A prewritten epilogue

A/N: This was written before the last sneak peek got out and even though I had the chance to edit it I didn't want to since I wanted to explore a little more of Regina's head without actually taking into account this "amazing" idea of them of creating aus just because they don't know what to do next. Is funny because as I wrote the reason of why this (my so to speak) Henry may have had decided to leave Storybrooke I remember thinking; they are going to go there, aren't they? So yup, here we are. I hope, however, that you all like this version of this story.
;)

The book didn't weigh as much as the old one had. That was the first thing Regina thought as she caressed its cover, looking at the creamy white color and the letters that seemed to be mocking at her as they glinted beneath the dim lights of Seattle's setting sun. The pictures inside, however, were as harsh and painful -perhaps more- than the ones she had seen staring back at her back when the man in front of her had been a child asking who his mother was.

As she stared at the last one, the one in where their stories felt as if they had reached their end, she grazed her own face back on it, the timid warmth of the picture cold to her touch. Memories, as they were, were as painful as the realization she had made that the child wasn't a child anymore but a kid that seek answers. The same burning want she now could see on the girl's eyes that stood next to him.

She had his chin; Regina smiled sadly for a second, just imagining how smug Snow would feel if she got to remember and got to know that her great-granddaughter had something of her. The girl, Lucy, had something else though, something Henry hadn't really have; a much more practiced calculating glance, one in where Regina could see another set of eyes looking at her past from a future she had once thought she would never get to see.

Swallowing, she let the heavy scent of the city fill her lungs; the scent of gas and asphalt mixed with just the barest hints of grass. A very distinct smell, something Storybrooke had had as well. Albeit, she conceded listening to the cars that honked in the distance, far enough from where the three of them were but close enough to be always present, Storybrooke's had always be better.

"You remember?"

The voice of the girl was soft and serious, her eyes boring into Regina's as she looked up, glancing first at Henry, finding on herself the same will to care for him that had moved her forward so many years ago. The boy -now a man- looked as grave as the girl, perhaps more since his chest expanded quickly betraying his nervousness, his own doubts. She could see on his well-kept but still beaten clothes, something similar to another person, another woman, the one who had been at Henry's other side during that particular picture. His fingers twitched for a moment as Regina addressed him and the brunette needed to fight against her need to hug him close.

She could remember many things, many different, difficult things. Like the day Henry had decided that he needed to travel in order to become the author. That day had been the last day the both of them had seen each other, the last day in where they had talked and for a moment Regina tilted her head to her left, narrowing her eyes at the sudden clarity that filled them.

Henry remembered as well. The shouts, the questions, the moment Regina had asked him to admit that he was heading out because of what had happened to Emma. The second Henry had admitted that it was indeed that precisely what made him pack and leave. Leave everyone behind.

Henry's nostrils trembled, a word seeming to be about to come out from his lips before Regina closed her eyes, a sudden decision forming on her mind as she nodded, turning back to Lucy who kept staring at her, eyes equally narrowed, a glint of something akin to knowledge glowing on the back of her pupils.

She, Regina thought, looked a little like Emma; the same determination, the same strength, the same way of telling her that she knew when Regina hid something from her. A trait that had been their end after all. After everything.

Drawing a taut smile, the former queen hummed and gave the book back to Lucy, the girl's arms hugging the book just as quickly as Regina turned towards Henry, staring at the ink that stained the rim of his sleeves. The breeze brought yet another honk and the muffled chatter Regina had chosen to tune out.

"Do you have a place to go?" She finally asked, making the final decision in the split of a second, flinching inwardly at Henry's barely hidden sign of surprise on the twitch of the muscles on his face. Nevertheless, she swallowed the pain, the blouse suddenly feeling tight on her chest. Heavy. "A place to stay?"

"We were hoping…" It was Lucy the first one to speak, her voice softer than hers or Henry's who had looked down at her for a moment before turning to look at Regina, his smile never quite reaching his eyes.

It was a strange concept, Regina thought, looking at her son and seeing the baby and the child, the kid and the teen, the young man who had transformed into something, someone more as she tried to fight the villains that seemed to appear around them without a stop. It was harder to see on him, however, a stranger at the same time. A concept she would probably find an answer on Snow.

Or perhaps, she admitted, thinking back on blonde tresses and green eyes, perhaps not.

"You can come with me."

-.-

The flat was the same as the one she had left this morning, with white and wood details here and there; too many books to care and just enough sunlight to bathe the surface of the small living room she owned. Now, however, as she opened the door and let the pair come in she it suddenly felt different, less and she could do nothing but caress the nearest wall as Lucy entered and stared at every detail with the same intent Henry also demonstrated. The eyes of an author. That had been an epithet the boy had been subjected to during the last years in Storybrooke. Something Henry detested but was true. Eyes for every detail, for every inane thing, were now reflected back on Lucy's own stare and Regina smiled softly, albeit sadly, as the child followed the mots of dust that danced on the sunray that illuminated the place in a now seemingly gloomier light than before.

"I never would have written you here."

Henry's voice broke the charm and from the corner of her eyes Regina could see Lucy glaring at her father before turning to look at the books that covered the further wall. Names and titles read and re-read more than once on Regina's new memories.

"I wouldn't have either." She finally answered, arms crossed, fingers gripping tightly on her blouse fabric.

It was, and the two of them knew, an obvious statement. Regina Mills, mayor of Storybrooke, wouldn't have lived on a small flat surrounded by books whose lecture could may or may not be a figment of another's power imagination. She, however, wasn't mayor, not anymore, and with that there came a different paragraph on her own description.

Henry hummed at her answer, grasping the strap of his shoulder bag as his left foot scrapped the floor. The earth tones of his clothes seemed darker now and Regina could distinguish more wrinkles on them, as if now, below her roof, she could see a different Henry, the one who wasn't as stranger nor her little kid but something between those two.

"What…" She started, clearing her throat and turning towards the closed door at her left, the kitchen expecting her just as pristine as she had left it hours before. The cabinets were considerably smaller in size of the kitchen she had once had and she wondered if Henry -who was still standing in the middle of the hall but who was glancing at her- was comparing them just as she was doing. "Do you want something to drink? Lucy?"

The voice of the girl reached her just as she was opening the fridge. Airy, it broke the tension that had fallen upon both Henry and herself.

"Do you have any juice?"

Henry seemed to chuckle sadly behind her and Regina picked up the small cartoon container she had. Just as she picked a clean glass, however, long fingers grasped her wrist and Henry was suddenly by her side, leaving the bag hanging from a chair's back with one hand as the other helped itself with picking the now free glass.

"Let me."

Regina took a step backwards and let him, silently watching as Henry left the room only to return with empty hands and one of them already tugging at the rim of his shirt. A nervous tic she could recognize just as the shy look the man directed at her.

"Listen, we can be gone by tomorrow morning. She… Lucy wants to "wake up" all of you. We don't want to be a bother."

Regina's lump on her throat grew as Henry approached the hanging bag, hands gripping the chair's wood beneath her stare. She was still leaning on the kitchen's counter, hands grasping its edge so strongly she could feel small yet strong pangs of pains on her fingers.

Her voice trembled but kept on being steady as she licked her lips and answered, hair tickling her chin as she lowered her forehead.

"You won't ever be a bother."

Henry nodded awkwardly at her words, nodding mechanically as he stared at his drumming fingers, the tap-tap sound barely noticeable but still there as Regina followed the movements with her eyes as well.

"Who are you going to visit next?" She finally asked, swallowing another question, one she knew that still floated loud enough to be heard even though she tried to not even think of it.

"Was I the first?"

Henry let out a sigh and shook his head, straightening and walking next to her, towering over her and her lack of high-heels.

"She wants to see her other grandmother."

It came off quickly, as if Henry was trying to rip-off a band aid and for that Regina admitted that she would probably need to give him points for the extra effort. The idea, however, of first actually being a grandmother and secondly, of her, were enough to erase that first thought.

"Hen…"

"She wants to."

Henry's pleading eyes were filled with the same warning he had directed at her the day before he had disappeared. A warning and a pleading Regina had respected at the time.

"She may not want to see you both." The words were laced with hurt, a hurt that cut deep and one she had once tried to shield Henry from. The same reasons of why she had done such a thing, however, didn't seem quite valid anymore and so she let them out, vowels and consonants booming through the small room. Magic had been dead inside of her for years but she could feel an old crackling on her fingers as she moved uneasy, walking away from Henry's presence.

Henry sighed once again and run a hand over his hair, ruffling it.

"Mom…"

And, just like that, it was all back. The pain Emma had left on her the day she had appeared in front of her house with a pair of keys she never got to use and an empty promise of being back before Regina would know it. Dulled green had stared back at Regina that day, pleading to not ask nor question why she was leaving her family behind. Regina, however, had never been good with following that kind of directions and so she had taken a step towards Emma, her right hand close enough to graze the woman's shoulder as it laid on her doorjamb, her eyes set on the blonde's lips just like it had been a week before that, back at Aesop, on a drunken tirade.

And, just like that, Emma had talked, a whisper of "please, Regina" escaping those lips and a small smile. One Regina had hated that day.

"You are the savior." She had stumbled, the words as empty as the ones they had kept on spewing, false pretenses of how they did everything for Henry and not for the three of them those last years.

"I'm not needed anymore." Emma's answer had been lame, quick, as she had dug her hands on her jacket's pockets and one foot scrapping the floor. "Everyone is here, with a happy ending and I…"

"You are with Hook."

Regina hadn't intended on saying that but, alas, it had escaped her lips and that time, when Emma had looked back at her she hadn't bothered on hiding anything behind a mask. Shuddering visibly, the younger woman had nodded before glancing at her back in where her yellow bug waited for her. The smell of stale coffee had still clung on it back that day and Regina had remembered that smell, recalling it as Emma glanced at her feet, closed her eyes only to open them again and chuckled despondently.

"I need to go, Regina, we need to go."

That had been the last time Regina had seen the blonde savior. That had been the second time she had kissed her as well. Harshly, quickly, coldly almost just as Emma had turned to left. The blonde, however, just like that night at Aesop, had answered her far hungrier than what Regina would have expected.

At the end, it hadn't mattered. Emma had been gone within a week and Henry had soon followed her.

"She is here, right? In Seattle."

Her words startled them both and for a second Henry eyed her without knowing what to say before nodding slowly.

"Lucy was able to locate you two here. She… I thought it could be better if we tried to talk to you first."

"You are in love with her, mom! You know that!"

Those words had stung, had left her unable to say anything as the boy had packed a few things, far too few. Now the memory of them rendered her speechless as the boy kept on eyeing her, licking his lips as coming closer, one hand hovering over her forearm.

"Mom? She is not with Hook. They aren't living together at least. I haven't found him yet but she is not living with him." His words were soft, his eyes careful and his voice grave and Regina could feel the lump starting to grow on her chest and stomach, taking roots on her lungs as she tried to breathe.

"Tell her I said hello."

Henry's jack locked and there was a glow of stubbornness coming from him. From the corner of her eyes Regina could see Lucy eyeing them both from the kitchen's door, arms around the book and a penetrating glare on her eyes.

"She would want to see you, mom."

"You don't know that."

"And she is in love with you. I'm the author, remember? I see all the stories that could be."

"Please?"

Regina sighed and turned towards Lucy, nodding at the girl before turning back to Henry. Perhaps, she thought, it was her time to say "Hi." To write another chapter on an already too filled book.

Perhaps she was an idiot.

"Okay, I will go with you."