A/N: Just a glimpse into Marian's now ethereal existence, post Series 2. Spoilers for 2-13.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my rambling thoughts.
Leaves do not crunch beneath my feet. Wind does not cool my face nor whip my hair. No squirrels scurry nor do birds take flight when I disturb their surroundings. For I disturb nothing.
I am here, but barely so. I walk, but I do not touch the ground. I speak, but no sound is made. I am not really moving, but I go everywhere. I sweep across the earth yet leave nothing in my wake. I have no form, no breath, no feelings.
The last is the strangest part. No feelings. I was not aware of the fact at first. I did not notice their absence. I did not miss them. Feelings. It did not occur to me. I watched. I listened. I waited. But I felt nothing. Until I remembered.
Until I was pulled back through time. Time. This is a different concept for me from what it once was. Time. Always constant, always moving forward, always leading us away from the past and toward the future...toward what is uncertain...unknowable. But I have no future. So there is no time. I do not move forward. But I can travel back. Yes, I have found that, for brief periods, I can travel back.
I can go back to a time when I was present...really present. When I moved and was noticed. When my body was warm and solid. When I had a body.
I can travel back to a time when I was a part of the world. To a place where I belonged. Belonged to the world. Belonged to a country. Belonged to a man.
To a time when I felt something. Many things. Excitement. Hope. Love. Pain. Regret. But all too soon, I am pulled away from the past.
I always return here. To this place. This forest. And I watch. I watch them. I watch him. But I can not love him here. I am simply incapable.
He calls out to me in his sleep. He weeps for me when he thinks no one can see. He speaks aloud to me when he believes he is alone. He asks for my guidance and my help. He needs answers. I have none. It is just as well, for I cannot answer him. I have no voice.
So I watch, and I listen, and I wait. I watch as they move about their camp, trying to live as they once did. I listen to all that they do not say. And I wait to be swallowed up by the past again.
For it is in the past that I lived. That I can live still. It is there that I feel. I feel everything. It is in the past that I relive the life and love that I shared with him.
I have found that almost anything can send me back. A change in season or the first snowfall. A memory, spoken aloud in my husband's voice. Sometimes, it is merely the mention of my name by one of them, although always in hushed tones. Then I am transported back to a time when I was in his arms and I can feel their warmth and safety.
But my journeys back are far too brief and infrequent. Just when I feel I am becoming myself again, I am pulled away. Just as I was pulled away from him once before. I was pulled up from the sand and I awoke here. In the forest. And here is where I always return.
My father tells me that it is not wise to relive what cannot be changed. He tells me that I must learn to let go. Let go of the past. Let go of myself. Let go of my friends. Let go of him...of Robin...of my husband.
My father tells me that there will come a time when I will accept what has happened and accept what I am. And what I am not. What I can no longer be...no longer do...no longer have. He says that I will freely walk away from all of this. That, indeed, it must be freely done. That no one will force me to go. It must be my choice.
So I choose to stay. Although I am certain that I no longer belong. Here...or anywhere. I am separate from all things.
But he needs me still. And, although I can provide him no solace, neither can I abandon him. So I will dwell in the forest...his forest...and I will watch and listen. As long as he needs me...
A/N: Review it if you enjoyed reading it, please. Thanks.