Regina allowed herself a small smile as she gazed as the bandaged hand next to her coffee cup. She'd forgotten how much neater bandages were when someone else did them for you. And David's touch had been so tender, even though he was once again angry with her for refusing to seek proper medical treatment. But really, what was the point of having a live-in battle-proven knight if he wasn't willing to sew a few stitches for you?
A surprising consequence of her injured hand was increased respect from her son. After his initial horror had passed and he had realized that she would be all right, he appeared awe-struck by the fact that she didn't even flinch, let alone cry, while David stitched her up. She hadn't wanted him to watch, but he refused to leave her side. And, given that there was a small possibility that their magical retrieval operation could go very, very wrong, she had thought this provided a good opportunity to expose him to minor injuries—because it was minor, whatever David said to the contrary.
It had been nice, though. Seeing her son realize that she could take pain and not just inflict it.
And training him in magic was improving their relationship more than she'd initially believed was possible.
"You know how, when you sneak extra cookies behind my back, you have that burst of energy and sometimes your heart starts beating really fast?" Regina asked.
"You know about that?" Henry replied. He was always so careful to put the lid back on the jar the exact same way. "And you let me keep doing it?"
"I thought they'd taste better if you weren't allowed to have them," Regina replied.
Henry was dumbfounded. He'd always thought his mother was rigidly strict. And, leading up to the breaking of the curse, he had begun to think that his memories of her sense of humor from when he was little had been wishful thinking, but it wasn't. His mom did have a sense of fun.
"Magic is kind of like the cookies. If you're not used to having them, or if you have more than you're used to, it affects your body." She gave the ruins of Henry's castle an appraising look as she explained. "Since we are about to do some pretty serious magic to bring Emma and Snow back, I need to stretch out my magical muscles."
"You need to practice so you don't get a magical sugar rush?" Henry asked curiously.
"Essentially, yes," Regina replied with a smile. "Is that okay? I know that my doing magic makes you nervous."
"It's okay, Mom," Henry said. "I just don't want you to go bad again. I want you to keep being my mom. The Evil Queen isn't my mom. You are."
Regina gave her son a small smile. This is what she was working for. "I won't, Henry. This isn't dark magic."
"But all magic comes with a price," Henry said, recalling something he'd heard Mr. Gold say.
Regina arched an eyebrow. "That," she said, "is not strictly true. It would be more accurate to say that all interactions with Gold always come with a price." Her face took on a serious expression as she turned to her son. "Now, what color would you like the slide to be?"
Henry smiled broadly as he understood his mother's intention. "Bright yellow!"
"I hear Henry's castle is back and better than ever," Ruby said, as she refilled Regina's coffee cup.
Regina smiled subtly at the memory. Henry had been thrilled with the result. She had been equally pleased that her magic was coming back to her after a few similarly simple projects.
"I also heard that all of the potholes in town have been filled, the roof at the school has been fixed, and there is some new landscaping around the Storybrooke sign," Ruby said. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about any of that, would you?"
Regina shrugged. "That doesn't sound familiar," she replied with an expression of mock-innocence.
"Right," Ruby replied disbelievingly, a look of approval hidden underneath a stern expression—an expression that made the family resemblance between the young woman and her grandmother undeniable. "Well, nice of you to use your power for good rather than your usual evil," Ruby said flippantly. "Way to branch out."
Regina smirked as the wolf-woman walked away. "Thanks." She knew Ruby would never really forgive her or trust her, but their dynamic had evolved into something neutral and, occasionally, something fun.
The rest of the town was another matter entirely. As she had expected, many of the townspeople assumed that she had bewitched David in order to steal Snow White's husband and regain custody of Henry. This assumption had the odd effect of making some of the townspeople more afraid of her than ever and spurring others to the occasional brave act of yelling slurs at her while she crossed the street or egging her car. The fear was preferable; it required less action from her. She'd had to renew the enchantments around her home and her car to deal with the vigilante eggers. The enchantments in and of themselves were simple enough, but no spell was perfect, and she was worried that someone would accidentally hurt Henry instead of her.
She breathed a sigh of relief. The spell to retrieve Snow and Emma was only one day away. One more day and Henry would be safely back with his biological family. She had been allowing the mild attacks from the townspeople to go unanswered, but if she continued to leave them unpunished, she knew they would become bolder with their assaults. She didn't want to upset Henry, though, by restoring fear in the populace, as tempting as that option was. It would be so simple. Just a few tricks with fire really. For some reason fire seemed to be the most efficient parlor trick at engendering fear. Odd, since it often takes far less flash to kill someone.
Personally, she'd never been scared of fire. She'd always assumed she'd die from lack of air.
"You want me to do what?" Henry asked with disbelief. He hadn't admired his mother's work on his new "castle" for five minutes before she suggested resuming his magic lessons.
"I am going to place you under a binding spell; it's going to seem like tight rope is tied around your arms and chest," Regina explained again, "And I want you to break it."
"You're going to tie me up with magic, and I'm supposed to be able to get out?" Henry said. "But you're the Evil Queen, like that you're really powerful, not that you're evil anymore. How am I supposed to break one of your spells?"
"Henry," Regina placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder and bent to look him in the eye, "All spells can be broken. And I'm going to teach you how." You also might be the most powerful sorcerer in Storybrooke, but you don't need to know that quite yet—if ever.
"Okay," Henry said, standing stiffly, once again acting the part of the brave knight.
"It shouldn't hurt. It should merely restrict your movement, so let me know if it's too tight," Regina said, suddenly worried. She was about to perform one of her mother's favorite lessons on her own son, something she swore she would never do. She felt ill.
Taking a deep breath, Regina composed herself. This was different. This was to train Henry, to help him. At his request. And she would never bind him again. Not once he'd learned to break it. Resolved, she allowed brief sparks of violet to dance from her fingertips, and Henry instinctively began struggling against the invisible restraints.
"Stop moving, dear," Regina instructed. "It's like quicksand, fighting it makes the predicament worse."
Henry followed her directions and found that she was right, like she almost always was. "Now what?" he asked.
"Now you break it," Regina told him, standing several feet away.
"Mo-om!" Henry whined in frustration.
"I don't mean to tease you, Henry," Regina said, "But I can learn a lot about your magic and your relationship with it by watching you try without directions first. Don't worry; I'm right here to help if you need it."
Appeased, but still irritated, Henry let out a huff as he tried to think. Maybe he could slip out? But the ropes stayed around him as he tried to slide out.
"Try to get out magically, dear, not physically," Regina reminded him.
Henry stopped moving again and closed his eyes.
He wasn't sure how long his eyes had been closed, but when he opened them, he could move—the restraints were gone—and he felt something that was like safety flowing through him, if safety felt like a warm glow.
"I did it!" Henry exclaimed to his mom.
"You did!" Regina replied excited and proud, but her voice sounded strange from where she was sitting on the park bench. "Great job, sweetheart," she smiled.
"Thanks, Mom!" Henry bounded over and sat beside her, eager to explain his magical victory. "I just thought about shooting rubber bands at school—when other kids do it, not me—and how sometimes the rubber bands snap if you pull them too tightly, and I just thought, why can't magic work like that too? And it does!"
"Very clever, dear," Regina smiled in approval as she hugged her son around his shoulders. In addition to his magical success, she couldn't help but feel happy that her sneaky son was still a lousy liar. It was evidence that she couldn't have done everything wrong as a mother; her son was still innocent.
"How long did it take me?" Henry asked. "I lost track of time while I was focusing."
"Just under fifteen minutes, dear," Regina answered.
"Is that long?" Henry asked self-critically.
"No," Regina replied. "It was the perfect length of time."
At Henry's doubtful look, she continued, "The object wasn't speed, Henry. It was to familiarize both of us with your magic. And you did it. By yourself. Without any help from me."
Henry smiled. He was a magician! "Can we do it again?" he asked excitedly.
Regina laughed, "Not today, dear. Maybe another time." She smiled down at her son. "For now, what do you say we take a break and enjoy the weather? I don't think you had time to properly break in your castle earlier."
"Okay, Mom!" Henry would ask again later. For now, he was going to do the monkey bars again. It would help make his arms stronger for sword fighting with David later.
The moment he broke her binding spell, she knew.
Initially, when Henry had started crudely using his magic to examine her spell, she hadn't felt much at all. But as soon as he selected a strategy, she felt it. It was as though static electricity danced along and off her skin. Distracting and annoying at first, but, after ten minutes, the disconnected energy had taken its toll. She's pretty sure she'd used magic to move the park bench closer to her; she didn't think she'd been able to walk. She had felt surprise and gratitude when her knees had obeyed her brain's command and allowed her to sit on the bench. The relief had been fleeting, however. Beads of sweat had evaporated as they formed on her skin, causing her to shiver as the static electricity had continued to dance. Maybe she should have made the park benches rubber rather than metal. Maybe then she'd feel grounded.
But when her teeth began to jar against one another, it had all stopped. The static electricity had gone, and the air had stilled. She had been spent and slightly chilled from the sheen of sweat along her skin, but she had been okay. And so had Henry. And he had done it. Her little sorcerer.
He was so powerful.
Which is why she was sitting at the diner staring at a cup of decaf coffee in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon.
Regina and Henry had spent the remainder of Monday afternoon at his castle. After Henry had thoroughly explored the new playground, he joined his mom on the bench. She didn't seem quite ready to leave, and he wasn't really ready either. For so long, he had been working against his mom, pulling Emma and Archie into Operation Cobra to defeat her. Then, he'd kept his focus on the mission, ignoring any happy memories he'd had with his mom. He remembered loving her when he was little—before he'd figured out the curse—and he didn't want her to get hurt. But, as the Evil Queen, she had hurt people. So he'd had to create Operation Cobra.
Now, he had a chance to love his mom and not feel guilty about it. She was working with the good guys. And she was letting him stay home from school this week. Something about needing the time to learn and practice magic and the substitute teacher, Mr. Heron, not being able to tell a pumpkin from an apple or a horse from an ass. He didn't think she meant for him to hear that last part, though.
"Do you want to see my book?" he asked.
"If you'd like to show it to me," Regina said with a small, surprised smile. She had read it cover to cover, but not with Henry's knowledge or permission.
Excited, Henry pulled the book from his bag and handed it to her. Maybe his mom could tell him even more about the people and events that it described.
"Do you know all of the people in the book?" he asked as she flipped through the pictures.
"Some of them. Others I know of, but never met. And there are a few stories that I don't recognize, but that could be because I don't know them or because they've been changed beyond recognition," she said.
"You don't think they are true?" Henry asked curiously. "But the book was right about the curse."
Regina hummed in acknowledgement as she continued to turn the pages. "Have thematic truth isn't necessarily the same thing as being factually accurate," she said. "Stories are often told to convey meaning beyond dates, names, and times. And, given what is and isn't included in here, I think that it is far more likely that your book was created with the larger purpose of making sure the curse would break rather than for the purpose of accurately cataloguing the history of our land."
Henry digested her words. "So what's true?"
Regina laughed lightly. "We may never know without asking each person, and even then, we should expect some contradictions. For example, it is unlikely that the Bhaer family would tell the same story as Goldilocks, now isn't it?"
"I guess," Henry agreed. "Why do you think the books here changed that family of people into brown bears in that story?"
"Well," Regina said, "They did have bears on their crest. But, my guess is that the illustrators had more fun drawing bears than people-Bhaers."
"Probably," Henry agreed. "Did you ever meet King Midas?" There wasn't much about Midas in his book. Only that his daughter, Abigail, was engaged to his grandfather when he met Snow White.
"I did," Regina smiled at her son's interest. "Why don't we talk about him back at the house over dinner? I bet David would have some interesting observations to add to any conversation about his near-father-in-law."
"Okay," Henry agreed quickly. He couldn't wait to get the real story about one of the characters in his book.
Later, when they got back to the house, David was already preparing dinner.
"Hey," he smiled at Regina as she and Henry walked into the kitchen. "I hope you don't mind," he gestured to the mess that would be dinner.
"Mind?" Regina asked, "Definitely not. Thank you," she said sincerely as she moved beside him to investigate what he had simmering on the stove, running her hand across his shoulder blades as she did so. Their magical connection crackled and popped beyond its usual humming, reminding her of her rule: don't touch the gorgeous man, because it only leads to wanting to touch him more. A lot more. And that is a Bad Idea. Very bad. So bad it's good. She shook her head to snap herself out of her current train of thought—a train she needed to derail. He'd only be living with her until Thursday. She just had to make it through three more days, and then he would be out of her house. She could do this.
"You're welcome," he replied with a smile and a look that told her he knew exactly what she was thinking and that he knew exactly what to do about it.
She was wrong. She was never going to make it to Thursday.
"Tacos?" Henry said excitedly.
"Yep," David confirmed.
"Awesome!" Henry exclaimed.
"Go wash up for dinner, Henry," Regina told him.
"Okay," he said and scurried from the room.
"He must really be excited; he almost always whines and drags his heels when I ask him to do that," Regina commented.
"How did it go today?" David asked, continuing to prepare dinner.
"It went well. Better—or worse, depending on how you look at it—than I could have hoped," Regina said.
"What do you mean? Was he able to break the binding spell?" David asked, stirring the corn concoction on the stove.
"He was. And he wasn't even angry when he did it. Most amateur magic-users draw on strong emotions for power, but he didn't have to," Regina said. She sighed and concluded, "He definitely has the power necessary to do the spell."
"You don't sound thrilled," David observed.
"That concern I had, about Henry being the most magically powerful person in Storybrooke, well, I might be right," Regina said. "And I don't know what to do about that."
"We'll figure it out," David assured her as he placed a hand along her shoulder and began to massage it. "I'd love to rub your neck, but I don't want to hurt you. How are your bruises today?"
"Like you didn't notice when you caught me in only a towel this morning?" Regina teased.
"Actually, I didn't. My attention was not on your neck at the time," David flashed her a roguish grin.
"And to think people call you 'Charming,'" Regina mock-admonished. "If only they knew."
"Seriously, Regina, how are you? Are the stitches in your hand holding up? And how is the bruising around your neck?" David asked intently.
"My stitches are fine. You did a lovely job. My neck is an ugly shade of green, but the turtlenecks are doing their job, and it seems to be healing just like any other massive bruise," Regina answered impatiently. "I'm fine, David. You don't need to worry."
"You seem tired," he replied.
"Like I said," Regina's tone was laced with sarcasm, "Charming."
"I have the strongest impulse to kiss that smirk right off your face," David stated as he put the corn into a serving dish.
Something flared within her at his words, but Regina quickly recovered and moved into his personal space, mere millimeters from his body, "What a difficult situation for you," she murmured into his ear, never actually touching him.
David exhaled shakily, "You cruel, cruel woman," he accused, the glint in his eyes giving away the effect that 'cruelty' had on him.
"I'm evil, remember?" she practically purred. "It's not only allowed, it's expected. And I do so hate to disappoint people."
David was spared the task of replying to this blatantly false statement by the return of Henry.
"Is it taco time?" Henry asked.
"Sure thing, kiddo," David replied. "Grab a plate and assemble at the counter."
"Awesome!" Henry said, following David's instructions.
Regina smiled fondly at her son. She hated the circumstances, but she was immeasurably grateful to see him so happy and secure.
"If you let people see the look on your face right now," David whispered from his place beside her, "they would never call you 'The Evil Queen' again."
Regina scoffed. "Make your taco, Charming," she said with a slight shove and a sardonic smile.
Once they were settled at the table, Henry was ready for this promised story, "So, Mom, how did you meet Midas?"
David gave her a surprised look. "I didn't know you knew Midas."
"After the king's death, most of the monarchs in the region came by to . . . take my temperature, so to speak," Regina explained.
"He proposed," David stated.
Regina nodded. "He thought my kingdom needed his gold, and I guess he wanted some company once Abigail inevitably married, even if his son-in-law had not yet been identified."
"That could have been you, Grandpa," Henry pointed out. He then scrunched up his face, as he thought through the relationships involved, "Mom, you were almost his mother-in-law a completely different way."
Regina laughed, "I suppose so. It appears we were destined to be family."
David returned her smile with a wink, "Definitely."
"I also could have been your fake step-mother," Regina said nonchalantly.
"You could have . . .?" David's sentence trailed off as his brain wrapped around her statement. "Wait. You mean, George . . ." His face screwed up in disgust.
"Proposed. Yes." Regina confirmed, enjoying the prince's discomfort. "About a year after the king's death, probably about the time your brother died, he showed up at my castle and proposed an alliance by marriage. He had noticed the upturn my kingdom had taken since the king's death and wanted to share in the prosperity. Unfortunately for him, he had nothing I wanted, and, as Rumpel is fond of reminding me, it takes two interested parties to make a deal. Of course, I had no idea my refusal would impact you in such a way." Her eyes held an apology for David. That series of events had cost him his freedom and his mother. "But, yes, I could have been your step-mother in addition to Snow's," she said, lightening the mood.
"That is wrong on so many levels," David groaned.
Henry knew he was missing something, but laughed at his grandfather's antics. It was nice having dinner like this. With everyone comfortable. He hoped it would stay like this after Emma and Snow were back too.
Something snapped into place for David, though, as he thought over the proposals Regina received. "The economics of the land did improve dramatically after Leopold's death," David spoke as he searched his memory, realization dawning on his face. "The poorest people in the White kingdom fared a lot better after he died. Plagues killing the livestock were fewer, the crops did better, and trade among different villages increased. How did you do that?" he asked Regina.
"Did you do a bunch of magic, Mom?" Henry asked. Operation Boomerang was making him wonder if maybe magic could be a good thing sometimes.
Regina laughed at her son's still-new enthusiasm for her magic. "It didn't take that much, Henry," she said. "The healthier livestock and crops was due more to some simple changes in farming practices, and the increased trade, well, I suspect that's how my moniker of 'The Evil Queen' came about."
"I think I remember something about that," David said. "King Leopold died, and in the following months bandits fled his former kingdom after several groups of highwaymen were apprehended and executed for attacking tradesmen."
Regina nodded. "The king never liked to enforce the laws of the land. Even when the bandits were caught, he would show mercy due to the desperation of their situations. 'They are just trying to support their families,' he would say. No matter that the tradesmen murdered on the side of the road were trying to do the same thing." She shook her head slowly, still frustrated with Leopold's spinelessness all these years later.
"That is why the villagers would never help Snow or me when we infiltrated your castle," David said, amazed he'd never before noticed the obvious loyalty of Regina's subjects.
Regina neither confirmed nor denied David's observation. "I actually did enjoy that part of being queen, once I had the authority to rule. The king never listened to me; I quit trying to participate after six months or so. It was clear my only function was to make sure Snow was happy and look nice when we had visitors."
David repressed a shudder at the flatness to Regina's tone. No wonder she had developed such a narrow-minded hatred of Snow; it was the only thing she was permitted to think about for . . . how long?
"How old was Snow when you married the king?"
Regina quirked an eyebrow, understanding the real intent behind the seemingly innocuous question. The prince could infer much from her answer.
"Eleven," she said.
"So you were seventeen when you got married?" Henry blurted out; he knew Mary Margaret's age from sneaking a peek at her driver's license when he stole her credit card. He had thought it was so interesting that, each year, the curse would change the years of birth for everyone on their IDs to adjust for their lack of aging. "You would have been in high school here."
"Things were different there," Regina said calmly, avoiding eye contact. She didn't want pity, and she definitely didn't want to see David's expression as he performed the mental math. Married at seventeen. Trapped for thirteen years before she had the king killed when she was thirty. Five years as 'The Evil Queen' before ripping her father's heart out and casting the curse.
It was quite a resume.
"What farming practices did you change?" David asked for both their benefit. He knew she desired a change of subject, and he didn't think he could stomach thinking about her years as Leopold's young bride much longer.
Grateful to him for the subject change, Regina replied quickly. "The two most effective changes were the quick quarantining of sick animals and rotating the sections of land on which crops were planted, leaving some land unused each season to allow the nutrients in the soil to replenish."
David smiled, impressed. "In a land where people didn't believe in or know about contagious disease and where leaving land unused must have seemed crazy, those are radical policies. How did you think to institute them?"
"Before I realized that I would never act as Queen, before I understood that the king would never include me during his life and intended to cut me out of succession when Snow came of age, I made a point to learn as much as I could from the castle's visitors about practices in other kingdoms. Then later, when I had my mirrors, I looked across lands to see what was working and what wasn't."
"You were a good ruler," David squeezed her hand and resisted the urge to kiss it. Henry had remained silent, a strategy he'd developed over the past few days to get the grown-ups to talk more around him. It worked to a degree, but David recollected his presence and released Regina's hand. An act made all the more challenging by the grateful smile she directed toward him.
"Thank you," she said. Uncomfortable with all of the self-revelation, she decided to turn this into a learning opportunity for her son. Temporary home-schooling, so to speak. Putting a lightness into her tone, she addressed him, "Henry, why don't you tell David about a ruler you learned about who had a significant impact on infrastructure?"
"Mo-om," Henry whined. He was supposed to have the week off from school. At her mock-stern gaze, though, he relented. "Alexander the Great conquered a bunch of places and made the Roman empire HUGE. To be able to move his armies around, he built a bunch of roads, which also helped people trade with each other," he spurted the information out quickly and impatiently. "Can I have another taco now?"
"Sure, dear," Regina said. "Later, you can explain to David how the Roman aqueducts worked and what they were used for."
"Fine," Henry whined, even though he didn't really mind. He liked talking about how to build stuff. And the aqueducts were pretty cool.
Regina looked up at the chime of the bell above the diner door. This conversation would not be pleasant, but she could endure the unpleasantness if it meant she would achieve her desired outcome.
"Kathryn," Regina said. Typically she would stand in greeting—that was just good manners—but she was just too tired. "Thank you for coming."
"Yes, well . . . you're the only person to ever ask me to coffee after attempting to murder me," Kathryn said as she slid into the booth. "I must admit to some curiosity."
"Here," Regina handed her an envelope with the word "Legal" and the date neatly printed at the top.
Kathryn glanced at the woman she once considered a friend. Regina didn't seem scheming, which was odd. Intrigued and still somewhat suspicious, she removed the contents of the envelope and scanned them.
"You must be joking," Kathryn looked at the former queen. "Even at fifth in line, you must be joking."
"Do you really think I would joke about something like this?" Regina replied evenly.
Kathryn looked at her, remembering why her Storybrooke-self had thought they could be friends—stripped of her desire for revenge, Regina had an exceptional capacity for loyalty, something Kathryn valued strongly. "No, I don't," she responded. "But you can't possibly think I would agree to help you. You're many things, Regina, but stupid is not one of them."
"No, dear," Regina answered, "I don't expect you to help me. But you're not stupid either. And you know this isn't really for me."
Kathryn sat and studied the woman across from her in silence, waving Ruby away when she approached to take her order. "I won't be staying long," she told the waitress. She'd kept her scarf and gloves on; she hadn't expected to even sit down.
"This doesn't mean I forgive you," Kathryn said.
"I know," Regina replied.
"Okay," Kathryn agreed.
Regina nodded. She would have said thank you, but, as established, this request wasn't for her.
Kathryn left without another word. If she noticed the queen's trembling fingers, she made no mention of it. And if she thought the request was odd, she kept that to herself as well. It seemed Regina was about to get what she deserved; she saw no need to concern herself with it. She just wanted to forget she'd ever met James, Snow, and Regina and get on with her life with Frederick.
Regina allowed herself a long exhale as she watched Kathryn exit.
Now it was time to talk to Granny.