Bad: Chapter 4

"We chase misprinted lies
We face the path of time
And yet I fight
And yet I fight
This battle all alone
No one to cry to

No place to call home"

- Alice in Chains


Weeks passed that were much the same. No sleep, lying awake all night, staring into the TV.

This was grief, he realized. Perhaps it should have been obvious, but it wasn't. It was easy to attribute his irritation to his tense relationships with Jet and Faye, to blame the lack of sleep and inability to focus on his poor physical state.

But it was all about her. He knew it because slowly his thoughts about her were changing. Before, he would think of her and the jarring realization that he was never going see her ever again would hit him and it would feel new every single time, twenty times a day. But that feeling was starting to dull. It was beginning to come familiar and each realization of the truth was more easily processed than the last.

They were docked on Mars. He got up and dressed himself, early—before anyone else was up, and flew to the city.

He went and saw the Doc again. He was pissed off that Spike woke him up so early, but he checked him out anyway. He told him that his leg hadn't sustained any nerve damage, but that he was looking forward to months of physical therapy. He gave him some instructions, told him that Jet would have to help him.

It was still early when he left. He wandered into a weathered corner store near the waterfront and bought some cigarettes, cereal, milk, and a bouquet of flowers with his last few dollars.

He sat on a concrete bench. The water looked metallic in the gray morning. It swayed, no waves forming or breaking. He took out the flowers, removed them from their paper, and began tossing them one-by-one into the water.

He saved a red rose for last.


When he came in Jet was in the kitchen. He took the folded papers the doctor had given him out of his pocket and handed them to Jet.

"What's this?"

"Physical therapy stuff. I'm losing my goddamn mind sitting around here all day."

Spike sat down at the table and unbagged his milk and cereal. Jet handed him a bowl and spoon out of the drying rack.

"Thanks."

He poured a bowl. Jet made himself a cup of coffee and sat down, looking over the papers Spike had given him.

"You want some?"

"That's kiddie stuff."

Faye entered toweling her hair.

"Hey, no one told me there was cereal."

She sat down at the little table that was quickly becoming overcrowded and poured herself a bowl.

"I could eat cereal for every meal," she said, mouth full.

Jet's expression read something like, 'Told ya so.'

"What's the next bounty?"

"You think you're game?"

"Guess we'll find out."

The three of them sat at the table, finishing up their breakfasts, and everything was alright.


"If your plan wasn't stupid I wouldn't be calling it stupid."

"Maybe it's not stupid. Maybe you just don't understand it."

"Oh, so I guess that means I'm stupid."

Spike supposed it was foolish to expect that the cereal would have gained him any good will. It had seemed to do the trick for a minute or two. He screwed up his face, contemplating this unfortunate turn.

"What's that look for?"

"Nothing. Jesus. I can't even make a face without you jumping down my throat."

"Oh, excuse me. Maybe if everything you did wasn't so condescending I wouldn't be so sensitive."

"You have a vagina, Faye. Irrationality is in your nature."

"Ho-ho! We've got a fucking comedian here."

"ENOUGH!"

Spike and Faye both sheepishly shrank away from their petty altercation.

"He started it."

A look of disbelief overtook Jet's face.

"Fucking Christ. You two are relentless. It's a wonder I have a hair left on my head. Maybe I should take this one alone."

"No way! This is my guy. I got the intel."

"I'll give you your fair share, but we need to move on this one or you will be eating that cereal for every meal."

"Why can't we do it together? It will be easier that way."

Jet cast a look in Spike's direction. He had learned his lesson the other day at the doctor's office. "Someone needs to stay with Spike."

"Oh, what the fuck! I'm not a fucking cripple!"

"Yeah, and since when did I become Florence fucking Nightingale?"

"Who the hell is that?"

"What are you bitching about? You'll get what was coming to you anyway and you don't have to do any work." Jet's tone became quieter. "Please, Faye, do me a favor."

Her face was hard, but she agreed. "Fine, but if this one gets away, we are totally screwed. It's the best lead I've gotten in weeks. You really shouldn't do this alone."

Spike was about to complain again about being treated like an invalid until saw her face soften a bit with something. Perhaps concern? A ghost of something had appeared in the room and then dissipated as quickly as it had come.

He thought maybe he was nuts before when he considered that Jet might actually be into Faye, but here it was again, and it didn't seem to be one-sided.

Faye cast a look at Spike. "Well, I hope you're happy."

"I'm stuck with you now. How could I be?"

Jet rubbed his head. "My god…does it ever end?"


"This is taking forever. Jet should be back by now. Maybe we should go look for him."

"He's only been gone a few hours. Chill out."

"God, I hate it when people say that. It's so fucking annoying."

"What about me doesn't annoy you, Faye?"

She tossed out another card on the table.

"I'm trying to think of something, but I'm drawing a blank. Give me two."

Spike flicked his wrist and two cards appeared before her.

"Since when do you worry so much about Jet anyway?"

"You're the fair-haired kid, Spike."

"What's that mean?"

"It means get over yourself. Jet and I are allowed to be friends, too. You don't have to worry about me stepping on your toes."

"I was just asking a question. You don't have to make it into something it's not."

"Show me your hand."

Spike processed the sentence and after a moment splayed his cards on the table.

"Kings full of 2s."

Faye threw her cards down. "Oh, go to hell."

"Whatcha got?"

"Pair of Jacks. I could have beat you, but I decided to play fair."

"You can't cheat with me. I'll catch you."

"I know. That's why I didn't."

Spike watched as Faye began gathering the deck of cards together, leaning forward and sliding them across the table toward her.

"So, I take it you guys are running around or something?"

Faye's faced turned up to face him, and the anger was immediate.

"Who are you? You've been acting all weird lately. Like a totally different person."

"Jeez, it was just a question."

"Well, it's weird. Quit it. I think you've been sitting around in that dank room too much. It's making your brain soft."

They were silent for a moment while Faye idling shuffled the cards with no apparent intention of dealing another hand.

She kept her eyes on her hands. "What would it matter to you anyway?"

"It wouldn't," Spike said assuredly.

She slammed the deck of cards on the table. "Then quit fucking asking."

With that, she stormed out. Spike noticed a card had slipped off the top of the deck. He picked it up and stared blankly into it.

He hadn't heard it, but Jet had come in behind him.

"Yo, Spike. Whatcha got there?"

"Three of spades."

"Huh?"

"Forget it."

"I brought home bacon. Real bacon. The kind you eat."

"Hah, aces."