(Author's Note: I know there are two very strong opinions on Guy and Meg's relationship...one that he was in love with her romantically, the other that he was grateful to her for the light and kindness she had shown him and she was, besides Marian, the first person in a long, long time that he had ever loved as a friend. I am personally inclined to the latter view...but I've somehow tried to strike a balance between the two here, because I truly believe that, given time, Guy could have fallen in love with Meg and married her.)

Some Good In You

Robin ran, crouching, through the overgrowth that hugged the hillside. His feet made almost no sound in the carpet of dead leaves as they touched the earth lightly and then flew up again, like birds skimming over the water, cutting a seamless path along the foorest floor. He was in good shape and had always posessed a natural grace about him, one which none of the gang could compete with. This sort of stealth travel was child's play for him.

The sky was clouded over, and the air was cold. Strangely cold for a summer's day. The trees around him were so tall that he had to crane his neck up to see the green leaves. When he stared straight ahead, all he could see were thin grey trunks planted in brown, mottled leaves. It truly looked like an autumn woodland.

If it was cold now, it would be freezing tonight. He pitied any travellers caught in the wilderness when night fell, speaking of which…

Robin halted and grabbed a tree with his hand, using it to swing himself around like a dog chained to a post. The bark was rough and cool against his hand as he peered at the dried up rainwater channel that paralelled his path.

He crossed his arms and waited, leaning back on the balls of his feet. None of the gang knew he was out here; at least, none of them knew he was out here for this purpose. If they did, they would certainly have tried to stop him. But it was something he was determined to do and he would allow no one, not even his friends, to stop him.

Finally, a tall, familiar figure in black broke the crest of the hill and passed through the thin trees like a silhuoette, sharp and crisp against the mist-white sky.

Gisborne knew something was up; Robin gave him that. The man had fashioned a crude bow and had it loaded, pointing it this way and that at every chirp of a bird or rustle of a hare. Once Gisborne knew he was being followed, some of the satisfaction quickly drained out of the fun, but Robin had soon thought up a new game. He ran rings around Gisborne, taking care to crack sticks, crunch leaves, and imitate every birdcall he knew.

As could only be expected, Gisborne reacted with paranoid caution. His body tensed even more than before, if that was possible. The dirty, prison wasted hands clapsed tighter on the wood of the bow as the pale, haunted face darted from side to side, desperate to keep the source of the disturbances in his sight at all times.

His whole body kept pivoting, each sound darting through it like an electric shock. More than once, Robin had to bite his lip to keep himself from laughing. He felt like a man who pulls a dagger out of his side and rolls it along the table before discarding it, which was exactly what he meant to do with Gisborne.

After an hour or so, however, it finally got boring. Of course, Robin didn't want Gisborne so strung up that he shot the first human being he saw. He wanted to talk to him first, look him in the eye, and make sure the man got the message, I'm still alive. No matter what you tried to do to me. (Marian) I'm still here, and I'm not leaving.

Now, as Gisborne stumbled down the slope and got closer to where Robin was hiding, the outlaw noticed the way Gisborne's arrow was shaking, trembling like a wind-blown grass blade as it bounced up and down the bow.

The man was fresh out of prison, as could be seen from the dark stubble that covered his chin and the deep, black circles around his eyes. His raven-dark hair was dirty and lifeless. His black pants were split open around the ankles and worn through in several places while his shirt was frayed and stained, hanging loosely from his wiry frame like an overlarge blanket.

Any other man, Robin would have pitied. But with Gisborne, it seemed merely a taste of the punishment he was sure to receive in the next life for his sins of murder, robbery, and hatred. Compared to what he deserved, it was nothing and therefore too insignificant for Robin to either relish or sympathize with. He simply felt numb towards him.

He decided to reveal himself before Gisborne got any closer. At ten paces there was the slightest possibility that even Gisborne's arrow could find its target. Robin put an arrow to his bow, just in case, and straightened up. "You realizing how difficult life can be in the forest?"

Hardly two syllables had passed from his mouth before Gisborne's charged body wheeled around to face him, shaking arrow pointed at the famous outlaw. Gisborne's first words were significantly drained of his once monstrous pride, and full of anxiety. "How long have you and your men been following me?"

Robin resisted the urge to smirk, remembering that he and he alone had been terrifying the once formidable Black Knight out of his senses. He watched the arrow quiver like a mad thing. It obviously cost Gisborne no little effort to keep it even moderately steady. "You're jumpy."

"Answer me!" Exhausted but still demanding, apparently. Gisborne had always been good at barking orders, but this command was a hoarse whisper compared to its former glory. In fact, it even had a touch of hysteria about it.

Robin rolled his eyes heavenward. Gisborne was alone, starving, exhausted, and completely powerless. He would never again be able to torment Nottingham as he once had. Really, the man overestimated his importance. Robin was here on personal business, not a justice hunt. "Gisborne, I have better things to do with my day."

Gisborne still did not drop his guard. The silence was painfully unsure as the man tried to make up his mind wether to trust Robin or not. In Gisborne's line of work, trust was a fragile thing. For some god-forsaken reason, however, he always insisted on putting so much stake upon it, only to have it blow up in his face. He rather deserved it, Robin thought, since trust really had no place in the life Gisborne had chosen. It was like a bat expecting to enjoy the sunlight and then getting blinded, but coming back for more. It was stupid.

However, he did want Gisborne to believe him. Even to trust him just this far. He opened his arms and gestured at the woods around him before dropping his hands to his hips. "I'm alone."

Gisborne glanced both right and left almost instinctively, then turned back to Robin, grim satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. He threw his bow and arrow down with the disgusted air of a man who would never have to use them again. Despite his weakness, he was able to whip his sword from the sheath in a flash of silver, with long practice still holding his wrist in control. He stepped forward rather heavily, but his entire body seemed to burn with eagerness. "Very well."

Robin knew exactly what Gisborne wanted, knew exactly what he expected. To tell the truth, Robin had expected it too, which was partly why he had followed him. After he came back from the Holy Land and met Friar Tuck and spent more time with the friends he loved and thought more about the…woman he'd lost, his desire for revenge had cooled.

He was aware that Guy seemed to hate life more than death. In his opinion, it was but a fitting punishment; Guy was stuck in the very world he had reduced to ashes, bleeding along with the rest of Creation because Marian was not there. It was the most perfect, most horrifically picturesque punishment, one Robin could never have devised.

But then again, it was more of the thought of Marian herself that had stopped him. He knew she would not have wanted it. He might, but she wouldn't. She wouldn't have wanted it. And for her sake, he would let the traitor live.

Robin had stopped being sure of how much he wanted revenge some time ago, but now, facing Gisborne, he was willing to try it anyway, to settle the doubt and settle the debt. Besides, this would not be simple murder, he reasoned, both to himself and the ever present spirit of his sweet Marian, the one he could feel breathing against his cheek so lovingly when he aimed his bow at the morning sun. He would not be betraying her by engaging in this fight. Gisborne wanted it even more than he did. Gisborne had a weapon, and he had literally invited Robin to draw his sword against him.

Robin dropped his Saracen bow on the ground, careful to let Gisborne hear his patient, incredulous sigh. "Really?"

Without answering, Gisborne continued to plod heavily down the slope towards him until he reached level ground. The sword was still pointed, but the clumsy way Gisborne planted his feet on the ground reminded Robin of Guy's weakened state and pricked his conscience.

He wasn't so sure this would be a fair fight. Drawing his own blade, he strode confidently towards him, still offering the Black Knight a chance at backing off. "You're really sure you wanna do this now?"

But then again, Gisborne had no reason for backing off. He had nothing to lose, and nothing to gain except oblivion or revenge. He was breathing hard, wether from adrenalin or weariness, Robin wasn't sure. Probably both. Gisborne stopped and shrugged his shoulders mockingly."Why not?"

That mocking gesture seemed to snap out any spark of sympathy in Robin like fingers putting out a candle flame. He took his sword in both hands and moved to a fighter's position, ready to take the charge he knew would come. "Well, honestly, I don't think you have the energy."

Guy did look ready to drop on his feet. He even seemed to miss the unmanly jab at his physical condition, instead taking it seriously. He leaned forward a little, like a wolf trying a leash."I don't need food or sleep to drive me," he snarled. Suddenly, Robin realised how oddly threatening Gisborne looked, clothed in black, his blue eyes storming, the sharp blade in his hand as he glared down at Robin from his slightly elevated position.

But Robin refused to be cowed. "Then what do you need?" he smirked, his question purely rhetorical. He had a good idea what the answer would be.

"Revenge." The word seemed to come from deep inside Gisborne's chest, like a terrible secret pulled out of a tomb. It whistled through the cold air as it landed in Robin's ear, bringing an unpleasant sensation, unpleasant memories of his own days of hate-driven madness. It enfuriated him just to think about it, but it also made him wiser.

Oh please. That's all its ever been about, isn't it, Gisborne? All that's ever on your mind. "On who? Prince John?"

"Prince John will keep," Gisborne cut him off sharply, "Isabella," the name dripped with venom, "will not!"

It was unsurprising, but still sickening, to see how the two Gisborne children tore each other apart like wolves, or like hyenas fighting for the same scraps from the lion's table. There was something dark and horrible between them, something Robin had no desire to find out about. It was more than the arranged marriage. It was poison, poison in the form of hatred, betrayal, and lies.

He had seen it so clearly at the almost-execution, seen the unhealable emnity between them both. He doubted he would ever forget it, for the simple reason that Guy of Gisborne had broken down and begged for the life of another. For one short, earth-shattering moment, Guy had seemed like a real human being. A human being with a heart.

"Very well, Isabella, you win. Kill me if you must, but not her."

Still blinking in the sunlight, filthy and disheveled, Gisborne turned his head to look up at Isabella on her throne. His blue eyes, rimmed by the shadows of long, sleepless nights and a living death under the dungeons of the castle, seemed to rivet Robin to the spot. He had never seen such intensity in them before, so much life and desperation and, if Robin dared to think it…love, as if Gisborne's human soul had finally reawakened and, newly born, was already fighting for its life.

There was terror in his eyes, but it was the purest, most beautiful form of terror. It was terror for the sake of another.

"The girl," Robin found himself asking, his voice falling like an arrow through the atmosphere, "who is she?"

As he spoke again, Gisborne's voice wavered and broke. "I'll do whatever you want…but (please, please) don't take her life." The pleading words left unspoken were obvious in his tone. And for a moment, Robin felt the crowd change. The murmur of hatred faded away.

Robin's quick eyes didn't miss the almost paralyzing spasm of pain that racked Gisborne's face, forcing him to grab the sword with both hands as sheer willpower wrestled back control from the wasted body, the tortured mind.

For a split second, Robin thought Isabella would pardon the girl, would be satisfied with simply taking Gisborne's life, not following through with the cruel whim that could leave him shattered beyond repair.

Because Robin saw that to kill the girl would shatter the Black Knight. He knew the look, saw mirrored in those blue eyes the terrible, agonized fear that had clutched his own heart so many times. The fear that his loved one would die.

"I think," Gisborne hissed between his teeth, "you mean 'was'." At the last word, something seemed to fold up and collapse inside the man. He ducked his head, hiding his face from Robin as his hands turned white on the pommel. There was no sound, only painful silence as what should have been a flood of tortured agony was bottled up inside the feeble frame, inside the heaving chest and the blackened heart.

Apparently, Isabella saw it too. A pleased, self-satisfied smile crawled up her face as she realized just how well everything had played into her hands. Gisborne had surrendered to her. He had handed her his pride, the one thing he had left, on a silver platter with all the trimmings. He had broken, he had begged, he had almost wept…and he was powerless against the utter misery Isabella was about to inflict on him, as powerless as she had been against Thornton for eight years of anguish…eight years that felt like eight lifetimes.

"Proceed with the execution!"

"What happened to her?" Robin's hand was loose on his sword as he stared at Gisborne, suddenly realizing what an unthinkable thing had just happened to him. Pity. Pity for Guy of Gisborne was welling up in his soul. And sympathy. The old pain in his heart began to ache and flare, but not because Guy was the cause of it. Because now Guy could feel it.

Or maybe, and this idea was even more horrible, maybe Guy had always felt it. Maybe he really had loved Marian…if he was capable of loving a young girl after no more than four hours…then maybe…just maybe…

"SHE'S JUST AN INNOCENT GIRL!"

Guy somehow found the strength to lift up his head. And, to Robin's surprise, all the hatred had drained away. The face was like the face of a man who's been stabbed, who's dying, who's been through so much pain that he's passed beyond it now, and all he wants to know is, 'Why?'

"Gisborne, I need to know…what happened to her?" Robin took a step forward. He felt…he was no longer sure what he felt. The man before him had always been an object of such hate and revulsion. Before Marian, he had been a rival. No, not even a rival. Just a cruel, odious little boy who couldn't understand the word 'no', so obsessed with Marian that he would have killed everyone dear to her if it could only join them at the altar. After Marian…he had gone too far, destroying all the joy in Robin's life simply because he couldn't have it himself. Which made Robin believe he had never cared about Marian as a person…just a thing.

After a while, the burning, writhing pain of her loss had cooled in Robin like heated iron, turning into a distant, icy rock in his chest that ached where his heart had been. All his tears, his tenderness, his passion, his youth…his love…had been buried with Marian under the desert sea of the Holy Land. But that did not mean he couldn't appreciate justice.

He had watched with grim satisfaction that was never satisfied enough as Gisborne deteriorated into a drunken, disheveled wreck. His relationship with the Sheriff fell apart, Prince John disowned him, and even his own sister preyed upon his life. It would never be enough for what he did to Marian, but it was something.

And now, the revelation that Gisborne, too, had a heart…a lost, buried, broken heart…like Robin's…it shouldn't have changed anything. It shouldn't have changed a single thing.

But it did.

At the first forward movement Robin made, however, shields seemed to snap into place over Guy's eyes, like the shields of Prince John's personal guard, relentless, unchanging, and hard. He grabbed the sword, bringing it up once more to a defensive position. Spittle flew from his mouth as he hissed his reply, "I killed her!"

"What!?" Robin felt his fantasy come crashing down around him. Suddenly, he realized what a ridiculous idea it was that Gisborne could ever know love. The clear, painful image of the old Gisborne fell as easily into place like a nail in a hole. His next question was sharp with revulsion "What did you…"

"I let her in!" Gisborne snapped, interrupting him. As he continued speaking, he took a step forward. Then another, and another. "I let my guard down and she just slipped right inside…" he halted, cocking his head at an odd angle, the old smirk creeping up his mouth. Then he burst into a canine howl of bitter laughter. "I could have told her there was nothing there to find…I let another bleeding heart come close to me, another angel thought she could save me…she! And she died!" At the last word, he lunged forward with surprising speed and strength. Like a black wolf leaping down upon the outlaw from above, he brought his sword down in a sharp, whistling arc that crashed against Robin's defending blade. The force of the blow made Robin grit his teeth in pain as it vibrated through his arms, painfully jarring his wrists and shoulders.

Barely giving the outlaw time to recover, Gisborne hammered into him with elbow, fist, and knee, driving him back through sheer strength and fury. Anywhere he could see any part of Robin undefended, he made sure to smash into it like a bag of rocks…and Gisborne had always had a heavy physical attack.

But he had only so much strength left, and Robin was swift, agile, and…what was more important…patient. Panting, he realized Gisborne was getting slower. He waited until the Black Knight leaned too far forward in his attack thrust. Seizing his opportunity, he grabbed Gisborne's sword wrist and yanked it downwards, crushing it into his knee as he punched Gisborne in the face with the other hand still clutching the pommel. The thud of bone against bone was audible.

With a cry of pain but still grasping his sword, Gisborne stumbled back. His ribcage seemed to swell with every breath, as if it was still too little, too little air for his starving lungs. Red drops of blood trickled from his nose, but his blue eyes were as sharp…and hard…as ever. He didn't even seem to feel the pain as he shuffled sideways over the leaves, circling Robin drunkenly.

Panting, Robin tried to ignore the aching feeling in his body as he kept in pace with the Black Knight, Sherwood Forest revolving slowly around them, as if the entire, majestic woodland was centered, with bated breath, on the two puny human beings. Robin gathered his strength and spoke, watching Gisborne carefully. "What…did you…do to her?"

The hand tightened on the pommel once more, the snarl fading like a cut being healed. The anguish in his eyes was far away but raw, like the pain Robin had seen reflected in the river when he spent long, sleepless nights by it, bereft of sweet, warm arms that should have embraced him all their lifetime together. Gisborne's sword drooped as he stared at the leafy floor, a strange wonder seeping in to mingle with the pain. "She pushed me…she took the pike meant for me…she died. She was just a girl. Stupid, stupid girl…"

The silence was long. Very long. Time seemed to creep around them, silent. Gisborne didn't blink. And then, Robin realized there was something shining in those bright blue eyes. Shining, brimful, yet still unable to fall. Stupid, stupid girl…

"Beautiful girl."

It took an inexcusably long time for both men to realize what Gisborne had just whispered aloud. Their eyes flew to look at each other.

"Did you love her, Gisborne?"

Did I? There was an answer, but it was too painful to say. Gisborne felt like it was attached to his heart by a cord…and if he said it, the cord would be pulled…would tear it out of his heart, and never be made whole. And the agony would never stop. It's funny, really…no…no, it's just sad…it's sad how I never realized how much she meant to me until she was gone…same way you can take life for granted until someone rips your guts open with a sword, or a pike…Did I wish this on Hood? Did…when…when I killed Marian…I destroyed myself, I destroyed everything…but I destroyed it. I can blame only myself.

Who can I blame for her death? Why does it feel like one great big, horrible accident…as if something so beautiful, so precious…could be blotted out by an accident? It wasn't that guard, or Isabella…or even me. It was everything, and nothing. Everything killed her, and nothing killed her. And I was powerless to stop it. Powerless to stop them as they ground her into the dust… they stole her from me…they didn't need to hurt me, because they hurt her…they killed her…wonderful, stupid girl…beautiful…

"Gisborne, did you love her?" Robin prompted him, desperately.

Gisborne looked up. "I…did." There. It was out. And he could feel the cord yank, the blood rushing inside him, gushing out of his heart, his new, ruined heart, reborn just a day ago, destroyed in an instant. It had lived only four hours…than again, so had she. And the pain…the utter, dull sensation…of life ended. He was a walking dead man, with a chest full of pain. He blinked, unable to see the blurry, brown figure of the outlaw. "I didn't deserve her…but I did love her."

It's almost as if you've got a clean conscience.

Well, why shouldn't I have?

Because of all the…awful things you've done in your life.

He looked at the sword in his hands…he could see his face in it, bedraggled…like the face of some mournful ghost, lost in the land of the living. All the blood that had painted this blade, all the screams it had generated, the pain and loss, the injustice. All the…awful things it had seen. Awful things that he had done.

She had told him that. To his face. She had pushed the hard truth where he couldn't look away from it, then turned right around and offered him friendship. She had condemned the sin, and offered compassion to the sinner. She reminded him of Marian, because she was pure, and good, and innocent... because she believed that Guy of Gisborne still had a heart and soul.

Like Marian, she had been wrong.

Yet, unlike Marian, she had never, ever lied to him…

There must be some good in you yet.

She believed in him.

You don't know me.

He looked at Robin. The outlaw stared back, brow drawn down in confusion, sword loose in his hands. A perfect moment to attack aggressively and, perhaps, win victory, and kill the famous outlaw who had unwittingly haunted Gisborne's entire life. A perfect moment for revenge…

A perfect moment to prove he was lost.

A perfect moment to prove her wrong.

A perfect, perfect moment…to guarantee that she had died in vain.

I always…quite liked you.

Guy reared up, eyes flashing like a reborn phoenix as blind rage and fury stormed in his blue eyes, lighting up his face. The blade rose, whistling, in his hands. He stepped forward, the sword leaping like silver death as Robin stumbled back, raising his own blade up in defense but slowly, much too slowly…

And Gisborne's sword flew over his head; slicing through the air until it landed with a dull thud, point embedding in the mossy overgrowth that crowned the hill.

Robin twisted around just in time to see the sword stop; he wheeled around again, this time staring at Guy with utter bewilderment, his mouth partly open, full of unspoken question…

"She wouldn't have wanted it." Guy said. His blue eyes were wide and open now, almost like a deer's in their simplicity, confusion, resignation. Peace.

His arms hung loose at his side. He thought that, by sparing Robin, he had condemned himself to eternal emptiness, eternal unfullfillment…

Instead, he felt relieved. Renewed. He was not empty. Full of agonized regret and pain and loss, yes…but not empty. For her sake, he had taken the chance of throwing it all away. For her sake, he had denied himself this last thing…

Maybe she was right.

Maybe there was still something inside him, something undestroyed from the days when he was nothing more than an innocent child who believed in fairies and prayed for miracles and loved his little sister. Something inside him that could still love.

As he had loved her.

Robin was no longer a part of his fate, whatever it was. He didn't know where he would go, what he would do…maybe that little part of him would lead him…maybe he would find her again. For that, he would do anything. Because he loved her.

Yes, he could say that now without pain. He loved her. He would always love her.

He turned around and began to walk away, not knowing wether Robin would put an arrow in his back and not really caring either.

The outlaw's voice came to his ear, but he did not pause. "What was her name?"

Curly hair. Sweet smile. Sharp tongue. Huge heart.

He smiled.

Huge mouth.

"Meg," the trees above him seemed to take the word and gently brush it through their leaves, carrying it on with the wind. "Her name was Meg."

FINIS