Paul Kane: Broken Arrow

He'd dismissed Jack's words, but the man had been right. If he hadn't been there, Robert wouldn't be alive right now. Out of the game. Too much time stuck behind a desk. Now where had he heard that before?

Sitting in the dark, a face from the past floated into his mind. Now he flashed back to his very first days as a rookie, to his old station house in Nottingham, just south of this very castle in fact — before Joanne had made him move away from the city. To seasoned Constable Eric Meadows, who'd 'puppy walked' him through his first weeks, pounding the beat alongside him.

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.