Chapter Two – Henry
After speaking with Jax about her conversation with Emma, Regina realized she never gave herself nor Emma the closure they needed. She also realized with trepidation she needed to see Henry, once and for all.
During the two hour drive from Storybrooke to the mental institution, in Portland, Regina looked at some photos of Henry when he was a child before all the unpleasantness. He was a sweet boy, curious and loving, she recalled with a sad smile.
It all changed when his curiosity drove him to discover he was adopted. Regina didn't keep it as a big secret she just never broached the subject because for her it didn't matter: Henry was her son from the follicles of his scalp to his toes.
He was angry that he was never told but he was most angry that he was given away and not kept by his birth mother. He seemed impatient and angry at everyone. Regina realized that's why she told the children all about her past and Emma's role in it, she didn't want to repeat the mistakes she made with Henry.
But she did, being brutally honest with herself. Keeping the secret of the twins from Emma was damaging to Emma.
She also realized her future self was correct when she acknowledged leaving Emma behind was a way to stop hurting her. She damaged Emma as a child and damaged her again as an adult. It had to stop! Regina realized the moment she gave Jax a chance that she was trying to give Emma one too.
She looked at the profile of Jax's face as reveled in the comfort that she chose him not that he was chosen for her by fate or insipid tattoos. She didn't realize Emma wasn't afforded that same luxury in her absence.
I didn't want to know one way or the other. She admitted to herself.
Being brutally honest again, a part of her wanted to punish Emma for her abandonment, wanted her to feel the pain that she felt. It was painful to her when Emma was not emotionally available for her while she was grieving the loss of her mother navigating the manipulations of Snow's selfishness. She didn't realize Emma had no way to escape like she did.
After Henry hurt her, Regina was surprised that so many people she never thought gave her any notice, cared so deeply about her and for her. She didn't realize Emma didn't have anyone but herself.
She had hoped her future self would have been able to help Emma but stubbornly Emma refused that help. Coming to see Henry was her small way of acknowledging the turmoil and darkness Emma had gone through alone: a small way to shed a bit of light for Emma's sake.
– – –
They were taken to a large white room, it seemed like a recreational room with the metal tables and chairs welded to the floor. There were three armed correctional guards in the room with her and Jax while they waited for the orderlies to escort Henry to visit with them.
Regina was beyond nervous, which was absurd since her magic fully returned to her after her future self disappeared and Emma began whatever the hell she had become: neither she nor Jax liked to consider all they had witness so many years ago. They both attributed it to flights of fancy–yet her magic returned outside the boundaries of Storybrooke.
Her magic returned and she could protect herself. She could protect herself at a level that would make Jax nervous so she kept her magic benign, like her twin daughters. Yet she knew if Henry tried anything dangerous she would and could finish it once and for all.
She stood beside Jax too nervous to sit as they waited.
Then she saw him: Henry was thinner that she remembered. He lost the musculature he had built up when he kidnapped the girls. He wore a stark white t-shirt and light blue worn jeans. Sitting in a wheelchair, he didn't wear shoes, his feet covered by dark socks as he was wheeled silently into the room. He was so much older than she remembered. His face was slack, emotionless. His dark hair thinning as baldness emerged along with a few strands of gray.
He looked at her, through her as his wheelchair was pushed towards the table. She and Jax sat down on the opposite side.
He sighed.
"Henry?" She spoke as a question because she wasn't certain who this disturbed man was.
He jumped when she spoke at him, his eyes widened. Then he looked around for a way to escape.
"Settle down Mills. We don't want to get the restraints again, do we?" One of the guard cautioned.
Henry struggled to settled his breath as he closed his eyes. When he opened them again he saw her and the strange man. The man didn't seem dangerous so he stared off into space again.
"Henry, if you want me to leave, I will." Regina suggested quietly.
He looked at her again shocked then spoke, "You never speak to me!"
"I know I haven't seen you in a long time…" Regina began before he interrupted her again.
"You're always here, Mom. That's my punishment. To always see you. You just never speak. I thought It was because dead people can't speak." Henry dismissed whatever this specter of his mother was trying to say.
"You think… I'm dead?" Regina asked, mortified by his answer.
"Of course you're dead! I killed you!" Henry shouted. Then he hit himself hard in his head with both his fists over and over again.
"What happens if we self harm, Mills?" The same Officer cautioned cryptically.
He immediately stopped hitting himself and leaned forward, "I meant when I was tricked into killing you. I really wish I hadn't done that. But wishes aren't real." He whispered conspiratorially. "With you dead everything fell apart, even Emma. She fell into many, many parts. They are many of her now, you know. She's everywhere at the same time, so be careful. She knows everything. She can hear thoughts, even thoughts of dead people."
He looked around the room searching for one of the many Emmas he had encountered.
He looked back at the specter of his Mother who began to sob, "Don't worry Mom. She can't hurt you, you're dead. I sometimes wish I could be dead with you but she won't let me. We aren't allowed to self harm here. It's forbidden, you know. We have to be good all the time even when the other thoughts… especially after snack time."
Regina sobbed inconsolably as Jax comforted her. She didn't realize exactly what Emma had to deal with and how lost Henry was: her boy was truly gone.
– – –
Henry didn't react to her crying. He rocked to comfort himself and stared at his favorite wall the one that had no imperfections in it: no cracks, no dimples. It was the sort of wall his Mom would insist upon when any room in their home was being repainted.
He thought of his home, his room, his comic books… one of those Emmas came bay tried to give him comic book to read but he didn't understand it. The last comic book he read, Superman died now in the newer book he was alive again? He made him angry that Superman could have a second chance but he and his mother couldn't. He hated all books never wanting to read anything ever again.
– – –
When Regina composed herself she spoke, "Henry I have to tell you something important. I hope you understand."
Henry continued to stare at the perfection of the wall, wishing to possess its perfection for himself.
Regina continued, "Your grandparents, Snow and Charming. They passed away." She winced at the euphemism and restated the news, feeling the weight of the words lift as soon as she spoke them, "They died. They were buried earlier today."
Henry heard something important so he shifted from the wall of perfection to the ghost of his dead mother. She rarely spoke so he thought it best to listen to what it was she had to say.
She repeated herself when she finally held his eyes, "Your grandparents, Snow and Charming died. They were buried earlier today."
"Good." He replied when he realized she was giving him news from the world of the dead.
He closed his eyes as he spoke, "Mom, everyday they spoke about getting rid of you for the good of everyone, especially Emma. Every damn day!"
"Language young man!" He spoke mimicking how he remembered his mother admonishing both him and Emma's loose language.
"That wasn't fair. I'm glad they're dead. They were… hypocrites." Henry whispered before he promptly drifted off to sleep, content that dead mothers can sometimes speak from beyond the grave and the perfection of walls can be a symbol to anyone seeking to improve themselves, along the same lines.
