Look At Me

Book: Pagan’s Crusade, Catherine Jinks
Pairing: Pagan/Roland.
Length: Approximately 600 words.
Rating: PG-13
Set: After Pagan’s Crusade.
Feedback: Please.

He never was as blind as Pagan seemed to think.

He never was a fool, never quite shut his eyes to every tiny gesture Pagan made towards him, every glance and glance away. The squire always did have a trouble concentrating, but only Roland realized that it was only when he was about.

Bits and pieces collected – Lord Roland would not be taken for the fool. He had run away from the monastery for reasons he had nightmares about. Clawing himself awake, screaming nightmares. He had never known his father, and his mother very little. He had taken a sword wound across the neck and shoulder. Fallen in and out, and then very much in again, of debt. Fled – the street rat Pagan, possessing nothing and hunted down, fled into the arms of the Templar.

Roland can’t help flicking through all of this in his head as he watches Joscelin beckon the young squire into the alleyway.

As for Pagan? Pagan thinks he’s in trouble, and it’s not only the sword at the neck. He thinks his in trouble, and he doesn’t know where he’s going, and he doesn’t have anything or anyone to hang on to.

“I’ll get it! I’ll get your money! When I get paid!”

Roland can’t understand why he’s taking so long to step in, but when he finally does his sword is quite steady.

“Let go of him. Gently.”

It’s the ‘gently’ that seems to hurt the most.

---

“I have nothing but this. Nothing. And – and you’re the only one.”

They’re so different, Pagan can’t understand how someone like Roland – someone good and perfect and saintly, like Roland – can echo his own feelings so well. So different, but so very the same.

Somehow during this speech, Pagan’s hand on his arm has moved up to his chin and face, and Roland only notices at the last moment. It takes an unbelievable amount of self control to not jerk away. And not to lean in. Just to stay, very still, pale and eyes wide open.

---

“What is it? Where is it? Show me! Show me!”

Roland may be a saint, but he’s got no self control. Tying Pagan’s sleeve up at the elbow, loud and furious in the midst of the bloodshed.

“Do you think I want to lose you as well?”

God forbid.

---

And Roland’s finally set himself up for the perfect self-sacrifice, but Pagan catches onto his belt, pulling him back. Gently, he removes his hand.

“You’re too worried about getting your little foothold in heaven – ”

Roland’s trying hard not to be selfish, but Pagan’s just pointed out the major flaw in his plan.

“Pagan. Pagan, forgive me. I’m so sorry.”

Pagan wonders for a single second what Roland thinks he’s apologizing for.

“I had no right – ”

“Yes you did. I’m your squire. That’s what I’m here for.”

Ignores Roland’s babbling. God, does the man really not see what’s going on here?

“Did you change your mind, my lord? About the ransom?”

“No. I haven’t.”

“Then no, I don’t forgive you.”

He shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t.

Roland touches his cheekbone.

“I’m certainly not staying if you go.”

Roland lays a finger over his mouth.

“Well I don’t see how you’re going to stop me. If you’re dead.”

The reaction is gratifying.

---

“Please, please my lord! It’s crazy – he’s spent his whole life trying to do the right thing – and I’d pay the money myself if I could, but I’ve got nothing, nothing – ”

I can’t bear it if he dies.

Pagan’s crying, on his knees in front of Saladin with Roland behind him, clenching his teeth.

“My lord, have some mercy! Think of me. You’re all I have left.”

Can’t you see what I’m feeling?

Look at me, Roland.

Look at me.