faye lingered a moment longer, watching him to make sure he wasn't having a stroke or a heart attack or what ever it is aging smokers had. He just sat, head resting in his free hand.

Sighing, the woman turned slowly on her heel, leaving Jet to his thoughts. As she reached the door, she paused, looking back over the kitchen and living room.

No. Nothing had changed.

But everything was different.

The door slid open with a breath of air, and Faye slipped through noiselessly. It closed immediately behind her, trapping her in an artificially lit metal cage of a hallway. Doors lined either side. There were only a few, but it felt like a million.

One in particular caught her eye.

Suddenly, she didn't want to take a shower anymore.

Faye swallowed hard and put one foot in front of the other. An emotion welled up inside her chest, unidentifiable but not as foreign as it seemed at first. She took a deep breath in and continued walking.

A voice echoed down the hall. Another one of Edward's pretty, nonsensical songs. A soundtrack to Faye's dilemma. She smiled, terrified.

I had, after all, been a long time.

Fingertips brushed the cold metal door. A palm pressed flat against it, fogging the glimmering steel.

Just like all the times before.

The room had always scared her, a little. The person it kept, coming and going as he pleased but more of a prisoner than anyone she had ever known, had scared her too. More than once. But the intrigue had overpowered that, somehow.

Faye was proof that curiosity really did kill the cat.

The door opened suddenly, startling an already high strung Faye Valentine. She jumped back, her thick hair swinging across her face and back. The smell of stale cigarettes hit her like a brick wall. She clicked on the overhead light. The scent was the only indication that the room had ever been used.

Everything not bolted down was gone. The piles of clothes, the pictures, the mattress, the posters. All that remained was the lonely bed frame and the dresser.

Furrowing her brow, Faye padded forward into the room, moving towards the dresser.

A set of sheets, freshly washed and dried, was folded neatly next to a little bonsai tree marked with a sign that read 'Spike'. Bewildered, Faye reached forward to touch it, picking at the tiny leaves.

She didn't feel herself crying until a teardrop hit her arm. Faye looked at it, shocked and appalled, her mouth open. Another snaked down her other cheek, falling on the floor without a sound. Wiping at her cheeks, she caught a drop on her finger, touching the moisture with her tongue. Salt.

Eyes wide and glassy, Faye reached her slender hand forward again, fingers closing around tiny, scale-like leaves, pulling and picking them off. The slivery blue foliage fluttered to the top of the dresser as she dug her nails into the bark, dragging out leaf after leaf, silent tears still trickling down her pale cheeks.

Suddenly, all that mattered was the tree. Faye was digging for answers, answers to questions she had had from the second she had seen him. Digging for closure, for a resolution before they left Mars. Digging like everything she had ever needed to know was in the leaves of the tiny, unfortunately named bonsai tree.

She pulled chunks of leaves away rapidly, her hands sticky with sap.

Spike was bleeding.

"Aaah! What the hell are you doing to Spike?"

Faye jumped as Jet's voice rang out in the room. She turned to face him, backing away.

"I…" She stuttered, trying to hide her slowing tears. But Jet wasn't looking at her. He was moving towards the little tree, inspecting it carefully like a doctor.

"Faye," He said, reprimanding her as he scanned the tree, cataloging the various injuries in his mind, "I worked my ass off on Spike. He's an informal upright. Root over rock. You better hope you haven't ruined him."

"I…" Faye swallowed and looked down to the floor, taking a deep breath. The tears had stopped. When she looked up, her eyes were angry. "He was here, wasn't he?" She demanded quietly.

Jet turned to face her, face a little ashamed. He scanned her face, searching her eyes.

"Yes." He said simply.

Faye's hands curled into fists. She exploded suddenly. "And you didn't tell me?" She practically screamed. "You know he was alive and you didn't tell me!"

"Hey," Jet said, stern, his brow heavily furrowed. "You left. You said you didn't want to know if he died."

"If he died, Jet! Why didn't you tell me he was still fucking alive! I bet you also knew he was in the syndicate, didn't you? Didn't you?"

Jet was silent.

Faye's heart broke. She covered her face with her hands, turning away and pressing her forehead to the wall. Tears were coming again. "I can't believe you…" She whispered. "All this time…"

She could hear Jet sigh. "An old friend at ISSP told me the Dragons were acting up again. Spike came back two years ago to get his crap. I asked him about it. He just smiled." The aging man sounded almost helpless.

"God, Jet." Faye's voice was quiet, strained. "I always knew you liked him more… But he was trying to kill me, Jet!" Her volume was increasing, "He was trying to kill me! And you still didn't say anything?" She turned on him, her eyes filling.

"Spike's been a hell of a friend, Faye. To both of us. It's what he thought was best."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"It means that he wanted to help, Faye. It means that he wanted to get you the hell out of this mess without fucking up your life too much. Spike is a good man."

"Spike left us, Jet! When we needed him most." She spat. "Spike is a backstabber, you're just too chicken shit to notice!"

Jet's face was grave. His eyes searched her own for a long time before he spoke.

"This is my ship, Faye," He said, voice cold. "Learn some respect, or get the hell off. I'm sure the Red Dragons are waiting at your apartment. They'll be happy to see you."

Neither person spoke. Ed's song drifted through the halls, heightening the tension. They had entered a staring contest, green on brown.

"Spike was trying to save your life," Jet growled finally.

Faye's eyes moved to the ground, her hair swinging forward.

"I'm sorry…" She said reluctantly, glancing at Jet through dark locks.

His features softened significantly. "You know," He told her quietly as he crossed his arms across his chest, "If you talk to someone about it, it'll hurt a lot less. I learned that lesson the hard way."

Faye ran a hand through her hair, meeting Jet's eyes. "I'm fine now." She insisted halfheartedly.

He watched her for a moment, like he was checking to make sure. Then he nodded, satisfied. "Alyssa is here. I was coming to get you. She's waiting in the living room."

Faye smiled softly and nodded, tucking her hair behind her hair. "Right…" She started towards the door, trying to wipe the dry sap on her skirt. A she passed Jet, she paused. "I'm sorry about your tree." She said hurriedly, flashing him a grin and hightailing it out of the room.

He stood still for a moment, eyes on the ravaged bonsai plant, little leaves scattered around the base like bones.

"Sorry, Spike," Jet said quietly. He smiled sadly. "I didn't mean to tell her."

The tree didn't respond.

Alyssa was nervous. She crossed her legs, picking at the beaten yellow fabric of the chair she sat on. A fan spun slowly above her, casting the only light in the room.

A glass of iced tea sat rapidly condensing on the coffee table.

The woman patted her hair, done in a neat French twist.

So this was it. This was her intended role. The messenger.

Alyssa sighed. Someone up there must really hate me…She mused, continuing to pull at the threads. The messengers always got shot in the end.

Crap.

A door opened and closed, Faye stepping though reluctantly. Alyssa's head jerked up, an eyebrow quirked. The younger woman was wearing the same clothes as last night, her hair mussed and knotted. Smiling sweetly, Alyssa stood, grabbing a big paper shopping back on her way up.

"These are yours," She explained, holding the bag out to Faye. "Clothes. From your apartment. I stopped off there before I came."

"How did you get a key?" Faye asked, raising an eyebrow and taking the bag, checking the contents quickly.

Alyssa shrugged uncomfortably. "The door was shot off."

Faye nodded, remembering. "Thanks." She said. "Jet'll be out in a minute. I'll get him." She was turning to go.

"Wait!" Alyssa said quickly, louder than she had meant. Faye stopped, brow furrowed, and turned back to her.

"Yeah?"

"Um… You might wanna sit down…" Alyssa suggested, taking a seat herself. The other woman followed her example.

"What's going on?" Faye asked, leaning back and crossing her legs.

The older woman looked down to the metal floor, uncomfortable. "I had a visitor last night, after I closed up." Alyssa glanced up.

Faye was looking at her like she was a lunatic.

She was handling it all wrong.

A moment was passed in awkward silence.

Exasperated, Alyssa just blurted it out. "A man named Spike Spiegel came to my apartment last night. He had a message for you. He seemed a little desperate."

Faye sat in silence, hands folded in her lap, eyes big. She looked like a scared child, green eyes shining and wide. "…Spike?" She said very quietly.

Alyssa nodded slowly. "Yes."

"What did he say?" Faye's voice was steady.

"He wanted you to know that you're finally singing on key." Alyssa said softly.

She watched for Faye's reaction. Nothing visible.

Then, calm and almost in a haze, Faye stood, bending down to grab the bag of clothes and walking out of the room.

The door swished closed behind her.

Alyssa sighed and put her head in her hands.

Pandora's box was open.

A ring of water formed slowly around the glass of iced tea.

The fan continued to turn.

A/N: Again, thank you to the reviewers. Chapter Sixteen is next! What can you expect?

Something Spectacular!

Lol. Sorry. I hope to have it out by next Sunday. Only 5 chapters left! I love you guys!

Rock on,

Lu