Disclaimer : The BBC owns Robin Hood. Unfortunately. I want to steal Will away from them.

Rating: K

Summary : Djaq helps Will to mourn the death of his father. Post season 2 ep 4. Will/Djaq fluffy fluff.

Author's Note : I had this idea in my head so sat down to write it, and this is what happened. I'm not sure if I'm happy the way it turned out so feedback is appreciated!

Hands

Will sat alone in the forest, half hidden by bracken, leaning against the trunk of a sturdy oak. The bark was rough against his back but he barely noticed, so consumed was he in his own thoughts.

His father had died and all he could feel was a sickening sense of guilt, weighing heavily on his mind and twisting his gut into a knot of regret. Since he had become an outlaw he hadn't even seen his father, when he owed him such a debt for sacrificing his hand to save his sons.

His father would have done anything for him, and now he was dead.

And he hadn't even been able to say goodbye.

His senses were deadened by the loss he had suffered, but the instincts of an outlaw were well ingrained and the sound of a cracking twig caused him to stiffen and his hand to fall automatically to the small axe at his waist. His limbs coiled beneath him as he readied himself to spring up should he need to defend himself, but a wall of leaf was pushed aside and he relaxed back onto the ground as he realised it was only Djaq.

She stood over him for a moment, heart constricting at the despair that was evident in the young carpenter's eyes, before settling down onto the dusty forest floor beside him. He shifted to the right so she could lean back against the tree with him.

They sat in silence for a while, Djaq waiting for his lead. The signal came when her peripheral vision noted his head drop, and the shoulder resting against hers began to shake. Twisting round she saw tears sliding down his smooth cheeks and swiftly slipped an arm between his back and the tree trunk, pulling him towards her. His head fell sideways onto her shoulder and his arms slipped around her waist, slender fingers tangling in her shirt and clinging on for comfort. Stroking his head with one hand and his back with the other she murmured nonsense words in a soothing tone, letting him cry, knowing that he would talk when he was ready.

The sun was drifting low in the sky when he suddenly tensed and sat up, wiping his face with his sleeve and refusing to look at her, embarrassed that she had witnessed his outpouring of emotion. She didn't pressure him, just sat quietly, and they lapsed once more into companionable silence.

"I never said goodbye," Will's voice, raw with emotion, finally broke into the quiet air. "I never told him that I loved him."

Djaq reached out and grasped his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "He knew you loved him, Will. He knew."

Will stared down at their clasped hands, the soft brown of her skin a delicious contrast against his pale fingers. Her hand looked small in his, and was soft and smooth, a stark contrast to his worn, calloused skin.

"He would have done anything for me, Djaq. Before Robin returned, when we were living in Locksley, me and Luke were caught stealing by the Sheriff's men. My father took the punishment for us, and they took a hand." He choked over the words. "He was a carpenter, his hands were crucial to his trade, and he sacrificed one for us." Will gave a small, sad laugh. "He did amazing things with wood, Djaq. He was the most skilled carpenter I'll ever know."

"I find it hard to believe that," Djaq teased, nudging him playfully with her shoulder. "You have inherited his talent, Will." A shiver ran down the young man's spine as she began to slowly rub her thumb in small, delicate circles on the back of his hand. He didn't seem able to take his eyes off their entwined fingers. "You have the talent, and the knowledge, and the imagination. Some of the things you have made, I have never seen anything like it!"

Heat was rising in his cheeks and Will ducked his head, trying to hide the blush. Djaq smiled to herself; she could tell he was embarrassed from the way the tips of his ears turned red. Recently she had been finding it difficult to stop watching him, especially when they were in the camp, her eyes following him as he ate his dinner or whittled delicately at a piece of wood. Her quiet observations had taught her many of his little habits, such as how he would always worry his bottom lip when he was concerned or the way his tongue would poke out when he was concentrating especially hard. One thing she had noticed was how his ears were the first to turn red when he was getting teased by Allan, or when she caught him staring at her.

Whenever she caught his eyes resting on her a tingle ran down her spine, and did not know what to make of it. She had been trying unsuccessfully to assess her feelings for him. The power of the affection she felt for him was frightening; she had never felt that way about another man before. She loved the whole gang, every smelly, bad mannered one of them, but when she looked at Little John she didn't feel the flutter in her stomach that she felt when she looked at Will, and if Robin slung an arm around her shoulder her heart did not beat twice as fast the way it did when Will's hand brushed against her arm. She could sit, mesmerised, for hours, watching his delicate fingers masterfully handle a knife to turn a lump of wood into something beautiful.

Hesitantly she let her head tilt sideways until it rested on his slender shoulder. She felt him tense, then relax, and let his own head rest atop hers. A surge of daring ran through her as she watched her thumb continue its ministrations on the back of his hand, as if of its own accord.

"He'd be proud of you, Will," she said softly as she lifted his hand until their tangled fingers were in the air between them, both of them staring as she slowly removed her hand and then ran it up his palm, smoothing out his fingers until his hand was raised and flat as if bidding someone to stop. "He knew what he was doing." With the lightest touch on the back of his hand she guided it towards her. "Imagine what you would do if you didn't have this hand." Closing her eyes she brought his hand to her face and lightly kissed the tip of his index finger, hearing his breath hitch as her lips brushed his skin. "You wouldn't have been able to make the camp." She kissed the next finger. "We wouldn't have been able to escape so many times," she murmured, pressing her lips against his third finger. "We couldn't cope without you, Will Scarlett." She placed a delicate kiss on the tip of his little finger, and then opened her eyes.

Will was staring at her, his eyes half closed and slightly glazed over. They sat, frozen, wanting to cross the small space between their bodies but both unwilling to be the first to break the barrier between them.

"Djaq! Will! DINNER!" The sound of Much's bellow invaded the bubble of quiet longing they were wrapped in. Djaq dropped Will's hand as if it had burned her and Will scrambled to his feet, almost falling onto Djaq in his haste.

About to run away to camp he remembered his manners and offered Djaq a tentative hand, pulling her to her feet. Looking down once more at their clasped hands Will murmured a thank you before reluctantly letting go. Djaq disappeared into the trees and Will stared at his hand in wonder for a moment before touching his fingertips to his mouth, transferring the lingering kisses from fingertip to lip. Smiling to himself, he followed her back to camp.