Author note: feel free to hate me because I know I've done it again, I'm late once more updating and I feel crap for it, but you know, I really didn't want to publish some of the crap I've been writing since my last update. Today I sat down, looked at the screen thinking 'gawd, I've got to work with that tripe again' because there is nothing worse for writers block than trying to work with a piece of text you've written that you don't really like. So, to deal with this I scrapped everything I had previously written for chapter eleven and wrote this, weeks of writers block coming out in very many hours of writing. Thank god for Wednesdays is all I can say, because I wouldn't have been able to do this were it not my day off. So here we go, a fresh and pretty long chapter eleven. Hope you like it. x

Chapter eleven

Baxter mansion

My ears prickled as I thought I heard something move behind me, reacting instinctively I quickly reached out for George, who was leading the way ahead of me, and pulled him back into the shadows with me, our backs pressed against the wall in an effort to stay hidden. I was well aware that I was more jumpy than usual, my senses had gone into overdrive the second we had exited John's van and my heart beat was accelerated far beyond its normal rate. But, as I stared out into the darkness of the corridor where George and I hid, scanning the area with incredible precision for even the slightest sign of movement, I knew that it wasn't without justification, going into the mansion at any time was near enough life threatening but to do so now, with supposedly upped security and in near complete darkness (which worked both with and against us) was especially dangerous. I didn't want to be the one responsible for George being found out, I'd been working too hard over these past few weeks and doing so many loathsome tasks that if I did cause it through some stupid mistake of my own I would likely kill someone, Adam probably. Also, there was far too much at stake here, the potential amount that we could bring in tonight would be invaluable to our dwindling funds and the struggling people of the Southside, who once again stood not too far away from the winter months, with their rising gas prices and regarded them with open dread. We couldn't be caught, we couldn't fail and I wasn't about to let anyone down.

I should have guessed that all was fine when George didn't tense or look worried when I grabbed him; this was the second time since we had entered the mansion that I had stopped him, thinking that I had heard something. George's hearing was superior to even mine, largely more keen and much more accurate, if George couldn't hear anything then there was nothing there to hear. Mark had speculated about this more than once, why some of us were better at certain things than others, he guessed that in George's case it was because George had always been a good listener and that that had been amplified upon the change, or whatever it was we went through the night we had the dream. His theory made sense to me, knowing George as I now did I had no problem believing that he was a good listener, a few months ago I would have scoffed at the idea, but now I knew him better and I could see that that was probably true. However, that brought me back to wondering about why it was that George had yet to hear Adam in my room, because with his hearing he ought to have been able to, other than the obvious reason that he was asleep during the visits, I had decided, firmly, that whoever had said that we only hear what we want to hear must have known what they were talking about.

George did not look worried, at least from what I could make out in almost no light, if anything I thought that he was smiling at my overreaction, which annoyed me somewhat, I wasn't doing this to be cute or endearing (two words that would never fit comfortably in a description of me) I was doing it because it was necessary to be careful. Irritated and deciding that there was nothing following us, this time, I removed my left arm from where it was across George's chest, creating a barrier from everything else and pinning him to the wall. Unlike me, George seemed to be thrilled by the prospect of braking into the mansion, I didn't know if it was for the good we were going to do, the actual excitement of it or because it was a chance the stick the two fingers up at his dad, I didn't know, but George was almost at ease here and it seemed that failure had not crossed his mind. Weird, I know. It's all very roles reversed since I'm usually the reckless one (though this is hardly reckless) and George is usually the cautious one, the conclusion I had drawn from this was that we had internally aged about thirty years or so, and that I had mellowed in my old age and that George was experiencing a midlife crisis. That wasn't to say that I wasn't enjoying myself, I loved the thrill of sneaking around, experiencing potential danger and having a bit of action in my life as much as the next outlaw, my heart was still racing and I was filled with the kind of euphoria and adrenaline that you can only get in these situations, it was brilliant. But there was still far too much at stake here.

Still grinning George watched me as I folded my arms across my chest and frowned, irritated by his lack of worry, and waiting for him to carry on leading the way. This was one of the many reasons that we, as a group, liked having George in the gang, in addition to being a nice guy and having a good sense of humour (which you need to have around us lot) he knew the Baxter mansion like the back of his hand and could get us in, around and out relatively easily, though he couldn't predict where the guards would be stationed or when any changes would be made. I, obviously appreciated George's presence for additional reasons, but that's a thought for another time. Half laughing at my obvious annoyance, half wanting to quell it, George lent in gave me a sweet kiss on the lips and offered me a dazzling smile, that even in the dark you couldn't help but admire. I felt my resolve wavering but didn't show it, I kept my arms folded and gave him a small smile in return, which it turns out was all he needed, as he grinned at me and carried on sneaking down the corridor. I followed suit, coming to a stop behind George when he reached the end of the corridor, looked both left and right to make sure the coast was clear before turning left and carrying on. For good measure I checked over my shoulder once more, gripping my bow tightly as I did so, however all I could see behind me was darkness and so I headed after George, unable to shake my unease and guessing it was just because I was in the Baxter mansion, and how things never seemed to end well when I did come here.

We had gotten into the mansion without any trouble, we followed the same routine as last night with only a few minor changes as a result of the article in the Enquirer, for example we had attached one of Mark's remote control devices to a lamppost out on the road that led to the Baxter mansion and from where John would pick us up. should we encounter any problems while inside, in addition to Jack and Will coming to our aid, should we make it outside Mark would flick the switch and blow the fuses of every streetlight down the road, plunging it into darkness and meaning that we, with our improved vision, could get away and so anyone chasing us couldn't see us. but other than that we had made few changes other than to be even more alert, Baxter wasn't here but if the Enquirer was to be believed he had instructed for his security to be upped but there was no way that we could improve our strategy for sneaking in if we didn't know what we were up against, we were just going to have to wing it. Which I appreciated since it would mean that we wouldn't have to wait any longer and we could get the money tonight, therefore getting it to those who needed it sooner; however it also might have contributed to my worry.

Once the guard had been distracted George and I had kept to the shadows of the mansion's grounds, hiding from the dog wielding guards who patrolled the grounds every hour, until we reached the window that lead to George's old room, which I was so used to having to sneak into by now that I had shot the rope-clad arrow into the support beam easily and was up on the balcony in next to no time. A fact that had amused George. It had felt odd, really odd to be standing in George's bedroom and not to be angry at him, it had been weird standing there and thinking about how much had changed in such a small space of time. George, thinking along the same lines as me, had grabbed my hand and squeezed it gently, flashing me another one of his gorgeous smiles, which of course I had returned. Knowing that time was short George and I had then hurried out of his old room and under Mark's instruction, because George couldn't remember exactly where it was, we had located the nearest security camera, attached a scrambler to the side of it (in order to do which George had had to give me a leg up, since annoyingly I wasn't tall enough) and since they all ran on the same circuit all the camera's in the mansion had been rendered useless. There was no telling though, what other security measures Baxter had put in place, perhaps lasers like in his office, I had mused before thinking about our imposters again and how they must have been skilled to get through all of Baxter's defences at the offices, he had upped them since the last time we had broken in there.

And that was where we were now, walking the darkened halls of Baxter mansion, wondering where all the security guards he was supposed to have employed were, George had suggested that they were all on the lower level of the house, in the rooms that had lights on inside them which we had spotted when sneaking across the grounds. It seemed stupid to me, for all the security staff to stick together in one area, it was surely one massive security flaw, but then again, it must have been boring patrolling the corridors of somewhere that it was supposed to be impossible to break into, and besides that, Baxter's staff weren't famed for their intelligence. George and I made the most of the absent security staff, B.A and squad members and had covered a fair bit of ground since entering the building.

"How much further?" Mark, who couldn't see anything since we didn't see the point in turning on the surveillance camera on our headpieces when we didn't need him to tell us where to go, asked.

Since I didn't know the answer to that question I waited for George to reply, I had been wondering the exact same thing for a while now and was glad of Mark's timing, as I was sure had I asked the question I would have sounded like a whiney four year old.

"It's just at the end of this corridor," George whispered in reply and I just about restrained a sigh of relief, I had been beginning to wonder if we were ever going to make it there, but it seemed Baxter had merely hidden his home office deep within his home for security purposes.

"Let me know when your inside, John's getting scared by the woods again." Mark said and I felt a wide smile spread across my face when I head John's outraged (though clearly shaken) 'I am not' in the background.

Beside my George let out a quiet laugh before whispering that we'd let Mark know and carrying on down the corridor. Once again I stopped to look over my shoulder imagining my right hand throbbing against my bow as I did so, it had been doing that ever since we had left Sherwood not even two hours ago, I thought irritably. There was nothing behind us so I snuck after George noiselessly, trying to ignore how my hand felt like I'd just punched someone, the reminder of which had my anger building rapidly, which, considering where I was and what I was doing was a very bad thing. I knew that I had to get a handle on my mounting rage but I knew as soon as the memory popped into my head that I didn't stand a chance. The cycle was never ending.

Just as the other outlaws and I were heading down the stairs and out the door of Sherwood, about to drive around for a while to throw off anyone that might be following us tonight, when Adam walked out of Jacobs' office. The dark haired devil spawn had clapped eyes on us and grinned smugly, though I couldn't see why he had any right to do so, especially considering the state of his face. I hadn't felt guilty, not in the slightest as I took in Adam's bruised cheek and swollen nose, every injury I had inflicted upon him last night had been deserved and it gave me a kind of sick satisfaction to see that I had left a mark. Serves you right, I had thought as I glared at him from halfway down the stairs, I had to walk around with unexplained hand marks around my neck for a few weeks, see how you like it. I then averted my eyes from him, not wanting to talk to the loathsome creature any more, I wouldn't have put it past him to make some kind of cryptic comment about tomorrow night in front of everyone and that was the very last thing I needed. No one said anything, me and my friends just carried on moving with hard and stony faces whilst Adam watched us go with a smug, self-satisfied look on his face. As much as I wanted to yell some abuse at Adam I didn't, a mark of my improving maturity I think, and we were almost out when something, or rather someone, had to go and spoil it.

"Who hit you, Stuart?" Will had suddenly asked snidely, causing me to freeze where I stood momentarily before whipping around, sensing a confrontation and wishing that I could be the one to instigate it but knowing why I couldn't "Because they've done what I've been itching to do for about a year now and I'd like to shake their hand for it."

I had been aware of my friends standing around me, positioning themselves to show open hostility and to show how they backed up not only me but Will's words as well. Will was standing on one side of me, George, who was grinding his teeth, on the other side, behind us stood the tall, burly and very impressive John and standing next to Will but ever so slightly back, was Jack, who was by no means any less intimidating than any of the others. I had been grateful of their support but rendered it unnecessary, Adam had been working for Jacubs for weeks now and other than the occasional snide remark hadn't done anything to any of us, well at least not the others and not publically. Besides, if Adam was stupid enough to make an outright threat on George now or to so much as bring up last night and our secret meetings, which definitely didn't sound good whichever way you sliced them, I wouldn't need any help in kicking his arse. Gawd knew I was angry enough for it.

Adam had met my gaze for a moment, that smug grin still in place and causing me to scowl, he had then quickly looked back at Will so that the glance was barely detectable and not likely to be picked up on "If you think I look bad, Scarlett," Adam sneered Will's last name just as my friend had sneered his before "you should see what I'm going to do to the person that did this to me," Will made a doubtful noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, meanwhile Adam met my gaze meaningfully and I shot him a look that said, quite plainly, bring it on then, if Adam thought I was afraid of what he could do to me physically then he had another thing coming. Adam had looked untroubled by my gaze however and carried on speaking "it might be educational for you to watch that anyway, because if you're as eager to do to me what you claim you've been wanting to do it looks like you need instruction, since despite provocation and ample opportunities, you have yet to make good of that promise. What's wrong, did Robin not want her lapdog to get himself in over his head, she prefer to keep you and Peter Perfect where she can see you?"

Something had snapped in Will at that moment and he had started forward towards Adam, his expression furious as he cursed angrily at Adam, fortunately Jack restrained him before he could reach a snickering Adam. Though Will fought her with every ounce of strength he had, desperate to get to the man that had caused me so much pain (a lot of which he didn't know about) and make good of his threats, Jack didn't let go of him though, as he struggled she pulled on his arms and started to forcefully drag him away from Adam. Beside me I had felt George tense and as the hallway erupted with shouting, laughing and struggling I grabbed hold of George's arm, pulling him back as he look a menacing step forward. I knew George well enough that unlike Will, who was a ticking time bomb and gave a warning before his outbursts, George went deadly silent when he was maddened with rage and George had been waiting for a legitimate excuse to hit Adam for a while. If only he knew.

"Don't George." I had said glaring at Adam as I tugged on George's arm, Adam only smirked, loving the trouble he was causing. I wanted to be the one to wipe that smile of his face; I silently finished my sentence and just about kept from thumping Adam myself.

"I've already made good of that threat, you worthless piece of scum," Will had shouted as John went to help Jack in restraining him, though Jack seemed to be doing alright on her own, her face a mask of determination but her eyes still soft with worry "or have you forgotten what happened when I saw you cheating on her?" Will said and I remembered the state Will had been in after confronting Adam about messing around behind my back and the blood stain on his shirt when he told me about the fight, Adam's blood.

"Believe me when I say, that that isn't an experience I am likely to forget." Adam had said his voice heavy and his meaning clear, he wasn't talking about the fight he had had with Will, but rather the act that had caused it.

Revulsion coursed through me and a new wave of hate for the man who had been standing before me then, I had hated him so much but I knew that right now there was nothing that I could do about it. That comment seemed to be the last straw for George who tried to shrug off my grip to no avail, I wasn't going to let him put himself in danger, no chance no way, oh I had no doubt that George could kick Adam's arse, but I was more concerned about what Adam would do after George had done that, or more specifically who he would go running to. That was the reason why I didn't let George do what he so desperately wanted to do, that was why I didn't show Adam how mad I really was or let my anger take over me though I was practically shaking with it.

"Piss off, Adam," I had said simply, tugging on George's arm as I sensed Jack, John and Mark helping to lead Will outside and away from Adam, I wanted to leave now, to get away from temptation because right now I didn't trust myself not to just unleash George on Adam and help him to kick his arse.

Adam met my gaze, still looking all superior "is that the worst you can do, Robin?" he'd asked me, igniting my fury anew since I could tell from his expression what he meant by that, he was had been taunting me, telling me that he knew why I wasn't giving him a piece of my mind (and my fist) and that that was because he had the upper hand, because if I did he would hand over George to Baxter and he would win. I had glared at Adam for a moment, reminding myself over and over why I couldn't just go over there and give him a matching bruise on the other cheek, then I unfroze, pulled a still fuming George across the entrance hall and met Adam's gaze as I said,

"Not even close."

I had then pulled George out into the garden, leaving him to calm down as I closed the door behind us; we had all then climbed into the van, tension, rage and annoyance rife in the air around us, choking us for the majority of the drive. Everyone had calmed down though, and right now it seemed that everyone had forgotten about it, everyone but me. I had been quite proud of myself to be honest, normally I wouldn't have been able to restrain the kind of rage but I had done today but I suppose that was because I had the incentive to do so, forcing me to get over my short fuse. Once again back in the present moment I noticed just how tight I was holding my bow, even in the darkness it was clear that the tension there had drained all the blood from my hands, they glowed a pasty white and I was in danger of snapping my bow. Swapping it over to my left hand so that I could shake out my right and get the circulation going again, I took a few deep calming breaths, as advised by my anger management councillor at Locksdale Upper, and tried to level out my temper before following after George, who had gotten quite a way down the corridor while I was checking behind me. Jogging noiselessly down the corridor I was by his side in an instant, once again I checked over my shoulder just in case anyone was there and then looked forward with George, who was approaching the office door.

"It'll be locked," George reminded me as he reached the door, he tried it just to be sure and sure enough the handle only dipped so far.

"On it," I said as I pulled my lock picking kit from my utility belt, recently Will (the master craftsman) had been teaching me how to lock pick, it had been going well and this newly acquired knowledge was the only reason that Will didn't have to be here too. Walking around George I peered through my mask at the lock in front of me and bended down to the right height, using two picks I placed them both inside the lock and jiggled them about, alternating their angles until I found the right alignment that would have fit the key. This took a few minutes, since I wasn't as skilled as Will, George waited behind me patiently and I couldn't suppress the feeling of satisfaction I got when I heard the clicking sound of the door unlocking. Smiling broadly I pushed myself back to my feet and turned to face George as I put away my equipment, George, who was grinning at me proudly, nodded in the direction of the door before saying,

"After you,"

I nodded my conformation before reaching out with a gloved hand and opening the office door, I paused for a moment, waiting for something to jump out at me or for an alarm to go off, this didn't happen but despite that I didn't go into the room just yet. Surveying the doorway, ceiling and room its self for the tell tale green glow of lasers I decided that there was nothing else to check for and if the room was rigged with extra security measures then I couldn't see them and we only had a limited amount of time before the B.A arrived. With that in mind I stepped into the office and when nothing additional happened I crossed the room towards Baxter's desk speaking into my mic as I did so,

"We're in," I told Mark as George quietly closed the office door behind us and followed me to his father's desk and bent down beside it, searching for the hollow compartment where the spare key to the safe was hidden.

"Good," Mark said his words accompanied by the sound of his fingers hitting the keys of his laptop "the area is still secure and I haven't heard anything bad from Jack and Will, I don't know what else is happening inside the mansion though, so you two will need to be quick."

"Will do," George said as I turned from surveying the office, it was pretty Baxter standard, big desk, leather, a high backed chair for him, a hard wooden chair for any visitor, locked filing cabinets, one potted plant, absolutely no personal decoration what so ever, no picture of George no image of a family outing, no nothing. Despite how I had expected as much from the heartless tyrant, it still irritated me how little he cared for George.

I watched as George located the hollow compartment in the desk, opening it gently from underneath, his fingers carefully pulling underneath the small wooden door until it opened. Reaching inside George pulled out a small key, which even in the darkness I could tell was silver in colour, George grinned at the small key in his hand before shutting the small wooden door and getting to his feet. I raised my eyebrows in respect as I watched this, even though it killed me, I had to admit that Baxter was pretty darn smart; he didn't do things by half and was very skilled at hiding his underhanded dealings and anything that might be considered important, it was a shame for him that we were just as skilled. George passed me as he headed towards the beautifully crafted fireplace, clearly made out of pristine white marble the fireplace was nothing short of exquisite from gilded grate the marble finish, exactly the sort of thing you'd expect from Baxter. I lent against the desk as George approached it, knowing that there was nothing for me to be doing right now, George was the one who was going to try and open it, I was only to keep watch. I wasn't doing a very good job of that though to be honest, resting with my back against the thick, polished wooden desk and consequently with my back to the door, I watched as George bent down in front of the fireplace and inspected it for a moment, a look of endearing concentration crossing his face as he tried to remember what his father had done.

Tentatively George reached out a leather-clad hand and brushed the top of the electric fireplace its self, his gloved fingers grazing the black metal as he ran them along it, sliding his fingers down the side of the fireplace George's eyes twinkled and his mouth spilt open into a wide grin as he found something. Apparently pushing a button of some kind George pulled his fingers away from the black metal just as the electric fire let out a hissing sound before sliding to the side, missing the white marble by mere centimetres, and letting out a shwooshing sound and revealing a black safe door, complete with keypad. The loud noises echoed brutally in the silent room, startled and alert I turned to face door, an arrow poised in my bow just in case anyone had heard the sounds and was coming to investigate. Neither George nor I moved for a moment, I stood there, my body twisted so that I was facing the door and my fingers grazing my bowstring ready to release it if anyone walked in. No one did, an after a few minutes of waiting I lowered my bow, arrow still inside it, ready and waiting just like it had been since we exited the van, returning to my original position, though considerably more vigilant now. I nodded at George telling him to continue, he returned the motion before gulping, his Adams Apple bobbing in his throat as he did so, and turning back to face the safe door, he knew just as well as I did how pressed for time we were and was trying to be quick about it, though he still had to be thorough as well.

I flicked my fringe out of my eyes as I lent against the table, my heart still even more frantic than it had been earlier thanks to the noise the fireplace had made and I watched as George pulled a slip of paper from his pocket and looked down at the numbers written there. I knew straight away that this was the piece of paper we had written down all the possible combinations for Baxter's safe that we could think of, and I waited expectantly as George reached forward and typed in the first code, zero, nine, zero, six, six, eight, Baxter's birthday. George pulled his finger away and waited for a second before the safe let out a sharp, angry beep, causing us both the jump at the volume of it and telling us that that wasn't the right code. George quickly looked up in the direction of me and the door, at the same time I tightened my grip on my bow and stared over my shoulder, ready to react at a moments notice. We gave it another moment before moving again and when it became apparent that no one had heard the noise George turned back to the safe saying,

"I'll try my mum's next," in a quiet voice, in which I detected a hint of sadness at the mention of his mum, I desperately wanted to comfort him right then, but I knew that I couldn't and remained fixed where I stood, staring at the door just in case anyone had indeed heard the beep, and tying to ignore the tugging on my heartstrings.

I waited as George typed in the next code and flinched yet again as the safe let out a sharp beat, telling us that we had guessed wrong yet again, this wasn't going well, I thought as I kept my gaze locked on door and narrowed my eyes at it, waiting for someone to burst in though mercifully they didn't. I flexed my fingers on my bow as George let out a exasperated sigh and, I assumed, went to type in the third combination, our last hope, generally with these ( like cash machines etc) you got three chances before lock down and then that was it, no more guessing, I didn't know which one of our combinations George had left until last, but I hoped it was a good one, it would be a complete waste of time and effort for us to go through all of this and still not get the money.

"Bingo," George whispered as a slight click echoed through the room, I turned around to face him, letting out a sigh of relief as I saw him reach towards the safe, turn the handle and open it effortlessly.

"Which one was it?" I asked him, leaning against the desk again and feeling relief wash over me in waves; we might just be able to do this yet.

"The one that Mark came up with," George said quietly, his gratefulness and happiness evident in his voice and greatly contagious, I grinned, silently praising my genius friend for thinking of the numerical spelling of Baxter.

"I'm not one to say I told you so," Mark said in our ears having heard our conversation, I laughed a little when I heard Jack and Will groaning irritably into their own mics "but…" Mark said drawing out the word, clearly pleased to have been right, yet again.

"But you told us so," I finished for him in a hushed tone, proud of him too.

"Yup," Mark said into my ear piece.

"Great work Mark," George whispered "that was genius; we should be out soon now."

"Good," Mark said, his words accompanied by the sound of typing once more "because I don't know how much longer Luck is going to let you go without being spotted."

"Duly noted," I said with a nod of my head, though obviously he couldn't see it.

"We won't be long, bag?" George asked as he turned to face me, smiling at our success and eager to carry on with it. I retuned his smile as I reached up and pulled the rucksack from over my shoulder, taking in gently over my quiver of arrows and balling it up so that I could throw it to George. I tossed the bag to George, who caught it effortlessly and turned to start putting money inside, unfortunately though, the motion of doing just that had me swinging my elbows and upon returning my right arm back to my side I managed to knock over a neatly stacked pile of papers on Baxter's desk.

"Crap," I muttered as they spilled onto the floor, scattering about messily. George looked up, his hand hovering inside the safe he looked unsure about whether or not to come and help me, I motioned for him to carry on grabbing the cash and bent down the hastily clear up my mess.

Cursing myself for my old clumsiness, which apparently I couldn't even fully escape as Robin Hood, I grabbed the sheets of paper and stacked them together quickly, deciding that it would allow me to get the job done quicker if I could use both my hands I place my bow down by my side and went back to picking up papers. Just as I went to pick up the last few papers I noticed something else lying on the floor, judging by its haphazard placement it too had fallen off the desk with the papers, putting the last sheets on my pile I reached for it. The object was a black book, a diary by the looks of it, pulling it towards me I let my curiosity get the better of me and stared at it for a moment before flicking to this week's page, the chance of looking through Baxter's datebook was something too big to just pass up. I was vaguely aware of hearing George zipping up the rucksack and the sound of the safe as it clicked shut and the electric fire slid back in place, signalling that George was finished and that we needed to get going. I didn't move however, I just stared down at the datebook and the appointment that was written on today's date 'Richard, 12 o'clock, London'.

I sensed George bending down beside me to read over my shoulder, I remained frozen on the floor as he did that, trying to digest what this meant, because I knew, just knew that it was important. Beside me I felt George stiffen, confirming my suspicions, slowly I turned to look at him; he met my questioning gaze with a confused one of his own.

"I don't understand," he said quietly as he stared down at the writing on the page "that can't be right, but this is my father's datebook." He said speaking more to himself than me as he tried to make sense of this.

"What is it George?" I asked him, though past experiences and my gut feeling were giving me a good guess of what this meant.

Still frowning George turned to look at me "my uncle's name is Richard, the writing here is informal so clearly it means that my father is meeting with him, but it doesn't make sense, they haven't spoken in years, not since Uncle Richard bet my father for a position in parliament, he hates him now more than he ever did since Richard has progressed a lot since then."

It clicked then, everything clicked and fell into place and I could have kicked myself for how obvious it was and how I should have figured it out earlier "wait," I said wanting to make sure I understood and wasn't wrong here "you mean that you're uncle and Baxter's brother, is Richard Baxter, Deputy Prime Minster?" and next in line for the job when our current Prime Minster resigned next month, though I didn't need to add that, it was implied.

George nodded the affirmative and I rolled my eyes at my own stupidity "of course," I said as a feeling of dread rose in my body "of course this is it, how could I have been such an idiot?"

"I guess we know where my father went now, to London to meet with my uncle…" George trailed off as what I had thought of occurred to him too "you don't think that this is it…that just like in the legends…?" George asked as the horrific thought registered in his mind, of what all of this meant and just how bad this was.

"That Baxter wants to usurp his brother's position?" I asked as dread, horror and determination filled me, this was beyond bad, this was terrible, it was a disaster if Baxter was about to follow the legends and try and take over from his brother then not only would he be able to abuse Locksdale and get away with it, but the whole country too. There was absolutely no way that I could let that happen, but what could I possibly do to stop it? "It seems pretty likely to me."

George and I shared a horrified look before promptly springing into action; I grabbed hold of the pile of papers and clutched the diary in my hand, setting all of them back on the table I then re-opened the diary, frantically flicking through the pages for more information, George by my side.

"What exactly are we looking for?" George asked me as he stared at the diary pages.

"Another meeting, a campaigning date, anything that looks like Baxter might be planning to overthrow his brother's position," I said as I continued to flick through the diary with no success, there didn't seem to be anything else related the Richard or parliament and that didn't do anything to calm me, I wanted to know what I was up against here and was still kicking myself for taking this long to figure it out, I should have known from the beginning that he would be planning something like this, maybe that's what my trip to the 'past' was all about, a warning. Subconsciously I raised my hand to brush the scar, caused by a sword wound and still there, clear as day across my bow shaped mark, the only solid proof of my trip and something I had been avoiding thinking about. Could it have been real?

"You think it's that serious?" George asked me, stress evident in his voice.

"I have no reason to believe that I isn't," I said as I continued to flick, considerably more disheartened now, since it didn't look like we would be getting anything more from this book, and now I had a feeling that I couldn't hide from this time travel stuff any longer, sooner than I had hoped, I was going to have to tell the others about what I think had happened then. Running my hand through my hair in agitation as stress built up inside me, I reached the end of the diary and closed it, feeling like everything was starting to overwhelm me, as if I needed something else to worry about.

"I don't think we're going to get anything else from that," I said with a sigh "we could look through the rest of the papers but it'll take a while." I suggested as I reached for the stack of papers I had just returned to the desk, startling when George's hand shot out and stopped me.

"Robin," he said, his voice having a new edge to it, he sounded like he was genuinely frightened "look," he said, nodding in the direction of the wall opposite us, the same one with the door on it, though that wasn't what he was looking at. Stomach dropping as I did so, I followed his gaze and felt my eyes widen when I spotted what he was looking at, in the far corner was a small CCTV camera its little red light blinking furiously. Crap. It must have been on a separate circuit.

"What is it?" Mark, who had been silent throughout our conversation, seemingly too shocked for words, asked.

"A problem," I said as George let go of my arm so that he could hitch up the rucksack of money and I quickly bent down to retrieve my bow, repositioned the arrow and straightened up.

"We've got a camera, most likely on a separate circuit to the others." George told Mark before turning to me, I nodded at him and dashed towards the door with him hot on my heels.

"Do you have company?" Mark asked, typing and clicking frantically though I didn't know what he'd be able to do from his computer to help us.

"Not yet," I said quietly "but who knows how long it's been since they spotted us, or even if they have yet."

"Right," Mark said, clearly worried as I opened the door a crack and stared out into the empty corridor, checking that it was safe before silently stepping out onto it, George followed me "make your way back to George's old room,"

"Right," George whispered by my side as we crept back down the corridor twice as vigilant as before now there was a chance they were looking for us.

"Mark," Jack, having made her way into the grounds with Will as per the changed plan, whispered into her mic "they're searching the mansion, all the lights are being switched one by one."

"Okay, Jack, Will, get yourselves to that window, we've got a problem." Mark said just as George and I turned off the corridor where Baxter's home office was, crap, crap, crap, I thought as we implemented silent running and I followed George down the hallways, they were searching the mansion; it would only be so long before we spotted one of them.

"Right," Jack said just as Will whispered,

"Okay,"

"Robin, George, you need to get a move on, they'll be upon you any minute, we can see the lights on the top floor from where the van's parked." Mark said, telling us that he was parked out on the street now and not just warning us.

Neither George nor I replied as we ran through the still darkened corridors of the mansion, fearing that any noise we might make would cause them to find us that much sooner. I followed George, checking over my shoulder every now and again as he led me through the maze of corridors, the journey taking less time now what with our frantic running. It was just as I was checking over my shoulder again, just as I had done on the way in, when I saw the light on the corridor we had just turned off switch on, crap, crap, they were almost here.

"George!" I hissed when the sound of footsteps met with my ears, fearing that we were going to be spotted I darted forwards, grabbed George's arm and quickly pulled him down another corridor to my right just as the light in the corridor we had been on just seconds before switched on, illuminating everything in there.

George gave me a grateful look before carrying on running down this new corridor, which thankfully seemed to be the right one a few minutes later, and not a second too soon, we were closing the door behind us in George's old bedroom and dashing across the darkened room towards the balcony. Breathing heavily I slid open the glass door and stepped out into the cool night air, freezing when I spotted torches moving around the darkened grounds and the sound of barking dogs reached my ears.

"Bloody hell," I breathed thinking it would be a miracle if we got out of here.

"Robin," I desperate sounding voice bellow me hissed, cautiously I approached the edge of the balcony with George right behind me, looking down into the darkness I spotted two figures I recognised as Will and Jack standing just below us. "Throw it down," Will said, meaning the rucksack.

George stepped around me and did as suggested, there was the sound of Will or Jack catching the rucksack and then George turned back to me, gesturing towards the rope I shook my head and motioned for him to go first but I knew that we weren't exactly in a position to argue since we didn't have the time, and when he gestured again and said,

"Go, Robin," I didn't think twice about doing as asked.

I let go of the rope at the bottom, relieved to be landing on the soft earth but knowing that we weren't out of the woods yet, beside me stood Will and Jack, Jack had the rucksack thrown over her shoulder and all of us turned expectantly to look up at the balcony, waiting for George to come down so that we could leave. I was about to call out to him to see what was taking so long when a dark ball was thrown off of the balcony. Confused I picked up the things that George had thrown down, which upon closer inspection appeared to be his mask wrapped up inside his hoodie, my heart dropped down to my stomach painfully, he wouldn't.

"Get out of here, I'll distract them long enough for you all to get away, I'll tell them that you ran towards the south wall and you can leave trough the main gates, they communicate via walkie-talkies so they'll send everyone in the direction I tell them to. Just get running now I'm going to call them in here." George said, talking into his mic from upstairs in his old room.

"Okay George," Mark said in my ear, I pulled an outraged face and shook my head.

"No," I whisper shouted from where we hid in the shadows "there's still time for you to climb down and get away too, they wont believe you if you say you're innocent, you have no reason to even be in the mansion at this time. It won't work George, just come down the rope."

"If I don't send them all in the wrong direction then no one is getting out, don't overreact Robin, I'll be fine." George insisted trying to reassure me though it didn't work.

"No, I'm not overreacting, I just refuse to let you get caught, now get your backside down here right now and leave with us." I instructed him, ignoring how Will and Jack looked at me and how Mark and John could hear as well, I wasn't leaving him here, not now.

"Will, please," George said and the meaning of his words registered with me too late as Will stepped forward and grabbed hold of my arm, trying to pull me away from the balcony and the rope I was seriously considering re-climbing just so I could go up there and drag him down.

"Let go," I hissed at Will as I struggled to get out of his grasp and he pulled me away from the mansion and towards the shadows of the walls we were going to use as cover "I wont let you do this, George."

"Robin, I'll be fine, just go with them," George said watching me trying to fight Will off but having no success since I was slowly becoming an emotional wreck, curtsy of nightmares in which George died, Adam's threats and the frightening concept of what George was going to do. They wouldn't believe him, I just knew that they wouldn't, he would going to be found out.

"Come on, Robin," Will coaxed as we started moving down the shadows and forcing me to look away from George for a split second to look at him "George knows what he's doing." But he doesn't, I thought miserably, he doesn't, he hasn't seen what I have, continuing to struggle I turned back to face the balcony just in time to catch a last glimpse of George before he dashed back into the room, presumably to meet the B.A members searching the house.

"George," I called before Will slipped his hand over my mouth, I swear, I was so mad with him right then that it took every ounce of my self control not to bite his hand like I wanted to.

"He can't hear you, Robin," Mark told me "he's taken out his ear piece."

That knowledge did nothing to make me feel any better, nothing at all and I still fought with Will as he dragged me further and further away from the balcony and George, not even the slight of all the torches heading towards the south wall made me feel any better. I struggled with Will, fought the urge to cry but eventually gave up, knowing that there was nothing I could do right now and hating that fact with every fibre of my being, I knew mentally that George might not have been in any actual danger, he was very charismatic and when he spoke he often had everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. I also knew that there was more important things to be contending with, like Baxter's possible plan to usurp his brother's position, but emotionally I couldn't comprehend any of this, to me right then George was the most important thing, and he was in danger. Jack, hurrying along beside us, shot me a sympathetic look, I guessed that she was thinking about what she would do if she were in my shoes right now, for her expression I guessed that it wouldn't be too different. I was vaguely aware of us passing through the gates of Baxter mansion and only really started to focus on other things again when we reached where the van was parked. Mark threw open the back doors and Jack jumped in with the money while Will guided me in, half expecting me to shake free of him and sprint back up to George, and I would have done, if I had had the energy for it.

The van doors closed behind us and Mark rushed back to his computer, tapping a single key and plunging the road into darkness, John started the van and dove away quickly. We all sat in silence, the bag of money laying off on its own and all of us thinking, feeling almost numb now and totally drained I looked at the back of van even though there was no window there and I could see nothing but the inside of the door, thinking of George. Furious I clenched my fists so tightly that my nails were digging sharply into my palm and I was sure that they would probably leave a mark, scowling I turned away from the doors and spotted the ball of George's things on the floor on the van, watching him throw them over the balcony over and over again in my mind. Why did he have to be so bloody noble? George's perfection was going to be the death of him and there was nothing I could do about it. Rocking when the van went over a particularly large pothole, alerting me to the fact that we were back in the Southside, I fought back angry, pained tears and tried my best to imagine an outcome where the B.A believed George's story.

Author note: so, there it was, what do you reckon? Please let me know what you think to this, I'm dying to know, the end was a very last second idea, does it show? Thanks for reading and reviewing, much love to you! :) x