Sister, I Ain't No Saint

Author's Commentary: I had a Cowboy Bebop (Edward) fanfic up some time ago that everyone fell in love with. The only problem was I had developed a holey plot and shitty backstory so I had to go in, delete it and redo. Hope you like it. Please review.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything besides the characters I invented. Everything else, including the brilliant Edward, belongs to genius S. Watanabe.

Session One
Just Another Ordinary Day

There is an extraordinary narrow belt on the face of planet Earth that runs north and south where no meteoroids hit. The debris that floats in planet Earth's thermosphere does not float in or around this belt and as of late, many 'aliens' have been returning to colonize this belt. Well, that's what the locals call em'—aliens. The locals were people who'd been living on planet earth for the past 50+ years after the Hyper Gate Accident.

Most were older now—men and women who had been apart of the world before its romanticized Luna came crashing down on it. Now this "world" was nothing but a forgotten planet in the colonized Solar System—forgotten by its people because they could not remember their past. Everything had been destroyed. So those who had survived the horrible incident moved into space in fear of rising seas, crumbling continents and moon debris crashing into their houses. But those with strong wills refused to leave. They were the ones who remembered life before the Hyper Gate Accident. They were the ones unwilling to give up their ancient, dying ways.

So in this belt, those left to survive for themselves formed small colonies. Three majors ones were well known and supplied by the ISSP and Martian Government so planet Earth's people could function. The first and most populated was Roselle Gardens—a misleading name since the place had no gardens and the Roselle Family had nothing to do with it. The second is Pyro's Vineyard—also a misleading name since no one there was a pyromaniac and there were no vineyards. The third is Conte Island. The eldest man there was 108 and said the place was once a Japanese island.

Inland of the waterfront colony of P.V.'s about fifty miles sat a very small, very insignificant outpost where mail and busy miners ran through whenever men and women moved about through the belt. It had been named Sri Rashid after the first man who died there—a scientist who had been apart of constructing the Hyper Gate. Sri Rashid had only seven buildings: a post office, a bar, a practioneers', a good's store, a taxidermist/hotel, and a Catholic Church. They all were lined up on the only street in Sri Rashid—Clover Lane, which ran only north and south.

The street had been paved with cement and was connected to three of the highways in the belt so travelers could come and rest when needed.
Clover Lane reminded many of its residence of the old western movies they annually watched on special occasions. The dusty, hot desert towns where the sheriff slumbered on a porch and a cowboy walked up and down the street. But instead of a sheriff, there was the practioneer, Dr. Zossimov, always looking for clientele and instead of a cowboy there was the outpost's stray dog, Chewy, who lived under everyone's porch.

On the outskirts of Clover Lane lived the residents of Sri Rashid. There were only eleven families and everyone knew everyone. Most worked outside of Clover Lane—some on the expanding highways the Martian Government was funding and others in the mines and different colonies outside of Sri Rashid.

Only a handful were sharecroppers.

But only one was a hacker.

Our Lady of Saint Olaf was a tiny, rundown Catholic Church. Inside consisted of twenty-four benches, a leveled pulpit, a speaker's stand and a crucifix and four foot bronze statue of the Virgin Mary and other religious items. No one in Sri Rashid was zealot—religion had dried out of their veins decades ago—but most of Rashid's patrons and visitors paid their respects anyway to the building by donating because the church had been built single-handedly by four people.

These four were the priest, the two nuns, and one choir boy. All were alive and kept the place neat and running with their donations.

Occasionally, men and women would come inside the church to sit and relax. Though Sri Rashid was already a quiet town, the tranquility that many found inside the building reminded them of those ancient, massive cathedrals where candles were lit and the choir who sang in Latin were always on pitch. There were candles lit in Saint Olaf on the walls. The worn red and purple striped wallpaper was wearing thin and the benches had no backs so no support for the sitter. And the choir boy, Young Goodman John didn't have the loveliest voice but he could play the piano beautifully. But still, those who did visit didn't mind.

Like, Senex Popov-Svidzinksaia, or Old Man Senex. He didn't mind sitting erect as he meditated.
Father Olav, the priest whose presence was always near, had noticed the old man visiting the church everyday now. He would come when the church doors were open, at dawn, and sit in the same spot: Row 8 on the left-hand side, and meditate. Old Man Senex would sit their for an hour then leave without a word to the nuns or the choir boy.

When the Nuns told Father Olav of their visitor, the man began to think that perhaps they could gain a committed member. Perhaps the old man would start attending Mass. Then it wouldn't be just the Father preaching to the Nuns, Goodman John, and the drunkard on Row 24 who stumbled in, unintentionally.

Father Olav decided that that Wednesday morning, he would wake up with the sun and ask the old man if he would join their congregation.

Like the Sisters had said, Old Man Senex was sitting in the middle of the 8th Row, silent, with his head titled down. From a distance, he appeared to be asleep. But when the father drew closer, he saw the old man had tears in his eyes.

"Good morning." Father Olav whispered.

Old Man Senex looked up. Yes, he was crying. But he didn't try to hide his tears. Senex had a rectangular shaped head and was very tan. His skin was wrinkled and dry from working in his fields, and he was hunched over a bit in his old age. On his head he wore a purple sun hat with a wide brim to keep the rays out of his failing eyes. He had the nose of a bird and the wide mouth of talker. Yet, he remained speechless as Father Olav approached.

"I hope I am not intruding, brother." Father Olav whispered, "I—I was hoping to ask you a very important question."
Old Man Senex stared with his mouth agape. His eyes were set deep into his skull as they glistened with tears.
"It—it is not like me to interrupt a man's meditation. I know it is a very important part of your day—I too meditate." Apologized the Father, "And fast and pray. But I was wondering, Mr. Popov- Svidzinksaia, if you would like to join this church as a member?"
Old Man Senex began to fix his mouth to speak. But before he could, Father Olav pulled out a leaflet, and began to speak rapidly with some nervousness, "My sermons are only thirty minutes long, and then we have a selection by the choir boy, Goodman John. Often the Sisters do their Hail Mary's in the morning—you can join them if you like. Service usually starts around 8 A.M., so you have the rest of your Sunday to enjoy your family. We also take up offering, dedicate babies, and hold bible study on Tuesday nights at 7— though that can be rearranged if you don't finish tilling your fields until 9. We also have—"

"Father." Old Man Senex interrupted, taking the man's hand. Father Olav stopped speaking as the Old Man fixed his mouth to speak. He held his hand, staring off at the statue of the Virgin Mary which stood at the altar's feet.

"I am dying Father. I am dying."
Father Olav's heart trembled in disappointment. Another potential member lost to death.
"And I am worried." Senex said, and then looked the priest into his eyes, "Do you have confession, Father Olav, here?"
"Why yes…" Father Olav said, "We do."

"Do we have to go into the booth?"
"No. we can do it here. I can sit beside you if you'd like."
Old Man Senex nodded as the priest took a seat next to him. Both men faced the Virgin Mary statue, in respect to the tradition of not looking the confessor in the face and not looking the priest in his honest eyes.

"I am dying a slow death. Deteriorating. And I am afraid to die." Old Man Senex said his voice raspy and winded, "I went to Pyro's Vineyard to visit a specialist after Dr. Zossimov was unable to help me. He said I will die before the summer ends. I am afraid to die Father… but I am also afraid of what will happen to my family after I am gone."
Father Olav closed his eyes imagining such a thing. He had dealt with families in mourning and saw how death was both devastating for them but rather a release for another.
"My wife… she is old. She is a hag. She will die a widow. We have scratched and saved over the past 50 years just so she will be taken care of when I die. It is… just enough money to keep her going. But my daughter…"
This is where Father Olav heard the old man's heart break. He was speaking of the redheaded girl Father Olav had seen skipping down Clover Lane many times since her arrival.

"My daughter… she will be left with nothing but pain. I cannot allow her to see me die… she is so innocent. It would destroy her world."

"She is my lily in the valley, my only child. She is young and naïve… if I am to die, the world will swallow her. What am I to do Father? What am I to do?"
Father Olav glanced at the old man seeing tears running down his face. He was asking more for his advice than confessing any sin. Father Olav placed his hands on his knees and rubbed them, tilting his head down to think.

"You pray."
Father Olav waited for the Old Man to reply but heard nothing. That was all the advice he could give. Hell that was the only advice he could give. He was neither a medicine nor a balm. He wasn't a great orator and he sure didn't have the best advice to give people. So he always said, "You Pray."
Yet, that seemed to be enough for the old man. He nodded, agreeing with the priest as his tears dried up.

"I pray. A lot now. When the Hyper Gate Accident happened—I prayed. Almost every hour."
"Praying is good. God answers prayers."
"You, Father… you are a messenger of God?"
Father Olav did not know how to answer this but nodded, "I speak to him sometimes… I hear his voice."
"Is his voice manly?"
"…I am afraid so."
"What does he tell you?"
"He tells me things. He reassures me."

Old Man Senex raised his eyes, locking them with Father Olav. The eyes of a dying man were so sad and empty. Father Olav's eyes were honest and deep. "So when you talk to him again, can you ask him to save my daughter?"

"…I will try."
"To bring her happiness before I am dead… to take her away from here."
"I will try."

"I want her to be happy."
"She shall."
The old man seemed content with these answers and stood up slowly. He stared at the statue before he left, leaving the priest in an awkward situation.

AN: I always imagined Senex as Buster Keaton in his last film "Something Funny Happened on the Way to the Forum". Read and review.