I'm still alive! This should have been updated a while ago but unfortunately due to ongoing health issues I haven't been able to write half as much as I'd like to. Cheers if you're still hanging in there and enjoy the chapter!

The lake couldn't be too far away now. He'd never ventured into these parts of the kingdom before, and what people had lived in the villages along the roads once had long since withdrawn from such an easy target to beasts and men alike. There was no one to ask for directions, but he'd been doing reasonably well on his own.

His pockets were light - he didn't need much besides his bow and arrows, a water skin and a little food.

His heart was weighing him down.

Marian had been taking the serum for several days by the time Robin had finally found the resolve to leave her behind. The fatigue had subsided somewhat and she'd been in better spirits, too. When he'd laid his hand on her belly and felt the baby's first kick the night before departure, a lump rose in his throat and a dry sob escaped him. He hid it behind a cough and hoped she'd not seen through it, but the kiss she placed on the top of his head told him otherwise. I'll be fine, she assured him, our boy will be with me. He held her at night, a hand gently placed over her growing bump, and wished that morning never came.

But it had come, and he'd left, and ever since then he'd been roaming the land, looking for this mystery girl he was supposed to put himself in the service of. Blundering through the landscape aimlessly was draining the last of his morale. Not only did he not know who he was looking for, he also didn't know where to look. The imp hadn't even said anything about this kingdom. There'd only ever been talk of this world. Their entire world. Dozens of kingdoms, vast wastelands and spacious seas. Finding a needle in a haystack was child's play compared to Robin's quest.

Driven by desperate hope and a wild urge to do something purposeful, his steps had taken a different direction recently.

Lake Nostos was fabled to possess powerful restorative properties. What magic would it be if it couldn't restore Marian's health? I tried that before, and it didn't work. Yes, one gloomy night had seen Robin breaking out of a Green Knight's treasury with an emerald the size of an egg. It would bump against his thigh all the way to the secret meeting point, where it would change pockets, and a dusty old bottle of murky water would take the gem's place. Marian would have to reach for her last reserves to bring herself to drink it. Then she'd go back to the same heavy, feverish sleep - unrelieved, unchanged.

Not this time. This time he'd make sure she had plenty, a bottle a day if possible. Perhaps it would help.

The Dark One had said nothing could.

It could have just been malice or greed speaking.

In the darkest, remotest corner of his heart, the voice of reason crouched banished, for Robin couldn't bear facing the sad, ugly truth it spoke.

"You're not my Marian."

He knew that, he could feel it in his heart.

The woman'd been pale blonde seconds before, with gaping black tunnels for eyes and a voice sweet enough to charm a nightingale. Now her hair was dark and her arms inviting, snaking around his shoulders and coaxing him towards her.

Something strange was happening to him, something unnatural. As the vile enchantment draped him in an invisible net, his heart kept chiming in resistance. But it was no good. The Siren talked and talked, she talked of elopements and wedding nights and sweet moments he'd shared with Marian, she returned sweet nothings to him that had been for his wife's ears only, and Robin didn't know past from present anymore. The Siren sang and sang, she sang of dimpled sons and healthy wives and the grey-haired autumn of their lives, and Robin didn't know dream from reality anymore.

The knife fell from his hand and landed in the lake with a splash.

Ever since she had her real memories back, ever since she knew she'd be returning to the Enchanted Forest, Regina'd been wondering if she'd see him. Trudging through the forest, she'd been ever on the lookout for a whizzing arrow, or for that deep melodic voice, or his smirking face behind the next tree. When she finally did stumble upon him, it was nothing like she'd imagined it would be.

As she pushed through the last scratchy branches on the edge of the forest, Lake Nostos came into view, a sweeping stretch of landscape to her thicket-tired eyes. Regina let out a deep breath. Glinda had warned her things wouldn't be the way she'd known them, and Regina had been half-prepared for the end of her journey to reveal that its destination didn't even exist in this universe. Yet here it was, just as it used to be: a rippling body of water amid a dead, abandoned countryside.

Splash.

Regina stumbled forward, craning her neck, straining her eyes.

Splash.

A blurry shape of tangled limbs twisted and twitched, dragging itself deeper into the water, yet at the same time struggling for the shore.

Splash.

Regina broke into a run, her heart - not that she had one, at least not on her - beating in overdrive. Legends of a siren had always been aplenty, and Regina had prepared for the encounter; it was the unfortunate victim that was making her heart race. She was too far away, much too far away to see, but somewhere deep down she still knew. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her cheek. She was getting closer, she could tell the struggling figures apart now: one with dark, billowy hair, the other broad-shouldered as ever in his green tunic.

Splash.

They disappeared from sight but the water whirled and churned where they'd fallen. He was still fighting, and that was good. Almost there now. The entwined bodies emerged from the lake once more, sending jets of water flying in arcs and landing with a splash, blocking Regina's view. Any second now, it might be too late. Any second now, the struggling pair could go under again, and it would be too late for her to do what she was about to do.

Regina willed her legs to keep running and her heart to stay within her ribcage as it hammered against it in a wild stampede. A blast of magic issued from her palm and rushed forward with the force of a cannon ball. It wouldn't hurt them, she couldn't possibly risk that with them so close together and so fidgety. But it would immobilise them both just long enough for her to get there.

Splash.

The lake swallowed them again, and this time, stunned by Regina's magic, they wouldn't reemerge without help. Her muscles burnt with the effort, every breath seared in her lungs, and her side throbbed in a painful stitch, but it was nothing compared to the horrible sinking feeling in her stomach. As she finally reached the shore, the water had already closed over them, leaving no evidence of the struggle except for a slight ripple and a floating patch of green linen.

All was quiet.

A desperate cry escaped her as she dashed into the waves. Up to her knees, her things, her waist. Still, she saw nothing. Her eyes burnt but there was no time for that now. He was right there, no more than a few steps away, and she needed to find him - now. Where are you? Regina reached and reached under the surface, grasping nothing but water and more water. Robin, please! Her chest constricting, she fought for air and dove under, reaching, searching, grabbing. Water. Weeds. Sand. And then-

A sob escaped her and water rushed into her mouth, making her cough and sputter. She yanked at the fistful of fabric and pulled and pulled until she broke the surface, gasping for air. She struggled some more, and the tip of his bow emerged. Regina dug her feet into the muddy bottom and jerked him upwards, until his head was finally above water.

He didn't stir. He wasn't supposed to just yet, the spell was still in effect. What if it wasn't just the freezing spell though? His head bobbed from side to side as she dragged him ashore, his body leaving a deep track in the sand as she made sure they were far enough for the wretched siren to never harm him again.

Regina cried out his name, but what came out was barely a groan.

Breathless, she turned him around.

It was him. Of course it was him. She'd known all along, even when he'd been no more than a dot on the far shore of the lake. Now she was holding his rigid body in her arms, and this wasn't at all the way things should be. It took all of her to hold it together. For a moment, she thought she might fall apart.

Then her survival instinct kicked in. Regina knew how to give CPR, she'd taken a first aid course just before she'd adopted Henry. As she pressed her mouth against Robin's, her stomach clenched - he was so cold, as if all warmth had been drained from him. Thankfully, she had more than first aid skills at her disposal.

She'd known she'd need it eventually to fulfil this mission, but she'd never expected it to be so soon. Please, let it work. As she closed her eyes and tried to recall that warm, fuzzy place inside her right before she'd performed light magic for the first time, Regina became painfully aware of the water trickling down Robin's face and onto her lap. That wasn't what she needed now, not his blue lips and slashed forearm.

Smiles. Hugs. Faith. Hope. Light.

Warmth surged through her. Her palms tingled. Regina raised her hands over Robin's chest and watched streams of white light soak into him. A smile tugged at her lips - she was doing it! Her arms ached with the effort, and the longer it took, the more she felt fatigue grow within her. The more doubts began to gnaw at her. Shouldn't he be stirring already?

She glanced from her hands to his face and gasped.

Pale and bleary-eyed but definitely conscious, Robin was looking right back at her.

"Don't talk," she'd ordered, her voice firm and shaky both, and he obeyed.

He remained quiet because she'd asked, and obeying was the least he could do for someone he owed his life to. He remained quiet because the encounter with the deceptive lake creature had left his chest heavy with denied breaths and forced embraces, false images and a pain much too real. He remained quiet because he wouldn't know what to say to this woman, not when his head had rested on her lap and he'd felt life return to him by those healing hands, and not now as he watched her tend to the scratches and wound he'd sustained.

Robin hissed as she daubed a foul-smelling poultice onto one of the deeper cuts.

"I'm sorry," she winced as if she'd felt the sting, too.

Their eyes locked. Hers were brown and deep, and glimmered peculiarly. Before he had the chance to notice more, she turned back to his scratches, dabbing away with touches so light he could barely feel them. As his still blurry vision began to clear up, he caught the curl of her pursed lips, the twitch and droop of the corners of her mouth. Her dark braid, so long it fell all the way down her back to the waist, dripped water, and a few loose strands clung to her face and neck. She must have dove all the way in for me.

Robin searched for her eyes again, but they were hidden behind her eyelashes. What was it he'd seen there? Would it still be there next time? For some reason, it seemed like a mystery to uncover, and a strange urge stirred in him to sit up and look at that face.

He swallowed down another groan as she touched his injured arm - she was being as gentle as she possibly could.

"Almost done," she said softly but didn't look up. "Only the gash left."

It was deeper than the others, and a few stitches might even do it good. He nodded. She must have been watching from the corner of her eye, because she retrieved a flask from her satchel and poured its contents over the wound.

Robin clenched his fists as the alcohol burned its way in. Once the pain subsided a little, he became aware of her fingers gripping his wrist, and as he opened his eyes, he found hers fixed on his face. There was such concern written over her features, and, yes, that strange glistening in the corners of her eyes.

Like before, she turned away the moment she became aware of his searching look.

Robin looked away. Why did he keep staring at her so blatantly? What was he hoping to find in her eyes, on her face? It was a beautiful face, now that he came to think about it. Stunning, even.

Perhaps it was the aftermath of almost drowning.

"I'm not very good with a needle," she admitted. "I'll do my best, though." It glistened between her fingers as she placed the sharp, pointy end against his skin. "Just don't wiggle if you care to keep your arm," she added with a sideways glance, the corners of her mouth upturned in a half-grin.

Robin chuckled. The strangest thing happened: her almost-smile spread into a full, radiant one.

Her hands shook a little as she approached the flesh with the needle, but once she got to it, she became calm and her hands steady.

Robin eventually forgot about the pain, watching her face, which was now a mask of pure concentration. There was something intriguing about her, and perhaps it was because he did owe her, or perhaps it was the way her eyes seemed so very eloquent - so eloquent she chose to avert them as soon as emotion threatened to surface in them. It made him want to see more. There was nothing extraordinary about wanting to get to know someone who'd selflessly helped a person, after all.

"Done."

He stirred from his thoughts. Indeed, where there'd been a gaping cut was now a row of fairly neat stitches. Half of the time he hadn't even known a needle was being driven through his flesh. Aftermath of almost drowning? Or did she really have a healing hand, even without magic? It had been magic she'd used to bring him around, surely. Was she a sorceress? For all he knew, she could well be. Yet there was no wariness in him, no unease at all.

"Thank you, milady. I owe you my life."

She stiffened and took a while to answer, in a constrained voice: "You owe me nothing."

Her eyes lingered on his tattoo for the briefest moment, but he might just have imagined it. Then she pulled the sleeve down over the bandage.

There'd been a definite finality to the gesture, and if he'd had any doubt, the way she turned her attention from him to the satchel was enough confirmation. Where he came from, a simple "not at all" would suffice. Why she would be so adamant yet somehow tense about his thanks was a mystery to him.

"I disagree. But I'm afraid my quest amounted to exactly that. Nothing."

She stopped the rummaging but remained bent over the satchel's contents. "You mean for the water? I'm afraid so. But it's not why you think it is."

"I failed, the siren got the best of me." And now even that tiny, unlikely grain of hope of healing Marian was gone. No, not gone. Further away. But once he recovered from his failed attempt, there was nothing to stop him from trying again if-

"There was nothing to be gained by defeating her." Her voice softened and she glanced at him in passing. "It's a sham. This water has no magical properties."

"But they say-"

"It used to be true once, but not anymore. I can tell."

The universe seemed hellbent on robbing him of this slim chance altogether.

"What happened to it? A curse? A trick? Someone dried it up and replaced it with ordinary water?" This made no sense whatsoever, and one option sounded more absurd that the other. Yet there had to be an explanation.

"It's a possibility. Shows a wicked sense of humour."

"Well, damn."

How it had happened didn't matter after all. For him, it meant the end of hope - the same hope he'd known deep down had been futile this entire time. Still, it had given him something to do, some sense of purpose in the face of Marian's illness as well as the impossible task of locating an anonymous traveller through magical worlds just by pure luck. His luck had been on the run-out lately.

Hadn't he just been pulled out from the lake by a complete stranger barely an hour ago? That was something to be grateful for, regardless of all the plight his family was going through.

He watched his benefactor slip the empty flask into the satchel and tuck the loose hair behind her ears, her eyes cast down all the while. As if too much was being revealed if she only as much as looked at him. Too much of what, exactly?

"I'll be good as new tomorrow. Perhaps by then you can think of a way for me to repay you."

Regina stoked the fire and watched the sparks dancing and swirling on the black backdrop of the night, glowing flecks rising towards the sky until each died out long before they could ever reach the heights they'd striven for.

Robin's frame was clearly etched against the darkness, the flames drawing the outline of his body orange. It was unwise to stare. What if he noticed? But he was asleep. By daylight, it had taken all of her to avoid his eyes, and even then she'd sneak a peek now and again. Indeed, perhaps she was trying too hard, perhaps not looking would be even more conspicuous than looking once in a while. The danger didn't lie in meeting his eye, though. It lay in gazing too steadily, with too much longing, too much pain. Too much love.

She loved him.

If only she'd had the guts to tell him when there had still been time - though there hadn't been much anyway. But the truth was she hadn't known, hadn't realised, hadn't acknowledged the depth of her own feelings until it was too late, and then he was slipping away from her once again. Swept away by a curse. Swallowed by a time portal. And now, unreachable.

The people you'll meet aren't the same people you'd once known. Their new lives have shaped them, and as far as they're concerned, the old ones had never existed.

Never existed. They had never exited.

Tears stung in her eyes, and Regina averted her gaze from Robin's sleeping form, struggling to find some other, safer line of thought.

Fortunately, there was plenty to consider.

Curious, the way things had been unravelling. Zelena most likely didn't know just how beneficial - to Regina, of course - the meddling with her time portal had been. Regina hadn't been erased from ever existing as Zelena had planned for her to be, but had taken Zelena's place instead. It was a sordid, forlorn place. It didn't actually differ much from what Regina had grown up in. Yes, in her life there'd never been poverty, or the stirrings of magic she didn't know what to do with. But she did know the debilitating effect addiction could have, and the abuse at the hands of one parent, while the other barely had it in them to step up against it. Zelena's life had been different yet disturbingly familiar.

What had Zelena made of Regina's life, though? The life that she'd so desperately desired? Had she discovered for herself what Regina had noticed even in Storybrooke - that they shared more than blood, even though appearances might initially belie this? Was Zelena on the verge of casting the Dark Curse like Regina once had? Or had her life veered into new directions? The king was dead, Regina'd heard so much. The queen was feared and despised. Snow White had been cast out. So far, not much change.

Then there was the desolate landscape. Regina had been avoiding towns, and it was surprisingly easy to do - there hardly seemed to be any left. Misery was everywhere she looked. Even her own reign of terror had never stricken the kingdom in such blatant ways. In her time, economy had been good, peasants had food and shelter and indeed, freedom to do as they pleased as long as they didn't insist on foolishly defying their queen. Now, not so much. But who was she to judge?

Robin uttered a small sigh and a few jumbled words she didn't catch. Regina moved over and leaned over him. He was fast asleep, dreaming. Of her? Of the other her. Perhaps there was no her.

Regina tore her eyes from Robin's face and returned to her place by the fire. She was being nonsensical. Of course there was a Marian, and there should be. But her life was in danger, it had to be. If Robin had travelled all the way here to retrieve healing water, it must have been for her. Marian was already being slowly pried away from him by a dreadful illness. He was doing all he could to stop it, to reverse it, to keep his hold on her, but she was slipping away anyway. Robin's heart was breaking - not all at once, like hers had over the sudden, shocking loss of Daniel; but crack after agonising crack as he knew the end was drawing near yet was unable to stop it.

Regina's vision clouded, reducing the flames to a blurry play of reds and oranges.

I wish I could take away your pain.

But he didn't know that. He had no idea how much Regina yearned to push the hair back from his forehead or just to hold on to his hand for a moment, to offer the warmth of her embrace. She did neither.

Somewhere, maybe, Zelena was cackling happily at the sight of Regina's heart contorting in agony.

He lay motionless for heavens only knew how long before she noticed he was awake, staring at the sky with hollow eyes. There was no sign of that twinkle she was used to seeing there.

"Are you unwell?"

"Can't complain, milady. Just thinking." He pushed himself up on his elbows with a groan, and she fought an urge to reach out and help him like she would have done once. "Ah, but you - you haven't slept a wink."

Even in this world he didn't know her in, he still knew. Even here, there was that note of interest and care in his voice. Regina swallowed back the lump rising in her throat.

"May I hope you've given my words some thought? How do I repay your kindness?"

I'm on a quest - help me? Travel with me? Let me watch you while you sleep because it's too risky by daylight but I can't quite resist looking? (Just watch you. Never run my hand over your cheek, the soft and the prickly of the touch so very familiar. Just watch, and remember.) Come with me, as a friend, though in two other realms we used to be something else besides that?

The wise thing would be to tell him to go his own way. If he was anything like the Robin she'd known, he'd never let the debt go unpaid, though. Before she could make up her mind, he chimed in again.

"Perhaps I could accompany you?"

Regina's heart skipped a beat. This was entirely too much: the proposal, the curiously tilted head and that searching - but not prying, never prying - look. Her first instinct was flight. Again.

"You don't even know where I'm headed."

"I don't even know where I'm headed."

It would have been a joke once. It would have been a joke now, if he'd managed to pull it off as intended. Instead, it'd turned bitter mid-sentence, running truer and deeper than expected. Deeper, because it suggested his entire life, a future he couldn't envision with his one constant being at threat. This was a different Robin from the one she'd known, an almost broken one, holding on because his wife still needed him. He was different in a way more painful than Regina could ever be ready for. Darker. Sadder. Was this what it had been like when Marian was dying? Or was this the result of something else, something new, a courtesy of Zelena's spell?

The hollowness was returning to his eyes even as he began to slip away again.

It had been her once, in the Enchanted Forest, grieving over a loss she could never recover from. They'd barely known each other a day then and yet he'd refused to let her give in to the desperation that had been driving her to the brink of ultimate surrender. He'd been intent on snatching her back from the abyss the Sleeping Curse would have allowed her to plummet to.

Now it was him plummeting into desperation. They'd only known each other a day, or so he believed, and she refused to let him give in to it.

Yet what could she do? Words would be no good here, she knew only too well no number of words could do anything to quench the rushing torrents of pain that threatened to engulf him. She'd seen what looks could do, knew the power of silent support, soft touches or tight embraces. But here, in this world, she wasn't entitled to any of those, wasn't entitled to offer them to him. Regina pushed back the dry sob, the heavy sigh breaking to the surface. It was time to stop despairing over what she couldn't do and find something she could do instead.

A distraction, perhaps. As it happened, there was a pragmatic question or two she sought the answer to as well. Perhaps those would do to take his mind off things for a bit - and if not, well, they were none the worse for it.

"Tell me about the- queen." Because in this universe, Regina wasn't her. Zelena was. The thought still stirred up a mess of emotions in her, but none of them came anywhere close to envy.

Robin didn't respond for a moment, but a quiet scoff revealed that he'd heard her request after all.

"You're not from here," he said finally, the implication clearly being that if she were, she wouldn't need to ask. Something stirred in his eyes, and he sat up straighter with a groan that made Regina wince. "Where do you come from, milady?"

This was him: for the first time, she really saw a flicker of the Robin she knew, all in that intense, searching look, a look she'd once called prowling and invading because once she hadn't been able to accept it for what it had always been - curious, yes, but also caring, willing to see beyond appearances to the core of things. Oh, the number of times he'd looked at her like this! The countless things he'd seen, too… None of which he remembered now, because this Robin had never seen them.

"Far way. A different world," she said lightly, as if it didn't mean anything, as if it didn't mean Oz or a different Enchanted Forest or a Storybrooke that, on this timeline, had never even existed. As if it didn't mean a world in which they had been more than strangers and milady had been more than a courtesy title when he'd said it to her.

Regina waited. Would he see past the forced carelessness of the answer, or would he be happy to accept it? Would he care to find out more, or would he leave it at that? Which did she want it to be? She wanted him to ask, she wanted him to see. She yearned desperately for some sign that even in this detached universe, maybe the mysterious something binding them to each other still existed. She shouldn't. It was wrong, and what answers could she give even if he asked? But she couldn't help it.

Robin's gaze never slipped, though after a moment his face gained a faraway look that betrayed he might not really be seeing her at all. Something cold descended on her. He was looking right through her. Just like that. As if she weren't even there. There, she had her answer, didn't she now?

"Whatever your purpose in this land is, milady," he spoke with a determination and a solemnity that made it sound like a vow, "I would like to assist you in your endeavours."

His eyes locked with hers once again, and this time it was her turn to try and read him. Was this obligation? Was this all because she'd pulled him out of the lake? Probably. After all, he'd insisted on assisting her back in the Enchanted Forest after she'd protected Roland from that monkey. There was no point reading any more into this.

"It's a dangerous mission, I wouldn't have you take such risks for a stranger who got to help you out merely by a lucky chance."

"I daresay it was more than that. I am deeply indebted to you, but that's not the only debt I'll be paying if I join you."

There was a secret in there somewhere, hidden behind those enigmatic words of a debt to someone else. She might have probed at it once, but chances were she wouldn't even have needed to because he'd have let her in on it himself. Not so now. Now it was his secret to have, and despite her curiosity, it wasn't hers to covet.

Robin was a brave man, so chances were he wouldn't be deterred by what she was about to say, but Regina had to try nevertheless. For his sake. For his wife's sake - and, possibly, Roland's, though he probably hadn't been born yet. For the sake of her own sanity.

"I'm going up against the queen."

Robin was a brave man, but even from him the revelation should have brought forth some reaction akin to surprise, a momentary realisation that this was more than what he'd bargained for. Regina watched for tell-tale signs of that moment, expecting the tension to show in his features and rigid posture. Instead, his whole body seemed to relax, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He eyed her for a moment - what was it in his look now? Could it be admiration? No, it couldn't possibly. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, although he didn't smile.

"One more reason for me to join you."

Her heart shouldn't have rejoiced. This wasn't what she'd wanted.

It was exactly what she wanted.

Her chest burnt and breathing was suddenly a great feat to accomplish. She knew a way to fight this off, if only a little, something she'd resort to often, something Robin had always been good at returning in kind - something they'd both enjoyed doing. Banter was her friend.

"Very well," she said with a small grin. "Just as long as you don't get in my way."

Robin looked at her and tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

I wouldn't dream of it, he'd told her, this enigmatic, intriguing woman that puzzled him from the very first. But dream he did, a dream no less puzzling than his present reality. Once his eyelids grew too heavy for even worries to keep him awake, Robin drifted off - no, was snatched by sleep, not falling but plummeting into its depths.

He was trampling through a stretch of thick forest in a darkness so dense no matter how much he squinted, he didn't recognise so much as an outline of a tree, not a bright spot of sky through the leaves he only suspected high above him. The harder he trained his eyes, the more prone he seemed to stumbling. Bumping into yet another trunk in a landscape otherwise so familiar to him, Robin stopped for a moment.

Here he was again. The place was familiar, only worse than every other time before. He knew he was dreaming, like almost every time by now, but that didn't make the oppressive dark any more bearable.

Robin closed his eyes against the suffocating sensation.

The blackness behind his eyelids slowly thinned. A faint light shimmered before him, painting the black a softer shade of grey. He followed the light, carefully at first, but gaining security with every step. With his eyes closed, the trees seemed to disappear, jump out of his way. That wasn't what he believed was happening, though. The light, no matter how faint and unreal it seemed even within a dream, led him safely past every trunk, branch and root. Robin felt the all too familiar urge to open his eyes, to look upon that source of shimmery brightness - it had to be sharper, brighter yet than his closed eyes were letting in. Whenever he'd done that, though, the choking dark mass would descend on him again, blocking out his senses. So he pressed his eyes closed instead and simply followed.

Something changed as he got nearer. The air grew lighter, fresher, freeing. But this time, there was more to it than that. Robin quickened his pace, suddenly anxious to reach his destination. Something was different, though he couldn't quite put a finger on it. A stirring in the gut. A flutter of his heart. It was almost as if he were - yes, excited to see her this time. Happy, even.

Everything was shadows, but the woman was veiled in a shimmery white light. He'd noticed her eyes before, of course, the bottomless depth of them, but this time he couldn't have torn his gaze away if he'd wanted to. He didn't want to. Her words were the same every night, but perhaps those eyes would betray more, answer the questions that plagued him in his dreams: why did the dream keep returning, and what did all of this mean?

A pair of brown eyes and long, billowy black hair. A deep voice, but soft; pained, but somehow sweet. Words that said too much and too little at the same time. Those eyes. He stepped forward as he clutched the satchel around his neck. The heart hammered against his fingers through the fine leather. Her heart. And her eyes glistened. He inched towards her, holding her gaze. If only he could get closer yet, just another step, maybe he'd be able to read all the answers to his questions, and more. Just one more inch.

She averted her eyes. Spoke to him again, a hitch in her voice, but her eyes cast down all the while. As if she were afraid they'd betray too much.

So he stared at her hand instead, reaching toward him - no, towards the heart, dark red but streaked with bright crimson. Now he'd reach out and place it on her palm, or at least try to, and their fingers would touch and there'd be a sob and it would all be over.

Robin retracted his hand, holding the heart close by his chest. Why'd he do it? He wanted her to talk. To tell him more, something new, something she'd never said before. To look at him again. And he wanted to hold that heart a little longer. It should have scared him, but it never had, and this time it actually looked intriguing. Fascinating, the bright streaks breaking out over the dark surface, pushing the shadows out slowly. Stunning.

She glanced up at him and her eyes flashed - with fear? - before they began to dart about in the darkness. But she didn't speak. Didn't move. Didn't demand her heart back.

The faint glow shrouding her began to fade as she backed away into the shadows.

Robin stepped forward, his arm held out to her, the heart resting on it, shining impossibly bright in the blackness around them. Take it, he'd have said, but his lips seemed sealed. Tonight wouldn't reveal her secrets either. But at least there would be a a brief moment of contact. At least there'd be that.

But she merely shook her head and moved further away from him.

Robin stumbled forward, desperate to give back what was hers because that's all she'd ever asked of him and she'd seem so sad and perhaps he'd see those eyes smile some day.

"Until we meet again," she whispered - words that were entirely new, that she'd never before spoken to him - and became one with the shadows.

And then he knew.

Those eyes. That hair. That voice. They were hers. The woman from a different world. The one who'd saved him. The one whose name he didn't even know.

Except he knew. Regina. Her name was Regina.

When he woke up next morning, he remembered nothing.