Sinners Play as Saints

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Despite how much he tried, Robin couldn't control his breathing. The sound of the heart monitor echoed in his ears. Even after the rush of hospital workers left, his unconscious wife quickly hooked up to a machine, the panic remained inside of him. Her skin was as lackluster as the white sheets beneath her.

The nurses explained that she was extremely malnourished, and was around ten pounds underweight. He struggled to get words out, to formulate responses, mostly because he thought things were getting better. With everything going on, he felt especially foolish for believing such a thing- she was tearing herself down, slowly and painfully.

The silence was absolutely killing him. He couldn't avert his eyes from his wife, and each passing second only caused his worry to increase. The only way to divert his anxious thoughts was to put the blame on someone else- Zelena. She was down the hallway, laying in the same comatose position as Regina was. He hated that one person had the ability to destroy their lives so drastically, and he hated that she made him give her a second thought.

Noticing her begin to stir, Robin quickly came to her side, catching her glance as her eyes fluttered open. He tried to prepare himself for the tough conversation they were about to have as she came to, her heartbeat rushing when she realized the situation she was in.

"Hey, hey," he soothed, gently taking her hand in his, "you're okay."

She looked down and noticed the IV in her already bruised arm. "What happened?" She asked, her voice tense and rushed.

"You passed out."

"I don't need to be here- she's still out there... I can't be here."

Attempting to sit up, she was met with a firm but gentle resistance from her husband.

"You can't go anywhere just yet- you need to rest. Zelena still isn't awake last I checked. We have time."

The softness of his tone was no match for the nervous cocktail stirring around inside of her. Her look of confusion quickly turned cold.

"You're really going to leave me like this? In Florida, with the psychopath who ruined our lives just down the hall?"

Robin sighed heavily. "You're sick, Regina, and you need to get better."

"I'm fine," she persisted, her jaw clenched, "we have work to do and I can't be stuck here."

"The doctor says it isn't safe for you to even fly back home. You need at least a few hours of rest and IV treatment so you can get your levels up."

Her anger melted into hot tears as she realized that he was right. Her sickness terrified her, especially since she thought it was something she had under control.

"Trust me, I wish you didn't have to be here- I hate seeing you like this," he told her, wiping her tears away through blurry eyes of his own. "We'll get through this, I promise."

She held onto him and wept, her body frail and shaking with each breath intake. Robin hardly noticed one of the nurses enter the room, not until the nurse began setting up more infusions in the machine beside her. After what felt like an eternity, whatever had been administered to her began to take effect- her grip on her husband lessened and her tears stoped at a standstill on her cheeks. With the last of her strength, Regina begged him to stay with her, over and over again until sleep overtook her.

Robin then spoke with the nurse about what their next few steps would be, though it seemed what whatever the man said went right over his head. Eventually he released his grip from her hand and forced his glance away from her, finding the sadness too much to bear.

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