Robin sat at the kitchen table in Baelfire's apartment, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Funny how, after all these weeks, Robin still thought of it as Baelfire's apartment. Even though he'd committed to rebuilding his life with Marian, and making a home for them in New York, he still felt like a stranger within the walls. They hadn't changed a thing about the apartment – Baelfire's posters still hung on the walls. His towels still on the towel rack. Nothing to mark the place as Robin's, or as Marian's. Just as well, he supposed, because Marian was dead and gone. Again.
Marian- no, Zelena- had gone to the corner store for a bottle of wine. "A celebration," she had said. No need to clarify what they were celebrating. The bell tolled for Regina, the defeat of the evil queen, and however unwillingly, he'd been the one to ring it.
Robin had never hated himself more.
Once upon a time, he reminded himself, once upon a time he'd been a good man. He'd stood for justice, and bravery, and honesty. He and Marian had fought for the weak and the suffering. When he had decided to commit to the life that he and Marian were going to rebuild in New York, he honestly believed that they could be that again, that finding that call to action would be enough for him to forget Regina. Forget how she made him feel (light-headed and free) and remember that he could be a better person for his son and for his family.
And here he was, no better than some drunk at a bar. Nursing a whiskey and drowning in regret.
He hadn't dared move from that spot, not since he'd watched Regina and Emma drive off and had climbed the steps of the building to reenter the world that wasn't of his making. Roland was still playing with the neighbor boy from down the street, and Robin wouldn't dare be absent when he returned, lest Zelena take out her revenge on Regina against Roland while his back was turned. "Is this what it's going to be, then," he muttered. Spending the next eight months on edge, waiting for Zelena to decide she'd had enough and enact her plans to destroy them all.
His phone sat on the table next to the tumbler of whiskey. He'd barely used it since arriving in New York, calling Marian to find out if Roland needed to be picked up or if he should stop at the market on the way home. Barely used it, but always kept it close at hand, just in case. Just in case she needed him. He'd deleted her from his contacts, but he'd recognize her number. One doesn't forget things that are important.
The door swung open, and Robin's head snapped up. Hoping for Regina, returning to stand by him, or Roland, safe and sound, or Marian, there to tell him that it was all a bad dream. And it was Marian, but it wasn't – he could see that now, by the way she walked, and the way she smiled, like a cat teasing its prey.
"I see you've started without me," she said. He didn't respond, just swirled the remnants of his drink in the heavy glass.
"Oh, come now, dear husband," she said, pulling a bottle of wine out of the paper bag, "you've no reason to be upset. You have your wife, and your son, and a brand new baby on the way. You have everything you've ever wanted, and it's all because of me."
He hurled the glass of whiskey at the wall behind her, feeling a small frisson of satisfaction as she leapt to avoid it. "This," he spat, "is not what I wanted!"
She smiled, and reached up to stroke the pendant around her neck. "Then perhaps," she said, "you wanted this?" And with that, she was Regina, smiling that secret smile that she only shared with him. "You can have this too, you know," and it was Regina's voice, "and it can be better than you've ever imagined. Better than you've ever hoped all those nights you were imagining she was me."
Without warning, he was out of his chair, slamming her up against the wall. One arm pressed against her throat, while the opposite hand reached for the necklace. "This could never be better," he hissed. "You could never be better." He ripped the necklace from her, and Regina's face disappeared in front of him.
Zelena's eyes met his, half afraid and half reveling in his misery. "Oh, but you'll never know, will you? Because this is all you're ever going to have."
With the pendant burning in his hand, he turned and walked out.
The sun was setting as Roland scampered up the stoop, launching himself into his father's lap. "Papa!" he exclaimed, "We played games and I won Candyland!"
"A whole land of Candy?" Robin asked. "What will you do with it all?"
"Live there forever and be its king." Roland had clearly thought this through.
"Thank you for keeping my son," Robin said to his neighbor. "Sounds as though he had a fantastic adventure." She smiled and agreed, and bid Roland goodbye as she turned to walk with her son down the block.
"Let's go tell Mama about Candyland," Roland said, but Robin shook his head. "My boy, why don't you tell me about it. What kind of adventures did you face?" In a more serious tone, he bent down and asked, "Were there dragons?"
Roland's laughter warmed him through. His son was safe, and happy, and for the moment that was enough. He and Roland sat on the steps and talked about candy, and dragons, and brave knights, and it wasn't until Roland's eyelids began to droop that Robin found the courage to scoop him into his arms and return to Baelfire's apartment.
He heard the shower running as he opened the door, and he heaved a sigh of relief that Zelena wasn't lying in wait for them. With the pendant in his pocket, she'd have no way to glamor herself as Marian, and he had no idea how he was going to explain to Roland that this red-haired woman was his mama. Or wasn't. He tucked Roland into the bed they'd made for him on the loveseat, promised him a bedtime story, and slipped into the bathroom to place the necklace on the sink. He hoped that she would put it on and resume the mask until he could figure out a way out of this. Hoped, but didn't expect, because what better way to punish them all than by asking Roland to go through the loss of his mother once again?
"Looking for me already, are you?" came a smug voice from behind the shower curtain.
"Wear the necklace. Please. For Roland." He hoped that was enough.
Robin woke with the sun, legs hanging off of the arm of the loveseat and Roland sprawled across his chest. His neck ached from the cramped position, and his arm was asleep from holding Roland. He lifted his head and looked toward the bed: Zelena had decided to resume the lie, and so it was Marian that he saw asleep. He carefully rolled out from underneath Roland and made his way to the kitchenette, flicking the switch on the coffeemaker. On the table was a half-drunk glass of wine – apparently the shine had gone off Zelena's celebration when she realized that he wouldn't be joining her. Robin was grateful – he knew that in this land, wine and pregnancy did not mix. He had no idea how magic and pregnancy worked, but it looked like he was going to find out.
He'd be damned if he just sat here in New York and waited for the baby to be born. Damned if he just sat in New York and waited for Emma and Regina to save him. He was going to wait for Roland to wake and take him to daycare, and then he was going to do what he should have done weeks ago. He was going to start taking action.