Based on last night's episode.

A little angst, a little fluff, a little I-just-needed-to-write-this-even-though-I-have-no-idea-what-it-is-exactly.


Robin doesn't sleep on her bed the night they arrive. In fact, he doesn't sleep at all, merely sits on her coffee table and stares at Roland as he naps on her couch, spent after the day's journey and the emotional turmoil of having to accept that his Mama was never back, after all. Regina watches from the corner of the living room, and her heart breaks for him.

Zelena's pregnancy had been a lie, a ploy to keep the upper hand, and it was a relief, but the fact remained that Robin had slept with her (though clearly not by choice), and that one detail had altered their lives forever. She can't fault him for it, though, nor can she comfort him, not right now. She's been in his position, she knows how it feels, knows the pain and the sadness and the absolute disgust he must be feeling towards himself, like he's tainted, dirty because he took part in something he would never have accepted, had he known who was really hiding behind his wife's features. She knows he's not up for consoling words or reassuring touches right now (she certainly wasn't when Leopold used her the way Zelena has used Robin), but she loves him, she loves him, and it kills her that she can't make this better, that his life has been turned into this gigantic mess simply because he had the misfortune of falling for the Evil Queen.

"Robin?" she asks, hesitant and soft, not wanting to startle him. He jumps all the same, turns to look at her with wide eyes and his mouth half open, as if he wants to say something, but he doesn't know what.

"I, uh… I've set up the guest room for you and Roland."

"There's no need for that, I don't want you to go to any trouble for us, we'll head back to camp," he says, moving to get up, but she stops him, the mere thought of watching him walk away from her again making anxiety bloom in her belly.

"It's no trouble, and you both need rest. I promised Roland we'd make pancakes for breakfast tomorrow, and you need time to process… well, everything. Please, stay," she says, not even trying to hide the begging tint to her voice.

"Alright," he replies after long seconds of silent consideration, "thank you."

The defeated way he sighs as he turns back to his sleeping son makes her eyes well up with tears, tears she refuses to shed so as not to alarm him further, but she feels it, that gut-wrenching stab of guilt that she's the reason he's in this terrible predicament, and she wants nothing more than to feel him close to her, to have his warmth and his touch and his lips wash away the remnants of her desperation and the heartache she's felt the entire time she's been without him. But right now is not the time for that, and she won't overlook his pain in order to soothe hers. She'll focus on him, on giving him whatever he needs to feel whole again.

"There are extra blankets in the closet at the end of the hall, and the TV has cable, so Roland can watch his cartoons in the morning," she tells him.

"Thank you," he says again, but the sentiment is heavier this time as he walks closer, their faces mere inches apart as he breathes and stares at her, his eyes frantically moving over her face, as if expecting it to change the way Marian's did. She gives him a small smile in reply, wishes him a good night, and walks away, leaving him to tuck his son into the bed in the guest room.

She moves every which way in her bed, trying and failing to find sleep, her mind clouded with images of Robin's face, aghast after Zelena's reveal. He hadn't said a single word the entire drive back to Storybrooke, but he had held her hand, had squeezed her fingers in his as she told him it was okay, that he and Roland were safe now, that she'd never let them go away again, and right now all she wants is to give him that, to give him the support and the love she knows will help him heal, but he's not ready, and all she can do is hope that when he is, he'll come to her.


It happens three days after they return. A soft knock on her bedroom door pulls her from her bed, where she'd been tossing and turning again, and when she opens it, Robin is standing on the other side, bags visible under his eyes and anguish clear on his face.

"I can't sleep," is all he says, a mere whisper in the stillness of the night. Regina doesn't reply, merely opens the door further so he can walk inside, closes it and keeps her back to him as she tries to calm her breathing.

When she turns, he's sitting on the mattress, feet dangling from the side, hands clasped together in front of him as he stares blankly into space. Slowly, she makes her way back to the bed, climbs on her side of it and lies down on her back, sinking into the pillows she's piled against her headboard and lifting the covers so that both she and Robin can tuck their legs under them.

He lies on his side with his back to her, not saying anything, and she's so afraid he'll flinch if she touches him that she sticks to her end of the bed, not moving a muscle, but then he turns, seeks her out and loops an arm over her middle, and Regina holds her breath, lets him curl against her and doesn't exhale again until he's buried his head in the crook of her neck and she feels his tears dampen the silk of her pajama top.

She stays silent, merely lets her hand dive into his hair and play gently with the light locks, unable to resist placing a kiss on his brow when he shudders in her embrace. He returns the gesture by squeezing his arm around her tighter and sniffling out a broken I'm so sorry, and she can't take it, won't let him feel this way because of her.

"None of this was your fault. It's okay, we'll be okay," she says with her lips still against his brow, her fingernails scratching lightly at his scalp as she lets him cry out the pain of the horrible deception he's been living. He cuddles even closer to her, the heat from his body a welcome sensation after all those cold nights spent alone in this very same bed.

She doesn't breathe easy until she hears the slight snore that tells her he's finally dozed off, and then she moves just a little, finding a more comfortable position while still keeping him in her arms before she joins him in slumber.

It's the best sleep she's had in months.