-1Series: Misery Loves Company

Fandom: Cowboy Bebop

Title: Spring, Summer, Winter, Fall

Author: Perverted Priestess 69

Rating: G

She barely paid it any attention, the leaves falling all around her. She really didn't care enough to. And frankly why should she? Faye wasn't suppose to be here. She's not suppose to be filling this space with leaves tracing where she now stand's. She's from another time, another place, living under false pretences. Being a cowboy… cowgirl was just to pay the bills… Those god damn bills, that weren't even hers anyway. Her eyes wander over the sight of flowing water. The reckless loss of memories. Memories that didn't even know her any more. A family that resembles more of a rabble than anything. A portrait made into a century of heartache. Standing alone and knowing there's nothing to be done but watching history chase you.

She was lonely in a away the others would never understand. A way that she hoped little Edward would never experience. When she really thought about the secluded sadness she felt, it was almost as if Ein might really be the only one to truly know where she was coming from. He was the most like her. Forever changed by science, building a family as he went on, choosing to be resolved with the past and trying to rectify a future was enjoyable. Yes… the dumb dog was the most like her, she was resigned to the irony of it all. Just maybe, next time she wouldn't eat up his food from him when the ship went dry out of food. She laughed at how unlikely the scenario was but, maybe, it was possible.

She watched as the stone lion spouted water assuredly from it's mouth. Just a wavering memory rolled over seasons of change while she laid frozen and unchanged. She was immortal to the seasons, the magical beauty of change lost to the unnatural act of saving her from doom. No one ever realized, the one thing she'd truly need saving from was the memory of herself.

END TRANSMISSION…

A/N: I like this one. It has to me a real sense of melancholy. When one tends to fear the truth of who they are or can be one tends to feel the loneliness of their humanity. No matter how long you prolong your life, you're men=ant to die or then what's the purpose of your life? I'm just saying….