"I knew this would happen, Robin," Little John extolled furiously, his voice a dark growl that rumbled through the cave of his scowl deformed mouth. His eyes seemed akin to black pits hooded over a sloped, heavy brow as he glared angrily at the archer. "I told you, I said the first day she was here, Robin you're going to regret this!" Hand balled into a fist he waved the meaty appendage about like a club in his barely suppressed rage before their clever leader. "And look what's happened. Did you hear what he said? He thinks that witch is here as some kind of mother!"

In less than two months she had gone from outsider to mother to the boy! That was the price of Robin's "charity" a situation in which placed his son's emotions in truant peril.

Leaning against a bole ridden oak, arms crossed the outlaw faced his invariably displeased men. Face immutably placid and devoid of emotion the archer gave a brisk nod to the big man. "I recall John," he replied quietly and scratched the right edge of his lip with his thumb. His eyes looked to the freshly leaf strewn ground, now trampled and dirtied, with ponderous intent. What else could he say but that? He couldn't deny the words, only own up to their prophesy come to life.

The old words John had portended, had too swum through his mind after Roland's happy revelation. He had not put voice to the thought though in fear of upsetting his son.

Roland, quite inexplicably continued on with his celebration, oblivious to the elephant he had just conjured in the midst of the camp with his heartfelt wish. He had innocently asked could he cut the cake and like a rickety, ancient cart the celebration had continued on with the lad none the wiser to what he had done.

Oh but that could not be said for anyone else in the camp. Every eye had glared upon Robin for the rest of the night. When they did not address Roland their emotion strewn faces peered at him as though he had grown three horns on the crown of his head and a fox tail!

After the gifts had been dispensed, treats eaten, and Roland had been put to bed, the gathering had been taken well out of earshot of the lad. Regina had disappeared as soon as the celebration was at an end, which, to all of them save Robin was more than fine.

" 'You recall'," Allan snorted mockingly in a savage jeer. "That's all you have to say? Oh that's all well and fine then," the swordsman shot venomously through the darkness, his voice a firm display of his piqued emotions. "We'll just say you remember and forget the entire thing then?"

The outlaw held a once crossed arm out to the gathering. "What do you want me to say? I can't stop Roland from thinking what he thinks? If you want to harangue me be my guest but that will not solve anything!"

Did they simply except him to go back in time and repair what they supposedly ascertained was wrong?

"We're not here to talk about the past, Robin," Tuck reasonably explained his voice sagacious. "We're here to deliberate upon the future and what this all means."

Did the ex-witch have a place of power now in their camp? Was she a tick, never to be plucked out of their hide? Had she really fallen into a replacement for saintly Maid Miriam in Roland's eyes?

"Not without me you're not," Regina decreed coolly as she appeared at the fringe of their enclave. A grim frown adorned her face as though carved there by a chisel. Her skin was a ghastly, regal pale in the moonlight that only more so expressed her chilled displeasure.

Though she wasn't one of them, she couldn't be left out of such a discussion. Not when she had so much to say.

"You weren't invited here." John's bulk obstinately blockaded her path. A bear could not have looked so intimidating as he did glaring murderously upon her form. She had been trouble since she had stepped foot in camp!

A sneer lofted upon her lips as she eyed the hulk with imminent disdain. "Yet here I am, brute." Sweeping past the man as though he were an irksome gnat, she entered the meeting brazenly. Her eyes scanned them all, her orbs cold and testy. "If you're going to talk about me anyway I'd like to be here to see what you have to say."

"You've no right!" Allan exposed heatedly. Furiously, he slammed a fist in utter frustration through the air and stomped challengingly to the witch. "You're not one of us! You're a stray, a dangerous stray."

"Enough!" Robin shouted, silencing the dissent. Throwing his hands out between them he stood in the middle to keep them apart. Eyes cold as shards of brown glass, he glared at them all sternly. "We'll have none of that here. She has a right enough as any of us."

Face hard the fallen monarch stepped away from the enraged Allan. Circling the commune like a dangerous, cornered tiger, she glared at them all. "Don't worry I won't be here long. I've come with a solution," she explained, her voice dangerously soft.

"To the problem you started," grumbled John bitterly, his eyes narrowed precociously.

The ex-queen sneered disgustedly at the interruption but continued. "Nevertheless I come to give my aid. I understand Roland's words came as a surprise to us all. I did not meant to put such thoughts into his head. Given the circumstances I will extricate myself from this situation. After three days I will…," she paused uncertainly, "Break the news to Roland in a way that will let him down easily, then I'll be out of your hair."

That was the best recourse in her estimation, she guessed after she ran the problem through. To leave before he got any more attached would be best. How he had come to see her as some mother figure was a mystery to her, but that didn't mean she could let such things proliferate. No, better to nip that awkward assumption of a matron quickly before Roland truly got attached.

Surprise donned the not so merry men's faces at her frontal suggestion. Head swung from side to side as they deliberated in quiet voices. A low murmur rose from the group but their words were indiscernible. Was getting rid of her that simple?

"Truly?" Little John asked as though she was playing some trick. Was she really volunteering to depart?

Falling back to his previous position, Robin pinioned his gaze upon her as well. Fine lines faintly traced his brow in dour suspicion. "Are you certain Regina?" he queried carefully.

"It's the best way without hurting him in the future." She crossed her arms to fend off the chill and shrugged her shoulders. Cool gaze steely the former queen observed their reactions with a noble grace of one who cared if they were yea or nay.

Slowly nodding Little John frowned grimly. "Aye, at last we agree." He turned to Robin, his eyes hard chips of obsidian. "Unless a certain someone thinks otherwise," impertinently growled the hulk

Battle raged angrily through Robin's chest at the declaration but he hid the conflict with a veil of neutrality. Was hurting his son, for a moment in order to save him from a more bitter departing… was letting her leave the best way? Did he have a choice? Querulous notions rumbled like dark storm clouds into the archer's chest. How he wished to argue and rail and cajole as was his nature, but he forsook the feelings. With a stoic will, he shoved the emotions away deep into the depths of his heart.

"Three days you say?" Robin sighed emotionlessly, his eyes slowly searching Regina's for something, anything.

Regina nodded hollowly. Face a stone wall, she tilted her chin up faintly. "That's all I ask."

In three days perhaps she could scrounge up a plan or even a prayer. In three days maybe the pain of the moment wouldn't cut so deeply. In three days maybe she would forget of how she had seen the camp… as a small home.

"I'll see that you have a fair pack of supplies when the time comes," the bandit assured her softly. Whiskey depths falling back to the dark ground, his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

Bitter confusion milled aimlessly in his mind. Thoughts lashed his brain to tatters. Why did those words hurt so much to fall from his lips? Why had he not said….

Stoically shielding herself, the witch snorted icily. "If that's all?" Her intrinsically eyes scanned the meeting again.

"Finally," muttered Allan. Petulantly the merry man kicked a bunch of leaves and shot her a hate filled glance. At last she would be gone.

"Good." Without another word, Regina swiftly turned from them. Graciously noble, the ex-queen slipped away again through the trees leaving the meeting of dissenters behind in the blackness.

The darkness of the tangled wood engulfed the witch in a sea of velveteen black as she disjoined herself from the hate. Soft blue moon beams danced through the half naked trees to mottle the night and the forest floor in spectral azure.

A solitary tear slipped down Regina's hard visage as she lost herself in the odious forest. The bowers of half attired limbs gratefully cloaked her, hiding her moment of pained weakness from any eyes that spied upon her.

This was to be her erroneous fate, she reasoned justly, hating the slip of weakness. She needed not be so weak, she scolded herself harshly as the tear fell. This was her lot. Only a life of loneliness lay before her and everything in her life made certain of that.

The sooner she learned to accept that without feeling rejected, the better.

~8~8~

Two days down. Robin frowned morosely at the lugubrious thought as he watched the woman soon to leave stride confidently through the camp.

Her step was almost as though ice formed under her feet. She moved with a rigidity that would have made a golem envious. What ease she had allotted in the camp was all but dissipated. Besides for a bit of expertise now in the dealing of the woods she seemed the same woman who had entered the camp that no so long ago. The same woman who was soon to leave.

Chestnut eyes following her, a disparaged grimace lined his thinned lips. His bow calloused fingers tapped an erratic tattoo upon his brandished bow as he lost himself in thought.

Two days, the words repeated in an endless loop through his mind. Two days had passed before her departure.

Two days and they felt like one thousand years to him. Even watching her he felt time going on in an incredible pace and being as slow as a snail the next. An eternal pang resonated like a dagger point in his heart with the thought but he could not discern the origin.

One more day and she was gone forever. How he hated thinking of such a thing!

Unlike his emotions, how little Roland would react was anyone's guess. At night, gladder than they had ever been, the men wagered the lad would be upset, but like anything that left in his life he would learn to deal with her absence and soon forget. At least they hoped Roland did. But then, Robin concluded grimly, Regina was not a woman one soon forgot.

A strong wave of insurmountable indecision rocked the archer at the thought of ever forgetting Regina. Could he really let her leave? Would he brook any protest? Did he wish to?

Shaking his head the thief pushed off from the tree. Being still for too long was not a trait he could tout proudly. Simply lingering uncertainly like a ghost who did not know to move on made him wish to tear his hair out and scream. He had to do something, anything.

"A moment, Regina!" Robin vapidly padded towards her as she looked down at the small smoldering fire in the middle of camp.

Sadness carved his face in a sanguine half smile as he came to a stop before her. Placing his bow in front on him, her placed both hands on the tip and leaned forward. Studiously, he forced his air to be light and careless. He couldn't let her guess what he felt. Doubly so when he didn't even know himself.

A sigh of indelible agitation sprang from her full, frowning lips. Jerking her head up to him, the former witch snarled. "What is it, Backwoodsman?" she snapped almost in challenge.

Could he not see she just wished to be alone? Already she had too much to think upon without his voice wedging in and destroying the walls she was erecting to hide her pain. Really he was incorrigible! His avarice for her attention nearly made her wish to slap him.

"Before you leave I have one last lesson to teach you," the thief explained idly in carefree friendship.

She couldn't know, he whispered to himself, she couldn't know.

A snort of derision resounded mirthlessly from the witch. Crossing her arms she glared upon him incredulously. "What? A different way to pick berries? To set a snare? To hide in a bush?"

"No." A half genuine smile perked upon his lips. Dexterously the bandit plucked up his bow from the cane like position. Expertly catching the weapon, he held the armament out horizontally. An indolent smirk replaced his smile in a mischievous fancy. "Archery."

The last thing he had not even begun to teach her was the way of the bow. She could forage and snare and even gather fish, but archery was what kept a body and soul together in the forest when the pickings were not plentiful.

"Archery?" Regina echoed incredulously, her voice flat to hide her surprise. Momentarily torn between curiosity and amusement she perched an inquisitive brow. "You think you can teach me archery in one day?"

A soft, roguish smile rose upon his lips. His chocolate orbs looked at her with a gentle coaxing as he shrugged his shoulders. "More finely put, hunting with the use of a bow, but yes, archery. It's not that hard to learn to be honest."

"That coming from the infamous archer himself," snorted Regina coolly. A faint half smile stole upon her full mouth.

Arm still extended with the bow, he bit back a laugh. "You really do have problems with a simple yes or no. Either would suffice."

Eyes narrowed faintly, the witch looked him over ponderously, her mind setting up the possibilities of his offer. Why would he bring archery up out of the blue? Was his offer some sort of crazy plot? Her hard russet eyes surveyed him in imperial analysis to uncover his true intention. What was his game now? Was he trying to take her mind off leaving? Did it matter?

"Alright," she assented softly, her voice still suspicious, and plucked the bow from him. Admiring the beautifully simple crafted weapon of light yew wood in her hands she perched her head up at him. "Show me."

~8~8~

Insipid cream colored clouds slogged detestably across the evening sky far above the southern woods. The astringent sun was shrouded in light gray muslin cloud that buffered the gleam of the golden rays to despondent ash.

Total glumness painted the world with soft colors that prophesied a dark and cold winter to come.

"So this is hunting," Regina remarked unimpressed as they stalked through the forest. Mild annoyance carved her lovely visage as they tromped nearly noiselessly through the woods.

Two hours had passed from the time they had left the camp. The cloudy day did little to boost their hearts as they strode through the dark woods. If the thought of hunting was to take their minds away from her departure then never had an idea failed so miserably.

A few animals had been spotted in their time but either they were too small or too fast for the archer to teach the outcast anything. Besides for a quick tutorial on bowman ship, he had nothing in which to test her. Currently they were doggedly following the careless trail of a deer but so far all they had caught was nibbled leaves and broken twigs.

Soft laughter bubbled from the bandit's lips as he shoved a thick set of nearly barren branches out his way and stepped over a tangle of roots. "Patience could be another word for it." He shrugged faintly. "One has to be as patient as the animal themselves. They have to know there tricks. One has to understand them and think like them in order to draw them out of where they are most comfortable."

"Patience," the ex-queen remarked wryly, her lips barely parted, as her umber eyes scanned the tangle, "Is not one of my virtues."

She couldn't wait for things to fall into her lap. She was the go out, bring whatever she needed back, type, or make do. Patience afforded her nothing. Her pains never alleviated, her heart never mended. Patience was a thing not needed for her.

"It'll need to be when you're out here alone," the thief explained carefully. He shot her an askance glance to the left as they walked. "Otherwise you risk playing your hand to soon and your supper running away."

A hint of laughter huffed from her shrewd lips, her lush mouth woven into an irrepressible smirk. "I think I'll stick to snaring then. I've always been better at laying traps for my prey anyway."

Queer silence reigned commandingly betwixt the two as it so often did when they were alone. The sound of sluggish wind through the partially naked trees whispered as the only noise in their midst's as each was lost in their private thoughts, digesting the information of the other.

"May I ask you a personal question, Regina?" Robin finally blurted finally unable to keep the burning question in.

Though she may have not have been aware, when matters came to people and emotion, patience was not a virtue of his either. That, and that alone had been the driving force to suggest he teach her archery.

Getting away with her hadn't been the solution he had been looking for; to be close and repress what he felt. Instead those things that bubbled in the cauldron of his heart were near overflowing now alone with her. They sputtered at his throat and clambered to dive past his lips.

The witch flickered a sidelong glance in his direction. "You mean the one you've been itching to ask me since two days ago?" she queried perceptively.

Yes, she knew exactly what lay simmering in his broad chest. A blind fool could have noticed the sparks upon his tongue that he kept back. If he thought his contemplations would be shrouded from her then he was sorely mistaken. By magic itself, she was a master of covert emotion and the art of suppressing what was inside!

"Indeed." The bandit did not even try to deny or dissuade her perceptive claim. "It's about Roland," he began uncertainly, his moth a thin pencil line of consternation, "You could have left me with the task of breaking the news to him." He turned to look at her as they threaded their way through the impenetrable woods. "Why do you wish to tell him you're leaving?"

Surely to leave him with such a burden would have been simpler. She wouldn't have to see the pain on Roland's face or even see him if she chose to place the task on his lap.

Plaintive contemplation etched the witch's lovely visage at his irrevocable question. Pondering danced like sparked behind her copper eyes. With a sad sigh she dipped her head an inch and finally answered. "I'll be gone in a day. You have many more years to raise your son. I won't have a hand in him being upset with you. I am the one he should be upset with. You're his father, you don't deserve that. If he is to be disappointed then let him think ill of me and not you."

"Sacrifice?" The bandit perched a brow as he stepped over a moss cushioned log.

Her words were unquestioningly, indisputably noble. To take the pain of that as well as departure was a thing that rocked him. She was willing to have his son sad with her rather than with his father. Why would she do such for an "ignorant backwoodsman" she insulted on a near day to day basis? Why did his heart bleed with her chivalrous words?

Her shoulders heaved in a faint shrug. "That's the least I can do after you…." Her mouth pulled in impertinent displeasure to the left as she struggled valiantly for the words. "Took me in," she sighed primly in begrudging admittance. "Though many are not wont to believe me, let no one say I was never grateful for anything. You eased a bit of my life and now… it's only right I do the same."

How could she leave with Roland angry and tearful at his father. A child's anger hurt like a searing knife in a parent's chest, she knew unequivocally. The last thing he need was that anger and pain directed at himself.

"Maybe you don't have to do that at all." Robin suggested suddenly, the words flying half of their own accord from his lips.

Large icebergs formed in the bandit's gut even as the words fled his lips. Had he just…. Stoically he pushed the thoughts of self doubt far from his mind. The words had been uttered. No going back now.

Awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck, he feigned calm. "Maybe everything will smooth itself out if we're just… patient."

"What?" Regain contested attitudinally, her voice hemmed with surprise. Coming to a halt she started at the archer as though he were mad. "He's got it into his head I'm some sort of surrogate! How do you smooth that out? That's not a thing that goes away, backwoodsman, that's a thing that grows and evolves."

Drawing to a halt beside her, the archer turned fully to the witch. His whiskey orbs gleamed in a thin ray of sun that sliced through the clouds. His normally indefatigable heart trembled inwardly and threatened to fall into his iced over stomach. The moment was at a head. A move had to be made before the moment passed him by. Now or never.

"Is that so bad?" he asked suddenly, his voice unreasonably stable despite his wracked nerves on the inside.

There, Robin sighed inwardly as the secret words fled his mouth, his hearts desire out.

Shock rocked Regina at his explosive words. Her jaw slackened at bit as she was struck by his query. Anxiousness clenched her heart in jagged, icy claws that scored frigid marks down her strong heart. Those words could not have crossed his lips. They couldn't have. "What do you mean?" her voice queried lowly to shroud what bubbled tempestuously in her heart.

Was he not… disgusted by his son's words? Why would he want a woman dubbed the "evil queen" to be some sort of motherly influence to his son. She wasn't winning any mother of the year awards. In fact she was an outcast, probably worse than they were now that peace ruled. They were seen as heroes and could flaunt that freely. She had nothing of the sort to boast. Out of a camp of bandits and marauders she was probably the worst influence there for a small boy.

"Is it so bad that he sees you as a mother?" the archer challenged helplessly, his words clearer than before.

Stunned surprise stamped Regina's face in an immutable casting of unfathomable incomprehension. Had those words just left his lips again and in an even more direct manner? Was he asking her….

Before a reply could burst past her lips a twig crunched before them.

Simultaneously the pair jerked their heads to the tangled woods before them. Their eyes intrinsically searched the thick mess of branches and undergrowth and vines and suddenly they viewed what their patience had rewarded them.

The soft brown hide of a deer stamped tenuously into view at a moderately distanced clearing. The doe was speckled with white spots and looked quite plump for the failing months. The ears twitched nervously, strained for any sound and the nose quivered, sending gouts of opaque white billowing from its black nostrils.

One leg raised, the beast observed the immediate area, not even glancing their way, before cautiously bending its head down to graze tender shoots not yet grabbed by the chill.

To Robin the deer was a gift from the deities themselves. After the stupidity that had just left his lips, the distraction was the sweetest blessing. Her surprise had said everything she did not. Why would she wish to be anything to Roland? Did she think he had just brought her into the camp for that purpose? How could he explain that wasn't the case if she did?

Yes, the archer conceded inwardly with a scowl, those words had not come out right at all. They didn't explain what he meant.

At least the deer would perhaps give them place to scramble away from his utter idiocy.

"See," Robin whispered furtively to the witch, desperate to leave his foolish inquiry behind. Quiet as death itself, he motioned for her to hoist his bow up.

Awkwardly, Regina raised the bow in which she wasn't even novice to wield. Hands wrongly placed she managed to notched the arrow but little else. Still, she reconciled inwardly, anything was better than having to make a response to his words that implacably stunned her.

Heat flooded her cheeks in a soft pink of embarrassment as she bungled with the weapon. A curse nearly blasted past her lips but she checked herself before the words fell from her mouth. By all the magic in all the realms, why were things around him so horribly difficult!

"Let me help you," the thief offered softly.

Moving behind her like a wraith, the bandit canted his head to the left and lifted his arms to help her. Right hand over hers, his shifted his bow calloused digits over her soft counterparts and pinched her fingers properly over the feathered end of the arrow with his over her own. With his left hand he placed her hand right under the arrow to prop up the shaft. His bigger, rough hand cradled hers to keep the arrow in place.

"Now," he instructed quietly. "Take a deep breath. Calm yourself and clear your mind. Don't worry about the doe, the world around you or even the bow. Put your mind into the shot, what it will do, where it will go. Everything else falls into place after that."

Nodding slightly the former witch drew the bow to full form. The tip of the pale gray goose feather tickled the right side of her visage whilst the scruff of the archer unshaven cheek flirted with the other. Uncertainty shivered through the witch as she tried hesitatingly to align the shot with the doe. Her fingers trembled against the notched arrow, threatening to release the shaft far sooner than intended.

"What if I'm just a poor shot?" she asked suddenly. Low melancholy hemmed her voice in a deep seeded fear and morose that long fettered in her heart.

They both knew she was not referring to the archery.

She couldn't keep Henry, she couldn't keep Owen, everything she touched seemed to wither and die in her grip when she chose to love it. What if the simple fact was she was unfit to rear a child? Was that why fate kept taking them away?

Slowly the archer turned to her, his face filled with comfort. His warm breath ghosted across her cheek pleasantly in the coldness of the day. "You're not. I know you aren't." He read her meaning beneath the nervous words as though she had spoken them plainly. "You are the most amazing woman I have ever met in all my days," Robin admitted, his voice barely above a deathly whisper. "I don't think it possible for you to be poor at anything."

She was everything, clever, wise, willing, and beautiful. No, there was nothing she could be poor at, not with a bit of practice and patience.

Slowly, Regina turned her face to him. Her eyes studiously studied him as though she peered to the soul behind his brown depths. What fount had erupted in his heart to speak those sudden words and the ones before that? What mystical balm did they contain that so soothed her grief stricken soul? Why did they rock her to her very core? Why did she believe that he believed every word?

An urge bubbled in her like an active volcano set to erupt. His words were an amorous lasso around her heart and her soul could only comply with all of her mortal being.

Tenuously, her lips crept to soft mouth. Vapors trailed a stream of milky white from her mouth before her lips sealed against his.

Warmth pulsed through Regina in an indescribable wave of unadulterated, unfathomable glory. Her heart battered wildly against her chest as though to be free and meld with his. The world faded out for a moment into nothingness. Her eyes closed in an intangible ambrosia of bliss. He felt whole and real and sturdy and right.

Yes, he felt right.

Showers of sparks burst in Robin Hood's mind as they joined in a kiss. The softness of her lips was akin to silk against his. Her sweetness enveloped him and melded her to him as though they were one. Never had the fact hit him so hard that he was a lowly thief and she, yes, she indeed was a queen in every regard, beautiful, wonderful. Regina.

Shock and desperation mingled upon Robin's face when at last they parted. His eyes searched her in a gentle awe that denoted he had felt the same bliss as she. The kiss had not lasted longer than ten seconds but felt like an eternity.

Lips barely apart, he gazed deep into then endless eternity of her brown orbs. "Please stay, Regina," he begged whisperingly. A stream of white slipped from his barely parted lips so that his soul seemed to have dragged the words straight from his heart.

"For you or for Roland?" Regina returned breathlessly, her eyes tethered to his in the same gentle awe.

"Both," Robin admitted freely. "He needs you, Regina, and so do I."

Despite his reasoning otherwise, his heart told him, screamed to him, so. He could deny that for only so long. Of course his denial had been all the easier before the threat of her leaving loomed before him. That was the cause of his pain, the last link that had been broken to free what he had chained down, he knew implicitly well.

His heart could not take her leaving. He loved her. No matter how preposterous the notion was, his heart screamed that truth.

Were his words true, Regina marveled ponderously. Her mind seemed akin to a raging tornado snatching up every thought and mashing them and shredding them all in a blur. Astonishment raged through her in a gale that howled through the very marrow of her bones. Could he really want her so? Was that… thing, feeling she had locked up behind her walls not a single prisoner, but one of the same chained away in another soul as well?

Abruptly, the witch pressed her lips to his again, her kiss urgent and hungry. His words were like magic itself. He was not disgusted by his son's words of her being like a mother. Robin Hood wanted her to say. He wanted her.

Exploring the foreign paradise of the contours of his mouth, the witch felt her walls crumble to ruin and accept all of him against her unguarded heart. The prisoner long kept at bay in her soul scrambled to meet his, and meet they did.

How many long days had she craved him and scolded herself over the pang of want. How many days had she had to hide a smile where he was involved. How many times had she had to check to make certain that same feeling he shared was good and buried deep within?

Now, he reveled his attraction to her as well. He wanted her to stay, he prostrated himself with that need. By that same shared link betwixt them he had summoned the gumption to go against his men's wishes to fly in the face of their hatred for her.

How could she leave him now? He was not upset by his son's words. His own softly spoken adoration betrayed that he wanted her, that his own affection had grown for her. No, she wouldn't leave. She would pass the winter with Robin Hood, and perhaps many more.

Inwardly reveling in her new decisions, she smiled and deepened the kiss against his sweet mouth. Her senses wantonly imbibed the sheer essence of him. Oh was there any sweeter thing in all the realms?

Disentangling his lips from hers this time, the archer smiled faintly. "Will you stay?" he asked again, his voice as lambs wool.

"Yes," Regina declared, a grin forming upon her mouth. A slight laugh slipped from her tingling lips. "But I fear that's the only thing we'll have to show for our time out here. And I doubt that will suffice the men in your camp."

Laughter huffed gently past Robin's lips. His eyes gleamed mischief and exuberance. "It doesn't have to be. We still have supper to catch."

"That we do," the witch remarked and turned her attention back to the clearing in the woods.

Amazingly the deer was still there, oblivious to the conjoining of two hearts. For Regina, she felt nearly guilty to try and steal the its life.

"The shot is yours, majesty," he spoke the old name fondly and moved from behind her

Taking a deep breath, Regina soothed herself. Her pent nerves settled as she locked her mind. Robin was hers, Roland was hers, and so too would the deer's life be hers as well.

A displeased noise softly clicked from Robin's mouth as he observed her. Rolling up his sleeves in a business like fashion he moved behind her again. "Here." He moved his right arm to adjust her hand placement on the bow. "Just a little higher up."

Breath caught like a boulder in Regina's throat as his arm glided against her skin. The touch of his fingers sent electricity down her spine, but froze her blood as her lingering eyes roved up his arm. A black tattoo of a lion rampant sat penned upon his flesh. The sleeve he rolled back on the arm unquestioningly reveled the image she knew only to well. The tattoo she sometimes saw in her dreams.

Shock struck the witch like a brick to the side of her head. Alarm gleamed fire in her brown eyes. No, it couldn't have been; simply couldn't.

Abruptly, her fingers eased in shock and slipped on the arrow. The projectile shot haphazardly through the foliage like sent from drunkards hands. Leaves rustled a disjointed alarm as the arrow skimmed the ground and lay under a bed of newly fallen foliage.

Alert, the doe raced off, much like Regina's heart, in fear.

Deer far gone from her mind, the witched through swirled in a disastrous mix of emotion. After all this, after all the time she had spent hating him them begrudgingly finding common ground, then to growing affection, she finally saw why.

True Love.

Lurching forward the witch disentangled herself from his grasp. Dropping his bow across the fresh, crisp leaves, she stumbled away and turned to face him all in the same motion. Agony ripped through her heart with serrated daggers as she lumbered backwards away from him.

"Regina, what's wrong?" Confusion filled the archer's voice at her disturbed display. Why did she look so haunted?

Eyes stapled upon the tattoo, she shook her head faintly. "No, no, no, no! This isn't possible, this isn't real." How could she find her true love in the woods? Had fate just plucked her up into a new family? Did some cruel deity see fit to make her life and love a plaything to be erected and dashed at a whim?

"What isn't real?" Robin extended his hand for her to take.

The hand that led to the arm with the lion tattoo.

Panic swirled in Regina's mind with the prophetic silence of his tattoo and the fate that had been erected for her. In the midst of the wild woods how had love found her? She wasn't the Charming's! Yet there he was. And there she was… falling in love with him.

"I can't do this." Hot tears brimmed crystalline in her umber depths. Bottom lip quivering she backed away from the fate that met her so unexpectedly. "Tell Roland I'm sorry I had to go. I can't do this. This life isn't meant for me."

"Regina, wait!" Robin thrust out his hand as she backed away. Desperation lined his visage. "Please don't do this."

Shaking her head she slipped away into the tangled woods. She couldn't be there with him. She couldn't.

Frozen, the archer watched as she turned away and raced through the woods. Sadness and confusion all swarmed through his mind as his eyes tracked her as far as they could. Why had she left? What had frightened her off?

Despondent, the bandit knelt and plucked up his bow. Turning the weapon in his hand, the thief shook his head and turned away to head back home. Why had she changed her mind and how would he break the news to Roland?

~8~8~

The first signs of night were just beginning to cloak the forest as Robin marched back into camp. Despondency permeated his features like a brand that he could not clear away from his visage.

Regina was gone. Abruptly, viciously torn away from him right after his lips had met hers. Right after he made his hearts plea known, right after he thought she would stay and make his pain all for naught, her was struck with an even bigger blow.

Spotting his son playing by the fire with a toy one of the lad had made, the archer marched stalwartly over to him. A weak smile adorned his kips as he kneeled to the playing boy. Stifling his own pain, he took a deep breath and locked his emotions away. "Roland… I have some bad news," he began strongly.

"What is it, paw paw?" The boy looked up from his new toy. His soft brown eyes searched behind his fathers shoulders. "Where's Miss Regina?"

Pain shot through the archer's tenacious heart like one of his own arrows. Face grim, he forced himself not to look away from his boy "That's what I need to talk to you about, son."

Perhaps his voice gave it away. Perhaps, the look on his face told the story his lips could not. Perhaps his very heart shouted the matter that so painfully scorched his very soul to char.

"She's gone?" Roland queried insightfully, his vice low. Lowering his eyes, the boy dug the feel of his boot into the dirt. Silence settled imperatively about him for a moment before he spoke again. "Did… did I make her leave?"

"No, no Roland," Robin assured quickly. Blinking back tears, he stroked his son shaggy brown hair. "She wanted me to tell you she loves you very much. But she couldn't stay."

Eyes pinioned to the ground to keep back tears, the little boy scrubbed at his nose with his sleeve. "Why, paw paw?"

He could have lied. In his own torn emotions he could have said because she didn't care, because she was an evil queen, because she was no good, but he would have rather dug his own heart out than that.

Never would he destroy Roland's image of Regina.

"Sometimes… sometimes these things happen," the outlaw explain poorly. How could he tell his son that his actions hunting had driven her off?

Nodding faintly the boy kept his eyes to the ground. "I… I see paw paw," he claimed quietly.

"I knew you would, son." Robin patted his son's shoulder heavily as he rose.

No, he didn't understand, Robin knew very well, and to be honest neither did he. Roland knew she cared. With their actions in the forest Robin knew she cared, so why had she run off?

Shaking his head, he looked sorrowfully to an intently watching Little John. "Watch him for a bit would you John?" he managed stalwartly.

"Robin…," John began but a look from the archer stopped his words.

"Not now, old friend." The thief swallowed hard to steady himself.

Why did he need to speak with him? The lads had gotten their wish. Did they need to see his despondency as well?

Without looking at anyone, the thief strode forlornly into his tent.

~8~8~

An hour passed in tortuous solitary for the outlaw.

The darkness was a blessing as he stood in the empty domicile. Gone, his heart wept. She was gone. The words dragged through he mind like sharpened glass. Her departure shouldn't have hurt so much, a part of him noted, but by all the magic in all the realms, her gone was akin to spikes in his chest. But why?

Raking a hand viciously through his brown hair, he paced like a caged beast until he was sure a furrow formed inside the tent. What had he done to drive her off? What had he said? What scared her away?

Perhaps he could reconcile with himself if he knew the reason for why she departed so suddenly. Perhaps his ridiculous heart would settle if he just knew why. Was she angry, afraid, or perhaps sad?

None of this he knew, only that she looked at him as though he were a ghost. How had he sparked such fear in her? Why had he struck such fear in her?

He didn't know and that… that drove him mad.

"Robin!" Little John bellowed as he ripped back the tent flaps. Fear and panic lined his hairy face in the crepuscular glow of failing day. His breath bellowed as though he had run for miles. "Roland's gone, Robin! One moment he was there and the next moment poof!"

Surprise, panic, fear, should have gripped the archer at the declaration, but none did. Calmness oozed through him in cool soothing that tendered his heart. At once he knew what had occurred.

Sighing slightly the archer shook his head. "He's his father's son," Robin noted aloud in admiration

Slowly turning from the majordomo, the bandit began to gather things strewn about the tent. Grabbing packs and canteens he did a head count of his arrows as he made hasty arrangements.

Untold shock branded the large man's visage. "What do you mean by that, Robin?" John yelled, his dark eyes alit with intense confusion.

"He's doing what I should have done in the first place. What I should have known to do hours ago." Robin slipped the filled quiver back over his back and grabbed his bow. "He's going after Regina."