A/N: Part 2 of 3 (I hope). Thanks for all of the kind words. Enjoy!

He's waiting for her in the darkened hallway the next night, already in his white nightshirt and sporting a toothy smile like this is some kind of secret game of theirs and they both know it. He's standing just beneath one of the torches so light flickers and plays off his bronze cheeks.

"Hi," he says, his cheeks dimpling.

"Roland, are you lost again?" she asks as she strides up to him, her purple cloak swaying around her. She glances around for his father, but isn't all that terribly surprised to see him not around. Robin has a decidedly free way of thinking when it comes to his son, but all the same, it's hard to imagine that he could have lost sight of his child on back-to-back nights.

Unless he's playing some kind of absurd game with her.

No, she tells herself, that's just her usual paranoia playing games with her.

"Yes," the little boy replies, shrugging his shoulders.

He seems entirely too happy and unconcerned about his answer so she counters with a lifted eyebrow and, "Really? Are you really lost?"

"No," he admits, and his smile grows. She thinks she sees his eyes twinkle.

As easy as it would be to give into his playful attitude, she forces herself to take on a harsher demeanor with him. He's just a child and despite what the archer thinks, he should not be roaming around this castle on his own.

Especially not with Zelena somewhere out there.

"Why are you here, dear?" she asks, her hands settled on her hips.

If he notices the coldness of her approach, he shows no sign of it. "So you can walk me home," he tells her as he glances back down the dark hallway. She wonders if that darkness had even occurred to him on the way here.

"Home," she repeats almost inaudibly and thinks about how this place could never be home without Henry being here.

"To my papa."

"Yes, your papa. Does he know where you are tonight?"

Roland nods his head, and he smiles again. She thinks about asking him not to do that, but figures that he'd just look at her in confusion. Because he's a child and though he certainly has learned how to wrap people around his fingers with those dimples of his, there's clearly no malicious intent to it.

He is here – as Robin had said – because inexplicably, he likes her.

Preposterous, of course, but it's a hard conclusion to fully ignore or avoid.

"And he just let you come here?" she asks, her voice rising in pitch.

"Yup."

She almost demands to know why Robin would do such a thing, but again stops herself from voicing her thoughts because though Roland is naively decided that he likes and trusts her for whatever youthful reason, it's quite unlikely that he understands why his father is so idiotic as to do the same.

This Robin Hood is really starting to irritate her.

She smiles at Roland and then offers her hand. He takes it immediately and then takes a step down the hallway, pulling her along with him. "We had fish for dinner," he tells her. "It was better than the fish we usually have."

"Better pond," she tells him, which is a simplistic way of saying that now that they've retaken the castle, they have access to fresh water streams that house several tasty types of fish. What Robin and his people probably fed on was some of the lesser breeds that tended to make their way up in the streams and rivers of the neighboring forest. Disgusting, really.

She thinks maybe she'll tell Robin that.

On the other hand, that would require them to actually have a full conversation, and she has no desire to spend much time around the man. He's already seen too much of her thanks to having been her sole companion for when she'd retaken the castle. He remains - to this day - the only one that knows that she had tried to place a sleeping curse on herself.

She reminds herself that she'd paid him handsomely with those arrows.

Paid for his silence and his distance.

Unfortunately, Roland and his dimples aren't as easy to buy off.

"Can we fish?" he asks, making it clear who he means by "we".

"I haven't fished in many years," she tells him. "Not since I was a girl."

"So you can come with us. Papa is the best."

"Yes, I'm sure he is," she replies as they reach the room where Robin is, of course, standing outside the door waiting (he's actually leaning casually against it, not a worry sparking in his blue eyes), an amused smile on his lips.

"Roland." He nods at Regina. "Regina."

Her eyebrow lifts. "I believe we talked about this."

"Apologies. Your Majesty."

"Look, you can be trained."

"Occasionally."

"Yes, well, would you like to tell me why Roland came looking for me?"

"Haven't a clue," he replies in a way that makes it clear that he does know.

"He says you knew about it. Did you?"

"I knew he wanted to see you and ask you a certain question, but he didn't tell me what exactly the question was. I asked but he wouldn't tell me."

"Need I remind you again that he is just four years old?" she hisses.

"No," Robin chuckles. "You needn't. Roland, ask the Queen your question."

Oblivious to the tension, he asks, "Will you read to me tonight?"

Her mouth all but falls open and for a moment, all Regina can hear is the blood in her ears as her heart pounds with panic and fear and loss and so much grief that it's almost suffocating.

"No," she finally stammers out. "I have to…no, no I can't."

"Oh," he says, his face falling in a way that vaguely resembles what a puppy looks like after it's been thumped. After a moment, he shrugs his shoulders. "That's okay. Goodnight, then."

"Roland -"

He cocks his head curiously at her.

"Sleep well," she says weakly, hot tears prickling her eyes as she sees a look on his face that she knows far too well. Disappointment and sadness and it seems to always be directed towards her and her many mistakes.

But then just like that, Roland smiles in response to her words, and his eyes light up and she remembers just how astonishingly easy it is for children of his age to forgive and to let their darker emotions and theirs pain go.

It changes. It all changes.

Eventually they learn to resent and reject and…

"I'm your mother."

"No, you're not."

God, don't think about that.

"You're not a villain, you're my mom."

No, don't think about that, either.

"Don't ever play that kind of game with me again," she hisses at Robin once the door closes safely behind Roland and his far too innocent heart.

"I don't know what you're -"

"He's your son, not mine. Yours can't replace mine."

Robin holds up his hands in some kind of surrender. "That was neither his intention nor mine. I would never ever assume to even try to do such a despicable thing. Your boy lives in your heart, Regina, and always will. My boy simply prefers the sound of a woman reading as opposed to a man, and the first person he thought about there was you. I swear to you that there was nothing more to it than that."

She regards him for a moment, and then nods. "I thought his mother died when he was very young."

"She did, unfortunately. It's sadly quite unlikely that he will ever have any memory of her voice, but there have been other women that he has known. Do you know of a woman named Mulan?"

She thinks for a moment, and then, "The warrior? You were -"

He chuckles because her implication is clear. "Involved? No. I don't believe she's interested in...me. She was with my Merry Men for a time. She's since returned home to handle a personal issue, but while she was here, she took it upon herself to tell Roland stories, and I think he found her voice quite soothing. You don't share the same kind of voice, but I think he prefers a natural storyteller."

"And what makes you think that I am."

"You've lived far too much life not to be."

Her eyes flicker up towards his, and she finds herself unable to argue.

"Also, instinct, Your Majesty."

She snorts in disgust, quite glad – after that brief moment of emotional uncertainty - to be back on the solid ground of getting to mock him for her absurdly naïve thoughts. "Well, then you have horrific instincts, Archer."

"Do I?"

"You keep letting your son come near me."

"And we keep having this conversation," he volleys. "Perhaps eventually you'll listen to me when I tell you that neither he nor I fear you."

"Perhaps eventually you'll listen when I tell you that you should. Just because you're the only one who knows what happened when we retook the castle does not mean that I will have infinite patience with you."

"You'll have to show me when you start having patience," he chuckles.

She grits her teeth. "I don't have time for this foolishness. Do not let your son get lost again. It's not my responsibility to get him back home to you."

He nods his head, grimly. "Understood. I'll keep him away from you."

She almost protests, almost tells him that that's not what she'd meant by her words, but the truth is that it is, in fact, exactly what she'd meant so instead of putting in a meaningless clarification, simply replies with a sharply delivered, "Yes. See that you do that."

He watches her stride away, her cloak swishing around her and her heels tapping the ground and her head held up high like the Queen she is. All he sees, though, is the deep pain that had seen in her turbulently dark eyes.

So sharp and vivid and heartbreaking.

He thinks of Marian and there's a raw agony that jumps like a nerve in the middle of his chest because even four years later, he still misses her smile.

He's let go and he's willing to move on, but he's had time.

Regina has only memories and regrets and the feel of a young boy's hand.

Part of him desperately wants to follow after her so as to offer to listen and hear her talk (he finds that he likes her voice as much as his son does) but he'll respect her wishes for space and privacy and he'll stay clear.

The hard part will be keeping Roland away.

Roland goes down the hallway towards Regina's room the next night, and reluctantly, the archer follows his son and gently steers him back to their quarters, reminding him in a soft and hushed tone that the Queen is busy right now, and that they're guests in the castle which means they need to be respectful of such things. Roland nods his head like he understands, but Robin knows his boy well enough to spot the disappointment in his eyes.

So he takes Roland back to their room, and he reads to him, and he thinks about a woman with dark eyes and dark thoughts and an even darker past.

He thinks about all the things you lose and never find your way back to.

He thinks that he knows better than to allow himself to get pulled into such things; though she's not the woman of legend to his eyes, to herself she is clearly still the Evil Queen, and just a few weeks ago she her tried to put herself into an eternal sleep so as to prevent her heart from breaking over the loss of her son. She needs help far past what he can possibly offer.

Right?

Yes, right.

Right.

It's a few weeks long and quite cold weeks later – he's barely seen much of the Queen, who has quite clearly been going out of her way to avoid him, during that entire time - when he finds himself casually leaning up against the wall in one of the oversized banquet rooms, listening to the royals and nobles argue over just how less savory duties should be divided up. He's somewhat surprised that he's being allowed to be in here to listen – King George, whom he had regularly relieved of un-needed funds – keeps throwing icy glares his way, but so far no one has asked him to leave.

So he stays and he listens and he tries to remind himself that this is a new world order and it can't be built on the same class warfare as the old one.

Which means that despite his intense inclination to do so, he can't allow himself to despise those with crowns just because they have them.

Especially considering the fact that he doesn't feel anything of that sort towards the most notorious royal of them all, he thinks as his eyes flicker across Regina's passive and cold face. She's listening to George speak, and Robin thinks that she's either somewhere else completely or she is trying to stop herself from reaching over and magically slapping the hell out of him.

This debate – or well, best to call it what it is which is an argument – has been going on for hours now. Some of the haughty lords and ladies are quite insistent that those of higher-class blood should have the right to abstain from anything that sounds manual or physically difficult in nature.

That one or two of them had apparently worked as plumbers in the curious other world that keeps getting brought up - and this is mentioned, of course by a smirking slightly taunting Regina - gets brushed to the side as though it's of no consequence here. The royals expect special treatment and they have no intention of being pressed back in lower-class labor.

This goes on and on in ridiculous circles until the Queen finally loses her already paper-thin patience and stands up, her hands slamming down flat on the table and her ample bosom dipped down low enough for Robin to almost blush at all that he's not supposed to look at but finds himself unable to resist glancing at as Regina practically vibrates with just barely restrained rage. "Enough of this," she growls out. "We will all need to do our part or all of this will fail and the remaining ogres that weren't driven out will sweep right back in and turn all of us us into splintered toothpicks."

"You have magic," one of the nobles sputters.

"I don't like you," she reminds him with a sneer.

"Regina," Snow says, but she sounds both amused and exasperated. She'd been holding back for the most part – letting Regina and David handle much of the conversation – but she seems to be aware that things have hit the point where Regina is no longer willing to play nice with these fools.

"Papa," Robin suddenly hears from beside him. He turns to see John and Roland standing there, both of them covered in dirt from a long day out.

"Hey, Little Man," Robin whispers. He puts his finger to his mouth to urge silence and then winks at him. Roland grins back at him and falls quiet.

That doesn't stop him from waving over at Regina who gives him an incredulous look that seems to suggest that she can't quite believe that he'd done that before finally offering him a tiny amused smile in return.

When the meeting is over and all that's left is murderous looks from the royals towards Regina and her hissed declaration that they will get off their asses and actually be useful for their first time in their lives or else, he waits for her to approach and she doesn't disappoint, her irritation softening when she sees Roland standing next to his father, waiting patiently for her.

Like he knew she'd come over.

He probably did.

"Roland," she says in that low lovely rumbling voice of her. "What have you been doing all day, dear?" As if to explain her question, she reaches out, and with one of her thumb, rubs at a smudge of dirt on her right cheek.

"Playing in the forest with John and Tuck," Roland announces. "We climbed trees. Well, I climbed trees. They told me not to go to high."

"Some common sense. Who knew that was possible." Her eyes flicker up towards John and she regards him coolly. "He's filthy. So are you."

"My apologies, Your Majesty," John replies sarcastically. "I'll make sure to take a long milk bath before the next time I step into your presence."

"Yes, please see that you exactly that," she answers, her dark eyes dancing mischievously. Then, to Robin, she asks almost lazily, "Did you enjoy that?"

"The meeting?" he clarifies. When she nods, he replies with, "Well aside from your last statement to them, the whole thing reminded me of the ones that I watched my father conduct when I was a young boy. I thought the nobles intolerable, self-involved and pathetically myopic then, too."

"An accurate assessment," she allows with something that almost looks like a degree of respect. She looks down at Roland again and stops herself from attacking another dirt spot on his face. "Dinner will be served shortly," she says finally. "You should all get cleaned up before coming down. He -" she looks right at John with a lifted eyebrow. "Will certainly need extra time."

"She's right, John," Robin grins.

John bites his tongue and simply offers up a thin and unconvincing smile.

"Then I guess we will take our leave," Robin announces. He takes a step, then stops and says, "Will you join us at our table for dinner, perhaps?"

"Oh, I'm afraid that's not possible. I'm the Queen," she reminds him, but there's an uncertain tremor to her voice. "I'm expected to -"

"When it comes to dinner, I believe you can do whatever you'd like," he counters. "Which means that you can have dinner with us."

"She doesn't have to," John puts in.

She looks right at him, then at Roland. "Would you like me to join you?"

He nods and grins and that just about seals the deal even though she knows that she should retreat to her previous line about expectations.

But she doesn't. Instead, she throws one last haughty glance over at John - she finds it almost ridiculously hard not to intentionally irritate him and he clearly feels the same way about her - and then back to Robin. "Very well."

John groans. Robin claps him on the back and laughs.

And Regina just watches and wonders what she's getting herself into.

Dinner with Robin and his son and his Merry Men at their table is both nice and frighteningly casual and simple (even John is reasonably polite aside from a few muttered half-insults) and that's probably why she beats a hasty retreat as soon as it's over; it'd actually been a good meal and people had been laughing and happy and no one (except John) had been glaring at her.

There'd been no real seething hatred aimed towards her.

She doesn't know what to make of that.

So she excuses herself and tells them she has Queenly things to do.

And Roland thanks her for joining them with deep, deep, deep dimples.

She hopes no one notices how quickly she'd departed.

She's certain that at least one person had.

She's awoken by the sound of something loudly hammering away on her door. Her immediate impulse is to turn towards an alarm clock that is no longer there or to glance at a watch that she no longer wears. She groans and turns over and remembers that she's the Evil Queen and can curse whomever it is that is waking her up at what is surely an unspeakable hour.

The pounding continues.

She thinks to ignore it, but then she hears his voice.

"Regina," the archer calls out. "Please. I need your help."

She rises and brings a cloak around herself. She's not quite decent for a Queen, but nor is she showing off anymore than her dresses usually do.

She pulls the door open and stares back into Robin's worried eyes.

"What's wrong?" she snaps out at him as she comes to full waking awareness in the blink of an eye. Because she knows that look. Parent to parent, she knows the terrible look that is now creasing his face.

"He's missing," Robin breathes. "He's gone."

"He's not…did he come looking for me?"

"He's not in the hallway. I woke up and went to check on him and I've been through every hallway that there is and John has and…"

She puts a hand on her forearm. "We'll find him," she assures him. "He told me that he's used to getting lost and that you don't worry about it."

"He's my son, Regina. He's all I have left in this world. Of course, I worry."

"I know," she answers, her voice so calm and steady despite the fact that her heart is beating entirely too fast and all she can see in her head are pictures of Henry and all she can remember is the night that he'd gone to Boston to get Emma and she'd been so very terrified and certain – despite Graham's whispered repeated assurances - that something horrible had happened to him. That fear is in her now, but she lies to Robin because he needs her to. "But I'm telling you right now to worry because he will be okay. I promise you that. Now, let me get dressed and wake up the two idiots and then we'll get moving on putting your son back in your arms."

TBC…