"You're late!" Roland declares as soon as she steps in through the front door of Robin's cabin. Her brow creases as she looks to the living room where Roland and Henry are–and she can't help but smile at them.

Both boys are lying on their stomachs and what looks to be a million legos sit between them. There's a box with a picture of a pirate ship to Henry's left and she can tell he's been concentrating–and she can tell that Roland's struggling to stay patient.

"We made a quick stop after school," Robin tells her as he steps out from the kitchen and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. "And I… couldn't resist their cute little smiles, and there were only two left."

"Pushover."

"You'd have done the same thing."

"I know," she says as a grin curls onto her lips and she leans into him as she turns back to the boys. "And I'm sorry that I'm late. My quick stop at the post office ended up being… not so quick."

Henry nods understandingly and after a quick glance in Henry's direction Roland nods too as a little grin pulls onto his lips–and she takes that as an indication that her tardiness has been forgiven.

Robin slips behind her, pulling her coat from her shoulders as she sets her bag on an armchair–and then, his arm slides around her waist, guiding her toward the kitchen. As they go she can smell the spaghetti sauce and inhales deeply–and a smile pulls onto her lips as she recognize her recipe.

"So," Robin murmurs as he pulls a baguette from a paper bag. "You were at the post office this afternoon…"

Her eyebrow arches. "That… is a place I have to go from time to time."

"I know," he nods–as he takes a long breath. "I'm just wondering if… this has anything to do with a certain letter that fell out of your bag this morning… one that was addressed for a residence in New York City?" Stiffening, she turns to face him. "I wasn't snooping," he's quick to add. "When you were in the shower, I was getting dressed and I accidentally knocked over your bag and…" He stops, his demeanor suddenly changing. "Never mind. It's none of my business I shouldn't have…"

"Yes," she cuts in. "That's why I was at the post office." She watches the way Robin hesitates–his shoulders rising and falling as he takes a breath and she can't quite tell what he's thinking, or how deeply his disapproval runs. "I know I shouldn't have sent it… or the others…but sometimes I just can't stop myself before I…"

"Is it safe to assume that letter was addressed to Henry's once-foster parents?" Meekly, she nods and his eyes narrow. "You've been… writing them letters?"

"Not… exactly," she murmurs. "I just… every time I think of how they treated him, I feel this… anger bubble up inside of me and I want to do something about… I want them to feel what he felt and I…"

Robin blinks. "Are you telling me that you're… writing them mean little notes?"

"They're anonymous…"

For a moment, he doesn't say anything and her eyes sink closed. Every time she's written the notes to the Tremaines, it's been on impulse. She starts thinking about the way the treated him, the way they dismissed him, and the cruel neglect he faced in their 'care'; and she thinks about that first moment she looked down to see him sitting at her feet–so helpless and alone, and still thinking that having no one was better than having them. And she knows the letter can't be traced; she knows that Storybrooke is a safe haven from the outside world, surrounded by a magical barrier that seals them and keeps them apart.

"You, the great and terrible Evil Queen, are sending mean notes in the mail." Her eyes open as she hears a hint of a laugh in his voice, and when her eyes open a smirk is stretched across his lips. "Oh, love. We really need to work on this evil thing. I'm not quite sure you understand it."

"Don't tease me…"

"I'm not. I just…" He sighs. "I just know that if I were to ever have any sort of interaction with those people, I… wouldn't be able to hold back. Mean words would be the last of their worries."

"It's… a little more than 'mean words.'" She takes a breath as her eyes meet his. "I've been sending… threats."

"Threats," he repeats, his eyes narrowing a little.

"They're mostly empty. I just… want them to feel a little bit of what Henry felt when he was…"

"You don't have to defend it." She bristles a bit–still a bit unsure and still doubting her choice, which seems like such a backslide of the progress she's worked so hard to make. "After the way those people treated Henry, they deserve to feel some discomfort."

With that, he turns back to the counter and reaches for a knife, slicing open the baguette. "I sort of thought you'd… feel differently," she murmurs, crossing her arms over her chest as she leans against the edge of the counter. "I thought you'd… want to take the higher road."

Robin nods. "Well, sometimes… the high road isn't the best option."

"You encouraging my bad behavior isn't a good thing, you know."

"But that's just it–it's not bad behavior." He looks back at her, "They're not innocent. They did something terrible and they deserve to pay a price; and you may very well be the only person who'll ever hold them accountable." He shrugs and continues to slice up the bread. "And as I said before, it's relatively harmless."

"Maybe…"

"Don't beat yourself up over it," Robin says. "And your know, should you need any zingers to send their way, let me know because I've got a few choice words for them myself."

In spite of herself, she smiles, laughing a little as she sighs. "Sure."

"But I'm telling you," Robin says, laying the slices of bread onto a baking sheet. "If you're late for dinner again, I'm not sure Roland will be so forgiving." A grin twists onto his lips. "Apparently, you are the only person on the planet who can make good parmesan cheese."

Regina blinks. "But I don't make the cheese."

"Tell Roland that."

At that, she can't help but laugh–and when he holds out a wedge of parmesan and a cheese grater, and a smile tugs onto her lips as she takes it. He bumps his hip against hers and offers her a little wink when she comes to stand beside him at the cutting board–and finally she feels herself relax–and she pushes away that discomforting notion that somehow her actions will blow up in her face–as they usually do–and worse, that they'll blow up in Henry's.

The conversation quickly turns away from letters and the trip to the post office–and when dinner is finally ready, she can't help but laugh when Roland sprinkles three spoonfuls of the grated parmesan atop his spaghetti and meatballs. After dinner comes dessert and a movie while the boys continue to build their pirate ship; and by the time they fall asleep on the blanket in the living room, a fire is roaring and she and Robin are curled up together in an arm chair.

"We should put them to bed…"

"Not yet," she murmurs as her head falls to his shoulder. "I don't want to move. I'm too exhausted."

"I could put you to bed first…"

She rolls her eyes. "I don't know if that's…" She blinks up at him. "I don't know what that is, but I do know that I don't want to move."

Robin presses a kiss to the top of her head. "Okay, we'll stay here for awhile longer then."

For awhile, neither of them says anything. Her fingers stroke his chest as she stares into the fire–her thoughts pulled in what feels like a hundred different directions. They constantly shift from topic to topic, each thought triggering a different worry and Robin's warm makes it slightly more tolerable. She burrows into him and closes her eyes, wishing that these sorts of moments could last, wishing that all she had to focus on was the here and the now.

"How have you been sleeping?" He asks, breaking the long silence that fell between them. "Any better?"

"No."

"You should call more."

"That wouldn't be fair," she says, tilting her head up to look at him. "At least one of us should be allowed to sleep and wake up feeling rested."

Robin sighs and once more press a kiss to her hair. "Or, maybe we should spend more nights together."

Regina feels her eyebrows arch and she swallows hard–it's so easy to look toward a future with him. It's difficult not to, really–difficult not to think about what could lie ahead of them, what natural steps they could take together, what it would be like to not have the curse looming over them, to be normal. And then there are other times, when thinking about those things are just too painful.

"Did you talk to Emma today?" He asks, likely sensing her tension and accurately identifying the source. "Is everything set up?"

She nods, "Yes."

"Does Henry know?"

"Not yet," she says, taking a long breath, then slowly releasing it. "I just… couldn't tell him yet. Part of me worries that things will fall through and he'll be disappointed again, and then there's another part of me that…" She feels his arms wrap tighter around her. "…isn't ready to share him."

"You're not sharing him, not exactly."

"What if she's… wonderful."

"Then she's wonderful," Robin says easily.

"She's the savior."

"She doesn't know that."

Regina nods. "She's a bail bonds person. She literally hunts down bad guys and… and what eight-year old wouldn't find that cool?"

"You're his mother, Regina. Nothing will change that." Again, he presses a soft kiss to her hair and this this time, nuzzles his cheek against her. "And you're a pretty wonderfully kick ass person, too." She rolls her eyes, but Robin squeezes her a little tighter. "You don't have to agree with me because your son does."

"I'm telling him tomorrow…"

"I'd wish you luck, but you won't need it."

She smiles at his confidence. "What if it makes things worse."

"Then… you'll be there for him. You'll help him through it."

"And what if… the curse breaks and…"

"Don't," he cuts in. "Don't get caught up in what could happen. I know it's hard–especially when you feel like everything's on the line, but it's not. You won't lose him because of this. He loves you far too much."

She nods. "And suppose the curse doesn't break? Suppose… I'm throwing a wrench into all the progress Henry's made and it turns out to all be for nothing."

"Then," he begins, his tone suddenly lighter. "You'll just have to continue playing matchmaker with Snow White and Prince Charming." She looks up at him and watches an amused smile stretch across his lips. "Who'd have ever thought the Evil Queen would be trying to bring those two back together?"

"Not me," she says flatly. "And quite honestly, tearing them apart over and over was a lot less work."

"Yeah?"

She nods as a sigh escapes her. "A poison apple here, a forged letter there…no big deal. But having a doe-eyed teacher fall in love with a comatose man… well, that's a challenge."

"But true love always brings people together, right? It's the most powerful magic there is."

A smile twists onto her lips. "That sounds familiar…"

"I read it somewhere," he says, laughing a little. "And then… I got to experience it first-hand."

"Oh?"

"Do you really think a true love's kiss can break the curse?'

"Maybe…"

"Then perhaps we should practice?" He suggests, bringing his finger to her lips. "Humor me," he murmurs as he leans in for a kiss.

The following morning is a lazy one–and she spends it wearing a pair of Robin's sweatpants and an old t-shirt. It's pouring down rain and Robin had to go into work early to open the store. She made the boys waffles and let them use too much whipped cream to top them, and then the boys returned to building their pirate ship and watching Saturday morning cartoons.

Pulling out her laptop, she folds her legs beneath herself and sits on the couch, planning out an elaborate schedule for volunteering at the hospital to create the facade that this is a necessary outreach program, and not something specifically crafted for two virtual strangers.

In some ways, it feels so odd doing all of this for this reason–so odd to do something that goes against the grain of what she's used to; and then, at the same time it feels like retribution. Since the curse, her strong feeling for Snow White had dulled; the once boiling hatred she felt has faded to annoyance. Years of therapy had helped and so had Henry–but in a lot of ways the curse had dulled her senses. Day in and day out, nothing mattered and in the long term, nothing ever changed. For most of the years they'd been in Storybrooke, they'd barely interacted; and though they were never more than a few miles apart, the distance between them helped her to put her feelings aside.

She takes a breath as she looks up from her laptop and she can't help but smile when she sees Henry watching her. "Roland fell asleep," he says with a soft sigh. "I think he's in a food coma."

"Well, he did have four waffles…"

"And like a whole tub of whipped cream."

"That's not true," she says, her smile brightening as she sets her laptop aside. "I took a spoonful when he wasn't looking." Henry giggles as she pats the empty space beside her and when he joins her, she wraps her arms around him, hugging him against her until he squirms. "I love you," she says, laughing softly as she lets him go.

"I know," he replies, red-cheeked and smiling. "I love you, too."

Taking a breath, she nods. "Henry, there's something I need to tell you about."

Likely sensing her discomfort, Henry's smile fades. "Okay…"

"I heard back from your birthmother…"

"I know," he says in a small voice. "She doesn't want to meet me."

"That's… not true, actually," Regina says, mustering a little smile. "She called back. She changed her mind."

Henry blinks, and for a moment, she can't quite tell what he's thinking or feeling, if this is good news or if it's a disappointment. "Why?" He asks, his voice flat. "What made her change her mind?"

"She… said she couldn't stop thinking about you," she tell him as a knot begins to form in her stomach. "I know what that's like…"

Henry takes a breath and then turns to look at her, his hazel eyes narrowing. "So, she… wasn't thinking about me before? Not ever?"

"I don't know," Regina murmurs as she pushes her fingers into his hair and brushing it away from his forehead. "I think… we caught her off guard, at first. When she put you up for adoption, she asked for a closed adoption. It was probably too difficult to watch you grow up with someone else, but it was also difficult to spend a lifetime wondering about something she'd never have answers about." Swallowing, her eyes sink closed momentarily–and she can't help but remember her own struggle to let go of him, how she'd been left with only hope that wherever he ended up was better than what he'd never had with her. "I think she'd just… accepted that she'd never be a part of your life, and then, one day out of the blue, I called her and…" Her voice trails off as her arms tighten around her. "I think she just… needed some time to get used to the idea of seeing you again, after all these years."

"What did she say?" He asks, tilting his head back to look at her. "When she called…"

"Just that she changed her mind, and that if we were still interested, she'd like to see you." She pauses for a moment. "She's going to come here, later this week."

"This week…"

"Unless you changed your mind?"

Henry hesitates and his eyes fall away from hers. "Is it bad that I don't know what I want?"

"No," she murmurs gently. "It's not."

"I just… kinda got used to the idea of not meeting her."

"Well," Regina begins, taking a short breath. "It's up to you, but… you were pretty upset when you thought that she didn't want to meet you, so I think, maybe deep down, you do know what you want and… you're just worried about getting hurt again."

She watches as Henry nervously fumbles with his fingers. "What if… what if she regrets it?" Henry asks in a small voice, not looking up at her.

"Regrets what? Giving you up for adoption?"

He shakes his head. "Meeting me."

"Oh, Henry, I don't think she'll…"

"But what if she does," he cuts in. "What if she doesn't like me?"

For a moment, she's not sure what to say. She can't pretend to know the inner workings of the mind of a person she's never once laid eyes on; and she can't possibly predict what'll happen when Emma Swan comes to Storybrooke. And then, she remembers something that Robin said to her the night before–and a soft smile draws onto her lips.

"Then you and I will get through that together," she tells him. "No matter what happens, you'll always have me."

Henry smiles and nods, cuddling closer to her as he rests his head against her shoulder. "That's true."

"It's just one afternoon," she reminds him. "If it goes well, maybe it can be another afternoon sometime, and if it doesn't… then… as disappointing as that might be, nothing really changes."

"Yeah…"

"And remember, you can always change your mind, too." She presses a kiss to the top of his head. "And either way, I think milkshakes and Granny's is a good plan for Friday."

"And cheeseburgers?"

"Sure."

He giggles a little as he turns himself, curling into her as little grin tugs onto his lips as she starts to slowly rock him. "I love you."

"I know," she murmurs back. "I love you, too."

For the most part, in the days before Emma Swan arrives, Henry remains quiet on the subject. There's a part of Regina that's glad not to linger on the subject and then there's a part of her that wishes he'd open a little.

Archie reminds her that this is hard on him–for years, he's built up the persona of his birth mother, and be it good or bad, meeting her face-to-face will tear down everything characteristic he assigned to her and every story he created about her; and then, there's the extra layer of his recent adoption. That last detail had chest tightening and a knot forming in her stomach–and Archie had gone on to explain that Henry had likely dreamed about this moment, that he'd likely envisioned as a perfect parent, a parent who could swoop in and save him from the cruelty of his foster parents, and now, that same vision positioned this stranger in a position to take him away from a better situation where he was felt safe and loved. She'd started to argue, quick to remind him that her son's custody was not up for debate–and Archie had softened, explaining it was all in Henry's head, and likely something he wasn't even aware of.

Despite his reassurance, the knot in her stomach didn't loosen; in fact, it only seemed to tighten with each day that led up to the meeting, and she found herself wondering how Henry would feel if Emma Swan really were the perfect parents he'd envisioned and what that would mean when he found out who she really was–and throughout Robin had been wonderful, always there to reassure her with a squeeze of her and or a little smile, always there to remind her how much Henry loves her and the past was behind her. For the most part, he'd handled dinner that week–wherever it was that they ate–and he'd taken it upon himself to keep her company and not let her fall too deeply into her worst fears.

In the days before Emma's arrival in Storybrooke, they'd talked a handful of times on the phone, hammering out the logistical details of when and where, and Regina was relieved that it was Emma's suggestion to meet in Storybrooke, or as she'd put it, "on Henry's turf." And no matter how much Archie or Robin tried to reassure her, each and every conversation she had with Emma Swan left her unsettled in a new way.

"So," Robin begins as he rolls onto his side and a small, tired grin pulls onto his lips. "Are you ready for tomorrow?"

"No."

Although he sighs, he also smiles as his hand slides over her hip. "It's going to be fine. You'll see."

"You're such an optimist…" She laughs a little, "It'd be annoying if… I didn't need it so much."

Leaning in, he presses a kiss to her lips. "Well, I've got an unlimited supply." Rolling her eyes, she sighs and rolls onto her back, and for a moment, she just stares up at the ceiling. "So tell me," he says, sliding down beside her. "What exactly happens when the Savior comes to town?"

"I don't know exactly…"

"What does she have to do to break the curse? Is… just being here enough?"

She shakes her head. "There's more to it than that," she murmurs, turning her head on her pillow. "It's… much more complicated." Taking a breath, she presses her eyes closed. "Her being here will change things, I just… don't know how much or if it'll be enough."

"And then you'll have to do the rest…"

"Maybe," she says, opening her eyes. "If I can ever figure it out…"

"You will."

"I wish I shared your optimism."

Kneading his fingers at her hip, he rests his forehead against hers. "I have faith in you, Regina."

"Blind faith…"

"No," he cuts in. "It's not blind." He nuzzles her and she can't help but smile in spite of herself; and when his hand slides from her hip to the small of her back, she can't help but lean into him a little. "You've done impossible things before, you can do it again."

"If you're talking about casting the curse…"

"It's not just the curse. It's… everything. It's everything you've survived, everything you've overcome, all the times you've had to reinvent yourself, the way you've persevered." He squeezes her into a hug and then rolls away from her–and she lifts her head, watching curiously as he leans over the edge of the bed and rummages around for something–and when he sits back up, he's holding the storybook.

"You stole that again?"

A grin stretches over his lips. "It's what I do. You know that."

Pulling herself up, she leans against his arm. "And what point are you trying to prove?"

"I'm glad that you asked," she tells her, his grin widening as he opens the book to a page that tells the story of Prince Charming awakening Snow White with a True Love's Kiss. "So, once you got it into your head you were going to use these two to try to break the curse…"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"No," he says, chuckling as he turns the page. "That's why I wanted to know more about them and their story and…when I went to read about it, I found… this." She watches as he flips a few pages and her brow creases as he lifts a page from the book. "Take a look."

Slowly, she takes the page. "I… don't understand," she murmurs as she looks down at it–a page that depicts something that's so close, but not quite a memory of hers. "I… didn't go in. This didn't happen," she tells him, looking over at him. "I ran away that night."

"That's true…"

"Then why is it in the book?"

"Well, it's not… it just… sort of appeared," he says, a bit hesitantly, likely not fully understanding himself. "The actual page–what actually happened–is still in the book."

"Then… how is…"

"Well," he cuts in, his voice faltering. "I think it's a sign."

"A sign," she repeats skeptically. "A sign of what?"

"Hope." Her eyebrow arches. "It's a sign of hope that's meant to tell us that there's not one end to any story." She watches as he looks down at the page, watching the faint smile that tugs onto his lips as he looks down at the two of them embracing in a former life, in a story that was never told. "So, I think what this means is that… there can be any number of ending to any story. If bringing the Savior to Storybrooke doesn't work or reuniting Snow White and Prince Charming fails, there will be another way to break the curse."

Resting her head on his shoulder she looks down at the page–and for a brief moment, she feels like she almost remembers the kiss that didn't happen in that tavern. "You seem pretty sure of that."

"Well, I am," he murmurs as his arm slides around her shoulders and he presses a kiss to her temple. "We're here now and we're together, aren't we?"

"I guess we are," she replies as she lifts her head from his shoulder and melts into a kiss.

She stands in her office window and watches as a yellow VW bug rounds the corner toward Main Street and her stomach drops–and she finds herself holding her breath, as if to brace herself.

She knows the Savior's effects won't be immediate, that they'll take time and they'll be subtle; and she assumes that she won't be staying long–but she hopes it's long enough to push breaking the curse forward, that something will happen to spark the rest.

For the rest of the day, she's on edge and despite being at her desk for the entire day, she doesn't touch a single thing. She spends most of the day staring off into space–worrying and wondering–and the only thing that pulls her from her trance is Robin bringing her lunch. While he's there he provides a temporary distraction–and temporary relief. He doesn't ask about Emma or the curse or even about Henry; instead he distracts her with stories about customers who've come into his store, making ridiculous questions and asking unfathomable questions. It make she smile and chuckle softly–and for a few brief moments, it lets her forget. It's not until he has to go that she's brought back into the present. He squeezes her hand and his lips brush against her cheek as he wishes her her good luck and reminds her that he's only a phone call away.

She nods as he goes and when she turns back to the window, a little chill runs down her spine and outside, she watches as the wind picks up.

Finally, it's time to pick up Henry–and when she watches him come through the front doors of the school, she can tell he's just as nervous as she is.

"Hey you," she calls to him as he nears. "How was your day?"

Henry shrugs and looks up at her. "Okay, I guess."

"Anything exciting happen?" She inquires, doing her best to pretend that this is normal and like any other day. "You had art today, right?"

Henry nods and looks up at her and her heart clenches when his hand tightens around hers. "I… I think we should have a code."

"A code?"

"Yeah," he nods. "I've been thinking about it all day, and I think we should have a signal."

"What for?"

"In case she's a psychopath."

Regina blinks and looks down at him, her head tipping to the side. "I… don't think she's a psychopath."

"We read this story today about this crazy lady that lured kids to her house and ate them." HIs hand tightens around hers and he takes a breath. "What if…"

"She's not going to eat us," Regina cuts in as she stoops down to his level. "And trust me, I can turn into this woman's worst nightmare in the blink of an eye."

Henry nods and takes a short breath. "I still think we should have a code."

Leaning in, she presses a kiss to his forehead, then stands. "Okay, what should it be?"

"Well, it shouldn't be too obvious…"

"Too obvious?"

"Yeah, like… I shouldn't yell ABORT MISSION really loudly… or… something like that."

A grin twists onto her lips. "I can see how that might be… jarring."

"In New York, everything had a code name," he says as they start toward Main Street. "It made everything more exciting… like it was all part of an adventure or a mystery or… " He hesitates for a moment and his shoulders shrug. "Anything that was something other than what it was."

Her shoulder tense and her jaw tightens at the thought of Henry creating ways to escape from his reality–trying to make his life some sort of game, something to distract himself and make it hurt just a little bit less–and her chest clenches at the thought that this is what he's doing now. "Tell me about that," she murmurs. "What are some of the other code names you used?" Henry glances up at her and she smiles a little. "You know, so we don't repeat…"

"Yeah, that could be bad, too," he decided, chewing at his bottom lip. "Well, when I ran away from my foster family that was Operation Cheetah because…"

"Because you were running."

"Yep."

"And," he giggles softly, "Then when I was… just… in New York… if it was getting dark, it was Operation Panther." He looks up at her and again, her chest tightens. "Because Panthers can blend in with the dark and… well… no one messes with a panther."

"That's… true," she says. "We're all of the missions named after big cats?"

"No," he tells her. "There have been lots of ones that weren't named after other things, but they are usually predators or something animals do to get out of danger quick."

"I see…"

His hand tightens around hers as they near Granny's. "Maybe this one could be Operation Leap Frog."

Despite the knot in her stomach and the pressure in her chest, she grins. "Leap Frog? When I think of predatory animals, I don't think of frogs."

"Frogs can jump up to seven feet," he says in a very matter-of-fact tone. "They can get out of almost any situation and they swim, like, 30 miles per hour."

"How do you know that?"

"I read it somewhere…"

"Of course," she says, chuckling softly as her footsteps slow. "Alright, so… if we need to get out of here quickly, then… Operation Leap Frog is a go?"

"Yup."

"And how do we determine that?"

Henry blinks. "I'll say something about liking frogs."

Regina nods. "Got it."

"And you can say it, too."

She watches as he takes a long, deep breath and slowly exhales it–and once more, his fingers tighten around her hand. Giving his hand a gentle tug, they step inside of the diner and her eyes scan the room, searching until they spot a woman with loosely curled blonde hair and Henry's hazel eyes. "I… think that's her."

"The one in the red jacket?"

"Yeah," Regina murmurs as something indescribable stirs within her. "And… she doesn't look like a psychopath."\

Henry catches his bottom lip between his teeth as he looks up at her. "They never do."

"You ready?"

"I… don't know," Henry murmurs. "You'd think eight years would have been enough time to decide."

"Well, it's now or never," Regina murmurs, looking back at Emma Swan and watching the way she stares out the window, looking just as uncomfortable as she feels. "Come on…"

They've barely taken five steps before Emma turns to look at them, a tight smile stretching over her lips as she gives them an awkward little wave–and Regina watches as her eyes slide to Henry. She and Emma exchange pleasantries and formal introductions as she and Henry join Emma at the booth; and Henry slides as close to her as possible, gripping her hand beneath the table.

"Thank you for coming all the way out here," Regina says when an awkward silence falls between them all. "I… know it was quite a hike from Boston."

"I'm used to traveling," Emma tells her, swallowing hard as her eyes shift from Regina to Henry. "You, uh… you must be Henry."

"I am," he says in a small voice, averting her eyes.

"That's a… cool backpack," Emma murmurs, likely searching for something to say. "You, uh, like Captain America, huh?"

"A little."

"Well," Regina cuts in, trying her best to keep her voice even. "That's an understatement, if I've ever heard one." She glances to Emma and smiles a little. "He's a fan of all things superheroes."

"Yeah?" Emma asks, perking up a little. "That's funny because I just happen to have a superpower."

"You do?"

"Well… kind of," Emma says, chuckling nervously. "I can tell when people are lying." She grins. "It comes in handy with my line of work."

"I'm sure it does," Regina says, shifting uncomfortably but trying her best to hide it.

"Do you… really hunt down bad guys?" Regina watches as Emma nods. "That's cool."

"Some days it is," Emma says, leaning back in the booth.

"How did… you find out you had a superpower?" Henry asks, his voice piquing with interest as his shoulders relax. "Did you always have it?"

"Um… yeah, I guess I did."

Regina's legs cross as she bristles. It wouldn't be unfathomable for someone like Emma Swan to have an actual power, given the person she really is and the place she came from; and the idea that the woman sitting across from her could sense lies and deceit makes her more than a little uncomfortable–but, she realizes as she takes a breath, Emma doesn't seem to be put off by her.

"Call it a survival tactic," Emma muses.

Henry's eyes narrow a little, and Regina can't help but be reminded of the conversation about Henry's little 'operations' and how they'd served as a metaphorical safety blanket. "Why did you need a survival tactic?"

"I, uh, grew up in the system… until I ran away from it, that is."

Henry blinks. "The foster care system?" Emma nods. "Me, too," Henry says, his voice a little louder and more confident, likely glad to have found some sort of common ground. "Well, until recently."

Emma's eyes slide to Regina and she can't help but smile as Henry cuddles into her side a little–and for some reason she finds herself relaxing a bit. "You… recently adopted him?"

"Over the summer…"

"Three days before my birthday," Henry adds. "Well, not officially, but…" He grins as he looks up at her, "That's when I got to come live here in Storybrooke with her."

A grin that's filled with mixed emotions stretches over Emma's lips–Regina never shared the details of Henry's adoption or his homelessness in their short conversations, and she can see that Emma's affected by it. "You're a lucky kid, Henry," Emma says. "You know that, right?"

"I know."

The conversation continues–and for the most part, Regina stays quiet, letting Henry have this moment with his birth mother, a moment he's likely be thinking about for his entire life. And as the conversation, continues she finds herself relaxing. Ruby takes their order as Henry tells Emma about Operation Cheetah; and Emma tells him a similar story of her own–and Regina can help but notice that there aren't just parallels between them, it's nearly the exact same story.

She watches their mannerisms, and she can't help but see Henry reflected in Emma. They have the same eyes and their brows furrow in a similar way and when a grin creeps onto their lips, it's the same. And though, there's a part of her that feels like she should be threatened by this, she's not. And when the conversation shifts to lighter topics–Henry's love of reading and how they're working their way not-so-slowly through the Harry Potter books, Emma's smile warms as her eyes shift to Regina, and in them, she sees something that looks like gratitude.

Ruby brings their orders and Henry reaches across the table for the ketchup, pushing his fries to the side as he squirts the ketchup onto his plate–and that's when he asks.

"Do you regret giving me up?" Regina's eyes widen a little as she looks up from her salad and to Emma, watching the way she momentarily freezes. Henry blinks, his hands shaking as he holds the bottle of ketchup. "I'm just wondering… I've been wondering if… you regret any of it?"

"Um…"

"Henry, why don't we…"

"No, it's okay," Emma cuts in. "That's why I'm here, right?" Beneath the table, Henry reaches for Regina's hand–and she gives it a little, reassuring squeeze, watching him as he watches Emma. "Can I be honest with you?" Emma asks, almost abruptly–and though the question is directed at Henry, her eyes momentarily shift to Regina and she waits for Regina to nod.

"Yeah," Henry says in a small voice as he takes a short breath in preparation and his hand squeezes Regina's. "I want you to be honest."

Emma nods, and for a moment, she doesn't say anything–for a moment, she seems to be lost in her memories. "I don't regret it. I don't regret giving you up for adoption, but I don't regret having you either." She pauses for a moment and Regina's hand slides over Henry's back, rubbing soft circles against his woolen sweater. "It's… kind of complicated."

"I'd imagine so," Regina says, the empathy in her voice surprising even her as she remembers her own complicated history with her son.

"Why did you give me up?"

Regina blinks down at him and her lips part, ready to suggest that maybe that's not such an easy question to answer–but Emma's voice beats hers.

"I was seventeen and… not in a good place," she says slowly. "And I wanted you to have a better life than I did, better than one I could give you." Her eyes shift from Henry to Regina and then back again and a little smile edges onto her lips. "And I know it took longer than any of us would have liked, but I think you were always meant to be someone else's."

Henry turns his head upward to look at her and she smiles down at him. "I think so too," he decides, looking back at Emma as he dips one of his fries–and then, the subject changes to lighter topics.

Emma stays for the rest of the day.

Henry suggests a tour–and as Mayor, Regina is happy to oblige. They take her to City Hall and to the park, and they wander through town, checking out some of the local attractions. The whole way Henry holds onto her hand, happily chattering as he plays the tour guide. They stop briefly in Robin's shop–among others–and Henry tells her about his favorite spot in the store where he and Roland like to pretend they're explorers. Regina introduces Robin, and he shakes Emma's hand as Henry explains the store belongs to Robin and that he once taught him how to shoot an arrow. He smiles a bit sheepishly as he tells her that Robin also is helping to teach him math, something he's always struggled with. Robin's arms slide around Regina's waist, squeezing her gently, as Emma's eyebrows arch as she confess that she'd always struggled with math, too.

They leave the store, and Regina does her best to avoid the pawn shop as they wander down Main Street and back toward Granny's–and that's when Emma says she should probably go.

"There are rooms at Granny's, if you wanted to stay the night" Regina murmurs. "The road out of Storybrooke is usually pretty dark at night."

Emma grins and nods. "Thanks, but, uh… I should go."

"Bad guys to hunt down?"

"Yeah," Emma says as she looks down at Henry. "Actually," murmurs as she reaches into her pocket and unfolds a piece of paper. "I'm not sure this one's so much of a bad guy as he is an… idiot." A smirk forms over her lips as Henry giggles. "Killian Jones, who appears to be an overgrown child who stole a yacht… and a lot of liquor."

"Exciting."

"It usually is," Emma says as a chuckle rises into her voice and her eyes shift to Regina. "But this time, I'll just take the easy money."

"I'm glad you came," Henry says as he leads back against Regina's legs and her arm folds around him. "It was nice finally meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you, too, kid–and, I'm glad I came, too." A warm smile stretches across her lips. "I spent a long time wondering about you and I'm glad that you ended up in a good spot… even if it was a bit shaky for awhile."

"Me, too," Henry says, awkwardly sticking out his hand to shake Emma's. Both she and Regina laugh as Emma stoops down in front of him, and tentatively, he steps forward, giving her a loose hug. Regina watches as her arms tighten around him, squeezing him close and breathing him in as her eyes press closed. And for an all too brief moment, a look of yearning registers on Emma's face. Then, all too quickly it fades away and she lets go of Henry as she rises to her feet. "Bye Emma," Henry says, waving as he once more leans back against Regina's legs.

"Bye, kid," she says, waving a little awkwardly as she fishes her keys out of her pocket. "Regina, thank you for… setting this up."

"I was glad to," she says, taken aback by the genuine tone that her voice takes as Emma takes a step back, reaching behind herself for the door handle of her bug–and Regina feels her chest tighten. "Emma, wait," she calls out, shifting a bit awkwardly on her feet as Emma looks back at her, her brow furrowing in a way that looks so much like Henry. "Would you be interested in… updates? School pictures and… cards at holidays? That sort of thing?"

"I'd love that," Emma says as a warm grin tugs on to her lips. "Thank you."

"It'd be my pleasure," she breathes out as Emma gets into her car. She rolls down the window and waves again–and just as the clock strikes eight o'clock, Emma Swan drives away.

Looking up toward the darkening sky, as if to look for some sign of magic or some indication that the curse is a little closer to being broken; but she sees nothing. Tugging Henry back against her legs, she combs her fingers through his hair and taking a deep breath. "So… what do you think?"

"Well, she wasn't a psychopath," Henry says, looking up at her. "She was nice."

"She was nice," Regina agrees. "Was she what you expected?"

"No," Henry says, shaking his head. "It was a lot better."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah…"

"So you're glad we did this?"

"I am," he tells her as she pushes him forward and takes his hand, beginning to lead him away from the curb. She looks down Main Street as just as the yellow bug disappears and Henry swings her hand back and forth as they stroll back toward Granny's. "It was nice to… hear things from her."

"And did she answer your all your questions?"

"She did," Henry confirms. "She said what everyone else has always told me–well, except for my foster parents–but somehow it matter more hearing it from her."

"Because you know it's the truth."

"Yeah," Henry says as they round the corner, walking in the direction of City Hall. "I guess so."

"Mayor Mills! Mayor Mills, wait!" She and Henry stop and turn in the direction the voice and Regina's eyes widen as Mary-Margaret Blanchard runs toward them, waving her one hand to get their attention and holding her hat with the other. Regina grimaces a little at the sight and Henry giggles–and before she can ask, Mary-Margaret stops in front of them. "Hi, I'm so glad I ran into you."

Regina blinks. "I'd imagine so, considering that you ran half of a block to do so."

"I… just wanted to thank you."

"Thank me?"

"For choosing me to volunteer at the hospital. I can't explain it, but I just… feel so…" Mary-Margaret shakes her head. "I'm not sure what it is that I feel, but it's… exhilarating."

"I'm so glad to hear that," Regina says, hesitating only a moment before reaching out and squeezing her hand as her chest flutters. "Really, you have no idea what a relief that is."

She smiles and nods, and then looks back behind herself down Main Street. "Who was that woman you were talking to earlier?"

"Emma Swan," Henry answers. "My birth mother. She came to meet me."

"Oh," Mary-Margaret murmurs. "I… I just thought she… just… looked a little familiar." She shakes her head. "I just… can't quite figure out why that is."

Regina feels her heartbeat quicken as she shrugs. "I… don't know."

"Maybe she just has one of those faces," Mary-Margaret says, sighing softly as she looks back over her shoulder in the direction that Emma's car had just disappeared in–and for an all too brief moment, Regina feels a fluttering of something she can't quite place and she finds herself holding onto Henry a little bit tighter.

"We have the same eyes," Henry says, filling the silence. "Maybe that's it."

"Maybe," Mary-Margaret says as a smile pulls onto her lips. "That's probably it." She offers Henry a little wink and she doesn't seem to notice that the little boy's eyes–the eyes that are so like the familiar stranger's–are just like hers. "Well, it's getting late, I should be going," she says, as her eyes shift to Regina and her smile warms. "And really, thank you so much for asking me to participate in this program. This week has been so wonderful. It's nice having… someone to visit, someone to care about."

"It is," Regina agrees. "Not having someone is… the worst curse of all."

Mary-Margaret nods in agreement and smiles again, this time looking to Henry. "And I'll see you on Monday. We're going to start multiplying fractions in math–so get ready for it."

Henry groans and Regina smiles, and again feels something stir inside of her–something that she can't quite place. Mary-Margaret waves goodbye and turns back in the opposite direction; and for a moment, Regina just watches her go–and it's only once Mary-Margaret is out of sight that she realizes she's grateful–grateful for her hazy feelings of recognition of the daughter she doesn't know, her connection to a man she's barely met but shares a fairytale love story, and for her unknowing willingness in moving forward with breaking the curse. But most of all, she's grateful for her part in the jagged line that led Henry to her–and all the happiness and hope he'd brought with him.

"I don't wanna learn how to multiply fractions," Henry sighs, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Can't I just add them up like I've been doing? I almost have the hang of it."

"Oh," Regina murmurs. "I… think it's supposed to be faster."

"I guess," he grumbles as they round the corner toward her car parked in front of City Hall. "But when am I ever going to need to multiply fractions?"

"Well…" She begins, her voice trailing off as she struggles to think of an example. "There's always… cooking."

"Not really," Henry says as he swings their hands back and forth. "Adding, maybe, but multiplying?"

For a moment, she doesn't answer–and she's genuinely stumped by his question. She's sure there's an answer–there has to be–but it's nearing nine o'clock and the handful of hours that she slept the night before are wearing on her. "Let me… get back to you on that in the morning," she says as they reach her car. Henry giggles in response and lets go of her hand, skipping around to the passenger side of the car as the conversation shifts to Harry Potter and extra chapters. She finds herself nodding in agreement, promising an extra chapter and a before-bed snack–and she's so caught up in Henry that she doesn't notice the purple hue of the clouds that have overtaken the night sky.