Denial II, Chapter 3: Le Corpse
Title: Denial II, Chapter 3: Le Corpse
Author: perteltote
Characters/Pairings: Vaizey, Guy, Robin, Much, brief appearances by others
Rating: PG-13
Genre: drama, angst
Words: 2,372
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Beta'd by teamlavender . Takes place at the end of an AU 2x13. Introduction and chapter links for Denial II are here...
Summary: Grief-stricken, Robin leaves camp, intent on finding Marian's killers. Much follows...
>>-------------------->
Chapter 3: Le Corpse
Vaizey grimaced in disgust at the sound of morning prayers drifting through the abbey. He absolutely detested the waste of resources devoted to someone as worthless as God. If he had a tenth of that wealth... No matter; with what he already had, he could bend even this bastion of godliness to his purposes. No one was as good as Vaizey at finding the cracks and fault-lines that made people vulnerable...the correct pressure applied to the abbess and...voila! He would have what he wanted...whatever he wanted.
He reached for his goblet but was distracted by another, even more annoying, sound. Gisborne was sniffling again. Would the man never stop? Would he never stop grieving over that dead leper?
Vaizey sprang out of his chair, stomped over to the door, and flung it open.
"Gisborne! Stop snivelling, you stupid wretch. Your precious Marian is dead, and what's more, you killed her. Get over it already."
The soft sobs continued as if he was not even there. Gisborne slumped on the edge of the bed, face pressed tight into a coverlet, fingers clinging to Marian's hand.
Vaizey could not stand being ignored.
He clicked his tongue, then shook his head. "Oh Gisborne, Gisborne, when will you ever learn? She's dead, you idiot! Get off her and get her into the ground. We are not going to drag a stinking body back to Nottingham with us."
Well, he was not going to anyway. If Guy continued to insist on dragging her around with him there were going to be two bodies in that grave. He smiled to himself. Guy would probably approve. Together...for eternity...united in death. He giggled a little at the ridiculousness of it, of actually wanting to spend eternity with another person.
As his words finally sunk in, Gisborne showed signs of life. He turned his head and glared. His lip curled up in that familiar sneer, but instead of climbing off the bed like a normal person, he crouched over her and snarled.
Yes, snarled. At Vaizey. Sudden laughter choked him. Luckily for Gisborne, he thought it was funny.
"There's no need to act like a feral dog, Gisborne. You've already killed her...yes, knocked her right in the head I'm afraid...you might as well cut your losses. I was thinking of a funeral. Tomorrow morning, perhaps? Yes. IT. WILL. BE. TOMORROW. I expect you to attend."
As Vaizey left the room, Gisborne collapsed back onto the bed in sobs. What a pathetic excuse of a man.
>>-------------------->
Guy could not remember how long he had been here with her. Hours, days, even weeks -- his recollection ever since that moment had become uncertain, but however long it had been, he was certain there was no mercy for him anywhere. That memory remained in sickening detail. The heat of the earth rising up to him, the solidity of the blade. Then the abrupt contact vibrating up his arm, and, oh God, the hollow thunk her head had made. He turned his eyes away in desperation, but he already knew there was no escape. He could vaguely remember the feel of his blade sliding into Allan -- please no! not him too! -- but everything else between then and now was gone, crushed by the weight of what had come before. He laid his head back down next to her. If only he could just die now.
Minutes, maybe hours, later there was a noise at the door, and when he looked up he saw Vaizey. As soon as the smaller man entered the room, Guy once again felt an almost overpowering urge to protect her. She wasn't safe with Vaizey in the room. Christ! She wasn't safe with him in the room. She would never be safe again. He clutched her to him -- how could this have happened? How could he have done this to her? He would never hurt her. He listened as Vaizey spoke.
"Gisborne! It's all arranged, dear boy. Let's take her down to the chapel. The mother superior herself will perform the service in the morning and they have a nice rose bush you can bury her under. I expect it will be quite lovely."
Yes...a perfect funeral. That was all he could offer her now. Guy could hardly stand the thought of her resting here, so far from her home, so far from him. She should be at Knighton. If he could, he would bury her in the ashes of Knighton. Yet another thing he had destroyed. But no, he had taken that from her. He had taken everything from her. Vaizey was right, this abbey was the best he would find. At least it was peaceful and quiet. He felt momentarily grateful to the sheriff for arranging it, for knowing what to do. He had not expected his lord would be so sympathetic.
He climbed out of the bed, then looked down on her for a moment before heaving her up over his shoulder. As he walked, he tried to imagine it was a game, that in a moment she would laugh and wiggle, perhaps flip off of his back as she had once before, but the weight of her arms bumping limply against his back kept the truth fresh in his mind.
Vaizey glanced at him with curiosity and said, "Finally Gisborne, you've seen reason. Thought for a while there, I'd have to bury you with her." He smiled broadly and Guy noticed the light glinting off of his studded tooth.
He followed the sheriff down to the chapel where he arranged her carefully on the prepared place. Yes, he would keep vigil tonight. Tomorrow, he would say goodbye.
>>-------------------->
When the gang left the king's tent, they paired off. First Will and Djaq's private murmuring had turned into a lengthy and heated discussion outside the healer's tent. Much had tried his best not to eavesdrop, but still heard all about Allan and the decision to move him to Bassam's house. He was not sure who was on which side or who had won the argument, but afterwards Will and Djaq had left to make the arrangements and oversee Allan's transport. Then Little John and Legrand made their excuses and gone off to plan the trip to Poiters.
Much had turned away to go with Carter, but when he glanced back he had seen Robin standing solitary, an unreadable expression on his face. Unreadable to everyone else. But Much had known there was pain and the grief behind the mask and, as he watched, he had seen the mania rise, tightening Robin's jaw with determination, filling the familiar grooves and furrows of Robin's brow. He had known the man was about to do something reckless -- known that was what Robin did when faced with sorrow. Robin had turned to go and Much had squeezed Carter's hand, pleading silently for understanding -- Much was not with Robin anymore, but he still could not allow him to put himself at risk.
"I have to go with him...he will get himself killed," he whispered to Carter. Carter nodded and helped Much out of his new white cloak.
Carter hugged it to his chest, then looked up into Much's eyes before saying, "Don't worry, it will wait for you...and so will I."
Much felt tears prickling as he turned to go. He hoped Carter would always feel that way.
As Much dogged Robin through Acre, he thought about how much he hated this, how much it was like it had been before...before he had left the forest...before Carter. Robin was searching feverishly, wrapped up in his own need -- in his own mission, ignoring all of Much's comments and questions. It was impossible to know what he was after, but Much had a strong suspicion that it was nothing good.
Robin questioned stall-keepers, marketers, and tavern-keepers, seemingly completely at random. Gradually, they moved farther and farther to the east of town and gradually Much became more and more certain what Robin was after. He thanked God that Robin was unaware that his Arabic had gotten much better. For now, the man was speaking freely in front of him. He doubted Robin would have allowed him to listen if he knew he understood -- Robin had always tried to keep him in the dark when his disapproval was likely. Much tried not to show too much interest, but could not help the gasp that escaped him when Robin asked after a group of men wearing black. Robin eyed him suspiciously before moving away to quiz a passerby in a lowered voice. This time, Much only caught the word Āmrʼh -- a woman -- but that was enough...those things together could only mean...
"Robin... You are not looking for...you cannot mean to...you cannot track them down by yourself."
The man finally acknowledged him for long enough to grin and reply, "But I'm not by myself, am I? I've got you."
Much pushed down his sympathy -- he knew Robin hid suffering behind a smiling face, but the pain of being made to feel a servant again made it easy. "This isn't funny Robin. The king will be angry that you've gone off on your own. Leave them to his justice."
The grin turned grim, and Robin spat, "No! It isn't funny, Much. They are traitors and murderers, and I will make sure they receive what they deserve. They have avoided it for too long already...they have..." Robin stopped abruptly and turned away, hurrying blindly towards what appeared to be a small abbey.
"It will not bring her back. Robin, come away," he said gently.
"No, I will not come away. I will find them and I will..."
Much would not be ignored like this, brushed aside like he didn't matter. He was a knight now, his opinion counted. He reached out and caught Robin's arm in a firm grip. "No! You are not yourself. I will not permit you to continue unless you promise me you will do nothing before summoning the king's guards."
Robin looked down at his hand for a moment before laughing. "Oh, you will not permit me to continue? Pray, tell me, how exactly do you intend to accomplish that?" He stared pointedly at the sword at Much's waist before raising an eyebrow. Much sighed. The other way Robin dealt with grief was by pushing those around him away. Fortunately, Much had more than just Robin to love now.
"Robin," he said in exasperation.
Robin bowed his head as if ashamed before replying, "You are right, I will...I will find them, but then we will call for help. I will..."
Robin broke off again and began muttering fiercely to himself. Much considered how much harm could he do in an abbey anyway? Robin headed towards the chapel and Much followed. Perhaps the evening mass would calm him. He began preparing a prayer to offer at the altar, words to mourn her death, words to comfort Robin, but as Robin neared the door, Much sensed something was wrong. He heard...sobbing? Yes, he was certain it was sobbing and it was coming from the chapel.
"Wait, Robin, I think we should..."
"Gisborne..." Robin whispered, "I knew I would find them. I will make him pay..."
Much crouched next to Robin and peered through the doorway. It was Gisborne. He scanned the room, but there was no one else. Odd. That meant he must be the one crying. Much had never expected to see that one on his knees in a church. As he stared, the scene suddenly clicked...candles, a chapel, and what was that...a body. His eyes opened wide in shock; it was a vigil, it had to be for Marian.
"I will kill him," Robin hissed, fumbling at his hip for his sword.
"No. We must get the King's Guards. You promised."
Gisborne looked up as Robin's sword cleared its sheath. Robin charged down the aisle towards him and Much watched in frustration as Guy drew his sword and planted himself firmly in front of Marian's body.
The clash of their weapons echoed in the deserted chapel. They fought wildly, neither caring whether they took wounds as long as they reached the other.
Did they not realize they fought on consecrated ground? They would kill each other, here, in front of God. Uncertain of the best course, Much started forward, hand at his own hilt. He must stop them. As he neared, he was able to hear the words they were exchanging -- each accusation more painful than the last.
"...she is gone! I promise you, I will see you dead!"
"It is your fault you fool! How could you knowingly place her in such a situation?"
"No! It is your fault! You wielded the blade!"
"You never deserved her...you could not provide for her...protect her..."
"I loved her!"
"No! I loved her!"
As Much searched for an opening to break the two apart, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Vaizey. He whirled to face the new threat.
"Oh, come now, Bonchurch." Vaizey smiled. "We are old friends, are we not? I'm sure we both have their best interests at heart. I'm sure that it's best for them both to be...dead! With that stupid leper! Guards!"
"Robin!" Much called desperately. "Robin! Come away! It is sinful to fight on consecrated soil!"
"No! I will not leave her with him! He killed her!"
At his words, Guy looked back at Marian. He shuddered, then dropped his guard as he said, "He is right...just go, Hood, there has been too much death."
"Too much death at your hands, Gisborne. She will have justice." His face a mask of fury, Robin stepped forward. Gisborne made no move to defend himself as Robin deliberately swung his pommel into Gisborne's temple. As Guy collapsed to the floor, Robin watched in satisfaction.
"Now...now she can be at peace," Guy said, a strange smile coming to his face as the blood pooled.
"Robin! On holy ground...how could you? Come away!"
As Vaizey's hired Saracens began pouring in the far end of the chapel, Much dragged Robin back down the aisle. He had to get him away, he had to get him back to the king. Perhaps then he would see reason.
Chapter 4 >>--------> this way...
Author: perteltote
Characters/Pairings: Vaizey, Guy, Robin, Much, brief appearances by others
Rating: PG-13
Genre: drama, angst
Words: 2,372
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own; we just want to play in their universe
Notes: Beta'd by teamlavender . Takes place at the end of an AU 2x13. Introduction and chapter links for Denial II are here...
Summary: Grief-stricken, Robin leaves camp, intent on finding Marian's killers. Much follows...
>>-------------------->
Chapter 3: Le Corpse
Vaizey grimaced in disgust at the sound of morning prayers drifting through the abbey. He absolutely detested the waste of resources devoted to someone as worthless as God. If he had a tenth of that wealth... No matter; with what he already had, he could bend even this bastion of godliness to his purposes. No one was as good as Vaizey at finding the cracks and fault-lines that made people vulnerable...the correct pressure applied to the abbess and...voila! He would have what he wanted...whatever he wanted.
He reached for his goblet but was distracted by another, even more annoying, sound. Gisborne was sniffling again. Would the man never stop? Would he never stop grieving over that dead leper?
Vaizey sprang out of his chair, stomped over to the door, and flung it open.
"Gisborne! Stop snivelling, you stupid wretch. Your precious Marian is dead, and what's more, you killed her. Get over it already."
The soft sobs continued as if he was not even there. Gisborne slumped on the edge of the bed, face pressed tight into a coverlet, fingers clinging to Marian's hand.
Vaizey could not stand being ignored.
He clicked his tongue, then shook his head. "Oh Gisborne, Gisborne, when will you ever learn? She's dead, you idiot! Get off her and get her into the ground. We are not going to drag a stinking body back to Nottingham with us."
Well, he was not going to anyway. If Guy continued to insist on dragging her around with him there were going to be two bodies in that grave. He smiled to himself. Guy would probably approve. Together...for eternity...united in death. He giggled a little at the ridiculousness of it, of actually wanting to spend eternity with another person.
As his words finally sunk in, Gisborne showed signs of life. He turned his head and glared. His lip curled up in that familiar sneer, but instead of climbing off the bed like a normal person, he crouched over her and snarled.
Yes, snarled. At Vaizey. Sudden laughter choked him. Luckily for Gisborne, he thought it was funny.
"There's no need to act like a feral dog, Gisborne. You've already killed her...yes, knocked her right in the head I'm afraid...you might as well cut your losses. I was thinking of a funeral. Tomorrow morning, perhaps? Yes. IT. WILL. BE. TOMORROW. I expect you to attend."
As Vaizey left the room, Gisborne collapsed back onto the bed in sobs. What a pathetic excuse of a man.
>>-------------------->
Guy could not remember how long he had been here with her. Hours, days, even weeks -- his recollection ever since that moment had become uncertain, but however long it had been, he was certain there was no mercy for him anywhere. That memory remained in sickening detail. The heat of the earth rising up to him, the solidity of the blade. Then the abrupt contact vibrating up his arm, and, oh God, the hollow thunk her head had made. He turned his eyes away in desperation, but he already knew there was no escape. He could vaguely remember the feel of his blade sliding into Allan -- please no! not him too! -- but everything else between then and now was gone, crushed by the weight of what had come before. He laid his head back down next to her. If only he could just die now.
Minutes, maybe hours, later there was a noise at the door, and when he looked up he saw Vaizey. As soon as the smaller man entered the room, Guy once again felt an almost overpowering urge to protect her. She wasn't safe with Vaizey in the room. Christ! She wasn't safe with him in the room. She would never be safe again. He clutched her to him -- how could this have happened? How could he have done this to her? He would never hurt her. He listened as Vaizey spoke.
"Gisborne! It's all arranged, dear boy. Let's take her down to the chapel. The mother superior herself will perform the service in the morning and they have a nice rose bush you can bury her under. I expect it will be quite lovely."
Yes...a perfect funeral. That was all he could offer her now. Guy could hardly stand the thought of her resting here, so far from her home, so far from him. She should be at Knighton. If he could, he would bury her in the ashes of Knighton. Yet another thing he had destroyed. But no, he had taken that from her. He had taken everything from her. Vaizey was right, this abbey was the best he would find. At least it was peaceful and quiet. He felt momentarily grateful to the sheriff for arranging it, for knowing what to do. He had not expected his lord would be so sympathetic.
He climbed out of the bed, then looked down on her for a moment before heaving her up over his shoulder. As he walked, he tried to imagine it was a game, that in a moment she would laugh and wiggle, perhaps flip off of his back as she had once before, but the weight of her arms bumping limply against his back kept the truth fresh in his mind.
Vaizey glanced at him with curiosity and said, "Finally Gisborne, you've seen reason. Thought for a while there, I'd have to bury you with her." He smiled broadly and Guy noticed the light glinting off of his studded tooth.
He followed the sheriff down to the chapel where he arranged her carefully on the prepared place. Yes, he would keep vigil tonight. Tomorrow, he would say goodbye.
>>-------------------->
When the gang left the king's tent, they paired off. First Will and Djaq's private murmuring had turned into a lengthy and heated discussion outside the healer's tent. Much had tried his best not to eavesdrop, but still heard all about Allan and the decision to move him to Bassam's house. He was not sure who was on which side or who had won the argument, but afterwards Will and Djaq had left to make the arrangements and oversee Allan's transport. Then Little John and Legrand made their excuses and gone off to plan the trip to Poiters.
Much had turned away to go with Carter, but when he glanced back he had seen Robin standing solitary, an unreadable expression on his face. Unreadable to everyone else. But Much had known there was pain and the grief behind the mask and, as he watched, he had seen the mania rise, tightening Robin's jaw with determination, filling the familiar grooves and furrows of Robin's brow. He had known the man was about to do something reckless -- known that was what Robin did when faced with sorrow. Robin had turned to go and Much had squeezed Carter's hand, pleading silently for understanding -- Much was not with Robin anymore, but he still could not allow him to put himself at risk.
"I have to go with him...he will get himself killed," he whispered to Carter. Carter nodded and helped Much out of his new white cloak.
Carter hugged it to his chest, then looked up into Much's eyes before saying, "Don't worry, it will wait for you...and so will I."
Much felt tears prickling as he turned to go. He hoped Carter would always feel that way.
As Much dogged Robin through Acre, he thought about how much he hated this, how much it was like it had been before...before he had left the forest...before Carter. Robin was searching feverishly, wrapped up in his own need -- in his own mission, ignoring all of Much's comments and questions. It was impossible to know what he was after, but Much had a strong suspicion that it was nothing good.
Robin questioned stall-keepers, marketers, and tavern-keepers, seemingly completely at random. Gradually, they moved farther and farther to the east of town and gradually Much became more and more certain what Robin was after. He thanked God that Robin was unaware that his Arabic had gotten much better. For now, the man was speaking freely in front of him. He doubted Robin would have allowed him to listen if he knew he understood -- Robin had always tried to keep him in the dark when his disapproval was likely. Much tried not to show too much interest, but could not help the gasp that escaped him when Robin asked after a group of men wearing black. Robin eyed him suspiciously before moving away to quiz a passerby in a lowered voice. This time, Much only caught the word Āmrʼh -- a woman -- but that was enough...those things together could only mean...
"Robin... You are not looking for...you cannot mean to...you cannot track them down by yourself."
The man finally acknowledged him for long enough to grin and reply, "But I'm not by myself, am I? I've got you."
Much pushed down his sympathy -- he knew Robin hid suffering behind a smiling face, but the pain of being made to feel a servant again made it easy. "This isn't funny Robin. The king will be angry that you've gone off on your own. Leave them to his justice."
The grin turned grim, and Robin spat, "No! It isn't funny, Much. They are traitors and murderers, and I will make sure they receive what they deserve. They have avoided it for too long already...they have..." Robin stopped abruptly and turned away, hurrying blindly towards what appeared to be a small abbey.
"It will not bring her back. Robin, come away," he said gently.
"No, I will not come away. I will find them and I will..."
Much would not be ignored like this, brushed aside like he didn't matter. He was a knight now, his opinion counted. He reached out and caught Robin's arm in a firm grip. "No! You are not yourself. I will not permit you to continue unless you promise me you will do nothing before summoning the king's guards."
Robin looked down at his hand for a moment before laughing. "Oh, you will not permit me to continue? Pray, tell me, how exactly do you intend to accomplish that?" He stared pointedly at the sword at Much's waist before raising an eyebrow. Much sighed. The other way Robin dealt with grief was by pushing those around him away. Fortunately, Much had more than just Robin to love now.
"Robin," he said in exasperation.
Robin bowed his head as if ashamed before replying, "You are right, I will...I will find them, but then we will call for help. I will..."
Robin broke off again and began muttering fiercely to himself. Much considered how much harm could he do in an abbey anyway? Robin headed towards the chapel and Much followed. Perhaps the evening mass would calm him. He began preparing a prayer to offer at the altar, words to mourn her death, words to comfort Robin, but as Robin neared the door, Much sensed something was wrong. He heard...sobbing? Yes, he was certain it was sobbing and it was coming from the chapel.
"Wait, Robin, I think we should..."
"Gisborne..." Robin whispered, "I knew I would find them. I will make him pay..."
Much crouched next to Robin and peered through the doorway. It was Gisborne. He scanned the room, but there was no one else. Odd. That meant he must be the one crying. Much had never expected to see that one on his knees in a church. As he stared, the scene suddenly clicked...candles, a chapel, and what was that...a body. His eyes opened wide in shock; it was a vigil, it had to be for Marian.
"I will kill him," Robin hissed, fumbling at his hip for his sword.
"No. We must get the King's Guards. You promised."
Gisborne looked up as Robin's sword cleared its sheath. Robin charged down the aisle towards him and Much watched in frustration as Guy drew his sword and planted himself firmly in front of Marian's body.
The clash of their weapons echoed in the deserted chapel. They fought wildly, neither caring whether they took wounds as long as they reached the other.
Did they not realize they fought on consecrated ground? They would kill each other, here, in front of God. Uncertain of the best course, Much started forward, hand at his own hilt. He must stop them. As he neared, he was able to hear the words they were exchanging -- each accusation more painful than the last.
"...she is gone! I promise you, I will see you dead!"
"It is your fault you fool! How could you knowingly place her in such a situation?"
"No! It is your fault! You wielded the blade!"
"You never deserved her...you could not provide for her...protect her..."
"I loved her!"
"No! I loved her!"
As Much searched for an opening to break the two apart, he caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Vaizey. He whirled to face the new threat.
"Oh, come now, Bonchurch." Vaizey smiled. "We are old friends, are we not? I'm sure we both have their best interests at heart. I'm sure that it's best for them both to be...dead! With that stupid leper! Guards!"
"Robin!" Much called desperately. "Robin! Come away! It is sinful to fight on consecrated soil!"
"No! I will not leave her with him! He killed her!"
At his words, Guy looked back at Marian. He shuddered, then dropped his guard as he said, "He is right...just go, Hood, there has been too much death."
"Too much death at your hands, Gisborne. She will have justice." His face a mask of fury, Robin stepped forward. Gisborne made no move to defend himself as Robin deliberately swung his pommel into Gisborne's temple. As Guy collapsed to the floor, Robin watched in satisfaction.
"Now...now she can be at peace," Guy said, a strange smile coming to his face as the blood pooled.
"Robin! On holy ground...how could you? Come away!"
As Vaizey's hired Saracens began pouring in the far end of the chapel, Much dragged Robin back down the aisle. He had to get him away, he had to get him back to the king. Perhaps then he would see reason.
Chapter 4 >>--------> this way...