"Julia."

Spike stood motionless in the rain, eyes locked on the vision in front of him. They stood ten feet apart in the graveyard. He met her gaze unflinchingly, though his fists clenched uncertainly in his trenchcoat pockets. Time stood still, and all was silent save the incessant drone of the raindrops meeting concrete and grass. Taking a tentative step forward, Julia dropped her head so her long spun gold locks drew together over her face like a soaking curtain. Her gait quickened and she stopped when she reached him, her watery grey-blue gaze rising to meet his dark steadfast one.

"It was raining that day as well." She gasped slightly and then drew her lips into a smirk.

"There was no way I could have gone with you, Spike. I stayed with Vicious." His eyebrows drew together quizzically, searching her eyes for an answer, but her countenance revealed nothing. "I had to."

"Julia, what…"

"I was pregnant, Spike." He gasped this time.

"Was it…"

"No. Vicious is the father." She turned and gestured towards the stairs behind her, and a few seconds later, a boy, about 2 years old came toddling around the corner. Eyes grey as the overcast sky blinked through a shade of wispy, dry platinum blonde hair from under a small, red umbrella. "His name is Spike."

To Spike, she suddenly seemed to be at least ten years older than the last time he had seen her, though it had only been just shy of three years since. He crouched down to look at the child and saw a curious expression displayed on an angelic chubby face. "Who t'at, mommy?"

"That's Spike. I told you about him, remember?"

The younger Spike broke into a grin. "Mommy, his name's like mine." He uttered with a hint of a lisp, and his mother reached and grasped his hand.

"That's right, honey. You were named after him." Spike was at a loss for words, to say the least. He stood slowly and glanced at Julia, awaiting some sort of elaboration. He didn't have to wait long.

"Listen, Spike, I need to tell you. Vicious…he hired me to seduce you all those years ago. He wanted to…to destroy you from the inside, he was going to use me against you. I went along with it, I loved him and would do anything for him; to make him happy. Once I became pregnant, and you were making plans to get out, I began having doubts. He went completely crazy that day he killed your father and thought he killed you—though I knew you had escaped, I didn't tell him because although I never loved you, I sympathized and finally acknowledged I didn't love Vicious anymore. I wanted then to get out too, but by then he had realized I was pregnant and made me marry him. I hadn't really wanted to, but I had no other choice.

"He believed his revenge on you had been exacted—he blamed you for the deaths of his parents and hated you and your father no matter how he covered it pretending as though he loved you like a brother. I knew he was planning to rebel and knowing I could have done something to stop all those deaths has eaten away at me over the last few years. I carry more guilt than I know how to handle, and now I know with you here, I need to rid myself of this life before it kills me. I need to take this opportunity to get away from him now. For Spike." She cast a glance at her son, innocently playing with the umbrella, oblivious to the revelations being discovered over his head. The elder Spike sighed, his mind swirling with the information he had just been given, and he gave a slight, hesitant nod.

"You never loved me?"

"I couldn't love you. I was blind then, too involved with Vicious to realize his ulterior motives. I always liked you though." She gave a lopsided, watery smile and sighed. "Spike, I want you to know…I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for everything. I was stupid."

"Forgiven." She glanced up at him, eyes wide in shock. "I understand, Julia. I'm going to end this. For Spike. For me. For you. It needs to end now."

Julia gasped in relief and threw herself into his arms, grateful tears falling and mingling with the now-relenting rain. "Thank you." He held her for a few moments and then she pulled back, wiping her eyes gently with a few fingers. The little boy tugged at her soaking trenchcoat, wide eyes peering curiously from under the red umbrella.

"Mommy what's going to happen?" She straightened herself and crouched down to look him in the eye.

"Spike here is going to help us get away from daddy and live by ourselves together. How does that sound?" Anyone would think she just promised her son a lifetime of candy, the way his smile beamed with delight. He dropped his umbrella, turned and launched himself at Spike's legs, who in turn chuckled lightly and lowered himself to wrap his own arms around the small child. He glanced back at Julia, whose gratitude shone through overwhelmingly in her eyes.

Her emotions solidified his impression that she was nothing like the aloof, seductive woman he had so foolishly fallen in love with. He had come to terms with that fact now, and after so long wishing she would have stayed with him forever, he finally understood. As soon as he ended what he had been intending to end ever since the day his alleged best friend had turned on him, he would be free. Julia would be free. They could escape everything that had mutually held them back, separately.

It was obvious to him now, if nothing else, that he belonged on the Bebop. More specifically, with Faye. He had been in love with her so long, now he could finally let go of the obligations keeping him from her, and he could be happy. Finally. The thought made him giddy, and he had to restrain himself from jumping with excitement. A wide, unhindered smile spread across his face, and his eyes glittered. The rain ceased. He stood again, as did Julia. Sobering quickly, he remembered the obstacle he had yet to overcome, and took a deep breath. His burgundy eyes locked again with cornflower and Julia smiled again.

"Thank you, Spike. I won't forget you. I hope you make it out of this—Faye is probably waiting for you." His face went slack with surprise before he remembered who had met with Julia to tell him of this meeting in the first place. A sly grin graced his features.

"Yes. But she deserves to be with me when I can guarantee I'll be there. I must take care of things first." He frowned, contemplating this. He couldn't tell her he loved her, though the feeling threatened to overwhelm him. He couldn't tell her, but he had to say goodbye before he met his demons. Swallowing thickly, he steeled himself to go back to the Bebop. She wasn't going to like what he had to tell her. It was cruel to leave her in the dark about his feelings, but necessary. If he indeed came back, then he could tell her everything. Only then would he be free to.

"Goodbye, Julia."

----------

The first thing he was aware of was a bright light penetrating his foggy mind. The second thing was that he was aware of something. Blinking rapidly, he tried to clear the haze when he acknowledged the beeping sound to his left was accelerating in rate. His breath was quick yet steady; not gasping, but not calm either. His arms and legs hung like wet noodles from his joints, and he winced in pain as his muscles protested when he lifted his right arm to see an IV needle leading from his elbow to a bag of fluid hung up next to his bed. He swallowed, his tongue dry and swollen in his mouth with a putrid taste lingering in the buds. His head was spinning, and he lay practically still as he allowed it to regroup and form whole thoughts.

Suddenly, his peace was disrupted when the door to his little hospital room burst open. He blinked languidly and tried to look down and focus on the person who entered, but his feet were in the way of his line of sight to the door. The mystery person took a few hesitant steps forward, their shoes slapping the floor and echoing in the almost-silent room. A raven-topped head came into view followed by a pair of astonished azure eyes and a mouth parted in a gasp. The man swallowed and Spike stared, trying to place the familiar face in his mind, though he had more pressing questions at the moment.

"Where am I?" Voice hoarse from lack of use, he croaked in a whisper.

"The hospital. You…you're really awake this time, aren't you?" He frowned in confusion, trying to remember what was the last thing he remembered.

"What? How long have I been here?"

"Um…" The other man looked upwards, a calculating expression on his face as he counted the times gone by, and reached over to the lever at the bedside so he could sit almost upright. Spike sighed heavily and winced as his body bent at the waist, his jaw clenched in preparation for the truth, realizing it must have been a very long time if he had to count it in his head. "Two and a half years?"

"Damn." He muttered and fell silent again.

"Spike?" The other man had moved to the edge of his bed, and nervously put his hands in his jean pockets. He grunted a 'hm' for him to continue.

"If you don't mind my asking…what happened that day when your father died, and Vicious rebelled?" Spike snapped his eyes up, narrowing in question.

"Why do you want to know? How would know of it?" The young man's voice grew soft, intimidated slightly by the man still laying weak on the hospital bed.

"My father was…involved. You know him. Tornado Raines." A puzzle piece fitted into place in Spike's mind, and he nodded.

"You're his kid, Rocky, right?" Rocky nodded. "I wondered what had happened to old Tornado after that. I owe him my life for helping me get out of there. When things turned bad, he opened up the back door for me and stayed to fend off more of Vicious' thugs. Why? What happened to him?" Rocky swallowed and closed his eyes.

"He was injured. Badly. He's been in a coma ever since."

"I'm sorry." He whispered. "Did you…did you help me when…this happened?" He gestured to his body, his meaning obvious.

"Yes. I did. I paid for your life support and everything. Father would have wanted it. And now that you're awake, I guess it's paid off, hasn't it?" He smiled bitterly, and Spike chuckled humorlessly, his eyes becoming hazy, though not due to his health.

"He's a good man. I love him like a second father, and if it weren't for him and all he taught me, I wouldn't be here today." Pausing, he chuckled again. "Not here as in coming out of a coma in the hospital, but alive." Rocky's lip curled upward a tiny bit, not missing his usage of present tense rather than past when referring to his father.

"Yeah. He is." They stayed silent for a while, an unspoken mutual respect passing through the air between them. Clearing his throat gently, Rocky was the first to break the silence.

"The doctors should be up here in a sec, your monitor's wired to the network to detect any changes, which is why I was sent up here to see if it was an emergency. As it isn't, they aren't really rushing, but once they get here, they'll unhook you and start immediately on your physical therapy."

"Hold on, physical therapy?"

"You can't possibly be able to even stand on your own after two and a half years in a coma." He gently stated, shaking his head discouragingly, but his eyes were comforting. Spike sighed deeply and stared at his hands in his lap. He searched his mind for a clue, any hint of where to go from there, knowledge of losing two and a half years of his life only to be told he had to stay there even longer weighing heavily on his frustrations. He realized he had to do something.

"Rocky…I hate to ask after all you've already done, but is there any way you could…do me another favor?"