Many thanks to Kegel for not only betaing the chapter but helping with a tricky storyline in several areas. This chapter is for her! :D

Chapter Fourteen: Fading Time

He could feel the chill of the night slowly creeping through his body, but it was different than what he expected. Almost a numbing sensation, starting from inside his chest, spreading out to his limbs, clear to the tips of fingers that were wrapped tightly around the wooden base of the torch. Inside his chest his heart hammered, pounding deafeningly in his ears, his throat dry as the words reverberated through his mind.

Gisborne was still watching him, a hard, uncaring gaze that cut straight through him. The dilemma he was being faced with was a harsh one. The people inside the mill were Robin's men; he could not so easily kill them. But refusal would lead to his own life that was lost, and Collin had a foreboding feeling that the mill would burn with or without his consent.

He took a step closer, toying with the idea, trying to consider if his life was worth such a cause that would not see its way through. The trio inside would not find escape; Collin was no fool, the area was too heavily guarded. Collin had been with Gisborne earlier, watching the three men slowly approach the mill from a distance. Even in the darkness he had recognized John's bulky form, and then the two comparable ones thereafter.

What he couldn't figure out was why. Robin had already taken the silver; a slight detail he had failed to mention to Gisborne. It really had been incidental, for he had never meant to stumble on the unconscious guards in the forest. The woods in the back area were not considered part of his normal patrol, but nature did have a way of calling at inconvenient times.

But as perplexed as he was of his find, his attention could not be drawn away from the light ruckus deeper in the forest, and his eyes had just managed to catch the retreating cart, piled with bags, Robin himself leading the way. It had been amusing then, Collin understanding then what his plan had been. He had left the guards to their own devices, an explanation budding in the back of his mind should the need for one arise. So he had never expected to see the mill invaded.

Maybe they were not Robin's men, he reasoned, taking another step, his eyes wandering up the side of the old building. But he could not fool what his eyes had seen for certain, and he could not explain it. He could feel Gisborne's eyes still on him as he reached out with the torch, the flames licking into the night, reaching out to the wood.

And if he survived this night, Collin knew he would not live much longer. If the guilt did not kill him, then Robin for sure would. His fingers tightened around the torch with an even firmer grip as he bit his bottom lip. He knew what had to be done, knew that he probably would not survive this night, but death would come his way by his choice or not.

Swiftly he turned on his heel, digging the toe of his other foot into the ground to brace himself as he swung the torch brutally, letting it fly through the open air. Gisborne barely avoided the projectile, not having expected the sudden turn, the man tripping over his own feet as he stumbled out of the way. Sword already free, Collin blocked the first few attacks with ease, falling quickly into a battle rhythm. He had spared often enough to know the footwork, the swordplay, and the subtle differences between a true jab and a simple bluff. But never had he fought against so many alone.

Surprise had been his ultimate ally, but that lasted but a brief moment, the guards around him snapping to attention as Gisborne swore out orders, the man moving back to his feet, removing his own weapon. Collin ducked the incoming jab, moving around another, working to get free from the confines he had situated himself in. But the situation had only turned from bad to worse as more guards surrounded him, blades drawn, a mixture of confusion and resentment crossing their faces as they approached what they thought to be one of their own. Thrown off by the simple thought, Collin hadn't seen Gisborne's approach, nor the fist that came at him until after it had hit its mark, dropping him to the ground.

He could taste blood, the warm liquid dribbling down his chin as he spat awkwardly, his vision blurring momentarily as his head swam. His sword was kicked away, rough hands hauling him back to his feet, holding him firmly. Struggling was pointless then, but neither would Collin give up so easily. His movements stilled though as Gisborne approached, a scowl still on his face.

"Wrong move," he growled, nodding to the other men. "Get back on the mill; Robin and his men will not escape, not this time."

Collin's expression was unchanging, but inside his mind worked quickly. The man believed that Robin was inside; believed he had caught them all. Of course, it made sense to him now. Only Collin knew of everyone in the man's gang. Robin was well back in the forest by now, which meant…that meant there was still a chance. It came with dim realization of why, but he knew that the how was more pressing at the moment.

"We should kill him, Sir Guy," Davis remarked quietly, a cold smile plastered on the man's face.

"In due time," Gisborne remarked, retrieving the torch from the ground. "He'll watch his friends die first."

It was in that moment that Collin knew he had to move, had to do something. Then one of the men holding him let go for a brief moment, trying to secure his grasp. Collin didn't waste any time.

A quick blow to one chin, kicking up with his knee to the other, Collin had downed both men easily. There were more curses, another bout of shock, and the man used the opportunity to move across the opening, mounting Gisborne's horse in one fluid motion.

The creature was panicked from the boisterous commotion, taking off in a wild gallop as he spurred the animal on. A few strides later he had gained enough control, heading for the forest. It was then he risked a quick glance behind him, spotting a few men following on foot. They were no real danger; Collin could lose them easily enough. The true threat remained with Gisborne's promise, and he could only hope he had enough time.

There had been more there than he had first presumed. By quite a bit. The feeling was an uneasy one, invoking curiosity as well as dread. Whatever reason this much silver was needed for could not be a good one. War taxes should be heading to the Holy Lands; not to Prince John. But whatever reason it was to be used for, would now have to wait.

Robin forced a smile, closing the bag up one more time, dropping it in the pile among the others. Between the three of them they had managed to dig out a deep pit in the side near the camp. It would not only keep the silver hidden, but it would keep it close as well. When Gisborne figured out his lot had been stolen, the man would no doubt comb the forest for it. Robin felt more comfortable knowing it was under his nose.

"That was close," Much told him, sitting down on the bedroll he had spread out. "Too close if you ask me. Do you have any idea what Gisborne would have done if he caught you again?"

He frowned at the other man, pretending to search his mind for answers. He of course knew, but outwardly he shrugged, playing on the man's naivety. "No…why don't you enlighten me?"

"He would kill you," Much answered simply.

"Nah," Robin shook his head, holding back a grin.

"Yes, he would," the man pointed out, "you would have been hanged. And if you think that I would have come and saved you once again, you're mistaken. Because I wouldn't."

"You would," Djaq cut him off, her concentration focused on sharpening her knife against a rock.

"Would not," he replied, turning back to face Robin. "You are always getting into trouble. You deserve to learn from your mistakes every once in a while."

"By hanging?"

Much nodded quickly, pausing with a frown shortly after as he thought it over. "Of course," he said subtly after a moment, "I wouldn't actually let you hang. Maybe dangle for a moment, teach you a good lesson."

Robin laughed, shaking his head. Much wasn't the most rational thinker, but given time he could sort things out on his own. Over time he had grown used to the man's unusual quirks, and come to learn when to listen and when to ignore. Robin was convinced that the man would be solely happy with a span of endless food and drink, as well as a roof over his head. It was the simple pleasures he doted in, but the man's loyalty was too high to trade in for such contentment. Already he had proven that more than once.

"Well," Robin said with a shrug, moving to sit down next to his old friend. "We got the silver out; good work, the both of you," he nodded to Djaq before turning back to Much. "And you, for your brilliant idea."

"Still don't understand how it's my idea. You are the one who thought of it."

"You gave me the idea," Robin pointed out. "Wouldn't have thought of it if it wasn't for you."

"So basically you can say it was all my doing," Much nodded, a smile crossing his face. "What do you know? See, I can do something right, from time to time."

"Don't let it go to your head," Djaq told him.

"I resent that."

"Of course you do," she answered, "It is true."

Robin shook his head, listening to the exchange as he leaned back against the rock face that their camp was built in-between. It had been a good day; the plan had worked, they had the silver, and they were all accounted for. At least the three of them. It was a small group; too small for his liking, yet there wasn't a lot he could do about it.

Tomorrow they would span out, hit the villages with a small bag of silver, making sure everyone got enough to last them a few days. They couldn't risk a wide distribution at the moment. Instead they would have to sort it out to smaller drops, more often. Gisborne would be harder to avoid, and for sure the Sheriff would be more than angry. Robin had already thought of the prospect of dogs, of guards combing through the forest. They would have to be more than careful in the coming weeks, and watch their backs closely.

His eyes snapped open suddenly, the camp around him growing quiet as they heard it, too. Robin had first imagined he had been hearing it, but the noise was growing, drawing closer. He met Much's gaze, then Djaq's, the woman nodding to him, confirming what he was asking. The call came again; short, loud and panicked, worry creeping into Robin as he listened.

"I know that voice."

Instantaneously he was on his feet, weapon in hand as he raced down the hill, weaving in and out of trees as he reached the main road, his breaths coming in short gasps as he saw the horse hastening towards them, the rider calling out to him once again. Frantically Collin pulled the beast to a halt, the horse rearing at the sudden movement.

"Robin, John, the others, Gisborne has them trapped."

"Where?"

"Master!" Much came running after him, pulling to a stop, his expression hardening as he caught sight of the newcomer. "You! What do you want?!"

"Where?" Robin pressed the question again, cutting over Much's.

"The old mill," he breathed, "Gisborne set the trap there; everything's boarded up. Robin, they can't get out.

"Another trap?" Much questioned, shaking his head. "We won't fall for it."

Robin barely heard the statement, his eyes locking instead with the frazzled man still atop the horse. Djaq's approach was silent, but he didn't even respond when she placed a hand on his forearm. "Robin…"

"There's more," Robin said quietly, nodding to him. "Tell me."

"Gisborne's not taking them to the castle; he's going to burn it."

"What?"

"You can't believe what he says," Much laughed nervously next to him. "I mean, he's lied once before; this is another one. Gisborne found out we took the silver, and he wants it back."

"Robin please," Collin shook his head, "Trust me, I am with you."

"We go," Robin said quickly, already moving back up the hill to fetch the horse. He hadn't gotten far when Much stopped him, shaking his head.

"Master, please! Be reasonable, you cannot just go rushing off into danger."

"We do not have time! John and the others are in trouble," Robin told him harshly, "because of me. I will not abandon them."

"How do you know what he's saying is true?"

"I don't," Robin told him quietly, grasping his arm for but a moment, "but that's a risk I'm willing to take. If you come with me, do it on your own will, not mine." He gave his arm one final squeeze before turning away. If Collin was telling the truth, then every second counted.

It was a daring plan, but it was all he had. Both John and Allan listened, listened as though it would be the last words they would ever hear. Part of Will knew that it more in likely would be. It would take too long to pry the boards loose from the windows, and by that time the archers would have released their weapons. They were no Robin Hood for sure, but even they couldn't miss at such close range. Will knew that their way out was the same way they had come in. It would mean a sudden attack, and most likely a sudden death, but it was better than sitting and waiting for the end to come.

He had only finished explaining a portion of a plan when a commotion broke out outside, Will moving to the window after a moment. His gaze saw the lay of the land below through the cracks in the boards, a frown crossing his face. "The guards...they're gone."

Allan was next to him, as was John, the three taking turns peering outside. They could not be seen, but they could be heard. "Maybe they've moved to the front," he whispered quietly, exchanging looks with the men.

"Coming to take us to our maker," Allan rolled his eyes, shaking his head. "We're going to die."

"More in likely," Will agreed.

"You're supposed to say no. That's what Robin always says."

"Well I'm not Robin," he snapped angrily, shaking his head as the guards slowly reappeared. What had drawn their attention away, he wondered?

"Obviously," the man shook his head. "So what's your plan again? Run straight into certain death?"

"Something like that."

Will let out a sigh, pulling away from the window. "No demands, no calls for surrender. What are they waiting for?"

"Ransom?" John suggested. "For Robin?"

"Robin's not coming," Will told him quietly. "He wouldn't be foolish enough to try and risk this. Even if he was, he would have already been here."

"Besides," Allan added, "They don' know it's just us."

"True," Will agreed quietly. "When we get out, head for the forest. Do not stop, for anyone."

"This I do not like," John shook his head slowly. "We go, together."

"I don't think there will be a together John," Will shook his head sadly. "You go, and you don't look back."

Allan nodded, a frown on his face. His expression changed slowly, from dejection to confusion as he sniffed the air. "Not being funny, but it smells like something's burning."

He smelt it in the next moment as well. A deep, smoky odor, lingering in the air. Will knew there were still many things in this life in which he had to learn, but the one thing he already knew was the simple fact that where smoke was, a fire was surely near. And his ears could hear it; the sound reaching his ears, growing in strength as he could start to see the wisps of smoke drifting through the air.

Then the darkness of the room was chased away abruptly as flames licked into the room from the ceiling above, parts of the blazing material falling through, landing in a clutter on the floor. There were shouts between them as they scattered, Allan stamping out the burning mass to little avail.

"What are you doing?" Will yelled at him, grabbing him by the arm, pulling him out of the way as more of the roof began to cave in. "That's not going to help, get out of here!"

John had already taken the lead, well into the next room as he made his way for the stairwell to the main room below. Will shoved Allan ahead of him, turning back as the heat of the fire licked at him from behind, his attention balancing between fear and astonishment at the power such a minute thing could hold. Above him the roof creaked, groaning from the support it had lost, beginning to cave in.

Will forced himself to move, racing towards the next room. Ahead of him he could already see Allan moving down the stairwell, following John's lead. He was only mere moments behind, reaching the room as more of the roof fell behind him, the dry material encumbered in flames.

Part of him felt as though he was going to make it, even if only just, but his slight anticipation was short lived as the rest of the roof began to collapse, following in succession with its predecessor. Will came to a halt, narrowly missing the crumbling wreckage, balancing in the doorframe, the one and only strong point of the upper floor.

But his stronghold would not last forever, he knew, the flames devouring the wood around him hungrily. Already the heat licked the cold air about him, but worse yet was the thick clouds of smoke billowing into the air, stealing away what little air he had left.

Will dropped to his knees, holding the frame of the door between his hands, his eyes just catching the clear path along the wall. Bits of fiery debris dropped from above, the very ends of the ceiling still holding strong where roof and wall conjoined. He could still make it, if he hurried.

Moving to his feet he kept to the wall, hood up to protect from the burning embers that were drifting downwards, and from the sparks shooting off the burning mass consuming itself in the midst of the room. The building itself was groaning in protest at the sudden treatment, trembling under his bare hands as Will edged along slowly, hurried gasps of air filling his lungs that refused to satisfy him.

Then there was another groan, one that was much louder, much deeper, a fierce shudder racing through the wall near him. It was barely a warning, but Will knew in the pit of his stomach that there wasn't much hope as the rest of the roof came crashing down upon him in one giant burning heap.

TBC