Hey guys, yeah I know I got this chapter out a little too fast. I can't help it, it's all just flooding out and I'm scared I'll get too busy and won't be able to update. Anyhow, after this chapter introductions are over and things start seriously picking up. I was having flow issues with this chapter at the beginning, but I hope it's okay now.

Standard disclaimer applies.

Breaking Point

---4---

Spike roamed into the Bebop and the first object his eyes fell upon was the Swordfish II parked and restored. He smirked knowing that Jet had probably found it and fixed it up for him hoping he would return for his ship. Jet knew him all too well. He patted the side of his old red companion and wandered deeper into the Bebop listening to sizzling and spoons clattering against a pan in the galley, if you could really call that tiny room to be anything like a kitchen. Jet was probably cooking his dreadful meals as always. He whizzed by the galley and sat on the old yellow couch. The appearance of the ship had remained the same and the familiarity felt more comforting than the perturbing effect he thought it would have on him.

After a few minutes of reminiscing, he stood up and walked by the shower room hearing the sounds of water drizzling. He figured Faye was probably in there refreshing the anger off herself. He smirked and wandered into his empty room. It was as messy as he had left it. Those two sentimental comrades of his hadn't touched a thing. With a rueful smile, he set down his sack. It was the first time in his life that he had time to pack and think of what he would do. Well, there's a first time for everything.

He brought out a pack of smokes and placed a cigarette in his mouth. He lit it heading back towards the lounge area. He was about to plop down on the couch when Jet peered his head out of the kitchen.

"Faye, dinner's almost ready!" he shouted and popped back in for a few seconds.

3…2…1.

"Spike!" Jet shouted instinctively rushing out of the kitchen. Faye had just opened the bathroom door as soon as she had heard Jet call her.

"Yo," Spike answered nonchalantly and then turned his mismatched dark eyes towards Faye. She stood paralyzed in front of the bathroom door, still a little wet, with a towel wrapped around her svelte figure. Her eyes revealed nothing but a blank expression. Her rosy lips slightly opened about to say something, but no words flowed out of her mouth. With a quick shrug and a dismissal gesture of her hand, she left for her room not glancing back at him. His brow furrowed with reproach.

"What's her deal?" Spike asked plopping on the couch. Jet had already sat down trying to catch his heart and regain his color.

"What do you expect Spike? Dead people don't just wander in like that." Jet sighed. "Besides, your little messenger pissed her off to hell. What kind of sick joke is that?"

"That wasn't me. I don't know the man and I don't know who sent him."

"And that's why you're back?" Jet said raising an eyebrow, but his question sounded more like a statement.

"I needed time," Spike replied discarding his used cigarette.

"You could have at least let us known that you were alive." Jet sat down, pressing his palm against his chest, as if he had nearly had a heart attack.

"I wasn't too clear on that myself for a while." Jet brushed his hand on his bald head. He muttered a "damnit" and got up. Spike only stared at him in confusion.

"Well, dinner's almost done. Yakisoba noodles today." Jet informed him with an inviting expression on his face. He walked off to the kitchen, but glanced back at him briefly before entering. "Hey Spike, glad to have you back." Spike smiled and nodded.

He rummaged his sack throwing clothes, two guns, a pack of cigarettes and some more clothes on his bed. His whole body had been overcome with tremors and he could barely concentrate long enough to search through his belongings. The pill bottle finally turned up. He gripped it and popped the lid open. He swallowed two of his pills. Grabbing his lighter and a cigarette, he headed for the lounge area to smoke. He sat in the darkness with his cigarette trembling within his lips. He heard another door open and saw Faye's small figure rushing into the bathroom. He went to stand by the bathroom door and had the pleasure of hearing her gagging and then flushing the toilet.

"Feeling under the weather?" He asked as she exited the bathroom. She jumped back startled a bit. His eyes had already adapted well enough to the darkness that he could see her face quickly turning into a stoic expression.

"What do you want?" she said monotonously.

"You haven't said a word to me since I got here." That bothered him more than he would admit to himself.

"I thought dead people didn't talk, not that you were much of a conversationalist when you were alive." Her tone hadn't wavered.

"That's all?" he asked annoyed by her indifferent demeanor.

"I don't have anything to say."

"Faye big-mouth Valentine not have something to say?" He snickered and saw her eyebrow twitch.

"I'm tired. I'm going to bed." She began walking away, but he grabbed her by the arm. Her body whipped back to face him. His cheek felt hot and sore from the impact of her hand against it.

"What the fuck did you do that for?" He held his cheek defensively. She had really lost her nerve.

"I thought the dead didn't feel either," Sshe whispered and left for her room. Spike stood staring at the empty darkness before him dumbfounded.

"She must be real angry that you left her." Julia whispered. Spike sighed at Julia's impeccable timing. This would soon drive him nuts, that is, if hadn't lost it already.

"Yeah. I guess so," he replied coldly. "Why did she cry then?" His mind spoke for him.

"I don't know." Julia's soft voice never ceased to comfort him.

"Did she really miss me?" His mind would not be dissuaded from the matter at hand.

"Do you miss her?"

"Why do you do that? Tell me some cryptic crap, does that come along with your supposed purpose?" He was angry.

"You misunderstand me again. I've no purpose here. I've no commitment to you. I don't know why I'm here. I just know that I am and that I feel what you feel like I'm a part of you."

"What kind of answer is that?"

"Spike?" The lights suddenly came and Jet wandered into the lounge area. Spike glanced around the entire place, but Julia was gone. "Who in the world were you talking to?"

"Myself." Spike smirked nervously.

"That's never a good sign you know."

The next morning rolled along and to say the least Spike hadn't slept a single minute. Not that sleep was exactly the most productive of activities, nevertheless, Spike still treasured whatever simple pleasures he had left in his life. Apparently, sleep had ceased to be one of them. He decided to take an early shower knowing he would enjoy the warm water and leave Faye with none. He smirked, because what could he do? She had brought this on herself after all. As he exited his room, he spotted Faye attempting to reach the shower before him. That sneaky little wench. He glared at her with anger. That tomboy was really starting to fuse a nerve. He ran to the door like an eager little boy trying to make it to the hide and seek save spot in time.

"I don't think so." He smiled placing his hand on the latch of the door. She glared at him, her left eyebrow twitching and teeth clenching. She breathed in and simply shrugged. This was really starting to irritate him. Her controlled moods and reactions, even if he could read through them, still bothered him. Especially how she would try and hide everything. She had changed altogether from a total unpleasant, crazy, and furiously loud tomboy to a control freak. None of those qualities were the least bit attractive to him and yet, that's how most of the day carried on. Faye would leave for a while and then come back to eat at the Bebop with no objection from Jet and no acknowledgement of Spike's existence. Spike Spiegel did not like being ignored, especially by a self-righteous, pompous chick. He was flustered with anger and even more irritated at the fact that even if he told her off, she would pull that prideful I'm in control act. He spent a few hours in the engine room practicing his martial arts techniques and venting off the steam that shivered in his skin. His mind relented itself to the calm and complex world of his fighting. Spike had submerged himself in the deepest of oceans as he fought the only one he could blame for all that he felt, all his spite, all his troubles, and his troubled life. He blamed it all on himself.

He practiced a few hours past sunset, took a shower and then thought it best to treat himself to a drink or two. All he needed to reach his ultimate Zen was some gin. He chuckled inwardly at that. As he exited his room and headed towards the lounge, he saw Faye's small figure plopped on the yellow couch watching some news. He scoffed silently. She was purposefully trying to aggravate him. Laying around in her little t-shirt and shorts ignoring the fact he was alive. What did you expect Spike? A warm welcome? He sighed. He definitely needed that drink.

"Oi Spike." Jet called to him as he headed towards the hangar. "We're leaving tomorrow for Ganymede. You coming along?" Spike shrugged and boarded the Swordfish II. He had heard Jet mutter some exasperated expression under his breath, but then again that was Jet. Though, he had never asked if he wanted to come along before. A year seemed to cause a lot of changes in people's character. People he thought he knew too well. Perhaps Spike's mind had been in a troubled state too long to notice that his once good eyes for this sort of thing were going blind.

He headed into town and decided to try out a new place. He spotted a little French Jazz bar on east end called "La Tour Eiffel." Obviously a pun from the past he didn't quite catch. He sat in a corner, drank his gin and smoked uninterrupted for a while. Spike had welcomed the sleazy peace and space that bar provided him. That is until he saw the young blonde bartender and one of her friends giggling while shuffling glances towards him. He could hear their words clearly, but he had never been well versed in French. It annoyed him sometimes when women did this, especially on nights like this. He just didn't feel up to playing games with anyone.

"Qu'estce qu'il boit?" The woman asked the bartender. Her eyes and hair were as black as the night and her olive complexion glowed in the dull lights of the room.

"Du gin." The blonde responded. Natalie had been her name as he recalled.

"Ah bon." The woman signaled a one with her finger. Just great. She was asking for gin and he knew exactly what that meant. Her dark eyes glanced over to him and he smiled, not that he was welcoming her, but his bad habits of being a charmer didn't exactly fade that easy.

"Natalie, une chanson s'il vous plait." Her voice sounded deviously low.

"La meme?" Natalie asked and her friend nodded. The woman slid off her stool and in her radiant sleek black dress she headed towards Spike. He grumbled under his breath and then outwardly masked his frustration with a smirk. She sat at his table and slid the gin towards him. He caught it and nodded a thank you. Natalie's voice emerged from the small stage on the corner. She sang with a gentle low voice "La Vie en Rose."

"You looking for a good time cowboy?" Her radiant dark eyes traced his features playfully. She bent slightly on the table revealing a hint of cleavage as her black curls cascaded past each shoulder.

"I'm not a cowboy and no thanks." He replied nonchalantly. She had surprised him really. From a distance, she hadn't seemed like the type of woman who would offer herself like that. Then again, his judgment of woman had been kind of bruised for a while.

Her red lips rounded up in a pout and she cocked her head. Her features took an immediate prideful classy stance. He was suddenly faced with a very different woman.

"Oh, but I think you are a cowboy." Her tone differed completely from before. She sounded cynical.

"Listen lady, I just came for a drink, and nothing else." Two men in suits standing at the two corners near the door eyed them fiercely.

…Quand il me prend dans ce bras

Il me parle tous bas

Je vois la vie en rose

"This was my father's favorite song."

"How touching," Spike said with a scowl.

"I remember you, Spike Spiegel." She eyed him sharply. His expression remained stoic shielding the shock within him.

Il me dit des mots d'amour

Des mots de tous les jours

Et ca me fait quelque chose…

"Who are you?" His mismatched brown eyes focused on her.

"I remember how ten years ago you killed my father. He was all I had. I was eleven years old. He hadn't done anything to anyone, but you killed him." She spat spitefully and then quickly composed herself. Spike's breathing had rapidly increased and his mind searched frantically through his memories for any trace of the girl, now a woman, sitting in front of him. His face remained stoic.

"I don't like to hang onto the past," he simply stated. She smiled charmingly, almost as if he were her suitor.

"Do you sleep well at night?" She inquired still grinning.

"Not particularly." His mind had resigned already to not recalling who this person could be. The past is the past, and one cannot change it. What else did she want from him?

"Good." She added and stood up. The two tall guys in dark suits followed her as she walked out of the bar.

I give up trying to understand women.

I know, I know. Where's all the Faye/Spike action? Trust me. It'll be here. This was a character development chapter, sorry about that, but chapter 5 and 6 is all Faye/Spike. I promise.

Oh about the French, if you really didn't get the hints of what they were saying, basically, it was the woman asking Natalie what he was drinking and then requesting her to sing a song which was Edith Piaf's "La Vie en Rose."