Disclaimer: I do own Much! I do! (stamps foot)

The sounds of battle drifted through the woods, and Allan felt his heart clench. He could distinguish Robin’s raw-throated battle cry, Much screaming “For the King!” as loudly as he was able, although John’s bellows of rage drowned the words out. And he could hear Djaq, shrieking like a banshee as she fought. In his mind’s eye, Allan could see her, moving faster than a cobra strike, slipping through the fray, leaving a trail of dead men behind her as she slipped past their swords. He chuckled, before he heard Gisbourne summoning his second line, and the seriousness of the matter crashed down upon him for the second time that day.

“Well, come on, Will!” Allan shouted, and the pair of them went crashing through the trees, running as hard as they could towards the din.

The clearing was a bloodbath, corpses scattered. Allan scanned the clearing, searching for Marian, and not seeing her. Panicked, his eyes combed the corpses upon the ground, and she was not among them. Satisfied that she must be elsewhere, he turned his attention to Djaq, who was unhurt as well, falling back to stand by John. Much was in the midst of a dazzling display of sword work, moving forwards towards the sheriff as he dispatched man after man. Allan was faintly impressed, but he had no time for shouting congratulations now, for Robin was advancing upon Gisbourne, bow hanging uselessly at his side, and Gisbourne with a sword in his hand.

“Must have taken leave of his senses.” Will murmured, drawing his own sword.

“And what a time he picked to do so.” Allan answered, stringing his own bow and aiming at Gisbourne, who was staring at Robin, with a faint look of terror on his own face. Allan was baffled by the actions of both men, but he sent an arrow whistling by Gisbourne’s head anyways, taking no chances. Robin’s death would kill Marian, and, even though the removal of Robin would have allowed Allan to being properly courting the fair lady, he knew that he couldn’t bear Marian’s heartbreak. Better for her to be happy, and with Robin, than devastated and with Allan.

Gisbourne ducked swiftly to avoid the arrow, and the spell was broken. Robin seemed to come to his senses, looking around briefly before yanking his sword from the dirt and bringing it around to defend himself. Guy whirled his horse, screaming for the men to regroup.

“Oh, bloody hell.” Allan muttered, and sent several arrows whistling towards the sheriff, missing by a hair each time. He heard Djaq, or possibly Much, shouting his name, but he paid them no mind. The easiest way to get them out of here was to endanger the sheriff, which seemed to have worked. He went galloping in the clearing behind Will, screaming, “For Robin Hood and King Richard!” as he decapitated some poor unfortunate sod who’d gotten in his way.

The sheriff fled, Gisbourne on his heels. A few brave soldiers remained, and Much felled them before the other outlaws were able to. Allan eyed his friend appreciatively, growing suddenly concerned as Much dropped to his knees. Yet it was clear that Much was not injured, only exhausted, and Allan smiled, and joined Much on the ground, panting.

“Where were you two?” John demanded, and Allan cursed. Will froze, looking like a little boy with a hand caught in the cookie jar.

"We...um..." Will began.

“I can explain.” Allan said quickly, before Will had a chance to stutter out the truth. “It’s a woman, a mother, she was giving birth to this newborn babe, right?”

The words came to him before he had a chance to consider where he intended to go with such a tail, and he was half-glad when Will interrupted.

“We were going to take the haul.” He admitted quietly. “Gisbourne’s money. We were going to take it to Scarborough.”

Allan’s mouth dropped open, but he didn’t contest his friend’s words. He saw Will’s gaze lingering on Djaq, and he knew Will was checking her for the slightest wound. He knew exactly how Will felt about Djaq, sensed his friend’s panic when Allan smiled at her, touched her, and when Djaq returned his gestures. He wished that he could tell Will that his heart has long belonged to another lady, one that he could never have, and that the only reason Djaq captured his attention at all was because of the resemblances she bore to said lady.

Djaq. Marian. Vastly different, yet their spirits were the same. He supposed that the two women would be great friends, if given the proper chance. And he wondered if, by courting Djaq, if he could somehow make himself forget all that he felt for Marian.

Thoughts of Marian immediately prompted Allan to look at Robin, and his leader was looking at Much, whose expression of outrage was probably all the prompting Robin needed. Much served as sort of an indicator of Robin’s emotions. If Much was outraged, then it was most likely that Robin was as well. The camp was silent, the air taut with tension, and Will’s eyes were pleading with Djaq already. Allan sighed.

“Yeah…what can I say?” Allan forced himself to say, trying to break the silence.

“Sorry.” Will informed him, exasperation in his voice. Allan cast him a cold look. It would be easier for both of them if they stood together in this, if Will didn’t try to play martyr and saint, if Will didn’t make Allan out to be the instigator, the black sheep devoid of morals.

Well, it would go much easier for Will, if his friend took that route, Allan realized. It would not go so well for himself.

Much clambered to his feet, still glaring at Allan in outrage, and Will murmured, “Really. We’re really sorry.”

Robin dropped his head, refusing to meet Allan’s pleading look.

“Well, we’re here now.” He offered, looking around the camp. “Saved your bacon, actually.”

This seemed to upset them even more. John looked quickly at Much, expression thunderous, while Much shook his head, hands on his hips. The former manservant looked more formidable than usual, and Allan was truly worried. Djaq was sitting like a statue, her expression shell-shocked, and Will was still trying and failing to catch her eyes.

“What?” Allan asked, wondering at the lack of yelling, if they truly were so furious with him and Will. “We said sorry.”

“Marian. Gisbourne stabbed her last night.” Much snarled.

Allan suddenly needed to sit down. Marian. A thousand stolen memories of her flood into his mind, playing before his eyes. Marian. No, no, not Marian. Marian could not be hurt.

“And she’s…” Much trailed off, drawing a heavy breath as his eyes shone with tears.

Robin murmured something quietly, and all eyes turned to him. Allan is pleading, praying that Robin didn’t whisper what he thought he heard him whisper, but then their leader repeated himself, louder, voice bitter and anguished.

“Marian’s dead.”

Will’s mouth dropped open, and he looked at Allan quickly, as if to check his response, but Allan was frozen, his world shattering.

Marian. He closed his eyes, and her face was all he saw. Marian, laughing, shouting, crying, pale-faced at his hanging, swinging up into her horse. Marian, smiling down at him from her horse, crouching before Robin, smirking at Much. A thousand borrowed moments, none of them really meant for him, and Allan regretted it. He loved her so badly, and now she is gone, and the only exchange he’d managed, the only compliment he’d ever paid her was, ‘Nice legs,’ a compliment he’d proffered only after disguising as a joke.

"No...she can't be." Allan murmured, and Robin cast him a scathing look.

"Well, she is. She bled to death last night, while the pair of you were off contemplating stealing Gisbourne's money."

"Will and I could hardly have known that! Not being funny, but it's not as if she were bleeding all over the place when we were leaving Gisbourne's!"

Robin's face was suddenly furious, and he sprang across the camp to tackle Allan into the leaves. His fist slammed into Allan's face, and Allan felt pain explode in his left eye. Robin was lighter than Allan, but his anger made him strong. He pinned Allan to the forest floor with his knees upon the blond man's chest, and sent fist after fist sailing into Allan's face and shoulders.

Allan was struggling and swearing at him, blood in his mouth, blinded in one eye. The others were in an uproar, Much's hands closing tenatively around Robin's chest, but Robin shook him off. It took Little John and Will both to haul him away from Allan, who sprawled, dazed, on the leaves, coughing weakly.

"Master!" Much scolded. "Beating on Allan will not bring Marian back!"

Much looked taken aback as the words left his lips. Allan could tell he wished he hadn't said them at all when Robin burst into tears, sagging into Much's arms.

"Stay still, Allan." Djaq's hands were suddenly on his chest as she peered down at his face. "I need to see if he broke anything."

"No...no, I'm fine. I'll be fine." Allan said hastily, pushing her away as he saw Will's panic.

And then Robin shoved Much away, moving to stand in front of Allan with flames dancing in his eyes.

"You don't believe me? Then follow me. See for yourself." He said, and his words were like ice as he spun on his heel and stormed into the cave.

Allan stumbled to his feet and followed Robin numbly, shrugging off Will’s concern and questions, leaving them behind as he walked into the darkness of the cave. It was cold and damp, and Allan hated it. Marian should not have died here. She should have died old, comfortable and warm in her bed. Not here. Never here. Never like this.

Allan bit his lip, hard, fighting the urge to grab Robin by the collar, slam him up against the wall. Allan wanted to scream at him, punch him, punish him for allowing this to happen to her. How could he fail like this? He was supposed to protect her, supposed to look after her, and now the woman they’d both loved was lying still and silent on a makeshift pallet under a dim light, cheeks pale, eyes shuttered, never to open again.

He wanted to howl in grief, throw himself down by her side, press his warm lips to her cold ones and try to breath life into her.

But he restrained himself. He had kept these feelings secret for so long. There was no need to reveal himself now. Especially when Robin was in such a state. Allan had no doubts that he would find a blade buried in his back if he made a single movement towards Marian, so protective was Robin of her body.

‘Too little, too late,’ A small voice in Allan’s mind sneered. ‘Perhaps if he’d been so protective before, she wouldn’t be lying there dead.’

He shoved the voice away. It was hard enough coping with Marian’s death without murderous thoughts of revenge against Robin floating about his mind.

“We need to bury her.” Djaq murmured, and Robin made a small sound of agreement in his throat.

“We must take her to Knighton Hall…to her father.”

A quick sideways glance at Robin yielded a glimpse of tears, knowledge that the man was hurting just as badly, if not worse than Allan. All the more reason for Allan to hold himself back, if only for a few hours, until he could break down quietly alone. He slipped his hand into Robin’s, clutching it hard in a wordless gesture of comfort. He doesn’t need to look to know that Much was grasping Robin’s other hand, and it was good. It was good that Robin had Much for comfort, for this could very well destroy him.

Robin took a deep breath, and then said, “John, I want you to…” struggling with the words before his voice broke. Allan squeezed his hand, and Robin clenched Allan’s hand tighter, presumably to stop the trembling. Allan knew that his free hand was clenched inside of his pocket to stop it from shaking, that he was biting his lip to keep it from wobbling. He and Robin were both held together by threads. One slip, and they’d both go to pieces.

“Djaq…prepare her body.” He asked, and the tiny Saracen looked shocked, staring at the woman that she had been trying to save barely an hour before.

“Will, I need you to make…” Robin was asking for a coffin, Allan knew it, and the man cannot finish his request, simply because it will make this whole affair final. A coffin…a coffin meant death, meant corpse, meant putting Marian into the ground to rot, and Allan felt a sob escape his throat, and squeezed Robin’s hand tighter.

“I need you to make a coffin.” Robin forced out, before John placed a comforting hand on Robin’s back, telling him to be quiet.

“In good time.” He said quietly. “First, we say goodbye.”

They fell into a line, an impromptu honor guard, and Allan wished that they had something finer to present her with, something better than a ragged band of outlaws, hands clasped in the torchlight, each struggling to hold back tears.

“She was a good woman.” Will offered, tears streaking his thin cheeks. “Kind…and considerate.”

“Good?” Questioned Much, a shadow of his usual indignation in his demand. “Oh, she was…She was…”

The former manservant faltered, struggling to hold back tears and simultaneously come up with an apt word for describing Marian. Allan bit back a chuckle, knowing full well the futility of Much’s task. Allan had tried since he’d first laid eyes on Marian to find words capable of capturing her, and, in all those months, he’d found none.

“She was alright.” He murmured, cutting Much off, and hated himself for not being able to offer something more eloquent, more deserving.

“Yeah,” He continued, eyes fixed on her pale face, “She was alright.”

“Her, we liked.” John rumbled, a ringing finality to his tone. It warned that he would tolerate no argument, and that even if any of them had born a passionate hatred for Marian, they were to hold their tongues or face the wrath of the enormous man.

“Her we loved.” Robin said softly. “Her I loved.”

Much gave a gasping sob, and Allan wished he could put his arms around the poor man. Much and Robin, both would need comforting tonight.

“I loved her, and I never told her.” Robin whispered in anguish, and Allan sympathized with his friend more than he would ever know. Both of them had failed Marian, failed to protect her, failed to tell her the truth about their feelings, and the regret was ripping them both apart.

“She knew.” Much told his master firmly.

“We all knew.” Allan echoed, remembering how it had pained him to watch Marian and Robin together.

‘I knew. I knew, and that’s why I never tried to tell her that I loved her. I stepped aside for you, and now I regret it. Now it’s killing me.’

His eyes trailed her face, memorizing the lines and curves and the flush of blood in those perfect cheeks…

‘Wait. Flush of blood?’

His eyes narrowed, and he dropped Robin’s hand, stepping forward to examine her more closely. He reached out a hand and tugged her shirt away from her neck, placing a trembling finger where her pulse should beat.

"What are you doing?" Robin demanded listlessly.

And then Allan felt it. The most beautiful thing in the entire world, his lady’s pulse beating strong against his fingertip, and he felt his heart expanding in his chest as a broad grin threatened to overtake his lips, declarations of love flying ready to his tongue.

“I’m not being funny, right.” He began, and he heard Much’s sharp intake of breath.

"This is no time for jokes, Allan." He snapped angrily. Robin took a furious step towards him, snapping, "Get your hands off her!"

Allan fully expected another fist to the face. Robin's hands were balled into fists, and he took a step forward before Will moved hastily to stand in front of him.

"Robin, don't beat on him anymore. Just stay here." Will said soothingly. "John and me'll beat on him later, after we..."

Will broke off, swallowing the lump in his throat, and Allan took advantage of the silence to blurt, “She’s breathing.”

He turned to look at Robin, and read the disbelief on his friend’s face. He threw his hands up into the air, pleading with Robin to believe him, pleading with them all to believe him.

"I'm not being funny. That's a pulse I felt right there."

John believed him, and flew forward, Djaq at his side. She took John’s proffered sword, and held the blade to Marian’s lips.

“On the blade…she is breathing!” Djaq’s voice was both shocked and joyous, as she held the blade up for Allan to see.

“Eh? Told you!” He moved back, towards Will, fighting the urge to throw himself down upon Marian and kiss her, breathe life back into her. He was trembling with joy, with the knowledge that she was not dead.

“What?” Robin was at Djaq’s side now, archer’s eyes focused on Marian.

Allan was trembling so badly that he barely heard Djaq's explanation. He was focused entirely on Marian, just as Robin was, only he was forced to stand back, aching to be at Marian’s side.

“She died?” He questioned.

“And came back!” Djaq answered, voice shaking with happiness. Allan brushed a tear hastily from his cheek.

"Thank god." He murmured.

Much looked as if he were about to burst into tears again as he opened his mouth and began, “That is...” only to trail off as he failed to find a strong enough word to express his emotions. Allan clapped him hard on the back, and John laughed, loud and happy.

And Robin was laying his hands gently upon her face, whispering, “Marian? Marian?” as if her name were a charm, and Allan was aching with jealousy, wishing he could be where Robin was. He can tell from Robin’s choked laughter that her eyes have opened, from the way his friend’s muscles all relax as he holds her face in his hands. Allan bit his fist, feeling as if he’d been stabbed. Witnessing their happiness, it turned his own pleasure at her survival into a bittersweet joy.

“Where have I been?” She murmured, and Robin answered her with a tearful, “I don’t know, but I’m glad you’re back.”

‘Me too. I’m glad you’re back, Marian. You'll never know it, but I would have mourned you longer and harder than Robin would have, if you'd died. It would have killed me to lose you.’

Robin was crying happy tears, and Allan had to turn his face towards the ground to hide his own emotion. The unbridled joy he felt at her return to life warred with his heartbreak, with the knowledge that she might as well be dead, for he will never be the one to climb to her window, to take her cheeks in his hands and cover her face with kisses. He will never be able to hoist her into her arms as Robin does now, preparing to return her to her home, and Allan wondered if Robin realized what a lucky man he was, having the privilege of holding Marian like that, tenderly in his arms with her hands clasped around his neck, looking at him as if he were a god.

Allan would give anything to have her look at him like that, and nothing, not even Djaq’s slim hand slipping into his own, can distract him from the pain of knowing that he most likely never will.