Robin Hood Fanfic: A Measure of Peace

[corrielle]

Title: A Measure of Peace
Author: corrielle 
Characters: Guy and Robin
Word Count: 2,703
Disclaimer: Robin Hood belongs to legend, this version belongs to the BBC.
Notes: This is set some time between "The Enemy of My Enemy" and "Something Worth Fighting For," and it was originally conceived for the the rhsidebyside challenge.
Summary: When Guy's frequent disappearances make the gang suspicious, Robin follows him.  What he finds isn't what he expects.  


The trees cast long shadows on the forest floor, and smoke was rising from Much's cook fire when Robin returned to camp.

"Pheasant!" Much declared proudly as Robin came to stand beside him. "Allan and I took seven of them, and there were eggs, as well! Those for breakfast, I think…"

From his bunk a few feet away, Allan snorted. "More like you scared them, I shot them," he said.

"Not true," Much protested, stirring the pot vehemently, "but also not important. The important thing is this: they were fat, healthy birds, they will make excellent stew, and for once, there will be more than enough for everyone." He glanced quickly around the camp. "That is, assuming everyone comes back to camp for dinner."

It didn't take Robin long to figure out who was missing. Tuck, Allan, Kate, and John were all close by, drawn near in anticipation of a good meal.

"Where's Gisborne?" Robin asked.

Conversation in the camp stopped, and for an awkward moment, no one would look at Robin.

Finally, Kate put her work aside and said, "None of you will say it, but I will. He's gone. Off on his own. Again."

Robin sank down onto the fallen log by the fire and closed his eyes. When Gisborne had first come to the camp, Robin had soundly rejected the idea that he needed a minder. John and Kate had wanted to keep a trusted member of the gang at Gisborne's side at all times, but they had been less keen on that plan when Robin had suggested they divide the duty between them. In the end, he had made it clear that if Gisborne was one of them, he was entitled to the same freedoms the rest of them enjoyed. And if that meant a bit of privacy, so be it. He just wished that Gisborne didn't make such free use of the privilege.

"We've been through this before, Kate. Gisborne's aims are the same as ours, now. I do not believe that he will betray us," Robin said.

"And you aren't the least bit worried that he's alone in Sherwood right now doing who knows what or talking to who knows who?" Kate asked.

Guy's extended absences did worry Robin, but he couldn't say so. He had defended Guy to Kate too many times to admit any misgivings now.

"And the rest of you?" Robin asked, looking around at the others. "You all feel the same?"

"You know how I feel," John growled. "I'll not repeat myself."

Allan offered no opinion. He simply shrugged and said, "I could follow him, if you'd like. Wouldn't be hard."

"No!" Robin said. "There is already too little trust between us. If you were discovered… " Robin shook his head. "If one of us is to follow him, it will be me. The rest of you… leave him be."

Kate glared at him hard enough to let him know what she thought of his decision, and John's silence was heavy as a stone.

It was Much who spoke at last. "Well, if Gisborne's not here, that means more for us. The stew is ready." He wafted the delicious-smelling steam from the pot toward the rest of the camp, and sore tempers gave way to empty stomachs.

"Don't give away Guy's portion," Robin said quietly as Much ladled stew into his bowl. Much didn't argue, but he did look longingly at the bottom of the pot when everyone was served.

It was long past sunset when Gisborne returned. Robin studied him, searching for some hint of guilt or treachery as Much fussed at Guy about the stew being cold. Guy offered no explanation for his lateness, and Robin found nothing in his manner that might condemn him. He simply took his food from Much with a brief, perfunctory nod of thanks and went to the edge of the camp to eat alone. Robin thought about joining him, asking him where he'd been, but he thought better of it. Guilty or innocent, Gisborne had to know he wasn't trusted. There was no need to remind him of it just yet.

*****

It was early in the afternoon two days later when Robin caught sight of Gisborne striking off in the opposite direction of camp. He was alone, and all the black he wore made him easy to pick out amongst the brown and gold and green of the forest. They were both miles from camp already, and at first Robin wondered if Gisborne had gotten lost. There was nothing at all in the direction Guy was heading, as far as Robin could tell, and getting lost would certainly have explained his long absences and his reluctance to talk about where he had been. But Gisborne did not seem like a man who had lost his way. He seemed to know exactly where he was going, and he moved through the wood with purpose.

Robin followed at a distance. Guy had learned something of woodcraft in the weeks he had been in Sherwood, and he walked more quietly than he once had, but Robin still had no trouble keeping a steady pace behind him. They approached a road that would have led them to Nottingham, and for a moment, Robin tensed, planning what he would do if Guy turned aside and made for the city. But Gisborne did not even turn his head as he crossed.

Half a mile on the other side of the Nottingham road, the trees opened up onto a still pond with mossy banks and a great, old tree whose branches spread out over the water. Gisborne's pace slowed, and Robin hung back even further.

On the far side of the tree was a fresh grave. The dirt had recently been turned over, and there were no vines or signs of weathering on the carefully stacked stones that covered it. An abundance of wildflowers grew in the moist soil at the water's edge, and Robin watched as Guy snapped a few of the stems and gathered them together in one hand. Then, he knelt by the grave, brushed away several older, dried bunches that already rested on the stones, and laid the fresh flowers in their place.

As Guy was kneeling there, he whispered something that was lost to the wind, but Robin didn't need to hear the words. He knew loss and regret when he saw them, and he had his answer. Today, at least, Gisborne was not betraying them, and Robin wanted nothing more than to slip away quietly. He had no desire to watch Guy mourn whoever lay in the new grave.

Robin started to move away, and Guy rose to his feet abruptly, his right hand loosening his sword in its sheath. Robin cursed under his breath. Gisborne's hearing had improved. Thinking it better to show himself than to flee and run the risk that Guy's skill with the bow had improved as well, Robin stepped forward.

"How long have you been here?" Guy demanded. His hand didn't move from the hilt of his sword.

"Long enough," Robin said, coming closer. "Are we fighting again today?" He nodded at Gisborne's sword, and Guy slowly let go and showed Robin his open palm.

"You followed me," Guy said, coming to stand between Robin and the grave.

"You gave me reason to wonder where you went. You have no friends in the shire that I know of, and yet you are gone for hours at a time, alone. I would have been a fool not to be suspicious."

"Are you satisfied now?" Guy asked.

"I am," Robin said. "And curious, as well. Whoever dug this grave took great time and care with it, saw it done right. I'm wondering who might have done it, and why you would walk for miles to see it cared for. Whose grave could you possibly care so much about?"

Gisborne looked down at the piled stones. "Her name was Meg Bennett. You must have seen her once. She's the girl my sister planned to execute alongside me."

"I remember," Robin said. "And I remember that you spoke for her. I thought… since you escaped…"

"That she had as well?" Guy finished for him. He shook his head. "No. Your arrow may have stopped the headsman, but there were still too many guards, and I was alone and unarmed. And she… she took a thrust to the side that was meant for me. After that, we ran, and we made it out the gates, but her wound was too deep, and I had no place to take her, and so she died. Here."

Robin sighed. It had been so much easier, so much cleaner when he could hate Gisborne without reservation. But Robin knew what loss could do to a man if he tried to carry it alone, and the grief in Guy's voice was still raw and new.

"I'm sorry," Robin said.

"So am I," Guy replied. There was something in the way he said it that spoke of a loss deeper than it should have been considering he'd barely known the girl.

"Did you love her?" Robin asked.

Guy turned his face away, unable to meet Robin's eyes. "In time, I might have. I liked her. She was kind, and she was brave. She tried to help me escape after Isabella freed her. She got as far as stealing the keys from the guards even though… she had no reason…" He took a long, steadying breath. "There was no reason she should have helped me. She should have stayed away."

"Perhaps she liked you in return," Robin said.

"Things would have gone better for her if she hadn't. I couldn't protect her, and I knew it. I didn't ask her to try and save me, she just… did it. Without ever counting the cost to herself."

"Because she thought it was the right thing to do," Robin said.

"Yes," Guy said sharply. The unspoken comparison that neither of them dared make hung between them for a moment, and then was gone.

"I wish I could have met her," Robin said. "It sounds like she would have done well with us… outspoken, unhappy with our current Sheriff, and good with lifting keys to the dungeon."

To Robin's surprise, Gisborne actually smiled. "I think she would have liked that," he said.

Robin stepped around Guy and rested against the great tree's trunk. The sun was starting to fall from its midday height, and the shadows of the trees on the water were dark and cool. "This is a pretty spot. You do her honor, tending her grave like this."

"I've never had a grave to visit before," Guy said.

Robin thought of the churchyard in Locksley where generations of his family were buried. His mother and his grandparents were there, and the rest of the churchyard was peopled with great aunts and uncles, distant relations, and friends. Each cross had a name, a face, a set of stories. What would it have been like never to have known where any of them rested? It was unthinkable. One of his earliest memories was visiting his mother's grave with his father, laying the first flowers of spring at the cross that bore her name. And there was another grave, a more recent one, that Robin remembered and Guy could not. Robin would likely never see it again, but he could still feel the shovel in his hands as he dug down into the white, hot sand, and if he closed his eyes, he could see the spot where Marian lay so clearly that it was hard to remember he wasn't standing in front of it.

There was pain in those memories, yes, but there was peace in knowing where his loved ones were, in seeing them put in the ground. Not a great deal of peace, but some. He could see how the lack of it would eat at a man's soul.

"When you're done here," Robin said, "I'd like you to come with me. I want to show you something."

Guy bent to rest his hand lightly on the mound of stones that marked Meg's grave, straightened, and said, "I'm ready. Lead the way."

It was another long trek to the place Robin had in mind, but Guy didn't ask questions. In fact, he didn't say much of anything, but his silence was more thoughtful than angry, and Robin didn't push him to speak.

When they began to get close, Robin heard Guy's footsteps come to a stop behind him.

"You know where we are?" Robin asked, turning to look at him.

Guy stood on the old path looking warily ahead. "Of course I do. These were my father's lands. My lands. The manor house was less than half a mile ahead. But there's nothing left. The village is gone, and the fields are fallow or gone back to forest. I rode out here when I first came to Locksley with the Sheriff, and I never saw any reason to return."

"You're going to have to trust me. Come on," Robin said.

Guy didn't look happy, but at least he followed.

Truth be told, Robin hadn't been to the Gisborne lands in years either. After the manor burned, the village had dwindled down to a few households within five years, and then even those remaining families had moved to other villages. Most had gone to Locksley, not wanting to venture too far from their old neighbors.

The path up to the foundation of the manor was overgrown, but Robin wasn't going to the manor. He struck off into the forest, beckoning Guy to follow. The spot he was looking for was easy to recognize. The clearing was still there, and though the years had not been kind to the stone building that stood at the north end, it was still standing. Robin crossed the clearing and looked for the place he remembered. The wooden cross had long since rotted away, but the carefully placed stones were still visible, even under their covering of wild berry vines.

"What is this?" Guy asked. "Why bring me here?"

"This is where we buried your parents."

Guy took a step back.

"That's not possible." He shook his head angrily. "What is this? Some cruel joke? The bailiff… he told me there was nothing to bury."

"He lied," Robin said, leaning on his bow. "After Longthorn left, the priest had them search the house more closely, and they found your parents. No one would let me see them, though. They brought them out covered by a white cloth… I don't remember much other than that, but I do remember the funeral. The priest… he said your mother loved this place."

Guy glanced over at the old stone building. "Our family chapel. She had it built back in the forest because praying here made her feel closer to God." Guy went down on both knees in front of the grave and placed his hands reverently on the stones. "They've been here all this time," he murmured. "I didn't know."

"I would have told you before, but I hadn't thought of it in years," Robin said.

"You've told me now," Guy said. His voice was rough, and he didn't turn to look at Robin when he spoke.

"I'll leave you, if you'd like," Robin said. "Can you find your way back from here?"

"I can," Guy said, obviously annoyed at the suggestion that he might get lost.

"Good," Robin said, making no effort to hide his amusement. "That's good. I'll see you back at the camp, then."

He turned to go, but before he got far, Guy called after him.

"Robin… Thank you."

The words were not said grudgingly, and Robin didn't know what to do with Guy's gratitude.

"You're welcome," Robin said at last.

He looked back one last time before he left the clearing to see Guy clearing away the years of growth from his parents' grave. Then, instead of heading back to camp, Robin turned down the path that would lead him to Locksley. He hadn't been to see his own dead in the churchyard for far too long.