Author's note: So, after some consideration, I decided to write something in the post-3B world. Like a lot of people, the finale left a little whole in my heart for Regina, and that just won't do. She just can't catch a break, can she? I don't know if this is going to be a one-shot or multiple chapter story, but this is what I have so far. I don't know what ship this is leaning towards other than a heaping ton of Mill's family fluff, but it isn't a hidden fact that I have a soft spot for Swan Queen.
Any who, this isn't beta'd so all mistakes are my own, and I'd love to get whatever feedback you have to offer! I have a very amateur tumblr where I mostly reblog things that make me laugh, but I'll definitely respond to any questions/comments that you send my way! It is civilorange on tumblr.
Summary: She shouldn't be surprised that everything is falling apart between her fingers, it's the only common thread through her life. But this time, she has a choice, to turn the other cheek and be a better person. And maybe, this time, it'll turn out for the better.
Seeing him embrace her like a solidified lifeline didn't hurt like she expected it to, there was no crack and burn inside that rendered her knees weak and her breath shallow. There was just a pitter patter of a resilient heart still beating—always beating. She could feel the guilt radiate off the savior like a palpable thing, but Regina didn't want any of it—the blonde's hero complex was an ache in the mayor's teeth and she knew she couldn't quiet keep the betrayal out of her eyes when she turned to her.
"You're just like your mother." No, something about this was both better and worse, it was a saving grace and a damnation because it was so ridiculously understandable and so confoundedly stupid. Which mean it was right up Emma Swan's alley, that crossroads of stupid and good, that place so few people seemed be able to frequent without dying horribly noble deaths at young ages. Clearing her throat, she turned dark eyes back toward the reunited family just in time to catch his gaze—his bright blue eyes and unsure lips. Somewhere between a frown and a smile.
She wanted to hate him, to feel betrayal and anger, but she just can't, and that had to be a sign of growth. She offered him something of a smile, it's halfhearted and probably sad, but beneath that it's genuine and she sees the responding glimmer in his bright eyes. She knows he wants to talk about their secrets, about what their story will be from this moment forward, who they will be to each other, but she can't—she won't. He would have been her second chance at love, he would wander through the red in her heart and mend all those black spots—but he no longer needed a second chance.
His Marian was back. The woman he would walk through hell for had simply stepped through time for him, in a way her own Daniel never could. She couldn't begrudge him that.
Goodbye. She mouthed quietly, before turning to walk out of the diner, into the suddenly brisk night—bunching the collar of her coat around her neck. The bang of the door wasn't far behind her, and she was just about to spin and inform whoever was following her that she didn't need pity, an escort, or whatever else they thought she needed—before she meet the steady gaze of her son.
"Mom?" He said it so simply, like he used to when he'd find her standing in the kitchen late at night—not worried, but there, simply there. He was so tall now, the top of his head was well past her chin and she couldn't stop the watery smile that fell across her lips as she beckoned him toward her. His reason was simple, "I'll walk you home."
They fell together so easily, her arm around his slightly broader shoulders, his arm around her waist as she tucked her nose into his mop of dark hair. He should have gotten a haircut weeks ago, but obviously Emma didn't hold that as much of a priority—or maybe that was just the style in the rest of the world. Big city and all that. Her son, her little prince, he'd been places she'd never even dream of seeing, he'd been part of a world that would never really include her.
"How're you doing in math?" Because he'd been atrocious at it before he'd been too concerned about curses and fairytales, when he wasn't losing relatives to the Enchanted Forest and being kidnapped himself to Neverland.
"Crap." He amends quickly with a grin that's too-lopsided to have been gotten from her, "Crud. Ma used to let Walsh help me, but then—." He trailed off.
"Of course a simian is better at algebra than your birth mother." It hurts that she wasn't there to help him, to get into the stupid little fights they used to about multiplication and division that she couldn't show him the little tricks she learned for the soul purpose of showing him. Mathematics hadn't been lauded in the Enchanted Forest.
"Mom?" Reproachful, like he wasn't sure it was his place to ask her something, and she knew he'd ask about the scene in the diner.
"I'm fine." Unconvincing, but she was smiling for her son, because even though she wasn't it wouldn't be up to him to fix this. He was just a boy, it wasn't his responsibility to coddle his mother. She'd done such a horrible job protecting him from the faults in the world, but she wouldn't let this pass. She wouldn't let him feel responsible for her crumbling world.
"It would be okay if you weren't." His dark eyes are honest, his expression earnest and she wondered how she had raised such a wonderful boy. What inside her had prompted such goodness? She couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up, startled enough that a single tear slipped from her eye and rolled down her cheek,
"I suppose, sweetheart." The concession was quiet and she pulled him a little closer, like the familiar feeling of having him tucked against her could chase away the unhappiness of the world. "But for now I have to be." Tomorrow, she could fall apart, she could break and shatter, but for right now she had to be fine. She had to be alright enough that revenge and black desire didn't crawl up her throat like a destructive bed fellow. She had to convince her worse habits that they weren't needed, and that she was just good enough of a person to crumble without taking the world with her.
"Okay." The tuck in his brow was all her, eyebrows pinched together with an incredulous tilt of his chin, but he seemed willing to accept her explanation without the curiosity that they both knew was barely reined in. "But…" He trailed off, looking up at her with such unwarranted understanding, like he would give anything for her to feel alright. "But when you aren't. I'll be here, okay?"
She loves him so much. It shouldn't come as any type of surprise, but the swelling warmth spilling through her chest it enough to chase away her wayward demons, the monsters crawling through her magic thrummed veins and black tainted her. Burying her nose in the mess of his hair, she deposited a kiss to his temple. It took an incredible boy to love an Evil Queen—former or not.
She hadn't realized they had reached the front gate of the mansion, the windows dark and silent, and despite the sadness lodged somewhere at the back of her throat, she couldn't stop the thrill of seeing the proof of his existence within the walls of their home. His shoes forgotten on the foray floor, the dirty dishes left for her to clean in the sink, the controlled to his video game tossed on the family room couch. There were the pieces that had been missing, the holes that needed fulfillment even though she refused to speak about it.
"I know." Because she no longer worried about whether or not he loves her, nor does she worry about being unable to show him her own love. After all, hadn't she broken the curse with true love's kiss? That had to mean something. Tomorrow, she'd think about lost soul mates and the consequences of chivalrous stupidity. Tonight, she'd spent time with the son she'd missed for longer than the year he'd be gone. They'd be the family that had existed before adoption and curses ruined the easy routine of being together.
"For now," she let her tone become serious, low and grave as she reached out a hand to open the gate and usher Henry up to the unlocked door. He looked suddenly pensive from the change in her voice, "I'm challenging you, Henry Mills, to a tournament of Mario Kart. Winner picks tonight's movies." She'd never won before, but she wouldn't complain about having to watch Avengers or Iron Man for the fifteenth time.
"Oh, you're going down, mom." The worried expression had changed quickly to a wide grin, aptly crooked like his birth mother's, as he pushed the front door open with familiarity and flicked on the light. "Loser has to let the winner eat all the ice cream they want." She found she was smiling too, not terribly wide, but it was genuine—happy, even. Yes, she'd deal with lost soul mates tomorrow. Tonight, she had to put an arrogant thirteen year old in his place.
And keep the fact that the only ice cream in the house was pistachio—which he hated—and that she'd be eating it regardless of who won.