Summary : Back from the Holy Land, Allan reflects.
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Back to the camp at last. His bunk was still there, sill the same. He didn't know why, but its sight comforted him. Like his place had always been there, waiting for him to come back. Like he was home again. Of course, he had changed, quite a bit. Everyone had changed. There had been so many things he hadn't shared with the lads… he had tried to catch up, but of course it wouldn't ever be the same as living the events first hand. And there were the things he had lived and wouldn't share with them. His past as Guy's man was to be buried somewhere deep in his mind, for no one to find. If he valued his place in the Gang, then he had to forget about his former master. At least publicly. But sometimes, at night when he knew the rest of the Gang was asleep, he would wonder. Deep down, he knew he had made the right choice, but oddly enough, he still felt a twinge of guilt for letting Guy down. He didn't give a dime for the Sheriff but Guy was a human being. He couldn't share that with Robin, of course. Especially not after… It had been months already, but still no one had ever uttered a word about it in the Gang and himself couldn't even think of it. Perhaps because he had more to dwell on than the others. He couldn't really help a series of what-ifs to cross his mind. What if he had freed Marian back in that inn at Portsmouth? What if he had stayed with Guy? Maybe if he had been there, he wouldn't have...
His thought went on to worry for his former master and – what was it? Not really a friend, no. But a little something more than just a master, though.
What about him now? How would Locksley feel to him? Or rather how would the Castle feel? He had always suspected Guy felt more at home in the Castle, especially after Marian's convenient house arrest conditions. How would be bear to see those walls again, as unchanged as Allan's bunk in Sherwood, when the rest of his world had been so dramatically shattered?
He wasn't coping well, obviously. For what he had seen of him today, he hadn't had food, nor sleep for quite a time. On the other hand, he wouldn't have been surprised to learn he had sought comfort in drinking.
Some part of him pitied him. He had lost as much as Robin, but had no one to blame but himself. At least Robin had vengeance to sustain him, and the memory of a shared love. What did Guy have? Nothing but self-hatred and the ache of an unrequited love to hold on. And this, if Allan knew him at all, would haunt him for the rest of his life.
Still awake in the sleepy camp, Allan had an odd wish. He wished he could be there for Guy. He couldn't possibly comfort Robin, their bond was on the mend at best, if not irrevocably damaged. But he could have comforted Guy, a bit. Because he had been the only one to see his feelings for Marian for what they were – obsessive, possessive, absolute, almost fanatic, kind of creepy love, but love nonetheless. And because as he had pointed out on that terrible day when he had caught him at the Trip Inn, they were a bit alike. Shades of grey. Maybe he was a lighter shade than Guy, at least he hoped so, but still. They weren't all bad, but they made mistakes, because they weren't all good either. And they had to live with the consequences of their mistakes for every new day of their lives.