When Robin discovered he was to have a little girl, he was more than a little nervous.
He had lived in a forest with a camp full of men, very few women inbetween. Spare for Marian, he hadn't much interaction with women, and nearly none with little girls. He knew Marian would be able to raise a girl, that Marian could teach him, and that brought him some comfort. Still, he had been relieved when she gave birth to a baby boy. He was confident he would be a good father to a boy.
When he became the father to a beautiful baby girl, Marian wasn't there to show him what to do.
There were other fears that grew more pressing than her gender, however. He had worried so much about what his daughter would look like, if she would remind him of her, if he would subconsciously hold what she did against his precious daughter. Those thoughts, thankfully, had gone out the window the first time he looked at Eliza.
He was lucky he had Regina. At first he was determined not to accept her help, despite her commitment to him, despite her assurances that she wanted to help. He felt deeply guilty for burdening her with Eliza, and no matter how many times Regina insisted Eliza wasn't a burden, he still felt the deep, gnawing guilt every time he caught a flicker of what looked like sadness in Regina's eyes. He saw the hurt in her most often when Zelena mentioned her times with Robin – something she'd spit out in those early months with Eliza. She'd either do that, or remind everyone as her status as the birth mother and Regina's inability to ever hold the same title, and he'd watch as a flicker of hurt would go across Regina's eyes, always immediately replaced with concern for Robin, biting down her own feelings to help him with his, for he had been the most hurt in this situation, she said. And she had done so much for him, for Roland, in the wake of the nightmare Zelena had left them with, that Robin was determined not to ask her to do more.
But the last amount of guilt in asking for help had come the day Regina said she loved Eliza. He knew her, knew her heart, and when she had told Roland that yes, yes, she loved his sister, she loved her despite the sleepless nights, despite the ear-piercing cries, and his heart was warmed. From then on, he let himself think of the child as Regina's, and chased away the bad thoughts that she was pained or hurt by her presence, and focused on the happiness he saw in her when she cared for their little girl.
Early on in Eliza's life she did not take interest in traditionally female things. His daughter liked playing with Henry's old trucks and cars, had little interest in dolls. She liked the outdoors, liked the mud and the dirt of the forest. Robin had prepared himself to learn about tea parties and frilly dresses, but instead Eliza's interests and demeanor mimicked Roland's.
Regina wasn't surprised. She was a Mills girl, afterall, and Mills girls were not conformists. She was proud of her daughter, delighted in the fact that when she pretended to play princess, it was a princess who fought to defend her people from evil. Eliza was a little spitfire, completely unsurprising given who her parents were.
Eliza started first grade next Monday, and Robin couldn't believe how much she had grown. They were spending the day together, camping, fishing (though Eliza had little patience for fishing, it seemed) and learning a bit of archery (though Regina insisted she was far too young).
Eliza asked questions. She pointed to every plant she came across and asked her father "What's that?" and then, if he knew the name of the plant, she'd asked "What can you do with it?" She wanted to learn what she could eat, what was used to dress a wound, what could be used to buld a fire or break camp.
IN no time at all, she'd be more knowledgeable in the forest than his own merry men, Robin thought.
He was adjusting her stance while she held her bow when she asked a question he hadn't expected.
"Papa, why don't you like mommy?"
He scrunched his eyes. Oh god, not this question.
"Zelena?" He asked, but it was stupid, of course she meant Zelena. He wasn't going to get out of this by assuring her he loved Regina. His daughter already knew that.
Eliza nodded.
"Who told you I didn't like her?" He asked, curious and holding his breath. Zelena had made great strides in the past few years, and mostly at Regina's assistance they had agreed to let her into Eliza's life. When they introduced Eliza to Zelena two years ago, they anticipated all sorts of questions. Instead, when they told her that this was her mommy as well, and that this mommy had grown Eliza in her belly, Eliza had only asked "Like Emma with Henry?"
She was too little to understand the controversy. Her brother had two mothers, why shouldn't she?
It figures that the second she had a hard question about the relationship Regina wouldn't be around.
"No one said so I just know it. Whenever she comes to pick me up you always leave," Eliza said, still focusing on a target, and taking aim. She released the arrow with a pop, and it landed in the dirt. Not enough strength or focus in that one, Robin thought. "And I asked her to come take me to my first day of school, but she asked if you would be there and I said yes, and then she said she couldn't go."
Robin gritted his teeth. He never truly had forgiven Zelena, but he had to admit she tried. She was full of the same self-loathing Regina had been, and he wished, deep down, he could forget the pain she had caused and learn to trust or at least tolerate her. She was trying, afterall, and she did go to great efforts to make sure he was as comfortable as possible now that she was in Eliza's life. Still, Zelena reminded him of a very dark time in his life, a time when he tried desperately to reconnect to his wife, a time when he was filled with guilt for not being able to love the person he thought was his wife like his own. A time when he pushed himself so hard to give her the intimacy and love she craved, only to find out it was a cruel trick. He had never truly healed. He probably needed to see Dr. Hopper, but he had resisted such a thing for years. He had assured Regina he had worked it out himself. And he had, mostly. As long as he didn't spend any time with Zelena.
He hasn't said anything yet – hasn't found the words to respond to his daughter, when she presses on.
"Then Dr. Whale said he hopes my hair doesn't get any more red in it, because then I'll remind you of mommy, and that's 'the last thing you need'. Why don't you want me to look like mom?"
Fucking Whale.
"I'm afraid Dr. Whale doesn't know much about anything that isn't medicine," Robin says, ruffling his daughter's hair, and nodding to her as she readies her second arrow, aiming at the target. "Let's not listen to him unless it's about an illness, ok?"
Eliza released the arrow and jumped up as she saw it hit the target. Far from the bullseye, but good nonetheless.
"So you won't be upset if my hair gets more red?"
"No, darling."
"But you don't like my mommy."
He breathed in. "Your mommy hurt me very badly. It was a long time ago, before you were born."
"Did she say she's sorry?"
Oh, to be innocent, when apologies fix everything.
"Yes," Robin admitted, thinking of the many times Zelena had delivered a heartfelt apology, both in written form and in person. "Many times she said she's sorry."
"Then you should forgive her!" Eliza said, putting down her bow and looking at Robin with determination in her eyes.
"Remember when Alex pushed you, and you fell down and broke your arm? He said sorry, but you still had a broken arm, and it still hurt. Your mommy hurt me, and she is very sorry. But it still hurts me. "
"What did she do?" Eliza asked, and he had anticipated, surely anticipated, her asking, but now that she did he was at a loss. She was young, far too young, to understand what Zelena did to him.
"I'm afraid that's something I should keep between me and your mommy" he said after a long pause, earning a scowl from Eliza.
Eliza sighed. "I want her to take me to school, you and both my mommies." She said, eyes piercing at Robin, as if she was daring him to turn her down.
It wasn't too much to ask. But his daughter could almost ask anything of him and he'd do it.
"Alright" he said. "I'll try to be better with your mommy, ok?" He knew if Regina were here she'd tell him he was already far more accommodating than he need be. He She'd have some magical way to explain everything to Eliza and make her understand she was asking too much – without ruining her relationship with Zelena. He knew, he knew. But he was standing there, and his daughter just wanted her family together for one day, and he wouldn't deny her that because his old wounds weren't quite healing. Regina had forgiven her, and he should learn to follow in his wife's footsteps.
Eliza nodded, smiling brightly. And then she cocked her head, her eyes focused on something behind him. She walked over to a bush with red berries she hadn't seen before. "What's that?" she asked, pointing towards the bush.
And with that, the very difficult conversation Robin had hoped he wouldn't have for years was over.
When they got back home he'd speak to Regina, and maybe he'd make that appointment with Dr. Hopper. He deserved to give it a chance. For his daughter's sake.