Prompt: Moving Out
wander (we're not lost)
It's Marian's idea, not his, and he will not deny her anything (not anymore, not after what has happened).
The woman he married is not callous, not hateful nor petty, and so it is right and fitting that Marian suggests he take some time to clear his head, to think about things, about their current situation.
"I know how the woods have always given you solace," she tells him, eyes always darting just past him to look for Roland, at the circle with his men. "You used to sojourn into the woods often, just to clear your head."
Robin nods. She's right, he did - when the Sheriff was after him, when the Evil Queen's troops were on their tail (the woman he loves is Regina, queen and mayor and mother and lover, more than the sum of her parts, far more complicated than just the evil royal he used to curse when he lived in the Enchanted Forest).
He knows what Marian wishes: that his time away from them (her) will only make his love for them (her) grow fonder and will bring him back to her (their) arms again. And yet, as he packs up his bedroll and meager belongings and heads into the woods, he knows deep in his heart (in his soul) that the time apart will do the opposite. But he still goes, because he will not deny her anything.
Marian clutches Roland's tiny hand in her own, waving goodbye to him from the edge of the campsite, and Robin smiles until he turns away, hefting his pack on his shoulder and trekking deeper into the forest.
As Robin walks beneath the tall pines and the dense canopy, he tries not to think - tries to let nature speak to him but when the wind seems to sing Regina as it weaves through the leaves, and the birds echo in harmony.
He has not seen her for three weeks and yet he cannot stop thinking of her. She is the shadow in the corner of his vision and even though he keeps turning, certain he has found her, she is never there.
…
He spends his first night in a meadow, underneath the stars (they are different stars than he knows and so he traces the constellations, tries to commit them to memory, to compare them to the ones he is used). He wakes to the sound of birds, and the first rays of the sun.
He has slept better than he has in days, maybe weeks, better than -
He swallows her name before it falls off his lips, tries not to think of the touch of skin against skin, the coolness of her silk sheets, the smell of her hair.
He breaks camp and heads back into the woods, restless and agitated, trying to find peace in nature.
It doesn't come.
…
Robin is a good shot, but his arrows always miss and so his rations diminish as he struggles to keep his hands steady, his aim true. He is distracted, he knows it, because whenever he tries to think about Marian, he never does, and whenever he avoids the thought of Regina, she never leaves his mind.
When she returns, Marian is not happy about his dalliance. There are no secrets between them and so she knows about the full nature of his relationship with the Queen.
"But she was going to kill me," Marian points out, and Robin adds, quietly, that she did kill Marian (one in some astronomical number, he knows, and it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue).
"She's a monster," Marian stresses.
"The Evil Queen was a monster," Robin admits. "Regina is not the Evil Queen."
Robin knows that Regina is many things, but he believes that the Evil Queen ceased to exist the moment the first curse was cast and most of the Enchanted Forest brought to here. He believes that the time between then and now was a penance, for her sins against others. He believes, from what he's seen, that there's more to Regina than other's give her credit for, even more than she can see herself.
Marian does not like it when he defends her, when he tries to explain what he finds in Regina but find that words cannot explain it. He just does, but that is never enough for his wife, and he can hardly blame her.
He grabs another arrow from his quiver as he spots a wild turkey, hoping for the best and expecting the worst.
(He does not eat turkey that night.)
…
He loves Marian. He does. She is the mother of his child, his wife and helpmate. She is as beautiful as she was when he first met her, and he would move heaven and earth to keep her safe, to keep his family together. Every day he is thankful that she is returned, that Roland has his mother once more, that he can look on her face one more time.
He loves Regina. He does, with every fiber of his being and every beat of his heart. She is his other half, the missing piece that completes him (when he is with her, he feels whole). He is fascinated by the hidden depths behind her carefully constructed facade, wants to learn every inch of her skin and thought in her head. Every day he is thankful that she was once in his life, even if he misses her to the point that the loss of her is a dull ache that even his love of his family cannot soothe.
…
The storm comes out of nowhere, and he is trapped.
The wind rushes through the trees, which sway precariously above him, but even as he runs, he cannot see where he is going, cannot keep his footing on the slick rocks.
He falls, there is a crack, and then darkness.
…
When he wakes, he is no longer in the forest.
The sheets underneath him are familiar (he presses his palms against them, reveling in the cool silken feel because he knows) and he takes a deep breath, struggling to sit up to find her -
"Don't." Her hand is on his bare shoulder, pressing him back into the sheets and Robin glances up to find Regina not looking at him, lips pursed, jaw tight. "You got hurt in the storm. I've healed your leg, but you should rest. You were soaked to the bone." She's sitting on the edge of the bed, the closest she's been in weeks and he stares at her greedily, sure he'll never get his fill.
"How did you know?" he asks. "Did someone report me missing?"
Regina stands, walks away from him. He watches her shoulders rise and fall as she takes a deep breath.
"I found you," she says, like it should be obvious, like it should make sense, but how would she know?
He asks her as much.
Regina takes a seat on the far edge of the bed, far away from him. She does not seem eager to answer him, but he needs to know. Does his family know where he is?
"Regina."
Her name is a harsh whispers from his lips and she reacts, taking a trembling breath, looking down at her hands before looking back at him, jaw set even if her lips quiver.
"I felt it," she tells him, and her voice sounds rough, harsh, like these are words that she is forcing out. "I felt your pain."
Robin frowns. "How is that even possible?"
Regina composes herself quickly (or at least attempts to). She reaches down to smooth the blanket over his legs, brushing off invisible dirt. "You should rest before you go home."
She stands, gives him a careful, sad look, and then turns to the doorway, ready to leave but Robin has never been one to let anything go without a fight, and so he asks her, one more time, "How is that even possible?"
He knows the answer before she says it. She clutches the doorframe, fingers digging into the wood (he's not sure if she needs the support, needs the reassurance of something steady and solid) but when she turns and tells him, "Because I love you," that is all he needs to hear.
He is out of bed and in front of her in three steps, hovering so close that he can reach out and touch her (so he does, fingers brushing over her shoulder, circling her slender wrist).
"Regina," he says, and waits, feeling the tension build in Regina at his presence, waiting for the moment for her to do something. Her breathing is harsh and heavy, shoulders moving with each breath, and when her eyes finally meet his, he breaks.
He pulls her forward, kissing her like he has wanted to for three long weeks, kissing her like he wants to for ever single week from this day on. Her lips are warm and familiar, the feel of her in his arms like coming home. He kisses her forehead, her eyelids, the apples of her checks, and a sob forms in the space between his head and heart and breaks when she sighs Robin with tears in her dark eyes.
Marian sent him into the forest to find his heart but he should have realized that it was here all along.
