Finding Home 8
**Previously on Finding Home: Regina and Roland finally talk about what happened the day Robin died. She tells him everything that has happened since. Her pain and anger at not being able to bring them both back. And when she tell's him of her heart, after he's seen it, he asks her to try one more time. Perhaps if they use both, hers and his, maybe it will work this time**
She is absolutely not doing it. There is no chance in hell it's going to happen. The outcome be damned, it's a downright no without question. Her resolve hasn't softened a touch in the past two days either. Not even with the wandering gazes and curious head tilts sent her way on the subject. They ask, she simply says no. She's putting her foot down. Regardless of the fact they are grown men, they are still her children and her word gets to be the last whether they like it or not. There is nothing further to discuss.
At least not when they are around.
It's in the quiet spaces of night when there are no ears to listen to the thundering, panicked hope in her heart at the mere thought that she is thinking about it, considering it. What if it worked? What if this was the missing piece she had needed? She could have him back, could see his face again, hear his voice, feel his touch.
Her fingertips wander over her own features, ones that have changed over the years. A few more wrinkles crested into the corners of her eyes, irritatingly unfortunate as they are to her. A grey hair here and there, she fervently tries to pluck out, though they simply grow back defiantly. She knows she doesn't look exactly the same, aging with the days that pass, and should this work, he would come back to her just as he was; eighteen years younger than she is now. The thought crossing her mind that perhaps she is too old for him. That he may not look at her the way he once did when her skin was smooth and untouched by passing years.
Scowling into the mirror in front of her, Regina sighs heavily, running her hands through the long length of her hair. It's something she's let grow freely, for he always said how much he appreciated it curling about her shoulders. She can still feel it, him. The way his fingers would scratch at the base of her neck late at night, the curling of a lock playfully, a tell tale sign he was about to kiss her in that way. The one that would steal the very breath out of her lungs. Even the tingle of his lips ghosts across her own. Mint and pine lingering on her tongue as she swallows down the memory of his taste.
But that's what it is. A memory.
And while her own well being isn't normally at the forefront of her mind, using Roland's heart that way is out of the question. Case and point, the state of her own damaged organ. Brokenly and openly weeping from desperate attempts to try everything and anything to bring them back. It's vulgar to look at the way it, barely beats behind the crevasses and scars. A reminder of the failures and unanswered prayers. She can't do that to his own when the outcome is so uncertain. But maybe...
"I can hear you thinking."
Regina shakes her head out of the wandering fog and turns to find Maleficent standing at the frame of their door, eyeing her up with a soft scan. She is probably the only person privy to the true thoughts in Regina's mind. Even when said thoughts are supposed to be locked tightly away, the Dragon manages to slink behind the tall concrete walls and curl around Regina's heart protectively.
It's with a sad smile that Regina turns, sniffs once with eyes all watery and sad, tucking a fallen piece of hair behind her ear. Tears will do nothing. They show the pain that can't be healed and that's all. A sign of weakness.
She kneels in front of Regina, watching the avoidance of hickory eyes that furiously blink back the swarming wetness coating her lashes. Eighteen years is a long time to live with heartbreak. It's etched into every flicker that paints Regina's soul. A broken soul. Settling down the bouncing nervous knee with a gentle palm, she links her hands into Regina's on her thighs, quietly thumbing over the sparkling emerald that sits on a left ring finger. If only she knew how to take this anguish away.
But bringing back the dead is beyond even the powers of a Dragon, at least when all the ingredients needed aren't available.
A heavy swallow brings blue eyes back up to a tear stained face, whiskey gaze locked onto the ring Mal smoothes over once more before cupping Regina's cheek softly. "It's okay to want to try. You know that, right?"
Regina sniffs, shaking her head dejectedly, letting the curtain of her hair fall over her shoulders, a shadow casting across her face. "I can't do it."
"Tell me why?"
"Because, Mal."
"That is not a reason. Just a silly word."
"Mal…" she sighs, wiping away the remnants of tears, but new ones form quickly in their stead, rushing to pour out regardless if they are wanted.
Mal's arms curl around her, hugging tight with a nuzzle into brown chocolate waves, her fiery warmth immediately skimming along Regina's skin. "Why should you deny yourself this chance?" Her fingers comb through long, brown silky waves, "You deserve it, Regina."
"I deserve nothing." She pulls back sullenly from the embrace, her own arms wrapping around her stomach, a sad final protective barrier that doesn't do much in the way of protecting. A blonde eyebrow arches, quizzical eyes pour into her, tweezing out the truth that lay hidden behind the mask.
"You're afraid?"
"Of course I am. It's Roland's heart I'd be cutting into. He could die."
"No. That's not what I meant."
It's tucked beneath the shadows of superficial doubts. The honest revelation that frightens Regina.
"You know it would work. But that isn't what scares you, is it?"
"I…" Her breath catches at the knowing look in Maleficent's eyes. Sometimes she wishes the Dragon wasn't so damn perceptive. She bites down on her lip, scowling at the slight tilt in Mal's smile as she waits for the answer to an incredibly unnerving question. Exhaling wearily, her gaze flicks back to the mirror, over the features that have so changed.
She isn't the same person he loved, time has altered that, and she isn't sure she could be that person again. That Regina had lightness in her, a ridiculous feeling that everything may work out, happy endings and all. But now? If, and it's a big damn if, this worked and she got him back, would she always be waiting for another goodbye? Would he not see her the way he used to? Has her heart been too broken from losing him more than once to be truly hopeful again? Fear surely would claim her entirely at the thought of waking up everyday and her thief being stolen out of her life once more. He wouldn't leave her. But he could be taken like he had before. She'd never survive that. Losing him. Not again.
"Do you want to know what I think?" Mal lingers at her legs still as Regina anxiously shrugs silently. "I think it's going to work. And I think you will get what you've always dreamed of having."
"I have you." Regina mumbles out between her trembling lips.
For all the goodness that is in Mal, that the world rarely gets to see, she smiles brightly, and lands a soft kiss to Regina's cheek. "And you always shall. But the love you and I have is different than the one you were meant to be with."
"Doesn't make me love you any less."
"I appreciate that. But I know your heart, Regina. It's big enough to hold more than one of us in there."
"You'd stay?" She stammers, heart astounded.
"Forever if you wanted me too," Mal answers truthfully.
Regina just nods instead of answering, words don't really seem to do justice to this feeling that blooms in the recesses of her core, at the picture that builds in her mind, where all three of them could be here, together, as a family.
"And I think you will die an old, cranky, wrinkling, cane wielding woman with him right beside you."
"Both of you."
Mal rolls her eyes with a small chuckle, "Both of us," she agrees.
It takes a second, curiously to Mal as she watches Regina fiddle with her hands, and chew on her lower lip, before a second small confession leaks out.
"I'm old."
"I beg your pardon?"
Regina's eyes widen dramatically as her hand waves in front of her face as though it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"You're concerned he will not find you attractive?"
It sounds ridiculous being put into verbal form, makes Regina cringe in embarrassment on the spot for even thinking it. "I'm not even going to dignify that absurd comment with an answer." Mal snorts incredulously as she stands, leading Regina to their bed.
She hates the thick duvet that Regina insists on covering it with. A hot, stifling thing the Dragon swears to the high heavens is trying to suffocate her in heat. The sheet is more than enough for someone who internally radiates out a fire. Regina, on the other hand, demands it to be wrapped around her body, Maleficent's as well, at least for a little while until sleep takes her. (But she craves the bordering on sweating warmth). Why Maleficent has no idea, but she allows her arms to be tugged around Regina's back anyway, and the god awful goose down blanket tossed over top of her.
Focusing on the beautiful feeling of cold snow, she runs her fingers up and down Regina's spine, pulsing a touch of sleepy magic into her tired love, one who begins to hum quietly into Mal's chest. If Regina falls asleep soon, Mal can toss off this infernal device quicker. She waits, until the hot puffing of breath hits her skin, sends a single curious eye down, heart happy to see that dreamland has claimed Regina.
"Do you think it will really work?"
Apparently she isn't asleep…
"Yes."
"Will you help me?"
"Always."
Regina nods, cuddles in tighter, a small dainty thing that makes Mal's heart swell a fraction larger for the woman. If the townspeople that once lived under the rule of an Evil Queen only knew their ruler likes snuggling. Perhaps it would have tamed the ruthless whispers about her. Chuckling to herself at the thought, she lets her mind drift back to a snow bank as the heat from Regina's body and the comforter swelter from the outside.
"Mal?"
"Yes, love?"
"I will not be a wrinkly, cane wielding woman."
"You left out cranky."
Regina just sighs and tucks herself in tighter, a muffled, "Too late for that one," puffing out before she finally gives into exhaustion and drifts away. It leaves Mal with nothing but silence as she stares out the window, thinking about what may come, what she may gain, and more nervously, who she may lose in the process. Love is a tricky thing after all. And sometimes, the best thing one can do, is to let the other go.
If it comes down to it, well, Dragon's always were solitary creatures.
.
..
…
..
.
Roland has been staying more and more often, bringing coffee in the mornings, talking at end with Regina now that the wounds are slowly being healed. It's nice. Better than. They are learning each other all over again, sharing stories of lives lived apart. Regina had been rather surprised to hear how Roland became a thief in his own right, following in his father's footsteps, giving to the poor when he could afford to do it. He's a good man. Robin would be beyond proud of his son. In her own time, she too has shared just how hard it's been without them here. Has fought through a few tears thinking about all the time they had missed together and how much she regrets it. He just smiles, takes her hand in his, touching freely accepted by both parties, and tells her that he is just happy to be back where he belongs.
It's not far from his mind though. The chance of getting his father back as well. Even if there is still hesitation in Regina's eyes when he brings it up, he can't just give up on the possibility, will wait until she is ready. But that had been weeks ago, and he is getting anxious at the idea. Surely just once they could try and if it doesn't work, well at least he can find peace that they attempted it anyway.
So it's with renewed determination he brings breakfast across the kitchen threshold, finding Henry already there waiting for him. They'd talked about it yesterday, and days upon days before that. Together, they've decided that it's worth the effort. Even if Henry had explained just what could happen, the fear he held for his mother going through that magic again, the scars it's left behind, he wants to try as well. Robin was a father to him in every sense as he was to Roland.
They just need to get their mother on board. And what better way than hot coffee, syrup drenched french toast, fresh strawberries and two pairs of puppy dog eyes she has a hard time resisting? After a quick kiss to Regina's smiling cheek, he sits down and passes out breakfast, his heart thumping at the conversation they are about to have. He just prays Regina sees their reasoning.
"This is a nice surprise." She slides in beside her boys, eyeing up the soggy french toast and pile of berries on her plate. It makes her jaw water. Indulging in sugar filled mornings usually isn't her thing, she much prefers an egg whites omelet with veggies, but every now and then what's the harm? "You boys have plans today?"
Roland shifts nervously in his seat, drowning himself in the hot coffee… too hot, as it burns his tongue he coughs and sputters against the singe. Henry bumps him under the table, giving him a look that doesn't miss Regina's curious gaze, nor does the quick flush that creeps into Roland's cheeks. They are up to something. It's clear as day on their poor poker faces.
"Actually, Mom," Henry juts in as Roland tries to calm his breathing, "We were thinking we could go to your vault."
Her eyebrow arches. There is nothing down there they'd need. "What for?" She sips her own coffee, and takes a thick bite of gloriously sweet toast.
"Well… uhh…" Henry swallows, flicking a glance to Roland who avoids all eye contact, chewing on his own breakfast bite far too long before he swallows it down hard. Clearly whatever they want isn't a simple picnic in the park. "We were hoping we could try today." Henry finally finishes.
"Try what?"
"To bring my dad back," Roland mumbles out, darting his eyes up to Regina's as they widen. It goes quiet in the kitchen after that. The boys waiting for her reaction, one that she isn't entirely sure of. Suddenly the piece of toast in her mouth seems far too big, cloyingly sweet as she tries to push it down her throat that bubbles in nausea. That's what they want. Why she has been brought a lavish breakfast without warning. She feels sick. Her food stuck like a lump in her stomach as she licks her lips and sets her coffee aside. Why didn't she see this coming?
"Mom?" Henry slides over to reach for her hand. She smiles, well, tries to at least, the curve of her lip barely moving, as she scans over Henry's face, seeing the little boy from all those years ago who lost a father that day. He has grown up so fast. But his eyes are still the same. Full of hope. A hope she doesn't know she can grab onto. Roland is on her other side before she realizes it, gripping her other free hand into his own, a heavy breath passing through his nose as he watches the way her eyes fill with terrified tears. "If it doesn't work, I swear I will never ask again."
"I don't know."
"Why, Mom? Why can't we just try?"
She sighs, chewing on her bottom lip, eyes catching Mal as she walks quietly into the kitchen with a curious gaze at the sight. She knows in an instant what is going on. Sends Regina a soft smile and a gentle nod.
"It may not work."
"But it might." Roland nods, trying gently to get her to agree.
Shaking her head, a single tear falls, "I am afraid that you'll both be angry if it doesn't."
"Angry with you?" Henry squeezes her hand, as she shrugs noncommittally, flicking her eyes up to his nervously. "Mom, never." He leans in to kiss her cheek, his chin resting on her shoulder afterward just like he used to when he was younger. It makes Regina's heart flutter, he's still her little prince, with a bit more facial hair and thicker arms, but still, forever and always he is her baby.
"Mom," Roland turns his shoulders to her, bringing her cupped hand to his lips, a feather light kiss pressed to her knuckles as he smiles. "Just once. I promise. Just let me try."
Her heart thunders, clenches and squeezing the air out of her lungs at the look in his eyes, in both her babies eyes, staring straight into her soul without abandon. They have so much hope, so much faith in her. Mal sits down beside Henry, leaning until her hands can cover Regina's as well, and without words she says everything with one look. If it doesn't work nothing will change. And if it does… well then perhaps the chair that sits alone across from Regina could once again be taken up residence by the one person she has longed to see sitting there for years.
All she has to do is have a little bit of hope.
"Okay."
.
..
…
..
.
To say she is nervous would be an understatement. They'd finished breakfast rather quickly after her agreement to trying, the excitement bubbled in the faces of Henry and Roland as they walked towards the vault. She doesn't know if she feels excited. Doesn't really know what she feels at all. Dread and fear taking up most of the space in her gut as the concrete mausoleum comes into view. Her heart shakes with every step closer, sensing what is about to happen once more. What if she isn't strong enough to come back this time? Well, maybe she'd get to see him in the afterlife then.
Mal is there too, holding her hand as Henry pushes the door open, and Regina freezes on the spot. Suddenly unable to make her feet move any further as Roland and Henry walk down the stone steps.
"What's wrong?"
She trembles with a shake of her head, "I can't do this, Mal."
"Tell me why." Mal stands in front of her, blocking the doorway that stands only a few feet ahead, drawing Regina's attention away from what is possibly going to happen and to the strength and faith in her eyes. "Are you afraid it won't work?"
"Yes," Regina whispers out. "Incredibly so."
"If it doesn't, then it doesn't. But at least you tried."
"What if it's not good enough for them? What if they want to try again? I don't think my heart will make it through it again."
Mal sighs, running her hands through Regina's hair and cupping her cheeks. "Do you trust me?"
"Of course I do." Regina implies quickly, because she does, with everything in her heart she does trust her Dragon.
"Then listen to me when I say, they will not be angry with you if it doesn't."
Regina sighs, but Mal is ever persistent.
"I promise you that. Your boys love you. That's not going to change."
"Promise?"
The Dragon smiles, kisses her Queen's lips softly, "Would I lie to you?" She nuzzles into Regina's nose, and laces their hands together again, stepping aside so the vault door comes back into view. Regina swallows, takes a long counting breath as she steals the spike of anxiety in her heart, looking one last time at Mal who simply waits with an easy smile.
"I love you. You know that right?"
"I do. Come on, let's go get your thief back."
Regina chuckles, steps forward with a small shred of determination laces into her soul once more.
"Even if I hate the smell of forest." Mal bumps her shoulder to Regina's teasingly.
"You'll learn to enjoy it."
The Dragon hums, rolls her eyes and leads Regina into the vault with one last quip, "If you say so."
It's warmer down here than usual, perhaps it's simply from the hope that radiates from the pair of boys, well men, standing in wait in the bottom room, ready as ever to get their father back. It's been awhile since she's been down here. There hasn't been much of a reason since, well, the last time she tried to bring Roland and Robin home. That had been a few years ago, and she barely made it out with her life. Perhaps she won't be as lucky this time around.
"So what exactly do we do?" Roland questions out quietly, hands shoved into his pockets as his eyes scan the room curiously. Mal is the first to move, moving Regina gently towards the sofa, breathing out a hot suddenly anxious breath, though she dares not let Regina see the nerves that are creeping up her scales. Rarely does a Dragon get scared, but knowing what is about to happen, well it has fear gripping Mal's heart as Regina leans into the cushions, blowing out a breath.
"Do it quickly." She whispers out, and Mal doesn't hesitate as her hand presses into Regina's chest, as gently as she possibly can, and curls her hand around the warm, precious beating organ and tugging back out, grimacing at the wince that peaks out of Regina's lips.
"Sorry." She muffles out, cradling the treasure in her hand, the other smoothing out over Regina's cheek who merely shakes her head, piece of cake right.
"So you have to take out my heart?" Roland sits down beside Regina, Adam's apple bobbing at the sight of Regina's heart in Mal's hand. He shouldn't be this nervous. He trusts them. But having your heart ripped from it's safe cavity doesn't exactly seem pleasant.
Think of dad. Think about seeing him again.
"It hurts. I won't lie." Regina reaches for his hand, eyes wandering over his face, "We don't have to do this. You can say no."
He shakes his head, stealing his nerves as he leans into her palm on his chest, his own curling over her fingers. "I trust you."
"Okay, just try and breath."
Her hand trembles as her fingertips seep into his chest, beyond the barrier of muscle and bone, the heat that radiates off his heart is overwhelming for a moment, steady and strong as her hand hugs around it. A sharp tingle sparks up her forearm, a bubbling beat bursting out of her own organ in Mal's hand. With one last look at her battered heart she tugs, quick as she can, anguished at the hiss Roland lets out.
It's a bit darker than she anticipated in all honesty. She figured his heart would have been like Henry's, golden, pure. And it is… and it isn't. The red glow is everywhere, light pouring out from every vein, except the small black swirl in the bottom corner, tiny as it may be, it stuns Regina silent.
"I can explain that."
She shakes her head, smiling at the fear suddenly in his brown eyes. It's not important. He did what he had to do to survive. "Your heart is beautiful, Roland."
"So is yours."
She smiles, squeezing his hand once, because it's not true, but it's sweet he is trying to ease her anguish. Just like his father.
"Now what?"
Regina shrinks. Taking out a heart is easy, carving out a piece is the hard part. The painful part. Best if she goes first. So he knows what to expect. Extending her hand, Mal drops it into her palm, a heavy weight that continues to weep it's sticky tar to this day. Huffing out at the sight of it, she stands, waves a cauldron into the room, and sets her heart down onto the white cloth beside the potions that sparkle and bubble on the table.
She's always enjoyed potions. Concocting things no one else can. Pushing the boundaries of what is possible, what the perfect recipe for each individual spell is. Henry teases it's the inner nerd in her, something she scoffs at through a smirk. Grabbing the first pale blue liquid, she stares into the empty black pot, closes her eyes and pictures him. Forest smell, the blonde stubble of his cheeks, bright, sky blue eyes, the callouses of his hands, every single detail she can bring forward, right down to the sound of his voice, whispering softly in her ears that he loves her.
It's only mixing after that. Pale blue goes first, followed by a onyx sparkling liquid, a puff of midnight cloud blooms out.
"Wow." Roland stands beside her, heart placed down beside her own, both beating steadily side by side. "That's incredible." His eyes dance as the cloud begins to dissipate around them. It's rather adorable, this look on his face Regina turns to find. Makes her think about the little boy she met in the Enchanted Forest all those years ago, and the first time she had shown him her magic. He'd had the exact same expression, awe.
"What is all this stuff?"
Regina stills, scrunches up her nose as she grabs a third bottle, sparkling in greens and golds, a particular vial that holds something beyond precious to her, the last few particles of Tinkerbell's pixie dust.
If it doesn't work this time, there is not going to be another attempt. Might as well use it all. She tips the bottle over, heart fluttering at the white bubbles that form and pop into sunset gold sparkles before sinking back down into the liquid.
"Pour that one in, but just half of it. And careful, it tends to spark." She hands him a red milky vial.
"You want me to help?"
She shrugs, smiles and grabs her heart, exhaling hard as a small knife forms in her hand. She presses the tip of the blade into one of the last remaining intact pieces, wincing as it pierces the meaty flesh.
"Ah!" The cauldron bubbles and fires, Roland leaping a half step back at the sparks that fly out. "You weren't kidding." He chuckles embarrassed, and his eyes immediately train on the knife pressed into Regina's heart. Blood trickles along the silver blade, droplets dripping down onto the white cloth. He can see the pain etched into her face, as she cuts a single, perfect triangle out of the beating organ, her breath tight as the piece comes away and falls into her awaiting palm.
She looks unsteady, pale and shaky when the knife clatters back down onto the table. "You okay?" He runs a hand up her back, grabbing her hand that holds the broken off piece. It pulses, hard and hot as he turns Regina's hand over, letting it fall against his own skin. A white burn spikes up his arm, oddly not as painful as he would expect, but rather a comforting gentle seeping of her magic. Regina nods, sniffs and blows out a breath, leaning into his arm wrapped around her waist as her eyes blink away the tears. That is not a pleasant sensation to say the very least. Swallowing, she turns to Roland's heart, bile rising in her throat at the thought of cutting into the beautiful beating organ.
"I should do it."
"No. It's okay."
"Regina. It should be me." He takes the knife from the table, and his heart in his other hand, holding apprehensive gaze the entire time, "I am willingly giving up a piece of my heart to bring him back, just as you have. Trust me."
"Don't cut it too deep, just a small section." Mal stands beside them, finding the words Regina can't bring to let out. Roland nods, and Regina's ears begin to buzz at the sight of the knife piercing his heart, the immediate trail of blood that seeps from the wound. They should stop. She shouldn't be letting this happen. He should not be doing this. How could she let it get this far?
God dammit.
Roland whimpers as the blade drags across his heart, and it hurts. Like a bloody arrow going through him. But his mind focuses on his dad, on why they are going through his pain right now, the outcome will wash this all away. He has to believe in that. It will work. It has to work. Regardless of the burning agony the laceration spreads out into his body, he will not stop, not until Mal's voice tells him to do so. Against the wetness that involuntary bleeds into his eyes, he cuts a near straight line across the flesh, doing his best to match the triangle piece of Regina's heart.
Sweat beads along his temple, his knees begin to weaken as the pain grows, the organ pulsing erratically at the injury. Just one last line, just needs to connect them all together, and it will be done, the dizziness that invades his brain will fade. At least he damn well hopes so.
"Stop."
He keeps cutting, hands shaky when the blade goes a bit too far, cuts too deep, a blinding white light beaming out of it as he stumbles back, Henry's arms wrapping around him before he can hit the floor. He's going to be sick. He can feel it. The bubble of nausea that stews in his gut.
"Breath, Roland. In through your nose."
He does, inhales with the gentle touch of Regina's hand on his forehead.
"Good. Let it out slowly."
He listens again. Repeats it over and over until the sway of the world begins to even out. Blinking against the fuzziness, it's all Regina that he sees, eyes wide and frantically searching his face. So much for not scaring her, he grumbles internally, sitting up straight on the floor he apparently collapsed onto against Henry's embrace.
"Are you alright?"
He nods, but his brain rattles about his skull. Okay so no sudden movements. How about words? Words could work, at least better than movement.
"I'm good." He draws in another much needed breath, but Regina's eyes are filling with tears, lower lip trembling, and he doesn't want that at all. Smiling he grips her hand, "I'm good, I promise. That was just…"
"Excruciatingly painful?" Mal supplies from the cauldron. He nods, chuckles a bit at the minimal explanation it truly gave that feeling, but best not dwell on that anymore. The piece of heart in his hand beats strong, side by side against the bit of Regina's he still clutches gently. Standing slowly, he laces his free hand with Regina's, drawing them both back up to the cauldron that bubbles and smokes away. It's oddly endearing, the color that swirls about it. A dark green, just like the forest. He wonders if magic has a way of sensing what it's trying to accomplish. Latches onto the tiny threads and swallows them whole.
"Okay. You ready?"
He can hear the unsteadiness in her voice, the way her eyes water anxiously at the potion below, the nervousness seeps through every pore she has. And it's not like he isn't also concerned, his heart beating loudly on the white cloth is enough proof of his nerves.
"Think of your dad. Everything about him. The good. The bad. All of it. You have to want it all back."
He nods, understanding exactly what she is trying to get across. It has to be all of it. Closing his eyes, he lets his mind paint the picture of his memories with his dad. The times they laughed playing in the stream back in the Enchanted Forest, the bedtime stories and adventures with the Merry Men he never wanted to end, every snuggle and stubbly kiss that seemed to be in endless supply. He wants them all back.
But it's also the memories of being angry, the abandonment and loneliness. Every time he got into trouble and was scolded sternly. The times when he thought his father was the worst for laying out rules Roland didn't want to abide by. The day his father left forever, all of the anger he's held so close to his heart for all these years, If he wants his dad, he wants all of his dad and that anger needs to wash away. He wants to be reprimanded when he does something wrong. Wants to be praised and loved when it turns out right.
More importantly, he wants the family he used to have. With Regina and Henry, and even Maleficent. He wants Sunday morning breakfasts in pyjamas, wants to see his father stealing a kiss from Regina's lips, wants to see her smile, the smile only his father could bring out, he simply wants his family.
Keeping all of it in the forefront of his mind, his eyes slowly crack open, and he frowns at the tears that stream down on Regina's cheeks. Surely she should be happy in this moment, not silently crying what looks to be horrendously sad tears. He wonders why though. What could have such a grip on her heart she can't even crack a smile?
He wonders, but doesn't ask.
It's the late nights they spent curled up in bed together, simply staring at one another with goofy grins and flushed cheeks. The night he'd pushed her heart back into her chest, the feeling that spread from the tips of her toes to the very last strands of her hair. Love. She felt loved. And love is hard. With all the softly traded kisses and gentle caresses, there is also the fear and fighting. More so back in their early days in the Enchanted Forest, when sharp barbs and nasty remarks had been thrown back and forth. A mask in all reality. One to hide the way her heart had nearly lept out of her chest at the mere mention of his name. That's when fear came in. Fear of being vulnerable and exposed to this man. The one she'd been destined to meet, fated to be with, and had run away from.
She thinks of all the times he'd looked at her that way. Even when tears had clouded her eyes when he'd chosen another over her in respect of his code, she could still see it. He loved her. Even if he was leaving her, he loved her. All the desperation and loneliness of being without one another, time and time again, she needs to want that back too. Has to believe that it was all for the best, their timing wasn't exactly right, but it would work out. It had to. She wants to miss him again, when he isn't around. Wants to feel the jump in her heart when the front door clicks open and his boots sound his arrival.
She wants that back. The chance to hear his quick tongue playfully jibe back at her heated temper. Even if it got under her skin, she wants it. Wants to feel those butterflies in her stomach that swoop and spiral out of control when he argues until they are both red in the face and out of breath. It felt real having that. Being irritated at each other. Love isn't easy after all.
She thinks of the times he'd looked at her with such sadness in his eyes. The betrayal of giving his daughter back to the one woman who had ruined everything and the anger he held for Regina in that moment. She wants to feel his anger, his contempt when she makes a hasty decision, wants to hear the soft sighing in his voice when she screams back that she doesn't need him.
But she does. She needs to feel the faint taste of mint on her lips when he kisses her, needs the rough callouses of his hands to trail up and down her arms again. Needs to see him with their boys, playing in the park, curling up with a video game, reading a book into the late hours of the night even when they are all supposed to be asleep.
It has to be everything. She needs to want to have the anxiety and lingering dread of losing him again. And she does, sort of. Would rather he stay beside her until the very end, hold her hands when they get old and spotted with age, kiss her wrinkling cheeks and tuck his nose in the greying of her hair. Life with him. She wants that. The good and the bad.
With his face in her mind and the feeling of his arms wrapped around her, she opens her eyes, and Roland is there, watching her cautiously. She smiles at his concern, something his dad always did. Putting her before themselves even in the most frightful of situations.
"Ready?"
He nods, squeezes her hand and thinks of his dad.
"On the count of three, drop your heart in." She squeezes back.
"What's going to happen?"
"Honestly, this time I am not sure, but just don't let go of my hand okay? No matter what."
He nods and stares back down at the bubbling green glowing liquid. Praying that it's a good sign the hue reminds him of his father as he lifts his palm holding the piece of his heart he willingly gives.
"One,"
I'm bringing you back dad.
"Two,"
Please come back to me, Robin.
"Three."
Their fists uncurl and the two glowing red triangles drop into the cauldron and everything goes silent. Not a breath moving from any lungs as the dark pine green swirls and sparks, turning bright white. She sees it before it happens, the lightning bolt that thrashes out from the bottom and ignites the vault with a blast of magic, throwing all four people surrounding it into the walls.
Her head rings, ears buzzing as she locks eyes on Roland laying unconscious beside her. The magic from the caldron pours out, seeping into her skin, a white hot fire burning into the very core of her soul. She screams, or at least she thinks she does, and everything goes dark.
TBC.