Notes: This is a one-shot conversation from an AU S1 in which Robin came back to Locksley to find Marian already married - to Guy. Sob!

Also I realize no one cares, but I feel like I should own this: the line from the Bible that's in here is definitely not contemporary to the 12th century; it's the KJV translation. It's highly unlikely that Robin would have read any Bible, much less one in the vernacular, and certainly not a translation from 400 years in the future :)

Triumphant, he pulled the mask from the Nightwatchman's face.

The Nightwatchwoman.

"Marian?" he asked in disbelief.

She was glaring up at him, her eyes furious. "Get off me."

He stood and backed away, and Marian leapt to her feet, picking up her sword and pointing it in his direction. "You tell no one, Robin of Locksley."

Robin held up his hands in surrender. "Marian-"

"No one," she hissed, jabbing the sword for emphasis - God, it was one of his, he'd given it to her years ago. "It'll be my neck if you do. Do you understand? Guy will kill me."

"This is a dangerous game you're playing, then," he snapped, refusing to be cowed. "You're going to get caught!"

"I haven't yet."

He was struck by the confidence in her tone. "Yet? How long have you been doing this?"

"Since the new Sheriff took over."

Robin thought about it. "Years, then."

"Yes." So matter-of-fact. She could've been discussing her embroidery.

"But why?" Robin had heard stories of the Nightwatchman, though he doubted if half of them were true. Daring escapes and deer poached from the forest and medicine snuck past heavy guards. Even if only the tamest tales were fact, Marian had been risking her life on a daily basis ever since he'd set foot in the Holy Land.

"Why did you rescue those villagers?" she said. "There are some things I can do as Lady Gisborne, but I cannot visit quarantined villages or save men from hanging. Guy will overlook a bit of charity, but not outright disobedience of the sheriff's orders."

"What, and your husband just doesn't notice when you sneak out in the middle of the night?"

She flushed, and he was instantly suspicious. "He sleeps deeply." And then she added under her breath: "With a bit of assistance."

God. Marian was poisoning her husband. Of course she was. Robin couldn't decide whether to be angry or impressed. "So Matilda knows?" he asked, hands on his hips.

"Not about the Nightwatchman," Marian assured him. "She - she thinks I have other reasons to want him unconscious."

Robin looked at her evenly. "Do you?" His gaze rested on her cheekbone where there was a fresh bruise, vivid blue. "Where did you get that?" he asked softly.

On instinct, she reached up to touch it. Her hand floated back down to her side. Slowly. "It is nothing."

"Marian-"

"I made my choice," she said sharply.

Yes, she had. She had married Gisborne. Robin's voice broke. "Why did you marry him?"

"I don't expect you to understand."

Robin sighed. "Try me."

Marian slid her sword back into her belt, dragged one foot across the ground. "After my father died, I couldn't keep Knighton in my own right. I had nowhere else to go."

Robin stepped closer to her. Gently, he touched the bruise on her cheek. She flinched. "There must have been other options." Marian was beautiful and clever, and her father had been wealthy enough. Some other man would have married her. Some kinder man.

"Yes, if I'd wanted to leave Nottingham. But - this is my home, Robin. At least here, I know all of the villagers. I can ride in the forest. I can see my father's house, every day." He heard it unspoken: I can imagine myself in the life I should have had.

He looked at her. Another man's wife, now, but as brave and as defiant as ever. She hadn't changed at all.

Quietly, Robin said, "I'm sorry."

"It's a bit late for that." Her eyes flashed up to meet his. "But thank you."

His heart broke for her. Those two words. Why had he left? What madness had possessed him? "Is there anything-"

"Robin?" said Marian, her voice tentative. "Leave me alone. If you want to make things easier for me - then go. Please."

It didn't sound harsh, the way she said it, but it was the worst thing he could imagine hearing. Anything other than that. He wanted to fold her into his arms. He wanted to touch her, gently, the way he used to. The way her husband should, and clearly didn't.

He bit his lip. "Why?"

"Don't do this."

"Marian-"

"You left!" she cried, suddenly desperate. "You don't get to do this. You don't get to come back here and act like - act like I did something wrong. I'm doing what I can, Robin. I made the only choice that was available to me."

And Robin said, his voice every bit as desperate as hers: "I love you."

And Marian just stepped back, away from him, shaking her head. Her shoulders down. Vulnerable. When she finally looked up at him again, her eyes were bright.

She asked, "So what?"

What answer could he possibly give?

He loved her, but he had left. He loved her, but she had married someone else. What therefore God hath joined together, let not man put asunder. Even if he left her bruised and unhappy. Even if someone else loved her more

Her eyes were so blue. She pulled the hood back over her head, tucking her dark hair into the collar of her shirt. "Goodbye, Robin," she said, and the regret in her voice was a nightmare he would carry until the end of his days.

And that was it.

Marian gave him one last, long look - with pity in it, like she pitied him, and wasn't that just like her - and walked away.