Thanks to everyone who's reviewed, it's very encouraging. :) Have another chapter, because I have it and I spoil you :P Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Not mine.

"Bertrand!" The moment Robin got within sight of the cell, he broke into a run, almost dropping the keys in his haste. "Bertrand, it's alright, I'm letting you out. It was all a stupid trick, I promise, you're safe. You're safe here with me." By the time he finished speaking, he had the cell door open and was dropping to his knees beside his lover, who was kneeling against the wall, bound at wrists and ankles and shaking like a leaf. "B, look at me. I need to know you know it's me, so you don't freak out when I untie you."

Bertrand didn't move, and Robin took a deep, calming breath he hadn't needed in years, surprised to notice that Bertrand was breathing too, shallow and uneven.
"B. B, listen, love. You don't have to turn round, just... I'm going to put my hand on the wall where you can see it, alright? And then I'm gonna look away." Very slowly, he placed his left hand on the wall and turned his head away. He gave it a few seconds, allowing Bertrand's curiosity to overtake his fear, then spoke again, softly, gently. "You picked out this ring for me, when you asked me to stay with you forever. Do you remember?" There was no verbal response, just a tiny choked sob. "Love, I'm going to turn around again, OK? And I'm gonna undo the rope, and then we can go home. We'll get you back in your own-" he hesitated for a fraction of a second, listening to Bertrand's laboured, panicky breathing, "-bed. Your own bed, and you can snuggle up to the teddies and I'll make you a cup of tea, or anything you like. Just... I'm turning round now, alright?"

He moved slowly, noticing as he did so that Bertrand's face was turned very slightly towards his hand, though his eyes were closed again. He stayed on his knees and very carefully reached out to untie the rope. He wished his Dad hadn't taught every boy in Stokely to tie such good knots, now. Fortunately, for all Jonno's talent, Robin was fairly skilled in untying the things, though it had been a while. A minute or so, and a whimper from Bertrand that made Robin's heart ache, and Robin was slipping the bonds from Bertrand's hands.
"See, love, you're free, you're alri-" Before he could finish his sentence, Bertrand had flipped over into a sitting position and was lunging towards his neck, clearly intent on strangling his would-be rescuer.

Bertrand rolled with difficulty off of his knees, sitting up and lurching forwards, intent on incapacitating his captor somehow – but then he saw him. Robin. Oh, he was beautiful, so beautiful, and Bertrand's. Somehow, even here, he had found a way to save him. Somehow, Robin was here.

His fingers seemed to divert from their murderous quest without direction from him, moving instead to caress the nape of the younger man's neck.
"Robin." Suddenly, the truth of the situation came back to him, as Robin freed him from the rope at his feet and he could move again. "The slayers – you're OK?"
"I'm fine, B, it's-"
"They've done something to Vlad, they took over, I thought the Truce-"
"Shhh, no. They haven't. Do you know what day it is?" He didn't see why it mattered, but Robin's hands were on his face now, soothing, stroking, and he could answer the question if it meant they stayed there for a few more seconds.
"...Monday. March the 31st," he concluded after a moment's thought, and Robin pressed a kiss to his forehead.
"No, love, it's not. You landed a few minutes after midnight, according to Vlad, who's probably still sat in our library looking stupid." He frowned; Vlad was OK, that was good, that was a start, but what did the date have to do with it?

Robin could see that Bertrand hadn't quite caught up yet – a sign in itself of how distressed his lover was – so he focused on gently brushing away the tears from the older vampire's face.

"Don't be angry, love, I came as soon as I found out... This, whatever they told you about the slayers, whatever they did... it was a joke. An April Fool's joke." He braced himself for an explosion, or even for Bertrand to collapse into his arms out of sheer relief. What he didn't expect was for Bertrand's shoulders to tense even further.
"A... a joke?" Robin nodded.
"I'm sorry, love. Just a joke."

For a moment, Bertrand looked as if he was having difficulty speaking, wide blue eyes filled with horror.
"They saw me like this for a joke?" Robin pulled him into his arms, then, relieved when his husband let him.
"Shhhh, it's OK. It's OK. None of them know what happened to you, and we're going to wait until you're calm and then walk out of here like we were just playing along, turning the joke on them. OK? Do you think you can deal with that?" The arms that wrapped around him squeezed a fraction tighter than usual, and Robin could only wait for an answer.
"Not yet. Not... you're sure everything's alright? This is all... a trick?"
"I promise, Bertrand. If the slayers have gone mental and taken over the joint, it's happened since I came in here two minutes ago."

There was a pause as Bertrand processed this and Robin realised how monumentally stupid he had been to say it. Then Bertrand was standing, shaky but capable of walking, and holding a hand out to Robin.
"We walk straight home, yeah?"
"Yeah, I promise."
"No stopping?"
"I promise, B, we'll go straight back. We can deal with your image later."
"Bran-" he cut himself off hastily and started again, "Just... just keep hold of my hand. Please."