Lost Opportunities

"Distractions? Like a little humanity?"

"Humanity is weakness."

"You don't believe that."

"You must leave this place…"

With unease the tall man walked down the hall that led to the dungeon door. His shoulders were stiff and he looked as though he was going to the executioner's block - or coming off it… He had felt this way for three days. Three miserable days. They had been filled with longing, regret, hurt, anger, betrayal, and hate. The inventory of his feelings could continue, but each one made his heart die a little more. Each one took a piece of what little there was left of his soul - down to Hades, down to hell.

He pulled open the heavy door and was instantly greeted with a putrid smell - sweat, dirt, excrement, and fear. Though he was used to it, being forced to endure the stench when he was doing the Sheriff's bidding, there was something different about the smell now. He was going down for a personal matter and had left his duties behind him - the stink was unbearable.

The cold that filled the stone walls could permeate the most close knit wool. It sliced through his jacket, being yet another thing his mind had removed itself from before. The air felt damp, chilled and thick - he had to take small short breaths to keep from being choked. Since it was later in the evening there was not the screams and groans of heinous torture, only the low shallow moans of those that survived.

He sidestepped one of the many puddles oozing from the cells - a yellowish muck occasionally mixed with muted red. His spurs clinked on the cold stone and breaths caught from those who were in the cells - weren't they done for the day? The man approached the far back of the dungeon and, ascending the few steps to the last cell, placed his hands on the bars.

An unconscious sneer wrenched itself from his lips as he stared at the occupant of the cell. The involuntary feeling of guiltiness that the man felt made him shift - he was responsible for this man's incarceration just as he was responsible for-.

The observer shook his head - no, A Dale had brought this upon himself. "Allan," his deep voice was raspy and dry from not being used. Guy of Gisborne suddenly realized how little he had spoken in the past three days. A quick 'Yes Milord,' or 'No Milord' was all that he had the will to say.

From his seated position on the damp floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, Allan A Dale's head shot up from where it rested on his crossed arms. His eyes grew bright with recognition and then they went dark - dark with a deep loathing. "Wha' is it?"

Guy closed his eyes and bowed his head, tilting it to the side. "I need your," he choked on the last word, "I need your help."

Allan's bright blue eyes widened and then narrowed, "With what?"

"I need to get Marian back."

For three days, Guy had been at his worst and lowest. He hadn't been able to sleep at all since Marian's absence. The waking nightmares of her torment drove any slumber far away, as if locking it in a box and imprisoning it on a shelf - with the key around Marian's neck.

The Sheriff had overheard his plan to smuggle Marian out of the castle and away from the clutches of Lord Winchester. Vaisey had put a stop to it before Guy even had time to think. What angered him the most was that he complied without a protest, going himself and collecting hisMarian for that lecherous old man.

Their conversations of that day haunted him. He had never felt so vulnerable as when he was gathering Marian's things and slamming them in her satchel - even going so far as to passionately tell her he had no one. He needed her to be the one thing he had in the world and she would be - even if they were separated even if he never saw her again, Marian had to know that she was all he had. How badly he wished that he had followed through on that plan.

"I'm Sorry. The Sheriff's instructions." Those were the last real words he had spoken to her, the last thoughts she had of him were of treachery. His heart cramped as he recalled her calling his name, pleading with him to save her. Once he had escorted her to Lord Winchester's room they shared one final glance - her eyes questioning his. That last look they shared, before he turned away in shame, burnt a hole in his heart. And Guy slowly felt himself seeping out from it and into a state of wretched self-loathing. If only he could have proven Marian right and showing her that he did have some shred of humanity…

Leaning back against the wall, Allan shook his head, "An' why should I help you?"

"Your not just helping me. You'll be gaining your freedom. I would think that would be worth something to you."

In a moment of defiance Allan remarked, "An' if I say 'no?'"

Guy's lip twitched into a sneer and he sniffed loudly, "Then you'll rot down here."

Adam's apple bobbing with the gulp he took, the imprisoned man hesitated no longer, "A'right, I'll do it." 'Good,' was the only reply he received as he heard the lock click and the door creak open.

Two steps. Two steps was all Allan had to take to be free. But was this freedom? Or was he running back to Guy's thrall? Freedom at a price? Allan pushed those cares aside, once he was out of here finishing his escape could come later. Allan A Dale took those two steps and stood before Guy of Gisborne - waiting for him to make the next move.

Guy turned on his heel in a swift motion and began to take long deliberate strides - he was on a mission tonight. Allan hung back, almost reluctant to put himself fully under Gisborne's control. He took another step - another step into the darkness.

With a determined speed Guy walked but his heart clenched in his chest when he heard the faint whisper that came from one of the cells. Unwillingly, Guy turned and made his way over to the small room enclosed by bars. He refused to meet the eyes of the man occupying the cell. Only half aware of that fact did the graying and sick prisoner, Edward, continue to speak - a shard of hope in his eyes, "Is there nothing you can do?" The words were more of a plea than a question and Guy cringed - knowing full well the implications of what was being said.

Edward of Knighton had taken a fever and Guy couldn't risk telling him his plan, for fear he babbled out in his sickened state. "No," Sir Guy said. The glimmer of hope died, like a drenched fire, and Edward backed up slowly and turned his head away from Guy. Gisborne felt as if a strong box had been laid on his chest - surely he had just pronounced the man's death sentence, the man who would have been his Father-in-law.

Edward needed his daughter, but Guy needed her more. His heart was shattered and his world burnt - if he didn't have Marian there was nothing preventing the monster that was always trying to rear up from within him. Nothing to make him a good man. Helpless - that was the disgruntling feeling that filled his stomach, something that he hadn't felt since his last chance for a true life had gone up in smoke during his childhood. Sighing, Guy turned from Sir Edward and, feeling Allan's presence over his shoulder, continued to the stairs.

The twain quickly entered into the main part of the castle and Guy shut the door behind them. Allan, though, almost ran back down and re-incarcerated himself when Gisborne grabbed him and slammed him into the wall of a dark corridor. Believing that he was about to be abruptly murdered, Allan squirmed and twisted as Guy's hand firmly clamped over his mouth. It was then that Allan heard the twin set of footfalls across the stone floor - guards on their nightly patrol. He relaxed and Guy loosed his hold, clamping his eyes shut in a silent prayer of thanks.

They stayed, concealed in the dark, until the solid steps faded into the distance. Pulling away and taking a glance out in the hall, Gisborne saw that it was empty. "Follow me," his voice was dark and gravely, as though nonuse had chipped away at it. Allan did what he was told, not without making an excessive show of brushing himself off after Guy's aggressive hiding tactics. This was sure to elicit an angry response from the latter, yet there was none. The brooding man had too much weighing him down to bother with petty retorts.

With a great amount of stealth, Guy and Allan snuck out to the stables - the fresh air was a welcome relief to the reek of the dungeon and Allan breathed in deeply. A shaking lad was there waiting for them as was two saddled horses, apparently Guy had been out there earlier. Softly and smoothly Guy removed his curved dagger - the lad shuddered involuntarily. Allan moved a step forward, this was uncalled for! He couldn't murder this - this - child in cold blood. Allan touched the man's shoulder, "Guy, you don't need-" before he could continue he was shaken off.

Guy stooped, his black leather creaking as he did so, it was the only noise in the barn save the child's rapid, shallow breathing. His lips were just above the boy's ear, "Speak of this to no one. Understand?" He passed the blade by the shivering stable-hand's nose and the lad gave a sharp frightened nod. Guy stood, back up to his full and towering height, sliding his dagger into the small sheath on his belt. "Good," he said. "Remember that and I wont have to waste time cleaning my knife up after you."

He clasp the reigns of his black mount tightly and walked out into the moonlit night - the stable lad cowered in a corner. Allan followed Guy's lead and marveled at the multifaceted personality of this man. He could be so tender with Marian and yet, when the occasion arose, he could threaten a child. Though Allan wasn't so sure that Giz would follow through with his intent…

It took hardly a moment and soon both men swung themselves astride their horses. Neither spoke for the entire night, each one too wrapped up in their own thoughts. Allan couldn't believe that he had let himself crawl back to Gisborne. What was he thinking? Unfortunately, Allan didn't know - however he did recognize that what he was doing was for Marian and that maybe, just maybe, this would earn him a good mark with her wooers.

They rode hard and fast under Guy's strict command, the horses being worked into a white lather as the night droned. The trees sped by in such a blur that even Allan would have lost his way through the dense forest, if it were not for the road. Guy, the anxious and uneasy lover, was not about to give Lord Winchester anymore time - he had had ample enough. The dark forest road was hard and uneven as the twain galloped - the horses jostling every bone and fiber in their bodies. Not that Sir Guy cared, the pummeling of his body let him know that he was still breathing. The more it hurt him, the better he felt - as if his own pain could take away her's.

Forever winding and twisting, the road meandered about, wearing the horses down as well as the determined riders. The air whipped past them, battering their faces and sending cold chills down their backs. Both men were putting their hearts and souls into this undertaking and both were feeling the strain of their exertions. Though Allan felt them more than his companion - the former having a slightly less vested interest in the event.

The moon was slowly dipping behind the tree line as gleams of light began to surge above - announcing the dawn. They had rode all night, covering quite a bit of ground. Guy knew that they had to overtake Winchester and that was going to prove rather grueling. He didn't care all he cared about was getting her back.

Reluctantly Gisborne stopped to rest, at the urging of Allan and the angry snorts of the horses, just as the red and pink hues of dawn peeked though the sky. He hadn't wanted to sojourn at any available stopping point, but Allan was worried that his incessant pushing would kill the horses - neither man wanted that. Guy was in as much fervor as the steeds, his mind and heart racing but with only one coherent thought - Marian.

Alas, he knew that the Marian he had known and desired was no more, having been taken away by one man's quest for revenge. What Gisborne would find when he got to her, he shuddered to think. A part of him said she would be the shell of the maid he once knew, woeful and frightened - scared of her own shadow, never mind him. Another part yet, told him that she had too much fight in her to cry and mewl in a corner and that, though damaged, she would bloom back to life under his watchful hand. The one thing that Guy knew for sure was that Lord Winchester would meet his end by the edge of the sword.

Another thing weighing his mind down was that he had willfully defied the orders of Sheriff Vaisey - only God knew what awaited him on his return. Though a part of him ached to think that the man he admired and looked up to would harm him, Guy knew that, whatever abuse the Sheriff employed, this was worth it. His only regret was that he hadn't had the gumption to defy the Sheriff sooner. If he had - oh dear God if he had - Marian wouldn't be suffering at the hands of Winchester…

Leaned up against a gnarled tree white with blossoms towering above him, stood Sir Guy of Gisborne - a stark contrast almost as stark as his heart and Marian's. They had been stopped for almost an hour and he was getting restless. One of the blossoms fell and landed on Guy's shoulder, he moved to brush it away but stopped. He picked it up and held it in his hand, his thoughts drifted to Marian and when he looked down again he had crushed the small white flower. He closed his eyes, is this what he would do to Marian? Cage her for her own safety and defeat her more in the process? He didn't know how Marian would respond to anything now, mayhap she would welcome the protection. Or maybe he would do better to let her go… He started to drop the blossom but abruptly caught it - no, he couldn't let Marian go.

Allan approached, leading the two horses who were coming back from a nearby stream. Guy was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he didn't even hear A Dale return, till the latter said, "Why'd ya want me? Not being funny but you got a whole mess of guards at your disposal Giz. Why do you need me?"

Why did this man always try to infuriate him? He didn't need to be given an explanation. Guy growled to himself, "In case you weren't looking, this isn't exactly sanctioned by the Sheriff. It was his idea to let Winchester off without so much as a fight and he gave into his wishes. I will not lose all that I have worked for on his debauched whim!" All he had worked for? Hadn't he worked all his adult years and most of his youth for position and power? These were the things that only Vaisey could provide. And what was he doing? Throwing them all away to save who? The woman who scorned him? Guy gave an infuriated sigh at his own thinking, Dear God yes - he was. That was what he was working for now.

Allan shrank away from Gisborne's outburst - though he didn't let it phase him and set about checking the saddle cinches. That would anger him more than if Allan skirted away. Guy resumed his taciturn manner, trying hard to ignore A Dale and blaming himself, yet again, for the despair that Marian was in. He was replaying every conversation, every touch, every fight they had had in his mind - especially their last…

Laying on her side, with her knees pulled up to her chest - partially for warmth and partially for consolation, was Marian of Knighton. She scooted away from the large creature that was curled up nearby - making loud revolting noises in its sleep. She felt the straw prick at her arms and legs, but tried to ignore the sting - there was nothing she could do about it. In fact, with her hands still chained together, it was hard to do anything.

There was only one thing running through her mind, Why hadn't Robin come? It pained her to think that he had given up on her and, she prayed, that there was a reason keeping him away. Deep down in her soul, Marian knew that Robin wouldn't just abandon her like that. Guy on the other hand, well he had even gone so far as to deliver her to Winchester. The thought of that man made her sick. No, Marian couldn't openly admit that, it was his actions - the fact that he had betrayed her - that made her stomach turn.

She had risked her life for Guy previously, believing that he had qualities that could be cultivated for good. And this is the thanks she received? She could vaguely account for his callous actions, after she had saved his life, he had almost been drowned after all. His pride had been wounded and he was angry - lashing out at her in his frustration. He had taken great pains later to show her his penance but now, after the Sheriff gave his instructions, he fed her to the wolves.

She brushed the thoughts of both men out of her mind, neither one of them were here - she had to take care of herself and find a way out. Of course thinking on her first and last attempt at escape on the eve of her captivity, she recalled how badly it had ended. Winchester's three guards hadn't let her get far and she was still being punished for her actions… That was why she was enduring the pitiful conditions of the barn as her sleeping quarters - sleeping next to the pig pen. The other option, Winchester's bed, was far less appealing when the two were compared. The thoughts of him almost made her punishment look tempting.

Although at night she was out of the reach of his eyes, hands, and lips, the carriage ride during the day was a different story altogether. He had not yet demanded that she fulfill the duties that only a wife should perform, but he had made himself clear that when they arrived at his manor things would change. The thoughts of his hands roving about, made her clench her teeth. Even if she did escape afterwards, what type of man would want a tarnished woman? Not a single loose kitchen wench or tavern whore ever expected to wed. And if they somehow managed to do so, the match surely wouldn't be anything respectable.

In the meantime, till their arrival, Winchester toyed with her, as much to make her uncomfortable as for his own gratification. Marian was sick of being near him in such close conditions, she loathed the proximity and longed for the time when he would leave her alone in the barn. Every time his lips grazed her face she felt the uncontrollable need to retch. Every bump on the road jostled them together and made her push away. Every time he squeezed her leg or arm she felt the need to lash out boil over.

She gently rubbed her chafed hands as she lay awake on her side, the rough bands having worn red blisters into her flesh. She hadn't been sleeping well, how could she with the trepidation of what her arrival to Winchester's manor would bring. These were the things that nightmares were made of. Marian hated the pain deep in her chest as she thought of the many things that were lost to her from the moment she left Nottingham: she could never help people who were suffering and in need, never see her Father again, and she would never be able to see Guy again. Her heart stopped, she took a deep breath and straightened out her thoughts: never be able to see Robin again

A/N This is a new Season two AU and is in no relation to my - um - 'childhood' stories. I still plan on continuing those and the AU to which they belong, but this plot just called to be written. In the next chapter, for those reading and wondering, we will find out what exactly happened to Robin. Please review if you would like - they really do make my day. Thank you for reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC and any conversations that you recognize are owned by the BBC - not me.