A Slice of Life
Summary: After the celebratory dinner for Snow and Emma's return, Henry comes to visit Regina.
She still has so many of Henry's things.
As she sits in his room and lets the memories wash over her, Regina doesn't feel as devastated as she did when the curse broke. She just feels a quiet, heavy kind of sadness, knowing things will never be the same.
Rumple … no, Gold's words ring in her ears. She will become a guest in her son's life, a polite stranger, just like she was to Leopold all those years ago. It will be all tight smiles and forced civility for Henry's sake, and she will see him whenever the oh-so-gallant 'heroes' of this story deem it is acceptable.
She'd almost rather Henry hated her than face that for the rest of her life.
Almost.
Regina is startled out of her gloomy thoughts by the sound of the doorbell. Who could that possibly be? She knows virtually everyone in town is at Granny's celebration Snow and Emma's return….
Warily, she makes her way downstairs.
When she opens the door, her son is standing there, holding a pie.
Regina's face lights up with a disbelieving smile. "Henry!"
He smiles back at her, hesitantly. "I thought maybe we could have dessert together. My mom says it's okay."
My mom. She has to work hard to keep her smile in place, as those simple two words make something black and bitter twist inside her.
Regina looks up and sees Emma Swan standing by her car. Her expression is guarded, and she gives Regina a tight nod.
"I'll be back in a little while to pick him up," she calls out.
It takes all of Regina's strength to swallow her pride and call back, "Alright. Thank you," before she takes Henry inside.
He walks in, her son, and sets the pie down on the table. Regina busies herself with getting a knife, forks, plates, napkins.
"What … what would like to drink, sweetheart? Milk?"
"Uh, yeah."
She goes to the refrigerator to get it. "What kind of pie is it?" She asks him.
"Definitely not apple."
Regina turns sharply at that, but Henry's smiling at her, looking almost amused, and after a moment, she smiles hesitantly back.
"It's pecan, actually," he says.
"Sounds good."
Regina gets some glasses, pours out the milk, and cuts a piece for each of them. For a moment, they eat in companionable silence.
"Can I ask you something?" Henry says, after a few bites.
Regina sets down her fork. "Of course, dear."
"Did it hurt?"
Regina blinks. "Did what hurt?"
"What you did at the well."
"Oh, that." She pauses. "Well, no. I mean, not really. It was more draining than anything. Magic takes a lot of mental and physical energy, you know. That's one of the first things I learned when I started using it."
"You mean when your mother taught you."
She gives him a blank look. "My mother?"
"She's the one you learned it from, right?" She supposes she shouldn't be surprised. It's a natural assumption for him to make.
"Oh no, Henry. My mother never taught me magic. She just used it on me, for …" Punishment. Control. Regina shudders as the memories of her mother's magical abuse threaten to swim to the surface. She must be careful not to say anymore. She's done enough to Henry without burdening him with the memory of her own pain.
But her son's eyes widen slightly as he takes in her reaction. He's an intelligent, perceptive child, he always has been, and in that moment, as he gauges her demeanor, she knows he probably discerns more than she'd like him to.
"So uh … who taught you then?" Henry asks, sensing the need for a change in subject.
Regina looks down. "Someone else," she says softly.
"Mr. Gold? Rumplestiltskin?"
Regina looks back up at him. My son is very smart, she thinks, with a curious combination of trepidation and pride. Maybe a little too smart.
"Yes," Regina admits softly.
"Why?"
Because he needed a means to an end, and I was the means. "You'd have to ask him." She has to work hard to keep the bitterness out of her voice, and she's not entirely certain she's succeeded.
He gets that look on his face that Regina knows all too well. "I will then," he says.
Regina sighs, "Henry …"
"I want to understand."
"Understand what?"
"You. Why you're … I mean, why you were …" He trails off. He doesn't say evil, but the implication is clear.
Regina feels a little pang, but she supposes she deserves that. She supposes she deserves a lot of things.
Still …
"Henry, I don't think you should bother … Mr. Gold. At least, not right now." He's probably occupied with Belle anyway. She only hopes in the interim something else will come along to distract Henry. Gods only know what that bastard would tell her son about her.
For an instant, he looks like he wants to argue, but then he seems to think better of it. "Okay, I won't. Not right now." He gives her a determined look, and she knows he's only letting this drop for the moment, but he'll pick it back up soon enough. She feels a rush of both frustration and affection for the intractable nature of her sweet, stubborn son. She shakes her head and smiles at him, and he smiles back, almost cheekily.
The moment is marred but the sound of a car horn blaring, and both she and Henry start.
"That must be your … Emma." Who has no manners, just like her mother. Can't she even be bothered to come to the door?
And couldn't she give them a little more time? It feels like Henry just got here...
Regina scowls, but then quickly composes her features when she sees her son's look.
"Do you want to take the rest of the pie with you, dear?"
"No, you can keep it."
They make there way to the door. When Regina opens it, Emma Swan is leaning on her car, arms folded, looking wary, and then slightly relieved as she catches sight of Henry. Regina wonders if she even left, or just stood outside the whole time, waiting to blast the horn and claim him back.
The latter is probably the more likely scenario, she thinks.
Henry's face lights up at the sight of Emma, and Regina feels a tightness in her throat.
"I'll see you later," Henry says to her.
I hope it's not too long. "Of course, dear. Thank you for the pie."
"You're welcome." He hugs her then, and when they pull apart and he runs to Emma, it takes all of her strength not to run after him and grab him and pull him back.
Emma gives an awkward wave. Regina nods, and it's only after she's closed the door that she lets the tears fall.
Love is weakness, her mother had said. And yet, Regina cannot help but feel it. She feels it for her son. And she felt it for Daniel, she felt her for her father, she felt it for …
Well. She even still feels it for Cora, she supposes, despite everything. Which doesn't stop her from being terrified at the thought of her. Thank the gods she didn't come through the portal. At least there's that.
Regina sighs. She needs something else to focus on.
Surely there must be a way for her to keep Henry from asking Rumple – no, Gold, why can't she just think of his as Gold? – any questions about her?
Yes. She can work on that.