Chapter 3: Dimples and Bruising
Regina appears back in the middle of her tent, her eyes closed and shoulders slumped. Everything aches, her back, her feet, her hands from the burn of pebbles and rock as they cut to break her fall. She's filthy, covered from head to toe in grim.
She needs to clean up before Snow sees her, wants to avoid a conversation that starts with questions and ends with answers she doesn't want to give and doesn't really know herself.
She has her own questions, starting with, what the hell just happened?
Regina's thoughts stray to the thief, the outlaw she met in the woods as she slowly slips off what used to be a nightgown, shivering as cold air meets her naked skin. She winces as cotton fabric irritates the particularly nasty gash on her arm, the blood is starting to congeal around the edges, but it's still dreadful to look at and stings. She needs to keep an eye on it, but it's the least of her worries at the moment.
She's more preoccupied with the concern she saw in thief's eyes, his brash words and bold behavior. No one has ever spoken to her the way he did, no one has had the balls or courage to do so.
What did he care if her heart beat in the ground instead of in her chest? What did he know of her pain? And, why had she listened to him for so long?
She hears someone moving around outside, wonders who it is until she picks out Granny's voice, hollering at Ruby to "wake up and help her make breakfast for these animals." Regina smirks, the old woman would be up before everyone else, or at least, seemingly so, since no one knows she's been up for a few hours now.
Regina doesn't have many options in the clothing department, not until they find a local village or market to restock supplies and look for proper provisions for their journey to the castle, which is a month on foot at the rate they're going without horses. Two more reasons to miss Storybrooke – cars and a closet filled with tailored pencil skirts, six inch high heels, and designer dresses that hugged every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination. She could use magic to create something, but it seems pointless, so, for now, she makes do with what she wore yesterday, pulls it out of her bag, and places it in a pile on the floor.
She picks the nightgown up from where it pooled near her feet, tears off some of the fabric that managed to remain relatively clean, and, with a wave of her hand, a bowl of water and lavender oil appears on the ground beside her.
"All magic comes with a price, dearie," Rumple's voice echoes in her head, she feels her body already paid for this one.
Regina sits down on her bedroll and bends one of her knees, she submerges the torn cloth in the water, wrings it out, and begins to wipe dirt and pinprick droplets of blood off her scraped shins. It's a ritual she's all too familiar with, having spent many nights alone in her room, cleaning up cuts and blocking out pain. The rhythm of the liquid soothes and the oil stings, but as she lifts her hand away her skin is clean.
Her mother wasn't kind or empathetic. Her mentor wasn't merciful or understanding. They each taught obedience through the stinging of knives, the burning of hot wax, or the cruelty of magic and harsh words. They didn't calm away her tears with butterflies kisses or terms of endearment. They often left her with their lessons, battered, black-and-blue and said it would make her stronger, that they were only doing what was in her best interest.
She dunks the cloth in the bowl of water again and repeats, listening as water clings to the rag, drips down her knees, and finds its way back into the bowl with a twist of her wrists and a squeeze of her hands. The rhythm continues until both her legs and feet are back to how they started before she awoke from her nightmare.
Regina never had someone who took the time to take care of her or remind her to even take care of herself, but she does her best. She moves onto her arms, careful of the cut the beast's talons left behind, and soon she lifts her hair off her neck, and lets the coolness ease some of the tension out of her muscles.
It happened so quickly she hadn't been able to get a great look at it, but she swears that flying creature looked like a monkey.
"Whatever it is, I'll make it wish it was never born," she whispers, picking leaves and twigs out of her hair and placing them in a small pile on the ground by her feet.
Regina collects her raven locks into a braid. She ties it at the bottom with a thin piece of leather she yanked off the strap of a bag, draping it over her shoulder. Rummaging through the bag again, she pulls out a small compact mirror, another parting gift from the sleeping beauty and her prince.
"Oh, if Maleficent could see me now? I really have hit rock bottom," Regina says, while looking into the small reflective surface.
Her face untouched by foundation, lipstick, mascara or eyeliner. The reflection she sees looks like someone she once knew, the woman she was for just a brief time, the one who hesitated to rip out the heart of a unicorn, who stilled her hands at the thought of using magic. The one who didn't look like her mother. Her eyes bare like her body, worn and frayed at the edges, but she sees her there, staring back, one arm wrapped around her knees, goose bumps puckering on her naked skin, a shadow, a stranger still. Regina wipes a smudge of dirt off her cheek and stops to stare in the mirror. She doesn't recognize the person gazing back at her. Tossing the rag against the tent wall, she pushes herself off the floor.
A few minutes later, she looks presentable, no one will ever be the wiser to her scuffed knees beneath her leather pants, or the wound on her arm covered by her long sleeves, or the way her heart still bleeds. By the time she moves the flap of her tent entrance open with her hand, almost everyone is awake, and the view makes her roll her eyes and thin her lips.
She might as well be standing in the diner back on Main Street; these people are acting like nothing has changed. She notices Leroy first, grumbling about his sore back and a lack of coffee. Ruby stands behind Granny, hand on her hip while the woman barks orders at her, stirring something in a pot over the fire pit. Snow and Charming are on the other side of camp, pecking each other with small kisses.
David, she reminds herself. She needs something to ground her outside of this fairytale life, wants to be more than just a character in a story, if she's going to try and move forward and continuing living with these people, she needs something to be normal. She can't bring herself to keep calling him by the pet name given to him by his doting wife.
"Ugh, get a room," Regina mutters, "I'll puke if I have to watch them canoodle until we get to the castle."
Snow's face brightens when she spots Regina, waves at her, and shouts, "good morning!" As the queen gets closer, Snow frowns and says, "Are you alright?"
Regina tilts her head to the side, cracking her neck. Don't let her know how you're really doing, she thinks.
"I'm fine. Slept like a baby," she says, sarcastically, tugging the cuff of her sleeve down. "I see you're both as chipper as ever."
Snow blushes, looking back up at her Charming, and seems to accept Regina's response as a good enough answer. David places another chaste kiss on her lips, and her cheeks round like apples as she smiles.
"Oh, Leroy," Snow says suddenly, spotting the dwarf trudging through camp behind Regina. She bends down to pick up the bucket at her feet. "Granny needs more water. Could you –"
"Sure, sister," he says, reaching for it before she can finish her sentence, but Regina's quicker.
"I'll do it," she says, snatching it before his fingers have a chance to lock on the handle. She doesn't want to stand here watching the prince and princess slobber all over each other.
"You're sure you're the best one to do that, Regina," David says, he quirks his brow at her and cocks his head to the side. "Can't imagine you did much scouting or foraging from the mayor's desk in Storybrooke or from the luxury of Snow's castle for that matter. I think we're more familiar with these woods than you are."
"You mean because of all the time you spent tending to sheep on your family's little farm? Or while Snow hid in a cave only a couple miles from the castle she grew up in? You may know how to track and survive, but you forget I wasn't always the queen, dear. I was born in these forests, raised in these woods. Besides, it's not hard to figure out what direction water flows," Regina says, points downhill and saunters out of camp.
She doesn't explain that she already found the river earlier this morning, doesn't want to tell them about the thief and his flying arrows.
"What's got her panties in a bunch?" Leroy sasses, loud enough for her to her him.
"Leroy," Snow chastises. She's happy Regina's helping, she doesn't care if it's accompanied by sass and sharp words.
Snow can't help the sad grimace that appears on her face. She knows it's just Regina's way of protecting herself, a defense mechanism that rears its ugly, and often-inappropriate head when she feels threatened or insulted. She's quick to lash out and hurt others before they can lash out and hurt her.
Regina crouches on the river's shoreline to fill the bucket for Granny, smooth stones under her feet. A few hours ago, this same spot was quiet and oddly eerie with mist creeping between trees.
Her thoughts drift to the thief, his rough but kind hands as they inspected her arm, his defined muscles as they bulged under the strain of his bow, his soft, piercing eyes, and his breath on her neck as they fell into a heap on the forest floor before he'd rolled away from her and succeeded where she'd failed.
If she didn't know any better, she'd say he'd been flirting with her. It's with wide eyes that Regina realizes she flirted back. It doesn't matter though, because he's gone, and chances are she'll never see him again.
Her boots are neatly placed beside her long cloak on a fallen evergreen, a few jays fly above her, each diving for a beak full of water and then returning to their morning song. It seems everything is cheery except for her, even the bright, blue skyline. She stands and stares up at the clouds, the sun inching its way higher and higher, her gaze falls to the clear water lapping at her ankles. Heaving the wooden bucket out of the river, she turns, walks to the fallen tree and sets the pail down, going through the motions of drying off her feet and sliding on her boots and cloak.
Regina is half way back to camp when the rotted rope of the bucket breaks and all the water crashes onto the ground and seeps into the earth.
"Shit," Regina sighs and groans frustrated. She'll need to go back and fill it.
"You said a bad word," a pint-sized, little voice says behind her and to the left. "Papa says, you're not s'ppose to say bad words."
What is it with this forest and its inhabitants sneaking up on her?
Regina glances over her shoulder, and her hard eyes immediately soften when they meet a mop of brown, curly hair, dimpled little cheeks, and fidgeting fingers. A child is hiding behind a tree, staring at her curiously. He wears a little green winter coat, little brown boots that gobble up his legs, and has precious, brown eyes that any mother or person with a heart could get lost in.
"It's also not nice to sneak up on people," Regina says, she kneels down on the ground as he inches his way closer and closer, curious but also cautious. "Now, where is your papa, little man?" she inquires.
The boy smiles at her, his dimples deepen, and she forgets about the lost water.
She knows no one else in camp has a child. Her eyes scan the surrounding forest, but she doesn't see anyone else. It's just the two of them.
"Mmm," the little boy taps his finger on his chin. "Papa's not here."
Regina smiles at his brow and scrunched up lips. He's thinking so hard, she says to herself. It reminds of her Henry when he was five, and how he tried once to explain to her just how three cookies disappeared off the kitchen counter before dinner. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears at the memory.
"Mmm, not sure, Mama," her little prince said, rubbing his cute little fingers on his chin. "Wasn't me."
Regina raised her eyebrows and pointed at herself questioningly.
"No, Mama!" Henry said, shock in his little voice. "Wasn't you, either."
"Then who was it, sweetie?" she said, walking over to him and hoisting him up onto her hip.
"Mmm… not sure."
Regina rolled her eyes and lightly brushed her nose against the tip of her son's, and he giggled.
"D'ove you, Mama," Henry said, hugging her neck tightly.
"I love you, too, my little prince," she said, rubbing soothingly up and down his back.
God, her baby had been adorable, with his little, chubby cheeks, and his little, bitty fingers, and wispy hair – much like the tiny tot who is now standing in front of her, no longer hiding behind his tree.
"Well, you must be awfully brave to be out here all by yourself," Regina says, tucking a loose hair behind her ear.
"You're by yourself," the little boy points out. "So, we both must be brave," he smiles at her proudly, and she smiles back.
He looks at her curiously; his brow is doing that cute little thing again, where it creases as he thinks about something really hard. His eyes wander over her face, and he reaches out and touches the scar on her lip. Regina's pupils dilate. He's a curiously little thing.
"I have one, too. Wanna see?" he asks and shows her the white line on the palm of his tiny hand before she can say yes.
"Oh, I see. We're twins," she says, and he beams at her.
"What's your name?" he asks her.
"Regina," she says and touches him lightly on the nose. "What's yours, dear?"
"Roland," he stands a little taller and looks behind her to the bucket on its side, remembering the word she said moments before. "You said a bad word. Papa says we not s'ppose to say bad words."
Regina chuckles and says, "Well, what do you say we go find this papa or yours?"
Roland looks around and says, "okay," before excitedly grabbing her hand and tugging her along, off the path and into the denser trees.
They only go so far before she hears the pounding of feet on dirt and another boy, around 15 or 16-years-old, shout, "Roland," in an angry, annoyed tone.
He runs up to the little boy, who grips Regina's hand more firmly and clings to her legs.
"You little, shit, we were looking all over for you," the teen tries to grab Roland's cloak to pull him toward him, but Regina pulls Roland behind her and out of the way, she sends a small burst of magic through the air, not enough to hurt, but enough to knock the kid flat on his back.
"Just what do you think you're doing?!" she yells, protectively. The teen scrambles back on his hands and feet, his eyes grow larger, looking up at her from his position in the dirt. "Roland, do you know this boy?" Regina asks. He nods his head and clings onto her cloak.
"He's not very nice though, 'Gina," he says. "But da other one is meaner."
"What other one?" she asks.
"This one!" a voice shouts from behind her, Roland screams, and Regina feels a sharp pain in the back of her head, before she hits the ground hard.
"Well, well, well," the cold voice speaks again, towering over her and dropping a broken branch on the ground. "Wot do we 'ave 'ere?"
Robin strides into his camp much later in the morning and with far smaller game than he planned. It's practically noon, but after Regina left him, in took him several moments to collect himself and figure out his next course of action. Refusing to return to the Merry Men without a proper catch, he took off deeper into the woods to where he knew a den of hares lived.
Huffing a frustrated sigh, he swings several strung rabbits down from his shoulder, passes a row of small tents, and ducks into the galley. Old man Harris is chopping carrots and mincing some sort of herb with a dull knife, six of the Merry Men turn to look at their leader as he enters. They all fall silent and steal knowing glances at one another. Robin halts in his steps and stares at them.
"What's going on, men?" he asks, somewhat guardedly.
"Oh, not much," Jakan, the youngest of the Merry Men, not 18 this winter, answers nonchalantly. "Just wonderin' wot we're gonna do about a certain... problem."
A few others snicker at his remark, but Little John tells them to be quiet.
Robin's eyes narrow even more. "What problem?" he asks.
"I took care of it," Jakan says, "The problem's tied up."
Little John smacks him across the back of the head, still can't believe what this foolish boy has done. A few more men chuckle before Robin glares daggers at them.
"Does somebody want tell me what the bloody hell you're all talking about?" he barks, exasperated at whatever this latest development is and the vagueness at which it was presented. He isn't sure what's going on, but whatever this is, he has a feeling it isn't good.
"Go, on then," Little John prompts angrily, crossing his arms, scowling at them all. "Tell him what you've done."
"We got a woman tied up out there," one of his men responds.
"A woman?" Robin whispers. "What woman?" he adds louder, gazing around the room, his fists clenched at his sides.
Little John knows that look in Robin's eyes, has only seen it a few times as it's only brought out of his friend when he feels a great wrong has been done. And, John knows, this is a great wrong. He doesn't care who that woman is, he knows Robin doesn't take kindly to the mistreatment of others, especially of women, given his past with Marian and the cruel, abusive brother Robin rescued her from.
"Why," Robin bites, again, as no one has answered him, "would you have a woman," he enunciates, "tied up in the first place?"
"Not any woman, Robin," Jakan states, the smug look on his face putting Robin off.
This young lad has been a problem since he first joined their company, pushing the line between right and wrong, challenging Robin's decisions, planting doubt and poisonous thoughts into the weaker, more malleable minds of the newer Merry Men recruits. Robin wanted to give him a chance, wanted to take him under his wing, and show him what a better life could look like after his village burnt to the ground, but his faith in this lad has waned, and looking at Jakan now, Robin sees the young man's true morals surfacing.
"Stop playing games," Robin shouts, "And answer my question!"
Jakan sneers at him, hocks up phlegm, and spits it on the ground.
"We were chasin' af'er yer li'l brat, me an' mah mate, yer li'l Rolan'. He followed us as we were scoutin'," Jakan nudges a younger boy to his left. The boy glances up at Robin and immediately looks back down at his feet.
"Roland?" Robin says, realization dawns on him, his eyes shift to Little John questioningly.
"He's fine, Robin," Little John says. "A little shaken, but he's fine. He's with Tuck."
"Turns out, he's good for sumfink," Jakan pipes back up again, doesn't know when to shut up. "Found himself talkin' wiv the Evil Queen, she was all alone, distracted by 'is cute, little face. But, I took care of it." Jakan tilts his chin up proudly.
"What?" Robin asks, his stomach tightens.
His thoughts drift back to the woman he stumbled upon this morning, back to her tears, porcelain skin, beauty, and lethalness. Back to the grief he saw in her eyes, and how little and how much he found out about her in a matter of minutes by just looking at her. He thinks of the beast that clawed at her arm, the scratches on her knees from falling, and then looks at Jakan's self-satisfied grin, and he knows the snot has hurt her.
"What have you done with her?" Robin's voice is terrifyingly calm.
"I snuck up behind 'er and knocked 'er out," Jakan says.
Little John lets out a weary sigh, before raising his voice above the murmuring voices of the other Merry Men. "The boys found her and dragged her back into camp before we could stop them, Robin, they didn't – "
Robin cuts him off.
"Don't, John. Do not make excuses for them. I don't know what the hell you think you lot were doing, but we are not kidnappers." Robin all but yells rounding on the two adolescents responsible and the other men who laughed before.
He rakes one hand through his hair as the other unconsciously fingers his knife, ready to cut any bindings they might have placed on her.
"Now, where is she?" Robin says.
"Robin," one of his men pipes up, "you've never met her, but Jakan, his family, his village, they – "
"I have! I met her this morning," he lets it slip.
"You what?" Little John asks.
"I met her this morning," Robin says, pulling one of his hands down his face. Oh, God. This has been a long day already, he thinks. "She isn't evil, sharp tongued and quick witted for sure, but I saw no evil there."
"It's in the name – the Evil Queen," Jakan adds loudly, quickly shoving a chair aside to stand nose to nose with Robin. "I don't care wot you say. I'd do it again. That bitch deserves wot she got."
Before Robin can respond, Little John stands up and places himself between them.
"Alright, now. Back off, Jakan, why don't you go get some rest. It's obvious you need some sleep."
There are bags under the lad's eyes, and his hands tremble.
"She's seen our faces, and, once she wakes up, we're all as good as dead." Another man interjects. "We might as well kill her and be done with it."
"You see..." Jakan agrees and points, a lecherous grin taking over his mouth. "We all want her blood. We all want her to pay for wot she's done. But, I say we 'ave a wee... fun wiv 'er first."
With that statement, Robin instantly grabs the young man by the collar and slams him against the back wall, his face furious and inches from the boy's face.
"I don't know how you speak such words," Robin seethes with anger, spit flies from his mouth. "But, you are done. I'll give you time to pack your belongings, but then I want you to get the hell out of my forest before I do something I may live to one day regret."
"Robin –" Little John begins, but Robin silences him with a glare.
"We're Merry Men. We're not scoundrels, or thugs, or common criminals. We steal, yes, but we live by a code of morals, only taking what's necessary and nothing more, only taking from the rich and giving to the poor. Now, each and every last one of you," Robin says, looking around at the men in the tent. "has a dark past, including myself.
"Each one of us was given a second chance to amend our wrong doings, to atone for horrible things we've done. I am no more innocent than she who you've tied up."
"Robin, I know you're angry, but –"
"No, John! No questions asked. The Queen deserves the same, and we do not murder, or pillage, or rape. Ever. John, you're to escort Jakan to the edge of Sherwood Forest and make sure he keeps going." Robin then turns to the other men. "And, if any of you are in the same mind as Jakan, I suggest you pack your things now and be gone."
The men shake their heads, knowing he's right. He throws Jakan to John and whirls around.
"Now, where is she?" Robin's voice, accentuating every word, slices through the tension in the tiny room. A few of them mumble in unison that they "tied her up in the council tent."
Without another word, Robin turns on his heel and storms out of the galley, the rabbits forgotten in a heap on the dirt. He quickly crosses the distance to the council tent, slips silently inside, and the flap falls shut behind him. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust from the light to the dark, but Robin moves forward slowly. He finds his heart beats rapidly in his chest, and he can't remember the last time anger has shaken him so furiously. The tent's cool, darkened interior is barely lit by dim rays of sunshine, seeping in through canvas cracks, but it's enough. It allows him to see the woman Jakan talked about, the woman bound, and gagged, and unconscious before him.
She's wearing leather pants now, a low necked blouse and embellished corset, but it's still her, still the woman he spied through the mists of early morning, still Regina.
Her ankles and knees are firmly held together by rope, her legs tangled up in her cloak. His heart sinks. They hadn't even bothered to remove it so fabric isn't pulling roughly at her neck. He sees where the skin of her throat has rubbed red and raw. Robin bends his knees and sits balanced on his heels. He undoes the clasp, pushes the offending garment off her shoulders, pulls the knife from his belt, cuts through the rope at her knees and ankles, and moves to the other side of the beam she's bound to. Eyeing Jakan's handy work, he sees just how thorough the scoundrel was.
Robin rips the bindings from her hands and thin waist, and, given that the rope is the only thing holding her up, her body begins to fall sideways. She groans as Robin catches her.
He holds Regina to his chest, and, again, he thinks of the fragile, broken woman he happened upon this morning. The woman, who stubbornly stood between his arrow and a beast. The woman, who ripped her heart out of her chest in grief and sorrow. The woman, who despite everything he has been told about her, never once used a single fireball on him. Robin has never let the words of others form opinions for him, he's never been one to pass judgment without the person getting to prove themselves to him first, and he feels the woman lying in his arms deserves the same. After all, a similar deed and second chance was granted to him not long ago when he was drowning underneath darkness.
Robin shifts Regina in his lap, gently swipes strands of wild hair away from her face, and notices for the first time the dried blood, caked at the base of her skull.
"Damn it," he whispers, biting his bottom lip and furrowing his brow. He sighs deeply, and his eyes continue to find injuries.
There's bruising around her temple, as well, surely from where her head met the ground, he doubts anyone bothered to catch her, and there's a small scratch along the rise of her cheekbone, and he wonders what the hell she was still doing in the forest, only hours after they were attacked by that winged beast. He checks her arm for the wound from this morning, and, as he thought, she didn't bother to bandage it. He guessed correctly when he assumed she wasn't the type to thoroughly take care of herself, even if he can tell that she bathed and cleaned the dirt off her face by the faint smell of lavender in the air.
"Mmm," Regina moans and shifts slightly in his arms.
Robin slips his thumb between the gag and her lips, and pulls it out of her mouth. She instinctively licks her dry, parched lips, and it sends tingles up Robin's spin.
Gods, she's beautiful, he thinks.
Regina's eyes blink up at him, several times, before they widen, and she vaguely remembers getting water for Snow, talking to a dimple faced, little munchkin, the angry faces of two young males, then feeling pain at the back of her skull, and then nothing. She tries to shuffle away from whoever's holding her, but, a wave of dizziness overcomes her, and she slumps back into his arms.
"I don't recommend movement, M'lady. You've suffered quite a blow to the head," Robin says.
Hearing his voice, Regina chances a glance up and over her shoulder to his face, and the most strikingly beautiful pair of blue eyes meet hers. Time seems to stop before she recognizes him.
"You?" she breathes.
Robin nods, caught unprepared by the power her unusual brown eyes suddenly have over him, rendering him speechless. Moments pass without a word, he wonders silently why he feels so drawn to her.
Anger rushes through Regina, and she glares at him. Robin moves his hand, still holding his knife, and, seeing it out of the corner of her eye, she cringes.
"Is this where you drag me out to your men and finish the job those two boys started?" Regina says through clenched teeth, before moaning.
"What? No, no," Robin says, horrified, when he realizes what she must have inferred from the blade still in his hand with her so vulnerable in his arms. Putting the knife down on the ground, he helps Regina stand. "Trust me... M'lady, I'm not going to hurt you," he murmurs softly.
Something about the gentle tone of his voice eases her worry somewhat, and, after a moment she leans her head forward a bit, the movement throws her off balance, but the thief steadies her.
"Why?" Regina whispers confused.
"I'm sorry, Regina, truly. It was one of my men that did this to you, and I take full responsibility for that," he explains. "I cannot apologize enough. I did see to it that the young man responsible was thoroughly dealt with, you will never see him again."
"I'm sure," Regina doubts, as she rubs her aching wrists and shoulders.
Robin watches as Regina seems to realize something.
"Where's Roland?" Her eyes are wild and full of worry. "I was taking him back to his papa, I have to –"
"He's alright. I've been assured that he's a little startled, but fine all the same. I trust my men with him. My question, though M'lady, is are you alright?" Robin asks gently, noticing her movements. She nods.
"Wait, your men? Roland's your son?" Regina's eyes glisten and dart across his face. Robin nods. "Hmm, like father like son."
"I don't quite understand what you're inferring," Robin says with a quirk of his brow.
"Just that he and his father both seem to like spying on woman in the forest," Regina delivers, sassily.
Robin smiles softly.
"Yes, well, like me, my boy can't refuse a pretty face," Robin pauses. "Regina, what were you doing in the forest, alone, again?"
Regina blushes, sighs and says, damn, she's sure by now Snow and David are out looking for her, and the thought of stumbling back into camp only to be greeted by concerned eyes and hurried questions infuriates her.
"It's not important, thief," she bites back and brushes off the rest of his question, "but I need to get back."
"When I ask if I can escort you back to your camp, are you going to disappear again?" Robin asks, slight smirk on his face.
Regina's head is still pounding, and, as much as she hates the idea, she knows she can't magic her way out of this one. She teleported while drunk once in Storybrooke, and she ended up standing in the middle of the lake. She's still disoriented and feels like that scenario is likely to repeat itself if she tries to find her way back to camp using magic, only now she doesn't know where she'd end up.
"I'm not sure I'd make it there on my own at the moment," Regina says, glancing down at his hands on her forearms. "But if you don't get your hands off me, I'll turn you into a horse and ride you back into my camp."
The words slip out of her mouth and into the air between them before she realizes just what she's said and how it must sound.
Robin smirks.
"Yes, well, that's not typically how I prefer to be ridden, M'lady."
Robin continues checking on her as they make their way back to her camp. She has no idea where they're going, so she trusts his tracking skills and experience that comes from knowing the forest like it's the back of his hand. When he helped her out of the dark tent she'd been tied up in, she noticed that most of his men diverted their eyes and busied themselves with something else, whether it was collecting firewood, sharpening arrows, or kicking at the dirt under their feet. No one wanted to make eye contact. She thought it was because of her, but when she glanced at Robin and saw the fury on his face, she knew it wasn't.
He really did find their actions appalling. He really was worried about her, Regina thinks, her brow furrowed. She knows now that the little child with dimples who found her in the woods is Robin's four-year-old son. So, that, was his something to live for, Regina thinks, before being pulled out of her thoughts by a hard tug on her sleeve.
She looks down.
"You're Queen?" Roland asks. "Tuck said you had a crown and ev'ryfing."
"Yes, sweetheart," she says, "Or at least I used to be." Regina's steps slow to keep in time with his little feet.
"Is your head okay?" he points at the bruise on her face.
"Yes, dear," she says.
"I'm sorry you got hurt," Roland frowns and his eyes well up with tears. Regina stops walking and crouches down next to him. "I was scared. I didn't know what to do."
"Roland, hey," Regina says, touching his sweet, little face, wiping tears away with her thumb. "I'm okay, see," she says, smiling at him and holding out her arms. "I'm okay, and you were very brave. Just like a knight."
She doesn't remember much, she heard someone shout his name, the fear in his eyes when Jakan hit her in the back of the head. She remembers slamming against the ground hard, and seeing Roland sobbing before she passed out.
"I was?" his lip quivers.
"Yes, you were a very brave, little knight."
"Your brave knight?" His eyes perk up.
"Yes, my brave, little knight," she smiles, he hugs her, and, for a moment, his tiny grip on her steals her breath away. Henry was the last child to hug her, it brings tears to her eyes, but when Roland asks her to pick him up, her heart can't refuse.
Robin steps closer, worry in his eyes when she missteps standing up.
"No, I'm fine," she says, holding out her hand. "I've got him."
Robin smiles at her, and Regina's see a glint of something unfamiliar in his eyes.
"What?" she asks. "Why are you looking at me like that?
"Who knew an Evil Queen had a soft spot for children."
"Yes, well, who knew a thief had honor," she says, continuing to walk ahead of him with Roland happily sitting in her arms, her hips swaying seductively back and forth.
Robin gulps, she'll be the death of me, he thinks.
That's how Snow sees them walking back into camp. A child in Regina's arms and two men following behind her.
"Regina!" Snow shouts, as she, David and Leroy hurry over to her.
"I'm fine," Regina groans back, the nagging about to begin.
"Oh my god, we were so worried. You left for a bucket of water hours ago, and when you didn't return – "
"Seriously, sister, how long does it take to find a river?" Leroy says.
Regina glares at him.
"That's my fault," Robin says, putting his hand on the small of Regina's back, he notices when she immediately steps away from his touch and sets Roland down on the ground. Robin holds out his hand, and Snow shakes it. "Robin of Locksley, at your service."
"Snow White," the princess says.
"Snow White?" Little John questions. "If you're Snow White, what are you doing with her?"
"Her?" Regina questions. "Show some respect," she glares him up and down. "Or at least some restraint at the buffet, I know you could use a little less, you walked slow enough on the way here."
Robin rolls his eyes, realizing she must feel better. I see, her quick wit is back, he thinks.
"What happened?" David asks, looking Regina up and down.
Robin and Little John fill them in on the details, while Regina rolls her eyes whenever Snow lets out a particularly annoying gasp as more and more is revealed, until finally Robin finishes with the sordid tale.
"As you can see, I'm fine," Regina says.
"Sorry to disappoint, sister, but you look like you were on the receiving end of a really nasty, bitch slap," Leroy states, gives her a pointed look, "and you lost."
"Regina, lets get you cleaned up," Snow says, touching her arm, but Regina cries out as Snow unknowingly puts pressure on the gash hidden beneath her sleeve.
"Damn it, Snow!" she shouts in pain and in anger and bites her lip. "I said I'm fine."
"M'lady, we're all just trying to be of assistance," Robin says, he picks up Roland off the ground, the little boy looks frightened at her outburst.
Regina takes one look at his dimples and terrified little eyes, and it breaks her already battered heart. She can't ever do anything right.
"I didn't ask for your help," she says, storming off before anyone has a chance to respond.
The sun's last rays start to drift below the horizon line by the time Robin finds himself pacing outside Regina's tent. The stars begin to twinkle, and the moon glows, looking like a ghostly orb hanging in the sky beyond the clouds. He just came from a rather long discussion with the Princess Snow White and Prince David, regarding the state of affairs after their abrupt departure to a land without magic, this Storybrooke. No one else attempted to coax Regina to join them, and, for that, Robin is grateful. He knows she needs her rest, and he needed time to think.
Once daybreaks, they'll leave for the castle. Though quite honestly, Robin sees no point, if it's like Rumplestiltskin's castle, it'll be in shambles, ransacked after the curse hit. He assured them it's probably completely unlivable, but Snow insisted, and Robin volunteered to take the news to the queen, along with a root salve and fresh bandages for her arm he retrieved from the old woman, called Granny. Her words rings through his ears.
"She's stubborn," Granny told him. "But, if you think you can scale those dark walls, best of luck."
She'd handed him the bandages, and, with a nod of understanding, gave him a wink before he set off to his current destination.
He knows Regina will oppose him each step of the way, and that's why it's so important for him to have his mind firmly set. Finally coming to a stop in front of her small tent, he grips the canvas flap and pauses before going in. He calls to her, but when he doesn't receive an answer, he pulls the flap aside and enters.
The little light there is left in the day floods into her dark tent, he sees her briefly sitting on the ground, cloak pooled around her legs tucked under her. Then the flap closes behind him, and he waits for his eyes to adjust to darkness.
What will he see when his vision finally clears and his eyes meet her face? Even though he can't see her in the dark, he knows she sits just feet away, and still it makes no sense to him why he feels the urge to comfort her, needs to see her, must know she's alright. Even more bothersome is the fact that he wonders if it is at all possible to want someone near and far away at the same time? Is it possible to need someone yet not need them all at once?
Robin thinks about her face, the beauty and sadness in her eyes that seems to captivate him and take his breath away each time he looks upon her visage. He thinks about her mouth, the way she smiles at his son and how it seems to wash away his worries. He thinks about her eyes, how they penetrate deep into his soul, making his heart race and his breath quicken. He thinks about her hair cascading endlessly down her back that very morning, those dark locks he longed to bury his face in. And, Robin thinks about her hands, hands that gently cupped his sons face to wipe away tears. Those same hands that he knows snuffed the life out of countless people, that burned villages to ash, that spread hate, and spurred fear and loathing, and held fire, and power, and death.
He's been warring within himself over the last few hours, thinking about what his men see, what the world sees when they look at her – a murderer, a monster, an Evil Queen. But, Robin doesn't see those things; instead he sees prey and predator, grief and sorrow, a mother and a lioness. A woman who doesn't quite know what she's searching for, walls built so high only few can break them down, and he hopes he's one of those few, needs to be one of those few.
Swallowing hard, he knows that what his men see, what he sees, none of that truly matters. What matters is what Regina sees when she looks herself in the mirror.
"Regina," he breathes in deeply and continues. "May I come in?"
Raising her head, she casts her first steely glance at him. "What do you want, thief?"
He lowers his eyes briefly, holding up the bandages and fabric, before looking back up at her, the worry evident on his face.
"I've just come from a meeting with the Prince and Princess," he admits, his eyes searching hers for any sign of curiosity.
"And?"
"And," he says, lifting an eyebrow and sitting down beside her, "We will be leaving for your castle come sun up."
"Oh, we will, will we?" she narrows her eyes at him. "And just who invited you?"
"Snow White," he says, setting the bowl of salve down between them and reaching for her arm.
"What do you think you're doing?" she says, jerking her arm out of his range.
The alarm on her face, the words fumbling thoughtlessly out of her mouth send frustration flooding through his body as he struggles to understand and make sense of her. She's heated and cagey, more so than he's seen anyone in a long time.
Robin brings his hand up to run it through his hair in annoyance. He feels the need to strike out at something, at everyone who played a part in hardening her this way.
He sighs, drops his hand, and looks empathetically into her eyes for a long time, and when her face starts to soften a bit, he tells her, "I just want to help, Regina. Is that so hard to believe?"
His words make her inhale sharply, and another long silent moment passes between them, until he implores once more, holding out his hand.
"Please, M'lady," Robin says.
She doesn't understand why he's being so kind to her. All she's done since meeting him is throw countless snarky remarks his way, shoot daggers at him with her eyes, and even threaten him with fire and spells. But he's been so persistent, unrelenting, and it unsettles her how much she's already let him see, how much she's already shared with him with so few words. It's too much for her, she wants to push back, protect herself from his friendly eyes and comforting voice, and barricade herself away from his caring and his empathy. She's already opened her heart up too much to his tiny tot with dimples; she already knows she made her first mistake.
"I don't want this right now," Regina says, pushing him away from her. "I just want to be alone."
Hastily, Robin pulls his hands away, dropping his head.
Good, she thinks. It's better this way. Better for him to hate me and fear me like everyone else, I don't want to see his pity. I don't want him to care because I'm injured. I want him to care because – but Regina isn't willing to even admit to herself silently that she wants him, or anyone for that matter, to care for her at all.
"Why must you do this?" Robin asks her in a soft voice.
"Because, it's who I am," she lashes out, a sickening feeling invading her stomach as she recognizes hurt in his eyes.
Regina's glare is full of fire, and she finds Robin's gaze to be just as intense.
"Deep down, I don't think you really believe that." His words smart because she knows they're weighted with truth, but instead of telling him that she snaps back as she always does.
"You don't know me," she says, grinding her teeth together.
Robin looks into her eyes. Getting close to her is like chasing after the wind, he thinks.
Again, he reaches toward her. This time she doesn't stop him when he takes her injured arm gently in his hand and runs his fingers across her sleeve. Delicately, he slides it up away from the deep scratch on her arm.
"Well, maybe, I'd like the pleasure of getting to know you, M'lady," Robin says.
That's when he sees it. The smallest beginnings of a smirk pull at the sides of her intoxicating lips, and just as quickly the smirk is smothered by her usual scowl.
"Maybe, if you're lucky, thief," she says, looking away but not removing her arm from his grasp as he begins to clean her wound.
Disclaimer: not mine