He'd left her standing in the cellar holding onto a bottle of wine, and feeling like an absolute fool.

Of course, she couldn't blame him, especially not after what he'd overheard between her and Leopold… but still, she'd hoped that he'd stay, if only so that she didn't have to spend the night alone.

She returned the bottle to its place in the crate and made her way upstairs, shivering at the eerie quiet.

Giving the household staff the night off seemed like a brilliant idea when she planned it; after all, she was gearing up for a big fight with Leopold and she knew that. Inevitably, there would be things said that she didn't want repeated. She wasn't sure who among the house staff enjoyed leaking tidbits of information about her to whomever would listen—and truly, she couldn't understand why anyone cared to hear any of it—but she'd long ago stopped trying to figure it out. So, in moments where she couldn't afford an audience, the staff found themselves with an unexpected night off. It was simply easier this way, and though blowups between her and Leopold couldn't always be predicted, this tactic could at least curb the frequency of the stories that would inevitably be spun.

But that afternoon it had worked.

Preemptively, she'd breezed into the servants hall, spinning a story about uncharacteristically forgetting dinner plans with an unnamed friend. No one asked for more details and no one pointed out the fragility of her story—they had no reason to. So, instead of beginning to prepare dinner, they prepared for a night out.

She'd picked this particular night with purpose. Mary Margaret was set to have dinner with David Nolan and his mother, and Leopold had post-dinner plans, so if the conversation went awry (as she knew that it would), it wouldn't drag on and on through the night. It was the perfect opportunity to bring up Henry coming home for Christmas.

It'd been more than a year since she'd seen her son, and phone calls between them were few—school policy dictated that—and though they wrote letters, Henry was still too young to write a proper letter with any sort of regularity. Most of her communication with Henry came through Mal—and for that, she was eternally grateful—but still, it did nothing to dull the ache that now permanently resided in her chest.

Going into the conversation, she had expected a lacklustre response from her husband; after all, he'd never had much interest in Henry. At least on some level (as he'd never gotten confirmation otherwise), Leopold believed that Henry was his son, so she hoped that she could appeal to him as a parent—and if not as Henry's parent, as Mary Margaret's, as there wasn't anything that Leopold wouldn't do for his daughter.

Mary Margaret had always been fond of her baby brother, and annoying as it was when Henry was a baby, Mary Margaret wanted to be involved in every detail of his life. From feedings to diaper changes to playing with him for hours on end, Mary Margaret was exuberantly there. She'd been devastated when Henry went off to school and still kept in touch with her brother through occasional letters. So when Regina first decided that she wanted Henry to come home for the holidays, she planted the seeds with Mary Margaret.

With her step-daughter as her ally, she'd gone into the conversation hopeful—but quickly, her hopes were slashed. Leopold scoffed at the mere idea; she hadn't even had the chance to bring up how happy Mary Margaret would be to see him or that it was their last Christmas together before Mary Margaret got married and started a family of her own.

Her ears rang and her cheeks were hot, her jaw clenched and her hands balled into fists as she willed herself not to cry. Petulantly, she'd suggested that she could go to Henry, and again, Leopold dismissed the idea. She hated him and in that moment, she could feel that hatred eating away at her core—but she was trapped. There wasn't anything she could do or say to change it—and he knew that. He'd been so smug as he left her, knowing that he'd gotten under her skin and knowing that he'd won.

Reaching the top of the stairs, she looks down the hall toward her bedroom, thinking a bath might be a nice way to take the edge off of her mood—but that also sounds like a reward she hasn't quite earned.

So, instead, she turns in the opposite direction, making her way toward Leopold's study where the household phone resided. Taking in a labored breath, she sat down, momentarily hesitating to look at the clock on the wall—it was just after midnight which meant that it was just past four in the morning in London. Mal would be asleep. After a few minutes of debate, she picked up the phone and asked the operator for a connection to London—and all the while, she held her breath at the thought of being alone with her thoughts if Mal didn't answer.

To her relief, Mal did answer—albeit groggily—and for the next half an hour or so, she recaps her fight with Leopold. Every now and then, she could hear Mal on the other line, starting to say something, then stopping, or making little noises to express her loathing of Leopold. For the most part, though, she just let her vent. And really, that's what she needed—someone to simply listen.

"I don't understand. Regina, you have money. You're richer than that bastard. You can just—"

"No," she cut in. "You're blissfully unaware of the rules of marriage."

"Enlighten me."

Regina sighs. They've been through this before; but rules were never Mal's strong suit. So, again, Regina explained that when they married, her wealth became Leopold's. It all sat in a vault at the bank that he personally oversaw, and his signature was required to access it. If Leopold said she could dip into it, for any reason, she could. But if he said she couldn't, his word was final.

"You know I'll give Henry a happy Christmas," Mal says, her voice gentler than it was before. "He—"

"What if he can't come to you?"

"Why couldn't he? He always does for school breaks."

"Leo mentioned something about him needing extra tutoring."

"It's not Catholic school. Those teachers will go home for the holiday, too."

"Perhaps—"

"The headmaster likes me. I'll talk to him."

Pressing her eyes closed, Regina nods and draws in a shaky breath. "I hate this arrangement."

"I know you do."

"When I picked that school, I thought—"

"We both did."

"Well, you might, but—" Her voice stops as she thinks about Henry and the morning she'd left him at the school, promising to visit often and promising that he'd have so many friends and adventures, he'd barely have time to miss her. "What if he thinks I don't lo—"

"Don't you dare say that, Regina," Mal warns. "Henry knows you love him."

She doesn't reply. She's not so sure that he does.

"Regina. He knows."

"Well, regardless, I just… figured I'd let you know that you don't have to buy a ticket or—"

"I could still buy him a ticket. Leopold Blanchard doesn't control my money."

She smiles a bit wistfully at that. She'd considered asking. "But what would Henry be coming home to? A father who would prefer he not be there?" She can hear Mal's voice hitch at the back of her throat, biting back her words. "It just… wouldn't be fair to Henry. He'd pick up on the tension."

"Arthur is coming to visit. He leaves on Tuesday."

"He told me," Regina says. "I was planning on packing up a trunk of things for Henry to send—"

"You could put yourself in a trunk," Mal says, sounding both playful yet serious. "He'd let you out as soon as you boarded the ship. You wouldn't be stuck in there the whole voyage."

At that, Regina can't help but laugh. "That's… ridiculous and it'd absolutely get him kicked off the ship."

"Suppose you just had to stay in the trunk until you got to the dock, and he actually had a boarding pass waiting for you. That could—"

"You're very attached to this odd plan."

Mal laughs. "This is what you get for calling at such an ungodly hour."

"Fair."

"When did you last see Henry?" she asks, shifting the conversation.

"Last Saturday."

"How was he?"

"Happy," Mal says gently. "You weren't wrong in assuming he'd be surrounded by friends."

She smiles, but her throat tightens. "That's… that's good."

"He taught me how to play this card game one of his friends taught him where you have to grab cards quickly. I think I jammed my finger."

Again, she smiles as tears well in her eyes. "Did he… mention me? Or—"

Mal sighs. "I mentioned you."

"And?"

"We made a Christmas card for you. He wrote a sweet little note."

"Well, I'll be eagerly awaiting that." There's a long pause between them after that, and she can tell there's something that Mal isn't saying. "I made up a care package the other day. I found a copy of Treasure Island and I bought him some winter things—a hat, a scarf, and some gloves—and I want to get some of that hot chocolate he likes so much. I'm hoping to mail it next week." Drawing in a breath, she thinks of the note she nearly wrote, alluding to the possibility of the visit she'd been so sure that she could arrange. "I know it's not the same as—"

"He's used to this arrangement. All his friends are in similar situations."

"Are they?" she scoffs. "His friends have fathers who want nothing to do with them?"

"Well, to be frank, Henry's not exactly in that situation, either, is he?" Mal sighs. "What I meant is that none of his friends have very much contact with their families during the school year. He doesn't feel different or realize there's anything unusual about his circumstances."

Regina swallows the lump at the back of her throat. "You know, it's probably selfish to say—"

"Something tells me that it's not."

"I… I know that Henry's okay where he is. He's well cared for at that school, and he has you nearby. He's always telling me about his friends and teachers, and though I'm not at all convinced that this whole arrangement isn't going to result in him hating me later on in life, I can concede that it's working right now."

"But?"

"But, I just… Mal I am so lonely. I miss him so much."

"Of course you do."

"Henry was… well he's all I had."

"You have me."

"And you're not here."

"You have Arthur. He's your friend."

"He tolerates me because he's afraid of you."

"So?"

"It's not the same."

"I'll let him know he has to do a better job of faking it."

Regina laughs softly and shakes her head. "Perhaps if Arthur were around more, I wouldn't be throwing myself at Leopold's…uh, supplier."

She bites down on her lip, suddenly very aware that their line is not secure and any operator could be listening in. And while her dirty laundry is bad enough, she wouldn't want to out Robin or say anything that could get him into serious trouble.

"Leo's supplier?"

"Yes, um… you know how he loves to throw parties. It's insane how much… shrimp and caviar we go through."

"Ah, of course," Mal murmurs, clearing her throat. "But that's not the part that I needed clarity on, Regina." She pauses as if waiting for the details to be filled in, but when Regina offers nothing in reply, she sighs loudly. "You said something about throwing yourself at him?"

"That… might be a little strong."

"Explain."

Regina feels her cheeks warm. "I asked him to stay for… a bite to eat. I knew he wouldn't. I'm not even sure why I asked. Apparently, I enjoy the embarrassment of being rejected."

"Rejected? Regina, that is probably a little strong, too."

Regina's eyes roll. "I… was pathetic."

"Can you, perhaps, tell me what happened without the self-deprecation? It's far too early to splice apart the story from your own, and likely inaccurate, interpretation of it."

"I told you. I asked him to stay for a bit. He declined."

"But you wanted him to stay."

"I wouldn't have asked him if I didn't."

"Why?"

Biting at her bottom lip, Regina curls the phone cord between her fingers. "I… don't understand what you're asking exactly."

"Why did you want him to stay? You usually steer clear of anyone having anything to do with Leopold."

"He's… different."

"Is he now?" Mal laughs, obviously amused. "Tell me more."

"There's nothing to tell."

"Is he cute?"

"Mal, we're not twelve—"

"People over the age of twelve do still have the ability to notice another person's attractiveness. In fact, I'd say that after the age of twelve, that ability gets a bit sharper."

"Mal—"

"Your hesitation tells me that you do find him attractive."

"Well yes, but—"

"What's attractive about him?"

Regina's eyes roll and her cheeks flush, and possibly for the first time since Robin left, she's glad that there's no one around to see her blushing like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush. "He… smells like forest."

Mal laughs out in a burst, and in spite of herself, Regina can't help but smile. "Oh my god—"

"He does! And it's… quite pleasant, actually."

From there, she goes into a full recap, recounting her first few interactions with Robin Locksley—from her snapping at him on the first meeting to the letter of apology that he'd written to her. At that, she hears Mal laugh a little, but she continues on, explaining that there's just something about him that she likes. It's probably that he was willing to challenge her and it's probably also in part that each time they've interacted, they've started with a clean slate. He doesn't seem to be keeping score and he doesn't seem to be overly influenced by what he thinks he knows about her—and she'd realized that night that he treats her like a person, not a possession or a bother, and that was something so incredibly rare. Her stomach flutters as she moves on from the heavier details of their interactions to tell Mal about Robin's curly-haired, dimple-cheeked little boy and what a good father Robin seems to be.

"I don't quite know why I'm so drawn to him, but—"

"I do," Mal says flatly. "He's the anti-Leopold."

Regina's eyes narrow with curiosity. "What?"

"He's everything that your husband isn't."

She hadn't really considered it that way, but it did make sense; after all, it was that same notion that initially drew her to Daniel—and upon that realization her mood fell.

She doesn't respond to Mal's observation, instead letting herself get lost in her own thoughts.

There was no denying that she was lonely. That's what initially drew her to Daniel and now, that was what was driving her to Robin. The difference was that she now recognized the pattern. Daniel had been fully aware of what it would mean to be involved with a married woman, but they'd been naive to think things could end well for them. The rules that bound her to her husband were cruel, but clear. She didn't have a way out, and fate didn't hesitate to remind her of that.

"Regina? Are you still on the line?"

"Yes."

She hears Mal swallow. "So, are you going to… have a second go at inviting him to stay the next time you see him? You obviously like him, and it doesn't sound like he rejected you. It just sounds like tonight didn't work out. Sometimes things don't when they're spur of the moment. Maybe something more planned out—"

"I'm married."

"So?"

"Mal—"

"All the women I date are married."

"That's different."

"Is it?"

"Of course it is."

"It's only different because you think you deserve to be lonely."

There's a long pause.

It's not untrue, but she isn't the only person who mattered—and besides that the idea of a love affair was all in her head. Or maybe it was in Mal's. Regardless, though, it didn't matter. It wasn't real.