A/N: It's been like two months but I was super busy with exams and other stories ;) I'm not entirely satisfied with this chapter... but it will do, I guess! Finally moving some pieces of the chessboard, but the real stuff will come later... Oh and, yes, the title of this chapter (which was already written before the big drama) is entirely dedicated to Jodie Whittaker. Nevertheless, she regenerated!


9

The She - Doctor

I know, everybody on this island
has a role on this island
so maybe I can roll with mine

.

When Regina gets her first phone call, she's in the new shower that's been installed a week ago.

For the kids, it has been a wonderful day, the day of the shower. They have opened their mouths in astonishment, entranced by this new technological feature. It has hit her, how these children can be in awe when put in front of something new, undiscovered, whereas Regina was feeling… relieved. She has waited to be alone to try it, and has welcomed the familiar spray of water with a content sigh. She has missed it, the feeling of almost-hot water like a cascade, and knowing she won't have to endure baths in the tub anymore.

So today she has indulged in another shower, and it's too good, she's actually dreading the moment she'll have to leave. And she hears little Anya's voice from outside, picking up the telephone in Robin's study and answering, just like they've all been instructed to do, "Hello, this is Sherwood, with whom do you want to speak?"

She has just relaxed back against the cold tiles of the shower when she hears, Miss Reginaaa, it's for you!

Anya says, Wait a moment, I'll go and find her! and she rushes down the corridor towards the bathroom. Regina has soap all over her hair, and tells her, "Darling, what is it?"

"Telephone for you! It's a lady from the hospital," she answers from behind the door.

Her heart skips a beat, and she shuts the water faucet to hear better. "The hospital?"

But Anya has already gone to retrieve the phone. She sighs, worry coursing through her veins, because Robin is somewhere with a friend today, and what if something happened? But it's weird, they wouldn't have asked for her

"Hello?" she answers a moment later. Her skin is dripping drops of water all over the floor, and she tries to adjust the towel around her body.

"Regina? This is Belle French from the Angels Hospital – I was the nurse who took care of – "

" – my arm, yes, I know," she says. "Is something wrong? What's happened?"

"Nothing's wrong," Belle reassures her. "But I was wondering if you'd like to meet? There's something I wish to discuss with you."

"Oh – uhm, okay," she answers, surprised. "That's… unexpected. When do you want to meet?"

"My shift is over at five today," Belle says, talking quickly now. "Meet me outside of the hospital? Thank you, Regina."

"Alright – you're – " she tries to say, but the call has ended, the phone giving back an empty sound, " – welcome," she sighs.

As she carefully hangs the receiver, she wonders. She practically hasn't spoken at all with Belle, and it's so weird for her to get a phone call here. Almost nobody outside of the Orphanage knows her, and she's kept a low profile. It's the end of June, now, the war is about to start. There's been some talk of it – whispers, on the streets, once at the hairdresser she went to with Ruby. But it's all a theoretical thought, between the Londoners, and she wishes to know what it's like to be in the Army – like Robin is – to see if they actually know something.

She pads towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of droplets like a trail, and keeps wondering about Belle and their meeting.

..::..

She arrives to the hospital earlier, after making up an excuse for Granny. So she waits, from half past four, kicking herself because she's too early, and she didn't want to draw attention to herself. So she watches, holding her purse, wishing it was cold to hug herself with a black coat and become invisible, to melt with the wall behind her. When there's seven minutes left, she sees a man coming out – he's tall and bald, and she especially notices her because he glares. It isn't just the passing glance of a man who has seen a pretty woman, it's the stare she has seen multiple times in her life. The man who wants something. Something very clear.

She averts her gaze, fixates it on the door of the hospital, praying for Belle to hurry and swipe her away from there. The man, however, crosses the road, going straight towards her. "Do you need any help, miss? Are you lost?"

He's taller than she is – she looks up, meets his eyes, and smiles politely. He seems… slimy. There is something unsettling with the way he's looking at her, his eyes roaming her body, hoping not to be noticed. "No, thank you," she answers, "I'm just waiting for a friend, she works at the hospital."

The man inflates his chest, proudly, and nods. "Oh, I see. I work there myself," he says, a little haughtily. "Doctor Leopold Blanchard, I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss…?"

"Mills – Regina Mills," she tells him, frowning when he lifts the hand she's offering and kisses her knuckles. "Nice to meet you too, but – alas, I've just seen my friend – "

Belle is, indeed, crossing the street, a weird expression on her face.

"Nurse French, what a coincidence you are the infamous friend," he tells Belle, who tugs up a corner of her lips in a smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes.

"I suppose so, sir," she says. Regina doesn't miss the way her eyes dart towards the street as if she wants to escape.

"That's a shame," Leopold tells Regina. "I was hoping to steal you for myself…"

Regina doesn't answer right away, processing what he's just said – his voice when he has said it – and nods curtly. "Well that's flattering, but we really should get going," she says. "It was nice to meet you, sir."

Belle looks relieved, as Regina takes her arm and leads her away without sparing him a second glance. She's used to deal with men like him – not that this makes the experience become pleasant. She slides into the first café she can find, and drags Belle with her.

"Sorry about that," Belle says, in an apologetic voice. "He's a bit… You dealt with him splendidly."

Regina slips out of her cardigan, sitting at the wobbly chair of a small table. "I'm used to guys like him, unfortunately," she dismisses. "But what is it that you wanted to talk me about?"

Belle shifts uncomfortably and sits next to her. "Well…"

..::..

"A job?"

Robin places the cup of tea in front of her, and sits heavily on the chair. They're in the kitchen, the house is silent, the kids are – should be – asleep.

"I don't know if I will take it," she says quietly. "I mean, I… miss my job, I really do. But Belle said the hospital is not really… fond of female doctors."

"And you'd be a… nurse?"

"Yes," she sighs. "But I haven't studied for years just to let some bossy big shot explain to me how to use a syringe." He looks puzzled, she notices when she lifts her eyes. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he shakes his head, but she can sense he's not telling her the truth. "I… I've never met someone quite like you, that's all."

Regina tilts her head, her hand curling around the cup of tea. "Like me… how?"

"You're… passionate, you're not afraid of speaking for what you believe in," he explains. Her heart swells a little, she hides a smile with a sip of tea. "You are so different from… my late wife."

"Tell me about her," she asks, with a sudden urge to know. From him, not from Granny or an old diary.

He looks down, eyes fixated on the table, and nods. Gulps, slowly. "Marian was… a kind spirit. She was mellow, a tranquil woman, she almost never got angry, but when she did… god, it was a sight. She was not… weak. Just calm, and poised, and wise, unafraid to put me on the right track. I was so different, before meeting her. And she has loved Roland so much… sometimes I think those were the best and worst weeks of her life."His eyes have started to tear up, so she leaves the cup to take his hand, and he squeezes it gratefully. "But… your turn. Tell me about your husband."

Well… that was to be expected, she thinks. Regina looks at him, his kind eyes awaiting her answer, and starts. "Daniel is… was," she corrects, taking a deep breath, her heart breaking a little, "he… I miss him so much," she tells him – and feels, horrified, tears starting to well in her eyes. "He was a soldier, during the… war. But he died later, five years ago, he… died in a fire." The lies sting, her eyes falling down. Truth is, losing Daniel is a lot fresher than five years ago, and she may not have a way to go home, but she hasn't given up yet.

"But you still wear his ring?"

His question takes her by surprise. "Yes," she murmurs, her finger toying with the ring, making it turn. "I guess I'm not… resigned to the idea, to have lost him. I guess I still think I can come back to him, someday."

"More like… he can come back to you."

Her gaze darts up to find his, and she amends her mistake. "Yes, exactly." Why is it so difficult to keep her lies straight with him? She has already slipped twice, when will she learn?

"And… do you ever think it's time to move on?" She widens her eyes, and he quickly shakes his head. "I didn't… mean to offend you, if I did, I'm…"

"No, you didn't," she tangles their fingers together, finding out she rather likes the feeling of his hand in hers. It's comforting. "And… yes, I thought about it… but he was away for most of the year, and our marriage was… but I don't really know why I'm telling you this," she smiles through tears, suddenly sad, because their marriage may have had its issues but she misses him.

Robin laughs softly. "Because I like to think I'm… your friend, at least a bit, after those months."

"Yeah," she murmurs. "I don't… I enjoy having someone who understands about this kind of pain, you know… but it's still hard."

He nods, wordlessly. "We will talk more," he promises. "Until the pain goes away."

Regina nods back, wishing it was true.

..::..

In July, she meets some of Robin's friends – his best man John, who must share that job and that air of secrecy. Even so, he's welcoming and kind with her, he calls her Robin's mystery girl, and makes her blush. She meets Jake, a quick boy of twenty who is Henry's idol – just as much as Henry is Roland's – and Jake tells her he's American too, that it's nice to meet a fellow countrywoman.

Robin starts staying home some more. His friends come and go, bringing paperwork and mysterious briefcases, and she once catches sight of a map splayed on his desk before John closes the door. There are phone calls in the middle of the night, but she never asks. Maybe there are things he can't tell her. Maybe she shouldn't know, really. This is not a game, she's come to accept it more and more. If she's to stay – for an undetermined time, she will have to learn how to play.

Her nightmares get more frequent. They are not horrific – the kind of stuff that makes her wake up screaming. They are subtle, slithering in her psyche, she opens her eyes with a veil of sweat on her forehead, images fading away. There is blue and black, in her dreams. There is a recurring swastika and a burned flag. And hands, everywhere, grabbing and pulling. Small bombs drop down in white parachutes, of the kind she's seen in movies.

Whispers behind closed doors.

She thinks she's going crazy. Knowing is a curse, she'd give anything to have the children's blissful ignorance about the countdown that is going to tear their lives apart. She doesn't know if she'll be able to outlive the war, and for sure, they won't emerge unscathed. Someone will not survive.

Her sour mood reflects on her actions. She's been a fairly good actress about her lies – almost convincing herself that she's the American Doctor Regina Mills and her husband died in the First World War, leaving her with nothing, that she came to London in search of a better life. Her real past is painfully there, in a corner of her mind. Maybe, under torture she would let it out.

She's not the only one to be affected by the upcoming future. The adults in the Orphanage are too, she often catches Granny staring blankly into space. Ruby is more jittery. Ashley, the girl who helps out with the cleaning and the kids – hired after a long discussion Regina had with Robin – she's more quiet than when she's first met her, two months after her arrival. Her fiancé Thomas, who's the newfound gardener, often speaks with Robin behind corners, in hushed tones, as if he knows.

Robin himself is on edge. He's always surrounded with paperwork, closed in his study, always gloomy, worried, except for when he's with the children. It seems like there is something in particular that bothers him, maybe of bureaucratic matters. It seems weird that he's opened up with her about Marian, but he's not told her about his current troubles. She's tired of pushing him, though. He will talk when he's ready – sure as hell she will not talk, not now not ever, about her biggest secret.

..::..

One day, they arrange for a general houseclean, with the children's help, and he's particularly snappy. Regina has caught, this morning at breakfast, a whiff of that perfume – the mysterious woman's perfume, she has sensed it when she had to place a plate in front of Robin. At this point, considered what she knows – the secrecy, the mystery – she wonders if the woman is his lover: she came during the night, left before dawn, and probably, he's not even slept.

The lack of sleep combined with a dozen of lively kids and his sour mood are going to be a lethal mix today, and Regina muses that at some point he will break, like a too-stretched rubber band.

He breaks in the afternoon, when they're in the drawing room and little Lucy accidentally breaks a little compact mirror in her haste to dust it. The sound of shattering glass makes everyone freeze, and Regina turns slowly to look at Robin, who's staring at the mirror with wide eyes. Lucy withdraws, fear in her eyes, with a trembling I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry!

She looks close to tears, so Regina rushes in her direction, kneels down and whispers hurriedly It's okay, baby, it's okay. Lucy is straight up crying now. She throws her arm around her neck, weeps, but in the meanwhile Robin is storming out of the room, Roland is nearing her and Lucy, Henry looks like he wants to go after Robin. Regina calls him, "Henry! Come here and take care of Lucy, please."

She untangles herself from the little girl's arms, leaves her with the others and follows Robin, before he can do something stupid.

He's not far – just around the corner, breathing heavily, his back turned in her direction. She slows down, her hand goes up to his shoulder. "Robin," she says, calm, "are you alright?"

"She broke it."

His voice is low, sounds weird and angry. Regina sees his hand shaking, and feels his pure anger hitting her like a wave. "It was – Marian's, and now it's gone."

"She didn't mean to. She's just a child – "

"Oh, please!" he turns towards her, she takes a step back, because he's just furious. She thought he was just hurt, but… this is worse. "Don't you dare defend her, Regina! You don't know how I feel!"

"I know exactly how you feel, or you just forgot everything I told you last night?" she raises her voice, her anger starting to seep out. "You're acting like an idiot!"

"Regina?"

It's Henry's voice, almost timid, as if he's scared of interrupting them. Regina looks at Robin who has averted his gaze, and then at Henry. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"It's… I'm sorry, Roland hurt himself by accident and…"

"What?" Robin turns his head, his anger almost instantly dissipated as Regina gasps and starts walking towards the drawing room. "What… Roland, what happened?"

There is blood on the carpet, and Roland crouched down and surrounded by some of the kids, sadness in his eyes, as he holds his injured hand with the other one and weeps silently. "S-sorry, Daddy," he sobs, "I – I didn't mean to, b-but Lucy was crying and I – I wanted to patch up the mirror so she doesn't cry anymore," he stares down sadly, the adults already crouching next to him.

Robin doesn't say anything, but turns Roland's hand to see the cut – the back of his hand is sliced, with the dangerous goofiness of a child who wanted to do a good deed. "Shit," he curses. "Granny's away today, we have to take him to the hospital."

"No," Regina cuts in. "Henry, bring me the medical aid kit, please – Anya, make everyone exit this room; Charles, help Henry watch the others. I can do this, there's no need for the hospital."

She's still angry with Robin, but her anger seems to have subsided to a slow pulse in a corner, as she focuses on Roland. Robin just goes with her decision and holds his son, shushing him when he protests against the alcohol burning his wound and her – even gentle – touch on the shattered fragments.

It's a slow work, monotonous, she tries to be as gentle as possible. The mirror has shattered in one larger piece and an handful of smaller ones, but the sandy-like fragments are the difficult ones, and she can't leave them in. Then, she has to stitch the cut, and Roland moans in pain, but Robin promises him sugary treats afterwards.

She meets Robin's eyes, every now and then, a current of unsaid between them – as in We will talk later and You've acted like a moron and I'm sorry for your son. She will make sure to tell him, but for now she focuses, and hopes the cut will heal, and kisses Roland's forehead when she's done.

She swiftly gets up from the floor, her joints protesting about the uncomfortable position, and walks towards the door, the medical kit in hand, when Robin's voice comes.

"Regina?"

She turns, a hand on the knob. "Yes?"

"Thank you," he murmurs, a glance to the mop of curly hair in his lap. "And…" his gaze lifts to meet hers. "Take that job."