Panic set in, followed by confusion, then wonder, and back to panic again in quick succession. Unless Rumplestiltskin knew something she didn't, there was no possible way that Cora could be standing before her right now. And yet, there she was, hands folded casually together, her smile treacherously innocent.

Regina remembered Cora's face when she'd last seen her, as though for the first time, with her heart finally in its rightful place—the love, the fascination, the profound joy—and she wished desperately now that that could have been the last memory she ever had of her mother.

Not this.

"Wait just a minute," a voice was saying behind her, and Regina groaned inwardly. Perfect. Will had followed them into the tavern. Yet another helpless person she would need to protect from her mother. At least Jacqueline had had the good sense to make herself scarce.

"Bloody hell," Will gasped.

"Now's really not a good time," Regina reprimanded him under her breath.

But he wasn't even looking at Cora; he was looking at her. More specifically, at the stupid crown that was still in her hair.

"Did you steal that from the Queen?" he exclaimed, looking beyond impressed. "So that's where you'd gone off to…her majesty's bedchambers!"

Yes, you idiot, she wanted to say. But, again—not the time.

"Interesting company you're keeping these days," Cora commented, regarding Will and Tinker Bell with the same level of affection she'd bestow upon a pair of flies.

"Leave them out of this." Regina stepped forward, praying they would have the good sense to stay back this time.

"Regina—" Tinker Bell said in warning, but Regina cut her off with a wave of her hand.

"I'll take care of this," she said forcefully, and Cora had the indecency to look amused.

"Well, well," and she clapped her hands together in a show of delight, "this is certainly a new side of you I haven't seen."

"Enough," Regina growled. Her relationship with her mother could be described as many things, but 'patient' was not one of them. "What is it that you want, mother?"

Cora smiled at that. "Dear child. Is that really what you wanted to ask me? Or is the more appropriate question what you want…and do I have it?"

"What have you done to him?" Regina asked murderously, fists clenched at her sides.

"Oh my sweet, sweet daughter. Who says I've done anything? You see…the marvelous thing about thieves is, their hearts are so easily bought by gold."

"And what would you know about having a heart?"

Cora chuckled. "True," she admitted, "but I never said his was still intact."

Regina sucked in a breath, but it was like inhaling shards of ice, and they impaled her lungs from the inside out.

Cora shrugged, brushed some imaginary lint off her cloaked shoulder. "One can sympathize."

Regina shook her head. "I don't believe you," she spat out.

"Well that hardly makes a difference. You don't see him here, do you?" A leisurely laugh as she gestured about the room. "Honestly, Regina. The silly little ideas you get in your head sometimes. A thief, in love with a Queen?" Her face hardened. "It's almost comical, this blind faith you put in people who will abandon you the moment you've given them what they need. You were his ticket into the palace; nothing more."

"Queen?" Will was rubbing a hand over his chin, looking frustratingly clueless. "What's she going on about?"

Regina ignored him. "No." She shook her head. "He would never do that to me."

Cora's shoulders lifted in a long-suffering sigh. "Darling, I am the only one you can count on. I am the only one who has your best interests at heart." And she punctuated each statement by taking another step closer. "You shoved me through a mirror and sent me to another realm, yet here I am, and all I want—all I have ever wanted—is to protect you."

"Lucky me," Regina said darkly.

"I am the only constant in your life," Cora said with such well-calculated sincerity that it would have fooled her—had fooled her—when she was younger. But the years of loss and heartache had taught her better than to believe. "In the grand scheme of things, this man means nothing."

"You're wrong, mother."

"Am I?" Cora sighed, but then her smile spread even wider. "I suppose we shall see. One of us will be proven right momentarily."

"Regina!"

She whipped around, heart in her throat, and there he was, standing in the doorway, in one gloriously whole piece; the utter panic in his eyes, the breath he released as though he'd been holding it until he saw her again, told her that he was still in possession of his heart, that it beat on, boldly and flawlessly in his chest; and she knew, instinctively, that it belonged to her now.

And she had never been so happy, nor so devastated, to see him as she did in that instant.

He looked so relieved to find her there, nothing seemed more important at the moment than taking her straight into his arms—certainly not the strange woman standing off to the side, eyeing him with passive curiosity—and as he made to do so, Regina flung her arms out as though to shove him back.

"No!" she said frantically. "Stay away."

His brow furrowed in confusion as he took another step towards her.

"I mean it," she warned him lowly. "You don't want to be here right now."

"Oh but indeed I do," Robin retorted. "And I would've made it here sooner if Little John's stallion hadn't thrown a shoe on my way here from camp."

"That's too bad about that," interjected Will unnecessarily.

"Will?" Robin seemed to notice for the first time that his young charge was in their presence. "Thank God. Where were you?"

"Regina," Cora spoke up behind her, sounding like a disapproving hostess with uninvited houseguests. "You haven't introduced me to your new friend."

"You're right, he's nothing to me," Regina snarled, but it was too late, and the only thing her outburst accomplished was to exacerbate Robin's indignation.

"Regina, who is this woman?"

"Nobody you need to know," she pleaded. "Trust me. Please, just go."

"You know I'll do no such thing," he told her angrily. "I just went through hell to find you. I don't intend to lose you again. One time was more than enough."

Cora was laughing outright now. "First a stable boy, and now a thief. You're developing quite the track record."

"He's not just a thief, mother," and she felt Robin start beside her in response, wondered if he could see it now, the jawline she'd inherited, the plump red lips, the expressive brown eyes, filled with fire, and with rage.

"Oh no, my dear, of course not; you're right. He's the prince of thieves." Cora's voice was mocking. "Not exactly the sort of royalty I had in mind for you."

"Tell me something, mother," Regina said nastily, "what exactly did you have in mind for my sister?"

Cora's face faltered, froze, and it must have required an extreme effort not to take a visible step back. "How did you—" She interrogated Regina with her eyes, they grew colder, narrowed into deadly slits, then widened with sudden realization. "You're not from here," Cora breathed. "Who are you?" And all innocent pretenses fell, crumpled to a heap as she stalked forward, Regina grabbed Will and Tinker Bell by the arm and threw them forcibly towards the door, yelling, "Run!"

Cora's hand shot out and Regina felt her windpipe begin to collapse under an unseen force, she gasped for a breath that would not come, her feet lifting off the ground as a purple thread of magic dragged her up by the throat.

"Who are you?" Cora thundered, and the entire building shook. Regina heard screams in the far off distance, hoped that whoever was still left in the tavern would be able to escape before it collapsed on them all.

Then, to her dismay, Robin unleashed an arrow from his quiver, was aiming it directly where Cora's heart should have been. He had his sleeves rolled back, the muscles beneath his lion tattoo flexed with the tension in the bowstring.

"No," she gasped out to warn him. "Robin—"

Cora's laughter filled the turbulent air, expanded until it echoed off the ceiling and the walls. "How positively adorable," she said. "You think you can save her with your pointy little sticks?" And before Robin had a chance to react her other hand had extended outward and he made a horrible choking sound as he fells to his knees, his bow slipping from his grip.

"Robin!" Regina cried, and pure instinct released her hand from the invisible grip around her neck. White flames burst from her palm, blinding her to everything but the look of pure shock on Cora's face, as she flung them straight into her chest.

Cora flew up into the rafters like a ragdoll and dropped back to the ground with a deafening thud, her cloak draping down to rest over her body. Robin began to cough as Regina fell on her feet, and she was by his side an instant later, grabbing his shoulders, then his face, between her hands.

"Are you all right?" she breathed, and his arm encircled her waist in response, pulling her against him. He buried his face into her side and she threaded her fingers through his hair, pressed a kiss to his forehead.

Suddenly Cora's body shifted with a small groan, Regina was shoving Robin back in order to shield him while he attempted to do the same to her, when a voice issued from beneath the cloak, high-pitched, almost childlike, curious and full of mischief.

"Now I wonder where you picked up that neat little trick, dearie."

Regina went motionless.

Cora stood, brushing off dirt and bits of walnut shells, only it wasn't Cora any longer.

It was Rumplestiltskin.

"You missed another magic lesson," he admonished Regina with an exaggerated shake of his finger. "Or did you forget? Too busy making eyes at your new paramour, perhaps?"

"Magic?" Robin repeated, and it finally seemed to occur to him that Regina hadn't blasted her mother with some run-of-the-mill handheld flaming torch. And now he was looking at her as though—God, what was that in his eyes? Fear?

"I can explain," she started desperately but was interrupted by an obnoxious "ahem."

"So, as we've just established…youuuu're not from here," Rumplestiltskin trilled.

Regina stood and glared at him. "And just what do you think you were doing," she hissed, "pretending to be my mother? Trying to kill me, kill us?"

"Just having a bit of fun," Rumplestiltskin tsked at her. "Don't take it personally. Besides, one never knows what you're truly capable of, without a little bit of a—push."

She felt Robin tense beside her, shook her head in disbelief. "Are you really that…bored?"

Rumplestiltskin giggled. "Oh, quite the contrary. This whole experiment has been…most informative."

"And what were you trying to find out exactly?"

"Well," Rumplestiltskin began, "at first I was curious to see what kept you this time. Was it my…motivational speech, perhaps?"

"I would hardly call it that," Regina retorted. "Do you have any idea what kind of fate you sentenced me to?"

"Oh, no, dearie," he chided her, "that was all your doing. You see, it's called a self-fulfilling prophecy. I may tell you which path you're heading down, but you're the one who rrruns with it. Speaking of running—" He wiggled his fingers at Robin. "I thought you might have been trying to run from your fate, but now it looks like you've found a different one to run to altogether."

Regina followed his gaze. Robin was rubbing the back of his neck, still sore from Cora's chokehold, lion tattoo on full display. Startled, she turned back to Rumplestiltskin, who was steepling his fingers together in blatant glee. But how had he—

"How did I know?" Rumplestiltskin sniggered, as though he'd read her mind. "A question to be addressed another time, I'm afraid."

"So, what?" Regina asked. "You thought you'd stop by, try to mess this one up for me too?"

"You still don't get it, dearie," said Rumplestiltskin, a hint of malice behind the mirth now. "Nobody's messing up anything except—" an exaggerated upward flourish of his hand, a finger pointed in her direction "—yourself."

And the words hurt because they held more truth than she cared to admit.

"What would you know about it?" she snapped defensively.

"Oh, enough," Rumplestiltskin declared with an impish smile. "Forgive me, dearie, but that simmering rage of yours seems to have…fully erupted, since I last saw you. I'm rather impressed. So tell me—"

Regina's mouth tensed in a thin line.

"Where did you come from?"

She glanced hesitantly over at Robin, who opened his mouth to speak—words of encouragement or of something else, she didn't have the chance to find out, because she waited a second longer only to realize he'd stopped moving, as though his entire body had been frozen in place. She glared at Rumplestiltskin.

He grinned. "I thought we could use a bit of privacy. Juice?" He helped himself to an abandoned cup from the nearest table and took a whiff. Curling his nose, he tossed it over his shoulder and it landed on the ground with a splash and a clang. "Not juice," he said, sitting down, gesturing for Regina to do the same, which she did reluctantly.

"So what makes you think I'm not who I say I am?"

"Oh, I'm sure you are," Rumplestiltskin responded. "But there's more to it than that."

"And what makes you so sure?"

"Aside from the obvious, you mean." He paused but she only raised an eyebrow at him, which he seemed to find positively delightful. "First off," giggling again, "this sister you mentioned." He leaned in. "Never met her."

Well you will soon enough, Regina thought.

"And, no offense, dearie, but you're not that fast a learner." He cupped one hand over the other, swiveled them around until a small ball of purple flame ignited in his palm. "Nor have I ever seen your magic so…"

"Advanced?" she supplied.

"Colorful," he finished, and vanquished the flame with a fist.

She frowned. "You mean white."

"Exactly! It's the color of all colors combined. The hallmark of light magic," he said, in singsong. "Which is quite interesting, because I can tell the darkness has already done more than just taste you by now…you've tasted it too. Sweet, wasn't it?"

"Hardly," Regina scowled at him, "just bitter. So I spat it back out." I've seen what life has thrown at you, and you still fight against the darkness every single day. "I'm afraid you're the one who's been swallowed by it," she sneered.

Rumplestiltskin looked absolutely tickled by the thought, shivered pleasantly in his seat. "Must taste better than you do, then, dearie!"

Regina smiled tightly. "I can live with that."

"So where did you learn it? Certainly not from me."

Her smile turned ironic. "You and then some." Henry, she thought, and the reminder was like another invisible hand around her neck.

"So you're from the future?" he prodded.

"Not exactly," Regina frowned. "At least, I don't think so."

"Are all your memories still intact? Memories of where, and when, you came from?"

If only they weren't.

Marian? I thought you were dead. I thought I'd never see you again!

Mama?

You—you don't remember me.

Should I?

I killed your wife.

Regina. Wait, Regina! Regina, damn it, don't walk away from me again!

"Not from the future then," Rumplestiltskin concluded upon seeing Regina's face twist and darken, and he looked oddly pleased at having confirmed this bit of information. "Glad to hear it. Pesky people, these occasional errant time travelers. Always sticking their noses in where they don't belong, completely disregarding my indispensable advice."

Regina gave him a withering stare, please, do continue.

He switched gears then; she could practically hear the cogs taking calculated turns about the inner workings of his head. "And how did you get here?"

"Ask Tinker Bell," she muttered. "She poisoned me with pixie dust."

He cackled, "Now there's a bit of irony," which she didn't find as amusing.

She had the strange sense that even though he was the one asking her the questions, he still knew more about what was going on than she did.

Rumplestiltskin folded his hands together on the table now, stretched his shoulders back, looking like he was at professional business meeting all of a sudden. Regina sighed in exasperation before the words were even out of his crooked, glittering mouth. "In that case, I need a favor."

Of course.

Regina barked out a laugh. "I'm not doing anything for you."

"I'll strike you a bargain, then."

"I don't make deals with you anymore, either."

"Are you sure there's nothing you want that I don't have the power to offer you? Think long and hard, dearie. It's a one-time offer."

"I'm positive," she snapped. "Unless you want to hand over your dagger, there is nothing you have that's of any interest to me."

Rumplestiltskin leaned in, beady little eyes capturing her large brown ones in a long, uncomfortable stare. "What are you really doing here, Regina? Besides running?"

Her shoulders slumped before she could stop them. She glanced back at Robin's frozen form, his forehead wrinkled in concern, his mouth formed around words she wouldn't get to hear, one hand clenched in a fist, the other reaching out as though he had been about to wrap it comfortingly around her waist.

It was all wrong, she realized suddenly. Who had she been trying to fool? Snow, Tinker Bell, Robin, herself—herself most of all. This wasn't her Robin Hood; would never be her Robin Hood. Her Robin had known her, all of her, had trusted her and loved her all the same, until he learned the hard way that as generous and forgiving a man as he was, some parts of her past were simply unforgiveable. How could she live a life with this version of that man, and accept his love, his unconditional love, when she alone knew the conditions that would destroy it?

She didn't deserve it; he didn't deserve this.

And Henry—how could she have let herself do this to Henry? Goddamn her light magic; she didn't deserve that, either.

She couldn't run from her past any more than she could build her future here.

Rumplestiltskin knew her answer before she had a chance to give it.

"You'll have to go back the way you came, dearie," he said, and she opened her mouth to retort that they were fresh out of pixie dust when he brandished an arm to interrupt her, fingers gesturing up toward the ceiling, "unless there's another way."

"Are you suggesting you know another way?" she asked, but it was a rhetorical question.

His smile could have rivaled the Cheshire Cat's.

"Why do you care so much about helping me get back?"

"Oh, make no mistake, dearie, your future is no concern of mine. It's my own future that interests me…although I suspect you've already changed a good many things about it for the better. Never thought you could be capable of that, did you?"

Regina looked down at her hands, pressed them into the table to stop them from trembling.

"Do we have a deal then?"


"My, what a charming establishment," said Rumplestiltskin as he stood, looking around as though really noticing it for the first time.

"You got what you came for," Regina said shortly. "The door is that way."

"I like you much better like this," he told her with a grin to match the puckish lilt in his tone. "So much fire and rage that you don't even bother to hide anymore. You may have light magic now, dearie, but there is still a darkness in your heart that won't be so easy to vanquish."

"Thanks for your concern," she snapped. "Goodbye, Rumplestiltskin."

He snickered and disappeared with a snap of his fingers.

Regina made her way back over to Robin, slowly, hesitantly. She contemplated for a split second, nothing more, whether to wait and unfreeze him until after she'd gone, skip the goodbye, but as she drew closer the thought seemed more absurd, and then the smell of forest filled her senses, banishing it from her mind completely. She touched a hand to his face and he let out a gasp, his whole body loosened up, his eyes refocused on her like she was the only thing in the world he needed to see. It was the first time they were alone together since that moment on her balcony, and they both took a moment to relish the fact that the other was alive, well, breathing, safely within arm's reach again.

Though it wouldn't be for much longer, she thought with a dull ache in her heart.

"You're here," he said, smiling crookedly.

"Shadowfax," she responded by way of explanation.

"I knew she would find you," he said. "I rode back with Little John."

She tried to smile back but her lips wouldn't comply.

"Regina," he said, and his voice was husky. "Come here."

She begged her body not to move but it disobeyed, feet stumbling and hands reaching and she fell into his arms, his lips onto her skin, and he kissed her soundly until she was boneless in his grasp.

"I missed you," he whispered when they parted. She reached up to cradle his face in response, not trusting her voice to speak without cracking. He rubbed his forehead against hers, eyes closing as he breathed her in. "I feared the worst."

"I'm all right," she whispered.

"Why didn't you tell me before? About the magic?"

She angled her chin against his chest as she looked up at him, fearing what his eyes would show, but they were nothing but warm and blue, so blue.

"I forgot," she said honestly. Yet another thing of my past I was trying to pretend never existed.

"Are you ashamed of it?"

Her eyes dropped back down, focused on the rise and fall of his chest with each slow, calm breath.

"Magic always comes with a price."

"A price you've paid before," he realized.

A price we've all paid.

"Well, I'm still in its debt," she told him with a heavy sigh.

"Then we shall simply have to repay it," Robin said cheerfully, depositing a kiss to her hairline.

She smiled at the sentiment, as ridiculous as only she knew it to be. "We?"

"Yes, 'we,' whether you like it or not."

"A thief who talks about settling scores and paying debts that are not even his own," she mused.

"I'm still a man of honor, and of my word," he told her seriously, then paused for a moment. "The…imp…said you weren't from here."

Regina's arms instinctively began to withdraw from around his waist but he held them in place. "I…"

He waited patiently.

"It's difficult to explain," she said lamely.

"Then don't," he smiled, and her breath hitched.

"I hardly think it matters where you came from," he said with a shrug, taking her hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. "Only where you plan to go."

She shook her head. "Where did you come from?"

He laughed. "What do you mean?"

"You're too good to be real," she told him, and it was making it all the harder for her to leave him.

"That's not something a thief hears from his Queen every day," he teased. "So where do you plan to go?"

She definitely couldn't look him in the eyes now as the lie fell from her lips. "Wherever you are."

"I like the sound of that," he murmured, bending down to press light butterfly kisses down the side of her neck. "Although—in case we are unduly parted again—I wanted to give you something, so you'll never forget."

He withdrew a thin brown package from inside his tunic, the very same she had seen Little John give him that day in the tent when she'd first woken in this world.

"This belonged to my mother," Robin said gruffly, undoing the knotted twine. "I never met her, but…"

Regina rubbed her palms against his chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

He gave her a small smile. "For a long time after she was gone my father was beside him in grief, rage, and before long…he found ways to dull all of it." He was unfurling the brown paper now. "One night, in a drunken tantrum, he set the entire west wing on fire. It was where all my mother's belongings had been stowed after her death. The fire left most things in ruin, and then the rest…" He drew in a ragged breath. "Thieves came and pilfered the rest while we stayed with one of the local townsmen during its reconstruction. The man who owns this tavern now, actually."

Regina stilled in his arms.

"Little John and I have since tracked down most of what remained of my mother's. He acquired this particular item from a peddler just outside Sherwood Forest." He laughed to himself. "And to think we never would have crossed paths with it if I hadn't insisted we stay here an extra week, for you."

"How did he know it belonged to your mother?" Regina wondered. "Did he recognize it?"

Robin shook his head regretfully. "Even I wouldn't recognize half her things by sight alone. The only way of knowing for sure is the inscription on the inside…her initials. Here. I wanted you to have it." And a ring fell out of the wrapping and into the palm of his hand, a single emerald stone set in a strong gold band.

Regina was stunned into silence. She looked down at her ring finger, on her right hand, where Robin was already slipping it into place, and it fit perfectly, just as the one in Storybrooke had.

"I—" she started, but tears were prickling at the backs of her eyes all of a sudden, and what did any of this mean?

"Regina," Robin began lowly, stopped when a tear managed to escape despite her best efforts and he caught it with the pad of his thumb. "Why are you—"

"Will?" came a soft plaintive voice from around the corner.

Both Robin and Regina looked up in surprise.

"Ana!" exclaimed Robin, and a timid young girl with exquisite golden yellow hair and full pink lips appeared into view.

"What was that man doing here, Uncle Robin?"

It was the innkeeper's daughter, Regina realized. The girl Robin had saved from his own father.

"The man just stopped by for a visit," she explained to her hurriedly, "but he's gone now."

Ana looked uncertain. "Where's Will?" she asked again.

"You're looking for…Will?" Robin's brow furrowed in confusion, but Regina saw the frightened look on the girl's face and understood instantly.

"He's outside," she said with a reassuring smile. "I'll go get him."

She stepped out to find Will and Tinker Bell caught in some comical pose, looking as though they had been arguing loudly when Rumplestiltskin froze Robin and, it appeared, these two as well. Fighting the temptation to leave Will as he was, Regina sighed, waved her hand and they shimmered out of their immobilized states.

"I don't fancy losing my head today, thank you very much," said Will heatedly without pause.

"Oh, you silly boy," Tinker Bell reprimanded him, "our friends were in trouble and you abandoned them the first chance you got."

"And what about you, eh?" Will asked indignantly. "You took off too!"

"To yell some sense into you!" Tinker Bell argued. "I don't know why I even bothered. Clearly I was wasting my time."

"Yeah, clearly," said Will in a snit.

"Besides," Tinker Bell continued, "at least I had the benefit of knowing Regina can handle herself. You were willing to just leave them there at that woman's mercy."

"Well I've got to save me own hide first, now don't I!" said Will.

Regina cleared her throat loudly and two pairs of guilt-ridden eyes turned to her.

"I've taken care of it," she told them shortly. "Will, Ana's waiting for you inside."

"Bloody hell am I in for it now." His guilt increased tenfold as he shuffled back into the tavern.

As the door closed behind him, Regina turned to Tinker Bell.

"You lied to me," she said, pointblank, and to her surprise, the fairy looked immensely relieved.

"Regina? Is that you? Oh, thank God you made it!" She flung her arms around Regina's neck. "I was so worried I wouldn't be able to find you after—"

"After you slipped pixie dust in my tea?" Regina asked sharply. "So you do remember."

Tinker Bell grimaced. "I couldn't be sure when I saw you with Snow whether you were you, or, you know…the other you."

"And what were you hoping to accomplish, exactly, by sending me here?"

"To guide you down the right path," Tinker Bell said seriously, and Regina would've thrown her hands up in disgust at the vague response if it hadn't been such a…fairy-like thing for her to say. "You can't possibly tell me you don't have some idea of what you need to do now."

Regina felt all the indignant outrage deflate from her and she fell back against the wall of the tavern, hand pressed to her stomach. "Rumplestiltskin was right," she said grimly. "I'm not trying to find a new future here. I'm running from an old one." The fairy started to respond but Regina shook her head, needed to get this out. "Tinker Bell, I can't keep pretending that all the things I've done, all the horrible things that have happened because of me, don't matter just because they have yet to happen here."

"They don't have to happen here," Tinker Bell reasoned. "We've started down a new path. When the other Regina comes back to it, maybe life will turn out differently for her."

"And how is she going to do that?" Regina asked. "We're not exactly rolling around in pixie dust, and if she's trapped in my Storybrooke body, or wherever the hell she is—what?" Tinker Bell was grimacing. "Spit it out."

"There may not be another Regina to bring back if we don't do something about it," she said.

Regina shook her head, not understanding.

"Remember the cold I was telling you about?" A wary nod. "I think I died, Regina. I think that's how I was able to come back. And…I think…everyone else died along with it. You…me…"

Regina was grabbing her arm, clutching her stomach even harder with the other. "Henry?" she gasped. "Is—" but she couldn't get the rest of the words out, Tinker Bell was shaking her head again, no, no—

"The whole town froze over, Regina. Henry, Roland…Robin…they're all gone."

"I have to get back," Regina gasped, and any doubt that may have cropped traitorously back up in her heart while Robin was holding her—it was so easy to forget the world when he was holding her—came back at full strength, reinforced by the fact that her own happiness here was only a small sacrifice to make in order to save the ones she loved.

"Regina?" Robin was by her side suddenly, hoisting her up, preventing her fall. She clutched his forearm, fingers pressing into his lion tattoo, one last reminder of everything she was prepared to give up. She felt her ring, his mother's ring, burning into her skin.

"Will and Anastasia," he was saying, but her mind was so fuzzy from the grief that she could barely make the words out, "I think they're—"

She put an affectionate hand to his cheek, and he leaned into her touch. "They're in love," she managed to finish for him gently, "they were planning to escape with whatever he managed to steal from the castle, to start a new life, together."

Robin blinked, then chuckled. "That boy…" he muttered, but not quite as vexed as he probably intended to sound. "He certainly had me fooled."

"There's no room for trickery in that kind of love," Regina disagreed, her heart pounding rapidly. "He was only trying to hide it to protect her."

Robin's arms had enveloped her entirely now, he was pressing a kiss to her temple and she struggled not to meet Tinker Bell's gaze, knew she would see in it only a fraction of the anguish that was filling her lungs, she couldn't breathe.

"I feel as though I may very well be hallucinating right now," Robin was murmuring into her hair, and she felt him smile. Despair numbered her down to her fingertips. Her heart was bottoming out now. "You're simply too good to be real."

How was she ever going to convince this man to let her go?

A crunch of gravel and an approaching figure drew her attention away for a split second. It was a woman, judging by the sound of her voice as she hummed quietly to herself, swinging a cloth-covered basket under her arm. The open torch above the tavern door threw light upon her head, hooded, but there was no mistaking the raven dark curls of hair with flecks of gold peeking out of the sides, nor the wide-eyed look on Tinker Bell's face when she was the first to recognize the woman walking towards them.

It was the last person Regina ever would've expected to want to see.

It was Maid Marian.


A/N: I am so sorry for the long wait on this, hopefully you haven't forgotten about my little story by this point! If you've made it to this part (thank you for reading!), and you feel like throwing something at me, please don't! Leave a review instead :)? More soon!