Inspired by an OQ/EC mash-up prompt I received on tumblr. Set during the missing year. I do hope you enjoy it!
He hears her through the stone wall, retching into the chamber pot until she can heave no longer. It's the third time this has happened during the two weeks they've been together, and he knows he cannot ignore the obvious any longer. The first morning she'd been ill, he'd gone to her, but she'd sent him away, assuring him that the venison served at dinner the previous evening had disagreed with her stomach. He'd done as she'd bidden, returning to her bed with measured steps after pouring her some water and making certain she was alright. She'd vomited once more before making her way back into the bedroom, and he'd held her close to his heart after she'd climbed back into bed, stroking her hair as she wrapped her arms around his torso.
He'd nearly slept through the second occurrence—just two days ago, he remembers, and he'd said nothing after she'd crawled back under the covers beside him, allowing him to pull her chilled body into his warmth.
"I'd forgotten how rich the food was in this realm," she'd uttered as he stroked her bare back, concerned with the clammy texture of her skin. He'd kissed her forehead and whispered that she should rest, reminding her of how tired she'd felt the previous day, of how little she'd been able to eat over the course of the week. Heavy eyes had gazed back at him—questioning, searching, then she'd kissed him with abandon, the taste of salt on her lips unmistakable, remnants of tears she was struggling to keep hidden leaving a residue on his tongue.
It was then the first doubts had formed. Now they are practically eating him alive.
He moves to the edge of the bed and reaches for his trousers, drawing them about his waist as he makes his way into the small adjoining room where she has been heaving for the past five minutes. He has no idea what to say, how to address the looming issue between them, one that will only grow larger as the weeks continue to pass, but he knows it must be done. He pauses to inhale, to clear his mind, to stop his hands from shaking and to quell the burning in his chest.
He's not certain if he's more angry or hurt.
That is until he sees her, naked on the floor, knees drawn into her chest, head buried in her arms, sobs shaking her body. He's on the floor beside her within seconds—pulling her into his chest, black hair matted against her face and shoulders, her body devoid of warmth.
"I'm sorry, Robin."
The words chafe his skin as tears soak his shoulder, but he barely notices as he unconsciously rocks her in his arms, trying to make sense of circumstances his mind refuses to accept.
"Shhh," he breathes, not ready for what he knows is about to happen. Her breath comes in pants against his neck, her fingers so cold they sting his skin.
"You know, don't you?"
He pauses then, leaning back just far enough to look into her eyes.
"Yes," he admits, his own voice now on the verge of breaking. "I recognize the signs."
Her gaze drops as she nods, wiping her nose before it drips onto his arm.
"It.,.it happened before," she utters, refusing to look at him. "Before we—"
She coughs, making him fear she may vomit again. He strokes her hair without thinking, waiting until her body relaxes a measure into his own.
"Before we were together."
He hears himself finishing her thought as she nods, her hair rubbing his chest in confirmation. It's then he realizes just how cold she is, and he releases his hold on her long enough to stand. Her despondent gaze cuts through muscle and bone, and he rushes in his quest to warm her, returning from the bedroom with a heavy fur to wrap around her frame. She looks frighteningly fragile sitting on the floor as she is, and he engulfs her in his warmth, craving color in her cheeks and life in her eyes.
"You don't have to stay, you know."
Tension floods the air between them, and he looks down at the stone floor, fighting tears of his own.
"And yet I'm here."
She exhales and tries to smile, a pitiful, small quiver of her lips he's never before witnessed. She's completely broken, and it slices into him even though he knows he has every right to walk away and never look back. But he won't. Somehow, he can't.
"Do you love him?"
Her expression answers him before she even opens her mouth.
"Not like that," she answers, tugging the fur tighter around her body. "What happened…it was a mistake."
He releases a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, feeling cold stone press through the material of his pants.
"Does he know?"
"God, no," she utters, licking her lips. "And he can't. Ever."
His head is swimming in time with his stomach, her words swirling around him until he feels dizzy.
"Forgive me, Regina, but a man has a right to know that he's going to be a father."
"He's already a father," she admits, her eyes meeting his directly. "And he's married. Happily married." She's stopped crying though her nose still runs, and she sniffs as his arm snakes around her, his mind scurrying in ten different directions at once. "I told you, it only happened once, and we both regretted it immediately."
He hears her swallow, stroking her thumb in a repetitive motion as she tries to formulate the right words.
"If he knew, it would hurt so many people. It would destroy more than his marriage."
A sickening realization grips him.
"David."
The name drops from his lips before he can stop it, and her face whips around as if she's been smacked.
"How did you know?"
"I guessed."
He fights back the urge to be sick.
"I found him one day," she states, her words nearly lost to the dull roar in his head. "In the forest. He was missing Emma, we were both missing Henry, both convinced we'd never see our children again." He pulls her closer as her body begins to shake. "We were just talking, trying to keep it together when…"
Sobs grip her again, and he'll be damned if he's going to let her cry alone this time. He brings her into his body, allowing tears to fall into her hair, releasing his own hurt, absorbing hers. He tries to beat down images conjured up by her words, images of two broken people reaching out to each other in the most basic of ways, seeking physical comfort from overwhelming emotional trauma.
She clears her throat once they've cried it out, and he stands to fetch her a glass of water, handing it to her with a renewed sense of gentleness.
"He loves Snow, Robin. They're having a baby, for God's sake."
"So are you."
She accepts the mug from his hands with trembling fingers, and he reaches out to steady them, watching as her lips press together until they're nearly white.
"I shouldn't be," she finally mutters, looking flustered as he returns to his spot beside her. "I took a potion- a long time ago. One that made it impossible for me to conceive a child."
He leans back in surprise, the way she is with Roland and the obvious love she has for her son warring with the confession he's just heard.
"My mother…I wouldn't let her do to another child what she'd done to me."
He touches her cheek, the contact making him ache all over. He can't begin to fathom the pain she has suffered over the course of her life, so much of it inflicted by the very people who should have shielded her. It's then he knows he won't let her bear this alone.
"What are you going to do?"
She chuckles, her tone the texture of withered leaves.
"I have no idea."
The look of utter defeat in her eyes frightens him. He's never seen her like this.
"You can't leave," he states, voicing the fear beginning to gnaw at his insides.
"I can't stay. What happens when I start to show in a few weeks?"
"What happens when that witch finds out you're alone out there?"
Her entire body sags, what fight she had left seeping into the cold stones beneath them.
"I can't…"
Her face contorts, and he winces at what he knows she's thinking.
"No," he interjects, cupping her face with his palms. "This is your baby, too, Regina. You're allowed to love him and to give him life."
Her tear is hot against his thumb, and he wants to take her far away from here—from this castle, from this kingdom, from two people she holds close whose fate now grows in her womb.
"Let me be the father."
He feels each word pass over his tongue, burning as they slide out of his lips. She sits up straighter then, her eyes widening until they will open no further.
"People already suspect we're together if they don't know outright," he continues, his mouth moving independent of thought. "I've been sleeping in your chambers openly for two weeks now, so it follows that everyone will assume that this baby is mine."
His heart is racing at breakneck speed, the room unsteady beneath them. Her lips move without speech, her blinking rapid, her breath coming in puffs.
"Everyone but David."
"Will he really want to know?"
She pauses before slowly shaking her head.
"Why? Why would you do this, Robin?"
Because I love you. Because for some reason I feel more alive when I'm with you than I can ever remember feeling. Because you're a part of me now, a vital part, even though we've only been a part of each other's lives for a matter of months.
Because I'd rather walk into the middle of this mess beside you than live a less complicated existence alone.
"Because I care about you, Regina," he manages, tears once again pooling in his eyes. "You don't have to do this alone."
Her spine relaxes somewhat as she takes another sip of water, her eyes closing as she swallows.
"Could you really raise another man's child as your own?"
He ponders the words, letting them scour his soul as he considers her question.
"If you allow me to raise this child with you, believe me, Regina, he will be mine in every sense of the word."
He pauses, watching something play out across her face that he can't quite translate.
"Just as Roland is mine," he continues, his resolve strengthening as he speaks. "Just as Henry is yours. With my claim will also come my love, my name and my promise to do the best that I possibly can by both this baby and his mother."
He's trembling now, and she reaches out to stroke his cheek.
"But why would you choose this?" she questions, leaning in so close he can smell the rosewater in her hair. "Why, when you could have a life with practically any woman of your choice? Why take on the evil queen and her unplanned child by Prince Charming?"
"Because I choose you, Regina. And everything that comes with choosing you."
She leans back against the wall then, allowing her head to rest on hard stone, her chest rising and falling in an arrhythmic tattoo. He moves a breath closer, reaching out to touch her hair, absorbing its texture into himself as he stares back at her. No one has ever chosen her, he realizes. She's been a pawn, a means to an end, a token passed from one person to the other until she'd finally fired back at the world with everything she'd had.
"You don't have to give me an answer now. Take some time, think it over."
Her eyes mist over as her bottom lip begins to quiver.
"You'd really do this?"
He reaches into the gap of the thick fur, his hand finding her stomach, his palm cupping new life.
"We'll do this together."
Her head drops to his shoulder as she nods into his skin.
He gathers her up to his chest, standing cautiously, bearing precious cargo in his arms as he makes his way back to her bed. He lays her down with as much care as he can muster, stroking her forehead before sliding in beside her, the scent of their lovemaking covering him far better than any quilt. Her head rests on his chest now, her breathing steady and warm as her limbs finally lose their chill.
"Sleep, Regina," he bids her, his fingers stroking her hair until she's boneless against him. Her tears give way to steady breaths, her lips finally parting in sleep. He looks down at her then, at this woman in his arms, and he wonders if they have been destined for this from the start—the circumstances of their meeting, the timing of their first kiss, the fact that he is in her life at this critical juncture when she needs him in a manner neither of them could have predicted.
He then realizes he doesn't care one way or the other about the workings of fate. He just loves her.
"I've got you, Regina," he breathes into her hair before allowing his own eyes to drift shut and sleep to wash over him in soft waves. "I've got you both."
.