Choices

Authors notes: This is a direct sequel to “Forgotten Treasure” and is fourth in a series. You don’t need to read the others in order to make sense of this one, although the first, “Meant To Be”, and the third, “Forgotten Treasure”, are referenced here.
Pairing: Robin of Huntingdon/Nasir


Glossary of Arabic terms:
Hashishyun = Lit. “one who uses hashish”. Name for the Al-Da’wa al-Jadîda.
Salaam alaykum = Peace be upon you
Wa alaykum as-salaam = And upon you be peace
Ma'asalama = Goodbye
Sadiqi = My friend
Ya Allah = My dear god
Azizi = Dear one or my dear
Habibi = An endearment whose meanings include - my beloved, my sweetheart, my darling, my love … etc.

*********************************************

If I die not of grief on the day of separation
Reckon me not faithful in friendship.
~Sadi


Sherwood gleamed green and gold, the afternoon sun sparkling brightly through the leaves overhead. As his swift and silent stride carried him towards camp, Nasir could not help but marvel at the beauty of it all. He had become as comfortable here, in the lush green of the forest, as he had been in the barren deserts of his homeland. He had found new purpose and a measure of peace in this place, not just in the steadfast companionship of his friends and the cause for which they fought, but in the forest itself. He had found love and happiness here too, a discovery all the more precious for that it was so unexpected. A day did not pass in which he did not thank Allah for the fate that had brought him to this land, and also for one person in particular that resided here. Smiling at the thought of that beloved one, Nasir cast his mind back over the events of the last day.

Yesterday had been a typical spring day in Sherwood: everyone up early and going about their business. As evening approached, they had all gathered around the fire to eat, share stories and discuss the information that they had collected during the day. Tuck had been the last to arrive, huffing and puffing with exertion. He had been on a visit to Newstead Priory, and the news that he brought back had them all pricking their ears and leaning forward to listen attentively.

In the morning, Tuck had told them, a visiting nobleman would be passing along the North Road on his way to Nottingham. The man was known to be quite wealthy and, no doubt, would be carrying a nice fat purse. It was an opportunity too good to pass up, and the fact that he would be traveling with a number of well-trained men-at-arms didn’t deter the outlaws in the slightest. After all, excessively rich noblemen didn’t fall into their laps everyday.

After much deliberation, it had been decided that they would ambush the nobleman and his escort as they passed the foresters’ trail near Hob’s Mile, and then take the stolen bounty to the village of Clipstone. It was more than half a day’s journey north, but help was sorely needed there as the village had lost what was left of their winter stores in a recent fire. Having decided on a plan of action, the outlaws settled down for the night. In the morning, all the outlaws save one had left camp just as the sun was rising over the horizon.

It had been a little over a week since Robin had been viciously attacked while alone in the forest. The outlaw leader was young and healthy and mending quickly from his wounds, but he was not yet fit enough for such a long and potentially dangerous mission. He tired easily and his shoulder was not healed sufficiently for him to pull his bow or swing his sword. Even worse, he still suffered from blinding headaches as a result of the blow to the head inflicted by Tom of Wickham on that terrible day.

Tom. Just thinking about the man made Nasir’s blood boil. The villager had been a friend, someone known and trusted, and that made his betrayal that much worse. If he had only confided in the outlaws and relied on them to find a way to rescue his daughter from Nottingham’s dungeon, none of this need ever have happened. Tom had been a fool. Why the man had chosen to believe the Sheriff’s falsehood that if he killed Robin Hood his daughter would be set free, Allah only knew. Instead, both Tom and his daughter had ended up dead. Stupid. The Saracen scowled, shaking his head in disgust. The villager had paid the price for his actions, but Nasir could not help wanting to curse the man (may his bones rot and the scorpions and snakes of hell sting and bite him for all eternity) when he saw how Robin still suffered.

It pricked Robin’s pride to have to stay behind; he was their leader after all. His friends had all been aware that he was contemplating going with them; it had been obvious from the determined look on his face and the stubborn jut of his jaw.

Seeing that, John had been the voice of reason, circumventing the argument that was bound to come. He had placed a large hand on Robin’s shoulder and said earnestly, “No, lad, stay this time. They’ll be plenty of other ambushes for you to lead us on. Right now, we need you to get well and strong.”

All the fight had gone out of Robin at that, and he had nodded reluctantly. “I know you’re right, John, but that doesn’t make it any easier.”

Slapping him gently on the back, the giant of a man had grinned, a twinkle in his eye. “You’ll do fine. Besides, we’ll be back before you know it.”

Robin had given John a half-hearted smile in response before slumping back down next to the fire with a sigh, looking for all the world like a little boy who had just been denied his favorite toy.

Observing all this, hating the unhappiness, but knowing there was nothing he could do, Nasir had offered what comfort he could. Crouching down beside Robin, he had touched him lightly on the arm, a mixture of sympathy and approval in his eyes. Very low, so that no one else could hear, he’d said, “I will return before the others.” This time, Robin’s smile had been so warm that it made Nasir’s mouth go dry and, swallowing hard, he had turned away.

Nasir had not minded leaving Robin behind after that, until he’d seen the expression on the young outlaw’s face as they left camp without him. It had been filled with such stark longing that Nasir had to turn away again, all the while fighting the urge to strangle something with his bare hands. The Saracen smiled grimly as he remembered how he had put that desire to good use. The soldiers he’d fought this morning had stood less chance than usual. The battle had been intense but short, and his friends had all been in high spirits afterwards, joking and laughing as they started their long journey northward. Satisfied that he was no longer needed, Nasir had slipped off, impatient to get back to Robin.

The muffled sound of hoof-beats up ahead pulled Nasir abruptly from his thoughts. Quickly slipping off the path, he concealed himself behind a dense growth of bracken and waited. When the horse and rider came into view, he stiffened in recognition, cursing angrily under his breath. This man was no stranger. He was someone from Nasir’s past. Someone Nasir had fervently hoped never to see again. His name was Ra’id and he was hashishyun.

Nasir didn’t like this. No good could come of it. Was the other man here because the Order had sent him, or for some other purpose? There was, he thought, only one way to find out. Stepping from his hiding place, Nasir stood in the middle of the trail, body tense and alert, hands itching for his swords.

Upon seeing Nasir, Ra’id reined in his horse, staring haughtily down at the other man as the animal sidestepped and tossed its head. Nasir stared back, chin up, head tilted at its most arrogant angle. Finally, the hashishyun gave a small nod. Dismounting, he came forward, bowing his head in greeting. “Salaam alaykum.”

“Wa alaykum as-salaam,” Nasir replied, returning the bow and continuing in Arabic, “What brings you here, Ra’id?”

“What? No warm welcome for an old friend? Such impatience, Nasir. It does not become you,” Ra’id chided him. He gave Nasir a sly knowing look. “Are you perhaps in a hurry to see the fair young Frank that waits for you so eagerly? Such pale skin, with eyes the color of the sky, and his hair,” Ra’id said, gesturing vaguely toward the heavens. “Why, it shines like the sun. So very pretty.” He shook his head in mock regret. “It would be a shame if something were to happen to that one.” Almost casually, he dropped a hand to rest on the hilt of his sword.

Nasir went still as stone, eyes hard and cold as ice. In a voice full of deadly promise he said, “Touch Robin and you will not live long enough to regret it.”

If the hashishyun was intimidated by Nasir’s threat, he did not show it. “You underestimate me, Nasir. I am not the only one who has come looking for you. More brothers of the Order await my return.” Ra’id pointed in the direction of the outlaw’s camp, an unpleasant smile flickering across his face. “And if I do not return unharmed, your friend dies.”

Rage, bright and hot, washed over Nasir. He forced it down, along with the urge to skewer the man on the spot. “What is it you want, Ra’id?” he ground out through clenched teeth, narrowed eyes glittering dangerously.

Ra’id looked surprised, as if the answer was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why, for you to return to your rightful place among us, my friend. Where you belong.”

“I left the Order long ago. I am no longer one of you. My place is here.” Nasir’s voice was firm, as hard and uncompromising as the rest of him.

“You cannot leave,” scoffed the other man. “That is not possible. No one leaves the Order. Do not think that you can escape your fate, Nasir. Refuse to come with me and it will not only be you that is marked for death, but your friend as well. And if you are fool enough to resist and somehow manage to kill us, it changes nothing: the Brotherhood will always find you. Win or lose, you place his life in the balance.” Ra’id’s tone dropped, becoming threatening. “And next time there will be no warning. Next time, the infidel will die first. Are you willing to risk that?”

Nasir’s gut turned to ice, fear overriding his anger. No. He was not. And Ra’id knew it. Had, in fact, planned this trap very cleverly. Nasir could see no way around it. He did not even know how many foes he currently faced. Not that it mattered: one or a hundred, he would never risk Robin. And even if he was willing to take the chance this time, he knew Ra’id was right. The Order would find him again: they had before. The threat that they posed to his own life was acceptable, but for the shadow of that threat to fall on his friends, on Robin, was not. If any harm were to befall Robin because of him … Ya Allah, no. Nasir could not even bear to think of that. His decision was already made. There was no choice.

When he spoke at last, his voice was flat, emotionless. “I will come. But first I must speak with Robin. If I do not tell him I am leaving, he will worry and search for me.”

“You have made a wise decision, my brother,” Ra’id said approvingly, looking pleased for the first time since their meeting. “When you have finished, return here. We will find you.” As he finished speaking, the hashishyun reached out to clasp Nasir’s hand. When the other man did not move, Ra’id lowered his arm, eyes angry. “You would do well to accept this gracefully, Nasir. It will go better for you in the end.” He paused and stared hard at Nasir for a moment, then continued. “Do not make us wait too long. My patience wears thin.” With that final warning, he inclined his head and said, “Ma’asalaama.”

Nasir returned the gesture with a stiff, exaggerated politeness. Ra’id shot him a narrow-eyed look, but said nothing more. Mounting his horse, he wheeled about and urged his mount forward with a swift kick. Nasir stood motionless, staring after the other man long after he had disappeared out of sight beyond the line of trees.

Finally, the Saracen turned and began walking slowly towards camp, back as rigid as the swords that were strapped there. His face was closed and set, giving no indication of the emotion churning beneath that seemingly calm exterior. Rage and pain and despair all warred in him with equal fervor, but worst of all was the dread. It sat on his shoulders like a crushing weight, pressing him relentlessly into the ground. Clenching his jaw, Nasir shoved it all down savagely, forcing it into a single fixed purpose.

Somehow, he must convince Robin to let him go. It would not be easy. He knew Robin’s feelings for him went deep, possibly as deep as his own. He also knew that the young outlaw would never accept his reason for leaving. And when Robin set his mind to something, he could be stubbornly persistent. That was exactly why Nasir could not tell his friend the truth. Past experience told him what would happen if he did. Robin was always ready and willing to brave any enemy for the people he loved and would insist on standing at Nasir’s side, facing possible death at the hashishyuns’ hands.

No, the truth was not an option. Neither was simply disappearing without telling Robin he was leaving. The first thing Robin would do when Nasir failed to return to camp would be to search for him. That must be avoided at all costs. Not only would it fail to keep Robin out of harm's way, it would place the young outlaw in just as much danger from the hashishyun as staying would.

Nasir knew what he must do. Better that Robin think him fickle, faithless. He would do anything to keep Robin safe and alive, even if it meant that he had to break both of their hearts in the process. Robin was young; he would recover, just as he had recovered from Marion’s retreat into the priory. That thought was little consolation and did nothing to ease the hollow ache in Nasir’s chest. He pushed it away, along with everything else. There had always been the likelihood that he would die while protecting Robin, and, in a way, this would be a death of sorts. For when he left, Nasir would not only be leaving his heart behind: he would be leaving his soul as well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Nasir stepped into camp, the outlaw leader was sitting with his back against the trunk of a large tree. He had a dagger and whetstone in his hands, fair head bent over his task. Hearing Nasir’s approach, he glanced up.

At the sight of the Saracen, a sweet smile curved Robin’s lips, the blue eyes soft and shining. “There you are. What took you so long?”

Nasir’s heart wrenched, the thought of leaving the man in front of him an almost physical pain. He took a deep breath, bracing himself. Expression carefully blank, he said flatly, “I am leaving.”

The smile dropped from Robin’s face, disappointment taking its place. Completely misunderstanding his friend, he quickly brightened, pushing himself to his feet and looking at Nasir with interested curiosity. “Where are you going? I’ll come with you.”

“No. I am going far away from Sherwood. I will not be coming back.”

Robin blinked at him in confusion. “What? Leaving Sherwood? For good?” He frowned and slowly shook his head. “No. You don’t mean that.”

“I have made my decision.” Nasir’s tone was cold, unyielding. He made a cutting gesture with one hand. “It is final.”

Robin looked helplessly at the Saracen, his eyes full of hurt. “But … you’re one of us now. I don’t understand. Tell me why, Nasir,” he entreated, putting out a hand in supplication. “I thought you were happy here with us … with me.”

“My reasons are my own,” Nasir said slowly and concisely. “You do not need to know them.”

Brows drawing together in a scowl, Robin huffed out an exasperated breath. “Why won’t you tell me? Is there something else going on here that I should know about?” he asked, pale eyes searching Nasir’s intently. The Saracen stared back, not letting his expression flicker in the slightest. His impassivity told Robin everything he needed to know. The young outlaw’s tone was certain. “There is, isn’t there? You wouldn’t leave unless you had no other choice.” Moving closer, Robin reached for him, his words half-demand, half-appeal. “Nasir, tell me what’s wrong. I want to know.”

Nasir quickly stepped back. If Robin touched him now he would be lost. “The only thing wrong is that I did not leave this cursed country and its people long ago,” he growled in disgust.

Hurt by the rebuff, Robin let his hand drop, but he didn’t give up. He shook his head. “I don’t believe that. I know you, sadiqi. You’re loyal and true and would give your life for each and every one of your friends.” Robin hesitated, eyes and voice soft, pleading. “Please, don’t do this. I love you, Nasir, and I know you love me. Tell me the truth.”

Allah, help me. Nasir should have known this would break him. He should have known he would have no defenses against that voice and those eyes. Nasir’s resolve began to crack, crumbling before Robin’s gentle and insistent onslaught. Grimly, he hung on to it, like a man hanging from a cliff clutches at the edge to keep from falling.

Twisting his lips into a sneer, Nasir made his voice harsh and mocking, the lies bitter against his tongue. “That? That was not love. I tire of it and of you.”

Robin gasped and jerked back as if he had been slapped in the face, eyes going wide and dark with pain.

Unable to bear any more, Nasir turned on his heel and began to walk away.

“No!” Robin cried out from behind him. “That’s not true. I don’t believe you.”

Strong hands grabbed at Nasir’s arms, trying to stop him. He twisted, wrenching free of Robin’s grip and shoving him hard. The young outlaw stumbled backwards against a tree with a pained grunt, catching hold of it to steady himself.

In desperation, Nasir did the only thing he could think of. Drawing one of his twin swords from its sheath, he held it threateningly in front of Robin. “Do not try to stop me,” he snarled, black eyes glittering dangerously.

Robin gaped at Nasir in shock, the surprise on his face quickly replaced by a flash of anger. His mouth tightened and he glared at the Saracen. “Put the sword down, Nasir,” he ordered sharply. “You know I’m not afraid of you.” His anger dissipating as quickly as it had come, Robin’s expression softened slightly. Very steady, very sure, he said, “I know you would never hurt me.”

A cold, helpless fury enveloped Nasir – fury at himself, at the men forcing him to do this, even, unaccountably, at Robin, for loving him too much and too well. He used it, focusing it into a deadly calm.

Slowly, deliberately, he moved in close, placing the tip of his sword underneath Robin’s chin. The young outlaw stared at him defiantly, not giving an inch.

Nasir smiled cruelly, his voice soft and menacing. “You should be very afraid.” As he spoke, he pushed the blade up ever so slightly, drawing blood. Robin swallowed, eyes widening, but he held perfectly still, barely breathing. For the first time, Nasir saw uncertainty and the faint flicker of fear in his friend’s eyes. Loathing himself for putting it there, and feeling sick to his stomach at what he was about to do, Nasir made his final stand.

Shifting forward, he pressed Robin up against the tree, raising his free hand to stroke it slowly up the other man’s arm, across his shoulder, the column of his neck - watching as wariness was replaced by hope, then desire. A faint sigh escaped Robin’s lips and he leaned into the Saracen’s touch. It was almost Nasir’s undoing. He felt his traitorous body respond, wanting nothing more than to take Robin into his arms and feel those warm lips against his. With every ounce of willpower he possessed, Nasir forced himself to deny his need and shatter the trust that was so dear to him.

Seizing a fistful of hair, Nasir yanked Robin’s head back at a painful angle, exposing the soft flesh of his neck. The young man gasped and started to struggle, shoving at Nasir’s chest and trying to twist away from him. Nasir only tightened his hold and tugged harder, pressing the length of his sword beneath Robin’s jaw. Feeling the cold steel against his throat, Robin went still.

“You mean nothing to me,” Nasir growled harshly into his ear. “If you follow, you will die.” Releasing Robin abruptly, he turned and stalked away.

“Nasir ... please.”

Robin’s choked cry ended on a sob, the sound slicing through Nasir like a razor-sharp knife. The pain of it nearly cut him in two, but he did not stop, and he did not falter.

And this time, Robin did not follow.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nasir did not know how long he walked. He was vaguely aware that he was moving, his feet carrying him forward of their own volition, but he had no idea where he went. Some part of him wondered, with an odd detachment, how it was possible that he was still standing. That same part of him warned that this was not safe.

The rest of him did not care. It was a broken, bleeding thing, with the echo of Robin’s grief-stricken voice like jagged claws in his chest, ripping him to shreds. It made him want to tear at his hair, to rend his garments and howl like a lost soul. He fought against it, holding it down with all his strength, but the band that had formed around his chest tightened unbearably, making him gasp for breath.

Nasir stopped suddenly and veered off towards a heavy thicket. Once within its shelter, he sank down to his knees, pressing white-knuckled fists against his thighs. He concentrated on breathing, the simple process of drawing air in and out of his lungs helping him find some semblance of calm. Carefully unclenching his hands, he brought them up to wipe the sweat from his face – and froze.

A strand of golden hair was caught on his sleeve, a reminder of their struggle and the way Robin had refused to turn away. It gleamed softly against the black leather like a single bright accusation, more piercing than the finest Damascene steel.

Without a sound, Nasir buried his head in his hands and wept.

When at last he stood, he was numb to the bone and as comfortless and cold as the desert in the dead of night. Emptiness consuming him, Nasir went to meet his fate.

***************

As Robin watched Nasir walk away, he prayed for his friend to stop, to turn around, to say that it was all a mistake, that he would not leave. But Nasir did not.

Dropping his head in defeat, Robin sagged against the tree. It was the only thing holding him up. He couldn’t seem to draw enough air into his lungs, his throat and chest aching so badly that it was difficult to breathe. His wounded shoulder throbbed in time with his heart and he rubbed at it absently, making a small hurt sound. Sweet Christ, it was happening all over again. Why did everyone that he loved leave him? First Marion and now Nasir. Marion’s rejection had been painful, but this … this bit deep. The Saracen had become more than a friend; he was almost a part of him. And he had left without giving Robin one single reason why.

He didn’t understand it, and it hurt. Oh, how it hurt.

Swiping angrily at his face, Robin forced the pain aside. He needed to think about this rationally. There was something very wrong here. Nasir’s demeanor and actions had almost been those of a stranger. In all the time that Robin had known the other man, he had never seen the Saracen behave in such a way before. It wasn’t normal; it wasn’t right. Nasir was many things, but he was not cruel. And it wasn’t only his apparent heartlessness that did not ring true. Beneath Nasir’s usual quiet deliberation, Robin had sensed an undercurrent of urgency, of despair, as if he had no other choice. But who, or what, could possibly compel the Saracen to leave?

Frowning, the young man sighed, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. He felt drained and tired, and this was getting him nowhere. One thing he knew for certain: in spite of Nasir’s brutal words, he did not believe for one second that the other man didn’t love him. Robin had seen the truth shining from those dark eyes too many times to ever believe otherwise.

In sudden determination, Robin pushed away from the tree. He refused to just stand here and let Nasir walk out of his life. Not like this, and not without an explanation. He needed to find out what was going on.

Straightening his shoulders, Robin headed out of camp in the direction that Nasir had taken. The Saracen’s last words to him rang briefly in his head, but Robin shook them off. Deep in his heart, he didn’t really believe that his friend would try to kill him, but, if he did – then so be it. When the alternative was to lose Nasir forever, it was a chance that he was more than willing to take.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moving quickly, Robin tracked Nasir through the forest. The Saracen’s progress had been halting and slow, almost as if he were unsure of where he was going. At one point, Robin found signs that the other man had stopped and knelt on the ground, as if to pray. But the time and place were all wrong, noon prayer having already come and gone. Robin frowned, disturbed. He knew Nasir’s habits better than anyone and none of this made any sense. Combined with everything else, it only served to further convince him that there was something very wrong here. He was determined to get to the bottom of it.

Coming at last to the forester’s track that led to the North Road, Robin paused, resting briefly, before picking up the other man’s trail as it headed west. The path was narrow, overgrown with brush and saplings; eventually, Robin came to a place where it curved sharply, following the edge of a rocky outcrop. Unable to see what was ahead, he slowed, creeping forward cautiously and using the thick foliage as cover.

There were three men in the middle of the road, standing a short distance away. One of them was Nasir. He had his back towards Robin, the sun glinting off the dark curls on his head and the metal studs of his jerkin. Drinking in the sight of him, the young outlaw let out his breath in relief – only to suck it back in sharply, heart sinking, as his gaze switched to the strangers. There was no mistaking their olive skin and distinctive clothing: they were Saracens.

The taller of the two men was speaking with Nasir, the shifting breeze carrying faint snatches of Arabic to Robin’s ears. He couldn’t see Nasir’s face, but it didn’t appear that his friend was being coerced in any way. Could Robin have been wrong? All this time, had Nasir simply been waiting for a chance to return to his native land and live among his own people again? Or did these men hold some sort of power over Nasir? That could make things dangerous. “If you follow, you will die.” A chill ran down Robin’s spine as Nasir’s last words sounded in his head. Had they been more than only a threat to keep him from following?

Thoughts whirled through Robin’s mind with the speed of a loosed arrow, guesswork and maybes and contradictions. In an instant, the young outlaw came to the conclusion that he didn’t care if this was dangerous, or the threat was real. He had not come this far only to turn around and give up without trying. Besides, there was still the possibility that Nasir needed his help. If so, Robin was not about to let his friend down.

Raising his chin, heart pounding hard in his chest, Robin stepped from his hiding place. Immediately, the tall stranger saw him. He gestured sharply, pointing at Robin, a spate of angry words pouring from his mouth. Nasir turned, and as his gaze fell upon Robin, his eyes flashed, blazing with anger and hatred. Robin’s heart clenched, pain closing his throat and stealing his breath. Time stuttered to a stop, shock holding him still. He tried to step back, to get away, but his legs wouldn’t work and he stumbled, staring in horrified disbelief as Nasir reached for one of his knives.

“Down!” Nasir’s voice cracked across the stillness like a whip, and the world snapped back into motion.

Obeying that command without thought, Robin ducked. In the same instant, he felt something whistle by his ear, the blade of a sword missing him by mere inches. Whirling up and around, he had a split second to wonder what had happened, and then something hard connected with his temple.

Pain exploded inside Robin’s skull and a blinding flash of white cut off his vision. With a gasp, he dropped to his knees. Everything receded, the world going gray around the edges. He was dimly aware of something heavy falling nearby, and the sound of steel clashing against steel hovering just at the edge of his consciousness. On hands and knees, head hanging, Robin struggled to focus. He had to get up. He had to move. He shook his head, groaning at the throbbing of his skull, but he found that he could see again. Looking up, he inhaled sharply at what he saw.

A Saracen lay sprawled on the ground next to him. The man was dead, one of Nasir’s finely honed daggers piercing his chest. Robin’s heart turned over as the realization of what had happened dawned on him. Nasir’s look of hatred had not been directed at him, but at the man who had meant to kill him. Between his own preoccupation and the assassin’s deadly stealth, Robin had never even heard the man sneak up behind him. If not for Nasir’s warning and lightening quick reaction, he would be dead right now.

Slowly and carefully he sat up, glancing over to where he had last seen Nasir. The second stranger already lay dead amongst the scattering of dry leaves that littered the trail, blood staining his robes a bright, rich red. As he watched his friend parry the last remaining assassin’s blade and finish the stranger off, Robin probed gingerly at the knot forming on his head and winced.

Dropping his hand, he sighed and grimaced. Even though he was still slightly upset and angry with the man, Robin found he could only gaze at Nasir with silent thankfulness. He thought he understood what had happened here now. Nasir’s past had come back to haunt him, and, as usual, the other man had been too damned stubborn and full of bloody pride to even ask for help.

Whatever the reason, it was no longer important. The danger was past and his friend was here beside him: that was all that mattered.

Cautiously, Robin pushed himself to his feet. He stood still for a few seconds, ready to sit back down at the first sign of dizziness, but none came. He had a headache, but that was all. It was nothing more than what he was used to, Robin thought somewhat ruefully. Satisfied that he wasn’t going to fall flat on his face, the outlaw leader headed straight towards his friend. “Nasir!”

Sheathing his swords, the Saracen turned – and was grabbed in an embrace so tight it was a wonder he could draw breath. Nasir stayed where he was for a moment, then gently withdrew, holding Robin at arm’s length and staring at him intently. “You are all right?”

There was more than just concern in that dark unguarded gaze. There was pain there too, pain and a great burning love. It made Robin’s throat go tight. He swallowed hard, voice gone hoarse, and spoke the truth that was in his heart. “I am now.” Dragging in a ragged breath, he tightened his grip on the Saracen. “Oh God, I thought I’d lost you, Nasir. I thought I’d lost you and I … ” His voice broke on the last word, eyes bright with emotion.

With a groan, Nasir crushed Robin to him. Burying his face in the golden hair, he whispered, “I am sorry, habibi. Please forgive me.”

At that, something inside Robin snapped, all the pent up pain and frustration tumbling out in a sudden, hot rush. He made a small choked sound and pushed away – only to grab hold of Nasir with hands hard enough to bruise. Staring into the startled eyes, he said fiercely, “Don’t you ever do that to me again. I don’t care about the danger that you think you’re placing me in! I don’t care about it and I refuse to lose you over it!” He shook Nasir roughly, voice rising to a shout. “I would rather die than lose you! Do you hear me? I won’t lose you!”

For a single heartbeat neither of them moved, their labored breathing the only sound in the sudden silence. Then they both lunged forward at once. The kiss was desperate, driven by fear and relief and the urgency of raw need. With a low growl, the Saracen took control. One hand shot up to wrap possessively around Robin’s nape, the other yanking him close so that their bodies touched in a long, hard line. Nasir’s lips and tongue were rough, insistent, devouring Robin as if he were starving and the other man was a feast spread out before him. Moaning, Robin opened to the assault, letting everything go from his mind but the intense heat that flared between them.

When Nasir finally tore his lips from Robin’s, they were both panting and hard with want. Before Robin could think, Nasir had tugged him off the path and into the shelter of the surrounding trees. Robin followed wordlessly, stumbling and dazed. The forest was nothing but a vague blur around him, the strong hand gripping his wrist the only thing that was real, that mattered.

The Saracen came to a stop, turning swiftly and pulling Robin close. Their gazes locked and held. Nasir’s eyes were black, blazing with a heat that seemed to sear the air. With a suddenness that stole Robin’s breath, Nasir was kissing him again. The other man’s mouth was hot and wet, teeth nipping at his lip, the flicker of his tongue sending small shocks of pleasure up Robin’s spine. Clenching his fists in the Saracen’s jerkin, Robin kissed him back fiercely.

Nasir’s hands moved to the young man’s belt, quickly unbuckling it and tugging Robin’s shirt free. Warm palms slipped underneath, pressing against the small of his back. Robin gasped and shivered, hips automatically canting forward to rub their groins together. The sudden contact forced a groan from both of them and they pulled apart, tearing frantically at each other’s clothes until there was nothing but bare skin against bare skin.

They sank to the ground in a tangle, hands and lips everywhere at once, touching, tasting, branding each other in the overwhelming need to reaffirm what they had nearly lost. Still entwined, Robin lay back, pulling the Saracen down on top of him. As Nasir’s weight bore down, pressing against his manhood, Robin groaned and shuddered, aroused beyond bearing. Making an urgent sound, he wrapped his legs around Nasir’s, pulling their bodies together so that their erections slid alongside one another.

With a groan, Nasir surged forward, kissing Robin hard and deep as they started rocking in unison, sweat slicking the way. Releasing him from the kiss, Nasir grazed his teeth along Robin’s jaw and throat, nipping at his ear. The young outlaw shivered, tilting his head back for more. Each touch burned like fire; the hot, smooth length of Nasir’s cock sliding against his was exquisite. Robin panted and bucked, small, breathless cries escaping at each grind of their hips, the pressure inside of him building, spiraling sharply out of control.

Gripping Nasir tighter, Robin pulled him closer, searching for more friction. The Saracen was gasping raggedly, his breath hot against Robin’s neck, shuddering now with each thrust. Their rhythm turned erratic, Robin’s cries growing louder as his body shook with the sudden force of his release. Burying his face in Robin’s neck, Nasir shoved forward twice more, stiffening abruptly and giving a long, low moan before collapsing on top of him.

They lay still for a brief moment, holding each other as their breathing quieted and their racing hearts slowed. Finally, Nasir rolled sideways, taking Robin with him. The Saracen drew him close, cradling him tenderly as Robin settled against the older man with a sigh of contentment. Long minutes passed without words, only Nasir’s hand stroking lightly over Robin’s hair.

Eventually, the Saracen stirred and shifted, as if to pull away. Robin made a slight sound of protest and tightened his hold, unwilling to lose the precious moment of shared closeness. Nasir cupped the back of Robin’s head and murmured something in Arabic, soft and reassuring. Reluctantly, the young outlaw let him ease back, but didn’t let go.

Reaching out, Nasir placed a finger beneath Robin’s chin, tilting his head up to gaze into his eyes. His body was tense under Robin’s hands, voice low and husky. “Robin, forgive me, please. I need to hear you say it.”

Robin’s heart twisted at the pain that lay beneath that simple request. His answer was soft, almost a whisper. “Oh, Nasir. You know I do.” Very gently, he stroked a hand across the other man’s back, tone changing to one of mild reproof. “But you should have told me, sadiqi.”

“I could not. They would have killed you. I had no choice but to leave.”

So. They were back to that. Robin set his jaw firmly, trying to sound calm and reasonable when all he wanted to do was shake the other man and rail at him in mingled anger and frustration. “Nasir, I face death every day; you know that. And your leaving doesn’t change it. If anything, it only increases my risk because I would no longer have you fighting at my side.” He paused, then said very softly, “Nasir. Sadiqi. I want … No … I need you here, with me.”

The look in Nasir’s eyes was torn between longing and despair. He lowered them, staring at his hand where it rested against Robin’s shoulder. His reply, when it came, was low and rough. “I would sooner die than hurt you, azizi. But just by my presence here, I place your life in danger.” He took a deep breath, and when he raised his eyes again they were blank, unreadable. “I should go.”

That was said with the briefest hesitation, a slight catch in the quiet voice. Robin heard the uncertainty there and latched onto it like a drowning man, hope rising in his breast. He knew Nasir didn’t really want to leave. Knew it without a doubt. It was there, in that fleeting look in his eyes and the tremor of his voice.

“No.” Robin shook his head, adamant. “I know you don’t really want to leave. It would tear you apart, just as it would me. And for what? Something that might happen? The men that you are trying so hard to protect me from may never come back. Even if they do, it’s a chance I’m willing to take. It’s my life, Nasir. Only I have the right to make that choice, not you. And I choose to take the risk.” Urgent now, needing his friend to understand, Robin clutched the Saracen hard, all his heart in his eyes. “Don’t you see? One more threat means nothing to me compared to the thought of losing you. You’re my heart, my soul. Please, stay.”

For a breathless moment, the Saracen only looked at him. Then, with a soft helpless sound, Nasir leaned in and kissed him, his answer more eloquent than any words.

~End