Second Chapter! Fast I know. So unlike me! Usually I get a bad case of writers block and it takes quite a while, but the words are flowin' so nice now! I'm lovin' this!

Disclaimer: Second verse, same as the first.

Italics are thoughts

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To Learn to Live

Chapter Two: Ghosts and Demons

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Spencer Grigorian sat dumbfounded in the shabby hotel room.

Since the LPD had finally discovered who was behind the Tyrell bombing, he'd been cleared of their suspicions and released from lock-up. Unfortunately, his mortgage on his uptown home in the Third Sector had been foreclosed on and he had to live in the decrepit but unnoticed Yukon Hotel. The room he was in was paid for in advance for three months. He never found out who set that explosive at the Tyrell building, but he owed his living space to a Blade Runner: One who was now dead.

He felt a great amount of sympathy for the young woman. He couldn't imagine committing suicide. Not long ago a Blade Runner had given him the Voigt-Kampff test, and suggested that he suddenly felt the urge to do such a thing. He remembered he told him that he loved life too much to commit suicide. After all, what would a killer like a Blade Runner know about loving life? They destroyed so many and he supposed would have many demons to fight within themselves. Still, the girl seemed so levelheaded, more empathic than most Blade Runners he'd met. He wished she would've given up her killing and joined the cause. She seemed to believe in it; she paid the first few rent payments for him until he'd secured a job. Why else would she help him? However, it all came to nothing now.

"I suppose you couldn't live as a death dealer anymore June," he sighed as he switched off the news report announcing her suicide.

"You got that right Spence'."

Spencer nearly jumped through the decaying roof over his head. He spun around to see a small-bodied vagabond in tattered burlap rags. He took a step back when the figure raised its hand. Slender fingers lifted the green-hued goggles away from a pair of large aqua eyes. With a flick of the wrist, the hood was pulled away from the head, revealing a long mass of red-brown curls. "Boo!" she said sharply, causing Spencer to start back and fall over his chair. He looked up at her from the floor and rubbed the heels of his hands against his hazel eyes.

"J-June?" he stammered, sweat drops beading on his forehead.

"In the flesh my friend," she answered, discarding the last remains of her disguise. Her faded blue denim pants were streaked with dirt and sewer refuse and her black shirt was gray with filth. A little belt with a small pouch hung at her waist. "Little worse for the wear, but what can I say?"

"But…but you're…how did you…huh?"

"Hmm, maybe I should explain myself. Can't have you not completing sentences forever, can I?"

"Yeah…" Spencer murmured, coming out of his stupor. "Yeah maybe you should. What happened June? I saw the body on TV. They identified you with dental records."

"That's the advantage in having a friend in a DNA sub-con in dental design Spencer. Even if old man Tyrell doesn't want my help, the sub-cons are always willing to make a little extra, in return for a little troubleshooting from me," she muttered, the thought of the reproach she felt from Dr. Tyrell making her cranky.

"And the body?"

June's eyes suddenly lost their angry spark and filled with remorse. "A special. I found her when I was hiding in the sewers. She was sick and I…I retired her." She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling a cramp in her gut over the banality of those words. "Oh fuck it, I killed her! I didn't want to…but…I didn't know what else to do. I've been a killer for so long I thought, 'Hell, what's one more?" She said with bitter humor. Digging one hand through her unwashed red hair, she looked at the man she naturally assumed would take her in. "Damnit, I'm sorry to come to you like this Spence'. I didn't know where else to go. Luther and Lance are Off-world, and my uncle, well, wouldn't want to draw the attention of the Blade Runner unit. But you. You've already been through enough trouble. I hate to get you involved."

He shook his head. "Don't worry June. I'm not ashamed of what I do. It will get me in trouble no matter what."

She looked at him, regarding his complacency strangely. "You could land in jail again you know."

"At least I'll already know how to deal with it," he smiled, nervously, but a smile nonetheless. June stared at him, and then finally cracked a smile herself.

"You're a good guy, Grigorian. Can you point me to a shower?" she asked.

"Yeah, just go ask the clerk out there. Do you have any chinyen?"

"Enough. Thanks Spencer."

One hot shower later, June sat, drowning in some of Spencer's old clothes. The large button up shirt overemphasized her small frame, and the belt she'd worn was cinched past its last hole. Armani wouldn't be placing her in any fashion ads, but it was better than the stench those rags left on her clothes.

"You got anything to eat Spence? My stomach's kind of gnawing on itself," she said, the cramp in her gut replaced by the burn of hunger.

"Yeah, I think so. I got a little new souch from Howie Lee's. If you mix it with hot water it's kind of like instant soup…"

"That sounds cool. Thanks." She smiled at the thought of something warm in her stomach. She watched him go out the door and let the smile fall away. One hand went to the small snap button of the little brown pouch on her belt. Inside were two small vials of metallic fluid and several tiny silicon chips. She sighed in relief, thankful that the most important things she had were with her instead of her by-now cleaned out apartment. Hearing Spencer walking back, she snapped the pouch closed and pulled the shirt over it. He came through the door with a steaming coffee pot full of water.

"I got the hot water and…" he trailed off when he saw the stricken look on her face. Her hands clenched the baggy knees of the pants, balling up the khaki material in her fists. "Um, June?"

"Hm?" she looked up at him, her eyes shining but dry. Spencer knew there was a lot she needed to tell him, but she needed food more right now.

"Uh…nothing, I'll make the stuff…"

A few minutes later, June was sipping the hot, surprisingly tasty liquid from a short clay mug. Every gulp burned down her throat and settled in a pool in her empty stomach. By the time she finished the broth she looked, to Spencer, a lot better. For a moment they sat quietly, neither one knowing where to begin.

"Well, I guess I'll start," she mumbled, looking at the brownish ring of leftover soup at the bottom of the mug.

"You don't have—"

"Yeah, I do. I have no right to be here unannounced like this. You deserve to know why at least."

Spencer looked at her, her eyes set in determination. He sighed and nodded, letting her have the floor. She opened her mouth and suddenly laughed bitterly.

"This whole thing is so ridiculous! It's not even fair! I wanted to be in genetics research and development; that's what I studied eight years at Androtech for. Technically, I am a doctor. I wanted to develop technology to help my uncle create and improve life, and I wanted to be a cop so I could help protect that life. And I did well for myself too. I was a good cop, on and off the street. I put my forensics knowledge to work in the lab with Dino, and I helped to keep people off the slab too. Then one little Off-world civil war breaks out and my life goes to hell.

"I didn't want to be a Blade Runner; I didn't agree with it. Nevertheless, I was a top student, so it was expected of me. I tried to get my uncle's approval to work at Tyrell Corporation so I could have a reason not to be. Problem was the old man didn't trust me anymore. Once he heard I was a Blade Runner, he was only good for a little chinyen and a phone call now and then."

"You know, he probably thinks you're dead June," he pointed out. "You should tell him his niece is alive, right?"

"Why should I? He didn't care then, he sure wouldn't care now!" She stopped when she found herself shouting and cleared her throat. "Well, that option useless, I decided to try my own way. I tried to stay off the streets by putting in too many hours in the lab. Then Guzza, the lieutenant in charge, got suspicious of my motives and put me on active duty with Holden and Steele. He thought with my knowledge of replicant technology I would be 'invaluable' as a rep detect. Fat-ass stupid waste of space…" she muttered, running a hand through her now dry hair. She twisted a large lock around one finger and pulled out with a sigh. "Anyways, he thought I'd be better retiring replicants instead of cutting them up on the slab."

Spencer shuddered. He hated morbid talk.

"So I did my job. I became a killer. I was paid to be a killer; I had to eat and stay alive. Then one night, I pulled out some of my research and started messing with it again. It felt great. Like redemption. I thought, if I could develop something to end the conflict between humans and replicants, I could… I don't know; make up for all those I retired."

She stopped speaking for a moment. Spencer gulped and asked a question he didn't really want to ask her: "How many?" Now who's being morbid Grigorian?

June gazed at him, teal eyes full of pain.

"In my first year there…sixteen. Only half as many up to now."

"Twenty-four…" he breathed. So many lives lost. He had no idea what it was like to take a life, artificial or not. They communed through their eyes for a moment before her head dropped forward, copper ringlets pouring down.

"You hate me. You think I'm a murderer."

"No I don't."

"Well, you should. Here I am, the epitome of what you fight against. Top it all off, I'm an admitted traitor."

"Better to betray them than yourself."

June gave a deep sniff, damming up her tears and lifted her head, a sad smile on her lips. "You're such a teacher Spence'."

"It's a living."

She chuckled softly, glad for the small release in tension. At least he didn't hate her. "So I researched when I could with the little technology I possessed. But I didn't get too far and soon I was pretty much reanalyzing the same thing over and over. It almost drove me crazy. And on top of it all, we had new recruits coming in. Captain Bryant wanted Dave and Crystal to train them, but Guzza recruited me instead of Holden. Bunch of rookies had no idea what was expected of them, so I couldn't give them half-assed training. I had to force myself to be a good teacher. Steele was the ideal BR though; zero empathy. Those rookies learned most everything physical from her, but I held the key to the VK machine and the firearms. That's where I met Ray. Wet-behind the ears, he was, but a good guy."

"Forgive me if I didn't find him as charming on the other side of the bars," Spencer muttered.

"Yeah, he put on the tough guy face for us, but I don't think he liked what he did anymore than me. That's why he trusted me I guess."

"Then why June?" he asked, still very puzzled. "I mean I'm glad you're not a killer anymore, but why are they after you?"

June took a deep breath. She hadn't told anyone this. Not Ray, not Tyrell, not even the Twins. "I helped out the wrong person."

"What do you mean?"

"About two months ago, I was getting ready for my patrol. I was on DNA Row, finishing a night of research with…some friends. I walked to my spinner and there was this scream. I looked and this girl, hardly a teenager came running out of the alley like the devil was on her heels. This wasn't far from the truth either. Not two seconds after I got her in the spinner, these punks come running out of the alley. I pulled my gun and told them to beat it. Then…they said to...let them have the 'reppie whore.' When I told them I was a Blade Runner, they left. I didn't know if the kid was a replicant or not, but she was scared and had almost faced the worst thing a woman can. So I decided to help her. I asked her where she lived, she told me. I took her home and I never saw her again."

Suddenly, a bitter laugh that chilled Spencer's spine issued from her mouth. "Turns out she was a replicant, and one that was on our toplists. I kept quiet about it, but somehow someone in the brass found out. And voila, here I am, a dead woman walking."

June sat back in the chair, drained from telling her tale. Spencer looked at her, taking in all she had told him. Finally, he leaned forward and placed a hand over hers, resting on her knee.

"You're very brave June."

She laughed again, that same rueful sound. "No I'm not! I didn't stand up for myself, not once! I killed a sick woman to cover my own ass! That poor kid would've been raped if I hadn't done what I did! Android or no, there's right and wrong damnit!" Suddenly she lurched forward and threw her arms around Spencer. He startled as the onslaught of tears came pouring out of his normally tough, capable friend. For many minutes, he just held her as she let go of all the pain and suffering she'd just relived.

After a while, she straightened up and wiped her eyes. Brushing the hair from her moistened face, she sniffed and shook her head. "That's all there is. And that's all for me. I can't stay here."

"What are you talking about? You know you can stay here as long—"

"No. I mean I can't stay on this planet."

Spencer gaped. "You're going Off-world?"

June shrugged. "Can't think of a better place to disappear to, can you? Besides, this world's got nothing left for me."

"That isn't true June," he answered firmly. "Your research can make a difference for the replicant people. Your uncle—"

"Yeah, right. Good one Spence'. Former rep-killer working on Dr. Eldon Tyrell's precious technology," she snorted. "No, I have to get Off-world. I can't go on here. Besides, I think I've still got a couple friends up there."

"But how? Apparent suicide or not, you're a wanted woman. Show your face at the terminals—"

"There won't be any terminals," she said rather cryptically. Spencer cocked an eyebrow at her. She sighed and stood up. "I hate to do this Spencer, but I need some more help from you."

"Me?" he said a little loudly, getting to his feet. "Wh-what can I possibly do? I don't understand."

June smiled. "Not too long ago, when Ray was still around, he told me he interviewed you. You said something about an underground railroad."

"That…that was a figure of speech," he stuttered, not looking her in the eye.

"That's what he said. But I did a little snooping, and a very well-hidden trail led me to GOURD."

Spencer finally looked at her, his light brown eyes sparkling. "GOURD is still running?"

"Apparently so: Grigorian Off-world Underground Railroad Dispatch?"

"Yes…that's it," he smiled dreamily. His people still believed in the cause.

"GOURD?" June asked with a wry smile.

Spencer snapped out of his trance and grinned. "We took that from an African-American song in the 19th Century. They used to call the Big Dipper constellation the "drinking gourd", saying that following the direction it lay in would lead them to freedom."

"Must be pretty successful. You got your name in it," she said, chuckling softly. He blushed a bit and looked away.

"Yes well…leadership gets you big-headed sometimes…" he admitted, blushing a bit redder.

June shook her head with a smirk and placed her hands on her hips. "So, what do you say Spencer: Can you help me out?" He frowned, thinking, his brows knitted above his eyes. "Oh, come on Spence'. I have to do this. I can't live on this shithole anymore."

A note of pleading entered her voice and he made up his mind. He would not allow this proud, strong woman to beg for his help. "Okay, I guess I owe you one anyway."

"Thank you," she said, stepping forward to hug him. "Just…thank you." He smiled and patted her back. She pulled away and grinned for the first time since she arrived. "So, what do we do?"

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It was not as quick a process as she hoped it would be.

GOURD, as a rule, was a nomadic organization. They moved from place to place every month to avoid detection. Spencer told her that he would contact them and, he hoped, would get a quick response. He also told her that they might not be so hot about transporting a former Blade Runner, but he would pull some strings. Until then, June would have to lay low with him.

"I know it's not the Ritz, hell it's not even the Bradbury, but the mattress is clean, and the clerk is going to keep his eyes open for you," he explained, smoothing a sheet over the mattress.

"I don't know how I'll sleep to tell you the truth," she mumbled, hugging her knees to her chest. "Every sound I hear makes me jumpy."

"Maybe this will help," said Spencer, holding out a small brownish pill to her and a glass of water. She looked at the pill, then at him. "Just a light sleep aid. I have trouble sleeping too."

"Look at us," she sighed, "a pair of sympathetic, insomniac saps on the run." She took the pill and gulped the water down, shivering a bit at the cold in her stomach. Spencer walked to his mattress on the far side of the room. He watched her slip beneath the sheets, drawing them up to her chin. She looked so small, so innocent. But he knew all the death she'd seen; all the death she caused. But one thing he could take comfort in was she hated what she'd been, and took no pleasure in the lives she took.

"Thanks again Spence'," he heard her whisper softly. He smiled and finally stretched out on his mattress. Hopefully his people would come through, and this woman's hell would finally end.

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Okey-dokey, there ya go! Second chapter's done in record time for me! Huzzah! Please review, and be nice to me too!