Title: What Was Once and What Is Now
Rating: T
Genre: Angst/Humour/Romance
Spoilers: Erm, none really. Set during series 1, just after episode 7. So yeh, after the whole Gisborne/Marian shindig.
Pairing: Robin/Marian
Disclaimer: Not mine, etc etc
Summary: Robin visits Marian at night to give her something back.
What Was Once and What Is Now
They had lain in the hay. It had smelt sweet like the summer air. The horses had shifted lazily as the sun set and it turned to dusk. He could almost remember the feel of her hands in his hair, and the taste of her lips as she smiled at him, blue eyes laughing as he murmured something that was probably most inappropriate into her ear. He didn't think it would ever end. He was wrong.
And now, he stands at the entrance of the same barn, behind Knighton Hall, which is bathed in moonlight. He definitely shouldn't be here. Even more so than before, because he's an outlaw and should stay as far away from her as possible. But he doesn't follow the rules.
Leaning against the wooden post, he folds his arms.
"You should be in bed. I hear there are outlaws in the forest you know."
His voice is playful. She doesn't turn from where she's standing, but strokes the mare that she's led into the stable.
"You shouldn't be here," she says, placing a kiss on the horse's nose. Robin feels a twinge of jealousy.
She watches him somewhat wearily as he steps towards her. She's clad in her Nightswatchman outfit, but the mask lies somewhat haphazardly in the hay where she discarded it.
"Oh don't be a spoilsport Marian," he teases. She doesn't say anything, but rubs the muzzle of the mare who snickers appreciatively. "If I recall, I was never supposed to be in here. It never bothered you before."
She meets his gaze now, glaring at him, almost angry that he's brought back memories of what had been.
"We were stupid then," she retorts. Her voice bitter as she takes the reins of the horse and hangs them up on a hook on the wall.
He's right behind her now and she tries not to tense but fails miserably. His arm brushes hers, whether by accident or not she can't tell. She shivers all the same.
"You didn't think so at the time," he murmurs quietly, his breath hot on her neck.
She whips around, eyes blazing, the dull ache that she's come accustomed to roaring into a painful fire of memories.
"Well I should have known better," she snaps. "If I'd known you were planning on leaving on the first route out of here on a hunt for glory I'm sure I'd of seen sense."
As soon as she's said it she knows she shouldn't have. But she has always been incapable of biting her tongue, and sadly, she remembers that was one of the things he'd loved about her.
His eyes are no longer playful, instead appear angry, hiding the effect she's had on him.
"You know-" He hisses, suddenly aware that their argument is spiralling into something that could send any of Gisborne's few men surrounding the house running. "You know I would not go if I was asked again."
"I do not know you anymore, I could not say." The coldness in her voice makes him flinch. "And you," she starts again quietly, "do not know me, Robin of Locksley."
He just stares at her, blue eyes piercing hers. Fingers find her palm, and he presses something hard and cold into her hand, closing her finger s around it.
"I have grown up. I have not completely changed, Marian. I know enough-"As he grows louder he stops. Sighing, he turns his head slightly, shaking it as if he doesn't quite know what to do anymore.
He releases his hold on her and Marian misses the familiar, yet old touch that she had once been so used to.
Opening her fist, she sees a plain, silver ring lying on her open palm. It shimmers slightly as the moonlight catches it. She parts her lips as if to speak, but he gets there before her.
"Do not worry," he says callously. "I am not proposing to you."
She watches his retreating back but he pauses when she calls his name.
"Robin," she pleads.
He doesn't turn fully. She can only see the side of his face, as his hand rests on the doorpost.
"It was your mother's; I wouldn't want to deprive you of it."
And then he is gone, walking away from her.
"Robin!" Her voice is somewhat frantic now but he doesn't respond. She catches him on the arm, where the grass meets the forest, making him face her. His eyes flicker unwillingly to meet hers, and she is almost scared at how emotionless they are.
"Thank you," she whispers. "I don't know how-"
"Gisborne does not know my house," he replies coldly. "It didn't take much."
Then he really does walk away, slipping into the shadows and behind the trees. She fingers the ring, rubbing it between her thumbs and forefinger. Her mother's wedding ring, which had in turn meant to become hers. And now – she pushes her hair agitatedly out of her face – she doesn't know.
She climbs the stairs quietly, heart heavy as she jumps the ones she knows to be creaky. The moonlight spills through the shutters as she enters her room, and she moves to close them. As her hand rests on the wood, she looks out at the forest. She could have sworn she saw the moving shadow of a man between the trees just where Robin had disappeared. Although, she reasons, it could have been the wind moving the hanging branched or an animal. But she knows better. It was him.
She had lied, she thinks feeling the heavy weight of the ring in her pocket.
After all this time, despite everything, they still know each other.