The after-effects of Guy's party came with varying results; some of the girls were too ashamed of their hangover demeanor to even face lectures, whisking themselves away to the spa for a hasty recovery. The young men, however, winced through their headaches with roguish grins on their faces – remembering what they could of the night's events. Over the typical exhaustion came a suspicion – where is Penelope? The piercing siren of an ambulance was a blur to the young adult's inebriated minds, but their panic and her pale body could be remembered by most of them – even Guy, who was busy deciphering Robin's disguise.

Nobody had heard from her for days since her recovery.

"Oh, gosh," a young woman gasped, her platinum hair tucked under Will's old beanie, struggling with the weight of the kettle in her arms. "How retro is this," she grinned in her characteristically dazed way – her voice eerie and acidic. "Why don't you, like, use the expresso machine?"

"Daddy's little princess," Saffiyah smirked, rolling up her sleeves and carrying a sack of supplies over one shoulder and easing the kettle off Penelope with one hand, "we're not all Paris Hilton," she added. Taking care to watch out for her new friend as well as herself, she unlocked the padlock with her nimble fingers and ushered Penelope into the derelict basement.

They sat cross-legged, with the lightbulb flickering above their heads, in a thoughtful silence. The more experienced gang member eyed the other girl carefully, painfully aware of her still frail body. It was amusing how Penelope was quite oblivious to everybody's attention since abandoning her previous life and migrating to the basement. Allan had attempted to sweeten her up a number of times, before realizing just how bizarre she was, and Saffiyah was constantly pressing the back of her hand against the girl's forehead to check for any symptoms of fever. But Penelope wasn't phased, she simply babbled bluntly about everything and nothing and would walk headfirst into danger – with a panicked Much dragging her back to safety.

"Pour me some," the eccentric of two sighed, watching Saffiyah tip steaming liquid into a broken china cup. Taking a sip, she tilted her head to a side and followed the trail of lightning-fork branches denting Saffiyah's nearest forearm... "Interesting," she nodded at the deepest scar.

Hastily rolling down her sleeves, Saffiyah diverted her eyes.

"...Could be some sort of, like, symbol," Penelope whispered, blinking rapidly, "like a tribal tattoo, yeah?"

Slightly in awe of the way the other student managed to almost admire her scars in a deluded sense of optimism, the way only Penelope could, Saffiyah chuckled to herself and crossed the room to open the basement door.

Will was stood in the doorway, expressionless and panting until his eyes shifted and linked with Saffiyah's caramel gaze. He smiled and she shifting onto her tiptoes to meld her mouth into his.

They stood in the same position, eyes closed, for almost eternity.

Nothing.

Saffiyah pulled away. The usual wave of joy that washed over their bodies when they kissed was being...strained. There was a forlorn tension in both their minds and Saffiyah convinced herself that the awkwardness of the kiss was more to do with the fact that Penelope was mouth-open and watching them intently from the other side of the basement.

Will, on the other hand, felt less of her solid logic. His eyes saddened at the taste of discomfort on Saffiyah's lips, having the knowledge that this wasn't the first time he felt her build a barricade between them.

Swallowing thickly, he ran his hands over Saffiyah's arms until he reached the cuffs of her sweater and pulled up the sleeves, touching the raw skin underneath with his fingertips. Saffiyah's body stiffened.

"Can we talk, somewhere?" He whispered.

-- --

PHILOSOPHY DEPARTMENT

"So, nobody else arrived?" Wendy searched the lecture hall with her eyes, hoping that the students would reappear from under the desks, "Where is everyone?"

Allan tugged the heavy satchel off his shoulder and ceremoniously flopped onto one of the seats, taking advantage of the extra space by propping his feet up on the back of a an empty chair. He turned to either side of him and saluted to the two other young people who had the courage to attend the lecture.

"'Ows about we start some life talk, hey – Miss Evans?"

Wendy rolled her eyes at, ironically, one of her best students. Whilst the other students determinedly scribbled down notes and chanted under their breath, Allan never bothered with the memorizing and simply rolled with the punches...He had perspective, he had spirit and – he was undeniably cute.

"We were discussing risks, in our last lecure," Wendy began, sliding her weight onto her desk. "The choices we make in a difficult situation."

"I think a person who takes risks is a wise chap," Allan commented, grinning widely at his teacher.

"Why is that?"

"Because you've never really lived life if you 'aven't challenged yourself."

The end of the lecture brought Allan swinging out of his seat and perching himself on the lecturer's desk. He retrieved an apple from his bag and crunched on it patiently, waiting for Wendy to finish assembling the lecture hall. She cleared the board, straining in her grey suit, then turned back to her desk to greet the student waiting eagerly on her desk. "Allan?" she asked, wondering what it was about the assignment he didn't understand.

"Were you spying on me, Miss Evans?" Allan smiled, chewing thoughtfully, "At the hospital?"

Wendy raised an eyebrow. "No," she prompted, "I just happened to bump into you."

"At three in the mornin'?" Allan frowned, then corrected himself, "I mean, it's none of my business and everythin'."

The lecturer sighed, "I just checked up on my son," she explained, shuffling a handful of papers on the desk, "He's not very well at the moment."

Simply out of boredom, Allan urged her to continue with his eyes. There was no persistence or morbid curiosity – just a welcome spark which allowed her to open up to her student – her friend, to be more exact. He was, in a way, the kind of young bypasser who would often listen and dismiss problems with an airy comment and his humor, as teeth-grittingly irritating as it may be, was always refreshing.

Wendy narrowed her eyes, pausing, "Are you going to have another heart-to-heart with me, Mr A'Dale?" she chuckled, "I have quite missed your endless conversations."

Allan grinned, hopping of the desk and walking the older woman out of the lecture hall.

"What's wrong with the kid?" Allan threw the apple core in the waste paper basket as he neared the door.

"Lukaemia," The redhead smiled weakly, "He's having chemotherapy, at the moment, so I'm -"

"Checkin' up on him?"

"Yes."

Noticing the hint of distress in the woman's eyes, the student swung his arms energetically and glanced around the corridor. There were no students in sight, thankfully, and the nostalgic sound of bells rang through the campus. "Ice cream?" he offered, gesturing towards the van nearing the campus greenery.

Sizing up her options, then realizing that there was no harm in sharing a conversation with a student over an ice cream, Wendy nodded. This wasn't too much of a risk, was it? "Just one, maybe."

-- --

HOUSES OF RESIDENCE

The metallic shriek from the taps slowly brought Robin around from his sleep. He blinked rapidly in the haze of light from the kitchen window and, through blurry eyes, watched Marian carefully place a bunch of vibrant sunflowers in a vase of water. Her chestnut curls had been roughly pulled back into a practical bun and splatters of pancake batter decorated her apron.

"Stop staring," the young woman demanded, still facing the window.

Rolling his eyes at her back, he let loose a wary yawn and peered at his watch. "I have to go," he mumbled, pushing himself off the couch and brushing biscuit crumbs off his shirt, "Allan's meeting me with the rest of his class, later."

Marian turned around to face her boyfriend, amused. "To win more people over?" she teased playfully.

Robin flashed an impish grin, "Yeah," he joked.

"You might not want to run around campus in your boxers," she jerked a thumb at the tattered jeans hanging over the side of the sofa, smiling as Robin hastily pulled them on.

"An officer caught you speeding on campus, yesterday," Marian warned as he zipped up his trousers, "he might be working for Vasey – and now he knows that you're still on site."

"Even if he did, I can handle it," scoffed the reply.

"How?"

"You know me," Robin winked.

"What would you do?" the young woman rested her hands on her hips, growing serious. There was so much of his self-assertive nature she could take, and her limits were being dramatically pushed. "Break into his office, again?" she paused, considering her next words. Deciding to follow Allan's 'better out than in' motto, she added, "Just to be called a 'hero'. That's all this is about."

"I'll be your hero, Marian," Robin puffed up his chest, soaring about the kitchen with one arm in front of him. "Batman style."

Marian rolled her eyes, "It's Batman and Robin," she corrected, "That would make me Batman and you - Robin."

Robin's arm fell at the thought. "There are no female superheros," he competed, "You can't be one."

Without even trying to defend herself with her inspirational knowledge about Wonder Woman and the likes, she shifted the conversation to the point. "You have no superpowers," she reasoned coolly, "And you're not going to swing around the campus looking for trouble."

Robin waved off her rage, closing the gap between them to wipe a little raw pancake off her cheek. "Honestly," he admonished, licking the batter off his finger, "It's as if you don't care about the Uni at all!" he teased.

With a sudden burst of fury and anguish, Marian pushed his hand away as if it were coated in venom. How dare he say such a thing. "Oh, I really don't care," she stated coldly, making Robin flinch from the contempt in her airy voice. "How silly of me to not take stupid risks; actually meeting the governers and buying – not stealing – supplies for the students."

"Hang on -"

"I should really take a leaf out of your book, Robin Hood," she continued icily, "and perhaps try to get myself arrested."

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Robin threw his hands up in the air exaggeratedly, "I really should be following your lead," he mocked, "That's it – I'm going to town to buy a see-through blouse, then I'll flirt with Guy Vasey."

Marian narrowed her gaze, feeling the bridge of trust and understanding between them slowly crumble. She couldn't believe that, from all of the leers he could have hurled her way, he purposely picked the most insulting and painful one of all.

"I thought we understood," her voice stung bitterly, "About Guy. I'm doing this for information, you know that."

"Oh, right," Robin sneered, "Information! That's what it's called."

"Grow up."

"No wonder you looked a bit displeased when I marched into that party," he raised an eyebrow, "Was I interrupting something between you two?"

But the envy dispersing it's seeds in Robin's heart had only more time to yield as the words tumbled out of his mouth with no control, no hinderance. "The amount of girls I see," he continued quietly, his eyes turning stony, "Who just use any excuse to use other people – they just want control, Marian. You're always one of them, aren't you?"

"I'm always what?" Marian folded her arms in defence.

"You've always been an upper class slut."

A slut. A slut. Marian balled her hands into fists, feeling the anger swell inside her – inflating with every word that left his lips. The hands, the leers she had faced...all rough, penetrating – but not penetrating enough, not enough to expose the true conviction, the desire to become all that she could be. But Robin had rescued her, when she had been scrambling through the dark on her hands and knees to find herself – the woman wanting to escape the unjust Hell they lived in – and guided her towards liberation. But, now, he'd placed her in a darker room full of more obstacles. She closed her eyes. Just more difficulties. His understanding was a lie – she had returned to her position, a headstrong, misunderstood possession...

He didn't know her at all.

"An upper class slut?" she opened her eyes, the glacier blue had darkened. "Is that it? Aren't you goin' to grope me, like the others boys? Or try to get me in bed, again?"

Robin frowned. He was trying to take back his previous words, the ones which had slipped involuntarily from his mouth in pure frustration. But, the midst of an apology, she dropped another rock on his toe. "I can't believe you're -" he felt the sour taste of betrayal spreading through his body, "I thought we agreed to take things slow, and I did."

"And I'm sure you were over the moon, after our first night," Marian whispered, "To have me as your little trophy to lean on. A slut."

"C'mon, I really didn't mean that," Robin nodded apologetically, "I'm sorry, right. We're in this together, all of it – the Dooh Nibor gang is mine and yours, you know that -"

"They don't belong to you," Marian spat, "And I don't belong to you, either."

"I didn't say that."

"But you meant it," she insisted, breathless, "You own and leave everything and everybody, and you think you own me, too! And if I'm too much, you'll just go. Just like every other man on this planet. You'll get yourself arrested, as if I mean nothing to you, and then...leave."

Marian pressed a hand to her stomach, feeling anxiety rush through her abdomen. There was more to this argument, and she was just beginning to understand it. Marian properly peered down at her abdomen and found herself frozen in awe and terror. She had been avoiding the truth for too long now, for so long that she had convinced herself that it didn't exist. "You'll leave me."

"I'm sorry about calling you -," Robin left his apology incomplete, the word 'slut' too filthy to be repeated. "But what is this all about? You and me?"

That small, pulsing addition was throbbing beneath her fingers, pleading for an input. Not now. She couldn't tell him, not just yet. It was all too much – for herself. Damn, she cursed herself. Why did she depend on a man? What was God thinking when he made Adam?

"Us and our fight against the Principal," she dried her eyes with the back of her hand and pulled up a proud stance. "That's all that matters."

"You matter to me," Robin's voice broke, he reached forward to grab hold of her wrist.

Marian pulled away. "No, I thought I did," she sniffed, "But I was wrong. You don't even know me, Robin Hood." She pressed a trembling hand to her stomach. "You just don't know any of it."

--

DERELICT BASEMENT

Much placed an arm around his friend's shoulders, hoping to be some kind of support – something to lean on, as he always had been. But there was more panic and worry in his tone than comfort, as he mumbled under his breath, "Is it – bad?"

Will's eyes were tinted red, though his eyelids weren't as pink and raw as Marian's – who was being awkwardly embraced by Penelope. "It's over, Much," Will murmured, glancing forlornly at the looming walls of the basement; their solid greyness as sturdy as the truth ringing in his ears. "I pushed it too far, this time."

Much's grasp tightened on his shoulder. "C'mon, couples argue, right?"

Will shook his head, "When I asked her again, and she told me..."

"Saffiyah's arms, right?" Much lowered his voice, "What did she say?"

Will swallowed, finding a bitter smile touch his lips. "Somebody in London," he explained breifly, finding the subject too perplexing to describe in detail what the man had done. "The landlord, the one who owned the block of flats she lived in – because of her family -" he paused, shaking his head, glancing across the room at the older student. She was crying, just as Saffiyah had been. "Look at us," he laughed shakily at Marian, "Bawling our eyes out."

"Is Saff alright?" Marian wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her voice trembling badly – broken from her argument with Robin. Her body was curled on Penelope's slim frame, in a foetus position. "Where is she, now?"

"I don't know."

Much glanced worriedly across the room at Penelope. Her face was solemn, but almost sleepy, which only worried him more. The way her arms were slung around Marian's waist, pale and bluish and her body swaying in time to her sobs, it was as if she was some sort of angelic spirit – in a completely different world to everybody else. Even as Marian's tears trickled down her arm, it was as if she couldn't feel a thing.

"Love, love, love," Penelope sang quietly, her voice frail and tinny over Marian's wracking body, "Why slit your throat when you could fall in love?"

Much flinched and Will rubbed at his eyes and glared at the girl in confusion. "What?" the photographer's voice croaked.

"Look at Marie whimpering," Penelope gazed into the distance, "You're breaking in half – just because of a lover's tiff."

Marian pushed her friend away, turning away from the young men so as to not be caught in such a state for any longer. This was embarrassing. There was dignity to uphold, her father had taught her that. "It's not just a tiff," she stated woodenly, standing up. She didn't feel like going into further detail. It was all too much for a girl of her – well, position. She scolded her own thoughts – what position? There were plenty of other women, worth as much as her, in this predicament. She held a fist against her stomach, pressing it inwards...Go away. Go away.

"So," Penelope concluded, thoughtfully peering at Will, then Marian. "You've both been, like, pushed away."

Pushed away? Will felt the tears burn in his eyes. He hadn't accepted defeat yet.

"But, there are ways -" the dazed girl continued, "To turn it around, bring them back."

Much let go of Will's shoulders and shot her a frightened stare, "No! I said no more drugs," he shook his head sternly, "I told you, Penelope, that's no way to escape -"

Penelope let loose an airy laugh, hugging her knees gleefully at Much's reaction. "Of course not, sausage," she smiled mischievously, "Instead of putting two and two together, we'll stick together the ones and threes..."

"What?" Much burst out, growing more confused and irritated by her twisted words.

Penelope pointed a pale finger at a baffled Will, and then pointed the finger at a defiant Marian. She turned back to Much and flashed him a meaningful wink.

"Oh."

- --

There will be more detail about Saffiyah's scars in the next chapter. We know, now, that the culprit was somebody in her old flat.

Eughh. What do you think?

Was it too abstract or melodramatic?

Next up: There's going to be a couple mix-around. But, oodles of fluff!

Please review :-)