Warning: major character death, and this isn't nice. Don't read if you aren't into spoilers. Let me also add that this is the last thing I want to happen.
So this idea popped into my head in March when I was on my way home from Vancouver and I finished it this past week, following the promo for this week's episode (hadn't yet seen the episode stills). It's Inspired by a range of songs, all melancholic. Any formatting errors are mine - posting from an iPad is very time-consuming.
Brief mentions of Peanut or whatever to you choose to call her.
Thank you, as ever, to my beta Lindsay.
Enjoy, if that's the right phrase...
She sees him in her dreams.
In the beginning, after his death, she saw him every night. Every time she fell into a deep sleep, he would be there, but he was unreachable. He would have a vacant look in his eyes which haunted her, which was nothing like how he looked at her when he drew his final breath, adoration (and pain from both the physical agony and the thought of leaving her, his son and the daughter he never got to know) in his eyes, using those precious moments to tell her - finally - that he loves her. That he always had. He fell unconscious almost straight after and she chastises herself for not having said it sooner. Or ever. She's not sure he heard her respond in kind, cradling his head as he died in her arms.
This happened in the first few weeks, whilst she was coming to terms with his death. He'd come into focus, slowly, as time went on, but he never spoke, only looked straight through her. She tried to speak every time, but no words came, not even a sound. He was dressed as the last time she had held him, the wound from the sword seeping red through his clothing, a painful reminder that that was what happened, how he left her.
Months passed and, as she was dealing with her grief, he came closer and closer to her, his eyes still blank but their surroundings becoming clearer. They were in the forest – the enchanted forest to be exact, the spot where they first met – but still, she couldn't speak, he didn't speak. She had tried to reach him but was unable to move, not a limb, not a muscle. The thing that haunted her most about these dreams was that he continued to have an unreadable expression on his face. Did he blame her for what happened? Did he believe she could have done more? Did he know she loved him? Why didn't he tell her? Questions she had tried to ask, over and over, with no luck.
A year passed and, after the grief had abated to somewhat of an aching ebb soothed only by her family surrounding her, the visions of him became less frequent, but when she did see him, when she was taken back into that forest, he was closer. His lips were upturned into a smile (one she missed every day) and she felt she could return said smile, despite their muteness. It was comforting.
She saw him once or twice a week and the visions were unrelenting when she needed support. So when a new threat came to Storybrooke, he was there again. She tried to speak again and of course, no words came out, so she just mouthed the words. He looked to be listening, registering, although he couldn't hear… then it occurred to her. Could he hear her thoughts? She concentrated on the words in her head and after explaining the latest curse threatening the town, she told him how much Roland missed him but was safe and happy with her, how his daughter was hitting her milestones. At the mention of his children, he smiled. That's when she knew he could hear her and all at once, she started to cry, screaming internally that she loved him deeply and always would. He stepped forward at that, closing the distance between them until they were but a breath apart. She raised her hand to touch him but something in his look warned her not to. Lowering her arm, she asked why and she asked ferociously. Then she heard his voice in her head. A soft, pleading rendition of her name that had her gasping and blindly reaching for her lost beloved. His tone spoke volumes; now was not the time to embrace.
He continued to appear to her in sleep. Whenever the threat to her family got too much, he would speak to her in his accented voice, assuring her she was doing the right thing, sticking to her plan, not succumbing to the darkness. These dreams - and her children - were holding her together. When the threat was neutralised, he appeared far less. She knew she missed him dearly, but she needed to somehow continue on with her life.
He came to her when she least expected it. She had had near on dreamless dreams for months, when she found herself surrounded by familiar green hues and the scent of pine. Regina looked around - she was calm, the pain still present but she had learnt to deal and embrace the memories they had together, so why was she here? Why was he here?
When Robin appeared, his form was sharper than ever, he was close enough to touch, and when he spoke, his voice was the clearest it had ever been. Robin told her this would be the last time she would see him. Regina shook her head at that, pleading, telling him this was what was keeping her together. He simply shook his head back. That was not the case - she was coping, keeping his memory alive, but he wours always be in her thoughts and when she needed him most, she only needed to think of him, and he would be right alongside her. The tears in Regina's eyes clouded her vision as he stepped in towards her and took her hands. The touch was cool, then burned as she recounted the feel of him, the comfort of their love and the anguish of their final meeting. He raised his hand to her cheek and whispered that she, their children, were his future. They were the great Robin Hood's legacy. Then he embraced her, his fingers tangled in her hair, her head against his chest as they both silently sobbed their goodbyes to one another.
When Regina awoke the following morning, alone, she felt a strange sort of peace. And when she laid a single arrow entwined with a rose at his grave on the next anniversary of his death, she felt him beside her.