Father Juliano sat beside a dying young woman with fiery green eyes and a tiny red-haired child in her arms and fought the urge to scream in frustration. Why? Why this? Oh please Lord, not THIS. The desperate prayer of a priest who hardly believed in his God. He lifted the squalling babe from her mother's dying arms and the little girl quieted, as if she too understood the gravity of this moment. The Father stared at the child in his arms, the tiny girl that would soon become his whole world.
The woman smiled lovingly up at them. "Take care of her, Father. Take care of my Maria -my sweet Robin -my Marie."
Then the girl-woman he loved slipped away from him, and left him holding a tiny red-haired, green-eyed child.
...~...
Father Juliano had entered Raven's Flat with apprehension. He had intended to just let her be hunted and killed and wash his hands of the whole ordeal, but in his mind he could see Maria's face and, damn him, he had to see his granddaughter one last time. He hadn't intended to tell her everything either, but if it might help her in any way he was powerless to keep it from her.
The shock he had expected. What he hadn't expected was the forgiveness in Robin's eyes, so like her mother's. There he was confessing to trying to kill her at birth and signing her death warrant out of his own cowardice, yet still there was love for him in her eyes. In that moment he had realized that the Devil's Child was a saint. His Robin. This girl he had raised and loved as a daughter.
...~...
It was nearly a year before he saw her again, and it was all he could do to keep from weeping.
Robin stumbled between the dozen steel-eyed hunters that were 'escorting' her to Solomon headquarters, barely able to stand as they dragged her along. The steel collar she wore was embedded with vials of highest-concentration orbo and glowed with symbols of the craft, as did the chains that hung from her wrists, ankles and throat. Father Juliano stared, appalled.
The hunters stopped when they saw him and asked him to identify her for them. He wanted to believe it wasn't her standing there with Amon's blood splattered over her bruised face and torn cloths that wrapped loosely around her thin frame, making it all the more painfully obvious that she was six or seven months pregnant. Then she opened her eyes and the fire he saw in them burned away any doubt there ever might have been.
...
He sat, silent, in the chamber where the leaders of Solomon debated the importance of disposing of the Devil's Child against killing a pregnant woman. Robin, still bound and chained, stood in silence as the debate raged first one way then the other. His eyes never drifted away from her tear stained face. She only met his gaze once, only for a moment, and despite being surrounded by people they were alone. They spoke without words to each other's hearts.
Robin. His face shone with sadness.
Father. She looked so tired.
I'll get you out of here. His eyes were determined.
You can't save me, Father. He flinched.
I can. He knew he couldn't.
You can help me though.
Anything.
He saw what she wanted. He saw the truth in her eyes and his heart ripped into a thousand burning shreds.
No, Please, not that. Anything but THAT. Robin.
Her eyes shut and she bowed her head, resigned to her fate. He broke.
Silence.
The counsel had decided to let her live for the moment, just until she gave birth. Then she would be executed. They had waited for years to kill her, so what was another month or two? They would determine the fate of the child later, but Father Juliano knew it would be death in the end.
...
He stood beside the cage she was locked in, still filthy and draped with orbo-tainted chains.
"Robin." His Robin.
"Father?" Her voice sounded like blood poured over shattered glass.
"I'll do it." Misery overwhelmed him. She was just a step away, but completely out of reach.
"Thank you," Her smile light up his world. "Father." That one word pierced his aching heart like a knife and he turned away so she wouldn't see the tears in his eyes.
"I love you." He was sure she couldn't hear the words he whispered as he left her to die. He didn't see the small, sad smile that graced her lips as his shadow slipped out through the door he never should have entered to begin with.
...
Father Juliano sat beside a dying young woman with fiery green eyes and a tiny red-haired child in her arms and fought the urge to scream in frustration. Why? Why this? Oh please Lord, not THIS, not again. Not Robin. Not my Robin. The desperate prayer of a priest who hardly believed in his God anymore. He lifted the squalling babe from his Robin's dying arms and the little girl quieted, as if she too understood the gravity of this moment. The Father stared at the too-small child in his arms, this tiny babe that would soon become his whole world.
Robin smiled lovingly up at them. "Take care of my Marie, Father."
"Robin." All of his pain burned in that one word.
"Goodbye, Father." He had never prayed so hard before.
Then his Robin slipped away from him, and left him holding a tiny red-haired, green-eyed child, again.
Father Juliano had never hated God so much.