(AN: While this fandom is clearly full of gluttons for punishment, and I did technically fulfil the task of questing to bring Robin back in the first instalment of this story, I feel OQ deserve a better, happier fix than where we left off. So here it is (and along the way I may have fixed something else as well - at least it gives me peace of mind).)
Silence.
That's all there is for her, deafening and merciless.
Souls mill about, herded into their rightful places by Regina's capable hand, never speaking to her unless spoken to. Their deference sets them apart, highlighting what she didn't quite appreciate when she made the decision to dwell in the depths of hell: far from equals, they're of different sorts, with no room for kinship between them. Her charges don't mix with their sovereign, floating by on hushed whispers that don't carry quite far enough for her to even make out.
She wondered, before, if she'd hear his thoughts (reproachful? pleading? both?) the way Robin'd heard hers. Clearly that was too much to hope for. So she's left to seek comfort in the knowledge that now she's no longer a danger or hindrance to him-or any one of her loves ones-he can hope for a good, long life.
And one day, in due time-and no sooner-he'll return to the Stygian shores and be allowed to enter.
Perhaps on that day she'll learn if he's ever forgiven her.
Perhaps then she'll learn if, free of the burden of karma trailing behind her, he's finally found happiness.
A long line of souls has come and gone, and Robin still hasn't left the lonely shores of the Styx. He's not allowed entry, nor will he be any time soon-he knows Regina well enough to understand she'll have done a thorough job of locking him out.
She'd tricked him.
What's worse, she'd been planning it. It's clear as day to him now. He looks back upon those last moments, and her impenetrable expression before she suggested they part ways for a bit reads all too easily. She may not even have bothered searching at that point, merely played for time and an excuse to cement her plan, to fool him into believing someone had agreed to take the throne and set them free.
"Goddamnit, Regina," he groans, pounding a jagged rock with clenched fists, his voice rising to a roar along with his temper. "Goddamnit!"
She'd lied to him-knowing he'd never want that kind of out, knowing he'd never accept to pay that price, knowing fully well just how hurt he'd be. She'd lied through her broken smile, blamed her breaking heart on simple exhaustion, kissed him goodbye without him even knowing it. She'd lied to him, and traded her life for his without giving him a choice.
And Robin hates her for it.
But gods, he still loves her with every last ounce of his being.
His children are what ultimately draws him out to the surface again.
Peanut is none the wiser for his abrupt absence or equally unforeseen return, but welcomes him back with no less joy for it. Gazing at him with clear blue eyes, she waves tiny fists in front of his face in delight when he takes her in his arms again, and squeezes tight at his finger. They'll revisit the issue of her name at some point, but for now the nickname will do.
Roland on the other hand is floored. He doesn't believe at first that his father's truly back. Having lost his mama twice due to Zelena's ploy, it had been hard enough to explain the place of no return to the child. When Robin died, Little John took it upon himself to find a way for Roland to understand, and his poor boy went from denial to apathy to a firm belief Daddy would be back any moment now on an hourly basis.
Now Roland is fearful and unsure, whether afraid of him or the possibility he might leave again Robin doesn't know-but it certainly claws at his heart with unprecedented savagery.
Once he does dare believe his miraculous return, he won't leave Robin's side-they spend entire days literally attached at the hip.
Yet even so Roland's happiness isn't unfettered.
Much as he, the Merry Men, and his Storybrooke friends rejoice over Robin's return, Regina's absence leaves a festering wound in everyone's lives. Roland's little heart takes another blow at this loss-but no one is more affected than Henry.
Thanks to a note left to him, he'd known of the nature of his mother's quest, though not her destination (a smart move on Regina's part, one to ensure she wouldn't be followed). With the Charmings gathered around, and just seconds after everyone's faces light up at his return then screw up in confusion and worry at the lack of Regina by his side, it falls to Robin to relay the horrible news.
Unsurprisingly, Henry doesn't take it well.
"She went in to rescue you, and you just-I can't believe you just left her there," he throws in Robin's face, fists clenched and tears just about to spill, before he stomps up the stairs and locks himself in his room.
Robin sends a quiet thought to Regina, knowing how utterly devastated she'd be to see her boy like this. For the first time since her devious plot, he feels not a speck of anger towards her. Only grief. And love.
For that at least he's grateful.
The seance is Henry's idea.
He gathers them all-Emma, Snow White, David, and Killian-in Regina's kitchen, an ancient tome propped open on the table and a repentant expression on his face as he offers Robin a terse but heartfelt apology.
"I know you love her," he tells him. "And I know how stubborn she can be. I shouldn't have assumed-"
"We're good, Henry," Robin interrupts, because they're both hurting and so he understands. It isn't lost on him how similar Henry's reaction was to the way Regina processes things-quick-tempered, heartfelt, strong-on-the-outside-even-when-crumbling-inwardly before he was ready to make amends and open up to a select few. "You're truly your mother's son, you know."
And then his arms are full of the gangly boy, and his heart somehow fuller as well.
Not so an hour later, when their hopes to call forth Regina's ghost have turned to dust.
"Mom would never refuse to talk to me," Henry says, slumped in his chair.
"Maybe I'm just not powerful enough, kid," Emma tells him ruefully. "Last time it took both mine and Regina's magic."
Robin sighs, rubbing his neck. There's another possibility, a rather obvious one no one seems willing to address-namely, that Regina isn't exactly a ghost, which is why contacting her this way might just be impossible.
Late that night, he crawls into bed (Roland is asleep in Regina's sheets, his baby scent mingling with the unmistakable apple-and-spice lingering on the pillows) weary and bereft.
Oh Regina, if only you knew how sorely you're missed.
On the shores of the Styx, the mist rises and dissolves into tiny puffs, and there in the middle of the mirror-like surface stands Regina.
Clad in rich, velvet darker than the night, decked in sable onyx and a diamond-studded tiara woven into ebony locks, she resembles an otherworldly apparition of the Evil Queen. Only her face betrays she's very much the Regina he'd been forced to leave behind.
"Is this real?" he wonders, dazed, for it can't be.
"As real as dreams can be."
It's not, then. And still he can't help but reach out for her.
A sad smile lifts the corners of her mouth, and she takes a step, then another, towards him, until all he needs to do is raise his hand and touch her.
So he does.
She doesn't dissolve. Doesn't run. Doesn't push him away. Instead her eyes flutter closed, and her head rests on his shoulder when he pulls her close.
"I miss you," he whispers, breathing her in, nearly staggering on his feet as the world seems to momentarily right itself.
But it's all temporary, isn't it? He's going to wake up in a minute, or an hour, or a few-and she won't be there. Nor will she ever be there.
The air grows acrid in his lungs, his blood boils with rage.
"Gods, Regina," he groans in frustration. His fingers curl gently around her arms, but his words cut. "I miss you so bloody much. We all do. Did you really think you're so disposable?"
She chooses to let that question go, not for the first time. They both know the answer already, and even though he itches to offer reassurance, that's not where this conversation seems to be going. Overall Regina is taking his outburst in stride, as if she'd been expecting it-and good, he thinks, because she should have.
"Someone had to do it, Robin," she returns. She's calm. Weary, even-almost enough so to cover the pleading undertone. "Someone had to take the job, and there was nobody else. You know there wasn't."
No, that's not good enough. Not nearly good enough.
"Hiding behind the job now, are you?" Robin isn't yelling-he will not yell. But he's mad. He's mad at her, and mad at himself, and mad at this whole damn situation because here they are, together in some capacity for possibly the last time, and this is how they must spend those precious moments. "Tell me something-were you even really trying to find someone, or-?"
"Of course I tried! I almost died trying, and so did you! This isn't the outcome I wanted either, but it's the best I could do-and like every other time life had thrown me a curveball," she says, slipping into that bitter, hopeless, undeserving tone that absolutely kills him inside, "I had to make the best of the situation and just deal with it."
"And what if I don't want to deal with it? Regina-I could have done it!" he bursts out. It's been eating away at him ever since, the thought that he could have come up with the plan before she had the chance. "Did you ever consider that option, even at least after I'd told you I might have to stay anyway? Or do you hold me for such a pathetic leader? Is that why between the two of us you were the only choice?"
Perhaps he's being unfair now, but he can't stop himself. They're both fighting an outside foe-and Regina's inner demons have clearly sided with the enemy.
Those demons also seem to have drained all her ire-or perhaps that's Robin's doing-for she doesn't fight back; only gives him a rueful smile and a sad little headshake.
"It doesn't matter anymore."
He simply can't believe her. Cannot bloody believe the utter lack of fight left in her.
"It matters, Regina," he exhales, running a hand through his hair, "because you never cared to ask whether I was okay with any of this. I was already dead and buried. You could have lived on."
"Did you ask for my opinion before you threw yourself in the crystal's path?"
"That's different. Mine wasn't a premeditated decision."
"But if you'd had time to think it through?"
"Of course I'd have done the bloody same," he says without a second thought. It's the truth-and her raised eyebrow is proof she expected that much.
"Then this is no different."
But it is, and can she really not see why?
"I wasn't actively deceiving you," Robin says quietly.
Regina winces. It's a sore spot for both of them, with scars to show for it, and the truth of his words cuts deep. Her eyes drop to her feet, then settle upon his face, soft and unguarded.
"For that," she says, "I'm sorry."
It's Roland's screams that wakes him, bringing an end to the nightmarish argument, but he swears Regina's presence lingers in the bedroom as he soothes his sobbing son. Henry materialises within the minute, picking up Roland's toy monkey from the floor and pressing it into the boy's little hands as he pulls up a chair beside them.
"Have you slept at all?" Robin asks when Roland nods off again, monkey clutched to his chest.
"Not much," Henry confesses. "But I had this dream."
"Of your mother?"
"Yeah. She said she'd visit you, too." Henry shifts uncomfortably, glancing over at him. "She said you're angry with her."
"Regina told you that? In a dream?" Magic, it seems, will never cease to surprise him.
"She told me what happened." Taking a deep breath, Henry seems to brace himself before admitting: "I'd be mad, too, if I were you." He wrings his hands, shifting in the chair again. "I'm actually mad at her as it is."
Robin can relate, he really can.
For Henry, this is a blow unlike any, and it doesn't seem to have fully sunk in yet. People around him keep popping in and out of death these days after all-why wouldn't the poor lad hope his mother will manage, too?
The last thing he needs is to feel guilty about his emotions though-or misplace the anger he, quite understandably, feels.
"Henry, first of all, anger is a perfectly natural reaction to loss. Secondly, your mother did what she thought was right. She was wrong-but the past has a way of catching up with us sometimes, making us believe things that aren't necessarily true."
"Like she should have died instead of you," Henry says slowly.
"Like she doesn't deserve to be happy, no matter how hard she tries to atone for her past. Which we both know isn't the case." Henry nods miserably, and Robin can't help but remember, with a sinking heart, how hard Henry'd worked to help Regina believe in the possibility of her very own happy ending. "What I'm trying to say is, I am very angry, and hurt, over what Regina did-but I understand why she thought she needed to do it."
Perhaps he should have led with that instead of throwing accusations at her.
"I just wish there was some way to make things right. For both of you."
Henry's face glistens with tears-but just as Robin reaches for his shoulder, the boy's eyes light up, focused at only he knows what new idea.
"Gotta go," he says hastily. "See you later."
Henry returns triumphantly just an hour later as Robin's trying to wrestle the toaster into obedience, and levels him with an unexpected piece of information.
After a barrage of inquisitive questions, Rumplestiltskin eventually shed light on the convoluted world of dreamscapes. The line between the Realm of Dreams and the Realm of Death, the Dark One said, is a fine one, easy to transcend provided one knows how.
"That means we can communicate after all-even without seances."
Never has the idea of naps been as tempting as it is now.
Jumbled thoughts keep him up, however, and perhaps it's better this way. His motive is so clear, so transparent, Robin wonders if the magic would even work if he were able to fall asleep.
Roland, on the other hand, refuses to take his afternoon nap for fear he might wake to another nightmare-or worse, the reality of his father gone once again.
So they walk. Robin first, with Roland in tow, as fast as his boy's short legs allow. They don't talk much, but seek solace where they always have-in nature's lap. The woods around Storybrooke are a canvas upon which autumn has painted with every which hue, and it does bring them some semblance of peace. Or so Robin thinks, letting his mind and his legs wander freely.
"Papa," pipes up Roland, tugging at his hand. "Are we going to see R'gina?"
He looks down at his son, then up ahead-oh.
Haphazardly places headstones litter the path before them, and at the end looms the Mills family crypt.
My mind was in the forest, but my heart took me here.
Robin's heart squeezes so painfully he clutches at his chest.
There is no headstone though, no place of final rest they could visit Regina at-only the vault. And even though he didn't mean to come here, even though she hasn't been laid to rest inside-can't be, for there's no remains to speak of-it feels right to enter.
Roland seems more curious than scared as they walk inside, his head wobbling groggily as he's being carried in the near dark. Robin had found the vault oddly enticing once, even cheery in warm, soft candlelight-but undoubtedly the place's charm had been her presence more than anything.
All it holds now is gloom, chill, and dreariness.
You should be here, he thinks as his eyes burn, among the living-with us.
The tomb of Regina's parents is watching, like a dusty marble face with haphazard markings for wrinkles, crisscrossing over the lid.
Robin blinks. Shifting Roland-now fast asleep-in his arms, he steps closer.
Bloody hell.
Those haphazard markings aren't random at all. They're letters. Three short lines of text
Do set your sights closer, dear child,
For the answer you seek
Lies inside.
Robin doubts very many people have ever gone to sleep with a mission of such magnitude, or an audience this large. One could hear a pin drop-or suffocate for the tension in the air. But the draft concocted thanks to Belle's research works like a spell, and soon he drifts all the way to the cold waters of the Styx.
Dreams have barriers and limits of their own, but they're not governed by the same rules the waking world is.
He crosses the river on the wings of Dreams, just like he's been instructed, and finds himself at the foot of the ebony throne.
The sight of him startles her, makes life flicker in dark eyes before the light goes out again.
"Go home, Robin," she says, imploring. "I don't want to fight anymore. Please."
"I'm not here to fight."
She meets him halfway for the kiss that burns through them like wildfire, driving out every last bit of the otherworldly chilliness clinging to this place. She sighs as his fingers card through her hair, and Robin allows himself to get lost in the moment, just for a little while, gasping as she presses up against him, warm and soft and wonderful.
"I want this-us-back," he tells her simply when they break apart.
But of course she misunderstands.
"You can't do this," she says, taking a step back and crossing her arms the way she does when she feels vulnerable but tries to hide it. "We can't keep switching places forever. This is final, Robin. It has to be."
At least she's listening-not hearing him yet, but she could have him out of her realm at the snap of her fingers if she wanted to, and yet she's allowing him to stay. Surely that counts for something.
"But it doesn't," he argues. "And while the idea of switching does have its merits," he concedes, for even though the two of them would still be forever separated, their children would benefit in a way, "I've a much better proposal."
Regina shouldn't allow this.
She should have put a stop to this the first time round, or made more than just a half-hearted attempt to. She should put a stop to it right now, without hearing his arguments, for he's never going to convince her to buy herself out with his life.
But Regina is weak. She doesn't want to part with him-not even like this, with no future or prospects other than occasional meetings in his dreams.
I've a much better proposal, he says, and she both wants and doesn't want to believe him.
Before she can protest, however, he opens the satchel previously slung over his shoulder, and approaches the small altar sitting in the middle of the throne room. From the satchel he retrieves bottles and vials, lining them up carefully: milk and honey, wine and water, barley and-is that blood?
"Robin, what are you-"
She reaches to stay his hand, but he just shakes his head and smiles ruefully.
"It's not a trick," he says, and guilt bubbles up in her at the implied unlike yours had been. "I promise."
How far does his honour go, when he'd already denounced it for her once?
She's terrible for him. She shouldn't allow him anywhere near her, should protect him from hers-
It most definitely is blood, that last vial he now reaches for, pouring it onto the altar after all the other containers have been emptied there.
A sacrifice.
To whom?
Regina is barely breathing, eyes firm on him-but it's not her Robin is looking at.
A shade materialises where she follows his gaze, far across the room out of reach of the burning torches, and it approaches swiftly.
"Mother?" Regina gasps.
"Yes, my dear." Cora looks her up and down, sighing: "And not a moment too soon."
To her surprise, Cora steps to Robin next. A part of Regina riots the minute she offers a hand to him, an awful memory flashing before her from another place and time, another love taken from her after her mother's feigned offer of peace. But this is not the same man, nor is her mother the same person. They shake hands, Cora clasping both of Robin's, who returns the gesture, all with an inexplicable air of familiarity.
Like an unspoken pact Regina isn't privy to.
Looking between her mother and her soul mate and unsure not only of just what's happening but also, right now, of her feelings about all this, she breathes: "I don't understand."
They exchange glances, her soul mate and her mother, and Cora nods.
Robin steps forward, taking Regina's hand, no longer able to contain the bright, hopeful smile settling on his gorgeous face.
"We looked in all the wrong places, Regina. Not that we could help it much, what with all the chaos-but the hints we got, we failed to understand." He squeezes her fingers, and Regina squeezes back, the buzz of thoughts gone haywire settling. "You thought those three lines revealed to you in a dream, under the Elm where False Dreams cling under every leaf, referred to you as the future Queen of the Dead. But that's not what they really meant."
"They said to look closer," she says slowly, if a touch defensively. "To look inside." And how does he even know about the dream? She'd certainly never told him-not after she'd begun to suspect what she had to do. "How do you know what they meant?"
"Because I sent you that dream," Cora steps in. "Just as I sent Robin the message. On my tombstone. Look inside?"
Look inside.
Inside.
All this time Regina believed the answer lied inside her, when in truth it was inside her mother's tomb.
"You?" she lets out as tear spring in her eyes.
Cora smiles-a sad little thing Regina recognises, filled with remorse and determination and, yes, hope.
"I always meant for it to be me, Regina. Once I used to wish it for all the wrong reasons, but things are different now. I didn't get to make amends in life, but I hope I can still do so in death."
Somewhere in a remote corner of her heart, the implications of her mother's words pour life-giving water onto the shoot of hope too tough to eradicate. Regina's mind can't quite catch up just yet, so she turns to Robin again, wraps her arms around his torso loosely, head tilted in confusion-there's so much she doesn't understand.
"How did you know what to do?"
Robin smiles at that, smiles at her, and rubs up and down her arms soothingly.
"Henry was the one to suggest the seance. We failed at first, but your sister offered to help, and she and Emma eventually had enough magic between them to accomplish the task. So your mother was able to give detailed instructions."
"So you're saying we both get to leave? To live again?"
Is this still Robin's dream, or is Regina the one dreaming instead?
"If that's what you want," Cora says, the simple statement charged with emotion.
Regina is utterly stunned. Her mother is volunteering to rule the dead in her stead, so that she can go home with Robin. And her words aren't the manipulation of yore, don't carry that hint of passive aggressive guilt trip she once would be treated to on a regular basis. They're genuine.
"Exactly," she confirms, her smile a bit brighter in response to the stirrings of Regina's own. "It's only fitting, Regina. I did want to be queen all my life. I pressed you to become one when I couldn't, and took one true love away from you before. Let me at least try to make things right. Take your second chance."
Slipping from Robin's arms, Regina finds herself in her mother's instead, only to be met with the kind of warm embrace she'd so craved, and gone without, as a child.
"I'm proud of you, you know," Cora whispers. "You were a good queen, and you're an even better mayor."
Whether Cora knows how much this means to Regina, despite decades of wishing herself free of the craving for her mother's approval, she doesn't know-what she does realise, however, when the few inevitable sobs cease, is that there's someone else standing nearby that deserves to hear similar words from her. Because they're true, and she never wants him to doubt himself or her opinion of him.
Robin beams at her, clearly touched, as she approaches him, running the pad of her thumb along the line of his jaw.
"I think you're a wonderful leader," she says firmly, looking him straight in the eyes. "That's why people choose to follow you."
Robin tilts his head, pressing his lips together.
"You can't just decide what's best for me-or us-and not let me have a say." His tone is gentle, unaccusing, so very patient even after what happened. "Especially when you know I disagree."
"No, I know. I do. And I really, truly am sorry about that."
A soft peck is all the answer he gives-she's forgiven.
Time to look to the future.
"Ready to come home with me?" he asks, the intensity of his smile in contrast with the tears rolling down her cheeks. Or perhaps not-they come from the same incredulous, happy, hopeful place.
"There's nothing I'd love more."
As if she'd been waiting for no more, Cora steps to the altar and touches a hand to it. The ebony throne shakes, rattling the sombre regalia piled atop-and the sceptre appears in the hands of the new empress.
The world around them goes fuzzy as Regina and Robin hold on to each other, soaring through fantastical realms, until they're laid gently down in the one they call home.
As they blink the remains of sleep away, Cora's voice echoes softly in her ear.
"Regina? Do try to go a while without visiting again-both of you."
(AN: Cora's become Persephone and Outlaw Queen go home together to live their happy beginning - finally everything is right with the world! ;))