Since I've been on vacation this week, I've been able to write a bit more than usual, so here's another update. It get slightly angsty but I think the fluffy Regina & Roland parts make up for it. We can do with a little cuteness in anticipation of the next episode, right? Enjoy!

The disturbing sound died out and quiet sat on the cottage, heavy and muffling. One glance at Roland told him the child's sleep was too deep to have been disturbed. The next second, Robin was in the door with a cape and a blanket in one hand and a sword in the other.

The door wouldn't yield to his touch. He leaned against it with a shoulder and pushed. It didn't budge. Damn it, he needed to get out there, and fast. Robin forced his sword between the door and the frame, sending splinters flying. He eased it a little, then gave the door a mighty push. It seemed to have moved an inch. Robin pushed again, but it was not enough, and it was way too slow. Regina was out there and clearly in trouble. This time, Robin took the door at a run. As his shoulder collided with the sturdy wood, a dull pain spread through it, and a moment later he tumbled headlong through the narrow opening.

Everything was dark. It had to be night still. That wasn't helping - what daylight could aid him in orientation would come too late. Robin dug into the solid, cold wall before him, throwing the snow aside, but there was more beyond. He toiled on feverishly. There wasn't much time in situations like this. She could be buried under, freezing just as he was making his way to her. He cursed and attacked the frosty wall with his shoulder. The icy sensation actually numbed the painful throbbing. He threw himself against the snow again, and found himself breathing fresh night air with eyes blinded by the shimmer of stars against snow.

"Regina!" he yelled as loud as he could. There was no answer, only walls of snow surrounding him - snow that could entomb him any moment, especially if he was foolish enough to continue shouting. Chances were she couldn't hear him anyway, or he wouldn't hear her answer.

A snowflake landed on his nose, and a bunch of others danced around him. It had begun to snow anew.

Where could she be? She'd have tried to make a path in the snow, towards the forest probably, like he had before, only for him there had been much less snow to plough through then. Snow drifts and iced slabs had probably foiled her attempts … and then an avalanche-like effect had occurred. Perhaps one of her fireballs had triggered it. Whatever it had been, it meant he needed to look for her at the far end of the path. He gazed up at the ghostly treetops and the pale stars for orientation, and ploughed on in the bitter cold. He blasted through barriers by force of momentum or aided by his sword, which he used as a shovel - though carefully, so as not to hurt her should he come across her in the snowy banks.

Something black and shiny lay against the snow in sharp contrast with its stunning brightness. Robin picked it up - it was Regina's gorget. He threw it aside and began to dig as quickly as possible. He exhaled sharply when he hit her boot, and forced his muscles to work even faster. Soon enough, the snow became wetter as opposed to iced, and a thawing slush took its place. Perhaps she was keeping herself warm by magic - hopefully that was what she was doing.

Regina's legs became uncovered, and a muffled groan issued from the snow as he tried to pull her out by them. By some miracle, he'd done it in a few more seconds' worth of digging and grabbing and pulling. He wrapped her in the readied blanket, but she continued shivering violently, so he tore the cloak from his shoulders and threw it over her. She was breathing and conscious, and he felt a warmth spread in his chest despite the biting cold. She groaned again as he gathered her in his arms, and stumbled with her back inside, closing the door on the calamity without.

Robin threw a bunch of logs in the fireplace. Flames roared and licked the grate hungrily. He hurried back to her, looking her over.

Regina lay still with her eyes closed and her teeth chattering. Clumps of snow were slowly melting in her hair, creating wet patches on the blanket. The pale bluish of her lips was prominent against her ashen face. Robin unclasped her cloak and removed her coat, and threw them aside. The skirt underneath was soaked through; it would have to go. He worked as fast as he could, only stopping now and then to check her pulse. It was all good: she was breathing and she was conscious, that was more than he'd dared hope for.

Robin undid her boots and pulled them carefully off her feet. She didn't flinch, and Robin froze for a moment, staying his hands with the boot halfway off. Frostbite was an option, of course - but he'd hoped, since she'd managed to keep herself fairly warm out there, that she'd have escaped it. Well, either way, there was no time to tarry. He removed the boot in one swift motion, and the other one, too. Regina's feet were cold to the touch but her toes had remained pink and untouched by frostnip. Robin exhaled - she must have known what she was doing keeping herself warm under the snow.

By the time he removed all wet clothing, she was left wearing only a fine black chemise. Her bare arms were covered in goosebumps, and Robin groaned in frustration - they had no more blankets, and only the one fur Roland was covered with. He glance over to his son, asleep with his arms, chest, and one leg sticking out. The blaring fire was keeping him warmer than he needed. Robin replaced the fur with a blanket, making sure Roland was properly covered. Then he rushed back to Regina and wrapped her in the fur with equal care.

Robin settled at the foot of the bed and began to gently rub Regina's still cold feet, coaxing warmth and feeling back into them. After a while, she moaned and attempted to pull her leg in, but Robin held on to it. It tingled and burned, yes, but as unpleasant as that undoubtedly was to her, it was necessary.

He'd never fully realised how petite she actually was. The Queen often seemed larger than life, impressive and truly majestic, and although that had a lot to do with her ostentatious wardrobe, it was as much, if not more, the effect of Regina's demeanour: the way she carried herself, how she was able to fill an entire room with her presence effortlessly. Now, resting beneath the large fur, she looked small and vulnerable, almost fragile.

She sighed and her eyelashes fluttered, but she didn't open her eyes.

"Regina," Robin leaned over her and brushed wet hair from her face and neck. "Stay with me, alright? You can go to sleep soon enough, when you're warm."

Her fingers and toes tingled pleasantly. It was nice and warm. Either death was far less grim than people made it out, or she was somehow safely back in the cottage. Regina tried to move her toes. It worked. She stretched her fingers. What a delight. Everything seemed to be working the way it was supposed to. Maybe the unfortunate mishap had left no lasting damage after all. But it could have.

Regina groaned. Robin would have a few words to say about it for sure. He'd been right after all: messing around with all that snow had been reckless. She was lucky to have gotten off so lightly. What with the nastiness she'd been heaping on Robin lately, there'd probably be no end to the lecture - and she couldn't even complain.

Well, if it had to be, it'd better happen straight away. Regina opened her eyes.

A pair of wide brown ones was staring back at her.

Roland smiled happily and stepped closer, stopping just beside her bed.

"Hi," she breathed.

"You're up," Roland beamed. "I knew it. It was Mr Monkey." He pointed with an earnest face.

Regina looked down the warm fur she was covered by, and, sure enough, there it sat, watching her just like Roland had been.

"I think it was both of you," she smiled at the boy, who kept rocking on the balls of his feet with gusto. Robin was nowhere in sight. "Where's your Papa?"

"Out for wood for fire. I'm watching you now." He stuck out his chest proudly, so much that the buttons on his green camisole strained.

Regina fought back a chuckle. He was so adorable, the way he took his task so seriously. He'd been keeping a really close watch over her, that much was certain. Before she knew it, she reached for his hand.

"Thank you," she winked at the child, and Roland tried to wink back, but ended up blinking every time. After several attempts, he gave up with a shrug and a giggle.

"So, you want anything, Regina?" Roland offered, making a solemn face again.

"I don't need anything, sweetheart." His face fell the tiniest bit, and although he still seemed cheery enough, Regina's eyes darted around the room. "Maybe a sip of water?" she added hastily.

Roland nodded keenly and ran to get her the wineskin. His feet tapped on the beaten earth floor as he hurried back. Regina drank up. It had actually been a good idea, some life seemed to be returning to her as she drank. Roland stood by her bed again, shuffling his feet. There was nothing else she could think of for him to do, and who knew how long he'd been standing guard there anyway.

"Regina?" he piped as soon she put the wineskin aside.

"Yes?"

"May I come climb in there?" He fixed her with those irresistible eyes of his and tugged at the fur.

"Oh...well-" She felt inexplicably self-conscious all of a sudden. Roland let go of the fur and just gazed at her expectantly. How could anyone say no to him? "Of course."

A wide grin appeared on his face as he set to climb up. Regina squirmed back towards the wall to make room, but just then Roland stopped with one leg flung over the bed and the other hanging in the air, and looked at her with a small frown.

"What is it?"

"I won't hurt you?" he asked, suddenly looking fearful.

Her heart melted.

"No, it's alright." She ran her fingers through his hair. "You won't hurt me."

Roland needed no more. He swiftly climbed under the fur and edged closer to her.

Regina let her arm rest around the little boy.

It'd been so long... And it hadn't been this boy, but another one, one she missed so much it hurt, and right now the pang of pain and the sting of guilt were worse than ever. My little prince. How she wished for him.

So what was she doing with this child right here? Well, what was she supposed to do? He was a little boy who seemed to have taken to her, he was absolutely endearing, and truth be told, having someone like her was still so new and astonishing to her that she couldn't help embracing it to some extent.

Roland tugged at her hand. "Don't be sad," he stroked her face clumsily - but the gesture itself was plenty to handle. So he'd noticed. Regina gave the boy a crooked smile.

"I'll tell you a story. Papa tells me stories when I'm sad or sick," he explained. "They help."

She smiled, and this time it was perfectly genuine. Yes, that sounded like something Robin might be good at.

"It's a story about a pig in a wig," Roland began gleefully. Regina chuckled. This was a promising start. "You know why this pig has a wig?"

Regina shook her head, the smile still glued to her face.

So Roland plunged into a tale of one ridiculous mishap after another: it involved a family of pigs going to the barber's, with one little piglet wreaking havoc and causing papa pig to end up with a horrible haircut, which he then tried to hide this under a wig, then eventually chose to go bald instead. "And so because he was the only pig with no hair, his family got no hair, too!" Roland laughed. "And now all pigs don't have no hair!"

The sound of his laughter and her own rang in her ears - when had she last laughed like that?

"Never fails to brighten the day," Robin snorted from the door. He must have come back just as Roland was finishing a story. He deposited an armful of firewood by the fireplace.

Regina released her hold on Roland, expecting him to jump straight out to join Robin, but the boy remained snuggled to her.

"How are you feeling?" Robin gave her a glance in between two logs thrown onto the fire.

"I'm quite well." The unease was returning along with Robin's presence. Regina was tired of it, now more than before. They were confined to spend a lot of time together, and every second of it had her nerves on edge. It was unbearable, and she wasn't sure how long she could last. And what exactly would happen then?

Roland twisted under the fur to face Robin. "Papa, I telled Regina a story and now she's not sad!"

Robin gave her another brief look, then smiled at Roland. "I can see that - a job well done. Breakfast," he announced, and Roland crawled out of bed and pitter-pattered to get his bowl. Regina's lips twitched - at this age, they were always hungry.

She pushed herself up on her elbows, hissing slightly at the sudden protest of her muscles. Robin handed her the porridge. There wasn't much variation to their diet anymore, especially now that there was nowhere to get fresh meat from. Not that she was complaining. Her stomach rumbled as the smell of the steaming food reached her nostrils. She stretched and leaned against the wall, screwing up her face at the stab of pain in her neck.

"Are you always so hot-headed?" Robin adjusted the fur, which had slipped off as she was sitting up. He grinned at the indignation written on her face. "Well, of course you are."

"Let's just say patience is hardly one of my virtues." Sometimes it worked out for the better, this flaring temper of hers, but it would just as often get her in trouble, too. As long as she was only putting herself at risk, it was fine, but... Her eyes rested on Roland, who was sitting by the fire licking even the smallest shred of porridge off the spoon. Then she glanced at Robin, just for a second. "I thought I could do this," she swallowed, "but I jeopardised your lives, too."

Robin was looking at her - she could tell even though she was refusing to look at him, keeping her eyes on Roland the whole time.

"Next time maybe you'll listen to reason," His tone wasn't too harsh - not as harsh as she deserved. Perhaps that was because her life had been in danger recently - but even that had been her own stupid fault. "Regina..." he began, and she waited.

But whatever he was going to say was being delayed, and unwilling though she was, she eventually gave in to the unspoken expectation and turned to him.

"Do you think maybe your magic sort of - runs away with you, sometimes?"

It was the most careful he was able to phrase the question, but the problem was that he was even mentioning it in the first place.

"You didn't mind my magic when it helped save your son." Oh, crap. She shouldn't have said that. Of course he hadn't minded then, what parent would? She'd sell her soul a thousand times over for Henry, it was only logical Robin would do the same for Roland. It must have been her injury speaking, and all her past experience of this.

People had often treated her magic, and her with it, exactly like this. She was perfectly welcome to use it in dire straits when it would help them, but anything beyond that was unacceptable. Regina had felt used before, even though she'd never spoken about it. Now poor Robin would carry all the weight of past injuries.

Indeed, he bowed his head. "I… You're right," he sighed. "I could think of no other means then. But now," Robin gestured to the fireplace, "we could have managed a fire without it. It's…I just think sometimes you'd be better off without it." All this concern was for her now? "But of course that's not my call," Robin finished.

"No," she said, "it's not."

He had no idea what magic had come to represent in her life. It had made her feel empowered back when she'd first started learning to use it. She would no longer be helpless in its face. Of course she'd come to rely on it increasingly through the years, but that was only logical.

In Storybrooke, she'd lived twenty-eight years without magic, and had done just fine without it, too. At first it had been strange, but in the end it had been some kind of relief - until it returned and she had magical enemies again. Then she'd come to rely on magic too heavily once more, so much so that she'd ended up seeking out Dr Hopper's help. Could the same thing be happening again? Perhaps Robin had too good an idea after all.

Regina squinted up at him. "You'd better be ready to get some more firewood then if you want to keep that fire going."

Robin smiled and nodded.

He crossed to the fire and reached to take Roland's bowl, but the boy held on to it and began to lick it clean, getting bits of porridge right up to his ears. Regina chuckled as Robin ruffled Roland's hair.

"Would you care for some tea?" he turned to her from the fireplace.

"The bitter mess?" The tea he'd brewed her back when she had gotten herself a cold had been one of the most atrocious things she had ever tasted.

Robin smirked and put on water to boil. "You have to admit you deserved it back then - and it's an effective infusion despite the foul taste." He retrieved his bag and began to rummage about. "Not this time, though. I'll make you a treat."

"You certainly seems to have a plethora of herbs," she noted. Clearly he was a fan of tea. Regina grinned. In folklore, Robin Hood was an Englishman. The stereotype seemed to fit.

Robin glanced up from the contents of the bag with a grin. "You have your potion kit, I have mine."

"I do not have a potion kit." Well, to be fair, she used to have one. What had remained of it, however, had been stolen by some anonymous thief - even though there was an obvious suspect, of course. Either way, her ingredients were gone. "At least not anymore."

Once the tea was ready, Regina accepted the mug with reservations. The aromatic scent filled her nostrils. It was definitely not unpleasant. It seemed Robin hadn't been pulling her leg with the promise of a treat. She took a small sip and raised an eyebrow. The tea was hot and tasty, and rather refreshing.

Roland was asleep in front of the fireplace, an empty cup hanging from his hand. Regina smiled at the sight of the little storyteller exhausted by eating and drinking.

"You know, your take on pigs being hairless is quite unique."

Robin chuckled with her back to her, adding some herb or another to his cup.

"You weren't aiming to kill me," she said after a while of silence.

Robin turned to her in surprise, then his eyes slid to the mug in her hands. His eyes twinkled. "Of course not, I'm trying to cure you. It's tea, not poison."

Regina rolled her eyes. "I meant at Rumple's library." The thought had occurred to her a while ago, after she'd had several opportunities to witness Robin's prowess at archery. There was no way he'd missed back at the Castle.

"Indeed I wasn't." He sat down at the foot of her bed, nursing a cup of his own. "How about your little piece of magic?"

She pulled her legs in on impulse, so she and Robin weren't touching. "It would have immobilised you." It would have done no harm to keep those legs where they'd been. Now it didn't matter anymore. "But you had to duck, didn't you?" she taunted. "That almost cost you your life."

He played along, taking a sip of tea. "Thankfully, it only cost a couple of books and a shelf."

"None of them yours," she continued to nag at him playfully.

"A shame all the same," Robin shrugged, "but better them than me."

She silently agreed.

Robin was sitting up at night to maintain the fire, passing the time by carving a piece of wood into a horse. He gave Roland a long look. Even the idea of his joy at the new toy was enough to make Robin smile. His eyes travelled to Regina next. Wrapped in the heavy fur, not an inch of her showing but her forehead and the long hair spread across the sheet, she had to still feel some remnant of the cold in her bones. Robin threw another log on the already blazing fire.

That damn obstinacy of hers. Yet his anger and annoyance, so useful for fighting the icy element, had evaporated as soon as he'd retrieved her from beneath the snow, and had been replaced by gentleness instead once it was time to nurse her back to health. He crossed to her and just stood over the bed, watching her brow - that was as much as he could make out above the rim of the fur. Well, he was certainly spending a lot of time doing this, considering. What would she think if she found him gaping at her like that?

Robin turned away. What a fool he was, acting like a common creep. Yet there had been nothing creepy about his intentions. He'd simply watched her as he'd watch Roland sleeping - with affection and a protectiveness that made his heart swell. Robin ran a hand through his hair. Roland was one thing, he was his son, and it made perfect sense for him to feel that way. Regina, on the other hand... When had this gotten so...so intense?

Shaking his head, he was on his way back to the fireplace when Regina emitted a small groan. The fur rustled as she shifted in her sleep. Robin was by her side in a moment. Her brow was furrowed, her face scrunched up. Her breathing became heavy and laboured, as if she had been running, or was in some great distress. Was she in pain? Was this some awful kind of relapse?

Robin reached to pull the fur back over her. His hand brushed against her arm in the process, and she jerked violently, recoiling from his touch. He pulled back immediately, but she kept thrashing around, moaning quietly, her every breath quick and shallow.

"Regina."

"No..." she pleaded. Still her eyes remained closed. It was almost as if she were keeping them shut knowingly, refusing to see some awful reality. "I don't want to..."

"Regina. You don't have to," Robin soothed. He needed to get through to her and make an end to this, whatever it was. Pain was so clearly etched on her face that it couldn't be any clearer if she were screaming in agony. His hand went up to touch her face, but either she sensed it or there was some imaginary demon trying to do the same - her arms went up in a wild attempt to push some invisible intruder away.

"Stop it," she sobbed. "Please." Her voice broke, and she began to silently cry.

"Regina, it's alright," he began. His throat constricted at the sight of her, squirming away from him, squirming away from someone or something only she knew was there, her tears soaking her face, her hair, the sheets. In a frantic attempt to get away, her head came dangerously close to the rough bedpost in the corner. She trembled and threw herself further aside, and Robin acted on instinct, his hand shooting forward and covering the sharp edges of the pole. As she smashed her head against it, splinters of wood punctured his skin, and a sharp pain shot through his palm. Regina jerked away at the contact with his arm, uttering a sharp scream.

"Don't touch me!" she cried out.

Perhaps it was her own voice to finally shake her awake. Her eyes flew open, terror staring out of them. She pulled the fur to her, her fingers digging into it so hard her knuckles turned white, and she scrambled up all the way to the wall, pressing her back against it.

Robin withdrew his hand in a flash. The angry red gash across his palm barely registered as he tried to master his shock and mould his face into an expression of calmness and security.

"It's alright, you're alright. It was just a dream. You're safe."

Her eyes held the look of a hunted animal as she hugged the fur to her, looking around wildly.

"Papa!"

Robin turned just in time to catch the stumbling Roland and pick him up. Roland's arms snaked around Robin's neck as he stared at Regina, wide-eyed.

"Papa, what's wrong with Regina?" he whispered in a thin, fearful voice.

Robin glanced at her huddled in the corner. She trembled at Roland's words and some trace of recognition flashed through her eyes. Still clutching the fur, she looked at Roland, and her eyes finally regained some focus.

"Roland," she whispered.

The child squirmed in his arms, letting go of his neck with one hand, and reaching out to Regina hesitantly.

"It's alright, I'm alright," she swallowed.

Robin watched, astonished, as she slowly started regaining self-control. She forced her breathing back to normal and held Roland's gaze, chasing the shadows away from those brown eyes. Her fingers digging into the fur remained the only lingering sign of her distress.

"Everything is fine, Roland, I only had a nightmare, that's all." Her voice still shook a little, but she managed to brave a small smile.

Roland relaxed, and reached for Regina with both arms.

"Are you sure this is alright?" It was an incredible change she'd gone through under Roland's frightened look. The way the child's terror had taken precedence over her own made him wonder that maybe she wasn't doing this for the first time.

Regina nodded and let Roland climb beneath the fur to her. He put his arms around her and closed his eyes as she began to stroke his hair. Her hands trembled as she ran them through the child's hair, but with each stroke, the trembling grew less and less. Robin watched Roland resting peacefully on Regina's lap, glancing at her in turn every once in a while. They were soothing each other. This had to be one of the most amazing sights he'd ever set eyes on. Roland went back to sleep within minutes. Regina's hand lay on the fur just beside his head, without a tremble, free of tension, while the other still caressed the sleeping child.

Robin just stood there in silence. Maybe he should say something - there were dozens of questions and at least that many words of comfort and admiration on his tongue. Then again, words seemed redundant now - Regina, might be a little shaken still, looked almost at peace. Anything he could say might only upset her again.

Indeed, she seemed intent on avoiding Robin's eyes.

He cleared his throat. "I'll- I'll leave Roland with you, if that's-"

"Yes," she said simply, but still didn't look at him.

"Alright. If you need anything, I'll be over there."

One look - just one look to see how she was really holding up, to make sure she was going to be fine, and not just for the sake of Roland, but for herself this time. But it clearly wasn't meant to be. With a small sigh, he was about to turn away, when she raised her eyes to meet his.

In that brief moment, he rushed to read all he could in those wonderfully eloquent eyes of hers: remnants of anguish, but also tenderness; some ghastly shadow from the past, but also the recognition of a friendlier present; a briefly unveiled vulnerability, but also the spirit of inner strength. She didn't say anything, but the way her eyes shifted from his face to his scraped hand to Roland to his face again, and the little nod she gave him before averting her eyes again - all of this was more than enough.