"Oh," he continued "And if you do kill me that would be a great example against your own philosophy."

"An example of what?" Came Robin's reply through gritted teeth.

"An argument settled with bloodshed."

"LEAVE!"

Robin awoke with a start. His breath was heavy and filled the empty silence of the dark room and as he slowly sat up he noticed his thin shirt sticking to him with a fine layer of sweat. As he reached down to peel the shirt off, having remembered it was the only shirt he had with him and he would prefer to keep it clean, he grimaced a little. Robin was not foreign to huge amounts of daily excursion, but after being strung up in a desert and burnt alive under the sun, his muscles ached under his reddened skin. He made a mental note to ask Djaq if there was anything he and the rest of the lads could use to ease the burns.

With a lazy motion he dragged his hands over his face, in doing so he found it to also be coated in sweat. This brought his mind back to his dream, or rather his memory.

Marian walked away from him, getting smaller and smaller until she was out of sight. Until once again she was out of reach.

Always different directions.

As she left she had caught his eye. She had looked at him with understanding. Of course Marian would believe that she could handle any situation on her own and would be alright without him. But did he himself understand what he had done?

Robin let out a slow tortured breath. He was a born leader, but with that blessing came with the curse of responsibility. He had made so many choices in his life, some had been successful and some had not. And those that had not, haunted him.

Realising his thoughts were leading him to dark places he distracted himself by looking around the room. Bassam had been kind enough to permit them shelter once more. The house was large and grand, a form of architecture Allan, John and Will had been throughly stumped by. Much of course had been kind enough to describe to the three of them every building he and Robin had visited in the Holy Land, in lengthy detail.

The room Robin occupied was substantially plainer than the rest of the house. The walls were a simple cream with only a few crenelations of exquisite craftsmanship around the edges of the ceiling and candle holders protruded from the walls at even distances. A large window was set into the far wall and most of the space was taken up by two low beds. Robin was in the bed closest to the door and in the other lay a sleeping Much. Of course the faithful friend would insist on being as close to his Master as he could.

Turning his weary eyes to the window he gazed out at the stars. They were different to the ones that could be seen from England. But it was still the same inky, blue-black sky. He found that thought comforting. The pin points of lights cast their heavenly eyes down on him and Robin couldn't help but feel immensely dirtied with sin compared to the purity of the scattered torches. But despite the rising feeling of unworthiness he could not tear his eyes away.

Are you looking at them too, my Love?

He imagined her standing by a similar looking window, one hand placed gently on the stone as she looked out. Her skin made to look almost translucent under the soft light, her dark hair shining black as midnight, full lips slightly parted and her eyes...Her eyes would hold greater beauty than the jealous stars could ever dream of.

But you let her go.

Being back in Acre, the warm air smothering him, he had felt all of those memories scratching at his skin. And he didn't want them. Contrary to it being a "Holy War" Robin had thought it hell on earth; Death had been his closest companion and blood had been his bath water. After the first couple of weeks he had become numb. The only way to cope with the horrors had been to do as you were commanded and then ignore the heart-wrenching guilt that burned at the back of your mind. He believed he had left that bulging chest of remorse behind in the Holy Land. But now it sat waiting for him, bubbling as if the wood had turned to boiling liquid, waiting to burst. And who knows what would happen to him if it ever did.

This of course had made Robin focus of his mission had helped him a little, but by the time he had reached Gisbourne he was at breaking point, and the chest was moments away from unlocking.

To any other man the guilt could have been delt with in time. But not for Robin Hood. John had been right all those months ago in that barn. He wouldn't be able to shoot if he let the memories take over him.

But it was not only because of his frantic desperation that Robin had not killed Guy. He had ended the lives of men just moments before and yet he could not bring himself to take the life of his worst enemy.

He did not want to murder a man because it was the easiest way out.

He did not want to settle an argument with bloodshed.

Because he knew if he did, he would have become like the leather man who stood before him, a man who turns to violence just to get his way. And Robin Hood could never become that.

Guy knew this, and so spitting Robin's words right back at his face had saved his life. With the teasing chest of guilt right behind him Robin's arrogance refused to allow him to become the sad, angry man and fulfil Guy's words. His stubborn nature combined with his desperation had stood in the way of justice.

And so his pride had blinded him. Now Marian was in danger because of his vanity. If his arrogant nature had not got in the way he would have killed the man and had Marian safe in his arms. In another life he might even had been married to her now.

Properly married this time. He thought with a slight smile.

But his lips soon dropped into a frown again and he let out a groan, before letting his heavy head fall into his hands.

"I'm a fool." he murmured.

"A fool? Master-"

"Much?" Robin's head flew up, "Why are you awake?"

Sure enough there sat his friend, wrinkled clothes and untamed hair sticking in all direction.

"Um...You woke me up Master," But then wishing not to blame him he quickly added, "But I wasn't really in a deep sleep, I mean I probably would have awoken anyway."

"My apologies for waking you, it seems I cannot do anything right at the moment."

There was a moment of silence between the two men before Much posed his question.

"Was it that dream?" He was referring to the bloody solider dreams brought on by many battles.

"Sort of." Robin replied, not wishing to burden his friend with his contemplations.

"I had one last night too... Sand and blood and... Of course it's not really surprising we'd get them again, what with being back here. Though I have to say I don't remember it being quite this hot. I mean how do people live here? I'll have to ask Djaq in the morning. Do you think it's hotter than it was before?"

"I don't think so Much," Robin answered his ramblings, grateful for a distraction. "We're probably just used to sleeping in a cold forest."

"Well I must say I really do miss that forest now, even though these beds do make a nice change. In fact I'd rather be in that bat infested cave then in this stuffy place. The air even feels thicker here."

Robin chuckled a little at that, knowing Much would be singing a different tune if he were in said cave.

"Would you really prefer to be there?" He asked a little teasingly, a glint returning to his eye as he looked over at the still dishevelled Much.

"Why yes, Master."

"Even with our lack of pleasant dinning in Sherwood?"

The sudden look on Much's face showed that, for once, he had not considered food.

"Well...when you put it that way. We have been eating very well here."

Robin laughed out loud at this and Much smiled. He was glad to have cheered up his previously down-trodden Master. Even if it was at his misfortune.

The golden laughter died down after awhile and Much, unable to stay silent for long, posed yet another question.

"Do you think Djaq prefers it here? I mean... Do you think she might stay?"

Robin had already considered this, he had not missed the smile on her face when she had entered Bassam's house. And he knew that feeling too, for it was the same one he had felt deep in his belly when he and Much returned to Locksley all that time ago. And the same one he would surely have when he returned home once more.

"I do not know," He answered truthfully. "I would like to think she would stay with us. But it is her own choice. And Will's."

"What do you mean Will?"

"They are in love Much, they would never allow themselves to be parted."

These words, of course, brought a torrent of emotions flooding back into Robin.

I allowed her be parted from me. Again.

Robin's face changed so dramatically it was as if he had transformed into a different man entirely.

"Master, you had to let her go," Much knew him well enough to guess the reason behind his sudden change in attitude. "If you hadn't Gisbourne would know about the two of you and then you - uh and Marian would both be in even more danger. I mean even more danger than usual. And that's saying something, I mean-"

"I should have killed him, Much." Robin's voice was so cold compared to the air in the room that Much was rendered unusually silent. And for once he did not know how to answer.

"I held the sword right to his throat," Robin continued in that strange mechanical tone, and his eyes seemed to look straight through his friend. "I've imagined murdering that man so many times, and the moment I get that opportunity I..." He let out a sigh that broke the slightly unnerving gaze.

"Master, you are anything but a coward. In fact, if you don't mind me saying, I think you are the bravest man in England, the world even. Of course I haven't met every person in the world, but if I did I'm sure you'd still be the bravest."

"Then why did I do it?" Robin turned his face back to Much, the tortured look in his eyes was evident and his voice was low and pleading. "Why did I let that monster live and walk away with Marian? Surely there must have been another way, Much. Surely there must have. I could have spun him a yarn or knocked him out cold. But..." He paused to gather his thoughts, not wanting to break down in front of his friend. "I love her, Much. I really do. But then why did I let her go, especially after we've been parted so many times already?"

A weighted silence filled the room. Robin wasn't expecting an answer, perhaps Much had fallen asleep anyway. Robin knew his actions had been a result of pride and desperation, but that did not halt his endless questioning of it.

As the weary man lay back on his bed again, trying to will a peaceful slumber upon himself, a small voice from across the room penetrated his thoughts.

"Perhaps it was God's will."

Much was a simple minded man, one who would rather contemplate what he was having for dinner than enlightening philosophies. Yet he was also the purest man Robin had met, he doubted a sinful thought had ever entered his head. And sometimes, when there seems to be no possible answer, the purest are also the wisest.

But why would God allow a man like Gisbourne to live? Why would he allow suffering to purge his creation? And why would he allow those who fight for justice and righteousness to be trodden on by boots of tyranny? But the answer came to Robin in an instant, and though not fully satisfying, he resigned to it. Perhaps there was a greater plan at work, one where Gisbourne, for some unknown reason, was a necessary part of it. After all a painting or tapestry would not be quite as beautiful without the shadows.

Robin could fight against injustice, he could fight against men, but even the great Robin Hood could not fight against God.

But that didn't mean he had to like it.

That didn't mean he couldn't have Marian by his side.

She would be safe if Gisbourne did not know she was with me.

Confronting him with their relationship would only end in turmoil, and Robin knew this after watching his anger at her rejection burn Knighton Hall to the ground. The man was unpredictable and dangerous and as much as Robin wanted to flaunt the truth in his face his reason told him it was a bad idea.

But if he is so dangerous why did I let her leave with him today?

But Robin shook that thought from his head. It would do no good to dwell on the past. He already had a plan forming in his head in order to be reunited with her.

No heroics, no messing around this time. I'll just find her and then we'll run.

He'd go into the town tomorrow, scour the whole place if he had too. He would find her again.

He turned his head from the ceiling to look out of the window once more. And he could swear the stars shone a little bit brighter.

This time he could imagine, not only Marian standing at the window, but also himself. In the image he stood behind her will his arms wrapped lovingly around her waist and his chin resting on her perfectly sloped shoulder as they both stared out into the night sky with soft matching smile on their faces.

"I'm coming for you, my love."

Okay, so there's the explanation. It's a little bit complicated I know, but I like complexity. Basically Robin didn't kill Guy because Guy threw the whole "An argument doesn't have to be settled with bloodshed" thing back at his face and so Robin's pride would not allow him to kill Guy. Robin also would not want to become like Guy, seeing as he needs to be "Robin Hood". But of course that's not really enough because Robin would have one anything to be with Marian so I brought in the idea that he was momenterily blinded by desperation to not trigger all of his battle memories. And he didn't want to trigger them because once again he feels he has to be "Robin Hood" and keep all of those memories out of mind. (This of course comes from his monologue in the barn). Some of you may say it is a far fetched idea but I do actually think it is in character. Of course if you do find this explanation a little too complex please tell me in the comments and I will work on the explanation. (It is not uncommon fo me to have an idea that makes perfect sense in my head but then not be able to express it well enough for others.)

I also hope that my writting style is clear enough. I'm actually much better at script writting than novel writting, and so I write out all of the dialogue with stage directions first and then go back over and fill in the blanks. Because of this I tend to put the plot explanations in the dialogue rather than the narraration (not so much in this chapter however), and a lot of the time my chapters are a lot more "straight to the point" than they probably should be. It could be however that this style of writting gives me an advantage because of course this is a TV series fandom rather than a book fandom and so I'm more likely to write like the original scripts (I'll leave that up to you lot to decide however). I'd also love to hear feedback on whether I've got the character voices correct.

As always thank you for reading and for all of the comments I've got so far (they really are encoraging to write more). I do read and act upon all constructive critisms aswell.