Title: Fevered Dreams

Rating: T

Summary: A parcel without a sender. A meeting missed. And the outlaws are in trouble again. But this time the stakes are higher than they've ever been before. Sequel to 'Unintended Consequences'.

Disclaimer: Don't own.

I'm back! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the final chapter of 'Unintended Consequences' and encouraged a sequel: robin and marion forever, ladyofthecelticland, Trinilee Greenleaf, The viEns of hIStorY, Gwen Beethoven II, jeps, robinsangel92, RixxiSpooks, Kates Master, domslove, Ash Light, scorpiagirl93, pixiespryte, MontyPythonFan, emerald owl, Starzangel, waltzing dace and water raven. This is for all of you!

Just a warning - updates may well be sporadic. I have my Grade Six flute exam in a week, and then its the holidays after that and... Meh. Anyway. I will try!

And I promise my beloved shadow-man will be making a comeback in this!

R&R is blessed to the Muse, and enjoy!

Fevered Dreams

Prologue - Wrong

Vaizey, slouched comfortably in his chair, flicked through a pile of letters, requests and papers. He picked up a particularly dense form to be filled in, regarded it with extreme distaste, and grumbled something rude and inaudible about paperwork.

With an irritated sigh he shoved the stack of work to one side and turned his attention to a parcel, wrapped tightly in brown paper, which was sat on his desk.

"Hmmm."

He quickly ripped the paper off the rectangular package and cast it to one side – revealing a leather-bound book and a crisply folded letter, sealed with a plain circle of crimson wax.

Leaning back in his chair, the Sheriff of Nottingham plucked the letter from the surface of the tome, scored under the wax with one neatly blackened fingernail and flipped it open.

As he skimmed the flowing script within, a slow smile spread across his lips, and his suddenly-alert gaze returned to the innocent-looking book, sat on his desk.

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"I thought she was supposed to be here by now." Robin was getting antsy. He tugged his hood further down over his face as he walked in front of the open window – this particular excursion to Nottingham was not with the express purpose of getting into trouble and annoying the Sheriff. Unfortunately. That would have been more fun that this… waiting.

Marian, swathed in a deep blue hooded cloak, glanced up at him with a smile. "She's a busy girl," she replied placatingly. "She'll be here."

Robin paced the closed confines of the backroom they were in impatiently. There was silence for a moment. "This is your fault, you know," he snapped, but there was no real malice behind his words. "If you hadn't joined us in Sherwood we'd still have an informer on the inside – now we have to wait for your 'contacts' to come to us!"

Marian smiled faintly. "Why, would you prefer I was still within the confines of society and on Gisborne's arm?"

Robin stopped his pacing and glared at her. "That's not fair," he reprimanded.

She just smiled sweetly at him.

He shook his head in despair and leaned against the wall. Avoiding her amused gaze, he glanced over at Will. The younger man was gazing out the window, his forehead furrowed. Robin felt the first stirrings of unease, and tensed. "Will?" he murmured, the other's name a question in disguise.

Scarlett didn't look at him: kept gazing out the window in consternation. "There are too many guards around," he replied quietly, and that single phrase slid an ice-cold shiver up Robin's spine.

He peered around the window frame and out – there was a rustle of fabric in the dimness and Marian joined them at the window. Will was right – the streets were teeming with armoured guards, apparently just… hanging around.

"Something's not right," Will murmured.

"I agree," Robin replied. "We need to leave."

"What about Alice?" Marian asked, her forehead furrowed with worry for their young informer. "She'll worry when we aren't here."

"We'll leave a message with the shopkeeper," Robin answered softly. "Arrange for another meeting, same time next week." He shook his head slowly. "We can't stay here."

Marian nodded mutely, and the three of them slipped out through the front of the shop, hooded and cloaked. A few words were exchanged with the surprised trader, and they furtively crept out.

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Robin's heart was thudding; adrenaline buzzing through his veins.

He moved along behind Will and Marian, keeping to the shadows. All was going well; they were nearly to the gate of Nottingham, and back to safety.

The young outlaw shook his head slightly beneath his hood, chewing his lip with a mixture of fear and excitement. Will was right. Something was definitely wrong.

But they were nearly out, and once they were safely back in the forest they could figure it out. And fix it, and then ride off into the trees as reigning heroes.

He smiled.

And then a hand roughly grasped his shoulder, hauling him back.

He wasn't expecting it, and they had him off guard. He stumbled. The hood was ripped from his head amidst sudden jeers of laughter and he was pushed to the ground. He thudded to the dirt.

All of a sudden, Robin of Locksley found himself on the ground with a sword at his throat.

"Well, well, well," a voice drawled above him. Guy of Gisborne hove into view, the beginnings of a victorious smile etched on his lips.

Every single muscle in Robin's body tensed. Marian.

Gisborne's smile blossomed into malicious fruitfulness. "What do we have here?"

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