"You guys can hold hands you know," Henry declares on the drive to the beach. Regina and Emma are in the front seat lost in their own thoughts.
"What's that dear?" Regina asks, glancing back at Henry in the rearview mirror.
"I said that it's ok with me if you and Emma hold hands or kiss or whatever you would normally do."
Emma turns around in the passenger's seat with a grin on her face. "You think your mom and I are a make out all the time kind of couple huh?"
Henry shrugs. "I don't know. I just don't want you to be weird because I'm here, because I think it's cool that you're together. Really."
Regina wonders if Henry needs some proof that this is real, needs to see his mothers being together. She reaches a hand out and rests in on Emma's leg.
The light touch takes Emma by surprise even in the midst of this conversation. She and Regina have had few casual touches. They mostly touch each other in bed at night, touches that are deeply intimate: fingers inside each other or bodies spooned against one another. The feeling of Regina's hand resting gently on Emma is different.
Emma reaches down and clasps her hand with Regina's, holding their joined hands up to show Henry before letting their hands rest on her lap. "Ok, kid?"
Henry rolls his eyes and goes back to reading his comic book, but he can't stop himself from glancing up at his mothers every few minutes during the drive to stare at their joined hands and the easy smiles on their faces.
"Give me ten minutes to lie in the sun and then you can drag me into the water."
"Fine," Emma says with a huff at Regina. "Come on Henry."
"Ten minutes Mom. We're counting!"
Emma follows Henry into the insanely cold water. Sixty-degree water in the middle of summer makes her miss Florida. She ducks under a wave, immediately regretting it when the water numbs her whole body.
"I think your mom had a good idea," Emma tells Henry. "Lying on the beach might be the way to go today."
"Stop being such a wimp."
"That's how you're going to play it, huh?" Emma splashes water at Henry and he shrieks as the cold hits his previously dry torso.
"Hey!"
"Serves you right kid."
Emma looks at her son's smile, and for the first time since they brought him home from Neverland, she thinks that he might recover.
Henry sees the grin forming on Emma's face. "What?" he asks.
"Just happy."
"You really love my mom, don't you?"
"Love is a complicated thing Henry. Your mom and I are still figuring out what we feel for each other, but we definitely really like each other."
Henry rolls his eyes. Sometimes grown ups make things far more complicated than necessary. "When did you start liking her? You two used to hate each other."
"I didn't really know your mom until we had to work together to find you. I got to see a different side of her then."
"Mom's different with people she loves – or likes, whatever."
"You're impossible. But yeah, your mom didn't have an easy life and she learned to hide a lot of herself behind a wall, including a lot of the good things, like how strongly she loves."
"Why?"
Emma smiles, because even after what he's been through, Henry can't even begin to understand the way that life hardens people like Regina and Emma, the way that it teaches them that the only reward for goodness is pain. She hopes that her son never understands that lesson.
"She's been hurt a lot."
"So have you," Henry says wisely, and Emma marvels at how much her son understands about her that she was certain she had hidden from him.
"Yeah."
"But you like my mom, even though she was the queen?"
Emma hears the absence of the word evil, hears her son asking silently if it's ok for him to love his mom too. Emma puts her hand on Henry's shoulder and tells him, "Yes. What I know about your mom is that she was willing to die for you, that she loves you more than anything else in this whole world. And even if I felt nothing else for her, there would still be a part of me that loved her for being your mother."
Henry nods gratefully. If the Savior can forgive Regina, then it feels ok for him to forgive her too; it feels ok for him to continue loving his mom just as much as he always has.
"Time's up," Henry announces, standing over Regina and blocking her sunlight.
"Alright dear, here I come."
Regina tosses her sunglasses and sarong on the beach blanket.
"That was easier than I expected," Emma tells Regina, "I thought I was going to have to drag you."
"You always underestimating me, dear. I rather enjoy the water. I just would prefer if it weren't so cold."
"Mom's a really good swimmer," Henry informs Emma as they wade into the ocean again.
As if to prove the point, Regina dives under a wave propelling herself further from shore. Her head pops up and Emma watches as Regina swims for a few minutes before returning to Emma and Henry's side. Emma wonders where Regina learned to swim. Were there beaches in the Enchanted Forest? The closest things to a body of water that Emma had seen were some wells and a dried up lake.
"Come here," Regina says to Henry. "I want to see if I can still throw you."
"I'm too big," Henry says with a smile.
Regina is up for the challenge, and she is certain that watching her fail will make Henry laugh. Hearing her son laugh has become one of her most sought after prizes since returning from Neverland.
"I bet you're not," Regina says, taking Henry's hand and pulling him towards her. Regina kneels down and Henry rolls his eyes before standing on his mom's thighs. "Ready?"
"Try your best," Henry says with a skeptical smile.
"3…2…1" Regina stands and throws Henry. He lands a foot from her with a large splash. It's far from the impressive distance they achieved when Henry was small and Regina would have to make sure not to throw him too hard, but he is giggling just the same.
"Emma it's your turn," Henry says handing her the dice.
Emma holds out her hand, but the nausea that's been nagging at Emma since getting home from the beach is intensifying. Emma bolts from the table and runs for the toilet.
The memories hit with the nausea like they always do. Eleven years old and lying on the bathroom floor of a foster home. Throwing up violently for hours and hours, begging to go to the doctor, before she blacked out. She had woken up in the hospital, minus her appendix and with a ticket back to a group home.
Emma has been beat up, stabbed, grazed by a bullet, but being nauseated
is Emma's least favorite feeling in the world.
Emma makes it to the toilet just in time. The feeling of the cold tiles beneath her bring her back to that day as a child, to the feeling of being so completely alone and desperate and helpless.
Emma doesn't register Regina's presence until she hears the toilet flushing and feels a cup of water being pressed into her hand. Emma startles slightly as Regina sits down next to her. Emma needs to focus on something – anything – to keep her in the present. She chooses Regina's socks – surprisingly pink; they had make Emma laugh the second Regina put them. Emma stares at the socks, but they're pink, and so was the hospital room she had woken up to all those years ago, and she's back there again.
A sob rips from Emma's throat.
"Is she ok?" Henry asks from the doorway.
Regina looks up, surprised by her son's voice. "Emma's fine, dear. Can you please go get her a can of ginger ale?"
"Emma?" Regina says softly, placing her hand on the small of Emma's back.
"I feel sick," Emma moans, sounding so very young.
Regina looks at Emma with more concern than Emma has ever seen directed at her. It only makes her cry harder.
"I'm sorry Regina."
"Why are you sorry?"
Emma wipes the tears from her cheeks feeling absolutely ridiculous. "Being sick like this," Emma begins, thinking that she owes Regina an explanation. "It reminds me of…"
Regina waits, her hand still and firm on Emma's back. Regina's presence is steadying and comforting besides Emma, but words simply won't come.
Henry walks in a moment later with a can of soda. "Thank you Henry," Regina says taking the soda from his hand. "Why don't you go put your pajamas on and watch some TV? I'll be upstairs to tuck you in soon." Henry nods nervously. "Emma's fine. Just a little stomach bug, ok?"
Regina looks at Emma, expecting her to reassure Henry as well, but Emma remains silent, lost in her thoughts. Regina smiles reassuringly at Henry, and he reluctantly leaves and goes upstairs.
"Emma?"
"Huh?" Emma looks up at Regina.
"Can I get you anything?" Regina asks as she begins to rub circles on Emma's back.
"No I'm fine," Emma lies.
Emma waits for Regina to leave, but she remains besides Emma.
"Do you want to try sipping some ginger ale?" Regina asks, opening the can and holding it out to Emma.
Emma blinks and tries to keep herself present. She takes the can from Regina, watches as the condensation falls down the can onto her fingers. Emma takes a few sips and remembers that she hates ginger ale.
"Why do you keep ginger ale in the house?"
"Henry was prone to stomach aches when he was small. I still keep soda in the refrigerator for him just in case."
"Oh." Emma wonders what it felt like for Henry to grow up with a mother who cared about an upset stomach, who planned ahead for such events, who wanted to soothe even the smallest pain as quickly as possible.
"Do you think you're going to throw up again or would you like to lie down?"
Emma doesn't understand why Regina is still here, impossibly calm and strong next to her.
"Uh, I don't think I'm going to puke again right now. I guess I could go lie down." Emma doesn't want to be alone, but she knows that she can't just make Regina keep sitting here with her.
Regina wraps her arm around Emma's waist, and even though Emma has no problem walking on her own, she lets Regina hold her.
Emma stops as they pass the door to the guest bedroom. "Maybe I should sleep in here tonight. I don't want to get you sick."
"Don't be ridiculous," Regina says, leaving no room for negotiation as she pulls Emma along to her bedroom.
Emma sits down on the edge of the bed. "Stay right there," Regina commands, "I just need to make sure that Henry is alright, and then I'll be right back." Emma would roll her eyes at being treated like an invalid, but the feeling of being taken care of is too much to resist.
Regina wakes up with Emma every time she runs to the bathroom. 12:30 am, 1:02 am, 2:19 am, and now 2:49 am.
"You don't need to keep getting up," Emma tells Regina after the brunette has flushed the toilet and handed Emma a cup of water. "You must be exhausted." Emma rinses her mouth out.
"Don't worry dear. I'm not the one puking her guts out."
"Yeah, but you're not sleeping are you? You're just waiting for me to wake up."
Regina smiles at Emma and takes the empty water glass from her hand. "Do you feel up to returning to bed?"
"I'm going to stay here a few more minutes, but you should go back to sleep. Really."
"I'm fine right here."
Another wave of nausea hits and Emma is bending over the toilet. Regina reaches out to pull Emma's hair back as she vomits.
Emma wipes her mouth and lays her head on the rim of the toilet seat. She feels so sick. It's the middle of the night and she feels so very sick. The tears take Emma by surprise, but she is sobbing against the porcelain with no idea of how to make herself stop.
"It's ok. You're going to feel better soon," Regina soothes.
"That's not…"
"I know," Regina says, rubbing Emma's back.
Emma wants to explain that she isn't just being a baby; that she isn't crying about a stupid stomach bug. Regina moves closer, her arm wrapping around Emma's shoulder and pulling Emma against her chest. The warmth of Regina's body makes the tears come faster.
"I know," Regina repeats softly. "I know."