She's certainly no saint but she has tried so hard to be patient and understand why he's still struggling to be intimate with her. She soothes her own doubts by telling herself that it's just taking him time to readjust but that eventually all will be as it once was between them. That it's been almost five months now is something neither one of them speaks about when all he can do is hold her.

Which isn't to say that they haven't been together; of course they have.

Physically, they still match. Perhaps not as well as they once did - she tries not to think that it's because he has learned to enjoys the ways of another woman (the Queen) but it's hard not to when his strong hands hesitate and pause.

Emotionally, they're far apart and the gap just continues to grow. These days, Marian finds herself being able to breathe easier when he's away and not so close by, always trying to be a good man.

Always trying to do the right thing by being the faithful husband.

She knows that she's beginning to resent him.

And she hates that.

Hates her - the Queen - for this.

Because Robin is…Robin is her husband. Her friend. Her True Love.

Only he's not and there's only so many lies that Marian can tell herself.

But she tries. Oh does she tries and when Robin tells her that Regina has asked - agreed - to see him to talk about the baby, she smiles brightly at him and says, "Good; it's about time that this….whole thing gets dealt with."

He looks across the camp, over towards where Roland is playing with John's youngest boy. Sweet little Roland who doesn't understand any of this but who sometimes still asks to see the mischeivous woman that whom he'd come to adore like the mother that Marian had never really been allowed to be to him.

"Robin?" she presses. And then swallows because she's about to ask a question that she doesn't actually want an answer to. "What do you want to happen here? Do you…do you want her to let you be a father to this baby?"

He turns and looks at her. "I won't lie to you."

She smiles again and says, "Of course not" even though she's thinking that his inability to tell her point blank that he doesn't want to be with her is a lie.

"I…being a father is the one thing that I'm good at," Robin tells her.

"You're a good father," she says automatically and then she sighs because they're talking in circles and going nowhere. "Go talk to her, my love."

The words feel so right on her own lips but she wonders what they sound like to him. Do they echo inside of his head? Bounce off of his heart?

Do they still warm him as they once had?

He stands up. "You know I'm sorry for all of this, right?"

"You keep apologizing," she answers and it's not much of an answer at all.

Nor is it letting him off the hook as she has a hundred times before.

Because he's on his way to see the wicked woman that his righteous heart now belongs to and Marian is starting to realize - perhaps even starting to accept if she's entirely honest with herself in a way that she hasn't been - that no matter where her own heart is, his has moved on and is no longer hers.

Their eyes meet and Robin nods slowly. He starts to say something else, perhaps something easy - a beautiful lie - like, "I love you" but he stops himself because it feels wrong to offer such hope when it's just not there.

She feels tears sting her eyes as she watches the great love of her life walk away through the trees to meet the woman who is now the love of his.


She's talking to her little girl, promising her that she won't let Henry name her something strange when Regina hears the sound of footsteps approaching from behind her. The approach is deliberate which likely means that it's someone who knows her well enough to understand that sneaking up on a former Evil Queen is probably a bad idea. They're heavy as well which mean they belong to -

"Regina."

Him.

They belong to him.

Of course they do.

She reaches down and pulls her coat closed, not yet willing to let him see the growing swell of her belly. She's been going back and forth in her mind for hours, trying to figure out how this conversation needs to go, trying to decide what she needs to say here. What is the right thing for her children?

Nothing else matters, right?

"Robin," she says as she turns to face him. She takes in his appearance, smiling slightly at the change of clothes. He's wearing loose fitting beige cargo pants and a deep forest green Henley that looks quite handsome on him. Still, if it were up to her, she'd probably try to get him into some other colors. Some light blues to really bring out his eyes a bit more, maybe.

But it's not up to her.

Her gaze flickers upwards and she takes in the bags beneath his eyes and if she perhaps feels just a moment of satisfaction that he's having a hard time with this too, then that's something she'll choose to keep to herself.

"Am I allowed to say that I've missed you?" Robin asks.

"No," she replies immediately. "But…thank you."

He offers her a sad smile. "Shall we…shall we sit or -"

"I sit more than I care to admit," she chuckles. "We'd like to walk."

"We," he echoes. Then, "Of course." Robin holds for a moment, waiting for her to take the lead and she's reminded of the times they'd spent side by side (even if not exactly on friendly terms) in the Enchanted Forest. He'd been quick to challenge her, but always chivalrous and respectful of her station.

Comfortable with her leadership even though he'd, too, had a claim to such.

It'd been one of the things that attracted her to him, his ability to be in command without ever having to exert any kind of unnatural authority.

So unlike the Evil Queen.

She'd been envious of that ease even as she'd despised him for it.

Those days are long gone and now it's just them and this mess.

And a little girl kicking away in her belly making loud demands already.

Regina steps forward and once she starts moving, Robin falls into step beside her, saying nothing and just waiting for her to speak. He seems to understand that this is her show and her choice and he has to be patient and calm.

But it feels just a little bit like he's trying not to spook her.

She sighs as they get to the bend of the pond that has a rail around it and then she stops and places a hand on the cool metal, clenching her fingers around the bar to help ground herself. "How's Roland?" she asks finally.

"Growing like a weed and leaving shoes behind by the day," Robin chuckles.

"Turns out there's an unexpected benefit to this new world."

"Shoe stores," she agrees. Then, conspiratorially, "I've found quite the liking for them as well." She gestures down at her shoes - stylish designer flats.

He doesn't tell her that he'd noticed them the moment he'd laid eyes on her because he'd recognized just how much smaller than usual she'd looked.

Even wearing a huge jacket to cover up her growing belly.

"He likes Nikes."

"I bet he does." She pauses and then, "Have you told him about the baby?"

"No. I don't want him to…I didn't want to set any kind of expectation."

"You should know that every part of me wants to tell you that I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"Let you be involved."

"Ah." Then, with something of a sheepish smile to hide his sinking heart, Robin says softly, "Every part?" It comes off sadder than he'd intended.

Which is probably why she's looking at him with such intensity now.

"Not every part," she corrects. "The part of me that enjoyed that note and the flower that you left me -" she smiles when she sees the spark of joy in is eyes at her willing receipt of his gift, "That part disagrees with the rest of me. But that part is foolish and it still has some absurd hope that all of this will work out, and I think we both know better than that. We know how crazy that is."

"So you've made your choice ?" he says after a moment. It's an unintentional echo of Regina saying the same words to him just a few month earlier, and it causes both of them to flinch just a bit at the memory of that day.

Her voice shaking just a bit, she says, " I've been going around and around in my head about this choice since I decided to meet with you. I've gone from yes to no to probably to not a chance in this world or any other because he made a choice and now he has to live with the consequences."

"I never meant to hurt you," Robin insists and then he reaches for her and only at the last minutes manages to stop himself from touching her.

"I know and that's why we're having this conversation, Robin. Because as angry as I am at you and as hurt as I am, I understand why you did what you did and that actually…I hate that I do even more because I shouldn't. I should be able to just…I think maybe I was stronger when I didn't care about the reasons others gave to me for why they hurt me. I was stronger but I wasn't better and that has caused me to lose sight of the things that are important which is that I want to be better for my children. For Henry and for her."

"It's a girl?" he asks, his eyes sparkling and his handsome face lighting up.

"She is. Here." She reaches out for hand hand and this really couldn't possibly be more dangerous if either one of them tried but then she's leading him over to a bench and the moment they're sitting, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out the ultrasound. "In this world, doctors can see the babies early. They can take pictures of them and ensure that they're healthy and safe." She offers Robin the picture and then points into the middle of it. "That's her."

For a long moment, he just stares in mute wonder at the black and white photo, his blue eyes wide and amazed. He traces a finger over the gentle curve of the child and then he looks up at her, "This is…this is our little girl?"

"Yes. That's our little girl."

"She's healthy?"

"Perfectly."

"And you are? Healthy as well, yes?"

"I'm fine. I might not make full term but…well…she's fine and I'm fine."

He looks back down at the picture, and it's then when she sees the tear trickling down his cheek. Without thinking, Regina reaches out and catches it with her thumb, quickly wiping it away before it can land on the ultrasound.

His voice low, he asks, "Does this mean you'll let me be a part of her life?"

"I think that's what I'm supposed to do here."

His head snaps back. "But…but it's not what you want?"

"What I want…well, let's be honest here: what I want doesn't matter."

His eyes close as he tries to quiet the pained hammering of his heart. Then, "I know that it doesn't seem like it right now and I know I have broken your trust terribly, but for what it's worth, what you want does to me and I will respect whatever decision you make," he tells her. "But I would like to be her father.

"I won't be an obligation," she tells him sharply. "And I won't let my child be that, either so if that's all this to you, then…then, Robin, I need you to -"

"I want to be her father, Regina. If you'll let me be, that's what I want to be."

Neither his voice nor his tense body leave any doubt to his sincerity or to his honesty and if there was any, the intensity of his gaze dispels such. There's a forceful nature to his words and a kind of almost mad desperation about him.

"And you will be. Because you're a good man and a good father. As much as I wish I could hurt you as much as you've hurt me for the choice that you made - regardless of your intent - I won't do that to her. Because I do understand and maybe I even deserve this -" she quickly holds up her hand to stop his immediate protest. "But she doesn't. She - my, our daughter - she deserves the very best of what I can be and that's what she's going to get from me."

"You're a better person than you've ever given yourself credit for."

"The fact that Emma had to save your wife from my prison says otherwise."

Robin chooses not to argue with her about that, instead just looks down at the picture of his unborn daughter Finally, quietly, he asks, "What of us?"

"There is no us. There's just two people who parent together."

He wants to contest her words, desperately wants to reach out to her, touch her and convince her that they will always be more than that to each other, but she's tense and he can see how tightly she's holding on to her emotional control; she's fighting to keep the pettiness that had been so much a part of their often turbulent days in the Enchanted Forest together at bay and she's struggling to suppress the hurt and rage that are darkening her eyes.

He would be a fool to push her too hard.

Luckily for him, he's no fool and he's come to recognize her moods and learn when the right times to push her are and when are the times sure to lead to a bad reaction; he's come to understand her and understand her well he does.

She's at the end of her restraint, the end of her patience and calm.

She's hurt and angry and trying so desperately hard to be a good person.

He already believes her to be one, but loves her all the more for the effort.

An effort that he believes he ill deserves.

"Might I take this with me?" he asks, holding up the picture.

"I brought it for you."

"Thank you. Do we…do you have a name decided yet?"

"No. I'm letting Henry choose her name,."

"I look forward to hearing it."

Regina chuckles. "Don't be so sure about that." She stands up then, and starts to unbutton her jacket, feeling vaguely foolish about it. When she's done, though, her rounding belly is showing beneath the light sweater she has on.

"You're both okay?" Robin asks again.

"We're both survivors," Regina replies, smiling slightly.

He answers it in kind. "Is she moving around yet?"

"Oh, she never stops." Regina moves her hand - stops - and then sighs and again takes his into hers and guides it to her belly, trying to ignore the spark of feeling - and the intense memories that come with it - that go through her when his palm slides against her, his fingers dancing over the bump.

As if on cue, the baby kicks out.

He laughs, a stunning smile spreading across his bearded face.

"She's this bad all the time?"

"She has her opinions," Regina replies once he moves away. She buttons her coat back up and looks up at him, seeing him grinning at her. "What?"

"Oh nothing. It's just, she has opinions," he says, his eyes dancing with a kind of open affection that makes her heart hurt a whole lot. "Just like her mother."

"She also thinks she can take care of everything with a little bit of calm; she likes to pretend that if you just think good thoughts, everything is all right," Regina states. "Just like her father." She gets a hard kick for that comment.

But chooses to ignore it.

Because she's making a point here.

She's not trying to make him change his mind.

She's trying to tell Robin that his lonely resignation, his decision to return to something that isn't making anyone happy (she can still vividly remember the sadness in Marian's eyes, the spark of agonizing awareness flashing for just a moment there) is a lot like putting your head in the sand and pretending.

Pretending that everything is all right.

"I've miss you," he tells her and this time he doesn't ask her if he can say it.

"I've missed you, too," she tells him, her voice rough.

His eyes travel down from her face to her belly and then back up again. "You are breathtaking," he tells her. "Truly. I hope you know that."

For a moment, she thinks she feels the faintest echo of magic, but since her own is bound, that can't be the case; still, the baby reacts, anxious about the heartache she feels radiating up through her mother. "I'll be in touch," she says finally, her voice thick with a thousand dark and light emotions.

And then she turns and walks away from him.

Before she says or does something that she can't take back.

Before she says something like, "please stay." Or "please don't leave."

Or "I've changed my mind and you need to stay far away from me."

Instead of saying any of those pathetic phrases, Regina pulls out her cell phone and dials a number and shakily whispers, "I need to see you."


When he gets back to the camp, it's a bit of dinner and most of the men are milling around. His eyes flicker across the camp and settle on Roland sitting in Tuck's arms, listening to the bombastic friar tell another of his absurd tales. Robin glances around and doesn't see Marian and then hates himself for the relief he feels at that. He knows deep down that everything is going to change tonight. He thinks that it even needs to change. But still, he dreads this.

He makes his way into the camp and towards Roland and Tuck. "M'boy," he calls out and then Roland is in his arms and hugging him so tightly.

He lets out a breath and a happy sigh. For all the way he's screwing everything up these days, Roland is the one thing he's still getting right.

"How was your day?" he asks.

"Mama and I went hunting."

"Did you now?"

"She caught a dear. I didn't."

'Well soon enough." He ruffles Roland's hair. "Where is your mother now?"

Roland shrugs his shoulders and then he's looking elsewhere, towards a group of kids playing nearby. "Go," Robin says. "But bedtime in an hour."

The boy grins and then scampers away.

"I don't know why you even bother pretending he has a bedtime," Tuck chides.

"Well if John's boys ever slept, it would be helpful. I suppose I shouldn't complain; they do tire him out."

"That they do." A pause and then, "As for Marian, she went for a walk," Tuck notes, gesturing towards the trees and a winding dirt trail that seems to pick up right at the foot of the big elms. "Whatever happened between the two of your earlier upset her pretty badly."

"I know," Robin says, his eyes darting to Roland. "Is she all right?"

"She's strong."

"That wasn't my question."

"I know and I also know that sometimes you can't have back what you lost."

"Why is this so turned around in my head."

"Because this isn't something you can out-wit someone in, Robin. This is a matter of the heart."

"I'm well aware." He pats Tuck on the shoulder. "If anyone asks -"

'You went to find Marian. Advice, my friend?"

"Always."

"It's a matter of the heart so speak from the heart. Even if it burns to do so, at least it's the truth."

Robin smiles sadly, squeezes his hand on Tuck's shoulder and then steps towards the path leading into the trees.


Archie is waiting for her when she gets to his office and because he knows her so well by now, he doesn't say a word, just opens the door and shuts it behind her and then watches as Regina plays with Pongo for a few minutes.

She'll talk when she's ready.

It takes awhile for her to be ready.

When she at last ends her session with Pongo by kissing him on the nose and scratching his ears, she then turns to Archie and says, "I wanted to be selfish."

And Archie says the same thing he always says, "It's okay to want to be selfish, Regina. It's always okay. It's what you do with the desire to be so that matters."

It's his way of saying, "talk to me".

So she sits down on his couch, pats it for Pongo to join her, places her other hand lightly over her belly (the baby is restless now, perhaps even greatly agitated that her usual calming effect isn't working) and starts talking.


She hears the sound of his footsteps as they approach. Heavier and more weighted than she members them being.

His approach is cautious, wary.

So much has changed.

This isn't her Robin anymore and gods does that hurt.

She turns to face him.

He looks happy. And sad.

He's holding something tightly in his hand.

A strange black and white picture thing with a lot of swirls.

"You're back," she notes.

"They told me you went for a walk.

"I needed some space away from...well, it doesn't matter," she says.

"Marian -"

"What did she decide?"

There's a hesitant pause and then he extends the picture to her. "It's called an ultrasound."

She looks down at the picture but won't take, won't touch it. Instead, she requests, "Promise me that you won't lie to me, Robin."

"I would never lie to you."

"Do you love me?"

"I love you."

"Are you in love with me?"

His face contorts.

She inhales, exhales and then asks, "Are you in love with her?"

"I'm sorry."

His eyes meet hers and if he'd hoped not to hurt her, he knows that this is impossible now because the time for denial is over; only the truth matters.

"Yes," Robin replies finally, his voice thick with devastation and self-loathing as he breaks the heart of his first love and oldest friend. "I am."

TBC...