PART TWO:

Her hands trembled slightly and she ended up smudging the red lipstick onto her skin. With a tiny sound of dismay, she wiped it off with the handy napkin. Finally satisfied with the way she looked, she ran nervous fingers down her bangs. Although her visage was still pale and drawn, she looked manageable. The black turtleneck sweater and her red leather skirt, gave her a look of quiet confidence.

One she did not feel at the moment.

The silent movement behind her caused her to jump a bit. She was getting too jumpy these days. She had to learn how to relax more often.

“Have you seen my blue-striped tie?”

“I put it in the dresser…the third drawer on the left, yesterday.”

“Hn.”

She watched out of the corner of her eye, as her mate ran impatient hands through the said drawer. She winced as her carefully folded efforts were tossed to the side angrily. He was angry. His entire body was as tense as a bowstring and she wanted nothing more than to loosen them for him. But the last thing he needed was her touch; he had made her quite aware of that.

Last night had been hell to go through. They had lain side-by-side, as stiff as boards, neither willing to break the tense silence.

~ I need you Spike. Please, don’t push me away. ~

Words she would not dare say out loud.

She wished she were dead.

Then she wouldn’t be in the way anymore. She wouldn’t be in the way of his happiness.

Green eyes watched the bustling figure. He was now arranging his papers into his briefcase, his laptop close at hand. On any other ordinary day, she would have made up his tie. She would have arranged his papers. She would have run her fingers through his hair, pecked his nose, slapped or pinched his butt, gotten a similar treatment, tickled to death, tossed onto the bed for an early morning quickie.

// To get my day going, baby. You always get my day going. //

~ Not anymore, I don’t. ~

She got up and trudged to the kitchen, her hands automatically heading for the coffee machine. He would need his coffee…or maybe not.

“Aren’t you going to get your coffee?”

Her hands frozen in its motions as she watched him head straight for the front door.

“I will get one on the way. I am running late as it is.”

“But I thought you hated those outside drinks.”

“I told you, Faye!” Came the snappish reply. “I will get one on my way there! Quit nagging!”

“I am not nagging! I just wanted to make sure that you get your coffee! Is that so wrong now?!”

Brown eyes filled with an emotion that chilled her bones, stared at her blankly. “Everything is so wrong…”

She almost didn’t hear it. It had been so low, that she imagined that he had never said it.

She spun around and made the coffee for herself. Her hands as steady as ever. Her mouth set in a firm line. Her body as rigid as a steel pole.

One full spoon of the bitter tasting powder. Stir into scalding hot water.

She wanted to burn.

~ Make it black. Make it as black as death. Make it as bitter as we are. ~

She stiffened as she felt him approach her, her hands never stopping their swirling movements in the ‘I LOVE YOU’ mug. He smelled of exotic spice and expensive cologne. It made her knees weak….but she held her ground.

“Faye…”

She could feel his hands try to touch her shoulder or her hair or something. She was going to cringe. She knew she would and he would read it the wrong way and he would walk away…and she was going to instigate it.

“Shouldn’t you be leaving for work? You are late enough as it is…right?”

The hand dropped and a sharp hiss of…pain or annoyance? She couldn’t tell, spilled out of those full lips she had kissed and nibbled on a million times over. She did not turn around as the heavy footsteps made their way back to the door.

Oh, she almost forgot the ritual.

“Will you be home for dinner?”

A full minute of silence. ~ Wow…a record… ~

“No…I guess I will be working late today.”

She gave a stiff nod and continued swirling. Faster and faster, the liquid now beginning to slosh onto the pristine tabletop, but she didn’t see a thing. She couldn’t hear a thing.

It was already happening.

The cold draft hit her bare legs as he opened the door. He would be shrugging on his jacket now. She should have been at the front door. She should have been in his arms, never wanting to let go. She should have been spun around and around like a top.

They should have been laughing.

Spike Spiegel spun around to face the rigid back of his mate.

He had to say the ritual.

“You have a good day swe…Faye.”

And not waiting for a reply, he shut the door quietly and headed for the cold streets of the bustling city.

The soft click shook her out of the daydream.

A soft ‘plop’ sound of something wet and cold dropped on her skin.

She blinked in confusion and raised the wet palms to her face. Why wasn’t it hot? She was supposed to feel the heat of the coffee…

She raised the palm to her lips and tasted the salty wetness…

Her tears…