Regina focuses on Roland as Robin tries to coax Marian from the depths of her slumber. She clicks off the monitors he will no longer need, works with every ounce of care she can muster to peel back the tape on his skin and ease the IV line free, then presses a bandage in its place. He wakes, and she is not surprised, but he sees her smiling over him, and despite his blatant misery, he manages a weak smile for her in return.
"I'm sick," he croaks, and then he is coughing and coughing, like the breath it took to speak was too much for his lungs to handle, and Regina gathers him up into her arms and rubs his back and shushes and rocks.
"Not for long," she assures him, when the coughing stills. She brushes his hair back from his brow, and notes he is feverish, and he looks up at her with those big, dark eyes, and she says, quietly, like it's a very special secret between them, "I'm here to make you better."
She winks, and he smiles, and then it melts away into something miserable and he curls against her chest, nuzzles his head into her and shuts his eyes. She hears a quiet, "'Kay..." from him, and smiles. He's such a sweet little boy. The decision to heal him had been an easy one. A no-brainer, not even a question that she would come here and do this for him. For his father.
She looks up at Robin and he has tipped the head of Marian's bed up just a little, just enough, and the other woman is looking at her with dark, glassy eyes and a soft frown.
"You'll really heal him?" Marian asks her, and her voice is thin and weak.
Regina nods, and rises, adjusting Roland in her grip as she moves to sit on the edge of Marian's bed, Robin shifting backward to make room for her.
"Why-" Marian draws a breath, lets it out on a cough, and it is all weak and full of effort. "Why would you do that?"
Ever skeptical, Regina muses, although she can't blame the woman she paraded around for leverage in her pursuit of Snow White for being suspicious of her motives. Regina looks at Robin, who has a grip on Marian's ankle over the blankets, and answers, "Because it's the right thing to do," when they all know what she really means is because I'm in love with your husband. But there's no use in lending voice to that, because it changes nothing. She is here, and Roland is ill, and she will mend him, and that is that.
"When has the right thing ever mattered to-" Marian gets no further before Robin cuts her off with a scolding murmur of her name and Regina lets it roll off her. She's not here to make friends, she's here for Roland.
He coughs in her arms again, then cuddles in tighter, and tells her quietly, his damaged voice hard to hear, "Mama is sick, too. Will you make her better like me?"
For a moment, Regina actually wishes she could. As much as she wants Robin, as much as she would love to see Marian far, far away from everything she holds dear, she wishes she could tell Roland that yes, of course, her power is limitless in its ability to set his world right, and she will heal anyone he wishes. But her power is not limitless, and the magic she has tucked into her pocket is very specific, and she has the strength and tools to heal only one of them.
So she tells him, "No, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I can't," and she does not miss the way that Marian watches her with suspicious eyes. "The magic I have isn't for grown-ups. It will only work on you."
He says oh, and sucks in a shallow breath, and coughs again, and shuts his eyes. She's not sure if the answer she's given is enough for him, or if his exhaustion has simply overwhelmed his curiosity.
"So that's it, then," Marian murmurs, her voice labored, and it seems she has accepted her fate, and Regina knows that acceptance of death is the surest way to see that it takes you, and Robin must know that too, because he says his wife's name, and no, and the doctor says you may yet recover, and Regina watches them, husband and wife, lying to each other, and she thinks that she doesn't belong here, in this room, in this marriage, holding their child while death looms heavy over them. And she thinks of earlier, of Henry, of Mario Kart and lasagna and his legs that are so long, and his voice that is changing, and she imagines herself in Marian's place, watching someone else clutch her boy and knowing that she will likely never see him grow into the person he will become, and it reminds her - suddenly - of standing near the Storybrooke town line with a curse billowing behind her, watching Henry and Emma drive off and knowing with absolute certainty that she would never know her boy another day older than he was right then. She remembers the inevitability of her fate, and the forced stoicism for her son's sake, and the terrible, suffocating feeling of loss. She thinks that maybe they're not that different, she and Marian, and for a moment she debates telling her so, but this isn't about her, and she's not sure it's her place, so she stays silent.
There's a look exchanged between the three adults, and it's clear that someone needs to explain all of this to Roland, but Marian is too weak and Robin is looking at her with his mouth half opened like he cannot find the words to tell his son that he will once again lose his mother, and Regina knows the task will fall to her.
She shifts Roland on her lap, tips his chin up so he is looking at her again.
"Roland, I'm going to make you better," she explains, "but after I do, we have to make sure you don't get sick again. So you can't stay here in the hospital with your mama and papa. You're going to stay with Henry and Emma for a few days, okay?"
He nods and says okay, and then breaks her heart a little when he asks, "But then I get to see them again?"
She strokes his hair again, and forces a smile, and says, "You'll see your papa again, very soon. But..." Regina searches for the words, stares into that sweet, sweet face, and finally finds them, hopes they'll be enough. "Do you remember when we met and you told me that your mama was with the angels?" Roland nods. "And you told me how she was helping to watch over people, how that's what your papa always told you?" He nods, again. "Well, your mama is very smart and strong and wonderful, and she was so good at watching over people that the angels might her need to come back and help again."
"Oh," he says, and she watches him process this, as best as he can, which is not very well, and he frowns and asks her, "But then she'll come back again?" And Regina feels a sharp pang of sympathetic loss, and there are tears in her eyes, and she can hear Robin let out a ragged breath behind her.
She strokes Roland's hair back again, and it falls into his face again, as always, and she swallows down the pain, and says, "No, sweetheart, this time I don't think she will. The angels only let you visit once, and even then only if you're very special."
"Mama's very special," Roland tells her with a nod and then he coughs, coughs again, wet and phlegmy, and the movement of her hands over his back is automatic, a mother's touch, and she hums her agreement, and says that yes, his mama is, and she supposes Marian must be, because Robin loves her so, but she has spent more time in her presence tonight than she has since she held her captive all those years ago, so she really has no idea.
"Regina?" He asks curiously, and she rocks and rocks and makes a noise of acknowledgement. "If Mama goes with the angels, will they make her better?"
She smiles, and tells him they will, of course they will, they will make her strong again, and then she decides she's taken enough of Marian's time with him, and so she tells him, "But since you can't be with her once you're better, you need to give her a good cuddle right now. Just in case, okay?"
He agrees, and she passes him over to Marian who is looking at Regina like she's never seen her before, like she is something strange and new. Roland curls against his mother's side, and Regina stands and turns to Robin, and he reaches out, squeezes her hand and murmurs his thanks.
She nods, and tells him she'll be in the hall when they're ready for her, and she can feel him watch her the whole way to the door.
Tinkerbell is waiting for her, leaning against the wall, and Regina steps next to her, mirrors her pose and lets out a sigh, dropping her head back against the wall.
"How's it going in there?" the fairy asks her, and Regina just shakes her head, closes her eyes.
When words come, they're weary and quiet: "It'll be over soon." She's not sure if she means the task she came here for, or Marian's life, or both.
She hears Tink sigh, but for once she doesn't say anything else, and Regina is grateful.
