WHO Marian & Alan WHEN Sunday morning WHERE The Sly Fox WHAT Breakfast and catching up WARNINGS mentions of kidnapping(s)
“Mornin’, darlin’,” Alan said, putting a pack of bagels down on the kitchen table.
Marian had been almost finished cleaning the kitchen when he arrived and she put the rag aside to turn and look at Alan, all dressed in his jeans and flannels, hair loose around his face. His slightly dishevelled look these days was a little different to his slightly dishevelled look of days past. She had, on more than one occasion, been present while Alan and Will Scarlet were getting ready to go somewhere, and Marian was always the first to be ready, having thrown on her clothes and made sure her hair looked fine, while those boys then proceeded to take at least an hour to get to whatever standard they were looking for. She had watched the both of them change outfits multiple times to end up in something that looked basically the same to Marian, and somehow deciding that was perfect.
Her boys, God bless ‘em.
She didn’t want to tell Alan that his carefully curated artist look was basically the same as his depressed-but-still-getting-out-of-the-house look, because that seemed very mean and liable to lead to further depression.
“Bagels,” Marian nodded, trying to focus on that instead of her stress cleaning. “There’s cottage cheese in the fridge, and avocado.”
“You alright today?” Alan asked, leaning against the side of the fridge, arms crossed as he watched her.
“Yeah?” Marian shrugged, looking at the bagel box with brow deeply furrowed. “No? I guess I can’t stop thinking about what might be happening to Clio.” She hadn’t ever met Clio and had always felt suspicious of her for some reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but things like ‘suspicion’ had been fully wiped away by Clio being kidnapped by someone she knew and trusted. Marian was incredibly aware of the fact that she kept picturing herself whenever she tried to imagine Clio’s plight: the muse kept taking on red hair, and freckles, and burn marks all over her stomach and back. The kidnapper kept looking like the Sheriff out of the corner of her eye. It was hard for Marian to separate herself from another woman being kept in captivity.
Marian didn’t know if that made her incredibly self-absorbed or just a very normal, damaged person.
She raised her eyes to Alan and he nodded. “Aye,” he said. “I think Stoots is losing his mind.”
Poor Will, Marian thought, her stomach tightening again. To know his girlfriend was trapped somewhere and he couldn’t help her.
Maybe it was a small comfort to Clio that she knew Will would be searching. Marian hadn’t ever known if Robin was looking for her at all, hadn’t known if he still cared enough. It had made it so much easier to sink into the Sheriff's plans, to give herself over and make something of it, knowing that Robin no longer wanted her. It seemed ludicrous now to remember that she had ever doubted him, because he had been nothing but adoring and supportive since she’d returned. Robin, sometimes, felt like the only thing keeping her steady.
Marian hoped that Will would be that for Clio when she came back from whatever hell she was experiencing. And maybe Marian should also step in and meet Clio too, try and help her through whatever this was. She was sure the muse had friends – she had a whole bunch of sisters, after all – but maybe none of them had been so recently kidnapped and tortured as Marian had been.
But then… did Marian want to talk about that? It was all very well and good to offer herself up as someone to talk to, but would Marian just have a complete breakdown listening to stories that so closely mirrored the things she couldn’t stop holding onto?
Maybe Marian was not the best support person around, not for this.
“I hope they find her soon,” Marian said, opening up the box of bagels so she had something to do with her hands.
Alan seemed to take the hint and opened the fridge to find the cottage cheese for them. “And how are you doing?” he asked, putting it down on the table along with half avocado.
“I suppose…” Marian thought about the best way to put it. “Better than I was, but not as good as I hope to be?”
“I reckon that’s understandable,” Alan nodded.
Marian went to the cutlery drawer and spoke as her back was to Alan. “He really messed with my head, Al. So much worse than any of the other times someone has taken me. It was always awful, they've always found ways to-" she picked out a butter knife. "It's just that he wormed his way inside this time and I can’t seem to get him out.”
When Alan moved to her side he let his footsteps be heavy, and Marian appreciated it. She appreciated so much that her Merry Men, so sneaky by nature, had learned not to sneak up on her right now. Had learned that maybe they needed to telegraph themselves a little more. She loved them endlessly for every single thing they did for her.
“But you’re here now,” Alan promised, lightly putting his hand on her shoulder. “He might have messed up your head, but I love you and you’re here now.”
Marian turned and wrapped her arms around him, sinking into the hug Alan was offering. “I know it’s paranoid, but every time I’m out there in the world I keep imagining that I’ll turn around and he’ll just be standing there. It’ll be a normal street on a normal day and he’ll just be staring at me, and there won’t be anything I can do to stop him again.”
Alan leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “Not gonna happen,” he said with firm certainty. “We’re prepared now, and he won’t take you again. Besides,” he added as though remembering it, “didn’t Artemis say she put the fear of god into him?”
Marian smiled a little at that and nodded. “Yeah. A fear of one god in particular.” Not God with a capital G, not Marian’s God, but still a god none the less. But she also remembered the boys talking on that post, Tuck’s comment about how it was all well and good that Marian might be safe, but that the Sheriff would just use it to torture the rest of them all the more. The words had made her feel sick with guilt, but there was nothing she could do about it.
Instead of thinking about that, about how maybe she’d failed her boys again, she just pressed herself closer into the hug with Alan and squeezed her eyes shut. For a long time she remained just like that, listening to his heart and feeling his breathing, and reminding herself that there were good things in this world.
When she pulled back to look up at him she frowned a little, trying to work something out. “Have I gotten taller?” she asked, stretching up onto her toes for a moment to compare herself to Alan.
“No,” Alan said with a sigh of his own. “But it appears that I’m getting shorter.”
“Yeah?”
He nodded. “I’ve lost almost two inches somewhere. Lord only knows when. That old adage of ‘you can’t tell how tall a man is in bed’ can be applied to moping as well as sex.”
Marian, with a sympathetic smile, reached up and lightly ruffled his hair. Slightly less far to reach now, though it didn’t make much of a difference. Alan pulled his head back away from her fingers. “Hey!” he exclaimed. “Don’t you unbeautify me!”
“Surely not possible,” Marian told him, all faux-serious. “You’ll always be a pretty princess.”
“All I need is the tiara,” Alan nodded.
“Then I’ll get you one,” Marian said as she drew herself out of his arms. “But first: breakfast.”