Robin busies himself checking the windows in case an escape is needed. Regina is peering underneath the door, listening and watching. If the shooters come back, they may need to escape.
But really only one person is on her mind now.
"The elementary school," Regina whispers to Robin, unable to hold back her worry, "Henry and Roland are right next door, we need to make sure they are okay."
She rushes to her phone — she didn't have it in the supply closet, but it's here in her desk drawer thank god.
She dials the elementary school without a second thought. It rings, and rings.
No one answers, and she starts to panic until Robin soothes her.
"We have no reason to believe they went after a completely separate building, Regina. And the elementary school is safer. It's a newer building. It locks up real tight. They are safe."
Regina nods, but there's something that tells her Henry is not okay, that he needs her. She can't describe what it is, but…
"I need you to stay here," Robin directs. "I'm going to try to move some wounded kids into this room. I can only do it while the shooters are preoccupied. I need you to stay here, and I need you to promise if you hear them come back you will lock the door and stay silent. That you won't come out trying to save me, or any one."
The phone is still ringing.
"I can help you," she offers. "If those kids are alive, I can't just sit here and—"
"You can. Henry needs you. He's waiting for you safe and sound. Please don't leave."
Something doesn't feel right though. But she can't argue with Robin, and she's trying to reach the elementary school. So she nods dumbly and watches Robin walk out the door, her breath catching when she realizes this might be the last time she sees him.
"Robin!" He turns, and she grabs his hand and squeezes it tightly. "Be careful. I…"
She can't say the words she wants to. They stick in her throat, frozen in panic and too much emotion.
"I will, I promise." He flashes her a quick smile, but it does nothing to lighten the gravity of the situation that weighs on both of them.
At least he's trying.
"Lock the door," he whispers.
She should, but she doesn't, instead she peels back the paper she had put over the little window on the door and watches as Robin tends to the children. It doesn't take more than a minute. She shoots a text to Henry and then Robin is back.
One student is walking normally along his side, a girl with sleek black hair that's oddly never out of place, wearing a green cable knit sweater. She recognizes the outfit, the way she walks with purpose, even without seeing her face, she knows. It's Sophie Cranston. Robin is carrying the second child in his arms. A boy, it looks like, baggy jeans and a white long sleeve tee with a black one over it. She's not sure who it is.
As soon as he gets near the door, Regina opens it and ushers them inside.
"You were supposed to lock the door!" he hisses, dropping the boy on the ground.
"Ms. Mills!" Sophie Cranston wraps her arms around her and hugs her tight, sobbing into her neck.
Sophie was never her favorite student (not her least favorite either, but Sophie is opinionated and driven, and leaned towards hard sciences over history and social studies), and Regina is not a warm, touchy-feely type of teacher. But in this moment, she finds she has the same need Sophie does to hug and hold one another. "Shh," Regina whispers, stroking her back, "We have to be quiet."
She looks down to Sophie's hands, to her jeans splotched in a reddish brown substance.
"Sophie, is that… blood?"
If she's injured, they need to try to treat it. She has… bandaids and hydrogen peroxide in her desk. Some vaccine and neosporin. Maybe some gauze.
Fuck, she should update her first aid kit.
"Not mine. Brian's. I just pretended I was shot too when Brian" — a choked sob — "when he fell down on top of me, I didn't know what to do, I just. He protected me. He's hurt bad. I thought I could help if… I took first aid, I... "
"It's okay, Sophie," Regina soothes. "You were brave. Do you have your phone on you?" Sophie sniffles out a yes and Regina whispers, "Text your mom. Tell her you are okay. She will want to hear from you.. But don't call, because we need to be quiet okay?"
She's never seen Sophie anything but calm and under control, completely together. Even now, mid-crisis, she's wearing a perfectly fitted shirt that matches the green in her eyes, her hair framing her face perfectly, cherry red lip gloss shining brightly.
Sophie takes only a second to dry her wet eyes, to breathe, to resume the stance of confidence Regina has always known Sophie to take.
"Good idea," she whispers, and then she's off with her phone.
Regina sits down next to Robin. Brian doesn't appear to be responsive.
"Shot in the gut. We need an ambulance." He presses over the wound with one of the clean cloths from the supply room. "Going to try to get a few others but…"
He doesn't finish. Regina knows.
Some of those students are likely too badly injured to move.
"I heard them say they were going to lock everyone in the assembly room," Sophie whispers her text conversation with her mother obviously caught short in favor of action. Her free hand goes to apply pressure to Brian's wound while the other holds a phone to her ear. "I'd like to report a shooting," she whispers into the phone. "It's Southwest High School, it's— you know? Okay…"
Regina isn't surprised to see the girl being so logical now. Sophie is a driven girl. Attentive, best under pressure. Maybe one of the best children to have in these situations, but still just a child.
Only a child.
She hears Sophie talking to the police again. "I know they said the exits are all secure, then they split up, some to the upper level, the rest to the gymnasium, to…"
Regina's face goes white.
She knows before she even looks at the clock.
She remembers packing Henry his gym shorts and tee shirt that morning as he grumbled that it was ping pong week at gym class and they shouldn't even need to change.
But he was excited for school that day like he always is when he gets to go to the high school with the big kids.
"Henry, god, Henry—"
"Henry's in gym class," Regina stutters. "Shit, Robin, we have to help him!"
"The elementary school is safe," Robin soothes, as if he can say for sure. But he doesn't understand.
"You idiot!" she hisses, "Their gym flooded last week, remember? They are using the…" Tears flow as she panics and walks to the door.
Because the elementary school is using the old high school gymnasium for gym class. The one in the basement of this very building.
Right where shooters are going.
Fourteen year old children getting shot at is hard enough, but eight and nine year olds, including her baby boy? That's too much for her to handle.
Robin's eyes nearly pop out of his head. He grabs her, holding her tight. "I don't hear any more gun shots, Regina. It's a hostage situation, they didn't want to shoot anyone," he whispers. "Stay here, I'm going to get him and the rest of them, okay? The little ones — I'll go get them. I'm going there now, I promise."
"I'm coming," she sobs, but Robin shakes his head.
"You have to stay. There are children who need you, and the police are coming. You need to be there for them. You need to help these students get out."
"I need to find my son!" she argues in loud whisper.
"Regina please!" he rasps back. "I can't lose you."
"I can't lose you either!" she argues as she stares daggers back at him. "You or Henry. It's not a life worth living without you two, so let me—"
"Are you even listening to me?" Robin whispers angrily, pulling her away from Sophie and Brian. "I am going to get Henry, look at me. I'm saving Henry, and I'm not going anywhere, okay? I'll be right back. You need to stay here. I'll send any kids I see here. Lock the door when I leave. Look under the door for combat boots - don't risk peering through the window, we don't want them to know you guys are here. If they come shooting at the door, or trying to get in, break a window." He walks towards Leroy's toolkit. "If you can't break a window, try to remove the window pane. You remember how I taught you that summer? But if you need to, just smash it with that hammer. I don't think the glass is very strong."
Regina nods. "But if Henry—"
"I love you, Regina," Robin whispers. "I love you, so much, I always have and I love Henry as if he's my own, you know that, don't you?"
She swallows and nods. Its too much to process but she knows he loves Henry. "Then stay and wait. Have a little faith in me."
He's gone before she can argue, grabbing a few items and pocketing them - two aerosol cans - one that juts out of his jeans almost comically, the other he's holding in his hand, some rags, and a boxcutter shoved into other pockets. Nothing she thinks will be too terribly useful against men with large weapons.
But she trusts him and she loves him, so she follows his request, and locks the door behind him as he leaves.
.::.
He isn't sure what he's doing. He certainly has no plan. But it's Henry, and some mad men with a gun, and when the life of your child is at stake you don't really take the time to plan out details.
Not that Henry is his son. He's not. He is, however, his best friend's child.
And he'd be lying if he didn't admit that he thinks of both of them as his, sometimes. It's all pretend, a fantasy that he's been living since Regina came back to town, if he's being honest. It's not really fair to Marian, given that they spent a year together while he was still in love with Regina. He shouldn't have been like that, he harbored a bit of guilt over it. Marian knew, she could sense it the whole time, accused him of having an affair, and oh how he tried to stop loving her. But good god, who could ever stop loving Regina Mills? He wouldn't even know how to try to stop.
Her son is no different. Blessed with the same addictive quality that has you craving his time, attention, has you wanting to lay down everything you have for his happiness.
And that's never been more clear now. He could never sit and wait, knowing Henry is in the hands of a gunman. He'd gladly give up his life for him.
Marian, she'd try to take care of Roland, but she can't do it, at least not alone. It's not her fault, the addiction is a disease her body can never quite kick, runs in her family, keeps rearing its ugly head as hard as she tries to stay sober. So Regina will need to be the mother poor Marian can't be. He hopes Regina knows that he's wordlessly entrusted that care to her. He should have told her — thought to, but couldn't. She wouldn't let him go alone if he even voiced the possibility he might die.
Regina probably would take on a parenting role for Roland, though, even without him saying anything. She gets him, understands him, it seems in almost every way. He's fairly certain she has no idea that he's been in love with her for years. She probably still doesn't know, even though the threat of death finally gave him the courage to say it. She probably thinks he loves her as a friend.
And that's fine. He does, after all. As her friend but also so much more than that.
It hurts, sometimes, but he has it under control. He can watch her get all dressed up for dates, helps her with outfits, even offers to watch Henry for her while she tries to get back out there. They won't ever be more than what they are. But what they are is enough on its own, best friends who live in the same neighborhood, two single parents who rely on one another and confide in one another. It doesn't matter if he doesn't get to love her the way he craves, to share a bed with her. What they have is actually better than most sexual relationships anyway.
And he hopes whenever she finds a new partner their relationship doesn't change too much.
Assuming he makes it out of this alive.
The hallway is long with few places to hide, and Robin is pleasantly surprised there are no shooters wandering the halls yet. The shooters are smart to force a big group into the auditorium. A large room, no windows, just one entrance and a fire exit easily barricaded. It's a strongly built concrete room, the one used for earthquake and tornado drills.
A perfect room to keep hostages.
He gets to the end of the hallway when he hears a radio. He's able to pop into a locker just in time. "Eddy's negotiating with the police. Telling them we will shoot the room full of kids if they come inside. Still waiting on Greg and Felix." Robin holds his breath as the man walks up the hallway towards Regina's classroom. "Hallway door still bolted shut. None of the teachers or admins decided to play hero," he chuckles. "What do we do with the kids who…you know, the ones we had to shoot? There's a few on the ground here, fuck man… I know, I know, but if the cops find out we have casualties they will be less willing to play nice…"
Robin hadn't noticed that the door on the opposite end of the hallway — the one that leads to the school entrance, the administration office and the teacher's lounge — has been closed off.
Why do those doors even exist? Fuck this old school.
The man in the hallway leaves, mumbling something about checking the fire entrances again.
And Robin pops out of the locker and makes a run for it as quietly and quickly as he can.
He passes a fallen student, who is leaning up against the side of the locker. She looks gone, but he can tell, the way she's gripping at her bloodied wound, she's alive.
Robin bends down and she flinches. "Can you make it to room 105?" he asks. She nods, trembling as he helps her up. "Quickly," he whispers.
There are some other students hiding, some peer out from behind doors and lockers when they hear Robin speaking to the wounded girl. He repeats the same thing. "Go, quickly, to room 105. Now that the coast is clear. It's safe."
"The shooter is that way!" whispers a young girl at Robin — "Don't go! I saw men with machine guns headed downstairs."
Well, not machine guns, Robin thinks. But it's not the time to correct her on what type of deadly assault rifle they are carrying.
"There are children down there," Robin says, trying to keep his voice calm. "Get safe, now, we don't have much time."
He reaches the end of the hall and turns left, the opposite of the gunman.
There's not really anywhere to hide in the stairwell. He steps as quietly as he can, checking at every corner, waiting to hear anyone.
It seems he has a stroke of luck, after all. No one is there.
But he's not quite lucky enough to find an empty gymnasium full of happy children.
He can hear the first talking in the hallway, and Robin ducks behind a trophy case to see two men in the entrance to the gym.
"I'm telling you, there are little kids here," one of the shooters says almost amused. "They are going to be the prize. Tell them for every hour we don't get our demands met, we are killing one off. That will get them to listen."
Robin winces.
There's another shooter in the gym, barking orders at children and a gym teacher that Robin can't exactly hear.
He can't quite see much from this angle, but Henry must be there. And the only entrance he can see is blocked by shooters.
His mind starts racing as he tries to think of something.
He's never been to this gym before. The one they use for sporting events — the one he suspects is used by high school gym students — is in a separate building, and it is beautiful. A donation from some sports-obsessed alumni. Thanks for that, though a donation to fix their crumbling infrastructure and outdated security would have been better. But who would have imagined something horrible would happen in Storybrooke?
He sees signs for the locker rooms and prays there's another entrance to the gym from there.
He takes a breath and ducks into the room marked Boys.
It's incredibly silent, the floor littered with boys clothes and shoes. Small sizes, small enough to make him shudder, picturing kids small enough to fit into these clothes staring down the barrel of a machine gun. He keeps moving, slowly, just in case someone is here.
"Robin?" He hears a hissing whisper.
He knows that voice.
"Henry! I'm here to help you get out of here." He spins around, but doesn't see anyone.
Until a door he had overlooked opens.
A door to a small boiler room.
Henry and five other boys are packed tightly inside, wearing gym clothes and looking so young, so innocent.
Robin lets out a breath of relief.
"Henry," he whispers, rushing towards him. The boy hugs him back tightly.
"They said they would kill whoever hid, but…" Henry whispers. "I got scared, I didn't want to go with them."
"It's okay, I'm getting you out now," Robin whispers.
They are in the basement, there's got to be a fire exit somewhere, or…
In the locker room there are several small basement windows up high.
Too small for an adult or teenager to fit through, but the perfect size for a child.
Robin looks through it and sees police sirens. Thank god.
"Henry, listen, I need you and your friends to be brave. I'm going to boost you up through that window. But I can't go with you, you need to go alone. I need you to run, run fast as soon as you get out, okay? Police are out there, they will help you."
"What about my mom?" Henry asks, "What about you ?"
"Your mum is helping people. She's safe." Robin stands on the bench underneath the small windows, trying to be as quiet as he can as he opens the window panel. It sticks, and he regrets not bringing that damned putty knife and boxcutter with him for a second, until he's able to shimmy it open. Thank god.
He grabs a small white undershirt and waves it through the window. Then waits until it catches the eye of an officer.
They don't have long, but luckily his motion catches on quick.
Eyes are on them, police can protect them.
"Okay, who is first?"
A kid by the name of Emerson volunteers. Robin boosts him up and through the window. It's a tight fit, even for a small child, but he manages to wiggle out.
Then Robin waits. He waits for that kid to run safely to the police car before he takes the next child. And then there's an police officer who manages to run right to the other side of the window to help.
"No eyes on this side for now it seems," the officer whispers. "But we don't have long. They have an auditorium full of children they claim they will fire on if we enter the building. So we gotta go fast."
Robin is only half listening as he boosts the second child through the window.
Then a third.
He is a selfish man, because he wants Henry up and out immediately, but the boy keeps assuring his friends to go ahead of him, and it is killing Robin.
Finally every child but Henry is up and out. When Robin moves to get him, Henry flinches.
"What about you?" Henry asks. "You won't fit."
"I have to go back to your mom, Henry," Robin whispers. He looks at the officer. "Room 105 is full of students who managed to escape. Some are hurt, they—"
"We know," the officer assures, waving his hand. "Still safe. Quickly, get that kid out. They see me here, they may shoot up the whole school."
"Henry," Robin pleads as the boy backs away again. "Please, I need your help. I need you to go. Your mum needs you."
"We need you too," Henry argues. "I don't want to leave you!"
"He'll be fine, son," the officer says. "Come on kid, we gotta go before you get everyone killed—"
They are interrupted by a huge explosion. Screams erupt from inside, and it's all Robin needs to scoop Henry in his arms, ignore his words of protest and squirms - things that hopefully he gunmen can't hear over the screams of other children, over the cracking and crumbling of some part of the school Robin hopes to god is not room 105.
There's gun fire. Lots of it. Round after round is firing and there's shouting and yelling and panic. He watches out the window as Henry runs with the police officer, holding his breath until he gets behind a police car, then breathes a sigh of relief. The gunfire wasn't aimed in their direction.
Robin sends a text to Regina.
Henry safe. Got out. Waiting for you outside.
He sees her typing immediately but pockets his phone. He can't read words from her right now, his heart is already too heavy. Just seeing she has it is enough to keep him going. She's alive for now, and there's gunfire, and he's got to get to her. He has to get to her, see her for himself, and there's too much chaos right now.
He peers back out of the locker room, sure he looks ridiculous holding a spray can in one hand with another bulging out of his pocket, but it's not like he has access to a gun, right?
It's a much different scene in the hallway now. Two gunmen are screaming, telling everyone to stay down.
The air smells slightly of smoke, and it makes Robin's heart race worrying about the source.
"We told you fuckers not to try to enter!" He hears a gunman scream into a phone. Robin stops, finds himself inching closer to catch the conversation.
"That is on fucking you… I'm not telling you where, but you better believe we have traps all over this fucking school, you think we planned this overnight? We know this school better than you. You will never get in here and get those kids out alive unless you give us what we want. You have twenty-three minutes before you lose the first hostage— assuming that little stunt of yours didn't cost you a few casualties. We want our money and our armored car and safe passage to Russia. Now."
The man hangs up while another young man who looks rather familiar walks over. For a second, Robin thinks he's a student. He's dressed in plain clothes, and not carrying a weapon. But then he sees the walkie talkie in his hand.
"I'm going to do a sweep of the first and second floor - check the windows up there, make sure we don't see anyone in or out."
"Good idea," the gunman says. "We need to move these kids to the auditorium. Make sure the bomb worked and there's no cops inside our space. These kids are young and they are a prize, I wouldn't worry about keeping any others. If you see any stragglers, leave them or shoot them if they seem to be trying to escape. We have enough to take hostage."
The only thing that he can think of is Regina in that classroom, a thin wooden door the only thing shielding her from gun fire.
He has to get to her. Now.
He takes an opportunity — both men have their back turned — and makes his way to the stairs. But his luck runs out.
A man is there, walking down the stairs as he goes up.
"Hey!" he screams.
He raises his gun at Robin and everything flashes before his eyes.
Then survival mode kicks in.
Wasp spray may seem like a random thing to bring along with him, but he remembered that story Will told him, how his sister had used wasp spray on a man who entered the store after hours and nearly blinded him. Will said it's sharper, easier to aim than pepper spray. And if accidentally shot in the eyes, blinding.
Robin has never used wasp spray before, and this is a hell of a first try.
He aims and presses the trigger.
It comes out in a steady stream, is enough to have the man closing his eyes and pausing for just long enough for Robin to get close enough to wrestle the gun out of his hands.
It's a struggle, it's loud, but there's chaos elsewhere now, more gunfire, and it's just enough to drown out his startled cry before Robin grabs the gun from his hands and is able to slam the butt of it as hard as he can against the man's temple.
He goes down hard, sliding down the stairs, seemingly unconscious, but Robin can't say for sure. He is too busy trying to understand the gun in his hand, which appears to be some AR-15 styled rifle.
He walks up the stairs with a bit more confidence. Though to be honest, he's not sure he knows how to fire this weapon, so hopefully holding it is deterrent enough.
And if not, hopefully arcades and carnival games have taught him well enough to aim this thing.
He hears footsteps behind him, rushing up the stairs. He needs a distraction.
So he takes the can of bug spray he had stolen and wraps it in the rags he had and lights the rags on fire with his little lighter, then tosses it down the opposite direction of Regina's class. If it doesn't blow at least it makes a loud sound and the people behind him may think he's going that way.
He's only a few steps from the hallway of Regina's room before the chaos starts.
"Some people are trying to escape!" he hears, and his only thought is Regina.
Regina, god he hopes she didn't try to run after hearing the explosion, god let her be okay.
There's gun fire coming from somewhere, he's not sure where, but he thinks it's from above, but he can't process a thing, everything is a blur, the only thought is Regina , Regina, Regina.
She has to be safe.
She fucking has to be.
That couldn't have been the last time he saw her.
It wouldn't be fair.
He rounds the corner just in time to see one of the men near Regina's door, whispering something into a walkie talkie.
He's right in front of Regina's door. And something just snaps, a blind rage, bottled up anger at the fact these men are attacking children, terrifying them, shooting them, killing them, all for some half-baked scheme to get rich.
"Get the fuck away from there!" Robin screams, holding his gun up.
"Oh shit!" The gunman immediately throws his hands up.
"Take it easy, man, I'm not doing anything," the guy defends, backing away from the door.
"You are shooting at children," Robin corrects, "Don't tell me you aren't doing anything."
"I didn't shoot anyone. I'm just along for the ride, okay? And I'm putting my gun down now."
The gun is on a strap on his shoulder and he makes a move toward it, but Robin balks.
"Slowly," he warns, praying he looks convincing holding the gun, hoping he knows how to use it. "Empty the bullets. Take it off and slide it over to me."
"Alright," the shooter says. "Really slow…" He removes his gun, unloads it, takes out the clip and empties it, slides it away, the entire time, his eyes fixated on Robin.
Then his focus shifts to somewhere off in the distance. Somewhere behind Robin.
It's a quick glance, only a second before Robin catches on, but it's just a split second too late.
Robin spins around in time to find another man midfire, gun aimed at him.
Robin aims himself and pulls the trigger, holding his breath, hoping it fires back.
It does.
But not before a bullet hits Robin hard in the side, another in his thigh maybe, but adrenaline is high and the wound in his middle burns so fiercely he can't be sure where else he is hit.
But he shot the man who fired at him, that's clear, the man goes down, and Robin is unsure where he's hit, but from across the long hall he can see blood pooling.
And then he's tackled from behind.
The man he told to remove his gun has it now, but thank god Robin had the good sense to tell him to unload, or he'd be dead.
Except the man is grabbing at Robin's gun now, while his other hand is around his neck, strangling him, and Robin is weak, and wounded, and losing blood and oxygen fast.
It's over for him, he realizes, but if he gives up this gun, it may be over for Regina. And that's what keeps him fighting, will keep him fighting until he can't anymore.