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It was a very quiet night at the outlaws' camp.

The failure of Tom's plan had shaken them all. Tom simply couldn't credit it, couldn't understand what had made her best friend, the girl she had grown up with, had shared schooling with, had considered the closest thing she would ever have to a sister could have betrayed her so badly.

She sighed heavily and regarded the little package Gisborne had given her again. She had the admittedly insane urge to poke it with a knife or something to be sure it was safe to open, but she didn't do it. She simply left it on the table in front of her and stared at it. She wasn't sure she wanted whatever gift it might contain.

Her mind wandered off into memory again and she was totally oblivious to the others watching her watch the little bundle. Had she really been so wrong about her husband? Recent events would seem to answer a resounding affirmative. He had kept his word. All he had done was talk. He'd even apologized to her for being such a bastard. She hadn't expected it.

He had touched her, but only lightly and only for a bare moment. His fingers had grazed the spot where he'd bruised her so badly, and the touch was feather light, almost apologetic. It had definitely been a caress.

"She's thinking about him," John muttered darkly as he got up to leave. Djaq grabbed his hand and dragged him back down and Will sat on the other side.

"Yes, she is," she stated flatly. "She is confused. She hates him for the way he has treated her, and yet this time, he not only was kind, he helped her to escape." None of them could really credit it. What had brought about such an amazing turn around? The man was known far and wide for his cruelty and for him to suddenly show such kindness and mercy was a little scary.

John growled but he stayed, watching Tom. Whatever she was thinking, it wasn't pleasant. She seemed shaken and it bothered him. He wanted to comfort her and didn't know how, and at the same time he was insanely jealous that the man was even IN her thoughts, much less consuming them. Finally he rose, over Djaq's protests and went to sit next to her. His arm went around her shoulders and she gave him a wan smile. "Staring at it won't make any difference," he commented idly.

"I know," she murmured back as she let her head fall against his shoulder. "But I'm almost afraid to open it. I don't know what he'd give me. And I don't want to like whatever's inside, because that'd mean I didn't hate him any more and I have to hate him. He hurt me, he tried to rape me, and I can't get past that. I can't."

John nodded and then remembered she couldn't see him do it from her angle. "He did all those things, yes," he said slowly, "but he also apologized. He saved your life."

"I know," she repeated. "And I should be grateful. But all I can think about is revenge." She snuggled a little closer, still watching the little bundle. It was wrapped in oilcloth and too small to be anything of much use, yet too big to be some kind of jewelry. It was a puzzle and she suddenly wanted to solve it. She reached for it, undid the string, and let the cloth fall away.

Her dagger. The one her father had given her, the one she'd tried to kill her husband with. Gisborne had given it back to her.

Did he know how much it meant to her? Was that why he'd given it back? She wasn't sure of anything any more – except the big man at her side. John'd never allow anyone to hurt her. She regarded the little knife closely for a moment and then slipped it into her accustomed place up her sleeve. Then she raised her face to his, smiling a little. "It was a gift from my father," she explained quietly. "I'm glad to have it back." But there were so many unanswered questions in her mind.

He seemed to sense her mood and pulled her closer, holding her tightly. She shifted a bit and relaxed into his arms, feeling the warmth of him now at her back, his heartbeat strong and steady.

She could get used to this, she thought contentedly. Then she felt a little tickle along her arm, where the dagger rested. She brought it out, finding a small scrap of parchment secured to the handle. She released it, slid the dagger back into the sheathe in her sleeve, and opened the letter. It was short and to the point.

My wife,

I return this to you as a gesture of respect, one warrior to another. May it continue to protect you as it has done already.

Your Husband,

Guy

She read it through again, and then a third time. He respected her? This problem just got more and more complicated. What was she going to do? She'd NEVER go to her husband. She wanted him dead and right now, that was a bad idea for any number of reasons. But hadn't he redeemed himself, at least slightly? As John had reminded her, as she was well aware, he had saved her life. Deep breath. All right, that gave him a pass on death. But she was still going to hurt him. Badly.

"Is it something bad?" John asked softly. His lips were next to her ear and she shivered at the feel of his breath against the delicate shell.

"No," she murmured as she rested her hands atop his arms. "It's... an apology of sorts. And I think... I think I should accept it." She sighed heavily. "But I hate him. And I will never really forgive him."

John simply shifted a bit, bringing her into even closer contact, and she snuggled down into his lap. "Then no more thoughts of him, aye? He can't hurt you any more. You're safe with us." His breath caressed her ear again. "With me."

She tipped her face up to his and pressed a light kiss on his lips, and then rose to leave the camp. John followed a moment later, oblivious to the snickers from Robin and Will and Much's outraged sputter. Robin also rose. "We should rest," he said firmly. "Much, first watch, Djaq, then me."

Much went to the spyhole and the others laid down on their pallets. When Robin spoke like that, they listened. Besides, none of them really wanted to intrude on their friends' privacy.