Title: Caught In Your Way
Rating: K+
Summary: Robin and Guy find that keeping Archer out of trouble is a full-time job. Forget brothers, it's like being parents.
Author's Note: Takes place after the series finale. Blatantly ignores most characters' deaths.
Written for the Gift Exchange Ficathon on the Robin Hood Fan Community.
Caught In Your Way
(~)
"London? You are jesting. Please tell me you are jesting."
A small shrug. "I am jesting."
"Guy."
"What do you want me to say?" Guy raked a hand through his longish dark hair. "It is what Daniel told me."
Against his better judgment, Robin allowed himself to be distracted by that information. "Daniel? Daniel spoke to you about confidential matters?"
Ever since Robin's gang had gifted Daniel and his friends with their distinctive tags, the children had been eager to help, occasionally sneaking into the forest and feeding various gang members snippets of information—usually useless ones, but at times at least of some importance. Robin hadn't seen the boys in two full moons. The destruction of Nottingham had not just been hard on the residents of the town, but on the people of the surrounding villages as well. The new Sheriff was barely more tolerable than Vaisey, and the people worked long and hard to pay their taxes and rebuild their homes. Many were still homeless.
"Are we going to discuss this now?"
Robin pinched the bridge of his nose. "No. You are right, we have more pressing concerns." He glanced at Guy. "Have you ever been to London before?"
"Once, yes." The words accompanying the Sheriff were left unspoken.
"I take it you did not get a chance to inspect their dungeons?"
A snort.
No, Robin didn't think so either. For some reason, he couldn't bring himself to say there was more fun in making up plans as they went along. Perhaps he had outgrown that childish conviction. Or perhaps he had grown so used to breaking his men out of prison he no longer considered rescue attempts a laughing matter.
.
.
The journey was long and uneventful.
Much had offered to come along, naturally, and so had Little John. Robin and Guy had declined their offers, told them to look after the people in their absence. Neither of them mentioned their chances of getting in undetected would be higher with just the two of them. For reasons beyond Robin, or perhaps he just did not wish to think about them, he and Guy worked well together. They understood each other in ways the others couldn't possibly comprehend. Both had seen—committed—unspeakable evils. They had loved and lost, fought and lost, struggled with life… and lost.
"I did not know you and Daniel were on speaking terms." Robin kept his tone neutral, unassuming.
Guy grunted, but said nothing.
"He sees you as a member of the gang?"
Did people see him that way? Did Robin?
"Probably not."
Robin considered that for a moment, then said, "He must, begrudgingly or not, otherwise he would not have spoken to you."
When Guy chose not to answer again, Robin let the matter rest. Guy was uncomfortable around the people he used to lord it over, would be for some time to come. But Daniel's gesture could be a sign of things to come—of acceptance, from the people, but perhaps from others as well, Robin himself included.
It might be time to hand Guy his tag.
.
.
All the tables in the tavern were filled. Voices, some more domineering than others, surrounded them, snippets of conversation drifting their way. No one paid them any heed, and they were careful to keep it that way. Nursing their drinks, they kept their heads down, the heat of the fire warming their bones and reddening their faces.
It had been a long and cold day.
"He was not supposed to go to London," Robin said, voicing what had been troubling him since Guy told him of Archer's latest troubles. "He told us he was going to Northampton."
Guy took a sip of his drink. "It's roughly in the same direction."
"Guy."
Placatingly spreading his hands, Guy offered him a faint smile. "I don't know any more than you do. All I know is he's in trouble."
"Again."
"Again," Guy agreed. "One would almost say you two are related."
Robin looked down at his drink. "I still wonder where you picked up a sense of humour, Gisborne. Granted, it's a dreadful one." He shook his head. "Perhaps you spend too much time with Archer."
"Or perhaps we spent too much time killing each other to get to know each other's sense of humour. Are you getting emotional, Hood?"
"Careful," Robin hissed, casting a quick glance about him. Fortunately, no one seemed to have heard Gisborne's last comment. Even if they had, though, he had to wonder if he was as widely known as Tuck liked to tell him.
"I was wrong." Guy put his empty jug on the table and wiped his mouth.
"About what?"
"You." A slight quirk of his lips. "You're not getting emotional. You're growing up. Where is the cocky outlaw who so enjoyed getting into trouble? Where is the man who liked taking chances, seeking out the danger?"
Robin shrugged, looked away. "I viewed the world differently back then."
"We both did."
"Losing people changes your perspective." Robin glanced at Guy, wondering whether the man would pick up on the verbal dagger Robin just twisted into his back. If Guy did, he didn't let it show on his face. "You needn't keep searching. I think we both know where the reckless man you're looking for is."
Guy raised an enquiring eyebrow.
"He is here, in London."
"Archer?" Guy thought about that for a moment. "I don't believe he enjoys getting himself hanged, Robin."
"Are you saying I did?" Robin took a small sip of ale. It was only after the liquid had gone down his throat that he remembered he never touched a jug when he was alone with Guy of Gisborne, tried to keep a clear head around the man.
"You never managed it," Guy allowed. He leaned back in his chair, surveyed the tavern. "But not for lack of trying."
Robin laughed at that. "I could always count on your incompetence to make it out of Nottingham in time." As well as someone who tried to help him whenever he was in trouble, but he didn't mention her. Marian was never far from his mind when he talked with Guy, and he doubted she would ever truly leave his thoughts, but her name need not be spoken tonight. He reserved that act of cruelty and justice for moments when he wanted to lash out at Guy, truly wanted to hurt him.
He hadn't spoken much about her lately.
Willing all thoughts about Marian from his mind, Robin took another sip. It was too late for clear heads now; he might as well finish what was left of his drink.
"So what's the plan?" Guy asked. He put his hands on the table, brought his face closer to Robin's. "We walk into the dungeons, grab our brother and ride back to Nottingham?"
"That's roughly what I had in mind."
Guy shook his head, disbelief marring his features. "I sometimes wonder why I looked up to you the way I did."
Robin suspected he was only half jesting. And part of him knew how the man felt. Heroes were only as great as you believed them to be. Robin would still follow his King into death without hesitation, but his childhood hero was fallible—he had learnt that the hard way.
"There's nothing special about you, is there?" Guy pressed on, his lips curling upwards. Was this a personal victory to him? A reassurance? Did knowing his former enemy was not as cunning as he once believed him to be make the man feel better about himself?
Robin didn't know. Didn't particularly care, either. Not now. Later, perhaps, when he needn't worry quite so much about his brother. "Oh, there is," he told Guy, emptying his jug. "But the lads aren't around to make me look good."
It took Guy a few seconds to react. Then he smiled and inclined his head.
"If it's any consolation," Robin said, and he smiled when Guy's gaze snapped up to meet his, "I've found that having half a plan usually works best."
Guy took this in. "Best not spend too much time thinking about tonight, then."
They would think about it. And they would discuss the plan at length, too. But here, in front of the tavern's fire, warm and comfortable, surrounded by strangers? No, they would not be talking strategy. It seemed they were agreed on that at least.
.
.
Getting into the castle was the easy part.
Prince John's guards were as inept as they came; a small blessing that allowed them to get through the portcullis with a tall tale and a few silver coins. They didn't even need their hooded cloaks for the plan to work.
Robin caught Guy looking over his shoulder as they moved away from the gate. He lightly touched his arm. "What is it?"
A small shrug, barely detectable in the darkness. "I used to think Vaisey's guards were helping you—failing their duties on purpose."
That thought had crossed Robin's mind as well, largely due to the fact that he fed most of the guard's families. But he'd never asked them to, or asked them whether they indeed helped the outlaws when they were in trouble. "Perhaps killing people is harder than Vaisey makes it out to be," he suggested, eyes scanning the courtyard for any sign of movement.
"Or perhaps Prince John inspires disloyalty as well."
Robin didn't get the chance to react to Guy's quiet response. Voices echoed across the courtyard, footsteps of at least five men coming towards them from their right.
Robin felt Guy's hand on his arm, and allowed himself to be dragged into the shadow of the wall. Holding their breath, they waited for the patrol to pass.
They didn't have to wait long. Nattering merrily amongst themselves, the guards passed their hiding space, lances pointing in all possible directions except the right one—depending on your point of view.
When the sound of their footsteps had faded, Robin and Guy started moving towards the castle steps, sticking as close to the walls as possible.
Robin remembered visiting the castle when he was little; remembered being excited and nervous about meeting his King, but there was fairly little he could recall about the layout of the castle. All he knew was that the big hall was close to the main entrance, indicating they had to leave this part of the building as quickly as possible. Meeting Prince John was never a pleasure, but even less so now.
"I think it's this way," Guy whispered into his ear, and Robin turned around, indicating for Guy to lead the way.
.
.
They almost walked past the dungeons entrance, distracted by the footsteps of what Robin assumed were guards behind them. Fortunately, the dark doorway was the only hiding place in the immediate area, and even more fortunate was the fact that they didn't stumble down the stairs the moment they stepped over the threshold.
"Who's there?" someone called, having heard their noisy descent.
Robin thought it best not to answer, but Guy didn't share his view. "Prince John needs one of the prisoners," he announced brusquely, stepping into the faint light of the jailor's candle. "He requires entertainment tonight."
Robin pressed his back against the wall, confident the jailor would not be able to spot him as long as Guy kept him distracted. With a bit of luck, the man would fall for Guy's trick. In the likely event that he wouldn't, they would at least have the element of surprise on their side.
"Does he now?" The jailor looked Guy up and down, lips curling upwards in distaste. "I've never seen your face here before."
"Nor I yours," Guy said lightly, a bored edge to his tone. "Are you going to cooperate tonight?"
The jailor didn't move. "You don't look like a guard."
Guy stiffened, barely perceptible to anyone but Robin, or so Robin believed. "I am Sir Guy of Gisborne, a visitor of Prince John."
"You don't look like much of a knight either."
Guy took a step forward, drawing himself up to his full height. Robin couldn't see his expression, but the look on the jailor's face told him all he needed to know. "Are you willing to repeat yourself in front of His Majesty?"
The jailor bit his lip. "I can't just release prisoners, my Lord, I'm sure you'll understand."
Guy sighed. "Hand me your keys."
A beat. Then, "No."
Robin decided enough was enough. They'd been lucky so far, had encountered few guards and not ran into anyone familiar. But luck could only be counted on for so long. And it didn't look like the jailor was going to hand them the keys of his own accord, which meant he could do with some persuasion.
"Not even if Robin Hood tells you to?"
Even Guy startled at the sound of his voice, his head jerking sideways. The jailor's reflexes were not quite as fast, but he too, was squinting in his direction now.
Robin stepped out of the shadows, his hood concealing the upper half of his face. It made for an obscured vision, but the intimidating effect his hooded face had on those around him could not be denied. "Hand him the keys." He didn't have his bow on him, had thought it best to leave his treasured weapon with the horses, not wanting to draw attention to his true identity. He did have his knives though, and by the looks of it, he did not even need those to deal the jailor some heavy blows.
Guy didn't give him the chance to find out. Taking advantage of the jailor's divided attention, he launched himself at the man, slamming his head against the bars behind him, hands reaching for the ring on his belt.
Robin grabbed the candle, tried to illuminate the cells closest to them. "Archer?"
It took a moment, but then various Archers spoke up, pressing their bodies against the bars, reaching for the keys.
"I'm Archer."
"No, I am Archer."
"Ignore him, lad, I'm the person you're looking for."
Robin briefly closed his eyes. He'd laughed at Guy's tale of the first time they'd rescued Archer, grinned the second time everyone in the dungeons spoke up, felt his lips twitch the third time it happened. Now? Now, he wasn't in the mood for predictable, petty liars, merely wanted to find his brother and be done with it.
"Took you long enough," someone said in a cheerful voice.
Guy grunted, still pressing the jailor into the bars. "We could always leave you here."
A familiar figure shouldered the people behind the bars closest to Robin aside, held up a hand. "Robin. Good to see you. Guy, likewise. Now, how about you get me out of here?"
Robin glanced at the people surrounding his brother. They all had hopeful, expectant looks on their faces.
"What are they here for?" he wanted to know.
Archer shrugged. "Nothing serious. Stealing. Hunting. The usual."
Robin nodded. "All right, then." He unlocked the door and quickly took a step back, narrowly avoiding the crowd making their way out of the cell. "Be quiet," he hissed after them. "Stick to the shadows."
"Oi, what about us?" someone said from the other side of the dungeons.
Robin looked at all the other cells and sighed. It looked like they weren't escaping just yet.
.
.
"What happened this time?" Guy inquired, looking entirely too casual for someone who'd just knocked two guards' heads together, causing them to tumble down the stairs.
Archer pressed himself flat against the wall, stared after the guards for a moment, and looked up again with a grin on his face. "I got caught."
Bells rang in the distance. Robin groaned.
"Save the explanation for later. We need to get out of here."
Archer lightly touched his shoulder. "I know an easy way out. Follow me."
Robin looked at Guy. Guy looked back at him, shrugged. "The gate's guarded."
"Of course it is." Robin gave Archer a small nod. "Lead the way."
.
.
The sewers. Naturally.
"They know this is one of Robin's favourite ways in," Robin heard Guy tell Archer, and he had to frown at his choice of words. It seemed they had a different definition of the word 'favourite'. Then again, when did he and Guy ever agree on anything?
"No, they don't." Archer swiped a brown smudge off his forehead. "This isn't Nottingham, folks. Our finest tricks are as yet unknown.
"Which is why you got caught."
"No." Archer studied the wall in front of them, pointed at the black hole in the far corner. "I got caught because I annoyed the wrong people."
"You always do."
Ignoring his companions, Robin made his way over to the hole and crouched in front of it. "Think this'll fit?"
Archer's hand came to rest on his shoulder. "It's how I got in."
Robin studied Archer's besmirched breeches, breathing shallowly, though it did little to block the sharp smell. "I believe you. Alright." He rubbed his eyes. "I'll go first."
Archer squeezed his shoulder. "See you on the other side."
But first there was darkness. Darkness, and stench.
.
.
"You slept with Sir Gregory's daughter," Guy said tonelessly.
Archer petted his horse's neck, cooed nonsense into her ear. "We did a little more than sleep, Guy, but yeah, that's the gist of it."
"You made us come all the way to London, because you slept with—no, don't answer that, of course you did."
"How did you get the message across to Daniel?" Robin wanted to know, cutting Archer and Guy's tiring conversation short. They'd been forced to get Archer out of similar situations for more ridiculous reasons; questioning his carefree behaviour had proved to be utterly useless so far.
Archer straightened in his saddle, but didn't stop petting his horse. "One of the guards is an old friend of mine. Long story. But he's a friend of Daniel's father's brother."
Robin frowned at that. "And this guard came all the way to Nottingham to inform his friend's nephew of your capture?"
On the road ahead of them, a lone farmer walked alongside his cart. Robin didn't miss the terrified look on his face as the three of them, looking dirty and chagrined, their faces pale and unshaven, rode past him. He sent the man a reassuring smile, attempting to convey the good news he wouldn't be robbed today. Not by Robin's men, at least.
"No," Archer said once they were out of the farmer's hearing range, "but he knew a guy who was headed your way. Looking for work, I reckon. Most people who go to Nottingham are these days."
"Yeah, the Sheriff certainly needs workers," Robin muttered under his breath, thinking of the remains of the castle. "Even so, that was a bit of a gamble, Archer. You had no idea if the man would reach Nottingham in time."
"Yes, why are you still alive?" Guy wanted to know.
Archer turned around in his saddle to stare at them. "You have no imagination, do you? You think hanging's the only punishment out there?"
Robin glanced at Guy. It had certainly been one of Vaisey's favourite killing methods. Beside the fact that the man was as sadistic as they came, Robin suspected he hadn't felt like feeding people either. Hanging them was more efficient.
Archer's weary reaction bothered him. "Are you alright?"
"Now you're asking?" Archer turned his back on them once more.
"Did they hurt you?"
A moment's pause. "No," Archer eventually muttered. "Nothing worth mentioning."
A part of Robin wanted to press on, because clearly, something had happened to make Archer this irritable. For the most part, though, he was relieved Archer was willing to let the matter rest. If his brother truly wanted to talk to him, he could and would do just that. He knew Robin would listen; he always did—
"Why don't you listen to me more then, master?"
—but if he didn't want to, well, Robin wasn't about to pressure him.
They spent the rest of the afternoon in silence.
.
.
The journey back took longer than Robin and Guy's outward journey. They'd been more eager to reach their destination of course, but the horses Allan had stolen for them had been considerably more capable as well. The animals they got their hands on just outside the gates of London were old and worn, and needed a stop every few hours. It was frustrating. Frustrating, and not exactly mood-lifting.
But they were making progress. Slow but steady progress.
"Have you seen Archer?"
Robin stopped tending to his horse and looked over his shoulder to see Guy frowning at him, the loaf of bread from breakfast still clutched in his hand. "Archer? Yeah, he is just over—"
Something clattered in the distance, an enraged scream drowning out the sound almost immediately. "My wife? My wife! You! You!"
"—there," Robin finished lamely.
Guy pointed at the other horses. "Are the saddles secured?"
"I believe so."
Before they got the chance to make sure the saddles were indeed travel-ready, the door to the stables burst open, revealing their long-lost younger brother, hair in complete disarray, a cheerful grin on his face. "You guys ready to go? I sure am."
Without saying a word, Robin got on his horse, grabbing the reins and riding off, trusting Guy and Archer to follow immediately.
It was going to be a long journey.
And it wouldn't be their last.
-fin-