TRIGGER WARNING: There are some references to graphic violence in this chapter. If you have trouble with that, please skip.

Sorry again for the wait. I know this chapter isn't my BEST, but please be warned that there are lots of feels in this chapter! Thank you again for the comments and likes! You're all the best! 3

The day after the attack

Henry's alarm beeped loudly, and he stretched, groaning from sleep. He reached over to the device and slapped his hand on the snooze button. That was what he did every morning. And in five minutes, the alarm would go off again. He would smack that snooze button a second time, burrowing deeper into his cocoon of blankets, willing it to be the weekend instead. His alarm would go off for a third time, and for the third time he would grunt, slap the snooze and roll over. Regina would then knock on the door, calling through it to tell him if he ignores his alarm one more time she will bring in a bucket of cold water. Henry made the mistake of ignoring that threat once and only once.

He was feeling particularly tired and grumpy one morning when he was eight. Regina made her threat, but he simply did not want to get out of bed. His clock started beeping, and his hand promptly fell onto the snooze with a heavy slap. He snuggled back into his pillow, considering faking sick just so he could stay home.

Regina was more than aware of what Henry did, and she padded into the kitchen, pulling out a pitcher from one of the cupboards. She filled it with ice-cold water, sipping at her coffee while she waited. Once it was full, she scooped it up, tiptoeing to her son's room. After years of playing Tooth Fairy, she got pretty good at sneaking into his room without being heard.

She looked down at her sleeping boy, feeling a little guilty about what she was going to do, but Henry had to know that she didn't make empty threats. If he realized that, if she let the punishments she brandished slide, he would know that she wasn't serious. With that knowledge, he could manipulate her. Regina was his parent, and that meant acting like it.

She held the pitcher up over his head, and some of the water dribbled onto his face. Henry's eyes snapped open comically. He looked up with horror, and sprung up from the sheets.

"Mom! No! I'm up! Please don't splash me," he whined, putting on his best puppy face.

"I warned you," she said with a playful smile. She threw about half of the water at him, and it splashed all down his face and pjs.

"MOM! IT'S SO COLD! GIMME THAT!" He snatched the vessel from her grip, holding it out in front of him like a bomb, scampering from the room with a victorious giggle. "Gotta come and catch me!" he taunted in a sing-song voice.

"I'm coming to get you!" She tore off after her little boy, robe whipping around the corner she rounded. Regina heard him thumping down the steps on his bare feet, and when she looked over the banister, she saw him skittering off toward the kitchen. He still held the pitcher directly out in front of his body, his arms locked straight. She chuckled, half-expecting to see the boy clunk headfirst into a wall or something.

She snuck down to the kitchen, and she could hear him giggling from somewhere in the room. "Henry, I know you're here! I'm going to get you!" she called to him.

"I hope so! I've got a surprise for you, Mommy!" came the giggling response.

Regina continued to creep around the area, spying the pitcher abandoned on the floor. "What's my surprise? Going to splash me? Or is the tickle monster back in town?"

"Better! But you gotta find me first!"

"It would be easier if you came out and showed me, Henry!"

"Where's the fun in that?"

The brunette snuck around the island counter in the kitchen, and when she peeked her face around, she saw Henry for a split second before she threw her hands up in front of her. He smiled a big grin, showing a couple of missing teeth, before emptying the contents of the juice carafe at her face.

Regina was sticky and soaked with orange juice, and Henry was positively rolling on the floor with howling laughter. "Oh, you're going to get it now! The tickle monster is definitely back, and I'm it!" She dove down after him, attacking his sides, underarms and feet.

Her son was panting in her arms, both of their bellies and cheeks hurting with laughter. She placed a little kiss on the crown of his damp head. "I love you, Henry. But, if you ever throw juice at me again, you'll be grounded for a month. Understand?"

"But it was funny, Mom! Okay, I won't," he said after the stern look he got. "Can I do it on my birthday?"

"I don't think so, dear."

"How about on your birthday?" he tried again.

"Certainly not."

"On... Halloween?"

Regina's eyebrows drew together in a look that could only be described as trying to determine the level of her son's sanity. "No juice throwing on any holiday. Now, go wash up and get changed or you'll be late for school. I have to go shower now, because I am covered in juice. Make sure you eat breakfast once you're changed!"

Henry almost fell into his usual morning routine after hitting the snooze button, but the events of the previous day came crashing into the forefront of his mind. He shot up from his bed, ripping back the covers and scrambling to his dresser. He paused for a second to listen closely to the sounds of the house.

He couldn't hear much, but the scent of coffee mingling with the smell of frying eggs certainly pervaded his senses. So his mom was definitely awake and cooking. Those were completely normal. Maybe he dreamed all of yesterday? No, that wasn't possible. Perhaps Regina was just playing up whatever it was that happened to try and protect him? And if so, maybe she was mostly better today?

Henry shook his head. The only way to find out would be to go and see for himself. Like any young boy, he rammed his body into his clothes that he barely paid any notice to when choosing them in about thirty seconds. He completely skipped the bathroom and bounded down the stairs in a blur, skidding into the kitchen on socked feet.

He wish he had prepared himself in case the state of his mother was as bad as she made it out to be. If he had, he would have told himself not to stare, to show concern but still try to act normal. However, even if he had tried to prepare himself for whatever it was his mom was afraid of revealing, it probably wouldn't have done much good anyway. No matter how bad Henry thought it might have been, the sight that reached his eyes was infinitely worse.

Regina stood at the stove, scrambling eggs. Her hair was limp, slightly frizzy and it was held back from her left temple with some bobby pins. Henry could just make out through the matted hairs at the exposed temple a gnarled, dark scab with a purple bruise haloing it. If he looked a little closer, he would have seen the crusty flakes of dried blood surrounding the wound. His mother was also sporting a graphite-gray turtleneck, with the neck pulled completely up to the base of her jaw, and an accompanying scarf wrapped around that.

His wide eyes tracked across her face. The first thing he noticed was just how heavily she had caked on her makeup. But underneath it... The skin above her left cheekbone was badly swollen, and it looked as though someone had inserted a large marble there. Even with all the concealer in the world, Henry could still see the dark shades of a mottled, blotchy bruise there. Similarly, her lip was inflamed, loudly pronouncing the split that was poorly disguised by the crimson lipstick smeared on top of it.

Henry was remarkably astute for a boy his age - something he clearly learned from his many years with Regina - and it did not escape his notice just how stiffly his mother moved. She didn't really turn at the middle in any way, opting to rotate from her hips and legs rather than from her torso as she normally would. She refrained from moving her head too much, and if she did, Henry definitely saw the winces that could only be associated with pain. That last element of the formidable woman's dilapidated condition was what disturbed the boy the most.

The only time when he could clearly remember Regina being in any discernable pain was when Mr Gold had set the fire at City Hall, and her ankle got hurt in the explosion. Any other pain she had experienced, she simply swallowed and acted as though nothing hurt her ever. The fact that he could see her in more than a little physical discomfort downright unsettled him.

"Good morning, Henry," she said softly, but he heard the hoarseness in her voice. He continued to gape, unmoving, and the woman certainly didn't fail to notice all of the color leave his face. She was glad that her unnaturally thick layer of makeup made it impossible for him to discern the blush spreading across her cheeks from being under his blatant scrutiny.

"Mom...?" he said weakly.

"Breakfast won't be ready for a few minutes. Go brush your hair, okay?" she husked, not meeting his shocked gaze. She stirred the eggs around the pan, her right eye twitching slightly in another failed attempt to mask her pain.

"What... What happened?" he asked, ignoring her request for him to go clean up. "Who-"

"Henry...please," Regina said while squeezing her eyes shut, her brow knitting together. He was suddenly struck by the notion that she was probably fighting back tears. His mother was most likely choking back the urge to stay hidden, and conceal herself from his prying eyes. He realized that she put on all of that makeup to try and make her appearance less disturbing for him, just so she could make sure he got ready properly for school. Just so she could be his mother.

He snapped his mouth shut, nodding wordlessly, turning to go to the bathroom where he would brush his teeth and hair. The moment he left the kitchen, Regina let out a long, shaky breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. She had not been expecting Henry to deviate from his normal morning routine, and his sudden appearance jarred her.

She was going to use the time he usually took delaying getting out of bed and sleepily putting himself together to rally her courage. Waking up was hard enough; every part of her body seemed to be in varying states of moderate to severe pain. But telling herself that she was going to allow the person who mattered to her most see her in this weakened state was almost impossible.

Earlier that morning, the brunette attempted to leave her bedroom, her hand trembling against the doorknob, when she felt her resolve fail her. She stumbled backwards, turning and collapsing into a ball of pain on her unmade bed. A squashy lump under her shoulder got her attention, and she extricated the worn, stuffed lion Henry left for her the night before.

Stuffles stared placidly up at her, and she felt a gentle wave of calmness wash over her. A feeble laugh escaped her throat at the fact that her, Regina Mills, Evil Queen, Mayor of Storybrooke, was taking comfort in a child's toy. She absentmindedly smoothed out his mane, gazing at the little lion that seemed to ease her tense heart. Henry said that Stuffles would protect her, and the little lion had granted her a small amount of peace during the night. Stuffles was brave for her; now it was time to be brave for Henry. She kissed the toy on his face and got up to be the lioness for her cub.

Henry walked his usual route to Granny's as he always did before school, but hot chocolate was not on his mind that morning. He kept his clammy hands rammed deep into the pockets of his coat to keep them from trembling, but not from the cold. The image of his mother's mangled face burned behind his eyes every time he blinked, and it made his stomach writhe uncomfortably.

He was half-running, wanting to get to the diner with as many minutes to spare as possible, not caring about the way the cold morning air bit his face and ears. The boy hardly even noticed any of the other townsfolk he passed, not bothering to respond to Archie's chipper greeting as he was taking Pongo for his morning stroll.

Henry barreled through the diner's door, causing the little bell overhead to chime a little more aggressively than usual. He made a beeline for the brunette waitress, who was sliding his preferred beverage onto the counter already, smiling at his arrival. However, that smile quickly faltered when she actually took in his appearance.

Underneath the bright red flush that painted his cheeks from the cold and brisk pace, his skin was pale. The boy's eyes weren't sparkling with mischief and mirth as they normally did. Quite frankly, he looked haunted, and she had a pretty good guess as to why he looked more than a little out of sorts.

"Hey, Henry!" she greeted warmly, as though noticing nothing unusual or different. She stretched her mouth wide in her patented charming grin.

"Morning," came his unsure response, and he bit his bottom lip, looking for all the world like he was trying to figure out how to phrase a particularly delicate question.

"Got your hot chocolate right here. I only just finished it when you walked in. I wasn't expecting you for another five minutes. You're earlier than normal, kiddo." Ruby hoped that a little natural small talk would help ease the tension and doubt radiating off of him while he palmed the hot mug, not drinking it. "So what's the occasion that's got you out of bed early? And don't say you aren't; I know that five minutes makes all the difference at your age." She crossed her arms on the worn counter, leaning over to bring herself closer to his level.

He glanced up to her, his brow furrowed deeply, still worrying his bottom lip. His gaze fell back to his drink, as though willing to see the answers of the universe in the melting whipped cream. "Ruby...?" He said her name so softly that she wasn't sure she actually heard anything at all over the quiet clatter of the diner.

"Yeah?" The brunette leaned closer, anxious not to miss a word.

"What... What happened?" He locked eyes with her, and she swallowed uncomfortably.

"You're going to have to be more specific. Lots of things happen around here," she lied, knowing that Storybrooke was about as exciting as a slug race.

"Yesterday," he said bluntly.

"Yesterday? Well, Granny's burn isn't as bad as she thought it was, and now it's just a blister. She'll be just fine," Ruby stated, still trying to avoid the topic she knew he was needling at.

"C'mon, Ruby. You know that's not what I'm talking about!"

"Henry..."

"Please?" He fixed her with the most imploring look he could muster, and the waitress shifted uncomfortably.

"Listen, Henry. I'm not sure I'm the one you should be asking about this, and I'm really sure I'm not the one to tell you."

"Yeah, but Mom won't tell me. She doesn't think I should know. Not yet, anyway..." he grumbled.

"Have you ever thought that maybe your mom's right about that? It's not...pleasant. And I know you're older than your years, but this is a complicated situation, and I don't even know all the details."

"That's only half-true. You hear everything, Ruby! I know Mom has her reasons, but you didn't see her this morning..." That line caught the woman's attention. "It was..." Henry swallowed, his face turning a delicate shade of green. "After seeing the way Mom was this morning, how can I go on without knowing? Besides, I trust you to tell me the truth of what you heard. We were in this together for Operation Brush. Don't leave me hanging now."

Ruby's head fell forward, her curtains of long, chestnut hair fell forward, hiding her face. She blew out a long sigh, slumping a little in defeat. "Okay, Kiddo. You win, but don't say I didn't warn you. Ready?"

"I can handle it," he said defiantly, wanting to prove himself. It brought a small, sad smile to her lips.

"Your mom was attacked."

"I figured that much out, Ruby."

"By Emma," she finished.

"What?" he said, pulling his head back in confusion.

"I'm not kidding. Apparently she barged into Regina's office late yesterday morning. She was screaming and yelling. The mayor's secretary told me that Emma came up, completely unannounced, looking like she had swallowed the Devil's fury. She practically kicked in the doors, and came at Regina. That's when Amber had to call David. Apparently Emma was screaming something about you.

"I heard that she roughed Regina up pretty badly before she tried to..." Ruby faltered, not sure how to say what happened next.

"...What happened, Ruby?" Henry's voice was shaking, but there was a hard look in his eyes.

"Sure you want to hear the rest?"

"I...I have to know."

"David came in with some of the volunteer emergency squad. He told me that he saw..."

"Go on," he urged quietly.

"David said that Emma had your mom up against the wall, and she was... Emma was choking her. He said she was trying to kill Regina with her bare hands, and didn't even let go when he came in. Pretty sure he was scared shitless and didn't know what to do."

"Emma tried...to kill Mom?" The words fell out of the boy's mouth with more disbelief than your technologically-challenged grandmother trying Facebook for the first time. "Are you... Are you sure?"

"Positive. And then she took off, and no one's seen her since. Mary Margaret's an emotional wreck. She saw Emma leave the house with her gun. She was the first to call David."

"Really? Why is she so upset?"

"Really, Henry? She saw Emma leaving in a murderous rampage...oops," she said, cringing at her choice of words.

"But, that can't be all. Ms Blanchard is stronger than she looks." Ruby shifted a little. "You're not telling me something," he stated, eyes narrowing. "You promised!"

"I did... Mary Margaret was with Emma when she got her memory back."

The blood drained from Henry's face, and he understood everything that that statement implied. "Oh no..." Something started to smolder under Henry's eyes, his expression hardening further.

"Yeah, and Emma flipped on her too. Called her some nasty things and then slapped her. So she's pretty shaken from that. And David was in here at the ass-crack, sorry, of dawn. He's got a buttload of paperwork to do. And there's an arrest-" But she didn't finish her sentence. Henry had taken off at full-tilt, leaving only the tinkling of the bell and the scuff of his sneakers in his wake.

Regina was sitting on one of the lounges in her study, a tumbler of cider already in her hand, despite the fact that it was only 8:15 am. Her eyes were closed, and the glass shook when she brought it up to her lips. She made the mistake of not channeling the liquor carefully in her mouth, and hissed in pain when the gash on the inside of her cheek raced white-hot.

The smooth burn of the alcohol reminded the mayor that she was in the present, and it distracted her mind from convincing her that the tendrils of soreness in her neck weren't Emma's fingers actually grasping her throat, trying to wring the life from her body. Her free hand involuntarily shot up to the collar of her turtleneck, unconsciously checking that the soft fabric was the only thing wrapped around her neck.

Once Henry had left for school, she found herself painfully lacking in distractions. She knew there was no way she'd be going to work in her state, and her concentration was too flighty for books or puzzles. She was already exhausted, and every bone in her body ached, along with everything else. As far as she was concerned, Regina Mills was already done for the day. She didn't even have enough energy to be irritated about that.

So when the front door clicked shut behind her son, she raced to it, locking it. The last thing she needed was Emma bursting through the door to finish what she started the previous day. Once the front door was locked, Regina systematically moved throughout the mansion, locking every door and window in the house, ensuring that the only way her attacker could enter was by force.

She found herself standing in the foyer, hands empty, body groaning, and her mind was busy supplying her with fresh images of Emma Swan's blazing eyes, and the sensation of her own fingers scratching fruitlessly at the blonde for freedom. Her empty stomach churned, and tears threatened to smear her carefully-applied mask. She absentmindedly tugged the edges of her turtleneck farther up. She remembered a flash of the leather-clad sheriff whirling around, slamming an apple against her temple, and Regina recalled the way little white lights popped up across her vision, and the feeling of hot liquid spilling down the side of her face.

The brunette failed to choke back a sob, and when her mouth pulled back let out a watery, rattling gasp, the cut on her lip split open, and she felt a heavy drop of blood slide out of it. The angry sting of cleaving flesh didn't even register in her brain, and her hand sloppily smeared the dribble away.

She felt her feet moving underneath her, and she had no idea where she was being led, but she could remember the way her feet kicked and thrashed when Emma had slammed her body against the wall. She remembered the way her heels flew off in the struggle, and her bare toes knocking against the blonde's shins did little damage.

She was vaguely aware of the gentle clinking of glass, and a powerful, sweet odor slammed into her senses, shortly followed by the molten tartness of her own cider flooding her mouth. Her bloodshot eyes suddenly focused on the change in scenery. The mayor wasn't in the foyer anymore. She was standing in her study, clutching a tumbler with a white-knuckled grip.

She was not at City Hall. She was not at her office. Emma Swan was not screaming at her. Emma Swan was not charging at her. Emma Swan was not beating Regina Mills senseless, nor was she strangling her to death. Her hand shot up to her neck. No fingers trying to collapse her trachea. She took another large swallow, savoring the welcomed burn, ignoring the sting in her lip, or the way it left a smear of blood on the edge of the glass.

She moved to the lounge closest to her, sinking into it, groaning loudly at the ache spreading from her torso when she bent to sit. She didn't really want to know why her brain assumed that alcohol was what she needed to escape the waking nightmare she trapped herself in, nor did she want to know why the alcohol was actually helping, instead, accepting it without a fight. She had no energy to do so.

Henry slammed through the front door of the mansion at 8:21am, after haphazardly ramming his key into the lock and turning it with such haste that it could have broken. He could hardly breathe from having run as fast as his legs could carry him from Granny's to Mifflin Street, but he didn't stop to catch his breath when he got inside. He dropped his backpack, flung his coat off, yelling for his mother.

He heard the muffled calls from in Regina's study, a room he didn't frequent very often. However, that morning was not a time for hesitancies and old habits. He pounded his way to the study, finding the door ajar and a very confused Regina Mills standing next to the coffee table.

He lunged forward, slamming his body into her torso, pulling her into a rib-cracking hug. "I'm here, Mom," he half-shouted into her middle.

"OW! Henry, let go! That hurts!" He pulled away and saw her wrap her arms around her middle, taking labored breaths.

"Did she hurt your stomach too?" He wanted to touch her, but he wasn't sure if he should at that moment.

"Henry," she said between lessening gasps. "Why are you here? Why aren't you in school?" He immediately picked up on the deflection.

"School's not important right now. Did she hurt your stomach?" he echoed.

"How...?" She left the question hanging, gazing at her son with a pained expression.

"I know you wanted to protect me, Mom. And I know why, but I couldn't see you like...y'know, and not know how it happened. Ruby told me. Is it true? Did Emma attack you?"

Regina's hand flew up to her throat again at the mention of the blonde, and she swallowed painfully, sinking down onto the lounge, patting the space next to it. "Sit down, Henry."

"Hang on a sec." He bolted from the room and returned several moments later with a damp cloth. He stood right in front of her, his face crumpled with sorrow and...something else. "You've got some..." He reached his free hand out and placed his fingers delicately under her chin, tilting her head up slightly.

Regina wasn't sure how to react. Henry had never tried to take care of her before, at least not in any earnest way. It meant that she was tempted to gently pull his hand away, and clean herself up. It was what she always had to do. No one was ever in her corner to take care of her before, and the act was somewhat unsettling. But what if Henry never did anything like this again? No, she was going to fight the urges squiggling around in her stomach and let her son give her cure.

Henry kept his eyes focused firmly on the lower half of his mother's face, so he wasn't aware of the way she watched his face intently, memorizing the moment for herself. He dabbed gently at the bottom of her chin, working his way up to her swollen lip. His ministrations were soft, as though he was afraid he would break her. Surprisingly, a smile broke out across his face when he finished.

"There," he murmured with his boyish grin. "Now you're beautiful again."

A crooked smile lit up part of Regina's face, but it vanished shortly after Henry's disintegrated into that strange sad expression again. He settled himself next to his mother, peering unblinkingly up at her. "I suppose you're waiting for the answer to your question," she croaked out.

"I have to know, Mom." He placed a warm hand on top of her trembling fingers that were laced tightly together in her lap.

Regina let out a weary sigh, but held her son's gaze, determined to show him the trust and respect he not only wanted, but needed. "Emma...did."

"Because she remembered..."

"That would be my guess, yes." She was surprised by his calmness, and it somehow made it easier for her to discuss this with him.

"And she doesn't know..."

"Know what, dear?"

"That...that you didn't mean it. Or, you regretted it. She doesn't know that your kiss woke her up..."

"I'm starting to regret it now," Regina muttered with a flare of her old self.

"Why would she hurt you? No, she didn't just hurt you! She tried to kill you! And you're not just anyone; you're my mom!" he said hotly, and Regina finally recognized the look accompanying his sorrow. It was one she had seen lurking in her own eyes many times before, and seeing it in her son's frightened her. She saw raw anger.

"I don't care what you did to her! She doesn't get to do that! She doesn't get to hurt you! She doesn't get to lay another finger on you! She doesn't even get to look at you! I don't know where she is, but I don't want to see her!" His little fists were balled up, and he had a glare so intense that it would have made the Evil Queen proud.

Yet, that last line jarred Regina. There was a time not so long ago when he wouldn't have cared a bit what happened to her. He wouldn't lift a finger to help Regina if she got hurt, or assaulted. There was a time when he never would have said a word against his saintly birthmother, let alone basically condemn their relationship. How the tables have turned.

"Henry-"

"Don't, Mom. I know what I'm saying! Don't try and defend her. 'Cause I'm not gonna. She doesn't deserve it."

Regina gave a dry laugh. "I was in no way going to defend that woman. You're absolutely right in that she doesn't deserve an ounce of kindness right now."

"Mom?" He stared hard into her eyes.

"Yes?"

"I'm not going to let anyone hurt you like that again. If Emma comes back, she's going to have to get through me first."

Regina leaned over, nuzzling her chin against the top of his head, holding him close. She felt small arms wrap around her again, but much more gently that time. "Thank you," she murmured into his hair.

"I love you, Mom," he whispered quietly into her chest.

"I love you too... My little prince."

As always, you can find me on Tumblr at writers-dilemma. tumblr. com and you can find my gorgeous Beta, Jasmine, at obligatory-regal-name. tumblr. com