A crack of thunder overhead startled Regina, causing her to jump and drop the bag of oranges she had been holding, and she watched as they spilled and rolled across the white marble kitchen counter. Abrupt noises had always sent a shock of fear through her spine, causing the hairs on her neck to stand on end and vivid memories of menacing magic to flash before her eyes, as she supposed it always would. Yet another trauma from her past she feared she would never shake off.
Quickly pulling herself together with a shake of her head, she gathered the straying fruit and continued putting away the bags upon bags of groceries she had brought home. Living with three boys instead of one was proving to be more expensive than she had imagined, perhaps because all of the food she bought was constantly disappearing. If she wasn't out with the unCharmings stopping the next crisis from destroying the town, she was constantly refilling the fridge for her two growing boys and her one grown man who was still learning how to cook – slowly, very slowly.
She hummed to herself and danced her way around the kitchen, expertly placing everything in its rightful spot. Very rarely did she feel this content, as life was never this simple for anyone in Storybrooke, let alone the mayor. She revelled in her relaxation despite the storm that was raging above her warm home. Life had fallen into a routine after she, Robin, and Henry had returned from the Underworld with the rest of their family, and she became increasingly grateful for the familiarity that every day brought.
Both adults woke early with the sun, sleep coming sparingly the first few days after their return, and they would lay intertwined in bed together until they heard the cries of their daughter to lure them from the warmth of each other's embrace. The terrors that they had lived through for days on end would often haunt their dreams, and each would take a turn consoling the other when the nightmares became too much.
Once they were out of bed, Robin would practice making breakfast while Regina helped the boys get ready for school - something they had been neglecting with Henry for longer than she cared to admit – all while cooing to the baby girl in her arms. They would see both boys off to their bus, and Regina would leave Robin home with the baby while she worked through the constantly growing pile of paperwork on her office desk.
Usually, after a seemingly never ending day, she would return home to remove her pinching high heels and form fitting pant suit, and sink into the couch next to Robin. But of course, her family would not be happy to come home to an empty fridge, so Regina had trudged through the market, her thoughts revolving around what to make for dinner, how much she wanted to go home, and how badly she wanted these shoes off. Then again, if her biggest problem was her uncomfortable feet, she was having a very good day.
As she emptied the last of the bags on the counter and started preparing lunch boxes for the next day, Regina lost herself in pleasant thoughts of her family. Roland's lunch always took the longest, as he was becoming quite the picky eater now that he wasn't stuck eating whatever the Merry Men had found that day. She smiled to herself, thinking of her little boy, as she pulled the stems from his grapes and sliced his sandwich in the shape of a star just the way he liked it. He usually played quietly in his room until Henry came home, today being no exception, and Regina enjoyed some time to herself, in between tiny squawks from Ella's crib, while she waited for her other two boys. Robin had spent the afternoon with Henry teaching him how to use a bow- heaven help them - and she assumed they would be home soon. The storm had come out of nowhere, and she suspected that even Robin Hood wouldn't stay out in a thunderstorm for long just to shoot some trees with sticks.
A crack of thunder broke through her tranquility, followed by a muffled yell coming from upstairs, and the sound of something shattering.
"Roland?!" She yells up the stairs. When no response came she screamed again, and waited only half of a second before she evaporated herself in a purple cloud, appearing in her boys' bedroom. At first she couldn't see him, only a shattered lamp that once sat on the small desk between Henry and Roland's beds on the floor. She could hear him though, a strangled whimpering coming from under the desk, making her assume he was covering his face.
Panic took over her, thinking he had cut himself, and she used her magic to remove the shards of glass as she got on her hands and knees in front of him. She could hear him crying clearer now, and could see evidence of tears on his round cheeks. "Roland! Are you okay? Are you hurt?"
Again she got no response, only the sound of sniffling and hiccupping. Another loud crack of thunder shook the house, and Roland yelped and shrunk his small form down more, away from the noise.
Oh.
She imagined that storms were much more menacing when you live in a tent in the woods, surrounded by trees to potentially be hit by lightning.
"Roland baby, did you cut yourself?" When he shook his head slightly, she let out a sigh of relief and waved a hand at him, "Come here sweetie." He crawled out of his hiding place, big tears running down his face.
"It's okay, you're safe. It's just a storm." He hugged her tight, pushing his face into her neck as he cried. For a brief moment her heart fluttered at his contact, a small amount of pride that she could comfort him slowly filled her. Quickly guilt took over her moment of satisfaction and she wracked her brain for ways to help her youngest son.
"How would you like to build ourselves a fortress from the thunder?" She asked, sparking his attention.
"A fortress..?" he mumbled, lifting his head from her shoulder, leaving behind traces of tears on her blouse.
"Mmhmm," she hummed, standing him up in front of her, his eyes level with hers. His lip still hung out, and big tears rolled down his face. She wiped them away lovingly, and placed two fingers under his chin, the way she always had with Henry.
She knew he loved her magic, and offered him the choice to walk or "poof", as he liked to call it, downstairs. When he answered how she assumed she stood up herself, took his hand and said, "would you like to do the honours?"
He flourished his little hand the way he'd seen her do a hundred times, and she couldn't hold back her grin as she closed her eyes to focus her magic. The bedroom filled with purple smoke, and Roland laughed loudly as they appeared in the kitchen, tugging Regina's hand as he bounced with glee, his fears narrowly forgotten. She sat him on a stool, still sniffling though his tears had stopped, and she busied herself in the kitchen.
"First things first, we need a warm drink and a warm blanket." She placed the kettle on the stove, and walked over to the low-burning fireplace in the living room to lay a blanket in front of it. He watched with wide eyes as she hurried past him, gathering pillows and placing them on the blanket. Once an acceptable mountain had been built, she made her way back to the kitchen to fill two mugs with powdered chocolate, cinnamon, and a dash of milk while the kettle whistled in front of her.
She picked up both mugs, now full of steaming hot coco, and, looking over at Roland and then down at her full hands, she realized she couldn't carry everything. She used her magic to move the mugs to the floor by the fire, winning an "ooooh" from Roland as she gently picked him up, placed him on her hip, and rubbed her nose into his cheek, making him giggle. She carried him to the pillows and sat down in front of them to lean back against the soft pile behind her. Cradling him on her lap, she heard Roland sighed with approval, wiggling to get comfortable. She silently cursed herself for not changing her clothes once she was home; Her pantsuits were not made for sitting on the floor.
A loud crack of thunder above them had Roland jump in her arms, and she held him tighter, cooing in his ear that he was safe. He clung to her shirt and buried his face into her neck again.
"Can you sing to me?" He whimpered into her skin. She could feel his warm tears wetting her neck, and her heart ached for him.
"Sing?"
"Papa always sings "Down in the Forest" to me when there's thunder."
Of course he does, she thought, always in the forest with that man.
Her heart sank as she replied, "I'm afraid I don't know that one sweetheart." Her parents had rarely, if ever, comforted her as she had grown up, let alone sang to her, and the songs she had sung to Henry were limited to what she had heard on TV.
His eyes brimmed with tears again at his disappointment, and she quickly recovered. "But, if you would like, I know a song that always cheered Henry up when he was your age."
"Really?" His eyes lit up with the possibility of being like his big brother.
He shifted and looked up at her expectantly, his eyes so big and watery. Gazing into his dark eyes, so unlike his fathers, anxiety welled up inside her. What if she couldn't help Roland as much as she thought she could? He waited patiently, eyes locked on her face as he unconsciously played with her fingers that were resting on his lap. She placed her hand on his cheek, gently wiping at his damp skin as she started slowly rocking with him.
As she started to sing his eyes lit up, a warm smile spreading across his face, revealing the dimples hidden deep in his cheeks. He watched her as her song filled the room, blocking out the gloom of the storm outside. His focus on her and the happiness clear on his face soothed any worries she had. She couldn't get a single note out without smiling down at the precious little boy curled up in her lap.
"Baby mine, don't you cry,
Baby mine, dry your eyes.
Rest your head close to my heart,
Never to part, baby of mine."
"Gina, I'm not a baby!" He suddenly protested, scrunching up his nose at the word.
She laughed as she ruffled his curls, "it's just a song, darling."
"Little one, when you play,
Pay no heed what they say…"
Her thoughts drifted to the youngest Locksley, sleeping soundly in her room upstairs despite the storm. The sweet baby girl would have so much more to fear than her older brother. Roland would fear thunder and monsters, but his baby sister would fear the woman who gave her life, and the harsh words already too present in her life from those who didn't understand her family. Her fears would be too real, and Regina couldn't protect her from them. She could never sing away the pain that Zelena had cursed her child to endure.
Let your eyes sparkle and shine,
Never a tear, baby of mine."
While lost in thought Roland hiccupped in her lap, bringing her back to reality.
"From your head," she continued, bouncing her finger off of his nose, "down to your toes," and tickled his foot, making him laugh and lightly kick her hand away. "You're not much, goodness knows. But you're so precious to me…."
Roland curled into her, tucking his head under her chin, causing her to pause her singing. She pulled him closer, placing one hand on top of his head, the other wrapping him into her.
"Sweet as can be…." Tears flowed absently down her cheeks and her voice shook on the last line, "Baby of mine…."
She scrunched up her face, pressed her nose into his hair, and breathed in the sweet smell of forest still fresh on his skin. She didn't know how long they sat like this, her arms tight around him as she listened to his even breathing. Eventually she felt Roland shift under her embrace and heard a soft, "can you sing it again?"
Breathing out a laugh she started over, holding him close to her chest as she rocked their bodies to her song.
She heard the door push open and the heavy foot fall of her other two men, chatting quietly as they removed their shoes and jackets. They must have heard her singing as they entered, for their voices came out low, under their breath to one another, trying to not disturbing the moment between her and Roland.
"You're a good singer," Roland said once she finished.
She let out a throaty laugh, "Do I compete with papa?"
"I think you're better…" he breathed through yawns, "Papa only tries to sing."
Laughing again, she continued to rock Roland, feeling his body relax and his breathing slow as he dozed in her arms.
"I resent that," came a low voice above her head, "I like to think I can carry a tune quite well."
She chuckled softly, her eyes lifting to meet the blue ones above her, "I've heard you in the shower, and Roland is definitely right."