Title: A Moment Stolen

Author: Matriaya

Rating: probably T for some sensual elements. Nothing too bad.

Summary: a nice possible missing scene from Angel of Death (2x4) Will's distress over his father's death leads to a heated moment in the closet he shoved Djaq in.

A/N love to my beta, Glorious Clio, without whom this fic would not be written.

She could honestly say she knew how he was feeling. When she saw the overwhelming rage and endless sadness that encompassed Will Scarlett's features, it drew her back to that bloody day years ago. The day that would forever serve as a black hole in her otherwise brightening life – the day she watched her father and brother cut down by English soldiers. That look of utter destruction was one she had seen grace the features of many soldiers on the battlefield. It was the deciding moment that sent men on diving paths; the two forks being grief or ultimate insanity. Though it tore at her heart, she had to admit it appeared Will had already chosen his path.

"Will! We've been looking everywhere! Robin needs you!" She cried out, though quite honestly she didn't expect him to react with any sort of coherence. He registered her presence, that much was communicated through the flash in his hazel eyes. Was it anger? Aggravation? Something she couldn't identify, hot in his gaze, and it tripped her up. Djaq stumbled uncertainly to a halt.

It was fortunate that her reactions were muddled by the uncertainty, for if she had fought back, as her instincts normally demanded, she may have found herself at the mercy of Will's crushed morals.

"Wha…"? she flustered as he gripped her arm, and then with very little thought, yanked open a nearby closet door, and shoved her inside. Djaq had no time to cry out in opposition before she found herself engulfed in darkness.

Will tried to walk away. Honestly, he really tried. Whether it was her shouts of outrage, or the lure of darkness that so wonderfully mimicked his internal conflict, he couldn't decipher. Hell, he really didn't care. Rational thought had left him the moment he saw the knife plunge into his father's back. Now, he was running entirely on instinct. Adrenaline screamed in his ears, louder than any warning bells that may have gone off. Whatever kind of gentle spirit had before resided within him was temporarily suspended by the raging madness that now became his personality.

Something stirred within him that ground him to a halt. It wasn't a much-needed light in the darkness. True, Djaq had been his saving grace moments after his father was killed. Had she not surfaced from the crowd and lay a gentle hand on his chest, calling him back to his senses as she did, he would now be in prison for the slaughter of guards, and perhaps even the Sheriff. Any chance of light returning slipped away when he watched that murderer of a Sheriff quite literally drink his life away.

What called Will back to the closet door was more primal. It was the thought of Djaq's small body trembling with anger. Her pounding heart and labored breath was the only sounds echoing off the mildew-infested walls. Even as he turned around, and his hand found the doorknob once more, he knew it was a bad idea. Djaq was his friend! His comrade! He was not the sort of man who…

Then all attempts at reason ceased when he yanked open the door. This silenced her rather adamant protests as well. She stared at him, befuddled at his sudden change of heart.

"Will?" Her voice was unsteady. A small amount of torch light leaked in, casting her face in shifting shadows. Vulnerability was never a concept he associated with Djaq, but as he stared at her, he saw her courage stripped, and a sudden susceptibility take over her features. The darkness that ate away at his heart took advantage of it.

In one sift, jerky movement, Will lunged forward and, grabbing her roughly by the arms, kissed her hard on the mouth.

There was no warmth in that kiss, no tenderness, just the cold rush of his madness flowing into her. He needed the warmth of her against him, craved it more than anything else. The door swung towards close, though thankfully it was stopped by the corner of a grain sack, preventing their complete entrapment. The sack had slumped slightly on his forceful entry into the room.

"Will…" she started to protest, tearing her mouth away for only a moment before he backed her against more grain sacks and pressed his body flush against hers, lips included. In place of confusion, in that instant, she felt only heat, and the power and anger that knotted up his lips. Deeper, deeper his fingers grabbed at her clothes, her skin, her hair, as if it were his only link to the life he'd soon lose.

She knew he needed this rush, this abandonment. Gentle Will Scarlett, who would sooner harm himself that even a woodland creature, had this killing frenzy within him, and Djaq opened herself up to receive it, so he didn't hurt anyone else, or worse, himself. The minute she began to fight back – match his heat with her own, combat each desperate dig of the fingers with scratches and bruises (all passion-educed, though she refused to admit it) – Will's grasp on reality slowly returned.

She could feel the moment his senses returned fully. His lips decreased their plundering until he was killing her slowly, sensually. Already, her body was on fire from the onslaught. Djaq had never before experienced that level of heat which first consumed her brain, then raced through her limbs to pool between her legs. This new kiss turned her into clay. It began with a tingle that lazily tickled down her left arm. The muscles in her stomach tightened of their own volition, and a small ball of gold sunshine blossomed in her stomach.

"I'm sorry," he whispered the words against her lips, but couldn't find the strength to let her go. His thumb caressed the skin on the back of her neck, which made her increasingly weak in the knees. He killed her once more, long and sweet.

"I am so, so sorry. I never meant to hurt you."

Djaq's small hands moved through the darkness to touch his cheek gently.

"I do not blame you, Will Scarlett," she whispered, and one hand grasped the fingers that held her face captive. "Do not blame yourself."

He smiled at the sound of his name off her lips.

The sadness that cloaked him was still overwhelming, but holding her ebbed the pain a little.

"Robin is still looking for you." She grinned. "How are we going to explain that we ended up in a closet?"

Reluctantly, Will took a step back. He didn't let go over hand though but instead lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles.

"Stay here," he said, " I will find Robin and sort everything out.

She nodded, and though he couldn't see her through the darkness, he understood. He kissed her once more, fast, before he slipped through the door, and shut it with a soft thud.

Left alone in the darkness, Djaq slumped down on a grain sack, and released a long, slow shaky breath. Even if she wanted to stand up, she no longer had the strength. Will had taken it all with that final kiss.

None of the gang questioned the bruises that sprang up along Djaq's arms, nor the long scratch across Will's cheek. They simply assumed they were the result of a tussle that occurred before Djaq was imprisoned in that closet. Robin put a comforting hand on Will's shoulder before they all turned in for the night.

"Again, I am sorry my friend." He whispered. Will lay a hand on top of his, and nodded with a fierce look in his eye. No one thought any more of the day's tragedies, opting instead to drown their sorrows in dreams or darkness.

In turn, no one was awake an hour later when Will crawled silently from his bunk. They didn't notice the make-shift bed Djaq quietly set up a few yards away; and they especially didn't notice when Will lay down next to Djaq's tiny body under the blankets she'd arranged for them, took her hands in the star-broken darkness, and finally allowed himself to cry.