Another quick chapter here, with a rough edit. Love reading all the reviews that keep coming in. I've answered/responded to a few of you already about some questions you've had, and liked to thank everyone for taking the time to review. It really does inspire me to want to write more.

Hope you enjoy! Don't forget to review!! :D

Chapter Ten: Fading Hope

It was a nauseating feeling; the guilt that tore at him was unimaginable. Will worked his way quickly out of the castle, but the more he distanced himself, the closer the feelings came. He was coward…there was no other way to put it.

He hadn't forced Robin along, due to fear of pushing him too far too soon. Instead of brandishing his weapon and fighting hand to hand he had allowed Robin to be taken. Instead of going to his aid he hidden in the shadows; the screams and cries still plagued his memories.

Will knew he would never be free of the grief he felt; he would always carry the blame with him till the end of his days. Things would be even worse if Robin didn't make it…

Nearly outside he paused; the thought hadn't occurred to him until now, and it cut straight through to his heart. Perhaps that statement wasn't entirely true; he supposed it had crossed his mind, but he hadn't taken the time to think about it. Not until now, at least.

What would happen then? Would the group hold together, would they stay strong? Or would all the blame rest on him, as it should? No doubt he would be cast away, forgotten, exiled maybe. Will closed his eyes, shaking his head. He was already playing this as if Robin had been assigned a death sentence, and all at his own hands. If they were going to get through this, and get Robin out, he needed to keep his head clear, and set his fears aside.

He met up with Alan back where he had left him, taking off the helmet for the first time since putting it on. "Surprised to see you still here."

"I can follow an order," Allan responded with a shrug. "Besides, I didn't want it be my head getting cut off. What did you find?"

"He's alive," Will told him quietly, motioning for him to walk.

"Where is he?"

"The dungeons; Gisborne's holding him prisoner."

"Well we got to get him out; you know what they'll do to him."

Will nodded, "I know." They already have, he thought drearily. "We have other problems as well. We need to find the others, and quickly."

The fire burned low, crackling as it licked at the last few logs on the pile. It gave little warmth, but it was the light they all sought after. The group wasn't hard to find; in fact they nearly ran into each. The departure of the two hadn't been as quiet as Will had thought.

The news of Robin's survival stirred a mixture of reactions. From joy to worry, and hope that quickly turned into the criticism that Will had expected. He didn't blame them, nor did he try to defend himself against the curses and accusations. He still blamed himself, and hardly noticed Allan voicing reasons for Will's decision.

There was no argument, of course. They would go back for Robin; and the sooner the better. The how was still uncertain; everyone had different ideas, but attempting any such mission without Robin's guidance would be tricky. The last time they had tried, it had ended in a miserable failure. Will knew, better than anyone here, that a failure could cost Robin his life.

Will hadn't brought up Robin's condition yet. It wasn't an easy thing to explain, but he knew he would have to, in order to avoid not only shock, but possible complications that would arise during the rescue attempt. Unsure of how to begin, he turned instead to the matter of the English Lord.

No one took great interest in it, their worry and concern for Robin and only Robin. But Will refused to turn away; he had given Robin his word that he would do what he could; and it was word he wasn't willing to turn away from. Finally, with Djaq's help, Will was finally able to explain all he knew to listening ears.

Silence hung in the air around them as Will finished the last of his words, hands clasped together, resting on his knees. He hadn't bothered changing, knowing he would be returning to the castle soon. And he was quite sure that worn tired faces staring back at him matched his own complexion.

"What does a Lord signing his lands over have anything to do with the Sheriff gaining more power?" Allan wondered.

"The more lands he has, the more people. The more people, the more taxes," Will explained quietly.

"The more taxes, the more money spent on gaining power," Djaq finished. "Robin is right; we must stop him, but how?"

"Well I don't care if we stop him. Robin is my Master, he is your leader, for all of you. He comes first!"

Will sympathized with the other man. Much was closer to Robin than any of them, and the news of his survival, though it had brought him much joy, had also brought much anguish and desperation. If it hadn't been for the others, Much would already be storming the castle single-handedly.

"We get Robin out," Little John agreed.

The others nodded in agreement. Will could already see their minds had been made up. He was thankful, if not grateful; but he couldn't deny the frusteration that lingered inside of him. Robin was right about Barlow, but so was Much about tending to their own men before others.

"We will have to do both at the same time then," Will told them quietly. "If Lord Barlow signs, there is no telling what could possibly happen. If we leave Robin, we may not get him back alive."

"How can we do both at the same time?" Djaq asked.

Another moment of silence passed before Will sighed. "I've spoken with Lord Barlow before; I believe that he trusts me, and would listen if I asked. I will find him. We will need someone to get Robin out; and of course an escape route. We will only have one chance at this."

"I will go," Much said quickly. "I will get Robin out."

"No," Will shook his head. "We need strength, that's why I want you to go John. And Allan, we need quick hands. Gisborne's carrying the key with him. It's the only way you'll get Robin out. Djaq and Much…I need you two to get us all out. We need horses."

"What if he does not come with you? What if he tells the Sheriff you are working for Robin?"

The concern was clear in Djaq's voice, her gaze meeting with Will's.

"I will be able to get back out."

"And with Robin fighting, we shouldn't have any problems either."

Will took in a deep breath, closing his eyes. He hadn't thought about what to tell them, or how, but he knew that he had too.

"He may not be able."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Much demanded quickly, his attention now focused solely on Will. "Of course he can fight! Can't he?"

"He's hurt," Will stated quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, "pretty bad. I don't know how much strength he has left."

"You shouldn't have left him there!" Much cried, "I wouldn't have. He wouldn't have left you!"

"I would have gotten him out if I could," Will said quickly, moving to his feet, "but I can't. That's why I came back for help."

"You just want to save this…this English Lord. You don't care about Robin; he would be here if you did!"

"That's not true," Will cried. "I was the one who went to the castle; I was the one who found him. I was there when they captured him, and I was there when they…when they…"

He shook his sadly, sitting back down. He couldn't finish it, couldn't say those words. The memory was still too fresh in his mind. Will pressed his face into his hands, closing his eyes, trying to banish them away. A hand touched his shoulder gently, and he turned to meet Djaq's gaze.

"You are not a failure Will Scarlet; we will get him out," she said quietly, as though she knew the troubles that plagued him.

Will let out the breath he had been holding, nodding at her statement. They would get him out, they had to. "We go tonight."

The heavy breaths echoed throughout the dungeons, laced with the pain that the victim could clearly feel. For the other prisoners who resided there, the entire ordeal had been stomach churning. Punishments were never held out to such a degree, and the man had suffered deeply. Whatever his crime had been, must had been severe in order to obtain such a whipping.

But there was new information that had filtered down into the dungeons. The talk of a hanging. Whispers were made between the cells for those who dared to speak, and they all knew in their hearts who would be leaving the very next morning at first light. If the beaten, broken prisoner had heard their words, he showed no interest.

Maybe it was a curse, or maybe it was a blessing. For though death was the end of this life, it was also the end of the pain one was enduring. And the pain, they all knew, was great in the lone man's case. They had listed to his quiet cries, and mummer of words that lingered in his cell until they had died down into the pained breaths that were now filling the darkness.

But night was nearly over now, and dawn was coming closer with each moment. The time would come, as they knew, as it always did when the guards would enter with shackles, and single, plain hood. The man would see one last glimpse of the sky, of the freedom that was so close, and yet too far away to properly taste, before everything would come to an end.

At the top the stairs, the door opened, and the soft gray colors of the early morning sky flooded in, signaling that the time had come.

TBC