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10 years before...
She lay in the hospital bed, its dry sheets scratched at the underside of her bare legs. The blood is gone now. The nurses had rinsed her off when Mal had brought her in - not that she really remembers that. It's all become a blur. She remembers the stabbing pain in her ribs, Mal finding her… seeing the blood dripping down her legs. But it's all blurred. And repetitive. Her mind keeps playing those moments over and over again. She couldn't escape the loop if she tried. And it never makes any more sense. How could it? How could it be that one minute she's pregnant… and the next she's not?
She can feel Mal squeezing her hand, can hear the doctor speaking to her but she's a million miles away. Only little phrases and words break through the fog of the loop.
"Not your fault"
"Nothing you could've done differently"
"Removing the fetus"
She can't move. She wants to. She wants to rip out the IV in her arm, tear off this hospital gown and run. Away from this hospital, away from this experience, away from the memory of this awful day that she knows will haunt her for the rest of her life. She can't do that though. All she can do is breathe. One shaky breath after another. That's all she can do.
Mal whispers that her father is coming.
The doctor says again that it's not her fault… but she knows that isn't true. It can't be.
She never thought she'd be here again. Back in Storybrooke, back in this truck…. back next to him.
In the dark, she watches his profile out of the corner of her eye. It comes in flashes as they drive past the spaced out street lights that line the road. Everytime the glow hits his face she has to remind herself to breathe. It's like she's 17 again, so young and so taken with the boy he used to be.
They haven't said a word yet. The only thing keeping the silence at bay was the churning of his truck's engine, the staticky music coming from the radio and the relentless pitter-patter of her own thoughts running around in her head. Sitting next to him, it was impossible not to think of all he didn't know. All that she'd gone through in the past. All that she'd… lost.
She wonders if she should tell him, if that would be fair or even meaningful. Her imagination runs rampants with all the different ways that conversation could go. Soft and solemn, loud and passionate. It's a waste of mental energy. She knows she can never tell him what happened all those years ago. There wasn't a shovel big enough to dig up all the feeling she'd buried about that subject.
The past is the past, she silently reminded herself. Leave it where it lies.
Bold words from a woman sitting in the passenger seat of her high school boyfriend's truck.
The truck turns down a dirt road and she realizes where he's headed. To the lake, right to their old spot. She can see their willow tree in the distance, moonlight speckled across the lake water. Her stomach churns uncomfortably. A million memories flood through her mind and she can't tell if she's disturbed or comforted by them. Either way, a smile creeps onto her face without her permission. "I remember this place."
"Impossible to forget," he replies, shifting the truck into park.
Together they look out over the lake together, taking in the moonlight, remembering all the moments they shared in this spot. The kisses, the secrets, the memories.
"We were so young," she whispered.
"We're still young," he quickly replied, with a little heat. "We're only 28."
"28 with kids," she reminds him. "We're basically 33."
He snickers under his breath, turning to her in his seat. "You know I never brought anyone else here."
"Oh, that can't be true." She rolls her eyes in disbelief. It's impossible that he's kept the most romantic spot in town to himself. She knows it's power, it's allure. "You must've brought a dozen women here over the years."
Robin shakes his head. "Not one."
Her smile dips at the sincerity in his eyes. "Really?"
"I couldn't." He shrugs. "I mean, maybe, I brought Roland out here a few times before he was old enough to remember but… it was always our place."
"Our place…" She whispered the words, resenting herself for much she enjoyed the taste of them on her tongue. It wasn't a declaration she could fight. They'd spent so many nights here, in this very spot, in the bed of a truck just like this one. Memories flash in her head of his skin against hers, his lips on her neck and his voice in her ear whispering how much he loved her. Suddenly, she was very aware of how close he was to her in the cab of the truck. How good he looked in that plain white tee with the scruff around his jawline. She swallowed, finding it hard to breathe.
"I think I need some air," she sighed, already reaching for the handle of the passenger door.
She could feel his eyes on her as she stepped out of the truck, stumbling as her feet hit the ground. A cool breeze passed across the lake, raising goosebumps on her skin. She immediately crosses her arms, shielding herself from the wind and all the buried feelings threatening to knock her over. Keeping eyes trained on the lake, she hears Robin climb out after her, his door slamming shut as his footsteps approach her from behind.
"You alright?"
She's never heard a more loaded question in her life.
A forced chuckle comes up from the back of her throat as she nods. "I'm fine," she easily lies. "Just a little lightheaded from Carlotta's flask."
Concern rises in his eyes. "Oh… do you want me to take you home?"
"No."
Her answer slips past her lips without her consent. Being around Robin was nerve wracking, dangerous and pointless. Going home would be the smart, sensible thing for her to do.
But then she's never been capable of doing the smart thing when it comes to Robin.
Even in the dim headlights of his truck, she can see the hint of relief that shines in his eyes when she says she's not leaving. A blush rises in her cheek. How can he still make her feel like this? Like a giddy, eighteen-year-old school girl with a flutter still in her heart?
An old Katy Perry song comes on the radio then, another memory rises in her head. One look in his eyes and she knows he's thinking of the same moment.
Grinning, she mumbles, "You remember this song?"
"Of course I remember this song," he says. Trotting back to the truck, he reaches through the window to turn up the radio, drowning out the crickets. "It was four days before sophomore homecoming, right by this very lake, that you first asked me to dance with you to this song."
She scoffed, scrunching her eyebrows. "Um… I remember that it was you who asked me to dance."
"Only because you didn't know how to slow dance," he reminded her. "And as I recall, you were in such a fit about it that I agreed to show you all the steps of the high school slow dance ritual."
She hummed, refusing to agree with him. "And of course… it all begins with some prolonged eye contact."
"Of course." His smile grew as he walked toward her, looking into her brown eyes every step of the way. "How else is a young man supposed to notice how pretty you are?"
"Ah yes," she replied, nodding her head. "Which of course leads you right into step two."
"Compliments," he supplied. "The most crucial of all the steps. By the way, have I told you how stunning you look tonight?"
She hummed again, shaking her head. "No you have not, but that's fine because I haven't told you how handsome you look."
"And after that comes step three," he said, raising his arms in a welcoming gesture. "One of us actually has to ask for the dance."
"And the other has to accept." Staring at him with his arms held out to her, and the unspoken question clear in his eyes, she bit her lip. This is a bad idea, she thought, stepping into his embrace. Her left hand fell into his just as his arm went around her back pulling her closer. It should've felt awkward and wrong, being back in his arms after all this time. It wasn't. It was remarkably easy to fall back in place with him, to lace her fingers through his and let her forehead touch his as they swayed to the music. Ten years later and it still felt right.
Another breeze passed over them helping the scent of him wash over her. She breathes him in, her jaw shuddering slightly as she exhales. "Why'd you bring me here?" she asked.
"I… I missed you," he softly admits.
"You did?" She hates how quietly hopeful her voice sounds.
"All the time."
They've stopped swaying now, their feet grounded in the dirt. His forehead still rests against hers and she's grateful. It's easier to keep her eyes off his face that way. She'll crumble if she looks into his eyes now; that she knows. So she stays still, heart pounding in her chest as she continues to let him hold her. God, she's missed him. She hadn't allowed herself to acknowledge that in years but she's missed him. She's missed this. She's missed how safe and secure and loved she felt every time his arms went around her. Standing here near the lake in their spot it almost feels like she can have that again.
As if in slow motion, she realized he was about to kiss her. His head tilted just so and she sucked in a small breath. A hundred times she must've imagined what it would feel like to kiss him again, to have his lips against hers. Right now… all she felt was guilt and terror.
In the back of her mind memories exploded - flashes of blood, itchy hospital sheets and a doctor's voice repeating it's not your fault . A tiny life growing beneath her skin, vanished. Just like the tears she'd let fall in this very spot.
She pulls away before his lips get within an inch of hers.
The steadying warmth of his fingers laced through hers disappears as she abruptly ripped her hand from his, practically leaping away from him. Gasping for breath, she shakes her head, "No."
His eyes are wide and hurt but she can only repeat herself. "No, no… I can't do this. Not with you."
"Regina…"
"No, this ended," she firmly reminds him. "You ended it. You said you didn't love me and that was the end. It all stopped there. So why… why are you doing this now? Ten years later, why are you trying to do this again? What is this?"
Robin swallowed as he stared back at her, his lips pressed together as he absorbs every word she says, unable to answer her. "I… I don't know why," he desperately stammers. "I just know that you being back here means something. It has to."
She shakes her head. "No it doesn't. It doesn't have to mean anything. We don't have to mean anything." She pauses. "It was high school… it wasn't real."
She knows that's a lie. Even as the words come out of her mouth she doesn't believe them. The heartbreak she'd felt had been real. The love she'd had for him had been real. It was just one-sided. Or so she thought.
Swallowing the lump that's threatening to outgrow her throat, she tries to regain some composure. "You didn't love me… and that's okay. It's fine. It's -"
"Not true."
Her heart pounded in her ears. "What?"
"I didn't… I didn't mean what I said at graduation. At all." His voice shook as he spoke with a terrified look in his eyes. "I loved you Regina. Of course, I loved you."
She stands there, mouth open as she stares at him, his words echoing in her head. Of course I loved you. Disbelief wasn't a powerful enough word for what she was feeling. He'd torn her heart out. He'd left her pregnant. He'd left her alone as she went through the most devastating experience of her life. And… he lied?
"You loved me?" Her shoulders started to shake with involuntary laughter. "You loved me. That's what you thought love was? Robin you didn't love me. You destroyed me. You left me standing here, completely alone, thinking that none of it was real! Do you have any idea how I felt? How much you put me through?!"
"I do!"
"You don't." She sadly shook her head. "You couldn't possibly."
His breathing grew more anxious. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I didn't want to hurt you, Regina… I just, I didn't want you to stay here for me." He paused, struggling to find the words. "I saw the letter."
"What letter?"
"The letter from Harvard," he said, raising his voice. "The one that said you couldn't go if you stayed here. I saw it."
Her heart stuttered. "And… you made sure I went."
He nodded. "I did."
"Okay… who the hell were you to make that decision for me?!" She scrunched her eyes closed, as if that would quell the anger boiling up inside her. "Oh my god, Robin! Why would you even…? Why would you even tell me this? What difference is it gonna make? What the hell is the point?!"
"I don't know!" His mind is scrambling now, she can see it. "I don't know, Regina… I just…"
He takes a step toward her and it's as if every cell in her body revolts in protest. "DON'T come near me!" She orders, immediately stopping him in his tracks.
Her breath shudders as she tries to exhale all the pain and anger running through her veins. She averts her gaze back to the lake, with all its moonlight and subtle waves. It didn't comfort her at all. She kept flitting between the past and the present, his lie and his confession, and all she felt was hurt. This lake wasn't a place of love, it was a landmark of pain.
Trying her hardest not to fall apart, she turns away from him. "I have to go. Please do not follow me."
Arms wrapped around herself, she walks away from him. As soon as his face fades from view her bottom lip begins to tremble. She bites down on it, trying to prevent the sobs from slipping out between her lips. Tears well up in her eyes, falling down to her burning cheeks. She knows she's alone but it doesn't stop her from raising her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle the whimpers rising up from the back of her throat.
Trying to swallow her sobs, she pulled her cell phone from her pocket and texted Mal.
After what happened at Harvard she thought she could never be heartbroken again. That all the pain from that one incident had sealed her off, protected her from the sting of all the lesser possibilities that could hurt her.
She was wrong.
TW: Miscarriage