Seeing Double / Working To Exhaustion / You Look Awful (sometimes I Get So Tired, I Dont Even Know Myself)

seeing double / working to exhaustion / you look awful (sometimes I get so tired, I don’t even know myself)

Jet blinked and peered blearily at the screen that was dancing in front of his eyes. It was difficult to make out the text or the image simply because he was seeing double. He was exhausted, no, he was well beyond exhausted.

But he couldn't go home to sleep.

Home was empty.

Reminders of the life he'd once shared with Alisa surrounded him there. Memories they'd made in the tiny apartment by the sea. Hell, the place still smelled like her favorite perfume and the kitchen had a zing of the spice he'd put on the last dinner that he'd made for her before she up and disappeared.

Well, that wasn't precisely true. She hadn't vanished... she'd left.

And despite his connections, despite his sleuthing skills, he refused to track her down. What good would it do to hound her? If you love something, you have to let it go, right? It'll come back on its own if it wants to. Stalking someone you proclaim affection for... that would be the antithesis of love.

Besides, he'd made a deal with himself. Had left a window of opportunity wide open for her to return. The pocket watch ticking away in his pocket was the reassuring reminder of that.

Tick, tick, tick...

He jerked abruptly as his chin hit his chest. Working himself to exhaustion wasn't exactly the best course of action in the aftermath of a breakup but at least it gave him something to focus on. Maybe he'd been too focused on the job to begin with? Was that why she left? A moot point now if so... besides, he was getting so close with this case. Corner a few more rats, hear a few more confessions, and he thought he might just have the answer he was looking for.

Europa had a huge problem with syndicates. It was the type of problem that bled over into nearby moons and sure enough it had begun to rear its diabolical head here on Ganymede in the past few years. Of course it had, the moons were all in varying states of depression or recession or population loss in the wake of the Titan War. And still there were murmurings that another war seemed inevitable.

He idly wondered if Ganymede might be smart enough to stay out of it this time. Was there even a choice?

He was just a cop, though. If the military wanted to go cause a ruckus elsewhere in the galaxy... well, good for them. Or, fuck 'em. It didn't matter a whit to Jet.

If the war was brought here to his doorstep, that was another story. So the potential war? Not his concern. The strengthening syndicate presence here on Ganymede took priority. There'd been an influx of drugs and criminals. Suddenly people were getting nervous about being out at night. There were neighborhoods that were no longer full of happy families but instead were full of abandoned houses and illegal activities.

Investigating one of the docks was actually the goal for the evening. Even if nothing panned out from this, it felt good to have a purpose.

A Styrofoam cup bearing steaming coffee was sat down on his desk, a few drops sloshing over onto Fad's hand before he could pull it away quick enough. The other man hissed in pain and shook out the hand, shaking off the scalding drops. Jet's eyes traveled over his partner and he wondered briefly if he looked as bad. They'd been pulling such long hours lately...

"Thanks. You look awful," he said gruffly to his partner.

Fad looked down at him with tired eyes but Jet wasn't sure if the other man even saw him. He had that look, what was it called? A thousand yard stare?

"Sometimes... I get so tired... I don't even know myself." Fad muttered, half to himself. He blew out a deep breath and rolled his neck before taking a sip of his own hot coffee and hissing again at the temperature as it hit his tongue. He gave Jet a rueful grin. "You might've thanked me too soon for the coffee, Jet. It wasn't the dregs this time, but piss water might be better tasting."

Jet huffed a short laugh. "If it keeps us upright and moving forward... well, then it's doing its job."

Fad closed his eyes for a moment and nodded sharply as if to wake himself up. "Speaking of that. You ready?"

Climbing to his feet, Jet nodded. "Crime waits for no one. Let's hit it." Grabbing the cup, accidentally splashing some of the dark liquid onto his left hand as he used his right to grab his gun holster out of the drawer it was in, he winced at the heat. 'Tis but a scratch! He thought to himself absently, a bit of dark humor at the unexpected yet insignificant pain. The Black Knight was one of his favorite parts of that old Earth sketch comedy. Something about the way the man never wavered in his pursuit of ...well, guarding a bridge for no discernable reason like a madman, but moreover his determination, how he never gave up... it really spoke to Jet. The man was like him. After all, when the Black Dog bites, he never lets go.

He finished his coffee as he followed Fad out the door.

storm / buried alive / they're not breathing! (you’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave)

Panic choked him as he reached the spot where the snow had finally stopped moving. There was no sign of Faye. But he'd gone over the safety guidelines of skiing with her over and over again, including the section on what to do if you get caught up in an avalanche, so he trusted that she'd tried to swim to the edge as the snow carried her with it downhill. He'd been so close... he had seen that there were no trees or rocks for her to attempt to cling onto to avoid being buried alive... but on the other hand, that meant there hadn't been immovable objects for her to slam into while the momentum of the snow swept her along.

Her scream echoed in his ears and he chastened himself repeatedly as he dug into the settling snow. He'd lost his glove at some point but it didn't matter in the least. He'd give up his good arm just to save her if that's what it took. He couldn't even feel the cold anymore as his body began to burn from the exertion of trying to sift through the endless white in search of the bright magenta of her space suit, or the dark splash of her purplish hair. No doubt the cap she'd filched from the ski lodge gift shop was long gone in the tumble she'd just undergone.

What felt like hours later, he swiped against something that didn't feel like snow. Hope surged in his chest and nearly blinded him from being able to see that he had indeed uncovered a portion of one of her boots, thankfully still attached snugly to her shapely leg. Acting fast, he gently but relentlessly scooped handful after handful of snow away from her body until enough of her was revealed that he felt comfortable trying to pull her loose of her icy prison.

Fuck, he'd never hear the end of it after this. He knew how much she hated cold. Knew how depressing she found Callisto to be. Yet she'd been willing to entertain him when he had the wild idea of encouraging her to embrace both things. He'd foolishly thought that if he could give her some good memories, take her on an adventure that would let them cozy up in front of a fireplace while watching a snowstorm rage outside of floor-to-ceiling windows in their own private lodge... the plan had merit, but it had backfired in the worst way with this unforeseen event.

His excitement over discovering her was washed away abruptly as he realized she wasn't breathing.

No.

NO.

Before desolation could set in, before he'd dare give up on her, his body automatically began to go through the motions of CPR. It had been ages since he'd had to put the life saving skills of an ISSP officer to use, but he moved instinctively now as if he was back in the training room and earning top marks from the med tech in charge of educating them. This was so much more important than a passing grade. This was Faye - the woman who'd weaseled aboard his ship and weaseled her way into his heart. She'd been through so much... but she was a fighter! She'd fought to survive for years, fought to prove she cared about him for months in the wake of Spike's death, fought against her own uncertainties and fears to join him here for a vacation that should have let them relax and just be together.

"Dammit, Faye!" He shouted. Shouting at her, at the cloudy heavens above. "You're not delivering a perfect body to the grave! You're supposed to grow old with me! Don't you dare give up now! BREATHE, dammit!"

Snowflakes began making their peaceful way down to the moon's frozen surface. Aside from the thump of his fists against her chest, there was no sound. Her lips underneath his were icy and nonresponsive. That wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She was always lighting him on fire. Always kissing him with such burning passion that he couldn't ignore or disbelieve her when she vowed to love him, when she promised to stay.

"You promised, Faye!" He sobbed. "You promised me you'd stay..."

And then, just when he'd sat back on his heels... ready to give up after no doubt breaking a rib or two of hers in the painful process of trying to restart her heart...

A weak cough. A ragged inhale. The softest moan he'd ever heard from her - her sounds in the bedroom were never quiet, after all - and suddenly she was tiredly blinking her eyes open. Wetness trailed from those gorgeous green irises as she tried to shift to look over at him but he couldn't let her move - he had to wrap her tenderly in his arms, crushing her to himself as he bowed his head over her shoulder and buried his face in the snow-damp tendrils of her beautiful hair.

"Hey... easy... there... cowboy," She murmured. "I... may not... be made... of glass... but I feel... fucking shattered."

"Don't you ever scare me like that again!" He ordered, easing his hug up just a touch. Belatedly, he thought to worry about other injuries she might have sustained in the descent. "Are you okay? No broken bones? Your skis are long gone I'm afraid. Hat too, love."

"Uhhh... I think... everything seems... intact. Fuck those... skis anyway... will you... carry me back? I... wanna just... curl up with you... watch this snow..." She chuckled, a sound threaded through with pain. "It looks... like it might... storm soon. Let's... get someplace warm. Wait... it out... together."

He inhaled sharply. "I don't know how you read my mind so well."

Another half-laugh, half-groan. "Same way... I fleeced you... all those years ago. You're just... an easy mark."

"Spike told me about your little dice trick." Jet told her then, carefully moving to stand with her in a bridal carry in his arms. The good one ached from the shoveling he'd done, but the metal one was solid underneath her fine form. He was grateful for that - a bit of insurance to see to it he was able to bring her somewhere safe.

"That... jerk.  Giving away... all my secrets!" She huffed. Her eyes glittered at him with amusement and adoration. "Rematch, love? No tricks... this time..." Her smile was devious despite her assurance.

"Okay, Faye. But when I win... don't think I'll be renting your clothes back to you. And... maybe I'll run around the ship naked with ya."

bloody knife / sacrifice / you'll have to go through me (we might not make it to the morning, so go on and tell me now)

TW: physical abuse, mention of/suggestion of/implication of rape

Part two of three (first part prompt 6, third part prompt 30)

guest appearances from a few recognizable folks if you're familiar with Always Sunny in Philadelphia…

"Dammit, Froggy! This situation is intolerable! How do you expect me to conduct my business in a place like this?"

"You brought a fox home last night, didn't you?"

"Well, yes, but that's beside the point! Bird came up from behind and knocked the bitch out. I didn't even have a chance to pitch my woo." A frustrated sigh. "Listen, asshole, I know you've got condos and resorts out the wazoo, c'mon man! Lemme get the keys to any of them! I can't stand being here on this reeking wreckage!"

"Huh. I guess I could run it by the Warthog…"

A strained noise from other man. "Froggy. You. Are. The. Warthog."

"Oh! Well that makes this much easier, Lefevre. No. This yacht is top of the line! Queen of the sea!"

Another desperately aggravated sound barely contained. "This is a goddamn garbage scow, you absolute fool! I can't - I can't deal with this right now. I gotta go blow off some steam."

A lecherous chuckle from Froggy. "Gonna get blown you mean!" He cackled while the other man growled.

"Must you be so crass?"

"Me? Crass? You're the sociopath kidnapping women and locking them in an escape room with no actual escape."

"I don't! Grrr, I don't kidnap anyone! They choose to follow me aboard despite the implication."

"Uh huh. What about this one then? Didn't seem in much of a state to choose being here when Ronnie the Rat hauled her in for you."

"I told you! This one wasn't my fault! Snail was distracting me from my mission with her gross attempts at groping me under the table. It was Bird who went rogue and bashed the lady!"

"Yeah Froggy, Brian has a whole system, Bird messed this up." A third voice suddenly spoke up.

"Shaddup, Rat. Get back on deck with Cricket and Dirtgrub. We've got places to be and goods to unload. Or blow a load on, amiright Lefevre?!"

The acoustics on this vessel were atrocious. Spike had thought he was nearly to the men long before the conversation reached this point. His blood was very nearly boiling. There had been other obstacles in his path to this inner chamber of the surprisingly grandiose garbage scow. He'd already taken out a man more trash than human who had been on steroids and spray paint judging by the silvery smear around his mouth and nose. Then right after that there had been a jittery mad-eyed freak dressed like a man of the cloth but scratching at his limbs too aggressively to be following any faith but drugs. And the Bird character, wasted on what looked like meth, had been no challenge at all though he wished he could go back and rough her up more now that he knew her role in Faye's abduction.

At least three more opponents in the room up ahead. The echoing of their voices down the hallway made it difficult to ascertain exactly where each threat was but that had never stopped him before. He was slightly winded from the brutal attack by the first man - in the flurry of activity the other man had managed to land several blows with the nail embedded baseball bat he wielded.

Everything seemed to happen simultaneously when he kicked down the door and burst unannounced into the room. The ship shuddered to an abrupt halt - thanks no doubt to the time he'd taken to reprogram the course to ram into the nearest docks of Tharsis - and a gunshot went off that took his breath away.

How the fuck had one of those creeps gotten the drop on him?!

A muscular man began doing bizarre martial arts on him, producing sound effects of his own accord. Bizarre moves, but most were targeting the spot just below his rib cage where the bullet had struck.

"Damn, Froggy! You really are quick on the draw!" The Lefevre man exclaimed incredulously.

Froggy, a short squat man with thinning but wild hair, shrugged.

"My gun is always in my hand." He shook himself and suddenly seemed to take charge of the situation. "Rat, throw him in with the girl. Lefevre, clear out the safe. Wherever we just ran around… it ain't the shoreline under the bridge. We gotta make tracks before the cops get here!"

"I wasn't done with her yet!" Lefevre whined.

"You'll have to go through me to finish with her!" Spike shouted. Anything else he'd wanted to say or threaten was cut off by Ronnie the Rat putting him in a strangehold.

"You know what? I bet we could sink this. Drown the evidence, so to speak. Yeahhh I like this plan! Lefevre, forget the damn girl! Cash and bash! We gotta stick some holes in the hull to send this beaut down under. Rat, what're you doing playing around over there? Stop flirting with the man and knock him out!" Froggy sighed. "Do I gotta do everything myself? You kids are useless without me."

Spike had almost broken free of the absurdly strong chokehold when Froggy approached him with a manic grin and pulled a small pistol out of his pocket - not the same gun he'd already shot, which was still present in his other hand - and sprayed a spritz of liquid in Spike's face that had blackness overtaking him instantly.

XXX

Hearing returned before vision so Spike was treated to the sound of Lefevre from the video that had been playing on the Bebop. It was no less infuriating to hear.

"My minions make a sacrifice of themselves unto me for I am a Golden God and I alone am deserving of their tender touch, their devout praise, and the glory of bringing their souls to the surface to rise and give me the power of their essence!"

A soft whimper had him struggling to come back to his senses. There was nothing restraining him which would undoubtedly prove to have been a mistake for the gang that had captured Faye. A loose Spike was the kind of loose end that would most certainly wind up killing someone - or in this case, several someones.

"Faye?" He spoke, rubbing his eyes as his sight came back blearily.

A sniffle and then a tremulous voice replied. "Spike?"

"You... uh... okay?" A pointless question. He'd seen the video - which had not featured LeFevre except as a voice over. He knew the condition Faye had to be in.

"Mm... not good... Hurt." Her voice was so quiet it was a struggle to catch all her words. "You came for me."

Well, he supposed if he got to ask a pointless question, she got to make a pointless statement.

" 'Course I did. Took a minute for Jet to figure out where you were. That guy... Froggy? Warthog? Whatever his name is... he's tied up in countless businesses. Got more offshore accounts than even the syndicate in its heyday. Tracking down all the places he owns was a bitch too." He managed to get to his feet and made his way over to the cot where she was still tied down. The fact that she hadn't bothered to undo the knots restraining her wrists was worrisome. Then again, she was a terribly vantage point for freeing herself. There was a bloody knife on the floor by her feet and cuts all around her ankles and heels.

"Can you... break that TV maybe? I can't stand hearing his smarmy voice anymore. I don't want to see myself like that." There were tears in her eyes but her face was dry. She seemed more angry that sad which was a good thing. He needed her mad - she was far stronger when buoyed by that emotion.

"With pleasure," he assured her, proceeding to do just as she asked. Destroying things was his bread and butter.

"I fucked up. Couldn't get the knife to cut myself free. Haven't had a chance to see if there's any way out of here. He said it was an escape room... assured me there was at least one way out... and then put the knife by my feet." She was shivering by the time he turned back from kicking the TV into pieces to undo the knots and set her free. Her pale skin was a mess of bruises and abrasions and her outfit was gone entirely. He helped her sit up and then, easing onto the mattress beside her, carefully eased her into his trench coat.

"We'll figure something out." He promised. "They were gonna sink the boat but it's already at the docks so it can't be too deep here."

"I'm so tired." She murmured then, leaning against him. "He gave me something... riderall? And it kept me awake while he was... abusing me."

Spike hated to ask but had to know... "Faye, did he... were you..."

She laughed weakly. "I know what it looks like. But... for all his posturing and boasting... I've never seen someone struggle so much to get hard. I shouldn't have made fun of him for it but I wanted to make him hurt for how he was hurting me. I didn't know if I was gonna die here or what. I couldn't just let him win."

"You're one tough cookie, Faye."

"I still can't feel my hands," she admitted. "Circulation wasn't cut off to my feet but... well I think I nicked them pretty bad trying to get the knife in a useful position. I dunno if I can walk out of here very well."

"It's okay. I can carry you." He noticed there was water beginning to seep in under the door and realized there was at least a little space between the doorframe and the door itself. Maybe he could use the knife to wedge it open somehow if he couldn't just use bodily force to gain access to the hallway outside.

"I'm sorry you're stuck here too... but... I'm glad you came for me. Spike, I..." She paused and looked down at her lap. "There's something I wanna tell you, when we get back to the ship."

He eyed the rising water level with some concern. "The future's pretty uncertain, Faye. We might not make it to the morning, so go on and tell me now." He had to keep her talking, keep her conscious. He knew she had some head injuries, from watching that video, so he didn't want to risk her falling asleep with a concussion. "You just say whatever you gotta say, I'm gonna try to figure out an exit, okay?"

She sighed as he helped her lay back down and moved to inspect the door, feeling his way along the frame with his fingertips.

"I've been trying... so hard... to stop feeling like I do. After Callisto, when I realized you had someone out there to love already... and... I'm sorry, I'm so sorry... that she's gone now. But I know love just doesn't stop. I can't imagine what'd I'd do without you in my life... watching you walk out to face your fate... it nearly broke me. But then you came back! And... I know you can't reciprocate what I feel. It's okay, truly. I just... I need you in my life, in whatever capacity. I've made due with what we have and that'll be fine going forward too. Just if... if we're trapped here and gonna die... I just wanted you to know, for sure... that... I love you."

His heart was pounding at her words, at her misunderstanding of key things, at the faltering admission she made while he devoted most of his attention to the imperative mission of busting down the door so they could survive. This was the kind of confession that deserved his entire attention. The kind of confession that required her to be in better shape so he could lavish her with kisses as he corrected her on her inaccurate assumption of his affection.

"I'm not gonna be fine with that going forward." He told her as he took the knife and got to work at the door. "I'm gonna need more from you, actually." He went on before she could think he was unhappy with her. "I didn't come back to the ship just to hang out as your friend all day. I've got some more... intimate... ideas of how we could spend our time together, to be honest."

"Wha-"

"Got it!" Spike crowed jubilantly as the door swung open. "Man, that was more of a piece of cake than I expected after hearing you describe this as an escape room."

He turned around, triumphant, as Faye stared in dismay at the water slogging in around his ankles.

"Never mind all that. I said the ship was sinking, didn't I? Now, c'mere, we gotta try and get out so you can tell me more about this love you feel that you don't think I return. You're wrong about that, by the way, I definitely do care for you quite a bit." He scooped her up into his arms with a groan. "Don't think... you weigh too much... I just got a bit battered myself, coming to get you."

"Oh Spike..." She wrapped her arms around his neck and clung close. "You get us out of this situation and I'll do more than tell you about love. I'll use my lips and mouth and hands to paint a picture on your body that shows you what I mean."

He groaned again. "Okay, this kind of talk isn't helping as much as I'd hoped. Uhhh... tell me about something else. Nothing provocative. Like... uhh... what's your favorite meal?"

It was her turn to groan. "Why'd you have to mention food? I'm fucking starving, Spike..."

December 3rd, 2064

City of Marvis, Ganymede

He woke in a cold sweat, sitting upright in bed and nearly toppling out as he forgot to account for the absence of limb on his left side. The ache in his shoulder socket gave a phantom impression of the arm still attached, but a phantom impression could not steady a reeling man.

A sense of resolve settled over him as he climbed out of bed and locked the artificial arm into place. There was no need to remove it at night, but then again there had been no need to acquire it in the first place. The insurance policy through the ISSP would have covered cellular regeneration, but he hadn't wanted the easy way out. He had wanted something that would cause him trouble. Something that would take work to figure out. Something that would remind him not to rush into situations blindly.

It was part of the reason he hadn't yet left Ganymede though his watch had stopped months ago. He needed to be sure he was going in the right direction when he left. He had promised himself that he would leave if Alisa hadn't returned by the time the clock stopped. He still intended to keep that promise to himself, but he had to be sure he was not making any mistakes.

The fragments of his dream that had not yet faded made him grimace. The brightness dissolving his ability to see. The sharp report of the gun firing at him. The impact that had twisted him around and sent him sprawling on the unforgiving ground. Udai's laughter fading away. The echo of footsteps growing louder as someone drew near. A familiar voice swearing and calling for an ambulance.

He couldn't let himself be taken by surprise again. He had to plan out his next move carefully.

But, on the other hand, words from his grandmother had not left his mind in days. 'Sometimes you have to take a leap. You might not even be able to see where your feet will fall... You might not land well at all. But the alternative, to stay put? Sometimes that's worse than not knowing what's next.' She had been telling him about her decision to leave Earth and start anew on Ganymede of all places. Plenty of colonies closer and better established, but she had picked here.

Today was his birthday and he was feeling particularly torn. There had been no birthday wishes from his family since none of them were still alive. There had not even been a message from Fad, his former partner, or anyone else at the ISSP.

To be fair, it wasn't like Fad to call and say happy birthday. Neither of them had acknowledged birthdays much in their years together on the force. Nor had birthdays been a big deal in the ISSP in general. It wasn't like some cushy office job where everything was put on pause while everyone gathered to sing and share cake.

Thank goodness for that. Jet had never liked having a fuss made for any reason. Birthdays were especially embarrassing somehow.

But still, it was somewhat odd to know that no one knew or cared about the significance of today for him. Well, Alisa had known of course but it had been years since she was in his life.

For all intents and purposes, he was a lone wolf these days. Newly freed from his allegiance to the ISSP - they'd had him pushing papers since the incident, leery of setting him loose back on the streets, and not only had it chafed terribly but it had also afforded him a chance to see behind the scenes at just how incompetently organized the system was. And how shady it all was as well.

There was still a bad taste in his mouth about all he'd discovered recently. To think there was hardly a police chief out there not on the take. That there were so many officers intentionally turning a blind eye to the illegal or immoral shenanigans that were apparently the bread and butter of the entire force. Injustice was rampant and, though he'd somehow missed it while doing his part to actually clean up the streets, it was painfully obvious when he had the paperwork in front of him that proclaimed the truth.

Hence the lack of guilt he felt now about his goal for today.

There was a police auction happening at the impound lot of his former precinct. He was no longer a cop but he still held sway and was planning on playing on the emotions of whoever was in charge. Most of his fellow officers did not like to look directly at him these days and he knew the arm was the reason why. No one liked remembering that their lives were technically in danger anytime they set out on a mission. No one liked to see the evidence of one of their own having had his ass handed to him in the worst way.

That and people would rather give him things just to keep him quiet and send him on his way. It had been the way things went for the entirety of his time back on the force after the incident - and subsequent months of mandatory rehabilitation. People didn't mind having him around but they didn't want to have to see him directly or deal with him for long.

So be it. He would use their insecurity and ill ease to get himself set up for the next chapter in his life, whatever it might be.

Perhaps someone recently incarcerated had had a fancy zip craft - some flashy custom job with ridiculous engines and unnecessary embellishments. Maybe there was a property on one of the other moons that had been owned by some suit before getting cuffed on the street. Police auctions had long been a favored way the ISSP made a little extra money on the side - by selling off all the belongings and properties of whoever had the misfortune of getting imprisoned.

Well, today Jet was going to see what Lady Fate had in store for his future. He was going to show up at the lot and make people uncomfortable and bid on whatever caught his eye. It was his birthday and Alisa's watch had long stopped and it was time he was on his way.

He'd be thirty next year. A milestone birthday. Where he'd be to celebrate and who might be with him were complete unknowns. The only thing he was sure of...was that he wouldn't be on Ganymede. He was going to treat himself to as much at the auction as he could guilt his former associates into giving him and then he was getting the hell off this moon and away from the nightmares and memories.

A fresh start. A new life. Not bad birthday presents, truth be told.

Besides, there was plenty more to the galaxy than just Ganymede. It was time he stopped denying himself the opportunity to explore the entire universe at hand.

excerpt from Chapter 10 of Further On Down the Road (now posted to AO3!)

"Hey, I've been meaning to ask... Pureed stuff is best for his age right now, I get that, but... well, are you sure you're feeding him the right stuff?"

Spike glanced over his shoulder at the guacamole on the table. "I mean, we made that ourselves here on the ship. Can't get much healthier than that, right?"

"No, that's not quite..."

"Nutrient-rich foodstuffs and things with protein. That's what DB's list said to strive for. Keep an eye on labels for words like 'preservative free' and 'low sodium' and 'no sugar' because apparently kids aren't supposed to have salt until they're one and should avoid sugar until they're two. What a restrictive diet, sheesh." Faye muttered, heaping some guacamole onto a chip for herself.

"Yeah, I get that," Jet interrupted. "It's just... I know you guys are excited to give him real food and you were doing separate ingredients of things day by day to make sure he doesn't have allergies... that's all great. I just... it seems odd to me to give him guacamole, smoothies, and soup."

"We don't want him to choke on little bites, Jet!" Faye reasoned. "All those things you described are either purees or a step beyond... straight liquid!" She looked over at Spike. "I think we're doing just fine. Look, he's loving it!" She pointed at Lupin's rapturous expression.

"Besides Jet, you saw the cost of baby food at the store." Spike added.

Jet looked to the ceiling thoughtfully. "True enough." He brought his gaze over to Faye. "For that matter, you ought to just keep him on the tit as long as possible."

floral bouquet / psychological / I'm not as stupid as you think I am (I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me)

Things have been different lately.

Did he start this or did she or was it beyond either of them entirely?

He chose to collapse at her feet. That much of it is on him at least.

But she chose to nurse him back to health. To offer him that heartbreaking smile. To let him see the soft side that he'd only caught in glimpses before when they and Vicious had been able to hit the town between assignments. Even then she hadn't revealed her vulnerable side, just the side of herself that was wild and carefree and impulsive. She was a woman of so many faces, of so many roles. The femme fatale, serious and sultry and sensuous. The enchanting vixen barely out of her teens, playful and giddy and sporting an inappropriate love of pranks and trickery. The homely nurse, radiating comfort and whose touch alone seemed to heal. The daredevil speed demon whose skill on the streets was unparalleled. The fastidious syndicate sniper, the wicked pool shark, the aloof and alluring angel with a smile like sin...

For so long he'd been content to admire from afar. To hustle arrogant assholes at her side. To take to the streets like any unencumbered young folk, making her laugh and coaxing half a smirk from Vicious even. They'd been unbeatable as a triad. Julia and Vicious, the power couple. Spike and Vicious, the ruthless team of upstarts rising through the ranks of the syndicate with brutal ease. They were young, they were bold, they were determined to own the world one day.

Then Vicious started getting into Red Eye and Julia kept disappearing on mysterious missions and Spike himself was shunted off to Earth and the TJ and then the Asteroid Field. His own claim to fame, aside from being a sharpshooter and a thug, was his unmatched ability to pilot zip craft. He was utilized as a runner for Red Eye again and again and again. His artificial eye gave him an incredible edge and the syndicate always liked to use every advantage they had. When he was in Tharsis, he and Vicious were teamed up like always but he felt like the Van was no longer doing it due to their strength as a unit but rather so Spike could keep an eye on Vicious. Yet the other man handled the drug like it was water. Spike himself was no stranger to the enhancement effects of Red Eye and could understand well the siren song of the drug... if it hadn't cost him an eye, there was no telling how deep he could have fallen, but Vicious never seemed out of sorts while on it.

So it came as a surprise when the Van made the decision to send him to Titan. Spike was unhappy about this. Vicious, while a terror to his enemies, had always been a savior to Spike. The other man had rescued him from the Red Eye binge that had left him half-blind in the midst of White Tiger territory and embroiled in a battle far beyond his ability to win or even escape alive. He would have been dead for sure if Vicious hadn't discovered Spike's overdose and tracked him down. He had left a swath of ruin in his wake, so it's not like it was difficult for Vicious to follow along after, but the fact that he had was the important bit. The syndicate would have no doubt been indifferent to his fate - even as one of Mao's favorites, he was just an enforcer back then. The Van had never been bothered by the loss of brute strength here and there. If anything, their concern would have been more on the damage he caused before self-destruction... could it be used in their favor? Would it reflect negatively on their negotiations with anyone else?

Vicious had taken it into his own hands to rescue him. Had cut down all the opponents Spike had left standing. Had scooped him up, screaming and writhing, blood pouring down his face and from countless wounds. And somehow he'd even managed to argue that Spike deserved medical care. Had managed to either bribe or intimidate or persuade the Van to put Spike under their doctor's care and get some experimental surgery to save his vision. Or, to replace what was lost rather.

For that, Spike would have followed him anywhere. He had a life still thanks to Vicious. And then for the Van to send the other man away just because they were worried about his use of Red Eye when he'd never been crazed on the stuff? It didn't sit well with Spike. He ended up plunging off the deep end again without Vicious to keep him in check. He pushed his limits and rampaged and when he was faltering, failing, falling down down down... he chose to go to Julia.

He needed a voice of reason. Someone to guide him. Someone to recognize that his soul was salvageable. He needed a caretaker. He was a beast without a master.

And Vicious was gone and she was alone and Spike was out of his mind to do what he did next.

Or did she initiate it?

It was hard to say, hard to remember. He'd been coming off another Red Eye binge but determined to stay off the damn drug this time. It had taken part of his sight and had nearly taken his life twice now... he was a fool to go back to it but he'd been adrift and underutilized by the syndicate and needed to keep his edge somehow.

And when she was removing his bandages somehow she came to be in his lap and then they were kissing and it was amazing. It was like the universe was unfolding before his very eyes. Stars exploding, breathless passion, the need to feel awake and alive and desired. It was a mistake, of course, but it was the best mistake he'd ever made. She made him feel invincible again. Made him feel like there was something to see in the next day if he could just get there.

It was a passionate affair that only tapered off when Vicious returned. He'd always known he would give her up for his oldest friend. Always knew he'd respect that the other man came first. Julia had been his, or he had been hers... either way, Spike had never expected a chance with the voluptuous blonde. And even while she'd gone back to Vicious... she toyed with Spike as well. It felt almost like psychological torture, the way she would glance over her shoulder with those come-hither eyes while she followed Vicious out of a room. The way she'd press against him at the pool hall under the guise of slipping past to make her shot. The way she'd leave rose petals on his pillow whenever he was gone from his apartment on assignment.

Roses were their thing. Vicious had never bothered with flowers - didn't understand why anyone would want a dying plant, no matter how pleasant the blooms smelled. And so Julia had always gotten herself bouquets. It gave her apartment a certain charm that was irresistible. And, because she had so frequently treated herself to those lovely arrangements, it was not at all suspicious whenever Spike was able to sneak in and leave a rose bouquet for her. He knew their scent was her favorite - she had lotions and perfumes of rose, after all. And the sentiment behind the flower was one Spike could get behind. A way to let her know the truth of his heart though he'd never said the words themselves.

It wasn't long after Vicious got back that things seemed to fall apart. Julia became closed off and withdrawn. Vicious himself was colder than before and took great pleasure in the cruelty he could inflict on their missions, something that was making Spike uncomfortable these days. He'd had a chance to embrace something meaningful and could suddenly see the beauty of affection in other aspects of the world. Could identify and empathize with the other unfortunate souls struggling to survive here in Tharsis. The city was harsh, crime was everywhere, and blood stained the streets where the syndicates clashed. Innocent lives got caught up in the crossfire too often for Spike to be able to shrug it off.

Spike continued to bring Julia roses, slowly drawing her back out of the shell she'd become. There was a sadness to her eyes that he couldn't seem to touch no matter how ardently he made love to her. His jokes no longer made her giggle. It was like a shadow had fallen over them and it filled him with a sense of forboding.

Vicious was waiting on the fire escape when they came back from the pool hall one night. He and Julia had supposedly broken up but there was something dangerous in his gaze as he watched them approach. He and Spike had bid her goodnight and walked off together, side by side and yet somehow worlds apart. There was a chasm between them and Spike wasn't sure how to bridge that gulf. The silence as they strode down the street made him wary but also drove him to speak.

"There's nothing between us," He said, trying to make the words true even as his heart twisted at his blatant lie.

Vicious snorted. "I'm not as stupid as you think I am." There was a long pause before he spoke again. "Be careful when you're with that woman." He cautioned at last, making Spike frown. And then he turned abruptly and moved off down a side street, leaving Spike standing bewildered under the flickering streetlight at a crossroads in the town and in his own life.