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If Regina Mills had been one to knock her forehead on her desk in desperation, she would be doing so now. Repeatedly. Instead, she sat in her chair, elbows propped onto her desk and chin resting on her intertwined fingers, her gaze unfocused on her large office, trying to make sense of what was happening.
She knew she was many things –hot tempered, controlling, a murderer-, yet she had never seen herself as stupid. However, after the events that had taken place the previous evening, she was starting to wonder if her appraisal of herself needed to be revised.
What had possessed her to invite the thief into her home? As the mayor, she never extended invitations to dinner, all her very infrequent business lunches taking place in her office. Moreover, she had never felt the need to cook for anyone except for Henry and the yearly town fair.
Unable to sit still any longer, Regina got up from her chair and started pacing in front of the window. She looked out of it and spied the clock tower: 11 am. H minus eight hours.
She had accepted his coffee. She had let him see her cry. Instead of sending him off with a few sharp words, she had let him see her vulnerable and had ended up inviting him to dinner. She shook her head in disbelief. She was starting to wonder if it had been her and not Henry who had been trapped in the mine: maybe she had knocked her head and suffering from a very bad concussion.
Thinking about Henry she winced, remembering the scene that had taken place that morning during breakfast.
Regina studied her son carefully, taking in the bulge his bandaged knee made under his trousers and the light cuts he had on his forehead. As per usual, he was wolfing down his food without sparing her a second glance. She felt nervous, a feeling which only seemed to plague her when what she was thinking was somehow related to her son. She didn't know how he would react to hearing that they were to have guests for dinner, especially as these guests happened to be the man who had saved him and his son. A son of whom Henry had appeared to be jealous of just the day before…
In an uncharacteristic gesture, she loudly cleared her throat. "Henry? I have something to tell you…" Surprisingly, he looked up at her with something like hope flashing in his eyes. Surely he didn't think she was about to admit to being her? "I invited someone to dinner tonight."
Henry frowned. "You did? Who?"
"The man who pulled you out of the mine last night, his name is Robin. He's coming at seven with his son…Roland." She let the name drop hesitantly, peering intently into her son's face for a reaction. His frown didn't abate, but she thought she saw his jaw tighten.
"Why did you invite them? You never have people over" said Henry after a few seconds, voice slightly accusing. That, thought Regina, is a very good question.
"Well, he did save you. It seemed like the natural thing to do. Moreover, I owed him dinner."
She saw the boy's eyes widen in surprise at that. Damn. She hadn't meant to let that slip.
"You already had dinner with him once? Who is this guy Robin and why are you spending time with him and his son?… Hang on, Robin? What's his last name?"
Regina tensed at the flow of questions which she really did not want to answer. Turning to the sink to clean out her coffee mug, she whispered the only answer of which she was certain, knowing it would distract the eleven year old enough to make him forget the others.
"His full name is Robin Hood."
She was not disappointed. Henry's fork fell on the kitchen counter with a loud "plonk" as he exclaimed:
"Robin HOOD! He…he's here? And he's coming to dinner?! Wait, how come his name didn't change?"
Yes, Regina thought, her back still turned, next time she casts a Dark Curse she would make sure that every single person got a new identity, a new personality, hell, even a new face if it would prevent her from coping with conversations as ludicrous as this one.
"Henry, because his parents had the bad taste of calling him 'Robin' doesn't mean that he is a fairy tale character, even if he does live in the forest and spends large amounts of time shooting a bow. Now", she said turning to him and wiping her hands on a tea towel, "I expect you to be on your best behaviour tonight. I want you to be nice and play with Roland. He is a very young and sweet boy and you will make sure he has a good evening. Do I make myself clear?"
He held her gaze with something like defiance in his face before lowering his eyes and mumbling a disgruntled "yeah, sure, whatever."
"Good. Now hurry up and finish your breakfast, you are going to be late for school." She left the kitchen, leaving her son with whirling thoughts and puzzlement as to why his mother had a slight blush on the back of her neck.
Regina stopped pacing and pressed her forehead against the blessedly cool glass panel of the window. She didn't like feeling out of control, and everything seemed to be slipping from between her fingers when it came to the thief and his son. He had seen far too much of her already, first at the park when he had caught her laughing openly –something she had not done in years- and secondly when he had seen her at the mine, a pathetic mess of nerves, tears and pain. That had to end she thought, unconsciously straightening her back. It was time for the mayor to make a full comeback. She would be cook dinner, make polite conversation and then send him away, out of her home and out of her life.
Relieved at having drawn up what could only be called a battle plan, Regina tore herself from the window and sat back down at her desk, pulling to her the pile of work she had been unable to focus on all morning.
The sound of the doorbell pierced through the silence that reigned in the mansion. Even though she had been checking the time for the past fifteen minutes, Regina looked at her watch one last time, noticing that it was precisely seven o'clock. Turns out the thief did know the meaning of the word punctuality.
Stopping before the door, Regina took a deep breath, smoothing out her dress, trying not to think about the fact that her closet looked like a bombshell had exploded in its midst, or that she had spent far more than her usual amount of time choosing how do to her hair. Schooling her features into the mayoral mask she knew so well, she turned the door handle.
"Robin, Roland, welcome."
"Gina!" the little boy shrieked, rushing in to give her a big hug around the knees before she bent down to kiss him on the cheek. Her hand still resting on the child's head, she looked at his father. She had to admit he cut quite the dashing figure in his pair of dark jeans and black shirt. Robin smiled brightly, handing her a bouquet of wild flowers.
"Good evening Madam Mayor. These are for you. I know you are probably used to bunches of roses or lilies, so I thought your house could do with something less… classical."
Regina took in the array of wild flowers he had given her, surprised to find them to be arranged in quite a pleasing manner, the colour pattern going from a deep red in the middle to a gentle hue of orange on the outsides. She was tired of her usual floral arrangement and found this one more than suitable. Not that she would tell him that.
"Really? Isn't more likely that these flowers were your only option as you had run out of time to find any other?"
"Oh no," quipped in Roland before his father could answer. "We had loads of time, Papa made us walk around the block three times before he let me ring the bell. He said it was a game, but I don't understand why it was funny." He finished with a slight frown on his face, truly confused about why his father had insisted they wait before walking up to the mansion.
Robin stifled a groan. They had arrived with far too much time to spare and he had had to come up with something to keep his boy occupied. If he had hoped to wipe off the smirk on the mayor's face by arriving right on time, he had failed miserably as it was back on her face in all of its splendour. He couldn't complain: she was truly stunning tonight wearing a burgundy coloured dress which stopped just above her knees and her usual killer heels, her hair style into loose curls which framed her face. As she turned around to walk them into the house, he saw that the dress' zipper ran from her shoulder blades to the hem of the skirt, causing more than a few inappropriate images to flash through his mind. He mentally kicked himself, plastering on a smile as the brunette introduced him–formally this time- to her son.
Dinner was pleasant, although slightly surprising. Robin had wondered how the woman would act, considering the state he had seen her on the previous day, hoping that she wouldn't hide herself behind what he started to suspect to be hundred feet high walls, pits filled with pikes and a rain of arrows. Sadly, this seemed to be the case. She asked him about his work, discussed the various projects concerning the rebuilding of the mine –she even seemed interested about what he had to say on the topic. He could see that she was a very intelligent woman who knew what she wanted and genuinely cared about the town she ruled, but every time he tried to broach a more intimate topic she would expertly steer the conversation in another direction, preventing him from seeing more of the woman he had seen at the mine and, he suspected, had seen on their very first meeting.
Henry was proving to be an interesting boy despite Robin's apprehensions after what he had seen the previous day. Throughout dinner he had been pestered with questions concerning his life in the woods and, more importantly, about his shooting abilities, Henry going so far as to ask if he would be willing to give him archery lessons. Robin had glanced at the brunette and though her face remained expressionless he saw her shoulder take on a new rigidity. He told Henry that he normally didn't give lessons, but they could always discuss things further, if that was alright with his mother. The mayor relaxed again and shot a grateful towards Robin, causing him to mentally pat himself on the shoulder.
Robin was also happy to see that Henry, albeit slightly cold to Roland at the start of the meal, had gradually warmed up to the little boy once they had discovered their common love for comic books. He did notice how the eleven year old watched intently each time his mother talked to Roland, and wondered what the story was there.
Once all the dish of the best lasagne he had ever tasted had been cleared, Robin looked pointedly at Roland, suppressing a chuckle at his tomato covered cheeks, his eyes indicating Regina as she got up to start clearing the table. The child quickly caught on and said:
"Thank you for supper Gina! It was really really really good!" Then, turning to Henry he added, "You're so lucky your mom cooks so good, my papa doesn't make food as nice as she does!"
Robin was about to interject an indignant 'hey!' at the slight thrown towards his cooking abilities when he heard an angry retort.
"She's not mom."
Silence fell on the dining room. Robin saw Regina's knuckles tighten around the pile of plates she was holding until they turned white. Looking up at her face, he noticed the force with which she clenched her jaw and how tense the skin around her eyes seemed to be. Her eyes… He saw the pain swirling in their depths, and he couldn't stand it. Against his better judgement to get involved in a situation that was none of his business, despite knowing he was not the boy's father, he opened his mouth to tell Henry he needed to apologise, only to be once more interrupted, this time by a small confused voice.
"She's not your mother?" Roland's face was scrunched up in utter bewilderment, unable to comprehend the tension that had suddenly filled the room. Robin was surprised to hear Regina answer him, but then he shouldn't have been: up to now, when had she ever disappointed his son?
"It's nothing Roland, only a game Henry and I play. Now, darling," she said as she turned away to walk into the kitchen, still clutching the stack of plates as her voice took on a forced joviality, "why don't you take Roland to see your room? I'm sure he would love to have a look at your collection of comics."
"Yeah!" cried Roland, all anxiety and confusion forgotten in the prospect of spending time with his new found friend while peering into the lives of superheroes.
Once the two boys left the room to go upstairs, Roland running up the steps while Henry followed in a less precipitated fashion, Robin pondered on what to do. He could follow the children and spend some time with them –that had clearly been what the mayor wanted him to do, he could tell by her body language- or he could face whatever was currently hiding in the kitchen. Just like his son, he wasn't exactly sure at what had taken place before his eyes. He knew that Henry had been adopted and that he had gone to Boston to fetch his birth mother –hell, that was basically all the town had talked about in the past few months. Well, that and the frequent fights that occurred between both mothers. He understood the impulse a child could feel to find out more about his origins, but he was bewildered at the hostility the boy was throwing at his adoptive mother. From what he had seen, she deeply loved her son, and if the house was anything to go by Henry did not lack for comfort. True, the mayor was a cold persona, but Robin was starting to see that there was far more to the brunette woman than her title, and he had seen how she acted with Roland: he couldn't believe she had ever been less warm or loving towards her own child.
With a sigh, he got up from his chair and walked into the kitchen, stopping at the doorway and leaning against the frame, studying the woman who had her back turned to him. She was vigorously scrubbing the lasagne dish, exuding so much anger that Robin half thought about leaving when she suddenly let everything fall back into the water as she grabbed the edge of the sink with her two hands. He heard her sigh heavily, her breath slightly ragged as if she were trying to compose herself, all the while suppressing tears. Robin knew he couldn't keep quiet anymore and chose to ignore the fact that she was going to hate him for seeing her like this –again- or that she visibly went rigid when he started to speak.
"I don't know anything about your relationship with your son, Regina," he tried not to gulp when he realised it was the first time he had addressed her by her given name instead of her title. In any other circumstance, there was no doubt in his mind that she would be biting his head off with more than one acid remark for the liberty he was taking. "But I do know that it is normal for children to play up. I'm guessing he had a hard time discovering he was adopted and now he is taking it all out on you. It isn't fair, but you have to believe it will pass. You are his mother, and a damn good one at that. I've seen you with Roland, and he adores you. It's only a matter of time until Henry comes to his senses."
He let silence engulf them, and Regina didn't move. As the seconds ticked by, Robin couldn't help but start shuffling uncomfortably from foot to foot, wondering if he had blown everything and if he was going to get kicked out of the house. Feeling the tension was going to kill him, he moved into the kitchen, spying a shelf on the left of the mayor's head which contained crystal glasses.
"Now," he said, loudly clearing his throat, "I don't know about you but I would really like a drink right now. You have excellent taste in red wine, but I would fancy something slightly stronger if you don't mind. I've heard that you make the best apple cider in the whole of Maine, would you mind giving me a taste?"
Robin was aware that he was rambling but he was unable to stop as he reached an arm behind Regina to take the glasses, that is until she turned around and was suddenly flush against him, causing his words to die in his throat.
Both remained completely still as they gazed into each other's eyes, much like they had the day before. Electricity filled every inch of the room as their bodies pressed into each other, the air ripe with anticipation. Robin saw brown eyes, somewhat red rimmed, turn gradually darker until they became almost black, pupils shinning up at him, flashes of surprise, fear and what could only be described a hunger swirling together until he thought he would get lost in them. His gaze started to flicker to her lips and that all too enticing scar, and he was inching down towards her, he could feel her warm breath against his skin, he was…
"Robin! Roland has fallen asleep while I read him a comic."
Henry's yell was like a cold shower. Both jumped apart, startle at the sound and, most of all, at what had almost taken place. Robin saw shock painted all over the brunette's face, an expression he surely shared, until she slammed the mayor's mask back into place, her features as unperturbed as usual if one didn't pay attention to the dilated pupils or pulsating vein on her temple.
"I should…hem… get him, we should go, hem, home." Robin stammered, mentally castigating himself for acting like a fifteen year old.
"You should" Regina replied, refusing to meet his eye.
The goodbyes were awkward, to say the least, and Robin was grateful for the presence of Roland in his arms for it gave him the perfect excuse to quickly leave the mansion's imposing porch, avoiding what could only have been a painful game of should-we-or-should-we-not-shake-hands. After all, his hands were tingling already, and that had all to do with his son's weight and nothing to do with the fact that not five minutes previously, they were sitting on the mayor's hips.