Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the intense feelings this show presents me with each week.
Before:
She can hardly bear to watch as Henry walks across the street and into Emma's waiting arms. She can barely breathe as they sit down on a bench and Emma tells him the ugly truth. No, not truth, she reminds herself. Not this time. This time she is innocent. As the tears stream down her cheeks and Henry throws himself into Emma's embrace, she kicks herself. She's become an honest woman far too late, and there is no one left in this town to believe her.
Regina can't look at his face. She doesn't want to see the heartbreak or its equally painful alternative. She can't, she won't know if her son will mourn her or if he will rejoice at his newfound freedom. But then he isn't her son, after all. Not anymore. Not ever again. She desperately tries to convince herself of this as she swipes at the residual tears in her eyes and puts the car into drive.
She doesn't mean to see him in the mirror as she pulls away, but she does. His face scrunches up and he yells something in her direction, but she can't hear it over the pounding of her heart in her chest and the revving of the Mercedes' engine as she speeds quickly out of the center of town.
Back at the mayoral mansion, she makes quick work of packing the essentials away. There's not much that she really wants or needs, and in the end it all fits neatly into her designer suitcase that has never before seen the light of day. She closes all the windows and, with a shaky hand, pulls the door to Henry's room closed. In her study, she pulls a piece of monogramed stationary from her desk and hastily pens the letter that she has been writing in her head all day long.
When she is finished, she dabs at the spots where stray tears have smudged her words and folds the letter neatly into a matching envelope. She drops her house keys into the envelope too and seals it. Taking a last look around the room, her eyes settle on the framed pictures that have been collecting dust on her desk. One is of Regina herself, holding an infant Henry outside under the apple tree the very same day that Gold showed up with him on her doorstep. She takes the photo out of the frame and runs her thumbs over the edges before tucking it into her jacket pocket. There is another photo of Henry next to the now empty frame that catches her eye, this one from his birthday last year, just before everything fell apart. She takes this one too and pulls the door to the study shut solidly behind her.
The envelope she leaves neatly arranged on the kitchen table, propped up against the last bowl of her apples that this house will ever see. She drags the case out to the Mercedes and loads it into the trunk, swallowing hard as she looks up at the house that has been her home for the past twenty-eight years, twenty-eight years spent pretending that and evil queen could ever possibly have a happy ending. But Regina knows better now.
For a second, she falters in her resolve. Perhaps this is a mistake.
No. No, this is her only option. She will never be able to prove her innocence. She will never earn Emma's trust back, not after losing her temper and magically throwing the savior halfway across her front lawn. She has failed miserably and will never have Henry's love. Aside from all that, she won't live to see next week if she stays. It's true that Snow White spared her once, but Regina knows better than to think that her former stepdaughter will be so gracious a second time. If she stays in Storybrooke, she will be executed for her crimes, and for some crazy reason, even though she has lost everything that ever mattered, even though she probably deserves it, Regina Mills just isn't ready to die.
After:
She ends up in Los Angeles, not because she has any great desire to see California, but because it's about as far away as she can get from Maine without leaving the country. It's difficult, for the first few weeks. She cries a lot. Most of the time it's for Henry, who she misses more than magic and horses and Daniel and every other good thing that has ever happened to her. Sometimes, though, it's also for Archie, good, kind Archie who held her hand after Daniel died a second death, who saw her as something more than a monster, and who certainly never deserved such a grim fate.
After three weeks of moping about in a second rate hotel, she pulls herself together. She puts a down payment on a downtown apartment [thank god for offshore bank accounts] and sets about redefining her wardrobe. She avoids black pantsuits like the plague and even buys her first ever pair of shorts [she regrets this particular purchase almost instantaneously].
The apartment is small, with just one bedroom, but what it lacks in space it makes up for in character. Regina is surprised to find that she actually takes pleasure in filling it with furniture, a couch for the tiny living space beyond the kitchen, a little table to put beside her bed. The last things she unpacks from her former life are the two photographs of Henry. She retrieves them from the pocket of the jacket she hasn't worn since stepping off of the plane and places them in a small wooden jewelry box that dates back to her days as Leopold's queen. Lord, that feels like a lifetime ago [in a way, she supposes, it was]. She buries the little box in her dresser underneath layers of socks and white tee shirts and pretends that she will be able to do the same with her heart.
Somehow, she learns to enjoy this new life. Though her fortune is probably enough to live off of by itself, she takes a job with non-profit organization managing finances [it would have been a shame to let all those years of balancing the Storybrooke budget go to waste]. The people in the office are pleasant enough, and a particular group of twenty-somethings takes an interest in mysterious little Regina Mills. They even invite her out for drinks with them on Fridays after work.
It is in the middle of once such gathering that she meets Russell. He's tall and a little scruffy, but she is struck by the way he smiles at her from across the bar, as if he knows her, as if he's always known her. Regina sees a lot of Russell in the months that follow. He worms his way into her life so gradually that she hardly notices, until one night it hits her like a ton of bricks: she's in a relationship.
It's a frightening thought, enough to make her slip out of his embrace at 2am and take an ice cold shower. She doesn't love him exactly, not in the way she had loved Daniel, and yet…there's something about the way he looks at her when he thinks she can't see, the way he holds after they've made love, that makes her feel a little less alone in the world.
As she is toweling off her hair, something very strange happens: the doorbell rings. Regina's brow furrows and she glances at her watch sitting on the vanity. She can't think of a single person who would have any reason to be at her door at 2:30AM on a Saturday. She hears Russell turn the light on in the bedroom. "I'll grab it," he calls sleepily into the bathroom. Regina runs a brush through her damp hair and puts her underwear and bathrobe on. "Russ?" she calls, poking her head out into the bedroom to see that her boyfriend [!] has not returned. "Russell? Babe?"
Nothing could have prepared Regina for what she finds when she walks out into the kitchen. Just inside the front door stands a bewildered Russell and beside him a tired twelve-year-old boy.
"See? I knew I had the right apartment," the boy says to Russell, kicking off his shoes and taking a seat at the kitchen island. He gives Regina a tired smile. "It's good to see you again."
She can't breathe. This is simultaneously her greatest dream and her worst nightmare all in one. She looks helplessly at Russell first, and then to the boy at the counter, who is helping himself to an apple [old habits die hard] from the fruit bowl. "I…I need a minute," she finally says, turning on her heels and retreating back into the bedroom.
Sitting down on the bed, she holds her head in her hands. This doesn't make any sense. He shouldn't be here; he's supposed to be 3,000 miles away living his happily ever after.
Russell comes in and closes the door softly.
"Regina?" She can't look at him. "Regina, what's going on? Who is this kid?" She tries to explain, but the words catch in her throat. He comes to sit beside her on the bed. "He wouldn't tell me anything, just that he's here to see you…Do you know him?"
She swallows hard and turns to face him, eyes shining with tears. "He's my son."
