Robin calls Regina just to say he misses and loves her.
It's well past noon and Regina Mills is still knee deep in paperwork, the stack seeming to replenish every time she thinks she's gotten somewhere relatively productive.
Emma has been in here twice already, once with Henry, and she hates that she has to send them away, bites a little too harsh for her taste and her son's when he exclaims that they've come to pick her up to have lunch.
Her hand tugs lightly against her long locks as she remembers the way his face struggles not to fall – something she's sure he's picked up from her – and only makes his way around the desk. It's no longer a slight pitter patter of feet against the hard floor but resonant sounds of a growing foot, and it's lean, long arms that wrap around her tense frame, bigger lips that press into her cheek. Henry is no longer that little boy who needed much of her but still craved it, and for that she was grateful, grateful that he still loved her as much as she did he.
Regina doesnt have to send him off. He's older now to understand that it's better to just wait it out on days like this when the workload is extensive, but Regina assures him they will have time later, she promises, seals it with a kiss to his cheek.
It's almost four thirty when she feels any sign of another human life. It comes in the form of a distracting buzz against her desk, the table directly underneath shaking slightly as her eyes move over the picture of a scruffy blonde.
She hesitates just a moment whether or not she should pick it up.
There's still an infuriatingly big stack beside her that will not get done if she diverts her attention now, but on the third ring her fingers seem to have made the decision all on their own, answering the call with a tired sigh.
"Robin, I'm busy."
"I know." Comes his dejected reply and she can almost see the frown on his face where a beautiful smile should bloom and flourish, adorned with those heart wrenching dimples. She hasn't exactly called to let him know where she's been although it's fairly obvious that work has swallowed her whole. It doesn't stop the aching feeling in his chest for her however.
"So…" She says in an effort to move the conversation along and when the silence ensues she's about to say she really does have to go, only to be stumped by Robin's quick, I miss you.
There's silence again although it's not really so, not with the pounding in her ears against the phone pressed to her. She can hear his little breath, can imagine it pick up beneath her fingertips and she closes her eyes, allows herself a simple moment to breathe, to forget about the stack of papers that need attention.
A certain thief needs her more.
"I miss you too." It's almost deafening in the silence of the room, dwarfed by the size of it entirely and yet it stands all on it's own, as strong and proud as the beating in her chest.
Is it possible to hear him smiling? She swears she does, although it's probably just familiarity, that it's impossible to hear something that doesn't have a sound.
But she feels his love and that isn't something she can measurably touch.
She can feel his nails rake against her burning flesh, feel the tender presses of kisses against her neck, can swoon over the way his accent curls around loving endearments, but his love? His love she cannot touch.
But when he murmurs those three little words against her ear, what she feels swelling in her chest reaches a part of her she knows cannot be touched, and it's with a shaky sigh, with almost trembling fingers that she swivels in her chair, leans against it before whispering, "I love you too."