Here we go! Last chapter!

Thanks so much to everyone who stuck it out with me in this story even though it was so delayed and went on well after Christmas, I'm so glad you felt it was worth it to keep reading and continue to support my writing.

I'll be focusing on Tethered and a couple of Madam President verse prompts I have, as well as my piece for the OQ Valentine's Day Gift Exchange project AND my new AU, which should be coming very, very soon!

As always leave a review and tell me what you thought of the chapter. Hope you all enjoy!

Taking the evening off was a bad idea.

Tink had insisted, though, had told him she'd take care of dinner and bedtime with Roland so that Robin could have some time to breathe and relax. Except he's been doing everything but that.

It's torture just thinking about it, about the way Regina had just walked away from him after telling him she wanted no part of whatever it was that was brewing between them. And he knows, he knows she's doing this to protect him, but he can't force her to explore their connection, and he won't convince her to give them a chance when she's so hellbent on putting distance between them.

Still, he'd decided to fight for her, for them, to track her down after a few days of grace and talk to her until she admitted the real reason behind her hesitance. He would soothe her with kisses and tell her he'd want nothing more than she can give.

And then that photo had been posted.

He'd spent the whole day trying to make sense of things, to find a way to get her to understand that he was all in, and then the alert he'd embarrassingly put into his phone for articles about Regina had gone off on his phone, showing him the image that had broken his heart completely.

Walsh, grinning and looking so very pleased with himself. Regina, happy and latched onto his side, her lips puckered in a kiss against his cheek. The caption reads Christmas in Storybrooke, and the comments are all from fans celebrating their reunion, asking for details on a future wedding, demanding that Walsh upload even more photos of them together.

Robin has never felt so used.

It's clear now, she never wanted to be with him, he was just a distraction to her, and that's fine, they never agreed to be exclusive, he just has to give up now and stop trying to make something happen when Regina is clearly taken.

It's like ice is piercing his heart, the cold pain of it embedding itself in his skin, his soul, and the urge he has to cry out in anger dwindles into desolation, into acceptance that he's lost, that he'll never have her back. It's over.

He drinks himself into a stupor, drowning his sorrows like the pathetic sod that he is, and stumbles into the couch in the living room of the Sherwood, passing out almost instantly.

He hears voices, whispers from his sister and... John?

Great, now Regina will surely hear of his blatant display of stupidity.

Sighing his frustration, Robin opens his eyes (regrets that decision immediately, his hangover sledgehammering away at his head), finding no one in his line of sight. They're in the kitchen, he realizes, talking in hushed tones and discussing everything that's happened today.

"I cannot believe she had the gall to do something like this," Tink says.

"I'm sure she had her reasons," John defends.

"Reasons?! She toyed with my brother's feelings! Made him think there was more between them than some fling and now she's back with that... that charlatan?!" Tink responds, bristled, and Robin knows that tone of voice well. John will get yelled at in no time if he's not careful.

Robin sighs again. He really, really doesn't want to hear about this.

Looking down at his wrists with scrunched eyes, he sees he's only been asleep for a couple of hours. It's still fairly early (how did he ever think getting drunk before it's even dinnertime was a good idea?), but he has no desire to engage them, or to even acknowledge how he feels right now, so instead of alerting him to the end of his drunken nap, he rolls out of the couch and slowly makes his way out of the living room, dragging one of the cushions with him, though he has no idea why.

After he's brushed his teeth and washed his face to deem himself somewhat presentable, the tired haze of drink and sleep still clouds his vision. He's bleary-eyed and tired, and everything looks foggy, like it's somehow part of a dream rather than the painful reality he's currently living in, but he notices things, little things, that tell him he's definitely awake, that this is all definitely real.

Like the magazine in the foyer, for example, with Regina's face on the front page. He remembers them both looking through the spread, laughing and flirting while an oblivious Roland pointed out his favorite images in the photoshoot.

God, he misses her. And it's ridiculous, they had one night together, how can he be pinning so much for someone he so recently befriended? Someone who three weeks ago was getting on his last nerve when she'd walked into that bakery and treated him like a servant?

But she'd also apologized later, blushed prettily as she admitted her screw-up, and that is what Robin remembers most of the entire altercation, how beautiful she'd looked as she sheepishly asked for his forgiveness, how her smile had reached her eyes at last when he'd offer to start over...

Tomorrow is Christmas Eve, he tells himself. It'll be over. They wrap her movie early in the morning, and then she'll go home to LA and they can both forget about each other, about the promise of spending this holiday together, of exploring what was flourishing between them.

Tomorrow it all ends, and he can go back to a life that no longer feels as fulfilling as it once did.

But he'll have to make do. He'll take comfort in time spent with his son, in the affection he has for this town, for its people. And little by little, Robin knows he'll find his routine again, just as he desired the moment Regina arrived in Storybrooke. The thought would give him comfort if he hadn't grown addicted to her particular brand of interruption.

A growl disrupts his thoughts, and it takes him a few seconds in his haze to realize that it came from his stomach. Right. Food. He should grab something before he goes to bed.

Except Tink and John are still talking in the kitchen, and when he walks back in and they notice his state, his sister throws a disapproving glance his way.

"Not now, sis," he begs. "Please, just leave me be."

"Ah, but where's the fun in that?" she answers, sarcasm dripping into her every word before she rails on him. "What the hell were you thinking, Robin?!"

"You told me I could have a night off—" he starts, but her ire interrupts him.

"Yes, to think! To process! Not to down every bottle of whiskey in town!"

"Stop exaggerating," Robin intervenes. "And besides, I'm fine. Just a bit of a headache, but that will go away once I eat, so if you would kindly step away from the fridge, I'd appreciate it."

She stays quiet, but glares at him as she moves. John has said nothing, sitting quietly in one of the stools by the counter as he watches the scene unfold, and Robin cannot stand feeling the man's eyes on him.

"You have something to say?" he throws at him, standing between the fridge and its open door, looking at the contents instead of directly at John.

"I'm sorry," is all he says. "I wish things had worked out with you guys."

Oh.

"Thanks," answers Robin, doing nothing to hide the surprise in his tone.

"For what it's worth, I really do think she cares for you," John says just as Robin is pulling out some cold cuts to snack on.

He scoffs at John, biting into an olive and closing the fridge door with a kick that may have been just a little too rough.

"Watch it!" Tink warns. "The fridge didn't break your heart, Regina did."

The mention of her name pierces through him, a needle in the already bleeding wound of his soul as he catches his sister's wince at her own words, Robin straightens, grabs his food with defiance, and walks away.

And then the food almost falls to the floor. Because there, on the inn's foyer, is Regina, covered in snow and smiling tearily at him.

Robin is shocked, to say the least.

The small tray of cheese and prosciutto he'd grabbed to feed himself is now abandoned on the coffee table, his hunger and hangover both forgotten, and he can't utter anything beyond a shocked whisper of "Regina?"

"Hi," is all she says, then looks behind him at John and Tink and requests, "Can we speak in private?"

"I'm surprised you want privacy, considering all you've done publicly," Tink fires her way, and that jumpstarts Robin into action, or at the very least, makes him turn around and give his sister a look.

"Come on, Sprite," John says then, sensing the tension in the room. "Let's go check on the kid."

He half-drags her out of the room, leaving Robin alone with Regina, and he should be angry, should be throwing backhanded comments her way just like his sister just did, but all he can do instead is drink in the sight of her, stare and stare as he commits every part of her to memory, knowing it'll be the last time she's ever in his presence.

"So?" he asks, and she opens and closes her mouth several times, trying to find the words.

"I—" she starts, but he interrupts.

"I know," he informs her. "You're sorry."

"No, that's... I mean, yes, of course, I'm very sorry for everything that's happened, for what you had to endure with those reporters, but that's not why I came here."

"Then why are you here?" Robin asks, and watches as she takes a deep breath, her hands lacing together in front of her.

"I realized something today," she says nervously, and he frowns, waiting for her to continue.

"All this time, I've been running away, refusing to truly embrace things between us because I couldn't bear the thought of losing someone else. But... I want this, Robin. I want you."

She smiles expectantly, exhales loudly and looks at him with this spark in her eyes, like he's about to surrender to her charms and accept being a second course in the endless meal of her affections.

"Say something, please," she requests, when his silence has stretched on for several seconds, and Robin sighs, already so tired of all this.

"What are you really doing here, Regina?" he asks, one hand rising and settling on the back of his neck, scratching there as he waits for her answer.

"I told you," she insists, "I'm here for you."

"You want no part of me in your life, you were very clear about that just a few days ago."

"I... changed my mind," she says, "and I realize that sounds like the actions of a spoiled girl on a whim but—"

"You have some nerve," he snaps. "You barge into this town, bending everything to your will, you charm me and my son, deceive us into thinking you might want more than just..." he trails off, frustrated, the hand on his nape moving to his face, rubbing it up and down as he tries to calm his latent anger. "You used me, Regina. You used all of us, and then you come here, and have the nerve to tell me that you want me, while the whole world is celebrating your reunion with Walsh?"

She gasps, shaking her head. "Oh, no. No, no, Robin, we're—"

"I won't stand in the way of your movie, I know you're doing your last scene tomorrow in the town square, just before the festival of lights. You won't get any protesting from me, I promise, but I beg you, leave me be. Drop this pretense that you care, we both know that's not the case."

And at that, she has the gall to laugh, a breathy chuckle that is at odds with the way she looks down and shakes her head, then tells him, "Walsh and I aren't together."

Robin feels the way his heart skips a beat at the words, his breathing growing more shallow as he asks, "Excuse me?"

"That photo is not what you think. He posted it so that the photographers would follow him around and stop accosting you and Roland. He was doing me a favor, Robin."

That's... not what he expected. Though it certainly explains why the reporters suddenly stopped camping outside the Sherwood earlier today.

And he tries (god, he tries) to keep that spark of hope hidden inside him, to not let it betray him and form words he's not ready to say just yet, but it's like his heart has taken over, making him mumble, "So, what went on between us—"

"Was real," Regina cuts in, smiling as she cradles his cheek. "My feelings for you were— are real."

His hands have moved of their own accord, settling on her waist like they were meant to hold her, attracted like magnets to the shape of her body.

She's looking at him, studying his reaction as she says, "And if you'll have me, I would like to stay with you for Christmas, and attend the Snow Ball... as your date."

"Are you... are you sure?" he stutters, rendered a bumbling idiot by her beauty and the conviction in her voice.

She's nodding, tells him, "I... I don't know where this will lead, Robin. My life is... well, you've seen it. And it gets worse, with the paparazzi and the scrutiny. I fear for you, for Roland, for everyone who gets close to me, but you make me feel safe, and cherished, and brave, and... happy. I want to be happy with you."

Her statement echoes in his mind, bounces against the walls of his broken heart, mending it, sealing each of the cracks with her name as her smile makes him whole again.

Robin smiles back, feeling every bit like a silly schoolboy for the way his eyes water just a little as it finally sinks in that she wants this. Truly.

He kisses her then, crashes their mouths together and steals the breath right out of her as he hugs her, his arms winding around her to hold her tight against his body. His tongue savors her, tasting that spice, that fire that had drawn him in like a moth, burning bright in the feel of her, all soft curves and eager lips pressed against him.

"You'll stay?" he asks when they part, holding her face in his hands and running his thumbs over her cheeks to wipe away a few stray, happy tears.

Regina nods, confirms, "I'll stay. That is, if Roland and your sister are okay with it. Tink seems pretty mad."

"She'll come around once we explain about the photo," Robin assures her, grinning still.

"And you?" she asks. "Are you sure this is what you want? I'll have to go back to LA eventually, and you have a life here, we can't just abandon that. And what about Roland? What will this look like to him?"

He leans in at that, brushes the tip of her nose with his own as he brings his forehead down to hers. "It's gonna look like a messy, complicated situation," he admits, "but the best example I can set for my son is to follow my heart. To you. I'm sure of us, Regina. This is what I want."

He kisses her, tastes her lips again and the salt of the tears that coat them, his hands cradling her neck.

When they part, she's smiling up at him, and in an instant he's running outside, pulling her along with her hand held in his. Snow falls heavily as night stretches on, covering every surface with a thick curtain of white that reflects every twinkling light decorating the inn.

They're blessedly alone, and she's laughing in his arms, holding on to him as he spins them around, kicking up snow in their wake. She's still wearing her jacket and hat, but Robin himself is wearing nothing but his hoodie and jeans, and she notices, runs her hands down his arms and asks amid her laughter, "We should go back in. Aren't you cold?"

He pulls her closer, brushing the tip of his nose against hers, and the truth is that yes, he's a little chilly, but with her here, cozy and stunning and his, Robin can only smile and say "I'm alright, but you can always warm me up."

She snickers in response, but kisses him just as he desired, with heat and purpose, contrasting the soft, cold droplets of snowflakes landing on his skin and chasing away the chill that had been seeping into his body.

"So," she starts, smiling as her arms mimic his and wrap around his waist. "What are you asking Santa for this year?"

Her nose is adorably tinted in pink, her curls dusted with snowflakes, eyes deep and brown and honest in their affection for him. A vision, his every wish manifested in a swirl of wintery air and rosy cheeks. All he wants is to wake up to her, to hold her, kiss her, make love to her, to wake up on Christmas morning with her in his arms, ready for a new adventure.

"Hmm... I wouldn't be opposed to a certain fairy tale queen, naked and gorgeous in my bed," he teases, leaning in to peck her lips. "What about you?"

Regina chuckles, shaking her head, and then she thinks for a bit, as if trying to decide on her wording of her response. Robin takes advantage of the moment to look at her, take in the beauty of her, and then kisses her lips when she finally gives him her answer.

"I already have everything I need."

-THE END-