Hello, all! You might not remember, but once upon a time (a long, long time ago) I sort of promised I would try to write an AU of season 3 of Robin Hood. To be fair, I did start to write said story, but never got around to finish it. Flashforward many months later and ta da! Here it is. I don't know if people are still interested, but I hope they are. It should go without saying that I don't own anything and I'm only doing this for fun.

Fair warnings: there's going to be angst, there's going to be romance, there's going to be a lot of Robin, but I'm also going to try to see the good in Guy (try being the operative word here). It should be interesting.

Let me know what you think!

THE GREATEST ADVENTURE

(IS STILL TO COME)

CHAPTER ONE.

Robin of Locksley had never been afraid of dying.

Ever since he could remember he had always been putting himself in what others had called "danger". He had often wandered around Sherwood Forest well after dark. He had borrowed his father's weapons and picked up fights with older kids. Later on in life, he had gone as far as leaving everything behind to follow the King into a war he didn't fully understand, all for the sake of adventure.

This wasn't the first time he was dying –time and time again he had encountered little bumps in the road that had, more often than not, left him at the very brink of death. It would, however, be the last. He was done trying to wriggle his way out of trouble; done hoping to be saved at the last second. He was, in short, done fighting.

Today, it wasn't that he wasn't afraid of dying; today, he actually wanted to die.

He had been waiting -hoping, dreaming- for this day for months. Truth be told, it was actually more perfect than he had ever hoped it would be.

There's no shame in dying for what you believe in, he had told Much once, many years ago, right after receiving his first semi-serious wound in the battlefield. His manservant had been tending to him, going on and on about what a tragedy it would be if his master was to get himself killed when they were so far away from home, and so Robin had tried to put him at ease by reminding him that it really wasn't all that bad. Not if one's death meant something; not if by dying one was making a difference. Not if one was part of something bigger.

Not if there were people to carry on with what he had started.

Time had put things into perspective for him. Five years in the desert, killing men whose only fault was to believe in a god that was only slightly different from his own, had made him wonder whether that particular cause was worth carrying on. And yet, had he died then, he would have been fine, because it would have meant that Much would be able to return home. His death would have given his dearest friend his freedom and that -that alone would have been worth it.

He hadn't died then, of course. He had come close, but thanks to Much's cares and his own stubbornness he had ended up making a full recovery. They had both made it back home, ready to put the nightmare behind and move on with their lives.

It hadn't exactly worked out. Almost immediately after their return, Robin had found himself facing death once again.

He could have died that day in the courtyard -hadn't it been for Marian he would have died- but he hadn't felt sorry or afraid. He had been proud.

To die in the place of four completely innocent men -men who had been willing to take great risks trying to provide for their families- would have been an honour. As would have been dying a few days later, when he turned himself in to protect his peasants.

Time and time again Robin had put himself in harm's way for those he loved and cared about -his king, his country, his people, his friends. Time and time again he could have died by the hand of his enemies but time and time again they had failed. He had always found a way around it in the end -he had always survived.

Until today.

Today he was going to die.

Dying for his king would have been fine. Dying for his peasants would have been better. Dying after defeating those who threatened his king and his peasants was the best.

All in all, he couldn't have picked a better way to go than this: in Sherwood, surrounded by his outlaws, the smell of the Byzantine fire still lingering in the air and the sound of the explosion that had destroyed Nottingham castle ringing in his ears.

No, he wasn't afraid of dying. Not like this.

Of course, he was the only one at ease with the idea -the only one who had come to terms with the inevitable.

"Nothing's gonna happen," Much said bravely -or at least as bravely as he could manage. Robin could hear the tears in his voice, even if he was trying hard to keep them in check. "There's a cure."

Good old Much, always trying to find the "good bit", the silver lining. He couldn't see that in this case his death would be the good bit. That it was his time; that he wanted to die.

That he had actually died many months ago, but had stuck around -like a ghost- to finish what he had started the moment he saved Will and Allan and Luke and Benedict. And he had now. Today he had finally defeated his enemy. Today he had saved Nottingham and he had come one step closer to saving England. Today he had handled his unfinished business so the time had come for him to finally -to finally let go.

"We have cheated death so many times…" he said softly, walking the small distance that separated them.

They were all there. Much and Allan. Little John. Tuck and Kate. His band. His friends. His brothers. Those who had stuck with him through thick and thin. Those who had believed in him enough to join him on his crusade. Those who had pulled him from the brink every time he found himself close to the breaking point. Robin Hood.

His newfound family was also there: the brother he had never known he had and the man a large part of him still wanted to kill. Two men he had never expected to be part of his gang and yet who had proven their loyalty to their cause, to their country, to their king -to him- in the end. He was glad they were here -that he would get the chance to say his goodbye to them as well.

"What am I going to be without you?" Much asked him.

Robin smiled slightly. For so long Much had believed himself to need Robin to survive when the truth was that it was really the other way around. He had never corrected him because -well, in all honesty because he had enjoyed being admired by his friend. But there was no point in hiding anymore. He deserved the truth from him.

"You are already more of a man that I will ever be." Much clearly didn't buy it, so he grabbed him by the neck, forcing him to look at him as he said the words he should have actually said many years ago. "You are my best friend."

It was silly, really. Two words -best friend- that held little meaning. As far as titles went, this one was rather inconsequential. But for both of them it meant so much more. For so long Much had wondered where he stood with Robin -how did the former lord of Locksley see him? Was he still a servant to him? Was he just another member of his gang? Would it make a difference if one day he decided he wanted to leave or would it be like when Will left -sad, but manageable? It was impossible to know with Robin, even for someone who knew him as well as Much. He was always careful not to reveal too much about himself, and while those closest to him had long ago learned to live with it, it had occasionally annoy Much to no end.

But today he knew. He was Robin's best friend. Coming from anyone else, that title would have meant very little; coming from Robin, it meant the world.

And then, just when Much thought it couldn't get any more emotional, Robin did something he had only rarely done: he hugged him -a tight, heartfelt embrace that was meant to make up for all the times when he had appeared distant or cruel or unappreciative of the man who had been constantly by his side. It wasn't the kind of hug Robin usually gave anyone, but today he wanted -needed- his friend to know, without a shadow of a doubt, how important he really was, how much he had constantly relied on him.

How much he loved him.

When they finally parted there were tears in both men's eyes but no one commented on it.

"This isn't fair," John said suddenly, rather uncharacteristically. He was usually not one to complain or question what life threw his way. But there were limits to his patience and today he found he couldn't sit idly by because -because it wasn't fair; it wasn't fair that Robin should die when he was so close to having what he had always dreamed of. Vaisey was dead and the king was coming back and he would be pardoned. He would get to live the life he had fought so hard for… Except he wasn't. He was going to die instead.

It wasn't fair.

"Come on, John," Robin said rather exasperatedly. He had expected Much's reluctance, but not John's. John was supposed to be the sensible one. "Today is a good day to die."

Hearing his own words thrown back at him very nearly broke the usually unbreakable Little John. Uttering a choked sob, he took a step forward and gathered the man he had come to regard more like a son than anything else in his strong arms.

Robin's eyes found Allan, standing just behind John's back.

"You," he said, stumbling slightly on his way to his friend. "You are a good man. I'm sorry I ever doubted that."

"I'm not," Allan disagreed, his voice soft and tired. "I betrayed you, I lied to you, I-"

"You came back. You saved our lives. You are a good man, Allan A-Dale. Don't you ever forget that. Understood?"

Nodding once, he too proceeded to embrace his leader and friend for the last time.

The poison was very quick. Robin could feel himself growing weaker and weaker and he knew he didn't have much time left. But he had to hold on for a little while longer. He couldn't leave without saying his goodbyes.

"My work isn't finished yet, Tuck," he continued, addressing now the man who was largely responsible for him being here right now. Without him he would have probably died months ago and Vaisey would still be terrorizing Nottingham. Tuck had found him when he didn't want to be found and had reminded him of who he really was. So he told him -he told him how grateful he was for him and how he hoped he would continue mentoring those he was leaving behind, just like he had mentored him.

A little way still to go…

Robin smiled slightly when he saw the men he was looking for standing just a little bit away from the rest of the gang -alone together. He understood them. They were outsiders, they didn't belong there -or at least they didn't think they did. Well, that would need to change.

Walking towards them proved to be a much greater task than he had expected and he very nearly stumbled over his own feet. Archer caught him and supported most of his weight so that he could remain standing.

"Your place is here now," he said, his voice even more tired than before.

"Without you?"

"These men are some of the best England has to offer, and they are yours now. You need to lead them. Together you must protect Nottinghamshire and when the King returns you need to make sure they all get what is due to them. For me. You will be the new Lord of Locksley; they will be your responsibility. Make sure Much gets his Bonchurch," (there was a loud sob from behind, but Robin was too exhausted to take a look) "and that everyone else gets what they deserve. I'm counting on you, Archer. Will you look after my men for me?"

The young man's eyes were wide with surprise.

"I don't know if I can…"

"You can. Much will look after you, just like he's looked after me all these years. Tuck will keep you in the right track. John, Allan and Kate will follow your lead. And when all of this is over, Gisborne will teach you how to be a good master to your peasants. Won't you, Gisborne?"

Guy, who had remained stoic while his former enemy went around saying his goodbyes, looked at him as if he had suddenly spurred another head. Robin couldn't help but smile at his confusion.

"I'm confident you've picked up a thing or two about being a good master. And that you won't make the same mistakes you once made."

It was clear from his face that Robin actually believed that there was hope for him after all. The way he was looking at him -like he trusted him; trusted him to do the right thing. Guy didn't know why, but that trust meant more to him than anything else in the world and he suddenly felt the need to do something -anything- to feel worthy of that trust. This was the last time he was going to see Robin of Locksley and there were so many things he needed to get off his chest.

"Robin, I-" he started to say, but he was stopped by the other man shaking his head.

"I know what you're going to say," he assured him. "I know."

He did know. He was going to talk about her and Robin didn't really want to talk about her. Not yet, when he still hadn't said goodbye to Kate. Not here, when he was surrounded by his friends. Not with Gisborne, of all people! He might have grown to understand him a little bit and he trusted him to do the right thing. But he hadn't forgiven him and he certainly hadn't forgotten what he had done. So no, he didn't want to talk about her with him.

He wanted her for himself.

"Kate," he said at last. The girl wasted no time throwing her arms around his neck and pulling closer to his chest. He held her there for a moment because he knew that she needed that -just like he knew what she needed to hear from him. But he couldn't say it. He couldn't even bring himself to do anything more than wrap his arms around her small frame and hold her like that for a few moments. "Brave Kate," he said instead, because it was the only thing he could say. She was brave, and he did care for her -just not in the way she wanted him to. He sincerely hoped she would grow to understand him in due time.

"I'm sorry that I have to leave you," he told her, praying it was enough. "All of you," he added, casting a final glance around the small clearing where they were all standing. Six men locked eyes with him for the last time. "But I have to do this alone."

Pushing away from her, he started on his brief journey towards the place he had chosen as his final resting spot. He sensed more than saw that Much made to follow him, but he also heard a very low "Don't," coming from John. He was grateful for that -grateful that he at least understood that he needed to be alone for this.

She wouldn't come if he wasn't alone.

The gang watched him leave until he was out of sight.

"What do we do now?" Allan asked -to no one and everyone, needing desperately to be doing something.

"We wait," John replied. The words '-until we can be sure he's really dead' were implied in his tone. He forced himself to glance at Archer in an effort to fulfill Robin's wish that he be included in the gang, silently asking him whether he agreed with the plan. The young man gave him a tense nod.

And so they waited -which was hard, because they didn't know what to wait for. They all knew the poison was quick, so Robin was most likely dead already. But at the same time they didn't want to take any chances. So they kept waiting. And waiting.

They waited -until the scream pierced the stillness of Sherwood Forest.