A/N: Off in Bones Fanfic Land, I have often found that the best Booth/Bones fics are ones where they are talking about one another with people other than the two of them. I think this chapter has that quality for Robin and Marian. I hope that you will agree….

Also, I am aware that Nottingham and Derby are not far enough apart for travel to take days, even in the Middle Ages, so just pretend they are further apart than they are….

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Chapter 9

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"Mother says that you fought with King," the small and thoroughly inquisitive child turned to Robin as he guided the wagon along the mud-caked road through the forest to Derby. The springtime rains had extended into summer, it seemed, and though it was no longer raining, their slow progress meant that they needed to camp in the forest for the night.

Robin gave Sally a look that told her to stop encouraging such questions, "Yes, I fought with the King."

"Did you kill the evil Saracens?"

"The Saracen is not evil, Joseph. He is just different. We would do better talking to him than killing him."

"Mother says that papa has gone to fight in the wars too. That's why we are leaving. Because he might never come home and we shall have to learn to live without him."

Robin looked at Sally with a mix of accusation and pity. "Well, it will be dark soon. We should stop and camp here for the night, but we should arrive in Derby tomorrow morning. Robin pulled the wagon to a stop. "Joseph, go and gather some firewood." Sally put her hand on Robin's arm, clearly afraid to lose the boy.

Robin jumped from the wagon and called the boy back. "Joseph, can you make this sound?" He knelt in front of the child and made a bird call, "Try it."

Joseph made the sound on the first try.

"Good!" Robin was pleased with the boy's ability. "Go and stand behind that tree and listen for my call and then you call back." The boy once again responded correctly. Robin signaled for him to return. "Now, you go and fetch some firewood and if you hear me make that call, then you call back, okay?" The boy nodded. "And if you need anything or you feel scared or lost, you make that call and I will come to find you." He patted the child, who skipped happily into the wood.

Sally was overwhelmed. She tried to push the thoughts aside, but the man before her was a far better man than she'd ever imagined from the youth who had lured her into the forest. She knew that what appeared to her son to be protection for him was really meant as peace of mind for her.

Robin turned to find Sally staring at him and smiling, and he was suddenly very self conscious, "A game from childhood." He offered Sally a hand from the wagon.

"He deserves to think that his father was an honourable man," she stepped down to face him, "not a drunken bastard."

Robin clenched his hands together and straightened his arms, clearly uncomfortable, "I am glad we had the forsight to save some of the vegetables from lunch. Still, I need to go hunting."

"Speaking of supper," Sally glanced at the child in her arms, beginning to fuss.

"Ah yes, well…" Robin took a chest from the wagon and set it upon the ground. "Here, sit here."

He turned his back to give her privacy and began to build a ring for the fire, clearing leaves and stacking a few rocks. Attempting to start a casual conversation he asked, "Sally, what is in the chest?"

"Cloth. Thread. Needles. Patterns."

"Patterns?"

"Yes," She stood with the child. "Here open it."

"No, that's fine. I didn't mean to pry."

"You are not prying. Please, open it."

Robin followed her instructions and carefully opened the top. Inside was a tray full of pins, needles, and spools of thread. Lifting the tray from the box, he found beneath it plain muslin patterns for ladies dresses.

"Go ahead," Sally said, "take them out and look at them."

He brushed the dirt from his hands and followed her direction. As he turned each pattern in his hands, he noticed that each one had a symbol sewn along its edge. He recognized many of them. "What are these for?"

"Those tell whose pattern it is. Every noblewoman in the shire was a different size and shape and my mother had patterns for each of them. That way she did not have to measure them every time."

Robin began to speed through the fabric, looking for the one he knew was there. Lady Patterson...Lady Bisley...Lady Glaston...Lady Knighton...........Lady Locksley. "Is this?"

"It is your mother's."

The Locksley symbol was sewn in brown thread along the waistline of the bodice. Robin ran his finger over it, feeling the ridge between the thread and fabric. Closing his eyes, he raised the fabric to his nose. It was old and musty, of course, and smelled nothing of his mother, and yet somehow the smell seemed to bring her close. Overcome, Robin quickly replaced the objects to their home and layed the tray on top, clumsily closing the lid and motioning for Sally to sit. When he looked up, he was glad to see a pile of wood with legs walking toward him. He chuckled, "No, wait Joseph I…"

He was too late. The child tripped over the newly placed fire ring and sticks went tumbling everywhere. He immediately stood to see if the child was injured, but Joseph had crawled beneath the wagon.

Robin began to gather the sticks and looked up to see Sally had turned on her makeshift bench, her eyes wet at the sight of her child. Only then did it dawn on him why the child was hiding. "Joseph, do you want to help me build the fire?"

The boy nodded.

"Well you can't do that from under the wagon. Come on," he offered the boy a hand, but the child continued to sit with his knees curled to his chest. "Joseph, I am not going to beat you. I promise." He moved over and began stacking the sticks in the ring. Joseph crept out from under the wagon and gathered a stick. He tossed it on the pile from a distance. "That's right," Robin encouraged him. "Now go and get the others and bring them to the pile."

Very soon the boy was working to stack the wood within the ring, Sally was continuing to feed the infant, and Robin found himself hungry and staring at the ingredients for stew without a servant to prepare it. Well, it can't be that difficult. I can make a stew. He pulled out the leftover turnips and beans. He'd seen Much do it a thousand times. Tossing a vegetable into the air and letting it flip once before catching it again, he began to run his blade along the fiberous root. "Ow!" he declared, as the knife slipped and sliced his thumb.

Sally was laughing. "Robin of Locksley, I declare you have never sliced a turnip in your life!" She tied the child to her breast with a wrap and motioned for his weapon, "Give me the knife," she declared. "Why don't you go and see if you can find us some meat for this stew?"

"Now that I can do."

He grabbed his weapon and retreated into the forest, relieved to be away from the situation that threatened to flood him with memories of adolescence. It had been more than a decade since his mother's death. He found his memory of her was faded and washed, and he could no longer bring her features clearly to mind. He had her light brown hair and his father had told him that the sparkle in his eye was hers, but he could not really remember what she looked like or smelled like or what her voice sounded like. Before he'd left for the Holy Land, he and Marian would sit in the fields above Locksley and try to remember. It was even more difficult for Marian, becuase she had been younger when her mother died. She always reminded him that Lady Sarah expected him to be a gentleman, and he would remind her that Lady Katherine's boldness, clearly evident in her daughter, was going to get her into trouble.

He returned to camp in near darkness with a pheasant in tow.

"Peasant!" Sally exclaimed, "Aren't we lucky."

Robin stepped away from camp to prepare the bird, another task normally reserved for Much, but he was not about to lose face in front of Sally again. When he returned, he asked a question seeming completely disconnected from the raw meat in his hands. "Sally, how quickly can you make a dress?"

"That depends upon the dress."

"A simple one. Plain silk with some beading at the neck."

"Two days. Possibly three. Why?" She smiled, knowing exactly who the dress was for.

"Just wondered."

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All through dinner Joseph continued to question Robin as he had in the wagon, to the point that would make nearly anyone vain. Robin relished the attention and Sally relished watching her son with a hero. By the end of the meal Robin had described each of the outlaws and their roles in the gang. John, he said, had a heart to match his size. "His first priority is always feeding the people," Robin said. Djaq, the Saracen, was not only a skilled warrior, but also a skilled physician, who cared for the gang and the sick of Nottingham. Will Scarlett, the quiet carpenter, was one of the most noble men he'd ever met, and had built them a home in the forest with his hands. "And Much," Robin said, "Much is my most loyal friend. He went to war with me, you know, and he gave up just as much as me to fight the Sheriff."

"What about the Nightwatchman?"

"The Nightwatchman?"

"Isn't he in your gang?"

"No, the Nightwatchman is not in my gang."

"Don't you know him?"

Robin smiled at the thought of his love. She would blush if she heard the child speaking of her. "Well yes, yes I do know him. I owe a great debt to the Nightwatchman. He cared for the people of Locksley and Nottingham while I was away."

"Why does he wear a mask?"

"He wears a mask so that no one will know who he is."

"Don't you know who he is?"

He wanted so much to declare it to the world. "No. I don't. I only know him as the Nightwatchman. I've never seen him without his mask."

"Why don't you wear a mask? Then the Sheriff will not know that you are Robin Hood."

Robin laughed and looked across to Sally, who joined him in laughter. "That's enough questions Joseph, time for sleep."

"But I want to hear another story!"

"Okay. One more," Robin offered, "But you must lie down as you listen and promise that when it is finished you will go to sleep." The boy nestled into blankets beside him. "Deep in Sherwood forest," Robin began, "there is a tree. A wide, old tree fallen accross the river. It is a calm and peaceful place with grasses and flowers growing among the wide flat rocks along the riverbank – a wonderful spot for swimming. But it was not always a peaceful place. You see, only the fiercest of storms could bring down such a tree, and on the night that this tree fell, two children were lost in the forest."

"Is this a scary story?" The boy sat up.

Sally warned Robin with a motherly look.

"There are some scary parts, I suppose, but it has a happy ending, I promise."

The boy settled in and Robin continued, "These two children, they loved to ride their horses in Sherwood…"

"How old were they?" Joseph interrupted once more.

"Well, the little girl was ten and the boy was nearly fourteen."

"No more questions Joseph, remember?" his mother softly offered a reminder and he lowered his head to the blanket once more.

"Where was I?" Robin asked, "Oh yes, these two children loved to ride their horses in Sherwood, and on this day they had ventured farther into the forest then either had ever been before. They had been riding all afternoon when the sky turned dark and dreary."

The boy was entranced. So was Sally. Robin continued the story, being careful not to identify the names of the children, though it was obvious to Sally that he was telling a story about himself and a young Lady Marian.

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"There is a storm coming, Marian. We should go home."

Thunder rolled in the distance. She kicked her pony toward home.

"Marian, where are you going?"

"Home."

"Home is east."

"I know."

"That is south."

"No it isn't."

"Yes it is. Look at the..." But the sun had disappeared beneath a thick blanket of dark grey clouds. Thunder rolled again, closer than they would have liked and their horses shifted and whimpered.

"Alright," Robin said, "Let's go back and follow the river." They'd just crossed it, not a mile back.

"Fine." Marian could not quite bring herself to say, "Agreed."

They retraced their steps back to the river, following the hoof prints they'd made moments before. Thunder rolled again, this time more closely on the heels of the lightning. Robin's horse reared, anxious at the inclement weather and sensing its handler's nervousness. The sky opened upon them as if all the angels were emptying their buckets. The rain was so hard that neither could really see the other nor the trail in front of them. They did not hear or see the river until their horses stopped short on the banks, and the body of water that was moments before passable had transformed to a rushing torrent.

Robin found his way to Marian and shouted over the rain and thunder, "We'll ride along the bank to town."

She nodded.

"You first," he ordered, remembering that when he'd been small, his father had always ordered him to ride ahead in order to watch him. On this day, his mother, wishing to inspire responsibility in her son had whispered to him upon departure, 'Remember, Robin you are responsible for Marian when she is riding with you.' He was glad that, for once, Marian did not argue.

They'd gotten barely half a mile, to a spot where the riverbank became rocky and the river much deeper, making it something less of a torrent. Their horses struggled for footing on the mud and rocks. The piercing drops stung their eyes and every few seconds the lightning lit the forest in silhouette. The trees were giants. They seemed alive – as if their violently swaying branches were begging for mercy from the gods of the sky.

Suddenly, a bolt crashed on the opposite riverbank, so close that they heard it buzzing through the air. The thunder, following immediately on the heels of the strike was so loud that it was painful in their ears. The horses reared, throwing both riders to the ground.

When Robin came to, he saw Marian standing over him. She was shouting his name, though all he could see was her lips moving. Then, over her shoulder, he saw a horrifying sight. A giant was falling toward them, its arms reaching out to grab Marian and engulf her whole. He scrambled to his feet and pulled her by the hand, "Marian, run!" The giant gained ground as it fell toward them, but they were just beyond its reach. Its top crashed to the ground, spraying their backs with sticks and splinters, and throwing them to the ground.

They looked at one another with wide eyes and heavy breaths, scared out of their minds.

"Are you alright?" Robin examined her, checking for cuts and bruises. She had sticks in her hair and a small cut on her cheek from where her face had hit the ground, but she seemed to be fine.

"Yes. Are you okay?"

Robin attempted not to show his fear.

"I guess we'll have to walk to Nottingham."

"No Marian, it is not safe. We should stay here. Look," he said, pointing to the dead giant. The fallen tree which moments before had been attacking them was now the perfect refuge from the storm. Its thick foliage made effective cover from the teeming drops. Climbing into the branches, they allowed the canopy to offer some protection.

With her knees pulled to her chest and her chin upon her knees, Marian spoke first, "Robin?"

"Yes?" he answered from an identical position.

"Are you scared?"

"No. Are you?"

"No. Are you cold?"

"No. Are you?"

"No."

And so neither cold, and neither scared, they huddled together under the fallen tree and drifted asleep, only to be found the next morning by a very worried Sheriff of Nottingham.

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Robin covered Joseph in a blanket and then walked to Sally's side of the fire. "Asleep at last."

Sally just looked at him, her conflicted emotions writing both thanks and longing on her face. She blinked and a tear ran down her cheek.

"Hey," he put a hand on her shoulder, "it's alright. I told you, everything will be fine. You...shall have a new life, and you will make the finest dresses in Derby."

Sally finally spoke her mind, "What has happened to you?"

"What?" Robin was entirely confused.

"You, Robin of Locksley, were a silver-tongued devil, you were. Always playful, never serious, and full of witty lines designed to lure the girls of the shire into the forest. And as I recall, I fell for it on more than one occasion."

Robin shifted in discomfort. It was true, and he dared not expose the emotion that her truth-telling created within him. Still, the words he spoke were an honest response, "I hope you will allow, Sally, that years of war abroad and injustice at home can make a boy into a man."

"Yes, but I never imagined you would become so...noble."

"Sally, I never acted toward you as a nobleman should."

She leaned toward him with a slight lilt to her voice. "On the contrary, I would say that you were acting as all nobleman do."

"That doesn't make it right."

They fell into awkward silence. Robin looked at the leaves on the forest floor. He was perfectly comfortable accepting the adoration of children as Robin Hood, but to hear this woman speak of him in such intimate terms was more than disconcerting. He looked up at her. Over the course of his life he'd become very familiar with what a woman looked like when she was willing. He could think of a thousand lines he might speak that would cause her to melt beneath his fingertips, and he noted to himself how distant that part of him seemed. "You should get some sleep, Sally."

"I cannot sleep in the forest," she lied, for the forest had nothing to do with her inability to sleep. "I did not sleep last night and I'm sure I shall be awake tonight as well. You sleep."

"I can go many days without," Robin said.

"There's no reason this needs to be one of those days," she smiled. "Please, you have worked hard to make good time today despite the condition of the road and I'm sure that preparing that stew took the last bit of energy you had," she chided. "It's alright. I cannot sleep out of doors. Sleep for a bit and if I get tired, I will wake you."

He nodded, assumed a position near the fire, drifted to sleep.

Sally sat, her mind spinning, her body filled with sensations she'd not felt in a very long time. No, she admonished herself, and attempted to push away thoughts of the man sleeping across from her. She spoke to her daughter, "I'm glad you will have no memory of your father. He was not a good man," she tapped the child's nose, "though he did give me you." The child began to cry and she put it to her breast, "We shall start a new life, little one. We shall make the finest dresses for the women of Derbyshire."

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Marian settled in for her first night within her cousins' home. They'd been welcoming enough, considering the shocked looks on their faces upon her arrival. She'd had to explain who she was because her younger cousins, whom she'd never met, had refused her entry to the home. But their mother, the woman Lady Kate had always referred to as Cousin Ellen, recognized Marian immediately. Insisting that Marian call her "Aunty," she had showered pity upon the "orphaned child." All day, they had insisted that she relax and participate in an embroidery circle. Normally, this type of activity would have been to Marian the epitome of domestic dullness. What she really wanted to do was go riding. It was how she'd always forgotten her cares – racing across the fields or through the forest at a full gallop, her hair free to blow in the wind. But her horse could not run forever, and on the journey to her cousin's home she found that the moment she slowed the animal, allowing her attention to drift, she'd been unable to push the flashes from her mind. They were filling in, slowly, and she nearly fell from her horse when a new one would come before her. And so, she supposed that being alone would only force her into her own thoughts and was appreciative for the company, hoping that her imperfect stitches would not blemish the fine work of her cousins too much.

The night crept upon her and she'd stayed in the main parts of the manor for as long as she could – until every last servant with whom she might engage in conversation had retired. Finally forced into her own, temporary quarters (though how temporary she could not be certain), she stared at the bed and dreaded entering its folds. But, as one who always dove straight into her fears, she changed into her night clothes and got in, removing the heavier blankets not required in summer and pulling only the sheet over her shoulders.

No, she admonished herself, stop thinking of him! She'd survived for five years without him, though, if she was honest with herself, she'd spent nearly three of those years thinking of him as she was now. Still, she'd become a woman without his input or interference. She fought for the people just as he did. She could deal with this on her own. She didn't need him. She didn't. So why, every time she felt the images flood her mind, was it his name that broke the cycle?

For the second night in a row, she sweated and shook and shifted in her sleep, pushing with her legs as if attempting to force someone from a position over her. It always ended the same way – her attacker's face, buried beneath a helmet, was before her, eyes wide open in shock at the blade that had just entered his side. Then he fell dead upon her. She would startle awake, feeling the warmth of his blood rushing over her, and sit straight up in bed with the same word always on her lips…Robin.

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Robin sat bolt upright in the forest, "Marian…"

He didn't realise he'd said it out loud until he heard Sally's voice, "Robin, is something wrong?"

"Sorry?" He was not quite awake.

"Is something wrong?" She repeated.

"No, why?"

"Because you just awoke with a start," she added coyness to her voice, "with the Lady Marian's name upon your lips."

Robin released his breath, "I'm sorry, I was dreaming. I think that telling that story to Joseph brought back too many memories of childhood." Robin attempted to look like he was going back to sleep.

"You still love her, don't you?"

He tried to show he was ignoring her by keeping his eyes closed and fluffing the pile of clothing that made his pillow, "Why would I love what I cannot have?"

"Because the heart does not always do as the mind orders." Her statement failed to get a reaction from him so she chose bluntness, "The two of you need to be more careful."

Now, his eyes shot open.

"The dress," she informed him.

"What?"

"The green dress over your shoulder."

Robin looked puzzled.

"Lady Marian wore it when she visited me the following day – the morning that she saved me from Nigel."

"Oh."

"And you both make remarks about Robin Hood having people everywhere."

"Oh." Robin made a note to warn Marian not to utter that phrase any longer.

"And Robin…"

"Yes?" He was fighting every urge to smile.

"You glow when you speak of her. Even though you tried to dismiss it as the past, I could see it on your face when I accused you of being 'entranced.' And when you were telling Joseph the story earlier…Robin, it was written all over your face."

That face was now turning crimson, "Yes, well, I suppose I'm not nearly as good at hiding it as she." Robin was unsure what to say next, but it felt wonderful to have someone with whom to speak about her.

"You never were good at hiding it, you know."

"Only from myself," he mumbled

"What does that mean?"

Robin was not about to go further, "Nothing, nevermind. Go to sleep." He straightened his "pillow" once again.

There was only a short period of silence before he began to think aloud. The freedom was liberating. "I did not realise how much I loved her until I was gone and then it was too late. I ached for her. Saw her face everywhere. But, knowing that she hated me and that she would surely be married upon my return, I threw myself into war."

"And she did not marry."

"No, and so upon my return the ache came back, only stronger because she was…she was…"

"The Nightwatchman?"

Robin immediately rose and was standing over her in two strides. He spoke with a voice that suddenly turned from one fogged with thoughts of his love to one fiercely protecting that love. "Sally, who gave you that information?" he demanded.

Sally cowered a bit beneath him and swallowed hard. His eyes were suddenly fierce, his jaw terse. "No one," she closed her eyes and shook her head, clinging to the baby, "no one gave me that information."

Realizing his error, he knelt on the ground in front of her. "I'm sorry, Sally. It's just that..." He sat back onto his heels, "How do you know?"

"I didn't. I just suspected."

"Until I just confirmed it," he cursed himself. "But what made you suspicious?"

"Well, the Nightwatchman visited and came right up to me to hand me some medicine. His eyes seemed gentle and soft when he looked at me, and he was no taller than I. Then he took my hand and squeezed it in reassurance. Lady Marian visited me the next day and she did the same. She took my hand and looked into my eyes and…I could tell."

"You are very observant Sally."

"I learned to be that way. Observing Nigel's behaviour is the only way I can tell what type of mood he is in and whether or not the children are in any danger."

Robin offered her a pitying look.

Sally turned to more positive thoughts, "She is inspiring, though – so strong. I would never have imagined that a noblewoman would place herself in so much danger on behalf of the poor."

"Yes, well, Marian is not an ordinary noblewoman."

"No, no, she's not. She showed such courage when she stood up to Nigel. I can understand why you love her." She reached for Robin's arm, causing him to turn away again for blushing. "So, tell me, why is she not with you?"

He finally collapsed his bottom to the forest floor and relaxed, "Because she is the only one I can trust."

Sally finished his thought, "To feed you information."

He looked at her and nodded, whispering, "yes." Then he closed is eyes and took advantage of the rare opportunity to have someone to talk to, "And now the ache is worse than it has ever been because I love her more than I ever have and I cannot protect her. In fact, she insists that she is protecting me because somehow, despite all of my errors, she apparently finds it in her heart to still love me."

"Well," Sally smiled, "I can't imagine that that is very difficult."

For the third time, fever rose to his face. He returned to his bed on the forest floor and rolled onto his side to face away from her, "Sally…"

"I know," she cut him off as he was turning back to face her, "No one can know. It would endanger her…and you. You needn't worry yourself for my knowing. Get some sleep."

Robin pretended to do so and listened to Sally as she spoke to her baby, "Someday, you will find a man to love you like that, my child. And don't settle for anything less."

He smiled contentedly and finally slept.