Title: Brother Hood
Pairing: Gen
Summary: The story of three brothers who survived… only to be annoyingly stuck with each other. Had fate been more kind, or perhaps more cruel, they would have gotten just this.
Alternate series ending wherein certain deaths are prevented but still carry lasting effects.
Rating: K+

"Stop! Right now, stop what you're doing!"

Guy's orders went unheeded. He was, for all purposes, a muted ghost who could do little more than yell pointlessly at the people that walked back and forth with objects from the spare room that had, until recently, housed his guards on occasion. He did manage to hit one of the servants in the head with his pillow though and that helped ease his annoyance. "Oi! you put those papers back right now! Those are my things." He knew they owed him no more allegiance, but their blatant disregard for him and everything he was saying meant only one man could be behind their actions. "Robin!" he shouted.

It was mere seconds until the man descended the stairs, his cheeky, insufferable grin steadfastly in place. "Yes, Gisborne?" he asked innocently, as though he could not see the table being carried out right beside him.

"I demand to know the meaning of this," Guy commanded, pointing at the display since Robin seemed to have no intention of looking otherwise.

"Oh," he said, glancing briefly and then turning back. "Well to be perfectly honest, I'm getting tired of seeing your ugly face every time I come down the stairs." Guy ignored the jibe. "Thought we'd get you a proper bedroom. Given your situation though—"

"What? You mean because I'm a cripple," Guy interrupted with a sneer.

"I felt it'd be easier to just… clear a room out downstairs, yeah?" Robin seemed proud of himself and the effort he was putting forth to make Guy's life in the manor more relaxing and less on display. Guy, however, did not seem to care one way or the other.

"So what?" he asked with a malicious smirk. "You'll shut me off to myself? So you won't have to look at me anymore."

"No, I'm not…" Robin turned away for a second and pulled at his hair, releasing an irritated growl. "I'm not trying to get rid of you. But if you don't want your own room with a nice soft bed, I'll stop the whole thing right now."

"Do what you must," Guy told him, lying back down. "But I want my things to remain in the room."

Robin whistled and spoke to the workers. "You heard him lads. Leave the papers, desk, what have you. The rest is yours to do with what you want."

Guy didn't like the idea of servants deciding what was important enough to stay or not, especially when they got to keep any excess. He said nothing though, not wanting to appear too interested in Robin's 'favor' for him.

That night after dinner, Archer helped carry him to his new room nestled at the base of the stairs. It housed his desk and clothes and a bed, but other than that, it was fairly bare. He didn't need much though, not anymore, not with the way he was living his days.

Archer put him down, and after two months on a cot, the feather mattress felt wonderful on his back. He could not keep in the contented sigh that escaped him.

Archer laughed humorously, but at what joke, Guy could only speculate. "What? What's so funny?"

"You, I guess," he said. "You're supposed to be the oldest, but you act like a big baby."

"Explain yourself," Guy growled.

"I don't suppose you'll thank Robin for your new room," Archer questioned of him.

"Why should I?" he said. "I didn't ask for him to do it."

"And that's why it's funny," Archer told him. He slapped the man on the shoulder and left, letting him get some sleep.

—

Guy sat at his desk reading. The material was nothing of real interest. Robin had been doing estimations for the taxes of Locksley. Guy felt it his duty to criticize— though in his mind, it was courteously phrased 'alert'— the man to his vast under-taxation of the people. If the do-gooder did as he wanted, they would go under before summer.

It had been a month in his room, and he was still averse to admit the advantage and practicality it awarded him. His desk was so near the bed that he could put himself into its chair. Getting back however (or anywhere else in the house, for that matter), was an entirely different issue. Those he still required assistance for, though he was loath to ask. He spent many days alone in his room, not only because he was his own best form of company, but because asking for someone to carry him out was not worth the reward. And he was entirely too pleased with himself in letting Robin continue to suffer over the fact that his doing something nice for him had only driven him further away from the rest of the house.

He was in the middle of calculations when Archer burst into his room unannounced. "Tuck's back," he informed. "Just thought you'd like to know."

They ate supper with company that night. Robin sat at the head of the table, as always, and Tuck sat across from him at the other end. There was a stranger who sat beside Archer and to Tuck's left. The monk introduced him as a priest, one to take over the hallowed duties of the church, seeing as how Lockley's last one had run off. Robin was happy to have him and stated that he had personally been helping in the final steps of restoring their church. It was even more magnificent than the previous one and ready for service. All it lacked was a leader.

When they had gotten the niceties out of the way, Robin begged for a report from the outside world. "It's as good as it is bad," Tuck told them. "With news of King Richard's captivity all over England, Prince John can either pay the ransom or lose face."

"He'll lose more than that if the king makes it home," Robin stated.

"And that's why I've been hearing whispers that he plans to spend much of the money he's raised as a bribe to continue the king's imprisonment. He'll not succeed though," he added. "Queen Eleanor herself is saving funds and ensuring that Prince John's go to the rightful place."

"I bet this 'collection of funds' bleeds the country dry in the meantime, eh?" Robin was angered and aggrieved over the matter but kept his emotions level. "But why is Nottingham excluded from this new taxation? What is he plotting?"

"I think our show at the castle sent the prince cowering," Tuck laughed. "You destroyed hundreds of his men, a decent amount of our domestic troops. He's declared the whole area a no-man's land ruled by outlaws. If he plots against us, it is a well kept secret."

"I don't suppose it'd be too much to hope that he simply has more important things on his plate, would it?" Archer asked with a grin, looking back and forth between Robin and Tuck.

"I'll never deny a man his hope," the monk said, but he himself didn't appear too full of the notion. "With any luck, the king's release will happen."

"Maybe it already has and we just haven't heard of it," Archer spoke cheerfully.

"I'll drink to that," Robin sang, holding up his goblet. The other men raised theirs in turn, all except for Guy.

"What?" he asked irritably, not liking the expectant looks directed at him. "Am I to be excited for the return of a man who abandoned his people in favor of senseless bloodshed and a war that was none of our business?"

"Honestly, Gisborne," Robin said with a sigh, taking a drink, "I'd be disappointed if you changed now."

"It was that man's lust for glory that allowed people like the Sheriff to take over."

"Oh, and you as well, hmm?" Robin prompted, setting down his cup and looking heatedly at Guy.

"Now, now, children," Archer spoke, trying to quell the arguing before it began. He found time with his brothers fairly tolerable, so long as there was no fighting. The conflicts only proved to make his life more difficult. "Let's agree to disagree, yeah?" They both grumbled their general consent to let the matter drop.

"Tuck," Robin said after awhile, when the food was mostly gone, "you and your friend here are more than welcome to stay while you set the church right."

"Thank you for the offer, my friend," he responded, "but if it is truly completed, I think we would prefer to stay there and work on the… finishing touches."

"Suit yourself. I look forward to the sermons."

—

When it was only Robin, Archer, and Guy, their dinner conversations were kept light, regarding trivial matters such as where to attain more food in the last month of winter. Anything further disturbed the balance. By that time, Archer was more than aware of the fact that Robin and Guy had never really been on the best of terms, as he may have been led to believe upon their first meeting. The arguments he saw, at first thought to be petty disagreements, were later revealed as cracks in a thin veil of civility that covered a longsuffering hatred. Camaraderie was a new and awkward thing for them, a child learning to walk. They had not much to say to one another because boundaries were still weak, still sensitive.

In the week since Tuck had shown up, however, Robin had done enough talking for the three of them. Everyday he grew more and more assured that King Richard would return home soon. "Locksley is already mine again in all but official channels," he spoke. "When the king returns, I'm certain he will fully reinstate my title and claim." The other two, Guy especially, ate their food quietly, letting him carry on. "When that day comes, there will be nothing to stop me from filing papers to give you your own land, Archer."

"Land?" he asked, looking skeptical. "For me? Why?"

"Well, they would have been yours anyway," Robin told him, ruffling his brother's hair playfully, "had fate been a bit kinder. I'm sure my father— our father— would have given you one of the nicest plots around."

"I'll think about it," Archer replied, seeing the value in the land as much as the anchor it created.

"You too, Gisborne," Robin said around a bite of meat, gesturing with his fork. "Play your cards right, and I'll even declare the lands of Gisborne to be in your name again."

Guy set down his knife and laughed cruelly. There was a dark shadow around his eyes and a cold sneer hanging on his lips. "What?" he asked callously. "Tired of me already, of having to look after me?"

"No," Robin sighed, gazing tiredly at the ceiling.

"How happy you must be," Guy continued. "Soon I will be the trouble of the serfs, and you two," he pointed at them, "will finally be rid of me."

"That's not what I meant at all," Robin objected, hating how Guy always had a way of twisting and perverting his intentions.

"Oh, you should know I don't blame you," the man said with a fake kindness. "I would want rid of me as well."

"Well, there's the big difference between us, Gisborne," Robin shouted back bitterly. "I don't abandon people."

"Maybe you should have!" Guy yelled. He raked his arm angrily across the table, knocking plate and cup and food into the floor. "You should have left me to die." His words were wretched and self-pitying, but they carried a thunderous fury behind them that had been hiding for three-and-a-half months. He had been waiting for this. "What purpose have I now that my revenge has been met, that my legs betray me? What sort of life am I to lead? You," he bellowed, "should have left me in that godforsaken tomb."

Robin slammed his hand on the table. The wood resonated with a thick, hollow sound and probably did his palm a fair amount of damage, but he was in no mood to notice. He stood and ordered Archer to do the same. "Get his legs," he said. Both men stared at him oddly until he repeated the command, louder.

He pulled Guy's chair away from the table with such might that the man almost fell out. Then he wrapped his arms beneath his shoulders and hauled him up as best he could, considering how big he was. Watching him struggle, Archer finally jumped in to help, still confused as he grabbed Guy's legs.

"Let go of me!" the man barked. "Get off me!" Guy swung at Robin, and the fist connected with his eye. Given the angle, there wasn't much force behind it, but he did almost drop him.

Robin yelled for a servant to open the door, and they carried him outside, Guy fighting them the whole way. Robin led them down the path and across the bridge, to the edge of the deepest part of the pond with its high bank.

"Robin," asked a nervous Archer, "what are we doing?"

"Throw him in," Robin commanded. He ignored Guy's suddenly panicked pleas.

"That water has to be freezing," Archer objected. Tough love was one thing, but tossing a man who couldn't use his legs into icy water was as good as murder.

"Well then he'll have more incentive to make it to shore, won't he?" Robin snapped. His tone held no room for argument. His ears seemed closed to reason. His eyes were narrowed with a gaze that ate through dissention. Archer didn't think he had the courage to fight him on the matter. "Throw him!"

Knowing he would regret the action, knowing that he already did, Archer swung Guy between them and together they hurled him out into the water. He sank like a stone but soon fought his way to the top, gasping for breath. It took everything in him to stay afloat, and even that was a battle he seemed to be losing.

"Robin!" Guy cried. "Robin, please!"

"The bank's too steep for you to get up this way," was all Robin would say. "You'll have to swim to the other side."

"I can't!" he yelled back, sputtering water. "Archer! Brother, please!"

Archer ran to the edge, intent to jump in, but Robin caught and held him back, saying that if he tried again, he would knock him down. "You have two choices," he shouted to Guy. "You can accept defeat like a coward and sink, or you can acknowledge right here and now that you still have two good arms left, that you're not useless, and swim to safety. It's the only way you're getting out."

Guy's head dipped under and he shook his arms wildly to get back up. "Please!" he begged.

Robin refused to move.

Guy went down again, longer that time. So long that even Robin began to grow worried. There was no visible trace him: no arms, no head, no bubbles. He was a mere second from letting Archer go in after him when Guy's head popped up, closer to the opposing bank. Slowly he began to paddle to it. Robin released a shaky laugh and slapped Archer on the back elatedly. They both ran across the bridge, ready to receive Guy.

When he did at last reach the shore, Robin and Archer stepped in and hauled him out, getting themselves soaked in the process. They all three laid there on the dead grass as Guy panted heavily in the middle.

He was shivering, and his teeth chattered when he turned to Robin and uttered, "I-I hate you s-so much, Locksley."

The harsh words could not touch Robin in that moment. He leaned down and placed a joyful kiss in the man's cold dripping hair. "Yes, but at least you're one step closer to loving yourself again." He fell back and released a whooping cry into the night sky.

"Come on," Archer said as he stood. "We're all soaking wet, you worst of all." He pointed to Guy. "I think a fire and a hot bath are in order."

"There's only two tubs," Robin remarked.

"Robin goes last," Guy was quick to say.

—

A couple of days later, Guy still refused to forgive Robin, but he was allowing the man to be in the same room as him again. It was a rainy day, and the fact that it did not fall as snow told them that they would be in for an early spring.

Guy looked out the window at the falling drops. He seemed enamored by them, but a closer look revealed an unfocused gaze. "You should learn French," he spoke passively, continuing to look unseeingly out the window.

"Uh," Archer drawled, looking between him and Robin. "Me?" Guy nodded. "Why would I want to go learning French?" he asked with a snort.

"To honor our mother's heritage," he answered plainly, at last turning to look upon his brother.

"Got a better reason?"

Guy paused, his mind whirling as he honestly struggled to think of a reason good enough to interest the other. "It's a… big appeal to women," he tried.

"Any foreign language is an appeal to women," Robin butted in. Guy glared at him.

"Don't listen to Robin," Guy told him with a derisive scoff. "He'd have you learning the Saracen tongue."

"And who's going to teach me this French?" Archer asked with a chuckle, toying with the idea. "You?"

Guy blinked then lowered his gaze. "That was… the idea."

"Oh," was all Archer could bring himself to say. He hadn't been expecting that. The very thought of Guy doing something productive was an entirely new notion. He almost wanted to agree, if only to see the man put forth effort into something. The thought brought a genuine smile to his face. "Yeah," he said, "I'll think about it."

"Good," Guy replied. His head bobbed repeatedly in a nod, and his mind seemed hard at work. Archer may as well have already accepted his offer for the look of planning on the man's face. "Good," he said again, looking back out the window.

—

In the end, Archer stood no chance of escaping French lessons. Guy seemed optimistic to have a cause, even a small one. Archer would not deny him it.

They were seated at the dining table during one such session when Robin marched swiftly down the stairs. "Come on," he said, lightly smacking Archer on the back of the head, "let's go." Archer dropped his pen and grabbed his sword from further down the table. "No, you won't be needing that," Robin told him.

"Where are we going?" he asked suspiciously.

"To church, of course," Robin answered, speaking as though it were truly the most obvious thing in all of creation. "Come on, Gisborne. You're coming too."

Guy's face scrunched up in an expression of repulsion. "I've no interest in going," he said. "I haven't been to church since I was a boy."

"Neither have I," said Archer, relaxing back into his chair. "Can't say I miss it."

Robin baulked, mouth agape in shock at the two of them. "Even more reason why you both should attend. Now come on, brother, stand up."

Archer obeyed, slowly and with a noticeable display of brooding. Robin unbuckled his outer belt and pushed the rakish vest from his shoulders. Then he straightened out his clothes to make him slightly more presentable. "Why is this so important?" Archer groaned as Robin ran fingers through his messy hair.

"Tuck's giving us a sermon before he leaves again," Robin stated.

"Even more reason why I don't want to go," Guy spoke up. "That man speaks the word of Robin Hood, not God."

"Well, today," Robin said, mildly content with Archer's appearance, "it is God. I'll not have my name glorified in church. Too afraid of blasphemous reprisals." Archer laughed, but Guy only rolled his eyes.

"Have fun then," he said.

Robin elbowed Archer in the side. He moaned in reply, guessing the other's intent. They approached either side of Guy's chair and, together, picked it up with him still in it.

"What are you doing?" he roared. "Put me down!" Naturally, they did no such thing, carrying him through the house and outside. They were almost to the bridge when Guy conceded. "Fine!" he said. "I'll go." His assent was welcomed but unnecessary as they all knew at that point that he was going no matter what he said. "Just let me out of the chair." They sat him down, and Archer grabbed him around the middle while Robin threw the chair back in the direction of the house. Then they both took one of Guy's arms around their shoulders and walked the rest of the way.

There was already a throng of people gathered around the doors of the church, and what good tidings were on their faces at seeing Robin, soured when they noticed Guy beside him. The man ducked his head down to avoid their glares.

Robin sat proudly in the front pew. Guy fell between him and Archer. People filed in after them, and the room buzzed with one sustained, droning murmur. Little could be picked out of the many hushed conversations, but the three of them would have been lying if they said they heard not the occasional wicked word intended for Guy.

When he could bear it no longer, Robin clapped his hands together and approached the pulpit, determined to have his say before Tuck got good and ready to begin. "People of Locksley," he called. Many eyes turned to him, but many more still were focused unwaveringly upon Guy. "I'm sure you have noticed that Sir Guy of Gisborne sits at the front here beside me. This is no oversight, nor is it a mistake. This man," he gestured at him almost proudly, "is my friend. He risked his life to save mine, and doing so cost him the use of his legs. He has my trust, my respect, and my love. Now, I do not ask you to be kind, as I know the histories many of you have with him, but I will ask you to be civil, especially here, especially in the house of God."

"Well said, my friend," Tuck spoke in greeting as he walked up the aisle. He patted Robin on the shoulder, and the man retook his seat. "And is love not a better message than hate? Is forgiveness not the harder, but more rewarding, path?" He carried on like that, slowly beginning a sermon that could have been carefully planned or, just as easily, spontaneous and natural. The words were passionate, engrossing. The people soon gave up any interest in Guy.

For his part, Guy was not lost in the words. He studied them carefully, dissected their meaning and their message. It was all very different from the church he had attended as a boy. Their priest was an exceptionally kind man, until he stood before his flock. Then he was every bit the fire and brimstone type. He was more intent on spreading the terror of bad deeds punished than the promise of redemption. Therefore, as a result, Guy had never really liked church. Tuck's words, however, turned the board, gave him a different perspective. They led him— perhaps falsely, he thought— to believe that he could repent for his own sins and be forgiven, that he didn't need the pure soul of another to wash away his crimes, to cover up his evil.

When the sermon had ended and the people fled to fill the second half of their Sunday with merry-making, Guy sat still, staring ahead, waiting for them all to leave.

"Come on then," Archer said, holding out his hand and waiting for Guy to take it so that he and Robin could carry him back.

"No, I…" Guy cleared his throat. "I would like to stay and talk with Brother Tuck." When the two stood unmoving, staring at him in confusion, he hissed, "Alone."

Robin nodded his head haltingly, still puzzled but trying to work through it. He snapped his fingers to get Tuck's attention, and the man joined them. "Tuck," Robin said slowly, "Guy would like a word with you alone… apparently."

Tuck did not seem surprised, only pleased. He smiled and said, "Of course. Give me one moment."

Archer looked at his brother and shrugged his shoulders. "I guess… we'll wait outside." Guy barely noticed when they left.

"Now then," Tuck spoke after he had closed the doors. His voice boomed through the quiet church as thunder on the mountain. "How may I help you, Sir Guy?"

"I wish for confession." Guy looked solemnly at his feet, as if ashamed.

Tuck nodded. "And I would give it you. But this small church," he gestured around them, "it has not the proper confessional booth. Will you go on?"

"I will." Tuck sat in the pew behind him, but the feeling of eyes on the back of his head, watching, quickly made Guy ill at ease. "Please," he said, "is there nowhere else you can sit?"

"You mean at your side, or perhaps we change places and you sit behind me?" Guy nodded, preferring either to their current arrangement. "You do not like the feeling of someone watching you." Guy shook his head. "Tell me then, how do you ignore the eyes of God that gaze omnisciently?"

"I… I don't know. I-I," Guy stuttered horribly, not having an answer.

"To let me sit behind you is to put your faith in me, your trust. I want you to do the same with the Lord, Sir Guy. Otherwise we gain nothing from being here. Now I ask again: will you go on?" Guy nodded meekly. "Excellent. Has it been a long time since your last confession, my son?"

"Years," Guy told him. His words were stretched and thin, tired. "Too many to count." There was a long silence that followed, and not until it ended did Guy realize that he was perhaps meant to have said something more.

"Would you like me to retrieve the resident priest?" Tuck asked kindly. "I'm sure you would have an easier time talking with a stranger."

"It is because you are not a stranger to me that I wanted to speak with you," said Guy. "You know me. You know that I… I have done," he paused, "every unspeakable evil a man can do. I have repeated them often and proudly." He fell quiet again as the horrible offenses passed before his eyes, as screams roared in his ears. "I have stolen; I have lied; I dishonor my parents' wholesome memory; I am prideful, selfish; and I have… killed. Many people have died by my hands, these hands," he said holding the poisonous things out in front of him. "I am a monster that destroys lives and ruins families."

"It's true," Tuck stated after a moment. "You have done horrible things, my son. But unlike many men in your position, with such much blood and so many tears on their hands, you feel remorse for your actions. I want you to remember that. Because it's a start."

"A start for what?" Guy questioned miserably.

"A start for redemption, of course. Is that not what you seek by being here?"

"I don't know what it is that I seek." Guy stared at his feet, wishing he could move them. He wanted to quit the discussion, the talk that only dredged up bad memories. It had been a horrible idea to confess. He wasn't sure what he had been thinking.

"Do you know your problem, Sir Guy?"

He shrugged his shoulders in reply. There were many.

"For all your strength, you seem a weak man." As Tuck spoke, a legitimate feeling of disappointment snuck into his words. "You fall so easily to the will of others. Tell me, what horror lies in being your own man?"

Guy sighed, a weary sound that preluded ruminated thoughts. "I possess not the strength to carve out my own life, nor the wisdom to run it."

"So you become a pawn in the games of others?" Tuck bellowed at him. "If you must know your biggest fault, Sir Guy, it is your weakness."

"When I act on my will alone," he defended, "horrible things happen. I sold my sister to a young man I had only briefly met. I killed… Marian, the woman I loved— the woman I love."

"And do you wish to apologize for these things?" Tuck asked, silently imploring him to say yes.

"I want to," Guy muttered, "but…"

"Damn your pride!" he cursed. "What good has it ever done you? Name one thing."

Guy was quiet, as though actually trying to think of an example. And indeed a moment later he whispered, "I cannot."

"And that is why it is a sin," Tuck stated, "a cardinal one. I would have you give up many things, my son, but first and foremost I want that one gone."

"How can I?" Guy inquired. Perhaps he would do it, perhaps not, but he would like to know the path, should he decide to walk it.

"You begin by admitting you were wrong. I want you to make amends, in any way that you can." Tuck leaned forward and put a comforting hand upon Guy's shoulder. "You must approach the people you have mistreated. If you can give them nothing else, give them your apology. Bare yourself to them and admit that you were wrong."

"What's done is done. No one here would want any sort of… apology from me," Guy scoffed. The very idea that words would erase the suffering he'd caused was laughable.

"You won't know until you try."

Tuck stood. Guy wanted to stop him, to steal more of his time and wisdom, but he realized there was little else to say. The monk reopened the doors, allowing Robin and Archer to enter and retrieve him.

When they approached his pew, Guy seemed relieved, despite having gained as many burdens as he had just cast off. His face was concentrated in thought, but his shoulders were relaxed, his spirit light. Simply admitting to his faults and evils had lifted something in him.

"Enjoy yourself?" Robin asked with a grin.

"Come on," Archer said, "let's get out of here. I'm starving."

"We should have lunch outside," Guy thought aloud. He was met with a queer look from both men.

"We should what?" Robin asked uncertainly.

Archer raised a skeptical brow. "A picnic?" he questioned.

"Looking for another outing by the pond, is that it?" Robin added cheekily.

"No," Guy snapped before pulling himself back under control. "We take the horses out, somewhere far and quiet."

Archer and Robin glanced to each other. It was a peculiar request certainly, but the warm weather of the day— compared to the last few frigid months— practically begged for it. And Robin did happen to know just the spot where they could enjoy the sun and its lapping affections. "Why not?" he exclaimed with a grin, clapping his hands together.

Not a half hour later, they were en route. Robin toted a bundle of food upon the back of his horse. Archer carried Guy on his. The big man grasped him loosely around the middle, unable hug the horse's flanks with his legs.

When they found the intended corner of paradise, nestled far enough into Sherwood to be a secret, Robin dismounted first. He pushed down tall dry grass and hacked at the more persistent stalks with his sword. "If this dulls my blade," he shouted, "you're sharpening it, Gisborne."

"If it dulls your blade," Guy called back, "it'll be your own fault for picking such an overgrown area." Archer jumped off and held out his arms to catch Guy. Robin laughed openly at the figure of knight and rescued damsel they presented. He was struck with two unamused, matching scowls.

"Careful," Robin warned, nodding at Archer. "You actually look like him when you do that."

Archer shrugged what little he could with his arms so laden. "Not so bad, is it? He is my brother, after all."

"No," said Robin, shaking his head, "not so bad at all." He took a deep breath and continued with his small labor, a job that left him winded and exhausted in a way that wouldn't have a year ago, that wouldn't have before his poisoning and its weakening sickness.

It was a nice place that Robin picked, though he would never hear any praises over it. There was a quaint little stream nearby, just busy enough to make a rippling sound when it came cascading over a pile of rocks. The trees had no leaves as yet, but they were so closely grouped that they provided an adequate amount of shade anyway. The horses were unsaddled of their burdens and left to run and graze on dry grass in the intersecting glade.

Archer eased Guy onto the small clearing Robin had made and sat himself down across from him on a flat rock overlooking the brook. There was no talking, only the hum of nature awakening.

Robin sat down with their food and untied the cloth surrounding it. He threw a roll to Guy, who caught it even without a fair warning. They settled into their meal and went completely undisturbed until one could no longer hold his tongue.

"You didn't have to do that," Guy muttered, "in the church. I didn't care that they were staring and talking. You didn't have to say anything."

"Even if you didn't care," said Robin in reply, "it was bothering me. Don't worry though. I'll not expect any thanks or anything."

There was silence for a moment, then, "Thank… you," Guy whispered slowly. They sounded like the two most complicated words he had ever strung together, as though they were heavy and exhausting and had needed to be dragged out by great force.

The expression on Robin's face was one of endless shock. He looked to Archer to make sure he had heard it right, and the man nodded. "Well… you're welcome," he said in response. "I promise that despite what you may think, I only ever try to do right by you."

"I know," Guy told him, and that too was surprising. He must surely have seen the admission as humiliating, because he would not look up from the ground. "That's just who Robin Hood is. Isn't that right?"

"Oh, he doesn't like the 'Hood' bit anymore," Archer spoke up on Robin's behalf.

"Noted," Guy said in acknowledgement. He nodded and took a bite of salted beef.

"Well, in the spirit of acknowledging my good deeds as only that," Robin said, courteously covering his mouth with the back of his hand as he spoke around half-chewed bits of food, "I would like to revisit the subject of division of land again, if I may."

Guy rolled his eyes, turning his nose up at the blue sky as he released a haughty scoff. "God," he groaned, "not this again."

"What have you got against the return of the Gisborne lands?" Robin asked wearily. "Is that not what you wanted, what you tried to overcompensate for by taking all of Locksley? Why do you fight me? And don't go saying it's because you're crippled and confined. We all three of us know you're stubborn and fierce enough to lead from a chair if you wanted. So why—"

"Because no one would stay under my watch!" Guy screamed. It was a fuming, crestfallen declaration of grim fact. "Not when they could flee to the safe, kindly embrace of their returned Lord of Locksley. They would abandon the lands. And I will not see my father's pride come to ruination because of me."

Robin sighed, silent for a long while. He knew there rang a semblance of truth in Guy's words, that people would not stay if he was their lord, not if there existed another option. But for both their sakes, he spoke kinder, more hopeful words. "Oh, come on," he said with faltering confidence. "Some will stay. I guarantee it. It's been their home their whole lives. And if you treat the people well and with respect, many more will flock to you."

"Hardly," Guy sneered.

"Marian," Robin said, uttering the forbidden word that lay between the two men like a dormant battlefield, unspoken for fear of waking wrath and bloodlust. With an understandable feeling of unease, Robin bade himself to continue with the thought he had begun. "She used to say," he confessed, softly, gradually, "that there was good in you. 'He has a conscience. He has qualities. He acts the way he does only because he has been deprived of love.'" Robin paused, biting at his lip. "I always assumed she was forcing herself to see things that weren't there… But I see it now. I do. I only wish I'd been able to sooner, for her sake." Guy stared at him abashedly, eyes open wide in unhidden surprise, lips parted ever so slightly in silent breath. It was obvious that such heartening words (from a former enemy, no less) had taken a great and unexpected toll on him. He stammered clumsily over words and his ability to form them, whether to say his thanks or some flattering remark in reciprocity, he did not know— never would because Robin interrupted him. Teasingly, the man said, "Maybe if you hadn't been such a prat, yeah?"

Guy growled and huffed and pushed the man over. Robin laughed the entire time and rolled onto his back to look longingly at the sky, tucking his arms behind his head.

"I love you, Guy of Gisborne," he said earnestly. "God help me, I do."

Archer chuckled mirthfully and hummed in his throat. "God help the both of us," he said with a smile. "I love you too, I suppose, sword at my throat."

Guy was at a loss for words. His own feelings in the matter were unknown to him. He knew that he was willing to die for both of them— had proven that fact— but it was unclear to even him if it is was out of love or some form of penance. What he did know was that their presence was comforting, not wholly unwanted. The thought of being once more alone in the world unsettled him greatly. "And you?" he said to Archer, casting aside words of love in favor of pledges of loyalty. "Would you stay?"

"Oh, I don't know," the man replied. He dropped his hands to the warm rock and leaned back on them. "I'm right taken with Locksley now. Though I do love to explore the world and her mysteries. Maybe you put that land on hold for me, eh?"

Robin sat up and looked at his brother appraisingly. "I'm not sure if I like the idea of you going where I can't see," he stated. "You're a magnet for trouble, you are."

"As if you have room to talk on the matter," Archer argued. "I think it runs in the family." He nodded his head at Guy. "Both sides."

"And so you are cursed with a double dose!" Robin exclaimed with a laugh.

"It's just made me clever at escapes," he said haughtily, full of pride on the matter.

"Yes," Guy spoke, "our brother the escape artist."

"Guy, you flatter me with such terms," Archer smirked. "But artist, yes." Sobering, if only a little, he turned to Robin. "And what of you? What will you do when you've finally succeeded in driving everyone away? Will you sit in your big house, alone and proud?"

Robin chuckled and held his hands up in a mimic of surrender. "To be perfectly honest, I hadn't actually thought of it." He dropped his hands, rolled his shoulders. "My plans don't go past setting up the people I care for."

"There's the sanctimonious do-gooder for you, Archer," Guy jeered. "He gives and gives until there's nothing left for himself."

"I suppose I should be more selfish like you then, eh? Try and have it all. That always seems to end well."

Seeing an argument bubbling, threatening to ruin the nice outing, Archer stepped in, saying, "Ladies, please now." Condescension always seemed to be the quickest way to turn their focus on him instead of each other. And since they both seemed fascinatingly incapable of staying mad at him for long, it was the best way to end any and all disputes. "There's no reason you both can't be right. I think that staying at Locksley Manor for a bit longer and mooching off Robin's hospitality is a good way to please everyone, me and my wishes most of all. Why upset that?"

"He does have a point," Robin conceded.

"Well, maybe I don't like the sound of me living off of your pity and charity," Guy snapped.

"Then take the lands I'm trying to return to you," Robin cried, thoroughly exasperated. "It's one or the other, Gisborne."

"I'll think on it," he stated slowly, already contemplating the matter.

Archer stood and stretched his legs. "If you're done bickering like an old married couple," he said, earning a glare from both, "I'd like to get back home now." There was the word of 'home' again, the assertion that where they lived and whom they lived with created any sort of atmosphere that warranted the sweet endearment.

"There's no rush," Robin said, standing as well. "Nice day out, good breeze. We already have the horses. It's been awhile since I've been riding for riding's sake." Archer shrugged, not caring either way. Guy answered similarly. "Good. Gisborne," he said jokingly, "don't get up. We'll saddle the horses." Guy laughed humorlessly.

When the horses were readied and Guy had been raised onto one, Archer and Robin climbed into their saddles. "Brother," Robin said as way of asking if the other was ready.

"Brother," Archer replied with a nod, his hands tightening on the reins.

Anxious hooves pawed at the ground, ready to start into a trot, when Guy quietly said, "Brothers." It was not altogether out of place, but the plurality of the word could not be ignored. He had included Robin. Some nameless force stood in the way of him telling the man that he loved him, even in response to the other's admission, but he could call him brother. He could give him that title.

Robin stared at him, then smiled. "Brother," he answered.

The end.

If I had carried on past this point, I would have had Guy in a wheelchair. Apparently, they did exist at that time in China, and Archer is well learned in the technologies of the Orient. So he probably would have thought to make one for Guy. Eventually. Since he's so good at building things.