Author's Note: In 2006, the BBC started running an updated version of Robin Hood, which I didn't watch until 2008. Despite being a classic story with a fairly basic (and awesome!) premise, somehow this new Robin Hood was all convoluted and... well, weird. Between the start and end of season one, Robin transformed into an emo!teen, and I began to suspect that the Sheriff was afflicted by some sort of neurological disorder (or possibly fighting an evil alien entity for possession of his body). Guy really worked the slouchy goth look, but was understandably frustrated by the fact that he was surrounded by crazy people who were all lying to him.

Story Background: (Because I apparently can't be bothered to make this story *actually* make sense; I'll cheat and use authorial exposition to do the work for me!) Starts before the beginning of the series. Assumes that Guy's improbable journey to the Holy Land and back in six weeks (canon! not kidding!) did occur, but was actually to *save* the king from someone *else's* assassination plot. While there, he met Robin, who was wounded in the fight, and ultimately sent back to England.

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************************

Guy felt steel at his neck and froze, then relaxed. Finally. He'd been in three churches that night, and it looked like he'd finally hit the right one. Unless it wasn't who he thought it was, and he was about to be killed by an interrupted thief.

"Locksley?" he asked cautiously.

"Gisborne?" The blade disappeared.

He turned around slowly, trying to appear non-threatening. It wasn't a look he was used to striving for. Still, it would be worth it if it kept Locksley from gutting him. He'd heard the stories.

They stared at each other. "I remember you being shorter," Locksley said finally, breaking the standoff.

"I was sitting down last time you saw me." He paused, but added, "You look better." Truthfully, he couldn't see much except shadows, but Locksley had been on what many thought would be his deathbed the last time they'd met. Anything would be an improvement.

Locksley gave a small laugh. "Not dead, anyway. Shall we sit?"

A sliver of moonlight lit the church pews, and they moved carefully, still wary. Again, Locksley spoke first. "Gisborne, I'm not sure exactly what I'm doing here." His tone was hesitant. "I've spoken to King Richard -- he doesn't believe he faces any serious opposition here at home. England stands behind her King."

Guy prayed the King wasn't truly that naive. "England's King isn't here," he said. "You've seen the countryside -- do people look happy to be supporting a distant army, fighting a war they don't understand? Taxes have driven good men to cheat and steal; most families are one poor harvest away from servitude. People are living in fear, and still the King does not return."

He could practically feel Locksley bristling in the dark. "He is the only one who stands a chance of ending this war!"

"A war with what purpose? Conquering far-off enemies is useless if England herself falls to treachery!"

Now he had the other man's attention, but it was impossible to read his expression in the darkness. "You suspect Prince John?"

"Suspect? Yes. But without proof... Did you know Nottingham has a new Sheriff?"

Locksley didn't seem fazed by the apparent change in subject. "What about Edward?"

"He proved too lenient for the Prince's taste. The new man is --" completely insane "-- more power-hungry. More politically motivated. I believe he wants England for himself, but is willing to play along with the Prince while he waits." Which was why Gisborne was in Nottingham in the first place -- to see if one traitor could lead him to more.

"And you're what... his chief bully?"

He hoped the darkness hid his eyeroll. "The Sheriff has no friends in Nottingham, or the surrounding villages, and he doesn't like to get his hands dirty. It was a perfect opportunity."

"Does he trust you?"

"No. But he hasn't tried to kill me yet -- I'm still useful to him, and I've made it clear that my own ambitions are small."

"I did consider just killing him," Guy continued, trying to gauge Locksley's reaction. "But it would cause more problems than it would solve." Unfortunately. He was a soldier, not a spy, despite the position this war had placed him in.

No answer. And then the moonlight dimmed -- a cloud, perhaps -- and there was a blade at his throat again before he could blink.

"If you are lying..."

The threat hung between them, and he was suddenly furious. "I risk everything by telling you this!" he spat. "My life, your life -- the lives of everyone in Locksley would be forfeit if the Sheriff uncovered my true loyalties. You think that just because I didn't spend years fighting at the King's side, I don't know what it means to sacrifice? You know nothing about my life!"

There was more silence following his outburst, and he realized it might have been exactly the wrong thing to say. They'd met each other only briefly in the Holy Land; Locksley had been incoherent most of the time. They really did know next to nothing about each other. What reason did the other man have to trust him?

And then Locksley said, "All right. What's your plan?"

************************

"You were right."

It shouldn't have been a surprise, that Locksley would show up so quickly -- mere hours after he'd denounced the Sheriff in the most public of forums and rescued four men from the gallows. And yet, he was still startled when the man slipped through a balcony window and landed lightly in the hallway in front of him.

"Shouldn't you be out bonding with your new gang?" Guy asked.

Locksley waved a hand. "They're fine," he said. "John has the bonding covered. We're sending most of them off again anyway, to set up a safe passage route out of Nottingham. Somehow I don't think this is the last time we'll end up interrupting a hanging."

He grimaced. Things hadn't gone exactly according to plan. "Who will stay?" It would be useful knowledge to have, but it was also a test of sorts -- did Locksley really trust him enough to share the information?

His suspicions eased slightly as the names came without hesitation. "Much, of course," Locksley said, "and John." He ticked them off one by one on his fingers. "Roy, I think -- he's one of John's. Will Scarlett won't leave, and I've asked Allan to stay on as well."

"The liar? He's a mercenary; for sale to the highest bidder."

"He's just a kid. Besides, I think he'll balance out Will's righteousness."

"That's a dangerous line to walk, Locksley."

The hallway ended in a room he'd always found somewhat awkward and uncomfortable. Locksley, however, threw himself into one of the chairs like he'd been living there his whole life. Which, Guy supposed, he had. "Just Robin, now." The words and body language were almost aggressively casual, but he thought the question was probably more important than Robin was willing to admit. "Will you take the name?"

If he'd ever considered it, he would have changed his mind in the face of the image before him. "Locksley is yours." He settled into a chair and took a deep breath. He wasn't sure he should say it, but... "I didn't know if you'd really be able to do it."

There was another long pause, before Robin said, "Me neither." He held up a hand and they watched it start to shake. "Much has it worse," he said. "We are both of us battle-weary. I had hoped --" The hand clenched into a fist, and dropped into his lap. Guy watched as Robin's eyes went somewhere far away, then slowly refocused. When they met his, they were filled with hard determination. "But no," he said. "We will do this, for England. You were right. The Sheriff is -- he cannot be reasoned with."

"You see, though, why he can't simply be removed?"

Robin gave a reluctant nod. "Right now there is only him. He is so universally disliked that most are willing to look the other way for outlaws, which makes our job easier. Bring in a new face and the power shifts would be enormous. Better to isolate him as much as possible and work around him."

It was Guy's turn to nod. "He won't let this go," he warned. "He'll retaliate somehow; try and make you an example." It was the most tenuous part of their patched-together plan -- counting on the Sheriff to behave predictably wasn't something Guy wanted to bet his life on.

"I know." Robin grimaced. "Suggestions?"

"He is a coward at heart. He will value his own life over your death." Guy hesitated, then added, "He will likely also value your defeat over your death. He is no warrior -- he prefers winning over expediency."

"Right." Robin stared broodingly at the wall.

"Where do the others think you are?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"Hunting."

He raised his eyebrows. "You'd best take something back with you, then."

"From your stores?" The spark of humor was back in Robin's eyes -- how did he do that, switch it on and off like that? "How positively charitable of you."

"Locksley is yours," he reminded. He'd taken away the man's dream of peace, the least he could do was make sure he still had a home.

************************

"We have a problem."

Guy groaned. They had many problems, not the least of which was that Robin had decided to stop by during his bath. He dropped his head back and stared at the ceiling. "A problem," he repeated. "Such as all your villagers despising me more than ever, Marian blatantly speaking out in your defense, and you interrupting my bath?"

When he looked back down, Robin had already taken over a chair, as well as Guy's dinner. "Not exactly," he said, picking through the plate. His hand stopped halfway to his mouth. "Marian spoke up for me?"

He couldn't stop the eyeroll. "Yes. Foolishly drawing the Sheriff's attention back to her and her father. He's heard you were once betrothed."

"That was a long time ago," Robin said, not quite meeting his eyes. "Do you think she's in danger?"

"Don't you?"

Robin shrugged, but he was still looking at the wall. "Marian's a big girl; she can take care of herself. She's made it clear that my assistance is neither wanted nor appreciated. Unless you think she is blind to the dangers presented by the Sheriff, I say let her distract him all she wants. I don't believe even he would kill a woman as highly placed as Marian with impunity."

It was probably true. Marian used the Sheriff's well-known dislike of women against him. He would never stoop to dealing with her himself, and Marian was well-liked among the people -- her death would bring the kind of attention the Sheriff would prefer to avoid. Guy returned his gaze to the ceiling, trying to work through the possibilities.

"You may be right," he said finally. Then he frowned. "What problem were you thinking of?"

"Oh, nothing too large. I need you to fire someone at the castle," Robin said.

"What?"

"I know; he should have told us right off. Roy's mother works at the castle." Guy wasn't sure how Robin pulled off that particular expression of worry combined with indignation -- around a mouthful of chicken, no less. "We have to get her away before the Sheriff finds out."

"And you want me to fire her?"

Robin just looked at him. "You can do that, right?"

He sighed. "I suppose you'll be wanting to rescue the rest of their families next," he said resignedly.

"Only if they need it. If you can get her out of the castle, we'll get her out of Nottingham; it will be a good test of the system." Robin picked at the food left on the plate. "Do the villagers really hate you?"

"Yes." They were supposed to hate him; it made his role more convincing, but it still rankled. Of course, they loved Robin -- he wouldn't be surprised if they were seeking him out in the forest just to ask his opinion on their crops.

"Hmm." He'd expected Robin to make light of it, or become morose at the thought of his beloved villagers unhappy with him in exile. But apparently something about the life of an outlaw agreed with him, because he just looked thoughtful. "I'll think of something," he said.

************************

After it was over, Guy found himself pacing the upper hall of Locksley Manor, waiting for Robin to appear. Hours after sunset, he did, looking exhausted and with nowhere near his usual grace. They stared at each other for a long moment.

"I don't want to talk about it," Robin said.

"There's food, if you'd like," he answered, feeling uncomfortably awkward. It was small compensation for being branded a murderer, however temporarily, but it was all he had at the moment.

"I -- yes. Thank you." They ate in silence, until the shadows had faded slightly, from both their eyes. Guy wondered if the lives lost while they carried out this deception weighed more heavily than deaths that came in the heat of battle.

Just as he was debating bringing up the topic of the "Night Watchman" -- he had his suspicions, but was curious to hear another's thoughts -- Robin dozed off over the pudding. It was startlingly easy to sling an arm around his shoulders and shuffle him towards the bed. Was he sleeping at all out in the forest?

"I'll wake you in a few hours," he told the other man. Robin would get a chance to rest, and Guy could go over the latest petitions from the Locksley villagers. And finish the pudding.

It was much less than that, though, when a noise from the hall made him look up. Someone was out there. He drew a knife and moved silently to stand by the door. As soon as it opened, he reached out and grabbed the assailant, dragging him inside and setting the knife blade to his throat. "Don't move," he growled.

"You've killed him!"

Recognition dawned, and he sighed. "I haven't," he said, releasing the smaller man. He was one of Robin's -- must have followed him and gotten worried when he didn't come back out.

On the bed, Robin sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Much?" he said sleepily.

"Master! Robin!" Much hurried forward. "Are you all right? I thought you were dead!"

Robin swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up quickly. He sounded wide awake again, although he looked even scruffier than usual. "Much, where are the others? Are they here?" he demanded.

"Of course not!" Much looked indignant, then concerned. "Although now I wish I had brought them, because you're clearly addled, and we're probably both going to be killed."

Robin shot him an indecipherable glance. "Guy's not going to kill us," he said. He held up a hand, cutting off any reply. "Much," he said firmly. "You're just going to have to trust me."

Much narrowed his eyes, but relented. "Fine," he said. "But I don't like it."

"Fine," Robin said. "Your liking it is not required. Your not telling the others is. They would not understand."

"I don't understand!" Much exclaimed. "He's -- You're -- Robin Hood, spending time with Guy of Gisborne in Locksley Manor? Taking a nap? No one would believe me, anyway."

Robin was already ignoring him, so apparently any danger there might have been was past. Guy put his knife away.

"Wait," Much said suddenly. "I want a bath."

"What, now?" Robin sounded exasperated.

"No." Much shook his head. "I mean, yes, but no. You got to eat real food and sleep in an actual bed -- if I'm keeping your secret, I want baths."

"You've been spending too much time with Allan," Robin said, sounding amused. "You never used to be such a negotiator."

Guy wondered what Much thought he and Robin were actually doing. Robin looked at him, as if to say, "Well?" He shrugged and slouched against the wall, crossing his arms. "Fine," he said.

"There you go," Robin told Much. Then, as Much stared, he crossed to the table and pointed to a spot on the map Guy had been studying. "Tell them to put the well here. It's not where they want it, but it's actually a better position for long-term supply. Also, if you could be more demanding, it would give the servants a reason to have more food and supplies on hand."

"Which could then be distributed to the villagers behind my back whenever I was called back to Nottingham." He nodded his understanding.

Much gaped. "But he's -- And you're --"

"Let's go, Much."

He still got a wink and a wave as they headed out the window into the darkness.

************************

Much showed up for a bath once a week, along with Robin -- who did, in fact, usually spend the time napping. Apparently being an outlaw didn't leave a lot of time for catching up on one's sleep.

Robin came by himself much more often, to talk strategy, council him on how to handle the villagers, or -- increasingly frequently -- just to gossip. And eat. Although sometimes it was hard to draw a strict line between "gossip" and "sharing information."

"Roy's leaving," Robin said one day. "His mother worries, apparently."

"Will you recruit someone new?"

"How? I think we'll just wait, and see what happens. With the warmer weather, things have been more flexible lately anyway."

It was true. As the season shifted towards summer, the knife edge of fear and danger they'd all been living on seemed just a little wider, a little softer. The crops were strong, the weather was mild -- relatively speaking, it was a time of plenty. "I've been thinking about Bonchurch Lodge," he said.

"The Sheriff watches it carefully."

"The Sheriff is busy with his precious mines. He is stretched thin, and the kind of 'loyalty' he inspires is easily shifted." They'd discussed the property before. Associated with Locksley but somewhat remote, it clearly had potential. For what, was the question -- it was too closely monitored to be an effective bolt hole, and they'd always tabled the issue for later.

"I have a sister, Isabella. With my new station, it would be appropriate for her to advance as well." "Appropriate" wasn't exactly true, but it would be acceptable. "She could take over the house, and staff it as she pleased."

"You have a sister." Robin had stopped eating. "Is she like you?"

How was he supposed to answer that? "She has a strong personality." Frowning, he added, "And a strong enough sense of preservation to know when to keep her mouth shut. Unlike some."

Robin grinned. "Is Marian giving you trouble again?"

The frown turned into a scowl. He had been debating whether to share his suspicions with Robin for some time. "I believe Marian is the Night Watchman."

"What?"

He had a list of evidence, but Robin waved off his explanation. "No, it makes sense. I just cannot believe she gave me a lecture about working within the system!"

"You realize this puts her in more danger? 'Lady Marion of Knighton Hall' has her position to keep her relatively safe; the Night Watchman has no such protection."

Robin looked unusually serious. "She'll be killed."

"If the Sheriff catches her; yes."

"And you think having your sister at Bonchurch will... distract Marian?"

He hesitated. Everything he saw told him he could trust Robin with this information, but he found it was still hard to speak the words. "Isabella knows the truth. About me. I've never hidden anything from her. Best informed is best protected, and she is all I have left of my family."

"If she is able to instill even the most basic sense of caution into Marian, she has my blessing," Robin said. "I assume, other than helping with Marian, you'd prefer she stays out of this?"

"I've learned it's best to simply ask her," Guy told him. "If I'm discovered, it will fall on her as well. I'm sure she will argue that it's only fair she be allowed to decide for herself her involvement beyond that." Robin was looking doubtful, so he added, "Isabella understands discretion." Unlike Marian, he left unspoken. No matter how exasperated Robin acted about Marian, it was still bad taste to insult someone's former betrothed. "I trust her with my life."

"Do you trust her with mine?"

Guy was really more worried about whether or not he trusted Robin that much. "Yes," he said, to see what the reaction would be.

As usual, Robin surprised him. He shrugged. "Very well; let's open up Bonchurch. I'm looking forward to meeting this sister of yours. But -- let me break it to Much first, before she arrives."

************************

It was night. The argument had been going on since before sunset, and showed no signs of letting up. Guy wasn't completely sure why Robin and Much felt the need to hold this argument at Locksley Manor, except for not wanting to fight in front of the rest of the gang. He had a sudden image of parents trying not to fight in front of their children, and stifled a smirk.

"He is using Saracen slaves in those mines! It's wrong, Much, and you know it!"

"You cannot save everyone! The more you free, the more he will purchase!"

"Not if there are no mines to work!"

Much threw his hands in the air. "That is a completely ridiculous solution! Gisborne, tell him!"

He blinked. Had Much just solicited his help in convincing Robin? Guy marshaled his thoughts. "The towns with mines would not thank you for closing them," he said carefully. "They bring prosperity along with their dangers."

"Thank you!" Much exclaimed. Robin glared at him.

"But," Guy added, regaining their attention. "The villagers would work the mines themselves, if they were safer, and there would be no need for slaves."

"So all we need to do is make the mines safer!" Much frowned. "How do we do that?"

Robin said nothing, and Guy rolled his eyes at Robin's obvious lack of ideas. Sometimes he could almost see the clash of roles in the man, between the lord of the manor and the fearsome warrior. He did truly care about the people, but his first instinct continued to be conflict resolution through simple application of swords. "You might ask your friend Scarlett," he said. "I believe he's a carpenter?"

Much looked exceedingly satisfied with this answer. Robin just looked stubborn. "Mines will always be dangerous," he said.

"I'm sure there is much that could be done to make them safer!"

"But no money to pay for improvements!" And now they were back to arguing again. Really, he thought they must enjoy it. How had he become the voice of reason?

"Robin," he said, which was unusual enough to halt the conversation. Good. If Much could keep his mouth shut, they'd all have a chance of actually sleeping at some point. And maybe the servants would bring breakfast late. With all the shouting, he didn't know how he'd ever thought they might not find out about his "visitors." "Much is right." He gave the man his fiercest glare to forestall the "hah!" he knew was coming. Much snapped his jaw shut and looked away.

"You can't save everyone. Trying to just makes things worse. People have to live their own lives, make their own mistakes, triumph in their own victories. Teach them how to make the mines safer themselves, and let them do it. They will or they won't, but it will be their choice, not yours."

Robin's expression was stricken. He sat down heavily in the nearest chair and dropped his head into his hands. "I know," he said finally, voice muffled by his hands. "I just -- it wasn't supposed to be like this."

It was the lament of every soldier who'd ever gone away to war, and come home to find the world had changed. There was nothing to say, really. He'd either find a way to get through it, or he wouldn't. Still. He moved closer to the chair and awkwardly patted Robin's shoulder. "Although," he offered. "If there will be no need for more slaves, I'm sure the ones here now would appreciate being... liberated."

It wasn't a lot, but Robin looked up. And, after a moment, grinned. "Liberated," he repeated. "I think I know some people who could help with that."

"First the carpenter," Guy warned.

"Of course," Robin said. "Trust me."

The scary thing was, he thought he might be starting to.

************************

He was furious. First one of the Locksley villagers had asked him for his blessing -- his blessing! -- for her marriage, on the very steps of Nottingham castle. With the possibility that the Sheriff was watching, he'd had to demand payment. And of course, the only thing of value the girl owned was her necklace, which -- judging by the look in her eyes -- had at least returned him to bullying thug status. Then he'd had to give the damned thing to Marian, and convince her to accept it, and hope she was clever enough to be "robbed" instead of just handing it back to Robin to return to its rightful owner.

And then, after enduring the Sheriff's ridiculous taunts, he'd returned to Locksley only to find Will Scarlett chatting up the village baker. It wasn't like he could simply pretend not to recognize him; not with the green scarf and blindingly obvious tags they all insisted on wearing. All he could do was sigh. There was really no excuse for this.

"Seize him," he said to the closest guards. Who he then had to intimidate into staying behind while he "took the prisoner to the Sheriff." Through the forest, of course, since it was the quickest way back to the castle. Scarlett, at least, said nothing. Thank God for small blessings.

Once he'd reached a likely clearing, he simply stopped, and dismounted. "Locksley!" he shouted. Not that he thought the man actually knew everything that happened in the forest, but...

"You called?" Robin stepped out from behind a tree, and the rest of the gang closed in around him. There was a new one, he noticed. Short. Almost -- he shook his head, resolving to ask later.

It only took a second to refocus. "What is this?" he said angrily, gesturing towards Will. "A mid-afternoon baking emergency? This is not subtle, Locksley!"

It wasn't Robin, but the tall one -- John, he thought -- who spoke. "Will," he said reproachfully.

"It's my dad," the boy protested. "I heard he was sick, and the baker offered to get a message to him for me. That's all. Besides... it's Gisborne."

He scowled. What was that supposed to mean?

"What's that supposed to mean?" Robin said.

Everyone in the clearing looked at each other. Nobody said anything for a long minute.

"Locksley..." he said warningly.

But Allan shook his head. "Not to be funny, mate, but it's not Robin that gave you away."

"You do tend to roll your eyes a lot when the Sheriff is talking," Will added. "It's hard not to notice."

Before he could reply, Marian burst into the clearing -- on foot, despite being dressed for riding. "Marian!" Robin said, startled. "What are you doing here?"

"I've been robbed!" she exclaimed.

"Imagine that," Guy muttered. "Outlaws. In Sherwood Forest."

Allan, the only one close enough to hear him, snickered.

"He claimed to be one of Robin Hood's men," Marian said. Her eyes swept around the circle and stopped abruptly at him. "Wait, what's he doing here?"

Another long minute went by. More speaking looks were exchanged. Finally, Robin said, "He arrested Will. We've... ambushed him."

Marian didn't look nearly startled enough. "Right," she said, and stopped. Was it possible she was finally learning discretion? If so, he was sending his sister a thank-you gift.

"Thieves, you say?" Robin asked. Marian nodded.

"It wasn't us," Robin said. He scratched his head, a move Guy was sure he calculated to give him the most innocent look possible. "I mean, I suppose it's possible it was someone loosely associated with us. The idea is to rob from the rich and give to the poor, after all. And -- it's not like you don't have other horses. It would look awfully suspicious if you were the only noble in the area who was never accosted in the forest."

"Robin!" Marian put her hands on her hips.

Robin abandoned the innocent act and smirked. "We'll get your bangles back for you, Marian. I've no idea who it could be."

It was Allan who brought the conversation back to its original topic. "What about Will?" he asked.

Guy folded his arms. "It's perfectly clear what happened," he said, exerting a conscious effort not to roll his eyes. "I arrested one of Robin Hood's men, then came upon you robbing the Lady Marian. We performed a trade. I decided to escort Marian back to Knighton Hall to recover herself."

"How come we didn't take your horse too, then?" Much reached a hand out and quickly snatched it back as Guy's mount snapped at him. "Right, I see. Because he's a hell beast who won't let anyone touch him. Of course."

John seemed to speak for everybody when he said, "You'd best be on your way. Go on, then, and we'll find these thieves."

************************

He was expecting Robin. He wasn't expecting the fist to his face that accompanied him. "How could you, Gisborne?" Robin snarled. "Those men died today for no reason!"

He could have pointed out that the men in question were lying thieves who had been cheating the populace with their scams. He could have protested that he'd had no idea the Sheriff was planning to hang them early, for the express purpose of foiling any potential rescue plans. He could even have reminded Robin that if he'd done a better job running them off in the first place, they would never have been caught. But Robin wasn't looking for anything but a fight, and Guy was in no mood to talk him down. So he said nothing -- just stood up, and hit back.

It was a good thing they were inside, or he was sure they would have drawn a crowd. As it was, he had to wave the servants off twice, when they came in to investigate the noise. He wasn't sure who they would have leaped in to help, and thought it was best for everyone if they didn't have to find out. Robin was a brutal fighter, but Guy was fairly confident he wasn't actually trying to kill him. Still, he wasn't pulling any punches.

They fought each other to a standstill, until they were both flat on the floor and exhausted. He tried to catch his breath and ignore the shooting pain in his shoulder, wondering if Robin would say something, or just drag him to his feet and start all over again.

"Sometimes I almost miss it." The words came from Robin, which he guessed was his answer.

"What?" Guy asked warily, working his jaw from side to side. Not broken, then.

The response was a long time in coming. Finally, Robin said, "The war. The Holy Land. Fighting for my life."

"It's more complicated, here."

"Yes."

And that was when the door burst open, and Much rushed in, followed by the short one whose name he didn't know. "Robin! Gisborne! What happened to you?" Much sounded horrified, and he looked around the room as if he might spot an unknown assailant lurking in the shadows, waiting to attack. Robin groaned, but didn't get up.

It was startlingly easy to see when you were looking for it. "You have a woman in your gang," Guy said.

"Djaq," the woman said.

Really? "That's your name?" he asked.

"It was my brother's name," she said. "I use it in his honor."

He thought about shrugging, but decided it would hurt too much. Instead, he put his (uninjured) arm over his eyes and contemplated the best way to stand up. Let Robin deal with his people.

"What are you doing here, Much?" Robin asked.

Much finally put it together. "My God -- did you two do this to each other?"

"Yes," Robin said.

"Why?" Much apparently wasn't one of those people who appreciated the stress-reducing properties of a good fight.

"Much..."

"Right; none of my business. Except that everything to do with you is my business!"

"Because he cannot fight with you." Guy interrupted whatever Robin might have been planning to say. "And it would do no good to brawl with the Sheriff."

It was enough. Much dropped the conversation. "I was looking for Robin," he said. "Djaq followed me."

Djaq nodded, and said, "There is a Saracen on his way to Nottingham; John has had word from some of the others. He is travelling in disguise, and says he wants to speak with Prince John. The Sheriff has promised to get him an audience."

It sounded like a development he should meet standing up, so he worked his way upright. Robin took the offered hand and did the same. "I told you the Sheriff had larger ambitions," Guy said.

Robin squinted like his head hurt, or possibly like he was seeing double. "Do you think there's any chance we can use this to get him out of Nottingham?"

"And foist him onto someone else?"

"Yes!" Much said excitedly. Then he sighed. "No. Robin will never go for it."

"No. I won't." They all turned to Robin when he spoke, but he stopped and stared off into space, frowning.

Personally, Guy was worried. They'd overestimated the Sheriff's rational side (and possibly his sanity), and people had died. Worse, he thought they had overestimated Robin's ability to get through this and deal with losses. He had clearly brought more than scars and shaky hands back from his time in the Holy Land.

"We will deal with this," he said, not even sure who he was trying to reassure.

Robin snapped back from wherever he'd gone in his head. "Right," he said. "Do we know where he is now?"

Djaq nodded, seemingly unperturbed by anything she observed. "Yes," she told them. "Less than a day's ride from here."

"We'll go meet this man and find out what he wants. Maybe we'll be able to warn him away from Nottingham altogether; convince him to take his business elsewhere."

Even Much looked skeptical. Robin started talking about horses, and whether or not John would have a problem with not attacking the visitor, and it was one of those things where it all sounded like a perfectly workable plan. And yet somehow, Guy had the feeling that the whole thing was going to blow up in their faces, and they'd wind up fighting their way out of the castle amidst arrows and curses. It seemed to be the way most of their plans were going, lately.

************************

"We need help."

It was obvious, and true, and yet apparently still needed to be said aloud. Guy hadn't particularly wanted to be the one to voice the thought, but he was willing to do it if it brought results. He was practicing on his sister, before he tried it on Robin, who never thought they needed help, and tended to react to the suggestion by making his plans even more risky and dangerous than before.

Isabella was currently visiting from Bonchurch Lodge. She'd settled into the area with a minimum of fuss and quickly made friends of the local farmers. Unfortunately, she'd bonded with them over the wickedness and mean-spiritedness of her brother, which made his own visits to her uncomfortable, to say the least. It was much better for her to visit him -- the Locksley servants had long ago decided that feigning ignorance of all happenings in the manor would be their best defense. It also made him appear even more demanding and unreasonable, which only cemented his image in the minds of Isabella's farmers.

"Well, of course you do," she said sharply. "You should have asked me in the beginning." Her hands were on her hips, but she looked more worried than angry.

Of course, it was at that moment that Robin appeared in the window. It was just barely twilight, and Guy hadn't been expecting him for another few days. "Guy!" he called loudly, swinging inside. If he ever made it back into polite society, Guy wondered if he'd have a hard time breaking the habit of entering everywhere through the windows. "I -- Oh. Hello there."

His voice instantly switched from curt to charming, and Guy rolled his eyes. The infamous Robin Hood wiles in action.

Isabella, at least, seemed immune. Perhaps she'd been talking with Marian about more than simply how to employ subtlety. "You must be Robin Hood," she said. "That was quite an entrance."

"And you must be Isabella," Robin said, giving her an elaborate bow. "I've heard many tales of your virtues, my lady, but none that did justice to your beauty."

Guy thought about punching him in the face. Isabella just laughed. "I've heard many tales about you as well, but none mentioned virtue," she replied. "I assume you were looking for my brother?"

He could almost see Robin refocusing. "Yes. Actually, I'm looking for Djaq. She's gone missing, maybe."

"Maybe?"

"No one's seen her all day, and the Sheriff's men have been patrolling the forest more than usual lately."

Guy hadn't realized Robin actually kept that close track of where everyone was; the whole group had seemed very freeform last time he'd been around them. He said as much to Robin, who just shrugged. "It's Djaq."

"I haven't heard anything," Guy told him. "But I've been in Locksley all week, working on the preparations for the Harvest Festival."

There was the sound of a commotion from below them. A moment later there was a knock on the door. "Master?" the Steward called out. "There are soldiers here who request an audience."

Which was probably a nice way of saying they were demanding to talk with him. The three of them exchanged looks. It was possible they had discovered Robin's presence, or the Sheriff had simply decided to get rid of him. Or the soldiers might be planning blackmail, or they'd arrested someone they wanted to have hanged for some trifle. Whatever it was, he'd have to find out -- they couldn't all live in the forest.

"I'll be there shortly," Guy called back.

As he descended the stairs, he could see three soldiers struggling to restrain someone. And what a coincidence; it was Djaq. His eyes narrowed. "What is the meaning of this?" he asked harshly.

A fourth guard stepped to the front of the group and spoke. "Sir Guy, we apprehended this outlaw in the forest surrounding Locksley. We believe he may be one of Robin Hood's men, Sir."

Djaq was putting up a good effort, but it was clear she was never going to be able to overpower the soldiers on her own. If she wasn't careful, she was going to wind up seriously hurt. "Can you not hold him still?" Guy snapped.

His mind raced as he tried to come up with a way out of this. Any outlaw was to be taken to Nottingham Castle and hanged immediately. Traditionally, this would be the point where Robin was supposed to leap into action and begin the rescue. So where was he? Guy stalled for time. "You were right to bring him here," he said. "Perhaps we can question him and discover the location of the rest of the gang."

************************

There was an awkward silence. Djaq stopped struggling. The guards looked at each other. "Of course, Sir Guy," one of them said. "Maybe we should... wait outside?"

"I think not."

Of course, now Robin decided to show up, surrounded by -- surprise, surprise -- the rest of the gang. "Face the wall," Robin said. "Sit down, hands on your heads." He gestured with his bow, arrow at the ready, as if it had never occurred to him that it was intended to be a long range weapon. "You too, Gisborne."

Robin strode over and put a hand on his shoulder, as if to "assist" him in sitting down. Instead, he leaned in. "I do not know who orchestrated this," he whispered fiercely. "But I swear to you, it was not me." Guy gave a tiny nod.

"Djaq?" Robin asked, stepping away.

Her voice was steady when she answered. "I am fine."

"Good. Will, Allan, take Djaq with you. Keep watch -- I want to know immediately if anyone else shows up." Guy couldn't see them leaving, but Robin started talking again. "So, shall we get on with the usual relieving you of your valuables and mocking your incompetence, or would someone like to share with the class what's really going on?"

No one moved.

"It does seem like quite the coincidence, don't you think, John? One of us is captured, and yet instead of being taken straight to Nottingham, he winds up here, in Locksley, where the rest of us just happen to be close by." The words were casual, but there was a clear threat lurking underneath.

"Robin!" Much sounded affronted.

John just grunted. "I don't care for what you're suggesting. Try pointing the blame at one who deserves it, for once." Guy was guessing that meant him, and took a moment to hope Isabella would stay well out of the way until the whole thing was over. If necessary, they'd made arrangements for her to leave England entirely.

"How about you lot, then? Anything to say for yourselves?"

Again, there was silence.

"I don't mean to pressure you, but if the Sheriff, or any more of his men, ride into town right now? Your future does not look good. See, we would simply leave, and the Sheriff likes Gisborne here, but you four..."

It was telling that Guy wasn't even sure whether Robin was threatening to kill the soldiers himself, or if he was suggesting the Sheriff would do it. Nottingham had become a place of danger from all sides, it seemed.

There was nervous shifting coming from the wall where the soldiers were sitting. "Time is of the essence here, gentlemen," Robin said.

"Just tell him," one of the men hissed. "We're going to die anyway!"

"May I stand?" It must be the captain. Guy thought his voice sounded familiar. They might have met before -- taking reports, maybe?

Robin must have indicated that standing was acceptable, because the captain's voice came from higher up when he spoke again. "We brought your man here on purpose," he said. "We were testing Gisborne. The guard's willing to throw their lot in against the Sheriff, but none of us knew which way Gisborne would jump."

Oh, that was just too much. Were they all destined to work at cross-purposes?

Robin, too, seemed to grasp the irony of the situation, if the laughter was anything to go by. When he could talk again, he said, "Much, send Will and Allan back in, would you? You and Djaq can stand watch -- you've heard this before, I think. Guy, you might as well get up."

"I don't believe I've heard this," Isabella interrupted, gliding down the stairs, looking not at all like she'd interrupted a highly volatile situation.

"Milady," the captain said, nodding nervously.

"How many of the guard?" Guy asked suddenly.

Now the captain looked even more nervous. "Well." He looked at the other soldiers, then at the ceiling, as if he was tossing off a quick prayer. Then he looked Guy straight in the eye and said, "All of them."

"Right," Robin said. "So you hate the Sheriff, and we hate the Sheriff, and Gisborne hates the Sheriff. And we've all been dancing around each other because we weren't sure where the others stood. But we're all on the same side after all."

It was a gross oversimplification of the situation, but essentially correct. He hoped. Isabella said brightly, "Does that mean we can make better plans now?"

************************

This, Guy thought, as the sword arced towards his neck, was not a better plan. He ducked, and it missed, whistling through the air over his head. He dove to the side and brought his own blade up to guard.

"You're slowing down, Gisborne," Robin called.

"Just biding my time, Locksley," he growled back.

They came together in a clash of metal on metal. Swords, this time, instead of bare-knuckle brawling -- it was a dangerous way to relieve stress, but even Much agreed it was better than the brooding. They fought in the forest, usually, surrounded by green. Even with the sun beating down around them, it was nothing like the Holy Land.

Robin's foot slipped on an exposed root, and Guy pressed his advantage. In close enough range, size and power could still beat speed and agility. He feinted right and then lunged, tackling Robin to the ground. He pinned the other man, and felt the familiar prickle on the back his neck. He was sure at least one of the gang watched their battles. Whether it was to guard Robin from possible treachery or for some other reason, he wasn't sure.

"Do you yield?" he asked.

Robin's eyes narrowed. "You know," he said, "If this were a real fight, that never would have worked."

"Because of the knife in your boot?" Guy slid one of his own knives out of his sleeve. He flipped it end over end and then held it to Robin's throat. "I did consider that."

Robin laughed. "Yes, all right, I yield. You win."

The fights were good for both of them, he thought, rolling to his feet and replacing the knife with the ease of long practice. The Sheriff had been distracted lately, doubtless cooking up some new scheme to advance himself. The gang had been busy doing what Isabella called "community support" -- organizing work days to get the crops harvested, taking care of odd jobs in the villages -- and cutting back on the thievery. Robin had privately declared it tedious, but pitched in as much as anyone. Meanwhile, Isabella and Marian were busy with some sort of whisper campaign among the women. It was slow going -- slow and frustrating -- but they were making progress in shifting public support away from the Sheriff.

"Do you think Djaq is right?" Robin asked suddenly.

"About?"

"That the Sheriff will bring about his own downfall, through his own actions and ambitions."

Guy knew that Robin often worried whether or not they'd chosen the right course of action. Or inaction, as the case might be. By not forcing a direct confrontation with the Sheriff, Robin felt that the responsibility for his actions fell partially on their shoulders. Guy agreed, at least in principle. Those who saw injustice being done and did nothing were complicit in the wrongdoing. But subtle action was not the same as no action at all.

"Yes," he said.

"You're lying," Robin told him.

He was. Or rather, he believed that ultimately, the Sheriff would be his own undoing, but he would prefer to hurry the process along as much as possible. "Not really. We are doing good, Robin. Real, tangible good, every day. Besides," he added, sitting down. "It's too hot to fight about it."

"Yeah." Robin leaned against a tree, for once looking fairly untroubled.

Guy hesitated. It was a tricky subject, and he momentarily regretted the weaker position being seated placed him in. Still, if Robin wanted people to ignore his problems, he'd spend all his time with Much. "You seem more relaxed lately."

Robin met his gaze easily. "Yeah," he said again. "This 'community support' your sister thought up. It's a good idea. Doing real work, being in the villages -- it feels like England. Like what England is supposed to be." He took a deep breath. "It feels like we're finally home."

************************

"Gisborne! Wake up!"

He opened his eyes, but it didn't help. He couldn't see anything in the inky darkness. New moon, he thought, reaching for the dagger under his pillow.

The voice was louder this time. "Gisborne!" At this rate, whoever it was would wake the servants before he got close enough to stab.

"What?" he hissed, sliding out of bed on the far side.

"Oh, good; you're awake. Don't kill me, mate -- it's Allan." The voice was retreating back towards the doorway. "Robin's getting the others. Meeting in your kitchen."

Despite the warning, he wasn't fully prepared for the sight that greeted him when he pushed open the kitchen door. Light spilled out into the hallway, and he blinked, willing his eyes to adjust faster. It didn't work. He was three steps into the room before he realized "the others" meant not only all of Robin's people, but also Isabella, Marian, and Marian's father. Also, he was barefoot and still carrying a dagger.

John was busy at the fireplace, but everyone else turned to look at him. "Morning," Robin said casually, as if he'd seen Guy in nightclothes and brandishing a dagger before. Which he might have, actually. Marian made a noise that might have been a giggle. Guy just frowned and claimed a seat at the table, barely resisting the urge to slam the blade into the wood. He did not like surprises. Especially in the middle of the night.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"Emergency strategy meeting," Allan said. "We finally learned what the Sheriff's been planning all this time."

"I really hate the Sheriff," Much added.

Robin took over before they could delve any further off track. "He's planning to root us out." Guy made what he hoped would be interpreted as a "go on" gesture. "By bringing back the King."

And suddenly he felt wide awake. "King Richard is returning?" That would be excellent, if unexpected, news. The King would not stand for a corrupt Sheriff, and Robin was certainly guaranteed his ear. The Sheriff could be ousted by simple royal decree -- quick, easy, and painless, for everyone but the Sheriff himself.

"No."

The hope died as quickly as it had been born. "So you woke me up to tell me the King isn't returning?"

"No. Not exactly. The Sheriff is bringing in an impostor to pose as the King. Anyone who speaks out against the Sheriff, or any of us --" Robin said, gesturing around the room, "--who come out of hiding, will be arrested."

"And hanged," Will added unnecessarily.

"How did you find out about this plan?" It didn't sound like the sort of thing the Sheriff would just go around talking about, especially to anyone he might suspect of divided loyalties. That category included nearly everyone in the room, and Guy knew the information hadn't come from him.

"The Sheriff told his new page," said Robin. "Who told one of the kitchen maids, who told Eve, who told Alice, who told Marian. Marian told Isabella, and here we are." Robin spread his hands, as if it was that simple. Guy didn't even recognize half the names in the sequence, but if anyone would, it would be Robin.

"And you have a plan?" he asked.

"That's the best part -- we hardly need one. The Sheriff has finally overstepped his bounds. Before, his laws and punishments were unjust, but he could set them because he was appointed by Prince John to preserve the peace. But conspiring to impersonate the King -- that's a crime against the crown. He can be tried by the King's Bench for that."

John seemed to speak for all the outlaws when he said, "Robin, we've no idea what you're talking about."

Oddly, it was Much that spoke up. "The Court of King's Bench is the highest court in England. They only handle matters regarding the royal family."

"More than that," Robin added, "they have unlimited criminal jurisdiction. And they travel a circuit."

Guy frowned. "There cannot possibly be a justice of the King's Bench on his way here right now. Circuit judges rarely come to Nottingham." The Sheriff would never make that kind of mistake.

Robin just smirked. "Then I'd say we're due, wouldn't you?"

************************

It had come to this. The Sheriff had called the public to come forward -- a public ceremony for the return of the "King" and his visit to Nottingham. Too early, though. Nearly a week before expected, "King Richard" had showed up at the castle along with a full retinue of guards. What was left of Robin's gang was spread throughout the courtyard along with the rest of the crowd. Much, Will, Allan, and Djaq were -- hopefully -- on their way with the Lord Chief Justice. If they arrived in time, it would be a stroke of luck like they hadn't experienced in months.

"People of Nottingham," the Sheriff orated, spreading his hands wide and addressing the crowd. Guy lurked behind him, with Marian and Isabella close by. He'd fought to keep them from being there at all, but it would have been impossible to explain. "Today is indeed a great day. King Richard has returned to us from the Holy Land!"

The people cheered. Guy folded his arms and hoped his expression looked more "menacing bodyguard" than "disgusted spy." "King Richard" had yet to actually appear.

"As is traditional, the King will be taking reports from the local Lords. He will be here for several days -- days of feasting and plenty for all of us. Please welcome... King Richard!" The Sheriff stepped aside, and gestured to the doors of the castle. Sure enough, out strode a man dressed in the finest robes, with a shiny crown perched on his head. He waved, and the people ate it up, screaming and chanting.

And then Robin leaped onto the gallows. He had his bow in one hand, but no arrow ready to fly. "People of Nottingham," he shouted, repeating the Sheriff word for word. The cheering stopped. "I am Robin of Locksley, known to you as Robin Hood. I fought at the King's side for four years in the Holy Land. I say to you -- that is not the King of England. That is not King Richard!"

The impostor King shifted nervously, looking at the Sheriff. The Sheriff looked completely calm as he stepped forward again. "You are an outlaw, Locksley," he called loudly. "You have forfeited your rights in Nottingham by your own choice." He gestured to the guards. "Kill him."

Chaos reigned. The last thing they wanted was a bloodbath. Guy kept one eye on the Sheriff and the other on Robin, who was currently holding off the Sheriff's guards easily, since they didn't actually want to kill him, or even capture him. If the "King's" guards got involved, it would be a different story.

"Hold!" A new voice rang out in the courtyard. A man riding a dusty horse stood up in his stirrups. "I demand an audience with the Sheriff of Nottingham!"

"Who are you?" the Sheriff asked.

"I am the Lord Chief Justice, president of the King's Bench," the man said calmly. "I'm here at the request of the people of Nottingham."

The Sheriff was finally starting to lose his cool. "That's impossible," he said. "You're not the Lord Chief Justice. This is a trick!"

The man reached under his shirt and pulled out a seal that plainly held the royal crest. Instead of responding directly to the Sheriff, he spoke to the courtyard as a whole. "This seal was given to me by the King of England when I took up my duties on the Court of the King's Bench. It represents my solemn duty to uphold the law and protect the crown. I am the Lord Chief Justice -- do you recognize me as such?"

He could have been Robin's twin in his ability to work a crowd. The Sheriff's frown deepened as the crowd's enthusiastic support got louder. "Sheriff!" the newcomer called. "Will you grant me an audience?"

The Sheriff had no choice but to consent. Guy made sure all the guards present were ones with no love for the Sheriff, and sent Marian to watch the impostor King Richard. He himself headed for the upper levels of the castle, where he felt confident he would run into --

Sure enough, the whole gang was milling around the corridor, laughing and clapping each other on the back. Robin grabbed his arm and swung him into an impromptu dance before being dragged off and engulfed in a bear hug by John. Guy skirted the edge of the group until he reached Much. "You made it," he said, knowing the other man would take it as an invitation to explain.

"Yes, well, we would have been back sooner if some people had spent more time watching the trail, and less time watching each other." Much grumbled and glared in the direction of his traveling companions, but it was without any real heat.

"Is that really the Lord Chief Justice?" Guy wanted to know. "He's very..." He tried to think of the right word. "Dynamic."

Much caught on right away. "The resemblance is uncanny, isn't it?" he asked, flicking his eyes to Robin. "But yes, it's really him. He'll try to convince the Sheriff to leave on his own, in return for leniency -- it would give the King's Bench a chance to get closer to a possible conspiracy. If not -- well, I'm still willing to go the arrest and hang route."

He wasn't, not really, but Guy could understand the feeling. "Good work," Guy said. His eyes were on Robin, which was how he missed Much moving in until the hug was nearly over.

"Thanks," Much said, stepping back. "We couldn't have done it without you."

************************

Guy of Gisborne, newly appointed Sheriff of Nottingham, tried not to startle when Robin climbed through his window. "You know," he said conversationally. "I wondered if you'd have trouble breaking that habit. You could just use the door now."

"But this is so much more fun," Robin said. "Besides, I haven't had a chance to say congratulations yet."

Guy would be more comfortable if he didn't. "Aren't you needed in Locksley?"

"Locksley was in good hands this past year. Just as Nottingham is now." Robin dropped into a chair and propped his feet up on a nearby table. It would only be a matter of time before he helped himself to the wine as well. "Don't think you can get rid of me that easily."

They'd won, mostly. The Sheriff had been peacefully ousted and escorted out of Nottingham, along with the impostor "King." The Lord Chief Justice was overseeing their trial and punishment, and had named Guy as the Sheriff's successor -- slightly outside his legal jurisdiction, but hard for the Prince to argue with once it was done. Guy had pardoned Robin and the other outlaws, who had, for the most part, returned to their former lives.

"Is Much settling in at Bonchurch?" Isabella had moved with Guy into the castle, leaving Much the long-promised lodge.

Robin laughed. "Oh yes. I think he's taken a bath every day. And every morning he shows up at the Manor, looking for breakfast and singing the praises of not living in caves. Sometimes actually singing, unfortunately."

"What about you?" Guy asked. "Do you miss being 'Robin Hood?'"

Robin hesitated before answering, pouring them both a drink. "No," he said finally. Guy's disbelief must have shown on his face, because Robin added, "Well, parts of it, maybe. But the time for playing outlaw in the forest has ended, and the time for serious work has begun."

Guy made a face. That sounded awfully familiar. "Did Marian tell you that?"

"Isabella, actually. She's right, though -- we can make Nottingham safe again. The people need sensible role models now, for all that it's not as much fun as heroing about passing out sacks of coins."

Guy held up his cup. "To the end of an era," he said.

Robin's eyes were bright as he held up his own cup. "To new beginnings," he added.

They drank, then eyed each other over the empty cups. They moved towards each other at the same moment, meeting in a first kiss that Guy had been half-expecting ever since their first fight. When they broke apart, Robin grinned.

"That," he said, "is an excellent new beginning."

Guy couldn't agree more.