Title: Where We Find Ourselves At Peace
Characters: Much, Robin, Original Characters
Word Count: 888
Rating: PG
Summary: Much and Robin come home, because after you leave, you must return.
Author's Notes: Spoilers up to Series Two finale. Alright, so this turned out to be…well, not what was intended. Seriously, you have no idea. Warning: Joan will definitely be seen again. She's got quite the back story, let me tell you. Which was in fact what this story was meant to tell, but then I decided that I wanted to do this instead. So there.
"He is the happiest, be he king or peasant, who finds peace in his home" - Goethe
I.
There was a brief period, so brief that sometimes Much thinks he imagined it, between their return home and their flight to the forest as outlaws. Looking back on it now, months later, it seems so distant and so…perfect. A roof over their heads. Warm food in their bellies. A hot bath to soak their aching limbs. Heaven after so many months, so many years, of Hell.
And yes, the material comforts had been wonderful (he, for one, would never turn down a roast pig) but there had been other things, greater things, about being home. The smell of the sweet grass in the fields. The echo of the church bells at matins. The golden glow over the village at sundown.
But most of all, best of all, familiar faces.
II.
When they return, Robin has his priorities (Marian) and Much follows along dutifully, but he has his own loved ones that he wants (needs) to see and so, the morning after their return, he rises early, or at least early by Robin's standards, and makes his way from the manor into the village.
He knocks on the cottage door, which feels odd because he is sure that he's never knocked on it before, has never felt the need to, but after five years he is not sure he's still allowed to barge right in.
"Who're you?" There is a man in the doorway, a great, hulking man, and one that Much has never seen before in his life. For a moment he wonders if this is the right house, if she still lives here, but the girls in the kitchen last night had assured him she did.
"I'm looking for Joan." He says boldly, ignoring the man's question and his accompanying glare.
"Joanie!" The man hollers, turning away from the door, allowing Much a brief glimpse at the inside. It looks the same, but smaller somehow.
He can hear her moving inside, can picture her coming away from the fire, pulling her shawl tighter around her shoulders, brushing a blond curl off of her face.
And then she is there. In front of him. And he doesn't get to say anything, doesn't even have time to open his mouth, before she has her arms around him, squeezing so tight that he's not sure he has enough air to survive this welcome.
"Miss me?" He finally asks, once she relaxes her grip. She doesn't let go though, just loosens her hold enough so that she can look up at him. He had forgotten how small she was, her head barely reaching his armpit.
"Of course I did, you fool. Five years you've been gone and here's us here all alone, with no idea if you're alive or dead. But here you are. Still just as skinny though."
"Can't say the same for you," Much teases, squeezes a plump upper arm lightly, before pulling her close again for another hug.
"I missed you." He whispers into her hair before letting go.
"Well, come in now, if you can, and have some breakfast with us." Joan urges, pushing him into the small cottage. "This is Ned," she says, gesturing to the tall man, "my husband."
"Oh." Much looks from the glowering Ned to the glowing Joan, "Hello Ned."
"And who would you be?" Ned asks. Joan laughs and lays a warm hand on Ned's crossed forearms.
"This is my brother, Much. The Crusader. The one I've told you all about." Ned relaxes visibly but Much is too taken by the description of himself as a Crusader to notice. How exotic that sounds, how heroic.
III.
"How is your sister?" Robin asks cheerfully, already standing with the horses saddled in the courtyard, when Much returns.
"Good." Much smiles, "Happy. Married."
"We'll have to send her a ham." Robin says generously.
"She'd like that." Much agrees.
"Maybe I'll come with you next time, to see her. It would be good to see her again."
"I'm sure she'd like that." Much agrees, knowing that his sister would like no such thing, but knowing too that Robin will never come. Robin likes to give hams and chickens to the villagers, to smile on them in the streets, but not to talk with them, not to go into their homes, not to be reminded of the poverty, of the inequity, that still exists in Locksley.
IV.
"You look like you're miles away." Robin says, coming to stand next to Much on the ship's deck.
"Maybe I was." Much says.
"Yes, but where?" He asks playfully. It's been months now since her death, and Robin seems almost back to his old self, just a little quieter, a little less flippant. Much wonders how much that will change once they are back in Sherwood, once Gisborne is within his sights.
"I was just thinking of the last time we did this. The last time we came home. How we thought, how we vowed, that we would never leave England again. Never leave Locksley."
"I remember." Robin says quietly.
"Was it worth it?" He asks. "Leaving England, leaving our home, and for what?"
"Which time?" Robin laughs sadly, but doesn't wait for an answer. "No."
"That's what I thought." Much says, keeping his eyes on the horizon, willing a land mass to appear, wanting to see England again, to be home.