One More Time (Page 5)

"Hey there, buy a girl a drink?"

The voice was different, too, not quite as deep, but somehow none of the changes really bothered him so much. She was still the woman he loved, that would never change.

Never.

* * *

Those voices were back. Some guy and some girl. He knew he'd heard them before, but he wasn't sure where or when. Just disembodied voices floating around him.

"Well, that's it. The doc's done all he can. It's up to Spike now."

"Oh, that's just great. Mr. 'I need to go take on an army of syndicate goons single-handedly just to see if I'm really alive,' and we're left counting on his will to live? Got any more good news for me, Jet?"

"Yeah, it's your turn to do the laundry."

"I'm serious."

"So am I. Have you smelled the pile we got building up over there?" A deep sigh. "Besides, it'll give you something to do besides sitting here worrying about something you can't change."

"Worried? Who says I'm worried? Why should I care if that—"

"Faye…"

"Oh, all right, I admit it. So what if I'm gonna start ripping my hair out if this keeps up much longer. Is that a crime?"

A pause, and then the guy's voice again, softer this time. "No, Faye, it's not. I just think—I think he needs to know you're worried. He needs to know how you feel."

"And just what do you mean by that?"

"Can it, Faye! I heard you talking with Spike in the hallway before he left."

"So you were eavesdropping, huh? Besides that, where do you get off presuming you know me so well? It's not like we've been together that long, and even if we had been—"

"Just cut the crap, all right? I know it, you know it, and I'm sure, somewhere inside, that lunkhead knows it, too. You may not want to admit it, but right now you may be the one thing that can keep Spike here. I truly believe that you are it, Faye. You are the key to bringing him back!"

A long pause. "I've got laundry to do, Jet. I'll talk to you later." The sounds of footsteps, someone walking away, then stopping." The girl's voice again, much lower, almost whispering. "Just keep an eye on him, will you?" The footsteps started again, slowly fading away.

That man's voice started talking again, but Spike had moved beyond caring. I wonder what they're all so worked up about. Oh well, no concern of mine…

They both had always know it would never work, always known that this is how it would end. Some tragic gangland Romeo and Juliet, doomed from the moment they first saw each other. Only difference was, this time Romeo didn't die.

What would Romeo have done? What would he have done if his poison hadn't worked, if he had been dragged kicking and screaming back into the light, back from the destiny he had chosen for himself? What's a star-crossed lover to do if the stars suddenly go his way? Would he have accepted his new destiny, forged ahead to his new future, or would he have wasted away, knowing that nothing could match up to the ideal woman he held in his heart?

Ideal. That was the kicker, wasn't it? Julia was ideal, the ideal. The one who completed him. The one who gave him a reason to go on. When he had been at his lowest, darkest point, when he had been drowning in the bullets and blood, she had thrown him a lifeline. She had brought him back to shore and in so doing had condemned herself as well. She could have killed him and gone on with her life, but instead she chose to run, putting her own life on the line to save his. No one else had ever done that for him.

No one?Is that really the truth? Haven't you had friends—good friends, life-long friends—who came for you even after you had pushed them away? Didn't they risk their lives for you time and again…and didn't you care enough for them that you did the same?

No, that was different. I only helped them because it helped me, too, and I'm sure they had similar reasons. We weren't friends, we were just some lost souls that got stuck together on a crappy excuse for a ship.

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