Strange Bedfellows
Title: Strange Bedfellows
Author: ctquill
Word Count: 1690
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Allan, Marian, mentions others
Genre: Gen, a little bit of angst
Spoilers: For S2
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Characters owned by BBC and Tiger Aspect.
Notes: Missing scene set during 2x08. Allan returns to collect Marian's letter for Guy. Written for rh_intercomm
Marian sat on her bunk and scratched a quill across a piece of parchment from Robin's hoard. It spluttered ink, blotting what she'd already written. She swore under her breath.
She heard rustling outside the camp. Her hand closed on her knife, but she didn't throw it this time, just waited.
The door swung up. For the second time that day, Allan a Dale stood there. He peered in cautiously, saw that she was still alone, and sauntered into the camp.
“You have it?”
He twirled the ring on the tip of his finger, grinning. She couldn't help but think of a cat that had found the cook's supply of cream.
His hair, so neatly kept since he had entered Guy's employ, had returned to its old tousled state. A few leaves clung to it, and his fine black clothes. His boots were scuffed, his tunic askew.
“I do not want to know how you got that,” she said.
He smirked at her. But there was a strange look in his eyes as he came nearer. She remembered with a shock that until recently the bed she occupied had been his. She slipped off it and reached for the ring. He dropped it into her hand.
“You didn't answer me earlier.” She set the ring down beside Robin's sealing wax. “Why are you helping me?”
Allan shrugged, wandering further into the camp.
“Are you going to tell Robin I was here?”
“Put in a good word for you, you mean?”
He didn't answer. She started her letter again on a fresh sheet of parchment, watching him out the corner of her eye.
He stopped at Will's bunk and picked up a scrap of wood the carpenter had been working on. Tossing it from hand to hand, he said casually, “So, what's been going on around here?”
Marian had been a spy long enough to know the sound of someone fishing for information, and she didn't hear it now. She thought for a moment while she scratched careful words onto the parchment.
“I have not been here long. I'm not certain they all really want me here. John has been very kind. Much seems … displeased by my presence. Otherwise he is - well, Much.”
“Nothing could change that. Enjoying the squirrel stew, are you?”
“Squirrel?”
“You didn't think he actually has time to hunt or money to buy meat in the villages? You're eating whatever he can trap easily. And what are there plenty of in a forest? Or were, before Much came along.”
He leaned back against the bunks, amused by her horrified expression.
She glared at him and made a point of finishing her letter before she spoke to him again. He moved around the camp, fidgeting with the others' possessions.
“It seems that Will and Djaq have … an understanding,” she said as she blew on the letter to dry the ink.
“Really?” He glanced over his shoulder at her, eyebrows raised. “Will finally made a move?”
“They have been spending a great deal of time off together in the forest.”
He laughed softly. “Didn't think the lad had it in him.”
“And Robin ...” She bent over the sealing wax, heating it above a candle.
Allan had gone still. “What about him?”
“He is ...” Marian shook her head irritably. “Insufferable. He treats me like - like one of his men! Less than that. Like a liability. And he is ...” her voice softened, “more. So much more than I thought, seeing him from the outside.”
Embarrassed by her own confession, she looked round sharply. But if Allan had heard, he was doing a good job of pretending otherwise. He stood with his back to her in the centre of the camp. The restlessness had left him, along with the self-satisfaction. He looked awkward. Uncertain.
“I will tell him you came,” she said, more gently. “And why.”
He didn't acknowledge her. The moment passed and he turned and came over to her, with his usual swagger.
“What have you written?” He peered at the letter curiously. She had no idea whether he could read.
“I have explained to Guy that, with my father gone -” her voice barely shook at all “- the secular world holds no value for me. I wish to devote my life to God, and I am taking holy orders. I wish to be left in peace to follow my religious calling and would be grateful if, in the name of the friendship that was between us, he accept my choice and not attempt to call on me.”
“Sounds good.”
She poured wax onto the folded letter and slipped the ring onto her finger.
“How are things at the castle?”
Allan puffed out his cheeks. “Hopefully better once I give Guy your letter. He's been hard to live with the last few days, I can tell you.”
“Because he misses me or because he's a poor loser?”
Allan tilted his head. “Bit of both.”
He was the only person in the world she could discuss Guy with and not have to guard her words or soothe wounded egos or choose between villifying or defending the man. It was quite a relief.
“The Sheriff?”
“Is the Sheriff. You know.”
“I do.”
She pressed the ring into the wax. “And yet you're going to stay there?”
He took the letter from her and slid it into his belt. “Haven't got any better prospects, have I?”
“Allan ...”
“No, I mean it. A man like me can go far - in the right place, with the right people. It just took me a while to realise that.”
She noticed that he didn't quite meet her eye as he spoke, fussing over brushing the leaves from his clothes instead.
“And you're certain you have chosen the right people?”
“Security, position, wealth, influence … what was Robin offering me?”
She bridled at his bitter tone. “A chance to make the world a better place, to be on the side of justice, to help others - to be a better man. Self-respect. Loyalty -”
He shook his head scornfully. “Can't live on self-respect. Loyalty won't fill your belly or keep you warm at night. He can fight for the poor 'cause he knows there's an end to it for him. This isn't his real life. He does this, feels good about himself, then strolls back into all the privilege and power he was born to. Some of us have to go on without all that. I was never going to be more than an outlaw, no matter how many times I say 'We are Robin Hood'. Now I've got a chance at a decent future.”
“You're wrong. There's so much more to it than that. You're selling him and yourself short.”
“Save it, Marian. I've heard all the noble speeches I can stomach.” And still he wouldn't look at her. “I'd better get back or Guy will wonder why I'm taking so long.”
Marian sighed and said, a little coldly, “Thank you for doing this. Whatever your reasons.”
“Don't let Much bully you into taking over the cooking or anything.”
The return of his flippant tone was almost an apology.
“Perhaps I should take over provisioning the kitchen instead.”
He smiled and headed for the door.
“Allan, wait.”
He turned back and she reached out to brush the leaves from his hair. He looked startled, but let her.
“I really don't want to know how you got that ring,” she said.
“I should take it with me, do something with it so it doesn't look like Robin stole it. If Guy hears the nuns were robbed in the forest he'll assume it was him, and he's not entirely stupid.”
“Robbed?” She raised her eyebrows. “Is that all? I thought you said you were good with nuns.”
“I thought you said you didn't want to know how I got it.”
She smacked his arm, the way she did to Robin when he annoyed her.
“Take care of yourself,” she said.
“You too.”
She thought he really meant it.
He flipped the ring in the air and deftly made it vanish into his clothing. Then he was gone.
Marian returned to the bunk. She knew that she would never again think of it as hers. How strange that she had quit the cold comfort of the castle and now slept in Allan a Dale's bed, while he had abandoned the forest to stay at Guy's side. And how strange that of all these good people it should be the traitor who had changed places with her, the man who had turned his back on all that was right, whom she currently felt to be her closest ally.
She leaned back against Allan's pillow and stared out at the leafy avenues of her new home. The muddled anger that had simmered within her for days felt a little cooler. Allan was angry as well. She wasn't quite sure why, but she had seen it now, hiding underneath his air of good-natured indifference. Neither of them was accustomed to being truthful about their feelings. About who they really were.
Like knows like, a small voice in her head whispered. They couldn't be more different in character, class or morality, but there was a part of both of them that none of these good, honest, straightforward people could quite understand or accept. A part that the cruelty and cynicism of the Sheriff or Guy's brute ambition could barely see, let alone grasp. A part that allowed them to lie and betray and walk the narrow path between sides, and still sleep at night. A part that led her to believe that a day would come when this bunk would be reclaimed by its owner.
Like knows like.
Author: ctquill
Word Count: 1690
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Allan, Marian, mentions others
Genre: Gen, a little bit of angst
Spoilers: For S2
Warnings: None
Disclaimer: Characters owned by BBC and Tiger Aspect.
Notes: Missing scene set during 2x08. Allan returns to collect Marian's letter for Guy. Written for rh_intercomm
Marian sat on her bunk and scratched a quill across a piece of parchment from Robin's hoard. It spluttered ink, blotting what she'd already written. She swore under her breath.
She heard rustling outside the camp. Her hand closed on her knife, but she didn't throw it this time, just waited.
The door swung up. For the second time that day, Allan a Dale stood there. He peered in cautiously, saw that she was still alone, and sauntered into the camp.
“You have it?”
He twirled the ring on the tip of his finger, grinning. She couldn't help but think of a cat that had found the cook's supply of cream.
His hair, so neatly kept since he had entered Guy's employ, had returned to its old tousled state. A few leaves clung to it, and his fine black clothes. His boots were scuffed, his tunic askew.
“I do not want to know how you got that,” she said.
He smirked at her. But there was a strange look in his eyes as he came nearer. She remembered with a shock that until recently the bed she occupied had been his. She slipped off it and reached for the ring. He dropped it into her hand.
“You didn't answer me earlier.” She set the ring down beside Robin's sealing wax. “Why are you helping me?”
Allan shrugged, wandering further into the camp.
“Are you going to tell Robin I was here?”
“Put in a good word for you, you mean?”
He didn't answer. She started her letter again on a fresh sheet of parchment, watching him out the corner of her eye.
He stopped at Will's bunk and picked up a scrap of wood the carpenter had been working on. Tossing it from hand to hand, he said casually, “So, what's been going on around here?”
Marian had been a spy long enough to know the sound of someone fishing for information, and she didn't hear it now. She thought for a moment while she scratched careful words onto the parchment.
“I have not been here long. I'm not certain they all really want me here. John has been very kind. Much seems … displeased by my presence. Otherwise he is - well, Much.”
“Nothing could change that. Enjoying the squirrel stew, are you?”
“Squirrel?”
“You didn't think he actually has time to hunt or money to buy meat in the villages? You're eating whatever he can trap easily. And what are there plenty of in a forest? Or were, before Much came along.”
He leaned back against the bunks, amused by her horrified expression.
She glared at him and made a point of finishing her letter before she spoke to him again. He moved around the camp, fidgeting with the others' possessions.
“It seems that Will and Djaq have … an understanding,” she said as she blew on the letter to dry the ink.
“Really?” He glanced over his shoulder at her, eyebrows raised. “Will finally made a move?”
“They have been spending a great deal of time off together in the forest.”
He laughed softly. “Didn't think the lad had it in him.”
“And Robin ...” She bent over the sealing wax, heating it above a candle.
Allan had gone still. “What about him?”
“He is ...” Marian shook her head irritably. “Insufferable. He treats me like - like one of his men! Less than that. Like a liability. And he is ...” her voice softened, “more. So much more than I thought, seeing him from the outside.”
Embarrassed by her own confession, she looked round sharply. But if Allan had heard, he was doing a good job of pretending otherwise. He stood with his back to her in the centre of the camp. The restlessness had left him, along with the self-satisfaction. He looked awkward. Uncertain.
“I will tell him you came,” she said, more gently. “And why.”
He didn't acknowledge her. The moment passed and he turned and came over to her, with his usual swagger.
“What have you written?” He peered at the letter curiously. She had no idea whether he could read.
“I have explained to Guy that, with my father gone -” her voice barely shook at all “- the secular world holds no value for me. I wish to devote my life to God, and I am taking holy orders. I wish to be left in peace to follow my religious calling and would be grateful if, in the name of the friendship that was between us, he accept my choice and not attempt to call on me.”
“Sounds good.”
She poured wax onto the folded letter and slipped the ring onto her finger.
“How are things at the castle?”
Allan puffed out his cheeks. “Hopefully better once I give Guy your letter. He's been hard to live with the last few days, I can tell you.”
“Because he misses me or because he's a poor loser?”
Allan tilted his head. “Bit of both.”
He was the only person in the world she could discuss Guy with and not have to guard her words or soothe wounded egos or choose between villifying or defending the man. It was quite a relief.
“The Sheriff?”
“Is the Sheriff. You know.”
“I do.”
She pressed the ring into the wax. “And yet you're going to stay there?”
He took the letter from her and slid it into his belt. “Haven't got any better prospects, have I?”
“Allan ...”
“No, I mean it. A man like me can go far - in the right place, with the right people. It just took me a while to realise that.”
She noticed that he didn't quite meet her eye as he spoke, fussing over brushing the leaves from his clothes instead.
“And you're certain you have chosen the right people?”
“Security, position, wealth, influence … what was Robin offering me?”
She bridled at his bitter tone. “A chance to make the world a better place, to be on the side of justice, to help others - to be a better man. Self-respect. Loyalty -”
He shook his head scornfully. “Can't live on self-respect. Loyalty won't fill your belly or keep you warm at night. He can fight for the poor 'cause he knows there's an end to it for him. This isn't his real life. He does this, feels good about himself, then strolls back into all the privilege and power he was born to. Some of us have to go on without all that. I was never going to be more than an outlaw, no matter how many times I say 'We are Robin Hood'. Now I've got a chance at a decent future.”
“You're wrong. There's so much more to it than that. You're selling him and yourself short.”
“Save it, Marian. I've heard all the noble speeches I can stomach.” And still he wouldn't look at her. “I'd better get back or Guy will wonder why I'm taking so long.”
Marian sighed and said, a little coldly, “Thank you for doing this. Whatever your reasons.”
“Don't let Much bully you into taking over the cooking or anything.”
The return of his flippant tone was almost an apology.
“Perhaps I should take over provisioning the kitchen instead.”
He smiled and headed for the door.
“Allan, wait.”
He turned back and she reached out to brush the leaves from his hair. He looked startled, but let her.
“I really don't want to know how you got that ring,” she said.
“I should take it with me, do something with it so it doesn't look like Robin stole it. If Guy hears the nuns were robbed in the forest he'll assume it was him, and he's not entirely stupid.”
“Robbed?” She raised her eyebrows. “Is that all? I thought you said you were good with nuns.”
“I thought you said you didn't want to know how I got it.”
She smacked his arm, the way she did to Robin when he annoyed her.
“Take care of yourself,” she said.
“You too.”
She thought he really meant it.
He flipped the ring in the air and deftly made it vanish into his clothing. Then he was gone.
Marian returned to the bunk. She knew that she would never again think of it as hers. How strange that she had quit the cold comfort of the castle and now slept in Allan a Dale's bed, while he had abandoned the forest to stay at Guy's side. And how strange that of all these good people it should be the traitor who had changed places with her, the man who had turned his back on all that was right, whom she currently felt to be her closest ally.
She leaned back against Allan's pillow and stared out at the leafy avenues of her new home. The muddled anger that had simmered within her for days felt a little cooler. Allan was angry as well. She wasn't quite sure why, but she had seen it now, hiding underneath his air of good-natured indifference. Neither of them was accustomed to being truthful about their feelings. About who they really were.
Like knows like, a small voice in her head whispered. They couldn't be more different in character, class or morality, but there was a part of both of them that none of these good, honest, straightforward people could quite understand or accept. A part that the cruelty and cynicism of the Sheriff or Guy's brute ambition could barely see, let alone grasp. A part that allowed them to lie and betray and walk the narrow path between sides, and still sleep at night. A part that led her to believe that a day would come when this bunk would be reclaimed by its owner.
Like knows like.