Have some reunion fluff to get you through the hellatus.
She's made it.
Everything she's done in the past year has led her here, with Emma and Henry by her side, and an amulet to keep Tinkerbell's magic from losing its effects upon leaving their Storybrooke bubble. She had not planned it, had not even dared to believe she could manage this, let alone succeed, but she had.
They never found the author, but the author found them, and had dropped hints and clues and items that would help them on their way, help them free the people trapped in the hat, help them defeat the three scorned witches that had made their way into their world and attempted to destroy it.
In the end, the author had left Regina one last gift, one last item, a black gem resting right on top of the very page she had ripped to shreds at the town line. The picture of them, of the meeting that never was, had sat there, pristine and intact, as if her turning it into pieces and letting them fly away like she did her hope had never happened.
The gem was small, glowing with light as it rested on top of the page. It looked like the author had taken one of the stars from the constellations embedded in the hat and turned it into a solid weight for her to keep in her hand. The second she'd touched it, Regina had known what it could do, had felt the stone's power and the way it wielded it, as the author certainly knew she would.
Recruiting Tinkerbell to help had taken all of two seconds, and with her and her pixie dust as a tether to the town line, Regina had ventured outside Storybrooke, the gem in her hand allowing her to keep the magic of the town with her so that she could return when her mission was complete.
Thanks to the stone, Tinkerbell had been able to project her pixie dust spell past the town line, and they'd followed its glowing trail here, to a dingy bar just two towns over.
The pub is called XXIII, and it's decorated to look like an old tavern. The irony makes Regina roll her eyes, silently cursing the author for having such a sick sense of humor, but then she's at the door, and the sense of deja vu overwhelms her, quickens her shallow breaths. So many years ago, she had done the same, followed a trail of pixie dust to some random pub and found her soul mate, only to run away before she even met him. Today, if Tink's magic had done its thing again, that very same soul mate was sitting inside this other bar, with his lion tattoo on display, maybe sipping a drink, maybe even thinking of her –that's it, that's the one sliver of hope Regina will allow herself to have until this all becomes real- and the love that they shared.
Yes, years ago she'd run away from the possibility of a happy ending with him, and now that she's been given a second chance, now that she's about to believe that for once, things will go her way, she's scared, and she hesitates, turning back and wanting to run, just like she had the first time.
But the first time she'd been alone, now she has Henry and Emma, both looking at her with knowing smiles on their faces as her son gives her an encouraging nudge in the direction of the pub and urges her to enter.
"This is your happy ending, mom, go get it," he says, and she laughs, because in his innocence, he really does think it's that easy for her to simply walk in and see this man she hasn't set eyes on in a year, this man that may have already moved on from their love affair that never got a chance to be, this man that left and took her darkened, hopeful heart with him.
"I don't know if I can," she says to the boy, and Henry frowns at her, scrunches up his nose in a gesture that eerily resembles her even though they don't share genetics.
"It's what you wanted, the author led us here, Robin is inside, now go see him," her son insists, and it's the first time she's heard Robin's name spoken aloud since they embarked on this journey, and somehow the realization that this is actually happening sinks in deeper, and she withdraws her hand from the heavy door she'd been about to push open.
"I'm afraid," she finally admits, and the trembling quality to her voice has Henry hurrying to her and wrapping his arms around her middle in a tight hug.
"I understand, but he loves you, and you deserve to be loved, mom. You deserve to be happy, you just have to believe."
There is so much hope shining in his eyes that she can feel hers watering at the sight. He's asking her to embrace this, to believe in her own redemption, in her happy ending, and so she does. Because she does deserve it, has proved it time and again to herself and everyone else, because Robin is her soul mate, and she is his, because he loved her, because he'd looked into her eyes without a hint of hesitation and he'd chosen her.
"Go get 'im, tiger," Emma winks as she loops an arm around Henry's shoulders, "we'll be out here if you need us."
Regina thanks them both, takes a deep breath as she gives the stone to Henry, and walks into the bar after self-consciously fixing her coat.
It takes her a few seconds to find him in the crowd, but then she sees it, the green glow of Tinkerbelle's pixie dust covering him like a halo that only she can see, and her breathing falters as she moves towards him. He's sitting at the bar, sipping a whiskey with his back to her, and there's a pretty blonde waitress trying to flirt with him, and he smiles softly and sends her on her way with a shake of his head, turning back to his drink. The hunch on his shoulders, the defeated way he hangs his head, they are signs that he's miserable, frustrated and sad as she was until this exact moment. Her stomach is in knots, her nerves playing with her sanity until she's right behind him. He feels her presence, or at least a presence, because he starts shaking his head again as he slowly turns to face her.
"I told you, I'm not inter—," the word dies on his tongue, eyes going wide when they find her standing there, smiling shyly at him.
"Not interested, then, huh?" she quips, quoting the statement that seems to have flown right out of his head as he stares and stares at her, his mouth opening and closing repeatedly.
"Regina?" he finally whispers, as if using his voice at regular volume will make her disappear. And she has longed for this, yearned so much for her name to fall from his lips again that she gasps when it happens.
"Hi," she says nervously after taking a few seconds to compose herself, tucking her hair behind her ear as she looks down, then back at him.
He's stunned as he stands from the barstool, closes his eyes and moves his head quickly from side to side, like he's trying to erase the image of her from his mind, then glares at his whiskey like it is the culprit behind his hallucination, and she gives him a watery chuckle and moves just a little closer, enough for her knuckles to brush over his scruffy cheek and assure him through her touch that she really is there.
His hand darts up to hold hers then, and he has yet to utter a word beyond the shocked whisper of her name, and suddenly he's grabbing her face and planting his lips on hers with that same urgency as he had during their tearful goodbye. He pulls back after a moment, then proceeds to drop desperate kisses all over her face, covering her cheeks and brow and nose with them, tears falling from his eyes.
"You're here," he says brokenly as he rests his forehead against hers, and she can't help it, she beams tearfully at him as she nods, and he grins right back as he threads a hand in her hair.
"There it is," he breathes as he stares at her smile, echoing a sentiment long ago confessed during a blissful moment in her vault. He's looking at her like she's a bright light in his sea of darkness, and the way his eyes sparkle with moisture has tears of her own rolling down her cheeks, and they're both a blubbering mess as they whisper sweet nothings to each other and suddenly she's laughing at the silliness of it all.
"Gods, how I've missed you," he says, and his voice is shaky as he holds on to her, his breath shuddering as he pulls her impossibly closer, burying his face in the crook of her neck and dropping kiss after kiss there, humming in satisfaction when her fingers start to play with his hair and scratch lightly at his scalp, and then she listens as he vows over and over that he'll never walk away, never let go.
And he doesn't, not ever again.