A/N::: You guys rock! Thanks for the help on that fight scene! (Virtual high fives all around) I do tend to under-use fighters' names. Hehe. It's a paranoia thing. Paranoia runs in the family; you should've seen my aunt when me cousins and I went "fun-yaking" (a.k.a kayaking w/out the net to keep you strapped in the boat. so you can't drown). 'Twas only Level 1 rapids, but my dad and brother still managed to tip over. Ah, good times. Yes, but my life's boring, so get on to the story and enjoy!

Will was crouching low in the bushes of Sherwood. John was to his left, the fingers of his right hand locked around a quarterstaff. Beside the giant, Robin was slowly setting an arrow to the bowstring, steady hawk-eyes focused on the deer before them. A sword hung from his belt, as it had ever since news of Gisbourne had reached them. But despite the hindrance, he quietly gained his footing and drew backwards, muscles tense with the strain of pulling a Welsh longbow. All was silent as the archer took deliberate aim. The forest held its magical breath, wondering if Robin Hood would miss a target for the first time.

The bowstring snapped forward, forcing the captive arrow into motion.

"Oh, goodness! He hit it! You never hit anything, Rob!," Will snapped, fully enjoying his own sarcasm. After making sure he had a grin from both Robin and John, he cut off the high-pitched voice and whistled in admiration. "Seriously, though, that fat thing will feed the new lot we have in camp for at least a sennight."

"God help us if it doesn't," Robin agreed, stepping over the bushes and heading towards their latest illegal prize.

Will frowned, biting at the side of his lip. "We'd be better off if we didn't waste too much of the hunt feeding the Whitby wench."

Robin shut his eyes and set his teeth. Don't yell; He's been on the edge all sennight. You know he hates her. "Will," he began quietly, "she's only one bloody person." Slight slip of the temper there, Rob. Calm down. "It can't make that much difference." He shrugged dismissively, hoping the subject would fade.

"It's been a sennight! And we still have no word or sight of Gisbourne or his men. Why should we feed the liar?"

Well, this one's not going to fade, I can see. Robin quietly hefted the deer onto his shoulders. "There has been gossip in the taverns lately of Gisbourne's arrival. He won't attack with that talk about. He will wait until it dies down."

Will snorted. "I can think of something else that should DIE."

"Ever heard of the fifth commandment?"

"Why shouldn't we kill her, Rob? Don't you remember what she DID to you?"

"Do you know what Gisbourne will DO to everyone in camp?"

Will tightened his fists. "Should he even come, I can promise that the bloodthirsty man won't make it as far as camp!"

Robin shrugged dismissively, keeping his voice nonchalant. "You will not leave camp if he comes."

Will started forward, exasperation crackling into the familiar anger. "Excuse me?"

"I won't see you killed because I was too scared to face Gisbourne." Robin could not bring himself to make eye contact. If he met Will's eyes, it would be obvious that he was too scared to face Gisbourne.

"YOU?" Will's voice was the mocking one he used for bullying, and it nearly made Robin cringe. "YOU?" He laughed mockingly. "YOU face Gisbourne? Not while I'm alive!"

Robin felt his face flush, but he kept his voice quiet and calm. "Bounty hunters go after the leader. That's who they're paid to kill. If he kills me, or even if he captures me, he won't go after the camp!"

"And what if he's being paid to take the whole lot of us? Gisbourne will recognize me, Rob, and you know the money my father is offering for my return to Norwell."

Robin paused, fighting the retort he wanted to give. No one knows better than I do. The sheriff of Nottingham didn't try and make anyone else tell him if you were here. But he was silent and crouched to put the deer down. Please leave this alone, he begged silently. But Will was standing with his legs spread apart, arms crossed, and an expectant eyebrow cocked. As usual, he showed no signs of backing down. Has he ever? Robin quietly turned to the deer, as if there were something to be done with it. "Then--- well, then, I'll just have to make sure I'm taken alive. He'll have to take me to Nottingham right then and there so I don't escape, and he will leave you all alone."

"ALIVE?" Will's mouth dropped open. "ALIVE? Rob, do you really want to be taken ALIVE to Nottingham?"

Robin's head snapped around. "Of course I don't! But I'd rather face the dungeons than watch that mad knight carve the camp apart!"

"And I would rather face Gisbourne than listen to you screaming for mercy at the hands of Nottingham! We all would!"

"Will, one life is not worth sacrificing dozens!" His arms flew into the air. "Good God, be reasonable!"

"Be reasonable? You can barely hold a sword upright, simpleton! And you expect to face England's best knight? What in God's name did you hit your thick head on?!"

Robin jumped to his feet and strode towards his cousin. "I won't have you fighting my battles for me!" he snapped, forcing himself to make eye contact. He wouldn't admit what he was thinking – I won't have you die.

"Why not? I have to defend you often enough around that bloody fop of a lute-player!"

"If you could just keep your nose out of things that don't concern you--"

"Doesn't concern me? You're my bloody cousin, Rob! Bonds of blood? Ever heard of them? We're supposed to protect our family!"

"That is what I'm damn well going to do! Gisbourne isn't coming near you or anyone else in camp!" Robin's finger went to his chest like the sword he knew would soon be planted there. "He'll kill me and only me!"

Will punched his cousin, snarling with the fury he could never suppress. That stubborn, self-righteous little mongrel! The guilt he usually felt when he lost it was gone, and he sneered when Robin staggered backwards. "Weakling!" he cried, leaning forward to rub his superior height in Robin's face. "You can't even take a blow! And you expect to take on Gisbourne?"

Robin charged forward to punch Will in the stomach. I'll kill him. I'll strangle him. I'll…But Will grabbed him by both shoulders and literally threw him across the clearing. The resulting impact with a rock nearly broke his skull, and arrows of lightning pounded against his eyelids. But the pain only fed that anger inside him that Will had set off. "Ha!" His cousin's voice laughed at him across the clearing. "You scrawny, witless, ugly, little wretch!" Will started towards him, and he readied himself to land another punch once the taller man got close enough. But John stepped between the both of them, glaring dangerously.

Will snarled at him, noticing that Nan was also there, wrapped in disapproval. So the giant went to find the other hunt for reinforcements. I was wondering why he didn't knock me out when I hit Robin. Nan was glaring ferociously at him, but John's scowl was fixed on Robin, who was trying to find a way to get at his cousin. "Will, stop losing your temper," Nan snapped, crossing her arms.

"What? Does Robin need a maid fighting his battles for him, now?"

Robin ducked under the giant's arm, finally free to attack, but Nan held him back with a warning glare. He paused, dark fury in his eyes as he considered diving at Will anyways. He wasn't used to this sort of anger, this helpless need to hit something, someone – Good God, he just wanted to land his fist in Will's eye. But there was Nan, the insistent frown on her face. Bloody conscience.He reluctantly took a step backward and accepted the temporary peace.

Nan was utterly shocked. She was somewhat sure the two cousins had never been as angry with each other as they were now, but she had definitely never seen Robin lose his temper this way. It frightened her, seeing him like he was. He and Will wore clenched fists and set jaws, and both furious expressions were quaking with the suppressed need to punch the other. The two pairs of dark eyes were locked together, hard and sharp with fury.

"Will," Nan barked, "you and John head back to camp with the deer, and Rob and I will continue the hunt. Understood?" A stubborn silence burnt the air between the two cousins as they stared each other down. She sighed in exasperation and stepped between them. Like some furious hen she pointed her sharp finger at Will, whom she was facing. "Get your arse back to camp and cool that bloody temper." He waited a moment, as if considering rebellion, but then he turned sharply on his heel and stalked from the clearing, John following behind him.

"Rob, come with me, you stubborn arse," Nan snapped, but the mulish streak in Robin kept shooting arrows from his pupils at Will. "ROBIN!" she snapped, and he turned to her, the anger still running through his blood. God, was Will really so dense?

He and Nan made their slow progress through the greenery in silence; she thought it best to leave him with his thoughts. Robin was grateful for the courtesy, since he had a lot of steam to shoot out his ears. God knew he loved Will like a brother, but the man had a temper like the fires of Damnation! And he was so bloody impossible! So stubborn and pigheaded and full of himself! Who was he to preach like that? What did he know about guilt? What did he know about responsibility? Robin pulled at his hair in frustration. God, what an ass his cousin could be!

Nan smirked sidelong at her friend. He was beginning to feel guilty about losing his temper; she knew by the slow way his fingers eased from their present course. But some sort of injustice obviously took him again, for he attacked his hair with all the more ferocity that moment, practically lifting himself from the ground.

"Rob, you shouldn't have lost your temper," she muttered, and he sighed, shoulders slumping. "I know," was the quiet reply. She smiled, pleased with the reply, but then he groaned, letting his arms drop sloppily. "Oh, God, I know."

He turned despairing eyes to her and she lifted a corner of her mouth in consolation. But it was such empty consolation. Her eyes dropped guiltily to the ground when he tried to return her smile. "Rob," she began softly, "even I think Marian is lying." She brought an apologetic smile back from the ground to his face. "You can't blame Will for doing the same as the rest of us."

Robin started, and opened his mouth to correct her. They had hardly been arguing over the truth in Marian! But then he thought better of it, knowing she would probably say the same as Will had.

"I – I suppose we should suspect Marian," he agreed, shrugging.

Nan's smile faded a bit as Robin stopped to re-string his bow. She did not like the wince that came with every mention of Marian; it worried her. She did not like the indifference in Marian's face when she looked at Robin. She did not like the hatred in Will's eyes when he stared at their hostage. She did not like the sadness in her own heart when she saw the lines in Robin's face.

She did not love Robin; she knew that. But she did worry for him. They had lived near one another since childhood, and everyone had expected them to wed. After all, they were of the same status and quite fond of one another. The entire shire had her so convinced of the perfection in the match that she had even been irritated with Robin for failing to ask.

But then she had seen the way he looked at Marian.

Lord, how could anyone have missed the smile that crossed him when she came? How could even the blind pass over the love, concern, and happiness that she brought out of him?

And how could she do that to him?

Robin was playing thoughtfully with the sole of his shoe, which flapped ridiculously now. Nan reached over to stop his fingers. "You ought to take them off if they irritate you so," she offered, shrugging. Robin smiled wryly in return. "My legs are cold without them on, and if Sara sees my bare legs she always starts shoving stew down my throat."

They both laughed quietly as he unbound the mismatched scraps of leather and wool that served as his shoes, muttering about obsessive Irish wenches. "Ah, well, let's hope that I can trust you not to do the same." Nan grinned and leaned against her bow, looking down at him as he arched a suspicious eyebrow from the ground, dropping his 'shoes' into his quiver. He was back to himself now, no longer the uncharacteristic fury he had driven himself to be. He and Nan went on, murmuring to one another about the best glades to look for deer and how very much the newest outlaw reminded them of one.

And then his head jerked upright. "That's it," he murmured. Nan watched in fascination as he stepped quietly towards the trees, leaving almost no trace of passage in his usual eerie manner. Not even a bloody leaf stirred beneath his feet. It was then and only then she could have mistaken her gangly childhood friend for the old god of England minstrels called him.

Robin could feel something wrong in Sherwood. He had not heard a thrush in over an hour, and they were infamous amongst the outlaws for their constant irritating twittering (Will had the peasants practice their slingshot aim on the little buggers). Still, the little brats did have their quiet days when travelers kept from the road, and Robin had thought this one of those, but that last screaming dunnock had really sent something up his spine.

If the birds were moving, so was whatever scared them. Boar, wolf pack, foresters traveling en masse…any of them could be the cause; they'd scared the birds witless before.

Completely abandoning any thought of Nan, he mounted the nearest oak and began his quick, deft ascent to its peak. He swung upward with the agility of an African ape, unaware of the fond way Nan watched his eerily clever ascent. It amused her to no end, the calm way his jumping nerves reacted to the great heights of Sherwood's king oaks.

But they reacted in terror to the minor twittering of Earth's insignificants. And the horrifying sight of something gleaming. Something metal and shaped like a human being. Why now? Robin dove down from the highest branch of the oak and perched lightly atop the uppermost limb of a smaller yew. His thin fingers danced nervously along the wooden support before he darted his way past five more ashes and dove through a half dozen rowans to reach the lookout's oak.

There was no one to scream when his quiet bare feet dropped lightly atop the platform. He had known something was wrong, but did it have to be a knight? Did it have to be Gis—Nay, nay. You don't know that it's Gisbourne. He peered through the foliage at their intruder.

The man's face was hard and cruel, nostrils flared. A blood thirst was rampant in every move of his agile body, and the dull gleam of his chain mail served as warning to even the most ferocious forest creature that this was not their fight. He had no evil in his natural features, but there was an eerie lack of compassion in the way he looked about him.

Robin trembled when he saw the ferocious knight's hand lock round the hilt of an even more fearful sword. The blade flashed in a single shard of Sherwood's sparing sunlight, sneering at the woodland's protected in its beauty and worth, then disappeared into the murky night of untamed forest. Oh, dear Heaven. Robin knew he had to get this man away from camp, he had to be taken, he had to…

"Come now, prince of thieves" the knight hissed to himself, sneering distastefully at his surroundings. "Come to me or I will come to them, the filth you protect." Robin quietly took his quiver from his back and silently laid his bow on the platform. He could kill Gisbourne with them now, but then... It dawned on him suddenly. He had spent so long protecting the band with trails and warning bird calls, hiding places and tree markings, watches and hunts….but the only real way to keep them safe, to be sure they would never come against the sheriff, was to be taken.

He had to face Gisbourne alone; he had to let the knight take him to Nottingham so that the sheriff would be satisfied and send no more bounty hunters. The sheriff would be content to let the woodland people live if he had Robin Hood. If he could take the man who had dared defy him, he would leave the followers to rot. The foresters would stop coming down so hard. Outlaws would be safe in Sherwood again. Robin did not want to be the sacrificial lamb, but it was his fault that Gisbourne was here. He couldn't be satisfied with simply surviving, could he? He had instead stupidly defied the sheriff, bishops, and lords – trying to rise above his own station like some idealist fed on minstrel song. And here was his punishment for it. He blew at his hair, trying so hard not to pity himself. Murderers were never meant to be happy.

"I know you hear me, beast of a man!" The knight's voice was echoing off the trees. "Come out now, coward! They say you know all the in the forest, that the very birds are loyal to you. Well what do the fowl tell you now? Haven't they told you Gisbourne is come for your head?" Nay, nay, nay. Good God, nay. "Face me, filth, or I can promise you that there will be none left for you to lead!!!" So there was his answer. It was Gisbourne, and no matter what excuses he had made to Will, the only way to keep the camp safe was to be taken.

"Robin," Allan whispered, scaring the outlaw leader so that he had to bite his lip against a yelp. Holy Saints.Recovering quickly, he turned to the minstrel with a thumping heart. "Good day, Allan," he whispered, "Now why are you here?"

"Nan came back to camp and mumbled something to Sara, that uncouth wench. And that Irish witch-woman demanded I come as a lookout, since you claim that there is something suspicious in the forest this morning." He drew in a sudden sharp breath, and the pale face sank to an almost sickly shade. "Is that Gisbourne?"

Robin sighed and turned to the minstrel. Allan's soft hands, only recently even made halfway firm, fiddled absently with a Grecian curl that had fallen loose of his leather band. His blue eyes waited expectantly for answer, and no matter what the man had said, Robin pitied him. That stupid naive little sing-song had no bloody idea what to do against a man like Gisbourne. Jesus Christ, it would be lamb to the wolf. He grabbed Allan's fair curls in his own scarred hands, and thrust the minstrel through the tree into the High Road. Run back to camp, Allan. Tell them I've gone mad. Tell them I've lost what was left of my mind. Tell them whatever you wish, but keep away from Gisbourne.

And then he took to the branches, tracking Gisbourne through the deep wood with the stealth and speed of a hunting- hawk. The knight was heading for camp, though it was unlikely he realized that. The man seemed only to be in search of Robin Hood.

And by all Hell, he would find him.

Robin dropped from the tree, terror and pain all capturing him as Gisbourne's predatory eyes did. Forgive me, Will. And then he sneered. "Come now, sir knight, was it really necessary to bellow? " He arched a mocking eyebrow, arms crossed. "We Sherwood folk have far superior manners. Heavens, I would do well to teach you some." He drew his own sword elegantly, as if it were not a cruder and smaller blade than that of his adversary, and leaned mockingly against a nearby tree. "And you'll learn from the best, sir knight." He winked. "You'll learn from Robin Hood."

Gisbourne charged, sword free before Robin's eyes caught the motion. The outlaw quickly sheathed his sword and tore towards the High Road, praying that Allan had fled by now and was halfway to camp.

As they neared the road, he turned his head round to grin wickedly at his deadly adversary. Angry men don't fight well. The knight was a hand's length taller than himself, and he wasn't even half so thin. If he doesn't lose his temper, I don't stand a chance in Hell. He was quaking with fear, if only in his mind. Oh, Lord, I don't stand a chance in Hell any way. This man was someone to be feared, not taunted. And so what was he doing? Taunting him, of course. Typical addle-pated lackwit. But in the least he was facing the monster alone. If he died, if he was taken, if he bled to death – not another soul would die. He smiled, knowing that for once he had done his job. He knew they were safe.

And then he backed straight into the trembling Allan.

Nay.He had been hoping to cut across the High Road without event. It would take Gisbourne even longer to find camp if he were on the wrong side of the road. But Allan had just made himself a bit of a roadblock.

"Run!" Robin screamed, shoving him viciously. "Run now, you fool!" The minstrel went to shake his head, trying so hard to be brave. Robin scowled at him. "Move now or---" He cried out as Gisbourne's sword sliced straight down his left side, leaving a red gash from chest to knee. Holy Jesus."I'll kill you," the knight hissed, drawing back his blade.

Allan froze in fear and horror as the knight's grin traveled from hunched Robin to land on him. The knight smirked and brought his sword forward. Allan gasped, backing up. He knew that he was going to be ill from the sight of Robin's blood on the sword. And then that nauseating weapon drew towards him and he knew that he was going to die.

"Get away from him!" Robin barked, whipping his futile sword across the knight's face, the only exposed part of the man's body. Vanity impugned, Gisbourne whirled around and began hacking furiously at the outlaw. Well, there's one way to make him angry. Something sharp made slicing contact with Robin's left arm and he swore. At this rate, he would be dead before he could---WHAM! The knight had taken full advantage of his opponent's pause and knocked him onto his back with a thrust of the pommel to his forehead.

Robin, who could feel his temple bleeding, felt ill with the swimming movements of his thoughts. Oh, saints, oh where am I? Oh what the---

Allan screamed as Gisbourne's sword hurtled towards his leader's head. "Robin! Robin!"

Holy Mary. Robin opened his eyes to find Gisbourne standing over him, sneering. Almost without thinking, he latched both hands around the knight's ankles and yanked hard. The confused Gisbourne could only watch angrily as his feet were yanked out from under him and he landed with a clank on his back.

"Run!" Robin cried again, scowling insistently at Allan as he released the fallen knight's ankles.

Praised be the saints, that fop finally found the strength to flee.

Robin limped with painful speed to his feet and grinned rakishly down at Gisbourne. "Ha! Awful manners AND slow?" He laughed mockingly and bowed obnoxiously low. "Come and catch me, Gisbourne!" With an insufferable salute, he darted further across the High Road, hearing the plod of heavy feet behind him. Let your temper win over. Come along, you monster; let the bloody anger take you. He whirled around to run backwards, still sneering despite the pain in his side. "So slow today, aren't we? The chase grows dull." He turned around, still moving, and sped up. A few more minutes and they'd be far enough away.

He heard the heavy tramp of Gisbourne's well-shod feet come closer behind him. Wincing from the Hell that was running, he let both eyes fall to his own bare and bleeding feet, and a branch tore the side of his face. At least we're off the road now…Hissing, he leapt onto the nearest tree branch and disappeared into the foliage. The knight appeared only a few moments later, panting from the exertion of a chase in chain mail. His sword was out, and the sight of it sent an actual bodily pain through Robin's heart. That weapon was made for slicing alone. His lean fingers went to the scars from Marian's sword. There was no wish to repeat that pain.

Gisbourne grinned wickedly. "Come now, outlaw, hiding are we?" He brandished his formidable sword again, and Robin gulped from his perch in the treetops. Slowly, he crept forward on the branch, own blade carefully sheathed. There was another limb from that nearby ash he could leap to, followed by a jump to the tallest bough in that birch, and then the lower perch on the oak beside that one—Robin smiled despite himself. He was a master of the forest, and he knew it.

"Why, Master Gisbourne! Still cannot find me, I see?" Robin swung onto the first branch of the ash and jumped onto the taller birch as he spoke. He was trying to calm down and play at Robin Hood, while the rational part of him wanted to dash across those trees with the speed he knew he could. "And you the best outlaw hunter in England! Pfft! I should like to see the worst!" He made it through two more trees as Gisbourne searched for the source of his voice. Where in creation were they? Were they far enough? He panted softly as he could, crouched in the greenery. Ach, it was an oak tree he hid in, dark scratches in a yew across the way, a broken rowan and three animal holes….

Ha! It was the Old Boar's Glade. Robin finally knew where they were when his fingers locked around the branch's white chalky marking. They were nearly thrice ten score rods from camp. Far enough to keep Will searching for a while. He fingered his old wounds again, wincing. God, he did not want to go down there. But he had to think of all the others in camp. If Gisbourne had him, he'd leave the camp alone. They would all be safe. A whimper of fear rose in his throat, but he locked a sweating hand round his cross. Christ, give me courage. He wished he had the cowardice in him to let Will face Gisbourne; he wanted the selfishness that would give Will's soul the murder that he was supposed to bear himself.

Then again, it could be a murder on Gisbourne's soul.

Don't think about that. Who gives a damn if you die anyways? That's right, you selfish fool – nobody. Drawing his sword, he jumped down from the tree.

He felt the painful bite of the knight's sword as soon as he was on his feet. Adrenaline tore through his veins like water, breaking his courage's mountain into runny mud. Darting aside from the sweeping metal, he knew that fear had just been redefined. Not even a moment to recover and he was bleeding again. Gisbourne smirked and broke his defenses effortlessly. After landing a useless blow on the impenetrable chain mail, Robin limped backward and tried to protect himself with the sword. But Gisbourne laughed at his feeble attempts. He laughed. Robin was good, but Gisbourne was the best.

Sara brought one of her daggers to my throat and scowled at me. "Well, Lady Marian, it appears you told us the truth. Now what is Gisbourne's plan?" She was not in the mood for games, so I quickly answered the question. "Gisbourne has the foresters coming up the High Road to capture all of you, and Robin once he's been defeat-" Sara forced the gag back inside my mouth. "You'll tell us more later," she snapped, tying my bind back in place. "We've no time to waste now. Get Robin off the hunt and back in camp." She knew all about Robin's irritating insecurity complex, and the sacrifice that was bound to come. Will and John, busy skinning a deer, looked worriedly at one another. "He isn't back yet?" Will snapped, eyes in a panic.

Allan came rushing into the glade, his blonde hair for once as untidy as everyone else's. "Robin's gone!" he cried, "I tried to stop him and bring him back to camp, but he threw me out of the tree and I ran! I –I saw a knight! He attacked Robin and they – they're gone!"

Will's chest stopped moving and his eyes went wide. But did I care? The imbecile was full of wind, anyways. Oh, I wanted to scream at him!!! Will, you addle-pated lummox! You bloody lackwit! I know where he's going! You know where he's going! He's going as far away from camp with Gisbourne, you and I both know that!

"Did he head across the High Road?" Will asked, sheathing his sword and grabbing a staff. My ears were roaring as Allan's petite mouth formed the answer. Robin was going to die. He was going to be murdered. We had to stop Gisbourne….we had to do something!

While Will and Allan were babbling, Sara was motioning for those in camp to arm themselves. They moved themselves slowly but doggedly. She stared at the dwindling numbers and the haggard expressions of her warriors. "We need help," she said. Will looked over at her and his face twisted. There was no time for help. Robin was going to be gutted before they could get any aid, much less any good aid.

"The peasants will help," Sara snapped suddenly, strapping on her belt of seven daggers. "David, come with me. You and I are going to Nottingham to gather some recruits." She did not wait for approval, but quickly kissed Will on the forehead. "I love you," she whispered. He nodded quickly and kissed her in return, but he was worried. She smiled at him. "Now don't go and blame yourself for Robin."

She turned to watch David struggling to gather some arrows. "Ach, that slow little fool," she muttered, but took advantage of the situation to feed Will some information. "I'll borrow Adam's cart. He has a fast horse, and it's only in the Middle Hawk's glade. I can ride and call on the coal miners; they love Robin to death, God bless them, and live nearest us. Besides which, they breed like rabbits." She winked. "We'll be back here soon as possible. You should go find Rob."

He nodded, locking her hand protectively in his. I had to admit that though I thought very little of him, Will looked so very sweet and loving when he was around Sara. She kissed him once more, this time on the lips. "Be careful, Will. And stop thinking this is your fault." He nodded dumbly and held her close to him, shutting his eyes. And seeing him like that, like he was going to break if he let go, sparked one of the only lights of pity I have ever felt for William of Norwell. "Saints, Sara, don't do anything stupid," he murmured, lips in her hair.

"I'm Irish,fear céile; it's in my blood. But I'll try."

Will smiled wryly, drawing back. He knew Sara was scared when she slipped into Gaelic. "We aren't married yet, dove. Don't call me husband so early; you'll give us bad luck."

Sara tilted her head to the side, love in her eyes as she looked up at him. She worked her fingers into his hair, smiling at him as if her were the most wonderful man in England. In my opinion, she was much too good for him. But she clearly thought differently, shaking her head fondly. "You eclipse my religion," she whispered, brushing the side of his face. And then suddenly she caught herself. "Ach! What in God's creation am I doing, love? You might as well call me Lucy, being such a fop when we've our own hides to save! Jesus, Mary, and Joseph! I'll see you when we've finished after all!" She paused only another moment, wishing he would agree to her lie. But only a sad smile. And so with one last quick kiss she was herself again, snapping for David to move his arse before she kicked it.

Will watched her hurrying out of camp for a few moments, as if she were a retreating into death and he would never see her again. He was clearly convinced that she was going into death, his face so drawn and low that his down-turned lips nearly parted, his shoulders brought slouching forward, every part of him needing to follow her because he saw no use in going to save a man he already thought dead. Oh, but there was a chance he could save him! He just had to move faster! Move faster, Will, you dumb lummox! Aye, you're going out of camp, but make those feet lighter! I sighed, remembering Will's sense of direction. Oh, every moment was so precious, and there was no time for him to debate over which turn to take! Lord, please send him to the High Road! If not for my sake, for Robin's! Good God, help Will find him!

It was lucky Gisbourne was such a slow killer, else I knew Robin would have been dead that very moment.

A/N: Yay! Another chapter down....and another cliffy-sort.....hehe. I'm evil, ain't I? And just a note::: the 5th commandment is "thou shalt not kill", for those who haven't been drilled on the commandments by Catholic nuns. haha. Just cuz Robin mentioned it, so I didn't want anybody to be staring blankly at the screen trying to recall what their boring CCD teacher said.lol
Raise what's left of the flag for me. (Who else likes the band Flogging Molly?)
Thanks for reading!!! You guys are the absolute best!!! (PEZ for everyone!!)