A/N: thanks to all of you lovelies for your reviews and enthusiasm. without you i'd have abandoned this a long time ago! please enjoy the next chapter :) Xx
Christmas is close, and her mood worsens every day.
The worst thing is, even with her somber mood, she has to play pretend and be all fake smiles and too polite for her standards, because humans may not notice when she uses her powers, but they surely notice her behavior. She has to be kind, and – especially with the students – she's expected to perform some sort of act where everyone loves each other, because It's almost Christmas, Miss Mills, – and for some of them it's other religious festivities and yes, the problem is they're all so fucking happy.
She can't stand it.
Watches movies at home, drinking wine (needlessly, because she wouldn't feel its effects anyway), movies where the ending is sad or violent and all hope seems to disappear.
She starts with the exercises that Lucifer has assigned her. Changes of shape, every day. The first time, she only holds it for two minutes and thirty-four seconds before her bones scream of pain and she's forced to change back into a human. Now it's better – after a week, when it's almost time for the first presents, she can hold it for something like six hours. It still worries her, but it's a start. The dot of light hasn't gone. But Lucifer said that takes time, and so she's confident she must wait to see some results.
Obviously, it doesn't escape her that her transformations have started coming more easily only since she has started completely avoiding that stupid angel.
.:.
Christmas never fails to make him happy, but this year there's an empty space in his heart. No matter how hard he tries, he has lost something – or better, he misses someone.
No matter how many smiles he shares with his colleagues and overexcited students, no matter how many times he spreads kindness into the world: Regina has stopped talking to him, and after her last showdown, he has decided to let her be, not to bother her, and finally – finally – admit that it can't be.
Robin ignores the calls from Mary Margaret, because he knows what she wants. He ignores a text from Michael, who goes by David on this Earth, and ignores, essentially, all the contacts from his species. It's not healthy, what he's doing, but he can't help it.
There's a shadow in his eyes. And most importantly, there's a real, tangible, noticeable shadow on his wing.
He didn't notice it, at first. It hasn't been there, when he changed for Thanksgiving, when he has flown with Regina. He just woke up one day, and his right wing had started to become black at its root. He has frowned, watching himself in the mirror. He has no clue on what caused it.
(That's a lie. He knows exactly what caused it.)
.:.
Principal Hopper wants to participate to the Christmas fair.
It's… together with the elementary and middle school, really, but the Principal has high hopes, and he wants to bring a little of joy into the town. Stands and booths are being set up along the main street, and even inside some other minor streets. Teachers are asked for help. To supervise, or to bring something to sell, or just clean up afterwards. He signs up for the sweets stand, where he'll be – most likely – in the company of Granny Lucas, the lovely old lady who owns the most famous diner in town, and her niece, and probably a bunch of elementary-aged-sugar-hyped children who will sell to their parents the very same cakes said parents have made.
Wonderful.
He signs up between the firsts, so he doesn't have to know if Regina will take part to this.
The afternoon of the fair has him bringing out his best pair of gloves and hat, and strolling down Main Street to reach his stand. The fair is lovely, actually, a bunch of little luminaries hung all through the street, candles inside glass containers and shining golden balls.
He hasn't brought anything, but he quickly skims over the various offerings, and thinks he should come back tomorrow, on Christmas Eve, when he's off duty and he can actually purchase something. He's completely calm and almost serene, saying hello to Mrs. Lucas, so it comes as a surprise when he actually sees who's with Granny.
Regina is piercing him with those brown eyes, when she notices him coming. But the weird touch is, that she doesn't seem angry.
"Milady," he greets her, her scowl deepens slightly before she can school her features to something better.
"Hi," she replies, her hands sinking into her pockets. "You're on duty, too?"
"Apparently," he answers, rounds the stand until he reaches her on the bench where she's sitting. "I didn't think I'd find you here."
"Surprised?"
"As a matter of fact, yes," he says, wondering if there's enough room for him on the bench. Turns out that there is, so she shifts slightly on her left to let him sit. "Especially because I know, for sure, that you'd rather be anywhere else than to be stuck with me for… quite some time," he adds, checking his watch.
Regina doesn't reply, but stares ahead – where a little family of three is approaching their stand, the parents buying a piece of cake for their little daughter, and she looks at them for a long while as they walk away. Robin lazily thinks that maybe they should put some more effort into this selling thing, but it appears Mrs. Lucas is not fond of inexpert hands messing with her business (even if it's not technically hers) so he waits for Regina's answer, as if he has all the time in the world.
She just shrugs, and her head bows down as she burrows herself into her scarf. It's chilly, outside, and he notice she's traded her usual elegant coat for another one, warmer and more apt to spend some time in the open. "I guess I just… wanted to tell you I'm sorry," she murmurs, so low that if he weren't so close, he'd have missed it.
"Why would you be sorry?"
"Because – well, I really didn't need to treat you like that to make my point, last time we spoke," she says, still refusing to meet his eyes and keeping hers glued to the nearest tray. "After all it's not your fault if… I mean…"
"I get it," he tells her. He really doesn't like her struggling with words, with apologies, because she sounds like they're ripping them off her throat with an incandescent pair of tweezers.
Silence falls again, as they watch Granny selling a good dozen of cookies. "They're almost over, miss Mills," the old lady tells Regina. "You really won this year."
He turns towards her, surprised. "You made the cookies?"
"Oh, sure she did," Granny says before Regina can even open her mouth. "And if you want one, I suggest you hurry."
Robin smiles, glancing at the tray where only three or four cookies are left, and says, Do you mind?
Regina rolls her eyes, answers By all means, so he doesn't hesitate to grab one and tries it, an explosion of gooey chocolate in his mouth, as he closes his eyes to better focus on the wonderful taste.
"Oh wow," he says, looking at her amused expression. "Absolutely divine. My congrats. I may weep."
"Moron," she tells him, with all the affection she can put into an insult. "I don't play in the kitchen, I destroy every opponent."
"Noted," he groans around his cookie. "Not that I'll ever need to know," he adds, catching her cocked eyebrow.
.:.
He's an idiot.
She can't believe she's sitting next to a damn angel and letting him flirt and eat her cookies and she's not killing him already. She can almost feel her mother screaming at her from the gates of Hell. It's just… it comes easy, talking to him. His smell usually puts her off. He's too good, too perfectly sickeningly sweet, so she holds her breath, but today… there's a glint of smoke, there, just an almost imperceptible shadow, but it's enough to make her feel better. She watches as Robin eats the cookie, trying to ignore the way he looks when he starts talking with one of the children.
Her phone vibrates in her pocket.
Excuse me, she murmurs, not that anyone cares, and turns slightly to read the text from Mal. Need to see you. I thought we could spend Christmas together, maybe a spa? Let me know, it reads.
She stares at the phone for a long instant, before flopping it back inside her pocket. Not now. She turns to Arariel, and asks, "Do you want to take a break? Take a walk?"
She expected him to refuse, to tell her they can't, they're walking, but he nods, and looks at Granny as if he had to ask for permission. She catches his gaze and nods, says, "I've got it covered, you kids go and enjoy the fair."
And that's how she finds herself walking side by side with Robin Locksley – teacher, volunteer at the pet shelter center, certified angel, and – her enemy.
They walk in silence for quite a while. Regina sends lazy impulses to the humans who surround them, light waves of annoyance, so they actually give them space, the crowd mysteriously opening when they pass. And although she's using her malign powers – quite mildly, to be frank – Arariel doesn't seem bothered by it. He walks at her side, unscathed, his tranquil smile always on his lips, and Regina feels a little of her tension melt away.
"I need you to round the corner and go wait for me there, now, if you please," he says at some point, when they've covered nearly half of the street. She looks at him, but he only offers an enigmatic expression as he shrugs. "I know trusting me comes hard but… please? It's a harmless thing, I promise."
She looks at him for a moment longer before nodding, her best bored voice saying, Fine then, and she follows his request and turns the corner around the back of the church. Her arms cross, her breath exits in short puffs as she exhales slowly, counting, and she reaches forty-two before he's with her again.
"I've been quick," he offers as an apology. "Are you cold?"
"I'm… almost never cold," she smiles. "Are you?"
"I could use some mulled wine," he answers. "I know where to find it, come on."
His hand is curled around hers before she can even react, and he starts walking straight ahead, and she doesn't realize what's happening until it happens.
And when it happens, it hurts like hell.
.:.
He's puzzled.
One minute he was holding Regina's hand, walking to the churchyard to get some wine from the nuns who distribute it to the cold wanderers – and the minute after she's left his hand and stopped a few steps from him, her face twisted in pain and her palm pressed on her heart. A low cry escapes her lips as she starts doubling down. He's at her side in a second, his own hand on her back, him frantically searching for the source of her pain.
"Regina?" he asks, rubs lightly her back because he doesn't know what else to do. "Are you okay? What's happening?"
She shakes her head, bites back a sob and then lifts her eyes to him – for a moment, just a second, they're completely black, pools of ink, before going back to her human chocolate brown. "Get me away from here," she says through her teeth. "Please."
He nods, doesn't waste a second as he asks, Where?
She doesn't answer but turns, snatches herself away from his hold and runs to the shadows of the nearest alley. Her hands are on her thighs, as if the effort a short jog required was herculean, and she collapses on a bench, taking her head between her hands.
Robin carefully sits next to her, afraid to speak, afraid to ask. Lets her breathe slowly, his hands itching with the need to touch her, to make sure she's fine, but he waits.
After a couple of minutes, she looks better – not fine, but better, she breathes more easily and leans back against the backrest of the bench.
"You alright?" he says, almost timidly, looks at her close eyes as she answers.
"You're a complete moron," she breathes out, without all the bite the sentence could have had. "What on Earth – what exactly – possessed you to think – I could just… walk into consecrated ground."
His jaw drops.
She's still with her eyes closed, so she misses the swirling of emotion battling on his face – guilt, surprise, sadness and even a pang of affection for her, whom he only wishes to take into his arms and hold. He doesn't, and waits for her to look at him, and when she does, he has managed to school his face back to a solemn expression.
"I'm so sorry, Regina – I didn't…"
"…know? You didn't remember?" she ends, with the hint of a smirk on her lips. "I know you didn't." It's lower now, her voice, sounds sad, as she looks down at her still trembling hands. "It hurts – a lot. It's painful and I feel, still, like my very insides are being turned upside down. And… I should have told you, but you were walking so fast…"
"What happens?" he interrupts, as she looks up again, with bright eyes. "If you… enter a church."
A heartbeat, and she answers.
"I'd burn."