Pilgrimage

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Four weeks had passed since Faye had fallen into a patch of mud and subsequently learned she was pregnant. By her estimation, she was sixty-eight days into the process of two hundred and eighty. Roughly. Every morning, she would look at her profile in the bathroom mirror and try to gauge whether she was showing. Faye thought that she could detect a little swell in her belly, but then, she'd also put on a little bit of pudge from being so inactive.

Well, inactive relatively speaking, thought Faye. True to his word, Spike had been putting her through some serious exercises and physical therapy, and some of the "sessions" had reduced her to tears and serious name-calling. Jet thought that at one point, Faye had been gibbering curses in Welsh and was invoking demons to come and do away with Spike. And of course, Spike being Spike, all pleas to sway him into letting up on her were met by deaf ears.

On this particular day, however, there was no exercising, for Jet and Spike had gone off in search of a bounty. The cupboards were getting meager, according to Jet. Ed remained behind. Faye found out very quickly that Spike must have put the kibosh on Ed doing every little chore that Faye could be doing herself. So Faye still had to make her own meals, do her own laundry, clean up after herself, etcetera. But Ed did download a bunch of classic movies off the web for them to watch while the guys were gone.

At the moment, Ed was shrieking with delight at The Lollipop Gang as they sang for Dorothy and Toto when the comm buzzed. Faye answered.

"Faye Valentine?"

"Yes?" Faye got up and moved away from the television.

"This is Howie Devine of the Citadel. Have you heard of us?"

"Didn't you take over the El Dorado?"

"Yes. The reason I'm calling is because I want you to be the commentator and spokesperson for the Poker Tour Grand Prix this year. It would start in one week, yeah, I know we're running behind, damn assistant dropped the motherlovin' ball on me, but anyway, this gig will go for the next six months or so. You'd also be playing in invitationals, you know, for charity and that kind of stuff . . ."

Devine continued describing what the pay and the perks would be, and Faye was astounded. She'd be on Venus the whole time, and she would have accommodations in the extended-stay portion of the hotel, plus per diem. On top of a regular and rather lofty paycheck.

". . . So what do you say, Faye? I enjoyed watching you in the IntraGalactic Con last year."

"But . . ." Faye stammered for a moment. "I recently had a bad accident, and I've a broken leg . . ."

"We'll work around that."

"But there's also . . ."

"Whatever it is, we'll work around. Even if you're growing a third eye. Be tough on the makeup department, but they're sharp cookies over there. You don't got a third eye, do you?"

Faye chuckled. "Not a third eye per se."

"Okay, then. Should be easy as pie." Devine gave her his number, and the request that she not take too long to think about it. Faye thanked him and logged off the comm.

Faye returned to the sofa, but she was too deep in thought to watch the rest of the movie with Ed. The offer was almost too good, and she would have simply written Devine and his offer off except that she knew about the Grand Prix. She'd even applied for a spot before she had her accident, which she had never heard back from, so she assumed that she'd gotten the axe.

But commentator? She'd done some of that of her last tour, and she'd enjoyed it, too. The cameras loved her: she was sassy and irreverent; that is, she basically acted like the supposed "shrew" that Spike claimed she was.

The question was, would the public enjoy a sassy, irreverent, pregnant commentator? Well, Devine said they'd work around it. And with what she was getting paid, she'd be able to afford some sassy maternity gowns too.

Faye finally realized that Ed was trying to get her attention by singsonging "Faye-faye", over and over. Faye blinked and said, "What, Ed?"

"Why is Faye-faye not watching movie with Ed?"

"Why has Ed reverted to talking like she's thirteen again?"

"Ed asked first."

Faye rolled her eyes. "Ed, what would you think if I told you I was just offered a really plum job on Venus?" Faye told Ed what Devine had told her. "I know it's probably a one-shot deal right now, but if Devine remembered me that whole time I was in that two-bit poker tour, imagine what kind of press I'd get on a big show like this!"

Ed's eyebrows knitted together. "So you'd live on Venus?"

"For now, yes."

"What about the baby?"

Faye smiled. "Well, right now the baby doesn't have much of a choice, Ed, it kind of has to go where I go."

"Why haven't you told Papa yet?"

Faye's smile faded. "Why would I tell him?"

Ed scowled. "Why wouldn't you?" Ed took a breath. "I don't understand why you're keeping the baby a secret from Papa. Do you care that little for him; after all he's done for you?"

"Honestly, Ed, this is none of your business, and the only reason you even know is because of your damn hacking!"

"I think he'd want to know."

"Jet doesn't need to know."

Ed was incredulous. "You're saying a father doesn't need to know about his baby? Nice one, Faye. Whatever. Do whatever you want; run off to Venus, I don't care anymore." Ed got up and started leaving the room.

Faye yelled after her, "You're not going to tell him!"

Ed whirled around. "I'm not. But you should." Ed stomped away, and Faye heard her door close in the distance.

Faye put her palms against her cheeks. They were hot. Her eyes were stinging with tears. How did Ed guess? I've never mentioned that Jet . . . Faye sighed. The girl guessed, and then Faye had given it away. You walked right into it, Faye, stupid, stupid.

Faye hadn't told Jet because, well, she was scared. She felt pretty certain that Jet wouldn't want to be tied down for the next 18-something years because she'd gotten tipsy on a bottle of mediocre wine. And had apparently been lax in taking her birth control. She thought she was good about that, but somewhere, she must have forgotten and then forgot that she forgot. Jet had even asked her, are we going to be okay, and of course Faye, in her stupid horny and aroused fog, had said, sure, no worries.

Damnit, Faye thought. Three little words again. Christ on a crutch.

In an effort to clear her head, Faye lay back on the couch and alternated bringing her knees up to her chest, and holding them in the most bent position she could as long as she could. She had been doing this about a half an hour when she heard Jet and Spike return. Jet was grumbling about something-or-other, and apparently Spike's response was to light a cigarette. Jet grumbled again about no smoking on the ship, and then made a loud protest when Spike apparently extinguished the light on his own tongue.

Faye made her best attempt to ignore the long-standing familiarities as she continued her knee-bending exercise. She then opened her eyes when she felt Spike's hand pushing her bent leg further down to her chest, which made Faye cry out in pain. "Now hold it there," Spike muttered.

"You're a grade-A sadistic bastard," replied Faye through her gritted teeth. "You don't treat Ed like this, do you?"

"Are you kidding? She's as flexible as a rubber band. She could make the best contortionist weep."

Faye raised an eyebrow. "And you know this from experience?"

Spike gave her a look. "No. Now the other leg."

Faye switched legs, but she felt it necessary to continue needling Spike. "So what is your experience with Ed?" Spike said nothing, but he took both of Faye's legs by the ankles and pushed them into a 90-degree angle from her hips. "I hear that flexibility is the key to every relationship."

Spike gave her legs an extra push, which made her tailbone twinge. Faye gasped. Spike said, "You can say what you like about me, but I won't have you talking about Ed like that."

Faye sighed. She had no right to be bad-mouthing Ed like this, especially after all the help she had given Faye since her release from the hospital. "I'm sorry. It must be the hormone stew talking again." And then Faye drew a quick breath, and looked at Spike to see if her slip had been noticed. Apparently, it hadn't, as he was more concerned about the fact that the range of motion of each of her knees was different.

Jet finally came out of the kitchen. "Well, we should be good for groceries for a while."

"So you got the bounty?" asked Faye.

Jet shrugged. "Well, yeah, but it wasn't going to be enough to cover expenses so Ed sold off a couple of her patents to float us all for a while." Faye suddenly looked dismayed. "What's wrong, Faye?"

"It's . . . Christ, Jet, I feel terrible. I've just been a lay about for weeks, not contributing at all . . ."

Jet scowled. "You've been injured."

"I'm a burden."

Spike helped Faye into a sitting position. "No one's saying you're a burden, Faye."

"No, you're not saying it, but I am! Ed has to support us because I can't pull my weight!"

"Faye," replied Jet, "It was Ed's idea to sell off those two patents. She was able to secure a bundle for them. It won't be too long before you're able to get back in the game."

Faye sniffed. "Back in the game. Right. My hand's completely bungled, I'm a complete weakling. I wouldn't be of any help. I'm an albatross around your neck." Faye bit her lip. "Look, I got a call today. The new owner of the old El Dorado property wants me to commentate the Poker Grand Prix. It's cushy, it's . . . non-aerobic, it's semi-permanent, and it's good money. I can transfer funds to you guys to pay you back . . ."

"Hold on, hold on, Faye." Jet looked puzzled. "You're saying you're taking off back to Venus? 'Semi-permanently'?"

"I . . ." Faye looked down. "I can't be a bounty hunter anymore. I just can't. And this opportunity – it's come at a perfect time."

Now Jet looked dismayed. "There's no reason you can't stay, Faye."

"No, Jet. It's time for me to do this. Now. Today."

Jet and Spike looked at each other. Jet said, "What, now? You're not strong enough to fly the Redtail there."

"No, I know . . . I'll take a commercial transport. You can sell the Redtail."

Sell the Redtail? Jet thought wildly. She's that serious? "Well, the Redtail's not taking up an excessive amount of real estate. It can stay."

"Well, then," Faye said, as she stood up. "I've got some calls to make." She slowly limped from the room, and Jet and Spike watched her go.

Spike took a look at Jet. "Sounds like she's really going this time. What do you think?"

Jet stared off into the middle space for a while, and then bit his lip. He rose, saying, "I think I'm going to start dinner." Spike watched as Jet walked towards the kitchen. But instead of hearing chopping and pot-banging noises, only silence came from the kitchen. Spike walked out to the deck, not only so that he could finish his interrupted cigarette, but to give Jet some time alone.

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