Fic: Hope for Healing - Chapter 2
Title: Hope for Healing - Chapter 2
Author: wastingyourgum
Characters: Guy of Gisborne, Sheriff Vaizey, Allan, Much, Will, Djaq, Robin
Mentions: Marian, Little John
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama, Angst
Warnings: None
Words: 1973
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own anything you find familiar.
Notes: Takes place at the start of July, after 2x11. Thank you to jagnikjen and robinfanatic for their very helpful beta reading.
Summary: Guy explains Marian's absence to the sheriff; Allan cleans up the courtyard; Much and the gang try to deal with their loss...
>>>------------------------->
Previous Chapter
>>>------------------------->
CHAPTER 2
Guy was waiting in the Great Hall when the sheriff strolled back in from the execution, humming happily to himself. Allan slouched in shortly after Vaizey and staggered down the stairs, still pale in the face and clearly in shock.
"Allan!" The bark from Guy made Allan's head snap up. "Go make sure everyone is out of the courtyard and the portcullis has been lowered. We don't want any of your old friends trying to hide inside, do we?"
Allan nodded, turned and started trudging up the stairs again without any of his usual cheeky remarks.
Guy was surprised. He'd always got the impression his boy had never much cared for any of his former comrades.
"They'd be fools to try given what we just did to that old brute," Vaizey chuckled as he sat down and helped himself to some fruit. "That should make Hood think twice before trying to get in here again."
"Indeed, my Lord," Guy agreed. He was still looking to where Allan had disappeared with his head hung and shoulders drooped.
"I notice Marian didn't feel the need to join us in today's activities," Vaizey said slowly.
Guy turned to face the sheriff.
Vaizey popped a grape into his mouth and looked at Guy expectantly.
"She is unwell, my Lord," Guy replied. "The maid who took her breakfast this morning reported that she was pale and had a slight fever. She wished to remain in her room for the day."
Even though Guy now knew Marian to be much stronger than he had previously suspected, he could hardly blame her for wishing to be absent from today's events. He still had his doubts about just how sympathetic she was to Hood and his men, but he knew she disapproved of Vaizey's methods regardless of their victim.
"Hmm, remarkable how her illnesses always seem to coincide with my executions," Vaizey sneered as he finished his snack.
Guy kept his expression carefully neutral and didn't answer. The last thing he wanted was for Vaizey to consider what else Marian's past "illnesses" had coincided with. The Nightwatchman was no more - and had last been seen when Marian was in full view - so with luck the sheriff would never make the connection.
Of course, there was also always a chance, however small, that on this occasion she was genuinely ill. Guy vowed to call on her later, just in case.
"Anyway, Gisborne," Vaizey clapped his hands together and stood up sharply. "Shall we go and discuss how we're going to get my Pact back?"
Guy nodded and obediently followed him from the room...
>>>------------------------->
Allan tugged at his collar as he stepped back outside into the bright sunshine. Black might look good, but it was murder to wear when the weather was this warm - and it was still only the start of July; the heat would only get worse throughout the rest of the month and into August.
He stopped at the top of the steps and looked at the servants scrubbing at the gallows platform. The pale pink water splashed off the edges onto the cobbles and ran down towards the gutter at the portcullis. The sight made him suddenly nauseous and he tugged at his collar once more.
An' I thought 'angings were bad enough...
Allan considered for a moment whether he should go find out what they'd done with John's body. There would be nothing of any value on it, he was sure of that, but John was a very visible part of the gang and more than few guards had been on the wrong end of a blow from his quarterstaff. He was torn between making sure the guards didn't do anything to John's body and an overwhelming desire to be as far from it as possible. He wasn't sure how he'd react to seeing it. Granted he hadn't been directly responsible for John's death - the outlaws had chosen to come to the castle themselves - but he'd shown Vaizey how to block most of the ways in and out making it that much harder to get away. Who was to say John might not still be alive if Allan had made some different choices?
An' his wife and kid'll never see him again... Allan frowned as he remembered the cheeky-faced youngster and his sad-eyed mother. Wherever they were, they'd be bound to hear the news eventually from some travelling pedlar; Robin Hood's man Little John had been caught by the Sheriff of Nottingham and had his throat slit like a butchered pig...
No. John had made his choices same as Allan had made his and while John's choices had got him killed, Allan now had position, money and respect. He was going to make sure he kept them.
"Oi! You and you, 'elp me search the courtyard - make sure there's nobody 'iding." He pointed at two of the guards and was reassured to see how quickly they responded to his orders.
Besides, he'd never been that close to the big man. Sure, John had saved his skin a couple of times but Allan had done the same for him and, yes, he'd always been the first one to laugh at Allan's dodgier jokes but they weren't exactly mates. John had just been... someone he knew - someone who wasn't around any more.
And this is why you don't let yourself care, Allan thought. 'Cause then you just feel like crap when they leave or get taken from you...
He took a deep breath.
Like you do now...
He ignored that thought and shoved the pain deep down inside himself, as he always did, then strode off down the steps to start his search...
>>>------------------------->
Much leaned his head back against the alley wall and breathed slowly through his mouth, trying to quell the churning in his stomach. He'd seen so many men die that way in the Holy Land, including some at his own hand - the feel of hot blood as it sprayed across his face still haunted his dreams - but none of those men had made his guts heave in this way. None of them had been bound and powerless to defend themselves. None of them had been friends.
"Much?"
He looked round as he heard Will's voice.
Will kept nervously glancing back out into the street as he shepherded Djaq into the narrow alleyway. Her head was bowed and she seemed to be paying more attention to her feet than to their surroundings.
"Djaq? Are you all right?" Much hesitantly reached out to put his hand on her shoulder and she lifted her head towards him. Her eyes had a strange far-off look as if she was day-dreaming but there was no sign of any tears in them. That look was something Much had also seen too many times.
"I'm fine, thank you, Much," she responded, slowly focusing on him. "We should send somebody to the castle to collect John's things." Her voice was strong but flat and emotionless. She sounded very tired.
"Why don't you and Will go meet with Robin as we planned?" Much suggested. "I'll take care of that."
Djaq nodded distractedly and Will looked at Much gratefully as he put his arm around her and they ducked back out into the bustling street.
Much had to ask a couple of their friends from the town before he found one willing to take the risk of being associated with an outlaw - even a deceased one. One of the townspeople, a more elderly man with no family, eventually agreed and Much waited until he saw him returning from the castle, weighed down by a large sack. Two guards were following him at what they probably thought was a discrete distance but Much spotted them straight away. He ducked round into the next street as the man opened a small window in the back of his house. The man passed the sack out to Much with a brief nod and muttered condolences.
"Thank you." Much gave the man a few coins and peered inside the sack; John's long leather coat, jerkin and boots were instantly recognisable and brought sudden tears to his eyes. Much wiped his face, let out a long shuddering breath then shouldered the burden and headed towards the gates.
He rejoined the others some way outside the town as they'd arranged. At Robin's silent gesture, Much handed over the sack to his former master.
Robin stuck his hand inside and rummaged about. He drew his hand out again holding John's tag that identified him as one of Robin's men and the small piece of polished wood he'd always worn on a leather thong around his neck. Both were still sticky with blood. Robin's lip trembled, and he gripped the small mementos of the large man so tight his knuckles turned white. He put them both on over his own head and still without one word being said, he handed the sack back to Much then turned and headed towards the camp.
Much shouldered the sack again and followed Robin, not really minding the task as it left Will free to continue walking alongside Djaq.
Nobody spoke all the way back to the camp. Much hated the stifling silence but no matter what Allan had said even he could not start a conversation with himself.
When they arrived Much placed the sack carefully on John's bunk, then set about preparing some food. The others also found chores to do and places to look other than the empty bed.
Shortly afterwards Much dished out the meal and the others came over and picked up a bowl and a chunk of bread each. Once they had all helped themselves there was still one bowl and one piece of bread left. There was a horrible moment of stillness as they all stared at them before Much put his bowl down, picked up the spare bowl and redistributed its contents between the other four.
Much sat down and stared miserably at his food - he had never put out an extra bowl by mistake after Allan had left.
It was Robin who eventually broke the silence. "We'll have to redistribute the food parcels for tomorrow's drops."
"We're just going to carry on like nothing's happened?!" Much said, incredulously.
"Yes. That's what John would want," Will said.
Djaq nodded in agreement. "He would want the people to be provided for."
"So we just let them get away with it?" Much seethed. "The sheriff? And Gisborne? They just kill our friend like...like an animal and we do nothing?!"
"No, we don't do nothing, Much!" Robin shouted. "We carry on helping the poor people of Nottingham because that's what John believed in - and we find some way to get the Pact to the king and prove to him that Gisborne and the sheriff are traitors! And then they will pay - for John's death, for Roy, for Edward, for Legrand and for all the others who've died fighting them!"
Much hung his head. "I know," he said quietly. "It's just...it's just not fair - that's all," he sniffed.
Robin sighed, put his bowl down and walked over to Much. He sat beside him and put his arm round him, squeezing his shoulder in sympathy. "No, Much, no it's not. John deserved better."
Djaq suddenly dropped her bowl and ran out of the camp.
Will looked helplessly after her.
"Shouldn't you go after her?" Much asked.
"In a while maybe," Will said. "I'll let her have a moment to herself."
"She knows we don't blame her, doesn't she?" Robin asked him.
"Yes, I think so. Won't stop her blaming herself tho'," Will said. He picked at his food for a few minutes then put it down, still only half-eaten, and headed after Djaq...
>>>------------------------->
Next Chapter
>>>------------------------->
Author: wastingyourgum
Characters: Guy of Gisborne, Sheriff Vaizey, Allan, Much, Will, Djaq, Robin
Mentions: Marian, Little John
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Drama, Angst
Warnings: None
Words: 1973
Disclaimer: BBC & TA own anything you find familiar.
Notes: Takes place at the start of July, after 2x11. Thank you to jagnikjen and robinfanatic for their very helpful beta reading.
Summary: Guy explains Marian's absence to the sheriff; Allan cleans up the courtyard; Much and the gang try to deal with their loss...
>>>------------------------->
Previous Chapter
>>>------------------------->
CHAPTER 2
Guy was waiting in the Great Hall when the sheriff strolled back in from the execution, humming happily to himself. Allan slouched in shortly after Vaizey and staggered down the stairs, still pale in the face and clearly in shock.
"Allan!" The bark from Guy made Allan's head snap up. "Go make sure everyone is out of the courtyard and the portcullis has been lowered. We don't want any of your old friends trying to hide inside, do we?"
Allan nodded, turned and started trudging up the stairs again without any of his usual cheeky remarks.
Guy was surprised. He'd always got the impression his boy had never much cared for any of his former comrades.
"They'd be fools to try given what we just did to that old brute," Vaizey chuckled as he sat down and helped himself to some fruit. "That should make Hood think twice before trying to get in here again."
"Indeed, my Lord," Guy agreed. He was still looking to where Allan had disappeared with his head hung and shoulders drooped.
"I notice Marian didn't feel the need to join us in today's activities," Vaizey said slowly.
Guy turned to face the sheriff.
Vaizey popped a grape into his mouth and looked at Guy expectantly.
"She is unwell, my Lord," Guy replied. "The maid who took her breakfast this morning reported that she was pale and had a slight fever. She wished to remain in her room for the day."
Even though Guy now knew Marian to be much stronger than he had previously suspected, he could hardly blame her for wishing to be absent from today's events. He still had his doubts about just how sympathetic she was to Hood and his men, but he knew she disapproved of Vaizey's methods regardless of their victim.
"Hmm, remarkable how her illnesses always seem to coincide with my executions," Vaizey sneered as he finished his snack.
Guy kept his expression carefully neutral and didn't answer. The last thing he wanted was for Vaizey to consider what else Marian's past "illnesses" had coincided with. The Nightwatchman was no more - and had last been seen when Marian was in full view - so with luck the sheriff would never make the connection.
Of course, there was also always a chance, however small, that on this occasion she was genuinely ill. Guy vowed to call on her later, just in case.
"Anyway, Gisborne," Vaizey clapped his hands together and stood up sharply. "Shall we go and discuss how we're going to get my Pact back?"
Guy nodded and obediently followed him from the room...
>>>------------------------->
Allan tugged at his collar as he stepped back outside into the bright sunshine. Black might look good, but it was murder to wear when the weather was this warm - and it was still only the start of July; the heat would only get worse throughout the rest of the month and into August.
He stopped at the top of the steps and looked at the servants scrubbing at the gallows platform. The pale pink water splashed off the edges onto the cobbles and ran down towards the gutter at the portcullis. The sight made him suddenly nauseous and he tugged at his collar once more.
An' I thought 'angings were bad enough...
Allan considered for a moment whether he should go find out what they'd done with John's body. There would be nothing of any value on it, he was sure of that, but John was a very visible part of the gang and more than few guards had been on the wrong end of a blow from his quarterstaff. He was torn between making sure the guards didn't do anything to John's body and an overwhelming desire to be as far from it as possible. He wasn't sure how he'd react to seeing it. Granted he hadn't been directly responsible for John's death - the outlaws had chosen to come to the castle themselves - but he'd shown Vaizey how to block most of the ways in and out making it that much harder to get away. Who was to say John might not still be alive if Allan had made some different choices?
An' his wife and kid'll never see him again... Allan frowned as he remembered the cheeky-faced youngster and his sad-eyed mother. Wherever they were, they'd be bound to hear the news eventually from some travelling pedlar; Robin Hood's man Little John had been caught by the Sheriff of Nottingham and had his throat slit like a butchered pig...
No. John had made his choices same as Allan had made his and while John's choices had got him killed, Allan now had position, money and respect. He was going to make sure he kept them.
"Oi! You and you, 'elp me search the courtyard - make sure there's nobody 'iding." He pointed at two of the guards and was reassured to see how quickly they responded to his orders.
Besides, he'd never been that close to the big man. Sure, John had saved his skin a couple of times but Allan had done the same for him and, yes, he'd always been the first one to laugh at Allan's dodgier jokes but they weren't exactly mates. John had just been... someone he knew - someone who wasn't around any more.
And this is why you don't let yourself care, Allan thought. 'Cause then you just feel like crap when they leave or get taken from you...
He took a deep breath.
Like you do now...
He ignored that thought and shoved the pain deep down inside himself, as he always did, then strode off down the steps to start his search...
>>>------------------------->
Much leaned his head back against the alley wall and breathed slowly through his mouth, trying to quell the churning in his stomach. He'd seen so many men die that way in the Holy Land, including some at his own hand - the feel of hot blood as it sprayed across his face still haunted his dreams - but none of those men had made his guts heave in this way. None of them had been bound and powerless to defend themselves. None of them had been friends.
"Much?"
He looked round as he heard Will's voice.
Will kept nervously glancing back out into the street as he shepherded Djaq into the narrow alleyway. Her head was bowed and she seemed to be paying more attention to her feet than to their surroundings.
"Djaq? Are you all right?" Much hesitantly reached out to put his hand on her shoulder and she lifted her head towards him. Her eyes had a strange far-off look as if she was day-dreaming but there was no sign of any tears in them. That look was something Much had also seen too many times.
"I'm fine, thank you, Much," she responded, slowly focusing on him. "We should send somebody to the castle to collect John's things." Her voice was strong but flat and emotionless. She sounded very tired.
"Why don't you and Will go meet with Robin as we planned?" Much suggested. "I'll take care of that."
Djaq nodded distractedly and Will looked at Much gratefully as he put his arm around her and they ducked back out into the bustling street.
Much had to ask a couple of their friends from the town before he found one willing to take the risk of being associated with an outlaw - even a deceased one. One of the townspeople, a more elderly man with no family, eventually agreed and Much waited until he saw him returning from the castle, weighed down by a large sack. Two guards were following him at what they probably thought was a discrete distance but Much spotted them straight away. He ducked round into the next street as the man opened a small window in the back of his house. The man passed the sack out to Much with a brief nod and muttered condolences.
"Thank you." Much gave the man a few coins and peered inside the sack; John's long leather coat, jerkin and boots were instantly recognisable and brought sudden tears to his eyes. Much wiped his face, let out a long shuddering breath then shouldered the burden and headed towards the gates.
He rejoined the others some way outside the town as they'd arranged. At Robin's silent gesture, Much handed over the sack to his former master.
Robin stuck his hand inside and rummaged about. He drew his hand out again holding John's tag that identified him as one of Robin's men and the small piece of polished wood he'd always worn on a leather thong around his neck. Both were still sticky with blood. Robin's lip trembled, and he gripped the small mementos of the large man so tight his knuckles turned white. He put them both on over his own head and still without one word being said, he handed the sack back to Much then turned and headed towards the camp.
Much shouldered the sack again and followed Robin, not really minding the task as it left Will free to continue walking alongside Djaq.
Nobody spoke all the way back to the camp. Much hated the stifling silence but no matter what Allan had said even he could not start a conversation with himself.
When they arrived Much placed the sack carefully on John's bunk, then set about preparing some food. The others also found chores to do and places to look other than the empty bed.
Shortly afterwards Much dished out the meal and the others came over and picked up a bowl and a chunk of bread each. Once they had all helped themselves there was still one bowl and one piece of bread left. There was a horrible moment of stillness as they all stared at them before Much put his bowl down, picked up the spare bowl and redistributed its contents between the other four.
Much sat down and stared miserably at his food - he had never put out an extra bowl by mistake after Allan had left.
It was Robin who eventually broke the silence. "We'll have to redistribute the food parcels for tomorrow's drops."
"We're just going to carry on like nothing's happened?!" Much said, incredulously.
"Yes. That's what John would want," Will said.
Djaq nodded in agreement. "He would want the people to be provided for."
"So we just let them get away with it?" Much seethed. "The sheriff? And Gisborne? They just kill our friend like...like an animal and we do nothing?!"
"No, we don't do nothing, Much!" Robin shouted. "We carry on helping the poor people of Nottingham because that's what John believed in - and we find some way to get the Pact to the king and prove to him that Gisborne and the sheriff are traitors! And then they will pay - for John's death, for Roy, for Edward, for Legrand and for all the others who've died fighting them!"
Much hung his head. "I know," he said quietly. "It's just...it's just not fair - that's all," he sniffed.
Robin sighed, put his bowl down and walked over to Much. He sat beside him and put his arm round him, squeezing his shoulder in sympathy. "No, Much, no it's not. John deserved better."
Djaq suddenly dropped her bowl and ran out of the camp.
Will looked helplessly after her.
"Shouldn't you go after her?" Much asked.
"In a while maybe," Will said. "I'll let her have a moment to herself."
"She knows we don't blame her, doesn't she?" Robin asked him.
"Yes, I think so. Won't stop her blaming herself tho'," Will said. He picked at his food for a few minutes then put it down, still only half-eaten, and headed after Djaq...
>>>------------------------->
Next Chapter
>>>------------------------->