Nights were the hardest. When he was alone with the sky and stars. The darkness seemed to reach down through the trees and wrap itself around him, cold and comforting all at once.
This was when Robin mourned.
Sleep rarely came to him anymore. He tried not to let it show during the day, but he knew the gang would notice the darkness in his eyes, the pallor of his face. For now,though, they weren't asking any questions. He could be grateful for that, at least.
With the gang asleep, Robin would slip from his bunk and walk out into the forest. During the day, he had to be a fearless leader, a strong warrior - any weakness would be something for the Sheriff to take advantage of. From the outside, it might look as though Robin was ignoring that his wife had died only a few short months ago. It might appear that Marian's death had meant nothing to him.
How wrong people would be to think that.
Tonight, like most others, Robin travels aimlessly through the forest, pausing here and there to stare at the sky. Without realizing it, hot tears began to stream down his face. He didn't move to wipe them away. He simply sank down to his knees amongst the leaves, whispering her name over and over. MarianMarianMarianMarianMarian.It was his nightly mantra, his homage to the woman he loved more than anything. He couldn't bear to say her name out loud during the day, too afraid that he would break, but at night he was free to open himself to the immense pain losing her had caused. He knew that if she could see him, talk to him, she would be disappointed. They had fought side by side for the people of Nottingham, and it was only because he knew she would want him to continue that he did.
He had been angry, yes, so full of rage at Gisbourne. But the rage had been so all consuming, that it had burnt out quickly, and left him with only the empty melancholy. He preferred the anger, preferred having a target on which he could focus his energy. Revenge had been a welcome companion, so much better than the overwhelming loneliness and despair.
None of which he could show to the people he had been trying to help. They wouldn't understand, could barely look past their own misfortunes to care about his.
Yes, during the day, he was solid, he was Robin Hood, savior to the people. At night, in the cloak of darkness, he could be the boy from Locksley, who loved a girl - his wife - and lost her.