He had been able to control himself, he had succeeded in not showing how hurt he truly felt about the horrendous thing before his eyes. But the image of her, riding out, hair loose, smile on her lips and a wink to top it all off, had been too much.

She hadn't been gone for over a minute when he dropped to his knees, the wretched sound of his sobbing enough to agitate the horses near him, but he didn't care. He had lost control over the overwhelming feeling of wanting to grab her, strangle her, kiss her and weep.

He did not want to lose his head like this, but every breath he took was accompanied by a sting in his chest, and hot tears trailing down his face. He felt like he was crying for all those blissful days, weeks, months he had not wept for the death of his wife, all that time without his heart. Even now, even in its absence, he felt it hammering, wherever it was, it pulsated with guilt and hate.

Seeing her like that had been-

He did not even want to think about it, he did not want to remember it, he wanted the whole thing whipped from his memory so he could live on his damned life numb again-

Well, you have not been numb for a while, a voice inside his head reasoned.

That was true, Robin could not recall when, but along the way, he had been feeling more and more each day. But the truth of the matter was that the main source of guilt and pain he had – Marian's death – had not been able to touch him, he had been far too engrossed in-

Her

She did this to him.

Robin punched the floor as the tears continued to flow. Numbness was what he needed, that still feeling as if you were not living or dead, for that time you just were. But how does one get more numb than by having his own living and beating heart being yanked out of his chest?

He could kill, Robin knew that in killing, that feeling would surface, it would give him some solace. But a much easier and less messy way of getting himself out of that hole presented itself when one of the horses huffed loudly enough for Robin to turn his gaze towards it.

There it was, on a high shelf, just inside an empty stall, three bottles of something that looked like it could warm up a man during the entire winter. Robin took a deep breath and managed to get to his feet, his head was throbbing but he did not let that get in the way. There was obviously a padlock on the door but that was but a mere obstacle. He managed to jump the stable door, too lazy to actually pick the lock, he did not know if his climbing abilities had been increased by his desperation for the amber liquid or he had always been so agile. Of course he was, he was Robin Hood-

No, he was not, Robin Hood was dead.

He took all three bottles just for good measure, but given his state, he would probably empty them all in record time. The idea of getting back to his rooms to fetch his bow and arrow so he could relieve some tension was quickly discarded when he spotted a nicely sized dirk hidden under some straw in the same stall.

Robin headed out of the stables and into the forest with three bottles in hand and a new dirk on his belt, he felt sorry for anyone who happened by him that afternoon. For now, he responded to no one, not even the Queen.

He drank in large gulps, hardly even getting to taste the foul liquid he was ingesting, but the taste was not the point, the point was to forget and forget he would. After the first bottle was drained, Robin could almost see Rumpelstiltskin's ugly face on the tree trunk he was lashing with the dirk he had found. The hits were not as firm as they could have been, but Robin found he did not care, he aimed mostly for the middle, for he wanted to gut that imp for pulling up that ridiculous trickery.

To transform the appearance of the woman who turned his world inside out into his dead wife's... Rumpelstiltskin was truly twisted and Robin wanted to have that creature before him so he could-

He took a swing from the second bottle and hissed at the sting it caused in his throat, he was surprised it had not been numbed by the first bottle, he thought he'd be half dulled by now but the liquid went down like fire. Robin focused his eyes back on the tree trunk, ready to give the make-believe imp another swing in the guts when he realized his mind had conjured the image of the Queen before him.

He knew she wasn't there, the image before him was all pampered up and dressed to the nines, when he knew she was somewhere else wearing a different face. Still, she smirked at him but said nothing. Robin had half a mind to stab her for making him suffer like this, but something, a voice deep inside his head stopped him in his tracks.

Did she even know? A soft female voice asked.

He had not even considered that, of course she did not know, how could she know?

If she did know, she would have used it to torment you, of course, something dark in his mind reasoned.

Would she? The female voice spoke again.

"Would she?" He found himself asking aloud.

He took another large gulp of the almost acid amber liquid and focused his eyes back on the lithe figure of the make-believe Queen standing before him. A shameful tear trailed down the side of his eye without his permission as Robin stared at her, all regal, all business, ruthless and cold.

"Would you?" he asked the figure, his voice weak and wobbly from the strong alcohol.

She laughed and Robin lifted the dirk, a sudden wave of nausea mixed with anger washed over him. He was as prepared as he could have been – drunk as he was – to stab her right in the heart, when she suddenly stopped laughing, her face shifted and even though it was still her, it was somehow different, less porcelain, more human.

He dropped the dirk when he saw her eyes were red, filled with unshed tears and he had to blink a few times to make sure the illusion before him was quite right.

"No, Robin, I would have not" she spoke, her voice was neutral, did not carry any of the usual arrogance, "For I have lost love once too."

That had been it. One moment, he was standing before a mangled tree with a bottle in hand, the next he was passing out, dropping unceremoniously on the ground feeling his chest buzz with an only too familiar sensation.

…

He is standing by the carriage, the villagers are all lined up as the Queen makes her threats, Robin takes very little notice in their terrified faces, he is used to this by now.

She speaks with venom and hate, lets the villagers know that she's not there to play nor does she bluff, "-if I find out anyone in this village, has helped the bandit Snow White-" she looks at each and every one of them dead in the eye as if knowing what secrets they hide, "-they will suffer dearly."

She turns around and heads towards two black knights who are holding a prisoner. He can tell it is a woman, but she has a sack over her head. Another traitor, another person who chose the wrong side of the royal field. This one would suffer, he imagines, if she's to be made an example of, she would.

"Here's what helping Snow White looks like-" the Queen gestures for him to remove the hood, and Robin does so-

"Help me!" she screams at his face.

Marian

"She's going to kill me!" she cries out and Robin is petrified on the spot, his heart clenching in his chest.

She fights against her captors, screaming and crying, and Robin can do nothing but stare at her, while he can hear the Queen laugh at the desperation.

She finally looks at Robin then, her eyes filled with tears, her face red and her brow creasing, she half whispers, "Please"

"Who wants to be next?" the Queen's voice breaks through.

Robin has gained back his ability to move and speak, "No!" His voice is loud and clear.

"Is there a problem?" the Queen asks, her voice betraying that she is trying to control her rage.

He turns around to face her but when he does, it is not the Queen anymore, the clothes remain the same, the sneer on her lips intact, but those lips belong to another, Marian. Marian stood there, wearing the Evil Queen's clothes as well as her contempt.

The scenery around him changes to an indoor bedchamber as Robin turns around to find that the woman held captive is now Regina, not the Queen, but Regina. Two black knights hold her by the upper arms and she looks so different, so young, her hair is loose and there is little paint on her face, she wears a light blue nightgown and Robin is once again frozen on the spot.

"Here she is your majesty-" one of the guards says.

"Thank you Hackman-" the voice of a man way past his prime responds, "-I'll take it from here."

The men let go of the very frightened looking Regina and leave, that is when Robin sees him. He is coming from behind her and Robin can feel Regina get tenser by the second as the slimy King approaches.

"Must you run from me wife?" he reaches his destination and Robin can see a single tear run down her cheek. "Do you not know-" he places his old hand on her barely covered shoulder and takes some of her hair in his palm, bringing it to his face and taking a loud sniff, "-that it is your duty as Queen to please me?"

Robin is bursting with rage and somehow recuperates his movements making a move to attack the King, at this point, he is willing to chew the bastard's head off. But he's held back, a strong grip in his hand does not allow him to take his feet out off the ground.

"Robin what are you doing?" it is Marian's voice.

He spins around and there she is, she holds his hand fiercely and pleads sweetly, "Robin, please come back to me."

He's so confused he thinks he's going to pass out.

He hears Regina scream from the other side and immediately turns around, not listening to Marian's continuous pleas. But when his eyes reach the spot where Regina had been, Robin only finds the King standing there with an evil smile on his lips and clutching light blue fabric in one of his hands, her nightgown.

"No!" Robin fights against the strong clutch of Marian's hand as he screams, "Regina!"

"She's gone!" another voice sounds from behind him, mocking and impish, the fingers that hold his hand no longer soft but scale-ish and slimy. Robin turns around once more to find Rumpelstiltskin clutching his hand, "You can't save her-" he tells Robin, "-not even being who you are to her-" the imp's gaze comes down to stare at Robin's wrist, where he can see the lion tattoo he got too many years ago.

Robin is able to break free from the contact, but the imp continues to speak, "You can't help her-" he giggles and Robin wants to punch him, "Better listen to your wife!"

He almost gets sick as the image of Rumpelstiltskin turns into Marian once more and she takes a step towards him, asking him once more, "Please Robin, come home to me."

Robin is at loss, he does not know what to think or what to do. As if on cue, Regina's voice calls out to him from over his shoulder.

"I, I can't-" he stutters through his words, he does not know what he is doing but his heart, that damned thing that should be inside a box and yet he feels it beat fiercely inside his chest, tells him to turn around and follow Regina's voice until he finds her, "I'm sorry-" he tells Marian, "I have-"

Her face hardens, and she cuts him, "You are not my Robin anymore" she spits at him, her face contorted with hate, "She made you into a monster."

"That's where you are wrong dear," the Queen comes from behind him, she is not a scared mouse anymore but the strong woman he knows, she towers over Marian and gives her, "You made him into a monster."

…

Robin opened his eyes to the sight of two small eyes and a long muzzle staring back at him. He was confused at first, too dizzy to be startled by the animal sitting on his lap. Robin was sitting on the forest floor, his back to the tree he had been slashing, he felt a strange coldness over his head, as if something chilly was in contact only with the very top of his head. He looked up to find quite the disturbing view, a dark cloud above his head, not a normal cloud but something he knew was laced with magic.

He could also tell, feel it in his gut, that the dark cloud was nowhere near being a friendly phenomenon.

Go away, he thought for his tongue and throat were not in fit stage to form words.

The very moment the words crossed his mind, the fox, that had been simply sitting and staring, leapt forward and it's paws were on Robin's head the next second. He was surprised to register that he did not feel the weight on his head – was he that drunk? He looked up to find the fox almost flying it's way up the tree trunk, with an agility and grace he found unnatural for the animal to perform in such circumstances, them being the vertical position. Then, as if that was not enough, the animal simply turned grey, as if it was a ghost fox and Robin's eyes went wide.

His vision blurred when the fox jumped at the dark cloud and disappeared, then all he could see was black.

…

Robin remembered only flashes of what happened to him after he saw the ghost fox apparition when he woke up in his bed the next day. He knew he had passed out after the animal made a lunge for the cloud, but not completely. Although all he saw was black, he could feel a strong presence beside him, the coldness of the black cloud was gone, and he could hear a horse's paws hit the leaf filled ground, swore he could hear a feminine voice cursing under her breath. And he was willing to bet his life that he felt a warm palm rest upon his chest, on the left side, where his heart should have been, the touch warmed him with a delightful buzz – he had not realized that all of him had been cold until that moment.

The cursing had continued, it had been a woman, a rather foul-mouthed woman who had been there with him, and she had apparently brought him back to the castle.

He tried to open his eyes only to close them once more, the light coming from the window nearly blinding him. Robin was becoming more and more aware of his body and of the head-splitting ache that had taken up residence in the middle of his forehead. His skin felt tingly and weird, Robin took a tentative sniff to his left armpit to find – to his utter surprise – that the smell was not revolting nor did it knock him back into oblivion, he smelled like soap.

He opened his eyes then, regardless of the clarity, and looked under the covers to find that he was wearing nothing more than a knee-length sleeping shirt that did not belong to him. He looked around the room and yes, he was still in the castle, inside his usual rooms, then why on earth was he not wearing his own clothes and most importantly, who in hell bathed him?

Robin turned to the side only too swiftly, earning himself a nice hit of pain prominent on his already aching head. When his eyes focused again, and the pain subsided, he could see there was an oddly shaped vial resting on top of his bedside table. The sight of it jogged his memory back a bit and he could hear her words as if she was there with him.

"Drink it, you drunken baboon!" as she forced the vial against his lips.

He had parted his chalky lips, groaning at her lack of delicacy. He remembered seeing her from below, he had been too dizzy, too sick to remember anything too well.

"Not my fault that you got so pissed drunk…" he had caught her saying after he had swallowed the foul tasting liquid.

His eyes had been half-open, she must have thought he was out, because she had looked down at him with a look of pity he had never seen.

Had she been cradling his head on her lap?

"It actually was, wasn't it?" she gave a small humorless laugh and traced her fingers lightly across his cheek, "I'm sorry" she had licked her lips in embarrassment and Robin had tried to say something. She had looked startled and left, that had been-

"Two days ago, sir." A man, Mr. Butler was his name, had entered the room to check on him and Robin had immediately asked when he was brought back to his chambers, "The Queen herself called upon me to care for you sir." Robin had scrunched his face at that, which had earned him yet another jet of pain, "She had been-" he cleared his throat, "-indisposed."

Butler, Robin had seen him around, he had been one of the few valets who had remained in the castle, most of the valets and personal maids had left along with the nobles all those months ago, but not Mr. Butler. He was of average height, had to be past his fifties and had very little hair left on the top of his head, and yet, he had a cheery smile. He spoke with a strong accent, which told Robin he had not been born in this kingdom, maybe somewhere near where that Belle character came from.

"So-" Robin had sat down on the bed, "-you bathed me?"

"I'm afraid so sir" he said with a tone of normalcy, "The Queen gave the impression that she did not want dirt and vomit on the sheets." He added.

"Isn't the Queen the thoughtful one?" Robin gave sarcastically, feeling his head ache more when he thought of that maddening woman.

"She is-" Mr. Butler tried, "Quite unique"

"Has she-?" Robin found he was in desperate need of water and took a large gulp from the glass on his nightstand before continuing, "Has she been here?"

"No, sir." Mr. Butler told him with certainty, "Only me, to change your chamber pot and bring water"

"But-" Robin thought back on his memory, she had been there, but he decided to change the subject, "What exactly did I drink that day? Do you know?"

"I do, sir-" he looked down, "Quite an unfortunate thing to fall on your hands."

"What was it?"

"It was a mixture of aged brandy and horse urine-" Mr. Butler told him reluctantly, "They usually pour it in the horse's water to calm them down."

Robin had a stomach, he had kidnaped, killed, and gutted people. But he just discovered he did not have that much of a stomach, so he vomited right on the precious sheets.

…

Robin had to stay put for another day before he was able to stand for long periods of time, apparently, the drink he had drowned himself with was used when the horses needed some kind of treatment and were uncooperative, a good dosage mixed with their water would make the animal go to sleep for several hours. And Robin had drank the sodding thing pure, the mere thought of it, even three days after, still made him queasy.

When he was finally able to fare for himself, he dismissed Mr. Butler, who had been rather pleasant company if Robin was being honest. The man did not seem to fear him at the very least but was not nosy or arrogant about it, but respectful and rather witty at times, Robin found out later that Butler had served in the Ogre Wars and had been offered a place in the royal guard for his great service in it, but chose to turn the offer down for a more quiet type of life. So apart from having cleaned all of his clothes, the man also saw to it that Robin's weapons were sharp and ready. Plus, talking a little to the old bag and having him around had been rather good for Robin, that way he could distract himself from the feelings he had been trying to run away from when he had ingested horse pee.

The Queen had not come, he did not think that she would. Although, the memory of her being there the first night was rather vivid, but it could have been a dream since Mr. B had said-

No matter, he wouldn't want to see her anyway, he frankly did not know what to say to her or what kind of reaction he would have to seeing her after that.

…

Robin was on his feet the next day, and it did not take long for him to be informed that the Queen had decided to catch Snow White the old-fashioned way, as if the girl was a wild beast. The Queen would be taking a few dozen men with her for a long hunt that was only to end when she had captured her former step daughter. She had made it very clear that they were only to return to the castle when their hunt was concluded and successful.

He was just being filled in by one of the captains about the arrangements that needed to be done when a tall messenger boy told Robin his presence was required in the throne room, by the Queen.

Robin had excused himself, he was beginning to learn how to coexist with the men of Her Majesty's castle, it was hard – he had been fighting men like this all his life – but something he was getting accustomed to.

Upon pushing the doors of the throne room open, Robin found the throne itself empty. He entered nevertheless and his eyes came to rest on a round, out of place table – set to the right side of the room – when a noise came from its direction.

She was there, looking at him with wide eyes, she had dropped some manner of scroll that rolled over the table to find its final rest on the floor, which seemed to be the only noise in the room.

His eyes went from the scroll back to hers, her stare was expectant, for a moment, neither of them moved or spoke. She wore a rather simple cut blue velvet dress and her hair was all pinned above her head in a tight neat bun, she looked more strict and cold than ever.

Robin was not sure, for there were several paces in between them, but he could have sworn her cheeks started to gain a slight blush and her lips formed a thin red line. She suddenly looked away from him, at something at the table, seeming to want to hide her disposition, the doors behind him banged closed.

"You summoned me?" Robin asked but made no attempts to go to her.

Her head shot up from the scrolls but she did not look directly at him, "Yes!" her voice was rather high as she seemed to break out of her spell, "I did-" she lowered her tone, "I assume you are fit for duty again?"

"Yes, I am your majesty." His answer was direct and dry.

"Good." She gave him while lifting her hands from the table and closing them in fists for a moment.

Was she nervous?

"I believe you have already been made aware of the hunt?" she asked, her words held very little feeling.

That was way too formal, there was definitely something wrong with her. Well more wrong, there was always something amiss with that woman.

"I have just been informed" he gave her, he felt strange around her.

She took a deep breath and raised both her eyebrows, "Would you care to approach so we can discuss it further?"

Robin was a little taken aback by that and opened his mouth to retort but closed it almost right after. With his hands clasped on his back, he cleared his throat and went to stand in front of her, a round table filled with papers in between them.

She was looking at him differently, it wasn't the usual contempt or the pretend indifference he

was so accustomed to. She was tense, her eyes were a little bit glassy, and her body language odd, she kept clutching and unclutching her left hand, and had moistened her lips with her tongue at least four times ever since he had arrived.

"Right-" she broke the ridiculous silence between them, "As the captain of my personal guard, I'm giving you the reins in the hunt, you will, first and foremost, supply me with a list of men you deem appropriate for the company so I can analyze it." She was all business, she spoke with firmness and certainty, Robin merely nodded.

The next half hour passed just the same, her instructing him in what to do and Robin giving her small gestures of acknowledgement, he had remained standing by the table while she had also scarcely moved, only taking a few shy steps to look at a paper or two scattered about the table.

This was weird. Intense in the worst way possible, especially since he could still feel their powerful connection, even with five feet of table in between them. There was no banter, no double meaning phrases, no sly smirk or flirting of any kind between them. There was however, no lack of respect, she spoke clearly but without much passion, explained how she wanted things done but her voice had lost it's bite, it was almost as if she was trying to hide from him, but not really.

Robin himself was feeling rather battered, not tired per say, he had rested for far too long, but weary. The terrible shock of seeing her and having to interact with her in Marian's skin had been bad enough, added to the disturbing dream he had had in the forest, and the fact that he had drank so much piss he had been in bed for two whole days, it was too much for one to handle.

And so, days, and eventually two weeks of preparation went by. Robin was taking with him thirty hand-picked men he knew were of good skill and of mild trust – he trusted no one after all. He had met with the Queen almost every other day to discuss their routes and plans but in those meetings she had been just as distant as the first one, very direct in what she wanted, leaving no room for anything other than the task at hand.

Robin had mixed feelings about this, although the whole process had eaten up most of his time, still, when he laid his head on the pillow late at night, she was all he could think about, and Robin could not wrap his head around why she was acting that way. In the first few days, he did actually appreciate the space her coldness had given him, he was able to process everything that had happened in those intense 48 hours. Her opening up to him, sleeping together, having the fright of his life seeing Marian alive and breathing again, the odd dream and waking up to a ghost fox and dark smoke over his head, and then there was that memory of her in his rooms when he was far too drunk to tell if it was a dream or not.

Mister B. said she had not been there but Robin knew better, the vial was there, at his bedside table, how could she not have been there? She had apologized, he remembered in the blurry haze of the memory that she had looked upset, truly hurt by what she had caused him.

But now, she did not call him outlaw or thief like she had in the beginning, nor did she call him Robin like that day when she had told him her name. He was Locksley to her now and was only called on official business. They had not shared a touch, a kiss, a heated look in weeks, she had not twitched her devious lips or provoked him, he had not been able to feel that charging energy their bodies produced as one ever since that fateful morning. He had not been able to laugh at her dark humor or find out more about the mysterious Regina.

This was not like the last time she had backed away from him, last time he was not so involved, last time he did not even know half of what he knew now, did not feel half of what he felt now. Last time she had maintained her disposition, she had continued to call him names and scorn him, now all he got were scraps of well given orders, without a touch of sentiment.

Robin missed it, he missed her.