I have an exam in three hours but this jumping at me and I just can't help it. Here, have some pain. Just kidding, have some OutlawQueen hurting. No but really, have some OQ Modern AU!

Unbeta-ed till the end of time, yeah?

I'd like to thank my beautiful smut sister Jen for her input on this chapter :)

Hope you all had a wonderful, wonderful thanksgiving with your families (for those who celebrate!)

Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Six

One Last Time

"One last time, I need to be the one who takes you home"

She wakes, rather abruptly, to the sound of someone pounding at her front door. At first it scares her, half afraid that she's going to be murdered in her own apartment. Sometimes, like this time, she wishes she still has Robin. It'd be less scary, less painful.

The lights are still out, and she remains lying in bed, listening to the sound of her door, whilst her own heart pounded in her chest. And then she hears it, hears him , and her breath hitches, her heart stops, and the tears gather in her own eyes at the sound of the voice.

She misses him.

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

Of course, she's going to be right inside her apartment, she thinks as she rolls over and glances at the clock. It's three in the morning. She bites her lip and clenches her fists. Why would he do this? Isn't their breakup painful enough?

Still he yells for her to come out, to face him, but how? He sounds drunk, really, really drunk. And it breaks her heart because no matter how much she wants to go out there and get back together with him…she can't, not yet. He is miserable, and so is she, but turning to alcohol is never going to be the solution, especially since it's the very reason they broke up in the first place. If she takes him back now, when he hasn't even found the control to stop, hasn't found the pieces of himself he's lost through the years, then it would end the same. Only this time, they are going to be ruined, destroyed to the point of no return, no repair.

And could she really, really, do that—break them like that?

She could go out now, face him. But can she really go out there and watch him break again? No, she really can't. But she can't say this far away from him, and so, she climbs out of bed and pads quietly to the door, without turning on the lights. She hears him say things, beg her to come out, and her heart breaks in so many pieces, shatters until they're nothing but mere dust. He might as well just rip her heart out while he's at it.

"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.," she hears him say, then a pause, a beat, as her forehead falls to the door, and her hand lays against the surface whilst tears fall down her eyes down her cheeks.

She tries to muffle her sobs, the walls aren't very thick, and she knows that he knows that she's just right there, behind the closed door. He knows that right now, only a thin piece of wood are separating them, and she could be there, outside with him, but she can't. They are far too damaged to try and fix each other right now.

"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."

She wants to rip the door open and run to him, hold him and just stay in his arms forever. God, how she wants to.

"Regina, please," he begs one last time and she could feel the last of her control leaving her body, her hand encircling the cold brass knob now, and she's just about to damn everything to hell.

But she hears his friends tearing him away from her door, hears them try to console him as he blubbers in his drunken slur, and she grips the knob tighter—not sure if it's a curse or a blessing in disguise that they've managed to tear Robin away from the door before she could open it and do something stupid.

She feels her heart fall to her stomach, feels the tears wet her cheeks as they pour from her eyes like a storm that just won't stop. She could feel that clenching in her chest, and she finds it hard to breathe as she slides down the door and falls apart.

…

She shouldn't be here.

She definitely doesn't want to be—she's not in any mood to party, not without Robin by her side—but it's Mary Margaret's engagement party, and she can't say no to her. Besides, Regina had been partially responsible for this. Robin used to live in the same apartment complex as David, Mary Margaret's fiancé, before they'd moved in together in the place where Robin lives now. Regina had introduced them, and they'd hit it off after a while of bantering like cats and dogs—and now they are about to be married. And while Regina is happy for them, she cannot partake in such a party when her own heart is breaking.

She also knows Mary Margaret would be very understanding if she can't go, but upset nonetheless, and really, there's enough animosity and antagonism to go around in Regina's life that she doesn't need any more.

So, she really can't not go, even if she doesn't really want to.

She just dreads having to face Robin, because surely she'd be there. He and David are good friends, he'd surely be invited. Maybe he won't come, knowing she'd be invited as well. But that doesn't seem likely. So Regina just needs to suck it up, grin and bear it.

She arrives at the venue a bit later than she'd wanted to, but she'd spent most of her time in bed, crying at almost everything she's uncovered that reminded her of Robin. It is inevitable that it happens, she's spent six years with him, blissfully believing that they were meant to end up together—and there had been too many memories between them.

Pushing the door open and trying not to squirm so much in her new tight-fitting back dress and high heels (she's spent more days than she could count in her pantsuits and lounge clothes lately because she's been too depressed to work up a zipper). She spots Mary Margaret, standing with David, greeting guests, and the surprise and appreciation that crosses Mary Margaret's face makes her smile a little.

"Sorry I'm late," she tells them once she's reached them. She kisses Mary Margaret's cheek, and then leans up to do the same to David, who grins at her.

"What are you doing here?" he asks, teasingly. "You aren't invited."

Regina laughs and looks at David with a mock pout. "You wound me, I came to give you a gift," she says.

"You didn't have to," Mary Margaret says, with affection. "We didn't need any gift."

Regna shakes her head and smiles at her friend, before she fishes out her gift for the couple from her purse. "Here, my gift to you," she says, handing the gift to them.

"Thank you," Mary Margaret says, taking the gift and handing it to David who wanders away from them to put it away. Once he's gone, Mary Margaret loops her arm around Regina's. "Are you okay?"

Regina bites down her lip and looks at Mary Margaret. Is she? She doesn't know. "Depends," she says softly. "Is he here?" She has been trying to look for him since she's arrived, craning her neck in every direction.

Mary Margaret nods solemnly. "Yes, he is," she says with a hint of embarrassment to her voice. But why should she? It's her party. "He's outside, I think, with the rest of his merry men. We couldn't not invite him. He's friends with David."

Regina turns to Mary Margaret and smiles sadly, taking the brunette's hand in hers. "M, just because we're over doesn't mean you'd have to take sides. He's David's friend, and he's your friend. You don't have to make allowances just because I can't yet bear to see him."

Mary Margaret nods slowly. "You still love him, huh?" she asks, but it's a pointless question because everyone, including Robin himself, knows the answer.

Regina looks at Mary Margaret with glassy eyes, and bites her lip in an effort to suppress her tears. "I don't think I'll ever stop," she admits gently. "I think I always will."

…

She stands outside the restaurant with a glass of champagne in hand. She'd have taken whisky, it certainly is a lot stronger, but that drink reminds her of him, and really, it's enough that she knows he's a few feet away, somewhere inside the room but she still can't reach him.

They've seen each other hours ago, had looked at each other dead in the eyes as she walked up to the bar and he stood there, nursing a drink of his own. He's looked at her with longing in his eyes and she just about melted right then and there so she'd made a mad dash to the ladies room, leaving him behind. She's been hiding from him ever since, unable to face him, unable to face her heart break.

She hears the door slide and open from behind her, but she doesn't turn. It's probably just one of Mary Margaret's many other drunken guests, looking out here to find a place to make out, or whatever. She and Robin would certainly have, were they still together.

"You look stunning," she hears someone say from behind her, and she knows, she knows it's him.

Her heart starts trip hammering inside her chest, and she almost drops her champagne flute, as she licks her dry lips and swallows. Slowly, she turns around to find him, looking at her intensely. He still looks handsome, those blue eyes still captivating albeit the fact that the light in them seems to have gone out, and he looks miserable, sallow.

"Thank you," she tells him softly, averting her eyes. She can't look at him for so long and not melt.

"I miss you," he breathes out, pausing abruptly as though he hasn't meant to blurt that out. She turns back her gaze on him and finds him looking remorseful. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head. "It's alright," she whispers breathily, taken aback by the force in which his words hit her. "I missed you too." She could just kick herself right now. The words are out before she's thought them through, and there's no way to take that back now.

"Regina," he gasps, covering the distance between them and grasping her elbow.

She shakes her head once more and places her hand on his chest, a half hearted attempt to push him away, to make him stay—she doesn't even know anymore.

"Robin," she breathes out, watching as he leans in closer, aiming for her lips. She turns her head away just in time, and he catches her cheek. She can't let him kiss her. She won't be able to walk away, and she has every intention of doing so—for their own good.

His lips linger on her skin, as his hand slide to her waist and he holds her close to him, not saying a word, just holding her.

"Robin," she whispers again, but he only tightens his hold on her, letting his head drop to her shoulders, turning just enough to bury his nose to the crook of her neck.

"Just give me a minute," he pleads. "A minute where I could just pretend that we're not in this situation. I know it's my fault, and I know I have no right to be forgiven for everything I put you through, but I just…please pretend for now that you still love me, and we're not broken."

She does. She still loves him. But what good would it do now to tell him? She'll only end up hurting him. So she remains silent, and stays in his arms, holds him to her, until a minute has passed, and another, and another, until they don't know how long they're standing there, holding on the remains of the love they've once shared.

It's still there, big, enormous, but tattered, broken.

She pulls away from him and apologizes, for everything she supposes, before she disappears back inside.

…

It's late, really late when she decides to call it a night and go home. Actually, she is supposed to go home a few hours back, but she's seen Robin walk back to the bar and ask for drink after drink after drink. She'd have left if she's sure someone would fend for him, but Killian had left, and so had Will. John is meant to stay, but he'd had a call from his wife and had to leave, apprehensively, only being appeased when Regina had offered to take Robin home, herself.

And now it's time. Robin has drunk enough. He's drunk enough for him to not remember anything from this night, anyway.

She stalks over to him, where he's arguing with the bartender.

"Give me my damn keys, now," Robin says to the bartender angrily.

The bartender shakes his head no, and says that he can't, under any circumstances, give his keys.

"I can't let you go have an accident," the bartender adds.

"It doesn't matter," Robin argues. "The woman I love left me, didn't you know? I'm dead inside."

His words make Regina's heart stutter, stop, then break. She can't stand that he's like this, but what else can she do?

"I'll take him home," Regina offers to the bartender, opening her palm for him to hand her the keys.

"Really? Can you handle him?" the bartender says with apprehension. Robin, despite being only a few feet taller than her, is rather muscular.

"I'm the woman who left him," she snaps, clicking her tongue and giving the young bartender a glare. "I think I can handle him. Now give me the damn keys and help me bring him to his car."

The bartender nods and follows.

…

The apartment is just as she's left it, except it's littered now with bottles and bottles of alcohol and some takeaway that he seems to have not disposed of. She helps him to the bedroom they once shared, as he babbles all the while.

"Are you staying, my love?" he slurs as he stumbles on the way to the bedroom.

She doesn't answer, only helps him remove his shoes and clothes until he's down to his boxers. She tries very hard not to be affected, but damnit, that body has been responsible for so many spectacular orgasms, and had been responsible in making her feel warm and secure before. She helps him down the bed, pressing a kiss on his forehead before turning around to leave.

She feels him grasp her hand and pull, so she turns.

"Stay with me," he begs, looking at her with unshed tears. His eyes are bloodshot, and red rimmed and he looks so tired. "Let me hold you while we sleep, please, Regina."

And really, she cannot find it in her to deny him one more time, so she gives in, slipping off her shoes and groaning in relief. She climbs into the bed next to her, feeling its soft sheets and being transported back to time when everything had seemed so perfect.

She feels him lower the zipper on the back of her dress and she panics when she fees him slip it off of her body, leaving her in her panties. She thinks he's going to try and have drunken sex with her and she's just about ready to spring out of bed, when he pulls her closer and lets his hand rest against her bare skin, his nose burying against the crook of her neck. He inhales deeply, as if committing her scent to memory.

"Stay with me forever," he mumbles one last time before he is being pulled under and he falls promptly to sleep.

She feels the tears slip her eyes and she bites her lip to stop the sobs from escaping her lips. She can't stay away from him, not when she loves him like this—so much, too much, it hurts.

She puts her arms around him, pushing him closer to her.

"I love you, Robin," she says, because she does, she still does.

She'll stay for tonight.

Sorry? :(