Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Chaos ❯ Resolve And Rescue ( Chapter 5 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chaos

By: S-chan

Chapter 5

In about an hour, Jet knocked sharply on Spike's door.

"Spike," he called gruffly, trying to keep this particular conversation - if it could even be called that - as short, clipped and inoffensive as possible. "We'll be there in fifteen minutes."

Spike grunted a noncomittal, monosyllabic response and very slowly, ever so reluctantly sat up. He roughly jerked a hand through his hair, making the great green tangle even wilder than it was to begin with. Then, for some odd reason, he heard a faint scraping noise coming from - what now? - under his bed. His head was starting to throb and his chest was so tight it was painful.

Ignoring his pounding headache, he hauled himself off the bed and reached for the fallen ceiling pipe that lay beside his nightstand for when he couldn't reach his gun. Rolling his eyes, he stuck the pipe under the bed and poked it around for a second. A startled "Yeep!" sounded from under the bed and the pipe was immediately yanked from his hand.

Shaking his head and sighing irritably, Spike stood up and found himself face to face with a grinning, pipe-wielding Ed. He flinched in surprise, glared at her, and took hold of the pipe, trying to pry it from her surprisingly strong grip. The goofy computer junkie plunked herself down on Spike's bed - straight in the middle, one might add - and looked at him curiously.

"Why is Spike-person so unhappy?" she asked, one hand rumpling her crazy red hair and reminding Spike of the way a dog would scratch its ears.

Spike, who was about to tell the girl off for hiding under his bed, was now more than a little confused. Ed, usually so bouncy and carefree to the point of being mental, now seemed seriously concerned about him. He was getting extremely antsy about this entire situation and was in serious need of some venting time. With nowhere else to turn short of talking to Ein - or a toaster - and acknowledging his growing insanity, Spike let out a defeated sigh and sat down beside Ed.

"Ed, do you know what it means to love someone?" he asked cautiously, not looking at the girl he spoke to.

"Like Ed loves ramen?" asked Ed, tilting her head and closing one eye just for the unintentional purpose of making herself stranger than before. "And like Ein loves the refrigerator?"

Spike wondered if he should have his head examined or if he was so far gone now that he was beyond help - or maybe he should just try the toaster...

"Not exactly," he said, shaking his head and wondering if his brain was high, or sleeping, or dead. "Like when you care so much for another person that you would do anything for them. When it hurts to know they're hurting... When you feel totally weak and helpless when you know they're going to be hurt but you can't do jack shit about it..."

Ed looked up at Spike, her goofy face screwed up in confusion,.

"What other person?" she asked, smiling brightly. "Ed loves Ein and ramen!"

Spike sighed again and bowed his head - the toaster was seriously beginning to sound like a good idea right about now...

"Like a man loves a woman," he said softly, giving up on ever regaining his sanity and wondering if he should move the toaster into his bedroom - it wasn't like they had anything to make toast out of.

Ed blinked at him, her eyes wide and owlish.

"Like Spike-person loves that lady?" she asked, her eyes wide and her voice soft.

Drawing a shuddering breath, Spike nodded.

"Edward is confused!" declared Ed. "If Spike-person loves the lady, why is he not with her?"

"Because I'm an idiot," replied Spike sullenly, resting his head on his hand and staring moodily at the wall. "I fell in love with a bounty..."

"Spike-person loves Chaos?" asked Ed, her voice awed.

"If that's what they're calling her, then yes," answered Spike, his voice sounding shocked and almost disbelieving as he said the last three words. "I love her."

"Then Spike-person save her!" screeched Ed, leaping to her feet and throwing her arms up in the air.

Spike cringed for the sake of his eardrums and automatically moved out of the way of the human storm that was Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV. But somewhere in the back of his mind, something very important came together. He could knock himself out later for admitting it, but Ed was right. He loved Angel and he should save her. He checked his jacket and felt the familiar weight of his gun. His heart and mind were finally on the same wavelength. He knew exactly what he had to do.

"Thanks Ed," he said quietly, pushing himself up off the bed.

Just then, he heard Jet calling and telling him, in the same way he had interrupted before, that they had stopped. Spike's heart pounded, his head continuing to throb as it never had before - not even when Faye had broken a feather pillow over it after he fell out the church window. Again his response was a noncomittal monosyllable. With his hands once more jammed deep in his pockets, he stalked out of his room with Ed giving him a thumbs-up behind him. A grim expression darkened his handsome face.

The first thing Spike noticed was that Angel was no longer asleep on the couch. Jet had one hand - the cyborg one - on her shoulder, his face expressionless. His grip was maybe a little more firm than necessary, Spike noticed. Faye was leaning against the wall, studying her fingernails with acute interest. Angel looked like she was in pain, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Her catlike green eyes were wide in fear and the pain of betrayal, staring at Spike in disbelief. Spike walked past all of them with not a word or even so much as a sideways glance.

A squat, balding man with a bad comb-over stood at the door. Obviously he was waiting for them. Faye followed Spike, silently fiddling with a small handbag. As the man in the suit showed Faye in, he tried to feel her up. *SMACK!* Faye swatted him hard with her handbag. Jet led Angel in after Faye. With his hands once more in his pockets, Spike followed, his face still grim.

"HENTAI!" screeched Faye. "Quit trying to feel my ass!"

Another loud *SMACK!* indicated another handbag-swat.

"Right this way," said the squat doorman in a rather nasal voice - Spike wanted to strangle the idiot right then and there. "Miss Felecia will be with you in a moment."

The mostly-silent group followed the doorman into a room that was substantially more luxurious than the building's exterior let on. For an uncomfortable few minutes, they stood there staring around the room. Even Jet looked a little uneasy, though, as he usually did, he tried not to show it. There were few inviting aspects of the expensively decorated room. The chairs, though upholstered in velvet, didn't look at all comfortable. They looked like they had been designed to use as tie-downs. Angel's gaze jerked around the room like a frightened ferret. Spike swallowed hard, trying not to think about what may have gone on in this place that she might be remembering.

"Were you admiring our Imperial Elegance decor?" asked a low, musical voice, making them all jump.

A young woman, apparently in her early thirties, stalked into the room. Her dress was very tight black velvet, laced up in the front with a slit up to her hip, emphasizing her curves. Her lips were a deep shade of matte burgundy and done into a seductive pout. Her cold, dark purple eyes were shadowed in black, making her look like a demon princess. Fingernails like claws, painted blood-red, looked deadly. Long raven-black hair hung dead straight, when she had her arms by her sides, to her wrists. Each wrist was adorned with a spiked leather bracelet. She was eyeing Angel in a way that resembled a panther on its prey - cold, calculating and ruthless.

"Hello, you are the ones who agreed to bring Chaos back to where she belongs?" she asked, tilting her head and focusing her cold orbs on the Bebop crew (minus Ed & Ein, of course). "I have been expecting you and I am glad to see you are right on time. Something to drink maybe?"

She gestured towards an impressive bar.

"I'm sorry, lady, but we're short on time," said Jet shortly. "Can we please just get straight to business?"

The young woman raised one perfectly-shaped-and-penciled eyebrow at the ex-cop, and then her face resumed its cold expression.

"As you wish," she said curtly, reaching into the small black purse that hung from her pale shoulder. "We agreed on twelve million, is that correct?"

Jet nodded.

"As agreed," conceded the young woman, her voice rather cold.

The sound of a gun being cocked froze all motion in the room and everything fell completely silent. Spike's footsteps seemed painfully close to deafening on the perfectly shined and polished hardwood floor. His cold glare sent ice shooting through the hearts of his comrades and pierced deeper than any bullet ever could. Slowly, he stepped in between the two parties, straight in front of Angel.

"No," he growled.

"Spike!?" yelled Faye. "What the hell-!"

Spike narrowed his eyes at her. For once in her unnaturally-extended life, Faye Valentine shut her trap. She just glared at Spike, who was now proceeding to ignore her.

"Really Spike," said Jet in his usual calm voice. "What are you doing?"

"She is in enough trouble as it is," warned the young woman in a harsh, cold voice, nothing at all like the musically ethereal tone she had been using when she first walked in. "You are only increasing the pain of the consequences on her."

A white-knuckled hand clenched on the sweat-slick grip of a gun.

"I won't let you torment her anymore," growled Spike.

"What are you saying?" asked Felecia icily. "What can you do?"

Spike stared straight into those cold, deep violet eyes with pure hatred in his own mismatched russet ones.

"Let her go-" he ordered, his voice deadly calm.

He leveled his gun between Angel's eyes.

"Or I'll kill her myself," he finished, tensing his finger on the trigger.

Angel stared at Spike in horror, looking as if she were about to faint, but made no sound.

"What purpose would that serve?" demanded Felecia, her voice now openly tense.

"Then no one benefits," snarled Spike, his voice hard and dripping with hateful venom towards all but one other occupant of the room. "You lose her" -he narrowed his eyes at the young woman- "and you lose your money" -he narrowed his eyes at Jet and Faye.-"

A tear escaped from his eye and trailed slowly down his cheek - his voice lowered and took on a much different tone.

"And---" he choked.

His hand started shaking as more tears traced wet paths on his face.

"And I lose the woman I love," he said quietly, his voice shaking as much as his hand.

Dead silence followed his words.

"Please let her go," whispered Spike, his voice audible only because of the grave-like silence. "I don't want to do this, but if it's the only way to get her out of this excuse for a life, I will."

Felecia bristled at him, clenching her brilliantly white teeth defiantly, though she could think of no words to retort. Jet's face was blank. Faye actually looked scared. She knew Spike and she knew he meant what he said. His heart was breaking, but still he would get Angel out of a life of torture no matter what he had to do. From the look of it now, if he had to do it, he would most likely turn his gun on himself. Biting her lip, Faye wondered if she would regret stopping him.

"Angel..." Spike said softly, tensing his finger on the trigger a little more. "Forgive me..."

In a moment without thought, Faye stepped forward and put her hand on Spike's arm.

"Stop," she whispered. "Having to live on instant ramen for a few extra days isn't worth taking somebody's life..."

She turned to the cold bordello mistress and drew herself up to her full height.

"Do you think we could make a deal?" she asked, her voice businesslike, though not exactly polite.

Felecia eyed Faye suspiciously.

"What kind of deal are you suggesting?" she demanded, her voice lower than it had been and just as cold - ice with frozen venom - though she tried to bring ethereal music into it once more.

"I've heard this place has been involved with some underground dealings," said Faye off-handedly, looking around the room and leaning carelessly on the polished wood of the desk. "And I've also heard that you might have a fairly sizable bounty on ya yourself."

Felecia bristled angrily again.

"Prove it," she spat.

Faye raised an eyebrow at her.

"Ya really want me to do that?" she asked threateningly, reaching for something in a pocket at her hip. "Or do ya just want to hear my idea?"

Felecia bit her lip and sat up ramrod-straight.

"Then let's hear it," she snapped, dropping her ethereal, musical voice altogether. "Make it fast and make it good."

"Here it is," said Faye. "You can give us her contract and we'll walk out of here like this never happened. Consider it a business expense."

She turned and looked over her shoulder at Spike.

"He's serious, y'know," she told the bordello mistress, not looking at the evil woman to whom she spoke. "So it might be a good idea to just go ahead and let us have her contract. That is, unless you want to deal with one hell of a police investigation. A murder and a suicide, plus charges of illegal prostitution won't exactly encourage business, if you get my meaning..."

Felecia opened her mouth to say something, but Faye cut her off.

"But... I guess if you want blood on your *perfectly-wallpapered* walls, it's your decision..." she said with a false sigh, as if she were giving up.

"Fine," snapped Felecia, now looking straight at the gun in Spike's hand and appearing fairly ruffled. "It's on file in that desk. If you want it, go get it."

Faye gave the evil woman a hard, hateful look and went to fish through the many desk drawers. After going through a few of them, at some points looking as if she were about to be seriously ill, she found what she was looking for. A crisp manila folder held all the necessary papers. Faye gave Spike a smile, though he was still facing Angel, as if in a trance. Being fairly talented at handwriting forgery, she quickly signed Spike's name where it was needed. The handwriting was awful, almost illegible. The blobs of ink were barely recognizable as handwriting at all - all the more reason to know it was obviously Spike's. It was settled.

"Well, that's that," said Faye softly, turning to Spike. "She's yours now, Spike."

Spike let his eyes open halfway, as if released from a curse, and saw Angel standing there in front of him, shaking in fear. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her arms stiff at her sides - so tense they were shaking violently. Though she looked scared, there was a definite aura of resolve to her bearing - no tears were visible on her face and her breathing was steady. She was ready to end her life instead of going back to a life of selling herself. Spike dropped his gun. It clattered deafeningly to the hardwood floor. For a moment he just stood there, spellbound.

"Angel..." he choked out. "I'm so sorry..."

Closing his eyes once more and trying to force back tears - his own and Angel's - he took a step forward and wrapped his arms around Angel's petite form and held her close to his chest. His grip was desperate, as if he thought he would die if he let her go. Angel's thin, bony arms slipped around his waist, squeezing him delicately. Spike bowed his head, leaning it down so that his forehead rested on Angel's shoulder. His own shoulders shook and his tears soaked into the white shirt he had given her.

"I love you," he whispered through his soft cries, closing his eyes and nuzzling her throat.

Angel tightened one arm around him, sliding her other hand up over his back and neck to stroke his soft green hair.

"I love you too," she whispered back, holding him close and shutting her eyes as well.