A/N: hello there ;) sorry I'm so late, but I fought through a wonderful writer's block and I'm not even sure it's over now! let me know if you like the chapter or if you want to throw me things :)

Henry is one of the few students he actually likes.

When Robin has founded the school newspaper, he knew he'd find some brilliant minds around. What he didn't foresee was finding someone who, despite being so young, is so kind and caring as Henry. He has not the journalist touch – he lacks the sharpness and the dry objectivity of a journalist, but he's pretty good with stories. He has an active imagination, and contributes with a short story every month. Robin enjoys these afternoons with the newspaper group. And that's why when Henry asks him if he has a moment, after class, he quickly checks the time – he's probably going to be late – but agrees to stay a little longer.

They go in his office.

Henry is fidgeting, it looks like, and Robin tells him to sit, that it's okay, but the boy doesn't look any less nervous.

"What is it?" Robin asks, placing his elbows on the desk and steepling his hands.

"I…" he murmurs, hesitant. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about something. I think I'm in trouble."

"With your foster family? You told me you were going to move, a couple of months ago. How did that go?"

"No, Mr Carroll is actually really kind," Henry shakes his head, still refusing to meet his eyes.

But Robin's heart does a somersault, and he finds himself stunned. "Mr Carroll? As in… Grace and Roland's father, is that right?"

"Yeah! I didn't know you knew him, Mr Locksley."

"I've heard of him," Robin tries to gloss over it. "So, I'm glad everything is going well with your new family. But if it is… well, what's the problem?"

Henry takes a deep breath, then finally meets his eyes. "I found an old box with my mom's stuff in it, I think Mr Carroll was holding on to it for me, to give it to me when I grow up, I don't know… but I found… things, and I got really confused. And he'd think I'm crazy if I told him, so I thought I could come to you since you like fairytales and all that fantasy stuff so you wouldn't think I'm crazy, right? This stuff happens all the time in the books you tell us about, right?"

"Henry…" he interrupts, concerned. "I'm sure you're not crazy and I'll try to believe you, I promise. Now why don't you tell me… slowly… what happened exactly?"

.

After his talk with Henry, Robin picks up his phone and dials a number he uses quite often, but never for matters like this one.

"Belle? Hi. Listen… I need you to break a little rule for me. Don't worry, it's nothing relevant… I promise." He waits, just a beat, then continues. "I need you to look into the archives for me and search for one of my students. His mother's name was Emma Swan. His name is Henry… Henry Cassidy."

.:.

Regina is nervous.

And she shouldn't be, but she's having a date tonight, and she hasn't dated in the longest time, it still feels… wrong, somehow.

She tries on a couple of dresses – a black one, a red one, but it just doesn't… it doesn't work. She doesn't want to look like she tried too hard, after all. It's a thread of thoughts, doubts nagging her mind, because she's thought about this date for days to no end, and they have indeed picked a time and a day, today, and at hers.

Robin.

Robin was supposed to be there twenty minutes ago, and of course she has everything ready, except for herself. Pity, that, she can't cancel on him now, it's too late.

When the doorbell rings, she jumps.

She's still half naked – in her bra and panties and with three different outfits still thrown on her bed. In a hurry, she just takes a black pantsuit and a deep-red blouse. Doesn't even bother to check herself in a mirror before going downstairs.

She's still smiling when she opens the door, but the smile fades quickly.

"Mother?"

Cora takes a good look at her, raises an eyebrow. "How – on sweet hell are you dressed, Regina? Never mind, let me in, I need to talk to you."

She is about to move to let her mother in, but then she remembers – the state of her dining room right now, with food prepped and a table for two, and…

"No, I don't think I will let you in, tonight," she says, with a fake smile. "You should have called, mother. I'm busy now, we can meet tomorrow, or…"

Cora crosses her arms, seemingly pissed off already, then – she opens her mouth, but whatever she was going to say gets lost into her thoughts. "This… smell," she says, her gaze going from her daughter towards the garden. The air is still tonight, the deep blue of a January evening already coloring the sky. "I remember this smell, I know I felt it before, a long time ago. What is it? It's sickening, too sweet."

Regina forces a smile, but her eyes scan the garden too, seeing if she can spot him before Cora does. She prays he'll stay hidden, that he knows he has to wait in the shadows for a while.

Evidently, Cora doesn't find what she's looking for. She shakes her head slowly, but the smell is there, clear as day – because maybe Regina has gotten used to his disgusting smell, maybe it doesn't bother her like it used to…

"We'll see each other soon, Regina," Cora says, sharp. "I'll call you. And I expect to find you… less busy."

"Of course," she answers, almost absentmindedly as she watches her mother descend the steps to her door and mount in her car. Only when she sees the car disappear around the corner, she breathes again.

She feels his arms around her before she can hear him.

"You alright, love?"

And although she's still tense, Regina turns to face him, starting to smile.

.:.

He can feel her mood, somehow, he thinks – she's anxious, still, her eyes glancing at the road where her mother disappeared, because… it's been close.

Had Cora arrived just fifteen minutes later, she'd have found him inside – and there's some sort of scene playing in his mind, where he's with Regina and a storm of devils enter her house – and the faint smell that Cora has felt is now potent, there is no way to deny that there's an angel inside that house, maybe they should have gone out to eat…

…but then, almost everyone knows them in some way, in this town, and –

"Robin?"

He shakes himself from his thoughts, looks down. Regina looks concerned, if not amused. "Are you still with me?"

"Yes, sorry," he coughs lightly, his hand running through his hair. "I guess I panicked for a minute. I'm sorry, I…"

"Don't be silly," she says. Her eyes are so bright, shining in the night. "I didn't know she was going to come here. I'm glad you weren't here yet."

"It's not your fault," he murmurs. She's so close now, Regina, her perfume is so powerful – it reminds him of the day they met, it seems it was years ago – and yet it's only been months and she's been…

"Let's go inside," she says, quietly, with a last glance at the road. But her mother is not coming back, so he follows her through the door, takes care of locking it with the deadbolt.

.:.

She has to focus to breathe now, but she finds that the more her mother gets further from her, the more she stays with Robin, the safer she feels. It was close, that much is true. But –

"You've really outdone yourself, love," he interrupts her thoughts, halting in the middle of the dining room. "I was expecting something… less… serious."

"Go big or go home, kids say these days," she smiles. She's glad of the impression she's made on him, even if he probably ignored the way she dressed herself. "Speaking of kids… can we agree we're not going to talk about work tonight? I have a pile of essays to grade and I really don't want to think about them for a while."

"Ugh. Of course, we won't talk of school. Not when we could be talking of a thousand other things. Or… not talking."

"Not talking, uh?" she gets close to him, a little more than earlier, and – since when have they started getting so close? "And what will we do, if we're not talking? We'll play chess?"

"I'll have you know that I'm an excellent player," he murmurs. She can feel his breath now, she can feel the warmth of his body and the warmth of his light, pushing against her darkness like a magnetic field, its edges round and shapeless.

Her breath catches, for a moment, she looks up – she's never noticed how tall he is, taller than her, and it's a bit unfair, isn't it, that she'd have to get on tiptoes to kiss him –

"Let's… let's go eat," she whispers, shaking herself, because he's – goddamn – infuriating, always distracting her, even if she very much likes to be distracted.

.:.

It's going well.

Too well.

He didn't expect it.

They're eating – and it's all incredibly good, god, this woman is a witch in the kitchen, she – Robin chuckles, alone in the bathroom, while he washes his hands. Maybe this can work, he thinks. If they stay hidden, if they just… meet every once in a while, and keep their relationship a secret until they find a solution, maybe it can go on like this. After all, who cares of her mother and of the armies of devils and angels who could easily slaughter them if they knew?

Perhaps a disguise, it could work. The changes of the body are not his strongest suit, but it'd be a small, temporary miracle. He lets himself daydream about it for a moment – to be able to go with her at the movies, for example, or to dinner, and they could be just like any normal couple.

He'll have to talk to her about it. Just… not today, because she likes to pretend to be fine, Regina, but the meeting with Cora has shaken her, he knows it. She's good at hiding it, though, and he could easily be fooled, but he knows what it means when she presses her hand against her stomach and her smile trembles.

"Robin?" comes her voice, from the living room. "You alright in there?"

"Yeah," he answers, turning off the light. "Sure." He joins her on the sofa, remembers that time when they went to the Elsewhere together. It was a couple of weeks ago, but it feels like ages.

He takes the glass of wine she's offering him. She's so relaxed tonight, he notices. He doesn't think he's ever seen her like this, actually. And it's beautiful, to finally be sitting next to her with their feelings more or less in the open – his, at least – and –

"Are you going to kiss me tonight?" her voice comes, and he almost chokes.

He gurgles to gulp down his wine, gives a couple of coughs and looks at her. He must be a sight, all red-faced, he thinks, but she's merely smiling, her eyebrow raised.

"I… you just had to ask that question while I was drinking, didn't you?"

"Of course I had, darling, it's my job to embarrass you," she mocks him, but her eyes are shining, and her voice betrays her amusement.

"Well, I… I'll admit that I'd very much like to, yes. If you want to, that is."

Regina looks at him, shakes her head slowly. "You are adorable," she states. "But you got it entirely wrong. If we're to kiss…" she leans closer to whisper into his ear, and he shivers, "I want to kiss you first."

Robin knows, in a very small, remote and still lucid part of his brain, that he should feel a thousand bells ringing, warning signals, guilt and shame and everything all together. He should feel repulsed, frightened, or like a little fox heading straight towards a trap, he should hear the reprimands of his superiors and of all the gods, he should fight her and just stop himself from feeling so much.

Thing is, he doesn't.

Not one of those feelings is real, not one is remotely as important as the woman – devil – as Regina, who's so impossibly close he can feel her breath on his skin. Nothing matters but her right now, to hell the consequences, as he slowly nods, his eyes closing and –

The planet spins and Regina is kissing him, he's kissing her back with equal intensity, and it's nothing like he imagined because it's even better. He'd like to say that he didn't want to, that he wasn't enjoy every second, but the truth is that he never wants that kiss to end, because once it does, the world has to start again. She gripes his shirt and pulls him closer, and his hand finds its way into her hair, sinking there, his heart swollen with a flash of pure, unabated happiness.

Finally, she seems to sing, her perfume of roses and ashes clouding his judgment until there's nothing left of it.

.:.

And Finally, he whispers, his mouth still there and lips pressing to the corner of hers, and his eyes still closed, she can't help to smile at that.

"Gods, Regina," he murmurs – reverently, maybe, – as if she's the fucking answer to all his prayers, and – does it feel this way to be truly desired, she wonders? Not because of her powers or for her body but rather, because he saw through it all, through them being enemies and eons of war and hunger and he saw someone worth –

Worth –

Is she?

"You're sure?" she wonders out loud, touching his face, his cheek. "No regrets, still?"

His eyes glint in the darkness of the room, she notices just now that the lights are gone.

"No regrets," he confirms, thank fuck, but there's still that little ball of cold consternation right there in her chest. He could melt that ball like it's ice or snow, she knows, because if she lets herself go, he – could he be that bright sunlight she sees when she closes her eyes?

"I'm glad," she tells him, almost hungrily, resumes to kiss him. She knows they won't be doing anything more than that, tonight, but honestly, the world can wait – her species and all the gods, they can wait, because maybe she has found something that makes immortality worth living.

Just for now, they'll deal with the rest later.

.:.

Mal is at her desk, tonight.

Lucius tried to convince her to go out – but she told him she's busy, and truly, she is – she's working for him, after all. She's plotting, Mal, doing what she does best, and while her boyfriend amuses himself with his great schemes of Apocalypse and overthrowing the status quo, she's actually one step ahead of him. After all, she's one of the smartest devils. Mal works for the same goals, but today she's more optimistic than usual.

She's at the phone, with one of the lesser devils, because great revolutions start from the bottom. And in that moment, an e-mail arrives.

It's Cora.

Mal doesn't particularly like her – she's one of them, after all, the old school, too close to the next regeneration to actually help, so she'll be cautious while reading her news. Because Cora is a liar, and even though you shouldn't trust a demon anyway, Cora is particularly untrustworthy.

She reads.

I went to see Regina, it says. And I don't think she was alone.
I know I shouldn't be telling you this, that I should have reported to the higher authorities first, but I felt that if there's someone who can do something quickly, that one is you. And Lucifer will excuse me if I prefer a rapid execution to a long bureaucratic process, right?

The letter goes on, and Mal's eyebrows rise as she reads.

She prints the mail, just to feel the pleasant sensation of physically crumpling the paper.

Smiling, she goes back to her work. She'll have to answer Cora, but… tomorrow. Honestly, what Cora wrote was practically insane.

As if Regina had the guts to go gallivanting with an angel.