Disclaimer: Don't own, so don't sue. And Happy Halloween!
Damaged Goods
Things weren't going as planned.
This raid was supposed to bring him Robin Hood. Yet it turned out the tree houses weren't hiding a single Merry Man; the inhabitants were simply people who couldn't afford to live in towns anymore.
He recognized their leader as prior Lord of Ruddington, a beautiful town in Rushcliffe that had been, just like this grey man, dying away lately.
Guy knew he wasn't going to find Robin here, but he still insisted on barging into every room, just in case. He smelt smoke and cursed.
Something caught on fire. Things weren't going as planned at all.
Only one treehouse left.
Inside, he found a group of children huddled to a wall with the oldest one coming forth to defend them. Had she been a boy, she'd be out there fighting his men.
"Go. Away," she put a surprising amount of authority into her voice, yet the sight of her pointing a lightweight sword at him was rather comical.
Not responding with a single word, Guy turned and left. This whole attack was a debacle. He was back on his horse in a minute.
Ordering his small troup of men to retreat, he didn't think to look around much. A mistake. The ambush was timed well, just as his men disappeared behind the hill. Or maybe Hood and his friends simply couldn't get there any sooner.
"Burning them down even after you forced them out of their town, eh?!" Robin screamed after he swung down and kicked him off of his horse.
They gave him a good beating.
But didn't kill him, of course. They wouldn't bother having him on their conscience.
He never understood that way of thinking. They knew he was going to come back, more ferocious than ever, satisfying his vengeance on mere villagers until they stopped him again... The longer he lived, the more he killed, and sparing him was allowing all those future murders, wasn't it?
He philosophized as he limped through the forest, no horse, no men, a vague sense of direction and a painful crunch in his ankle...Until he finally lost consciousness.
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Guy of Gisbourne woke up to the scent of woods. He couldn't move his hands but a little. He was half standing half lying against a slanted tree, arms hugging the trunk behind him.
Someone moved his injured foot and he gave a sharp groan.
The person who bound him was now attending to his ankle, creating a splint of sorts and fixing it to his boot.
"What...What are you...You're that girl from the tree house."
"Be quiet," she answered, voice barely above a whisper.
There was silence for a few minutes during which Guy gathered his bearings. Her camp was nowhere in sight, her family or friends neither, not to mention Hood and his men. As much as her ministrations to his injury hurt, she was indeed helping him.
"Why are you doing this? I don't understand," Guy admitted.
She was silent for another while.
"...Me neither," she finally sighed. She talked to herself, murmuring so quietly he had to hold his breath in order to hear her: "You could've killed the children and delivered the worst possible blow to Robin Hood and other rebels."
"You're not the rebels."
"But we're under his protection, as you could see."
She stood up. He knew that face from somewhere. Ruddington's daughter, if his memory served well. Very beautiful then. Skin dirty and hair worthy of a wild child now.
"I fancy myself good with a sword for a girl but I'm sure you would've killed me and everyone else in seconds. Hood would have nightmares for months."
"I don't kill children."
"You don't?" She raised an eyebrow.
He must've only seen her before, they probably weren't even introduced – otherwise, he'd remember her for her silent and sarcastically low voice more so than for her pretty face. Or was the voice new? He never heard anything like it coming from a woman's mouth. He didn't know what to think of it.
"I try not to."
"So you torture and kill adults, both men and women, you steal from families and leave them to starve...But you don't kill children?"
This also wasn't like any talking he'd done with a woman before. And she wasn't even a woman yet!
"Some of those adults you killed were just as innocent as a newborn baby, so what's the difference, really?"
"No adult is that innocent. At least none of those I've killed."
"Judged by whom, you?"
"I'm bleeding far too much to have this conversation. There's a deep cut in my arm that I need to redress. Untie me...Please."
"No. Tending to that wound was the first thing I did before tying you up."
"I'm parched. Do you have any water...?"
She gave him a suspicious glare. Slowly, warily, she approached him at an angle she couldn't be kicked from. Yet the way she lifted her water bag to his lips was almost gentle, her nurturing instinct showing.
He hissed in pain after a large swallow and she jumped away like a coy animal.
"Sorry... I think there's something wrong with my ribs."
She examined his face for another minute before pulling out more rope and tying his legs to the tree, just below his knees.
"Should've been quiet, huh," Guy remarked bitterly, but then she hovered over his chest, opening the buttons of his leather jacket. With difficulty, he might add – he chuckled and she rolled her eyes when his amusement turned into a pained grimace as his ribs responded.
"Oh, cold," Guy gasped once her hands found his skin.
She answered with two risen eyebrows. She breathed on her hands and rubbed them together, then inspected his torso.
"Could be a cracked rib, but there's nothing I can do about that."
Guy nodded.
"At least there's no bleeding."
At that moment, when her work was done, the girl grew impatient.
"I would appreciate it very much if you lost consciousness again so I could untie you," she murmured as she fastened his jacket.
Guy smiled.
"There's no need for that. I promise not to hurt you."
He was met with only more suspicion.
"You have my word."
Nothing changed about her narrowed eyes.
"I'll fetch some water and food for your way back to Nottingham. I'm confident I'll find you asleep by the time I get back. Sleep heals, after all."
She left without another word.
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Two hours later, when she came back with some supplies, she dropped them and jumped good five feet back the moment she saw Guy free of his binds.
"Surprise," he gave her what he hoped looked like a friendly smile.
Immediately, she started walking backwards.
"Don't be afraid..."
"You think I'm stupid?" she accused him.
For the first time, including the moment in the tree house, Guy could hear real emotion in her voice. Fear.
"You think I don't know what men with eyes like yours do to women when they're alone in the woods?"
With that she ran away.
The smile fell from his lips.
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Guy got thrown into jail by the Sheriff. Only for a day or two, to regain some discipline after letting the Night Watchman slip between his fingers on his very execution day. Had the Sheriff known the truth, Guy would be hanging by now.
Marian. His innocent Marian was the Night Watchman. The very person he almost killed a year ago. Robin Hood's collaborator. A traitor. And yet all she needed to do was give him those pleading eyes and he put his neck on the line for her, time and time again.
Contrary to popular belief, Guy knew when he was being used. Both by the Sheriff and by Marian. What he didn't know, what he couldn't possibly imagine, was how to escape those toxic relationships.
Without Marian, he would be nobody.
Without the Sheriff, he would be nothing at all.
Someone joined him in the next cell. A child they caught stealing in an apothecary. A young woman, actually. No...Yes. It was the girl who patched him up a month ago.
"Aww, look at her. Beneath all that dirt she's kinda pretty."
Guy felt shame for whom he employed in the castle when the second guard only agreed with the notion and let the first man enter the cell.
"Seriously," she growled as if there was an inside joke unfolding before her eyes.
The guard closed in on her.
"Don't even think about it," Guy boomed from his cell, "unless you want me to skin you alive come tomorrow."
"Shut up! I always hated your fucking guts! Me and Ackley are gonna mess you up real good after we're finished with her and get the hell out of here; what do you say, Ackley?"
"This place stinks," the second guard shrugged. "The whole Nottingham stinks. Ay, I say."
Ruddington's daughter chose the moment to break the first guard's nose. He slapped her so hard the sound made Guy wince.
"Guaaaards!" he roared, hoping to attract some more sensible men to the dungeon.
"She's a fighter, come help me with her, Ackley."
Ackley moved along the bars that separated Guy's cell from the girl's and that he shouldn't have done, for Guy's arms were long and quick and practiced to put just about anyone in a chokehold. He held the spineless guard long enough for him to pass out, and yelled out for someone again...in vain.
Watching her struggle with the rapist, Guy had to admit that a fighter she was. However, the guard lost his patience very early and stopped caring about her state of consciousness, throwing her head against the stone floor so roughly her body went limp.
"Wake up!" Guy screamed, he saw her eyes rolling around, trying to open, but the man had already bunched up her skirt and cursed the fact that she was wearing pants underneath. Just as he pulled out a knife to cut at the garment, the girl woke up and...
Killed him.
Guy watched as she twisted his hand, stole the knife and without a second of a doubt, thrusted it into his neck one – two – three – four times. He wondered if she had ever killed before until he saw the shock on her face.
"Why me, huh? Why does it always have to be me," she talked to the body. Her voice wasn't low and sarcastic now, and it sounded so young; well, so age-appropriate. She stumbled to her feet and washed the blood off of herself in the guards' basin. There was a metal shield on a wall that doubled as a mirror.
Suddenly, she froze as if hypnotized by her own reflection. Slowly, the knife in her hand lifted to her face.
"Don't," Guy realized what she was thinking. "Don't do it."
"Why not? When not even dirt can hide a pretty face..."
"Because...Because you need all your strength to escape. And the blood would only attract attention."
"You're right," she snapped out of her reverence. "Not the time, nor the place."
She then stood in front of their cells in another moment of silence. Guy wondered what decision she was contemplating now, when in three seconds and not a second more, she tore the jail keys out her cell lock, threw them to Guy, and ran off.
She never was one for ceremonious goodbyes, was she.
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Three more weeks passed before he saw her again.
The late Lord of Ruddington came pleading to the Sheriff, his daughter and two more nobles accompanying him.
Guy could see she cleaned up, donned a dark blue dress and combed her hair out of her face. It was therefore impossible to oversee two thin scars, one running through her eyebrow and one cutting into her upper lip. Certainly all her doing, careful and clean with as thin a blade as possible so that it would heal fast and not affect her mimicry much.
Guy surprised himself when he still found her beautiful.
She was damaged goods. Just like him.
A kindred spirit, maybe? He used to think of Marian in those terms, and oh how wrong he was.
"You have to agree that when I had Ruddington, you were getting at least some of the taxes," her father went on.
"He's right, the new Lord is an imbecile. One more month and Ruddington will run out of people for exemplary executions," the Sheriff rumbled to Guy as if consulting him. Might as well use the chance to slip him his spontaneous idea. Surprisingly, the Sheriff agreed.
"Alright then, I'll make you the Lord again. What's with the surprise? Ooh, you were a sympathizer to Robin Hood after all. Don't worry, I won't have you hanged, not just yet. I will use you against him. Go back to Ruddington, but keep this little dove here as leverage."
"My daughter? You want to take my daughter under house arrest?" Ruddington hesitated. "For how long?"
"I don't know, a year? Whatever. And she won't be another mouth to feed, we've got lots of those, she'll be one of the servants."
"But my Lord...I don't think my daughter is fit for that, she, she's been brought up as a noble and...She's been mute for over a year now."
"Even better! She'll serve under Guy. You wouldn't doubt this gentleman's honor, would you? She'll be in good hands. Chop chop, get going!"
Guy and the girl exchanged a long gaze. He knew her father was lying. She knew she wasn't going to be kept here only for leverage. The look they gave each other could set the castle on fire.
"You should be kissing my feet, Gisbourne. I expect to hear less whining now that I got you this mute playtoy. And learn some jokes for devil's sake, I'm dying of boredom here."
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"Your name?" He asked when he showed her the room adjacent to his chambers; the room she was going to live in.
"Leigh," her voice was lowered in both volume and tone, just like he remembered it.
"I think I like the mute pretense you and your father came up with. Keep it up. Talk only to me."
"I won't let you have me," she informed him out of the blue. "You know I can be really mean to anyone who tries."
Guy pierced her with his eyes.
"We'll see in a year," he said slowly in a voice that always worked with the ladies.
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The battle of wills grew into something completely and utterly unexpected.
Friendship.
For they were kindred souls, in a way. He could talk to her like he never did to a woman. About things you only discuss among friends, and things he'd never say without a tankard in hand, or things that were either too trivial or too threatening to his tough image so he didn't share them with anyone.
It was her voice and the way she spoke of unlady-like topics that made him think of her as a friend instead of a conquest. Having read her father's books since an early age made her a scholar of sorts; being a woman gave her knowledge a whole new point of view; and her Sherwood experience took away all possible naivity. Guy liked conversing with her.
Other times, he did see her as a woman. He had been known for seducing the female staff, it was a thing he still had on mind when he saw her in her plain servant clothes. Whenever she caught him looking at her like that, she backed out of the room, shying away from those eyes that scared her.
Guy couldn't understand how someone so close to him could be so scared of him at the same time.
During the first month, he managed to steal a kiss or two from her.
The first time, she fought him off and didn't talk to him for two days.
A couple of weeks later, when she was patching up another set of injuries he got from Robin Hood, he tried to kiss her again. She froze up and gasped, too worried about his condition to defend herself, but he knew when he was not welcome.
The third time around, they were just laughing at something when he brushed his lips against her cheek. She shivered like a leaf in the wind and changed the topic.
He couldn't get to her. Yet again, he failed to manage something as basic as genuine human connection.
She said it wouldn't change anything had their bodies become intimate, in fact, she claimed things would get worse. Guy didn't believe that. One could be friends and lovers at the same time, right? Otherwise Guy's life-long yearning for this ultimate kind of a companion would be hopeless.
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It was almost not dark anymore when the Nottingham celebrations ended. Guy was forced to stay till the very last guest left. Dead on his feet, he found his way to the chambers and knocked a few objects over until he woke Leigh up.
She helped him open the cuffs he pronounced broken and as she sat there on his bed, he laid his head down in her lap. She let him; she probably didn't think him a threat in his drunk and tired state.
"You have no idea what you're missing," he grunted. "Every maid I've bedded thought me in love with her, that's how gentle a lover I am."
She chuckled.
"Don't forget, I was brought up a noble, not a maid."
"Of course," Guy trailed off. He played with tresses of her hair for a bit before reaching to trace the scars on her face.
Her eyes widened and she trembled at the contact.
"You still shiver in fear when I touch you," he observed with drunken self-pity.
"Not always in fear," she whispered.
"Not always...? Not always, Leigh?"
"It's when you look at me with those eyes that I...I can't, I just can't..."
"My eyes, huh..."
"I've met men with those eyes before. They betrayed...They..."
"They hurt you, I know." He knew exactly what kind of hurt they inflicted on her.
He wished he could do something about it. He wished he could find those men. But the only people present were him and her.
"You think if I was better..." He was thinking out loud. "If I was better, would my eyes be bearable to look at?"
She shook her head and smiled. Drunk Guy amused her.
"I don't know."
"They are windows to the soul, you know."
Leigh just raked her fingers through his hair. It made him want to fall asleep right then.
"And what about this?" Guy covered his eyes with one long-fingered hand.
The sound of her breathing gave away that she was chuckling again.
Just before he fell asleep, he felt lips on his lips.
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Maid Marian was hanged on an early morning with the air so cold and crisp it made Guy's tears sting in his face.
In the process of saving Robin Hood, she had revealed herself as the Night Watchman to all Black Knights including the Sheriff of Nottingham. There was nothing Guy could do to save her this time. He knew it; she knew it; yet she still tried to manipulate him into running away with her, feeding him sweet lies and pleading doe eyes and vulnerable sobs until her very last breath.
The face she gave him before the loop went around her neck said it all: She was blaming him for her execution. Don't you worry, Marian. I feel guilty enough by myself.
She left him a note with her last wish: That he at least finds a way to kill the Sheriff without Prince John laying waste to Nottingham. Sweet Marian, trying to make him her marionette even from the grave.
By noon, Guy was drunk beyond recognition.
By three o'clock, he was daring the castle guards to fight him when they tried to stop him from demolishing his own rooms.
By vesper time, he woke up in someone's lap. There were fingers in his hair, stroking softly. He was in Leigh's chamber. She didn't say a thing until he asked her what happened.
"I was here while you were working on your bedroom. Once you were finished, you came over."
"Did I hurt you?"
"No. But you were still very upset."
"Maybe I should get you that lock you've been asking for."
"You just...yelled a little."
"Nothing else?"
"And then you let me hold you."
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Every once in a while, the Sheriff visited him in his chambers, which was always annoying.
"Ah, Gisbourne! I decided to have some massage bonding time while we discuss Count Frederick's arrival."
The Sheriff marched into his room with one of his female servants, made himself comfortable in Guy's favourite chair, and took his shirt off. As long as Guy remembered, Sheriff Vaisey liked to combine important meetings with private activities like this. Somehow, showing that no degree of nudity or ungueardedness intimidated him was intimidating to others.
And so they found themselves both topless and getting oil rubbed into their skin by two beautiful girls.
"Is Miss Leverage to your liking by the way?" The Sheriff recognized his maid's scarred face. "I haven't really seen her around the castle, are you keeping her tied to the bed or something?"
"Yes, something like that," Guy answered smugly while her fingers stiffened. She was smart, she would know the lie was for her protection.
"You are keeping an eye on her, Guy. I don't need any more leper girls sneaking out of the castle to spill our plans to Robin Hood."
"Do not worry, sir. The bed and rope you mentioned isn't far from the truth. Her days and nights are fully preoccupied."
That was a lie as well, of course.
The mere idea of Leigh going behind his back to Robin Hood out of all people made his insides twist.
God, please, not again.
When the Sheriff left, Leigh continued the massage in silence.
Dark thoughts prevented him from enjoying her touch. He caught her hand as it skimmed across his collarbone.
"Will you betray me one day? Tell me now."
She sighed.
"How the hell should I know that?"
The answer didn't satisfy him at all. He pulled her around the chair and landed her in his lap so he could see her face. She didn't seem scared of his warning glare. Funny: Threatening didn't do a thing to her while one look of want made her panic.
"It depends, I guess. Will you try to do something terrible in the future? I'd probably try to stop you then. Would you expect anything different?"
He frowned in thought, looking for similarities between her and Marian.
"Are you trying to be my conscience?"
"Not really. My own conscience is more than enough for me, thank you very much."
Was there really no deceit between them? He was keeping her in the castle against her will. Could it be possible that she wasn't using him in return? Guy was afraid that the moment he'd start trusting her everything would turn around on him.
He caught her staring at his chest. Oh yes, that was quite some proximity they were in, with him topless and her side-saddling him and all. Guy must've gotten that look in his eyes because Leigh squirmed in her attempt to get off.
"No, stay," he said on a breath and closed his eyes, perhaps that would make it better. He laid back in his chair, going through what was just said.
A warm touch brushed one of the scars on his pectoral.
"What are you-" he asked but his eyes were covered with two small hands before he even lifted his head.
"Just trying something. Please don't be mad if it doesn't work?"
She asked for a permission, she had it.
She kissed him. Veeery carefully. It was basically just a light touch of her lips on his, then with a little more pressure, then with a tiny bit of a twist before she moved away.
He wanted more. He let her know as much as he could without scaring her off – he groaned vulnerably. Her hands keeping him in place, she kissed him again, and a third time, too.
He used the moment she was rearranging herself to straddle him comfortably to take a peak. What a lovely position. His hands did their best to appear encouraging but not stifling on the small of her back and her thigh, which were covered in layers of skirt and pants anyway.
The second she noticed him looking, his eyes snapped shut.
He could hear her smile before she kissed his eyelids. Their next kiss was without her hands in the way, but who cared when both had their eyes were closed.
It became deliciously deep, to Guy's surprise.
"You're very good at this," he murmured.
"I used to love kissing," she looked away as he inspected her.
She decided to distract herself by kissing down his jaw and neck.
"Kissing's all right, I think I have the least of problems with it."
Rushed by a wave of arousal, Guy squeezed her closer and practically plastered her body against his. Unconsciously proving her point, Leigh froze. Guy decided to show off his own technique and slowly coaxed her into another passionate kiss.
Soon they were drowning in each other's breaths and moans. Guy's fingers couldn't help themselves from fondling whatever was in reach, but it wasn't until he picked her up and moved her to his bed that she resisted.
"It'll be fine," he assured her.
"No," she told him with a serious frown (very much unlike women who play hard to get).
"I'll only go as far as you let me," he slowly crawled towards her.
"You most probably won't."
"I swear, Leigh," he stopped in front of her, eyes boring into hers and thank God, there must've been something in them that didn't frighten her. "Give me the rules, draw the line and I swear I will not cross it."
Silence.
Then...
"Clothes stay on."
"All of them?"
He was only in his trousers whereas she was fully clothed.
"You won't restrain my hands, hold me still, pry my – my legs open..."
"Never."
"And you kiss me a lot."
"Yes, my lady," Guy smiled.
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The next day, as he was walking through a hallway, she passed by him with a basket of laundry and a small smile.
Last night was wonderful. Torturous, in a way, especially when she insisted upon kissing down his chest and stomach but not even touching him thereunder. Yet despite the lack of below-the-waist action, it was the most intimate he had been with anyone in...ever.
Finding the hallway empty aside from the two of them, Guy decided to indulge in his weakness a little. He caught Leigh's forearm and spun them into a dead-end side corridor.
It took her a while to calm down and take in his cheeky smile. She seemed uncomfortable with her back against the wall, so he switched their positions and scooped her up a little to be level with his tall frame. He was rewarded by a beautiful snogging session. Good God, he loved her hands in his hair. Among other things.
"I'd love to make this a habit," he probed.
She didn't respond.
He tested the waters by kissing her neck.
She pulled him a little closer.
Guy prayed to God that that was her giving him an answer.
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How long had it been? How long since he began to despise his only father figure? It must've been years. Guy just didn't want to face it.
It was during another big dinner with the town's richest that he realized how everything about Vaisey repulsed him. The sheriff duties and politics aside, he was still a despicable man. Like now, when he was entertaining himself by mentally torturing those dependent upon his favor.
Luckilly for Guy, he was released from the representing duties this night, so he could sneak out with a flagon of wine and a flagon of mead, intent on finding out whichever Leigh liked better.
She managed to brighten his mood within minutes even though her sense of humor was bitter, dark and rough. At some point he even found himself laughing so much it hurt. Her impression of Vaisey's lah-di-dah-di-dah was hilarious.
She loved the mead – all of it. She could barely feel the spirit in it.
The night ended in his bed. Kisses grew intense, touches found their way under clothes, breathing got heavy with desire. From what he could remember, he asked her if she wanted to stop there.
„Not tonight," she moaned.
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He woke up first. Morning light gave him the wonderful opportunity to see what the duvet showed of her naked body.
At that moment, he knew he was going to marry her.
The Sheriff might be a problem, though.
She woke up hung over. Grumbling about a headache, she needed a while to realize which bed she was in.
She gasped.
She turned around to see Guy.
Her eyes slid down to the duvet at his naked hips.
She froze.
"Please don't stop breathing," he frowned.
On the contrary, her breathing grew extremely quick.
"We – we...We did...?"
"You don't remember?" Guy was disappointed.
"No, I remember – the mead, the jokes...The kissing, and then..."
For a second, she looked at the outline of her legs and then moved her eyes up to the vee of her thighs, the same way his mouth traveled last night.
"Then nothing," she blushed.
It took everything he had in him to suppress a smug smile.
"I can help you remember," he lowered his voice into a seductive tone. Her pupils went wide. He was probably doing that thing with his eyes again.
"Tell me," she whispered.
"We kissed, and kissed, and kissed..." He crawled closer with every word. "I offered to stop there, but you said..."
"Not tonight," she remembered. "I was drunk," she sobbed.
"Please, believe me when I say I didn't get you drunk so that I could steal your virtue. I swear, Leigh," Guy said seriously.
"You know there was none to steal," she breathed. "I just didn't think I would..."
"...Say yes to me?"
"Say yes...ever...Did it hurt?"
"No!" Guy flinched.
"Liar."
"Leigh...It only hurts the first time."
Her mother died when she was still a baby, Guy remembered. Her father probably didn't tell her what she needed to be told. She inspected the bed for blood and found none.
"I didn't hurt you," Guy rasped, "I'd like to think that you rather enjoyed it."
He crawled over to her carefully, watching out for her reaction.
"I kissed up your calves," he bit down on the duvet and tugged it off her legs. "And higher," his breath tickled her knees. "And higher..."
She secured the bed cover to her lap prudishly when he hovered over it.
"I touched your bosom, and you asked me to keep going..."
With her other hand, she pressed the duvet to her chest. But other than that, she was just watching him with wide eyes, silently encouraging him to continue.
"You helped me take off your clothes, you helped me take off mine..." Guy kissed the hand that was held against her heart. "I told you how much in love with you I am..." The kisses followed up to her clavicle, then her shoulder. "We made love..." The curve of her neck, her lower jaw. "And then we fell asleep." He finished with a kiss to her throbbing temple.
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A thousand emotions surged through Guy of Gisbourne when he killed the Black Sheriff.
Satisfaction, vengeance, victory.
Blame, betrayal, sickness to his stomach.
Pity, sadness, bitterness.
Relief. (Just like with Marian, even though he never wanted to admit it. Another toxic chapter of his life was over.)
Pride. (His timing fit perfectly in Prince John's love & loyalty game. Guy of Gisbourne was going to be the new Sheriff of Nottingham.)
Angst. (He wanted to be a good Sheriff, review the castle finances and fix the tax system, support the market and growth in general... But he knew he wouldn't last long under Prince John's charge. The best he could do was be the lesser evil. He could secretly cooperate with Robin Hood, actually. Help Nottinghamshire survive until King Richard returned. And then probably be cast off for his previous crimes, but he was at peace with that.)
Confidence. (He used to think he needed someone like Marian to purify him in order for him to change. But Marian wasn't pure and innocent. And Leigh wasn't pushing him anywhere. Her presence merely encouraged him to change by himself. This was all his doing, in a way.)
Hope. (He's going to propose now. Let's give them some privacy and leave the story here.)
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