Still Flashback

Merrick moved quickly once he was out of Arthur's sight, making his way towards the southern side of the camp, where he knew Dagonet would be on guard duty. He found him leaning against a large tree.

"Dagonet," he said hurriedly. "I need your help."

"With what?" Dagonet replied, uninterested.

"Quinn's been taken by Saxons." That brought a response immediately.

"What happened?" He asked, worry lacing his voice.

"She and Tristan were ambushed. She was alive when they took her."

"Are we packing up the camp?"

"No," Merrick replied shortly.

"Why not?" Dagonet rumbled.

"Arthur wants to wait until we get more reinforcements from the wall. They stumbled into a whole company; he thinks a rescue mission will be too dangerous," Merrick explained. Dagonet's eyes widened.

"That's madness. They won't keep her alive nearly that long."

"I know. That's why I'm going after her. I can't sit here and do nothing while her life is in danger," Merrick told him, almost pleadingly.

"I'll come with you," Dagonet assured him without hesitation.

"I was counting on it," Merrick said, grinning, but Dagonet could see the look of relief on his face.

"We need to plan this out carefully. The two of us against an entire company… The odds are impossible…" He trailed off, doubt in his eyes.

"Then it's a good thing I make it three," a voice said from behind them. They spun to face the newcomer, drawing their swords in one fluid, practiced motion.

"Relax," Lancelot said, stepping out from the shadow of the trees. "I'm here to help you." Both men lowered their swords, Merrick a little slower than Dagonet.

"What makes you think you're coming?" Merrick questioned.



"You'll need as many swords as you can get, and I have two," he replied, smirking. "You're going to need me if either of you want to get Quinn out alive." Merrick thought it over. As much as he disliked Lancelot for his cocky arrogance and courtship of Quinn, he knew he made a valid point. Lancelot was an excellent fighter, and the extra man would come in handy if Quinn was hurt or unconscious and needed to be carried out. Besides, he too was attached to Quinn, and would fight hard for her safety.

"Fine," Merrick caved. "But you answer to me, understand?" Lancelot rolled his eyes.

"Yes, captain," he replied sarcastically. "Now can we go before their trail goes cold?"

Twenty minutes later the three men snuck out of the camp, taking a large path around where Arthur and Tristan would still be. They travelled lightly, not bothering with bulky plate armor, and settling for a lighter protective covering of leather. They brought enough weapons and arrows for a decent sized fight, but the plan was to sneak in, grab Quinn and get out without anybody noticing. Once they were clear of the camp Merrick led them back in the direction that Tristan had come from. They picked up his trail and followed it back to where the two of them had been attacked. The signs of a struggle were evident, and they knew Tristan had not been exaggerating the numbers of their foe. At least that made them easier to track. They had left a wide trail, obviously not worried about being followed. A mistake they will pay greatly for, Merrick thought to himself. I'll make sure of it.

It was close to noon when they found the Saxon camp. Merrick whistled through his teeth. This could be more challenging than he had thought.

"We need to split up," he murmured. "Find out where they're keeping her. Meet back here within a couple hours, no matter what. Stay unseen, and if you find her make no move to do anything. Travel on foot, leave the horses here. Luck be with all of us," he finished. Dagonet nodded.

"Luck," he repeated.

"If luck existed, none of us would be here," Lancelot muttered, causing the other men to grin a little, erasing their troubles for a moment. But then the moment was gone, and the somber, serious mood returned. The three men split up without another word, each of them silently praying for their own success, and the safety of their comrade and friend.

-Quinn's POV, Still Flashback-

Slowly, I regained consciousness, the world blurring in and out in front of my eyes. The first thing I noticed was that I was tied to a tree. The next thing that set in was the pain. Lots of pain. The pain engulfed my entire body, leaving no part of me untouched. An involuntary shudder racked my body, and a gasp escaped my lips. There were a few men sitting around a fire in front of me, and they looked up at my noise. They rumbled some words in their native language, and 

then one rose and started lumbering towards me. I struggled against my bonds, but they held tight. As he came to put me out again, I knew I had started to hallucinate because I could have sworn that I saw Lancelot crouched in the bushes. Which would have been quite embarrassing, since I was fairly sure that I was completely naked. I didn't have time to worry about that, however, because I was backhanded viciously. My head snapped back against the tree, causing a sharp flash of pain before I slipped back into blissful darkness.

-3rd Person POV, Still Flashback-

Merrick stood anxiously next to a tree, eyes scanning the landscape for any sign of his comrades. The sun had moved across the sky so he knew that almost two hours had expired. Suddenly Dagonet materialized a few paces away from him, stepping out from the bushes.

"Any luck?" Merrick whispered urgently. Dagonet shook his head. "Me either," he sighed. "Where the hell is Lancelot?"

"Waiting to make a good entrance," Lancelot retorted from behind them both.

"Knock it off," Merrick growled. "What happened?"

"I found her," Lancelot replied. Merrick took a deep breath.

"Dead?" He asked, dreading the answer.

"Alive," Lancelot stated, and Merrick's heart nearly leapt out of his chest. "No sure for how long, though."

"Is she injured?" Dagonet asked.

"Not badly," he replied. "But once they tire of using her it will probably be easier to dispose of her." Merrick's eyes flashed dangerously.

"Using her?" He questioned, his voice icy. Lancelot met his gaze, and Merrick knew exactly what he meant. "I'll kill them," he raged, only barely remembering to keep his voice low. "I will kill every last one of them." With that his hand flew to the hilt of his sword, and he started moving towards the Saxon camp. Lancelot grabbed his arm and yanked him back roughly.

"Don't be foolish," he whispered harshly. "If you storm in there they'll kill you, and then they'll kill her."

"I have to do something!" Merrick fumed. Lancelot grabbed his shoulders and shoved him against a tree, pinning him between it and his body.

"Don't assume that you are the only one who cares about Quinn," he barked. "Now, we have to do this sensibly and discreetly, or else we're all dead."



"He's right," Dagonet put in. "You know better than that, Merrick." Merrick's shoulders sagged in defeat and Lancelot let him go, moving a few steps away to give him his space.

"We need a plan," he said softly, as if thinking out loud. "Lancelot, can you show me where she is?" Lancelot grinned.

"Well, since you asked so nicely," he retorted, and then spun on his heels and plunged into the trees again, Dagonet and Merrick following him quietly.

Lancelot led them in a wide loop around the camp, and then brought them back closer once they reached the outskirts. The men crouched down and inched ever closer, wary of the unsuspecting sentries who would give them away. Finally, Lancelot motioned them to halt. Merrick took the lead and crept up so he could peer through the bushes. He saw a group of Saxons sitting around a small fire drinking ale, and then let his gaze wander back towards the main camp. That's when he saw her, and his breath stuck in his throat. She was tied to the trunk of a large tree, hands high over her head and feet spread apart. Half of her face was covered in a thin sheet of blood from a cut high on her forehead. As he scanned the rest of her body it seemed like they had left no part of her untouched; there were bruises, cuts and scrapes everywhere. Obviously they had been taking no precautions when bringing her back here and 'using' her. It didn't look like her life was in danger, but it would be impossible to tell if she had internal injuries. Merrick felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find Dagonet staring at him with a concerned look. It was then that he noticed that he was shaking with rage. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down and look at the situation rationally. Obviously they could not be seen. That was essential. Killing these men here was an option, but it would raise suspicions quickly since there were so many of them. Sadly, that was the only solution that presently came to mind. That was, until one of the men sitting around the fire rose to his feet and started stumbling towards where Merrick, Dagonet and Lancelot were hiding in the forest so he could empty his bladder. Merrick backed up quietly, motioning to the men behind him to do the same before they were seen. As soon as the Saxon was out of the immediate line of the other Merrick drew his dagger, rushed the man from behind and slit his throat in one fluid, practiced motion. There was a slight gurgling noise and then his body went limp and fell backwards into Merrick's waiting arms. He quickly began stripping him before the blood set in and stained his attire.

"With that red hair you'll never pass as him," Lancelot pointed out. Merrick glared at him, and then realized that he was right. He was nowhere near the size of him either. They would need someone much sturdier… Merrick's eyes moved involuntarily to Dagonet's stoic form, and a slow, reckless smile spread across his face.

Minutes later, a tall, bulky Saxon strode back into the camp in an alarmed manner, claiming that there was a large fight occurring on the other side of camp. All of the men sitting around the fire leapt up and ran in that direction, not wanting to miss out on any bloodshed.

-Quinn's POV, Still Flashback!-



I didn't want to wake up, but with all of the racket going on around me it was hard to stay asleep. My eyes opened against my will, and I saw all of the Saxons rush by me, for once not stopping to place a blow. I started to relax, but then a dark shape moved out of the trees and started towards me at a slow, calculated pace. Shit, I thought, closing my eyes again. I spoke too soon.

"Jesus, Quinn," an extremely familiar voice breathed. My eyes flew open before my mind could even comprehend what was going on. They met a pair of ice grey ones.

"Merrick!" What was meant to be an exclamation left my lips as a sob. Merrick cut the rope holding me up with one hand, while wrapping the other arm around my waist to support my weight as he freed my legs.

"Shh," he comforted me gently. "I'm here now, it's all right." All I could do was bury my head into his chest and sob into his shirt as he gently lowered me to the ground in a sitting position.

"Wh- what are you doing here?" I managed to ask. He grinned.

"Rescuing you, of course," he stated casually.

"How?" I asked.

"Well Tristan came back and reported what happened, so we picked up their trail and came after you."

"Everyone's here then?" I assumed. He grimaced.

"Not exactly. Dagonet is providing us with a distraction, and Lancelot is watching out for any stragglers." I raised my eyebrows.

"You brought Lancelot with you?" I asked incredulously.

"He volunteered, and I wasn't in a position to turn him down. He's actually the one who found you," Merrick informed me. Uh oh. I felt the blood rush to my face as I realized that Lancelot had seen me naked. Actually, come to think of it, I was still naked. Merrick seemed to remember this at about the same time as I did. He immediately looked away, blushing, and pulled his tunic over his head and off his body, holding it out to me. I took it and tried to put it on, but my arms were numb and wouldn't go over my head. Not to mention the lance of fire that shot through my right wrist, making me gasp out loud. Yup, that was broken. Merrick's head whipped around instinctively at my pain and he helped me pull my arms through the sleeves, and then started rubbing the feeling back into my good arm briskly. It hurt, a lot at first, as the blood rushed back into those unused parts, but after a minute or two it subsided into a dull ache. Merrick moved onto my legs as I hurriedly stretched out my upper body.

"How long have you been tied up?" Merrick questioned. I shrugged.



"I have no idea," I answered truthfully. "It's been easier to just stay unconscious," I explained. Merrick's eyes flashed dangerously, and I put a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey," I said, causing him to meet my eyes. "I'm ok. You're here, and now we can go home. Just get me out of here, Merrick, and everything will be all right."

"I should have been able to do something. We promised to protect each other, and I let you down."

"Merrick stop it. There's no way you can possibly blame yourself for this one," I joked lightly, trying to get him to smile. It didn't work. Instead, he stopped rubbing my calves and sat down hard on his butt.

"Don't do this to me again, ok Quinn?" He asked, his voice low and shaky. "You don't know what it was like for me, when Tristan came back without you. When I didn't know if you were alive or dead. I got… very angry," he sighed after a long pause. "When Arthur told me not to come after you until we got reinforcements cam… I almost lost it." I reached out to take his hand.

"Merrick," I began in a low, soothing tone, but he jerked away from my touch, standing up suddenly and backing up a few paces.

"You don't understand, Quinn. I almost attacked Arthur. Arthur, Quinn!" He shouted, his entire body shaking visibly. I wanted to get up and run over to him, hug him tightly and tell him that everything would be fine, but my body could barely keep me sitting upright, never mind standing, so we lapsed into an awkward silence. Somewhere in the distance a hawk called out in two short blasts. It sounded very familiar, like the old signals we had used in our old missions. Merrick's head snapped up, suddenly intently focused again. The noise repeated urgently, and his eyes widened.

"Shit," he swore silently, coming back over towards me. "We need to get out of here," he whispered.

"Well, duh, I kind of had that part figured out," I joked.

"No, we need to get out now," he repeated, and I saw a flash of real fear in his eyes. That frightened me more than anything else could have. Merrick was never scared.

"I can't move," I whispered hoarsely. Merrick didn't say anything else, but rather bent down and picked me up, the action barely taking him any effort at all. He started walking towards the woods, being careful not to jostle me too much. We were about halfway across the clearing, so close to the woods, when a Saxon stepped around the tree that I had been tied to, letting out a surprised gasp when he found me missing. Then he saw us. Merrick froze, looking the Saxon in the eyes. Then he began to move backwards very slowly, inching towards the forest.



"Quinn, you need to trust me," he whispered, lips not moving at all. I nodded once, my heart pounding a million miles a minute. Merrick drew a deep breath, and then sprinted towards the forest, long legs flying. He took about ten steps before he suddenly stumbled, and we both came crashing to the ground. He acted instinctively in the split second before we hit, wrapping his body around mine, sheltering me from the hard ground as he turned the fall into a roll, bringing is tumbling into the woods. As soon as we stopped moving Merrick rolled away from me, going back towards the clearing. I didn't know why until I saw the Saxon charging at us. Merrick waited until he was nearly on top of him, then stepped to the side and grabbed the man's sword arm as he tried to skewer him, twisting it behind his back until the weapon fell out of his fingers. Then he bent down, picked up the sword and drove it into the Saxon's gut. The man gurgled a little and then fell to the ground. Merrick ripped the sword free, and then fell to his knees, panting, one hand clutching his left thigh. There was a small knife buried to the hilt in the meat of his muscle. That explained why we had fallen. He grasped the hilt, grimacing in discomfort, and then ripped it free. Somehow he held his cry in mostly, but a strangled gasp escaped his lips. Sadly, it was enough to give away our location to the five Saxon warriors who had entered the clearing and were looking for their comrade. They began stalking towards where we were hidden in the growth.

"Quinn," Merrick breathed, not looking anywhere near me. "I want you to crawl into the forest as fast as you can for as long as you can. They haven't seen you yet, they don't know where you are."

"Merrick, I'm not leaving you," I whispered.

"I'll be right behind you, Quinn" he reassured me quietly. "I just have to take care of this and then I'll follow you back."

"But you're hurt. There's too many for you to take on alone," I protested. He grimaced.

"It's fine. The wound isn't too bad. And besides, these Saxons aren't good fighters. This will be easy." His voice was too flat, and free of any emotion.

"You're lying," I whispered. Merrick turned his head and met my eyes.

"Goodbye, Quinn." Then he turned around and strode into the clearing, sword held in a loose ready position by his side. He met the first Saxon warrior a moment later. His sword blurred, countering blows and occasionally dealing its own. He made a good strike and the Saxon fell, blood spurting from his chest. Then all four of the remaining men closed in on him at once. I lost him in a whirl of bodies.

"No!" I shouted, trying to move towards him, to help him somehow. I managed to struggle to my knees, lurching towards the clearing.

"No, Merrick-" my cry was cut off by a hand covering my mouth and pulling me back gently.



"Shh," Lancelot whispered in my ear as he held me against his body. "Come on," he urged me, and began pulling me away from the battle. I struggled against him as hard as I could, trying to yell through his hand to distract at least some of the Saxons. I couldn't. I could just watch and cry as I was dragged away from my best friend, who had given everything to save me.