Twist The Blade
Summary: Blinded by rage, Robin finally corners Marian's killer.
Disclaimer: Robin Hood and all related characters are of legend—however in the purpose of this, are property of the BBC.
"Where are you?" Robin Hood gritted his teeth.
He had been chasing—well, hunting really; Guy of Gisborne, his sworn enemy and the self-confessed murderer of his beloved Lady Marian for a number of days.
It had been a fruitless pursuit for the most part, and usually begun with Robin following up on leads that locals had seen a suspicious leather-clad man skulking about like a drifter, and ended with the said suspicious character eluding his grasp by mere moments.
Robin Hood was getting sick to death of the cat and mouse act. He had already cleaned his claws, and wanted blood.
In hindsight, he should have known it would all end back here; Sherwood.
The last clue he had picked up led him back to England, and just like a lost dog, Gisborne had found his way back home. Robin couldn't have been happier. It was all going to end here where it all began. It was slotting nicely in to place.
Stalking the woods like a hunter he passed through the trees like he knew every fallen leaf. He had to be prepared. This wasn't going to be exactly how he'd imagined his enemy's downfall, but he'd just have to improvise—he couldn't afford to let him slip away again. This ends here.
Finally, he had everything he needed; his bow and arrow knocked and ready to sink in to that bastard's neck.
And when they came face-to-face after all this time, Robin Hood couldn't say he entirely recognized the man; disheveled, with dirt in his fingernails and in his hair. It was a sight he had ached for for so long. His stopped in his tracks, eyes fixed to the ground, and not looking up from Robin's boots.
Would he even give Robin the satisfaction of meeting the eyes of the man who was to kill him in cold blood like he had Marian?
His fingers tightened. He could so easily let loose an arrow, and ending it once and for all. But he was bothered by his enemy's distinct lack of interest.
"What is wrong with you? I'm going to kill you… right here, right now!"
"I wish you would." He looked up and their eyes locked.
Finally.
Robin felt no remorse—and released the arrow.
Robin didn't know what he was thinking; this was what he wanted wasn't it? But the arrow piercing his targets shoulder said otherwise. His face heated up and his fingers fumbled, knocking another arrow.
"I won't miss this time." Robin bit down painfully on his lip.
The failed shot wasn't entirely disappointing, Robin had managed to elicit some pleasure; seeing the man he most detested in the world, writhing on the floor in pain, trying in vain to wrench out the deeply buried barb.
It brought a tasteless smile to his face to which didn't go unnoticed.
"Do you like this Hood?" Guy struggled to his knees.
Robin's eye twitched.
"What?" He sneered, steering his glance around the weapon he clutched.
If it was Guy's plan to distract Robin enough to get a clean shot—he was succeeding.
"Robin Hood didn't just miss on purpose did he?" Guy snickered, and twisted the shaft jammed in to his shoulder—it wouldn't give.
"If I did… then you should be very worried about where the next one will be going." Robin aimed lower.
Guy was in pain. Great pain, and it wasn't surprising to him that this is what Robin wanted to see; him writhing in agony, begging for mercy. He deserved no less.
Robin said nothing, just bit down on his lip so hard; he tasted his own blood on his tongue. There were not enough words in the English language to describe the hatred he was feeling. Not just for the man in front of him, on his knees where he deserved to be, but he felt no small amount of revulsion to the man behind the bow; the man he had become.
The prey winced, and let out a throaty grunt of discomfort as he pulled the damaging shaft. The gaping wound was quickly covered by leather-gloved hand. He was panting heavily, refusing to look at the damage Robin's arrow had done, he just tossed it to the floor and gripped his bleeding shoulder and kept his eyes low.
The archer felt no victory had been won. He had drawn blood, yes. But gratification would be his this day.
Almost-shy eyes flickered up again to meet his, filling him with regret. Every time he saw those eyes, he was reminded of what he'd done. Of the tremendous pain he'd inflicted on him.
"I loved her too you know." He was smirking. Smirking!
"Shut up!" Robin finally lost composure, and lowered the weapon he held so taut. "You don't know what love is you murderer!" He felt his gut twist and stepped forward as he spat in Guy's face, with all the venom he could muster at the corner of Guy's mouth. "I hate you."
Guy sealed his mouth to prevent Robin's hateful saliva from invading him. He turned his head away in shame. It would have been easier if Hood would just kill him.
Robin spat again, this time hard against his enemy's cheek in a large glob that trailed heavily down and dripped from Guy's chin. It cleared a stripe of dirt with it, leaving Guy's cheek evidence of the suffering he should rightly endure.
Although defeated, Guy of Gisborne carried himself with every scrap of dignity that he could hold on to. Refusing to rise to the bait, and shaking his head.
Robin was disgusted. There was Guy; at his mercy, gaping wound in his shoulder, covered with dirt and Robins spittle, and he was still acting this way. Like he wasn't humiliated. Robin wanted to break him.
"Are you finished?" Guy sneered. Finally turning his head to look at his would-be-killer. "I didn't think you'd go limp quite so soon."
That did it.
Robin lurched forward and felt himself flying fist-first at Guy sending them both over in to a pile of leaves—Robin sat astride Guy. He delivered a hefty thump across the other mans jaw.
"I hate you!" Robin practically screamed, fist crashing down on Guy's leather-bound chest.
"Well, I don't hate you." Guy sobbed.
Robin stopped.
And that was the only opportunity Guy needed to punch Robin in the face and throw him off of him.
Robin spat blood.
"You're pathetic." Robin stood again and squared off once more against his archenemy, who by now, had stood and rubbed his bruised jaw and mirrored Robin's stance.
Guy remained silent. He couldn't argue with that.
Robin couldn't suffer to look at him in such pity and so turned his head to look away. He really hadn't expected this; Guy just waiting and wanting him to kill him. Somewhere in Robin Hood's heart, in the deepest darkest depth's, he had rather hoped Guy would put up some resistance—thus making him feel less guilty about killing.
"It was an accident… Marian." Guy wheezed. Robin clenched his fists. "Not that you'll believe me… we're both looking for someone to blame." Guy shrugged his shoulders, making him loose his tension, and he looked so utterly vulnerable. "We both chose me."
And it was true. Robin did blame Guy for Marian's death, it was him who stuck her like a pig after all. It never crossed his mind that Guy blamed himself. He couldn't conceal the revilement.
"Of course I blame you!" He hissed, like a snake. "You stabbed her… killed her!" Robin swung out his arms in a dramatic fashion. He gripped his own hair with both hands and felt like tearing it out.
"I know. I did. And accident or no; I deserve to die." Guy whispered.
Robin, for whatever reason was finding himself so sick to death of Guy's self-loathing, and was sorely tempted to take a blade to his own throat, just so he wouldn't have to hear any more of his damn misery.
"No." Robin growled, turning his head to meet Guy's eyes with his own, fierce glare.
Guy felt ice in his veins.
"You don't." Robin had turned full force on the other man, and started to converge on him, announcing every step he took with leaves cracking under his fury-filled boots. "You don't deserve the peace of death."
"Marian wouldn't want-" Guy began.
"Don't you dare… Don't you dare tell me how she'd feel!" Robin screamed, interrupting whatever Guy was about to say. He didn't want to hear her name on his lips. "You don't get that right." Robin exhaled heavily.
He'd backed Guy up so much that Guy recoiled, and managed to trip up over his own steps, landing on his back on the dry mud. Robin didn't care—he barely noticed.
"Get out of my sight." Robin turned his back. "I don't want to see or hear you again." Guy stared incredulously; he couldn't believe what he was hearing.
"Do you… do you mean to spare me?" He croaked, still on his back and making no move to get up.
"Yes." Robin quickly added, as if he'd anticipated the question. "Now go before I change my mind."
"But why?" He placed his palms behind him, flat on the ground and pushed himself in to a sitting position—one knee up to his chest, the other leg still stretched out. His hair fell wetly about his eyes and he flicked it to see Robin turn to look at him once more. He looked—something, Guy wasn't sure.
"Because I'm not you." Robin said quietly, but certainly. "I'm not a killer."
That stung.
"No, you're not. You're Robin Hood after all." Guy was pressing his luck, but the sadist in him couldn't resist. "You could never kill me could you, Robin?"
Robin's bottom lip trembled. That question was not so easily anticipated.
"Don't call me that." He looked down, finding it so very hard to watch the quarry he'd hunted for so long—allowed to be free.
He heard leaved rustle, and Guy dusted his lap with his hands as he finally saw sense and hoisted himself off the ground.
"But it's your name, Robin." He tested. "What should I call you if not your own name?" Guy made sense but hearing his name spoken by him was almost worse than hearing him say her name.
"You don't get to call me anything." Robin hissed and turned his back again. "You are dead to me. You are shit." He rasped out, finding it next to disgusting and traitorous to even be conversing with Guy of Gisborne.
Guy nodded. He understood that. Some strange force must have entered his body and took over, because he was feeling empathy with Robin Hood.
Robin on the other hand, felt so dizzy he had to sit—a tree stump had to make do. He buried his face in his hands and shook his head. What is wrong with me? Robin had it set so firmly in to his plan to kill Guy of Gisborne, and it didn't factor in, he couldn't accept that he had just spared his life when after all this time of chasing—all this wasted time, in the end he couldn't do it. He couldn't be a killer and end up like the pitiful husk he was presently in the company of.
"The offer still stands." Guy whispered. Robin hadn't noticed but Guy had s=come to stand directly in front of him. He wanted him to kill him—but Robin wouldn't give him the satisfaction.
"I still hate you."
Robin had looked up, with misty eyes and met Guy's with a look of supreme relief that matched his own.
Guy dared to smile—and Robin let him.