Regina didn't know how she'd gotten here.
Well, she knew how she'd gotten here, to this particular spot in Storybrook. She just wasn't quite sure why. She'd stormed over to the Charming's apartment this morning, hung-over, angry, and ready to yell at Emma. Or maybe Snow. Or both. But only Snow and the baby were home, and for some reason when Regina started yelling, she'd also started crying. Snow had taken one look at Regina's bloodshot eyes, grabbed her by the elbow, plunked her in a chair, and set about making tea. Regina sat there, a bit stunned, exhausted, and with a pounding headache. She wanted to curl up and die. She wished she could just pull out her own heart and crush it, but Henry was still in the back of her mind, keeping her from doing anything too drastic.
The baby started fussing, and Snow gathered him gently into her arms. Regina marveled briefly at how natural it looked. Despite everything, Snow White was supposed to be a mother, and a good one at that. Regina had known it since the day she brought baby Henry to see her for the first time and Mary Margaret had calmed her grandson so easily. Fitting that Mary Margaret had been an elementary school teacher. Everything Snow had missed with Emma, everything Regina had taken from her, she seemed to be making up for now with the baby.
Neal, Regina reminded herself. He had a name.
A timer in the kitchen buzzed. Snow jumped up, holding out her child.
"Take him for a minute while I get that, will you?"
Regina was sure the shock and terror she felt were both clearly visible on her face. She shook her head slowly, leaning as far back in her chair as she could.
Snow smiled. " I know you won't hurt him."
As Snow said it, the thought briefly crossed Regina's mind that this could be her moment of revenge (even though she knew Henry would never forgive it). How easy would it be to harm a baby as he lay in your arms? She dismissed the thought, but even so, the baby somehow ended up in her arms and she could only stare at him, stunned. The weight of him, his soft cooing, it all reminded her of Henry so. She felt tears begin flowing down her face, and an odd ache began somewhere in her middle.
Snow had pulled some cookies from the oven and arranged a few on a plate to bring to the table. She sat down again, but the compassion on her face was too much. Regina knew she would want to talk about it (after all, that's what Snow White did), and talking about it was the last thing Regina wanted to do at the moment. Instead, she thrust the baby back into his mother's arms and ran to the bathroom. She wouldn't cry. She wouldn't.
"Regina." Snow had followed her, slowly opening the door Regina had failed to close properly, and came in, placing a hand on her back. Neal fussed and then cooed in the other room.
"Regina, it's OK to grieve."
"I shouldn't have to." Regina couldn't keep the anger out of her words.
"I know." Snow's reply was so firm and even and unexpected that Regina looked up in surprise. Snow registered the response with a small smile and continued. "I too have grieved the loss of many people that I shouldn't have had to. My mother, my father, Charming, a few times, my daughter twice, my son, and countless others, some that died for me, some that I never knew if I would see again. Including a woman I though could become a friend one day. Perhaps she would never replace my mother, but I did once hope she would be more than just a stepmother to me."
Regina looked up again, truly surprised. "You… you grieved for me?"
"Yes. Many times, Regina. After I was done forgiving you, I grieved for you."
Regina couldn't believe she was asking it, but the next words almost slipped out of her mouth of their own accord. "How did you forgive me?"
"I reminded myself every morning as I woke up and every night before I fell asleep. Eventually, it became true. Then I grieved losing you and the losses you must have felt."
"I don't know how to grieve. I don't want to."
"I know it's painful, Regina, but it also provides a sense of catharsis. A release. Grieving, crying, letting it all out might be painful but it truly does help you to feel better in the end. It takes away the some of the pain and anger. It allows you to see past your initial judgment and act rationally.
The tears dripped onto the counter, and Regina fought to keep herself from sobbing. "What if I don't want to act rationally? What if I want to hurt you and hurt Emma and hurt everyone you love…"
"Because you'd only be hurting yourself more, Regina, and you know it. You would hurt Henry. And you would hurt Robin."
The words shocked Regina so much, she stopped crying. "What do you mean?"
"You love him. If you reverted, back into what you were before, you wouldn't be able to keep it from him. He would know. And he would know that you never really changed during your time with him. I believe he loved you too. He wouldn't want to see that, Regina. It would hurt him too much. No matter what happened, or what you ever did afterward, you would never have a chance of getting him back. I'm not saying you do or don't have a chance now, but you certainly wouldn't then."
"But what do I do when the pain is too much?" the words slipped out, more to herself than anything, but Snow answered anyway, with a small smile.
"You cry. You scream at the wall and throw an expensive vase so it shatters and then you cry some more. You watch a sappy movie with lots of chocolate and ice cream and wine and popcorn and you take a hot bath with bubbles and you make some hot chocolate, and eventually you will start to heal. Keep getting angry, keep lashing out, and you will never heal."
"I just don't know how. I hate being alone." The words were a murmur, broken and thick with tears, but they still tore at Snow's heart. She knew all about being alone. It had never really occurred to her how alone Regina must have felt her entire life. And now, after trying so hard to not be alone, she was left where she started. She had opened up only to bleed.
Snow took a chance. She wrapped her arms around her step-mother's crestfallen body and said firmly, "You are not alone, Regina. You will never be alone again. We are family, and regardless of the past, regardless of the pain and hurt and disconnect and complications, family will always be there. At least this family will."
Regina had tensed at Snow's first touch, but relaxed into her slightly. She lifted her head, and spoke, her voice shaking. "You really mean that?"
Snow smiled. "I know it will take work. I know it will be hard, for all of us. But family is worth fighting for. You've lost so much of yours; I've lost so much of mine. Why not try picking up the pieces and putting them together? I have a feeling they just might fit."
Though she was still wary of the whole concept, Regina felt a tiny bit of hope spark inside her. Maybe this would work. She would never know unless she tried. She offered Snow a tiny smile, and keeping her voice as light as possible said, "I guess we should start by seeing if those cookies you made are any good, then."
When Snow smiled back, Regina realized it didn't necessarily matter how she got her, it just mattered that this was where she was now, and, for the time being, where she was going to stay.