After Thanksgiving, nothing with Robin feels the same. She drops the kids off with him on Saturday, and he's got plans to go to a movie and lunch with them, but doesn't invite Regina to come along. In fact he doesn't really invite her in during the drop off like he usually does (she comes in anyway and he doesn't protest, either, but he's not as warm and welcoming as he once was).

When she asks if he wants to see the kids on Sunday he says he's still feeling a bit off, and that he'd rather they spend their time with her and David.

And that is very unlike Robin.

And then there is the missed phone call. Over the last few weeks he's fallen into a routine with Regina. He calls her at the office, nearly every work day right around lunch.

In the beginning the calls were centered around the visitation schedule for his sons, or checking in to see how a particular issue with Henry's school went, or asking if Roland still had that worrisome cough.

But after sometime they started being catch up phone calls, time to talk about their day, the weather, some random memory Robin just thought of, some random suggestion Regina has for Robin.

It's casual and not a planned event at all, not supposed to be expected but she cherishes these moments of her day, has scheduled her calendar completely around them.

So when Robin doesn't call by 12:30 on Monday, she breaks down and calls him.

He doesn't answer.

She leaves a quick voicemail about how she wants to talk to him about Henry's indoor soccer league schedule, but it's a pitiful excuse, and Robin knows it. He doesn't respond until hours later in text form, just a quick message to thank her for letting him know that he has a new team, and that he will be there for every game and practice he can get himself to. He mentions looking for a job, and that he will be a bit busier now.

It makes no sense. She highly doubts he's fit to find a fulltime job so shortly after returning, and it seems unlikely he'd pick up a job for anything other than retail until the New Year.

It sounds like a flimsy excuse, and she worries until she sees him two days later.

He's polite. Friendly, but distant.

This distance grows the next week, and so does her misery.

She can't sleep, can't stop worrying about him. She confides in David of all people, that she's worried about Robin.

"We don't know what is going on," David tries to soothe, "it could be he's just trying to adjust to the new normal. He's been spending a lot of time with you and the kids, but he has to eventually find a place of his own, right? So maybe he's taking time to figure that out."

But she finds she doesn't want him to figure it out. She wants him with her, and it's selfish and unfair to ask of him so she will bite her lip quietly and say nothing, but she really just wants him to be a semi-daily part of her life. She wants to hear from him nearly every day, see him for all the important moments in their lives.

It's hard — realizing he can't be. No one else besides her children and David hold that.

But she's not quite ready to accept this.

She approaches David first. Robin and Regina haven't discussed it, but she's sure he'd let her have the children for both the Eve and the day if she asked, but well, is that fair? He's their father and he's missed so many Christmases it seems only fair they offer him this one.

Except… they won't miss out on Christmas with the children if they invite him here, will they?

David is an easy sell, says Robin is always welcome at any holiday she wants to invite him to.

She probably shouldn't be trying to find a way to get him here for Christmas, but well, the thought of spending another Christmas without Robin — particularly when he's so close, is more than she can bear to think about.

Christmas is special because Robin loves it. Or loved. She has no idea how he feels about it now, but before he left on that damned trip, he was incredibly taken with every last corny holiday tradition. He was ugly sweaters and mall store Santas, plastic reindeer and rainbow colored Christmas lights, insisting they fully embrace the holiday "for Henry's sake".

So armed with those memories, she approaches him when dropping the kids off on Friday.

It's perfect, because Rose is back for the weekend, and she's going to extend the same invitation to her.

But when Robin answers the door and lets the boys in without saying a word to her, she starts to lose her nerve.

"Hey," she says cautiously, stepping off the porch into the hallway. She hears the sound of the Lego video game the kids love already on in the background, Rose's voice lifting over it to tell them they can't play that game until they give their grandmother a hug . She smiles at that, shooting him a knowing glance about Rose and her alleged "discipline".

"Hello, Regina." His smile in return doesn't quite meet his eyes, doesn't sound quite as eager as she does. "What do you have there?" he points to the brown box in her hands.

"Christmas decorations. Ornaments that belong to you, things I knew were your favorites…" she trails off when she sees his face go sour momentarily. Shit.

"You should keep them. I think they are better… together. Part of a set, you know?"

She sets the box on the hallway table and fishes out a handmade ornament with Henry's handprint, decorated with colored toothpicks with the words World's Best Daddy underneath.

"This belongs to you. And it will be part of a set, because I can tell you that Roland is making you something similar for Christmas this year."

That seems to soften Robin a bit, he takes the ornament, chuckles and nods.

"I guess I'll have to put up a tree after all," he grins.

"You weren't going to put up a tree?" Regina can't fight the look of absolute horror on her face. "But you love Christmas!"

He's looking at her more honestly now, hands in his pockets as he leans against the front door. "It's… complicated."

It's a sad moment, but it's also more connected than she's felt with him since Thanksgiving.

"I'm sure the holidays away were not… holidays." she mutters, then shakes her head. "I mean, I don't know what it was like then, I figured Christmas wasn't celebrated at all and at least you'd have no bad memories but—"

"I understand," Robin says, nodding his head. "And I don't want to talk about it, if that's okay." She squeezes his hand in answer, and then he continues. "Anyway, I figured the children would spend Christmas with you and David, and I'd have little use for a tree all to myself."

"I wanted to talk to you about that…" Regina tucks a stubborn strand of hair behind her ear. "The kids want to see you for Christmas. They want to open presents with you, want you to see everything they got from Santa, and I'd like to see you, too. Christmas without you was…" No, she's not allowed to do this. She's not allowed to tell him that she misses him, that she was miserable without him. Not when she has David.

"It'd be nice to have you there. And to see Roland and Henry all excited for Santa…" A low blow to use the children like this, but she is desperate.

Robin winces. "I had already planned on spending Christmas in Connecticut..."

"Well, I don't know why you'd be celebrating in Connecticut while Roger and I are going to be celebrating Christmas right here with your family," Rose scoffs, walking into the hallway.

Regina feels her heart swell yet again for Rose. Bless that woman.

"I—you're going to Regina's for Christmas?" he asks.

She shrugs. "And Christmas Eve. I have a standing invitation every year, what else would I do? Go down to visit Roger's sister in Florida? No, absolutely not."

Robin still looks conflicted, seems to be teetering with the idea. And finally he seems to concede, asking one more time, "You sure I won't be imposing?"

Rose smacks him playfully upside the head and Regina shakes her head. "We want you there."

So he bites his lip and nods, and asks what he should bring to dinner.

.::.

The moment Regina leaves, Robin regrets agreeing to yet another joint holiday.

It had just been so hard to say no to her. He loves her too much.

He knows he tried to conceal the misery of seeing them together at Thanksgiving, but she had to know something was up. And she's asked this of him anyway.

It's selfish. And painful for him.

His mother on the other hand, seems happier than she has in weeks. She's humming as she starts dinner, looking positively pleased with herself.

"I wish you wouldn't have done that," he mutters to his mom.

"Done what? Accepted your lovely wife's invitation to Christmas?"

" Ex- wife," he corrects. "And Thanksgiving was awful enough, and now I have to go through it at Christmas?"

Rose frowns, and sighs. "I didn't realize it was awful. It seemed quite lovely from where I was standing. The boys were falling all over you, Regina was happier than I've seen her, I'm sure that had something to do with the fact that she spent the bulk of her time with you or talking about you… and until you ran out, you looked quite cheery too."

"I didn't run out." He scowls. She's going to make him say it, isn't she? "Mum, it's not easy to see her with him. And I know I have to but I just don't need to sit through an entire holiday seeing how cozy they are together."

"Did we even go to the same Thanksgiving?" Rose asks, surprise. "Cozy? Robin those two are—"

"Engaged. Those two are engaged." Robin is furious. What is wrong with his mother and her deluded fantasies?

"She wanted you there for Christmas. She was prepared to beg. I could see it in her eyes."

"To alleviate her own guilt," he reminds her, "or maybe because she genuinely cares about me, but she's not asking for her benefit. And if she was, it would be selfish. It's not fair. I see her and I want to throw my arms around her, but I can't, because she's David's. So I have to sit there, wanting to be with her, trying not to feel envious and angry and miserable, and the kids don't need that. They don't deserve it."

"The children deserve to see their father on Christmas. They've had enough Christmases without you. And I've been giving you time, because Lord knows you've been through more than most could handle in a lifetime, but it's time you leave all those hurt feelings aside and start doing what's best for the boys. They want to see their father for Christmas. So I don't blame Regina for asking you, because when your child hands you a Christmas wish list for Santa that says "Please bring daddy back" it really hurts. And Regina has had to suffer that. More than once."

He can't argue with her. So he doesn't. He just helps her with dinner, and puts the argument aside for now.

But days later, Regina is still… being Regina. She's being flirty, and comforting, and wonderful. And gorgeous, she's gorgeous, and his libido is very much back in full force, and he wants her, all the time. It's been five years, very nearly, and he really needs to feel her.

He tells himself he needs to push her away, to tell her she can't keep calling, can't linger at every pickup and drop off, but every time he starts to have the conversation with her, he can't get the words out.

Because really, the last thing he wants is her further away from him, unhealthy as it may be to let her stick around. As much as it hurts to see her with someone else, he wonders if it would hurt more to not see her at all.

Still, they can't keep doing this to one another.

Regina's never going to let him go, she's always going to feel obligated to him, and he's never going to get over her if she's always there, coddling him.

He has to do something to get her to let him go. For her to let the past stay in the past, to keep her from saying things that keep inspiring hope in him, then crushing it the next time she mentions David.

.::.

The world seems much lighter now that Regina knows she will see Robin on Christmas.

He's still a bit cold towards her, and she supposes that's residual Thanksgiving awkwardness. But they will figure it out. Work out whatever kinks there are and make it so they can be around one another, so she can see him comfortably alive, feel him, warm and solid and next to her.

For now she tries not to push too hard, to give him a bit of space, but to keep letting him know she cares, that he matters to her. She doesn't call everyday anymore, but she sends texts, little notes of memories she had of their lives together, a picture of an amazing meal she had a place he might like, a message about the Christmas festivities in Philadelphia this year and what the boys want to see. He usually responds via text, but positively so, until one day he calls her to discuss Christmas gifts.

"I figured this might be a bit complicated of a discussion," he explains, "it's my first Christmas back and I'd like to spoil them terribly. I have four Christmases' worth of presents to get."

"Actually you don't. We always got a present and marked it From Daddy every year. It was part of Santa's magic. You… should probably have known that earlier. Henry… I think he knows about Santa by now, but he's holding on for one more year. Roland fully believes and is very curious about the entire thing."

"Oh, I know. I've been asked about the specifics of Santa's sleigh and the age of all his reindeer. He's a thoughtful little guy."

"Mhm," she chuckles. "And I'm betting he's mentioned at least half a dozen things he wants for Christmas. What were you thinking of getting?"

It's all strictly gift discussion after that, but it somehow gets comfortable, and then he's making her laugh when he gives his opinions on some of the more odd gifts he's come across . "Why would anyone want a pillow designed to look like a cartoon piece of poo?" he asks, baffled.

"As long as it doesn't involve PJ Masks , I am not going to argue," she sighs.

"Oh, please don't bring that fucking show up," Robin groans. "They must get their TV taste from their mother."

"Hey!" she says defensively, "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You may have thought you deleted all the evidence, but I've caught you more than once watching bad reality TV," he chuckles. "Dance Moms, The Bachelor, and I'm sure there were others."

She laughs, more out of shock than embarrassment. She hadn't really been hiding her guilty pleasure shows, but she certainly hadn't been discussing it with him. "Why didn't you tease me about this years ago?"

"Eh, if I teased you, you would have stopped watching, and I loved you too much to deny you your fun." He says easily.

It's actually rather thoughtful. And, well, accurate. "You know me well," she muses.

"Mm, I really do…" he says, and it sounds flirtatious, almost like they are back to some sort of normal.

It emboldens her just enough to ask him to the Christmas Village at LOVE park. "Like we used to with Henry? I still take them every year. It's really cute, and a great memory. I was thinking of taking them on Friday?"

There's an awkward silence, and she knows something is wrong before he says it.

"Err… that might not be a good night for me," he says slowly.

"Oh, are you getting together with the guys? I could have sworn John told me he'd be at the park—"

"No, not with the guys…" Her heart is beating so fast she feels it in her eardrums, and then he lets it drop. "I uhh, actually, I have a date."

It's the ugly, seething kind of jealousy that rises inside her. The I can't have him, but no one else gets to, either kind. She hates herself for it.

And it's terribly unfair that she wants to scream and ask him how the hell he's ready to start dating this soon. She's with David and has no right to be anything but happy for him.

"Oh." She says, "Is it… someone I know?"

"It's a friend of Ana's." He says simply. "Will set me up."

She swallows heavy and asks, "First date, or—"

"Third. If you count the quick coffee we had with Will and Ana when we first met."

" So… you must really like her."

She's not really sure what else she can say, but she's still shocked and upset.

"It's new," Robin explained. "We only met two weeks ago." There's another long pause and then he adds, "I like what I know of her."

"Good," Regina struggles to say, "that, that's nice for you. I'm glad you found someone."

She's glad this came up over the phone, at least. She's always been good at keeping her voice steady, and it's not like he can see her tears.

She can't help but add, "I didn't realize you were ready for… that."

She must be really transparent, because he answers her defensively with a, "Well, I just thought I ought to try finding someone that makes me as happy as David makes you."

"Does she?" Regina asks with a heavy swallow. "Make you happy, I mean."

Robin scoffs and reminds her. "Regina, it's a third date."

"Right…" Regina says cautiously, trying not to think of her third date with Robin, because she was already head over heels for him by then and letting him give her orgasm after orgasm. She's not going to make it through the rest of this conversation before breaking down, so she hits the second line button on her office phone. It beeps, gives the appearance of call waiting, and that's what she needs right now. "Shit, sorry, Robin, I have to go - that's uhhh - one of my more important clients."

"Sounds good. You're dropping off the kids tomorrow?"

"Yes," she croaks out, "Yes, I'll drop them off."

And then he hangs up, just in time to miss hearing the sob she can no longer contain.

.::.

She's in a miserable mood for the rest of the day, and it carries on into the night. She's short tempered with the kids, too distracted to concentrate on dinner and badly overcooks the pork tenderloin. And she's been scowling anytime someone tries to talk to her.

Needless to say, her change in mood is obvious to David.

And he's so wonderful, asking her if he can do anything, if she needs anything. But she doesn't. Not really, except for Robin to not fall in love with this new woman, but that's not really something she can tell her fiancé she needs, is it?

"Talk to me," David implores, desperately. "Just let me know what's going on."

"It's nothing," Regina insists, "I'm just having an off day. They happen."

"Regina…" he sighs and rubs his temples. "You know, every year around this time you miss him the most, and we talk about it, and—"

"But I don't miss him anymore!" she all but yells back. "I don't miss him because he's alive, and here. So that's not it, okay?"

"Then what is it?" he presses, "because you practically skipped off to work today, you've been incredibly happy for the past week, and you've been on edge since you got home. Is it something at work?" He pauses, as if reading the answer and tries again. "Did your mother try to contact you again?" Cora had attempted to reach her after Robin was found, she's sure the national news coverage provoked Cora to finally care (probably wanted a taste of the spotlight) but Regina had left her calls unanswered. David looks at her, shakes his head, and concludes. "So it's something with Robin, then."

"It's nothing with Robin!" Regina lies. And that just pisses David off more.

"Talk to me about it, for fuck's sake! You're still my fiancé, even if you won't touch me, you won't tell me you love me, you won't fuck me, but you at least used to confide in me, and if you can't do this…"

Fuck.

She's really fucked up.

She opens her mouth to apologize but he does first, sinking to the couch with his head in his hands. "I'm sorry. You're going through a hard time, and I'm being—"

"Perfect." she finishes for him. "You're being perfect, and I'm being selfish."

"I'm being far from perfect," David mutters.

"You're giving me all the space I need, you're letting me… see my ex as long and as often as I like, and I'm sure that makes you feel—"

"It doesn't make me feel the way you think," David admits. "Regina, I love you, and Henry and Roland, I do. I love you guys, but…" he trails off, his eyes darting towards the rug. "So much of our relationship after Robin and Kathryn left was about comforting one another, being there for one another. And then I got over Kathryn, but you never really got over Robin, did you?"

She can't argue with that, but it hurts too much to admit it. Still, she shoots him a sympathetic look, and he takes it as what it is meant to be — an unspoken admission.

"I didn't mind, because what we had felt so… important. We had one another, I had a family, I had a beautiful woman I loved beside me, a strong woman that I knew needed me in a way, and it made me feel so good. I love you, I do, but you know that spark, that passion you feel… I just, I never felt it, and I'm so sorry, I—"

"I didn't feel it either." Her eyes are wet and red, but there's relief in her tears. It's been such a struggle, trying to hide this from him, from her boys, from herself.

"But it still felt good." David acknowledges, and Regina nods. "It still felt right… at the time. And I didn't want it to end, so I proposed. I don't think I even knew something was missing until Robin came back and you withdrew from me… and I kept thinking I should be more upset, I should be jealous, I should want you around more. I kept trying to reconnect to you, kept thinking I could get my mind back to where it was, but it wasn't working. For either of us. And I'm sure you felt guilty and worried about me, and I'm sorry. I was too much of a coward to admit I didn't feel what I should, in that situation."

It dawns on her then, the all-too-understanding manner in which David has let her go and spend time as she pleases with Robin, the fact that he hasn't complained much about her sleeping in the guest room lately…

"When did you know for sure that it wasn't working?" Regina asks, going back over every interaction they had, trying to find The Moment. But she's been so self-absorbed she hasn't really paid enough attention to David.

Now he looks utterly miserable, and avoids looking her in the eyes. "It happened… oh god, Regina I'm so sorry. It happened when… when I started having feelings for someone else."

Well, that's a shock.

She should be absolutely devastated, heartbroken, betrayed. But she just feels happy for him. Relieved.

A smile spreads on her face, and she wipes her tears and she slides next to David on the couch. "Who?" she asks, her hand softly on his knee.

He looks up at her, at the way she's smiling, and his expression shifts into something a bit less miserable.

"You're not upset? I know—"

"I'm not upset, David. And I should be, or should have been if we were in love like that. But we aren't. You're right. I haven't even discussed a wedding, or our future marriage, in months. I couldn't picture myself being married to you and that made me feel so, so guilty. So I'm not upset. You're my best friend, and I'm happy for you."

He looms so relieved, gathers each of her hands in his own and gives it a squeeze. "I do love you, and the kids. I really do, and the thought of not seeing them anymore—"

"That's not going to happen." Regina interrupts. "They love their Uncle David."

He laughs, and shakes his head. "We never did get around to teaching them to just call me David. I think in some ways, we always knew."

"Probably," Regina gives. "Now tell me who you have feelings for."

"We haven't done anything," he says too quickly, which makes her raise an eyebrow. "It's Mary Margaret," he groans, settling his head in his hands again.

The neighbor? Shy, goodie-two-shoes little Mary Margaret, who always has some charity she's baking cookies to support, who still visibly winces when curse words are used. Fuck. Regina didn't think she had it in her.

"Mary Margaret, really?"

"She always wants to help. You know she's offered her support since Robin returned, so while you were with him she'd come by sometimes, and we'd talk, or just watch television, and it was… nice. And then Thanksgiving happened and I was so happy... and I realized it was partly because of her. I felt more for her than I should."

"Does she feel the same?" Regina asks. David shrugs at first, says he doesn't know, but then quickly amends, "I think so. There was a… moment. Felt like we might, like we both wanted to… anyway there was a moment, and she got flustered and ran off." David looks up at her apologetically. "I was waiting for you to end things, and that was wrong. This isn't on you, it's on me."

"It's on both of us," Regina assures. "I've been lying to myself about this whole thing for a while now."

"So, what do you want to do?" David asks, "The next step, I want to make it together. We've made every step in this relationship as a team, I feel it's only fair we end it the same way."

God, she loves him. She smiles and nods, and it's wonderful to finally feel so light and free — trying to make herself fit into this relationship has been strangling her and she hadn't even realized it.

"It will be hard on the kids," Regina admits, "and we will need to find a new place to live. I think… let's give them a nice Christmas and New Year's, and then we will break it to them… if you are fine with waiting, that is."

He nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. It doesn't feel romantic, it feels… brotherly, almost. It's amazing how quickly things have shifted back into the realm of platonic. "That's what I was hoping you'd say. I'd love one last Christmas with you all."

"It won't be the last," Regina says firmly. "I'm sure I'll be seeing you for the holidays for years to come."

David smiles then, and presses a kiss into her hair. "Thank you for being so… you. But are you sure you want to wait until after the holidays, yourself?"

"Of course," she frowns and tilts her head in curiosity, "what do you mean?"

"You're still in love with him." David says simply, and oh.

Regina scoffs and starts stacking the coasters on the coffee table. "That may be, but it's complicated. He told me he's been dating."

David scoffs. "So? You are his wife."

But he doesn't understand, so she elaborates. "Right now, I'm his ex-wife. And he is actually going on a third date with some woman tomorrow night. That's why I was so upset, by the way. I didn't tell you because I knew how unfair it was."

David shakes his head and tells her it's nothing, that he's glad she finally told him. "I wouldn't give up on him if I were you. I know he loves you."

Regina frowns. "I'm sure he does, in a way. But I really hurt him. And pain like that can do permanent damage. Plus, it's not like him to lead a woman on. He wouldn't date if he was still hung up on us. So… I don't think it's something I want to discuss. Not until after New Year's."

David nods, then kisses her on the forehead, and tells her that he hopes she finds happiness.

They sleep together that night, sharing a bed as friends, not lovers.

Regina sheds a few tears, in gratitude for what this man has meant to her over these past five years, over how much she will miss his companionship, over how much she cares or him, and wishes she could give him the world. But not once does she wish he would stay, does she wish she could save this relationship. Ending it is right. It hurts, in a way, but not as much as the pain of trying to fit together when they simply did not.