Chapter 6 – A Darker Motive

He was watching her.

She could feel it.

Constantly.

It was driving her crazy.

…er

Driving her crazier.

Regina sat on the couch, Henry nestled close beside her, and stared sightlessly at whatever movie he'd picked to keep her occupied.

She hadn't taken in one syllable of dialogue. She was far too aware of Graham prowling around in the background. He padded about the house in that predatory silent way of his, stalking shadows and checking the doors and windows.

It was an old habit, she knew. He had been captain of her guard back in the Enchanted Forest. He had also been her primary bodyguard. Responsible for both her safety and that of her borders.

It would seem old habits would die hard.

Then again, it could all be a show for Henry. There wasn't really a knife wielding maniac out there thirsting for Regina's blood.

Oh no, he was right there in her living room with her.

Still, Graham was doing a good impression of keeping watch over her and her son. He had spent the last half hour or so doing laps of the house, checking on them every so often and heckling Regina to take her pills like a good little invalid. Ordering her to stay on the couch and let him and Henry fetch her anything she needed. Escorting her even to the bathroom.

Fair enough, she had been contemplating digging to freedom with her toothbrush at that point, but he would hardly know that.

Barely an afternoon under his watch and he was already smothering her.

The Huntsman had been there. A constant shadow in the corner of her eye. Apparently acting her nursemaid but in reality her jailor and she already felt the walls closing in.

Regina buried her hand completely in Henry's hair so suddenly he squeaked in surprise but –upon looking up and seeing her staring sightlessly at the television- decided he could put up with it. She petted his head, the slightest frown marring her marble still face, and seemed completely lost to whatever thoughts plagued her.

"Mom? You okay?"

Regina blinked and shook herself, not unaware of Graham's shadow suddenly looming in the doorway at the sound of concern from Henry.

"Yes. I'm fine." Regina noticed where her hand was and she extricated herself from his hair, smoothing it down with a different kind of frown on her face. "You need a haircut, young man."

Henry smiled, glad to finally have something normal from her.

"Yeah."

"We can go after school tomorrow." She decided, jumping on the excuse to be out of the house.

Surrounded by witnesses and not left to the mercy of the Huntsman for any longer than necessary. She had come to the realisation that he had saved her for the simple reasoning of needing her alive so she could suffer. She had a fair idea of what he had planned for her –probably the same thing she had done to him for decades- and he would need her healthy for it if he planned on her surviving the first night…but those would just be the nights. During the day, at least, she planned to stay in public view as much as possible so that he wouldn't be alone to toy with her.

"You going to be well enough for me to leave you alone?" Henry tilted his head.

Regina wavered, her desire not to be left alone with the cold blooded killer looming about her house only outmatched by her need to be a decent mother. To be decent at something. Anything.

"I'll be fine."

"She'll be with me, Henry." Graham appeared so suddenly at the back of the couch that she flinched and then winced when her stitches pulled. "Sorry, pet." Graham's hand spanned the back of her head and stroked her hair once. Pulling away before she could turn and snap at him with her teeth.

She bristled at the name he now had for her but didn't rise to the bait.

Was that his endgame? To annoy her into revealing that she knew all about the curse in front of Henry?

Well he was going to have a long wait ahead of him. She had lived with Snow and Leopold for years before she'd had the right opportunity to kill her husband and then the freedom to move onto his daughter. She might be a psychopath but she was under her own control and she had the patience of a continent.

"Don't you get Wednesdays off?" Henry looked up at Graham.

"Yeah but Emma's got the night shifts right now so I can be here." Graham folded his arms on the back of the couch and bent at the waist so he could prop his chin on his crossed forearms.

"So how are you supposed to look after mom?" Henry's face hardened in a frown and Regina cut in before Graham could overtake every decision in her life in a single afternoon.

"I can sit in a drug induced stupor in the station as easily as I can here, Henry. I won't be alone." Regina smiled at him and ignored Graham's dark eyes burning into the side of her head. She would be alone with Graham in the station house but at least they would be in a public place.

"There's beds in the cells." Graham agreed easily enough. Smirking. "And locking you up behind bars is probably the only way I'll have to keep you from sneaking back to the office."

Henry giggled and Regina arched a brow at one and then the other.

"Really? Do you truly want to be stuck with me for ten hours with nothing to entertain me?"

"We can play cards." Graham's smirk didn't dissipate.

"I can do paperwork!" Regina was dangerously close to a huff. "It's not exactly strenuous. Nothing happens unless this one goes off on another one of his…operations!" Regina waved at Henry. Both Henry and Graham stared at her and Regina looked between them. Her gaze rested on Henry when his eyes were wide and he had paled. "What is it?"

"I'm not doing that stuff anymore!" The words burst from Henry raggedly. "I don't wanna break the curse. Not if it hurts you." Henry's eyes were wet but he sniffed hard and didn't let the tears fall.

Graham looked alarmed at the hairpin turn the conversation had taken and glanced wildly at Regina. She looked surprised but not at a loss as to what to do.

"Henry, I told you," Regina rested her good hand on the boy's shoulder, "this wasn't your fault. Nothing you did caused this."

"But I tried to break the curse and…and…you nearly died."

"Oh, come now," Regina took on a no nonsense tone when his tears began to fall, "I'm far tougher than that. One man? Please. It would take an army to steal me from you." Regina used the corner of one of the blankets that Henry had buried her under to wipe at his cheeks.

"You really got hurt, mom."

"Yes. I did," Regina glanced sideways at Graham, "but Graham saved me and now I have lots of lovely pills that let me see pink elephants rather than feel any pain." Regina tapped him on the nose with the now damp corner of blanket. Henry gave a watery smile.

His face grew serious again.

"You're really going to be okay?" He reached out and took her hand suddenly. "You promise?"

Regina's eyes betrayed her and she looked at Graham. Yes, she would probably be fine, had it not been for one Huntsman intent on extracting his revenge from her one bloodied piece at a time. Graham frowned at her, as if trying to figure out what she was thinking, and she tore her gaze from his to look at Henry.

"Of course. Nothing would make me leave you." She ignored previous attempts at suicide by Huntsman. That had been mistake, she knew that now. She'd take any pain for Henry. She glanced at Graham again.

Any pain.

Graham frowned at her, displeased by what he saw in her eyes apparently and straightened up from the back of the couch.

"Right, I think it's time for all good little boys and Mayors to be in bed. Henry, you get the television and the lights and I'll get your mother."

"'Kay." Henry sniffled one last time and threw himself from the couch, glad to have something to do.

"You'll what?" Regina spoke archly.

"You really want to try all those stairs, knackered as you are?" Graham rounded the couch and stood over her. "If you fall over even once, you're going straight back to the hospital."

Regina glared at him for a long moment and then heaved a resigned sigh. She wordlessly held up her arms and ignored his smirk of triumph.

This was to be a war between them. She would fight him on everything and he would try to conquer her every movement and they would forever keep score. They would tally victories and losses with neurotic care until long after they had forgotten what they were fighting about.

Graham took note of his points so far and stooped, sliding his arms around her waist and under her knees, lifting her carefully. She huffed out a pained breath but shook her head when he looked at her sharply.

"Just bent the wrong way." She straightened her spine and breathed a sigh of relief, even though it was an exhausting tension to hold herself that way.

Graham shifted his hold, making it a bit easier on her so that she pretty much just sat on one arm and he only steadied her with the other. They were a silent procession, heading up the stairs and Graham might have set her feet on the floor when they reached the landing at the top but he didn't release her until she was propped against the doorframe of Henry's room.

"You going to be alright here while I make up the guest bed?" Graham ducked his head a little so they were at eye level. He challenged her to lie to him.

"I should be fine so long as I don't do anything strenuous." Regina clipped at him and let out a slow sigh. "Like…breathe heavily."

Graham smirked and turned to head down the hallway and leave mother and son to bid each other goodnight, stalling when he nearly walked into Henry.

"You guys don't have to pretend anymore. You know that, right?" Henry looked between both adults. "I'm fine with Graham being here, mom. I'm not weirded out by you sleeping next to each other or nothing. I never meant to come between you."

Graham twisted to look at Regina and she blinked. Caught off guard by having to make this decision. She had assumed that Henry wouldn't question them taking separate beds but apparently he felt more guilt than she had realised. Regina met Graham's questioning gaze, her eyes wide with tension. He smirked. Shit.

"That's a relief." Graham reached out and tousled Henry's hair. "I much prefer cuddling your mum anyway."

Regina very nearly rolled her eyes, clinging to her disdain to beat back the panic.

"I'm going to get the stuff to change the dressings on you." Graham told Regina. "Don't overdo it."

He turned away from her and Regina stayed where she was, reclined against the doorframe. She resisted the strong urge to stick her tongue out at him, which was the fiercest invective she could summon right then.

She looked down only when she became aware of Henry hovering uncertainly at her side.

"Lean on me?"

Regina hesitated, not wanting to be dependent on anyone, let alone one of the people she was responsible for looking after. She realised, however, if she wanted to get all the way across the room to his bed then she was going to need help.

So she summoned a smile and draped her good arm over his shoulders and winced towards the bed. Henry walked with the care of someone responsible for a sculpture of spun sugar and he only seemed to relax once Regina was safely perched on the bed.

"Right, pyjamas and then teeth brushed." Regina tried to cover her discomfort –both physical and mental- with a brisk tone.

Henry hurried to do as he was bid, splashing enthusiastically in the bathroom and then hurrying back to bed. He hurled himself under the covers and bounced there a moment, smiling uncertainly at her.

Regina tilted her head.

"What's wrong?" She rested her hand on top of his knee under the quilt.

"It's just…you haven't done this in a long time. Tucked me in, I mean."

Regina opened her mouth to reply but he hurriedly spoke over her.

"It's my fault. I said I didn't want you to anymore and…that's not really true." Henry looked down at his fidgeting hands for a moment and Regina waited him out. "I just…I was so mad at you and now I'm mad at myself and…I dunno."

"You were mad at me about the curse?"

"Yeah."

"You still believe there is a curse?"

Henry bit his lip and looked away from her. She gave his knee a brief squeeze.

"Talk to me." Maybe it was the pain medication or the bone deep fatigue –possibly even the near death experience- but Regina's demand was more of a request. How out of character, she mused.

"I still…think it needs broken." Henry looked up at her, braced for her reaction and seemed dumbfounded when she just watched him. "I just don't want you to get hurt. I need to find another way."

Regina's mouth twisted and she looked down at the bedspread, tracing the superhero pattern on it with her finger.

She thought about it. Really thought about it.

She hadn't felt mortal in such a long time. Before the curse, she had been chock full of magic. So terrifyingly steeped in it that nothing short of Rumple with a serious vendetta would have been able to pose her any lasting threat. She'd been paranoid, of course, wary of poison and whatnot, but that had been more to do with looking weak than it had any serious threat to her health.

Then, after the curse, nothing changed in Storybrooke. She hadn't aged, none of them had. Injuries were so minor –a wicked bad papercut was as life threatening as it got- that Regina couldn't remember the last time she had seen her own blood.

Of course, she had made that up last week by seeing nearly all of it at once.

Still, it was a short, sharp, shock to be suddenly confronted with the reality that she might well die…and that was what the end of the curse could mean for her. If not the magical backlash of it being broken then the angry mob created afterwards.

On top of that, would Henry even come with them all back to the Enchanted Forest? There was nothing to say that he would. Nothing at all. He had been born in this world, he belonged here.

No. He belonged with her.

Regina sighed, then again, she should probably come around to the reality of the situation that the curse was breaking and that she was losing. She was losing and she couldn't think of a way out. She couldn't think of another back up plan, another evil scheme, another cunning get out clause, nothing. She had nothing to save herself.

Not anymore.

"Mom?"

"Do you still think I'm the Evil Queen?" Regina looked up at him suddenly and Henry sucked in a breath. Obviously that had been the one question he had hoped she wouldn't ask.

"I…no." Henry fidgeted for another moment. "Not anymore. I think you were, a long time ago, but not anymore. Now…you're my mom."

Regina managed something of a sad smile.

"Well, I suppose that's progress." She thought about how to pacify him for now. "Tell you what; you think about an alternative to breaking the curse and we'll talk more after you get your haircut tomorrow."

"Really?" Henry looked understandably sceptic.

"Really." Regina nodded. "I didn't want to send you away to speak to someone else about this, Henry, I just never thought that you would speak to me about it. If you're willing, so am I."

"So…it's real?" Henry watched her with wide eyes and Regina gathered herself. She really didn't have the strength for this.

"We'll talk tomorrow."

Henry opened his mouth to protest and then seemed to think better of it when he noticed how pale she was. He smiled instead.

"Okay." He scooted forward suddenly and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Then –incredibly gently- hugged her about the neck. "I love you, mom."

Regina's arm around his waist tightened at those words and she sucked in a surprised breath, her eyes suddenly burning.

"What's going on?"

Regina pulled sharply away from Henry and bit back the gasp of pain that it brought her.

"I was tucking Henry in." Her voice was dangerous but Graham didn't appear to care.

"I heard you gasp, I thought you were hurting." He didn't apologise either, prowling over to stand over her by the bed instead. He looked down at Henry. "Securely tucked in?"

"No danger of monsters getting me." Henry smiled. It had been a joke between them since the first night Graham had checked in on him before Henry had gone to bed at Emma and Mary Margaret's.

Graham took tucking in very seriously and had gone so far as to stuff the edges of the sheets under the mattress. Apparently this was to stop the monsters from under the bed reaching under the duvet and dragging Henry away by the ankle…and with that charming image the good Sheriff had turned off the light and left the boy alone in the dark. Loudly assuring himself that there was no such thing as monsters under the bed.

Graham apparently believed that abject terror was a healthy part of every childhood.

"Do I want to know?" Regina looked between them.

"No." Graham smirked at her and Regina was struck by the sudden urge to kick him in the shins. She muscled it down. Just. "You ready?"

Regina pressed her lips together realising she had no other excuses to cling to and nodded.

"Goodnight, mom." Henry wriggled down under his covers and smiled at her. Regina smiled as a matter of course. "Goodnight, Graham."

Her smile became a little brittle.

"You can walk?"

"Yes." Regina snapped at him.

He was silent a beat.

"Are you going to any time soon?"

"Shut up." Regina grumbled and gripped his arm, using him as a ladder to get to her feet. Graham stood patiently, his hand on her elbow helping her without either of them acknowledging it and Regina turned back to Henry, pressing a kiss to her fingers and then tapping her fingers against his nose.

He smiled at her and Regina –now really out of stalling tactics- let Graham lead her from the room.

The bone deep tension that she'd been stewing in all afternoon began to seethe and boil. She felt herself get more and more wound up in the five steps between Henry's bedroom and her own to the point where she thought one of her eyes was going to fall out.

Graham was either oblivious or purposefully ignoring it.

"Do you want to shower now or tomorrow?"

"Uh…" Regina was so tired that her brain took a long time to catch up with the simple question. "Tomorrow." All she wanted now was her bed.

"Alright." Graham propped her up against the end of the bed and his hands went to the buttons of her mystery dress. She stiffened and her chest began to painfully heave with every panicked breath. She tried to muscle it down, tried to get control of herself, but she shook all over and…

"Hey." Graham gripped her by the chin, lifting her face, and forced her to look him in the eye. "I will never force you."

"Hah!" The word left her almost as a sob of disbelief.

"I mean it. I've no desire to take that which is not given." Graham continued to unbutton her dress, watching as the parting material revealed smooth olive toned skin underneath.

She really was beautiful.

"Then why are you stripping me?"

"Because I need to dress your wound and I honestly don't think you can even lift your arms right now." Graham's voice was quiet, he was a little busy with being confronted with exactly how much damage he had wrought on her tiny frame.

The cast on her arm had been an uncomfortable reminder but to see the rest of it…

Her entire right shoulder was a rainbow mass of pain and bruising from where it had been dislocated. There was a lot of bruising over her heart as well, from where he had pushed half of his heart onto hers, not to mention the angry reds, purples, greens and yellows that spread over her sternum like a storm cloud.

His jaw clenched.

Regina worked her good arm free of the dress and he painstakingly helped her loose her injured arm, quietly amazed that she could even function in as much pain as she had to be in. The dress rumpled to her waist, catching on her curve of her hips.

Graham left it where it was and turned away for the medical supplies needed to change her dressing.

It wasn't until he turned back and looked at her that he truly realised how vulnerable she was.

Regina stood at the foot of her bed, her dress caught at her hips, held up by her slim bruised fingers poking out the end of her over bright cast. Her other hand was braced against the bedframe, white knuckled with the effort of keeping her upright. Her bruised lip caught between white teeth, her chest heaving with shivering breaths.

She was not embarrassed about her nudity. She had always known that she was beautiful. She had used it as her greatest weapon more than once. Not just on him, but on any other man who desired her…and there had been a great many of those. A hint of leg, a flash of cleavage, a toss of that long raven hair she'd had so many years ago…she'd been good at it. Invincible.

Now she was terrified.

Trying to hide it, of course. So damn proud, even now, but he could feel it radiating from her heart in waves. That connection between them not having dimmed in the slightest. He could feel her heart racing. Her wide eyes watching him. Waiting for the blow to fall. She'd never had someone who had power over her that didn't use it to cause her as much pain as possible.

He would not be another.

She sucked in a harsh breath when he lowered himself to his knees in front of her. Her hand lifted, as if to ward him off, and she rocked back against the bedframe without its support. He ignored her, knowing she was about as strong as a kitten right then, and set to carefully peeling away the white pad over the wound in her chest. He was as gentle as he could be. He knew it would only stress her further waiting for the pain that wouldn't come but he found himself quite unable to hurt her.

He finally peeled away the bandage and found himself at eye level with her wound. It looked disproportionately small for something that had caused her so much pain. Just a little over three fingers wide, stitched neatly with black thread. It was perfectly verticle nestled in the apex of her ribs leading up into her sternum.

The angle had been wrong –he remembered- to slide the knife higher and between her ribs. He'd had to settle for jamming the blade in and twisting it up behind her sternum in order to reach her heart.

The bruising was so dark and angry that it appeared as if the wound still seeped blood.

He was drawn from his thoughts when her hand gently –so gently- came to a rest on top of his head. Her fingers tangled in his curling hair. He glanced up, seeing her head tilt back a little. She was still trying to control her breathing and failing miserably. He continued to ignore her and let her stew in the agony of whether or not he was about to gouge his fingers into her wound just because he could.

But he was not one of her past tormentors. He would wage a war on her that would be all the more devastating because it was so alien.

He vowed then never to hurt her again. That she would have no defence against.

He wouldn't hurt her, but there was a myriad of other tortures available to him. After all, he did know her inside and out.

She sucked in a breath when the cool of the alcohol was dabbed against the wound in order to beat back the chance of infection but it was a hurt that he had to deal to her, not one that he wished on her. Her fingers tightened in his hair, as they had done many times in the past for so different a reason.

He blew on the damp skin, causing goosebumps to flare over her flesh, and then applied a fresh pad. He taped it into place and settled his hands on her hips, waiting for her to release his hair so he could rise.

The silence stretched between them and he stayed where he was. His thumbs rubbed small circles on her bare skin. She still looked up at the ceiling.

"Why?" Her voice was low and it cracked halfway through that single agonised word.

"Why what?"

Her hand finally slid from his hair, brushing down over his cheek, the strong chords of his neck, to rest on his shoulder. He pushed to his feet, holding her steady when she tried to rock away from him and nearly fell because of it.

"Why aren't you hurting me?"

Graham huffed out a breath that was almost a laugh and his mouth twisted in an almost smile.

"Well, pet," he enjoyed the way she bristled at the name, "it's most likely because I'm not you."

He was disconcerted to feel the flinch of guilt tear through her. That torrent of feeling that savaged her. So many emotions and so powerful that it just felt like a storm. One triggering another and another until all she could do was brace herself against it and hope there would still be something of her left when it passed.

Graham's jaw clenched and he turned away, scooping up her pill bottle and rattling two out into his palm. He found a glass of water and held them out to her.

"Take your medicine."

Regina shook her head.

"Regina…"

"I don't want them." She was back to clinging the bedframe to stay upright.

"They'll help you sleep." He tried to bribe her.

"I don't like them. I'm not in control when I'm drugged."

"You're not in control at all." He pushed the pills closer to her. "I am. Take your damn medicine."

"I will fight you."

"Good." He was hardly impressed. She was pale and trembling. "It'll let me know you're still you."

"Is this guilt?" Regina blinked rapidly against the dizziness that assailed her. "For…something?"

"For nearly killing you?" Graham took her hand in his and dropped the pills into her palm, daring her to toss them away. He shook his head. "Not guilt. Something you're more intimate with." His smiled was more a baring of teeth. "This is revenge, pet."

"Revenge?" Regina frowned at him and finally gave in, taking the pills and drinking down the water to wash the chalky taste from her mouth. "Nursing me back to health is your revenge? I don't think you've been paying attention."

"Killing you would be too messy. Not when I don't know if it would actually end the curse." Graham gripped her dress suddenly and shoved it over her hips, letting it crumple to the floor. He caught the glass from her hand before she could drop it and held her up with a hand at her waist. Her eyes were wide and frightened again. "No, pet, I'm going to do something worse."

"And…what is that?" She gulped hard, still desperately trying not to be afraid but he could feel it coiling around his and her heart both.

"Simple." He leaned in close, so close his nose brushed hers and her breath caught. With a practiced hand, he unclasped her bra and peeled it away from her chest.

"I-is it?" She clenched her jaw when she realised she had stammered. That his control already extended to her vocal chords.

"Oh yes, simplest thing in the world." Graham walked her backwards, rounding the bed. He tore back the covers and pushed her down, looming over her.

Her chest was heaving, her hands fisting in the sheets. Her jaw was clenched so tightly he feared for her teeth but he let her stew in it for just a few moments more.

"I already told you that I wouldn't force you." Graham ducked his head to her throat and her hand buried in his hair again. No doubt fearing he intended to tear out her jugular with his teeth. Admittedly not the first time he had done similar but it had never been directed at her.

He had much preferred the prospect of throttling her.

He let his teeth graze her, measuring the rabbit quick pace of her pulse thundering just under her skin.

"That's the only way you'll ever have me again." She shivered under him though he barely touched her. His hands resting in the cinch of her waist his teeth grazing her skin over and over and over.

He chuckled and it thrummed through her.

"Is it, pet? I think not." His teeth skimmed her again and she had no control over her spine arching towards him despite or perhaps because of how it stung. "I know you, creature of appetites, female of hunger, ravenous woman. You'll beg." He chuckled again and it managed to draw a whimper from her.

"Never." Her voice was a harsh and hitching whisper.

His hand suddenly ghosted down over her thigh and spanned it, lifting it, parting her legs. He used the grip to push her higher up the bed though he stayed where he was. His stubble rasping into her cleavage, his breath gusting hot over her nipple.

"You'll beg and gasp and mewl for me and I'll take you and –when I do- then I'll own you." He drew away suddenly, leaving her cold, her eyes flying open. He drew the sheets over her, a knowing smirk pulling his mouth. "Own you as completely as you own me."

"Never."

He just laughed at her again and leaned in close suddenly, biting a tender nip on her chin.

"I know better, pet, I remember everything now."

Then he rose, crossing the room and dousing the light.

A fitting metaphor, she thought, for she had never been more in the dark.