Robin struggles for strength, the nearness of her, the feel of her against him, all contributing to a definite assault against his self-control. But he knows they can't just "figure it out later." He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that should he and Regina make love, everything would change. He wouldn't be able to hold anything back from her about how he felt, and he doesn't want the first time together to be stained by the memory of the compulsion they were under. Even though everything in him screams to be with her, and it takes every ounce of willpower he possesses, he again pulls away from her.

Regina looks at him in disbelief, and the heat in her suddenly surges fire-bright with this latest rejection. Desire is replaced by fury, and she feels herself flush so hot that sweat immediately pops out along her hairline, causing the strands of hair around her face to curl slightly. She curls her hands into fists.

"Really!?" she all but shrieks, an image of pummeling him with her fists flaring into her mind. "In spite of everything you've said, the idea of being with me is still not worth your life? Fine then, Robin, let me tell you about the other cure."

She paces in front of him, short sharp steps, anger radiating from her so fiercely that Robin swears he can almost feel the heat of it. But, he thinks, that could be his own fever. He watches the Queen, and wonders if that surge of violence could manifest into a magical assault. However, strangely, he's not afraid of her, but for her. She turns back to face him.

"Fighting. But this is no verbal assault, no spell;, this is a pure physical attack, hands and fists and feet, whatever works. I'm sure you're familiar with that, thief," she snarls at him. "In order to lower the fever, we would have to fight. You would have to hit me so hard that blood runs down my chin, hard enough to crack my cheekbone and break my ribs, beat me until I couldn't move, until I am a bloody pulp near death!"

She yells this last word at him, and Robin flinches. Every word she has said is building an image in his horrified mind, an image of his Queen, his Regina, hurt and cut and bleeding, sobbing and in pain….and all because of him. His chest feels tight, so tight, and his throat constricts. He could never….never do that to her….never hurt her like that. No matter what. His mouth is suddenly bone-dry.

"Regina, no, stop, I wouldn't, I can't-" he chokes out, but she interrupts him and continues, undeterred.

"And I would have to try and do the same to you," she whispers, her eyes wide and still so angry, but with a sheen of tears filling them. Her jaw clenches.

"I would have to do the same to you!" she cries out, and Robin can hear the horror in her own voice, understands that she is picturing the same thing, and it is as terrifying to her as it is to him. Her eyes flash to his, and she is trembling. Tears suddenly spill over and rush down her cheeks. "Because it is only then, when release has come, that the spell breaks. It is the only way, and you… you would make me do the same to you rather than be with me. You would let us die rather than make love to me!"

Her voice is an agonized wail, and without warning she launches herself at him, starts to hit and claw at him, managing to get in a few good blows to his arms and chest before he has time to react. She is crying as she hits him, but doesn't stop. He tries to grab her hands without hurting her, avoiding her feet as she kicks at him. He begs her, pleads her, to stop.

"This is what you wanted!" she screams, struggling against him. "You don't want me, you don't, so you must want this!"

"Gods, no, Regina, how could you think that!?" he cries out, finally managing to grab both her hands, trying to hold her against him, to reassure her, to calm her down. Her skin is a fearful heat against him, and he is worried beyond belief. She is strong, so very strong, but still so fragile, delicate under the armor of the image of the Queen, and Robin knows her body can't take much more. She finally sags against him, gasping, tears still falling down her face.

"How could I think otherwise?" she whispers brokenly, and his heart clenches painfully at her words.

He stares at her. She's flushed, her breathing as hard as his, staring back at him with both desire and guilt in her eyes. He would do anything for her, wouldn't he? If he did this with her though, she could very well hate him for it later. "I do want you," he declares to her, consequences be damned. He needs her to know that at least, so she'll understand. "I have wanted you from the moment I first saw you."

"I need you, Robin," she whispers, swallows. Struggles to stay on her feet, but she is growing weaker and he has to keep his hands on her arms to support her, and then she says the words that break him. "This will be fatal if the potion doesn't work."

"It will work," he tells her gently, tries to be soothing, but the thought of losing her chills him to the bone. He will not let that happen, he will die before he'd let that happen, but there has to be another way. Another way than them taking that intimate step that will forever change things between them. He closes his eyes for a moment and clenches his jaw.

"Nothing has to change if you don't want it to," she says it softly, the words halting and uncertain. "It can just be this once."

"I won't let us die, Regina." He says her name, and she loves it. Loves the way it falls from his lips, it's like a caress, like he knows who she is beneath the darkness, though she's never really allowed him to see that part of her. Not really. He begins again, "I just - you're the Queen, and I'm..." She inhales, knows what he means. The title she's held between them keeping him in his place and her in hers. "I don't think I could give you up once I've had you. I don't think you understand how much I truly care for you, milady. Let's give the Prince a chance to get back to us before we do anything we might regret later."

"I just don't know how long I can hold out," she says, and she's not sure if she means the fever or keeping the distance between them. There are beads of sweat on her forehead. She closes her eyes and bites her lip. Shudders run through her, and she remembers reading about fevers once, in Storybrooke, when Henry was very small and sick with a temperature of 102. Remembers that prolonged fevers can cause convulsions, damaging convulsions, and she feels she is very near that state herself.

Robin presses his forehead to hers. Her fever has climbed, judging by the scorching temperature of her skin against his, and if hers is any indication of his, he knows he is not faring any better, doesn't need a healer to know it is approaching dangerous levels. He cups her cheeks in his palms, tilts her head up so he can look into her eyes, and makes the only suggestion that seems sensible. "Maybe we could go out and stand in the rain?"

She dosen't know whether to be grateful for or amused by his suggestion. She tries to nod her consent, but he is already moving them toward the mouth of the cave.

Be realistic, she tells herself. The rain will be cool, it will bring down the fever instead of allowing it to climb. It's sensible, and she know it, but it's not what she wants. Not what her body is crying out for. Robin doesn't think she understands his feelings but she does. She feels them too, so much so that the intensity of her feelings frighten her. She's fought her attraction to him since the day they met, and her feelings for him for almost as long. She may be the Queen and he may be just a thief, but she loves him. Titles and nobility be damned; she couldn't care less. Perhaps there was something to what he'd been saying? He wants her but not like this. He wants to be with her because they want it, not because they need it.

As they set foot out into deluge, she tries to relax. Leans back against him, as he leans against the mouth of the cave, and closes her eyes. The cool water hits her face, and she thinks this is it, this will help, but she can feel her fever. She can feel it in her veins, in her blood, mocking the chill of the rain. This is a magical fever, after all, and is not going to respond normally to what should work. Regina lifts her face, and her nose drags across his jaw, the stubble of his beard sending shivers down her spine. His hands that were once clenched at his side are now on her, on her sides, she can feel the weight of them right below her breasts. Something is different, she feels it in the way he's now breathing against her neck.

They are both breathing heavily, her eyes close as she feels his hands move down, over her hips, where he grasps them, and she lets out a gasp of surprise as he pulls her back against him. He lets out a groan in time with hers as she feels him against her. He's hard, pressing into her lower back, and she catches her bottom lip with her teeth, sighs a breathy, "Robin."

One of his hands releases its hold, and her eyes widen as she feels him slide his hand into the waistband of her pants. Her breath quickens, as he places a wet kiss on her neck; his hot lips are wonderful contrast to the cool rain falling against her skin, and then his voice is low and rough, almost strained in her ear when he tells her, "What if we tried to do this another way..."

His hand slides down, at her enthusiastic nod, and the moan she releases would be embarrassing if she knew he isn't just as affected by this as she. His rough fingertips are on her clit, rubbing in tight circles, and she is in heaven and hell all at once. She doesn't care that they are standing out in the middle of the forest, she doesn't care if anyone hears them, all she cares about is him, and that he never stops touching her. She sinks her teeth into her lip and her breath hitches again, as she reaches back blindly and threads her fingers into his hair, and breathes, "I don't care what way we do it, as long as you fuck me."


Worth the wait I hope. ;) The part I know you all are waiting for is coming next.