Being bored and still working out the kinks in the premise of a multi-chap fic I plan to write soon, I wound up writing this in the meantime. Just a one-shot about the untold story of what was meant by Much caring for Robin in the holy land. Meant to be purely friendship with R/M implied, but if you want to turn it in another direction go for it. As always - Enjoy! And please review!
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Robin of Locksley sat on the floor leaning his back against his cot. He rocked back and forth on his heels - hugging his knees to his chest. He felt like he couldn't breathe - the air was hot and sticky - and wreaked of rotting human flesh. His eyes were round and glazed, he didn't see the other end of the tent he shared with his manservant. He couldn't see anything past the sand soaked red - the life in the eyes of countless men going out like a light - brought on by his hand. He couldn't see past the death. He remembered the distinct Saracen faces of about twenty-five maybe thirty soldiers, whom he'd killed just in this one battle. He saw two eyes, two dark, overly innocent eyes - that had been haunting him for weeks. He shuddered and closed his own eyes, still rocking back and forth. He opened is eyes and feverishly swung his head from side to side - seeing one hand then the other out in front of him palms up - his hands, which were covered and dripping with blood that didn't belong to him. His hands shook and he tried to get the blood off, but it wouldn't leave him be. The blood was always there if he looked for it.
"Master?" The flap of the tent had been pulled back to reveal Much. The setting sun could be seen briefly before the flap closed leaving the tent cold and dark once again. The appearance of his manservant brought Robin back to reality like a man waking from a nightmare. He looked at his hands and sighed relieved - he turned them over to see just his hands again - no more blood…for now.
Much had been carrying two trays of food and held them up questioningly. Robin shook his head and stayed where he was on the ground. He could not eat now, he still felt sick with the aftermath of his episode. Much placed both trays down on a nearby table and walked over to where Robin was on the ground. He sat down wordlessly next to Robin not questioning why he was on the floor in an upright fetal position.
Much let his master sit and think and calm himself down before starting the inevitable conversation. Robin was still panting, obviously still spooked, when Much asked quietly, "So, what brought it on this time?" He said it gently, and it was left hanging in the air, sometimes Robin didn't answer him, and Much accepted that. So they sat there in silence for a few more moments.
Finally, and as though looking at something beyond the camp that Much could not see, Robin answered the question in a whisper as though afraid to say it aloud. "I drifted off waiting for dinner…and I dreamt… I dreamt of her. That little girl, with the big eyes… Then I just sort of… lost it…"
Much just nodded. He didn't have to ask what Robin meant, he'd heard of this girl before - he'd actually seen her too. "She haunts me in my dreams sometimes too." he stated solemnly. Robin turned his head toward his friend in surprise. His face still looked so panicked; like that of a child afraid of darkness. Now it was Much's turn to look past the tent flap without really seeing it.
It had happened about four weeks ago. The king's army had infiltrated a small Saracen village. That was one of the bloodiest battles either soldier had ever seen. That had been the one where Robin had massacred at least 25 people - the king had been challenged a lot that day. But what really affected both Robin and Much had taken place after the battle. It had been mostly Saracen men that had died - but a few women had fought alongside their husbands refusing to flee. In the heat of battle Robin hadn't remembered whether or not he'd personally slaughtered a woman, he couldn't think about anyone he'd slaughtered or else be engulfed by that madness just under the surface waiting to overtake him in a moment of weakness.
After the battle had finished the king's army had been victorious - they had killed more people. It was then, at night, that a little Saracen girl no older than three years old came out of one of the houses that had been partially burned down. Apparently she'd hidden herself well, for none of the Englishmen had noticed her during the battle. Robin and Much had been standing outside her home talking with another group of English soldiers. She came up quietly behind them and made Robin jump by lightly pulling his tunic. She didn't speak English, but one of the men in their group spoke Arabic. He looked at the others in horror and said awfully, "She doesn't understand why her parents aren't moving. She says they always told her not to talk to Englishmen, but she wants to know where all her people are." Robin backed away from the girl in fear. His eyes were round and Much (being Much) saw the revulsion of what they'd done mirrored in his master's eyes - as if reflecting back from his own.
Usually Robin had a sound mind - a steady one good for quick thinking. He always seemed to have more common sense than Much - and was skilled at what he did. Usually he thought straight and clear, and was a strong leader without fear. But some nights, like that one, and this one, anyone's mind would turn on them under the pressure.
Much couldn't explain why he understood these…turns. He supposed it was because he had his own share - like when he himself woke up sweating and panicked in the night - that he didn't become alarmed by Robin's actions. He wished that Robin wouldn't be affected so strongly. A passionate man has passionate turns, but Much knew that this was normal, if not enjoyable. He always did what he could to bring Robin back to himself.
Robin was still trying to comprehend the fact that there was someone else who shared his terrors with him. The fact that there someone else going through the hell he was going through should have made him feel worse - but in an odd Much-like way it comforted him a bit. Then the little girl's big expressive eyes flashed through his vision again and Robin broke down completely.
Robin allowed himself to let out tears he would never have let be seen had it been anybody but Much with him in the tent. He stopped himself after only a few tears, after all; he was a man. He took a deep steadying sigh and Much put a comforting arm around his master's shoulder just to let him know he was there.
"Master, you are a good man. What's done is done and if it's to change you let it be for the better. But don't let it haunt you. You do only what you have to in order to protect your king. And you do that well, amazingly well, actually." Robin snorted and Much chuckled dryly. "What you do, what you've done… somebody had to do it or else risk the king's life. Never feel guilty for being a loyal servant - even if you honor the memory of all those who've been lost for whatever their cause. It's ok to feel guilty…we all do at some point. We just can't let guilt eat away at our lives." he whispered the last sentence as though it were a secret.
Robin saw the sense in the words his friend spoke and he nodded numbly - wondering weakly if he actually had a say in the control guilt would have over his life. He sighed and wiped his face. Much is right - I cannot dwell, I have a life to live. Much stood up and looked pleased at the progress made. He offered Robin his hands to help him up off the ground. Robin looked at his hands and with horror saw a flash of red - but then they were normal again and he mentally shook himself as he took Much's hands to help him up.
Much clapped a hand on his master's shoulder. He looked him in the eyes and said gently in that same comforting tone, "Hey… This cannot last much longer anyway. We'll be home before we know it. Back in Locksley. Your Locksley." Robin grinned the tiniest bit at that. He hoped Much knew that he was his best friend - he always knew exactly what to say to make him better. He loved this man like the brother he never had. Giving in a little and causing Much to break into a smile, Robin said, "It'll be fall there soon - apple season." Much raised his eyebrows, "Apples - who cares. Marian will be wearing that lovely orange frock she usually dons this time of year." he'd learned early on that although rationally Robin knew Marian would probably be married when they returned (if they returned) - even the mere thought of her made him happy in a way nothing else did. Sure enough Robin grinned and even chuckled once in a wry sort of way. It had been a joke - but neither one felt particularly like laughing.