A/N: So I said at the beginning that this story is set season two-ish. To avoid confusion I'm going to specify this a little. It is obviously after Will's father was killed, but - as Allan is still with the gang - before Robin finds out about him betraying the outlaws. I'm usually not somebody who feels the absolute need to stick to a certain fixed chronology regarding episodes (as we are going away from canon anyway), but I'm still putting it here this way, so it's clear where I'm coming from :)

Thank you for your comments, and thanks to Emmithar for the beta and putting up with all of my ramblings!

Chapter 4: Out of Time

The forest was dark. Only their torches showed them the way through the underbrush. Robin was leading the little group, Djaq following close behind him, deep in thoughts. She knew that what Allan had reported concerned Robin. He had made it clear that Will was their first priority, but she could imagine that the other issues were eating away at him as well. Allan had told them about the tale that was going around in the villages, and it did not bode well. There would be disappointment, if not resentment on the side of the peasants, if they believed the story. They had no reason to expect the outlaws to act as that tale told them, the outlaws always having tried their best to help. But what the men who had witnessed the burning of the grains reported would create a strong picture in their minds as well.

Robin had not let any discussion even start on this topic back at camp. Djaq knew they would have to do something about it later, if it turned out that Allan was right and that people really believed what they heard. Robin and his men would have a hard time helping them, if they did not have their trust. Djaq wondered what the detail about the food being poisoned would do for the rumors going around. She guessed that it might frighten the people and might make them reluctant to accept any more food from the outlaws if they heard that they had nearly received supplies that could have proved fatal. If they really needed to explain themselves though, they would have to bring up the fact.

For now, saving Will was urgent, anything else had to wait, which was why Robin had avoided any discussion about the matter. They were well on their way to Nottingham now. They would be close to the town long before the sun would rise, and would try and come up with a plan then to sneak in.

Robin stopped suddenly, sure to have heard a sound that was not supposed to be there. Djaq came to a stop as well, Allan bumping into her, cursing.

"Sorry," he added quickly.

Robin hushed him, listening and Djaq heard Much and John coming to a stop behind them. They stood there, unmoving and silent for a few moments, listening intently, but there was only the wind rustling through the trees and the breathing of the men beside each one of them.

Finally Robin shook his head and moved on. The interruption had brought Djaq's mind fully back to the task at hand. She knew they could not let their thoughts wander to other problems; problems that would maybe not even needed to be dealt with as time went by. Saving Will was what they had to do now. Getting into Nottingham unseen was what needed to be done to do that.

She was sure they would be able to come up with a way to get into the town, they had done so many times before. Of course, as they had discussed earlier, the sheriff would expect them to come for Will. This was actually something they even had to hope for. If the sheriff knew they would come for Will, he had at least a reason to keep Will alive for the time being. Djaq once again felt sorry that she had not addressed the injury with him. She was not sure how much she could have done, as she had not actually seen it, but all of them could have paid more attention, ensuring the injured man was able to flee as well.

They stepped several more times on their march and one of these times Djaq came forward to Robin's side, conscience and doubts about the sheriff's plans on her mind, just as well as question as to Will's current faring.

"How are we going to save Will?" she asked quietly.

"We go in, we get him, we get out," Robin replied simply, his voice subdued as well.

"This is not much of a plan."

"Not yet," he admitted.

She nodded. "I trust you will find a way."

He gave her a silent nod, before he moved on. She wondered what exactly had happened. They were rather sure now that Will had been caught, but they did not know about the manner. She wondered if he had been hurt even worse than before, knowing that nobody would care for his wounds in the sheriff's dungeons. She wondered if they were torturing him to give them information about Robin, many of the cruelties she knew humans to be capable of wandering through her mind. Finally, she banished these thoughts, trying to focus on their march and on thinking of a way into the castle.

After several hours of walking, they could see the castle of Nottingham rising up in the distance. More precisely, it were small lights that were shining inside the castle walls that they were able to see, the night not yet gone. The gang came to a stop, putting out their torches, so as not to draw any random traveler's attention to their presence. They shared a small meal, not knowing when they would have the next opportunity, the sun appearing over the horizon before they were finished.

"So how are we going to get in?" Allan asked, taking a gulp from his flask.

"Today's market day," Much suggested, "we could go in with the peasants who'll come to sell their goods."

"I doubt there are going to be many who have anything left to sell," Robin said.

"It's not like we have anything either, now do we?" Allan grimaced, showing his empty pockets for emphasis.

"We should have slaughtered the oxen," Much sighed.

Djaq remembered that Much had brought up that idea again when they had been piling up the grain, getting ready to set a fire to it, but Robin had decided against it, unwilling to stay in that clearing for all too long. They could have taken the oxen and killed them later, but the arrival of the guards had made flight their first priority, the animals being left behind to be taken by the sheriff's men.

"We have nothing to sell," she agreed. "So we go with the ones who have nothing."

Robin nodded. "We're going to join the beggars outside of town. We will find a way to slip in from there."

"Robin," John spoke up, pointing at the sun that had already made part of its daily way on the sky. "No time."

"I know," the archer said, "but we cannot fight our way in. We have to be careful getting in, we're going to raise the alarm once we get to Will anyway. So we're going to have to fight our way out. We can't alert them too soon."

Nobody spoke against his words and they set off towards the town, Djaq now trailing the others. The closer they came to town walls, the more her thoughts returned to Will. It was one of these times that she wished she knew more, that she had more knowledge about mankind, about his body and soul, about ways to heal. She felt herself to be limited in knowledge, too limited by far. It was at this point she stopped, almost at the top of the elevation close to the town that the gang was just crossing. She opened the small bag she was carrying, checking its contents. She had herbs that lessened pain, herbs that slowed bleeding and such that would make the heart beat strong. She could use all these, but she knew there could be so many cases where none of these would bring any help anymore. She closed the bag and looked up to see the other outlaws some way ahead of her.

She had to join them and do the best she could.

The sheriff had awakened even before the sun had risen over the horizon. The day's promises were far too good to stay long in bed. With the help of several servants whose working speed had increased with the volume of his voice, he had dressed and broken fast quickly.

Reinvigorated he had then called in the first visitor of the day. The man was the spy he had set to follow the outlaws the last two days and who had stayed in Locksley the previous night, ordered to set off to return to Nottingham early in the day.

"My Lord," he said with a bow as he entered.

"So," the Vaysey started, leaning back luxuriously, determined to enjoy, "what are the peasants talking about?"

"There are several stories going around," the spy reported. "The core of the stories is the same: Robin Hood and his gang of outlaws stole Nottingham's winter storage and then burned it all in the forest."

The sheriff smiled, the expression slowly evolving into a broad grin. "Now that will show him!"

The other man remained calm. "The stories differ on how much was stolen and whether the outlaws kept some of the food for themselves or destroyed it all."

"Good, good," the sheriff clapped his hands, "if they are discussing the details, they won't doubt the basics of it."

"Yes, my Lord."

Vaysey looked thoughtful. "Are there any... rumors about the... quality of the food?"

The man shook his head only slightly. "No, my Lord. The claim that it was poisoned did not catch on. The peasants saw with their own eyes that the food was given to the fire. They did not see any signs of it being of a fatal quality."

"Perfect." He was satisfied. There was still the possibility to blame Hood for it if any rumors about a poison would appear after all, but for now it was good enough to have the villagers believe the outlaws destroyed it out of the darkness in their hearts. Vaysey knew that if you wanted to get to the frogs, you would have to first dry out the lake. Now Gisborne, if he had told him this, would have believed it meant he had to cut down every single tree in the forest. The sheriff knew it was a different kind of water that had to be dried out.

It was the wave of popularity the outlaw enjoyed with the peasants. Once rid of this, the people would have no noble-minded man left to turn to and give them false hopes. They would labor under the conditions the sheriff set, would pay their taxes and otherwise endure their place in life. Hood would be hit by this even more so. Vaysey could not imagine living in the forest year in year out. It had to wear down any man. The only reason Hood could have to still keep going on with it, to still fight against what was the rightful order, was because he believed he was helping the people he wanted to be loved by. He would be utterly destroyed; the sheriff was determined on that.

"What about Nottingham? What did you hear when you came through town?" he further asked his spy.

"The same stories are going around here," the man answered. "People appear to be angrier here though, as it concerns food that was supposed to be for them."

The sheriff nodded in quiet enjoyment. This would be useful. "And the men I selected. They are doing their job?"

"Wonderfully so, My Lord. They will be ready to take action later and people will follow their example."

Ideas formed in the sheriff's mind, promises of more enjoyment on this day and during the ones to come. He almost forgot about the man that was still waiting for further questions or being dismissed. He would have the man stay at the castle for now, or, it actually seemed a better idea to send him back to the villages where he could keep listening in on the stories. Vaysey would be able to deal with the people of Nottingham on his own. He would give them food for many more stories to come.

"You may leave," he told the spy and the man bowed, before walking out of the door. Vaysey lifted the cup that had so far stood in front of him, untouched. He took a sip, thinking of the other lackey he had ordered to report on a whole different matter. Once this man would come to bring his report, the sheriff would set to work in earnest. This thought reminded him of an unfinished task he had left in the dungeons, as he took another sip. The outlaw would not be needed anymore soon. Another savory sip of wine filled his mouth, the picture of the wretched man on his mind. There was something strange about it. A connection he couldn't quite make…

The next moment he spat out the wine, dropping the cup with a splatter.

"Guards!" he yelled, as the memory came back to him. He had known the outlaw felt familiar and he had known that it was not only, as Gisborne had presumed, because the man belonged to Hood's gang. He remembered the face now. It was the imbecile bastard who had poisoned him not long ago. He had almost died a way too early, pointless death then. It was Hood who had saved him and the anger still burned inside of him when he thought of it.

Guards were running into the chamber now, looking for a danger to the man who was calling for them.

"Get the outlaw from the dungeons! I want to see him hanging!" Vaysey yelled at them, jumping up from his chair. "No, wait, I am going to drag him to the gallows myself!"

He hurried out of his chamber, guards on his heels. He almost ran down the stairs on the way to the lowest level of the castle. When he burst into the dungeons, the jailer was startled, dropping a sharp object he had been admiring.

"Get me the outlaw," the sheriff told him, still in rage. The other man scrambled away, Vaysey following behind him to the cell that housed the murderous scum.

"Get him out," he yelled and the jailer opened the cell quickly, two guards streaming in to drag the prisoner out. The sheriff turned to the other guards standing behind him. "Tell the hangman to get the gallows ready! And fast!"

The outlaw struggled as the men pulled him out of the cell. Vaysey could not be sure in the dim light, but he thought the man looked paler now than before. It did not mute his temper.

"You think you can poison me, the Sheriff of Nottingham?" he charged at the man, who was still struggling and managing one or two hits, before the guards had the sense to bind his hands.

"So you remember," he said simply, once he had realized that struggle was pointless now.

"I'm going to have you hanged. And drawn! And quartered!"

"You killed my father. Did you expect to not pay for that?" the man retorted in a stubborn voice that still contained something else that Vaysey intensively hoped to be fear.

"Get him to the gallows! Now!"

The guards dragged the outlaw away and the sheriff followed them, thoughts of the upcoming hanging soothing his anger. When they appeared outside, the hangman was still busy hastily preparing the rope. He glanced at the sheriff nervously, and finished his task with a last strong pull to fix the knot of the noose. He then prepared the small stool they would place the outlaw on, while the guards dragged the man forward, who had started struggling again on seeing the noose.

"You thought there was time for Hood to come and save you, didn't you?" Vaysey mocked. "You took that away from yourself with your own actions. I might have let you live long enough to die together with the whole lot of you, but as things are, you are not going to live to see them joining the entertainment!"

The guards pushed the man forward to where the hangman was waiting. Vaysey thought it somewhat of a pity that he hadn't had time to round up more of an audience for the hanging. The people of Nottingham surely would have enjoyed watching the execution of one of the outlaws about whose deeds they had recently heard so much. But the sheriff was not ready to let the man live longer than needed to put that noose around his neck.

Another man, lean and quick, hurried up to him. He stopped several feet away, bowing. "My Lord," he said breathlessly.

The sheriff turned away from the outlaw, frowning at the other man until he recognized him. "What is it?"

"They are there," the man said quickly. "Hood and his men. They walked right into our trap."

"Marvelous," the sheriff clapped his hands. "Have you all heard?" he called loudly. "Hood is caught! Hood and his entire gang of outlaws!" He paused briefly to pinch himself, making sure it was not a dream. This day was just getting better and better, well, save for the scum that was waiting to be executed.

He turned back to the outlaw who had now set on what he seemed to believe was an expressionless face, but Vaysey knew the signs of fear of the wretched souls who were about to be killed. "You have heard it," he told the man with glee. "Your outlaw-friends are going to join you soon!" He smirked, turning back to the messenger who had brought him the news about Hood. "Get me my horse!" Then he looked at the hangman. "Proceed with the hanging," he said with mock solemnity.

While he was waiting for his horse to be brought to him, he watched the outlaw being positioned on the stool that the hangman would push away later to let the man drop to be strangled. Then a guard arrived with his horse and the sheriff mounted it with a satisfied smile. "Do not wait for me," he told the hangman. "I am going to greet our next guests who will require your services."

Vaysey drove his horse, riding out of the castle yard. Elevated, he glanced back to the gallows one last time to see the hangman pull the hood over the condemned man's head. Then the sheriff hurried his horse, off to welcome the others, and of course, give them the news that they were all too late to save their friend, which would provide an even better picture to be enjoyed.

TBC