AN: This is my first time playing for OQ week and my first AU. Yay! The story is 99% complete I'm just polishing up so updates will be fairly rapid. All mistakes are my own, sadly the characters are not. As always, thank you for reading. Favorite, follow along, and if you're feeling really generous leave a review. :) Best!
Don't do it kid. Regina eyed the wide-eyed child from her perch above the toy peddler's cart. He was all dimples and disheveled curls and about to ruin the grab she had been waiting on for hours. She hated this excuse for a man who drew children in with promises and presents then dashed their hopes when their parents couldn't pay is outrageous costs. It would be an honor to rob him blind today. Everything was going to plan, all she had to do was drop and…
"You little thief!" the excuse bellowed, raising his blade toward the dimpled kid who stood frozen, a stuffed monkey clutched to his small chest. Regina dropped, landing inches from the boy and swooping him out of harm's way. He cried as she ripped the toy from his hands, shoving it back toward the peddler when she felt the sharp pain in her back. Seconds later the peddler fell to the ground. The arrow embedded into his chest most likely had something to do with that. Regina tried to tighten her grip on the squirming boy, but her arm lost all strength and he fell to the ground, scrambling toward the mystery archer.
"We need to leave," the archer said as he broke the shaft of the arrow he landed in her shoulder. The boy clung tightly to his neck. Regina met his eyes for a split second before instinct kicked in. She pulled away from him, grabbed the money from the fallen man and disappeared into the crowd. She was halfway home before her vision started to blur. It wasn't until she raised her hands to scrub at her eyes that she realized she was still holding that damned monkey.
Robin tracked her easily enough. She made it back through the forest on nothing but adrenaline but her knees buckled the moment she reached the entry way of her humble carved out home. Except she didn't hit the ground, rather a strong arm caught her around the middle and drug her the rest of the way in. She stomped at the boot of this new threat, attempted to twist out of his grip, but she was weak, her movements clumsy, and he avoided her attacks easily.
"That is quite unnecessary, Mi'lady. I'm not going to hurt you."
"You!" She whipped around, instantly regretting the movement as the pain shot down her arm. He reached out to steady her and walked her back to the single chair in the room. He kept his arm around her upright against his chest as he pulled the chair between them so she could straddle it. "You shot me," she spat, sinking into the seat.
"I know." His honesty surprised her, his voice sincere. "I wasn't expecting you to move so quickly. I apologize." He moved behind her, sitting at the edge of her small cot and ripped the torn fabric away from her bleeding shoulder. The head of the arrow was deeply embedded into her shoulder blade. Robin was impressed that she'd stayed upright for so long.
"Is the boy okay?" She tried to turn her head back to see what he was doing but he quickly turned her back around.
"Hold still," he left his hand on the back of her head until she sighed in resignation. "And, yes, he's fine. Thank you. You didn't have to …"
"He's an innocent kid. I wasn't gonna let him get his hand cut off for wanting a stuffed monkey. I'm a thief, not a monster." She squirmed under his arm again. "Who is he to you anyway?"
"My son, Roland." He prods at her wound and she pulls away letting loose a string of curses that would make a sailor blush before swaying in the chair. His hand takes her waist to keep her upright. It's when her head drops to the back of the chair that she sees that little mop-headed boy crouched in the corner.
"Son?" she breathes out through gritted teeth. He eases is hands back up to her shoulder and she tenses. He doesn't touch her wound again just yet, lets her catch her breath. Regina watches the boy's eyes dart from her to his father, to the toy she'd dropped by the door. "Go ahead, Little Thief," Regina smiled. Robin nods to his son and the boy tentatively reached for the toy.
Robin's hand had made its way from her shoulder to her bicep and he squeezed it gently, just enough to get her attention. "Thank you," he said when she turned to meet his eyes. Regina only nodded and looked back to the boy who was presently having an animated conversation with his new stuffed friend. "Where's your whiskey?" he asked because he was there to tend to the wound he caused and he won't let Regina avoid it any longer.
"I don't drink." Robin eyes her with that damned self-assured grin until she finally relented and rolls her eyes. "Under the mattress."
He reaches behind him and runs his hand under the straw she calls a bed (certain his cot on the forest floor provides a more comfortable rest) until his hand bumps the neck of the bottle. He uncorks it and passes it around to her. "It's going to hurt," he says when she doesn't take it right away and he swears at this point she's just being difficult. If he weren't here she would have downed half the bottle by now and blindly pulled the arrow out herself.
She holds out another moment just to spite him before pulling the bottle from his hand and taking two very large pulls. This is going to hurt. "Be quick," she tells him, placing the bottle on the floor beside her and gripping the back of the chair until her knuckles are white.
He is. Without warning or preamble he pulls the arrow free, douses her back in the remaining whiskey, and holds a rag tight to the bleeding wound before she can think to scream. "Breathe," he says right next to her ear and it's only then that she realizes she isn't. She inhales sharply several times trying to take in as much air as her shaking body will let her. His other hand, the one that's not preventing her from bleeding to death is squeezing the back of her neck. "In and out," he says, "Slow and steady." His breath is hot on her skin. She focuses on the smoothness of his voice, on his fingers massaging her skin, feels her mind drifting to places it shouldn't but it's not keeping the darkness at the edge of her vision at bay. Damnit, she's going to pass out, doesn't want to pass out, can't pass out with him here.
She opens her eyes to a brown mess of curls and a dull ache in her shoulder. She's in her bed. The thief's son, Roland she remembers, is curled against her holding his monkey tightly even in sleep. His father is sprawled on the floor, but he's not asleep. Regina has feigned slumber enough to know the difference. "Hey," she whispers as not to wake the child snoring softly next to her. Robin shifts silently and sits next to the bed. Their faces inches apart. She's embarrassed. Obviously had passed out at some point, but he had stayed, tended to her wound and put her to bed. "Did you take anything?" she asks because she honestly doesn't know what to say and thank you has never come easily.
"I don't steal from the poor."
"Fair point," she laughs softly, wincing at the pain the slight movement caused.
"May I?" He leans over her and she shifts as much as she can with his child next to her so that he has better access to her arm. He pulls gently at the bandages, inspects the stiches he placed the night before. "I believe you'll live."
"Thank you." She says in a tone that she hopes conveys that she truly means it. There's no need though; he sees it in the eyes he's currently unable to look away from.
"As I said," he strokes his son's head, "I owe you a debt." They both watched the boy sleep for a time, lost in the innocence of the child neither could remember being. "I don't put him in danger. I want you to know that. He's never accompanied me on a heist. I took my eyes off of him for a second."
Regina could hear the pain in his voice. It shook with the terror of what could have happened if she had been a second slower. She covered his shaking hand with her own, drawing him back from the path of his thoughts. "What were you doing there if it wasn't a heist? I don't see the notorious Robin Hood out for a Sunday stroll through the bazaar."
"Looking for you, actually." Robin got off the floor and sat in the chair across from her. His mission was back on track and he stared at her with cocky dimples and mischievous eyes. "Something told be you would be reckless enough to try to pull a job in that crowd."
"Reckless?" she said too loudly and the boy stirred beside her, rubbing his eyes.
"Papa?" Roland looked around, disoriented in his unfamiliar surroundings.
"Right here, my boy." Robin pulled his son from the bed into his lap.
She watched them silently for a while, father and son, and wondered what it would feel like to be that protected by someone. "Why were you looking for me?"
"I was there to propose a mutually beneficial business arrangement."
"I work alone," Regina pushed herself up into a better position. She was too vulnerable lying near him. "And for good reason. People complicate things and I don't appreciate getting shot."
"And if I could guarantee your safety?"
"Like you did yesterday?" she scoffed.
"That was a choice, however regrettable, between you and my son. I'm sorry you were injured, but-"
"It wasn't a choice," she finished for him, unable to stop herself from smiling as Roland walked his monkey over every service in her tiny home. "So if I were interested in this job, not that I am, who's the target?"
"Queen Snow."
"You have a death wish," she said flatly as she got off the cot and extended her good arm to hoist him from the chair. "Get out. And keep a better eye on your son."
Robin nodded. He had assumed her response, known there was a history between her and the queen; a hatred that went far above her petty thievery. "Should you change your mind…"
"I won't."
"You do like interrupting people don't you?" Robin smirked as Regina crossed her arms over her chest the best she could without pulling the stitches. "If you change your mind, or you decide that you would like some assistance in removing those," he points to the shoulder she's trying desperately not to move, "you know where to find me."
"On the rack or in the ground if you try to steal from the queen." Her tone was sincere, unlaced with its usual sarcasm and wit. "She'll rip out your heart. Don't leave him without a father as well." Regina didn't know what possessed her, but she stepped toward him, inches away and placed her palm over his heart. "You're a good man, Robin of Locksely, and she'll destroy you and everything you care about." She looked at his son who had curled himself back into her bed.
He placed his hand over hers, holding it against his chest. Her fingers spread to allow him a better grip; it felt right. "Maybe not if you help me."
"Especially if I help you!" She shoved him hard enough to cause him to stumble back. "She hates me, blames me for ruining her entire life. She'd hunt you both down if she even knew you were here. So thank you for helping me, but please—please take your son and get the hell away from me." She turned her back to him and it was so much harder than it should have been. Being close to him, looking in those eyes it just felt right. Regina shook herself of the feelings. It was completely irrational. They had just met; he was her competitor; she had just been on her own for too long. That was it: a simple explanation for why her heart was beating faster, for why when she turned back to find him gone she had never felt more alone.