This was something I needed to write for myself. I don't know if the rumors are true, but I needed to pour this out.
- After his death. Written after 5.14. Regina's POV.
And live through your love
Weep not, child,
Weep not, my darling,
With these kisses
Let me remove your tears.
(Walt Whitman)
.
I have yet to shed a tear.
From the moment the light left his eyes, and I was on the ground, clinging to his body, screaming Don't leave me, don't you dare, I have yet to shed a tear.
I remember myself shaking him, pressing kisses on his lips, Please, please, make it work, but it was like with Daniel, it doesn't work for me.
It works for the Charmings, for Rumple and Belle, for Aurora and Phillip – for Anastasia and Will, Belle has told me once, – for Emma and Killian, but it doesn't work for me.
For those who dared to love me.
I remember David pulling me up, and I was sobbing, punching his chest, Regina, he's gone, but I wasn't crying.
I remember screaming to the sky, Why, why always me – why always the men I love, but I am sure, I haven't spilled a tear.
Maybe I have fainted. The black oblivion was better than my reality.
I woke up in my bed. I bet David put me there. I woke up with a silken camisole. I bet Snow dressed me.
I am a walking corpse. I am awake, I respond to the questions: I nod or I shake my head.
It can't be. Not again.
I am a zombie. I don't care about anything.
There's always someone with me, always. Usually, it's Snow, or Mal. Sometimes Emma, or Henry. They are worried. The Regina they know would have set the world on fire, to have her love back. Damn it, I've tried to resuscitate Daniel, when I was young. I've begged the Dark One to save Robin, in Camelot, and Regina Mills doesn't beg.
I know they are worried. Because I'm not doing anything, at all.
I have lost hope.
Oh, I know, I am the most resilient of them all. But sometimes, it's too much. There's a certain amount of pain a heart can tolerate.
I have left my heart in my chest. I have left it there, because I deserve this pain.
It's all my fault.
All magic comes with a price, dearie.
Emma saved Robin, dark magic has a price, and here comes the fury. The fury attacks, we defeat it. But there are consequences. And now he's dead, and it's my fault.
He's dead because Percival stabbed him, he stabbed him, but he wanted to kill me. He wanted to kill the Evil Queen.
"Why did you do that?" I ask him, we are lying on our bed in Camelot, my pink dress is forgotten on the ground. "Well, I couldn't let you go," he answers, like it is obvious, and I shake my head and kiss him, he's okay, thanks to the gods, thanks to Emma. He's okay.
The funeral is two days later.
I woke up screaming at five in the morning, Mal is sitting on the rocking chair, next to the bed. She doesn't say a word, she just gets up and sits on the bed, she embraces me. I'm sobbing, but I'm not crying. She caresses my hair, and at some point, I stop.
She makes me get up, without a word.
Oh, I have yet to spill a tear, and I have yet to say a word. From the moment I woke up, after fainting. When I woke up, I have extended an arm towards his side of the bed, and reality has fallen upon me. My lips are closed.
She brings me to the bathroom, makes me sit on the toilet bowl, she makes the water run in the bathtub. She undresses me, but without any trace of lust or need. Just kindness. I sit in the water, and it's too hot, but I don't care. I'll burn. She washes my hair, and she's startled when I make a movement. I point at one of the bottles. I don't speak.
She was about to take his shampoo, but I point her mine. I can't use his. She pours the liquid on my hair, and the lavender smell fills the air, she starts to rub gently.
The water runs on my skin, but I feel dirty.
Roland has lost his parents because of me. Because of the Evil Queen.
The innocent, nameless baby girl has lost her parents because of me. Her father is dead. And her mother is gone.
"Last time, I didn't believe in myself, but now I do," I tell Zelena with a smug grin. Oh, how I've fooled myself. The wand needs dark magic to work. When I've tried to use it, to find Emma, it didn't work, because finding Emma was the right thing to do, was light. But when I've used it to banish Zelena, it worked. My dark heart did all the job. Separating a mother from her child, was something the Evil Queen was used to do.
Mal is washing my back, and I just rest my chin on my knees. I wait.
She helps me get up on my feet, I feel the chilly air on my bare skin. The bathrobe is warm and soft, but I don't care, I don't want comfort.
This kind of grief is different. When Daniel died, I let my rage consume me. I've become my rage. I've addressed it to Snow, it was all I could think about, because thinking about something that wasn't my revenge was too painful. I've focused on that. When I've lost Henry, during the Missing Year, I've focused on taking down my sister.
Something to live for.
My words from that evening in my vault, when he helped me breaking in, ring in my head. Yes, I have something to live for. I have a family, I have Henry. But I haven't someone to live with anymore. That is why I've let myself react in this way. I know I can. This time, there is someone who is taking care of me. I can let myself become a walking corpse. I have someone to support me. But someone to fill my soul and my body, I'll never have again. Not like that.
Mal is brushing my hair, drying it. I couldn't care less about the way she's combing my locks, about the way she's applying the concealer under my eyes, trying to cover the deep, blue signs of the sleep deprivation. I look into the mirror, I see myself, but I feel like I'm fluctuating outside of my body.
"It happens," Belle's voice, gentle, comes to my ears, I'm sitting on the couch, staring at the floor, I'm not talking. "I've made some researches," she explains to Snow. Everyone is concerned, why I've stopped talking. "It happens, when a soulmate dies. It's like half of her soul… is gone," she says, and yes, that would explain the void I feel inside of my chest.
Mal brings me back to my room, she opens the closet. She turns towards me – I'm just standing in the middle of the carpet, not a movement, not a word. I don't care about my dress, or my shoes.
She has finally chosen a black dress. I just put my arms up, and the dress slides easily, I'm thinner now. I had started to gain some weight in Camelot, but I've lost it all.
I've lost all I had.
The full-length mirror reflects a beautiful woman, with raven hair –long and loosely curled –bare lips, thick eyelashes. The elegant, black dress hugs her body. Mal passes me a pair of heels – I don't protest, I just slip on them, and now I'm taller. It was the right height to kiss him.
She brings me downstairs, and Snow is already there. The bath was long, it's seven in the morning. Snow is making breakfast. Mal makes me sit on a chair, and I have a plate in front of me – sliced apples, two eggs, toasted bread. A glass of juice.
I just stare at it. I can't eat. I'm not even hungry.
There are things I should ask, where are the children, who told Roland about his father, how is my niece. There's a tiny part of me that cares. But I can't speak.
Mal is eating, she's talking with Snow. I listen, but it's like I'm watching from a distance. There's a one-way mirror between us.
"Is she better?" asks Snow, and Mal shakes her head, she gulps down her bite. "She hasn't spoken yet," she says.
I hear Snow sighing; I fix my eyes on my glass. My throat hurts, but I don't drink. After an undetermined period of time, they take my untouched plate, they make me get up, put my coat on.
The air is cold, outside. It's about to rain. We walk towards a car, I don't know whose car, I climb inside. David is driving, he greets me, I don't answer. The car ride is short. We are at the cemetery in minutes, and I walk on the stone tiles, I walk past my vault.
"My mind was in the forest, but my heart took me here"
"Today is not one of those days"
"The best… sleep… I've had in a very long time"
"If we don't leave this room, I think it still counts as the first time, don't you?"
Half of the city is gathered under the highest oak.
I could have worn sunglasses, to hide my red eyes, to hide myself, but no, let them see. Let them see how the mighty has fallen.
Henry is there, with Roland, Emma has my niece in her arms. She meets my gaze, and she's the first to divert it. Killian is standing next to her, and I look at them. The unfairness of seeing them together might crush me. I move my eyes to Henry, he has a sad smile on his lips, I join him.
"Hi, mom," he whispers, and I just squeeze his arm.
"Gina," a pleading voice comes from below, and I lower my eyes. It's Roland, my sweet, little Roland, eyes shining with tears, and I scoop him in my arms. Someone must have explained him why I don't talk.
Finally, I look at the grave. The hole.
Archie is talking, I don't even hear his words, I focus on Roland's weight on my hip.
My eyes lift and wander around – I don't want to watch the coffin, or the tombstone. I see his Merry Men, John's eyes are puffy. There are the dwarves, and Granny, and Ruby – when has she come back? – and Rumple, next to Belle. Mal and Lily. Queen Guinevere, dressed with a borrowed skirt and not the purple medieval dress. Her husband is in jail, she's free from the spell. The girl Henry likes, that I have yet to meet. Merida, she has too a new black dress.
Why do I care?
The air smells like him. I could cry. I won't.
There's silence now, I haven't listened to a word. Maybe they expect me to say something. I won't.
I put Roland on the ground again.
They lower the coffin, and I can't think about his body. I should focus on other things. I start calculating all the days we spent together.
The missing year, but we weren't together. Not like this. The afternoon at the barn. The evening when I gave him my heart. The night of our first kiss. The morning of the day Henry remembered. The day Neal was born and I defeated my sister. The lunch in front of the fireplace, drinking wine. The night in my vault. The night at the library. Six weeks alone. The walk in the moonlight. The ball. Six weeks in Camelot. Some weeks in Storybrooke. Some days in the Underworld. Stop.
So much for a happy ending.
Henry hands me the shovel, I approach to the hole. The dust falls on the clean wood. I pass the shovel to Snow, in silence.
I'm waiting for this to be over.
The ritual is about to end. They are going away, after one last look at the grave. There's only my family left, watching from a distance. I don't move. I know they're starting to leave.
Roland comes next to the grave, he presses a kiss on his fingers, he presses his fingers on the stone. "Goodbye," he whispers.
Henry takes his hand, he rubs my shoulder, I don't look at him, but I hear his words. They are going. I need a moment alone.
Then, I hear an unexpected voice.
"Regina," a thick Scottish accent, and I turn slightly my head. Merida approaches, she has her fist closed. "I… wanted to give you this," she opens her palm, and my heart skips a beat. I recognize that tiny bottle. The magical ale from DunBroch.
I can talk to him.
I meet her eyes, and somehow I know: she has lost someone too. I nod, and she smiles. I close my hand above hers, I take the bottle. I'm watching the stone again, I hear her leaving.
I am alone.
My finger are shaking as I pull the cap, I overturn the bottle and the ale spills free. I close my eyes. If it doesn't work. If it doesn't work. I hope with every fiber of my being.
I wait.
"Regina".
Oh, his voice. I keep my eyes closed. His voice is enough.
I feel a pressure on my shoulder. I open my eyes – he's here.
He's really here.
A sob escapes me. "Robin," I whisper, and it hurts, I haven't used my voice in days. I clear my throat, "Robin," I repeat, and finally, finally, the tears are falling. He pulls me against his body, and we crash our bodies together, I clench his jacket with my fists, my head on his shoulder. I take a breath, I take in his smell. I want this, all of this, I want to remember his voice, his scent, the way he's holding me.
His fingers are between my hair, as always, and he's kissing my neck, he's whispering, It's all right, don't worry.
I pull back, holding him with my arms, I hate that he has to see me like this.
I have so much to say, so little time.
I start from the most pressing subject.
"I'm sorry," I tell him, and he shakes his head, "because this is all my fault," and he presses a kiss on my lips to shush me.
"Regina, it's not your fault, okay?" I shake my head too, and he lifts my chin, I meet his eyes. "Never, never think this was your fault again, did you understand me?" I can only nod, and he smiles.
"Where are you?" I ask him, and my heart is racing, is he in the Underworld? Is he in Hell?
He smiles, he holds a hand on my cheek. "I am in a good place," he tells me, and I let out a relieved hiccup, tears are falling again. I'm not able to speak, I nod, I want to memorize his face, I don't want to lose a single moment.
"There's your father here," he says, and I'm nodding, I know, "and Marian," and I'm smiling openly.
"I'm happy you are with her," I tell him, and I'm honest, I'm happy.
"I know," he says gently. "I've met Daniel," he strokes a thumb on my cheek, captures a tear. I drown in his eyes, I want to remember this blue forever. "And?"
"And we are worried about you," he whispers. "I was able to move on because I knew I had saved you," he explains, "but you have to promise me one thing, before I go"
I know what is coming next, I don't want to hear it.
"Don't say it," I beg him, and he shakes his head.
"We don't have much time, so don't be stubborn and listen," I don't answer, he makes me meet his eyes.
"Promise me you'll live a wonderful life, Regina," he says. "Promise me you won't let go"
"I… I can't, I can't promise," I sob, and he nods.
"You can. Promise me"
My shoulders are shaking as I nod, "Okay," I whisper, and he pulls me closer, he presses a kiss on my forehead.
I feel our time is ending. I have to tell him. I have to tell him now.
"I love you".
It goes out like that, and I feel this heat in my heart, at least I got a chance to tell him, and he laughs, "I love you, too," he tells me, and we are laughing and crying at the same time, we are clinging to each other.
He has to sense it too, because he places his hands between my hair, he kisses me – and it's worse than his kiss at the town line, because this is the last, the last, and I don't want it to end. I don't want to say goodbye.
When we part, oh, I already miss his lips, he's starting to fade.
"No, stay," I say, but it's happening.
He looks at me, with love in his eyes.
"I'll wait for you. Always," he says, and I drown into his eyes, one last time.
"I love you," I say again, and he's gone.
"Goodbye," I say, but there's no one to hear my words.
Goodbye, my love. May we meet, one day.
I stay next to the grave, I don't know for how long. When I finally walk away, the sun is shining between the clouds.
