One More Time (Page 4)

"You sure you're okay?"

"Will you stop worrying, dad? You hooked him up to the computer, remember, so if it's watching his vitals I should know if things start going south. We'll be fine, so just go." A pause. The slightly distant sound of a door shutting. A small sigh. "I guess it's just you and me now, huh, Spike? The gaujo and the romani back together again." Pause. "I don't know why you get to me, but you do. No matter how high I've put the walls up, somehow you're the one person who manages to break'em down without even trying. Funny, isn't it, since you're probably the king of building up barriers yourself. Always shutting everyone else out of what's really going on. I don't know if you can hear me, Spike, but I want, no, I need to tell you something." Pause. "I need you to know that I…that I…" A small chuckle. "Look at me, you're lying there unconscious and I still don't have any guts. I guess what I mean is that we need you back here, we need you to wake up."

I don't want to go back. To wake up is to think is to feel is to hurt. I've hurt enough for two lifetimes and caused enough hurt for three. No one "needs" me back there. She's just saying that. They don't need me, and why would they want me? A stubborn, cocky trouble-maker, just what every captain wants on their ship. Just what every woman wants to come home to.

A sudden, sharp jab through his heart at that thought. I guess that won't be a problem for me anymore, will it? The woman I loved is dead. She's dead. No reprieve, no second chances. He had known she was gone, of course. After all, he had seen her die. He had held her in his arms to the very last. But with everything that had happened, the pure overload of adrenaline, revenge, and blood, he hadn't really felt that she was gone.

Until now.

That strange beeping sound was different now, irregular, speeding up and slowing down in spurts.

"Um, Jet, I think maybe you should get in here."

Julia…Julia's gone. A knife was twisting in his stomach, with pain far worse than that caused by Vicious' katana. What's left? My goal, my point, my purpose in living is gone, and with her my last hope for the future.

"Jet? I'm not kidding, I think something's wrong."

Why bother? Why should I care? Here I am, back on the same ship on the same couch I've been wasting my life away on for the last three years. All those days and months looking, all those trails that never led anywhere but somehow kept me hopeful. All of that is gone. And what am I left with? A dead woman and a rundown fishing ship that smells of bell peppers.

"Jet! Get your slow butt in here now!"

"What's wrong?"

"Took you long enough—look at the computer. What's going on, Jet? Why is it doing that? The doctor said he was doing good, he said he had stabilized. You said the doctor said that, Jet. Were you just lying to make me feel better or—?"

"Calm down, Faye! Get on the phone with the doc, let him know Spike's vitals are going all over the place. If you can't remember the details, I can read them off to you once you get him online. If the doc says he needs to physically come here to help, promise him whatever cash he wants to get him here."

"Jet, you really—?"

"Just get on that phone, Faye!"

"R-right!"

"Hang on, Spike. We'll get you the help you need. You just gotta hang on for a few more minutes and everything will be—"

That's just it, Jet. I don't want to hang on. I just want to slip away.

"—what's taking you so long, Faye? I don't think we have much time!"

"He's coming, Jet, he said he'll be here in five minutes."

"I hope that's soon enough. Can you hear me, Spike? Just listen to the sound of my voice. Focus on that, okay?"

Just slip away…

* * *

He was in a bar. No, not just a bar, a pool hall. Smoke-filled and dingy. A great place to hang out without really being seen by people. He knew this place. No, not just a place. A memory. It was when he first saw—

There she was, standing with her back to him, in that shiny leather catsuit which only a few women would try to wear and even fewer would be able to pull off. She looked amazing. His eyes traveled up to where the leather seemed to meld with her shiny black hair—

Black?

Yeah, it was black, all right. Not even a hint of blonde but really dark black, so dark that it seemed to have purpleish highlights through it. Some small part of him protested to the change, but who cared? Even if it was different, it looked really good on her. He was still standing there, open-mouthed, when she started to turn. She was… different. Still beautiful, of course, nothing could ever change that, but she just seemed altered somehow. Her face was slightly shorter, not nearly so long, and her eyes were a glowing emerald green.

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