Welcome

[Marian Fitzwalter]

All the leaves in Sherwood seemed to be doing no good now the heavens had opened after an unexpected week of dry weather. Normally it was dry under the canvas-like covering of thick green leaves. Marian suspected the leaves were just too new to do their job properly, which was bad news for the freshly repaired hut her gang used as head quarters. Still she was dry enough, so maybe they would be alright. There was something musical in the irregular beating of water on leaves and roof, but Marian couldn’t appreciate that. And she was too busy darning and repairing all manner of clothes to notice if she could. While she would normally have shunned such typically feminine work she owed it to the gang to do it once in a while, and besides she felt she deserved punishment for being such an idiot.

Despite having made it out of Nottingham mostly intact she still couldn’t forgive herself for letting it happen. She was supposed to be the responsible one. The one who didn’t get caught and who didn’t take unnecessary risks. Marian knew she was constantly berating the others for it, and she had done so herself. Thus she was punishing herself, as she would have done any to of the others if they’d run full pelt to Nottingham, dragging Eva along and getting caught and discovered in the process of it all.

But something had to be said of staying at camp all day, she was dry at least, rather than running from shelter to shelter in one of the villages, passing money and food to people as she went. The others would be soaked through once they returned, she would be dry, and could have food on for them. She wasn’t an especially good cook, but she was good enough to serve the purposes of camp cooking. Letting her thoughts wonder onto food she wondered what they had to eat tonight, fish again probably. She had remembered to but out the lines before the rain started this time, so hopefully there would be fresh fish to supplement the dried. Perhaps one of the nicest things about spring, besides the warmth slowly returning, was the appearance of fresh food on the plate.

Slowly she stirred, her muscles starting to feel cramped after what seemed like hours sitting down. Looking at the pile of mending done, however, suggested otherwise. But her fingers were aching and she was desperate to do something, something that felt real. She hadn’t left the castle to mend clothes, she had left to escape. But now here she was forcing herself to stay confined.

In her search for other activates she set about gathering together the few pieces indoors that she would need to start a fire. It was by now late enough in the afternoon that the others would arrive back from their various jobs, and all be hungry, not just from the general limit of food but from having been active all day and having walked miles carrying food, money and other such items that they aquired but never used. The fire had been moved to a covered area, making it easy to cook in the rain without smoking out the huts, which had been preferable in winter due to the cold nights and snow. Now Marian would rather not spend the hours choking to death when she could stay by a warm fire in the fresh air. As she picked up some smaller pieces of wood, knowing the embers would still be there from the morning, she glanced at the door, sure she heard movement from outside in a lull in the otherwise persistent rain.

[Jacqueline Fletcher]

She had been out since before dawn, sneaking around Nottingham and distributing money to the peasants. She never did it too obviously, though – not that any of them ever did – preferring to simply slip it into their pockets and baskets when they weren’t paying attention. It was best to work as a team that way, with one person distracting the peasant while the other slipped the money in and walked away. However, the Sheriff’s men were everywhere; she had been seen at least once, and had been forced to hide in the rafters of a stable for most of the morning while the guards searched the city for her. She mentally cursed herself; would Frederick Clarke Marian have gotten caught like this? No! Marian would have boldly walked through the streets and distributed the money. Marian would not have drawn attention to herself; Marian would not have been caught. Jacqueline felt nothing but shame and disgust for herself. She was two years older than the leader of the band, and yet, she felt like she was a child, running around and messing things up for the other woman.

After several hours of roaming the streets, hiding from the guards, and offering to help the other band members (with all politely declining), she finally gave up and decided to head back. Marian might be getting lonely, and there was still a lot of work to be done, such as mending (and washing) clothes, repairing broken bow strings, making new weapons to replace the older ones when they wore out...an outlaw’s work was never done, a lesson that Jacqueline Fletcher was learning very quickly. Some days, she wished she had remained at the abbey, where she would have eventually become a lady of great value, but she always shook her head and went back to work. She may have had time for dreaming in the abbey, but she didn’t anymore. She had a lot of work to do, like searching the woods for herbs to cook or heal with, repairing the roof on one of the old huts, and avoiding Frederick Clarke.

Frederick Clarke. Jackie ducked around a bush (bumping against a tree and sending a wave of water crashing down on top of her) and scowled. Why did she keep thinking about him? He was over. She hated him. He was not meant to be with her. He had been...a man of convenience. He had helped her escape the abbey and join first Robin’s, then Marian’s gangs. He had taught her all about fighting and surviving in the huge world outside the abbey. He had been her shoulder to cry on, her “happy place”, her...her everything. Now she hid from him like a shadow from a flame; she couldn’t bear the way he looked at her across the fire at night, his face so painfully emotionless, the flames flickering in his eyes to make him look so...so rugged and handsome. She just couldn’t bear it. That was why she lashed out at him when he approached her; because she missed him. ...no! She pushed another branch away, only to have another slap at her face. She did not miss him. That was just rubbish. He was just another man, that was all. She had nothing to do with him; she wanted everything nothing to do with him.

Jackie stepped into the hut, then stopped. She was soaking wet, and the hut was dry and comfortable. Did she really want to push her way in and force her sodden and frozen self on Marian? No. ”Marian? Do you want some help with the mending? Your hands look like you’ve been at it all day. You shouldn’t do that kind of work; you’re not used to it. I used to do it all the time in the abbey; it won’t affect my hands as badly as it does yours.” She shook herself somewhat self-consciously, but the rain soaked her again. ”Just hold on a bit. I need to change clothes. I’m wet through.” She ducked into another hut, the one in which she kept her things (what few she had, anyway). It took a few minutes to peel the wet clothes off, and a few minutes longer to dry off enough to make putting on dry clothes worthwhile; if she was even a little damp, the clothes would stick and cling to her as though she was sodden, and she would still feel disgustingly cold and wet. Jackie shuddered at the thought as she hung her wet clothes before the fire and slipped into her only dry cloak – she rarely wore it if she had another choice, as it was the one Frederick had given her, years ago. There. She was ready to face the world again, starting with the endless pile of mending.

She stepped back into the hut with Marian, taking her place on the stool and lifting the first torn shirt off the pile, draping it across her legs and neatly threading the needle before bending her head and shoulders to the task of fixing that ugly tear. ”Did you really work at this pile all day? Your shoulders and neck must be killing you. Take a break, Marian. I can finish the mending. And I helped ____ put the fishing lines out this morning. I’ll check them too, in an hour. Do you think we’ll have any fish this time? I hope so. It’ll make a nice change from the dried venison we’ve been stuck with all winter. D’you think Fred will – “ Jackie abruptly stopped talking, her shoulders hunching farther as she violently jabbed the needle into the cloth. Now, why had she started talking about Frederick? Damn.

[Marian Fitzwalter]

It was Jackie's entrance that attracted Marian's attention. She stood up from where she was bent over and smiled at the older girl. To be honest Marian wouldn't have minded in the slightest if Jackie had settled herself in the hut, she needed something else to do, to think about. And to be perfectly honest Jackie could always be relied for distraction, normally with her complete unwillingness to do anything that was asked of her. It almost made Marian jealous that the woman had such freedom, she didn't have to worry or care about so many little things, she didn't have the responsibilities Marian did. she wouldn't wish away what she had, except for maybe Robin. Not wish him away Marian had always wanted to be carefree and wild, but there had always been something or someone holding her back and requiring her care and attention. Even her great break at freedom had failed int hat respect. Still exactly, just the mess they had become since he left for the holy lands. That was when it all went wrong and that was when she had been as close to free as she was ever able to come. Marring him, as per the fathers' plans would have set her close to free, Robin after all needed no caring for. But things had not gone to plan and no matter how long she lamented that fact nothing would ever change. Why then, she could never understand, did it bother her so if that fight had severed all their once affectionate ties. Surely she shouldn't care now. He had hurt her enough, with out ever once even trying to make it up and just acting like it hadn't happened. Like he hadn't left and hadn't broken her young heart.

As Jackie mentioned the work Marian flexed her stiff hands again, while Jackie was right Marian would refuse to admit it, purely out of pride more than anything else. Marian smiled a little at Jackie's failed attempted to dry herself. "Jackie, I'm alright, really. It's nice to do something less active once in a while." She hoped Jackie wouldn't notice the lie, Marian had hated the day truth be told, no matter how she tried to lie to herself about it. Once Jackie had left Marian gathered the last few pieces of wood and started to set up the fire, lying each small piece where the embers were hottest and blowing ever so gently to kindle the flame on the smallest pieces of dry, thin bark. It didn't take more than a few minutes to get the fire started so it was just starting to take to the proper pieces of kindling when Jackie had finished changing, putting a couple of dry logs in reach of the flames Marian followed Jackie back into the hut. She almost opened her mouth to object to Jackie taking up the work, she had been out all day. Instead she merely answered her questions with a nod, company felt good after a quite day.

"Not quite all day, and I can check the lines I could do with a walk anyway. If the rain hasn't driven them all away. Lucky you put them out this morning." Watching the woman's neat skill with the thread and needle Marian wished she'd learnt to be that good. But at the time she could never imagine wanting such a skill and so had used all her privileges to get out of it. Which had been easy enough, not that her father ever found out of course. He would have forced her into it and then she would have stood no chance, he had wanted the perfect womanly daughter Marian was sure her mother had been, but Marian herself had never managed it. Not that practice would have made a great deal of difference she wasn't naturally talented at such fiddly things, at least not when it came to cloth. She could stitch skin as well as most, but that wasn't a skill to be proud of and show case and it was a rougher task anyway.

Jackie's sudden stop didn't surprise Marian, you only had to be in camp a few moments when the two of them were around to notice the tension. There was nothing either of them could to to hid it, mostly because they (Jackie) enjoyed ignoring the other (Frederick) at every opportunity. While she hadn't been present for the argument itself she knew well enough what had gone on, and like the rest of the gang didn't mention it in ear shot of either of them and in time forgot the specifics. The only thing she was glad of is that it hadn't involved the tearing apart of her gang, like her own with Robin. Not that she regretted such action. But Marian enjoyed the company of both and three gangs living in one forest all serving the same purpose would have been a little excessive. While she would never in a million years dare to mention it to Jackie, she had seen her steal Frederick's food enough times and heard her slip ups to suggest Jackie may still care for him with just he tiniest corner of her heart. But like all the best detectives Marian failed to recognise this quality in her own relationship with Robin, determined that he had gone too far and had crossed the line on too many occasions to be forgive unless he begged for it, and said sorry. But Marian, being ever wise, knew his pride well enough to ensure this wouldn't happen in a long time if ever.

So she said nothing remarking the sudden stop and moved quickly on "It would do, I'm sure someone will find a good seasoning from what we have left. But how did your day go? Do you know how soon the others will be back." Silently she added 'they'll catch their deaths if they stay out in that weather much longer', but she hesitated to seem so over protective of them, knowing most in her gang were free enough in themselves and did not need her constantlyworrying about them.

[Jacqueline Fletcher]

Jacqueline couldn't help but feel sorry for Marian. After all, the woman slaved all day and all night to make life comfortable for her fellow outlaws. She forced her body into the most uncomfortable positions possible just so their clothes got mended. She stayed home when everybody else went out to distribute the money and the food, just to make everything a bit more homey. She didn't get the respect she desereved, and that was just wrong. Jackie bit through the thread thoughtfully, her fingers automatically tying the knot in the sleeve of the shirt. They'd have to do something about that. Respect was something that the leader of the band must have. After all, Marian without respect was...just Marian. And that was wrong.

Jackie lifted her head at Marian's protests that she was 'alright, really'. "Uh-huh. Sure. Marian, promise me you won't try to do anymore mending. Those hands - She lifted the hand with the needle and pointed at Marian's hands - "are not meant for sewing and other women's work. They're meant for doing brave and noble deeds, like stealing from the Sheriff's men and giving to the poor. Hands like mine were bred for this. They're used to it. I'd stick to work that involved, you know, big and exciting, rather than simple and feminine."

She folded the shirt neatly on her knee and set it aside, reaching for a torn cloak. "Lucky? Not really. I just got tired of the same old dried venison. I guess I was just living on wishful thinking. I love fish...it's so good fixed up with those spices and the sausage sauce...Mm." She shivered slightly with the memory of Fred's the delicious fish, then measured out some thread and carefully began stitching. After all, when you've had nothing but dried meats for the past four, nearly five months, you rather look forward to something fresh, don't you? She certainly did...

Jackie bit back a smile as Marian wisely ignored the sudden stop. Dear old Marian...she knew that Jackie didn't like talking about that old sod. "Well, I wasn't planning to be back this early, but everybody that I asked said that my help wasn't necessary. Odd that..." And it was odd; Jackie simply didn't realize that her fellow outlaws knew very, very well how Jackie got when she was trying to help. She always got herself -- and everybody else in that vacinity -- into trouble. The others didn't want her to get into trouble, and they didn't want to get caught by the Sheriff's men. "I know what you're thinking, Marian," she added almost sternly, frowning at Marian. "They'll catch their death if they stay out much longer. Like I said, I would've loved to stay out longer, but the others didn't need my help. Don't worry, Marian. They'll be fine."

[Marian Fitzwalter]

The last thing Marian wanted was anyone's pity. She had left all that behind she thought, she had chosen the rough life, made her own road hard. She didn't expect the respect Robin had with the people, his fame and love, because she never asked for it. She chose to remain hidden not only for her own convience, though that had failed now, but because it empahsised her point; you could do all Robin did without the drama, the fame and the glory. Sometimes, she would admit only to herself, that it was hard. Working day by day, back breaking bone-tiring work often for nothing but he knowledge of smiles, sometime observed from the shadows but never acknowledged. Sometimes it was only a matter of self-control and iron pride that prevented her from changing that. There was no denying she would love to be recognised, but she had already decided that woudl not ba and in changing her mind she was effectinvly admitting Robin was right,and once she had admitted he was right about one thing he would surely press home that advantage.

She shook her head at Jackie's words. She didn't want to believe she couldn't do anything she wanted to and secodnly since when did she truly go in for the big and noble. Mostly those sorts of things happened by mistake. She did her best to keep on the low but it just failed, often. She almost pointeed out with indignation that her hands were bred for it just as much as Jackie's, Marian was afterall decended from two lines of nobles and every noble woman could sew and paint and sing and play music. But she managed to stop herself on two accounts, firstly she realised it was a proud and concieted comment and secondly she couldn't manage the rest of the list, so why should she be able to sew? She didn't realise this do prevent a 'You're wr..." and she stopped with a losed "oh forget it, you're probably right" she paused before smiling "I can't help those, they just happen" She couldn't deny enjoying those moments, those chases. At least when nothing major hung on them, in the open streets of the town.

"Umm. But if you hadn't put them out this morning it wouldn't have been done before the rain and we wouldn't have stood a chance of catching anything. But I don't blame you, dried meat is tiresome." All the presereved foods were tiresome, they all started to taste the same; all salty in some respect.

Marian understood completely why the others declined Jackie's off for help, the women was a magnet for trouble, seemingly no matter her intentions. But any outlaw was truth be told and Marian found she was one too, she just had a better nack for swerving at the last moment then most. It was something she had developed growing up with Robin, who had always held the capacity to land them both in trouble with the entire court, although she didn't realise this and would have hated the thought. "Mmm..." Though she didn't blame them she couldn't believe there wasn't some fairly safe job for Jackie to do, not that Marian was in anyway ungrateful for the company Jackie provided.

It was Marian's turn not to grin when Jackie said what she was thinking. She couldn't help but worry, her gang was the most important thing in her life now her father was gone, and Guy and Robini both abandoned. That and sitting by the bedside of the ill remined her of the tending the 'plauge' ridden of Nottingham in Robin's company and her own dear father, with whom she had sat on his many sickly nights. So she would rather not tend to her own sick gang, but she would if needed. Also they were always short of hands as it was so losing one termporailry, or god forbid permenatly, would throw every thing out of kilter and further slow their work. "I will not have my gang all lying bed ill because they stayed out too long in the rain. What good would that do? And I am not worrying over them!" It all came out harsher than she meant, but her mind was building up worse ans worse pictures at to their fate if they stayed out too long. "Look, I didn't mean that. I've just had enough go wrong lately" and with that she plonked herself down on the floor in the most unladylike manner. She didn't look at Jackie, simply stared between her clasped legs and arms at the floor, studying the swirls made in the dry soil with a new interest.

((ooc: That probably needs editing. I will do it tomorrow... Maybe. No major changes though))

[Jacqueline Fletcher]

She didn't really care to admit it, but Jackie had left the abbey for the same reason. She had no desire to strangle herself with corsets just to fit in those awful dresses or make small talk with men that she simply couldn't care less for. Then there was always the worry that Mother Superior would marry her off to somebody that would use her as a trophy, displaying her proudly to all of his guests, yet mistreating her behind the scenes. That was too typical of men; they used people, toying with their emotions to get what they wanted, then tossing them aside when finished. She had fallen for that trick once, but never again. She would never trust another man, ever. They were too deceitful. It was disgusting, it really was. Men – who needed them? At least as an outlaw she could live for herself, without having to worry about suddenly being married off and trapped in a castle, never to step beyond the courtyard again. As an outlaw, she was outside, looking in; that wasn't so bad, actually. She could do whatever she wanted to without fear of her actions becoming the latest gossip. She could wear comfortable clothing and learn how to defend herself if such a situation should ever arise. She could eat whatever she wanted without having to worry about gaining weight or being called a pig. Well, people could call her a pig, but as an outlaw, she could retaliate immediately without having to blush and titter with embarrassment. How did those noblewomen cope with such a stressful life? She had to admire them; she wanted no part of them, to be sure, but she still admired them.

Jackie silently watched Marian as she stitched away at the collar of a torn blouse. She knew she was pushing it somewhat; she had heard that Marian had once been a noblewoman, but she wasn't entirely sure if that was true or not. After all, the man who had told her was drunk at the time; for all she knew, he could have made it up off the top of his head! Still, she was curious how the band leader would react. The expressions that danced across Marian's face were rather amusing, and most informative. She was somewhat insulted at the statement; Jackie shouldn't have said that. That much was clear. She cleared her throat as Marian admitted that maybe she was right. "Actually, I rather doubt it. After all, you used to be a noblewoman – at least, that's what I've heard. Noblewomen are supposed to sing, dance, play music, and embroider. I know I can't do any of that. We didn't have that at the abbey. I was going to learn, though. Mother Superior wanted me to marry a nobleman and become a proper lady. I didn't want any of that rubbish, so I left." She stuck the needle firmly into the cloth, then yelped as the tip punctured her thumb; setting down the blouse, she wrapped a thin strip of cloth around her finger to stop the bleeding, then took up her sewing again. "Why did you leave? You had it made, you know. Everything perfect, and all that. You could've married and not have to live with all this. Why did you choose to leave? Most people nowadays would kill for the kind of wealth you would have had." She was probably pushing it again, but she didn't care. She wanted to know why Marian of all people would choose this sort of life.

It was difficult to argue with that sort of logic, and Jacqueline didn't try. After all, she was not exactly the world's greatest debater. However, she could agree. That wouldn't get her into trouble. "It tastes so salty after a while. That makes people thirsty, and they're not exactly thrilled to drink ice cold water in the middle of winter. It's cold enough as it is without making themselves colder. Hot water doesn't really help either. It's not very flavorful, and it burns the tongue besides. In winter, we're in a losing situation no matter what we do. I'm glad it's spring. The rain is a welcome sight. It means that in a few weeks, we'll have vegetables and some fruit. I'm rather looking forward to harvesting strawberries again. I just hope I don't eat all of them this year. They're so good, it's hard to eat them in moderation." She stopped sewing and lifted her head to gaze at the fire with a dreamy, faraway look on her face. Oh, fresh fruit...just the thought of it made her hungry. She couldn't wait until the plump red berries began peeking out from their shelters of dark green leaves... of course, thistles tended to hide there too. She'd have to remember to wear gloves; she forgot them every year in the excitement of fresh fruit and always returned with swollen, burning hands that remained incapable of anything but pain for several days. That was the downside to spring, but there were enough upsides that she often forgot the worst.

Jackie was surprised that she wasn't upset at Marian's outburst. Usually whenever people used a harsh tone with her, she reacted quickly, with aggression, violence, and an escalated tone of her own. No, now she only felt sympathy. Marian had been through a lot lately; what she needed was to rest and be pampered. The woman set aside her mending and joined Marian on the floor, silently draping an arm around the younger woman's shoulder. She didn't say anything; what was there to say? 'Tell me all about it' was motherly prying, and she probably didn't want to talk about it (at least, not to Jackie). 'There, there' just sounded stupid. No, in this situation, the best solution was to remain quiet and let Marian know that she had a shoulder to cry on, if she deemed it necessary. She was the leader of an outlaw band that was being hunted with vigor that rivaled, if not exceeded, the hunt for Robin's band. She had to remain strong for her band; nobody knew what she was going through because nobody really cared. Well, they cared; they just didn't show it. Everybody obviously felt at least a little intimidated by the woman. If she wanted to talk about it, she would, without their encouragement. However, she needed encouragement, needed to know that someone would always be there to help her if she wanted it.

[Marian Fitzwalter]

Jackie's choice of reply couldn't have been worse as far as Marian was concerned. Though the woman clearly didn't know, after all she didn't even know that Marian had been a noble woman. However, Marian could only think of trying her very best not to react, not to let the regret show on her face. She failed though and her face showed a mere portion of the regret and uselessness she felt about the mentioned skills. She couldn't even agree that they were rubbish. Her father had put too much store by them, even if she had never cared as a child. Watching the courts from the outside now she was all too aware of the value placed in such skills and so her sense of inadequacy increased, though she had escaped the courts themselves and now had no need for such things. She didn't dear speak, for fear she would lose control of her own tongue and say things she didn't mean to. Instead all she could allow herself was a tight nod to the comment on her background.

The tension in her face broke for a moment when Jackie's cry came. Marian could sympathise completely with that. She managed to prick herself just holding a needle. Whole days had been spent trying to sew in her childhood which had ended in blood and tears, and the complete abandonment of such activities for the rest of the day. Admittedly she was better than that now, sustaining only a quarter of the pricks she would have done when younger. That moment was ruined completely by Jackie's questioning. Though the questions were meant in innocence some of them touched nerves still raw enough to bleed.

Not knowing quite where to start with the answers and such questions deserved answers, Marian had asked so many herself over the years with the various new gang members that she deserved to have to answer them though it took all her strength not to become angry. "I had it made? Maybe I did, if I hadn't lived with the Sheriff's control and with the knowledge any day I could be married to men I didn't know didn't like. Surely you can understand better than most the underlying pains of such a life?" She nearly quoted her old self 'for Marriage requires a man' but that would be too close for comfort, however true. "I got bored of it all, and the confinement, so I quit. People have always killed for wealth, but it is the way of the world that those who come by it naturally are the more willing to give it up, they place less value in it." She couldn't bring herself to admit the real circumstances around her escape from the castle, the complicated memories and moments. Even to a member of the gang she didn't want to admit her weaknesses.

It was spring that brought hope to the outlaw's mission. With food on the increase and the nights getting warmer living in the forest became almost pleasant. At least they had enough to eat and it was as good food as you could get. Even the king would be jealous at the feasts the outlaws could lay on if they so wished, though admittedly it would be his deer at the center. Berry picking was an activity that brought out the hidden youth. It wasn't unusual for races to start or for the wood to echo with cries as more and more of the sweet fruits were found. Luckily the sheriff was out of touch with the world to the extent he didn't know when the peak of the season was and so never caught them unawares. Given the harshness of the last winter Jackie probably wouldn't be the only one to forget her gloves in the rush to taste something other than salt.

Marian refused to stop. How could she when her gang needed her and the people needed her gang? As for rest and pampering those were rewards for people who managed to keep away from trouble. She was always on edge, not quite trusting Guy to keep the secret since he had always managed to let it slip before. But that was unfair on him, he did his best she was sure, so why did she keep doubting him? Her thoughts ran in circles and she couldn't get any rest from it. She was scared that guy would give it away and then where would they all be? And it would be her fault because she went to the stupid castle and stupidly did not ask for any one's help and stupidly dragged Eva with her and then even more stupidly did not hear the man coming. And all her pride kept her from admitting it, because she couldn't face her own stupidity and so no one knew what mortal danger they could be in and that was her fault too.

She was grateful for the other woman's silence, no words would have made her feel any better at that point. She was glad of the support though, even if she didn't show it. A voice kept niggling away at her though, telling how Jackie wouldn't be so calm if she knew. But Marian was too annoyed and confused to pay it any heed. She let the silence hang there, while she collected her thoughts and tried to calm down a little. Jackie was right though, Marian did need someone to listen and someone to be there, she just couldn't face the reality that that brought. It takes courage to admit when you fail, and that was one kind of courage she did not have. Finally, she realised that Jackie was there and that she hadn't become upset. With out facing the other woman Marian smiled weakly. "I'll be alright in a minute, just one of those days." She hated that lie, but for once it was easier than the truth, easier than failure and messing up so magnificently. She owed it to her gang to be honest, but she didn't have the strength and knowing that made her feel worse.