My fic for the first prompt of Dark OQ week : Getting to know you.
Summary: Regina finds a physical difference between Robin Hood and Robin of Locksely.
In many ways he's different from the Robin she knew. He's more sarcastic. A little reckless. He smirks at her little rages instead of growing doe-eyed and concerned. There's a darkness about him that the first Robin didn't have. An air of loss and anger that nearly mirrors her own.
These differences fit hers. They match and fill her faults and she's pleased with each new one she discovers. Until she notices the one physical flaw that separates him from the Robin she lost.
They are in bed when she first sees them. His scars. He'd rolled over in his sleep, and she saw them when she woke. They nearly cover his back. Long and angry, she recognizes them. Whip marks.
Hesitantly she reaches out and runs her finger down the length of one, feeling his back stiffen when she does. He doesn't turn to face her but she knows he's awake now. They're both silent but she doesn't stop. She traces each one, marking their differences in size, depth and healing. There are too many of them for her liking.
She hears him sigh deeply. "They don't feel as bad as they look," he promises, his tone carrying just a hint of annoyance. "Not anymore at least."
He still hasn't turned to her and she realizes that he's ashamed. He's never talked much about his past with her and, to be perfectly honest, she hadn't truly cared enough to ask. She couldn't imagine it was anything worse than her own, so what was there to know? But now, as she runs her eyes over scar after scar, she can't help but ask, "Where did they come from?"
He pauses and she's sure he doesn't want to answer her but she hears him whisper, "My father."
Her heart clenches and she sees his hands do the same. He goes rigid with anger. Whether it's directed at her for asking or his father for existing she can't tell. Suddenly, it makes sense to her. The reason he doesn't flinch at her rages or balk at her anger. He's seen it all before.
"Let me guess," he ventures, still not facing her. "The other Robin didn't have these scars, did he?"
She hesitates before answering him. "No, he didn't."
The old Robin had told her about his father. He'd been a decent, kind man who'd died when he was three. He'd hardly remembered him.
She sees her Robin clench his jaw . "Well… good for him," he grits out under his breath.
Bitterness colors his words and she understands. It's simply one more way the other Robin had it better than he did.
She doesn't know what to say and silence returns to the room. Robin sighs. "If you're going to pity me I'd rather you do it when I'm not here."
"I don't pity you," she says. "Why would I pity someone who's capable of withstanding so much pain?"
Only then does he turn to look at her, skepticism clear in his eyes.
"Scars aren't a sign of weakness Robin. They're a sign of survival," she says.
She sees his gaze wander down to her top lip, falling on the notch that still resides there. She sighs letting her finger rest against it for a moment.
"And for the record, you're not the only one in this room who's survived a parent's cruelty," she whispers.
He studies at her for a moment before asking, "Father?"
"Mother," she immediately replies. "She was… a hard person to please."
It's a generous description. One that feels like acid as it slips off her tongue. Had she survived Cora? Sometimes she wondered.
She sees something flash behind his eyes. A spark of sympathy and understanding that remains as he pulls her close and allows her to rest her head against his chest.
This Robin is different than the one she once knew. He's hardened and flawed and scarred. But then again… so is she.
Hope you enjoyed it! Please review if you did!