Chapter 4
 

                Anna slouched in the tub, shoulders drooping as if carrying a great burden.  The once scalding water was reduced to a lukewarm bath, and the cold air circulating through the vents chilled the droplets of water that clung to her skin in beads.  A violent shiver wracked her body, as she sank lower into the meager warmth of the water.  She idly studied the palms of her hands, remembering how many men she had killed with them.  The same two hands she had used to tuck her two young children into their beds, the same two hands she had used to help her mother when they had worked as night janitors.  Those same loving hands were now perverse and distorted.  Just a year ago, it would have broken her heart to know that the blood of countless others stained her soul.  Now, blood was a familiar and even comforting sight.  Anna stared blankly in front of her as memories surfaced from beneath the haze of her mind.  The blood of her children sprayed against the wall as Syndicate men shot the two little boys.  The blood of her husband pooling around his prone form from the brutal gash in his abdomen.  These things used to make her weep with inconsolable sorrow.  Why can’t I feel anything for them anymore?  What kind of monster am I?  I hate you, Vicious, this is all your fault.  You’ve made me like you.  Anna’s eyes widened at the realization.  I’m the same as him.  It can’t be.  Oh God.  She shook with anger and disbelief.  I’m not going to let you make me the same as you.  Not even if I have to kill myself.  With those thoughts, she plunged her head under the water and breathed in the liquid, letting it fill her lungs before unconsciousness took her.

 

 

                

                “Hey, Spike, go tell the women that dinner’s ready,” Jet hollered to the common room from the kitchen.  

                Spike sighed and walked to Faye’s room.  Peeking in from the doorway, he found only Faye sitting cross-legged on her bed, flipping through a magazine.  She looked up at him with a hint of irritation.

                “What do you want?”

                “Dinner’s ready.  Where’s Anna?”

                Faye shrugged.

                “She said she was going to take a bath, but I’ve been waiting my turn for more than an hour now.  I guess she’s still in there.”

                Spike gave a slight grunt of acknowledgment and turned to walk to the bathroom.

                “Spike?”

                “Yeah?”

                “Is she…all right?  I mean, she seems a little…I don’t know, not all there,” Faye finished a little hesitantly.  

                He paused, a little surprised that Faye had noticed; he hadn’t thought it was that obvious.

“I don’t know if Anna was ever there,” he replied as he walked off.

 

 

 

He stood by the closed door of the bathroom, listening for the sound of water or movement.  Nothing.  A frown touched his lips, as he knocked firmly on the metal door.  A few seconds passed slowly, and still nothing.

“Anna, you in there?” he called through the door.

Nothing.  

“Anna, I’m coming in,” Spike warned as he turned the knob and pushed the door slightly ajar.  

Sticking his head in, he looked around, his eyes moving from her toiletries next to the sink to her shirt carelessly thrown on the counter, then to her pants crumpled on the floor and to her underwear sitting next to the tub.  A pale, slender leg hung over the side of the tub, but oddly enough, the rest of her wasn’t visible.  Aw, shit.  He shoved the door open as he burst into the bathroom and leaned over the side of the tub.  Her face was slightly blue and her lips somewhat agape.  Hastily pulling her out of the water and laying her on the tile floor, he checked for breathing and a pulse.  When he found neither, he started CPR.

“What the Hell is the matter with you?!!” he yelled, his words punctuated by the chest compressions he was administering.  

A minute later, she coughed and sputtered as water dribbled out the side of her mouth.  She blinked a few times, the look of confusion giving way to fear and powerless fury.

“Get away from me, Vicious!” she struggled weakly against Spike’s grip.  

Spike’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and he fought off the urge to punch the woman in front of him.  He dropped her back on to the hard floor, and stood indignantly.  

“Next time you want to kill yourself, do it somewhere else,” he replied coldly as he stalked out of the room.  

Anna swallowed hard as her delusion lifted, and she curled up into a ball on the cold, wet ground.  I did it again.  I hurt Spike again.  

“I’m sorry, Spike,” she whispered.      

 

 

 

Faye entered the galley to find an uncomfortable silence bearing down on the room.  She bit her tongue, and sat down quietly at her place at the table.  The only sounds from the room were Ed’s oblivious coos as she devoured the contents of her own plate.  Ein whined, and Faye could imagine that if the dog had had a tail, it would be between its legs at the moment.

 

“Thanks, Jet-person!!!” Ed yelled happily as she flew from the kitchen, her arms outstretched like the wings of the plane she wasn’t.  

 

It seemed from the way Ein hurriedly followed the eccentric child that he was all too happy to leave.  Faye idly wished that she could do the same, but as the only sane and reasonable one on the ship, she felt a little responsible for maintaining some order.  And so she sat, saying nothing, only picking at her food with her bent fork.  Jet coughed, trying to break the awkwardness of the unnatural hush that had fallen over the table.

“So, uh, why are your clothes wet, Spike?”

Spike looked up from his food at Anna, his gaze intense but unreadable.  

“I accidentally fell asleep in the tub.  Spike found me,” Anna explained, her eyes never leaving Spike’s, daring him to challenge her story.  

“Are you ok?” Faye asked innocently.

“I’m fine,” the blonde answered softly.

Spike snorted and stood abruptly.  Jet and Faye watched him, startled by his sudden movements.  Anna didn’t seem surprised at all.  

“I’m going out for awhile.  Don’t wait up,” he said nonchalantly, throwing his jacket over his shoulder as he walked to the hangar.

“What’s his problem?” Faye asked no one in particular, and no one answered.            

 

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Faye watched as Anna slept restlessly on the couch, the blonde’s body twitching and her face drawn in a pained grimace in response to what no doubt was a nightmare.  There had been something going on between Spike and the strange blonde woman at dinner that evening, and she was determined to find out what it was.    Anna had been on the ship for less than twelve hours, but already, Faye didn’t trust her.  There was just something about her that rubbed Faye the wrong way, but when she saw the young woman in such a vulnerable state, it was hard stay suspicious.  Faye’s scowl lessened as sympathy seeped into her reluctant heart.  She didn’t want to like Anna.  Running a hand through her short, black hair, she stood and walked over to where Anna lay.  She stared at the less than angelic face and her gaze traveled downward until it reached the hem of her sleeve.  An ugly gnarled hand was clenched into a tight fist.  Faye gasped upon seeing the terrible discolorations and protrusions of bone beneath mutilated skin, and recoiled, partly in surprise and partly in revulsion, only to find the table behind her.  She landed on it with a solid thump, her arms and legs splayed ungracefully.

 

Anna opened her eyes and seemed disoriented for a moment, before turning to see Faye.  The expression of horror on Faye’s face was a familiar one, and she felt a lump in her throat as she turned to look down at her own disfigured hands.  Slender fingers opened and curled, knuckles protruding like knots in a rope.  A bitter half-smile touched her lips as she regarded Faye from the corner of her eye.  Retrieving the gloves from their spot on the back of the couch, she pulled them on quickly.  

 

“Sorry.  My hands are kind of sensitive, and the seams of the gloves chafe my skin sometimes,” Anna murmured softly.

 

Faye nodded mutely, and forced her eyes upward to meet the dead ones that stared at the floor.  A pang of guilt stabbed at her, as she saw the hurt Anna tried to hide by looking unconcerned.  Standing up and brushing imaginary dust off her legs, Faye smiled brightly trying to diffuse the tension that had grown in the room.

 

“So…do you want a tour of the ship?  I’m sure that Spike hasn’t shown you around yet, him being a lazy bum and all,” Faye offered as a sort of peace offering, all the while hoping the other would decline.  Please say no, please say no.

 

“No, that’s all right.  I already memorized the layout,” she muttered absently, smoothing her mussed hair, “Tell Spike I’ve gone for a little while when he comes back, will you?” Anna asked quietly as she gathered her coat and gun and made her way to the hatch.

 

“Where are you going?”

 

                “To the park.  I need to think.  Tell Spike I need to think,” she rambled while squeezing her eyes shut and shaking her head slightly as if trying to rid herself of unpleasant thoughts.  

 

                “Ok…” Faye trailed off as she watched the assassin walk away.    

 

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                The acrid smell of cigarette smoke clung to his clothing much like the woman who just couldn’t take the hint.  She seemed unable to understand that he didn’t want to deal with anyone, much less anyone of the female variety.  A feminine giggle and a slender hand straying down his back shook him out of his thoughts.  With a frustrated sigh, he threw a few woolongs on the counter to pay for his drink and walked away from the bar, leaving the indignant whore sitting alone.  

                Why do I do this to myself, Spike wondered to himself.  He knew Anna would be trouble, yet he still let her come to the Bebop.  Maybe it was just his curiosity getting the better of him.  After all, there was a lot she wasn’t telling him, and it wasn’t only about Baxter.  His foot falls resounded against the brick walls surrounding the damp alley, adding to the symphony of yowling alley cats and scurrying rodents.  It was usually dark in this part of town, and the dim light of the cloud-covered sky wasn’t providing much help.  If Julia hadn’t been able to get away from Vicious...  What would you have done, Julia?  Would you be doing the same thing as Anna?  He looked upward, feeling a few raindrops wet his face like the tears that never would.  With a rueful shake of his head, Spike headed towards the Bebop, ready to do more than sit by and watch Anna’s descent into madness.  I’m too nice for my own good.