And now.

The star fell, and now you're gone. You knew we would have helped you; we would have fought with you; we would have died for you. It seems like I already have.

I knew it would happen, and I hate myself for it. For letting it happen. For caring that it did. For not understanding the end. Such a foolish, selfish reason to die, for the past. You told me that, and then did it yourself. I believed you. I still do.

You told me your feelings, vivid and sharp. They were to be explanation enough. But they weren't; it's not. I wanted less; not you bearing your soul, piercing me with your emotions as you left. I want more; your whole past. I want to fill myself up with every detail, let them resonate with the dull ache inside me. I want to analyze you, and categorize you, and impersonally file you away. But instead all I have is your sparks of personality, blazing memories that burn my soul away, little by little, as it ashes into nothingness. Soon I'll be gone, but no one will mourn for me.

All I ever wanted was a group to belong to, a place to return to. And despite everything, I found it with all of you. It was something less than camaraderie; something more than love. Family, perhaps, that feeling when you find a group of people that you don't want to be with, and can't stand to be without. You feel comfortable showing them your foibles, your weaknesses, and knowing that they won't exploit them. Telling them your fears, and knowing they will care. Concealing your secrets, and knowing they won't ask. It was my place. You were my place.

And now it's gone; just two empty people alone together. He and I cling together, bonded through shared loss, but it is only a matter of time before we drift apart... until he leaves me as well. And then I'll be left alone. Again.

Ironic, isn't it? I spent so much time searching for my lost past, and once I find it, I lose my present. It would almost be funny if it weren't so sad.

I would almost be funny if I weren't so sad.

And so, I guess you caught me after all. You were always a better cowboy than I liked to admit. And I've always hated to lose.

So, here's to you, space cowboy. You, the hypocritical, selfish, stubborn, courageous fool. You and her, the devilish angel and the angelic devil together again. Perhaps I will meet you, meet you both again, soon.

And then again.

I hate shooting stars.

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Cowboy Bebop (c) Sunrise Inc, Bandai Entertainment