Just a little piece I whipped up. Nothing special, I'm afraid.
Standard disclaimers apply.
Benched -
It was stifling inside.
Of course, this was the case every year when Storybrooke's annual New Year's Eve holiday party was in full effect. Being Saturday night didn't help the matters, as government offices and most all of the town's small businesses had shut down for a long, holiday weekend. The citizens had begun to trickle into the town hall courtroom around 9:30pm for drinks and jovial conversation. By 11:30pm the room was packed and she had had enough.
It was time to go outside for some air.
As the governmental purveyor of the party, she had to make sure she was seen at the event. For most of the evening, she had moved slowly about the room, carrying on small conversation with the locals. Although not completely disliked, Regina knew that she was not at the top of everyone's favorite party guest list.
Public speaking was one thing, but she wasn't terribly good at small talk. Mingling was something she considered an official duty for the evening. But she was mingled out. She doubted that anyone would notice if she took herself outside for even just a few minutes.
With the precision of someone on a secret mission, Regina began to drift slowly through the crowd, unaware that her movements were being followed by a pair of curious, blue eyes.
The cold air outside felt glorious as the door to the street opened. She let it shut quickly and gently behind her, hoping that no one had noticed anyone leaving. In good time she would go back in, but she needed a little time to herself to breathe. Alone.
There was a wooden bench just outside of the doors, a little ways down the street that looked rather inviting. It was backed up to the courtyard of the town hall building. A tree overhead blocked the light dusting of flurries that fell here and there from the sky. She would sit for a while and then go back inside to follow up with the party before the night's end.
As she sat on the bench, she hugged her arms tightly around her midsection. She had grabbed her wool coat on the way out, but she was missing the warmth of her scarf and hat. Luckily she had found her gloves in the pocket. She had worn a festive blue cocktail dress for the evening, but it was not at all friendly for winter weather. Goosebumps raised up her calves where the coat did not fall.
"You look uncomfortable."
Regina's head turned sharply at the voice, immediately annoyed that she had been caught ditching the party inside.
"Would you like some company? I've brought you a drink."
The man was familiar, that much was certain. In the back of her mind, she thought he was the new deputy at the police station. Ron? Reggie? His name escaped her, but his face definitely did not. He was a handsome man, with long stubble and dimpled cheeks. His eyes were warm and he seemed friendly enough for someone who must have known that his intrusion was unwanted.
Nevertheless, she scooted over a few inches on the bench to accommodate him. And much to her own surprise, she accepted the steaming drink from his hand.
"Apple cider," he explained, sipping at his own cup. "I saw you drinking one earlier, and I hear it's your secret recipe."
"Yes," she replied, staring at him unabashedly. "I bring it every year."
"I'm Robin," he introduced, smiling and nodding his head in her direction.
"Regina," she responded in kind.
"The person in charge. I don't think there's a person in town who doesn't know who you are, Madame Mayor."
"Perhaps," she frowned. "Why aren't you inside with everyone else?"
"I saw you leave."
"That's not an explanation," she argued.
"You looked like a caged animal in there. I wanted to make sure you were alright."
"Fit as a fiddle," she said, giving a tight nod.
Robin leaned back against the bench, resting his cider hand in his lap and the other hand on the wood just behind her back, but not really touching her. They were at least a foot and a half apart, but he still seemed to be in her comfort zone.
"It's really a very nice evening," he said, trying his best to start a conversation. "Maybe if these flurries get any heavier we'll have a white start to the new year."
"It's not uncommon," she said.
"Did you have a nice Christmas? I bet you spoiled your son silly."
"How do you know I have a son?"
"You hear a lot, being a deputy," he answered. "I've got a boy as well. Roland. He's three."
"Apple of your eye, no doubt," she observed his fatherly pride.
"Of course. He's a handful, but I don't know what my life would be without him."
In her mind Regina had a flash image of a child, small and lithe with black, curly hair. Dimples to match. He wore green… a cloak, maybe? And a brown shirt maybe of wool or some other rugged material. She had no idea where the thought came from.
"Henry's going through a bit of a book phase," she said. "Fairy tales and the like. I got him an illustrated edition. He's ten, but sometimes I wonder if he isn't older than he appears to be. He's always trying to analyze everyone. We're all characters in his storybook, he says."
"An active imagination isn't such a bad thing," Robin supposed. "It definitely makes for a more interesting childhood. Who does he think you are?"
"The Evil Queen," she said in a disbelief, her voice low and sultry.
Robin pictured an immaculately dressed woman in royal purples and lace. She was adorned with jewels, and her hair done up in an ornate style on her head. Her makeup was sharp, severe even. A somewhat conventional look for a villain, maybe. But the image in his mind was much too acute for his own imagination. Why did it feel more like a memory?
"I'm not so sure you're evil queen material," Robin chuckled. "After all, would an evil queen throw such a rambunctious holiday party?"
"Rambunctious?"
"Yes, rambunctious," he replied seriously. "I'm not sure if you're aware of this, but I think someone spiked the cider. People are going crazy in there."
"What?"
"I'm just teasing," he grinned. "Although, I do have some whiskey in my pocket if you're interested."
"You've only just met me and now you're trying to get me drunk?"
"Just being friendly," he commented as he pulled a flask from the inside pocket of his coat. He dumped a shot's worth of whiskey into his drink before holding the flask toward Regina, tilted in indication. She held her cup up in compliance.
"Now it's a party," he chuckled.
Regina mm'ed in response as she took a long draw from her drink. The liquid was cooling down with the temperature outside, as the weather seemed to be very, very slowly getting worse. The flurries that had been so sporadic before were now turning into fat snowflakes here and there. And indication of what was to come.
"So tell me about Regina Mills," he said, sipping on his own drink.
"What would you like to know? I'm the mayor, I enjoy apple cider, I have a son."
"And you''re the Evil Queen."
She scoffed at that.
"Where are you from?"
"I..." Try hard as she could, she couldn't drum up a memory of her origin. As common a question as that, she wasn't entirely sure anyone had ever asked her before. She was born and raised in Storybrooke, that had to be it. "I'm from here," she lied.
"Same," he replied, also caught up in the same lie.
"I've got an apple tree in my yard that I use to make the cider you're drinking. Gardening is a hobby of mine."
"No wonder this is so good. Not only a family recipe, but homegrown produce. I can appreciate that."
"Can the same be said for your whiskey?"
"Afraid not," he shook his head. "But I've got a mate that makes some damn fine moonshine if you're interested."
"You work for the sheriff's office," she deadpanned. "That's illegal."
"Only if you get caught," he replied.
She gave him a disbelieving look with eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted. This man, Robin, was audacious, she had to give him that. It wasn't often that anyone boldly admitted such illicit things to her. She was a political figure, and fully responsible for everything that went on in her town. And he was a deputy, no less!
"More whiskey?" he offered, topping off his drink a bit.
"Why not?"
The two sat in companionable silence, watching the sky fall in front of them. Flakes were beginning to stick to the cars and the pavement, giving things a slightly gray, fuzzy look. The hollow sound that accompanied the snowfall was calming, like a balm to Regina's soul. Even the occasional sniff or rustle of clothing from her unexpected evening partner didn't seem to bother.
From the corner of her eye should could see him settling back into the bench, stretching his legs a little more comfortably out in front of him. Unlike most people, he didn't seem to terribly interested in impressing her. He genuinely seemed to be there for the exact reason that he had stated. He wanted to make sure she was alright.
Most people were annoying and careless. She managed things so well on her own. People only got in her way.
He shifted his body a bit, scooting marginally closer. Regina noticed, but said nothing. His hand was on the back of the bench once more, where his thumb connected with her arm.
Again, a familiar feeling enveloped her, flooding her mind with the vision of the forest. A torch. Rugged outdoor clothing and a bow. She felt like there was a purpose, or a mission of sorts. But why would any of this really make sense? It definitely wasn't a memory. But she could see him more clearly than before, his face looking amused and the dimples on his cheeks deepening with his grin. He was different, but the same.
"Did you just-"
"What was-"
They both spoke at once, heads snapping to look at each other. Neither one really wanted to admit that anything strange was going on. She didn't dabble in fantasy or science fiction. Her feet were firmly on the ground. But still, there was something at work.
"Regina, why do I get the feeling we know each other?"
"We've known each other for half an hour," she commented, looking down at her watch.
"That's not what I mean."
"Then explain to me what you mean."
"What's my favorite color?" he asked on a whim.
"Green," she replied automatically, her words a reflex she didn't know she had. Her mouth set in a tight line.
"Your scar came from a horse riding incident," he commented, pointing toward the mark on her upper lip.
"No, it didn't."
"Then how did you get it?"
"I..." she thought hard, but the memory wouldn't come.
Abruptly, she stood and began buttoning her coat. This whole situation had gotten out of hand. She had been outside long enough, if the temperature of her nose was any indication. And although the company had been pleasant for the time she had shared it, she wasn't sure that she could indulge a perfect stranger anymore. Especially one that suspiciously seemed to know so much about her.
"Where are you going?" he said, standing quickly to stop her. His hands shot out, grabbing her elbows and stilling her motions.
"Back inside," she answered. "It's almost midnight."
"I didn't mean to frighten you," he said, frowning. "I'm just so drawn to you and I don't know why."
She wouldn't admit the same feeling, even if the attraction was most definitely there.
"Give me a second chance," he whispered. "Let me know you."
The sound of the party inside the hall became impossibly loud then as the town counted down the clock to the new year. She felt slightly guilty, as she should have been in there to welcome in midnight with all of her guests, but her feet refused to move.
Ten.
"What do you say?"
"I don't know if that's such a good idea."
He slid his hands up the backs of her arms and across her shoulders. His palms felt heavy against the wool material there, and she swore that his body heat was radiating all throughout her body from the slight contact.
Nine.
"What harm could it do?"
Eight.
"Plenty," she answered. "I just don't have the time for this."
"What do you have the time for?"
Seven.
"I work. I run this town. I take care of my son. There isn't room for anything or anyone else."
"Excuses."
Six.
"I don't need to justify myself to you."
Five.
"Then why are you?"
She stopped at that, not quite sure how to answer. Why was she justifying herself to him? He was just a stranger that brought her some cider and whiskey on a cold night. And whatever connection she felt between them was nothing more than a coincidence to be brushed away. It meant nothing.
Four.
"Regina," he pleaded. "There's something here. You feel it."
"I don't feel anything," she responded harshly, trying to make herself believe it.
Three.
Two.
One.
At the stroke of midnight Robin run his fingers up into Regina's hair, pulling her close and searing their lips together in a last-ditch effort to reason with her. It seemed like such a good idea at the time, but a half second before, his brain had clicked on, asking what he thought he was doing. But he never did anything halfway, and he was sure she was ready to punch him anyway.
Thoughts didn't matter much past the first touch of their lips anyway.
A bright light erupted from where they connected, shooting away in all directions like a shock wave. It was prismatic and fast-moving, blowing through the town like wind through the trees. With it came a flood of memory, flashes of a life forgotten.
The two pulled apart just enough to look wide-eyed at each other, fully understanding their connection. This life was false, a construction of Regina's own making. Punishment, but for a crime that was not fully understood. Robin didn't care. All he saw was the woman before him, his true love. The one who held his heart.
And in that moment she was fully committed to that second chance.
With just as much fervor as he had shown her moments before, Regina retook their embrace. She entwined her arms around his neck, pulling him close enough to smell his skin, feel the stubble of his cheek. Remember the look of his eyes, and enjoy the recognition that filled them now.
When she kissed him again it was slow, the way she liked it best. In the cold she could appreciate his warmth, enjoying the fire that sparked between the two of them. She briefly registered the feel of his hands wrapping around her waist, holding her lightly in place. Not that she planned on going anywhere. She was exactly where she was meant to be.
It wasn't until moments later that she realized they had an audience. A whole town full of people that wanted answers. As their queen, she would provide them.
After she finished her New Year's Eve kiss, of course.
Anyone else glad that the holidays are almost over? I can't wait for January. This month typically drives me nuts.
It's a fanfiction sin to read without reviewing.