Disclaimer:  I do not own Cowboy Bebop or any of the characters. Cowboy Bebop copyright 1998 Emotion, Sunrise Inc., and Bandai Visual Co. limited

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A/N: I would just like to thank all of you who read and reviewed my last fic.  I decided to write this one for all of you.

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The thunder crashed overhead as I walked through the empty cemetery.  It was just me and the dead.  The rain was falling down on my head as if it wanted to pound me into the ground.  Oh, how I missed him.  *Damn it, Spike! *  I thought.  *Why did you have to get yourself killed? *  I hated him for it.  I hated him almost as much as I hated myself for not doing more to stop him from leaving.  *I didn't want you to tell me about yourself…Why did you have to tell me?  You'd never done it before. *  I kept walking until I found it.  It was his headstone.

I knelt down in front of it, not even caring about my clothes getting muddy.  The inscription was short and sweet, just like Spike would have wanted it.  It said, "Goodbye, Cowboy".  That was it.  Nothing claiming that he was a prince among princes.  Nothing that said he was a beloved brother or son or even friend.  Spike wasn't a prince among princes.  Even I knew that.  I loved him with all my heart, but he wasn't that kind of a guy.  He was a rough, tough guy.  He was the cool, calm guy who could deal with anything.  He was even the asshole, but he was never a prince.  That term just seemed too sissy-like for him, and Spike was definitely not a sissy.

He was a beloved friend and colleague.  I was even pretty sure that he had family somewhere, even if I didn't know where, but I don't think he would have wanted them putting that on his tombstone.  He had this thing about not wanting to be mourned by his loved ones.  *Well, Spike, * I thought, looking down at the earth above him, *we wouldn't have to cry if you had stayed. *

"Faye," a voice from behind me called.

I lifted my head and turned to see the tall, gruff man standing three rows back.  "Alright.  I'm coming, Jet," I said, wondering if those were tears going down my face or if it was just the rain.  I knew some of the moisture was tears, but I didn't want to admit it to myself.  I couldn't cry over him.  He had gone and got himself killed and that was his own fault.  I shouldn't have to deal with the pain.  Then again, I shouldn't have fallen for him in the first place, so I guess that that was my fault.  Damn it.

I walked over to Jet, knowing that we would be leaving, and we would probably never come back.  I knew that I most definitely would not be able to stand knowing that I was in the place of Spike's death.  I cursed him again.  How could he have gotten so close to both of us only to leave?  What right did he have to leave us behind so that he could confront his past?  Wasn't he the one that told me something about letting go of the past?  I couldn't even think straight anymore.  My head hurt and I was beginning to think that all the crying was getting to me.

We made our way back to the Bebop.  I wasn't really sure, but I think I was actually happy to see it, or it may have just been that anything was a release from the pain of losing Spike.  *Losing Spike? *  I scoffed.  *I never had Spike in the first place.  I don't think anybody did. *  That was the plain truth.  I was beginning to wonder if even his beloved Julia had truly had him.  Sure he loved her and would do anything for her, but did she really have all of him?  I honestly didn't care.  I didn't want to know about the love of Spike's life when I had never been given a chance.

The living room was empty and devoid of life.  I sat down on the couch and flipped through the different TV programs.  There was nothing good on, like always.  I didn't really care though.  I left the channel and some show with a weird boy trying to get away from these five beautiful women who obviously wanted to sleep with him.  What a strange show.

"Don't you have something better to do?"  I could almost hear Spike's voice, trying to get rid of me yet again.

Of course not, my dear Spike.  I have nothing better to do than to sit here and think of you.  I wouldn't have to do this if you hadn't of left us.

I felt the tears spring up in my eyes again.  Damn him!  I choked them back, and sniffled a little.  I had cried enough over him already.  I didn't need to be crying any more.  It was just that the whole place was so quiet.  I couldn't even hear Jet.  He was probably watering his bonsai trees.

"Hey, Faye-Faye!"  Ed's voice rang.  Jumping, I turned towards the sound and was greeted by the sight of an empty chair.  Just another illusion from my back stabbing brain.

                I needed to get out of that room.  I needed to do something.  The memories were just so strong that I couldn't stand them.  I couldn't stand being in that room a moment longer.  Standing quickly, I half-trotted towards the door.

                "Ed!  Don't do that!"  I heard Spike's voice again.  Turning back, I was suddenly flooded by the memory of Ed bouncing all over Spike and begging him to get her "something good".  She almost never left the ship, and always asked for a good souvenir.  I suppose that she just wanted to not take the risk of being kidnapped or something like that.  I could just see Ed hugging Spike's neck and rubbing her face on his.

                "Spike-Spike," she half sighed.  She seemed so content at that moment.  I remember wishing that I could just do that.  I remember wishing that I could just wrap my arms around Spike and never let him go.  Maybe I should have.  Maybe I should have grabbed hold and never let him go to that "show-down".  If I had, I probably wouldn't be crying right now.

                The memory left me just as quickly as it had come and all I could hear was the sound of Spike's voice whispering.  It was this memory that made me break down.  I saw the floor come up before I realized that my knees had just given out underneath me.  The tears streamed down my face in a hot rush of anguish, but I could still hear his voice saying, "Somebody once said that 'of all the sad words of tongue or pen: the saddest are these; "It might have been"'."