Intercomm: Static
Title: Static
Author: secretchord
Word Count: 1,044
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Robin, Marian, R/M, slight hint of G/M
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: A companion piece to A Higher Path Imagined. Marian marries Guy at the end of S1, and Robin pays her a visit a few days later.
Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC.
He waited until the lord had gone before sneaking into her room. She gave a small start when she saw him, and then the surprise turned to annoyance.
“You could have knocked.”
“I came in through the window!”
Her eyes narrowed, then rolled, and a silence lingered between them, during which her face softened and she looked at him with something like sympathy, and he felt something twist inside of him. And he began to pace.
She watched him, hands at her sides. Her fingers curled against her skirt.
“Robin...”
“I'm thinking.”
He knew it was useless. The deed was done. She was now a married woman, married to the man who had stolen everything from him. But he couldn't sit still and take it. There had to be something...
“Robin-”
“You can come to the forest.”
She paused, mouth open. Staring. He felt his nostrils flare in an effort to keep himself controlled, keep himself from charging into the castle and into the Great Hall and killing the sheriff and the black beast that was always at his side. Keep himself from pulling her into him. She would hate him for doing any of those things.
A small sigh escaped her.
“That is impossible.”
“Marian-”
“Think of my father,” she pleaded, eyes wide and bluer than the midmorning sky. “If I left...there would be no way for me to protect him.”
“I could protect him.”
“How? Bring him to live in the forest, too?”
“Why not?” he shouted, knowing as the words came that it had been a petulant thing to say. But Marian did not scold him for it. She stepped closer, put a hand near his face, looked at him and into him while he forgot to breathe.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “You have no idea how sorry. But things are what they are. I have my place now, and you have yours. I am protected. I can do good things as his wife, with the station he has given me. I can help your people and mine.”
He felt his face pinch and tighten. He touched a finger to her hair.
“That's not what this is about.”
She closed her eyes. He closed his, and leaned closer to take in her scent, her presence, her softness.
But he only felt air.
He opened his eyes, and saw her standing a few feet away, near the window he had come in through. She would not look at him.
He didn't know why he had come. He didn't know what he had thought he could change. He stared at the walls of his house and asked himself what he was supposed to do now, now that he had no name or home or possession. Now that Marian was another's.
The sun washed the floor in pale gold. He turned and saw her haloed in the same light, and he realized how selfish he'd been, sneaking in and demanding and needing. He stayed where he was, and let his voice cross the distance between them.
“Has it been...hard for you?”
She did not immediately answer.
Outside, below, the manor servants were laughing. She bowed her head, and moved back from the window, into the sunlight's neighboring shadow.
“I wish you wouldn't ask me,” she said.
He clenched his hands into fists.
“He's hurt you. Marian, I beg of you, come with me-”
“He hasn't hurt me,” she interrupted him quietly, still turned to the window, still standing in the shadows. He waited for her to say more, to explain herself. But there was only quiet in the room, separate from the noise of activity and strange voices outside the room, outside the strange world they'd set themselves up in.
“It cannot be easy for you,” he murmured, daring to take a step closer. More silence. Another step. Then another, until she finally noticed him approaching and turned her head, and he was thrown that she had no tears on her cheeks, no evidence of suffering, no shame. Only apprehension. He stared into her eyes, her beautiful mesmerizing eyes which were all the more mystifying for their clarity. “Marian, talk to me. I want to help you.”
“Robin....” She licked her lips and took a deep breath. “That's what I'm trying to tell you. I don't need your help. I don't need rescuing. I am not -” She broke off, then shook her head. “I do not wish to talk to you about it. We cannot. My loyalty, as it is, has to belong to my husband now.”
Robin scoffed and turned away to begin pacing again.
“This is impossible,” he said, as much to himself as to her.
“No,” came her steady reply, “Only difficult.”
“How can you do this, put up with-”
“Because I must! Because that is what people do, Robin!”
He stilled, and looked at her. Her face was flushed, her jaw rigid. She pinned him with a look he'd seen before, a look that expressed all her strength and reason. All her certainty of what was right. “We take what each day gives us. We try out best to overcome our hardships, and Robin, we can do no more. So stop. Please. We cannot go back. We cannot have what we once hoped for. We must...accept what has happened.” She swallowed thickly, and her frustration gave way to something softer. “Please. You must accept it.”
But there was nothing he wanted less. He drank her in, drank in her loveliness, her excellence, every facet of her face and figure and spirit that made her, in his eyes, a creature beyond perfection. A myth, now. A dream from which he had been awakened.
They looked at each other for a long moment. The stillness stretched into an eternity, and finally, finally, the reality settled.
Nothing had changed. He could not save her anymore. He could not hope for her anymore. He didn't know why he had come. She was still forever beyond his reach, a band of shadows and sunlight that he could feel, but no longer touch.
Author: secretchord
Word Count: 1,044
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Robin, Marian, R/M, slight hint of G/M
Spoilers/Warnings: None.
Summary: A companion piece to A Higher Path Imagined. Marian marries Guy at the end of S1, and Robin pays her a visit a few days later.
Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC.
He waited until the lord had gone before sneaking into her room. She gave a small start when she saw him, and then the surprise turned to annoyance.
“You could have knocked.”
“I came in through the window!”
Her eyes narrowed, then rolled, and a silence lingered between them, during which her face softened and she looked at him with something like sympathy, and he felt something twist inside of him. And he began to pace.
She watched him, hands at her sides. Her fingers curled against her skirt.
“Robin...”
“I'm thinking.”
He knew it was useless. The deed was done. She was now a married woman, married to the man who had stolen everything from him. But he couldn't sit still and take it. There had to be something...
“Robin-”
“You can come to the forest.”
She paused, mouth open. Staring. He felt his nostrils flare in an effort to keep himself controlled, keep himself from charging into the castle and into the Great Hall and killing the sheriff and the black beast that was always at his side. Keep himself from pulling her into him. She would hate him for doing any of those things.
A small sigh escaped her.
“That is impossible.”
“Marian-”
“Think of my father,” she pleaded, eyes wide and bluer than the midmorning sky. “If I left...there would be no way for me to protect him.”
“I could protect him.”
“How? Bring him to live in the forest, too?”
“Why not?” he shouted, knowing as the words came that it had been a petulant thing to say. But Marian did not scold him for it. She stepped closer, put a hand near his face, looked at him and into him while he forgot to breathe.
“I'm sorry,” she said. “You have no idea how sorry. But things are what they are. I have my place now, and you have yours. I am protected. I can do good things as his wife, with the station he has given me. I can help your people and mine.”
He felt his face pinch and tighten. He touched a finger to her hair.
“That's not what this is about.”
She closed her eyes. He closed his, and leaned closer to take in her scent, her presence, her softness.
But he only felt air.
He opened his eyes, and saw her standing a few feet away, near the window he had come in through. She would not look at him.
He didn't know why he had come. He didn't know what he had thought he could change. He stared at the walls of his house and asked himself what he was supposed to do now, now that he had no name or home or possession. Now that Marian was another's.
The sun washed the floor in pale gold. He turned and saw her haloed in the same light, and he realized how selfish he'd been, sneaking in and demanding and needing. He stayed where he was, and let his voice cross the distance between them.
“Has it been...hard for you?”
She did not immediately answer.
Outside, below, the manor servants were laughing. She bowed her head, and moved back from the window, into the sunlight's neighboring shadow.
“I wish you wouldn't ask me,” she said.
He clenched his hands into fists.
“He's hurt you. Marian, I beg of you, come with me-”
“He hasn't hurt me,” she interrupted him quietly, still turned to the window, still standing in the shadows. He waited for her to say more, to explain herself. But there was only quiet in the room, separate from the noise of activity and strange voices outside the room, outside the strange world they'd set themselves up in.
“It cannot be easy for you,” he murmured, daring to take a step closer. More silence. Another step. Then another, until she finally noticed him approaching and turned her head, and he was thrown that she had no tears on her cheeks, no evidence of suffering, no shame. Only apprehension. He stared into her eyes, her beautiful mesmerizing eyes which were all the more mystifying for their clarity. “Marian, talk to me. I want to help you.”
“Robin....” She licked her lips and took a deep breath. “That's what I'm trying to tell you. I don't need your help. I don't need rescuing. I am not -” She broke off, then shook her head. “I do not wish to talk to you about it. We cannot. My loyalty, as it is, has to belong to my husband now.”
Robin scoffed and turned away to begin pacing again.
“This is impossible,” he said, as much to himself as to her.
“No,” came her steady reply, “Only difficult.”
“How can you do this, put up with-”
“Because I must! Because that is what people do, Robin!”
He stilled, and looked at her. Her face was flushed, her jaw rigid. She pinned him with a look he'd seen before, a look that expressed all her strength and reason. All her certainty of what was right. “We take what each day gives us. We try out best to overcome our hardships, and Robin, we can do no more. So stop. Please. We cannot go back. We cannot have what we once hoped for. We must...accept what has happened.” She swallowed thickly, and her frustration gave way to something softer. “Please. You must accept it.”
But there was nothing he wanted less. He drank her in, drank in her loveliness, her excellence, every facet of her face and figure and spirit that made her, in his eyes, a creature beyond perfection. A myth, now. A dream from which he had been awakened.
They looked at each other for a long moment. The stillness stretched into an eternity, and finally, finally, the reality settled.
Nothing had changed. He could not save her anymore. He could not hope for her anymore. He didn't know why he had come. She was still forever beyond his reach, a band of shadows and sunlight that he could feel, but no longer touch.