Understanding (ficathon entry)
Author: rochvelleth
Title: Understanding
My challenge: Write a fic about Much set during (or somehow based on the events of) 2x08 ‘Get Carter!’
Rating: PG
Notes: This is set in the evening following episode 2x08 (Get Carter!). Also contains references to 1x10 (Peace? Off!).
Competition: yes
---
Much sat alone outside the camp, watching as the rays of light from the setting sun turned the foliage all around him various shades of red and pink. It was a pretty sight, but it did nothing to gladden his gloomy heart. That dashing hero Carter was setting off for the Holy Land. Hero indeed. Of course, it did not matter that he had killed so many people before turning good. That had not stopped Robin from holding him so tenderly...
“Much?” said a soft voice suddenly. It was Robin, who now emerged from behind the camp’s leafy camouflage and sat down next to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Much said sullenly. Robin did not need to ask. He knew how much seeing him hold Carter had hurt him, and how much he had wanted to be told plainly that he was loved.
“Why don’t we talk for a bit?” Robin ventured, tilting his head a little to one side as he tried to catch Much’s eye.
Much pulled away a little and refused to meet Robin’s gaze. Robin always treated him like this - like a child who would stop crying if it was patronised enough. This was not just a tantrum, but if Robin was always going to treat it that way...
Robin looked down again, and began to speak in a low voice, to be sure that the others inside the camp would not hear. “There’s a reason I don’t like to talk about the Holy Land, Much. You know that. Don’t you?”
Robin’s voice sounded so suddenly desperate that Much turned to look at him, and he was astonished to see a tear glinting in his master’s eye. He instinctively touched his arm in a gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry,” Much whispered. “Of course I know. It’s too painful.”
For a moment neither of them knew what to say, and then Robin laid his head gently on Much’s shoulder. “Do you think I don’t know how hurt you are?” Robin asked, his voice choked. “Do you think I don’t know that I’m pushing you away? Do you think I don’t cry at night sometimes when I remember how we used to be in the Holy Land?”
After some hesitation, Much stroked his hair. “I thought you just didn’t feel the same any more,” he said sheepishly, now seeing how wrong he had been. With all his heart he wished that this moment would never end.
But suddenly, Robin sat up straight, and pulled himself away. His countenance changed in an instant and he looked almost spiteful. “Well now you know, don’t you? Now you’ve made me say it. Is that enough for you? Or do I have to declare my undying love as well?”
The look on Robin’s face became blurred as the tears welled in Much’s eyes. “I... I...” But he could not bring himself to speak. How could Robin be so cruel? First he made his heart melt by pretending that he did still love him, and then he took it all away again. So he did not love him. And that was why he couldn’t say it earlier that day. But why did he have to tease him?
Robin was just about to stand when Much caught his arm with an uncharacteristically firm grip. “Why?” Much asked in a strained whisper. Then he began to sob. “Why do you pretend one thing and then reveal another? If you no longer love me, do you have to torture me? Do I deserve that?”
Robin shook off Much’s hand violently. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Is that all you think about?” He tried to keep his voice down. “Well I have too much to think about right now, Much. I have to save everyone. The king, the country, Marian, the gang. Everyone. Well it’s too much!” With those last words, his voice became a high-pitched whine.
Much did not know what to do. He could not figure it out. First Robin seemed to regret the way he had treated him, then he seemed not to love him at all, and now he was complaining about his mission... Suddenly, an image came unbidden into his head. An image of a wounded man in a dark helmet. Not physically wounded, but mentally. And the helmet bore strange devices that could ease his suffering. Then everything clicked into place.
“It’s OK, I think I understand,” Much said, suddenly sounding wiser than he ever had in his life. He put his hands on Robin’s shoulders, and held him still. “You cannot speak about the war because it wounded you so badly.”
“That’s healed now,” Robin spat, trying to struggle away. But Much’s grip was firm.
“No, not physically. It harmed your mind. Do you remember Harold? He had Crusader’s Sickness. Sometimes he would snap and shout, just like you do. Sometimes he would just gaze into the distance - I’ve seen you do that too. And he had the nightmares.”
Again Robin tried to wriggle away, but Much held on.
“I know how hard it is for you. I understand! You are strong in every other way, and you feel ashamed to be plagued by the images of the Holy Land, all that death and suffering. You try so hard to fight for what you believe, but it’s such a strain on you. And you never get away from it, because when you are alone, or trying to sleep, all you see is the war. Don’t you see? I understand! And that’s why you are so harsh with me sometimes, because these thoughts are driving you mad...”
At that, Robin broke down and began to cry. It was slow at first, but the great, manly sobs were overwhelmed by a torrent of tears, and he crumpled and allowed Much to hold him tight.
Much was also crying. Now that he understood why Robin treated him so badly, it felt a bit better. Maybe the love would return, one day.
Title: Understanding
My challenge: Write a fic about Much set during (or somehow based on the events of) 2x08 ‘Get Carter!’
Rating: PG
Notes: This is set in the evening following episode 2x08 (Get Carter!). Also contains references to 1x10 (Peace? Off!).
Competition: yes
---
Much sat alone outside the camp, watching as the rays of light from the setting sun turned the foliage all around him various shades of red and pink. It was a pretty sight, but it did nothing to gladden his gloomy heart. That dashing hero Carter was setting off for the Holy Land. Hero indeed. Of course, it did not matter that he had killed so many people before turning good. That had not stopped Robin from holding him so tenderly...
“Much?” said a soft voice suddenly. It was Robin, who now emerged from behind the camp’s leafy camouflage and sat down next to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Much said sullenly. Robin did not need to ask. He knew how much seeing him hold Carter had hurt him, and how much he had wanted to be told plainly that he was loved.
“Why don’t we talk for a bit?” Robin ventured, tilting his head a little to one side as he tried to catch Much’s eye.
Much pulled away a little and refused to meet Robin’s gaze. Robin always treated him like this - like a child who would stop crying if it was patronised enough. This was not just a tantrum, but if Robin was always going to treat it that way...
Robin looked down again, and began to speak in a low voice, to be sure that the others inside the camp would not hear. “There’s a reason I don’t like to talk about the Holy Land, Much. You know that. Don’t you?”
Robin’s voice sounded so suddenly desperate that Much turned to look at him, and he was astonished to see a tear glinting in his master’s eye. He instinctively touched his arm in a gesture of comfort. “I’m sorry,” Much whispered. “Of course I know. It’s too painful.”
For a moment neither of them knew what to say, and then Robin laid his head gently on Much’s shoulder. “Do you think I don’t know how hurt you are?” Robin asked, his voice choked. “Do you think I don’t know that I’m pushing you away? Do you think I don’t cry at night sometimes when I remember how we used to be in the Holy Land?”
After some hesitation, Much stroked his hair. “I thought you just didn’t feel the same any more,” he said sheepishly, now seeing how wrong he had been. With all his heart he wished that this moment would never end.
But suddenly, Robin sat up straight, and pulled himself away. His countenance changed in an instant and he looked almost spiteful. “Well now you know, don’t you? Now you’ve made me say it. Is that enough for you? Or do I have to declare my undying love as well?”
The look on Robin’s face became blurred as the tears welled in Much’s eyes. “I... I...” But he could not bring himself to speak. How could Robin be so cruel? First he made his heart melt by pretending that he did still love him, and then he took it all away again. So he did not love him. And that was why he couldn’t say it earlier that day. But why did he have to tease him?
Robin was just about to stand when Much caught his arm with an uncharacteristically firm grip. “Why?” Much asked in a strained whisper. Then he began to sob. “Why do you pretend one thing and then reveal another? If you no longer love me, do you have to torture me? Do I deserve that?”
Robin shook off Much’s hand violently. “It’s all about you, isn’t it? Is that all you think about?” He tried to keep his voice down. “Well I have too much to think about right now, Much. I have to save everyone. The king, the country, Marian, the gang. Everyone. Well it’s too much!” With those last words, his voice became a high-pitched whine.
Much did not know what to do. He could not figure it out. First Robin seemed to regret the way he had treated him, then he seemed not to love him at all, and now he was complaining about his mission... Suddenly, an image came unbidden into his head. An image of a wounded man in a dark helmet. Not physically wounded, but mentally. And the helmet bore strange devices that could ease his suffering. Then everything clicked into place.
“It’s OK, I think I understand,” Much said, suddenly sounding wiser than he ever had in his life. He put his hands on Robin’s shoulders, and held him still. “You cannot speak about the war because it wounded you so badly.”
“That’s healed now,” Robin spat, trying to struggle away. But Much’s grip was firm.
“No, not physically. It harmed your mind. Do you remember Harold? He had Crusader’s Sickness. Sometimes he would snap and shout, just like you do. Sometimes he would just gaze into the distance - I’ve seen you do that too. And he had the nightmares.”
Again Robin tried to wriggle away, but Much held on.
“I know how hard it is for you. I understand! You are strong in every other way, and you feel ashamed to be plagued by the images of the Holy Land, all that death and suffering. You try so hard to fight for what you believe, but it’s such a strain on you. And you never get away from it, because when you are alone, or trying to sleep, all you see is the war. Don’t you see? I understand! And that’s why you are so harsh with me sometimes, because these thoughts are driving you mad...”
At that, Robin broke down and began to cry. It was slow at first, but the great, manly sobs were overwhelmed by a torrent of tears, and he crumpled and allowed Much to hold him tight.
Much was also crying. Now that he understood why Robin treated him so badly, it felt a bit better. Maybe the love would return, one day.