Chapter Summary: John asks Robin if he thinks loving Regina is still worth it.
Day 8 cont.
They spent the day together as a family. Not one moment was spent apart, a welcome change from the past few months. As soon as he had them all in reach – Regina, Henry, Roland and his daughter – Robin finally felt his soul settle. For the first time since he'd returned he felt comfortable in his own skin, even with the numbers. It was almost as if he could feel time slowing down for him.
They'd squeezed into one tent for the night. Stuffed in tighter than pigs in a blanket, he could almost feel them all breathing in sync, the four pieces of his heart. He stays awake longer than any of them. Just listening to them breath and dream together. It's all he's ever wanted – ever since that day in the forest when he first laid eyes on her. He knows that it won't last but for now it's enough.
He slips out for a moment, wants to give them – and himself – a little breathing room for a while.
It's late and though a fire still burns in the center of the camp, most of the merry men have retired to their tents for the night.
Only one remains next to fire and even from a distance he can tell who it is.
"John," he says in greeting, as he takes a seat next to him on a log.
His burly friend only offers him a shallow grunt in response. Robin's always been told they were a sight to see side by side, even when they were children and John was barely half his size. But oh how the times have changed. John is the much larger one of them now, more than twice Robin's size and three times as strong.
For a moment they sit together in silence, watching the flames flicker and listening to the wood crackle under the heat.
John is the first to speak. "So… 358 days, huh?"
Robin nods, not even questioning how he found out.
John sighs. "How do you know?"
Robin shoves down his sleeve on his right arm, revealing the numbers branded above his lion's tattoo. "Because fate has made it impossible to ignore."
John's lips part in shock as he takes in the numbers. "And you're sure that it means – "
"Yes." Robin cuts him off. "Every night at the stroke of twelve it changes, marking how much time I have left."
John runs his hand over his face. "Shit," he mutters. "358 days."
"358 days," Robin repeats. "But I suppose it's more than most dead men get."
John scoffs at him before turning his gaze back to the fire. "I don't suppose you'll be spending many of those days here."
Robin sighs before shaking her head. "No. We'll be returning to Storybrooke with Roland as soon as we can."
John's shoulder's slump in a way so sleight that it would be imperceptible to anyone other than the man who sat beside him, the one who'd known him since he was a child who resorted to thievery just to eat. He was disappointed, Robin could tell, but he quickly recovered.
Turning to Robin he asks, "And she'll be able to help you there?"
Robin is silent for a moment. "She'll be able to try."
He lets the implication hang in the air, thickening the tension between them. They return to silence then.
A few moments pass before John starts to subtly shake his head. "With all the pain you've endured since you met her… do you still believe she was worth it all?"
His words aren't angry or accusing, simply curious. And Robin can't blame him for that. On paper loving Regina Mills was the most dangerous thing he'd ever done, even before he'd offered up his life to save her. But even still, all he can think about is the four beating hearts he'd left behind in the tent and how grateful he is for the chance to love each of them. So he nods his head.
"Yes she was worth it. Was, is and always will be."
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