Broken Arrow

by Paul Kane

  Robert watched as a mini-movie played in his head, of them chasing a thief who'd just snatched a woman's purse in broad daylight before disappearing up a side street.

  "You go after him," Meadows had instructed. "I'll go this way, try and head him off." Holding onto his cap, Robert raced after the man.

  The felon, checking back over his shoulder, saw that there was only one young copper chasing him - and he'd slowed down, fancying his chances. Robert skidded to a stop only metres behind. "N-Now don't try anything funny," he said, with absolutely no confidence. "Come along quietly and it'll be better for everyone."

  "I'm not going back to jail," the scruffy-looking man had warned him, then approached, balling his hands into fists.

  Robert knew how he should tackle a situation like this, he'd been trained after all. But reality was completely different. Here was a real criminal, a desperate criminal, and only one thing stood between him and his freedom: Robert.

  The thief ran at him, readying to punch. But before that blow could land the man was falling over sideways. A puzzled Robert lowered his gaze and saw Meadows there, rugby tackling the fellow to the ground. His plan had worked, going round the houses to take the villain by surprise while Robert distracted him. It was a good strategy; one Robert would later use on a much larger scale.

  The thief tried to fight, knocking off Meadows' cap to reveal his salt and pepper hair. "Well, don't just stand there gaping," Meadows shouted, struggling to hold the scruffy man down. "Get your arse over here and help me cuff him!"

  Snapping awake, Robert had gone over and assisted, listening while the veteran officer read the thief his rights. Then they'd escorted him back to the station, putting him in a cell.

  "Nothing quite like it, is there?" Meadows said to Robert as they'd come away again, the job done.

  "What's that, sir?"

  "That adrenalin rush when it's you or them." Meadows' eyes were twinkling. "Facing your fear, lad. Did you feel it?"

  Robert nodded, but all he'd really felt was scared. He suspected he wouldn't actually know what Meadows was talking about until he arrested someone himself, until it was just him and the other guy... or guys. In the years since that day, he'd felt that rush many, many times.

  "Never let them put you behind one of those," Meadows told him, gesturing to the officer behind the duty desk. "You stay out there, young Stokes. Stay where you can make a difference and leave all that to the paper pushers."

  Sadly, they'd all become paper pushers by the time the virus struck, with more and more government bullshit tying them up. But in the period before that, Robert had learned a lot from his old mentor: not least of which was that guns were not the real answer to tackling gun crime. "It all escalates, you see," Meadows had warned him. "And then where's it all going to end?"

  Another memory crept in now; that of Meadows the last time he'd seen him, before Robert moved to the outskirts of Mansfield. A combination of injury - sustained on football match duty when one crazed supporter had broken Eric's leg - and old age meant that he'd found himself in the last place he wanted to be. Oh, there'd been a promotion that came with the office, to Sergeant no less, but the fact remained that Meadows was trapped, drowning in responsibilities. When Robert shook his hand and thanked him for everything, he could see the spark had almost completely gone from those eyes.

  "You're awake." The voice made him jump. Robert hadn't even noticed Mary had stirred; he'd been so wrapped up in his recollections. "What are you thinking about?"

  In the half-light, Robert stared down at her face and shrugged. "Nothing."

  "Liar." It wasn't said in a nasty way, but it stung nonetheless.

  "Am I not allowed to just sit here peacefully now?"

  "That's not what I said. I asked you what you were thinking about?"

  "The past."

  Mary sat up, resting against the headboard beside him. "You were thinking about Joanne and Stevie again, then."

  Robert sighed. "No... why does it always have to come back to that? Why can't you let it go?"

  "Why can't you?"

  "This isn't even about... If you must know I was remembering an old friend of mine from the force. And before you ask, no, he wasn't a woman." Mary's turn to be stung. "I've been thinking about what's been happening, what I'm doing here."

  "With me?"

  Robert sighed again. "No, you're twisting it all... What I'm doing here at the castle, Mary. How I've become rooted to this place, been hiding behind its walls for too long. It's not where I belong."

  "And where should you be? Sherwood? Alone?"

  "No..." Robert shook his head, but there was no conviction in it, only confusion. "I don't know... Anywhere but stuck here organising the men, sending them out on missions."

  "I help you as much as I can, you don't have to shoulder it all on your own."

  "No, that's not what I'm talking about. I'm not the man you met anymore, Mary. Staying here's done that. I'm... rusty."

  "So this is about what happened in York? I said it was a bad idea to -"

  "Mary, you're not listening. That's not the issue. The men we saw out there, the cult. They're dangerous."

  "More dangerous than the Frenchman?"

  "They have the capacity to be. And they're not interested in wealth or power like he was. They'll fight until every last one of them is dead."

  Mary was silent for a few moments. "We have men, loyal men," she said eventually.

  "And what if they fall? What if the fight is brought here again? How am I supposed to defend the people I care about, how am I supposed to lead men into battle, when I've lost my edge? When I've become..."

  "What? A family man? A leader?"

  "You just don't see it, do you? I'm no better than De Falaise."

  Mary pulled a face. "How can you say that?"

  "Because it's true. He stayed here in his ivory tower with Gwen while he sent his men off to their deaths, to do his dirty work for him."

  "To do his killing. And he wasn't exactly the dutiful partner when it came to Gwen, was he? She was his plaything, Robert. His toy. You care about your men. You care about me... don't you?"

  "You really need to ask that?"

  Mary gave a little shrug which he could barely see in the dark. "When girls like Adele -"

  "Adele again?" Robert snorted. "What the bloody hell's she got to do with this?"

  "It's another consequence of going out there. You're a living legend, Robert; women fall at your feet."

  "That's your paranoia again."

  "Is it? I saw the way she looked at you. You can't have missed it; and you invited her back here of all the things to -"

  He pulled the covers aside, climbing out of bed.

  "Where are you going?"

  "For a drink of water." Robert pulled on his robe, making for the door.

  "Robert, I -"

  "They don't mean anything to me, Mary. None of them. You'd know that if you really knew me." He took one last look at her, then he opened the door and slid out, whispering under his breath, "I love you." Robert wasn't sure whether she'd heard him or not, but he'd said it and as far as he was concerned that was enough. As he shut the door he thought he heard a faint sob, and almost went back in. But he was in no mood to keep talking that particular subject to death.

  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 café. 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 gl
ass, 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.

  "I don't need relationship advice from someone who never had a date in his life."

  Suit yourself, Moo-Moo. Just trying to help.

  She knew he was right, of course. Robert had come after her that day because he loved her. She'd seen the way he fought when De Falaise took her captive.

  And even though the months after that had been hard, Robert moving from Sherwood to the castle, them trying to build something up out of the aftermath of the Sheriff's rule - both in terms of the Rangers, and with regards to their personal feelings - there had still been moments to cherish.

  Like the first night they spent together, after last year's Summer fête. Jack had the notion that it would be good to give the men and their new family a party, and though Robert had been resistant at first he'd finally been persuaded by Mary.

  "We could all use a bit of... what was it Jack said? 'Down Time'," she'd told him.

  The grounds of the castle had been open to all that day, with food and drink and music; some of which had been provided by a battery-powered stereo, some by Dale and his guitar. People from New Hope and other villages under Robert's protection had visited Nottingham, and said afterwards it had been well worth the trip. It reminded them that not everything in this post-virus world had gone sour. They were still alive after all, and s
till human. Even Robert, who'd been on tenterhooks waiting for some emergency or other to happen had loosened up after a couple of drinks.

  "Come on," Mary had said, after some Dutch courage herself. "Dance with me."

  Robert shook his head, so she'd leaned in then, whispering in his ear. "Please."

  He'd allowed himself to be pulled up, and when he held her she could tell he was relaxing. Several dances, and several beers later, they'd found themselves walking through the grounds of the castle, alone in the moonlight. She'd pointed up at the stars and when he looked down again she'd kissed him. Not the kisses they'd shared since first meeting, the awkward, tentative brushing of lips they were used to - but a long, lingering kiss. Mary had felt her body turn to jelly as Robert responded: his hands on her back just as hers were clutching his shoulder-blades.

  When both their hands started to explore further, they'd pulled apart - and it had been Robert, surprisingly, who'd suggested they find somewhere a little more private. "Maybe there's a room where people have left their coats," he suggested, and she'd laughed, feeling truly happy for the first time in a long while. Though she should have been scared because this was her first time, Mary was far from it. Even if things had felt uncomfortable before, nothing on that special night did. It felt right, so right.

  Sure, she could put it down to the alcohol, the atmosphere of the party. But to her it just felt like they were finally on the same page. That now he wanted her as much as she'd always wanted him. And it had been amazing, truly amazing. She'd placed herself in Robert's hands and he hadn't failed to live up to her imagination.

  Then, waking up that morning with Robert lying next to her, she'd experienced a horrible sinking feeling. What if he regrets what we did? What if he rejects me? She'd kept quiet, frozen, just watching - waiting for him to rouse, but at the same time hoping he'd sleep forever so she wouldn't have to face the disappointment.

  What a relief, then, when he'd woken up and smiled.