Regina finished assembling a peanutbutter sandwich and packed it, along with a container of baby carrots, into Henry's lunch box.
Turning around to the kitchen table, she sighed as she watched her son nibbling on mouse-sized bites of the oatmeal he'd requested for breakfast.
"Henry, eat!" she scolded, "You're going to miss your bus at this rate."
He pulled a face, but took a slightly bigger bite...one slightly bigger bite.
She sighed in exasperation, walking over to sit down at the table next to him, "Henry Daniel Colter, you are too old for breakfast to be such a battle!"
Henry simply sighed in response.
"What is wrong?" Regina asked.
"Nothing," he insisted.
She crossed her arms and sent him a look that conveyed that was not an acceptable answer.
Dropping the spoon into his bowl, her son looked up at her, "It's just that it's been a week and you still won't tell me what we're going to do!"
She blinked in surprise, "What do you mean?"
"Since you lost your job!" he went on, "Are you going to get another one? Are we going to have to move? What are we going to do?!"
"Henry!" she stopped him, "Look, I don't know what we're going to do, but, yes, I am going to get another job. These things just take time-"
"Doing what?"
"I don't know yet!" Regina said firmly, "It will take some time for me to see what's out there and what my options are. You do not need to be worrying about that, though."
He stared back at his oatmeal.
"Henry, look at me," she instructed. Reluctantly, he obeyed, "We are going to be just fine."
He didn't seem happy with that answer.
"Okay," she sighed, "I know you're getting older, and you feel like you want to protect me, but I'm your mother. It's my job to take care of you, not the other way around! And I am telling you that we are going to be fine. Do you hear me?"
Henry didn't answer.
"The two of us are going to make it through this," she continued, "We always have ever since you were born!"
"Since my dad died you mean?" Henry guessed.
Regina swallowed against the lump in her throat. Henry only had a sense of his father abstractly. He'd never known him, and that still pained her.
"Yes," she answered quietly, before clearing her throat and standing up, "Now, enough of this. Your bus will be here any minute, and you've wasted all this time, so now you'll just have to tough it out until lunch!"
She picked up the half-eaten bowl of oatmeal and scraped it down the sink. In truth, she was more worried about Henry than mad at him, but stern disciplinarian was a role of hers that they were both familiar with.
After sending the cold remains of his breakfast down the garbage disposal, Regina pressed his lunch box into his hands, and ushered Henry out into the door to wait for the school bus.
Going back to the kitchen, she wiped down the counter and poured herself another cup of coffee until she heard the high pitched squeal of the school bus's brakes.
Making her way to the front door, she glanced out the window as the bus pulled away to make sure Henry had gotten on it.
Satisfied that he had, she gulped down the last of her coffee, rinsed the cup in the sink, and loaded it into the dishwasher.
Climbing the steps up to her bedroom, she opened her closet and looked inside with a sigh. The previous week had been a confusing haze of going through her finances to come up with a budget that would cover her and Henry's living expenses for the next few months, figuring out whether to purchase a health insurance continuation from the DOC or a new plan, filling out the paperwork to transfer her savings from the state's account to her personal bank. She'd also spent some time entertaining Emma, Mary-Margaret, and, to her surprise, a few former employees who stopped by with well wishes.
Now, with no pressing tasks, everything felt uncertain and odd. Even the act of getting dressed in the morning had become something awkward.
Last week, she'd put on her normal pants-suit without even thinking about it. It wasn't until Thursday that she realized there was no reason for her to be doing so.
With a deep sigh, she started sorting through her outfits before finally selecting a blue dress. She liked dresses, but the job of warden had required a certain tough image and pants made that easier. Now that wasn't a concern, though, she figured it'd be nice to wear some of the things she'd had fewer occasions to. It was certainly better than the yoga pants and old t-shirts she'd lived in the past few days.
After getting dressed, Regina went down to her office to browse job hunting sites and saved a few listing that looked worth sending resumes to.
Hitting 'send' on the last one, she closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair, trying to decide what to do next.
She'd already been over every room in the house the end of last week when she'd finished all pressing paperwork, and decided cleaning sounded like an appealing alternative to thinking.
When she found herself wondering if she'd missed all of the TV morning talk shows, Regina made the decision to throw on her coat and drive down to Main Street. She didn't really have any destination in mind, but found that Clarke's Drugstore was having a sale, so she decided to stock up on laundry detergent, toothpaste, toilet tissue, and shampoo for herself and Henry while it was cheap.
As she was carrying the bags back to her car, though, she abruptly collided with someone outside the flower shop Game of Thorns.
"Oh, excuse me!" an accented voice apologized.
Regina's gaze snapped up as she recognized the voice, "Belle?"
The younger woman stood before her in a black turtleneck and jeans. Her face looked much better than last time Regina saw her, though there was still a big green-yellow bruise and healing cut at her hairline.
"Warden," Belle greeted quietly.
She cleared her throat awkwardly, "Just 'Regina' now."
"Oh," Belle nodded, "Right, yeah, I heard on the news about you getting...umm...sorry, I shouldn't be saying that!"
"What? The truth?" Regina shrugged, and leaned over to gather up the things she had dropped.
"Here, let me help you."
"That's alright-"
"No," Belle shook her head, "It was my fault. I wasn't looking where I was going."
Regina shifted uncomfortably once they had gathered up all of her items and put them back in the shopping bag, "How are you?"
"I'm...taking it day to day. I don't think I'll be going back to work...there...either," Belle said, staring past the older woman absently.
Seemingly snapping back to attention, Belle went on, "For now I'm just helping out. My dad owns the shop."
"Oh," Regina commented, though internally she was wondering what kind of person would use his daughter as free labor two weeks after she'd been brutally raped!
As if reading her mind, the younger woman explained quietly, "It helps to be doing something, I um...it helps."
Not knowing what to say, Regina simply nodded.
Clearing her throat, Belle attempted a polite smile, "Well, I should be getting back inside. We just got a shipment that needs to be unpacked."
"Of course," Regina agreed.
After an extremely awkward goodbye, the two women parted ways. Belle going back inside the floral shop, and Regina continuing on to her car.
Dumping the grocery bags into the back, she plopped down in the driver's seat and squeezed her eyes shut as she felt a migraine starting to brew behind them. She dug through her handbag until she found a bottle of Excedrin. Swallowing two of them dry, she took three deep breaths and tried to relax.
Finally, Regina opened her eyes again and tossed her handbag back over to the passenger's seat causing it to tumble over and spill its contents into the footwell.
With an exasperated eye-roll, she leaned over the gearshift to pick up her things which included the yellow envelope she'd found in the contents of her office over a week ago.
Leaning back into her seat, Regina stared at the folded envelope containing the mysterious rounded key and anonymous note. Monday of the previous week she'd called Kathryn to ask if she put the envelope in the box. Her assistant informed her that she had not.
A quick online search revealed that the address on the note was to a storage facility in Misthaven, a fact that cleared up absolutely nothing.
Misthaven and Storybrooke were very close to each other. Several of the employees at the prison, and a few of her acquaintances who currently lived in Storybrooke, Mary-Margaret among them, were from the town. Regina couldn't think of anyone she currently knew who lived there, though, other than Keith Nottingham, and there was no way he could have put the envelope in the box. He hadn't been to the prison since that one visit nearly two months ago. In fact, she hadn't heard from him at all since their chance run-in with David and Mary-Margaret.
Shaking her head, she threw the envelope down in the seat, yanked her seatbelt out, and started up the car.
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From the outside the storage facility looked mostly normal, if somewhat dated in construction. That wasn't an uncommon thing to see in rural Maine, though.
Taking a deep breath, she got out of her car and walked up to the main office.
The inside looked like the office of any normal DIY moving company. Cluttered with stacks of clean moving boxes, hand trucks, and packing supplies. Behind the front desk a large, middle-aged man sat watching an old flatscreen television mounted to the wall.
"Can I help you?" he asked, glancing at her somewhat disinterestedly.
"Um," Regina began, pulling the envelope out of her bag. "I have this key and a number. 1111."
With a bored expression he picked up a clipboard and ran his finger along a schematic, presumably of the facility.
"Okay, your unit is in the west-wing. It's right through that door," he instructed, jerking his thumb towards on of the two open doorways on either side of the office, "Take two lefts then a right. Just follow the numbers. Are you interested in purchasing any moving supplies today?"
Staring at the doorway, Regina slowly shook her head 'no.'
Seeming content to go back to watching his television and let her fend for herself, the man behind the desk informed her that the facility was open until 8PM.
It was barely 11AM.
The heels of her shoes echoed as she made her way through the rows of units. The inside of the facility was clean and well lit, and she noted passing several security cameras along the way. She wasn't sure whether their presence made her feel at ease or more nervous.
Finally, she stood in front of the unit marked 1111. It had the same bright blue overhead door as all of the others, and a red LED panel to the side with a circular keyhole to looked like it would match the key that had inexplicably appeared among her things. Above the LED panel was a single light switch.
Regina reached forward and flipped the switch to 'on', noting a thin streak of bright yellow light appearing from behind the cracks on the side of the door.
Digging through the envelope, she pulled out the key, inserted it into the keyhole and turned until it clicked. A beep chimed from the panel, a loud clicking sound came from the door, the metal jumping slightly, and the light on the panel turned from red to green.
Standing completely still, she stared at the panel. After a long pause and a few shaky breaths she muttered to herself, "What are you doing, Regina?"
This was insanity. A mysterious key to a storage unit and note appear by some unknown means, and she decides to go see what's in it by herself? She hadn't even brought her personal weapon with her!
Looking at the bottom of the door, she shook her head. This was a very bad idea.
She should have told David about it as soon as she found the key. Should call 911 right now. She didn't know what was inside the unit. It could be anything. Possibly something dangerous. Maybe even a bomb rigged to go off as soon as she opened it?
With a scoff, Regina rolled her eyes at herself. Now THAT was insanity!
Like everyone in law enforcement, she had people from her past who might be looking for payback, but what did she think she was living the movie Saw and they'd go through some overly elaborate plot to lure her into blowing herself up rather than just shooting her in a dark alley?
In all likelihood the story behind this key was that, although it wasn't Graham's or Kathryn's, it belonged to another employee at the prison and had been put in with her personal effects by mistake. The worst thing that would happen from opening that door would be she'd invade a former colleague's privacy.
What she should do is take the envelope and its contents back to the prison, and let the new warden know it was given to her in error.
She was about to relock the unit and take the key out of the panel with something made her stop.
With an exasperated sigh, she finally squatted down, grabbed the handle on the door, and pulled it until it flew upward and clattered open.
Staring into the space she found it contained several pieces of furniture and plain brown boxes.
Letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, Regina cautiously stepped inside. Dodging between a nondescript beige sofa and a wooden dining table with several boxes on top, she noted that, although cluttered, the unit seemed to be organized. She did not recognize any of the items inside, though.
An annoyed sigh fell from her lips, and she glanced absently at the nearest box. The top was open, and inside she could see it contained a variety of dusty, but fairly new, books.
She hesitated for a moment, but, deciding that she'd already come this far, flipped the lid of the next box open. More books.
This was not clearing anything up, and, based on this storage unit's innocuous contents, seemed to support the idea that it belonged to a department employee.
On impulse, she opened the third box on the table. Inside were a few toys and clothes...baby clothes to be exact, most of them newborn size. Gently moving a few of the clothes aside, she found an animal mobile that was obviously meant to hang over a crib.
Feeling nausea rising in her throat, she slammed her handbag down on the table and ripped the closest box on the floor open. It contained several DVDs and small electronics. Quickly she moved onto the next box. Women's shoes ranging from hiking boots to 4 inch black pumps...having a substantial shoe collection herself, she noted in the back of her mind that they all looked to be the same size. The next two boxes contained clothes, obviously for an adult, though she didn't stop to look any further at them. The one after that more pairs of shoes, men's styles. The final box she opened was more books, but the one on top made her pause. It was a white photo album with the words 'Our Wedding' etched in silver lettering.
Biting her lip, she snatched up the album, telling herself that she'd take a quick look, and, hopefully, clear up once and for all whose storage locker she'd accidentally been given the key to!
When she flipped the album open the idea proved correct, though nothing could have prepared her for the answer. The first page contained a full page photo of a beautiful dark-haired woman in a soft lacey veil lighting a candle simultaneously with her groom...Robin Locksley.
Regina nearly dropped the album in shock at the sight. Looking around the storage unit, she swallowed as the queasiness instantly rushed back.
This stuff belonged to the Locksleys. It was probably the entire contents of their house. The house where Marian Locksley was murdered.
Those books...shoes...clothes...they belonged to a dead woman!
Slowly Regina drew breaths. The air going painfully in and out of her lungs.
Looking back down at the picture, she studied the image before her. She could only blame morbid curiosity for why she turned the page.
On each page were glossy photos of a wedding ceremony, the couple in professionally posed shots, candids that were clearly taken with guests at the reception. The sort of things found in every wedding album. The final page contained a candid of the couple dancing together, staring into each other's eyes.
Gently closing the book, Regina set it aside on the table and glanced back at the box. There was another photo album that had been beneath the wedding album.
She didn't even bother to think about it before picking it up. This one was mostly prints from a digital camera rather than professional photos like the wedding album. Ones of...everything. The Locksleys at holidays and unknown celebrations with various people. The two posing in windbreaker jackets in front of a grassy down, obviously somewhere in Europe. With a large man and a tiny blond on a beach, the two women wearing matching darkred bikinis. Several of Marian in overalls painting a room, and making irritated faces at the camera. More holidays. One of Marian lifting her shirt to show off the tiny baby bump appearing on her lower abdomen.
That one caused Regina to have to swallow hard again.
The next two pages chronicled the bump's growth before quickly progressing into page after page of one of the most adorable babies she'd ever seen. The ones that gave her most pause were the first one, Marian Locksley holding him in her hospital bed her hair limp and sweaty, but the quiet joy on her face clear. It brought her back to the first time Henry had been put in her arms...staring into his eyes for the first time.
The other one was of Robin Locksley slumped backward on the same beige couch next to her with their son sleeping on his chest. Instinctively she stopped to study the couch for a moment, as if it would somehow hold answers for her.
Continuing on the album was slices of the family's life as their son grew bigger, and various other events occurred. Several later pictures were taken inside or in front of a bar called The Longbow. One in particular was of Robin standing outside the bar next to the sign leaning easily against the doorframe.
The picture was a good one...clear and expressively shot.
It was the one she was looking at when she heard a voice from behind her demand, "Who are you and what the hell are you doing in here?"
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TBC...
A/N: The next update won't be as quick after this as I have a crazy couple weeks coming up.