A Strange Sort of Perfect
001. A Strange Sort of Perfect. In which Scarlet wakes to the morning after the events at Castle Rock.
Words: 602
Rating: K+
It were a strange thing, waking to find myself wrapped in Robin's tight embrace. Not quite the same strange as it felt to see the light of the rising sun pouring in through the cave opening, when just the day before yester I had accepted that I'd never see another dawn, but strange all the same. The more I thought about it, I realized it weren't a strange I remembered ever feeling before. There were none of the confusion I'd felt when my stomach twisted, seeing Robin hold his namesake in Mary and George's home a few weeks past, or the overwhelming emptiness when I'd watched him walk away from the Great Hall at Castle Rock yesternight, knowing inside me it would likely be the last time I'd ever see him.
My heart began to race as images of the evening prior rushed back to me. The bright colors the people had worn in their clueless anticipation of the wedding to come, the cage Nottingham and Gisbourne had locked Robin in, suspended high above the dias. I saw how he'd stood tall and defiant within those iron bars, brave until the very end. The blood where Nottingham had slit poor Ravenna's throat, the malice in Gisbourne's eyes as he approached Rob with the intent to kill, the fierce echo of my own voice as I'd forced my way through the crowd. I saw the dark amusement on Gisbourne's mug as I offered him the deal. I heard the desperation in Robin's voice as he begged me not to do it, begged me to run. My chest felt tight again with all the emotion I'd felt then, fear and grief and loss and the determination to save him. It were that same goal for which I'd done the one thing I'd sworn I never would.
I tried not to remember what all came next. I tried to forget those awful words, the unwanted commitment, the wedding band around my finger.
Rob's breath were deep and steady against my hair, rhythmic in his sleep. I knew I were shaking, and the trembles would only get worse if I allowed myself to dwell on those memories. If he woke to find me such a nervous mess, I worried I might fall apart. So I closed my eyes against the images, trying instead to focus on the here and now. The way it felt to lie there in his arms, as safe as I'd felt in near a month; the warmth of his skin against mine, our fingers still entwined; the fact I loved him and somehow, impossible as it were, he loved me back.
I think I must have squeezed his hand then, for his grip tightened and I was sure I heard him sigh soft in his sleep. That set my mug to burning. My thoughts scattered like shards of broken glass. Robin loved me. He hadn't said it quite those exact words, but I knew it well enough to be the truth. I could tell by all the things he had said, by the way he held me so close against him- I could tell Rob loved me as easily as I could tell I loved him. I felt whole for the first time in my living memory, like even though Gisbourne were still out there and Joanna weren't, there were a purpose to living, a clear reason to face a world that didn't seem quite as cruel as normal.
In spite of all that had happened to lead me –to lead us- to this point, it were a strange sort of perfect.
A/N: Ah, I could go on and on for ages about how much I love this book. But this is neither the time nor the place. :) For here and now, I'll just say that I loved the story so much that I hoped and hoped some fanfic would pop up for it. And then I thought about it, and I realized So hey, why can't I write some? And here we are. Though it's nothing very substantial, I hope those of you who loved the book as much as I did will enjoy this first installment to what I hope will be a long-lasting series of one-shots. Oh, and just to clarify, I imagine that Scarlet, though also Marian, will remain "Scarlet" to the band- it's who they know her to be, and it's who she's come to know herself to be. So Scarlet she will stay, grammar and all. Thanks for reading, and if you do take a moment to tell me what you thought, please go easy on me! My imagination and writing inspiration are pretty much MIA.
