The house seems so empty, so still and eerily quiet.

And for the first time since Robin's funeral, there's no one else around.

No one to correct her behavior or tell her how she should be feeling. No one to remind her of what happened the last time she let grief consume her–and no one to distract her from the heavy loneliness that filled her heart, the anger she had at a life cut short too soon, and the overpowering ache that overtook her whenever she allowed herself to remember that Robin was gone because of her.

Regina takes a breath as she locks the door, not bothering to turn on the lights as she moves slowly toward the living room feeling tired and restless.

When they'd returned from New York, everyone–even Henry–resumed to walking on eggshells around her. It was entirely possible that they simply didn't know what to say to her, or that they knew that no matter what they said, it couldn't change anything and it couldn't make it better. When Hook died, they'd gone to the Underworld–they'd gone to save him. But with Robin, it was different. There wasn't a place he was, there wasn't a path they could follow, and she'd spent hours upon hours trying to find a curse that could undo what Hades had done, but she couldn't. She failed. And Robin was simply gone.

Gone.

Dead.

Obliterated.

They all tried though–tried in vain–with the usual sentiments.

They told her that none of what happened was her fault–even though they all knew that it was. They told her he'd want her to live the rest of her life in a way that'd make him proud–but she knew she'd fail. And they told her she was surrounded by people who loved and supported her–but here she was, alone.

Years before, when she lost Daniel, the grief had eaten away at her. It changed her. The bitterness and loss consumed her entirely, and the person she was before his death had died alongside him. Then, as she stood there, trembling as she stared down at Robin's lifeless body on the floor of her office, she felt it happening again. The darkness she'd fought so hard to rid herself of was bubbling up within her–the darkness she'd shed with his help–and she found herself wanting whatever revenge she could grasp onto.

She'd stifled it, though, and she'd pushed it down.

It felt different, she realized, different than it'd been after Daniel. She wasn't quite sure what that meant or what she was supposed to do with it, so she'd buried it beneath her guilt and grief, and pretended it wasn't there.

She told herself that she was doing a good job of managing it–that no one knew what was in her heart. They didn't know what she was thinking or feeling, and they didn't know who she blamed or what she'd trade to undo his sacrifice.

But she wasn't doing as good of a job as she thought.

They all knew it, and they were all afraid of it.

They were afraid of her.

And no matter what anyone said, she knew that's why the Merry Men had taken Roland without so much as goodbye. Sure, the Enchanted Forest had long been their home, but it was different for Roland. He wasn't theirs, he was Robin's, and Robin hadn't ever intended to go back. He was building a new life–and that would have gone a lot more smoothly had it not been for her involvement–and he wanted his son to grow up in Storybrooke.

Roland had a bedroom that she'd helped him to decorate. He picked out every detail–from the light green walls to the blue-and-green quilt that laid on the bed and the hammock of stuffed animals that hung in the corner. His clothes still hung in the closet, and there was a shelf of books he and Henry meant to read together. His name was written on the door in blue and green letters that he'd painted himself, and on the frame of the door, on the night he'd officially moved into the bedroom, she and Robin had used a thick black marker to measure his height on the frame of the door.

He was supposed to grow up in that room.

He was supposed to grow up in Storybrooke, with her and Henry and his father.

He wasn't supposed to go back.

The Merry Men knew none of this, of course–or maybe they did.

They never quite warmed to her. They were still skeptical, and understandably so. For years, she'd been the Evil Queen who'd tormented and cursed them. To them she was selfish and dark–and obviously, they didn't believe she'd changed.

So, they'd taken Roland away.

Tears fill her eyes as she thinks of him–of the little boy she'd fallen in love with–and the thought of never seeing him again is unbearable. And though she hadn't had any say in any of it, she can't help but think this was just yet another way she'd let down Robin.

"Don't cry, love."

Her entire body stiffens as she stands rooted in place, her heart clenching as she hears Robin's soft chuckle.

"Turn around."

"No," she murmurs in a voice that was barely audible. "You're not here."

"Turn around and have a look."

"This isn't fair," she mumbls as her eyes press closed–he wasn't here, he couldn't be. This is a manifestation of her grief, and it'd only hurt her. "He's not here," she reminds herself. "He's dead."

"Well, you're half right."

"Stop."

"Regina, turn around."

"No…"

He sighs, "Why must you always be so damn stubborn?"

Her eyes press tighter, but slowly, she feels herself turning toward his voice. "He's…"

"Right here."

Swallowing hard, she open her eyes–and immediately, her breath catches in her throat. A gasp escapes her as her hand covers her mouth and her tears spill down her cheeks. She shakes her head, not understanding as she utters his name in a voice that's barely audible.

"I'm right here."

"You're dead."

"Yes," he says, chuckling softly. "I am."

"If you're dead, you can't be here." Taking in a breath, she pushes her fingers against her cheeks and wipes away her tears. "You aren't real. You're–"

"Right here," he tells her as her voice fades. "I told you. I'm with you, always."

"You died. I watched you."

"Yes," he agreed, nodding. "You did."

"Then–" She shakes her head. "I can see you, though. You're–"

"Exactly where I'm meant to be."

"I don't understand. I–" Her voice halts as her fingers push into her hair. "I'm losing my mind," she deadpans as she looks to him. "Is this a dream?"

"No," he tells her, shaking his head as he takes a step toward her. "You're not losing your mind and you are not dreaming."

"How are you here?" she asks, her eyes widening. "If you're dead and this isn't a dream and–"

"Regina, you are not losing your mind–"

She nods. "I don't understand how you're here, looking at me and talking to me and–" Her words get caught in her throat as she remembers the last time she looked at him, laying still in his coffin wearing a soft sewn on smile. "Robin, I was there. I watched you die. I was at your funeral. I buried you."

"Yes."

"How is this possible?"

A little grin edges onto his lips as he reaches for her hand, taking it in his and turning over. She sucks in a breath and swallows hard as tears again burn in her eyes, clouding her sight. Hastily, she reaches up and wipes them away, not wanting to even blink in fear that when she opens them again, he'll be gone.

"Oh, love," he sighs as his thumb rubs at the center of her palm. "Don't cry."

"I don't understand."

"We're soulmates," he says simply. "We're connected. Always."

Her lip catches between her teeth as she looks down at their hands, and she draws in another breath, savoring his touch. "So, because you're here, you're just… in some sort of limbo?" Her brow furrows with concern as an ache settles in her chest. "Am I keeping you from the afterlife?"

"No. Not… not exactly." He laughs softly as his fingers push down around hers. "It's hard to explain."

"Try."

For a moment, he considers and then nods. "I'm in both places. I can be here and there, and… it's sort of like there are pieces of me scattered about. I don't know exactly how it works. I didn't think to question it. I've been more concerned about trying to grab onto your attention."

Her eyes widen. "What?"

"You've been a bit difficult to reach."

At that, her eyes press closed as a pang of regret stabs at her core. She's heard his voice and she's felt his presence, but she'd pushed it away and ignored it, convinced that it was just her grief playing a cruel trick and taunting her with everything she'd never have.

"So, tonight, I thought I'd try something a bit stronger."

"You… you should be with Roland," she tells him as her eyes open, and a feeling of temporary relief washes over her when she finds him still visibly standing in front of her. "I don't de–"

"Don't say that."

"But it's true. I don't deserve you."

"Regina…"

"Your son deserves his father."

Robin sighs as his eyes narrow. "It… doesn't quite work that way, love."

She doesn't understand. She doesn't understand any of this. "You should be with him. He didn't cause–"

"Neither did you."

"But I did," she tells him, her eyes falling away from his. "If it weren't for me, Roland would still have his father." Swallowing hard, she looks back up and shrugs as tears again fill her eyes as she thinks about all that's been lost. "Robyn would have her father, too."

"You're not responsible for what happened in your office. I knew exactly what I was doing when I stepped in front of you, Regina. I knew exactly what I was giving up." A little laugh rises into his voice as he squeezes her hand. "I do blame you just a bit for letting Zelena name my daughter after me, though."

Something flashes in his eyes, making them sparkle as a smile stretches across his lips–and for a moment, she finds a lopsided little grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. "We both know my sister does whatever she wants to do."

He nods. "I assume it'll grow on me."

"I like it," she admits. "I like that whenever I say her name, I think of you."

Robin's eyes roll. "I think it's stupid."

"Why? Because she's a girl?" Regina asks. "Because plenty of boys get their father's names."

"That's stupid, too," Robin scoffs. "Children aren't littler versions of their parents. They're their own person, and they deserve a name that's theirs and theirs alone."

Regina frowns, bristling slightly. "Well, I named Henry after–" and then, before she can even finish her sentence, she laughs out. It's the first time she's laughed in weeks, and she can't help but notice the way his smile brightens whens he does. "I missed this."

"You missed arguing with me about petty things?"

She nods. "I miss everything."

"Me too," he tells her. "And for a moment, it felt like it did before."

"It did," she agrees as she rubs her fingers over his knuckles, enjoying the feel of him. "So, does this mean that… that I can… keep picking petty fights with you and…"

"Enjoy making up afterwards?" He nods, "Absolutely."

Her lips part to respond–a part of her is glad for it, and another part of her still feels guilty–but her words never sort themselves out. Instead, he steps in the rest of the way, closing the small gap between them as his arms fold around her and pulls her tight against his chest.

For a moment, all she can do is stand there and enjoy it. She takes in a breath–he still smells like forest–and that makes her smile. His hug is warm and soft, and it makes her feel safe and secure, just as it always has. It isn't lost on her that she can't feel his heart beating, but she can feel his breath as he bends his head to press a kiss to her hair–and she decides then, that this can be enough.

"What about Roland?" she hears herself ask. "He's not here. He's… home."

"He isn't home," Robin says, shaking his head. "He's at the camp with the Merry Men. He safe, but he's not home."

"Couldn't you–"

"I can't cross that barrier."

"What?" she asks, looking up at him in confusion. "What barrier? If you can stand in front of me and talk to me and touch me, then–" Robin shakes his head as her voice fades. "Why not?"

"As much as it pains me, I can't reach out to my son as I can to you."

"But–"

"You're my soulmate, and we're connected to each other in a way that's unique."

"Oh…"

"I can see him. I can watch over him, but he'll never know that I'm there."

"That's…"

"How it is," he shrugs, smiling sadly. "And I've realized that I need to be grateful for what I can have and make do with the rest."

"It isn't fair."

"No," he tells her. "But it's more than most get." Then, a smile draws onto his lips. "I can't say when or how, but he'll come home, eventually."

"Home," she repeats. "As in…"

"To you."

A little smile edges onto her lips, and she feels a soft flutter in her chest. "Really? I'm home to him?"

Robin nods. "And that will be a very happy day."

She has a thousand questions that she doesn't ask. He's already told her that he doesn't know the details, and for now, at least, the thought of Roland coming back to her slightly eases her heartache–and then, when Robin wraps his arms around her, pulling her close once again, she finds herself wanting to enjoy what she can, instead of worrying about the rest.

"I missed you."

"I know," he nods, as his hand rubs the space between her shoulders. "And I've missed you."

"How long do I have you?" she hears herself ask as her breath sticks in her lungs, not really sure she wants to know the answer to her own question. "I don't think I could stand to lose you again."

"That's not something you have to worry about."

"I don't?"

"No," he tells her. "I told you that I'm with you, always, and I meant that."

A smile edges onto her lips as she presses her cheek to his chest and closes her eyes, once more breathing him in, as her shoulders relax. For the first time in weeks, she feels at ease, and for the first time in weeks, she allows herself to feel her exhaustion.

Sensing it, Robin pushes back a little and chuckles softly when she doesn't move, but instead hugs him tighter. "You're tired, love. You should sleep."

"I don't want to sleep. I want to stay just like this."

"Then, at least lay down for a little while," he suggest. "Get a bit of rest."

"You'll stay with me?" she asks, lifting her head to look at him. "If I agree to rest, you'll stay?"

"Always."

Smiling wearily, she nods and loosens her hold on him, leading him to the couch. She sits down and pulls him with her, grinning as he pulls a knit blanket from the back of the couch. He presses a kiss to her forehead and his nose rubs against hers as he pulls back, letting his hand slip up over her jaw as his lips peck at hers.

Lazily, she throws a fireball into the hearth, letting the room fill with warmth and light as she cuddles into him and closes her eyes…

She jolts up and stiffens when she hears a key in the door, and for a brief moment, she fears that she's awoken from a dream. But then Robin presses a kiss to her temple and whispers into her ear a reminder that only she can see him. When the front door closes, she hears Henry softly calling out for her.

"Mom?" he asks, coming into the living room. "Are you awake?"

"I am," she tells him, her eyes shifting to Robin. "I just… needed to lay down for a bit."

"I just looked up and… you were gone."

"I wasn't in the mood for a celebration," she admits. "I should have told you I was leaving, but I didn't want to spoil your fun."

"It wasn't really fun," he tells her. "But I was really hungry and–"

"Oh," she frowns, realizing the refrigerator has been empty for weeks. "I should probably–"

"Mom," Henry cuts in. "I ate. I'm fine." He chuckles softly as he lifts up a large paper bag. "And Granny sent me home with enough food for us both to eat three meals tomorrow."

"That was nice."

He nods. "Do you need anything? I can get you whatever–"

"No," she cuts in, shaking her head as her eyes slide to Robin and a grin works its way onto her lips as she looks back to Henry. "For now, I have everything I need."

"Okay, I'm going to go to bed, then," he says easily as he comes into the room, walking toward her and leaning in to kiss her cheek. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, Henry."

"Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she repeats as Robin cuddles her a bit closer as Henry starts up the stairs, and when he's out of sight, she turns back to Robin. She pecks his lips as she turns herself to face him, drawing her legs up over his lap as her head falls to his shoulder. "He didn't see you."

"He can't."

"I know, I just…"

"Feel a little crazy?"

"Maybe," she says with a groggy sigh. "I just… wish things could be like they were before."

"They can't, though," he tells her as his arms adjust around her and he rests his head atop hers. "But this is close."

"Yeah," she murmurs as she finally allows herself to give into her exhaustion. "And it's good enough."

"For now," he tells her, squeezing her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her hair. "For now it has to be enough."

"You're really not going anywhere?"

"I promise, you," he tells her. "I'm not going anywhere."

Smiling faintly, she nods–and her last thought before sleep overtakes her is that she hopes this hasn't all been a part of some wonderful dream, and if it was, she hopes she never wakes up.

Regina sits down on the edge of her bed and she feels her lungs deflate and her stomach drop as she looks down at the stack of letters in her hand, opened and bound together by a rubber band.

The schools printed on the corners of the envelope are varied, ranging from ones as close as New York to others clear across the country and a few smattered in between. They're all good schools, recognizable by name, and judging by the postmark, one school in New York and another in California were of the first Henry applied to.

Applied to, and never told her about.

She sighs as she remove the band. For the last year, Henry has been preparing for college–and she's been pretending to be okay with that.

Of course, she knew that her feelings couldn't get in his way, that he was forging his own life and would be setting out on his own journey to start his own life. He'd go to school and study something of his choosing, he'd find a job and officially move out of the bedroom he'd grown up in. He'd meet a girl and fall in love, they'd make a home together and have children, and a life that was all theirs.

And she'd hoped that would all happen in Storybrooke.

She'd surprised him earlier that school year with a tour of the little college in Storybrooke. It'd rained that day and it smelled like fall, and she'd so easily been able to see her son studying on the campus. They had a writing program–journalism, specifically–and she'd teased that she was confident a position would open up for him at the Storybrooke Mirror when he graduated.

He'd laughed and rolled his eyes, reminding her she couldn't magic him a position and when she'd frowned, he'd also reminded her that, under no means, was she allowed to intimidate some poor journalist into abandoning his post, simply so he could have a job.

At that, Robin had chuckled softly and made his presence known–and as Henry left her at a small table inside of the little campus cafe, Robin held her hand and reminded her that Henry had a good head on his shoulders, that he was smart and capable, and even if he went away for a little while, he'd never stay away. He loved her too much.

She'd smiled and nodded, squeezing his hand for comfort as she watched Henry place his order.

Robin faded as Henry returned–and as much as she hated when he did that, she appreciated him wanting to give her and her son their moment.

Henry handed her her coffee, and as he sat down beside her, she could smell the hot cocoa and cinnamon he was drinking–and so badly, she wished she could hold onto to her little boy forever.

It only occurred to her now, as she looked at the letters, that it'd all been to appease her–and Robin had likely known about it.

"You shouldn't snoop," he tells her as he sits down beside her. "I am fairly certain that Henry hasn't made his choice–"

"I'm not snooping," she bristles. "I found them in the hall. They must've fallen out of his backpack."

"That's a likely possibility."

Sighing, she looks to her lap. "And you knew."

"I did," Robin admits. "I overheard–"

"Now who's snooping?" she asks, cocking an eyebrow as she looks pointedly at him.

Robin's brow furrows. "It's hard to do much else when you're a ghost."

Regina's eyes roll. "That's always your excuse."

"It's my reality," he counters, chuckling softly as he reaches her hand, pulling it away from the letters. "I tried to warn you that this was coming, but it wasn't mine to tell."

Sighing, she looks to him and a little grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. "It's just my luck to have an omnipotent ghost following me around who also follows an honor code." She laughs softly and shakes her head as his head dips forward, his forehead resting against hers.

"I thought you liked my honor."

"I do," she sighs. "As annoying as it is."

"He hasn't made up his mind," Robin tells her, pulling back. "He's quite conflicted."

"Because of me."

"Because he loves you and loves his home here."

"He… can come back," she says, looking down at the letters. "No matter where he goes, he can come back here. It's… not like he's… leaving forever."

"That's true," Robin agrees. "You should tell him that."

Regina blinks up at him. "I don't want him to feel like he has to take care of me."

"He doesn't feel that way, at least he doesn't feel it out of some sense of obligation." A warm grin works its way over his lips, and his eyes shine in a way that's always been so comforting to her. "He loves you."

She nods, drawing in a breath. "I know it's selfish, but I was really hoping he'd fall in love with the journalism program here in Storybrooke." Looking back to her lap she picks up the stack of letters and fans through them, noting each of the schools and how much more impressive they are than a little unknown college in the middle of nowhere that was created from a curse. Of course, it had the credentials it needed to have–the curse had seen to that–and it was filled with professors who were passionate about their subjects. But it wasn't Columbia and Stanford or even the University of Michigan. "But these schools are–"

"Impressive."

"Yes."

"You should be proud."

"I am," she breathes out. "I am always proud of him."

"He's worked hard and for as long as I can remember, he's been such a talented writer. This is what he wants to do, and who knows," Robin says, chuckling softly as he plucks the letter from Columbia from the pile. "After a couple of months on the job market, he might just let you create that job for him at the Mirror."

A grin forms on her lips as she takes the envelope. "Is this… the one?"

"He got a scholarship." Her breath catches and warm tears well in her eyes–what she feels is a nearly indescribable mix of excitement and dread. "And it's close."

"I should talk to him."

"You should."

Swallowing hard, she runs her finger over Columbia's logo and her eyes press closed, reminding herself to keep a stiff upper lip for Henry's sake. "Will you come with me?"

"Always."

Grinning, she looks back at him and squeezes his hand–and then she pulls him up with her. His fingers fold down around hers as she makes her way down the hall to Henry's room. He gives her hand a little squeeze of encouragement as she knocks on the frame of the door, and he follows her in as Henry turns in his desk chair, his eyes immediately falling to the letter in her free hand.

"I was… thinking we should talk about this."

"Oh," Henry murmurs as he looks back to her, watching as she sits down on the edge of his bed. "Where did you find that?"

"In the hallway," she admits. "With a stack of others, just like it."

"I… just…applied to–"

"A ton of really good schools."

He shrugs. "The school counselor said we should apply to at least–" His voice fades when Regina's brow arches. "They all have really great writing programs."

"I figured."

"I still haven't ruled out staying here, though. Storybrooke is still an option."

"Is that why you didn't tell me about the scholarship you got to Columbia? You're… considering staying here?"

He shrugs. "I mean, the school here isn't–"

"It isn't Columbia, Henry," Regina says as Robin squeezes her hand supportively. "And it can't offer you what Columbia can." Looking down at her lap, she grins a little–and as she looks up, she catches his grin. He looks like he's proud. "This is the school you really want, isn't it?"

"I… think so," Henry admits a bit sheepishly. "Maybe."

"A little something told me."

He blinks. "Was it Robyn? She was trying to pick the lock on my desk drawer," he tells her, rolling his eyes. "That's why I moved them to my backpack."

"She… told me about that," Regina says. "She felt bad, but she really likes that book stamp you have."

"The one with my name on it?"

"She wanted to stamp her books, like you stamp yours."

Henry grins. "That's… kind of cute."

"It is," Regina agrees, glancing over at Robin, she shakes her head and laughs, then looks back to Henry. "But Robyn didn't tell me. The date on the postage stamp did," she says, deciding that's the more logical explanation. "You applied early."

"Oh, yeah…"

"I… think you should go."

He blinks. "To Columbia?"

"Yes," she nods. "And I think you think you should, too."

"But it's in New York."

She shrugs. "That's… just a few hours away." A little laugh escapes her. "And it's closer than some of the other schools you applied to, which I think can be our compromise."

Henry's brow arches. "We're compromising?"

"Yes," she tells him, with a decisive nod. "You choose a school that you want to go to that allows you to come home regularly and allows me to visit occasionally, and I won't do something crazy like, curse the townline to prevent you from leaving or move to… oh, say… California because you decided to go to school there."

At that, Henry laughs. "Mom…"

"You think I'm joking."

"Oh, no," he says, shaking his head, "I know you're not." And then, a little smile stretches across his lips. "And I don't want to be that far away, anyway." He shrugs. "I'd miss you… and your food."

Regina's eyes roll as she pushes herself up and wraps her arms around him, pulling him closer to her. "I love you," she tells him as she bends to drop a kiss to the top of his head. "And I appreciate you considering my feelings in all of this." She sighs as she lets him go. "But this is your decision, and no matter what you choose, I'm going to respect it and support it."

"Thanks, Mom."

"So… it's… definitely Columbia?"

Henry nods. "I think so."

"Good," she says, behind this time to kiss his forehead. "Dinner should be ready in about a half an hour."

Henry nods and grins up at her. "I'll be down in twenty to set the table."

Nodding she takes a breath and pulls away from him, and Robin follows her into the hallway–and as soon as their out of Henry's room, Robin's arms fold around her. She clutches at the back of his shirt and rests her on his shoulder.

"That was really hard," she admits. "Harder than it should have been."

"You didn't make it seem that way."

"Well, I couldn't–" She draws in a breath and looks at him. "Thank you."

"I didn't do anything, love. There's no need to thank me."

"That's not true," she says, taking his hand and leading him down the stairs. "Because if it weren't for you, I'd be a mess." She grins as she looks back to him, her eyes full of sincerity–and truly, she isn't sure what she'd do without his presence in her life–even as limited as it is. "You taught me that people who love each other are never far apart, and that's what's going to make it okay when he goes off to school."

"You know he'll be back."

"I know," she nods. "And I know I can visit, but…" She shrugs. "It won't ever be the same." Robin nods as they reach the bottom stair and he hooks his arm around her waist. Once more her head falls to his shoulder as they walk slowly together to the kitchen. "And you've taught me that… different isn't so bad. It's just…"

"Different."

Regina looks out the window. It was a cold, white, January day and Henry had just left to go back to school, which found her feeling a bit empty, but less so than she was two years before when he'd first gone away to school–and of course, Robin was there with her.

"I was wondering when you'd show up," she said leaning back into him as he rested his chin on her shoulder. "You've been awfully quiet for the last couple of days."

"I wanted to give you and Henry some time together without me lurking beside you."

A grin pulls onto her lips. "I like when you lurk beside me. I makes me feel like… you're…"

"Still here."

"Yeah…"

"Well, I am here, even if you don't see me."

"I know that," she murmurs. "Most of the time." Looking back at him, her brow creases. "But it was different this time. I couldn't feel you. It was like you weren't here at all."

"I… might've taken advantage of an opportunity that presented itself."

Turning, she folds her arms around his waist. "So, you did go somewhere else."

He offers her a sheepish grin. "It seemed like a good time, since Henry was home."

She nods. "Where though?"

Robin shrugs. "There was just something that needed my attention for a few days."

"You're being awfully coy," she says, pouting a bit as her brow furrows and her hand presses to his chest. "Did something… happen?"

"Not… exactly," he muses as her eyes widen. "It's nothing to worry over, I assure you."

"Is something going to happen?"

Something flashes behind his eyes and a little grin pulls onto his lips. "Something's always going to happen."

"Robin!" She sighs and pushes at his chest. "You're worrying me."

"Oh," he breathes out, shaking his head as he presses a kiss to her forehead. "I mean it, there's nothing to worry about. Truly."

"So, wherever you went off to, it's… it's about something good."

He nods. "Very good."

"And you're not going to tell me."

"Not even a hint."

Again, her brow furrows, but this time she grins. "You know I hate it when you do that."

"That's awfully strong wording," he tells her. "Especially considering–" His voice trails off and a little laugh bubbles out of him. "Never mind. I don't want to ruin the surprise."

"You're surprising me with something?" she asks, brightening. "I… didn't think this… worked like that. I didn't think you could interfere with things, just… observe them."

"This is… a slight exception," he tells her. "Though I didn't quite interfere, just… guided."

"Guided," she repeats, her eyes narrowing. "That sounds pretty similar to interfering."

Robin shakes his head. "It… skirts the line."

Regina's eyes roll, but she grins as his fingers knead her hips.

She knows that what he's able to do in this world is limited, and outside of her, he doesn't have any real contact with anyone. He's simply there, looming in the background, unable to participate. But there's something about the way he's acting–with the secret he's taunting–that makes her remember how things used to be between them, before they'd lost it all.

Now, she'd learned to be content with what she had–and what she had was something of a miracle. For years now, he's been by her side, fading in and out of her daily life, sharing moments they should've had together, counseling her when she needed it, comforting her when she needed that, and sometimes just being there. For years, he'd been with her, telling her stories and sharing jokes, reacting to the things he saw when he was with her. He kept her company throughout her day, and even when he didn't make his presence known to her, even when she couldn't see him, she could feel him.

But the last few days had been different–and now, he was alluding to something different, and she couldn't quite figure it out.

Her eyes narrowed.

He'd always been good at timing things–at choosing the exact moment to act or the exact moment to make his point, but those things were now out of his hands. And no matter what, it was never like him to be distant.

Henry was there though, and she focused her attention on him. He told her about his classes, the ups and downs of living in an apartment with three other young men his age, and a girl called Ella who worked at the library. Regina cooked for him and helped him with his laundry, and they watched movies and baked cookies, just like they'd done when he was little.

And every time she thought Robin was going to appear–typically he liked to see Henry, even if he couldn't interact with him–but he didn't, and she worried that something had changed, that something was wrong…

But he was there now. She could see him and feel him, he was talking to her and insisting that everything was alright–even if he was being coy–and she decided to let it go and enjoy having him back again.

They settled together on the couch and she cuddle into his side, breathing him in as she nuzzled closer. He asked about Henry's visit and that made her smile–and in turn, she made him smile when she shared that Henry had won a story contest for a short story he'd written about the legendary hero, Robin Hood, embracing and adjusting to the modern world.

Robin's eyes glittered with tears as she read him the passage that Henry had supplied her, and he sighed just as she had when Henry informed her that she'd have to wait to hear the rest when it was published in the school's literary magazine–and just as she had, she could tell he was bursting with pride.

Though Robin hadn't been in Henry's life for very long, they'd been close during that time. Robin was such a father–it was part of who he was–and both cautiously and graciously, he'd stepped into that role with Henry. He was supportive and encouraging, he genuinely cared for him. They'd formed a bond that lasted through death, and she loved the way her son remembered him–a hero through and through.

She leans forward to grab the excerpt of the story that Henry had left for her, and she hands it to Robin before settling back against him and resting her head on his shoulder. She tilts her eyes up and turns a bit, a little grin forms over her lips as she watches the way he reads it–the way his eyes move over the words and the way his smile brightens at certain details.

Her eyes begin to grow heavy, and finally they sink closed as she draws in a breath, slowly releasing it as he hugs her a little closer–and in moments like these, it's so easy for her to forget that he wasn't actually there with her…

She flinches as the doorbell rings, and she sighs a bit regretfully as Robin fades–just as he always does when someone unexpected arrives–and Henry's story floats down to the empty space beside her.

"You don't have to do that," she mutters, getting up and crossing the room. "Only I can see you, and–"

She stops and rolls her eyes, suddenly very aware she seems like a crazy woman, talking to herself, which is likely exactly what he wants to avoid. It was bad enough that Robyn had caught her once, declaring Robin to be frustratingly stubborn, and at four-years old and with no reason to think otherwise, she assumed Regina was talking to her. After that, as painful as it was for both of them, he tried to be more careful about who was around when he was near her.

Finally, she reaches the door and pulls it open, and as soon as she does, any annoyance she felt at the disruption vanishes.

Tears fill her eyes and she blinks them away as she looks at the boy standing in front of her. She recognized him instantly despite the years that had passed, and though he was taller and older, he still had the same messy curls and dimpled cheeks she'd fallen in love with in the Enchanted Forest. He was wearing a long green cape and heavy boots, just as he had been then, and when he smiled, his eyes glittered, just like his father's.

"Regina," he says in a soft, hopeful voice. "I don't–"

She doesn't let him finish.

Instead, she steps forward and wraps her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as she can. He laughs a little as he squirms, but she doesn't let go and after a few attempts, he stops trying. "Roland," she breathes out. "I can't tell you how glad I am to see you." She presses a kiss to his temple, again, making him squirm. "Or how much I've missed you."

He chuckles softly and finally, he manages to push her back–and when he does, he smiles. "I'm glad to see you, too."

"How are you here?"

At that, he looks away, his lip catching between his teeth. "I… ran away."

"You…"

"I missed home."

Her chest tightens at them mention of home, and when he looks up at her with wide eyes that plead not to be sent back, she can't find it in herself to care much what the Merry Men are thinking–they certainly hadn't given her feelings any thought eight years before when they'd decided to take him.

Reaching for him, she pulls him back to her, this time kissing his forehead as she pulls him into the house. She helps him take off his cape and he asks her if the carpets are still white, and when she nods, he takes off his muddy boots and sets them beside a pair of her stilettos.

She takes him by the hand and leads him up the stairs from the foyer, and when they reach the top, Robin is back and leaning against the banister. He's smiling and his eyes are teary, and its only then that she remembers his coy explanation of his disappearance.

"How did you say you got here?" she asks, looking back to Roland. "Crossing realms is… impossible without magic."

He nods. "I practiced."

At that, her eyes widen. "Magic?"

"No," he admits. "I can't. I tried, but I can't." And then he grins. "But I can grow things and I finally found a way to grow magic beans." Her eyes narrow a bit as she looks to Robin, who only shrugs as knowing smile crosses his lips. "An old man at a market in a town we were passing through sold me a satchel of seeds to grow magic beans and they worked! They actually worked!"

"Did they?"

He nods, "And once they were strong enough, I opened a portal." He pauses, his brow furrowing in concern. "I left a note though. They know where I am. I didn't just want to disappear."

"That was… thoughtful," she tells him, trying not to dwell on how she'd returned to Storybrooke to find them gone with not so much as a goodbye.

He shrugs as he looks around the living room. It's mostly unchanged with the exception of a few new pictures–and she watches as Roland slowly moves to the mantle and picks up a picture of Henry holding Robyn on his lap at his graduation party. He smiles at it, though sadly–and it's a look she's given that picture a hundred times. Roland should have been in it. He should have been there for that party, and a thousand other memories Henry and Robyn shared. He should have grown up with them and the fact that he hasn't makes her heart ache.

Robin comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. "He's finally where he's meant to be."

"Did you give him the bean?" she whispers, looking back at him from over her shoulder. "Did you make this happen?"

Robin shakes his head. "I only made sure he stayed safe on his journey. That was all I could do. If there was a way I could've brought him back to you, I'd have done it years ago."

"Did you get my feather?" She looks back to Roland who is looking at her with wide eyes, and for a moment, she thinks she's been caught. And then, he bites down on his lip. "I gave it to Zelena before we left. Did she give it to you."

"She… meant to," Regina admits. "But it somehow got lost."

"Oh…"

"That doesn't matter now, because I have you again."

"He's where he always should have been," Robin says.

Regina pulls him back to her and Robin chuckles softly as she peppers him with kisses until he's laughing and squirming in her arms. Finally, he lets him go and a smile stretches across her lips. "And you know what else?" She asks, glancing quickly to Robin before looking back at Roland. "I think your dad would be happy that you're here."

"Really?" he asks a bit tentatively. "You think so? I know how much he loved the forest."

Regina nods, one more glance at Robin. "He did, but he loved his family more, and I think he'd want his family to be together."

This time, it's Roland who does the hugging. He steps in and wraps his arms around her middle, squeezing tightly as he holds onto her–and when she looks up, she sees Robin watching with a nearly pained look. She's not sure what he's thinking, but she can almost feel his need to hug his son and how much it hurts to have him so close and not be able to reach out to him.

"You know," Regina says, looking down at Roland as she pushes his curls away from his face. "I think we need to celebrate your homecoming."

"Yeah?" he asks. "It's… kind of late."

She nods. "I can make you dinner, and we can have ice cream, and I know you're practically grown up, but I'd really love to cuddle up with you on the couch and… just catch up."

He nods a bit sheepishly. "I'd like that."

"Maybe we could… talk about what happened with your dad, a bit?"

Again Roland nods. "I miss him."

"I know."

"And that's part of why I wanted to come back. I feel closer to him here," he tells her. "It's funny because as soon as I made the decision to leave, I felt like he was… there."

"What do you mean?"

"All of the sudden he was stronger."

Regina smiles as she looks up at Robin, watching as he draws in a breath–and now, she understands why he disappeared. "So, what do you want to do first?"

"Honestly?" Roland asks, looking up at her. "I want to take a shower."

"A shower," she repeats, laughing softly. "That's the thing you want to do most?"

Roland nods. "A shower with hot water and soap."

Robin laughs a little and shakes his head, and for a moment, their eyes lock as she remembers the night they returned from Camelot. Everyone was terrified about what the Dark One would do and how that power would change Emma, and they'd all worried themselves to the point of exhaustion. That first night, Robin fell into bed and he'd expected her to follow, but instead she'd gone into the bathroom and taken the longest shower she could allow herself.

"Come on," she says, stretching her arm around his shoulders and leading him toward the stairs. "You can take a shower, and I'll get your room ready."

Roland grins when she kisses his temple, and Robin follows as they make their way up the stairs. She gets him a few towels and hands him a brand new bottle of soap, and he nods when asked if he remembers how to use the shower. She waits until the door closes and when it does, Robin's hand settles on her hip.

"You didn't do this?" she asks, looking to him. "You didn't bring him here?"

"No," he admits, shaking his head. "Like I said, I could only watch to make sure he traveled safely."

"And he's not in trouble? He just left without–"

"He wanted to come home," Robin says, cutting in as his voice cracked. "I can't tell you how much he's missed being here, how much he's missed you."

"But–"

Robin chuckles softly and shakes his head. "Don't try to find a reason for this to be wrong," he tells her. "He felt at home here, and he lost that connection to the Enchanted Forest. He barely remembers living there with me, and the things he does remember, include you." He grins a little. "You left quite a mark on him, you know."

"Me leaving a mark is rarely a good thing."

"This time, it is," Robin tells her. "Even if it means my son doesn't much like camping and would rather take luxurious showers."

Her eyes roll. "Only you would consider a shower a luxury."

Robin doesn't respond to that, instead he takes her hand and leads her toward Roland's bedroom–a room she hasn't entered in eight years. Her breath catches in her throat as he opens the door, and she feels a rush of emotion, remembering the little boy they'd left behind when they went to the Underworld. They'd promised him they'd be back before he missed them, and they'd promised him they'd returned, they'd be together again, that they'd be a family again.

It was a promise that she hadn't been able to keep.

"This room looks like it was meant for a six-year old," she tells him, pushing back her tears.

"Well, it was," he reasons. "But something tells me he'll be happy to see it."

She nods and draws in a breath as she reaches for the closet door–and when she finds a little boy's clothes hanging there, forgotten, she presses her eyes closed and waves her hand, changing the clothes to something more suitable for a teenager. She changes his sheets, too, and adds some of the books and movies to his shelf that Henry liked at his age, and for a moment, she lingers on the titles he'd enjoyed as a little boy.

"I feel like everything's right again in my world," Robin tells her, almost laughing as he sits down on the edge of Roland's bed and brings her back into the moment. "This is a good day."

"It is," she agrees, nodding as she magics a pair of green flannel pajamas and with a flick of her wrist, she sends them into the bathroom, so Roland will have something warm and clean to change into once his shower is done. Robin reaches for her and tugs her down beside him. Her head falls to his shoulder and she thinks about the pained look in his eyes as Roland first came into the house, and it makes her heart ache. "But things aren't quite right in my world."

"No?"

"You're not here, Robin, not really. You can't enjoy being with your son. You can't even have a conversation with him." She reaches out and strokes the back of his fingers over his cheek. "It's not fair."

"But I get to see the young man he's grown into, and hear the conversations you'll have with him."

"That's not enough."

"For me, it has to be," Robin sighs as he takes her hand and presses a kiss to her palm. "And you'll just have to love him enough for the both of us."

Regina's throat tightens at his request. Loving Roland has never been an issue, but there's something about the way he'd looked at her when he said it, something about the uncertainty that rises into his voice and the way his eyes pleaded with her when he asked her to love his son for him that makes it slightly harder to breathe.

She manages a nod and he smiles, again kissing her hand, but before she can make a proper reply, she hears the bathroom door open and the exhaust fans get louder as Roland pads into his room and Robin drops her hand.

She grins as she takes him in as he rubs the towel over his his hair. He's wearing the pajamas she set out for him–the green flannel bottoms seem to fit and he wears the top open with his white undershirt exposed, just as Henry had done as a teenager–and as she looks at him, it suddenly occurs to her how much she's missed. He looks more like Robin now than he did when he was little. He still has Marian's dark eyes and olive-toned skin, his hair is still a messy mop on his head, but his jaw is set like his father's and he carries himself in a similar way.

Regina grins as he pulls the towel away from his hair, shaking his his head as he pushes his fingers into his hair, separating out the already-forming curls.

"Oh," he murmurs, his eyes widening slightly, suddenly aware that she's sitting on his bed.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

"You didn't," Roland replies easily, his eyes shifting to the hamper he'd never quite understood how to use. "That felt really good," he tells her as he opens the lid and drops in the towel. "The soap smelled nice, too."

She nods. "Well, you know I'm quite particular about my showers."

"I remember," he says, grinning as he looks to her. "My dad used to tease you about it."

Her eyes roll as they slide to Robin and he chuckles softly. "He… absolutely did."

She watches as Roland moves around the room, taking in the details. His fingers glide along the edge of the dresser as he opens a little trinket box, laughing when he finds it full of stickers and lost buttons. He closes it and smiles at his collection of stuffed animals before stooping down at the bookshelf, plucking out his one-favorite copy of Goodnight Moon. "My dad never quite got this book, but I loved when he read it to me."

"I still don't," Robin frowns. "The kid was just trying to stay up an extra ten minutes by saying goodnight to rocks and chairs."

Regina sighs and rolls her eyes. "He loved reading it to you, though."

"I did," Robin agrees as Roland pushes the book back to the shelf. "I loved every minute I spent reading that awful little book."

"Are these some of Henry's books?" Roland asks, looking back at her. "Some sound familiar."

"I set aside the ones I thought you might like, just…" Her voice trails off before she admits that she's been storing things away for him for years. "I moved them in here tonight."

Roland smiles and looks back to the shelf. "I remember when he read this," he tells her, chuckling softly. "Mostly because he wouldn't play with me."

"I remember."

"I remember the endless complaining," Robin sighs as Regina looks to him, grinning–and then, a little gasp escapes Robin and she follows his gaze back to Roland. "Is that…?"

A little smile tug onto his lips as he looks around, and she watches as his eyes settle on an arrow leaning against the wall. "That was the first one I shot," Roland tells her as he looks back to her. "My dad was so proud when it actually went somewhere."

"I was proud. I'm always proud of him."

Regina laughs softly at the memory, "I nearly had a heart attack when it stuck into the tree and I realized he gave you a real arrow to shoot."

Roland laughs. "I remember that, too." Regina watches as he crosses the room and picks up the arrow. "I'm a pretty good shot, now," he tells her. "Not as good as my dad, but pretty good."

"That doesn't surprise me, and–" A grin pulls onto her lips as she looks to Robin. "Your dad was one of a kind."

"This… is going to sound insane," Roland says as he looks down at the arrow as her twirls it between his fingers. "I can feel him sometimes… like he's… watching or something."

"That doesn't sound insane," she tells him as her eyes slide to Robin. "Not at all."

"It's stronger here," Roland tells her, looking up and unknowingly looking directly at his father. "And I feel like if he could be anywhere in any world, this is where he'd be." He grins as he looks to Regina. "He was so happy here."

Regina nods as a lump rises into her throat and she hears Robin release a shaky breath, but when she glances over at him, he's smiling. "I can feel him, too," she admits. "And sometimes, I'm convinced he's here with me." At that, Robin chuckles softly as he reaches up and rubs his hand over her back. "Your sister feels it, too."

Roland's eyes widen. "Robyn's here?"

"She's sleeping."

"Oh…"

"You can see her in the morning," Regina tells him. "She's like your dad. She's an obnoxiously early riser, and the second she finds out that you're here, you won't be able to get her away from you."

Roland grins–and then it fades. "She doesn't remember me. She can't."

"You're right, she doesn't remember you," Regina says gently. "But your sister knows you. She talks about you all of the time, you're like a mythical being to her."

"I hope I don't disappoint her."

"You won't," Regina tells him, rising up from the bed. "But until tomorrow, I am going to enjoy having you all to myself." Reaching out she rubs the back of her fingers over his cheek. "Are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry."

"Somethings never change," she laughs as she stretches her arm around his shoulders and turns him toward the door. "I want to spoil you. I'll make you anything you want." Her eyes narrow. "What do you like to eat these days? I'll make anything. Pheasant stew or roasted squirrel or–"

"How about lasagna," Roland cuts in. "And ice cream after?"

Regina laughs and nods as she leans in and presses a kiss to his temple. "Oh, thank god," she breathes out. "I was afraid my whole house was going to end up smelling like Enchanted Forest delicacies."

Roland blinks. "If I never eat another fig, it'll be too soon."

She laughs again as she presses a kiss to his hair, leading him back down stairs as Robin follows along behind them–and she grins as Roland climbs onto the stool where he'd always sat to have his breakfast, and Robin sits down beside him. Her throat tightens when she sees Robin try to reach for him, but Roland doesn't flinch and she has to look away, momentarily busying herself with filling a pot of water to boil her noodles–a task that's pointless, considering that, if she wanted to, she could magic the meal together in minutes–to give herself a second to compose herself.

"Chocolate or vanilla… or mint chip or…cookie dough… or….?" she asks, clearing her throat as her voice trails off and she turns to the refrigerator, gathering together what she needs for the lasagna before pulling open the freezer. "Your choice."

"No Chunky Monkey?"

Biting down on her lip, she spots are carton in the back and pulls it out. She doesn't remember buying it, but it's still sealed, and she assumes Robyn tossed it in the cart without her noticing the last time she took her grocery shopping. "It's your lucky day," she tells him as she shows him the carton. "Two scoops? Three? Just want to eat from the container?"

Roland blinks. "Is that a real question?"

"Container it is."

"I can't believe you actually have it," Roland says, giggling as she sets everything down on the counter top and hands him a spoon before tugging the seal off of the ice cream carton. "Any flavor would have been fine."

"Well," she says, shaking her head. "You can thank your sister for this."

He grins. "Does she look like him?"

"Robyn?" She asks, considering for a moment. "She does."

"I thought she would," he tells her as she pushes the carton towards him and grabs a spoon for herself. "She had his eyes."

"And coloring and dimples," Regina tells him, smiling. "And his name."

"She's a miniature Robin Hood."

Regina nods. "So are you," she tells him sincerely. "You've always been a lot like him."

"He's the best parts of his mother and I," Robin adds. "And you, too." Regina's eyes shift to Robin and he grins. "Where do you think he got his tenacity? The boy spent eight years trying to grow a bean. I'd have given up long ago… and found one to steal instead."

She grins and nods, once more swallowing a lump that rises into the back of her throat. "You're the perfect mix of your parents," she says, looking back to Roland as she dips her own spoon into the ice cream. "So, tell me what you've been up to since leaving Storybrooke. I want to hear everything."

Roland laughs. "Living in the woods… and… raiding carriages."

Her brow furrows. "That sounds dangerous."

Roland shrugs. "It was fun. I was the distraction," he tells her as he takes a second spoonful of ice cream. "And I told you already, I learned to shoot arrows."

She nods as she hears the water beginning to boil. "Who taught you?"

"John."

"I figured," she muses as she drops the noodles into the water. "So–"

A little gasp interrupts her thoughts and she stops and turns, her breath catching when she spots Robyn standing at the threshold of the kitchen, her eyes focused on her brother.

"I thought you were talking to daddy," the little girl says, not looking away. "But–"

"Peanut," Regina murmurs as she crosses the kitchen and takes her hand. "There's someone I want you to meet."

"Roland," she murmurs as a nervously little grin edges onto her lips. "That's Roland."

"It is," Regina confirms as she lifts her up onto the stool beside him. "He's going to live here now. You'll get to see him whenever you visit."

"I visit a lot," Robyn says, giggling shyly as she looks between them. "Do you know how to shoot arrows?"

Regina laughs and Roland nods. "Yeah. We were just talking about that."

"Can you teach me?"

"Sure," Roland nods as he looks to Regina, not seeing that Robin's slid off of the stool beside him and is now standing next to Regina, holding onto her hand. "That'd be really fun."

"It looks fun."

"It's… a little dangerous."

"Not if it's done properly," Robin says. "And I'm sure you'll be out buying rubber arrows first thing tomorrow."

Her eyes roll, but she nods as Robin's arm slides around her waist and he rests his head on her shoulder and they watch as Roland grins awkwardly at Robyn as he reaches across the counter and grabs another spoon, then holds it out to her. "Do you like Chunky Monkey?"

Robyn's eyes light up and she nods, taking the spoon. "It's my favorite!"

"Mine, too," Roland tells her, pushing the carton toward her. "Want some?"

Robyn nods and pushes her spoon in, taking too large of a scoop, just like Roland used to when he was little. Swallowing hard, Regina looks to Robin. His eyes are teary, but he's smiling. "Like I said," he whispers as he looks to her. "All is right in my world."

As limited as Robin's life was, he was able to enjoy the moments he'd otherwise have missed.

Robin was there the day that Henry moved home from college. He'd directed her as she carried boxes that she could barely see over down to the basement, and then, three months later, he did the same as she carried them up the stairs and to the moving truck the afternoon that Henry and Ella moved into their first apartment. He went with her as she picked out a housewarming gift, and he was there the night that Henry proposed to Ella. He held her hand as she paced around the hospital on the day that Ella went into labor, and he was the first to see Henry's smile as he announced that Ella had given birth to a baby girl they'd named Lucy. He sat beside her as she held her granddaughter for the first time, and he was at every birthday party that followed.

He was there to see Roland graduate high school, and he'd brimmed with pride when Roland took a job in Storybrooke as a park ranger, a job he'd once eyed for himself as he planned his future with Regina and their kids. He got to see the good-hearted and compassionate man his little boy grew into, and he was able to accompany him on adventures rafting and ziplining and fishing. He laughed along with Lucy when Roland carried her on hikes through the woods and taught her to catch fireflies, and he stood beside his son as he coached Lucy's first soccer team. And, he was there the night Roland brought a sweet girl named Tiana home to meet Regina. Regina made a big dinner that night and as Roland walked Tiana to her car, he helped her clear the table and told her they'd just met the girl Roland was going to spend the rest of his life with.

And then, there was Robyn.

When he died, he wasn't entirely sure what would happen to his daughter. He imagined himself raising her with Regina, but it was a sensitive subject, and he knew it was difficult for Regina to discuss, so he'd avoided the topic. Then when it was time to talk, everything happened so quickly and they'd never gotten the chance.

He'd been lingering with her, desperately trying to catch her attention when he found her standing on Zelena's doorstep. He'd held his breath and listened carefully as Regina told her sister that she meant to be a part of Robyn's life and she was the closest thing the baby girl would have to her father. Zelena balked at first, but Regina insisted, and to his relief, they'd worked out an arrangement that allowed Regina to be a part of Robyn's life.

And, in turn, allowed him to be a part of her life.

He was there for everything–from her first steps to the first time she'd skinned her knees, to her first day of school and her first archery lesson with her brother, to the first time magic had tingled at her finger tips. He'd stumbled upon her first kiss and held Regina's hand as Robyn gushed about her crush on Alice.

And now, he was present for her wedding.

He stood there, watching as Regina adjusted her veil–watching the beautiful woman his little girl had grown into. When he looked at her, he still saw the tiny baby he'd held in his arms, wrapped in her pink blanket as she looked up at him, watching him with wide eyes as she cooed and blew spit bubbles.

"I wish my dad was here," she says as she smoothes her hands over the lacy bodice of her dress. "I mean, I know that he's… kind of here… but…"

"I know," Regina nods, looking at him through the mirror. "It's not the same. He's here though, and he's so proud of you."

"I am," Robin confirms with a nod. "I always have been."

"Are you nervous?" Regina asks, taking a step back and grinning at the way the veil falls down the back of her dress. "It's quite a step you're taking."

Robyn's eyes narrow. "Is it weird that I'm not? I'm just… excited."

"No," Regina says, smiling easily as she thinks of Robin and how she felt when she finally stopped fighting her feelings for him. "And you've got a lot to be excited about."

"I can't wait to be able to call her my wife. I've been thinking about this day for… months." Regina grins as Robyn looks at her through the mirror, then turns to face her. "Do you… ever think about what it'd have been like to marry my dad?"

"All of the time."

"You'd have made a beautiful bride."

"Maybe," Regina murmurs as her eyes shift to Robin.

They'd never been able to settle down long enough to talk it out, but that was the direction they both knew they'd been going in. They were building a life together with their children. They shared common values and goals, and it was only a matter of time before they made things official.

But time had never been on their side.

"I'm happy with what we did have."

Robyn nods and smiles a bit sadly. "I, um… I saved him a seat."

"What?" Regina's eyes shift to Robin then back. "For who?"

"For my dad," she explains as her smile brightens. "You and I both know that he's here with you. And… that should've been his seat anyway."

She hesitates then nods, this time looking longer in Robin's direction. "He is here."

"You know, it's weird," Robyn says as she looks to the blank space where Regina stares. "The two of you were… a perfect couple."

"We… were anything but."

"You two taught me everything I believe about love–from its strength to its magic, and… I'm just really glad I got to grow up with that." Taking a breath, she looks back to Regina. "I might not be standing here about to marry the love of my life if it weren't for that."

Regina feels a rush of emotion as she steps toward Robyn, pushing her hand gently up over her cheek. "You'd be here," she tells her in a voice that's full of confidence. "True love has a way of working itself out and finding you, even when you're not looking for it."

Robyn grins. "Are you talking about me and Alice, or you and dad?"

"Both."

Robyn's cheeks flush and she looks away shyly, giggling softly as she looks back up. "You know, I hate to turn you away, but my mother has been out there all alone for like… half an hour."

Regina's eyes widen as she sighs. "That's far too long to leave her unattended."

"Honestly, I'm surprised she's not serenading the crowd already."

Robin's eyes roll. "Something we can all be grateful for."

At that, Regina chuckles softly. "You want me to go wrangle her, and make sure she's staying out of trouble?"

"Please."

"Okay," Regina murmurs, leaning in a pressing a soft kiss to Robyn's cheek. "Do you want me to send her in?"

Robyn considers it for a moment, looking around the room until her eyes settle on her own reflection in the mirror. "No, I just… I have to get my something borrowed and something blue together." Robyn's brow furrows. "It's here… under… something… I think."

Regina laughs. "Sure you don't need help?"

"Positive."

"Okay," Regina murmurs, leaning in and pressing another quick kiss to Robyn's cheek. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

She lingers for a moment, watching her–watching her and thinking of all the moments that should have been a part of this day. Robyn is so much like her father, and she knows they'd have been close–and she knows that so many of the decisions she and Alice made about their wedding took into consideration his absence. He wouldn't be there to walk her down the aisle or share in a first dance, and though there were substitutes, it wasn't quite the same–and that wasn't quite fair.

Her chest begins to tighten as Robin reaches for her hand, lacing his fingers through hers, giving her hand a slight tug as he leads her out into the hall.

"Are you alright? You're in tears."

"I'm fine. I just–"

His brow arches. "Regina. Today's a happy day."

Sighing, her eyes fall away from his. "I know that. I am happy for her," she admits. "And I know that I shouldn't be the one who's upset."

"Should I be upset?"

Nodding, she looks back to him. "You should be here."

"I am here."

"Not like you should be."

"I've made peace with it."

She nods. "I know, and so have I. It's just…"

Her voice trails off and she looks away, and gently, he reaches out and tips her chin up. "It's harder on some days."

"Yeah."

"For me it's birthdays, our anniversary–"

She blinks. "Our anniversary? I didn't know we had one. We just… sort of happened, and we had so many different firsts."

"Our timeline's a bit messy, that's certainly true," he says as a chuckle rises into his voice. "But there was one particular moment, one particular first, that made me realize you and I were going to be together forever."

She offers him a lopsided grin. "Who knew forever meant like this."

"I'd rather have this than nothing at all."

"Me too," she admits. "Even if it's never been enough."

Robin draws in a breath as his hand slips into his pocket, and she watches curiously as he fishes something out and holds it, closed in his fist. "The night you walked into my camp and kissed me changed everything."

His hand coasts over her jaw and she turns her cheek, nuzzling against his hand as her eyes close and she remembers that cool, fall night. Her stomach had been in knots and with every step she took, she told herself that it wasn't too late to turn back, and then he'd spotted her. He'd risen up from his spot in front of the fire and met her the rest of the way, and when she kissed him, it was like nothing she'd ever felt before.

Kissing him sent a bolt a electricity through her and made every inch of her tingle and he made her feel so alive. Yet as thrilling and exciting as it was to be with him in that way, there was also something comforting about it, something that felt so right and familiar.

She hadn't known their past then. She didn't know how they'd fought and bantered in the Enchanted Forest, and the passionate nights they spent together were lost. But somehow, standing there in the woods with him, holding onto each other as they searched the other's eyes, something clicked. She'd known and he'd known it, and for the first time in longer than she could remember, she let herself be cared for, she let herself be vulnerable, and she let herself be loved.

"I remember…"

He sighs and when she looks up at him, she can see that he, too, is caught up in the nostalgia. "I was going to bring you back to that spot," he says as their eyes meet again. "I was going to set up a fire and a little table, and a tent. I'd have made you dinner and–"

"Robin–"

"I was going to propose."

"When?" she breathes out. "We never had time to even discuss it."

"When things settled," he murmurs. "After we came back from the Underworld, after we'd had some time to adjust–" His voice halts as she releases a shaky breath, and in spite of how painful it is to be talking about what should have been for them, he smiles. "I had a ring."

Her brows arch as her as her eyes fall to his closed fist. "That's not–"

He opens his hand and balanced on the tip of his finger is the ring he'd planned on giving her. "I had it in my pocket the day I died. I always carried it with me, and–"

"Why didn't you ever mention that? All these years you've been with me, you never said anything about it." She feels tears welling in her eyes as she looks to him. "You've had it all this time?"

He shrugs his shoulders as he looks down at the ring. "It seemed unfair."

Drawing in a breath, she takes the ring from his finger and holds it between hers, looking down at the round diamond surrounded by a halo of smaller ones in a millegrain setting. "It's…"

"Both simple and complicated, a mix of old world and modern," he murmurs. "The jeweler said it was Edwardian, but I'm not sure what that means. I just know that I saw it and… it was the only one I could picture you wearing."

"It's beautiful."

"I know that it's not quite the same and doesn't have the meaning it should've, but… it should have been yours years ago."

Blinking, she looks to him. "Are you… giving this to me?"

Robin offers her a sheepish grin. "I know it's late, and I'd never want to steal Robyn's thunder, but the… twenty-five years does mark the silver anniversary and it is a silver ring."

"That's today?"

He nods. "Twenty-five years ago today."

"I didn't–"

"You weren't meant to keep track."

"But–"

"No," he cuts in, reaching up to cradle her face. "Today is a happy day, remember? Only happy tears."

She nods, blinking back her tears as she looks to him. "You realize you don't get this back."

"I figured as much," he tells her, laughing softly. "And it was always meant to be yours."

Swallowing hard, he steps back, letting his hands fall away from her. "Should we do this properly?"

Grinning, watches as he takes the ring from her, holding it out as he reaches for her left hand–and then, she finds herself suddenly smiling. "Would you… be upset if I weren't the first to wear it?" He blinks, puzzled as his head tips to the side. "I just… I think it might be nice if… if this could be your daughter's "something borrowed."" Regina shrugs. "It'd… make her feel like you were a part of her wedding day, and not just as some figment of her crazy aunt's imagination."

Letting out a shaky breath, he nods. "I'd like that."

Taking his head, she leads him back to the door and knocks gently, waiting for Robyn to call for her to come in. She takes the ring as she turns the handle, blinking back her tears and putting on her cheeriest smile as she enters the tiny dressing room.

"You know, I was thinking," Regina begins as she looks to Robyn. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Robyn sighs and holds out her palm. "I found one of my mother's earrings."

A soft chuckle bubbles up from her. "Well, first of all, those are my earrings, and second, I think maybe you were meant to lose them."

"Oh, I didn't lose them. They're–"

"I have something better for you to borrow." Robyn's brow furrows as she looks to her. "But I'd like to emphasize, you're just borrowing this."

"Regina, what–"

Robyn's voice halts as she looks down at thing ring in Regina's palm. "This would've been the ring your dad gave me if he'd had the chance to propose."

Her eyes widen. "Where did this come from?" A grin edges onto Regina's lips as she looks to Robin, standing at her side. "D-did… my dad… give this to you?"

Regina nods, as she reaches for Robyn's right hand and slips the ring onto her finger. "And he'd want you to wear it today. It'd… make him feel like he was a part of this."

"That's…" Robyn's voice hitches in her throat as tears well in her eyes, and when she tries again to speak, her words fail her. So, instead, she pushes herself forward and wraps her arms around Regina. "Thank you," she breathes out. "And thank him for me, too."

"I will," Regina murmurs, hugging her back as she watches Robin step forward, tentatively reaching out to stroke his daughter's hair, but his hand falls through her. He steps back and his eyes cast down, and Regina feels warm tears burning in her eyes as she gently pushes Robyn back. "Okay," she says, drawing in a breath in an effort to maintain composure. "I told you I'd go and wrangle your mother, so I will. Are you sure there isn't something else you need?"

"You've… you've done more than enough."

Pressing a quick kiss to Robyn's cheek, Regina turns out of the room and takes Robin by the hand. She pulls him close as they walk into down the stairs and join the rest of the guests, and to her relief, Zelena is occupied in a conversation with Hook. She grins back at Robin as she leads him to the front of the room, and together they take their seats.

Regina's eyes flutter open, and she feels… not quite herself.

She's oddly light, and the room is cooler and darker than she remembered it being. There's a dim light overhead and the sound of the heart monitor that's kept her up at night is fainter than it was before. It's better, she thinks, wondering privately, if her constant complaints to her nurses have finally paid off–and then, as she tries to draw in a breath, she finds it difficult, like her lungs no longer work.

Panic starts to set in as she tries again–and then, trembling her eyes press closed and she reaches up, placing her hand over her chest.

She can't feel her own heartbeat, she realizes, and that can only mean one thing…

It takes her a moment to compose herself, to stop the warm tears from welling up and burning in her eyes. Slowly, her eyes open and she looks down at her hands as she stretches them out in front of herself–and, in spite of herself, a little grin edges onto her lips. Her skin is tighter, the age spots and blemishes are gone, and she can't help but notice that the nagging ache at her knuckles that plagued her for the last several years is entirely gone.

Pulling herself up, she finds that she moves easier–the way that she once did–and as she swings her legs over the edge of the bed, she looks back and sees herself still laying there as if enjoying a peaceful night's sleep. It's strange, she thinks, to be looking at another, older version of herself, to be separate and about to move independently and–

Her thoughts come to a halt as she looks across the room to where Henry, Roland and Robyn are all lying, asleep on a too-small couch against the window. Her brow furrows as she remembers–remembering how she'd insisted on going grocery shopping alone, and how annoyed Roland had been when he caught her unloading the shopping bags from her trunk. She'd insisted that he was overreacting, quickly changing the subject to some smoked-salmon she'd got at the deli, offering to make him lunch–and when Robin's brow arched in concern, she'd ignored him and focused on their son's company.

Roland hovered, and it wasn't long before Henry was dropping in–likely because his brother called for reinforcements–and she'd rolled her eyes and told them she didn't need an intervention. Grocery shopping, after all, wasn't exactly a triathlon.

It'd been somewhere around then that she'd started to feel a bit restless–her chest tight and a dull ache at her neck and jaw–but she'd ignored it, not wanting to give them any more reason to worry. She'd felt a little dizzy and short of breath, so she'd suggested they all go and sit down in the living room–and that's when it happened.

The rest was foggy and she felt herself fading in and out. She'd put together enough of the puzzle pieces to know that she'd had a heart attack–and she remembered thinking at one point that it'd be rather fitting for her, the once terrible Evil Queen, to die of a bad heart.

Her eyes remain on her children–sleeping soundly and unaware–and then panic begins to set in again.

She wasn't always good.

Her heart is bruised and battered and black, and there wasn't much she could do about that.

She thinks about the terror she instilled in innocent people, the lives she gleefully took, the people she lashed out at because she was hurting, the villages she burned and the children she left orphaned. She cursed a population and took pleasure in their ignorance. For years, she'd done horrendous things and for years she tried makeup for them.

She'd reached a point where she didn't think of those dark years; yet now, it's all she could think of, and she couldn't help but wonder if the amends she made were enough.

Tears brim in her eyes and her chest tightens as a shallow breath escapes her at the realization that for the first time in decades, she's all alone.

Robin isn't there.

And she can only assume what that means.

Her jaw starts to tremble as she stands, keeping her eyes focused on her children. She has nothing to cry about. She lived a life longer than most were given. Despite the loneliness of her earliest years, her life had been full of love. She'd raised a son, helped to raise Robin's children, and eventually got to help them raise children of their own. She had friends, a large extended family, and City Hall now bared her name.

And all along, she'd had Robin at her side.

Of course, there had been limitations to his presence in her life, and often it served as a reminder of everything they'd never have. But more times than not, she was just glad to have him in whatever way she could. She was glad to see him when she woke up and share little anecdotes about her day. They laughed together and he calmed her down when she was being irrational or over the top, and every night he held her until she fell asleep. They'd made plans for a future–which always seemed so distant to her–and he'd always had such a steadfast belief that they'd spend eternity together.

She'd believed him, and he'd convinced her that she should.

But now–

Her eyes pinch closed. The thought of being separated from him now–seperated from all of them–is overwhelming. She swallows hard as she crosses the room. In spite of herself, she smiles at the way Robyn is curled up against Henry and the way his arm falls loosely around her. Roland is at the other end of the couch, sprawled out in a way she can't imagine is comfortable, and it reminds her of the movie nights they used to have when Henry was home from college.

She'd make a big dinner, and afterward, they'd all change into pajamas and pile onto the couch. Henry and Roland always made the popcorn while Robyn chose a movie, and she always acted a bit surprised when they tugged her down onto the couch with them…

Tentatively, she reaches out to tuck a few strands of hair straying from Robyn's loose braid behind her ear, but her hands falls through her as if she weren't really there only inches away.

It shouldn't be unexpected, but it's like a punch to the gut–painful and sudden–and she remembers when Robin first came to her, how he'd tried to explain what it was like to visit Roland, to see him but never able to interact with him. She hadn't quite understood it and as the years passed, she never quite understood the way he'd take a few steps back to loom in the background whenever any of the kids were around. But now, it was painfully obvious– being near them was just too hard.

"M'lady…"

She spins around to see Robin standing there, at the foot of her bed.

And he's smiling.

"Why so glum, love?"

"I'm dead," she blinks, gesturing to herself across the room. "And I don't know what comes next."

Robin grins as he takes a step forward and takes her hands in his. "I think you do."

She tries to smile, but she still feels uneasy, and looking over at herself, she can't help but wonder…

"Love," Robin murmurs, in a nearly musical voice, drawing her eyes back to him. "You'll see them all again."

Looking back, her her eyes widen. "Will I?"

"Of course."

"So, I'm going–"

Robin laughs as her voice halts, and he draws her closer and presses a kiss to her forehead. "Yes."

"You're sure fire and brimstone aren't in my immediate future?"

"Have I ever led you astray?"

A little grin tugs up at the corner of her mouth. "No."

A slight feeling of relief washes over as she looks back at herself, but then, she catches Henry from the corner of her eye and the feeling quickly fades. "I know it sounds selfish, especially saying this to you, but I'm going to miss them. I… I don't know if I can leave them."

"And they'll miss you."

"Lucy graduates this year. I promised I'd take her shopping for a dress to wear."

Robin nods. "It'll always be something, you know." Her eyes widen as she looks back. "No matter when you decide to leave, there's going to be something you miss."

Her eyes narrow. "Decide?"

"You're… not quite gone yet." She blinks as she looks to herself in the bed. Her heart rate is low and barely there, but it's still there and as her eyes shift to the clock at her bedside, she realizes barely a minute has passed. "Time works… differently here," he explains. "Slower."

"So, I… I can…"

"Decide."

"Oh." Her breath is shallow as she chews at her lip, looking between Robin and their children. "So, I could…"

"Take Lucy dress shopping and see her graduate," he fills in as her voice fades. "You don't have to leave them yet. Not if you're not ready."

"Were you ready?" she asks, turning back to him. "Did you have a choice?"

"Ready?" he repeats, shaking his head. "No. But I did have a choice."

She shifts as her arms fold and her brow furrows. "So you… chose to…"

"Save you," he cuts in. "It was a choice between your life and mine," he tells her. "And before you ask, if I had it all to do over, I'd make the same choice. I'd give up my life to save yours." He grins as his hand rubs up her arm as her jaw trembles. "I don't regret it. I've never regretted it."

"I have," she admits. "It never seemed like a fair trade."

"Well, we are going to have to agree to disagree on that," he says simply. "You deserved more time."

"And you didn't?"

"I got more than most in my situation get." He grins as her lips part, ready to argue, and he laughs softly. "So, what'll it, m'lady? Are you coming with me or are you staying here for a little while longer?"

She draws in a shallow breath and slowly releases it as she turns back to the couch. Her chest tightens as a soft smile draws onto her lips. It's not an easy decision. In fact, it's one of the hardest she's ever had to make. It's painful and perhaps even a little selfish–but after years and years of letting him loom in the background, straddling the fine line between two worlds that he could never truly be a part of, after his sacrifices and loyalty, after spending years missing him, the answer was obvious.

Closing her eyes, she her fingers lace through his, and as she turns back to him, she offers a lopsided little grin. "I… I'm scared."

"You don't need to be."

"But I–"

"I'll be there with you."

She nods. "And you're… you're sure about where I'm…"

"Where we're going," he supplies. "And, yes. I am sure." His smile is wide and bright, and tears glisten in his eyes. "There's so much I want to show you, Regina." She nods, biting down on her lip. "That is, if you're sure."

"I am," she tells him, looking back once more at Henry, Roland and Robyn, and as a goodbye, she offers them a soft little smile that they'll never see and whispers to them that she loves him. Then, slowly releasing her last breath, she looks to Robin. "I… think the timing is finally right for us," she says, her grip tightening on his hand. "This is our time now."

Tugging her to him, he nods and sweeps his free hand up over her cheek and pushes his fingers into her hair. He leans in a little, and she finds that for the first time in longer than she can remember, his lips are warm. His tongue parts her lips and his hand slides to the back of her head, pulling her closer as he kisses her. It's soft and inviting, and as he pulls back, she finds herself smiling at the thought that it isn't their last.

"Are you ready, M'lady?"

"I am," she tells him as her stomach flutters with what feels like excitement–and as he tugs her hand and she takes a step toward him, everything brightens.