Sorry for the long wait, been busy with a number of things. Sequel is planned, read at bottom for more details.

Chapter Seventeen: Coming Together

It felt as though the night could stretch on forever. Perhaps it did, because Robin hadn't even seen the breech of morning until it was into the day. His mind had been preoccupied, his hands busy. He had been right about the plant, the strange materials unknown to him but so familiar with Djaq who had worked with it quickly. Her skill was more of an art than a knowledge he realized, watching her hands move with graceful motions, communicating back and forth with Much who readied a fire to use.

Will slept, fitfully yet heavily, aware of only the brusquest movements, but even then he did not linger long in the land of the coherent. While it was unnerving, Djaq reassured them differently. It was expected, even wanted. His body needed the rest most of all, and for the following days he would be overly worn even with his limited routine. And it was sleep that would heal him the quickest.

While Djaq kept vigil over their fallen comrade, Robin had requested Much's aid once more. The yearning for the knowledge of what was happening about them was far too great for him to ignore. Robin left, appointing John to take the lead as he trekked back out towards Locksley. It was a much slower pace than before. That was due to several reasons.

One was due to the apprehension. Robin wanted to know as much as he didn't want to know. It hadn't been a choice to leave the village in such a state, but Will, and his men, were more important than property; property that could be restored. But it was still his village, the same village that Dan Scarlet had helped build, the same village that Robin had spent most of his years growing up in. If it was ruined, by Gisborne's thoughtless actions, then Robin wasn't sure of what he would do.

And Gisborne was another reason that prompted the slow pace. Robin had wounded the man. There was no doubt in his mind the man deserved it; after all Robin had given him plenty of warning before following through with such an act. But guilt still tore inside of him. The wound itself was not fatal, but the following effects could be if not properly taken care of. And no doubt the recent actions would also prompt a higher price on his head…Gisborne surely would be desperate to make him pay, despite the fact that Robin had also saved his life.

Several times now Much tried to broach the subject, but each time Robin dismissed it. How could he speak of something he knew nothing of? Much was a simple man; he couldn't understand the deep thoughts that plagued his mind. Nor did Robin wish for him to. A simple man should have only simple thoughts, and enjoy them as such. Worries and burdens were not meant for such a soul, and Robin could not share them even if it would mean a chance to lessen the weight he was carrying.

What he saw at Locksley, however, did. The mill itself was in ruins, smoldering in the early morning light but clearly not a threat any longer. It was clear the villagers were worn and tired from having battled the blaze, wandering about with forlorn expressions as they tried to complete their morning chores. A thorough scan gave Robin confidence as Gisborne was nowhere in sight, and the man chanced a move into the village.

Some information was gathered at their inquiring, a mixture of remorse as well as felicitations on his courageous deed. Whether they were referring to his feat of saving Will, or going back for Gisborne he would never know, but Robin passed regrets along with well wishes to those he could, leaving them with a collection of coins from the earlier silver hoard they had taken. It would see them through the following weeks, and he left them with careful words to hide it well.

From there, Robin sent Much back to camp in spite of the man's protest. It hadn't taken long, Much would only question him so many times before he obeyed. Robin waited till his form disappeared into the woods before setting out in a new direction himself.

Word from the villagers had stated that Gisborne had returned to Nottingham Castle to seek treatment for his injuries. Various stories claimed anything from that the man had stridden out of the village under his own power, clear to the grotesquely outdone ones that his guards had rushed his quivering and flailing body through the woods on a make-shift stretcher as blood cascaded to the ground. Though Robin hardly believed that was the case, he needed to know for sure.

Another long trek, especially by foot, and still Robin failed to notice the time that went by. It was all one long event for him, feelings of guilt and remorse filling him so full it was hard to breathe at times. His rash decisions had caused the upheaval in his gang, had forced them apart with bitter ends. He could have prevented it, could have seen it coming if only he had paid attention. But he hadn't. His own thoughts and feelings enwrapped in a time and a dimension that he himself only knew. Will had been right.

He was still recovering from the previous event. Physically he was perfectly fine; his wounds were nearly healed if not so already, and none of the measures he had endured had left him any worse for the wear. But emotionally had been another matter altogether. Now he not only battled the demons from the war, but the terrors that sprung forth from his time in captivity, however brief it had been.

Pain itself was never a pleasant sensation, and it wasn't the physical that caused the worst of sensations. It was the knowledge of being powerless, of having to submit to another without say. Gisborne had unleashed his wrath from time to time during his short hold, and Robin had been unable to prevent any of it. That was what had terrified him the most. Of waking, and not knowing when or for how long the quiet inner-sanctum would last.

By every mean, and every measure in his body, Robin knew he would be justified to kill Gisborne where the man stood. Bloodshed in the Holy Lands had weakened him, had presented him as a coward in the eyes of those who surrounded him. But true courage came not from doing, but rather from withholding. By granting Gisborne his life, and sparing it when it should rightfully be taken, Robin knew he had moved beyond that assumption. The assumption that one must kill in order to make a difference. A fool-hardy assumption.

But like a fool, Robin was not entirely so. His days of killing were not over, no matter how much he wanted to believe it to be so. For though some problems could not be solved with a sword or an arrow, there were those that could not be solved without them. And knowing when to stay your blade, and when to cross them, was a valuable trait that anyone could learn given the time.

The difficultly lay in the pretense that what was once before would always be, but human nature was folly because it was ever-changing even without the knowledge or perception of doing. Repeating a notion purely out of the habit of knowing it had worked before was as dangerous as it was foolish. Though Robin had known this, somewhere in the back of the deepest parts of his mind, he had continually ignored it.

He had gone off the perception that his men would return, and so hadn't seen the entire piece of the puzzle, and therefore had fallen into the same trap he had warned others about so many times. A blunder that had nearly cost not just the prospect of life, but the potential of trust from those he had worked so hard to regain and hold strong. And one life still hung in the balance.

And these were the thoughts that so consumed his soul and mind that Robin hardly noticed the passing of time, realizing only when he arrived at Nottingham that the day had drifted from the morning and into the phase of noon. He switched from his thoughts, sheltering them deep in his mind, concentrating instead on finding a way in. Nottingham itself was easy to get into, but the castle was another matter. Through luck, through skill, and unsuspected distraction, Robin managed well enough.

He traveled the same hallways, the same corridors he knew so well. His mind had learned them all, the way no longer a befuddling maze that led him astray. Robin's steps were careful and precise, edging closer to the room he knew would be occupied with Gisborne should the man be resting. Another glance, one last look, and he slipped inside unseen.

Though it was in the midst of the day it was no surprise to find the man lost in a restless sleep. He lay on the fanciful bed, a bandage wound tightly about his shoulder where the original wound was sustained. Burns, light in touch and hardly tingeing the skin could be seen in spattered arrays about his chest, neck and face. Robin knew he looked similar, if only slightly. The flickering coals has warmed his skin upon contact, and though he had yet to address them any attention, Robin knew in his mind they were no more prominent than the marks that Gisborne bore.

For several long moments he studied the other man; one could almost say he was infatuated with Gisborne's prone form, but that was hardly the case. Robin was listening as much as he was watching, hearing the stifled breaths that came from the man, his eyes catching the rise and fall of the man's bare chest. No sign of fever, nor was there an indication that copious amounts of blood had been lost. These were all promising signs, and Robin felt his confidence returning, moving to leave the room.

The motion itself was so slight that it was almost missed. But Robin had been prepared, had prepared himself before even venturing inside, and even as Gisborne moved, Robin had his bow ready, an arrow notched and aimed, ready to fly free if he should so choose.

The look on the man's face was a cross of disbelief and slight apprehension. Robin had already shot him once so it was natural for him to assume that Hood could do so again. The mere thought must have crossed his mind, for Gisborne halted his movements, residing between a reclining and a sitting position, forcing most of his weight back on his elbows.

"Hood," he breathed, his eyes flicking to his sword that was just within reach. For a moment he started to move, but withdrew as Robin called him on it.

"Do not move," he warned, Robin forcing his voice to remain low. He did not need another confrontation in this tiny room. This encounter itself had not been planned. Robin had only wanted to make sure the man would actually live.

"What? Come to finish off the job?"

A goad; Robin was wise enough to ignore it, keeping his aim level. He extended a foot, inching forward slowly and never breaking eye contact. With a few short steps he was close enough to knock the weapon away from the bed, the sword clattering onto the floor noisily. Robin didn't stop there, scooting it out of harm's way to ensure his own safety. Even a wounded Gisborne could be dangerous, and he didn't intend of presenting the man with such an opportunity.

"You never lost your taste for blood," Gisborne continued, his gaze searching the room, perhaps running his tongue to bide his time until he solved the mystified puzzle of how to disentangle himself from such a mess. "Couldn't have the satisfaction of killing me when the fire about had me, could you?"

Or maybe his hopes resided in the yearning for someone else to come along. But Robin knew how Gisborne operated; there was no doubt in his mind that Gisborne had sent everyone away with strict orders to not interrupt him during his sleep.

"You are lucky I came back for you," Robin finally answered, his eyes narrowing as he watched the man. "I doubt it is a mistake I will repeat again."

"Was it a mistake?" Gisborne's voice was rough, the man inching upwards into a sitting position. Robin let him, but shook his head when the man tried to move to his feet. Gisborne backed down, relenting, knowing he was in no position to bargain.

"And if I say no?"

"Then it proves you are a fool as well as a coward," the man laughed. "A man does not help his enemies, he prays for their death."

"Then maybe that's the difference between us," Robin answered coyly, a smile crossing his face. "Men of our word…but I would never wish to be a man like you."

He turned then, dodging out the door in one quick motion. What he said must have confused the man, or maybe Gisborne was returning the unspoken favor by giving him a chance to leave. Robin was nearly out of the castle before his howling voice could be heard through the corridors, orders barked out for his capture.

They were easy to avoid, by this time Robin had already left the castle grounds, disappearing into the open among the other villagers. He didn't pause, didn't look back, just simply left, beginning his long trek back, fearful of what might await him upon his return to camp.

It was night again by the time he returned. Fear and anxiety among his men was obvious, but it was a calming effect as he stepped out from the trees and into the open space. Robin said little, his first questions inquiring about Will. The man had slept most of the day, waking up a few times in between to sup and drink, but little else. A mixture of herbs, and the plant he and Much had fetched the night before had done well to staunch the bleeding, and had even helped calm the fever that was brought about as a result.

The news was as promising as it was disheartening; there was a chance the man might not be able to walk soundly again. A limp could prove disastrous in even the slightest of confrontations, but Robin had seen men recover from worse. Time would tell what was to be, and Robin knew he had to accept it as such.

He passed a few more quiet words onto Djaq, listening between her and Much to bring himself up to speed. The group themselves hadn't done anything to really brag about. For the most part they had stayed close to the camp in his absence, hunting and gathering wood all the while awaiting his return. The questions came up to his whereabouts, but Robin disregarded them, his gaze instead on the lone figure at the top of the hill.

"Been like that most of the day."

Robin would have been embarrassed to admit to it, but Much had actually startled him. Robin met the man's gaze, masking the sudden alarm with ease. "He hasn't left?"

Much shook his head, prompting a sigh from Robin. Collin no doubt had a multitude of choices to make. Returning to Nottingham or the castle was no better than assigning himself a death sentence. Even if he left the forest, venturing in the villages, it was possible he would be called out. Dressed in the garb of a castle guard, especially one in Gisborne's line, was not favored among the villagers. If anyone recognized him as the guard Gisborne was no doubt after, Collin would be lucky if it was just his life that was lost.

"Where are you going?"

The question was asked just as he started to move. Robin turned, shaking his head at the inquisitive man. "Stay here."

"Why?"

He let out a sigh, "Must you question everything I say?"

"Yes," Much answered quickly. "I need to know if you have any more brilliant ideas that are going to get one or all of us killed."

It was testing his patience; more so because Robin was starting to believe that all of this truly was his own blame. Instead he calmed himself, a simple reminder that Much was only trying to help. "I am not going far, but you must stay behind. I need to speak with him."

He didn't give the man a chance to answer, simply turned and left, trusting that Much would follow his request. It was apparent he had, for Robin arrived at the top of the hill alone. Collin barely glanced his way, his gaze instead watching the forest that spread out below them. Not much could be seen in the darkness, but Robin knew that he was lost in thought, rather than interest at what was before them.

Nothing was said between them for a time, each man quiet and content with being lost in their own thoughts. Yet it was Collin that finally spoke, voicing his concerns into the night air. "Is he going to make it?"

Robin nodded, "Djaq says the worst of it is over; it will take much longer for his leg to fully heal; we will have to lie low for some time until it does. We cannot risk injuring him further."

Collin nodded, seemingly grateful for the answer, but his response next surprised Robin. "I already knew about Will; I was referring to Gisborne."

At first Robin was going to deny it, but as he speculated about it, realization hit him that it would not matter. None of his other men had guessed to where he had been going, or where he had actually gone. Yet Collin had seen right through the guise, hadn't guessed, just simply knew.

Robin cleared his throat, nodding as he did so. "He will live; far better than he could have been."

"Far more than he should have been," Collin replied dimly, pausing for a moment. "Why did you save him?"

"I don't know; maybe because every man has a chance to prove himself differently than what he is perceived as."

"You don't actually believe that."

Robin laughed, shaking his head as he thought it over. Marian had said something once in a similar fashion; he could not remember what exactly, but it was the sole reason she had believed in the man despite his wrong doings. He let out a small smile, turning to Collin now. "You changed."

"Not entirely," Collin disagreed. "I realized before that I had been a fool; that was all."

"And you still made the decision you felt was right, even when others about you claimed it was not."

"You were away at war too long. It's filled your head with muddle."

Robin laughed, growing more serious now as he thought it over. "What will you do?"

Collin shrugged, shaking his head. "What is there that I can do? I can't return to the castle, nor my homestead. Any prospect of living a normal life is now gone. I have only my grandmother, and convincing her to leave the castle is not an easy prospect. I may venture to the Holy Lands, see if I can find my father but that feat is next to impossible; and then there would be no one to see to my grandmother."

"You could stay here," Robin offered.

"Somehow I doubt your men will welcome me with open arms."

It was true; even now, after what Collin had done, there was still mistrust. Once a traitor, always a traitor, simply because old habits were hard to break, and treachery was a hard thing to undo. It was difficult to trust once that fragile thread was broken. But still, he had hopes. "They could learn."

But Collin was shaking his head, watching him now. "I will try and see if I can fetch my grandmother come morning; we can head east, she has family out that way. It would be enough to start a new living. She's old, she deserves to live the remainder of her life in relative peace, even if it is only an illusion."

"Let us help you then; the least we can offer."

"No, you have business here, Robin. Your men need you. I can manage well enough on my own."

He had never heard the truth spoken so clearly before, and Robin was once again reminded of the predicaments still at hand. There would be issues, many of them that he and his men would face in the coming days if not weeks. Times were still hard, and this latest setback hadn't helped out any. With a nod he relented, parting ways with the man as he returned to the camp below.

He ignored Much's questioning gaze, seating himself down near the fire instead, his gaze trained on the flickering flames. Even though there were no spoken words, it was clear there was a passive calm between his men now. Half the lot was now asleep whereas the others were lost in quiet thoughts, the familiar breaths and gentle snores filling the air around them. For once, in quiet some time, things were beginning to come back to order.

Morning was not a pleasant sensation to wake to. Not only was the ache in his body fierce, but there was another underlying sensation that could not be ignored. Will had half a mind to ask for help, but at the same time he still had his pride despite his earlier folly. It was a shame that memory had evaded him throughout most of the last day, but he could remember vividly of where he had failed.

A glance about the camp brought forth the assumption that it was still early, as did the light of the day. Around him the others were sleeping, aside from Robin who was nowhere in sight. It wasn't a puzzling scenario; Will could remember Robin's sleeping habits well enough to know the man wasn't always around. The thought only encouraged him more.

With careful, deliberate movements he was able to make his way to his feet, holding to the side of the camp to help position his weight. He took it slow, biding his time so that he would not wake the others. Any amount of weight on his injured leg was painful, and the rest of his body was stiff, making for a hard feat. But he managed.

Once outside of the camp itself, he was able to let go, if only a little. He was able to stifle most of the cries and groans, and those that managed to escape were quiet, even in the stillness of the morning. Though he hadn't it in mind to wander far, he still had gone further than originally planned, not stopping until he felt safe and secure, relieving himself a good pace away from the opening of the camp.

It was here he remained for several following minutes. He still didn't feel up to par, wasn't sure if ever would again. But already he could hear Djaq's voice in his mind, chiding him, telling him differently. The woman never gave up, and for that Will was thankful. Yet even as her voice faded from his mind, another entered; one that was as unexpected as it was promised.

"What are you doing?"

Robin hadn't taken long to appear, passing his bow from one had to the other as he shook his head, surveying him. There was a frown on disapproval on the man's face, one that cut through Will deeply. Even after all this time he still yearned for Robin's favor, and it was maddening as it was disconcerting. He didn't want to be so dependent on the man, but neither could he just break off and go on his own. Already he had tried that once, and so far it hadn't turned out all that well. He didn't get the chance to respond.

"I thought I told you to stay off that leg."

"Seems to me that you were the one dragging me around the forest just the other day," Will commented sarcastically, wrapping a hand around a tree to help steady himself, removing the unwanted weight from his leg.

"That was necessary," the man answered, shaking his head, watching him.

"So was this."

"You could have asked for help, I was not far."

"I would like to retain the little pride I have left."

"Is pride worth injuring yourself further?" Robin wondered, voicing his concern. "You're lucky that wound did not kill you."

"Safe to say," Will muttered, "I figured the fire would. How did you know?"

"Friend told me."

Will knew Robin was referring to Collin at that point, but it wasn't the true question he sought. Clearing his throat he tried again. "He knew we were in Locksley, but how did you know I was still inside?"

The man shrugged, coming up alongside him, leaning against the tree. "I guessed."

It was ironic, both because it was slightly amusing, but then again it seemed to describe Robin fairly well. The man thrived on taking chances, of using the slightest of excuses to rush into danger. It was a part of who he was, but that latest feat could have been his last, and it did not ease the guilt building up inside of Will.

"You could have been killed," Will pointed out, voicing his thoughts.

"Take that chance nearly every day, Will," Robin was quick in reminding him.

He nodded, already knowing the truth of it. But there was still something bothering him, and the more he wanted to ask the question the less words that came to him. Finally he sorted it in his mind, but his heart still beat fiercely in anticipation; he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, but another part suspected that Robin might speak untruly about his thoughts and feelings. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Did you mean what you said?"

Robin turned and looked at him, watching him skeptically, waiting for further explanation. Will cleared his throat, trying again.

"To Gisborne…back in the mill."

"That I would shoot him?" Robin asked confused now, "Obviously so, for I did."

That was true, and it caused him to laugh, but it wasn't the question burning in his mind. "You said we were still your men…even though we left, even though we did not return. We can't be both."

"You are always my men," Robin answered, his voice firm but low. His gaze was sincere, helping to banish the earlier fears Will had held. "Foolish decisions may separate us at times, but it doesn't upset the values that we hold. That's what makes us strong."

"So that is it then? We just come back, act like nothing has happened?"

"The choice is yours, Will," Robin told him quietly. "I want you back, but only if you want to be here. I cannot force you to stay."

Theoretically Will was sure he could. He had seen Robin restrain enough passing men that Will knew it was more than possible. Yet Robin would not likely follow through with it. The truth of the matter though was the fact that Will wanted to be back. Not because of what had happened, not because of his injury, but because he truly had missed being with the group. They were a family, the same people he loved and relied on.

"Where do we go from here then?"

Robin mused over the question for a while, his prolonged silence convincing Will at first that the other man had not heard, but finally he spoke, his voice quiet but warm.

"We stay quiet, keep to ourselves until you are well again. Then we go back to doing what we always have done. I may have been rash before, and I'll keep that in mind for next time. I'll learn to listen to my men, to heed what they have to say."

Will nodded, knowing to what he was referring to, forcing a smile then. "And I'll learn how to compromise; sometimes we need to take chances, I understand that now."

"I think we can work with that," Robin nodded to him, returning his smile. "We should get back to camp. The others will be waiting."

They would be…morning was now getting late, and by now everyone would usually be up, ready to start the day. It would be some time before they would fall back into their normal routine, but for now it was all they could offer.

The End

Upcoming story, though I cannot promise when:

I'm Still Here

Robin's life isn't the only one that becomes endangered when an injury leaves him struggling to remember what happened. When the Sheriff of Nottingham uses Robin's misfortune for his own gain can Robin's men help him remember who he is before the unthinkable happens?