She'd been on her own for several weeks, trying her best to keep herself fed and stay out of the larger creatures' way at the same time. Needless to say, it was tough.
The riding tunic and breeches she'd been wearing when she left hung, tattered ribbons, off her limbs, catching on the branches and shrubs as she picked her way through the forest. She didn't even know where she was going. Just away, away from anyone else to hurt, anyone else who was foolish enough to let her into their hearts. Anyone to let into hers.
After a particularly rough night holed up in the trunk of a hollow tree, Regina rose, stretching her back and shoulders. The early morning sunlight filtered down through the leaves, making her squint. She knew she was near water, she'd heard it the night before, just before she found the tree. Now she pushed aside a low hanging branch, straining to hear the sound of moving water again, but the breeze in the trees made it hard. But soon the ground beneath her turned from stony ground to slick moss, and a break in the trees rewarded her with a glimpse of sunlight on water.
For the first time in days, Regina smiled. It made her face hurt.
Pushing past the last of the tree limbs, she knelt on the stream bank and drank deeply. The cold water slid deliciously down her throat. She kept her eyes open, watching the opposite bank and over her shoulder to be sure she was still alone. Regina might not be a true woods-woman, but she wasn't entirely stupid.
After drinking her fill and washing her face as best she could, she looked about for something to eat. There were berry bushes around here somewhere, there had to be, it was the height of summer. She just had to find them. Therein lay the challenge.
She was just about to rise from her position at the bank when wood snapped behind her. Regina froze, eyes darting about for anything to use as a weapon. Twigs and pebbles. Useless. Unless—no, she'd promised herself she would never use magic again, not after what she'd done to him. She fought a sob back at the memory, pressing her lips together. His eyes….
Stop it, she ordered herself. You are a grown woman, not some heartsick child.
Ah, but you're only half right there, dear, another voice whispered. Because you see, you are—
Another twig cracked and a body settled down easily next to hers. She clenched her eyes shut at the sight of him, stomach roiling in disbelief. How could he have found her? No, that wasn't quite the right question. Why had he come looking for her, that was better. Finding her would have been simple, especially for him.
"W-what are you doing here?" Her voice was rusty, even after drinking so much. She couldn't bear to look at him; it was punishment enough to glimpse him through the tangles of her bangs.
"What do you think?" he replied easily, picking up a pebble and tossing it into the stream. The ripples of its splash were gone before she could really focus on them, carried away by the current. "I was looking for you. Clever using that tree; I almost passed it before I saw the tracks leading here. And," a swatch of dirty whiteness interrupted her interrupted view of him, "you left this on a tree limb about thirty paces back."
Regina sighed, already feeling the frustration rise within her. He should have stayed home, with the men, with—Her breath caught at the memory of his little boy, grinning up at her with his big dark eyes. "You shouldn't have come," she rasped. "You shouldn't have come looking for me."
"What? And let you get killed before you could finish your temper tantrum? Certainly not."
She could see his grin without seeing it. The way his beard hid the soft lines around his mouth and the way the corners of his eyes crinkled. The way they turned a brighter shade of blue, if that was even possible.
Regina shook herself. Temper tantrum? Is that what he thought this was? Her losing her patience and going off in a huff? Well, he had another thing coming. She rose, dusting off her pants and turned back to the tree line. "You shouldn't have come, Robin," she repeated, and moved to leave him there.
But of course the stupid thief couldn't leave well enough alone, and followed her. When he spoke again she was surprised to hear the sport had gone out of his voice, all traces of fun gone. "Regina, I'm serious. It isn't safe out here for you. There are too many beasts and traps for you not to know what you're doing. You have no way to defend yourself." He stepped closer, tried to put a hand on her arm, but she pulled away.
"And what makes you say that?" she retorted. "Have you forgotten already what I did to you at the Castle?"
"Of course not." There was no anger in his voice, or his eyes, only concern and a fierce determination to make her understand. "But I know you, Regina, as much as you might hate to admit it. I know you. If you wanted to use magic, you would be wearing the finest clothes money could buy, and eating whatever you wanted. Hell, you probably wouldn't even still be here."
She would rather him be angry at her. To rant and rave and scream in her face. That she could deal with, that she could fight against. Not this…whatever he was doing.
Wait, what was he doing? Robin sat again on the ground at her feet, pulling a small tripod from his pack and a shard of flint from his pocket. He busied himself setting up the tripod before scraping the flint against a stone, sending a spark into a little pile of twigs and grass. For a moment she simply stared at him, then huffed slightly and sat down as well, if a little ways away. She watched as he pulled a small pot from his pack and opened a water skin at his belt. He filled the pot and set it to heat before turning to look at her.
"What?" she demanded, glaring at him.
"Nothing. Just waiting for you to start talking." he replied easily, giving her another small smile.
"And what makes you think that's going to happen?" Regina rose from her position at the base of the hollow tree and stalked off, taking a deep breath. She wished he would just go away, and take his smiles and kind words with him. Behind her she heard the water begin to boil and Robin adding things into the pot. She sat down again, with her back to him, determined to ignore whatever it was he was cooking up.
Her stomach had different ideas. As the scent of stew began to waft over to her, it gave a loud growl. She flinched, wrapping a hand about her middle. She heard what she thought was a chuckle from the direction of the fire and scooted even farther away. There was no way he was—
"Regina." A steaming bowl appeared by her head, and she resisted the urge to turn away like a stubborn child. It would not have any effect on her. It would not. He sat down next to her, still holding the bowl out to her. "Come on, you need to eat. You're skin and bone under those rags, I can see it.
"Regina," he insisted as she kept her eyes resolutely forward. "You will die out here on your own. It's only been three weeks, and already I can see you're starving. When's the last time you ate until you were full? Hm? Before you left, I'd guess. How long do you think you'll last until you're too weak to get up in the morning? Till you're too weak to run?" His eyes bored into hers, and even out of the corner of her eye she could see the irritation in them growing. Good. Let him get mad, let him storm off and leave her here, alone.
"It's what I deserve," she wanted to whisper, the tears she hadn't noticed rising clouding her vision. But she kept quiet, kept ignoring him. If she did it long enough, he would go away. She hoped.
After a long silence Robin sighed and set the bowl down on the ground next to her. "You'll eat when you're hungry enough." he muttered, and went back to the fire.
The smell of the stew gnawed at her stomach, making it grumble and growl even louder than it had the first time. She could hear him eating behind her, but didn't turn. Couldn't bear the sight of him. What was he still doing here? Why hadn't he left yet, gone back to his band of men and his son? Why was he wasting his time on her, knowing that she'd never give in?
The sun went down and the stew grew cold, untouched next to her. She was still just close enough to the fire to feel its warmth on her back, but made no move to get closer. She didn't want to be warm, didn't want to sit next to him, have him pry the words out of her like some wearisome toddler. She flinched as his cloak closed around her shoulders, his hands lingering for a moment. One thumb caressed her jaw line, and she turned her head away, the first move she'd made in hours it seemed.
"Ah, the Queen lives," he murmured before sitting down next to her again.
"Go back to the fire, Robin," she said, voice grating with disuse. "And don't call me that."
"But, you see, you are a queen in my eyes," he said, and finally she turned to look at him. His teeth flashed in a quick smile, and he added, "And I'll only go back to the fire if you come with me."
She sighed heavily, rolling her eyes before pushing herself to her feet, muscles protesting after so long in the hunched position of her solitude. "We can't have us both getting sick," she muttered, and sat back down against the tree, stretching her legs out in front of her.
The light from the fire hurt her eyes; she rubbed at them irritably with both hands, only stopping when Robin joined her against the tree. "You must still be hungry," he said, and her eyes fell to the bowl in his hands. Not again.
She sighed again, trying to mask the growling of her stomach. "If I eat, will you shut up and leave me alone?" she snarled.
He seemed to muse for a moment, but Regina would have bet her life on his reply. "Maybe."
Snorting a little, she snatched the bowl from his hands and spooned up a mouthful. "Happy?" she said around the carrots and bits of meat.
Robin chuckled, "Getting there." He reached up to wipe a drop of broth from her lip and let his hand rest lightly on her cheek. His warm palm felt good against her cold skin, but she willed herself not to respond. Willed, and lost to want. She leaned into his touch, ever so slightly, and breathed in his scent. "I missed you," he murmured. "Why did you run?"
"You know why." Her eyes flew open and she sat up, shrugging his hand away. "Anyone I let get close I hurt, and the people I hurt stay…well." She let the sentence hang; after all, he could fill in the blanks well enough by now.
"And what made you think you could hurt me?" he asked, eye brows creasing. He reached for her again, but Regina pulled away, wrapping his cloak more tightly around her.
"It is what I do." A bit of her old drawling tone crept into her voice as she smiled icily. "Without fail.
"First, it was Daniel. Then my mother, although what I did to her was somewhat different. Not that it stuck anyway. And then my father; I pulled his heart out to enact the curse, did you know that? And then I made my own son believe—quite rightly—that I was the Evil Queen of his story book. And then my mother, again. That one stuck." A tear fell from her eye at the memory of her mother's eyes filling with love at the sight of her, of how she collapsed in her arms as the enchantment of the candle took hold. "And now I have lost my son for good. How long do you think it will be before I do something awful to you? Or to one of the men? Or…or to R—Roland?" A gasp shook her as an image of the little boy flashed before her mind's eye, recoiling from her in horror. Running from her.
She stilled as his arms closed around her shoulders, pulling her firmly against him. "It won't happen," he whispered in her ear as she finally let the tears fall freely. "I won't let it." He pressed a kiss to her hair and rested his forehead against her head.
"Y—you won't be able to stop it," she sobbed, leaning against him. "No one can."
He brushed the hair away from her face and fixed her in his blue stare. He held her cheek firmly in his left hand and raised his right wrist to her eyes. "Yes," he insisted, "I can." The rearing lion on the black field stared back at her, dancing slightly in the firelight.
With trembling hands she traced the ink embedded in his skin. "I—I'm not very good at this," she whispered brokenly. Her dark watery eyes flickered from his to the tattoo and back.
He laughed softly and pulled her closer, almost into his lap. "I can tell," he murmured, caressing her arms. "But I can teach you." He kissed her lightly on the forehead and rested her head against his chest, rubbing her back. "But first why don't you have yourself a good hard cry?"
And she did. And afterwards she slept as best she had in ages, tucked up against his chest, wrapped in his cloak and his arms. When she woke the next morning, with his head resting on top of hers, Regina couldn't help but feel as if she'd finally found where she was meant to be.
Author's Note: Well hello there massive one-shot that could be a chapter fic if I tried hard enough. Where did you come from? I quite liked this one; I didn't have to fight to make sense of it like I did with Running. Anyway, I hope you liked it! Thanks to all the readers who gave me such a warm welcome.