Disclaimer: This version of Robin Hood belongs to the BBC. The song ("Behind Blue Eyes") belongs to The Who, except for the extra verse, which belongs to Limp Bizkit.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who reviewed my other fics, especially The North Wyn, who reviewed ALL of them (your reviews have given me the confidence to keep writing--sorry this is another depressing one... :P), and Biancaneve, for pointing out that even if I think a line in the show would have been so much better if it had belonged to a particular character, that doesn't mean it did. This one is for you two :)
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man
To be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
And no one knows
What it's like to be hated
To be fated to telling only lies
Y'know, I like being appreciated as much as the next guy. Probably even more (unless the next guy happens to be Robin, but I'm not even gonna go there). But it'd be nice to have some variety there, instead of just, "Let's have Allan do it. That way, if he gets caught, he can just lie his way out." After all, that's what I'm good at, isn't it? Yup, that's me: Allan A Dale, resident pathological liar. Every family should have one.
But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
It's not what they think, though. They all assume I lie for the fun of it, that it doesn't bother me. It's like they think it's a hobby of mine or something, but I never really had time for hobbies, what with the whole, "stay alive" thing. The lying's more of a side effect of that, like a defense mechanism or something. I'd get caught stealing something, and automatically an excuse would just come flying out of my mouth. After a while it became second nature to lie, even if I wasn't doing anything wrong. It was just easier that way. No one can find anything to hurt you with if nothing you say to them is true.
I don't have a problem with that part. It's when I think about it afterwards that I start feeling guilty.
No one knows what it's like
To feel these feelings
Like I do
And I blame you
So I did the obvious thing: I stopped thinking about it. Of course, that got harder after I started caring about the people I lied to. It used to be that I'd just meet someone, and a couple days later I'd be gone. Preferably after I grabbed some good stuff to sell later. But with Robin and the lads, it was different. When I started working for Gisbourne, everything started to feel like a lie. Every word, every nod, every breath. The others were all so irritatingly honest that the more I tried to bury my conscience, the higher they dragged it back up.
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
But as much as it hurt, I couldn't very well tell them about it, could I? I know Djaq knew something was up from the beginning, because Djaq knows everything. But it got harder to hide it from the rest of them, too. I didn't like what I was doing, but I just couldn't stop. I wasn't going to get a second chance at this. If Gisbourne caught me again, he'd kill me on the spot. And apart from the guilt, it wasn't bad. For one thing, I had more money than I'd ever had in my life. Yeah, so at least some of it probably should've gone to the poor, but I'd earned this money, hadn't I? I was taking a big risk for it, so I deserved the compensation.
But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
And I was taking a huge risk. 'Cause if Robin caught me...well, I know what he would do, because he did it. Chucked me out, didn't he? I was surprised he didn't kill me on the spot. Not sure why he didn't, actually. Momentary lapse in judgment on his part, I guess. Even after everything I did, some part of him still trusted me. Some part of him believed I would never tell Giz where the camp was, or what Marian did when he wasn't watching. But what reason did I ever give him to believe me? If I don't know the answer to that, there's no way he can. I'm sure he'll figure it out eventually. And then he'll be back to finish the job, I expect. Can't say that I blame him.
No one knows what it's like
To be mistreated, to be defeated
Behind blue eyes
No one knows how to say
That they're sorry and don't worry
I'm not telling lies
Djaq told me and the lads a story once about this shepherd kid that kept yelling about a wolf eating his sheep. He was bored, and just wanted to get some attention from the people in his village, but then when a wolf actually came, everyone ignored him. Sound familiar? Except I'm not the boy who cried wolf, I'm more like the boy who cried, "You can trust me." And when I think about that, and about the lads, and about the sick irony of the fact that I abandoned the man who saved my life twice, practically before he even knew my name, to work for the bastards that murdered my brother, I'm neither. Then I'm just the boy who cried.
But my dreams they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance
That's never free
Maybe someday everything can go back to the way it was. Maybe Robin will let me back in the gang. Maybe the lads won't hate me anymore. Maybe Richard will come home soon, and Prince John and the Sheriff and Gisbourne will be gone, and everyone'll be happy.
No one knows what it's like
To be the bad man, to be the sad man
Behind blue eyes
And maybe I'm not a traitor. Maybe I'm not a liar. But then again I'm Allan A Dale, aren't I?