Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Robin Hood.

The nightmare was a fearful thing, borne on the back of a weeklong fever. When he managed to open his eyes it was done in full protest of his own body. He gasped, breath flooded into his lungs so fast it was nearly painful, as if he had forgotten how to breathe. The first thing he noticed was the way the sunlight appeared as a dull gray from the clouds outside. The first thought he could fathom was that he was alive...somehow. He blinked and the blurry mosaic that had been his sleep ridden vision was cleared.

It was daylight.

He was in Locksley.

And he had never felt so ill.

He tried for another breath, this one less painful than the last. The fever had been a terrible thing and the dreams it had concocted even more so, but it was over now, thanks be to God, and everything was back in its place. Everything except his strength. He felt as weak as a newborn pup and very nearly as blind and Sir Guy of Gisborne was not one to accept weakness from anyone, least of all himself.

He groaned as he rolled himself off of sweat-stained bedsheets. He reached out an arm to steady himself against the bedpost. The room swam around him and he buckled and collapsed against the pillows. Well, he could not very well continue to lie here. A servant was likely to come in soon, and he would be damned before he would have some Locksley servant help him to his feet. With another lurching heave, he sat up and—slowly this time—he managed to stand. His nightshirt was tacky with dried sweat, and he could feel his hair was matted and tangled. Guy caught a glimpse of himself in his looking glass. Now there was a handsome visage. On second thought, he should have remained abed and given the would-be servant the fright of her life.

His hair had grown some. How long had he been bed ridden? His skin was sallow and he had lost weight. There were dark circles under his eyes, eyes that were usually a sharp gray-blue, but today looked more to the color of the clouds past his window. He shuddered, one would have such dull looks and dark circles if one had seen what he had in his dreams. Fevers could play such brutal tricks. Guy tried to work the mats and tangles from his hair with his fingers, but it was a pitiful attempt. He needed a wash. He was not decent company for dogs let alone the Sheriff.

"Thornton!" Guy rasped, surprised at how weak his voice was. He cleared it and roared again, staggering away from the mounted mirror and reaching for the door, yanking it open. He shouted again.

The old manservant appeared in the hallway below. "My lord? You are awake."

Guy chuckled bad-temperately. "How clever of you to notice. Have a bath prepared for me, at once."

"Yes, my lord."

"And, Thornton? How long was I abed?"

"It's been a week since this morning, my lord."

A week? That did not give him enough time at all. The Sheriff could already be putting his plan into motion and he had not been there! He was never going to hear the end of it and he was too damn tired to put up with the Sheriff's abuse today.

"Why are you still standing there?" Guy growled, "You have your orders."

"My lord, perhaps it might be best if..."

"Get going, I said!" He did not need to hear the old man prattle on. It was probably something to do with his health, not that Thornton had ever cared, not that anyone had. He wouldn't have been surprised if the whole of Locksley had been praying for his demise. They would have to live with the disappointment. At least they would get half of their wish. Once the Sheriff finalized his plans he would be off to the Holy Land, this time to better success. The very idea of it both thrilled and frightened him, but the nervous energy put some amount of strength in him, enough to keep him on his feet. That sicknesses couldn't have come at a worse time.

A servant came for him once his bath was ready. Guy wasted no time. He stripped, and practically sank into the warm water. Somehow he doubted the Sheriff was expecting him this morning. It was not as if the Sheriff was one to check up on his Master-at-Arms. Guy dunked his head, scrubbing at his hair, sloughing off the remains of his fever. Vaysey wouldn't have gone through with the assassination plot without him, would he? No. Guy doubted that one very much. Vaysey was no assassin. He needed him for that.

A pretty, dark-haired servant girl came into the room carrying a bundle of bath sheets. She kept her eyes firmly set ahead of her as she laid out the sheets atop a stool beside the bath. Her control slipped for half a second and she caught Guy eying her. She blushed. Guy smirked. This one was always blushing at him. She curtsied, mumbled a "m'lord" and scurried from the room. She was always curtsying at him too. Yet, something seemed altogether unusual with the girl this morning. Something had made her a little too fearful. She was pretty, so he stared, but he had not the patience for skittish maids, nor the skill to bed them. Their nervousness seemed to bleed into him. Besides, there was only one woman he desired. Guy leaned back. Marian. Damn the Sheriff's house-arrest order. She might have come to Locksley to see him since he had been so unwell. A dark shudder ran through him. He had need of her presence. His dreams had been all of her and all of them more hellish than the last. It would have been sweet to have woken to her sitting upon a chair at his bedside. Would she be worried for him? A pain hit him in his chest as it always did when he thought of her for too long. Might as well hurry to Nottingham and find out for himself if Marian was so concerned.

Guy rose from the bath, grabbed one of the linen sheets and dried himself. Things between him and Marian had been better than they had ever been. The irony was not lost on him. It had taken the ultimate betrayal for them to reach this understanding. The secret of the Nightwatchman was one that still burned—hotter even than the fever had. It was not so much that she had lied to him, than it was that the lie had nearly gotten her killed. He could not even look at his dagger anymore and he had thoughts as to disposing of it entirely. He had nearly killed Marian. The memory of her lifting her tunic so he could see the mark his curved blade had made on her perfect skin was still a painful one. He would never forgive himself for it, even though he could never have known it had been her stealing from him that night. Marian herself had told him he must forgive himself when they had spoken of it last. He would not though. Maybe in time...maybe once the freshness of this betrayal staled, he could forgive himself.

Something was nagging at him in the back of his mind. Guy could not figure what it was. He dressed quickly, donning trousers, tunic and pulling on his black leather coat. He stared at himself in the looking glass as he buckled the coat. That was an altogether more pleasing image. He still looked haggard, and thin, but it would take far more than a bath and a decent pair of clothes to fix that. Something was still fighting in the back of his mind. He frowned. Something was not right. Guy could not tell what, but a feeling more than an image or a memory left him breathless for a moment. He found himself clinging to the wall for support and when his breath returned he thought he could smell the coppery scent of fresh blood. It was over almost as soon as it began. Guy placed a hand to his forehead. He was still warm. That was it then, the fever had not abated. Best not alert the Sheriff to that fact.

Guy went stalking down the stairs, the spurs on his boots making him sound like a veritable one man army as he made his way from the stairs to the entry hall and out onto the grounds. He ordered a stable lad to ready his horse and sent the young lad away. The boy was always a bit slow, but never completely fearful of him. Today the lad had looked at him as if he had been staring at the very Devil before running from his sight. Had he really been that close to death that everyone trembled at the sight of him? Guy shrugged the notion aside, there was nothing wrong with a healthy dose of fear, so long as it meant respect, and it seemed he was getting more of it in abundance this morning. Every servant had been at attention when he called for them and there were no surly looks passed amongst them as there usually were. He smirked to himself as he waited for his horse to be brought out. So the people of Locksley were finally figuring out that their lord was a man to be reckoned with. Not even death could defeat him that easily.

Guy reeled again as something twisted, sharp as a knife, into his mind. Damn this fever. If he was not able to convince Vaysey he was fully recovered he might lose his place amongst his lord's plans, and he had come too far to have his ambitions be squandered on account of an illness. Vaysey hardly concerned himself with his well being though, maybe he would not notice? Marian would be harder to fool though.

His horse was brought to him and Guy mounted and spurred the horse into a gallop. Did he really want to fool Marian, though? If she was already worried for him this whole week she would want to make sure he was truly recovered. There would be no hiding the remnants of the fever. The idea of Marian caring for him was enough to lessen the sting of appearing feeble and weak before her. He let himself daydream of the possibilities of what she would do once she saw him in his current state. It made the ride to Nottingham feel brief.

Guy rode into the Castle feeling as if he had run all the way there and not his horse. He was hot again and when he dismounted the shock of it was felt from his knees to his skull. A troop of guards were parading past the castle grounds, but they had stopped upon seeing him. As Guy handed his horse off to a stable lass he stared back at the men. "What are you looking at?" he snapped at them, hoping no one noticed he was swaying slightly. "Back to your duties!" Had word spread? My God, what illness had he been struck down with that everyone should look at him so?

He stormed up the Castle steps, knocking a few starry-eyed guards out of his way when they did not move fast enough to his liking. He heaved open the doors and hurried towards the Great Hall. He passed Marian's room as he went and drew strength from her mere presence. He whispered a few inaudible words of love that would have been clumsy and ill-said if she had been with him, but saying the words was a prayer in it of itself. Maybe if he said them enough, even to the thin air, one day she would reciprocate with spoken words of her own. It was a thought, at least. A warm one. One to hopeful burn away what remained of this cursed fever. He would see her later. That would be medicine in abundance. A thing to chase away the memory of the nightmares. Those dark, burning, nightmares...

"My lord Sheriff," Guy announced himself as he strode into the Great Hall. His master sat in his high-backed chair, quill in hand and parchment before him. The Sheriff stopped his work as he looked up to see his protegee coming down the stairs.

"Gisborne," The Sheriff had a curious tone in his voice. He stared long and hard at him as he came up to the table. "You're not dead, I take it?"

"Not nearly," Guy retorted.

"Well..." there was a long pause and a dearth of words Guy suspected were being hidden from him, "Hell is crowded enough as it is." Guy winced at the implication.

"No word on Hood's whereabouts?"

"Pardon, my lord? Don't we have more pressing matters to concern ourselves with other than Hood?"

"What could be more pressing at this moment, Gisborne? Has the fever burned away your brains?"

Guy was direly confused, until his eyes caught sight of two guards at the door. Now he understood. The Sheriff wouldn't want to to discuss his plans for the Holy Land in front of the other men. He had been a fool to not have noticed before. "Apologies, my lord," Guy muttered.

"Spare me," The Sheriff drawled. "Robin Hood has not been seen since our recent return. And thanks to your latest little mistake I'm sure he'll be looking for you." The Sheriff waited a moment, eyeing Guy suspiciously when he received no reaction aside from a nonplussed look. Guy kept his face steely. Was the Sheriff still harping on his defense of Nottingham Castle when Prince John's men had nearly razed it to the ground? Marian had told him he had done well that day. That was all the praise he desired, but Vaysey's insistence on blaming him for all of it was still shaming. But why should Robin be looking for him now versus any other day? Unless somehow the Sheriff was speaking of the Holy Land in a form of code? Guy was too tired to try and interpret the message. He stood quiet as Vaysey continued to berate him and inform him to double his guard around Locksley in case the outlaw and his gang came through. As if Robin Hood would be so stupid as to come running straight into the village. Maybe the Sheriff was trying to cue him into how he wanted to handle the assassination?

The dark and twisting nightmares of his fever began to play again before his eyes as the Sheriff spoke. He felt he would be sick. He felt he was missing something. Something wasn't right.

"...and the Prince is far from pleased. He will need proof of our loyalty, Gisborne, proof we better have in abundance since this...setback."

Proof? Guy nodded. "He'll have his proof, my lord." Once he had the King's blood on his blade, Prince John would have all the proof he could wish for.

"Well he better had. You can start with getting that outlaw's head on a spike."

"Yes, my lord," Guy turned to leave the hall when he swayed brutally on his feet.

"Damn you, Gisborne are you drunk?" Vaysey shouted. "I have no time to deal with your pathetic display. The little leper wasn't worth it. Sober up. If you cannot get a grip, Gisborne, you will find yourself without position. You are dangling over the edge of my patience as it is."

"I am not drunk, my lord," Guy said calmly as he swore mentally. Why would he be drunk? And what did Marian have to do with this? "It is only the..."

"Oh get out. Get out! Drown yourself in a wine barrel or get carried off by the pestilence. If you fail me again, Gisborne you'l have wished you had done one or the other."

Guy left the Great Hall more confused than he had been when he had first woken from his fever. What had gotten into the Sheriff? Was he worried the plan might not work? Was someone on to their scheme? Perhaps his paranoia over Hood was because he knew the outlaw had gotten word of their plan? Even so, it did not explain the comment about his place in Vaysey's household, or maybe he was carrying out his previous threat after he had been seen letting the Nightwatchman escape yet again.

At the thought of the Nightwatchman came Marian. He needed a bit of peace in what looked to be a hellish day. And he needed to see her. The memories of his nightmares were leaving him clouded. He was certain he was nearly trembling by the time he reached her door. He tried to compose himself. Looking like he was feverish was well and good, but he would not collapse the moment she opened the door for him.

He knocked on the door gently. There was no response from inside. He knocked again. "Marian? Marian it's me." Usually that was all that needed to be said. Usually she came and opened the door and for the past few days she had seemed happy to see him and have his company. Had something changed?

"Marian?" He knocked louder. What if his illness had been contagious? What if Marian was ill as well?

Propriety be damned. Guy opened the unlocked door a space. The room was dark. "Marian?" he said in a whisper. She could not possibly be still sleeping at this late hour. "Are you well?" He let the door swing fully open.

The room looked as if it had not been lived in for weeks. But that was surely impossible. There was dust everywhere and the bed was made and the sheets neatly folded. Pillows looked untouched, and the curtains were drawn shut. Guy stood in the doorway staring at the empty room. Had she slipped her guards again? No...no that would not explain the dust, the state of the abandoned room. Marian was a meticulous sort, she would never let dust gather like this. And neither would the castle servants. Guy backed out of the room as if someone was driving him from it. His head began to ache.

Two guards were on patrol and coming towards him. "You there!" Guy called out, stopping the men. "Where is the Lady Marian?"

Why did they gawk at him as if he had grown a second head? "My lord?" one asked, as if not understanding the question.

"I said...where is the Lady Marian? Has she been seen in the Castle today?" Must he always be forced to deal with imbeciles?

"My lord, the Lady Marian...I...that is she has..."

The fumbling guards were proof enough that Marian had slipped past them and they were afraid to admit their failure lest they bring down his wrath. "Nevermind," he spat, "I'll find her myself. Out of my way."

Nothing could ever be easy. He walked down a spiraled flight of steps down to the lower halls. He felt sweat drip down his back. The bones in his legs ached almost as fiercely as his head. Something was not right. All he wanted was some time with her. A few moments, that was all. But no, she must needs be difficult at every turn. Well, once she came back sneaking into the Castle she would think herself rather clever...until she saw how she had run him ragged in search of her. Then she would feel guilt, by Heaven! If he collapsed between now and finding her, perhaps she would stay at his bedside. She might even give him her hand to hold. That would make this worth it. Almost.

A thought occurred to him. Maybe she was in the chapel. He had found her praying there once after her father had died and she had been brought back from her brief stint in the nunnery. He could have almost thanked Robin for that day. If he hadn't taken her up into that tree, he should never have gotten her back. She had ridden back with him and he stayed with her all that day, making sure she felt safe. She had been so frightened, she had even held him while they rode back to Nottingham. He had liked it, not that she had been so frightened, but that she had turned to him for protection. When she had told him she would rather stay with him in the Castle instead of going back to the convent he could have howled for joy. He settled for an embrace instead, and a warmer, sweeter embrace there never was. She practically nestled against him and he could not help but restate that she was safe now. That he was never going to let Hood take her...

Guy nearly fell as the scent of blood filled his senses. The world went blindingly hot for a moment and the ground shifted like desert sand. Somewhere he thought he heard the gentle splashing of a fountain. How absurd. Nottingham Castle had no fountain.

"My lord? My lord, are you well?"

Guy looked down to see the small, old priest who kept the castle chapel. He had been the reason Guy hadn't fallen over. The old man supported him. Guy jerked out of his grasp and straightened, although it caused his head to ache something fierce. Why was the world so god damn hot? It seemed to be melting in places. He thought he saw Marian inside the chapel, but the image wavered like a mirage in the desert.

"I'm looking for the Lady Marian..." Guy said, his words slurring in his mouth.

"My lord, don't you know? Lady Marian has been dead these past few weeks. Disappeared three months back," the priest said.

Guy didn't remember falling. All he felt was the rush of the air and the ground coming up to meet him, only the ground seemed to fall away. Something howled at him. A wolf? A demon? He was certain Hell was racing up towards him. He closed his eyes before the abyss swallowed him up.

When he awoke he was in his chambers. The world was still falling to pieces around him, melting in corners. Hell was coming for him. Guy's eyes widened as he saw Marian sitting in the chair beside him. Pain, fear, and longing filled him at once. He became paralyzed with them and found he could neither move nor speak, only weakly scream in a cravenly whimper that sounded like the whine of a beaten dog.

Marian was clothed in the same white dress she had been wearing that day in Acre. Blood was spilling from a wound in her belly. She was staring at him with loving concern, but dancing behind those dear, bright eyes was a cruel merriment. She hushed him and took his hand. "Isn't this what you wanted, Guy?" she said.

No. No, this wasn't what he wanted. "I'm here now," she whispered, caressing his face. Guy felt as if she was painting him red with her own blood. When she touched him tears came to his eyes because he could not feel her hand upon his skin, and even now, even in the full fear and terror of Hell he needed to feel her. He knew he never would again. Marian touched his tears, her face crumpling into one of mimicking sorrow.

"I was looking for you..." Guy managed to say in a broken whisper.

Marian was licking the tears from her hand. She gave him a shrug and a smile that spoke of love and hate. Hellfire was dancing in her eyes. Guy felt it burning his skin. Marian stroked his hair and took his hand again, patting it like a caring nurse, kissing his fingers like a dutiful lover. "Well here I am. And I won't leave you." She laughed in that gentle way he loved so much. "I won't. Ever."