A/N: right, here we go, just a quick idea to get you lot in the Christmas spirit. I'll admit, the start is kind of boring, but the following chapters will get better, I swear it!
My favourite Christmas song of all time has to be Fairytale of New York with good old Shane MacGowan and Kirsty MacColl. I love it. Sooo, I thought I'd use the idea that Robin gets thrown into jail because he's drunk and he thinks of his past Christmas's with his girl, Marian!
Note: Writing that's been highlighted in bold are lines from the song. Also, next chapters will be the past, his memories of past Christmas's. I've also decided to leave the whole "Robin the saviour" out of this, it's just a pure, fluffy story that contains bittersweet memories.
Enjoy and a Merry Christmas!
Christmas Eve – 1980
Nottingham, England.
He had blown his fortune on gambling, drugs and drink, and once again, he found himself back in his local drunk tank in Nottingham, The New York, drinking himself into a stupor, just like he had done every Christmas for perhaps the last ten years or so. He was still a young man, only twenty-seven years old, some would say that he still had his whole life ahead of him; others said that he had already wasted it.
Robin Locksley was well known in Nottingham, not just for his alcoholism, his excessive gambling addiction and his notorious bar brawls, but for his musical talent. He was a musician. A down-on-his-luck musician who had blown any chance of getting to play in a gig because of his alcohol abuse, he was a drunk and everyone knew it.
Sitting at the bar in the New York, Locksley knocked back another double - whiskey and threw the glass down onto the counter, demanding another one while trying to keep his balance on the barstool.
"Don't you think that you've had enough?" the balding middle-aged barman asked from behind the bar while picking up the empty whiskey glass and refilling it.
"Not nearly enough," Robin replied, his words slurring slightly and his eyes rolling into the back of his head.
"Listen, I don't mean to be rude, but it's Christmas Eve man, surely you have somewhere else to be?" the barman asked quietly but very carefully. He didn't want to push it and sound as if he didn't want the young man there, Locksley was a local, someone who had bought alcohol in his pub for years. He had a lot of respect for the man. He was also pretty apprehensive to get the young Musician out of his pub before the lad became incredibly intoxicated and started a fight, a bar brawl was the last thing the landlord needed, especially on Christmas Eve.
Robin looked up at him for a moment and then grinned, however, it was forced. "Bill, if I had somewhere else to be, you know I'd be there right now."
"I know Robin, I know…it's just, it's Christmas Eve, you shouldn't be spending it here, you should be spending it with your family…or perhaps a lady friend?"
Robin snorted loudly into his glass of whiskey before throwing the entire contents into the back of his open mouth and slamming the glass onto the counter of the bar, causing the barman to flinch slightly, worried that he had pushed the young man's temper, the lad was renowned for his temper. "You know I have no family Bill, you know damn right I don't…and as for a lady friend, don't make me laugh. Everyone around here knows I screwed my chances up with her, everyone does, so stop talking a load of shit Bill and give us another drink." He said while grabbing his stiff felt Homburg hat from his head, plucking out a one pound paper note from its inside and slamming it down on the table.
This time, the landlord stood his ground, "Now Robin, I think you've had enough to drink for one night, maybe you should get yourself home, sober up a little and come back tomorrow for a drink yeah? You come round here tomorrow and I'll give you a couple of Christmas drinks on the house, yeah?"
"Thanks Bill, that's real kind of you, I really appreciate it mate," Robin said sarcastically while sliding off the barstool and walking, staggering slightly, over to the dartboard. "But I'm staying here, whether you like it or not. I don't need no Christmas drinks on the house from you, you can stick your drinks, but I'm staying here and there's nothing you can, or are going to do about it," he added somewhat aggressively.
Bill, slightly taken aback, recovered himself and said with as much bravado as he could muster, "Listen here Robin, I want you out of here right now or there will be consequences..."
He laughed hollowly at the barman, straightened himself up and said, "And where am I to go, Bill? You'd rather see me spend Christmas alone out on the streets?"
"Come on Robin, of course I don't, its just you don't need to be here drinking yourself to death, you should be at home…"
"Home is no home to me; landlord said if I don't get him the rent by the end of next week, I'm out on my arse. Come on, Bill, why would I want to spend Christmas Eve all by myself in a lonely flat when I could be here, in the warmth, in this atmosphere?"
"That's not my problem Robin…I'm just thinking of you I am," the landlord said gently, doing his best to shift the young man out of his pub.
Robin choked on his mouthful of whiskey and said, once wiping his mouth with his sleeve, "Thinking of me? Thinking of me?! Good God, Bill that has to be a new one!"
"What?" Bill asked somewhat defensively, his confusion evident, "Of course I care about you lad, of course I do!"
"Bill, if you cared about me at all, you wouldn't be throwing me out of your pub."
"Robin, it's nothing personal, it's for your own good."
"And since when has my well being concerned you, Bill?" Robin asked, his voice rising slightly.
At this point, the other punters started to realise that something was going on between the landlord and the local, and all began to turn their attentions away from their conversations and became very interested in what was going on before them.
The barman sighed loudly and said, with as much honesty as he could, "Your father and I were the best of friends, Robin, when he passed away; I knew you needed someone in your life, you and I have always been old friends. You know I'm always here for you,"
"Don't make me laugh, Bill, you have never once been here for me, never. I've needed your help for the past ten years and have I ever had any from you? Of course I haven't."
The barman looked down at his feet shamefaced and lied, "I've always tried to be here for you, Robin, I have tried."
At this point, Robin was on his feet and his voice was raised, "I've needed your help for years, Bill, and I've asked, I really have, but you heard nothing! You ignored whatever I said to you. Five years I've been looking for work, Bill, five years! You know, everywhere I've looked, no one will take me on as a bar singer...nobody will. You're the only one I know who owns a bar, you need a bar singer, but you won't take me on, you know I have talent, Bill, but you never gave me the chance!"
"Robin, I…I, I don't know what to say, I really don't."
"You never know what to say, that's your God damn problem, Bill!" Robin raged at him, his anger all coming out on the poor barman who seemed to accept what he was saying.
"Robin…I'm sorry, I just…" the barman tried apologizing but Robin interrupted.
"You're sorry? Don't make me laugh. You're not sorry. If you were really that sorry, you would have taken me in, Bill, you know that my landlord is desperate for the rent, you know I'm up to my eyeballs in debt with the local lone-sharks, you know I need a job, you're the only one who can give it to me, Bill, and you've never once offered it to me. Some friend eh, Bill? I know why you won't take me on, you're frightened I'll bring shame on you…or screw something up, but friends are meant to have faith in each other, Bill. My old man always had faith in you, and what did he get in return? Nothing. Won't even save his son from being kicked out onto the streets and getting his face broken by local thugs."
Most of the pub had now turned to watch Robin Locksley, the dishy Musician who had a way of serenading young women with his lustful lyrics and sweet tunes, shout aggressively at the quiet, timid landlord, who seemed to be taking everything that Robin threw at him.
"Robin, of course I don't want to see you get your face kicked in, of course I don't…I just knew that if I gave you a job, the money would be used to feed your gambling habit!" Bill said honestly while snapping a bead of sweat from his brow. He was obviously frightened of Robin's temper.
The barman had said the wrong thing.
"MY GAMBLING HABIT?" Robin blasted, the colour in his face turning to a violent shade of puce and his body trembling with fury from head to toe. His hands were clenched into fist, ready to lash out at whoever dared to take him on.
"Hey, why don't you calm down? The guy is only being honest." A porky looking punter who was sitting in the corner with a group of other men, who were all huddled around a small poker table, shouted over at him.
Robin turned on him. "Why don't you just butt out, idiot."
"Oi, who are you calling an idiot?" one of the guy's gambling mates shouted over at him.
Robin pointed to the porky man and spat, "Him!"
"Listen, mate, I think you've had more than enough to drink." A tall, intelligent looking man, who had been leaning over the pool table aiming his queue at the white ball to pot the black number eight ball into the left hand corner of the pool table just minutes before, said.
"I ain't your mate," Robin shouted at him, "And anyway, what do you know?"
"A lot more than you, come on Locksley, lets get you home," the man said sensibly while putting down his queue onto the table then grabbing Robin from under the armpit and trying to walk him out of the bar.
"Back off!" Robin shouted, shoving him hard in the chest. The man stumbled and only just managed to stay on his feet.
"Oi, mate, I'm just trying to help, no need to get like that!" he once regaining his footing.
"Well stick your help. None of you have ever been prepared to help me before, why should I need your help now?" Robin spat while throwing off another pair of hands that tried to help him out.
The porky man that had been absorbed in his gambling just minutes before was now on his feet and he walked towards Robin, ready to grab hold of him and throw him out of the pub.
Once his hands grabbed hold of Robin's arm, Robin's right fist appeared to flash through the air and collided with the man's jaw. He stumbled backwards, out of sight.
"OI!" another bloke shouted and ran forward, throwing a stray punch at Robin, which hit him squarely in the eye. He staggered backwards, blinded momentarily. He shook his head in an attempt to clear his vision, but all he saw was stars. Once having regained his eye-sight Robin charged forward at the man and tackled him onto the pool table. They both rolled around like a pair of wrestlers brawling in mud, both trying to get on top of the other to deliver a safe punch into each other's ribs or face.
Having proven to be the strongest, Robin managed to roll out from underneath the man and climb on top of him and throw a few harsh punches into the blokes face. Satisfied that he had given the man a few good clouts, he backed off a little, only to feel a few pair of strong hands grab hold of him and drag him from the pool table and throw him, which he presumed, over the bar. He rolled over the counter, smashing many glasses on his way and landed very heavily on his left side. Groaning, he tried to heave himself off the floor and brush the broken glass from his side. Immediately he felt another set of strong hands grab him by his trouser braces and hoist him up onto his feet, he was pulled over the bar counter and slugged a few times in the face and ribs.
One drunk man, a few harsh words, a good hard shove in the chest and a stray punch, it didn't take a genius to work out what its result would be. The New York was renowned for its bar brawls, underage drinking and gambling. Tonight, just like most other nights, there was another bar brawl and it wouldn't be long until the pigs were crawling all over the place.
After a few chairs had been smashed over some unfortunate souls head, at least a dozen glasses had been thrown at people and several unconscious bodies lay sprawled on the floor, the cops finally decided to raid the bar and arrest every man that looked brutal enough to be part of a bar brawl. The first of these men to be arrested was the musician, Robin Locksley, who was grabbed by the shoulders by a set of strong hands, his hands were roughly handcuffed behind his back and then, having been hit across the back of his legs with a truncheon, got dragged by the scruff of his shirt out of the pub and thrown into the back of the panda car.
Bloodied and bruised, Robin managed to catch a quick glimpse of Bill, who was standing by the front entrance to his pub looking angrily into the back of the police car at the culprit who had started the fight and had turned his pub into a destroyed battlefield on Christmas Eve.
Robin heard the key turn in the ignition of the old police Ford Anglia and felt the engine grumble slightly as the motor roared into life, and just as quickly as they had come, they left the snowy street of Knighton and set off down the main road that was becoming an inch thicker by the falling snow each minute, to deliver their criminal safely to Nottingham nick that happened to be in the very heart of town centre.
Sitting back in the car, Robin rested his head gently on the leather seating in an attempt to sooth his head from the painful throbbing that was causing his vision to blur. His right eye was half closed, the bruising having fully come out now, and his lip bled lightly, the blood dripping slowly onto his white shirt, which was now no longer white, but heavily stained with blood, dust, sweat and ale.
He sat back in the car and for the first time that night, he was actually able to think straight. Either the effect that the double – whiskeys had had on him had now worn off, or the fact that after the nights events, he had somehow come back to his senses, it remained a mystery to him how quickly he had sobered up and realised what he had gone and landed himself in. Sighing loudly, he came to terms with the fact that he had gone and booked himself a very uncomfortable night in a dingy cell in Nottingham police station. Great.
Several minutes later, or it could have been hours, he wasn't sure, but the one thing that he was sure about was that he was being rudely shaken awake by a tall man, at least six foot tall, in police uniform, and before he knew it, he was being dragged from the uncomfortable leather seating of the panda car, out onto the snowy street, and into the old police station.
The next thing he knew, he was being thrown head first into a dingy looking cell that was already occupied by three other men. Robin heard the door slam behind him as he landed heavily on his front and, once having mustered up as much strength as he could, heaved himself up off his front and rolled over onto his back. He lay there for a few minutes just holding his head tightly in his hands, hoping, perhaps even praying that the thumping headache that was pounding inside his head would just for one second, maybe go away. He opened his eyes, his right eye throbbed softly, he groaned.
Dragging himself up from the cold, damp, stone flooring, he managed to clamber to his feet and actually keep his balance for more than five seconds as he made his way over to the wooden bench that was placed right at the very end of the cell, right underneath the barred window.
Slumping down onto the wooden bench, he snapped off the braces on his trousers and kicked off his beetle boots in an attempt to get comfortable. He was going to be there for a long time, he knew it, and he might as well make himself at home and get as comfortable as he possibly could because he knew from past experiences just how uncomfortable spending a night in a prison cell could be when you were sleeping off a binge.
"Aye, good idea that, get yourself comfy for the night mate…" said a thick accented young man from the dark corner of the cell, he was sitting on the floor with his legs spread out in front of him, his back up against the wall, his head lolling from side to side. The man was pissed.
Robin took in the sight of him in one sweeping glance. He was perhaps around average height, normal weight, his brown trousers were patched, his shirt sleeves were rolled up to above his elbows, his brown waistcoat was unbuttoned, his brown – sandy coloured hair was slightly tousled and he had a small growth of facial hair. He looked dishonest and, if Robin was completely honest and perhaps slightly hypocritical, he looked totally wasted.
He decided to ignore him, and instead, he turned his face away from him and pressed his cheek against the cool, stone wall. He found it slightly soothing, the coldness of the stones slowly soothing his sore head. It sent him into a long, peaceful thought, which was rudely interrupted by the drunken young man again.
"My name's Alan," he said cheerfully, hiccoughing just as he managed to get his name out. "And this is young Will Scarlett," he informed Robin while pointing towards a lifeless yet very tall and slim form that seemed to be unconscious on the floor.
Robin watched the man with disinterest as he introduced himself and his unconscious pal to him. He wasn't in the slightest interested and instead of striking up a conversation with the lad, he adjusted his Homburg hat to cover his eyes.
"And that over there…the big fella', that's John Little, but I'm calling him Little John. So tell me, how come you been thrown in here?" Robin continued to ignore him and pretended to fall asleep. "Say, fella, you don't talk much do you?"
Annoyed, Robin opened his eyes and turned to face the young man, "Leave me alone will you?"
The man called Alan chuckled softly and said, while scratching his chin as in deep in thought, "I'm guessin' you don't wanna' be 'ere right?"
Robin looked at him in disbelief and, once having noticed that the guy was completely serious, turned to him and said sarcastically, "You know, you really should try and make something of that brain of yours, you're very intelligent."
Alan shrugged off the sarcastic remark and continued, "So, you gonna' tell me how come you're in 'ere for the night or am I gonna' have to guess?"
"Why don't you try guessing, you seem good at that." Was Robin's only reply.
The young man eyed him thoughtfully, and after a few moments of staring at Robin's bruised eye, busted knuckles and the blood and ale stains on his shirt, he finally came to a conclusion. "Judgin' by the blood stains and busted knuckles, I'd say that you had been fightin' mate,"
Robin clapped his hands heartily and replied, "Not just a pretty face eh?"
At this remark, Alan seemed confused and instead of questioning Robin about what he was talking about, he decided to push on with the conversation and instead asked him to go into detail about his scraping.
"Sooo, been thrown in here for scraping…excellent. Who was the fella you nailed?"
Robin rolled his eyes, there was no way he would get to sleep if this kid kept yapping, so instead, he turned to face him and decided to answer a few of his questions. "There was more than one "fella" and I didn't nail anyone, it was a bar brawl. The pigs broke it up before anything got out of hand."
"Aaah right, I see…cool. So you were the unfortunate one that got canned I suppose?"
"Aye, you could say that." Robin replied. "So, what's the reason to why you are in here?"
Alan sighed loudly before picking up his legs and hugging them closely to his chest. "Stealin' mate. Pinched a few bits and bobs from a shop, few pigs on duty, threw me straight into here they did, just my luck init, especially on Christmas Eve."
"What did you steal for in the first place? Surely you knew if you got caught, there would be consequences?"
"Forgot didn't I? Times are hard, mate, and my wife, she's havin' a baby, she must eat or she'll lose the baby."
Watching him intently, Robin snorted loudly. Was this guy for real? Did he really think that Robin believed these bare-faced lies? "I think you should quit while you're ahead Alan, no point in lying to me, I can tell when someone's lying to me."
Instead of looking shamefaced or even guilty that he had been caught lying, he simply laughed like a young schoolboy and then asked, "so, you gonna' tell me your name or is it a mystery?"
"My names Robin, Robin Locksley."
"Alan, Alan a Dale, nice to meet you," he said with a toothy grin.
"And what did you say his name was again?" Robin asked, pointing to the young man lying on the floor, sleeping.
"That's Will Scarlett, my best mate he is."
"And why's he in here?"
"Got caught with me didn't he? Was his idea in the first place to go nicking things from shops."
Robin took in the innocent looking, boyish face of the young Will Scarlett and said with a chuckle to Alan, "Somehow I find that hard to believe."
Alan ignored this comment and pushed on with his questions, "What you do for a livin' mate?"
Before he could stop himself, the words, "I'm a musician," blurted out of his mouth and, once having said them, he added bitterly, "Well, a musician that barely gets any gigs or work,"
"Shit life?" Alan asked him interestedly, "Join the gang. I'm a blacksmith, did an apprenticeship with my old man when I was a young lad, thought it would set me up for life, obviously not. Not many people need a blacksmith around here nowadays."
Robin wasn't interested in what the other man said and decided to rest his head against the stone wall once again. He could feel the headache coming back, and if he was right, it was going to come back with a vengeance. He closed his eyes and let the coldness of the wall sooth him into another peaceful train of thoughts until…
"Did you say you were a musician?" came Alan's voice again.
Robin's eyes snapped open, "Yes," he answered irritably while settling into the comfort of his personal thoughts once again.
"I could have been a musician you know…aye, would have made a good musician me." Alan said more to himself than to anyone else.
"Goodnight Alan," Robin said, obviously annoyed and closed his eyes again.
"Goodnight Robin and a Merry Christmas to you mate,"
"Aye, a very Merry Christmas to you too," he grumbled under his breath while shifting into a comfier position on the wooden bench.
"You know, my last Christmas this mate…won't see another one."
Frustrated and annoyed that this young man wouldn't leave him alone, Robin tried his best to think happy thoughts before he ended up pouncing on the man and wrapping his hands around his throat and making sure that he didn't leave go until he was certain that the man couldn't talk again, or even breathe for that matter.
Just as everything had fallen quiet and peaceful, Robin's first thoughts were that maybe annoying old Alan had finally got bored of the sound of his own voice and had fallen asleep, but then, as if to prove that nothing got rid of him so quickly, Alan burst out into song which happened to be the favourite Irish drinking Ballad, "The Rare Old Mountain Due".
"And we'll give you the slip as we take a sip of the rare old mountain due!" seemed to be the only part of the lyrics that he did actually know and after repeating that line about five times, Robin, who was trying hard to control his temper, turned his face away and dreamed about her.
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A/N: I decided to give Robin the role of MacGowan and Marian the role of MacColl, although we haven't seen Marian yet!
Yes, Robin's a drunk, a druggie and a gambler, but I think it would be kind of cute that he went off the rails after his woman left him. Lets see hmmm…
Btw, I'm hoping that I can finish this short story for Christmas, seeing as it's a Christmas story.
I'm putting ALL stories on hold just for this and because I have a busy time ahead. I'm afraid I don't get round to writing much fan fiction anymore. What with all the coursework I get, I've started my new job five weeks ago and I've been doing my mocks, it doesn't leave much time for writing, and although I've finished school today, I don't have much of a Christmas Holidays to write because I happen to be going on a skiing holiday on Boxing Day.
Another thing, this time last year was about the same time as I joined fan fiction and I remember writing a Harry Potter fic about Sirius Black which was somewhat Christmassy. Anyway, hope you enjoy this and leave plenty of reviews. Let me know what you all think!