Regina smiles in satisfaction and breathes out a sigh of relief as she laces red shoelaces into the red rain boots she and Henry picked up that morning at the local thrift store. Initially, when Henry told her that he wanted to go as Captain America for Halloween, she assumed the costume would be easy to find—a worst-case scenario was that they'd have to order it. But when he'd looked up at her with those sweet hazel eyes and sheepishly asked if they could make it, she just couldn't say no—it didn't matter that she'd only sewn buttons onto sweaters and replaced the occasional hem in a worn skirt—and she'd quickly decided that they'd just figure it out as they went. So, she and Henry spent the past couple of weeks scouring Storybrooke, collecting the items necessary for the costume. Slowly but surely, she had somehow managed to turn an old blue pair of sweats and some worn out football ball pads into something that looked surprisingly impressive—and not just by an eight-year old's standards, but by her own.
The belt had been the easiest part—an old seat belt that needed little alteration—and Henry enjoyed playing with it as Regina worked on the cap—the piece of the costume that proved to be the hardest. He'd been a good sport about sitting beside her with a measuring tape wrapped around his head. Finally, she got it right and as she worked on it, Henry worked on transforming the lid to one of her stainless steel pots into a proper shield, smiling proudly as cut out a vinyl star and pressed it into the center.
"So, what do you think," she asks, taking a step back and looking him up and down. "Do you think it'll work?"
Henry grins and holds out his arms, looking at the red gloves. "I think it's perfect," he murmurs, as his grin widens. "I can't wait to show Roland. He's going to think this is so cool." Regina laughs a little as Henry's eyes meet hers. "It's better than I even though it'd be."
"Good. I'm glad," she tells him, leaning in and pressing a kiss over his gloved hand. "Now, let's get you changed and ready for bed." He takes her hand as he hops off the counter. "Go wash up and I'll be in to tuck you in."
He nods and skips ahead, her arm out-stretching to hold onto his for just a moment later. She smiles and sighs as Henry's fingers slide from hers and she follows as he runs toward the stairs—and then comes to a sudden stop. She tips her head curiously as he turns to her, "If we finish The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe tonight, can we start Prince Caspian right away?"
"Uhhh…maaaaaybe," she murmurs, scrunching her face as he looks at her expectantly. "I don't think we're going to have time. But tomorrow night, for sure."
Henry sighs, "If you read fast?"
Regina narrows her eyes and suppresses the urge to smile, putting on her best 'mom face.' "I think someone is just avoiding trying to go to bed."
"I'm not. I promise. I just…really want to start the new book."
"Well, the longer you stand there, the less likely it is that that will happen." She laughs as his eyes widen and she leans in and drops a kiss atop his head. "Make sure you're careful taking off your costume. You have to wear it to school tomorrow and I know that I am not a good enough sewer to patch anything up before I have at least two cups of coffee."
Henry giggles, then nods and runs up the stairs.
Regina watches him go, lingering at the bottom of the stairs long after she hears his bedroom door close. A smile pulls onto her lips—he seems so happy, and that warms her heart. It's been just more than two and a half months since she found Henry on that fateful night, and it never ceases to amaze her how easily—and even naturally—he fit into her life and how much fuller her life now feels.
She smiles again as she hears the door open and then hears him pad into the bathroom, and a moment later, the shower turns on. Pushing herself away from the stairs, she yawns and slowly makes her way into the kitchen, cleaning up the scraps of fabric and vinyl. She smiles softly as she picks up the sheet of vinyl that Henry pain-stakingly traced the star onto. She runs her fingers over the cut outline, her smile deepening as she thinks of what the following day will bring—a Halloween festival at school and then the parade and trick-or-treating with Robin and Roland—all things she'd planned over and over again, tweaking and perfecting, year after year; but she'd never participated, she'd only ever watched from afar.
She tosses the scraps, but saves the star, then heads upstairs to change into out of her clothes. She brushes her hair and takes off her makeup, and by the time she's through, she hears the shower turn off. She grins as she watches Henry pad down the hall with wet hair and the sweatpants and t-shirt she bought him at the hotel in New York. Pulling her robe on over her own pajamas, she follows him back to his room, watching from the doorway as he climbs into bed and nestles back against the pillows with a tired, but content smile.
His costume is hanging over the back of his desk chair, the gloves, mask and shield sit on the desk and the boots on the seat of the chair. She grins as she looks back to him and finds him looking at her with expectant, but hooded eyes. She pushes herself into the room as he tries to hide his yawn.
"Maybe tonight," she begins as she sits down on the edge of his bed. "We should skip the story."
"Please? We don't have to start the new book, but I want to see how this one ends."
"You're not too tired?" Henry shakes his head, again hiding another yawn as Regina reaches for the book on his night stand, and begins reading through the last chapter. She doesn't even reach the second page before Henry's asleep and she's return it to the nightstand. Carefully, she gets up and pulls the blanket up a little higher as she leans in, pressing a soft to his forehead. "I love you, Henry," she whispers as she pulls back, stroking her thumb against his chin. "I'm so glad I found you."
Henry was up and dressed before Regina even came in to wake him, and he could barely eat his cereal and was ready to leave a full fifteen minutes ahead of schedule—so they'd done just that.
When they'd arrived at Storybrooke Elementary, Regina helped Henry carry in his things—a backpack didn't really fit over his costume and the plate of M&M sugar cookies they'd made after dinner would have never made to the classroom if it'd be left to him. A grin tugged onto her lips and her heart fluttered softly as she watched a group of third graders run toward Henry and a little girl with wearing a black and yellow tutu and batwings grabbed onto his hand and pulled him toward a table to pick a treat bag.
She'd stood there, just watching for a moment—enjoying watching him interact with his friends, smiling and laughing with them, checking out their costumes while they checked out his, and looking so light-hearted and carefree—and so, so different than the boy she'd taken for some onion rings just a couple of months before.
And she'd stood there just a moment too long…
"Madam Mayor!" Regina's smile fades slightly and her shoulders immediately tense as Mary-Margaret Blanchard waves to her, smiling too brightly as she stepped gingerly in her directions, glittery fairy wings bouncing behind her. She takes a breath and turns, putting on her best I-don't-really-hate-you smile. "Madam Mayor, will you be staying for the fun?"
"Oh, no," Regina says quickly. "I was just dropping off Henry and some cookies."
"Really? The kids would love it if you stayed," Mary Margaret says with wide eyes. "Other parents are staying—most volunteered to chaperone one of the games or do a story or…" She pauses when Regina shakes her head. "Or just to keep an eye out, make sure no one gets hurt or eats too much candy."
"I really shouldn't," Regina says. "The parade's tonight and there's…."
"Will you stay, Mom?" Regina blinks as Henry steps up beside Mary Margaret and she sighs, and feels herself nodding. "Please?"
"Okay. I suppose I could stay just for a bit…"
Henry grins and Mary Margaret reaches for her hand, giving it a tight squeeze that makes every nerve in her body stand on edge. "Oh, I am so glad. Once the bell rings, we'll get started. We have a few math and writing activities—then we'll head out of the playground for some games." She gives Regina's hand a gentle tug, murmuring something about a math game she thinks Henry may enjoy and reluctantly, Regina follows her to her desk to look at it, reminding herself that she's doing this for Henry.
The morning passes quickly, and once the bell rings, Mary Margaret's attention turns to her students—and away from Regina. She stands in the back while they start with an activity—a Halloween math challenge, and Regina's eyes turn to Henry, watching as he struggles through it and she smiles when the little girl wearing the batwings leans over to help him. Henry grins and nods, then erases and tries again. And when it's time to do a Halloween-themed writing prompt, he and the little girl trade responses, giggling together as they read. It's sweet, she thinks—and though she wonders every day if returning to Storybrooke with Henry was the right choice for them, wondering if it wouldn't have just been easier to start a new life together in New York or Boston or somewhere else, she can't help feel glad that they're here and she can't help but feel grateful for the little support network they seem to be building—and she tries to ignore the fact that if she doesn't figure out something soon, that little network will fade away before the next fall.
After the kids write, there's a story, and then Mary Margaret leads her third graders out to the playground, which is decorated with orange and black balloons and streamers. There are ring tosses and guessing booths, a tic-tac-toe game that uses colorful bouncy balls to track the X's and O's, a whack-a-mole-game with cute little gophers that bob up and down, tug-of-war and hopscotch, a sand art table and a face-painting tent—and so much more. None of this is new to her—it's her office that funds the schools Halloween party—but actually seeing it all set up with kids running through and laughing with their friends makes it feel different than its felt in previous years, and a sense of accomplishment creeps up inside of her.
"I didn't think you were staying…" She turns to see Robin standing at a balloon pop game, grinning at her as he twirls a dart between his fingers. "Did Henry rope you into volunteering?"
She laughs softly and nods, "I really thought I was in the clear when I signed up to make cookies for the picnic."
"Ah, a rookie mistake," he tells her as he steps out of the booth and extends the dart to her. "Want to try?"
"I…shouldn't."
"Why not?"
"Well, for starters, I'm supposed to be watching third graders."
"They are fine," he says, gesturing past her. "Look, Henry and a couple of his friends are making sand art pictures and…that kid over there is just…swinging back and forth eating candy." She grins as she spots Roland, playing hopscotch with some of his classmates, while a group of little girls play tug-of-war nearby. "See?"
She turns back, smirking as her eyebrow arches at him. "There's also the fact that I…can't aim."
"Can't aim?"
"No," she says, laughing a little. "When I throw things, unless there is a very large target, they don't go where I expect them to go." She points at a balloon. "And those aren't even a little bit large." Robin's eyes narrow and a grin pulls onto his lips—and her brow furrows curiously as he eyes her. "What are you…"
"I bet it's not really an issue of not being able."
"Oh, but it is…" She rolls her eyes. "You don't know this, but I have a bit of a temper. And…you'd be amazed at the things I've avoided breaking, simply because I can't aim."
"I don't believe it."
"That I have a temper?"
"Oh, no," he's quick to say, chuckling softly as he cross his arms over his chest. "That I can believe," he tells her. "There's a fire in your eyes and…I may or may not have seen you barking once or twice at city workers the other day…"
"Well, if they'd only learn to use caution tape when they…"
He laughs out and shakes his head, "That's not what I meant though."
"No?"
"No. What I meant is I don't believe that you can't aim." He shrugs. "I just think your technique is off."
"My technique?" She asks. "It's hardly an art form."
"Again, I am going to have to disagree," he says, as a coy grin forms onto his lips as he uncrosses his arms and hands her the little dart. This time, she takes it reluctantly, looking down at it as Robin circles behind her. "Can I…try something?" She nods and her breath catches in her chest as Robin's hands touch to her elbows. She closes her eyes and swallows hard, trying to ignore the nearly electrical current that merely touch of his fingertips sends through her. "Just…a little higher," he murmurs, pushing up her elbows slightly. Her eyes open and she releases a shallow breath, as he turns her hips and then her shoulders. "Now, draw back your arm…"
She nods a little and pulls back her arm, "Like this?"
"Yes, now…throw."
She does and the dart skims past a balloon, piercing into the backboard three balloons over from the one she'd been attempting to hit. Rolling her eyes, she turns to him and places her hands on her hips. "See?"
"What I see is that that wasn't bad."
"I completely missed the balloon."
"You just barely missed it," he counters.
"That's a solid foot."
Robin shakes his head and laughs a little. "Now, turn back around." Again, she rolls her eyes, but does as he instructs and once more, her breath catches as he turns her back into position. This time, he doesn't withdraw when he tells her to pull back her arm, instead, his fingers curl around her hand and his other hand settles on her hip. "Lean back," he murmurs and when she does, she can feel his breath on her ear—and if she's supposed to be concentrating, he's making that impossible. "Good—now—I'll guide your hand as we throw it, okay?" She manages a nod as he draws her hand back a bit more and her eyes press closed as he pushes her hand forward, and when she hears a pop, her eyes fly open.
"See!?" Robin exclaims as his arms wrap around her waist as he pulls her back into a hug and there's a fluttering in her chest as she lets him. "And you said you couldn't aim!"
Regina just nods, pulling out of his hold and turning to face him as she releases a shaky breath and a smile tugs onto her lips. "Do I win anything?"
He laughs and quickly steps behind the booth, retrieving a little stuffed apple with arms and legs extending from it and an embroidered face bearing a wide smile. Robin extends it to her with a proud smile and she can't help but laugh out as she takes the apple—and once more, she feels her heart flutter in her chest.
They settle back in chairs, watching as the kids play. Every now and then a group of kids comes up to play the balloon game and Regina watches Robin helps them to square their shoulders and aim for the balloons. Some of the kids manage to pop one and when others don't, Robin lets them have another try, without taking another ticket from them. When it's lunchtime, the teachers bring out all the parent-supplied treats and the kids spread out of blankets with their lunches. Robin pulls an extra sandwich from his satchel and hands it to her, and she grins as she peels back the wax paper wrapping as he opens a back chips and offers to share.
She nods and takes a short breath, taking a chip and popping it into her mouth, laughing as one of the kids convinces Mary Margaret to bob for apples; and when she pulls herself up, wet-faced and dripping, there's an apple in her mouth and Regina feels a snicker rumbling in her chest at the sight of Mary Margaret Blanchard eating an apple. She catches her bottom lip between her teeth as she looks over at Robin, who chuckles softly, then turns back to watch as the kids cheer on their teacher, and then line up for a chance to catch their own apple.
By the time school ends, Henry is practically bouncing with excitement—undoubtedly fueled by a sugar high—when they enter her office, take-out from Granny's in hand. He's talking a mile a minute, recapping—for probably the third time—everything he did that day and who he did it with and outlining everything he's looking forward to in the coming evening. He asks all sorts of questions about the night's activities—questions that he already knows the answer to—and when she answers them—yet again—he looks up at her with such an innocent amazement, it's hard to be annoyed.
And there's a part of her that's glad for it—glad to be distracted, to have someone to keep her from thinking of all of planning and preparation that went into the night's events, how it all has to come together in just a few short hours, and how all of it is now out of her control—because the thought that terrifies her, even with something as trivial as a small Halloween parade.
Regina takes the Styrofoam containers out from the plastic bag and sets them on the conference table, then pulls out the ketchup and salt packets, and the plastic utensils, sighing when she finds that Ruby forgot the napkins—something she's learned is absolutely essential when dining with Henry when he eats anything that includes any sort of sauce. Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, she looks over at Henry who is sitting on the arm of the couch wearing a lopsided grin as he kicks his feet back and forth as he examines his shield.
"I'll be right back," she says with an aggravated sigh as she crumples the bag. "I am going to find some napkins."
"Okay," Henry replies passively, his feet continuing to clack his feet loudly against the leg of the couch as she leaves.
She's given her staff a rare day off. With all of the excitement over the annual Halloween festivities, there wouldn't be much coming through the Mayor's office today, and all of the preparations had to be completed in advance, so there was little for them to do—and, she'd been feeling benevolent. Now, as she looks around the empty office, she feels a soft pang of regret. Letting out a sigh, she digs through the cabinet in search of napkins. The cabinet is a mess, filled with a random assortment of office supplies and miscellaneous non-perishable groceries and a few craft items which she realizes must have some purpose, despite her being unable to fathom one. Grumbling, she closes the cabinet, then retreats into the common room, where most of her staff eats lunch. There's a thin little napkin tucked to a plastic package with a spork—again, something she muses must serve some purpose that she doesn't quite understand—and then she spots a roll of paper towel and grabs it, chuckling softly to herself as she thinks this might be preferable, given her son's eating habits.
"Henry, I found s…" her voice halts, as she sees Henry, crouching on the floor in front of a shattered lamp, some of the larger shards of porcelain in his hand. "HENRY! STOP!" She hears herself exclaim, her voice louder and harsher than she intended, as she tosses the paper towel onto a shelf by the door and her heart leaps into her throat. "What are you doing!?" He flinches and then looks up at her, his jaw trembling as tears fill his eyes. "Don't touch it!"
"But, I…" He stops and the pieces of broken porcelain fall from his shaky hands. "I'm sorry." She swallows hard she watches as he scrambles to his feet, looking up at her with wide eyes. "I didn't mean to do it. I swear I didn't mean to!"
"Are you okay!?" She asks, her heart still pounding wildly and her voice still louder than she wants it to be. Henry barely nods, then his face begins to crumble as he looks away from her, repeating again and again that he's sorry. Her heart clenches and she reaches for his hand, carefully leading him around the broken lamp. "What happened?" She asks as they sit together on the couch, her voice softening as her heart beat finally begins to slow down.
"I…I was pretending it was a…a bad guy and I…" His bottom lip beings to quiver and he looks back at the shattered lamp. "I'll clean it up…"
"I don't want you to do that Henry."
"But I…I broke it."
"I know," she says softly, tipping her head a little as she watches him stare at the lamp. "Henry, can you look at me?"
"I won't do it again, I promise." He murmurs, still not looking back at her. "I'll never break anything again."
"Yes you will," she tells him, with a slight chuckle behind her words "Henry, I need you to look at me." Slowly, she reaches out and turns his chin toward her. "Look at me," she says, waiting until he willingly turns his head the rest of the way and his teary eyes meet hers. Her heart clenches at the uncertainty she finds in them and the tracks on his cheeks. "Do I look like I'm mad at you?"
"No," he murmurs. "But…sometimes…" His voice trails off and his eyes fall away from hers. "Sometimes when people get mad, you can't tell. So you don't really know…"
"I'm not mad, Henry," she interjects in a soft, yet firm voice. "And I'm sorry that I raised my voice. I was just…scared." He blinks a few times and looks up at her. "I just afraid you were going to cut yourself." A small smile tugs onto her lips and she nudges his arm, "And it would be unfortunate if you had to miss out on the paraded and trick-or-treating to get stitches."
Henry's quiet for a minute, his brow furrowing as he stares at the rug beneath him, chewing at his lip. "I…I was afraid that…you'd send me back."
"Send you back?" She repeats, the words stabbing at her heart as a wave of guilt hits her. "Why would you think that?" Henry shrugs his shoulders and continues to stare out at the rug. Her chest tightens as Henry lets out a shaky breath. "Henry?"
"Because that's what they said would happen if I…I did things that made them mad." He blinks back his tears and looks over at her. "My foster mom said it happened before."
"Wh-what?" She asks, pushing out the word as it sticks to the back of her throat and her heart beat begins to quicken. "What happened before?"
"I was almost adopted, but…the lady who was going to adopt me gave me back," he murmurs as he looks up at her. "They said I was bad, so she gave me back."
Suddenly her mouth is dry and her stomach churns. Her heart beats faster and faster, so loudly that she can hear it pounding in her ears, as she reaches out and rubs her hand between his shoulders. "I can assure you of two things," she begins, doing her best to keep her voice even and soft. "The first is that…whatever happened all those years ago, it wasn't anything you did. It wasn't your fault." He nods but she can tell that he doesn't believe her, and it makes her heart ache knowing that her mistake was used to hurt him. "And second," she said, taking a breath. "Is that I am never going to do that. I love you, Henry." He offers her a lopsided grin and a little nod as her arm slides around his shoulders and she edges closer to him. "And you know what else?" He shakes his head and looks up at her. "There's going to be a point when I get mad. There's going to be a point when I lose my temper—and you know what else? There's going to be a point where you get mad and lose your tempter, too." Leaning in, she presses a kiss into his hair. "It won't ever mean that I love you any less and it won't mean that…that I'm going to give you back."
"Okay," Henry says in a small voice. "I am sorry about the lamp though."
"I know you are, sweetie," she said, squeezing him into her side as she hugs him tightly and struggles to keep her tears at bay.
By the time they leave her office for the parade, Henry has long forgotten that he'd been upset about anything, and he's resumed his excited chatter as they walked down Main Street. Still, there was a knot in her stomach that just won't go away, and tightens every time she looks at him.
She'd never intended to hurt him; and in spite of all the people she had hurt over the years, she'd never do anything to hurt him. Yet, as always, her intentions didn't really matter. It didn't matter that she'd given him up so that he would be happy and safe, surrounded by people who knew how to love. She'd never imagined that his life would turn out as it did and she'd never imagined that that one, fateful decision would be used to hurt him and make him feel inadequate, that her insecurity had turned into his; and she never imagined that even when she wasn't there, she was still able to hurt him.
"I've never seen a Halloween parade," Henry muses, peering curiously down Main Street, taking in the costumed-children lining the streets with their parents standing nearby. "We didn't have anything like this in my old neighborhood," he tells her looking up at her with a grin. "At least not that I ever saw."
"Oh, well, you know how small towns are…lots of quirky little traditions."
"Yeah…"
"So, after the parade, I have to give a speech," she tells him. "It's short, but…"
"Can we stand at the end of the parade route, then? Or do we have to miss it?"
"The end of the route is fine," she says with a small smile. "I can probably get to the podium in time."
"Or he can stand with us," Robin says, coming up behind them. "Then you don't have to rush." Regina smiles as Robin approaches. He's holding Roland's hand, who is dressed as the Hulk, and he's carrying something she can't quite make out over his shoulder—and Roland is doing the same. "Because even if you stand at the end, you'd have to practically run up to that little stage and," she watches as a grin twists onto his lips, "while I have no experience to pull from, I'd imagine that those shoes would be difficult to run in."
She looks down at her heels and chuckles softly. "I've never tried it, but you're probably right," she replies, looking back up at him. "Are you sure it wouldn't be too much trouble? He's…awfully hyper tonight." She glances over at Henry, watching as Roland shows off the details of his costume. "I wouldn't want to…"
"You're not imposing," Robin interjects. "Besides, Roland's been driving me crazy, practically bouncing off the walls." He grins. "I'm sure the story I've heard four-hundred times about how cool he thinks his sand art pumpkin is will be much more interesting to Henry, who hasn't heard it."
"Okay," she breathes out in concession. "Thank you."
"No need to thank me," he says gingerly. "So, we'll meet you up at the stage when it's over and then the four of us can proceed to the main event and collect as much sugar as possible."
She laughs and nods, as Robin offers her a little wink as his arm slips around Henry's shoulders and he guides him to the edge of the curb where he and Roland had been standing. She reluctantly takes a few steps backward and smiles as she watches Robin with their boys, watching as Roland shows Henry a green and purple drawstring bag and then Robin pulls a red and blue one off his shoulder and hands it to Henry. Her heart begins to beat a little faster and her stomach flutters as she watches Henry hold it up, and she can see there's a Captain America symbol on the front of it. And then, she watches as Henry pushes forward, hugging Robin as Robin's hand cups the back of his head and tussles his hair. She takes another reluctant step back, watching as Robin pulls back and lifts Roland onto his shoulder, then hugs Henry back against his legs as the high school marching band begins to play, marking the start of the parade.
From the stage she watches as goblins and ghosts dance down Main Street and zombies toss tootsie rolls and jolly ranchers at the kids lining the street. All of the local businesses have banners or floats and she watches as one of the men from Robin's store jumps down to hand Henry and Roland two large candy bars. Finally, she sees the flashing lights of the police car and she hears Graham's voice on a megaphone reminding the kids to be safe and have fun, and then everyone's proceeding to the town square. She gives a short speech, echoing the sentiments for safety and fun, reminding families that businesses marked with black-and-orange balloons will have games and contests for the kids. The crowd begins to disperse, some heading back down Main Street to check out the local businesses and others passing by her toward to begin going door-to-door for trick-or-treating.
"Excellent speech, Madam Mayor."
"Yeah, you did a good job, Mom," Henry tells her.
"You did!" Roland exclaims echoing Robin and Henry's sentiments with an eager nod. "Can start with trick-or-treating?"
"Roland…" Robin murmurs, nudging his son and shaking his head.
"Of course we can," Regina answers, before turning her eyes back up to Robin. "And thank you." Reaching out, she touches her fingers to drawstring back that Henry's holding. "This was very kind."
"Isn't it cool?" Henry asks, "Robin made it."
"You made it?" She asks, her eyes growing wide. "As in, you…sewed it?"
Robin chuckles softly and nods. "I used a pattern and everything."
"That's…impressive. I didn't know that you could sew."
"Neither did I," Robin tells her, a small chuckle behind his words. "But you inspired me." Her eyebrows arch and Robin winks at her as the four of them start forward, Henry and Roland leading the way toward the first subdivision off of Main Street. "Oh, I have something for you," he says, holding out a plastic lidded coffee mug. "I forgot I was holding two."
She takes it, grinning as the warmth from the coffee spreads up through her hands. "Thank you," she tells him as she takes a short sip. "This…isn't from Granny's."
"No," he murmurs in reply, as he takes a sip from his own mug, grinning over the lid. "It's my own special blend. It's of the Irish variety." She laughs out and takes a longer sip. "I figured it's going to be a long night and we could both probably use a bit of a pick-me-up."
She nods and once more feels a fluttering in her chest, "Well, I appreciate it. This was…very thoughtful."
They continue on, sipping the coffee and following the boys up and down street after street—and she's almost able to forget what Henry had told her that afternoon, But the the knot that formed in her stomach when he told her about his almost-adoption is still there, and still nagging, unwilling to let her forget for more than few minutes. When she hears him laugh, it's bittersweet—she's glad that he's happy now, but hates that it took him eight years to find that feeling. She watches him wave at the little girl from his class who had helped him with the math problems that morning, smiling when she waves back to him—and again, it's bittersweet knowing he could have had friends so much sooner and knowing they could still be torn away from him—all because of her. She barely notices when they boys approach the house of the Storybrooke's only dentist—who she remembers best as the incorrigible tooth fairy—crinkling their noses and exchanging disappointed looks as they walk away and pull packaged toothbrushes out of their bags, then drop them back in with sighs.
"You're awfully quiet," Robin says, nudging her arm with his elbow as they continue down the street.
"I'm just tired…"
"Are you sure?"
"No," she replies in a barely audible voice, slowly looking over at him. "I…I kind of snapped at Henry today."
"Oh and…I assume that it was the first time?"
"It was," she confirms with a nod. "I…didn't mean to and I didn't really snap at him. We were eating a quick dinner in my office and I went to find some napkins, and when I came back, he was on the floor kneeling in front of a broken lamp with these big shards of porcelain in his little hands and…"
"You were afraid…"
"I thought he was going to cut himself."
"I would have had the same reaction…"
"But he thought…" she turns to look at him. "He thought I was angry with him and…he thought that I was going to send him back."
"Oh…"
"Apparently, his foster family used to tell him that if he did something wrong, he'd be sent back."
"That's terrible," Robin says in a soft voice. "Who could do that to a little kid?"
"It happened to him once before," she says, her voice cracking a little as she looks away from him. "I…"
"What do you mean?"
"When Henry was a baby," she begins, taking a shaky breath. "He was almost adopted."
"And it fell through?"
Regina nods, "Kind of."
"Oh…" Her heart beats faster and her jaw tightens as tears well in her eyes—she wants to tell him, she was to talk to someone about this, and she wants someone else to tell her that it's okay, because no matter how many times she says it to herself, she doesn't believe it—and because she trusts him and it would mean something to her he were the one to say it. "Regina?"
"I just…" she stops and shakes her head. "I just wish I could change things for him," she says instead.
"You are changing things for him," Robin insists. "Every day, you are changing things for him."
She nods and takes a sip of the coffee, inhaling a deep breath as she looks back at him. "I'm just…I'm so afraid of hurting him."
"You won't," Robin tells her in a soft voice. "I know that you're new to the parenting thing, but you're good at it. You're a good mom and Henry is lucky to have you." A smile creeps onto his lips. "I snap at Roland at least ten times a day. It doesn't mean I love him any less or that he doesn't know that I love him. And it's the same for Henry—he knows that you love him." Her breath catches as Robin reaches for her hand and gives it a soft, reassuring squeeze. "You're his very own personal savior."
She laughs a little—he doesn't know the irony of his words, but in spite of that, she does feel a little better—and she supposes she's just going to have to live with the guilt, and do her best to make up for the things she can't change—just as she always has.
"Uh, so this is probably a bad time to say this," Robin begins, his eyes scanning the crowded sidewalk. "But I think it's possible that we've lost our sons."
Regina looks up and before she can panic, she spots Henry and Roland leaning against a tree a few houses up the street, arms crossed as they tap their feet impatiently, waiting for their parents to catch up. She smiles and it's only then that she realizes Robin is still holding onto her hand.
Quickly, she looks down at his fingers curled loosely round her palm and momentarily, considers withdrawing. "We didn't lose them," she says as her she closes her hand over his, giving him a gentle tug. "They're over there, giving us the evil eye." Robin laughs and follows her lead as they rejoin the boys and continue on trick-or-treating.
She's exhausted when she crawls into bed.
Henry fell asleep on the couch as they were sorting his candy—chocolates in one bowl, fruity and gummy candies in another, and then a pile of things he wouldn't eat to save his own life and the toothbrush in another. She'd carried him upstairs and changed him out of his costume, awkwardly pulling him into his pajamas. She'd sat on the edge of his bed for awhile, watching him as he slept and remembering how, in those few weeks that he'd been hers all those years before, she used to love to hold him and watch his little eyelids flutter as he dreamt. She sits there at his bedside, pushing her fingers into his hair and stroking him gently and thinking about all of the things she'd missed until she'd been barely able to keep her eyes open. So, she'd leaned in and kissed his forehead, saying goodnight and telling him that she loved him in a soft voice.
She'd tuned out his light and flicked on the nightlight, and then gone down the hall to her own room. She changed out of her clothes and took a quick shower, then changed into her pajamas and flipped on the alarm clock. She was asleep before her head even hit the pillow and she was only vaguely aware of the rain beginning to tap on the rooftop…
"Mom?"
"Yes, Henry?" She'd asks, barely lifting her head up as she struggles to open her eyes.
"Can I…sleep in here?"
"Mmhmm," she murmurs, peeling back the covers.
She hears him padding across the floor, then feels him get into the bed. He slips beneath the blanket and she pulls him close, a smile stretching onto her lips when he rolls onto his stomach and rests his head on her shoulder. She draws the blanket up around him and rests her head atop his.
"Did you have a bad dream?"
"No…" he murmurs in reply. "But it's raining and…I just…I'm worried it's going to turn into a storm." She presses a kiss into his hair. She tries to reply, but she can't. So, instead she rubs her hand lazily over his little back as she drifts back to sleep. "Mom?"
"Yes, Henry?" she murmurs groggily.
"I just…I just wanted to say that…that even thought I haven't said it, I…" She feels him swallow hard and this time, her eyes flutter open. "I love you."
A smile tugs onto her lips and she leans in and presses another kiss to the top of his head, "I love you, too, Henry."
"I know you do," he tells her, his tired voice full of confidence—and the knot in her stomach loosens just a little bit.