A/N: Yeah okay, another update even if no one's interested. Thought i'd just post and you know, whatever. Here we go. Unbeta-ed forever and ever, mistakes are mine, can't say the same for Robin and Regina tho.

for my baby panini, Shannon (RegalPixidust) who is my fave.

Nothing

"If she sees how much I'm hurting, she'll take me back for sure."

It's been a bloody month.

Still his heart aches for her, and there hasn't been a moment in which he hadn't wanted to hold her in his arms, to bury his nose in her tresses and inhale her scent and let her envelope him. He misses her. God he misses her so much, he feels like a part of his missing, and doesn't know where he's left it.

Well, no, he knows where, he just doesn't know how to get it back, because when he'd given his heart to her, he'd given it all and now there is no way he can take it back from her. She owns him, all of him, heart, body and soul.

And though they said that time heals all wounds, he doesn't think his wounds would ever heal, not without her.

"You ought to get your life back together," Killian Jones had told him one day after he'd come and visited him upon finding out about him and Regina. They had been friends for a long, long time, and Killian had been there when he'd first started falling for Regina, had first saw a glimpse of the lady who always wore black and had an unmatched sadness in her beautiful brown eyes. One that Robin had wanted to take away, one that Robin put right back.

"I don't have one," he'd replied with despondency so clear and so transparent in his voice and blue eyes. He feels like the dead, feels like death itself. "She left."

Killian, who knows exactly what he's feeling and can sympathize but can no longer empathize because of the new love he's found in Emma Swan, had patted his shoulder and gave him a concerned look. If he'd thought that Robin was being crazy, he made no mention of it, and had instead made plans to go to their local, the Irish pub that they've frequented over the years on their boys night out.

And that is exactly where he is about to go now, having been dragged out on his ass by John and Will, his two other mates. He dreads it, really, not being in the mood for anything but the company of his misery, but here he is, and there he goes.

He orders a glass of scotch, steering so far away from whisky because it hurts to even think about drinking it now, all the memories of her flooding his mind whenever he does. He looks at the bar longingly, thinking of the time he'd first met her here in this very same pub, as she'd been dragged by her friends and she'd caught his eyes and at that moment he thought he'd start believing in soul mates and love at first sight.

…

He'd been sitting in this exact same spot for hours now, his friends having given up on him. It had been a hard day, a long one in fact, and really, he could have done without all the stress this day had afforded him—it isn't like he isn't already bitter about this day, as it is.

It's just one of those days when he thinks of the life he's led, and the despondency creeps up on him, and he thinks of his friends and how they have gotten their lives together, while he stays alone, grieving the loss of his wife. Though he's gone and moved on from the tragedy, he still feels so keenly the loss. She'd been his first love, and he'd have walked through hell to bring her back…only, that isn't at all possible and he finds himself needing to get his shit together and continue on with life because whilst hers have ended, his hadn't, and well…that's how it goes, doesn't it?

His eyes scan the entirety of the pub as he sips his drink, his eyes landing on the entrance as the door makes a creaking sound. In comes three women, a young brunette who seems to be as pale as snow white, with her pixie cut hair, and looking like a fish out of the water in this place, a tiny blonde follows her in, and she is chatting animatedly with the woman who only looks at the blond, unamused, as she follows in behind the two others. His heart stops and his breath hitches and he feels as though there is a part of him that detaches from himself and flees her side, but that's just ridiculous, isn't it? That shit only happens in movies.

The blonde looks at his general direction and he averts his eyes, a tiny bit embarrassed and having been caught staring. But the brunette, the one in the sensible pantsuit and red blazer had caught his eyes and made his heart skip a beat for reasons unknown to him.

He sits on that same spot for a bit while longer, staring at his drink. When he looks up, he finds the brunette looking at him oddly, averting her eyes when his gaze catches hers. The blonde snickers beside her, and the brunette only bites down on her lip, as the other brunette seems to be saying something he can't read from here. He watches as the gorgeous brunette takes her leave but not before rolling her eyes at her two companions.

It doesn't take long after that for him to gravitate towards the bar, to get himself a refill. He really shouldn't, he's had enough, but the alcohol numbs away the pain and his brain.

"Rough night eh?" the bartender asks as he pours him another glass of scotch, looking at him sympathetically.

Robin clenches his jaw, hating pity with every fibre of his being. But he says nothing and only giving the bartender a nod. He looks away and finds himself staring at the brunette from the table across him, looking at him oddly. She stands at the other end of the bar, her blonde friend right beside her. He gives her a stiff nod, but does nothing, not even as his feet seem to want to move towards her and ask her for her name. Or number, or out on a date.

But no, stop. He can't, not on this day.

He turns to walk away, drink in hand, when he feels someone grab his arm, and he turns back around to find the blonde grasping his elbow.

"Hey," she says with a smile, and he looks down on her hand still grasping his elbow, making her take her hand back away quickly. He lifts his head to find the brunette behind the blonde, looking embarrassed, her cheeks flushed delicately. She isn't looking at him, and she's biting that lip again. "I'm Rose Bell, and this is my friend, Regina Mills."

"Robin Locksley," he says, offering his free hand to them. "Can I buy you ladies a drink?" he offers, because it's the polite thing to do, and not because he's hitting on them, or her.

Rose grins, but Regina shakes her head, and glares at her friend sternly.

"No thank you," she says, her voice sounding low but honeyed. "I apologize for my friend's brazenness, it seems she's forgotten how to act like an adult."

"It's alright," Robin says.

"And no, it's okay, I don't drink scotch," Regina continues, nodding at him. "And we should leave."

"Maybe next time then," he says then, not really sure what else to do.

Regina only nods, clearly not intending to have that next time, and then she's bidding him goodbye, whisking her friend politely away.

For the rest of the night, he is flooded by thoughts of her eyes and her face, and it seems wrong to be thinking of her, to be thinking of pursuing her, even, though that is exactly what he wants to do.

When he next sees her, he is on his way out and so is she and she's waiting for her friends just outside the pub. He walks up to her, gathering his courage around him, and telling himself that there is no time to lose. Maybe, there is something to say about the way his heart thumps with a staccato beat whenever she's around, and there's that instant connection he just can't erase.

"Hey," he greets her, obviously startling her as she jumps. She turns around to meet him, her crossed features melting into a softer look when their eyes meet. "I'm sorry."

She waves her hand dismissively. "No worries," she mutters, averting her eyes.

"I was just wondering…" he begins, his nerves jumping and his heart thumping so loudly he thinks it might burst out of his chest. "I…"

"What?"

"I want to get to know you," he blurts out, and god what an idiot.

She smirks at him, finally raising her eyes to look at him. She shakes her head. "Do you now?" she asks, teasing.

He nods, and god he feels so embarrassed, it's ridiculous. "You still owe me that drink," he says.

She smiles shyly this time, her teeth sinking on to her bottom lip. "I suppose I do," she answers.

….

She'd given him her number that night, and he'd asked her if she really was going to entrust something so valuable to a common stranger like himself. She'd smirked at him, called him a thief in disguise, but had told him that he can't steal what's been given to him, winking at him, making his heart race even more if that was at all possible.

"Man, you're so far away," he hears Will's voice cut through his thoughts, his mind returning to the present even through the drunken haze. "Come back down to earth."

"I miss her," Robin slurs, his fist falling to the table, jostling the glasses and making the alcohol spill onto the table. "I miss her so bloody much, and she doesn't even care." He lifts the glass onto his lips and takes another long gulp of his drink.

"Robin," John warns. He takes the glass from him, "You've had enough."

Robin scoffs and snatches the drink once more. "No, not nearly enough," he says. "She left, mate, there's no way I can deal with that without these."

"You're far worse than you've been when Marian…" Will begins to say, but stops midsentence.

Robin chuckles bitterly. "When Marian died?" he continues caustically. "Well, at least there was an end to that, but this…how do you end this? What if she finds someone else? How am I going to live through that?"

He'd cry if he only had any more tears left.

Suddenly, he stands from his seat and makes his way to the door, his friends scrambling to follow him but he's quick, even in his drunk state, and they are a good few feet behind as he makes his way to her new apartment. He won't have found out where she lives if Mary Margaret hadn't let it slip when she'd visited him one day. And he'd kept that information stocked, hidden away, until now.

Every drunk step leads him right to her door.

He doesn't know how he does it, but do it he does, and he stands in front of her apartment, pounding against the door loudly.

"Regina!" he yells, "Come out, Regina. I know you're in there."

The apartment is pitch black, no lights are on, and she'd be asleep by now, but his intoxicated mind pays that no attention as he keeps pounding away on the door, and calling out her name.

"Robin, mate, you have to stop," Killian says, grasping his arm and trying to pull him back. It had taken them a while to follow him all the way here.

"REGINA," he continues, "COME OUT AND FACE ME."

There is a shuffling from behind the door but the lights remain off, and Regina remains on the other side, and he's left to wonder if she's even there at all, if she can hear him.

"I know you're in there," he says, his voice going softer now, as his forehead falls against the door, his fists flattening against the surface. He feels tears prickle his eyes. "I know you're in there, love, please, please come and talk to me." And errant tear falls down his cheek. "Please Regina, come back to me. I don't know what to do without you."

Nothing, nothing but silence.

"Come out and face me and tell me that we're really over," he begs even when he knows that it is, they are over. "Tell me you don't feel the same and I'll leave you alone. Tell me to go to hell, tell me you don't want to be with me anymore…tell me, tell me you love me, please, because I still love you."

He knocks once more, waits for her…but nothing.

"I just need you back," he says pleadingly, throwing pride out the window, he doesn't need pride, he needs her. "I don't know how to live without you anymore."

Still, nothing.

"Regina, please," he begs one last time before his friends are tearing him from the door. He looks back at the door, waits for her to say something, anything, waits for her to fling the door open and berate him for being selfish. Something. Anything.

But the door remains closed, and all he's got is nothing.

A/n: Flashbacks are in italics. Thoughts?