AN: Regina's journey to save Red begins. Along the way she encounters an unexpected interruption.
Standard Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me, which is a good thing else I might never get anything done. They are Adam and Eddie's. Please, guys, don't sue me!
"Well how long have I / Been sitting here, I must have drifted off" - "Permission" by Sixx A.M.
Chapter 4 – A Journey Interrupted
Regina rises before the sun has even crested the horizon. Last night's tonic had done little to aid in her rest; she slept only two hours.
Breakfast that morning consists of a handful nuts and berries Red gathered a month before. Regina has to force them down over the unrelenting nausea. But she willfully perseveres through every bite and swallow, knowing she needs her energy if she is to reach the Dark Palace before the deadline expires.
Having managed to eat a respectable if not healthy meal, she wastes no time in throwing on her travel clothing. She dons her pack after dressing, and then retrieves her weapons. Within minutes, she is ready to depart.
While lack of sleep poses a significant problem considering the treacherous route she must take, the time for caution has long since passed. Those horrific scenes she had witnessed in the mirror, seared into her conscious mind with imperishable flames, torment her waking hours even more than her nightmares. And although she is unlikely to ever fully recover from what she'd witnessed, the revulsion and hatred she feels serve as fuel for motivation.
Being consumed with a singular determination concerning her pending journey spares little time for her to indulge any delays. If she is going to make the deadline, torturing herself with memories of what happened to Red, along with what might be happening again right now, is counterproductive. For Red's sake, she must be focused on her objective and on alert at all times.
Steeling herself, she exits her tiny hovel and moves several yards away before turning back to study it one last time. She knows that there will be no returning.
The moment is poignantly bittersweet. There have been so many memories made in this place – too many for such a tiny space to hold, really. Within the cramped confines of that little shanty, an inexperienced exile had learned how to survive, how to mend her own clothing, how to fletch arrows, and how to make detailed and intricate plans for her thefts that had not once failed her. In that one room shack no bigger than a small wagon, she had learned how to be her own person, how to make her own way in the world without need for a man or a parent or a title to undergird her. In that little shanty built by her own hands, Regina the helpless and unwanted orphan became Regina the woman: self-sufficient and comfortable in her own skin.
But even though those memories are precious and accompanied by many more such fond recollections, none of them are more valuable than those of her time with Red. It is the love they made and shared together within those barren walls that elevated Regina from a person content to exist to a person inspired to persist. Red has made her want to live again, has reopened her heart so that she feels down to her marrow after years of wandering around numb and disconnected from the world. Now, thanks to Red, she has someone to fight for who deserves the best she has to offer.
In contemplating these things, Regina realizes the shack she'd built is not her home anymore. Red is home now, and there is nothing Regina will not do to get her back.
Focused and set on her path, she reaches down to retrieve an arrow she had prepared long ago for such an occasion by wrapping the head up with straw and binding that tightly with a string. She coats the small bundle at the end of the arrow with what remains of her oil, then retrieves her flint stones. After gently propping the front quarter of the arrow upon a rock, she crouches down and strikes the flints together until a spark catches upon the oiled and straw-wrapped head, causing it to burst into flames immediately. Regina stands after replacing the flints in her pouch and then carefully nocks the arrow.
With one last look at her sanctuary for the past three years, she looses the arrow and watches dispassionately as it buries itself within the thatching of the roof. It doesn't take long for the tiny flame to catch into a full blown fire. Her work done, she spins in place and starts off into the woods. She does not look back even once. This part of her life is now over.
With a pale gray smoke billowing up into the forest canopy, Regina shifts into a jog and departs for Misthaven. She will never set foot in Sherwood Forest again.
It is still early in the morning when Regina finally emerges from Sherwood near the border into Misthaven. She does not bother to decipher which milestone she is near before beginning her trek though the Queen's Forest, and she does not pause until she comes to a lesser traveled route that runs parallel to the Queen's Road.
Like the main thoroughfare, this smaller dirt artery (which is about the width of two horses shoulder-to-shoulder) spans the distance between Sherwood and the Dark Palace. Prior to reaching its termination point, it makes one slight detour along the coast where it bisects the town of New Providence before turning back inland and terminating in the villages surrounding the Dark Palace. Since it is a relatively obscure route, it provides security without sacrificing too much speed, which is important since Regina is still an outlaw. As it is, she is already on a tight schedule and cannot afford to risk being detained or delayed in any way if she is to reach the Dark Palace by sundown two days hence.
Now on her chosen path, she follows it for nearly two hours without bothering to take a rest. There is a tiny hamlet just ahead that she knows will afford her an opportunity to sit for a spell before setting off again, so she presses on at a steady pace toward that objective. But when she feels she is falling behind, she speeds up to a respectable jog to make it up, all the while thanking Red for the incessant encouragement to increase her physical fitness.
One of the side benefits of loving a werewolf is enjoying their impressive stamina. Regina has yet to complain over being subjected to Red's bountiful energy between the sheets, but she soon discovered that Red was only really ever still when she slept. Red was always at something, always busying herself with tasks that really could wait, and she was especially fond of long morning runs to stretch out those long legs of hers. Regina found Red's penchant for exercise amusing up until her young lover started to focus some of that antsy attention upon Regina's general welfare, including her state of physical preparedness.
Not two months after they became intimate, Red took it upon herself to improve Regina's running distance, speed, and efficiency.
"I'm by no means criticizing the shape you're in," she had said, eyeing Regina's nakedness with bald appreciation. "I mean, it's well known there are few who can keep up with you in the thick of the forest or equal your skill in a fair fight. The thing is, you can't always count on people fighting fair – I know Snow won't. And besides that, the advantages this very familiar environment provides won't always be available. I don't want you to get caught out in the open and be unable to outdistance your enemy. So, take it from someone who's done a lot of running in her life: it's not the short bursts of speed that will save your hide on open ground, but being able to maintain pace over distance. And that is something I can help you with."
Despite Regina's frequent and prolonged protestations, she allowed herself to be pulled out of her warm cocoon of blankets and Red's body to go for a run. At first it was agony to try and keep up with Red. The girl seemed to have limitless stores of energy from which to draw and could run at full speed at least twice as long as any normal human, even when on two legs. But over time, Regina began to improve to the point where she could at least stay within visual range of Red most of the time. Of course, she never doubted that Red took it easy on her, but she was pleased nonetheless at her progress. And in time, she grew to enjoy the activity enough to make it a morning routine even when Red was not around.
After about twenty minutes of solid loping that she could not have maintained a year ago, Regina arrives at the little forest hamlet. She slows as she nears due to a great racket emanating from somewhere in the center of the village. The sound of a young man shouting for help soon joins the ruckus, spurring Regina into action.
Quickly drawing her bow, she readies an arrow and proceeds carefully into town. As she creeps slowly but steadily around a series of cabins that are likely to be occupied, she is careful to keep her steps light to prevent attracting unwanted attention. Keeping this up until she is close to the tiny square at the center of town is not difficult due to her many years of banditry. To Regina, stealth has become second nature.
Upon maneuvering to a location with an unobstructed view of the square, she spots the source of the alarm. Shackled to an overturned cart is a boy of no more than 14 years, looking terrified and completely out of place as he calls for help. Before she can come to his aid, a movement from the left catches her attention, and Regina soon understands the boy's fear. There is an enormous and ravenous looking ogre advancing on his location, teeth bared and club at the ready.
Breathing a sigh of frustration, Regina curses her luck. She'd taken this path to avoid delays and here she is being confronted with not just a delay but a monstrous one at that. Still, she cannot very well abandon this lad to his fate. If she did that, she would be no better than the soulless bastard who left such a young boy at the mercy this ogre. More than that, though, she thinks of Red, who would not hesitate to help if she were in this situation, no matter how rushed for time she felt.
Her decision made, Regina begins advancing again, and she manages to tiptoe around the one room huts that line the inner circle of the hamlet until arriving at an angle that affords her an excellent shot. Drawing her bow up, she pulls the arrow-loaded string taut and then stills her breath. She waits, watching with eagle eyes for an opening. None is presented to her until the ogre is nearly upon the boy. Seeing its prey helpless, the dumb but powerful creature grows excited and bellows a loud exultant roar, it's eyes widening in anticipation. It is the moment Regina was waiting for.
She looses the string, setting the arrow into flight, and as her shots always do, it flies tried and true. When it strikes, it lodges directly in the eye of the ogre, piercing into its pathetically small brain. The beast stiffens instantly, gives out a wet gurgle and a grunt, and then drops to the ground dead.
Startled by the unexpected development, the boy turns toward the source of the arrow. The second Regina reveals herself, his eyes widen with joy.
"Mom!" he shouts, and she reels back in utter confusion.
"I believe you have me mistaken for someone else, young man," she replies, renewing her forward momentum. After reaching the cart, she makes quick work of unshackling the boy from his bonds by picking the lock – a trick she'd learned from Robin Hood before they parted ways. Since abandoning her at the altar to run away with her sister, Regina didn't much like thinking about her former flame, but she was at least grateful for the lessons on lock-picking he had so kindly given her. Aside from this instance, they have come in handy many a time.
Once the boy is freed, he rubs at his wrists as if they pain him, but his eager grin remains firmly in place. "Thanks."
"You're welcome." Nodding once, Regina kneels down beside the ogre to retrieve her arrow, and then cleans it of gore upon a scrap of cloth she'd snatched from a nail upon a nearby lintel. The boy watches her every move intently.
"So, I know you won't believe me," he then says as he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his strange looking breeches, "but I didn't make a mistake. You really are my mom, you just don't remember."
Regina raises a brow at this assertion. She, of course, doesn't believe him, but she humors him out of pity.
"Is that so? How inconvenient."
With that, she turns away from him, intent on resuming her trek along the path leading away from the village. The hope is that by ignoring him he will lose interest and simply go on his way, wherever that is. But her hopes are dashed when she hears the sound of footsteps following in her wake. Regina groans inaudibly.
"I'm telling the truth!"
The boy's insistence begins to annoy Regina, but she tamps down on the temptation to be abrasive. She can tell that he is struggling to keep up with her rapid pace despite his nearly being her height, and aside from that, a narrow escape from death is reason enough for her to give him some leeway. Still, she knows that she has to send him away for his own good if not for her own peace of mind.
"I'm sure you believe that," she says after a moment, not bothering to slow down. "I, however, am not so convinced. Now, go on your way young man, for where I'm going you cannot follow."
The boy does not heed her command as he continues down the path behind her. "Too bad," he huffs. "I need your help to fix this and I'm not leaving until I get it."
Regina stops in her tracks, suddenly overcome by annoyance. She whirls around and steps into her teenager-shaped shadow's personal space. "Listen, boy..."
"Henry," he supplies.
Leaning back as if struck, Regina peers at the strange young man she had just saved. The moment he uttered his name, something tingled in the back of her mind. Aside from him sharing her father's name, it is almost like there is a memory trying to surface that should be there but was not.
"See, on some level, you believe me," he adds, having picked up on her reaction. "You are my mom whether you want to believe it or not." When Regina opens her mouth to retort, he interrupts her by blurting out, "I can prove it! I have a book." After digging around in his pack, he pulls out a leather-bound tome entitled Heroes & Villains.
Regina scoffs. A trite title if there ever was one. "That's sweet," she sasses, unable to help herself. "You have a book. Congratulations. I'm sure it's a real page turner, but as I said, I have somewhere to be, so please excuse me."
Before Regina can turn away once again, Henry grasps at her elbow in an effort to stop her progress. She turns back on him with a withering glare, satisfied when he shrinks back slightly.
"Sorry," he apologizes, but still he holds out the opened book to her. "Just take a look. What harm can it do?"
Regina sighs and rolls her eyes on reflex. If this is what she must do to rid herself of this nuisance, then what, indeed, can the harm be? She takes the preferred tome from Henry, but not without a pointed glare, and then holds it up to inspect it. As she thumbs through the pages, she is mostly disinterested, but that all changes the moment she notices a particular illustration. There, in colored portrait, is a remarkably accurate rendering of her waiting in the woods on her fallen log as a massive werewolf runs toward her with barely restrained excitement in its eyes. Gasping, she turns startled eyes up to Henry.
"Where did you get this? How is it even possible? I don't understand."
Henry smiles patiently. "It's like I told you, you're my mom. You just don't remember because you've been written into this book by the Author. We come from another world. It was the Author who wrote your story here with Ruby." Seeing Regina's confused expression at the name, Henry corrects himself hastily, "sorry, I mean Red Riding Hood. Back home, she goes by the other name."
Still not quite believing all of this, Regina furls her brows skeptically. "That can't be possible. Magic can do many things, but not that. No, there is only one explanation. This tome must have been commissioned by the Queen. She is the only person besides myself and Red who knows about us."
Regina realizes she is grasping at straws, as there was no way such an intricately illustrated book could have been completed so quickly, even by the Queen's magic. And yet she is unwilling to consider Henry's tale as possibly being true for fear of kindling some kind of hope within her breast that she may get her happy ending after all.
"Then how do you explain this?" Henry says, flipping the page. Upon it is yet another illustration of Regina and Red, though this time the circumstances are far more intimate. They are in bed, their modesty covered only by a well-worn cotton blanket. Regina blushes to the roots of her hair.
"How inappropriate," she comments, hoping to deflect attention from her embarrassment. The details are admittedly incredible, from the way she and Red are all tangled up together, to the contrast of their skin tones (olive on ivory), on down to the love shining in their eyes. Were the subject matter not inappropriate for such a young lad to be viewing, she would have lingered on the page to drink in the sight of Red in all of her glory. As it is, she flips the page quickly so he can no longer see it. "I hope your parents don't let you read such garbage as this."
Rather than appearing chastised, Henry shrugs. "Things are different in our world. I see worse stuff than this on cable TV."
"Well..." Regina gapes, not quite knowing how to respond. "Whatever this...TV is, you should not be reading it. Such things are for more mature audiences." When Henry laughs, Regina frowns deeply. "What's so funny?"
"It's just..." He tapers off, then grins crookedly. "Even magically written into a book meant to take away your happy ending, you're still you."
Regina extends the book back out to Henry, trying not to smile at his infectious positivity. "That's nice, but this proves nothing."
Rather than accept, he pushes the book back in her direction and then points at the text on the page Regina had turned to. "You haven't even read what this says yet. I bet it'll be a conversation you remember having." Regina's brows draw together. Though skeptical once more, she only briefly hesitates before returning her attention to the book again. "Go ahead," he encourages, pointing toward the page with his head. "What can it hurt to read a few sentences?"
Regina rolls her eyes for the second time in as many minutes, but gives in just the same. It annoys her to no end that Henry seems able to convince her to act against her own better judgment. But there is just something about him that makes her want to please him, even if she knows it is completely nonsensical.
Turning her eyes down to the text, she indulges him by reciting aloud:
"Heaving a thoroughly contented sigh, Regina nuzzled her cheek upon Red's bare chest, eyes sliding shut to drift back to sleep. She was half under the pull of drowsiness when a hand began to gently rub the small of her back. Eyes cracking open, Regina tilted her head up to catch blurry green eyes regarding her with unfiltered happiness. Red's entire countenance was alight with a luminous adoration that caused Regina's chest to swell with emotions that are nearly uncontainable.
"'Morning, my plucky bandit," Red greeted, a lazy smile stretched across her lips. Her voice was a welcome song to Regina's inclined ears.
Regina chuckled at the traditional morning greeting Red has adopted ever since they met. "Good morning, fairy wolfmother," she replied as she props herself slightly upon the elbow nestled between Red's right arm and ribs. When her disheveled but absolutely adorable werewolf's smile widened, Regina leaned down to kiss her."
Unwilling to read anymore, Regina thrusts the book back at Henry. "I can't…how? No one knows that we call each other by those names." Figuring she must be delusional she holds a hand over her forehead to check for fever. Finding her skin at perfect temperature, she breathes out, "this can't be happening. There is no way this is real."
"But it is," Henry gently reiterates. "You've just seen proof of it, because judging by your reaction, this clearly happened."
Not trusting herself to speak, Regina stares off into the distance, eyes following the rough path at the other end of which Red is being held captive. Since her initial instinct to dismiss Henry's book as some impressive feat of magic has been dashed, she is suddenly powerless to prevent the dangerous blossoming of hope within her heart.
She can't help but wonder. What if Henry's assertions are true after all? What if this really is a mere figment of her imagination, some kind of cursed world in perpetual stasis ordained by the will of one deranged man? The idea is preposterous on its own merits, but aside from the pause produced by the tangible evidence that has been presented to her, she has personally witnessed many ludicrous things in her life. Then there is Henry's strange style of dress, which is so out of place that it only bolsters his argument. Furthermore, Henry does not seem the type of boy to lie about such things.
That said, if he is telling the truth, she is greatly concerned as to what kind of a world might be awaiting her should his efforts to 'fix' things succeed. She has no idea as to the state of life in this other reality, and that is incredibly worrisome. For instance, is the Queen still her enemy there? If she were to escape this false world for the real one, would she simply be eluding one doom by leaping headlong into another? And most importantly, how exactly does Red fit in the equation? If Red really is this 'Ruby' as Henry proclaims, is she still the same kind, loving woman who fell in love with a hopeless criminal? Or does she even know who Regina is at all?
The questions she poses to herself give rise to only more to the point that Regina feels obliged to press for clarification.
"Say I'm willing to entertain this fantastical scenario as possible," she poses, noting how excited Henry becomes at the prospect of her believing him. For some strange reason she feels good about it, though she dismisses that feeling in the interest of seeking answers. "Does the Evil Queen live in this world, and if so, is she still hunting me?"
"No to the last question," Henry replies, "and the second is more complicated than I have time to explain. You'll just have to trust me when I say the Evil Queen is no longer an issue in our world."
Regina's eyes narrow at the evasion, but she recognizes the wisdom in not over-complicating the discussion. "Alright. And what about Red? Does she know me in this world of yours?"
Henry grins and gives her an enthusiastic nod. "Yes! In fact, she's your girlfriend."
Regina frowns. "'Girl...friend?' This terminology confuses me. Does it mean that she loves me as a friend?"
"It's more than that," Henry says, his cheeks growing rosy. "Friends don't hav...er, do the kind of things you guys do together."
"So we are in love then?"
"Yeah." He smiles sweetly. "You adore Ruby and she practically worships the ground you walk on. I'm a teenage boy who considers all that lovey-dovey stuff kinda gross, but even I think you guys are adorable."
Regina cannot stop the smile that forms on her face as she hears this news, even though she is not totally convinced just yet. Still, it helps to know that should Henry's admittedly outlandish claim prove true, she will not lose Red in the process of losing the only world she's ever known.
But even with that reassurance she is left with an enormous conundrum to solve. On one hand, Red is the Queen's captive and in dire need of rescue. But on the other hand, assuming Henry is being truthful, fixing the handiwork of this 'Author' will logically reverse what everything that has been done in implementing this fairy tale prison. If that is indeed the case, Red would be freed by consequence without Regina having to turn herself in. But if Henry is wrong…
Before Regina can even go down that train of thought, she narrows her eyes at the young man that still seems so very familiar (though she supposes he should seeing as he insists to be her son).
"What is it you would require of me should I agree to help you?"
A triumphant whoop is her immediate answer, and again Regina almost smiles at Henry's youthful enthusiasm.
"We need to find my other mom, Emma," he then says, still buoyant with optimism. "She can fix things. She's the Savior."
Trying not to react at the name, Regina zeroes in on a possible hole in Henry's story. "I thought I was your mother."
"You are," he replies without missing a beat. "Back in our world, you adopted me as a baby. Emma is my birth mother. You guys kinda share custody."
There is a certain plausibility in his explanation, but while Regina senses no deception, she cannot imagine how such an arrangement would work. "I see. And how do I feel about this awkward situation?"
"You're okay with it. You've learned to work together with Emma over the years. I like to think you've become friends."
Cocking her hip to the side, Regina rests her hand on it and peers at Henry intently. "Alright, say I accept this line of reasoning as valid. What exactly is the need for finding your 'other mother'?"
He sighs with impatience. "I already told you. She's the Savior."
"The Savior you say?" This time Regina does not bother to mask the fact that she has heard that moniker before. If freeing this Emma is required to 'fix things', she knows it already to be an impossible undertaking. "If this 'Savior' is indeed your mother then I cannot help you retrieve her," she tells Henry. "She is being held in an island fortress off the coast of Misthaven, well beyond my reach."
The bad news appears to have no effect on the young man, which is both annoying and impressive. The only person Regina ever knew to be so resilient in their optimism was a young Snow White.
"That's okay." He shrugs as if crossing hundreds of leagues is a minor obstacle. "If we can find Hook, he can take us there on the Jolly Roger."
At that, Regina's brow raises. She has heard of this individual as well. "Hook? The pirate?"
"That's the one."
"How does he fit into all of this?" Regina queries, curious as to why Henry seems intent upon finding him. She can tell it has more to do than his usefulness as a sailor with access to a ship.
Henry frankly replies, "He's my mom's boyfriend."
Regina chuckles ruefully at the picture coming together in her head of Henry's world. It is a strange one to say the least.
"Well, I'll admit, the tangled web of this..." she waves her hand about as she speaks, "reality you inhabit is complex indeed. But the fact remains, I cannot help you." Her continued refusal this time causes Henry to visibly deflate, and while Regina feels bad for turning him down, he will simply have to accept it. Taking that kind of detour is out of the question with a deadline looming ahead of her and many miles yet to travel.
To ease his disappointment, she decides to explain her reasoning. "As your book accurately portrayed, Red is my lover, and she is being held captive by the Evil Queen. If I do not turn myself in by sundown tomorrow, awful things will be done to her. Unspeakable things. Things I cannot allow to happen any more than they already have."
"You can't!" Henry suddenly exclaims, wide-eyed with concern and objection. "You can't turn yourself in to her, Mom. She'll kill you!"
Giving the boy a sad smile, Regina nods. "Yes, she will. But it's my only choice. I love Red too much to condemn her to such a fate as awaits her should I not show up." Looking down at the slightly shorter young man, Regina wills him to both understand and recognize her decision as final. She doesn't need his approval, but she wants it anyway and is not quite sure why.
When Henry sighs in defeat, she knows he has surrendered to her reasoning. It relieves her to know he won't fight her further, but at that same time there is at least one thing she can do for him.
"I have to save her Henry," she tells him, "not only for her sake but for mine as well. That said, I promise to at least see you safely to New Providence, for it is there that Blackbeard docks the Jolly Roger and it is there you will find the pirate named Hook."
Stopping his incoming protest with a raised hand, she repents of her earlier belief that he has in any way accepted her decision. She fixes him with a glare that is stern but lacking any real bite.
"I'll hear no more arguments on this matter. If you're going to come with me, then do so, but please respect my decision. I will not change my mind. Do you understand?"
Ducking his head, he nods with a resigned expression in place. "Yes, ma'am."
Assured at least of Henry's compliance, Regina turns back for the road, but not before clasping the lad's shoulder in a comforting gesture meant to assuage her harshness. An inexplicable swell of fondness for him washes over her, and she rubs his shoulder in a maternal way that feels foreign to her and yet familiar all at the same time.
"Very well, then," she says after a moment of lingering, "let's be off. It's half a days journey to New Providence and I have little time to waste."
Regina gives Henry's shoulder one final squeeze and then sets off back down the path toward their destination. Henry follows closely on her heel.
A heavy silence descends as they trek onward, and aside from the occasional comment or question from Henry to which Regina patiently responds, it remains mostly in place until they arrive in New Providence some six hours later. It is nearing dusk when they enter the town proper, so Regina wastes no time in visiting the nearest inn. After securing a room with two beds, she instructs Henry where to find the docks, and then releases him to locate his pirate while she procures supplies. Before he leaves, however, she extracts a promise from him that he speak to no one aside from Hook.
Once he has departed for the docks, Regina closes her eyes and breathes a sigh of relief. Truthfully, she sent Henry away in a moment of selfishness because she wants to be alone.
Several times during the journey she had been overwhelmed by thoughts of Red to the point of nearly losing her composure. Wondering whether or not her lover was being beaten or raped again at any given moment was torture. And while Snow had made an oath that Red would not be harmed further, the Queen has always displayed a proficiency for semantics along with a frightful willingness to skirt around her own promises. Regina could not even begin to imagine what creative methods of hurting Red Snow could devise within the warped recesses of her psychotic mind.
Every time such thoughts occurred to Regina, images from the mirror would begin dancing behind her eyes. Even now the excruciating pain on Red's face as Charming violated her is always crystal clear as if she is reliving the horror and not remembering it. And the sound of Red's tormented screams would echo maddeningly through her head and then spiral down the length of her spine until settling into her stomach, inflaming the nausea all over again.
It was during those battles against her own mind that she began to grasp a terrible truth. Even if she somehow manages to rescue Red, things will never be the same. Every moment that passes with Red in the Queen's clutches, she is being irreparably scarred, not only physically but mentally and emotionally, to the point that the woman Snow had captured would not be the same one who emerges from the ashes of this fiery crucible. No matter the outcome, the Queen will have won, for whoever survives will experience lasting effects that drastically alter the way they live their life.
But dwelling on such things does her little good at the moment, so after half an hour of moping about the decrepit little room she'd rented, she forces herself to start moving. To clear her mind, she heads out into the streets of New Providence where she wanders aimlessly about taking in the town. It has grown considerably since she'd last visited. Where one there were empty lots, shops and homes have sprung up, and the population seems to have grown substantially judging by the sizable crowd occupying the streets.
One thing remains the same, however: the people remain willfully oblivious to the fact that they live under the rule of a murderous psychopath whose greatest pleasure is the misery of others. Watching the citizens of New Providence mill about town, passing by her without a care in the world, angers Regina more than it should.
"Don't they know what the Queen is doing right now?" she thinks, casting blame on these ordinary people that does not belong to them. Rationally, she realizes that they are merely getting on with their lives as best they can. But Regina is not feeling rational, hasn't really since she'd witnessed one of the most atrocious acts conceivable being perpetrated upon the woman she loves.
Her mood darkens the longer she walks, and in a fitting bit of coincidence the sun fades along with it.
When at last it begins to dip below the horizon, she makes haste to return to the inn. Once there, she discovers Henry waiting for her inside. He is not alone. Standing next to him is a tall, slender, and rakishly handsome man dressed in black leather with equally dark hair and eyes the color of a stormy sea. One of the his hands is missing and in its place was a gleaming silver hook, the source of his unique moniker.
Regina pauses in the doorway. "You must be Hook, or so I presume," she greets, eyeing him critically to determine whether or not he is a threat. To her surprise, he appears to be fairly docile for a pirate.
"Aye, that I am," he replies in his roguish accent.
As she offers him her hand, she locks eyes with him to test his mettle. He meets her gaze with an admirable firmness. "I'm Regina."
Hook smiles at her then, and if she is being honest, it is a very nice one. She can certainly see the appeal that had attracted Henry's 'other mother', but is not about to voice that opinion.
"Pleased to meet you, lass," Hook returns.
"Likewise," Regina nods, though she narrowed her eyes, "but don't call me lass. I have an incredibly sharp knife and I am very good at using it."
Holding his hands up in mock surrender, Hook's lips turn up crookedly. "Duly noted, milady."
Regina rolls her eyes and scoffs, to which Hook's amusement only deepens. She ignores him as she enters the room, shedding her fur-lined vest as she walks. She places it on the end table next to the modest bed and then sits primly upon the edge before returning her attention to Hook.
"Has Henry informed you of his need?"
Hook rubs absently at his eponymous appendage. "He has."
"And are you amenable to aiding him?"
"I am," he replies confidently. "I've already procured a vessel. We depart at first light." Waving his hooked hand in her direction, he then inquires, "Will you be accompanying us on the journey?"
Regina averts her gaze for a moment, frowning deeply. Though she knows her path to be set and has reconciled herself to what awaits her at the end, she is honestly disappointed she can not aid Henry further. Had circumstances not been as they were, she would have agreed to tag along, for against better sense, she believes in him (his tale about other realities is another matter altogether). Since circumstances are what they are, though, her obligations reside elsewhere with her imprisoned lover.
She takes a breath and then releases it before answering Hook. "Unfortunately, I cannot. My love is being held ransom by the Evil Queen, and I must secure their release."
"Not an easy task," Hook comments, brooding slightly at the mention of the Queen. As a pirate, he has probably crossed paths with Snow many a time and is thus well aware of her inclinations. "Her Majesty is not known for clemency...or kindness."
"I do not expect clemency," Regina replies. "I intend to trade my life for hers."
Hook's eyes bulge dramatically. "Hers?"
Regina huffs out a breath at the typically male reaction, though she is not terribly surprised at it. Even if she did not consider herself of exclusively one inclination, being a bandit has exposed her to all manner of lifestyles and sexual orientations. As a person who believes that love cannot be defined, she has never disapproved of those who love another of their sex. However, most men do not deal well with women whose proclivities do not lie with them, which it is not so much a judgment as it is a reality according to her experiences.
"Yes. Her. Does it offend your masculinity that I love a woman rather than a man?" She presses Hook carefully so as not to unjustly offend or mislabel him. She is genuinely interested to know what kind of man he is, and his reply will reveal much to her in that vein.
"Not at all," is his readily supplied answer. Regina studies his expression, finding no disgust or condemnation there. "It just surprised me is all," he then clarifies. "I've sailed with such mates of both genders during my travels. It never bothered me. I'm more of live and let love kind of fellow."
The suave smile Hook supplies along with that last sentence suggests his words are true, and as handsome a man as he is, Regina is certain he gets plenty of love wherever he goes. Still, his liberal attitude toward sexuality does not necessarily mean he is a person of upstanding character. After all, at the risk of gross generalization, most pirates are self-serving degenerates. Hook, however, does not seem to fall into that stereotypical mold quite so neatly.
"Of that, I've no doubt," she offers in reply, eyeing him in such a way that indicates she understood his implication. Her doubts resolved, she stands to extend her hand once more. "Well, then, Mr. Hook, on the morrow, I will entrust young Henry into your care. Do I have your solemn vow that you will protect him?"
Taking her hand with his good one, Hook gives it a firm shake, his eyes clear and honest. "Aye. I swear it upon my life."
Now that Regina is satisfied Henry will be looked after, the stress of the day and her lack of sleep the night before finally catches up to her. She can feel the weariness seeping into her bones, dragging her down. She indicates toward the door with her hand.
"Very well, then. If you don't mind, I need to rest. I have a long journey ahead of me tomorrow."
Instead of being affronted at the abrupt dismissal, Hook nods with understanding. "Fair enough. I thank you for your trust, milady."
"You're welcome," Regina replies, managing a small smile. "See that you don't break it. If you do, I'll hunt you down to the ends of the earth."
In response to the very real threat, Hook shows respect by bowing formally. "On my honor." He then crosses over toward the door, but before leaving turns halfway back to address Henry. "I will see you bright and early in the morning lad, so you best get some shut-eye."
"Okay," is Henry's simple reply. "See ya, Hook."
With that, Hook departs, which allows Regina the freedom to go about preparing to retire. As she loses herself in the process of turning down the bed, Henry sidles over next to her.
"Hey, Mom?"
"Yes, Henry?" she responds, failing to notice her failure to correct his reference to her as his mother.
Sitting down on the corner of the bed, he sets his big, endearing brown eyes on her. "I promise that once we rescue Emma, we'll come back to help you. We'll save Ruby together, you'll see."
Hope flares within Regina's breast for the third time, and it is stronger than ever before. And though she tries to stamp it enough so as to extinguish it, it persists stubbornly.
"Her name is Red, dear," she corrects, her gaze softening ever-so-slightly, "and I highly doubt that. The island is leagues away and I will arrive at the Dark Palace on the morrow. Even the Jolly Roger cannot make the journey in so short a time."
As if knowing a secret she is not privy to, Henry counters, "But Hook was not captain before. He is now. Have faith, Mom. I believe we can do this. We can save Emma and Red and undo Isaac's story, and then we'll all be home again. You'll see."
Having arranged the cover on the bed, Regina plops down heavily upon it, then rests her hands on her thighs. She sighs wearily. "If only it were so simple, Henry."
Not for the first time she wishes for all the world she could see things the way young Henry does. Life, however, has been a harsh teacher for Regina. A person can only endure so much loss and face so many setbacks before they began to accept that hope is a fool's crutch, and this latest tragedy seems to be one time too many. In the heaviness of the moment, it seems as if the camel's back has finally been broken, only not by a straw but an image in a magic mirror. As a result, the healthy cynicism she'd worn like a coat of mail before Red came along begins to wrap itself around her once again, and she hasn't the strength left to fight it.
Bowing her head, Regina tries to conceal the welling of tears upon her lids. But then Henry scoots closers until he is beside her, and after nestling close, winds a lean arm around her shoulders. Rather than draw away as she normally would have, she is so downtrodden that she accepts the embrace, needing his strength in this moment of weakness.
"Don't cry, Mom," Henry says, rubbing his hand down her arm. "I promise that everything will be okay."
The part of Regina that wants to believe in Henry wonders at how many times he's repeated this gesture for her in the past. The practiced nature of his movements reveals that he's done so many times, which casts a negative light on her abilities as a mother. No son of his tender age should be so adept at comforting a parent. "Perhaps," she thinks bitterly, "I am as much a failure in his world as I am in this one."
Aloud, she counters his reassurances with her justifiable doubts. "You can't know that," she says, a lonely tear escaping her lids to roll down her cheek. "The Evil Queen has Red. The only person left in this world that I love is the captive of a woman lacking any sense of morality and whose villainy knows no limits. It's tearing me apart not knowing what's being done to her. I can't go on like this, Henry, I just can't."
"But none of this is real," he gently reminds her. "Nothing that the Evil Queen does in this world really matters, because when Emma fixes things, it'll be like it never happened."
She looks at him dubiously. "How can you be so sure?"
Henry's expression turns thoughtful, and a wisdom shines in his eyes that doesn't quite fit with his youth. He seems in that moment almost ancient, as if he has lived through many harsh lessons taught by life.
"Because this is not a curse," he says. "This is a story – a bad one for sure, but still just a story. And if there's one thing I've learned in all my creative writing classes it's that bad stories can be erased."
The answer is overly simplistic, but Regina can see the rationale behind it – assuming Henry is correct, that is. She sighs and then brushes a hand through her hair. "For Red's sake, I hope you're right."
"I am. You'll see." With that, Henry gives her shoulder one last squeeze before sliding off the bed to shuck off his own coat.
Regina watches closely as he removes the strange hooded garment beneath and lays it aside also. He picks up his book once more, then shuffles over to a rickety old chair nestled beneath the only window in the room. Once comfortable, he flips through the pages and begins to read. Mere seconds pass before a yawn breaks through his attempt conceal how fatigued he is.
It is, Regina decides, an opportune moment to take leave of him for the night. "Well," she drawls as she stands, "since we're both tired, I'm going to retire to the chambers next to this one. Do not open your door for anyone, do not leave this room for anything, and if you have need of me, do not hesitate to wake me. Alright?" Henry nods casually. Motherly instincts Regina didn't know she had kick in with a vengeance. "I'm serious, Henry. You are my charge until the morning, and I'll sleep better knowing that you'll use common sense."
"I understand, Mom," he replies, lips stretching into a knowing smile. "I'll be quiet as a field mouse and cautious as a spooked horse."
Regina returns his smile, though her insides are twisting from the familiarity of that phrase. It is one that father would make her repeat when her mother was on the warpath. More than ever before, she is convinced that Henry is being honest about his claims. In the end, however, that belief changes nothing because Red is still in chains.
Regina quickly clamps down on her emotions. "Good boy," she says, and then makes to leave the room. She stops to hover in the doorway, turning back to look at Henry, who is studying her closely. "Lock the door when I leave. Goodnight."
"Goodnight, Mom," he replies. As she pulls the door closed, she hears Henry set his book aside and rise. She lingers just outside, following the sound of his boots as he approaches the door, and only moves to her own room upon hearing the clinking of the lock and his return to the other side of his room.
The moment Regina is inside her chambers, she closes and locks the door then presses her back into it as her caged emotions burst free from their frail bonds.
Red. Her sweet, beautiful Red. So pristine, so compassionate, so selfless, but now ruined. The torment of Red being violated before her eyes slices through what optimism Henry has inspired, and Regina feels the strength in her legs rapidly dwindle. Red's voice then begins to swirl around in her brain, taunting her ceaselessly for her failures while also entreating for salvation.
Unable to hold herself up any longer, Regina slides helplessly down the door until she is curled up into a ball at the base. She is fracturing critically, she knows, to the point that her facade of invulnerability threatens to crumble.
"So this is what insanity feels like," she thinks, and quite unexpectedly feels pangs of sympathy for the Queen. If this is how Snow had felt after James' death, it is no wonder the woman snapped. Red is not even dead and already Regina is losing her grip.
She isn't sure how long she is in the floor before her own exhaustion overwhelms her. Somehow, as she had the night before, she manages to wobble her way upright and then stagger over to the bed.
After making quick but sloppy work of removing her boots and stripping down to her underwear, she crawls beneath the sheets. Her arms ache for Red's preternatural warmth, so she latches onto one of the uncomfortable pillows and snuggles up to it as closely as she can. It is a poor substitute, but in her addled state she can tell little difference.
"I love you so much, and I miss you," she whispers, her eyes open but no longer seeing her decrepit room. The ghost of Red's glory fills her vision, and she revels in the sight of twinkling green eyes, tumbling brown curls and a smile that can illuminate even the most tenebrous abyss. "Please don't give up on me. Just hang on. I'm coming for you."
Regina continues to mutter promises and endearments and random half-delirious nonsense into the empty room until she finally falls asleep.