"I'm Sorry I have to Leave You"
We buried him beside his mother. And Guy beside him. They had died as brothers, and we honored Guy as such, but few mourned him the way Robin was mourned. Despite the determination of the gang to go on as Robin Hood, carrying his name along in our hearts, there was still a deep, raw ache that would not go away. We are lost without our leader, our brother, our friend.
It was a week before I could sleep through a night without being awakened by my own childish sobbing. Those first days I took to running into Sherwood, back to the camp to hide in my old bed and pretend for a moment that Robin lay not far away, alive and well and ready to lead us all again. But it was only fantasy. It was not real, and every morning my heart broke all over again.
Within the first month after it happened we had rebuilt enough shelters to exist as close to Sherwood as we all could. We knew that at any moment Prince John's men could come riding into our lives and end us all for good before King Richard ever reached England's shores. The fear was as solid and real as the grief, and we lived in it every day, and we hurt together as we waited for the King.
We took to gathering in the evenings and Kate, John, Tuck and I began telling stories about Robin, to keep him alive, if only for a small time. Archer drank in every drop of his brother's memories as we shared about heists we had pulled, people we had saved, plans Robin had made, things he had said and did and been. We told them about Guy as well, about the time Guy saved John's life and how Guy had turned out all right in the end, and that while he had lived for the wrong reasons he had died for the right ones, and that made all the difference. We did it for Robin, because even after Guy killed Marian, Robin had given him a chance, just like he did Allan. We told them how Allan was a hero and died a hero's death and would always be remembered as the most loyal man in Sherwood.
Now it has been nearly a year. King Richard has returned. He came to see his hero in person, and joined us in our grief as we led him to the grave of the man who saved so much of England for her King. The Lionheart wept with us. I remember feeling as if a knife had pierced my heart and would never be drawn out again.
The King awarded me Bonchurch, just as Robin had promised, and we live there, Kate and I. She has found room in her heart for me, though we both know that Robin will always hold a bigger piece. Bonchurch is full of the sounds of life. Half the peasants around live inside the castle walls – and the other half seem to live in the keep itself. I don't mind. They make me think of Robin, and how much he would have wanted this peace and safety for the people.
Sometimes I walk the paths of Sherwood. I touch the earth where Robin died, see the places where he shined and smell the leaves and wind and excitement of that time we lived as outlaws and escaped death. I will never have my best friend back, but because of him a whole new life has sprung up from the floor of this land; a land now of mercy and healing and in that land…in that land he lives.