Breaking Point
---48:20:01---
He wandered aimlessly down the dark streets until his feet—or desires for that matter—brought him to her doorstep. Before gaining the courage to knock, he touched the door slightly so perhaps he could feel that incandescent warmth of hers pouring out the cracks of her entrance. That's when he heard it. One little sob that followed endless others and pushed against the door beckoning it to open. He shook the startled look from his face and slowly turned to the knob. Yes, she had left it open. Open for him, perhaps? She knew better than to leave herself so open like that.
He stealthily stepped past the door frame into a room he expected to be warm and full of her light. Instead, darkness and cold greeted him, the scent of salt lingering in the air. His heart stopped the minute he saw her slumped against the corner. She had pulled her thighs against her chest, and her beautiful blonde hair dripped down her legs as her head lay on her knees.
"Julia?" He thought he asked, but he couldn't even hear himself. Her sobs pounded in his ears deafening them from everything else. Her head immediately whipped up, her tears glowing white in the dark. He tried to swallow the burning in his throat as he watched her hands clawing her legs. So much anger poured out of her blue eyes and then they softened to an empty sadness that only hurt him more to see. She glanced back down as another sob escaped her lips. As she slowly lifted her face again, the blonde hair faded into the darkness and her skin became paler against the night. The emerald eyes that now glared forcefully at him succumbed to painful resentment.
He felt himself shaking all over. 'No,' he told himself, 'I can't be seeing this.'
"Stop it!" He shouted and her eyes were startled into sudden sadness. Her short dark hair drooped dejectedly at her sides and her mouth trembled with whimpers. "Faye…" He said sincerely sorry that he had shouted at her. The minute she heard her name uttered from his lips the anger returned and her hand reached forward into the darkness. Her emerald eyes became smoldered with black anger and her dark hair elongated into black curls. Even her pale skin had turned olive in the night. It was Alyssa.
Sometimes the nights would end up like this and she didn't know how the pain washed over her so fast like a giant wave that engulfed her and sank her forcefully to the pit of the ocean. At these times, she would blare up her emotions and let her anger consume her. Wedged in a corner, she would grip her hair, threaten to rip it out, and deciding against the pain that would cause, she would just run her fingers through it—nails pressed hard against the scalp. Rocking back and forth, the tears would burn down her cheeks leaving red streaks on her sallow face. Her heart throbbed and pushed against her chest, almost forcing it open and almost allowing her emotions to spill at her feet.
She couldn't avoid it. She hated him with the very fervor of her being and that hate threatened to tear her into thin strands until nothing remained but her revulsion for him written on the strips of flesh. She reached out in front of her, her hand in a claw-like manner, and pretended he was there for just a second. She could then rip out his soul like he had done hers. She could scratch his stained surface until nothing but the core was left. But before her hand could fill her invisible wish, the sadness would overcome the anger. It would always win their constant battles in the stadium of her broken heart. Sadness, sadness, sadness! How she hated it more than him!
Everything she thought, he could hear. Everything she felt burned inside him. He wanted it to stop so much. He hated her just as much as she hated him, or he wanted to at least. He hated his past and everything he did more than he hated her.
'Alyssa!' His heart shouted with scorn. "Alyssa!"
But the moment the world heard him, she disappeared and he was left to himself and his darkness.
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"Spike," that voice sounded so distant. "Spike." It was cold, so damn cold.
"Spike!" Two hands gripped his shoulders while his whole body quaked as if each and every nerve were vibrating throughout him. His eyes opened slowly in a daze and met with two emerald ones.
"Faye?" He asked though he could barely hear his own voice. Then it hit him like a tidal wave of reverie. The dream he had just had. The dream about Julia, about Faye, and …
"Spike, you're shaking again." She stated with a bit of concern slurring out of her voice. He simply stared at her, that same face that only a few seconds ago had been sobbing because of him. Her eyebrows scrunched with puzzlement, and she slowly pulled her hands off his shoulders. He snapped out of his trance as soon as Faye looked away
Spike realized he had dozed off while sitting on the yellow couch. He lifted his trembling arm to glance at the watch on his wrist. He had only been out for ten minutes or so.
"Jet's not here yet?" He asked, not wanting to look at her again. She collapsed lazily on the spot next to him.
"Nope," she carelessly responded. Jet had phoned in about two hours ago saying that he would be a while, something about finding an important clue he needed to check out. Meanwhile, Faye's time was down to barely two days.
As she slowly lifted her face again, the blonde hair faded into the darkness and her skin became paler against the night.
Bits and images of the dream surfaced in his mind and as they did his tremors grew stronger.
"My god, are you all right?" Faye asked with a startled tone.
"Yeah, I'm just going to go get my…" He didn't finish his sentence and instead began to stand up.
"Do you need some help?" She offered sincerely with one hand extended towards him. His heart raced at her words and he didn't know why. He fought the urge to slap her considerate gesture away. He felt angry at her at that moment, so fucking angry. Didn't she realize what was happening to her? Why was she being so attentive anyway—because—didn't she hate him? She had to hate him after everything that he had done. After seeing all those damn pictures on the wall and Natalie's fate, he would have thought that she would be frightened as the time shed off seconds of everyone's lives. Instead, there she sat with one arm slightly extended and sincere emerald eyes gazing at him with slight concern.
Hate, what a corrosive word to describe such an idle emotion. Hate is what he felt then, not at her, not at anything in particular at all. His hate stemmed from the absurdity of the situation and feelings that he could no longer control. His heavy eyes narrowed on her, his left eye remembering the past, remembering her hand holding his while he shook that one late night after meeting Alyssa for the first time. After all that had happened, Faye Valentine didn't look one bit fragile or fearful. What had Jet told him once? Yes, that he who shows no fear while the rest around him are panicking has yet to fully grasp his situation. Was that Faye's problem? Had she yet to fully grasp everything evolving around her? No, the woman seemed afraid all those times, so fearful for her own life. This was different.
"Spike, what the fuck is wrong with you? I'm just offering help, you invalid. No need to look at me like I'm insane." She blurted out taking back her hand and pursing her lips into a prideful pout.
Spike didn't respond, but kept on walking towards his room. A tiny smirk played on his lips. That woman was so confusing and intriguing. That dumb shrew had some hidden kindness which he hated so much, because it made him want to care for her. It nearly forced him to tell her to stop and let herself go. Let all those emotions and resentments she had because of the past go. Then again, who was he to talk about the past that way? He felt like bursting out in laughter or bursting out in guilt, whichever it was.
I will destroy that which you care for the most.
His thoughts trembled along with rest of his limbs. When had he grown to care for her this much anyway? When had he grown to want to know so much about her? It wasn't about her. His confusion and emotions stemmed from the bomb, and goddamn Alyssa and her sick plans and—well—certainly not Faye.
He entered his dark room and didn't bother to flip the switch. He knew exactly where his pill bottle lay, and he reached towards his bed to grab it. His heart jumped when he felt the pill bottle reach towards him instead.
"Here," Julia's voice emerged, and he stood frozen, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. If it were possible to describe what touching nothingness was like, then it would be like sensing irony with the tips of one's fingers. She sat on his crumpled sheets sporting that glowing and knowing pensive sapphire glare. He had been holding on to her hand and the pill bottle so tightly as if to grasp any sensation of hers. Realizing he would feel nothing but a cold numbing tingling, he let her hand go and grabbed his pill bottle. "I know when it happened," she said leaning her head back with her arms propped up behind her on the bed.
"When what?" He asked after he had popped the pill into his mouth, but his seizure had ceased already. She glanced at him again and he could almost feel her glare sinking into him and through him.
"When you fell in love with her." The bottle slipped from his hand and bounced slightly off the metal floor. Usually, he would have reacted by then, responded by then, and stopped the bottle before it hit the floor. It seemed as though his mind had a mental block on the subject that disallowed him to process the entire concept. "Well, at least when a part of you realized it. After all, falling in love is such an unpredictable thing." Her tone sounded like those in videos where they try to teach teenagers about sex ed. That all-knowing tone that screamed "you've just learned something new," when in reality, nearly everyone knew at least the basics or more before watching the video. Those that bragged usually knew the least about the subject, and the rest were too embarrassed to admit they did. Was he the bragger or just embarrassed?
She stood up still staring through him so transparently that he thought he might be the one to vanish instead of her. "You see, it was when she disappeared that a part of you first realized it. Alyssa bet on it based on some show on your part, but you really knew when life threatened to take it away from you."
"Take it away from me again." Stop, he needed to stop himself. No revelations for tonight, Spiegel. There were too many other problems for him to admit or realize anything right then. Too many, his mind whispered as he crumpled his fist.
"But just because you love her doesn't give you the right to choose her fate for her." Julia neared him and for some reason his heart punched his chest continually as an anxious fear filled his lungs.
"Wh-," He took in a deep breath. "What are you talking about?"
"Why would 'Faye thank you when she's going to die'?" Julia didn't ask, she stated. "She doesn't have a bomb in her Spike. The city does. Have you chosen the nine million people over Faye?" His eyes widened and a hot wave of claustrophobia drowned him.
It's nine million people or her…
"No, I haven't—it's not—fuck." Truthfully, he had not chosen anything. To him, it had never been his choice. It hadn't been his choice to be alive. It hadn't been his choice for Alyssa to use Faye against him. How could any of this be his choice? Choices are mere illusions in life. They had always been an illusion in his life.
"So then are you going to let nine million people die?"
The Hammerhead's engine bellowed throughout the Bebop announcing the—god, thank you—much awaited return of Jet Black. So little Spiegel ran away like a frightened child, away from the ever-so-knowing parent ready to teach him a lesson or two. He ran away before he learned too much for his own good and before he started confusing the memory of Julia for this ghost that every so often stood in front of him like she had done in the past.
"Jet, fucken finally. Where the hell have you been?" Spike muttered climbing down the stairs and attacking his comrade for answers. Ed, who had planted herself in a spot under the metal stairs, perked her head up as Jet entered like a wary salesman into the lounge with a medium-sized white box in his hands.
"Is that a gift for Ed?" She inquired, somewhat preoccupied with whatever contraption she had been working on for the last two hours.
"No Ed, but I need you to do something right now. I know you're busy, but this is important." Jet frowned as he said it. Ed muttered an incoherent word that sounded like 'nyah' and slid her goggles to the top of her forehead. "I need you to find everything you can about Erica Fullop. I want to know who she really is." Ed stared with a puzzled gleam in her eyes.
"Erica Fullop. Erica, America, where are you from?" She slid her goggles on and slipped into her sea of colorful doodles, codes, and electronic pathways.
"Natalie? What's this all of the sudden?" Spike bellowed perplexedly annoyed. "And what the hell is that?" He pointed at Jet's box.
"Hey, neither of you have any right to be angry at me. I just spent two hours straight digging through boxes like this to find…" He turned the box around and pointed at the name written on there with a black marker. Spike read the year and then the name, Henri Reve.
"What is that?" Faye inquired. The box really didn't mean much to Spike either.
"You two don't know much of anything. It's a cold case box. At first, I doubted they kept one, but they do for any open cases. Just to keep some evidence and whatnot. After they're solved, they throw the stuff away and keep it stored in the system instead." The large metal arm set the box down and opened it. Spike peeked inside curiously afraid of it for some reason. Perhaps because he would find something that would harm him more than help him.
The box held a folder with some papers, evidence photos, coroner's report and other nonsensical stuff that Spike didn't bother to read too carefully. His Reve's wallet lay in there along with some other personal belongings.
"What about the undercover cop though, Erica Fullop?" Spike recalled his line of questioning as Faye pried the box away from him.
"Well, I was wondering why ISSP had her investigation aborted so dramatically. It turns out her death wasn't nearly as important to investigate as something else." Jet glanced towards Ed.
"What?"
"Agent Erica Fullop was not really ISSP. They discovered that her records don't make sense, because they were falsified. She was assigned to her mission about a year ago, and now there's an internal affairs investigation going on to find out why in the hell no one noticed that Erica Fullop didn't exist until then." Jet rubbed his eyebrow back and forth as if trying to understand the details himself. He reached down to grab a folder that Faye had pulled out of the box and discarded on the table.
"I don't know how this helps us." Spike muttered still staring at his comrade with utter confusion. Jet ignored him and began thumbing through the report, while Faye examined the small belongings. One particular item, a silver necklace with a cross pendant on it, caught her attention, and she sat there for a bit mesmerized and intrigued by it. That woman could be so easily distracted sometimes. Spike glanced again in the box and spotted the corner of a thin plastic case jutting out of a half-burnt book.
"What's this?" He asked to no one in particular as he pulled it out. Jet pointed to the computer sitting next to the box. After placing the disc inside, he accessed it to find only a video feed file. It was titled Alyssa Reve.
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She grinned brightly at the camera and then ran towards a large tree in the background. The curls danced against her back as her little feet bounced off the ground. Her simple white dress sparkled in the sunlight and her little gloved hands touched the tree with delight before turning back to the camera again.
"And this here is Grandpere, and that's well, because I never really had a grandpere and I figured that this very old and tall tree must be some little trees' grandpere." Alyssa's cheeks had become flushed from the small run.
"Oh, how's Grandpere feeling today?" A man's voice echoed in the background. Alyssa smiled and whispered to the tree in French.
"He's very good today because the sun's particularly bright." She uttered, nodding her head. A gasp emerged from her lips when she felt some small crawling on her hand. A brownish lizard had curiously made its way to the little French girl, and Alyssa—quite frightened by the obtrusive little thing—shook it off her hand followed by a yelp and an eager stomp of her foot.
"Alyssa!" The man's voice said quite apprehensively. "Qu'est-ce que tu fait?"
Spike frowned, he didn't understand much French at all, and by the grunt that Jet made, he probably didn't either. The film had hardly anything useful on it anyway, so he began to lean over to the computer to turn it off. It was then that Faye placed her palm on his hand, and he glanced at her. Her emerald eyes remained somberly transfixed on the film.
"Why did you do that, Alyssa?" Faye spoke after the man's voice. Spike's eyes widened and he slowly lowered his hand. "It scared me." Faye translated little Alyssa's response.
"You could have just set it down and let it go. You didn't have to do that." Alyssa frowned and glanced down. A man emerged into the picture, Henri Reve. He crouched down to her level and lifted her chin up. "Listen to me, you should never take a life because you can, you understand?" Faye's voice became quieter.
"I'm sorry, papa. I understand." She responded.
"Promise me you won't do that." Spike could hear a slight hesitation in Faye's voice and as he glanced back at her he noticed she had the crucifix pendant crumpled in her fist, the long silver chain slipping out of the cracks between her fingers. Her eyes had become opaque with an odd kind of sadness.
"I won't, but…" Alyssa hesitated. "Only if you promise me you won't ever leave me like mama." Faye breathed in deeply.
"Of course not, my little doll. Never."
Out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw as Jet reached over and stopped the film. They remained silent for a few minutes Spike's gaze fixed on Faye, while she had sheepishly or irritably darted her glare to the ground.
"I didn't know you spoke French." Jet sliced open the silence. Faye glanced up at Spike. He couldn't quite comprehend what her eyes tried to tell him. If they were eyes full of anger, or hate, or fear, or all the above, he had no idea anymore. Then it hit him, why Faye had been acting so careless earlier. She had probably chosen her life already over the rest of the city, and seeing Natalie's traumatic death had probably propelled her to that decision. In her head, there must have been some logical rationalization she had made up. Something like it wasn't her fault after all that this was happening. This lay on the shoulders of both him and Alyssa, but not her. She couldn't help that some psycho had decided she wanted to blow up the city. Like hell she would let herself die like Natalie, no, a whole city would have to fall before she did that.
Spike understood her glare then. She had come to the realization that it wouldn't be so easy anymore. She couldn't detach herself anymore, and this forced Spike Spiegel to come a realization of his own.
I will not the same mistake twice. I will not lose someone else to revenge.
"I did this, Faye, to you. Nine million people might die, because of me." Spike's mismatched russet eyes stared deep into hers, so deep that his guilt sank into her strange kind of warmth. Her eyes narrowed on him and as her lips parted to respond, fear clutched at his throat. He wanted to laugh in spite of himself. Here stood a man that had overcome anything with nonchalance, but the measly probability that this woman might despise him more than anything—which before he rather enjoyed the thought that she tried, but deep inside wouldn't—frightened him.
"Let's stop her. I don't care how we do it, but let's—goddamn do it." With unrelenting eyes and a stern voice, she spoke and stood up. Her shoulders lagged a little as if a heavy weight pulled down on the slender woman, probably Spike's guilt that she had to bear along with the rest of Alba.
"Found you!" Ed suddenly shouted out and attracted the attention of the rest of the crew. "Erica Fullop's last known real name is Natalie Remords, special ops agent in the hush-hush military. She was signed on as an employee under Biometrics Technology five years ago."
Spike shot up from his seat. Biometrics Technology had a familiar ring to it. His brow furrowed in frustration as he dug through the chaotic remains of thought-process abilities in his mind. Then it finally hit him and he threw an alarmed glance over at Jet.
"Holy shit," was all Jet seemed able to mutter. Spike's stomach had dropped to the ground.
"Well, what is it?" Faye questioned with an irritated expression at the fact she had been left out of their conversation.
"Alyssa's father, Henri Reve, worked for Biometrics Technology." Spike watched as her eyes widened. They urgently beseeched him to recall something he had forgotten entirely.
"I've dealt with these bombs before, you know that. I know how they work and this is…" Natalie swallowed the last word. "Impossible." She spat it back out in a whisper.
Spike mentally reproached himself. How could he have missed that completely?
Jet stood up after her and as he did a small object fell to the ground, the old half broken remote. The hologram screen turned on and the monotonous voice of the newscast filled the room.
"We are continuing our live coverage on the Oak School tragedy and we bring you this special report update straight from the City Council office. Earlier tonight, the Tri-Cities Council of Mars placed a bounty worth 100 million woolongs for the capture of the mastermind behind the Oak School Terrorist attack." The woman explained as the large number flashed on the screen. The woman's idle voice filled the halls of the Bebop as she continued on with her dramatized recalling of the tragic events of the day.Spike stood up with both his comrades on each side and glared at the screen.
"So we'll do what we do best." Jet stated. "We're bounty hunters. This is another bounty and we have the upper hand. Let's catch it."
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They decided to split up the tasks. Jet would try and investigate the missing pieces of Henri Reve's and Natalie's connection to Biometrics. Ed had already given Faye the task of attaching some contraption she made onto the largest antenna on Mars owned by CBC News. It would help Ed split the signal so whatever she found wouldn't be broadcasted all over the Solar System—or some hacker junk like that. Spike hadn't been too thrilled about Faye going off on her own. Then again lately he had been neglecting the fact that not only could the shrew take care of herself, but his constant fretting for her safety had seriously started to concern him.
When you fell in love with her…
This was a bad time for self-reflection on his actions anyway. He needed to focus on the task at hand, because it might just save her. Damn, there went the concern again rearing its unsightly face in his thoughts. He rubbed his temples at a weak attempt to ease away any deep meaningful and useless thoughts. Yeah, totally useless.
They had agreed to reconvene at the Bebop in about four hours—not nearly enough time to gather any sort of useful information, but it would have to do. This had become a bounty hunting job, but only for the mere purpose of psychological ease. The problems remained the same. A bomb would still explode in less than two days and Faye, along with the rest of them, still ran the risk of losing her life.
Spike's head throbbed from guilt, exhaustion, or perhaps mere frustration. He had this odd nervousness about him, and every time he closed his eyes they stung. They stung so badly he thought he would end up in tears, and the random spouts of urges to gag that came along with it had begun to annoy him. That had always bothered him. Anyone could convince their mind to back off a thought or feeling, but the body always refused. It had this revolutionary sense of self, and with some compelling justification it would rebel against all wishes of the mind. If Spike needed to be calm, his head would throb. If he needed to sleep, the very sound of his heart beating would keep him awake. If he needed to focus, his ears would ring and he would lose complete balance over his limbs.
Just focus Spiegel. Focus and it'll all come to you. The solution to it all is right in front of me. I just can't see it, because I can't focus on it.
He had spent the past three hours of the early morning or very late night chasing clues around the city—that by the way is supposed to never sleep—trying to find remnants from the company Henri Reve had worked for, Biometrics Labs. All the nonsense and directions he received led him to an abandoned building in the warehouse district. It had a large white sign and black letters, which read 'Condemned.' The area around it had been pretty much left nearly desolate, except for an old truck parked on the right side. It was a wonder that a building like this could stay empty for so long in such a large city.
Despite his pessimistic attitude, which told him that he wasted his time by even searching, he grabbed a fluorescent lamp he had brought with him and glared decisively towards the structure. He ripped off a couple boards from the entrance and trespassed into the ex-military facility. The building appeared to have two stories from the outside, but once he entered he found that the entire second floor was gone. Old boards, torn papers, broken cement, and random junk were the unhappy residents of this complex. His eyes observed his dejected surroundings once more until he squeezed them shut. He wanted to scream. Three hours of searching for fucking nothing. Nothing at all. His hand crumpled into a fist and his nails dug deep into his palm. There was no sign of the military here, but hey, at least he found some signs of life—a fucking rat, or two.
"Fuck!" He threw the lamp against one of the walls and flinched, somehow expecting that it would flatten the entire structure. The lamp crackled and then shattered once it hit the wall, and darkness consumed him once again. Where was this supposed military place anyway?
The military had always struck a raw nerve with him. Their secretiveness, the whole big guns for a bigger bang kind of thing just annoyed him. Why would anyone ever be part of some insane army of—he stopped himself in mid-thought. Well, Spike, it sounds a lot like the syndicate. Perhaps everyone thinks of organized crime like war and patriotism. There is pride. Yes, that pride to defend something you admire or established by someone you admire. Then there are the lackeys like he used to be. People not fighting for pride or anything in particular, but because they just found nothing better to do.
A sudden alert that someone watched him snapped his self-righteous thoughts out of his mind. He exited the abandoned building as he heard the sound of footsteps growing closer. To his misfortune, he happened to be an area devoid of proper lighting and that prohibited him from clearly seeing the two people approaching him.
"Spike Spiegel." The firm voice didn't ask, he stated.
"Who are you?" His eyes quickly adapted to the darkness. Two men stood before him, both thin, but built. Both stood in the same rigid manner with their chins high and their shoulders snapped back.
"We would like you to come with us." The one on the right told him in a monotonous command.
"Yeah, and I'd like a 100 million woolongs." He scoffed at them.
"That can be arranged." The same man responded and Spike's dark eyes narrowed. The man's tone hadn't changed. He was actually serious.
"What do you want?" Annoyed—that was the only word he found to describe his reaction at the moment—annoyed, and perhaps apprehensive.
"Information." The man on the left answered this time. "More specifically, information about Alyssa Reve."
Spike examined them a bit longer and then understood. The supposed military he had been searching for had found him instead. A sign of hope emerged for him, but also a bit of worry crept into his mind. Just how much did they know? Did they know about Faye and if they did, what did they want?
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"We really do not want any trouble Mr. Spiegel." An old man said as he offered Spike some tea. He gently smiled at the younger man, and his gray eyebrows curled down with content. His pulse slightly shook as he held out the saucer and the tea cup fumbled at the lack of balance. Spike shook his head and glanced around, once again trying to ease the uncomfortable feeling the entire place gave him. The two men had escorted him to a black car and led him into a large microchip manufacturing building. They confiscated his Jericho temporarily, or so they said, and led him into a large top floor office where he found himself face-to-face with General Michael Perkins. "As you can guess, we are a privately run company that just so happens to be overseen by the Martian Military. Biometrics merged secretively four years ago with the Sirius Corporation, well-known for being the largest weapons technology manufacturers in all the solar system." Old Perkins placed the tea cup down much to Spike's relief and turned to face him with another one of his grandfatherly smiles. He definitely hadn't been the kind of man Spike expected to be running a huge weapons manufacturing company. Perkins should have been on television surrounded by little brats as he narrated Alice in Wonderland.
"Alyssa worked for you. You sent Natalie after her." Spike stated. That's all Perkins would have needed to say to keep Spike interested. Perkins' hands clasped together and his grin grew wider as if completely impressed that Spike had figured it all out. What was he going to do next? Here's a buck son, go buy yourself a lollipop?
"Not worked, works." His wrinkles narrowed around his blue eyes. "You see, she disappeared on us about a year ago in the middle of a project that is still pending. Natalie proved to be more of a liability than a solution." His eyes became somber. "You're the only civilian Alyssa's contacted in over a year and I want to know why Mr. Spiegel."
"I don't think so. What's in it for me?" A bit of acid rose to Spike's throat. Time ticked away and old pops here was wasting it.
"We are the ones that supplied the Tri-Cities Council with the 100 million woolongs reward." His tone remained gentle and cheerful. Spike simply glared at him, trying to unmask the hard façade of the man before him.
And it all came together. The bomb incident had frightened the crap out of the Sirius Corporation, who probably feared that someone would connect the dots if they discovered the technology had the signature of the Corporation on it, and if they traced Natalie back to Sirius like he had. This man—no matter how politely or carefully—actually had the gall of insinuating that Spike be bait for Alyssa.
"You killed her father." Perkins voice suddenly hardened. His real nature began to surface as he resorted to his real intention the minute his efforts to con Spike had been exhausted.
"The answer is no." Spike stood up and Perkins shot up from his chair slamming his fist on the desk. Spike narrowed his eyes at the man's hand that only minutes ago had been trembling by the mere weight of a tea cup. The two men that had been standing behind Spike the whole time pulled out their guns.
"You are in no position to refuse." Perkins spoke slowly emphasizing every word. Spike glanced down at his digital watch and breathed in slowly.
"Do you know what a Membranic Trace is?" Spike blurted out. He too had exhausted his options.
"How do you know about that?" The man's wrinkled brow furrowed.
"Do you know how to stop it?" Spike's heart started beating with anticipation, hope, and fear. There was a way to save her, to help her, and he would find it. He was so close to finding it.
"That's impossible. The Membranic Trace is only a theory, and that would mean that…" The old man swallowed his last words in a heavy gulp and his blue eyes had a startled expression in them as if Spike had just told him that his long lost granddaughter was alive. He looked nearly about to cry, but to Spike, all old people had that appeared that way when they wore a somber expression on their face. "She made it?"
"Can you stop it?" Spike's fist clenched anxiously.
"We'd have to see it first." General Perkins looked like nothing but a confused old man as he fell back into his chair. His voice had ceased to threaten; instead a tone of pure preoccupation trembled in his words. "Is it in you?"
"No. I'll bring it to you." Spike turned around and headed towards the door until the two men stopped him. Perkins waved at them, and they lowered their guns allowing Spike to exit the office.
"I won't let her win just yet." Spike muttered to himself as he determinedly rushed back to the Bebop.
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As Spike entered the Bebop, he tried to formulate a convincingly witty plan that might persuade Faye into being a military rat. The taxi ride had been long and dreadful, and he should have made his plans during it, but cabs brought about a feeling of claustrophobia in him. He shouldn't have left the Swordfish II at that abandoned warehouse, but he barely had time to think, before he had stepped inside the military boys' car. With a sigh, he slipped into the hangar and entered the hall leading inside the ship. He heard her voice and his heart jumped. He hadn't really intended to be an hour late or to listen in for that matter, but her tone had somehow willed his body to a stop.
"Damn it!" The sound of a fist pounding against Jet's chest startled Spike. Then he heard a couple of clicks of her heels. Spike instantly wished he had caught the first part of their conversation.
"Faye?" Jet's voice shook with concern.
"Today." A long pause followed and then, "today is my birthday." She uttered so softly as if she almost didn't believe it. She chuckled a few times and ended her sarcastic laughter with a scoff. "But then Alyssa probably planned it this way."
"You never told me," was all that Jet managed to say.
"Yeah, I turn the big two-five today. I wonder how many people will be celebrating their birthdays today with their families. With a cake, maybe some ice cream, and maybe some friends over. How do twenty-five year old girls celebrate their birthdays nowadays?" Her low tone bounced softly off the walls.
"I wouldn't kn-," Jet started, but Faye interrupted him. It had been a rhetorical question after all.
"You know, I didn't celebrate my nineteenth birthday. It was my last birthday back then." She sighed a long pause and then let out choked consonant. "I wish I had."
"I'm sorry." He muttered remorsefully, and Faye laughed a sincere kind of laugh like he had said the funniest little thing in the world. Spike had never really heard her laugh - only chuckle and most of all, snicker. She didn't have a haughty pretentious kind of laugh like he expected, but nice and mellow one with a down to earth lull to it. She sounded… pretty.
"Jesus, Jet." Her tone was so unexpectedly bright it might have blinded the sound waves. "I was expecting some money or something, not an apology. Figures, everyone on this ship is so damn cheap." She laughed again and her heels clicked against the metal floor twice.
"Faye?" Jet called out. "He didn't mean for you to go through this. He just doesn't know how to say it." A sigh, Spike couldn't tell from who, preceded a small moment of silence.
"Thanks Jet." Her steps echoed through the hall as she walked away. Once they had grown distant enough, Jet spoke again.
"How long are you going to stand there?" He asked and Spike shrugged, feeling as though he'd been caught red-handed in mischief. He emerged from his spot and faced the large man that now glared sternly at him.
"Yo. Sorry I'm late." Spike gave him a small apathetic wave.
"She deserves to know, Spike, why this is happening to her. You ought to tell her." His dark eyes deepened their focus almost at an attempt to burn Spike with guilt. He shrugged not really knowing how to respond. "It's not fair to her."
"I know, but right now I have something important to tell you." He copped out. "I think I may have found a chance after all."
A chance to dance with the devil.
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Oh loyal readers, I am so sorry it's taken so long. Next chapter will hopefully be out much faster than this one. This one was holy hell kind of hard. I hope you enjoyed it and I know it's kind of like meh towards the end, but that's because I'm building you up for something else.
Thanks to all my reviewers and a special shout out to the FayexSpike lj community for their wonderful support and help. They're just plain fun people to hang around. Thank you Red-Tenko for being my wonderful 'philosophe' and muse. Your editing was wonderful. Kaj, goddess of grammar, thank you for the lovely work you put into this one. Thanks to Beta 1 for being my sound board for all my ideas.
Lyrics found in the summary are from "Strange Love" sang by Sarah Brightman.
Thanks for reading!
Next Time:
"Ed, what the hell was that?" Faye's voice shuddered with confusion.
"Ed will slow down the signal and see…" She tapped some keys here and there. "And there." She pressed her last key with extra emphasis. Spike's eyes widened, and his breath caught in his throat. He hoped to God, if there was a God, that what he feared wouldn't be true. To his dismay, he was about to find out he was right…