Ok, so, apologies this took way longer than expected but I have been rather busy as of late (moving house is so freaking tiring) and my beta - Sammy - has been really busy too. So my deepest apologies for that.
I have started Uni again (had the introduction lecture today) and so updates may be even less frequent now - even deeper apologies - but I assure you I'll work on it as much as I can :)
So drop a review if you like, they make my day.

But on another note... last night's episode was crazy! Such a myriad of emotions. I was barely able to handle it!
xXx

As she lay battered and bruised, as pale as the sheets she was covered with, Regina looked nothing like the great and terrible Queen that she had once built a reputation as. She looked young, peaceful and so very human.

Her left hand had been slathered with creams and wrapped in bandages to prevent the infection of the broken skin, and the other was laid across her chest, as her newly mended shoulder was put in a sling.

Sometime during the few hours that the healer had been working on her injuries, the sun rose and began to cast a glow across the room. The light illuminated Regina's soft features, with her eyelashes casting shadows on her cheeks.

The doctor that Snow and Charming had called, upon seeing a limp Regina cradled to Robin's chest, had treated the Queen with the utmost respect. The man, whose name was Edwardson, kept his touch gentle whenever possible, and he had insisted that someone close to Regina redressed her—put her into something not quite as constricting as her corset—before he started working. Robin had stolen one of his Merry Men's buttoned shirts for the Queen to wear. It almost drowned Regina; the hem fell to her mid-thigh and the cuffs had to be rolled up several times to reveal her hands, but Robin thought she looked stunning in anything.

Even when she had dark bruises marring her cheek and her wrists and her neck, dark hair curling around her temple where the blood had been cleansed away, Robin still thought that she was the most beautiful woman in the castle—no, in entire the kingdom.

The doctor had rattled off a list of her injuries, ranging from bruises to a dislocated shoulder to a concussion to fractured bones. But those injuries were common, they were treatable; the group wasn't tooworried about those wounds.

No, the things that worried them the most were the uncanny marks etched into Regina's torso; a green pattern in shapes that were incredibly similar to those of lightning strikes, that spread from her hipbone up to the underside of her breast, and every so often the marks glowed and shone through the thin material of the borrowed shirt and Regina's stomach muscles contracted.

"Can you heal her?" asked Snow as she pulled up a chair from beside Regina's dresser and placed it next to the bed.

"I can heal some of the wounds, the majority of these cuts and bruises, her shoulder, her ribs," the doctor answered, before his gaze turned solemn. "But I'm afraid I don't know the extent of the magical damage. And that I cannot heal."

Snow's eyes snapped to Edwardson's. "But she'll be okay?" she asked worriedly, "Won't she?"

"I'm honestly not certain, your highness," he replied, "I haven't dealt with many magical injuries, and certainly not ones as severe as these. I'm afraid my medical knowledge does not include wounds inflicted by powerful sorcerers."

"She's a fighter," Snow stated, determination in her voice as she reached forward and took Regina's left hand in hers.

Charming moved to stand to the side of his wife, reaching down to place a comforting hand on the back of Snow's neck. "That she is," he said confidently, "You know Regina, she'll pull through."

"I'm glad you have faith," the doctor started, "but I'm afraid it would be unwise for me to give false hope. The Queen may be a very powerful woman, but from what I've heard, this 'Wicked Witch' is equally as strong, if not more so. I'd prepare yourselves for either outcome…at the moment, I can't say what is the most likely."

Snow's grip on Regina's hand tightened as she looked at her husband with pleading eyes.

"Is there nothing else you could do?" asked Charming.

The doctor shook his head, "I've done all I can." Edwardson took a final look at the three heartbroken faces before him and turned his expression to the floor, muttering a solemn, "I'm so sorry."

When a thud indicated that the doctor had truly left, Snow stood and wrapped her arms around her husband, softly crying into his shoulder. The prince rubbed a soothing hand up and down his wife's back. His sorrowful eyes left the Queen to take a look at Robin, who had not said a word beyond the "help"that he had greeted them with at their bedroom door.

Robin stood there; a blank expression and turmoil behind his eyes, a frown on his face as his the corners of his lips curled downwards. Charming didn't know what had been going on between the thief and the Queen, but he knew anguish when he saw it.

Charming placed a kiss on his wife's temple and whispered soothing words into her ear, his hands trailed from the base of her neck to the small of her back and then repeating in a fluid motion.

For a moment, Robin's eyes stopped scrutinising Regina's every injury and he looked up at the prince and princess. Their closeness and intimacy unintentionally made Robin feel like an intruder.

Knowing he needed to get back to his son—whom he had left with George as he personally saw to it that Regina was treated with the best care the kingdom could offer—Robin closed his eyes with a short sigh before he turned and walked towards the door. Sparing Regina one last glance, Robin twisted the handle and headed out into the corridor. The outlaw needed to get his thoughts sorted out before he got to his room and saw his little boy.

Robin's steps were slow and steady; one foot in front of the other, on auto-pilot as his mind whirred.

It was happening again; he was losing someone else.

It was doubtful that he would feel the same desperate desire to simply stop existing as he had when his beloved Marian had died, but Robin somehow knew that, if he were to lose Regina, his life would never be the same again. Which was inexplicable, because they were not—they weren't—together. It was just meant to be something light in the midst of a dark fight, a bit of fun to keep them both occupied from time to time.

But a feeling of dread that had settled in his stomach, from the moment his Roland had shouted that it was "majesty" lying unmoving on the castle grounds. It had Robin scared; if the threat of losing Regina made him feel this torn apart, then he prayed to every single god out there that he would never, ever lose her for real. He couldn't lose her.

Not his Queen. Not his Regina.

…

When Robin entered his room, the Merry Men, who had known—or had been told—that something was wrong, looked up at their leader. What they saw looked like the shell of a man; the permanent frown, the blank stare that somehow held so much pain, and the way that he looked at his son, like he was the only reason the thief was still standing on two feet.

They had seen this before, and their prayers to never see it again had apparently been ignored.

Robin stepped forward and knelt in front of his son, taking the boy from George's lap and into his own arms, holding him tightly. Robin's eyes closed as he breathed in Roland's comforting smell. The four men—George, Will, Friar Tuck and Little John—all stared at him with worried frowns.

"Is the Queen okay, papa?" Roland asked, his childish innocence made his father's eyes start tearing up. Robin didn't answer; he couldn't form the words. His features scrunched, as if he was one second away from crying, and he just held his boy tighter.

Will placed a hand on Robin's back, offering whatever support he could muster. George sat, staring down at the floor, whilst the other two watched with solemn gazes as their leader tried not to fall apart.

…

For the rest of the first day, Snow refused to leave Regina's side. She did nothing but sit in the chair she had settled beside the Queen, holding her hand, and every so often unnecessarily rearranging her stepmother's long hair, subconsciously twirling a few strands between her fingers.

Even with all of the bad history between them, their relationship was far past the "trying to kill each other" phase. They would never be best of friends; Snow knew this much. But that did not mean that she would ever stop reminiscing on the closeness they had once shared; the way that Regina would sit and braid her stepdaughter's hair, and sing lullabies when there was a terrible thunderstorm, and tell her bedtime stories when she had woken up in the middle of the night after a nightmare.

When she had lost her mother, Snow had never expected to welcome another person into the family like she had Regina. And once Snow let someone into her family—and her heart—they never stopped being family to her. No matter what happened between them.

"What were you thinking, Regina?" Snow asked the unresponsive Queen, knowing that she wouldn't get an answer, but desperate to hear something other than painful silence and the faint background noise of people moving around the castle. "Why would you go out alone when you knew that you'd be putting yourself in danger?"

Snow huffed, "But I guess that's just you, isn't it? You never really consider the consequences of you getting hurt—you just do what you want. Because you never back down from a fight, never."

The princess missed the sound of the door being pushed open and Robin taking two steps into the room, before he realised that Regina was not alone.

"But I also think that you don't care if you get hurt, because you believe that no one else does," acknowledged Snow, unaware of the presence behind her.

The princess shuffled forward on her chair and leaned toward Regina, "But let me tell you something, stepmother; people do care. I care, more than you would believe. And I promise, I will never stop caring for you, no matter what you do."

Once Snow had started, she couldn't stop—all her heartfelt words tumbled out of her mouth as if Regina was awake, imagining the Queen's unimpressed glare as she tried to imagine the quickest way out of a heart-to-heart with her former enemy.

Robin backed up toward the door, quietly edged out into the corridor and headed back to his room. He did not want to interrupt the princess. The irony was not lost on him that all Snow seemed to do was interrupt, but this was a private moment and the thief refused to ruin it.

Snow watched her fingers as she trailed patterns over the back of Regina's bandaged hand. "I know that you—and many others—don't understand why I would ever want to forgive you. But the truth is…I've already forgiven you; I forgave you ages ago, for everything you did.

"Because I understand now; I took everything away from you, your love, your happiness, your freedom. I just hope that, after everything… you can forgive me too."

Snow brought Regina's hand up, pressing a kiss to her knuckles with tears in her eyes.

"You're my family, Regina. I love you, and I need you in my life. Even if it's just to throw quick-witted insults and imagine the many ways in which you can poison Charming and I. Just… wake up. Please, Regina. For me."

…

The second day, Robin had not left his room. His men had come in, had pretended to be there to play with Roland, but in reality they had just wanted to see how their leader was faring. They offered some support, a few "everything will be fine" and "we're here if you need us" speeches.

But nothing really helped; Robin was still subdued, less vibrant, and he could just barely muster a few smiles for his son.

Regina was playing on his mind, still. Although instead of images of her body decorated with marks from his mouth, moaning, he saw visions of her decorated with cuts and bruises and crying out in pain.

Robin had not had an hour's sleep the previous night, and it was doubtful he'd get enough that night, either. But when Roland climbed into Robin's lap in the evening to calm down before bed, he felt just a bit more comforted than he had all day.

Roland shifted in his father's lap to look up at him. "Papa?" he asked tentatively.

"What is it, my boy?" Robin inquired as he dropped a kiss to the top of his head.

"Can I go see Majesty?"

Robin's heart skipped a beat. "Roland…"

"Please, papa?" pleaded the boy, looking at him with wide, innocent eyes.

"Roland, her majesty is injured," Robin explained. "And she's sleeping right now, she needs her rest to get better, and you're not one to be quiet, are you?"

"I'll be quiet as a mouse, papa. I promise," Roland assured, turning to fully face his father.

Robin lowered his voice, a warning "Roland," leaving his lips.

"Please, papa?" begged Roland. "Pretty please?"

Robin sighed, looking at his son and understanding the need to see the Queen. And if he was being honest, a visit was due on his part, anyway. "Alright, I suppose."

Robin stopped his son from jumping for joy with a gentle hand on the boy's shoulder, his voice turning solemn as he knelt down in front of him. "Roland, her majesty looks a bit different, alright? She's got a bruise on her cheek, and some bruises on her neck, and she's a bit pale—"

"Papa, I don't care," Roland insisted, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "I want to see majesty."

"Okay," Robin stood up and changed into clothing more suitable for walking around the castle, before he held his hand out for his son to take. He waited for a moment as Roland grabbed his stuffed monkey.

Muttering a "come on", Robin led them from their room.

As soon as they made it into Regina's chambers, Roland started to make a beeline for the Queen's bed, but he saw Snow sitting by it and stopped, looking to his father.

"It's fine," Robin assured him, "it's just Princess Snow."

Snow tried to talk to the boy, asked a couple of questions about how he was, but Roland was occupied with carefully climbing onto the bed, his attention fully on Regina.

Once he was sitting by Regina's hip with his legs crossed, he looked to Snow, timidly asking if Regina could hear him.

"I don't know, sweetie," Snow replied, "but I've been talking to her, you're welcome to talk to her too, if you'd like. I'm sure she'd love to hear your voice."

Roland took a deep breath, his features scrunching together adorably as he concentrated on what he wanted to say. "Majesty, Papa says you're poorly, and that you're sleeping so you can get better. When I'm poorly, Papa always stays with me until I'm better. But I can't stay with you too long because he says I'm too noisy and you need to rest." Roland lifted the white sheets on the right side of her and slid his stuffed monkey underneath, ensuring the toy was curled into Regina's arm, and both the Queen and the monkey were tucked in well—he was copying what his father did to him at bedtime. "So I asked Michael and he's going to take care of you when I'm not here. He'll protect you, like you protect me."

Snow looked at Robin, and he looked back at her, both of them with watery smiles.

Roland leaned back and turned so that he was perpendicular to the Queen. He slowly reached out and stroked Regina's hair, arranged so it covered half her torso. Roland held a large section in his hands, transferring the strands from his left hand to his right, one small piece at a time, and then back to his left again, humming a small tune as he did so. Robin recognised it as the same tune he had hummed when Roland had required soothing as a baby—Robin hadn't known that his son had actually remembered.

Robin walked over, sitting in the chair to the right of Regina, placing a hand on his son's back and rubbing soothing circles. His eyes were fixed on his son's actions, and Robin watched for several minutes, until his son was yawning more than he was humming.

When the boy's eyelids started to droop, Robin stood and moved to scoop Roland up into his arms, ready to go to bed. But Roland pushed his father's hands away and told him to wait another moment.

Robin and Snow looked on as Roland carefully crawled higher up the bed and placed a gentle kiss to Regina's forehead, whispering a sleepy "get better soon, majesty," before turning and holding his arms out to his father, so that he could carry him to bed.

…

The third day, Snow was still at Regina's bedside, and had slept and eaten very little. Word had gotten around that the Princess wasn't leaving the Queen's side and several people had become concerned.

One of these people was Granny, and as soon as she had heard that Snow wasn't taking proper care of herself, she had gone into the Queen's room, prepared to drag the girl out to eat something.

She was met with protests from the princess, as she had expected, but Granny would not take "no" for an answer.

"Granny, I'm fine," Snow insisted.

Granny put her hands on her hips with a declaration of, "You're coming with me."

Snow didn't make it past "I ca—" before Granny had stalked over and grabbed both of her hands, pulling her up from the chair.

"You're coming with me," The elder woman repeated, wrapping an arm around Snow's side and guiding her away from the Queen.

"I can't leave her," Snow argued, "I won't let her wake up alone."

Robin—who had heard the tail end of Snow's remarks from the doorway—stepped forward. "I'll stay with her," he said.

Both Snow and Granny turned to look at him with mild confusion, and he felt the need to clarify; "So that she won't wake up alone."

"Thank you," Snow said, although it was with slight trepidation; whilst she was thankful for Robin's offer of staying with Regina, it was not the same as staying there herself. And Snow wanted to be there for her stepmother.

"Don't worry," Robin started, addressing the princess, "I don't have anything to do for a while. Just go for fifteen minutes, get something to eat. She'll be here when you get back."

When Snow took a small step toward the door, Granny took advantage and pushed her

As soon as the two women walked past Robin, he made his way over and sat in Snow's chair, taking a moment to look over Regina, cataloguing her injuries; the redness of cuts were a little faded and the shade of the bruises that marred her beautiful features were just a little different.

Leaning forward, Robin took Regina's hand in his, feeling comforted by the warmth and the thrumming of her pulse under his fingertips.

"Alright," Robin started. "So I know Snow has been talking to you, and I know that you're probably growing tired of hearing people talk. But if you want me to stop, you're going to have to wake up and tell me yourself."

Robin chuckled; he didn't feel awkward talking to the sleeping Queen in the slightest. It made way for uninterrupted conversation, although it felt too quiet when there was no retort from Regina's lips.

"You need to wake up. And without meaning to sound sentimental—because I'm not—I suppose the only way to explain this is that I miss you. And some of the things you do." Robin's gaze became unfocused as he continued with a small smile, "The fire in your eyes when you're angry, that little twitch in the corner of your lips when you're trying not to smile, the witty insults that keep everyone on their toes…"

Robin swallowed as he watched his fingers play over the back of Regina's hand, "Everything seems so dull without you stirring up trouble. And I miss the…the rest of it too."

His thoughts continued as he remembered skin on skin, moans in his ear, and his name escaping red lips in a pleasured sigh.

Moving closer, Robin held onto Regina's hand tighter, his eyes fluttering shut. "I know I'm just a thief and that you're the Queen. And I know that you don't take orders from anyone. But just this once, just listen to me and wake up. Please."

When Robin opened his eyes, he felt his heart sink when there was no sign of any change. He didn't really know what he was expecting; it was obvious that a simple plea wasn't going to work. Regina Mills kept to her own schedule. But there was a glimmer of hope in Robin's heart that, just maybe, he might have been enough to get through to her.

Before the outlaw could say anything else, the door opened and Snow hastily entered. Robin saw her face deflate at the lack of change in Regina's condition.

Snow started making her way in Robin's direction to reclaim her seat by Regina's bedside. Standing from the princess' chair, Robin reluctantly gave up the warmth and comfort of Regina's hand, letting go with a gentle squeeze. Robin received a grateful smile laced with a touch of something he couldn't decipher.

When Robin got back to his room, he made conversation with his men as he sat and held his son, until they eventually left when it was time for the Roland to go to bed.

Robin collapsed back onto his own bed as soon as Roland was tucked in and his breathing had evened out. The outlaw was asleep in minutes.

When he awoke more than an hour later, he looked over to his son's bed and saw nothing but crumpled sheets. Sitting up in mild panic, Robin looked around the room and tried to pick out his boy's shadow. He saw nothing.

Practically flinging himself out of bed, Robin grabbed the nearest shirt and trousers, donned them, and raced into the hallway. He checked each of his Merry Men's chambers for Roland and once again found nothing.

Dread took hold of Robin and he looked around, searching for any sight of his son.

No… not him too.

Robin racked his brain for any place his son might be, flitting from his room—he had checked there, and checked his men's rooms. He considered the dining hall – Roland would never have gone there; it was too far away and there was nothing there at this time of night.

Clenching his fists, a wave of unnecessary anger washed over him; he had taught his son better than to have him disappear without telling anyone where he was going. And he would never run off in the middle of the night; every time Robin had ever watched Roland sleep, the boy had been curled up around his toy with his thumb in his mouth and a very slight smile at the corners of his mouth.

His toy. The monkey. Regina. Of course.

As fast as he could, Robin made his way to Regina's chambers, desperately hoping his son would be there. He had to be.

When Robin threw the door open without a care for those inside who may have been sleeping, he almost collapsed in relief when he saw his son, safe and sound. He was lying on Regina's bed, his head over her heart, his thumb in his mouth and his other hand tangled in Regina's dark hair, sleeping peacefully.

Granny was sitting in the secondary chair placed by the bed, knitting a scarf of some sort, occasionally glancing at the young boy. Snow was on the other side, hunched over with her hand over Regina's, deep in sleep.

"Your son came in about half an hour ago," Granny informed Robin without looking up, "he climbed up to lie beside the Queen and was asleep within minutes."

"Thank you," Robin replied, walking over to smooth a hand over his son's hair, finally finding humour in the whole situation instead of utter terror.

It appeared that his son had a soft spot for the Queen.

Robin scoffed with a wry smile.

Like father, like son.

…

The fourth day, Robin spent half an hour on the forest grounds finding flowers suitable for a bouquet for the Queen. When the bunch of flowers became too large for him to hold in one hand, Robin made his way back to the castle, stopping off for an ornate vase before he reached Regina's chambers.

He didn't bother to knock; Regina was still not awake to tell him if he wasn't welcome, and until he saw her alive and well, he would not stop coming in every once in a while to just sit by her side, usually whilst Snow was ushered off for some food.

Regina would not wake up alone.

When Robin entered the Queen's chambers, he was disheartened to find Snow rearranging a bouquet that she had brought in. Twice the size of his, and twice as colourful, Robin looked down at the bunch of flowers in his hand and let out a small sigh.

Snow turned around and let out a small, surprised yelp. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you."

"Sorry," said Robin as he turned back toward the door, "I'll just—"

"Stay," Snow called out at his back, continuing when he turned to face her, "It will be nice to have someone talking back to me."

They both let out a small laugh, but neither one really felt it; the joke was a bit too close to the truth for their liking.

Robin sat down on the chair on Regina's right, opposite Snow, placing his vase on the small bedside table beside him. He placed his hands on the Queen's duvet so his knuckles brushed her covered waist, occasionally grasping the sheets and then releasing. He wrung his hands in an effort to refrain from running his fingers through her hair. If she woke up, Robin would do that a lot more often—no, when she woke up. Regina dying was not an option.

The duo made small talk; the happenings in the castle, the antics of the Merry Men, the lack of anything from Zelena—making the two wonder who had come out of the fight in the worst condition. It wasn't long before their conversation turned to Regina; how ironically peaceful she looked, how boring the palace seemed to be without her, the fact that most people actually seemed to be distressed that the Queen's fate was hanging in the balance.

Snow observed Robin during a lull in the conversation, contemplation gracing her features as the outlaw looked upon the Queen with an expression she could definitely name, and had seen many a time before.

"Robin," Snow tentatively started, taking a breath before she asked, "What's going on between the two of you?"

"Forgive me, but if anything was going on," Robin started, his tone gentle but firm, "I don't think it is your right to know."

"No, I understand. Of course. I just…" Snow took a deep breath as she started playing with the edge of her sleeves, tugging at a loose thread. "Regina's lost so much, too much. And I don't want her to gain anything, just to lose it again."

"I've no intention of hurting her, Snow," Robin assured.

"It doesn't matter if you intend to or not, sometimes you try to do right and…" Snow voice trailed off as she looked back down at her hands. "It's always Regina who loses in the end."

Robin regarded the princess with a pensive glance. "You sound as if you're speaking from experience."

Snow was not really thinking about who she was talking to, too lost in the memory of their past as she wiped away a tear, confessing, "It's because of me that she lost the love of her life."

Robin was torn between asking for more information—wanting to know about Regina's history with Snow and hoping to understand her better—or staying quiet and respecting Regina's privacy, knowing she wouldn't want him to know anything she hadn't told him herself.

The choice was made for him when Snow changed the topic, coming to her senses as she looked up and saw the thief struggling to make a decision. "So," she diverted, "when did you two stop trying to kill each other and start being friendly? It's almost as if you actually like each other."

Robin scoffed, he couldn't actually pinpoint the moment when he realised that Regina was more than just a royal pain in the arse.

Snow misunderstood the outlaw's scoff for denial. "What? You like her. And I know she likes you."

"Do you?" Robin asked, before releasing a small chuckle. "It's quite difficult to tell with Regina at times."

"No, it's not," Snow gently insisted. "She may put up all these masks, but her eyes give her away. And it's the way she looks at you; you're one of the few people she doesn't look at like she's trying not to murder them."

Robin chuckled, remembering argument after argument from his first few months at the castle with Regina. "You obviously haven't seen us enough."

"I have," Snow admitted. "I have seen enough."

Robin looked at her questioningly. "What?"

"I saw you, the other day, in the council chamber." Robin sat up straight and looked slightly embarrassed, the first thing coming to mind about that meeting was Regina's exquisite torture. And if Snow saw that…he'd have some explaining to do, surely.

But Robin was extremely grateful when Snow carried on and didn't seem to imply she saw anything too intimate. "I saw you two talking, you were…standing really close together, and Regina had this smile on her face that I've rarely seen before."

Robin looked confused at the small smile appearing on Snow's face. "What are you saying?" he asked gently.

Snow took a breath and tugged on the piece of thread again. "I know it's not my place to pry…"

"No, it isn't," Robin responded; he was not going to spill any secrets to Snow about what he and Regina had. He wasn't exactly sure what it was himself.

"I was just wondering—I mean, I just—" Snow stuttered, before taking a moment to phrase her question. "What do you want from Regina?"

Robin was taken aback at her question; it was the exact phrase he had spoken to George just days earlier—when he had told him to be careful. "Excuse me?"

"Look, Regina, she's…she's been hurt, by so many people, including me. I just want to make sure that you don't hurt her," She's quiet for a moment and he sees Snow's posture straighten, determination in her eyes, "because there are people who care about her, more so than she believes. And if she gets hurt because of your actions, you should hope I don't find you first. Alright?"

Robin sat back in his seat, slightly anxious at the sweet and precious princess speaking with such a thinly-veiled threat in her voice. Snow obviously cared a lot for Regina, and would do all she could to ensure that the Queen didn't have her heart broken.

Robin could identify with that.

Offering a small smile, Robin met Snow's eyes and responded with a simple, "Alright."

Snow, apparently satisfied, switched the conversation to the topic of his son in the blink of an eye, throwing Robin off completely and making him just a bit more aware that the princess was not one to be trifled with.

After a while, their conversation was interrupted by the mutual rumbling of their stomachs.

"I'll go get us something to eat," Robin said as he stood from his seat, stretching one way and then the other to ease the stiffness in his muscles from sitting in the same position for too long. "I need to go and put my son to bed, too. I didn't realise how late it was getting."

Snow turned to look out the balcony behind her, taking in the navy sky in slight surprise; time had run away with her as well.

"Okay," she softly replied, before adding with a wry smile, "I'll be here."

Robin huffed and left with a glance back at Regina, mentally promising her, "I won't be long."

When Robin returned around half an hour later, he stood outside of the door wondering how to perform the simple task of opening and shutting a door with a full plate of food in each hand. Balancing the plates on his palms, Robin pushed down on the handle with his elbow before kicking the door open with his foot, and closing it in the same manner. He smiled, somewhat proud of his small victory.

Robin was preparing to call out to Snow, but he halted when he saw her fast asleep, hunched over the bed with her hair splayed over the cream duvet. Robin smiled and sat down in his chair at the opposite side of Regina's bed. He ate everything he had brought for himself and everything perishable he had brought for Snow, before he placed both plates on the table beside him, next to his flowers.

For the first time since this ordeal, Robin spent the night by Regina's side, comforted in the knowledge that Little John would be taking care of Roland if he wasn't back by bedtime.

The outlaw fell asleep to the image of Regina, happy, healthy and beaming at him in his mind. The smile on his face tugged on the corner of his lips, even in dreams.

It was the best night of sleep he'd had in four days.

…

The fifth day, Charming walked in the room to find Snow on one side of Regina, with Robin on the other. Gently waking his wife, David ushered Snow out of the room, ordering her to get a change of clothes and something to eat. The prince shushed Snow when she announced –rather loudly—that she would be back soon, and was only leaving because it was her husband who had asked. They left Robin alone and asleep.

The two shared dinner together, and Charming refused to leave his wife alone until she had eaten something substantial. When Snow attempted to persuade Charming to believe that she would get some fresh clothes later—pointing out that if Robin was asleep Regina would still technically wake up alone—the prince offered to check on her while she changed. Snow had given in, albeit reluctantly, and had watched Charming go as he passed their chambers on the way to Regina.

Walking into the Queen's chambers, Charming expected the thief to still be asleep. But Robin was sitting in Snow's chair, changing the bandages on Regina's hand.

David watched as Robin held Regina's hand in his, wrapping the bandage slowly, ensuring the edges weren't folded over or twisted, and picking off any noticeably frayed edges. Charming noted the fierce tenderness with which Robin treated Regina and knew that his wife had been right about the two when she had told him over lunch.

Charming cleared his throat, alerting Robin to his presence before he sat down in the chair Robin had been in earlier. He waited for a few moments, until Regina's hand was cleanly covered and was once again resting by her side, with Robin's hand resting on top.

Opening and closing his mouth several times, David wasn't sure of how to approach the topic of Regina. But if Robin didn't want to discuss anything, then he wouldn't; it didn't matter what was used as a conversation opener. And so David dived straight in with, "Are you in love with her?"

Robin paused in his action of lightly trailing his fingers over the new bandage, looking up at the prince with alarmed eyes. "What?"

"Regina," Charming clarified. "Are you in love with her?"

Robin sighed, bringing a hand to rub at his forehead. "Has Snow been talking to you?"

"She mentioned it in passing," Charming confessed. It was the main topic of their conversation at lunch, Snow had been wondering if she had been a little too forward in her warning to Robin, and then was unsure if she had warned him enough. David had remained quiet and let his wife talk, offering a listening ear and his opinion when she asked for it, not willing to interrupt her tirade.

"I don't see how that's any of her business to talk about," Robin grumbled, placing both his hands in his lap.

"Snow's a sharer," David explained. "She likes to talk to everyone about everything."

Robin looked up, slightly panicked, "She can't tell—"

"No," Charming interrupted. "Snow knows this isn't her secret to share."

Robin sighed. "Good, because it isn't."

A moment passed before Charming spoke again; "So…are you? In love with her, I mean. I doubt it's an easy position to be in."

"I don't—I'm—" Robin stuttered, his mind whirring as he tried to work out the answer himself. He had an uncertain expression on his face when he settled on, "No. No, I'm not in love with her."

David sat back in his chair with his arms folded. "I'm sensing there's a 'however'," prompted Charming gently.

"I don't know. It's…complicated," Robin said, looking at Regina and frowning. "I can't explain it."

"I get the appeal. Believe me, I do," Charming admitted. "But just…treat her well."

The thief looked up at the prince with furrowed eyebrows. The shock of the man—and his wife—telling Robin to look after Regina, after all the history between them, took him aback. Robin resigned himself to the idea that he'd probably never understand the relationship between the three of them at all.

"Has she always been like this?" Robin asked, nodding towards Regina. "Putting herself in harm's way?"

David chuckled. "Regina is not one to back down from a fight. That much has been clear from the moment I met her."

Robin looked down to Regina—still asleep, no movement, cuts and bruises prominent on her skin. "Well, she's not fighting enough at the moment."

"There's not much for her to fight for anymore," Charming acknowledged with a solemn frown. "She's lost a lot."

Robin's voice was slightly hoarse when he replied, "Yes, Snow said something like that."

"Snow is worried for her," Charming stated. "And I'm worried for Snow. I dread to think how she would be if Regina…"

The silence after David's voice trailed off was deafening; the possibility of Regina not actually pulling through became even more real.

"If I may, what's the story between those two?" Robin gently asked, prepared for Charming to be as reluctant to disclose history as he had been with Snow.

"Between Snow and Regina?" Charming asked, having lost his train of thought as images of his wife, heartbroken by Regina's possible death, swam through his head.

"Yes. I mean, from what I've heard, Regina spent years of her life hunting down Snow, as apparently she ruined her life. But now, Snow is hardly leaving her bedside and Regina is doing everything in her power to keep your child safe," mused Robin as his brows furrowed, his lips pressing together in a straight line. "I don't understand how relationships can go from one extreme to the other like that."

"It's not my story to tell," David started, and Robin nodded in understanding. "And if I'm being completely honest, I don't know most of it, anyway. It took me a while to get the real truth out of Snow."

"Of course," Robin said, preparing to drop the topic and try to move to something less saddening altogether.

"There's a lot of darkness," said Charming suddenly.

Robin prickled at the thought of the prince warning him off of Regina because of her past; she was not that anymore, and even if she was, there was a lot more to her than just an overly harsh monarch. "I know the stories of the Evil Queen."

Charming sighed. "That's not what I'm talking about."

"Than what are you saying?" Robin inquired, his eyes meeting the prince's.

"Her story is…" Charming struggled for a few seconds to find the right word, "sorrowful, tragic really."

"Oh," Robin felt his heart drop. He knew that Regina hadn't had the best life, but to hear that her life had been "sorrowful" and "tragic" set a heavy weight in his chest.

"I'm not sure what she's told you, or what she's willing to tell you," said David. "Most of what I know is from Snow, or what Regina has let slip when she's angry or upset and not really thinking about what she's saying."

Robin looked over to Regina, and from the emotions in his eyes, David came to the realisation that, just maybe, Robin could be exactly what the Queen needed; someone who would stand up to her, support her, and care for her, and all at the same time.

"My point is, just look after her." Robin looked up at Charming, nonplussed. "Make sure she knows you're there, but give her whatever space she needs. I know that Regina wouldn't want to hurt you, but she has this defence mechanism and she pushes people away to keep them safe," David swallowed, levelling his gaze at the man before him. "If you care for her, don't stand for it."

Robin nodded, declaring a determined, "I won't."

Both men shared a small smile before the door opened and Snow and Granny strolled in, deep in conversation. Charming rose from his seat and walked over to the two women, leaving Robin sitting by the Queen.

With a reluctant sigh, Robin realised it was due time he returned to his son; he had been spending a fair bit of time away from the boy as late and he was beginning to miss him.

Robin lifted her hand to his lips, brushing his stubble over her knuckles briefly before he stood up. On impulse, Robin leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to Regina's forehead, smoothed a hand over her hair, then turned away.

Walking to the exit, Robin passed the trio with a curt nod, turning sideways in order to slip through the slightly ajar door and so as not to bump Granny by opening it further.

Robin—or the others—didn't see the way some colour returned to Regina's cheeks, or the way her eyelashes fluttered or the way her fingers twitched, feeling the phantom brush of lips against her knuckles.