Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood or BBC. Only OCs and plot (post series 2) belong to me.

This chapter is dedicated to all of Little John's fans out there ^_^

Chapter 50: A Time for Healing

Willa woke, darkness covering the room. Realizing she must have slept for a long time, she eased out of the bed softly. The bed itself was a luxury she wasn't use to. Someone standing up to her family was more than she could comprehend at the moment.

Her stomach gurgled, demanding food. Should she risk it? How many times had she been punished for taking what wasn't hers, or eating more than what was allotted her? Her stomach made the decision for her. She could handle any punishment handed her. Plus, surely the great Lady wouldn't punish her family and then deny her food.

Willa silently slipped out into the hall and down the stairs. She would just grab something, enough to kill the hunger pains, and slip back to bed.

Willa stopped in her tracks seeing someone sitting at the table: one of Hood's gang, the biggest one. Willa was about to turn and scurry back upstairs when he noticed her. "Hungry?" his voice was softer than she had anticipated.

"I'll…"

"Marguerite had some food set out in case you woke up," John added, setting his work down and getting up. He poured a glass of water and picked up a platter laden with food. He turned, surprised to see her still standing. "They say it's bad for the indigestion to eat standing up," John said softly.

Meekly, Willa took a seat, dumbfounded when the large man placed the food in front of her: a loaf of bread, wedge of cheese, tomatoes, and cool water. A meager meal, a peasant fare, but it might as well have been a royal feast.

Willa's eyes looked up through her lashes at the man as she grabbed for the bread. "You're not Allan, or Hood," Willa spoke softly, so softly John barely heard her as he took a seat again. It was on the opposite side of the table, two chairs down. Not so close she felt crowded or too intimidated, he hoped.

"No," John agreed as he went back to working on some wood carving.

No? That was all he was going to say? Maybe she didn't need to know his name, Willa thought. When she had caught a glance of the entire gang, she made a quick note of who she planned on staying as far away from as possible—this big fellow and Sir Guy. Robin, too, if possible simply because his noble birth intimidated her. The other three lads seemed normal enough.

But this one… his size intimidated her.

A mouse would frighten her off John thought soberly. He continued his wood carving. "John."

Her head snapped up. "John? Is that your name?"

When he nodded Willa went back to her food. She knew not to eat too quickly, it would upset her stomach, but she was starving and had been for years.

As her hunger abated, the silence was both soothing and awkward. She enjoyed those silent moments before, but now with John, she wasn't sure what was expected. "What…what are you working on?" Willa stammered out as he continued to carve on his chunk of wood.

"Dunno yet," John shrugged. "It is something to occupy myself at night." (a/n: I know WIll's the carpenter, but John working with his hands seems to fit).

"Have you been with Hood since the beginning?" Willa asked, surprised by her curiosity. Why didn't she just stuff the food down her throat and go?

"No. I was an outlaw before," John said simply studying her.

She didn't know what to make of him, what he was expecting of her. "Are you still hungry?" John asked.

Surprisingly Willa wasn't. She had actually had her fill for the first time. "No, thank you," Willa nodded. "Why are you here?" she wondered. "I thought Hood's camp was in Sherwood?"

"It is. Allan came by to stay with Nora," John mentioned. "After what happened today, Robin wanted someone to be on watch."

"Against my family?" Willa asked startled. "They are stupid, but they won't harm anyone."

John didn't know how to tell her that they couldn't harm anyone anymore. "Marguerite dealt with them," John said softly. "There are other things happening now, too. Guy had to stay in Nottingham, so Allan and I came here." Robin insisted despite Marguerite's complaints.

"They're dead, aren't they?" the words were out of Willa's mouth before she could think. "I didn't ask Eleanor, I knew…"

"I'm sorry," John said studying the girl. She had suddenly lost what little color she had gained from eating.

Willa shrugged as she turned to carry the plate and cup to the kitchen. "You don't have to do that," John pointed out. Again Willa simply shrugged.

"Are… you are just going to sit there all night?"

"No, not all night," John assured her. He had only stayed up this late to see if she would come down to eat, some compulsion to ensure she had enough to eat.

"Well…good night," Willa muttered softly, heading upstairs. She didn't know what she thought about her family being killed, but even more perplexing was the conversation she just had. The fact she had a conversation with the large man was a surprise in and of itself. She had never spoken two words to anyone who wasn't her family or husband. She didn't know what to talk about, she probably looked a fool.

Not to mention she was still bandaged and bruised.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Eleanor scurried up the stairs ahead of Willa from her place on the steps in the hall. She had heard Willa head downstairs, and was startled to learn John was awake. She stayed back, ready to intervene the first moment Willa became fluster. To Eleanor's surprised delight, Willa fought past her intimidation of John. Eleanor knew good and well how intimidating John could be—his huge size frightened her for long. But Eleanor knew that behind that imposing figure was a gentle giant.

Eleanor scurried into her bedroom, gently shutting the door. She leaned to place a kiss on Tom's sleeping form before crossing to the window. She wanted to remember this image of Allan sleeping in her bed, in their own room, with Tom sleeping comfortably. Whatever the future held, she wanted to remember this night.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"Your face looks better," Eleanor informed Willa the next morning as she gently rewrapped the bandages. "Hungry?"

"A little," Willa nodded. "Is everyone going to be at breakfast?"

"Well, Guy is still in Nottingham, and Luke is doing something for him," Eleanor said. "But most of the gang will probably be there. They got use to someone else cooking breakfast for them," she laughed. She wondered if Willa would bring up her conversation with John last night.

"I don't know if I want everyone to see me like this," Willa sighed, helpless.

"I'll have breakfast sent up to you then," Eleanor shrugged. "It is your decision. Breakfast in bed does sound good, I'll have to convince Allan of it," she grinned wickedly.

"I don't think you'll have to work too hard to convince him," Gretchen grinned wickedly. Ygrainne scampered in with her, a bundle of energy from sunrise to sunset it seemed. Willa couldn't help but think it was infectious.

"Can I have breakfast in bed too?" Ygrainne wondered.

"You can have breakfast here with Willa if she doesn't mind, otherwise it is downstairs with the lot of us," Gretchen ordered. Ygrainne turned her large, pleading eyes on Willa.

"I'd enjoy the company," Willa agreed. Ygrainne was the only one who didn't ogle her bandages.

When it was just the two of them, Willa relaxed. "You like being here with the gang, don't you," Willa wondered. She couldn't imagine being so carefree, even at Ygrainne's young age.

"It is fun, the forest was so much fun!" Ygrainne said enthusiastically. "Uncle Allan is so funny," she giggled. "And Uncle Will made me a toy, can I show it to you later?" Willa nodded, so Ygrainne continued. "Uncle John would carry me on his shoulders so I was as tall as a tree! I could see over everyone's head!" she added excitedly. "He played with me a lot. Much plays with me now too! We slay dragons," she grinned impishly.

"What dragons?"

"The bad ones. Much thought I would want to be the princess, like Marguerite," Ygrainne explained the rules, "but I wanted to slay the dragons like Momma and Much do. Much is really good at slaying dragons, so is Uncle John, and Uncle Robin, and…"

"They all look like good dragon slayers," Willa agreed before the little girl listed everyone.

"Aunt Djaq and Aunt Eleanor are also good with healing everyone after slaying the dragons," Ygrainne added. "Did you slay your dragon?" she wondered.

"My dragon? No, I didn't," Willa admitted. Her dragon had almost slain her, she thought morbidly.

"I'll ask momma. Uncle Much will do it for you, although Uncle John is the biggest. I think he scares dragons better," Ygrainne promised.

"I think Lady Marguerite killed my dragon for me," Willa told her.

"Tante Marguerite! She is a princess and slays dragons. Uncle Robin and Aunt Marion say that is a talent," Ygrainne said as she finished her porridge. (a/n: tante=aunt)

"Ygrainne!" Gretchen rolled her eyes in the doorway. "If you are done pestering Willa, you can play with Jess." Ygrainne carefully carried her bowl out of the room and down to the kitchen as Gretchen mouthed 'sorry' to Willa before following her. Willa couldn't help but smile. To be so innocent, have such faith in others. She was envious of the little girl.

Eleanor knocked before entering. "Gretchen and I decided to take Ygrainne to the camp, would you like to see it?"

"See Robin Hood's camp?" Willa repeated, shocked. "Can I? Will Robin or anyone mind? I don't want to get in the way."

"Hardly, Marguerite mentioned you might like to see it, get out of the house. Marguerite also decided to join us, so it will probably be only us girls," Eleanor added. "We don't actually know where the outlaws are. It was only Allan and John at breakfast."

"Well…" the temptation was too much. To see the outlaws camp? Yes, she definitely wanted to go. Eleanor grinned seeing she made up her mind.

Within half an hour they were off to the camp. To Willa's surprise, John joined them, claiming he was there incase they ran across any guards or people to rob. "Ah, big bear, how gallant of you," Marguerite drawled as she placed her arm through John's as they walked down the road. "Robbing so we don't have to dirty our hands with it," she teased.

"Someone has to do the dirty work," John joked, laughing.

"If only Robin would let us get our hands dirty," Gretchen frowned. She was still thinking over the discussion yesterday. Robin hadn't answered her question, she realized. Where they to be babysat, or where they part of the gang?

Ygrainne ran in through the back entrance when they approached the camp. "I wish Jess could come," she sighed. She stopped midstride seeing that some of the outlaws were actually asleep and crept back outside, remembering the rules which included not to wake them up.

"Come on, little one," John said, hefting her up. She squealed in delight; she loved getting rides on John's strong, steady shoulders.

Everyone was up except for Robin and Much, but Much stirred hearing the voices. Robin was still out like a light. "You all lived in here?" Willa stuttered. "How?"

"Believe me, it isn't easy," Gretchen grinned. "But it is home," she added.

"Then come back home," Much muttered softly so only Gretchen heard him. Startled, she turned to look at Much who pulled on a slightly cleaner shirt.

"Why are you all sleeping? I thought it odd when Robin, Much, and Will didn't show up to breakfast," Marguerite mused. "I had assumed you decided to babysit Marion, Djaq, and Allan as they robbed."

"We went to raid a transport Vaysey decided to move last minute," Much stretched. "It was a last minute decision, not even Guy knew about it ahead of time."

Everyone was startled as Robin jerked awake, practically falling out of his hammock. "Robin?" Marguerite asked concerned but Robin ignored everyone as he practically raced out of the camp. "What's wrong with mon archer?" Marguerite demanded.

Much watched Robin walk out of the camp, recognizing the look on Robin's face, the same look he always had whenever something from the Holy Lands forced their way to the surface. It happened to him, too, and he wished Robin would just talk about it. Or at least let Much talk about it to him. But he could never ask Robin for such a thing, not now when he understood how important it was for Robin to forget it all.

But neither of them would ever be able to forget it. And unlike Robin, Much needed to talk about it. "Much?" Gretchen asked behind him. She had been trying to get his attention for a few minutes but he was off in his own head. She studied him. "Are you alright?" she asked concerned.

"Robin just had a dream about the Holy Lands," Much said, taking the bowl Gretchen had been trying to pass, not having any appetite now.

"Elle told me how Robin tries to put the past behind him, doesn't talk about it. Eleanor understands what he is trying to do… what about you?" Gretchen asked curiously. "Do you try to avoid the past, too?"

"I have to," Much said.

"Have to?" Gretchen asked confused.

"Robin can't talk about them, I can't talk about them in front of him," Much explained.

"That's rubbish," Gretchen said, making Much stare at her. "Do you need to talk about it?" Gretchen asked. "Forget putting Robin's needs before your own. If you can't talk to Robin about it, talk to someone. Djaq is from the Holy Lands, was in the same war. You could talk to her about it…" Gretchen trailed off, surprised by her own passion on the issue. "I just don't want you to punish yourself, Much."

"I don't think Djaq would appreciate hearing about us killing her people," Much said, thinking through what she said.

"You just need to find someone you feel comfortable confiding in, Much. It doesn't matter who—he doesn't have to have gone through the same thing," Gretchen insisted thinking he would feel comfortable talking to Allan, John, or Will. Gretchen continued to study Much. "Much… if you need someone to listen, I have an ear," she offered. "Or any of the lads," she quickly ammended, embarrassed.

His head snapped up. He looked over to Ygrainne playing and nodded. "Ygrainne, stay in the camp," Gretchen told her as Allan and Marion walked in, with Allan carrying Tom.

Gretchen walked out the back entrance with Much on her heels. She followed him as they walked for a bit in the woods; Gretchen thought it was both because he wanted privacy and the time to gather his thoughts. "In some ways, coming home was worse than the war," Much finally spoke.

"Why?"

"The war was awful: the constant death, the smell, the heat. Watching Robin as his friends were killed was the worst part. But the line between master and servant disappeared," Much said. "Even if I wasn't promised my freedom I would do anything for Robin, would have died protecting him."

Gretchen nodded, she never doubted that part of Much. It was so much what made him Much. She was just sad knowing he would still do anything for Robin.

"There in the war, though, I knew Robin would also do anything to protect me. Because we had become friends, brothers," Much sighed. "Coming home, it all changed. I wasn't Much, brothers-in-arms, I was Much, former servant yet still treated as a servant."

"And you couldn't tell him," Gretchen knew.

Much shook his head. "And yet, when we went back last year, a part of me was excited. For a moment, I could pretend we were back to being comrades, brothers. That old feeling just snapped back in place like the year and a half in Sherwood never happened. What does that make me if I am eager to go back to the war?"

"You don't want to go back to the war, Much," Gretchen assured him, placing her hand comfortingly on his shoulder. "You wanted to return to that relationship with Robin, not the actual war."

Much nodded. "I know, I sometimes wonder who he sees dying."

"Robin?" Gretchen clarified. "His dreams? Did you see a lot of friends die?"

"Too many," Much sighed, unloading on Gretchen. Her concern for him more than anything gave him hope and a sense of peace as he talked about the years in the HOly Land.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~~* (Robin's dream is in italics)

Robin, Much, and Carter's brother were lounging in the royal tent as Philip, Richard, and Christophe were in discussion over a map. After all this time Robin was able to follow the conversation pretty well even if it was conducted in French.

Well, Philip and Richard were deep in discussion, Robin amended. Christophe seemed more amused by his cousins than concerned. "Christophe, what do you think?" Richard asked. Robin, personally, thought it was a good thing they had their cousin with them to cast the tie-breaking vote. Richard and Philip seemed incapable of agreeing on anything, Christophe often had to intervene in their war of words before they turned into a clashing of swords.

"I think, cousin, that leading the battle has always been your specialty. Strategy, however, is and always has been Philip's forte," Christophe said, unconcerned with the murderous look in Richard's eye.

"And saving our asses is your forte," Philip said with a smile to Christophe. Robin had to agree; Christophe was level headed, calculating, and deadly on the field. In a fair fight, and in most unfair ones, his opponent didn't stand a chance of success.

A knight walked in, bowed before Christophe. "Highness, this just arrived for you."

Christophe took the letter, breaking the seal. "Besides, Philip's planned course of action will end this 6 months sooner," Christophe added as he began to read. "Some of us are ready to go home."

"Not all of us have a bride waiting for us," Richard smirked, drawing a chuckle from Philip.

"War has always been your bride, cousin," Philip laughed at Richard. "But Christophe is right, this is the most prudent course… Christophe?" Philip asked staring at his cousin.

"It was a boy!" he said jumping up excitedly. "Meav had a boy!"

Richard and Philip clapped him on his shoulder, grinning. "It sounds like we should get you home soon, then," Richard grinned.

Screams were suddenly heard outside, making Robin, Much, and the others jump to attention.

Robin woke up in a sweat. The dreams of the war were growing fewer in number and frequency, but they still surprised him now and then. And Marguerite's presence seemed to have brought ones he didn't even know he was suppressing to the surface.

Eleanor found Robin sitting on the root of a tree, thinking. "Robin?" Eleanor called out so as not to startle him. She went up and sat on the log opposite him. For awhile neither said anything. "Much said you had a dream," Eleanor finally spoke up.

"Much needs to keep his mouth shut."

"He's just concerned. You know, there is one thing you and Marguerite have in common. Surprisingly, it is something I share in common with the two of you, too," Eleanor said.

"What?" Robin asked curious.

"You and Marguerite and I… we all try to bottle the past up. I try to run away from my past. Numerous times. You and Marguerite try to avoid it, no," Eleanor frowned. "You try to forget it, put it out of your mind. Marguerite… for Marguerite it seems even more extreme. She completely shut herself off." Robin watched Eleanor as she talked. "Something I learned the hard way? The past doesn't let you go. It finds you. Sometimes literally," Eleanor frowned.

"Your father," Robin guessed, thinking of Willa.

"I'll share with you if you share with me," Eleanor said. "I'm not asking you to divulge your whole past. I just know what it is like to have this dead weight, this dread, pressing in on you." He didn't look convinced, so Eleanor continued. "You think if you can put enough distance between you and it, it won't pull so hard on your conscious. If you don't have to look at it every day, the memory of it will eventually die inside you. After awhile, it becomes habit, though—constantly looking over your shoulder, making sure you are still alone. You finally think you have your life under your control when suddenly the rug is pulled out from under you and the past creeps up into your waking mind, like a fog revealing a dream, and you realize you haven't run far enough, haven't buried it deep enough."

Robin sighed. "Remember how one of Marguerite's brothers was in the Holy Land? I remembered him, Christophe. I remembered him dying. He should never have died, he was too good of a warrior to die. He was cunning, cold, strong. He always won. More than that, he saved Philip and Richard on several occasions."

"How did he die?" Eleanor asked.

"He just found out he had a son," Robin continued. "How can you find out about a child, and then half an hour later be dead?" Robin wondered. "He had received a letter from home, from Marguerite, telling him the good news. The alarm was sounded and we rushed out to see what was happening. Another battle had started, we went into it. Christophe fought like a beast… he was fighting two opponents at once when a third man snuck up while he was distracted and knifed him in the back," Robin finally said. "I have never seen, before or since, Richard or Philip like they were when they found him. It was one of us, a Spaniard, disguised as a Saracen. He had been sent to kill any or all of the royals because there were some problems between parts of Spain and France." Robin made a sound of agony. "We were fighting one war but didn't realize that another threat had followed us all the way from home."

Eleanor couldn't help but think that Marguerite shouldn't hear this particular story. A silence fell before Eleanor broke it. "I know you know how my father found me in Nottingham," she finally said. "You don't think about the past. For me, it was everywhere. Everywhere I looked in Nottingham, I saw my father and sometimes my brothers. For months, when I first arrived, I saw him every day even though he wasn't really there. Gretchen called them phantoms. I haven't had a full night's sleep in over a decade, either," Eleanor admitted. "The past … you can't escape it, Robin. It already happened; it will forever be a part of you."

"How do you deal with it? I know you don't know war…"

Eleanor snorted. "I may not know what the Holy Lands were like, Robin, but I know something about war. There are many different types of war, Robin. Some journey thousands of miles to one, others find it in their own homes," she said, thinking of herself and Willa. Robin gave her a bland look as she was thinking deeply. "Will you close your eyes?" Eleanor asked.

Robin was surprised but curious. He closed his eyes and waited for a few minutes until Eleanor told him to open them again. He was so shocked he nearly fell off the root. Eleanor had unbuttoned the top of her dress, letting it hang limply down towards the ground. She was facing away from him so her back was fully exposed to Robin's view.

Every battered inch of it.

She had scars the width of her back from the base of her neck, across her shoulders, all down to the base of her spine and he assumed even lower. They were of various sizes, some clearly older than others; a scar from a whip marred the right side of her back.

"Eleanor…" Robin said in shock.

"You never know when an attack will occur," Eleanor began as she pulled her dress back on and began buttoning it, "what will set it off. It could be anything—something so inconsequential to something earth shattering. But since you can never guess when it will happen, why it will happen, suddenly everything, every moment, becomes an obstacle to overcome. You long stop trying to find meaning, to understand why," Eleanor said softly, only Robin wasn't sure if she was talking about herself or him anymore. Perhaps it didn't matter. "It's amazing how the other wounds, the ones that aren't physical, last longer, are more painful, than the physical wounds," Eleanor said knowingly. "Even after I gathered the courage to leave, I never truly left him behind…" her voice trailed off as she continued to look down.

"I believed everything they ever told me about myself," she admitted in a whisper. "For years, I heard how worthless, how dirty I was. How this was for my own good. I hated Allan, and you," she said with a small grin, "as I'm sure you already know. But I hated myself because I allowed myself to believe differently with Allan. The disappointment, the feeling that I was wrong about Allan, about myself…I'm not explaining it right," she sighed.

"I finally thought my father and brothers were wrong. With Allan I knew they were wrong. Then he went off with you, I knew he would… I even expected it to hurt when he left me, but I never expected it to hurt so badly," she admitted. "I tried to blame him, to blame you, but I mostly blamed myself for being foolish enough in believing that I was more than my father and brothers said."

"Eleanor…" Robin said. He was still horrified over what he had seen, he was still processing what he had learned. He knew a bit, he had heard about her father finding her in Nottingham, had guessed what Willa's life had been like, but this was too much. He had come to care for Eleanor like a sister, she was one of his men. Suddenly, he could understand her night terrors and inability to sleep through the night. He agreed with Allan: when things were done here in Nottingham something had to be done about Eleanor's family.

"I wish you could have heard Allan talk about you," he finally said. "The one thing he was fighting for, living for, was coming back to you. Believing anything less of yourself, that just gives your family more power over you."

"If something is beaten into you enough, Robin, you will believe it," Eleanor shrugged. "Gretchen helps me, has since I first arrived in Nottingham. Allan has, too," Eleanor smiled. "To my eternal aggravation, it seems," she laughed. "My point, though, Robin, is… well, I suppose It's that we never truly escape the past. We have to face it. I have no advice on how to face it. I wish I did, especially to help Marguerite and now Willa."

"And Robin," she added as she turned to head back to camp, "the other thing I've learned is that the past doesn't have to control us here and now. I'm still working on that part, though, too," she added. "Since I know you don't keep secrets from Marion and will probably tell her, will you at least give Gretchen something to do so she feels like she's a useful part of the family?" she asked as she headed back to camp.

xxx xxxxx xxxxx xxx

Willa, unsure what to do or what was expected of her as everyone else seemed to fall into confusion, was relieved when Ygrainne came back with John. At least she could play with the little girl. Not that she knew how to play, but Ygrainne enjoyed teaching her how as she pulled out the dolls that she had to leave behind. Willa handled them with care, not just because they belonged to Ygrainne, but because she could tell that they had been made with special love and attention for the little girl. "Uncle John and Uncle Will made them," Ygrainne explained as she explained their names.

"Can we play hide and seek?" Ygrainne asked Willa and John.

"I…"

"Why don't you explain the rules to Willa, first, and she can seek both of us?" John offered. Ygrainne nodded as she pulled both adults with her back into the forest. "Remember the boundaries, Ygrainne. If you get hurt or lost your mom is going to kill me."

Ygrainne nodded as Willa closed her eyes to count. She prayed she didn't loose the girl, she figured John would be easy to find.

Huge thanks to Fireheart for reviewing! Especially after a long absence on my part. Things begin to pick up next chapter as we are on the last arc of the story.