Thanks for coming back again and again to read my story. I am so happy to have loyal readers, it makes me all happy and tingly. Okay, enough of my genkiness and on with the story already!
To my reviewers: Thank you. I am so glad that you think I'm keeping them in character, that's very important to me. Although, I must confess it's getting harder to work with their character development and not cross that point of OOC-ness at the same time. So your suggestions are definitely welcomed. I don't want to reply much more, I'm afraid I'll reveal too much :) Thanks for reading and reviewing guys.
By the way, I know Spike was supposedly born on Mars? Do any of you guys ever hear the city where he was born mentioned? Also, about the woolongs currency thing, it's supposed to be similar to the yen value, but let's pretend a woolong is just a bit less than a dollar for the sake of this fic.
Okay, now for real, on with the show!
Standard disclaimer applies.
Breaking Point
---7---
Spike Spiegel didn't quite understand why seeing Faye and Julia yesterday in the same room at the same time had unsettled him. The whole night after that, he had spent it wondering about Julia and her reasons for appearing at that precise moment. He laughed at the irony of it all. Now, the one time he wanted her present she wouldn't show up at all. His thoughts trailed towards Faye, an impulse to apologize to her lingering in his mind. He didn't know why or really cared to, so instead he handed it off as the crazy effects from lack of sleep.
He peered out his door glancing from side to side attempting to detect any voices or steps. Anyone else would find these as desperate measures, but at the moment all he wanted was to train quietly and without any interruptions. That meant no encounters with Faye or Julia, or even Jet. Not that he could help the whole Julia situation, but he might as well pretend he still had some control over his crazy life. He sighed of relief observing the Bebop to be desolate. They had arrived to Mars by now; he knew this by the heavy weight of his body, caused by the higher gravity of the red planet.
Spike roamed the calm halls of the old fishing ship and descended the stairs that led into the lounge. He knew he had claimed peace too soon. As he strolled by the bathroom, the metal door whizzed open and Faye fatefully stumbled into him. He received the run-in with a grumble, but didn't say anything otherwise. She barely glanced his way as she caught her balance and continued moving. Was she scared of him? Probably, he figured, he had caught her off guard and shocked her one too many times. Hell, I've shocked myself a chock full too.
"Faye," His will spoke without even seeking the approval of his conscience. Damn mouth. Damn my impulses. Then again his motto had always been 'whatever happens, happens.' The silent pale woman stopped at his call, but remained with her back to him.
"Don't Spike." Her tone of voice startled him. She sounded so calm and defenseless at the same time and it bothered him. It bothered him that he kept discovering sides to this woman, layers and pieces that he wished would have stayed hidden. It bothered him because the more he saw of these mysterious and never-ending fluctuations in her personality the more he wanted to know of her. The more he wanted to pry and explore.
"I just wanted," He started but she immediately stopped him.
"I said don't." She paused, her shoulders slightly rising and then falling as she took as deep breath. "Don't, because yesterday I realized that we'll just never get along, you know? That we'll just never like each other very much and that's just how it is."
He told himself to say something, every part of him screamed for him to do so, but the thoughts in his mind undulated in nonsensical patterns and no words could form from emotions that he, himself, couldn't explain. She glanced back at him smiling that sad sincere smile of hers that churned his stomach. Not out of disgust, but a sensation that frightened him, because a part of him knew quite well what it meant. He was starting to like the tomboy, to feel for her, to understand her.
She walked off leaving him with no other choice but to shrug it off. If he paid any heed to his own feelings and thoughts and emotions—all the overdramatic, analytic and empathic deliberations that women often liked to torture themselves with—he would have gone crazy by now. Assuming that Julia and his tremors hadn't driven him past that point already. He went into one of the large cargo rooms no one used and practiced there for several hours. He then showered and put on his new trademark outfit, black pants and a black long sleeve shirt. It suited his handsome features exquisitely; however, it made his brooding more like sullen grieving. At least, his appearance remained carefree but not so lethargic and untidy as was his usual just less than a year ago.
He heard a few clicking sounds echoing in the ship and realized that Jet must be nurturing his bonsai.
"Taking care of your babies?"
"A man like you could never understand this art. The world of man revolves around balance. This is my way of keeping that balance." Jet grumbled under his breath as he snipped a verdant tress off. Spike chuckled at the man's usual wise mutterings.
"And the shrew?" Spike asked.
"Out, something or other about tracking a bounty. She refuses to tell." Jet took another snip at his trees and then grumbled.
"Well, that's expected."
"She seemed different today," Jet said placing the scissors down and grabbing the watering can instead.
"Different?" Spike inquired not entirely surprised.
"Yeah, it's odd. I think she's up to something." Jet shrugged.
"Heh, probably," Spike said whilerunning his finger through his hair.
"What about your mystery man?"
"Tonight, I'm going to watch the weather in town." Spike replied and Jet nodded at him. Another typical conversation with Jet. Spike never really had to explain himself to Jet and even if his impulses frustrated his old comrade, he would eventually accept them. At least, that consistency remained in his life.
Spike roamed the lively streets of Alba, the largest of the tri-cities that also included Tharsis and Olympus. The size of the city had a good logic to it since it was built on the largest crater on Mars as far as area goes. Everyone referred to Alba as "the Metro Area" of Mars, since it held most of the booming businesses, the art, the culture, the diversity and the celebrity life on the planet. The colonized red planet had become the modern-day world empire in terms of power. Tharsis was Spike's birth place and home of his past. He hated everything about Tharsis, but he tended to welcome Alba with open arms and the easy way you could get lost within the crowds.
He snooped around the bars in the area where had found the man who had attacked Faye. No one had heard of a Spike Spiegel, except for one or two people who recalled something about him being a bounty hunter. He hadn't admitted it to Jet or anyone for that matter, but it worried him. The fact that someone would randomly spend 200,000 woolongs on just scaring people around unnerved him.
There's something important I'm missing. He tried recalling what perhaps he could be overlooking. He smoked a cigarette exasperated at his careless memory. Oh well, I guess it probably wasn't that important after all.
"The French woman!" He suddenly shouted in the street. He rushed to "La Tour Eiffel" and asked the bartender if he had seen Natalie around. The man told him it was her week off.
"Have you seen a woman in here, French, black hair, wavy, dark eyes, very attractive?" The man shook his head. Spike sighed.
"You should try the French Riviera on West end. All the French slither out of their holes on weekends to go to the Riviera." The man suggested. Spike smirked. The French Riviera was the name given to the only French district in the city and in the planet for that matter. The French were few of the surviving indo-European cultures to remain strong since the Gate Accident.
He roamed the upbeat streets of the French Riviera with their casinos, hotels, and Broadway theaters. Spike didn't even know where to start, but he figured he would eventually get some hint or direction as to where to go. His life always seemed to work out that way
Indeed, he received a sign thanks to Faye Valentine. He spotted her at the entrance of an exclusive club called "Toulousse." He smirked as he observed her attire. She wore work clothes, a black dress tight at the top with a flowing skirt that fell an inch or two past her knees. She had a black shawl embroidered with gold and silver designs that hung at her elbows and a tall elegant demeanor thanks to her four inch black stiletto heels. Her hair had been sleeked back into a bun which had a small four petal red flower on the side. Yes, definitely work clothes, Faye Valentine was looking for her prey.
She whispered to the man holding a list at the entrance with a radiant smile painted on her glowing face. He quickly searched through his list and smiled.
"Mrs. Dupont, yes, but it says here we're expecting Mr. Dupont as well."
"Yes, he'll be around." Her smile didn't waver as she handed him an invitation card.
Spike smirked. "Well, the night is young." He dusted himself and adjusted his black shirt. He walked over to the man and smiled charmingly. "Mr. Dupont," He told the man. "My wife should have arrived earlier."
"Yes, Monsieur, she just went in and said you'd be following soon." The host extended his arm towards the door and the two large men on each side of the entrance opened that tinted glass doors to allow Spike inside. He observed everything around him from the glass candelabra hanging high up from the colorful ceilings to the many tables of men and women, the waitresses in cancan style costumes and the wooden dance floor in the middle of the large ballroom. The mellow sounds of the orchestra filled the room full of refined eager drunkards and beautiful women trying to snatch another rich guy. This was the pinnacle of where all the writers, painters, activists, actors, and even important social figures gathered to share whatever lavish ideas they thought would be amusing to discuss or slur for that matter.
His mismatched brown eyes searched for the astute woman. He caught a glimpse of Faye striding across the dance floor who had already charmed her way into a man's arms. She gracefully followed his lead through the soft ballad, and Spike smirked knowing that the man was probably clueless as to who was really the one leading. Faye Valentine had that seductress air that enchanted men and he felt certain every single one of them knew it, but the danger and the sex appeal she produced dulled their senses to the point they didn't care. Spike had been a womanizer once long ago. He knew exactly how women worked their charms and that would always be what he would use to charm them back.
"May I interrupt this dance, Mrs. Dupont." Spike had made his way to the dance floor and by enunciating the 'Missus' he quickly caught her partner's attention.
"Mr. Dupont I presume?" The man smiled uncomfortably. Spike simply nodded. The rich blond reluctantly let go of Faye and swayed his hand in a welcoming manner to Spike. Faye stared at Spike in disbelief, her left eyebrow twitching angrily. At that moment, the soft ballad transitioned into another melody through a short cello solo. Spike recognized the slow subtle tune and high pitch of the intermingling violins, a tango.
"What are you doing here?" She asked with her teeth clenched fiercely into a smile.
"I should ask you the same." He placed his hand on her lower back as the accordion joined in and the violins built up to a loud pitch. He suddenly pulled her waist against his hips. He smirked as her eyes widened. She resignedly placed her other hand on her hips as he swooped her down, her waist still locked against his body. Their eyes met and she cocked an eyebrow at him with a hint of amusement and annoyance. He led her across the floor dragging their feet in intertwined steps.
"I didn't think you could tango," She said at their first sharp turn.
"You'd be surprised how much tango is like fighting." He replied dragging their steps back to the other side. The piano now joined in the melody adding a quicker pace and allowing Spike to lead Faye with sharper and quicker steps.
"Are you here just to aggravate me?" She continued to question him, her radiant smile never fading from her crimson lips. He grabbed her thigh and brought her knee up to his hips. She wrapped her leg around his thigh breathing in deeply before he swooped her down again.
"That and I'm here on business too. You provided me with a nice pass." He told her as their eyes met again. She swung her foot out tip first sharply from side to side several times.
"You stalking me again?"
He strolled half way around her until he was at her back. He grabbed her waist and pulled her again to him this time spinning her along with him, body tight against body.
"Don't flatter yourself. I happened to be in the neighborhood." The dance of jagged steps, swings, and swoops continued. He smiled at the velvety and smooth way her skin felt every time he brushed against it and the way she could follow him with no problem. Faye amazed him. It was the first time he would admit that to himself. It hadn't surprised him that Faye could be so skilled at what she did. After all, here was a woman awoken from her death less than four years ago. She had been betrayed and left alone and in that time she learned to fight like a skilled martial artist, to gamble like the legend Poker Alice, and to pilot a monopod like she had been born on one. Faye's versatility had always impressed him and he excused it as a tomboy quality of hers. Of course, it could be of no surprise that a woman like her could tango.
Spike had picked up several quirks from living the syndicate life, and one of them was, oddly enough the tango. An old woman had taught it to him, an old friend of Annie's. The old woman told him that in life there were two ways to fight. One was to stubbornly attack your opponent like a blind man and the other was to use their attacks to your advantage and synchronize them with yours. This had made so much sense to him at the time that he asked her what her way of fighting was. The old woman had smiled deviously at him, her gray eyes holding incredible secrets within them that he could only imagine. Rosa, that was her name, replied that she didn't fight. She'd tango.
The Dupont's had drawn quite the attention to the dance floor by now. The chemistry that flowed with each of their rhythmic steps had appealed to the crowd. A few couples still danced the jagged steps of the tango, but the center of attention lay on the peculiarly intriguing couple in the middle of the wooden floor.
The accordion and piano slowly faded out as the violins and cello lethargically hit a few low notes and the song ended with Spike and Faye's stares interlaced. The crowd began clapping and they both joined in the roaring of the club. Spike and Faye smiled at the guests surrounding them in the dance floor as polite courtesy, and then he smirked at her. She carefully pulled him away to a corner and glared at him.
"We've drawn too much attention, so my night of work in here is over thanks to you."
"And who are you chasing after?" Spike asked with an indifferent tone.
"No way Spike, this is my catch." Faye stated and headed for the exit with Spike following close behind. "Don't ever do that again." Her voice sounded serious and annoyed.
As soon as they reach northwest main on the French Riviera they turned their separate ways. Spike glanced back at Faye's figure strolling away from him and simpered. He drew his hands into his pockets and walked down the melodious street with an inner sense of satisfaction.
The man held a small pistol in his hand. Spike smirked knowing that the man would prove to be an easy target. Spike contracted his leg muscles about to raise it to kick the pistol from the man's hand when a room behind him suddenly exploded. Spike ducked as the force and debris rung from behind.
"I will never let a dirty syndicate like yours own me." The man spoke unflinching from the impact of his bomb. Spike understood now. This man thought they were there to kidnap him. Vicious rushed in the room. He had been supposed to scout the basement and probably averted the explosion because of it. Spike noted that their target had been distracted by Vicious' sudden entrance. He kicked the pistol out of the man's hand and then kicked him down. The man didn't seem surprised, instead he propped himself on his knees.
"Notre Pere, qui es aux cieux, que ton nom soit sanctifie…" The man began praying. Spike brought out his gun, but the man didn't even notice.
"We have four men down and no time to gather anything. The bastard. ISSP will be here any minute." Vicious grunted. "Finish it." He left.
Spike's hand trembled as he aimed the gun the man's head.
"…Mais delivre-nous du mal. Amen." The man paused and then glanced up at Spike, his radiant dark eyes staring ferociously at him. Spike cocked the gun and pulled the trigger.
"Alyssa." The man had whispered before the shot dove into his head.
As Spike exited the room his eye caught a small frame on the small desk. It was of the man and a small girl with brown curls in his arms.
Spike wrapped his quaking arms around himself as he awoke from his cold nightmare. He reached for the pill bottle under his bed and realized it was empty. Muttering a curse under his breath, he threw the bottle against the wall and then dug his head between his knees
"You can't keep on like this." Julia said. Spike looked up to see Julia picking up the bottle he had just thrown. She eyed the label curiously and then set it down by the table next to his bed. Sighing she sat down by him, tilting her head to the side. The blond curls cascaded down her shoulder and her eyes glowed a verdant hue. She touched the hand that rested on his knee and smiled. "That was a horrible dream."
"I hadn't met you then. It happened five years before I met you." He muttered.
"His name is Henri Reve, a scientist from Biometrics Lab." Vicious had told him handing young Spike the picture. "It will go down tonight and word is you're our man."
"What did he do?"
"Nothing big. White Tigers are planning to recruit him and that makes him a liability for the Red Dragons."
"We can't have that, now can we?" Spike leered
"I don't know why I'm having dreams about this now." Spike commented as soon as he noticed Julia standing in his room again in the darkness. She often was waiting for him when he woke up.
"I know. It was so long ago." Julia glanced away from him and focused on the door. A fist forcefully pounded on the metal. Spike ignored it and instead placed his other hand on top of Julia's. He then caressed her cheek and she smiled again. His tremors had stopped and so had the pounding. Julia stood up again and stared at Spike expectantly. He propped himself up from the bed and got dressed in his black pants and shirt. He picked the bottle up and just before he exited, he glanced back towards his bed only to find the room completely desolate. He sighed resignedly and walked through the door.
He found Jet sitting in front of the computer with an exasperated expression on his face.
"So you're finally up," Jet commented, his eyes never leaving the computer screen. "I have to deal with both of you fighting and your damn brooding and now that crazed woman is chasing after a fake."
"A fake?" Spike slipped a cigarette in his mouth.
"Yeah, a fake bounty. My old colleague at ISSP tipped me. The bounty was put on a man who's been dead for over ten years." Spike laughed and Jet grumbled. "On top of that, she takes off and doesn't say when she'll be back."
"Is that why you almost busted down my door?" Spike inquired with a hint of annoyance in his tone.
"Oh! I almost forgot!" Jet suddenly started and reached into his vest pulling out a small envelope. "This came for you. You owe me 2000 woolongs."
"You're getting senile, Jet." Spike mocked taking the white envelope. It had his name written in cursive on the front. He opened it finding a small slip of paper inside with a message for him.
His heart raced and his tremors threatened to resurface. He read the line written diabolically on the paper several times. It hadn't registered at first and now that it had, Spike Spiegel swallowed hard, an ominous feeling mounting up in ball in his throat.
"There he is. The dead catch, Henri Reve." Jet muttered and Spike's eyes shot up towards the computer screen. The man's dark hair, eyes and the round features of his face registered immediately.
"Where is she?" Spike murmured. Jet glanced back at him perplexed by his reaction.
"Hey Spike, you don't look too thrilled."
"Jet." His mismatched russet eyes stared at Jet with a disoriented gleam. "Where is Faye?" Jet glared silently at him for a few seconds and finally spoke up.
"She muttered something about going to the dog tracks."
Spike ran out of the lounge towards the hangar not waiting for Jet's reaction. Jet ran after him calling his name, but Spike boarded the Swordfish without hesitation.
The tango scene: I hope that it fit in well and that it carried out the message and foreshadowing that I meant behind it. : I'm kind of growing a little wary of the characters and I hope you like the way I'm headed with their character development. This was meant to be as one of the most crucial scenes between Faye and Spike, and it's how I see the crux of their relationship which leads into what happens next and you'll see.
Tango scene inspired by Astor Piazzolla's Tango Fugata.
! It's going to get good! I promise. :)!