Disclaimer: I don't own Once Upon A Time or the characters therein. I just have fun with them.

Author's Note: It's been a long time coming but I wasn't entirely happy with the direction the story was going on. I had initially envisioned something much darker but whilst there will be extremely dark elements, (and relevant warnings at the start of the chapters containing those elements), the overall story has taken a somewhat more sardonic, humorous turn, and you know what? It's actually kinda more fun, so I do hope you guys enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And expect more action and the entry of Robin Hood and one or two of his merry men over the next chapter or two.

Thicker Than Blood

'A year from now you may wish you had started today.'

~ Karen Lamb ~

Tinkerbell has seen four sunrises, Regina by her side, violent slashes of colour destroying the velvet darkness overhead like drops of blood dissipating in water. Each of the cherished sunrises started the night before, moon at its highest, with Regina waking up with strangled sobs, choked screams and the retching, constant, painful retching that never allowed her to keep anything within her stomach.

Each of those nights had Tinkerbell waking up from nightmares, her seven senses on fire and that pressure always on her chest, never letting up and never letting her breathe. The easy assumption would be that it was nerves from returning here – Blue had said as much, her manner as snooty as the last time Tink had been a fairy. It was too simple an explanation. There was an unease that permeated the air, and it kept Tink close to Regina's side, even when ordered otherwise.

'I can represent the fairies down here, help them if needed, and contact you with news,' Tink had parroted what Regina had suggested earlier, and miraculously it had worked. The lines of suspicion had eased in the old fairy's face and she had agreed, demanding regular updates; updates Tinkerbell had thus far ignored – she could claim that little of note had happened, if Regina's nightly terrors and diminishing weight were discounted, as undoubtedly that bitchy old fairy would.

It was obvious that Blue didn't trust the Evil Queen, despite the sacrifices she had made. Her feelings, in fact, went considerably beyond that, bordering on loathing. The Blue Fairy made no effort to disguise the contempt on her face when she looked at the Queen, didn't hide her suspicion whenever Regina took a step, and flung her scorn if words ever left Regina's lips. Tinkerbell wouldn't have tolerated it, but for the glint in Regina's eyes that mirrored everything Blue felt tenfold yet better hid and her gentle hand that maintained calm as it rested on Tink's arm.

The discord itself surprisingly didn't bother her at all, Tinkerbell mused as she stared into the running water before her, reflecting the sky above with the darkness slowly dissolving. Her loyalty was with Regina, and when the time came, she would act accordingly. Until then, she decided to avoid the battles she could.

'You know you don't need to keep me company,' the scratchy murmur reached Tink's ears. She couldn't seem to gainsay Regina's mistrust, regardless of what she did. She'd tried a myriad of ways – comfort the first night, questions the second, pleading the third and worried annoyance the fourth. Tonight, she had opted for silence with little success.

Their companionable silence was strangely soothing, with the sounds of the beasts of the night muffled and distant. This was their own little paradise – a cocoon apart from the disgruntled, ungrateful beings that had followed Regina back to this land, their land. The magic was palpable here – soft and insubstantial like the changing of summer into autumn. It was dangerously intoxicating and Tink found herself treasuring these moments of magic, desiring more every time.

It felt like she had but blinked and the sun was rising, the near blackness of the sky melting seamlessly into cheery blue, the brushes of orange and red and pink creating a dizzying vision. They stayed together for moments longer before, with silent accord, they both made their way back to the camps.

Regina's bedding remained on the edge of the encampment closest to the running water, and Tink, with stubborn loyalty and unnecessary defiance, kept her bedding next to Regina's. This latest enclosure was considerably smaller than their first few, just enough room for all to lie without touching each other. It felt suffocating, Tink thought as she eyed the slumbering masses with overt distaste. There had been a benefit to being alone on Pan's island.

With dawn, there was stirring but the only one to make an effort to get up was Granny, who had elected to bed near them, grumbling about ungrateful spoilt kids and granddaughters who cared naught for their aging relatives. Tink smothered a giggle at the familiar rant and saw, from the corner of her eye, the corner of Regina's lips uplift the faintest.

'We need food,' Granny's voice came loud and clear, enough to wake the lightest of sleepers. Her eyes, sharp and shrewd, stared into theirs unblinking. 'Make that oaf of a prince go hunting – we need more than berries and he's done enough moping.'

'Should I use those words exactly?' Regina replied, voice smooth as silk.

'Yes, and tell him you're quoting me too,' Granny snapped back, unimpressed, before her voice settled into the familiar soto voce she commonly employed to air her grievances. 'Acting like little children and throwing tantrums…'

Regina's lips curved into a surprisingly gleeful, if vindictive smile, before she stalked over to the royal couple – of course, resting in the centre of the clearing. Tink tagged along, to ensure Regina's safety, she told herself - definitely not because this had the potential to be hilarious.

They both towered over the snoring man, still deep in an oblivious sleep. No sense of self preservation whatsoever, Tink thought. He wouldn't have lasted a night in Neverland alone. Thank the stars he had his wife and minions to ensure his longevity.

'Are you going to kick him awake?' Tink asked out of politeness, employing the same voice she had used when she had commented on how green the forest was and how the weather wasn't as pleasant as it ought to be for this season and how dreadfully glad she was for her flat shoes (and moreso for her ability to fly). As with all those times, the look Regina reserved for her dripped with fond irritation, a look Tink had seen nobody else pull of.

'It might be taken as an act of aggression,' was Regina's dry reply, having clearly already considered it. 'I'll probably be held captive,' she'd said, a certain bitterness running through the words that turned Tink's stomach.

'I'll do it then,' she'd said brightly, her wings fluttering with excitement. Before Regina could stop her (and deny it as she might, Tink saw the intention clear across her face), Tink had lifted her left foot and pushed it in forcefully into the lazy prince's stomach. She paid for it with a pained yelp that echoed his pained yelp but at least she'll remember to not lead with her toes, for the next time.

That seemed to wake the lot of them up as Granny's shouts and Regina's nightmares hadn't. But of course the Shepherd Prince's yelping would.

'Regina!' Snow's voice, shocked and astounded and horrified, carried loudly and clearly, almost as if she were deliberately announcing it to everyone within the clearing. 'How could you?'

With a long suffering sigh and a roll of the eyes, Regina countered with, 'I didn't do anything.' It was said factually and dismissively but was soundly ignored. Through the rising din of increasingly aggressive voices, Snow's voice once again cut through them. 'Oh, of course, you didn't. You're just standing over Charming to enjoy the scenery.'

Tink looked at Regina as she looked back at her. The face was white, looked bloodless, her eyes looked large and haunted, and there was a general greenish tinge (not just because they were in the middle of a forest) that warned Tink that the Queen might just throw up, there and then. With visible effort and an audible swallow, she responded. 'Snow, trust me. There is nothing about that,' said with such scorn and a vicious glare at the oaf still lying on the ground. 'That makes the scenery anything short of hideous.'

'Besides, it was me,' Tink chimed in cheerfully, finally, flexing her foot up and down which did nothing to ease the pain in her toes.

'Tink? Why would you do something like this?' Snow sounded aghast and close to tears and so damned oblivious, and, oh Merlin, the fairy just wanted to tell her to grow the hell up.

'We need food. More than just berries.' In the most matter-of-fact voice that the fairy could create, she met Snow's eyes limply and informed her. Snow's eyes fluttered dazedly, eyes wide and not entirely comprehensive. Her little mouth had fallen open and Tink had to smother another snort.

'I guess we could get some of the people to go hunting,' she turned her uncertain orbs around the campsite.

'He,' Granny aggressively pointed her finger at the prince that was still lying on the ground, mouth gaping open in seemingly permanent bewilderment. 'Needs to go hunting for food.'

'But we have other people to do that,' Snow began only to be interrupted by the unimpressed derision of the older woman.

'He needs to get off his ass and start doing something,' she retorted acerbically.

'He's the Prince and he's leading us back to the castle. And we've just lost our daughter,' Snow spluttered indignantly.

'He's not my prince,' came the unflinching reply, steely eyes gazing unfalteringly into the younger pair. 'And I've had enough of the moping, both of yours. It's time you grew up and acted like leaders, if you want to lead. Until then, you're helping the rest of us with the chores.'

She'd walked away without offering Snow any opportunity to protest, and Tink had no issue whatsoever letting the grin spread across her face. A quick glance around quickly told the fairy that Snow wouldn't be getting support against those orders from anyone, innate laziness and fear of the older woman's tongue being more than sufficient incentives to keep their mouths shut.

So, begrudgingly, with noisy grumbling and dark looks thrown in every which direction (most often in Regina's), the shepherd prince wandered off with a handful of other men to hunt for meat (the dwarves refusing point-blank). Snow, meanwhile, had taken to meandering around the campsite uncertainly. Tink had joined Regina in chopping the meagre edible vegetables they had scrounged up, admiring her neatly identical slices, as the remainder of the women foraged for further berries and nuts and the remaining men folk cleared away the campsite.

The old woman settled herself next to them, one of a handful that voluntarily veered towards the Queen but if she noticed, Tink couldn't tell. It took a minute but soon there was a small fire going, the flames too insubstantial to cast a yellow glow around anything beyond the grass and the weathered hands that tended them. She was remarkably suited to the wildness, as much as she had ever been at home in her personal diner. The flames weren't anything that would threaten even an ant, but they were sustained, and were soon surrounded by large twigs and small sticks that had the tips sharpened to a slightly more threatening point.

'We need water,' she grunted, and Tink could practically see Regina doing her best to pointedly ignore the old woman and the little fairy had to swallow back another snort. Maybe the Blue hag was right? Maybe she was spending too much time with the Evil Queen but Regina never seemed evil, she just seemed to have a sense of humour that correlated rather too well with her own, she thought.

'Maybe you're okay with the miserably lazy dwarves lounging around and complaining, but maybe I'll chat to you all day if you don't organise them,' she continued, smirking meanly at the queen, eyes glinting with malicious pleasure.

With a scowl mostly for show, and only the tiniest hint of gleeful satisfaction, Regina stood up gracefully, stalking to where the dwarves were clustered together. Her voice to carry as she relayed Granny's orders, word for word. And the clearing grew ever quieter as the noisy retaliations took place. As if seven dwarves ever had a chance against one Regina, Tink thought as she sniggered along with the observers who watched in amusement.

'Gruel's easier on a sick stomach,' Widow Lucas muttered in the midst of the commotion and Tink would have assumed it was to herself except for the sly glance she threw to Tink. Regina might choose to ignore it but she most certainly had found a friend in this woman with a weathered face and battered hands that held far more strength and canny skill than her well meaning but ditzy granddaughter could fathom. And as Tink looked at the looming trees, the stifling shadows that crowded them, that feeling of wrong wrong wrong bombarding her again, she was glad, so very glad that Regina had one other friend by her side, at least.