The Escort

by audreyslove

Robin, a man still mourning the loss of his late wife, refuses to date. But he feels the need to feel close to another warm body, so he hires an escort. Unexpected warm feelings ensure during their meeting. Modern AU. Rating will change.

11. Chapter 11

A/N: Recently I've been informed that this story is in violation of FFN's rules, and if I don't fix the errors (the "mature content"), a group of members going by the name of Critics United will mass report me for deletion. With this in mind, I will be moving the unedited version to a site that allows mature content — archive of our own {dot} org . I have the same user name there. I will attempt to edit the story here on FFN so it confirms with the guidelines, but that's going to take significant edits to Chapter 6 and future chapters. So AO3 is going to be the place to be for this story in its original form. I urge you guys to follow me there. If you need an account and want an invite to the site (you can still read and review as a guest, however!) please Dm your email to OQAO3 on twitter.

Now for fic related stuff: I am so sorry for the incredibly long wait. I've had a hectic few months, but thank you so much for sticking with me. I hope you all enjoy this chapter. Thanks to Jen, Bea, Hannah, Allison for all the help and suggestions with this chapter. You guys are the best.

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Isaac requests a two hour session on Friday night.

It works perfectly with Henry's soccer practice, especially since Jonathan's dad offers to take them out to pizza and ice cream afterwards.

Mal books the room for her, as she always does. Regina pays her back in cash, so there's no record of credit card statements showing several nights away at local hotels. It would... raise suspicion, to say the least.

Another independent will come in to use the room later that night, Mal warns. That saves Regina money, and that girl too. They work together. Split things.

Regina knows the agency would take issue with this arrangement if they ever found out, considering Mal is, quite frankly, helping the competition by assisting with these rooms. But Mal knows how to be discreet, and there is a slight bit of camaraderie between the company girls and the independent ones. Regina doesn't necessarily have the protection that the company girls do (or the schedule, freedom is exactly why she avoids agencies) but they look out for one another, share problem clients, recommend clients to one another occasionally…

So despite being competition, things aren't as… adversarial… as one might think.

At least, not with the girls.

Now Ingrid, their Madam… that's another story. However, Ingrid would rather her clients have an occasional romp with Regina than running off to another rival agency. She's a dalliance he may indulge in once every month or two, but he's unlikely to quit using the agency entirely — though he might, for a time, if Regina gives him what he wants.

Speaking of that, Isaac has been… specific. He wants her to dress in a "barely passable" business outfit with sexy lingerie underneath.

And she knows sexy means "trashy".

So she reaches into her Fredericks of Hollywood drawer of lingerie — the one hidden on a high shelf in her closet — and grabs the lace shelf bra with the electric blue satin.

It's not really a bra, if a bra is supposed to provide any sort of support, but she's only wearing this in a hotel room, so what does it matter?

She wears jeans and a tee shirt to the lobby of the building, checks in with a smile, and then changes into a far too tight pencil skirt, so short you can see the straps of her garters, and one of those ridiculous button up shirts that's so tight she can't button the top at all.

Her standard clientele usually don't go this route… and well, clients who see Mia usually aren't into this, but sometimes people like to mix it up, right?

She's been at this too long to feel nervous, or the type of dread that hangs low in her belly like she swallowed a bar of lead.

But there's something different about this time, something she can't quite place.

The obvious reason is Robin. She's not used to… feeling things. She feels things now, for him, and she still has to sleep with other men. Maybe that's why there's a voice in her head crying for her to stop.

But she's always been so good at separating herself, this, from normal sex, from love and emotion. And there have been other men since she first saw Robin, and she's never felt like this.

She pushes the thoughts out of her head he moment Isaac knocks, and changes her posture, her gaze… all those little things that make her Alexandra.

The moment he greets her, her gut tells her something is not right.

She's poised against the door in a sultry smile. Isaac groans, licking his lips as he pushes past her, entering before she can even invite him in.

He kisses her before she can invite him to do that, too, pressing her against the wall and griping greedily. And he hasn't paid her yet — he should know better than this, he's a regular of the agency…

"Isaac," Regina rips herself out of the kiss and gives him a firm push. "Shouldn't you… freshen up?"

"Oh," Isaac says, biting his lip, "I suppose I should."

He steals another kiss and grumbles that she's hot as hell before he goes to the bathroom as she's requested.

He comes back a minute later, clearly having used the mouthwash she had put on the counter for him, but looking no less eager.

"My turn," she reminds.

It's her turn to use the bathroom, to make sure he's left her the money for the evening. She will count it, apply some sort of fruity lip balm, lube up (she's going to need a lotttt of that today), and return fresh and ready.

He frowns. "I think you smell and feel quite fresh already," he moans, grabbing at her ass.

If she hand't known him from before, if Mal hand't recommended him, this would be when warning lights would flash in her mind. But she knows he's perfectly capable of following the rules, he's just a bit worked up.

So she raises an eyebrow at him and shoots him one of her stern no-nonsense glares.

It works, has him releasing her immediately, arms in the air. "Of course, if you insist…"

He releases her and lets her have her moment in the bathroom. The money is there, everything is in order. She readies herself for the evening, reminding herself it's just a few hours, that soon she will be freshly showered, and home with her son.

It's just a few hours, she feels uncomfortable because Robin is throwing her nerves off.

Robin with his hot kisses and that way he has of touching her (platonically) where she wants it, right when she needs it the most…

She's only nervous because of him, he's on her mind and she feels like she's betraying him, which is nonsense because they are nothing, and she has a job to do…

And she's going to do that job. She knows this guy, knows what he likes. And she will give him the fantasy, be the cool girl who really wants sex, she will fake those orgasms, she will ask for what she knows he wants to do.

It will be easy.

She exits the bathroom with renewed confidence, a sultry smile on her face and words on her lips she never gets to say before he speaks first and asks a coy "So then, are you clean and ready for me?"

It's not that there's anything wrong with those words… she has said similar to that many times. It's just… unusual for a new client to be so bold.

But he was with her already, so maybe it's not that strange at all.

"Definitely," she responds, keeping her voice as low and sexy as she can.

He grabs at the back of her neck and pulls her into a kiss. It's deep and hungry and… uncomfortable. His tongue is darting, intruding in her mouth, it feels aggressive and angry, so different from the shy awkward man he was with Mal.

"Easy," she whisper, directing him towards the bed, trying to take control.

But he wants to lead, so he stills her with a silent shake of his head. "Want you like this," he says, pushing her hard up against the hotel wall, hooking his arm under her knee and pulling it to rest on his hip.

He's the client, so he gets to do this.

He gets to kiss her, all aggressive and entitled, gets to work a hand between her legs, underneath her underwear. He is paying good money to get to groan into her ear about how fucking soaked her pussy is, and she's a mature professional, so she swallows heavily and hums into his mouth that she knows she is, that she wants him.

He takes her skirt off first, turns her so she's facing the wall, strips off her underwear so she's bare for him. He palms her ass with his hand, then gripes and cups, digs his nails into her, hard, then a bit too hard.

"Gentle!" she warns, spinning around.

He just chuckles, but he releases his grip and sinks to his knees.

She feels his tongue on her, licking at her from behind. It's… not the best angle, but it's not like she's going to get any enjoyment out of this, anyway, so what does she care?

He licks at her sex and fucks her with his tongue, thrusting once, twice, then pulls back abruptly with a frustrated grunt and spins her around.

She looks down at him, puzzled, but he just looks at her, almost accusingly. "You taste different."

Well, yeah. She tastes of edible lubricant, instead of herself, and well, it was probably was a bad idea to let him taste her at all.

But there's not much she can say about the state of things, so she offers him a coy smile and asks, "And how about you? Do you taste the same?"

He frowns and rises back to his feet, kisses her, and pulls at each button of her shirt until they pop open. He kisses and licks at each new inch of skin he exposes, each sucking kiss longer, harder. "I want you the way you were before," he breathes, "the way she made you, the way you told me I could make you…"

Regina panics now, just a bit, because, well, that simply won't happen. The guy with the harsh, poking fingers who jabs his tongue oddly along the tender skin of her neck and breasts isn't going to make her even a little turned on. But if he wants that, maybe she could try to get off herself, to put on a little show.

"Slow down," she whispers, attempting to move his head off of her chest. But he only sucks harder, hard enough to leave a welt on her skin. And then he is pulling down her bra and attacking her nipples with his mouth in a way that not only feels uncomfortable— it is just on the edge of pain.

"Hey," she says, firm now, "that hurts. Stop it."

"You like it rough, don't you?" He asks, and no, no she doesn't.

"No, this isn't my style," she says in a voice that sounds a bit too weak to be hers. "I…"

"Softer, then," he seems to understand. She's still up against the wall, but he is being more gentle now, as he rucks up the rest of her clothes, leaving those garters on and nothing else.

"So hot," he moans, his hands tracing her body. His touch feels… uncomfortable. Like the prodding of a doctor's visit. It's not sexy, but it's certainly not as bad as before.

So she offers him an encouraging moan as he slips two fingers inside her, pumping lazily at first as he kisses her lips softly.

He picks up pace a bit, but keeps it slow.

And she's just thinking, maybe if she shifted the angle, maybe if she gave him direction, this wouldn't be so bad…

She's just about to offer these things, when he picks up the pace rapidly.

It has her squirming, a little moan of discomfort leaving her mouth — this isn't… she's not there yet and his fingers hit at an odd angle, slam against places it shouldn't.

"You don't like it gentle," he says, "you like it rough, see?"

She hates to spoil the fantasy, but she doesn't want to be sore and hurting either. "N-no, this isn't—"

"Afraid to admit how dirty you are?" he chuckles. "It's okay, I know."

His hand is on her hip, holding her firmly against the wall as he pumps into her, sharp tendrons of pain weave up inside, and she knows this pain, is all-too-familiar with it, this will not simply fade away. This will stay with her, these little abrasions from the painful angle, the way his fingernails dig insto sensitive skin, it's all too much.

"Isaac…. this hurts," she gasps, but her voice is breathy from struggling to hold in those initial sounds of discomfort, and it seems he likes the sound of them.

"Hurts good, huh?"

His free hand is now wrapped around her shoulder, and he sinks his teeth into the flesh between her shoulder and neck… hard.

She squirms to get out of his embrace but this is all wrong, he's angry, he finally (thankfully) pulls his fingers out from inside her only to use that hand to keep her against that wall.

"You think you can fool me," he mutters, "But I watched you, I know what you like, who you are, you're a dirty girl—"

"Enough," Regina says sternly, "this is over. Stop or—"

Isaac just laughs and unzips his pants. He grips his hands around each shoulder at the base of her neck, his body pressed against hers, keeping her from moving her arms. He squeezes her shoulders tight, thumbs digging into the base of her throat. He chokes her just enough to where she gasps for breath, then releases and pins her body flush against the wall with one arm, wrist-to-elbow pressed against her chest and arms.

"Oh, I'm not stopping. You liked it hard, and you came so much, I watched Mia, she showed me how to touch you, so shut your damn mouth and…"

He forgot about her legs. The second he moves his free hand from his zipper to the top button he fumbles just a bit, and she has a clear shot and takes it, kneeing him hard in the crotch.

He immediately releases her, doubling over in pain. but she knees him again, this time hitting him squarely in the forehead. And then he's on the floor, crying out like the pathetic piece of trash he is.

He's still moaning in pain, in fetal position, rocking on the floor, one hand on his head, the other on his crotch, when she grabs her clothes from the hotel closet - normal clothes she can wear. She throws the jeans on right on top of the garters, not bothering to put on underwear, because this is going to be a quick exit. She does the same with the shirt, a standard mulberry colored tee that she won't mind wearing braless. All she needs now are her shoes and lingerie and his money, and she's out—-

"You bitch! Where do you think you're going?" he grumbles, still unable to look at her. God, she hopes that kick to the head made him dizzy. Her knee aches, she hopes his head hurts worse.

"I'm leaving," Regina says casually.

"Not with my money you aren't," he grumbles.

"Yes with your money." Regina says with a shrug, "I think I've more than earned it."

"You leave now and I'll ruin you," he slurs. He's still lying on the floor of the hotel in pain, and the strength of his words under this circumstance tickles her.

"And how are you going to do that?" she asks.

"I'll trash this room. I'll write — humph — a bad review, I'll trash you to everyone who listens, I'll—"

He tries to get up again, but Regina hits him hard in the stomach, hard enough to where he moans and cries in pain.

"Do you think I'm dumb enough to book this room in my own name?" she snickers, "Go ahead and trash it, I would love to hear what consequences you face. And trash my reputation? Please. I'll trash yours if you even try. I'll make it so no one will do business with you again—"

"Bullshit," he mutters, and that hand rubbing his forehead drops to the floor as he braces himself on his elbow. "You're an independent. You think I believe you work for an agency? You're alone sweetie, stop talking a big game. I'm a perfect gentleman to all the agency girls. They love me. None of them will believe you. I'll ruin you, as I said. So why don't you take a seat, right on that bed…"

That's it. She's heard of this before, men being decent customers to agencies and agency girls because they know they can't afford to be blacklisted. And it's true, Regina may not have any of those protections, but she has just enough connections to seem important.

"And I said I'll ruin you," Regina says slyly, though she doesn't quite believe it. "I may not be with the agency, but they listen to me. Why do you think Mia works with me? We share things, you know. Like information on our clients — and I doubt she will be pleased with what I have to say about you."

She knows it's a mistake, but she tries to grab for her shoes from where he's sitting on the ground in pain.

And the moment she goes for them, he's up, grabbing at her again, pushing her back against the wall, knocking her head hard against it.

She goes for his eyes this time.

Two strong thumbs press into his eyeballs, and he's weak, he's pathetic, he screeches this time, keels over, gives her room to knee him in the jaw this time.

This time, there's blood. He's bit his tongue maybe, or lip. Whatever it is, it looks awful, but she's sure he will live.

Unfortunately.

She grabs her shoes and the envelope of cash, finally feeling free.

She should just run, but she doesn't want him to trash this room, it'll make things complicated for everyone. So she looks at him with pure disgust, and bites out, "You have an hour and a half left of our session and you are welcome to stay here until then - consider it the most expensive two hour hotel stay ever. But then get out. Someone new will be here later and she will not be pleased if she has to call one of the company drivers to assist with your removal."

"You bitch!" he screams, "I will get you back for this believe me, I will—"

She doesn't care to hear the rest of his threat, so she storms out, confident and bold as ever, grateful she wore a tee shirt with a high neckline to cover the red marks he left on her body. She has her lingerie and "outfit" wedged into her little travel bag, wrinkled and balled up, and the lubricant, mouthwash, mints and condoms are still in the room - a parting gift she supposes. He can take them, she has his money.

And speaking of money, she really should not have taken it, she should have just left him and let him keep it, but the thought of him getting to touch her bare skin, to bruise her body, cut her from the inside, and swipe his tongue over sensitive flesh all without paying a price, well that seems unconscionable. She wants him to pay, wants to punish him in some other way too, but she knows the path to revenge leads to getting caught. So for the sake of her son, this will have to do.

In two hours she calls to remind the hotel to provide turndown service (the new girl will want clean sheets) and is relieved to hear that the maid has already provided it without incident.

Isaac must have left the place in decent condition.

Well at least there's that.

But fuck, she needs a new regular. And the right way. Not fucking around with shortcuts, now.

And no ignoring her gut feeling that something is off. Her instincts have gotten her this far, she has to learn to trust them, if there's anything she can trust in this world.

.::.

Regina tries to put Isaac behind her the moment she gets home, but she's not all too successful. She's sore and achey, the pain starts to make itself known as the adrenaline wears off.

And by the time her head hits the pillow, she's really too uncomfortable to sleep.

So she's happy for the distraction when her phone buzzes. It is a text from Robin asking her how her night is going, and if she ended up taking Henry to see that movie he had recommended. It fills her with a bit of warmth, and then a twinge of misplaced guilt that has no business being there.

It's not guilt over doing her job, over sleeping with someone else. Oddly enough it is over the fact she can't tell him about her night, over the fact she has to conceal that from him. It's getting increasingly difficult, with Robin. He's offered her an open ear, told her she can vent and share with him, and frankly… it's tempting. He knows about her double life, but that still doesn't mean she can text him back No, I wasn't able to make that movie, I had a new client to entertain, things did not go well, but don't worry, I think I may have kicked one of his balls so hard it is lodged somewhere inside him.

She doesn't talk about that aspect of her life with him, even though he's one of the only people who know what she does for a living that isn't a client himself. It feels wrong somehow. Probably because there's feelings there, they both have them, and ask much as he assures her he doesn't care that she sleeps with men for money, a part of her can't help but worry that reminding him of what she is will end all of this.

So she texts him a polite answer, tells him she was swamped with work and unable to take Henry out to the movies, but hopefully she can take him next week.

Robin sends her a video then, along with the words, Thought you might enjoy this, apparently you've made quite the impression on Roland.

The video is of a talkative Roland playing with his stuffed animals. They are all seated in a circle, and he's pretending to read to them, sitting on his little kids sized plastic chair, lecturing them in a tone that he undoubtedly picked up from his kindergarten teacher. She laughs as he points to Dobby the toy monkey she got him and wags a warning finger, saying And Dobby, no talking during storytime, or I will have to call your mother and tell her you were naughty.

An off-camera Robin laughs, and asks "Is Dobby misbehaving?"

Roland looks up and shakes his head. "No he won't be bad because he doesn't want his mommy to be mad at him."

"And who is Dobby's mommy?" Robing asks, his voice sounds like he's suppressing laughter.

"Regina," Roland says simply. "And she will give him a time out if he is naughty. And he won't get to go to Treasure Island with me and Henry."

Regina's eyes actually water watching him, seeing the little boy so casually mention her name. Nostalgic thoughts flood her mind, of a five year old Henry playing with his toys like that, asking that she feed his stuffed bear at snack time and dinner time, Henry trying pack his bear in his small backpack, insisting that Baloo had to go to preschool to learn his letters and numbers, too.

They end up sending a few texts trading stories about strong willed children, until exhaustion hits her, and she tells him goodnight, her mind blissfully blank of the unfortunate incidents of earlier tonight.

It's not until the next morning, when she gets out of bed and feels the stabbing pain in her neck, that she thinks of Isaac again.

And then there's anger.

By now the red marks on her body have bruised, delightful souvenirs from her evening with that asshole.

Nothing hurts all that much. It's just… annoying. She has to cover the bruises (in particular that one on her collarbone from his mouth - it looks like a hickey of sorts, even though it's more of a bite) adding to her frustration.

And it's summer, damn it. It's really hard to find a high collared outfit in summer.

She figures it out, a simple white shirt paired with a silk scarf that perfectly hides the reminder of her shameful double life. Even a tee shirt that covers the base of her neck would work, but she had hoped to be a bit more formal for… well, it's a kid's birthday, but it's also a meeting with Mulan, of sorts.

She had a client tonight, too. An overnight, to be exact. But she will reschedule with Liam - her insides are still a bit raw, any way. She can feign illness, and offer to cover him with someone. Liam won't mind. It's the first time she's ever had to cancel with him.

Her cell phone buzzes, snapping her out of her train of thought.

She knows it's Mal calling before she can even look at the screen.

Whenever they recommend clients it's customary to call each other afterwards, just to make sure everything is okay.

But Regina had no interest in recalling the events of last night. She just wanted to get home to her son and pretend it never happened for as long as she could. So she hand't reached out, and was asleep by the time Mal saw it fit to call her herself.

And it seems Mal has concluded Regina is in some sort of distress, because it's 9:30 in the morning, not a time when Mal would normally be awake.

She grimaces and shuts the door to her bedroom, the steady hum of Saturday morning cartoons assuring her Henry is otherwise occupied.

"Hello," Regina says, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible.

"What happened?" Mal asks immediately. "With Isaac. Was he an ass? Did he hurt you?"

"Did he say something?" Regina asks slowly, unable to think of how to respond. "He probably wants his money back, he may be talking to—"

"I don't give a fuck about what he wants. What did he do to you? I can hear something's not right by the sound of your voice. You've got that sing-songy everything is fine tone, and you only bring that out when you are upset. And we always talk about shared clients the night of and I didn't so much as get a text."

"It was nothing I couldn't handle." Regina says slowly, "not even the worst client I had, so—"

"Fuck, Regina, I really thought he was harmless. I'm coming over."

Mal ends the call before she can so much as react, and it's fruitless to argue with her anyway. Besides, her bruises really aren't that bad.

This will just give Mal some peace of mind.

But twenty minutes later, when she shows up at her doorstep in leggings and a tank top, her face fresh and clean, free of any makeup, hair thrown into a quick bun, she knows that Mal hasn't just been curious as to the state of her evening, she's been downright worried about her.

"Aunt Mal!" Henry calls, running to hug her. "I'm going to a birthday party and a soccer game and a sleepover tonight!"

"You are?" Mal asks, her eyes darting over to Regina. "Well, doesn't that sound like fun?"

Her eyes focus on the television, and Regina cringes. Morning cartoons are only reserved for Henry during special times, or when she needs the brain vacation.

And Mal knows that.

"Henry, I need to talk to your mom about girl stuff," she says lightly, "just some clothes and makeup tips. Would you like to sit in and offer advice?"

Henry screws his face into a frown. "Ew, no. I don't want to talk about clothes and makeup!"

"Suit yourself!" Mal says with a smile. "I'll bring your mom right back, okay?"

Henry nods, focusing on his cereal and television show, and then Mal is ushering her up the stairs.

She can be such a mother sometimes.

"Okay, strip," she says the second she closes Regina's bedroom door. "You're wearing a high collared, long sleeve shirt when you usually wear tank tops in the morning, so don't even pretend to tell me he didn't bruise you."

"It's not that bad," Regina insists. "The worst he did was threaten me, you know, he's going to give me a bad review, make it so no one will use me—"

"He's not going to give you a bad review, because I'm going to cut his dick off," Mal mutters between clenched teeth.

Regina doesn't fight when she reaches for the hem of her shirt and lifts it over her head.

She expects Mal to see the slight damage and be relieved, but she looks anything but relieved.

"Fuck," Mal murmurs, fingers tracing over the faint bruises around her shoulders, her breasts.

She lifts her hair and sighs. "Fuck, the back of your neck is purple, that bastard."

Regina cringes. "It is? Shit, this is going to be embarrassing, I—"

"Embarrassing?" Mal asks, as if it were absurd. "This isn't embarrassing. A man I trusted, I recommended, just hurt you, this is…. For fuck's sake you have no reason to be ashamed. I should have known. He was a little odd, but I thought it was just social awkwardness, I never saw this coming." She slaps a hand on her forehead, and Regina can tell she feels horribly guilty, but she shouldn't.

"Shh, it's not your fault," Regina assures, running a hand over the top of her loosely tied curls. "I met him when he was with you and he did seem harmless. I came to the same conclusion."

"What happened?" Mal asks, "Just tell me the whole story, I'm supposed to see this guy next week, and I can't… You just need to tell me."

Regina scrunches her nose, because Mal will be safe with him, won't she? Well, she really doesn't want to take that risk.

She tells her everything, from the aggressive way he started to the way he obsessed over their night together, to the bruising hickeys and the tearing fingers, the choking, all of it. Even just retelling the story makes her feels dirty in a way she hasn't in years. Because she let him put his mouth on her, his hands on her, and hell, the fact that that man got to touch her at all makes her feel like the trash she is.

"You told him it hurt and he didn't stop?" Mal asks matter-of-factly.

"Right, and then he, um, pinned me to the wall and said I liked it rough again, and started squeezing around my shoulders and so…." She smiles. "I hit him. Kneed him, actually, in the balls. Hard. He crumbled over like a sack of potatoes, and I got him again in the forehead as he fell. And I got him a couple of times in the stomach. Hurt him enough to gather my things. I took the money for the full session. Figured I had earned it."

Mal snorts. "Good."

"Well not exactly," Regina says, "Now he's angry and looking for revenge. And I really have too much going on to get myself in the middle of a fight with an idiot. I could have figured something else out instead of kicking him, but you know how I get…"

"I love how you get, Regina. If you weren't such a firecracker I wouldn't have taught you this business. He deserve everything he got. And now I'm going to make sure no one else works with this guy. He's dangerous."

Regina shakes her head. "It turned out he was one of those assholes who thinks independents can't hurt his reputation. He's going to be nice to the company girls, and abuse the ones he thinks are independent."

"He's not going to abuse anyone." Mal says plainly. "Because he's getting blacklisted."

"Ingrid would never blacklist him over his treatment of me." Regina argues. "She hates me!"

"Bullshit, she likes you, she's just bitter that you won't work for her. I'm calling her."

Mal, I don't think that's a good idea," Regina warns, "Besides, he said he'd ruin me, and he seems like he didn't have much to lose on his own. He's going to make life complicated for us. I just… I just want it over. Make sure the girls know never to see him as an independent. We'll get the word out, like all the others."

"All the others didn't trick me into recommending them to my best friend," Mal gripes. She's so angry, she's vibrating with it, her face is red and eyes dark and determined as she reaches for her phone.

When the other side picks up, she speaks fast and choppy, as if she's having trouble composing her thoughts. "Ingrid. We have a problem with a client. Isaac Heller. I recommended him to Alexandra, you know the girl. I know I'm not supposed to, so you can yell at me for that later, blah blah blah, I'm only to recommend company girls, but we don't have many that look like Alexandra do we?"

There's a pause, as Ingrid must be giving her whatever lecture she's due.

"Fine, whatever. But he bruised her all up and down, do you want me to send you pictures? Fuck, let me call you back."

"It's okay, Mal." Regina soothes, "He's going to be fine with the company girls—"

"Fuck off, Regina, and let me do this!" Mal says frantically.

This time, when she dials Ingrid, it's on facetime.

She puts Ingrid on speaker. "Alright, let me assess the damage," Ingrid says carefully. Mal waves the phone in front of the bruises, lifts Regina's hair to show her the purple splotches on the back of her neck.

"Well," Ingrid says. "It's not all that bad, is it?"

"Fuck you, Ingrid," Mal snarls.

"She's right," Regina agrees. "It's been much worse for us. You know that."

"It would have been worse had she not gotten out in time," Mal argues. "He pinned her to the wall, she had to take a cheap shot to his balls to even get out of there."

That, that seems to catch Ingrid's attention. "Alexandra, is this true?" she asks.

"Yes," Regina groans. "But he's not going to hurt your girls. He specifically mentioned that he didn't think I had any course of action as I was only independent, he seemed to think…"

"Well, he thought wrong, didn't he?" Ingrid sighs. "I can't have someone flying off the handle and marking up my girls, can I? Our clientele do not like… bruises all over their women."

Regina is shocked. She and Ingrid have had discussions, several, when she first started, about joining the company. And she always insisted she had to do this herself, had to work on her own terms, couldn't live by a schedule that someone else set for her.

Ingrid had been so adamantly against helping her in any way, if she wasn't going to work for her, she was the competition — competition Ingrid was set on putting out of business. Her girls weren't allowed to recommend Regina to others, and even her duos with Mal were kept secret.

She didn't expect Ingrid to do anything but laugh at her pain.

This is unexpected.

"I'm not going to tell you that the company could have protected you if you worked for us, because you already know that," Ingrid states plainly. "You really ought to reconsider joining us. But I know you won't."

"I won't," Regina agrees.

"Be careful," Ingrid says a little too warmly. "I know what I've told you in the past, Alexandra, but I really don't like to see any ladies hurt. And I don't like fraternizing with problematic clients. You tell us if you encounter anyone else dangerous, okay? And we'll do the same. Stay safe."

She's too stunned to process the end of the conversation. It's not at all what she expected.

Mal is smiling at her, shooting her a look that screams I told you so.

"You have friends, Regina. And people who are looking out for you. You just have to let them care for you."

All she can do is nod her head, and wrap her arms around her friend.

"Go have yourself a long bubble bath and take your time getting dressed. I have Henry."

"I'm fine," Regina insists, but Mal just rolls her eyes "Sounds like you have a busy day, anyway. So take it." And her voice goes warmer, drizzling over like honey, slow and sweet as she adds, "I don't know why you don't just let me take care of you."

"Because that's not your job," Regina reminds with a sigh.

Mal just mumbles something she doesn't catch, But from the tone of her voice, she clearly disagrees.

.::.

Regina fills her tub with the expensive bath bombs, lathers in sweet smelling soap, and pours a generous amount of lotion over her body, paying careful attention to where she's sore and aching. She feels lighter, clean and relaxed.

Mal gets out her makeup and touches up one of the bruises on her neck visible even over her blouse, and does such a good job she can't even tell there's a bruise at all until she touches the area and feels where it's tender and sore.

She opts for a white shell top, decorated by tiny black flecks. It's high collared, covers nearly everything but the marks on her arm and neck. The bruise on her arm is harmless. She could have bumped into anything, after all. Still, something about having a bruise he gave her exposed has her uncomfortable. So she grabs a fashionable gray cropped blazer and puts it on. The weather is warm, too warm for the blazer, but she can hug a shaded spot outside or spend time indoors. She tells herself she will feel comfortable once she arrives.

.::.

She's not sure what she expected Robin's home to look like, but this isn't it.

It's a nice neighborhood, but from the street, it doesn't look like the type of home the Vice President of an incredibly successful start-up would live in. He could have chosen a far more exclusive neighborhood, perhaps in a gated community where the homes are huge on acres upon acres of land. But this is a middle class neighborhood, on a street that probably comes alive on Halloween, set with trick-or-treating children wandering from home to home.

Robin's house is set a bit further back from the street from others, and when she approaches she realizes it's a bit bigger than it appeared.

Still, it's nothing fancy, and neither are the decorations for Roland's parties. Simple balloons decorate the mailbox and front porch. A cardboard cutout of Spiderman is stuck to the front door, with a word bubble that says "Welcome to Roland's Birthday! No need to knock. Come right in!"

The first thing she thinks is that such a sign is unsafe, invites any random person off the street to wander in the house. Do people in safer occupations, with more normal backgrounds, always see danger in signs like this, she wonders?

Henry is opening the front door before she can ponder on that long.

The inside of the house is… beautiful.

It's not too fancy, but there's space - so much of it. The style is a bit modern, and there's floor to ceiling windows overlooking a rather stately, private backyard.

The second thing she notices is Roland must be a very popular child. The house is swimming with guests - most of them adults. Several women in pearls and sundresses are chit-chatting to her left, a few men with beers down towards the kitchen.

She recognizes Ruby, leaning over an arm of a couch talking to some guy who looks absolutely smitten with her.

But whatever Ruby's talking about doesn't seem too terribly important because the second she sees Regina and Henry she jumps up and rushes towards her.

"Regina, good to see you. And Henry, I'm Ruby, we met at the picnic."

"I remember you!" Henry assures, clutching his towel anxiously.

"You must be excited to go swim! All the other kids are by the pool, the entrance is down there," she points to an open door that Regina assumes leads to a basement. "There's also a bunch of games down there."

Henry's eyes light up, but he's a good kid, he still looks to Regina for permission to run off.

"Go ahead," Regina permits, scruffing his hair fondly. He scowls just a bit at that, glances around as if he's making sure no one saw the motherly action. It stabs at her heart a little, seeing him already embarrassed of her affections.

"Good kid," Ruby compliments. "There are a couple of brats around here Henry could teach a thing or two."

She wonders if she's that obvious, if these people know that the key to her heart is complimenting Henry.

But maybe not everyone who compliments her is out to get something in return, so she smiles back and thanks Ruby.

So," Ruby says, motioning to the house, "have you been here before? "

Regina shakes her head, and takes it as an invitation to look around. "It's really nice."

"Yeah, Marian had a sense of style, and Robin hasn't changed much." Ruby nods over to the mantel, towards a cluster of framed pictures. One in particular catches Regina's eye. It's of a beautiful woman in a wedding dress with her arms around Robin, turning towards the camera and laughing. It's a lovely shot, clearly an impromptu snap of a happy couple celebrating. Robin's eyes are focused on her, and he looks entirely enamoured.

Regina feels like she's intruding, staring at the two of them, frozen in time… but it is on display and Ruby did point it out to her. So she walks up, and takes the frame in her hands, getting a better look of the woman who held Robin's heart.

She's beautiful.

Regina expected as much (Robin is a handsome man, himself, and Roland is adorable). But she hand't expected her to be this beautiful. Her skin is the color of honey, rich walnut hair shining in the sunlight, her mouth open, revealing pearly white teeth. And there's a visible sparkle in her deep brown eyes. Everything about her just screams alive and carefree and pure.

"That's her," Ruby says softly. "Marian. She was so fun."

"She looks like it," Regina agrees. She hates herself for already measuring herself up to this woman that has no role in her life. She's no reason to lament the fact she's not as pretty, or as joyful as the woman in the photograph staring back at her.

"Come on, let me get you a drink," Ruby says after a moment, walking towards the kitchen. "We're going to need it with that gaggle of moms squawking about god knows what, hanging around just to throw themselves at Robin."

She wants to cry out over the injustice of it all. Robin is a widower, still obviously grieving, and no one should be throwing themselves at him when he is still vulnerable. But that's not truly the reason she is upset. There is an undercurrent of possessiveness that ripples through her, the steady beat of a voice that echoes Mine. And she has no right to feel that way, not at all, but here she is. Jealous and worried that one of those women may steal his heart and break the fantasy Regina has of Robin offering it to her.

"What'll it be?" Ruby asks, pointing to a large table full of drinks, bottles of white wine and beer in a bucket of ice, a few reds on the end.

"Just a glass of water," she answers with a smile. Yes, most of the people in the room seem to have an alcoholic beverage of sorts in their hand, but Regina has to care for her son. And meet with Mulan. And drive home.

Ruby cocks her head. "Fine, but no one will judge you if you want a beer, you know."

"Stop trying to get my guests drunk," a familiar voice says behind Regina. She turns around, and good god he looks nice today. He's so casual, a plain white tee shirt and grey board shorts (they may be swim trunks, she's not sure), but he looks so damn good, all sunkissed from a day outside, hair a bit scruffed, a warm glow of sweat around his temples and neck. He smells like suntan lotion and soap, everything pure and clean.

He throws an arm around her and kisses her cheek like it's nothing — but it's not. She's so comfortable with him, so at ease with touching him, being touched and close. She's never been like that with any man in recent history, never been able to be so close and affectionate without a wave of dread riding within her. But that's why it's so significant, isn't it? Not since Daniel has she sought out the affection of a man. It's… kind of wonderful, and a bit frightening.

She catches Ruby smirking at them and it makes her cheeks heat. And then she's rolling her eyes playfully at Robin before teasing, "I was just saying, Robin, that some of these people need to loosen up."

"I don't think Rachel needs to loosen up any more," Robin sighs, stealing a glance into the living room, as if he's checking to see if she may appear.

"God, can she ever not take a hint," Ruby grimaces, turning to Regina. "One of Roland's friends' mom has her sights set on Robin. Well, many of them, but this one in particular. And she gets more desperate every time I see her, I swear..."

"It's not that bad," Robin insists, though his ears are very red and his cheeks are increasingly turning crimson, suddenly too shy to even meet their eyes. "She's nice. She's just going through a tough time, and she's just a bit—"

"She's awful," Ruby finishes, turning to Regina with a smirk. "I always tell him there are plenty of interested ladies with kids Roland's age, but—"

Regina raises an eyebrow at Robin, a questioning glance. Why did he ever use her services when he obviously has a group of women who'd be happy to throw down for free?

"I didn't — I don't want a—" Robin stutters, then scowls. "Come on Ruby, quit it."

"Mmm, whatever you say boss," Ruby winks. "Just saying there are plenty of options out there. I'm going to get back to Peter, before those women eat him alive."

She leaves them, alone together in a way that seems slightly pointed and obvious.

"So…" Regina smirks, "Which one of the plenty of interested ladies has your eye?" She cranes her neck to look at the few women chatting in the next room. One strikes her, a blonde in a small black tank top and white cutoff short. "The leggy blonde, perhaps?"

Robin snorts. "I'm afraid I only have eyes for the uninterested ladies," he says with a thin smile. The implication is obvious, has her blushing on command, and she really ought to stop this, but it's nice, flirting. And as long as she doesn't lead him on and it doesn't get in the way of their jobs… what's the harm? "And you know what? She's not exactly my type."

Regina thinks back to the wedding photograph and smirks, thinking that in fact he may have a thing for petite dark haired women. "Is that so?"

"Mmhm," Robin says smiling back at her in that knowing way. "So, did you bring your swimsuit?" Your son is already out there in the pool."

She had meant to, before Isaac Heller painted her neck and shoulders in purple bruises. But now, she's not going to be removing this strategically worn outfit at all.

She thinks of fun Marian, and how she would have probably shown up with swimsuit and coverup, ready for adventure and games. But she's very much on display and can't let anyone read her self loathing right now, so she pushes away the thoughts of her inadequacies, and forces herself to laugh.

"I'm not swimming at a child's birthday. Especially not a five year old child's birthday. I wouldn't trust the content of that pool water by the end of the party."

Robin laughs and tilts his head. "Fair point. But what if I I assured you that I invited potty trained children only, and it's well chlorinated?"

"I'd tell you I still didn't bring my bikini so your efforts are fruitless."

He pouts a little before muttering "You're no fun."

She rolls her eyes and calls him a child, but the comment stings, even though she's sure he only meant it in jest.

He's pulled away then, and Regina moves on to introduce herself to the masses.

.::.

Regina doesn't really relate to wealthy married mothers. She gets along with them, in doses, but she finds her life isn't as relatable, being a single mom who works… quite a bit. She does relate to the fathers, the ones who have business trips and are always trying to squeeze in family moments. But in these moments she does what she can to fit in, uses the charm she has to make others feel comfortable, uses the social skills she's developed as an escort to keep others comfortable.

But then the conversation shifts to Robin and Regina feels incredibly uncomfortable.

"My goodness, this is a nice house," a woman named Marissa notes, looking around. "I mean I had heard Robin was doing well but this neighborhood is so average that I hand't really expected this."

"He's a founding partner of some new age progressive tech firm, I heard," Charlotte says, "that explains why he's loaded but still seems like such a kid at heart."

"He's at all the school meetings and all of little Roland's baseball games, I'm not sure how he manages to do it with such a big job. He's the cutest at those PTA meetings. Were any of you there when we were all arguing and he raised his hand and asked if we could take an intermission and go have a pint down the street?"

That sounds very Robin, and isn't it adorable? But Regina could tell them a thousand things he said that have been funnier or wittier, and she bites down the urge to do just that, to let them know she knows him better than they do, as if laying claim to him. But this isn't high school and she's not some girl with a crush, so she smiles warmly and says nothing.

"I don't care how he does it," Marissa giggles, "He's rich, sexy, and loves children. How the hell is he single?"

"Still a grieving widower. God, what is wrong with me, why is that so hot?" another asks dramatically, while others cackle.

What is wrong, indeed? As if any of them had experienced the type of loss Robin had, as if they could just make light of such a situation, laugh about how grief and pain makes him more attractive, it's absolutely sick, and she needs to get out of here before she says so and causes a scene.

She's never been more thankful to see Ruby approaching. She is wet from the pool. Her skin is dry enough, but her hair is matted in thick tendrils that drip onto the oriental rug, and she's covered her bikini in a small towel that she's wrapped around her body. She's younger than most of the women in the room by a decade. Regina catches the way some of them look at her, and it infuriates her.

It's a pool party. People are allowed to wear swim suits.

"Hey, Regina? Henry is looking for you. I think he wants to show you something. He's downstairs with the rest of the kids."

And frankly, that doesn't sound like Henry. He'd find her himself if he had a problem, and he rarely wants to talk to her when there are activities outside. But Regina follows anyway, grateful for a chance to escape.

Once they are safely down the stairs Ruby shrugs and explains. "They didn't seem like your style. I saw you at the picnic. You may dress like those women, but you are more into games than pearl clutching."

Well, frankly, can she disagree?

"Thank you. I needed a way to excuse myself politely before I said something…. impolite."

Ruby chuckles and rolls her eyes. "Next time maybe say it. I'd love to see that."

Ruby leads her out the sliding glass doors that lead from the basement to the backyard. The older children and Roland are in the pool, plus a few younger ones who are wearing swimmies. Other children are playing with squirt guns and a slip-and-slide type of thing. There are men and women scattered about in each area, including a group of men hanging by the patio grill with beers.

"Got her," Ruby calls out, and only then does Regina spot Robin, his back to her as he mans the grill.

"Lovely," he chuckles, looking over at Regina. "Ruby thought you might have more fun down here with us."

"Indeed," Regina gives, wrinkling her nose a bit.

"Regina!" Roland runs from the pool to the patio, turning into a skip when Robin reminds him there's No running by the pool. His hair looks even cuter like this, somehow, all those curls lifting up despite being heavy with pool water, little upturned messy tendons that bounce as he moves. She readies herself for another wet hug, but Roland is clutching the towel around him instead, thankfully sparing her from a wet splotch on the front of her shirt.

"I saw Henry, he can go in the deep end and he knows how to dive! And he said he can teach me how to basketball."

"Can he?" Regina asks, looking towards Robin.

"Well, he'd probably do a better job than I would, I'm horrible at the sport." Robin teases. "Maybe Henry can help me teach you sometime."

"Really?" Roland's eyes light up at the idea before he is distracted with another, more pressing thought. "Regina, can you watch me jump into the pool? I'm going to do a cannonball!" Regina nods and tells him she won't miss a second, and then he starts to run back to the pool for an instant before correcting himself, and walking.

She observes carefully, because Roland is five, and regardless of how well he might swim, cannonballs into crowded pools are a risky endeavor. She itches to tell him to not do it, but Robin is the parent, not her. And he certainly has no problem with it.

When Roland reaches the end of the pool he does a rather careful jump into the water, Legs tucked under his body at the last minute, barely making a splash.

Robin watches too, a little laugh escaping him as he watches him.

He is a good father. He knew he'd be safe.

She's still focused on Roland playing in the pool, screaming and laughing with a few friends when Robin's voice cuts in.

"You must be sweltering in that thing," he points to her blazer, "There's a coat rack down in the basement by the door. Feel free to take it off."

"Stop trying to get me undressed," she teases lightly.

"Never," he says just above a whisper.

Her mouth falls open in a shocked smile. He's right by an open grill, but she swears she sees him flush a deeper shade of red.

It is hot out. And her blazer is covering only a small bruise she could have gotten anywhere, and hell, who cares?

So she does it, takes off her blazer, and instead of questions about the little bruise, she hears… a whistle. It's a catcall type of whistle, funny, considering the top underneath is flush against her neck, not at all revealing.

She finds Robin looking quite proud of himself, shrugging at her as if he couldn't help it.

"Stop it, you." Regina can't keep from grinning shamelessly.

Robin looks at her all cheeky and shrugs. "I'd try to control myself, but you said you liked the flirting," he says just under his breath.

Her cheeks heat and her belly goes warm as she thinks about the fact that he's shamelessly admitting this is what it is. Flirting. At his son's birthday.

She's not sure why, but some of the nervous tension of being here melts completely away.

"I didn't realize lunch would be served at this party," Regina shifts the conversation into something more normal. "1:30 seemed a bit late for a meal. Henry already ate."

"This is for some of the adults who didn't eat," Robin explains. "And there's always a few kids who won't eat and are suddenly hungry hours later. So…" He shrugs. "Better have something just in case."

He's kind of adorable whenever he's being thoughtful and over prepared.

She chats there for a bit, with Robin and some other of his work colleagues.

Will takes over grill duty so Robin can "mingle" — but Robin doesn't really do much more than stay by the patio. John swings by and introduces himself, formally. She's seen him before, at the picnic, but hand't gotten a chance to talk to him. He tells him stories of Robin that make her laugh, Will occasionally shouts over to add a word in.

She feels comfortable with them, almost as if she's known them for years.

"Hey Robin!" Mulan calls out as she opens the basement door and steps out onto the patio. She's wearing cutoff jean shorts, and an oversized tee revealing electric blue bikini straps underneath.

"Hello, love. Pool's open and waiting for you."

Mulan cranes her neck to the pool area, to the 12 or so children either in the pool or running alongside it. "Looks a bit crowded."

Robin laughs. "It'll switch up after a bit. I have a scavenger hunt planned. That you can't participate in, by the way."

Mulan scoffs and then turns to Regina. "Good to see you. Your boy out there somewhere?"

Regina nods, pointing out Henry as he lifts himself out of the pool. "He's made himself at home, it seems."

Mulan chuckles. "Good."

Mulan cracks a beer and stays a while, chatting with all of them.

It is nice, getting to know her more intimately, having Mulan get the same opportunity to know her. She doesn't talk much about business. Mulan talks about her college days with Robin, shares an awkward childhood story or two, then shares a bit about her dating life, a bit (coming off a rather bad breakup — a broken engagement, as it was, and she has found it hard to find the courage to get close to anyone since).

"And how about you?" Mulan asks. "Are you seeing anyone?"

"An eight year old son leaves little time for dating." And it's bubbling up inside her, though it's a subject she normally avoids, she can't help herself. "Plus I had a nasty divorce that kind of ruined the idea of relationships for me. The love of my life is there," she points to Henry. "I don't really need anything else."

Mulan scrunches her nose up, and admits, "Friend at the picnic pointed you out and said you were the ex-wife of one of the Blanchards, but I was going to be polite and not say anything. I don't know anything about Leo, but that seems like a pretty tough family to be at odds with in this city. And since you aren't decked out in diamonds and sitting pretty in some mansion I had assumed the divorce didn't go well."

"Mhm," Regina admits, nodding her head. "But even if it had been perfectly amicable I doubt I would have those things. I wouldn't have asked for alimony and Leo absolutely wouldn't have given it to me." She scrunches up her nose in disgust. "Not my style."

"Well, cheers to that." Mulan raises her beer in tribute before taking a sip. "I hate that aspect of wealthy society anyway, everyone forced into pretty little boxes and trying to have a contest over who can be the most boring. It's all fake bullshit."

"True…" Regina says carefully, knowing Mulan is talking about her role as CEO. And she still has a job to do, so she adds, "But sometimes it's best to play the game. It may seem fake but… it keeps people comfortable. They like what is familiar. And people trust in the familiar. They invest in the familiar."

"Alright, alright," Mulan groans. "I gotcha. Good point. It just all feels fake."

"It is," Regina concedes. "But it's also not. You are still the same person. You're not changing who you are. You're just playing a role, when you have your CEO hat on."

"I always have my CEO hat on," Mulan gripes. "This company is who I am."

And Regina knows that, and that's why this whole thing is so hard, isn't it? It's why she can't be the face of the company. Why Robin has to be that.

"I get that," Regina says. "But Robin, he… conforms on paper, doesn't he? And he's not boring or stuck up or fake."

"So you're saying I should be more like him?" Mulan snorts. "I'm not sure he's so easily imitable. He's kind of… unique."

Regina looks over to him — he's chatting with some woman, a pretty little thing decked in Lilly Pulitzer that Regina decides she hates. He catches her eye, and winks back at her in this cute, telling way, and a flutter of warmth flows through her middle. Damn it.

"He certainly is..." Regina mutters.

Mulan snort laughs. "Much too unique for Ana. That's Will's date, by the way, and Robin has zero interest in her. I can tell."

"Oh," Regina answers, trying not to look like she cares. "That's… nice for Will."

"Mhm… and nice for you, isn't it?" Mulan gives her a knowing smirk and shit, this is entirely unprofessional. Her client is teasing her about her crush. But before she can argue, Mulan follows up her comment by changing the subject entirely. "Today's a tough day for him, you know."

She did know that. She knows what it's like for Henry's birthday, every year, when she thinks of how things would be if Daniel were there to celebrate with them.

"I figured…" she gives. But she can't explain that she's been through the same thing, can she? So she just smiles and says "I lost someone I loved. Um, it was before Leo. Car accident. It's been years, but some days are still tough."

"How long ago?" Mulan asks.

"Just about 9 years," she whispers. And then it hits her, if Mulan does the math…

Shit. She's going to think she's as awful as everyone else does.

But it doesn't seem to bother her at all. Mulan just nods sympathetically. "Maybe that's why Robin seems to open up to you so much more than anyone else." She murmurs, and then, "I'm sorry. That must have been awful, I didn't know."

Regina waves it off, but before she can assure her she doesn't mind, John thankfully shows up, putting an arm around Mulan and asking what she wants on her burger.

.::.

It's a sweet party, really. She spends time getting to know Robin and Mulan quite a bit, and Ruby, and many of Robin's friends. And Henry has been having a blast, playing in the pool, participating in games, throwing himself into this new group of children.

When the children are told to sit down for birthday cake, Roland grabs Henry by the hand and directs him in to sit next to him. Something about that has her feeling warm and soft, that Roland is so taken with her son in such a short time. She hears Robin chuckle softly next to her, watching the two of them, and something tells her that he is thinking the same thing.

It's a loud and silly chorus of Happy Birthday, and a superhero themed cake that makes Roland squeal in excitement. She's standing behind Henry and next to Robin and Mulan and it feels… a bit too perfect, a bit too homey. They really don't know each other this well, people Robin has known for a decade are around him, and yet she feels elevated to this level of closeness she doesn't really deserve.

It feels nice, and right, and wrong at the same time. She's just visiting this life. It's not meant for her. It's then that she notices the time, and Regina hates to do it, but Henry has practice at 5, and they really should be leaving at 4 so he has time to get ready and pack his overnight bag.

So she leans over him, as he chats with Roland about god knows what, and whispers, "Honey, remember we have to leave right after presents. You have practice and then a sleepover."

A boy she's heard referred to as Marcus interrupts. "I have to go home soon too because it's my mom's birthday today too and we have to help make dinner," he explains.

"On my momma's birthday we eat chinese food because it was her favorite," Roland says, smiling broadly.

"But we have to cook. It's different for you because your mom isn't alive you don't have to do things for her anymore." Marcus says, and fuck, everyone freezes.

Marcus' very embarrassed father ushers him away, apologizing profusely, and then there's a perplexed Roland staring at his birthday cake, and three awkward adults wondering how to best handle the situation.

"We still do stuff for momma," Roland says, looking at his cake. "She likes it when we do things for her, I know she does."

"I know she does too! We do stuff for my dad too—-" And Henry's face goes pale as he looks at his mom in fear.

He's not supposed to ever mention that Daniel is his real father but in this moment, she can't fault him.

"Your daddy died too, Henry?" Roland asks, and crap.

"His godfather," Regina says, "a special man who was just like a father to him. So Henry knows, Roland. About all the things you still like to do for people after they go to heaven."

That appeases Roland well enough, but when she glances at Mulan, there's a knowing, sympathetic smile, and god damn it, she knows something is up.

Robin rubs a hand on her back, and then bends down to whisper a thank you in Henry's ear. Seconds later, Ruby asks if Roland would like ice cream on his cake, and the tense, sullen mood cracks and crumbles, making way for something more playfully and celebratory to rise in its dust.

Good.

.::.

After presents are opened, Roland decides to jump in the pool. Robin follows, as do some of the kids and parents.

And she forgets herself for a moment, admiring Robin all shirtless and wet, before she remembers she's on a bit of a time crunch. She looks down at her phone and winces at the time. She needs to get Henry to practice now if they are going to be on time.

"You know, after you drop Henry off, you should come back here and help us wrap up the party," Mulan offers. When Regina looks at her in confusion, she shrugs "You look like you are pressed for time and I don't think you'll be able to say a proper goodbye amongst all of… this. And you know, the party will go on for awhile, and we could all use the company. So just come back."

She wants to.

It's odd, parties full of strangers aren't normally her thing but she wants to come back. Should not want to, but does. She will be going back to an empty house for the entire night, and she hasn't had that since… god knows when.

"Party ends at 6, I will barely be back before it ends," she reminds.

But Mulan shrugs, as if time were inconsequential. "These things run late, especially the way this present opening is going. The party will be in full force when you get back. You know he'd like to see more of you, so just come back."

And ok, it's Mulan asking and she wants her to trust and like her, right?

Plus… she wants to spend more time with Robin.

"Maybe…." she says. And then she calls Henry over and tells him to say goodbye to Roland and Robin. He finds Robin first, leaning over the edge of the pool to give him a hug, as Robin leans up to hear him. She watches Robin point in the direction of Roland, who has run out of the pool over towards some kids playing with a droid, and Henry nods, trotting off and getting himself in what appears to be a very involved conversation with the birthday boy. They can't be late, so she excuses herself and works on tearing Henry from his conversation.

She doesn't even have time to wave in Robin's direction before she leaves.

.::.

Coming back to a child's birthday sans child is a bit awkward, and more than once she thinks of just driving home, because this is ridiculous.

She wants to see him, however, and there's that guise of business to fall back on, so she ignores the voice in her head that doesn't want her to have this, doesn't want her to get close to anyone, ever again for any reason.

That voice has made her so, so lonely, it's time she stop listening to it.

Robin greets her with a raised hand from the pool, and Mulan calls her name and begs her to get in the pool and live a little. There are other women, other mothers, coworkers, in the pool, jumping in and having fun. Some of the more annoying women in bright, floral bikinis, their skin tanned and dark from a summer at play.

If she wasn't all marked up, perhaps she could jump in the pool too. But she'd have worn a simple black suit, and her skin is still porcelain colored, a glaringly obvious sign she has failed to take time to enjoy life the way her peers do.

There's a tinge of jealousy, of their life, their perfect bodies, and her overused, worn out one.

She's not usually so awful, comparing her assets to others, wondering if the blonde near Robin has breast implants, because they certainly look too perfect, too big, to be real. And she certainly isn't continuing to glance over at Robin to see if he's enjoying the view of all these overexposed body parts (parts she can't compete with, in some ways). And definitely not taking time to appreciate how he looks shirtless, tanned and dripping in the sunlight, because that's really not something that interests her.

She doesn't really fit in this world, with happy people whose biggest stress might be running out of organic goat's milk. They're out there having a great time and she's such a spectator, here on dry land.

She should go.

But before she even has an opportunity to do so, Mulan is running towards her.

"That was quick," Mulan says, twisting her wet hair into a tight spiral, squeezing out excess water.

Regina nods, and clears her throat. "I actually, was uh, I forgot about—"

Mulan's not listening, she's glancing over Regina's shoulder instead. And then she snorts, loudly enough to break up her train of thought.

Regina spins around to find Robin headed in her direction, apparently abandoning whatever conversation he was just in to come towards her .

"Well, this is a nice surprise," he says, his voice a little thin and uncertain. "Thought you left without saying goodbye."

"I told Regina she should drop Henry off and come right back," Mulan says quickly, "Henry had practice and then a sleepover, is that right, Regina?"

"Yes…" she says tentatively. "I didn't want to pull you from your guests, so I just thought I'd drop by to say a proper goodbye when you had time—"

"No, stay," Robin says quickly. "These things tend to go late, anyway. And we've got dinner coming for some of the stragglers and there's no way we will be able to finish it."

"Definitely stay," Mulan insists, "it'll give me someone to talk to that doesn't bore the absolute shit out of me."

"I didn't bring a swimsuit," she needlessly reminds, "I should leave you all—"

"Regina!" Roland runs to her. He's mostly dry from the earlier dip in the pool, it seems he's been playing hard, his cheeks flushed and red. "Regina you have to meet all my friends, come on, I told them about how you're Henry's mom and you're so nice and you play all the games not like the other moms, please, please come!"

He's already trying to pull her towards the group of children playing badminton.

Robin laughs. "Looks like someone has a crush," he teases.

"Takes after his father," Mulan mutters.

Robin flushes red, and Regina shoots him a sweet smile.

And then she lets Roland drag her to meet his friends.

.::.

Roland is plays tour guide, and Regina feels unusually at ease with the crowd. She has the ability to make others feel at ease, to pick up on what they need to hear or say, but it's work, it doesn't normally come natural. It does today, with Robin's friends. When John teases her over a weak badminton serve, instead of feeling insulted or uncomfortable she just feels… welcomed and part of the group. When Will and Ana call her over, they share a story of babysitting Roland a few months back instead of making boring small talk, and it's comfortable and easy. Then there's Mulan and Ruby, who just seem to understand her in ways few people do. They barely know her, and she barely knows them, but it hardly feels like your typical chit chat with strangers.

"Hey," Robin says warmly, jogging up to her. She turns around and smiles at him. He's been catching her eye for the past hour, but they haven't talked, and it's actually quite nice to have that, to not have to hang off of him like a security blanket, but feel comfortable in the same space.

"Do you want a cup of coffee — or tea?" he asks, "I think I've had my share of the sun today, I was going to go in for awhile. Wanted to know if you'd like to join me. Unless you have to go, that is. It is getting late."

"Oh," Regina says, looking at the dwindling crowd of guests left, checking her phone for the time. Perhaps she's overstayed her welcome. "You know, maybe I should go."

"No, that's not what I meant," he rushes to say. "That wasn't a hint or anything, it's just—"

Robin sighs and rubs his eyes, as if he's frustrated with himself.

"What?" she asks, rather amused. God, he's cute when he's like this, when his normal confidence is shaken and he is tripping all over himself.

"When I heard Henry had a sleepover, I realized that… well you're a busy woman..." She stares blankly back at him, utterly confused. "I didn't want us to pressure you into cancelling any plans you may have had for your free night…"

Her eyes narrow as she tries to figure out what he's saying. He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I thought you might be using a free night for your second job, and I…" His cheeks are so, so red, and she knows it's not the July sun that's doing it. "Shit, I'm probably overstepping, it's wrong to assume you'd—"

"No, you're right," she hears herself saying. The desire to assure him he hasn't upset her is overwhelming. Or maybe just to have him understand her. "Ordinarily I'd take advantage of the time, and I did, but I, er, cancelled."

His eyebrows raise, concern melting from his face replaced with this adorable lopsided smile that has her feeling warm all over.

"Good. Then I'd very much like you to stick around. And let's get indoors. It's hot as hell out here."

She spends the rest of her time in the living room, drinking tea and reminiscing with more of Robin's closer friends, until most of Roland's friends from school have left, and it's just Mulan, Ruby, Will, John and… her. And a panic wave of anxiety rises in her, the thought that she is overstaying her welcome consumes her mind.

She's not used to being in a group of people, of friends. Not since her marriage to Leo isolated her from everyone, not since she gave up everyone who mattered in her life in some desperate attempt to give Henry a life she thought he deserved.

It is nice that Robin has this — friends who care, who support him, who are comfortable just drinking beer while Roland plays a new video game.

It probably helped, having this after Marian died. A flicker of jealousy courses through her, and then sails off.

John's teasing Robin about something, Mulan joins in, and they trade jokes and insults back and forth while she smiles and just soaks in the atmosphere that she has to admit she yearns for.

But she gave up any chance of that life the moment she accepted Leo's proposal.

The video game makes a thunderous noise, and Roland stands up, controller in hand, and stomps his foot. It appears he's lost whatever little battle he was fighting.

"Roland…" Robin said in a warning tone, "No one likes a sore loser. If you throw a fit I'll have to take the game away."

"But the game cheated!" he accuses, earning some laughter from the adults in the room.

He's a good kid, though, he looks at Robin with his passionate, angry eyes, and Robin says nothing, just stares back at him pointedly, until Roland gives out a sigh of defeat.

"Fine, I'm sorry," Roland says, earning a little nod of encouragement from his father..

"This game is boring anyway," Roland adds, "Daddy, can we open momma's present now?"

If Regina hand't felt out of place before, she certainly does now — now, when she realizes she's unintentionally invaded what appears to be a sacred ritual, or at least, a moment that should be between family and close friends. She doesn't belong here, not now. She doesn't fit.

Only a second passes before Regina's off the couch, "I really should be going," she says, refusing to make eye contact with anyone, "It's getting late."

There's a murmur from the room, offering her goodbyes, but all she hears is Robin's voice.

"Stay."

"I shouldn't, I should — "

Robin shakes his head and grabs her hand, as if to keep her from leaving.

It's not a request for her benefit. It's truly for him. He wants her there.

"Roland, why don't you get your mum's present and bring it down here?"

Roland smiles broadly, lets out a Yessss! and runs up the stairs.

Robin clears his throat awkwardly, and then says, "I like to keep this light, I don't want him to cry over his mum… but, it can be hard for me to keep the mood from turning too somber..."

"We always stay for this," Mulan adds with a shrug, "we're here to make sure things are upbeat and happy. So as long as you don't cry over this you can stay."

It still doesn't feel right, so she says, "I don't want to intrude, this seems like something for you guys —"

"If you don't feel comfortable, I don't want to make you stay," Robin says softly, and then, a voice full of vulnerability, "But I'd appreciate it. It'd mean a lot. I want you here."

With that she nods and sits back down, a bit closer to Robin now, her hand still linked in his. She feels a bit on display now, with all eyes on them. It is probably already exceedingly obvious that there's something between them, but at this point everyone must think it's much more serious than it is. Robin and Regina are just friends, after all. Friends who met under unusual circumstances, friends who may have seen each other naked, friends who may exchange a few heated kisses, but friends nonetheless.

She's relieved to hear Roland's footsteps bounding down the stairs, the thumping steps a distraction from the moment of intimacy she shared with a grieving widower.

"I got it, I got it, I got it!" Roland shouts excitedly, first running to Mulan and showing her the beautifully decorated box before running to… Regina.

Mulan's eyebrows rise as she smiles coyly at her.

This isn't good, is it? To be close to Roland to this level? Not when she's not meant to be in his life for long. And yet, it just feels right with him. So she won't push him away. She never will.

"Regina! LOOK! What do you think momma got for me?"

"I don't know, Roland, I think it is a surprise!" she keeps her voice playful, and he nods, giddy with anticipation.

Mulan steps in, then, and adds "And we're going to open it in a minute, but do you remember what happens first?"

"Momma sings happy birthday!" he shouts.

"Yes, that's right!"

"This is the first time he's remembered," Robin whispers to Regina, before nodding, "That's right my boy, Momma's going to sing happy birthday."

He grabs the tv remove, pops a few buttons, and then she's on the screen.

Marian.

Regina's seen a picture of her, sure, but Marian in video is quite a sight. She's even more beautiful when you see the way she carries herself, her facial expressions, the way she moves.

Roland's eyes are glued to her, "That's her!" he shouts, and points to the screen. Regina's the new one in this day, and he is old enough to know it, so he shouts her name, and says, excitedly, "Regina, do you see?!"

"She's so pretty, Roland," Regina answers, "What a wonderful momma you have."

"She looks like me!" Roland proclaims, "We have the same color eyes and hair, not like daddy."

"You're very lucky, Roland." Regina's eyes dart playfully to the man next to her, "Your momma is much prettier than your daddy."

It's a lie, but it goes over well, and Robin laughs, scrapes fingers up her palm, and his son cackles, and then Robin adjusts the volume, and directs everyone's attention back to the screen.

"It's Roland's First Birthday!" says a voice off-camera that is distinctly Robin, and it appears he's holding the camera, "And here's his lovely mum." Roland is in her arms, perfectly cradled and looking far too sleepy.

"That's me!" Roland cries, pointing at the screen. He turns to Regina, as if he remembers that she is the new one here. "Regina, do you see me?"

Robin's hand grips hers more tightly, and she squeezes back, giving him what comfort she can.

"I do, Roland," she says, trying her best to keep her tone light, not sad. God, if she broke into tears she'd never forgive herself.

"Robin, put that down, the party's over."

The background of the video shows what appears to be remnants of a birthday party, plastic cups littered on top of countertops, a few decorations still dressing the walls of their home.

"I am capturing every moment of this child's life from sleep to wake," Robin's on camera voice sounds...happy. playful.

Robin chuckles a bit next to Regina and she smiles, remembering how she was in Henry's early years.

"Well it's bedtime, so you're going to put it down soon," she argues. "And tonight, dear Roland, I'm going to sing you a special song to sleep."

And then Marian launches into a sweet, slow, version of Happy Birthday. Her voice is beautiful, it's not over the top, not pop star quality, but it's soulful and powerful in it's own way.

The camera captures her singing to Roland, rocking him gently as he goes to sleep, and, in a move where Robin almost assuredly regrets, the camera zooms in on her cleavage for a second, before pulling back onto the child.

Regina can't help but snicker, and Robin looks at her with a devious, proud smile on his face, before holding a finger to his lips and shhhh-ing her. That's right, she can't quite explain to Roland why she's laughing right now, can she?

When the song is over, Robin hits the button to turn the tv off, and Mulan and John and Ruby cheer, as Roland jumps up, begging to open his present now.

"Okay now, Roland, it's time for your present!" Robin rises from the couch and crawls on the ground with Roland, helping him to first open the card.

Roland opens the card and sits down next to his dad, "This is from my momma," he explains excitedly to the room for the millionth time, as everyone nods.

"Yes, I can read it to you, Roland, your mum told me what to write."

"I can read, daddy!"

Regina raises an eyebrow and looks to Robin. He did just turn five, but she doubts he can handle an entire letter.

"Let's try to read together," Robin offers, and Roland snuggles down next to him.

"To...My...d-d-Dear Roland. I am so…" Roland concentrates, biting his lip, his brow knitted, and it's a look she's seen in his father before. It's overwhelmingly adorable, incredibly sweet.

"Proud." Robin finishes for Roland, when it looks like he won't get the word. But Robin's not faring much better, and the voice sounds choked and strained.

"Proud of...you. I love you ver-ver-y muck-mu-CH" he corrects himself quickly, "Happy b—-"

"Birthday," Robin fills in, and Roland frowns, as if he should have known that one.

Roland's brow knits in concentration over the next sentence. "I am ...wa-watc-"

"Watching you from heaven" Robin says softly, his voice cracking ever so slightly, telltale signs of the splinter in the well-crafted happy mood he's trying to create. "Here, let me finish that for you."

Robin clears his throat and takes in a deep breath, reading the rest of the letter. "I have been watching you play baseball…"

Roland's eyes light up as he looks at the card, "Daddy, Momma knows I like baseball!"

"Yes, my boy, she does." Robin's voice is better now, you can hardly hear the pain in his voice. He finishes the card, his voice slightly more animated. "I hope you like my present. I love you very much, love momma."

"Wow that's a great card from your mom!" Mulan says, jumping in. It's not lost on Regina, the way she directs his attention away from his father. She wonders how many birthdays Mulan has had to do this, to keep the mood positive. "I wonder what she got you?"

And then Roland jumps for the present excitedly. Robin springs into action after a few seconds, helping his son when he struggles to remove the ornate bow and ribbon, watching as he tears through the wrapping paper and opens the box.

"A BASEBALL GLOVE!" Roland says, looking at the glove excited, "And a baseball HAT!" and still more, a jersey of his favorite player, and he wants to put it on right now, but Robin tells him to wait, reminds him that he's covered in cake and watermelon juice now, and they want to keep the jersey clean.

"Your mum told me to get you one more thing," Robin said, "I disagreed with her, of course, I still say football is the proper sport, but…"

Roland digs around in the box, crumpled tissue paper making sounds, until he emerges triumphantly with some tickets.

"BASEBALL TICKETS!" He screeches excitedly, standing up to jump a bit, settling down on the ground, still looking at them.

"Yes, four of them, and your mum told me you get to invite anyone you want. So long as one of those people is me, of course," Robin adds. Mulan reaches down from her chair to smack the back of his head.

"Roland, I'm sure your momma would be okay if you took your Aunt Mulan instead," she offers.

"Your Uncle John is always available," John adds.

"Your Aunt Mulan will buy you cheese fries," she offers, with a mischievous look in her eye.

"Your Uncle John will take you to ice cream and —"

"Alright, that's enough," Robin chuckles, "Roland, take some time and think who you want to bring, yeah?"

"I wish I could bring Momma," Roland says with a little sigh, and that cuts deep, reminds her of those moments where Henry says he wishes he could meet his real dad. She can only imagine what Robin is going through, especially when he looks like the wind's just been punched out of him.

"Your mom will be there," Mulan assures quickly, "She doesn't need a seat, she watches from heaven, yeah?"

Roland thinks curiously and then looks to his father questioningly. Robin nods his head, his breath hitching a bit when he assures him, "She's always watching, Roland. If you're at the game, she is too."

Things are in danger of going a bit sad, and Roland might catch on to the fact his father is holding back tears, when Ruby steps in.

"Roland, wanna play tennis?" she asks, turning on the wii.

It's the perfect activity, and Roland is distracted with his aunts and uncles, playing tennis, enough to where he doesn't notice his father leave the room and walk straight out the back door onto the patio.

Regina doesn't dare move from her spot, but she follows him with her eyes, watching him leave. God, this has to be a hard day for him. When she looks back to the group, she finds Mulan and John looking at her.

"It's a bit harder on him this year, I think" Mulan whispers. "Maybe because Roland's getting older and he can ask more questions, because he remembers things… but…" she shrugs, "I dunno. Could be other reasons."

There's an implication there, she just doesn't know what it is.

Regina nods. "That's… understandable."

And Henry had already dropped the news earlier, and it's exceedingly obvious she at least lost someone important so she adds, "I went through the same thing, in my own way."

"I figured you'd know how it is," Mulan reasons and then says barely above a whisper, "You should go check on him."

"Me?" she asks, careful not to distract Roland from his game with Ruby, because truly, her? Shouldn't it be one of his better friends, someone who has gone through this with him before, someone who knows this a bit more?

Mulan tries to act breezy about the whole thing, shrugging her shoulders and asking "Why not you?"

There's no sense pretending they aren't… something more than work associates at this point. What that is she's not sure, but right now, with Robin hurting, she doesn't really care what assumptions people draw from her. She nods, walks to the kitchen and helps herself to two cold beers before joining Robin on the patio.

He's bent over the railing, staring out into the backyard, so he doesn't notice her until she is right next to him, taking her own place against the railing and handing him a beer.

He takes it with an appreciative smile.

"And that, right there, is why I can't be trusted to do his little birthday ritual alone." He says with a defeated sigh.

"And who would want you to? Roland likes sharing his mom with people. The more people are here the more festive the mood feels." She smiles, and adds, "Roland loved his gift. And he clearly loves his mom."

Robin takes a big sip of beer out of the bottle, wipes his mouth with his sleeve and draws out a breath. "He doesn't remember her," he admits, shaking his head, "Not that I expect him to, he was barely a year old when she passed…"

"But he gets to see her through your eyes. He still has memories of her. He has yours. And he appreciates them. I know… I know Henry appreciates what he knows of his father from me."

"Yeah?" He asks. "Sometimes I think it will bore Roland, once he realizes that I'm the one buying his momma's gift, that I can't talk to her like he thinks I can. She won't be magic, she'll just be..."

"His mom. She will be his mom forever, and that is always going to be special. He will always want to hear about her."

Robin nods, staring out at his back yard, breathing a wistful "I have lots of stories to share, at least."

"She seemed wonderful, from what I saw of her on video," Regina starts, and she sees him take another sip, this time the hand not holding the beer covers his forehead, rubs down his eyes for a bit. "Beautiful, and very maternal."

"She was the love of my life," he says, his voice wavering, "Had this amazing giant heart, always caring about everyone and everything. She could be tough, too, you two would get along great. She didn't take crap from anyone. She was bloody incredible."

The sincerity drips out of his voice, every single word punctuated, and it nearly makes her shiver. Perhaps a part of her should feel jealous of the love he had for Marian, given the fact she… feels things for Robin. But it's odd, there's only a warm, comforting feeling surrounding her, because she feels the same about Daniel. And she gets it, the desire to tell people how truly amazing Daniel was is overwhelming sometimes. So she answers him, tells him what she knows he wants to hear. "I know she was. You two made a perfect child together. And everyone speaks so highly of her."

"I handled this better last year, you know." He takes a deep sip and looks at her with a sad smile. "The real reason why I was so upset at that picnic, and why I'm a blubbering mess now? It's not that I miss her. It's that… I don't as much. She's not at the forefront of my mind the same way she was — she's there, but, not in the same way. I have to really work at it to get the, to feel the—"

"You have to really think about it to feel the pain," Regina finishes for him. She shrugs. "Some days it will come back to you, hard. And you'll wonder why you ever missed it, at all. And then a few weeks later you won't remember what the pain feels like and you'll crave it again. It's an abusive relationship with grief. I'm in one, too."

He chuckles at that, thank god, and she's able to smile back.

He takes a deep breath in and asks, quite unexpectedly, "Marian died shortly after Roland's first birthday, did I tell you that?"

"You didn't have to. I did the math," Regina admits quietly. He cocks his head and she explains. "You told me that she died about four years ago, and she was alive for Roland's first birthday so I figured it hand't been much longer."

"Yeah," he says, "not much longer than that. And I didn't see it coming so I just think of all the things I would have said and done had I known."

"Me too," Regina admits. "You keep thinking about the last time you said I love you, the last time you fought, what a waste of a time that last fight was…"

"Yeah," Robin says, shrugging. "Exactly. I fought with her on Roland's birthday. It was over soon, we forgot about it by the evening, but the whole morning was wonky. It was just some stupid stuff about the amount of people being invited, she thought there should be more food, and I thought…" He trails off and sighs. "In any case, I'll always order double amount the food anytime we throw a party."

Regina thinks of the abundant bowls filled with pretzels, or chips, or candy on every corner of every table, how Robin was grilling up hamburgers, despite the fact that the party started after lunchtime and was supposed to end before dinner. It makes sense.

"I went through that. I hated all types of sports before Daniel died," she admits quietly. "Except for baseball, but even then I would only watch, never play. Daniel would always try to get me on his softball team, this league he was in just for fun. I had no interest. But now..." She smiles, he knows. He's seen her play with Henry. "I knew Daniel would have wanted Henry to be part of a team, to play some sort of sport. So I went overboard and enrolled him in everything that was available for him. And then I gave it a real shot and learned. I probably should have gotten involved in it a lot sooner, a lot of memories I didn't make because I was afraid of being awful and embarrassing myself."

"But you can't turn back time," Robin says with a sad smile.

"No, no one can." Now she takes a deep swig of beer. It's odd, so freeing, being able to talk about this. But Robin is suppressing something, she knows he is. "What is it?"

He doesn't answer right away, just sips his beer and stares off into space.

"I just wanted to thank you for sticking around. And for checking on me. You didn't have to." He's playing with the beer bottle label a bit now. It's wet from condensation, and his fingers scratch and tear at the soggy paper nervously.

"I wanted to," she reminds him. She needn't, he should know, but it's nice to hear.

He smiles sheepishly. "That's the mother in you, always trying to make everyone feel alright."

"No," she says too honestly, before she can rethink herself. "I don't think there is any part of me that feels like mothering you."

He laughs then, eyes still a bit wet, it's a bit of a choked out half-chuckle, half sob. She smiles back a bit, not hiding the blush she feels creeping across her cheeks.

There's a bit of silence, the air feels a bit charged from her joke, but she fights the urge to keep it from going too soft, too emotional, because now is not the time to end up kissing again, not when he's hurting over his wife.

"By the way, I like your idea. Keeping the moment light. I tried that too, but… well, I didn't have many people to help me. So when I got too emotional it ran the risk of ruining things."

"With Henry?" she nods, nodding again when he asks "With his real father?"

"Yes. Daniel. My fiancé." She smiles and shakes her head. Might as well tell him everything. "We were so young and thought we knew everything. So in love, we never thought about consequences. We were fearless. And then he died, and suddenly I became afraid of everything."

"You don't strike me as fearful in the least," Robin says truthfully.

"Not anymore." Regina admits. "But when I was pregnant and alone, everything scared me. Not being able to give Henry the life he deserved, the life I thought he deserved? I had never grown up without money. My parents were well off, and had just cut me off, I didn't think I was enough."

"You were enough, though." He reaches out to comfort her, runs a hand through her hair, and down her spine. It's a nice, tingling feeling, makes her feel appreciated, cared for. And that brings its own wave of guilt as she remembers why she came out here in the first place.

Regina takes a step back and grimaces. "I'm sorry. I'm making this all about me. I'm here for you."

His face softens at that, assuring her, "You're not making it all about you. I'm asking about you," Robin reminds. "It is nice to share with someone who feels something similar. What do you and Henry do for Daniel?"

She grimaces, and then admits, "We'd celebrate Daniel's birthday before I could really even tell Henry who he was, or explain it all to him. Daniel liked banana and blueberry pancakes, so I would make those, and then I would make burgers for dinner and have apple cinnamon crumb cake for dessert, we would look over his pictures, and read a Berenstain Bear book at bedtime… he always loved those, told me we should start a collection as soon as he discovered I was pregnant… we did these things, but Henry didn't know why, at first. Then I tried to explain, in my own way, told him that Daniel was his other father, his father in heaven. Leo of course forbid things like that — said we couldn't ever tell Henry that we were lying about who his father was — he claimed it was too risky. It's something I didn't think about when I married Leo." She rolls her eyes, "It all happened too quick." She stares off into the distance, thinking of that dark time when she first realized exactly what she signed up for with that marriage. "It was pretty awful."

"I can't imagine." He says it so powerfully it almost makes her shake.

She grimaces, caught in the whirlpool of frustration over how naive and stupid she was in her youth. Fuck, this is not where she needs her head to be right now, she needs to focus on him. Still, she can't resist muttering a self-loathing "I was such an idiot."

"No you weren't. Regina, I had my mum and dad, I had friends, financial stability, and all the resources in the world, and I still felt like I was drowning. If part of you is still, in any way, still blaming yourself for—"

"Of course I blame myself." Regina scoffs. "Daniel can't be celebrated the way Marian can. I agreed to take Henry's paternity away from him. That's priceless. I am trying to make up for it, but I made a deal with the devil and I got burned. It was a stupid decision. One I have to live with."

"I would have made the same stupid decision if I were you," Robin says, simply with a shrug.

Now that simply cannot be true. The perfect man in front of her would never ruin Marian's memory for the promise of financial comfort. He wouldn't whore himself out the way she did. Does, actually.

She sighs and shrugs her shoulders, shaking her head softly. "No, you wouldn't. I know you. You would have fought tooth and nail to do what was right."

ButRobin is adamant, tilting his head and staring into her eyes. "You know me now. You didn't know me when I was recently widowed, with an infant son it turns out I hand't a clue how to raise on my own. Grief can be all-consuming. So much so that you just can't think straight." He looks at her with some sympathy. "I was there, Regina. I know. Let's not forget, the things I have done have been far from noble. You were backed into a corner and a manipulative sociopath used your desperation to his advantage. Stop blaming yourself, the blame is on him. Not you."

Her eyes fill with tears she tries hard to bit back. She always assumed everyone would be truly revolted at her if they knew what she did, and knowing that he isn't means more than she would have known.

"Thank you," she says, feeling something clenching around her heart. "It feels good to talk about this…and I'm sure you know but if this ever got out, the fact I was sharing this, to Leo—"

"I won't tell a soul," he smiles, crossing his heart emphatically. "But I am going to keep telling you that you can't blame yourself for anything other than raising an extraordinary young boy under incredibly difficult circumstances. I could barely do it under the best of circumstances. I think about that, sometimes. About how Marian would see me these past few years. She would not have been pleased with how I've held it together."

"I doubt that," Regina says, blinking back tears. "Roland knows who his mother is, and he knows how loved she is. He loves her, and that's hard to do. And you are in love with her still. It's been years and you haven't even looked to date someone." She bites down her own guilt, shuts out the memory of her quickie wedding to Leo weeks after Daniel's death. "I married Leo a little over a month after Daniel's death. If he's up there, somewhere, I don't want to know what he thinks of me."

"Daniel probably thinks that Henry is the luckiest child in the world, to have a mother willing to go through hell for his happiness. And he's happy, a well-adjusted, perfect child. That wouldn't have been easy no matter what choices you made. Doing this alone isn't easy. Roland… I owe most of how he turned out to Mulan and John."

"I don't believe that," Regina says quickly.

"Well, it is true. At least at first. And as for not even looking to date anyone? That is part of the reason I'm upset. I'm… I don't know, feeling like I don't want to be a bachelor for the rest of my life. And even just saying that out loud, that makes me feel so damn guilty—"

"You shouldn't feel guilty about that. You've mourned for years and now you are healing," Regina reminds and her free hand goes up his spine and falls on his shoulder, rubbing there gently. God, it feels nice. Every touch, however innocent, in any situation, seems to affect her more than it should. "It is what is supposed to happen. And I doubt Marian would want you alone forever."

"Oh, she definitely wouldn't," He grimaces. "Marian wrote me a letter right before her surgery. I guess she had a feeling it wouldn't go well…" His eyes get misty, but this time he recovers quickly, that little haze of tears evaporate with a few blinks. "She told me she didn't want me to live like this. She wanted me to move on. She wrote that it was her dying wish that I find a new person to love, and help raise Roland. I was so angry at her for asking that of me for so long I've been stubbornly refusing to even open myself up to the possibility." He takes a sip of his beer, the last of it, it seems. He plops it down on the railing and wipes a hand through his hair. "And now it turns out it may be what I want after all, to have another partner, and I have her blessing, more than that. And I feel guilty for being so angry for so long just because she asked this of me."

There's something relieving about knowing he's been given the permission to move on, and any feelings he may have developed for Regina haven't been the cause of his guilt or discomfort.

Because he's made his feelings clear, and part of her knows the reason why he may be thinking he could move on is because he's harboring a little crush for her.

So at least she's not to blame for his pain. This time.

"There's nothing to feel guilty about," Regina sighs. "Anger is normal. Even misplaced anger. Who cares how long it took you to get here? You're here now. Let go of all the past anger, and start new."

Robin shares with her an appreciative grin and then shakes his head. "Alright then, we should get back inside before my son worries about me." She starts to walk towards the sliding glass door when he calls out, "And thank you again. For every single thing you said out here. It all meant a lot."

She nods and gives him a smile in place of words, hoping he realizes how special it was to her as well, And then turns and walks back into the living room, bracing herself for questions and jokes about their long absence.

But it's Robin's friends, and they are kind. No one says a word about it. They welcome her back into the conversation, as if she's always belonged.

After a few moments, Roland lets out a loud yawn and asks, "Can I have another piece of cake?"

Robin laughs, "No, my boy, I think you've had your sugar for the day. But it does seem to be a little late, I think it's time to have a bath and go to bed."

Roland frowns, "But I don't want to, I want to stay up with you!"

"Roland, was that your bathroom, the one up at the top of the stairs?" Regina asks, thinking of the bathroom she used when the downstairs powder room was full, earlier today.

He nods vigorously.

"I saw some fun bath toys when I was in there, it looked like one turned the bathwater a different color! I bet that's fun to play with," Regina says with a smile.

He nods his head again, "And," he adds, "I have colored foam and crayons for the bath!"

"Do you?" Regina asks, "I don't think I've seen that before. You are so lucky."

"Would you like to see? I'll show you them!"

The realization that she was just invited to bath time hits her hard. For a second she feels like she's definitely overstepping, but then Mulan chuckles.

"Looks like Regina just got stuck with bath duty. Enjoy it, it's a blast."

"Oh, you don't have to," Robin assures her, "I'll take him, it won't be an issue."

"No, I want Regina," Roland whines, looking at her with puppy dog eyes that could just about melt her, if there were a shred of ice left in her veins to begin with.

"I've got it." Regina assures. "You stay here and enjoy your friends. I'll get you when he's ready for bed."

"Don't be ridiculous," Robin scowls. "I can't ask you to do that. Sit down, relax. Let me handle it."

"You're not asking," Regina reminds. She doesn't think it's a lack of trust that has him hesitant to accept, he looks more… worried about putting her out. So she adds, "Roland asked." She rubs a hand down through his curls and smiles at him. "And I really miss this age. Henry is growing up far too fast. So let me handle it. Roland and I will have fun, won't we, Roland?"

"Yes! And I can show her the ferry and my flutes!"

"Yes, the flutes." Robin cringes. "Are you sure you're alright with this, he can be a handful and—"

"Robin I've done bathtime with a five year old hundreds of times. I know the deal." She cocks her head, trying to figure out if she's misread him. "Unless you'd rather I not, in which case I'd totally understand. I was really picky about who Henry spent time with when he was Roland's age too."

"No, that's not it at all," he assures. "I just want to make sure you're certain about this."

"She is," Roland scoffs, taking her hand. "Come on, Regina, I can show you all my toys!"

She laughs and lets him lead her up the stairs. She turns back when she's about halfway up to find Robin watching her, looking proud and amused at his son and his bossy ways.

"Be back soon," she waves.

"No," Robin laughs, "No, you won't."

.::.

He doesn't take his eyes off them the entire trip up the stairs, watches and listens for as long as he can. When Regina asks, "And where are your towels?" Robin is about to run up and show her, but then Roland is answering with a quick "my special towels are in my room. And I get to wear the Sully towel tonight!" and he figures he should let Regina handle it and stay down stairs. He would join her - would rather be with her in this moment, but she wanted to do this alone, and he certainly doesn't want her to think he's supervising her.

"Earth to Robin," John snickers, and then he remembers there's a room full of people watching him pine over her at the foot of the steps.

"Sorry, what?" Robin asks, sheepishly.

"I asked you if you wanted a drink," Will answers with a laugh. "But clearly you're already drunk on love."

"Oh, give him a break," Mulan says sternly, hitting Will in the torso. "I think it's cute."

"It's not anything," Robin grumbles sitting down on the couch with a sigh. "We're just friendly. She's working with us. She's nice."

"So am I," Will retorts teasingly. "But I don't recall you constantly checking on me to see how I'm doing, or watching me walk up the stairs all longingly."

"Let's be real here a second," Mulan cuts in, "you're a nice guy Will, but watching you walk up the stairs doesn't exactly seem anywhere near as fun as watching Regina. And I say that with love, as someone who isn't currently smitten with the woman."

There's laughter, but Robin grimaces. "Seriously, I'd prefer if you didn't tease her about this. There's nothing between us. She's made it clear she just wants to be friends."

He doesn't really realize what he's said until the mood shifts, and things go a bit somber.

"But you want it to be more?" John asks. "That's great, I mean—"

"I didn't say that!" Robin interrupts, quickly, "I'm just telling you that she's made it clear that our relationship—"

"Relationship?" Ruby asks curiously as Mulan almost spits out her beer.

"I mean it, it's nothing. So can we just drop it?"

"We can," Ruby agrees. "But you've been fawning all over her. And she definitely checked you out when you were in the pool. Also, at least a dozen other times since she's been here."

"She's very subtle and innocent about it," Mulan notes with a chuckle. "It's actually kind of sweet."

Robin feels his ears burn, his cheeks already hot and he's sure he's blushing something fierce. He hand't noticed any of this. Of course it is always possible that it didn't happen, that Mulan and Ruby are trying to bulk his confidence, so he actually does try to ask her out. Which he never would, because the woman doesn't want a relationship.

He knows she doesn't. She may enjoy a good snog with him, may enjoy his company, but whatever she feels isn't enough to leap into a relationship. And he's not sure he even is ready for that. He wants her, wants more of that intimacy and connection he feels, but maybe if she were available, if it was right there…

Maybe he would fuck this all up. He's still emotionally stunted. And then she'd leave him, and he'd lose all of this.

So what he has with her now is pretty wonderful. A friendship where he can flirt shamelessly with her, and confide in her, and share with her, offer her a bit of comfort. It's nice. It's safe. If he could see her more regularly, it would be close to perfect.

But his friends don't need to know there's anything else, and he couldn't (and wouldn't) tell them their whole story anyway. So instead he rolls his eyes and says, "I'm pretty sure you guys are seeing things. She's a lovely woman, a good friend, but we're not going there."

"Right, she's only just spent the majority of Roland's birthday party here without her son, and is now giving the birthday boy a bath." John snorts.

But Robin shrugs and reminds John, "None if you have any children and you've been here all day. And I'm fairly certain if I asked you to bathe Roland—"

"Aw that's different, mate. We're your friends."

Will walked right into his point, and Robin smiles slyly. "Yeah, and so is she."

There's murmurs of disagreement, but no one seriously tries to distinguish their years of friendship with his newfound one with Regina, and he feels quite smug about it.

"Well, I was thinking of heading out early tonight, and now that I know you're in good hands…" Mulan gets up, fixes her shorts. "I love you, Robin, but I've had my share of family fun. I'm hitting up a bar."

"I'm coming with you!" Ruby says quickly, "Peter said he'd meet me wherever."

"Shall we go to the Poison Apple?" Mulan asks.

"Ana just went home to shower, she's been begging me to go out," Will say in a hurry.

John doesn't even give an excuse, he just walks towards the door with them, winking at Robin as he leaves.

Great. Just great. His so-called friends are walking towards the front door, giving him these knowing looks that make him want to scream. And he tries half heartedly to get them to stay, but he doesn't want to deny them a night out. So he lets them go, and hopes Regina doesn't read too much into it when she comes downstairs to a nearly empty house.

.::.

Robin was right. Regina is going to be here awhile. It seems Roland enjoys bathtime quite a bit, despite initially protesting having one.

He reminds her very much of Henry at his age. Bubbly, excited about everything, giggling and chatting a mile a minute.

He's taken time to show every bath toy he owns, giggling and laughing as he fills each flute with a different amount of water, and demonstrates how the sound slightly changes based on the amount of water inside.

They are different, alright, but they are all shrill and unpleasant.

She should be in agony over it, but he's too damn cute. And he's so excited everytime he blows into the flutes she can't help but get excited too.

"Does Henry have bath toys?" Roland asks, while coloring in a tile with the bath crayons.

"Oh he used to have a lot. He had lots of boats, and bath crayons, and he even had an octopus he used to swim with," Regina smiles, nostalgia flooding her thoughts. "But lately he's been taking showers."

Roland wrinkles his nose. "Showers are boring."

"They are," Regina agrees, "baths are much more fun."

"My daddy takes showers," Roland tells her, as if this were information she wouldn't have known.

"Does he?" She asks, pretending to be surprised.

"Yes, and he sings in there," Roland giggles. "He likes to sing."

"Really?" Regina asks, thinking of the natural rhythm he has as a dancer, she supposed she's not surprised. "Maybe I should ask him to sing for me, one day," she winks at him.

"Yeah! My daddy would sing for you. He only sings for people he really likes, and Uncle John told me he likes you."

"John said that, did he?"

"Mhm, and then I said I like you too! And then daddy told us to be quiet."

Regina snorts. She shouldn't be priming the kid for information on his father, but well,she can't help herself. "When did this happen?"

"Yesterday," Roland sounds bored, clearly unaware he's actually trading secrets. "Regina do you like my drawing?" She looks at it and tries not to laugh. "Now who is that under the tree?"

"That's me, and daddy and Aunt Mulan," he explains. "And that," he points at the giant figure near them, "is our pet dinosaur."

"What is the dinosaur's name?" Regina asks curiously.

"Rocky. But it's a girl dinosaur, sometimes Rocky can be a girl's name," Roland pronounces with pride, as if he's very knowledgeable on the subject of gender neutral names.

"Is Rocky a nice dinosaur?" Regina asks, "or will she bite?"

Roland shakes his head. "No, she won't bite." And then he starts explaining dinosaurs to Regina. In detail.

And god, she is fully, head over heels in love with Roland Locksley, with every last thing about this child, and it was a terrible idea to get so close. She's not even sure how it's happened, but it has, and it scares her. Roland Locksley, with his deep dimpled smile and family portrait that includes imaginary, prehistoric pets is no longer just the adorable kid right out of a cereal commercial, he's now someone she cares for, someone she likes completely independent of his charming, good-looking father. And in another life, that might be absolutely wonderful, but well, under the circumstances, it's a warm feeling laced with pain, because she has another person she loves that she will one day have to leave behind forever.

.::.

She lets him stay in the bath until he's pruny and yawning, figures it's his birthday, he's earned it. And she gets a towel out and dries him, and asks if he has a favorite pair of pajamas.

He does.

Dinosaurs. Predictably.

He picks out a book and then settles in the covers, and Regina sees the toy monkey she won for him at the street festival is laying on top of his bed, next to a worn down toy puppy dog she assumes has been a favorite for years. It makes her happier than she realized, seeing him snuggle into her gift.

"Can you call daddy up here now to read me my story?" Roland asks, already yawning.

She smiles and kisses his nose before she can think of it, and tells him that she will send him right up.

.::.

Robin changes his clothes first, goes into the laundry room and gets out of the swim trunks he'd been in all day, trades them for a pair of comfortable jeans and a tee shirt he thinks fits him quite well.

Then he goes back down the stairs and cleans up, repeating to himself he should not check on Regina and Roland. Regina made it clear that she wanted time with Roland, that she could handle it, and there's certainly no sound of distress coming from the bathroom, after all. Plus, he wants to make it clear that he trusts her. He knows there's a part of her that has a slight bit of self loathing, and she's made little comments that lead him to believe she doesn't quite believe he is comfortable leaving her alone with Roland, given everything he knows about her.

So he nervously picks up paper cups and plates, throws trash away and wraps up uneaten food, putting it back in the fridge.

Until he hears her padding downstairs.

"Is everyone gone?" Regina asks just above a whisper.

Robin nods.

"Sorry," she winces, "he was having so much fun, I didn't want to force him out of the tub. Not on his birthday."

"It's quite alright. This is how long I'd figure a bath would take. Actually, it can take longer." He concedes, his hands bury themselves into his pockets as he shrugs sheepishly. "Sorry about that, I—"

"Henry was the exact same." She is truly shining now, her eyes dazzling, the way they do when she is happy. He loves her like this, finds himself falling a little bit more in love with her at every moment. "And I actually miss bath time now, and I know that sounds ridiculous, but trust me, when Roland doesn't want them anymore, you'll see what I mean."

"It doesn't sound ridiculous," Robin admits. "As obnoxiously time consuming as it may be, whenever I am on a business trip I miss that time with him. He's very imaginative in the tub."

"Mhm," Regina agrees. He pauses for a second to just drink her in, wishing he had the right to walk over and press a kiss to those lips, stroke his thumb across the apple of her cheeks, drink in her beautiful smile from a breath's distance away.

The air feels charged, and she feels it too, he thinks, because she's suddenly turning from his gaze.

"Go on, it's time to tuck in your son."

There's something wrong with him, because he's never heard an invitation to read a story sound so… well, sexy. And he better put those thoughts out of his mind, because they are reading to his son.

He starts up the stairs, then notices Regina is not following him. "Coming?" he asks.

"I thought I'd give you guys some space," she explains "It is his birthday, after all. You should spend storytime with him alone."

"But what if I don't want to?" Robin asks. "And I'm fairly certain he won't be happy if I go up there without you. He will at least want to say goodnight. Come on, unless you've had enough of a sleepy five year old for the day?"

She arches an eyebrow and shakes her head as if he had just said the most absurd thing in the world.

"Never."

.::.

Roland is already half asleep under the sheets, in his dinosaur pajamas, arms strangling his toy monkey and puppy.

"I want Regina to be Max and Daddy to be the Wild things," he requests in a sleep-soaked voice. Robin chuckles, and nods. He sits on the edge of the bed, one hand around his son, and Regina scooting the rocking chair right to the edge of the bed, so they can share the book.

Regina starts, reading about Max and his wolf suit causing mischief of one kind and another.

Robin jumps in to do the voice of the mother, a stern voice that is not overly shrill, not feminine, but somehow sounds motherly all the same.

Regina plays Max, throws her whole heart into it, making Roland laugh as she acts out each word.

She and Robin trade reading the narrative, and somehow it goes smoothly. It feels as if they've been doing this, splitting bedtime stories, forever. Though it's meaningless, the fact this goes so well. Their kids just happen to have the same favorite bedtime book.

Robin plays a very good Wild Thing, with a loud, low booming voice, deadly and dark, he hears his teeth and draws his fingers when reading their description.

It's a nice book, and it's been awhile since Regina has read it. There's that price of nostalgia that stirs within her, rising until the sensation entirely washes over her and she's back with a five year old Henry, reading about wild things and pretending not to fear the new direction her life had taken, trying to pretend the isolation and danger wasn't overwhelming.

When Robin reads the part where Max is lonely and wants to be where someone loves him "best of all" it pulls at her heard in a way it never has before. And then there's the next line, where the wild things cry "Oh please don't go—we'll eat you up—we love you so!" and her heart aches.

Roland is very nearly asleep by the time Max eats his still-hot supper, and Regina feels lulled into tranquility herself. Robin kisses Roland's, wishing him a goodnight. And Regina does the same, as if on autopilot, the haze of sleepy bedroom stories taking over..

"You have to kiss Dobby and Max," Roland insists, pushing the stuffed animals towards her.

She kisses them sweetly, wishing them a good night.

"Does your daddy need to kiss them?" she asks, but Roland shakes his head. "They only wanted a kiss from you."

She shoots a Robin a knowing look, biting her lip to keep herself from laughing at how cute this son of his is, but the expression on his face takes her breath away. He looks so touched, his eyes are all big and wet and she's a bit too emotional to hold his gaze for more than a split second.

Robin walks out of the room and motions for her to follow, shutting the light off as she gets the door.

"I'm fairly certain I owe you a drink," he murmurs as they go down the stairs, "after I had you handle bedtime."

As nice as it sounds, with as tired as she is now, if she has a drink there's a good chance she will end up passed out on his couch. Regina shakes her head and offers him a sympathetic smile.

"You don't owe me anything, it was my pleasure. And I'm driving. I told you, I can't risk driving if I've had anything to drink, the police don't like me."

Robin bites his lip and nods as if it's nothing. "Ah, sorry, momentary lapse in memory. How about a piece of birthday cake and a cup of tea, then?"

She likes that about him. He never tells her she's being ridiculous to worry about one measly glass of wine, he accepts it for what it is and never makes her feel like less.

So she should probably be going.

Or maybe she should have some sugar. Just to to give her a little shot of pep for the drive home.

"I already had a piece of cake, but…" she scrunches her nose. "It was delicious and I really want another."

He nods. "Good. Because I hate to eat cake alone. Festive foods deserve company."

She laughs and sits down on the couch, and gives Henry a quick call while Robin makes tea. Henry is fine, sounds almost annoyed at her call for interrupting his fun, and that's a good sign, at least.

Robin puts her cake and tea on the coffee table and sits next to her.

"Can you stay a little while?" he asks, somewhat uncertain..

It's not even nine o'clock yet, but she's exhausted already. She's been out in the sun for the majority of the day, and her emotions have been pulling her back and forth like a rag doll, leaving her dizzy and tired. But she looks at him and realizes he's hanging on her response a bit too heavily, and this may be more than a polite request. She cocks her head a bit, but before she can ask, he is explaining.

"I could use the company. These events are great but afterwards when everything winds down…"

"It feels a little empty in here." Regina finishes, stroking his back with a warm passing of her hand. "I get it. Do you want to talk about it?"

Robin grunts rolling his eyes at himself. "God, no. We've talked enough about all of that. I'd honestly love nothing more than to do anything but talk about it. At this point I'm boring myself. Mulan and John would always insist on babysitting me for every holiday, every major life event, and I thought that was just ridiculous, you know? Told them I really handled everything on my own. So now they believe me, finally, it seems, and I'm pissed at myself for finally realizing that I needed them distracting me after all."

Regina's fingers are still stroking his back, but now she lets them wander, spidering up his neck and scratching at his scalp, his short hair. This is too…. familiar. Too flirty, on the edge of being quite dangerous. She should stop. But he hums a bit, presses his head back into her palm. And she can't help but smile at that. She knows he is a sucker for a well-placed touch.

"Regina." His voice is a sigh, nearly a moan, and she bites her lip to keep from smiling. Heat licks up her spine, a tingle of anticipation for things she cannot have rising within her.

"Yes?" she asks innocently, her hand still wandering through his hair.

He lets out a little groan that almost sounds like a cat purring, closing his eyes as she scratches back down his neck to his back, giving him two affectionate taps before her hand falls away.

"Would you like to watch something on television? Something Henry isn't interested in watching with you, maybe?"

And honestly, the thought of watching television with another adult does sound nice.

"You know…" she smiles, "some sort of raunchy, stupid comedy would be great. Something where I don't have to think."

He flips through a few titles on his TV before landing on Fast Times at Ridgemont High, raising his eyebrows to her in question.

"Perfect," she says, indulging in a huge forkful of Roland's cake, moaning at the taste of chocolate and icing. Her mouth is half full, so she has to cover it with her hand when she declares, "this is, by far, the best child's birthday cake I've ever had."

"Goldie's Bakery," he says with a smile.

"I swear if I keep seeing you I'm going to gain 20 pounds," she jokes. "Street food at the festival, that picnic and all that junk food there, then there was that ice cream sundae—"

"Now, it was your idea to go to Treasure Island," he reminds her playfully.

"And your idea for me to get that sundae," she argues, "which, lets be clear, I don't regret, I'm just saying, if we start seeing much more of each other my waistline will suffer."

He looks at her and squints, as if analyzing her, and then shakes his head. "I would be willing to bet an awful lot of money that you'd look gorgeous no matter what you eat."

She snorts. "I really don't think that's true. But I'm still eating the rest of this cake."

"Good," Robin says with a laugh. "You deserve a little treat every now and then."

Attention shifts to the television for just a moment, but then they trade memories of the first time they saw this movie, and somehow the conversation shifts to their teenage years. She starts to feel sleep pulling at her, keeps fighting a yawn. She should really get going. But she's so comfortable and warm right here…

She keeps closing her eyes. Blinking, really, except each time she blinks her eyes seem to shut for longer. She shifts on the couch to find a more comfortable spot. Robin's hands find her back, rubbing it in these delightfully gentle strokes that relax every muscle. They continue to talk, but the pauses grow longer, and her eyes are now more often closed than open, the steady hum of the television underneath his soothing voice sounding more like white noise.

The next thing she knows, the movie is off, some late night television show is on in its place, the clapping of the audience cutting through her dreams. She can't remember how or when she nodded off, but it appears she slept right against him, her neck at the oddest angle against his shoulder, body curled up against his side, an arm looped around his torso as if she were holding onto him for dear life.

She's embarrassed by the position she's in, and that's why she darts up and out of it so sharply and quickly and — God, her neck hurts. She lets out a little yelp — cannot completely stifle the sound of pain as she wants to, and her hand immediately flies to the crook of her neck, desperately trying to rub out whatever pulled muscle has caused her distress.

"Come here," he says, motioning towards his body. "Let me rub that kink out for you. I should have known that position would twinge your neck, but I didn't want to wake you." His voice is so warm and smooth and calm, she could listen to that accent all day. He should just come over with a novel and read it out loud, a bedtime story every night, she'd sleep so soundly.

"How long have I been out?" Regina asks, trying to fight the embarrassment in her voice.

"Less than an hour. Maybe closer to a half hour. I turned off the movie, figured we could finish it later."

"Sorry," she sighs, still rubbing at her neck, "it's not even late, I can't believe I fell asleep."

"Nonsense, you were exhausted. I'm glad you got some sleep. Now I mean it, turn around, let me rub that kink out, it's the least I can do, after letting you sleep in that position and all."

She turns away from him and lets him take the lead, feels warmth radiating against her as he moves right behind her. He's good with his hands, she knows this, and god, the way he touches her, massages stiff muscles, and wills them to relax. She cannot help the whimpers and moans that fall when the gentle pressure loosens the constricted muscles and turns them to jelly. She feels a tingly wave go up her body, his touch does things to her, it has since the moment they first met.

And then she feels his hand slide lower, to at the hem of her blouse. It stays there as she feels his warm breath on her ear, "Is it okay if I go under your shirt?" he asks, and yes, yes, it's more than okay.

Except rubbing underneath her blouse will stretch it out, and it's so high and tight around her neck it's constricting.

She should be more modest but dammit, he's seen it all before and at this point she just wants a proper back rub, his skin on her skin. She'll keep her bra on, but….

"Hold on," she says, she's and she fiddles with he back button, grabs at the side zipper and pulls the top off with a sigh. Her back is to him, all he can really see is a bare back and neck, but her cheeks still flush red when his hands skim over her shoulders and thread through her hair. It's as if she can feel him appreciating her, feel him gawking at her, feel more than that, the way he cares, respects... it's so unexpected, all of this so unexpected but so very wanted.

She wants him. All of him.

She can't have him, but maybe she can at least indulge in a fantasy where she spins in his arms, straddles his lap, and kisses the life out of him.

Or maybe later she'll just do it.

What's the worst that could happen?

She's already kissed him before and the world didn't end, right?

She's going to kiss him, right after he stops massaging her like this, using those fingers and hands to light her nerves on fire and turn every aching muscle into putty. She'll just kiss him, for a little while, if he wants, they can just get it out of their systems...

He urges her backwards, tipping her head up to knead a bit more, thumbs digging deep into the knots in her back, palms wrapped around her shoulder, fingers by her clavicle. Her eyes are shut, and she's doing her damndest to bite back a moan. Just feeling the movement, and the way his fingers dance over the skin by her chest, and the way they skirt over that spot, that spot that feels a bit tender, and he's soothing the skin that feels a bit inflamed, it feels good, the way he's touching, but why is her skin raw there?

Oh, right. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

How could she forget about the bruises? Those few little reminders of what she is. Reminders to Robin of what she is. And more than that, they remind them both that she has been with another man recently, that she sleeps with men that aren't him, that she can never be with Robin.

She pulls away from him, hissing when she jerks her neck and head forward, and reaches to grab her blouse.

"This is a bad idea."

She's not looking at him, but she hears the urgency in his voice. "Regina—"

She cuts him off before he has a chance to say anything, still refusing to meet his eyes. "If you thought you had fixed me, and that I had stopped, you are an idiot."

"I know, and—"

"There are reasons I do this, and one of them isn't I just haven't met the right guy to show me I'm worth more than that. Alright? I have to do this and I'm not going to stop until— well not for a long time."

"I know! That's not what this is—-"

"Oh, don't give me that," she snarls, thinking of his hand tracing that bite on her collarbone, making it all too clear he wanted an explanation, "you know exactly what you were doing."

"No, Regina you misunderstand," he soothes. His eyes look so full of remorse, no, not remorse, something she can't place. He swallows heavily, and his hands thread through her hair, lifting up enough to touch at the sensitive skin underneath. The skin Mal told her was purple, shit, that can't look good. "Someone hurt you."

The concern is pouring out of every last syllable, and that look she couldn't identify is fear, he's scared for her, and she's so touched she can't say anything. She just stares back at him with tears in her eyes, mouth too dry to even attempt a word.

"I'm making no judgment on what you do. I'm not upset because you've... been with someone. Just... when I think about how dangerous this is…"

Oh.

"It's not that dangerous," she assures. "Not... usually."

"But these," he reaches for her, delicate fingers skate across her tender skin. She lets him, even tilts her head back as he touches the bruises between her neck and shoulder. "They look painful."

She puts that issue aside and focuses on Robin's question — the one he is afraid to voice, but has asked just the same. "It's not as bad as you think. You know I'm careful. I screen very well. And I, I try not to take in too many new clients." She swallows heavily. God, this is awkward to talk about. "I tend to deal in regulars only. It's easier. Safer. I only really open myself to new people when an old regular drops out. And I need to have a certain amount of clients because... there's a timeline in place. And I need to have…." She frowns, not really ready to go into what she needs out of this.

"You don't need to tell me why you do this," Robin says, alleviating her fears. She looks at him, incredulous, because he looks honest and truly just concerned.

"Right. My point is, you were my first new client in over six months. And this guy…" she points to her bruise, "was my first new client since you. And I won't see him again. I'll just find a new regular."

He still looks concerned. "Why couldn't I be your new regular?"

She tilts her head raises an eyebrow. "That was the idea…." she draws. "I selected you with that in mind — that you could be a regular. But then someone had to have a conscience and swear off the whole business," she smiles at him, tries to make it light, but that rotten look on his face isn't lifting, and this is awful.

"No, that's not what I mean," he explains slowly. "I mean why can't I be your new regular, now?"

Her blood turns to ice water for a second. Cold sweat draws from places she never imagined could sweat.

Not him. Never him.

Dear god, just let her have this one good thing in her life. One man who sees her differently. A guy who doesn't just see her as…

"You... want to pay me for sex? After everything—" she asks, her throat dry, voice shaky, despite her attempt to control it.

But his eyes go wide, and he's rushing to assure her, "No, no, not for sex. Just... for your time."

So it's charity.

She spent all day with him, hell, she was about to stick her tongue down his throat a second ago.

He's asking to buy something that's already been given to him.

Part of her really wants to take him up on the offer. But she'd rather keep Robin the way he is to her now. She wants him to see her as more than a damsel in distress, wants to appreciate him as more than just a client. She likes him too much, likes their friendship too much, to have it fall back into a work related arrangement.

"You don't have to pay me for my time." She motions to his house, but specifically to the porch, where he held her in his arms, where they just had a very intimate conversation. "I just spent the day with you. I... I like spending time with you, you don't…"

"You're busy," he argues, and then adds, "I don't get to see you as much as I like."

"I'm not a charity case," she argues, stiffening when she looks at him. She really needs to go, before those tears stinging at the back of her eyes threaten to break loose.

Robin sighs and shakes his head, his lip jutting out as if he's offended at the very thought.

"This isn't charity. I want to see you more. And I'd gladly pay to spend more time with you."

"You'd pay to spend time with me and not have sex?" She asks, incredulous.

To her surprise he doesn't try to qualify it, doesn't try to explain why he would pay her. He just nods his head.

"Absolutely."

She rolls her eyes and grabs at her top again and huffs out a sarcastic, "And that's all you want, nothing else."

His chuckle is unexpected but telling, and she raises an eyebrow pointedly in response. And then his face goes solemn.

"Of course I want more with you. You know how attracted I am to you. And you know I loved being with you, that one night. But I don't want it like that. Not again. Not because I'm paying you. I'd only want it if you wanted it. If you did it because you were being paid it wouldn't be… I wouldn't enjoy it. I promise. So no, in a way, I don't want more. I don't want anything you don't want to give me yourself."

She gives them a moment, just stares at him and takes in the unspoken implication of what he's saying.

"What would you even get out of this?"

He shrugs, and he looks a bit raw, a bit sheepish, before he lowers his gaze to his lap. "You know I'm a mess. The rest of the world does not, but you know. You know I've been half checked out as I go through life since Marian, and it's not fair to Roland, is it? I can't be the guy so desperate for attention yet so averse to moving on that he engages strangers for... intimacy. Trust me, I need help."

"So see a psychologist," she muses, because she doesn't have a degree and is ill equipped to deal with that.

"Oh I've tried… I couldn't ever bring myself to really tell them what goes on with me. I'm... not usually a talker. I don't feel comfortable opening up to people. But you, I can talk to you. And when I'm around you…" he takes a breath in and reaches out to stroke her cheek. It's incredibly intimate. It's not appropriate and she should pull away. But she leans into the touch instead. "I feel alive again."

"I don't think I can give you want you want," she whispers. "I can give you a fantasy date full of sexual tension that ends in a wonderful orgasm. That's pretty much it."

"You know that's not true." He's staring at her, directly into her eyes, and she tries to meet his gaze, but cowards out and shrinks away. "That's not what you're paid for."

"What am I paid for, then?" she asks, staring back at him, "Because I must be getting naked a lot for free if —"

"Are you telling me the only part of your job, when you are on the clock, is sex? Because that's a part of it, but we know it's a smaller part than any of your clients ever admit, isn't it?"

He sees her.

She's realizing now for the first time perhaps that he sees her, what she does, as more than the awful morally corrupt thing that it is. He sees good in it. She does too, sometimes, when she lets herself feel anything but disgust for who she is and what she does. Some days she clings to the feeling that she does help people with more than just scratching an itch. It helps her get by.

She never really let herself believe anyone as good and pure as Robin would see her like this.

He continues.

"You said you build your entire business on regulars. A group of men who like to hire strangers for sex keep coming back to you. You make them feel comfortable. You listen to them. You make them feel wanted, and appreciated. Maybe even loved. They wouldn't come back if it was just about the sex. And you know that."

"And how would you know?" She's defiant, and angry, because he's right, he's going to win this argument, and that makes him a good man who understands her. And that's just torture. There's an uncomfortable seed of hope, of yearning planted in her, and it has no right to be there.

She chose her path, and her path has consequences.

She doesn't get to be loved, or cherished, or appreciated. She doesn't get to have people know her whole self, ever. And if they did, they certainly wouldn't love her.

"Because I hired you. I saw you work, I know how it felt. It was one of the greatest nights I had since Marian died, and still would have been without the sex. And admitting that, given that it was all pretend, should embarrass the hell out of me, but you know what? I'm not embarrassed, because it's you, and that's how good you are at this. You make me feel comfortable. Few people do that."

She frowns, contemplating his words. She's not ready to appreciate the significance they have, not fully, but his eyes are wet and his voice cracks ever so slightly, and she knows what he's said did not come easily.

Because he likes her. Quite a bit. And he thinks that evening was pretend but it wasn't. But if he knew otherwise, what would it change? She'd still be leaving him.

She sucks in a deep breath. "Robin, a new client will typically spend upwards of $1,500 a month."

He shrugs. "I was thinking it would be more than that. I live relatively modestly, Regina, but I have a fair amount of money. I'd spend more in good therapy anyway."

She shakes her head, willing the tears pushing at her eyes to stand down.

She fails and her eyes feel wet and itchy, tears cutting into the brim of her eyelids.

"I don't want to lose you as a friend," she admits, "if this changes that…"

"Hey, hey, hey." He cups her chin, drawing her upwards. "It won't. I'd never risk that, okay? It means a lot to me, too. And we can set some rules just to make sure of that."

Her face scrunches up in confusion. "Rules?"

"Things that will make this less... awkward. Keep our business separate from our friendship."

She should be shooting all of this down —it's a terrible idea, and horrendously selfish of her to take him up on it, considering she will be taking his money to leave him and this city forever. But she finds herself motioning for him to continue, to explain this idea of his any way. "Like?"

"Well..." he scratches his head, his line of sight tips down towards his lap, and he frowns for a second before looking back up at her with renewed resolve. "We establish which dates are part of the arrangement. So you and I both know when you are 'off' the clock."

That would help. Just a few nights a month, it would work.

"I like that," she admits.

Her words encourage him, it seems, because he's jumping to his next request with a little smile on his face. "And every client has their own wishes right? I want you to speak your mind. I don't want you to change because that's what you think I'm paying you for."

She frowns. That she does not like, it sounds too much like giving her money for nothing. She's going to enjoy this too much. She's not going to let him pay her to wine and dine her, that's absurd. "If you want to have sex, I'm going to give it to you, if you are paying me I'm not denying you."

"I won't ask that of you," he assures. "So we don't have to worry about that scenario. But if you want to tell me I'm being an ass, tell me. If I'm whiny, tell me. If I make you uncomfortable, tell me. I'm paying you to be honest."

She nods slightly, stunned into silence.

"And I'll give you payment for the month up front, at a lunch or a dinner or hell, I just stop by the office with it, I don't care. But no money exchanges when you are on the clock, it'll remind me of the first time together, and then I'll feel like shit, and I think it's a mood killer for the whole evening."

"But…" She whispers. "Cash. I need the money in…"

Robin holds up his hand to stop her from trying to explain. "Cash, of course. Now, how many dates do your regulars go on a month?"

She feels her cheeks redden in shame. Telling him this doesn't exactly give away how active she is, but it does give him enough to work on.

"It depends... sometimes a client will make appointments three times in two weeks, and then I won't see them for over a month. It's not like clockwork. Some clients only like overnights. Some like the two hour sessions…" her mouth goes dry thinking of the gritty details that she'd rather Robin not hear of. She moves her hands up and down her thighs nervously, and then turns back to that shirt. God, she's been having this entire conversation in a nude colored bra that is way more see-through then she remembers. She turns, suddenly self conscious at how naked she is.

"Just forget it; this isn't going to work."

He seems entirely unbothered, reaching for her hand, looping his index and thumb around her wrist, pulling it towards him, eyes burrowing into hers. "I think it will. Let's do... one four-hour session and one two-hour session a month. Is that okay?"

"You want a four-hour session?" She asks incredulously. That's not dinner, that's dinner and dessert. "If you say you don't want sex, what would we even do?"

Robin's eyes light up, and he strokes the hand he's now holding, fingertrips tracing the lines of her palm in some random, soothing pattern. "We could take our sons out to a movie and dinner. Go to the park. Dinner and a movie, binge on a Netflix series. I wouldn't worry about that. I have endless ideas for what we will do."

And all of those things sound so nice — they are things she'd do without paying for them, after all. And that's the problem of it all. If she's having fun, getting a lot of out of this - perhaps more than he will get, it hardly seems fair. She pushes down the voice in her head that says that the fact she's this worried about fairness and wasting his money means she cares for him far too much.

Regina sighs, cocks her head and raises an eyebrow. "You want to pay me to watch Netflix with you?"

Robin laughs, reaches for his glass of water, and nods. "Oh, most definitely. I miss that aspect of a relationship, and you know, maybe I will want it again one day but for now... I quite enjoy spending time watching TV with you next to me."

But that's... well it's about $2,500 a month, according to her rates. He's asking her to eat meals with him and watch Netflix and pay her $2,500 for the privilege.

"You'd be paying me—"

"$2,500 a month," he says, smiling, "what I planned to pay when I offered this arrangement."

"$2,000," she amends before thinking enough to turn him down completely because god, she wants this. "It's a discount for regulars."

He opens his mouth to argue, but she's not backing down on this, and he must see it in her face, because he shuts it, locks eyes with her, and sighs. "As long as I'm not eating up time you could be spending earning more, we can agree to that." He rubs a hand through his hair. "Please, I'm asking you to just give me this time. There's something about you — you can settle my nerves, put me at ease, make me laugh, you make me feel that it's alright to move on, or to mourn, or to… anything. I haven't felt at peace with any of those things before you. I want more of that feeling. So trust me, this isn't me trying to save you. Quite the opposite."

Maybe this isn't healthy for him. He should go on real dates with real women who deserve him. Build a real relationship. She can't give him that, can never give him that, and he may be holding out hope for that, so maybe she should just…

But when she looks into his eyes all she sees is that perfect, beautiful man begging her to let him spend time with her, and she won't deny him this.

"You're crazy." A smile as big as a rainbow takes over her face. She hears her mother voicing her concerns, calling her what she is. Foolish. Reckless. Damned. Rotten.

And maybe she's all those things, but in this moment she is also Happy. Grateful. Appreciated.

He hugs her tight then, and murmurs into her ear, "I'm taking that as a yes."

She isn't ready for words yet, so she just leans back and hums affirmatively into his neck. When she breaks from the hug she's rubbing her sore neck and smiling at him, still at a loss for words.

"We'll plan over email or text. And either one of us are allowed to stop any time, and no hard feelings if we do, okay?"

"Absolutely," Robin says, crossing his heart for impact.

She still feels uneasy, like he will regret this. Especially when he finds out what she plans to do with the money. She bites her lip and sighs. "Are you sure you don't mind not knowing what I'm going to do with your money? I mean, you aren't like the others, you know—"

"I don't, though. I don't know why you need the money. I know it's not to feed an addiction, or anything that will cause harm to you or Henry. You are too smart for that. I assume it's probably best if I don't know the details. And I trust your judgment enough to think it's necessary."

"You're not at all… curious?" she asks, raising an eyebrow, and Robin laughs, looking like his hand is stuck in the cookie jar.

"I'm incredibly curious," he admits. "But I don't want to push you to tell me something you aren't comfortable sharing. And maybe one day that will change, but until it does, I won't ask that of you."

She frowns, contemplating his words. Her hands idly rub at her back, not sure what her next move will be.

Luckily, Robin has a solution. His voice is strong, but gentle, as he implores, "Come here, you, and let me finish that back rub."

She laughs, and fiddles with the strap of the bra that's been digging into her shoulder. And you know what?

She turns so her back faces him, then reaches to the back clasp of her bra and undoes it, letting the offending garment slide off her body. She revels when his breath hitches, feels the way he appreciates her in his touch. He's riled up, it seems, but determined to be a gentleman.

"I can't believe I forgot about the marks," she chuckles. He digs knuckles into tense back muscles. It's actually rather nice, this impromptu massage. She misses being touched like this, by someone who doesn't expect her to reciprocate tenfold, just being rubbed down to make her feel good. "I was so worried about someone seeing them this morning, it was always on my mind. But then I guess, you make me so comfortable… I just forgot."

"It's nothing to worry about," Robin says, his voice all throaty and deep. "If you think they look like lovemarks, you're wrong. They look like they hurt."

"I wouldn't want someone asking me about the nasty bruises either," Regina sighs, concentrating on how his hands feel, the steady kneading at the knot at the base of her neck. "And of course it had to be a pool party, of all things—"

"Is that why you didn't get in the pool?" Robin asks, "I was wondering about that, you—"

"I probably wouldn't have gone swimming anyway for some different reason," she sighs as his hands rub at her shoulders. "I mean, I love the water, I always have. But I haven't gone swimming all summer, probably won't get a swim in before labor day. Something always seems to come up. I'm afraid I'm not exactly fun."

She hears Robin scoff behind her, and she almost turns to face him, to ask what he finds so incredulous, but her neck is twinges, so she grunt and mutters, "What?"

"You're plenty fun." Robin explains. "I've heard from Henry all about the games you play with him and his friends. And I've seen you go down a huge inflatable slide, participate in a pitch contest at a street festival, sign up for dance lessons last minute… you're a lot of fun."

She supposes that is true, things have been so different since she met him. Not that she's complaining. But still… he should know this person he thinks is her just isn't.

"I'm not," she grimaces. "Not like them. It seems like I've always got something going on, pulling my attention away from the moment. And I don't have long leisurely weekends to soak up sun and take Henry on beach trips or amusement parks, like Cindy or Rachel. I'm not carefree the way they are, I watched them giggling and sipping cocktails in the pool, all tanned and beautiful. I can't even risk having a drink. I'll never be the bubbly woman in the bright bikini throwing back a pink cocktail, talking about what tropical vacation they are planning next."

Robin laughs. "No. You are a bit more complicated than that. I'm glad for it."

"I'm not glad for it," she mutters. "Sometimes I just want to be as impulsive and carefree as I was for those few years before Henry. When Daniel and I… I was different then. And sometimes I just wish I could have that, but I can't even dip into the pool at a party. I'm the uptight bundle of nerves and problems, I just…" She frowns, and finally gives voice to the thing that has been weighing on her chest. "I can tell some of those women wanted you, and they weren't all awful, as much as Ruby complained. You deserve carefree, easy fun. And I don't know why—"

"I don't want any of those women," Robin says behind her, in a tone that sounds almost ridiculous. His hands keep rubbing at her back, slow, steady. There. "I can't force myself to feel things I don't. And let me make things clear; I've only felt anything with you. And it's not because I was paying you, alone. I tried that twice before, and—"

Regina smiles to herself, cuts him off from having to admit the embarrassing details. "One of them contacted me after our meeting and asked if you had actually gone through with our date. She told me what happened with her. And apparently the woman before her had shared, too. I know the details. I guess you had trouble, um, going through with it, before."

She hears a little whimper, something muttered she can't quite catch, before he speaks in a clearer voice. "Yeah… I'm forever grateful that those details were not shared until, um, after our date. You probably would have known I was a lost cause and tried to get rid of me."

"No, I like a challenge," Regina assures coyly, closing her eyes as he rubs at her back. "I might have taken things a bit slower had I known."

"Then I'm glad you didn't," he says and she can't help it anymore, she turns, damn her twinged neck and all, turns to see him. His cheeks are streaked with crimson, he looks adorable. "I mean, it was pretty perfect as it was."

She laughs, and now his ears and neck are red as a well, eyes darting away from hers, adding, "I mean, I shouldn't have, I probably, if I could take it back…"

"You regret it?" She asks, a wave of anxiety building inside her as her neck spins back around, her eyes now focused on the wall in front of her instead of the man behind her.

"It made you uncomfortable, when we met in your office. And I can't help but think had we not had that history, maybe things with us would have been easier, you could have trusted—"

She shakes her head, then arches her neck into his palms. He get the point, rubs the tender spot a little more firmly. "I would have assumed you would have been disgusted at the real me, and we never would have been anything more than work associates." She says plainly.

"But maybe if I had left before um, things got physical—"

"I would have thought you looked down on me, that you had something on me you could use against me, and probably would have kept you at a distance." And it's true, really. Had he walked out on her that night she would have been the one accepting sex for money, and he would have been the one with clean hands walking away from her. At least now, they are both guilty. "I admit it made things awkward at first, and I wished I hand't answered your email, but um, that was before I got to know you better, and that never would have happened if you hand't."

She breaks out of the massage then, one of her hands demurely covering her breasts, just to look at him. So he can see how serious she is, how much she means it.

"Oh." He says, a smile cracking over his face like the sun rising over the horizon. He has these smiles that light up a room, but he doesn't use them often, so it makes it all the more special when he gives one to her. "Do you still wish you hand't have answered that email?" he asks.

No. She thinks, but also yes. She's glad she answered it, for so many reasons. She has a friend now, a good looking friend who flirts with her and makes her feel appreciated. She has someone to confide in, to help when she feels weak. But he has also made her life more difficult. He's made her exit strategy harder now, because she's attached to him. And she doesn't want to leave.

"I like knowing you this way, but, I… it's… It's complicated." She measures, not wanting to lie. But she can't help but smile.

"Mhm," Robin nods, still smiling at her. He reaches for a lock of hair and tucks it behind her ear, and her cheeks heat. "It definitely is."

They look at each other in silence, and Regina tries to work out what he's thinking. And then he slaps his palms on his knees and says, "Come on. I have an idea."

"What?" She looks at him with dramatically narrowed eyes, as if she is trying hard to show her reluctance here. But she trusts him, she does, and would probably follow him anywhere.

As scary as that is to admit.

"You said that I deserve carefree, easy fun. And you know what? So do you. So we're going to do something carefree and fun."

"Is the massage over then?" She draws carefully, raising an eyebrow.

"For now," Robin says. "But I don't want this day to be too solemn and us to drone on about regrets and the lack thereof, and how complicated things are. I'd much rather jump in the pool with you."

She wrinkles her nose and wraps both arms around her chest, it's discomfort disguised as modesty. "I don't have my suit."

"Perfect. Skinny-dipping seems carefree and fun."

"Not going to happen," Regina mutters, "but enjoy the pool yourself."

"You could wear your underwear, I can wear mine." He exhales slowly, rubbing his hand over his hair. "Look, I can't give you much to calm your nerves, or make you feel better in many ways, but you said you like to swim, and it kind of kills me that you spent the day worried about a few marks and couldn't properly enjoy yourself. So I want a do-over. Come swimming with me, enjoy the first swim of the summer with me. Please?"

She's not a child who needs to play in a pool, for god's sake. At her age, pools should solely be used for swimming laps or dipping in casually to avoid the heat. She doesn't need to float and flop around in the moonlight,

"This is really stupid," she says, reaching for the bra that is still on the floor, turning back around to put it on. "And this bra is nude; it's going to be see through the second I jump in."

"Not exactly a selling point for why we shouldn't do this," Robin says, sparkle in his eye. "In fact, I now must insist that you take your beautiful body to the pool right now."

He doesn't push, though, it's just a light tease, something that has her laughing and shaking her head.

But she finishes putting her bra on, grimacing. She could have picked a more flattering one for the day. Still, it fits well, and it's nice enough, plain, but clean, just a bit of lace around the edges to look sexy, but nothing that would have her upset about jumping into a vat of chlorinated water.

"You're overdressed," she points out.

He smiles, rushes to take off his shirt (her eyes roam over his body shamelessly, she doesn't mind at this point, and doubts he does). "Alright then, allow me to lead the way."

She follows him down the stairs, to the sliding door entrance to the backyard. He grabs a few towels from the wicker basket by the door, then flips a light switch and the pool lights come on, bright blue water shining and dazzling under starlight.

Robin opens the sliding glass door, and turns, looking at her.

He must pick up on something — a hint of hesitation, her sudden shyness. "Second thoughts?" he asks.

"No," she says, unable to stop biting her lip, brushing hair back, feeling absolutely ridiculous over how nervous she is over a late night dip in the pool. "I mean, I still think it's silly, and it will probably be cold."

"It's 80 degrees outside, and the pool is currently 84 degrees." Robin smiles. "Next excuse."

She's silent, smiles and shrugs. "84 degrees sounds nice."

"Mhm," Robin says, fiddling with the waist of his jeans. He raises an eyebrow, til she nods permission, and then he's dropping-trou.

He's wearing these grey boxer briefs, a black band that says HANES repeatedly across the waist.

He hovers by the door, waiting for her.

Regina shimmies out of her jeans, wincing at the fact she's wearing the comfortable, black cotton underwear that is the furthest thing from sexy.

But then she peels off those jeans further, and a bruised, swollen knee comes into view. She winces.

When she glances up at him, it's very clear he's noticed. His eyes are focused on it, and as quickly as he tries to look away, he's been caught.

She's about to explain, try to excuse the swollen purple marks, but then he speaks first, shaking his head. "Alright then. I grabbed us towels. You coming?"

It's just nice. Not having to explain. Having him accept her and every broken battered part that makes up her past and present.

She steps out into the warm night air behind him.

He dives headfirst into the deep end of the pool, every muscle highlighted by the reflective, brightened water and the light of the moon.

She watches every indulgent second of him diving in, and coming back to the surface, all wet and toned and gorgeous. And then she dives in herself.

It's actually thrilling, swimming at night like this, and it's been awhile since she's been in a pool without a child beside her - too long, actually. The last time would be for a job. With a client.

God, it's been years since she's felt this free.

The water is cool, but not cold, it envelops her as she dives into it. She hears the small ripple of a splash around her - not too big, she is a swimmer, after all, with years of swim team and diving team under her belt, it seems she fell into the proper diving form without much need for a refresher.

The water hits her pointed toes last, and instead of swimming up towards the surface, she swims down for a bit, force of habit.

She loves the tranquil quiet of the deep end of a pool, and it's somehow nicer at night, when the lights add little auras of warmth around the darkened depths.

She feels at ease here, always has, and now, it seems, is no exception. Despite the fact she's wearing a bra and some old cotton underwear instead of a proper suit.

She swims to the bottom, out of instinct, then flips and opens her eyes, looking up at the surface from the bottom. She's oddly aware of Robin up there, treading water, looking down at her, but now she's just alone, for a second, taking in every relaxing, soothing moment, letting her mind and body go back to a simpler time, when she had time for leisurely, selfish hours to swim and relax in the water.

She stays there until her lungs burn and itch for air, and god, she misses this feeling, loves it, actually, needing to breathe, but holding back seeing how long she can hold out, how many more seconds her body can be deprived of that life saving oxygen.

She draws it out, waits until that tingle of panic creeps through her, and then she darts up quickly to the surface, shooting up like a lightning bolt, tossing her head back when she hits the cool air, taking it in an indulgent, loud gasp.

Her hair is slicked back, curls wrapping around the back of her neck as she struggles to catch her breath, her smile so big her face hurts.

She focuses on Robin, and notices he isn't wearing the same energetic looks. He looks a bit… timid.

"Thought you were drowning for a second there," he admits, swimming towards her. "I was actually about to—"

"No, I… I am an excell—excellent swimmer." She is still catching her breath when she pants out, "I just like being underwater. It's…" she concentrates on her breathing, willing it to return to normal. She's out of practice, sure, but she thought she'd recover more quickly than this. "It's very peaceful down there."

"Mhm, I bet when you were little you wanted to be a mermaid."

Regina laughs, and splashes him teasingly. "How did you know?"

"Marian was like you, a fish in the water. Told her first grade teacher that was what she wanted to be when she grew up." He says it without that trace of pain that always shoots across his face when he mentions Marian to her, and it's nothing, nothing to draw attention to at all, but it melts her heart into a drippy puddle.

"I'd love to be a mermaid," she admits. She's right up against him now, and there's no sense in keeping distance, so she lets herself touch him, lets her arms playfully loop around his neck.

He sighs, as he looks at at her, head tilting in that way, and everything goes quiet. She can't even hear the crickets chirping over the sound of her own heart.

But before he can kiss her, she's using those arms around his neck to push him under, dunking him fast, laughing at the surprised sound he makes.

When he resurfaces, his eyes are narrowed playfully as he tells her, "You are dead."

He swims towards her as she backs away, a little playfully shriek coming out of her mouth that sounds far too young, far too wild, to be her.

"You wouldn't dare," she says, her body swimming backwards as she watches him stalk towards her.

"Wouldn't I?" he asks, and then he swims quickly towards her.

He's a good swimmer himself, fast, strong, and she tries to dart out of his path, almost does, but he's able to catch her toe, just her toe, grabbing it with a strong grip underwater and pulling her back towards him.

There's some playful horseplay; limbs thrashing against one another as they attempt to pin and block, bodies wiggling to separate, pushing to get closer, until Regina's legs are wrapped around his waist, hands locked in his as she tries to dunk him under the water.

She almost has him, but then he twists and frees his hands from hers and reaches down to her waist, pulling her backwards and down into the water.

She shrieks, and giggles as the water washes over her.

She doesn't like to lose. Not normally. But this time is an exception.

When she surfaces again, she has to spit out some water that's found its way inside her mouth, and Robin is laughing, and so is she, and she feels absurdly light, almost dizzy and giddy.

"Rude," she says lightly, as she swims towards him in the shallow end. Robin shrugs, and pulls her close, like they were before, but without the rough housing.

"Sorry," he says, and it takes her a second or two to realize he meant to apologize for dunking her.

"You're forgiven," she says primly. "This time."

He doesn't respond to her teasing tone, he's too busy looking at her.

"You look beautiful right now." His voice is deep, husky, and she feels his arms tighten around her.

"I'll bet," she grimaces, thinking of what she must look like, makeup running, lingerie soaked.

"Truly," he assures, running a hand through the soaked strands of her hair. "I don't think I've seen you laugh like this before. It's very… attractive."

"I was choking on pool water and snorting," she reminds, but Robin's hands just slide up her back, the steady current tickling her spine.

"Beautiful," he says again, lower this time, his head tilting into hers.

"Do you know," Regina asks, shifting the conversation to something that makes her less… unnerved, "that I was on swim team for nearly 10 years of my life?"

"I didn't," Robin answers, "I'm not surprised, though."

"Mother didn't approve," Regina sighs, "She was so happy when I took up diving. Diving is elegant and graceful. Swimming is all about power and speed. It required muscle, all this weight training. But I loved how strong it made me feel."

"You still are," he reminds, "I mean, literally, I very nearly lost that little game we had back there. Your legs are… surprisingly muscular."

Regina brings one leg up to his side and kicks against underwater, not too hard, but firmly, enough to prove him right. He offers her a choked laugh, eyebrows raising in surprise.

"Not as strong as they once were," she says coyly. "But good enough, should I need to use them."

"Feel free to use them against me anytime," he mutters, breath coming out in hot puffs on her forehead, and she can't help but hum and tilt towards him..

A playful streak comes across her, and she knows it's the nostalgia surrounding her, replaying the happier parts of her youth.

"Help me onto your shoulders," she asks, bending her knees, treading in the water, trying to climb up his body.

He bends down far enough so she can climb up his body and plant her feet on his shoulders, grabbing his hands to steady herself as she stands up. Getting into this position definitely had her crotch situated a bit too close to his face, but in the moment, she finds she doesn't much care.

The air feels nice on her wet skin, and it gives her goosebumps, the slight warm breeze tickling at her. She is facing behind him now, so she can't look down to tell if he finds this new game endearing or painful, but something tells her he's enjoying it all the same.

"When I was younger…" She starts, planting her feet into his shoulder more solidly, "I was quite good at this. The best, in fact."

She presses her feet into him and springs back as her back arches.

She's out of practice.

It's not a perfect dive by any stretch of the imagination, she's slightly under-rotated, and splashes hard into the water, but fuck, does it ever feel fun.

And that's the first thing she says to him as she lifts her head above water.

He is looking at her in that charming way she's grown addicted to, and she fits herself right back against him. Wrapping her legs back around his waist, same as before, and he lifts her up, holding her above him, smiling at her like there's nothing else in the world.

Her arms wrap around his neck, holding him as close as she can get with still being able to see his face.

And it's a nice face. He's smiling at her, a tender, small little thing, his eyes burrowed into hers.

"Your turn," she whispers to him in a teasing tone. They are a breath apart, and everything is soft and still.

"My turn to do something fun?" he asks, but before she can tell him she meant it was his turn to stand on her shoulders, he's tilting his head and closing the distance between their lips.

Regina is fairly certain she's the one who moves that final centimeter in towards a kiss.

He tastes a bit like icing and birthday cake, oddly, just sweet and wholesome and delicious.

His grips tightly at her, wet hands sliding up her back, pressing her further into him as he kisses her harder.

She loses herself in the feeling for a good while, lets things go from a few kisses to a heated makeout session. She has a hand on his cheek, the other on the back of his head, her legs now have a vice grip around his waist.

"Sorry," he gasps, breaking out of the kiss as if he just realized that's not something they normally do. "Couldn't help myself."

She bends down to cover his neck and jaw in kisses, and mutters, "I wasn't complaining."

Her legs slide, just a bit down from his upper torso to his hips, and that's when she feels it.

Not that she should be surprised, god knows she is aroused, but she's in his arms, making out with him in her underwear, and he's hard for her, and probably thinking that this is going in a certain direction.

The thought of that stops her, has her pulling away, far back enough to see Robin's face screwed in a remorseful cringe.

"I, ummm…" she thinks of how to word this, but he's already telling her he's sorry again, which is ridiculous, because she should be sorry. "I can't… I don't want to—"

"God, then we'll stop, you didn't have to, I don't want you to think—"

"No, I wanted to kiss you, I just, I don't think it would be fair to you to do more, and the nature of our relationship, is—"

"I'm not asking for more," Robin says simply, as if it is preposterous to assume otherwise.

She glances down between them, and raises an eyebrow.

"Well, I can't help that," He chuckles, and even in the moonlight, she can see the ends of his ears turn red. "You are who you are, I doubt I'll ever be able to control myself when you're all pressed against me and kissing me. But that doesn't mean I expect anything. You're beautiful, and absolutely enchanting, and I want to kiss you. Until you tell me to stop, that is. I don't want anything you can't give, and I won't be upset if you want to stop it. I promise."

She's not used to this, though. Not used to men not expecting to have their way with her and get nothing in return..

"So you're okay just making out with me, with things getting heated, and then just… settling down and watching a bit of TV?"

"Mhm," Robin says through curled lips, "anything you want. Trust me, I was fairly certain when I started kissing you that this wasn't leading anywhere. And I didn't mind — quite the contrary. Nothing is expected of you, I promise. And if you want to stop—"

She doesn't want to stop, it turns out, because she's kissing him again, shutting him up by placing her lips on top of his. She loves this, the idea he won't ever make her feel like something is expected of her, like she's teasing, or leading him on, or like she's signed up for a certain end of the night scenario that's already been written.

This is just them, in the moment, no future string of events set in stone.

So she keeps kissing him, for now, let's herself indulge in what is right before her without thinking about consequences or worrying about the motives of the man in front of her.

It feels safe, and warm, passionate, yet oddly grounding.

His hands do eventually wander, slide down to grope at the swell of her bottom, grinding into soaked cotton. She rocks into the touch, mimics his action, and one-ups him, her hands sliding down underneath the drenched fabric of his boxers, cupping at the slippery skin underneath.

She feels his chuckle against her lips, but when she kneads into him more firmly, he doesn't laugh, only moans, rocking into her core.

It's like that for awhile, they trade hot kisses and inappropriate touches, she encourages him as he puts a hand underneath her own underwear.

He doesn't wander to places too inappropriate, just cups grabs at her in a way that makes her whole body tingle.

Things start building inside her until she's flushed and hot, grinding into him to seek relief. And the very moment she reaches that point where chasing pleasure seems like a necessity, she comes to her senses and puts the brakes on everything.

She releases his mouth in a violent smack, treads back just enough, so she's no longer touching where he is hard for her.

She locks eyes with him, waiting to find anger, entitlement or disbelief.

He gasps at the loss of her and then is breathing heavy, keeping the distance between them with a fucking smile on his face.

"Sorry," Regina breathes, because she is, really. She can't fuck him tonight, can't let him get close to her when his emotions are running high on his son's birthday. Not when he's nearly broke down emotionally at least twice today.

And definitely not when she has not yet told him that she is planning on leaving this city and his life forever.

Because he kisses her far too sweetly and he cares too damn much for her to just use him like this, knowing he's letting her in in a way he doesn't let others. Knowing that she will just hurt him further if she fucks him in a home he shared with his wife, and then leaves him like he never mattered at all.

He deserves better than that.

"No need to say sorry," he assures, still a bit winded.

"No I… I got carried away. I shouldn't have, um, I shouldn't have jumped on you like that," she feels her cheeks burning.

"Did you do it because you wanted to?" he asks, stroking her arm, the gentle touch acting as a balm for her nerves. "Because if so, then you absolutely should have."

"Of course I wanted it." Her brows furrow in confusion, but Robin's slight smile tells her he really did worry about her desire. Maybe he thought she was only doing it for him. "I… I can't keep doing this with you. Especially today, with everything you have been feeling all day with Roland's birthday. I'm being selfish." And that just has his entire face lighting up.

"Good." He smirks. "You deserve to be a bit selfish sometimes."

Not if it comes at the price of hurting one of the few people who has been good to her.

"This won't end well," she warns him. "And it's not… it's not a good time, after the day you just had, things are, a bit raw. We just shouldn't do this, certainly not now. Trust me. There are still things you don't know."

He contemplates her words, and she can tell he considers arguing with her, but must decide against it, the way he sighs in defeat. "Okay. But for the record, I'm not even a little bit conflicted over what we're doing right now. And I won't ever be. I know it. And I won't push you to tell me things I don't yet know. I won't push you in any way. But… well, I just really like you."

She hates herself because she blushes deeply, and she can't entirely hide the smile that creeps across her face, before forcing herself to look sternly at him and say. "I know, but Robin, this can't happen."

"I know," he rushes to say, "I do. And I respect that. I won't ask for any more of you, I swear. I have a crush, the first crush I've had since Marian, and… it feels nice. It doesn't make me feel guilty, or wrong, the way it has when I've thought about seeing other women. It feels nice with you, and I'm grateful for it. And I am going to be grateful for it no matter what happens, no matter how this ends, okay?"

She wants to argue with him, because he really doesn't know that. If they get as close as he wants — as they both want — what will he think when she disappears one day?

Mal's voice is in her head, telling her to go all in, to just tell him already. And she really should, it's just…

Well she's confessing a crime to him. And if he knows her plan, he could be in a tight spot. So it's… it's just not something to blurt out while swimming in underwear at midnight.

She shivers. "I'm starting to get cold," she sighs, looking at her fingers, "and pruny."

Robin looks at his own fingers and smiles. "Should our next competition be Who Can Make It Into the House First?

She practically leaps out of the water, throws a towel around her body loosely, and darts back towards the house, Robin on her heels.

.::.

He's not really sure what's gotten into him, lately. It's midnight, his son his sleeping upstairs, and he's outside, running in wet boxers that badly conceal an erection, chasing after a woman he likes far too much, that has directly told her he has no future with, yet he likes just the same.

Loves.

He's in love with her.

There's no doubt about it, no sense denying it or qualifying it as anything else.

He'd follow her anywhere, do nearly anything to see her smile, and his heart aches every time he sees her uncomfortable.

Her hair is curly, it turns out. He'd known that before, but he didn't know exactly how curly until now, when it's drying in spiraled tendrils. It is gorgeous, especially like this, unruly and free.

She had smoothed a hand over those messy tresses, complaining that her hair will dry into a frizzy puff, but she hasn't tied it back yet like she's said she ought to, hasn't tried to hide its natural state from him, and he is grateful.

Every little new thing he finds out about Regina just has him even more smitten.

She's next to him now, smelling of plain dove soap and his laundry detergent, looking criminally sexy in his long sleeve shirt and sweats.

She's not wearing anything underneath those clothes, he knows that, because her soaked unmentionables are air drying in his basement bathroom. That thought causes another punch of lust within him, mixing into the swirling emotions in his mind.

He knows this is going nowhere but god, it's still thrilling, and new, and wonderful, feeling things for someone again.

She is sipping on tea, warming up on his couch as they watch an episode of Arrested Development.

"You sure you can't stay?" he asks, after watching her yawn yet again. "You look tired. And the guest room bed is all made up and ready for you."

"I'm sure, thank you." She shakes her head in some attempt to wake herself up, and sighs, "I have so much to do tomorrow, and…" She scrunches her nose in that adorable way she has, "I'd really like to get back into some underwear."

Robin nearly spits out his tea at that, laughing. "I'm almost regretting my idea to swim. Almost."

Her lips split into a toothy smile. God, he loves the sight of her smiling. "This was… really nice, Robin. You've no idea how much I needed this." She rubs at the back of her neck, and he sees the hint of the purple bruises underneath the damp curls, a reminder of the weight she carries on her shoulders, of the terrible things in her life she's mostly shielded him from.

Regina is involved in something dangerous, careful as she is, and Robin can't ever tell her to stop. He can't even ask her for more of her story.

It's not easy, loving her.

And yet it happened just the same, and it's terrifying and painful and wonderful.

He knows people would think this arrangement is absurd, paying someone he loves just to spend time with them. Pathetic, and most people might think Regina is manipulative… But it keeps her from trying to find someone new, and avoids situations like whatever that man did to her shoulders, her neck, her knee. And Robin will benefit from it, because he'll get to see her, and she has this way with him, this way of making him feel human again. So fuck what others would think. This works. For now, at least. He's going to be her new client, and he's going to be a perfect gentleman, and treat her the way she deserves.

She readies herself to leave when she takes the last sip of her tea, grabbing her still-damp garments from the bathroom. She promises to wash and dry the clothes he lent her, and he fights the urge to beg her not to. He quite likes her scent on his clothes, after all.

He wants to kiss her goodbye, desperately, but when they reach the door, he can tell she's too anxious, too worried about the moment, so he opens his arms instead.

She goes willingly, folds herself into him, gripping him unexpectedly tightly, hugging him for far longer than he thought she'd let him.

"Text me when you get to your place," he whispers into her hair, "just so I know you got in okay."

"It's a fifteen minute drive," Regina points out. "But, if you insist…."

"It's late, and you're tired. I do insist."

"Alright. Thank you for everything tonight," she breathes again.

The house feels empty and cold when she leaves. Robin cleans, distracts himself from his knocking heart.

He's in bed for the night when he sees her text, assuring him she made it safe.

He's exhausted, and so is she, but somehow that message turns into a one hour chat back and forth.

Sleep claims him eventually, his mind dizzy and drunk on emotion, as he stubbornly hopes and dreams of things he knows he cannot have.