A/N: I did my research the best I could but I think it's clear I'm dumb as fuck, so if you notice something that isn't accurate, like, at all, please let me know and I'll try to fix it. Also, if there are any mistakes, please point them out. Thank you! And thank you for taking the time to read, it means the world to me!
Day Three
Prompt #84 — He's in for robbery. She's in for murder. A prison romance blossoms when Robin Locksley notices a quiet inmate across the fence on her daily one hour out on the yard.
He was in for robbery, a harmless one he was forced to commit due to unfortunate circumstances that left him sleeping on the streets. It got him five years in prison, the maximum sentence, no thanks to the worthless attorney he was appointed by the court.
She was in for murder—a serious offense she swore wasn't premeditated, her clean record proved she never had any trouble with the law before the dreadful incident that landed her behind bars. It was self-defense. She had to do what she had to do to be safe and, sadly, it meant having to use a firearm, pushing her sentence from a possible ten years to a twenty-five with a chance of parole.
Their friendship was unusual. It started with a 'what are you reading?' from across the wired, metal fence separating the two facilities they were in. She looked up at him, brows knitted in the most adorable way, then looked around before pointing at herself to confirm if he really was talking to her. He was. There wasn't anyone else around except for her, and she was the one holding the paper he was referring to. A letter, she told him, from her five-year-old son who was being looked after by her cousin in another state. Henry, she said was his name, her bright, little prince. Very artistic, too. He could tell from the drawing she showed him—all stick figures drawn in different colored crayons. It was precious—a mess, for sure, nevertheless, precious.
It wasn't that what intrigued him, though. It was her. Something about her was so captivating that he spent the remainder of his daily one hour of freedom listening to her go on about her son. And he returned the next day to do the same, and the day after it and the day after that, too.
Quickly, it became their new thing. One would wait for the other by the metal fence and they'd spend the entire time talking, catching up with one another's lives until they had to part ways for the day.
"I was worried you might not show up," Robin joked at the sight of his new best friend finally approaching, a beam wider than usual spread across her face. "You seem in an awfully joyous mood today."
"I'm feeling very joyous," Regina confirmed, pressing herself against the fence, only to take a step back at the sound of the correctional officer clearing her throat a few feet away. She murmured an apology under her breath and then smiled again. "I have good news. Great, really!"
He chuckled and nodded for her to continue. "Do tell."
"We got approved for an appeal," she answered, her voice barely above a whisper, as if it was a secret, not something everyone might've already heard of. News like that spread like wildfire in jail. She pulled her lower lip between her teeth, a failed attempt to contain her obvious excitement. "My mother finally caved and decided to help. I'm not sure where the change of heart came from but I'm not questioning a blessing." She chuckled. "Not when the guy she hired is supposedly the best of the best."
"R—really?" he stammered. That was great news, it was superb. If the lawyer was the best of the best, as she claimed, she could be out in no time, and it was great. Then why the hell wasn't he so thrilled about it? "Regina, that's marvelous. I'm…I'm happy for you."
But it was either his expression or tone that failed him, because her smile faltered and she shook her head as she moved closer to the fence.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Nothing's wrong," he hurriedly responded, offering her a bigger smile for reassurance. "Why on earth would you think there's anything wrong?"
She was quiet for the longest time, staring at him wordlessly with her lips pursed before shrugging. "I don't know. I just—I feel it. The vibes I'm getting from you."
"Well, nothing's wrong. Everything's absolutely perfect." He chuckled, sneaking a finger into one of the small gaps in the fence to poke the tip of her nose, causing it to scrunching up and a for smile to stretch over her face. There it was—the smile he loved. The smile he was going to miss seeing everyday.
What the fuck was he thinking falling for an fellow inmate? Her appeal aside, it would've never worked out anyways. She was in for twenty-five years.
Robin shook the dreadful thoughts out of his mind and cleared his throat, mustering up the best smile he could for her sake. "Now, any new letters from Mister Henry?"
"Oh, plenty!"
And just like that, they fell back into their new familiarity.
It was insane how an entire year went by so fast. It felt as if it was just yesterday when Regina told him about her appeal, and there she was, preparing to leave prison life behind after winning her retrial. She was found innocent after a surveillance camera from the neighbor's home captured her defending herself, just as she claimed when it fell to deaf ears. Her fiancé beating her, shoving her around, holding the same gun she used on him to her head. It was self-defense, no doubt, and the jury decided on that, too.
Robin was ecstatic over the news. Living behind bars wasn't easy. He had more enemies than friends, people that were out there to get him over the silliest things, such as defending himself over verbal abuse or others. Just because she was locked up in a woman's facility, it didn't mean they were any better.
At the same time, though, he was miserable.
He spent almost two years of his life dedicating the single hour he got to spend outdoor for that woman, and every hour he found himself falling harder for her. But she didn't know and he wasn't strong enough to let her know. There was no point in it anyways. She'd leave prison and all the bitter memories it gave her, head back home to New York where her son was waiting for her, just as she told him she'd do. There was no point in confessing his feelings to a woman he'll never cross paths with.
It was remarkable while it lasted.
"So, you're finally going to be free tomorrow huh?" Robin asked, a smile he forced on plastered across his face. "No more waking up whenever they want or having a bedtime—"
"Or that godawful meatloaf on Mondays," Regina interrupted with a chuckle.
"Oh, don't even get me started on that. It's as bad as the bland mashed potatoes it comes with," he said. "I honestly didn't think you could ever go wrong with potatoes and they managed to prove me wrong."
They laughed in unison, then it dawned him—he was going to miss her terribly. He was going to miss the way she'd chirp his name in greeting, and beam and snicker at his silly jokes. They weren't even that funny or funny at all, but she still laughed every time. He was going to miss her complaining about how appalling the food was and rave about her cooking—specifically, her famous lasagna. He was going to miss talking to her everyday, hear the stories she had to share with him about her son and his little adventures. An hour wasn't remotely enough, but an hour would've been better than nothing at all.
"Mills, time to get going," the correctional officer standing at the other side of the fence barked. Has it really been an hour already? It felt like minutes.
"I'm going to miss you," Robin blurted out. "A lot."
"I'm gonna miss you too, Robin," Regina replied, sneaking her pinky through the gap, and he wasted no time entwining his around it.
It wasn't the kiss he was dreaming of, it wasn't even a hug, it was something, though.
"You take good care of yourself and Henry, alright?" he whispered, and she nodded, sniffling as her eyes brimmed with tears. Gods, if only he could reach over and wipe them away. "Hey, no crying. You're gonna make me cry, too." He chuckled halfheartedly, just a little something to lighten the mood, to lift her spirits. "And you don't wanna see that, trust me. I look hideous when I cry."
It did the job. She laughed.
"I'll keep in touch," she promised, and he nodded, because claiming she wouldn't would be rude even though he was certain it'll be their reality. She was young and free, and she had so much to do, so many things to make up for during the time she was locked up. She wasn't going to keep in touch.
"Go," he whispered. Any further delay and it'll be harder to let go. Too agonizing to bear. "Goodbye, Regina."
"No," she argued. "See you later, Robin."
Despite his somber mood, that brought a genuine smile to his face. It was what they always told each other after the end of their daily one hour by the fence. Always 'see you later' and never 'goodbye'.
Only, it truly was goodbye this time around.
Three months went by and the other side of the fence remained unoccupied, and yet, Robin found himself standing in the same spot he stood at for the past two years everyday, as if he'd blink one day and Regina would be right there in front of him again.
It was nothing more than wishful thinking, though. She was probably hundreds of miles away in New York, finally reunited with her little boy, making up for the lost time they spent apart and getting her life back on track, while he was stuck in Maine, slipping further and further into depression.
Did he ever cross her mind? It was very unlikely. Her time in prison wasn't something she would reminisce about, whereas she never left his. It was impossible not to think about her when everything reminded him of her. The fence they spent hours talking beside, the small notes she slipped him through the gaps, which he still kept and cherished, and the sweet, apple wedges included in Tuesday lunches she enjoyed. It seemed to be the one thing she actually tolerated and he'd snuck her his portion every time.
He couldn't not think of her—she was everywhere, everyday.
"Locksley," the guard called out, startling him as he unlocked his cell with force. "You've got a visitor."
A visitor? Who could it possibly be when his parents were deceased and he was an only child, any other relatives he had that he knew of were all the way back in England. As for his friends, he'd not heard from them in years.
Robin was brisk on his feet, brows pinched together in confusion. "I—I think there might be a little mixup," he stammered, because he had no one to visit him.
"You've got a visitor," the guard repeated irritatedly, emphasizing every word. "It's up to you if you wanna head over there and see them or not, but quit wasting my time." He huffed.
It was his choice, he had the right to decline, but humans were curious by nature, and his curiosity got the best of him.
Handcuffed, he was led out of his prison cell and down an unfamiliar corridor, into an unfamiliar room he'd never been into before and forced down onto one of the two uncomfortable, metal chairs available. If he wasn't told beforehand someone was visiting him, by the looks of the room, he would've assumed he was in some sort of trouble, brought in to be interrogated about something.
The heavy door closed with a clunk behind him, followed by the clicking of the key as the guard secured it shut, as if he would escape. He wouldn't. It'd be stupid of him to consider it. Although prison wasn't paradise, it was a hell lot better than sleeping on the streets and living off of food scraps gathered from trashcans and whatever pennies the kind people would so generously spare.
It couldn't have been more than a few minutes but it felt like a lifetime as he waited alone in the room. It was so quiet it was almost maddening. How could the inmates in solitary stay sane? Then, just when he thought it would never happen, the door opened, revealing the last person he excepted to see.
"Regina?" Robin whispered, his eyes wide as he took in her appearance. She looked different, so different from what he was used to. Gone were her long, dark curls, replaced by a short bob, and it looked good. It was unusual but she was as pretty as she was the last time he'd seen her. Stunning, even. A short, black, tight-fitting pencil dress in place of the orange jumpsuit she always wore and her face no longer bare—he wasn't an expert when it came to makeup, but he could tell she used an eyeliner, making her brown eyes pop a little more, perhaps some mascara to make her lashes seem thicker than they were, too, and red looked phenomenal on her full, pouty lips. It took everything in him not to kiss her.
She came. She really came.
"Oh, Regina." Realization finally set in and he jumped on his feet and ran to her, meeting her halfway for an embrace. His arms wrapped around her and his face burrowed into the crook of her neck. "You're here," he muttered, and a smile graced his face at the feeling of her lips pressing to the side of his head.
"I told you I'm coming."
He forgot his surroundings, the fact that he was in prison where he was most likely prohibited from doing that until an ahem forced him to look up, and there she was, the same blonde correctional officer that always seemed to be around wherever they were, standing by the door with a hint of a smile visible on her lips.
"You've got an hour," she reminded them. "Take advantage of that."
Oh, would he take advantage of every last second.
It was a second chance, no way was he going to let that slip from him.
"I hope you saved me the apple wedges."
"I did, but by week two, there was a horrendous smell in my cell and it did not come from Will."
They laughed out loud, and it was if nothing had changed.