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(Sherwood)
John rarely let Tom out of his sight any longer. After her breakdown, he seemed to be even more considerate of her, going out of his way to help her learn anything she'd need to know, helping her to adjust to life in the forest. He even went so far as to watch her training sessions with the others without so much as a growl. He seemed to be afraid she would break apart if he so much as glared at her, and she was getting quite tired of it.
It had only been a few days, but it was wearing on her. Finally, she said something. Just not to him. She didn't want to hurt his feelings. No, she went to Djaq. "I don't know what to do," she said simply. "I'm not made of glass, Djaq, how do I make him see that?" she asked wretchedly. She wanted him to see her, really see her, and not as helpless. "I can do things for myself, I really can."
Djaq gave a small laugh. "Why do you not see?" she asked in return. "He cares for you, silly one. He tries to ease your way. The things he does, he does so you don't have to. Not because he sees you as weak, but because he thinks you should not have to be so strong." She glanced down out of the camp to where the men were coming back from the road with a trunk. "He would die for you."
"I'd rather he live for me," Tom shot back without thinking. She blushed, but it was too late. "He's... he's everything my mother always described to me as a good man. He's kind, he's generous, he's protective of me, lord knows that. He's gentle, for all he's a big man, he's so gentle..."
"It sounds like you care for him too," Djaq said softly. "I almost waited too long to tell Will how I felt. It was only when we thought we would die that I could do it. Don't make the same mistake." She patted Tom's hand gently. "You should tell him."
"I don't know how." Tom's voice was the barest whisper of sound.
Djaq gave her hand a final pat and rose. "You will. And tomorrow we will go to your friend." She rose and went to meet the others and Tom followed, a little more slowly.
John gave her a strange look as they neared but then relaxed when she smiled at him. Robin was nearly crowing. "There's enough here to feed Locksley, Nettlestone, AND Clun for a month," he explained cheerfully. "And taken easily enough."
Tom grinned. "If no one was hurt, it was well done," she said simply as she went to John and touched his arm lightly. "So how much did we get, really? Is that thing full?"
"Yeah." Robin was watching her and the big man now with thinly veiled amusement. They'd been dancing around each other for days. "Must be at least 500 pounds in there."
Much shifted uncomfortably. His back still hurt and was stiff, but it was easing. "Hard enough to carry, it was," he grumbled.
"Who carries that much money through Sherwood any more?" Tom asked quietly. "Nobody wants to lose anything to us. Must be someone highly placed." John's arm had gone around her shoulders and she wanted to grin like an idiot but she wouldn't. It felt wonderful.
"Tax collector, most likely. He didn't give us a name." Robin shrugged and clapped Much on the shoulder. "Come on then, let's get you comfortable. I shouldn't have taken you with us."
Much shrugged away. "I'm fine," he mumbled.
"Much. Much, look at me." Robin's voice was firm and finally the man raised his eyes. "Don't lie to me, my friend. You're hurting. And you've been quiet, which isn't like you."
"I said I'm fine!" Much snapped as he turned away. Robin watched as he stalked into the main camp, concern in his eyes.
"He's not fine," Robin muttered as he turned to the others. "You know what to do with it." And with that, he followed his friend. "You're not fine, Much, so stop it. What's wrong?" But he was sure he knew when he stepped into the makeshift building they'd concealed. Much had his shirt off, and the welts were healing nicely. All except one, which had broken open again and was bleeding slightly. "You're NOT fine, Much. What's wrong? You're never this quiet and you're still bleeding."
"You want to know? Fine!" Much flopped onto his pallet, rolling over with a hiss when it pained his back. "When we thought we were going to die, in Nettlestone. We ALL bared our hearts to each other, we all bared our SOULS to each other. And you PROMISED to change things, once we lived through it. We went to the Holy Land, again, and it seemed better. But when we came home..." His voice trailed off and he took a deep breath. "When Marian died, you closed in. You shut us all out. Do you know how much that hurt? To know you've finally learned to call me your friend, to TREAT me as your friend, and then to lose that friendship so quickly? To see you fall back into the same old ways, the same old habits, the same nightmares and demons we fought together before and banished?" Tears stood in his eyes but he wouldn't let them fall as he faced the man he'd come to call brother in his own mind. "Did you never wonder why I was able to understand you enough to calm your fears? Why I could soothe you so easily from the grip of those horrible things that we saw, that we did? You forced yours from your mind, you said, in order to be able to save your gift with the bow." He rose then, getting right up in front of Robin, nearly nose to nose with the taller man. "Some of us weren't able to do that," he hissed. "Some of us learned the hard way to live with the nightmares, the fear, the horror, with everything that happened over there so that we could help those who couldn't. Some of us still suffer, every bloody day, from what we saw and did there. Some of us still can't sleep a full night for the nightmares. I wake up, and my first thought is, 'Did I scream? Did I wake the others?' And of course I haven't because you're all sleeping soundly. And the next thought I have is that sometimes, Robin, I hate you. Yes, I love you, I love you like my brother, but I still hate you. Because you got through this and I can't." He broke then, stumbling back and sitting hard on his pallet, weeping quietly. "I can't..."
"Oh, Much," Robin breathed as he went to his friend. He sat down on the pallet and pulled Much close, giving what comfort he could while avoiding the still tender lines on his back. "Why didn't you tell me? Wake me when you needed? I'd have listened, I'd have helped. We're in this together, my friend." He held the other man closely, letting him cry out some of his pain and anguish. "No more trying to do it alone, Much. You're a strong man, stronger than any man I know. But even the strongest man has limits." He let go when he felt Much stiffen and stood up. "Don't push yourself so hard. Come to me when it's too much. Talk to me. If you wake scared and feeling alone, come talk to me. I won't let you suffer like this, Much. There's no need. You helped me, you KEEP helping me. You give me strength. Let me give you mine in return. Let me help you."
"Right, then," Much said shakily. "If you're serious, then make up some of that nasty tea Djaq's been making me drink, okay? You said it's bleeding again? Bloody hell, that means she'll be in here poking and prodding around on it and making it hurt worse. Oh, go on, tell her to come look at it." He flapped a hand toward his friend. "You're going to anyway."
Robin gave a smirk as he left to get Djaq. "Can you give him something to let him sleep?" he asked quietly before she could slip past him.
She raised an eyebrow at him, and then nodded slightly. "I'll put it in the tea." She touched his hand and went to Much.