A/N – Just a short one-shot, featuring Allan and Will, and their friendship.

Disclaimer – I do not own Robin Hood BBC, and never have.

Allan sat alone in the fading light of day, staring as the orange sunlight shone through the summer leaves on the trees. He knew that, back at the camp, all the other men were enjoying a meal that Much had created – he could smell it from here. He knew that it was almost time to go back, but he chose not to yet – the woods looked so beautiful this time of year, this time of day; he couldn't bear to leave it quite yet. And he only felt free to think about all the sorts of things that were running through his mind when he was completely alone. This time of year and this sort of evening made him think of so many things that he never would have thought of otherwise. But on a day like this,

He heard someone tramping through the leaves behind him, and he turned. He saw Will Scarlet coming toward him, shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand.

"Allan!" he called. "Are you coming? We're eating."

Allan motioned for him to come over.

"Does the food look like anything edible tonight?" Allan asked.

Will laughed, sitting beside him. "Actually, it does look quite good tonight."

Allan nodded. "I'll be there in a moment," he replied.

Will looked at him, concerned. "Why are you sitting out here by yourself?" he asked. "Is something wrong?"

Allan considered the question for a moment, his eyes downcast.

"No, nothing really," he answered finally. "Just…it's been nearly a year since my brother - you know, Tom – since he was killed."

Will seemed to understand. "Oh, has it," he said quietly. "It doesn't seem that long ago."

Allan nodded, looking back at his friend. "And it's just got me thinking. You know. About how much longer we all have here," he looked at the light coming through the trees. "We all take for granted that we have a long time left to keep doing what we're doing. To keep helping people. To keep trying to restore the goodness that there once was here, before the Holy War. But really…" he trailed off, and thought for a moment before he spoke again. "Really – you never know how much time we all have left, before we get taken off the face of the planet – obliterated – and then, forgotten."

Will shook his head. "Maybe we have no time at all left," he said softly. "Any breath could be our last. But forgotten?" he took a breath. "No. Never."

"But so many people die and so many are born. Every single day. And how do we know that anything we do – no matter how important it seems – will be remembered?" Allan tried to keep his voice from shaking, and he put his hand over his eyes, shielding them from the sun.

After a pause, Will cleared his throat. "You remember your brother, Allan," he said. "Because you cared about him. About the things he did." He put his hand on his friend shoulder, speaking earnestly. "So, likewise, no matter what happens, you will be remembered. We all will, by the people who care about us. And you have many of those."

Allan looked up at Will and smiled slightly.

"Thanks," he said. "For saying that."

"Of course," Will said.

Allan shook his head. "I suppose we should go back before Much loses his temper," he said. "We don't want his meal to go unappreciated. You know how he gets."

Will laughed. "Right," he said. "Let's go."

But they sat there for a minute longer, observing as the sun finished its journey through the sky and sank, low and orange, below the horizon.