AN: This is my first attempt at a Cowboy Bebop Fanfiction. I'm an avid Faye/Spike shipper, so expect that to run through this fiction.

Credits and Disclaimers: I don't own Cowboy Bebop, the characters, or the theme. Shackled lyrics by Vertical Horizon – you'll see them throughout the fiction. Inspiration for this fiction comes from my own RPG experiences and She Wanted to Die by Sidewalk Serfer Girl, which is by far my favorite fanfiction.

Beware the rating. When I say R, I mean it. I'm not shy about writing adult situations, sex, violence, etc, and there will probably be a lot throughout the fiction. I cuss a lot when I write too. You've been fairly warned. This will be no pretty fiction. And if you think what I write in this is bad, you haven't seen me roleplay.

Moving on! Please read and review! I hope you enjoy. I've already got the basic plot outlined, but I'm not sure how long it will take to get through. I've already written some of the chapters, but for now, I've only posted the prologue, because I might still edit the chapters I've written.

Thanks! Kajouka

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"I'm not going there to die. I'm going to find out if I'm really alive."

And as I watched him walk away, I felt a gut wrenching pain in my heart. I raised my gun up, but I couldn't bring myself to fire it at him. It would have done little good – even wounded, he would have left, and shooting him would have only given Vicious even more of an advantage. Instead, I pointed my gun at the ceiling, and fired off five shots, more out of frustration, and perhaps because I hoped that he'd turn around, one last time. Turn around and tell me that he'd be coming back for me. Turn around and tell me that he cared. Turn around and say the things I wanted him to say – things I needed him to say. I finally found my place to belong. Was it so wrong to want him to belong there with me?

And then, just like that he was gone, slipped away into the shadows beyond the range of my vision. I leaned back against the wall, trying hard not to rush after him. It would only hurt more if I did. I felt tears welling up in my eyes, but the last thing I wanted to do was let them fall – tears would only provide proof I didn't want that I cared too much about the 'guy with the fuzzy green hair.'

I heard his ship take off, and I could no longer contain myself. The tears began to fall – it was the first time I'd ever cried for him. I figured it would not be the last. I had already given up hope. He was going to die.

They were slow at first, rolling down my cheeks one by one, each following the path the last had taken. Then they came faster, until my eyes were overflowing. I slide down the wall, and wrapped my arms around my legs, trying with all my might to control my shaking body. I didn't want this pain. I didn't ask for it. I cursed myself even as I cried for letting myself care about him. I shouted to the empty hallway that I hated him. That he was a selfish asshole who deserved to go off and die if he was stupid enough to throw his life away. That I didn't need him – in any way shape or form. I yelled these things, as I cried, because I wanted to believe them. I wanted to believe that if I could convince myself that I didn't need him, I wouldn't feel my heart breaking into fifteen million pieces.

But my heart was already broken. Shattered like a glass vase that had fallen from the table top. I could see it in slow motion, and I was trying so hard to reach out and catch it, to stop it before it made it to the hard floor. But I was too late, and the vase hit the ground. Beautiful shards of glass flew everywhere, sparkling in the light as they moved. Beautiful, until they embedded themselves into my body, cutting me to pieces. That's how I felt in that moment. Broken, shattered, and cut into a million pieces.

All because of him.

Finally, the sobbing subsided and I was able to pull myself back up into the standing position. Why had I let him go? Why hadn't I stopped him? Why did he feel the need to find his peace against a man who should have meant nothing to him anymore and yet meant everything? And why wasn't I going after him? We were comrades. We still are comrades.

Resolving that I would find a way to follow him, I turned and walked into the living room. I was relieved to find that Jet was not there – had he been he would have heard my screams – hell, he might have heard them anyway. I decided I didn't care. I rushed up the stairs and headed for the one place I figured Jet would be – the observation deck.

I was right. He was there, cleaning the windows as though the Bebop was his prized possession and any speck of dirt would taint it. "Jet," I said, "The window is clean enough."

He turned around, and I could see the pain he was trying to mask. "I'm trying to get this place clean, since we're stuck here until I can order the parts we'll need."

"Screw the ship, Jet," I shot back. "He's going to die, unless we go after him." I crossed my arms. I wanted him to know I was serious. I didn't care that my face was probably red, my eyes were puffy, and my nose was running. I didn't care that my makeup was probably smudged down my face and smeared across my cheeks. I only cared – for once in my life – about getting him back alive.

"I told you before, Faye, he's dealing with his own demons. This is his fight, not ours." Jet turned back around and began to scrub the window again.

I stormed up to him and ripped the cloth out of his hand, tossing it behind me. I could have cared less about the damn windows. "Fuck that Jet. We're a team. We've had to help each other to stay alive, and this situation, regardless of his fucking reasons, is no different. If you don't go with me, I'll take your damn zip and I'll go myself."

"You can't drive the Hammerhead, Faye." Jet replied his voice even, although I could tell he was just as ready as I was to go.

"I don't care. I'll try. I have to try, Jet." I pleaded, letting the façade of my normally hard exterior drop. Jet had to understand how important this was to me. I wasn't even sure if I understood why it was so important, but I could figure that out later. It wouldn't matter if he died.

Jet seemed to take a long time to consider my request. I thought I'd die waiting for him to think it through in his careful way. I knew he was weighing the pros and the cons and trying to make a rational decision. "We don't have time for this, Jet." I finally blurted out, and turning around, I headed for the exit.

"Faye, I'll take you. But I'm not going to interfere with what he's trying to do." Jet finally said, and I heard his footsteps behind me. I didn't bother to answer him. I knew what I had to do, and no one was going to stop me.