Denial, Ch. 58: Sacrifice

[perteltote]

Title: Denial, Ch. 58: Sacrifice
Author: perteltote
Characters/Pairings: Marian, Guy, Allan, Vaizey
Mentions: Robin
Rating: R
Genre: melodrama...implied slash
Words: 2813
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: This continues the 'Round-Robin' fic 'Denial'. Beta'd by robinfanatic , c , darkentwisted  & jagnikjen. Takes place a few days after Team Leather arrives in Acre.

Summary: The Sheriff decides that it is about time he revisited Allan...and maybe Marian too.  This is what happens.

The preceding chapters most important to a full understanding of this include chpts 51, 49, and 44, but you should, of course, read all of them :)

Previous chapter summaries & info about writing for Denial are here...



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Sacrifice

By perteltote

“Look Maz, you got to eat sometime, yeah?”

Ignoring him, Marian stared at the wall.  It was already the end of their third day in Acre, and neither Guy nor Allan had raised a hand to stop her…sale…to the highest bidder.  Bile rose in her throat at the thought - she would rather die than be a slave to some man’s lust for the rest of her life.  She would die first!

So she stared at the wall, stubbornly ignoring the platter that Allan had brought into the room with him.

Allan started again, “Maz, not being funny, but…”

He was interrupted by the scrape of the door as a large body entered the room.

“Guy,” Allan said, “she still won’t eat anyfing, and now she won’t even look at me.”

In two strides, Guy was at her side, grabbing her chin roughly and forcing her to meet his eyes.  “Marian, you will stop this foolishness; you will eat!” he commanded.  She closed her eyes so she did not have to see his cold blue ones, did not have to remember the way his face had gone stiff when he agreed to the sheriff’s plans for her, did not have to remember the way he had ignored her promises and entreaties ever since.

“Marian, please,” she heard him say, his tone different, softer, this time. “Please, you must keep your strength.  Please…I cannot bear…”   He released her face and she opened her eyes, felt a flare of anger as he sank to his knees in front of her chair with his gaze down at her feet.

“Stop this pretense, Guy!  You will not trick me into fattening myself for market.  I will be dead the week after you sell me, and I wish that I was dead now, so I did not have to...” Her voice caught in her throat when he looked up at her, and instead of the ice that she had expected she saw that his eyes were full of pain.  Surprise flooded her as, once again, she remembered that his black leather was as much of a mask as her Nightwatchman costume had ever been.

“Marian…” he started, but jumped back to his feet and stiffened as the door scraped open again.

The sheriff stepped in and she glanced at Guy , saw the ice slide back into place before she turned her face to the wall.

“Mmm, yes, Gisborne, visiting your little pet?  Good! We’re all here,” Vaizey said as he glanced around the room, eyes lingering on Allan. “Thought I’d find you here Gizzy,” he continued, “wanted to let you know that you are to bring both of them to my chamber…tonight…in, oh, would five minutes be enough?  And do leave the lady’s manacles…on…. I think I like her better that way.”  He giggled when Gisborne drew himself up, face unreadable.

“Oh, don’t worry Gisborne, I’ll let her live, she’s proving to be very…valuable…. I’ll even pass her on to you before we sell her off. That should make you happy…it’s what you’ve wanted all this time, isn’t it?”  He smiled again at the look on Gisborne’s face, then his gaze slid to Allan while he added,  “Your boy, however, might not be so lucky...”  He giggled and then snapped, “Five minutes, Gisborne! Or you’ll join them!”  He breezed out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

Marian felt the nausea return, pressing against her throat, and knew that if she had eaten anything in the last three days, she would be losing it now.  She jerked her hands frantically against her manacles, knew that she could not escape, finally understood what it was to be completely helpless.  She looked at Allan, saw the way his skin had turned pale, saw the same fear in his eyes.  She barely noticed the platter drop from his hand, but she saw how he crouched against the wall, already defeated; a kicked dog with nowhere left to hide.  Allan had told her, had told her what they were protecting her from, but she had not believed him, had been unable to believe until now.  Finally, she forced her gaze to Guy, still standing in the same position that the sheriff had left him.  He was perfectly still, face blank except for a solitary muscle twitching in his jaw.

“Guy,” Marian gasped, hardly recognizing her voice as it left her throat, “Guy, if you ever cared for me…”

He suddenly started, seemed to come back to himself.  He stepped over to Allan, and Marian watched, heart sinking, as he pulled the claw dagger out of his jacket.  She blinked in surprise when he pressed the hilt into Allan’s hand, and began speaking urgently, “You must get her out of here, you must both leave.  I can no longer protect you…”  He glanced at Marian, and his voice broke as he begged, “Please protect her, I will try…please, don’t let…you must get the manacles off somehow…there have been rumours…sightings of Hood…you must…please, Allan!”

He stepped over to her, stared at her before reaching out to carefully tuck her hair behind her ear.  He slid a hand into his jacket, pulled something out of a pocket just above his heart.  He pressed it into her hands, and when she looked down, she was surprised to see one of her jeweled hair daggers, the same one her father had used in his cell.  He must have noticed the surprise on her face because, as he wrapped her fingers around it, he muttered, “I have kept it...I would not leave you helpless…”  He stared at her again before continuing, eyes begging. “Please…I…will you…please try to remember only the good I have done for you.”  He leaned down, placed a chaste kiss on her cheek before hurrying to the door.  They heard the sheriff’s voice roaring from the next room, “GISBORNE!! NOW!”  He turned and looked back at her one last time, and she was shocked to see fear in his eyes before he closed the door.

Marian looked dazedly over at Allan, who was still pale, but was at least standing up straight now.  “Allan… Robin is alive? Guy… why?  What is he…?”

“You don’t want to know, Marian,” Allan said, and she noted that his pallor momentarily increased even as he moved purposefully around the room.

“But surely I have never heard him say please so many times in one conversation… or even at all for that matter,”  she half-heartedly jested.

He ignored her comment, all seriousness for once, as he searched the room.  Finally, he stopped and smiled as he picked up some metal shavings lying in the corner.  “Maybe I can get you out with these.”  He moved over to her and began to work on the manacle lock.  “Guy is right, innit he? You heard the sheriff, we really do need to disappear.”

“But why was he talking like that, Allan, why was he acting like that?” she asked, remembering the brush of his lips on her cheek. “It was like he expected never to see us again.”

Allan continued working at the lock in silence, and Marian was silent, too, trying to understand what was happening.  Could Robin really be alive?  And here?  She felt a small bubble of hope rise in her chest, but it was quickly submerged in worry. What is happening to Guy?  What will the sheriff do to him?  Abruptly, she was torn out of her musings by a monstrous sound.  It was absolutely inhuman, and Marian had to suppress an unthinkable suspicion anyway.  Allan stopped, crouched over her irons, frozen in place as it echoed through the room.

“Allan, what is that?  What is that noise?  It can’t be…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "...Allan, that sounds like Guy.”

Allan remained still; she tried to catch his eyes, but he did not see her.  His face stayed blank, with a strange inward focus.

“Allan.  We have to help him.”

He abruptly shook his head and resumed working. “We can’t. This is what he is doing, he wants us to get away, this is the only way.”

“But Allan, the sheriff is killing him.”

Allan refused to meet her eyes and the monstrous sound went on and on until she thought that she would go mad if it lasted for one more second.  Abruptly, it stopped, and she was left uncomfortable in the silence, afraid of whatever had happened and equally frightened that it had stopped.  The silence stretched as her body wound tighter and tighter.

Suddenly, they heard a loud thump and then the sound of slow footsteps moving down the hall.  Marian looked at Allan as his hands stilled, was shocked to glimpse tears in his eyes.  Allan cursed under his breath and dropped the manacles, moving quickly to stand behind the door.  She gripped her dagger tightly as the footsteps came closer.

The sounds stopped just outside the door, and they sat silent, waiting.  Finally, the door flew inward, slamming Allan against the wall as a body fell heavily into the room.  Marian let her breath out in a rush as she examined it.  Covered in blood and bruises and scraps of black leather that looked like they had been chewed by a nest full of rats, the body was barely recognizable as Guy.  Eyes wide, she could only stare for a few minutes before jumping up to help him.  As soon as she rose, she was jerked back into her seat by her chains.

“Allan,” she hissed, “help Guy.”

Allan hesitantly approached the bloody figure before picking up a clenched fist to check his pulse.  As he moved the fingers uncurled and a small key fell out.

“The key… that’s why he came back…to bring the key,”  Allan muttered, scooping it up and bringing it over to unlock her.

As soon as her hands were free, she rushed to Guy, looked him over, tried to see if he was seriously injured.  He was covered in an impenetrable film of blood and sweat and something… else.  Smothering her revulsion, she grabbed a basin of water from the table, pulled a sheet off of the bed and began sponging his skin.

Allan grabbed her arm. “Marian, we should go.”

Outraged, she replied, “And leave him here?  He will bleed to death, and if he doesn’t, the sheriff will kill him!”  She ripped her arm out of his grasp and began sponging again, ignoring Allan where he sat propped against the wall.  She heard him mutter something that sounded like “…and maybe he’d rather be dead…” before she stopped listening.

Guy was covered in scratches and long slices, most of which were shallow, but several on his arms were worse and bleeding steadily.  The scariest was a deep cut on his throat which was still pumping out blood.  She shivered. Why would he cut there…was Vaizey actually trying to…kill him?  She wrapped his arms tightly, but kept pressure on the neck wound with her hand as she tried to roll him over.

“Allan, help me!  I need to examine his back.”  There was no reply, and when she looked up at Allan, she saw that his face was set in that strange inward stare again and, this time, tears were rolling down his cheeks.  She quickly looked away and continued tugging at Guy until he finally flopped over onto his stomach.  She started sponging the blood off of his shoulders, pleased to see that there were not as many cuts on his back.  She remained pleased until she uncovered the bruises.  There were layers and layers covering his back, buttocks and thighs, the oldest a barely-visible yellow overlaid with shades from green to a fresh, raw maroon.  She swallowed when she realized why his clothing was so remarkably - not in the way - of her sponging.  She swallowed again at what the layers of bruising meant - this was not the first time Guy had protected her.  She felt tears well up in her eyes as she thought about what his boat trip - if not his whole life - must have been like.  A sob choked her throat as she looked up at Allan, and saw that he, too, was sobbing as he stared at Guy’s bruises.  “Allan, we are leaving now.  And we are taking Guy with us.”

“But Robin…”

“I don’t care what Robin thinks.  We don’t even know if he is really alive.”

Allan just sat, seemingly unable to take his eyes off of Guy.  Marian decided to try a more direct strategy. “Allan, come here and roll him back over.”  He crawled over and pulled at Guy.  Marian kept pressure on Guy’s throat as he settled onto his back.  “Ok, let’s think,”  she said, “what will we need to take with us?  Guy will need more clothes, we will need money, and weapons wouldn’t hurt either.”

“How about horses?  Dunno how we’re going to move him anywhere,”  Allan added.

Marian glanced at him, relieved that he was finally showing signs of life.  “Yes, we’ll take the horses,” she agreed.  “Is it safe to say the sheriff will be… incapacitated… for a little while at least?”

“Probably… I guess,” Allan said.

Marian sighed; he was not going to be much help after all.  “I will stay here with Guy, and you go into the other chamber and find the money.” Glancing at Allan again, she realized that he was in no state to face the sheriff, incapacitated or not. “Never mind, you will take this cloth and keep pressure on Guy’s neck, while I go find the money.  Give me Guy’s claw.”

She tucked her dagger into her hair, and clutching the claw in her hand, she tiptoed back down the hall to the next chamber.  She pushed it open with her foot before darting inside, dagger at the ready.  As she quickly scanned for danger, she was relieved to see the sheriff passed out on the bed.   A bed with red sheets, how odd she thought, her gaze flickering around the room.  A moment later, she looked back at the bed and felt sick as she realized that the bed was red with blood, Guy’s blood, soaking through the mattress and dripping onto the floor. How much blood had he already lost? What if he…   Shaking the thought off, she began searching for a likely looking chest or bag.  Finally, she found what she was looking for and, looping the bag over her shoulder, walked toward the door.  At the last minute, she remembered Guy’s slashed clothing and looked around the room a second time, located Guy’s bag, and, taking that as well, left.

When she got back to her room, she hurriedly began pulling clothes out.  She found three black shirts and another pair of black leather trousers. Of course, what else did I expect, she thought as she handed the clothes to Allan.  She packed a few necessities into another bag as Allan dressed the larger man.  She kept her eyes averted, not needing a reminder of the horrible bruising covering his back.

When Allan was done, she came over and scrutinized Guy’s neck wound.  It seemed to have slowed down, but was still bleeding.  She tied a bandage around it and sighed. It would have to do.

“Ok, you get his arms, I’ll grab his legs,” she said.  Allan smirked and looked at her skeptically, but did as he was told.  By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, Marian was mentally cursing the unconscious man, cursing those shoulders that kept bumping the walls and all that leg that was turning out to be unbearably heavy, even cursing that long neck that meant his lolling head bumped every step on the way down.

By the time they got him out of the inn and onto a horse, she was completely exhausted and incredibly hungry.  She thought longingly of the platter Allan had dropped onto the floor.  Ignoring her body, she jumped onto her horse and dug her heels in.  Guy’s horse snorted and rolled its eyes, unsettled by the dead weight on its back, but she just pulled it along behind her, feeling confident and satisfied now that they were finally leaving.

Feeling confident, that is, until she heard Allan behind her.

“Umm, Maz, where are we headed anyway?

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