Going Home
Title: "Going Home"
Copyright Notice: All characters owned by the BBC, BBC America and Tiger Aspect Media.
Plot spoilers: Robin Hood: Season 2:13
Pairings: Robin/Much
Warnings: None
Rating: G
Summary: Prompted by,
thestorymaker
My first attempt at first-person narritive. Of course I picked Much. This has been on my hard drive for a month. I'm almost ashamed to post it. Here it is, unvarnished and unbetaed.
Going Home
by
DarkenTwisted
How long have we been on this ship? Did the last few days even happen? I sit here. I see everyone looking so miserable and I cannot say anything. All I can do is sit and wait too.
This ship is smaller than the one that brought us here. More rats though. What a choice, bad water or grog. At least the grog dulls the pain. But my pain is only physical. Robin . . . he is the quietest of all. He sits there. He hasn’t spoken since we boarded. I wish I could go to him. I wish I could say something. But what is there to say?
I loved her too. I was so happy to see them admit their love. I was so happy and so very sad. I keep telling myself, the tears I cried in the desert were tears of joy. If I keep saying that I will believe it. I know I will. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t mourned her yet. He never really got used to Marian being his.
I still can’t believe it! Why did she run out in front of Gisborne like that? Oh I so wish she was coming back with us. She would make Mas . . . Robin talk again. He cannot talk to me. Why did I even open my mouth that night in Nettleston?
I have left things so open and uneasy between us. I have no idea what to say to make it right.
He is not my master anymore. I know that now. But why does that not make him my friend? He gave me my freedom. At least I have that. I just wish we could talk.
So what now, back to Nottingham and back to Sherwood? We are now emissaries of the king? Haa! I do not think Prince John knows that. This ship creeks and moans against the tide but at least it’s dry. What will we do now that Will has stayed in the Holy Land? Who will take care of the camp? I can cook a meal but I do not know one end of a hatchet from another. I just know we will all catch pneumonia by winter!
He is just sitting there, not crying and not angry but just so quiet. I cannot stay down here anymore! Its so stifling! I head to the deck and lean over the rail. I am all alone, it is just me and all the vastness of ocean. I could just step over and let the waves take me. Oh, if only I were so brave. I am such a coward. I can only follow this man to the bitter end I know is coming. I close my eyes against the mist. I listen to the waves carrying us home. This journey before was hopeful, but now I just want it to end.
A hand at my shoulder brings me back. I turn and see his sad green eyes. "Feeling ill my friend," he asks.
"I just needed some fresh air" I reply half truthful. The awkwardness between us cuts through the thick salt air.
"I saw you running . . . " He stops and looks out at the horizon. "Are you all right?"
I cannot believe he’s asking me. After all he has been through, still caring for others.
I can only study him as I speak, "I am fine."
I cannot say anymore. What is there to say?
I just stand there. I want to hold him, to let him cry on my shoulder, to hit me and scream, "Why did it happen!" but he would not do that. He is not me.
"You ran up so fast and you have been so quiet. I was worried." He looks at me with those eyes. He could melt my soul with that look.
"I have just been thinking, my lord, s’all." It even shocks me how formal it comes out.
"My lord? Why such formality, Much?" He eyes me with such caution.
I tense up. Not here, not now, do I want to have this conversation and finish what I started so many months ago in that barn. But things are different now. I am different. The desert changed me. Knowing I was going to die made me more brave. I left the former servant, more mouse than a man, back in the Holy Land.
"Because you are no longer my master. And hopefully, if all this is over soon, I shall be a lord myself. I have been too familiar with you and that must end." The words sting in my ears. I cannot look at him and see the hurt I’m causing. I hear the pain when he speaks.
"Too familiar?! We’re friends, Much! Yes, I admit I’ve treated you unkind and I’m sorry for that. But you are my friend and you will always be my friend. He grabs my chin and makes me look at him and all the hardness I feel toward him leaves me. It is replaced with a feeling I no longer want but need at the same time.
I look at him feeling the tears behind my eyes, "I wish I never brought us to that barn, that Djaq never made us open our souls. I cannot undo it. And now - this. If only we got here sooner. If we were able to catch the sheriff sooner . . . " He puts a finger to my lips, just like he did when I was a child and I talked too much. I look at him, at his eyes and I calm. He places his damp forehead to mine.
"I do not blame you for any of that, old friend. What happened - happened . . . and it would have not made any difference how fast we got to the Holy Land." I feel his hand at the back of my neck, so familiar and welcome as he speaks, "You spoke up against the way I treated you and I expected that from my friend. My only regret is you should not have had to. I have betrayed our friendship and I will always be remorseful for that. But I need you as a friend, now more than ever. I will try to be better."
I smile shamefully at his words. He has lost everything he had hope for, and now he is once again comforting his former servant. I wish I could comfort him instead. Those words should be my words.
"I will always be your friend," I reply, feeling his breath against mine.
Oh, I wish he would not do this to me. That I could take this for what it is, like any other friendship with any other man. But this is Robin and I cannot. No one, and certainly no other man, makes me feel like this.
My mind says it is wrong, especially now that he will forever belong to Marian. But my heart, oh my heart, betrays me. I cannot help but wonder if I were the one taking the sword for the king, would he have cradled me till my last breath. I would like to think so. Now I can only watch as he twists in silent agony and makes his dark plans of vengeance. I will go with those plans. I say the words before I stop myself.
I can feel my cheeks immediately redden before the words finish coming out, "I love you, Robin."
He tenses for a moment and I wish I can take them back. I am in the barn all over again, fumbling for more words to fix the wounds my previous words opened. He speaks and it is my turn to tense, not at the tone but the unfamiliarity. It is raw and honest and the sound of a man reaching out for anything to stop the pain.
"I love you too, Much." Maybe it’s not the same kind of love but it is an affirmation.
He pulls me in tight and holds me close. I can feel the desperation underneath the noble pride. I smell his skin and feel his hair against my cheek. I wish the embrace would last forever but he lets go.
"Let us go back below before we catch our deaths." He takes my hand and we head back down. A streak of something almost knocks us to the deck. Allan a ‘Dale is as green as the forest and running for the railing. His hands are over his mouth and his blue eyes wide with fear. We both wince at the sound of sick behind us and I return the amused look of my friend. I still do not trust Allan, but having him back will certainly make Sherwood more interesting.
"Guess I will make another batch of ginger root tea," I sigh, as I make my way down the stairs.
"I have a feeling he is not the only one who needs it." Robin says, as he barely dodges Little John, in his own race to the deck.
We laugh and it feels good. I almost forget what lies ahead. England will be before us all too soon. Tonight I will tend to the sick and finally, when I sleep, I will dream of going home.
FIN