Short Fic: Broken Arrow
Title:Broken Arrow
Author:alesh101
Word Count:1191
Rating:PG
Characters/Pairings:Robin, mentions Marian, Sheriff, Much, Guy, Djaq
Spoilers/Warnings:Spoilers for end of S2
Summary:Robin is broken in Acre. Companion piece to Bassam's House and Technique from rh_intercomm 2010
Disclaimer: BBC and Tiger Aspect own everyone. NO infringement intended, no money is being made.
Sunlight slid over the walls of Robin's room, shafts of light shifting with the turn of the day. He noted the passage of time, but only peripherally. Most of him was still rooted in sand in that courtyard.
Marian's last breaths tickled his cheek. Her words wound into his head, an endless loop that echoed in his ears. Her skin was soft under his fingertips, a strand of her hair brushed the back of his hand.
You may kiss the bride, she'd said, and he did, gently, for fear he might cause her hurt, even though he knew she would soon be far away from any earthly pain. She asked it of him, and so he did.
Muffled voices came from outside. Much and John were discussing him. From a great distance Robin heard his name repeated over and over, in John's low rumble and Much's high agitated squeak. He waited, but neither of them entered the room, and finally their voices faded as they went away.
It didn't matter.
The sand was what mattered. The gritty sand as he lay on the ground next to her. Her breath, her skin, the strand of hair. Her words. Those mattered.
I promise to love and cherish you, on earth, and especially in Heaven...
Robin's calloused fingers tightened on each other. His hands were clasped together hard enough to bruise, each keeping the other in check. If he allowed them freedom, he didn't know what they would do. The rest of him was content to just lie there on his pallet in the room Djaq had ushered him into a few days ago.
He hadn't eaten, nor had he slept. Djaq brought him food that would have been tempting any other time. She'd laid a veritable feast at his feet, but he touched none of it. It would all be grit and sand in his mouth. And sleep? Impossible.
Once in a while he dozed, but that was exhaustion. The first time he gave in to it he started awake with Gisborne's name on his lips and a snarl twisting his mouth painfully. He'd spit onto the floor, hating the taste of the name, bitter and corrosive on his tongue. Subsequent lapses into sleep were kinder, but not by much. He dreamed of Marian, of the sand and her voice.
You keep fighting for me, Robin...
A tremulous sigh slipped from his mouth. Fight. For what? For justice in England? It didn't exist. Not in England, not anywhere in the world. Not now.
The Sheriff and Gisborne had beaten him. They'd won. They took everything from him, and even now they just kept taking. How could he fight on, for her or anyone else when he was broken, so empty inside he could almost hear wind rushing through the void of his soul? The mere idea made him tired.
But if you don't, you will fail her, a tiny voice in his head spoke up.
“I've failed her already,” Robin whispered to himself. “I didn't protect her the way I should have.” And that was the sticking point, wasn't it? If he had taken better care, if he had put her first, she would never have been here in Acre at all. Gisborne would never have been anywhere near her in the first place. That loathsome dog would not have had the chance to...to...
“Kill her!” The shout exploded from him, all his rage and pain forced into those two words he hadn't been able to even think, let alone voice before this minute. His head dropped to his chest and great gulping sobs tore from him as he let all the feelings he'd been unable to allow himself until now take over.
His body shook, his nose ran, scalding rivers of salt poured from his stinging eyes. Sobbing became a long fit of coughing as he choked on his own grief. But still it came, wave after wave of it, tearing his insides out. Arms and legs curled in to hold himself together.
Finally the sobs subsided to harsh hitches of breath. Robin's head was pounding and the muscles in his arms were trembling from holding himself so tightly. He unfolded his legs and leaned back against the wall. Lethargy was stealing back over him, as if the last moments of emotion had never been.
His still-stinging eyes slid over the room again and caught something twinkling in the corner, caught in the last rays of the sun through the window. Slowly Robin crawled across the room on all fours to the corner and took up Marian's ring. Not the gaudy green thing he'd given her after his proposal, but a different one, a simpler piece with a purple stone.
He realized soon after giving her the green one that it wouldn't have suited her at all. Marian was not about flash, she would have far preferred something simple. Robin had brought it to Acre with him, so that when they convinced the king to come home, he could marry her with a ring she would have liked.
But when she lay dying in the grit and sand, he'd forgotten he had it. Instead the king offered one of his own, a giant red one, as garish as the green. The purple one had gone unremembered, and they buried her with the red.
He must have cast it away in the midst of his rage. Tears threatened again as he looked at the ring. She would have been proud to wear this one.
Robin made his way back to his pallet and lay down. Sleep beckoned, and this time he let it come. He clutched the ring tightly, his talisman against bad dreams.
He woke feeling rested for the first time since they'd arrived in Acre. There were no bad dreams. In fact, he'd not dreamed at all.
Djaq had been in again while he slept, and brought more food. The sweet smell of fruit permeated the room and his stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten in days. Robin devoured everything Djaq left for him, then decided to go searching for more.
As he ate, he'd realized how pathetic he'd been. He should have been finding a way to get back to England before the Sheriff and Gisborne. He'd never avenge Marian's death by lying around in a stupor.
He left his room and wandered into the small courtyard of Bassam's house. Much was there, dozing at the edge of the fountain. When he clapped a hand to Much's shoulder, the other man jumped awake.
“Master?”
“It's time to go home,” Robin heard himself say. Was that his own voice? He sounded terrible! But then he remembered the day before and was no longer surprised by how he sounded.
He spoke with Much a few minutes more, then left the other man to carry out his orders. He trusted Much to do as he asked, and well.
Soon they would be going home. Soon he would show the Sheriff and Gisborne that this broken arrow could still fly. And it would pierce them to the bone.
Author:alesh101
Word Count:1191
Rating:PG
Characters/Pairings:Robin, mentions Marian, Sheriff, Much, Guy, Djaq
Spoilers/Warnings:Spoilers for end of S2
Summary:Robin is broken in Acre. Companion piece to Bassam's House and Technique from rh_intercomm 2010
Disclaimer: BBC and Tiger Aspect own everyone. NO infringement intended, no money is being made.
Sunlight slid over the walls of Robin's room, shafts of light shifting with the turn of the day. He noted the passage of time, but only peripherally. Most of him was still rooted in sand in that courtyard.
Marian's last breaths tickled his cheek. Her words wound into his head, an endless loop that echoed in his ears. Her skin was soft under his fingertips, a strand of her hair brushed the back of his hand.
You may kiss the bride, she'd said, and he did, gently, for fear he might cause her hurt, even though he knew she would soon be far away from any earthly pain. She asked it of him, and so he did.
Muffled voices came from outside. Much and John were discussing him. From a great distance Robin heard his name repeated over and over, in John's low rumble and Much's high agitated squeak. He waited, but neither of them entered the room, and finally their voices faded as they went away.
It didn't matter.
The sand was what mattered. The gritty sand as he lay on the ground next to her. Her breath, her skin, the strand of hair. Her words. Those mattered.
I promise to love and cherish you, on earth, and especially in Heaven...
Robin's calloused fingers tightened on each other. His hands were clasped together hard enough to bruise, each keeping the other in check. If he allowed them freedom, he didn't know what they would do. The rest of him was content to just lie there on his pallet in the room Djaq had ushered him into a few days ago.
He hadn't eaten, nor had he slept. Djaq brought him food that would have been tempting any other time. She'd laid a veritable feast at his feet, but he touched none of it. It would all be grit and sand in his mouth. And sleep? Impossible.
Once in a while he dozed, but that was exhaustion. The first time he gave in to it he started awake with Gisborne's name on his lips and a snarl twisting his mouth painfully. He'd spit onto the floor, hating the taste of the name, bitter and corrosive on his tongue. Subsequent lapses into sleep were kinder, but not by much. He dreamed of Marian, of the sand and her voice.
You keep fighting for me, Robin...
A tremulous sigh slipped from his mouth. Fight. For what? For justice in England? It didn't exist. Not in England, not anywhere in the world. Not now.
The Sheriff and Gisborne had beaten him. They'd won. They took everything from him, and even now they just kept taking. How could he fight on, for her or anyone else when he was broken, so empty inside he could almost hear wind rushing through the void of his soul? The mere idea made him tired.
But if you don't, you will fail her, a tiny voice in his head spoke up.
“I've failed her already,” Robin whispered to himself. “I didn't protect her the way I should have.” And that was the sticking point, wasn't it? If he had taken better care, if he had put her first, she would never have been here in Acre at all. Gisborne would never have been anywhere near her in the first place. That loathsome dog would not have had the chance to...to...
“Kill her!” The shout exploded from him, all his rage and pain forced into those two words he hadn't been able to even think, let alone voice before this minute. His head dropped to his chest and great gulping sobs tore from him as he let all the feelings he'd been unable to allow himself until now take over.
His body shook, his nose ran, scalding rivers of salt poured from his stinging eyes. Sobbing became a long fit of coughing as he choked on his own grief. But still it came, wave after wave of it, tearing his insides out. Arms and legs curled in to hold himself together.
Finally the sobs subsided to harsh hitches of breath. Robin's head was pounding and the muscles in his arms were trembling from holding himself so tightly. He unfolded his legs and leaned back against the wall. Lethargy was stealing back over him, as if the last moments of emotion had never been.
His still-stinging eyes slid over the room again and caught something twinkling in the corner, caught in the last rays of the sun through the window. Slowly Robin crawled across the room on all fours to the corner and took up Marian's ring. Not the gaudy green thing he'd given her after his proposal, but a different one, a simpler piece with a purple stone.
He realized soon after giving her the green one that it wouldn't have suited her at all. Marian was not about flash, she would have far preferred something simple. Robin had brought it to Acre with him, so that when they convinced the king to come home, he could marry her with a ring she would have liked.
But when she lay dying in the grit and sand, he'd forgotten he had it. Instead the king offered one of his own, a giant red one, as garish as the green. The purple one had gone unremembered, and they buried her with the red.
He must have cast it away in the midst of his rage. Tears threatened again as he looked at the ring. She would have been proud to wear this one.
Robin made his way back to his pallet and lay down. Sleep beckoned, and this time he let it come. He clutched the ring tightly, his talisman against bad dreams.
He woke feeling rested for the first time since they'd arrived in Acre. There were no bad dreams. In fact, he'd not dreamed at all.
Djaq had been in again while he slept, and brought more food. The sweet smell of fruit permeated the room and his stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten in days. Robin devoured everything Djaq left for him, then decided to go searching for more.
As he ate, he'd realized how pathetic he'd been. He should have been finding a way to get back to England before the Sheriff and Gisborne. He'd never avenge Marian's death by lying around in a stupor.
He left his room and wandered into the small courtyard of Bassam's house. Much was there, dozing at the edge of the fountain. When he clapped a hand to Much's shoulder, the other man jumped awake.
“Master?”
“It's time to go home,” Robin heard himself say. Was that his own voice? He sounded terrible! But then he remembered the day before and was no longer surprised by how he sounded.
He spoke with Much a few minutes more, then left the other man to carry out his orders. He trusted Much to do as he asked, and well.
Soon they would be going home. Soon he would show the Sheriff and Gisborne that this broken arrow could still fly. And it would pierce them to the bone.