SURPRISE! I still have quite a few stories left in me to tell. For some reason my inspiration to write RH fic has yet to dry up and I doubt it will for quite some time. This story is quite different from Northern Star or The Storyteller for reasons probably best left unexplained for now. I know that I put supernatural down as one of the genres for this fic. Don't let that deceive you it isn't really about magic.....or is it? You'll just have to read and find out.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN ROBIN HOOD! But, oh, if I did...

Notes: This is AU. For reasons you are about to discover.

More Notes: ANOTHER OC FIC? Yup. Guy can never have too many women; and although it breaks Bryony's and Lynna's dear little hearts....there is yet another woman coming to join them in their OC ranks. Cue the ensuing cat-fight. XD Now without further rambling, enjoy the new story, all!


Oh, Morpheus, give me joy till morning
For my forever painful love:
Just blow out candles' burning
And let my dreams in blessing move.
Let from my soul disappear
The separation's sharp rebuke!
And let me see that dear look,
And let me hear voice that dear.
And when will vanish dark of night
And you will free my eyes at leaving,
Oh, if my heart would have a right
To lose its love till dark of evening!

~Morpheus; Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin

I

Lies in the Sand

The desert is alive and all who live and travel across it will tell you it moves with the force of a living being. It protects, it shields and it is capable of love in its purest form. It holds secrets and whispers them back to the lonely wanderer if they care to listen. In the night it grows cold with loneliness and it stares up to the moon as if yearning to take a little of that light for its own. The desert breathes, and sighs, and moans, and sees sights that no mortal does.

The desert also lies. It does not betray, but it protects those who seek shelter in its sandy arms. Its rough embrace is harsh, but strong. The desert moved that night under the crescent moon. Grains of sand tumbled down small dunes and shook like the mane of a great and hidden lion.

Arms reached down into the sand and pulled forth a hidden treasure. The wooden casket was simple but inside was another matter. With the lid removed a drop of life was poured into the casket's contents. There was silence as the desert howled in anticipation. It's moans were met with a great, loud gasp. The desert grew still; one of its secrets revealed.

"C-c-c-cold." A voice whimpered to the desert.

"Lie still." Came a soothing voice, a voice which the desert recognized as one of its children.

"H-h-hurts..." The first voice whispered.

"Do you know who I am?" The desert voice asked.

There was silence again before an answer arrived. "Y-y-yes..."

"That is well." A blanket was given to the trembling form in the casket. "I am going to move you now."

There came a great cry as the desert child lifted the secret from the casket; exerting great effort in the process. "Be brave, my friend; we shall be home soon."

"Robin!" The voice said with another cry before going limp as it faded into a sweet unconsciousness.

The desert child traveled away from the sight of the burial ground. The sand shifted beneath her feet as if giving way to let her pass. The night air was chill and she only wore a simple cloak for protection; but the desert seemed to recognize its own and let the woman travel unharmed and undisturbed.

The night city was peaceful. There were lamps in windows still burning and aglow. Soldiers in ally ways that were to be avoided; but the woman steered away from danger. The bundle in her arms was heavy and troublesome to hold, but precious in its value. The desert does not give up its treasures easily, this was a secret which must survive.

Her footsteps were growing slower and sluggish. The night was getting colder as it grew deeper into darkness. Home would be an oasis; home would be a paradise. There was a lamp still aglow in the second story window. The lamp was for her to guide her back where she belonged like a lost dove in flight.

The woman carried her burden to the doorstep and knocked three times: twice in quick succession and once more after counting out four beats. The door opened, light fell upon her and she could already feel its warmth reach down into her bones. Even the treasure in her arms shuddered to it and seemed to sigh in slight comfort.

"She is alive?" The man in the doorway asked quietly.

"Just. She has slept well; though and the draught to slow her heart stilled the bleeding. I must work quickly." The woman said as she came into the warm glow.

"The bed is prepared." The man relieved her of her burden and carried the treasure into the next room.

It was a simple room, with two lamps on either side and a small cot near the corner wall. A basin of warm water and a basket of cloths were already positioned next to the bed. Needle and string also sat waiting and a satchel containing herbs and medicine was strung up on a small stake over the bed.

The man lay the treasure down upon the cot. The woman eased up; head lolling to one side in pain and exhaustion.

"Will she live?" The man asked.

"I have already told Robin she died once to save her life. I will not see my efforts wasted this night." The desert child said fiercely. "She will live for me and my promise alone, if anything."

"Work your magic, my love." The man said kissing her partially to comfort her and partially to ease his own anxiety.

"There is no magic in medicine only bandages and hope." The woman replied. "Leave me to it, Will."

"I am just beyond the door if you need me." Will replied.

"It will be a long night." The woman warned.

"As long as you are awake I will be as well." Will said stubbornly, shutting the door as he left.

The woman sighed and turned to her patient whose eyelids fluttered between a state of dreaming and of wakefulness. The desert child placed a hand upon her shoulder. "If you can hear me. Be brave yet. This will be painful for you and I have nothing to ease it."

"When has...pain....scared me...Djaq?" The woman said in between great heaving gasps.

"Indeed. What was I thinking in warning you?" The desert woman, Djaq, said with a smile. She began to cut away at the cloth surrounding the great wound near the woman's belly.

Congealed blood covered most of the wound, and Djaq had to dab at it with a wet cloth to loosen the crusting areas. She had to work fast; the draught she had given the woman to slow her heart beat for a time was no longer viable. As the heart pumped at full force so the blood would begin to flow again. And the wound was now lying open.

Once the dried blood was wiped, Djaq stuck two of her fingers into the open wound. She felt for the damaged flesh and torn entrails. She could feel the gash upon her stomach like the ripped seam of cloth. Needle now in hand she battled with the blood and life force of the woman to close the wounds inside her first, a knowledge only known to some of the desert's own, another secret hidden from the world.

The woman, at first tried to stifle her screams of pain, but it became impossible. Her very insides were aflame as she felt the needle pierce the sensitive flesh of her insides. It seemed never ending and when she could no longer stand the pain she felt as if her very soul left her to drift about beyond in a restful place away from the biting pain of the needle.

Where Djaq's world swam in blood and red the other woman drifted on a plane of gray and black. She saw a man in green with a bow slung on his back and a merry glimmer in his eyes. She saw love there and home. She would get back to him. She felt that burn in her more than the pain of the needle. And there was another man in her mind's eye. Clothed as black as night and as dark as hell. He wore a sword at his side and his eyes were clouded in anger and hate. Color swirled before her; pain and loss and disappointment surrounded him. Her hatred went deeper then she thought, he nearly took her life and love away from her; but her guilt went deep as well; deep as the needle closing the wounds inside.

Someone else wandered the darkened plains of her soul. There was a woman shrouded in mist. Her back was turned towards her and she could not see her face. She wore a gray hood and she stood tall and solemn against the mist. She heard words in her head, but there was no voice. Do you know me?

And she was back. With a gasp she let out a healthy scream. Djaq was sewing the outside of her wound together now. She felt a soothing salve rubbed along the tattered skin and she sighed. It cooled the fire there and brought her relief from pain.

"And now you may sleep a while." Djaq said, rubbing the sweat from her own brow as she cinched her satchel closed.

"Will I...wake?" The woman asked.

"I do not know." Djaq said and she seemed to be concealing a sob.

The woman sighed, but winced as the breath stung the stitches within. "I saw Robin..."

"You will see him again, yet." Djaq replied soothingly.

"Where is...he?" The woman said, her breath hitching in her throat as she swallowed another wave of agony.

Djaq paused. Should she tell her that he was bound back to England? That she had lied, and given her up for dead in order to buy her time so that she might be healed later? The desert howled beyond the window, blowing the lamp light about so that the shadows danced around like guardian angels, watching the wounded woman in her labored breathing. Not yet. The desert seemed to breathe; not yet.

"He is near." Djaq whispered, "And worried."

The woman coughed, winced in mid sighing-laughter and eased back upon the cot. "So typical of that man....should have known you could have saved me after all."

"Rest now, I will tell him that...that he need not worry for you." Djaq said with a watery smile. She stood up; her legs stiff and shaky as she had been resting on her knees for nearly an hour and a half in her efforts to save the woman's life.

"Djaq." The woman called out once more.

Djaq turned around again, gently, her calm eyes blinking in curious acknowledgement. The shadowy glow of the room hid the tears already falling from those kind and calculating eyes.

"Tell him I love him." The woman said.

"I will." Djaq said softly, fearing her voice would give way at any moment.

"And Djaq, thank you. I thought I truly was going to die...you have given me a second chance...both me and Robin....thank you..." She was fading into the stillness and comfort of the black sleep of the near dead. She said no more after that.

Djaq stood in silence for a moment before leaving the woman to her rest. She left the door to the room opened, as if this gave her comfort. There would be no rest of her tonight. She would come often to check on the injured woman; how could she sleep knowing that there was one who lay side by side with Death.

"How is she?" Will asked as she emerged from the room.

"On the edge." Djaq grunted, swatting at her eyes in irritation that they should be so damp.

"But she will live?" Will asked again, more nervous that previous.

"Pray to your God that she does, and I will pray to mine. That is all we can do for her now." Djaq whispered.

Will took Djaq into his arms, feeling her give way to her tears. She sobbed against him, drawing him close; in need of his warmth, in need of his comfort. "Have I done right?" She hissed through her tears. "I lied to her. I lied to Robin."

"But you saved her life." Will hushed, "That is redemption enough."

"There is no redemption for this lie. No amount of penance can undo what I have done." Djaq cried.

"Robin will forgive you once we bring her home." Will said, rocking her back and forth slowly.

"I will never forgive myself." Djaq said. "The look on his face when I said she was dead...." She shuddered in the horror of the memory.

Will was silent for a time; not knowing what else to say to comfort her. He let her cry out her tears and perhaps that was best. When there were no more tears left to be shed he spoke again, "You should rest as well, love. You said yourself, we have done all we can do."

"No. No I must not sleep. If she wakes in the night...I must be there." Djaq said, finally removing herself from Will's arms.

"Then I will stay with you." Will said adamantly.

"Why?" Djaq asked.

"Because you want me to, even if you won't admit it." Will said, kissing her cheek.

"You know me altogether too well, Will Scarlett." Djaq sighed, "Although I do not deserve it. I have separated a couple lately wed; is it fair you should still be beside me?"

"I would be here even if you weren't deserving." Will remarked. "But I wish you would not blame yourself for this."

"I could have done more. I could not have lied." Djaq said.

"And kept Robin and the others here where they would be in constant danger? My love, you did more than right in giving them purpose to leave back for England to fight the Sheriff and the Black Knights. Do not doubt yourself."

"I am full of doubt even when I am at my most surest." Djaq retorted. "Sit by me, Will. The night is fading fast."

They sat side by side upon the floor, their backs to the wall nearest the opening to the room were the woman lay sleeping. "The morning will be better." Will whispered to Djaq as she rested her head upon his shoulder. Djaq could not argue with him. The morning light would reveal things to her that the darkness of night would never dare to.

She stared mournfully into the dim room. Asleep, the injured woman was at peace, and for all of their sakes, Djaq prayed, she hoped her dreams were good ones.

***

The dreams of the dying are nearly as those of the dead, only the colors are muted and the sound is endlessly blank. The land is barren and there are no angels singing, only the constant silence. One could wander endlessly here for it is peaceful in its darkened way. One could forget where one was bound or where one has come from in the black silence.

Again there came a cloaked and hooded woman and she seemed to wander with purpose through the misting, perpetual night of the dreamscape. You are lost. She said without sound. You would do well to turn around.

Here the injured woman was not in pain. She stared curiously at the hooded and faceless figure. "Who are you?" She asked aloud.

Go home. The hooded figure gestured wildly.

"Home is far and it is quiet here." The woman sighed, looking about, but not certain if she looked up or down.

You will never get out if you stay. The hooded figure seemed to say.

"You wander here." The woman insisted.

I dream, and you are in it. The hooded figure said.

"But surely this is my dream. You are not real." The woman gasped.

Go home, or you will wander here forever. The hooded figure seemed to be drifting away, but quickly she reached out and gave the woman a prod in her side. Go home! She warned again, this time her jab was far more brutal and the woman winced.

Go home! The words were still echoing in her head as the woman started awake with a sharp cry as fire raced through her abdomen, but Djaq was there, bathing her forehead with cool water. She heard her speak, but could not understand her words. Everything was on fire, her very bones were aching with a pain hitherto unknown to man. She closed her eyes and dreamed again.

This time there was no hooded woman or peaceful darkness. She felt as if she was adrift at sea. She could very nearly feel the wind upon her face as she rocked to and fro upon the prow of some great ship. A man stood out in the rain and his face was soaked from the rain, the sea spray, and tears. How she knew this she did not know, but she could feel sorrow radiate out of the man. The face of the man was beloved; she recognized it right away. "Robin!" she shouted.

The man did not turn. He remained stoic and staring out to sea, muttering something under his breath, his lips barely parting. "Marian...Marian..." over and over again, like a prayer, like a plea.

"I am here! I am here!" She wailed, arms outstretched.

But she wasn't there; for her dreams bore her on again, much like the raging winds sweeping the ship upon the open sea. She was back under the sands of the desert, sleeping in her coffin. She could hear a storm above rage as the sand swept along. The desert was burying her alive. The desert was keeping her secret. The desert seemed to hush her. It was singing a lullaby.

Her body throbbed in pain and she tossed and turned about in her little coffin. Half in a panic and half in an ever impatient quest for comfort and rest. She could hear herself crying out somewhere, but it was distant. She curled up, attempting to blot out the pain racing through her very soul.

Marian...Marian....

The cry came upon the wind of the desert. Tears fell down her face, "I am here..." she whispered brokenly, "I am here..."

And she slept at last in her little corner of life and death; and the desert howled ever onward.


Morpheus is the Greek God of Dreams. Greek mythology plays a heavy role in this fic, so I will be posting side notes on it as need dictates. :)

And about the fic, what do you think? How's it sounding? Interested enough to read the forthcoming second chapter? Do review and tell me what you think; you know I love hearing from you all! :)