24 December 2009

Too Many Secrets 7/?

Saving Grace

Once on the street, Faye breathed a sigh of relief. She looked to her left and decided that it was too dark and too quiet for her restless mood. She looked in the opposite way which had to be the downtown, there were enough bright lights to flood the sky, and the traffic seemed to be heading that way, so she knew that was where she wanted to go. Her senses alert, she started off in that direction, walking briskly with a sense of purpose.

When she reached the downtown merchant section, she slowed to a leisurely pace and strolled along the avenue, peering into the shop windows, pausing occasionally to look closer at a dress. She loved dressing up, even though there were very few occasions to wear fancy clothes. In her mind, you could never have too many dresses as you never knew when you might need to make a dramatic entrance. One such dress caught her eye, and she stopped to stare at a luxurious velvet evening gown on display at Cosette's Boutique. The dress was a rich, dark burgundy in luxurious velvet, and she knew immediately that she wanted it. It was her kind of dress, the kind that would accentuate her figure and turn a lot of heads. Faye fingered the money card in her pocket and chewed on her bottom lip, wondering how many woolongs were on it. Judging by the décor in Spike's place, she could guess that there wouldn't be much, but there was only one way to find out. She hesitated only for a moment before she opened the door to the shop and stepped inside.

The boutique was empty save for the shop keeper straightening a rack of dresses in the middle of the floor. He looked up when Faye came in.

"May I help you miss?" the shop keeper asked pleasantly, his eyes glancing over the outfit that Faye was wearing.

Faye was suddenly glad that she had worn the expensive black dress, which she had worn mainly to impress Spike. She knew that she looked good in it; now it appeared to have another useful purpose.

"Yes, you can." she said, giving the shop keeper a lofty smile. "I would like to purchase that dress in the window."

Faye turned towards the shop entrance, gesturing to the dress in the window. "But I don't know if my … husband has given me the right card." She turned back to the owner and gave him a dazzling smile. "Would you be so kind as to check the woolongs on my card?"

The shop keeper smiled back at the beautiful woman before him. "Of course, madam."

Faye handed him the card and ambled around the shop, picking up things and setting them on the counter to purchase as if she had the money to buy them. A few minutes later, the shop keeper returned with her card.

Faye looked at him, expecting the worse.

"Miss, I do not think that you will have any problems buying anything in the shop."

Faye looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Your husband is a very generous man. You have over 200 million on this card."

Faye suppressed a gasp and turned on a sexy smile before walking over to the lingerie section. Her thoughts were going a mile a minute as her suspicions about what Spike did for money were confirmed. She couldn't believe it. Defiantly she decided to play up the role of wife of her "generous husband" and spend as much of his money as she could. An hour later, she had finished shopping, her bags filled with the most expensive clothing that Cosette's Boutique had to offer. And she had only used up half the woolongs on Spike's card.

The traffic had thinned considerably since Faye had entered the shop. She headed back in the direction of Spike's apartment. Her hands ached a little from the weight of her bags, and she wished that she had gotten the shop keeper to call a taxi for her.

As she was nearing the sector where Spike lived, Faye felt a sense of unease as the sound of footsteps reached her ears. She listened intently, not breaking her pace, and felt a slight chill at the back of her neck as she realized that she was being followed. She pressed her elbow against her torso, reassured that her Glock was still in her sweater. She hoped that she would not have to use it; she really liked the things that she had bought with Spike's money and didn't like the thought that she might have to leave the bags behind.

She slowed for a moment to listen, pretending to adjust the weight of the bags in her hands. The footsteps also slowed, and when she started walking again, she heard the steps behind her resume, but they seemed to be closer than before.

She whirled around and came face to face with her stalker. He was tall and very sturdily built, and her heart sank as she realized that she would never be able to take him down. She just hoped that his brawny build meant that he was slow witted, because she would have to rely on her wits and some quick thinking to get out of this situation.

"Why are you following me?" she demanded as she looked up into his steely eyes, her harsh words belying the nervousness she felt inside.

The man stared down at her, his eyes brazenly appraising her, stopping as they reached her chest. For a fleeting moment, Faye recalled Spike's words to her not to wander around his neighborhood. She had thought that he was being his usual controlling and insufferable self; too late she realized that his warning words had been for her safety.

"You looking for a good time, babe?"

The man's eyes continued to rove down her body, and Faye suppressed the urge to smash her fist in his face. She needed to keep her wits about her. She faked a giggle and hoped that the man was too stupid to notice.

"I really need to get home before my boyfriend finds out I've been out shopping again," she said daintily, shifting her bags to her left hand so that her shooting hand was free to reach her gun.

"What's your name, babe?" the man asked as he moved closer to her.

"Faye," she answered sweetly, shifting her arm closer to her side.

"Pretty name, Faye," he leered down at her. "Handon here."

Faye's heart sank as the name and face of her attacker registered in her mind. Handon Rives, featured just a few days before on the resurrected show Big Shots. Handon Rives, wanted for rape and burglary. Last known location: Tharsis, Mars.

Faye really wished now that she had listened to Spike. She reached into her jacket to pull out her Glock.

The man moved suddenly, grabbing her arm and preventing her from getting a grasp on her weapon. He twisted her arm behind her as he pulled her towards a darkened alley. Faye tried to sweep her legs across him to push him off balance, but he was a step ahead of her. He grabbed her other arm and pushed her to the concrete, her bags scattering to the ground.

Faye tried not to panic as she tried to twist out of his grasp. Rives gripped her wrist tighter to prevent her from moving. She was strong, but he was stronger and bigger. Even though Faye felt herself losing the battle, she refused to give in and she drew in a few ragged breaths to try harder. It was no use. Rives pulled her hands together into one large fist and with the other hand and his knee shoved her legs apart, easily holding her in place. He pulled out a knife and sliced it across her panties, and they fell away from her body. Faye realized that she was not going to be able to stop him, and she tried to accept the futility of her struggle. As Rives hovered above her, she closed her eyes and tried to close her mind off from what was happening to her.

The click of a gun brought her back to the present. She opened her eyes and looked up to see Spike standing there, still and imposing as a marble statue.

"Get off of her," he said quietly, eyes cold as ice.

Rives hesitated as he stared into the barrel of the Jericho.

"Hey man, relax; you can have a go at her when I'm done." He laughed and turned back to Faye.

"I said get off her," Spike repeated, taking the safety off of the gun.

Rives paused again but did not turn around, instead reaching into his pants. Spike moved forward, and pushed the gun against Rives ahead.

"Look- " Rives started to speak, but he never got the chance to finish because Spike pulled the trigger.

Rives' body dropped onto Faye in a heap and she gasped as the wind was knocked out of her. She lifted her hands to heave his body away from her but his dead weight was too heavy for her to budge. Then Spike was there, lifting a heavy boot and roughly shoving Rive's body off of her and onto the concrete. Faye scooted into a half sitting position and pulled her dress down to cover herself. She felt ashamed at having being caught in a compromising position by, of all people, Spike. Still, she was relieved beyond belief that he had shown up.

She braced herself and tried to stand, but her legs were trembling so much that she found herself back on the ground. Spike leaned down and gripped her arm as he helped her up, and held her close to him for a minute until her shaking eased. She slid her hand away from his arm and wrapped her arms around herself, relieved that the ordeal was over. Something warm and sticky trickled down her elbow and she rubbed her arm roughly as she replayed the memory of Rives toppling on top of her, his brain matter splattering over her dress. She knew that she would never wear it again. She felt completely exposed even though her body was clothed, and she shivered audibly even though the night was warm and murky.

Spike was searching the area for her things and had found her discarded panties, which he stuffed into his pants pocket. He looked over at Faye and noticed her shivering, and he took off his jacket and walked over to her, wordlessly handing it to her.

She mumbled her thanks and slid her arms into the sleeves, noticing that it was still warm from his body heat. She pulled the jacket closer, her hands holding the sides to keep it closed. Spike gathered up the packages that she had dropped and placed them in her hands. He started walking and she followed close behind him, her head bowed, as they headed down the darkened street towards his apartment.

Faye's thoughts were racing through her brain in a jumbled kaleidoscope but her body felt like it was moving underwater. Her ears thrummed with a loud buzzing and she forced herself to breathe deeply to keep the panic from setting in. She didn't notice until too late that Spike had stopped abruptly and she put out her hand to keep from crashing into him.

"Need some help back there, Romani?" he teased as he looked back at her.

Faye heard him but she didn't immediately answer.

"Hey Romani, you okay?"

She looked up to find him scrutinizing her, his eyes displaying a look of concern that was quickly masked.

She nodded.

He reached over and gripped her hand. She tensed, unsure of his purpose.

"You're a little slow moving, aren't you?" he murmured. "Come on, let's get you inside."

He continued forward, leading her like a mother would a child, until finally they reached his apartment building. They trudged up to the second floor, him still holding onto her hand. When they reached the apartment door, he released her hand and unlocked the apartment, ushering her inside.

* * *

Faye walked into the living room as if in a daze, and lowered herself onto the sofa. She could hear Spike in the kitchen, opening cabinets and fiddling with something. She looked around the room and its familiarity along with Spike's presence made her feel safe.

Spike returned with a bottle of bourbon and two glasses which he sat down on the coffee table. He filled a glass and handed it to her.

"Here, drink."

She sniffed the contents before raising the glass to her lips, swallowing the liquid. She took a deep breath as she felt the slow burn all the way to her stomach. She handed the glass back.

"More?"

She shook her head.

"What – Romani turning down free drinks?"

She glanced up at him quickly. "No, I… no," she said softly, looking away from him.

He set her glass on the coffee table and filled his own glass, finishing it before picking up his cigarettes from the coffee table. He lit one and handed it to her before sitting down next to her and lighting up another for himself. They sat together, not talking. Spike refilled the glasses, draining his. Faye's glass remained untouched.

"You going to finish that?" he asked, looking down at her.

She picked up the glass obediently and took a sip, not looking at him.

"Faye … "Spike reached over and took her chin, forcing her to look at him. This time he did not try to mask the worry in his eyes.

"Did he – "

"No, you got there before he -" She turned away quickly, her chin sliding out of his hand. She took another sip from her glass and fiddled with the rim.

"Do you need to … to take a shower?" he asked quietly.

Faye shook her head. "Not right now."

Spike stood up from the sofa and paused before her, as if unsure of what to say.

"Well, I'm going to." He headed towards the bathroom. "Don't smoke all my cigarettes."

Her eyes followed him as he left, relieved that he was gone. She wasn't used to Spike showing any emotion other than annoyance or indifference, and she had felt a little trapped under his concern. She heard the shower start as he turned on the water, and she relaxed a little, taking a small sip from her glass before throwing caution to the wind and downing the entire contents. She breathed in deeply as the liquid hit her empty stomach, and she instantly regretted her hasty action. She went into the kitchen to look for the leftover Thai food from dinner, deciding to eat a little of the rice, and immediately felt a little better. She poured herself a little more bourbon and took larger sips, eventually feeling the effects of the alcohol.

She sat back on the sofa and let her head fall back against the cushions. She felt drained, as though years rather than mere hours had passed since she had left the Bebop that morning. She slid Spike's jacket from her shoulders and examined her dress, fingering the spaghetti strap that Rives had ripped away. It had been one of her favorite dresses. She sighed and pulled the jacket back over her shoulders.

The shower had stopped, and she tensed when the door to the bathroom opened. She wasn't sure if she was ready to deal with Spike just yet, but it was his apartment, after all. He walked into the room clad only in a towel around his waist and went immediately for his cigarettes, drops of water from his hair falling onto the coffee table. She tried not to look at his bare chest, which was still damp from his shower, but wonder overcame her fear and she gaped at the thick scar that ran from his abdomen to his hip. Her eyes widened as she realized just how close he had come to death. He noticed her stare.

"Yeah." He laughed mirthlessly. "Vicious really did a number on me."

"How did you survive that?" she asked, glancing up at him.

He shrugged. "Beats me." He put the cigarette between his lips, not bothering to light it. "Just lucky, I guess." He leaned over slightly, scrutinizing her. "You should probably take a shower now. There's some grey gunk in your hair."

Faye jumped up from her seat and her hands flew up to her hair as she looked up at Spike in horror.

He grinned at her. "Don't worry, there's plenty of hot water left."

She rushed into the bathroom and stripped off her clothes, turning the water on to as hot as she could withstand. She gingerly stepped inside the shower under the water, and didn't relax until she felt the stream of water filtering through her hair. She scrubbed every portion of her body, watching the soapy water swirl down the drain. She felt squeamish as she recalled the splatter of what she had thought was blood hitting her face.

When she finally felt clean enough, she stepped out of the shower and went to reach for a towel, but froze when she realized that she hadn't gotten one from Spike. She opened the bathroom door a crack and peeked out.

"Spike!" She waited breathlessly for him to answer.

A few short minutes later he appeared.

"What's wrong?"

She looked up at him through the crack in the door. "I need a towel."

He looked at her in surprise, then down at himself. He was still clad in the towel. He appeared to be thinking, then wordlessly he unwrapped the towel from around his waist and handed it to her, a grim look on his face.

Faye swallowed and kept her eyes on his face, too embarrassed to look anywhere else.

"Thanks," she muttered. Heart pounding, she clenched the towel and shut the bathroom door. She wrapped herself in the towel then walked over to the sink to look at her face in the mirror. The burning color on her cheeks was fading to a dull flush. She leaned back against the door wearily, wondering if the faintness she felt was from the steamy room or the bourbon, or the stares that she was unaccustomed to seeing from Spike.

After a few minutes, she remembered what she was supposed to be doing, and she forced herself to focus. She wrapped the towel around her dripping hair and rubbed vigorously until her hair was dry. She looked into the medicine cabinet, hoping that Spike owned a brush.

To her surprise he did, and she picked it up, brushing through her thick tresses to loosen the knots she had created from drying it so roughly. Finally satisfied, from habit she looked on the toilet seat for her clothes and froze when she realized that she had nothing to change into. She dreaded having to call him again.

Wrapping the towel around her, she opened the door a crack, listening for Spike. It was quiet, so he must have gone out. Faye crept across the hall to the bedroom, and slipped inside the room. Before he got back, she would find something of his to wear, so that she wouldn't have to ask him and watch him look her up and down before deciding to answer.

She went over to the dresser and opened the top drawer, where Spike always kept his t-shirts. She let her towel drop to the floor as she grabbed one and lifted it to slip over her head. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Spike cleared his throat behind her. In her haste, she had left the door ajar and now Spike was leaning against it, clad in training pants and shirtless. Faye pulled the t-shirt down hastily, once again feeling her cheeks burn in embarrassment.

"You need something?" he asked, his eyes quickly straying down her body before returning to her face.

"Obviously," she said haughtily. "I needed to borrow some of your clothes."

Spike bowed to her, sweeping his across the air towards the dresser. "Don't let me stop you," he smirked. "You've never asked before, why should now be any different?"

"I have never borrowed any of your things," Faye protested with a frown.

"Sure you have."

"When?" she asked. "Name one time."

Spike tapped his finger against his chin as he thought for a moment. "Hmm, let's see." He looked back at her with a grin on his face. "On Ganymede when you slipped and fell off the dock, remember?"

Faye remembered and she smiled to herself as she recalled the ridiculousness of the situation.

They were on Ganymede because Jet wanted to relax for a few days, much to the protest of the crew, except for Ed, who didn't mind at all. Faye grudgingly decided to make the best of the situation and work on her tan while they were stuck there, since Jet was the only one with woolongs, and he wasn't sharing. Spike figured he might as well give the Swordfish a good washing since there was nothing else to do, and anyway, as long as there was food in the fridge, he could deal with it. Ed hung out with Jet on the dock, their bare feet hanging over the edge as they fished, looking the perfect picture of father and daughter. Faye was laid out in the sun in her bikini and sunglasses, and as the sun would move across the sky, she would move her chair with it, trying to eke out as the last bit of rays before sundown. Her last chair move, however, was a slight bit too close to the Swordfish and the dock's edge, and when she got up, she slipped on the wet dock right into the water. Spike couldn't stop laughing and she got so pissed off that she stomped away and into the Bebop, mumbling to herself. She went straight to Spike's room and borrowed one of his shirts, and as a last thought, threw her wet towel on his bed.

She looked up at Spike with a faint smile. "OK, so that one time."

Spike cocked his head at her. "Want me to name a few other times?"

Faye growled, her annoyance overcoming her embarrassment. Spike threw his hands up and backed away from her in mock fear. He looked so ridiculous that Faye could not help but laugh.

"Spike?" Faye asked.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

"Get the hell out."

Spike gave her a crooked grin and winked before he left the room, closing the door behind him.

Faye stared at the closed door. The evening was wearing on her, and as her adrenalin level dropped back to normal levels, she found that she could barely keep her eyes open. She eyed the bed in contemplation, then pulled the blanket off and wrapped herself in it. She left the room and headed into the living room. Spike was seated at the kitchen table, his gun dismantled as he cleaned it. He looked up as Faye came in before turning back to his task.

Faye walked over to the couch and flopped down, then curled up and went to sleep.

* * *

She woke up suddenly and sat up, looking around her. The room was dark and for a moment she forgot where she was and she could feel panic rise within her. She took a deep breath and looked around the room until she recognized that she was at Spike's. She lay back down and tried to go back to sleep. At every sudden noise, she would jump and open her eyes to look around again. Finally, she sighed and sat up, pulling the blanket closer to her. The quiet and unfamiliar noises were making her jumpy and she knew she would not be able to get back to sleep in the room alone. Spike's room door was closed, so he must have already gone to bed. Faye rubbed her eyes in exhaustion and stood up. She padded down the hall to Spike's room and knocked softly, then opened the door a crack.

He was spread out across the bed, one leg on top of the covers.

"Spike?"

There was no answer from him. Faye tiptoed over to the bed and looked down at him. She touched him tentatively.

* * *

His eyes shot open as he awakened to a light touch on his face, sending a tingling thrill through him knowing that it had to be Faye.

"It's me." her voice drifted to his ears. "I couldn't sleep on your lumpy couch." She pushed at his shoulder. "Move over."

"I have a feeling that sleep is now out of the question," Spike responded sarcastically as he scooted over to make room for her, "especially now that you're here taking up my sleeping space…"

Faye ignored him and slid between the covers into the space he made for her.

He watched her, remembering her scent and how she'd felt in his arms for those fleeting moments. He leaned in to refresh his memory. She shifted, feeling his eyes on her.

"Stop staring at me," she said, pushing his head away, a tremor in her voice belying her harsh words. He caught her hand and pulled her to him, kissing the offending finger.

"It's a pity neither of us can sleep," he said softly.

She looked up and saw the innocent smile contradicting the undisguised hunger in his eyes. Then his lips were on hers, his tongue probing, as he kissed her languidly, aroused by the feeling of her skin against his and the soft moans that she made. He explored the contours of her body, slipping his hand underneath her shirt.

Faye tensed, and looked at him uncertainly. His eyes were closed and his hands did not cease.

"Spike," she said softly, pushing his hand away.

"Huh?" He looked up at her in confusion. He didn't want her to stop him, he was aroused and he wanted her.

Faye took a deep, shaky breath and edged away from him.

You're playing with fire, Faye. You're only going to get burned.

"Faye-Faye?" He said playfully, lifting her chin gently. "Look at me," he commanded.

She raised her head to look at him doubtfully. He leaned down and kissed her softly. She drew in a shaky breath, and looked up at him, reaching up to touch his cheek. He wrapped his hands around her waist and leaned in to kiss her again. She raised her arms to circle his neck, her fingers playing with the curls at the back of his neck. His hands tightened on her waist and he slid them up her sides to her breasts, his thumbs lightly caressing her nipples through the shirt.

Her breath hitched as he leaned down and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking it through the thin shirt. A moan escaped from her lips as she closed her eyes and squirmed against him.

Spike didn't need any further encouragement. He reached for the hem of her shirt and pulled it roughly up over her head, tossing it to the floor before returning to her breasts. He bit down lightly on a nipple and Faye growled, reaching down to push his head away. He chuckled against her skin and soothed his bite with a soft kiss, then drew warm wet circles with his tongue.

Spike slid his hands up her arms in gentle caresses, drawing circles across her palms and entwining her small hands in his. Then he slid down to her wrists, trapping them in his hands as he raised her arms above her head to pin her to the bed.

Faye's eyes flew open.

"That hurts, Spike," she protested as she attempted to pull out of his grip, but his hands tightened around her as he rose up on his knees and looked at her with a malicious grin. He bent down to kiss her neck, oblivious to her wishes.

"Let go of me," she said forcefully and tried twisting away, but he refused to budge. He forced her thighs apart with his leg and dropped down on his elbows, moving his pelvis against her. Faye could felt the heat from his erection, and she realized with horror that he was about to subject her to the very ordeal that he had saved her from.

She closed her eyes.

* * *

The only thing that she became aware of was the sound of flesh hitting flesh and Spike's harsh breathing. She bit her lip and clenched the sheet to keep from crying out. Finally, after a strangled shout, he collapsed onto her and she felt the warm rush of his release.

He withdrew from her and rolled onto his back, trembling and panting for breath. Faye drew shaky breaths as she turned away from him and curled herself into the pillow, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes, tears that refused to fall.

The room was quiet except for Spike's harsh breathing which gradually turned into soft snores as he fell asleep.

* * *

Spike groaned as hunger woke him. He flipped over onto his stomach, stretching out a long arm across the bed. He froze when his hand made contact with something warm and soft. He looked to the right at the small lump under the covers, and his stomach clenched a flashback to the previously evening pounded his memory.

He lay back down, turning his head to watch the sleeping figure next to him. She was turned away from him, her hair spread across the pillow in silky disarray. Careful not to awaken her, he extended his hand to touch her hair softly, feeling the silky strands slip through his fingers. His throat constricted and he blinked against the pain.

Her presence in his room, in his bed reminded him of something that Vicious had said to him once long ago, that he was a beast that had lost his fangs. He had fought that part of himself for so long that he had convinced himself that he had changed. Now he realized that Vicious had been right all along.

Guess my fangs have grown back.

He pulled his hand away and focused on the rise and fall of her shoulders as she slept, before finally dozing off again. A couple of hours later, he woke up again when the hunger pangs reached unbearable proportions. He glanced over to where Faye lay, then quietly sat up and edged his way off the bed, trying not to awaken her. He jumped when, from behind him, she spoke.

"Don't bother. Your stomach already woke me up."

He turned around sharply to see Faye stirring, clutching the bed sheet around her.

"Oh," he mumbled.

He tried not to stare, but her shapely figure was quite visible even covered with the sheet. In past times, early morning was his favorite time for a treat before breakfast, but he supposed that this wouldn't count. He dragged his fingers through his hair as he pulled his eyes away. He started towards the kitchen, then stopped and turned to look at her. She was sitting up and was staring at him with an unreadable expression that made him uncomfortable.

"You hungry?" he asked reluctantly, shifting his gaze to anywhere but her face. He didn't want to see the hurt and accusation in her eyes.

She shook her head and looked down, her hair falling into her face and obscuring her eyes. She fiddled nervously with her hands before getting up, protectively wrapping the sheet around her body.

Spike turned around and continued to the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and looked inside, cursing himself for not buying groceries the day before. He pulled out a carton the leftover containers from their dinner and threw them into the microwave. From behind him he heard Faye as she shuffled into the kitchen. He watched the containers turning in the microwave.

"Spike- "

He reluctantly turned around to face her.

"I want to take a shower," she said, avoiding his eyes. "I need a towel."

"Oh."

He pulled a clean towel from the pantry and gave it to her.

She took it and stood for a moment, twisting the edges of the towel in her hands.

"By the way … "

He looked at her questioningly. She was staring at him again.

"You should change the sheets."

He nodded. She continued down the hall to the bathroom.

Once Spike heard the shower running, he went into the bedroom to strip the bed. As he neared the bed, he saw the damp stain mixed with semen and blood – Faye's blood. Stifling a gag, he dragged the sheets from the mattress, then balled them up and threw them in the corner of the room. He fumbled with the cigarette pack on the nightstand and lit one, wanting to erase his sense of guilt with each inhale.

Even though they both had had quite a lot to drink the night before, his memory of the events were etched quite clearly in his memory. He remembered how fragile her wrists felt when he held her down, the smell of her hair when his chest came into contact with hers, the intensely pleasurable sensation as he pounded away inside her and the utter exhaustion when he finally collapsed on top of her. He never considered that all the while he was hurting her.

* * *

They stood together at the railing overlooking the harbor, neither speaking. In the distance the foghorn of a trawler pierced the ambient sounds of morning traffic over the river and streets of Tharsis. Spike wanted to say something, anything to break the silence, but he could think of nothing to say to her.

"I hate you," she said fiercely, squeezing her eyes closed as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Spike was silent. From the corner of his eye, he watched her look out over the river as she struggled to keep her emotions under control. He didn't know what to say to her. Finally, he reached in his pocket and pulled out a matchbook from the Glowing Sun.

"Faye," he said softly.

She ignored him, staring stonily ahead.

"Faye, if you ever need to reach me ..." he reached over and grabbed her hand, placing the matchbook in her palm.

Her hand closed on the matchbook, and she fingered it in her hand for a moment before stretching out her arm and letting it drop into the river, watching it float away. Spike clenched his jaw, but his body remained motionless, and his heart pounded in pain as Faye looked up into his face, her eyes cold and unforgiving.

"I never want to see you again."

She turned and walked away.

12 December 2009

Too Many Secrets 6/?

Onward

Two entrees and one empty whiskey bottle later, they both ended up crashing on the sofa, Faye on one end, her hands across her eyes to block out the light, and Spike at the other with his arm hanging off the sofa onto the floor.

The space was pretty tight for two, and Faye tried shifting into a more comfortable position, shoving her legs into Spike's torso. He grunted in pain and grabbed hold of her foot, pushing it back towards her.

"Stop, Spike, my legs are cramped," she grumbled, trying unsuccessfully to wriggle out of his grasp. He refused to let go, smirking as he wagged his index finger dramatically towards her foot.

"Don't you dare," she warned.

He laughed at her before letting go.

This camaraderie, without disagreement or arguments between them was rare, but Faye had not spent all of those months searching for him, just to cuddle on the sofa. After all, her visit did have a purpose; she wanted an explanation for why he had been incognito for so long.

Jet had told her once that both she and Spike were the types who used sheer force or violence to try to get what they wanted, when sometimes a gentler approach garnered better results. Jet must have been right about her, because this cautious approach was not working with the lunkhead, who was either too dense or too drunk to grasp what she wanted. But more than likely, he knew only too well, and was trying to steer her away deliberately.

She shifted again.

"Spike, when you left …"

He cringed when he saw that she was preparing to grill him.

"I really don't want to talk about this, Faye."

"You never want to talk about anything serious," she snapped. "Well, guess what? You owe us some answers. Why the hell couldn't you let us know you were alive?"

"First off, "he said icily, "I don't owe you or Jet a damned thing."

Faye felt her temperature rise and she unsuccessfully attempted to control herself before she lost it and slammed her foot into his chest. Spike's body stiffened and his jaw tightened. He sat up abruptly, bringing his feet to the floor, eyeing her with barely controlled rage. Faye eyed him warily, aware that he could kill her where she sat. She sat up and scooted further away.

"Second," he continued, "It was better if I didn't come back."

"Better for whom? You, so that you wouldn't have to fill us in on your 'secret' life?"

Spike's eyebrow twitched. "No." he answered in the same tone. "Better, to keep you and Jet from being gunned down because of me."

As she searched his face, she knew that he was being truthful.

"I guess it doesn't really matter," she said wearily. She leaned back against the sofa, and from the corner of her eye she caught him staring. She pressed her fingers against her eyelids to quiet an impending headache. The alcohol was starting to wear off, affecting her patience, and for once she thought it best not to say anything else that would ignite his anger.

Faye turned her attention to the sounds of street traffic filtering in through the open window, and she wondered how anyone could live in such a noisy place. She figured that it didn't matter much to Spike; he could fall sleep anywhere and anytime regardless of what was going on.

"When I woke up, I was in a hospital."

Faye opened her eyes and turned to look at him. He was staring straight ahead, his hands clenched into fists on his lap. She remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"They told me that I had been unconscious for almost three months. My … injuries were so severe that they didn't know if I was going to make it."

He finally looked over to meet her eyes. "After I was released, I wandered back to my old haunting grounds, trying to find out what had happened with the Dragons."

He leaned forward and picked up the cigarettes from the coffee table. He lit one up and blew the smoke in Faye's direction. When the aroma reached her, she breathed in deeply, too proud to snatch up the pack as she would have done in the past. He was in a mood to talk, and she didn't want to be the one to spoil the mood. She was surprised when Spike held out the pack to her, but she nodded her thanks and took one. He flicked the lighter and lit her cigarette, then sat back and clasped his hands behind his head, stretching his long legs across the coffee table.

They smoked in silence for a while. Faye watched him surreptitiously; his eyes were half-closed and he looked completely relaxed, as if he was about to nod off. She breathed in sharply, and then exhaled in a silent huff as she struggled to tone down her impatience. Instead, she watched the cigarette he held between his slender fingers as it burned, the ember moving closer to his fingers. If he really was asleep, he'd wake up as soon as he felt the burn of the ash.

Without cracking an eyelid, Spike leaned a long arm towards the coffee table to flick the ash. Faye narrowed her eyes. He was trying to get out of telling the story, but she was determined to make him continue.

"So, what happened?" she asked, her patience dwindling.

He cracked open one eye to look at her. "Just hold on, Faye. Whose story is this, anyway?"

She bit back a response until she noticed the quirk at the corner of his mouth.

"Don't make fun of me," she growled. "I really do want to know."

He raised an eyebrow as he regarded her, the smirk morphing into a full blown smile.

She glared at him. "Come on, spit it out."

His smile faltered and he looked away from her to stare up at the ceiling.

"I found out that I had succeeded in wiping out the Dragons," he said as he stared up at the ceiling. "So there I was, finally free after all those years, and what do I do? Find another syndicate to work for. But this time, it was on my terms."

"If you were free, why did you go back?" Faye asked curiously. "You had the chance to do anything, go anywhere you wanted, and you went back? Why?"

"It's the only thing I know," he said simply.

"You could have come back, picked up where you left off with me … and Jet."

"Yeah, I could have. But I didn't want to go back to that life."

He leaned forward to crush the cigarette in the ashtray, then picked up the pack and lit another, looking at her intently. With a mouth full of smoke, he continued, "Besides, I got tired of not having meat in my diet. Or cigarettes in my pocket." He exhaled and leaned back against the sofa.

Faye scowled at him and looked away. She wanted to ask him if he missed the companionship that they'd had as shipmates and bounty hunters. And he still hadn't told her what it was that he did for a living. But she was starting to get a pretty good idea.

"So, I guess your new occupation is quite lucrative," she mumbled.

"Yeah, you could say that."

Her green eyes glittered in annoyance as she poked him. "Spike, just tell me what it is you do."

Spike cocked his head to the side as he shot her a wide-eyed, innocent look. "Let's just say that the world is a little safer with my help."

It occurred to her that he had told her more than he'd ever willingly shared in the past. She knew that she wouldn't get any more out of him.

"Will you ever come back?"

Spike was silent.

"Spike?"

"No."

"Not even …"

"What?"

She turned to stare out of the window.

He sighed and watched her. "Faye."

She didn't answer. He reached over and grasped her chin, turning her face towards him. Her stomach fluttered at the touch of his fingers. She couldn't remember him ever touching her before, at least not this gentle, like he cared. She forced herself to breathe calmly as she reluctantly looked up at him.

"Would you -" he began, then seemed to think better of it and released her.

She gazed at him questioningly, her hand absently tracing the spot where his fingers had been.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

She hated when he did that – clamming up again, his eyes hooded with hidden secrets, like shutters closing on a window. It was like watching a walking dead man, turning to ghost ashes before her eyes.

"Don't do that," she said, jabbing her finger into his chest so hard that he cringed. "You always used to do that on the ship, Spike," she pointed upwards towards space, "and every time I let you get away with it, but not this time. So, tell me what it is that you want to know?"

He studied her for a moment. "I don't know," he said finally.

She stared at him, her small mouth turned down in disapproval. She got up and paced around the room, then stopped at the coffee table and grabbed his pack of cigarettes, jamming one in her mouth. "You're just nothing but trouble," she mumbled and the cigarette moved up and down with her words.

"Those are mine," he said calmly, watching her.

Faye huffed in frustration. She took a long drag before turning back to him.

"I guess you're waiting for me to speak first, huh? What, do you want to know why I spent so much time looking for you when it was obvious that you were either six feet under or avoiding us?"

She started pacing the room again, smoking furiously.

"I didn't say-"

"We were comrades, you know," she interrupted him. "Even if you didn't feel it, I did. I finally found a place where I belonged, with you and Jet and Edward. Even the damned dog." She stopped pacing and looked back at him. "Don't tell me you never felt it."

Spike sighed. "Okay, so I did, you satisfied?"

Faye threw her hands in the air. "There! Was that so fucking hard to say?" She returned to the sofa and flopped down next to him. "Spike, you're a real piece of work."

"So I've been told."

She turned towards him, ready to give him another lecture about friends, but stopped when she looked at him. Who cares what an idiot he still is, she thought. At least he's alive.

"I'm tired of arguing," she told him. "Let's just watch a movie or something."

She leaned across the table to flick on the vidscreen, switching the channels until she found an old crime movie that she remembered watching with Jet. "Hey, this one's pretty good." She settled back against the couch, curling her legs under her and not caring whether or not Spike was comfortable. She was done with him for now.

* * *

Spike was amazed at how easily Faye could switch from slightly pissed to raving mad to nonchalance in the blink of an eye. He thought he was the only one that could pull that off. But then she started going on about how comrades were supposed to work together and check in with each other, watch each other's back, yadda yadda. She talks too damned much. He started tuning her out although his eyes followed her around the room as she ranted. He didn't know what had come over him when he had held her face in his hands. He had never been that close long enough to notice the porcelain smoothness of her skin, or to notice that there were flecks of hazel in her green eyes.

He turned his attention back to the present and the movie playing on the screen. He remembered seeing this back on the Bebop. Faye and Jet loved this movie, but he didn't understand what was so fascinating. The life depicted was a picnic compared to the reality of life with the Dragons. He sat back, trying to maintain interest, but after a while his eyes glazed over, and not too long afterwards, he was dead to the world.

* * *

Faye watched Spike's eyes close as he nodded off, just as she had predicted he would. He'd never been able to stay awake on a full stomach, especially when combined with liquor.

She turned back to the fight scene playing over the vid screen. This used to be one of her favorite films, but ever since he had encountered the real deal at the opera house with Vicious, scenes like the one on the screen looked stage and stale. She switched off the power and looked over at Spike, whose legs were now splayed across the coffee table, his head flung back against the back of the sofa and his mouth slightly ajar. At any moment now the snoring would begin; she grinned when sure enough, the first gurgle emitted from his throat. She studied his face, noticing things that hadn't been there a year ago -- the lines around his mouth, a small scar that cut across his right brow. She tapped her foot impatiently; she would not allow herself to get sucked into feeling for him again.

Enough of this, Faye, she admonished herself. She was restless; maybe she could find a card game to push her way into. She had spied a numbers joint on the walk over the apartment earlier. She looked around for her red sweater, spotting it crushed between Spike and the sofa cushion. Holding her breath, she gently pulled it free, being careful not to wake the baby. As she draped it over her shoulders, she contemplated borrowing Spike's keys. Nah, He'll just have to let me back in, she thought. She spied Spike's money card next to his keys. Grinning, she picked it up and slipped it into her pocket as she tiptoed to the door. She let herself out, quietly closing the door behind her.
* * *