I have been working on this idea since The Miller's Daughter aired, but I'm glad I waited until the season ended to post it. I'm not the first to attempt this sort of fic, but I believe I am the first to also include some of the events of the back half of the season.
Despite that, this fic is still mostly fluffy family feels.
Enjoy!
There was something distantly sad about the whole affair, killing the man and stealing his powers. She had loved him once. She still might. She had no choice, however, not anymore. She was in far too deep. He had to die. She needed that power, needed it to protect her family, to get her daughter's son back. She needed it because power was the only way to succeed, it was how she had crawled out of the dirt all those years ago. Power had set her free, and it would continue to do so now. Power would give her back the family she had lost.
This was necessary, as everything had been.
Slowly, she raised the dagger into the air. Her hand quivered with tension. All she had to do was plunge it into his chest. That was it, and his power would be hers. She could have everything she had always wanted. She adjusted her fist around the hilt of the blade, and swallowed hard.
He was dying anyways, and her window of opportunity was limited. If she was to act it must be now. She could feel him slipping away as the seconds passed. The Dark One, dying in bed in a dusty old store. Pathetic. She clenched the dagger tightly, preparing to plunge it into his heart. The heart of the only man she had ever loved.
Her hand stayed.
Rumpelstiltskin died.
Suddenly she felt a burst of white-hot pain. The now blank dagger slipped from her fingers, falling to ground. The pain radiated out of her chest, spreading to every orifice of her body. It burned as if her very blood was on fire. She stumbled backwards, grasping at her chest and struggling to breathe. Then the pain faded, as quickly as it had come, leaving her feeling curiously warm inside. She regained her balance, and looked up.
Standing before her was the most beautiful sight she had ever laid eyes on.
Her daughter.
Her daughter.
All of the love Cora had locked away suddenly poured out of her. She was struck dumb by it, unable to move, barely able to breathe. This was how it should have felt all those years ago, when she had first held her baby. This was what she had missed. She felt a pang of regret.
But it was dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of her love, and all she could do was smile, smile and drink in the sight of her. Her beautiful girl. Regina.
"Mother," Regina breathed, grinning widely. Cora felt giddy, as though she could simply leap up and she would fly. She let out a laugh, her first real laugh in more years than she cared to count. She stepped forward, still gripping her chest and wrestling with the unfamiliar strength of this emotion. Tears welled up in her eyes and for once didn't care that it might be weakness.
"Regina," she whispered, reaching out to touch her daughter's hair in wonder. Regina smiled again, even bigger.
"Mother." Cora could see Regina was blinking back tears of her own. She shook her head in absolute disbelief, and without warning flung herself at her daughter, pulling her close. She felt Regina return the embrace.
"Oh, my girl. My beautiful, darling girl," she cried, clinging to Regina as tightly as she could. She could barely understand it, this feeling, this unadulterated love that seemed to consume every inch of her being where before only an empty desire for power had been. She couldn't stop crying in her joy, nor did she particularly care to.
"Mother," She heard Regina laughing slightly. "I knew it would work, I knew it." Cora pulled back, cupping Regina's face in her hands and beaming at her through watery eyes.
"Regina, stop!" came a shout from the doorway. Startled, the two women jumped apart as Snow White and her husband stopped short. Frantically Snow glanced back and forth between Cora and Regina.
"What? I don't understand..."
"What do you mean?" Regina asked. "You told me to give her back her heart. And I did," Regina couldn't contain her smile, looking at Cora fondly. "You were right." Cora, who hadn't stopped smiling for even an instant, took Regina's hand in hers. Snow looked stunned for a moment, but shook herself, and smiled as well. Then she saw the man on the bed, and her smile fell away.
"No...no, I was too late! You killed him," she said, pointing at Cora accusatorily. "You have his power!" Cora shook her head.
"No Snow, I don't. He died before I could take it," she said, glancing back towards the bed. She felt a small twinge of sadness for the man she had once loved. Those feelings were old, having long been buried beneath years of hatred and vengeance, but somewhere inside her they still existed. After all, she hadn't been able to kill him, even before Regina had returned her heart. She could see now that she never could have.
In the end she was just as weak as anyone else.
"So he...he's really gone? And his powers...they're gone too?" Snow asked, eyes flicking back and forth between the two women and Rumpelstiltskin's body. Cora nodded, releasing Regina's hand to bend down and pick up the dagger.
"See for yourself," she said, showing Snow that it was indeed blank. No new Dark One had been named. Snow just shook her head incredulously.
"I can't believe this." Her husband came up behind her, placing his hand on her arm in a gesture of comfort.
Suddenly something occurred to Cora.
I'll turn Snow White's heart black as coal.
Cora blanched, the realization of what she had done sinking in. Oh, she didn't regret killing the spoiled princess who'd made her life hell all those years ago.
But Snow had been an innocent...she'd never intended to hurt the innocent. She'd never intended to leave a child motherless. Even if it was Eva's child, the bubbly little thing who'd seemed such a nuisance to Cora. She had loathed Snow White, though the child had been a crucial pawn in her plan. She was Eva's daughter, and later Regina's enemy. That alone had been enough to invoke her ire.
Now it seemed so petty.
Cora staggered backwards, sinking onto the bed next to Rumpelstiltskin. She placed her head in hands, letting everything wash over her.
"Mother? Mother, are you all right?" Regina asked worriedly, sitting next to her. Cora looked up, staring at Snow, and for a moment she appeared to be the twelve year old girl whose mother Cora had stolen. She shook her head in disbelief.
"Snow..." she gasped. "Snow, I..."
"You killed my mother," she said darkly, eyes narrowing. "You killed Johanna." Cora swallowed. She'd forgotten the servant woman. An inconsequential human being, but an innocent nonetheless. Gods, she'd killed so many nameless people...that had never been her intention. Only the royals. It was only supposed to be the royals. She felt Regina's hand on her shoulder.
Regina.
All the wasted years came flooding back, all the time spent mistreating her, all the misunderstandings, all the the times she had ignored her little girl. And then there was the stable boy. She felt sick to her stomach thinking about it. Admittedly, even now she wouldn't want that life for Regina, but killing him had been entirely unnecessary. Everything she had done had been so unnecessary.
Such a waste, all of it. And for what? For power?
"Regina..." she said in a stricken tone. "Regina..."
What have I done?
This was not what Cora had intended when she'd removed her heart. She'd wanted the King and the rest of the aristocracy to bow before her, she'd craved that power, the feeling of victory at watching her tormentors on their knees. Even now she could still feel that burning anger, the hatred at those who'd stepped on her for the entirety of her youth.
But never, never had she intended to abuse the people she should have loved. Never had she intended to kill the innocent. Never had she thought she would go this far.
She should have just gone with Rumpelstiltskin that night. But she had been afraid, so afraid of the depth of her feelings, so afraid of that weakness. She'd spent her entire life being poor and weak, nothing but a peasant. She had refused to ever feel such helplessness again. So the heart had to go.
It had been the wrong choice, she could see that now. Still, in the face of all these emotions, this sadness, this regret, this love...she knew still why she had done it.
Quite frankly this felt awful. She felt so weak.
But she could also feel Regina's hand on her shoulder, feel the concerned gaze of the only one she had loved with and without her heart.
This was enough. Regina was enough.
She met her daughter's eyes, the same deep brown as her own and felt the immense weight of guilt crash down upon her.
"Regina, I...I am so..." even now, she choked on the word. Regina only smiled, blinking back tears.
"I know why you did it," she said. "You wanted what was best for me." Cora shook her head.
"I wanted power," she corrected. Regina lowered her gaze, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. She opened them again.
"It's in the past." Cora got the sense Regina wasn't being entirely honest with her, but made no comment. How could she, when she was to blame? She glared at her hands in her lap. These hands that had ripped out so many hearts...how could she begin to justify that to herself? But she had done it, that heartless woman had been her, she could remember the difference. Keeping her emotions stunted had proved useful, it kept her from being weak...but what had she done with it?
Destroy. She had destroyed everything.
How could she now face regretting it? But how could she not? Frustration built up inside her, unbridled and wild. She felt so unlike the cold and collected woman she had been not twenty minutes ago. This was ridiculous.
"We should go home," she heard Regina say. She nodded, and allowed Regina to haul her up. She spared a glance at Snow's dumbfounded face, and instantly regretted it. She felt so torn. She had killed the girl's mother, but she had also gotten her vengeance on the pampered little brat who could have caused her and her father to starve.
Cora loathed this conflict. She loathed this weakness.
Even so, in her state of shock she let Regina lead her out of the shop, where they vanished in a puff of smoke.
Rumpelstiltskin's funeral was a quiet affair, organized by his son. Few were invited, and even fewer attended. Cora watched in silence from her place behind a large oak tree as the coffin was lowered into the ground by Rumpel's son, Baelfire. The Swan girl, a pretty brunette Cora didn't know, and the boy, Henry, were the only others there.
She fixed her gaze on Henry. Her grandson.
This was the first time she had seen him in person. The boy would grow up to be handsome, Cora could see that. She could also see he was compassionate, as he placed what appeared to be a daisy on the headstone while the others filled the hole with dirt. It was a simple grave, made of only plain gray marble. Hardly worthy of the charismatic Dark One, the man who'd oh-so-long ago stolen Cora's heart with his strange charm and seductive ways. They had been equals, the two of them. He had taught her magic- she had perfected it. Cora had been an eager student, and far more creative with her magic than her master at first had dared to believe. They had spent many an afternoon together, talking and practicing spells, amongst other more pleasurable activities.
That had been many years ago. Cora had thought perhaps she had stopped loving the man, after all she had planned to kill him. But when her hand had refused to move, refused to stab him with that dagger, she had known- of course she still loved him.
Only when her heart had been returned to her had the full depths of that love been felt.
Even so, it was still far less passionate than it had been in her youth. She would always love the man, but she could feel no true remorse at his passing. She was a little sad, perhaps, but if his death meant she was able to live with her daughter, well, that was surely worth it.
She watched the small family mourn quietly, and wished she was able to join them. Sulking behind this tree was beneath her- she had been a Queen, for heaven's sakes!
"Mother?" came a voice beside her. Cora jumped, and turned to see that her daughter had appeared next to her, the tendrils of smoke vanishing beside her black hair. "What are you doing here?"
Cora sighed, returning her gaze to the grave. She saw Baelfire attempt to put his arm around Emma Swan's shoulder. She shrugged him off, stalking away. Henry followed, as did Baelfire after a moment. Only the brunette was left. She laid a single rose on the headstone, then she too turned and left.
Hesitantly, Cora stepped out from behind the trees, Regina following behind her.
"A single rose," she said disparagingly, stopping next to the headstone. She waved her hand, and an entire bouquet appeared. "Surely the little wench can do better than that."
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Regina looking quite nauseous.
"Mother...did you...? Were you and he...?" Cora nodded sadly, ignoring the gagging noise Regina made.
"He was the only man I ever really loved," she said, staring fixedly at the fresh dirt. "He is why I removed my heart in the first place." She turned then, facing her daughter.
"But it's all right now," she said, smiling softly. "I have you." Regina lowered her eyes.
"Yes, you do," she replied, looking back up. Cora ran a hand through her hair, a gesture that before had been used to control but now contained only softness. The difference was palpable to Cora, and the sheer weight of what she had done to this girl struck her once again.
"Come on, we shouldn't be here," Regina said, linking her arm with Cora's and transporting them back home in a cloud of purple smoke.
The roses lay forgotten on the grave, a reminder only of what could have been.
A week passed.
Cora sat in the kitchen, sipping a cup of tea (she had finally learned how to use the strange cooking-box to boil water,) and reading one of Regina's cooking magazines. In their old land, Cora would never have touched such a thing. Cooking had been the work of servants, a lady wouldn't dream of entering the kitchen. But as the miller's daughter, she had been forced to learn after her mother had passed. Her father certainly wouldn't do it. And though the cursed man deserved it, Cora couldn't have let them starve.
She flipped through some of the recipes, wondering if Regina might teach her how to use the other magic kitchen box...an oven, it was called? She eyed a quiche recipe- it seemed doable, if impossible to pronounce.
She heard footsteps behind her, and turned to see Regina wandering into the kitchen. She still wore her bathrobe, and her hair was mussed from sleep. Cora smiled.
"Good morning, dear," she said. Regina grunted, pulling coffee beans and a mug out of a cupboard. Cora felt a flicker of irritation at her daughter's crassness, but knew better than to say anything. This wasn't her world anymore. She frowned, returning to the magazine.
"What are you reading?" Regina asked, not looking up from where she was preparing her coffee.
"A recipe," Cora answered. "I thought I might try it tonight." Regina looked up in alarm.
"Mother do you remember what happened the last time you tried cooking? I had to replace the stove and all my countertops!" Cora frowned.
"Well you could have just used magic..." she mumbled. Regina sighed irritably.
"Mother you know I promised Henry I wouldn't! And I won't break that promise. Not again," she snapped, shoving the coffee pot into the machine and pressing a button. Cora resisted the urge to roll her eyes.
"I doubt Henry would care if you used magic to fix your kitchen," she muttered. Regina glared at her.
"That is not the point, mother! What would you know, you've abused magic your entire life," she said angrily. Cora exhaled through her nose, keeping her gaze focused solely on the magazine.
"It's not a drug, Regina."
"Will you look at me!" Regina yelled, slamming the mug on the counter. Cora jumped, startled into meeting her daughter's eyes. Regina opened her mouth as if to say something, but instead shook her head helplessly. Cora noticed the tears in her eyes, and her anger faded.
"Is this ever going to stop?" she asked. Regina sighed.
"Doubtful."
"I don't want to fight you anymore," Cora pleaded.
"I don't want that either," Regina admitted, "but you know I can't...we still..."
"You haven't forgiven me," Cora guessed. Regina turned away, leaning her elbows on the counter and fiddling with her mug.
"I can't...you let me grow up without a mother," she said softly. Cora stood then, making her way to Regina's side. "You could've put your heart back in at any time, but you didn't. How can I forgive that?" The seemingly ever-present tears pricked at Cora's eyes.
"I know. And if I could take it back, I would, truly," she said, taking Regina's hand and squeezing it gently. "I'm really trying, Regina, but you're not making it easy for me, and-"
"This isn't about you!" Regina exclaimed. "You made the wrong choice, I'm the one who suffered for it!" She brought a hand up to her head, leaning against it.
Cora could say nothing to that. Regina was right of course- Rumpelstiltskin had once warned her. She could almost hear his high pitched voice "all magic comes with a price!" She couldn't have known then, but Regina had been the one to pay it.
The coffee machine beeped.
Two weeks passed, and they were arguing again.
"Regina, I know you still aren't happy! If you would just let me, I could find a way to get Henry back, I could-"
"You could what? Kill his family? He'd never accept that!" Regina stormed out of the kitchen and into the living room. Cora followed, hot on her heels.
"I would not. But a month ago you were perfectly fine with killing to get Henry back, you went right along with my plans. What changed, Regina?" she shouted. Regina turned to face her.
"Nothing changed, mother! Why do you think I went along with your schemes? I couldn't do anything else!" She yelled, throwing her hands in the air. "What would you have done, if I hadn't listened to you?"
"I-"
"What would you have done?" she demanded again, glaring. Vaguely Cora remembered the curse of the empty hearted, and cringed. But she knew she would have cast it, had her first plan not worked out. She had been so desperate to get her daughter back.
And so foolish in her approach.
"You wouldn't have had a choice," was all she whispered, lowering her gaze to the carpet. Regina scoffed.
"Exactly. That's why I listened to you, not because I liked your crazy plan." Cora felt a twinge of hurt, but then, she knew that her daughter was right- her plan had been completely ridiculous. Pride was all that prevented her from admitting it.
"You were only afraid of me," she said sadly.
"Mother, I spent all of my childhood afraid of you, I'm still-
"You're still afraid of me." There was silence for a moment.
"You abused me," Regina finally said, blinking back tears. "For years. With magic."
"I know," Cora said. "I know and I'm sor-"
"Don't," Regina interrupted, chuckling madly. "Just don't."
"What else do you want from me? If I could go back and change my decisions, I would. You know that," Cora said, fighting to control her frustration. Regina just shook her head, sitting heavily on the couch.
"You can't," she said, crossing her arms. "You can't change it and you can't make up for it." Cora couldn't remember the last time she'd felt so helpless, so out of control of a situation. She hated it.
"Then what can I do?" she asked angrily. "What can I possibly do if you refuse to give me a chance?" Slowly, Regina met her mother's eyes. Her face softened.
"We just move forward."
Another week passed. Summer was fast approaching, and the small town was finally beginning to warm up. To Cora it still seemed cold, but then, she was used to the warmer climate of their old land.
Still, the sun was shining today, though it was near sunset, and it was quite beautiful out.
Shrugging her sweater on, Cora opened the back door and stepped out onto the patio where Regina sat reading a book. Cora smiled at the sight, her daughter curled up on the cushioned swinging bench. Rarely did she look so content.
"Did you want something, mother?" Regina asked, not looking up from her reading. Cora sat in one of the patio chairs.
"Not really," she answered. "Can't I just spend some time with my daughter?"
"That's all you do, mother," Regina said. Cora frowned, stung.
"Well if you don't want me here, I'll just-"
"No, no, that's not what I meant," Regina interrupted, finally looking up from her book. Cora sighed, leaning back in the chair. She was so tired of this.
"I'm just trying to make up for lost time," she said simply. Regina nodded.
"I know." A heavy truth seemed to hang between them- neither woman really knew how to spend time with the other. Not without fighting or plotting murder. Cora racked her brain for something to say.
"Have...have you seen Henry lately?" she asked after a moment of tense silence. Immediately Regina's face lit up.
"Yes, at the diner the other day," she said. Cora dawdled for a moment, fiddling with her thumbs. The question she'd wanted to ask for quite some time lingered on the tip of her tongue.
"Will I ever get to meet him?" she finally asked.
"What?"
"Henry. Your son. My grandson." Regina gaped, fumbling awkwardly with her book.
"W-well, I...mother, you have to understand, that's..." Cora frowned.
"It's what Regina? Complicated? Do you think I don't know that?" she said, fighting against the anger she felt boiling inside her. Just how did people live with these strong emotions all the time?
"It is complicated, the idiots barely let me see him as is, and I don't want-"
"He's your son!" Cora insisted. "Why do they get to determine who sees him and who doesn't?" Now it was Regina's turn to frown.
"Because I'm the Evil Queen," she said bitterly. "They don't trust me. Not even Henry trusts me."
"Well that's just...oh what's the word here?" Cora paused for a moment, trying to remember the phrase she had heard once on the magic picture box.
"It's bullshit," she said as it came to her. Regina looked up, startled.
"Did you just swear?" Cora blinked.
"Yes, I suppose," she admitted. Regina suddenly burst out laughing, and Cora felt affronted, and blood rushed to her face.
"Just what is so funny?" she demanded. Regina struggled to control herself. Cora crossed her arms. Really, of all the un-ladylike behavior.
"I'm sorry, it's just...you, of all people, swearing!" she giggled. Cora smiled despite herself. Before she quite knew what was happening they were both in hysterics, over what Cora wasn't quite sure.
It was completely ridiculous, completely without point. It was something Cora had never done without her heart. She had never been able too.
It felt wonderful, she realized, and she laughed all the harder at the knowledge.
But the moment broke. Regina's laughter turned to sobbing, startling Cora out of her mirth. She moved to sit next to her daughter on the bench, placing an arm around her. Regina curled into the embrace, crying on her mother's shoulder. Cora felt that she could cry as well. Could they not simply have a nice moment together? Must it always end in shouting or tears?
"What is it, sweetie?" she asked softly, swallowing her sadness. She stroked Regina's arm gently.
"It's not fair," Regina choked out. "It's just not fair." Cora wasn't quite sure to what Regina was referring, but she nodded all the same.
"I know darling," she murmured, "I know." Regina sniffed, looking up.
"Next time we meet at the diner," she said thickly, wiping her streaming eyes, "you can come with me. To see Henry." Cora felt an almost childish burst of excitement, and smiled broadly.
"Really? You will let me meet him?" she asked, hardly daring to get her hopes too high. Regina nodded.
"I know you won't hurt him," she said, sniffing again. Cora squeezed Regina's shoulder affectionately.
"I'd never have hurt my grandson," she assured. "Even without my heart. I know what he means to you." Regina frowned, leaning back against Cora's shoulder.
"You hurt me," she said softly. Cora flinched.
"I didn't here. I wouldn't have here," she said, running a hand through Regina's hair.
"You wouldn't have?"
"No. I realized, after you sent me through the looking glass, that it was a mistake, treating you like...like that," she said, struggling with the words.
"That doesn't excuse it," Regina muttered, wrapping her arms around Cora's waist.
"I know."
They sat like that for a while, watching the sun sink behind the trees, Cora gently swinging the bench back and forth with her feet. Each lost in their own thoughts, neither willing to let go of the other. Cora mused that their relationship was so strange at times. They were both so damaged. But there was love between them, Cora knew. That love had always given her hope. It was what had driven her to follow Regina to Storybrooke in the first place. It was what kept her here now.
Regina shivered slightly, and Cora realized she must be cold, wearing only a thin white shirt and black slacks. She waved her hand and a blanket appeared in a puff of purple smoke. She pulled it around her daughter's shoulders, and Regina gave a small smile, snuggling just a bit closer to her mother.
Cora could still remember the last time they had sat like this. Regina had been young, perhaps twelve or thirteen. It had been when she had first reached menarche. Regina had been frightened, and in pain, so Cora had sat with her that first night. She had known all too well what her daughter had been going through, and even then in her heartless state she had felt a shred of sympathy that only two women can ever share. So she had allowed the closeness, and had honestly reveled in it. Regina hadn't usually wanted to be so near to her, and Cora hadn't usually allowed such weakness to be displayed. But it had been nice then, and it was even nicer now.
She looked down at Regina, and noticed that her eyes had closed. Cora smiled fondly, and her heart swelled with love for her daughter. She must have been tired. After all, emotions had been running high for quite some time now.
Cora knew she was partially to blame for that. Truthfully, she felt a certain amount of relief that Regina was able to relax at all around her. She look so peaceful as she dozed. Cora marveled at the sight. This was what she had missed all those years she had been heartless. These small moments, and the love that filled them.
Gods, she had been such a fool, to sacrifice this for power. She remembered all those empty years as the Queen of Hearts. All the power in that world, and yet she had had no one. And now here she was, in a land with no true power, but she had her daughter. And though the power had been nice, this was nicer still. Love, she found, was so much more fulfilling than being Queen had ever been.
And it was worth all the power in the world.
Three days passed.
At the door to the diner, Cora hesitated.
"Mother? Come on, Henry's waiting," Regina urged, her hand already poised to open the door. Cora could see the excitement in her eyes- Regina lived for these moments.
But Cora, for the first time in years, was terrified. She smoothed her hands down over her jacket, trying to prevent them from shaking.
This was not like her- she was one of the most powerful magic wielders from their land. She was Cora, the miller's daughter who became Queen. She who had been heartless should have nothing to fear. Yet she found herself unable to enter that diner. Not out of fear of the peasants, though admittedly living in a town where most of the population wanted you dead was a bit disconcerting.
It was rejection that she feared.
"He'll dislike me," she whispered, staring at the concrete sidewalk. Regina glanced back at the diner, towards Henry's curious face in the window, before turning to her mother.
"He won't. I've explained things to him. He wants to meet you," she said, placing a hand on Cora's shoulder. Cora's eyes flickered up, meeting her daughter's. "I told you all this last night," Regina continued. Cora sighed, it was true, her daughter had reassured her of this yesterday- and the day before that, and the day before that. But still, Cora couldn't shake the lingering fear. And now that the moment was here...
"I promise, it'll be fine," Regina said again, smiling. She took Cora's hand, pulling her towards the door. Cora had no choice but to follow, and to her chagrin her pounded violently in her chest. She noted that fear really was quite annoying; she hated how it paralyzed her.
Regina opened the door and there he was- Henry, sitting at one of the tables. Cora froze, the blood draining from her face. But the boy smiled and waved at them, gesturing towards the table. Regina smiled back and made her way over, leaving Cora standing still in the doorway. She watched as Henry got up to embrace his mother, and she saw how Regina's face lit up like a light bulb. Cora's instincts had been right all along, even in the time when she hadn't had a heart, she had known- this was her daughter's happiness.
Regina looked up then, beckoning for her mother to join them at the table. Sparing no glances for the other costumers shooting glares her way, Cora swallowed hard, fixing her gaze solely on her family. Regina released Henry and straightened up.
"Mother, come on!" she called, gesturing again. Cora breathed deeply, trying to read Henry's face. It was impassive- perhaps a little inquisitive- but not unwelcoming. She couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. Slowly she stepped forward, willing her knees not to buckle. For once she was glad of her upbringing- it had taught her to never give in to weakness. And if love was not, then fear certainly was.
But this was what she had wanted, wasn't it? To meet her grandson. This really shouldn't be so frightening. Was rejection such an awful feeling? It's not like she wasn't already hated by several people- what would one more really mean?
But then, Henry wasn't just another person. This was her grandson.
She stopped just in front of the table, and Henry gave her the slightest of smiles.
"Mother, this is Henry. Henry-" Regina bent down to his level, "this is your grandmother, Cora." Cora smiled weakly.
"Hello Henry," she managed to say. "I've heard a lot about you." Henry looked up at her quizzically.
"Hi," he said, sticking out his hand. "Nice to meet you." Cora couldn't help but feel amused- Regina had clearly raised him to be polite. She smiled a little more brightly, taking his hand.
"Nice to meet you," she agreed. Regina motioned for them to sit, Henry on one side of the table, Regina and Cora on the other. Cora noted that the seats were a little strange- cushioned in a plastic material, and one had to slide to get into them.
"What can I get you Henry?" Cora looked up to see the wolf-girl approaching them. She adjusted her pad of paper and looked only at Henry, rather pointedly ignoring the other two women.
"I'll have a cheeseburger and fries," Henry said, grinning. He glanced at Regina, who gave him a meaningful stare. "And just water to drink." Regina smiled. Cora wondered at that- what had Henry been about to order then, if not water? She shot Regina a questioning look.
"The food here isn't very healthy," Regina explained. "I never let Henry have the sugary drinks- they'd rot his teeth." Across the table, Henry rolled his eyes, but Cora nodded in agreement with her daughter. At that moment the wolf-girl turned, frowning at the two former queens.
"What do you want?" she snapped. Regina bristled, and Cora's fingers itched to punish the girl for her insolence- she restrained herself only because of the presence of her grandson.
"I'll have a caesar salad and a glass of water," Regina said tersely. "And as for my mother..." suddenly a mischievous grin broke out on her face.
"Get her a hotdog!" Henry piped up from the other side of the table.
"A what?!"
"That sounds perfect," Regina agreed, winking at Henry. Cora had an awful feeling about this.
"If you two are plotting to poison me-"
"I would," the wolf-girl muttered. "So that's a cheeseburger and fries, caesar salad, a hotdog, and three waters? Or does the witch prefer blood with her meals?" Cora met the wolf's glare with one of her own, and raised a glowing purple hand.
"Remember that I could kill you in a heartbeat if I so desired, wolf-girl," she hissed. "Water will be fine." She lowered her hand, letting the magic fade. The wolf-girl sneered and flounced away.
"I'm not a witch," Cora murmured. Beneath the table, Regina took Cora's other hand and squeezed. Across the table Henry looked somewhat frightened. Cora glanced at him apologetically, feeling a pang of guilt for almost letting her anger get the better of her.
"I wouldn't have really killed her," she assured him.
"But before...before you would have?" he asked. Cora could only nod at this.
"I was heartless for a very long time, Henry. I made a lot of wrong choices. Old habits die hard," she explained. To her own annoyance, she felt a brief flicker of frustration at having to justify herself to an eleven year old- but she remembered this was her grandson. If nothing else she wanted to make a good impression.
"But, you're changing right? My mom said you were, that's why she let you come here," he said, glancing back and forth between the two of them.
"Yes, she is," Regina answered. She smiled briefly at Cora. "She really is." Cora smiled back, and wondered what she had done right to wind up with such a wonderful daughter.
And wondered how she could ever have wanted to hurt her.
"And you don't really want to kill anyone?" Henry asked, looking back at Cora. She met his eyes, and shook her head.
"No, I don't," she said, sighing. "Not anymore." Henry smiled and nodded.
"Okay then." Cora smiled back.
"So, Henry, tell me about yourself," she said, and with that the boy was off, rambling about school, his family, and how he had figured out the curse- Regina looked more and more uncomfortable the more he went on about it. Cora patted her hand in an attempt at comfort, but was pleased that the boy was obviously bright. It spoke well of Regina's parenting.
Henry was interrupted by the arrival of their food. Cora had never seen such a strange looking meal- a long stick of an unidentifiable meat covered with a bizarre red sauce sitting in bread. She searched for utensils, but found none.
"How on Earth do you eat this?" she asked, poking at it. Henry grinned.
"You pick it up," he said, doing so with this own meal. Cora blinked, but gingerly grasped the- what had it been called? Hotdog? It smelled peculiar to her.
"What exactly is this?" she asked.
"No one really knows," Regina said. "A little of this, a little of that." Cora paled.
"Eat it!" Henry urged between mouthfuls of burger. Steeling herself, Cora screwed her eyes shut and bit into it. The greasy flavor was unlike anything she had ever tasted before. She swallowed, resisting the urge to gag.
"That was revolting," she said, and Henry laughed. Regina, for all her attempted decorum, had to stifle a giggle behind her napkin. Cora scowled, but her heart felt lighter than it had in ages.
This was what she could have had, instead of empty power. This was what family was supposed to be.
A week passed.
There had been whispering throughout the town for nigh on a month, and eventually Snow White herself had shown up at Regina's doorstep, begging that she help them get rid of a little problem.
Two problems, to be precise.
They called themselves Greg and Tamara, and if Cora wasn't mistaken, their goal was to eradicate the town of its magic.
Cora had scoffed at this. There was nothing more powerful than magic. What could possibly be a threat to it? She had written off Snow White's concerns as nothing but idiocy. Regina, however, had seemed more worried, and had agreed to help for Henry's sake.
Cora had refused. She couldn't bear to be around Snow White, not after what she had done to that girl. And not after the little snowflake had let slip she had tried to have her killed.
Now, however, she was beginning to wish she had agreed after all. At least then she might know just what was keeping her daughter.
Regina had left the house at six that morning, claiming she was just heading to her office for a short while. She had said something about paperwork that Cora couldn't be bothered to care about.
But it was nearly noon, Regina hadn't returned, and Cora was beginning to worry. Could something have happened?
Once more she glanced at the clock on Regina's mantle. 11:53. Something was definitely wrong.
There was a knock on the door.
Cora rushed over, scarcely daring to hope that Regina had simply forgotten her key. She was disappointed, as she pulled open the door to see Snow White and her daughter.
"Can I help you?" Cora asked stiffly.
"We're so sorry to bother you, we wouldn't, but it's just…" Snow trailed off, looking helplessly towards her daughter.
"Have you seen Regina this morning?" the blonde girl, Emma, asked bluntly. Cora frowned.
"No, not since she left."
"And when was that?"
"Around six." Snow clapped a hand to her mouth. Emma furrowed her brow.
"Something's not right." She looked up at Cora. "We need to find her. Can you use your magic?" Wrestling with the pit of worry that had sprung up somewhere in her stomach, Cora nodded.
"Yes, of course," she said, stepping back into the parlor. Snow and Emma trailed behind her. "You mean to say neither of you have seen her either?"
"No, we haven't," Snow said. Cora crossed the room to Regina's bookshelf, pulling out her old spell book and rifling through the pages.
"What…are you…?" Emma asked nervously.
"Scrying spell. It's tricky in this land, but not impossible. Follow me," she said, snapping the book shut and making her way up the stairs. Snow and Emma followed, each appearing more nervous than the other. Cora resisted the urge to simply transport them there. She had no patience for the awkward tension in the room, not when her daughter might be in danger. On the landing, she immediately headed for Regina's bathroom.
"Um…what are you doing?" Emma asked. Cora shot her an irritated look.
"Hoping Regina has left something here we can use," she said, procuring Regina's hairbrush from one of the drawers. Aha!" She pulled a strand of black hair out of the bristles. "You, Swan girl, hand me that mirror," she said, pointing to Regina's silver hand mirror. Emma did so, appearing disgruntled at how she was addressed. Cora could hardly find it in her to care.
She knelt down on the tiled floor, placing Regina's hair in the center of the mirror.
"Stand back," she instructed, "I don't know if this will work. Magic is different here." Emma did as instructed, and Snow stepped back ever further, hugging herself anxiously. Cora felt a flicker of annoyance with the girl, but pushed it aside and extended her hands over the mirror. She pictured Regina, and allowed that emotion to fuel her magic.
The mirror glowed a soft purple. It lifted up off the floor, shaking and rattling as it went. Cora frowned in concentration. It shouldn't be taking this long. A vein pulsed in her forehead, willing the magic to work properly…
Gold light shot out of the mirror, and there before her appeared a dim image of Regina. Cora frowned even deeper as the picture came into focus. Regina was in a dark room, made all of wood. There was very little light except what streamed in from the dusty windows. Regina appeared to be strapped to some strange metal bed. Cora could just barely make out thin wires attached to her. She looked weak, as though she had been injured or taken ill. The sight made Cora want to strangle someone, but she maintained her temper for the moment, peering more closely at the vision.
On the other side of the room was a dark skinned woman, and an enraged light skinned man. The woman said something and left the room. The man replied to her, then turned and yelled at Regina. Regina said something in return; her expression indicated gloating. The man in his rage pressed a large red button on a strange box, and Regina convulsed in pain, her entire body shuddering from the force of whatever the man had done. Cora could see that she was screaming…she felt ill at the jolt of realization. She knew enough about wires in this world to know what was happening. Hadn't Regina warned her not to touch them, when Cora had seen one with the copper bit exposed? Hadn't she said exactly what could happen? Horrified, Cora felt bile rise in her throat. Her hands shook and the image faded, the mirror clattering back to the ground. The glass shattered. Cora coughed then, choking back vomit.
Her daughter…her daughter…
"She's…she's being tortured…" Cora gasped, clutching at her chest. Her heart was racing, and even now the feeling was so foreign. She felt a hand grip her arm, pulling her to her feet. Her legs trembled, but she remained standing.
"What?" came the dismayed voice of Snow White. Cora brushed Emma's hand away, clutching the edge of the sink tightly.
"There…there was a box…with wires…and a man…"
"Greg," Emma hissed. "Where were they? Can you get us there?" Cora nodded.
"Yes…yes, I saw the room well enough. Take my arm," she said, reaching out. Snow and Emma did as instructed. Cora took a deep breath, picturing the room in her mind's eye. With a puff of purple smoke they were gone.
Cora opened her eyes, praying she had taken them to the right place.
She had. The first thing she saw was the stunned countenance of the balding man. The second was her daughter.
It was worse in person. Regina was pale as death. Deep purple shadows rimmed her blank eyes, and there were tearstains on her cheeks. Her face seemed gaunt and sallow, so unlike how Cora knew her daughter's face to be. Even unconscious (Cora couldn't bring herself to think the worst), her brows were knit tightly together in pain. Cora could see the angry red burns poking out from where the wires were attached. The skin was melting away, and smoke tendrils floated away from the metal. She could smell the burnt flesh in the air, mixed with fish.
Once again Cora had to fight back the urge vomit. This was a weakness she had never known, an absolute terror that blocked out every other feeling. Vaguely she heard a noise from somewhere above her head, and Snow dashed off. She couldn't care, not with Regina looking so near death. She stumbled forward, towards her daughter, her baby…
And then gunshots rang out, one, two. The man flattened himself against the wall. Cora looked up at his fearful face, and then there was nothing but white-hot fury. She flung herself at him, pure adrenaline pumping through her veins as she shot fireball after fireball.
"Cora, no, stop!" Emma cried, but Cora was deaf to her pleas. She grabbed the scruff of the man's shirt, yanking him off the floor and slamming him against the wall. Injured from her barrage of fire, he did not fight back. She placed her hand on his chest.
"You hurt my daughter," she growled. His eyes met hers. She could see every pore on his face, and the fear etched in every one of them. "Now I'm going to kill you." The gun went off again, but Cora easily deflected it, shoving Emma back against the wall. Pest.
"Please, I'll do anything, just don't kill me," the man begged. Cora sneered, and plunged her hand into his chest. She grasped the beating heart, and the thrill was just as she remembered. The man gasped in pain, and she released him, squeezing the glowing red heart. He doubled over, grasping at his chest.
"Cora, stop!" Emma shouted, picking herself up off the floor and rushing over, but it was too late. The heart was dust in Cora's hand, and Greg Mendel fell over, dead. Blood pounded in Cora's ears, her vision still red with rage. It wasn't enough. Killing him wasn't enough. She conjured another fireball, preparing to unleash her wrath upon him, but then someone grabbed her arm.
"Enough!" Cora glared at Emma, and struggled to escape her grip. "This isn't helping Regina!" Cora blinked, and the fire dimmed. Breathing heavily, she turned back towards that awful metal table where her daughter lay. Her knees went weak at the sight, as terrible as before, and she collapsed under the sheer weight of emotion, held up only by Emma's arms.
"Easy now," Emma grunted, pulling her back to her feet. Cora gripped her head, she felt dizzy. But it didn't matter, all she cared about was Regina. Regina, who seemed so small…so weak. Her breathing was shallow, and fear came back, sharper than anything else. But it gave Cora strength. She pushed Emma away, stepping over to her daughter. With a gentleness she'd not possessed before, she pulled the wires away from Regina's skin and undid the straps tying her down. Her hands shook, which made the task more difficult, and her eyes watered with unwanted tears.
"Regina…" she whispered, brushing the sweat-soaked hair out of her daughter's face, away from the burns. They were even worse than she'd first thought. The skin was blistered and peeling, a sickly yellow tinged with splotchy red.
Cora swiped at her eyes angrily. She couldn't be bothered by that just now, she had to get Regina out of this hell-hole. Taking great care not to aggravate her daughter's injuries, she lifted Regina off the table and into her arms. It was not an easy task, and her legs still trembled slightly.
"Can you take her?" Emma asked. Cora nodded, unable to look away from Regina's deathly face. "Then I'm going to find Mary Margaret."
"Fine," Cora croaked. She couldn't care less where Emma went. Summoning up what remained of her strength, she vanished, leaving the terrible warehouse behind.
Hours passed. It was nearly sunset.
Cora mopped Regina's forehead with a wet washcloth, pressing gently against where the burns had been in an attempt to soothe them. She had done her best to heal them, but that sort of magic had never been her specialty. Though she'd managed to mend the broken skin and heal the blisters, the burns were still an angry red, and hot to the touch.
They were everywhere. They peppered Regina's arms and hands as well as the two on her head. The sick bastard had clearly inflicted as much pain as possible. Cora could still feel the heated anger licking at her insides, but forced it down. Far more palpable than anger was fear, fear that she might never see her daughter's eyes again.
Regina hadn't awakened, not even for a moment, though her breathing had become easier since Cora had removed the cuff she had found on Regina's arm. She had noticed it upon their return, and with a pang of guilt had realized that it had once belonged to her. It was the same cuff she had enchanted to climb the beanstalk, the one Hook had stolen. It now had been tainted to stop Regina from using her magic to escape.
But it was gone now, disintegrated, and Regina seemed to be getting some of her strength back. The color had slowly returned to her face, and as she slept Cora noticed the shadows under her eyes were lightening. She hoped that meant Regina would recover, but then, hope seemed just as dangerous an emotion as love.
She dipped the rag back into the bowl of cool water on the bedside table, this time dabbing softly at Regina's neck to cool the skin. Regina seemed to be running something of a fever, or perhaps it was just the after effects of all the electricity. It worried Cora nonetheless. She still feared Regina could die, and she would not relax until Regina had regained consciousness.
Cora sat back in her chair, laying the rag next to the bowl. She had never known this sort of weariness, not even after her mother had died and left her to do most of the work on her useless father's mill. She closed her eyes and sighed deeply. What an emotion love could be. Terrible in all its wonder. She knew still why she had ripped her heart out. In truth, it was tempting to do so again.
She heard a low little moan coming from the bed. Cora's eyes flew open. She bit back a cry of relief, and grasped Regina's hand in her own.
"Regina? Regina my love?" she murmured. Regina's eyes fluttered, not quite opening.
"Hurts…" she rasped. Cora brushed her thumb across Regina's knuckles, tears welling up in her eyes.
"I know," she said as a tear fell. "I know." Regina cracked her eyes open a slit. The daylight must have been painful, as she squeezed them shut again.
"Mama," she mumbled weakly. "You…you came." Cora choked back a sob.
"Yes," she whispered tearfully. "You're safe now, darling." Regina blinked rapidly, opening her eyes again. Regina's hand clasped hers more tightly, though her grip was faint.
"M'alright Mama," she slurred. "Don't cry." Cora bit down hard on her lip. Regina had nearly died, and here she was trying to give Cora reassurance. Cora brought Regina's hand to her mouth, kissing it.
"I thought I'd lost you." Regina gave the smallest of smiles, looking just a little more like herself.
"That fool…couldn't kill me," she said. Cora wasn't sure if the noise that came out of her mouth was a laugh or a sob, but either way the tears continued to stream down her face. She released Regina's hand, wiping her eyes.
"You should rest some more, my love," she said, reaching to tuck the blankets more closely around Regina's shoulders. "You've been so strong." Regina smiled again, appearing comfortable for the first time since they'd arrived back home.
"What happened…to Greg?" she asked. Cora frowned, resting her hands on Regina's shoulders.
"He didn't survive," was all she said, skirting around the truth. She felt no remorse for killing him, and would have done the same ten times over if necessary, but Regina didn't need to know that. Not now.
"Is…Henry…Henry all right?" Regina asked, her eyes closing against her will. Cora nodded, smoothing away the hair that had fallen in front of Regina's eyes.
"Yes, Henry's fine. He's with Emma," she said. Regina gave a slight nod.
"S'good," she said, her voice already thick with sleep. "M'glad." Cora caressed Regina's cheek momentarily. Her lower lip trembled with barely held-back sobs.
"Sleep now, darling," she whispered, struggling to maintain a grip on her emotions.
Regina, for once, obeyed.
Cora was jolted out of sleep by the sound of the doorbell. She jumped, sitting bolt upright in her chair. She couldn't remember falling asleep…what time was it? What day was it? It looked like morning. Blearily she glanced at Regina on the bed, who still slept peacefully.
The doorbell rang again. Cora sighed heavily, slowly getting to her feet. She shrugged off how disoriented she felt, making her way down the long flight of stairs. Normally she appreciated Regina's sense of grandeur, but now it seemed a hindrance.
Speaking of hindrances, it was Snow White at the door.
"What are you doing here?" Cora asked curtly, biting back a yawn. Snow shuffled on her feet nervously.
"Henry…he wanted to see Regina," she said, and stepped back to reveal the boy standing behind her. Cora immediately softened.
"Of course," she said, opening the door more widely. "Of course, come in."
"Is…is my mom okay?" Henry asked, fiddling with the fringe of his scarf. "Can I see her?" Cora glanced upstairs.
"She's asleep right now, dear boy," she said, placing a hand on his shoulder. She was pleased to see Henry did not flinch, she'd half expected him to. He had received her well enough at the diner (had that only been a week ago?) but she still worried he might fear her.
"But she's okay? Right?" Henry asked again, his eyes pleading. Cora smiled in what she hoped was a reassuring fashion, and nodded.
"Yes. She just needs rest," she said. She looked up at Snow then, and sheer dislike coursed through her. But still there was the guilt. Even so, she knew she couldn't turn her away, not if she wanted Henry to stay here.
"Would you like to sit down?" she said with forced politeness. "I could make tea." Snow looked as uncomfortable with that as Cora felt, but Henry nodded eagerly and made himself at home on the couch.
"Hot chocolate please," he said. "With cinnamon on the top!" Cora couldn't begin to fathom as to what that meant. She had never before heard of a chocolate drink, Regina had never mentioned such a thing. She stepped into the kitchen, and Snow followed.
"Do you know what he is talking about?" Cora asked through gritted teeth, pulling three mugs down from a cupboard. Snow smiled.
"Yes, I'm sure Regina keeps some around here," she said. Cora grunted noncommittally, and let Snow take over with the strange chocolate drink, while she prepared tea for herself and the annoyingly helpful snowflake.
"So…is Regina really all right?" Snow asked from her place by the microwave. Cora caught her eye, startled.
"You truly care?" Snow shrugged, and nodded.
"She saved my life…she was my step-mother. Of course I care," she replied, turning the microwave on. Cora was flabbergasted. She had been under the impression that Snow White hated Regina, just as Regina hated Snow. She felt strangely touched on Regina's behalf.
But then she remembered that it had been she who had orchestrated the entire meeting between Snow and her daughter, and that the girl wouldn't have needed a step-mother at all if it hadn't been for Cora's interference. She hated this guilt, it seemed so pointless. She didn't even remotely like Snow. She never had. She sighed, placing Regina's copper tea kettle down on the stove. She clicked it on. Her thoughts turned back to the upstairs bedroom.
"Regina seems to be recovering, yes. She's still very weak," she said, her grief and exhaustion threatening to crush her. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of it all. She could feel Snow's eyes on her back.
"You look like hell," Snow said quietly. Cora scoffed.
"You would too, if it had been your daughter instead of mine," she retorted. Snow gave a pitying smile. Cora bristled, but swallowed the sharp comment on her tongue. She loathed pity, and always had. However, it would do her no good to anger Snow now.
"You're right. I wouldn't leave Emma's side," Snow said as the microwave beeped. "And you haven't left Regina until now, have you?" Cora shook her head, watching as Snow stirred the strange brown powder into the hot water. She wanted to remember how to make it, in case Henry ever came over to visit them.
"Have you slept at all?" Snow asked.
"Briefly." Cora wondered why exactly the girl cared at all about her wellbeing. Was it all for Henry's sake? For Regina's? She had been under the distinct impression that they were enemies. But perhaps that, like everything else, had changed the day her heart had been returned to her. Cora could make little sense out of Snow's behavior, and frankly her head was spinning far too much already from having been jerked awake so rudely.
Still, the moment of peace between the two women was a welcome change from the animosity of before.
Henry wandered into the kitchen just then, lured in by the smell of the hot chocolate. He sat at the counter in what Cora assumed must have been his customary place. He seemed so certain of himself in this house, more certain than even Regina. Snow placed the hot chocolate in front him, sprinkling the cinnamon on top as she did so.
"Here you go, Henry," she said, sitting on the stool next to his.
"Thanks," he replied, sipping at it delicately. The kettle hissed, indicating the water had come to a boil. Immediately Cora set herself to preparing the tea, lost in her thoughts and the many confusing emotions she couldn't quite figure out. It seemed far too much for one person to bear, all these feelings at one time. Just how did people manage living with their hearts?
Gods she was tired.
"Here," she said after a moment of awkward silence, setting the mug of tea next to Snow. She leaned back against the countertop, sipping at her own drink quietly. She tried not to ruminate about the previous day's events.
"So…" Henry said, looking up at Cora, "when do you think my mom will wake up?" So much for not ruminating.
"I really don't know," she sighed, turning her gaze upwards. She should still be there at her daughter's bedside, not entertaining guests.
"What…what exactly happened to her?" Henry asked uncertainly. "My other mom won't tell me."
"She's protecting you, Henry," Snow said, touching his arm.
"From what? Why can't I know? I'm not a little kid, I'm eleven!" He crossed his arms, pouting. Cora stared into her drink, wishing she could be amused by her grandson's antics, but instead all she saw was Regina, Regina's deathly pale face, the burns, the way she had convulsed as she was shocked, screaming…
She shook her head.
"Some bad people hurt her, Henry," Snow said softly. Cora's hand twitched on her mug; the desire to throw it against the wall grew hard to resist. Bad people indeed.
"But how? Why?" he persisted, growing aggravated. "There's more to it, I know there is!" A lump rose in Cora's throat. Yes, there was more, there was so much more. She found she couldn't speak just then, even if she'd wanted to.
"They…they said they wanted to get rid of magic," Snow said, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. A preposterous goal. How ironic that it was magic that had killed Greg Mendel. Cora relished in that, at least. But the woman had gotten away. She gripped her cup until her knuckles were white.
"What? How? You're still not telling me everything!" Henry cried, frustrated.
"They tortured her," Cora whispered, still staring into the brown liquid. She could feel two sets of horrified eyes boring into her, but did not meet them. "For hours. I couldn't protect her." The lump in her throat threatened to choke her. Her vision blurred.
She heard the scraping of one of the stools against the hardwood floor, and footsteps as one of the two strode towards her, she couldn't tell which. She sniffed, unsuccessfully blinking back the unwelcome tears. She hated how much of a sap she was becoming, but then, her daughter had been tortured. Even without her heart that would have affected her.
"Grandma, are you okay?" came Henry's small voice.
Grandma.
Grandma.
Cora nearly dropped her mug in shock. The tears she'd been holding back now fell freely. She was touched beyond words. She had never expected him to address her as his grandmother. She met Henry's eyes- his expression seemed genuine.
He was concerned about her. With shaking hands, she set her drink down on the counter. She struggled to regain her composure, not sure if she could even begin to answer Henry's question. Was she okay? Not in the slightest. Yet, she felt warmth flooding through her at Henry's display of empathy. It was all too much, and not enough.
Snow cleared her throat, and quietly suggested that someone should go check on Regina. Cora shook herself, and gave Snow a semi-grateful glance.
"Yes, of course," she said, her voice still choked with tears. She hastened out of the room, wiping her eyes as she went.
"Henry, why don't you go with her," Snow said. Cora stopped short, turning to face her once-enemy.
"You trust me alone with him?" she asked, dumbfounded. Snow smiled softly.
"You're different now," she said, "you have your heart." Cora glanced down at her chest where the frightful organ beat. She had the sudden desire to tear it back out, until she remembered Regina. She took a deep breath.
"Well? Are you coming?" she asked Henry, who grinned and followed her out of the room.
Henry grew more and more uneasy as they ascended the large stairwell. Cora wondered if that was because he was with her, or if he was afraid for Regina. She wished desperately that she had been able to know him better, to have been there when he was small. He might have trusted her then. But as it was she was a stranger to him, and he to her.
Yet he had called her "Grandma."
"Is my mom in there?" Henry asked once they reached the landing. He pointed towards the closed door of Regina's bedroom. Cora nodded.
"Yes, she is," she said, lightly knocking on the door.
"Regina my love?" she called softly. "Are you awake? There's someone here to see you." A quiet moan came from the other side. Cora nodded at Henry.
"Go on in, but be gentle- she's still hurt," she warned, opening the door to let Henry in. He bolted to his mother's bedside, stopping short at the sight of her.
"Mom?" he asked timidly, touching her hand. Regina slowly moved to sit upright, wincing as she did so.
"Henry," she croaked, throwing her arms around her son. The look of love and relief on her face blind-sided Cora. She had never seen Regina look that way. Certainly never at her. But still Cora smiled, pushing aside her own feelings. They didn't matter. Only Regina mattered, Regina and Henry. She crossed the room to her daughter's side, and touched Regina's shoulder gently.
"How are you feeling?"
"Better now." Regina smiled, releasing Henry from their embrace. She looked up at Cora. "Thank you." Cora sat next to Regina.
"For what, sweetie?"
"Bringing him here. For saving my life." Cora squeezed Regina's hand tightly. She couldn't trust herself to speak just then. For the first time, she truly felt she was part of a family, with her daughter and grandson. She hated with all her heart what those imbeciles had done to Regina, but found herself happy that they were all here now, together as the family they should have been all this time.
Wistfully she was reminded of Rumpelstiltskin, and the deal they had once made. She found she missed him, even now, and regretted her choice all the more.
She wouldn't trade Regina for the world, however, and she was worth all the suffering and foolish mistakes Cora had made.
Cora let go of her daughter's hand, content in the knowledge that Regina would be all right. Henry seated himself between the two women, and Regina gingerly placed an arm around his shoulder. Henry leaned into her side, closing his eyes. Regina smiled softly, then looked up at Cora, holding out her other arm. Cora accepted it, and found herself entangled in the embrace of her daughter and grandson. She felt a great surge of love in her heart, the emotion finally feeling familiar.
It was more than enough.