Alone Together

Alone Together

"You've been coming here every night." It's the fourth night that he's seen her and he's finally been unable to deny his own curiosity any longer. He's on a set break, or, well, he could just be done for the night. It's not as though the bar is full of patrons demanding an encore. In fact, aside from the bartender and the pianist, it's just him and her.

"Perhaps the music keeps bringing me back." Her voice is coy and playful but there is a sadness in her eyes.

"Women are an unusual sight here on Callisto, you know." He feels oddly protective of her, yet something tells him she can handle herself just fine, even here.

"It seemed like a fitting place to come to. A woman, all alone. It's good to be alone sometimes, you know." Despite her words, something about her seems not just alone but lonely too. Solitude can eat away at a person after a while.

"Are you asking me to leave?" He doesn't want to go home. Something about her is compelling him to stay, but he won't if it disturbs her.

"I'm asking you to play it for me... that song from the first night I walked in." Her gaze is wistful, her request intrigues him further.

"You're familiar with that tune? I'm surprised, no one else seems to know it." It's the truth. He's never heard it prior to the music box and no one else has ever seemed to recognize it when he's played.

"I'm an unusual woman." A Mona-Lisa smile touches her lips. "There's a certain sentiment it evokes for me. I wonder where you learned it." Her eyes trace over his instrument.

"It was a gift... a music box. From a comrade-in-arms." He hadn't told his story to anyone else. Who was there to talk to? But he felt a kinship to this stranger. This mysterious woman who somehow knew the song no one else knew.

"Ahh." She took in a deep breath, held it for a long moment, then let it out slowly. "I don't suppose you're in the mood for some company? I'll admit I'm tired of sitting on barstools and breathing smoky air."

He sensed there was something else she'd wanted to say. He wondered if she'd be more forthcoming if he invited her to his apartment. It was a place no one else had been. Did he want to bring her there? Her query seemed to suggest a coupling, but he was positive that wasn't what she was offering. Something about her seemed untouchable.

"I could be done here for the night." He admitted.

"Then... if you don't mind... it's just that I'm tired of being alone. For one night it would be nice to have someone to talk to."

He wondered if she felt the same draw to him that he felt to her. What was it about this woman? On a gut impulse, he nodded his head.

"I will honor your song request when we get to my place. And, truthfully, I would appreciate having someone to talk to as well. Just, promise you won't go telling my stories to anyone else?"

She laughed softly. "There's no one else in my life. I've chosen solitude as my companion, you see."

"Then, let me just put my sax in the case. She doesn't like the cold weather so I try to keep her safe. And then, we can spend some time alone - together."

This Drink's On Me

"I got this one,"

Jet turned on his barstool at the unexpected offer. Faye snorted at the no-doubt incredulous look on his face.

"What?" He asked, intelligently.

She rolled her eyes. "This drink-" She waved to indicate the beverage newly set before him, "it's on me."

Giving her a suspicious stare, Jet picked up the glass.

"This is very unlike you, Faye. What's the deal?"

"Can't a girl do something nice for her comrades once in a while?" Faye demanded petulantly.

Still regarding her warily, Jet took a sip of the bourbon. His eyebrows rose at the unexpected flavor on his tongue.

"Hey now, that's some top shelf stuff! Barrel aged on Ganymede but the original barrels themselves were brought over from Earth before the Gate Incident. Since then someone thought to plant oak trees on a few of the floating islands so now new barrels can be charred and used. There's only two families on Ganymede that have the ability to churn this out. I'm surprised a seedy joint like these even carries it." Jet said, making sure the bartender wasn't in earshot before slurring the establishment they were in.

"Mm, Spike suggested it but I should have known ordering something called Spirit of Ganymede would end in me getting some useless history lesson from you." Faye shook her head and took her own glass into hand as she pushed out of her lean against the bar to sashay her way towards the back of the dimly lit tavern.

Spike's distinctive mop of hair was only just visible back there among the cluster of pool tables. Shaking his head at Faye's fickle nature, Jet took another slow pull of the bourbon whiskey, savoring it as it settled on his tongue. Trees were few and far between on Ganymede and so there were only a handful of coopers to make the barrels in the first place, but thankfully the barrels had a lifespan of about sixty years.

His father had once taken him on a tour at the Albatross Distillery. It had been an incredible experience that culminated with a relaxing hour spent sampling various bourbons in front of a grand fireplace while a live band played. It had been one of the last times Jet had been able to spend with his old man before his dad died, in fact.

Lost in memory, he was startled when Spike showed up at his elbow wearing a bemused grin and gazing at the slowly closing back door of the pub.

"With how many drinks that woman put down it's no wonder she's headed for the alley to sick up." The other man remarked, shaking his head.

Jet finished his own glass and moved to set it onto the bar just as the bartender came over with a lengthy slip of paper.

"What's this?" Jet asked when the gentleman handed it to him.

"The lady said you're taking care of the tab, sir." The bartender explained helpfully before moving away as another customer summoned him over.

"Wait, what?!" Jet looked at the bill and then up at Spike. "She said drinks were on her!"

Spike laughed. "That wasn't what she said to me before she dipped. It was something along the lines of... He wishes my mouth was what broke? Let's see whose broke now!"

Jet groaned. "I knew her offer was too good to be true! Hey, Spike, got any woolongs on...you..." Jet trailed off as he watched his partner disappearing out the front door with a jaunty little wave. Another glance at the bill revealed it was for more than just Jet and Faye's drinks. Had they orchestrated this together?!

"If sir is ready to pay..." The bartender was back, looking worriedly from the swiftly closing front door to Jet himself. "Apologies but your companions have left the building and the tab must be closed."

Sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, Jet looked back down at the bill with a weary sigh. "What's your policy on folks a bit short perhaps?" He flashed a quick grin to reassure the fellow. "This arm may not look made for immersion in water but lemme tell ya I'm real good at washing dishes!"

Free Fall

I don't feel a thing...

and I stop remembering...

the days are just like moments turned to hours...

Shattered glass caught a thousand reflections of a defeated man plunging in a free fall towards the unforgiving ground.

Eyes stared blankly up at the sky, unseeing.

The only images playing in Spike's vision were ghosts of the past.

A woman - neither angel nor devil, merely inherently human - who may as well no longer exist.

A man - a friend, a comrade, a partner - who had become an enemy.

No. He was the one who had changed. He had spurned his bosses and betrayed everyone he'd known and stood beside for so many tumultuous years.

And now he was falling...falling...falling into an uncertain infinity.

Vicious was within the cathedral still - perhaps caught in the explosion from the grenade Spike had lobbed back inside before his weightless plummet began.

Weightless, formless... Back to the beginning, to be born again. Start over, start fresh, do better this time. Except...

He could feel the weight of his own body dragging him towards the ground. The weight of his conscience pulling him guiltily towards personal truths he'd rather avoid.

His body was in free fall but so too was his mind.

Was this a dream then? Was anything ever real?

Royal Flush

It was harder to cheat at poker than dice but mainly because she had no sleeves to keep cards hidden up. No wonder Spike had insisted on cards. Still, Faye had spent a good portion of time learning how to bluff and how to read her opponent, so she was fairly confident in her ability to beat Spike.

He had a tell, after all, and that was all she needed.

Then again, Spike was far too clever for his own good. She didn't put it past him to be feigning a tell just to get her to lower her guard in false confidence.

They'd been playing for hours already while the ship floated dead in space. It wasn't the first time nor would it be the last time that they ran out of fuel and had to drift along until they reached a starbase or a planetary outpost. This time they at least had a pantry full of food. Ramen cups, but food nonetheless.

Jet had folded in a previous round and subsequently bailed entirely. Ed had been cast out of the game for repeatedly trying to play according to different rules. Ein hadn't been included in the first place even though Ed had insisted on his skills. Now it was down to just Spike and Faye.

They were playing heads up poker which was a more fast paced and aggressive form of the game. Naturally this suited both Spike and Faye just fine. They'd decided to play for cigarettes originally since it was the one commodity both had in spades. Shortly after Ed passed out, Spike had suggested strip poker but Faye had shot that down since she had so much less to lose.

Though his casual suggestion had certainly put some wild ideas in Faye's head. Which was probably all part of his plot to throw her off. He seemed too chill about her initial outraged reaction and hadn't even bothered to push for it. Instead he'd acquiesced to her rebuttle of loser washing the winner's zip craft.

He had his chin resting in his left hand and a smirk on his face as he fanned his cards lazily. He looked like the cat who got the cream. There was nothing left to do but lay down her own cards but Spike's expression and posture didn't faze her in the least. She knew hers was a winning hand. And she hadn't even needed to cheat!

"Four of a kind, read 'em and weep!" Faye called out, laying her hand down.

"Mm, such a shame." Spike mused, putting his own cards face down on the table.

Glee spread across Faye's face as she greedily gathered up the loose smokes on the coffee table.

"Shame indeed! My craft got covered in bird crap on that last mission," She told him without a hint of compassion.

"No no no, Faye... A shame for you!" Spike reached out and slowly flipped each of his cards over to reveal... "Royal Flush."

"What!" Faye squawked. "But you didn't even slow blink!"

He snorted. "You thought I had a tell? Aww, poor Faye-Faye!" A grin stretched across his face. "Gotta say I'm looking forward to our next dock. Seeing you in a swim suit getting suds all over my... cockpit..."

Faye's cheeks burned red. "Why you dirty-"

"Well, it's my ship that's dirty but..."

"Ugh. I'm done playing." Faye grumped. She let the cigarettes spill back onto the coffee table and then snatched one up as an afterthought. "I'm bumming one of these."

Spike blinked at her slowly. "I'll spot you another... If you need one after a round in my quarters."

"Ohh you think I'm gonna play you again?" Faye purred at him. "I got news for you, buddy. I don't play games in bed." She stood up then and stuck a hand down to take his and yank him to his feet. "But I'm ready for a reeeeeal good workout. If you think you can make me sweat..."

Don't Lose Me

"And now for a big cheer... from the bottom of my heart. Go! Go! Me, me, me! Do your best, do your best! Me, me, me! Don't lose, don't lose! Me, me, me!"

The image on the screen bounced around joyfully for a bit longer before freezing in place, though words continued to echo from the speakers of the small television.

Faye couldn't hear the rest of the young girl's chant. Her ears were ringing and her mind had gone momentarily blank. Emotional blackout. Confusion reigned and her body took control, leading her stumbling backward down the hallway until she reached an open door and tumbled into the room to land in a sprawl on the cold metal floor.

Numbly, she registered that it was Spike's seldom-used bedroom that she'd entered. His was closer to the living room so this made sense. It was one of the few things that did at the moment.

So that was what had been delivered? It wasn't debt collectors hounding her after all... it was somehow something worse.

It had to have been herself. A child Faye. A specter from a forgotten time. A phantom projected into the future, intruding into the life of the woman she'd become.

"Don't! Lose! Me!"

The spirited plea of the video message played on a loop in her mind.

'Oh honey,' Faye thought then, 'oh you sweet pitiful child... You're long gone, sad to say. Gone and truly forgotten. More lost than you could ever imagine.'

Tears welled in her eyes. Even having seen that evidence of her own life from however many years before... it triggered nothing. No cascade of memories unlocked, no comprehension of who the other children were or where the video had been filmed or familiarity from any of the images of a girl's bedroom - HER bedroom.

Frustration began to fill her. It was so unfair! Her lack of a past, rubbed in her face like this... what a cruel trick! This was worse than losing at the tracks. This was humiliating and infuriating. The others had seen the video - knew now for themselves that Faye had been... Well, that thing on the tape. That bashful, bright eyed idiot.

They knew as much about her past now as she did. It might as well have been a movie starring someone none of them had ever met. Faye certainly felt no kinship to the little girl that had cheered on the screen. But, oh, how she wanted to.

Her heart was racing. Her breathing was turning rapid and shallow. She blinked but her vision remained wavery from the unshed tears that were no doubt about to blind her completely. It was appalling but she was on the verge of a breakdown. This, at least, was something she was familiar with. This was something she could endure because she'd lived through episodes like this before.

A scuffling sound in the hall made her draw a shaky arm across her face to dash the impending tears from her eyes and clear her vision to some degree.

Slouched just beyond the doorframe, hands tucked into his pockets, Spike stood and took in her quaking form and impending self-destruction with a critical eye. He said nothing, but withdrew one hand from his pants pocket to rummage in a pocket of his suit jacket for a moment. Brown eyes stayed trained on her, softened in compassion though his expression remained carefully neutral.

Jet's voice called something down the hall, making Spike turn slightly back towards the living room.

He pulled a crumpled package of cigarettes from his pocket and then a lighter as well. Tossing both items onto the unmade bed just behind Faye, he gave her a simple nod before casually pressing the button to close the door to his room and walking back to the others.

Faye watched his retreat until the door shut entirely, enclosing her in a much needed section of privacy. His kindness startled her, but she couldn't begin to think about that now.

"Don't! Lose! Me Me Me!"

Sobs spilled out of her as she wrapped her arms around herself and leaned back against the bed, which sat on a metal shelf much like the mattress in her own room. She was grateful for the solidity of the ship beneath her trembling body. It felt good to have something real to rest against, cold though it was.

Huddling in a pathetic ball on the floor of Spike's room, Faye let herself come completely undone. A cathartic release, Jet would say. Letting out the bad sads, Ed would sing. She knew now that Spike wouldn't speak - he'd just share a smoke or a drink, which was ultimately the perfect response. She didn't need platitudes or advice or pity. She didn't even need sympathy right now, truth be told. She just needed to fall apart.

Maybe then she could piece herself back together into something that beautiful little stranger would recognize.

'Little girl lost, oh where can you be? Maybe someday my memories will come back to me...'

The Last Dance

He wondered at the gullibility of the Van. It seemed absurd, in light of their apparent ignorance, that such a foolish trio could have been in charge all this time. Yet even Mao had not foreseen his own inevitable demise.

How could these pathetic people have led the Syndicate for so long? Respect and fear had driven loyalty for decades, but for years now it had been beyond Vicious to feel either towards the Elders or Mao.

Complacency had usurped their power long before Vicious had determined his only possible course in life. The Red Dragons had been controlling Tharsis and beyond since before Vicious was even born. To join the Syndicate had been a dream for countless street rats hoping to make a name for themselves, to belong to something bigger and better, to secure fame and acclaim and the deference of others.

In the beginning, he too had been swayed to see the Elders and Capos as being invincible. All powerful. Dedicated to the brutal rule of the Red Dragons.

He and Spike had been in awe of these men. They had adhered to all the rules and obeyed all commands. They'd been indoctrinated to serve the masters with little to no thought of their own beyond blind ambition to rise in rank.

Indeed, for too many years they'd been merely puppets. Trained to dance in death, to operate in silence and efficiency, to handle all the messy affairs of the Elders who certainly could not be bothered to mete out punishment to everyone in or near the Syndicate itself.

They had been a lethal team, he and Spike. Driven by the desire to not only do as instructed but to do it so well that no one else could compare. They outclassed their brethren agents in no time and became the go-to warriors of the Van.

How many times had they been pointed in a direction and set loose? Regain control of this district. Eliminate that gang. Infiltrate these organizations and convert them to the Dragons. Administer cruelty when necessary, administer death when there was no alternative.

And oh they could dance the dance.

Trained in combat, they allowed instinct to guide them through situations that should have seen them dead. Time after time it was only thanks to their own ability to seamlessly flow together as a destructive pair that saw them through to the other side of battle.

Back to back or side by side, they advanced through the enemies and meticulously climbed the ranks. And it was all so easy. Their movements were liquid, vaporous, unable to be predicted by their opponents yet with each other it was as if they shared a mind. It was a crucial connection.

Even now, years after Spike's betrayal, Vicious could read his thoughts and anticipate his moves. Oh, the "cowboy" as he seemingly liked to be called, he'd grown as weak as Mao when it came to dealing with others, preferring compromise to crushing defeat. But unlike the Van, Spike would have seen right through Vicious's plot.

Indeed, Vicious was counting on that.

He'd given Spike a chance to redeem himself. A chance to let the blood of the beast reign supreme and bring him back into the fold. But then, on Callisto, it became despairingly obvious that Spike was truly unfit to be considered an equal anymore. Fettered by a foolish heart, still blind to the dangers of a simple woman, lashing out in rage that prevented understanding... Spike was pathetic.

Vicious had left that cold moon with the grudging awareness of his brother's ineptitude. Spike, to whom Vicious had been held in comparison for so long. Spike, the golden child Mao had favored. Spike was no Dragon any longer. He was merely a man that Vicious would need to slay at some point.

More pressing had been the need to cement the loyalty of his own underlings. To subvert power from the outdated rulers of the Syndicate. To plan and stage a coup so Vicious could take his rightful place at the head of the beast and lead the Red Dragons boldly into a future where they were beheld to no one and all other syndicates bowed to them.

He had orchestrated things beautifully. Had pulled puppet strings like a master. And now it was time to prepare for one final confrontation with his previous partner, the only obstacle that remained to threaten his own position at the top of the ladder.

Time for one last dance together - one last dance to the death.