Robert crept down the darkened corridor, careful not to wake the others sleeping in this part of the castle. He padded down the stairs, heading for what had once been the castle cafe. Striking a match on the counter, he lit a couple of candles. Then, taking a glass, he opened a cupboard and took a bottle of water from a pack, one of a batch his men had found out on their travels. He looked at it. There weren't many still around, but even this was somehow mocking him — reminding him he'd returned to a life he'd once turned his back on. When he'd been in Sherwood, he'd caught his own water and filtered it. Now, it was like that had never happened. Hanging his head, he unscrewed the lid and poured.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and dropped the glass, spinning round, simultaneously grabbing whoever was behind him by the throat and shoving them against the wall.
Robert was breathing hard. He blinked, and realised the figure he was holding was a woman with short hair.
"I… I'm sorry…" croaked Adele. "I…"
Horrified, Robert let her go. "No, I'm… You shouldn't creep up on me like that."
She rubbed her throat and said hoarsely: "I… I wasn't creeping, Robert. Honestly. I had to go to the loo and got lost finding my way back. This place is so huge, and I'm still figuring it all out."
Robert's breathing slowed. God, he really was losing his touch; there was a time he would have heard… felt someone come up behind him. If it had been an assassin, they'd have plunged a knife into him before he could even turn.
"I saw the light and, well, if I'd realised you wanted to be alone…" Adele said sadly.
"It's not that. I just…" Robert shook his head. "Did I hurt you?"
Adele coughed and smiled. "Nothing a glass of water won't fix."
Robert walked back to the counter, then stooped to pick up the bits of broken glass. He looked across when Adele followed him, noticing what she was wearing for the first time. A man's shirt — probably Jack's because it was so big — with the sleeves rolled up… and nothing else. Her long legs looked pale in the light from the candle, and he chastised himself for letting his eyes linger on them before getting back to his task.
"You're very fast, you know."
"Hmm? Not nearly as fast as I used to be."
Adele leaned on the counter, watching him pick up the final pieces of glass. "You're joking? You really had me back there. And the way you tackled those hooligans back in York!"
Robert put the glass in a bin. "It was nothing." That sounded better in his head than it did out loud. Why didn't you go the whole way and add, aw shucks? "It's what I do. Well, what I did."
"Did?"
Robert joined her at the counter, then rounded the other side — partly to fetch another couple of glasses, partly to put a physical barrier between them. He poured her some water and she sipped it gladly. But she wasn't going to be distracted. "You said did; past tense?"
Robert took a swig of his own water. "It's just that lately I've felt like I'm not doing any good anymore."
"I don't understand."
"I'm stuck here all the time. Organising."
"Then if it makes you feel like this, perhaps you shouldn't be." Adele put the glass down and absently ran her finger around the rim. "I've always been a big believer in following your heart." She looked up at him. "What's it telling you?"
"That's the thing: it's not telling me anything. Or at least nothing I can trust." Robert let out a breath. "I don't know why I'm dumping all this on you. I barely even know you."
Adele smiled again. "Sometimes it's easier to talk to a stranger than someone… Well, you know."
Robert nodded. "Sometimes I guess it is."
"This Mary you're with," said Adele after a pause. "She seems really nice."
"She is," Robert said without hesitation, then took another drink.
"It's really late. I should be at least trying to get some rest I suppose. Not that it's easy in a new place."
"If it helps, you're safe now."
"That why you're so on edge, jumping at shadows?"
Robert laughed softly. "You have a point."
"And you should try and get some sleep as w-" She let out a yelp, sucking in air through her teeth as she hobbled backwards.
"What? What is it?" Robert had rounded the counter in seconds.
Adele was hopping towards a chair, clutching her foot. "I don't think you got all the glass."
"Oh no, hold on…" He brought one of the candles from the counter, placing it on the floor as he crouched down and took hold of her heel. "Let me have a look. I can't see anyth… wait, there it is." Holding Adele's foot steady, Robert squeezed the area and drew out the splinter. "It needs washing, we don't want it to get infected."
Adele looked down at him. "You really are sweet you know, Hooded Man or not. I hope Mary knows how lucky she is."
Once Mary had begun to cry, she couldn't stop.
All the tension, the stress, the worry flooded out of her — not just from tonight's argument, but from the days preceding it. Waiting to see whether the man she loved more than life itself would come back to her.
And when he did, what had she done? She hadn't even given him a kiss, she was too busy firing off questions, checking for injuries (she hadn't seen the worst of them till he'd undressed, his back a mass of bruises), giving him a hard time about bringing the woman he'd saved back to their home. What was she, some kind of jealous teenager?
But then, she'd never done the whole teen in love thing. Hers had been a small locality and, apart from break times at school, she hadn't really mixed with boys. She certainly hadn't been able to go out in the evenings; her brother, who'd looked after her when their father had died of a stroke, would have gone mad.
Damn right I would, Moo-Moo, said the voice of that dead sibling in her head; the one she still heard occasionally, even though David had died from the virus long ago. And who still called her by that ridiculous childhood name, a contraction of Mary Louise. So would Dad if he'd still been alive.
In some ways it had been a drawback having two strong male role models, living all that way out on the farm. But it had made her the woman she was today; taught her to fight and stand up for herself.
But in fighting for Robert, maybe she was also pushing him away. If you love something so much, sometimes you have to let it go — isn't that what people always said? When you let them go, however, you run the risk of them never coming back.
To her mind, the jealousy was justified anyway. It hadn't been easy for her, competing initially with the ghost of Robert's late wife — the one he'd loved so much he cut himself off from civilisation and swore he'd never care about anyone again — and then with this character people thought he was; this symbol of hope. It was tough being in love with an icon.
Though probably not as tough as actually being one, Moo-Moo. You should cut him a little slack every now and again.
"What are you talking about?" Mary caught herself saying out loud.
Remember when I asked you if you were sure about him?
Mary nodded.
Well, you were right. He risked everything to save you when you pulled that stunt impersonating him.
"He'd have done the same for anyone. He just did for that woman he brought back."
It's not the same thing, and you know it. He came after you because of how he feels. Not out of any sense of duty. But you're in danger of losing him, unless you're careful.