A/N: This takes place sometime in the future after the events of season 5. No baby, but other events involving Zelena happened. None of the characters are mine.
This was not how the night was supposed to go. Not in the least bit. Regina hadn't even entertained the thought when Snow had offered to take the boys for the night, insisting she didn't mind if it meant Regina and Robin could have the night off, a night to relax. And that's what they had planned- a quiet night in, just the two of them where they could enjoy each other and not worry about anything but who gets to be on top.
That is not what happened.
She supposes she starts it, coming home irritated and edgy thanks to dealing with the repercussions of closing the portal to the Underworld, an unexpected visit from Gold, and a migraine she can feel brewing behind her right eye. But normally Robin isn't affected by her bad moods. Normally he's the calming voice, the one soothing and reassuring, or giving her space and an ear when she's ready to talk. Normally.
But he had a rough day too, apparently, and he is in a bad mood himself, such a rare occasion she finds she doesn't know how to navigate his ire. And his sharp edges have grated against her own and she hadn't meant to slam the pantry door, but slam it does and it has Robin whipping around from the sink, demanding just what her goddamn problem is.
It catches her off-guard, especially since they had barely exchanged greetings when she came into the kitchen, but does he really want to go there? Because she is raw and angry and she will fucking go there if that's what he wants. Bring it the fuck on.
"What did you just say to me?" she snaps, eyes narrowing.
"I asked what your goddamn problem is since you might as well tell me instead of stomping around here like a petulant child," he snips, head quirking in a way that makes her feel as if he's mocking her.
"What the hell did you just call me?" she nearly shouts, almost amazed at how quickly her own anger sparked.
"I called you a child because you always behave like a bloody child when you're pissed off and I'm always the parent that has to make everything better," he counters, palms flattening against the granite of the island countertop.
Oh he did fucking not. "You asshole," she seethes. "You think I fucking need you to fix my problems for me?"
"I know you do."
She scoffs. "Well, that's fucking hilarious considering you are one of my biggest problems," she accuses and oh, that one stings, that one hits the mark dead center, she can see it in his eyes.
His lips curl in fury, ears turning bright red. "I could say the same bloody thing about you," he counters and she feels that one deep down somewhere, a place currently stifled by her growing anger.
"Oh, come off it. You're still just pissed off about Daniel," she jabs. Not that he had been jealous exactly when Daniel had made his return from the Underworld, but he had grown touchy, more possessive than usual but not really controlling. If she had been calmer, had her head about her, she would have felt bad about picking this particular bone, but she knew it would get one hell of a reaction out of him.
"And you're still just pissed off about Marian," he snaps and oh, he's going to bring that into this?
"I was never pissed off about Marian," she defends, remembering the time Robin's wife actually came back from the dead with the rest of the Underworld. "The real Marian, at least. Sure you can tell the difference?" She should not be going here, the rational part of her mind thinks. Abort mission, abort mission, abort-
"Sure you can tell it's Daniel without his heart in his chest?" he shoots and fuck him. Fuck him, fuck them, fuck every fucking thing that has swirled around them the last few weeks. He brought out the big guns? She's bringing out the goddamn tanks.
"At least I'd be able to tell it's Zelena's cunt on my dick."
She regrets the words as soon as they come out of her mouth. Regina, you fucking asshole, the rational part of her mind screams as Robin's face goes blank, her words taking a few moments to register. When they do, the rage is gone from his face and only hurt and shock are left. He looks at her, pain in his eyes, and she is a fucking asshole, isn't she? He turns and walks out of the kitchen and panic starts to bubble up inside her.
"Robin," she says wearily, apologetically. She goes after him, hearing the front closet open and close and when she comes into the foyer, he's shrugging on his coat and opening the front door. It's raining, but he doesn't care apparently because he goes outside, ignoring a second call of his name and slamming the door behind him.
"Robin," she whispers, plunking down on the one step in the foyer, feeling incredibly exhausted. Why had she said that? Why had they been fighting about that at all? Daniel and Marian (well, the real Marian) had never been points of contention between them before but suddenly they seemed so important and then she went and threw his sexual assault in his face. God, she is such an asshole.
She wants him to come back, needs him to come back so she can beg forgiveness, promise she didn't mean it because she didn't. She looks over at the clock. It was six-thirty when he left. It's going on nine before she leaves the step.
Robin, it's me. I'm sorry. I didn't mean any of it, I promise. Please come home so we can talk about it. I made dinner. It'll be on the table when you get back. Please come back. Okay, I love you, bye.
Robin, call me, please. It's getting late and I don't want to go to bed before we talk about this. Please call me. I love you, bye.
Robin, I understand if you don't want to come back tonight, but call me please. It's late and I'm getting worried. I just need to make sure you're okay. Call me. I love you, bye.
Hey, Will. It's Regina.
Hey, your Majesty. What's up?
Have you seen Robin?
Recently?
Tonight.
Oh, tonight? No, I haven't seen him since… I think Thursday.
Oh. Okay. Thanks.
Everything alright?
Just, call me if you hear from him, okay?
Yeah, sure thing.
Thanks. Good night.
G'night.
Robin, call me. Please… I love you… bye.
It's one-thirty and he still hasn't called. Will hasn't either. Regina's sitting on the couch, phone in her hands, staring at the screen. Waiting for it to light up with Robin's smile, the picture she had taken of him one morning when Roland had tried to make them breakfast. It had been a disaster (broken eggs everywhere, a burnt out toaster, milk sloshed across the counter and dripping down the cupboards), but an adorable disaster at that and Robin had been chuckling through the whole ordeal. She had taken the picture of him laughing as a joke, telling him she'd use it as proof later when he was grumbling about having to scrub the kitchen from floor to ceiling ("Because milk stinks when it dries, Robin." "Love, I'm pretty sure he didn't get milk on top of the refrigerator.").
The story had always made her smile before. Now it stings her heart and pricks at her eyes. She's gone and fucked everything up with her stupid temper and loose tongue. He won't even call her. She deserves this, she supposes, for being so careless with her words and so easy with her acid. She deserves his anger, but can't he just let her know he's okay so she can stop worrying and maybe get some sleep (not going to happen, not after a fight like that)?
After leaving the step in the foyer, she had made dinner (old-fashioned meat pies, one of Robin's favorites from his youth) and had waited for him to come home so they could maybe eat together, but after an hour, hunger got the best of her and she dined alone. She had waited in the living room then, sitting in silence and replaying their fight over and over again in her mind. Torture, really, but penance she supposes for her sins committed that evening. Robin, wherever he was, most likely was doing the same thing. She started to doze then, and she didn't want to fall asleep before he came back, before they had a chance to talk, so she had taken a shower to wake herself up. She had stayed in there for what felt like hours but had really only been forty minutes when she checked the clock afterward.
And so now here she was. Fed, showered, and in her pajamas sitting on the couch waiting for her soulmate to come back to her in the middle of the night. She hopes he's coming back tonight because if he waits until tomorrow, the boys- or Henry at least- are going to know something is up and that is the last thing she wants.
She fiddles with her phone, presses the power button to light up the screen in a futile hope that maybe she just missed his call when she was staring at the screen. Maybe she should call Will again. Or the pirate. He and Robin have become good friends as of late, but if he went to Hook then Emma more than likely would have known something was amiss and she would have called Regina to find out what. Same thing for David. Snow would have called whenever she had a free minute from the boys to snoop and prod and try to fix things.
Maybe she should call Snow anyway. She needs a good vent and Snow would be more than happy to listen to all the messy details of her love life. But then she remembers it's going on two in the morning and the Charming household is probably all tucked in for the night.
She closes her eyes for a long moment before unlocking her phone and typing Robin's number into the dialpad. Her thumb is hovering over the call button when there's a knock on the door. She jumps in surprise and nearly drops her phone in the process. That… can't be Robin. He has a key, for goodness sake, but maybe he had forgotten to grab his keys on his way out? Hopefully that's the case, otherwise there's a stranger knocking on her door at almost two in the morning.
She stands, pulling her robe tightly around herself and hurries to the door. She should be more nervous, she thinks, because if Robin is on the other side of the door then they're going to have to talk about what happened and that's going to be awful. But if it's not Robin, then that means he's still somewhere that is not here, that is not safe with her and that might be even more awful than having to talk out their problems.
She stands on her tiptoes, and peeks through the eyehole. "What the hell?" she breathes as she yanks open the door to find David standing on her front porch, looking thoroughly soaked by the rain. "David? What are you doing here?" she asks, crossing her arms. He doesn't look good, she realizes and thinks maybe he and Snow had a fight just like Robin and she did.
"Regina, I… something's happened," he explains, voice cautious.
"What do you mean?" she asks, trying to keep her simmering panic from entering her voice. Robin isn't back yet.
"I got a call from Robin earlier. He had been walking down Old Creek Road when one of the nuns swerved and t-boned a tree," David clarifies. "Robin called me to let me know and then he tried to help Sister Astrid get out of the wreck."
With every word, dread creeps higher and higher up Regina's spine.
"But it was dark and raining and that road has a lot of sharp curves and… there was another car that came around the bend and I guess the driver didn't see-"
"David," Regina interrupts, voice shaking with her nerves. She knows what's coming, she can feel it, but there's a sliver of her that is desperately holding onto the possibility that she's wrong. "What happened? Tell me."
He exhales, shoulders deflating. "The second car… it struck Robin. Crushed him up against the first wreck. He's at the hospital right now."
Regina swallows, amazed that her mouth hasn't gone bone dry yet. She can feel her legs going numb, should probably hold onto something so she doesn't collapse right here, but she can't focus on that. She can barely focus on the words that just came out of David's mouth because of the ringing in her ears. Her worst fears can't be materializing. They can't be.
"How… how bad?" she manages to ask, hardly recognizing her own voice. It's never shaken like that before.
David takes a deep breath. "Life support."
"Oh," is all she can say.
She definitely should have held onto something because she does collapse then, her legs buckling from numbness and David catches her, arms around her torso. He slowly stands straight again, pulling her up with him. "I'm so sorry," he murmurs, slowly stepping back until just his hands are left supporting her.
She nods, feeling a dizziness spinning around her head. A thought strikes her then: Robin was walking down that road because of her, because she said those terrible things. He's dying because of her. Oh jeez, she's going to collapse again.
"They said you should probably get to the hospital quickly," David adds. "While he's still… while there's still time."
Oh god. Okay. Get to the hospital. She can do that, she can go there at least, she just needs… she's in her pajamas, she needs clothes or shoes at least, and she needs her keys and her bag and good lord, Roland and Henry, she needs to get them, tell them what's happened, be strong for them, but she needs to get to the hospital first, she needs shoes, and keys, and-
"Regina," David says softly, squeezing her biceps lightly, interrupting her spiraling thoughts. She looks at him then, snapping her back to the present moment. "I'll drive you. Get some shoes and whatever else you need. I'll be in the car, okay?"
"Yeah… okay," she breathes, nodding as she turns. Climbing the stairs is easier than she thought it would be, but she needs to hold onto the banister tighter than usual. She hurries into their room, shucking her pajama bottoms for jeans in the laundry basket on the floor full of clothes still needing to be folded. There are some of her shirts in there too, but she doesn't want any of them. She crosses to Robin's dresser and opens the bottom drawer. There. That's what she wants- one of his sweatshirts, a navy blue one that's soft and worn and smells so wonderfully like him when she tugs it on. If he leaves her tonight, she'll wear every shirt he owns until his scent fades from all of them.
But he won't leave her tonight, he's not going to leave her tonight she tells herself as she shuts the bedroom door and hurries down the stairs. She grabs her keys, her wallet, slips shoes on and turns off the lights. It's still raining when she steps outside, closing and locking the front door behind her. Of course it would be raining the night her life falls apart, she thinks as she gets into David's awaiting squad car.
He's sitting quietly, the hum of the engine and the beating of the rain on the windshield the only sounds inside in the vehicle. He looks over at her as she gets in and if he recognizes Robin's sweatshirt, he doesn't comment. "Ready?" he asks, hand moving to the gearshift.
She exhales and shakes her head. "No. But we better get there anyway," she answers honestly and he accepts that response with a nod. As he pulls out of the driveway, Regina looks at the front door and wonders if Robin will ever walk through it again.
They drive in silence for awhile, the skid of the windshield wipers interrupting the quiet every now and then. Normally, Regina would enjoy any silence she could find in the company of a Charming, but the quiet tonight is unsettling.
"Did Sister Astrid make it?" she asks, as if the survival of someone she barely knows could make any of this better. But it would, she knows, because it would matter to Robin. If he died but someone else got to live, he'd think his sacrifice worthwhile. Why doesn't she have his same sense of heroism?
"She did," David confirms with a nod. "Robin pulled her from her own wreck just before the other car came around the bend."
"And she didn't see the other car coming? To tell him to get out of the way?" Regina inquires, unable to keep the bite from her tone.
"You know that road, Regina," David replies. "Those curves are almost hairpins. And it was dark and it was raining. I'm sure if Sister Astrid had seen the car, she would've done something."
She sighs, suppressing the brief flare of anger that welled up and rests her head against the window. "He wasn't supposed to be there," she admits quietly, causing David to glance over at her.
He clears his throat. "I… I kinda figured that out. We recovered his phone at the scene and from your messages, I gathered something happened between the two of you."
… tell the difference… without his heart in his chest… Zelena…
"You could say that," she murmurs, wrapping her arms around herself. He remains silent and she takes a minute to decide whether or not she wants to elaborate. "I… started it, I guess. I was being a bitch and he was getting frustrated and things just kind of… escalated."
"He leave on his own or did you tell him to?"
She rubs her eyes, feeling the ghost of exhaustion pulling at her. "He left. Not that I blame him. I would have left, too."
David hums his understanding, but falls silent after that. She lets the quiet linger for a few minutes before giving in to something that's been nagging her for awhile. "Who… who was driving the car? The one that hit him."
She hears David suck in a breath as he turns into the hospital parking lot. "We don't know."
"You don't know? What do you mean you don't know?" she snaps. What kind of lousy sheriff department are the taxpayers supporting if they can't even figure out who-
"It was a hit and run," David interrupts her angry internal tirade.
Well then. That just makes everything peachy, doesn't it? She sucks in a shaky breath and closes her eyes for a second. "If he… if Robin doesn't make it," she begins, summoning every ounce of strength she can muster, "Promise me you will not stop until you find whoever did this to him."
"I will find the asshole, regardless of whether or not Robin pulls through," David swears, reaching over and taking her hand. At the contact, she looks over at him. "I know this is the last thing you want to hear, but I think having some hope would do wonders for you right now."
She licks her lips and nods, unable to hold his gaze for too long. He's too earnest, too empathetic for her fragile state. She offers a small smile and reaches for the car door handle. "I guess it's time to face the music, hmm?" she sighs, stepping out into the pouring rain.
David follows her through parking lot and into the waiting room, tossing the receptionist a nod as they pass before leading her down several hallways. He slows when they near a room with a long glass window and Regina can't hide her surprise at seeing Emma leaning against it. The blonde turns at the sound of their footsteps and pushes off from the wall.
"Any luck?" David asks his daughter as they come to a stop still a good distance from both the door and the window.
Emma shakes her head. "Astrid can barely remember what day it is let alone what color the car was," she sighs. "Seems the whole thing's gotten her pretty shaken." She looks at Regina. "I'm sure this isn't how you thought your night would go."
"You can say that again," Regina agrees, not trusting herself to chance a peek through the window behind Emma. "Shouldn't one of you be out… doing whatever you're supposed to do to solve a case like this?"
"I had been, but the hospital said they needed someone here authorized to make… certain decisions and I wasn't sure if you'd get here… in time," Emma struggles to explain and Regina feels annoyance flair up somewhere inside her. She knows what Emma means, that if the time came to stop trying to keep Robin alive, someone would have to be here to authorize that. Regina supposes that's her job now, but for goodness sakes she's not a child. She realizes the reality of the situation, they don't need to coddle her. Robin wouldn't coddle her, she thinks. He'd be gentle, he'd use his soothing voice to calm her, but he would never shield her from what was really going on. Somewhere in the back of her mind she wonders if she'll ever hear his voice again.
"Well, I'm here now so you can get back to doing your job," Regina informs Emma curtly, making a move to sidestep the blonde.
David grabs her bicep. "Regina, just… before you go in there, just know that he looks different."
She exhales and runs her tongue along the inside her of bottom lip. "I kind of figured he would," she says shortly, avoiding eye contact from both father and daughter. "Most people don't get crushed by a speeding car and come out untouched."
Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the two sheriffs exchange a glance. "I just wanted to warn you," David sighs, his voice still possessing too much sympathy.
"Well, I've been warned. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to see my boyfriend while he's still alive," she snaps, stepping past both Charmings and taking hold of the door handle. She's about to go in, to face her new reality, but she pauses and turns back toward Emma. "Henry and Roland, are they still with Snow?"
Emma nods. "Should still be sound asleep, too."
Regina licks her lips. "I think… I think they should be here. Just in case."
Emma's eyebrows quirk up. "That's going to be rough. Are you sure?"
No, she's not if she's being honest. She doesn't even know what awaits her on the other side of the door yet and if it's anything like the nightmares she's been picturing for the past twenty minutes, she's not sure she'll be able to handle it. And if Henry and Roland come, she'll need to be strong for them, but who is going to be strong for her? The man who usually occupies that position is currently fighting for his life. But no, the boys should be here. She needs their presence, she realizes. They need to all be together for this.
"Yes, I'm sure," she replies. "If he goes, they should be with him."
Emma nods slowly and looks at her father. "I'll call Mom and have her get them ready to go," she says, pulling her phone from her pocket.
"No, Emma, I think you should be the one to tell them," Regina counters, receiving a confused look in response. "Henry's going to need someone and I don't know if I'll be able to be strong for him." She takes a slow breath. "You're going to have to be strong for both of us."
"And Roland?" David adds, hands on his hips.
"He's barely five. He's not going to realize the gravity of the situation," Regina explains. "To him, his father's just going to be taking a long nap. Henry, though, he'll know. He'll know what's really going on."
"How much should I tell them?" Emma asks.
"As much as you think you need to," Regina sighs, realizing she still hasn't seen Robin yet. She glances back at the door. "Look, I trust your judgement. Just get them here, okay?"
Emma nods slowly and half-smiles. "I'll do my best."
Regina nods once in reply and turns back toward the door, opening it without preamble. Rip the band-aid off, she thinks, stepping inside and letting the door fall closed behind her with a soft click. Alone at last. Or, at least, away from any sympathy and pity. She closes her eyes, takes a steadying breath, and then opens them, looking at her soulmate for the first time in hours.
She can barely see his face from the bandages wrapped around his forehead and the tubes criss-crossing his nose and mouth, but she knows it's him. Would've known even if David hadn't brought her to the room and told her what had happened. On the parts of his face she can see, there are cuts and bruises. His eyes are closed, but they look swollen and bruised. A brace surrounds his neck and she can see more bandages wrapped around his bicep peeking out from underneath his hospital gown. Several of his fingers are either taped together or splinted in a metal casing. Both his wrists are wrapped in something that doesn't look quite like gauze but seems thinner than a cast. He's covered from stomach to toes with a blanket, hiding countless more injuries Regina's sure. An IV drips into his left forearm. Machines stand on either side of the bed, making beeping and whirring noises, the heart monitor proving he's still alive and the ventilator reminding that might not be true for much longer.
She's not sure how she's able to walk over to the bed, but somehow her legs carry her and she's by his side. A shaking hand reaches out and gently touches his cheek, fingers running over his stubble but getting stopped by the breathing tubes keeping him alive. She exhales, letting out every ounce of air left in her lungs and not stopping the tears she's been fighting all night from spilling down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, leaning down to touch her forehead to his. "I'm so sorry." She reaches for his hand and brings it to her cheek. "Don't leave me," she breathes, voice barely audible, her cries nearing the verge of sobs.
This is her fault. He's dying because of her. And how selfish of her to make this about herself when he is dying. Because of her. She deserves this, but he does not.
She's sure there's probably a chair somewhere in the room, but she doesn't bother to look. She gently crawls onto the bed, placing an arm lightly across his chest and resting her head on top of his shoulder. Normally he'd move to wrap his arm around her, but she keeps it between them and reaches down to join their fingers instead. She closes her eyes and listens to the whooshing air being forced into his lungs and the beeping of the monitor assuring his heart still beats.
A nurse will probably come in soon and tell her to move, but for now she'll remain curled against him, breathing in the scent of him still decipherable beneath the smell of the hospital, wrapped in the presence of her soulmate for what could be the last time.