Sorry for the wait guys. Here, have a sweet little update. Also, if you follow me on tumblr, I posted a few little snippets that I'd cut from previous chapters to tide people over between updates. The next chapter should be longer with a little dimples queen, a little outlaw queen (obviously), and a little of that nasty old Leo.

He doesn't sleep. How could he? No, instead he watches her, listens to her deep breaths, memorizes the feeling of warm air puffing against his neck as she slumbers. She doesn't usually shift much in sleep, stays very still, but tonight is different. Tonight she has been twisting, legs kicking, little whimpers spilling past her lips.

He whispers her name every time it starts, a mixture of promise and comfort in the single word, but it doesn't wake her. Sometimes it stops her shifting, has her shallow breaths going deep and relaxed once more, but other times he has to drop a kiss to her forehead, holding her close, and somewhere in her subconscious she must realize she is safe because the whimpering stops and she nuzzles impossibly closer.

The affection he feels for this woman has his heart swelling, full and heavy in his chest. If he is completely honest he has felt this way for awhile, had realized soon after he met her, but Robin isn't a fool, he isn't a complete sap, and believing that he could love a woman so immediately, well, he didn't. He was certain it was infatuation, adoration, attraction and chemistry and perhaps it was, but it isn't anymore. No. He loves her.

He loves Regina Mills.

And he is going to make sure she knows. After last night he feels a desperate need to let her know how he feels for her. That his feelings are real, that what they have is real, and not some passing fling. He thinks she knows that already, but he needs to tell her, needs to speak the words, and then, then they'll move forward from this together.

She looks content, ethereal in the soft moonlight filtering in through the window, and he can almost fool himself into thinking that they don't have a problem in the world, that she isn't his student, that Professor Leopold doesn't exist, that they can stay like this, wrapped in each other's arms for a serene eternity.

But they can't, her lip is swollen and purple, a glaring reminder of that man and what he'd tried to do, and Robin can feel the rage swell in his heart, his jaw tense, his fists clench. That hurts, his right fist is tight and sore, but the feeling is welcome, almost pleasurable when he thinks of the old bastard's face, remembers the feeling of bone and cartilage breaking beneath his knuckles.

Regina stirs beside him, her back arching, and her nose scrunching. How she can look so adorable and sexy all at once has the corner of his mouth lifting, Leopold fading quickly from his mind, replaced by her, by Regina.

Her eyelids flutter, dark lashes tickling against his skin, and the arm he has circling her body pulls her a little closer, protectively, as his lips once more press affectionately against her head, sinking into her hair.

"Mmm, Robin?"

She knows it's him, but it still sounds like a question, so he takes a deep breath, inhales the scent he has come to associate with her and her alone, and tells her, "Yes, Love. I'm here."

He wants to talk. He can't sleep anyway, and he wants to discuss things, wants to share his feelings for her, wants to protect her and deal with this situation they've found themselves pulled into, but he won't begrudge her sleep. She needs it, but then she is lifting, her shoulders rising, and her eyes are wide, alert, as she gazes down at him.

"It was real." Her voice rustles, cracks slightly on that last word, on her conscious recollection. He answers her with a nod, a frown and tilt of his head, and oh how he wishes he could say it was all a dream, how he wishes it had been. He loathes that she'll have memories of whatever happened to her for the rest of her life, bogging her down, creeping into her mind. He hates that, and he hates the man responsible, and he hates himself for not preventing it, for not insisting he go with her that evening, or that she not go at all.

They stay like that for awhile. Her eyes staring at his chin, or maybe his neck, and he can't take it, can't accept the silence, can't accept what that man has done. "Regina," he lifts a hand to her chin slowly, cautiously, but she doesn't tense so he frames her jaw with his hand, coasts his thumb back and forth beneath her mouth, "We should contact the police."

Her eyes find his then, alarmed, and her mouth opens, her jaw dropping slightly. He can't quite comprehend her shock, can't understand why she wouldn't be thinking the same thing, but then it becomes clear with her next words.

"He knows about us." She says aghast, and he realizes immediately that she is trying to protect him, that she is afraid for him, for his career, and how this predicament could affect his life.

It isn't like he hasn't thought about it himself. After all, he'd declared his love for Regina to Professor Leopold's face hours ago. The man knows, and the old lech will likely use the knowledge against them both, but Robin finds he doesn't care. He loves her, and he has lived enough to know what is important in life, what really matters. Regina is one of those things. Regina matters far more than his job. He can find something else if need be, but Leopold should suffer for what he has done, he should be punished, and Robin plans on seeing to that.

He shifts, sits up, drops his hand from her face to grasp and tangle their fingers, "Regina," he exhales, searches her face, those dark expressive eyes he finds himself drowning in, "I love you." She freezes at that, her eyebrows lifting slightly before she blinks, tilts her head, and he repeats, "I love you".

Her lips turn up at the corners, a watery smile slowly tugging at her features, and then she licks her lip, that swollen lip, and looks down at their hands before breathing out, "You do?"

She meets his gaze again, dark eyes swirling with emotions piercing his soul with the doubt that is audible in her rustling voice, "Yes, Regina," his hand lifts, gliding up her arm, coming to rest above her shoulder, tracing circles against her neck, "I love you, and I don't care if that man," he spits out the word, "exposes our relationship. I'll accept any punishment the board deems necessary, but I refuse to let him harm you with no repercussions."

She sighs, her head shaking nearly imperceptibly before her hand covers his, halting the motion of his thumb when she says, "I got away, and from the looks of it," her eyes fall to his right hand, still bandaged and resting against the mattress, "the man has already suffered some repercussions."

He is about to protest, the words 'not enough' hanging on his tongue, but she leans forward, drops a soft kiss to his mouth, and it feels different, a little wetter than usual, a little plumper because of the swelling, but it still has the same affect her kisses always do. His body calms, shoulders relax and bend towards her, and then she leans away, a few inches dividing their lips when her hands lift to frame his face.

"I won't let you suffer because of me. I won't let you jeopardize your career because of a swollen lip and bruised knee."

"Regina-"

"No, Robin." She breathes, looks nervous, and her tongue peeks through her lips before sinking back behind her white teeth. "I love you." The declaration leaves her mouth abruptly, and he hadn't needed her to say it back, well, he hadn't thought he needed it, but now that she has he doesn't think he could ever live without it again, without hearing those words from her lips, her velvety voice. "You," she scoffs out a laugh, "you are like everything that is good and virtuous in this world, Robin. I won't let this change that. I won't let him take more than he already has."

He disagrees, but he won't push her, not now, so instead he asks her to tell him - if she feels comfortable - to tell him what happened at 9:00 last night in that man's office because he finds himself desperate for the knowledge, yet terrified simultaneously. She takes a deep breath, heaves out a heavy sigh, and then she tells all, lets it spill from her mouth like a fountain, like somehow letting it leave her lips, letting it tumble out of her and into the expanse of air between them will take away the memories, will exorcise the demons.

It won't. He knows as much, and so does she, but she won't suffer it alone. He listens to every word, lightly caresses her thigh through the retelling of the entire ordeal, and then he holds her close, tries to keep the anger and tension coursing through his veins from showing, from boiling up and up until he can't stop himself from running from her arms to kill that man, to watch the life leave his eyes.

Regina thinks he is good, thinks that he is above such murderous intentions. He won't act on them, he knows as much, so maybe he is 'good' in some way, but he is not righteous, and he needs her to know that, needs her to know that he is no better than her. In fact, he would say she is far better than him, that she has no idea how 'good' she is, how much she deserves.

He swears in that moment, as she falls asleep once more in his arms, he swears to himself that he will spend the rest of his days convincing Regina Mills that she is worthy of all the good life has to offer, that she is worthy of everything and more; that she is worthy.