I started writing this story alongside "Home Fires" as a side-project. I'd just intended for it to be a bit of shameless, pointless Will/Djaq smuff, but it got out of control length-wise (if this surprises you, please stand on your head), and then it developed this really awful fatal flaw: A PLOT! So, instead of making a gratuitously fluffy and pointless smutty one-shot, I'm splitting the whole thing into sections and posting it as a proper chaptered story. I hope you enjoy it!

Warning: Yes, this is an "M"-rated story. This chapter by itself is very tame, but later it will get progressively filthier. So please be warned—the "BACK" button is right over there on your browser if this bothers you.

Thanks to the lovely MissWed for helping me (read: forcing me) to write this story and acting as a semi-beta when I was unsure of some things.

Disclaimer: I don't own the Robin Hood characters and don't profit from their use. Darn.

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o…o

The boat rocked and creaked slowly as she leaned against the rail looking down the side into the dark water below, watching it slosh up the barnacle-covered belly of the ship. The smells of old wood, of ropes, salt, and brine were intense and stung her nose as she breathed. Her sea-legs had come in just a few days, but it was taking more time than that to grow used to that overpowering smell.

The sky above her was moonless and eerily dark. Only the stars lit the ship's deck around her, casting the tiniest little splash of pale blue light amid the darkness.

Djaq shivered, the night air chilling her even more now that they were out on the open water. She thought it was cold on land, but the wind and even the air itself out here were all so much colder, and it chilled her right down to the bone. Her flimsy coat wasn't enough to keep her warm as she tugged it closer around herself in a futile effort to ward off the cold.

She was startled by footfalls behind her, heavy and long; she turned quickly to see who was coming. Being off-guard here was something she couldn't quite afford—some of the sailors and crew gave her leering, greasy looks that frightened her. She knew that none of her friends, and especially not Will, would let anything happen to her, but that was no substitute for being alert.

"I didn't mean to scare you," came Will's soft apology. He stood a few feet away from her, keeping still, lest he frighten her again.

"I thought you might have been one of them," she whispered.

He nodded. "I don't like how they look at you," he admitted shyly, looking down nervously and biting his lower lip.

"Feeling protective?" She asked teasingly, not expecting an answer.

"Yes. Very. I don't… I don't like the thought of anything happening to you. I almost lost you once—I won't let it happen again."

She leaned back against the rail, tightening her grip on the edge until her hands hurt. There had been a certain degree of awkwardness between them over the last days; during the mad dash to Portsmouth, they had all been in such a frenzied hurry to get to the port city and find the first ship leaving for Acre that she and Will hadn't had the chance to talk to one another in private about what had happened. The first chance they'd had was on the ship—there were a few quiet little nooks where they could hide and be at peace from everybody else, but they hadn't. It had been several days and it was almost like they were avoiding each other.

But of course they were.

How were they supposed to start a conversation? How could they pick up their friendship after their world was thrown completely off-kilter by the weight of those words, "I love you"? It was impossible to think that things could return to the way they had always been—the purpose of Kalilah and Dimna was to clear their hearts and their conscious of their worries and questions before they were to die. She hadn't expected that they were going to survive past morning, hadn't given any thought to what this abrupt and weighty confession would do to them.

Now she wasn't sure what to do.

Djaq didn't have a great deal of experience with affairs of the heart and she had no doubt that shy Will Scarlett had even less. What was that expression the English used? "The blind leading the blind"?

"You shouldn't stay up here too long," he told her. "Aren't you cold?"

Nod. "I did not realize it would be so cold out on the open water. Though it is not as if I could have taken any precautions—we never planned to do this." She rubbed her arms vigorously, trying to warm herself.

There was a moment of hesitation; she saw his hands knot behind the fabric of his cloak. Then he lifted one arm, taking the side of the garment with him and inviting her to come under the cloak with him where it was warmer. She saw the nervousness in his face as he waited for her to move next.

She inched slowly forward, prying her hands from the rail behind her to come close to him and tuck herself under his arm, pulling the heavy folds of his cloak around herself. Even as she stood against him, she felt every muscle in his body tense at the contact, as if he was fighting some instinctive response to flee from her. Whether it was nervousness or something else, she had no idea.

"Maybe we should get below," he suggested. "It's a bit warmer down there."

This was probably a good idea. He walked her down towards the hatch, still snuggled beneath the arm around her shoulders and the cloak she kept close around herself.

After parting in order to descend the little wooden ladder into the hold where the crew and the passengers, including the gang, were all sleeping, they stood together at the bottom of the ladder.

Another hesitation. He looked down at her with a contemplative expression before he nudged her in front of him, wrapping his arms and his cloak around her and drawing her close back against his chest. He was incredibly tense with nerves as he held her, but he fought it again as he lowered his head to nuzzle her cheek.

She could feel his breath come shakily against her and Djaq sighed quietly, leaning into him—this was the most intimate contact she'd had with him since their kiss in the barn and she revelled in it. She brought her hands up and hooked them around his arms, still tight around her shoulders.

The young carpenter was painfully shy, this she knew; he would hardly even touch her unless she told him it was all right. Even then, he kept the contact between them as brief and chaste as possible. Part of it was due, no doubt, to the fact that he was, really, little more than a boy—maybe only twenty years old, several years younger than she was. He was also simply too frightened, too unsure of himself and of what might or might not happen between them to do anything more daring. It was absolutely frustrating.

He hugged her even tighter to him, clutching her so close to his chest, as if he was trying to absorb her into his skin. Even though she hated restraints of any kind, she felt comfortable standing here, being gently crushed in Will's embrace and the warmth of his wool cloak. She tilted her head back and to the side so her nose touched his neck; instead of shying away from that little touch like she thought he might, he rubbed his cheek against her hair affectionately.

For what seemed like ages, she didn't dare move. She was both happy that he was touching her, and worried that he might shy away again.

He brushed his lips over her temple. It wasn't a kiss, but it was close.

She slowly released the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. The tiniest noise escaped her as she sighed against his neck, and it startled him. It made him seize up again, like he feared he'd just done something wrong; he drew back sharply, but kept her wrapped up in his cloak.

"I—I'm sorry," he stuttered quickly.

"No," she whispered. "Don't do that. It is all right…" She hoped that this would encourage him, but she wasn't optimistic.

He drew back from her and turned her around so she faced him, and her heart leapt into her neck. He was visibly nervous, but he looked determined.

Slowly, haltingly, he came forward. Then he quickly dipped his head and pecked her ever so gently on the cheek. It was enough to make Djaq's stomach turn flips.

"Will…"

He did it again, but this time the smallest of kisses was planted on her lips. Even in the dim light, she could see the intensely red blush in his cheeks. He looked like he'd just committed a crime.

Silence.

"Good night, Djaq," he said quickly, releasing her and disappearing deeper into the belly of the ship.

He was gone before she had the chance to respond.

She gently pressed her fingers to her lips and smiled. That was absolutely the most brazen and impulsive thing he'd ever done—possibly in his entire life.

Then her smile faltered. If a tiny, shy, hesitant little kiss was as "brazen" as he would ever be, she would probably go quite mad.

The most infuriating thing about this whole situation was that this was the second chance they both longed for. Somehow—through the grace of Allah or fate or just flat out luck—they made it out of the barn and away from the mercenaries that morning alive.

She remembered staring at him as they stood at either side of the barn doors, preparing to go out and meet their doom. To know that Will returned her feelings, the love for him that she'd been hiding for such a long time, should have been a happy discovery. After all, she hadn't thought he could feel anything but friendship for her—she was just "one of the lads" wasn't she? But he did love her. It should have been such a wonderful thing to hear. And yet it hadn't been. Looking into those sad, beautiful green eyes, all she had felt was pain and desperation, a tight constricting feeling in her chest and her stomach.

Then she'd kissed him, knowing that their first kiss would be their last and wishing, bitterly, that they had more time together, even if it was just a few minutes.

And now, through some kind of miracle, they had more time. She had no way of knowing how much time—anything could happen in Acre, and even on their journey something terrible could occur. But it was all the more reason to take advantage of whatever time they had left, while they still had it.

Djaq knew that he wanted her just as much as she wanted him—she could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at her, those long smouldering looks that never made any sense before but the meaning of which became clear now. But in the end, the trouble all just came back to him being too shy to act on his feelings. She knew better, though; it was all just a matter of finding the one little chink in his armour of self-control.

She grinned wickedly to herself. She was determined to take advantage of this second chance they'd been given. She would enjoy Will Scarlett—all of him—while she still could.

o…o

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A bit of a cliff-hanger here for you. This is more a prologue than a first chapter, hence why I'm posting it mid-week, but I hope it doesn't disappoint. No lemon yet, I'm afraid, but it is coming.

Reviews and feedback of any kind are always appreciated, but I don't demand them. Updates will come once a week on Fridays, whether or not I get them. (Those of you who read HF will remember this drill.)