Disclaimer: It all belongs to the BBC and Tiger Aspect Productions, nothing is mine.

Author Notes: Set after series 2 episode 'Show me the Money'. It's been a while since my RH muse has talked to me, but she graciously allowed me to finish off this fic at last. I'd love to know what you think so please review, enjoy!

At the beginning of her first full day as an outlaw, Marian opened her eyes and for several moments was completely disorientated. Her surroundings weren't what she expected. Where were the oppressive stonewalls, the tiny window that barely let in the light, and the often putrid odour that filled Nottingham Castle?

Instead, she breathed in a lungful of fresh cool air and was greeted by what appeared to be a rough wooden cocoon that was allowing dappled sunlight in to paint all that lay beneath it and the smell of fire smoke and earth. It was infinitely better than the castle and it was beautiful.

But of course, as Marian picked the ants out of her hair and noted how the mud already coated her clothing, she knew the forest was not to be perfect. Much's horror stories about how awful the forest could be during a rainstorm made her extremely glad that her joining of the outlaw gang came after they'd built a roofed camp. She also knew that during the winter months, the food would be scarce, and the weather bitter enough to penetrate their shelter.

The outlaw life would not be comfortable, but Marian, feeling the warmth of another nearby, knew that this was where she needed to be. The smile on Robin's face, even in sleep, spoke of exactly how pleased he was with her recent decision. Her own smile grew, her fingers trailing through his shaggy fringe. Robin's expression widened in sleepy response.

"Marian," he breathed.

Marian watched as he settled back down into silence and wondered what he dreamt of. Much had told her once about Robin's nightmares and how he'd said her name, out in the desert amongst the dying. The thought still caused an echo of pain.

At that, she noticed the chill in the morning air and quickly wrapped the cloak she'd used as a blanket about herself, curling her hands up in it. It was thick and soft and reminded her of evenings at Knighton Hall.

Just for a moment, in the quiet coolness of the morning, she allowed herself to bleakly think a single word.

Father

She had cried the night before, buried in the strong circle of Robin's arms after her flight to the forest. Robin had been surprisingly silent, saying only that he would look after her. Soaking in his presence, knowing that he was there, had been comfort enough and he had known that. She had seen his pain at his parents' deaths, had been there for him whilst responsibility was thrust onto his young shoulders, and so he knew what to give her in her grief.

She hadn't stopped crying for some time, until Much brought her a meal and Djaq treated a wound in her leg. After that, surrounded at last by people who valued and cared about the same things that she did, Marian had become calm and comforted and resolved. Theirs was the only way for her now.

She could see the others sleeping, Little John rumbling with snores and Djaq and Will sweetly wrapped around each other. But she could sense activity too, she was not the only one awake, and quickly shrugged her way out of her bedding towards it.

Do not always be so curious, Marian! she could hear her father admonish. She closed her eyes against it.

In the area that resembled a kitchen, a fire was burning and a pot of something was hung precariously over it. It looked so strangely homely in a place strewn with leaves and dirt in the middle of a forest. Of course, it would be thanks to Much.

He was chopping at something, a root or a vegetable, humming tunelessly under his breath when Marian caught sight of him. Marian smiled at the familiar scene, feeling a rush of warmth and gratitude for the man who had always worked beyond his own comfort level to keep Robin, and now the others, as comfortable as possible. She was sure that Robin never thanked him.

The next step she took caught Much's attention and he jerked out of his tune abruptly when he realised who was watching him.

"My lady! You startled me," he exclaimed quietly. "No one else is usually up this early."

"Good morning, Much," she replied, tucking her cloak around her a little more tightly. "Why are you up at this hour?"

"Someone needs to make the breakfast," Much indicated the pot and then whatever he was chopping. "And you will learn quickly, my lady, that what the others can cook is both limited and revolting."

"You haven't let Robin cook."

Marian didn't make it a question since she knew the lack of culinary skills Robin possessed and Much chuckled, looking a little more relaxed as he leant against the table.

"Oh no, we would all be poisoned by now," he replied with a wave of his hand. "And the others are much the same, I am afraid."

"So you do all the cooking?" Marian guessed. "They are lucky to have you."

Much looked highly embarrassed at this and shuffled his feet, looking around for some sort of inspiration for how to reply.

"Yes…..well, thank you, my lady," he returned his attention to the ingredients, scooping them up and heading towards the bubbling cooking pot.

"And you shouldn't call me that anymore," Marian followed him. "There is nothing left for me to a lady of. Knighton is gone and….."

Her breath caught, the words stuck in her throat as she attempted to speak of her father's death. Much paused and turned his back without a word, giving her a moment to compose herself as he busied himself with his cooking pot.

Marian took a deep breath and dried her eyes. It had been a while since someone had treated her with the respect that Much had just shown. Perhaps it was her current emotionally-battered state, but the gesture both touched and soothed her. She was grateful beyond words.

"There is nothing left for me to be a lady of," she said again, her voice stronger. "I am Marian now, to everyone."

"Oh…...well, I..….," Much looked hugely uncomfortable. "It will take some getting used to, my lady."

Marian smiled at him and he blushed, quickly replacing the lid on the pot and turning back to the pans where he felt safe.

"Why should it be difficult, Much? We have known each other a long time," Marian pointed out gently. "And I'm one of you now."

"But you're Marian! Robin's….." Much paused, but Marian's intent gaze compelled him to continue. "Robin's beloved. Everyone knows that."

Marian felt something warming her, the chill inside fading somewhat. Robin had become more earnest than ever in his declarations of how much he wanted the two of them to be together, but it was still altogether pleasing to hear that his friends knew of how he felt too. Perhaps it was not just her that he had become more open with.

"You're right, Much. I am Marian and that is what you should call me."

"I don't know if I can…."

"And we are friends, Much, we were children together," Marian stepped forward, remembering the often-anxious boy with the fair curls who had shadowed Robin. "And I owe you a lot."

"Owe me?" Much was startled and clearly confused. "You don't owe me anything, my lady."

"You brought Robin home."

"He was sent home, by the King," Much protested. "He was injured and……"

"And you looked after him," Marian cut in.

"Of course!" Much managed to appear both perplexed and affronted.

"You always have done," Marian smiled at him. "And unless things have changed completely, I know that Robin never thanks you for it, so I am. Thank you, Much."

Much looked taken aback, and didn't seem to know what to do with his hands, twisting his shirt and then scratching his head before settling on focusing on the breakfast. He was also blushing again.

"Yes…..well…..thank you, my lady," he managed, looking slightly apologetic. "I'm sorry, I can't just call you Marian! It isn't….proper."

"From what I have seen, life in Sherwood Forest rarely is," Marian pointed out with a smile.

Much returned her knowing smile and then busied himself with the breakfast that he was still working on. Marian watched, enjoying the familiar scene. It reminded her of simpler, happier times.

"And what are we having for breakfast?" she asked, not recognising the potent smell wafting from the cooking pot.

"Ah, squirrel," Much sounded defensive. "But if anyone of them ask, it's chicken."

Marian managed not to wrinkle her nose. She had assumed that Robin had been joking when he'd told her that they often ate such things regularly in Sherwood.

"I thought you hunted the King's deer?" she enquired.

"Not all year round," corrected Much with the air of someone who had had a similar conversation many times before. "And the Sheriff has taken to driving the herds to graze away from Sherwood in hope of drawing us out. Of course, Robin still goes after them, despite the fact there are guards everywhere and he could be killed. But it's becoming winter and I have to improvise. I am not a conjuror, I cannot make chicken or deer appear out of thin air!"

After his outburst, Much turned his attention back to the breakfast, banging pots and pans loudly. He blew out a deep breath.

Marian looked sympathetic. Too many times to count Robin or the whole gang had turned up at Knighton Hall during particularly bitter or stormy nights, looking for some food. She had seen them when they were cold and tired and hungry, when they wanted something warm and filling to eat. Tempers had been frayed and Robin had been even more aggravating than usual.

The sight of familiar movement outside the camp caught her attention and she reached for the bow and sling of arrows that were propped up against the wall.

"What are you doing?" Much wanted to know.

"There are rabbits outside and I know they will taste better than squirrel."

"Rabbits?" Much turned surprised and followed her gaze to where the creatures were scampering in the morning sun. "Where have you been hiding? Three hours yesterday I spent trying to find some fresh meat for my stew and now….."

He became speechless with frustration before attempting to calm himself and turning back to an amused Marian.

"If you could, my lady, I would be grateful a thousand times over," he watched her pick up the bow and arrows. "I didn't think you still hunted."

"The people of Nottingham need food," Marian replied simply. "Sometimes, the Night Watchman has to improvise too."

Much smiled at that, a real smile that Marian wondered if the others, save Robin, had ever seen. That was the Much she remembered from her earliest years. She was glad to see him.

"Catch as many as you can," instructed Much. "I could use the bones for soup perhaps……"

Marian headed out of the kitchen area as Much became wrapped up in his culinary plans. But her way was blocked by Robin, stumbling in from the sleeping area and squinting into the sun.

"Marian….?"

"You were expecting to find someone else here when you woke?" Marian asked with amusement.

Before she could pass him, he grasped her wrist gently and tucked her against his body. Marian didn't resist, enjoying his gentle loving touch and the novelty of being able to hold him without fear of being seen.

"I thought it was a dream," Robin muttered. "That you weren't really here in the forest. You weren't there when I opened my eyes."

Marian smiled in happy surprise against him. An admission like that from Robin was as rare as kindness from the Sheriff. She wondered if Robin would have let it slip out if it was not just she and Much within hearing distance, or if he weren't still half-asleep. But she held the comment close to her heart, another reminder that under his layers of so-often arrogant self-assurance there was raw need and love that was nearing the surface more and more each day. Need and love for her.

"Some of us are not wasting the day," Marian reprimanded him lightly at last, easing herself from his grasp. "And I am no dream."

"Oh, I don't know," a familiar smirk was beginning to form on Robin's lips. "You look like a dream to me."

Marian rolled her eyes at him and moved past. Robin's voice made one more attempt to ensnare her.

"Where are you going?"

"To hunt for breakfast."

She smiled to herself as she said it, not looking back to see the look she knew to be on Robin's face. She could hear Robin and Much talking behind her.

"I thought breakfast was ready?"

"It is, almost," there was a bang of metal on wood. "She saw some rabbits outside."

"That'll be a nice change from squirrel."

"It is not squirrel, it's chicken!"

"There's not enough meat there for a chicken, Much."

"It was a very skinny chicken."

The cool air of the morning rushed to greet her outside the confines of the camp and she buttoned her cloak securely, hooking the arrow sling over her shoulder. The movement was familiar, but different now. This was not to be a quick dash out as the Night Watchman before she was missed, this was her life.

She glanced back to the camp, pain slicing through her as she pushed away the image of Knighton Hall, whole then burning. The movement of a rabbit amongst the trees caught her trained eye. It was odd to be doing this again so close to Robin and Much. She could remember Robin infuriatingly attempting to correct her technique, Much's worry about what her father would say, and the feeling she got when her aim had been true. It would be true again.

She knew how to do this, in it she had control. In it, she could have revenge.

The sounds of the outlaws' morning routine flooded her, but the back of her neck prickled and she knew that Robin was watching her. Knowing her tiny smirk wouldn't be seen, she notched an arrow to her bow, felt focus slide over her gathering the pain tightly, and let the bolt fly.

-end