rebirthing - an allan/marian oneshot after 3.12
Title: Rebirthing (1/1)
Pairing: Allan/Marian.
Rating: T
Summary: AU. Set after the episode 3.12 - HUGE SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT!
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything (sadly enough); English is not my own language so I apologize for errors/typos. X-posted at fanfic.net
Hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think! :)
It all happens too fast and all the previous indignation and anger become suddenly disbelief under the shock of the unexpected sight.
The trees surrounding him get transformed into an indistinct blur as the outlaw -pardon, former one- rushes into the well known forest.
He can only run as the sheriff… the real one, Vasey, not that bloody Isabella, and his men chase after him; bows in position, ready to strike.
And he runs, oh if he runs, like he has never run before; not even when they were chased down by the infamous sheriff’s dogs in the middle of the night.
He runs to save his brothers’ skin. Because, after all, he still considers them so.
He runs to tell them it was all a trap.
One arrow.
He runs to prove his loyalty.
Another arrow.
He runs to save his own life.
Another one.
He runs to-
Too late.
[...]
He slowly opens his eyes, but is forced to shut them back a second later under the blinding power of the sunlight creeping through the foliage of the trees towering over him.
He lets out a small groan as he squirms under the light, a deaf pain in his back and the worst throbbing headache possible. He’s halfway ready to silently curse himself for the too many ale pints he must have had the previous night at the Trip Inn (along with some female company if his charms didn’t deceive him… thing that actually seldom happened), when he suddenly remembers.
"Traitor!!!"
"What did you tell ‘em?"
"I swear, I haven’t betrayed you!"
"Much?!"
"You believe me Guy..."
"Tuck..."
"...Robin?"
"You’ve done that before!"
"Everyday I wish I could that that back, you know it!!!"
"...None of you, none of you believe me. I’ll be off then."
"Tie him up!"
And then he’s tied up against a tree.
Freeing himself and setting off on his own.
"You give them the best years of your life… and for what?!"
The ultimate chase.
The sheriff coming back from what had been proclaimed as sure death.
The arrows.
The...
He winces inwardly as flashes run before his eyes, the painful -literally and not- recollection rushing through his mind as little fragments that eventually complete the puzzle. He wants to almost childishly protest at the realization.
I can’t be... oh no, can I?
He opens his eyes again, taking a few moments to adjust to the daylight… if daylight it is, at this point he can’t be sure anymore. Then he slowly forces himself into an upright position, absorbing the familiar surroundings of Sherwood Forest in puzzlement.
Puzzlement that soon leaves place to utter shock when, glancing straight ahead of him, crutched down upon a river he could have sworn was never there, there’s a white dressed womanly figure.
No, he’s sure that’s not an angel.
First, cause there’s no way in hell -no pun intended- that he, Allan A Dale, expert conman and trickster with a cheating and betraying past can be allowed into heaven. He may not be an expert in this kind of religious stuff (honestly, his natural background is more a tavern like one), but he surely knows that heaven is not for the ones like him. Perhaps not a permanent hell either… after all he did his daily dose of poor-helping with the gang, but at least a few weeks of purgatory then.
Second, said white dressed figure has no wings. Or halo. Or whatever an angel must have in the whole package.
He’s halfway regretting not to have ever questioned Tuck on what happens after dead or whenever he is now, when the figure turns her head in his direction… and he freezes, quite literally.
Heaven or not, there’s no way he can ever mistake those soft brown curls, those full rosy lips, or those crystal blue eyes that now are staring back at his own just like the sky reflects in the sea.
He has never forgotten them.
He could have never forgotten them.
"You’re awake." Marian pipes up almost matter-of-factly in her usual gentle voice. There’s no surprise in her tone, no shock. She speaks like someone who has been patiently waiting for something she already knew was going to happen, something completely normal.
Normal as in diametrically opposite to what he’s feeling right now, cause hearing her voice has waken up something buried deep down inside of him. Something he hasn’t felt anymore since that terrible day in the Holy Land, when half passed out, half lucid under the burning sun he had lifted up his hopeless eyes to find her in the distance, riding towards them all.
Just like that time, he can only stand still and stare as she calmly makes her way towards him, unsure whether he’s hallucinating or not. He notices she’s wearing the same dress she was wearing that same day, the day they buried her in the desert, only it’s completely white now… the red blood stains have disappeared. His mouth remains slightly open when she reaches him and sits down on a bare, round shaped, smooth rock on his right side but perpendicular to his position; she moves her knees to her chest, hugging them with her arms as she smiles at him.
"Not being funny, but you look like you’ve just seen a ghost."
He gives a light snort of amused disbelief, he doesn’t even know if that’s for the absurdity of the situation or for hearing her saying his trademark catchphrase.
"Honestly Marian, can you blame me?"
She draws back her head, brown curls dancing on her shoulders as she lets out a goodhearted laugh.
"I’m not a ghost Allan." She says with a smile, "Though I’m glad you still remember my name."
Alright, now he doesn’t know anymore if he’s just hallucinating or if he’s definitely and totally gone insane.
"Could say the same about you." He mumbles unheard. "So if you’re not a ghost, is this... some kind of dream?" He tentatively asks; he already knows the answer... and that’s cause he had dreamt of her many times, none of them this vividly.
In response she just shakes her head and places her chin on her knees; then she slowly outstretches her hand towards him, as if to let him concretely see she’s there in flesh and bones.
"No need to." He quietly shakes his head as well. And indeed there’s no need to, at this point he already knows what this means. Truth be told, he doesn’t even hope anymore for a different kind of revelation, however that doesn’t stop him to ask a last question before accepting his unchangeable fate.
"...Are you here to send me back?" He cocks his head on a side, trying to make it look like a nonchalant inquiry; after all Allan A Dale on earth wasn’t one to show his feelings, was he? Now why should that have changed in the afterlife?
Marian’s sad expression though not only reveals that she’s not buying the pretence, but also that his first assumption was correct.
Allan A Dale is no more.
He’s dead.
Killed.
Shot in the back like a common coward.
"I’m sorry." She says in the lowest, sweetest tone possible.
He slowly nods his head, a casual shrug of shoulders following.
"Yeah, me too."
She outstretches her hand again and, this time, she doesn’t wait for him to pinch it or something, she gently runs her silk-like skin through the blondish curls on his forehead, almost like a mother does with her child in an affectionate movement; and the simple gesture is so full of understanding sympathy that there’s no need of further words on the matter, leaving him with a new found lump in his throat.
Once her hand is back on her side and he feels more like himself again, the outlaw attempts the faintest smile, immediately mirrored on her face.
"At least I hope you didn’t sacrifice yourself for the king too," she pipes up with a somewhat amused edge in her voice trying to light up the atmosphere "with all due respect, we should really stop doing that."
He can’t help but chuckle at her playful eye-roll.
"Nope, no king Richard involved this time."
"Former almost husband who placed a sword in your stomach?"
"Neither."
"Very glad to hear so." She lightly giggles, "I’m glad you had a more dignified death than me."
"Ah, I won’t be too sure about that now." It’s his turn to reply with a playful eye-roll now, and from the cheeky grin on his face it’s like nothing has ever changed. They’re not both dead, they’re not having a conversation somewhere in the afterlife about how they died... no, they’re just them. Allan and Marian, lightly conversing as they have done many times in the castle in a past that now seems incredibly far away.
"How come?" She asks in curiosity, her chin defiantly high in the air as to say "Try me." The usual, full of life and stubbornness, Lady Marian.
“At least you didn’t die alone, Miss I-came-back-from-death-once.” His words are meant as a joke, but they come heavier than he expected, showing all the fresh pain of the gang’s latest behavior towards him.
"Oh."
He seems lost for a moment in the awkwardness of the situation, his gaze fixed on an undefined point on the grass in between them.
"I cried for you." He then reveals out of the blue, as he’s in some sort of trance. "Both times."
She weakly smiles, "I didn’t see tears when I woke up the first time."
"You were too busy noticing Robin’s."
"Little John was covering the visual."
"Right," he chuckles "my bad, m’lady."
"I did glance after Robin, you weren’t there." She protests.
"I know, I went outside."
"Why?" She wrinkles her brows in puzzlement.
"Didn’t want them to see me cry, did I?"
She rolls her eyes, muttering something that sounds very much like a scoffed "Men."
He hears and laughs, moving his boot-clad foot on the grass.
"I was the one finding out you were still breathing."
"I know," she weakly smiles at the new found softness in his voice "I wish you could have done that the second time too."
His stomach gives an unpleasant twist at the sadness etched for a moment on her face and, for once, it has nothing to do with hunger.
"Why, don’t they treat you well here?" He asks with a halfhearted grin, trying to distract her.
She giggles, "Better than at the castle."
"Good. Makes me have good hopes for myself. No Guy ordering me all over the place."
They share another half amused, half self-conscious smile before they both look down. She’s carelessly playing with the grass at her feet when she speaks up next.
"I cried for you too."
He blinks a couple of times in confusion, "You weren’t there Marian." He points out matter-of-factly.
She offers another eye-roll, "I had to wait for awhile before you finally woke up."
"Oh."
Her words remain hanging in the air and he feels a new warmness inside of himself, unsure of what to say next. She spares him the trouble, though, speaking almost in a whisper.
"What happened?"
"...Don’t you already know?" He unsurely asks, puzzlement etched on his features.
"I wasn’t there Allan." Now it’s her turn to matter-of-factly echo, one corner of her mouth twitched in amusement.
"I know but- don’t you see what goes on from up here... or wherever we are now?"
She shakes her head, "It doesn’t exactly work that way."
"Oh, alright." He nods his understanding, "Then I guess- I got shot. Arrows. In the back."
She lets out a small hiss in between gritted teeth.
"What happened? Was there an attack to the camp? An assault to the castle gone wrong?"
He sees the concern on her face and he can’t help but think that’s all for Robin.
"Nope, I was surprised alone from the Sheriff and his men."
"Don’t tell me on the way to the Inn." She raises an eyebrow, almost as if to say ‘If that’s how you died, I’m going to beat you up cause that’s not nearly enough.’
"No, no Trip Inn." He cheekily grins, "That would have been at least a sweeter death."
She ignores the comment... or better, dismisses it with a glare. "And where was the rest of the gang? Why weren’t you in pairs as usual?"
He looks down for a brief moment before lifting his blue eyes on her again.
"They kicked me out. I ain’t no longer outlaw." He reveals in a low, serious tone. "Or at least... I wasn’t. I’m not exactly sure of what I am right now, actually."
Her surprise is evident as her jaw drops in disbelief.
"But how- what happened?!"
"You really want to know?" He darkly smiles.
"Of course I do." She adjusts in a perfectly upright position, all her attention on him.
He gives a stiff nod before shrugging his shoulders in a ‘Why not’ way.
"There was a trap. We had information to get inside the castle unnoticed... they must have found out ‘cause I was proclaimed restored from my condition of outlaw."
"...’m afraid I’m not following you."
"The gang thought this was the proof that I had sold them away, again."
"...They surely did not!" She instinctively exclaims, and he can only be grateful for her genuine indignation.
"I’m afraid they did."
"You tried to explain everything, right?"
"Of course I did." He scoffs.
"But Robin surely-"
"No, he didn’t."
"What about the others?"
"Neither."
"That’s... that’s..." She trails off without knowing what she exactly wants to say, a hand running though her hair.
"I didn’t." He solemnly announces, "I didn’t give them away this time Marian, I swear."
She takes a couple of seconds to respond, but when she does, her voice is transparent and sincere.
"I know you didn’t."
He’s taken aback by her sweet firmness, his borrows furrowed as her words fully sink in.
"How can you? You didn’t see what happened."
"I don’t need to see it. You just told me."
"I’m a well known liar." He snorts.
"I don’t care."
"I told them too."
"I’m not them."
"I can’t explain what exactly-"
"You don’t need to." She cuts him off.
"But why?" He sternly asks, desperate for anything to understand why she, Robin’s wife, is siding with him.
"Cause I do believe you Allan, I do." She softly yet firmly settles the matter, her hand on top of his as their eyes connect once again.
He’s the one to turn his gaze away a few seconds later, glancing down at his lap.
"Things would have been different if you were still there with us."
The corners of her mouth curve up in affectionate gratitude before she bits down on her bottom lip.
"You’re not a fan of Robin’s new... friends, are you?"
Allan’s head suddenly jerks up at her words, "I thought you said you can’t see-"
"You can’t see everything." She explains, "I think you can only see what you need to see."
“So you can’t see anything but Robin kissing bloody Isabella or Kate?!” He snorts, “Not being funny Maz, but this being dead thing sucks.”
She can’t help the giggle escaping her lips at his definitely Allan-like comment.
"No, really, it does." He repeats.
"Have you ever loved someone, Allan?" She asks out of the blue, "Like truly loved someone?"
He stares at her quite taken aback by the unexpected question, and in the flash of a second his crush for Kate disappears and it’s like he had never even liked her.
All he can see are flashes of past moments dancing before his eyes.
There’s Marian looking down at him for the very first time as he’s about to be hanged;
There’s Marian telling him he’s a brave man with her sweetest smile;
There’s Marian, close to him, too close, threatening him to stop betraying Robin;
There’s Marian, her hands on his chest, pleading to Robin to spare his life;
There’s Marian conspiratorially exchanging glances with him behind Guy’s back;
There’s Marian running to him cause she can’t find Robin anywhere;
There’s Marian offering to talk to Robin for him;
There’s Marian almost taking his eye out with her knives-launching skills;
There’s Marian fiercely screaming at him to never betray her;
There’s Marian in chains asking for his help on the way to Portsmouth;
There’s Marian closing her arms around him in the sweetest embrace;
He doesn’t even have a chance to answer cause she continues a moment later, "When you love someone with every single cell of your body, with all your soul and you have loved this somebody for your whole life... you eventually learn not to be selfish anymore." She gives a helpless yet full of sadness shrug, "You just want him to be happy... even without you at his side."
And yes, he can understand. Oh, if he can.
He sees himself in the background when a just-awaken-from-apparent-death Marian clings onto Robin, relief rushing through his body even though he’s not the one holding her on his chest;
He sees Marian and Robin in the desert, exchanging votes on his right side, feeling grateful she eventually had the chance to live her dream before it was too late;
He knows.
There’s not need for him to reply as he just nods his head in understanding.
"They’re not you though." He speaks up next, and he knows now he’s speaking his heart. "And they never will."
"Thank you Allan." She gratefully smiles at him, distractedly playing with her bare ring finger.
"He- he still loves you. I’m sure he does." He firmly says, and he doesn’t even realize he has said that until he notices a small yet sad smile on her face. He knows though that he’s not doing this for Robin, to justify him, no; it’s all for her, for the exact reason she has just explained.
"I know, I believe that."
"Good." He attempts a cheerful smile, but miserably fails.
"Allan, it’s alright." She lightly giggles at his sympathy, something she had never thought she was ever going to witness. "I’ve got a lot of time to think this over... I prefer him happy than to be still grieving for someone who will never return. Do you remember? That day, in the desert… it was me telling him to keep up the fight... he needs to go on with his life."
"Okay, I get it then... you’re not an angel, you’re a saint!" He exclaims almost outraged.
"No, I’m not." She wholeheartedly laughs, "I’m far from a saint, believe me."
"Well... alright, after all you’ve messed Guy up really bad… he’s siding in with the gang now!"
She laughs at his exclamation, and he soon follows, feeling immediately better and wondering how someone dead could still be full of life as the young lady before his eyes.
"Maybe that’s the reason why I died," she muses a few moments later "so they could finally see eye to eye. Eliminate the obstacle, somehow."
"...Not being funny, but that would be the lamest reason to die ever." He snorts.
She mocks an offended look, playfully hitting his knee.
"Now let’s not start again this death-comparing thing though, alright?" He playfully rolls his eyes, a trademark smirk on his lips.
"Fine," she gives up with a smile "That won’t change anything anyway."
He sadly smiles, "Do you have any regrets?"
His expression is soon mirrored on her unchanged beautiful features, "Yes, I do. I wish I could have managed things better... with Robin, with Guy... Maybe this ending was evitable. If only I would have been less foolish-"
"I’m sorry." He blurts out interrupting her speech.
"Yeah, me too." She echoes repeating his earlier words.
"No, I mean... before we left for Portsmouth, when you asked for my help-"
"Allan, don’t."
"No, that’s the truth!" He protests, "I could have changed things. If I would have been less selfish and helped you finding Robin and stopping the sheriff... you wouldn’t have even come to the Holy Land."
"Allan-"
"Or at the inn in Portsmouth... I should have ignored your protest and bring you away safely with me. Perhaps you could have stayed behind or hidden and-"
"Did I ever tell you you’re a good man, Allan A Dale?" She questions with her sweetest smile.
"No offence Maz, but you’re often wrong with such assumptions." He darkly chuckles, "You also told me I was brave once."
"I remember, I still believe it." She shrugs her shoulders and he can tell that she really means it. Then she stands up, "We’d better get going now."
"Where?" He asks, and he can’t help the fear echoing in his words.
"Not far," she points a finger in the direction where she came from "we just need to go through the downfall at the end of the river."
"Alright," he swallows "does it- hurt?"
"Hurt? Not at all," she smiles "it’s just like here. Maybe there’s just a bit more sky through the trees and a bit less green, but you won’t complain, trust me. It would be just like Sherwood... maybe with a few extra comforts, I lived at the camp and eww, this is way better."
She offers him her hand, looking down at him with her most angelic expression.
"Will you still be with me once... there?" He blurts out before he can’t stop himself, feeling quite embarrassed at the childlike question.
"Of course I will," she widely smiles "I’m not going anywhere."
He awkwardly nods as he stands up, closing his hand around hers and smiling as she entwines their fingers.
"What’s so funny?" She asks in amusement noticing his low chuckle.
"Nothing, it’s just..." he shrugs his shoulders, "you feel real... alive."
"I know, there’s a lot of rubbish they have been told us about death, I suppose."
"I’m still not sure this isn’t a dream though."
"You can pinch me." She offers, unaware of falling in his trick. After all, he knows well how to lie.
"Actually I was thinking of another way."
"Alright, go on then." She innocently offers, standing still and waiting for him to pull at her arm or something.
Only that never happens because, still holding her hand, he leans forward and captures her tender lips in a soft kiss.
"Alright, you’re real enough." He announces once he pulls back, one corner of his mouth up in a grin.
She blinks a couple of times realizing what has just happened, then can’t help but smile back. A small scoff escapes her lips as they start to walk again.
"What?" He questions.
"That’s so like you, Allan A Dale. Just arrived in heaven and already trying to charm the ladies." She playfully scolds.
He wholeheartedly chuckles, "Actually I wanted to have that taste of heaven long before dying."
She averts her eyes as a faint blush colors her cheeks, their hands still entwined.
"Can I say something totally inappropriate?" He wonders a few moments later.
"As if that has ever stopped you before." She retorts.
"I’m still sorry you’re dead... but right now I can’t help but be happy you’re here with me." He sincerely reveals.
"I don’t wish you to be dead either..." she echoes after a moment of hesitation, "but I’m glad you’re here with me too."
He gives a soft squeeze to her hand as they get lost once again in the ocean of each other’s eyes, both contently smiling. Then she takes the lead again and guides him through the river.
"...’right, maybe this death thing is not that bad after all, you know?" It’s the only thing that echoes behind as they disappear through the waterfall, her giggles responding to his cheeky remark.
Pairing: Allan/Marian.
Rating: T
Summary: AU. Set after the episode 3.12 - HUGE SPOILERS IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN IT!
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything (sadly enough); English is not my own language so I apologize for errors/typos. X-posted at fanfic.net
Hope you enjoy it and let me know what you think! :)
It all happens too fast and all the previous indignation and anger become suddenly disbelief under the shock of the unexpected sight.
The trees surrounding him get transformed into an indistinct blur as the outlaw -pardon, former one- rushes into the well known forest.
He can only run as the sheriff… the real one, Vasey, not that bloody Isabella, and his men chase after him; bows in position, ready to strike.
And he runs, oh if he runs, like he has never run before; not even when they were chased down by the infamous sheriff’s dogs in the middle of the night.
He runs to save his brothers’ skin. Because, after all, he still considers them so.
He runs to tell them it was all a trap.
One arrow.
He runs to prove his loyalty.
Another arrow.
He runs to save his own life.
Another one.
He runs to-
Too late.
[...]
He slowly opens his eyes, but is forced to shut them back a second later under the blinding power of the sunlight creeping through the foliage of the trees towering over him.
He lets out a small groan as he squirms under the light, a deaf pain in his back and the worst throbbing headache possible. He’s halfway ready to silently curse himself for the too many ale pints he must have had the previous night at the Trip Inn (along with some female company if his charms didn’t deceive him… thing that actually seldom happened), when he suddenly remembers.
"Traitor!!!"
"What did you tell ‘em?"
"I swear, I haven’t betrayed you!"
"Much?!"
"You believe me Guy..."
"Tuck..."
"...Robin?"
"You’ve done that before!"
"Everyday I wish I could that that back, you know it!!!"
"...None of you, none of you believe me. I’ll be off then."
"Tie him up!"
And then he’s tied up against a tree.
Freeing himself and setting off on his own.
"You give them the best years of your life… and for what?!"
The ultimate chase.
The sheriff coming back from what had been proclaimed as sure death.
The arrows.
The...
He winces inwardly as flashes run before his eyes, the painful -literally and not- recollection rushing through his mind as little fragments that eventually complete the puzzle. He wants to almost childishly protest at the realization.
I can’t be... oh no, can I?
He opens his eyes again, taking a few moments to adjust to the daylight… if daylight it is, at this point he can’t be sure anymore. Then he slowly forces himself into an upright position, absorbing the familiar surroundings of Sherwood Forest in puzzlement.
Puzzlement that soon leaves place to utter shock when, glancing straight ahead of him, crutched down upon a river he could have sworn was never there, there’s a white dressed womanly figure.
No, he’s sure that’s not an angel.
First, cause there’s no way in hell -no pun intended- that he, Allan A Dale, expert conman and trickster with a cheating and betraying past can be allowed into heaven. He may not be an expert in this kind of religious stuff (honestly, his natural background is more a tavern like one), but he surely knows that heaven is not for the ones like him. Perhaps not a permanent hell either… after all he did his daily dose of poor-helping with the gang, but at least a few weeks of purgatory then.
Second, said white dressed figure has no wings. Or halo. Or whatever an angel must have in the whole package.
He’s halfway regretting not to have ever questioned Tuck on what happens after dead or whenever he is now, when the figure turns her head in his direction… and he freezes, quite literally.
Heaven or not, there’s no way he can ever mistake those soft brown curls, those full rosy lips, or those crystal blue eyes that now are staring back at his own just like the sky reflects in the sea.
He has never forgotten them.
He could have never forgotten them.
"You’re awake." Marian pipes up almost matter-of-factly in her usual gentle voice. There’s no surprise in her tone, no shock. She speaks like someone who has been patiently waiting for something she already knew was going to happen, something completely normal.
Normal as in diametrically opposite to what he’s feeling right now, cause hearing her voice has waken up something buried deep down inside of him. Something he hasn’t felt anymore since that terrible day in the Holy Land, when half passed out, half lucid under the burning sun he had lifted up his hopeless eyes to find her in the distance, riding towards them all.
Just like that time, he can only stand still and stare as she calmly makes her way towards him, unsure whether he’s hallucinating or not. He notices she’s wearing the same dress she was wearing that same day, the day they buried her in the desert, only it’s completely white now… the red blood stains have disappeared. His mouth remains slightly open when she reaches him and sits down on a bare, round shaped, smooth rock on his right side but perpendicular to his position; she moves her knees to her chest, hugging them with her arms as she smiles at him.
"Not being funny, but you look like you’ve just seen a ghost."
He gives a light snort of amused disbelief, he doesn’t even know if that’s for the absurdity of the situation or for hearing her saying his trademark catchphrase.
"Honestly Marian, can you blame me?"
She draws back her head, brown curls dancing on her shoulders as she lets out a goodhearted laugh.
"I’m not a ghost Allan." She says with a smile, "Though I’m glad you still remember my name."
Alright, now he doesn’t know anymore if he’s just hallucinating or if he’s definitely and totally gone insane.
"Could say the same about you." He mumbles unheard. "So if you’re not a ghost, is this... some kind of dream?" He tentatively asks; he already knows the answer... and that’s cause he had dreamt of her many times, none of them this vividly.
In response she just shakes her head and places her chin on her knees; then she slowly outstretches her hand towards him, as if to let him concretely see she’s there in flesh and bones.
"No need to." He quietly shakes his head as well. And indeed there’s no need to, at this point he already knows what this means. Truth be told, he doesn’t even hope anymore for a different kind of revelation, however that doesn’t stop him to ask a last question before accepting his unchangeable fate.
"...Are you here to send me back?" He cocks his head on a side, trying to make it look like a nonchalant inquiry; after all Allan A Dale on earth wasn’t one to show his feelings, was he? Now why should that have changed in the afterlife?
Marian’s sad expression though not only reveals that she’s not buying the pretence, but also that his first assumption was correct.
Allan A Dale is no more.
He’s dead.
Killed.
Shot in the back like a common coward.
"I’m sorry." She says in the lowest, sweetest tone possible.
He slowly nods his head, a casual shrug of shoulders following.
"Yeah, me too."
She outstretches her hand again and, this time, she doesn’t wait for him to pinch it or something, she gently runs her silk-like skin through the blondish curls on his forehead, almost like a mother does with her child in an affectionate movement; and the simple gesture is so full of understanding sympathy that there’s no need of further words on the matter, leaving him with a new found lump in his throat.
Once her hand is back on her side and he feels more like himself again, the outlaw attempts the faintest smile, immediately mirrored on her face.
"At least I hope you didn’t sacrifice yourself for the king too," she pipes up with a somewhat amused edge in her voice trying to light up the atmosphere "with all due respect, we should really stop doing that."
He can’t help but chuckle at her playful eye-roll.
"Nope, no king Richard involved this time."
"Former almost husband who placed a sword in your stomach?"
"Neither."
"Very glad to hear so." She lightly giggles, "I’m glad you had a more dignified death than me."
"Ah, I won’t be too sure about that now." It’s his turn to reply with a playful eye-roll now, and from the cheeky grin on his face it’s like nothing has ever changed. They’re not both dead, they’re not having a conversation somewhere in the afterlife about how they died... no, they’re just them. Allan and Marian, lightly conversing as they have done many times in the castle in a past that now seems incredibly far away.
"How come?" She asks in curiosity, her chin defiantly high in the air as to say "Try me." The usual, full of life and stubbornness, Lady Marian.
“At least you didn’t die alone, Miss I-came-back-from-death-once.” His words are meant as a joke, but they come heavier than he expected, showing all the fresh pain of the gang’s latest behavior towards him.
"Oh."
He seems lost for a moment in the awkwardness of the situation, his gaze fixed on an undefined point on the grass in between them.
"I cried for you." He then reveals out of the blue, as he’s in some sort of trance. "Both times."
She weakly smiles, "I didn’t see tears when I woke up the first time."
"You were too busy noticing Robin’s."
"Little John was covering the visual."
"Right," he chuckles "my bad, m’lady."
"I did glance after Robin, you weren’t there." She protests.
"I know, I went outside."
"Why?" She wrinkles her brows in puzzlement.
"Didn’t want them to see me cry, did I?"
She rolls her eyes, muttering something that sounds very much like a scoffed "Men."
He hears and laughs, moving his boot-clad foot on the grass.
"I was the one finding out you were still breathing."
"I know," she weakly smiles at the new found softness in his voice "I wish you could have done that the second time too."
His stomach gives an unpleasant twist at the sadness etched for a moment on her face and, for once, it has nothing to do with hunger.
"Why, don’t they treat you well here?" He asks with a halfhearted grin, trying to distract her.
She giggles, "Better than at the castle."
"Good. Makes me have good hopes for myself. No Guy ordering me all over the place."
They share another half amused, half self-conscious smile before they both look down. She’s carelessly playing with the grass at her feet when she speaks up next.
"I cried for you too."
He blinks a couple of times in confusion, "You weren’t there Marian." He points out matter-of-factly.
She offers another eye-roll, "I had to wait for awhile before you finally woke up."
"Oh."
Her words remain hanging in the air and he feels a new warmness inside of himself, unsure of what to say next. She spares him the trouble, though, speaking almost in a whisper.
"What happened?"
"...Don’t you already know?" He unsurely asks, puzzlement etched on his features.
"I wasn’t there Allan." Now it’s her turn to matter-of-factly echo, one corner of her mouth twitched in amusement.
"I know but- don’t you see what goes on from up here... or wherever we are now?"
She shakes her head, "It doesn’t exactly work that way."
"Oh, alright." He nods his understanding, "Then I guess- I got shot. Arrows. In the back."
She lets out a small hiss in between gritted teeth.
"What happened? Was there an attack to the camp? An assault to the castle gone wrong?"
He sees the concern on her face and he can’t help but think that’s all for Robin.
"Nope, I was surprised alone from the Sheriff and his men."
"Don’t tell me on the way to the Inn." She raises an eyebrow, almost as if to say ‘If that’s how you died, I’m going to beat you up cause that’s not nearly enough.’
"No, no Trip Inn." He cheekily grins, "That would have been at least a sweeter death."
She ignores the comment... or better, dismisses it with a glare. "And where was the rest of the gang? Why weren’t you in pairs as usual?"
He looks down for a brief moment before lifting his blue eyes on her again.
"They kicked me out. I ain’t no longer outlaw." He reveals in a low, serious tone. "Or at least... I wasn’t. I’m not exactly sure of what I am right now, actually."
Her surprise is evident as her jaw drops in disbelief.
"But how- what happened?!"
"You really want to know?" He darkly smiles.
"Of course I do." She adjusts in a perfectly upright position, all her attention on him.
He gives a stiff nod before shrugging his shoulders in a ‘Why not’ way.
"There was a trap. We had information to get inside the castle unnoticed... they must have found out ‘cause I was proclaimed restored from my condition of outlaw."
"...’m afraid I’m not following you."
"The gang thought this was the proof that I had sold them away, again."
"...They surely did not!" She instinctively exclaims, and he can only be grateful for her genuine indignation.
"I’m afraid they did."
"You tried to explain everything, right?"
"Of course I did." He scoffs.
"But Robin surely-"
"No, he didn’t."
"What about the others?"
"Neither."
"That’s... that’s..." She trails off without knowing what she exactly wants to say, a hand running though her hair.
"I didn’t." He solemnly announces, "I didn’t give them away this time Marian, I swear."
She takes a couple of seconds to respond, but when she does, her voice is transparent and sincere.
"I know you didn’t."
He’s taken aback by her sweet firmness, his borrows furrowed as her words fully sink in.
"How can you? You didn’t see what happened."
"I don’t need to see it. You just told me."
"I’m a well known liar." He snorts.
"I don’t care."
"I told them too."
"I’m not them."
"I can’t explain what exactly-"
"You don’t need to." She cuts him off.
"But why?" He sternly asks, desperate for anything to understand why she, Robin’s wife, is siding with him.
"Cause I do believe you Allan, I do." She softly yet firmly settles the matter, her hand on top of his as their eyes connect once again.
He’s the one to turn his gaze away a few seconds later, glancing down at his lap.
"Things would have been different if you were still there with us."
The corners of her mouth curve up in affectionate gratitude before she bits down on her bottom lip.
"You’re not a fan of Robin’s new... friends, are you?"
Allan’s head suddenly jerks up at her words, "I thought you said you can’t see-"
"You can’t see everything." She explains, "I think you can only see what you need to see."
“So you can’t see anything but Robin kissing bloody Isabella or Kate?!” He snorts, “Not being funny Maz, but this being dead thing sucks.”
She can’t help the giggle escaping her lips at his definitely Allan-like comment.
"No, really, it does." He repeats.
"Have you ever loved someone, Allan?" She asks out of the blue, "Like truly loved someone?"
He stares at her quite taken aback by the unexpected question, and in the flash of a second his crush for Kate disappears and it’s like he had never even liked her.
All he can see are flashes of past moments dancing before his eyes.
There’s Marian looking down at him for the very first time as he’s about to be hanged;
There’s Marian telling him he’s a brave man with her sweetest smile;
There’s Marian, close to him, too close, threatening him to stop betraying Robin;
There’s Marian, her hands on his chest, pleading to Robin to spare his life;
There’s Marian conspiratorially exchanging glances with him behind Guy’s back;
There’s Marian running to him cause she can’t find Robin anywhere;
There’s Marian offering to talk to Robin for him;
There’s Marian almost taking his eye out with her knives-launching skills;
There’s Marian fiercely screaming at him to never betray her;
There’s Marian in chains asking for his help on the way to Portsmouth;
There’s Marian closing her arms around him in the sweetest embrace;
He doesn’t even have a chance to answer cause she continues a moment later, "When you love someone with every single cell of your body, with all your soul and you have loved this somebody for your whole life... you eventually learn not to be selfish anymore." She gives a helpless yet full of sadness shrug, "You just want him to be happy... even without you at his side."
And yes, he can understand. Oh, if he can.
He sees himself in the background when a just-awaken-from-apparent-death Marian clings onto Robin, relief rushing through his body even though he’s not the one holding her on his chest;
He sees Marian and Robin in the desert, exchanging votes on his right side, feeling grateful she eventually had the chance to live her dream before it was too late;
He knows.
There’s not need for him to reply as he just nods his head in understanding.
"They’re not you though." He speaks up next, and he knows now he’s speaking his heart. "And they never will."
"Thank you Allan." She gratefully smiles at him, distractedly playing with her bare ring finger.
"He- he still loves you. I’m sure he does." He firmly says, and he doesn’t even realize he has said that until he notices a small yet sad smile on her face. He knows though that he’s not doing this for Robin, to justify him, no; it’s all for her, for the exact reason she has just explained.
"I know, I believe that."
"Good." He attempts a cheerful smile, but miserably fails.
"Allan, it’s alright." She lightly giggles at his sympathy, something she had never thought she was ever going to witness. "I’ve got a lot of time to think this over... I prefer him happy than to be still grieving for someone who will never return. Do you remember? That day, in the desert… it was me telling him to keep up the fight... he needs to go on with his life."
"Okay, I get it then... you’re not an angel, you’re a saint!" He exclaims almost outraged.
"No, I’m not." She wholeheartedly laughs, "I’m far from a saint, believe me."
"Well... alright, after all you’ve messed Guy up really bad… he’s siding in with the gang now!"
She laughs at his exclamation, and he soon follows, feeling immediately better and wondering how someone dead could still be full of life as the young lady before his eyes.
"Maybe that’s the reason why I died," she muses a few moments later "so they could finally see eye to eye. Eliminate the obstacle, somehow."
"...Not being funny, but that would be the lamest reason to die ever." He snorts.
She mocks an offended look, playfully hitting his knee.
"Now let’s not start again this death-comparing thing though, alright?" He playfully rolls his eyes, a trademark smirk on his lips.
"Fine," she gives up with a smile "That won’t change anything anyway."
He sadly smiles, "Do you have any regrets?"
His expression is soon mirrored on her unchanged beautiful features, "Yes, I do. I wish I could have managed things better... with Robin, with Guy... Maybe this ending was evitable. If only I would have been less foolish-"
"I’m sorry." He blurts out interrupting her speech.
"Yeah, me too." She echoes repeating his earlier words.
"No, I mean... before we left for Portsmouth, when you asked for my help-"
"Allan, don’t."
"No, that’s the truth!" He protests, "I could have changed things. If I would have been less selfish and helped you finding Robin and stopping the sheriff... you wouldn’t have even come to the Holy Land."
"Allan-"
"Or at the inn in Portsmouth... I should have ignored your protest and bring you away safely with me. Perhaps you could have stayed behind or hidden and-"
"Did I ever tell you you’re a good man, Allan A Dale?" She questions with her sweetest smile.
"No offence Maz, but you’re often wrong with such assumptions." He darkly chuckles, "You also told me I was brave once."
"I remember, I still believe it." She shrugs her shoulders and he can tell that she really means it. Then she stands up, "We’d better get going now."
"Where?" He asks, and he can’t help the fear echoing in his words.
"Not far," she points a finger in the direction where she came from "we just need to go through the downfall at the end of the river."
"Alright," he swallows "does it- hurt?"
"Hurt? Not at all," she smiles "it’s just like here. Maybe there’s just a bit more sky through the trees and a bit less green, but you won’t complain, trust me. It would be just like Sherwood... maybe with a few extra comforts, I lived at the camp and eww, this is way better."
She offers him her hand, looking down at him with her most angelic expression.
"Will you still be with me once... there?" He blurts out before he can’t stop himself, feeling quite embarrassed at the childlike question.
"Of course I will," she widely smiles "I’m not going anywhere."
He awkwardly nods as he stands up, closing his hand around hers and smiling as she entwines their fingers.
"What’s so funny?" She asks in amusement noticing his low chuckle.
"Nothing, it’s just..." he shrugs his shoulders, "you feel real... alive."
"I know, there’s a lot of rubbish they have been told us about death, I suppose."
"I’m still not sure this isn’t a dream though."
"You can pinch me." She offers, unaware of falling in his trick. After all, he knows well how to lie.
"Actually I was thinking of another way."
"Alright, go on then." She innocently offers, standing still and waiting for him to pull at her arm or something.
Only that never happens because, still holding her hand, he leans forward and captures her tender lips in a soft kiss.
"Alright, you’re real enough." He announces once he pulls back, one corner of his mouth up in a grin.
She blinks a couple of times realizing what has just happened, then can’t help but smile back. A small scoff escapes her lips as they start to walk again.
"What?" He questions.
"That’s so like you, Allan A Dale. Just arrived in heaven and already trying to charm the ladies." She playfully scolds.
He wholeheartedly chuckles, "Actually I wanted to have that taste of heaven long before dying."
She averts her eyes as a faint blush colors her cheeks, their hands still entwined.
"Can I say something totally inappropriate?" He wonders a few moments later.
"As if that has ever stopped you before." She retorts.
"I’m still sorry you’re dead... but right now I can’t help but be happy you’re here with me." He sincerely reveals.
"I don’t wish you to be dead either..." she echoes after a moment of hesitation, "but I’m glad you’re here with me too."
He gives a soft squeeze to her hand as they get lost once again in the ocean of each other’s eyes, both contently smiling. Then she takes the lead again and guides him through the river.
"...’right, maybe this death thing is not that bad after all, you know?" It’s the only thing that echoes behind as they disappear through the waterfall, her giggles responding to his cheeky remark.