She shuts the door, welcoming the silence that floats through her messy office with a sigh. It's never this messy, books teetering dangerously close to the edge of her desk, criminal files scattered across the floor. But it's quiet, that's all she wants. It's the first time all day she hasn't had Mary Margaret playing a seemingly one sided game of 20 question, or Ella breathing down her neck with an avid interest in what she's doing. She's alone with the simple silence she's come to love only recently. No, recently was an overstatement. It hadn't even been a month. Two weeks ago she would have mingled willingly with the rambling crowd, put in an input or two in a conversation, maybe even started a one of her own with an over eager co worker. But now she sits alone in her office, squeaking chair rattling her ear drums until she feels like ripping the hair off her scalp and screaming, with only memories of Daniel to keep her company. Her Daniel, her partner in the agency, her friend, her fiance, dead. Buried six feet under the cold, hard ground with a bullet wound in his chest, and a bullet in him that they never found.
She can't blame anyone else though, she's tried. She'd tried so hard to pinpoint her anger, fury, grief on anyone but herself. But she's the only one to blame. She's the one who insisted they take up the job despite Gold's warning of the impending danger and the low chances of survival. She'd come back to the agency with a dead body and a broken heart. She was broken. Simple task became overwhelming, smiling was painful, breathing became more of a strangled sob as she sat alone in her office day after day, feeding off her own endless misery. She was surrounded by people, but she was alone.
So now she sits on the soft, carpeted floor of her dainty office, her legs stretched out in front of her until her toes just touch the bottom of her wooden desk. She doesn't bother to notice the broken pieces of wood that crumble around her boot clad feet at the contact. The desk is old, needs replacing badly. She had planned on doing just that before- no, she won't let herself wallow in self-pity anymore. She takes a shuddering breath that sounds more like a strangled gasp. Regina's head falls back against the painted door with a soft thud, another relieved breath slipping past her lips. She'll let herself have this, this one moment to just relax and hide away from the next dangerous mission, the next crazy killer, the next dead body, the next loaded gun pointed at her head. It's almost a routine at this point. Gold gives her the job, she finds the convict, steps out of her own boundaries to put herself in danger, what's the point in trying to be safe. She'd realized only recently that she would never truly be safe. After that she'll find herself beside some poor dead hostage, body cold and blood surrounding the bullet hole protruding their sick, their skin turning a sickening gray as the life seeps from their veins. Then, somehow she'll manage to fight her way out and finish what she started. It's the same thing every time, and she'd say she was almost bored of it if Mary Margaret, an agent with a caring heart but killer aim, hadn't decided at that very moment to fling open Regina's office door.
"Regina!" She tries to push herself to her feet but the corner of the tall door catches her arm and sends her tumbling back to the floor, landing in a breathless heap on her back.
"Reg- Oh! Did I do that?" The pixie haired girl reaches her small hand out, offering Regina assistance as she warily struggles to her feet. "I'm so sorry! I really didn't mean to, I had no idea you were there a-"
Regina holds up her hand, signaling for Mary Margaret to take a breath and end her pointless ramble. It works and Regina lets her eyes flicker shut and open once more before speaking.
"It's fine, really. I just needed to take a break." A look of relief falls across the younger girls face. "You were in quite the rush there, what did you need? Is something wrong?"
"Oh no, nothing like that. Gold just wanted me to tell you that he found someone." Regina doesn't miss the way Mary Margaret avoids her eyes, taking particular interest in a dim lamp residing in the corner. She raises her eyebrow quizzically at the overly cheery women standing before her.
"What do you mean Gold found someone?" She asks the question, though she already knows the answer. Her boss, Caspar Gold, had been searching for a new partner to aid her since the day after she lost Daniel. He offered his sympathy, even went as far as to attend the funeral. Then he had returned to his desk, fingers pecking away as he aimed to locate the next lethal crime stopper to pair her with. She knew it was only a matter of time before he found someone, though she still dreaded every second until this moment.
Mary Margaret's voice falls and Regina has to strain her ears to hear the girl. "Regina, he found you a new partner." She stumbles back a bit, searching hurriedly for the edge of her crumbling desk for support.
"No." She shakes her head and tries to swallow, a feeble attempt. "Tell him I said no. I don't wan- I don't need a new partner." Mary Margaret takes a step forward, her hand coming to rest reassuringly on Regina's shoulder.
"Regina, I'm sorry. I know this is hard for you, but maybe life throws crappy situations at us to help us grow. I'm not saying that losing Da-" Her friend quickly catches herself. "That losing him was a good thing, but maybe it means that you're supposed to keep moving, maybe it means that something else is in store for a you."
Regina blinks her eyes, pushing back tears struggling to the surface. "You know, to only be 24 years old, you're a lot wiser than you look." She manages a small laugh. "Or maybe you're just overly full of hope and happiness."
"You know to only be 26 years old, you're a lot angrier than you should be." Mary Margaret counters before her gaze travels back over to the lamp. More bad news. "But Gold said that if you wanted to keep your job, you had to do this."
"Then let's go meet my new partner."
She stares at him through the glass window, her face void of emotion except for a single tear track that still stains her cheek. This is not what she had expected. "This, this is my new partner?" She says it with a raised eyebrow, her attention now on Gold.
"Well, don't look so happy, Dearie." He replies, a smug look crossing his features in a way that, if he weren't her boss, she'd be more than happy to smack of his face.
"I'm not happy! I didn't want a new partner, and I come in here to find out that the one I'm being forced to work with is in the interrogation room, cuffed to a table!" She almost laughs at the absurdity of it all, but pulls her lips into a tight, angry frown instead, realization finally dawning on her. "Is he some kind of criminal!?"
"Well, if we're pulling technicalities, he is an ex-criminal." Her mouth falls open and she's sure if looks could kill, Gold would most certainly be dead. Not that he won't be after this little stunt.
"Are you serious right now?! You brought in a criminal to help me do my job?" She doesn't try to hide the anger or disbelief in her raised voice, but the older man seems completely unfazed.
"Like I said, he's an ex-criminal, meaning he is no longer against us." Against us? Who is this man? "Besides Ms. Mills, you don't have a choice. I run the show around here, and what I say goes. And right now I say you should go meet your new partner. No further argument is necessary." He turns from her, his footsteps leading him to the doorway, a heavy limp doing him no good as he attempts to increase his pace.
Her shoulders tense, she isn't going down without a fight. He was the one who had found her this criminal, he was the one who was forcing her to work with him, and he was not going walk away without answering her questions. "It might not be necessary, but its certainly going to happen. If I have to work with him, you will tell me everything you know about him." Her gaze doesn't falter as her boss turns to face her once more.
"Well, well, well. Seems like the little grieving girls got teeth." She flinches, her shoulders drawing tight and her back rigid. He knew exactly how to hurt people. After a long, drawn out pause Gold finally responds, a half smirk contorting his features. "He's from England. London, to be specific, but details, details. Let's see, He's a year older than you, twenty-seven. And he's waiting for you just inside that door there, as you know." He gestures towards the door next to her with a long black cane clutched tightly in his hand. Regina let's out an exasperated sigh as he turns again, slowly making his way to the door. No, something was missing.
"He's got a name, doesn't he?" Gold pauses, the tip of his cane coming to a halt along with his feet. His response is short, and before she knows it, he's disappeared out the door, leaving her alone with her thoughts and a mysterious man just a room away.
"Robin, Robin Locksley."
The heavy metal door gives a loud creak of protest as she drags it open, using her full body weight to force the old hinges into use once more. They desperately needed to be oiled; she couldn't remember the last time they were. Even so, they never used the interrogation room much. Almost every job ended with the convict they were chasing dead, a murderer murdered. She knew it was harsh, cruel even, but they did what Gold instructed. Gold ran the show. But he was gone, leaving her to speak with her new help.
She spots the man as soon as she enters through the doorway, finally managing to pull it open. She'd almost say he looks calm. He's leaning forward slightly in his seat, his strong hands clasped together in between his knees. From what she can see, he's wearing all black. His shoes, jacket, shirt, and even the jeans, which she'd be lying if she said he didn't look nice in, are all black. He'll fit in as far as his fashion choices, everyone in the agency wore black almost all the time. Gold would tell them it helped them blend into the shadows on jobs, but his acute sense of clothing won't get him far if anywhere at all.
It isn't until he looks up into her face that she notices his eyes. They're stunning, bright blue contrasting with the light brown color of his hair. She can't help but notice the little skip from her heart. Pull it together Mills.
"So I take it by the harsh demeanor and stiff personality that you're Regina?" She jumps a bit at the sound of his voice, his words cutting into the comfortable silence putting her on edge.
"It's Agent Mills." He smirks at her request for formality, but she continues as if she doesn't notice, though its hard not to. "And I've hardly spoken a word since I walked in this room. You know absolutely nothing about me, so what makes you think that you have the right to call me harsh and stiff?"
"Well you see Regina," He says her name with emphasis, trying his very best to make her blood boil. He's succeeding. "You've already told me everything I need to know." When her eyes widen with curiosity, and frustration, he waves his hand up and down and if measuring the weight of two different objects, continuing. "Well, you haven't verbally told me anything about yourself, but actions speak louder than words." He gestures towards the hand at her side clasped tightly around her keys. "You don't like surprises do you?" When she gives a small shake of her head, he smiles a bit. "I can tell that because you're holding onto those keys of yours with a vice grip. You don't know a thing about me, and that scares you. You don't want to be surprised, so you're ready to run, holding onto the one thing that will get you out of here like you're life depends on it." She loosens her hold on her keys, letting the cool metal relax in her sweating palm before looking back to the man in front of her.
"Lets see, you're a woman of authority, even when you aren't. Whether you hold the power in a situation or not, you always want, or have, at least some bit of control. You're standing taller than you actually are, keeping your back straight and your chin up. Always asserting your authority, aren't you?" She takes a confident step towards him, placing her hands on the table and glaring into his eyes.
"How do you know all this? How do you just read people like they're some kind of book?" She's fully aware of the demanding tone in her voice, but that just gives him the proof he needs.
"There's that authority." He pulls up his feet, propping them up on the table and causing her to take a few aggravated steps back. "You know I quite like it, it suits you, so long as you aren't yelling at me. And to answer your question, and take note because it's the only one I'll be answering, I majored in psychology in college. So yes, Regina, I can read you like a book"
Regina throws her hands into the air, turning on her heel and pacing angrily back and forth. "This is hopeless! You're hopeless!" She lets out a frustrated sigh before continuing. "You somehow know everything about me, but I don't know a thing about you!"
He interrupts her angry rambling. "That's how I intend to keep it."
"Why?!" She slams her hands onto the desk, sending it skidding backwards a few centimeters. "Why won't you tell me anything about yourself? We're supposed to be working together!" A frustrated laugh escapes from her mouth. "No! You know what, I don't want this, and I most certainly don't want you!" She's out of breath by the time she's done, her shoulders rising and falling heavily with every breath. She's furious, frustrated because he's right, she wants to be in control, but with him she doesn't have a clue what to do and she hates every second of it. He startles her once more when he speaks.
"You wouldn't be the first." His whole demeanor has changed, his voice muffled slightly and his eyes looking up at her with nothing but grief and pain. It's almost as if the confident, sarcastic man sitting before her moments before got up and left the room, leaving only a shell of sorrow. It has her heart aching, her fingers curling lightly into her palms. She's seen that look before, the look of someone who's lost everything. She sees it in the mirror daily, but something is different about the look plastered across Robin's features. He almost looks...lost. Then she remembers, he's a thief, lying is what he does best.
"What kind of game are you playing?" She's leaning towards him as she speaks, her voice layered thick with an icy coldness. But his look doesn't waver, she killed his ego with a few simple words.
"I'm not playing any type of game, Agent Mills." His fingers fiddle with the cold chain of the cuff, back stiff and shoulders pulled taut like a bowstring.
"Then why the sad faces and pitiful tones?" Anger flashes in his light eyes at her mocking tone, and she knows she shouldn't have said it the way she did, but she's gained control of the situation, she isn't the one whose nervous anymore.
"Because you wouldn't believe the amount of people who've said that to me and meant it. You wouldn't believe the amount of people who didn't want me and showed me just how much they wanted me gone." Her smirk falls away at his words, a frown replacing it and pulling down her features. He's not lying; this isn't a game to him anymore. Maybe it never was. But the pain on his face has her heart aching as if she's losing Daniel all over again, like her beloved fiancé is before her, bleeding in her arms. But he's not. Instead there's an overly cocky and confident 27-year-old ex-criminal breaking apart in front of her all because she said she didn't want him to help her. And she can't help but wonder.
"What happened to you?" His reply has her on edge as well as worried, not for her, but for him.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."
A/N Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it! Also don't forget to review, it makes me want to write more! Chapter 2 will have more on both Robin and Regina's past, so I hope you guys don't hate me too much for the angst that's coming! (But don't worry, it won't be angst forever) Anyways, thanks again!