In the end, it had been Djaq who'd decided the order in which they would speak to Robin. The gang trusted her decisions, which were backed with the cool logic that accompanied most of her actions. She'd explained to them that it would be best to ease Robin back into his memories, like one would ease into a hot bath.

"Go in too fast, and you'll only get burned," she nodded confidently. Little John had been first because he had been present when Robin had first gotten the idea to rob from the rich and give to the poor. Much had quickly pointed out that he and Will had also been present, but Djaq had been prepared for his initial indignation.

"Yes, but Little John didn't try to kill the Sheriff. Besides, Much, you have to go last," she raised a hand to stop him from objecting. "You know Robin the best. You know his secrets." This statement seemed to bolster Much's confidence, and he calmed down, nodding at Djaq as she stepped into the camp.

---

Robin looked far more relaxed, sprawled out by the fire, leaning on his elbows as the orange and red flames danced before him. He couldn't say that he remembered Little John, or any of the events that he'd described to him, but there was a familiar quality to the man's voice. It was honesty. When he'd calmed down enough to truly listen to the man, Robin instinctively knew that he could believe what he'd said.

"Robin?" He looked up, peering over the fire to see that someone else had entered the camp. It was the Saracen woman. Robin couldn't help but think to himself that she was very pretty, but instantly his mind reached back to images of Marian, and he pushed the thought from his mind. She sat down next to him, looking at the fire, sneaking sideways glances at him, readying herself to talk.

"I'm Saffiya, but I prefer that you call me Djaq," she started. "And you are Robin Hood."

"That seems to be the consensus," Robin smiled. "Don't take this the wrong way, Djaq, but why are you so far from home?"

"I was brought into this country as a slave. I was with a group of men that the Sheriff bought to work in his silver mine. You and the gang freed us, and I wound up staying," she recalled fondly.

"Why?" Robin asked, leaning forward.

"Why what?" Djaq asked in return.

"Why would you want to stay in England? Why not go back to the Holy Land?" Robin specified, a hint of curiosity in the question. He seemed to realize how the question might've come across, and he hastily corrected himself, not wanting to seem like he resented her presence. "I mean, didn't you want to return to your family, rather than stay with a gang of people that you didn't know?" Djaq thought about her answer for a moment. No one in the gang had ever asked her that before, they'd just accepted the fact that she had joined them and went with it.

"At first, I stayed because you understood me," Djaq admitted. "You understood my language and my culture."

"I understood your language?" Robin was intrigued. "I can speak it?"

"Yes, you can," Djaq nodded matter-of-factly.

"But I'll have forgotten it," Robin muttered dejectedly, looking away from Djaq.

"You can get your memories back, Robin," she said encouragingly. Robin sat up, shaking his head.

"I can't! I've been trying to remember, and I can't! I look for answers, and I get more questions. It's like there's nothing in my head but darkness, and I don't have a light," he despaired. Djaq sighed, walking out of the camp.

"As-salamu alaykum," she said before leaving.

"Wa alaykum as-salām," Robin blurted out reflexively. He looked over at Djaq, eyes wide. She was smiling almost victoriously.

"You're still in there, Robin Hood. You'll find your way back," she reassured, hands in her pockets as she left him to his thoughts.

---

Allan sat on the battlements, staring out at the forest. It was a nice night; the wind was strong enough to be noticed, but not so strong that it was an inconvenience. Allan enjoyed the moment of calm, taking the opportunity to reflect on the past few weeks. Other than the occasional, heart-pounding adventure, things had been relatively slow going. After his whirlwind of a wedding, however, things had picked up in a flurry of events.

Robin had been captured only a day after Allan and Morgan had said their vows, and things had only gone downhill from there. Gathered from the few moments of consciousness that Robin experienced before blacking out, the physician determined that he'd suffered a terrible trauma and would likely have trouble remembering the details of his life.

From that point, Allan had been engaged in a seemingly endless dance, trying to convince the Sheriff that his plan would work while trying to keep his concern for Robin hidden. On top of that, he'd had to convince an angry Marian that he wasn't really trying to hurt Robin's reputation. It was somehow far more difficult to talk to Marian when she was waving a dagger in his face. Given everything that had happened, Allan had not seen as much of Morgan as he had hoped to.

He was wondering if he was getting a taste of what it was like for Robin and Marian when Guy found him.

"Allan, get to bed. You have work in the morning," he ordered. Allan waited until he'd turned to walk away before rolling his eyes. Whoever'd come up with the phrase "all work and no play" had obvious had Guy in mind. Allan followed Guy down the winding stairway, shoving his hands into his pocket. He casually glanced at the small contingent of people that had arrived at the castle gate, smirking as Guy went to meet them.

He supposed that Guy was right. He and Marian did have work to do in the morning. Help Robin get his memories back. Pull one of the largest heists in the history of Nottingham. Lie like a dog when asked if he'd had a hand in the actions of his old gang. All in a day's work.

---

Robin sat in silence for a minute longer before he couldn't take the quiet anymore.

"I'm sorry, but aren't you supposed to be talking to me?" he asked curiously. The tall, skinny man had been sitting across from him for at least ten minutes, and all he'd done was sit there and whittle.

"I was thinking about what I was going to say," the man replied evenly. From his calm reply, Robin gathered that this was normal for the man sitting across from him. In his mind's eye, an unbidden string of images flashed. Robin closed his eyes, trying to hold on to what he assumed to be a flashback from his old life.

"What is your crime?"

"Living in the wrong place at the wrong time. Living under and evil sheriff. Where do our taxes go? They go to Nottingham, to the Sheriff, to his birds."

The second voice belonged to the man sitting before him, though it didn't seem to fit. The man sitting before him was calm and quiet. While the voice from his memory had been far from screaming, it had also been far from calm. It had also been impulsive. The man sitting before him didn't seem impulsive. Robin shrugged. He wasn't going to get answers by just thinking about it.

"Have you ever been to the dungeons?" he asked bluntly. He was surprised that such a question drew a smile from the tall, skinny man. Will couldn't help it. Robin was acting like a curious child. Or Morgan. Will figured that either comparison were applicable.

"Many times," he answered, returning to his whittling, contemplating what he would tell Robin. Would he speak of how Robin had saved him from the hangman? Would he tell Robin about how the Sheriff had killed his father? How Robin had talked him out of his temporary madness? Will frowned. Djaq had said that a story too intense would overwhelm Robin. They'd lapsed back into silence, and Robin shifted beside him.

"To the taxes really go to the Sheriff's birds?" he asked. Will looked at Robin, raising an eyebrow. How could Robin, who couldn't even remember the love of his life, remember words that Will had flippantly uttered over a year ago? It had been the first time that Will had spoken in front of Robin. Had those words really made such an impression on his leader?

"I was exaggerating," Will grinned. "But the message still stands, I think." Robin nodded, furrowing his brow. There was a small crack in the wall that had been raised around his memories. Encouraged by Will's level grin, Robin delved further into the memory, furrowing his brow.

After a moment of quiet, Robin sat up straighter, a victorious light in his eyes.

"Will?" he asked. "Is that your name?" his answer was the way that Will's smile widened slightly. Somehow, Will had provided Robin with an answer without actually saying anything. Robin scratched the back of his ear.

"Little John, Will, Djaq…" He closed his eyes, listing the members of the gang that he had been reintroduced to, trying to recall the rest of the gang for himself. "Much and Allan."

"Much, yes. Allan, sort of," Will corrected. Robin thought about it for a moment, rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

"The Allan that's with Gisborne? He's with us, too?" Robin asked. Will stared for a moment before standing up, patting Robin on the shoulder.

"Sort of," he repeated, dodging the question.

---

Marian was aggravated. Normally, when things got frustrating in the castle, she'd don her costume and spring into action as the Night Watchman. Seeing as her costume had been burned, however, she was forced to settle for her embroidery. The irony of it wasn't lost on her. She heaved a sigh as she pulled the thread through the handkerchief. It was late, but she couldn't sleep.

Guy had come by an hour before, holding the bridge of his nose as he stepped inside. He had a headache, which meant that Allan had already weaved his magic. Marian tried not to laugh as Guy explained that he had indeed spoken with Allan, going on to tell her that she would accompany the former outlaw into the forest in the morning. He didn't seem comfortable with the idea, but it seemed that Allan had convinced him that more than two people would attract attention.

Initially, Marian had been excited. After all, she'd be allowed to go into the forest with a guard who, let's face it, wasn't really much of a guard. She'd also be able to help Robin. After thinking about it, however, she began to worry. What if she couldn't help Robin? What if he was doomed to be an empty shell for the rest of his life? Allan claimed that he had a plan, but he had yet to divulge the details of this plan. It was a fact that transformed Marian's worry into agitation.

She considered Allan to be her friend, but that didn't stop her from finding his current arrogance to be insufferable. She had wanted to point out that if he did have a plan, he should share it with her so that she would know what was going on, or at least point out any possible problems that they might face. In her experience, it helped to be prepared. Before she had gotten around to pointing this out to him, though, he'd slipped out of the room, leaving her with her thoughts.

Marian had become so aggravated that she found it hard to focus, accidentally pricking her finger on her embroidery needle. She raised her eyebrow at the small wound, where the blood had beaded up, as if to say that she had suffered far worse.

She moved to the wash basin, dabbing at the bloodied area with a damp cloth. As she cleaned up, she glanced out the window, where a considerable number of men were moving in the courtyard. They were shouting back and forth while Guy supervised, directing men carrying large chests into the castle.

Marian wasn't sure what was in the chests, but she had a hunch. She also had an inkling of what Allan was planning. If she was correct, than so was he. It was both stupid and dangerous. And she liked it.

---

"He remembered my name," Will reported. "He also remembered you, Much." Djaq frowned. Will had told them nothing but good news, but he looked bothered by something.

"And?" she asked, gently pushing him to continue.

"He remembers Allan being in the gang, but I don't think he remembers Allan leaving," Will postulated. "I don't think he's quite ready for that yet. Anyway, it's getting late. I think we should let him rest."

"Yes," Much agreed. "He should rest. I think he was still out of it from that strawberry concoction." He pointed into the camp. In the short time that he'd been alone, Robin had dozed off, curled up next to the fire.

"I think he's got the right idea," Morgan yawned, stepping inside and climbing into her loft, falling asleep before her head hit her pillow. Her actions seemed to remind the gang of how tired they actually were, and they quickly decided on watch duty before Will, Djaq, and Little John went to their bunks. Much, though extremely tired, took the first watch. He rubbed his eyes and looked at his old friend, who was sleeping by the fire.

"You'd better get better soon," Much commented as soon as he was sure that everyone was asleep. "I won't get a proper night's rest until you do."

---

Sorry that this is taking so long! It's been a trying week for me. The good news is that I've already planned out a healthy portion of the next chapter.

I'm not going to say that it'll be quicker, though, because it'll jinx it. XD Just know that I'm doing my best to get it posted quickly, and that it involves some fluff. Hurray for fluff?

This story is a little over halfway done, and I've actually started working on the next story, which pretty much outlines what Morgan was up to while the gang was in the Holy Land.

I'm also toying around with an AU story, but I'm not sure where I'm going with it yet. Someone also suggested that I try my hand at the Lady Clark of Books challenge, but I think I'd need a little more convincing before I take that onto my plate.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy. Please review!