Emerging from the Fog
Epilogue
------------ Outlaw's Camp ------------
It had been two weeks since the fog had cleared from the shire, and Allan had returned to the outlaws. Djaq had done good work resetting his dislocated shoulder and broken nose. The only visible signs of the altercation with Gisborne at this point were a slight purple halo around his right eye and a small scar transversing that eyebrow. They guessed that underneath the, once again brown and green, long sleeved shirt and vest there were still a few more bruises lingering.
The black garb had been shed nearly as soon as Allan had been able to stay conscious long enough to peel himself out of it. A few days later, when he was feeling better, Much caught him about to throw the clothing onto a small campfire when no one else was around. "Are you sure it's a wise decision to go burning clothes with winter just around the corner?" He'd asked. Allan had just looked at the garments and tossed them on the fire any way. Much shrugged and decided it was symbolic and chose to leave it at that.
It had been weird at first. Allan was trying so hard to show his gratitude for being allowed to return and to prove that he would never betray them again, that he ended up acting generally un-Allan-like, and that put everyone more on edge. Finally, after about a week of him biting his tongue when he should have been making silly or crude comments, constantly trying to help everyone with everything, and making sure to never wander off alone, Robin had had enough.
That night as they were all eating supper in the camp and sifting through the spoils of a good day's stealing from the rich, Much pulled a hideous, brightly colored sweater and some gaudy jewelry from what was obviously a woman's trunk. "What do you think?" Much asked the group, referring to the overall take of the day, not the particularly odious sweater he happened to be holding.
Robin looked over and could see that Allan was working so hard to hold back a comment that it appeared painful. "Out with it already, Allan!" He ordered.
"I'm not being funny, but you've actually managed to find an even uglier replacement for that other sweater of yours." And then he couldn't stop the laughter. Neither could anyone else in the group. Even Much joined in. They laughed until they were rolling on the floor and their sides hurt, partially because Much had just looked so silly holding that awful sweater, but also partially because it was the initial break in the tension that the camp so sorely needed. When they slowly all began to collect themselves, it seemed like the appropriate time to head off to bed.
While Allan still sat by the fire, Djaq got up and walked towards her bunk. She stopped when she got behind him and leaned down, placing her arms around his neck and her check on the top of his head. "That is the Allan a-Dale I have missed." He put a hand on her arm, returning the almost half-hug before she let go and finished making her way over to her bunk.
Will walked past and patted his shoulder. He quietly added, "She never gave up on you, you know."
"She should have. You all should have."
Robin then interjected cheerfully as he climbed into his bunk, "Don't worry. The rest of us did."
Since that night, the group dynamics had quickly returned to normal.
About that time was also when Robin got his first chance to spend any kind of significant time alone with Marian. Amongst other things, they talked about what had transpired those days in the fog. Marian made sure that Robin knew what pains Allan had gone through to protect her, save Robin, and stop the messenger. He also had a chance to tell her the now comical story of how he realized it wasn't her in the Night Watchman costume that night in the woods.
Robin never said anything about it to him, but from that day on, despite Much's occasional teasing on the subject, no one ever honestly questioned Allan's allegiances again. Granted, they had yet to take on Gisborne or the Sheriff directly or encounter a situation where they were captured and separated for questioning or torture, by that time. However, even though they knew that invariably those things would probably happen some time in the not too distant future, no one was actually concerned about it.
On this night, after one of Much's less desirable culinary creations, and as the chill in the late Fall wind blew through the camp, Allan thought about what he'd given up to be where he was. He remembered what it was like to be in the castle: a room of his own with no distractions, four solid walls and a roof, a real bed with sheets and pillows, and at least three square meals a day. It had been what he'd always thought he'd wanted. He then looked down at his sparse bedroll, stretched out along the forest floor. He looked up at the thin covering that formed the roof of the camp, yet barely provided any protection from the elements. He smelled the trail of smoke that formed as the tiny fire, their only source of heat in the camp, died in the night with no one tending to it. He heard the constant sounds of the camp: John's low-pitched snoring, Much's continual mutterings in his sleep, Robin's occasional sharp gasps and thrashing under the covers, Will's perpetual groaning and jabbing at Much to quiet him, Djaq's occasional quiet sigh, and the omnipresent rumbling in his own stomach.
It was amazing how time had a way of changing one's perspective. He looked around at the odd assortment of friends that he now considered family. There was no place on Earth he would rather be.
THE END!
Author's Note: Ok, that's it. This was a blast to write, and I hope you found it even half as enjoyable to read. I want to reiterate how much I love this fandom. You all are fantastic and so wonderfully supportive. Thank you all for reading this little chunk out of my imagination, and especially for every time one of you hits that review button. I'm almost sad to be finished with this story, but I feel that it has seen itself to completion. That and there's a one-shot in my brain that is just itching to steal the reins away from "Fog" and take over. I think it's time to let it. May you all have a wonderful New Year, and hopefully it won't be long before I'm posting some new stories.
Best Wishes,
CJ