Title: Broken

Rating: PG

Archive: Sure

Disclaimer: I own nuthin' ... I just play. I get no money.

Description: Time stands still as Robin's friends rush to save him from his destined fate.

Notes:

1. This is an AU story ... I didn't like how 'The Greatest Enemy' ended so I continued it. I love angst. It will become apparent as the chapters continue….

2. I have very little idea where I'm going with this story but the Muse is bugging me and won't shut up, so here it comes.

Prologue

The outlaws slowly gathered around Marion, staring in disbelief at the metallic representation she held in her hands. She clutched Albion tightly, fingers whitening, unwilling to believe that her husband was truly dead. As much as her mind refused to believe the obvious fact that her husband was dead, she still clung to some miraculous hope that she was wrong. She met each questioning gaze with the strength befitting the wife of Robin of Sherwood.

“No.” Tuck whispered, eyes searching Marion’s pale features, staring at the dried tears marring paths down dirty cheeks.

She could only nod, her normally bright, cheerful eyes darkened red by her tears.

Will stared at Much, grasping his shoulders, shaking the young man in disbelief. “No, it can’t be. He just rescued us!” Rage tore through Will, unable to comprehend what the sight standing before him revealed.

Nasir stared, dark eyes narrowed to tiny slits, unable to reconcile the information before his eyes with that of the man, Robin, he thought, who had just rescued them. Hadn't he? The quiet Saracen stepped beside Marion and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. He had to see. He needed proof. Slowly, he asked, his accent thick, “Where?”

She opened her lips to answer, but no words came forth from her efforts. She simply nodded in the direction of the rocks she had left her husband alone to defend.

Nasir nodded and rushed out of the forest before anyone could stop him.

“Nasir?” John called, the sudden movement startling most of them out of their delirium, “where are you going?”

Receiving no answer, John followed, Will close on his heals.

“The soldiers,” Marion whispered, watching them go, “they’ll be walking into a trap.” She couldn't bear the death of any of her friends today. Robin's was enough to crush her. She was numb already.

“Then they’ll need our help, little flower,” Tuck guided her toward the direction the others had taken. Much followed slowly, still dumbstruck with despair.

----------------------------

Robin lowered his head, ready for the scorching pain he was about to feel as the metal arrows pierced his skin. He couldn’t even imagine what it would feel like, had never fathomed that his life would end this way: Trapped like a caged animal with no way to fight back – his arrows were gone and he’d given Albion to Marion.

The soldiers were approaching slowly, cautiously. Even with their poor targeting skills, they were close enough to him now not to even need to aim.

Even though he knew he would die defending those he loved, Robin had never imagined what it would feel like as he died. He prayed to Herne that it would be quick, that he would not give the Sheriff one last satisfying victory.

The wooden longbow clattered to the rocks at his feet, the sound echoing in his ears along with the insistent thudding of his heart.

His mind turned to his sweet wife. He wanted the image of her burned into his mind for eternity. Those large, green eyes widening in shock when she realized the implications of his last words to her. He would never again see her radiant smile, the way the sun glinted off the thick, red curls of her hair. At least he was granted the ability to say goodbye.

Robin looked toward the advancing soldiers, chin set, determined to meet them with his head held high, proud of what he had become and the freedom for which he had fought.

Robin noted with a grunt that the Sheriff held back, untrusting, unwilling to fall into an expected trap. Robin regretted not having the chance to plan such a final attack. No, he would die alone and with luck, quickly. The Sheriff would not be close enough to see the first arrow strike its target.

“Shoot!”

Robin heard the cocking of the metal crossbows, moments before he heard a delicate voice screaming, “Noooooooo!”

Chapter 1

Robin's head snapped over his shoulder eyes widening at the sight of the outlaws running toward him, bows drawn, and arrows ready. The noise was enough to distract a few of the advancing soldiers, and their metal arrows sailed wide, missing the outlaw by mere inches.

In the back of his mind, Robin heard the clang of the arrows leaving their metal encasement. To his surprise, several went wide of his position, their owners having been struck in the back with the arrow shot from behind. Several of the metal arrows struck the young wolfshead, throwing his lithe form heavily to the rocks. Arrows deeply embedded into one side of his thigh, shoulder and side, Robin groaned, casting a quick look in the direction of the defending arrows as they flew straight and sure into any further soldier who neared his position.

Robin groaned in pain, kneeling over a large boulder, struggling to keep from falling over. He could see his friends running towards him, seemingly unaware of the soldiers creeping up on his position from the front of the rock face. He tried to cry out a warning, wave them away with what remaining strength he could find, but they ignored his pleas.

Will was the first to reach the injured leader, and took a quick stance over his friend. He began launching arrows toward the advancing soldiers before coming to a complete stop next to his fallen friend. John and Tuck joined him and continued the defense of their precarious position, while Marion and Much knelt beside Robin.

"Robin," Marion sobbed, fat tears dropping from pale cheeks into her husband's dark hair. She slid a hand beneath his neck and slowly raised his head, wincing when he groaned in pain. His eyes were clouded. He was barely conscious.

"Why did you come back?" Robin's eyes narrowed. "I…. Wanted.. you to be... Safe." He whispered, his words punctuated with breath-stealing coughs. Blood trickled from one corner of his lips and he made no motion to wipe it away. He hadn’t the strength.

"I'm not leaving you," Marion ignored his question, instead favoring her husband with a loving, longing look. She was afraid to look at the arrows piercing his body, instead content to keep her eyes focused on his handsome features. The normally bright, mischievous eyes were now clouded with pain.

"Robin," Much's voice was filled with disbelief, shaking, his eyes glued to the blood seeping into his brother's clothing. "No, Robin."

"Much," The young leader breathed, reaching a trembling hand toward the boy's face. "Go, please. It is not your destiny to die here on this rock with me."

"No," Much shook his head, tears dripping down his rosy cheeks.

"The soldiers are advancing," Will yelled, launching another arrow toward an unprotected soldier, grinning maliciously when the soldier fell with a cry, clutching his chest.

"And we are running out of arrows!" John added, removing the last stalk from its quiver.

"We need to get out of here!" Marion cut in, eyes shifting from John to Robin.

"Marion," Robin's voice was weak, low. "I can't run. You need to go without me."

"No!" Marion shook her head, denying the inevitable. "John can carry you."

Loosing his last arrow, John turned at the sound of his name and knelt next to his friend. "Yes, I can. And I will."

Amidst Robin's whimpers of protest, John moved to Robin's uninjured side and lifted the young man easily into his arms.

"We've got to go!" Will cried, "That was my last arrow!"

The outlaws began running down the backside of the rock face, watching in awe as arrows sailed from the forest edge and into the chests of the pursuing soldiers.

"Who is that man!" Will voiced, watching as arrow after arrow struck their mark.

"Into the trees," the mysterious man ordered when the outlaws reached him. "You will be able to hide there. The Sheriff wouldn't dare follow you now."

The man continued to draw quill after quill and launch them toward the advancing soldiers, until they stopped and took cover behind the rocks.

The outlaws wove through the trees away from the stranger who defended them, making their escape easy.

Robin's head bobbed against John's chest as the young man drifted in and out of consciousness. He winced with each step, John's great bulk unable to shelter him from the tremors that shot through his body with even the most minute movement.

"Please," Robin begged, his breathing shallow, his eyes pleading. "Don't give her false hope."

"We all have hope, Robin. We are taking you to Herne." John kept his eyes straight ahead. It was enough to hear the pained voice. The great giant of the woods would not have been able to look at his friend’s painful expression.

"He has chosen….another," Robin wheezed and John knew he meant the hooded man who had rescued them.

"Not while you still live," John gritted out, covering Robin's head as he moved quickly through the trees.

"I wasn't meant to live….John." Robin whispered before once again loosing consciousness.

Fat tears dripped down the big man's cheeks, disappearing into the bushy beard.

John knew Robin was right but would die before he admitted it to anyone.

-----------------------------------------

They reached the river as night fell over the forest. Robin was cold, shivering as John stepped into the boat. Marion had removed a leather jerkin and placed it over Robin but it did little to help the chill seeping into his bones. He was sick, he was dying, and there was nothing any of them could do to help him.

Except Herne.

But would he be willing? Was Robin right when he claimed that Herne had found another? Chosen another to be his son and to do his bidding?

The outlaws settled into the boat for the short journey to the other side of the river, to the cave in which Herne the Hunter lived.

"Herne?" Marion was the first to leap off the boat before it was securely anchored. "Please, we need you."

"What is it, my child?" Herne appeared before them, calm and quiet in the midst of such solemn faces.

"Please help Robin," Marion rested her hand on her husbands head, fingering the hair damp with sweat and fever. "He's been injured."

Herne lowered his head and nodded. "Yes, I know."

Marion pressed on, missing the subtle message. "Then you can help him?"

"No, my child. I cannot."

Chapter 2

Emerald eyes blazed, burning the forest god with their intensity. "What do you mean, you cannot? You healed me when I was dead in my husband’s arms. Why can you not do the same for him!"

"His power healed you." Herne explained. "I charged him with the powers of light and darkness. He called upon them to bring you back to him."

"You gave him those powers!" Will cried, the tightly guarded temper snapping like a twig in the face of Herne’s refusal to help Robin. "You can use them to help him!"

Herne looked around at the gathered outlaws before settling on his new chosen one; Robert of Huntington. “He is beyond my power now.”

“No!” Marion cried, startling Robin from his semi-conscious slumber in John’s arms.

“Please,” Robin’s parched lips struggled to find words that would soothe his tortured love.

“Set him down, John.” Marion brushed a trembling hand across her husband’s forehead, feeling the chill of fever burying itself deep within Robin’s body with every passing minute.

Glaring at the Horned God of the Forest, Marion brushed passed him, eyes searching the healing elixirs arranged upon a far table. “Tuck, help me.”

Tuck worked quickly, concocting a foul smelling mixture from many of the herbs and dried leaves he found scattered about various shelves. Marion worked on a paste, a salve that would heal Robin’s punctured skin and remove infection from his bones.

Herne and Robert watched in silence, Robert in awe of the dedication the outlaws showed to their injured leader, Herne in displeasure that Robin was being made to suffer so long.

“We have to pull them out, Robin.” Marion fell to her knees and cradled his head in her lap, slim, pale fingers brushing sweat-soaked hair from his eyes.

“No.” Robin breathed, fighting to keep conscious.

“Yes.” Marion stated firmly, ignoring the beautiful, darkened eyes that pleaded with her to stop, to let him die. John held down the young man’s shoulders as Tuck pulled the piece of metal from their leader’s shoulder.

Robin cried out in pain, weakened from his ordeal and loss of blood, his voice echoing off the stone walls and sending shivers of remorse through each and every man. The cave was silent except for Robin’s panting, as he struggled for each life-giving breath.

Without words, Tuck moved to the arrow still embedded in Robin’s thigh. With John’s firm hands pinning Robin’s hips to the ground, Tuck pulled the piece of metal from the torn flesh.

Robin’s hiss of pain was barely heard, consciousness and blood fading with each passing second.

Marion applied the salve to the open wounds, packing it tightly so that no more blood could escape. Tuck shredded part of his robe and tied the strips tightly around Robin’s shoulder and thigh.

By the time Tuck reached the wound in Robin’s side, the young wolfshead had lapsed into unconsciousness.

“The arrow has broken many bones,” Tuck sighed sadly, reaching for the final arrow. “But the blood is not coming from his heart, so he may still have a chance.”

“Do not remove it,” Herne warned.

“Why?” Marion asked. Wondering if this was a ploy to let her husband die or if there was an underlying reason for Herne’s demand.

“By removing the arrow, you will break more bones and send one through his heart.” The horned god whispered softly.

“He’s lying!” Will hissed, stepping beside Tuck. “Do it. Pull it out before he dies from infection.”

“Leave it in,” Marion whispered, eyes never leaving her husband’s face. She brushed cool fingers and a cold compress of leaves and herbs to her Robin’s forehead.

When Marion’s eyes shifted to Herne, they were filled with despair, sadness and tiny emerald daggers. Words were not necessary to get her point across to the horned God. If he was lying, if leaving the arrow in place caused Robin to die faster than the alternative, she would ensure his slow and painful demise. This fact was clear to every man standing.

“Then we wait.” Tuck breathed, settling into a heap on the ground beside Marion.

“You wait for him to die slowly rather than the way it was meant to be,” Herne sighed before turning to Robert of Huntington, the man he had chosen to replace Robin of Loxley as his son.

TBC