Summary: Regina Mills, also known as the Evil Queen, has given up her former villainy after her son gets caught in the crossfire. Two years later, she prefers to drown her sorrows in alcohol, which leads her to Robin Locksley's bar and his bed. AKA an angsty, sad Jessica Jones inspired AU.
Warning for: sex, language, alcohol abuse, angst, mentions of violence, mention of a consensual relationship between Regina and Graham, anything sensitive that appeared in some capacity on the show.
/Once again the Dark Swan is this city's savior. Today when-/
"Can you change the channel?"
Regina looks up from her vodka martini when she hears her rival's name. She directs her inquiry, one that sounds more like an order than a request, to the bartender who's been particularly attentive since she walked in. Of course he's been exceedingly friendly to everyone, but there's friendly and there's flirting and he's towing the line. So of course he just smiles when faced with her grumbled demand.
"You must be the only person in the city who isn't a fan," he remarks idly while changing to ESPN.
Her fingertips burn, the sparks simmering under her skin. No one needs to remind her how loved Emma is by everyone, by Henry. She thinks about it enough. When she isn't thinking about how alone she is because of her.
She hasn't had nearly enough to drink to deal with anything Emma Swan.
It's tempting, would be so easy to tell this bartender who the Dark Swan really is, to enact her own justice for everything Emma has taken from her. But Henry wouldn't have approved, and all she wants is to make Henry proud, to get the chance again. Besides, Regina keeps too many of her own secrets to spill her guts to a stranger. So she fixes the man with her most withering stare and retorts.
"Maybe I don't believe that an idiot running around in red leather and a mask is the supreme moral authority. There are laws for a reason," Regina snaps back with an intensity that shocks her.
"Well there's the law and there's justice, isn't there?"
Justice.
She wanted justice for Daniel and they called her a villain. And she knows now that she was wrong. But Regina also knows these heroes and they've been wrong too. Their justice hasn't been pure either and it makes her blood boil.
But as soon as her anger begins, it ends abruptly. She's tired, of fighting, of anger, of her empty life.
"I suppose you're right," she replies, resigned, suddenly becoming overly interested in the drink in front of her.
It's not that her rage is gone, that she doesn't burn. But it is a useless anger now. The fire is still there, but it burns her up instead, eating away at her soul. Not simply in a metaphorical sense, at least according to Dr. Whale, physician to the superhumans. Using her powers in anger so often is literally making her blood boil, poisoning her heart and killing her slowly. Some days Regina thinks that's not such a bad thing.
"I'm Robin," the bartender says after a long bout of silence, placating, like he's trying not to spook her.
Even trying to ignore everyone else there, she managed not only to puzzle out that his name already, but that he owns the place, lives upstairs, and knows every single person who's walked in by name. And quite a few people have walked in for a Tuesday night.
"I know," she grumbles without thinking. "Clearly I don't particularly care," she continues clearly and coldly, looking back up with narrowed eyes. She doesn't need to be handled.
"Just being friendly," he answers still fucking smiling like he knows something she doesn't and it renders her temporarily speechless.
She'd known it was a mistake to stay here not long after walking in and noticing the camaraderie among these people who probably make less in a week than the cost of the Jimmy Choos she's wearing. By the looks on their faces when she walked in, they were probably thinking the same thing. There's only one reason Regina's still here despite sticking out like a sore thumb: no one she knows, as Regina or the Evil Queen, would be caught dead here. And her permanent banning from the Rabbit Hole after one too many incidents has left her without many other options.
He apparently takes her continued silence while she ponders this as some kind of offense, because his smile starts fading. It gives Regina a bittersweet satisfaction, because even though it's what she wanted, she's so used to being hated, feared, or both, that it was nice (in its irritating way). And whatever, the dimples didn't hurt.
"I just thought you might want to talk about something," Robin says, his blue eyes boring into hers. And he sounds, well, a lot like Dr. Hopper, Henry's therapist who always seemed to think she was the one who really needed to be there. As though the brokenness inside her can be sensed by the sort of people who think they can fix it.
"Yes I'm sure talking is what you had in mind every time you ogled me when you thought I was too absorbed in my drink to notice," she bites back, perhaps harsher than the situation deserves, though she can find no regret for it.
Regina expects him to walk away, angry to have been caught with motives other than altruism.
"No," he answers, never breaking eye contact, not at all unbalanced like she thought.
"And what are you going to do about that? Besides stare at me like a horny teenager of course," she taunts, because truly a reaction, a revelation that this alleged selflessness is all a means to an end, is what she wants.
But her instincts have failed her, because all she gets is a sad smile. It's tender, understanding in a way that makes her feel a twinge of regret for attempting to goad him.
"With all you've had to drink, nothing," he replies, more earnestly than she feels comfortable with. "And I'd hardly want to make you uncomfortable even if you were sober."
It isn't as though she planned on accepting any advances he may have made, but now it's become a point of pride. She wants to prove to Robin, to herself, well she's not sure what exactly. But he doesn't get to decide she's more pitiable than desirable. If nothing (or something) happens, it's going to be on her terms. Always.
She fixes him with her best bedroom eyes, well-practiced to seduce men into giving up information and realign their loyalties. Of course there's far less nefarious intent involved, but it works just the same.
"I'm not drunk. So if all you're offering is talk, then it's time I seek out," she slowly licks her lips and because men are so predictable and so easy his eyes are immediately glued there and he's swallowing thickly, "better prospects."
He just stands there for a moment, swallows but otherwise remains motionless. It feels a little like victory. Someone on the other side of the bar calls his name and it breaks him out of his stupor. He holds up one finger to the man and turns back to her.
"I'd hate to see you go. We close in twenty if you don't mind sticking around," he answers, quietly enough that only Regina can hear, more aware than she of the patrons near her that have no doubt heard enough.
"We'll see," she says with a smirk and the wide grin he gives her makes her heart clench for the briefest instance. Then he's off, dealing with his other costumers, impatient after the time he's spent with her.
The twenty minutes drag on as Robin steals glances at her every chance he gets, that same grin still on his face. He stops by five minutes in with a glass of water. She arches her eyebrow when he puts it in from of her. He arches right back, unamused, and they spend a few seconds locked in battle before she starts to drink it. She makes a show of rolling her eyes when he smirks. Insufferable, she thinks, but there's not much real irritation behind it.
As it draws closer to midnight, Regina can see him getting more and more impatient with those still lingering. His glances get desperate and keeping the pretense that she may walk out at any moment, she makes a show of considering the door every so often.
A few of the people leaving give her knowing looks, none of which she acknowledges.
At five past Robin escorts the last customer out and into a cab, paying the cab fare and a generous tip from what she can hear.
He locks the door and gives her a sheepish smile
"Thanks for waiting. I just need a few more minutes to clean up."
She purses her lips at him, but doesn't say a word. Instead she taps her fingernails one by one on the bar over and over to convey her impatience.
They sit in silence he puts away glasses and wipes down the bar. Regina watches as he rushes through, overeager. It's something Regina might normally find unattractive but she doesn't tonight. He's quite good-looking too, she notes, now that she finally has some time to really consider him. He works meticulously, even though his impatience is clear. While she's making hers known, she does appreciate a thorough job well-done. Especially if that work ethic extends to whatever is going to transpire between them soon.
"You know you haven't told me your name yet," he says, breaking her out her own thoughts.
She considers not telling him, or giving him a fake name, but ultimately settles on the truth. How much harm can it do at this point?
"Well I'm just up the stairs Regina," he says, heading for the back, not looking to see if she follows.
She does.
Once they make it into his apartment, Regina idly takes in the details. A small kitchen and living room are opposite the door. As he leads her down the hallway, she passes two doors. She notes the caps on all of the outlets. The third and final door must be to his room, because he pushes it open. He switches on the light and before he can move his hand away, hers covers it and shuts the light back off. There's enough for the necessary visability from the light seeping through his shades. Robin opens his mouth to protest, but she beats him to the punch.
"You need to wash your hands before they're getting anywhere near my cunt. And we'll need a condom, no negotiating," she says matter-of-factly.
He stares at her for a moment, taken aback by her bluntness she assumes. Regina turns around and that seems to spur him into leaving the room. She makes her way to the chair in the corner of the room and begins to shrug off her jacket and heels. She makes quick work of her silk shirt and slacks, laying them out on the chair to prevent wrinkling and enable easy access for a quick exit.
She's just unhooked her bra, when she feels a pair of hands on her shoulders, stopping it from slipping off. She jumps a little, because he's surprised her and his hands are cold from the water, but mostly because it's been so long since she's been touched by anyone outside of a fight. (Like Emma in the hospital, when she found out the truth after Henry and - no she won't think about any of that right now.)
"Sorry," he murmurs and she waves it off.
He allows the bra to drop as one hand moves to hold her hair to the side, the other resting on her hip. Then his lips are making their way from her shoulders to her neck, then up to her ear. Her skin practically sparks, though thankfully doesn't, at each place he kisses. She can't tell if it's her powers acting up at the feeling or a more human response.
"You know I was quite looking forward to undressing you," he whispers once he makes it to her ear.
Regina doesn't think before she answers.
"Well life's full of disappointment," she replies flatly.
He tenses behind her and she quickly realizes her mistake. She managed to assuage his concern with flirtation before, but now she's let him see too much.
She immediately misses the proximity when he steps in front of her, a safe distance away and worry in his eyes.
"Regina are you sure-"
She cuts him off, annoyed that they're back to this. Her palms burn with it, but she keeps it under her skin and she crosses her arms to prevent any damage if her temper spirals out of control and convey her irritation.
"I think we should avoid any unnecessary talking."
She gives him her most vicious glare, but Robin is not cowed and his expression hardens in response.
"Well that's fine by me. Because I find this extremely necessary," he says with conviction before his voice softens again. "Are you sure you want to do this? We could just talk."
Her hands grip the collar of his green t-shirt, pulling him into a bruising kiss. His hesitance seems to be gone as he backs her to the bed. Regina's thoughts fade away as they kiss and touch. Her mind is mercifully clear when his fingers work her to a peak. She rolls onto her elbows and knees while he rummages through his bedside drawer for a condom, luxuriating in the warmth of her powers simmering under her skin and the way her thoughts are reduced to just more.
The blankness remains while he fucks her, when he comes and then makes her come again, even when he pulls out murmurs an I'll be right back into her hair. It's the tender kiss he presses onto her lips that breaks the spell.
She needs to leave before he starts trying to talk to her again.
Her legs are wobbly when she first stands, unused to this feeling after so long. Two years she thinks idly, since Graham and sex and the beginning of the end. Her strides to her clothes become purposeful, any trace of the afterglow vanished. The vodka's gone, but she still has whiskey at home, enough to make her black out. She begins to redress, when Robin's voice startles her.
"Leaving already? You could give it at least a few minute before bolting."
He's teasing, she can tell by his voice and the way he casually leans against the doorframe. But her mind is so focused on getting home so she can drink and pass out and actually get some rest before work tomorrow that she takes too long to respond.
"Why don't you get back in bed? Not to brag but I'm a pretty good cook, especially where breakfast is concerned."
He's giving her that dimpled smile, and it almost distracts her. But the last thing she needs is to have him trying to turn this into more than a one night stand.
"Look this was nice, but we don't need to pretend it's something that it's not."
She keeps her tone firm, and his smile dampens.
"Well I'm not asking you to go steady," he says sarcastically. Then he holds up his hands in supplication and continues a bit more wearily. "Look, it's late and I'd rather you stay until its light again. Please. For my own peace of mind."
"I can't believe you used the phrase 'go steady' in 2017," she replies incredulously, at a loss for any other response, but shrugs back off her top.
He looks entirely too smug as she walks back towards the bed. And even though she only plans on staying long enough for him to fall asleep to avoid turning this into a fight, she feels the need to say something back.
"Don't you dare think about cuddling, or I will leave," she adds as they climb under the covers.
His laugh is loud and uninhibited, and to Regina's surprise it makes her smile.
They both lay on their sides, a considerable distance between them. Neither seem inclined to sleep, leading to an awkward silence.
"As much as I'm enjoying this quiet game you've decided we're playing, it could be nice to chat," Robin suggests.
There's a twinkle in his eye that makes it feel like a challenge. And Regina Mills is not a woman to back down from a challenge.
"Alright. Where's your child right now?" He looks at her, surprised. "This apartment is childproofed. There are toys in the living room. It's obvious."
Once again, he's hardly knocked off like she expects. She thought the question would shut him down, but Robin answers her with ease.
"My in-laws take him on Tuesday and Thursday nights when I work late."
"So you can do this?"
It comes out like an accusation, although Regina's thinking more of her trysts with Graham with Henry in the house (the source of a fair bit of conflict and judgement with Emma before her secret identity was even revealed) than the man she's speaking to.
If he's offended, it doesn't show on his face or in his even tone.
"No." She raises an eyebrow at that, and he amends. "Not in particular anyway. Although as you can clearly tell, it does happen. They want to spend time with their grandson."
"How old is he?"
"Five."
There's a bright grin that lights up his entire face when he says it, the same look she used to have whenever Henry was involved.
"That's a good age," she says wistfully.
Henry was so smart at that age, at every age. He learned how to read before any of the other kids in his class could. Even then he was telling stories. And so cheerful. It baffled her then, how she managed to raise a happy, vibrant boy despite being who she was. Henry oblivious to her former villainy then. She was just mommy to him (and she was just a mother then, only returning to darkness when Emma came into their world).
There are tears burning her eyelids, desperate to fall if she would let them. Instead she blinks the tears away, startled to see Robin carefully considering her when she opens them again.
"It is," he agrees and they're both quiet for a moment. He's still staring contemplatively at her. "And your child?"
There's something knowing in the way he says it that puts Regina on edge. She's been avoiding the topic all night long and regardless she's managed to lead them here.
"What makes you think I have one?" she snaps back without most her usual bight.
"You seem like a mother," he replies plainly, undeterred by her suspicious gaze.
It's silly, but she can't help but get stuck on his words. The Nolans and their circle have made it clear that Emma's Henry's real mother. That after everything she's done, everything she is, she can hardly claim otherwise. Sometimes Regina thinks that they're right. But even though Robin doesn't know her, he refers to her as a mother like it's the obvious truth.
Once again, she's forced to blink back tears.
"I am. But I don't want to talk about it," she says, doing her best impression of unemotional.
"I'm sorry," he answers and she can tell he means it.
Robin's made the assumption and she should leave well enough alone. But she corrects him anyway.
"He's not dead if that's what you're thinking. He's just-" she cuts off, unable to bring herself to finish. To say that the doctors say he may never wake and it's all her fault for trying to hurt Emma. Nearly two years and she still can't say the words.
Robin's hand makes its way across the distance between them to find hers. He squeezes once, a look of compassion in his eyes, before withdrawing. She expects him to press, but he doesn't say another word. He holds her gaze for a moment, giving her the opportunity to speak. She does not.
"Goodnight Regina," he says softly, like the words mean something far more important.
He rolls onto his other side so he's no longer facing her. She listens to the sound of his breathing, waiting for it to even out so she can leave.
She doesn't remember falling asleep, but the first rays of sunlight peeking through the shades make it obvious that she had.
She forgets for a moment, where she is and how she got there. The foreign bed, bedmate, and apartment are not what most unsettles her. She's woken up from thirst rather than another nightmare about her son, a feat that normal requires a questionable mix of alcohol and sleeping pills.
They shifted together during the night, to the point where her hand is resting on his chest and her left leg is trapped under his. Robin's heart beats under her palm and there's something calming about the way it beats, slowed by sleep but steady. If he knew who she really was, he'd never allow himself into such a vulnerable position. Not that she intends any harm. The comfort in feeling his heart beat, in this entire night, makes her linger. If she would just close her eyes, she'd be asleep again in no time.
That thought spurs her into action and out of the bed. She makes quick work of her clothes while she waits for her phone to turn on. It is 4:58 according to the blindingly bright screen, more than enough time to get home and shower before work. Yet despite being fully dressed, her feet are rooted to the floor, eyes on him.
If she was someone else, she could stay. They could have breakfast and talk. He might or might not want to see her again and she might or might not want the same. Either way she could enjoy the company of a nice, attractive man without any thought. She could head straight to work and use the change of clothes in her office.
Instead Regina picks up her purse and leaves.
She thinks of him, inexplicably, more than she should in the next two weeks. A part of her wants to go back, making its opinion known on Thursday, then Tuesday, then Thursday again as she drinks through her own copious liquor supply. Getting entangled with others has never suited Regina. The best thing to do is stay away. At least that's what she tells herself.
And yet two weeks later she's back at the door, trying to convince herself to stay or leave, anything but stand outside paralyzed by indecision.
In reality, it must be less than a minute before the door swings open and she has to step back to avoid being hit, but it feels so much longer. A few men walk out, apologizing for almost slamming the door into her, but it's the wake-up call she needs to turn around and leave.
Coward her brain whispers, louder with each block in the direction of her apartment. To show that voice in her head that she's not afraid of a fucking man, Regina marches right back to the bar, pulling open the door with far more force than necessary.
Robin smiles brightly when he catches sight of her sliding onto one of the stools.
"Gin and tonic," she says with all of the disinterest that she can muster, as though she didn't come here to see him.
His smile tightens in response.
"It's nice to see you again," he says, making no move to actually get her drink.
"Gin. And. Tonic," she replies, emphasizing each word.
He continues on the one-sided conversation he seems to be having, ignoring her lack of responses.
"After you left, I figured I'd never see you again. I'm glad to be wrong though."
She's almost forgotten that he annoyed her before the orgasms, kind eyes, and inexplicably liking him more than she should. Although it's different now. Her powers aren't sparking up in irritation, at least not at him.
All she needs is to tell him she feels the same way. Yet they aren't the words she says.
"If you'd prefer I could find somewhere else where the bartender knows how to make a basic drink," she snaps back.
He looks pained by her words, without any of the smugness that drew her ire last time.
"Look Regina," he starts in a lowered voice, "I saw how much you had to drink last time. You should have been completely wasted but you were barely tipsy. It takes a lot to build that kind of tolerance. I just want to make sure that if I give you this drink I'm not enabling a problem."
Her mouth falls open, just a bit, before she gets over the shock and closes it. Of all the ways she imagined this night going, this was not one of them.
"If you feel some kind of obligation to me because we slept together, you shouldn't," she replies in an equally lowered voice, trying to not sound as dismissive as she feels.
"You aren't the first person I've had this conversation with." He pauses, then amends. "Although I won't pretend I don't have a particular investment in you, it's simply because I care about you."
The way he leans forward, looking straight into her eyes such earnestness works. For a moment it's like she and Robin are the only people in the room. But once that moment passes, Regina comes back to her senses.
"You don't even know me," she protests without nearly the venom she wants.
"I know. But I'd really like to," he says plainly, like it's the absolute truth.
Her heart absolutely does not flutter at his words.
"Is this your thing, women who aren't interested in you?" she answers little too quickly, crossing her arms defensively over her chest.
"Not at all. And the fact that you came back here isn't saying disinterest," he says with a raised eyebrow.
She can't help the red flush creeping up her neck or the sigh the escapes her lips. He's right, of course, and her stubbornness is weakening.
"You win." There's the beginning of a smile on his face that grows into what she can only describe as beaming as she continues. "I didn't come here to get drunk, I came to see you. Happy?" she snaps, more in embarrassment than anger.
"Extremely," he says without a hint of the sarcasm Regina was expecting.
And maybe this time her heart flutters just a little.
"You think you can leave things to her for the rest of the night," she replies with a shy smile of her own, gesturing to the petite Asian woman at the other end of the bar mixing a drink.
There seems to be some negation while she waits but an agreement is reached and once again she finds herself in Robin's apartment.
She's already under the covers when Robin returns from throwing away the condom. The grin on his face as he joins her is almost enough to calm her nerves.
"You stayed without being asked and let me undress you," he teases. "How did I get so lucky tonight?"
Regina rolls her eyes, but he can hardly infer any malice from it with the shy smile on her face.
"So tell me something about yourself," he says, after a few moments of silence. Her worry must show itself on her face because he's quick to reassure. "Nothing big, just talk to me."
I used to ride horses when I was growing up is the first thing that comes to her mind. She isn't used to this kind of genuine interest in her solitary existence but the words are out of her mouth before she can think too hard.
He asks questions and listens to her talk about Rocinante and the few times she competed until her guard is almost down.
"I was quite good at archery. Still am I suppose," he returns when she asks for his own unusual childhood hobby.
They go on trading inane facts: favorite movies, the last shows they binged on Netflix, her anecdotes from working the mayor's office and his from bartending. There's nothing of consequence, but he still manages to make her smile and laugh and feel light.
Regina hasn't felt like this, like much of anything, in so long. Since she first saw Henry in that hospital bed, it's just been anger and numbness (as a side effect of circumstance and a choice of one too many drinks). The occasional bouts of sadness have been cut off as swiftly as she can manage.
He finishes an animated story about a man caught with another woman by his pregnant girlfriend, which resulted dramatic breakups with both.
When their laughter quiets and eventually peters out, they're left in a comfortable silence that Regina has no desire to break. But Robin apparently has other plans.
"Can I ask you a question?" he asks with a seriousness that can only mean the end of their light banter.
"I'm not stopping you," she replies, against her better judgement but without hesitation.
"Are you an alcoholic? And answer me this time."
She doesn't for a while, but Robin is patient, allowing her silence while she thinks of a response.
"I don't know." He gives a quizzical expression in response. Her voice is practically a whisper when she continues. "I needed something else to fill the void and to take away the pain. Alcohol works," she finishes with a shrug in an attempt to play down the vulnerability she just expressed.
"I understand. When I lost my wife I," he pauses, voice thick with emotion, "I felt there was no reason to go on. If not for my son," he stops again, and her hand moves on instinct, interlacing their fingers. "I know how you feel, is what I'm trying to say."
Its pure instinct when Regina leans in to brush a soft, sweet kiss on his lips.
She doesn't necessarily expect him to continue with the questions when she pulls away, but isn't surprised when he does.
"Why did you decide to come to the bar that night? Why not just drink alone?" he asks with curiosity rather than any kind of judgement.
"I don't like being alone," she admits freely, the kiss clearly having soothed her as much as him.
"Maybe you don't have to be," he answers, fingers brushing back her hair and gently resting the pads on her scalp.
Regina's first impulse is to be comforted by his words and his touch, a part of her that craves it. But his meaning is clear and it causes a fear to bubble up inside her.
Robin's talking about getting help and support systems, but she's hardly listening.
She doesn't really think, just cuts him off on impulse.
"So your wife, what happened to her?"
His wife Marian was a paramedic, he tells her, who put the safety of others over herself. Their son was only two when she died helping the civilians injured in a battle between the Evil Queen and the Bandit.
He's still speaking, but it's all muted and out of focus.
She's never even heard of Marian before; the name means nothing to her. Just another bit of collateral damage in her revenge. Except to Robin and his son, to everyone else that loved Marian.
She can't imagine how Robin would feel, knowing he's been touched by hands with his wife's blood on them. That he's held those hands to comfort the woman who killed her.
"I have to go," she interrupts, bolting out of the bed, throwing on only as much clothing as necessary and stuffing everything else in her bag.
She barely makes it outside before she's throwing up.
They were all right. Cora, Leo, Gold, Mary Margaret, Emma, and Henry. All of them had seen what she'd never wanted to. Regina had tried to deny it, but there's no running from the truth now. There really is something dark inside of her that she will never escape. No matter what she does, she will always be a monster.
There's nothing for her to do but run.
There's a coffee shop across from Robin's bar. The untouched coffee she bought so she can sit at the table by the window is long cold. She took a late lunch today, one that is definitely over. But still she waits. Robin stepped outside four minutes ago. He's mostly been on his phone, though he scans the area every minute. She scans more frequently, trying to find the people he's looking for first. Her eyes pass over an older couple. She can mostly see the man, tall, grey-haired, and dark-skinned, but the woman, also grey-haired but pale, is slightly visible. Robin's eyes light up when he spots them, and only then can she see the small boy between them break free and run into his father's arms.
They look every bit the happy family, smiles on everyone's faces, all of them lingering outside to talk. But there's someone missing. A mother, daughter, wife, gone because of her.
She was supposed to wait until he was outside, sure not to see her, but she can't stay any longer. The guilt and nausea are too strong to ignore, need to be drowned along with her other demons. She needs a drink.
When she charges out of the coffee shop, she realizes her mistake. The slamming door catches Robin and his family's attention.
He calls out her name, his concern over last night obvious, but Regina pretends not to hear. If she turns around, lured by the prospect of happiness, she might not have the strength to walk away again.
She picks up her pace and reminds herself that villains don't get happy endings.