Disclaimer: When you read over this and groan at the horrible cliches, remember to thank God that I don't own Cowboy Bebop.

He raised a leaden arm, his eyes flickering, fighting to stave off the darkness a little longer. A lazy grin spread across the critically wounded bounty hunter's face. "Bang," he whispered past the blood filling his throat.

Then, black night fell across his vision.

In the sky, one small glint sparkled, then faded.

Just as the old man told Jet.

But he had not told all…

Gasping for breath, but not daring to stop, Faye Valentine raced up the stairs of the Syndicate building. All floors evidenced Spike's passage – bodies clad in black suits, scattered debris, and a staggering amount of spent cartridges. At the top of the stairs, the door was locked.

Snarling a curse, Faye drew and shot the lock off. The sound of raised voices met her ears; the door opened and a Red Dragon gave a startled cry and died, trying to bring his uzi up. Faye stepped over his body, drawing another pistol. More men in suits turned and stared at her. Violet eyes widened as their gaze fell on a sprawled form near a diadem.

"Spike!" The name left her lips in a scream, the name repeated in her every heartbeat, and the name punctuated every bark of her pistols. At last, they slipped from her hands as she fell to her knees beside Spike, out of targets. She reached out and stroked his bangs with a trembling hand; her vision blurred.

Warmth. On his brow. A hand?

Tears flowed down her face. Faye bit her lip, wincing at the massive amount of blood all over Spike's body. She slipped her hand in his and squeezed gently.

Warmth. In his hand. Another? Who?

"Spike…" A whisper. Bowing her head, she let her hair fall across her face and brush his.

A ticklish touch on his nose. Hair? Julia's? No. The past is gone.

It took a moment for Faye to realize it was not a breeze ruffling her hair. True, Spike blew off most of the roof on this floor, but the night was calm. If that was the case…

Stunned, Faye Valentine saw Spike trying to blow her hair away from his nose. "Spike?"

The way she said his name set the resolution in stone in Spike's mind. He would live. He would live for the future and not for the past.

As his eyes opened and locked with Faye's, she realized he was indeed alive. However, there was no telling for how much longer. That being the case… She hesitated.

Summoning on all he strength, Spike moistened his lips and whispered, "Faye…"

Faye held back no longer. It was astonishing how much stronger Spike felt as her lips met his. Warmth, welcome warmth, drove the cold darkness away from the edges of his vision.

At last, they broke apart as a familiar rumble announced the imminent arrival of the Bebop and a certain Jet Black.

Two weeks later, Faye entered Spike's room to find him standing at the window, watching the stars. His manner belayed any reprimands about his getting out of bed and Faye merely walked over and stood next to him, also peering up at the sky. For a moment, neither said anything.

"My past is gone."

Surprised, Faye looked up at him. His left eye, the eye that looked into the past, was covered by a patch and she could not see the other as he continued to gaze up.

"Mao's dead," he went on. "Anastasia's dead. Then, Julia, Vicious, and Red Dragon. My past is finished. The dream is over." Belatedly, Spike realized he was speaking in riddles.

Faye, however, understood completely. In a way, we are alike. For awhile, we both avoided and feared the past, then faced it. "Any regrets?" she asked softly.

"Julia." Spike sighed deeply, looking down at the city. "Yet, I did what I could and she knew it." His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists. "That's what matters." Turning his head, he smiled at her, light glinting off his good eye. "At least, partly what matters."

Faye's breath caught. "Partly?"

Her answer was Spike reaching out and pulling her close. His breathed teased her hair as he rested his chin on her head gently. "The other part came for me while the past was dying and prevented me from dying with it, Faye Valentine."

Up in the sky, two stars twinkled in tandem. A warrior's star had indeed fallen.

It was his future's star that remained to live on.

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