Ok, so huuuuge apologies for not updating anything for a while, but I've been spending a lot of time on this other project that I have ongoing, and I needed to work out where this fic was heading too – because I was writing blind and I didn't like it.

But I now have a plot so things are good, and I know this is rather short, but I couldn't find anything else to add without doubling the word count, so I just thought I'd update this now.

I'm rambling, sorry.

Anyway, I hope you all like it, drop me a review or whatever if you can, and thank you for sticking with me :D

…

There were few things that Robin Locksley completely abhorred, and - being someone who had chosen to kill for a living - any person he found to be involved in said things wouldn't even know what hit them.

One of those; people who mistreated children.

From the moment a baby entered the world, they were innocent. They deserved no pain, no suffering, and if they were raised right, then they would grow to become people who deserved nothing less than happiness. It was life that hardened them, changed them into people capable of hurting others, hurting themselves, taking lives… It was life that screwed them over and forced their hand. And the people who played a part in ruining a childhood… They deserved everything Robin would do to them.

He might have been a little harsh on them now and again, but, well… he hoped that if he protected enough children from the cruelness of the world, perhaps he could atone for not protecting his own when he had the chance.

It wouldn't do to dwell on it, Robin knew that, but after nearly four years of countless efforts to find his boy and hitting nothing but dead ends, it was becoming easier to lose hope of ever seeing him again.

He was a father without a son, and despite being granted use of his employer's resources - that were slowly dwindling down anyway - that fact did not appear to be any closer to changing.

Throwing himself into his work, building contacts, gaining skills… It all seemed beneficial to retrieving his son from whoever took him. Of course, over time, the job became seductive; good pay, making a difference, the allure of taking the law into one's own hands…

And he was good at it too; an effective hunter, talented with weapons, professional in all aspects of the job…

Until it came to little miss hot assassin…

Just the thought of her had his blood pressure rising. Lord knows she had gotten under his skin; she had eased herself into his thoughts, that sassy, sexy, sinful woman, and she had driven him to the edge of insanity.

And she seemed to make it her mission to appear whenever he least wanted an interference; at the bar when he wanted to kill Sidney Glass, outside King's Law Firm when he wanted to kill George King, outside the dry cleaners when he wanted to kill Walter Napton…

And now? She was at The Langham Hotel when he wanted to kill Rosina Leckermaul.

Damn that woman.

She was sat in the lobby with a newspaper, her eyes drifting to the elevators at the other side of the foyer every time the doors opened. Robin didn't even need to ask what she was doing there; she was here to make his life difficult again.

Though the immediate irritation and frustration at her being there faded when he remembered that she had agreed to back down the next time they met, and that just left the excitement and anticipation of meeting this woman again having him bite his lip.

He had no idea how she managed to look so prim and pristine all the time, but she had managed it again. An unfastened black trench coat hung open at her sides, framing the blue dress that clung to her curves, and of course the heels that were completely impractical but did marvellous things to her legs that he was one step away from drooling over anyway.

He walked over as quiet as he could then pushed the top of the newspaper down, smiling when she jumped in her chair and tried to mask her startled expression with a glare. He grinned as he sat in the seat perpendicular to hers, interlocking his fingers and resting them over his stomach, delivering a cheerful; "hi."

Her responding "hello" was considerably less bright, and Robin grinned all the more.

"So…" he started, leaning forwards and resting his elbow on his knee so he could talk in hushed tones, "you're here for…?"

"You know damn well I'm here for Ms Leckermaul," she snapped as she folded the newspaper and threw it on the coffee table in front of them.

"Not anymore you're not," Robin declared with a smirk. "You said you'd give up the next one, remember?"

The way her nostrils flared as she ground her teeth together in frustration struck up a feeling of victory inside Robin.

Damn it felt good to one-up her.

Her irritated gaze fell to the floor. Though when her eyes returned to his after she had taken a deep breath, they held an expression that had Robin taking a deep breath of his own.

She uncrossed her legs and leaned towards him, shifting to the edge of her seat, and Robin had to fight not to let his gaze fall to the low neckline or the hem rising up her thighs.

"Is there nothing I could offer you instead?" She drawled, having Robin almost growling 'yes' and jumping her right then.

But he knew what she was up to – had played the same game himself more than once – and he would not fall victim to her charms. He held back, internalised everything and kept his exterior cool as he humoured her; "What did you have in mind?"

"Depends on what you're into," she quipped, mischief dancing behind her eyes.

Oh, he'd like to know what she was into. But he had a job to do; he needed to kill that witch who had an affinity for destroying children. He couldn't let anyone distract him. Not even if they were hot as fuck and offering themselves as consolation for killing his target once again.

"You want to know what I'm into?" Robin asked, lowering his voice and leaning forwards until there was not a foot between them. He felt victorious at the hitch in her breath and the glance down to his lips. He hated to burst her I'm-so-irresistible bubble, but he took a little pleasure in the way her face froze when he quipped; "I'm into doing my job and getting paid for it."

Her lips pursed to the side in an unimpressed glare. She huffed and sat back in her chair, closing the front of her coat around her and crossing her legs again, shrugging and declaring an indifferent; "It was worth a shot."

Robin smirked. "Afraid I'm not that easily distracted, Milady."

"I shall have to try harder next time."

"I look forward to that," he grinned.

"Of course you do."

Robin's eyes fell back down, roaming over the black coat hiding all the skin that had been displayed for him mere moments ago.

"No," she teased, sitting up and directing his gaze back to her face with a finger under his chin. "If you don't want to touch, you shouldn't look."

"I never said I didn't want to touch, Milady," Robin offered without missing a beat.

He removed her hand from under his chin and held it, his gaze falling to her lips - which she swiped with her tongue, probably to rile him on purpose.

Her smirk reminded him to look back in her eyes, but when he did, she was staring at his mouth and he'd be damned if he didn't use this opportunity to his advantage. He dug his teeth into his lower lip, slowly letting the flesh go then smirking as the woman staring at him couldn't help but take in a breath before returning her gaze to meet his.

Her smirk mirrored his, and Robin felt himself starting to lean closer.

The buzzing of the phone in his pocket pulled them both out of the moment, and Robin cursed whoever was checking up on him.

Pulling his phone out and resting his forearms on his knees, he checked the message and sender.

It was John. Typical.

Boss is in a bad mood today, Robin. You better get this one to save us all.

Well, that settled it; little miss hot assassin wasn't getting Leckermaul. She'd have to kill him first. And judging by the unusually bright smile on her face, she wasn't feeling all that murderous at that moment.

She grinned even more as she leaned even further towards him, though this grin was more of the victorious than the seductive, and it incited a little twinge of fear inside him.

"So… Robin…" she started, drawling out her words in a way that had him swallowing and forgetting that she now held the upper hand once again. "You should tell your friends to be less liberal with your name."

Stuck for any other quip – and still recovering from the way his name sounded in her sultry voice – Robin fell back on the childish, immature response of; "at least I have friends."

He regretted it when there was a flash of pain behind the beautiful, chocolate eyes he had been staring into a few moments ago.

She recovered quickly though, snapping a sassy; "I can't fathom why."

The easy atmosphere had gone, the woman once playing the seduction card now gripping the sleeves of her coat and staring at her discarded newspaper. Robin could have kicked himself.

"So, I get all the targets from now on, right?" Robin prompted, not expecting her to agree in the slightest, but hoping that pulling her back into their banter would help return her smile. She seemed to enjoy taking him down a peg or two, and he'd put up with it if it returned her smile.

"No," she declared - as expected - before adding; "this is the only target I'm allowing you to have. The rest you can fight me for."

Robin scoffed. "You think I'm going to allow myself to get beaten by a girl?"

"Woman," she corrected with a glare. "And you already have been."

"Well it's not going to happen again," Robin assured.

"Want to bet on that?" She teased, and the smile gracing the corners of her lips brought a silent sigh of relief from him; he hadn't cocked everything up. Yet.

Though whilst they were on the topic, he could at least try and wring out another gold star from his employer. "I need these targets."

Of course it wasn't that easy; "As do I."

"You can get the money for them elsewhere," Robin tried, a hint of questioning in his tone.

"It's not about the money."

Robin was rather taken aback by her response. If it wasn't about the money… "Then what is it about?"

After a second or two of deliberation she confessed; "Killing these people my way pisses of someone I hate."

Robin smiled. "Ah, so this is some kind of petty war."

"It is not petty!" She snapped, and suddenly there was a look in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. One that scared him.

Whatever was going on between the person she wanted to piss off and little miss hot assassin herself, it was something more than he had first assumed. And from the sudden darkness and bloodlust in her eyes, there was hell to pay.

Robin's curiosity got the better of him and he couldn't help but tentatively ask; "What did they do?"

The response was a curt; "That's none of your concern."

And of course it wasn't, why would it be? He was just some random competition getting in her way. He hadn't earned the right to any of her secrets. Though when she stood and smoothed out her dress, preparing to leave, Robin remembered that wasn't quite true; she had promised him her name at least.

Robin stood too, blocking the route between the gap in the two chairs that she appeared to have been planning to take.

"You didn't tell me your name," he stated.

"Didn't I? How about that?"

"Come on; tit for tat," Robin prompted.

"Robin," she started, proving her next jibe; "I already know your 'tat'."

"So show me your 'tit'," he responded in a beat, not thinking in the slightest of how that would sound outside of his head. He grimaced. "I didn't mean it like that,"

She rolled her eyes. "Of course you didn't; the thought has never crossed your mind, right?"

"But of course not," he protested in what they both knew was clearly a lie, before he took a moment to lower his gaze and obviously linger just to rile her. He looked up at her with a smirk, chuckling at her pursed lips and raised eyebrow forming an expression that was the definition of 'unimpressed'.

His chuckle brought forth a glare from her, and for some insane reason he just chuckled again.

"Well, now you've had your fun, I'm going to get going," she declared as she turned and started walking around the chairs the long way.

Robin quickly sobered, taking quick steps and reaching out to grab her hand to stop her from getting away.

"Sorry," he breathed, and why is he apologising to this woman? He doesn't apologise, ever. And she started it! He allowed a pause for his unexpected apology to sink in before he asked again; "What's your name?"

The woman paused, clearly concerned about revealing that information. He felt the need to tell her she needn't worry; he wasn't going to cause damage, he just wanted to know a bit more about her. And besides, she knew his name now… It was only fair.

Robin's attention was caught by the sight of his thumb stroking over her knuckles - when had he started doing that? Though rather than stopping as he should have done, he just memorised the softness of her skin, hoping she didn't notice and tear her hand away.

His voice turned soft as he pointed out; "You got Walter and King. I got the next target and your name. That was the deal."

"I don't make deals," she protested with a hint of warning in her tone.

"So you've said," Robin acknowledged with a nod of his head. "But you did say that you'd tell me."

"I did," she admitted. "Though in all fairness I was rather distracted at the time."

Robin hummed and smiled at the memory of his hand resting at the base of her neck as his lips hovered over hers, breathing her air.

Well… It was certainly one of the most pleasurable ways to negotiate.

The thought had him smiling even more and asking; "Do I have to nearly kiss you again for you to tell me?"

Robin watched her small smile fade as he took a step closer to her, her eyes dropping to his lips for a moment before rising to meet his gaze.

"What's your name?" He asked once more, his voice nearly a whisper.

She blinked and parted her lips, taking in a breath ready to speak when there was a loud, feminine shout of "Regina!" from behind him.

The woman in front of him closed her mouth, rolled her eyes and huffed before looking over his shoulder at whoever had shouted across the hotel lobby.

A couple of seconds later there was a different woman at his side. Her blonde, curly hair pulled into a high ponytail, her green dress still floating from her journey over to them before it settled about her knees and another breathless "Regina," left the pink lips still stretched into a grin.

Robin turned back to face his hot assassin - who was now directing a glare at this new blonde - for an explanation.

"Regina," she stated as she turned to him, which didn't really help clear anything up; he had heard that twice already. His frown must have shown his confusion as she then rolled her eyes and stated; "my name is Regina."

Ah, ok.

Robin missed the next few words of the conversation between the two women, his head finally allocating a name to the face that had been on his mind for the past three weeks.

He was drawn back when the blonde mentioned the name of his target, stating that she had an interview with Rosina Leckermaul regarding the allegations of having children work for her in poor conditions, and the periods where she went off the grid and could not account for her whereabouts. The way she was talking, Robin assumed she was some kind of reporter, though reporters were one of the professions that assassins hated with a passion, so it rather confused Robin why his hot assassin seemed to have some sort of camaraderie with this one.

Regina - he finally knew her name - turned to the blonde with an apologetic smile, "that interview's not going ahead, Tink."

'Tink'? That was her name? Honestly? What kind of undeserving parent would name their child Tink?

"Seriously?" The blonde exclaimed, before she was hushed by her friend. "You're going to kill her too?"

"I'm not," Regina stressed before she turned to look at Robin with a grin.

The new girl - Tink - turned to look at him with slight outrage in her eyes.

"Marvellous," he quipped. "Throw me under the bus, why don't you, milady?"

"Gladly," Regina grinned, and Robin couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Who's this?"

"Oh. Tink; Robin," Regina introduced, inclining her head, before she reversed it. "Robin; Tink."

The blonde's quizzical gaze switched back and forth between the pair. "Are you two together?"

There were dual scoffs and protestations of "No!" which had no effect on the expression aimed at them.

Tink merely levelled a pointed glare at the both of them as she pointed out with a smug smile; "you're holding hands."

Robin looked down to notice that indeed, he still held Regina's hand in his; Tink's arrival had interrupted them and it simply hadn't occurred to him that he should let go.

Though Regina let go of his hand as if she had been burned, wiping her palms on the front of her coat as she turned away from him towards her friend.

"We should get going, Tink; Robin has a job to do."

He caught the teasing in her eyes, retorting; "Indeed I do, thanks to you Milady."

"By the way," she started with a glare, before she softened and leaned closer to him and spoke into his ear; "your target has just come down to the lobby, and she'll be here for about 6 minutes. Go get her."

Not bothering to ask what she had planned for the six minutes she had expected to be hers, Robin smiled at Regina, offering a warm; "I'll see you soon."

"The next one's mine," she reminded him before she grasped Tink's elbow and started walking away.

"What makes you think I'll give up so easily?" He shouted after her

"Because I'll be trying harder next time."

Her parting wink and grin were dangerous.

…

He was not entirely sure what prompted him to do so, but whilst following his boss' orders to make Leckermaul suffer before she died, he withdrew the information that Regina's friend wanted. Forming a list of the places Rosina had been when she had been off the grid, and drawing out a spoken confession of child abuse. The more information he knew, the more he had to restrain himself from really letting loose.

His boss had seemed pleased with the results however, had even smiled - god that was scary. Though Robin had kept the extra information secret; he'd just find a way to send that to Tink as soon as he was back in his home. He was doubtful his behaviour would be deemed acceptable by his employer.

Which was where he was heading now. If the damn elevator arrived.

Watching the illuminated numbers count up to 4 got very boring rather quickly, though he was suddenly accompanied by a large man to his right, a man he'd know anywhere.

He sent a smile to John Little - an ironic name to say the least, given the man's size - before he remembered what his friend's text had interrupted, and that smile turned into a glare in the next fraction of a second.

How dare he?

The tinny ding of the elevator drew Robin out of his silent fuming. Then, as soon as the doors closed, Robin's vow to give his so-called mate the silent treatment until the next day ended.

John directed his stare back to the man next to him after his finger jabbed G for the ground floor car park. "It's about damn time you got your target, Robin. One more missed one and boss man was going to turn into a beast."

"Well, I got my target," he gritted in response.

"Finally," John chuckled, oblivious to his friend's rising temper. "You gonna tell me why you keep failing?"

"I don't keep failing," he protested, before defending himself; "there's just another assassin who keeps getting there first."

"Yeah? Well you know if you just told the boss he'd get rid of them for you."

"No," Robin growled before he even realised. He just couldn't stomach the thought of his boss getting his hands on Regina. At John's puzzled stare, he amended himself; "she's not that bad."

"She?" John laughed, a hand to his rotund belly as he threw his head back. "Oh man, you got your ass kicked by a girl?"

"Woman," Robin corrected automatically. "And she's damn good."

John scoffed. "Yeah, well, when you get yourself torn a new one you can decide if she's worth it."

It only took a few seconds for Robin to come to the conclusion that she was.