a/n: so i guess this is pivotal chapter #3 (are you keeping up?). well, something even worse than faye's accident is gonna take place. i'd tell you more, but i'll just let you read it for yourself...
ps - i'm at school at the time of this posting, so please forgive any errors. i'm kinda busy and re-re-editing can't really be done right now, but i wanted to get this out for you guys, anyway. so take heed and off you go.
13. Genesis, Alice, and Relapses
After a week more of waiting around in the hospital, slowly going stir crazy, Faye was finally released with the warning of "take it easy" from the doctor. She wasted no time in signing the release forms and wheeling herself down to the waiting taxi. Jet and Ed had hurried after her, and Spike was still no where in sight. Well, if he hadn't come to visit her over the three weeks she had been there and lucid, why would he come by now.
On the ride home, Faye reluctantly asked Jet how they were going to pay for all of this, not to mention her last stint in the hospital…and Spike's, for that matter. The older man had told her that it was a good thing she wasn't pregnant anymore, seeing as though the doctors would have gladly accepted her first born as payment. Then he became serious and said that he had worked out a payment plan, which equated to nearly a life of paying off the bills. But at least it was honest and it kept bounties off of all of their heads, so long as they paid on time.
Finally seeing the clunker they called home come into view, Faye gave a sigh of relief and was more than glad to see the ship. Jet had offered to carry her inside, seeing as though she was on crutches and would be for a few weeks more, but Faye's pride won out, and she hobbled in by herself. She didn't make it any further than the old, yellow couch, though, but what injured member of the Bebop did?
Laying down and realizing that the short walk up the ramp and to the couch suddenly became like a trek up Mount Kilimanjaro, Faye decided that maybe she would take Jet's offer next time, barring that he offered at all. Since it was mid-afternoon, Jet whipped up a welcome home meal of noodles and he, Ed and Faye ate lunch in comfortable quiet.
After lunch was finished, Jet brought out a blanket and covered Faye, and then told her to take a nap. She protested at first and watched the aimless shows on the vid screen for a while. She felt sleep tugging at her brain, but refused to give in so soon, and flipped through the channels even more.
Faye wondered after a while, if Spike was anywhere on the ship. If he was, he was doing a good job at hiding. If he wasn't, then who knows where he was. For all she knew, he could have been out with his Julia look-a-like. That's probably where he was the whole time she was in the hospital. Faye turned off the screen then, and decided that she would take that nap, after all. Thinking about Spike wasn't going to make him appear, and even if it did, what good would that do?
Spike had been in his room the whole time, to tell the truth. He had declined Jet's offer to go with him and Ed to pick up Faye and he had intentionally neglected greeting Faye upon her return. He had turned down lunch, feeling not too hungry given the situation, and he had stayed hidden in his room for hours after she had returned.
Around eight that night, Spike finally slinked out of his room. As he quietly headed down the hallways, he could hear Jet in his bonsai room, fussing softly with his beloved trees. He looked up quickly as he heard Ed scuttle through the air ducts and shook his head at the girl's insane thoughts of fun.
Easing into the common room, Spike was quick to notice a body occupying the couch. It was Faye, of course. She couldn't be in her room like a normal person, no, she had to be on the couch and taunt him for his neglect. He noticed that she was sleeping, though, and was able to easily maneuver around her.
He was heading out for a little while, though he didn't dare tell anyone, but before he left, he stole a longing glance at Faye. He wasn't sure what he was longing for, necessarily. Maybe he wanted to touch her, or perhaps he wanted to explain. Or maybe he just simply wanted to look at her, because she always had a way of soothing his soul. But not tonight, not right now. After a minute more, he spun away from her and continued to his destination.
Spike walked around town for about half an hour before he finally stopped at a place he deemed respectable. Tonight's outing would take him to the 'Red Remus Bar', a simple establishment that would do for the night. Upon entering, he dully noted the bleak atmosphere of the tavern. It was perfect for him, so it seemed. Taking up a seat at the bar this time around, Spike ordered his requisite ginger ale and lit himself a cigarette.
For a moment or two, he was sure that he was going to look up and see Delilah's perky face, but this was a different bar. And he didn't want to see her perky face. He didn't want to see her at all.
He sat for a long time, letting his cigarette burn away in his fingers. By the time he noticed, his cig was almost gone, so he took one last puff and dashed it out in the ashtray. He knocked back his drink and all but shuddered at its bland, unfulfilling flavor. He knew what he wanted, what he craved, but he couldn't ask for it. He wouldn't. If he did, then he would drink it, and if he drank it, then it could very well be beginning of the end for him.
"I see you're done," the bartender said, breaking Spike's reverie.
Looking up and feeling so relieved that said bartender was a man, Spike nodded and tapped his glass.
"Are you sure you just want ginger ale? A man like you doesn't seem like he could be satisfied by something so tame."
"My drink is fine," Spike said, emotionless.
"Here," the man said as he sat a drink down in front of Spike. "It's got a kick in it…scotch. You look like you need a stiff drink, so this one's on the house."
"Take it back," Spike said as he scooted the drink back towards the man.
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Shrugging, the bartender brought Spike another drink, pure ginger ale this time. He didn't take the other drink back, though; he left it there as a wondrous temptation. And tempting, it was. Suddenly, Spike felt as if he was in the Garden of Eden…well, a seedier version of it, at least. And the bartender had been the serpent, and he was obviously Eve. Now, was he going to adhere to what God had said, or was he going to condemn all mankind, and take the drink?
Or in a more colorful metaphor, Spike was like Alice. He'd fallen down the rabbit hole a long time ago, and now he was faced with the cakes that said 'eat me' and the drinks that told him to 'drink me'. One would make him grow while the other would make him shrink; it just depended on what he wanted to do.
Scrunching his face up and realizing that each outcome still left him as a woman, Spike picked up a drink and effortlessly knocked it back. Perhaps he knew which drink he picked up, and then again, maybe he didn't, but the sweet taste of alcohol was a welcomed surprise nonetheless. Deciding that he might as well go balls to the wall, Spike order up another drink and downed just as quick.
It was about eleven o'clock when Spike finally stopped. Seven empty glasses sat in front of him and each one had increased in potency with each drank he took. He wasn't drunk; no one could convict him of that, but he was buzzed. Delightfully buzzed, at that. He felt as if there was something that was brining him down, something that made him upset, but at the moment, he couldn't remember for the life of him. Why had he stopped drinking, if it took his problems away so effectively?
Leaving a grateful tip on the counter, Spike all but danced out of the bar and headed back home to sleep off his growing haze. Noticing that he was in a familiar part of town, Spike decided he'd take a shortcut and get home faster. He couldn't quite remember how he had come upon such a sleazy route, but if it got him back to his bed quicker, then who was he to complain.
"I haven't seen you around here in quite a while," an oddly familiar voice echoed from behind Spike.
Stopping quickly, pulling out his Jericho and turning around, Spike steadied the barrel of his gun on the voice and narrowed his eyes into focus.
"Who are you?"
"Who am I? You mean you don't remember me? I only provided you with the best hits of your life," the man said as he smirked at Spike and his gun.
Eyes grew wide, then, and Spike knew exactly who he was looking at. It was his dealer, the man that had gotten him into heroin in the first place. Lowering his gun and falling back against the wall, Spike's heart began to race and he was suddenly faced with that scenario that he prayed he'd never see.
"What's the matter, man? You get clean or something?"
His voice was just the way that Spike remembered – smooth, cool, and all too inviting. Spike wanted to turn and run away as fast as he could, but a familiar beating in his veins stayed him.
"You may think you're as clean as you were before you ever tried the stuff, but trust me, you ain't never gonna be free of it. I can see it in your eyes right now; you want it. You want it bad. I bet that arm of yours is hurtin' real bad, begging you to take a hit, ain't it?"
Spike looked away from him, but couldn't keep the man's silky voice from slithering into his ears. If Spike thought he had met the serpent back in the bar, then this must be the king cobra of them all.
"Here," he said, holding out the instruments that were still very familiar to Spike. "How about a hit? On the house. What's the worse that could happen?"
What's the worse that could happen! There was a virtual smorgasbord of things that could go wrong, but as Spike hungrily eyed the contents in his ex-dealer's hand, that smorgasbord quickly dwindled into nonexistence. Flickering his eyes from the man's hand to his eyes, Spike felt whatever resolve he had left quickly fade into oblivion. Didn't he just tell Jet a couple of weeks ago that he still craved this? Hadn't he been getting terrible, withdrawal-like headaches lately?
It was just one hit, that's all it was, and that's all it would be. He had enough self-restraint to not get hooked on this stuff again, and just one hit wouldn't do much. Right?
Holstering his gun and reaching out with suddenly shaking hands, Spike grabbed the stuff from the open hand in front of him and slid to the dirty, alley ground. Though it had been over a year since he last did this, it was just like riding a bicycle. In no time, Spike had the heroin melted, his vein popped and ready, and the needle slipping neatly into his arm.
The instant jolt in his system was almost more than Spike could take. Mixed with the alcohol buzz, Spike was transported to a type of nirvana and he had no plans on coming down soon. He smiled a lazy smile and remembered the sweet, sweet taste of heroin, which was weird, in a way, seeing as though the drug never touched his lips.
Pulling himself up off the ground, he handed the needle back over the dealer and gave him an appreciative nod.
"Thanks," Spike said as he walked away.
"Any time, buddy; I'm always glad to help."
Feeling better than he had in a long time, Spike all but skipped home. It had turned out to be a great night for him, after all.
A little after twelve a.m. is when Spike finally strolled back in to the Bebop. He was buzzed, high, and extremely happy, and now all he wanted to do was sleep while nestled in that bliss. The lights in the ship were all off, save for the lights that naturally stayed on, and Spike was confident that everyone was asleep. Slowing making his way around a still occupied couch, Spike tossed a quick look at a still sleeping Faye and headed on his way.
"Where did you go?" Faye's sleepy voice drifted over to him.
Spike was pretty positive that his cringe was visible, even in the near darkness, but he continued to walk on, hoping she would think that she was dreaming.
"Spike? Is it that hard to talk to me?"
It was the hurt in her voice that finally made him stop and turn around to her. He thought of several things to say, but decided not to answer until she asked him first.
"Where were you?" She asked, concern apparent in her voice.
"Nowhere important," was his curt answer.
"…Oh," she quietly said. "I just thought…"
And she cut herself short. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, Faye stared hard at Spike, easily noticing that something about him was off. Seeing her begin to scrutinize him, Spike turned away from her and shifted slightly under her gaze.
"Where did you say you were?" She asked again, a sudden strict tone now coming out.
"I said 'nowhere important'."
She studied him some more, remembering his mannerisms all too well, and then it struck her and she almost felt her heart stop.
"You…you're drunk," she hesitantly said.
"I'm not drunk…I'm just buzzed," he admitted.
"And…God, Spike…you're high, aren't you?" Her words were barely an angry whisper as she said it.
"Well aren't we just little miss know-it-all?" Spike said, a snarky tone heavy in his voice.
"Spike, I thought…you said…how, how could you?" Faye asked him, almost unable to grasp the situation.
"Don't fucking interrogate me, Faye; I don't have to explain myself to you."
"I'm in the hospital for a month, and this is what you're off doing, instead of coming to see how I'm doing!"
"At least 'this', as you put it, doesn't bitch all the goddamn time," he bit back.
"Christ, your back to that nasty attitude already," Faye bitterly noted.
Screwing up his face at her words, and noticing her sitting up, Spike walked over to Faye. For a moment, he could see it in her eyes that she thought he might hit her, but he didn't; he would never lay a hand on her again, though she may not believe that. He reached over her and grabbed hold of her crutches, knowing that those where her only way of getting around effectively at the moment.
"What are you doing?" She asked with a bit a fear.
"Here's a lesson for you, Faye: don't worry about things that you have no control over."
And with that, he picked up her crutches and walked away from her. Faye watched him as he retreated into the darkness of the ship, and started shaking her head, trying to make the things she saw not true. How could he? Why would he? Had she lost touch with him so badly, so quickly? As was becoming her daily activity of late, Faye felt the tears running down her cheeks before she even registered that she was crying. Didn't he know what this was doing to her? To himself? To everybody? Why was everything falling apart again, and why didn't she know how to fix it?
sigh...he's back at it again. i'm sure none of us wanted a relapse, but then again, i'm sure none of us wanted this craziness in the first place. so, what's gonna happen now? don't ask me, i'm just the author. well, we'll find out soon. so then, thanks for stopping by.
phoenix
