Disclaimer: I do not own Robin Hood BBC or any of its awesome characters.
A/N: Just a quick one-shot brought on by my angst after re-watching the final episode.
It wasn't supposed to end like that. His hands bore the blood of his friend, Allan-a-Dale. His last words had been distrust and anger. He had choked the life from him, and bound him there, unable to escape. He had left him for dead, without knowing it. And now he would never be able to put it right. It was a terrible day. The loss of Robin was an enormity. But John had been able to say his goodbyes. It was a bitter blessing. Robin had died a hero, just as he had said- a good day to die. It was not a good day for Allan to have died. John could not help but wonder what had happened in those last few moments. Was it quick or painful? Was he afraid? Did he stand up to the Sheriff, and die with a cry of "Robin Hood!" on his lips? John would never know the answers. All he knew was that Allan had died alone. His piercing blue eyes had been haunted even in death. How did it feel, John wondered, to die believing you were alone? For all Allan had known, they had given him up to be a traitor. John could not bear that thought: he would never have the chance to apologize.