A/N: Thanks as always.
Warnings: Some language, some non graphic discussion of torture and of course, angst.
STORYBROOKE, MAINE - JANUARY, 2023
The two women reappear down in the kitchen about half of a second after Regina's purple smoke covers them up. It's an unsettling feeling to be transported by magic – a rarity for Snow and a not quite welcomed memory for the former queen – but neither of them choose to think too much on this – or the sudden reappearance of Regina's magic - just yet.
Not until they know for sure that Henry is safe.
"What happened?" Regina demands sharply as they appear in between David and Emma. "Where is he?" Her eyes are practically glowing.
"Jesus Christ," Emma gasps, a hand covering her heart, and it occurs to Snow that for the last ten years or so, they've had relative peace here in Storybrooke and there just hasn't been a need for these kinds of panics.
Relative being relevant, of course, because a town full of drama loving storybook characters can never be that pleasant and happy all the time.
"Yes, I've found my magic," Regina snaps. "What happened to Henry?"
"I don't know," Emma says, shaking her head. "We were on the phone and then he wasn't and then he was screaming. Can you…bring…us to him?"
"I think so," Regina replies, and she has no real idea why she's so certain of this considering the fact that five minutes earlier she'd been completely unable to even feel magic within her much less use it. "Give me your hand."
"Emma," David says, his brow crinkling as he looks from his daughter to his wife. It's never been a secret how much he dislikes magic, and he'd be lying if he were to claim that he hasn't enjoyed the lack of it. Gold has had it, and Emma still the power within her, but there hasn't been much need for it over the last few years, and so it's been easy to forget his wariness, but now seeing the former queen's eyes bubbling with purple energy, it scares him because he doesn't want to return to the past when every day was a fight.
"It's all going to be just fine," Emma tells him even as her emotional eyes are saying otherwise. He thinks that she's trying to offer him some kind of comfort him about the magic, though, and not the Henry situation. "You two be on stand by," she says. "I'll let you know where we end up."
He nods his head, and snaps his mouth shut because now isn't the time.
Regina notices that he doesn't offer Emma any kind of empty platitude or promise of hope, and for once neither does Snow, and just as the smoke covers her and Emma and whisks them away, she thinks that perhaps she's just a little sad about how even the Charming's have lost some innocence.
But then she and Emma are standing in the park together, and Henry is lying on the snow-covered ground stripped down to only his blue jeans and his boots and there's the horrific smell of cooked flesh thick and intolerable in the air and she just knows what's happened to her little boy.
Because she can still vividly recall being strapped down on her belly to a metal table, naked to the waist. She can still hear the sizzle of the brand, and she can still smell the burning of her own flesh. She tries not to think about the pain she'd felt or the way she'd screamed until she'd passed out.
"He's alive," Emma says, exhaling her relief.
Regina barely hears her, is already scrambling towards Henry, fighting her body and her rolling stomach with every step she takes. "Henry," she gasps out. She can feel Emma right behind her, and then beside her as they both tumble down to the soft snow next to Henry's unconscious body.
That's when they both see the brand on his back. Angry and red, it has been cruelly burnt into the once flawless flesh just beneath his right shoulder.
"No," Regina whispers, because she knows that mark – that brand – well.
She has it on her right shoulder, too. She'd know since the moment they'd arrived that something like this had been done to him, but she'd been praying that they wouldn't have put this specific one on to him. Bad enough that they'd done it all, but he of all people doesn't deserve this one.
"He's going to be okay," Emma says. "Can you get us to a hospital?"
Regina looks up at her, and that's when Emma notices that the misting purple magic is completely missing now. All that remains is big brown eyes gleaming brightly with tears. This isn't anger, Emma realizes, this is fear.
"It's gone again," Regina whispers, sounding almost bewildered. Her fear getting the best of her, her hand strays out and she touches Henry's hair.
It's just as she does this that Emma grabs her wrist, and she's about to protest, thinking that Emma is about to push her away from their son (she's reminded of a time when after Emma had saved Henry from being killed in the mines, she had forced the sheriff away, and refused to allow her to take comfort in Henry's safety), but Emma has always been the better person.
"Easy," Emma whispers, her grip tightening on Regina's wrist. She slides her fingers down, intertwines them with Regina's and then lifts their hands up towards Henry's neck and presses it against his pulse point, allowing both of them to feel the way his strong heart is still hammering away in his chest.
They both exhale at the same time, and Regina nods her head in gratitude.
"He's in shock; we need to get him to the hospital," Emma says, then. "If you can't get to your magic again, we'll have to take him there by foot."
What Emma means, though, is that she herself will have to carry Henry to the hospital because they both know that Regina's body isn't nearly strong enough to be able to support any extra weight, especially that of a grown man. Regina's eyes close for a moment, and an expression of such pain and hurt creases her face as she tries to concentrate on finding the thread again.
Once upon a time, Rumplestiltskin had showed her how to find magic deep within her body, even when that magic had been trying to hide away like a shy child. He'd laughingly compared it to pulling on the tiniest edge of a loose end. With a knowing smirk that she hadn't understood back then, he'd instructed her to pull hard enough to make everything unravel into energy and chaos, which only she could then control. Those airy easy words had been something of a lie, but there's still truth to be found in the method.
She'd be lying to claim that it doesn't frighten her, though, because she knows that once she really finds and pulls forward the magic again and is able to use it even when she's not just angry, it will all be real once more, and what's to stop all of her addictions and temptations from surfacing?
What's to stop the Evil Queen from coming back?
And what's worse, why is she wondering if it would be such a bad thing for that woman – a woman she hates worse than she has ever hated Snow – to resurface now? Wouldn't the Evil Queen be able to protect Henry at least?
"Regina," Emma whispers, and it occurs to her that their hands are still connected against Henry's neck. The shared touch is warm and safe, and Henry's heart is still so strong and vibrant, and she wonders why it's always hate and anger that allows power to be grasped? Why can magic only be found in the worst of things instead of in the reassurance of life and love?
But perhaps, it can be. Perhaps, she's simply never looked for it there.
"Hang on," Regina says. She thinks about the many books she'd read long ago in another world. The ones that had spoken of white magic, she'd always tossed away because such power is inherently defensive instead of offensive, and she'd always wanted to be the hunter instead of the prey.
Now, she just needs to protect her son.
So she thinks about these books, and thinks about pages she'd scoffed at and disregarded. She thinks of magic that speaks of the beauty of the heart and now the power within in. She thinks of a boy crying out for his mother.
Light purple magic swirls around her. She feels Emma move their hands down towards Henry's, winding their fingers around his. And then Emma puts her other hand atop of all of the others and says, "You can do this."
And so she does.
She nearly staggers to her knees just seconds after Henry is pulled away from them, and rushed towards the emergency room. Her legs are fiercely trembling and her body is rather loudly and angrily reminding her that she hadn't had the energy to spare – certainly not enough for the repeated use of magic - but somehow or another, Regina manages to stay standing on her feet, a small almost victorious smile lifting her lips up just a little bit.
Because for once, she hadn't failed Henry.
But then Emma asks the question that makes her heart nearly crack in half beneath the weight of her guilt and fear, "What the hell was that brand?"
"What brand?" David asks as he and Snow rush in. They're both red-faced and shivering, and there are white flakes in their hair. Apparently, what had been soft snowfall before is quickly turning into a very cold blizzard.
"Someone burned a brand into Henry's shoulder," Emma notes. "They must have attacked him while I was on the phone with him."
"Jesus," David says, his hand over his mouth.
"Yeah," Emma says, her eyes still on Regina who is now staring down the hallway, towards the double doors that Henry had been taken through.
"Regina," Snow prompts, noticing both the way Emma is looking at Regina and the way Regina is staring away . "Do you know what the brand was?"
"I do."
"It wasn't the Home Office's symbol, right?" Emma queries with a frown. "At least it's not the one that they've been spray-painting all over town."
"No, not theirs," Regina agrees. "One of hers."
"Their…Queen had one of her own?" Snow asks, her eyes wide.
Regina's pained eyes flicker up towards the girl who had once been meant to be her daughter. "Not exactly. The one that you have been seeing all over Storybrooke is the one she created to symbolize her greatest creation – what we know of as the Home Office – but the one on Henry's back…" she takes a deep breath, and it catches hard in her throat, "…the one on my back is one she utilized in order to designate certain people as…dirty."
"Dirty?" David repeats, because such a concept is so foreign to him.
"Meaning what?" Emma demands, anger deepening her voice.
"She considered me impure because of what I am and who I've been."
"The Evil Queen?" Snow asks.
"Yes. To her, I was the very worst of things. I was an abomination of the natural order of things, and branding me was her way to show it."
"But Henry?"
"He's my son."
"Which means he must be dirty, too," Snow finishes. She puts up her hand to stop the immediate protest that is about to come from Emma's lips. "Of course I don't believe that. I don't think anyone sane does, but it's clear that we're not dealing with sane people, Emma, and I think that whatever vendetta they have against Regina, they mean to extend it to Henry, too."
"Then I need to leave," Regina says immediately, her eyes widening in panic. "If I leave –"
"If you leave town, they'll just find a way to force you back to Storybrooke," Emma tells her, shaking her head. "They didn't sit on their hands for seven years just to let you walk away now. No, whatever they need from you – magic or whatever - it has to go down inside of Storybrooke, and we're just kidding ourselves if we think they'll let you leave without a fight."
"I never wanted this," Regina says, meeting Emma's eyes. "You have to believe me. I just wanted to see Henry again. I just…I missed him. If I had known that this would…I'm so sorry." She looks so sad and desperate.
And so terribly broken.
Like all of her mismatched pieces – all of the ones that Emma and Snow and Henry and David have been trying so hard to put back together again over the last few weeks – are all just shattering and crumbling all over again.
"Regina," Emma says, her voice softening. "This isn't your fault."
"But we all know that it is," Regina snaps back, tears on her face, and then on the collar of her jacket. "If for just once in my life, I hadn't been selfish, if I had just left him alone to be the happy boy that I saw waiting tables in Boston, he wouldn't be in that room right now wearing the same horrible brand that I have on me. He doesn't deserve it like I do."
"No," Snow says defiantly, almost even angrily. And then she reaches forward and wraps her deceptively strong arms around Regina, surprising everyone in the room, but perhaps Regina the most. "You don't deserve it, either, and I am glad that you're home," Snow insists as she tightens the hold into a warm hug. "And we are going to stop these people. We are."
Regina lets out what sounds like a strangled whimper, and then she drops her head to Snow's shoulder for a moment and just allows the embrace, and allows herself the comfort that her former stepdaughter is offering her.
After a long moment of this, she straightens up, wipes her tears away, and steps out of Snow's arms and away. "I need air," she says and then quickly turns away and starts down the hallway, towards the doors leading outside.
Snow starts to protest, but David puts his hand in hers and shakes his head.
"Someone should keep an eye on her," Snow insists. "They're out there, and this was a warning to her. Or a threat. We need to keep her safe.""
"And we will," Emma assures her. "But today has really sucked for her, and I think what Regina could really use right now is a moment to herself."
"She's had the last seven years to herself," Snow reminds them with an almost urgent shake of her head. "She asked us to stay before. She doesn't want to be alone. Not anymore," She starts to move forward to follow after Regina, but again, David catches her and pulls her back to him.
"She's not alone," David says. "We're just giving her a moment to catch her breath. She doesn't want to be like this when we get to see Henry, Snow. We need to let her try to be strong for him, and this what she needs."
Snow deflates. "All right. Fine. You're right."
"It's going to be okay," Emma promises. "Because we are done with these guys. We were all willing to forget what they did ten years ago, but maybe we shouldn't have been. They killed Neal and so many others, and they did God only really knows what to Regina. But whatever they want, it's over."
"What's your plan?" David asks.
"To go on the offensive," Emma replies, her tone as cold as ice. "They want a war, we'll give them one. And I think they're going to end up being very sorry that they woke up the magic within Regina all over again."
"Should we be as well?" David prompts.
"No," Emma says immediately. "Because it wasn't anger that helped her bring us all to the hospital a few minutes ago. It was something better than that. She's not the same person she was, but they may be surprised to learn that the person she is now is stronger than she thinks she is."
"Okay," Snow agrees, but then adds again, "But we still shouldn't leave her exposed to them, Emma. However strong her heart might be now, her body still isn't and I don't think that she could handle anymore from them."
"I know," Emma replies. She looks back towards the doors that Henry had been taken through. Logically, she knows that his wound is ugly but hardly life threatening. His unconsciousness had been caused by shock and pain as opposed to anything more serious, which means he's going to be just fine.
But he's still her son, and he'd been lying half-naked in the snow with a brand on his shoulder that had been put there in order to taint him as something dirty and impure and good God that just pisses her off.
She breathes in and then out. And then reminds herself that Henry is completely safe now. He's in Whale's capable if not necessarily good hands.
And that all of this – Henry even being out tonight – had happened because he'd wanted so desperately to protect the mother that he'd been without for ten years; he'd left the house because he'd been emotional and upset about what these sons of bitches had done to Regina. Which had left him vulnerable to them. Just as Regina – now in the same state – is.
"Text me the moment Whale comes out," Emma instructs.
"We will," Snow promises.
"And if you see anyone that you don't know –"
"They won't get past us," David assures her. "Trust me, they won't."
"I do," Emma says with a smile. One last look at the doors, and then she follows after Regina, out towards the bitter wind and the whirling snow.
She leaves the hospital and keeps on walking; she knows that they'd been expecting her to just step outside and take a breath or two, but suddenly her feet are moving and she finds herself standing in front of Gold's shop.
And then he's looking up at her through the window.
He beckons her to enter so, of course, she does.
"Gold," she says upon entrance.
"Regina," he addresses her, his eyebrow up. He looks exactly the same as he always has, frozen in time by the magic within the Dark One's blade.
"I need help," she says, her voice quiet and unsteady. She knows that she doesn't want to be here, but she thinks that she'll do anything for Henry.
Even descend into hell all over again.
But Rumple has changed as well, it would seem, because instead of jumping at the chance to destroy her soul all over again, he simply smiles at her and shakes his head. "What kind of help, dearie? Assistance with pain?"
His dark curious eyes flicker down towards her wounded leg and hip, and it's like the steel of his gaze causes every one of her nerves to suddenly spark at once because where as before there'd just been a familiar aching pain there, now she feels an actual burning agony, and her hand shoots out to grab a surface as she remembers that the cane she's been using is currently leaning against a wall in Henry's bedroom back at the townhouse.
She clenches her teeth to stop herself from crying out, but then he's touching her – his hands dry and cool – and she looks up at him curiously.
"Breathe, Regina," he says almost gently. "The pain is in your head."
"It's not," she growls back. "They did this to me."
"They did and the injuries are very real, I'm afraid, but what you're feeling at this moment is not," he assures her, his hand on her elbow. "Breathe and calm yourself, and then we can talk about what you really need from me."
So she does, and slowly but surely, the pain ebbs, and slides back to being a buzzing constant discomfort right beneath the edges of her awareness.
"We always become conscious of what hurts the most when someone else becomes aware of the same," Rumple says as he moves away from her.
She nods her head for a moment, still getting her balance again, and then she asks, her voice shaky, "Did you hear what they did to Henry tonight?"
"Belle did," he confirms, his expression grim. "And so yes, I did. I heard it was some kind of brand, but she wasn't clear on what it was exactly."
"It's this one," Regina says as she turns around and pulls both her jacket and the top of her sweater down so that she can see the ruined flesh of his back. She tries not to think about the whip marks that he can surely see or the other kinds of burns; she hopes that he's just looking at the mark and nothing else, but knows better. She feels his cool hands on her again, and knows that he's touching the warm skin around the brand he finds there.
"I've seen this before," he says, removing his hands from her, and indicating that she can now pull her sweater and jacket back up. If she didn't know better, she'd think that he almost looks a bit horrified at what he's just seen, but surely that can't be because even time couldn't have made him sp kind.
No, perhaps not time, she muses as she meets his eyes and sees what is absolutely some kind of strange compassion. Perhaps love, though.
"Where?" she asks as she turns to face him, readjusting her clothing.
"A girl from a very long time ago," Rumple replies. "One that I became aware of during my search for my son. Through no fault of her own, she had been touched by an evil far worse than either you or I could ever aspire to be, and it had changed her terribly. It seems it altered her into such evil."
"You know her name?" Regina asks, stepping towards him, an old familiar kind of excitement brewing in the middle of her chest. She has a feeling that a name hardly matters because unless this woman is from her home world – and Regina doesn't believe that she is – it won't make much of a difference.
But it'd sure as hell to know at least something about her tormentor.
"Of course," Rumple replies.
"Because you always did traffic in names," Regina finishes.
He nods his head. "Will it change anything? To know who she is?"
"No," Regina admits. "I will still have spent three years in a nightmare and seven years trying to heal myself, but at least when I see her again, I'll know what to call her." She shakes her head. "She called me by my name over and over, like she had some kind of power over me just by using it. She did."
"She did," Rumple agrees. "Her name is Wendy Darling."
Regina tilts her head. "Why is that familiar to me?"
"Because I presume you once read Henry the story of Peter Pan," Rumple replies. "But as we well know, Regina, all stories comes from some truth."
Regina blinks. "The little girl in the story –"
"Had her entire life destroyed by the use of magic," Rumple nods. "She lost first the brave boy who would protect her – my son – and then both of her brothers to Peter Pan, who I might add is not quite the happy little prankster that the movies of this world would have us believe him to be."
"He's the great evil you spoke of? A teenager?" Regina asks, unable to hide her disbelief that a child in a green leaf cap could be made of darkness.
"He may look like a child, but he's been alive far longer than even I have been," Rumple corrects. "And where I might traffic in names and deals, he traffics in souls and youth. He consumes the energy of those he brings to him, and discards them when they serve him no further purpose."
"And this girl? She survived him, yes? So what did he do to her?"
"Sometimes dead is better. She tried to follow her brothers to rescue them, but was turned away from Neverland with that mark that you now have on you on her. It was Pan's way of calling her too impure to be on Neverland with him and the other children. Apparently, she wasn't innocent enough."
"So she branded me as some kind of…transference?"
"I wouldn't waste time trying to understand the psychology of this woman," Rumple cautions. "My son found her after he returned from Neverland. She was in a psychiatric hospital." He tilts his head. "Though a good deal older than he was. She was in her seventies, and suffering from severe dementia."
"Then it can't be the same woman."
"He specifically mentioned the brand that she had. She showed it to him, and he recognized it as one Pan placed on those he rejected."
"I don't understand," Regina says with a shake of her head. "The woman who tortured me for three years wasn't older; she was in her thirties and she was cold and hard and cruel, but she wasn't suffering from dementia. She was very clear about what she was doing, and how much she enjoyed it."
"Magic changes everything," Rumple replies, his voice so solemn and dark and knowing. "Just because she's the one running the Home Office now doesn't mean that she was the one who originated it. Perhaps something changed inside of her mind when she saw Bae again or perhaps someone from whoever was running the Home Office first finally found her."
"Owen did say that he was found," Regina says to herself. "And that would have been before your son returned to this world. I think it's safe to say, though, that Wendy Darling overthrew whatever power structure had been in place. While I was their guest, she was the one running the show."
"Which means she's quite likely in possession of a lot of technology, power and knowledge. All which was used against you during your stay."
"I remember," Regina murmurs, for a moment losing herself in an awful and far too clear memory of the blonde woman standing over, reading to her from a book on the history of magic. She'd been getting angrier by the moment, her words sharper with each word that she'd spoken aloud.
And then when she'd finished, and when she'd slammed the book closed, she'd ordered in a furious voice that her captive be purified with fire.
Regina shivers and shoves the memory away, trying not to think about the burn marks on the soles of her feet or the ones on her inner thighs.
"So she's keeping herself artificially young?" she asks instead.
"Perhaps, though I wager she doesn't want your magic just for that."
"No, probably not," Regina allows with a tired sigh of resignation. She looks up at Rumple, then, "I need a favor from you, and in return, I will give you whatever it is that you want from me. I don't care what the price is."
His eyebrow lifts. "Clearly a big favor, then."
"Yes. The biggest."
"You know better than to offer me deals that you can't control."
"I don't care," she says. "Henry is the only thing that matters to me. I came back here because I wanted to see him and I endangered him, and now he's hurt because of that. I don't care what it costs me to fix that for him."
"You want me to remove his memory of what happened?"
"No," she says immediately. "I want you to remove her brand. It's still fresh and it hasn't settled into his skin yet, which means you can still heal him. He shouldn't have to wear that mark. He's not…he's not what I am."
"And what are you, Regina?"
"I don't know," she admits. "It keeps changing. Will you help me?"
"Yes," he says. "I'll visit the boy this afternoon, and remove it."
She sighs in relief. Then, "What do you want from me?"
Rumple leans towards her, and a sinister sneer overtakes his features, "I simply want your word that you will find the strength and power within yourself to stop the Home Office once and for all and that when you do, you will strike down Wendy Darling yourself. Or bring her to me to do it."
"Why?" she asks.
"Because what she did, for whatever her reasons, she was responsible for my son's death. They were looking for us even without Owen Flynn's vendetta against you; that woman who was his fiancée manipulated him on orders from her boss. The same woman who held you for three years."
"So this is vengeance for you. Haven't we all had enough of that?"
"No, this is about my son, Regina," Rumple says with a short sharp shake of his head. "You want me to help yours, and I will; all I ask in return is that you help mine get the justice that he so richly deserves. Do we have a deal?"
"We do."
"Very good." He looks her over then. "Now, about the matter that you actually came here for: you can feel your own magic inside of you again?"
"I can. But it comes and goes. It feels…unfamiliar."
"Like before? After the curse broke?"
"No, like when I first started learning."
"Interesting. And you want my help in making it stronger?"
"No, she doesn't," a sharp voice says from the entrance to the shop, and for the first time, they realize that the door has been open during the entire conversation. They both turn to see Emma standing there now, wet and cold looking and glaring at Gold like she wants to kick him somewhere improper.
"Miss Swan," he greets, and some things haven't changed because there's clearly still very little love lost between these two. "So good to see you."
"Can it. Regina, what are you doing here? I've been looking for you."
Regina's eyes widen in alarm. "Henry –"
"Is fine. I was worried about you with those Home Office goons around."
Regina exhales. "Oh. I'm…I'm fine." She seems a bit confused, like she's still trying to come to terms with the idea of anyone being worried about her.
"Which is good," Emma says. "Getting help from Gold with your magic, though, isn't. You don't need it. You took care of us without him earlier."
"I teleported us," Regina protests. "A lot of good that will do in an attack."
"You'll figure it out," Emma assures her. "We will. But you didn't go through what you did, and you didn't come home to end up back where you were."
"Far be it from me to ever agree with Miss Swan," Rumple says, his voice sounding almost deceptively lazy, "But she's right. And I would wager that if the Home Office does want you here to get at your magic – which is what I would suspect is what they're after – then what they want is the darkest that you have within you because that truly is the most powerful and potent of all actionable magic. It would be quite a shame to hand it over so easily."
"I just want to be able to defend him," Regina offers up weakly.
"And we will, but not with you becoming her again," Emma insists.
Regina considers the sheriff's words for a moment, turning over the last ten years – what she can remember of it – in her mind. Ever since waking up in the hospital, she's been trying to rebuild herself into something better than she was. Part of that has been facing the sins of her past, and part has been about trying to make better choices. Ones that don't end in pain and hurt.
She still wonders about the one to seek out Henry, but that choice has been made and there's no way to turn back that clock. This one, though, the choice of whether to let the darkness back inside, well that one is still hers.
As a young girl, it'd never really been a choice, because her life had all been just a well played out manipulation, but this is so different now because Emma is watching her with eyes that speak of faith and hope and a hundred other things that Regina feels like she doesn't deserve and never will.
Like the one that seems to be saying that Emma believes in her.
Believes that she'll make the right decision for herself and for Henry.
So she sighs and does just that, her shoulders sagging.
And Emma lets out a breath of relief and says, "We should be getting back; my mom just texted me to tell me that Whale came out and –"
"You let Victor next to our son?"
"Yeah, why?"
Regina swallows hard. "I…I don't want him around Henry."
"He's a terrible human being who I'd happily see locked away in a dark basement somewhere, but he's also the best doctor in this town."
"Maybe he is," Regina says. "But I want him away from Henry. Please."
"Okay. We can do that, but in order to, we need to get back." Her voice is gentle, almost soothing, and Regina knows she's being handled, but she allows it because there's a strange kind of familiarity to it; Emma has always been good at talking her down from high ledges and keeping her calm.
Now is apparently no different.
"Gold," Regina says. "Another favor? This one without payment preferably."
"I presume that you want transport."
"Yes. You have a promise to keep, and I'm…"
"All out of magic, yes, of course."
"Wait, what promise?" Emma demands, her narrowing suspiciously.
"Henry isn't wearing that mark," Regina states, and then she looks directly at Emma and dares her to contest her words. Her eyes are blazing, and it's the strongest that Regina has looked since she returned to Storybrooke.
So Emma simply nods her head because this isn't a fight worth having.
And to be honest, it's not like she wants her son wearing the brand, either.
"Hang on," Emma says just before Rumple snaps his fingers. "Since you seem to know what's happening here, why did they attack Henry?"
"To get Regina to find her magic," Rumple says, sounding like he thinks she's a complete idiot. "And that's exactly what happened. They confirmed that she has it, and still has the ability to access it with extreme emotion."
"So their attack was a success," Regina says dully.
"Your boy is alive," Rumple replies, and there's a sadness in both his voice and eyes that makes Emma look away, her heart suddenly aching. "So no matter what they did, they failed to actually hurt you where your heart lives and if you stop them, then you will continue to make then do just that."
"Regina," Emma says, reaching out to lightly take the former queen's hand in hers. "Let's get back to Henry. We can't protect him from here."
"All right," Regina answers. "Send us to him."
Gold inclines his head and then snaps his fingers, dark blue smoke curling around the two women for a brief moment before they disappear.
He watches the spot where they've disappeared from for a long moment, thinking about a boy that he'll never see again, and the many ways that life seems to destroy the people who deserve it the very least.
His bleary green eyes open when he hears the sound of his mothers entering his room and then sitting down next to him. He tries to smile, but he's too doped up and in too much pain to really make it work. "Ruby?" he asks, slurring his words. "Is she okay? Tell me they didn't hurt her."
"What?" Regina queries. "What is he talking about?"
"Ruby was in the park with him a few minutes before the attack."
"And she didn't smell or hear anything?"
"She's not the same person that you remember," Emma says cryptically. Then, to Henry, "Ruby is fine, kid; she's out in the waiting room with your grandparents. She wanted me to tell you that you're an idiot."
"Yeah, I am," he says with a goofy grin.
"But she's worried sick about you, kid. We all are."
"But I'm okay."
"You're going to be better than that," Regina promises him, her eyes on the white bandage wrapped around his back and chest. "I promise you that."
He nods his head slowly, and then rolls it towards Regina. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice cracking slightly. "I just wanted to protect you and I didn't know how to do that. I shouldn't have looked at the files. I didn't want to see them. I don't want to know that someone hurt you like that."
"Oh, my sweet little prince," she says, and suddenly she feels the sharp pain again, screeching like fire through her leg and hip. Thankfully, Emma sees the falter, and immediately moves a chair under her and urges her into it. "I'm okay," Regina tells him. "As long as you are, I will always be okay."
"Promise?"
"Yes."
He looks up at her and then over at Emma. "Promise me I won't lose either of you to this. Promise me that we're all going to be okay, and that no one is going to take our family away from us again." His eyes suddenly seem so clear and focused and it's the pain and fear causing this, but it's real.
He needs this.
His mothers exchange a look, and then each of them take one of his hands.
And they squeeze tight. They don't say the words he's asked them to say, but he find he doesn't need them to because they're both with him now, and they're holding on to him and he to them and this is how it should be.
"Stay," he whispers as his eyelids droop down low, the darkness of drugs and pain slipping towards him and then overwhelming him.
And though he never hears their answer, he knows without a doubt that they will both be next to him when he wakes up.
They are.
TBC…
