We're getting close to the end! Just three chapters and a possible epilogue left after this!
For a better visual of the evening gown Regina wears in this, you can Google the Vera Wang gown that Michelle Obama wore to a China state dinner last September, and then picture it in navy instead of black.
"No."
"Agent Locksley," Ursula warns.
"Absolutely not," he reiterates, his tone bordering on angry as he chances a look at Regina.
They're all in the oval office, Robin, Mal and David sitting on one of the couches, seething at Gold, Ingrid and Ursula, who sit on the other. Regina is standing in the middle of the small living area, tall heels digging into the giant depiction of the Great Seal on the carpet, her face set in a scowl as she listens to them argue about her safety.
Robin cannot understand why, but it seems the press secretary and Regina's chief of staff (and Ingrid too, for that matter) have lost every shred of common sense they possessed, the news he and Mal have delivered having done nothing to deter them from urging Regina to attend a public event tomorrow night.
The White House Correspondents' Dinner is an annual gathering held at the Washington Hilton, usually on the last Saturday of April. It's one of the biggest, most popular affairs and a world-famous D.C. staple, an elegant evening where the President and Vice President of the United States dine with those they usually see from the other side of a podium in the press room. Previous Chiefs of State and members of the cabinet have even been known to perform fun, self-mocking monologues for the correspondents in attendance, all in an over-the-top attempt to honor and celebrate the relationship between the White House and the media, horrible as though it might be at times.
This year, the event had to be moved to early May (tomorrow, May 10th to be exact), since the whole ordeal with Gaston happened on the week the dinner was supposed to take place, and both the Correspondents' Association and the White House were too busy to even consider such a high-profile engagement.
Regina and David are expected to attend, and fun, self-deprecating speeches have already been crafted by a team of comedic writers regularly employed by the likes of Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart. Ruby has picked out a dress for Regina to wear (a blue one, per Roland's official request), hair stylists and makeup artists have been called in, limos have been arranged, and all of Washington is abuzz with excitement and anticipation. Robin detests all of it, enraged as he is right now by the ludicrous idea that Regina should still attend the shindig when there's a killer on the loose.
He and Mal had filled the others in on what's been going on, and David had immediately agreed that Regina should not show up at any events outside the White House, should stay here where she is safe and well looked after. Gold had countered that the Secret Service should simply do their job and protect her while she's out, that the event is at a grand hotel in the middle of the city and is the most anticipated night in D.C. society, that surely no criminal would be daft enough to try anything there where he can so easily be seen and caught.
"Regina, you can't possibly think this is a good idea," David intervenes, looking towards her. She remains quiet, standing between them, arms crossed over her shoulders.
"I don't really see how we can cancel so last minute, not without them suspecting that something's wrong," she tells him sincerely.
"All due respect, ma'am, but risking your safety over an event that is of no real political or economic consequence is madness, going to this thing is dangerous," Robin insists, unable to stop the desperation from lacing his tone as his eyes find hers and he silently begs her to listen, to stay here where he can protect her best.
"You're the President of the United States, dear, you can fucking cancel if you want to cancel," Mal says in a bored tone.
"You've been out of the public eye since the Gaston ordeal, and that was a great press conference, but that's not going to gain you enough popularity to sail through the next few years, you need to let the people see you."
"So you're going to risk her safety simply because you want people to see her make fun of herself? This lunatic could show up at any moment!" Robin barks back.
"Yes, and whose fault is that, Agent Locksley?" Ursula speaks up then, raising a skeptical eyebrow at him as she adds, "this threat should've been neutralized by now."
"He has help from the inside, that's why we brought Agent Feuer in, she's helping us determine the accomplice, I told you this ten minutes ago, but you were too busy supporting this barmy idea to listen."
"I do not appreciate your tone, Agent," Ursula warns.
"I'm telling you you're risking the life of your president, and all you can say is that you don't like my tone?!"
"Enough!" Regina interrupts, exasperated.
"I need a moment to think this through," she informs them, turning to her assistant, "Ingrid, please go make sure everything is ready for my lunch with the Ambassador of Poland. Agent Feuer, Agent Locksley, Mr. Gold, I'm going to need you to wait outside for a few minutes while I talk to Ursula and David."
"Yes, ma'am," they reply, and Robin shuffles his way out the door after Mal, pausing before exiting to throw a look at Regina and mouth a silent Please, but he doesn't get to see her response, because Gold is suddenly there, following him out of the room and closing the door behind them.
He watches Mal pace back and forth for a few seconds, trying to rein in her anxiety, and then, when it's clear she can't take the charged silence anymore, she announces that she's going up to the roof to have a cigarette and clear her head, asking him to please let her know what Regina decides. He agrees with a nod of his head, and then watches her walk away, wrapped in the same cloud of frustration he can feel looming over him.
Robin can feel his anger flare when he sets his sight on Gold, his blood boiling at the mere sight of the man beside him. He grits his teeth so as not to say anything, trying desperately to remain professional, but then Gold throws a smug smile his way, and he loses it.
"How dare you suggest she show up at that dinner after everything we told you?!"
"If she's to run and hide after every death threat, Agent Locksley, then she may as well just stay locked up here for the rest of her term." Gold's reply is condescending, turns offhanded as he adds, "President King did public appearances while in similar danger and nothing ever happened, I'm sure President Mills will be fine, but she must keep to her schedule, she has a reputation to maintain."
"This isn't about your bloody appearances or her reputation, it's about her life!"
"Such a dignified, eloquent and peaceful way to argue, you have," Gold remarks sarcastically.
"Mock me all you want, you self-serving scum," he fires back, angrier still, "but you know I'm right. You're willing to put the president in danger for a few seconds of airtime, many have gone to jail for less."
"You forget your place, Agent Locksley," the man warns, his tone lowering to something with a bit more bite.
"And you, Mr. Gold, forget that you're only here on a technicality," Robin presses on. "The only reason you're still Press Secretary is because the person set to take over your job was fired by President Mills before she made it to the White House."
"Ah, yes, and what happened there, exactly?" Gold asks with a sneer. "What made her fire Sidney Glass?"
"That's none of your business," Robin spits, fists clenching at the mention of the man's name.
"On the contrary, Agent Locksley, I think it is."
"Stay out of it, Gold, I mean it. And she's not going."
The door opens behind them just then, Ursula poking her head out and asking them back inside, where Regina awaits sitting behind her desk, looking cool and collected as she appraises them both before she informs them of her decision.
"I'm going to the Correspondents' Dinner," she says firmly, and Robin immediately begins to recite the many reasons why that's a bad idea, the most important one being she could be hurt, dammit.
"You can secure the perimeter for the two hours I'll be in there, can you not?"
"Yes, but-"
"Then I really don't see why I should have to stay behind. I don't want to cancel this, Agent Locksley, I'm the President, I do not want to cower under threats that might be empty to begin with."
"Ma'am, we've yet to pinpoint a culprit, and we know someone on the inside is helping him, it would really be best if you stay here, where we can keep a proper eye on you."
"People are expecting me there, I do not wish to disappoint them," she insists, her eyes fervent on his, pleading, asking him to understand.
Robin sighs defeatedly, knowing there's no way he'll convince her to skip that dinner.
"Very well, ma'am," he tells her, "we'll do as you wish."
RM: Are you going to stay out there all night?
Her text reaches him a little before midnight, while he's standing guard outside her room. He's curt and brief in his reply.
RL: It's my job.
She sends nothing back, and he starts feeling guilty for being so harsh, types a quick message to explain himself.
RL: I need time to digest everything.
RM: I know. But you understand why I'm going?
RL: I understand. Doesn't mean I have to like it.
RM: Babe, I have to do this.
RL: I know.
She stays quiet for a while, and Robin is about to pocket his phone when it chirps with a new message.
RM: You'll be there with me, right?
He grins slightly at that, at how timid she seems, and words his answer in a way that will reassure her.
RL: Not even a cyclone could keep me away.
RM: If this phone had proper emojis, I'd be sending you kisses right about now.
RL: You'll just have to give me real ones tomorrow. Rest well, my love.
RM: Goodnight, Robin.
Morning finds him exhausted and still at Regina's door, Roland bounding towards him from down the hall with a muffled shout of "Daddy!" that serves to raise his spirits.
"There's my boy!" he greets, picking him up and planting a smooch on his cheek, "How are you feeling?"
He's been doing considerably well after his fever broke last week. The exposure to the cold air during their little trip to the greenhouses, brief as it was, hadn't helped much, and his temperature had spiked up again (though thankfully not as high), but after two days of proper bed rest, antibiotics, and Chef Lucas's delicious soups, Roland had made a full recovery and is now back to his cheerful, active self. Robin still worries, though, wants to make sure there's nothing lingering of the virus.
"I'm fine," the boy replies, his tone denoting how silly he thinks his father's being, asking him that every time he sees him, but Robin won't be deterred by his five-year-old's exasperation.
"No headaches or anything? Did Ashley take your temperature last night before bed? And this morning?"
"Yes, daddy, she says I'm okay, that I'm strong like you," Roland replies, giggling when Robin tickles his belly.
"Alright, alright," he finally tells his son, "let's go get us some breakfast, then."
His day is heavy, weighed down by the knowledge that in a few hours, Regina will willingly expose herself to whoever's stalking her every move with the intention of killing her. He understands, knows this is something she can't get away from, and that she has to cultivate the trust of the press and the people if she's to remain in office for the next three and a half years, but it still annoys him that this is happening, that they have yet to figure out who is actually feeding the killer the information to hack into their servers and harass Regina. There haven't been any new emails in over four days, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's over, whoever this person is, he's out there, biding his time before he attacks, and it makes Robin's blood boil that he hasn't found the bastard yet.
Unbelievably enough, he's thankful for Mal, for how angry she is at Regina's decision, and her lack of will to hide it. She spews harsh words at Gold and Ingrid, levels Ursula with a death stare when they walk past each other in the halls, and outright tells Regina she's being ridiculous in doing this, but the President in her comes out, and she remains strong, tells Mal she's doing this whether she likes it or not.
A thorough and trustworthy security team is assembled, small but effective, enough to keep an eye on the situation and not let anything or anyone suspicious get through to that dinner, but Robin is nervous nonetheless, Mal too, both of them fidgety as they ride in the car on their way to the Hilton. Regina's car follows theirs, flanked by police in motorcycles and another car full of Secret Service Agents just behind, with Emma and John as team leaders.
He goes in and starts putting everything in order, surveying the perimeter and making sure it's safe for Regina to come through. He hasn't seen her today, both of them too busy with their own preparations for the event to have time to themselves, but he gets a look at her when she finally enters, after walking the small steps to the main gate, while the paparazzi click away and blind everyone with their flashes.
She looks stunning (not that he's surprised), clad in a long navy gown that hugs her curves all the way down to just above her knees, where a ruffled skirt billows out to the floor. The neckline is low across her chest, exposing her collarbone and shoulders, with a tantalizing V that splits the straight line in the middle to give a glimpse of yet more of her beautiful skin. Her hair is swept to one side, gentle waves cascading along her left shoulder, and she looks wary, a little jumpy, but settles a bit when she finally sees him, a tender smile on her face as she makes her way to her table, David at her heels, sitting next to her with his wife.
Mal is walking around, studying the audience, so when the event finally starts, it is Robin who gets to walk Regina backstage, marveling at the view of her back, bare and enticing thanks to the low cut of her dress.
There's a moment, while they're waiting for the introductory speeches, where they're completely alone behind the curtain, covered in near darkness as all the lights have moved to focus on the crowd, and only one tiny bulb is left on where they are, dull enough in its gleam that it barely illuminates their features. Robin decides to take advantage of their newfound solitude, one finger ghosting over her shoulder as it moves down, until it hits the cap sleeve that wraps around her arm, and drags that down a little bit as well, positioning himself right in front of her, close enough for a whisper to be heard despite the noisy atmosphere on the other side of the stage.
"What are you doing?" she asks, but she's leaning into the touch, her arm seeking proper contact instead of the feather light passes of his fingers over her skin.
"You owe me kisses, Madam President," he answers, chancing a glance to either side of them (an action borne out of instinct even though he knows they're alone), and then he leans in and buries his nose in her neck, letting her scent wash over him as his hands settle on her waist and he lets out a husky You look amazing into her shoulder.
"Figured if you were going to be miserable tonight, the least I could do was make sure the view was worth it," Regina teases back, and he grins, moving up and caressing the bridge of her nose with the tip of his own. Her mouth is so close, so tempting.
"You're always worth it, Regina," he clarifies, pulling back a bit to look into her eyes, needing her to see how much he means that. She smiles fondly at him, and then it's she who shifts closer, meets his lips with hers in a kiss that warms him from head to toe, her tongue peeking out to lick at his upper lip, and he almost growls, because she knows how crazy it makes him when she does that.
"You're playing with fire, my love," he says seductively against her mouth.
"Shh," she admonishes, "we have two minutes before they call me up on stage, I suggest you use them wisely."
There are no cameras backstage, and the media is situated at the front of the room, listening to the comedian now speaking from the podium, people cheering as he mocks the cabinet and makes some joke or other at David's expense, and the white noise of the audience's laughter is loud enough to cover the moan that bubbles out of Regina when Robin crashes their mouths together again, hands venturing from her waist to her rear, kneading and groping as he brings her closer.
"Your arse is a sin in this dress," he tells her gruffly, sinking his teeth into her bottom lip and pulling it into his mouth again, loving the way she whimpers in return and wraps her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies flush against each other.
"I know," she says, breathless but smug as she turns around to give him ample view of it and, evil seductress that she is, grins when he grunts and grabs her around the waist, smacking her back against his chest and losing himself in the skin exposed by her sideswept hair.
"That feels good," she rasps, rolling her hips back and forth, rubbing against him as he kisses and kisses, devouring her neck with little licks and sucks and grazes of teeth.
"You're stunning," he tells her, turning her back around and letting her press him against the wall behind him, groaning when she assaults his jaw, bites his earlobe, and then kisses all the way down his throat and back up to his chin, nipping there as she brings her hands inside his jacket and rakes her nails up and down his sides over his shirt, making him shiver pleasantly.
"Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honor for me to be here tonight, and an even greater honor to introduce to you a woman with the most resilient of hearts, someone who strives to make our country great..."
David's voice is suddenly on the speakers, announcing Regina's entrance, and they instantly tear themselves away from each other, laughing quietly as Robin helps her fix her hair and offers his handkerchief, so she can clean the faint bits of lipstick still marring her skin after he kissed it all off. Regina's fingers dip into her cleavage when she's done wiping the smudges away, taking out a tiny tube of the same nude shade and reapplying it to her lips, cheekily pocketing the lipstick in his trousers afterwards and stepping back, turning this way and that for him to give her a final look.
"Okay?" she asks, wanting to make sure no evidence of what's just happened is visible to the masses. Robin can't see much with what little light they have, but the muted glow is enough for him to check her face and hair, and his hand darts out to her jaw, thumb wiping off one last smudge she didn't get with his handkerchief. She still looks a little flushed, but nothing that can be traced back to this little stint of indecorous activities.
"Perfect," he says, smirking at her, still riding the thrill of having snogged her here, where the eyes of the world are on her and they could've gotten caught at any moment.
"Don't be smug," she says, clearly seeing his self-satisfied smile for what it is, but she's smiling too, a coy, yet naughty little thing that tells him she liked this just as much as he did.
"...my friend, and our Commander in Chief, President Regina Mills!"
It's the end of David's short speech, and Regina's queue to step out to greet her audience, so with a final once-over, Robin gives her a thumbs up and watches her step through the small door and onto the stage, following just behind her and positioning himself to the side, with Mal covering the audience and Emma and John flanking the sides of the venue, a few other agents still by the entrance and a larger detail just outside, waiting for this thing to be over so they can take their President back to the safety of her residence.
The entire thing passes by faster than Robin would have thought. Regina gives a wonderful speech, is applauded by media and cabinet members alike, and politely greets all those who stop by her table, Gold at her side to ensure that her comments are appropriate and well received. There's an elegant meal made of gourmet dishes with names Robin can't pronounce, expensive wine accompanying the scrumptious offerings, and rich desserts that look like works of art, all of which adds to the grandeur of the event. There's a string quartet in one corner, playing classic, cheerful tunes, and the music is uplifting enough to keep the attendees in a good mood, the atmosphere light and easy.
Things seem to mellow out throughout the evening, formalities and politics discussions traded for a more casual approach and lighter conversation topics, and in a couple of hours they're setting everything in place to head back to the White House, the cars already waiting outside.
That's when everything goes horribly wrong.
He doesn't notice the danger at first, carries on with his duties the way he's supposed to and surveys the perimeter as soon as he steps outside, while Mal and John make way through the throng of spectators and paparazzi so that Regina can walk to the car. But then he spots a face in the crowd, a young man that he recognizes from a long time ago, the .35 millimeter he's aiming at Regina denoting his intentions.
Robin moves fast, but it feels sluggish now that time seems to have stood still.
Everything happens in slow motion, the screams of the crowd turning into some distorted, dull murmur, and it mixes eerily with the thunderous sound of the gunshot, fired by the suspect just as Robin jumps in front of Regina, shielding her from impact. He lands hard on the floor, his head hitting the asphalt with a nasty cracking sound.
He doesn't feel hurt, doesn't even register the blood until he sees it on Regina's hands when she crouches down in front of him.
"Mal, get her out of here!" he shouts with what strength he still has, though Mal is trying to wrestle Regina away from him before he even utters the words. All of a sudden time picks up speed again, accelerates harshly, and it's chaos. Police sirens are going off, lights flashing while panicked bystanders all run away in fear, Robin's fellow agents shouting orders at them and each other, trying to keep the unnerved crowd in check while they find the shooter.
Regina is still there, sobbing as she presses her hand to his wound, screaming at Mal, who's still trying fruitlessly to move her and get her to safety.
"No, you listen to me!" Robin hears her bark at the Dragon, "I am not leaving him!"
"Regina," he chokes, but the adrenaline has left him, and his voice is now too low to overcome the disaster that continues to unfold around them, the sirens getting louder as ambulances and police patrols get closer. He attempts to touch her instead, to reassure her that he'll be fine and insist that she get back to the residence, but then he finally registers the pain, sharp needles of it piercing through his arm when he tries to raise it.
"Dammit just grab her and go! Now!" Mal snaps at someone, and then Regina is fiercely fighting the pair of hands that drag her away, John's face coming into view as he mumbles an apology, locks his grip around her and practically shoves her into the car despite her protests. Good, she'll be safe now, Robin assures himself before finally succumbing to the pain and exhaustion.
An image of her face is the last thing his mind conjures before darkness takes over.
The lights are on, he can feel their glare even through closed eyelids, and Robin braces himself for the pain, eyes opening just an inch so as not to take it in all at once.
His arm is heavily bandaged, so is the side of his head, which is pounding still from the blow it took against the pavement earlier. It takes him a few minutes to understand his surroundings, still groggy from whatever meds they gave him. He's back at the White House, in the same bed of the medical wing his son had been in barely a week ago. Someone's changed him out of his suit, his trousers and blood-soaked shirt discarded in favor of a thin, papery hospital gown that rustles loudly when he moves.
The lamps make him wince despite his efforts to dim their brightness, and he blinks slowly, groaning at the sharp pain that explodes in pinpricks across his head.
"Took you long enough," a bored voice says from beside him, and he turns to find Mal there, sitting on the chair next to his bed and looking at him like he's an idiot.
What the bloody hell happened? he wants to ask, even though he knows the gist of it, he was there, after all, but he wasn't conscious for the aftermath, and he needs to know. Mal, it seems, can predict his question even though his throat is too scratchy to voice it.
"GSW to the upper arm," she informs him promptly, "leave it to you to get shot right on an area not protected by your vest." She rolls her eyes, shaking her head at him, but her exasperation doesn't faze him, and he waits for more details. Mal sighs at his expectant stare, and continues.
"The bullet destroyed some tissue and damaged an artery, you lost a lot of blood, which is why you passed out, but they patched you up and put you on a chopper. You've been out the whole time."
"How long...?" he rasps.
"Roughly twenty-four hours since you were brought back here."
A day. Not as bad as he thought, then. Good.
"What you did was stupid," Mal tells him then, but her tone lacks the judgment that usually colors it when she speaks to him. "But you saved her. Everyone's talking about it, there wasn't a lot of video footage since everyone ran off in a panic, but it hasn't stopped the press, they're having a field day harassing witnesses for details on your dashing rescue. You're a hero, Locksley."
"I didn't do it to be a hero."
"I know. You did it because you care," The Dragon acknowledges, "it's also the reason why I didn't give you any grief when I joined the team. I know you just want to keep her safe."
"How is she?" he asks then.
"Worried sick about you."
"But you told her I'm fine?" he urges, and Mal scoffs at him.
"Like that makes any difference. She's been pacing her office like a madwoman, keeps asking when she can come see you. If she wasn't taking care of your son, I'm pretty sure she'd be here, shoving me out the door."
"Roland knows I was hurt?"
"Well it's not like we could keep this from him, could we? The shooting was all over the news and his father didn't come home, he figured it out. Honestly, he's five, not an idiot."
"Is he alright?" Robin asks, ignoring her rude remarks.
"He didn't take it very well," Mal says then, her voice softer than before. "It wasn't until Regina told him you were okay that he stopped crying," she explains, and Robin feels like shit.
He remembers what it felt like with Marian, the torture of not knowing what was happening, not getting clear information about her status until it was too late, and he hates himself for putting his son through similar pain.
"Don't do that," Mal interrupts when he shakes his head at himself, "you were doing your job, and you're fine. Your kid knows that, Regina knows that, and now we have the shooter in custody, so this won't happen again."
"He's not the one we should be worried about," Robin tells her then, remembering.
"Excuse me? He tried to kill the President of the United States!" she replies, baffled.
"Yes, and by all means, throw him in jail for it as soon as possible, but he's not the one orchestrating all this."
Robin sees the look of comprehension dawn on her face as she states, "You know him."
"Not exactly, but I know who he works for. Sidney Glass."
Her eyes widen at that, disbelieving at first. "Are you sure?" she asks, perplexed.
"Yes, I'm sure. This man you caught, his name is Percival, he used to be part of Sidney's security detail back in Maine before Regina fired him. I'll bet you anything that lowlife bribed or blackmailed him into doing this."
"I'll let the team know and see what information this guy has on Glass," she says, standing up to leave. Robin watches her go, but she's only taken three steps before she stops, turning to him before reaching the doorframe, looking curiously back at him.
"You're in love with her, aren't you?" she asks then, her voice low.
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. You love her."
"That's ludicrous," Robin says vehemently, but Mal only rolls her eyes and walks back to his bed, towering above him as she fixes him with the most accusatory stare and brandishes a familiar looking lipstick in front of his face.
"Paramedics found this in your pocket, and I know it's Regina's because I gave it to her, so don't even try to deny it."
"So?" he asks nonchalantly, "She was going on stage and didn't have anywhere to store it, I offered to-"
"Oh, cut the crap, Locksley. What you did wasn't out of concern or duty, it was out of love. I see the way you two look at one another. The way she ran to you and was so adamant about you being taken care of before she even thought of getting herself to safety. You're lucky everyone mistook that for a show of concern, but I know better." That judgy quality to her voice is back, as if daring him to defy her.
"Don't get me wrong," she adds before he can speak, "I think it's wonderful for Regina to find love again, I really do, but you can't just take bullets for her forever, Locksley."
"I would gladly give my life to protect her," he protests, and The Dragon rolls her eyes again.
"Yes, well, that's very brave of you, but you're not good to her dead," she snaps, exhaling an exasperated breath before she speaks again, and this time her tone is softer.
"She's lost love before, I don't want her to lose it again, so instead of trying to get yourself killed, what we need to do is find out who the hell is helping Glass from within and end this."
"You're right," he concedes, and she nods before making her way to the door again, finally leaving him alone in the room.
"Daddy?" he hears his son's timid voice a few minutes later, just as he'd been starting to close his eyes to try and sleep. He's wide awake now, a gigantic smile on his face as Roland comes bounding in, Ashley trailing just behind.
"There's my big, strong boy!" he exclaims, offering his good arm for him to climb onto the bed and hug him. Roland is fresh from his shower, and Robin breathes him in, taking comfort in the clean, baby powdery scent of him, with hints of the blackberry fragrance of the shampoo he tends to favor, and finally he's able to relax and let go of his worries. He's safe. He's home.
"I'll give you two a moment," Ashley says then, resting a hand on Robin's good shoulder as she adds a heartfelt, "I'm so glad you're okay."
He nods at her, rests his hand over hers while Roland continues to cry into his chest, and Ashley gives the boy a gentle pat on the back before she makes her way outside, promising to wait however long it takes for father and son to talk.
"Daddy the lady on the TV said a bad guy hurt you with a gun!" his son croaks after his nanny has left, still in tears when he parts from his embrace and sits up on the bed.
"Just a scratch, nothing to worry about," Robin tells him, smiling and gingerly moving the sleeve of his hospital gown up enough for him to see the bandages around his arm and poke at them. The boy does so, curiously peering over the wrapped wound and touching it, sometimes with a little too much force, but Robin does his best not to wince, wanting his son to be reassured that he's okay.
"Regina was crying, and I got scared," he insists.
"I know, Roland, but I'm fine, I promise. No one is ever going to take me away from you," Robin vows, tightening his hold on his son and kissing the top of his head as Roland clings to him with all his might, his sobs finally starting to subside.
The boy falls asleep on his chest in minutes, his fears draining out of him and giving way to his exhaustion, knocking him out and making him snore into his father's neck. Robin doesn't mind, takes a few minutes to just hold his son and feel him alive and breathing against him. He knows the wound wasn't that big a deal, and he'd been wearing a vest under his suit when it all happened, so if the bullet had hit his chest or ribs or stomach in what would've been a deathly blow, he still wouldn't have been in any danger, but the reality of the threat still crushes him, the knowledge that his son could've lost a father weighing heavily on his conscience. He cannot frighten Roland like that ever again. Mal's right, they have to end this.
"I'm gonna take him up to the room," a gentle whisper interrupts his thoughts, and Robin finds Ashley suddenly by his bed, looking down at them. He nods his agreement, and then the young woman hugs him, her voice shaky as she berates, "You're like a dad to me, too, you know? You scared the hell out of me, stop doing that."
"I'll try," he vows with a smile when she lets go, and Ashley smiles back before gathering Roland in her arms and hoisting him up and out of the bed, pressing him against her body and rocking him from one side to the other even though he doesn't wake.
"Get some rest, okay? I'll bring him by with breakfast tomorrow," she tells him, and then disappears out the door, his son still sleeping peacefully.
The discomfort in his arm wakes him in the middle of the night, and upon looking at the clock on his bedside table, he realizes he's been asleep for about six hours. Dawn should be arriving soon.
A broken gasp startles him, and he jerks his head to the side to find Regina there, standing by the entrance of the room. He'd known she was okay, that she hadn't been hurt, but for some reason seeing her there, alive and well, has immeasurable relief flooding through him, and he exhales heavily, hasn't even finished gasping out her name when she's already throwing herself half on top of him on the bed, sobbing into the crook of his neck.
He brings a hand to her head, cradling it to him, kisses her hair and consoles her in low whispers while she continues to weep into the cotton T-shirt he'd changed into after Roland and Ashley left him.
"It's okay, my love," he tells her, and, "I'm fine, it's alright."
She doesn't seem to register his reassurances, however, and only grips him tighter, snuggles even closer, and Robin flinches when the action jostles his bandaged arm and a little stab of pain shoots through it. It's nothing he can't handle, and he tries to tame his body's reaction to it, but Regina notices, pulls back and hovers a hand over the wound.
"Oh god, I'm sorry, does it hurt? Do you need anything?" she rambles, and Robin can only grin at her, his eyes soft as they stare into hers.
"What?" Regina asks, confused.
"Nothing, just... I love when you're concerned about me," he answers as he sits them both up a little straighter, and then takes her lips with his own before she can say anything. The kiss is sweet, nothing too heated or fast, just a deep, loving exchange to ground themselves in each other as they so often do.
She pulls away first, but only so she can shift her body over his and drop a kiss on his wound over the bandages, and then rises to land another on his forehead, her lower lip trembling as she looks him over, and all of a sudden there are tears again, falling heavily down her cheeks as she just looks and looks at him.
"Regina," he tries, but she shakes her head furiously, stops him even as she continues to cry.
"Why the hell did you do that?! You could've died!" she protests.
"I told you I would protect you."
"Not like this, you won't! I won't let you," she fires back.
"Why?"
"Because I love you, you big moron!"
And there it is.
He's... shocked, to say the least. Out of all the times and ways he'd been expecting to hear those three wonderful words from her, this is probably the last scenario Robin would've conjured.
Which makes it even better.
He's beaming in seconds, looking at her with bright eyes and chuckling his happiness, and somewhere in the back of his mind he regrets that there aren't cameras inside the medical wing, he would've liked to have video record of this moment.
"Had I known it would take a bullet for you to finally say those words, I would've jumped in front of a gun a lot sooner," he jokes, trying to get her to laugh and take part in this most joyous of moments, but she's still crying, and he cannot resist the urge to cup her cheek in his hand and bring her in close, peppering kisses all over her face in an attempt to calm her down, his heart soaring with the rippling echo of what's just transpired.
"I love you, too," he chokes out, "more than I can ever say, and I'll do everything I can to keep you safe."
"I never realized it would come to this," she says, her voice breaking, "I can't let you put your life on the line for me. What if this happens again? What if Sidney finds me and you die trying to save me? I cannot let that happen."
"Regina-" he tries, but she cuts him off.
"No, Robin! Promise me you won't do that again," she demands.
"Don't ask me to make a promise I can't keep," he tells her, his voice calm despite her desperation. A fresh wave of tears leaks from her eyes when she hears his answer, and she takes a deep breath and prepares herself to speak.
"Then I guess I'll just have to keep it for you," she informs him as she leaves the bed and stands at the foot of it, facing him.
"Robin Locksley," she starts, speaking in her formal tone of Commander in Chief as she declares, "as President of the United States, I am stripping you from your position as Head of the Secret Service. From now on, you'll be handling Vice President Nolan's security, your title will be given to Agent Swan, and you are hereby ordered to remain within the residence at all times until this threat has been neutralized."
"Wait, what?! No."
"It's my turn to keep you safe now," she explains in a shaky voice.
"Please, don't do this," he pleads, desperate.
"I'm so sorry," she says, backing out of the room in tears.
"Regina, please!" he insists, calling for her a few more times and begging her to reconsider, to stay here with him so they can talk about this...
The click of her heels echoes in the room as she continues to walk away, his desperation growing as he calls after her over and over.
Regina doesn't turn back.