Authors Note: I don't own BBC's Robin Hood or any of their characters. Also, be warned there will be major spoilers in this story if you haven't watched to the end of Season 3.

Chapter One

She had to hurry; there wasn't a moment to waste. It was quite possible she was already too late for the man who lay bleeding on the cold hard ground of Nottingham Castle's hidden entrance, and if that were the case she would hold herself accountable until the day she died. He was still breathing, but barely, the pulse point on his neck frighteningly weak. If he survived escaping the castle then there was a good chance he would be strong enough to return from the brink of death.

It would take all her strength to drag him from the spot where he had collapsed and where it was assumed he had died. The others hadn't seen her hiding as they scattered, two sides going in separate directions. She had found the hidden tunnel just as Guy tried to push Robin away from Isabella's dagger. It had taken every ounce of restraint she possessed not to cry out as two swords were mercilessly driven through his body. There was a hope in her mind that perhaps the poison that would claim Robin had not been spent on it's intended target when Isabella cut his throat.

Tears stung her eyes as she pressed herself tightly against a hidden corner, listening to the conversation that followed. There was no way she could save Robin, something she deeply wished she could change. He had been a friend when she had needed one most, and while she wished she could bid him a proper farewell there was no time.

When the Sheriff and Isabella left with their men heading back into the castle, and the one they had called Archer left down the tunnel passing her hiding spot without realizing she was there, the exchange between former enemies caused those silent tears to roll down her cheeks. After years of animosity they were making peace. If she could save them both she would, but there was only the bleak possibility that one would make it through the night.

If her own past hadn't played a part in driving Guy of Gisbourne to look at Marian as his sort of personal savior she might have been jealous of the way he spoke of the other woman. The start of the chain reaction that lead to Marian's death at Guy's hands could easily be traced back to her, and the choices she had made regarding him years earlier. Everything in life was a choice, but sometimes the decisions made by others ultimately brought about the final outcome of the situation.

As Robin ran by she waited only a moment before emerging from her hiding place. Kneeling next to Guy's still form she placed her hand on the pulse point as she leaned in to see if he was indeed still breathing. He was completely unconscious, which would probably be a good thing. The trip would not be easy and would probably be quite painful due to the severity of his wounds. At least they wouldn't have terribly far to go before she could give him a dry safe place to rest.

"You and I have a bit of unfinished business I'm afraid," she whispered, moving behind him and preparing herself for the task of dragging his larger form from the tunnel. "So, you'll have to hold on a bit longer for me."

She moved as quickly as she could, trying not to worry that he didn't even react to any discomfort the action should have brought him. On the battlefield every soldier she had helped had at least groaned once when moved. He was hurt badly and, given the manner of the exchange with Robin, he no longer had the will to continue on. He wanted to be free from the living hell that was life, but she couldn't allow him that yet. It was a frightening combination of circumstances in her mind.

As the opening to the tunnel drew near she felt a surge of adrenaline take over and she was able to move them both a little faster towards their freedom. She had never been so thankful to feel the late afternoon sun on her back as when she stepped out onto the grass outside the tunnel. At that moment though a blast shook the ground and she was thrown backwards with Guy.

Her head crashed against the ground and it was only then that she let go of Guy, who grunted slightly, to her relief, as he tumbled back to the ground again. She gasped for a moment, trying to regain her breath as she lay there next to him. Whatever had happened within the castle walls it had been on an extremely large scale. Aside from the throbbing in her head she was thankfully unhurt. It wouldn't do any good for her to be injured now, it would only mean she would fail the man whose life was in her hands.

Looking up in confusion she could see a large smoke cloud rising over the castle. Someone had blown up the castle, and she was fairly certain this would be the final act Robin would be remembered for in the years that would follow. That didn't matter though now, and she quickly scrambled to her feet, once again checking for Guy's pulse. It was still there, still weak.

"I'll be back in a moment," she told him. "Don't you dare die on me while I'm gone."

It was a whispered command that would have left no room for argument had he been aware of her presence. Rising she ran off to one side towards the brush. A few feet past the boundary a horse munched lazily on underbrush. The brown mare neighed slightly at the sight of her, and she hushed it as she took the reigns and led it back to where Guy lay deathly still.

The mare had been trained to assist her in transporting the wounded, and lay next to Guy's form to make it easier to position him over her back. It was still a bit of a precarious way of getting him to safety, but it would have to do for now. She couldn't drag him the remaining distance to her little camp where she could tend to him and hopefully bring him back from the brink.

She led the horse slowly, taking care that Guy wouldn't slip from her back. Using the landmark of the roadside cave, she turned left off the path going into the woods. No one would believe him to be alive, and no one knew she had returned. They would be quite safe even this short distance from the castle. She had purposely decided to stay just a short trip from the road so she might be aware of all who came and went.

Dragging his still seemingly lifeless body into the tent, she placed him on the sleeping mat she had been using. Lighting a fire under a cauldron of water, she went to work removing his shirt so she might actually get a good look at the wound. The fact that he was still alive told her that the swords had some how managed to miss his lungs and heart. There would still be a considerable amount of damage, but he was strong and hopefully he would fight to return with her assistance.

Both cuts had been clean, no twisting or jagged cuts much to her relief. That would at least make the repair process a bit simpler. Grabbing her pack she set to work. In the years she had been gone from England she had learned a few new tricks in the healing arts, and they would certainly serve her well now. The Holy Land may have been her own personal Hell, but it had also taught her a great deal more then she would have ever hoped to learn in England.

It was dark when she finally finished, sitting back and wiping the sweat from her brow. He had barely flinched through the cleaning and stitching process, and to look at him now one might think they were staring at a corpse. There was, however, the slightest rise and fall of his chest, which she watched intently as his lungs caused the bandages to expand ever so slightly. After cleaning her hands and burning the dirty rags that had been used, she seated herself closer to his head, brushing his hair back from his face with her fingers.

He looked so at peace for once. It had been so many years since she had last seen him looking like this, so quiet and without care. The somber expression was gone, as were the creases in his brow and around his eyes. He looked like the boy she remembered from a simpler time, not the man who had taken his place. This was not the man who had given himself over to the evil plots of a dirty minded Sheriff. She could see the man she had missed terribly now when he was in this quiet state.

"You will probably hate me even more for saving you," she said softly, taking his hand in her own. "I couldn't just leave you to die, not with all that was left unsaid. You don't owe me anything, not even a single word of explanation, but I owe you. I brought you here to this moment. I can't make things completely right again, but I want to try. I can't do that though if you don't fight and hang on. Don't leave this world yet, Guy. You're wrong in thinking there's nothing left for you here."

When he awoke, not if he awoke, he would be completely irate with her for dragging him out the castle. She could nearly hear his voice in her mind and to have that come to pass would be like sweet music to her ears. Holding his hand in her laps, she prepared herself for the long night ahead. The road to recovery, both physical and emotional, would not be an easy one. All she could do was wait and watch over him, the lost guardian angel return home.