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The darkness was steadily creeping in. The Sheriff had kept them late at the castle on account of the Prince's arrival. Guy had lingered by the cell of Philip while the child lay unmoving on the cold, filthy, stone beneath him. It was not until Spencer came down that Guy moved.

"The Sheriff wants to know what you're skulking about down here for?" Spencer peered into the cell and a glimmer of emotion raced across his face - though Guy couldn't quite catch what it was.

Guy's arms were crossed as he leaned against the bars. He glanced at Sir Spencer with a look of disinterest and indifference. He stared back at the boy and almost hoped that he died in his sleep. He would suffer less.

"What should I tell him?" Spencer broke Guy's distracted thoughts.

Guy sneered, "Nothing." He turned to ascend the stairs and stole one last look at the unconscious boy. Spencer remained by the bars himself and Guy felt a chill fill his stomach. He could only hope that Spencer was the one who ended up with the boy's blood on his hands…

Spencer looked down at the boy. He had no personal concern for the lad; fulfilling his plan was all he cared about accomplishing. Philip was just another obstacle in his quest. Nevertheless, Spencer hoped that he would be able to use the boy to his advantage. He fancied himself good at manipulating people - the Prince was his next target and he could use Philip to firmly entrench himself in Prince John's favor.

In the end, he was pleased that he had not killed the boy. It might play better this way. Disposing of him in the future would earn him a good mark and that might be something that he could rob from Gisborne. He smiled - his plan would come to a head. Surely, it would.

Allan rode beside Guy as they approached Locksley. The young boy, Philip, was sleeping in the dungeons tonight and Allan felt his stomach churn at the thought. He had spent enough time in a cell to last for three lifetimes - what hell that little boy must be going through… It was bad enough for a full-grown man to be subjected to the harsh, despicable conditions of the dungeons - let alone a child. He didn't express his concerns to Guy on the matter lest the latter show him disdain and accuse him of being soft.

Guy stared straight ahead knowing too well what awaited him when he arrived home. He had almost considered staying the night at Nottingham castle whereas the other part of him desired to hasten to Locksley and have it over and done with. For it was not the loving arms of a lonely wife that waited eagerly on his return but the cold glare of a woman scorned that prowled the manor waiting to pounce. Guy could not admit to being keen on reaching the manor house.

He lingered by the stable even as Allan disappeared inside Locksley to announce their arrival. What was he to tell her? That he had done the Sheriff's bidding and fetched the Prince and his nephew? That he feared he was expected to kill the child? Possibly in front of an audience while the Prince clapped his hands in a fit of glee? His stomach rolled when he remembered the nagging doubt that she already knew of these matters and had confided them willingly and without delay…

With unfaltering step, Guy walked to the manor. Pushing open the door, he came face to face with Marian. Having already been present for Allan's entrance, she was waiting for him. Guy pinched the bridge of his nose - this was not going to be pleasant.

"Where were you?" she demanded, hands on her hips, chin jutted out defiantly, lips pursed angrily.

"On business for the Sheriff," Guy said, unable to keep the weariness from creeping into his voice.

"What type of business?"

"Now that's not really any of your concern - is it?" Guy felt the twinge of guilt that his words were intentionally meant to provoke her.

Her eyes tore through him angrily. "No. I suppose it is not." She spun around on her heel and left him standing in the doorway.

His face darkened. Though this was the greeting he had expected, it was not the one he had hoped for. Biting back a snarl, he pursued her up the wooden steps and into their chamber. "Marian!"

Her proud face was looking haughtily back at him and Guy knew she was far from done. "Do you have no care?" she demanded.

Guy suddenly felt very cold, he took a step away and felt his back grow rigid. "You know the answer to that." His head was bent; his eyes looked hurt and yet they still managed to hold some of their harshness.

Marian felt as though her mouth had gone dry, she licked her lips, "At times I wonder. You left. You never told me. You didn't care enough."

"I came to tell you. You were gone!" Guy crossed his arms over his chest, placing just that much more distance between them. His eyes had narrowed and his nose wrinkled.

Marian's eyes widened slightly - he had come. Though she knew that she was being unreasonable she was still at the peak of her anger. She would not give into his declaration. "So you say."

Guy flinched in surprise, "What would you like me to do?"

Power. That is what Marian felt at that moment, "Apologize to start." She locked eyes with her husband. She would make him back down first.

Guy laughed bitterly, "I could beg your forgiveness till I bled out on the ground and you would still withhold it. Because that's not what you want."

Marian broke eye contact without realizing it, "And what do I want?" Her voice had lost its fire. Pushing her hair back she looked away - she did not want to see his face. If she looked at him, he would see that he had been right. She didn't want to see the smugness dance in his eyes.

Guy gave her a forced, watery smile, "I don't know."

Marian looked up at him then, her lips parted in a gasp of shock. She gaped at him and sucked in her breath, opening her mouth again to address his statement but it was a moment too late. Guy had turned and walked out the door, down the stairs, and back out into the darkening eve. It was his turn to leave her standing like a fool.

She had expected him to continue the argument. She had not expected him to see her true self. To see that he was at a loss. To see that there was nothing he could do to appease her. He was even more right then he knew - even she didn't know what she wanted.

She gripped the banister so forcefully that she was sure the wood would splinter and rain down like a fast summer shower. After watching the last sliver of his long, black, coat slip out the crack in the doorway, she expected nothing less then to hear the slamming of the door as he pronounced his exit. But in the end, all she heard was a soft clack as the door closed quietly behind him.

Outside Guy was not as composed or calm as he would have preferred. He snatched the stable door open; it wobbled and jerked at his abrupt, harsh actions. With controlled rage, he saddled his horse and mounted. It only took a second for his steed to break into a gallop once they were out of the confines of the stable.

The past several days were coming one by one to play out in his mind's eye. None of them held any pleasantries for him. He felt as if the weight of the entire world was resting upon his shoulders and there was nothing he could do to alleviate it. Marian had been the culmination of his mental torment. It was time for him to take a step back. Before he could properly gather his thoughts Guy found himself in Nottingham. His horse had slowed without his knowledge and he was riding through the dark, deserted streets aimlessly.

Now it could be said that the devil had a hand in this but surely every man uses that excuse when he finds himself confronted with the door to the Trip. Without hesitation, Guy tethered his horse, pushed open the door and strode inside. It was brighter then he had expected, however that could be caused by the darkness he had been traveling in. The smell was unpleasant but it soon became apparent that his nose would get use to the strong odor. His ears were assaulted by loud laughter and drunken gibberish. Sparsely clad maidens - and he used that term lightly - were scattered around the cramped area.

He felt his face twist angrily at the people who sat and drank. These were some of the same men who claimed to be unable to pay their taxes. How could they make their women and children suffer while they squandered their livelihoods? However, deep down he knew that this was not truly the case. The majority of peasants worked hard, even slaved - though Guy preferred not to dwell on that - to feed their families and pay the Sheriff.

The offensive laughter came to a sudden halt and Guy's scattered wits took a breath's time to realize that he was the cause. Jerking out the nearest unoccupied chair, Guy swung into it, "Ale!" His eyes darted to the barkeep and saw his vacillation. He spit out the next word, "Now!"

After that, it did not take long for a tankard to be brought to him. He seized the handle and stared down into the coppery liquid. Upon seeing his own face, Guy sneered into his reflection before taking a long, gulping drink. The Sheriff was right - he was soft. Why, he couldn't even control his own wife. Most in his position would be man enough to put her in her place - by threats or even force… Though Guy lost his temper and couldn't deny the passing thoughts that gamboled through his mind - he couldn't bring himself to use physical strength to earn her obedience. He could never harm her. He was weak. In the treacherous world he lived in, weakness nay, humanity was not an option… He knew that.

His drink was gone long before he had slaked his thirst and he thunderously called for another one. All too soon, that one joined its companion. The noise had resumed though at a more subdued pitch. Everyone was cautious of the Sheriff's personal weapon. Guy paid no heed; he was too absorbed in his own troubles to care if he had put a damper on their wretched evening.

The table scratched at his leather-clad arms - roughening up the smooth skin; Guy cared not. Neither did the oppressive air bother him anymore. Even the alcohol didn't seem to burn as sharply after so many drinks. Guy felt no emotional response to anything until one of the girls of the inn gently blew on his ear as she sauntered past. Instantly he felt a rush of desire. Eyes clouded over with drink, he swallowed hard and looked at the temptress.

Coyly she smiled back at him but instead of feeling his heart quicken and his breath catch, Guy of Gisborne felt like he was about to choke. He looked away promptly - he would not betray Marian. Betrayal was the worse crime a man could commit and he would not be guilty of such an act against her.

He turned back to his dwindling drink, crouching his shoulders and trying to ignore the tightness in his chest. He loathed himself for the passing thought. One more mark against him. He drained his ale yet again.

The hour had grown very late and Marian stood in her long shift, pacing the bedchamber. Guy had not come home and she couldn't help but blame herself. Her bare feet felt cold against the stark wood as she grabbed her shawl off the foot of the bed and swung it carelessly about her shoulders.

Swiftly she opened the door and hastened down the stairs, straight into the area of the servants quarters. Without hesitation, she rapped upon the door she was looking for. When no one came, she knocked again. The third time she banged. Slowly the door began to creek open and there stood Allan, bleary eyed and rubbing his hand down his stubbled face - still careful to avoid his sore nose.

"Wa' is it Marian?" he said, making a show of yawning to remind her that he had been sleeping only moments before.

"Guy hasn't come back," Marian said, ignoring the disrespect that he was enjoying showing her.

"Well ya did give him the devil. Not to be funny but I don't blame 'im." Allan's face quirked at the stormy look she gave him. "Well what do ya want me to do 'bout it?" He threw his hands into the air in front of him.

"I want you to go find him," she said, the exasperation blatantly showing on her face.

Allan looked longingly back at his rumpled bed - oh, how he wished to back under the warm covers. "Marian - it's dark. It's late. He's not a little feller' he'll be fine." Well hopefully that had settled that.

Marian turned her back on him and stormed away, "If you won't go - I will."

Allan stood in quiet contemplation - if and when Guy found out that he refused to go at Marian's request and let her go out into the streets of Nottingham alone - why he might as well consider Sir Spencer his new found friend… "Wait - Marian!" He was ever so thankful when she stopped, though she refused to turn and face him. "I'll go find 'im. Don't get your drawers all in a bunch." He said the final part of the sentence as he brushed past her, boots in hand and padded to the manor door. Giz had better be grateful that he had someone around who wouldn't let Marian go gallivanting off into God knows what. Night Watchman or no - she was quite skilled at getting herself into scrapes. And now she was including him in them…

By the time Allan caught sight of Guy's horse the night was well along and dawn was only a few short hours away. Shaking his head, he dismounted his own animal and tethered it next to Gisborne's. He saw Guy straightaway when he entered the weak light of the Trip. He stood out from the rest of the patrons like a duck in a hen house. Allan approached Guy, who curled around his tankard, both hands gripping it tightly as if it would run away from him given the opportunity. Guy looked like he would snap at anyone who came near and from the distance everyone else was keeping, it appeared he might already have…

Allan eased down next to him, "Hey there mate."

Guy shifted his eyes in Allan's direction, they were barely open and Allan had to admit, slightly crossed. "Wha' da' you - want?" Guy spit out the last word and Allan tried not to be too obvious about wiping it off his visage.

"I came to bring you home."

Guy turned silently back to his drink, eyes now downcast.

Allan clapped him on the arm to lighten the mood; Guy moved his shoulder closer to himself. "Ya know - Marian sent me."

Guy perked up a bit at that, "She did?" His words were slightly slurred, tumbling over each other in their attempt to get out.

How many drinks had he had? Allan rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah - she's worried 'bout you. Wants ya home."

A sloppy smile inched its way across Guy's somber face. It took only a second before it fell. "No - she doesn't." He tried to gulp at his drink again - only to find it nearly empty. He slammed it down to the table, muttering under his breath curses and outrage at the approaching loss.

Allan nudged the mug a little away from Guy, "You know she wont be 'appy if you get foxed an all."

Guy chuckled, "Too late." He eyed the tankard and pushed it back towards himself.

Allan nodded gravely - he had a point… "Ya know it's not her fault she's a woman."

Guy screwed up his face in confusion, "What?"

"Women are fussy. They don' know what they want. One minute they're all over ya - t' next not so much. But they can't help themselves."

Guy snorted, "And what do you know about women?"

Shrugging, Allan scooted Guy's tankard a little bit further away once again, "My mother was one."

The small swig that Guy had taken before Allan had the audacity to move his mug, came spewing out of his mouth. While Guy laughed loudly, Allan was more than grateful that he had not been sitting across from him. But it was amidst this laughter that Guy felt a jerking pain in his chest. His amusement was replaced by dismay as the pain made his entire upper torso shudder. Guy growled.

Allan's eyes were laughing and he was desperate to keep that laughter from exploding from his mouth. He clapped Guy on the shoulder and stood up. Lifting up on his arm, Allan said, "Come on - lets get ya 'ome before you hiccup your way to the floor."

Marian stood by the window waiting for Allan to return with her husband. She tried to keep her mind off where he might have gone but the distrustful and despicable feelings that he had ventured into the open arms of some trollup kept plaguing her.

When she caught sight of two figures riding in the distance, she ran down the stairs to the door. She waited for what seemed like an eternity. It didn't seem possible for it to take anyone that long to stable their horses. Yet here she was - still waiting. It was about that time she heard Allan and Guy outside and with renewed fury she swung open the door. There stood Allan with Guy leaning heavily upon his shoulder unable to stand up straight let alone on his own two feet.

Her fury turned to shock and she stepped out further with her hands on her hips, "He's in his cups!" She exhaled vehemently and shook her head, frowning deeply as she did so.

Allan looked exhausted as if it had taken every fiber of his being to get Guy here. Sweat was running down his face from the strain of Guy leaning all his weight upon him, "It's worse than that, Marian - he's in his hiccups."

"What?" she asked, her brow wrinkled in bewilderment.

Allan looked to Guy for confirmation but Guy's short bout with them had ended soon after they started. Guy reminded himself not to laugh and drink in the future. Neither option sounded appealing - especially when done together.

Marian was still waiting expectantly for Allan to provide an explanation for his statement. Attempting to shrug but sadly failing with Guy leaning on him, Allan said, "Well seeing you must'a scared them out of him." Now whereas Allan meant that Guy was dreading a continuation of their previous fight - this particular statement could be taken quite the wrong way...

Marian made a sound of disgust in the back of her throat. Ignoring Allan she turned her full attention to her husband.

Guy glowered at her from his sloping position against Allan. Sighing, Marian pulled her shawl tighter about her and stepped barefoot into the damp, cold grass and slipped under Guy's other arm. He tried to pull away from her and almost succeeded in toppling the entire procession over and onto Allan. Fortunately, he gave up that notion soon after his first attempt.

It took Marian and Allan's combined efforts to get Guy not only into the house but also up the stairs. The latter was proved a grueling challenge for Guy kept attempting to dismiss both of his assistants. He was determined that he could manage quite well on his own though the rest of the household would differ with him on that subject surely.

Finally, the two of them managed to get Guy into the bedchamber without him crashing down the stairs. Allan lifted Guy's sluggish arm from atop him, "I'll be goin' back to sleep now. I aint gonna get 'im ready for bed." At the murderous look he received from Marian, Allan shrugged his stiff shoulders, "You're the one who wanted him back." Allan closed the door as he quit the room, thankful it was over for the night and praying that morning didn't come quite as soon as he expected.

Guy sat on the bed; his head turned to the side, eyes down. He refused to meet Marian's accusatory stare. All traces of drunken mirth having dissipated at the Trip, Guy felt more composed than he had for some time. Still his head felt hazy as if someone had wrapped a blanket around his thoughts. He gave his head a shake, it made it ache and the room spun wildly as did his stomach.

Marian felt slightly mollified when she saw him wince. "Where were you?" she demanded for the second time that night.

He still refused to look her way, "Isn't that obvious?" There was a hint of a snarl in his words as he stared at the blank wall.

"I suppose it is. But I thought you would be man enough to tell me."

Guy stood so fast that he almost lost his balance, "Man enough? You caused this by your self-righteous vindic-vindictiveness." After stuttering about his words nearly lost all meaning. Nearly…

Her hands fell from her hips and lay at her sides. He was right and Marian knew it. Although her pride prevented her from admitting it aloud. She feared that if she gave into him consistently that he would come to expect it even when he was in the wrong. It was easier to be angry with him - that way she didn't have to feel too much. The less she felt about him or Robin the less complicated her heart became.

Nevertheless, seeing him looking away from her made her anger dissipate. She couldn't help but feel. Forcefully she whipped off her shawl and tossed it at the foot of the bed. "Go to sleep."

Guy's expression grew puzzled at her command, "Why?"

Marian turned the bedcovers down, "Because you're drunk and I don't want you to pass out on the floor."

His lips upturned in an amused smirk, "You do care." Guy suddenly felt exhausted; the strain of their fight and the past several nights had taken their toll on him. It was all he could do to get his boots off before he fell into bed. As if from a distance his mind told him that some of his fatigue could be due to his large intake of alcohol earlier - though he tried to dismiss that minor detail.

It did not take Guy long to fall asleep. Marian's eyes were fixated on him as he drifted off. She winced as he moaned and yet part of her hoped that his head pained him. He deserved it for getting inebriated.

Marian also felt sorry for him. She hoped that part of his escapade tonight was that he felt troubled by what the Sheriff might be calling on him to do. Marian shuddered at the last thought. The answer to many might seem black and white - right and wrong - without question. But Marian knew what type of man she had married and she knew what was expected of him. His choices never were so plain and simple. Everything is a choice - and sometimes everyone made one that they lived to regret… In the near future Marian knew she would learn which of her choices would be lamentable. Until then - she would have to try harder to make the most of her situation and her husband's. Not that she wouldn't play the Sheriff at his own game.

It did give her a spark of gladness that Guy had come to bid her farewell. At least he had considered her feelings; and that thought alone echoed around her being like a thunderclap. However the fact remained that he was supporting the Sheriff and King Richard would not take kindly to Guy's difference of opinion - especially if that involved the killing of the King's son. She felt pained to remember, as she lay next to her fitful husband, that the King would execute any whom he found to be traitorous. Moreover, the sad consolation that Robin would still be there for her plagued her nightmares and haunted her dreams. No amount of interceding on her part would save her husband from a dastardly fate.

Guy couldn't stop his erratic slumber. The drink had gone to his head and he tossed and turned uncomfortably. Gently Marian ran her hand over his face, soothing him. Guy's troubled sleep eased as she continued her calming ministrations. She sighed and leaning over, kissed his forehead. Guy twitched but did not wake, a fact for which Marian was everlastingly grateful. She did not want him to see her open display of affection. His ignorance was her bliss.

She eased herself down and held her pillow, moving a strand of hair out of her husband's face. He had relaxed and his breathing had a rhythmic hum. She exhaled and watched Guy continue to sleep. It wasn't often that he looked so peaceful. She vowed to remember him like this - this could be the last time she saw him calm. She wanted to keep the good memories for when King Richard returned the last memory she would have would be of him convulsing on a scaffold…

Robin sat on a log by the fire mulling over his options. How could he get the boy out? Will had been to the castle when the sky was just growing dark and had reported more guards than usual. These were extra precautions for the Prince's visit.

It would be far riskier to brave the castle. Not necessarily to himself or even his men but usually their exits were hasty at best - how would they be able to get a child safely out under those circumstances? An injured one at that?

Much took the seat next to him and though he didn't say anything and only stared into the fire along with Robin - the latter found his presence to be most helpful and comforting.

Robin knew that time was running short. It wouldn't take Prince John long to decide to do away with his nephew - unless he wanted to make a game of the boy's fear and misery. That was still a possibility and Robin feared it far worse than if the Prince would order an immediate execution. At least the lad wouldn't be forced to suffer the mental anguish of considering his fate. Though more than likely, the lad had already thought about his future at length.

Plucking a stick from the ground, Much stirred the fire. The flames jumped back into life and the sparks reflected in Robin's contemplative eyes. The smoke made his nose sting and run, and he wiped at it quickly. Tomorrow Robin would see Marian and be as near to her as he would allow himself. And tomorrow he would ask for her help in saving the child. Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough…

Meanwhile in another dark corner of the world lay a small, frail, figure slightly curled in on himself. This was a different position from where he had lain flat on his back a few hours ago. Philip had woken from his lifeless sleep and tried to stand. His head was far too wounded and impaired for him to accomplish this feat and he crumpled back to the stone in a fit of vomiting.

Slumping onto his side, Philip wiped his mouth on his sleeve and gagged again at the sour stench. He licked his lips and closed his eyes, fighting to remember what led him to this place. He did remember running through the forest but then - nothing. Groaning he tried not to think anymore. He didn't want to dwell on the prospect of his uncle plotting his death or think about how that death would take place. He didn't even wish to think on any of the kindness his captor's had shown him. Kindness made it hurt all the more.

A/N - Greetings! Sorry this chapter is so short but it kinda needed to be done. Next time Robin will visit Marian and Guy will find out something that he would rather not have. Allan will have a larger role and he and Spencer will have a few more issues… ;) Plus there will be a little bit of Vaisey in the next chapter. (Dunno if that is a good thing or not. ;) ) I do hope that everyone was in character and that I am not just repeating myself. I feel that emotions are a very important part of the story and that any personal or inner conflict cannot just be forgotten, ignored, or miraculously changed. Hope that made sense… I promise that the next chapter will get the plot moving more. I swear it!

Also I hope that Guy's couple hiccups were not too childish/stupid... I thought that they added some levity to the chapter but I didn't want to make them a large part of it... Hopefully they added just the right note of humor and didn't take away from the story... I hope. *gulp* Good grief - I think I'm more nervous about that than anything...

I would also like to thank my anonymous reviewers - I really do enjoy hearing from you and am sorry that I cannot tell you personally but I want you to know how much I appreciate your feedback.