Spike's knee bounced rhythmically, the heels of his black boots clicking against the white tile floor. His eyes shot to a hanging clock, it's second hand ticking echoed across the still hospital corridor.

The same song and dance.

He sighed and tangled his hands in his mangled greenish black mop. It never ceases. This was the life he was accursed to. The cards he had always been dealt. Destiny had only plans of death and despair in wait for Spike. He fished for his pack of cigarettes from his suit jacket and just held the cartridge in his calloused hands. Spike seemed to study the font and design of the box. His hands clenched the plastic packet, bending it, and throwing back into his jacket. One cigarette couldn't feed his hunger, let alone soothe it. His eyes followed the clock's hands once more, memorized by its predictable action.

Why?

That was the question. Spike had asked this to himself in a number of occasions to the point he stopped asking questions all together. 'Shit happens and when it happens, let it happen.'

"Now, how did I let this happen?" Spike watched as a man clothed in blood stained scrubs strolled towards him.

"Yes, are you here for Mr. Black?" Breathed the tired Asian man, stripping off his gorged gloves. Spike nodded in response. "Looks like we were finally able stabilize him...somewhat. He's quite fortunate; normally an injury of his caliber, on top of the amount of blood he lost, would usually spell out disaster."

You don't know the bastard. Spike thought to himself as his eyes flicked back to the small clock. "Can he take visitors?"

"I think he can spare a few minutes. Don't overexcite him. His body is still recuperating from the surgery. Good day." The surgeon bowed his head to Spike and turned to enter a pair of double doors. Spike cased the hallways as he ambled through. He opened the door to room 185 to a bandaged and drowsy Jet tucked into a hospital bed. Jet's hooded eyes peered over to Spike and blankly blinked at him before turning his attention to his room's window. Spike sat himself at the armchair next to the bed and crossed his legs.

"You're wasting your time." Jet slurred through his words. Spike sat quietly and studied the white tile below him, his placid eyes hidden behind shaggy bangs. Sounds of banging and shattering of objects brought back Spike from deep contemplation and his eyes followed Jet's hurried movements. Jet pushed aside his tray and searched for his clothing, whatever there was left of it.

"What are you doing now?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going after her!" Jet tugged the IV at his arm and woozily stumbled onto the floor.

"You stupid old fool." Spike sighed as he made his way over to Jet to aid him. He offered the man sprawled across the floor his hand and in response, Jet slapped away his hand and gruffed. He reached for the bedside rail, using it to pull himself up and gripped it tightly to maintain some sort of balance. At the sudden action, his head became light and he felt the room spinning.

"I promised her, Spike." Jet began, massaging at his temples and clasping his eyelids shut tightly. "I told her if you weren't going to step up and be the father to that baby, then I will." His eyes pierced the black irises of Spike's careless eyes. Spike's shoulders tensed and his grip on the arm of his chair grew taut. Jet's stood up straight, letting one hand off the rail as his chest puffed up with air. "And I'm staying true to my word." Jet pricked his chest with his thumb.

Spike glanced over to the stubborn, brute man and exhaled. He eased his way out of the arm chair and idled near the doorway.

"You get out of this hospital bed," Spike hissed, "and I will kill you with my own two bare hands." He opened the door and exited before even giving Jet the opportunity to refute.


Ishida whispered in the ear of Felix De Leon as he was granted entry into his office. It was merely minutes and he could already feel the heat radiated from his boss's ear alone. It would burn him if he so much as brushed his cheek against him.

"Bring her in here." Roared Felix as the message that the doctor had transmitted was being processed inside his brain.

As the young woman was nudged inside the office, Ishida bowed lowly and excused himself with a eerily wide grin. "I will see you soon." Hummed the thin man as he passed Edie. Edie exposed her fangs and continued toward the desk. She glanced into the wild eyes of the man across her and knew instantaneously of her circumstances.

He knew. His black eyes shone with spite and fire and suddenly she became very afraid. Edie forced herself a few steps forward, closing herself toward his desk but not quite close enough according to pulsing face that greeted her. Felix pushed away his chair and stood, visibly huffing as if he had ran miles on end. He brassily gripped her forearm and jerked her toward him. His touch scorched her cool pale skin.

"When? Huh?" His grip on her compressed further egging a whimper out of Edie's lips. "When were you going to tell me?" Felix howled. Edie flinched under his hold, squeezing her eyes shut. She no longer cared that she looked pathetic now, she was pathetic. Was it all but a facade? Was this the real Edie, was this what remained of Eddy? Eddy the innocent, the loyal, the small. She grew weary of trudging along, carrying her new persona on her frail shoulders. Here was Eddy, cowering under fear, praying for protection. But this time was different. She no longer prayed for protection for herself...she prayed for Jet, Ed, her baby.

Spike.

She shook her head and shooed away the tears from her eyes.

"Was it your business to know?" Croaked Edie.

"You're my business!" Seethed Felix, hurling her to the floor. Here it is. "You have always been my business." His chest pounded ferociously, his reckless heartbeat echoing in his ears. "Eddy, I loved you!" His words stung her, but left a bitter taste in her mouth. He didn't know what love was.

Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away.

"Let me guess... that cowboy is the father? Am I right? Edie, look at me!"

Her eyes roll towards him and all she saw was a monster, smiling maniacally at her. All she could see was hate, rage and murder.

"I will have the heads of your precious nakama here in front of you. And him? I will capture him alive and have you watch as I torture that son of a bitch till he pleads for his death. You will watch Edie, mark my words. That will be the last thing you see before I kill you. That baby of yours, I will take from you and it shall be my own. If I'm lucky it will be a girl and…" Before Felix could finish the rest of his threat, Edie snagged a pen from his desk and aimed it toward her swollen belly. It was her turn to be enraged. All feeling of terror, doubt, pity dissipated between his words. She clenched the pen, but her trembling fingers gave her away.

"Over my dead body," Edie growled, "and over the dead body of my baby. I would kill my baby and then kill myself before I would ever let that happen."

Felix's beaming smile grew tenfold. "My, my. How gutsy…" His words suddenly became muffled and inaudible to Edie. Her vision grew blurry and her grasp on the pen eased, dropping it to the floor, Edie following suit. Her legs wobbled beneath her and gave way. She could feel warm hands all over her. She wanted to scream, she wanted to go home.

Where is home?

The Bebop. With Jet, who she looked up to in admiration, in respect. The man who gave himself so freely to her. With Ed and Ein too, who looked up to her in adoration and love. She could see her younger sister's reflection in the perky, rosy cheeks of Ed. With Spike, who made her life spontaneous and conflicted.

Home is where your heart is and hers was in their hands.

"Make sure she doesn't fall." Edie could make out of Felix's words before she blacked out.


Spike rested his head against his zipcraft's dashboard. His thoughts swamped him into a pool of memories. He just couldn't let it go, could he? He couldn't let her go. Just forget about her. He could see her now as he closed his eyes. She was out in the distance, waving towards him. She'd stride over toward him but the closer and closer she got to him, the more distorted her image became. Her rich blonde hair regressed to short, choppy black waves. Her thin and tall built shrinked to a figure that of a teenaged girl. She waved again at him and this time her smile differed. She wore a goofy smile instead of a timid, smothering one. And now he could see her clearly.

Edie.

She wasn't alone though. Next to her, tugging at her hand, stood a small child. Spike's eyes widened as he noted how the child mirrored him as a young boy. The same long face, narrow brown eyes, wild ebony locks. But when the kid smiled, he looked nothing like him. Spike peaked back at the image of Edie and smirked. He has her smile.

Spike's eyes shot open, and for the first time noted that his breathing grew rapid and heavy. He clutched his chest, a dull, burdening pain harbored inside of him.

I told her if you weren't going to step up and be the father to that baby, then I will.

He blew the bangs from his face and started up the Swordfish.