Title: Suffering Enough
Author: reef
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Ensemble, Robin, Much
Pairing: None intended but it's there if you want it.
Summary: For how long will the Crusades continue to haunt he soldiers that faught?
Authors Notes: This is an AU and my first Robin Hood fic. I did a little research and found that the story line for the show matches up perfectly with the time line for the movie Kingdom of Heaven, and that the movie itself is actually quite historically acurate. So consider this a crossover if you like but most of the stuff about Hattin is actually considered historical fact.
WARNINGS: Mentions/infers torture. War. I didn't intend for this to be SLASH but if you're into that then it's really up to you, it's there if you want it to be.
Written: 9/06/07

Suffering Enough

Much looked over from the fire as his Master stirred again. He watched for a minuted but Robin didn't wake. The archer's face looked pained and Much new only too well what kind of dreams plagued his friend this night.

Looking around their small campfire, Much saw that he was not the only one who had noticed Robn's distressed state. Little John, noticing Much's scrutiny, looked away from Robin and sighed deeply, shaking his head. John had voiced his fears with Much before, wondering for how long the two young men would have to live with the Holy War plaguing their daily lives.

Much had wondered the same thing himself many a time. Every time Robin dreamed he could not get the thought to leave his mind.And those dreams, they were becoming more frequent. There was barely a night where, if he was awake, Much did not hear his Master quietly murmering in his sleep, shifting in the dry leaves. Waking too suddenly.

They had faught with Gisbourn's men just the day before and Much had seen something on Robin's face that he had not seen since the Holy War. They had not killed any of Gisbourn's soldiers but this ime it had been a near thing. And when the fight was over, it seemed as though Robin had suddenly awoken from one of his nightmares.

He turned his attention back to his Master and saw him arch slightly off he ground as if he were lying on a rock that was digging into is back. As he came to rest again his eyes shot open and his breath came to him in short sharp gasps. He looked around in cofusion before is eyes lit on Much beside him at the fire's edge and he visibly relaxed.

"Acre, again?" Much asked quietly.

Robin shook his head slowly but said nothing for a moment.

"Hattin... the camp." He finally replied, throwing an arm across eyes.

Much nodded without replying. Robin knew he did not have to explain further to his friend. He remembered all too well himself how the battle at Hattin had ended. He was not without his own scars from the Holy Land and many of those had come from Hattin by the Sea of Tiberias. They had only been in Jerusalem for two months before the death of King Baldwin, and with Guy de Lusignan made the new King of Jerusalem by Baldwin's sister, now Queen Sibylla, the entire Kingdom was disordered and devided. His Master had made the decision to fight with Balien, Barron of Ibelin, a man about heir own age and who seemed to share Robin's ideals for the land they now trod.

The Saracen King, Saladin had fought with experience that only comes from knowing ones own land. At Hattin, his army had struck as King Guy had ordered his troops in a move that took them away from fresh water. Devision amongst the King's favoured Barrons had cost them heavily that day. Balien's division had made up part of the rear guard but that had not spared them from a similar fate as the forward troops. Giant smokey fires covered the Saracen advances and soon the sands were soaked in blood. By the end, many of the Barrons and their knights had been captured and King Guy and his Templar Raynald had surrendered.

Nightfall had seen the two Locksley men still fighting beside Balien and his knights along with soldiers from the guard of Count Joscelin. The fires that the Saracens had lit during the day no longer bellowed smoke, instead lighting up their advancing attackers and Saladin had ordered his men back.

Balien had made the decision that they should rest for the night and retreat before dawn. Bone tired and almost literaly dead on their feet, no one had argued.

Come dawn however, when Much awoke, Robin was gone.

Much came back to himself as a buring log shifted in the fire, sending bright embers into the night sky. He looked down to find that Robin had drifted off to sleep once again. He did not stir when Much laid a hand on his chest and murmered his goodnights.

His own nightmares would not be of battles tonight but of waking alone before dawn that morning and of what Robin had told him of what he remembered when he was finally returned to them, six months later.

At daybreak the next day Much woke with a start, scenes from his dreams still echoing in his head. Scenes of Saracen slave camps and solid stone cells not tall enough to stand up in and not wide enough to lie down in. Of ropes and chains cutting into soft flesh, bloody wounds and seared skin. A wide-eyed, tortured soldier who barely recognised a brother.

He shook his head to clear it, only then noticing the warmth of another at his back.

"Are you alright?" Robin's voice came quietly from right behind him.

Much shifted so he lay beside Robin, shoulder to shoulder. He stared up at branches of the trees above, without really seeing them, "I should be asking you that, I think."

"I am alright Much." Robin replied, a slightly exasperated tone to his voice. He took a deep, shuddering breath and Robin could see the tension in the line of his back.

Much looked around at the others carrying on with their morning activities by the renewed camp fire.

"But Master... You are not." He spoke quietly. "Surely you see, it is getting worse not better. You barely sleep and when you do it is not restful, you barely eat... You hardley ever even want to go to Notingham to annoy the sherrif and Gisbourn any more. I mean surely, if nothing else, that would tell you that something..."

He finally stopped and took a breath when he felt Robin's hand on his back.

No words passed between the two men for a short time. Robin was unsure of quite what to say to reassure his friend. How could he, really, if he was not entirely sure of much himself anymore?

Robin propped himself up on his elbows where he still lay.

"I do not deserve this concern you have for me..." Much lifted his head as if to argue and quickly he continued. "But I am grateful, as ever. I don't know what to tell you. Yes, the dreams are getting worse and I cannot think why except maybe..." Robin paused, looking around, finally noticing their fellow outlaws who appeared to be listening intently to what should have been a more private conversation. They looked away quickly.

Much turned to look back at his Master, "Maybe what?"

Robin sat up next to his friend, staring intently down at his hands in his lap.

"Maybe... maybe I am supposed to suffer this way for all the blood I shed in the Holy Land." He finished quietly, standing up abruptly, walking off into the forest.

"Robin!" Much called out, but Robin did not look back, rather slumped his shoulders and hung his head as he disappeared into the trees.

"Was six months as their prisoner not suffering enough?" Much spoke to himself, his voice ceacking, not caring who heard.

End?