Title: In Dreams
Blurb: An alternate ending to the season 2 finale.
Spoilers? Season 2 finale
Rating: PG
One-shot/Multi-chapter/Drabble? This can stand alone as a one-shot, but I have a few other ideas that can lead on from this, depending on how this chapter is received!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything, so please don't sue. A few lines have been taken from the finale, which I do not claim ownership of.

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"Stop. It's over, Guy."

"Get out of the way."

"All this time I have been fighting for England – do you think I'm going to let you kill England?"

"Get out of the way, Marian!"

"You'll have to kill me first."

"No. We're going to get out of this. I am going to do this thing and then I'll have power beyond measure, and we will be together."

"I would rather die than be with you, Guy of Gisborne."

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Her words were spoken with a malice that had been suppressed by his authority and a corrupt agenda; months of frustration laced her words as she watched his wounded pride dance across his features, his hand gripping his sword as she took a few more steps back to the aid of her King.

"I'm going to marry Robin Hood," she said, her face alit with a gleeful realisation that she was finally brave enough to speak to aloud. "I love Robin Hood."

Though her audience should have been Robin, who her thoughts flickered to at that moment, instead she was met with Guy and an injured King – a King who would soon be murdered without her intervention. She had supposed she could reason with Guy, risk her luck one more time and count on his feelings towards her, and yet she had still fallen fool to her hostility towards him.

"I love Robin Hood," she repeated, laughing, as if to reaffirm the words to herself.

A declaration of love to Hood was an unbearable one to Guy; he would have rather seen her dead than to see Robin, a filthy outlaw, take her hand in marriage. Grabbing her he went to plunge his sword through her middle, but arrows flew before he could deliver the deadly blow. Momentarily distracted by the coming outlaws, Marian pulled herself from his grip, though still not far enough to get away unscathed. His sword had pieced her side, and her face clouded with confusion as her staggered steps backwards hit the stone well.

If she ever had the chance to recall this moment she would remember the speed in which time sped. She would remember Robin, panic-stricken as he lowered her down to floor, compressing the bleeding as best he could. She would remember Much, ever loyal and endearing Much, fearful and fidgety as he tried to decide whether to aid the wounded or go in pursuit of the Sheriff and Guy. Mostly she would remember Robin's shouts to Djaq to help her instead of the King, leaving her unable to ever question his loyalty and love towards her in the future - if she ever had such a future. Oh, she hoped she did. She hoped that her recklessness would not have her leave this world without Robin, without ever having the chance to truly be with him without false faces to the public and authority. She had far too much to say and do; and though she would do it all again if it meant the King lived, she hoped that she would have more time – to be there when England became strong again and when the King returned to rebuild the shattered lives of the people.

"Am I beyond even Djaq's healing talents?"

"Do not talk like that, love," Robin said, taking her hand and moving to allow for Djaq to inspect the wound. Her face was grave, though her hands were fast moving and persistent.

"I've fixed you once before, have I not?" Djaq replied, but her voice was too forced, her laugh too hitched, to carry any nonchalance that had been intended. The situation was grave and there was so much she still needed to say.

"So where were we?" she said, forcing her voice to sound light against the pain. He didn't respond, so she continued. "The last time we were dying we were in the middle of getting married."

"You are not going to die," he replied, squeezing her hand and caressing the side of her face. "You are going to get better; Djaq is going to heal you, and then we will go back to Nottingham to marry."

"In the forest?"

"Wherever your heart wishes," he said, smiling lightly as he forced back the tears that tinged his eyes.

"I'd like to marry in the forest; I don't suppose we would be allowed to marry in Locksley church," she mused.

"If you wish to marry in Locksley church, then we will marry there," he said, his voice strong and unwavering; she knew he would find some way to make such a thing happen if that was her heart's desire. He was, after all, accustomed to making the impossible a reality.

"In a white dress. Simple and beautiful, just like the forest," she spoke, her mind losing coherence with the damage done. Robin swallowed back his feelings as he looked down at her dress, once simple and elegant, now soaked in her blood and dirt. To him she was still beautiful.

"The for--" but her words were banished with a violent cry. Instantly Robin's eyes shot to Djaq and the wound, which was bleeding more heavily under the quick manoeuvrings and lack of medical instruments.

"I can't help her here; I need the correct equipment," she instructed, tugging off her scarf and pressing it firmly onto the bleeding. "We go to Bassam, and it must be quickly." A look passed between Djaq and Robin at her last words; he knew they were running out of time in which to save her.

"Much, Allan – go with the King to his camp and raise the alarm," Robin said, before giving demands to John and Will.

"Go ahead of us and make sure we aren't intercepted," he told them, lifting Marian against her cries. "Now!"

They all fled through the narrow, dusty streets, checking the corners at every turn and hoping against hope that they would not run into soldiers. Where as Robin wanted nothing more than to inflict as much pain as he physically could on any ally to the Sheriff, he needed to suppress his vengeance for the opportune moment. Carrying Marian, heavily bleeding and losing consciousness, was not the time for fighting – in the bow and arrow sense, at least.

"Robin," Marian said, her voice feeble and her face drained of colour. "Where is the King?"

"You saved him," Robin said, in fast pursuit of Djaq.

"I did?" she replied, her head weakly falling against the crook of his neck. "England is saved?"

"Yes.You saved England."

He could not hear her response, as it fell from her muffled with a loss of consciousness as they entered the home of Bassam. There was no time to explain the situation to him as they placed Marian on the table, and Djaq began shouting for things of use. Robin was pushed back from her wounded area as Djaq began work, aided by Bassam.

Hours passed as Djaq halted the bleeding and did the best she could with the time and instruments available, though when she had finally finished even she did not know whether her work would have been enough to save dear Marian.

"Only time will tell," she said as the servants began to move Marian over to the comfort of a bedroom. "The bleeding is stopped for the moment. Bassam has given her some herbal remedies, powerful and effective if given in time. I think we may have tended to her in time, Robin, but she must rest."

"Thank you." His response was hoarse and weak, though heartfelt and genuine. He followed as Marian was rested in a bed of silks, and closed the door as the servants left.

She looked so weak and small in the grandness of such a room, and his need to protect her would not allow him to sleep, let alone stay anywhere but at her side. He rested himself beside her, careful to not disturb her wound, and simply watched her. She was delicate and so easily breakable, no matter how hard she tried to dispute such a statement. She shouldn't have been there; she shouldn't have been fighting this battle, but her stubbornness and strong heart, both which he valued in her, would not allow her to play the damsel in distress. She had to fight, just as much as he did. They were warriors at war, tied together by a common goal and an unmistakable love and respect for the other.

The tears that had been pleaded for release upon seeing her fall – tears of pain, of fear and of anguish - finally got their way. He had been so preoccupied with telling Marian that she would be fine that he hadn't consider the consequences. He couldn't lose her, that much he was sure of. He couldn't fight or live without her there to help him, to love him. He needed her far more than any one could comprehend, and it pained him that they were so close to being together, to being man and wife, and yet it could all be torn away from him.

"I'm supposed to be the reckless, foolish one," he said to her. "Where was your caution today?"

He wasn't angry at her, truly he wasn't – frustrated, perhaps, but not angry. If he was honest, he blamed himself for her predicament. If he had followed the King more quickly, or if he hadn't done countless other things that led Marian to the Holy Land, then perhaps she wouldn't have been so close to death. Even now, no matter how he valued Djaq's abilities, there was still an uncertainty in the air that said that she might not make it to dawn.

As much as he hated to think of such a tragedy, he promised himself that if it would he her last night, then he would be there to view every second of it. He would fuse everything to his memory - her dark, thick hair that he relished in touching in his younger days; the porcelain softness of her unblemished skin; her once pink lips that were now dry and pale, yet always tempting for a union with his own.

"Please wake, my love," he whispered, placing a final kiss to her forehead. "I can't fight this battle alone."

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Marian spent several days in a restless and tormented stupor; she only woke for a few short moments, all of which were taken advantage of to give her more of the remedies that Bassam prized. In those moments two sets of eyes met each other, one confused and one relieved to see life, before they disappeared in a flurry of antidotes, lost words and an uneven sleep.

Robin had only left her side for a handful of minutes over the last four days, and only then it was against his better judgement. He had insisted that someone stayed with her whenever he had to leave - Much was more than willing to make himself of use. Djaq had said that she was pleased with her progress, though Robin could only see a few short moments of life before his love fell victim to her wounds. He was impatience, but it was Marian and he felt he had a right for impatience and uneasiness, though he had to quench the reckless side of him that planned his attack against the Sheriff – or rather, Guy Gisbourne.

As he entered her room, Much was chattering about pigeons.

"I know they're messengers, and talented ones at that, but they aren't the most pleasant of creatures to have around when you're preparing food," he complained. "Then there's the mess, not to mention the smell! I tell you, I'll think twice before complaining about cooking conditions in the forest – at least we manage to keep most of the vermin out. And there's an--Robin!"

At least one person was constant in such foreboding times. It was endearing trait of Much's and was one that Robin found amusing most of the time. His old friend, ever loyal and present, could ramble about birds all he wanted; he was simply glad that Marian was not alone for any space of the day or night.

"Pigeons?"

"Djaq said trying to engage her helps," Much argued.

"Yes, but pigeons?" Robin said, slightly amused.

"I'm sure Marian appreciates su--"

"Appreciation of pigeons?" came a voice that had not graced their presence for too long.

"Marian!"

"See! It worked! I take it all back! Pigeons are wonderful creatures - they can smell and make as much mess as they like!" said Much, enthusiastically.

Robin was at her side quicker than the arrows that left his bow in combat. She hadn't said anything, not even in those moments of some coherence, for four whole days. He had noticed a gradual colour draining back into her cheeks and lips, though she still looked rather weak in comparison to her robust norm.

"Am I supposed to understand?" she said, grimacing a little as she readjusted her position on the bed. Much had already left the room, shouting praises of pigeons, followed by a ruffle of feathers and a cry of irritation (there was a cried, "I take it all back –again!" before the atmosphere quietened in the other opposing room).

"Understanding the usefulness of pigeons?" Robin contemplated. "Only if you're Much."

She cracked a smile at that, and took a few moments to gather her bearings of her surroundings. It was all still hazy to her, which she supposed was understandable given the circumstances. She was just lucky to be alive, or at least that was the general message she had received when Djaq entered, bringing a tray of food for both Marian and Robin.

"Any discomfort?" she asked, before reassessing what she had said. "Aside from the sword wound, of course."

"A little sore, I suppose, but nothing out of the ordinary," Marian replied, deciding an honest approach would be best. She had felt worse pain, that much she was sure. At least this time she woke to silks and finery instead of a damp cave.

"Out of the ordinary," Djaq repeated, shaking her head at such a statement.

"Well, it's not my first war wound," she replied, light-heartedly, causing Robin to tense. Djaq took that as her cue to leave, though not before leaving the remainder of the medicines that needed to be taken after she had eaten.

"You should not speak so lightly of what you have just been through," Robin reprimanded, though it hardly had a force behind it.

"I lived through it and have the right to speak of it as I choose," Marian countered.

He grinned. She was back.

"You have no idea how happy I am to hear you say that," he said, and without waiting for a rebuttal he moved in to press his lips gently against hers. He would savour every moment of it - her slow uptake to his action; the way she fitted perfectly into his embrace; her usual scent of woody, English scents now mingling with spices and foreign herbal extracts, creating an intoxicating combination that drew him closer to her. Oh, and her gorgeous, luscious hair as he ran his hands through it. She was perfect to him – for him.

As he pulled away he placed more kisses across her cheeks, her forehead and moved his hands slowly up either side of her neck, before resting on the side of her cheeks.

"I've missed you," he said, the intensity in his eyes taking as much of her in as he could possibly muster.

"I didn't miss you," she said, confusion coating his features at that. She took one of his hands in hers and placed a kiss in the palm. "You were with me all the time. Your voice was guiding me back."

His words of comfort, of love, were always in her dreams; his words helped make them less restless and aimless. No matter how distant her mind was from reality, he was always there with her, ushering her away from the darker corners of her mind.

"My beautiful, beautiful," she continued, placing kisses between each word to his palm, "Robin Hood."

He thanked the heavens that he had his Marian back, and there was no man on this earth that would ever have the chance to take her away from him. He would make sure of that.

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