A/N: Hi there, I know it's been awhile since I updated and I apologize for that but with life and, you know, the whole Robin dying bit, (and the emotionally draining chapters that are coming up in this story) it just made writing more stressful and less fun and that's not what I really want.
But anyway, I'm back. So, this chapter is split into two because I realized A LOT was going on with this chapter (mostly, because it spans a couple of weeks rather than the one or two days a chapter usually covers) and I felt like it was too much to pile on you guys at once. Part II, will be up as soon as I get it finished, but I wanted to go ahead and give you guys Part I. So, enjoy, let me know what ya think, etc. etc.
She feels like an idiot. The only problem is she doesn't know what makes her feel more like an idiot.
How could she have been stupid enough to let herself get hurt by two different people in one day?
Regina can feel that dull throb begin behind her eyes—her least favorite place to get headaches, because it's the most telling of the headaches. It means several things, that she's tired, she's been crying too much, and that she is still genuinely upset about something. Oddly—or maybe not so much anymore—Robin is the first to come to mind. It should be Graham. She should have this overbearing sadness over the loss of her relationship with Graham, but, right now, her mourning is directed at Robin.
It'd been over with Graham, she'd known that already. She was even planning to end things with him and when Robin kissed her that had all but sealed the deal for her. But now it's messy and she doesn't know why.
This was her chance. The universe was giving her a Get Out of Jail Free card but she didn't want to take it. Instead, she wants to get angry. She wants to throw things and she wants Graham to know that she knows what a complete and total asshole he is.
But she's just as bad as he is. She has nothing to be angry with him for. And yet, she can't stop the rage that sets a fire on her skin every time she remembers everything that's happened. She technically still has a right to be angry, right? He still cheated, so she still gets to be angry. Besides, her kiss with Robin was just that, a kiss. She has no misconceptions that Emma and Graham were knocking hips. Nevermind that she could have very well have had sex with Robin had Emma Swan not interrupted, but it didn't happen and that's all that matters… right?
Regina doesn't need an answer to that. The intentions are what matter, and she's just as guilty as Graham. But he doesn't need to know any of that. She still has a right to be angry, and he does, too, but he doesn't know that he has the privilege. Their misdeeds don't cancel each other out. It won't vindicate either of them. They still wronged one another and they still have the right to be angry.
So she's going to be angry, dammit.
And she is. She's blood-boiling angry. Her apartment walls have been stained with the red she only sees and her eyes sting with the tears that she finally succumbs to. She loathes crying, but honestly, she'd rather do it now than in front of Graham.
She studies the door, realizing she hasn't taken her eyes from it since Robin walked out of it. Her eyes shift back and forth, as if she's trying to add something up in her head, which she really is trying to do. She's trying to calculate how she could've been so blind to not see the truth about Graham; how she could've been so naïve to believe that she could trust someone or anyone.
She should've known. Life is too easily unfair.
Her hands feel rough against her face as she scrubs and scrubs at the tears, at the red tinted skin that betrays her. This is not fair. It's not fair.
"Pull yourself together, Regina," she snaps at herself.
She needs to move. She needs to start thinking about what she's going to say to Graham. Robin needs to be put on the back burner for now. But she longs for those soft, blue eyes that pleaded with her to let him stay. Now is not the time, though. She can handle Robin later; she wants to handle Robin later. Right now, she needs dry up her tears and then go formally hand Graham his ass.
She can handle this. She's used to taping back the pieces of her life. She'd done it plenty of times when she was younger when Cora tried to ruin anything. Then again, back in Phoenix, she had people in her corner, namely her father. Henry had always been there when she needed him, especially when Cora tried to belittle or demean Regina.
Sometimes Regina and her mother would get in all out screaming matches about her life and Cora would find any way possible to find something wrong with it and demand Regina change it. And it always ended the same, with Cora getting the last word, no matter what, and Regina outside riding Rocinante around the track to get the rest of her anger out of her system.
True to tradition, as well, was Henry's unwavering support behind Regina. He might've always been quiet during Cora and Regina's showdowns, and often in the presence of Cora anyway, but he never failed to be there for Regina. He was always waiting outside the ring to tend to her and he'd put an arm around her, reminding her that it would get better one day. And he'd always finish it with the saying he said to her everyday up until when he died, "Se fuerte, Regina."
She'd always clung so tightly to those three little words when she was younger. She even got it tattooed on her left shoulder when she was 20. And she'd put them there to always carry her father's words with her because she always wanted to be reminded that he believed in her and there was a reason for it, but also, because those words could carry on through the rest of her life, reminding her to be brave even when everything is going wrong. They are there for days like today.
Regina doesn't resist the urge to touch her shoulder and look upwards. After a moment, she collects herself and marches to the bathroom to wash her face and get ready to go to Graham's. All the while, she quietly repeats to herself, "Se fuerte, Regina."
[:]
It's just past 7:30 when she shows up at Graham's door, lingering in the putrid smelling hallway and reminiscing on her first encounter with Robin.
She has to stop thinking about him and focus on the problem at hand but every time she tries, something else about him comes up. Her mind is elsewhere, chasing after dreams of her and Robin, while her hands take on a mind of their own and knock on Graham's hollow front door.
She wonders, just before Graham opens the door, what would've happened if everything had changed at their first meeting. What if she'd resolved herself to finding Robin attractive and let him make his move on her? What if the last few weeks she'd been trying to warm Robin's bed rather than Graham's?
Her heart knocks hard against her chest, thinking about literally warming Robin's bed. Why is she here? She should be after Robin, telling him that it doesn't matter what happened with Graham, that she wants to be with him, and then figure out the Graham stuff later. But it's too late, she's made her choice.
The door creaks open, revealing Graham in her favorite indigo button-up, with a smile that could light up the New Mexico sky. For a brief second, she forgets why she's there. Her thoughts finally abandon Robin long enough to remember how much she misses about Graham. Maybe it's because she hasn't seen him like this in so long that it was easy to forget all the good things they had. It was easier to fall under Robin's spell and let herself run away. But now that she stands in front of Graham, she can feel her ribs curl around her heart and wring it like a dirty rag. The tears, she thought she'd ridded herself of earlier, make a new threat in the backs of her eyes. This is not how this was supposed to go.
"Hello, beautiful," Graham greets her obliviously.
He bends downward to kiss her cheek and she allows it, leaning to make it more comfortable. Then, she's covered in warmth as his arms circle around to her back and pull her close to his chest. Her arms stay glued to her side, while his tighten around her. Suddenly, he's the overbearing, difficult Graham that she's often seen lately.
She squirms a little and he gets the idea to let her go.
When he looks at her expectantly, she figures he must be waiting for her excitement to see him, but she feels nothing except the boulder of anger and guilt resting in the pit of her stomach. She should just slap him and leave and save herself all the heartbreak she'll inevitably feel if they fight about it. But she wants to hear the truth from Graham. She wants to hear him say that he betrayed her.
Which means, she has to play the part and bide her time until she can sink him. She twists her face then into the best smile she can muster and finally answers him, "Hi."
That's the password that allows her entrance. His arm swoops down and across and extends through the doorway, inviting her inside.
The apartment smells strongly of cooked olive oil and herbs. She hopes he hasn't cooked pasta again because she doesn't feel that she could stomach it. She needs something light and fresh, something that will make her feel more clean and not add to the mass that is currently taking up the majority of her lower abdomen. But, it still smells nice, especially when she gets that sniff of mint and lemon that eventually wafts her way.
"Something smells nice," she notes, as he helps her peel out of her ratty jean jacket.
"Caprese chicken," he tells her, "and a small lemon garlic kale salad."
Damn, that does sound good.
She was planning to quickly inform Graham of what she knows and then bail. At least, then she can save face and she doesn't have to drag it out longer than necessary. But as they near the source of the smell, her mind starts to change, or her stomach does the thinking. Her heart follows suit, not long afterward, upon seeing Graham's small round table donning a cloth and a single burning candle. The silverware is set out neatly and there is a wine bottle (the Coppola cabernet, one of her favorites) chilling in a bucket of ice. It looks like a picturesque date and it makes Regina's chest painfully clench up again, hard enough to have her reach for it this time.
She should just put them out of their misery now, but she's starving and everything looks so perfect. What's wrong with wanting to be spoiled for just a little while longer? Besides, Graham is the one who will suffer, not her. Or, at least, that's what she's going to tell herself.
As he guides her to her chair, she laughs. "How long did you spend on Google to find that?"
He pulls her chair out and waits for her to settle before pushing it in back toward the table. "That Pinterest thing you like so much actually can be useful."
She chuckles and smoothes down the tablecloth. Her throat tightens when her brain catches up to the sound of her laughter. It's completely genuine and it makes Regina ache all over this time. She thought that she would be fine. She believed that this would be a smooth transition, an easy break. But for the past few minutes, she'd started mentally compiling a list of reasons not to leave. She wants to fight them. She wants to be strong and give it to him straight but each passing second comprises another reason to stay.
And her heart has to suffer.
She knows that she needs to lay down the law but her nerve is not there, so she simply fidgets in her chair, while he smiles sweetly and pours the cabernet—thank God for the wine—at least, if all else fails, she can get miserably drunk.
After they start eating, Graham lets out a moan and comments on how delicious the chicken is. She must be notably quiet, though, because he follows with asking if she's alright, to which she answers mindlessly that she's fine, just thinking.
When he returns to eating, he's still covered in concern and it actually ignites her ire a little bit. How dare he even get the right to act as if he's concern when he's the entire reason she's troubled in the first place—well, there is that other thing, but she's resolved to put that in the back of her mind for now. She needs to finish her business with Graham first.
It makes Regina wonder when everyone around her started becoming a checklist. Dealt with Graham? Check. Dealt with Robin? Next. Mother? God, the last thing she wants to think about now is her mother. And yet, Cora has slithered through the cracks once more like the snake she is. And Regina's thoughts follow her right back down the rabbit hole she came from, wondering where Cora is and if she's okay, or if she's passed yet—no, Mal would call if that'd happened—and it makes her fret a little bit. Her neck dampens slightly and tingles move along her spine. She can feel the full on panic coming.
"Hey," Graham whispers tenderly, reaching for her hand to ground her back to reality. "Where are you?"
She pauses, then grumbles something that sounds like, "Wonderland."
The creases in Graham's forehead deepen and his eyebrows marry. "You okay?"
No. No, she's not okay. But she doesn't have the nerve to say it yet. It lingers on her tongue, that bite, that seething anger, but it won't push forward enough to just say what's on her mind. She's not sure why she stalls but no matter how much she just wants to snap back that, "she's not okay because he's screwing someone else," her own body betrays her.
"I'm fine," she mutters bitterly to herself, but loud enough that he can hear.
He doesn't buy it, tipping his head sideways to scan her. "I'm worried about you," he tells her.
"Why?"
"Because you called yesterday and sounded like somebody had died and today you still look the same, so I'm worried. What's wrong, Regina? What's going on?"
The comment about someone dying gets to her. She creates two concurrent images in her head at once. The first is of her mother lying in a hospital bed, looking pale and pitiful. Her skin is this frightening alabaster color with a tint of blue just beneath the surface, and it is shriveled and dried, manifesting death in its folds. The whites of her eyes have gone all red and her lips are thin, dried and cracked. Regina can even distinctly hear the sound of her coughing.
The second is of Graham taking Emma Swan by the hand and guiding her toward the bed with a surreptitious and smug smile resting against his features. Regina envisions his hands trailing up the blonde's body—his fingers trace her silhouette, just as he'd once done to Regina. And those two images somehow unlock Pandora's box together. Her anger rages a little thicker and she finds that conviction she'd been longing for.
She takes a deep breath through her nostrils and sighs out, "Lots of things are wrong Graham."
"Okay… so tell me. You've got to talk to me, Regina," he patronizes and it only annoys her more.
She sets her fork down and glances bitterly at her salad. Her eyes follow around the circle of tiny mozzarella slices. She counts them. One… two… three… However, the counting doesn't soothe her. Her anger will consume her one way or another. But then, she starts laughing, and it startles them both. She hates the sound because it is sour and dark, lacking the poise she'd spent so long trying to build up. It echoes her frustration and bares the necrotizing parts of her feelings. She really hates Graham. And she hates her mother. And she hates Robin and Emma Swan and everyone who led her to this mess. But most of all she hates herself for walking blindly into it.
She'd spent her entire life trying to run away from messes, settling for the occasional petty office drama—that she can handle, but not this convoluted mix of issues that have begun to overlap and consume the majority of her life. Phoenix had been enough drama to last her a lifetime, but this new mire is borderline unnecessary—a cruel joke set up by he universe to test her. Maybe that's why she finds it so funny. After all, the fact that she cannot seem to escape drama to save her life is rather hysterical.
When she's able to control her laughter, she answers him, "I don't know, Graham, where would you like to start?"
He looks puzzled but she continues.
Her anger just bubbles up out of her and she cannot stop it. "How about we start with the fact that yes, yesterday I called because someone is dying. My mother called yesterday to inform me that she has terminal cancer—" her voice cracks slightly "—and has roughly six months to live. And I was upset because that bitch has the audacity to call me and want to 'make amends,'" she spits those words as if they were venom, "after ruining my entire life. She thinks that I'm going to just fly all the way over there because what—I'm supposed to feel sorry for her now?—screw that! Why should I? She never cared about me. She never loved me. But still, I feel awful anyway and I pity her anyway because she is still my mother after all. And despite everything, I still love her. And now I'm going through all these emotions by myself because I can't count on anyone! I have no one."
She takes a moment to swallow more tears that threaten to surface and it's just a big enough window to let him talk.
"Regina, I'm sorry if I had known—"
She barks another cold, short laugh to cut him off. "You would've what? Stopped fucking Emma Swan long enough to come to my rescue?"
The whole of the room changes after she says it. The air tightens, any extraneous sound has silenced itself and Graham sits before her dumbfounded. He leans forward, then backward, and looks as if he's trying to come up with something.
But all he manages to say is the one thing she doesn't think she'd hear him say first. "I'm sorry," he murmurs quietly.
She's taken aback but it doesn't take much for her to recollect herself. "Sorry, you did it or sorry you got caught, Graham?" she accuses.
He refuses to glance upward to look her in the eye but her eyes are deadlocked on him, daring him to face her. He remains adamant, though, fixated on his lap. His fingers nip at the tablecloth and she assumes he's waiting for her to start yelling, but she realizes she doesn't have much to say. What's done is done. No amount of screaming or crying is going to take back the fact that he slept with another woman, nor will it absolve Regina of her kiss with Robin. They've committed their sins and now they have to journey through their lives with it.
She just sits there and stares at him and wonders how something that started off so fun and flirtatious disintegrated into something so poisoned and rotten. Even though she'd meant to keep it simple and detached, somewhere along the way, Regina started expecting more for herself, and that only led to her feelings getting hurt. Deep down, she rather liked the idea of getting serious with Graham, but she should've seen their relationship unraveling at the seams. And now there's Robin and that was messed up from the get go. Maybe that was for the best, though—her relationship with Robin not even getting the chance to leave the ground.
God, that was such an awful mistake. She shouldn't have kissed him. She should never have kissed him. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Graham is still distastefully quiet and the silence of the whole room weighs on Regina's every limb. And she doesn't really know how to put an end to it. Should she just get up and leave? Should she just wait for him to say something? But what's there left to say?
Regina lays both palms flat against the table and begins to hoist herself out of her chair. It's time to put them both out of their misery.
But Graham stands, too, saying, "Wait."
Regina stops mid-stand and finds an apologetic and pathetic looking Graham finally meeting her eye. She can feel that tickle of pity for him skitter across her chest, just briefly, before he makes the mistake of opening his mouth again.
"How did you find out?" he inquires, the worry only deepening on his face.
Weirdly, Regina feels a sudden spell of protection over Emma Swan. She could easily sell her out to Graham—it's not like she doesn't deserve it—but for some reason, Regina feels herself hesitate. Emma has been nothing but a thorn in her side for the short time that they've known each other, but even Regina knows that Emma is a misguided young girl, who stupidly followed her heart, much like Regina, and they just both happened to be led to the same man. That doesn't necessarily mean that Regina forgives her, but at least, Emma had the decency to tell the truth, and to Regina's face, no less. Plus, what happens now between Graham and Emma is their business. Secretly, Regina hopes for the young blonde that she will gain some self-respect and leave Graham, but again, it's not her business, and she's not about to make it her business either.
She sighs heavily, "Why does that matter Graham? It's not like someone telling me the truth is going to misplace any of your guilt."
He goes to say something, but she cuts him off, "You made your choices. I found out about it. End of story. But, maybe, don't choose a place that our mutual friends frequent to take your bit on the side. Or, I don't know, maybe don't have a bit on the side, but…" She shrugs grandiosely.
Graham looks stumped, unable to respond aside from nonsensical chunks of sounds that don't make any real words.
Regina knows she needs to put an end to it once and for all. It's over anyway. They've done what they had to and they've said what they need to, all that's left is to say goodbye.
It feels like a fist has clutched onto her chest and bunched it, as if it were a piece of cloth. This should be easy, walking away, but it still hurts her just enough, anyway. She can feel that fist tug her backward, as she turns away from Graham and heads toward the door, but she fights against it hard. It feels just like swimming against a current, but this current can't weigh her down. She won't be weak and she snorts as the thought of 'Did I finally make you proud, Mother?' floats into her head.
"Regina," Graham calls after her again and she stops, but doesn't turn. "I really am sorry I hurt you. It's just you've been so distant lately and now I know why and not that I'm blaming you but I just felt alone and I acted out and I shouldn't have and I'm sorry. We were drunk and I was upset at the way we left things and Emma was there and—and—"
Regina can feel another surge of anger. She didn't need the details and she certainly didn't want them. Suddenly, it's made it all real. Graham cheated on her. She's never going to see him again after this moment unless fate's twisted sense of humor gets a go at them. This is really the end. This is the end of a chapter in her life and the segue into the next. Goodbye, Graham. Hello, whatever is coming.
Regina notices her fists are clenched and quickly relaxes her hands, then turns to calmly respond. "Shit happens, Graham. You screw up sometimes and there's nothing you can do about it. All you can do is accept it, learn to live with it, and maybe even, learn from it." She feels another urge to rise and defend Emma, so she continues with, "So, don't do the same thing to her. We can yell and scream and try and work this through or we can just cut our losses and learn from it."
"There's no fixing this, then?" he pouts somberly.
"No," she answers without skipping a beat, "there is no fixing this."
"I'm sorry," he says again, peeping downward at his toes.
"I know," she murmurs softly, "Me too."
That's it. That's her last line, the cue for her exit. She takes one final glance over Graham, mourning the memories that she's laying to rest with him, and then, makes her way to the door, shuffling out quietly and closing the door, and this chapter, behind her.
[:]
She realizes her chest feels extremely heavy when she returns to her apartment. She tries to expel some of the weight with a deep exhale, as she falls onto the inside of her door. Her eyes venture across the room, taking in the stale atmosphere left behind from her sweet moment with Robin and her less than sweet moment with Emma Swan. Eventually, they find a few droplets of blood resting on the floor. Explaining that to Mr. Poseidon, her Super, will certainly be fun—that means Regina won't be having Suly over any time soon. More importantly, it reminds her, as she lifts her left foot and curls her finger inside the heel of her shoe to rip it off, that she still has to clean up the glass she left on the kitchen floor.
But she lingers on the door for a moment longer, staring down the couch where she nursed Robin's foot. She has an itch to follow up on that and make sure his foot is okay, but she knows that's just jumping right back down the rabbit hole. She needs to pull it together, focus on something else, anything else.
She could delve deeper into work but she already has her lesson plans written for August and the majority of September. David gave her an early peek at district plans before anyone else. She doesn't know why he's so nice to her—she assumes it's probably under Mary Margaret's influence, because David's wife has always seemed to have an affinity for quietly caring about Regina, which is not something that's wanted, but is nevertheless received anyway. Then again, it has its perks, like the early peeks and the occasional crumb of inside information.
Either way, it puts Regina two months ahead of schedule. She could finish her September plans, she supposes, but what she really needs is a hobby, something fun that eats away at a lot of her time. Except, the only thing she really likes to do, outside of work, is reading, and while she just finished the Outlander series, she wants to soak it all in before picking up a new series.
She could try television, but most of them end up being predictable and/or outrageous. She could pick up baking, but what good would that do with no one around to eat it? What are the odds that she could make Robin muffin baskets and still make him believe it's for no other reason than preoccupation—and definitely not for sex?
She has to stop this.
She forcefully sends her head backward into the door and immediately regrets it, but knows deep down, it's well deserved.
Maybe she should just pick up sewing and knit sweaters and blankets for the less fortunate children in her classroom. She quickly thinks of Henry, who doesn't come in looking filthy like some children she's had before, but she has noticed that he only has about four total outfits and will sometimes wear the same shirt back to back. It's baffling to her, truly. She doesn't understand how there are people in the world who purposefully take on the role of caregiver, only to do everything but caregiving.
From what Regina has gotten to know of Zelena West, she assumes the woman is in it simply for the money, but it doesn't ease the burden on Regina's heart. How can people be so selfish, that they use an innocent child (and, in this case, two) just to profit off of them? Children should never go through life feeling unwanted. Cora had never impressed such a message on Regina, but thankfully her father had. He'd always made sure Regina felt loved, wanted, safe and secure and that is a legacy she wants to continue until the end of her days.
That's where she needs to focus her attention. She needs to just concentrate on making sure her students are getting all the love and assistance they need. And she plans to start with Henry Cassidy. She won't let him fall through the cracks like the system has tried to let him. He's already a grade behind, with an attitude problem (not that she really blames him for having it) and a feeble desire to make friends. She's got to give him that push he needs to become a better student and a better person.
She nods proudly to herself as she mentally reviews her plan and then quickly compares it to any of the other horrendous ideas she'd had when she first came home. Then she gives herself another confirmatory nod and launches herself finally off the door. Her fingers nick the heels off of the floor and she walks over to the couch to pick up the bandages and antiseptic, to take them all back to her room. And when she completes that task, she decides she wants to clean altogether.
Cleaning always makes her feel better. It's like scrubbing at dirt and grime also scrubs away at her stressors and insecurities. Yes, cleaning is what she needs, now. Even if it is getting close to 9.
She starts in the bathroom, scrubbing the sink, toilet and shower. Her phone has been pulled out and she's opened up her cleaning playlist, which usually involves a lot of dance moves to be incorporated in her chores. She scrubs and sweeps and even mops every inch of the bathroom. Then, it's out to her room, where she also sweeps and mops. Her bed gets remade properly. Her drawers get cleaned out some more and she even throws away the wilting flowers. The dressers get dusted and the miscellaneous items atop them are organized. She straightens her shoes in the bottom of her closet, as well.
Then she moves to the living room and tidies every inch she can find, especially making sure any trace of Robin's blood has been removed as best as it can be. It's not even noticeable by the time she gets it out of the hardwood foyer and scrubs hard at the three little droplets on the carpet, right next to the couch.
All that's left is the kitchen, which, besides the bathroom, is going to need the most work anyway. She dances her way to the entrance of the kitchen, but she comes to a complete stop, when she sees what's inside. Her eye almost immediately spots the bags of food that are resting on the counter. It stutters the rhythm of her heart in her chest as she realizes where they came from. She certainly hadn't picked it up, which means there is only one other person who could have brought that food to her apartment.
She figures that he must have done it while she was sleeping. He went out of his way to surprise her with food. The seed of a small smile is planted on her lips and it blooms rather quickly, as the sentiment registers. Robin really cares for her. Maybe, she's misjudged him. He was telling the truth yesterday when he said that he only wants to take care of her and remind her that she deserves to be happy. So, he had a brief, selfish moment of weakness—can she really begrudge him that? Their chemistry is undeniable and his care is unwavering.
Oh, screw this.
She unlocks her phone and goes straight to her call log to find Robin's name. But before she can get there, she spies Mal's name and she is reminded of Phoenix again. Her mind erases all her romanticized thoughts of Robin and replaces them with images of sick Cora, much like the ones she'd imagined up earlier at diner with Graham.
Her life is in shambles. And starting a new relationship isn't going to fix that. She's spent the better part of the last couple of hours dancing out those frustrations and reminding herself that she is capable of handling this mess she's gotten herself into. She'd convinced herself to abstain from dating and focus on work, especially on the children. That can't change just because she's found two bags of greasy fast food. Besides, if she really does care for Robin, or even just respects how much he cares for her, then she knows that bringing him into a relationship with her now is unfair. She needs to get her own shit together before she can pile it onto someone else.
However, that doesn't stop Regina from still considering making the call. She impatiently taps her, now relocked, screen with her nail, slamming her thumb down harder each time, and chews hard enough on her lip to nearly draw blood.
It's a bad decision that will only lead to poorer consequences, but she wants to hear his voice and she's already resolved herself to no dating. But that doesn't mean they can't be friends.
They can be friends, right?
Oh, what the hell? She re-unlocks her phone and clicks his contact without a second thought. The phone rings and rings. She hadn't even considered that maybe he doesn't want to speak to her. Not that he really has a right to feel that way. He did betray her trust.
Her eyes dart over to his picture on the refrigerator and she analyzes the shaky sketch lines, just as she's done before. It really isn't even that good of a drawing but it's still the sentiment that makes her happy. She tips her head sideways and admires it blissfully, but it's cut short by Robin's voicemail.
"Hey, you got Robin. Sorry I missed your call. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks."
She doesn't even bother trying to prevent her wistful sigh that slips out. Her bottom lip pokes out just slightly and she feels the need to physically kick herself in accompaniment to her mental kicking. Honestly, what was she expecting, anyway? She threw him out of her apartment this afternoon, and she expects him to just come running back with open arms the moment she calls?
Regina begrudgingly sits her phone on the counter and reaches for the broom and dustpan, resting on the wall outside of the kitchen. She might as well get back to cleaning. She hits play on her phone and the kitchen is once again filled with music. September comes on and before she knows it, she's back in her own groove, pushing thoughts of Robin away, and constantly using her broom as a microphone. Her neighbors probably don't appreciate it, but if they knew what a cleanse she needs they'd probably join her. So, she yells the lyrics and prances around while sweeping the glass and dirt into a pile.
She tries not to think on how the wine glass ended up in shards on the floor, but the memory is perseverant.
She was a little tipsy already from her outing with the girls. They'd grabbed a quick bite to eat at a diner and then went to the bar for a few drinks. They—or well, Regina, at least—insisted that they go somewhere other than the Rabbit Hole. She didn't want Robin to think that she was stalking him. She didn't tell her friends that, but they obliged her request anyway and they went over to The Tavern, an Irish-based pub.
It was small and quaint and looked modernly medieval inside. Everything was wooden—the bar top, the pillars, the tables and the stools. And there were mostly hefty, bearded men inside yelling at the television that had some soccer (or "football") game on. Tinka was the one who'd suggested it, telling them that she and Killian actually frequented it a lot. Regina actually liked it. It gave off a different vibe than the Rabbit Hole and she felt better there—less weighed down by alcohol and sleazy men, even though The Tavern was crawling with both, but it wasn't as overwhelming. Regina's favorite part, though, was their house ale, which tasted almost carmel-ly and sweet, but still maintained the bitter taste of beer just beneath the surface. She drank three of them, letting the alcohol lick at her wounds. Tinka had two and Kathryn had a half of one. Regina had tried to keep her pity party going as long as possible, but they'd cut her off at three, reminding her that they had to work tomorrow. That'd only made her upset and she was ornery from that point on, and it wasn't long afterward that Kathryn decided to take her home.
When they returned to the apartment, her friend had invited herself inside and Regina didn't really care. She just plopped down on the sofa and ignored Kathryn's presence. But if there's one outstanding trait that that Kathryn Midas ever had, it was being stubborn, so she'd waited patiently for Regina to say something. Unfortunately for Kathryn, however, that was a trait they had in common.
Kathryn had caved first. "What's gotten into you, Regina?"
Regina remembers taking a very heavy (and unnecessary) offense to that. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Kathryn had that patronizing look on her face that always got under Regina's skin. Nevermind that there was worry all over Kathryn's face, as well, but she chose to ignore it to stoke her own fire.
"I just—this isn't like you, Regina. And I can tell something is bothering y—"
"Nothing is bothering me!" she'd cut her off loudly.
"Bullshit, Regina," Kathryn fired back at equal volume. She usually isn't one to curse a lot. Crap and shoot are her favorite words, but Regina has hardly ever heard actual curse words come out of Kathryn's mouth, which is why she was thrown for a loop and gave just enough space in the conversation to allow Kathryn to continue on her rant.
"You've been in a sour mood for awhile, which is usually not atypical for you, seeing as you are in a perpetual bad mood 24/7, but lately you've been in an extra bad mood. I noticed it today and I've noticed it a few other days, too. Something is genuinely wrong and I don't really give a crap if you haven't noticed, but the rest of us have and I'm worried about you, Regina.
"This," she'd waved her hand up and down to demonstrate, "is not you. You don't go get drunk on school nights, you don't take phone calls in the middle of the school day and then return looking like the Grim Reaper chewed you up and spit you out again, and you surely don't yell at me. Sure, I can take your biting sarcasm, but tonight has been nothing but snapping and nasty digs for no reason. I don't know what's wrong, but Regina whatever it is, it's affecting you, and we can all see it. Just tell me what's wrong and we can work it out together, okay?"
Regina was hearing what her friend said, but all she could think about was how Robin had said nearly the same thing that afternoon, but claimed Kathryn was incapable of such a thing. It almost made her laugh. If only Kathryn knew that she'd given a whole speech just proving some self-righteous ass wrong.
Deep down, Regina knew that train of thought was only to disguise that it actually touched her that she had two people in her camp, two people who she could lean on… two people she could disappoint. And that was like a switch inside of her getting flipped on. She was so close to confessing the truth to Kathryn. She'd nearly yielded and purged everything about Phoenix and her dying mother and Graham's distance, but when she realized that Kathryn was one of the only two people in the world she couldn't bear having look at her differently, she stopped and her defenses went up.
Perhaps, that's why she'd kicked Robin out, too. Not because he'd betrayed her, but because she was afraid of how he'd change his mind after he knew the truth.
She'd gotten up from the couch and sauntered past Kathryn to walk toward the kitchen, where she grabbed a bottle of wine and a glass and began pouring it. Regina wasn't even planning to drink it. She'd had enough alcohol, that much she could admit to herself. And honestly, she had recognized that her drinking habits had upped a bit—and her metabolism isn't what it used to be. But she poured the glass, anyway, keeping her eyes locked on Kathryn's as she did it.
That's when she saw it, a flicker of the look she was trying to avoid. It flew across Kathryn's features just briefly but long enough for Regina to catch it and feel the sting of it. Her friend, then, shook her head and turned to leave.
But Kathryn had stopped just short of the door to turn back to Regina and remind her, "I really care about you, Regina. So do Ti and Ariel and Belle and Rory. Don't lose sight of that, okay? Sleep it off and we'll talk tomorrow or something." Then she was gone.
The next thing Regina heard was the shatter of glass on tile.
Regina is so preoccupied with her self-loathing over the Kathryn thing that she tunes out the music and subsequently when it stops in order to vibrate against the counter. It slides and slides closer to the edge as she sweeps the glass into the dustpan and tunes into the tinkle of the shards colliding. But, she's fortunate to rise from her crouching position just before the phone reaches the brink of the counter.
"Whoa," she yelps and throws out her hand to grab it as it makes its descent. That attunes her to the silence—or lack thereof, as the music begins once again when the phone lands in her palm. But the screen is occupied by the tell of Robin's missed call. The disheartened burden on her chest eases in favor of a newly found elation. But even the excitement is tinted with worry. Should she call him back? What if he only accidentally called back? Or what if he only called back as a formality?
She's reading too much into this. She should just call back and if he answers cordially, then she'll make up some butt dialing excuse or something. If he seems more receptive to the phone call, then she'll simply go with her original plan. Her phone zips back to redialing and her phone begins to ring.
But when the line is picked up, Robin doesn't speak. Typical.
She supposes the responsibility is up to her. "Uh, hi," she says quietly into the receiver as she backs into the counter.
His voice is equally as soft when he returns a gentle, "Hi."
There's silence for a beat before Regina decides to go with her original plan. She glances over at the bags of food, counting the grease spots on the side that she can see. The tickle of a fake laugh starts in her throat but she coughs it back down but tries to hold onto the biting wit that was going to come with it.
"It looks as if you accidentally left two bags of grease in my house," she tries her best to sound teasing, even adding in that fake laugh she'd fought against milliseconds before.
"Yes, well, I figured that you could use the grease to get the twig that's up your arse out." It isn't accusatory or spiteful, the way he says it—it's a joke, which she's incredibly grateful for at the moment. She could use a tension relaxer.
"Is that right?"
"Mhm," he hums his answer.
"Who says chivalry is dead?" she laughs.
"I rather like going against the flow."
"I don't doubt that," she tints the statement with a little disdain.
His breathy chuckle precedes another awkward silence. And that flicker of pain in her chest, that she thought she'd ridded herself of at Graham's, reignites. It gets heavier and anchors her to where she stands, as she waits in agonizing anticipation for Robin's next comment.
She considers telling him that he's forgiven. Honestly, she wasn't even that angry in the first place. Well, she was, but most of it wasn't even directed at Robin. Most of it was for Graham and Emma Swan, then a little bit for herself and then a smidge for Robin. But even that sliver of anger has whittled itself down into almost nothing. She's only being stubborn at this point, too defensive of the heart that already wants Robin back.
"You can keep it," he finally says with reluctance blurring around the edges—and not over the food, but the dwindling conversation, she knows because she feels it, too.
"Good," she replies, trying to mirror the same reluctance in her own voice to clue him in that she feels the same. "I haven't gotten to actually eat tonight anyway."
A soft, nearly inaudible oh comes from his end and then, "how'd that go?"
She sighs. "About like you think it would."
"Well, that's great, then!"
It throws her for a second. "Wait, huh?"
"I just figured you roll up in there, being the badass that you are, and pulling all his shit out of his chest of drawers and lighting it on fire and then you tell him he's a piece of shit and then he cries like a bitch baby, while you storm out to some women empowerment power ballad."
Regina maps out the image he designs in her head and she can't help but laugh. "Yeah, it totally went something like that." If only it had.
"I don't doubt that," he repeats her earlier quip, but with a boyishly goofy nature that hers lacked.
The pauses between each quip are enough to make anyone uncomfortable and especially weighs on Regina more heavily with each gap. Why did she let this come between them?
"Regina," he tries unobtrusively.
"Yeah?"
"You deserve better."
She doesn't know if he means it about Graham or himself or both of them but it touches her that he respects her feelings even if him disrespecting them is what got them in this mess in the first place. It reminds her that he's human and full of fault, but so is everyone else. Hell, she's as flawed as they come. And it's not like she's been totally and completely honest with him, either. At least, he had the intentions to be honest.
"You're one of the good ones, Locksley."
Robin scoffs. "I dunno about that."
"No, you are," she reaffirms, nodding even though she knows he can't see it.
"I'm sorry," he responds solemnly. She understands now that his statement before was more in reference to him than Graham. It makes sense—Graham is irrelevant to Robin, and the only tie that they have is what happened earlier—but it still makes Regina ache and it takes a piece from her, gnawing away at the final bits of anger that remain and leaving nothing but hurt behind.
She doesn't really want Robin hurting any more than she wants her own feelings hurt. Even if she can't fully admit it to him, she wants nothing more than Robin to be happy. She cares about him… a lot. In fact, he might be the first person that she's cared about this much since Daniel or her father. Everyone else, she's pushed away or driven out because she didn't want them getting to close.
Love is weakness, that's something she'd adopted from Cora. And maybe, there is some truth to her mother's mantra but Robin has planted a seed in Regina that grew in affection, rather than fear. Perhaps, Cora is completely wrong. Love only makes you weak if you let it. Regina kept people at a distance and they still hurt her. But the truth is, she is the one who's been hurting herself all along. It's not that she actually blames herself for Graham being a selfish, cheating bastard, but maybe, if she hadn't tried so hard to keep him at arm's length, they might have been able to have something good.
Of course, it was a blessing in disguise all along, anyway, because it led her to someone who is far superior to Graham and has been nothing but caring and compassionate to her. He's a light in her darkness, a beacon of hope, the cusp of a good life and a happier time in her life. And as much as she's tried to dismiss him, he's been steadfast and determined. He's dedicated himself to caring for her, even when she's adamantly refused it.
Her eyes glance over to the two bags of food and she can feel her eyes water (as well as, her mouth). She can't understand how someone as good and gracious as Robin Locksley can be as good to her as he is. Regina doesn't deserve it. And that's why she keeps trying to push him away. With others, it's always been easy. He was right when he said that about Graham and Kathryn—one cheated on her and the other isn't even speaking to her. But Robin has been different from the start. He's irritatingly stubborn but she likes him that way, because it means he cares. And even if she isn't sure why he is, she likes it, anyway.
Her resolution to the matter finally emerges amongst the other white noise. It's like the noise you don't hear until you tune into it or the thing you don't see until you're looking for it. But now it's there clear as day—Robin is the first person in Regina's life since those she knew before Phoenix, that she wants to do right by, that she wants to commit to in life (whether that be as friends or as more than that). She doesn't want to push him away anymore. She doesn't want to alienate him anymore.
She kissed him. And he kissed her back. They could date, they could fall in love, they could get married. She actually doesn't mind the thought of it either. He's there, he's into her. Why should she refuse what she wants—what they both want?
Regina knows why and she's been avoiding it through her entire reverie and even earlier when she was kissing Robin. There's a reason she's kept people at a distance all this time and it isn't just for her own selfish protection. She's protecting them, too, because she doesn't want to let them down—not only in the present, but also, if they were to find out about Phoenix. But with every other person, it's been easy to push them away and it's been easier to want to push them away. Robin, on the other hand has made it an extremely trying task all around. She can't seem to push him away, no matter how hard she tries, and now, she knows that she doesn't even really want to push him away. And the whole irony of it all is that Robin is the last person she wants to disappoint. Sure, he'd most likely be the most trustworthy person with her secrets, especially Phoenix, but she just doesn't want to have to face his complete and utter disappointment when he finds out about the horrible things she's done.
A part of her secretly wishes she'd never met Robin so that she could play out her miserable life the way she was meant to, being perpetually punished by the universe, in being cast into the dark shadows of her sins. Maybe this is all a test. To see if she'll finally dare to step out into the light, even though both she and the universe know that she will only get burnt out there. Then there's the chance that Robin will be the one to get burned.
She can't have that, she won't have that. But she can't push him away either, and she won't push him away. How can she do this so that they both come out alive and happy?
Regina sighs and contemplates her next response carefully. It has to mean something and it has to leave both of them with a little hope that everything is going to be okay. And she settles for, "I know you are. I'm not even angry with you, to be perfectly honest. I just need some space and some time to sort some things out on my own, okay?"
"Okay," he answers barely above a whisper, a twinge of sadness echoing after the word.
"I meant what I said. You're one of the good ones."
"So are you. You just have to open your eyes to see it."
She smiles softly to herself and finally gets the courage to abandon the counter she's been leaning on (and not without a little pain from the imprint now left in her lower back). Her feet carry her to the couch, where she plops down, picks up the remote from the coffee table and flips her screen over to Netflix.
"Goodnight, Robin," she bids him just as the gentle sounds of Moon River begin to play from the TV.
She thinks she hears him chuckle, whether that be in response to the movie or because she avoided what he said, she doesn't know, but then, he answers in kind, "Goodnight, my huckleberry friend," and she laughs.
When she hangs up, she just sits for a little while and watches the movie, but her night doesn't end until the bags of grease have been emptied and she is resolute on how to live with Robin Locksley as a part of her world.