The Last Man

He didn't think that it was possible to feel any lower. His head touched his breast, his feet were dragging and his heart felt dead. He wondered about this; one moment he was storming off looking for a vent to his fury and hurt, the next he felt as though he couldn't move - his feet fixated to the earth. Robin wished that he were dead. If he had died while trying to save Marian, her marriage would have been easier for him to bear. But now, now that she had willingly stayed with Gisborne, Robin felt as if his entire life had been for naught.

Was this to be his punishment? Could one careless childhood act have wrought so much pain? Surely, God was punishing him for firing that arrow, letting Guy take the blame, declaring to the village that that damned leper was in the manor. There could be no other explanation…

"Well there you are! Finally - I've been worried sick about you!" came an overly cheery voice. Robin realized that he had stumbled into camp - where people could see his pain, would give him their sympathies. He didn't want that - he wanted to be alone. He couldn't take anymore - Marian had killed the last of his self-control.

Much spoke again, "You're barely on your feet and you go running off to Nottingham - twice! We would have come after you this last time but you were gone well before we knew. Don't you have a lick of sense?"

Robin tried to curb his tongue but the words spilled off regardless, "Unlike you, Much, I do." Why he said that only he knew and yet he did not care, not even when the rest of his men looked at him, eyes filled with uncertainty and anger.

Much put up a brave front, he was not a lesser man, "Well we should all be happy that Marian is back in the shire. That should make a rescue more eas-"

"She does not wish to be rescued!" Robin's lip curled into a snarl at the image of Gisborne only he could see.

Much's dampened 'Oh' could hardly be heard above the silence. Much didn't know what to say. He did know that no matter what he said, Robin would still be cross. "Surely not," he struggled to think of what to say, "She - she loves you."

"Loved."

"Come and - uh -sit down and have something to eat. You haven't eaten a real meal in days - maybe that will clear your head. Yes, that's it, and then things will look up."

"I don't want your food or your company," Robin said, turning away, walking back to the thick wooded expanse.

Much gulped, "You'll regret that when it comes supper time."

Robin laughed, "No. I won't. I told you, I don't want your company." He continued walking, startled when no one called after him or followed him. Robin sighed and looked back at Much who was suddenly chopping vegetables with such a fury that he pitied them. Why had he lashed out at him?

Much was the closest thing to a brother that he had ever known. We always hurt the ones we love - Malcolm's voice rang in his ears. He had told Robin that after his mother had died in childbirth. Robin wanted to call out to Much, to fix what he had broken yet again, but he didn't. Although Much's head was down, Robin could see his lips moving - he desperately hoped that he was talking to himself and that they weren't quivering.

Robin crept deeper into the woods - away from his friends, trying to escape what troubled him. But how can one escape one's own heart? When his own love cast him aside? Hurt for a hurt - he abandoned her and she was now taking her revenge. Her retaliation, unlike his five-year absence during the crusades, was almost undoable. Marriage could only be broken by death…

It wasn't long before Much clattered his long thick spoon into the pot. His hands were on his hips in an instant, "Someone should go after him."

He was met with stares from the rest of his comrades. "Well, isn't anyone worried about him?"

"Let him be," was Little John's stoic reply.

Much huffed in annoyance, Robin could be doing something stupid and get himself killed. He needed help - he needed him… "If no one else has a mind to, then I'll go." Still no one made a move and Much stalked off. He glanced over his shoulder one last time to see if anyone cared enough to accompany him, "Well! At least I care!"

This was what needed to be done. Sitting around reading ledger after ledger and aggravating the peasants wasn't going to catch the great outlaw. Action would. Spencer would prove that he was a man of action; capable of accomplishing something in one day that Gisborne hadn't been able to handle in over a year. He would catch Robin Hood and the Sheriff would be in his pocket. Pliable, moldable, and then - then Sir Spencer would have his denied rights and revenge on those who deprived him…

The Sheriff's guards followed him doggedly - obedient and ready to kill at his command. The feeling of power nearly overwhelmed him. Wouldn't this be a surprise to Vaisey - who had no idea of his leaving the castle; the capture of Hood and the cementation of his newfound hand - soon to be master at arms. Spencer smiled to himself; this was going to be a good day.

Much traipsed through the forest, cursing his fate. Why was he the only one to go after Robin? Robin, who didn't want his help, but so desperately needed it - well in his opinion at least… He couldn't just leave his master to face the world's apathy and caprice - one moment loving him and the next smacking him down. Robin needed to know that people cared and, if Marian had done what he had claimed, he would surely be cut to the quick. Much would have to comfort him; he couldn't leave Robin to suffer alone. He just couldn't…

It wasn't that Much expected a different reaction from Robin this time - oh no, he had come to anticipate Robin's flaring temper - but he knew that this time, like all the others, Robin would eventually appreciate his efforts. Much just had to find him and he visibly shuddered when he recalled to mind how he found him last - lying on that rocky surface with his head gashed open. Much bit back a gulp and continued on his search with more determination and vigor than before.

He tore though an especially thick section of undergrowth and that was when he saw them - riders in Sherwood. Unfortunately, they saw him too… Nine men, clothed in armor and the Sheriff's colors, turned on him. Much did the only thing that he could do - he ran. Ducking, diving, scrambling; throwing himself under a thicket and sliding out the other side, dropping to his stomach and lying as still as he could - surrounded by vegetation.

His breathing was ragged; he gulped trying hard to regain his faltering breath. His chest burned hot and hard, it felt like it was filled with gravel, grinding and churning its way through his body. Much watched as the guards filed past - seven, eight, nine… There had been nine of them - their helmets easy to spot over the bushes. He waited till the soft thuds of their hoof beats in the supple dirt died down, and then Much crawled out from his hiding place.

He looked in the direction of the horses retreating backsides, smiling to himself - he had outfoxed them! Giving a triumphant nod of his head Much started to turn around and continue his pursuit of Robin. However, one word stilled him in his tracks. One word sent a chill down his spine piercing the very depths of his soul…

"Gotcha!"

Much felt his heart ice over as a hand gripped his shoulder; spinning him around. He was face to face with his captor - a stranger - the last man. Much could never remember the last man; no matter how many times Robin had painstakingly tried to drill that lesson into his head. Now here he was, alone and captured. No one knew exactly where he was and no one would come looking for him for a good while - he was done for. The only chance he had was to get away.

Spencer was hardly startled when Much relaxed for a moment and then tried to pull away with all his might. Spencer was ready and deftly drove his small dagger into Much's side.

Much felt his knees buckle as the blade pulled out of his flesh. He gasp; his breath sticking in his chest. Was he to die out here? Did he not even have a chance of being rescued? His head drooped; he supposed that he deserved it - punishment for overlooking a basic rule.

The wound wasn't as clean as Spencer would have liked. He had been careless and had managed to hit a rib bone in the stabbing process - his father would have been ashamed. The lesion was superficial. The only thing to be said was that this outlaw would still be alive when he took him before the Sheriff. Mayhap this would be even better then what he had planned - this might get Hood to come to them…

Pulling Much back up on his shaky legs, Spencer re-sheathed his dagger. "We're going to pay a little visit to the Sheriff. You might not be very pleased to see him but he'll be thrilled to see you. You ought to bring that little bird out of hiding."

Much wished that this man would kill him now. Kill him and be done with it. He didn't want Robin to endanger himself only to rescue one as lowly as he - especially since he might die anyways. Much would rather die than put Robin and the others in peril!

Allan walked briskly, more to keep his thoughts focused on his pace than anything else. He had skirted around town; choosing to creep through the edges of Sherwood instead. He knew that he was far from the camp and shouldn't expect any unpleasant occurrences with Robin or his former mates. However, Allan A Dale was beginning to despise the town and villages; the stolen glances and whispered expressions of dislike were almost too much for him to bear.

It was then that he saw a troop of the Sheriff's guards. Instinct, forced into his head by necessity, told him to run. Then the recollection that he was "Sir Guy's Man" sprung forth - there was no need for him to run. He didn't tempt fate though, and nimbly sidestepped them. The guards were waiting; huddled in a bunch - jumping at every woodland animal that snapped a twig. Allan chuckled silently to himself - if he had a mind to, he could have a great amount of fun with these frightened blokes.

He was tempted, oh so tempted, but when he heard a muffled gasp of pain, Allan stood still to listen better. Hearing Sir Spencer's voice was the only confirmation that he needed - this was bad… Instinct kicked in again from a time when it was only him - no one else mattered, you saved yourself and that was that. Self preservation he called it. He pushed it back and peered in the direction that the sound came from. Much!

Another instinct that he couldn't name took control and Allan stalked out of his hiding place without a thought for himself or a plan. Spencer was too absorbed in his prisoner to pay him any mind, so when Allan grabbed the knight's shoulder and spun him around - Spencer didn't know what to think.

Allan was so quick that Spencer didn't have the sense to keep hold of Much's arm. Much stumbled backwards when that appendage was freed. Allan had both of Spencer's shoulders in a tight grasp, "Wha' are you doin?'" Allan said giving him a shake - that was sure to haunt him later… "Yah' shouldn't be out bullying the peasants! We need ta be hunting for those filthy outlaws!" He managed to look beyond Spencer's disheveled form and gesture with his eyes that Much should go.

Despite his wound, Much managed to stagger upwards and tear through the forest. His blood pumped wildly as his side burned and crimson seeped between the fingers tightly clamped over the wound. Much ran blindly, his only thought was to escape and get away as quickly as possible. If only he could find Robin!

Allan's heart beat thickly in his breast as Spencer regained his senses, shoving Allan away and turning abruptly to see that his prisoner had escaped. Gulping Allan said, as natural as possible, "Come on now, we better be getting back to 'splain this to the Sheriff afore-" Allan was cut off by a pair of hands wrapping themselves around his neck, choking the life out of him.

Spencer bared his teeth, lowering his face inches from Allan's ear, and said, "I could kill you, right now, right here, and no one would ever know. Silently. Swiftly. Suddenly. But I won't, oh no -I won't. Just wait you piece of shit, I'm going to have fun with you. You'll wish that you had never seen your outlaw friend."

Allan managed to squeak out his next words, "That was an outlaw?" Even though his vision was growing dim and his ears felt like they would pop, he was still trying to play his game. He coughed and gasp for the air that was being denied him, "Musta been Much. No on' remembers 'im - not even me. Sorry 'bout that."

Spencer thrust Allan away from him, as if he were disgusted to touch him. He ran his hands through his shoulder length brown hair and kicked at Allan who was catching his breath on the ground - though the latter managed to roll away from the oncoming boot.

Jumping up, Allan moved as far away from Spencer as he could. So this was the price one paid for loyalty… Moreover, being as how he was endeavoring to serve two masters, he was going to be shelling out his life for payment twice as fast if he wasn't careful… He could only hope that Much would tell Robin of his heroics and earn him a good mark in that man's book of betrayals…

"Just wait till we get back to the Sheriff!" Spencer's expression was deadly and Allan knew this could not bode well…

Much thought his heart was going to burst. He scrambled as fast as he could, tripping over foliage and his own feet. Trying to avoid the guards. Trying to find Robin… He needed to warn him - protect him from a terrible fate. Alack! It didn't take long for the pain and loss of blood to stop Much's attempts.

He leaned up against a tree to catch his breath; slowly sliding to the bottom. He was gasping for air so loudly that he was certain that the Sheriff's men could hear him - wherever they were… Much jumped when he saw someone approach. Only when he realized that he knew the person did he calm and say a prayer of thanks. "Master Robin," he said, laying a hand over his heart. "I - I forgot."

In an instant, Robin was on his knees by Much, "What happened?" All his earlier anger and disdain washed away as he saw Much's pale figure leaning there. He looked intently into Much's face; catching the glistening of pain that flashed through his eyes. Robin felt his chest tighten to see him hurt. Glancing down, he noticed where Much had his hand clutched and there was blood trickling between his fingers.

"I'm sorry," Much said again, wincing as he spoke.

Gently, Robin reached down and pulled the bloody hand away from the wound. He grimaced and slowly touched the cut, "Oh, Much. What happened?"

"I forgot - the - the last man," Much was pausing as the struggle to breath without hurting confronted him.

Robin rested a hand on Much's forehead, "Who did this?"

"I - I don't know. I never saw - him before," he looked woeful and dejected. "I forgot - it's - it's my fault."

"No. No, Much - it's not your fault." Something panged him as he spoke - it wasn't Much's fault. Though he hadn't dared tell him, Robin knew why he had been thrown from his horse. Why he hadn't been able to save Marian. His saddle had been loose - the very saddle that Much had put on his horse. And though Robin hadn't had the heart to blame Much aloud he blamed him in his heart. But now, that feeling of animosity was gone and something old took it's place - friendship, camaraderie, brotherhood. Robin stood up and checked to be sure that they were alone. "Can you stand?"

Much nodded and struggled to get up. Robin grabbed him and helped him stagger to his feet. Putting most of Much's weight on his shoulders, Robin slowly began to walk in the direction of camp. Though his head still pained him on occasion, he wasn't about to leave his comrade. "I'll find who did this Much, I swear I will." He looked at his friend - his brother - and gave a halfhearted smile, "Let's have Djaq take a look at you first."

Allan felt the walls closing in on him. This was it - once the Sheriff heard that he had thwarted an attempt to capture one of the outlaws and lure Robin Hood into their clutches, he would be twiddling his thumbs and singing songs in heaven. Allan had never particularly liked the thought of that place - the harp wasn't his instrument of choice... It wasn't only what getting there entailed but the thoughts of being there repulsed him… Besides, if he was in God's likeness then wouldn't the Lord himself have a sense of humor? That couldn't bode well for Allan - God might decide to play some sick joke on him…

Spencer shoved Allan so hard that he fell to his knees before Vaisey, practically kissing his painted toes. Spencer pointed at Allan - as if the Sheriff were too blind and dumb to notice him, "This rat upset my plan to catch Hood!"

Looking down his nose at the prostrate form of A Dale, Vaisey said, "And how, dear boy, did he manage that?"

Spencer felt his mouth go dry at the Sheriff's endearment - his heart stopped beating until the threat of suffocation moved it forwards - maybe if he just pretended that he hadn't heard, it would go away… The words stumbled out of his mouth, "Your men and I had one of the outlaws! And he-" Spencer pointed viciously at Allan - "let him escape!"

Allan slowly stood up and placed his hands out in front of him. He had been quickly thinking about what to say in his defense - finally settling on saying that he didn't recognize Much and he thought that Spencer was harassing a peasant. He couldn't stifle a smirk - that blatant lie wasn't going to get him into the pearly gates anytime soon. Allan realized that his explanation wasn't going to be needed…

"You took who with you?" Vaisey queried, strumming his fingers on his forearm.

"Your guards - my Lord."

"Ah, I see. Now, with Gisborne babbling, and you bouncing out into the woods with my men bumbling along behind you - who was supposed to be protecting me?"

"My Lord, I-"

"Don't give me any piffle! You took my guards away from my castle to take a little walk in the woods - you imbecile!"

Quietly, Allan slunk away while Vaisey continued his tirade against Spencer. It appeared that he wasn't going to have to use his excuse after all. He headed to Guy's chamber to see how the perpetual lovers quarrel was going…

A/N This is a short chapter… *hangs head* Sorry about that... I do hope, as usual, that everyone was themselves, that Allan made sense, and Robin showed his care and consideration.

This was a chapter mostly to show Allan getting on the bad side of Spencer (who is he anyway? Any guesses?), Allan displaying some abstract loyalty to his former gang, and a bit of Robin and Much friendship. Poor Guy, he was only mentioned (what twice?) in this chapter - he must feel very unloved… Well at least he is still counting sheep. :p Oh, and we finally find out why Robin fell off his horse! Poor Much... :(

There will be a new chapter next month - I'll try to stick to those intervals.

Thank you all for following and reading this story. I truly appreciate it. :D