Summary: A second series of scenes throughout 2x11, "Treasure of the Nation", as the Gang fight the Sheriff for the Queen and the Nightwatchman prepares to face the gallows...
Characters/Pairings: Robin, Much, Queen Eleanor, Legrand, Allan, Marian, Guy, Will, Djaq, Little John
Rating: PG
Genre: Gen
Chapter Twenty-Six: Breathtaking (Part 2)
by
WastingYourGum
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He looks at him and his breath catches in his throat.
He sees him standing beside them, sword drawn, shield ready - ready to fight and defend his friends even though he knows he is thousands of miles away. Not since that fateful day racing through the forest has he been able to picture his absent friend so clearly.
When he blinks and the apparition vanishes he knows he will do anything to stay alive until he can see him again and let him know how sorely he has been missed.
For him, he will always keep fighting.
~~~O~~~
She looks at him and her breath catches in her throat.
No man can survive that - surely! And yet not only does he still stand but he roars once more, swinging his huge staff around his head, preparing to drive the odious little man into the ground like a tent peg.
His eyes widen as another arrow pierces his chest from the front and for the first time he falters. She sees the gleam of triumph in his foe's eyes as he draws a dagger from his sleeve and almost gleefully buries it into her protector's stomach. He crumples to the ground even as the shouts ring out from the cliff top above them.
"For the Queen!"
It is a pledge she has heard many times and in many places but the handsome knight with the laugh as big as his stature has proved it with his body, not just his words.
For him, she will mourn.
~~~O~~~
She looks at him and her breath catches in her throat.
For a second she imagines it is her love, before she takes in the taller, thinner frame and realises it is her betrayer, turned unlikely saviour. She finally appreciates the power of the name and the mask - no-one could mistake them for each other but the Nightwatchman must always be the man in the mask no matter his height, build or even gender.
She looks to the dark figure standing, apparently as surprised as she is, by the gallows. Was this his plan? Has he truly done something so selfless and for her? Maybe there is hope for him yet.
For him, she will choose to stay.
~~~O~~~
He looks at her and his breath catches in his throat.
He has slain his opponent but she still fights hers. He rushes to help her but there is no need. She screams as she plunges her sword into the mercenary's stomach and it's an animal noise full of passion and anger, not the scream of a helpless woman. She kicks the body away, breasts heaving, hair clinging to her head, her lips parted in a snarl of triumph.
He has never wanted her more than he does in that moment.
She looks over at him as the body tumbles down the cliff side, her soft brown eyes ablaze with the rush of battle.
For her, he would go to the ends of the earth.
~~~O~~~
He looks at her and his breath catches in his throat.
How could he even have considered handing her over to be hanged like a common criminal? Her smile is the only point of light in his dark world.
"Will you do something for me now?"
"Name it." She responds instantly, making him painfully aware that she knows she is deeply in his debt. He knows his request will be both more than he can hope for and not nearly as much as he could ask but of all his heart's most selfish desires, it is the strongest.
"Stay... and make this place bearable."
"I will stay." Her smile lights the room and she throws her arms around his neck. "Thank you." Her lips brush against his jawline just under his ear and it is more than enough reward to erase the hurt of Vaizey's backhand across the same spot minutes earlier.
For her, he would endure a hundred such blows.
~~~O~~~
He looks at him and his breath catches in his throat.
Each intake of air is a fresh wave of pain. He has always given his heart with all his strength and now he gives his hand in the same way, for once unafraid of injuring the one to whom both are given. His new friend grips it tightly, as if that act of hanging on can make him do likewise to the life he feels slowly seeping from him into the foreign soil. The bond newly formed between their hands thus echoes that suddenly created between their hearts.
"A stronger man, I never knew."
The words, like the man, are straightforward, not dressed in noble flattery. He asks what he needs to know in the certainty that he will not be lied to with reassuring falsehoods given to a dying man.
"The Queen...?"
"Legrand."
He turns his head to the quiet authority of her voice, loyal to its command even now. She is safe, unharmed and above all, he knows she is still protected by arms as strong as his. He laughs both with relief and at that final thought of her dignified majesty now and for ever allied to the peasant's simple honesty.
For them, he can let go.
~~~O~~~
She looks at him and her breath catches in her throat.
His wounds are terrible, awful. The arrows in his back driven further in as he fell on them and the wound to his stomach, deep. If he is lucky it has missed his vital organs but he is rapidly losing blood and lots of it. He laughs as if death is merely another great jest before his eyes close and she determines that if he is to have the last laugh, then it will not be that one.
For him, she will do what she can and pray it is enough...