Title: Tender Loving Care

Author: TaserdbyJack

Disclaimer: Characters and situations are taken from Robin Hood, the 2006 series from the BBC, and belong to that show and its producers. I do not own them, I'm only borrowing.

Timeframe: Season One, after Episode Five

Feedback: Constructive criticism is welcome

"Sir Guy!"

Approaching Knighton Hall, Sir Guy of Gisborne stopped his horse and looked back in annoyance. There was a man standing there with a bow and arrow, pointing it directly at him. At first, Guy thought it must be Robin Hood, come out of hiding in Sherwood Forest to annoy him yet again. Then he realized that it was an older man with a vaguely familiar face. One of the villagers, perhaps?

"My son died because of you!" the man called out, and his voice broke. The tip of the arrow wavered, and Guy turned his horse, unsheathing his sword at the same time. Guy had no idea who the man was, or what he was talking about, but he recognized a threat when he saw one, and reacted instinctively.

"Edmund died in your mine!" the man sobbed, then caught himself and took aim again. "This is for him!"

Guy had already started his horse galloping as the arrow left the string, and raised his sword to slice the man down. There was an explosion of pain in his left shoulder and he was knocked backwards, his sword arm waving wildly as he struggled to stay in the saddle. The tip of his sword must have nicked his horse, because it reared up and completed the job of dumping him on the ground. Agony pumped from his shoulder through the rest of his body, and darkness fell towards him for one short moment.

Cursing that he hadn't brought his men along, although the last thing on his mind this evening had been company when he was trying to woo Lady Marion, Guy struggled to sit up. The older man stood there, watching, and as Guy staggered to his feet, the man's nerve broke and he turned and ran into the forest. Probably gone to join Robin Hood as an outlaw, Guy mused. No doubt Hood would welcome anyone with open arms, especially if they could announce that they had put an arrow into Guy of Gisborne. Even if the shot hadn't killed him immediately, there was hope that the wound would fester and gangrene would take him. Guy grimaced, thinking of Hood's prospective glee, and vowed not to give him the satisfaction.

Awkwardly sheathing his sword with his good hand, Guy looked down at the feathered shaft protruding from his upper chest. It would have to come out. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped his fingers around the end of the arrow and gave it a tug. The resulting torment brought the threat of darkness back, and with a bellow, Guy let go. He'd have to get help. As though hearing his thought, his horse nudged him in the back. Guy turned and reached for the reins, then realized he wouldn't be able to mount. Thankfully, Knighton Hall was not far.

It was a walk of only a few hundred yards, but at the end of it, Guy was shaking with pain and exhaustion. His legs were strangely weak, but he managed to stay upright and bellow for the occupants of the house. "Edward! Marion! Edward!"

The door banged open and Sir Edward came out. "Sir Guy …?" His voice trailed off as he saw the arrow, and he rushed forward to help.

"Come into the house," Sir Edward said as he took Guy by his good arm. Supporting him for those last few steps, he called out, "Marion!"

A moment later, Guy felt a hand on his left shoulder. Even the slightest pressure caused new agony, and he lashed out without thinking, tearing his arm away from Edward's grasp and swiping madly at whatever stupid creature who'd caused him pain. At the very last instant, he realized who it was, but by then it was too late. His fist crashed into the side of Marion's face, and she fell to the ground with a cry.

"Marion!" Guy gasped hoarsely, feeling a stab of new pain in his heart that had nothing to do with the arrow. "Marion! Forgive me!"

Edward was already at his daughter's side, lifting her up. "Marion? Are you all right?"

She stared at Guy, indignation turning into shock as she caught sight of the arrow in his shoulder.

"I will live," she replied, but the tremor in her voice belied her quick, anxious smile. "Sir Guy, I am sorry. I did not realize you were wounded."

Guy reached out to brush the tears from her cheek, but she flinched away, and he dropped his hand. Pretending not to notice, Edward said, "Let us get you inside, Sir Guy."

"I'll ride for the physician," Marion offered. This time, Guy did not hesitate to clasp her arm. "Marion! Stay!"

He'd been too harsh with her again, he could see it in her face. Belatedly, he added, "Please?" and was rewarded when she stopped resisting.

"I am sure my wound would heal better if … you were to care for it," he explained. Maybe a little flattery would help his cause.

He watched intently as she glanced to her father and then back to him again. At last, she said, "I have little experience, but if it is your wish ..."

Guy felt a triumphant smile tug at his lips. Marion and her father helped him into their house and guided him to lay down on the table in the main room.

"I will fetch some water," Marion said, and dashed into the kitchen. She returned with a sloshing bucket and some cloths.

"Marion, will you hold him on that side?" Edward said. "I will remove the arrow."

"Would you like something to bite on?" Marion was rolling something into a gag, and Guy frowned. Wasn't that the shawl he had recently given to her, after the Sheriff had had her hair cut off? Did she value her present so little that she would let him chew it to pieces? When Marion tried to stuff the roll of cloth into his mouth, he clamped his lips together and turned his head away.

"Ready?" Edward placed one hand on Guy's arm, and Marion leaned her entire upper body across Guy's right side to keep him down. Guy had just enough time to wish she would stay like that forever before Edward grasped the arrow and pulled. Fighting both of them in a vain attempt to escape the torment, Guy shrieked, his voice climbing as high as it had not climbed since he'd been a boy. But the arrow was out now, and he sank back down onto the table, trembling and sweating. Marion straightened up as well, leaving the place where she had been lying now feeling cold and deprived.

"Hold that there," Edward commanded, placing a folded piece of cloth in Guy's hand, then pressing the hand against the wound.

"Can you sit up?" Marion asked. "We must remove your clothing."

With Edward's help, Guy pulled himself up into a sitting position. It didn't hurt quite as much now that the arrow was out, but it was still painful, and he groaned. He was pleased to see Marion wince in sympathy.

"Can you tell us what happened?" Sir Edward asked as Marion reached for the fastenings on Guy's jacket. "Do you know who shot you?"

"Robin Hood?" Marion suggested.

"A man," Guy said curtly. "He said his son died in the mine."

"Well, that narrows it down," Marion murmured sarcastically, and Guy felt a flare of anger. Yes, many men had died in the Treeton Mine, but that wasn't his fault. Why hadn't that stupid peasant shot at the Sheriff instead?

Marion removed the jacket from his right arm, then went around to his left and began to ease the sleeve down his other arm. When it was free, she tossed it onto the nearby bench and returned to work on his shirt. As she gently tugged it over his head, her fingers brushed his skin. He shivered.

"Are you cold, Sir Guy?" Edward asked. "Shall I fetch a blanket?"

"Yes," Guy said, hoping for a moment alone with Marion. But when Edward went upstairs to the bedchambers, Marion went with him, excusing her absence with a smile and a quick explanation. "I have left my sewing things elsewhere."

Guy had flattened the pad of cloth against his bare shoulder as soon as his shirt had come off, but now he lifted it up for a quick glance. The hole left by the arrow wasn't very big, about the thickness of his little finger, but blood was still flowing out of it. Blood also stained his chest down to his waist, and he realized by the slight tremble of his fingers that he was starting to feel the loss of it.

Edward came down the stairs first and settled a blanket over Guy's right side, leaving the wound clear. Although he hadn't felt cold before, Guy now found he was grateful for the warmth, and suddenly wished he were tucked up in bed under more warm blankets. Marion followed half a minute later, going to the window for enough light from the setting sun to thread her needle.

"Father, may I have a candle here?" Marion asked, coming back to the table.

Edward reached for one of the candles and held it where Marion had indicated. Wetting a rag in the bucket, Marion dabbed at the wound. Guy shivered again as small rivulets of cold water slid down his ribs.

"It's deeper than I thought," Marion said, "but I will do my best."

She took up the needle and thread, and Guy gritted his teeth as she pierced his skin and drew the edges of the wound together. She took two stitches, just to be certain, then bandaged it with a clean cloth and tied it in place.

Marion pulled the blanket over both of his shoulders, then took a step back from the table. Guy wiggled to the edge and put his feet down. When he wanted to stand up, however, his knees buckled, and he had to catch himself with his good hand on Marion's shoulder.

"Sir Guy, you are weak from loss of blood," Edward exclaimed. "You must stay here to-night and rest."

Both Guy and Marion looked at him in surprise. Guy was about to protest when he realized it meant that he'd be continuing to receive Marion's tender ministrations, and felt a surge of triumph. The old man had practically given Guy his blessing! Perhaps the evening would provide the chance for Marion to get to know him better, to see that there was more to him than the part she seemed to despise. Reluctantly letting go of her shoulder, Guy sank down onto the nearby chair.

Marion, however, was not so willing to accept the situation. "I could ride to the castle and tell your men to send a carriage for you."

Even if Guy hadn't envisioned his shoulder being bounced and jolted all the way back to the castle, the thought of leaving Marion was almost as painful. "Perhaps your father is right. And …I would not want your good work undone by the roughness of the road."

"I do not think my work is so shoddy that it could be undone that easily," Marion shot back, and Guy felt heat rising in his face. How had he managed to insult her again?

"I did not mean that, " he stammered. "I meant –"

"It is getting dark," Edward said firmly. "Marion will stay here, as I do not like her to be alone outside when it is dark."

"The moon is almost full," Marion protested, but Edward shook his head. "We can talk about a carriage to-morrow."

Guy glanced gratefully at Edward and saw him giving his daughter a hard, meaningful stare. She returned his stare with a defiant one of her own, a look that Guy could admire, as long as it was not directed at him.

"Marion, take Sir Guy's horse to the stable," Edward said. "Sir Guy, let me help you upstairs to the bedchamber."

Marion obeyed with an unhappy face. Leaning heavily on Edward's shoulder, Guy managed to get up the stairs, and Edward opened the first door at the top. "This is Marion's room. I think you will be more comfortable here alone than with me."

Marion's room! Marion's bed! It was almost as intoxicating as the thought of sleeping next to Marion herself. Guy suddenly wanted to dance and sing, neither of which he did very well or very often. Then, quite suddenly, the Sheriff's voice came into his head with his usual advice about avoiding women. Lepers, Gisborne, lepers! Silently telling the Sheriff to push off, Guy eased himself down to the mattress. It even smelled like her. Edward unbuckled Guy's sword belt, then knelt down to pull his boots off and pulled the covers up to his waist as though he were a child. Guy was reminded of his own parents, long gone now, and felt an almost violent ache to be part of a family again.

Marion came back then, thundering up the stairs at a most unladylike speed and looking around in consternation. "Father? What is this?"

"You may sleep in my room to-night, daughter," Edward said firmly. "We will be right next door, Sir Guy, if you should need us in the night."

"Perhaps Sir Guy would like some wine," Marion suggested. "If he has lost so much blood that he cannot travel, he must need something to fortify him."

Edward looked surprised, then nodded. Marion went downstairs, then came back up with a wineskin and three goblets. She poured for all of them, then lifted her own. "To a speedy recovery."

"To a speedy recovery," Edward echoed. Guy took a large swallow. It wasn't as good as the Sheriff's wine, but it was acceptable. He drank again, and when he had finished, Marion poured more. She was just about to fill his goblet a third time when Edward said, "Time for bed, Marion."

Marion hesitated, then poured it anyway, leaving Guy little choice but to drink. Stoppering the skin, she laid it down next to the bed so that Guy could reach it if he wanted, then smiled. Guy watched from the bed as she pulled the shutters shut, placed his now empty goblet on the table, then picked up the candle and went to the door. "Good night, Sir Guy. Sleep well."

"Sleep well, Marion, Edward," he replied. They went out and left him in darkness.

Guy slipped easily into sleep, but much later in the night, he woke with a gasp of pain. In the dream that he'd been having just before he woke up, Robin Hood had been stabbing him, twisting the knife in his shoulder. Awake now, he realized he must have tried to turn over onto his left side, into the position he usually assumed while sleeping. It had only been a dream. The outlaw was far away in the cold, lonely forest, nowhere near Marion or her bed. With a groan, Guy tried to settle down again to sleep.

But the room was no longer as dark as it had been, and one of the shutters squeaked in the wind. Lifting his head to glare at it, Guy saw that the window was open, letting in moonlight. It was just bright enough for him to make out a dark figure moving stealthily through the room, on a path from the window to the door, a dark figure with a hood over its head.