Lights is the main piece of this trilogy, written for OQ advent 2017, which you should absolutely check out at onceuponanadvent dot com. There's such a wealth of talent in the OQ fandom! Thanks to Shay and Lindsay for their beta-ing skills and a very merry festive season to all!
Blinding Christmas lights, fervent carolling and a feeling of extreme merriment. That's what December is meant to be about nowadays; each passing day adding to the excitement, all to burst on December 25th, then crest into the new year, with new plans and new resolutions alike, before the ennui of January sets in.
But in Robin Locksley's world, it may as well be January. It's December 24th and he's never felt lower. He lost count of how many pints he'd had after five, of how many subsequent whiskies he'd downed when the need for something stronger struck. He is hurting so, so much, angry at his stupidity and the world at large. He gets up from his stool, swaying, knocking into someone beside him at the bar, spilling their drink. He doesn't apologise, riling the equally as inebriated man and earning himself a punch to the jaw when he can't stop mouthing off, not even able to understand his own furious babble. As security drag him out and dump him outside into the cold December air, his mind is focused on one thing and one thing only.
Regina. His Regina. Except she wasn't his anymore. Left him back on Halloween night after a post-party argument where they both said hurtful things that couldn't be taken back and she couldn't take it anymore - the spiteful words or the mindless risks he'd take with his safety both in his job and outside of it, nor the fact that they just couldn't seem to conceive a much longed for child. She'd come back to get her belongings, but despite his apologies and pleas, she was insistent it was over.
When he doesn't have her… that's when he wants her most.
He's not sure what Andy Williams was singing about. It's the damn loneliest time of the year.
He awakens some time later on a soft surface, one he slowly realises is his sofa and he has no recollection of how he got there. He sits up a little too sharply and his head spins, but he pushes through as he gets up and heads to the bathroom to pee.
He stares in the mirror as he washes his hands, the water running for far longer than necessary. He's a mess. An utter mess and he needs her. Needs her caring hands, beautiful smile and gentle voice, the feel of her arms around him as he shudders over the last case to come through sleepy Storybrooke's sheriff office, the way she would just talk to him about it. When he wanted her advice, she'd try, and when he needed her to listen, she'd do so without interruption. Looking back, he realised that she soothed him far more than he did her.
He didn't realise he'd become so selfish.
Drying his hands and stumbling back into the lounge, he's at a loss of what to do. He's clearly still drunk, but he doesn't want to sleep. He sits, staring at his pathetic attempt at decorating his apartment; some cards here and there and a sad-looking tree with a single strand of lights carelessly draped over some of the branches. He'd started with the best of intentions, thinking - hoping - it might cheer him up, but as soon as he'd begun, the memories of the Christmas before came flooding back; how he held onto Regina as she placed the star on top of the tree, with a comment that that was exactly what she was to him - his star, his guiding light. No sooner had her feet hit the floor again, she'd swatted his arm and told him, with a grin and a chaste kiss, to quit being so soppy.
With a sigh, his eyes drag back over to the coffee table, his phone and a slip of paper that wasn't there before.
Jesus Robin, you're a liability. Pull yourself together.
It's in Little John's unmistakable scrawl. In the morning, if he remembers, he'll phone, apologise and ask him what the hell happened.
He still doesn't know what to do, so he does the only thing he knows how to do; he picks up his phone, blindly fumbles through his contacts (hoping for no misdials) and finds the one person he needs to talk to, with no regard for the time.
"H- hello..?" Comes the familiar voice at the other end, croaky, laced with sleep.
"Regina? … Regina, it's me." His breath hitches as he says the one name that tastes so pleasant upon his tongue.
"Robin?" Her voice is clearer now. "Robin, it's almost midnight, I've been at work all day. You shouldn't be calling me. Couldn't it have-" She hears it then, his sobbing and her heart breaks all over again. Leaving him was a decision she'd found difficult to make and she's still unsure if it was the right one. "-Robin?"
"Sorry," he stutters, "you… you said I could call you any time and… I'm hurt, I have no idea what's happened or how I'm here and… Dear God, I miss you, Regina."
Silence, until, "you're hurt?"
"I… don't know how." He knows the bar, remembers some of the drinks, but remembers nothing of the incident that caused his lip to swell and his limbs to ache.
"Are you home?" Regina enquires, worried that he's a target in the middle of nowhere.
"Y-yes. Somehow."
"Stay where you are," she says, pulling herself up and out of bed, now fully awake, slipping on some warmer clothing as she speaks. "I'm coming over. Just let me in." She hangs up before he can respond.
She arrives twenty minutes later, pushing the apartment door open, gently calling his name to no answer. The only lights on in the apartment are from the tree and she sighs sadly at the sight of it, of the contrast of the year before, just how much their relationship took a nosedive as the year progressed. The room is bathed in a muted light and she can see he's not in the lounge, the kitchen or in fact, anywhere within her view.
That's when she notices the bedroom door ajar, so she pads over and pushes it gently, finding her beloved with his hands over his face, elbows on his knees, deep in self-loathing. Quietly, she kneels in front of him, taking one of his hands away, then the other, holding them in her own, snapping him out of his self-deprecating trance. She stands then, keeping a hold of his hands, moving to sit beside him and wordlessly, he crumples up onto her body, laying his head against her chest as she gently rubs his back, resting her head against his. He smells like a brewery, rather than his usual pine, but for now, she'll soothe him.
"I miss you, Regina," and he's sobbing again. Robin Locksley rarely cries, she knows that, but the alcohol is heightening his emotions and she doubts he'd be quite this obvious. Transparent perhaps, in his looks and actions, but not this obvious.
"I know," she whispers, her fingers lightly stroking the hair at the base of his skull. "I miss you too."
He picks his head up from her breast, gazing into her kind eyes, barely able to make her out in the dim light, and God does his head feel like lead, but he leans in to kiss her, a move she rejects by turning her head, letting his lips land on her jaw.
She's not entirely unaffected, would have considered letting him kiss her if he wasn't drunk… but he is, and so, she shakes her head. "That's not what we need right now," she murmurs against his forehead. "Have a shower, okay, then head to bed. Please."
The rejection stings and his confused mind sees it as outright rejection, rather than it being situational. "What do I have to do, Regina? What do I do to get you back?"
She raises an eyebrow before giving him a smile, one that has him yearning for her all over again. "Have a shower. That's a good first step." He stares at her before realising she's serious. "I'll stay if you'd like me to. Otherwise I'll go get you a towel and leave you in peace. Just let me know you're okay."
"No," he's quick to reply, before she can even get up. "Please stay."
She nods and indicates to the bathroom, then she takes a better look at his face, illuminated by the bedside lamp. "Let me clean up your cuts." She rises, leading him to the bathroom by his hand, seating him on the edge of the bath. She gives his body the quick once over for other injuries before she rifles through the bathroom cabinet for the supplies she needs.
Regina makes quick work of it, muttering apologies when the stings smart, running her finger gently over his split lip when she's done. "It's gonna hurt tomorrow and you're gonna have a bit of a black eye." She smiles at him kindly. "Just in time for Christmas too. Still handsome to me though." The kiss she delivers to his cheek is just the gift he needs and he catches her hand again, squeezes her fingers gently, reluctantly letting their connection break as she leaves the room, closing the door behind her.
Regina sighs to herself as she hears the water start, pulling off her cardi and leggings, leaving her in her nightshirt. She'd had a feeling she'd be staying.
Heading to the closet, she pulls out a towel, then a pair of boxers, throwing them onto the bed before knocking on the glass of the ensuite door.
He's not gonna hear, she thinks to herself, so she goes in anyway. "Robin?" She hears a hum in response. "Towel's just on the heater, okay?"
He pulls the shower curtain to and she unashamedly stares at him. He's in good shape, toned and she loves his arms. They feel safe, strong and they encase her so lovingly that she feels nothing can touch her.
"Something up?" Robin asks with a grin, feeling a little more human and just a little smug.
"No, I just…" she ends lamely with a shrug. She was staring, the heat in her cheeks spreading right across her face. "Enjoy the rest of your shower, I'll make myself comfortable." She shakes her head, opting to close the door behind her and head out to get some water and aspirin for Robin's impending hangover.
Regina looks at the tree again, sad. It's just a tree, she reasons, but her eyes water. It looks so bare, untouched and unloved and she thinks it's a cruel metaphor for how they both felt in the lead up to and after their split. Wiping away the single tear that's running down her cheek, she heads to the store cupboard, pulling out the box of decorations that she stashed away the previous January, and begins to rifle through, pulling out wreaths, streamers, lights, everything to give this home - their home - the touch of Christmas it needs. Not a surface is left untouched as Regina works her magic, expertly placing baubles and festivity around the room.
"Regina?" Robin stops in his tracks as he takes in the sight before him; the tree now worthy of being called a Christmas tree, finally sparkling with life, the lights dancing up and down the window but most importantly, his beautiful ex-girlfriend with tinsel in hand, draping the colourful material across the picture frames above his fireplace.
He's still unsteady on his feet as he bounds over to her, his arms around her in moments. She doesn't even freeze, nor protest, she simply embraces him in return, taking solace in his usual woodsy scent, eyes closing as she finally feels at home.
As they pull back to look at each other, Regina places the red garland in her hand across Robin's clothed shoulders.
"Are you feeling better?" Regina whispers and Robin nods.
"Less drunk," he notes, and quite relieved too, before looking up and over her shoulder. "The tree doesn't have a star."
She shakes her head. "I wanted us to do it together." She lets go of him, kneeling down to take the symbol from inside the box. It's Robin who drags the footstool from under the table to Regina and she steps on, Robin's hands firmly on her hips as she carefully places the star atop the tree, giving it its finishing touch. They stand there still, admiring Regina's handiwork, letting themselves be fully lost in the moment, of the wounds that are beginning to heal.
"I could do with a good night's sleep and no hangover," Robin states after they've finished putting up the last few decorations, his arms back around her waist.
She reaches for the packet of aspirin she'd left forgotten on the side and holds it up. "That's what this is for," she quips. He nods, reluctantly letting go of her in search of water. Regina flops down onto the sofa at that, staring at the tree again, the bright, flickering lights, how alive it looks. Robin sits beside her once he's medicated himself, his arm coming around her shoulders.
"Will you stay?" He asks into her hair, pressing a gentle kiss into the soft strands and although Regina thought that was the plan either way, she decides to leave it be, replying with just a simple bob of her head, before she folds her legs up underneath herself, as her arm comes to drape carefully across his middle. Once comfortable, she pulls a blanket over them both, knowing they're both watching the formation of lights before them.
Regina looks up at the clock on the mantle.
1.30am.
Christmas Day.
"Merry Christmas, Robin." She points at the clock with a gentle smile, grasping for his hand, lacing their fingers together. He whispers it back, squeezing her just a little tighter.
"I love you, Regina," Robin whispers in a voice that's barely audible, one that only Regina could hear and she twists her head to look at him.
"And I love you, Robin." Her eyes close just a moment before his lips meet hers in a careful, close-lipped kiss which carries no heat, but a great deal of affection. His cut stings, but he would rather feel the aftermath of a physical altercation than the pain of losing the woman in his arms again.
They fall asleep like that; on the sofa, cuddled into one another, Regina never leaving his side. When they awaken on Christmas morning, they exchange kisses and a promise that the day would be theirs, that the coming year would be theirs. Everything that follows is just right.