Regina Mills had been alone for a very long time. Sure, as Queen, and now Mayor, she enjoyed the company of men and women as she pleased, but they never stayed long. In fact, they never stayed more than a night. She simply couldn't bring herself to form a meaningful relationship after Daniel's death, as much as she longed for the peace it would bring.
In the end, she was always alone.
She didn't even recognize what she was doing at first. Being single for a few years after witnessing the death of the man you thought to be the love of your life is perfectly reasonable. It wasn't until the seventh anniversary of his death that she realized just how isolated her life had become. Her only friends in the world were her father, her horse, and a couple friendly handmaidens (though she suspected it was fear that drove their kindness). She hadn't entertained a romantic thought about anyone beyond the abstract of a future happiness with a future someone - if that even existed.
Still, after more than three decades, she had yet to feel anything more than a vague intellectual recognition that she should feel something akin to butterflies, or whatever it was those god awful movies called it, when confronted with a suitor. She was simply numb to it.
More often than she cared to admit, however, Regina found herself imagining, in the most domestic of ways, a partner. While she of course still did indulge in fantasies of a sexual nature, they had long since lost their shine. She was more concerned with the idea of a confidant, someone to grow old with.
A phantom pieced together from long lost memories of safety in another's arms. It manifested itself in a warm and comforting tingle, which somehow instinctively felt like a piece of something greater. A tingling hand was never just a hand, but instead always brought the comfort of a whole body.
Regina began to expect this, and often attempted to will it into existence within the safe confines of her office, away from what seemed to be hordes of happy couples in town.
Other times, she didn't even think about it. She would be watching a movie or reading a book, when suddenly the familiar tingling sensation would spread across her side. Even while making dinner, the lightest of hands would brush across the small of her back. It was as if she was reliving a memory she never had and if she was still enough long enough, it felt real.
There were some nights when she needed to think about it, needed to relive it. On these nights, the phantoms wouldn't come but she didn't think they did for the real memories, the ones with faces and dates and feelings attached. She would imagine simple things like safety. Hugging Daniel before she left the stables for the day. Kissing Daniel under the oak tree. Daniel playing with her hair after they made love for the first time.
Then, she would remember it had been over thirty years since she felt safe. And she would rest her open palm out on the terminally empty side of her bed, close her eyes, and start all over again.