Many thanks to ninzied for her help on this. Prompted by evilregalana.
She's driving, Robin in the passenger seat as they laugh at Roland's latest escapade, rain pounding on the windshield, when she sees it, the specter caught in her headlights. She slams on the breaks, both of them lurching forward.
Her breathing picks up, fast pants rushing past her lips as she stumbles out of the car, leaving her door open to the rain, barely aware of Robin following her and asking in a voice full of concern, "Regina? What is it? What's wrong?"
"I thought I saw…" she begins, trailing off. Robin touches a hand to her waist for barely a second, he'd seen something too, but thought nothing of it, a flash of light and a man walking down the street. She's pulling away and jogging to her car. "I have to go see Dr. Whale."
…
"Regina, what's going on?" he asks as he slams his door shut, barely in the car before she's stepping hard on the gas pedal. "Regina!" he cries, louder this time. She slows minutely, spares him a brief glance, and he sees a storm, horror and hope and longing; he almost doesn't recognize her, she's not his Regina, she looks younger, somehow, less put together, more frantic.
His hands grip the sides of his seat until they turn white, afraid for her, what is it, what has she seen?
"Daniel," she whispers. He doesn't understand, feels panic settle low in his stomach, wonders if she's going mad.
"Regina, I don't…the man?"
She nods frantically, her hands as tight around the steering wheel as his are on his leather seat. "You saw him too?" she pleads. This is something like madness, he thinks, this is not her, he's known her for just over a year now, has seen her come back from devastating loss, from losing Henry, from getting her heart back from Zelena and saving baby Neal, he's seen her upset, angry, fearful, wild with hatred, but never like this, never mad to the point of dizziness, mad with what appears to be the opposite of anger. Daniel…they saw Daniel but—
She slams on the brakes. They have reached the hospital.
He's out just after her, running to keep up as she flies through hallways and up stairs, throwing open the door to one room. A flash of lightning strikes. They both stare, tripping through the room, destroyed, full of broken glass and knocked over equipment and torn wires, flickering, half-broken lights.
Robin pushes a cart out of the way, sees Regina stumble at the sight of blood; his Regina does not flinch at such things, what has happened to her?
"Dr. Whale!" Robin cries, rushing forward. The man lies on the ground, bleeding from his shoulder. Regina pushes Robin out of the way, shoves him with so much force that he stumbles, kneels next to Whale.
"Where is he?" she demands, her eyes wild, Robin sees them in the reflection of a metal surgical tool when lightning flashes. Not the eyes of the Queen he'd sometimes seen traces of in the Enchanted Forest, not high on power, but rather wild with the zeal of loss and pain and maniacal hope. "Did you bring him back?"
An almost imperceptible nod.
"He's alive?" she gasps. Robin's belly drops, his heart pounds, adrenaline rushes to his head and his fingertips, makes him momentarily blind to sight and sound.
"A—a monster," Whale chokes out, and that brings Robin back, confused, terrified, he feels for Regina's pain, but loving this man has defined her life, he breathes harder, pushes away his own jealousy and fear, Regina first.
He finds the call button in the room, presses hard and hears the blessed sound of attendants rushing in and taking over Dr. Whale's care. He grabs Regina's upper arms, gently, lifts her from the ground.
"I have to find him!" Regina cries, struggling in his arms.
"Stop. Regina, stop," he begs, holding fast.
"He tried to bring Daniel back to life, long ago, and…he says it's worked. I have to find him!"
"Regina!" he cries, holding her face between his hands. "Look at me."
Her eyes stop shifting around, meet his. His Regina is suddenly halfway back, pained and fearful, but more herself, and she looks afraid of him. He has never, ever wanted that.
"We'll go find him, okay?"
Her fingers dig into his arms, her nails biting against the skin. She nods.
He ignores the next twist of apprehension in his stomach, imagines what it would be like for him if Marian were suddenly alive, would he be able to stay away? And he would need someone to keep him sane, to stand by him and remind him that the world outside his head still exists. He'll do that for her, Regina first.
…
They track Daniel down to the stables, Regina silent after the suggestion that he might gravitate to a meaningful place, Robin walking hurriedly beside her, his head spinning. He thinks of grabbing her hand, thinks better of it, thinks of it again at her tense shoulders. The madness sinks back over her as they walk, he can feel it pulling her down.
He hears stumbling footfalls as she moves away, and when he turns a man with wild eyes has her pinned to a stable door. Robin's bow trains on the man immediately, and he prepares to fire the second he has a clear shot that does not risk hurting Regina.
"No!" she chokes out, pulling at the hands around her neck. "Don't." The hands release her suddenly, and in seconds she has drawn this man behind her, Robin's knocked arrow pointed squarely at her chest instead of his.
"Regina, please," he begs, as the man—as Daniel—grabs her arm again, tries to shove her to the side.
She shakes her head, tears pooling in her eyes. "No!"
Robin's eyes fly wide open as she pushes him back, her fingers tugging at his bow—why does she not use magic?—and he panics—she will make the arrow fire at her—kneels and drops the weapon to the ground.
The man grabs her in a chokehold again; she's crying as she tries to tear his hands from her neck. Robin tries to help her, grabs Daniel's wrists and tugs, shoves him back until he falls to the ground.
Regina throws herself at him as he goes for his arrow again, this man will kill them both, whoever he is, he is not her first love, not anymore, but Regina scrambles, shoves and kicks and claws, weeps, begs, "Please, let me talk to him."
If it were Marian, he'd want the chance.
He forces himself to relax and back away a few feet, but he stays there, ready to help should she need it, his heart cracking at the look on her face, conflicted, he's doing that to her. Some ungenerous part of him is glad of it as he fights back tears, conflict means he is not forgotten, not yet.
"Daniel," Regina pleads as she turns to him. The anger rises in Daniel's face, stronger than before; he goes to grab her again. "Please," she begs, for him to remember her, to come into himself. Robin can barely make out the word for her whisper.
"Regina," Daniel gasps, suddenly melts, and they're falling into each other's arms. Robin bites back a sob.
"I can't believe it's really you," she chokes out, and Robin swallows heavily, hates himself for the rush of jealousy.
Daniel's body crumples suddenly, out of her arms, he's wincing, begging, "Please, stop the pain."
"How?"
He cradles her face. "Let me go."
"No," Regina implores, "no, I won't lose you again." Robin's stomach bottoms out, he fears where this is going, and his heart aches for her, to lose her first love for a second time, the jealousy flies away in his concern for her. Daniel winces again, his face twisted in pain.
Robin can feel her panic rise as she reaches for her first love, "Daniel, come back to me," but he can't, he tells her so, and Robin does not have to see her face to know that her eyes have gone wide with fear, disbelief, grief, anger. "But I loved you."
Robin watches Daniel fight for a last few seconds of consciousness as he brings a shaking palm to Regina's cheek. "Love again."
Robin looks at them, straight into Regina's dark eyes as she stares at him. Her eyes warm, soften a little; it must last several seconds, the embrace of her gaze. Robin's heart pounds.
Daniel runs at her again, Regina folding into herself, scrabbling to hold onto his strangling arm with both hands. Robin rushes forward—this time the man looks insane enough to kill her—and Daniel has suddenly released Regina and goes for him. Daniel freezes, inches away, in a blue film.Regina's magic, Robin realizes. She crumples into herself, every muscle limp, lifts one hand, and her first love fades away like dust on a breeze. "Goodbye, Daniel."
Robin catches her just before she falls to the ground.
When she opens her eyes, Regina is back, his Regina, he sobs in relief, the madness gone from her eyes.
She hears it, grips his shoulder with one hand, buckles under the weight of her grief.
"I'm sorry," she gasps, sobbing into his chest, her shoulders, her head, her entire body shaking with it.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
She sobs harder.
"I've got you," he breathes, rubbing a hand up and down her back. He does not shush her tears, how futile and cruel, she can cry for as long as she needs, and he will be there to hold her, no matter what that just meant for them. (Nothing, he knows in his heart, the past will always haunt both of them, Daniel and Marian, nothing has truly changed.)
"I'm sorry, Regina, I'm so so sorry."
She buries her face in his neck, shakes her head, her fingers scrabbling to fist in his jacket, in the shirt quickly growing wet with her tears.
…
He brings her home, makes her tea and toast that goes completely untouched, fears for how she's grown catatonic.
"Can I stay, tonight, on the couch?" he asks. He cannot bear the thought of her spending the night alone.
That finally garners a reaction, a weak half-smile and whispered, "Yes."
Once she goes upstairs he sits at the kitchen counter, alone, nursing a cold and bitter cup of day-old coffee, sits on the couch and turns his face into the back of it, curling up away from the world. Sleep does not come, just staring and staring at the cushions and begging his cracking, panicking heart to keep it together.
A hand curls around his bicep from behind, weight sinking onto the cushion beside him. Lips against his shoulder blade, followed by the press of a face into his shirt there, a slow intake of breath, arms loop around his waist.
He takes deep breaths for the first time in hours, allows her time to do the same. When he scoots around on his shoulders to face her, the warmth has come back to her eyes.
She tilts her forehead onto his, her hands framing his face. "I told you I never thought I'd have this again," she breathes. He hums, rubs his thumb back and forth where it rests on her hip.
"But you do."
She smiles, tearful but genuine. Her voice goes low, gravelly. "But I do," she agrees, searching his face, running a thumb lazily against his cheekbone. He still looks afraid to her, unsettled, disbelieving.
She swallows past the lump in her throat for making him feel this doubt; the afternoon had swept her away, but with her feet back on the ground she knows he need not have worried. "Robin," she begins, stroking fingers down his stubbled cheeks and chin, "I know I was—this must've been a confusing day for you."
His Adam's apple bobs. "A little," he admits.
Her lips quirk before she grows serious again. A gentle hand runs across his jaw, down his neck, over his shoulders, and settles above his heart. He feels warm at the contact, his heartbeat stuttering, they're all right.
"I will always love Daniel," she whispers, her brow knit together. Tears pool in the back of his eyes, fight and fight to break free; only when she wipes them away does he realize they have.
She fits her palm over his, splits her fingers between his. "But he is my past; he fell in love with a person I have not been since the day I lost him. And you—" she halts, sucks in a breath. He kisses her, slow, unhurried, open-mouthed, full of promise.
"I would not blame you for wanting to be with him still," he breathes when they part (he would, it costs him to say it, jealousy is weak and dishonorable and ungentlemanly, but very, very real.)
She tilts her forehead against his, shakes her head, half a no and half nuzzling into his skin for the pleasure of touch. "I don't. After today, I am finally certain that I don't. You have no idea how freeing that is."
He thinks of Marian, of the days of madness after her death, of the struggle to accept that it would and had changed him into someone else, of finally finding a way to fall in love as the person he's become and not the person he used to be. "I do."
He tugs her as close as she could possibly be with a palm on the small of her back. "Do you want to move back to bed?" he offers.
She nestles her face into his shoulder, grins into his skin. "I'm perfectly happy right here."