A/N: This was a prompt from tumblr, many thanks to SometimesAngryBlackWoman for finding it!

"We have the same luggage and didn't check the tags before we left so I'm calling you to exchange suitcases (and you also had some interesting things in your bag so I'm excited to meet you)"

All mistakes are mine!

... enjoy! And let me know what you think :)

I lost a world that other day / has anybody found?

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Venice Airport. Local time is 5PM and the temperature is 10° C, 50° F. For your safety and comfort, please remain seated with your seat belt fastened until the Captain turns off the Fasten Seat Belt sign."

Regina stopped listening and let out a huff of annoyance. It had been a hell of a flight, and all she wanted was to get to her hotel room and take a shower. She kept fidgeting with her phone, waiting for the metallic voice to say she could turn it on. She already missed her family – she had still in mind Henry's face when he had understood that she was going away, at the gate. He was only four years old, and Emma had had to drag him away to prevent him from following her.

"I'll come back soon, sweetheart"
"I'll miss you, Aunt Regina," he had said, hugging her.
"Come on, kid, let's leave your aunt to her flight, shall we?" had said her best friend Emma, taking his hand.
"But… how much time will pass?" he had asked, his lower lip trembling.
"It's only a couple of months," she tried to comfort him, fighting to keep the tears at bay. For Henry, there wasn't a clear concept of that duration.
"Mom, why can't I go with Aunt Regina?" he asked to Emma, and she caressed his head, exchanging a look with the other woman.
"She's going in Italy to work, kid," she answered.
"But I wanna go too!"
"Listen, Henry," Regina lowered down to look at him in the eyes. "I promise it will pass so fast you won't notice I'm gone, okay? And guess what," she continued, tipping his nose. "When I come back I'll bring you a gift!"
He didn't answer, but threw his arms around her neck. She sniffed slightly, untangling from his embrace, and she got up.
"Go," she urged Emma, and the blonde nodded, picking up Henry from the ground. She turned around, but couldn't avoid hearing Henry's screams – Put me down! I wanna go too! Put me down! –

She shook her head from the unpleasant memory and unfastened her belt, finally turning on the phone. She wrote a quick text to Emma – Landed! I'll call u later – and she stood up, taking her bag and her coat. She had never liked this part – the exit from the plane, with everyone pushing and trying to leave before the others. She followed the crowd towards the gates, rolling her eyes when two kids passed running.

They arrived in a large room, where the conveyor belts were, and they all stopped there, waiting for their suitcases. She took her phone from her pocket and scrolled her list of contacts. One ring, two rings, and Emma picked up.

"Hey there, Italian lady, how was the flight?"

"I feel like shit," she complained. "How's Henry?" she bit her lower lip, keeping an eye on the belt which had started working.

"Honestly? He cried all the way back from the airport, but I let him eat all the Rocky Road you bought yesterday, and now he's better," Emma answered. "He says he'll start a countdown for your return"

Regina felt her heart tighten – she loved Henry as if he was her son, and she was his godmother, for heaven's sake, she missed him already – but tried to ignore the pain.

"Don't spoil him too much," she warned. She heard Emma chuckle and answer "Got it, mama bear" before she spotted her suitcase on the bell. She quickly walked towards it, grabbed the handle and lifted it. "Honestly, I don't know if leaving you two alone –" she placed it on the ground and started pushing, the wheels doing all the job " – would be considered as an act of child neglect"

"You tell me, madam attorney"

"Very original" she answered. "I'll call you later, okay? I need to get a cab"

"Okay, have fun" laughed Emma before closing the call.

Regina dragged the suitcase towards the exit and, thankfully, there were two or three cars waiting there. She randomly chose one, and after a few words with the taxi driver – she really needed to learn some Italian, because surviving there for two months with English and Spanish was out of the question, and the locals didn't seem to make efforts in that sense – she finally relaxed against the car seat.

She pulled out her phone and called Gold, her boss, to schedule the meeting for the following day – apparently, he wasn't in Venice yet, and that would leave her a free day to visit, or just to sleep and recover from the jet lag.

§§§

Thank God, she thought one hour later, opening the door of her hotel room. Thank God, a bed!

The room was quite large and clean – obviously she would have needed an apartment for the next months, but for the first days Gold had agreed to pay a hotel room for all the team. She placed the suitcase on the bed and went straight for the shower. Her worries seemed to fade under the hot cascade, and the hotel's soap and shampoo let out a pleasant apple scent all over the bathroom. There was also a hair dryer, and she managed to transform her messy hair in something decent.

Wrapping a towel around her body, she reached for her phone and read a text from Mal – I'm landing in Venice tomorrow at 11AM, lunch is on me – then she turned towards her suitcase and opened it.

Shit.

This wasn't her suitcase.

The first thing she noticed about it was the absolute mess. A pair of shoes was packed in a corner, along with some ties and a tux. She guessed that was the tidy part, because the rest was an enormous ball of stuff and tangled clothes. She frowned, lifting a shirt – clearly the man had never picked up a flat iron. Under the shirt, there was a book for children, with vivid letters forming the title, Adventures of Little Pip. Her lips curved in a soft smile. She imagined a little boy or a little girl giving the book to their daddy to keep him company. Next to the book, a blue swimsuit and a brown leather belt. She placed these things above a pile of shirts, to discover two books, Fight Club and Poems by Emily Dickinson. She felt even more intrigued. Who was this messy father with a conflicting taste in books and a passion for swimming? She opened Fight Club. There was a date from ten years before, and as she suspected, a dedication: To my love, your Marian.

So he's married, she thought. At the middle of the book, between the pages, there was a very unusual bookmark, and she lifted her eyebrows in a disapproving way. The bookmark was a flight ticket from Venice to New York, with a date of the following month. And he had left it there in the suitcase, without keeping it safe. Shaking her head, she placed the book back in the middle of the mess, and checked the tag hanging from the handle.

Robin Locksley, there was written, a New York address and a telephone number. She picked up her phone and dialed the number, but before she could press the call button, the screen lightened up with the very same number. She pressed Accept the call and answered.

"Hello?"

§§§

When Robin had opened the suitcase, it had been the icing on the cake of a very bad day. First, the flight from New York to Venice had been long and boring. He hadn't seen his son since two weeks and he had fought with Marian during all the way from the airport to his hotel, and bless those couples that divorced and stayed friends, because they didn't seem to get along, not even after two years of separation. And then…

How could I have been so stupid not to check the tag before leaving? he thought. Of course, at that moment he had been busy at fighting with his ex-wife about their son – the only good thing she had given him.

The suitcase looked exactly like the one he owned – the one that was now somewhere in the world, hopefully in Venice, hopefully with the tag still attached to the handle.

But inside, it was an entirely different story. It clearly belonged to a woman – a very tidy woman, to begin with. Piles of silken shirts were folded next to a blue vanity case, and there were some skirts and dresses in a corner. He lifted a black towel and discovered three pairs of high heels – Jesus, how can someone walk on these things? – and a hair dryer. There were three books under the heels, Emma by Jane Austen, Shining by Stephen King, and Carol by Patricia Highsmith. He smiled slightly – a woman with such different tastes was without any doubt worth of a meeting. Next to the books, a diamond toy tiara, carefully enveloped in a piece of paper. But it was a roll of paper held together by a red ribbon which attracted his attention.

He freed it to open the paper. It was a drawing – a portrait, which depicted a woman and a man looking at each other with wide smiles on their faces. In a corner, a little scribble in black ink: Regina & Daniel, with the signature of the painter (Mary M. B.) and a date from three years before. He looked again at the woman in the portrait. It was in black and white, so he couldn't guess the color of her eyes, but she was undoubtedly beautiful. They were beautiful, and clearly in love. He thought for a second When did I look at Marian with loving eyes for the last time? and shook his head. He carefully wrapped the paper up again, tying the ribbon, and he put the roll back at its place.

He lifted some silken bras, resisting the temptation of indulging in that particular part of the luggage, and discovered a silver frame on the bottom of the suitcase, surrounded by towels and some t-shirts. There was a photo in the middle of the frame – a blonde woman with long hair, a young boy who was maybe three years old, and at his left, her arm wrapped around the kid, the same woman of the portrait. They were smiling, all wearing summer clothes, the blonde woman with a straw hat.

He smiled – they seemed to be happy, and yet, in the brunette woman's eyes there was a shadow of sadness. He placed the frame in the suitcase and finally took his phone. The handwriting on the tag was elegant and clear, and he read Regina Mills, a Boston address and her number. He dialed it, and lifted the phone to his ear. After a second, he heard her voice.

§§§

"Hello?" she answered, biting her lip.

"Regina Mills?" asked a rich voice.

"Yes"

"I'm Robin Locksley," continued the voice. "I believe you have something that belongs to me"

"I could say the same thing," she replied. "You should have checked the tag before leaving"

"Well, the same holds for you"

"Sure," she rolled her eyes. "Anyway, are you still in Venice?"

"Positive," she heard him say. "Where do you want to meet?"

"Are you asking me out for a date?" she asked and god, she was already flirting.

"Well, let's say your suitcase is asking mine out," she heard him chuckle.

"I'll have to make sure they don't misbehave, then," she laughed. "Anyway, I don't know where"

"Well, luckily I do" he answered. "Since it's seven and I'm starving, what do you say if we meet for dinner?"

"How do I know you're not a maniac?" she protested.

"There's only one way to find out… besides, if you want your stuff back you don't have a choice, milady," he mocked her.

"Cheeky," she said. "How will you recognize me?"

"Simple," he replied. "Tell the waiter my name and he'll lead you"

"Okay" she scoffed. "So, where and when?"

She scribbled the address he dictated and she checked her watch – she had half an hour to get there. "See you later, thief of suitcases," she heard him laugh before hanging up.

§§§

Robin was sitting at their table, watching the clock on the wall and fidgeting with the white napkin. She was five minutes late – he hoped she could find the place even if she didn't know Venice. Then, he spotted her – she was following a waiter, who was bringing the suitcase. She was wearing a black coat and a blue velvet, knee-length dress, along with another pair of those killer heels. She's even more beautiful in person, he thought. He stood up as they approached the table, and she thanked the waiter who placed the suitcase next to the other. He smiled and said he would return later for the orders. Then he left, and they were staring at each other. Robin offered his hand and she took it.

"Nice to meet you," she said, and her voice was even better than it was over the phone. He smiled, and bowed his head mockingly. "Your majesty," he said, and she looked at him, puzzled.

"What?"

"Well," he chuckled, motioning for her to sit. "I doubt you resisted to the temptation of ransacking my personal belongings"

She blushed, but continued to stare at him. "I still don't understand what you mean"

"I am not afraid to admit that I did" he told her honestly. "And I came across a certain tiara…"

Her lips curved in a smile. "That would be my godson's doing," she explained. "He found out that my name means queen and the tiara was a gift for my birthday"

"A very clever boy," he nodded. "So… did you?"

"What?"

"Get a look between my things"

"Well, yes, I did" she admitted, lifting her chin. "How can you blame me?"

"I don't," he answered. "Curioser and curioser, aren't we?"

She laughed, her eyes bright, and finally he could see their brown shade, missing from the portrait.

"It's a bit early to use a quote from Alice in Wonderland, thief," she replied. The waiter suddenly approached to the table and Robin realized they didn't even think about the menu.

"Oh, well, I'll have a plate of spaghetti and some salad, thanks," he said, eager to return to their conversation. Regina smiled at the waiter and handled him the menus, saying "Same for me". He ordered also a bottle of red wine and the man nodded, walking away quickly.

"I'll offer the wine," he said, and she looked at him, raising a brow. "It's only fair after I took your suitcase"

"Well, I took yours," she replied.

"Never mind," he dismissed, waving his hand. "So, you have a godson… what's his name?"

"Henry," she answered, a fond smile softening her face. "And from that little book… I think you have a son, haven't you?"

"Roland," he confirmed. "He's with his mother now" he diverted his gaze from her to thank the waiter, who was pouring red wine into their glasses. When he was gone, he saw that Regina was biting her lip, as if she didn't know how to tell him something.

"What is it?" he asked, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a sip.

"I might have overstepped," she confessed. "I know we both have looked into the suitcases, but… well, I saw the dedication written on the first page of Fight Club and – "

"Don't worry," he interrupted her. "What I had with Marian ended years ago," he continued. "And about our relationship I follow the first rule of the Fight Club"

"…you do not talk about Fight Club" she ended. "It's a good book" she added, drinking her wine.

"I wouldn't have taken you for the Fight Club type, judging from your books," he chuckled.

"Oh my god," she said, covering her forehead with a hand. "The books I have in the suitcase are a joke," she explained. "My best friend picked them for me before I left… She chose Shining because she says, and I quote, I don't have the guts to finish a book like that," she said sarcastically. "Then Carol, because she wants to drop Henry off at her boyfriend's and see the movie during a girls night… but she knows I don't like to see a movie without having read the book first… and Emma, because she said In this way you'll remember to call us every time you see the book around," she laughed.

"So the blonde in the photo is your best friend and she's called Emma… and she's Henry's mother?" he asked, deeply amused by her explanation.

"Well, aren't you a proper Sherlock," she sassed.

"British attitude," he nodded. Then, the waiter brought their food, and they spent a few quiet minutes savoring the dishes.

"Anyway, you mock me for my books," she said, cleaning her lips with her napkin. "But… Emily Dickinson?"

"Hey, just because I'm a guy, doesn't mean I can't like poetry," he defended himself.

"A sentimental, then," she said. "Not my field"

"Says the woman with a portrait in the suitcase," he chuckled, and a shadow darkened her eyes.

§§§

It was going well – her idea to put a dress and some clothes in her bag, just in case, had been a blessing, because she couldn't go to dinner with the same pantsuit she had worn all day. The restaurant was nice, the man was nice – and polite, and those blue eyes, and the continuous flirting… she honestly couldn't remember the last time she had been this happy about making a mistake. She had been staring at him since the beginning of the dinner – glad that he seemed to reciprocate the attraction. And if this was going to end in a bedroom… she wasn't complaining at all.

At least I'll have something fun to tell Mal, tomorrow, she had thought.

And then… he had to ruin everything. The portrait.

"I…" she breathed, searching for words. "Did you see that too?"

His face saddened, and he looked guilty. "Regina, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have –"

"It's fine," she said, closing her eyes for a second. "You couldn't have imagined – "

"No, it's not," he stated. "I've upset you"

"It's fine," she repeated. "Daniel… he died two years ago"

"Oh" he nodded. She stayed silent, and suddenly he reached for her hand. "I truly am sorry" he said again. "There was a reason if it was tied with a ribbon, after all"

"I've always travelled with that portrait," she smiled bitterly. "The original photo was taken in Paris, and then a friend of mine managed to make a drawing out of it… it's one of the things I love most"

"I can see why" he said.

"But it shouldn't bother me anymore," she continued. "It's been two years"

"You're allowed to grief for as long as you like, Regina," he affirmed, looking at her. "But after a while you should consider… to move on. I mean, he'll always be a part of you, but the best gift you could give him is to live"

"I know," she whispered. And she did know it. Everyone had kept telling her the same words since Daniel was dead. And his last words… thinking about it made her heart ache.

I love you, she had whispered, while he was dying in her arms, the piercing sound of sirens all around them. Then love again, he had answered, before closing his eyes forever.

She had to thank her family for never letting her go. Emma, and Henry, and Mary Margaret, and Mal, they had always been there. She knew what Emma would have said, seeing her right now. Probably something like Oh, for heaven's sake, Regina, you're in Venice, alone, with a guy you like, and he's free, and he's a father, and he's hot, could you please let go your dark thoughts and, just for once, live in the present?

She shook her head, because the Emma in her head was right.

"I feel like I've killed the mood," she smiled, and he squeezed slightly her hand before letting it go.

"Well, I know how to make you feel better" he exclaimed. He got up, and exchanged a few words with the waiter. Regina checked her phone and smiled at a photo of Henry that Emma had sent – I should really call them tomorrow, she thought. Then she read two texts from Mal – Hope you're enjoying your first Italian evening! and Tell me you're not in your hotel room already asleep – and placed the phone back in her purse. She lifted her head when she heard someone approaching. Robin offered his hand and she got up.

"I paid the bill," he told her, lifting a hand when she started to protest. "Consider it a peace offer"

"You didn't do anything wrong," she said, following him. Then she turned towards the table. "But… our suitcases?"

"You can give the name of the hotel to the restaurant staff and they'll bring that back for you," he answered. "Let's hope they read the tag"

"And where do you want to go next?" she asked, lifting her eyebrow playfully.

"I'm afraid that's a surprise" he smiled.

§§§

They got out of the restaurant in the crisp winter weather, walking arm in arm. She found out she liked it. She liked the unpredictability of that evening, of the strange course of events that had led them to meet. They walked for a while, without talking. Then they turned a corner, and St Mark's Square was suddenly extending in front of them. It was almost eleven, a few people still around, but she was struck by the beauty of that place.

"Do you like it?" he asked, and she turned her gaze to meet his eyes.

"Of course," she answered. "But if this is your surprise, I'm afraid you can't take all the credit"

"This was the appetizer," he affirmed. "The first dish is in here," and he motioned towards a little, warm bar. They entered, and the heat hit her like a wave.

"Now, if you please go sit, milady," he said, trying not to laugh, "I'll go and take your surprise, but you must promise me not to peek"

"Pinky promise" she laughed, and left his hand to go and sit to a table in a corner, her back to the counter of the bar. She waited there a few minutes, resisting the temptation of watching him, her gaze fixed on a painting on the wall – a panoramic view of Venice during the Carnival.

Then she heard a noise behind her and she turned to watch him, approaching with two enormous cups of ice cream. She let out a laugh as he placed them in front of her and sat next to her.

"I thought you were the Earl Grey type," she teased, raising the spoon, as he arched his eyebrows. "It would be a waste, being in Italy without trying ice cream," he affirmed.

"I most certainly agree" she replied, trying a bite, and oh, it was like a cold heaven melting on her tongue.

"Oh, wow," she sighed, closing her eyes. When she reopened them, he was staring at her with a strange expression.

"What is it?" she gulped, and he shook his head. "It's just…" he began, and she locked her eyes with his. "…you're beautiful" he finally said, and she felt her cheeks burn. She diverted her gaze, trying to hide a smile. "Your ice cream is melting," she warned him, and he finally started to eat, but didn't stop to look at her. The game was becoming intense, and they continued their exchange of looks between spoons of ice cream, until she finally got up, cleaning her mouth – her legs were painfully sore.

"This one is on me," she proclaimed, and rushed towards the counter before he could stop her. She quickly paid, and then she turned, finding him in front of her with her coat opened.

"Thank you" she said, sliding into the warm fabric, and with only one look, he laced their fingers, and opened the door, guiding her outside. They walked for a few minutes, and Regina felt her hand sweating, but he didn't let go. She saw her hotel around the corner – was it the end, already?

"Well…" she started, a bit unsure. "I've had the appetizer and the first dish," they stopped in the middle of a little bridge which united two banks. "I was wondering what the dessert could be…"

"Let's see," he said. He moved closer, until their bodies were pressed one against the other, and cupped her cheek. "Would you terribly mind if I kissed you right now?"

She leaned on his hand, and smiled softly. "Why are you asking?"

"Because I've met you a few hours ago" he answered. "But I feel like I've known you for so much longer…"

"And why do you want to kiss me?" she continued, looking up at him.

"Because life is short, Regina Mills, and you are hot" he said. She smiled and lifted her hands to grab the collar of his jacket. "Don't think I can't recognize a stolen quote when I see one, thief," she said, looking right in his eyes, then she crashed her lips with his, and it was sweet, and strong, and oh so nice, and they continued to kiss, in the middle of a bridge in Venice, and she wondered how many couples had kissed in that exact spot, and his hands were in her hair, and he tasted like chocolate and vanilla and wine, and this was right, this was living again…

Then they parted, and she smiled, his hand pulling her closer, and she buried her head on his shoulder. They stayed like this for a while, one breathing the other in, just breathing.

She lifted her head to meet his eyes. "What is it?" he asked, stroking her cheek with his thumb. She placed a kiss on his lips. "You'll stay in Venice for one month, is that right?" she asked.

"Yes" he answered. "How did you know?"

"You shouldn't leave your flight ticket in your suitcase," she smiled. He laughed, passing a hand between her hair. "I'm so glad we exchanged the luggage"

"Me too" she said, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Regina" he whispered after they parted, and it was beautiful how he said her name. "I'd like to take this slowly, if it's okay with you" he continued. She just listened, staying silent. "Given that we'll stay here for a while, there's no need to rush, what do you say?"

"Fine by me" she agreed, and the kiss she began was more like making out this time. Their tongues danced together, same rhythm, same motion, and he parted their lips to place his own on her neck, holding her by her waist, and she closed her eyes, leaning on the balcony of the bridge…

"This isn't taking it slowly" she breathed, and he chuckled against her skin, lifted his head.

"I promise I'll be a gentleman from now on," he affirmed. "But only if you agree to see me again tomorrow," he smiled.

"Deal," she answered. "I guess this is where we part ways then?"

"Until tomorrow, yes," he said, and she loosened the embrace reluctantly. He began to walk slowly, and she did too, until he turned around the corner. She smiled, entering in the hotel, and she felt a silly dizziness on all the way to her room. Her suitcase was already there, and she opened it.

In the middle, there was another copy of Poems by Emily Dickinson, with a tiny piece of paper as a bookmark. She opened it, and read the poem signed.

I lost a World - that other day!
Has Anybody found?
You'll know it by the Row of Stars
Around its forehead bound.

A Rich man – might not notice it –
Yet – to my frugal Eye,
Of more Esteem than Ducats –
Oh find it – Sir – for me!

She placed the book in the suitcase and took her phone to write a text, shaking her head, a wide smile on her face.

Thank you for finding my world.

§§§

Mal was approaching to the exit of the airport, a cigarette between her fingers, books under her arm and a huge, violet suitcase behind her. Regina waved her hand to draw her attention and the blonde smiled, spotting her between the crowd.

"Hello, my darling," she exclaimed when she joined her. "I'm famished, I could eat a dragon… how are you?" she said, placing a kiss on her cheek. Before she could answer, Mal frowned. "Regina Mills, is that a hickey on your neck?"