He tucks Henry in with tales of sword fights and dragon slaying. Several stories, one after the other at his grandson's behest. All until he finally closes his eyes and drifts off, and David is able to sneak out of the room.
The boy had been in need of a heavy distraction after what happened at the stables. Not that David could blame him. Getting thrown off a stepladder by one's own horse would be harrowing enough. Pair that with having to encounter... whatever Daniel was... and it would be quite understandable if he didn't sleep for weeks.
As he closes the door to the spare bedroom, he finds his thoughts not drifting to Snow as they normally would during moments of solitude, no; instead, they drift toward Regina.
He left her alone at the stables to deal with Daniel, his top priority having been the safety of his grandson. He wonders if he should have gone back for her. And it's that thought that wages an internal war within the prince.
There's the side of him that hates Regina with a startling intensity. Hates her for everything she's done to Snow, to him, to their family. That side commends him for leaving Regina to face her past without a backward glance.
But then, there's this other part of him. It's a part he doesn't know how to describe, except to say it's the part of him that doesn't hate Regina. Quite the opposite, in fact. There's this odd side of him that feels an inexplicable pull toward her.
It's the same side that can so easily invade her personal space, that can grab hold of her arm or hand without so much as a thought. It's the side that can somehow read what's happening behind her eyes, that understands her without hardly knowing her.
It's a side that he thinks Regina might possess herself, toward him. He hasn't missed any of the signs.
The invasion of space comes just as easily to Her Majesty, and she's no stranger to seeking physical contact. He thinks of the way she pleaded with him outside Whale's hospital room - the way she grabbed the lapels of his jacket and laid her lands on his chest when he had her by the arms. He thinks of the desperation in her grip when he pulled his gun at the stables and the way she cried, "David, please!"
And then of course there's the way she talks to him, how her vulnerability shows through when she does. In their old land, he never would have imagined the ruthless queen having any vulnerabilities whatsoever. Yet in their few interactions since Snow and Emma's disappearance, she's let her guard down for him on more than one occasion.
He hasn't forgotten the softness in her voice when he went to get Henry back. Or the way she walked right up to the blade of his sword, holding his gaze as the blade rested on her shoulder.
"You won't be needing your sword."
And then the way she so gingerly pushed the blade away - no defiance, no power trips, no nothing. Just a sad, defeated look in her eyes as she beckoned Henry downstairs. It was the same look she wore in the stables as she begged him not to use his gun.
But why is it he that she shows this side to? It's almost as if she views him as an equal. She doesn't fear him, nor does he fear her. They both are desperate to reunite with their loved ones. Perhaps she sees them as kindred spirits.
Or, perhaps it's something else.
Before he can dwell on that last thought, there's a knock at the door. And though he frowns in confusion, the erratic beat his heart has taken on lets him know exactly who's on the other side as he swings it open.
"Regina."
She's practically vibrating with emotion; it's so intense he can feel it straight to his bones. Her face is red and her eyes puffy. Tears that have long since dried on her face catch in the dim hallway lighting. And her face itself volleys between composure and crumpling altogether.
"I hope you're happy," she growls, and it's through grit teeth.
David frowns. "Excuse me?"
Fire flashes in her eyes and it's one he's seen before - fury. He holds up a hand to stop her just as she steps forward.
"I just got Henry to fall asleep, so if you don't mind…" He gestures toward the hallway and raises his brows expectantly.
The queen bristles; she tugs at the gray blazer she wears and tosses her messy hair. It's not often Regina looks messy and unkempt, but that's precisely how she looks as she takes a few steps (stomps) out into the hallway and he follows her, closing the door behind himself.
"Now… tell me what happened." He keeps his voice even and low, hoping to stem the tide of whatever's about to explode out of her.
What he gets is a disgusted huff and a roll of the eyes. "You sound like the cricket."
He's in no mood for this tonight. "Regina." He grabs her arm for good measure and again her eyes flash - though this one is quite different.
For a split-second she looks scared and wounded. A lost little girl searching for her way home. The skin between her brows wrinkles in much the same way it did at the hospital and the stables. And he realizes that once again, Regina is vulnerable. And as volatile as she can be, David knows he has to proceed with caution.
So he asks again, as softly and compassionately as he can manage, "What happened?"
She shoots him a look, a sharp one, and he expects the next words out of her mouth will be, "What do you think happened, Charming?"
But within seconds, the expression softens and the vulnerability returns. Her voice is gravelly and low, possibly from crying, as she tells him, "He attacked me. Had me by the neck up against the stall door."
The part of him that wants to make sure she's alright loses to the part of him that still despises her, and he bites his tongue. Instead he listens to her recount what happened.
By the time she arrives at the moment she had to use magic, she explodes in what he knows will be a brutal outburst with him as her victim.
Her hands ball into fists first. He can see the blows coming and he braces himself for impact, allowing her the first few. But they don't hit his face. Nowhere above the neck or below the belt, and there's no angry violet smoke. Her fists aren't powerful and fueled by rage; they don't hammer into his chest.
Instead her hits are ineffectual and all for show, the fingers soon uncurling and then she's just slapping at his chest. The situation would be comical, he knows, if not for the emotion behind it. Regina needs an outlet and he's it.
But she can't let herself be consumed by rage. It's her M.O. but he can't allow it. He won't; not with Henry so close.
"Regina… stop," he calls to her, softly, but she won't listen.
She seethes and exclaims that all of this happened because of him - as irrational as the claim is. All of it happened because of Whale, and they both know this. But she's beyond the point of reason.
"Regina…" He tries a different tack. "Please, you have to stop this. Just look at me."
But she just keeps going, blinded now. So David reaches out as she swings again. His hand clamps around her wrist, stopping her in mid-swing. Her eyes meet his and for the first time in a few minutes, he feels like she can see him - actually see him, rather than the stables.
The flash in her eyes this time is one of confusion. But anger is quick to resume its reign. She makes a face and swings again, with her free hand. He catches it as well, and their eyes meet once more. He can feel her trembling, vibrating with everything flowing through her - rage, sorrow… perhaps a bit of leftover magic.
And then the strangest thing happens. It all just… dissipates. He feels the tension leaking from her. He sees her brows relaxing and her eyes softening. He feels the tension in his own shoulders start to release, his grip loosening on her wrists. He slides his thumb to her pulse point and hears her breath catch.
He searches her eyes and watches the vulnerability take hold. Then, her face begins to crumple and he suddenly doesn't know what to do. So David acts on instinct, shoving aside the last vestiges of ambivalence. He pulls her in.
Her forearms brace against his chest and she resists him, shooting her eyes up to his wearing an offended expression. But without her relying on magic, he's stronger and wins. He pulls her against him and holds her there, one hand sliding down thick ebony hair to rest at the nape of her neck.
"It's okay," he tells her simply, knowing her reactions well enough to know that there will be some muffled expletives hitting his shirt any moment now.
Instead, as the three syllables leave him, Regina releases a shuddering sigh and explodes once more, though this explosion is one of profound grief. Her sobs are guttural and she fights against his hold only half-heartedly every other moment, obviously as torn about being comforted by her enemy as David is about consoling his.
But after a minute or two, Regina quits fighting his hold and David quits hating himself, and instead they just hold one another. Her face is buried against his shirt and he winces as her hands clutch the fabric, her nails poking through to his skin. Then she releases him and her arms wrap around his waist, desperate and tight.
It feels strange and wonderful all at once and David has no idea where to categorize that particular feeling. In that moment, she's not a scorned queen and he's not a stand-in prince; they're not on opposing sides of an age-old feud. And in that moment, she's not a mayor or even anyone's mother, nor is he a deputy or a recently-awakened coma patient.
In that moment, they're giving one another something that no one else has bothered to give them - a moment to just be human together. He gives her a moment to be unstable and grief-stricken, and she allows him to be privy to it, to help her through it even.
But then it ends before he can fully process the gravity of what's just occurred. Regina is pulling away and his hand is slipping from her hair. Her head is lowered and she seems focused on his chest.
He looks down to spot the tear stains, and his hand twitches as her fingers gently wipe at the dampened fabric of his shirt. Their eyes meet and he lets out a breath.
The slight wrinkle between her brows remains - he's not certain if she's confused, or what she's feeling, until she nods ever so briefly and says, "Thank you."
Her gratitude is simple, yet heavy in its meaning. David nods, swallowing hard. "You're welcome."
She backs away further still and he notices her hands trembling. Without thought, he catches one within his own. When she looks up at him, a sharply drawn breath conveying her surprise, this time he's startled by the look in her eyes. There's a light in them that he can't explain.
He finds himself saying, "Regina, if you'd like to come inside…"
She shakes her head, and he wonders why he feels a profound loss when she pulls her hand away, declining quietly, "No, thank you. I-I should… I should be going."
David nods, knowing that course of action to be best. "Okay."
He watches her turn to leave, though she spins on the heel of her boot almost as quickly. Her forehead is wrinkled in curiosity, and her voice is low and smooth as she speaks again. "Can I ask you something?"
The sound scrapes his nerve endings and he feels himself shiver, but nods. "Sure."
Regina moves toward him again, slowly, her eyes fixed on his. He can practically see the thoughts forming as she takes her time, asking him then, "Why are you always so… kind… to me?"
It's a valid question, certainly. He has no reason to be, after everything they've been through.
After everything she's put us through, he corrects himself.
Still… there is that look in her eyes. And the strange pull he feels in his chest around her, when she shows her vulnerability. That knee-jerk instinct to protect.
"I don't know, Regina," he finally sighs. "I guess, in spite of everything, I…" He shrugs, meeting her eyes. "I care about you." After a beat and with a slow half-smirk, he adds, "Even though I probably shouldn't."
With a blink, there's emotion in her eyes. Her lips twitch in the barest hint of a smile, and David holds his breath as she comes closer.
Her hand cups his jawline and he closes his eyes as her lips dust across his cheek. She murmurs another, "Thank you," and he hears the dull thud of her boots on the floor as she leaves.
By the time he opens his eyes and lets out his breath, she's gone, and he quietly goes back into the loft. He checks on Henry, thankful that the commotion hadn't roused him.
Then, he retires to bed, staring up at the ceiling as he contemplates whatever just happened. He turns on one side and closes his eyes, still able to feel the ghost of Regina's lips on his cheek.
It's the first night in a long time that he doesn't dream of Snow.
FIN