Disclaimer : any characters or recognizable characters belong to Once Upon A Time, I'm merely borrowing them to dance to my own will.
AN: thank you all for the reviews! They made my week. Well I'm going back to work and I have many boring tasks to get done. So here's the next chapter and I won't be able to post anything until next week, but fear not! I will write while I'm away. Thank you again :)
Dear Henry,
Realizing your evil isn't quite as surprising as it may sound. It's sort of like remembering you left cupcakes in the oven and as you take it out, you leave the gas on. So then you curse yourself and stomp your foot. Very well much looking evil and frustrated, although now one knows what for. So they simply slap a title on you. Whether it be, "whiny brat," "hormonal bitch," and even, "evil queen."
Did you know some people wouldn't even consider themselves, "evil"?
Well I didn't until I put myself into the situation with others. I always thought everyone was gray and not pragmatically white and black. The citizens of Storybrooke would have quite a debate about that. Whether or not if I'm truly evil. Despite how they treated me, I wonder, in this coffee shop in Hartford, how everyone is. Is Ruby still dressing irregularly to code? Is ol' granny still yelling at her? I know it's only been a week not much will have changed, but I do wonder. Change, you see my love, is tangible and quick.
But mostly my little prince, I wonder about you. If you've noticed my absence yet. I still battle the urge to go back and throw myself into your (perhaps, maybe, no?) awaiting arms. Or maybe you're sitting at that god awful thing that Snow says is a table, eating (hopefully) spinach and nicely cooked meat. With, I suppose, a cookie. I'm still worried about your eating habits.
Hartford, is well... Quaint. It's huge, I've walked around, always bumping into people. I found a pond shop, unlike Rumples, because the owner was simply too nice and accommodating, that sells older cameras. I cannot remember the name, but it was filled with the smell of film and dust and clean carpets. I suppose that's what compelled me further into the shop, the clean smell it provided.
And there it was.
A 2002 Polaroid camera. Complete with sets of film and a flash. I remember owning one and taking millions of pictures of you. Remember that? Sitting on the hill above Storybrooke and taking pictures. You'd laugh and say," I want to take one momma."
I'd say, "of course."
And hand you the camera, your tiny fingers struggled for a moment, then you'd snap a shot too quickly of the sea. So quickly that the picture comes out oneiric from the waves and fulgent lighting.
You would be upset because you couldn't do it right, and sit there pouting. You always did have a proclivity to be upset to the best of your abilities. I suppose that's why you clung so adamantly to me being the evil queen.
Anyway, I then told you, "see how wonderful you are? You're creating new and spiraling lands with a camera!"
Your visage of a child with chubby cheeks and a wide grin, would practically glow as you said, "yeah!"
I bought it. And the film too. I'm going to create my own lands Henry. Lands that exist but through my view with this camera. I'll tape it within this journal.
Love mom
She snapped a shot of Jojos coffee and tea shop.
Then she looked over and saw a woman with bright purple hair walking her way.
"Excuse me?"
"Yes?" Regina straightened and handled herself with aplomb-as opposed to this violet haired woman with sagging shoulders.
"Are you the one selling the Mercedes Benz? The man at the shop told me to talk to you." She looked sheepish and young.
Regina analogized this woman to be a late adolescent and tried loosening her poise, "oh, yes. I am."
She gave her best mayoral smile, looking ever as regal in slacks and her long black jacket.
The woman with purple hair held out her hand and smiles almost genuinely, "well,"
She speaks with an accent, Regina finally noticed.
A southern accent, "my names Lucinda," her hand hung in the air as Regina fought the urge to cringe.
Lucinda kept her hand out until, reluctantly, she grasped this strange woman's hand, "Regina."
Dear Henry,
I met a purple haired woman named Lucinda. She was rather nice. Buying me a cup of coffee at Jojos, while discussing buying the Benz. I felt that, if perhaps, you and Emma were looking (fools dream), you'd try to track it down. So Lucinda, she's so enthusiastic I might add, much too happy for her own sake... She jabbered on why she wanted it quite covetously.
I began to grow an animosity towards her, her stupid purple hair and glowing blue eyes clashing with a dark green jacket masking a bright orange shirt. I felt stuck in a horrid scene of a child's painting. A child that has recently discovered colors and how they mash together amusingly.
"Ah! I'd love love LOVE to drive out in the open road and-"I must have trekked off deep into the cerebellum of my brain, because then I don't remember much else she said. We spent the afternoon trading off my car for cash up front from her. It was quite simple.
Although once that was finished, I quickly hopped on a bus. Both (if you're looking) you and Emma would pick up on the sale soon enough. My identity here is still in place, Regina Mills, former mayor of a small town. Next stop, New Haven.
There's so many stops to go before I can get to any of our destinations. That is, without raising any clues as to my where-abouts, and taking a plane is much too risky, you'd find out faster than I could land.
Love mom.
P.S. - I never thought I'd take a bus. There's not much people here, BUT there is annoying people. It's like all the annoying people within walking distance of the bus station decided to go on this one bus. Some woman takes singing along to radio much too seriously. Forgive me Henry, I may have been rude. Here is our conversation.
"Excuse me," I said.
"Yes?" She replied in a voice much too perky and high.
"Who sings this song?" I offer a smile.
"Well Taylor Swift." She smiles and turns her head, she says this in a "duh" voice. As if I should already know.
That only provoked my intention further, "well let's keep it that way."
Past
She could hear it. The cries and wails of resentful children on the island. The others didn't seem bothered, so she never said anything nor gave indication she could hear them. Their pain. Regina wondered if Henry was a part of the Neverland magic that cried for help.
No.
Not Henry. Not her little prince. He held gumption dogma firmly in his delicate head. He believes her and Emma will save him. And Regina let the crying lost boys' voices echo in her head as a lullaby.
"Regina?"
Of course.
Sighing she lifted herself up scrunching her face in disdain, "what is it Ms. Swan?"
"Well..." She wanted to mention him, Peter Pan
"Can I sleep by you?" Well that didn't go quite as planned.
"What?"
"Sleep." Then seemingly as an afterthought, "with you? I mean just as...friends? Well, no. I just... Can't sleep. Not here."
Regina bit the insides of her cheek, "come along Ms. Swan..."
She laid down and motioned for the blonde to do the same.
Emmas arms wound and coiled around Regina's waist,"Ms...Emma?"
She said it more firmly, as if to say, "no-We're-not-supposed-to-do-that-It's-not-allowed-In-the-cabin-on-the-ship-it-was-okay-Not-here." Into one word, her name. She said it as a warning, "Emma..."
But Emma held, "it's kind of romantic, dontcha think? There's the ocean and trees so thick you can't see the stairs? No pesky night-light."
She smiled against Regina's neck, and the brunette stiffened, "we're not honeymooning at an auberge."
Emma grinned and Regina felt it against her skin, "you always say such interesting things..."
Regina shifted so she's face to face with Emma, "no Ms. Swan."
But Emma was always obstreperous, so she closed her eyes and let out a content sigh, "thank you Regina."
She meant for letting her sleep by her, but Regina felt it may mean so much more-either way, she scooted up, and let Emma place her head in the crook where her chest met her neck. They fit like a puzzle.
Present
It's been about a week.
A week and Emma walks through the dilapidated apartment. Hearing the creaks of the floorboard underneath her boots. Henry bounded down the stairs.
"Hey Emma?"
Emma looked up from her stupor, "hmm?"
"Can we go by my mom's? I-erm...I just need more clothes."
"Oh! Yeah, sure. When?" Emma tried hard not to sound too jumpy or excited, she hasn't seen her in a while.
In fact, her stomach did small tumbles as she thought of the radiant brunette woman with caramel eyes that held secrets.
Henry shrugged and gave little thought as he reached the floor beneath the last stair, "today? Or now. Now would be preferable. I kinda need it for the new season of school. Mom said she bought me new clothes. Something about...lanky legs?"
Emma smiled, "yeah, you are getting pretty lanky..."
Henry snorted, "not until I can reach the cereal above the fridge."
"Common." They both donned their jackets and bounced down the stairs to the yellow buggy.
Although both won't admit, they've missed her; Regina. Henry, for the reason that she's his mother. Emma, well...that's a bit more complicated.
"So how's everything with Neal?"
"It's great!" Henry's aureole visage seemed to seep and turn inward into Emma's growing invidious feelings towards Neal.
She's starting to understand why Regina had done the things she's done. The green monster in the pit of Emma's stomach, told her Neal didn't deserve half the affection Henry had shown him. But she supposes it's only right. If Regina can give Henry room for a week, then perhaps she can too while he bonds with his dad.
As they pulled up to the mansion, it struck an invisible chord. Something was off. Entirely too off. It was quiet. Not the someone-is-here-but-refuses-to-answer-the-door-so-the-son-has-to-frustratingly-search-for-the-spare-keys-in-the-bushes-quiet. But rather a stagnant quiet that bounces off in waves of silence.
Ignorance is bliss, right? Well as Emma and Henry walked through the foyer, footsteps reverberating off the polished wood, Emma asked, "Henry? How long has it been since Regina talked to you?"