Disclaimer: I do not own Cowboy Bebop, its characters, or any related paraphernalia.

Thanks for opening the link. Let me introduce myself quickly, I'm NMM and I love Cowboy Bebop. That's all, unless you visit my homepage. But wait! First read the story. Enjoy! : )

On with the story!

MMN CRAZY NMM

There wasn't anything more Faye could do. What else could she have done? Maybe she should've thrown herself at his feet and held him down with whatever strength she had left. But maybe that wouldn't have been enough. Bullets hadn't. And maybe Faye couldn't do anything to begin with. Maybe it would never be her place to do that, for that he had Julia. It was Julia's job to keep him bound. She had to stand seeing him leave.

She struggled to get up and used the wall for support as her knees trembled with anxiety. She moved herself with her hands clutching to the cold metal just to give a step. Her vision was foggy and her head was swarming in pain. Somehow Faye made her way to the room where he had been sitting in while cleaning his gun. She took the same seat and crossed her arms on the table. Her head fell heavily into them and her eyes stung from lack of tears.

Faye felt her gun press against her abdomen and roughly took it out and slammed it on the table. She let her head fall again. She felt a piece of cloth under her cheek and she smelled the scent of gunpowder stuck to its surface. She opened her glazed eyes and saw his glass of liquor sitting besides her, unfinished. He must have been in a rush to die. His words echoed in her head…"I'm not going to die, I'm going to see if I ever was alive."… And she wished that he had never been alive. It would have avoided the knot stuck on her throat, her over-dry eyes, the pain within her that made her insides churn, and the acid taste in her mouth.

She dug her face deeper into the gunpowder scent of the cloth and she could swear she smelt him in there too. But maybe she'd gone crazy and her mind was hallucinating. Faye stared at the glass again and blinked once, twice as she saw a figure reflected on the surface. Her heart leaped and she turned her head quickly to find—nothing. She really was crazy.

Faye let her head fall on her arms again and her hair loosely draped around her neck and face. She stretched her arm and her fingertips thumped the barrel of her gun. She stared at her gun as the sound of the collision echoed in her head. The gun was dull and yet it was brighter than she'd ever expected to see it. She took it in her hands and felt the cold burn her hands as she caressed the barrel. Faye's eyes filled with daze as a slight smile formed on her lips, and she knew exactly why Spike had been able to smile everyday knowing that one day he would end everything.

She opened her mouth and smoothly placed the barrel of the gun in it. Her tongue tasted the bitter gunpowder and her lips froze with the chill of the metal. She held the trigger but as she began to tense her fingers around it her hands shook violently as her lips trembled and dry tears spread from her eyes. Why couldn't she do it! Spike had walked to his death. She could do it. But no. He'd been more of a coward than she. At least she was trying to pull her own trigger. She would willingly stain her hands with her own blood. He couldn't do that. He wasn't 'living,' but was so afraid of death that he'd have someone else pull the trigger for him. That's the way he was, he was full of truth and deceit. And to him life was a quick dream. And Faye couldn't disagree with him more.

Angered, Faye set the gun on the table again. She heaved and dried her tears roughly as her body slouched over the table. She rested her elbows, with the gun in between them, and held her head there. Her mouth was bitter. She cleared her throat and licked her lips tasting guilt and anxiousness and gunpowder. Faye felt disgusting. Her fingers twitched and pulled her hair tight. She needed. Something. Someone. To live. But couldn't. She opened her eyes and saw the gun glistening dimly.

She sighed. The bitter taste would not leave her mouth. She took the glass of liquor and let her lips gently touch the rim. Then she drank slowly, enjoying the ecstasy that came as each drop thundered into her. She didn't breathe; air would contaminate the substance. Faye finally separated the glass from her lips and smiled again. Maybe she needed more of that. She saw a drop of alcohol roll down the side of the glass and before it fell, caught it with the tip of her tongue.

Faye set the glass down and rested her head against her hands again. She closed her eyes hoping that the stinging would stop, but as she opened them the gun was still there, tempting. She took it again and played with it. She cleaned it with the cloth that smelled like gunpowder and Spike. She ran her fingers across the trigger and jokingly placed it on her temple. She pretended to press the trigger and she looped her head down as she said "bang."

She continued to do so for a minute. But after a few times, she placed it against her temple. It stung. Suddenly, it brought everything back. Her eyes filled and poured down her cheeks again. Faye knew there would not be enough alcohol in the world to keep her in an unconscientious stupor. She held the gun firmly against her skin. Her whole body itched and shook again. She was afraid. She heard music from her past. She was nervous. She couldn't understand what she was doing. Maybe she was really crazy. And even as she tried to pull the gun away from her temple, her hand trembled and her fingers continued to tense around the trigger.

MMN To Be Continued NMM

Hello there! If you have got this far, I hope that you enjoyed it. I don't have much to say except the usual, like I fell in love with Cowboy Bebop.

And, please, review. I'm writing in Fan Fiction so that I know what my writing needs to improve on. So, if you tell me what I'm doing wrong, that would be great.

Oh, yeah, I didn't have time to proofread, and you'll find that I never really do. Expect typos once in a while and maybe some grammar and spelling errors.

As for my writing style characteristics, ignore the sentences not being complete all the time, or single word sentences. I mean to do that quite often. And, long run-ons sometimes. I guess it all depends on what I'm trying to achieve. And no, you can't say that is wrong because if Faulkner can write three or more pages without a single punctuation, so can I. (P.S. Faulkner wrote the Sound and the Fury, a book I read in AP English class. He is one of the masters of writing.)

Thanks for reading! See you soon Cowboys and Cowgirls!