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[personal profile] rc45
Title: I Will Never Stop Loving You
Author: channiegurl
Obligatory Linkage: http://community.livejournal.com/robinhoodslash/106096.html
Sporked by: [profile] agenttrojie and [profile] tea_fiend
Sporkage rated: PG for language (on the part of the agents) and conversational topics (also on the part of the agents).
Sporkers' notes: About as saccharine as a fic can get, and as illogical. In fact, the kind of fic that gives rise to the little-known ficcer's condition Diabetes illogica. Complete disregard for canon and for writing conventions such as spelling, grammar, formatting or the use of a beta-reader.
Betaed by [personal profile] ansela_jonla and [personal profile] sedri.



May 2009 HST


When the console beeped, it was Pads who was sitting closest.

Her reaction was unusual, to say the least. She punched the air. 'Hah!'

'What is it?' Trojie asked. She straightened up, groaning at an audible crack from her back, and put the bag of miscellaneous animal food down. Around her feet, her pets swarmed and fought over their newly-filled bowls.

'At last, I get a bit of revenge for being dragged into the Merlinverse,' the Animagus said, a tad triumphantly. 'And it's dead short and only kissing, no sex.'

'Where are we going?' Trojie asked warily. 'It's not Stargate Atlantis again, is it?'

'Nope. Entirely new continuum for us, as far as missions go,' Pads replied. 'Robin Hood (BBC),' she elaborated, somehow managing to pronounce the brackets.

Trojie sighed and sat down amongst the menagerie. Absinthe, who'd already hoovered up all her food, flopped down on her mistress's lap. 'Is this going to end in confusion and bruises on my shins from tripping over scene dividers again?'

'Shouldn't do,' said Pads, who was now perusing the fic itself. 'Not many scene breaks. It's just a long and badly formatted piece of illogical fluff,' she added.

'Do we have to do this?' Trojie asked heavily, not making any effort to move.

'Of course we do,' Pads said. She looked over at her partner. 'Am I going to have to come and drag you to the portal?'

'Don't wanna!'

'Don't be such a baby.'

Trojie pouted.

Pads shook her head. 'Not working!' The Animagus strode over and grabbed her partner's limp and unresponsive hand. 'Shift yourself, Absinthe. Mummy has to go and defeat bad guys and make sure that she has enough DEM lubricant to barter for more food for you.'

Eventually the two Agents stepped through the portal, leaving behind them several bemused-looking minis and pets.

They found themselves in a generic forest. Trojie looked at the greenery with interest.

'So what's this BBC version like?' she asked, fingering a nearby frond. 'How's it different from the original and the Disney and such?'

Pads pondered a moment, remembering her partner's dislike of complicated explanations of inexplicable continua, and summarised. 'It's a bunch of blokes running about a forest in hoodies,' she said. 'With anachronisms aplenty. And some of the accents are actually accurate,' she finished, looking surprisingly pleased about that.

'Is that not usual?' Trojie asked.

'Remember Men in Tights?'

'Point.'

'Now this chap,' Pads continued, pointing ahead of them, 'he actually sounds like he's from South Yorkshire. Because he is. It's brilliant.'

The man in question, clad in black leather and bearing some similarity to a dark-haired Boromir, seemed to be looking for something. The Agents ambled over, making only a cursory attempt to hide behind the trees.

'Who is he, anyway?' Trojie asked. 'I don't remember any dominatrixes - dominatrices? - in Robin Hood's gang.'

'He's Guy of Gisbourne,' Pads told her. 'Or Gisborne, in this version. Appeared in The Ballad of Robin Hood and Guy of Gisbourne. Robin killed him, and stuck his head on the end of his bow, and there was much rejoicing.'

'Why?'

'Dunno. Cos he could? Anyway, this is the Beeb, they've made it a bit different.'

Guy was fording the unnamed river that had suddenly appeared, making his way over to a body that had also popped into existence on the opposite bank. Trojie gave Pads a look.

'Are we going to have to swim?'

Pads went dog by way of answer, and leapt into the river, radiating an air of joyous exuberance.

'Bloody canine,' Trojie muttered, and headed downstream to find a suitable spot to cross.

When she rejoined her partner, squelching somewhat, the latter was looking sulky. Guy had dragged the body from the river and was instructing it to wake up.

'All right,' Trojie said, pulling out her notebook. 'Let's have some charges. And who's this corpse?'

'He's not a corpse,' said Pads, teeth gritted. 'He's Robin Hood. Guy threw him off a cliff' - she indicated the rock face behind them - 'for reasons of complicated angst.'

Trojie raised an eyebrow, pen poised.

'Marian,' Pads answered, glaring. 'It all got a bit complicated, and frankly unbelievable, and they shouldn't have been able to sail to the Holy Land that fast anyway, and then Guy killed her.'

'Short version, please,' Trojie requested, tapping the pen on the notebook.

'Mortal enemies.' Pads shrugged. 'So what Guy's doing here, looking all tender and distressed, I don't know.'

Guy chose that moment to growl and begin punching the prone form of Robin Hood.

'That's more like it,' Pads said, grinning. Then she frowned. 'Although beating up a corpse isn't really fair play. Not that he ought to be dead. And where's Friar Tuck? He's supposed to find Robin...'

Trojie gave her a pat on the arm with her elbow, both hands busy with the chargelist.

Several broken ribs later, Robin woke up.

“I thought I’d killed you, Hood.” Said Guy after a few minuets had slipped by. And indeed, some quite lovely orchestral music had played during the brief pause.

'Considering you've been trying to for years,' Pads muttered, 'I can't think why you look so distressed.'

'I'm charging for punctuation abuse, as well as the minuets, because I can't see how an orchestra could have got into this forest,' Trojie said, noting these things. 'And for unnecessary abuse of a canon character. Broken ribs aren't a good thing.'

'Not even if you've a pain kink,' Pads agreed. 'Mind you, I'm surprised they weren't broken anyway, after that fall.'

'I'm still not sure how he's meant to have survived it.' Both agents looked up at the towering cliff, brows knitted in confusion.

'He's a hero, I suppose. He's always doing death defying wossnames.'

'Bah.'

The canons, meanwhile, had moved on to the topic of Marian.

Guy had wondered how long it would be before her name was mentioned. Even when she was alive she had always worked her way into any situation between himself and Robin, whether physically or otherwise. Why should that stop just because she was dead?

'It sounds to me like the Author thinks the logical solution would have been a threesome but was too afraid to go there,' said Trojie critically. 'She 'worked her way' between them, in ways including physically?'

'I for one am glad that the Author didn't go there,' Pads said. 'I have no desire to see what she'd do with three sets of pronouns and choreography.'

'Point.'

'And I hope you're charging for horrible characterisation abuse. Robin and Guy both loved Marian. To, like, really stupid degrees. And they hated each other. Hence the whole Guy throwing Robin off a bloody great cliff thing.'

'Got it. But this is Bad Slash, remember? You just know those two are going to end up shagging.'

'With broken ribs.'

'Bad Slash,' Trojie repeated. Pads looked mutinous.

Guy announced that he killed Marian because he couldn't compete with her for Robin's affections. Trojie charged for anachronistic attitudes to homosexuality. Pads beat her forehead against the nearest tree and groaned.

Unfortunately, things could still get worse. And rapidly did so, as Robin stood, aided by Guy, who began groping his chest. Declarations of mutual love and adoration did nothing to temper Pads' growing anger, and Trojie was forced to balance the chargelist on her partner's shoulder to free up an arm for restraining purposes.

Robin fell asleep on his feet, and the orchestra popped back into existence momentarily. When he returned to consciousness, it disappeared. This repeated several times, the agents watching in growing confusion, before realisation dawned.

'Bloody minuets,' Trojie grumbled, scribbling it down.

The fluff continued unabated for a while longer, culminating in a snog.

When they broke apart Guy’s fingers moved to the fine chain around Robin’s neck.

“You still have the ring?”

“Of course. I always wear it.”


'What?!' Pads squawked. 'But... but that's Marian's ring. Unless I've got my canon confused. I'm pretty sure it's the one he proposed to her with. Or something. At any rate, it wasn't Gisborne's.'

'I thought you knew this canon,' Trojie said suspiciously.

'I do. I mean, I know Robin Hood. But Marian's a much later addition to the legends, and this whole thing is just the Beeb pulling cliches out of their collective arses, and I wasn't paying that much attention and-'

'He's leaving!' Trojie interrupted in a hiss.

'What?' Pads ceased her diatribe and looked up, to see Guy striding off into the forest. 'Quick, stop him!'

'With what?'

With a growl, Pads went dog again, and darted off after the disappearing canon. Trojie turned her attention to the groaning and injured Robin. She poked him with the toe of her boot, eyeing him critically.

'You,' she said to him, crouching and gently moving his shirt, 'need medical attention that I don't have the time or expertise to give you.' He groaned and tried to bat her away. 'But I think your most pressing problem is probably the Wraith in your brain.' He tried to stand, and she pushed him down. 'And walking around isn't going to help those ribs, sunshine,' she added breezily.

The distant sound of barking got louder and louder. Trojie stood ready with her bell held in two hands like a cricket bat, one foot planted heavily on Robin's shoulder to stop him getting away.

Guy rocketed back into the clearing, pursued by Pads, and ran straight into Trojie's bell with a clang. Canons thus deposited into a neat heap, the exorcism began.

'Avaunt, all ye elementals and spirits of poorly devised fluff! I banish bad formatting and spelling mistakes! I banish the floating orchestra! I banish poor characterisation and woobiefication! O canon, hear my cry! Return to this accursed place and make it beautiful once more by your presence! I bind canonical character motivations to these poor wretches once more! O spirit of authorial influence, I banish thee! Avaunt! Avaunt!'

It truly was a dreadful racket, but Pads was used to it by now. As the Wraith drifted off on the breeze, she shook herself gleefully and went human.

'Are you sure it's quite necessary to keep Robin thus restrained?' she asked Trojie suspiciously. The veteran was now sitting next to the canon and attempting, tentatively, to palpate his ribs. It looked rather like she was feeling him up, admittedly.

'I'm trying to figure out how broken the poor bugger is,' Trojie said. 'Perks of being the closest thing to medically trained out of the pair of us.' She stuck her tongue out.

Pads considered the situation. 'Fair enough,' she said, plonking herself down. 'In that case, and while he's distracted, I'm having his boots.'

Some five minutes later, boots safely pinched and stashed in the Bag, Pads decided it was probably time to be professional again, and got out her neuralyser. She dragged Trojie away from Robin and the now-awakening Guy.

'If you gentlemen would just look this way?' she asked, making sure Trojie had her sunglasses off the top of her skull and on properly over her nose before putting her own on.

FLASH

'Excellent. Now, Robin, you've just been thrown off a cliff, which is why your ribs are giving you gyp. Just sit tight for a bit, and I'm sure a mysterious stranger will be along to drag you off to his cave soon enough. And as for you... Trojie, this isn't going to work.'

'Why not?'

'He's meant to be looking for Robin, but he's not meant to find him. Open us a portal to the other side of the forest?'

'Sure thing,' Trojie said, and did so.

A moment later, surrounded by more unremarkable shrubbery, Pads turned to Guy of Gisborne, and looked him sternly in the eye. He groaned, still woozy from the neuralysation. 'Guy,' she began, 'you're searching for Robin Hood. You've thrown him off a cliff and he's probably dead, but your psycho boss is making you present a corpse as proof. And you, er, crashed into a low-hanging tree branch and your horse bolted, which explains the headache. Okay?'

He nodded, groggy, and rubbed at his head.

'Excellent. Off you go, there's a good chap, and when I say "good" I of course mean "dark and possibly evil and full of interestingly screwed up character motivations".'

The canon disappeared into the depths of the forest. The agents watched him go.

'Well,' said Trojie after a moment. 'Shall we head back?'

They did so, and a moment later were ensconced in RC#45, and rather more noticeably in a pile of fur and feathers and slobber that constituted the menagerie's usual greeting. Pads stood back, the Unnamed Cat twisting around her ankles, as Trojie tried valiantly to extricate herself from the heap.

There was a crash as the valiant effort failed. 'A hand?' Trojie asked muffledly, managing to shove a limb up above the level of frantic pets. Pads hauled her out.

'You don't think they're hungry again, do you?' the veteran asked plaintively. 'How long do you think we were gone for?'

'This is PPC HQ - Glod alone knows how long they feel like they've been alone,' said Pads. 'And we're out of pet food again, I see,' she added, looking into the cupboards only to find them bare, and seeing that the bag of food that Trojie had unwisely left on the floor before the mission was now empty and badly chewed.

'... I can probably do something about that,' Trojie said, feeling around cautiously in her pockets.

Pads put a weary hand over her eyes. 'What have you walked off with now?'

'Um ...' Trojie held out her hand.

'Is that-'

'The 'purple stoned ring' Guy supposedly gave Robin? Yep.' Trojie grinned triumphantly. 'I figure that ought to be worth quite a lot of pet food, don't you?'

And with that they went forth once more into the bowels of HQ, bickering amicably about just how one went about getting a ring stoned.
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