A/N:  First off, this is NOT a drabble.  It is a CHAPTER that was carefully planned and thought out, and if you read it slowly, you will understand it.

Secondly: there is some religious symbolism, etc. in here.  Take it with a grain of salt. 

Thirdly: The rating IS subject to change.  In fact, in one or more chapters, it will be changed from PG-13 to R. 

Disclaimer:  Witch Hunter Robin does not belong to me.  End of story.

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Chapter 1: Forgive Me

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Bright

Bright

Bright

BURN

Lord have mercy.

Bless me father, for I have sinned.

Christ have mercy

It has been one month since my last confession…

Lord have mercy.

Father, I have sinned…

Perhaps in time they will forget. 

Perhaps the wounds will heal.

Perhaps the blood will pay the debt

Perhaps again I'll feel.

Supposing the world…was to end tomorrow.

Instead of asking,

"What is the point of my existence?"

They will beg:

"Let me exist."

She liked to watch people, he noticed.  She would observe the step of this person; mentally comment on the way this person was slowly meandering down the street, how the next person seemed to be sad, or happy.

He could see it in the way her curious eyes watched, hidden under long dark lashes.  With the tilt of her head he knew that she was happy, with the twisting and fidgeting of her hands he knew she was worried.  He wondered if she, too, could tell what he was thinking.

But no.

Not thinking, was it? 

She was as much a mystery to him as when he had first met her.  No.  He could never see her thoughts, her intentions.  Perhaps, then, it was her feelings.  The emotions that she let through her shroud of mystery.

Perhaps.  He wondered, sometimes, if she did it on purpose.  As if she knew that if she showed she was still human, he would not be afraid.  But he was still cautious.  Not because of her Craft. 

No. 

He was afraid of her for a different reason entirely.

Sometimes he caught himself watching her, and wondered if she could tell.  Perhaps she watched him, as well?  Was she carefully observing his actions, preserving them in her memory, as she seemed to do as she did her people-watching? 

Perhaps.

But then, there are so many perhapses and maybes in life that free will and thought almost seemed a curse.  But she seemed to enjoy watching the maybes turn into happenings. 

Perhaps, that was what people-watching was all about.

Memories are like boxes. 

They are stored away, carefully placed and stacked in neat columns and rows, a vast library of dusty tomes, sealed away in square packages and left. 

Until something kicks them over.  And the boxes burst open, and there were more things inside of them that you knew there were. 

It overwhelms.

And memories forgotten come back…and the bad ones are the ones that matter.  The tears, and the pain. 

It

Rushes

Back.

"I remember…"

The girl aged 6.

"Today Hope set Sister Magdalena's habit on fire.  The girl was asleep in the chapel, and our Sister shook her to wake her up.  From nowhere, a fire sprang up, and set fire to the good Sister's habit.  She has burns on her ankles but will be all right.  She is currently in the Convent infirmary. 

We have consulted Father Juliano on this matter.  The child's Craft has awoken.  As Mother Superior here in Italy, I feel I am responsible for any acts she commits under our care.  The Father also says we should now call her Robin.  Why I do not know, but I have not asked. 

The child is different from any others I have seen.  She prays often, and does not question anything.  Robin is wise beyond her years, yet still an innocent child.  Perhaps she will remain this way, pure and good.  I can only pray.  She does not ask why she is now Robin, only answers to it happily. For now, there is nothing more I can do but record everything that takes place here concerning out young charge, as father Juliano has instructed.

There was a marker in the Bible she carried with her.  A red silk ribbon.  It did not mark a passage, or a page.  But on it was written words.  So old the ink was faded, but she knew them, and that was the purpose.

"For if the sprinkling of defiled persons with the blood of goats and bulls and with the ashes of a heifer sanctifies for the purification of the flesh, how much more shall the blood of Christ, who through the eternal Spirit offered himself without blemish to God, purify your conscience from dead works to serve the living God."
Hebrews 9:13-14

She remembered it even later, and

She

Cried.

For her, the sins of flesh were only the beginnings.

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A/N:  That is Chapter one, please review, praise is wonderful, constructive criticism is appreciated.  Also, for any of you who also read Rurouni Kenshin fics on this site, may recognize a couple of my stories, since this is my new pen name.  My OLD one was Rivenstarr.