a/n: Hey, leave a review and tell me what you think! I'm always open to (and love to hear) your suggestions, thoughts, and questions.
17: Goodbye
Regina made quick work of driving to Gold's shop. And on the way she took a few deep breaths and told herself that she could do this and that this would be over in a few minutes and that then she could go home.
However, when she parked and got out of her car, she was startled by a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, turning to find Cora standing there. "You scared me." Regina sighed, a hand over her heart. "What are you doing out here? Someone could see you."
"No one's here." She assured, stepping forward out of the shadows. "I just wanted to talk to you without Rumple hovering over me before I go." Regina furrowed her brow, slowing to take a good look at her mother. Something was up.
"Talk about what?"
"You, Regina."
Cora said it so gently. All the color drained from Regina's face, and an icy lead block dropped to the pit of her stomach. She could barely form a coherent thought, suddenly so self-conscious as Cora looked her over. "How…?"
"You were very familiar to me. But this afternoon Rumple was in a rush to get rid of me, and I had some time alone. I knew that Mara wasn't your real name. It wasn't difficult to find out the truth." She admitted.
Regina could feel the burning in the back of her throat and the pickling at her eyes as she fought tears. With a thick swallow she licked her lips and took a deep, deep breath.
"I couldn't leave without saying a proper goodbye to my daughter." Cora took a deep breath and let a small smile creep onto her lips. "That scar on your lip~it was just a few days ago that you cut yourself." Oddly enough, Regina didn't recall the incident at all. The scar was...part of her. It was something she'd just always had.
"I wish I could say I remember."
"I don't think you'd want to." Cora chuckled, her eyes sparkling reminiscently. "Besides, you're~you were~quite young." Her gaze found Regina's pensively. "Henry's a charming boy. But too loving...soft." Regina grit her teeth and bit her tongue at her mother's blank eyes and objectively cold assessment of her little prince. Cora stepped forward, a calculated move. "I have questions."
"One." Regina swallowed, trying her hardest to be open minded during what Regina was sure was the last time she'd ever see her mother.
"Very well." Cora breathed, exhaling sharply through her nose, hands clasped together in front of her. "Where am I in this...new land?"
The question didn't surprise Regina at all, and she scoffed at it, shaking her head. "How...typical of you, mother." Her voice was bitter and her lip curled. And she felt she had a right to react this way. After all, Cora had seen enough over the last few days to know how coldly Regina was treated in this land. Yet the only thing she cared about was her own well-being. "Do you even care about what I've been going through without you?" Without, for Regina, had many meanings and it seemed as though Cora had picked up on that.
"What do you want me to say, dear? I was under the impression that you could handle yourself. You've always been so fiercely independant," Cora reminded her with a shake of her head.
"Because you forced me to be, mother!" Regina shot back but quickly deflated. This conversation was going to go nowhere. She was speaking to a ghost. And her anger was nothing but a manifestation of the grievances she had with a mother that didn't even exist yet. "You...never came with us to Storybrooke. You stayed in the Enchanted Forest," Regina answered, and that seemed to satisfy Cora.
"Well, in that case I want you to know that Jennifer's good for you...here, in this...new land." Cora supplied, glancing around at the cars and street lamps. "She seems to give you confidence in my absence." The comment surprised Regina.
"Good for...Mother, I've known her for a week. She's leaving." She narrowed her eyes, her chest suddenly tightening. "What are you trying to say?"
"Just that there is no use in being scared of doing what is necessary for your son."
Regina scoffed and turned to the sidewalk, taking a deep breath. Necessary for her son. How dare Cora suggest what she should and shouldn't do for her son. Regina knew what she was thinking too because up until a couple days ago she had been thinking the same thing, up until Jennifer convinced her that she could get Henry back without ruining her reputation. Cora wanted her to sabotage Storybrooke and use the Evil Queen to force Henry into her arms. In fact, Cora had done the same thing when she was in Storybrooke the first time.
"I'm not scared of anything." Regina accused, curling her lip. "Not Henry or the Charmings or a surgeon from New York." She scoffed, eyeing her mother. "Why did you really do this?"
Cora sighed, taking a step back. "Because I know that you aren't fond of me, but whatever I did...will do...I did it because I want you to be the best you can be. Besides, it got you here. You're the leader of this town, are you not? Far cry from Queen but it's power."
"Power, mother, I never wanted power. I wanted happiness!" She pleaded.
"Power is happiness." Cora shot back coldly, eyes sharp.
"My son hates me. These people are ready to slit my throat at the drop of a hat. And I have nobody...Mother. I have no one. Power has never given me happiness."
"That's not true. This power gave you your son."
Regina narrowed her eyes, suddenly still. "How would you know that? Did they tell you that?"
"This person is from your future, Regina. They know many things that you might find surprising."
Regina had had enough of Cora's cryptic messages and hidden meanings. Did she think that Jennifer could help her get her son back? Did she think that Jennifer felt the same way about power as Cora did? Whoever this person was, Regina wanted to know exactly what their intentions were. Why would they tell Cora that Regina had a family here but not in the Enchanted Forest? She had far too many questions that she knew she couldn't voice. Meddling with time was a dangerous game, and, as tempting as it was, she didn't want to play.
"I think that you should go, mother."
Cora frowned, "I'm only trying to help."
"Well, it's never quite worked out before," Regina admitted, trying to ignore Cora's attempt at sentimentality. She'd broken down once in the car with her mother and look where that got her: lied to and cheated as per usual with Cora. So she folded her arms over her chest, a protective gesture.
"You're my daughter. I do care what happens to you."
"I know you do, but I still think that you should go."
Cora sighed, disappointed, "Very well. Goodbye, Regina."
Regina's heart clenched as Cora turned to leave. She was going without a fight? Nevertheless, Regina's voice was soft and defeated when she spoke again. "Goodbye, mother."
Even when she won she felt she'd lost. She supposed that was Cora's specialty.
. . .
She didn't see Cora off into her portal. It was a trivial matter after the conversation they'd just had. Everything seemed rather trivial at the moment except, that is, for one person. With a wave of her arm she manifested herself in the entryway of the Charmings' apartment. Everyone would still be at the party so she wasn't at any risk of being thrown out.
"Mom?" Henry's voice asked from the couch. She turned and smiled softly at him.
"Hello, Henry."
"What are you doing here?" He asked, rubbing his eyes as she made her way to him.
"I wanted to see you. I just said goodbye to Cora...to your grandmother." She said as she sat down next to him in his pajamas.
"I'm sorry."
Regina gave him a bittersweet smile, "Me too, dear." They sat in silence for a moment before Henry folded his legs on the couch and turned to face her.
"She came to say goodbye to me too."
Regina frowned, "When?"
"Like half an hour ago. She seemed pretty nice. We were talking for a while," he offered. Immediately, frustrated and angry tears prickled at Regina's eyes. She knew that the only reason Cora had approached Henry was to get information about Storybrooke, and she abhorred the fact that her mother could be so manipulative, especially toward her own grandson. She hated that Cora cared for him so little. But, at the same time, she also found herself appreciating the fact that she was so cordial with him. And that brought more frustrated tears to her eyes because she was capable of such kindness and chose not to show it.
"Talking about what?" She gasped out, feigning curiosity.
He shrugged, "I dunno, about the Enchanted Forest. I wanted to know what it was like. And I told her stuff about what it's like here with you and me. She was curious." Henry frowned and cocked his head, suddenly seeing the tears in Regina's eyes. "Are you crying?"
"I'm just happy you got to spend a little time with her. Better time than I had." She breathed, resting a gentle hand on his back. And he let her.
. . .
Jennifer went back inside after Regina left, furiously rubbing her arms in the cold night air. She could see her breath for christ's sake. She supposed she was just particularly sensitive to the cold, always had been. Emma used to tease her about it.
It'd be winter somewhere ridiculous like Minnesota, and Jennifer would shake like a leaf inside the drafty rooms of some forgotten group home. Her feet would freeze through thick socks, and her nose would turn ruby red. But sometimes at night when Emma was feeling generous she would let Jennifer slither in next to her, Emma would wrap them in blankets, and she would feel warm and safe and loved.
She chatted with people the rest of the night, half distracted, stealing casual glances Emma's way. She was talking with Mary Margaret and David. Her parents.
"You okay?" Ruby's voice shook her out of her thoughts. She blinked.
"Yeah," she nodded, setting down her tumbler. Her voice oddly cropped and curiously avoidant, and Ruby saw right through her. So she just stared at her, waiting. Ruby had a way about her. She didn't even have to say anything. She didn't even have to look at her any differently. Jennifer could just feel her concern in the air. "It's just a...thing between Emma and me."
"Are you guys fighting? I noticed you aren't talking." Though Ruby's voice was gentle, Jennifer wanted to curl into herself and disappear. This is what she was afraid of. Questions.
"Yeah, you know, I don't really wanna talk about it. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. I don't mind." She paused, searching. "So you and Mayor Mills seem close."
"She's not all that bad once you get to know her."
"I suppose."
"Do you still see her as the Evil Queen?" Jennifer asked delicately.
Ruby sighed, "It's hard not to," she shrugged. "You never knew her in the Enchanted Forest, but she lived up to her name."
"What did she do?"
And Ruby told her. There were few details, but there were dozens of second hand accounts of how her opulence was fueled at the expense of the peasantry, leaving good people destitute. There were stories of cruelty and murder and curled lips in the face of the slums she created. She kept her kingdom running smoothly, but she had no regard for the concerns of the poor in the countless villages affected by her ridiculous taxes. Finally, Ruby talked about her cruelty toward Snow White and how the Kingdom banded together to protect her from the Queen when she was driven away from the castle and her title as princess. Jennifer already knew that Regina cast the Dark Curse because of something Snow White did, but the reason behind it wasn't in Henry's book. And Ruby didn't know either.
. . .
After she and Emma had said goodnight to Mary Margaret and David, the last two to leave Granny's that night, she immediately confronted Emma, not wanting any silence between them because then she'd have time to worry about how badly this could go.
"I can't…" The words echoed, self-assured, in the diner then died back on her tongue, and she was surprised by how unsure she sounded at the end. "Accept your apology."
Emma's face went pale. It was like someone just punched her in the gut. "Why not?" She asked, panicked. And suddenly, to Emma, Jennifer felt like a stranger. It was as if a part Emma's past had been torn away.
"Because you said it when the town needed it not when you believed it." Jennifer felt more confident now, and her voice stayed strong. Emma's whole body frowned, confused. And then she straightened, horrified at the very idea, it seemed.
"That's not true, though," she protested, but she sounded weak, her eyes darting, formulating.
"Emma, just stop," Jennifer laughed, breathy. It was ridiculous now. And Jennifer was getting angry. Emma languished silently, searching for something better to say than I'm sorry. "Do you remember when we were…" She hesitated, thinking, remembering, a picture sharpening in her mind. "Eleven. I was new in the system, and we were living with that couple. The one with the shag carpet that always smelled like tobacco and dust. They had those disgusting yellow walls. I always called it puke yellow. But then one day she heard me. And she started going off on me. She told me I was ungrateful, and she yelled until she was blue. And I cried until I couldn't breathe anymore and my fingers started tingling and I couldn't...see." She watched as Emma remembered. "You had two options that day." Jennifer continued. "You could have stayed quiet, or you could have told her all the shit I used to say about her and saved yourself. What did you do?"
"I kept quiet." Emma's voice was hoarse.
"Yeah, and do you remember what happened?" They didn't have to say it. They didn't want to say it. Emma still had a nasty scar on the back of her shoulder from when their foster mom shoved her into the corner of a table. Jennifer still had the crescent shaped white line on her wrist when she grabbed her and pulled her close and dug her nails into the soft, pale skin there, threatening her to make sure she didn't tell. Her nails were stained yellow, and Emma was whimpering on the floor, bleeding on the shag carpeting that they ended up ripping out the very next day. Emma had needed stitches, looking back Jennifer knew that. But they never took her to the hospital. And she and Emma were young. They were too scared to do anything but make do in the night with rubbing alcohol, cotton balls, and tape.
"You spared me that day~at your own expense." Jennifer told her. "You were...incredibly selfless, and I am so appreciative." Then her voice got dark and low. "But apologizing to me today was selfish. You did not really care about my feelings. You only cared about how this would turn out for you." She paused, her eyes cold. "There were other ways to appeal to me." The diner was stale and heavy and Emma couldn't look her in the eye anymore. "You~" She sighed, frustrated. "You could have talked about Storybrooke and Henry and all the people that would have been affected by that...fucking protection spell!" Jennifer's arm was outstretched as if they were all standing right there. "But you didn't. You...lied to me because it was the easiest thing you could think of."
"Jennifer, that's not true!"
"Then tell me the truth!" She shouted back, tears prickling at her eyes. Emma's face fell, a cold anger now.
"Fine. Here's the truth. I think you're being a selfish asshole." She held up her arms helplessly, a frustratingly arrogant look on her face. "From the bottom of my heart, Jennifer, if I had to do it again I would never have just disappeared like that. But I can't apologize with you wishing that my son had never been born!"
"I have never said that."
"You say it every time you wish I would have stayed! I get that you're upset, okay? You have a right to be. And I'm sorry that I made you feel like that. Really, I am. But Henry is my son. It doesn't matter that I gave him up for adoption. He has affected so many lives, touched so many people. He is a wonderful human being, and I would not trade him for anything let alone your shitty attitude." She was dark and angry and red and a vein was popping in her neck.
"Look, when you told me, right over there in that booth with a glass of lemonade, why you weren't apologizing I understood, okay? I understood that you couldn't regret leaving because of Henry. And I'm sorry if I made you feel like he isn't important to me. He is. I mean, god, he's your son. I understand, Emma." She paused, wanting that to sink in.
"But before you explained any of that you tried to excuse how you acted by claiming it was a stupid teenage fuck up. You said you didn't realize how leaving might have made me feel." Jennifer mocked. "How would you have felt, Emma? And, Jesus, you knew what my aunt and uncle did! You're just like them." There was silence. "God, you couldn't even say the actual words until it was beneficial to you. Even now. All I want is something genuine. Emma. I don't want you to apologize for the existence of your son. I want you to apologize for not saying goodbye. That much I deserve."
"Alright." Emma protested weakly, wanting this to end. "Alright." She moved back into a bar stool, sitting down. She looked drained, and she rested her forehead in a hand that was propped up on her knee. Jennifer felt her own knees going. She felt tears well back up in her eyes and sat down in a booth. Her hand covered her mouth, and they were silent, only the whirring of the ice machine to keep them company.
Jennifer could see the way it all went through Emma's head. And she could see exactly when Emma opened her mouth. And she knew exactly what was about to come out. "Don't say it now." Jennifer's voice was pained, exhausted.
Thirteen years of absolute shit.
And it all came down to this. Silence.
