It takes a month of Robin engineering accidental meetings and casual encounters after the car incident for fate to grace him with a chance for the more substantial contact he craves. When opportunity comes, it comes in the shape of a letter.

Roland receives it one Monday morning, a scant two weeks after celebrating his fifth birthday. He is now very concerned that people understand he is a Big Boy, and is delighted that the post office seems to agree (what could be more grown up than to have his very own letter delivered just like daddy's?). The envelope is saved, 'Mr. Roland Locksley' emblazoned on the front, for the inspection of Little John and the Merry Men, who all concur with appropriate gravity that it is indeed a sign of newfound maturity. It's in the midst of these theatricals, Roland basking in the centre of it like a little sunflower, that Robin gets to read through the notice properly, edges a little crumpled where a young fist held on to the paper as tight as it could lest he drop it or – worse yet – his prize get left somewhere on the journey from their house to the men.

Robin looks around is suddenly thankful for Little John's sweet tooth, and his insistence on meeting in the ice-cream parlour a little further out of their way, because at one table is Henry devouring a double scoop of Rocky Road, and next to him a handbag that promises Regina's presence in the vicinity. Roland notices the object of his father's attention a second later and squeezes his way out of his circle of admirers to seize back his treasure and run over to the older boy he sees around so often.

"Henry!" he cries "I got a letter!"

Henry, it seems, is astute enough to read the air of expectant glee at this announcement and plays his part.

"Wow! You got a letter all to yourself? Can I see it?"

It's dutifully pushed forward 'Be a Buddy!' splashed over the top in stylish script.

Robin makes his way to join them as Henry begins to tell Roland about the school and how fun it is being buddies, slipping easily into a filched third chair from the adjoining table."You know of this then?" he asks, "It's not a new thing?"

"Nah, they do it every year," Henry replies easily. "There aren't enough children for two schools here, but the new kids are really little and it's hard with everyone in the schoolyard" he leans forward, man to man, and whispers "They cry a lot the first day". Robin hides the crook of his lips and gives him a silent 'Ah' and a nod of understanding. Leaning back Henry continues in a normal tone, "My mom didn't like it my first day so the next year they did this thing where the bigger kids go play with the little ones in the summer, then the first week they all wait for them at the entrance and help them out, so everyone isn't new you know? They have a friend already"

It makes a lot of sense. Robin wonders (only half in jest) if they have a similar support group for abandoned parents letting go of their children for the first time. Roland is an adventurer at heart, he has no doubt he'll take to school like a bird to flight, but the thought of saying goodbye to his little man, to the passage of time it represents, makes his chest ache in a odd sort of way.

"-and maybe we'll get paired up!"

The Hood men both jerk to attention, matching gleams in their eyes.

"Really?!" Roland's excitement distracts from the calculation Robin needs to hide before he's able to casually interject; "You're doing this too?"

Henry gives him a grin and scoops up some more ice-cream, "I'm one of the buddies, I do it every year", his enthusiasm wanes slightly as he spoons the treat into his mouth, a small frown puckering at his forehead. Robin watches him a moment and then looks at Roland with a cheerful "You best go get your ice-cream! Go ask Little John to order, I'm sure he's ready for seconds". Roland scampers to his task, leaving the two of them alone.

"Something bothering you lad?" he says in a quieter rumble. Henry gives him a weighing stare, seemingly unsure if he wants to share, but this man has always been friendly to them, and how many people was that true of since the curse broke? Robin gives him the time he needs, before Henry finally sighs and confesses.

"Mom usually calls the school to tell them I want to do this," he motions to the paper, "but this year when she called she started whispering down the phone so I couldn't hear, and she looked angry". He breaks off, troubled, and Robin gives him a noise of encouragement. "People are really angry at her because of the curse; I know it was a terrible thing and they don't trust her, but I think they're giving her a hard time about me taking part. But she knows I like it, and I tried telling her it was fine, but she said she would sort it out and told me to wait here and look after her things"

It's easy to forget how much little eyes see, Robin muses. He should expect no less from this precocious boy.

He gives Henry a reassuring pat to the shoulder. "Not to worry, I'm heading that way myself to sort out Roland's part, I'll make sure things get sorted out" he promises. Henry seems relieved, and asks him to watch his mom's bag for him before he leaves so he can run to the bathroom. Never one to miss a God-given opportunity he agrees readily, taking the chance to sneak the figure of a curled up fox, short bristled nose tucked snugly into its tail as it sleeps, into the small zippered compartment on the outside of the purse.

Henry returns and sees nothing amiss. Making his farewells Robin exchanges a few words with the men before leaving Roland to enjoy his dessert and heading for the school.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Ah, not too late a grin sweeps unbidden over his face as he spies her trim pantsuit and glossy black hair through the glass archway ahead of him, it seems he isn't the only one with school business this morning. A short exchange at the entry desk has him heading at an easy stride towards her. It's not until he's closer that her voice registers through the slightly ajar swinging doors, low-pitched but unmistakably angry it's easier to make out now over the muffled sounds of teaching beyond.

"I hardly think it would appropriate for you to-"

"We've signed up for the past four years and there has never been any-"

"Ms. Mills, you can't seriously believe we would allow you-"

"That's Madam Mayor to you, and if you think for one second-"

This second girl at the reception is an unfortunate looking creature, not helped by the unflattering chartreuse of her blouse. She's curling her lip in a sneer at the woman leaning over her raised desk, and Robin takes a moment to admire this rather impressive display of foolishness. Whatever else Regina may or may not be she ruled the Enchanted Forest a long time, and you don't survive long in any court without learning to eviscerate – with or without magic – when the occasion calls for it.

The occasion would seem to call for it. He decides to take the less conspicuous location of a seat on one of the plastic chairs lining this area of the corridor. One of the girls from the entrance approaches the doors only to double back immediately, message still clutched in her hand. They exchange a glance of understanding, he is his chair and she heading the opposite direction, apparently some people still had a healthy respect for the temper of their rediscovered queen. This new position gives him a fair view of her face and she's in fine fettle. Colour heightened and eyes sparking like black stars, he thinks, not for the first time, how well she wears it. This isn't the anger of her misery, drawn tight over whitened features, nor the clawing beast of burden to hold back when rage surges; this is good, healthy slug of feeling heating through her and he wonders if she realises that the one thing she doesn't appear struggling with at this moment is her control over her magic.

The undertone is escalating rapidly to tone. The girl by the door takes a brief look towards them and makes a subtle adjustment to the volume level of the music they have playing in a futile attempt to cover the growing noise.

"I wrote those regulations you're misquoting, so stop babbling to me when you know damn well you have no way of stopping me from signing my son up. Furthermore-" a curt hand motion circumvents whatever the misguided girl behind the desk was trying interrupt with, "if you don't like the fact that I am demanding that Henry be included in this school activity then perhaps it's time for the Mayor's Office to look into alternative staffing options within this school's administration"

The women glare at each other silently for an extended moment, one stubborn, the other promising retribution. Finally, the other woman drops her eyes and begins to angrily type into the computer in front of her. The hard tap of keys is the only sound between them for a long minute as the details are taken care of. Task complete, the receptionist squares back off with Regina and fairly spits out the words "There. You're registered, we'll call you". Regina responds with a sneer of her own, but whatever rejoinder she may have had goes unheard as her opponent is not finished. "For all the good it will do you! I may not have a choice over your registration but the other parents have a right to say no, and if you think anyone is going to entrust the safety of their child to the Evil Queen and her freakish brat-"

Too far.

Robin is half out of his chair and Regina's hand half up in the air to – slap the woman's face? Grab her and shake her like a terrier with a rat between its teeth? A war of possibilities flashes over her features; Henry is a raw area even now their relationship is mending, and Regina looks very much like she'd like to jab those carefully manicured fingernails into some tender places for the insolence.

The shrill tone of a cell phone pierces the scene. Everybody freezes, the tension thickening the blood in their ears as the phone rings on. After what feels like an hour but must only be a second, Regina lowers her hand to take the sleek rectangle from her pocket. She answers it with a terse "Yes" and mouths 'this isn't over' to the suddenly not-so-proud looking figure shrinking into her seat. She seems to have now remembered she's been teasing a tiger by the tail.

He sinks back down and Regina sweeps out, her fury unknowingly propelling her past him down the hall. The swift staccato of her shoes is unsatisfying muffled by the pink-grey industrial carpeting as she marches out. He considers following her, but decides instead to take care of this bit of business (and this bit of baggage at the desk) first.

He takes a breath to relax his muscles and prepare a casual smile for the lady (however ill-fitting that term may be) inside, and makes himself wait a short while before entering. His arrival prompts her (D. Tremaine, the nameplate next to her announces self-importantly) to straighten her pose and flutter a hand over her hair. The smile she gives him tries for sweet, as if she hadn't been hurling insults just minutes before, but it reminds him all at once of the poppy syrup the healer gave me when he broke his arm; sickly with an undertone of decay.

"Good Morning, can I help you?"

"Yes," Robin replies smoothly, ignoring the new breathy quality to her voice, "my son received this in the post and I would like to register him," he draws the letter carefully from his pocket and passes it over

"Ah, yes of course," she simpers "it's such a wonderful programme for the new ones". She takes his information far more politely and enters it into her computer. "You'll be called with the name of your child's buddy once the sign-up period ends," an imperceptible pause as her eyes slide over to door the mayor has just stormed out of "however you do have the right to request a transfer should you have any concerns about the person you've been matched up with." She takes a pen from her drawer and reaches for the letter "In fact, why don't I write my personal number on here just in case you need to discuss it outside of school hours."

He whisks it out of her reach before she can set ink to paper. "That won't be necessary; I actually have somebody in mind already." Her smile falters at his rebuff, but recovers itself as he leans closer and asks "I don't suppose that would be something you could help me with?" She preens at his attention and assures him, of, course, that she would be delighted to help.

"Excellent, our boys have already met so I think Roland would be happy to spend more time with them"

She nods "Such a considerate thing to do, if I could just take the name...?"

"Certainly, it's Regina Mills, her son's name is Henry" he looks directly into her eyes, voice cool "I'm sure you've heard of them".

Ms. Tremaine's expression turns brittle, then disintegrates altogether. The "What!" comes out more of a squawk than a word.

"Do you need me to spell that for you?" Robin inquires mildly.

"You can't seriously want to give your child over to that-"

He raises a single eyebrow, his stare daring her to finish. "That...?" he prompts silkily. She takes a heavy breath, but not the dare. Biting back her insult, she tries again more calmly. "She was the Evil Queen" she tells him, as if that should explain everything, but an unconcerned wave of his hand brushes the fact away.

"Yes, well, we all have our stories. I understand Ms. Ashley Boyd will be homeschooling when the time comes?"

She gasps, flushing a deep puce at the mention of her step-sister. Point made Robin turns and saunters back towards the corridor. Just before disappearing he turns back, an affable expression pasted to his face.

"Be sure not to forget to call Ms. Mills and let her know"

There's a choking sound as he moves away, as if the woman behind him had swallowed something unexpectedly unpleasant. Grinning to himself he heads to the exit, he nods a goodbye to the greeter as he signs himself out. She seems to be holding back her laughter. He notices in the same instant that the music playing earlier has been switched off; it seems he isn't the only one with a robust dislike for the person in the other room.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Leaving the school, he heads not towards the main street but further to the outskirts of their community. The streets are less well cared for here on the edges; houses emptied since the curse broke as people drew closer in, not wanting to risk accidentally hitting the boundaries of the town. It's a good place to get away during the busy summer hours, if you don't mind the neglected air, a good place to cool the blade of your temper away from the eyes of others. When Regina first comes into sight her back is straight as an arrow, shoulders stiff, and those heels drum a steady-paced clack clack clack into the pavement, the ground-eating strides unburdened by their height.

He trails her awhile, not wanting to disturb her as she simmers herself down. It's important that she realise she can do this without disaster. Eventually the pace slackens, slows, and brings her to a stop on a bench on the edge of a disused park. He walks slowly to meet her, and while she doesn't seem thrilled she doesn't outright object when he joins her, both of them content to sit in silence a while.

By and by she looks calmer, more ready to interact, and he turns his face to hers.

"I've come to deliver the good news" he tells her, and that gets her attention, she shakes her head slightly in a silent 'What?' motion, and Robin continues. "It seems Roland and Henry have been paired up for this friendship programme at school. I hope you don't mind me requesting it but with Roland already knowing him and all..."

Regina's jaw drops a little. Whatever she's thinking doesn't form and Robin feels a distinct tickle of pleasure at having rendered his queen speechless.

"I'm sure you can expect a call from the lovely lady at the desk to tell you herself, though you may have to give her a few hours to swallow the slice of humble pie I handed her first.

Her open mouth pulls up at the edges, it's a black-edged kind of humour perhaps, but under it a glimpse of relief that she doesn't have to disappoint her son. The laugh she gives is short, escaping unintended, but it unwinds the last of the tension from her shoulders.

"How is it you always seem to show up right where you shouldn't be?" the question doesn't hold the anger, but rather a faintly exasperated resignation. Not quite the stuff dreams are made of, but encouraging enough that he gives her a rascally smirk

"Hazard of the trade, once a thief and so on"

She bites her lip but can't hide the upturned corners of her eyes that betray her amusement. He doesn't want that to disappear but needs to tell her.

"She shouldn't have said that"

The humour vanishes as Regina sighs, and it's so tired. "For all my anger, I can't really blame her" a pause, and then under her breath, "Even if she is a hatchet-faced paper pusher".

That makes him laugh outright, earning him a sideways look from his companion.

Sobering, he continues; "Yes, you've done some bad things, and yes, it's going to take some people longer than others to see the good in you, but your decisions were your own and not Henry's. She shouldn't have said that"

The objection she was going to make at the phrase 'good in you' disappears. She considers a moment to herself and then meets his eye.

"No, she shouldn't have"

She thinks for a minute, considering, and he can tell from the movement in the corner of his eye that she's studying him as he pretends to be absorbed in the skyline. After a few minutes she seems to give herself a little shake, at this point he's seen her at worse times than this and she plunges ahead.

"I didn't use magic" she tells him.

"I saw" he agrees, "Though I did think at one point you were going to hit her"

"At one point I was going to"

"Not that she hadn't given you cause, mind you" his eyes find hers again; "I told you before, it's not about the impulses it's about the actions. Nearly doesn't count"

He lets that sink in and then stands up, offering his arm in an old-fashioned gallantry.

"I'm heading back to the ice-cream shop to get Roland before he eats them out of chocolate fudge, I take it you're heading back to tell Henry?" She hesitates, and then nods her assent. The thought of Henry makes her feel lighter, he'll be so glad not to miss his back to school tradition.

"Allow me to escort you my lady?"

She checks his expression, but there's no hint of mocking in his face. He's never mocked her, not any time she's seen him. Making her decision, she stands before she can change her mind, giving him a fierce, bright smile that comes so rarely and is so happily blinding in its realness.

"I do believe I would be willing to consider such a request, Sir" she says, placing her arm in the crook of his elbow.

They move forward, both of them now happy for entirely different reasons.