"Dark Night of the Soul, pt.1"

Angsty Robin and Marian fluff

Set after "Show Me The Money"

A/N: This is my first real attempt at something a bit fluffy. I also liked the idea of "missing scenes" so I tried my hand at this; it also allowed me to fill in bits of history and back stories I'd created in my head for the characters. Please read and review and enjoy. Part 1 of 2

Robin lay in his bunk, staring up at the roof, the taste of treason bitter in his mouth. The gang slept deeply, the multiple high risk and tragic happenings of the day taking their toll on them all. Yet, Robin found no rest as his thoughts chased themselves in endless circles and his soul writhed in frustration. He and the gang had experienced more than their share of treason thanks to Allan, but the betrayal he felt now was far worse; it was his own. How could he possibly feel any joy at Marian's presence in the camp when it was her father's death that had finally brought her to the forest?

He frowned and rolled to his side, the rustle of his blanket almost obscuring a strange sound that broke the quiet of the night. Warrior instincts tensed his muscles and focused his hearing and vision. The camp was silent save for the snores of the sleeping gang; the forest outside the camouflaged walls whispered nothing but the typical contentment and shadowed secrets that Robin knew well enough. Just as he relaxed his guard, the sound came again – a muffled, heartbroken sob.

Robin cursed at himself. Here you are thinking of her, and you can't even recognize her despair when you need to!

Marian had not cried after he had asked her to come to the forest with him. She had just been silent and somewhat withdrawn, as if the grief was suddenly too sharp for tears. However, Robin thought she had simply built a wall around her emotions in order not to look weak in front of the gang – and him. He knew Marian rarely reached for comfort, and that she might get upset with any attempt of his to soothe her. Yet, he could not help slipping out of his bunk and silently crossing to her bedside; her prideful stubbornness was just one of the many reasons he loved her.

"Marian," he whispered, kneeling on the floor next to her bunk. Her back was to him, so he reached out and gently stroked her hair.

She stiffened as he said her name and then muttered around stifled sobs, "G-go back to sleep, Robin. I'm sorry I woke you, I'm being a nuisance."

Robin grinned wryly, and decided to try and lighten the mood. "Yes, you are. You finally come to the forest after refusing for how long, and now you are keeping me awake."

It was the wrong thing to say, and Robin growled at himself as Marian pulled away, a harsh sob tearing from her throat.

"I'm sorry Marian, I did not mean that."

She sniffled and said, "You did and it's true."

Robin sighed. "Yes, it is. But you weren't keeping me awake."

Her back still to Robin, Marian asked sarcastically, "Oh? And what does the great Robin Hood do instead of sleep at night?"

"Think, mostly."

"About what?"

Robin pursed his lips, his eyes dropping to study his hands, as Marian still refused to look at him. "I was thinking that I have no right to feel any happiness that you're here when you are grieving. That I should not be grateful that you're finally in the forest, safe, because your father had to die for it to happen. And that is not right. Edward died a hero, but I wish he might have lived on and died peacefully in his sleep, for all our sakes."

Marian sat up and turned to look at him, eyes were red and puffy in the moonlight; her entire countenance spoke of a lost, sorrowful child. She lifted a hand to his face and traced the path of a tear Robin didn't know had existed. Her puzzled look prompted an answer.

"Your father and I might not have agreed on a lot of things, but he was your father, and a friend to me."

Tears welled in Marian's eyes, and her wall of will finally buckled. "Oh, Robin," she sobbed. "I can't believe he's gone!"

Robin expected her to curl into a ball, or to pull away and turn her back to him once again, being the strong and self reliant Marian that she always was. She so rarely sought out comfort that he was surprised when she suddenly grabbed his hand and clung to it as the tears fell. With only a heart beat's hesitation, he slid into the bunk next to her and gathered her shuddering frame against his chest. Marian buried her face in his shoulder and Robin simply held her while the storm of grief ran its course.

When Marian finally took a deep breath that was not released on a sob, Robin whispered, "How are you feeling?"

"Wh-what sort of question is that?" Marian hiccupped but Robin could hear a small smile in her voice. She continued, "Tired, and still sad." She bit back another sob and asked, "Does it ever get better?"

"In time," Robin whispered back, stroking her hair. "You'll still miss him, but it won't be as sharp." Marian sighed and burrowed her head into his shoulder again. Robin continued, "Ask . . . well, anybody here. You know Will's father was killed not long ago. Djaq told me her father was killed by Crusaders. Much's father died in a mill fire when he was young. I'm not sure about John's family, but he knows about loss."

"You forgot yourself. You lost your father as well."

"Yes. He died in a fire, like Much's father." Swept up in the memory, Robin muttered, "Damn my father, he had to be the hero. He shouldn't have gone back into that house!"

"Sounds like someone I know," Marian murmured. She looked up at Robin and gave him a wry smile.

He shook his head. "Hardly. We had argued the day before – I wanted more authority as the heir of Locksley, and told him he was an old man, only fit to sit and entertain in his house." Robin swallowed. "The next day, he died, trying to prove me wrong, I think. And suddenly I was Lord of Locksley at the age of fifteen."

Marian was silent for a time, before she whispered, "That sounds familiar, too."

Robin did not reply but simply pulled her closer in comfort. They sat silently for a while, as the night sighed and breathed around them. Marian slowly relaxed in Robin's arms, comforted and too weary to cry anymore that night. She was steadily rebuilding a wall around her emotions, but for the moment, it was far easier to just sit and be held. As Robin reveled in the wonderful feeling of closeness with Marian, he smiled and a silent chuckle purred in his chest. It was a bittersweet contentment to have her in the forest, but he could not deny he was pleased about it.

Apparently Marian felt the movement and asked, "What?"

Robin chuckled out loud but instead of answering about his feelings, he drew forward a memory. "Do you remember the time your father caught me climbing up to your window the first time?"

"As I recall, you were already at the window, and attempting to climb in! Nor was it the first time you had tried. I had told you to leave, but you wouldn't listen as usual."

"You know me – I like a challenge."

Marian shook her head. "What was the greater challenge- getting me to listen to your horrible attempts at wooing me, or sneaking past my father?"

"Let's say that the risk to my heart was greater than the risk to my life that your father posed." Robin smirked, and then said, "Ow!" as Marian shoved him gently. "Though afterwards, I was rather worried that he would use his power as sheriff to punish me for attempting to tarnish his daughter's reputation."

A superior smile on her lips, Marian said, "He wouldn't have needed to have worried – my shutters were locked, and all you were doing was reciting horrible bits of poetry at me. There was no chance I would have let you near enough to "tarnish my reputation". I was only thirteen, you weren't that attractive."

"Ah, but that opinion has changed for the better, hasn't it, my love?"

Marian felt a wave of warmth soothe her heart to hear those words from his lips. They so rarely spoke of their feelings for each other – and normally only in dangerous situations – that the simple novelty of the words was brilliantly fresh. Yet, she refused to give Robin the satisfaction of the last word. "At least you no longer spurt that ridiculous tripe you used to peddle."

"And that's the thanks I get for telling you my feelings!"

"You have to admit, some of it was horrendous." She smiled and shifted in his arms, seeking just a hairsbreadth of freedom.

Robin shrugged, lips twisting into an unwilling grin of agreement. "Only the bits born of sheer desperation."

"You like a challenge, I couldn't make it easy for you."

"You so rarely do."

Marian had no reply to this, but simply glanced at Robin sharply, guilt and sadness in her gaze, while his eyes were filled with hurt and frustration; neither of them had to say the name of Gisborne to know what the other was thinking.

They sat in silence again, their thoughts suddenly running in different directions, as they themselves were so wont to do. There was an almost imperceptible shift as they both drew away from the other, still touching, but no longer joined by the mutual feeling of bittersweet comfort; the spell had been broken by the reminder of the unhealed sore in their relationship.

Still holding Marian's hand, Robin gently stroked the palm with his thumb; he could feel calluses from the use of swords, a physical reminder that Marian was far more than just the quick thinking and stubborn noblewoman he loved. He asked suddenly, "When did your father allow you to learn how to use a sword? You knew how to use a bow before I left for the Holy Land – you challenged me enough when we were young! But what brought about the swordplay?"

Marian gave a reminiscent smile. "Not long after you left, my father and I were both at the castle; he was holding court, and I had been out to the market with my maid, Sarah. Some of the castle guards were berating an old woman in the street, and I told them to leave. They didn't listen, so I managed to grab one of their swords, and ordered them away, as the daughter of the Sheriff. I'm not sure what impressed them more – my status, or the fact that I had a sword. They left, and the captain of the guard reported the incident. I don't know what he said, but it prompted Father to allow me to get lessons so I could use the sword properly. My father had always told me he wanted me to have as many choices as he could allow; but still the sword lessons had to be very discrete."

"No doubt," Robin chuckled, and then asked, "Who taught you?"

"Joe Lacey, then a captain of the guard."

Robin's eyebrows shot up. "Joe taught you? He taught me as well, when I was a boy. He was no mean swordsman when he was young and a fair archer as well; though I outshot him when I was about 10." He frowned sadly, thinking of the last time he had seen Joe Lacey. "Age wasn't kind to him."

Marian sighed. "Grief was far less kind than the years. But his mind stayed keen, if driven almost mad with grief and the need to do something about his wife's death."

"Do you feel the need to do something about your father's death?" Robin asked quietly.

"What can I do, more than I am now?" she demanded. "I cannot kill the Sheriff for the sake of the shire, the Canon of Berkley is dead, and I am supporting the outlaw Robin Hood." She smiled at the last reason.

However, Robin shook his head. "You can't support me openly."

"Why ever not?" Marian sat up and pulled away, fixing a steely glare on him.

"Because Marian," Robin sighed in frustration, "we need to leave our possibilities open – such you going back to being our spy in the castle."

"I won't be going back to the castle," she said sharply. "There's nothing there for me anymore. My father died there! Why would I want to go back?" The walls she had built began to crumble, and tears shone in her eyes once again.

"I'm sorry Marian," Robin whispered, gently wiping a tear off her face, the touch lingering as he stroked her cheek. "You're too tired and hurt to think of this right now. I'm sorry I brought it up."

"I brought it up," Marian countered, but simply allowed herself to be taken into another embrace, which was Robin's only response. Cradling her in his arms, Robin leaned back until they were both lying on the bunk, side by side. Marian rested her head on his chest for a moment as he gently played with her hair, and then whispered, "Robin, I would like to go to sleep now."

"Well, then sleep."

"I will. When you're in your own bed."

"Marian-"

"Please, Robin, could you not argue with me for once, and just get over to your own bunk? I want to sleep, and I doubt that will happen if you stay."

Robin's countenance turned roguish, "And why would that be?"

Marian yawned, "We'd be arguing all night long."

With her own roguish grin, she suddenly shoved Robin away. He landed on the floor with a grunt of surprise, and quickly picked himself up. "Good night, Robin," she said sweetly, and burrowed into her blankets.

Robin frowned, but whispered, "A challenge?"

"A statement. Good night."

"Very well." But instead of turning towards his own bunk, he stooped and brushed away the corner of a blanket and a stray lock of hair that concealed Marian's cheek. Kissing her cheekbone gently, he whispered, "Sleep well, my love," and finally went to his own bed.

Just as he was drifting to sleep, he heard Marian whisper softly, "Thank you, Robin." He smiled. Perhaps he wasn't such a traitor for feeling happiness at finally having Marian in the forest. She seemed to be finding some joy under Sherwood's protective canopy as well. He hoped that happiness would stay.

TBC . . .