Hi guys, this one has been a looong time coming. There's still a bit more to go after this, but we're past the midway point now and getting to the end. Regina has to heal and Robin is going to be there every step of the way. This chapter is the true first step, a tipping point, shedding off what has really caused Regina's troubles and giving her a chance to move on.

Regina woke slowly to the feeling of warmth on her skin - her arms, her face, and one leg that was outside the blush duvet. The wide bay window was open just a little, enough to let in the fresh morning air and the sound of birds chirping in the tree outside. If not for the pounding in her head, she'd have found the scene rather comforting, quaint even, but the birds were slowly killing her - like a siren going off inside her head.

The whole room smelled of musk and pine needles, a smell that eased her churning stomach and soothed her nerves, if just a little; the sheets her face was currently pressed against felt soft and worn and the bed was large and comfortable - the feel of the fabric against her bare legs made her never want to move again. She realised, after a moment of running her fingers across the soft sheets - eyes closed, of course, she wasn't yet ready to risk it - she knew exactly where she was. Gingerly, she blinked her eyes open, testing the light on her already foggy brain - it was okay, the icepick through her eye socket she'd been expecting, didn't come. She looked around, taking everything in.

She had never really put much thought into whether or not a man's bedroom could be both ruggedly handsome and incredibly homely at the same time, but she supposed that was Robin all over. Wooden cabinets and dark sheets, a chair acting as a makeshift closet even though there was a perfectly good walk-in across the room, with the door ajar; she suddenly realised she could spend her whole day right where she was and never feel like it was wasted - but she couldn't remember how she got there.

The door opened and she startled only slightly, her thoughts breaking from surveying every corner of what had to be Robin's sanctuary, sucking in a breath in surprise before her eyes fell on his smile, bathed in the orange light of morning. He stood there in a pulled and worn white t-shirt and weathered jeans; her knight in cotton and flannel. Some of the memories fell back into place, making her frown.

"Robin," Her voice cracked, her throat raw - that's when everything came back to her like a flood.

"Good morning, sunshine." He smiled that smile that told her all was right with the world. She knew it wasn't, she knew it couldn't be. It touched her heart, though, that he tried. He crossed the room to her with a large earthen mug of steaming coffee and bare, silent feet on the thick rug. "How are you feeling?" He asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed as she pulled herself up to sit, gingerly taking the offered mug as the large old sweater she just realised she was wearing - the Oxford hoodie she'd worn the first night she'd been in his house - dropped off one shoulder.

"I've been better," She rasped, wincing and reaching for her throat with a tender hand. It hurt her to see him frown and for his eyes to drift to the hand at her throat. She wanted so badly to reassure him, to promise him what happened wasn't something that she planned to repeat. "But I've also had worse." She blinked at him, tilting her head to look into his eyes. "Where did you sleep?"

"The couch isn't half bad, don't worry about it." He smirked. A silence fell between them for a moment, as she tested the heat of the coffee, taking a sip. She pulled her lips away quickly with a small smile - it was still too hot. He looked into her eyes then down to his hands. "Regina," He breathed out. "Can we talk," he met her eye again. "about last night?"

"Robin," She started, but his hand up between them, silenced her gently.

"I know," He insisted. "I know it wasn't you."

Regina frowned. She remembered a lot of the night, she remembered being on stage, she remembered Killian's eye following her across the club with that forlorn, lost puppy look. She remembered talking to David, briefly, before they went on stage and raising a glass with him when they'd arrived in the afternoon. They'd grabbed glasses of juice from the bar and toasted to her sobriety with laughter, a far cry from what she and David had become accustomed to, which is why it stood out.

All she could remember ordering was a few juices, maybe a coke or two. There was definitely at least one club soda before she went on stage. She just assumed, somewhere in the fog, she'd decided 'to hell with sobriety' it certainly wouldn't have been the first time. But she couldn't, for the life of her, understand why - nothing important had happened that day; but maybe that was the whole point, did it really have to?

His words did surprise and confuse her though, and her brow furrowed."What do you mean?"

"Regina," he reached for the hand she had in her lap with both of his, holding it on the blanket between them. The coffee sat forgotten in her other, against her knee. "What do you remember, about last night?"

She tried to piece together her thoughts. "I know how it ended," She breathed out, the shame lacing every word. What surprised her, though, was how Robin's hands just gripped her's tighter, reassuring her, comforting her. If anything, she thought he'd have been repulsed, or a the least, embarrassed by her. She could still feel the cold tile against her shoulders and the sweet words of a blonde woman she'd never met, soothing her as she held back her hair. "I'm not proud of it."

Robin looked taken aback all of a sudden, frowning, surprised as he met her eye. Regina was only more confused. "Regina,"

"I fell off the wagon, Robin." She sighed, twisting her hand out of his and pulling it to curl against her chest. "I'm so sorry. I know you believed I could do this."

"No," He quickly replied, reaching for her cheeks with both hands. He cupped her face on both sides and she had no choice but to look up into those large, comforting blue eyes. They were eyes that, from the day she'd first gazed into them, she knew she'd break if they ever looked at her with disappointment, or anger, or fear. She pressed her eyes closed before she got lost in them, pressing them tighter and scrunching her face in fear of what she may find there. But his words shocked her. "No no no, Regina," She could feel his thumbs caressing the apples of her cheeks, deliberately, soothingly - dare she wish for it - lovingly. "I know this wasn't you. Please look at me."

She hesitated, debating with herself if she had the strength to look. But she trusted him, she truly did and she knew, he wouldn't do anything to hurt her, or scare her. It took great effort, but with a flutter of hesitation, her dark eyes opened and looked up to see.

Nothing but care, nothing but worry and concern and affection.

"Gold admitted it," He sighed, seeing how she tried to process his words. "I don't know how he managed it, how he did it without you or David or Emma noticing, but he all but admitted to lacing your drinks." He breathed out, seeing her eyes well up. "You didn't do this, he did."

Regina choked back a sudden, unexpected sob. Her body shook with it and the coffee cup slipped from her fingers, spilling on the bed sheets and over her bare leg. She hissed, shuffling back, feeling the hot coffee burn against her thigh and fresh, hot tears on her cheeks. Her brain struggled against his words, trying to process exactly what he'd said. She felt so suddenly exposed and violated.

Robin was quick to move, he jumped from the bed and grabbed an old shirt that was laying across a chair, dashing back to press it against the red raw flesh of her thigh, to mop up the hot liquid. Regina continued to simultaneously sob and wince, overwhelmed by the revelation and the pain in her leg.

Robin tossed the shirt and cup aside and they both dropped with a thud onto the rug. He pulled the sheets away to see her skin was turning a bright, harsh red. So he quickly bundled her small frame in his arms and carried her to the ensuite where he had to awkwardly set her on her feet just long enough to turn on the cold tap in the shower. He hesitated for only a moment before he muttered "Oh, sod it!" pulling her back into his arms andstepping under the spray, being sure to angle her leg under the cool, rushing water.

Her relief was only physical; he could see the red welt easing as he stood there, both of them drenched under the cool water, Regina bundled against his chest with her arms held tightly around his neck, her face buried beneath his chin as she cried - her whole body shaking with sobs. He rested his back against the wall for support, lifting her higher against his chest to keep them both steady. "What do I do, Robin?" Her small, lost voice surprised him. She sounded like a child, alone, abandoned and confused and he couldn't help but feel that her tears weren't only for what Gold had done. She sniffled against his throat, her tears warm on his skin against the cold shower water still running over them. "Where do I go?"

"Stay here," He answered without hesitation or doubt. Her head tilted up to look at him, this time not afraid to see into his eyes. "For as long as you need."

"That place was my home." She whispered and he could feel his heart breaking at the look in her eyes. He could only imagine though, what she was feeling - to have her autonomy stolen, to have her choice, taken away. He wondered if maybe it may have been easier for her to take, knowing that the stumble was her own choice - this was so much worse. She'd held onto that place so tightly, something that was killing her from the inside, because it was all she'd really had. Her home was a toxic, putrid den of greed and addiction because she'd had nowhere else to go, no one to pull her out. "What do I do now?"

Robin sighed, stepping out of the shower and moving her to sit on the vanity. She watched him as he turned in the small space to shut off the shower, so small that with every turn he made his hips brushed against her knees; he turned back with a cool, wet cloth and pressed it with his broad hand, against her thigh - the irony wasn't lost on him, as he pressed his palm to the tattoo on her thigh - a heart and a crown - his queen, his love. "You make a new home."

The look in Robin's eyes took her breath away and her bottom lip pulled into her mouth of it's own accord - even with tears still burning her eyes, she felt a heat down low in her belly, looking into his eyes. The warmth of his fingers through the cool cloth sent shivers up her spine and she shuddered as she rested her own hand across his broad, calloused knuckles - threading their fingers together against her leg. Her other hand gripped the edge of the vanity at her hip, holding on for fear of slipping off and knocking her head, only to wake up and find that this, him, his warm breath against her lips, was all a dream. She was petrified that if she blinked, her eyes would open to see her dark, dingy dressing room and the smell of bar-soap and sandalwood would be replaced with the acrid stink of stale cigarette smoke.

His lips were mere inches from hers, their breath mingling as his other hand pressed to her hip. Her breath caught in her throat at the unexpected sensation - rough fingertips against her skin, dipping beneath the elastic of her underwear - shuddering out as her eyes jumped from his eyes to his lips and back again; the warmth of his touch in stark contrast to the cool water that stuck to them both. "I'm afraid." She whispered on a breath, barely even audible but for how close they were. She didn't need to shout, she didn't really even need to say it, he knew.

"I'm here," Was his answer before his lips were on hers. It wasn't like he hadn't kissed her before, it wasn't like she didn't know how that felt. But this kiss had her heart nearly beating out of her chest with the promise in it. Not since Daniel, or Henry, had she felt like her heart could stop, shutdown, or burst for being unable to cope with how fast it was going, how full it felt. The hand he had at her hip had moved around to press against the small of her back, moving her closer to the edge of the vanity. She gripped his forearm, giving up on holding tight to the vanity because she knew in that moment, with Robin's hot lips devouring her own, that he was going to be better at grounding her than any solid, inanimate object, ever could be.

Her knees lifted at his sides as he moved closer, his hips pressed to the vanity as she wrapped her legs around him. He'd so far kept his palm and the cool cloth against her thigh but she grabbed for his wrist and pulled his hand up to entwine their fingers, letting the cloth fall to the floor at his feet. The kiss was burning and fluid, all harsh breaths and teeth and heat, like fire drawing up from her belly. With every inch he moved forward, she pulled him back until he had her bent against the vanity, her back pressed to the mirror. Awkwardly, and with his help, she managed to shuffle the hoodie up and over her head, dropping it to the floor with the cloth, leaving her in nothing but her black, lace underwear set and the heavy gold locket that hung around her neck.

Robin leant back for a moment, taking in the sight of her tousled, eyes half-lidded and wanton - wet curls were sticking to her face, but most of her hair was still dry having stayed out of the spray of the shower, pulled up in a messy little ponytail on crown of her head with the shorter tendrils falling loose against her neck. "You're so beautiful." He whispered and marvelled at the way she blushed, how her long, dark eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks and those dark eyes turned down to somewhere near his belly-button. With a gentle hand he reached for her chin, raising her head with just one finger to look in his eyes. "I mean that."

"I know," She answered softly, with a small, shy smile. He was the only one since Daniel, that she truly believed. Because she knew in her heart, he wasn't only looking at her body, he was looking at her whole being and what he imagined she could be. It made her feel brave, strong - it made her feel like maybe she wasn't as pathetic as she'd always believed, that she could get better, be better.

She watched him as he pressed his palm to her stomach, her body shaking just a little with the sobs she just couldn't yet shake, brushing his thumb against the rose tattooed in the curve of her hip, poking out from beneath the line of her underwear. His fingers traced a path around her belly-button, his palm edging it's way up to curve around her ribs. Her breath became more laboured, her heart beating faster with every movement, every touch. Her skin burned where his fingers trailed and she bit her lip, loving every inch of it. Like a balm on her raw, exposed heart.

Her breath stopped for a moment as his fingers stilled on her sternum. Something in her snapped and toppled over. A dam broke and she felt am overwhelming, desperate need to finally, finally tell him what it was that had brought them here, to this point, this moment. She'd never told another soul, she'd never felt safe enough. For so long she'd been behaving like she could get through this, that she could work at being better by working on the surface issues, when deep down she'd always known what it was that had splintered her soul, ripped her in two and left a massive, gaping hole in her heart.

"He was my son." Her voice, so small and broken, startled Robin - he froze.

"What?" He wasn't expecting that. The world around them silenced, like they were lost in a vacuum where nothing else existed by him and her and the bone-chilling torture in her eyes.

"Henry," She reached up, linking her fingers through his where his hand was pressed to her ribs, where the tip of his middle finger had just touched the tiny tattoo in the valley of her breasts, just over her heart. She caressed the ink, lovingly touching the tiny grey-blue heart that enclosed the name of her son, her precious, perfect little boy. She looked up at him with a watery smile, her voice thick and laced with tears. "He was my son and he died."

The image of Roland's cold, lifeless body came to Robin unbidden, and his heart broke in two, suddenly understanding how she had come to be so broken."Regina."

"No one knows about him," A lone tear trickled down her cheek, barely noticeable for flood of tears she'd already shed. "only David."

"David was his father."

"Yes."

Robin nodded, letting it all sink in. "Did you break up because he died?"

Regina smirked. "No," She sniffed. "we married because I was pregnant." She shrugged, shivering suddenly as the heat that had been between them was slowly drifting away, he pulled her to sit up closer, her stomach pressed to his. "We have always loved each other, but never really like that. We were kids and he was my best friend."

"Henry's death is what has done this to you, isn't it? It wasn't your marriages, or the music, it was him."

"I stopped caring what happened to me," She shrugged, fiddling with his fingertip on her chest, unable to look up at him as she spoke. "I just wanted to fill that void, with anything, I didn't care what." Regina sniffed again, moving her hands to absently toy with the button of his shirt to give her mind and hands something else to do, to ward off the tears that were winning, no matter what she did. "The day my son died was the single, worst day of my life. He was everything and he was gone, just like that."

"I'm so sorry, Regina."

"I have spent the last twelve years trying to burn or drown the pain away," She sobbed, dropping her forehead to his chest as her shoulders started to shake in earnest. "But it just won't stop." Robin continued to rub her back, holding her against his chest. Her limbs were shaky and her head lulled where her forehead was pressed to his shoulder. She continued to cry, but her strength to keep upright was almost spent; so much that she'd been keeping in for so long, finally released and it was like all her energy had been expelled.

"I don't want to forget," She looked up at him suddenly, her eyes resolute. "I don't ever want that. But I just want it to stop hurting."

"Come 'ere," He helped her down from the cabinet, her feet falling to the cool tile floor. He gently guided her back to the bed, pulling the coffee-soiled sheet off and tossing it aside before urging her to climb up onto the mattress.

"Stay with me?" She spoke softly, her voice husky, fighting off sleep.

"Of course."

"Is Roland here?" She questioned as he tucked the blankets around her, before climbing in the bed at her back. The press of his bare skin behind her surprised her for only a moment before she remembered his clothes were still sodden too - he'd dumped his shirt and jeans on the pile on the chair and kept his mostly-dry boxers on.

"It's still far too early for him to be up."

She sighed, almost content. "Okay."

"Regina," Robin spoke softly, pressing his lips to her shoulder as he hugged her tightly against him, their fingers entwined against her chest. "Will you tell me about him?"

There was a long silence, filled with nothing but her breath, an intermittent sob and the birds in the tree, just outside the window. As her breathing evened out he thought perhaps she wasn't going to answer, that maybe the onslaught of emotion had been too much for her and her body had given in to sleep. But her quiet voice surprised him and her hand squeezing his just a little, touched his heart.

"He loved fairytales, I used to read them to him every night, and I did all the voices, of course." There was a smile in her voice, and Robin thought, just maybe, now that this was coming out, she could perhaps start to heal.

TBC.