Midnight Blues

2. Monster

Faye took her time getting out of bed. She had always hated waking up in space, because out in the cold expanses between stars there was no morning. There was just one long, never-ending night as they floated through the emptiness. It made her feel tiny, unimportant. She grimaced. Contemplation of human insignificance was never a good way to start the day. A yawn overtook her as she stretched sleep leaden limbs.

Gathering up the necessary items, she made her way to the bathroom, footsteps echoing through the metal corridors of the ship. The unpleasant taste in her mouth spurred her to brush her teeth, relishing in the refreshing minty flavor. Stripping down, she turned on the shower. The water was hot, just like she liked it. She stepped in with a tiny gasp as the hot water hit her skin, slowly relaxing tense muscles. She had grown accustomed to having hot showers when Spike had gone. In the past he had always gotten to the shower before her, using up all the hot water so that she had had to suffer through a cold wash. She had thought it would go back to the way it had been before when he finally came back, but instead she found that the once infuriatingly driven man she had known was gone, replaced by a man empty of all motivation. What had happened to him when he was gone? Something terrible by the look of him when he had returned, but he had fended off any and all questions about what he had gone through during his absence with frustrating nonchalance. The crew of the Bebop had gone back to pretending everything was the same as it had always been, but the forced normality hung precariously in the balance. Faye shrugged. It didn't matter. What mattered was that she was there, in the hot shower that was not going to stay hot for very much longer.

The bathroom was full of steam when she finally stepped out from under the stream of water and shut it off. Her reflection was a dark splash in the fogged mirror as she dried herself and dressed. She stopped by her quarters to drop off her things and then idly made her way to the kitchen in search of sustenance. It was empty of both life and her quarry. She made a mental note to badger Jet into going on a supply run, but then she remembered that they did not have the money to do so. With a disgruntled sigh, she mentally tore up the note and burned it, watching the pieces blacken and curl, before making a new note to badger Jet into finding them some bounties. After searching the entire galley she managed to locate some instant coffee and some suspiciously lumpy powdered milk. Her stomach gurgled apprehensively.

"I know what you mean," she muttered dryly as she headed off with her prize to find Jet.

Spike awoke slowly. He was sprawled on his stomach, head half buried under a pillow, one arm dangling over the side of the bed. Yawning, he pushed himself up into a sitting position on the edge of his bed and rubbed sleep-fogged eyes. Leaning down he rummaged through the pile of rumpled clothes on the floor coming up with a dented box of smokes and a lighter. A rumble in his stomach reminded him how long it had been since he'd last eaten. Slipping the lighter into his pocket, he made his way towards the galley of the Bebop in the hopes that maybe Jet had made something palatable for breakfast. He padded down the hallway, bare feet making hardly a sound as he passed through the chill corridors of the ship.

The galley when he reached it was devoid of all forms of life. Spike scratched the back of his neck and padded over to the refrigerator. It, like the kitchen, was empty. A long time ago he seemed to remember the thing being used to hold food. Now it seemed that the old relic was being kept on the ship for nostalgia's sake alone. His stomach grumbled again.

The sound of footsteps alerted him to the presence of another life form, and from the sound of it, one with two legs and— "Well if it isn't sleeping ugly."—an attitude.

Spike groaned. There was no way he was going to stick around long enough to listen to the shrew woman's bitching. A morning person he was not, and that particular morning was no exception. Putting an unlit cigarette in his mouth and shoving his hands in his pockets, he turned away from the empty refrigerator and began to walk out of the galley. "It's too early for this."

"Early? Do you have any idea what time it is?" Faye snickered, hopping up to sit on the dining table, a steaming mug of coffee in her hands. "No I don't suppose you do. Looking at a clock would take too much effort."

Spike shot her a dirty look.

"Are you going to light that?" she asked, gesturing to the unlit smoke dangling from his lips. "It's not gonna light itself, you know. I never thought you could be that lazy."

Spike looked down at the cigarette in his mouth, eyes crossing comically sending Faye into a fit of giggles. "Whatever," he muttered, lighting the slim white cigarette with practiced ease. "I'm gonna find something to eat."

"Good luck, lunkhead. I've already combed the ship through and through. But I wouldn't be surprised if you managed to come up with something. You know what they say…Men only think with their stomachs and their—"

"Faye," Spike cut her off. "Shut up."

"Awww, no need to get touchy." Faye smirked, enjoying the fact that she was the cause of the annoyance written across the lanky bounty hunter's face. "I was just stating a well known fact."

The nagging hunger in Spike's stomach had grown more insistent as the minutes passed. His eyes flickered to the mug in her hands. There was nothing for it. Suppressing his mind's immediate cries of horror, he took a quick drag and sauntered slowly towards his female crewmate, mismatched eyes never leaving hers. Before she realized what he was doing he had pinned her against the kitchen table with his body and placed a hand on either side of her, effectively trapping her there.

Faye looked up at him furiously. "What the fuck? Just what in the hell do you think you're doing!" she demanded, leaning away from him, unable to escape.

He lowered his head so that his breath tickled her neck. "Thinking." He whispered into her ear, leaning into her suggestively.

Faye gaped, and then he was gone walking towards the common room. "Bastard!" she shouted at his back.

Spike turned, smirking like a cat. "Awww, no need to get touchy," he mocked her. "Oh, and thanks for the coffee, by the way." He winked as toasted her with the mug he had liberated from her.

Faye glanced down at her hands, fury building inside her. The mug was indeed gone. Straightening, Faye stalked out of the kitchen after the object of her fury and found him lounging, as usual, on the yellow couch calmly sipping his coffee. Her coffee! The man drove her crazy and he knew it.

"I'm going to count down from three." She grated dangerously as she stood over him.

"I'm proud of you, Faye. I never knew you could count that far," he drawled, looking up at her mildly and taking a sip of the coffee. He could see the color rising in her cheeks, could see the anger dancing perilously in her green eyes.

"Three…" Faye growled ignoring the jibe, her voice shaking with barely suppressed rage. "Two…" Her hands balled into fists. "One…" Spike could see the muscles working in her jaw as she clenched her teeth.

"Ding." He winked.

With an incoherent shriek Faye launched herself at Spike, who leapt up in an attempt to avoid the wild attack, but was too slow. She caught him around the waist sending them both toppling backwards over the side of the couch and onto the floor. The bite of the cold metal on his bare skin made Spike hiss as he landed on his back with a loud smack. Faye fell atop him and pinned him below her with her legs.

"HA!" she cried, holding up the mug triumphantly. "That'll teach you to—" Faye frowned. The mug was empty.

"Ahem."

Both Faye and Spike froze looking up in the direction of the sound. Jet stood, arms crossed, eyes narrowed with an angry scowl painted on his craggy features. There was a large dark stain running down the front of his shirt. It was steaming slightly.

"Faye, I just thought you might like to hear about our next bounty." Jaw muscles worked as he clenched his teeth. "So when you two are finished, I'll be with my bonsai," he growled, before stalking off muttering darkly about idiots and rampaging hormones.

"Jesus, Faye! Get the hell off of me!" Spike gritted through clenched teeth as he shoved her away. "I'll be dead before I'm that desperate, " he sneered as he turned to follow Jet.

"Well since you seem to have a bit of a death wish, it looks like your desperation might get the better of you!" she shouted at his retreating figure as she stood, rubbing her shoulder. The bastard had thrown her straight into the table.

"Don't you wish! I bet you dream about it when you're alone at night," he leered at her. " Do you imagine me touching you?" He stalked back towards her. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you like it, Faye, when I fuck you?"

Faye stood, back straight, glaring at him and slapped him hard across the face. "Don't get your hopes up, cowboy," she shoved past him. "And don't do me any favors, either. I think I'd do better on my own, anyway."

She didn't wait to hear his clever response, or to find out if he even had one. Instead, she headed towards Jet and his bonsai, hoping that he wouldn't be too angry that she had splattered him with hot coffee.

Spike stood for a moment silently fuming as he watched her disappear down the corridor. That bitch. He put a hand to his stinging cheek. She hadn't just hit him in the face with that one; she had bruised his ego to boot. Hellbitch, he thought sourly as he followed her after Jet.

"Oh come on, Jet, let me handle this one! It's an easy job. Just look at the guy!" Spike said, waving the picture of a slender man with shoulder length blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Absolutely out of the question," Jet said, crossing his arms. "She's going with you, and that's that. This one has got to be a team effort. We can't afford to miss." He glared at Spike.

"You said yourself this guy, this…Timothy Sanders," he said glancing down at the picture, "is just a bank robber and an escape artist. Jet, it isn't necessary—"

"This isn't just some chance for you to showboat your skills, Spike."

Spike narrowed his eyes. "Whatever you say, old man, but when she screws up, don't come complaining to me," he said, crossing his arms defiantly. "I at least have skills to showboat."

"Excuse me, I'm right here," Faye cut in, annoyed. "I did have to handle jobs while you were gone, Spike, or have you forgotten that little episode already?"

"Faye," Jet growled, voice rising in a tone of warning. She leaned back against the wall, crossing her arms sulkily. "Like goddamn children," he muttered darkly.

"So what's so bad about this guy?" Spike finally asked after a moment of tense silence.

Jet gave Spike a look. "Timothy Sanders is ex-military." Spike stared at him blankly. "He knows what he's doing, Spike."

"Ok, and?"

Jet rolled his eyes. "He's a serial bank-buster, master escape artist—"

"Yeah, we know and are thus far unimpressed. Get to the point here, Jet."

"I don't get it, Spike. Did you just wake up one morning and decide you were going to be the biggest prick in the sector?" Jet scowled.

"Yeah, what's going on with you?" Faye added after him.

"No and nothing, get on with it," Spike said impatiently.

Jet looked unconvinced as he leafed through file in his hands. "Besides being wanted on thirty six counts of armed robbery," Spike let out a low whistle. "He's wanted on twenty one counts of murder one and five of rape." Two pairs of eyes fixed on Jet. "The rape charges are for the victims he left for dead that managed to survive."

There was a moment of silence.

"How much is he worth?"

"One hundred and seventy-five million."

Both Spike and Faye stared at Jet. "One hundred and seventy-five million?"

"Woolongs?" Faye asked, shocked.

"No, candy bars, idiot," Spike snapped.

Faye shot him a dirty look.

"This guy is dangerous," Jet interjected before the two could start a new battle. "And he has a very distinctive MO. You might want to take a look." He handed the file to Spike who scanned his eyes down the page.

"Jesus…" he whispered, eyes going wide.

"Fancies himself a master of anthropomancy," Jet went on quietly. "He reads the future in the entrails of his victims," Faye paled, one hand covering her mouth in horror. "While they're still alive," Faye let out a muffled groan as she closed her eyes. "And then he rapes them, whether they're alive or not."

"And how are we supposed to bring this guy down?" Spike asked, looking slightly sick as he handed the file to Faye.

"That's where the teamwork comes in," he said, looking at Faye. "We need someone who can get close enough to him to bring him down."

"You mean you need bait," Faye whispered, eyes fixed on the glossy photographs of past victims in the file.

"Faye—"

"Don't you try to sugar coat this, Jet!" Faye shouted, looking very pale. "Neither of you think I can pull my weight around here, and now you're going to send me into the dragon's lair. It's a win-win situation, isn't it? If I pull it off you're one hundred and seventy five million in the green and if I fuck up and he guts me like a fish, hey, at least you're rid of me!" Her voice broke on the last syllable as she stood, shaking.

"Faye—"

"NO!" She screamed and fled, tears pouring down her ashen cheeks.

Both Spike and Jet stood silently staring at the door through which Faye had so recently bolted as her footsteps receded down the corridor. "What…the hell?" Spike ran a hand through his mop of green hair. "I told you to just let me handle this one, Jet."

"Spike, you saw the file, you know that's not possible. They guy is only interested in women."

"Can't we just drop in on him and shoot him while he's surprised or something?"

Jet shook his head. "No. Four of those murders were bounty hunters that tried to do just that. He made them wish they had been one of his female victims. The guy's a psychopath."

Spike's expression turned sour. "I guess we'll have to do it your way, if you can get the shrew woman to cooperate, that is."

Jet scowled at Spike. "You know, she handled a fare number of tough jobs while you were off on your little spirit quest, Spike. She can handle herself pretty damn well."

It was Spike's turn to scowl.

"Now we're going to go talk to her about this job, so keep a civil tongue in your head or I'll throw you off this ship for good, you hear me?"

Faye leaned against the door when it had closed and buried her face in her hands. It had been a long time, such a long time since… She shoved the memories away, unable to bare the pain and revulsion they brought with them. Throwing herself on her bed, she curled into the fetal position hugging her pillow as if it were a life preserver. She shuddered.

There was no way they were going to make her play the bait. No way in hell. She had thought the name was familiar when Jet had first mentioned it, but hadn't been sure until she had seen the images of the torn and mangled bodies of his victims. Yes, she knew this man. She knew what he was capable of, and the relish he took in practicing his "art." Faye felt the urge to vomit, the corrosive taste of bile burning her throat. She would not, would never again face those brilliantly blue eyes. She would kill herself first.

There was a knock on the door. She didn't answer.

"Faye?" It was Jet.

"Go away."

"Faye, we need to talk about this."

"I said go away!" she screamed suddenly, leaping from her bed and bursting through the door. "I will not put myself in that position! Never! Never again! I will not face him again…" she trailed off, hugging herself as tears began to roll down her cheeks. "I wont… I can't…please, don't make me face him again…"

Spike had shock written all over his face, while Jet looked extremely concerned. "Faye, what are you talking about? You know this guy?"

"Know him! He, he…"

"Faye," Jet put a hand on her slightly shaking shoulder. "Faye, what happened?"

"If this is just some act because she's too scared to do the job—"

"Shut the hell up or get out," Jet snarled.

"Whatever," Spike replied, leaning indifferently against the wall and lighting a cigarette.

"A few years ago I was working a black jack table in a casino on Mars. There was a girl who worked the table with me, a friend of mine, we were roommates, and she was a favorite among the men who used to come in. One day a guy came in, long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, dressed in a white suit that seemed to glow. He stopped at our table." Faye's eyes had glazed over as she recounted the tale. "He said his name was Damien Locke. I didn't find out his real name until after…"

"After what, Faye?" Jet prompted her gently.

"He played a few hands…high roller. Lost a lot more than he won, but that smile never left his face. It started to creep me out. And then he told Cindy she was the most beautiful woman in the solar system and invited her to have a few drinks with him when her shift was over." She paused, taking a shaky breath. "I tried to warn her, but she wouldn't listen. He was beautiful," she whispered.

"Well if he knows who you are, you can't do the job." Spike said from his position on the wall. "Your lucky day."

Jet sent Spike an angry look of exasperation. "For chrissake, Spike. Have a little—"

"He doesn't know me."

Both men turned to look at Faye in surprise. "But you said—"

"Our employer had a bit of a sense of humor," Faye chuckled humorlessly. "Cindy had long black hair, deep, dark, almond shaped eyes… he liked to play us off like two sides of a coin, you know, duality. I wore a blonde wig, blue contacts and a white dress…" she said ignoring Spike's look of incredulity. "Her dress was black and…when we weren't working the tables, he liked to walk the floors, one of us on each arm, touting us as the little angel and demon at his shoulders." Her lips curled derisively. "Ebony and Ivory, he called us."

Spike snorted, "Some angel you turned out to be."

Faye's eyes snapped up in sudden anger. "I'll do it," she said glaring at Spike defiantly.

Jet looked surprised. "What?"

"I'll do it! I'll fucking do it! You didn't see what he did to her! She was still alive when I found her in our apartment. She was trying to put her intestines back inside her body, but she'd lost too much blood. She died before the medics could get there." She rounded on Spike. "And don't you fucking get in my way, asshole, or you'll wish Sanders had gotten a hold of your skinny ass." And with that she stormed away down the hall.

Jet's eyes were round with shock. "Well, that was…interesting…"

"I think she suffers from multiple personalities," Spike muttered as he finished his cigarette, tossing the spent butt through the door into Faye's room.