In darkness, and secure,

by the secret ladder, disguised . . .

Regina awoke to a nearly empty camp. A few men were banking the fires. Roland was sitting up clutching his blanket. Robin was nowhere to be seen. The boy must have woken up after he left. Regina went to him and set about getting the boy up and fed. Before he ate she insisted he wash his hands and sang the ABC's to show him how long he needed to wash. He didn't know the song.

"Then it's time you learn," she told him, and he sang along with her. "That's it. You pick it up quickly," Regina couldn't resist ruffling his hair.

She washed her hands and splashed some water on her face, and when she wiped her eyes had another vision of Frodo Baggins, this time with a golden ring on the end of a chain, which the boy was fingering pensively. The One Ring? Henry would like that. But that would be too much, even for her life.

"What is it?" she asked kneeling by Roland.

"It's from Mama."

"Your mother?" Then she understood. A wedding ring.

"This is Daddy's," Roland explained. "Mama took hers to Heaven."

Oh.

"Daddy lets me wear it sometimes."

"I see," then Regina smiled at him. "That is very nice, that you have that."

Roland nodded so solemnly that Regina nearly laughed, but stopped herself, knowing his feelings would be hurt, not understanding her reaction. He held it out to her then, seeing her interest. Regina touched it. It was very fine gold. Precious and…

"Have you eaten yet, Roland?"

Regina jumped. The men had returned. And Robin saw her fingering his wedding ring.

Sh-.

Like Hamlet peering at the skull.

Oh, sh-!

She stood up quickly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intrude," she spoke quickly as Robin held out his hand to Roland, taking the chain and ring back.

"You didn't," he said simply, putting it around his neck and tucking it inside his shirt, walking away to pack his tent.

She wouldn't be feeling like she should fall through the Earth if she hadn't been.

They set out. Ok. Change the subject, change the subject, and the awkward goes away faster. Change the subject.

"What were you all doing this morning?"

"Tracking," Robin replied. "That creature seems to be shadowing us. We thought we might get to it. But no luck." He gestured ahead, "that's why we're going deeper into the woods."

Regina wished she hadn't asked. She looked up, jittery, and called Roland closer to her side.

He nodded, catching her eyes knowingly, and then moved ahead.

She may have stumbled when her knees buckled a little.

This was getting ridiculous.

There was no sign of any more danger as the next few days melded into each other. All the group began chatting with each other a little more, the familiarity provided by several days of camping already seeping into them, despite the initial wariness.

Never underestimate the power of boredom to overcome murderous grudges.

And Robin kept coming by. While she tried not to engage, somehow she always allowed him to goad her into another verbal spar, and no matter how much she vowed the next time she wouldn't take the bait, she always did. It was all really a little adolescent, his behavior, the glee at getting her annoyed, yet she started to anticipate it, too. They had turned some sort of corner that night by the fire, exactly what, she wasn't sure. Keeping company in that setting became a habit after Roland was asleep. Each evening the conversation continued longer.

Even so, this day, Regina barely heard his next query; she was so much into a fantasy about a shower with shampoo, conditioner, and detangler.

"What?"

"Your turn," Robin said.

"Oh. Uh… King John?"

"No," Robin answered.

"Of course. That's me," Regina chuckled. She was gaining as many personalities as Rumplestiltskin. She should change her name to Sybil. This latest verbal past-time - "my medieval vs. yours"- was having surprising legs. She and Robin had gotten more than two hours out of it so far.

"Notre Dame?" Regina asked.

"Our Lady?" he nodded, "Yes."

"I meant the cathedral."

Robin shook his head. "No. None that I can think of."

"So no Quasimodo?" she asked.

"Yes. Quasimodo. The Easter Octave Antiphon."

'I'll take that as a 'no,'" Regina muttered.

"Now that's just silly."

"Oh and what do you call this conversation?"

"Passing the time," Robin suggested.

"With the Evil Queen?"

"No, with Regina," he corrected with an odd smile. "You … amuse me."

"Oh thanks," Regina rolled her eyes.

"It's a compliment!" he insisted.

"To you, yes. It's always about you," she commented sing-songy, sarcastic.

He looked down, "Or a way to compliment you in a way that you'll accept."

"No, except maybe …" but her voice died out. Her jaw dropped a little.

Robin had that smile about his face he often carried except this time it looked…nervous.

Oh.

Oh no.

Then dammit he looked up right into her eyes and she just about stopped breathing.

How the hell did they get to this?

Say something. Say something. Regina cleared her throat, "Thank you, I think," she said.

Robin stared a moment, then laughed lightly, walking away from her again, and the moment passed. Just quite what that moment was she wasn't sure. She just knew that she wanted it gone.

Away.

There was no point to any of this. She would be gone from the Enchanted Forest forever in less than a week.

No point.

She grabbed that part of her heart that was warming masochistically to Tink's little experiment, and put every mental image into her head to chill it.

For there was no point.

None.

None at all.