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“We all get a second chance, Regina. You just have to open your eyes to see it.”
She doesn’t want to think about Robin, or Henry, or second chances, but she’s lying in bed and she can’t think of anything else. She’s living her old life again in this big, sad castle, remembering how she felt when she was last here. How she always felt when she was here.
Anger. At Snow White, at King Leopold, at her mother. At anyone, as long as she didn’t have to focus on how much she hated herself. It used to burn in her veins like ice, used to fuel her. She didn’t know why, not then – why she had to have that resentment and that hatred. Now she does.
Without it, she wouldn’t have had anything at all.
Now, she is made up of only dust.
And oh, how badly she wants to believe that lie – a second chance – more than she’s ever wanted to believe anything in her life, and for a moment, he had almost convinced her. Almost made her think that she could turn it around. But she’s long since decided that hope is only for heroes.
Her own son doesn’t remember who she is. He’ll never know that she’s the one who saw him walk for the first time, who heard him speak for the first time, who looked at him and thought that he was her wonderful little boy.
She closes her eyes to stop the tears that are wetting her eyelashes, but it doesn’t matter. They always come. She wipes her eyes and lies there for a while, willing sleep to come. As always, it evades her.
She finally gives up.
She decides to continue her nightly ritual of wandering the castle. It never helps, but eventually she grows tired enough to find restless sleep. It’s become normal.
What isn’t normal is Robin leaning on the wall just outside of her door, bow in hand.
She rolls her eyes. “Just what I need. A stalker.”
“Thief, yes. Stalker, no,” he combats easily, pushing off of the wall to move closer to her. “It doesn’t take an expert to notice you roaming the halls at night.”
She’s slightly horrified that she can’t think of a good comeback. She hadn’t thought he’d notice. “Why does it matter to you?”
She immediately regrets her choice of words when she sees his face soften. Bickering, she can handle, but she doesn’t need concern. Not right now, and not from him. “I just wanted to make sure that you were alright.”
“I’m… fine,” she swallows and digs her nails into her palms.
“Somehow, I doubt you,” he says, and sarcasm drips from every word. “You know what makes me feel better?”
“Life advice from a thief? Please continue.”
He doesn’t bother to retort. “This,” he continues, gesturing toward his bow. “It calms me.”
She stares at it doubtfully. “I have magic. I don’t need sticks.”
“Perhaps not,” he smiles. “But it’s a much safer habit. Easier to control than fireballs, wouldn’t you agree?”
She would. Magic is difficult to contain, and many of her belongings had been scorched or altogether destroyed while practicing it with Rumplestiltskin. She’s very good at it now, but she still can’t go around hurling magic around as a form of release – at least not anymore.
“What are you suggesting?” she asks carefully.
He shrugs casually, as if it doesn’t matter to him either way. “That you let me teach you. See if you can make a few good shots.”
She scoffs. “Teach me?”
“Yes,” he is unwavering in his confidence. “If you don’t feel the tiniest bit better by the time dawn breaks, I’ll be in your debt. If you do, then I’ll be happy to know that I proved you wrong.”
She tilts her chin up defiantly. “You have a deal.”
Robin doesn’t take her too far out – Zelena is out there somewhere, and her flying monkeys are still a threat. It doesn’t really matter, because as soon as they reach the forest, she can see the change in Robin’s whole body. He truly is in his element out here. This is his haven, his peaceful place, and she admires it. She wishes she could find solace in anything.
When they’ve gotten far enough, he tells her to stop. He sets the target up and moves the arrow into the rest before showing her where it would be best to stand.
He’s standing behind her now and guides her hands to hold it correctly – placing her left hand on the front of the bow, her right on just the right spot for the string, and it feels like electricity is coursing through his hands, his touch seeming to send little shock waves. She closes her eyes for a moment and thinks about how absurd that is.
He drops the hand that was holding hers on the front of the bow, but their two hands are still together on the string. Her heartbeat sounds so loud to her own ears. Thud, thud, thud. She wonders if he can hear it. “Let go,” he says quietly, and they both release the string as the arrow flies into the air.
It lands on yellow, in the very center. She can’t help but be astounded.
She wants to insult him, if only to distract from the strange feeling in her stomach. But she can’t muster a single damn insult. They all die in her throat.
She turns to him and a silence follows. It’s not uncomfortable, but there’s something buzzing in the air that she can’t describe. She’s looking at him and she’s noticing – maybe not for the first time – that he has a really lovely jaw and nice stubble. And a lot of other really good features. She tries not to think about it.
And he’s looking at her, too, but it’s not the same way he looks at her when he’s brushing off her mean remarks or trying to irritate her. He’s trying to figure her out. What she’s keeping so locked up, what it is that she’s hiding, who she really is. And she wants him to know all of it – but if he does, he might not care so much. The honor that he has might not apply to her any longer.
He shifts his gaze away and nods to the bow that’s still lying in her hands. “You should try it on your own.”
She nods. Yes, that’s a much easier subject.
And she does try – again and again and again. But she’s utterly useless at it. The arrow either ends up flying in an entirely different direction, or it ends up on the ground a few feet away. It still feels so awkward in her hands. And maybe it isn’t her proudest moment, but after a few hours of failure, she ends up hurling a fireball at the grass in frustration. She manages to douse it, but not before Robin starts giggling uncontrollably. She looks at him sharply and he muffles his laughter, but a small smile remains firmly on his lips.
As she’s lining up for what feels like the thousandth time, she notices the familiar blue lighting up the sky. She starts lowering the bow, but he shakes his head and says, “Try it once more.”
She sighs and wonders why she’s taking orders from him. This time, she tries mimicking what he’d made her do in the first shot. Where she’d stood, how she’d placed her feet, how far he’d held the string back. She thinks that she has it just right when he speaks.
“Focus, Regina. You can do this.”
She listens to him and stares so hard at the target that her eyes blur. Then, she lets it go gently, and it twirls beautifully in the air before landing.
On the outer ring of blue. It’s not great, but it’s enough.
She’s probably smiling wider than she should, but she can’t help but turn and say, “I made a shot!”
He grins at her. “Good one, too.”
Maybe it’s because he’s so kind and giving. Or maybe it’s because the damn thing actually landed. Either way, she does something completely ridiculous. She runs over and hugs him.
He hugs her back firmly. His body is solid and the warmth radiating from him is incredible, but this is not a good idea. Not even remotely, not even a smidgen, but she can’t bring herself to care. When she breaks away, they are still grinning at each other. And it’s strange, but it’s wonderful, and she doesn’t want to forget it.
“You have such a lovely smile.”
His eyes are sparkling and he says it as if she’s really something to behold. It knocks the breath out of her entirely, and she can’t help but think that she could get lost in this forest with him and never need a map.
She feels like a teenager again, everything so vivid and alive. And then she thinks of Daniel, and Henry, and everyone she’d ever tried to care about. Love was never meant for her.
“We should head back,” she notes. “It’s morning.”
She tries not to notice the look on his face. The one that tells her that he knows something has changed.
Inside, things are so quiet. She feels regret seeping out of her in waves, thick and unwanted.
He doesn’t know her. He can’t put his faith in her, he can’t fill her head with hopes and dreams that she’d given up long ago. She’s just outside of her door now, her back turned to him as she tries to sort it out. What to say to him, what to do to get him to back off. To decide that she’s more trouble than she’s worth and to stop trying.
But she can’t just go into her bedroom and ignore him. She can’t just throw insults his way and pretend that he isn’t worth the dirt on the bottom of her shoe. She’s never felt that way.
There’s something lingering in the air again. There’s too much that they both want to say, and she thinks that if she takes one more step, her heart will break.
So, she doesn’t. Instead, she turns around.
“You proved the Evil Queen wrong,” she allows herself a tiny smile.
“No,” he replies. “I proved Regina wrong.”
“How would you know the difference?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I just do.”
And it’s that simple. He’s all heart and instincts, forgiving her before he even knows what she’s done. It’s always been harder for her. In this castle, she still feels like the Evil Queen – maybe not as ruthless or as cruel, but she still guards her heart like it’s all that she has. And it is.
That’s why she tried burying her heart. To protect it from anything.
She’s not doing a very good job of it now, because Robin is looking at her so intensely that she has a hard time looking back.
“You don’t know me,” she says firmly.
“I want to,” he counters. “If you’d let me.”
Once again, there is something about him. How genuine he is, how honest. How much he tries.
It hurts that he’s trying so hard, because she doesn’t want to hurt him. And she knows, she just knows, that he will get hurt somehow. They always do. And once again, she’ll be left helpless at the hands of death or distance or circumstance. She can’t do it again. She won’t.
But something in her is breaking down. Because the last thing she wants to do is resist him.
She holds her hands up in defense. Of what, she’s not sure anymore. “You don’t understand the things that I’ve done, the things that happen to the people around me. It’s all terrible,” she swallows and looks down at the floor. “You don’t want to be a part of this.”
He’s smiling and he still won’t take his eyes off of her. Her words have changed nothing, and she’s surprised to find that she only feels relief.
“I can handle it,” he says, and the same confidence that he always exudes is evident in his voice. “I believe in you, Regina.”
She shatters completely. And now she’s walking over to him, and her lips have collided into his without a second thought. His lips are soft and he slides his hands into her hair as she winds hers around his back.
It only feels like it’s been a moment, but when they break away, she’s gasping for breath.
As they stand there, panting, she watches his shoulders heave and sees the hunger in his eyes. Immediately, she knows that they aren’t finished yet. He pulls her to him, but instead of the fast, frantic pace that they’d set earlier, it’s slow and gentle. Everything about it is intimate, and she feels certain that she’s never been kissed like this before.
His hands find their way to her hips and slide underneath her shirt. Once again, she feels a spark from his fingers as they trail on the bare skin of her back. His touch is warm and delicious, and she bites back a moan.
She’s let this go too far, but it still takes every ounce of her strength to pull away.
“I should, uh… everyone will be up soon,” she stumbles, but suddenly his forehead is resting against hers and his hands are flush against her hips, and she feels dizzy in the most wonderful way.
He licks his lips, and she can’t help but make a noise because that isn’t fair. At all.
“Okay. You can go,” he whispers huskily, but she can tell by the sly smile on his face that he knows she won’t leave as long as he has his hands on her.
“I’m going to go to bed. Now,” she says. She takes his hands and pushes them to his sides gently, moving away from him.
“Want me to come with you?” he arches an eyebrow.
“You’ll have to try harder than that, thief,” she teases.
“Oh, you have no idea what I’m capable of, darling.”
She bites her lip. Maybe she shouldn’t have taunted him, because the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice gives her some very interesting ideas. And taking him to bed is becoming more tempting every second.
“I’ll hold you to that,” she replies instead. Then she opens her door, steps inside and closes it back before she does something really irrational. She sinks against the door and tries to quiet her heart, tries to stop the smile that seems to spread wider and wider across her face.
Maybe she believes in second chances after all.