"Zelena!" A stuttering, somewhat breathless laughter escaped Henry's mouth, and his face broke into a smile. "I should have expected you, shouldn't I? When there's trouble, you're rarely out of reach."
"I'm surprised it's not her who is the trouble," Ella remarked. She pushed herself off the tree she'd been leaning on and took a few steps closer to Henry—or, more likely, further away from his aunt—continuing, "I've been with her for about fifteen minutes, and I'm already more exhausted than I can ever remember being. Please tell me you're taking care of her from now on." Ella roughly shoved a hand through her hair and showed a slight smirk, taking the sting out of her words.
Zelena inclined her head. "For the girl you want to marry she's quite the softy," she teased, bending down to scratch dirt off the seam of her pistachio green cloak. She stared at her boots incredulously only to realize that their heels had sunken inches deep into the mud. Sighing, she casually leaned on Ella's shoulder to stabilize herself while freeing her unfortunate, modern-world shoes from the tasty downsides of a medieval one. "I think we'll need to train her properly before we can introduce her to the family members who have lost far more of their sanity than I have."
"Nah, I guess you're as bad as it's going to get," Henry grinned, but it soon shifted into a blankly horrified expression as Ella's laughter glided through the air, open and joyful. "The girl you're gonna marry?"
His cheeks flamed. "Want to," he murmured, and his eyes widened in shock, "I mean, no, not so quickly, we've barely even… I… oh, Goodness." He groaned, stepping up to a now upright Zelena and pulling her into a tight hug. "Zelena, Ella. Ella, Greenie."
"Ooh, I like that name," Ella laughed, and Henry's heart floated up the stars, dancing around in sparkling places he'd never seen before. "Although she did introduce herself a little… differently."
"I am the most amazing witchy aunt there is. Just ask anyone around, well, anywhere." Zelena defended herself, grinning. She then suddenly grew serious, her eyes still twinkling. "Though you're right. That girl's insane enough for us. Better than your boring blonde mother certainly." She nodded approvingly. "You have my blessings."
"The last thing I'd do is ask you for blessings. Not that I'd—I wouldn't think of marriage yet," Henry stammered, and he'd never been more enthusiastic about a threatening, eerie darkness that had overtaken them in the middle of the day, hiding the humiliated flush of his cheeks. "We haven't even… technically we haven't even told each other about our feelings yet. If, there were any."
"How come you're my nephew and that embarrassingly awkward around girls?" Zelena mocked, shaking her head once again, though her wet hair still wouldn't settle for anything but a cloud of bird's nest.
"Let's just skip that confessing part," Ella suggested, and both of them knew she was only half joking (wasn't that basically an admission? Henry wasn't sure, but he was sure as hell not going to ask). For a second, it was silent as both of them glanced at each other and then at the ground. Raindrops drummed a dark song on the surrounding landscape.
"As much as I love teasing the hell out of you lovey-dovey little monkeys—" Zelena's voice had changed all of a sudden, grown serious, her eyes fixated on Henry in a kind of questioningly intense way. Ella and his eyes locked, and in a silent agreement, they both reached out to grasp each other's hands. "How is Regina?"
Ella squeezed Henry's fingers, frowning upon his tormented expression. "She… she's fine."
"That bad, huh?"
He smiled a little, biting his lip. "Yeah. Like… evening before I left bad."
Zelena rolled her eyes, but even that familiar motion looked uncharacteristically sad. "You weren't supposed to know about that."
"And you weren't supposed to come here," he retorted. "I'm glad, though. I—I think she needs you right now." Thunder began to roar above them, drowning out the last two words. "Said you kept her—sane when I wasn't there. Thank you."
"She's my family, too."
"She is." Henry nodded, realizing just how much they had all grown fond of each other, just how much Zelena was a part of them. It was a curious thing, affection. Zelena and his mom had overcome each and every obstacle they had thrown at each other in previous times… They had come to a place of true sisterly love, and as cynical and reserved both of them could still at times be, watching Zelena's eyes soften so visibly at the mention of Regina's name was truly beautiful.
And soothing.
Why he'd thought leaving his mom alone in that storm at the edge of a cliff was a good idea, he didn't remember, but he did know that she was so much less than alone. Thunder shook the sky once again, and gentle panic began to rise in him. "You're here to be with Regina, right? There's no… other, bad news kind of reason?"
"I missed you. Both of you, indeed." Zelena snorted, but even that couldn't take the sincerity out of her words. "The Charmings just aren't as fun without a partner in crime to annoy them with. I—I also figured Regina might need someone today."
"You knew."
"About 'Emma the Great and Terrible Honor Day?' Of course I did." Zelena sighed. "But now, I need you to explain to me exactly where Regina is, what happened, and how much of a risk it is if you take too long telling me."
Regina was standing—barely standing, but she did her best to ignore her shivering body, telling her with bright red warning signs that the second she'd allow herself to, she'd break down—at the edge of the cliff once again. Her eyes were unseeing, focused on something inside that only she could perceive. The minute of Henry's departure, the darkness had seeped back, wind and rain encircling her, encouraging her to keep standing.
She understood now.
The amateur wizards or witches Tremaine had apparently hired didn't have control over the storm anymore. The torches that had been lighted outside of her manor had gone out now, too, and Regina was sure that Tremaine and her people were cowering in her house, scared of the monster they'd unleashed. They had intended to inflict chaos in order to disperse the resistance, and the forces of nature had delightedly done their part. There was no stopping a raw, wild, magical storm like this.
There was absorbing it, though.
Similar to soaking in the Darkness, just… more peacefully. Calmer, almost soothing, it would be.
Throwing oneself off the cliff, snuffing out the storm in free fall.
Regina was considering it like it was the decision of what to cook for dinner. Entirely rational, just looking at what might happen and who it would affect if she made this choice or that choice.
That was not the way, though.
Rationally? It seemed to make an awful lot of sense to stop that storm. She had long lost count, but she had lived about seven decades now; half an eternity.
Really, though? She knew it didn't make any sense at all. She didn't want to sacrifice herself now, and the storm wasn't even a very violent threat. It might die down sooner or later, anyway.
It was just that Regina was still standing at the edge of the cliff, and she didn't quite know why.
"How the hell could you do that to us?"
Regina didn't turn around to face the angry voice or the person that it belonged to, but she very carefully lifted her hand to wipe the tears off her face, cautious not to open the wounds again.
The person approached her slowly until Regina could hear an abrupt halt to their movement. "Step away from the precipice, Regina. Right now." She still didn't turn around, not bothering to care about a stranger's demands. "Regina, I need you to step back!" The darkness around her hadn't lessened yet, so whoever that person was, they couldn't be all that close. "Regina! Please. Regina?"
She felt a hand on her shoulder, flinching agitatedly, spinning around. The other person retreated instantly, then took a step forward again, gripping Regina's wrists and pulling her away from the cliff. Regina was completely startled, crying out as her ankle gave in and only the stranger's tight grip prevented her from stumbling to the ground.
"Regina—" Or maybe no stranger at all.
Zelena frowned.
"Regina, are you hurt?" Her sister's face drained of all color. "I can feel it. Sit the hell down, sis. I don't know how you're still standing. You're completely hollowed—" Zelena blinked. "Hey, by the way." She pulled them both down to the ground, only now letting go of Regina's wrists.
Regina instantly drew them to her chest, her teeth gritted, dark eyes troubled.
"Always good to see you, too."
"I really hate you right now, and we can't have that."
Zelena was positioning herself on the stony, wet ground, eyes narrowed, trying to bring her sister to look at her. But Regina had gone back to staring into the distance, not uttering another word, her expression stoic, almost indifferent. "Why not, though?"
Somehow, that stung. Zelena's eyes lost their focus for a moment, pondering whether her being here was such a good idea, after all. Usually, Henry was the fallback plan… if anyone got through to Regina, it was her son, but his expression had been one of utter exhaustion, frustration, sadness, even horror as he'd recited some of Regina's words, only now truly recognizing the wrongness of them.
'Tomorrow I'll be me again. The version of me who's worth anything.'
The mere thought of that kind of self-loathing ignited Zelena's anger again, burning and destructive. If nothing, those last years had brought an infinite feeling of protectiveness over her sister… and if it was herself she had to be shielded from.
This wasn't something new, even if they liked to pretend it was. Regina's sense of value for her own life was… disturbing at best, and horrifying at worst.
"Well, because I'm here now, and it would be a shame if I'd come all this way just to hate you again." Zelena reached out to touch her, make her finally see her, but she thought of that awful flinch Regina had displayed earlier, and how often she'd witnessed that upsetting kind of hyper-sensitivity already and how… they never really did talk about those things when it wasn't Saturday evening, and they were both drunk. And alcohol indulged Regina was… occasionally fun, occasionally unnervingly melancholic, sometimes nostalgic in a weird way—remembering and bitterly laughing about things in the past that weren't at all funny to hear about. They did talk, in those nights, but both of them were all too happy to pretend nothing of it had happened in the morning.
Regina tilted her head, hair falling over her face. "Why are you here, Zelena? Did Henry call you to look after me? Because I already told him I'd be all right."
"You would be," Zelena repeated flatly, doing all she could not to be affected by her sister's casual indifference. "But you weren't. You aren't. I'm here to fix that." She cringed, and as soon as she heard her own words, she knew they were all wrong.
Words were wrong. Touches were wrong. Magic, Zelena didn't possess anymore.
"There's nothing to fix, Zelena, don't you get it? It's not about some twisted ankle or—"
"I know it's his birthday," Zelena interrupted sharply, because softness was wrong too, and she felt what Henry hadn't been able to put into words; there was a lot of rawness and hurt there, but no channel, no source, either, and no target to aim them at.
"—and it's not about 'his' birthday; you all act like there's a He Who Must Not Be Named in the air, and if I'd just speak about him, about Robin, about some held-back emotion that I never expressed, you'd have the solution to your problem. But there's nothing; there just isn't. It's true, we never talk about him, but it's not—it's not why I'm feeling what I'm feeling right now; that's not—explainable. I don't know—"
"Oh," Zelena muttered, as soft as she'd ever been capable of. "Well. This doesn't work." She finally reached out to Regina's shaking frame, gently touching her shoulder to indicate that she was there, to give a last opportunity to retreat, before she wrapped her arms around her sister and spent all the emotions she felt, all the love, into one tight hug.
They stayed like that a long, long time.
Stiffly at first, the angles not yet quite right, adjusting and shifting in each other's arms, until finally, they had found the right version, for a moment just breathing into their shoulders.
The rain splashed on their head, and they held on tighter, in silence and the thumping of their hearts.
After moments had passed, Regina released one, shuddering sob.
She was openly crying now, and it was cracking Zelena's heart, shattering it into pieces. She could have gone her whole life without ever seeing someone break like that, and yet, it was absolutely and desperately necessary.
"I'm here because I love you," she whispered, and Regina nodded against her shoulders, at this moment not able to reply anything, but her heart was still beating, and she was still breathing, and that was enough for both of them.
Twenty minutes may have passed, and Regina was almost getting sleepy in her sister's arms, exhaustion swashing through her body and mind.
Zelena's eyes cast worriedly over her, her forehead creased, contemplating. "What do you say about getting out of here? This ghastly storm seems to be feeding off you somehow."
"It is," Regina mumbled, half tempted to go to sleep right here, and maybe never wake up, which—rationally, she knew what Henry and Zelena found so disconcerting about her having that kind of thoughts, but it didn't feel that way to her. She did have things to live for, but for her, there hadn't ever been a distinction between someone to live and someone to die for. She loved them fiercely, truly and deeply, and she'd spent so much time chasing after her happy ending… that the word had gained a whole other meaning for her, one that still fit entirely. She was happy, as happy as she'd ever known, and if she were to die for that kind of peace… well, it would be worth it.
She thought, maybe that was why the Charmings had renamed the phrase.
(Happy beginning, they'd said; but it sounded more hopeful than truthful.)
Perhaps the old one just fit her better.
"The storm," she frowned, wiping those thoughts out of her mind for the moment, "the storm, how does it react to you? You're a magic creature, but not a magic user, anymore."
"Oh," Zelena grinned. "That's a fun one. As you see, it apparently allows me to rise on my dear heels, but," She leaped on her feet, twirling around, bowing with (not really) feigned cheekiness. Then she lifted her hands up in the air, waving them somewhere in front of her face, the darkness more consistent wherever her fingers went. "It's still darker where I am. The witch is still as delightfully wicked as ever, I suppose."
Regina rolled her eyes. "Just not as stormy and almighty, are you?"
"More like snarky and most powerful."
"Of course."
"Blah."
"You blah."
"That's the Regina I know."
"Right." Regina sighed. "So, let's get on with it."
Zelena's expression turned serious, brushing her hair back and crouching down beside her sister. She carefully supported her standing up, and they both swayed for a second, testing the fragile construct.
"I think I'd rather walk alone," Regina remarked, her fingers gripping her sister's shoulder tightly. "I hate this."
Zelena inclined her head. "At least you don't hate me anymore. I'd say it's an improvement."
"I thought you were the one hating me? Or did I miss the whole apologizing part?"
"You mean like I missed the whole 'glad you're here, sis' act?"
"I am." Regina made a small step forward, and Zelena tried to mirror her movements, but they ended up almost toppling to the ground instead. "I am glad you're here, Zelena. Henry shouldn't have to bear me alone today."
"I know you are," Zelena smiled briefly, "and we do need to talk about his."
Regina groaned, still struggling to regain her balance. "He said that too. Just about a hundred times."
"He also said that you were quite reluctant."
Regina lifted her head abruptly, then immediately forcing herself into sync with her sister again. "I was not. Or, if I was, the good reasons were mine. He's my son."
"He is," Zelena agreed, "and right now that means he cares a great deal about you, more than anyone could comprehend. And I do too." Her voice hardened with something that felt strangely teary, a side of Zelena that she entrusted only to her sister. "So that means you're not allowed to just go on a suicide mission— Not when you have me. Am I not good enough for you?"
They made a few steps together, stiffly and tensely again. Regina shook her head, once, twice, her eyes closed, but when she opened them again, the water was still not gone. She was so sick of it. Sick of opening up her heart but not really knowing how to—no one had ever taught her and she'd had to learn it painfully, spilling out and creating a mess all around her. She needed to remind herself that Zelena was similar to her, in that regard. She had to remember that she had learned all that, been taught by the people she loved. Henry. Emma. Snow. Robin. Her sister.
"Of course you're good enough. Look at me, who's the pathetic simpering mess here? Always me."
"And if you were a singing blonde hippie, I'd still love you," Zelena retorted. "You've let me come close, and now there's no escaping from me, ever. I'm gonna stick by you, no matter what. I love you more than the whole world."
"I love you too, Zelena," Regina whispered. One step. Another step. Her head wound throbbed insistently, eating away at her clear mind. Another step.
"I know you do. You brought that to me again. Real love, not the obsession of a crazed lunatic megalomaniacal deity. And I love Robin, of course, unconditionally," a shadow flew over Zelena's face for a split second, "but you… you're special, Regina. And you can't ever allow yourself to yield, do you hear me?"
"A Queen does not yield," Regina murmured, voices in her head.
"She doesn't, but I don't mean our mother's power-hungry gruesome lectures," Zelena stood still at once, then picking up pace again, satisfied that they were so in sync at last that little disturbances didn't throw them off guard anymore. "I mean us. I mean not giving in to our demons, whatever they might tell us."
"Sometimes," Regina breathed, her voice barely audible, "sometimes it feels like my demons are me, and I am them."
Zelena nodded, sharp pain in her eyes. "I know, sis," she whispered. "I know."
It wasn't enough.
But it wasn't wrong, either, and maybe what they needed wasn't fixing, but a few right pieces as reminders that they weren't alone.
Not now, and not ever again.
"So, Robin is still sulking, I take it," Regina concluded, her eyes slightly glassed over in sheer physical, magical, and mental exhaustion. She dropped her head on Zelena's shoulder, grasping for that tiny bit of rest while stumbling on, desperately pretending not to notice that her sister was half carrying her drained body by this point.
Zelena's laugh was bitter, more like a desperate gasp for air. "Sulking is a good word, I suppose," she noticed, her hand tightening in an almost painful way on Regina's arm. "As much as Henry ever sulked when he was ten—no, wait, I'm sorry." She winced at the sharpness of her tone, closing her eyes only to find that it made little a difference in terms of sight.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought up the subject," Regina sighed, smiling in a way that she knew must look completely bonkers, but she was just so tired.
"I guess that's Mills. You screwed up that adoption talk then, and I fucked the 'your mommy impersonated her sister's soulmate's dead ex-wife' thingy."
"Language," Regina mumbled in response, before she lifted her head for a short second, frowning. "Wait, you're not Henry, are you?"
"I can neither negate nor affirm," Zelena stated with only the slightest trace of sarcasm in her voice. "Though, if I were him, I'd still be a grown guy in my twenties. Who's… allowed to curse."
"Yes. That."
"I think I finally get why you abhor today so violently," Zelena mused with a shake of her head that made her dripping hair swish all over Regina's face. "It's getting weirder and weirder. Wait, I can't see a thing. Let's just pause at that—well, those—trees for a second, all right? Oh, I do loathe this realm. Also, I'm quite obviously talking to myself now." She rolled her eyes to show her irritation to the thin air and her half-drowsing sister.
She didn't allow a single shard of concern or fear prick her skin because she had come here to be the strong and comforting one, and if she started to think about how much more of that Regina was, she wouldn't be able to support her weight anymore.
But Zelena was concerned.
Desperately so.
Because if Regina's fight began to fail her, well, then the universe might as well implode.
"What'd you say?" Regina whispered, a slight tremble in her voice that Zelena worried could be from the knifing cold, and was terrified that it might not be.
"Already there," Zelena declared through her teeth, her fingertips meeting a solid surface. Her face contorted in something like disgust, then; the tree's bark was covered in a deep blackish, mushy paste, streaked with small fibers of wood and dirt. Zelena lay her hand on the tree, inhaling deeply before feeling through the foul bark, meeting—a slumped, almost wholly rotten trunk.
Zelena made a yelping sound, jumping a few steps backward. She whirled around just as her sister's foot got caught in a root, and Regina slipped out of her arm, for a split second almost regaining her balance before her injured and badly mistreated ankle gave in, and she crumbled to the ground on her knees.
No, no, no, no—
The trees around them were all rotten to the core (like us, Zelena almost thought, more on Regina's behalf than on her own really, because that felt in a darkly twisted way exactly like some horrible nightmare out of her sister's mind), wasting away, their smell so thickly like wood that it was suffocating.
Tiny bolts of lightning, redundant remains of the magical storm, buzzed through the air, and in the moment that Zelena was reaching down to her worn out sister, they struck. The trees sunk in themselves, branches came tumbling down, and as it was so dark they couldn't be seen, it felt like the sky was falling. Zelena had felt it coming the second her hands had glided through the tree's bark, but she was still just a moment too late to cover herself.
Regina's eyes widened.
She threw her hands in the air, and even though every breath was making painfully clear just how badly her life force was wrung out, she dug deeper, with fangs and claws and blood-speckled teeth, and mustered enough magic to force a shield just above her sister's head.
Zelena's back straightened with surprise, a quick glance assuring her that she'd been spared from the worst damage.
Her eyes flitted back to her sister.
She crawled forward, taking Regina's nearly limp form in her arms and cradling her with almost furious care.
"M' fine," Regina declared, though her voice hadn't much sound to it, anymore.
"You're alive," Zelena allowed.
"Don't lecture me, m-my prince already did."
"I take it all back, I hate you again," Zelena replied, "no, wait, no, I think the time for jokes is over. I really goddamn love you. And I'm bloody grateful you just saved my life. But." She took a shuddering breath, only now realizing how shaken she was. And how utterly moronic.
She'd lead them to a group of trees in the full knowledge that Regina needed medical attention—a medieval resemblance of it, at least—badly, and of course, the usually safe enough vegetation would turn out to be morbid rotten abominations that crashed right over their heads.
And of course, Regina would fling herself into some kind of jeopardy as soon as there was one available.
She supposed she would be dead by now if not for her, though, and that was the last thing she planned to do for the next couple of decades.
But they were still fucked right in the middle of a gruesomely smelling mess of rotten wood, and her sister was damn near unconscious, and wasn't this the kind of situation Regina and the Savior usually got in?
Oh, but Zelena hadn't ever found Emma as endearing as her sister claimed her to be, and she'd get them both out of here, and make sure it was far from the last thing she'd do.
Zelena took a deep, steadying breath.
Step one on her to-do list was something she'd never had to learn but knew instinctively: When magic users had over-exhausted themselves, they needed either one of two things. One, if their magic was simply used up, a safe place to rest and charge up again. Two, if their life force was nearly emptied, too, the exact opposite was required; basic life energy only had a chance to refill in absolute consciousness.
In short, she had to keep Regina awake.
Painfully so.
How hard would that possibly—
She winced as Regina in her arms began to fidget almost frantically, her elbow punching her in the leg trying to find something to lean on.
Not hard at all.
Well, of course not.
Though she suspected Regina's reasons for pushing herself up from her semi-comfortable lying position weren't precisely her own well-being.
"What are you doing?" Zelena frowned down at her sister.
"Quite obviously more than you," Regina snapped, finally grasping Zelena's shoulder and wriggling herself out of her arms, but she seemed too weary even to bring herself to form a snarl.
"We're not quite in a position to be doing anything," Zelena declared so matter-of-factly it felt almost insincere. So that was how it felt to be plain reasonable.
Well, it was drearily boring.
Necessary, too.
"Because of some foul greenery."
"I don't like it any more than you do." Zelena grimaced. "Regina, you're—"
"Not in any state to be sitting up straight on my own?" A sort of grim satisfaction shadowed her sister's face, along with some kind of desperate disgust at herself. "Guess what, sis? I am. And I'll continue to do so if you don't mind."
"Sure, if you don't mind dying."
The silence following Zelena's statement stretched out far too long. Zelena blinked through the darkness, finally reaching out with her fingers and clumsily grabbing for Regina's hands. "Perks of being trapped," she declared, "we can have that nice little chat now. Your son's just like you, and he's going to worry, and he's going to find us. So—"
Regina tensed under her sister's touch, but other than that, showed no reaction to her words. "It's just getting worse, is it?" she choked on her own words, continuing quietly, as if she wasn't sure if she even wanted to be heard, "Today. I'll be alone again, and someone will track me down, and then we'll pretend that we actually know what we're doing, and then everything starts over once more. And we'll claim that this day will ever end, but—how do you know when the sun disappears if it's been dark all along?"
"You don't," Zelena responded firmly. Not exactly a promising start to a pep talk; but then again, she wasn't Snow White, and she would just need to find what worked for Zelena. "But you keep fighting, anyway. You are a fighter, Regina, it's why you're here today, and it's why you'll be here tomorrow, no matter when that will be. And you can pretend all you like that you've given up but..." she frowned, finding the words as she went, "well, I think you have to finish that sentence."
"But I haven't," Regina replied promptly. Then sighed, with so much weariness in her voice that it drained Zelena to the bones. "But—sometimes I want to? Sometimes, I just want to close my eyes."
"You're allowed to do that," Zelena agreed seriously. "The only condition being that you'll open them again."
"I will. I am a fighter, after all, whatever the hell that means."
"I think it's something… right. Good, or maybe… something meaningful." Why Snow's hope speeches always had that maddening undertone to them was because they were so one-sided. They were less so if they truly came from the former bandit's heart, but there was still always that unsatisfactory feeling within Zelena whenever Snow White's specialty struck again. This… this was more of a conversation. One that involved both of them.
"Meaningful." Zelena's hand was still on her sister's arm, forming the connection that eye contact couldn't provide at the moment. The word rolled in Regina's mouth, and her posture relaxed at it.
Zelena's head tilted. "There really is a point to this day. To how much it… affects you."
Regina snorted. "Mills aren't so great at subtle, are they?"
"No, we aren't," Zelena admitted. "We're also terrible at not prying. Maybe that's the one thing that would convince me that Emma actually is a part of this family. Anyway, you're not getting out of this. No offense, but you're terribly sentimental, Regina—"
"Maybe, and you're the blunt opposite."
"Perhaps," Zelena conceded with an eye-roll. "But I don't think that your emotions can be bound to one single—if fateful—day so easily. It's just pretense, isn't it? You're not actually feeling more today. You're just letting yourself succumb to those feelings."
"That doesn't make any sense," Regina refuted. "Why would I do that, now that I'm here with my son?" That faint smile in her voice had always been audible whenever she mentioned Henry, and that it was now, too, felt like something close to hope. However pathetic a word that might be.
"Because it's what you've been doing the last—how long has it been? Eight years? Ten? The days do blur together in Storybrooke," Zelena mused.
"If that's not what that town is infamous for—except for its weird liking of keeping people trapped—then nothing is."
"It's definitely the more comfortable trait of the two, though."
"Maybe. But I think I've had time feeling frozen far too often in my life to find it that enjoyable, anymore," Regina mumbled. "Quiet peace may be a blessing, but too much time to think never is. It's like a vivid reminder of all the things we've lost, and it's disturbing because it's also a sign how much we still have and..." Regina shook her head, and again, placing her left hand over her eyes, her right hand finding Zelena's fingers and holding on tight. "I don't understand it myself. I'm happy, but I also don't quite know what that means without… moving forward. Storybrooke is—"
"A standstill," Zelena proceeded, realization dawning, not only of the meaning of her sister's words but also of that nagging feeling inside of her heart that longed to combine happiness and still opening up to new adventures.
"Is that bad?" Regina breathed. "Ungrateful? Loving to live in Storybrooke, and yet reaching out to new… stories? Henry said to me that mine isn't over. What if he's right? What if new challenges are… fine?"
A grin spread across Zelena's face, wide and honest if a little hesitant. "I think then we call that living. We don't have to be content the same way as the Charmings, right?" She used Regina's hand as a guide, crouching beside her sister. "Did you believe your little one—did you believe Henry? When he said those things to you?"
"I'm not sure. I wanted to."
"We could always help you." There was a sparkle in Zelena's veins, something fierce and beautiful that they had ignited together, and she knew that Regina had that spark in her heart, too, resilient and powerful, and she was just one step away from recognizing it again. "Adventures, glory, victories, relaxing under a blue sky, all that stuff. Together. You, and me, and your little munchkin, that wife of his—"
"Excuse me?" Regina sounded genuinely indignant. But also… better. Stronger.
Zelena thought that she wouldn't have associated the state Regina was currently in as strong with any other person, but knowing all she did about her sister… as long as there was any way she might come out of physical suffering alive, she would.
"You know, she's actually cute. A fighter, too."
"A true Mills, isn't she? Which reminds me—you should invite Robin. Trust me if I say that there's nothing you can't come back from. You've had a rough start, and now she's found out about it. But honesty—it can work as a better healer than time."
They moved even closer to each other at once, Regina resting her head on her sister's shoulder. For a moment, they listened; to the rustling of leaves in the distance, where healthy trees swayed in the wind; the rattling of branches, the distant thundering that broke through the blanket of clouds. They listened to the slight, electrical crackles of the tension-filled air; to their breathing, and the steady sound of hurrying footsteps.
"'Healer.' That's a good word. You should try seeing one." It was Henry's breathless voice lightening up the dark, which was submitting only reluctantly, with jolted little flashes of lightning burning at the edges of the hazy blackness, illuminating it piece by piece. For a second, Regina thought that Henry's face was soaked in that furious, protective anger again, but in a flash, it was gone, and all that remained was a relieved sob and a sagging of a son into his mother's arms.
And then there was Ella behind her, and she kept Regina upright under the weight of Henry's crushing embrace, and Zelena was still clasping her hand, a new, firm resolution in her eyes. She'd fix that relationship with her daughter—they had time, and Robin was a teenager who'd expressed that she just wanted to get away from Storybrooke for some time on various occasions.
It all felt absurdly like a group hug—a messy one involving only a small part of that insane family of theirs, but all the same—with Regina in the center, and at first, she thought she should be fighting it. Be pulling away again; pushing them all back so she could snuff out this storm on her own. So she could hurt on her own, and build herself up again, and try to figure out why it was that she sometimes suffered without actively getting stabbed.
But her exhaustion was deeper than her skin, deeper than her bones (and yet it wasn't even near her heart.)
Regina let herself fold, sag into the wet, disgusting dirt and the equally dirty and so wonderfully loving arms of her son, and her sister, and Ella—who was still figuring out her story and how Henry best fit into it and how to open up her heart without bleeding.
Regina took a breath.
And another.
And though a thousand dubious odors waved through the air around them, she didn't feel like she was suffocating, anymore.
Maybe next time her throat was constricting, she'd release her breath by talking instead of holding it until she passed out.
"We brought flashlights, and a magical map," Henry told her, his voice muffled, being buried in her shoulder. "We're going home now."
Zelena chuckled somewhat caustically, just barely refraining from rolling her eyes because on the one hand that was the vaguest statement Henry possibly could have uttered. But on the other hand—it really wasn't.
She wondered briefly if Regina had the same self-ironic thoughts she had whenever thinking anything that resembled Snow White's 'home is where your heart is' ramblings.
She probably didn't. Because Regina at her core was much more of a hopeful, loving woman than anyone not knowing her ever could have anticipated.
There was also… damage, from a past that could fade but never be erased.
Their present was different now, though. Bright, and full of possibilities ready to be embraced.
Which reminded Zelena that there was still a conversation to be finished.
She squeezed her sister's hand lightly and locked gazes. 'So, you're up to it?' she asked silently. To consciously moving on, to new adventures, and traveling with Henry, and then staying in Storybrooke, and needing a rest from each other, and sticking together, and looking how their stories weaved with whatever worlds they found themselves in.
Regina smiled. She winced slightly at the small motion, and it didn't result in the widest of grins, but her eyes were shining along.
She mouthed, 'thank you.'
And—'yes.'
So... I'm a slow writer? 7x20 gave me some of the courage to finally publish this though. There's going to be some sort of epilogue next.
Thank you for reading, and I'd appreciate reviews :)