She lays on her back, staring up at the ceiling as Robin's lips flutter against her skin, his fingers strumming up and down her bare thigh.
For months they've been together. She and Robin were an open secret that everyone allowed her to believe was a closed one. She'd tried to resist him–and for a short while, she succeeded–but slowly, her guard came down. It hadn't been Robin who'd broken through it, though. That honor went to his son. But the closer she grew to the little, curly-haired, dimple-faced boy who reminded her that sadness didn't have to be all-consuming, the more willing she'd been to entertain his father's company.
At first, she tolerated him–she had to if she wanted to spend time with his son–and then, she liked him. For a while, they'd had a tentative friendship that was wrapped up in sarcasm and tension, and then one night, she'd kissed him. It'd been a decision fueled by too much wine and the need to feel close to someone, but once it happened there was no stopping it. They'd slept together that night, and from them on, after tucking Roland into bed, he'd come to her room and lay with her. Sometimes it was sexual, other times, it was just comfort, and a lot of times, it was both.
They hadn't talked about it, though–not properly, anyway–and she doubted that they ever would.
That just wasn't the way they did things.
Really, though, it was her last wall and the only thing left protecting her heart. She knew that if she could find a way home–a way back to Henry–she'd take it without giving anything or anyone a second thought. He knew that she was trying–every day, she spent hours pouring over magic books, looking for a way out–and most of the time, he sat with her, ready and willing to do whatever he could to send her back to her son.
"You're awfully quiet tonight."
"Mm," she nods, turning her head on her pillow to look at him. "I'm tired."
His eyes narrow and they shift up to meet hers. "You're worried about something."
"I miss him."
"I know," he murmurs, pressing a warm kiss to her shoulder. "You'll find a way back."
"It's been a year, Robin. A year, and I haven't found anything."
"You will, though," he says, his voice so sincere and full of promise. "I've faith in you."
"If only your faith in me were enough."
"Who knows," he murmurs, looking up at her. "Maybe it is."
Her brow furrows in spite of herself, a soft grin tugs onto her lips. "How can you always be so optimistic?"
"Where you're concerned, I've learned to always be optimistic," he says, offering a hearty laugh. "It wasn't so long ago that the sight of me made you cringe."
"Cringe is–"
"Exactly what you did whenever I'd come near."
"Well, you were always getting in the way."
He nods. "So you said."
"I didn't… hate you," she murmurs, her brow creasing. "I just–"
"You were in a bad place," he supplies. "I know, and I understand."
"You always do."
"Well, that's because I love you."
His words hang heavily in the air, and her breath catches in her chest. He's grinning at her, and his eyes are soft, his fingers still strumming at her hip. For a moment, she wonders if he doesn't know what he said, maybe it just slipped out or he didn't mean it in that way.
But then, he pulls himself up, propping his head up with his hand, looking at her in a way that's soft and sincere, and in a way that's full of love.
"You don't have to say it back."
"I just–"
"It's alright," he murmurs, his smile growing coy. "I wanted you to know how I feel about you."
She swallows. She loves him. She knows that she does, but loving him complicates this and in her experience, love only leads to loss.
"It doesn't seem fair to say it back," she admits. "Especially if I find a way to leave."
His fingers skim over the top of her hand and his eyes narrow as he looks at her. "We haven't talked much about what happens after you find a way home," he says. "But maybe we should."
"It doesn't seem fair to either of us."
Again, his eyes narrow. "Regina, do you… think that I wouldn't follow?"
She blinks. She never considered that he'd want to. "Your life is here," she says, her voice soft and a little sad. "Everything you and Roland know is here."
"That's true," he nods. "Our life has been here."
"I can't ask you to give that up."
"Suppose I want to," he counters. "Suppose I'd do it gladly."
Her eyes widen, and her breath catches in her chest, almost aching as she sits up. "You're telling me you'd want to go back to Storybrooke with me?"
He nods. "If that's where your son is." A warm grin spread across his lips. "I'd follow you anywhere, m'lady." She can't stop her smile as he pushes himself toward her, rolling on top of her. "And I've all the faith in the world that one day, very soon, you and I are going to have everything we've ever wanted."
"Mm, will we?"
"We will."
"What if I fail? What if I don't find a way back."
"You will."
"But–"
"You will," he cuts, his smile so sweet that she can't help but believe him. So she nods, laughing as he leans and kisses her, drawing her knees up and giggling as his beard tickles her–and for at least one night, she allows herself to believe that her happily ever after is near.