A/N: After the hell both Regina and Hook were put through this season I figured they could use a bit of silly, relaxing, nothing. You know. Before the tormenting starts in again. :D
To the Shore
"A little late to be about isn't it, my dear?"
Regina purses her lips, throwing a sidelong glance at the approaching man. He is something greater out amongst the waves, out here; the way he should be, she thinks, all easy charm and too much sway to his steps. As if he's come home after a long absence. Hook leans on the railing beside her, watching the water slosh lazily against the sides of the boat with an entirely too fond air.
The air smells heavily of salt, almost oppressively so, but he breathes deeply, as if he's been starved for oxygen all this time. If she's honest, perfectly honest, she finds it an intriguing change. His demeanor is entirely shifted, less the fool who'd been humiliating defeated time after time and more the dashing Captain his reputation had led her to imagine.
Then again, who is she to judge.
She crosses her arms in front of her on the railing, glancing out towards the sea, "Sleeping has been...difficult." There's too much of Henry in her dreams, reminding her that he's out there, in danger, and that she is, as ever, powerless to help. If she closes her eyes, he'll be there, face sallow and lifeless and staring at her. Through her. She shakes her head.
Still watching the sea, his voice a little far away, "Your boy is fine, Regina."
"I don't require your platitudes."
"Hope, dear, you have my hope but never my pity," his lips quirk up in a teasing grin, tilting his head ever so slightly towards her, "Not one of the Charmings, after all." He clasps a hand over his heart, turning to face her, "I know how that disappoints you."
Unable to help herself, she snorts. A ridiculous sound coming from the refined woman but not entirely unheard of. After the last few months, she certainly deserves such a minor slip. Regina allows herself a small smirk. In silence, the two watch the waves.
The moon somehow seems closer here, oversized in the sky and reflected perfectly in the smooth water in the distance. Neverland is more ancient, the air humming with magic and primordial energy, leaving the blood in her veins humming. Along the shore, she can make out flickering orange lights, the island's more fey inhabitants playing in the eternal summer air. She wonders if she could reach out and pluck up one of the motes, hold magic incarnate to her chest. It's a pretty thought.
The breeze smells of salt and a far off fire, whipping through her hair. It leaves a strange longing in the pit of her stomach, a sentiment long absent. Like freedom, if she had to put a name to it. The very notion is cliche, sickening, but she cannot deny the pull. Decades of loathing, thinking of nothing but revenge, the Charmings, has left her world sheltered and small. Living in a pretty cage of her own making. She runs her hand absently over the ship's well worn railing, looks out towards the seemingly endless horizon. She is small and exposed here. And she is...oddly free. It sits in the pit of her gut, as real as the call of the gulls, the water splashing against the rocks.
"It's almost peaceful here," he says finally, fondly, some of the tension bleeding out of his figure. The smile is a tad self deprecating and he sighs, "I had forgotten."
"I'm sure you'll find something that wants to kill you, Captain."
He chuckles, hand instinctively moving to cover his ribs. The injury has long since healed but the pain is no doubt fresh in his memories. He rubs at them, "Don't go tempting fate, darling."
"It'll happen sooner than later."
The man purses his lips, eying her darkly. He turns completely resting on his elbows; his eyes are too bright and his spirits too high for her liking, for their situation. Giving her a cursory once over, he chooses to let his gaze rest on her folded hands. For all her vaunted control, for the confidence she wears like a second skin, she finds herself wringing them, worry for her son clawing at her even here, "Most certainly. But that doesn't mean I have to think on it now." Hook taps her lightly on the wrist, "Perhaps you should consider the same. You'll do your boy no good running yourself like this."
"It isn't that easy..."
"I don't know..." the man smirks, glancing towards the horizon again, "You had quite the talent for being single minded before. Why not use that for your own benefit? Think on yourself for a bit, Regina." She glares, pursing her lips as he continues, "If you can credit them nothing more, you must admit the Charmings are rather adept at finding members of their brood. You'll be embracing Henry in no time."
While she loathes the very idea of relying on her once enemies she cannot deny the truth of his statement. Come hell or high water, the Charmings will conquer. They will find her son. The woman lets out a heavy sigh, leaning more heavily on her arms. The lights are still dancing along the shore. Her tongue flicks out to smooth over lips suddenly dry, chapped by their time at sea, conceding his point; after these few months, after her torture, her mothers death, she deserves a few moments to herself. "I wouldn't know where to start."
Hook's smile widens, adopting an almost wicked edge, the rakish quality she'd always imagined playing havoc with his features once more. It suits him better than she'd like to admit. Holding his arms out wide, he stands, offering his wrist, "And what happy luck that you have a dashing rogue at your disposal, my Queen."
"Yes, how lucky for me."
The Charmings are sleeping below. The ocean is oddly calm and the night is particularly lovely. The Captain waggles his fingers, all that charm on display, and she feels her resolve weakening, "Horizon's the limit, Regina. Shouldn't you like to see those shores?"
She holds her head arrogantly high, pursing her lips again. Those lights, the ancient magic humming around them, does leave an insistent longing within her, a pull towards those shores. An urge, for the first time in years, to venture outside her little cage. The ache from Henry's continued absence eats at her but it will do him little good. Her nightmares will do him little good.
The Queen allows the gentle quirk in her lips, extends her own hand. She's still too proud to accept his and perhaps the man understands that. Hook chuckles, pressing his lips to the inside of her wrist.
"Only the shore. The horizon will wait until I have my son."
"Only the shore," he agrees. Somehow a part of her knows it will not be so simple. There's too much out there, too much life, too many adventures. His sea. Regina allows herself a smile as he ushers her into the dinghy, chatting merrily about this world, the dangers, the thrill. Promising her adventures she finds herself unwilling to resist. For a night, she's willing to let herself relax.
She hears him murmur something, the words barely perceivable as the waves lap at their vessel. Straight on till morning, the shore. And the horizon, if he has his way.