XXI

Enter the Outlaws

The gravelly dirt of the road marking the outskirts of Nottingham cut into Rebecca's skin as she was forcibly thrown out of the town. She skidded halfway out past the gates and lay still. She could hear the closing of the portcullis behind her, but she did nothing to rise up. Her eyes were closed and her arms were stretched out, palms flat upon the road. The sun steadily dried the blood smearing her back, but it did little to ease the fire which was racing up and down her body. She willed herself dead. Never in the most darkest parts of her life had Rebecca dared to pray for death. Now, what little difference did it make? She was an outcast, a fugitive lucky to be given what little life she still had. Yet, she had no desire to use this to her advantage. Where would she go? What fortune would find her elsewhere?

Everyone she cared for was dead. It was far better to die and take her chances in the afterlife then live through a lifetime of loneliness needlessly. Her mother, her father, her son...she'd see them again, and after a life of suffering did she not deserve their company? This thought was soothing. If she waited until dark she would surely not last through the night in her condition. If she stayed down, she would die. It would be over.

The sound of mocking laughter filled her ears. An image of Isabella standing over her, laughing as she kicked her corpse over to see her dead face startled Rebecca into semi-consciousness. This was what she had wanted. Isabella wouldn't kill her, she wanted to see if she would do the work for her. Suddenly the images of the loving face of her mother turned scornful. Is that it then? Giving up? Going to die like a dog in the streets? No daughter of mine would give them the satisfaction...

Live. The sudden instinct leapt into her brain. Live. She had to survive. Isabella would scour the shire for her body. She was like a wolf, only satisfied until her prey was caught and dead. Well, she would prove harder to kill than she thought. With staggering and painful slowness, Rebecca rose to her feet, her back screaming in protest as she bent and uncurled and straightened. She stood on shaking legs. With unsure footing she started off down the path. She would survive this, because she had been through worse. All her life she had lived for the sake of others. She was going to learn how to stand on her own two, shaking legs from now on. She was going to survive, because she was going to be Isabella's personal ghost for the rest of her haunted life. She had been beaten too many times. She was going to live. She was going to fight.

With this tired sense of determination, Rebecca managed a slow, trudging pace into the heart of Sherwood. If she could find a suitable resting place, perhaps by a stream of water, she might make it through the night. She wandered aimlessly through the thicket of trees until, unable to walk further, she collapsed against the trunk of an oak tree. Lights were dancing around in her head and vaguely she was aware that she was shivering. She found it odd that she should be so cold on so bright a day. And then she was burning and as soon as she fell the pain returned with a vengeance. She stifled a moan of pain, but sound seemed so distant that it might have been a sharp cry. At least she was sheltered here. She could sleep for now, Isabella wouldn't began her searchings until the next morning, Rebecca was sure of this. Then, she wasn't sure of anything, for sound and colour grew into darkness and then everything went into blissful black.

***

"She's in bad shape." A voice announced, cutting through the peaceful darkness. "Where did she come from?"

"Who knows." Another voice said, "You can't seriously want to take her back to the camp, Tuck."

"Would you rather leave her here to die, Allan? Because I assure you if we leave her here you'll have had a hand in killing her." Tuck said.

"Was only saying, an' not being funny, but we don't exactly have room for every injured stray in Nottingham." Allan said.

"Were you born with half a heart Allan, or just the ability to conceal it from others?" Tuck retorted.

"Oh, now that ain't fair." Allan grumbled as he helped Tuck pick up the unconscious Rebecca. "I'm practically a bloody saint."

"Hallo!" A voice called out from further away, "What's going on there? Found something?"

"Much!" Tuck called out, "Found a girl out here. She's injured. Tell Robin I'm bringing her back to the camp."

"A girl?" Much asked, curiously as he approached them, "What in the—bloody Hell...Rebecca!"

"Rebecca?" Allan repeated.

Much pointed at the unconscious girl in Tuck's arms, "That's Rebecca! She's a servant from Locksley. What's she doing here? What happened?"

"I'm afraid we won't know the answer to that until she wakes." Tuck said.

"Servant girl, eh?" Allan commented as they walked back to the camp "Think we might all take a guess at how she got to be in this state."

"Doesn't matter now." Tuck said, "Pick up the pace, there Allan. The woman's liable to die if she doesn't get seen to."

"I'm moving, I'm moving."

The pair made their way through the forests, Much ran on ahead to catch up with Robin back at the camp. Through a grove and down into a canyon, they walked until they reached the foot of hillside, hidden between two sides of rock. Allan dashed upwards and seemed to tug upon the cliff face, pressing a hidden lever. Immediately the undergrowth shifted and moved as an awning grew out of the forest floor revealing the outlaws' camp. Tuck hurried inside with his precious cargo.

"Much told me you found Rebecca in the woods?" A man said, immediately rushing to meet the pair.

"Help me get her inside." Tuck asked. The two men eased the woman into the camp.

"Found her lying among the trees, nearly fell over her." Allan explained to the rest of the camp, including Robin, "Looks like she was whipped something awful." He whistled at the sight of the torn and bloodied state of Rebecca's dress.

A thin groan cut through the conversation. Rebecca was stirring in Tuck's arms. "Guy..." Her eyelids fluttered briefly before opening. Her pupils were dilated and she gazed about at the unfamiliar faces vaguely at first, and then she panicked. "Wh-wh-where's Guy?" she asked.

"Set her down on the bunk." Robin whispered to the stunned Tuck. She was positioned upon one of the empty bunks. She sank down against the makeshift bed, she had no strength to force herself upright, although she cowered into the wall of the camp.

"Rebecca you know me." Robin said gently, as he would speak to a startled mare. "It's me, Robin."

Rebecca stared at him, her feverish eyes darting about. "No." She shook her head, "No...no...if he finds me here...he'll never believe me."

"Who, Rebecca?" Robin asked.

"I have t' go." She said softly, struggling to sit up. "I have t' leave...have t'..."

Robin pushed her back down as gently as possible. This set Rebecca off into a feverish panic. "Let me go! I can't stay here! Get off o' me!" She screamed.

The others started forward, but Robin assuaged their momentary panic. "It's all right. She's feverish. Come on now, Rebecca, it's all right. Rest now. You're safe. No one is going to find you here. I promise."

Rebecca looked up at him pleadingly, her fingers clutching at the collar of his coat, "Where's my son?" She whispered feebly, her mood changing, "Where is he?"

"Son? Rebecca never had a--"

"He's here." Robin said, cutting off Much's inquiry, although confused at the question himself. He decided that it must be no more then her delirium, so it was best to play along, "But he's resting as you should be."

This news seemed to relax the feverish woman and she slumped back down upon the bunk, her arms growing lax, "He's here?" She asked again. Robin nodded. "That's good." she sighed, her eyelids drooping. "That's good..."

The gang let out a collective breath as soon as Rebecca fell back to sleep. "All right," Allan said, "Does someone wanna tell me what the hell is going on here?"

Robin left the woman's side to allow Tuck access to his new patient. "This woman," he announced, "Is Rebecca Tanner. She used to by servant in Locksley. As to why she's here...I don't know, but she stays for as long as she needs care."

A blond haired woman who was the only one seemingly unaffected by the startling display snorted rudely, "You're going to harbour that whore?"

"Kate!" Much exclaimed. "What was that for?"

Robin looked surprised at such an exclamation. "Yes, Kate, I think you owe us an explanation. Rebecca was a good friend to me. She practically raised me."

"She's Guy's girl." Kate shrugged as if this was common knowledge, "Ever since he came into Locksley she was always making eyes at him and following him around like some lost puppy. Everyone in the village called her Gisborne's Whore."

Allan coughed to cover a snicker at the derogatory term, but quickly hushed up at the glare from Robin. "You'd do best not to call her that whilst she's with us." Robin warned.

"I wouldn't, but Robin, what if this is a trap of some kind." Kate said defensively.

"I highly doubt sending a feverish and heavily injured woman into the woods would constitute much of a trap. It's by chance we even managed to find her." Tuck commented as he worked steadily on cleaning out the ugly gashes left from the whip on Rebecca's back.

"Just 'cause she's helpless now doesn't mean she'll be that way when she get's better." Kate retorted. "I don't want her here. Don't like it."

"Whatever you think of her Kate, Rebecca never did anything to betray me. She's a good and honest woman, and as for her connections to Gisborne..." he paused, shaking his head, "those aren't my secrets to tell you."

"This is the last thing we need right now. More secrets." Kate sighed.

"No the last thing we need is another friend dying." Robin's words silenced any dissension. "She stays."

"All right, Robin, all right." Kate conceded, "She can stay."

1192

The broom bristles were nearly black as it swept up along the sides of the hearth. Rebecca guided the broom along the sides of the fireplace, sweeping out a few of the ashes that had flown out of the hearth. Another servant was busy cleaning the mantel directly above her. Out from the foyer she could a hurried pounding of feet. She paused in her labours for a moment, she swore she could hear frantic voices from outside the door. Rebecca and her companion exchanged curious glances before the door burst open and a servant—one of the stable lads—came bolting in. His face was flushed with energy and his eyes were bright. "The master's back!" He exclaimed. "He's back!"

Rebecca chuckled low, although a twang of nervous pain throbbed in her gut, "Is that what all the excitement was about? For shame, master Guy arrives back in Locksley almost the same time every day."

"Not Sir Guy! Master Robin!"

"Thomas!" The other maid squeaked, "It ain't nice to tease us like that...oh, is he really back?!"

Thomas nodded fervently, "Standing in the hall right now with Thornton an' Mary. Much's with him too. Saw him myself. He's really back!"

The maid uttered a little prayer under her breath as she abandoned her chores to rush out to greet her long absent lord and master. Rebecca found herself following close behind, her mind in a spinning daze. She rushed out into the hallway and stood amazed to see Robin of Locksley there as if he had never left. His cheerful, smiling face was constantly turning about to greet his old servants and friends. Rebecca lingered behind as her mind sought to catch up with her.

Eventually, Robin spotted her in her secluded corner. "Rebecca Tanner." He said bounding over to her, still the same bright-eyed boy, "Is your stern eyed face all I am to expect as a welcome. Come on," He embraced whether or not he felt it would be acceptable. Suddenly, Rebecca felt very small against this boyish man, but Robin's joy was contagious, it always had been. She soon found her lips drawing upwards in a smile. She batted at him to put her down.

"Enough of that." She said, "Let me take a look at ya, master Robin. Hmm..." She circled him, "Haven't changed a bit, still as scrawny as ever. Taller perhaps, but quite the fool with that grin on your face."

"You get more and more like your mother with every minute. Tell me, where is Gemma anyway?" Robin asked.

"She's..." Her throat clamped shut like a clam. She would have thought it easy enough to tell Robin of all people of her mother's passing, but even mentioning it once more was enough to bring the grief back to the forefront of her mind. She swallowed hard and tried again, but after realizing no good would come of her chasing after a lost voice she merely shook her head. Robin understood.

"Oh no..." His voice lowered and the smile was gone from his face, "Not Gemma. When did this happen?"

"Four months ago about." Rebecca managed to say, folding her arms across her chest. "'S'alright. Was an easy passing."

She flinched slightly when Robin placed a hand upon her shoulder. "At least you had friends to comfort you."

"Yes." She said, reflecting on how Guy had awkwardly tried to console her. "I did."

"Poor Rebecca," Robin sighed, "Of all the people in Locksley, you must have been the least happy to hear of my return."

Rebecca smiled ruefully, "I would not go so far as t' say that, master Robin."

"But you do not deny it either." Robin said. "Still his friend. I wonder what he ever did to deserve such loyalty."

"Little good it does either of us now." Rebecca said, "You are come back and he will go, an' do not think I had not kept this day in the back o' my mind all this time. I am content t' be your servant again, master Robin."

"No you're not, you liar." Robin said with a wink before heaving a sigh at Rebecca's curious expression, "I think if circumstances had not been what they were we might have been good friends to each other, hm?"

"I've always considered ya--"

Robin waved her away, "You've always considered me what you were forced to consider me. I think whatever friendship you've shown me was that which you wished you were able to give another."

"That's not all true, master Robin."

"Perhaps not, then." He said, "Either way, you'll need not have to do it any longer."

"Pardon?"

"Gisborne leaves Locksley tonight, and as of this moment, I release you from my services."

It took a moment for Rebecca to understand the meaning behind Robin's abrupt dismissal. Robin merely shrugged, "You never had a choice when you came to Locksley. You should have a choice now."

Rebecca embraced Robin with such an intense fury they both nearly fell to the floor. Robin chuckled softly as he returned the enthusiastic hug. "Thank you," Rebecca whispered, surprised to find herself nearly sobbing with relief. "Robin...thank you..."

Ever since Guy had first come to Locksley Rebecca knew that eventually Robin would return. She had convinced herself she would be able to part from him again, but she had never considered that Robin would allow her to leave as well. She was well aware, that Guy may not want her, but freedom was better than remaining in this prison of a village.

"I wish you well." Robin said, "Now go, already I see you are anxious to make yourself ready."

There was no point in arguing that she wasn't, even now, fidgeting to pack what little she owned and to be well away from Locksley. The day had never seemed brighter. She dashed away to the servant's quarters, knocking over the broom she had been using not minutes before. It clattered to the floor with a most satisfying effect. She laughed, wiping the dust from her hands as she walked away.

***

Rebecca slung her haversack over one shoulder. It was considerably light, but she had no need for being bogged down with useless things. She had packed herself enough rations to at least last her until she was clear of Nottingham. She had a little money, and it would be enough to buy her food and shelter at any inn she happened to stumble upon on the road. She didn't know where she was bound for, or if she would be accompanied or not. Somehow, that did not concern her. Freedom was clinging to her like ivy; it was growing outwards in all directions.

She made her way into the manor, knowing that she had seen Guy return not but an hour or two before. Perhaps he was even now reading himself to leave Locksley. This thought dampened the joy spreading in her heart. Guy had always viewed Locksley as a mark of personal triumph, his revenge against Malcolm, and all the others who had forced him from his home. Rebecca was almost surprised Guy had not fought harder to maintain control over the manor, but even he, with all his arrogant pride, must have known there would be no contending Robin over his rightful title and land. Guy must have retreated like an injured wolf; wounded, yet still just as dangerous. If she knew Guy—and she did—he would see her asking him to leave with him as an act of pity and he would reject it. This did not dissuade her. She would be leaving either with him or without him, and while the idea of perhaps never seeing him again frightened her immensely, she had lived with his absence for several years, surely she could do so again.

"Becca."

The sound of her name caused her to jump. Guy was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. The fire from the hearth casted shadows over his features. Sparks of light would briefly outline him before highlighting him black again. He gave a small sigh as he noticed he had caught her attention. He took a swig from the wine bottle he held in one hand and placed it down on the floor. "Becca, Becca, Becca..." He said in a sing song voice as he sprang out of his chair.

So, it appeared she had missed his angered rages and had joined him in the following stage of self pity. She had hoped she would have gotten to him before this eventually fall, but the damage—judging from the bottle still full and the empty one she could see lounging beside it—was already done. She had no fear of him as he approached her. He had never harmed her while sober, somehow she doubted he would dare to try anything even while he was half way drunk.

"What are we going to do about this?" He asked her.

"Do about what, master?"

"This." He tugged at the strap of her haversack. "You're leaving me now?"

"I wasn't leaving ya, master." Rebecca sighed.

"No? Suppose you were only going out for a midnight walk? Complete with three...four days supplies?" He guessed examining the haversack.

"I was coming t' find ya t' ask--"

"If you could have permission to leave Locksley? Well no." He said like a stubborn child used to getting his own way, "No, you don't have it. Now sit with me..."

"Master, I'm sure Robin was clear on when he wanted ya out o' his home." Rebecca said, trying to turn the subject.

At this Guy laughed, "Robin? What in hell's name would I care what Robin wants?"

"Because this is his manor." Rebecca said, her impatience slowly rising, "An' he said he wanted ya gone by tonight."

"He said that when he was still lord of Locksely." Guy pointed out, "He isn't anymore."

"What are ya talking about?"

"Sit with me, Becca." Guy asked, "and I'll tell you how I almost lost everything."

"Master..."

"Come here now." Guy snapped, his good humor suddenly waning as he gestured over to the other chair. He picked it up and dragged it over so that it was facing across from the other. He slammed it down upon the floor.

Rebecca skittered over to him and took a seat. He stared at her for a bit, making sure she would not leave, before he too, returned to his chair. "Robin of Locksley, openly defied the Sheriff today. He rescued several criminals who were due to be hanged. For this he was made an outlaw."

"I don't believe that..." Rebecca spluttered. Robin may have all the bravado in the world, but Rebecca could never picture Robin purposefully making himself an outlaw. His people were too important to him for him to do that.

"Why? Can't believe your precious lord of Locksley would ever do anything wrong?" Guy said. He shrugged casually, leaning back against the chair, "The Sheriff has declared Robin an outlaw. He has lost his claim over his lands and once again, I have Locksley."

"So...ya aren't leaving?"

"Sorry to disappoint you."

Rebecca let the haversack fall from her shoulder to the floor, the strap she kept clutched in her hand as she tried to digest this new information. She looked up at Guy, only to see him reach for the bottle to take another swig of it. He stared back at her, clearly enjoying the tormented expression upon her face. She looked back down and spoke from the floor, "Robin said I could leave Locksley..."

"Was that what he was speaking to you about, then?" Guy grunted.

"What?"

"I saw you." He spat, "Clinging onto him. What were doing? Begging him to keep you on?"

Rebecca's cheeks flushed scarlet, "Robin gave me the choice o' leaving Locksley 'cause he thought ya were going t' be forced out. He was giving me the choice o' leaving with ya! I-i-if...if ya even wanted me t' go with wherever it is ya were...doesn't matter now..."

"Robin was giving you to me?" Guy clarified. He chuckled, "What would I have wanted with you? Did he think a servant girl was compensation enough for the years I gave trying to take back what my family had...."

He had no need to continue. Rebecca knew, and what was more, she understood, even if his words cut her. "I can still go." she said, "Robin released me an' ya have not offered to hire me back on as a servant in the manor. If ya don't need me...I can still go."

"No." The ferocity with which this one word was spoken, nearly frightened Rebecca, "You're my servant. You're not Robin's. He can't give you orders or release you from my service. You are mine and I'm ordering you to stay with me; because of the promise you made."

"Which promise was that, master?" Rebecca asked. "I would have thought any promise we had ever made t' each other would have long since been broken."

"I want you to stay with me." Now at last they had cut away to the raw matter of the argument. The frightened boy scared to death of losing his only friend was finally exposed. This was not an order or a threat. This was a plea, and Rebecca could not refuse; however, she could not shake the feeling of regret has the tendrils of freedom quietly slipped away.

"My poor darling." Rebecca whispered, "Ya won't remember a bit o' this talk come the morning." She rose from her chair, slinging the haversack over her shoulder. She placed a hand upon his shoulder. "You'll wake up an' see me an' maybe you'll remember pieces o' how ya asked me t' stay, but ya won't know why."

"Why?" He asked with childish curiosity as he gripped her arm.

"I'm glad t' know ya didn't want me t' go." Rebecca whispered, purposefully avoiding answering him. "Good night, master."

"Don't leave me."

"Master..."

He kept a hold of her arm, "I want you to stay."

"You're drunk." Rebecca said, "Go get some sleep."

"Becca..."

"I'm here." She hushed. She took his hand in hers as his gripped slackened off, and kissed it softly, "I'm always here."

Then she was gone. Guy staggered away to his own chambers shortly afterwards, and he did exactly as Rebecca said: he remembered nothing.

A/N: After all this time and still I hate writing Robin's part. He should be the easiest, but he's the hardest. Does anyone else have this problem with him? Is it just me or is he just a flat character? I feel like I have to add something to him every time to make him more interesting. Do feel free to give some pointers if any of you think you've got a better understanding of Robin's character.

Anyway, I'm sorry that this chapter didn't really have much S3 Guy in it. It's the only chapter in which he isn't really in it. I promise once Guy returns Becca is not going to be so sweet. Good times.