It was the coldest morning in Sherwood yet, and as she awoke Marian shifted uncomfortably on the floor of the camp. She only had a thin blanket for warmth, but had refused to leave Robin's side, resting her head against the bunk and keeping a tight hold of his hand. Stretching out the crick in her neck, Marian turned to see a pair of cloudy blue eyes staring at her.

"Robin," she breathed, throwing off her blanket and scrambling up to his side, squeezing his hand tightly. He was alive, her heart sung with relief, her other hand cupping the side of his face. It was still warm, but no longer hot to the touch - his fever had broken. "Robin?" she said again, for although he was awake he did not seem lucid.

But his hand very slowly squeezed hers, his fingers moving with difficulty. But Marian didn't care how long his recovery would be, now that she knew he would indeed recover. His mouth worked and then he swallowed heavily, but it seemed to cause him pain.

"Don't try to speak," she shushed him, pressing her fingers softly against his lips. There was swift movement in her peripheral vision and then a loud crash as Much fell out of the top bunk and onto the floor of the camp. He jumped up immediately, and it felt so good to laugh again as he scrambled over.

"Robin!" he exclaimed, his face alight with happiness. "You're awake."

In the bunk, Robin blinked a few times, his lips curling up into a smile. "Of course I am," he said, his voice still raspy and weak. "It's morning."

Much began to sob with happiness, and Marian shifted away to allow him to embrace Robin. The other outlaws were waking up, Eve gracefully scaling the ladder down from the top bunk she shared with Much and placing a reassuring hand on Marian's shoulder. Allan, Carter and Will were slapping each other on the back and clapping their hands in glee, while Little John watched over the scene, nodding slightly with a tear in his eye. Tuck was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the camp, crossing himself and saying a short prayer.

"Alright," Djaq bustled over purposefully with her medicine bag. "Everyone calm down, and give him some air Much, please."

"Right, of course." Much stepped sheepishly away from Robin's bunk, and Eve was waiting to take him into her arms.

Djaq took a seat beside Robin and began to examine him. Marian took a step back as Robin's gaze landed on her; now clear and full of intensity. They stared at each other for several moments, and Marian felt fear grip her heart again - even though she had admitted to herself her love for him, she wasn't sure that it changed anything. In the cold, winter morning, they were still as unsuited to be husband and wife as they had been before he'd gotten ill. What would happen when he discovered that she'd given herself up to Gisborne? That she'd infiltrated the castle on a hunch she would find the cure there? He wouldn't care that she'd saved his life, he would only be angry that she'd risked her own.

Their shared gaze was broken when Djaq patted his cheek firmly to get him to look at her, and Marian breathed a sigh of relief. She backed up against the nearby bunk and leaned against it, happy to have it take her weight. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for Djaq's prognosis.

"He'll be fine," she announced eventually, to the relief of the outlaws "But you need to rest, Robin," she added sternly and put her hand on his chest, as if anticipating he would try and rise immediately.

"Does this mean the medicine works?" Will was the next to speak up. "There's still sickness is Nettlestone and Locksley."

Marian found all eyes on her for instructions - including Robin's, strangely enough. "We should take the rest to the villages," she decreed, nodding at Djaq. She had of course told Blight she'd save some for him in Robin lived, but Marian felt no guilt in prioritising the innocent over him. "Djaq, Will and Carter you go to Nettlestone," she nodded to them. "I'll go to to Locksley with Little John, Eve and Carter." She knew that Much wouldn't be persuaded to leave Robin's side.

"And me, my Lady?" Tuck asked.

Marian still wasn't best pleased with Tuck, for all that he had tried to comfort her the previous night. "You stay here."


Cleared of most of the outlaws, the camp was very quiet, and Tuck watched over Robin's beside as he'd been instructed by Marian. The only other outlaw present was Much over at the fire cooking, although every now and then he shot glances over at Robin's bunk as if to remind himself that he was still there. But he'd tasked himself with cooking broth for Robin, and was dedicated to that purpose.

For now Robin was sleeping, and Tuck quite admired Marian's foresight in taking most of the outlaws to the villages with her. Such numbers were likely not needed, but she must have known Robin would not be able to find rest with his gang in attendance. As it was he'd pumped Tuck and Much for information about what he'd missed, and Much hadn't been able to keep anything from his master. The entire tale had spilled from his lips; of Marian allowing herself to be captured in Robin's stead, of Gisborne letting her go, Robin's sharp decline and their subsequent rush to the castle to find the cure, and of course the death of the Sheriff.

To his credit, Robin took the news well, although perhaps he was still too ill and tired to properly understand. He had drifted off to sleep very soon after that, and Tuck was grateful, for he was certain Djaq would interrogate him about it as soon as she returned. All that was left to do was watch over Robin through his rest, and Tuck was relieved to see that he seemed untroubled by the nightmares that had plagued his sleep for many days.

The camp was silent other than Much fussing over his soup, tasting it every now and then and providing a running commentary as to its flavour.

"It needs sage," Much declared after one such tasting. "That will help with his throat, surely?"

Tuck gave a slight shrug. "You would know better than I," he said. He'd been raised a Lord and then trained as a surgeon, he was not a peasant nor a herbalist and so he had little knowledge of such things.

"It does," Much declared as he stood. "I think there's a patch in the fields by Clun," he added, gathering a pack from his cubby-hole and slinging it over his shoulder. "Will you watch it while I'm gone?"

"Of course."

"Don't let it boil over," Much warned him. "It's meant to simmer, so don't let the fire get too high."

"I won't," Tuck smiled. Much lingered for a moment, as if uncertain to leave him with such a gargantuan task, but evidently decided that obtaining the sage was more important and left. Tuck took the silence as a good opportunity to run through his rosary, of course once he'd obtained a spare from his cubby-hole since he'd given his primary beads to Marian. He found much enlightenment in the ritual, the focus on speaking the words of his saviour and His trusted apostles. It was often in this method of prayer he felt closest to God, and most likely to hear His word.

Tuck was halfway through his second Hail Mary when he noticed that Robin was awake and staring at him, his eyes a much brighter blue than the sheer grey they had been that morning. Finishing the chant, Tuck then set his rosary down in his lap.

"How may I assist you, Robin Hood?" he asked, since he could sense the man had something to ask of him.

Robin stared at him for some time, as if working up the courage to speak. "Will you take my confession?" he asked eventually, his voice small.

"Of course, my son." Tuck turned to Robin more fully. "What sins have you committed?"

"I have been selfish," Robin said in that same raspy voice. "I haven't treated those I love as they deserve."

"Many of us are guilty of that," Tuck told him, thinking of his own wife and child, lost to his arrogance and selfish pursuits. Many times he had told himself that if he had been a better husband and father, he would have stayed with them always, let them know how dear they were. Perhaps they wouldn't have fallen ill, or at least if they had Tuck would have been there with them in their final hours; perhaps even have had the privilege of following them into the Lord's embrace. But it had taken their deaths for Tuck to see himself for what he truly was, which had spurred him to change his life.

"It is a strength you can acknowledge it now," Tuck said, knowing better than most the truth of the words.

"Too late, perhaps," Robin said wistfully.

"It is never too late," Tuck told him. "For those who repent. Perhaps you will not reclaim what you have lost, but you may find comfort in the knowledge that in the future you will not make the same mistake."

Robin nodded to himself. "I knew I was wrong." he said. "About Marian - I knew she was right and I was wrong but I let myself be ruled by fear rather than reason. I suppose...in the end I've always gotten my own way, so why would this be any different? I still thought of myself as the high Lord who all should obey, for all I declared that there were no titles in the forest. I made all the same mistakes, when I promised myself I wouldn't."

Tuck could not disagree with his assessment, but his place was to counsel, not judge. "You fear that you will keep making those mistakes?"

"Yes," Robin nodded and looked away. "I was a fool - I tried to cage a lark, and thought that I could make it sing with only my company. How can I be sure that I won't cage her again, even if I do not want to?"

"You are in control of your own actions, Robin," Tuck told him firmly. "You can make mistakes, as all of us do. But do not let your fear stop you from trying again, just as you would not let a small failure in your work for the poor keep you from fighting for them."

His words seemed to comfort Robin, who clasped his hands over his stomach and stared at the top of the bunk. "I have so many regrets, Tuck."

"As do we all." Tuck reached out and put a comforting hand on Robin's shoulder.

"I regret that I never saw Jerusalem," Robin said wistfully. Tuck was somewhat surprised by the admission, although he'd known Robin to have a deep and abiding faith. He nodded, urging the young man to continue.

"When I was on the Crusade, it was all I could think about," Robin continued, his voice soft with longing. "To have a Holy city to look to, as the Muslim does with Mecca, and know that such a place had my protection and loyalty - that was my deepest desire. But like all my other dreams, it turned to ash before my eyes."

"The King took notice of me because of my accomplishments on the battlefield. He praised me, rewarded me, made be Captain of his personal guards and I thought it was an honour, not realising that it was a shackle. My gift became my curse because I was too valuable to him. If I had not been injured I might still be there, fighting a pointless war in desert sands while my people here starved and died without me to protect them." Tears began to well in Robin's eyes, spilling down onto his cheeks. "Perhaps I should thank Gisborne for stabbing me after all, because it released me from that devil's snare."

"You should not blame yourself for doing your duty," Tuck said carefully. "Many of us found our dreams unfulfilled in the Holy Land."

"But I was so sure I would find my salvation there," Robin said, turning to Tuck with a deep sorrow. "I thought if I could stand in Jerusalem, walk where our Lord had lived and died, I would understand something deeper about this life and my purpose in it. But all I found there was death. It had once been this sacred, holy place and we had ruined it – corrupted it with our violence and hate."

Robin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "When I returned I realised that Locksley was my Jerusalem, and that it had always required my protection as the Holy City had not. I'd once thought that there was no glory or purpose to be found here, but I was so, so wrong. I understand that protecting the people here is virtuous and worthy, and that's is my life's purpose, which I accept gladly."

"And that is why you fight against evil now," Tuck acknowledged. "You are trying to make up for all of the lives you took in Palestine?"

"No." Robin's eyes snapped open, and he reached out to grasp Tuck's arm. "I know nothing can ever make up for that. No matter what I do here - even if I save as many lives as I took - what I did there will never be made right."

Tuck's heart ached for the young man and the burdens he bore, knowing that there was nothing he could do or say to change Robin's mind. But at least Tuck could provide him with with solidarity and comfort - better than most, he understood how it felt to sin against God by taking the life of a brother, even if the man whose life was lost called Him by another name.

"You carry many burdens and sorrows, Robin Hood," Tuck said gently, and pressed his rosary into Robin's palm and clasping his fingers around it. "Let the Lord lift them away from you, for whilst you may have committed sins, you have accepted them, and attempted to atone for them. That is all the Father asks, and all the penance that is required. Keep doing His work, Robin, by looking after His most lowly, and you will find the salvation you seek."


It was close to nightfall when his gang returned from the villages, after Much had forced on him two bowls of broth and checked the easing of his fever every hour or so. Robin had taken his attentions without complaint, simply grateful to be alive with his loyal friend beside him. It was humbling to be so loved when Robin knew he didn't deserve it, and had told Much so. Of course, the outlaw had blushed and shrugged of the compliment, but Robin knew it had given him great joy, and resolved to do it more often.

Marian, however, posed more of a challenge. He had seen her face in his fever-dreams, felt her cool fingers and lips chasing away the hellfire that had grasped for his soul. But since he had awakened she had seemed so distant and unsure he dismissed the dreams as the wishful thinking of his own fevered mind. After dinner, when the rest of the outlaws were celebrating with the wine Allan had "liberated" from the house of a local Lord, Marian approached his bedside cautiously, perching upon the edge.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, reached forward and brushing away the hair from his forehead with soothing fingers. He was grateful for her kindness, especially after the way things had ended between them. After his talk with Tuck, Robin had resolved not to press or pressure her, but to let things take their course. He would do whatever she asked - even agree to an annulment if that was what she wanted - but he would let her broach the subject, if only to cling to the hope for a little while longer.

"Much better," he told her with what he hoped was a cheeky smile. "Well enough to ride into Nottingham tomorrow."

"You will do no such thing," she admonished him but smiled when she saw he was teasing.

"So, you killed Vaisey," he said carefully, for after his discussion with Much that act had been on his mind.

Marian sobered and swallowed heavily, nodding. "I shot him right where his heart would have been – if he'd had one."

"Are you...alright?" he asked, seeing her distress.

"It's just...I could have overpowered him," she said, her face crinkling with regret. "Or just left after I shot him in the leg, but I didn't. I chose to kill him in cold blood, and I feel..." she trailed off and looked away, taking a sharp intake of breath to keep from crying.

"I know," Robin said softly, seeking her hand and squeezing it lightly. "Trust me, Marian, I know. Every kill you make weighs on your conscience, and sits like a stone in your heart. But some…some are easier to live with than others."

Marian's expression softened, and he was struck by her beauty as the firelight played across the side of her face and her dark hair. It was the face that had kept him fighting through his fever, which had kissed him and told him not to give up - and now all he had to do was be the same for her.

"Think of all the lives you may have saved," he told her. "Not only the sick in Locksley and Nettlestone, but all those future victims of Vaisey's schemes. You did what I could not."

"Eve went to Nottingham," Marian told him softly, squeezing his hand in return. "As far as we know Guy has proclaimed himself Sheriff, but there has been no indication of retribution from Prince John. Vaisey was out of favour, so I doubt he'll send an army to avenge him."

"Good," Robin nodded. "Marian, I…"

But Marian cut him off with a small shake of her head. "You should rest, Robin," she said, patting his hand fondly, and then walking away to join the others by the fire. He noticed that Eve had been watching them with interest, and she soon picked up her skirts and made her way over to Robin's bunk with a sly smile.

"So you are going to live, then," she teased, and Robin felt his spirit lighten - it felt good to joke around again.

"Sorry to disappoint you," he responded dryly.

She laughed and shrugged. "Well, hope springs eternal."

But suddenly he remembered how she'd care for him in the dark moments near the end, how he'd given her a task..."Eve," he grabbed her arm. "The letter."

"I burned it," she assured him, suddenly serious and intent.

"Good." He relaxed back into the bunk, feeling fatigued even though all he'd done all day was rest.

"Maybe...you should tell her those things you wrote about," Eve suggested. "It might help."

Robin shook his head, and looked wistfully over to where Marian was seated by the fire. "I don't think she wants to hear them."