Move with the Times
By Catherine
Disclaimer: I own nothing and am making no money out of writing this fanfiction.
Rating: M just to be on the safe side, could probably get away with a T.
Beta: Betaed by the wonderful CeeChelle Lisa Gisborne-Hardy from . Any remaining errors are entirely my own.
Set in: Modern day Britain
Author's note: The flashbacks are in italics
Chapter One
"He loves me. He loves me not." Marian smiled contentedly as she plucked the petals off a daisy in her hand and watched them float gently on the breeze. One in particular caught her attention; it appeared to be heading for the woods but was abruptly snatched.
"He loves you", the hand's owner grinned down at her, before brushing his stubble against her forehead.
"Is that so?" She teased him as she caressed his face.
"Yes", Robin leant down to kiss her properly.
His stubble scratched her fingers delightfully as she slipped her hands down to the softness of his t-shirt, grasping handfuls of it with which to pull him closer. Her breathing quickened a little as it always did when he was near, goose bumps sprang up along her delicate skin, her eyes closed and her lips parted awaiting the softness of his own.
For several long moments she waited until she realised that she could no longer even feel the warmth of his body ... and then slowly she opened her eyes. Logically she knew that he must just be playing a game with her, teasing her as was his habit, that had to be it. But that did not assuage the knots which were forming in the pit of her stomach or the chill which travelled down her spine.
"Robin", Marian called as she looked around and climbed to her feet. She took a couple of deep breaths, they were in a meadow there was no reason to be afraid, or even nervous ... yet she was.
He was standing up in front of the rug, upon which she had laid, with a serious expression.
"Robin", she repeated his name and moved forwards with no little difficulty, as if her feet were made of lead. "What is the matter?"
Robin's eyes were fixed on his own feet and he breathed deeply once as if he were about to say something but then, as if it were too difficult to form words he shook his head. He did this several times before he started to pace. He seemed to find some sort of relief in movement as the next time that he breathed in, clearly stealing himself for the worst; he actually made an indistinct sound. After a few more mumbles he managed to utter her name.
Marian felt sick. She did not know what was wrong with him but she feared the worst, why else would he be acting like this? Was he ill? But if he were ill or worse, dying, then why would he have brought her out here to their special place?
She gasped as she realised what was happening. They had always planned to marry once she had graduated but he had never actually made the official proposal. That had to be it. The angry wasps in her stomach transformed into pleasant butterflies.
"Robin", she took his hands in her own, "you can tell me anything".
He looked up at her, his eyes filled with trepidation and she felt her heart warm even more to him.
"Marian", he finally said in a voice which sounded almost like his own, "I love you very much and have enjoyed our relationship very much. But we are no longer children nor teenagers and I feel like to become the man that I know I can be there are certain things that I need to do, even if they are difficult and some may think that I am too young ... I know that I am ready".
"I think that you are too", Marian said, beaming.
"Really?" He looked relieved, "You were the one I most feared telling but now that I know that I have your support I feel like that I can do anything. I mean", he continued, "it won't be easy, fighting never is, but I feel that I have to support our boys and that it is a just fight".
"Support our boys?" Marian repeated dumbfounded.
"Yes, in Iraq ..." Marian heard no more. She could not, the rushing sound in her ears was too loud. He did not love her, he was not asking her to marry him: He was going to war.
Marian's eyes snapped open, she sat bolt upright, breathing hard. Images of Robin telling her that he was leaving to "support [their] boys" still swam before her eyes and she shook her head with annoyance, clearing her mind before looking around.
She was not in the meadow where she had spent so many happy hours as a teenager and where her heart had been crushed, but rather her bedroom in her father's house. The sunlight which filtered through the white gauze curtains illuminated the cheerful lemon coloured walls.
It was all that Marian could do to stifle a groan as she got out of bed. Not only had she obviously slept far later than she had intended to, she also had to look at the walls that her father had had painted for her last year as a surprise. She loved her father dearly, but sometimes she wished that he would realise that she was 21 not 12.
Wondering why no one had woken her, she moved out onto the spacious landing and scanned the area for servants. Finding none, she continued to her father's bedroom, only to find a note on his door explaining that he had gone away to do some damage control after "yesterday's fiasco".
That was when it all came back to her.
Marian's high heels clicked against the highly polished solid oak floors as she made her way briskly to conference room A. Although she would never have admitted it – not even under torture – she loved attending these monthly stock holders meetings. Not just because it meant that she got to see her father in his element, but also because it made her feel as if she had achieved something. She, Marian Fitzwalter, was welcomed into these meetings not because her father was the managing director, but by dint of her own exertion.
As she entered the room she noted that nearly everyone else was assembled even though there were another ten minutes before the meeting was due to start. This did not bother Marian particularly as she was happy to hobnob with the other shareholders and she always liked to hear what they thought of her father's management of the company.
In her youth she had always believed that her father could do anything, but as she got older she began to realise that she had been right, at least as far as business was concerned. In addition to running his own company and charitable organisations; he was an upstanding member of the community, had been the head of the corporation for the past 25 years and had succeeded in turning it from something of a failure to a success for the government. The profit it turned was great enough to make returns, substantial enough to satisfy their investors, as well as donate large chunks of money to various charities, whilst dealing fairly with everyone.
There seemed to be a buzz in the room that day, some talk of a surprise inspector from the new government coming to check everything over; however, Marian was not concerned; why should she be? Her father was brilliant; she was certain that there was no way that this could affect his position at the corporation.
How wrong she was!
As soon as her father walked in with the short fat man, whom she presumed to be the inspector, a feeling of unease settled over Marian. Her father called the meeting to order and introduced said man as Mr. Vaisey of London, but no sooner had he done this than the newcomer interrupted.
The toad thanked Dr. Fitzwalter for his "kind introduction" and, on behalf of the government, for all of his loyal service over the years ... before announcing that it was their "considered opinion" that it was time for him to have "a bit of a rest" and to "leave the more arduous duties" to himself and others who were younger – if not by much, Marian thought uncharitably – and more suited to the dog eat dog world of business.
Marian was taken aback. In all of her 21 years on the planet, she had never seen her father look so ashen nor so small. Thankfully, that horrifying look was only there for a moment, but Marian would never forget it. He had gone from being the strongest man in the world, the man before whom monsters fled, to a mere moral and an old one at that. She felt sick to her stomach.
She turned to face the man who had done this to her beloved father, Mr. Vaisey, - if that was indeed his real name -, and as she heard him outline his monstrous plans for squeezing more money out of the company instead of helping people ... Marian vowed revenge.
Marian crumpled the note in her hand and her lip curled in disgust as she remembered how that odious weasel had treated her father.
The feeling of sickness came back to her and lay cold and hard like a stone at the bottom of her stomach for a few seconds, but slowly it began to dissipate as she grew angry: far more so than she had been the day before when she had felt compelled to swear vengeance, as the shock had now warn off. The fury turned her blood into molten lava; she could feel it boiling beneath her skin. Marian knew that it was wrong to feel like this, that hate was not something to relish or give in to, that it was something to fight against ... yet it was empowering and she was tired of feeling weak and unable to help and so allowed it to feed off her resentment.
How dare they do this to her father?
He had given the best years of his life to that company, raised it from nothing, why there wouldn't even be a company if it weren't for him. Yet that apparently counted for nothing now that a new government was in power.
Ha, what government? A party which bled the people dry instead of protecting them, and committed illegal activities every day of the week did not deserve the name! Marian was so furious that, as she thought of the injustice, she became positively flushed and her hands balled so tightly into fists that her nails made indentations on her palms.
She would think of something and then Vaisey would be sorry. If only she could find ...
The sound of pounding coming from the front door interrupted her train of thought. Marian could have screamed. That must have been what had woke her up before though why someone thought it wise to bang on her door in such a manner she could not fathom. Did the person not realise that this was a respectable neighbourhood where people did not just go around attempting to break down people's doors? Maybe the "guest" had never heard of a doorbell before.
Having surmised that there was no one else in the house Marian made her way down to the entrance hall, determined to give whoever thought that they could act in such a manner a thorough dressing-down. In fact, her thoughts were so preoccupied in this manner, that she did not notice that she was still wearing the pyjamas that her father had brought her last Christmas until she was standing at the door face to face with an extremely tall, extremely well dressed, male.
Author's note: That was not actually how Robin broke up with Marian, it was several scenes which will become apparent later in the story which she jumbled together in a dream.
