Regina sips at her tea, watching Henry as he peruses the shelves of the library, intently looking for something to show her. To her right sits his mother, Emma, watching him with a faint smile on her face.

"I must have left it upstairs!" Henry finally announces, dashing out of the room, and Emma chuckles, sharing an amused look with Regina as she put her own teacup down.

Regina has been here one day, but it already feels…comfortable. The Jones family has welcomed her into their home eagerly, and she is utterly out of her depths here. Watching their interactions as a family as they ate dinner together the previous evening was incredibly enlightening, for multiple reasons, the least of which was the obvious fact that Captain Jones was not Henry's father.

Regina remembers the shock she felt when Emma Jones appeared, blonde hair and green eyes, and how, upon further inspection, she determined that Henry resembled his mother and not his father. And yet, watching them interact so easily over the dinner table last night, she never once would have guessed that they weren't blood relations (not with the way that Captain Jones teased the young boy, not with the way that Henry was deferential and respectful, caring and kind to the man).

As she slipped beneath the sheets that night, she thought about the predicament that she left behind at the train station (Roland's wide eyes and his father's sad ones linger in her mind, and she sees them clear as day when she finally turns down the oil lamp beside her bed). She falls asleep wondering what it would be like, to raise someone else's child. She has often considered this due to her advanced age and potential marriage prospects, but it's never been something she would willingly choose for herself.

Until now. Until Robin entered her life – and, in many ways, the Jones family, for isn't being a governess just a little bit like raising a child? She may not do the disciplining, but she would come to love Henry in time as he learned from her, she knows it.

"He has a book on the history of New York that he wants to show you," Emma Jones tells her, pulling her out of her thoughts. "Because this is your first time here, he wants to tell you all about it."

"I'd be delighted to learn more about your city," she tells Emma, who smiles kindly.

"Not entirely our city," Emma points out. "We're originally from Boston – we moved here when I married Killian."

"Well I've never been to Boston either – I hope Henry will tell me about that as well," she says, trying to be polite even though she is more than interested in what Emma is telling her. Emma nods and reaches for her teacup.

"Henry doesn't remember much about Boston – I married Killian when he was four, and we've been here ever since," Emma says as she takes a sip of her tea. "Killian was already stationed here, already doing well, and so it made sense to move and wait to see where the winds would take us."

Regina nods. Emma does not seem to care much for discussing her past affairs, launching into talk of where they are off to next which, apparently, is not the continent, but rather to Asia and Australia. Regina feels a prick of anxiety at this change of plans, but she shouldn't be surprised – all of the papers and popular magazines are full of stories all the time of Americans moving abroad, usually missionaries, but she supposes naval officers and their families go as well. She's never been particularly adventurous, but she's ready for a change of scenery.

"Is Henry excited about that?" Regina asks, and Emma raises her eyebrows.

"Ask him when he returns," she says, just as they both hear the stomp of a young boy's feet as he comes barreling down the stairs. Henry clutches a book in his arms, and he runs towards Regina eager to show it to her. It is an atlas, full of pictures of the world and this country.

They spread the atlas out on the floor, and Regina joins Henry on the plush carpet, glancing back only to find that Emma has disappeared and left her with her son. She tries not to be nervous, wondering if this is an informal part of the process, and instead turns her attention to the boy, who is all smiles and excitement as he begins to flip through the pages.

"My father taught me where we will be going," Henry tells her, crawling around on all fours and pointing to various locations on the map. Regina follows along, asking questions where necessary but mostly content to just watch him. He is delightful, and her heart swells at the thought of being his teacher, of spending her days watching him grow.

And then, she thinks of another young boy with brown eyes too, and her heart throbs in her chest.

Her time in New York passes quickly, spent in the company of Henry and his parents, lost in their pleasant little world. She has never seen so much love within a family, has never experienced such kindness and grace – not even Mary-Margaret's family is so loving, she realizes.

Henry hugs her as she prepares to leave, and she can't help but smile at the way that his arms wrap around her waist.

"See you soon, Miss Mills," he tells her before scampering off into the house. Emma offers a polite smile and a hug as well as she says her goodbyes (she is surprised at how informal these people are, and she likes it) and then Regina is following Captain Jones out into the street, to the carriage that will take her to the train, which will take her home to Mary-Margaret's engagement party (and to confront the man she left behind).

"So now you've met our family," Captain Jones says as they ride towards the station. "I hope you will give us the courtesy of your answer before long."

"I didn't know it was up to me," Regina remarks, still uncertain that it's her decision, not theirs.

"Henry is smitten, and my wife and I believe that you would be a welcome addition to our home," he answers, eyes twinkling, and Regina can't help but smile. No one has ever wanted her to be part of their family as much as the Jones family does (at least, no one has told her outright).

She thinks about Robin constantly, wondering if he does want a mother for Henry, wondering if he would ask her to fill that role. She thinks she could do it – she's well aware of the responsibilities of a wife – but there's a part of her that aches for the love that she's seen clearly displayed between Captain Jones and his wife.

"May I ask you a personal question?" she asks, and Captain Jones raises an eyebrow before he nods.

"Go right ahead," he responds, and Regina folds her hands in her lap, looks down at her fingers.

"Was it difficult – for you to come to love someone else's child?" she asks, knowing that her question may very well signify the termination of their professional relationship. To his credit, Captain Jones does not look shocked.

"No," he tells her. "You've met the lad – he's quite the little charmer, isn't he?" When Regina laughs, he laughs as well. "When I met my wife, her husband had been dead for several years, so he had no memory of the man. But I was terrified – how was I going to replace the father he never knew?" Captain Jones scratches the back of his neck, and Regina waits.

"How did you?" she asks. Captain Jones smiles.

"I didn't. I became Henry's father, but on my own terms, without the ghost of his other father hovering over my shoulder. I love that boy like he's my own flesh and blood, and I barely remember that he's not." There is a happiness in his face when he talks about Henry that eases Regina's tempestuous soul, calms the storm that still rages within her. Even if all that Robin wants from her is to raise his child, she thinks that it might be something she could manage.

"Thank you, for telling me that," Regina says, glancing back at her hands once more.

"You'll come to love the child, just as sure as you love their father," Captain Jones says suddenly, and Regina looks up, terrified that he has seen through her so easily. "You're an open book, lass – I've noticed your cautiousness in accepting our offer, and I was fairly certain you would have agreed immediately had there not been some complication."

Regina takes a deep breath, nods. "There is a complication," she admits, "the nature of which I don't fully grasp – yet. I hope to better understand when I arrive home this evening."

The carriage stops, and Captain Jones exits first, helping her out onto the street in front of the busy train terminal. He escorts her to her train, making sure that her baggage is loaded before bidding her goodbye.

"Good luck with your decision," he tells her. "The hardest decisions we have are often the best that we'll ever make."

You'll come to love the child just as sure as you love their father. She can't let go of Captain Jones' words, because for the first time, she realizes that she may very well love Robin (at least, whatever love means to her now, which is so very different than when she loved Daniel). But there is a part of her, however small, that wonders if he cares for her the same way.

You concern me, he said to her the night they first kissed. She thinks about those words the entire ride home, watching the countryside. She has never been anyone's concern – burden, yes, but never a concern – and the thought is a strange one to consider.

Robin is waiting for her at the station.

She spots him when her feet touch the ground, and he approaches her before she can compose herself. He is alone, and she is almost grateful for it, because the nature of their conversation is not one she wishes his son to witness.

"I'm sorry," is the first thing he tells her, before she can even check to see if there is someone from the house to take her home. She glances around him, finally spotting Billy, approaching from where he left the carriage. She turns back to Robin (just looking at him makes her face flush and her heart race, what if she's been so presumptuous about his intentions, so presumptuous about his affections, but she is his concern - )

"I don't have time to talk about this right now," she tells him firmly. "Mary-Margaret's dinner is tonight and I have to get ready." Not only that, but she can no longer control her mind, is helpless as it spins out of her control the moment she sees him, they moment that they speak (she is a confused mess, she cannot do this, she has to walk away- )

She moves past him, gesturing for Billy to take her luggage, to carry them to the carriage.

"We should talk - when can I see you alone?" he asks, and she stops. There is a war inside of her – she wants to be alone with him and yet she doesn't. She wants to talk to him, and yet she doesn't. She's not sure what his apology means, not within the context of anything that has happened between them.

She's never been anyone's concern before.

Regina takes a deep breath. Her mother might be an overbearing witch, but she taught both of her daughters that the key to social success was maintaining the illusion of control. Emotions have always been Regina's weakness, and she thought she had taught herself to lock away her feelings ages ago, when the first whispers about her unmarried status started to circulate through the parlors of Storybrooke. She thought she was better than letting everything consume her soul (in the middle of the Storybrooke train station no less).

She was wrong.

She's never been anyone's concern before.

She takes a deep breath before the plunge.

"Goodbye, Mr. Locksley," she says, turning to him and fixing a cold smile on her face (she has become Winter, beautiful and austere, the blood running icily through her veins). The look on his face is utterly despondent as she turns and walks towards her carriage, refusing to look back.

The ride home is spent in silence, as she tries (and fails) to not think about him, and she practically runs up the stairs to her bedroom, closing the door behind her once her luggage is returned. She lays face-down on her bed, grabbing her pillow and clutching it tightly to her chest. Her thoughts return to the Jones family, the way that Captain Jones looked at his wife, the way that she returned his gaze, and never has Regina wanted that marital intimacy more than right now, when she's thrown away her last chance at that happiness all together, left behind to wither and die at the station.

Captain Jones was right: she would have accepted the offer weeks ago, before Robin, before she knew that there could be something else in her life. She would have accepted it immediately if she felt that she had no other options. The only reason she applied was because she wanted something better than this life, and now there's something better at her fingertips, and she has let it slip away.

The tears come, fierce and violent, and she sobs into the pillow until her chest heaves and her nose runs. She sits up slowly, dizzy in her grief, catching a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes are red and puffy, her cheeks swollen, her hair a mess, all because she was crying for him.

And that is when Regina knows, without a doubt, that she loves him.

She loves him and his stupid notes and the flowers he brought her, the way that he was so gentle when he kissed her, the way that he looks as her like she's something other than who she thinks she is. She wants to love his son, the little boy with big brown eyes and brown curls, the little boy who looks like he could be her own child. She wants whatever he will offer her, because as lovely as the Jones family was, as welcoming and open, she does not think that she can let go of the idea that she might have to give up the possibility of her own family, not when it might be so close.

Presuming that he wants her, still (he did meet her at the train station, after all).

Regina runs her fingers across her cheek, brushing the trail of tears away. She cannot go to the party looking like this (not that she wants to go to the party but she must, it would be poor behavior of her not to attend, not after all that Mary-Margaret has done for her). She knows Robin will be there, but she takes a deep breath, and vows not to think of it until she sees him.

She rings for a maid to draw a bath, and glances back at the wretched woman in the mirror. She sets her shoulders back, tilts her chin upwards. She just has to make it through tonight. That is all. Tonight is not about her. It is about Mary-Margaret, and she will drink champagne and celebrate her happiness.

Tomorrow, she will try to right the wrong she has made today.

Her mother knocks on her door as she is lining her eyes with kohl, paying careful attention to their almond shape. Cora leans against the jamb, fiddling with a bracelet on her wrist, watching Regina.

"I heard that Mr. Locksley met you at the train station today," she says. Regina does not react (she will not give her mother tinder to fuel the fire of her self-doubt) nor is she surprised that someone noticed and told her mother.

"He did," she tells her mother. She waits with bated breath to hear what is next, dipping her brush back into the pot of kohl.

"I also hear that he has walked you home from your uncle's house," Cora adds, stepping closer. She reaches past Regina, selects an ornament from the jewelry box. She twists it into Regina's elaborately-done hair, adding more embellishment.

"He has," Regina tells her mother. She finishes one eye, proceeds to the other.

"I also heard he has a young son," Cora remarks, brushing her hands across Regina's neck, straightening the exaggerated high collar of her gown.

"He does," she says, feeling the tension in the room grow. She is careful to avoid her mother's gaze.

"How interesting. Perhaps in your old age you've decided that you'd much prefer to be a nursemaid rather than a wife," Cora remarks. "You look lovely in red, darling. Be careful with your rouge –you don't want to look like a harlot."

With that statement, Cora turns and exist the room, leaving Regina alone to her thoughts. She tries, but fails, to wonder if whether or not her mother is right about her – too old to be a pretty young wife, just the right age for someone's nurse, since she'll never have children of her own at this age.

She places the pot of kohl down and stares at her reflection in the mirror. She will not cry, she will not cry

She smiles at herself, noticing way that her mouth curves upwards, the coldness of her expression. "I'm so very happy for you both," she says, practicing what she will say to her cousin (and if her smile does not quite meet her eyes, well, she doubts anyone will notice).

"Uncle Leopold has outdone himself," Zelena remarks as they step out of the carriage and onto the path. There are paper lanterns lighting the way, paper lanterns hanging from the pergola over the footpath, strung across the porch, decorating every surface. There are servants with champagne who greet them upon arrival, and Regina quickly grabs a flute, taking a sip.

Mary-Margaret and David are the center of attention, and Regina has to admit that her cousin has never looked more beautiful, awash in the glow of new love. Her eyes fall on Regina and she grows brighter, if that's even possible, pushing past the others to latch onto her cousin's hand and draw her into the small front parlor.

"You look beautiful," Regina remarks, but Mary-Margaret is buzzing with energy as she picks up a rose and a note from a nearby side table.

"Mr. Locksley brought this for you," she tells Regina, smile wide. "He says to read the note, and then to make your decision." She leans forward and presses a kiss to Regina's cheek before darting out of the room, leaving Regina alone.

She sighs, finishing the glass of champagne before placing it and the rose on the table. She opens the note.

My darling Regina –

I know have done little in the past week to endear myself to your good graces, but I feel that I must state my case plainly so that you may make the final judgment.

If you so choose let me know by wearing the red rose in your hair. Then, at half-past eight, meet me at the gazebo so that I might endeavor to apologize again.

Her finger the paper tightly, and she looks up, around the room, anywhere but at the words in front of her.

She has never had to make a decision like this, never had to choose between two options. She has lived for so long letting everyone else decide for her – her mother, her father, the damned Union troops who claimed so many lives of so many good men, Daniel included. For the first time in her life, it is up to her to choose her path.

She thinks of Emma Jones, and the way her eyes lit up the moment her husband walked into the room. She thinks of Henry, content and loved by two parents.

She looks at the rose, remembering the first night she saw him here, the way that he handed her a similar rose. She remembers all the flower bouquets, all of the notes passed between them, kisses exchanged freely and without reservation.

He brought his son to meet her.

She reaches for the rose, careful not to prick her finger on the thorn, and walks over to the mirror that hangs by the dormant fireplace. She threads the rose into her hair, careful not to harm the elaborate twist, surprised that it matches the red dress she is wearing tonight.

Regina will, at least, hear him out (she places her hand on her chest, as if to calm her heart which beats its own rapid tattoo).

She rejoins the others, catching Mary-Margaret's eye and watching her beam in response. Regina can't help but giggle, catching herself by covering her mouth with her hand, and when she looks for someone for more champagne, she spots him across the room.

He looks at her, and at the rose she wears, and the smile that slowly spreads across his face makes her heart soar. She looks away, glances at the clock, and realizes she has more than an hour before she will meet him at the gazebo.

She cannot wait, not right now, and so she catches his eye again, nods her head towards the doors to the veranda. On her way out, she grabs another glass of champagne, and then makes her way down the steps, treading carefully across the grass in her heels, lifting up her skirt with her free hand.

The gazebo is lit with paper lanterns as well, and by the time she steps up onto the wooden floor, she feels like she is in a fairy tale.

"Is this how it should be?"

She turns around. "How what should be?" she asks, watching Robin approach with his own glass of champagne.

"You told me that princes tend to meet their princesses at night, under the cover of the moon," he admits. "You are certainly as lovely as any princess I've ever imagined." He brushes his fingers against the shell of her ear, touching the rose delicately, and she can't help but shudder.

"If you think so, I certainly won't dissuade you," she tells him, taking a sip of her champagne to avoid talking until she gather her thoughts (they care scattered in the wind at the touch of his hand, and she only now realizes how much she has missed him, now at they have been separated). She finishes the glass quickly, placing it on the railing beside her.

"How was New York?" he asks politely.

"The Jones family was very kind," Regina tells him. "And very loving, towards each other and towards perfect strangers. It was…illuminating," she adds.

"Illuminating?" Robin asks, raising his eyebrows in response.

Regina nods, smiling. "I learned something about myself while I was there," she says. She takes a deep breath. "I apologize for my behavior earlier today."

"It is I who should be apologizing for my behavior – that was rash, for me to accost you there. In truth, I have spent the past few days thinking of nothing but you, and our parting, and I could not spare another minute before I made amends." Robin looks down at his glass, finishes the champagne and puts the empty flute on the table in the center of the gazebo.

"I'm sorry for not telling you I had a son," Robin says, leaning back against the railing. "He has been the most precious thing that I have, and I had not wanted to involve him until I was absolutely sure how I felt about you."

"And how do you feel about me?" Regina asks, emboldened by the champagne and her own desire to control her destiny. Robin reaches for her hand, draws her near to him, so near that she can feel every exhale across her collarbone.

"You are, without a doubt, the most wonderful person I have ever met," he says. "Contrary to what you may believe, I don't just run off to kiss girls under gazebos every day."

"Is that true?" she remarks with a raised eyebrow, and Robin brings her hand towards him, presses it against his heart (she feels the strong steady beat beneath her palm and her eyelids flutter shut, she is so overwhelmed by this moment).

"I have been smitten with you since you spoke to me in the Jefferson Hotel tea room. I have been in love with you since you responded to my first note."

When Regina opens her eyes again, Robin is looking at her, eyes tracing her face, looking for something – her own feelings, she knows.

"Do you want to know what I learned in New York?" Regina asks, surprised that her voice comes out a harsh whisper, but his other hand is pulling her close to him.

"I do."

"I watched them – Captain Jones and his wife, and their son – and I have never been more envious of something in my entire life than that family. Never thought I'd have anything like that, and that being a governess for a family who loved each other would be enough…" Regina trails off, and Robin asks, "But?"

"But then I met you," she tells him, eyes finding his in the dim light of the gazebo. "I know I'm old, and I'm on the shelf – "

"You are absolutely stunning, in every way." Robin's hand comes up to her face again, his thumb running over her lip before he pulls her close, leaning down and brushing his lips against her own. Regina sighs, leaning into his embrace, losing herself in his kiss.

Robin breaks the kiss first. "Marry me," he asks, mouth hovering close to her. He peppers her face with kisses, along her brow and her cheeks, lightly across her lips again. "Marry me, Regina Mills, and I promise to take good care of your heart."

Regina gasps at his words, taking a step back but his arms hold her close to him. She rests her head against his shoulder, feeling her breath catch in her chest. She grips the label of his coat, tries to hold herself steady. Her entire body sings yes but there is still one part of her that worries that this is just for Roland's sake –

"Are you asking me to marry you because you want a mother for your son, or because you want a wife?" she whispers into his neck, and Robin chuckles. His hand traces up and down the row of buttons on the back of her dress.

"I want you as my wife, Regina Mills," he tells her. "Roland having you as a mother is merely an added benefit, but I want you."

Regina turns her head to look at Robin, and she knows that she mirrors the smile on his face. She has never wanted anything more than she wants this, and so when she tells him, "Yes," and he captures her lips for another kiss, she has never been happier.

"I'm not planning on staying in Storybrooke," he tells her between kisses, "we'll have to return to Philadelphia," and that makes Regina even happier still. She falls into him until there is nothing but the movement of their lips and his hand on her hip, pulling her closer and closer to him -

"Regina!"

Her mother's harsh tone cuts through the cool summer night and Regina pulls back, hand coming to her lips immediately. Cora Mills stands near the gazebo, glaring at her daughter and at Robin, who merely adjust his jacket with a smile.

"Mrs. Mills, I'm not sure we've been formally introduced," he says without much preamble, stepping down from the gazebo and walking towards her mother. "Robin Locksley – but surely you can't be Regina's mother – you barely look older than Regina herself. Are you quite sure that you are not her sister?"

Cora stumbles for a moment under Robin's praise, and her mouth opens in surprise when he reaches for her hand and brings it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles (Regina has to hide her grin in the palm of her hand). "What are you doing kissing my daughter, Mr. Locksley?"

"Well, Mrs. Mills, I'm actually kissing my future wife, as your daughter has agreed to marry me. But you know, Mrs. Mills, I haven't actually asked for your husband's blessing – not that I doubt he would disapprove of your daughter's choice – "

Robin seamlessly threads his arm through her mother's and turns her in the direction of the house, talking endlessly about marriage and the wedding and Cora cannot get a word in edgewise. Regina leans against the gazebo support. Robin is right – her father will not deny a marriage that she has already consented to, not if it's what she wants (and not to a man who has handled her mother with such skill).

She grabs her dress, lifting it so that she can walk through the damp grass on her way back to the house, heart lighter than it has ever been.

She sends the Jones family notice that she will not be joining them on their great adventure the next morning, and tells them of her impending marriage, and the little boy whose mother she will be.

A week before the wedding – a small, quiet affair at the town hall, with just her father and her uncle as witnesses – she receives a package from them. It is an atlas, bound in brown leather, with a note from Henry and his parents.

Good luck on your adventure! he writes, and she shows the atlas to Robin and Roland that very night when they come to call on her (Roland has fallen in love with her just like his father, Robin likes to tell her). Roland crawls into her lap, asks her to find him Storybrooke and Philadelphia, his tiny fingers curled around the collar of her dress. The atlas is spread on a large table between them, and as Regina traces the pages with her fingers, she glances up to see Robin smiling at them.

She smiles back, realizing that this new life, with these two men, will be exactly the adventure she has been waiting for her entire life.