Regina is in the kitchen, pounding a pie crust into submission. Emma has been missing for three weeks now, and they're no closer to finding her than they were the night she vanished.
Well, missing isn't the right word. Regina has a pretty good idea that the darkness took Emma to the Dark One's vault in the Enchanted Forest, but she has no idea how to go about getting her back. No portals, no magic beans, no way to be the hero.
Henry has been a zombie the past few weeks, walking around in a daze during the day. Regina knows that it's because he's not sleeping at night, wracked with guilt about snapping that pen. He had been so brave and strong, deciding that he didn't want the power to change fate, right up until the moment Regina had told him that Emma was gone. Regina would have given anything to have protected Henry from the truth, but she knew her son would never forgive her for that. So, she'd been honest, and she'd done everything in her power to convince him in the weeks since that it wasn't his fault, that there was nothing he could have done, that using the pen to rewrite the story would be a mistake. She knows he doesn't believe her, but she has to keep saying it. She is his mother, after all.
Snow and Charming are holding it together only slightly better, clinging to hope that they'll find Emma, that they always find each other. Privately, Regina thinks that hope is useless without action, but she doesn't say it out loud. Her peace with the Charmings is still new and hard won, and in truth, she takes a little bit of comfort herself in Snow's relentless optimism.
Optimism isn't getting them anywhere, though, and Regina is running out of ideas. She's also running out of patience, snapping at everyone and generally being a miserable excuse for a person. So she's trying to avoid burning the few remaining bridges she's left standing in the last few weeks by taking out her anger on an apple pie.
She has the radio on, trying to use music to block out the thoughts swirling in her head. Some Dave Matthews song from the 90s is playing, and Regina is humming along absently. There are many things that Regina loves about this world, but high on the list is the music. She pushes her rolling pin through the crust in time with the music, letting the rote act of baking take over her body.
Footsteps echo down the hallway behind her. "What on earth is that?" Robin says, and she doesn't need to turn around to know that his lip is curled in disgust. Though Regina fell in love with the music of this world early on, Robin clearly has not.
"It's music." She smiles at him over her shoulder. "I used to sing this to Henry when he was a baby and wouldn't go to sleep."
He comes up behind her and runs his hands along her hips, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Baking, I see," he says.
"I needed to do something to distract myself."
He hums in her ear. "I can distract you, you know."
She laughs and leans into him. Robin has spent the last three weeks glued to her side, holding her hand and promising her that she did all she could. She's grateful for the support, but at the same time, she hates that he treats her like a fragile doll that he's afraid to shatter. Moments like this, when he's unabashedly flirtatious, are few and far between.
"You are distracting me," she says, "and possibly ruining my pie crust." He shifts behind her and kisses her neck, and his arms move around to encircle her waist.
"We can't have that, now can we?" he asks. Before she can answer, he reaches out and plucks the rolling pin from her hands. She moves to grab it, but his hand goes to her wrist. He takes a step back and pulls her to him, one hand still holding her wrist and the other creeping around her waist. He starts to sway to the music.
"What are you doing?" she asks, suddenly finding herself a little short of breath.
"Dancing, milady. I believe they still dance in this world."
They move together slowly, fluidly, Robin humming along in her ear. It doesn't take him long to pick up the melody. Of course, he has no clue what the words are, so he starts making up nonsense lyrics. She's not really listening, not at first – she's just enjoying feeling the solid warmth of his body pressed to hers and the reassuring hand strong on her back. Then she realizes that he's just sung something that sounds suspiciously like "I hope you're not going to burn the pie."
She pulls her head back and looks at him. His face is serious as he croons, "If I don't have a slice, I think I shall die," and she begins to laugh. He smiles at her, his eyes crinkling, and he spins her out suddenly. He pulls her back, singing nonsense into her ear and swaying more and more dramatically to the music. She lets her body sag into his arms as he sings. She laughs harder at how ridiculous he's being, and at how he never breaks a stride, even though she's laughing so hard she's on the verge of tears.
She's never had this, she realizes. Never had someone who would make an utter fool of himself to see her smile. Daniel had been the heat and passion and tenderness of first love, and Leopold had been something to endure. Graham…well, Graham was best not thought of. Even the beginning of her relationship with Robin had been clouded by fear and heartbreak, longing for Henry to remember her mixed with the shadow of her sister hanging over them. And now...now Zelena is locked away, and she is doing her best to forget the past and live in the present, and here is this man who she adores dancing with her in her kitchen, singing very seriously about chopping apples into small bits. Simply because he wants to hear her laugh.
For the moment, she lets the rest of the world slide away. For the moment, this is enough.