Guy was tending the fire when he saw Will looking out from the door of the hideout again. It was easily the fifth time in the last two hours. Sighing, he rose, walking a few steps to lean his arm against one of the low-hanging supports that crossed just above head-level.
"I don't think watching for them will make them come any faster," he said.
"If they're coming at all," Will said, his eyes still fixed ahead on the darkness outside. The rain made for a loud, steady roar outside, and the only light that seemed to come from outside was the occasional flash of lightning. "Weather like this...might be stuck in Locksley."
"So, you acknowledge the weather is bad enough to keep the others inside, and yet you insist on standing in it." He snorted to himself. "And here I was, thinking you were clever."
Will turned around to him, and sure enough, his clothes seemed to stick to him from the rain that had soaked through them. His hair was similarly flat, not that he seemed to care. He'd gone outside once already, claiming that there was a leak that he could only patch properly from the outside. Guy'd toyed with the idea of stopping him, but he was an adult, and as long as he wouldn't be doing any beam-walking, Guy was confident he could manage.
Now, though, with the cool nearly enough to solidify Guy's breath in front of his face, it seemed to him it was time to get the young outlaw out of the rain.
"You thought I was clever?" Will said.
"Thought. That was before you went out in the rain."
"You would rather the rain came in here to us?"
He had a point.
Rather than admitting that, though, Guy just rolled his eyes and pushed off the beam. "Close the door and dry yourself off. It's late, and I'm done playing nursemaid. Time to sleep."
That got Will's attention, and he reached up to pull the door down. The sound of the rain was substantially quieted with the change, and now that the wind had been blocked out, it was far warmer as well.
Not that Will seemed to care about any of that. "Nursemaid?" he said. His voice still had that same reserved quality, but Guy could hear the indignation in it well enough. "I'm no child."
"Of course. I only need to scold you for playing the rain and keep you from climbing on tall surfaces. Nothing like a nursemaid at all."
"I don't need looking after, Gisborne. You and yours saw to that."
There was no missing the bite in those words. The indignation was gone, replaced by a restrained anger that made those blue eyes of his go cold. Guy knew that look…he'd seen that look before in those same eyes.
This was the first time it really bothered him, though.
"What are you getting at? 'Me and mine?"
Looking up at Guy through his water-matted hair, Will shot the other man a look that somehow managed to speak volumes without answering Guy's question in the least. All the same, it was clear the conversation was over. He'd pegged Will as the quiet type; it seemed he'd been right.
He also didn't seem like the type to stand around, because after a short moment, he started putting out the torches in the more remote parts of the hideout. The single fire pit was all that gave light to the area by the time he was finished.
Guy assumed that meant it was time to go to bed. Frankly, he was alright with that. He had no desire to sit in silence or try to pry an answer out of the younger man; his demons were his to bear if he chose to bear them, and there was nothing Guy could (or, at least, would) do to relieve them against his wishes. If Will wanted to talk, then he would listen, because after everything he had done – and no doubt Will had suffered at his hands just the same as the rest of Robin's merry band – he owed him that much. That was where the obligation stopped, though, and rather than trying to break the silence, he chose to take advantage of it. He was tired, it was quiet for the first time in weeks, and the rain was pattering a sort of soothing rhythm outside.
Seemed to Guy like that was his cue to try to catch some sleep.
Some time later, though, it became more than evident to Guy that sleep wasn't going to come easy that night…if it even came at all. There was something that just didn't sit right with him. Lying there in his bunk, he felt a sort of weight in his chest, a sort of tingle at the back of his neck. There was something the matter, only he couldn't put his finger on it.
He was inclined to blame Will. The younger man had yet to settle in for bed, moving around the hideout. Only the argument didn't quite hold up when he got to thinking about it. Yes, Will was moving around, and he could hear him, but he was awfully quiet. Guy had slept through Robin and the others – Much, especially – being far louder and far more disruptive without too much trouble.
Still, he couldn't help wondering what it was Will was up to. He'd been the one to douse the torches, so Guy had thought that meant he was ready to turn in. Instead, by Guy's best auditory guesses, he was sitting over by that table. He'd heard the lock to the trunk click a little while ago.
A few minutes had passed before he'd heard the hinges creak open. It was clear the chest hadn't been opened in some time, and the cold air had made the metal contract. All the same, the noise wasn't deafening or even loud enough to make Guy stir, nor was the rustling that followed. It was hard to tell what all was in the chest, and Guy, lying in a bunk in the far corner, didn't have much of a vantage to see it from. Not that he even had any interest in looking.
Well, at least, he hadn't. He hadn't cared much at all for a while…but then minutes had passed. Seconds ticked by like eternities, and an odd sort of silence had fallen over the room. There wasn't even anything rustling from the trunk, no clothes shifting, just the sound of the rain beating down on the top of the hideout.
…but then he heard it.
It started softly, faintly…more like a short catch in the ongoing sounds rather than one of its own. As Guy listened harder, though, he started to hear it better. Perhaps it was getting louder…no, it was definitely getting louder. The catch, the interruption, became a noise of its own, stifled but individual from all the other noises.
He couldn't tell what it was at first. It was a familiar sound, but it wasn't one that Guy himself was exposed to enough to know instantly. It took thinking…observation…keen listening. Only then did the other attributes begin to make themselves known to his ears.
Soft pants in rapid succession. The sound of leather boots creaking. A voice, raised in pitch but muted in volume…it was muffled behind something.
Finally, Guy gave up on trying to decipher it. The source didn't readily come to mind, so instead, he pushed himself up on his elbow. Swinging his legs over the side of the bunk, he stood, taking care to duck his head under the bunk just above him. As quietly as he could manage – because it felt to him as though a spell had been cast in the place, listening to that sound, and a single scuff of his bare feet on the ground or creak of wood would break it – he walked into the main area of the hideout. Towards the fire…
Towards Will.
And at last, as Will came into sight, he knew what that sound was.
Will was on his knees in front of the trunk, his head bowed so that Guy couldn't see his face. He didn't need to, though. The shaking of his shoulders and the rocking of his curled-up form…it told Guy enough.
He was crying.
From the looks of things, he was trying not to – or at least, trying not to be heard – and it was a noble effort, but…even from where he was standing, Guy could see his pain. It was so intense, so complete that Guy himself nearly felt it.
He didn't know how to act, so he didn't think about it. Instead, he let his bare feet lead him of their own accord across the room and over to stand behind him. From the new vantage, he was able to see that though he had one hand clutched to his mouth like he was trying to silence himself, the other clutched something to his chest. A bag…a satchel, really, leather and engraved with patterns he recognized to be Turk. Whatever it was, it must have held some meaning that Guy didn't understand, because Will was so fixated on it that he hadn't even noticed Guy's approach.
This…this was an area with which Guy had some experience. There was more than the odd occasion where he'd found himself acting all too similar with some old trinket of Marian's. That pain he heard in Will's stifled voice, that agony he saw straining every single fiber of his being…that was the pain of loss.
"That was hers, wasn't it?" The words slipped out before he could stop them, and Will jumped like he'd been shot. The movement was violent enough that he actually fell back, landing on his ass on the hard floor with his knees pulled up to his chest. His eyes were wide, red-rimmed, and brimming with restrained moisture as they stared up at Guy, equal parts confused, startled, and suspicious.
But then they flicked down to the satchel in his hands, and all of that gave way to an ache so fierce Guy felt as though there was a chain around his own heart squeezing it in sympathy for Will's.
It seemed Will had nothing to say, so Guy prompted him again. "The woman you lost before you came here. The one you loved."
"What would you know about love?" Will snapped, his voice raw and hitched.
Had the circumstances been any different, Guy would've been offended. What did he know about love? About loss?
Everything.
But this wasn't a genuine question. Even if this man had every right to question his humanity, there wasn't an ounce of implication in the tone. It was only pain, only misery; he was lashing out. Guy knew better than to rise to it. In the face of a maelstrom, the stone faired best. Getting agitated would only make things worse, so instead he folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the support column behind him, hoping instead for a more nonchalant approach.
"Who was she?" he said.
For a long time, Will didn't speak. His fingers traced the etchings in the leather and his eyes couldn't be lifted from the well-worn surface.
But just when Guy thought he wouldn't speak at all, he broke the silence. "Djaq," he said. "Her name was Djaq."