a/n: so, i guess you guys saw just how crazy things got last chapter, huh? well, it's just one big, crazy rollercoaster for the next while, so i hope you're strapped in tight!
4. Just Listen To Me
Opening her eyes wasn't an option just yet, but Faye's ears overcompensated and took in her surroundings. To her left, she could hear a steady beep. To her right, if she strained, she was sure that she could hear a static drip. To the far side of the room, somewhere close to the middle, the sounds of ruffling caught her attention. It wasn't too hard figure that someone was in the room, but to decipher who it was would take a little more time.
Not wanting to exude the effort, or simply still tired from her hazy ordeal, Faye shut her ears off and relaxed back into her bed. Lifting a hand from her side, none too aware of the poking sensation in her arm, Faye reflexively rested her hand on her swelling tummy, only to freeze when her bump was not in place.
Looking up from his seat by the window, Spike watched Faye as she desperately fumbled around her midsection. Heaving a sigh and standing with a heavy heart, he went over to her to explain things as best he could. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and tried his best to force a smile as her eyes landed on his.
"Spike, what's going on? I…I can't find the baby! What…what happened to the baby? I…I don't know why I can't feel it!"
He didn't know what to say to her in that moment. He knew what he had to say, but he didn't know how to say it. How was he supposed to tell her this? How was he supposed to dash her dream?
"Faye…Faye, stop. Stop it and just listen to me."
Upon hearing his voice, easily noting his grated and weary tone, Faye ceased her flailing and glanced up at Spike.
"I…I'm sorry, Faye…you were stabbed kinda under the belly, and that's where the baby was laying, and the knife was so long and –"
"Spike…please, don't say it. I…it can't be..." Faye pleaded with him. If he didn't say it, then it wouldn't be true. All she had to do was stop him from saying those fatal words.
"And you lost so much blood yourself, and even though those shit doctors said they did all that they could –"
"I don't want to hear it!" Faye practically shouted as tears streamed down her face.
"And…and though they could save you, they couldn't…they couldn't…" Spike had to stop himself. He tried to force the words out, but the momentous lump in his throat simply wouldn't let him. Swallowing as best he could, and turning his eyes away from hers, he finally uttered what he dreaded to say.
"The baby's dead, Faye."
He didn't look at her. Truthfully, he couldn't. He listened to her cry, he listened to her scream, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her. She rose up on her knees, practically ripping the I.V.'s out of her arm, and pounded on his chest. He could have easily stopped her, but he didn't have the heart to try.
He heard her yell at him, he heard her cry out 'why', but he couldn't answer her. He didn't have any answers to give, anyway. Reluctantly, Spike sat down on the stiff hospital bed, and pulled Faye into his arms. Tears quickly seeped through his old, yellow shirt, but he didn't care. She shook violently, he noted; the sobs almost too much for her traumatized body to handle.
Spike stroked Faye's hair and back, trying to calm her, but knowing that he couldn't. He kissed her forehead and then tucked her head under his chin. He didn't know how long she would cry, and he didn't really care. He'd sit there as long as he'd have to, he'd hold her as long as she allowed. It was the least that he could do for her. It was the least that he could do for his self. Refusing to shed the tears behind his own eyes, Spike held on to her, as tight as he dared.
It had taken nearly three hours for Faye to calm down and fall back asleep. And that only happened after the nurse had administered something to her. The room was now dark, save for the light on above Faye's bed. Spike stared down at her, not at all surprised by her fussy sleep. Not venturing to wake her, though, Spike looked towards the door as he heard it open.
"She doin' alright?" Asked a hesitant Jet as he peered into the room.
"She's finally asleep, if that's what you mean," Spike answered, fatigue evident in his voice.
Not straying from his spot at the door, Jet looked on with a conscious weighed down my guilt. This was all his fault and he had to face that. If he hadn't let Faye go, if had just listened to Spike, then Faye wouldn't be here, and their child wouldn't be dead.
Spike studied the look on Jet's face and easily recognized it as a look he'd seen on his own face more than once. Glancing back at Faye one more time, and deciding that it'd be best to leave her be for a while, Spike turned to Jet.
"You wanna go grab a drink?" Spike offered. "Non-alcoholic for me, of course."
Neither wanting to answer, nor daring to deny, Jet nodded his head and followed Spike quietly out of the hospital. They ended up at a little bar a block away. They were close enough to get back in a hurry, but far enough away to feel less oppressed. Sitting at the bar, Spike ordered up another cola on ice, while Jet opted for something a bit stronger: a gin and tonic.
Spike swigged at his liquid, unaware of how thirsty he was until that moment, while Jet all but chugged what was in his glass. Setting the tumbler down with a dull clunk, Jet tapped the bar, signaling for another. Both men sat in a semi-awkward state of shock.
It had been a long night, yet it had all flown by so quickly. Faye had been stabbed around 6:30 in the evening. They arrived at the hospital by 7, which was entirely too long in Spike's mind. Faye was rushed into emergency surgery by 7:10, and she had coded by 7:30. The doctor had then come out to talk to Spike and Jet, telling them that Faye had been stabbed twice, actually. Once under her belly and once in her Femoral Artery, one of the body's biggest. She had lost so much blood in such a short amount of time, the doctor was actually surprised that she was still alive.
"A cut to the Femoral," the doctor had said, "is worse than a cut to the Jugular, and ten times as deadly."
Not exactly comforting words, but at least she was still alive. By 7:50, Faye had been deemed stable, but the baby was another story. By 8:00, the baby was dead. Once more, Faye was back in surgery, this time to remove the fetus of what would have been a bouncing baby boy. By 8:30, Faye had been sewn up, drugged up, and moved into her room. And by 9:30, Faye's world had been shattered, and all Spike could do was watch as she cried.
Spike glanced at the clock on the bar's wall and groaned as it struck one a.m. Pulling two cigarettes from his coat pocket, Spike stuck them in his mouth and lit them up. Passing one to Jet, he inhaled deeply and thanked God for nicotine. Sparing a glance at his partner as he downed his third glass, Spike exhaled and broke the uncomfortable silence.
"This isn't your fault, Jet," Spike's voice cut through the smoke.
Jerking his head to take a look at the man, Jet stared at him wide-eyed, though Spike never looked his way.
"You know that's not true, Spike," Jet conceded. "I was the one who broke down and okayed her to do this."
"That doesn't make it your fault, though."
"Yeah, it does," Jet stated firmly. "You had a bad feeling about all of this, and I should have respected that. I didn't and now this has happened."
"The thing is," Spike started, intent on seeing this through, "I was worried about her, and that's why I wouldn't let her go. You were worried about her, so you decided to let her go. Faye was worried about us being worried, and that's why she decided to go. And if that backward logic makes any sense, then things should have cancelled out, and Faye should have been fine. But she isn't, because that's not how things work in this world.
"But I don't blame you for this. It honestly could have happened at anytime. Hell, she could have been stabbed by some crazy lady in a grocery store. I guess what I'm trying to say is, you can't beat yourself up for things you had no hand in. Trust me on that one. If I had have pulled my head outta my sorry ass a long time ago, who fuckin' knows how many kids I could have had Faye pop out by now."
That brought a sad smile to Jet's face, that Spike Spiegel raunchy humor.
"I'll never hold this above you, Jet; you've been way too good to me for me to be that way to you. As far as I'm concerned, it's all in the past now, and I tend to not go chasing pasts anymore. Faye won't blame you, either. If anything, she'll blame herself. If that's the case, then we're both gonna have to break her of that. We both need you, Jet, so don't go flaking out on us, on account of you thinking you're guilty of something you didn't do."
Jet mulled over Spike's words, amazed that for the first time in their tumultuous relationship, Spike was the one giving the pep talk. He had listened carefully to his comrade's words, scanning closely for any signs of malice, anger, or falsity. He came up with none of that, though. It seemed as if Spike really meant what he said. Setting down his glass, his fifth refill of the night, Jet pushed away his drink, he thirst for liquor suddenly quenched. Daring a glance to his left, Jet was met with the sorrowful smile that adorned his partner's face. Returning the smile, Jet ran a metal hand over the balding spot on his head.
"However, if you keep doing that, you'll be bald in no time flat," Spike joked. "And I will blame you solely for that."
Sharing appreciative smirks and feeling slightly lighter-hearted, Jet and Spike finished their cigs and headed back to Faye.
sad, no? well, i guess you see where part of the title comes from, eh? what will happen next? we'll just have to wait and see. thanks for stopping by!
phoenix
