Hey guys, this one took a while to be edited. I just couldn't get it quite right, but I hope you guys like it. It's kind of a short chapter, but chapter 6 is longer and already edited, so I'm going to wait a bit see if there's anything I can improve from your comments and then post it on the weekend.

Okay, that review by tiger made me laugh so hard. I have put a lot of double innuendos (not just sexual by the way) here and there. That one was actually unintentional, but let me just say: Ah, the dirty minded .

Standard disclaimer applies.

Breaking Point

---5---

Spike entered the Bebop lounge area and plopped on the couch. He was shaking again and could barely control himself enough to not run into anything. He decided that nicotine would have to do until he could manage to stumble to his room. He smoked one cigarette and the tremors only seemed to intensify. Well, maybe that wasn't such a hot idea. With jerky movements and a labored breath, he made his way to his room with a few wobbly steps that almost cost him a one way trip to the ground.

"What are you doing?" Faye muttered in the darkness as he stumbled past her room.

"You up waiting for me?" Spike joked, his lips trembling.

"No jerk. I was headed to take a piss, not that…" She halted in mid-sentence, which told Spike that she had realized something was wrong. "Hey Spike," She called softly and touched him on the shoulder. He wanted to command his body to stop it at that instant. "Are you okay? You're shaking." Her voice sounded half-curious and half-frightened.

"You noticed, huh?" Spike chuckled and Faye scoffed at him pulling her hand away.

"I'm just trying to be civil, you know."

"Your politeness isn't going to help me." He started shaking even more. Great way to kill any ego I had left. He slid along the wall until he landed sitting on the floor.

"What will?" She almost sounded concerned.

"Bottle under my bed." Faye immediately went into his room and a few moments later she came out and handed him the small bottle. He took out two pills and popped them into his mouth.

"We're way into the twenty-first century and still using pills, doesn't that seem stupid? I mean sure, they're tasteless and disintegrate without having to drink water and all but still."

"What the hell are you talking about?" He asked after swallowing his two pills. She chuckled nervously and slid down next to him. Still quaking, he glanced over his shoulder. She placed a small lock of her violet hair behind her ears. He could see her, smell her, and feel the warmth that radiated from her body and that comforted him too much to his surprise. In a jerky impulse, his hand reached for hers. He grabbed it and held it there as he trembled. At first, she almost jerked away, but instead she held his hand back without any objection.

"I wonder why they happen. I've never seen you like this," she said in a low tone

"They started about three months ago a few weeks after I woke up."

"You were unconscious all that time." The shock echoed in her voice.

"Yeah." Spike chuckled, but it sounded more like labored breathing.

"Head trauma?" She turned to him.

"More like all kinds of trauma." An awkward yet soothing silence surrounded them for a long while. His quaking body slowly became composed once again.

"Well, that was a quite a bonding experience. I'm going to bed." She pried her hand away from his as the sarcasm washed over his body. He smiled to himself in spite of everything. She had forgotten to take a piss after all.

"Yeah, sleep tight." He added, but he couldn't help being annoyed at her. She was confusing as hell. What is wrong with me anyway? His ego scorned him for sinking that low. Letting Faye see him in a weakened, even pathetic state, had been one thing, but holding her hand? He had definitely pushed it too far. Apparently, dying a couple of times can make a man kind of wimpy. Irony and sarcasm had reached new levels that day. He headed to his room with the bitter after taste of alcohol still lingering on his tongue. All he wanted to do was attempt to sleep. For a moment, he wished he had borrowed a couple of Faye's sleeping aids. After hours of trying, he managed to fall asleep, his tired state of mind hitting REM immediately.

"I don't like it. He's still too young." Mao Yenrai spoke firmly.

"He'll do fine. This isn't his first job. He wouldn't be alive if he hadn't killed before." The man sitting across him smiled coldly.

"It is the first of this kind." Yenrai insisted.

"It's an easy one. A good starter to show his potential. Vicious has done just fine, he'll be with him. You worry too much Yenrai."

Spike smirked and nodded at the cold man and at Yenrai. The doors flew open as Spike emerged outside the syndicate building, a semi-automatic along with two handguns hidden inside his overcoat. A soft hum filled the air. The familiar melody rang in his ears as he hopped into the black car.

Spike awoke abruptly. Every vein in his head pounded fiercely. His hands rubbed his eyes, still feeling trapped within the dream, still hearing that melody in his head. That song last night had crawled into his dreams and bounced around in his mind. And to his unpleasant surprise, he found Julia sitting at the side of his bed glaring at him curiously while humming "La Vie en Rose."

"God, not even in my sleep," he uttered rubbing his temples and reaching for the cigarette pack he left by his pillow. Julia shrugged at him and continued humming the song. Usually, Spike marveled at the sound of her voice, but the song reminded him of the tasteless gin and that crazy French woman.

"It reminds me of something, that song. But it hurts to think about it." She sighed and silence now governed the room much to Spike's gratitude.

"I don't suppose you want some coffee." He placed a cigarette in his mouth and stood up. He ruffled his dark hair a bit and swung his head from side to side trying to get his neck to crack or at least unwind.

He tried the coffee at the galley, but it had already gone cold. His face grimaced as he tasted it and at the fact that he had slept for only an hour last night. It's better than nothing. Jet entered the small cooking area eyeing Spike's unpleasant morning appearance.

"Hey Jet, did you make this coffee?" Spike asked slapping the cup back down.

"No, Faye probably did." Jet rubbed the sides of his head. He didn't sleep well either.

"Figures, it's terrible," Spike said with a g4rimace.

"Jet." Faye peered into the kitchen. "I think we're going to have to postpone our trip." She strolled in not even glancing once at Spike.

"To Ganymede?"

"Faye, you make the worst coffe,." Spike added glancing at the brown goop in his cup.

"Yeah, turns out someone caught our fish." She didn't flinch at his comment.

"Damn, well we better find some business soon."

Spike smirked and took out his pay card. He handed it to Jet who just stared at him in disbelief. "It should do for now."

"Since when do you share money like this?" Jet raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are old comrades for?" He glanced over at Faye who still refused to look at him. She shrugged at Jet and then left saying something about a shower. He massaged his temples as his mind ached with aggravation. He couldn't bear her ignoring him any longer. It would drive him insane at this rate and he didn't even really know why. He figured it was just for old time's sake, as a security blanket. He wanted some kind of constant from his past, even if it meant arguing with Faye. He didn't care at this point.

"I see she's still hell-bent on ignoring me."

"She doesn't like you much."

"Yeah, well, I'm not asking her to." Spike smirked. He glanced at the bathroom door and focused on it as his lips curled to a devious smile.

"Wait Spike, what are you thinking?" Jet was already shaking his head at him.

"Just an innocent prank." The devious smile turned into a full out plan in his mind and right then was the perfect time to execute it.

"I don't want to hear your whining when she beats you to the ground." Amusement rang in the 38-year-old's voice—amusement and relief.

Perhaps Spike dwelled too much on the Faye situation, but she sparked something in him that he couldn't explain. It all went back to that day when he saw her crying in her room—no—even further back to that fateful day when he faced Vicious. No one had ever cried for him that way. No one had ever pleaded for him to stay or even desired for him to live that badly. Julia had been so different. He recalled the comforting and cold calmness that engulfed them when they were together. They shared similar pains, similar struggles, and their love rose from the bittersweet lives they led. It had been so wonderful and so different from this.

He didn't want to think about his actions concerning anything, least of all Faye. Life had granted him another chance and he figured that he was running on overtime by now. Why should it bother him? His dead girlfriend appeared here and there. He had incontrollable seizures. He had come back to the Bebop on a whim. At this point, he saw it futile to even attempt to make sense of anything. He allowed his impulses to control him, because it all turned out simpler that way. After all, Spike had never been one to overanalyze, so most of his actions, which reflected his feelings would sneak by him and he wouldn't notice until it was too late.

He stealthily entered the bathroom. The warm steam enraptured him and he could hear a few quiet murmurs coming from Faye. The loud roaring sound of the water allowed him to carefully reach for her clothes, towel, and her gun. He threw the towel around his neck and then hung the gun in his pants. He held her clothes in one hand patiently waiting for her to finish her sanitary ritual. A sudden moment of realization struck him as he heard the water drizzle against her body. The dark silhouette reflected playfully on the opaque curtain. He could readily trace every curve and line of her profile. She always wore clothes that revealed more than they covered, but never had it occurred to him before just how beautiful she was. Seeing her soft figure reflected, leaving mostly all to his imagination, made her seem so fragile and delicate.

Whoa there, pent up frustration, she's just a tomboy. Snap out of it.

The squeaky sound of the knob and the fading of the water indicated him that it was almost show time. He smirked as soon as he spotted her pale hand creeping out trying to find her clothes.

"Where the hell?" She quickly opened the curtains much to her dismay.

"Hello Faye." Spike greeted her dangling her clothes from his hand. It took less than a second for Faye to explode.

"You fucking pervert!" She screamed quickly pulling the curtain around her small frame. "Give them back!"

"Now that's the Faye I know." He remarked. She quieted for a moment as a red flush crept on her cheeks. Satisfaction filled his prideful ego almost instantly.

"When I get out of here, I'm going to kill you." She stated firmly.

"You forget, I'm already dead."

"Prick." She pouted angrily. This only fed his face a victoriously childish grin.

"Besides, you deserve this. You can't plan to ignore me forever."

"I can sure as hell try."

There it was. That was all she needed to do to cause the spark of irritation to be ignited within him. He came back for her. He felt a little concerned and like a good comrade he had come back. Damn women.

"Why are you so mad at me?" He narrowed his soft russet eyes on her.

"Must we really talk about this, right now?" He nodded at her. Her emerald eyes stared grievously at him. The urge to shrink back suddenly overcame him, but he stopped it in time to salvage his ego. Instead, he painted his familiar stoic expression across his face. He sighed about ready to hand her back the towel and the clothes, but then she spoke up. "You didn't say anything. You just left and then didn't say anything. It's been a damn year and you stroll in like nothing happened. I can't do that, Spike. I'm not a spineless dead carcass walking around."

"You have no idea what I went through." His face, heart, and body had grown rigid.

"Yeah, I heard. You were sleeping." She paused. "You have no idea what I went through."

"You told me. You're a woman with a past now."

"No, I'm not. Everyone I loved is dead. I have nothing. I got my memories back, but my past is what I've lived in the past four years. It's the only thing that's shaped who I am."

He dropped her clothes and towel on the area by the shower. He walked out of the bathroom without saying word. He certainly hadn't come back to deal with this.

"Damn, I can't believe you're still looking for women troubles." Jet commented while typing and glaring intently at his computer screen.

"It's north and I'm south." Spike muttered jumping onto the yellow couch. Jet tore his eyes away from the screen and cocked an eyebrow at Spike. Spike placed his hands behind his head and slumped back on the hard furniture. "Like a magnet," He finally added. "I attract women troubles."

Jet chuckled seeing Faye stomping down the stairs. "That you do."

"Hey you." She called to him, her arms crossed under her breasts. She wore her usual yellow outfit and her long pink stockings. Spike lethargically let his head fall to the side facing Faye.

"Yes?" He yawned. She only glared harder at him.

"You forgot to give me back my gun." He smirked and pulled himself up with little effort. He walked over to the circular hall behind the lounge.

"Hey! I want it back!" She stomped towards him. He barely turned around, his double breasted jacket undone. His hand slid the jacket to the side revealing the gun dug in his pants, the black handle protruding. Jet sighed and shook his head.

"Come and get it." He turned back around and smirked. I really have lost all control over myself.