Chapter Two: Arc of Time
A/N: Back again with chapter two! Thank you to everyone who has been reading – I really hope your enjoying the story. I feel a bit better about this chapter, though I'm wondering if it's bordering on cheesy. Anyhow, criticism is greatly appreciated, and chapter three will be out shortly. And now, like sands through the hourglass – oh, wait, wrong story…
And then in you'll come
With those marching drums
In a saintly compromise
No more whiskey slurs
No more blonde haired girls
For your whole eternal life
And you'll do the dance
That was choreographed
At the very dawn of time
Singing, I told you son
The day would come
You would die …
-- Bright Eyes
She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, crossing and then re-crossing her legs. She'd always hated hospitals, and now that she'd seen a morgue, she decided it wasn't all that different. The small room smelled almost sickeningly clean. Bleach – pine sol – and the faintest hint of formaldehyde.
"Why me?" she asked.
"Mr. Spiegel has no known living family members. You were the only person we could contact. You and a Mr. … Jet Black. Who, as of yet, we have been unable to reach."
She swallowed, staring blankly at the white-coated woman on her comm. screen. The line was silent, save for the soft hiss of static.
"Miss Valentine? Can you identify the body?"
"Not without seeing his face."
The entire situation seemed a bit strange to her. The coroner called for her to ID the body weeks after Spike's disappearance. Where exactly had he been, anyway? At the bottom of the deepest ocean on Ganymede? Of course, knowing Spike, that really wouldn't surprise her.
Faye sighed, tucking a loose strand of her violet hair behind her ear. Just as she considered bolting from the waiting room, a woman in a white lab coat appeared from behind the large steel double doors leading into the morgue.
"Miss Valentine," she said, motioning to the open door.
Faye stood, nervously smoothing her yellow shorts over her thighs and followed the woman into the morgue.
They walked between what seemed like endless glinting, silver walls. The cold chamber. How fitting.
The woman stopped in front of one of the chamber doors.
"Ready?" Her voice was steady – removed, even. Cold.
Faye just nodded, crossing her arms over her chest.
The woman opened the door and, in one smooth motion, pulled the long table from the chamber.
Faye drew in a long, slow breath. His normally thick, green hair looked black matted against his head. A thin, barely visible crust of blood trailed from his hairline down his temple to his neck. She imagined it must have been a thick river once. The coroner must have missed the residue when she cleaned the rag that quickly became saturated with his blood –
She suppressed the shudder that was rising in her spine and moved her eyes down his form.
His angular shoulder bones looked as though they might tear through his thin, pale flesh, and patches of his skin were visibly stained by blood that had since been wiped clean.
The rest of the body was covered by a thin, white sheet. She had to look away.
"Miss Valentine?"
"What?'
"The body. Is it – "
"His eyes. I need – I need to see his eyes."
The woman looked puzzled for a moment, hesitating. When Faye said nothing, she shrugged, pulling the corpse's eyelids back.
One was noticeably darker than the other that was for sure. And still – something missing …
"No," she said, lifting her eyes from the body.
"What do you mean, no?"
"It isn't him," Faye replied simply. Before the woman could respond Faye turned on her heel and left.
She reached into her pocket and fished around for her pack of cigarettes as she stepped out of the morgue and into the bright hallway. She blinked a few times, letting her eyes readjust to the light before pulling the Zippo from her pocket. As she flipped the top open, she felt a rough hand close around her upper arm.
Faye turned to face a tall, smiling man in a dark pinstripe suit.
"I don't have the money," she said, the cigarette still resting between her lips, "Maybe if you get back to me in – "
The man's smile widened, "I assure you, Miss Valentine, I haven't the least interest in collecting your debts. Now, would you mind coming with me? It will only take a moment."
She leaned in front of the man, craning her neck to see around the corner. Two similarly dressed men were standing on either side of a large, metal door.
Faye pulled the cigarette from her lips, sliding it back into the half-empty pack. "Yeah. Sure."
"Good. Follow me."
The man walked stiffly down the hallway. Faye followed cautiously, attempting to make as little noise as possible.
The man to the left of the door opened it, while the one on the right motioned for them to step inside.
The room was small and plain. A metal table stood in the center of the room, with two matching chairs on either side. A hanging lamp overhead offered the only light in the room. It reminded Faye of the interrogation rooms the police used.
"Please, sit."
Faye did as she was told. She folded her hands neatly in her lap and crossed her legs.
"Cigarette, Miss Valentine?"
"No, thank you," she replied curtly.
The man gave her another half-smirk, settling back in his chair. He was rather handsome. Dark, short hair, dark complexion, deep set eyes, and full, plump lips.
"Very well, then."
"Tell me why I'm here."
"I'm Kennedy, by the way," he said, drawing a cigarette from his pack.
Faye raised a brow.
"Luke Kennedy." He paused to light his cigarette. "Tell me what you know about Spike Spiegel."
Faye hesitated, "He's dead. There isn't much to know."
"Oh? I don't believe that's what you told the nurse."
"I said the body she showed me wasn't him. I never said he was alive."
Luke nodded, "Would you tell me the same story if I offered to make that nasty debt of yours disappear?"
"What business do you have with Spike?"
"You might say I've a score to settle with him," he took another drag from his cigarette, exhaling slowly, "he managed to kill quite a few of our best men before – disappearing."
Faye breathed in sharply, "Then you're – "
He withdrew the lighter from his pocket again, placing it on the table in front of Faye. She could clearly make out the emblazoned Red Dragon emblem on the face of the lighter. She closed her eyes tightly. "Fuck."
"Now, don't you find that a bit odd, Miss Valentine? A man disappears – I mean, presumably, is dead – for weeks and then suddenly the body's found? You're a smart woman. I assume you already knew all of this."
"Even considering that's true, it doesn't mean that he's necessarily alive somewhere. Or that I know anything about his current location."
Luke nodded. "So do you?"
"No."
"I see."
There was a long silence then. Luke took one last drag off his cigarette and crushed it between his fingers. Faye kept her eyes on him expectantly. He withdrew another cigarette from his pack, raising his brow in silent offering to Faye. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. Shrugging, he placed it between his lips and lifted the lighter off the table. A flicker of orange and shadow danced on the wall behind him. It stopped. He slipped the lighter back into his coat pocket.
He leaned forward in his chair, lowering his voice a little. "Like I said, Miss Valentine, if you're willing to cooperate … "
"What exactly are you asking me to do?"
He slid a gun across the table to Faye. She eyed it for a moment. It looked familiar – familiar nicks and scratches, the color… It was Spike's Jericho.
"Join us," he said.
Faye picked the gun up off the table, letting her fingers trail over the cool metal.
"You want me to lead him to you?"
"Come now, Faye – can I call you Faye? – I'd never dream of using a woman like that." Another drag, a puff of smoke. "I want you to kill him."
She set the gun down on the table. "I don't particularly care for Spike. But I don't want him dead."
Luke nodded, reaching for the Jericho. "You're free to leave then, Faye."
She rose slowly and walked toward the door.
"Although – " His voice echoed in the room.
Faye stopped as her hand fell on the door knob. She closed her eyes and swallowed.
"Why protect him? Though I can't say I know much about your relationship, I know for a fact you were – nothing to him."
She stiffened.
"You know as well as I do that Julia – "
Faye clenched her teeth. Julia.
" – was the only woman that was real to him."
She let out a tense breath, and repeated more weakly this time, "I don't want him dead."
Her eyes were still closed, but she could hear Luke moving behind her. His gentle footfalls moved closer, and soon his body was nearly pressed against hers.
"He abandoned you," he said lowly, breathing into her ear.
"That isn't going to work, you know," she said evenly. "Spike and I were never romantically involved."
"That may be, but it doesn't change the fact that your comrade – the man you lived and worked with for years – left you for … for what? A good fuck?" He laughed bitterly, withdrawing the gun from his coat and dragging the cool metal of the barrel against Faye's skin.
She shuddered, "How do you know he'll come back?"
"He has no one else to return to now. Why wouldn't he come crawling back?"
"And the money?"
He brought the gun to her hand, closing her fingers around the grip.
"It will be taken care of."
His hand was still resting on the gun, his finger lay against hers on the trigger.
"I'll do it," she said.
Luke lowered his lips to hear ear again. Warm breath fluttered lightly over her ear. He pulled her finger flush against the trigger, and the sound of metal snapping against metal echoed throughout the room.
"Bang."
