AN: Prompt #3 of my 100 self given Prompts was Woods, this little drabble is the result. :)

Lemme know whatcha think :D

As usual, unbetaed, all mistakes are mine.

Don't own the Show or the Characters.

She doesn't know why she comes back here, comes again and again only to find the place deserted, empty. No camp nearby, no tents, no fire, nothing. Not even a trace. She knows it's pointless, knows it'll only hurt her in the end, knows she'll walk home crying but it doesn't matter. Regina walks back into the woods time and time again, speaking out the place where she had kissed him first, where she had given into what she had felt — known after seeing that damn tattoo, all along.

After Robin's departure the merry man had by bit left their camp, taking their tents down in favour of moving into actual housing, taking on actual jobs. Little John along with Will Scarlet had been the last to leave the only place they had known for years as their home. Less than six months after their leader had been gone all merry man had managed to fully include themselves into Storybrooke.

At first whenever Regina had found her way into the woods — which had been quite frequent, not that she would admit it to anyone if asked; she had quiet enjoyed to see the others still there. She had sat with them, had listened to their stories glad to at least have something of Robin still, even if it only were memories. Over time the company around the camp's fire had dwindled, bit by bit. Along with everyone the stories had disappeared too, leaving Regina with nothing but the company of the man that knew Robin better than she herself ever had the chance to.

Will and Little John had walked alongside her back to Storybrooke's small town-centre one night, each caring their few belongings in a bag and Regina knew then that she'd find nothing but silence the next time she returned to that damned place. She had tried to stay away, had tried to sleep instead of fining herself wandering through the night. But sleep didn't bring Regina much solace these days, leaving her dreaming of what she had, of what could have been, of what she had lost instead. So before long Regina found herself outside again, found herself walking the familiar path to the fire place she had find Robin that night after he had lost her heart to the Wicked Witch of the West, to her sister. Surprisingly she finds she doesn't mind the silence, finds she quite enjoys it.

Her visits into the woods are less frequent now than they had been at first, but then it had been close to a year since Robin had left and there was only so long Regina could put her daily life on hold. Henry, who surprisingly had moved back into the mansion with her had been the one to pull her back into some sort of routine. She couldn't sulk all day and stare holes into the walls of her bedroom with a teenager in her home. Let alone if said teenager apparently had developed the appetite of a bear. As hard as it had been for her to break out of her stupor, she was grateful that Henry had brought her back into reality.

She was aware that he knew of her midnightly adventures every once in a while but thankfully he choose not to address the fact that his mother snuck out at night to mourn the loss of her love. Unlike her, Henry still looked for clues to find the Author. Regina had learned her lesson, along with Rumpelstilskin's departure — unwanted how they eventually had found out, she had understood that she never would have the happy ending she truly desired, that she should focus on what she had instead. So Regina did just that, she focused on her son, on their relationship instead.

And it was enough, was all she needed. Henry after all had been her new beginning once, her fresh start, her happy ending. Still, every once in a while she caved, found herself missing Robin and the possibility of a family she always had dreamed of, the patch-work family they could have been, together with Henry and Roland, and perhaps, just perhaps a child of their own. On those days she found herself wandering, found herself surrounded by trees, sitting on a fallen log, craving nothing more than his company by her side.