Robin woke to warm breath on his face. Startled, he opened his eyes to see none other than Regina staring at him.
"Wh-What are you doing here?" he gasped.
"Talking to my creator, of course," she replied, a radiant smile on her lips.
"Your… creator," Robin replied slowly. Clearly, this was not the Regina he had seen who had inspired his painting.
Was it possible that she was the woman from his painting? Her words indicated that this was the case, but Robin found this hard to believe. He was, after all, not a character in a fairy tale, but a person living in the real world, a world where magic did not exist….
Or did it? His eyes and ears told him that he was listening to and looking at a real woman, made of flesh and blood. Was it possible that she had come from the painting? If so, how? Why? If she had, what had happened to the painting? Was the picture of this woman still intact, or had the beautiful woman standing before him literally stepped off of the canvas and into his life?
Determined to discover the answers to his questions, Robin got out of bed and was followed to his studio by the woman who looked so much like Regina.
There it stood, his masterpiece that had apparently come to life. The painting remained intact, but as he looked, he noticed subtle differences, mainly that the eyes of the woman in the painting didn't sparkle with life as much as they once had, and her smile did not hold the same warmth.
He looked up at the dark-haired beauty next to him- Roni, he decided he would call her. It was close enough to Regina that it fit, but if he called her Regina, he would get confused between what was reality and someone who couldn't be real- could she?
"See?" she asked, smiling at him. "I really am here."
"But how?" he asked.
She shrugged. "Your guess is as good as mine. All I know is that I arrived in this room last night, and started exploring my surroundings, which is how I found you."
"Do you have a name?" he asked. He didn't want to start calling her Roni if that wasn't her preference. No matter how she had come to be, she deserved a say in her own name.
A small frown darkened her features as she contemplated the answer to his question. "I… don't know. Is that strange? I was hoping you would tell me."
"Not at all," he assured her. "And if it is, it isn't your fault. Do you mind if I call you Roni?"
She shook her head. "Roni," she mused. "I like it. Yes. You can call me Roni."
He nodded, confidence surfacing now that they had gotten past the most difficult hurdles. "Well, Roni, welcome to my home. It's not much, but I do have a room for you."
"Never mind that, what things can I do for you?" she asked, peering up at him with a desire to please in her eyes. "A busy man like you surely needs to relax every once in awhile. Let me take care of you. I can cook, clean… whatever you want, it's yours."
He smiled down at her, a good six inches between their heights. "You're welcome to help around the house, but I want to help you, too. So how can I do that?"
She pondered the question for a moment, her warm brown eyes intelligent. "I want to find my place in the world. What I'm meant to do. Really, that's all I want. I thought it was here, helping you, but-"
"It might be here," he hurriedly reassured her. "We don't know yet. However, while we figure out where you belong and what you were born to do, you're welcome to stay here. There's plenty of space and you won't need to pay anything, it's the ideal place to stay until you have a better idea of your purpose here."
"Okay," she agreed. Her face brightened, and Robin knew if she had been Roland's age, she would have been rubbing her hands together in anticipation. "So what do we do first?"
"First, we need to make and eat breakfast," Robin told her.
She nodded. "I can do that! Lead the way- I just realized, I don't know your name."
"Robin," he replied rapidly. "It's Robin. Sorry about that, I should've introduced myself long ago. I guess I've been a little… distracted."
Her soft brown eyes reminded him of just why he had been so distracted that he forgot all propriety, and he quickly turned and walked to the kitchen, hearing her follow behind him.
Robin quickly discovered that as his first impression of her had indicated, Roni was an innocent dove, a dove who, despite her willingness to help him in the kitchen, needed guidance there and in all areas of daily living. He showed her how to make an omelet, and she quickly caught on, her eyes shining with the satisfaction of learning something new. Despite her inexperience, she was a natural, flipping the omelet like a head chef who had been doing it for years. Robin made a mental note to teach her to cook more recipes- she had picked up this one rapidly enough that with a little more practice, he thought she would be able to look for a job as a cook at any of the restaurants in town.
He told her to remain in the apartment while he was at work and showed her where she could find a lunch of chicken salad and how to make it, then went to work.
Hours later, Robin was exhilarated. Although he didn't like his boss, he had just written an article for him on a local sports game where their town's two rival high schools had played against each other. On his way home, he stopped by the library to check out cookbooks for Roni so he could teach her how to cook and bake. As he browsed the titles, he didn't realize how consumed he was in his task until he was knocked off his feet, books flying everywhere as he braced himself with his hands, trying not to sustain any injuries from the fall.
"Oh! I'm so sorry, can I help you?" a melodious voice asked. An olive-toned hand reached for his as his head snapped up. He would know that voice anywhere. In fact, he had just heard that voice this morning.
Sure enough, his eyes met the gaze of Regina, the woman who had stolen into his thoughts and dreams and turned his world upside-down the day he had spotted her with her son at the fountain.
"Re-" he began, then stopped. If he called her by name, she would know that he had been asking about her, and the last thing he wanted was to scare her off, so he held his tongue. Instead, he reciprocated her question: "Are you all right, milady?"
She nodded briskly, bending to collect the books that had fallen on the floor.
"Here, let me help you," Robin offered, gathering books in his arms and standing to face her.
She snatched them back from him. "I could've gotten them myself, I'm not some damsel in distress waiting for a prince to rescue her from something as simple as dropping books."
Robin couldn't hold back the chuckle and grin that escaped him. From one look at her, he had instantly known that she was not someone to be crossed, that she was strong, fiercely independent to a fault. And judging by that sentence, his initial assessment of her couldn't have been more right.
"What's so funny? Are you laughing at the clumsy librarian why apparently can't go a day without colliding with someone and dropping an armful of books?"
"No, not at all," he reassured her. "You just seem like a woman who is very independent, that's all."
"You're right, I am," she affirmed. "So if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."
"Wait," he stopped her, reaching out a hand to grasp her arm. "What's your name?" Even though he knew it already, he wanted her to willingly share that knowledge with him and learn his name in return. Suddenly, the thought of hearing his name in that alto voice of hers filled him with a longing that left him desperate to hear his name fall from her lips.
"You asked for my name, but if you want my name so badly, why don't you give me your name first?" she snapped back.
Robin couldn't resist grinning, holding in his laughter. She was a spitfire, fierce, and it showed in everything she had said to him so far.
"Robin, Robin Locksley," he answered swiftly. "And yours, milady?"
"'Milady'? Do you work at Medieval Times or a Renaissance festival or something? Do I need to help you find books on that era? Because they're not here, they're a couple rows over."
He denied her claim with a shake of his head. "It's just my way of showing you I respect you- and you haven't given me your name yet," he reminded her, "so what else am I going to call you? Would you prefer that I call you something that's more derogatory?"
"Of course not!" she refuted rapidly, shuddering.
"Well then?" he prompted, awaiting her answer. He couldn't wait to hear her say her name.
"Regina Mills," she finally told him, holding out her hand for him to shake. "Nice to meet you."
"Nice to meet you too," Robin answered, taking her hand.
The moment their hands met, an unknown force hit Robin so strongly that his eyes flew to hers from where they had previously been focused on their hands. It seemed that an irreversible bond had been forged between them. Not only that, but her hand seemed to fit perfectly in his, as if it had been made to slip into his like a glove custom-made for her hand alone. Robin hadn't thought he believed in soulmates, but the fact that he had been drawn to her from the moment he laid eyes on her and the shockwave that had hit him the moment their hands met proved otherwise. Maybe he did believe in soul mates after all, and would believe in them from this moment forward.
At that precise moment, a female voice interrupted them. "Regina, get back to work. I need your help with something."
The force that had seemingly held both of them spellbound broke as Regina seemed to snap out of a trance. Shaking her head, she turned to the intruder, a formidable woman in a blue dress, her hair pulled back into an austere bun. "Sure, Ms. Blue. What do you need?"
The woman brandished a pile of papers at Regina, who caught them. "We need to pick up the pace on weeding, we've fallen behind. So I need you to stop loitering and get back to work."
Robin saw Regina sigh and glance longingly at the entrance. "One moment, Ms. Blue, then I'll pull those books off the shelves."
"Not one more minute. Now," the woman ordered, walking away briskly, seemingly confident that her orders would be followed without contestation.
A silence fell between them that Robin knew could quickly become a long one, so he hurriedly filled it. "Your name is beautiful. Did you know that it means 'queen'? Between that and what I know of your personality so far, I'm sure that you could run this place better than she seems to."
She shuddered, seemingly involuntarily, and he knew that there was a story that she associated with being a queen that she didn't want to relive. "Don't remind me, I hate my name," she admitted. "Besides, no one argues with Ms. Blue and lives to tell the tale."
He was dying to ask why, but didn't think she would tell him. So instead he reassured her, "Don't hate it, it's beautiful. It suits you, too, if our interaction today is anything to go by." He was telling her the truth. Everything about her was regal, from the way she carried herself to every word she spoke.
Something in her seemed to snap, and suddenly she was all business again. "Well, sometimes appearances can be deceiving. After all, you don't know if I'm a good queen or an evil one."
"You? Evil?" he questioned. "That seems to be a bit of an overstatement. Bold and audacious? Perhaps. But not evil."
"Well, I guess you'll never know," she cautioned. "And I don't let just anyone do that, you have to earn it."
"Any hints on accomplishing that arduous task, milady?" he queried, winking.
Her lips pursed at his use of the endearment, but he could see the hint of amusement in her eyes, so he knew he shouldn't back down. Although her moniker might suggest that she would char anyone to a crisp if she felt the situation called for it, he had a sneaking suspicion that she was enjoying their banter as much as he was.
She shook her head. "Nope. Guess you'll just have to find out all on your own. Now what did you actually come here for? Because I have a feeling that it wasn't to flirt with me. So what can I help you find?"
"Already found it," he answered, gesturing to the shelves around them. "Cookbooks. I'm teaching a... friend how to cook."
"Oh," she responded. "Are you an expert? There must be a reason this friend is coming to you for help."
"I'm all right," he admitted humbly after a moment of thought. "But the main reason is that she's new in town, so she doesn't have anyone else to turn to."
"Send her my way, I make a mean lasagna and apple turnovers," she bragged.
Robin laughed, picturing how disastrous that scene would be. "Maybe. If my instruction isn't adequate, I just might take you up on that… but that requires having your number first."
"Smooth…" Regina began as Robin glanced at her hopefully, "but not smooth enough. What makes you think I would give my number to a complete stranger? You could be a serial killer, for all I know. Besides, you know where to find me now, so you don't need it."
Robin was torn between groaning with frustration and chuckling. This woman was certainly determined to keep him on his toes. "Fair point. I guess you'll just have to take a leap of faith. Unless you want me to come in here every day… but why do I get the feeling that if I do that, you'll think I'm a stalker?"
"It is tempting…" Regina mused. "But because we had this conversation, maybe I wouldn't. Maybe."
"You don't sound so sure about that," Robin pointed out, a twinkle in his eye.
She shook her head. "No, I am. Unless there's a reason for me not to be?"
"No, no," Robin rapidly reassured her, "Not at all."
"Well then, I guess I'll be seeing you," she said as a farewell as she walked away. Robin couldn't resist watching the sway of her hips as she retreated, her sensuality immediately apparent from the movement.
"Yes," Robin answered softly, a moment too late, "Yes, you will." It was as much an answer to her statement as a promise to himself. Regina fascinated him like no other woman ever had. He knew he wouldn't rest until he knew everything about her.
Robin returned home to find Roni sitting on the couch reading a magazine that had been laying on the coffee table.
He breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't considered the thought before, but now that the concept was forefront in his mind, he was pleased that he wouldn't have to teach her to read and cook simultaneously. Apparently when he had drawn Regina's intelligence into Roni's eyes, that intelligence had manifested itself in her doppelganger.
"Anything interesting?" he asked. He knew he didn't keep many magazines around, they only created clutter that he needed to clean up, but maybe a different, female perspective would shed light on a diamond in the rough that he had missed with his initial cursory glance.
"I did find something interesting, actually," she informed him. "Did you know that you already have recipes here? You didn't need to go get some from somewhere else."
"Really?" Robin asked, doubting her words. Maybe Mulan had slipped a cooking magazine into the pile one day.
"Really," she confirmed, holding the cover out for his inspection.
Robin laughed. It appeared that Mulan had indeed slipped a cooking magazine into the pile of art and travel magazines. Maybe she was trying to send him a message that he was by no means the world's greatest cook- or that he needed to expand his repertoire of recipes, one or the other.
"What's so funny?" Roni inquired, a frown marring her otherwise beautiful features.
"Don't worry, it's not you," Robin hurriedly explained. "My friend put that cooking magazine into the pile of art and travel magazines, and I think she either put it there to tell me I need to be a better cook, or choose different recipes- I'm just not sure which message she was trying to send."
"Oh," Roni said quietly. She suddenly had a worried look. "Does that mean I shouldn't be trusting you to teach me how to cook? Should I be seeking out this friend of yours?"
"No, no," Robin laughed. "Really, she has no room to brag, she dislikes cooking with a passion, and only does it out of necessity. Although…" He debated about telling Roni about Regina's offer. He knew it would be a terrible idea if the two women came face-to-face, but would Roni see the wisdom in that thought process, or would she want to meet the woman who had inspired him to paint her so much that she would take desperate measures to find her?
Robin knew that seeing someone who appeared to be their identical twin would cause anyone to react without putting any thought behind their words and actions. Given how guarded Regina was, and how he was desperately trying to persuade her to lower her walls around him, he knew he couldn't allow Roni and Regina to meet. Regina would immediately run away, never to speak to him or even look his way again. Above all else, he was most adamant about preventing that scenario.
Cautiously, he began, "There is someone who is an excellent cook- or so she claims, I haven't sampled food she's prepared for myself."
"Then she can help me learn!" Roni exclaimed.
"Well, actually… that's not the best idea," Robin cautioned. "You know I painted you, and that's how you were created, right?"
"Of course," she responded. "How could I forget?"
"Well, I painted you after seeing someone who looks exactly like you. And normally, not only do paintings not come to life, but those paintings don't look like other people. So although Regina offered to help me teach you how to cook, can you comprehend why it might not be the best idea for you to meet her?"
"Oh," Roni answered quietly. "Yes. Yes, I can. I would scare her, right?"
"To say the least," Robin confirmed. "So unless we absolutely must seek her help, we're going to avoid it for now, all right?"
She began to incline her head, then seemed to change her mind. "Robin, what if I-"
"No," he interrupted her, silencing her with his words and a hand on her slender shoulder. "It really is for the best, I promise."
"Okay, I'll make sure I stay away from her," she relented. "And to make up for trying to meet her, I'll make you a delicious dinner tonight."
"You mean you'll help me," Robin corrected gently. "After all, the whole reason I met Regina was because I was getting cookbooks for us."
But Roni had been right, she really did make the dinner, all he did was assist her. She had a knack of knowing measurements and adding just the right spice to enhance a recipe that left Robin in awe. How had he thought that this woman needed to learn how to cook? It seemed to be ingrained in her soul- and maybe it was, Robin mused, considering Regina was a cook as well. Maybe she had dreamed of being a cook one day and while she had never been able to fulfill that dream, it was manifesting itself in Roni.
Robin mulled over these thoughts as he fell asleep that night. Despite Roni's insistence that she didn't want to take advantage of his hospitality and offered to find a room in a hotel, he hadn't listened to a word she'd said, instead insisting that she took advantage of the spare room that, despite his lack of visitors, he always kept ready in case someone wanted to visit.
As they had said good night, she had stood on the tips of her toes, looking like she wanted to kiss him. He rapidly turned away, so that her lips pressed against his cheek. He had to keep reminding himself that, despite the fact that she appeared to be real, as proven by the very real feeling of her lips on his cheek and her hand as his had brushed against it as he taught her how to cook, she had once been a figment of his imagination brought to life by paint and canvas and some still-unknown brand of magic. He knew it would be unwise to let her charms lull him into thinking that he could be happy with her for the rest of his life… but the more time he spent with her, the more he hoped that one day, fantasy would become reality and Roni's lips would be Regina's, navigating with him through sensations that were beyond his wildest dreams.