A prompt response from tumblr. Regina is a retired hitwoman, and Robin is a psychic. Kind of has a marvel movie type of feel (imo). Let me know what you think, and enjoy the read. :)
Oh, and I will be updating Doctor and Beneath The Dirt (sorry for taking so long. I plan on completing my outline for BTD and then updating regularly now that I've finished most of my prompts)
It's a dangerous line of work, always was. That's why she retired in the first place. It isn't safe, not for Henry, not for them. They set her up with a good job, a safe environment, far from her past, far from any previous 'co workers'. Here, in StoryBrooke, she is just the mayor, just a mother, and she didn't think anything could draw her into that old life again.
She has the education, legitimate credibility for the role of mayor. In fact, that is exactly what her parents always wanted from her, but somewhere along the way she got sucked into a world where you don't exist, where each day is about a new mark, a new kill, and nothing else matters.
There is a thrill to it, or at least a thrill she* has always felt. It is a cold sting in the veins, a rush of adrenalin that speeds the heart and lungs. It makes her feel alive, and she never thought she'd feel it again, had hoped she wouldn't, but here she is, Robin beside her cradling his head, and what she is about to do, well, it is reckless.
She feels a responsibility though, a calling, because why on earth would this man, this frustrating man, have found his way to her if she was not meant to do something. All this time she has been trying so hard to keep Henry safe, but she is failing, failing everyday there is another hopeless crime in this city. A small city with a skyrocketing crime rate. It needs to stop. She needs to stop it.
Three Days Ago
"Henry, we're going to be late." She pulls a black wool coat over her shoulders, slides her heeled boots onto her feet as Henry bounds down the steps.
"Sorry Mom." He drops his backpack to the floor with a thud before donning his own jacket and slipping on sneakers. "I couldn't find my paper, and Miss Blanchard is collecting them today."
"And?" She questions, hoping the paper in question is no longer missing.
"I found it." He smiles, that bright handsome smile that reminds her just how quickly he is growing. Her lips pull up in response, and as she walks him to the bus stop she tries to tell herself to focus, to remember, because one of these days he won't let her walk him anymore, one of these days will be the last like this.
She arrives to work on time, but frazzled, feeling off kilter, but then Emma walks in with a latte in one hand and the daily agenda in the other. She makes a mental note to increase the blonde's Christmas bonus this year because really, she has no idea what she would do without her. Good assistants are hard to come by. Her mind tugs onto a particular employee, Sidney Glass, and his peculiar ability to make her feel like a snake was slithering under her skin everytime he looked at her.
Shaking the thought from her brain she focuses on Emma, sips at her latte, and asks what is on the docket today.
"Only one meeting this morning." She says, leaning back in the chair opposite Regina. "The guy said it was urgent to speak with you. Says he has some information, and Sheriff Graham sent him your way." The younger woman shrugs as she speaks the last sentence before finishing with, "His name is Locksley. Robin Locksley."
Regina leans forward, lifting and shuffling files in front of her. "Hmm. Sounds intriguing. Send Mr. Locksley in when he arrives."
She doesn't have to wait long, almost makes it through one phone call before Emma is knocking at her door, guiding a very handsome man to the seat across from Regina. She nods to Emma, dismisses her, and holds up an index finger to Mr. Locksley, smiling as she finishes the call.
"Mr. Locksley I presume." She stands, comes around her desk to greet him, to shake his hand, and she notices he has a firm grip, strong, something that makes him even more attractive to her. Like the dimples and blue eyes weren't enough.
"Madam Mayor." He states, as he releases her hand, and he looks uneasy, seems stressed.
"You can call me Regina." She can read people, understands them, doesn't usually like them, but she is good at manipulation, and she thinks this man needs her to be approachable, so she is. "Shall we sit?" She gestures toward the sofa in her large office, thinks it will make him feel more comfortable, more willing to talk, and even though she has no idea what he has to say, something tells her she wants to hear it.
They sit, he tells her to call him Robin, and they talk, but not about why he is here. At least, she assumes he has not come to talk about her son, and his son, and the difficulty of single parenting, but the topic seems to loosen him up, leaves his dimples deep and his smile wide. He is less tense, less anxious, and when she changes the subject, asks him why he came to see her, he sighs, his jaw tightens, but he begins explaining in a more relaxed demeanor than when he entered her office.
"This is going to sound crazy." He rubs his hands on the fabric of his pants, resting them on top of his thighs, and she narrows her eyes because those words can't possibly lead to anything good. "I went to see Sheriff Graham yesterday morning." He meets her eyes while he speaks, blue orbs capturing brown, and it pulls her in, has her listening intently. "You see," he sighs, runs a hand through his hair before swallowing, "I've been seeing things, seeing crimes."
She tilts her head to the side, dark hair shading her features. "I'm sorry Robin. I don't think I'm following. Did you witness a crime because," she is about to tell him he should be talking to the Sheriff, that the man should never have sent him away without a statement, but then he is shaking his head, lifting a hand to silence her.
"I didn't see it happen Regina," he is agitated again, shifting uncomfortably as he continues, "it hasn't happened yet." The words leave him quietly, just above a whisper, and once they sink in, once she understands, her eyebrows raise and her jaw drops before she can school her features.
"I see." She stands, places one hand on her hip while the other lifts to her forehead, scratching lightly while she tries to think what she had done to Graham, what could have pissed off the sheriff to the point that he would send the crazies her way. "Well, I really do think this is something for the Sheriff, Mr. Locksley. He should be in the office today if you'd like to return to the station." She gestures toward the door, walks toward it, but then he stops her, places a hand on her bicep, and she feels something.
She can't describe it. Its like a shock or vibration, but she felt it through her entire body, and now Robin Locksley is staring at her, those blue eyes set and determined. "I've seen things all my life Regina. I can prove it to you." His hand hasn't moved, and it is erie, peculiar, but something stops her from moving, something keeps her feet planted to the floor, her gaze glued to his face. "You were seventeen." His eyes open wide, and they look sad, empathetic.
"What are you talking about Mr. Locksley." She shakes her head, shifts her body to break the contact of his hand to her arm, but it doesn't break the gaze he has settled on her or the anxiety coursing through her veins.
He sighs, looks down and shakes his head before meeting her eyes again. "I'm sorry Regina. I don't choose what I see. It just," he lifts a hand, waves it in front of his head, "happens."
"I don't know what you're talking about Mr. Locksley." She speaks sternly, straightens her back and levels her shoulders as she walks to her desk, grasping the phone, but just as she gets the receiver to her ear, just as she says Emma's name, he interrupts.
"You were seventeen when they died." He is walking toward the desk, hands raised with palms facing toward her like he is cornering a scared animal, and she realizes that is exactly how she feels.
"Nevermind Emma." She declares into the phone, never shifting her eyes from his as she sets it back down, sits at her desk. "What did you see?" She asks, brows furrowing as her eyes sting, moisture blurring his face.
"I saw you. I saw them." He takes the seat across from her before continuing. "An older man, your father I think, was driving, and they were arguing, your parents." He scratches at his skull, squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. "I don't know what they were upset about, but then there were lights, and it was foggy, and," he pauses, and he is breathing faster, clenching his fists, "it was loud, but then so quiet, and cold. It was wet and cold, but then it was warm on your hand, wet and warm, and sticky, and," his eyes have closed again, but everything he is saying she remembers. She remembers it like it was yesterday, because she dreamt about it just last night.
"Stop." She is scowling. She can feel the tension in her face, and she closes her eyes, breathes slowly, focusing, pulling away from that car, from the place she lost her family. "I believe you Mr. Locksley," she says the words, but there is little feeling in her voice, "but I still don't know why you are here."
He nods, murmurs another apology that she brushes off, asking him to continue. "I used to only see things like that. When I touch someone, it is like a piece of them rubs off on me, and then I am with them, in a moment, in a place." He sits in the seat on the other side of her desk, resting his elbows on his knees as he continues to explain. "Lately I've been seeing more. I have flashes, see things happening. At first I thought they were dreams or memories, but then," he pulls a news clipping from his pocket and sets it on her desk, "I saw this happen Regina. Two days before it actually did."
She leans forward, thumbs the scrap of paper. She doesn't need to read it. The headline is enough. 'Fatal bank robbery leaves mother of two dead.' She knows about the robberies around the city. It is her city after all. First was the jewelry store, no one died there, but a security guard had been shot, critically injured. Then it was Mr. Gold's Pawn shop, and luckily no one was there when the crime took place, but then came the bank, and the female teller hadn't done anything to provoke the robbers. They just shot her while she handed over the money. One witness even said they laughed about it.
"So you're saying," Regina starts.
He interrupts again and she listens intently, captivated. "I'm saying I saw another robbery, and someone else is going to die."
She goes to the Sheriff's station with him this time, and she doesn't know what possessed her, what made her think Graham would listen just because she was present. In the end the sheriff just smiles, chuckles, and she can tell he thinks it is a joke, a prank as payback for sending Robin her way in the first place. He tells them 'it's a nice story', and maybe they can 'publish a book together', but as she's leaving he isn't reluctant to mention the mayoral re-election coming up, and how she may not want to be seen around town with this lunatic.
She smiles, her fake political smile that works every time with this man, and sends him a wink while hurrying out with Robin in tow.
"Well now what?" Robin asks exasperated. "That man is an idiot."
Regina knows it is true. Graham was a good detective when he first started, but when he was elected sheriff something shifted, his ego grew, and now the man is failing. She is failing. Storybrooke is slowly becoming a terrifying place, and this is not what she signed up for. When she retired from a life of death and murder to keep Henry safe, she never planned on ending up mayor of a town more dangerous than her previous profession.
"Now," she begins walking, heels clacking against the sidewalk as Robin follows closely behind, listening intently, "we deal with this problem ourselves Mr. Locksley."
They spend the rest of the day in her office. He fills her in on the details, the particulars of his vision. He tells her that he sees Granny's diner, that the criminals will strike late at night when only Granny and a few patrons are present. Robin squeezes his eyes together tightly, his fists clenching, knuckles turning white as he describes how one of the two men will wait out front, gun held to three hostages while the other will take Granny into the back of the diner, and as she hands over the money, the man will shoot her, a smile on his face the entire time. He tells her how the hostages panic, how the other man shoots all three of them before the two men escape quickly through the back.
"I think one of them will survive." Robin states after the vision passes. His eyes find Regina's, and she hands him a glass of whiskey, pouring another for herself before joining him on the couch. "One of them is shot in the shoulder, but it doesn't look that bad. I think she might live," he sips from the dark amber liquid, and it is only now Regina sees how his hand is shaking, "but the others," he sighs, finishes his drink with one gulp, "there is a lot of blood."
He is staring ahead, a haunted expression shading his features, and Regina isn't sure what comes over her, why she has an urge to comfort this man, but she does, and so she will. Her hand covers his wrist, both of his hands flanking the empty glass between his knees, and when her skin makes contact with his she feels a heat, a warmth, and his hands stop shaking. She wonders briefly if he can see something, if by offering comfort, she is also offering insight into herself, into her world, but she shakes off the thought, asks him if he'd like another drink. He shakes his head, tells her he'd like more, but he has his son to think of, and the boy will be waiting for him at the inn.
She nods, removes her hand from his wrist and sips at her own drink. It dawns on her slowly, a realization that has her heart dropping, "The inn?" She looks at him, lips parting, shock evident in her eyes, "you mean Granny's inn? You are staying there with your boy?"
"Yes," he answers calmly, "but I know when the robbery will happen Regina. We will be fine there." He says it reassuringly, but it does not have that affect on her.
"No." Her mouth is moving, words coming out, and she wants to snap her lips shut, wants to pull back and put on her mayor's mask. The mayor would smile, calmly nod, say 'of course you'll be fine', but something tugs at Regina, an anxiety she can't overcome, and the mayor's antics fail her completely. "You shouldn't be staying there Robin. It is dangerous," and now she is shaking, sets her glass down, tries to remove the image of Robin on the floor of Granny's bleeding, of Roland, a four year old boy losing his father.
"It isn't dangerous Regina." He reaches out, his hand grasping her arm, him offering comfort this time, "I know when,"
"You can't possibly know everything." She interrupts, stands up and begins pacing.
He sighs, leans further back on the couch before saying, "you're right Regina. For instance, I don't know why you brought me here. Why you said 'we' could handle this situation." She stops her pacing, slows her breathing as he continues, "I have my suspicions, but so far I am the one doing all the talking."
He is staring at her, blue eyes burning, and she looks down, twirls the glass in her hands before moving forward, lowering back on the couch beside him. "I," she pauses, works the words in her mind, "I have a way of preventing the crime." After the words are out she lifts the glass to her lips, tips back and swishes the liquid down her throat.
"I figured as much." He leans forward, to his side a bit, toward her, "but what exactly is it you can do Regina?"
She is staring forward, her eyes narrowing as she turns to face him, and she hadn't realized how close he was, his face mere inches from hers, his eyes looking even bluer up close. She clears her throat, straightens up. "It isn't important," she says, "all I need are the details from you. I can handle the rest."
He shakes his head, says he doesn't like that, doesn't think she should do anything alone, but she stands, removing both glasses from the table in front of them, and walks to place them back near the bar table. "I'll be fine Robin." Her back is turned toward him, and she is grateful for that, because otherwise he'd be able to see the emptiness in her eyes, the acceptance that she needs to do something she hasn't done in a very long time, something dark, something that is like a drug to her. It frightens her, the thought of killing again. She was good at it, loved it, and that is was scares her so much, the fact that she has no trouble taking a life, never has.
She hadn't noticed him approaching, almost forgot he was there until his hand grasps her shoulder, and then there it is again, that feeling, that tingling, and she is frozen, helpless, because whatever connection he has just made makes her feel alive, her veins pulsing, her body thrumming. He gasps, releases his hold, and she turns, meets his eyes, eyes that look shocked, and she feels naked, feels exposed, her breaths leaving and returning in quick succession.
"What?" She asks, eyes wide, but he doesn't need to tell her, she already knows what he saw.
"Regina," he starts, his voice tentative, but she doesn't want to hear anything he has to say, can already see the fear in his eyes.
"No," she says, squaring her shoulders, "Did you enjoy your little trip into my brain Robin?" She steps toward him, closing the small amount of space, "Could you feel what I feel? Or did you just get to watch?"
"Regina," he tries to speak again, and his gaze holds a kindness, a sympathy, and she thinks she might be sick, queasy from the pity he has for her.
She interrupts again, glares into his kind eyes, "That's right Robin. I'm a murderer." She says it with a smile, that mayor's smile that had failed her earlier, "I'm a cold blooded killer. So you see," she tilts her head to the side, "I know exactly how to 'prevent' this crime." She shifts, moves away from him toward her desk, and part of her hopes that he'll just leave, even if she knows it is in vain.
"Regina," he repeats, and she is getting tired of him saying her name, wants to interrupt again, but lets him continue, "what you are thinking of doing is dangerous. You could get yourself killed."
She scoffs, tells him that is absurd, that she knows what she is doing, and then he confirms her suspicions, tells her that she can't go back to that, and now she knows for sure that he saw her in the heat of a kill. "Why Robin? Why can't I go back to that?" She questions. "Did you feel it? Could you tell that I liked it, that I enjoyed killing?"
He stares at her, drops into the chair across from her desk, and she has a weird recollection, a deja vu, because this is exactly how she met him earlier today. Was it really just this morning?
"I saw you kill someone." He makes the statement so calmly, his eyes never leaving hers, "and I know exactly how it makes you feel, the thrill you get." He leans forward, rests his hands on her desk, "That is why you shouldn't do this."
Her anger is gone, the softness in his gaze seeping it from her, leaving only frustration, maybe some fear, but she won't admit that. "Robin, I have to do this," he starts to open his mouth, but she shakes her head, holds up a hand, "these criminals won't stop. They have murdered, robbed, and they will only continue to do so."
"We can have them arrested. You don't need to kill them." He says urgently, trying to convince her.
"Who do you think will arrest them Robin? And even if Graham did, even if they were captured and charged before hurting anyone at Granny's, they'll only be held for a few months. There was no evidence left behind at the previous robberies. They can't be charged for them, or for the murder. They'll be out of jail, planning their next heist, their next murder, and who will be to blame?" She pauses, nostrils flaring, and tries to slow her breathing before declaring, "I have to protect this city. I have to protect my son."
He is looking at her, comprehension in his eyes, but he still seems unswayed, and she doesn't want to fight with him, she won't, "I don't need your help with this Robin. You've given me the information I need, and that is enough. You can go. Your son and you can leave." She looks downward, shuffles with a file on her desk, and hopes he'll get the drift, that he'll dismiss himself.
"That's just it Regina. I haven't given you everything you need." She halts her movements, looks at him, brow furrowing, but before she can ask what he means he continues, "I haven't told you when this is going to happen."
Regina shifts in her seat, lips parting, and she wonders how she could have been so stupid, so dense, to overlook such an important detail. She is about to open her mouth, about to try and convince him, but he holds up his hand, bites his lower lip, and the look on his face has her nervous, anxious.
"I will tell you." He says, blue eyes meeting brown, and relief floods her mind, until, "but you have to let me help. You'll have to bring me along."
She hadn't been expecting that, blinks, shakes her head, "Like you said, it isn't safe. I can't take you,"
He stands, spurring her to do the same, but then he leans forward, his thighs brushing the front of her desk as he says, "The only way I'm telling you when the crime will take place, is if you take me along." He smirks then, a smug little thing, "besides, I'm good company."
She wants to say no, wants to tell him she'll figure it out on her own, but something about that smirk, something about him changes her mind, has her making a demand of her own. "Fine. You can come along as long as you get your son out of that shabby inn."
His brow furrows, eyes questioning, "Where do you propose we stay? Granny's is the only inn within twenty miles."
"I know." She says, and she really isn't certain about the next words that leave her mouth, but she is feeling spontaneous, brave even, "You'll stay with me." She lowers herself back into her chair, sits gracefully, straightening files, "Henry will enjoy having another child around, and that way Roland will be safe."
He nods, thanks her, and she thinks he is about to decline, but she doesn't give him the chance, tells him to get Roland, their belongings, and meet her back here at 5pm.
Three days later
That's what brings her here, brings her to this dark street, in this dark car, Robin beside her, trying to focus on his thoughts, visions, whatever you want to call it. It seems painful for him, and she can tell things are shifting, that each moment closer to the event, closer to their actions, well, her actions, alters everything.
His eyes are closed, and she is trying to stay calm, trying not to let excitement bubble in her nerves, trying not to let the thrill of a kill on the horizon overwhelm her, turn her into a monster of her own making. He shifts, eyes popping open, and then he is grabbing her arm, a firm grip, that firm grip just like the first day she met him, like their first handshake. "It's time Regina."
She nods, screws the silencer on her gun, and steps from the car quietly. She is trained, well trained, and as she slithers along the street, her figure, her shadow blend together, blend into the darkness of the road, of the building.
It goes fast, always does, one thing she remembers. The high doesn't last long, because the act of murder doesn't take long, at least, not the way she does it. It takes two bullets, two bullets for two men. They are easy to recognize, shifting along in the shadows just like her, and something about that unsettles her, makes her feel dirty, but then she thinks of Henry, thinks of Roland, the young boy she is quickly getting to know, and she thinks of the people she is protecting, the people Robin and her are saving.
It is quiet, she is quiet, and she leaves their bodies in that dark alley, lets their blood drench the cold, hard ground, and the momentary thrill is gone, the excitement smothered with a different emotion, with fear. By the time she is next to Robin again, closing the car door behind her, she is shaking, visibly frightened, and then his hand finds hers on her lap, fingers lacing, and the shaking stops, the fear fizzles into something else, into confidence, security.
They drive to the mayoral mansion that night, return to their boys tucked safely into beds, and for the first time in a long time, Regina feels safe, she feels like they are all safe, even if just for tonight.
Please review, and let me know what you thought or if there are any one shots you'd be interested in.