Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Prelude ❯ Chapter 2

Barbara Harrier Spiegel turned sideways to the mirror and studied her reflection with a critical eye. The fabric of this dress wasn't her usual style; it shimmered and clung to every curve. Still, smoothing it over her narrow hips, she was satisfied with what she saw. Even in something this revealing, she was as lean and fit as ever. Living the so-called good life for eight years and having a son hadn't affected her figure at all.

Two sons, actually, her mind recalled, but she pushed that thought away. When you slept with a syndicate capo and made the truly stupid mistake of getting pregnant - especially a capo who was marked, as Eddie had been, and soon to die - it was a good idea to forget the entire thing. Good for her, even better for the kid, wherever he was. Better that it had never happened. Definitely better, if survival was your goal. Survival had never been one of Barbara's particular goals, but hell, if the kid had to be born, then he deserved a chance at it.

She tilted her head to slide the glittering sapphire clip into her pale hair, pulling the strands back from her face. Her movement wasn't graceful, the stiffness due to the wounds which had forced her early retirement. She'd mastered the limp, long ago, but had never quite regained full use of her left arm. Her husband Ben, watching from his own dressing table, believed her injuries had come from a vehicle accident, but he knew better than to offer her any help. He might be ignorant of who and what she had once been, but he was under no illusions that she had a sweet temper. But then, he was no saint, either. That was one reason she liked him.

The bedroom door slid open and their son made his usual low-key entrance, trying not to be noticed where he knew darned well he wasn't supposed to be. His black hair, as untamable as Ben's, was standing up in the forest of spikes that had given him his nickname as an infant, and God only knew where he'd been playing, because flakes of mud were crumbling from his jeans onto the rug. "Dammit, Spike," she snarled, and reached for him. At the same time the door opened further and Gretchen, their housekeeper, burst in. She also reached for Spike. Somehow, without apparent effort, he dodged both of them and flung himself into his father's lap, screeching, "Dad! Save me!"

Ben ruffled his hair and laughed, both actions making a bad situation worse. "Back off, ladies. He's mine. What do you want, Spike?"

Trying very hard not to smirk at the thwarted women, Spike said, "Where are you going?"

"Just to a party."

"But you promised me a ride!"

"That's tomorrow." He avoided Barbara's eyes.

"Oh. Tomorrow." Only a (spoiled!) little boy could sound so pathetic, as if tomorrow were a century away.

Furious with both of them, Barbara grabbed what little control she could. "You don't get to go at all if you don't do everything Gretchen tells you tonight. And take a bath!"

"Mo-o-om!"

"And don't forget to wash your hair. You've even got mud in that. Where have you been?"

Instead of answering the question, he turned to Gretchen and said, "Is dinner ready? I'm starving."

"You're always starving," Gretchen groaned. "Come with me, and let your parents finished getting dressed, and I'll give you something to tide you over until the potatoes are cooked, all right?"

He skipped out, neatly avoiding having to tell Barbara where all the mud had come from. She wasn't sure she really wanted to know anyway. She rounded on her husband. "You're not taking him out in that experimental ship!"

"No! Not that one. I won't even be flying that one myself. She's way too sensitive. I'm leaving her to the younger men. I'm just flying escort, to see how she does. Can't sell her unless I can talk about her first-hand."

"That's your reason for going. What's Spike's? Dammit, Ben, tomorrow's a school day!"

He at least had the grace to look ashamed of himself. "I know."

"Well?"

"Well, he might never get a chance to see a ship like this one again."

"Oh, bull. He'll see thousands of them. He's going to be a flyer just like you when he grows up. If he finishes school!"

"I know, I know. But he hates school. And he heard me talking about the test flight today, and… well, he gave me The Look."

"No more! Never again on a school day, I don't care if he follows you for hours giving you The Look, he is not going! And if you tell him he is, he's going to be real disappointed and you are going to look like a liar. I'm putting my foot down on this."

He rose and grinned. "I can see that. All right, I promise. No more school days."

"Swear."

"I swear."

She grabbed the matching hair clip and shoved it in almost haphazardly. "Do I look all right?"

"Beautiful as always."

His voice sounded odd, and she turned to look at him more closely. He had a hand spread on his stomach and an odd expression on his face. "Ben? Is something wrong?"

"Naw. Just a little indigestion."

It looked worse than a little indigestion. He was pale. "Do you want to just skip the party tonight?"

"It's not that bad, hon. Besides, the company's going have clients there, important ones. I have to do the glad-hand routine."

"All right, but if you don't start feeling better, we'll leave early."

"Deal." He did seem to be shaking it off, and by the time he held out her wrap to drape over her bare shoulders, he was completely himself again.

Ben didn't sleep well that night, so before her men left for the new ship's test flight, she woke Spike early and took him to the gym for a workout, to get rid of some of that excess boyish energy. She rarely spent so much time with him - she wasn't exactly the maternal type - so she was hugely relieved to hand him over to Ben after less than two hours of his company. She didn't understand how Ben did it, but he never seemed to tire of Spike, no matter how long they were together, even if it was an entire weekend. Of course, they were a lot alike. Not in looks - although Spike had Ben's coloring, the black hair and the beautiful brown eyes, he was otherwise definitely her child, tall, lean and leggy - but in personality. They were like a pair of cats, lazing around one minute as if they didn't know how to move, then the next minute bounding about as if a mere house couldn't possibly contain them. Ben was nearly 20 years her senior, yet sometimes he made her feel old. The man has never grown up, she mused as she watched the pair of them clamber into the car. No wonder he gets along so well with the kid. Just bring him home clean for once, will you, Ben? But he wouldn't. He'd drag the kid along with him to the hangars and they'd climb in and out of space craft and come back with grease in every fold of their skin and huge stupid grins on their faces. Spike definitely got that from Ben. She hated space travel and everything to do with it. She'd been born on Mars and had never left it, and she never intended to. She didn't mind listening to Ben talk about his work, partly because that was her wifely duty, but mostly because he was so charmingly enthusiastic about it. However, she was delighted to present him with a son to share it with, so he would quit trying to get her to join him up there.

They came back late and in fine spirits, but Ben was worn out. He flopped in his chair and they watched vid, the shows punctuated by Spike's descriptions of the high points of his exciting day. The one he repeated most often was that his father had let him fly the ship they were on, a declaration that, the first time, made her jerk upright and open her mouth to yell until she caught Ben's wink over the top of Spike's head. Spike was still talking about it, and making obnoxious zip craft engine noises, when she shoved him into bed. Immediately after, she coaxed Ben into going to bed early. He was so weary, she tucked him in almost exactly as she had Spike.

That was the last night they had as a family.

Ben rose late the next morning, but otherwise he seemed fine. Luckily, Spike had gone off to school by the time she and Ben sat down to breakfast. Gretchen served Barbara her coffee and Ben his cereal, then started beating eggs for an omelette. Everything seemed so normal. Then Ben looked at her with an expression of mild surprise and abruptly fell face-down into his bowl.

Barbara sat for several seconds, staring at him, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. It was Gretchen who snapped her out of it, by coming in, dropping her tray, and screaming. Gretchen babbled hysterically for several seconds, then raced for the wall comm unit to call an ambulance. Barbara didn't bother to move. She'd seen a lot of dead men in her career, and she knew it was far too late for any doctor to help Ben.

The shock of Ben's heart attack was severe, but not nearly as severe as what followed it. She'd been fond of Ben, as fond as she'd ever been of a man other than Eddie, but she wasn't the kind of woman whose life centered around her family. She'd married him because she couldn't support herself any more in her chosen career, and he was a nice, good-looking guy with money. She missed him, but the suddenness of it hurt as much as the actual fact. The larger shock, and the deeper pain, came a few days after the funeral, when Ben's accountant and their family lawyer gave her the worst news of all. Ben had left them almost penniless.