CB: Solitude, -II-

    The building held his doom. I knew it the moment that Jette told me that Spike had once been a Red Dragon. I’ve been to the tower building, I’ve seen the inside of it, all the way down to the chamber where they hold people before they kill them.

    The Chamber the Red Dragon have is old fashioned, there, they kill you executioner style, like in some old pre-Gate disaster movie involving samurai and painted ladies. It chilled me to the marrow, the one time that I saw it, so I’ve put that aside, just like I put aside all my old memories. And the worst part of it all is that I put all of it aside for him, and he doesn’t even care about me.

    I knew he wouldn’t ask me for help, but I couldn’t stand the thought of him going alone. So I followed him. As soon as he left the Bebop, I took off after him. It took me a while to gather together my wits, but once I did, I took off out of the ship.

    I’m sure he would’ve laughed if he knew what my plan was. And how little I had with which to accomplish it.

    In the end, I only made it into the city in time to see the last, big explosion. Worn out with worry, and from running as far as I had to get to the ship that I stole to take me in, I nonetheless took off running for the spot where I was sure he would be.

    Getting into the building was no problem. The ISP hadn’t arrived on the scene yet, they most likely wouldn’t for hours, maybe even days. The syndicate isn’t something the average officer will fool around with. Getting to the top floor was a little harder. Not that anyone left alive was standing in my way, but the path of destruction that Spike left behind him on his way up made following him very difficult. I had to turn a blind eye on a few atrocities he’d committed to get there.

    On the top floor, though, I was greeted with a sight that almost sent me to my knees. My stomach dropped and I felt nauseous all at once. A half circle, a half moon, of Red Dragons stood on the open rooftop, the sunlight just starting to filter down over their shoulders, and stared. I watched, horrified, as Spike… my Spike, even though he chose Julia, a ghost… nothing more than a memory, over me… took a few shakey steps. Noticing me in the back of the crowd, he smiled a little smile, and aimed his fingers in the shape of a gun.

    Whatever gesture he was making was lost, however, as he took a spill, face first, onto the shallow steps. The group of us stood in shock for a long moment, until my senses returned to me.

    Death is a very powerful equalizer.

    Something in me was sure that Spike was dead, as he hit those steps.

    My feet leapt into action, carrying me forward, and I collapsed before him.

    Something else inside me, obviously, refused to believe it.

    “Spike,” I nearly shouted, afraid to touch him, to know for certain that he was no longer among the living. But when he grunted, I couldn’t hold back. I reached forward and put my hands on his shoulders. He was still warm.

    A dying body’s flesh goes cold quickly.

    The words he said in the belly of the Bebop come to mind, ‘I’m not going there to die, Faye. I’m going to see if I was ever truly alive.’ If he wasn’t alive before, he was when I lifted his head to cradle it in my lap.

A/N: Yes, I know it's been done. Everyone that writes a Faye/Spike thing decides that he hasn't died at the end of the last episode, but I tried, at least, to make it a little bit interesting as to how he lives. And besides, this short story isn't intended to be happy ending to a sad one. I just prefer the idea that the metaphor of the tiger striped cat isn't a literal one.