It's strange the way time is moving–everything seemingly in slow motion, yet every time she blinks, something else is happening and a new scene unfolding in front of her, as if each blink fast-forwarded just a little bit.
At some point Graham had arrived, accompanied by a few other officers. He talked to the secretary and to Robin, and for a split second, he'd caught her gaze, offering her what seemed like an empathetic little smile before she looked away and he continued on. Robin told her they'd asked them to stay until the search was over, that they had questions–run of the mill sorts of things–that they needed to ask her. She'd nodded numbly as he sat down beside her and held her hand–and all she could think was that none of this was going to help. Graham could never know the whole story–even if she told him, she'd sound crazy–and it was her secrets that were putting her son in danger.
All of this was a waste of time, but she couldn't do anything about it–and even if she could leave freely, she isn't entirely sure where she'd even begin. The handful of clues she and Robin uncovered in the Tremaine's room at Granny's only pointed to plans beyond Storybrooke and had hardly painted a full picture…
She couldn't even be sure when it was that Henry was taken and she was very well aware that they'd likely get out of Storybrooke as quickly as they could, heading back into the real world where they had the advantage.
Graham returns and momentarily, she's pulled back into the moment. Robin gets up quickly and she watches as he and Graham talk to each other–and once again, everything feels hazy, like it's happening in a dream she's watching from afar rather than just a few feet away from her. She watches as Graham explains something and Robin nods along, and then her jaw stiffens as she watches Graham shift Henry's backpack into Robin's hand. She thinks to get up, but by the time it occurs to her, Robin is on his way back and sitting down beside her as he explains one of the officers found it hanging in the closet in Mary Margaret Blanchard's classroom where the children usually kept their things during the day.
Her hands tremble as she takes it, her fingers rubbing over the Captain America shield on the on front of it, and she can't help but remember the day they'd brough it.
Henry had been so excited to pick it out–his eyes widening as she nodded and confirmed that she really had meant it when she told him he could pick out whichever one he wanted. He'd spent almost an hour milling through the small section of the department store, investigating each bag for several minutes, picking out the colors and designs he liked best. A smile tugged onto her lips as she watchedhim investigate the pockets and available storage, which ones had adjustable straps and which came with keychains and pencil cases and other little things that seemed to increase that backpack's coolness. Then, once he'd settled on a few, he carried them over to the mirror by the women's hats and scarves in the adjacent section, trying on each backpack before finally settling on the red, white and blue one shaped Captain America's shield–and he'd looked up at her with big eyes, asking if he could really have it….
Taking a breath, she tugs at the zipper at the front pocket–the inner circle of the shield with a a stair sewn into the center, and with a wistful smile, she remembers how this part of that bag had been such a selling point for Henry. Her fingers trace over the alternating blue and red bands that hold his favorite pencils and tucked in the little mesh pocket is a well-used pack of colored pencils and the blue highlighter he and Robin use to circle his answers on his math work.
Momentarily, her eyes press close and she feels Robin's head dip forward, his forehead resting at her temple as his arm slides around her. She can feel her tears welling behind her eyes, threatening to slip out and her chest suddenly feels tight, aching with loss.
Robin presses a kiss to her hair and he rubs gently at her back as her eyes open and her tears slip free, and in her ear he whispers she doesn't have to do this now, but she takes a breath and unzips the main part of the bag–and the first thing she sees is the story Robin had told her about that morning, a story about the Evil Queen saving the day…
It's ironic, she thinks as she looks down at Henry's illustration of the queen–of her–flying over Storybook in an outfit that looks a lot like the one Disney chose for her, her black cape flapping in the wind and her gold crown slightly tipped to the side–and it suddenly occurs to her that Henry expects her to save him and the idea of failing him stabs at her core as guilt washes over her and once more, she tells herself that this is her fault.
"We're going to find him, Regina," Robin whispers as he presses a soft kiss to her temple. "We're going to find him and bring him home, and this will all be over soon."
"You can't know that…"
"They can't get far," he tells her. "Not really…"
"They can go anywhere."
"Not… anywhere," Robin murmurs as he pulls back and reaches into his pocket. "We still have the bean."
She sighs as she looks at it. "They can leave Storybrooke."
"Graham put out an Amber Alert," Robin's quick to say. "If they leave Storybrooke…"
"Robin, you've been down that road. You know how wooded it is and how densely populated it is." She sighs as her eyes press closed. "That's what makes Storybrooke, so… well-placed." Robin only sighs in reply as his arm slides around her shoulders and he draws her back to him. "Besides, suppose someone does spot them… what then? What happens if Graham tries to cross the town line and can't."
"Then… we'll just have to get to him first."
"And how do you suppose we do that?" She asks. "We're stuck here until…"
"Regina," Graham's voice cuts in. "We're almost done here, but I need to… ask you a few questions before we can wrap up." She looks up at him, blinking as his words register and she feels her shoulders tighten. "Perhaps we can go into the conference room for a little privacy?" She nods and stands, and immediately, her knees feel weak and wobbly, and before she can even reach for him, Robin's hand slips around her waist and his other hand takes her hand to stabilize her. She smiles faintly and watches as Graham's gaze shifts to Robin. "Uh, I need to talk to her alone, actually…"
"Oh…okay," Robin murmurs, not letting go of her.
"Why?" She hears herself ask, her shoulders once again tightening. "Am I…" She pauses as her breath catches in her throat and the thinks of the times Graham accused her of using Henry to fill a void in her life, insinuating that she was only playing house and would soon tire of him. "Graham, do think that I have something to do with…"
"No," Graham cuts in. "It's nothing like that."
"Would you tell me if it were?"
He sighs a little and nods. "There's nothing to tell, Regina," he says, his voice softer than it usually is when he addresses her. "It'll only take a few minutes. I've already got Mr. Locksley's version of things, now we just need yours. It's standard procedure."
"I'll be right here, love," Robin tells her as he gives her hand a quick squeeze before letting it go. "This is almost over."
She nods again and takes a shaky step forward and then another, feeling oddly disconnected from herself as she follows Graham into the little conference room at the back of the office. Graham's hand hovers just over the small of her back, not quite touching her as he guides her in, and then pulls out a chair. She stares at it for a moment, struggling to make the connection between what he's doing and what she's supposed to do, and wondering how any of this is actually going to help.
Of course, he was under the impression that it would…
Finally, she sits down across from him, blinking blankly as she watches his lips move, unable to make sense of anything he's saying as she feels an overwhelming sense of deja vu.
She can easily remember the last time she felt this way–so lost and disconnected from everything–and she can easily remember the sound of her father's gasp pulling her back into the present. She remembers how his eyes had widened as he stared at her, crouched down on the stable floor with Daniel's lifeless body cradled in her arms, and she'd looked to him with a look of complete and utter disbelief. She didn't hear what he said to her mother and she didn't hear her mother's reply–the only thing she could hear was her own voice in her head, telling herself again and again that this was her fault, that none of this would have happened if it hadn;'t been for her, that Daniel would still be alive if he hadn't loved her…
"It's my fault," she murmurs. "This is all my fault."
"Why would you say that, Regina?"
She shrugs. "I set this into motion."
"No, you didn't," Graham insists in a firm and steady voice. "They've been looking of him since he–"
"I created a path that led directly to him."
"What?"
"I wrote to them," she tells him, looking up. "I wrote to them and I…" She sighs. "They obviously traced the letters back to Storybrooke, back to Henry…"
Graham takes a breath. "When did you write the letter?"
"There were a few," she says, remembering the uneasiness she'd felt when she sent the first. "This winter, then… a couple in the spring."
"And what did they say?"
Her eyes sink closed. "Nothing… nothing significant. I just wanted to make them feel…" She scoffs at how stupid it sounds. "I wanted to make them uncomfortable, I wanted to seem like…" Her voice trails off and her eyes press closed. "I wanted to make them feel like
"This winter," Graham repeats. "As in… December? January?"
"After Christmas," she tells him, "That's when I sent the first one."
"Well, they were on your trail long before that."
She blinks as she looks up at him. "What?"
"A New York social worker filed a complaint in October saying that the Tremaines had been harassing him, and then, right before Thanksgiving, his office was broken into. Nothing was taken, but Henry's file was disheveled. They obviously went through the file, and I'd assume they took pictures and…" His voice trails off and he takes a short breath before reaching out and placing his hand over hers. "They knew where Henry was long before you intervened. You didn't do this, Regina, and… though I haven't always been understanding of your choice to adopt a child, I… have to admit, you've been a good mother to him. It's… changed you," he says as a slight grin tugs onto his lips. "For the better."
Swallowing hard, she nods, still not quite believing it and her eyes fall to his hand over hers–and for a moment, it strikes her that this interaction is possibly the most intimate and genuine they'd ever had.
They talk for awhile longer and, once again, she has trouble following along and staying in the moment. And then, suddenly, he stands, his hand pulling away from hers. "So, my advice to you is to go home, take Robin with you and… just wait. A lot of the time, in these sorts of situations, the kidnappers will call the child's home for ransom or…" His voice trails off as her eyes widen a little. "I know waiting is hard for you, but…"
"I can't just sit there, Graham. I can't just… wait it out."
"Try."
"You know I can't sit still."
"Again," he sighs. "Try." She nods as she stands. "I'll call you in a little while to check in and let you know of any progress we've made, and…" His voice trails off and he hesitates for a moment. "And hopefully, I'll be bringing your boy back to you." He grins a little and nods, and his lips part as if he's about to say something, but then an office knocks at the door and his attention shifts.
"CPS just faxed over the papers we requested."
"That was quick."
The officer shrugged. "Isn't everything in New York fast?"
Graham nods and offers her a quick smile. "We're going to find him, Regina."
She follows him out and her eyes fall to Robin, sitting on the little couch against the back wall with Henry's backpack. He rises when he sees her and almost immediately, his arms are folding around her as he draws her to his chest–and more than anything, she wishes she could find comfort in it.
"Are you free to go?"
"He wants me to go home and wait."
Robin blinks. "Well, we both know you won't be doing that."
"He said he'll call…"
"And, he can," Robin insists. "I'll have John or… someone go wait there and…" A smile draws onto her lips as she takes a half step back and looks up at him. "What?"
"You sound like you have a plan…"
He shrugs. "Not particularly, but we're not going into this completely blind."
"Aside from Neverland, what do we actually know?"
"Well," he murmurs, taking a quick look around. "We know that Gold is somehow involved and we know they expect to open up a portal." She nods and takes a breath, trying to piece together the crumbs he's laid down. "Now, if Mrs. Tremaine was the here until three, no matter when they took Henry, Mr. Tremaine wasn't going anywhere without her… and something tells me she's the brains behind this operation."
She nods. "Gold owns property all over town, so… I assume… they took him to one of those places." She swallows as her eyes shift up to hers. "And it's not like they'd take him back to Granny's."
"She'd rip them to shreds."
"That'd be enjoyable consider what I've fantasized about doing to to them," she scoffs, watching as a grin tugs onto his lips. "What?"
"Just…" He shakes his head. "I just saw a little glimmer of the fire I've been waiting to see."
"Fire…"
Robin nods. "I think it's time that… you let the Evil Queen out to play. I think it's time for her to save the day."
She blinks as her fingers curl into a fist and she feels an odd tingling sensation at the tips–something she's felt more frequently in the past hour than she has in the past twenty-some-odd years odd the curse–and she feels her jaw again tightening. "She doesn't need to be let out," she says in a low voice. "She's already out."
XXXXX
Her hands tremble was she leads Robin down into the vault–and somehow it seems odd to her to be doing this, to be attempting magic.
In the earliest years of the curse, she'd missed it to the point of withdrawal.
For her, magic had become an addiction. Though she'd resisted her ability at first, once she'd started she could hardly stop; and, at first, that had scared her. But then, little by little, she became more comfortable with it, she became accustomed to using it for anything and everything. It was means of transportation, it was a means of getting the things she wanted, and it was a means for revenge. It didn't take much effort and the results instantaneous–and she found her craving the thrill that rippled through her whenever she used it.
And then, the curse had taken it away.
It had forced her to be without magic–and at first, it had been like ripping away her security blanket, but it taught her to rely on herself rather than magic and it taught her restraint. While magic wasn't completely gone from the world she created in Storybrooke, she found little use for it–and she went years and years between uses…
And each time, in some way, had involved Henry.
She can still remember the day she'd given him up–the day she'd left him with his social worker, tearfully admitting that she couldn't do it, she couldn't be his mother no matter how much she'd wanted it. The pain in her chest had been unbearable–and everytime she closed her eyes, she'd picture his chubby cheeks and his hazel eyes watching her go, watching her give up on him.
Then, after a few days, she couldn't manage it anymore, and found herself standing in the vault mixing a potion that would take it all away–that would make her forget those sweet hazel eyes.
She'd held the chalice to her lips and she'd breathed it in, closing her eyes–and she saw him, just as she always did. She felt hot tears burning in her eyes and her hands began to shake, and she'd dropped the chalice down onto the table–and just couldn't do it. Because as painful as it was to remember him–to remember the little boy she'd loved and let go–somehow not remembering him seemed a far worse fate.
"Okay," she breathes out. "It's been… years since I've done this."
"Can I help?" Robin asks, watching as she opens a cabinet and drops down to her knees, surveying the contents. "I want to help."
"I need something of Henry's. Something personal, something… undeniably his."
"Alright," Robin murmurs. "How about this…" She looks up, fully expecting to see Robin holding out Henry's backpack to her–but instead, he's holding out the little illustration of the Evil Queen that Henry drew the night before, and her breath catches in her chest as she takes it. "Now what?"
"Now, I… just mix everything and… hope it works."
"Why wouldn't it?"
"Well, magic isn't… it's not reliable here," she tells him. "It's a world without magic."
"But you've done it before," he tells her. "The bracelets you and Henry gave to me and Roland to get us over the town line, and the tea you gave me to make me remember."
"I got lucky with those things," she tells him, as she grabs a couple of dusty jars. "And those aren't quite as complicated as this." He blinks and she shakes her head. "It's… hard to explain."
"Then don't," he says easily. "If this fails, then… we'll move on to Plan B."
"You… have a Plan B?"
"Not yet," he says easily as he holds out his hand to help her up. "But we'll think of something."
Nodding, she draws in a sharp breath and starts to mix the ingredients. She doesn't say anything as she works, instead concentrating her attention on the potion, trying to channel a part of herself she's long put into the past. Her fingers continue to tingle and it trails up her arms–and she takes that as a good sign, if only because it's the only shred of hope she has that this will work–that magic will prevail–and it'll lead her to her son. And then, this nightmare can all be over.
Finally, she takes a shaky breath and reaches for the comic–and for an all too brief moment, her shoulders relax and the comic floats up into the air. She smiles as her heartbeat quickens and Robin's eyes widen as he watches it–and then, it falls back to the table, flat.
"What…?"
"It didn't work," she says, her voice barely audible as her eyes press closed and her shoulders slump forward.
"What if we try the backpack, or…"
"It should have worked," she says with a sigh. "It doesn't matter what the object is, as long as it belongs to the person you're trying to find. The object wasn't the problem, the problem was…"
"Not you."
Her eyes roll as she looks to him, shaking her head. "Maybe I'm too emotional or…" She shrugs. "Or maybe my magic just isn't strong enough."
"Yet."
Her throat tightens as tears well in her eyes–and she feels so helpless. Turning away from Robin, she pushes her hand through the front of her hair and draws in a sharp breath, finding it difficult to keep her lungs inflated and impossible to clear her head and think of the next step.
"Regina, this isn't your fault," Robin says, reaching out and touching his hand to her arm. "Magic isn't even supposed to…" He stops and she turns to face him as his voice fades. "Would a portal be able to open in a place where magic doesn't exist at all?"
"I… don't know," she murmurs as she shakes her head. "Why?"
"Because if magic is too weak here in a place where magic could be possible, then… we can pretty safely assume that the Tremaines haven't left Storybrooke because if magic is difficult here, it'd be impossible elsewhere." His eyes shift up to hers and he smiles gently. "Right?"
"Maybe," she nods. "Just… where in Storybrooke? How are we supposed to find him?"
"Plan B," Robin replies easily. "We form a good old fashioned search party."
Her brow arches. "A search party…"
"Yes," he says. "People who care about Henry… people who care about you."
"Henry, maybe, but…"
"Regina," he cuts in. "People in this town do care about you, whether you choose to believe that or not." He sighs as he reaches for her hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "And now really isn't the time for you to get caught up in your self-deprecation." A slight grin tugs onto her lips and she nods. "So, tell me, where might we find a map of this town?"
"Um, City Hall," she tells him, taking in a short breath. "In my office."
"Then, let's get out of here and–"
"There's a shortcut," she cuts in as she motions to a darkened little enclave at the back of the vault. "Through there. It leads to my office." Robin blinks at her and nods, reaching for Henry's comic and tucking it into his back pocket–and then, just before taking her hand, he reaches for the crossbow he'd brought in that afternoon and straps it to his back–and a moment later, they're in the tunnel toward her office.
When they arrive, she goes to a cabinet, pulling out a roll of maps–all slightly different, but all of Storybrooke. Robin calls Granny–and it's not long before there's a small group of people sitting around the table in her office. She's touched when her secretary pops in, giving them all bottles of water and letting her know that she ordered dinner for John and Roland who've been camped out at her house since late that afternoon–and she seems genuinely touched when Regina thanks her.
Beneath the table, Robin gives her hand a reassuring squeeze as they explain that Gold is likely involved with the kidnapping and they've reason to believe the Tremaines wouldn't leave Storybrooke, so the logical thought would be to search some of Gold's more secluded properties.
"He owns this little building at the docks, it's all boarded up," Robin says, "And is usually easily looked past."
"And he owns a farmhouse at the edge of the woods," Regina tells him, pointing down at the map. "No one lives there, but he pays taxes on it and maintains it."
"And it's just far enough off the road where no one would notice any activity," Archie says. "I'll take Pongo and go–" He stops as Regina pulls her hand away from the map. "You keep doing that," he says, his voice soft and non-accusatory and she's suddenly aware of her tingling fingers curled into her palm. "Are you…"
"She's probably trying not to put her damned fist through a wall," Granny cuts in, her brow creasing as she looks to Archie. "Her boy is missing. The fact that she hasn't torn this damned town apart is a small miracle." Taking a breath, she squares her shoulders. "Ruby and I will go down to the docks. I know a few people down there who supply our fish. If they've seen anything peculiar, they'd tell me."
"Good…"
"Yeah," Regina breathes out. "Thank you."
"Don't mention it," Granny replies with a wink. "We're going to find him." Regina smiles a bit as her cheeks flush–and for a moment, she feels an overwhelming sense of guilt. "And where will you two go…"
"This cabin," Robin says, pointing to a spot on the map. "It's… a long shot but…"
"It's awfully far," Archie murmurs. "Wouldn't they…"
"Should someone call Graham?" Ruby cuts in, suddenly, looking between them. "Shouldn't he…"
"He's doing his job," Granny says, her voice rising over her granddaughters. "The more people out there looking for Henry, the better." Taking a breath she rises from the table and nudges Ruby's arm. "Now, let's go. We're wasting time just sitting here talking about what we should do."
"Thank you," Regina's quick to say as her eyes meet Granny's.
"Thank me when we find that sweet boy of yours," Granny tells her, offering her a quick wink before she and Ruby exit the office, with Archie and Pongo following behind.
"He's lucky to have them all…"
"Regina, they didn't just show up for Henry. They showed up for you, too."
She shrugs. "Because they don't–"
"Because they've come to care about you."
"They don't know–"
"They do know you, Regina. They know the you that you are now."
She bristles uncomfortably, not quite convinced, but deciding it doesn't matter who thinks what or why–at least not now. Now, the only thing that matters is finding Henry.
"So, why the cabin…"
"Because I think that's where he is." Her eyes widen as she looks up at him, watching as he pulls Henry's Evil Queen comic from his back pocket. "Look at this…"
"Robin., he drew that yesterday, long before–"
"No, look at the last one," her tells her as he flips to the last page. "All the others are drawn nicely, and go along with the story… they're traced in marker and colored in with crayon, and then… this one." Regina blinks down at the hastily drawn little cabin–drawn in pencil with no coloring or matching story. "Maybe he overheard something and…"
"Wanted to leave us a clue."
"He's a resourceful kid…"
She nods. "Yeah. He is," she murmurs, looking down at the drawing as a soft smile tugs onto her lips as she feels a little flicker of hope that extinguished when the locator spell had failed, and taking a breath, she hopes that this time, she won't be let down–and that she won't let Henry down.
XXXXX
Henry looks to the door for what feels like the thousandth time–and he takes a breath, shifting uncomfortably in the hard chair by the fireplace, trying to free his hands.
From where he sits, he can just barely see out the window. It's getting late. The sun is getting lower and there's an orange glow coming in from the window, and he knows it'll be dark soon–and for an all too brief moment, he wonders if they didn't find the drawing he'd left for them or that if they had, they hadn't seen it as anything more than a drawing in a book of a lot of similar drawings…
She'll come, he thinks to himself, pushing that thought away. She has to come…
His eyes close as he tips his head up, already able to feel the misty rain–and all he can do is hope that the storm won't last, too long. He burrows down into the too-warm winter coat that serves as his only real protection against the rain, and he closes his eyes, ignoring the rumbling in his stomach.
On evenings like this, he'd normally have ducked into the library or a museum and wandered around until the weather cleared. In the library, he'd find a book and, if it weren't too busy, he'd find a plush chair to cuddle up in and lose himself in the story, pretending that he were the main character and his life was anything other than what it was. Sometimes, he'd sneak up to the top floor with the book–a dusty room where old newspapers were held, a room no one ever seems to visit. There weren't comfortable chairs up there, but there was a nice window with a thick ledge that he liked to sit on–and there, he could go completely unnoticed, or better yet forgotten.
But today was a Sunday and everything closed early. So he'd returned to his usual spot–a thin sliver of an ally between two buildings where there was a little bit of an overhang, that he'd hoped would keep the rain out.
He closes his eyes as thunder cracks above and he holds his breath, wishing that he were somewhere else–wishing there was something that could take him away from this moment. He thinks of Harry Potter–a favorite escape–and he thinks about how amazing it would have felt to get that letter from Hogwarts, a letter inviting him into a world of magic and acceptance, a world where he had friends and shelter, and a world away from the abusive tongues of the Dursleys.
His eyes open as the rain begins to beat down, dripping down from the little overhang as large puddles begin to pool on the sidewalk in front of him, slowly but surely stretching toward him. Groaning, he draws up his legs and hugs them to his chest, trying to shrink himself into the little dry space that remains.
For a while, he just sits there, watching as people pass him by, seemingly completely unaware of his presence and his gaze–and when when his stomach rumbles again, he reaches for his backpack and pulls out the last of his candy. He frowns at the half-eaten Kit-Kat bar and breaks off a piece, reminding himself that it's better than nothing…at least it's not cold out, he thinks to himself–that would be worse, that would be the only thing that would make this evening worse.
Tears brim in his eyes as the rain beats down harder and his stomach rumbles again, disappointed that the candy only seemed to make him hungrier. Pressing his eyes closed, he hugged his legs tighter, resting his head on his knees–if the rain wasn't going to stop, he hoped that at least sleep would come quickly…
"Well, isn't this just great," a voice muttered. He lifted his head to watch a woman drop down two bags at her feet on the wet sidewalk as she rummaged through her purse–and his eyes widened at the bakery box just within his reach. Catching his lip between his teeth, he pushed his arm through the sleeve of his coat, stretching out his hand for the box. "This couldn't be any worse," she said, as she lifted a phone from her bag and looked at it, shifting her foot in front of the box.
"At least it's not cold," he murmured, not necessarily to her, but more as a reminder to himself–but nonetheless, she flinched and looked down at him with wide eyes and parted lips. He felt a grin tug onto his lips as he looked up at her–she looked nice, he thought, after all, she was the first person who'd ever noticed him there, stuffed in his spot between the buildings, that had to mean she was a nice person, or at least, a caring one. "It'd would be worse if it were cold out and raining."
"Oh," she breathed out. "Yeah, I… I guess it would be." She blinked a couple of time as she looked at him, then looked to the tight space around him, taking in his blanket and and backpack, his winter coat and the way he hugged his legs to himself. "Trying to stay dry?"
"I guess so," he'd told her, as he looked away, feeling oddly embarrassed as his stomach rumbled loudly.
For a moment, she didn't' say anything; instead, she just stood there, staring at him–and a little grin edge onto his lips at the realization that she didn't seem in a rush to go away, and he wondered if she'd share whatever was in the bakery box at his feet.
Then, she bent down. "I… I'm… I'm wondering if you like hot cocoa," she asked, catching him off guard as he nodded.
"With cinnamon."
"Hot cocoa with cinnamon," she says, as a smile stretches over her lips. "Would you like to get some?" His eyebrows arch at the question and he's quick to nod, smiling as she reaches out and takes his hand. "Come on. If we run fast, we'll barely get wet," she told him as she tugged him up and toward the diner across the street…
She'll come," he tells himself again. A little grin edges onto his lips as he thinks of his mom, bursting into the cabin and taking them all by surprise as a fireball floated up from her hand. He giggles to himself as he pictures their faces–a mix of shock and horror–as she blasted them back to wherever they'd come from… like a scene from a comic book. She'll be here….
He giggles quietly to himself–and then suddenly, he's aware that the conversations have halted and everyone's eyes have shifted to him. He shrinks back in his chair and blinks a couple of time before looking down a his lap–and though he's not looking at them, he can feel hard eyes watching him.
"What's he laughing about over there?" Mr. Tremaine asks.
"Who knows?"
"Does it matter?" Mr. Gold asks, sighing in frustration. "You said you have proof…"
Henry looks up and nervously, his eyes slide across the room, watching as the Tremaine's talk to Mr. Gold, assuring him that their plan will work. Gold sits back in his chair, folding his arms over his chest. He doesn't look convinced, and somehow, that's amusing.
"Of course we do," Mr. Tremaine says, sounding a bit unsure… and he wonders what proof they need or why it matters.
Gold's eyes narrow skeptically and Henry watches as the Tremaines exchange looks–and likes that this man seems to make them nervous, and decides to take it as a good sign. He doesn't know though, if it truly is. He's only ever seen Mr. Gold in passing–sometimes at Granny's or walking down Main Street, and sometimes, he'll catch his gaze as he walks by his shop. It's usually then that his mom's hand tightens around his, tugging him a little more quickly as they pass–and though, Robin likes to take him and Roland to the various shops along Main Street, they've never once stopped in at the pawn shop.
Henry's stomach drops, at that thought–and once more, he reminds himself that his mom is on her way… that his will all be over soon.
"If you want my help," Gold says flatly. "I need proof that you know where my son is. It's as simple as that."
Henry watches as Mrs. Tremaine nods to her husband and he feels his shoulders stiffen as he watches him rise from the table. He goes to a suitcase by the door, smiling smugly at Henry as he lifts it and unzips it. Reaching inside, he rummages through until he lifts a sketchbook from it–a leather bound one, not so unlike the storybook of the Enchanted Forest that he has at home.
"Here…"
"And what's this?" Mr. Gold asks. "Doodles."
"Sketches."
"From Neverland…" Mr. Gold blinks and Henry feels his eyes widen– Neverland?, he wonders to himself. The place where Peter Pan lives? He sighs a little and he watches as Mr. Gold takes the book. "A fairy gave it to us."
"A fairy…" Henry blinks as Gold looks between them–and then, his breath hitches in throat as he looks down a they page. "Bae," he murmurs.
"That's him, isn't it? The son you've been waiting to be reunited with?"
"It'd be an even swap…"
"One boy for another," Mrs. Tremaine adds as her eyes shift to Henry.
"And why should I believe it'd be as easy as that?" Mr. Gold asks, cooly, as he he looks up from the book. "Why make the swap at all? What's in it for you?" Again, the Tremaine's exchange looks and Gold's eyes narrow. "You need me," he says. "You need the Dark One."
A little gasp escapes Henry, but no one seems to notice it.
"We could… call it an alliance," Mrs. Tremaine tells him, sounding suddenly nervous.
"An alliance…"
"Sure, why not?"
"And, suppose I agreed…"
"It'd get you your son back…"
Mr. Gold nods. "Assuming this sketch is real."
"How else would we have known what he looked like?"
Henry watches as Gold's eyes narrow and he leans in a little, looking between them. "Yes, that's a very good question," he says. "How do you know what my son looks like?" Again, they exchanged glances as a little, almost mechanical sounding laugh escapes Gold, sending a little shiver down Henry's spine. "Suppose I agree to this," he says again. "We can't just… drive to Neverland."
"No…"
"We've figured that out," Mr. Tremaine says, too confidently as he rises from the table.
"Have you now?" Gold asks, craning his neck as Mr. Tremaine goes back to the suitcase and flips it open. "Something from that fairy you mentioned, no doubt."
Mr. Tremaine huffs as he pushes aside the contents of the suitcase–and then, as his fingers slip beneath the lining, his breath catches. Frantically, he pushes his hand deeper, his eyes widening as a thin layer of sweat begins to form at his brow. "Where is it?" He barks, his eyes shifting to Henry. "Where the hell is it?"
"Where's what?"
"The bean!"
"What bean?" Henry asks, blinking and scrunching up his nose. "And why would you keep beans in your suitcase? That's gross."
"You know very well what bean you little shit! You took it. I know you did. That's what you were grinning about before, wasn't it?"
Henry's eyes widen. "Even if I did know what bean you were talking about," he begins. "How would I steal it from your suitcase, which is all the way over there on the other side of the room, when I'm all the way over here, tied up on the opposite side of the room?"
A snicker escapes Gold as Mrs. Tremaine sighs in annoyance and pushes herself up from the table. "You're just not looking–"
"I am looking," Mr. Tremaine snaps. "It's not my fault that little…" His voice trails off. "He's always been like this, more work than he's worth."
Mrs. Tremaine's eyes narrow. "Well, if it hadn't been for his so-called mother–"
"She's not my so-called mother," Henry cuts in. "She's my mother."
"Well, whatever she is, she ruined a perfectly good plan to–" Her voice halts a she shoves her hand into the lining of the suitcase, her eyes widening as she discovers the same thing her husband did a moment before. "I don't believe this."
A grin edges onto Henry's lips–and while he's not entirely sure what his mom messed up for them, he's glad that she did.
"So, you're telling me that… all of this has been for nothing," Gold says, his voice suddenly icy. "You've no way to open a portal…"
"We do!"
"But you don't," Henry says, his grin gowning more confident. "You just said you don't." Both look to him, eyes widening and he feels himself growing more daring. "You might as well just give up now."
"Give up…"
"Or you'll have my mom's wrath to deal with."
"And what makes you so sure your mom will save the day."
"Because that's what she does," Henry says simply.
"You make it sound like she's some sort of hero," Gold says, rising up from his seat at the table. "Like, she's… a savior or some kind. No," he says, shaking his head. "She's nothing more than a pawn in my game."
"She is a hero."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that…"
Henry shrugs. "Maybe you wouldn't…"
Gold's eyes narrow. "You're so much like her."
"Thank you."
"But just like her, you're wrong about this," Gold says. "If I've a chance to get to my son, I'm not going to let your mother get in my way." He grins as his eyes shift to the Tremaine's. "The bean couldn't have just gotten up and walked away…"
"No…"
"You might be the Dark One," Henry cuts in. "But if you're so powerful, you wouldn't have needed my mom to get to your son." His brow arches as Gold looks back to him with wide, indignant eyes. "And you certainly wouldn't need the two of them."
Taking a breath, he grins–and once more, his eyes shift to the door and no one seems to notice the footsteps he hears near the window…
She's coming, he thinks as he settles back and watches as the Tremaines bicker about the missing bean. It's almost over…
XXXXX
Regina looks at the cabin just down a stretch of the dirty road–and her stomach flops as a thousand worst case scenarios flash before her eyes.
She thinks of Henry, mostly, and the terrified look he'd given her at every mention of his foster parents. She can still easily see him, sitting across from her in the booth of the little New York city diner she'd taken him too, his eyes wide as his voice shook as asked her if she was from Child Protective Services and would be sending him back to his foster family. Her heart had broken at the realization that whatever life he'd run away from would be one that was worse than sleeping alone in the rain in a big, dangerous city. He'd pleaded silently with her not to call, not to send him back to him–and it'd been in that moment, she'd promised to protect him. She hadn't said it, not with words, but her intent was there–and Henry knew it. She'd asked him to trust her, and he did. Months later, he'd told her that there was just something about her, that he knew she was a good person and that she wouldn't hurt him. He'd called it a super power. At the time, it'd made her heart swell with something that'd been completely indescribable, but completely wonderful–and it filled her with the belief that maybe she could be the person he thought she was, that she could be the hero he believed she was.
And she couldn't help but feel like she'd let him down, like she'd broken that promise, like she'd failed him.
All because of her own pride and need for vengeance.
"Come on," Robin murmurs as his hand catches hers and gives it a tight squeeze. "Let's go get him."
She nods and draws in a breath, letting her eyes momentarily sink closed, and she hopes that it's not too late.
As they near, they can hear two voices arguing–voices they assume belong to the Tremaines–and she feels a twinge at her core. Robin takes her hand and leads her around the back of the cabin–and he rolls his eyes as he quips about how they hadn't even bothered to lock the deadbolt.
She tries to smile, but she can't–and her breath catches in her lungs as Robin slowly pushes open the door. For a moment, they linger there, listening. She watches as Robin sends a quick text–likely to Graham or the others–and once more she hopes that this won't somehow make it worse…
And then, almost as soon as they start forward, Robin holds up his hand and stops them.
"Did you hear that?" A man's voice says
"It's probably just the wind…"
"I know what the wind sounds like…"
"Sometimes cabin's like this just make noises," Henry says–and her heart swells at the sound of his voice. "It's because the ground underneath is moving."
"Always such a smart ass…"
Regina's eyes shift to Robin, watching as he readies his bow. She takes a breath and the tingling at her finger tip–and for the first time in longer than she can remember, she feels a warmth at her palm. Her thoughts shift to Henry and his sad scared eyes, and the tingling intensifies. Her jaw tightens as she thinks of how amazed he'd been by even the smallest of gestures and she thinks the little mentionings of neglect and abuse he casually tossed out as if they were nothing, as if they were normal–and as her eyes open she watches a little ball of fire rises up against her palm.
Robin's brow arches as he looks from her to fireball and back again–and then, a smile edges onto his lips, his eyes shining with a pride and confidence she wished she could feel.
"I think someone's here…"
"May I remind you, we're on private property and in the middle of nowhere and…"
Gold sighs with frustration as Robin and Regina take cautious steps forward, careful not to let the floorboards creak. "I can't help but feel like you're just avoiding the–"
"Did you lock the door?" Mrs. Tremaine snaps.
"Of course…"
"No, he didn't," Henry's voice cuts in.
"And how would you–"
"You didn't lock the deadbolt, and that's the real lock."
Regina watches a little grin edges onto Robin's lips–and it occurs to her that this is something Robin's taught her son and a for an all too brief moment, she's grateful for all of the Saturdays she's had to work, grateful for Robin's influence and the self-assurance it had instilled.
"How do you–"
"Everyone knows that," Henry cuts in–and it occurs to her that he doesn't sound afraid. "Just like everyone knows a slip knot isn't how you bind someone's wrists."
As they near, Regina watches as the Tremaine's exchange looks and Mr. Gold's eyes sink shut–and then, there's a mad dash toward Henry. Mr. Tremaine reaches him first, pulling him up from the chair and holding him back against his chest.
"Hurt him, and I will end you," Regina hears herself say, suddenly feeling a burst of confidence as her eyes meet Mr. Tremaine.
"Louie," Mrs. Tremaine sighs as he looks sharply toward Regina. "Ignore her. She's powerless."
"No, she's not," Henry says as his eyes meet hers. "She has magic."
"Not in this world," Gold interjects as his eyes shift and narrow Regina. "She's no one here."
"That's not true," Henry insists. "She's the Evil Queen and a hero."
"She can't be both. Not all magic is dark."
"This isn't that stupid wizard book that you–"
"I know," Henry cuts in, nodding as his eyes slide to Robin and Regina and a little grin edges onto his lips. "It's better."
Regina musters a smile as her eyes meet Henry's and she suddenly feels more determined than she was even a moment before. She can feel her magic bubbling up inside of her and she's ready for a fight–ready to prove that her magic doesn't have to be dark, ready to prove that she can be the hero her son believes she is. Taking a tentative step toward them, her eyes shift to Gold and Mrs. Tremaine and once more she feels that warm tingling at her fingertips. "So, you know," she says cooly at the realization that Gold has his memories, that he not only knows her as the mayor by as the Evil Queen. "You know who I am. You know the monster you made me into…"
A sinister little grin edges onto Gold's lips. "A necessary evil…"
She nods. "Maybe, but my son is right. I can be both the Evil Queen and a hero."
Gold laughs. "You're only as powerful as I allow."
"Interesting," Regina murmurs as she lifts her palm. "Because from where I'm standing you have no power, and I have it all." Her brow arches up as a small fireball lifts up over her palm. "Now, give me my son back."
"Louie, don't… don't listen to her," Mrs. Tremaine says, her voice cool. "We've come too far…"
Her eyes shift to Mr. Tremaine, watching his eyes widen. "Let him go, and you get to live."
"She's bluffing…"
"Am I?"
"And, even if she is," Robin cuts in as he steps forward and lifts his bow, steadying it against his shoulder. "I'm not. Let him go before I make you wish you had."
"And you are?"
"He's Robin Hood," Henry supplies, grunting as Mr. Tremaine's arm tightens around him.
"Someone who never misses a shot," Robin answers easily. "And someone who has everything you want." Gold's eyes narrow and Mrs. Tremaine turns sharply toward him as he pulls the bean from his pocket. "This is what you're after, right?" Gold's eyes widen as they focus on the bean at Robin's fingertips. "So, I suggest you take the easy route and let the boy go or you can be swallowed into an an unknown abyss to god-only-knows where."
"There is no easy route. None of this has been easy."
"No?" Regina asks, her eyes shifting to Gold. "So, a magic bean that opens up a portal to Neverland… or wherever you think you need to go, that's not the easy way?" Her eyes narrow as her heartbeat quickens as the dots start to connect she'd been unable to even see before. "Because the hard way would be manipulating someone into casting once-thought impossible curse, damning an entire population to an unknown realm just… just to… try to prove that you're not the coward that you are."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Gold returns.
"But the question is, why do you need them? What's in–" She stops as she looks between the Tremaines, and hatred practically seethes from her as she looks back to Gold. "Oh, I get it. Your son is in Neverland."
"And I won't let you of all–"
"Me," Regina cuts in, laughing in spite of it all. "You're right. You're not going to let me do anything because you can't." She shrugs as her eyes slide to Robin, still standing steadily beside her with his bow drawn up. "You're powerless. Just like you always have been. That's why you need these two…"
"You don't know what you're talking about…"
"No, I think I do. I'm not going to let you trade my son for yours."
At that, Mrs. Tremaine laughs. "As if that's the only trade…"
"Isn't it?"
"He's just one piece of it," Mrs Tremaine says in a cool even voice. "And I have worked too hard to get what I want out of this." She laughs as her shoulders square. "I remember you as a little girl, you know. So sickly sweet and stupidly brave…" She scoffs. "And those pathetic little notes you sent prove that you haven't changed much. If I didn't know better, I'd say you really spawned that little shit."
Regina's jaw tightens–and then, almost involuntarily her fingers begin to curl and she watches as Mrs. Tremaine swallows hard, her eyes falling to Regina's clenched fist. "I don't care about your goals or your motives. I don't care who you owe or what you think you deserve, but you will not use my son to get it."
"Careful, Regina," Mrs. Tremaine murmurs, her voice husky as Regina's fist tightens. "You might show him a side of yourself he can't forget…"
"Unless she casts another curse," Mr. Tremaine adds unnecessarily.
"Let him go…"
"Don't you dare, Louie. She's bluffing. She's all smoke and mirrors." She gasps as Regina's fist tights and momentarily, Regina's eyes slide to Henry, watching the way he's watching the scene unfold. Taking a breath, she grips harder and Mrs. Tremaine gasps as her feet start to lift from the ground. "You wouldn't," she insist as she struggles to keep her voice. "He'd never forget it. He'd never forgive it."
"Let him go."
For a moment, nothing happens. They're all at a stalemate–and then Gold, makes a move. He tries to prove his way out from around the table and before she can even consider what he's doing or why, Robin reaches into his pocket and tosses down the bean. A series of gasps ripple through the room as gust of air pushes through and the floor opens up, swirling wildly as a portal opens.
For a moment, Regina just stares at him. In all the years of the curse, he'd kept a low profile. He ran his shop and collected his rent, making threats and posturing his pseudo power, and just waiting it out. Deep down, she'd always knew that there was more to more to the curse than she was willing to admit–and though she believed for a short time it was her way of exacting vengeance, that it was her way of finding some semblance of happiness, it hadn't taken her very long to realize that wasn't at all the case.
She'd been played, and she was miserable.
When she looked in the mirror, she didn't recognize herself. In truth, it'd been a long time since she had–and when she tried to figure just where things had changed, when she'd changed, she couldn't help but remember those desperate moments when she'd summoned Rumplestiltskin in hopes of bringing back her one chance at love. He'd duped her them–making her believe it was possible, twisting her intentions and feeding her poisonous thoughts until she'd slowly but surely believed them.
He'd made her into someone she wasn't simply because he'd been too much of a coward to do his own bidding. She'd been his pawn–sometimes willing, sometimes not–and it'd been the insecurities he'd planted deep within her that kept her up at night, that told her she wasn't good enough, that told her she didn't know how to love. Those insecurities had become a part of her, they'd formed the Evil Queen. They'd forced her to give up Henry once and they'd forced the situation they were in now. Had not been for Rumplestiltskin the Tremaine's never would have found Henry, and they certainly wouldn't have the opportunity to use him as a bargaining chip.
Her jaw tightens as she watches the portal swirl, edging closer to where Gold stands–and then, a with a quick flick of her wrist, Gold's feet fall out from underneath him and tumbles into the portal. Regina's eyes widen as he falls, her heart skipping a beat as her stomach flops–and for a brief moment, she wonders if she went too far. But then, she feels a sense of relief wash over her. Her hands shake as she turns back to Mrs. Tremaine, arching her eyebrow and almost daring her to continue.
"You still think she's bluffing?" Robin asks as he looks to Mr. Tremaine who's still starting wide-eyed and slack-jawed at the portal. "Do you think I am?"
"Let my son go," Regina says in an even voice. "Or you can join the Dark One in Neverland with… who only knows what."
"I can't… we can't go there without…"
"Shut up," Mrs. Tremaine snaps, her voice strained. "Shut. Up."
"I don't think…"
"Jump," she yells. "Take the boy and jump. It's closing! This is the last chance!"
Regina's heart clenches as her eyes shift to Henry and before she can react, an arrow flies from Robin's bow, striking Mr. Tremaine's shoulder. He screams out and grasps at the arrow–and Henry slips free. He runs toward her she drops down to her knees. Her arms fold around Henry and everything else blurs away as he buries his face in the crook of her neck, and she's only vaguely aware of Mr. Tremaine stumbling back into portal and pulling his wife down with him.
The portal closes as their screams dull–and the cabin door opens.
"I knew you'd find me," Henry says, pulling back just enough to look at her. "You found my clue!"
"Robin did, actually," she says as tears well in her eyes. "How did you…"
Henry doesn't let her finish. Instead, he pushes himself forward and back into her arms. She pulls him up against her, cupping the back of his head as she tries to hold him as close to possible, and then as his lips press to her cheek–and, suddenly, everything feels different.
For a moment, everything stands still–frozen, static, and unchanging.
And then, reality bursts forward. Henry's kiss is like a shock–extending past the two of them and rippling out in the room. The lights flicker as a sudden gust of wind sweeps through the room, followed by a series of gasps from the doorway.
Henry pulls back, startled as he looks around them with wide eyes–and she feels a smile curl onto her lips as she slowly begins to understand what happened–that a true love's kiss has broken her curse, that her son's love for her was strong enough to undo the darkest and most powerful curse ever wielded.
"Henry," she breathes out, her voice catching in her throat. "Oh, my god, Henry. You did it!"
"Did… what?" He asks, swallowing hard as he looks around them. "What did I do?"
"You broke the curse," she tells him as she draws him back to her chest, holding him tightly as her heart races and she tries to focus on the fact that she has him back and that they can finally move forward. Her eyes close as tears well in her eyes, pushing out from the sides, as the rest of the world fades away…
XXXX
She'd only been vaguely aware of their audience–Ruby and Granny, Archie and Graham–all there to witness the breaking of the curse. She hadn't paid much attention to what happened immediately after, but Robin had huddled in the door with them for a long time–and finally, she'd heard Granny's voice insisting they should "let her alone" and give her a little space with her son. Graham had argued and Ruby grappled to understand–but somehow, Robin managed to convince them to let it go for the evening, promising that they'd deal with it in the morning and reminding them they all had a lot of catching up to do.
His arm had folded around her as he guided her and Henry back to the truck. Henry recovered quickly, chattering on at how brave he was because he knew she'd save him, and retelling all the details as if he hadn't been kidnapped at all, but had been on some grand adventure. She listened and nodded, but all the while, all she could think of was how close she'd come to losing him that day–how close she'd come to losing everything.
"I'm going to go upstairs and take a shower," Henry tells them as they step into the foyer. "I smell like smoke from the cabin."
"There are worse things to smell like," Robin teases as he tousels his hair.
Henry giggles a little and shrugs his shoulders and a moment later, he disappears up the stairs–and finally, Regina feels her shoulders slump forward as the emotion from the day finally catches up to her. Robin smiles as he turns toward her, folding his arms around her as he pulls her against his chest, and for just a moment, she lets herself melt into him.
"I can't believe it's over…"
"I know," he murmurs back. "Henry broke the curse. Who would have thought?"
"He's… he's kissed me before," she says in quiet voice. "I don't understand what was different about this time."
"Maybe it was just… the perfect mix of things."
"Maybe…" Taking a breath, she pulls back to look at him. "And now, I have to deal with it."
"And you will."
She nods. "I… half expected to be greeted at the door by an angry mob with… I don't know… pitchforks and torches, demanding I be burned at the stake or…"
"I think, right now, everyone's just… coming to terms with it."
"So, you're telling me I have something to look forward to?"
"Maybe," he murmurs back as a grin tugs up from the corner of his mouth. "But whatever happens, you won't deal with it alone." She nods and draws in a breath as his fingers rub absently at her hip. "You have Henry, and you have me, and you have Rol–"
"Oh, god, Roland," she breathes out, her throat suddenly dry at the thought of Roland knowing her true identity and being afraid of her. "He remembers–"
"He remembers… lots of nights sitting around campfires, telling stories and… swimming in rivers and…" Robin laughs as he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead. "He never knew you as the Evil Queen, so tomorrow, when you see him, he's going to look you the way he always has. You'll still be Henry's mom and my girlfriend, you'll still be the woman who can get him to eat strange food like red peppers and tofu… and you'll still be the woman who's given him the closest thing he's ever known to a mother's love."
"I don't think I could stand it if–"
"He won't fear you. I promise."
Nodding, she takes a step back in. "I thought he was supposed to be here, with John…"
"When we found Henry, John took him home. He thought it'd be better if–" His voice falters and she sighs with understanding. "Roland might not be afraid of you, but John is a little concerned about… well…"
Her brow arches. "Does he think I'll put a curse on you?"
"More like incinerate me."
"Ah…"
Robin shakes his head. "I could bring Roland back here and–"
"No," she says, taking a breath as she looks to the stairs, her thoughts shifting back to Henry. "No, you need to have some alone time with your son and… I think I need some alone time with mine."
"Okay," Robin nods. "I'll be over tomorrow morning and… we can make butterbeer pancakes for the boys and figure this thing out."
"Butterbeer pancakes…" she repeats, her brow arching. "That's…a very specific breakfast."
"It was the first thing that came to mind."
"That's odd."
"Well, I found this book and I thought the boys would get a kick…"
Shaking her head, she laughs. "Do I even want to know where you found it?"
"Probably not."
A slight grin edges onto her lips and for a moment, she's thankful for the normalcy of it. "So, butterbeer pancakes before the lynch mob arrives?"
Robin sighs. "There isn't going to be a lynch mob." Leaning in, he presses another kiss to her forehead. "Regina, if you need anything–or if you just want to talk or have someone talk to you until you fall asleep–call me. Don't hesitate."
"I will."
"Promise?" She nods. "Okay," he breathes out as he takes a half step back. "I love you…"
"I love you, too," she returns as he takes another, wider step back. "Thank you for… everything today. I don't think I could have–"
"You don't have to thank me," he cuts in. "Give Henry my love, alright?"
She nods. "I will."
He offers her a wink and wave before leaving, and from the window by the door, she watches as he pulls out of the driveway. Taking a breath, she locks the door and turns off the light, feeling vaguely dizzy as she considers what the next day will bring.
Ascending the stairs, she goes to her room and changes into a pair of pajamas before taking off her makeup–and somewhere in the process, she decides the best way to tackle whatever is coming at her is to do it head-on. She doesn't quite work out the details but by the time Henry turns off the shower, she's resolved to hold a town hall meeting the following afternoon.
"Mom?" Henry asks as he pokes his head into her room. "I know it's been kind of a long day, but… can you read to me tonight?"
"Of course," she breathes out as she looks at him through the mirror of her dressing table, smiling at new pair of pajamas featuring the Incredible Hulk flexing his muscles in various poses–a pair that Robin picked up the other day for both boys, insisting he couldn't pass up at buy-one, get-one sale.
Henry waits at the threshold and reaches for her hand, leading her to his bedroom. She watches as he climbs into his bed and situates himself, and she can't help but breathe out a sigh of relief when he reaches for Harry Potter instead of the leather bound storybook on his nightstand.
"I barely remember where we left off," she murmurs as she slides into bed beside him and watches as he opens the book toward the marked page. "It's been awhile."
"Yeah," he murmurs back as he looks down at the page. "C-can I ask you something?"
"Sure…"
"Am I going to school tomorrow?"
"Oh, well… I think a lot of people are going to be taking a few days off."
"Probably," Henry says, nodding as he looks back to the book. "It's probably for the best."
"A lot of people have… a lot to work through and figure out and…"
"And I'm supposed to have a math test tomorrow." She watches as a little grin edges onto his lips and a soft chuckle bubbles up from her core as she bends her head to kiss the top of his head. "So… you… you really have magic." She nods as he looks up at her. "That's… really cool."
"It can be."
"Can be?"
"Well, it can be dangerous, too."
"Like what happened at the cabin?"
"Yeah, exactly," she murmurs back, taking a breath as she combs her fingers through his wet hair. "Did you… want to talk about that? Maybe instead of reading?"
For a moment, Henry hesitates and then, he closes the book in his lap. "Where did they go?"
"Neverland, I think…"
"Like, as in, Peter Pan?" She nods and a little grin edges back onto his lips. "Maybe the crocodile will eat them."
"That's… a possibility."
"Are there stories about Neverland in that book?"
"I don't know," she answers. "There could be. We could look…"
"Maybe later…" Henry murmurs back. "I just… wondered what happened to them."
"Are you… upset that…"
"No," he cuts in, shaking his head as his eyes meet hers. "I'm glad they're somewhere else."
"They are… definitely somewhere else."
"And they can't come back?" She shakes her head and Henry takes a breath. "Good." For a moment, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he just nuzzles back against her. Her arm stretches around his shoulders and she cuddles him close, and for awhile, it feels like he's drifting to sleep. "Mom, can I ask you something else?"
"Sure…"
"Can you…do magic tricks and stuff?"
Blinking, she lifts her head. "Magic tricks?"
"Yeah, like… you know… the cool stuff magicians do."
"Well, I've… never tried to pull a rabbit out of a hat or pull a bouquet of flowers from my sleeve, but I do know a few tricks."
Henry brightens and her chest tightens as he smiles. "Can you show me one?"
"You… want me to do a magic trick?" He nods and she sighs, her heart fluttering as she tries to think of something as he sits up and watches her expectantly. "Okay, well… I am a bit rusty," she murmurs as she pulls away from him and sits up a little straighter, drawing in a long breath as she brings her hand up, curling it toward herself as her closes and she conjures the image of a cupcake–and then, once she has it, she blows the tips of her fingers, slowly opening her eyes as her hand uncurls.
Henry gasps as the cupcake appears, hovering over her flattened palm. "Wow… is it… is it real?"
"Take it," she tells him. "See for yourself."
Slowly, he reaches out, gasping a little as his fingers come into contact with a very real and very large cupcake. "This is amazing," he whispers as he examines it. "It's real!"
"I know."
"Can I eat it?"
Laughing she nods, flicking her wrist and shrinking it down to a bite-size version. "Now you can."
Henry blinks. "I'm not even mad that you made it into a littler one! That's so cool that you can shrink things!" She laughs a little as Henry bites into the cupcake, his eyes widening as he looks up at her, looking stunned and amazed that it's real. Shaking her head, she wipes a little frosting from the corner of his mouth and he giggles as he settles back against his pillow. "What else can do you?"
"Well… I'm a little bit rusty, but I can do all sorts of things."
Henry nods and takes another, smaller bite of the cupcake. "Can you enchant stuff?" She nods as his eyes shift to hers and she can see the excitement beginning to bubble up behind his eyes. "So, you could… make all my action figures come alive and they could–"
"How about we discuss that another time," she cuts in, chuckling softly at his excitement as she thinks of the absolute chaos that would ensue if she brought his action figures to life and allowed them to battle bad guys and… do whatever it was that an eight-year-old imagined his action figures could do. "It's late," she adds as she stretches her arm across his shoulders. "So, how about we save some excitement for tomorrow and do a little bit of reading before bed."
"We have had a lot of excitement today," Henry tells her, his voice suddenly calmer and sincere as he pops the remainder of the cupcake into his mouth. "I'm glad I'm home now."
"I am, too."
"I know I said I was brave, but…" Henry's voice trails off as he cuddles into her and he takes a breath. "What they wanted to do sounded really scary."
"I bet it did," she murmurs as her chest clenches and she momentarily thinks of what might have happened had Robin not found Henry's drawing or had she listened to Graham's advice and just gone home. "But it's over now, and… what they wanted to happen didn't happen." She takes a breath and pushes away the thoughts, reminding herself not to dwell on what didn't happen or what might have happened and to focus on the here and the now. "Okay," she murmurs as she draws in a long breath and lets a smile pull onto her lips. "How about a little more Harry Potter?" Henry nods as she reaches for the book and her heart skips a beat as he cuddles closer and waits patiently for her to begin.
And for just a little while, everything feels completely normal again. Henry laughs as they read a section about Fred and George Weasley's joke shop and she doesn't think about what the next day will bring them–she doesn't think about how angry people are going to be or how she'll possibly defend the things she's done; and when Henry nuzzles closer to her as Harry prepares to return to the Dursley's for yet another summer, she finds herself smiling softly as a sort of serenity washes over her, and she finds herself thinking–in a fleeting, passing thought–that everything will work itself out, however it's meant to.
