"So – tell me about yourself."

Sipping her wine and watching Guy from over the rim of the glass, Marian smiled at the question. After the revelation concerning their past lives, the day had been relatively quiet and uneventful – no terrorist attacks or threats on the UK, which was an anomaly for the MI-5 team, as any of the veterans could attest to. Marian had checked in with Harry after work and given him her report on how she found her new job. Guy had waited for her to finish and then escorted her to a nearby restaurant for their first date.

The first of many, Marian had promised. She and Guy had never really stood a chance before, but she was determined to rectify that now. However, what both would have to realize was that they weren't the same people they had once been. Despite the sudden influx of memories, they weren't Sir Guy of Gisborne and the Lady Marian anymore. They had their own lives separate from the past, different experiences that had shaped them and made them who they were.

"Well," she began, choosing her words carefully. "I'm twenty-six years old, an only child; I recently graduated from Cambridge University; I like to sing, I've been in choir for as long as I can remember; my favorite books to read are historical fiction novels, although I have a particular fondness for Jane Austen, especially Pride and Prejudice; I'm an animal lover, especially of horses, and I'd love nothing more than to be a vegetarian except for the fact that I can't stand vegetables—"

A burst of laughter escaped Guy's mouth before he could help himself – Marian was a unique individual, there was no denying – and he reveled in Marian's gaze, her eyes twinkling with amusement and a fond smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

"Yes, my mum despaired of me as a child," she said, continuing their conversation almost without pause. "I was closer to her than to dad, up until she died, and then he and I became better friends until he also died."

"Marian, I'm sorry," said Guy, reaching across the table for her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "How long have you been alone?"

"I had to put myself through college," Marian replied succinctly. "Still, in a way I'm glad. Now I don't have to worry about my parents being used as leverage if I'm captured and interrogated on a mission. In this line of work, that was my main concern. I didn't want them to be hurt or put in danger because of me."

"Understandable. If I had any family left I'd feel the same."

Marian smiled tightly, desperate to lighten the mood and distract them both from any gloomy thoughts related to their past – of this life, at least. "What about you?" she asked. "What's your story?"

"Well, I was born and raised in Cambria; my father was a Methodist minister there. Like you, I have no siblings, although stray animals often adopted us for short periods of time before moving on. I think that's partly what helped me learn to never form attachments: I knew they would eventually leave. I never really had any friends; even at a young age I apparently had some sort of mysterious air about me that warned people off. I read a lot, mostly John le Carré and Shakespeare. After high school, I studied at Leeds University before joining MI-5." Guy took a deep, steadying breath. If he knew Marian at all, and he thought he did, then the next part of his narrative would be extremely difficult – for both of them.

"During a mission in Russia, I was captured and imprisoned—"

As expected, Marian gasped, her eyes widening in horror, and her grip on Guy's hand tightened. "Oh, Guy," she whispered breathlessly, "For how long?"

"Eight years."

Marian swore under her breath, and Guy had to hide a smile at her un-ladylike behavior. Then again, while she may have once held the title of 'Lady,' she certainly hadn't followed society's dictates that she stay at home and embroider. Rather, she had done as any man had – one with guts anyway, like Hood, Guy grudgingly admitted – with her exploits as the Night Watchman.

Recovering her composure, Marian returned her attention to Guy. "When did you get back?" she asked.

"A couple years ago. Harry made a trade with the Russians: me, for one of their prisoners that we were holding at the time."

"How are you coping?" Marian asked, her thumb rubbing soothing circles in the palm of Guy's hand.

Guy shivered, her touch sending chills down his spine as he recalled with vivid clarity the last time they were in such close contact with one another: sand; the hot sun burning, scorching; him, clad in black leather, with a sword in his hand; her, running across the sand, her brown locks framing her beautiful face and cascading down her back and around her shoulders. Marian had worn a white dress that day, as he recalled, making him wish for simpler times when they might have been happy as man and wife...

Shaking himself from his recollections, Guy spoke casually, attempting to downplay his experience with Russian 'hospitality.' "As well as can be expected," he replied.

"What did they... do to you?" Marian spoke haltingly, afraid to bring up bad memories. But she didn't understand: Guy's entire life had been a never-ending nightmare that he had been unable to escape. And although he hadn't remembered his past life while in prison, he could be grateful now for the torture he had been subjected to, his suffering a penance for what he'd done to Marian, his pain all he could offer in exchange for having taken her life.

"The usual: various forms of torture, beatings, isolation..."

Marian, however, wasn't fooled by his apparent-nonchalance. "You didn't remember me... at the time," she hurried to clarify. "But now you're thinking that you deserve what you went through because of what you did to me."

Guy's eyes darted to her face for a split-second before dropping to the tabletop. Damn! Was he that easy to read?

"You might be able to fool the others, Guy," said Marian, taking his silence as confirmation that she was right in her deduction, "But not me; never me."

"You always have been the exception, haven't you, Marian?" Guy chuckled fondly, his eyes suspiciously bright. "Yes, I've always felt incomplete, as though something was missing from my life – you. In prison, the feelings of guilt that I'd always been plagued with came to the forefront and my interrogators used that to their advantage. But I never talked, about anything that they questioned me on. I just wanted to be punished for whatever wrong I had committed."

"I think you've done enough, Guy," said Marian, ducking low to catch his eye, "Now it's time to forgive yourself."

"Marian, you don't understand," he whispered, his eyes boring intently into hers. "You are the love of my life, and I can never do enough to repent for killing you."

Taken aback by his startling revelation, Marian could only stare at Guy in shock. As the silence continued to stretch on, Guy sensed that perhaps he had been a bit too forthright too soon, and so he smiled disarmingly at her.

"Don't worry, Marian," he said, attempting to play his feelings off as a joke. "I'm not about to get down on one knee and declare myself."

"No, it's not that," Marian hastened to assure him. "I'm well on my way to being in love with you, too. It's just... I never knew that your feelings for me ran so deep or were so intense. I always thought that I was nothing more than a prize or possession, a way for you to gain lands."

"Initially, that may have been true," Guy acceded. "But I soon came to love you for yourself and not just what you represented to me."

"I'm glad to hear that," said Marian, smiling gently at him and squeezing his hand. Addressing her previous statement before Guy could even open his mouth, she said, "I want to do things right with you this time around, Guy. So let's take it slow, okay?"

"As long as I know that I have a chance with you," he replied, following her train of thought back to when she practically declared her love for him.

"You have more than a chance, Guy, as long as we survive this job long enough to plan for the future."

"I have no intentions of letting you die," Guy said firmly, his eyes hardening to steel flint at the thought of a second lifetime spent without Marian by his side.

"Only promise me that you'll take care of yourself, too," Marian implored him. "I don't want to be a widow before I've even been a bride."

"I promise," Guy sighed heavily. Although tempted to throw himself in danger's path, as he had in times past as a way of atoning for the multitude of wrongs he had committed – albeit unwittingly, at least in this lifetime – where Marian was concerned, he would live for her sake – and perhaps learn how to live for his own sake, as well.