It seems like it hasn’t
stopped since. And it’s been a whole year, now.
She’s sitting by her apple
tree in the back yard, the recovered drawing of Robin and her clutched in her
right hand, her left hand absent-mindedly tracing the tape meant to fix it.
The ink is starting to fade. Of
lying under bunches and bunches of pens, reports, folders and what not. Of that
one time when Roland was searching for crayons in her office and accidentally
found it, before giving it to his little sister to show her “look, this is what
Papa looked like”. Of her grabbing it from him to pop it into her small, wet
mouth, tugging and licking at it, like babies do when you give them something.
Of Regina trying to salvage it again, waving it in the air and blowing at it,
all the while wishing she’d kept it somewhere else, somewhere safe from harm –
one of the only things she had left of her… her dead boyfriend, their dead
father, everyone’s dead friend. Of the months after, when she’d spent her
nights falling asleep with it lying under her pillow, giving her a false sense of solace and comfort. And of the thick raindrops falling onto it now.
Her index finger is caressing
his hair, smudging it in the process, slowly wiping it away, slowly, until
there won’t be any more proof of it left. No more proof of him left.
She rests her back against the
trunk and she pretends he’s sitting behind her, tries to pretend that it’s his
back she’s leaning on.
But she can’t. And she sighs.
It’s your fault, she
thinks. It’s all your fault. And she
She rests her hand on her leg
and looks up with closed eyes, allowing the rain falling in through the leaves
to touch her, and to, eventually, she hopes, consume her fully.
She cups her head in her palms
Her eyes shoot open at the
nearby smell of paint. She looks down at her palm, finding nothing that even
resembles the colour of her skin. It’s all brown. And white. And beige and red and
black and all sad colours in between. Her gaze shifts to the page, their page.
She’s no longer looking at the image of Robin and her on the brink of their
first kiss, she’s not even looking at Robin anymore. There’s just her. And a wet,
ugly smear of her hand where Robin once was.
She gasps and looks back at
her palm, and in a hurried, hopeless attempt to save it, she presses her hand
firmly against the paper again, laying it on the grass while sitting up on her
knees. She breathes heavily while pushing her hand against the paper as hard as
she can. She closes her eyes and tears begin to fall, mingling with the rain on
her lap, on her hand, on him. It’s then
that she realizes she’s making it worse and she removes her hand in a swift
move, only to reveal the torn paper, the heavy creases, the water – there’s so
much wetness, so much of it. And she
sobs and she cries and she pants and she “no! Robin, please, no!”
And there she is now, crying
on the wet grass of her back yard, her knees pulled up to her chest, the
picture that once was everything to
her, lifelessly lying beside her head.
Inspired by the prompt “I’ve been texting my friend for abt a week now and they dont reply but turns out i was texting a random person and there was some deep personal stuff i sent oh my god why are they calling me now?” by @dailyau
Big thanks to @ginaandrobbie for betaing the very first version of this! Thank you so much @queen-of-the-merry-men for working out the plot with me, encouraging me to write this and also for betaing the Prologue!
Her phone buzzed, just when she had put her paperwork, which had been lying about her office all day long, aside. She calmly got up from her moving chair to walk over to the device and languidly stared at its display. When she noticed who had sent the text her eyes widened in surprise.
New message from Emma Swan.
She opened the message curiously while she swiftly brushed her hair to its place behind her ear where it never seemed to stay.
“Hey there, I know it’s been a while… I’ve got something I need to tell you. It’s urgent and it definitely requires drinks. Meet me tonight at the Magic Rabbit. 8 o’clock. Emma x”
Regina scrunched her eyebrows in confusion and wondered if she would finally discover the reason behind Emma’s distant behaviour over the last few weeks. Of course she was disappointed that the two of them barely managed to find the time to catch up. She also had to admit she was mad at her best friend for not seeming to care about her at all lately. Yet Regina would be lying if she said she hadn’t been worried about the young cop. She was glad Emma finally seemed to be seeking for her company again.
Regina quickly typed a reply, unable to contain a snappy remark at the end of the text.
“Oh hello, Miss I-don’t-feel-like-seeing-my-best-friend. Back to normal again? Thanks for ignoring me for the past few weeks. I’ll be there tonight because I care about you. A lot. That doesn’t mean I am not angry at you, just to let you know… See you soon, a very pissed Regina.”
Some OQ pain/fluff - a take on how things might’ve gone down had it been Robin who returned from the dead instead of Hook (Yes I am a die hard CS shipper, but Robin’s death was also unfair & unnecessary).
The rain was heavy as Regina placed the last arrow on Robin’s grave slowly, almost not wanting to. She wasn’t ready to let go, not yet. It had all happened so quickly, he’d jumped in front of her without a second thought, taking the bolt right through his chest.
He’d saved her.
“We’ll leave you to it.” Snow smiled, “You know where we are if you need us.” She said, squeezing Regina’s arm as she and the other mourners made their way to Granny’s.
“I don’t know who I am without you.” Regina sobbed, finally letting herself break down once everyone was out of sight. Shed’ been strong for Henry, for Roland. but now she was alone she didn’t have to be strong anymore.
“You said I was your future.” She cried, “And now you’re gone.”
Her heart ached, ached for the man she loved. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. She wasn’t supposed to be alone.
Perhaps she was a fool to believe she actually deserved a happy ending.
Villains don’t get happy endings. She was right, all along. Despite how the others protested, when all was said and done. She was alone. Without him.
Robin was dead.
Running her hand along the casket she continued to sob, hard retching sobs that came from her very soul, from deep inside her. So strong they made her feel sick.
Dropping to her knees she retched, her stomach twisting, torturing her.
She didn’t remember the last time she’d eaten properly, and perhaps it was a good thing as her insides tormented her.
She felt nothing but emptiness.
After a few deep breaths, she wiped her mouth and rose to her feet.
“I love you.” She whispered, pressing her lips to her fingertips, then placing her fingertips on the casket. “Always.”
She was just about to turn to leave when there was a flash of light.
No. It couldn’t be. Hades had said… No.
“R-robin?” Regina said, snapping her head around quickly.
Before she could stop herself, she’d dropped her umbrella and was running towards him.
“H-how… Hades said…” She mumbled before pressing her lips against his.
“I don’t know.” He said, confused.
“Am I dreaming?” She asked, pulling away, “Is this some kind of trick?” She said, stepping back.
“No, I’m here. It’s me.” He smiled.
Regina stood silently for a moment before lurching forward into his arms, both of them landing on the wet ground with a thud.
“I thought… I didn’t… You’re here.” She said, peppering his face with kisses.
okay, so I saw a prompt on twitter about Regina’s first “I love you” to Robin. This is feelsy, but cute!
TW: mentions of rape, self harm, depression and abuse.
Robin says it the first night they spend together after him returning from New York. They are curled up against each other in her bed. Regina has her head on his chest, her hand drawing patterns across his chest. His hand is toying with her hair, curling it between his fingertips. Regina uses the ear pressed against his skin to listen to his heartbeat, the steady beat of it. He’s there. He’s here with you. She stills her hand, allowing the steady rhythm to fill her senses and to lull her to sleep. She’s almost there when she feels his head move, his lips pressing to her forehead. She’s nearly asleep, and that’s when she hears it:
“I love you, Regina.”
Her eyes pop open. Does he think she’s awake? Is he expecting her to respond? She waits. Nothing. Then his breathing goes heavy and slow. He’s asleep. He just confessed his love for her and now he’s asleep?! Just like that? Men, she thinks, with a roll of her eyes. She remains in the same position, his last whisper ghosting around her ears and snaking it’s way to her chest and then squeezing like a vice around her heart. When she’s sure he’s fast asleep, she wriggles away from him, sitting up.
I will never understand those who don’t ship things. Like what do you do just like a couple on a tv show or movie and be like “they’re cute I hope that happens,” and then it’s ambiguous or doesn’t happen and you’re like “oh guess I was wrong. That’s the end of that then” and don’t obsess over it for the rest of your life?