Chapter 17
Henry peddled his bike as fast as he could, which was not nearly enough for what he needed. It was not like he was afraid or was even a mediocre biker, but when your mother is Regina Mills, you wear your helmet, you knee braces and the elbow braces and go slow because "people are maniacs" and you never know when one of them might be under the influence of some vile substance that diminishes their danger assessment capabilities.
Today, though, he peddled without so much as the helmet and it was great to feel the wind blow his hair back and the sense of purpose in his heart. He hit the brakes and the bike went into a dusty spin on the dirt ground that was not entirely his design but because he managed not to scream, it might actually look good for anyone looking for from afar.
He stashed the bike into the undergrowth. The three guards for the night stood outside smoking and not really paying the cave any apparent mind which did not surprise him anyway. It wasn't like his mom could really go anywhere anyway locked behind magic bars that burned into her skin at the merest contact. He crouched and moved gently through the thicket and stopped only when he was safely tucked inside the cave without them so much as noticing. If he could do this, anyone could come in and hurt his mom. He didn't think the guards would be particularly bothered and his heart thumped louder in his chest.
The coarse sand under his feet crunched under the soles of his trainers but nothing moved but shadows. As he rounded the last of curves down the long winding path to where his mom was kept, Henry heard the Evil Queen: "To somewhere horrible. Absolutely horrible." He heard her cackle - there was no other word for it. He stood rooted to the floor, the straps of his backpack clutched like a life buoy in his cold fingers. Then he heard Emma laugh, an honest to goodness laugh which was a strange sound from her because she smiled but she did not laugh, as if she had misplaced the ability to do it. It was a beautiful sound. And his mother had brought it out.
He leaned against the cold rock wall and inched his head forward so that he could see them as well. And then he just stood there, not really intruding on their moment but wanting to be a part of it anyway.
"I'll miss you." Emma inched the words forward towards Regina as she pushed a lock of hair behind Regina's ear, taking a little extra time on its shell. It brought out a faint smile on Regina, an echo of the wide smile of only seconds ago. It was sad and tired but it was a smile.
"I'll miss you too." And her head slid into Emma's palm. They said I'll miss you but Henry thought that those little words were as good as I love you. And he was okay with it. More than ok. Happy.
"Bring me strawberry cheesecake for breakfast."
"Strawberry cheesecake?" He liked the way that love thing looked on both of them, the hard angles and edges softened, smiles, soft words.
"You said decadent."
"It's a desert. Are you feeling ok?"
"Better than ever. I have a yearning for strawberry cheesecake, though. And it has fruit in it."
"So it does. But no apples."
"I don't like clichés."
"I need to go, now."
Regina only nodded, the smile fading by increments. "I'll see you tomorrow."
"I'll be in early." Henry identified Emma's physical effort of pulling herself away from the bars, leaving Regina there. It was as if she was leaving a part of her behind. She dragged her feet on her way out, her usual quick gait subdued. Emma was tired. She was doing a stellar job of the trial and of keeping his Mom going and balancing everything with Snow and James and she was doing it on her own. It was showing in the dark circles under her eyes, in the way that even her hair looked tired.
Henry followed her almost to the mouth of the cave before she noticed the movement. He could see it in her stance, the sudden terror and the aggression and the fight. And then it's all gone when she realized it was him. And then it was there again. "Kid!" It's not really a plea or an admonition or anything but a mixture of it all.
"Don't worry, Memma, I'll stay with her."
Henry could see it then, see how overwhelmed she really was. Emma pulled him into a fierce hug. "I was going to leave her there and anything… anything could_" And the she stopped herself because he's a boy of eleven only and she had to consider the weight of her words and of her choices.
"I'll take care of her tonight, Memma. You go." Henry tasted the word, worked around it and decided that he liked it. He liked it a lot.
"Anyone could have…"
"No one will. I'm here. No one will do anything while I'm here. Cause, they don't want to scar a kid, you know?"
No, Emma's smiles never lasted long. He wished they did.
"Memma?"
"My Emma. Memma." And the laughter from his dream echoed in his ears.
"I like it."
"Me too. Go. I'll protect her now."
~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~
The guards did snap to attention when Emma walked past them, stood straighter, taller, more imposing. And for all their Quarterback posturing, they cowered a little under the scowl she gave them. Henry did not hear her words but whatever they were, they quickly made their way to the entrance of the cave. Memma was a badass. He smiled to himself just watching her walk all the way to town with those long strides of hers.
He liked it. He liked it very much. At that, he adjusted his backpack and made his way towards the cave, silently down the corridors, a smile still dancing in his eyes. Emma was in charge. His mom was going to be okay.
Or not.
The Blue Fairy was standing in the cave, facing off with his mother, the scowl on her face so angry it made her remarkably ugly. And frightening. His steps slowed and the words became clearer, more distinct.
"Evil is not a disease. It cannot be cured." His mom stood against the bars. He had seen that stance, he had seen it when he had accused her of being the Evil Queen but had not recognized it then, maybe because he was too young. Or probably because he was too selfish: hurt. "You are tainting her with your sins. The savior is light and hope and you will destroy all she stands for. If you have changed, really and truly, leave her be. Let her be the best she can be. Give Emma her best chance." Regina was still standing because she had a backbone, that was all.
"Mom" Henry called from the entrance and when he got her attention, when his voice interrupted the eye contact between his mom and the fairy, he ran to the bars and hugged Regina, his skinny arms going easily through the bars and encircling her waist. "Don't listen" he whispered to her softly. "Don't listen."
"Will you taint your son as well?" Henry felt Regina recoil as if she had been stabbed or shot in the chest. He held on, he refused to let her go.
"Leave her alone. Go away!"
"You love him. You love him dearly. I can see that. Anyone can. But already he cannot see those who come to his defense. Already he is tainted by you, by your defective kind of love. Just like your mother's. Do you really think you can love him well? Do you really think such a perfect child should be here to see what is to become of you, dear?"
Henry's arms slid from his mother's waist and tensed by his sides, his hands balled into fists, small but mighty. "Enough" He said without looking at the fairy. His words echoed through the cave.
"Everything you touch withers. Surely you love them enough to see that." Regina's hands slid off his shoulder as if she had lost all strength to hold on and it was that, that minute movement more than anything that had Henry moving. He launched himself at the fairy and the suddenness of the movement, of the impact had her against the wall in two of Henry's steps. "You have a heart, dear child. I know you do. I never doubted as much. So I beseech you: do what is best for those you love."
"Shut up. Just shut up." And he pushed at her, his hands against her blue habit, pushing at her until, the fairy had the wherewithal to push back, to push from the rock wall and press Henry against the bars.
There was a low hiss that echoed through the cave and whispered through its walls. Regina moved against the bars, to where Henry was pressed against the metal that burned her and pushed at the fairy, willing her magic, any magic, anything at all, to come out of her. Or for the fairy to get closer, just enough so she could gouge her eyes out. "LET GO OF MY SON!"
The fairy released Henry. She was panting and wisps of hair had escaped the subdued bun at her nape.
"Was your father's death not lesson enough?" For such softly whispered words, the effect was absolutely annihilating. And with those words she walked out.
When Henry turned to his mother, the look in her eyes was wild and she was the Evil Queen of his book.
"Mom?" There was a confusing moment of worry and triumph all wrapped in the Evil Queen's eyes: she was back- and there was horror in that thought. She was back- and there was hope in it, too, because he longed for the mother with spark and vitality and this version of her, the meek, subdued and beaten to dust by life version was scarier than the cartoonish evil being that lived in his book and in his nightmares. "Mom?" His hand went to her cheek and cupped it gently. "She's a moron. Don't you listen to her."
"No name calling, Henry." The Evil Queen was gone as if she'd never been. Was he happy or disappointed?
"She deserves it."
"Indeed. But name calling denotes lack of imagination. Do you mind if I sit?"
"Are you tired?"
"A little." She slid to the floor, legs crossed Buda like by the bars, hands on her bent knees, rubbing discretely in her pants.
Henry grabbed the back pack he had abandoned by the entrance the cave when he had heard the voice of the fairy and rummaged through it until it produced his lunchbox, a carton of apple juice, a thermos of coffee and a tube of burn cream. "How about ingrown toe nail?" He opened the thermos and served her a cup, sweetened just the way she liked. It had turned out weaker than was probably decent, but looking at the way her hands were shaking still, this was probably for the best.
"It is still name calling but at least it is more imaginative."
Her wan smile flickered and faded at the smell of coffee and her hand flew to cover her mouth. Henry quickly tipped the cup's contents back into the thermos and covered it. "Are you sick, mom?"
"No, Henry."
"You look like you're going to be sick."
"It's just the smell of coffee. Just some stomach bug." Henry handed her the turkey on rye sandwich and the carton of apple juice.
"I should have brought saltines and ginger ale. You always give me saltines and ginger ale when I'm not feeling well."
"The sandwich is lovely, Henry. Did you make it yourself?" Henry nodded, eager. He should have brought the saltines and the ginger ale. "I toasted the bread too."
"You should not be using electrical appliances on your own."
"Mom! I'm nearly eleven and I'm not stupid."
Regina lowered the sandwich she was trying working up the courage to eat and looked at her son in the eye. "I'm sorry Henry. I know that."
"But you worry just the same."
"I do. I worry about you all the time."
"Well," Henry put down his sandwich too. He was not hungry anyway; his stomach was still a tight knot of nerves. "Tonight you don't have to." He reached for and opened the tube of the burn cream. He held his hand out to his mother and when she took it, he pulled the delicate hand to him and coaxed her finger open. The palms looked scalded, sore. It was not as bad as her neck but he had to work his courage for that. He squeezed a little cream and worked it into her skin, gently. Regina's forehead leaned against the bars and she squeezed her eyes shut tight. Henry took the left hand and applied the cream again, massaging it carefully as if the whole world at that moment existed in that small expanse of skin. "She's wrong, you know?" The answer was a single tear furtively sliding down Regina's chin. "And when I tell Emma what the Blue Fairy said, Emma will beat the crap out of her."
"Henry, please don't. For Emma, please don't." His mother was holding on to his hand in such urgency he could not ignore the plea.
"On one condition. Look at me. Look at me mom!" When Regina did, he continued. "This best chance thing, it stinks. It stank when gramps shoved Emma into that wardrobe, it stank when Emma gave me away, and it will suck lemons if you do it to me. Take your sweater off, please." When Regina was only in a chemise, Henry dabbed the cream on the skin covered in blisters. It amazed him that she had complied so readily. "So don't you dare listen to her. That's my condition. Don't you dare go giving Emma and I our best chance."
"Because it sucks lemons?"
"Well, the expression I want to use is more grown up, but I guess I'm too young for it."
"I guess you are." Regina smiled a rainbow smile, somewhere between the tears and a sunny smile, small, but genuine.
"Promise, mom."
"Henry_"
"No mom, you have to promise. This best chance thing is nothing but bad news."
Regina stared at her son, startled by the earnestness in his expression as if he could see straight into her, into how she was faltering and doubting. As if he could read that for once she could do what was right. It would be so selfish not to, not to release Emma and Henry.
"I promise."
But this promise was one that she might have to break.
~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~
Henry's soft breath was peace. The day Henry had been placed in her arms, she had spent hours listening to his breathing, studying the rise and fall of his chest, the flutter of his eyelids and it brought her peace of mind and heart. On her worst days, she would sit by his crib and then his cot and later his bed and place her hand on his chest, just to feel his heart beat under her palm. Henry was her peace. This was not the Henry of before, the child. This Henry was growing to be a man. And still he slept in peace. Not even the mattress Charming had brought him the night before fettered his sleep. He was smiling as if he was dreaming of happy places.
Henry had been a gift since the very first minute in her arms, stilling her heart, her thoughts, a balm on her battle wounds. She concentrated on his strong heartbeat and willed herself to let that peace come to her again.
"Once upon a time there was a queen. The queen was tired – of how it felt to be her, of clutching hate to her heart because it was the only thing that tethered her to earth. She'd had this feeling for many years that if she stopped hating, if she allowed herself to feel anything but hate, she would just bounce off the earth and go far, far away where no one would even see her because there was nothing and no one to keep her. The queen was the most tired woman in the world."
I hope there will come a time when I won't be afraid of losing the ones I love. I hope there will be a time when I can take someone for granted. One moment only where I will know that we have our whole lives ahead of us, together. No thorny decisions. A moment to quit the struggle, to let go, to relax into the world, into loving arms. To stop resisting life. To be free.
When the Genie gave me that mirror so long ago, I only saw myself in it. There was no one in it with me. I found my mirror now. I found someone like me, the right with my left, the concave with my convex. My defenses have been decimated, my last stand has fallen. I stand revealed in my miserable attire waiting for the moment when disgust will cross her features, for the inevitable moment she will hurt me. And yet, she is Emma. It seems that nothing is really worth it unless I try. I was not alive before, a ghost in my own life. She makes life real for me. The pain, yes, but the hope and the love too. Twenty-nine years of nothing is enough. Life contracts and expands to the measure of your courage.
I am no longer ruler of my universe.
~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~
There were two times in Emma's life. The Time Before Storybrooke and Time After Storybrooke. If this had been Time Before Storybrooke, Emma would have bee-lined to Granny's and taken care of business. This was Time After Storybrooke time. So she walked to Mary Margaret's because she had a mother to check up on.
She took the steps to the apartment two at a time and slid the key home and turned it with slow hands because she did not know how to deal with what was on the other side.
Snow sat by the window, lost in contemplation of the twilight.
"Hey!" Emma aimed for breezy, but what came out was flat and gruff.
"Snow."
"Sorry?"
"Call me by my name. Please. I can imagine it is weird, having a fairy tale character for a mother. Please call me Snow. You can pretend it is a normal name if you want. Like Mary or Paula or something in a foreign language. But please call me by my name."
"What's going on?" Emma pocketed the keys and stuffed her hands in her pockets for lack of options on what to do with them.
Snow turned from the window and clutched at her mug of tea with both hands. Probably for the same reason. "I… nothing."
"Okay." Emma wished it had been Time Before Storybrooke because then she would just march up to her room, change and go out and run all her errands which were many for such little time. But this was Time After Storybrooke. She sighed and approached her mother. "Snow?"
"Twilight is a strange time, isn't it? Not really night, not really day. Do you think there are twilight people? People who are a mixture of darkness and light, good and bad?"
Emma's hands tried to dive further down in her pockets and her chin dipped into her chest. "I think that's all of us. People are neither good nor bad. It's more that they are bad sometimes and good other times…" Emma fidgeted, balancing between her right and her left feet.
"Call me Snow. It's like I have a little of what was lost. I wished you'd call me Momma or Mom. I can live with Snow." She turned to Emma then.
Even if this had been Time Before Storybrooke it would not have helped her. Emma had always been helpless against tears, incapable of dealing with them. She walked to Snow and stood before her, hands firmly wedged into her pockets where it was safe. She did not want to get carried away with promises just so Snow would stop her crying because this was Time After Storybrooke and those promises carried with them an obligation to follow through. Not like before. "I've been alone all my life and_" And it was totally the wrong way to start because Snow's eyes flooded again and she sniffled delicately. Emma made a mental note of the gesture just in case there would ever be a time she'd cry. That was the way to do it and still look human. She took another step forward but her hands still would not come out of her pockets. "Look… What I mean is that this takes some getting used to. I never had anyone to call Mom or Momma, you know, and I'm trying to get used to all of it. Twenty nine years is a long time to be used to something and then just fall into step with something new. That I never expected before."
"I know, Emma. I know. And I'm trying to give you space and time and… and… but… you seem to be doing okay with her. You hold her hands and you hold her up and I see it Emma, I see the way you look at her. And you seem to be doing okay with that. I'm being ridiculous, I know. It's not the same thing but, God, Emma, she brought us all here. I know you don't think it's her fault that you grew up alone, but it is, it is and you love her and you forgave her that but it seems that she is consuming all of you and there is nothing left for me. For us, your father and me, and…"
Well shit. Emma managed to pull her hands out of her pockets but was still unsure what to do with them. This whole affection thing had never worked really well for her. Just look at the one time she'd ben affectionate with anyone- she'd ended up tried and convicted and giving birth in jail. Tentatively, she reached out for Snow. "I didn't realize that I was not calling you by your name."
"You called me mom in court. For everyone else to hear. But you never said it to me. Just to me. I wanted a little of that just for me, to be a private thing, just ours."
And this was why she did not do tears, why she was such a sucker when the waterworks started: now she had a knot in deep in her throat and it felt like she could not breathe and it was like she owed these people and… "Mom."
Snow sobbed. It was a high pitched sound and it echoed through the apartment. She reached her hand for Emma but made no move to touch her. Emma knew this was a bad idea, a bad precedent, but there was that knot in her throat and she didn't know what to do with her hands so she did what normal people did: she slid into Snow's arms and let herself be hugged. And then she closed her arms around Snow and actually hugged back. And by the time she caught her reflection in the mirror it was too late- her face was scrunched up in unflattering lines and her nose was red and running. Damn this. Snow rubbed at her back softly, small up and down strokes and her muscles and her heart relaxed.
It hurt like a bitch. But it felt stupidly good for something she had dreaded so intensely.
.
.
James looked on from the top of the stairs. What had promised to be train wreck of a conversation – he had warned and warned Snow to pace herself, to be patient with Emma, to give her time and space- had turned out to be a feeling fest. He wanted to run down and join it before Emma got her wits about her and put a stopper to it, but he wanted to give Snow one more moment to enjoy before she had to share. And then he slid down the stairs, mindful of any sound that might break the moment and opened his arm to fit his wife and his daughter into himself.
He never had the time to give this moment a thought after he deposited Emma's helpless little form in the wardrobe, but if he had, this would not have been the way. Things were different back home. People felt differently and acted differently. But such as it was, this was okay. It was more than he'd though they would get in such a little time.
~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~
Emma walked with long confident strides despite the red nose and the red eyes and the pounding heart that Snow and James' affections had left in their wake. Snow had insisted she wanted to go with Emma, that she wanted to help her, even if not Regina. It was hard to fault the reasoning. But, she supposed, it seemed they were on the same side and that was a good – if strange- feeling.
When Emma pushed through the door at the diner, she was hit by the unusual silence, the curious stares and a general anxiety in the air.
They made their way to the counter and sat in a neat row, Emma between Snow and James, and it had the curious non-effect of not ruffling her feathers. Granny came from the back and placed a plate of peanut butter cookies in front of them. "Just baked them. Baking is my happy place."
"Thank you for your help, Granny."
"Don't mention it. And I mean that. I don't really want to think back to today." Granny picked a cookie and nibbled at it. "Now, don't you look nice together like this."
Snow beamed at the woman. "She really does have my chin."
"Yeah… and the stubborn streak too. What can I do for you?"
This was it, crunch time, Emma thought - and odds were, she was going to ruin it. "I was wondering… I mean…"
"Well, spit it out, Sheriff. You know you can run a tab here."
"Granny, it's complicated…"
"If you're propositioning me, make it to the point. I am aging as we speak." She touched Emma's hand. Easy affection would never stop surprising Emma and she regarded that pudgy, working hand with interest.
"I don't deserve you, Granny."
"Nonsense! Now spit it out."
"Was there any reason you didn't testify for the Prosecution?"
"Was there any reason you did?" Emma swallowed thick. "I don't like him. I don't think he has the moral high ground to prosecute anyone. Even her. I don't think there is anyone here that is blameless. We all have something we are trying to hide. Or hide from as the case may be."
"Yeah…"
"Granny," Snow interrupted, "what I think Emma is going to ask is if you would speak for the defense."
"Now, that might be a tall order. Are you okay with this, Snow? I mean, I know you spared her once and lived to regret it. But you did have her on the execution dock."
"I know. I know, Granny, but my daughter… Emma, she has this faith in her. Like I had that day. Do you remember that day? I still want her punished, but… I don't know, I want someone to speak for her, to tell me that she is not that bad. That killing her is not the only option."
"Did you ever consider that?" Emma's eyes bulged out of her face, horror stricken.
"It's different back home, Emma."
"Yeah, but this is your home now, isn't it?"
"Sometimes it does not feel like it."
"Snow… Would you kill someone? Even if that someone is Regina?"
"They have death penalty in this land too, Emma."
"Are you prepared to do it yourself? Do you think that that is what good people do?"
"I think some crimes are so heinous that death is all that those who committed them deserve."
"Even after all you've heard? Don't you have enough compassion to believe that if her life had been different this would not have happened?" And she emphasized the this with a wide encompassing gesture. "Don't you believe that for all that was done to her, for all that made her this way, she should have a chance at changing, at living that change?"
"It's complicated, Emma. The way I feel about Regina is complicated."
"Is that the word of the day?"
"No. It's the truth. I want to do this for you. Not for her. That complicates things."
"So that I can love you? Are you trying to buy me off?"
"No. I just know that we can't make you happy on our own. I know that you're not that little baby anymore, that your whole life's happiness is not wrapped up in me and I am trying to atone for my choice then. Your father wanted to keep you with us. He said that at least we would be together. But I couldn't stomach the thought that she'd win… I remember what you said Emma. I know you resent my choice. I am trying to make it up to you."
"Then let her try, too. For her. For what she was to you then and not just for me."
Snow was silent for a long time, mulling her thoughts, chewing them, unable to swallow them. What of that baby? Was that even real or just her losing her ever loving mind?
"Emma", Granny interrupted, shaking cookie crumbs from her blouse, "There are things to be said. There are things that do not damn her. But none of them excuse her, you need to understand. Being here, well, for Ruby it was a reprieve. I cannot thank her enough for that. But I'm not sure up to what point that was her own design and kindness or an accident. But I can be thankful for that anyway. You can have that. Not for you. Not for Snow or against Snow, but for my own conscience. We learn a lot, and pick our lessons where we can. I would be pissed out of my mind if my Ruby was executed for being who she is when she is like that through no fault of her own. The way I see it, Snow, it is similar. You were there. You saw what was left of poor Peter. And what we did then, you and I. I will go and speak, Emma, but only on those terms. And I would prefer if you were not pissy with me afterwards, Snow."
"Pissy about what, Granny?" Red sidled up to Snow and hugged her with the familiarity of their days on the run from the Queen.
"Talking for the defense."
"Oh… that." She squeezed Snow's shoulder. "Are you okay with that?"
"I wish people would stop asking me that."
"Well, depends if you're going to speak to anyone else, because people don't want to upset you. You're like… the queen and we love you, you know that, right?"
"Would you do it if I said it kills me, that it crushes something inside," Snow rubbed at her chest. "Here?"
"Probably not. Though it would break my heart."
"Because it is Emma asking?"
"No. Because I had it good here and most of the Prosecutor's argument is how bad it is here and how screwed over we all were and I don't buy into that. And because we're the good ones."
"Does that mean that we need to let her off the hook? That we should forgive and forget? I can't. I just…"
"I'm not saying that you should. But that we owe it to ourselves to act as good people if that is what we are supposed to be. And good people tell the truth. And my truth is that I was okay here. I've been dreaming of Peter again. Remembering, dreaming… I can't get it out of my mind. I did that, Snow. Here I forgot about it. She did me a favor. More than one if you think about it. No wolf. No memories. I was who I wanted to be without that burden. I'm thankful for that."
"I missed all of Emma growing up. And it hurts, Ruby."
"It does now. But it didn't all this time. She could have made sure you knew and could do nothing about it. That rodent Jefferson, he knew. He knew it every day what he had lost."
"But it hurts now."
"Snow, I love you like a sister, I do. But you are at your most princessy today: spoiled and petulant." Red hugged Snow tight, gentling away part of the sting. "You've always been loved, Snow. I'm pretty sure that was not the case with her. She has it now. Let her prove to you that it can make a difference."
~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~
Dr Whale walked into the diner and immediately turned to walk away the moment he spotted the pow-wow going on at the counter. The air felt heavy and he did not do anything but light and breezy as a matter of habit, but Red waltzed to him and draped her arm over his and he would forever be a sucker for that midriff - not to mention the legs that went for miles and well, all of Ruby was a good looking piece of trouble. "Dr Whale." Oh, hell, that inviting smile. It was so unfair of her to use it as a weapon. "We were wondering what you think of Storybrooke."
"In what context?"
"Do you like it here?"
"Again I ask, Ruby, in what context? Because I have a feeling your charm offensive has ulterior motives. Other than the outrageous flirt you are."
"Maybe… But you've been so serious as of late and… well…"
"Why do you want to know? To the point, please Ruby. I'm easy to manipulate, especially if I am willing, but play nice, please."
"You and me, we're a lot alike, aren't we?"
"Well, you're prettier." That got him the sunniest of smiles from Ruby.
"Thanks."
She was actually fidgeting, Emma noticed.
"Ruby" Granny chided, but her heart was not in it.
"Okay, to the point then, Dr Whale. I feel that I lucked out with the curse. So much crap that I am happy to have left back there that I don't have to carry around here…. How about you?"
"One of these days, Miss Lucas," Whale began after a silent moment, "we're going to have to talk about a couple things."
"Don't tell me that you're going to start taking me serious, now?"
"Would it be so bad?"
"Dunno…."
"In answer to your question, Ruby, I find that I would much prefer to be under that curse still. I am not fond overly fond of my memories. I'd rather be a fake than my real me."
"Well, that's honest."
"Well, that's because I'm inebriated. And I had come in here in the hopes of improving on that condition by becoming drunk. But please, tell me, what is it exactly that you want from me? Because as you know, I am not very charitably inclined. Design fault, you see?"
Ruby took a bottle from the back under the counter, two glasses and sat at a booth with Whale. "If there came a time to explain that you did not resent the curse, would you do it?"
"I presume you mean in a public setting?" Ruby nodded. "Then you must mean the trial. Ruby, I really like you. I've liked you from afar from a long time, and I find that I really would like to like you from a closer point of view. But I cannot speak at the trial. I have sins of my own that I would rather not be revealed… lest I find myself on trial too."
"Yep. We do have more in common that you think, Dr Whale. And I am not offering myself in exchange for that. But I do appreciate a little courage that does not come from a bottle and reeking of whiskey. Will you at least think about it?"
"Will you hold my hand through it?"
"Unlikely. I'd be admiring from afar."
"You're very strict, Miss Lucas. Not as easy going as I'd expect."
"Surprise!"
"Indeed."
"I'll be cheering from the stands."
"I'll think about it."
~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~
Emma stuffed a peanut butter cookie in her mouth and worked through it, giving Ruby and Whale some thought. "I was not expecting that."
"What part of it?" Snow aimed for quip but it fell just a little flat.
"Any?"
"The Whale part surprised me. What on earth do they have in common?" Snow mired Ruby and surrendered to the call of the cookies.
"I'm not sure what Whale's story is," Emma grabbed another cookie and played with it, "but I guess that you don't need much in common, just that one thing that makes the other person the one that understands, without words, the deep of you. The dark or broken or ugly that you do not show others."
"Soul mates?"
"I guess."
"Like you and Regina?"
It did not come across as an attack, Emma told herself. It was just a question. A bit… rough around the edges, but just a question. "Yeah."
"Emma…."
"Mom…" Emma added an eye roll to lighten it up.
"Okay."
"Okay what?"
"Okay, l still need to remain impartial, so I cannot be seen here, but okay. I'm okay with this. With Granny, Ruby and Whale and whoever else feels they are better off here going in there and saying it. Not that I should ever not be okay. Everyone should say what's on their mind. But… you know. I am okay. And I'll try to be okay with all of it."
"Snow, until now… I'm not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, but, until now, there were these times when you helped her. When you said just the right thing at the right time. I don't get it. Why are you so… it's like a crab, you know, one step forward, two back…"
And wasn't that the rub, this thing she had for Regina, that had never really died down nor been enough to save them both. Snow closed her eyes and thought of Emma's hand on Regina's pregnant belly and the world swayed under her feet.
"Well, I don't like it." Granny groused, breaking the moment. "Look at him, all over my baby. His… his… lecherous eyes all over her. And his hands…."
"Granny," Snow intervened, clearing her throat, thankful for the reprieve. "He is staring at his cup. The same one his two hands are holding tight. That is not seduction or lecherous or anything."
James sighed reminding everyone of his presence. "Snow, for all the blond hair on Emma's head, please do not go there. I'm cool, but I'm not made of stone."
"Huh, just you wait until you see someone's paws all over your little girl."
Snow stood, buttoned her coat and stuffed her hands deep in her pockets. "I already did, Granny. And Emma? You understand what Ruby has to lose by testifying?" At that she walked out with James, the bell over the door ringing merrily on their retreating forms. "And for the last time, Charming¸ we were cursed!"
"I'm not a little girl." Emma sulked when the door closed behind her parents.
"The pout is a cute look on you, Princess, but just you wait until you have your own little girl to understand that they can be 70 years old and have no teeth left and you will still look at her and think that's my baby. You'll do anything to protect her from… from Casanovas and Don Juans." Granny spat the names.
"I'd like a little girl."
"Huh. Trouble. Girls- little or big- are nothing but trouble."
Emma patted Granny's hand. "Ruby can take care of herself, Granny. I mean, if anyone can, that's Ruby."
"Just you make sure that her secret remains a secret, Emma. My Ruby already has her lot in life to carry. She does not need another."
"Promise, Granny."
"Good. Because I can still rip you to pieces if something happens to her, you know?"
"Never doubted it for a second."
~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~
The corridor was long and dark and wound around and around, a never ending succession of doors. Different doors all of them- old and new, small and big, red, blue, dark green that made her nails itch, a foreboding shiny black that reminded her of Leopold's state coffin. There were white doors like Snow's room and rustic wooden doors so much like the stables stalls she could all but smell the hay and horse sweat.
There were doors that radiated a coldness that approximated her mother's touch and warm doors that felt like Daniel's. And there were doors that were light and tempting. Like Emma. Soft doors that wafted Henry's soft baby scent. She walked past every single door because there was a corridor and she just had to walk it because to remain where she was hurt too much.
As she walked, her clothes brightened, losing the ink blackness and her hair shortened from long, long hair, up, up, up her back, weighing less and less as she walked. She felt lighter, more capable, more Regina with each door she passed, with each shade of black her clothes lost, with each inch her hair shortened.
A little wisp of gold shattered the darkness of the corridor. It was like a match in the utter darkness, warm and happy and bright. Just a wisp of gold. It moved and danced ahead of her like a firefly in a garden.
Regina followed, unencumbered now by the hair and the blackness of her garments, barefoot. The more she walked, the more the ground smoothed and warmed.
The wisp of gold became a swarm of fireflies. She'd heard of Firefly Hill back then, but no one had ever taken her there. It was a place for lovers, a place that made your wishes come true if you wished hard enough. She followed the fireflies. Even if none of her wishes ever came true.
There was no hill when the fireflies stopped. It was hair. Bright golden hair that reflected a light she could not see, a halo of hair on a small head. Regina stopped. She wanted to reach out and touch it, to feel the warmth that came from it but her hand would not move from her side, tired, tired of all the things she had reached out for just to be left holding on to thin air.
The fireflies stopped ahead of her and giggled. The fireflies giggled. And then turned around and flitted to her, a happy movement of wisps of gold, fast, faster around her. Her head spun with the blur of movement and Regina slid to the floor that only then she could see, dark like the body of a piano. The movement stopped then.
"Are you tired? Do you want to play tea party? Here, let's play." The voice was inside her head. It sounded like any other little girl of five, quick bursts of sound, alive, joyous, fast. How strange that she had not seen the tea set, a play thing, in thick china with garish butterflies stickered onto each piece. Regina did not like tea parties or tea in general. She'd had enough of decorating tea parties, the perfect child, always seen but never heard; of being showcased in them, always failing to be suitable, desirable no matter how much she tried. But she reached out for the cup anyway because that was a hardwire problem and she could not refuse. "I like playing tea parties. I think we're going to have a nice one today."
Regina had never played tea parties but she supposed she should pretend to drink and pretend to talk and pretend to be perfect. "I'm sure we will." And then she brought the tea cup to her lips and would forever be surprised that there was tea in it, warm and fragrant and that it soothed her stomach.
"Nice, huh?" Regina looked up from her tea. It was Emma as Emma would have been at five. Except for the eyes. The eyes were wide brown in that face and they did not look like Emma's at all but they looked perfectly at home there.
"Emma?"
The little firefly girl smiled. "I'm so happy you came."
Regina looked around her. There was only her in the room. "No one is ever happy I came." Her throat tightened.
"I am. I'm really happy." The eyes of a deep dark brown twinkled like stars in the ink darkness of the place they were in. "Did you come to meet me?"
"I… no? I don't know? I don't know where I am."
"Well, that does not mean that you're lost, at least."
"It doesn't?"
"No. You're here. You just might not know where here is, that's all. Drink. Isn't it delicious?"
It truly was. She studied the child again. "You look just like Emma."
"You really think so?"
The little girl smiled wide and beautiful. A lot like Emma if ever she had been unencumbered by all that she had struggled through. Because of her. Regina lowered her eyes to the cup and took one more sip. "You know, rolling about in the dirt is not a good way to get clean." The little girl asked.
"What else is there to do? My blood on the asphalt should appease them."
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Atone for what you can and rebuild from there."
"Emma deserves better than that."
"Emma chose you."
She sounded a lot like Emma too, but her adult version. "How old are you?" It didn't really matter, it was a dream, she was sure of it but what child spoke with such clarity?
The little girl just shrugged. Whether it didn't matter or she did not know was unclear. "Emma chose you. She will stand by you. And you know how rare that is. So why are you listening to other voices?"
"The fairy is right."
"No she's not. Henry is."
"What about?"
"About the best chance thing. Don't you think it's high time you got some gumption back and fought for a chance at being happy?"
"I've done that all my life. I'm tired of it. Besides. I've always known the end of the story. It was never about me."
The little girl stood then, looking wounded. Exactly like Emma. Then she twirled around once, twice, signing It's raining, it's boring, the man on the moon is snoring. It's raining, it's boring...
"Hey, wait..."
"Nuh huh." And she continued her pirouetting and her sing-song It's raining, it's boring, the man on the moon is snoring. Regina simply tried to keep up. She had to. The deep brown eyes twinkled like stars and all she could do was follow.
"You're very pretty." The little girl continued dancing.
"Thank you, I guess."
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
"Sometimes it was."
The little girl stilled her dance. Regina missed it immediately, but the tiny hand cupped Regina's face. Regina thought for a moment she was back in the cell with Emma touching her. "Some people like to pick all the flowers just because they are pretty, no matter if they wither and die in their vases. It always happens to pretty flowers."
The firefly was a child. How could she reply to a child about something like that? She didn't. She leaned into the touch of the diminutive hand.
"What do I do?"
"What you've always done. You fight." Then she shrugged her shoulders. "Only this time, you fight for love instead of revenge. And you'll have Emma with you. And Henry. See the difference?"
Regina touched her short hair and studied her clothes faded out from the black she used to favor. "Yes."
"Well, then..."
"Will I see you again, Little Emma?"
"I'm not Emma. I'm Hope. Pleasure to meet you." And she stretched her hand out to Regina. It was a dream and she was going to wake up. She was never going to get to touch that hand because that was what her life was all about, all the good things just out of reach. But she reached out her hand anyway and, to her immense surprise her hand touched the tiny little hand.
"Hope." It was solid in hers, solid in a way a dream had rarely been for her, no matter how many times she had dreamt of Daniel and of her father. "Hope." The little girl nodded vigorously, wild wisps of gold streaking the darkness. "It's my pleasure." And the smile beamed. Like a sun, dazzling.
~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~SQ~
Regina walked into the courtroom in a happy daze, strawberry cheesecake and sunny smile and Emma's sure hand in hers, a bumpy school bus journey and what could only be described as shameless make out. Life felt, at that moment, ridiculously good.
She should have known it would not last. The Prosecutor had arranged a natural size picture of Graham and placed in on a tripod in the middle of the courtroom. Graham's eyes seemed to follow her in her progress down the room, accusing her of his death, accusing her of taking Emma for herself. She halted her steps for a fraction of a second, enough only for Emma to notice the hesitation. Emma took her hand and kissed it gently. "I know."
"No, you don't. Not about this, you don't."
"About Graham's heart? Yeah, I do. But Regina, you have no idea what I'm capable of."
"Emma… I took his heart… back then. But I killed him here. Because…"
"Because he was remembering."
"No. Because he chose you. He chose you over me and…"
"You wanted to win?" Regina simply nodded and stole another glance at Graham, right there, in the middle of her life again. Heart or not, he had been the only one that had ever touched her with any modicum of kindness. It had been so easy to simply prolong the illusion. "Why?"
"Why?"
"Yeah. Why is it so important to you to win?" Regina's first instinct was to hide. In the impossibility of digging a hole on the ground and slip into it unnoticed, she let the mask of Evil Queen slip back over her. Shame it felt so uncomfortable she could barely speak.
"I don't like losing."
"Bullshit. This is me, Regina. The truth, please. So far I left all of this play out, but now I want the truth. From your mouth. I don't want to pick pieces of other people's truths and puzzle together yours. I want it from you. Graham deserves it. I deserve it."
Her legs deserted her then. Regina slumped into the chair. Indeed. "That's who I am, Emma. All my life I've been only worth as much was what others wanted from me or were willing to pay for me. Graham leaving me? I was worth nothing again. That's what losing felt like: like being nothing again." A furtive tear slipped past her control and Regina swiped at it viciously.
Emma kicked herself mentally if not in fact. "Don't cry, please."
"I'm not." And she sniffed as she pushed her chin up, all defiance and challenge.
"Okay, you're not. But one day, Regina, you're going to think differently. You're going to look in the mirror and see the same thing I see."
"What?"
"You. Only you. Not the Evil Queen, not the loser. Just you. I can't wait for you to meet that girl."
.
.
Quick Author note: I know, I know, "It's raining, it's boring, the man on the moon is snoring" is not the original version. This is my daughter's version and forgive me, but I could not help myself but use hers.