gwenogjones
Scooby
One Night in a Bar on Deadwood
January 19th 2517: The Rim
Spike signalled the bartender, getting his attention by waving two fingers in his direction. "Another glass of Ng-Ka-Pei, mate," he said. The shot was poured, the glass slid across to him. He caught it, a little of the brown liquid spilling over the top, wetting his fingers. He tutted, threw the bartender a disgusted look and then dried his hands on his shirt.January 19th 2517: The Rim
Then he wrapped both hands around the glass and nursed it, not drinking. Today was a rough day. He had them. He shouldn't keep count, the old days meant nothing out here - the months, the years… constructs of a world long gone, which revolved around a sun left far behind. But still he kept count and - by his reckoning - today was January 19th … she'd be 536 today.
He smiled, sadly, and stared down into the murky depths of his drink. He remembered her 21st: them getting stuck in the house, him flirting shamelessly - delighted to be getting away with it right under her friends' noses. And her 20th, when he hadn't been invited, but had taken along a crumpled box of chocolates anyway. And of course - her disastrous 17th - no one could ever forget that one. God she had been so young. God so had he been - relatively speaking.
He slipped his hand inside his coat pocket and brought out the photo he kept there - a relic of an era lost to the sands of time. Looking at this … it was like looking at a woodcutting back in her day, it was an ancient artefact, a museum piece. But it was all he had of her now - taken from her basement and hidden in his crypt since before he had his soul. Now it was so faded, the colour was all bleached out, her image was faint; drained of detail. But still he stared down at it, his eyes drinking her in as if he was dying of thirst and could never quite get his fill. Today was a bad day.
...
"I'm sure the doctor'll be happy to fix you up real pretty when we get back on the ship," Mal told him.
They teetered and tottered their way a few steps further into the bar, people began to look.
Jayne grunted. "What's in this gorram thing anyway?"
"That aint our place to know."
"Guy busts his back, he wants to know what he's doin' it for."
"I'll tell you what we're gorram doing it for," Mal was starting to sound angry. His face was growing red, though that might have just been the exertion of the heavy lifting. "We're gorram doing it so we can afford to buy a gorram compression coil for our gorram engine. Kaylee's been at me for months. Now you wanna move to a nice little central planet, settle down, have yourself a few sprogs, start obeying the law and followin' the rules then say the word - we drop this right now and go about our separate business, as respectable alliance citizens. But if you wanna keep Serenity flyin', then we deliver this package. We're bein' paid to move this cargo to this crappy, Rim planet and hand it over to a fella goes by the name of Sanderson Wilkes. We are not bein' paid to ask questions or go around stickin' our gorram noses where they might just get put outta joint."
"Hell, what's yanking your chain?" Jayne asked him, riled up by the captain's annoyance.
"I'm just a little bit tired of the disrespect around here."
"He's just cranky 'cause Inara found herself a client out here on Deadwood," Kaylee told Jayne, over her shoulder. She was grinning in mischievous delight. "He keeps us out here on The Rim 'cause he thinks she won't find anybody - but she always gets the better of him."
"Kaylee just -" Mal was looking even more annoyed, "keep the doctor and his sister out of the way while we're doin' business."
She gave him a knowing smile, and then led Simon and River towards the bar.
"Where we supposed to meet this Wilkes, sir?" Zoe asked. She alone was not showing the strain of carrying the crate, or complaining about it. Her stern, soldier's face rarely gave anything away of what she was feeling, her stoicism was a big part of why Mal valued her so deeply. Everyone else always had to backchat - Zoe could follow orders.
"Said he'd let us know how to find him…'
They suddenly found themselves surrounded by rough looking men pointing guns at them. "I'd say he found us," Mal said.
"You Malcolm Reynolds?" One of the heavies asked.
"Who wants to know?"
"We work for Mr. Wilkes," he leered at Mal, his teeth were yellow and crooked, "and Mr. Wilkes would like to know if you're Malcolm Reynolds."
"Captain Malcom Reynolds is me, yeah."
"Then come this way," the guns were lowered, and the men began to lead the four of them towards the back of the bar, where a curtain hung between the saloon and the room behind.
"No it's fine - don't offer to help carry this tá má de zhóng thing," Wash called after them. They ignored him and led the crew behind the curtain.
They staggered through the ratty curtain. It did nothing to block out the sounds of the bar, but now the rest of the saloon was no longer visible. 'You can put the crate down right there,' a deep and cold voice said to them.
Groaning with relief, they lowered the crate onto the ground and then turned to face Sanderson Wilkes, to negotiate their payment. Wilkes was sitting behind a desk, it's surface was worn and scuffed - the wood was old, this was a Rim planet and shiny things were hard to come by. It was piled high with papers and illuminated by one dim bulb hanging directly overhead. It threw dark shadows right the way across the back room and etched deep lines into Wilkes' face. He was a big man, his jaw was strong and powerful, his hairline was receding and his eyes were steely. He smiled at them, though it wasn't friendly.
"Did you look in the crate?" He asked.
"No sir, we were not paid to look - we were paid to courier."
"You're a good man, Reynolds," the smile came again, slippery and dangerous as ever. "It would have been more than your life's worth to look inside."
"Well we don't want no trouble."
"Neither do I, a trouble free life - isn't that all everyone wants in the end? A quiet corner of the sky to call their own…"
"It's all I've ever been looking for."
"Then you were wise not to look. That there," he pointed at the crate, "is probably the biggest piece of trouble you've ever had on that clapped out boat of yours."
Mal kept his face impassive. "Oh… I'm not so sure about that, sir." He thought about Simon and River - and hoped that the two actual biggest pieces of trouble he'd ever taken on board were managing to keep a low profile out in the main taproom.
...
"Is that a bad thing?" Kaylee asked.
He opened his mouth to say 'yes' and then closed it quickly, remembering she came from some small rock of a place, smaller even than this one. "It's just … different," he said in the end, giving her a lopsided smile, "to what I'm used to. It isn't where I ever expected to be in my life."
"You thought you'd be right there in the centre, the star doctor of the alliance, in big cities on fancy worlds - right by the White Sun."
"That's the way it was all mapped out, for me - ever since I was little."
"Right," she smiled at him, her nose crinkled a little in the middle. "But didn't you ever find it too uptight? Or Proper? Too straight laced?"
"I - uh," he breathed a self deprecating laugh, "I guess I am pretty straight laced."
Kaylee shook her head, she was smiling too. "You might surprise yourself… but for me, a place like that? No way. I'd find it suffocatin'. Oh sure I'd like the luxuries: the strawberries and the fancy clothes, don't ever get much opportunity to put on somethin' pretty out here in the black … but after a while?" Her smile became dreamy, "I'd need to fly. To be free. All that dust, all that grime, meal after meal of canned protein product - it's worth it all for the freedom."
"Freedom. Right. That's not - uh - that's not really a word I'd use to describe my life as a fugitive from alliance forces."
"You gave everythin' up for love. I guess I hope there's somethin' out here that can make it all up to you."
"Well," he leaned closer to her and tried to smile flirtatiously, "there is maybe one or two things that make the black less ...black."
"Like what, Dr. Tam?"
"Like…" he suddenly realised something, and looked up - scanning the bar anxiously. "Where's River?"
...
Spike snapped out of his reverie and looked up into the face of a young woman who had somehow crept up beside him without him even noticing.
"How's that, pet?"
"The girl in the picture - she's a long way from here."
"You could say that." He stared at this curious girl, there was something about her - she could see more than other people. She reminded him of someone.
"You left her behind." She was making statements, not asking questions.
"In a manner of speaking. All though, from another perspective, you could say she left me behind." He picked up his drink and drained it, at last, slamming the empty tumbler back down on the bar. "It's all about how you look at the glass."
"Maybe it's all about how the glass looks at you."
He tilted his head to one side and stared at her some more. It clunked into place, who she reminded him of - her childlike manner, the way she saw things. "You're completely sack of hammers, aren't you, love?" He said to her. She ducked her head low, biting her lip. "Oh no," he said, his voice soft, rushing to make her feel better, "don't worry about it - I used to date a girl who wasn't all there. It's the thing I miss most about her."
"She was a killer."
"She was," Spike agreed.
"And so were you."
"...Yeah."
"Until they changed you." It was the girl who tilted her head now, staring at Spike. "Tin soldiers put funny little knick knacks in your brain - can't hunt, can't fight, can't kill. The alliance gave you a chip."
He chuckled. "Not the alliance, pet - it was a bit before their time."
But the girl shook her head, adamant. "It was always the alliance, they've always been around. One way or another. Even back on the earth that was. It's where they started. Where they did their first tests … on you." Her head was hung low again, her voice became a deep mutter. "Their tests got worse. They did worse. Hurting people. Hurting girls. Hurting me. They get in your head and they make you different to how you were - so you can't remember, can't go back. You think you can but…" She shook her head again, "who you were is lost forever. The pain has trained you into someone new. Turned you into who they want you to be - turned you into something they can use and they hunt you down and don't ever want you to escape."
She looked up and stared directly into Spike's eyes. He was mesmerised, listening to her. "They started with you … they were called something different then, but they started with you. You escaped. Like me. They hunted you. Like me…and she saved you. The girl in the picture. And now she's lost."
"Yeah, that's…" he swallowed. "That's how it happened."
"You were a monster." There wasn't any judgement in her voice, like before she just stated it, as simple fact. "The alliance started you on the path that turned you into a man. That's what they do - they take you and twist you and make you into something else. I was just a girl when they took me … what am I now?"
"You look just like any other girl to me, love," Spike said gently.
"I'm not."
"Well … you're a bit more crazy."
She giggled, her whole face lit up and she suddenly both looked and sounded so painfully young.
"River," a young, worried looking man suddenly appeared at the girl's elbow, "what have I told you about wandering off and getting lost?"
"I wasn't lost, I know exactly where I am. Slim Jim's bar and saloon, West Quarter, Cricklefield, the desert planes, Deadwood, seventh planet of the Blue Sun, The Rim, the 34 Tauri Solar System, the verse."
"Right," the man looked uncomfortable and started to tug at her elbow, "well that's good to know, let's get you back to your seat - I'm sure you've troubled this nice gentleman long enough."
"I wasn't troubling him."
"She's right - she wasn't," Spike said.
"He's sad tonight."
The young man coughed and looked even more uncomfortable, "well, I'm sure you cheered him up,' and he pulled her away back to their seat. Left alone, Spike flagged down the bartender and ordered another drink.
...
The curtain was pushed back and the crew, well paid for once, entered back into the bar. "I'm thinking celebratory drink," Mal said. "As long as the others didn't get into no trouble while we were gone." There would be a while yet before Inara returned to Serenity, and he didn't feel much like pacing up and down and wondering what she was getting up to while they waited for her.The bar was quiet; no one was fighting; there was no alliance this far out from the centre; a solitary man sat at the counter and drank alone; Kaylee, Simon and River were seated in a corner, having seemed to attract neither trouble nor attention. The crew joined them, ordered drinks and settled down.
...
"He just worries about me."
"Because you're past midnight on the crazy clock?... Or because you're on the run from the alliance?"
"Both… you gonna report that you saw me?"
He gave her a look, "what do you think?"
"I think you like it out here on The Rim. I think you find it simpler. The central planets, they're so busy, so many rules, all that security … it's easier to live on the edges when you don't belong."
"Civilisation is only for the civilised," he agreed.
"There's a big price on my head. Could buy you a lot of Ng- Ka- Pei."
"Is that a fact?"
"Could buy you a place in the central planets, give you a name and a place, an identity - you wouldn't have to hide out here. At least - not for five decades or so. You know, not until they start asking questions about why you aren't dead yet."
"And the price of fifty years of living with the swanky bastards on their upscale rocks would just be selling out one defenceless, young girl to the evil empire hunting her down… I'll give it a pass. But thanks for the offer."
"She still thinks of you, you know," River said, abruptly.
"what?"
"That's what I came over here to say. She still thinks about you - where she is now, she's waiting. She thinks about you both."
"Us both?"
"The other one," she giggled again, looking impossibly young once more. "She calls him - your soul mate."
"Oh," he snorted in disgust, "him."
"She loves you both - she wanted me to tell you that," she turned to walk away.
Spike looked troubled. "Is this a skill you've always had, pet? Talking to the dead?"
River turned round, she was frowning now. "Buffy's dead?" she asked, sounding confused. They stared at each other for a moment, both of them surprised … and then Simon called to River, the strain evident in his voice once more, and she headed back to the crew.
...
The saloon doors opened inward, just as the crew were leaving - a tall and handsome man walking into the bar past the exiting group. Zoe gave him a very appreciative look. Wash caught it and gave her an injured look. And she gave him an innocent one in return. And then they were outside, and headed back to the ship - where Inara was due back any minute.At the bar, Spike looked up and saw the other man enter. Here he was: tall, dark and forehead, his soulmate - apparently, his only reflection. He was never too far away. "I thought I might find you here," Angel said, sliding up onto the bar stool beside the other vampire. "I've got us passage - on a creaky old firefly, spoke to their Shepherd - don't know why they got a Shepherd, but they'll take us on from here - to wherever they're going next. We gotta hurry."
"Right," Spike sounded glum, "'cause we wouldn't want to miss the next crappy transport to the next crappy world on the very edges of The crappy Rim, whiling away eternity out in the black."
"Well … do you wanna stay on Deadwood?"
The blonde vampire sighed and shook his head. "No - there's nothing here… there's nothing anywhere. 70 plus worlds and they're all the same, deep down. Oh some are more refined; have fancier manners and softer sheets; less dust; dreaming spires of shiny chrome and metal, but every earth is the same if you just scrape away the crust … and none of them are as good as the real one. Maybe we should have stayed there."
"It got used up, there was nothing left."
"So we left it behind. Left everyone behind."
Angel felt the familiar pang as he thought of Cordy and Wes and the rest. And Connor. 500 years and he couldn't think of his son without the grief tearing at his unbeating heart. "We had no choice. We're eternal - we have to … move with the times. No matter what they bring."
"Right, vampires in space - a wacky sitcom idea if ever there was one."
"At least we can go out in the sun out here."
Spike sighed heavily again, "yeah."
Angel looked worried. "Listen. We gotta hop on that firefly - are you sure you're OK?"
'Yeah … it's just - it's been a bad day." Before he got down from his stool and followed Angel out of the bar, he took the faded photo from his pocket one last time. "Happy Birthday, pet," he said, softly. She stared back at him; faded and frozen in time and impossibly young, just like that other strange girl. His heart feeling heavy, he put the picture away and trailed after Angel, ready to while away the next 24 hours of eternity.
The End
