Accident Of Birth

She looked at him, her eyes liquid pools. Fierce. Sad. A strange hollow where her heart should be, a dull ache instead of a heartbeat. A lifetime of sorrow in one look.

"You're a mess, y'hear? Now get the hell out of my sight before I knock you out of my way!"

Pinocchio pressed through the shrub in time to see the raised hand, Florence standing stock still as if frozen to the spot. Making no attempt to fend off the blow. He was too close to fire so he broke into a frantic run and rammed straight into him, knocking the man clean off his feet. Rage
errupting in both of them at the same time. He pinned him on his back, angry blue eyes glaring with fury. The man beneath him smouldered pure hate.

"You lay a freeking hand on her and I'll kill you!"

The man wriggled beneath him, unrepentent. "And I'll whip your sorry ass before you get the chance to draw another breath."

Seconds later and Hobbes joined them, feet pounding as he emerged into the clearing. He skidded to a halt and looked first at Pinocchio making sure he had the man under control then went to check on Florence. She still had not moved. He looked into her face, disturbed to see tears in her eyes. Pinocchio was dragging the man to his feet none too kindly. Hobbes wondered how the hell he had known Florence was in trouble. It took him another second to wonder why she had not simply shot the man. God knew she had killed men for less. They all had. Puzzled, Hobbes realised she was in shock. "You alright, Florence?"

She did not look at him. Pinocchio turned to look back at her, his eyes still angry but now grazed with concern when he saw her face. Florence looked passed him. Eyes only for the man held brooding and malevolent in Pinocchio's grasp. As her eyes caught his the man spat at her. Pinocchio rammed his elbow into the man's face, furious at his action. Hobbes watched the nose split and blood splatter all down Pinocchio's shirt front and across the man's face. Broken. <Serves him freeking right> Thought Hobbes. For once Pinocchio did not tell him to shut up. He pushed his face inches from the stranger's. "Any other stupid moves you care to make,
a-hole?"

The man glared at him, in obvious pain but determined not to give an inch. Then to Hobbes amazement the man spat into Pinocchio's face, the spittle hitting him in the eye and running down his cheek. For a moment he was stunned by the man's action then rage took over. "Why you..."

Before he could knock seven barrels out of him, Florence moved to intervene. Her hand trembling as she laid it on Pinocchio's arm. Their eyes met and his anger turned to confusion and concern. <What's going on, Florence?>

She looked at him for a long time. Hobbes held his breath. The man glowered at them both. Florence dropped her eyes momentarily as if steeling herself then met Pinocchio's eyes again. <He's my father>

Pinocchio's mouth dropped open in shock. Her father? <This piece of shit is your father?>

She coloured slightly and he felt immediately sorry. Not for the man but for Florence. She nodded then stepped away. He looked at the man. A scruffy stocky male in his mid-fifties. Little spiteful eyes in a long boney face with a mean mouth and pitted face. For all the meanness he might have visited on others, mother nature had got her own back in fashioning him. The ugliness inside written all over the outside of him like a government health warning. Telling every soul he encountered that here was an example of what lurked under the rocks and slime in the shallow end of the gene pool. Bottom of the food chain. Pinocchio was reluctant to let go of him. He glared at him, wanting answers.

"I ever see you treat Florence like that again I'll kill you."

He smirked at Pinocchio and glanced with distaste at Florence. She was not looking at anyone. Head down, face averted. Hobbes thought she looked ashamed.

"That what you told them your name was?" He sneered spitefully. "Florence?" He snorted to mock her but had to put a hand over his broken nose as new blood started to spurt out. Pinocchio watched it leak out through his fingers with satisfaction hoping it was hurting like hell. He wanted to hit him so bad it was painful. But he held back. For Florence. Right now Florence was the only thing standing between this man and an unmarked grave.

"Now," Growled Pinocchio. "You're gonna tell me what this is all about."

The man clammed up. Gimlet eyes fastening on Florence with malice making her tuck her head even lower. Pinocchio hated to see her cringe, wanted to beat the man to a pulp for doing that to her. After the shock of finding out who he was came the suspicion of the life she had led growing up as a child in a house with no love in it. He did not like to think what kind of things this creature had subjected her to. He tried not to speculate. To hold his temper in check. "Talk!"

He grinned at Pinocchio. Chipped teeth making a crooked row of slabs. "Fuck you!"

Pinocchio lost his temper, his response as automatic as breathing. He head butted him as hard as he could, a flash of satisfaction shooting through his veins as the man went slack. Unconscious. He let go and let him fall hard to the ground. Florence started to go to him but Pinocchio put a hand out, gently but firmly holding her back, his eyes on her face, willing her to look up at him. <Never pick shit up off the floor, Florence. You're better than that>

She raised reluctant eyes to meet his. <He's hurt>

He shook his head. "I'll do it."

Her eyes widened with surprise.

Florence watched dumbfounded as he picked her father up off the floor and propped him up against a tree. Pinocchio took a moment to pat him down and relieve him of his gun. He did not care who the man was, no one was going to threaten Florence let alone lift a hand to her. Not while he had freeking breath in his body. Hobbes was looking from the inert man to Florence. His expression one big question mark. "Who is he?"

She looked at Pinocchio. Not wanting to confess her connection to the man but knowing Hobbes would have to know. He would find out anyway. Pinocchio understood. "It's her father, Hobbes."

Hobbes looked shocked though he tried to hide it from showing. His face had always been an open book. Pinocchio tried to brush the revelation off, make light of it. "Accident of birth, Hobbes."

"How can you say that?" Said Hobbes, thinking he meant Florence.

"Him not Florence." <Never Florence> He thought gently.

Something in the solemn agony of her eyes shifted, as if a trickle of light had made it through lightening the darkness touching her soul. <Thanks>

He turned his head and looked at her, such feeling in that look that she lost contact with the ground beneath her feet. Nothing else penetrated but his presence, his thoughts washing through her pain and gently easing the burden placed so unfairly upon her long ago. Pinocchio had a sudden thought. <Is that why you became a sister?>

For a moment he thought she would not answer.

<Yes>

Another insight touched him deep inside with all the force of revelation. <You're doing penance aren't you, Florence?>

She hung her head and would not look at him. He sighed. Hobbes frowned slightly, baffled as he often was at their silent exchanges. Pinocchio stepped up to her and put his arms around her. Her tight shoulders relaxed slowly into his embrace, her head on his shoulder, eyes closed to trap the tears though they managed to leak around the closed lids anyway.

<It's alright, Florence, I won't let him hurt you. He isn't worth a hair on your freeking head>

<He's my father>

Pinocchio pulled back slightly so she could see his face. He smiled slowly, gently. Heart aching for love of her. <Yeah, sorry>

She smiled back, some of the weight lifting off her heart. His rough touches of humour precious because they were motivated by love. Strong, silent, unspoken but there. Always there, ready to catch her if ever she should fall. They dragged the man back to camp. Florence wished they had left him behind and got their things together and pressed on but Pinocchio did not want this man at his back. He wanted him where he could see him. Wanted to know what the hell he thought he was doing following Florence in the first place. What did he want with her? Once they were back at the campsite Hobbes lit a fire and Pinocchio watched in silence as Florence laid her hands on the man's face, healing his broken nose and the split in his head where he had been head butted. She stepped back warily as he started to come round. Pinocchio realised she was afraid of him. He hated to see that. Wanted to know what he had done to her, what the story was. The man glared at Pinocchio then his eyes settled on Florence.

"Get that bitch out of my sight!"

Pinocchio shoved his face right up against his, controlling his temper with difficulty. "What the hell's the matter with you? How could you treat your daughter like that?"

The man looked at him, eyes narrowing. "Daughter?" He fairly spat the word out. "Worst mistake I ever made fathering that trash."

He drew a fist back and was surprised to find a hand close gently but firmly over it. He turned his head and looked at Hobbes.

Hobbes was shaking his head. "He isn't worth it."

"And what would you know, fairy boy?"

Hobbes glared at the man. Pinocchio used the moment's distraction to hit him with his left hand. Hard as he freeking could. The man's head snapped back but it did not teach him any manners. He spat out a tooth. "What's the matter, truth hurt?"

"You wouldn't recognise the truth if it sat up and bit you."

The man jerked his head in Florence's direction. "She tell you she used to be a sister?"

Hobbes nodded. Pinocchio just glared at the man.

"Tell you why she left? Why they threw her out like the trash she is?"

Pinocchio bristled but Hobbes ignored him. Wanting to get the story out of the man. Find out what this was all about. "Suppose you tell us." He said quietly.

The man sized them up and looked long and hard at Florence. She was looking at the ground, refusing to raise her eyes. Hobbes could not blame her. The view was far from pretty.

"My Mary," The man broke off as if the words pained him. "My Mary was the best thing that happened to me. Until she came along."

Hobbes frowned. The man turned his head away then looked at them. "Died giving birth to *that* creature."

Pinocchio started to move closer, murder in his eyes. Hobbes gently pressed him back not taking his eyes off the man. "She died in childbirth?" He asked softly.

The man glared at him but some of the heat had abated. He nodded.

"Why do you blame Florence?"

A spark of hate flared in his eyes. "Calls herself a freeking healer. All I ever seen her do is take life. An abomination is what she is."

As he turned his head he caught a spark of something in Pinocchio's eyes and looked at him more closely. Nodding with sudden understanding, his expression twisting with ugliness like his thoughts. "Think you love her do you, soldier? She'll break your heart then leave you wishing it had been your freeking neck."

He grabbed his shirt front. "You liar! You don't know the first thing about her. Blaming Florence for what happened when she was born is the most pathetic thing I've ever heard."

The man was quieter now. No anger, no more spite, just sadness and disappointment. "You travel with her you'll need a preacher to bury you before you can ever need one to marry you."

"Why're you following us if you feel like that?"

For a long moment he said nothing. His eyes clouded as if with an old pain resurrected against his will. Hobbes fancied he could see the cracks in the man's armour. "You wouldn't understand even if I was minded to tell you."

Hobbes looked intrigued. "Try me."

The man looked at Pinocchio and clammed his mouth shut. Hobbes gave his friend a pleading look and with a huff of disgust Pinocchio let go of the stranger's shirt and walked over to Florence. He needed to get a breath of fresh air anyway. He looked at her slumped shoulders and his heart ached. < Florence>

She looked up tentatively. He tried a smile on for size but it kept slipping off his face. His heart was too sad for her, feeling and sharing her pain. <C'mon. I need some air>

She glanced at Hobbes. He gave the slightest of nods. She turned and walked away with Pinocchio. As they walked off though the trees Pinocchio became aware of something following them. He paused and looked back, surprised to see Hobbes' dog trotting behind them. The dog had been so quiet he had forgotten all about him. He shook his head. Damn freeking dog. Popped up at the oddest times. Florence went back and picked the dog up, hugging him to her as if he was a lifeline.

Back at the camp Hobbes was waiting for the man to explain himself. He took his time as if it was hard for him to put it into words. "You have to understand something. There was never anyone else for me but my Mary. The sun rose and set every time she looked at me. Oddest freeking thing to ever happen to me. Such a beautiful feeling I can't describe it but when she smiled at me it would blind me with joy." He paused to steady himself. "Mary was desperate for a child and I just wanted whatever she wanted. Nothing was too good for her. When she found out she was pregnant it was the happiest damn day of her life. Never saw that much joy on a woman's face before or since." He paused, lost in memory. Eyes dulled with the mist of deep emotion. "Then she went into labour. Hardest thing I ever endured, seeing her suffer like that, struggle to be strong, to make sure the baby was okay. Well Mary had her way. The baby was born whole and perfect, or so it seemed." He hissed a breath then carried on. "For a minute or two I thought everything was going to be fine but then I realised she was still bleeding. Way too much. She'd haemorraged deep inside. Hell, I didn't know. I was still figuring out what to do with the baby, how to tie off the umbical chord. We never got as far as a hospital. No nurses or anything. The sisters found us just as she was dying in my arms. Seems the birth was too much for her, the bleeding too advanced by the time they got to us to heal her. That was when they looked at the baby and told me."

"Told you what?"

He looked at Hobbes bleakly. "That my daughter was a freeking healer."

Hobbes nodded. It all made sense. The rage. The blame. The sorrow.

"So I told them they could keep that damn Devil's spawn. No way did I want her anywhere near me. They tried to help me, but I didn't want to know. Just cradled my Mary in my arms." He paused as if choking back emotion. "They had to prise the freeking kid from her. Even in death she wouldn't let the baby go..."

"But you did." Said Hobbes very softly.

The man looked at Hobbes for several moments. "The human heart can only take so much."

"Yeah," Said Hobbes. "You lost the most precious thing in your life and threw away the last link you had to the wife you adored."

He looked at Hobbes stunned. Hobbes wondered if he was going to hit him but to his surprise he saw tears form.

"Florence isn't the enemy." He said softly. "She's a wonderful woman. Saved our lives more times than you could imagine. If she could turn back the clock and change places with your wife she would do it in a heartbeat."

His look hardened. "You don't know that."

"No. But I know Florence." He paused. "The sad thing is, you don't."

* * * * *

He could sense her pain, her sadness. Wanted to do something about it but did not want to make things worse. Florence knew he worried about her. That he hid his feelings behind a wall so high that sometimes he could not get free of his self imposed prison even if he wanted to. He had been hurt too many times in the past. She knew. She understood. She fussed Dexter and felt herself start to relax as they put more distance between the camp and themselves. When she stopped he waited, his eyes searching hers for clues.

Pinocchio nodded. <Why's he here, Florence?>

He felt her heart miss a beat, the fear on the brink of returning. His gut twisted, he never meant to do that. To hurt her. <I'm sorry>

She shook her head. <It's okay>

<It's not okay. I want to know what this is all about, Florence>

She looked at him for a moment then straightened as if she had come to a decision. <So do I>

The look of determination on her face almost made him smile. He brushed a kiss on her lips. He was so damn proud of her. Then he walked with her back to camp. Hobbes and Florence's father were sitting quietly by the fire as if they had been waiting for them to return. Pinocchio's eyes narrowed suspiciously. He looked at Hobbes. Hobbes stood up. "Come on, Pinocchio. Mark wants to talk to his daughter."

<Mark? Since when had this piece of shit had a name?>

Hobbes put a hand on his friend's shoulder and urged him gently to go with him. Pinocchio flashed a look at Florence, noticed her fleeting look of panic. No way could he leave her. Then a strange thought touched his mind. <It's okay. I won't hurt her>

Both Pinocchio and Florence turned their heads to look at the man who professed to be her father. <What? You think my daughter got her telepathic skills from a cornflakes' packet?>

Pinocchio looked at Florence and was surprised to see a grin on her face. What was going on? Hobbes tugged at his sleeve and they reluctantly left the two alone. Florence was standing, holding Dexter tightly. Absent mindedly stroking the little dog. Her father cleared his throat awkwardly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I said."

He paused then nodded reluctantly. "Yes."

"I had to see you."

She frowned. Suspicious.

"Look...Florence, is it? I didn't even know why I was looking for you. Not until now. It was something your friend Hobbes said. I realised that unconsciously I wanted to put things right."

He shook his head. "I'm not talking about the past, Florence."

She looked at him for a long time. Dexter wriggled in her arms and Florence put him down. She did not notice him trot away to find Hobbes. < What do you mean?>

"I mean now."

<Now?>

"Yeah. I miss Mary. Your mother." He paused starting to realise a few things as he looked at her. "You have her eyes, you know. And her mouth."

"No," He whispered. "I tried to hate you, it worked at first. But the years went by Florence. A man gets thinking and Mary wanted you so much, loved you while you were growing inside her. Passionately wanted you to live, to be safe, to be loved."

He nodded. "Yes and I've carried the guilt of it with me ever since."

He smiled. "Yeah, serves me right."

They looked at each other for a few moments. <What do you want from me?>

He sighed. "Forgiveness."

That surprised him. "Why not?"

<I'm not the one who's angry with you>

"You're not?"

She shook her head.

"Then who...?"

She smiled slowly and as he looked into her eyes he knew the answer.

* * * * *

When Hobbes and Pinocchio returned to camp Mark was nowhere to be seen. Florence was busy fixing up something to eat on the fire. Dexter trotted over to her to investigate. Hobbes looked around, disappointed not to find her father still there. He had so many questions to ask him. Pinocchio was not sorry to see that he had gone. Anyone who upset Florence did not have the right to draw breath in his book but he was puzzled. He went over to her and noticed she was calm, at peace almost. <What happened?>

<Yeah, well I didn't figure you went swimming>

She smiled at him, amused that he was so concerned. Touched that he cared. <He wanted to say sorry>

<And?>

Pinocchio was not sure he wanted to know what it was but he could not bear not knowing either. <What was that?>

Her smile widened slowly. He watched her put a hand in her pocket and take out a small picture. She handed it to Pinocchio, her eyes gentle. It was an old faded photograph of a lady. He had never seen her before but he would have recognised her anywhere. The eyes he had gazed into so many times it was like looking at his own in a mirror. The set of her lips, the air about her. He looked at Florence with a tinge of awe. "Your mother?"

She nodded. Eyes bright with tears. <Mary>

He looked at the picture, precious to him because it was precious to her. <Mary> He repeated with wonder. She leaned in close to him as he gazed in fascination at the image. When he raised his eyes to meet hers his heart did a little flip. He handed back the photograph and gently touched her face, watching her watch him. <She's beautiful Florence, just like you>

She smiled and kissed him. As their lips met he was so happy he had not let his anger get the better of him. How could he deny Florence a father? How could he deny the woman he loved any freeking thing at all?

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Accident Of Birth

Alison M Dobell (Alison_M_Dobell)

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