I wrote this before, and it's more OQ than Peanut, but it's about her and here seemed like a good place to put it.
There was supposed to be time. There was supposed to be at least a few moments, preferably after this Camelot mess was away and done with, where there was a moment of stillness in Storybrooke, where Regina wouldn't be consumed with guilt and worry over Emma. Just a moment where they could focus on them, on how to move forward from this messy, complicated situation.
Robin stares into his whiskey, before rubbing his eyes, trying to ffocus on what to do now.
Because now he has been robbed of that time. Now Zelena appears to be in labor.
He got the call a few minutes ago, yet he hasn't been able to tear himself away from his seat at granny's.
It's his child that's being born. A child he cannot wait to see, raise, protect. A child he already loves And he has all the support in the world, everyone will be by his side for this moment if he only would ask. Regina will be there without him having to ask.
He knows this. But he doesn't want to see her. Can't imagine what torture she will put him through while she's in labor. She could continue to taunt him, remind him of his unwilling part in this child's life, of the nights that once held hope and now were vile, dark memories. Dark memories that he would never completely be able to regret, because they resulted in his child.
Would he look at this new child and be haunted by nightmares of living with her mother?
Would he be able to love this new child as much as he loves Roland? Would he see her everytiem he looked at this new child? And if that did happen, what did that say about him, blaming an innocent life for the crimes of its mother?
There was supposed to be time to work this out. Time had been stolen from him, and as good as a thief he may be, he couldn't rob it back.
He swallowed the last of his whiskey, Sent a text to John to let him know not to bother showing up for a drink afterall - he had to be on his way. "Something" came up. He wasn't ready to tell John his child was being born. As if writing the words would somehow make it more real.
In a daze, he makes his way to the hospital. He's only had one drink, but he feels fuzzy, as if he were in a dreamlike state, as if all of this isn't real. Doctors and nurses speak to him, direct him wear to go, and he hardly hears them, following their directions as if in a trance. the nurses pointing towards an elevator, one held up three fingers, and Robin nodded, pressing the button to the third floor, his mouth dry, his legs moving of their own accord, feeling heavy and foriegn to him.
She's there, standing outside a room, phone in hand. Probably about to call him again and see where he was. She looks up and smiles at him, and god she's beautiful, beautiful and warm and comforting, and dear god he doesn't deserve her.
"Robin, I was worried when I didn't hear back, Zelena's ok, everything's stable. The contractions are–"
But he's rushed toward her and pulled her into a needy, desperate hug that takes her breath away.
She's pulling him away from the room now, moving him with her.
"Come here for a second."
"I-I have to go in there…"
"It will just be a moment" she promises, and her eyes are warm and soothing, and oh, how he just wants to melt into her and soak up every ounce of comfort she can give him right now.
And is it even fair for him to be soothed and comforted when this situation can't be easy on Regina either?
But he lets her lead him into a small empty waiting room, she closes the door and motions him onto a small couch, he sits down, adn she's next to him.
"Robin" her fingers are soothing circles over his arm, small patterns that are battling the anxiety, the turmoil going through his mind right now. "Talk to me."
He shakes his head. "There's no time, I have to –" he goes to get up, and she pulls him back. He doesn't fight her. He doesn't want to leave. His head falls on her shoulder again.
He breathes into the nape of her neck, inhaling her scent and it's like a smelling salt, waking him up and calming him at the same time. "There was supposed to be more time." he chokes out.
"I know" Regina responds, her voice full of sympathy. "But there'd never be enough time to deal with this, anyway."
"What if I can't stand the sight of my own child?" he asks, and he cringes at hearing his fear finally vocalized, moving away from her now, his eyes down focused on his lap, too terrified to even look at Regina's reaction.
"Robin….you don't. I see how you look at the ultrasound. You already love that child. There's plenty of real things to be afraid about. Don't waste your energy on irrational fears."
"And you– you won't…" He pauses, afraid he will insult her, but needing her to confirm his fears are irrational yet again. He doesn't want her to hate his child, to blame her. But he can't vocalize that fear yet. He takes a deep breath, shaking his head and looking down at his hand, now entangled with her own. "Are you alright?"
"Robin, I'm fine. I love every part of you, and this child is a part of you. Circumstances are…unfortunate. But you are a great father. And I know you wanted more children. "
He takes a deep breath in, willing himself not to break down at a moment where he's supposed to be there for his new child.
"I can't do this alone" he says, and it's a weak confession to a person who always seems to do everything on her own, and he feels once again rotten and unworthy next to her.
"Well it's a good thing you won't have to." Regina responds immediately, her free hand lifts to his head, running her fingers through his hair. "I'm here. for whatever you need."
He shakes his head. "It's not fair for you, for me to be unloading everything on you. She hurt you too,I hurt you too, and you can't tell me this situation doesn't cause you pain because I've seen it, I should have talked to you about it earlier, I just thought…"
"You thought we'd have more time" she finishes for him, and he nods. She smiles "I understand. And why don't you let me decide what I can and cannot handle. I'm asking you to let me help you."
Self-loathing and regret fill him, he doesn't feel like he deserves her understanding in this moment. "You also deserve to know, to know that I knew something was wrong, something was off. I tried to move on with her anyway. And that's my fault, I shouldn't have…"
Regina shakes her head, smiling, her hand flies over his lips to silence him. "Don't you dare blame yourself for anything. We agreed to you moving on. I didn't think I'd ever see you again. I would have wanted you to try to be happy. I would have wanted you to fall back in love with her, if it were truly her." She wants to stop herself, but the words tumble out. "And truly, this entire situation is my fault, I'm the reason you ever lost Marian to begin with."
And there it is. She's still blaming herself, and it's not her fault. And he can't have that. He shakes his head. "I've told you I've worked through that. You're not that person. You're the person who's saved, countless times, and I wish I had a moment to explain what you've meant these past few weeks, but I…"
"Let's focus on you now." She brushed back the compliments, feeling unworthy, uncomfortable of such praise under the circumstances. "You're going to be a father again, soon. No one would blame you if you didn't want to be in there right now, with her. I will be in there, I will bring the baby do you the second she enters the world." She could push her pain, her jealousy aside for him. It's not the time for her right now, and she knows, a part of her knows, that this is the right thing to do.
"No" Robin says, shaking his head. I want to be there. I just…" he took in a breath. "I need you there too. And it can't be easy for you–but I just need to ask–"
Regina rested her hand on him reassuringly, looking into his eyes with a warm smile. "You've got me. You don't need to ask."
He pulls her into a hug, breathing into her hair. "Thank you" he says, quietly.
"There's no need to thank me. You have given me…so much more than you know." Regina smiled, her hand caressing his cheek.
For a moment there's a comforting silence, where he finds solace just looking into her eyes.
She waits until the last of that oppressive tension dies from his muscles, til his eyes seem to soften.
"Ready?" Regina asks, standing and holding out her hand. He's not sure he is, but he follows her anyway, into the room where the woman who tortured him in so many different ways awaits.
The next hours aren't easy. Zelena is miserable, more than ever. She threatens and lashes out, makes short, clipped references to their moments together in New York as the contractions become more painful (Robin cannot help but say a silent thank you to the child for not going easy on Zelena). By all accounts, Zelena is acting as badly as he feared, as badly as she could act without her magic.
But it's not the nightmare he envisioned, as Regina's presence is a soothing balm for the pain she tries to inflict, and her words barely register with him.
It's all worth it the moment he sees his daughter, hears her loud cries. The doctors say she's strong, despite what she's been through in Zelena's womb, despite what caused her to so rapidly grow, she's made it out in perfectly healthy. The moment he holds her, in his arms, and she quiets and coos against his chest, that's the moment he knows. His daughter is resilient. And why wouldn't she be? She's a Mills, afterall.
He doesn't see Zelena in his daughter, as he'd feared. He chuckles at the absurdity, his daughter's hair is clearly light, will be blonde or maybe red, her eyes are...most likely to be blue. But despite all that, it's Regina's eyes he sees looking back at him when he looks down at his tiny daughter.
It's later that he sees Regina holding her, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, his daughter seems to fit against her perfectly, as if she was meant to be her mother. A wave of calm sweeps over Robin as he watches her face, beaming down at his daughter. She looks so happy, so peaceful with her.
Everything is going to work out.
There's so much more to be said between him and Regina. More things to work out for the future. This situation is far from easy. But there is time for that, plenty of it.