Marian stretched as she put the bag down gently. It was empty now after a whole day of deliveries and her back ached with the strain.

"Hey dad, I'm back." She called.

"Hmph," was the muffled reply she got from the depths of the house. Absently she patted Dodger as she passed to walk up the stairs.

Robin and her father had almost comically banded together when she announced that she wanted to do more for her part in helping those who were being targeted by John's new regime. She had bristled under the repression and both men had realised that she wasn't the sort of girl that handled suffocation well – one being aware that he had taught her to climb out of her window and the other having caught her enough times. They had agreed on a compromise – she would take Robin's dog, who was enough to dissuade any sane person to keep their distance, and she would be careful and not deliberately provoke anybody. Of course the last condition was debatable, she thought as she climbed the last step and entered her room.

Her breath caught when she noticed the figure in the shadow of her curtains, watching the road. It had been almost ages since she had seen him.

"Robin," she said, a smile lighting her words.

He turned towards her slowly and her stomach dropped out. She hadn't seen that expression since the night of the riots, in a hospital, when he was telling her about the dead.

"Robin," she whispered taking a hurried step into the room. "What's wrong?"

"Maz," he whispered hoarsely. "What have I done?"

The next minute they were entwined so closely she didn't know where one of them began and the other ended. His face was buried somewhere in her hair and she could feel his body raking with dry sobs, his arms tight around her waist, and his heart beating erratically beside her cheek where it was pressed against his chest. His scent of sweat, and earth engulfed her and she shut her eyes and squeezed him hard willing some of her strength to him.

"I've killed them, Marian." He murmured softly into her hair – guilt and remorse lancing his words.

Her heart jumped to somewhere around her throat. She took a step back and forcefully dragged her wounded soldier's face level to her own. Piercing his eyes with her own she asked stolidly, "what happened?"

His hands fluttered uselessly beside her own before he placed them on her upper arms, holding her close but still at arm's length.

"An ambush...we...we stuffed up. Shit...it was a nightmare...Alan...John...Will..."

Marian closed her eyes at the names not expecting so many. She felt Robin shift beneath her sweaty palms. He sat down on her bed, reaching up and pulling her onto his lap. His arms encircled her securely, apparently needing to feel like he could control something.

"The Sheriff took them down to maximum secure lock up."

"So they're not dead?" Marian let her breath out in a whoosh, contemplating killing Robin for his melodramatics.

But he turned his soulless green eyes at her. "Marian, John's going to execute them."

Marian had thought her stomach incapable of anymore aerobics, but Robin's lifeless statement proved her wrong.

"Execute? Surely he wouldn't..."

"A punishment that suits the crime...and as we have been 'behaving in a medieval fashion he will treat us as such'..."

"Robin...?" Marian was almost afraid to ask after his ominous pronouncement.

"He's going to hang them."

"We have to do something."

"What? We're just four teenagers."

They sat, reflecting on the misery and futility of their lives but cocooned in the closeness of each other's comfort.

"My dad's been trying to contact Richard. He'll come back soon." Marian said.

She felt Robin tense as though he had been hit with a volt of electricity.

"Contact Richard?" he whispered softly. "Marian, has he been careful?" He sounded urgent now, almost afraid.

"Of course he's been careful, Robin. He's not stupid. He is a frontbencher in Richard's party – he has a legitimate reason for trying to get into contact with his leader...Robin?"

"Marian – you have to leave! Now!"

"What? Why?"

A sudden crash downstairs accompanied by the sound of loud voices answered her.

"Dad!" She was at the door before Robin caught her arm.

"Marian," his face was one of deep concern and, underlying that something that Marian could only describe as abject terror. Not at the police that were likely if they were to find him, to arrest and execute him, but for her. "Please," he begged. "Come with me."

"I...I can't," she whispered. She could hear her father's outraged voice now. "Robin, he's my dad. I can't just leave him."

"He's going to be tried with treason, probably you too. Please, I can't watch as they take you away. Marian."

"Then don't, go."

"Marian."

"It will be worse if they find you here too, probably count as collaborating with terrorists."

"Marian!!"

"GO!" she urged. She ripped her arm from his grasp, turned to face him and crushed her lips to his. "If they catch you here I will kill you myself." She whispered harshly before storming out of her room. She caught a glimpse of the warring emotions on Robin's face but then the door closed. The scene below her was surreal; faceless police in riot gear complete with automatic guns had swamped her house, her father was looking particularly frail and frankly pissed with his hands cuffed behind his back, and the Sheriff was smirking. It was that smirk that really irked Marian. These men dared to invade her house and smirk about it.

"What is going on here!" she demanded in a commanding voice. Surprisingly everyone stopped and looked up at her. She even detected a flash of guilt on the faces of the men closest to her.

"This is my home!"

"Yes, depressing isn't it?" the Sheriff said conversationally. "Check upstairs." One of the men hustled her until she was detained beside her father while a group of police surged up the stairs and into her room. She held her breath until they came out empty handed and determinedly avoided eye contact.

"All clear, Sheriff."

"Very well," he turned towards Edward and clapped his hands gleefully. "Well, well Eddie. I must say I am surprised. I got this interesting information two hours ago – an intercepted transmission to the Middle East – and from someone with level four clearance. I was, to say the least surprised, but then," he let out a laugh and rubbed his hands together. "But then I read the transmission and I am amazed. Collaborating with known terrorists and urging Richard's immediate return. And it's you, little Eddie Fitzwalter, the frontbencher. Of course I had to see to this arrest personally, what with you and the brat-"

"You leave Marian out of this!"

"I'll brat you-" Marian said at the same time.

"QUIET!" roared the Sheriff.

In the silence that followed a low menacing snarling filled the room and everyone turned to see Dodger, his hackles bristling, lips drawn back and large canines glowing in the darkness of the corner. He looked truly wolf-like and many of the policemen near him took rapid steps back.

"Shoot it." Was the Sheriff's cold command.

"No!" Marian cried. "Dodger, please, it's okay. Look, I'm okay." The bloody dog was just like Robin, so stubborn. He ignored her calm pleading and even slowly advanced on the policeman who had her by the arm.

Another policeman raised his gun.

"NO! Dodger! Get. Out. Go on! Git!" She took a step towards the dog but her guard restrained her. She resorted to a kick in his direction.

"Marian," he father cautioned.

"Git. Deus vault." She didn't know what urged her to yell the war cry of her childhood – maybe it was the strain of trying to convey to the damn mutt to go to Robin without explicitly saying his name that drew the subconscious connection. Whatever it was, it surprisingly worked. Without a look back, the dog switched seamlessly from hound of the Baskervilles to a runaway leaving them all stunned at the sudden disappearance.

"Well, come on. Busy, busy. We've got an execution to plan this week." The Sheriff said, swaggering jauntily out passed the broken door.