Title: A Torn Man
Author: ArcAlatus
Pairings: Robin/Marian
Rating: PG-13 (nothing much happens besides a smooch, but one of them is barely clothed and they are sharing a bed.)
Timeline: A bit alternate universe, I'd say between 1x04/05
Disclaimer: It all belongs to the BBC and Tiger Aspect Productions
Summary: It's winter (and in the series, it's never winter) and Robin is shoot by the Sheriff's hunters and ends up in front of Marian's window.

Author's Note: I just finished "Wintersmith" and saw "Hogsfather" by Terry Pratchett and it inspired me to write something about Robin & Marian and the winter that never was in the series.

A Torn Man (2/2)

by ArcAlatus

When Robin woke in the early hours of the morning, the first thing he felt was utter and complete exhaustion. If Guy of Gisborne or the Sheriff himself would have ordered him out of this bed, he would not be able to follow their command.

At least, if they were to stab him right here and right now, he would die happily in this bed.

His brain blinked at the thought. In this bed, he repeated silently. In a bed. He was in a bed? He felt the softness of a cushion under his head. It most certainly felt like a bed, but there was something else.

He tried to make his spirits return, but it was impossible to do anything at all. He felt the faint burning of several wounds and knew, if he were to move, the burning would rise to a wildfire. Also, exhaustion chained him down and ... something else.

He took a deep breath.

The smell of strawberry, sandalwood and something unique he would recognize anywhere tingled in his nose and Robin was tempted to not believe it.

Opening his eyes, he found himself staring at an immaculate plain of perfect skin and several strands of dark, shiny hair. He had his nose pressed against the warm skin, he realised, just a bit, so the tip of it wouldn't get cold. When his thoughts became aware to the rest of his body, he realised he was touching something warm, soft and impossible.

He raised his glance to see a chin, strawberry lips, a tiny nose and closed eyes with dark, golden eyelashes. The lips were parted, only just, and the hair covered the cushion and parts of his own neck.

They were facing each other, he noted, one of her hands on his chest, the other entangled with his own hand. Their legs were entwined – if he were to fall out of the bed, she had no choice but to follow him.

And, when he located his other hand, he noticed it around her waist, almost clinging desperately to her. It was a strange thing, he thought, that his head was tucked under her chin, when in the past, usually, it had been the other way round.

In the past, five years ago, when things had been right, he had always comforted her and not the other way round, but this time ...

Five years, and lots of things had changed, even visible in such a tiny things like waking up like this.

Robin moved slightly, until his eyes were on the same level as hers. The burning of his injuries rose a bit, but settled down to an uncomfortable humming in the background he could live with. He didn't notice much, as other things captured his entire attention.

Her face was so close, her eyelashes almost touched his cheeks. Her breath formed warm puffs against his nose and her lips ...

She was perfect, he realized. Radiant. Flawless.

It was a perfect moment, laying with her in her bed, the rising sun's first rays playing in her hair, making it look like a halo. He moved and the tip of his nose touched hers.

The feeling of skin against skin re-vibrated in his entire body, made it hum with sheer, intoxicated happiness.

What had possessed him to leave her?

A boy, hungry for glory, not realizing how wealthy and lucky he had been, running off with a King whose crown sparkled so much, it lured him and thousands of others into a bloody death in a land were the sun marked your skin with scars if you stayed too much under that blue sky.

Things suddenly started to come back to him: The feeling of getting roasted inside his armour, remembered the smell of the dying soldiers from both sides, the feeling of sticking a sword into the other person and the desperate urge to see the dying man not as a human being, but as something else – something remotely resembling an animal.

Unconsciously, he tightened his grip around her. Eyelashes tickled his cheeks and suddenly, he was under the blue sky again that could not scar his skin, but his very soul.

Marian was looking at him and he felt her pulling away, until she saw the look on his face and froze.

"Robin?" she asked, her voice soft, her brow furrowing. "Are you crying?"

"No," he managed. He let go of her hand and tried to wipe away the wetness on his cheeks. "No, it was just --" This time, he tried to pull away, but, to his surprise, she wouldn't let him.

"Robin?" she asked. Worry coloured her voice. There were so many questions linked to his name the way she spoke it. Are you feeling well? What happened? Are you hurting? Did you have a bad dream? Do you want to talk about it?

Do you want to talk about it?

The physical closeness they were sharing had removed so many barriers which had risen between them, but some were still intact. The barriers of a little boy who tried to protect a girl their parents had given to him. The little boy who had promised himself to be strong; for her sake.

Robin had realized long ago that it was a difficult task even for the mightiest warrior to be stronger than Marian and the thought scared him.

"I can't," he managed. His voice was hoarse and he almost sobbed.

He had to get away from her, or walls would crumble he was not ready to see crumble. She was doing it again. He tried to move, but he was too weak, too hurting and Marian was suddenly quite adamant to keep him in bed with her.

Another Robin at another time would have laughed at the irony of it all.

The fact that suddenly her warmth and her concern were directed at him along with something else so old as their acquaintance itself didn't make it better.

"Marian, you have to let me leave you," he said, his voice strained. He was craving for some time to collect his thoughts, to get away from her presence, to push the blue skies back into the deepest corners where they belonged.

And he just couldn't believe what was happening. The blood loss, his injuries, his return, the fact that, since he had come back from the Holy Land, he had never spend so much time with her, her physical presence among other things ...

The circumstance that he still madly, deeply desperately loved her so much his heart was bleeding.

That she was so beautiful, it hurt ...

"I'm endangering you by just staying in your house. Not to mention your bed." He tried to laugh, but just couldn't. Everything had suddenly been ripped apart and was different in the light of this new morning.

And, from the look on Marian's face, she was going to make the most of it.

"Five years ago, you staying at my house would've provided me the security I just needed, and now, you leaving it will have to do the trick." She smiled cruelly. "Isn't that interesting?" For a second, the image of a young Robin without a beard and with lively blue eyes rose before her. She just had to smile at him to make him stumble, falter, make him fail in his concentration. He had been so happy, and she knew, he had been so smitten with her, so loving and kind. So crazy about her.

And she had returned the feeling.

And still, it had been not enough. He had left her, because it had not been enough.

"You left me then, and you are going to leave me now. And still, I don't understand the reason for the former and for the latter." She shifted her head to look at him from a different angle and repeated her earlier words. "Isn't that interesting?"

He shook his head. "I'm sorry I left," he said, squirming. "I truly am. And I'm grateful you looked after me and my wounds this night, but you have to let me go. If your father notices --"

"I had an argument with him last night. A very intentional misconduct. He won't wonder about why I locked the door. He won't surprise you in here."

"You argued with your father, so you could lock the door and protect me?" he asked incredulously.

She didn't even blink. "You were about to answer a question."

"Marian --"

"Do you realize how much sorrow your departure has brought upon us?" she snapped. Apparently, now, with both of them more or less clothed and him being almost unconscious from the effort the just get away from her, she now wanted to do some soul searching.

Women, something in his mind, whispered, but before he could indulge in the thought, Marian continued talking.

"You were gone and no one was there to oppose the new regime. No one was there to lead the lords. No one was there to protect my father from being removed from office. Because you had to go to the Holy Land for glory." She spat out the last word like a particularly bad insult.

"Believe me, it wasn't that easy," he began, but was quickly interrupted.

"Oh? And what wasn't easy about running away, Robin of Loxley?" she asked. "Mounting the horse and just riding towards the sunset? It must have been a really hard thing to do."

Robin shook his head at her growing anger. His wounds were burning – he was again under the blue sky. "You don't understand, Marian --"

"Then make me," she ordered him. "Make me understand why you would travel a thousand miles to get killed and leave the people you lov – cared so much about." Her eyebrows rose an inch. "Well?"

"Now?" he asked. He motioned towards their surroundings. "Here?"

"Now is as good as any time."

"I went with King Richard to protect the country," he stated. He leant closer – their facing were almost touching, but neither of them seemed to notice it. "To protect you – and your father, and Nottingham. I went there, so you didn't have to see what I see."

Marian searched his eyes. "There were so many going – a Robin of Locksley wouldn't have made a difference."

"I saved the King's life! Twice!"

"And if you hadn't done that, someone else would have done it. You were twenty, Robin! Don't tell me, there wasn't a single man in the entire Kingdom who would not have been able to take your place. And is fighting in a foreign country so much more honourable, than fighting at home, protecting your people?"

Robin rolled his eyes. "You don't understand. You won't understand. It's useless." He tried to sit up – stars rose before his eyes and his head began to spin. And Marian, the beautiful, merciless Marian, who had followed him to the Holy Land and haunted him in his dreams there, would not let it go.

She was so angry, he realized, and so beautiful. If she didn't stop, he would --

"I don't understand, because I wasn't there? Because I wasn't a soldier? Because I loved my people more than my king? Robin? Hm?"

His voice was getting forceful. "You don't understand! I love Nottingham, and I love everyone living there! I was trying to honour you! All of you!"

"By getting yourself killed?" she seethed.

"I didn't get killed! I returned! I'm going to set things straight!"

"Then why did you leave in the first place?"

"I cannot tell you!" Desperation was growing in his voice.

"Because I'm a woman? Because I'm not a knight? Because I'm too weak, too stupid to understand?"

"You know that's not the truth!"

"Then why?"

He was stumbling over the words now, driven to the edge. "I was – I was trying to become stronger!"

"Stronger?" she huffed. "You were already strong! You were your father's son! Everyone knew you were strong! You knew you were strong! Why are you lying to me?"

"I'm not lying to you!" he shouted.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" she replied at the same volume. "What was the true reason?"

"You wouldn't understand!"

"What wouldn't I understand? Why you would go voluntarily to a war when so many people needed you here?"

"I went to that war because I love you!"

She stared at him and he slumped down, his head hitting the cushion. He was heavily breathing now, staring at the ceiling, and the life seemed to have drained from his face. His bandages, all three of them, had red stains on them now.

For some heartbeats, there was silence. He didn't look at her, he just stared at the space in front of his eyes, while she look down at him, propped up on one elbow.

"What?" she whispered.

He didn't answer; he still seemed to be completely out of breath.

Marian closed the distance between them, leaned down and took his face into her hands, forcing him to look at her. He tried to avoid her, tried to look past her, but she wouldn't let him. Finally, their glances met.

"Robin", she whispered softly. Her voice was dripping from the previously hidden affection for him, and from confusion. She wasn't sure, if she was trembling, or if it was him – they were so close now, it didn't matter. "Tell me. The truth," she added, urging him to break the silence.

He stared at her wordlessly, tried to squirm away, but she didn't let him go. She had let him go once, she was not going to allow it again. Marian literally pinned him down with her own weight – and his injuries made it all the more difficult to move.

Suddenly, with a jerk, he shook his head. He pressed his lips together and she saw wetness forming in his eyes. "You have no idea," he whispered hoarsely. "No idea, how angry father was, before he died. How angry he was at me for loving you."

"But -- he supported the engagement," she started, but Robin shook his head.

"That was not it," he said. "No." He shook his head and his hand rose. Marian watched it in the corner of her eyes, touching her hair, playing with it. "'She makes you look like a fool!'" he said, repeating the words his old man had shouted at him so many years ago. There was half a smile, mixed with tears on his face, while he continued to play with her hair and sorted out her strands. "'You fell off the horse again, when you saw her! Even Much is able to shoot better than you when she is around.'" He laughed, hoarsely, full of bitterness, when he thought about all the things his father had told him. "'How are you going to protect your people if you tremble every time your future wife touches you? Are you going to lock her up in Loxley Manor every time you have to make a difficult decision?" He sighed and stared at Marian's hair between his forefinger and thumb. "'If you are going to continue in this manner, I will end this betrothment!'"

Marian just stared, thunderstruck. "He didn't say that."

He snorted. "There were worse things he called me. He died, not really peacefully, I can tell you – and he made me promise him to get stronger in order to --" Again that half smile. "To not fall off the horse every time you came to visit me. And I --" He sighed and his forehead disappeared under all the wrinkles, when he continued to study a single lock of her hair. "I was very young and made the foolish decision to become stronger by accompanying my King to the Holy Land and --" He met her eyes. "To leave you in the process." His hand wandered to her cheek and to her parted, strawberry coloured lips. His fingers graced them, marvelling at their softness. "I know you were under the assumption that I left you because I didn't love you enough. As a matter of fact, quite the contrary is true – I left you because I loved you too much."

His tears had started to mirror hers. One, two of them dripped down on his cheeks and Marian smiled through them. "Was it so difficult to tell me that?" she asked.

Robin smiled, reached up and tried to remove the wetness from her face, just as she tried to remove his. "Marian," he whispered, looking up into her two blue skies. "You have no idea."

She blinked once and they were gone, leaving behind two blue, sparkling eyes with wet eyelashes and beautiful strawberry lips.

And her bubbly laughter, following his words was muffled by his lips when he kissed her. It was the first time he felt her smiling under his lips and when when they separated, he saw the glow in her eyes he had missed so much and had dreamt about when he had been away.

"I loved – and still love you so much, it hurts." He rolled his eyes. "Much can sing a song about my wailing."

"But you have stopped falling off your horse," she almost reproached, skimming his nose. She drew nearer, until their foreheads touched. They were so close now – and his hands wandered over her back and almost touched regions of her body which were usually reserved for the wedding night. It made her all tingly inside.

"I wait until you are gone; then I fall off my horse," he answered, smiling. He tried to kiss her again, but her finger stopped him.

"Just one thing," she told him earnestly. "No matter, how difficult it has been in the past, no matter how childishly you have acted, how often I admonish you and no matter how unwise I find you actions time and again – I love you. Very much so. So much, it sometimes hurts."

He smiled smugly at her and out of habit, she wanted to smack him for it, but Robin just turned around, took her with him and kissed her mercilessly.

And, for the first time in half a decade, there was hope under the blue sky.

And love.

End (2/2)