Midnight Blues
7. Warning Sign
Spike sighed wearily once he managed to lift Faye into the cockpit of the Swordfish. The rain had come back as he had walked through the dark city streets, Faye in his arms. His now soaked jacket was wrapped around her sleeping form as he powered up the little ship, water dripping from his hair to trickle down his nose.
Spike leaned back as a dim blue light filled the cockpit and looked down at his purple haired companion where she was slumped against his chest. He was amazed that she had fallen asleep against him as he carried her despite the rain. And they said he could sleep through anything. She sighed in her sleep.
Spike chuckled. A damp lock of hair fell across her face. Spike frowned slightly and brushed it aside as the rain continued to beat down on the glass canopy. He leaned his head back against the seat and stared up at the stars that flowed and ebbed as if they were floating underwater.
Faye moved closer to him in her sleep, her cheek pressed up against his shoulder. Spike closed his eyes, the warmth of her body against his bringing back painful memories. It rains too much in Tharsis, he decided as he wiped a wet sleeve across his face in a vain attempt to dry himself. It had rained the day he had first taken Julia to the Sicilian so many years ago. He had brought her there six days after they had met when Vicious asked him to watch over her while he went off on a dangerous assignment. He remembered every detail of that night as if it had happened the night before.
The sun had just begun to set when he had picked her up at her upscale apartment. She had been wearing a collared white blouse, a dark blue skirt that reached just below her knees, and vintage black heels.
A sudden downpour had sent them scurrying into the nearest cab, Spike holding his brown leather jacket over their heads in a futile attempt to keep dry. Laughing like little children, they had run breathlessly from the car and into the restaurant where they stood dripping before the shocked host. With a disdainful look at their wet clothes, the man had shown them to a table against the far wall facing the windows. She had smiled at him then, a sad smile that spoke of a life of sadness and pain. Unable to stop himself, he had taken her slim hand in his own, squeezing it gently, telling her silently that he would always protect her. The candlelight had danced in her eyes.
They had started in the rain and ended in the rain.
Faye murmured against his shoulder and Spike put an arm around her as the chill inside the small ship sharpened. Wordlessly, he took the controls and lifted the Swordfish up off the roof, taking her up above the clouds and out of the rain. Skimming low over the tops of the clouds, he gazed out at the many stars up above and wondered which one out there was tied to him.
The Swordfish dipped low, cutting back through the clouds and circled down to land gently on the deck of the Bebop. The hangar was dark and cold as Spike carefully carried Faye through the ship, leaving dripping wet footprints in his path.
"Where have you been!"
Spike turned towards a very angry, very tired looking Jet standing in hall behind him. "You waited up for us?"
"No! I was—What's wrong with Faye?"
"Keep it down, Jet, she's asleep."
"I thought…oh…" Jet grumbled, rubbing his neck and letting out a breath.
Spike smiled slightly at his old friend's concern. Despite how much Jet claimed otherwise, he was like an old dog whose bark was much worse than his bite. If you were on his side. He turned and walked silently down the hall towards the crew quarters. The door to Faye's room slid open with a hiss and he slipped inside, tripping over something in the darkness.
With a muttered curse, he gently laid Faye down on her bed, removing his wet jacket. She curled around herself and shivered. He looked down at her through the gloom. With a sigh he grabbed a baggy t-shirt and a pair of cotton shorts from the floor, closed his eyes, and managed to get her out of her damp dress and into dry clothes without any mishaps. Pulling her covers back, he gently laid them down over her sleeping form, pausing to brush a few stray hairs from her face. The door hissed shut behind him, leaving the room in darkness.
Spike sauntered tiredly through the dark ship and found Jet sitting alone at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in hand. Spike slumped down into a chair across from him with a groan, grateful to finally be able to take the weight off of his aching feet.
Jet looked at him as he folded his arms on the table. "So what's going on between you and Faye?" he asked quietly, taking in his friend's bedraggled appearance.
Spike rested his head in his arms, exhausted, and mumbled something inaudibly.
Jet got up and brought back a second cup of coffee, setting it before his partner. "Come on, Spike, you don't pull what you've been pulling over the last few days and tell me nothing is going on."
Spike accepted the cup gratefully and sipped from it careful not to burn his tongue. He shrugged.
Jet leaned back in his chair. "What happened tonight? You two looked like a pair of drowned rats."
A brief smile crossed Spike's lips. "It rained," he mumbled into his cup.
"All right, Spike," Jet said with a tired sigh and turned to go. "You can keep your secrets. You seem to be forming quite a collection." His boots clunked across the metal floor of the galley.
"I found her."
Jet stopped be the door and turned to face his companion who was staring down into his cup. "What?"
"I found her, Jet," Spike said looking up.
Jet said nothing.
"She was going to kill me," Spike chuckled humorlessly. "But she never did had the nerve for killing," he said quietly. Jet leaned back against the doorframe without a word and crossed his arms.
"She's dead, Jet. She was what made me want to go on living and now she's gone." Spike's eyes dropped to the metal surface of the table. "Because I wasn't able to protect her," he whispered.
Jet sat down in front of his friend. "Is that why you were gone for so long?"
Spike nodded. "I had no reason stay alive. I killed Vicious, thought he done me the same favor, but I somehow managed to survive."
They sat in silence for a few long moments. Jet put a hand on Spike's damp shoulder. "I, for one, am glad you're back," he said gruffly.
Spike nodded silently.
"You have to let her go, Spike."
Spike looked at him blankly. "Let her go."
"Time doesn't stand still. I learned that the hard way," Jet said. "What's in the past is there for good and nothing you can do will bring it back."
Spike grunted.
"Get some rest, big day tomorrow," Jet said, standing.
Spike sat in the empty kitchen for some time, the cool air in the drafty ship quickly chilling his wet clothes. He grunted and stood stretching his stiff muscles. Once in his room he pealed away his damp shirt, laying it and his jacket to dry over the vents in the wall. He hung his pants from a shelf, hoping that they would be dry enough by the time they had to go the next day and slipped into a pair of worn sweat pants.
His mind a tumult of contradictory emotions, he collapsed onto his rumpled bed and drifted into a troubled sleep.
Faye opened her eyes slowly, her vision adjusting gradually to the darkness. For a moment she was disoriented, unable to remember where she was or how she had gotten there, as she pushed back the blanket that was draped over her. She realized with a jolt that she was in her room that she was no longer in her dress but in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt.
With a yawn she stood blearily and shuffled to the door. The clock on the table read eight thirty. It's so early... She groaned, rubbing her eyes and wishing she could have had more sleep. When she walked into the kitchen a gruff Jet and a cup of hot coffee waited at the table. She accepted the mug gratefully.
"Rough night?"
Faye bobbed her head sleepily, sipping from the steaming contents of her mug and letting the sweet aroma of the coffee awaken her muddled senses.
Spike was already sitting at the table; a half burned cigarette lay forgotten in an ashtray beside him as he leafed through the pile of papers before him. He looked tired. His shoulders were tense and his face was drawn, his deep brown eyes red and a little puffy as if he'd had trouble sleeping. He glanced at her as she sat down and went back to his papers without a word.
Faye felt a stab of guilt as she remembered how he had carried her when the heel of her shoe had broken. He must have carried her all the way to the ship and she must have fallen asleep on the way. It must have been he who put her in bed and changed her clothes. Her cheeks reddened.
She fiddled with her mug for a moment. "Thanks for—"
"Whatever," he muttered, his eyes never leaving the page they were skimming.
Faye stared down into her mug, silently, not knowing whether she was too tired or too ashamed to respond. Her mind was awash with conflicting emotions as she sat stiffly in her chair.
Jet sat silently in the common room watching the two through the kitchen door as they sat mutely at the table. There was definitely something going on, but it seemed that neither of the two stubborn fools were going to admit it to anyone, not even to themselves. Jet had seen this kind of attitude before; he knew it very well, having taken done the same himself when he was younger.
He looked down at his hands, quietly contemplating the hard contours of his prosthetic limb. He could have had it replaced with a more modern counterpart, one that would have allowed him to feel as if it had been his real arm. An improvement on the original design, they had called it. The metal hand clenched into a fist. He had refused. There was no sense into pretending that the past had never happened.
Spike and Faye were like a part of him now. The three of them were the only members of a sad little family made up of lost and wandering souls seeking solace in each other simply for the sake of a shared understanding. After all, misery did love company. He didn't know what he would do if he lost either of them again. There was no prosthesis for the loss of a friend.
Spike rose from the table and gathered his papers. He paused, looking down at Faye as she stared into her cooling coffee. Without a word he walked out of the kitchen, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze as he past. Jet shook his head. There was definitely something going on.
"Ok, here's the deal," Jet began as he sat across the common room table from his two younger partners. "You'll both be wearing these ear pieces," he said holding up two of what looked like tiny flesh colored beans. Spike grunted as he examined one of the tiny devices. "And you'll each have mics on you so we can communicate. Just try not to draw attention to yourselves. People might start getting suspicious if they spot you talking to thin air," he gave them a meaningful look.
Spike yawned.
"You two remember the plan? Faye you make contact with the target and get close to him. When the target moves to the after party, you move with him, Spike, you tail them." Spike grunted. "Draw him out into the open and when you've got an opening pull your gun and we'll pick him up."
Faye nodded quietly. "Do we have a back up plan or something?"
"Yeah," Spike snorted. "It's called don't fuck up plan A."
Faye scowled. "Why don't you just focus on holding up your end of the deal," she sneered.
"Would you two quit!" he grimaced. "We leave in an hour, for chrissake!"
Spike and Faye rolled their eyes in unison.
Faye stood before her mirror inspecting herself from head to toe. The gown she wore was long and well designed. Classy, she thought smugly. The flowing black fabric hugged her curves accentuating her figure, flaring out elegantly at the hips until it touched the floor, the back scooping gracefully, a long slit reaching to her mid thigh. Her hair was piled atop her head in a mess of loose strands and twisting curls and a pair of white crystal drops dangled sparkling from her ears, a matching pendant hanging from a thin silver chain round her neck. She smiled at herself, dark, smoky eyes following the design of tiny golden dragons embroidered subtly onto the fabric of her gown as she put the tiny transmitter device in her ear.
Five o'clock. It was show time. With a calming breath she centered herself and walked quickly down the hall, her slightly more sensible heels clicking on the metal floor. Wrapping a gauzy black stole around her shoulders, she pulled on a pair of black elbow length gloves as she entered the common room and found Spike lying on the couch, in a remarkably unwrinkled black tux, fast asleep.
"Spike?"
"Huh, what?" he sat up blearily. "What you want?"
"Uh, the bounty?"
Spike snapped awake as if he had had ice water dumped over his head, his eyes focusing on her with disconsertning intensity. He stood and looked her up and down. "It's good to see you learned from last night," he said heading for the door. He paused and looked at her for a moment. "How do you expect to catch him without a gun?"
Faye smirked as she slipped her hand into the slit at her thigh and pulled out a small, sleek weapon. She raised her eyebrows as if to ask if she had answered his question. Spike shook his head and snorted as he turned and left the room.
Faye rolled her eyes as she followed him, thankful that they would not be sharing a single ship since Jet had managed to fix the right thruster of the Redtail after much muttering about how the damage looked suspiciously like weapons fire. Spike disappeared into the Swordfish and took off as she closed her own hatch and powered up her ship. The Redtail purred to life beneath her and she smiled. The ship had always been faithful to her, pulling through when she had needed it most. She shot towards the glimmering lights of the city, grinning with anticipation.
Jet perched on the roof of the building across the street from the Jade Dragon watching as the fancily dressed guests arrived in their town cars and limos. It was a very high profile event being the by-centennial anniversary of the opening of the theatre and the birthday of its notable owner. Jet had been able to recognize quite a few famous faces as they walked down the red carpet that had been laid from the sidewalk to the entrance waving at the crowd that had gathered hoping to catch a glimpse of the glamour.
He set down his binoculars for a moment and checked his watch. Six thirty. Those idiots had better hurry up and get here. The show starts in half an hour! Jet scowled, checking his watch for the fortieth time.
A commotion down below prompted him to pick up his binoculars again. A long white limo had pulled up to the red carpet much to the delight of the mass of paparazzi that were hovering like vultures over a dead carcass, flash bulbs blinking erratically. Jet had to squint to make out the tall figure that stepped out of the car, long golden hair flowing over the shoulders of a pristine white suit.
"Gotcha…" Jet said softly as the figure turned and waved at the mob of screaming people. "Idiots," he muttered. "They have no idea."
An old fashioned black limousine pulled up behind the long white auto as Sanders disappeared into the theatre. Jet swiveled his attention to the newly arrived car and whistled. It must have been a genuine gasoline powered car! Those had gone out of style decades ago. He had thought they had all been melted down for scrap metal.
A woman in a black floor length gown stepped out of the shining black vehicle. She was so familiar…Jet choked, nearly dropping his binoculars. "Faye! How the hell…" He peered furiously through his binoculars as Faye smiled broadly, posing for the over eager cameramen as they jostled with each other for position. Jet shook his head as she blew a kiss to the frantic photographers and disappeared through the huge doors after Sanders.
"There's a good girl," Jet muttered to himself. "Now where is Spike…" He scanned the crowd, cursing Spike for his tardiness.
A tall dark haired bombshell of a woman in a short red dress so tight it could have been painted on had just stepped out of the passenger side of a flashy red sports car, drawing the attention of the spectators. She turned back to the car and leaned down into the driver's window. Cameras flashed wildly.
Jet panned while the raucous mob was occupied by the display before them. A tuft of green hair detached from the crowd and slipped into the shadows behind one of the tall red columns. Jet focused his sights as Spike's lanky figure darted into the large open theatre doors.
Showtime.
Spike quickly scanned the crowd inside the lobby as he melted into the shifting crowd. The huge front lobby was full of gaudily dressed people of all shapes and sizes talking animatedly in tight clumps underneath the sweeping crystal chandeliers. A horse faced woman with a particularly piercing laugh let loose a shrieking howl laughter when a large beefy man with a heavy gold chain around his thick neck pinched her bottom. Spike slipped behind an ice sculpture of a mermaid with flowing hair that covered her bare breasts as she looked out over the guests with an inviting gaze.
From his vantage point Spike could survey the entire room without hindrance. A massive tapestry hung on the far wall over the crowd depicting a green dragon wrapped around the trunk of a cherry tree, pink blossoms drifting down all around it and onto crisp white snow and a second ice sculpture, this one of a prowling lion, stood by the crowded open bar. He could see neither Sanders nor Faye anywhere.
Faye drifted through the crowd, stopping to chat every now and then with a richly dressed guest as she made her way steadily towards the wide sweeping stairs that lead to the second floor. She had seen Sanders pass through the vast double doors of the theatre smiling as cameras flashed at him from all sides, but she had lost him in the sea of people once he had gotten inside. Faye winked at a young server holding a large tray, taking a tall glass of bubbly amber liquid she passed. Scanning the faces around her over the rim of her drink she slipped quickly toward her goal.
The stairs were white marble shot through with dark gray and gold veins that reflected light from the ornate lamps that hung on the walls at evenly spaced intervals. Faye paused to look out over the sea of faces as she made her way up the stairs. Across the long room a frozen mermaid glittered above an enormous seashell shaped bowl of punch.
Spike winced as his earpiece crackled suddenly to life. "Spike! Spike can you hear me?"
"Jesus, Jet!" he hissed as he adjusted the tiny receiver pinned to the inside of his collar and scanned the room once more. "You don't have to yell, you're in my damn ear for chrissake."
Jet spared no time for an apology. "Do you see him?"
"Nope."
Jet cursed. "What about Faye?"
Spike squinted as he searched the far end of the room. Someone was making their way to the second level, elegant black dress a stark contrast to the white marble of the stairs. She stopped and turned to look over the crowd. "Yup."
"Have you made contact yet?"
"I'm about to."
The second floor lobby was almost as packed as the first when Faye entered it. She set her glass down on a table, her eyes searching for the telltale white suit and golden hair. For a man with such particular fashion tastes he was certainly difficult to spot. She grimaced as a woman in a garish neon green dress made of bird feathers and what looked to be a dyed burlap sack marched past with a tiny poodle nestled in her bag. The dog was the same sickening shade of green as the dress.
"Did you find him yet?"
Faye jumped slightly as she felt someone brush her back slightly and warm breath tickled her ear. "We have ear pieces for a reason," she gritted through the immensely fake smile that she sent at a large woman in a plaid dress suit as she walked by.
"Well?" Spike murmured as he stood beside her and facing the opposite direction, pretending to adjust his well polished silver cuff links.
"No. You?"
Spike snagged a glass from a passing waiter as a group of chattering women passed close by. "Nope," he muttered once he was sure no one would hear.
Faye moved out into the center of the crowded room, leaving Spike standing by the table beside the bar. A hand settled on the small of her back. "Well look who we have here…"
Spike turned in time to see Faye intercepted by a tall man with dark hair dressed in an expensive looking black suit. "You've got to be kidding," Spike muttered as the big man began to lead Faye off in the opposite direction.
"Faye! Faye what are you doing? This is not the time to get revenge."
"I can't!" Faye muttered.
"What was that?"
"Nothing, Mr. Anderson. I was just so happy to see you again!" she oozed.
"Please, call me Matt."
Faye smiled outrageously up at him. "All right, Matt."
Spike scowled. Suddenly he saw a flash of white in the corner of his eye. "Faye! It's Sanders. He's heading for the balcony."
"You're so much better looking than my last date, and you're well mannered and charming. He was so—" The white suit disappeared out onto the balcony.
He clenched his jaw and grabbed the transmitter on his collar, giving it a sharp twist.
Faye clapped a hand to her ear as the feedback skittered piercingly down her spine and stumbled into the dark haired man's arms.
"Are you all right!"
"What the hell is going on!" Jet's voice crackled roughly.
Faye managed a feeble smile. "Oh I'm so sorry, Matt." She threw a hateful glare over Matt's shoulder in Spike's direction. "I think I just need some fresh air. It's so hot in here." She fanned herself breathlessly with one hand.
"Anything you want, babe."
Spike watched in disgust as Faye let the man lead her out onto the balcony.
The cool air felt good after the warmth of the crowd. The balcony was an extension of the second floor lobby, the gauzy white curtains that hung down from the arched doorway acted as a sort of separation flowed in the gentle night breeze. Several people stood talking, preferring the clear night air to the press of the interior. Faye leaned against the balustrade with feigned faintness.
"Matt," She put a hand to her forehead daintily. "I'm feeling a bit faint. Would you get me a glass of water?"
"Yeah, uh…you got it…" he said and dove back into the shifting crowd.
"Ugh, idiot," Faye muttered to herself as she carefully examined the other guests that shared the balcony with her. Her brow furrowed slightly. Where was Sanders?
"My, my, my," a voice said from behind her. "A woman of your beauty should never be left unattended."
Spike hung back behind one of the doorframes and listened to Faye's uneven breathing through his earpiece. "Come on, Faye, pull it together," he muttered as Faye turned to face their target.
"Who're you talking to, good lookin'?"
Spike's head swiveled to the source of the question, his gaze halting on the curvaceous woman that stood beside him, her brazen gaze heating his blood. His eyes slid down her taught body taking in the devious smile, the impossibly tight red dress and sensual curves. Her smile broadened as he raised his eyes back to hers with some difficulty.
"What's an attractive man such as yourself doing out here all alone?" she asked, as she hooked a finger in his belt and lead him out onto the balcony.
Spike could say nothing, her spicy perfume driving all coherent thought from his mind.
"Strong silent type, huh?" She pouted, as she leaned back onto the railing giving him a complete and unimpeded view of her body. "That's all right," she purred, pulling him against her. "I don't need you to talk," she whispered silkily against his ear as she nibbled his earlobe. Her heady sent swirled around him as everything fell away but the woman in his arms.
Faye turned to face Sanders slowly, a sultry smile playing across her lips. He was just as she remembered him. The painfully attractive face and brilliantly blue eyes that were so different from Spike's darkly striking features were exactly the same as they had been years ago; his finely tailored suit glowed faintly in the moonlight.
"You flatter me," she said softly, surprised at the steadiness in her own voice.
"I haven't even begun to do you justice," he said with a charming smile, holding out a beautiful red long stemmed rose in one elegant long fingered hand.
Faye took the blood red bloom and returned the smile, her mind screaming for her to run and hide while she still had legs to carry her. Her eyes slipped past Sanders for a moment and landed on a passionately interlocked couple several yards away. Her brows twitched as she took a closer look at the couple. The woman wore a shockingly shameless dress and the man…he looked so familiar but she couldn't see his face clearly and at that distance she couldn't be sure…
She heard a throaty laugh come through her earpiece. The woman dropped her head to the side as the man began to kiss her neck, his hands wandering along her long legs. "I…told you, you wouldn't…have to….talk…"
Faye's teeth clenched as the movements of the woman's mouth matched perfectly with the words she was hearing.
"You don't like it?"
Faye jumped a little at Sanders' smooth voice as he addressed her. What was Spike thinking! Was that jealousy? Idiot, she cursed herself. Idiot!
"Yes, yes of course! It's lovely," she laughed tightly as she held the red rose. "I just have a bit of a headache," she said wincing slightly. She twisted the glittering pear shaped crystal at her neck as she smiled up at Sanders.
Spike gasped in pain at the sudden explosion of crackles and squeals in his right ear.
"All you all right?" The woman asked, putting a hand on his arm and as she pressed against him.
Spike looked at her, the pain clearing the passion-fueled haze from his mind for a moment. "Whoa, what are you doing?"
The woman looked up at him through half lidded eyes. "We were exploring each others…better traits," she murmured softly as she began to lazily kiss his neck.
He took a sharp breath, blinking dizzily as he inhaled her spicy sent. "What…" he put a hand to his head. "Stop," he grunted and pushed the woman away from him.
"Awww, don't be shy," she purred silkily. "We were only just getting started." She pressed against him again, unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt.
A second wave of hissing squeals made him wince, his jaw clenching.
"Bitch," he muttered, his ear ringing with the after effects of the brutal screeching he had just endured. He was going to kill Faye when this was over. The slap he received across the face took him completely by surprise and sent him staggering back a few steps.
"What the hell?" he said indignantly, holding his slightly reddening cheek.
"You pig!" the woman cried, hurriedly fixing her mussed hair. "I should have you arrested!"
"For what, letting you come on to me?" Spike shot back at her, rubbing his stinging cheek and ignoring the scandalized looks shot his way from the indignant spectators. "I should be asking you how much I owe you."
"You're disgusting!"
"You weren't complaining a few minutes ago!" he shouted after her as he mentally cursed all women and their vengeful ways. What the hell had gotten into him? He looked around at the now uncomfortably silent people on the balcony all of whom were staring at him. Faye twisted her pendant again.
He clapped a hand to his ear and cursed loudly as the crackling squeals jabbed his eardrum for the third time. He ground his teeth.
"Do you know him?" he heard Sanders ask through Faye's transmitter.
"That nut-job?" Faye responded with a derisive laugh. "I certainly hope not."
Spike clenched his fists as Faye's remark sent an unreasonable anger coursing through him. Inside, a gong sounded.
"Shall we?" Sanders offered Faye his arm. "I have most excellent seats and would be greatly honored to have you by my side."
Faye smiled and slipped her arm through his as he lead her back into the still crowded lobby, leaving Spike to stand alone on the balcony.
The lights in the house dimmed as Faye and Sanders took their seats in the plush little private viewing box. Drums began to beat off in the darkness accompanied by a series of clacks and the sound of a clashing gong. A man stepped out into the spotlight, his golden lion costume glimmering in sharp contrast to the blackness all around him. There was a great metal clang and he had transformed into a golden warrior with a long polished wooden sword.
"I have always enjoyed the theatre," Sanders murmured in her ear.
"Me too, Mr…. ah, I'm sorry," she smiled. "I'm afraid I didn't catch your name."
Sanders turned to look directly into her eyes. "Don't you?"
Faye's breath caught as she stared back at him. "I…ah…"
"There's been so much television coverage lately, what with my new charity bringing in unprecedented amounts of money and support," he said leaning back in his chair and looking out over the stage where two men battled with long wooden swords. "I thought you might have seen it."
"Ah…of course."
"Julian Bordeaux," he said holding out his hand.
"J-Julia…Craig," she managed, feigning shyness to mask her stumble over the name as he took her hand and kissed it.
"The pleasure is all mine…Julia," he said, his voice dark as velvet. Faye smiled weakly.
Spike leaned against the balcony railing with a cigarette clenched in his teeth as he waited for the show to pause for an intermission. He had watched in silent anger as Sanders had led Faye away, a stab of unexpected jealousy lancing through him. Shaking his head he had shoved the emotion aside, convincing himself that he was just angry with Faye for trying to deafen him, his ear still buzzing slightly and at himself for letting his self control get away from him.
He took a drag as he listened to their quiet conversation and nearly swallowed his tongue when he heard the name Faye had used. Throwing his cigarette on the ground he sauntered into the empty lobby and headed for the open bar on the far wall where a harassed looking bartender was drying clean glasses.
"Whisky," Spike grunted as he dropped onto one of the tall stools.
The bartender eyed him as he continued to wipe wet glasses with a white rag. "Not going to watch the show?"
Spike shook his head.
"Bad night?"
Spike scowled. "Women."
The man chuckled. "I feel you, man," he said sympathetically as he poured a couple shots of amber liquid and set them on the bar before Spike. "On the house."
Spike toasted the man with the first shots before downing it quickly in one gulp, grimacing as the burning liquor slid down his throat. "This shit never gets better," he muttered, downing the second.
The lights come up for intermission to roaring applause as the audience stood and cheered wildly. Faye rose quickly.
"If you'll excuse me, Julian, I must go find the ladies room," she smiled and leaned down to kiss his cheek. "I won't be long."
He caught her arm as she turned to go. The look in his cold blue eyes made her mouth go dry. "I'll be waiting."
She slipped out of the tiny room and walked quickly towards the bathroom, ducking into a side hallway just before she reached the large wooden doors that lead to the women's lounge area. She found Spike leaning casually against the wall around the corner, idly smoking a cigarette, the top few buttons of his shirt and his tie still undone and hanging loosely around his neck from when that whore of a woman had decided she wanted to undress him right there on the balcony in front of everyone.
"What the hell were you thinking!" she hissed at him angrily taking in his rumpled appearance.
"What the hell were you thinking, J-J-Julia," he retorted. "You trying to blow our cover?"
Faye blushed furiously. "Me! You're the one who suddenly decided you wanted to score with some bimbo in front of—"
Spike glared down contemptuously at her. "I think you're jealous."
"Incredible! You are so full of yourself!"
Spike crossed his arms angrily. "What about Julien?" he asked saying the name disgustedly, drawing it out with an outrageous French accent.
"He's waiting in the theatre," she said snidely. "I'll let you know if anything else happens." She turned on her heel and stalked out of the small hallway and disappeared into the crowd.
"I hear and obey," Spike muttered as he glared at her receding figure. Jet's voice crackled in his ear.
"Spike, what's going on?"
"The stupid woman is trying to blow our cover," he muttered.
"Put your damn ego aside and focus on the job, Spike," Jet growled. "Where are they now?"
"Private viewing boxes."
"Good, keep an eye on them."
"Yeah, yeah."
The lights were falling once more as Faye slipped into the dark viewing box.
"I thought you'd left me," Sanders said quietly as she sat beside him once more.
"Of course not," she said putting her hand on his with a small smile. "I would be missing out on an amazing opportunity."
Sanders sat quietly for a moment regarding her with icy blue eyes in the dim light. Faye shifted uncomfortably under his raptor gaze. "Let's leave," he murmured.
Faye blinked. "Leave?" She had begun to feel slightly light headed.
Sanders smiled and leaned toward her. "We can get a head start on Mr. Tanaka's celebration," he whispered in her ear. "Maybe have a little wine in the car on the way. I have a lovely shiraz I've been dying to try." Faye closed her eyes trying to quash the revulsion she could feel bubbling inside her as his breath tickled her neck. She squeezed her knees together slightly feeling the reassuring shape of her gun pressed against her inner thigh.
"Come," he said bringing her to her feet. "My car is waiting outside."
"But the show…"
"There will be other shows," he said as he pushed her gently towards the door.
Spike ducked behind one of the large plush chairs that were clustered around the large lobby as one of the doors to the private boxes opened and Sanders along with a slightly dazed looked Faye stepped out.
"What the hell are you doing," he muttered. "Jet, they're leaving early."
"What? Where are they going?"
"His car. He said something about getting a head start on the party," he said, whispering as he watched the pair leaving from behind the large chair. "I'm gonna follow them."
Spike quickly pulled off his shoes as Faye and Sanders moved down the sweeping marble staircase and slipped after them, his sock covered feet not making a sound on the white stone stairs. His eyes narrowed as Faye swayed slightly and grasped Sanders' arm for supports. Something was wrong.
The main lobby was completely empty as Spike ducked behind the abandoned bar at the foot of the stairs, his quarry moving across the middle of the well-lit room. He slipped quickly past tables covered with empty glasses and half eaten hors devours and crept silently out onto the open foyer, pressing his back up against the shadowed side of one of the large pillars. From the shadows he watched as Sanders opened the door of his gleaming white limousine and Faye stepped inside. The car pulled away into the darkness.
"Jet, do you see them?" he asked as he hurriedly put his shoes back on, stealth no longer necessary.
"I got them. They're headed for the mansion."
Spike sprinted through the shadows and leapt down the terraced levels in front of the Jade Dragon until he reached the street, his shoes slapped loudly on the hard pavement as he ran for the Swordfish. With a flying leap he scrambled up onto his ship and dropped inside, the canopy hissing shut behind him.
"Where are they now?"
"I lost them," Jet growled. "Faye's com is out, I can't get a lock on her signal. Hurry the hell up!"
Spike powered up the engines and pushed the throttle to full power sending the ship hurtling up into the dark sky. He could see the Hammerhead lifting off from one of the buildings down below.
"Do you see them?" Jet asked as he scanned the streets below.
"I got nothing. They're gone."
"Damnit!" Jet snarled slamming his fist into a malfunctioning control. The little screen went blank for a moment before popping back to life with a fizzle.
"Wine?"
Faye stared stupidly at the glass of rose-colored liquid that wavered before her unfocused eyes. She blinked trying to clear the haze from her vision as she sat in the soft black leather seats of the long limousine. Sanders' face swam into view, his hawk like gaze piercing through the fog. She shook her head trying to focus her thoughts but they scattered like grains of sand upon the wind.
"Where…" her head lolled to the side, her muscles no longer able to hold the weight.
"Shhh," Sanders whispered, putting a long slender finger to her lips. "Don't talk, it ruins the mood."
Faye squeezed her eyes shut.
"I'm impressed, Ms. Valentine," his voice skittered down her spine as he ran a finger down her neck and along her arm. She tried to move but her body refused to respond. "Not many have been able to withstand my…charms…for so long," he said holding up a tiny glass vial of clear liquid.
"W…what's…wrong…with me…" she slurred managing to lift her head a fraction, as fear overrode all feelings of revulsion. He knew who she was.
"Oh that would be the normal effects of the chemically enhanced pheromones I was wearing tonight," he replied blandly, gesturing with the tiny vial. "You see," he went on. "The human body has an incredible array of sensory receptors. This lovely little concoction contains chemicals that are absorbed by the olfactory sensors of women, you in particular, and sent directly to the brain where they proceed to befuddle, as it were, the synapses that allow the transfer of movement commands from your brain to your muscles. Isn't that clever?"
The red rose dropped to the floor, Faye's leaden fingers unable to keep their hold on the slender stem as she blacked out.