Also written for the RH Community Forum "Unusual Pairings" Ficathon. I had to mess up the timeline a bit to make it fit so you may want to check the A/N below.
A/N : Set during 3x09, with mentions of events from 3x05 and 3x08. I assumed Isabella stayed in the camp a bit after her "happy family" time with Guy in 3x05. At this point they know she's Gisobrne's sister but she doesn't know that much about her brother (apart that he obviously doesn't particularly enjoy Robin's company ;). Also, the scene in 3x08 where Guy tries to kill Isabella and the one where she drugs him happen in one night.
He watched her, standing tall and proud on Nottingham Castle's stairs, presiding Guy's execution. She could have been a rock for all she moved and all the warmth her posture conveyed. She had power now, security. There was nothing in her demeanour to remind him of the frightened girl Robin had brought to the camp, only a month ago. He let his mind wander back in time.
There had been quite an uproar when Robin had come up with what should have been the newest member of the gang. He could hear it now as clearly as he had then. "Gisborne's sister!" And in their mouth, it sounded just as "the Devil's sister". Only he remained silent. Only to him her brotherhood was indifferent. He had learned the hard way that siblings didn't always follow the same path, good or bad. And he was probably the only one in the gang to whom sharing blood with Gisborne didn't mean you were unredeemable. True Guy wasn't anything of a good person, but during his stay at the castle he'd learned to see past his 'Evil Sheriff's henchman' cover. And if his sister had anything of what he had discovered in her, then it might be worth trying.
She has found him a few days afterwards, cutting arrows in prevision of Robin's latest plan to humiliate and steal from Prince John. He had volunteered for that both tiresome and lonely task, much to everyone's surprise. He needed time alone, time to think about life, about right and wrong, about selfishness, blood links, friendship, trust and betrayal… Those weren't happy thoughts nor things he usually dwelt on a lot, and that was the reason why he needed to be alone with them, to try and tame them, make them arrange themselves so that he would know what to do, how to feel.
He was still struggling a lot when he heard a light footfall and the rustle of a dress on the fallen leaves. He knew it was her then. Kate and Tuck both wore shorter, more practical outfits, and neither had this uncertainty of footsteps that seemed to be Isabella's trademark. He looked up from the arrow he had been trimming with a gentle smile on his face, making a mental note inn favour of blue-eyed brunettes in golden gowns as he did so. However, what she said in response to his smile made him call back that last though quite quickly.
'So, you're Judas aren't you?' she used a half-mocking, half-uncaring tone that made his throat tighten. Hard.
'My name's Allan.' was all the answer he could force through his lips.
She gave him a knowing smile and broke the cold silence that threatened to lengthen between them.
'It's alright, you know. I mean, sometimes you just can't see another way. Maybe there wasn't even one. Don't you think?'
'I dunno. Yeah, I guess so.' Somehow, the muscles in his jaw and throat had started to relax and he could conjure his gentle smile again, in answer to hers.
'Would you mind showing me how to do this', she asked, pointing to the arrow he was still holding. 'Robin didn't give me anything to do and I feel I'm in need of a distraction.' How her smile had turned from simply gentle to slightly tentative without him noticing the transition he didn't know, but it definitely had.
'Sure.' He handed her some untrimmed arrows and his second dagger. He always wore it close to him – for safety. Most of the members of the gang would call it cowardice, he called it self-preservation.
She took both and sat silently next to him.
Though they had started in silence, they ended talking a lot as they worked, of one thing and another, of things that mattered and things that didn't, things they believed in and things they didn't, of great dreams and small wishes, of what was and what wasn't, what should be, what could have been.
'How d'you know anyway? About… me, I mean?' he asked at some point.
'I didn't, not really. I knew there had been a traitor in Robin's gang, but I wasn't sure who. And then there was the way they behave around you sometimes. Like you're in and out at the same time.'
He didn't have anything to reply to that. There was an uneasy silence before she resumed:
'So you knew him, then?'
'Who?' He had perfectly understood who she was talking about but was very inclined to talk about this dark period of his life. Stupidly he had hoped she could mean someone else.
'My brother.'
'Oh, yeah, I guess I did, a bit.' At least he knew him before…well before. Oddly enough he could make himself think it through. Marian hadn't been the first one he had cared for and lost brutally, but somehow her death was different. Perhaps because she had been murdered, perhaps because her murderer was someone she had believed would protect her, perhaps because of the look on Guy's face when he'd realised what he'd just done, or because of Robin's shout of pain, echoing all around the white ruins of Acra, so close to the cry of an animal wounded to death.
'How is he like, then?'
'What? Who?' Isabella's soft voice had suddenly recalled him from the white theatre of a tragedy he had been unable to prevent.
'Guy, my brother.' There was some affection in her voice when she spoke of him, which startled Allan. This was the first time he heard someone speak of Guy that way, with just plain affection, no strings attached. That thought made his answer a bit softer that he had intended, so as not to completely break the good opinion Isabella kept of her older brother. His way of making it up a bit to the man he had –if for the best reasons – betrayed.
'He's not that bad, I guess. I mean, he's done pretty awful things – he paused for a time as the recollection of Guy's numerous evil acts danced in front of his mind's eyes – but I think he regrets them now.' He certainly regretted one of them at least.
She might have sensed his reluctance to go on, because she soon changed for a lighter subject and never brought it back again.
Allan sighted. This had been good times. Robin had found someone to divert him from his grief and he had gained a very fine-looking friend. But since then, things had gone only from bad to worse. Isabella had switched sides and Guy had turned outlaw. Not that it was such a bad thing all in all but it had rocked Allan's world a bit further. Well, this and a little something that had happened not long afterwards.
It had been the night just before Guy had almost-killed an almost-crowned Prince John, involuntarily helping the gang in the process and disappeared soon afterwards. As it happened to him every now and then for more than a year now, Allan couldn't sleep, engrossed with too many contradicting thoughts. And as he often did in such a situation, he had gone for a night walk in Sherwood.
This was how he had found him. Guy. Heading for the outskirts of the forest, seeming unaware of any witness.
Why had he followed him on that strange night? Even now Allan couldn't say. Out of pity for a man obviously unable to tale care of himself in the forest? Out of misplaced sense of duty toward his former master? To make sure the man he had once thought he could have befriended was safe? No matter what the reason had been, the fact was that he had followed Guy, who was now decidedly directing himself towards Locksley. It felt odd to the young outlaw but not enough to make him pause on the thought. He didn't add it to the fact that Guy was carrying his sword. Or maybe he had unconsciously and it wasn't Guy he aimed to protect by following him.
Dang, the man had long strides indeed. And Allan's careful steps meant to avoid detection also made him loose more and more ground on his target. When he finally arrived in Locksley, having definitely lost track on Guy, he went directly to the Manor House and peered through the window, just in time to discover Guy holding a sword to Isabella's neck. He considered alerting the gang, but he knew full well that a quarrel – should it even lead to the death of one party – between the two Gisborne siblings was unlikely to get any attention from them. They hated them both. He liked them both. This seemed to be the story of his life.
Any decision he could have made was taken from him though, as Isabella successfully talked her way out of her brother's murderous track. Had Allan not been so anxious – more for Iz's or Guy's safety he couldn't say – he might have even admired the expertise she displayed.
Seeing that things seemed to calm down, he had made to retreat for the camp, when he saw Isabella, dagger in hand, advancing towards an unconscious Guy.
'No!' he regretted the word as soon as it passed his lips but he couldn't have helped it. He couldn't let Isabella destroy Guy, anymore than the other way around. Family may be the last thing he believed in.
Of course, Isabella had heard him. The good part was, she wasn't threatening Guy's life anymore. The negative part was, his own chances of survival had just dropped significantly.
'Oh so Judas is there too! What happened Allan? Missed your master so much?' Her voice was ice cold and venomous.
He gulped, digging for something to say. In the end his heart spoke of its own accord, not letting the time for his mind to come up with something more fitting.
'You can't do this. He's your brother.'
'He left me to a lifetime of misery for some pieces of silver and won't even apologize for it.' There was anguish now in her voice that made her grip the blade less firm.
'He's your brother.' His felt his own voice quiver as a pair of bright blue eyes flashed in front of his mind's eye, soon replaced by the sight of a body dangling at the end of a rope. He remembered when Robin had asked him why he kept pardoning Tom. He's my brother. Family is family.
'He sold me!' There were tears in her voice now, and she seemed to have forgotten of the weapon she was still holding.
He slowly eased himself through the window.
'Easy, Iz, it's all right.'
'His own sister!' Her voice broke on the last word. Carefully, the one-time traitor went to console the betrayed, gently gathering her in his arms and into a sitting position.
'I know, Iz, I know. I know it hurts.' These weren't mere words of comfort. He had waked to find his horse, sword, money and brother gone; he knew just how much it hurt. Yet he had found it in him to forgive his sibling. If you had a brother who's done something wrong you'd give him a chance to make it up wouldn't you? For family. He doubted Isabella would ever be able to do the same.
She had cried a long time, so long that Allan suspected there was more than just her relationship with Guy in her tears. As if she was just letting go years of restrained emotions.
And during all this time, he wished the time to stop. He wished to keep her safe, surrounded by his arms. He wished he could be the one to save her, the one she'd follow everywhere, that would never ever have her shed one more salty drop of pain. For once, he hoped he could be the one who knew how to comfort, how to talk about feelings, rather than the one who knew every way to evade any emotional talk.
He tried to find the words, the words that would free her, make her smile again. But he didn't found them. So he just held her tight, hoping that his embrace would soothe her.
When he had gone, hours later, he hoped for the best. He hoped Iz would let her brother go, let the past go for good. He hoped she wouldn't let his memory go. He hoped that one day, he'd find the words. The words that would set their world right.
Looking at the cold figure standing proud in from of Nottingham's crowd and remembering the warmth of the lips he had touched only once, he knew he had hoped in vain. Iz – Isabella, had never let it go. The fragile woman he had held that night had died. Only the hard shield that protected her from the world remained, protecting nothing but a void.
He remembered of something she had told him. About shades, shades of grey. There's white, for the saints and black, for the monsters, and in between, a million shades of grey. There's one for everyone.
Silently, in the middle of angry crowd, Allan made a wish. The wish that Isabella's heart hadn't turned black. Just a darker shade of grey.
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