Morgan opened her eyes as light trickled through the roof of the camp. For a moment, she stayed in bed, imagining that Much would come over and yell at her to get up. She imagined that maybe Robin would enter the camp after his morning walk and announce that there was a carriage to rob. Then, she reminded herself that it wasn't going to happen.

She wasn't alone, not truly alone. It was obviously quieter, and that was something she still wasn't used to, and the discomfort she felt at its presence was exacerbated by the knowledge that it would not be interrupted by Much's worrying or Allan's stories or Little John's uproarious laughter. They'd all left in a hurry, not even bothering to return to the camp before dashing off to the Holy Land.

How long had it been? She looked up at the ceiling on her lofted bunk, closing her eyes, trying to remember the date. January 14th. Three months. The day that the gang had gone, she'd sent word to her mother and Hollis, explaining that she wouldn't be able to visit and why. She had also sent a letter to Scarborough, informing Will's little brother. She thought that he deserved to know that Will was leaving the county.

They'd both sent word back, and it wasn't long after that that they'd both turned up in Nottingham, ready to help her. Morgan had never asked them for their assistance, but they wouldn't take "no" for an answer. They were still sleeping. Luke had taken Will's cot, and Hollis occupied Much's. Morgan let them sleep, trusting that they would attend to the hunting and wood-gathering in her absence. She had the poor of Nottinghamshire to feed.

Things in Nottingham had continued like clockwork. The guards still showed up everyday, their spirits clearly lifted in the absence of the Sheriff and Guy. Every Thursday, Morgan made her rounds, drawing from the vast stores of their stolen gold to hand down to the poor. The villagers had asked her questions at first, but when they learned that they wouldn't get any answers as to where Robin Hood had gone, they stopped wasting their breath. Later, they'd pick up the story from Poppy, the gossip hound of Nettlestone.

"Robin Hood and his gang have followed the Sheriff and Guy of Gisborne to the Holy Land. Word is that the Lady Marian is with Guy, and Robin's gone to avenge his broken heart." Morgan frowned. Leave it to Poppy to turn every scrap of information into some kind of twisted love affair. Morgan had at least gone to the trouble of making sure that everyone knew that Lady Marian had gone to the Holy Land as a prisoner, and that Robin and his lads were on their way to rescue her and protect the King.

Morgan tried to think of where they all were, and what they might be doing. They'd be traveling by ship, probably in the Holy Land by now. Unless they'd been thrown off course by a storm. Unless their ship had sunk. Unless they were all dead. Morgan screwed her eyes shut, forcing herself not to think about it. They would make it. They had to make it.

She jumped down from her bunk, looking around the camp. She'd been very careful not to move things, wanting the gang to come back and find everything as they had left it. Hollis and Luke seemed to get the message, and only moved things as was necessary. This had been an easy enough task at first. Morgan spent very little time in the camp during the day, choosing instead to show the boys around the forest, showing them how to check all of the traps that Will had set in the forest, to patrol, and to check up on the families that had been forced out of Locksley by the mercenaries.

The mercenaries were a constant source of aggravation for Morgan. Having the free time that she had, she found that she dedicated a lot of it to thinking how things would've been different if they had never caught them off guard in Nettlestone. Maybe they would've been able to stop the Sheriff and Guy from leaving England in the first place. Then the gang wouldn't have had to go to the Holy Land at all. The fact that the mercenaries hadn't left didn't help Morgan's disposition. Hollis and Luke had learned fairly early that it was unwise to mention them in Morgan's presence.

She got dressed and set out for Clun, whistling as she walked down the well-beaten path. When Allan had come to their rescue at the last minute, when the gang realized that they weren't going to die after all, they'd been ecstatic. The moment of euphoria had been crushed when Allan revealed that the Sheriff and Gisborne were on their way to the Holy Land, Marian in tow. Robin had immediately decided to go to the Holy Land, rescue Marian, and save the King.

The rest of the gang was ready to follow him, as they always did, and Morgan had been so happy that Allan had finally rejoined the gang that she didn't particularly care where they went.

---

They rode side by side, being as discrete as a newlywed couple that hadn't seen each other in nearly a month could hope to be, keeping towards the back of the group.

"It's really not that bad," Morgan shrugged. "I mean, it's nothing like England, but it's not as terrible as people say." Allan nodded, shivering slightly. He'd grown used to the thick, warm uniform that he'd worn for months. Being back in his threadbare clothes was unusual for him.

"I mean, it is supposed to be a Holy Land. I'm guessing that's why most of the men in England shipped out," he muttered. The statement was made casually, but Morgan stopped her horse. The gang had been riding for quite some time, and they instantly noticed the arrhythmic steps of Morgan's horse.

"Everything alright?" Robin asked from the front of the group.

"Who's going to help the poor?" Morgan asked. "If we run off to the Holy Land, who will protect Nottingham?" The thought had just occurred to her, and by the looks on everyone else's faces, she wasn't alone.

"We have to save the King," Much pointed out, glancing at Robin. "And Marian."

"But we can't just leave Nottingham unattended," Morgan countered, turning her horse around. "You lot go ahead. I'll stay."

---

"Thank you!"

"Bless you!"

"You're a kind soul." Morgan had never been the center of attention when they did drops. She wasn't exactly a figure that commanded attention, at least not in the same capacity as Robin or Little John, and she liked it that way. With everyone else gone, though, Morgan had become accustomed to people crowding around her, clamoring for the rations of food and money that she brought with her. She handed out to the last waiting family, a woman with two young children and a newborn baby.

"Hallo, Leah," Morgan whispered as the crowd dispersed. "How's the babe?" Leah stepped closer, holding the child out to the outlaw. Morgan smiled at the baby, inspecting the wide, blue-gray eyes that blinked up at her, the soft tuft of ginger hair that stuck up in a stubborn cowlick.

"Renton's eyes, your hair. She's adorable," Morgan commented, handing a bag full of coins to Leah. "Do you mind if I hold her?" Leah nodded, handing the baby to Morgan.

"Her name's Elizabeth, after you," Leah beamed, laughing at Morgan's surprised stare. "If you hadn't gotten that medicine to us, she wouldn't have made it. We can never thank you enough."

"I can't thank you enough," Morgan corrected with a grin.

"You pay me to make those clothes, Morgan. It's nothing," Leah sighed. "You better get inside, just in case you're seen."

---

"Do you and Allan want children?" Leah asked as she folded the clothes and placed them into the bag that Morgan had brought with her. Jill, who was still shy around their visitor, hid behind her mother's skirts, peeking out when she thought Morgan wasn't looking. Morgan gently laid Elizabeth in her bassinette, covering her up with a blanket.

"I don't know," she said honestly. "We haven't really had time to discuss that sort of thing. Not being funny, but I've only seen him three times since we got married." Morgan was exaggerating, but her point was well seen. Leah proffered a sympathetic smile.

"Well, when Robin brings King Richard back from the Holy Land, everything will be better. You and Allan will be able to settle down, and we'll get a decent sheriff that doesn't keep my husband working all the time," she thought aloud. Morgan smiled at the thought of the gang returning, but was quickly pulled from the thought by a small hand tugging on her cloak. Morgan smiled and crouched next to Renton's son, Adam.

"Morgan, when Robin Hood comes back, will he visit us?" he asked hopefully. Morgan ruffled his hair.

"I'll talk to him. He's a very busy man, but I'm sure he'll try and find the time," she nodded, careful to avoid words such as "promise" or "definitely." It was enough for Adam, who picked up his toy sword from the corner, brandishing it as he ran out the door, crying out to his friends. Leah grinned after him and handed Morgan the mended clothes.

"Thanks, Leah. I swear, those two are growing like weeds," Morgan thanked. "If there's anything you need, let me know."

---

Morgan quickened her pace as she neared Nottingham. It was her last drop for the day, and she felt mixed emotions as she neared. She was glad that it was her last drop, because she was quite frankly exhausted. She was definitely not happy about having to go to Nottingham. The man that Prince John had sent to run things was not nearly as clever as the Sheriff, but he was just as, if not more, repulsive. It was obvious by his rotund build that he'd never seen a hard day's work in his life, preferring to leech off of the labor of others.

In addition to raising taxes since he'd arrived, the man, who Morgan called "Temporary Sheriff" or "Temp" when pressed for time, had passed a mandate that required all of the castle guards to sleep in the barracks. Poor Renton hadn't seen his family in nearly two weeks. Fortunately, a number of the guards had quickly grown irritated with Temporary Sheriff, and, in an act of private rebellion led by Renton, allowed Morgan to pass freely through Nottingham when they could.

She did her work quickly, eager to catch up on the latest news from the castle and get back to the camp. The sun was lazily falling below the horizon, its last rays winking across the landscape, lighting the sky. Morgan sighed. It would be the middle of the night in the Holy Lands, if she had to guess. She wondered just where the gang was, and what they were up to.

---

Allan had never seen so much ocean in his life, and after spending the worst part of the past three months bent over the railings of the ship, he was pretty sure that he'd had his fill for a while. The moonlight reflected off of the water, bouncing up into his face as he took deep breaths, trying to calm his stomach. Everyone else was sleeping, not nearly as affected by the tumultuous waters as he was.

"Not being funny, but I should've stayed in England," he muttered under his breath.

"Well, if you'd done that, you wouldn't have been able to give us all of that information that you did, and we wouldn't know where to sail to." To Allan's surprise, it wasn't Will who had come to check on him, but Much. Since Allan's return, he'd been perhaps overly polite to the whole group, walking on eggshells. He took their teasing in stride, and Much had been teasing a bit more than the others. Still, he was grateful that the former manservant had come to check on him.

"It helps if you sit in the middle of the deck and look at the horizon," Much suggested, helping Allan along. Had he not been so violently nauseous, Allan would've laughed at the fact that Much had better sea legs than he did. "I got sick when we went the first time." Allan managed a smile, feeling slightly less terrible, but still far from well.

"Thanks, Much," he mumbled, feeling that Much didn't hear those words enough. Much grinned, sitting down next to him.

"Don't worry about it. You can see the Holy Land from here. See?" Allan followed Much's point to a dot in the distance. "We'll be there soon." Much sounded as enthusiastic as Allan felt about getting off the ship. The sooner they got to the Holy Land, the sooner they could save King Richard and Marian. The sooner they saved King Richard and Marian, the sooner they could go home. To England. To Nottingham. To Morgan.

"Thinking about her, are you?" Much asked. He grinned when Allan looked at him, puzzled as to how he'd known. "You were making the same face that she does when she thinks about you. Hopeless romantics, the pair of you."

"That tends to happen when you marry someone," Allan chuckled. "You know what?"

"What?" Much asked, wondering if he'd ever had such a pleasant conversation with Allan before.

"The next time that I say that I have a wife to think about, it won't be a lie," he grinned slyly, harkening back to when they'd first formed the gang, when Allan had lied to the Sheriff's men. Much sniggered, clapping Allan on the shoulders before heading below deck.

---

Morgan kept her head down as Temporary Sheriff paraded through the streets, returning from some meeting he'd had with, Morgan assumed, a messenger from Prince John. Unfortunately, he was familiar with Morgan. On his way to Nottingham, the first day after the gang had left for the Holy Lands, Morgan had ambitiously tried to ambush his carriage. To her, it was just another carriage.

To Temporary Sheriff, it was a grand announcement of her presence, an introduction to the biggest thorn in his side that he would encounter. The fat, lout of a man strolled past, and Morgan slipped into the line of guards and servants that followed after him. The way that he flaunted his position made it oh-so easy for Morgan to go undetected. As soon as she was safely inside the castle, she peeled away from the entourage, choosing a corridor that would lead to Renton's post.

"Rent," she whispered, catching his attention. He looked around, nodding as soon as he was sure the coast was clear. "Anything?"

"Big thing," Renton murmured, a degree of panic in his voice. "I assume that you saw Temp returning from Locksley."

"Locksley?" Morgan asked incredulously. "Why was he in Locksley?"

"He's just dismissed the army of mercenaries," Renton answered, removing his helmet and running his fingers through his hair.

"Good," Morgan hissed, her contempt of Ellingham and his men shining through.

"Bad," Renton corrected, shaking his head. "He's decided that he's not going to pay them." Morgan's eyes widened, and she sputtered, momentarily unable to speak.

"Is he mad?" she demanded, finally regaining her ability to speak. "Those mercenaries out number you lot at least three to one! He's going to have a fight on his hands."

"Don't think I don't know it," Renton muttered flatly. "I reckon we've got until tomorrow before they mobilize. They'll come here for sure. They'll want their money."

"And they won't hesitate to destroy Nottingham to get it," Morgan finished, pulling her hand across her face, sighing. "Temp is a bigger fool that I thought. Look, Rent. This is going to get ugly. I'll try to come up with a plan. In the meantime, I need you alert the towns people. Get them out of here."

"What about Temp?" Renton asked.

"I'll take care of Temp," Morgan reassured, patting Renton on the shoulder before ducking inside.

---

The temporary sheriff's real name was Dunstan, and he was blissfully unaware that the castle guard called him Temp. He supposed that he was doing a good job. Other than the occasional theft by that outlaw, he hadn't had a bit of trouble. The people always paid their taxes, and there was no sign of any problems. He hardly understood what all of the fuss what about.

"You must be the most foolish person in the whole world." Dunstan sighed, turning to see Morgan standing in the doorway, pointing an arrow at his head. He supposed that that was what all of the fuss was about. He knew that the Sheriff had had to deal with Robin Hood, and he supposed that the castle's old blacksmith was acting in Hood's absence.

"I mean, honestly. You told them that you wouldn't pay them?" Morgan asked, stepping forward.

"They did not fulfill their contract. It would not be fiscally sound to pay them," Dunstan explained thickly. Morgan scoffed, shaking her head.

"Have you ever dealt with mercenaries?" she asked, though she was sure that the answer was 'no.' "You really think that they'll just pick up and leave?"

"They have no reason to stay," he returned thickly. Frustrated, Morgan let out a strangled yell, stamping her foot in annoyance. Had she not been holding a bow and arrow, she probably would've thrown her hands up, but as it was, she shook her head again.

"You are an idiot, Temp," she said through clenched teeth. "The reason for them to stay is the large amount of gold that you were supposed to pay them! They will probably be here by morning." She expected Temporary Sheriff to perhaps panic, or realize his mistake. When he did nothing, it only added to her mounting frustration.

"Not being funny, Temp, but you must have a well-connected cousin or something," she muttered.

"So the mercenaries will come here?" Dunstan asked. "They have more men."

"Yes, that would be the point of this little meeting," Morgan rolled her eyes. "You need a plan, and I have one." She never thought she'd miss the Sheriff, but Temp tended to put things into perspective.

---

So, here's chapter two. First of all, I love Renton. He's probably my favorite secondary OC I've ever written. Writing his family made me smile. Second of all, there will be a few more flashes to the Holy Land, but this story will largely be centered in Nottingham.

The next few chapters are going to be something of a flashback-o-rama, in the sense that there will be flashbacks out the wazoo, but also in the sense that I'm going to bring back a slew of secondary characters from the show.

No expense has been spared! No character left unmentioned! SPARTANS! PREPARE FOR GLORY! …Or chapter three. Sorry, I've been falling asleep to movies again…

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! Please, review!