Title: Question and Answer
Fandom: Robin Hood (2006)
Characters: Djaq, Malik, Will; slight Will/Djaq
Rating: PG
Spoilers: 1x10

"May I see the helmet, Emir?" Djaq asks meekly. It has taken her nearly ten minutes to acquire the courage to approach him. Only her deep curiosity manages to conquer her awe of Saladin's nephew.

Prince Malik flicks a bemused gaze over her, then hands over the mask which caused so much fear among Robin's men. He watches her in silence, while she traces over the strategically placed holes with eyes and fingers. Carefully, she examines one of the needles.

"Incredible," she breathes. "My father was a physician, but he never heard of such a thing – to cure ailments with simple pressure to the head – where did you learn this?"

"I have an eager thirst for knowledge, which leads me to open my home to travelers the world over. This particular theory I gleaned from a Chinese scientist. Fascinating, is it not?"

"Amazing." Reluctantly, she hands the helmet back to him; Harold will need it on their long journey to Jerusalem. "I wish there was a way I might learn how to use such a tool."

The prince eyes her speculatively. "What is your name?"

"Djaq." She gives him no other name; if he is familiar with her family, then he would know at once she lies. But she is unwilling to be Safiyah again, even for this man she respects so much.

"How came you here, Djaq?"

"I was captured, sold as a slave. Robin freed me."

"And yet you do not return home to your family?"

"My family is dead. I have no one to return to."

"Then you stay to avoid the war?"

Djaq's pride bristles at the accusation of cowardice – even though Malik voices the question without judgment. "No, Emir. Robin is a good man; his mission is a noble one. I stay to aid him."

Malik nods but continues to study her. "That may be true, but perhaps you could be of aid to an even nobler mission – that of ending this war once and for all. I could use a boy like you: sharp-witted, good fighter, one who speaks English and could serve as a witness to both sides. What would you say to joining me on my journey?"

What did she say? What could she say? Djaq's mind spins from the honor of it. This prince, whom she admired so, this man, willing to risk everything – his very life – for peace, requests her help. Yes hovers on her lips when the noise of the others returning to camp brings an interruption to their conversation.

Djaq looks over to see Robin and Much speaking to Harold nearby in low tones. Will, Allan and Little John carry in food from their store; they are sending more than they can spare with Malik and Harold to see them through the first stage of their perilous trip.

Their appearance reminds Djaq of a very real reason she should decline. "My friends," she says quietly as she turns back to the prince, "I cannot leave them."

A regal eyebrow lifts in surprise. "These men are your friends?" He sweeps his arm across the campsite. "These ignorant outlaws who see science as magic and view any Saracen with suspicion?"

Djaq ducks her head, hearing some of her own thoughts echoed back at her. The last few days have not been easy. Little John's terror, Allan's thoughtless remarks, and Robin's ignoring her input have all taken their toll. But these have been balanced by moments which let her know how much she means to them all: Little John's saving her, Will's immediate concern, Much's heartfelt expression of support.

"There is more to them than that," she says defensively.

"I have no doubt of that. They fight bravely and well. They saved my life, and, for that, they have my gratitude. But is it enough? Will you be content for long in a place where you must always fight to prove yourself, to be liked in spite of your race?"

There are no easy answers to his questions, Djaq sees now. "I need time, Emir, time to think and pray."

"Of course." His voice, his words, his face – all are kind, sympathetic. Truly, he is a man to be esteemed. "We leave at sunset; you have until then to decide."

Djaq fights the urge to bow again before she leaves. He is her prince, but this is Robin's forest. Here, they are all equals.

She considers that as she slips through the trees to the secluded spot she uses for her daily prayers. The equality – the brotherhood – is not something that exists outside Sherwood, either in England or in Palestine. She, a Saracen and a woman, is still held in the same respect and regard as these Christian men.

But her people are not given the same consideration, except by Robin.

However, if she returns to Palestine, she will find the reverse true. They will speak of all the English as dogs, as evil fit only for the fire of hell. She used to think so, too – before she met Robin and his friends.

Robin and Malik, each of them so worthy. Djaq feels she could serve either honorably all her life. But where does she belong?

The problem is too big for her. She must turn to one outside herself.

She falls to her knees, hands raised, head bowed. Facing east, toward Mecca, she prays. Not the salat, the ritual prayers, which she still struggles every day to perform, with no call, no prayer mat, and all on her own. Instead, she lifts her petition before Allah. Words of praise fall from her lips in her native tongue – the names of Allah are like music to her starved ears. She prays fervently, knowing her request is pure, that he will listen; her dua will be heard.

Branches being slapped away rouse her at last. She sits up and turns to find an uncomfortable Will Scarlett.

"I'm sorry. Didn't realize you were praying. I'll just leave then, shall I?"

"It is all right, Will." Djaq has received no answer on the wind, no angel or vision, but she is not above believing Allah might send a friend to help her find her way. "I am finished."

She shifts her position, sitting cross-legged on a soft patch of moss. She leaves a space for him and hopes he understands she welcomes his company. He must, because he lowers his lanky frame next to her.

"That Prince Malik is really quite a fellow," he says abruptly.

Djaq's neck stings from how fast she snaps around to look at him. Does Will know the choice she faces? "Why do you say that?"

He shrugs, and his face reveals total innocence. "Coming all this way on his own, for just the chance of peace? And now, going back to try again. I respect that."

"Do you think he will succeed?"

The look on Will's face is almost wistful, as he stares at something Djaq cannot see. "I don't know. I hope so. Peace – that's something we'd all like, isn't it? Deep down."

She smiles at his idealism, even as she shakes her head no. "Not everyone." Not the Sheriff, or Prince John. Not Saladin, either, apparently.

Will sighs, and the faraway look leaves his face. "No, not everyone. But it's a nice thought; it's what Malik believes."

"He has asked me to go with him."

It is Will's turn to twist his neck around. His eyes widen in surprise – so he had not known then – and something else fills his expression, something remarkably close to panic. "You're not going, are you?"

"I have not decided yet. I came here to pray, to think. You yourself say he is a good man with a grand hope. He offers me the opportunity to be a part of that vision."

"Or to get killed by an assassin's sword – or even Harold's, if he snaps again."

The thought has occurred to Djaq as well, but she brushes Will's concern aside. "If I make my choice based on fear, what kind of honor is there for me in it? Besides, we face dangers everyday right here that are as likely to end in death."

"But as long as you're here, I can—" He stops abruptly, a flush rising in his cheeks.

"Can what? Protect me?" Her tone drips derision. "I do not need your protection."

"I know." Will's voice is quiet, but he meets her gaze squarely as he speaks.

Appeased, Djaq nods. "So, leaving out the fear, what do you think I should do?"

"It's not my decision to make."

"And that prevents you from having an opinion?" She knows Will well enough now to realize he always has an opinion – and if it is not always one she agrees with, it is at least always measured and sound, worth the hearing.

Will twirls his smaller axe absently; it is a long time before he speaks. "Prince Malik is a good man, with an important calling. But he can do without you. We can't." He pushes himself to his feet and sets off for camp, without waiting for her response.

"You are sure? You will not change your mind?"

Djaq shakes her head. "My place is here. I know this now."

The prince smiles gently. "As-Salāmu Alaykum, Djaq."

"Wa Alaykum As-Salām, Emir." Unable to stop herself, Djaq sinks to her knees and grabs his hand to press to her lips. "I shall never stop praying Allah grants you success."

Malik rests his hand against her head in blessing before slowly moving away. Then he and Harold follow Robin and Much out of the forest.

Djaq watches the flames of the torches as they flicker smaller and smaller in the darkness. It is a moment before she feels Will's presence at her side. They are close enough for their arms to brush. Slowly, without Djaq knowing who begins it, their hands find each other, fingers interlocking.

Together, they watch until the others disappear.

fin