Rachel stood, shell-shocked, staring at Robin for longer than she liked to admit. Although she hadn't been able to shake the feeling she knew what had happened, having the news dropped on her like that threatened to shake her to the core. Unwillingly, her fingers moved to the engagement ring on her finger, and she twisted it this way and that, struggling to come up with a response to what Robin had just told her. The only thing she was able to come up with was a brief and tiny, "Oh."

Alan smacked Robin's arm. "You couldn't have broken the news any gentler, man?" he complained.

Robin elbowed him. "Rachel, I'm sorry," he said. "We just didn't know how to tell you what happened. We were as confused as you. I mean, I always knew Gisborne was a lying git, but ..." His voice trailed off when Rachel glared at him.

"I genuinely believed that he had changed for the better, for his love of you," Friar Tuck put in quietly, tucking his hands into the sleeves of his robe. "I was shocked when Will identified him as his attacker."

"There ... there must be some kind of a mistake," Rachel stammered, grasping at straws now. "Who can look at somebody who's attacking them and go, 'Hey, I know them!' Maybe Will as mistaken, maybe he just looked like Guy ..."

"I know how much you want to believe that," Robin said quietly. "But you have to know it's not true. If Gisborne really didn't attack Will, then why did he run? Why is he gone?"

"Maybe—maybe he got cold feet before the wedding," Rachel answered desperately.

"And cold feet made him attack Will?" Alan questioned cynically.

Rachel bit down hard on her lip, trying to reject what they were saying to her still. "I want to talk to Will."

Alan glanced at Friar Tuck, who had his lips pursed in a disapproving manner. "I'm really not sure that's—"

"Let her see him," Robin interrupted. "If that's the only thing that will convince her of the truth, then let her see Will."

Friar Tuck heaved a big sigh, glancing once at Little John. The large man gave a shrug of his shoulders, indicating with that one easy movement that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with the conversation whatsoever. Once he saw that, the friar sighed once more and held out his arm to Rachel. "Alright, then, if you'll follow me," he said, guiding her through the halls of the manor.

The older man took her to a small side room, which Rachel assumed was meant to hide Will from any other attackers that might have planned to take another shot at him. The friar waited outside the door as Rachel went in to see her old friend.

That shock of red curly hair was spread out on the pillow around the teenage outlaw. His face was even paler than normal, his dark freckles standing out even more. As she uncomfortably cleared her throat, not sure if he was awake or not, Will's dark brown eyes opened swiftly, with fear in them. As soon as his gaze landed on Rachel, though, he relaxed, and did his best to give her his usual breezy grin. "Rachel! You're here!"

Rachel sat down in the chair beside Will's bed, studying the boy's face. He looked weak and pale, which served to put the bad memory in her mind of when he'd been stabbed in Camelot. That felt like a whole other lifetime ago. "Yes, I'm here. Are you—are you okay, Will?"

The outlaw tried for a smile. "Perfectly," he said, trying his best to sit up. "Well, maybe not perfectly okay, but I'm ... I'm alright. Honest, Rachel."

"You look awful," Rachel admitted, shifting uncomfortably. "Will, your uncle was telling me about ... about your attacker."

Will flinched guiltily. "L-look, I don't ... I ..." His voice died away as he struggled to find something to say.

Rachel crossed her arms, unintentionally looking extremely intimidating. "You don't what? You don't want to tell me who the attacker was, do you. Because it was Guy. Wasn't it?"

Will sighed, looking down at the floor. "Yes. The attacker was Guy. Rachel, I'm so sorry. It's ... there's nothing else I can really say. I couldn't sleep, so I was walking around. I ran into him, and I didn't even say anything to him before he drew his sword. We ... we fought, but he ended up cutting open my side and getting away. It's ... it's a deep cut." Rachel looked down, not knowing what to say.

Will didn't meet Rachel's eyes for a few minutes. They spent that time in an awkward silence, staring at each other and not knowing how to progress. The fact that Will was so certain his attacker had been Guy was disheartening at best. If she continued denying it, if she kept insisting that the Merry Men were wrong and Guy was innocent, would she be naïve? Was it so bad for her to try to believe the best of her future husband?

After the silence had drawn on for too long, Will dared to speak. "He said something to me, when we fought."

"He did?" Rachel looked up, her heart plummeting even further. If Will had spoken to him, there was no way that he could have mistaken him for someone else. "What did he say?"

"He said that he hopes you will forgive him,' Will said. "And that he can never be the man you wanted him to be."

"So suddenly, this is my fault?" Rachel said, her cheeks reddening. "It's not my fault!"

"I'm not saying it was! I just thought you would've wanted to know!" Will replied, his voice rising a little in pitch. "There was something else he said, too."

"What else?"

"He said you would have to delve deeper into The Story if you want to find him," Will went on, calming down after his initial burst in temper. "And—and something else."

Thinking irritable to herself that Will was mentioning far too many "something elses", Rachel tilted her head and didn't speak, waiting for the boy to continue. "He said that he knew the truth about Final Death," Will said softly.

Rachel's heart froze now. "The ... the truth?" He might have said something else, but she didn't hear him. Deep inside her, there was a strong desire to find out the truth about what happened to those who perished in The Story. A morbid curiosity dwelled inside of her, to know what had happened to Ewan after his death. Was he gone, just ... gone? Or had he moved on, gone to Heaven, where he'd always wanted to be? No matter how much she looked into it, nobody, not even the wisest of sorcerers in The Story, knew what happened after a member of The Story perished.

But how did Guy know? Realizing that Will was watching her with some concern on his pale face, she shook herself out of her reverie. "He always liked to be mysterious. But he left out the most important part. Why he skipped out on my wedding."

"I wish I could tell you that," Will said. "But we'll find out, right?"

"Not we, Will. Me," Rachel said gently. "I'm sorry, but in your current condition, I can't take you with me. You need time to rest and recover here."

"You're going to leave me behind?" Will asked, looking a little crushed. "After all we've been through together?"

"It's not like I want to," Rachel protested. "I have to, Will. You're badly hurt!"

"It's not bad. Just a scratch!" Will cried desperately. "Please, Rachel!"

Rachel shook her head, backing up with guilt on her face. "No, Will. Rest. I'll be back before you know it." Trying to ignore the crushed expression on Will's face, she turned on her heel and hurried from the room quickly.

Feeling distressed, Rachel chose not to return to where Robin, Alan, and Little John would be waiting for her. Ignoring Friar Tuck's attempt to hail her, she kept walking, not really knowing where she was going. All she knew was that she needed to go. To get out of that room with Will, to leave the others, just ... breathe. On her own. At least for a little while, until she could come to terms with the devastating news that had just been dropped on her like an anvil from above.

Making her way through the manor, she simply stared down at the floor and avoided anyone's eyes. None of the Merry Men were this deep inside; she supposed they were all near Will's room, to keep him company and cheer him up. At the moment, she didn't care too much about cheering him up.

Instead, Rachel went to the room that would have been hers and Guy's, moving past the rather stark and overly manly décor to the window. It overlooked the main square of Nottingham, giving her a good view of the square where Will had nearly been hung a year and a half ago. Since it wasn't exactly a fond memory of hers, she turned away and sat down at the edge of Guy's bed. The evidence that he had gone quickly was all scattered around the room—clothes thrown around haphazardly, an empty wardrobe, and his desk cleaned of everything. It was like the man had never lived there, aside from the clothes on the floor.

Rachel fought down tears, looking down at her lap. How could he do this to her? After the year and a half that she'd known him for, how could he just ... throw her aside like this? Frustrated, she clamped her hands to her forehead before dragging them through her hair. Part of her just wanted to start screaming in anger. How long had Guy been planning on abandoning her like this? A too-familiar feeling rose up in her throat. The feeling of abandonment, of being alone. Like when her parents had died. Like when Ewan had been written in ...

Forcing these thoughts out of her mind, she stood up and began to pace. She couldn't think about things like that. She needed to focus on something else, like why he'd done it. Maybe she was being stupid, or just plain stubborn, or both, but she couldn't bring herself to believe that Guy would just abandon her because he felt like it. Deep inside, she knew there had to be a reason. Why else would they have spent a year and a half together, only for him to disappear—and not to mention, attack one of her friends—the night before their wedding? She needed for there to be a reason. There had to be one. Otherwise, she didn't know what she'd do if someone else had left her voluntarily, like Ewan had.

Someone knocked on the door; Rachel jumped, spinning around defensively. After taking a deep, deep breath to calm herself down, she spoke to the person. "Please leave me alone. I don't feel like talking right now." Maybe she sounded like a sulking child, but she thought best when she was alone.

However, the door opened. Alan-a-Dale poked his red head into the room and gave her a little bit of a grin. "Maybe you don't, but I do, which means that you don't have to talk, because you can just listen to me," he answered, opening the door all the way and coming inside. "Mind if I sit down?"

"Yes," Rachel said. He sat down anyway, and Rachel crossed her arms. "You don't take a hint, do you?"

Alan shook his head with a small grin. "Not at all. Guy is a slob, isn't he?"

Rachel swallowed, avoiding Alan's eye. "I think it's more like he left in a hurry. I ... I just wish I knew why."

"I could probably give you some hint as to why," Alan said. "He got cold feet. I mean, man runs away the night before his wedding, what else could it be? Especially a man like Gisborne. I mean, he did—"

"I know what he's done," Rachel interrupted sharply. "And I know how you all feel about him. But I don't have time for that now. All I need to know is how to get him back, so I can cross-examine him as to why he left in the first place."

"Do you still think you're going to get married?" Alan asked blithely.

Rachel gritted her teeth. Alan was nice and all, but sometimes, she just wanted to throw him in the nearest river and leave him there. "I don't know yet, Alan. I haven't talked to him since he pretty much left me at the altar."

"It could be worse," Alan said. "He could have actually left you at the altar."

"Oh yes, that's very helpful," Rachel retorted through gritted teeth. "I need to find him, Alan. And that means I need to talk to Merlin. If anyone will know where Guy has gone, it'll be Merlin."

Alan nodded cheerfully. "Sounds like you've already got a solid plan, haven't you?" he said. "It makes sense. When do we leave?"

Rachel, who had been in the process of standing up, turned to look at him. "We?" she said.

"Yes, we," Alan replied. "I spoke to Will and he told me that you wouldn't let him go for his own good. Because he's hurt and all that. But I'm not hurt. In fact, I'm in peak physical condition. Which makes me the perfect volunteer to go with you and make sure you don't get into any trouble, doesn't it?"

"No, it doesn't," Rachel argued. "I don't want anyone to go with me. I want to do this alone. Not with someone who already has a grudge against Guy."

"A grudge? Rachel Andric, you are looking at a man who's never held a single grudge in his whole entire life!" Alan said, pressing his fingers to his chest in an insulted manner. "I don't hold grudges, my dear."

"Even against the man who tried to kill Will?" Rachel answered, crossing her arms. She knew how close the two were, and she knew that any insult or harm to Will was not taken lightly by any of the Merry Men.

Alan flinched a little bit at her question, and she knew she'd hit a sensitive subject for the bard. Not much could make him flinch like that. "That's different, Rachel."

"Is it?" Rachel said. "If you come with me, you're going to try and get revenge for Will on Guy. And that's not my intention. My intention is to find out the truth. I don't have time to babysit you and make sure you don't ruin that."

"My intention is not to hurt Gisborne," Alan said. There was an edge to his voice that Rachel had never heard before. "My intention is to protect you from him. Don't you remember when I told you that I'd stay beside you no matter what?"

"Not really."

Alan poked out his lower lip. "You wound me, Lady Rachel," he said. "I intend to go along with you, as your fearless protector and aide. Not as a pointless endeavor for revenge. I swear it on my wife's life, milady."

Rachel eyed him a little bit suspiciously, but his face was open and innocent. "Fine. You can come. But Merlin is going to help."

Alan smiled a little. "Ah, so I can convince him to love music as—"

"Absolutely not," Rachel interrupted sharply. "No convincing. I would be happier if you never even spoke to him at all."

Alan grinned and bowed to her. "Your wish is my command!"

Rachel wasn't exactly sure that she trusted Alan to be able to hold his tongue around Merlin; the two of them were notoriously bad at egging each other on. Even in the few times that they had seen each other since helping Rachel vanquish the intruder, the two of them had been at it again with pretty much everything. She still wasn't sure if it was an argumentative friendship or a friendly rivalry, but it exasperated her to no end, especially when it came to something as serious as her fiancé's disappearance.

Seeing her incredulous expression, Alan tried for an even more innocent face, which just made him look like he was in pain and trying to stay strong. "I swear to you, milady, that myself and the sorcerer Merlin will behave ourselves like the true gentlemen we are."

"That doesn't strike me as reassuring," Rachel muttered. But at this point, she was getting more and more convinced that arguing with Alan was going to waste her more time than just letting him come would. "Look, it's fine. Let's just go, alright? Please, please try your best to behave."

Alan swept an over-enthusiastic bow, his long limbs flailing around in the process. "Your wish is my command, milady. Shall we go immediately?'

"Let me guess. Robin already knows you wanted to come with me and figured that you would be able to badger me to death until I let you."

"Well, not exactly the way I would have put it, but ... yes," Alan admitted with a cheeky grin.

Rachel sighed, using her magic to summon a Story door. As it materialized into sight behind Alan, she pointed a graceful finger. "There's our opening. Let's hope that Merlin is in a good mood, shall we?"