Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

A/N: Well, I will be getting my Harry Potter book tomorrow at midnight :D As such, I will be unable to write anything until I finish it, which probably won't take longer than a day, but the weekends are my most productive writing time, and I'll lose some of that because of reading. As always, thank you much for reading and enjoy!

Chapter 10

"Drink this."

Will accepted the small cup from Djaq and sniffed the contents, wrinkling his nose at the rank smell. "This smells like rotten vegetables."

"And it probably tastes like them too," Djaq returned. "But it will help with the headache and the pain."

"It won't help my stomach." But they had been questioning the three conscious hostages for awhile, and Will felt awful. Anything that would stop the pounding rhythm in his head would be welcome, so Will choked down the thick liquid, nearly gagging. Djaq wasn't joking. This had to taste worse than vegetables rotting in the sun for a week. His stomach rebelled for a moment, threatening to purge everything he'd just swallowed and then some, and Will had to press his lips together and draw in a few slow, deep breaths before the nausea passed.

After he finished, Will set the cup aside and glanced over at Djaq. She was currently mashing something else together in another cup, and Will wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know what exactly it was. After she finished, Djaq knelt down next to him and dipped her finger in the thin paste before dabbing it along the cuts she'd made near his eyes.

"This will keep it from becoming infected," she explained, though it never occurred to Will to question what she was doing. He trusted Djaq.

The paste was cool on his skin, and it felt good. Will couldn't help but admire Djaq's knowledge, and he often wondered how she'd come to learn all the different uses for plants. There were things he wouldn't even consider anything more than a green leaf, but Djaq could list ten different ways that particular leaf would be useful. And he loved that about her – the fact that she was clever and resourceful. He'd seen his share of competent, capable women, Lady Marian being one of them. But there was something different about Djaq, something that made her special to him. He would never see Lady Marian the way he saw Djaq. Yet despite everything Will knew Djaq was capable of, he sometimes found himself absurdly wanting to take care of her, which he realized she would never accept. She didn't rely on other people, and she certainly didn't expect special treatment because she was a woman. She'd made that clear from the beginning. She was one of them, but that was all part of what made Djaq … well, Djaq. It took a strong person – man or woman – to live the life they did, and he admired her all the more for it.

Djaq sat back on her heels, watching him expectantly. "Does it help?"

Will nodded. "Yes, thank you." His head actually was feeling a good bit better as the pounding retreated to a subtle kind of tapping inside his skull. That, at least, he could tolerate. He glanced over at the friar and the others currently tied up. "What do you make of them?" This entire situation was cause for serious concern. As if it wasn't bad enough they had to worry about the Sheriff and Gisborne, now they had Prince John after them. Not to mention Will wasn't thrilled he'd let the girl Sarah play on his sympathies and catch him off guard. He'd made a grave error in judgment there, and it could've cost his friends far more than it did. As it was, Will had no idea what had happened at Knighton after he left, if the Sheriff caught Allan, if Marian and Edward had been arrested, or if something worse all together had occurred.

Djaq shook her head. "I am not sure. I do not think the friar wishes to harm us any longer."

Will agreed with that assessment. Friar Tuck seemed genuine, and he had smacked David over the head when the man held Djaq at the tip of a knife, a thought that made Will's blood run cold just as anger swelled in his chest. He didn't know the man Tuck called David of Doncaster, but he hated him.

"You are all right, aren't you?" Will asked.

Djaq frowned at him.

"After the knife bit," Will clarified.

"Of course I am all right," Djaq replied, giving him a strange look. "He did not hurt me." Djaq sighed as she stood. "I wish they would come back. I do not like waiting."

But they did not have to wait much longer. As if on cue, Robin, Much, and Little John returned only minutes after Djaq mentioned her dislike for waiting. Much was left to tend to the horses as Robin and Little John joined Will and Djaq. From the expressions on their faces, it didn't take a genius to figure things at Knighton had not gone well.

"Gisborne left a messenger for me. Marian, Edward, and Allan were taken to Nottingham. And they know Marian is the Nightwatchman," Robin announced unceremoniously, summing up the severity of the situation in a few quick words.

Djaq and Will stared at Robin, letting the reality of how bad things really were to sink in. Not only did they have Marian and Edward, but Allan as well. When Will didn't return, Allan must've done what he could, but one man wasn't a match for all the soldiers the Sheriff brought with him. And Will couldn't help but place the blame for it on himself. If he hadn't been so naïve where Sarah was concerned, maybe he could've prevented this somehow. It wasn't realistic, and a part of him understood that, but still … if he hadn't been so stupid, so willing to help someone who he thought at the time had just tried to rob him, well then, maybe things wouldn't be this bad.

As Robin glanced over his shoulder, waiting for Much to join them, Djaq surprised Will by saying, "You cannot blame yourself. We will figure something out."

He hadn't said a word, but she seemed to read his thoughts as clearly as if he had spoken them. Any other time, Will might have considered that promising if he was ever going to tell Djaq how he felt – the fact she paid enough attention to understand what he was thinking or feeling when he hadn't even opened his mouth. But right now, concern for his friends consumed him, especially Allan. Edward and Marian would require a trial, of that Will was certain. The Sheriff would want to make that kind of example out of them for the other nobles to see, but he would do it carefully because of their status. So Edward and Marian had more time. Allan wouldn't be so lucky. He was one of Robin's men – he could be hanged as quickly as the Sheriff strung up Tom-a-Dale and his companions. Besides, Allan didn't know the meaning of the word tact. His mouth would get him into trouble far quicker than if he stayed silent. But this was Allan. He had something to say about everything.

"We know the Sheriff will have increased security," Robin said as Much joined them. "We know he will be waiting for us. Every turn at the castle will be a trap."

And that was the blunt truth of the situation. Will would never say their stints inside Nottingham Castle had been easy or without danger of being caught, but it never seemed as impossible as it did at this moment. The Sheriff and Gisborne would be prepared for a rescue attempt. That was what they expected and that was what they wanted.

"You can be sure they will search anyone entering Nottingham," Djaq said, voicing the certainty that they could not simply pull up their hoods or use a distraction to enter as they had in the past. They would suspect something like that.

Will hated the silence that followed. Everyone was thinking hard about the situation at hand, about how they could sneak undetected into Nottingham, rescue three prisoners, and escape unscathed. But the silence stretched on.

Will tossed aside ideas in his head left and right. That one was too obvious. That one would never work. That one was suicidal. And Will figured the same thoughts were racing through everyone else's mind, compounded by the worry and fear that their luck against the Sheriff had run its course.

He knew this because the silence was deafening.

Guy of Gisborne waited silently before the Sheriff's desk with his arms folded. He had been summoned and had arrived nearly ten minutes earlier. The Sheriff had yet to acknowledge his arrival as he poured over his correspondence. But this was nothing unusual. Gisborne was always kept waiting, and with any other man, Gisborne would've made his impatience clear. But as a lord without land, Gisborne's fortunes were precarious at best. Locksley was his only so long as he retained his position by the Sheriff's side. If he slipped, he would fall far and he would fall quickly. Over the years, Gisborne had worked too hard and licked too many boot heels to lose that position.

At the moment, one of the few things Sir Guy of Gisborne lacked was a wife, a lady who would ensure his place in noble society. For the past couple of months, he assumed that wife would be Lady Marian, a respected young woman of noble birth who not only had the advantage of being physically desirable but she was also the woman Robin Hood loved. Through Marian, the pieces of his life would've fallen into place, the puzzle complete. But in the end, Gisborne realized he'd misjudged her. He knew Marian had a soft heart. He knew she sympathized with the poor more than any noble should. But ultimately, those qualities had been valuable to him because they tempered his own harsh views concerning the peasant population – the farmers, the carpenters, the blacksmiths, and so on. Her kind and gentle spirit balanced his own indifference to the woes of the less fortunate and his desire and willingness to take any steps necessary to ensure his place in the world.

Marian suited him, complemented him, and made him whole. But she had betrayed him. Her sympathies for the poor had run far deeper than Gisborne could've fathomed. As the Nightwatchman, she'd made a fool of him, but as Lady Marian, she'd made and absolute mockery of him. She'd run off with Hood because she'd never stopped loving him. For that alone he'd have his revenge. It was only a matter of time before Hood and his friends concocted some scheme to save the prisoners. It was only a matter of time before the valiant hero went riding to the rescue. But he would find that the guard in Nottingham Castle had been tripled. There was a constant watch outside the dungeon.

Robin Hood's luck was about to run out, and Gisborne would be waiting there when it did.

"Ah, Gisborne, about time," the Sheriff said, looking up from his letters as if Gisborne had just entered the room instead of standing there for nearly a half hour now.

"You wanted to see me, my lord?" Gisborne asked.

"Has there been any sign of Hood yet?"

"No, nothing," Gisborne replied.

The Sheriff looked annoyed, impatient. "Hmm, strange, don't you think, Gisborne? I wonder what's taking him so long. It isn't like him to wait, especially considering we have his precious Marian. This is all a bit boring, just waiting." The Sheriff drummed his fingers on the desk as a slow, gleeful smile widened his lips. "I know I did say we'd wait until tomorrow. But I'm up for a spot of torture before dinner. I really hate sitting around with nothing to do."

Marian stepped down from the carriage. Her dainty and impractical slippers sank into the puddles of mud and rain, the muck seeping through the fabric and chilling her to the bone. She stood still, staring at the open chapel doors ahead of her. She would rather see a funeral pyre at the end of the aisle than the inevitable fate that awaited her. Flipping back the delicate white veil that concealed her face, Marian lifted her face to the gray sky, letting the icy pellets wash away the tears.

It was her wedding day, and it should have been a day of happiness and celebration. It should have been a day when she could look into her husband's eyes and see her future. Instead, the inclement weather mirrored her heart. She was not marrying the man she loved. The man she loved had left to fight a war in a foreign land, a decision that ultimately brought her to this cold fate. As she remembered the last kiss they shared – the last desperate moment when she realized she could not change his mind and he seemed to realize he might be losing her forever – the old sickness washed over her, dragging her down. The fatigue and melancholy seized her. She felt the familiar sensation that she was merely a shadow moving listlessly amongst the living. In her mind, she could never see him whole. She saw him injured or dead. She saw him drowned in a storm at sea. She saw herself laying flowers and mourning over an empty grave, his body lost to the shifting sands of a desert world she would never see.

"Marian, please! Quit dallying. Your gown will be ruined."

At the sound of her mother's brisk, no nonsense voice – the ever practical voice of her conscience – Marian lowered her face. Her dreams of the future were shattered, and she was not a little girl anymore. Decisions were made not for what she wanted but for what must be done. Love was a forgotten memory, a girl's hopeless fantasy.

Marian moved forward. With each step, she sank further into the mud, but she pushed on. If she failed, they would hurt her father. And she'd promised her mother … so long ago she'd promised. She'd take care of her father.

But he is your father. He can take care of himself. He doesn't need you coddling him, protecting him as if he were weak and incapable.

Marian shoved the thought away, the frivolous voice that told her to run where her heart led her. That was the voice of the girl she'd been, the one who hadn't known loss or betrayal or duty.

At last, Marian reached the chapel steps. Relief swept through her for a moment, until she stepped through the doors. The rain outside suddenly stopped and the brilliant liquid gold of the summer sun shimmered through the intricate stained glass windows, casting a myriad of colors along the wooden pews and smooth stone floor. Marian's breath caught in her chest and she felt as if she were being smothered as she looked down the aisle. Her husband-to-be stood with his back to her, but the black leather was all too familiar.

"No," Marian whispered, shaking her head. This was all wrong.

Run.

"You look beautiful, my daughter." Marian started as her father took her arm in his. "As beautiful as your mother looked the day we wed. I only wish she could be here now."

"I do not wish to marry him," Marian whispered. "Please, do not make me. My heart belongs to another. You know this, but you will not let me go to him."

"Do not make me your excuse. You are an intelligent girl, a daughter I am so very proud of. You make your own choices, and you made this choice."

As they took a simultaneous step forward, Marian glanced ahead. She was not surprised to see the empty pews now filled with spectators, all standing and all solemnly watching her as if they were bearing witness to a funeral procession, not a wedding. She could no longer see the leather clad bridegroom.

"I cannot do this!" Marian hissed.

"You agreed to marry him. You cannot agree to something like that and simply change your mind. Until death do you part, there is no taking it back."

"I never said yes before God," Marian argued. "We are not one until death, not yet. Please, let me go. I do not love him!"

"Then you should have run when you had the chance."

They took another two steps forward, though Marian attempted to pry her arm loose. But it was to no avail. Edward's grip on her arm was as binding as an iron shackle. Desperate, Marian dug her heels into the floor, but no matter what she did, they kept moving forward, on inexorable step at a time. They passed through the rows of people, some she recognized and some she did not.

As Marian and her father neared the altar, the only man she wanted to see finally came forward from the first pew, but he looked different. Edward faded into the background as she met Robin. Marian was accustomed to the endearingly untidy hair, the rough shadow of a beard that always darkened his jaw, and the peasant clothing that suited him better for a life in the forest. Instead, he appeared very much as he had before he left for the Holy Land. His clothing was clean, and the fabric was fine – the attire of a noble. His face was shaven, and his hair was shorter, neater. Oddly enough, Marian realized she'd become fonder of the rogue outlaw than the charming nobleman.

"Robin." And in that word there was a wealth of emotion – a prayer, a vow, and an unspoken pledge of her love and devotion when she could not simply say how she felt. Other words failed her, but his name did not.

Carefully, he lifted her veil. His thumb smoothed away a tear that had unknowingly slipped from her lashes, and she knew his touch, found comfort and strength from such an innocent caress. They were one; they always had been. But they'd made mistakes, and they'd hurt each other.

"Take me with you," Marian said. "Please."

"I cannot," Robin replied, his words cutting through the security she felt at his nearness. "You made your choice. You chose him."

"I never chose him. How could you think that? I was forced to answer under duress. I had to protect my father. But I never chose him."

"Everything we do is a choice." Marian felt Robin's hand slip to her waist, both trying to pull her closer and push her away. "You are bleeding. Marian?"

The panic in his voice startled her, and Marian looked down at his hand. It was covered with blood. The unnatural growing flow of crimson soaked through the white fabric of Marian's dress until it began to puddle on the floor between them. Her wound burned. She looked back at Robin, but Robin wasn't standing there anymore.

It was Gisborne.

Her eyes moved from his black gaze to the small, bloody blade in his hand. "I hope you liked the wedding gift. I thought it was fitting."

Marian awoke with a jolt, Robin's name on her lips.

"I hate to disappoint a lady, but I'm not Robin. He's running a bit late - rude of him, if you ask me."

On the opposite side of the cell, Marian recognized one of Robin's men seated on the floor, leaning back against the cell bars with his arms folded.

"I think they stitched you again," he said. "So, uh, you feel all right then?"

Marian glanced down at the spot of dried blood staining the fabric of her dress. The wound ached, but it did not really feel any worse than it had, which Marian could only count as a good thing – the one tiny positive in a sea of negative.

"So they did not catch Robin?" Marian asked.

"Catch him? Well, he wasn't around to be caught."

As Marian gathered her thoughts and reassured herself that all hope was not lost, she studied the man across from her. He'd obviously put up a fight on her behalf, or else he wouldn't be here. And she hated thinking of him as one of Robin's men, so she forced herself to think for a moment so she could put a name to a face she'd seen plenty of times before.

Allan. That was his name. Allan-a-Dale – the poacher and the liar. The Sheriff had hung his brother not so long ago.

Marian glanced about at the empty prison surrounding them. "Where is my father?"

"Oh, I'm fine by the way, thanks for asking."

And Marian mentally kicked herself for being so callous. She could've taken a moment to thank him before worrying about everything else. After all, it wasn't as though he were taking a holiday inside the dungeons. He was here because of her. "I am glad you were not hurt. And thank you. You risked your life for mine. I will not forget that."

Allan cleared his throat and glanced away, avoiding her gaze as if he hadn't actually expected her to respond, at least not seriously anyway. "I don't know where they've put Sir Edward."

At that moment, they heard the main door to the dungeon open, and the Sheriff's humming announced his arrival before they saw him. He was limping slightly, but that hardly seemed to dampen his mood. Four guards followed him. Apparently, the Sheriff wasn't taking any chances this time.

"Oh good, you're awake," the Sheriff said when his gaze fell on Marian. "I was so hoping you wouldn't have to miss the show."

Marian wasn't quite sure what the Sheriff was talking about, but Allan seemed to understand as he stood. "Not bein' funny, but I thought you said the torture wasn't until tomorrow."

"Hmm, yes, well, I lied. But I suppose you can thank your good friend Robin Hood for this. If he'd decided to show up sooner, I wouldn't be bored. And if I wasn't bored, I wouldn't be thinking about torturing you right now."

A/N: The strange dream sequence can be blamed on a few things. I haven't slept much this past week, I like strange dream sequences for some reason, I couldn't seem to write Marian's reintroduction to the story any other way, and I was watching the Princess Bride the other day (one of my all time favorite books/movies), and Buttercup's dream wedding sequence kind of inspired that part :D

Many thanks to … Charmed luver222 … Thank you so much! Glad you're enjoying it … Marian66 … Thank you! Glad you liked it. And I do hope that was a rumor … Capt. Cow … As always, thank you bunches and bunches! I'm just praying that info was wrong. I can't figure why they'd wait so long. I was thinking more like March 08, like they aired it in March this year. Still, that's entirely too long of a wait! … scully42 … Thank you so much! I like dark and dangerous Robin too. I'm so happy to hear I was able to correctly capture that part of him :) … Threll … Thank you so much! I'm so glad you enjoyed the part with Allan. I didn't want that whole distrust to play out too much longer. I had that scene in my head with Robin being given the tag back when Gisborne caught Allan. It was nice to finally get it out of my head and into the story :) … DeanParker … lol, thanks much for the review! I hope you enjoy the bit of Will and Djaq in this chapter … KitsuneLauz … Thank you much for the review! I hope you'll get the chance to read it all, but I realize that can be a time consuming thing. I'm glad you enjoyed the Will and Djaq moment … auzziewitch … Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying it … Boys Don't Cry … well, hey, at least I've met my in law quota for the next few months :) Thank you much for the review! I'm glad you enjoyed it … MontyPythonFan … As always, thank you! Robin does always find his way through the most difficult of situations, doesn't he? … Brennan on the Moor … Thank you so much for the kind words! They are much appreciated! It always makes me smile to hear I've done justice for these characters because they are brilliant characters, and I live in fear of screwing them up somehow. Well, many wishes for a safe and fun holiday. Again, thank you … Kalli J. Wolfram … Thanks so much! I'm so glad to hear you're enjoying it :)