Hello everyone! I hope you've all had a lovely holiday season! And with the spirit of the new year in mind, I've decided to post a brand new multi-chapter fic! I'm so excited to share this new project with you, as it is another complete AU a bit different than what I've previously written.
I hope you enjoy! And as always, feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think!
All around her, they call her name. Opening the door of her car, she steps into the fray: the incessant click-click-click of paparazzi cameras, the rapid flashes that blind her eyes. She has to push her way through the hoard of people that closes in, drawing closer and closer like a pack of hungry wolves. Protected only by four burley men dressed in suits and wearing sunglasses, she keeps her head down and continues walking. Just a few steps ahead, she will make it through the sliding glass doors of the airport entrance.
"Regina, look this way!" They yell, "Regina! How does it feel to...?"
She's just trying to get home.
But the shouting doesn't stop. It only grows louder and louder as Regina steps through the doors and is suddenly blinded by a strobe light. Blinking her eyes, she finds herself no longer in the airport, but on stage in front of millions of cheering fans. Taking a deep breath, the singer parts her rouged lips. She looks out amongst what she can see of the crowd. Teens and adults alike jump up and down like kernels of popcorn and wave their arms, overwhelmed by the notes that begin to flow effortlessly from her.
Regina's heart is fluttering in her chest. She is moved with ecstasy, addicted to the natural high of the atmosphere of her own concert. Her smile is bright and enthusiastic, but it doesn't quite touch her eyes. The music that she sings is enough to captivate anyone. The love and adoration that they display is enough to warm her heart. But deep within the darkest caverns of her beating organ, Regina knows that there has always been something amiss. Yet, she cannot describe exactly what it is. So, she relishes the applause and loses herself to the mere moment of being onstage, pretending to not have a care in the world. And as she takes that bow, she almost believes it herself.
The strobe light is pointed directly at Regina. It's almost angelic, heavenly, how that single beam of light bathes the singer's leather clad form and accents her sparkling jewelry. Slowly, that pure whiteness of the beam intensifies. It grows brighter and brighter to the point where it is almost unbearable, whilst the cheering of the crowd grows softer and softer. Regina forces her eyes to stay open despite the overpowering light. But it is in moments like these when she would wish more than anything to just close her eyes and make it all disappear.
The light recedes much faster than it came, leaving behind small dots that dance about Regina's vision as she tries to focus on her new surroundings. It's that telltale click! that immediately sends shivers up her spine. How she hates this part of her job, having to be objectified and posed like a doll in front of that unforgiving camera. But that's all part of it: her fame, her fortune.
Regina peers darkly into the camera as it is focused towards her in a way that looks almost menacing. Like the barrel of a gun, the lens is aimed at the brunette as she stares it down in a challenge of sorts, waiting for the shot to be taken. This time, the singer has her body angled sideways, perfectly posed with her arms resting atop her head. Her elaborately coiffed hair hangs down her back, reaching all the way to her waist in large, voluminous waves of chocolate and streaks of red. Rouge lips are parted and eyes are fiercely fixed in that sensual, seductive manner that everyone loves so much.
Out of the corner of her eye, she can spot the two prominent figures in her life and career standing idly by, with firm and appraising expressions. From her mother Cora's sharply chiseled features that undoubtedly scream the older woman's need for her daughter's absolute perfection to her husband's inexpressive eyes that scrutinize her body up and down, they who should play a significant role in offering support and words of encouragement do exactly the opposite.
"You look beautiful, my dear." The man's voice only adds to the level of unease that Regina has already been feeling throughout this entire session thus far. It is relatively soft, but it turns the singer's stomach in a way that is not necessarily pleasant. Leophold's words are lukewarm, and his eyes are lacking the warmth and affection that should be displayed towards his beautiful wife. But no. In this moment, she is not his wife, the woman he seemingly cares for and loves "for all of eternity". Right now, Regina is his client, his superstar—the very jewel of his prized Phanta Records, which makes Leophold not up to playing the part of her husband, but that of her producer.
"It's all really beautiful, Regina," he continues, "But—" There's always a 'but'. "—now I want you to try something more daring, something that'll really capture the fans."
Regina frowns as her husband approaches her, stepping into the space in front of the backdrop. "Leophold," she begins with a sigh and shake of her head, "I really think that we have enough. I don't—"
"Please. Just a few more." The producer continues without regard. His expression is almost threatening, as if he is silently daring her to retaliate in front of this room full of people. He eyes the singer's attire with some sort of level of disdain. There's a critical frown upon his features as he abruptly waves his hand in menial gesture at Regina's trendy motorcycle jacket made of the finest and most expensive leather one could buy. "How about some without the jacket, my dear?" His voice is as thick as molasses, but it's his request that has Regina's breath catching in her throat and her blood running cold.
"What?" The brunette breathes, a shiver running up her spine.
Leophold lowers his chin, staring directly at Regina with darkened eyes. "You heard what I said," he states in an intensified whisper, with the sole intent to covertly assert his dominance in a way that doesn't reach the ears of others in the room. "Take off the jacket."
Regina tries to hide her horrified expression as she fights to remain in control. Gazing past her husband, the singer attempts to give her mother a pleading look, a silent cry for help. But much to her despair, Cora simply lifts her chin and narrows her eyes.
So, Regina doesn't dare argue. She shifts to shrug off the jacket, slowly revealing in full a deep royal purple bra. The singer has her eyes trained on Leophold through the entire endeavor. Almost with a defiant look in her eye, she unceremoniously drops the jacket to the ground by her feet, attempting to hold onto the last bit of poise and dignity she has left. Her lips are pursed, and chin lifted. Eyes remain glued to her husband, even as the assistant scurries in to collect the fallen article of clothing.
"Lovely." Leophold compliments with a nod before coldheartedly continuing on to give his last command. "Now the bra."
And Regina's heart drops to her stomach.
"Leophold, no."
Regina jolts awake, her eyes flying open. As her heart pounds away in her chest, she tries in vain to gain control of herself as the remnants of the dream and all its baggage inevitably seep through the pores of her skin. Her palms are sweaty. Her forehead and neck are damp. There is a wetness beneath her cheek on the pillow. Slowly, Regina raises her head, grimacing when strands of her hair come up sticking to her cheeks. Lifting her hand, she swipes at the sides of her face, pushing her locks back before toppling over onto her back with a loud and harsh exhale.
Control still has not been regained. For no matter how hard Regina tries, she cannot shake the feeling of how her skin prickled and how she felt her bare nipples hardening against that chilling air. The all too familiar sickness that she felt on the day worms its way once more into the pit of Regina's stomach as she lies rigid amidst the sheets, staring with eyes wide into her dimly lit bedroom. Over and over again, she replays the scenes of her dream in her head until she realizes that it's doing nothing but bringing up those painful emotions she has tried so hard to suppress.
But no. She must stop. All of that must remain in the past.
The sound of her alarm clock startles Regina out of her reverie. But it's a solid testament to the fact that she is now in the present, living the life she has now chosen—a life of freedom. Turning her head, the former singer glances at the time. 6:15am. With a sigh and another swipe of her hand down her face, she reaches over herself with some effort to turn off that annoying buzzing noise and start her day.
The shower does well in washing away the night's turmoil. It gives Regina a moment of bliss. She leans back against the shower wall, letting the hot water run down over her face and allowing it to clear her mind, cleanse her soul.
Her reflection has changed since the "glory days." But it's not so much of a difference on the outside as the effect that it has on the inside. After having her hair dyed back to its original color, Regina no longer sports her signature look of scarlet streaks amidst her flowing brunette waves. And never had she known that cutting her locks would produce a crop of unruly ringlets that she would then have to learn how to tame and maintain. Regina stares at herself in the mirror as she scrunches some product into the wild mass of curls. She supposes she looks different, her new hair having given her the appearance of being more laid-back, relaxed, and a bit less sophisticated. It's something that the former singer has come to love very quickly, symbolically equating it to the change of no longer having to really worry about her appearance—no longer having to look picture-perfect all the time with not a single hair out of place. So yes, as much of a perfect disguise as it is on the outside, the simple act of cutting her hair (regardless of how cliché it may be) contributes tremendously towards the changes taking place internally.
Ten minutes later, Regina is dressed, sporting a simple pair of comfortable jeans and black belt adorned with a large silver buckle, along with a black sleeveless t-shirt underneath a navy denim jacket. On her feet, she opts for a pair of brown leather ankle boots. She loves this look, never having had the real chance to show off her own style. Her makeup is light and natural, another welcome change from the layers of foundation, blush, lipstick, and dark smoky eyes that had previously burdened her features.
It's quarter to seven when Regina walks out of her bedroom and makes her way down the hallway towards the next. She enters cautiously, first poking her head through before silently slipping inside.
"Henry," Regina calls softly, her voice just above a whisper as she moves to throw back the curtains and shed some light into her son's dark room.
Somewhere underneath the covers of the bed, there erupts a moan. The lump of sheets shifts but remains steadfast in its position. Regina smiles as she comes to sit at the edge of the bed. She reaches out, her hand tenderly stroking the duvet that is pulled snugly up over her son's form.
"Henry," she tries again in a slightly firmer voice. "It's time to get up. Or you're going to be late for school."
The eight-year-old groans. "I don't wanna go to school."
Regina sighs, shaking her head. "Henry, you have to," she insists as she reaches up and pulls the duvet down to uncover her son's face. A pair of identical brown eyes stare indignantly into hers as he pleads for her to let him stay home just this once. "No honey, I'm sorry. You know how it is. Plus, Mr. Locksley will be missing you."
"No, he won't," Henry argues, "Mr. Locksley doesn't care about me."
"Well now, I highly doubt that," Regina replies, furrowing her brow as the image of a man with gentle blue eyes and silky blonde hair flashes into her mind. There've been only a handful of times she'd seen him. But her brief observations from afar are enough for her to think kindly of him. "Mr. Locksley seems like a very good man, a great teacher." Regina sighs again, glancing down as she rests her hand on top of the covers, above what she assumes to be her son's shin.
"Look, I know the change to this new school and to this new town has still been difficult for you. It's been hard for me too. And I know it feels like it's taking forever for us to adjust, but we'll figure it out together. I promise." Looking up, Regina takes in the surroundings: the red dresser, the rocking chair, and the many boxes of toys all contrasted against blue walls and billowing white curtains. It's all so comfortable, so homey. "We made it here," Regina murmurs, more to herself now, "After everything that happened, after everything we've been through." She can't help but sit and ponder the thought.
But when the former singer glances back towards her son who silently awaits her with a confused expression, she shakes her head and addresses him once more. "So, I need you to try to keep your chin up and stay strong, okay?" Regina pleads softly, "Please? Can you do that for me?"
There's a pregnant pause, a breath of silence, as Regina waits with an expectant look in her eye. It is one that her son has come to know very well. So, it's then after a few seconds when Henry wordlessly throws back the covers and slides himself from bed, prompting his mother to breathe out a sigh of relief and words of encouragement. "That's my boy."
"Daddy, you know you shouldn't be walking around. How many times do I have to tell you that you need to rest?" Regina shakes her head in dismay as Henry Sr. rolls his eyes at his beloved daughter.
"It's just a cold, my dear," the old man huffs, waving a dismissive hand.
Regina shakes her head again. "Yes, but with your immune system, a cold can turn into pneumonia and—really, Daddy?!" The brunette gasps. Her eyes suddenly widen upon glancing at the state of her father's feet on the freezing kitchen floor. "Put some socks on, right now! It's thirty degrees outside."
"Will you relax, Regina? I'm just coming in to quickly grab my tea."
The brunette leans against the counter and crosses her arms, rolling her eyes towards the heavens. "I was going to bring it to you like I do every day, if you would just wait two seconds," she mutters.
"Well maybe today, I'm just the slightest bit more impatient, my darling."
Regina snorts. "I'll say."
She watches as her father shuffles towards the counter to where she had prepared a nice hot cup of Earl Grey, steeped to perfection. After grabbing his mug, the old man then passes behind young Henry's chair to press a quick kiss to the top of the boy's head as he bids, "have a good day." And with that done, he continues his shuffling, past Regina, with a smug look upon his face.
Regina looks to her son who watches his grandfather disappear down the hallway. "Henry, please eat faster," she implores, "We have to get going." And the boy quickly ducks his head back into his plate of eggs and toast.
It's 8:00am on the dot just as Regina's Mercedes pulls up into the parking lot of Storybrooke's local private elementary school. It's very small, having only about three hundred children enrolled in total from kindergarten to eighth grade. But that was all Regina felt her son needed. For instance, the size of the building would reduce the chances of Henry getting lost, especially in those first few months. And with the classes much smaller in quantity than the typical public school, a better education through more intimate one-on-one settings could be ensured. However, the recent troubles that Henry seems to be having is enough for Regina to almost rethink her decision. But, it's not like there really is any other school in this one-horse town. Therefore, she knows she'll have to step in somehow and do something to safeguard her child's happiness.
"Don't forget your lunch," Regina reminds, holding up her son's neon blue Tron lunchbox. She simpers as he takes it from her hands and unceremoniously tucks it beneath his arm. "You be good today," she bids, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before fussing over his hair. "And try to stay out of trouble?" She lifts a brow.
Henry avoids her gaze. "Fine," he mumbles before starting off.
"Hey, hey!" His mother declares as she gently pulls him back by the arm. "No kiss?" She stares expectantly at her son, her brow still arched and with an even wider smirk.
Regina's smile is somewhat infectious as the corners of Henry's mouth lift ever so slightly. He leans up as she bends down and pecks her cheek with a soft kiss. "Thank you," Regina coos, allowing her son to leave this time. He does so without so much as a look in her direction. She watches him with a frown as he trudges through the gates and into the midst of the other children who run wildly about. Is he really that miserable? Regina can't help the sinking feeling in her chest.
"I love you!" She calls on a whim from the other side of the gate. Henry turns around and offers his mother a half-smile whilst giving her a brief wave. Deciding to stay this time and watch the morning's proceedings, Regina digs her bare hands into the pockets of her heavy overcoat and leans against the chain link fence. She's not surprised to see that Henry has picked a quiet spot on the sidelines, his nose now buried into another one of his superhero books.
But it's not too long before the bell is ringing, and all the students grab their backpacks and run to line up single-file in preparation for their mass exodus from the schoolyard. Henry does the same, shutting his book and stuffing it back into his backpack before briskly making his way to where his class stands patiently by the door. It's then that his third-grade teacher is emerging through the glass doors, apparently having been given the job today to escort all the children inside. Regina watches as the man props open the door before turning to address the students. With a wide dimpled smile and bright eyes, he calls them in line by line. As they walk by, he enthusiastically engages with each and every child, always kind and always cheerful. Regina can't help but tilt her head, marveling at how the students respond to him: beaming up at him with bouts of laughter and excitement. It's no doubt that this Mr. Locksley is a favorite. Everything about him seems to breathe this air of warmth and welcome, encased in this natural ability to immediately make everyone fall in love with him. Well, at least, this is according to the many mothers around town.
Aside from that, there is also that superficial aspect of their fascination, of course. The man is good-looking, with a solid but not overly muscular form. His silky blonde hair is just long enough at the front to flop over his forehead in that cute kind of way. He wears some stubble along with a short, clean cut mustache. His blue eyes are gentle and sweet, along with a pair of deeply set dimples that she can view even from this distance. Regina smirks slightly, absolutely certain that all he would need to do is flash those dimples and everyone around him would be at his command. So, he's a charmer, and definitely sports the looks of one. But, it's not enough for Regina to go crazy, right? Not to mention that she doesn't have time to entertain thoughts of ruggedly handsome elementary school teachers.
But it is enough to have the brunette ogle so much that the man in question slowly turns his head and—fuck!—she's caught red-handed. Feeling a warmth slowly creep up the back of her neck and spread over her cheeks, Regina takes her lower lip between her teeth. She wouldn't dare look away, however. That act of cowardice would only add to her appearance of acting like a lovesick schoolgirl, which she is absolutely not. Though, she certainly doesn't want him to get the wrong idea, especially now that he's flashing a small smirk in her direction, making her heart thump against her chest.
"Thought I'd catch you here." A highly accented voice rudely interrupts their moment, if one could even call it that.
Regina sighs, tearing her gaze away from the blue-eyed teacher towards another rather attractive man jogging in her direction. Clothed in a uniform vest and tie, he approaches her with a boyish smile spread wide across his face. Pinned onto his chest, peeking out from behind his heavy leather jacket, Regina can see the sun glinting off a six-pointed star with the word "sheriff" engraved into the metal. He's an innocent soul, one whose looks have attracted the eyes of the town in relatively the same manner that Locksley had, if not even more so. For instance, his curly coffee-colored hair is also long enough to hang over his forehead. But it looks far more disheveled. He sports a thicker beard and mustache. And his build is relatively the same. Though, the sheriff of Storybrooke could be described as a bit more coltish in the way that he carries himself. Some would consider him to be the epitome of a perfect man. However, Regina would regard him as a young twenty-something year old who never really grew out of his teenage awkwardness.
His soft, guileless eyes peer at her as if she's his saving grace. He looks to her with all the admiration one could possibly give. And quite frankly, Regina can't help but feel sorry for him.
"I was wondering if you'd like to grab a cup of coffee," the sheriff is currently propositioning.
Regina blows out a breath. "I don't know, Graham, I'm busy." She looks back towards where Locksley is welcoming the last few students into the school. At the same time, the teacher glances at her again, eyes flitting momentarily between her and the sheriff. With an unreadable expression, and the last of the students filing past, he then makes his way into the school without further delay. Regina sighs again, turning once more to an expectant Graham. "Aren't you on duty right now?" She eyes him up and down suspiciously.
"I start at nine," Graham answers, "So I've time for a cup or two of coffee…maybe a bear claw?" He tilts his head, smirking cutely at the brunette. Like Locksley and his dimples, Graham can just flash those puppy eyes to get whatever he wishes.
"Fine," Regina rolls her eyes, "Just one cup."
Leaving her car in the school parking lot, she decides to brave the chilling breeze and walk the short distance with Graham into the heart of town. They head towards a small bed and breakfast, Granny's, which many of the townsfolk would consider as the central hub of Storybrooke's social life. It's a quaint little area, this small town in Maine. The more Regina has come to know the place, the more she has come to realize just how closely knit the community is. Relying simply on what her father had said, the former singer had some concern that both she and Henry would be regarded as outsiders. However, upon her arrival, every person welcomed her with open arms and warm platters of lasagna and apple pie. It was a nice surprise, one that she had not expected. She had learned later on that it all was due to her father's outward excitement in sharing the news with a few of the citizens. Apparently, word travels quickly around town, which is nothing new to Regina, given her history with the media. But despite everyone's overwhelming kindness and generosity, the former superstar knew she still had to take extra precautions so that nobody would ever discover who she really is, even if it means not only changing her hair, but her name.
"Good morning, Roni! What can I get for you?" Granny cheerfully inquires the moment Regina and Graham enter.
Regina offers the old woman a pleasant smile as she approaches the counter. "Hey, Granny. The usual please. Mochaccino and one of your raspberry scones."
"And I'll have an espresso and a jelly donut," Graham adds stepping up beside her. Regina frowns ever so slightly as she feels the man's hand rest on her lower back. It might just be casual, but one can never be certain. What is clear, however, is that it's a gesture not so subtle as the man probably would have hoped. Because it gets Granny's attention as well. With one brow skeptically raised, the old woman narrows her eyes at the pair from over her small-rimmed glasses.
Shifting uncomfortably, Regina clears her throat and slides herself from Graham's grasp. "I'll go grab us a table," she announces, avoiding his gaze. She starts towards one of the diner's empty booths.
Not long after the brunette takes her seat, Graham joins, setting down the scone on a plate before her. Regina hums in approval before reaching forward with both hands to stuff the sweet treat into her face, enjoying the way it crumbles on her tongue. Like many other newfound freedoms, the ability to eat however she'd like, without worrying about being clean and graceful, is one that she welcomes wholeheartedly.
Across the table, the brunette doesn't realize Graham smirk at her from behind his donut until he speaks. "Hungry?" He teases.
"Mhmm," Regina entertains, lifting a hand to wipe the crumbs off the corner of her mouth. She pushes them past her lips with her finger, letting it linger shortly as she then sucks off the excess raspberry icing. She almost misses the way Graham's eyes slightly darken at her actions. "What?"
The sheriff shakes his head. "Nothing," he replies quickly, ducking his head to take another bite of his pastry. "I was just thinking that maybe you'd like to get dinner sometime."
Regina's lips pop open. "What?" She repeats with a breath. She is briefly saved when Ruby arrives just in time with their cups of coffee. The young server places down their drinks, having evidently heard Graham's proposal, which is clear especially considering her furtive looks between Regina and Graham. It does nothing to ease the tension. But it does allow the former to gather her thoughts. "Graham," Regina begins as Ruby takes her leave, "I thought—"
"I know, I know," Graham interrupts with a shake of his head, looking sheepish, "I just figured we'd be getting tired of Granny's, having the same cups of coffee and pastries. Figured it would be a good change to try someplace nice."
Regina shakes her head. "So you mean 'try someplace nice,' as in an actual date."
Meekly but trying his best to remain nonchalant, the man shrugs. "Well, you don't have to call it that…"
"But that's what you'll see it as."
Graham sighs in defeat. He nods slowly, his wide hopeful eyes making him even cuter, thus even harder to resist. Feeling conflicted, Regina lets out a long breath as she reclines back in her seat, studying the sheriff in silence.
"Look, I know it's taken me a long time to summon up the courage to say it. But I really do like you, Roni. I like your personality, your style, your heart. And I hope you'll give this a chance because I really do want to get to know you better."
At his last statement, Regina can't help but snort. "I don't think that's a good idea," she murmurs.
"Why not?" Graham questions, leaning over the table onto his elbows. He tilts his head at her, letting out a small breathy laugh. "What are you afraid of?"
Regina shrugs, looking to the side for a moment as she crosses her arms over her chest. "Nothing, I just—" She peeks up at Graham, watching him from beneath her lashes as he reads her expression. His grey eyes are wide with so much potential. He does look so beautiful in the natural morning light that filters in through the diner's windows. It seems everything about the sheriff, particularly his looks, can be deemed as irresistible. In truth, Regina should feel lucky to potentially have the chance to snag one of Storybrooke's own heartthrobs and make every woman in the place jealous over a lost opportunity. But is that really what she wants? Lord knows that she has had to endure enough jealousy over the past decade or so to last a lifetime. Shivering internally, Regina thinks back to the way Ruby and Granny looked at her from earlier. Gossip travels fast, and she's not sure if she's ready enough to do anything public, not after the drama she has been through. At least Locksley seems to be somewhat more of a private man. And those who admire him do so in more of a respectful, subtle way, whereas the same have far more to swoon and gossip over Graham. So, at least with Locksley, she can—Regina abruptly halts her thoughts. Since when was Locksley even part of this dilemma? Immediately, the former singer chastises herself. It's not until she hears Graham clear his throat and shift uneasily in his seat that she realizes she still has yet to complete her sentence. "—I just need some time, you know?" Regina sighs, "I guess…time to get used to things."
"I'll be willing to wait," Graham states almost heroically, looking courageous at the thought of taking on the challenge. After all, this doesn't sound like a "no". Bless his tender soul.
Regina bites her lip to tamper down an inevitable smile. Fondly, she shakes her head despite the emotions stirring deep within her chest. She sits up, resting her crossed arms onto the table.
"So, is that a 'yes'?" Graham asks, smiling as well. "It's only dinner. Say, this Friday?"
The brunette slowly nods, breathing out a measured breath from her nose. She lowers her gaze towards her half-eaten scone. Friday. That'll at least give her some time to prepare herself. "Okay," she relents, lifting her head, "We'll say Friday." Instantly, Graham's face lights up and he opens his mouth to respond. "But—" Regina holds up a finger. "—This is just a date. It doesn't guarantee anything more."
Graham nods firmly. "Understood," he replies, looking serious, "No worries."
Feeling somewhat placated, Regina slouches back into her seat.
"You should drink your coffee. It's getting cold," Graham suddenly suggests.
And Regina can't help but laugh at the non-sequitur. "Same with yours."
The sheriff chuckles softly, shaking his head. "Well then, I guess that makes the two of us."
Regina sits on the steps of her porch, slowly watching the smoke unfurl from her lips as she worries a half-smoked cigarette between her right pointer and middle fingers. Leaning forward with her head resting on her free hand, her elbow on her knee, the former singer watches the uneventful happenings of the neighborhood. Mary Margaret and David stroll by with their four-year-old Neal and their Saint Bernard Beethoven, looking very much the epitome of a perfect family. As much as she loves them, Regina can't help but feel envious of their lasting happiness, of the way Mary Margaret and David look at each other, absolutely smitten with one another. She highly doubts the couple had ever had a proper fight. Though, according to their twenty-eight year old daughter Emma (who has become a quick friend of Regina's), there have been a few scuffles here and there. Nevertheless, they're perfect. In every way. Almost too perfect. Regina sighs, lifting the cigarette to her lips and taking another long draw whilst giving Mary Margaret a halfhearted wave. As the couple continues on, she idly wonders what it would be like to have a normal family of her own.
"Regina, you know I don't like it when you do that," a voice behind her gently admonishes.
Regina exhales, more smoke billowing out into the chilly air. "Daddy, you should be in bed."
"I'll be in bed when you stub that thing out," Henry Sr. retorts, waving his hand at the cigarette, "I thought you said you'd quit."
"I am, I just… I really need it today."
Behind Regina, the old man sighs, moving forward to slowly stoop down and sit beside her on the step. The brunette turns her head, raising a brow as she immediately takes in his frail form that's clothed in only his pajamas and bathrobe this cold winter afternoon.
"I worry about you, you know."
Regina furrows her brow. "Why? Because of this?" She holds up her cigarette.
Henry Sr. shakes his head. "No. I mean, yes, that's partly the reason. But no, I do worry about you…in other cases."
"Cases like what?" Regina questions. She shrugs a shoulder. "I'm doing fine, Daddy. Better than fine."
"You don't look it," her father replies boldly, gesturing once more towards her right hand, "Especially when you feel the need to turn to that piece of trash for comfort." Regina rolls her eyes, looking somewhat offended as he shifts towards her on the step to gently pry the cigarette butt from her fingers and stub it out. Silently, the old man then takes her hand in both of his, holding it tightly between them.
"Are you happy, Regina?" Henry Sr. asks, looking deeply into her eyes, "Are you really happy?"
Regina sighs, lowering her gaze towards their connected hands. "You know I am, Daddy." She answers quietly, "The life I was living before, you know that wasn't me."
Her father nods in understanding. "Perhaps not," he agrees. "But there is something missing, isn't there?"
Regina shrugs again. "I don't know," she replies. She shakes her head, shifting her eyes back up to her father's. "I mean, I have you. I have Henry. My life is simpler than it was, but that's all I need. It's far better living a life where I seemed like I wanted for nothing, but in reality, wanted for everything—everything that would come with freedom, the ability to live my life the way that I want."
"And I'm proud of you, my darling," Henry Sr. asserts, "I'm so proud of you for that, for your courage to break away from that superficial life. But now that you've done that, you need to think about what's next for you. And I know you're going to hate me for saying this, but you can't just sit around and take care of me all day, and then Henry when he comes back from school. You need to put yourself out there. Isn't that what cutting your hair, changing your name, moving to this small town was about? To give yourself a chance to reinvent yourself?"
"I know, Daddy, and I am. I'm working on that, you know I am." Regina sighs, telling her father the same thing she'd told Graham. "Just, baby steps. I need some time."
"Yes, my dear, but some time can easily turn into too much time. It's been three years since you've moved from LA. And now, it's a new year. 2019." Her father shakes his head. "I don't want you to end up in the same place you were last time all those years ago, when you thought that you needed time to get used to the spotlight. But before you knew it, too much time had passed." The man visibly shudders at the thought of his little girl becoming trapped in what started out being something so innocent. "I don't want you losing yourself in your attempts at finding yourself. I don't know if I could bear to see you do that the second time."
Feeling tears begin to well up, Regina closes her eyes, trying to prevent any that could escape. "I know, Daddy. I'm sorry."
"Oh, my darling girl," Henry Sr. sighs, reaching out to envelop his daughter into his arms. Regina melts into his embrace as a few tears pool onto his shoulder. "It's okay. It's going to be all right." His hands tenderly stroke up and down her back. "I think you just need someone to be there for you, to guide you. Having your father is nice, but you know my time is limited." Regina squeezes her eyes closed even tighter, her grip on him strengthening as he continues on. "I just want to make sure my little girl is taken care of—is loved."
"I don't know, Daddy," Regina cries softly into his shoulder, "I don't know if I can."
"But I do," her father reassures, "I know you can. You just need to find it in your heart to open up again, no matter what happened in the past." He offers a small sympathetic shrug. "You have to. It's the only way you can move on."
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