Things settled down for a few days. Robin's gang ambushed a few travelers, they gained some food and gold for the villages, but nothing of major import occurred until Tom took something from the chest they'd "liberated" the day before their last disastrous outing to Nottingham.
Her face went white and she let the little brooch fall from fingers numb with shock. "You said you took this from a traveler on his way into Nottingham," she said slowly. Abruptly she gave a brittle little laugh. "Well, at least I know why she betrayed us," she scoffed bitterly. "The man you took this from was either her husband or the driver carrying Lisette's belongings. That brooch was a gift, from my mother to hers. She'd have been furious."
Robin dropped his head in disgust. "I should have known. I cost you a friend and I caused you pain and for that, I'm sorry."
Tom shrugged. "It was bound to happen eventually. And it was a fool's plan to start with. We hadn't seen each other for months, I had no idea what she'd become like. Her husband has her thoroughly cowed. She'd never go against him." She sighed.
John's hand on her shoulder steadied her. She looked up at him, smiling a little, and put her hand across his.
Robin watched them and fought down the ever present sorrow when he was reminded of Marian. "We need to do something," he said suddenly as he rose to pace. "We can't just sit there. We've helped, but we need to do more. The people in Locksley, they're suffering. In Clun, in Nettlestone. We bring food, we bring gold, and the Sheriff simply raises their taxes. There has to be more."
"We do what we can." John's voice was firm. "We always have. Always will." He caught Robin's eye and held it. "We are Robin Hood."
The others repeated the words, even Tom. Robin watched them, pride dancing in his eyes. Yes, they were Robin Hood. He thought that even if he fell, they would go on in his memory. And that thought he shoved down deep inside where I wouldn't look so tempting. He would see Marian again, he knew that. No point in going looking for death.
Tom gave John's hand a pat and went to Robin where he'd turned away. He was a few steps away from the rest of them, obviously thinking hard. The others would give him privacy, but she thought maybe that wasn't what he needed. She caught Much's eye on the way past and he gave a nod and a tiny smile. Apparently he felt the same.
She caught up to Robin a few yards away, where he'd perched on a rock, looking out over the forest. "Mind some company?" she asked quietly as she settled next to him. They sat in silence for a few moments before she spoke again. "Why didn't you kill him?" she asked finally, as though the answer meant nothing to her. In truth, it meant a great deal. She wanted to kill Gisborne herself and the only thing that had stayed her hand was what might happen to the people if she did. Why hadn't Robin done it? He had much more reason to hate the man than she did.
"Because this way, he suffers more." Robin didn't mince words. If he'd thought killing Gisborne would have helped him deal with losing Marian, he'd have done it a long time ago. But the knight had loved her, in his own twisted little way, and killing her had broken something in him. The horror, the pain, the regret had been clearly etched into Gisborne's face as he let her body slide to the ground, there in Acre. Robin saw it every day, every time he closed his eyes at night, he saw Marian die. All the horrors of war, and now she numbered among them. "He didn't mean to kill her, Tom. I truly think it was an accident. He lost his temper, I don't know why. Probably because she got between him and King Richard."
"How is he suffering, though? He's got wealth, power... he has YOUR lands, your HOUSE... I don't see the suffering, really." But maybe she had. Gisborne's face, that last time in Nottingham, when he had let her go. It had been full of longing, of – she didn't know what to call it. Regret. Sorrow. Yes, Robin was right. "But it obviously isn't enough. He's still seeking power."
"He's suffering because he doesn't have her." Robin snapped his jaw shut and Tom would have dropped the subject if he hadn't suddenly sighed and turned to her. "And he's learning that all the power, all the wealth in the world isn't enough if you don't have someone in your heart. I have Marian. I know she'll be waiting for me, when I die. He has no one. And if he doesn't change, he never will."
"But he is changing, isn't he?" Tom was thoughtful for several moments. Gisborne had been truly awful to her when they met, and more horrid still when she tricked him to help Robin. And then he'd done a complete turn around and helped her. She still didn't understand it. "He could have done anything he wanted with me when I was in Nottingham. And instead, he set me free. Why would he do that?"
"Probably because it suited his purpose at the time," Robin snarked. "Don't trust him, Tom. Not for one minute. The one thing he wants in his life is power, position. If you stand in the way of that, he'll kill you too." He looked up at her then, his own eyes hooded. "You can't bargain with him, you can't argue with him. He will have his way, whatever it is."
"I know. Believe me, I want nothing to do with him. I'd love to shove my dagger into his heart, but that would be a mistake. Vaizey and Prince John would simply find someone worse to take his place." She shrugged. "I didn't come up here to talk about him, not really. We're worried about you, Robin. All of us. You're quiet, you're withdrawn. Oh, you go through the motions, you smirk when you think you should, you laugh at jokes, but none of it touches your eyes. Much is nearly tearing his hair out trying to figure out what's wrong. He thinks the next time there's a scrap, you might just forget to guard yourself and end up dead."
She knew the moment she said it. Much was right. Maybe it wasn't a conscious wish on his part, but Robin was courting death, nonetheless. "Robin, would Marian want you to die?" she asked softly as she touched his cheek to turn him toward her.
He fought that gentle pull, kept his face turned away. "It doesn't matter," he said in turn. "She's gone. And I can't – I can't hear her voice any more. I can't see her face. And I don't want to forget her, Tom, I can't forget her, how could I forget my heart?"
"You can't and you won't," she replied softly as she simply drew him in close to hold him. He was shaking, but whether from rage or sorrow, she wasn't sure. There was anger in his voice, anger at himself for what he saw as a betrayal, losing the memory of how her voice sounded, months after her death. "You'll never forget her, Robin. You might forget the look of her, or the sound, but never HER. She'll always be with you, in your heart. And she wouldn't want this for you."
He scoffed but the sound was almost immediately swallowed by a stifled sob. He was hurting so badly, and she didn't know how to help him. And he was fighting her loose hold, so she let him go. She watched as he rose and stalked away, obviously wanting to be alone with his grief, and she felt her heart break for him. And if Gisborne had loved the woman at all, even half as much as Robin, then yes, he was suffering. They were both in hell. Gisborne she didn't care about, he could rot. But Robin, her friend, there had to be something that would help him. There just had to be.