Meant to Be Yours

by grayautumnsky13

On a weekend trip to New York City, Regina Mills finds a little boy named Henry living on the street after running away from an abusive foster home.

17. Chapter 17

Regina's eyes close as a slight yawn escapes her and Robin presses a preemptive New Year's kiss to her temple. Her eyes flutter back open and she looks over at him, smiling gently as the pre-celebration of Dick Clark's Rockin' New Years plays. She shakes her head as her eyes shift to Roland, sitting on Robin's lap with hooded eyes, watching for a moment as the little boy struggles against himself to stay awake another ten minutes to see the New Year arrive. A soft chuckle rattles in Robin's chest as he nods down at Henry and when she follows his gaze, a smile pulls onto her lips. Henry's cheek is pressed against her leg, his eyes are closed and he's completely unaware of her fingers stroking through his hair.

"Hey," she murmurs in a loud whisper as her hand rubs up and down his side. "You're going to miss it?"

"Hmm?" Henry asks as his head tilts up. "What am I going to miss?"

"The New Year," Regina says with a small laugh behind her words.

"Yeah," Roland adds in a groggy voice. "You don't want to miss the New Year."

"But tomorrow morning will still be New Years."

"He… makes a good point," Robin says as his eyebrows furrow. "An excellent point, actually."

"But staying up late is so fun," Roland says, pouting out his bottom lip as it quivers with a yawn.

Regina shakes her head as a smile pulls onto her lips. "You two certainly seem to be enjoying it."

"Yeah… things are really getting wild her."

Regina laughs as Roland starts to reply, but instead of words another yawn escapes him and Robin hugs him back against his chest, peppering kisses against his cheeks and making him giggle and squirm as Henry rolls onto his side and cuddles against her. And when her eyes shift back to the TV and she watches the time ticking down in the corner of the screen, her chest clenches and her jaw tightens—because in eight minutes, she'll have to give up the happy little bubble they've all been living in and turn her attention to doing the impossible and breaking the curse… and hopefully not pushing her son away in the process. Taking a breath, she looks back to Henry, watching as he rubs at his eyes and then, she glances to Robin and Roland—and its only then that she realizes that for the first time since coming to Storybrooke, she's actually happy… and she's not ready for that to end.

That morning she and Henry had awoken early and finished The Chamber of Secrets—and then, over chocolate chip pancakes, they read the first four chapters of The Prisoner of Azkaban—which, as of now, Regina had to admit was her favorite of the series. At that, Henry had smiled a little sadly and patted her shoulder as he warned her not to get too attached to Sirius Black. She'd laughed a little and nodded, promising not to as she cuddled him closer and turned the page to continue on to chapter five.

After a cozy morning of cuddling on the couch with the book, they'd met Robin and Roland in the park where the boys played in the snow. They had a snowball fight and they built a fort—which they quickly knocked down—and all the while she and Robin sat on a nearby bench. He'd pulled her legs over his lap and wrapped his arms around her and even though she wasn't cold, she couldn't help but cuddle into his side and enjoy the way his hands would rub over her back. After a couple of hours, they'd ended up at Granny's for lunch of grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup—and a grin had stretched over Robin's lips as he suggested that after lunch, they go back to the park to ice skate on the frozen pond. Henry and Roland immediately nodded, but she'd hesitated, using the excuse of not owning a pair of ice skates as a reason not to participate. Robin's grin turned coy as reminded her that he owned a sporting goods store and her problem could easily be remedied. And when she'd almost sheepishly admitted that she didn't know how to skate, his grin brightened, he promised that he'd hold her and wouldn't let her fall.

Her cheeks had flushed and she'd nodded—and an hour later, the four of them were walking out of Robin's shop and she was holding a bag with a brand new pair of ice skates in them.

Henry giggled as she laced up the skates and he assured that it was just like riding a bike and she'd get the hang of it in no time—and then, he'd leaned in, asking in a hushed voice if she knew how to ride a bike. Her lip caught between her lips and his eyes widened at the realization that she didn't, and his head shook as his hand fell to her knee and he told her he had so much to teach her. At that, Robin chuckled softly and pulled her up and led her onto the ice. She watched as the boys twirled and chased each other, all the while trying to figure out how to get her feet to push her forward. As promised, Robin held onto her, never once letting her fall despite her shaky legs and wobbly knees—and by the end of the afternoon, it didn't matter that she could barely hold herself upright because her cheeks hurt from smiling and her lungs hurt from laughing; and, every now and then, when she looked at the people around her, in spite of everything that brought them to this moment—in spite of curses and poor choices, in spite of all the loss and insecurity—everything had brought them to this moment, and though she wouldn't dwell on it for very long, she couldn't help but think it was all worth it.

After skating, they'd all ended up at her house—Robin and Roland with overnight bags in tow—and the boys spent the rest of the daylight hours sitting at one end of the kitchen counter with pages from Roland's new Harry Potter coloring book and a box of Henry's art supplies between them. And as she and Robin started dinner a conversation that began as casual conversation about which houses at Hogwarts they'd all be sorted into quickly went turned intense. Then, before any of them knew what was happening, Henry was running off to his room to print quizzes for them to take and when he retuned with four copies in hand, the cooking and coloring was put on hold. Robin finished his quiz first, proudly announcing that he was a Gryffindor, despite not really know what that meant and Regina couldn't help but smile as he beamed at Henry when he too announced he'd been sorted into Gryffindor. Regina's lip caught between her teeth as she struggled through the questions, nonetheless smiling as Henry helped Roland read though his quiz—and before she was even half way done, Roland had his answer and he was part of Hufflepuff. All eyes fell to her as she continues with her quiz, trying to decide which of the many sides of her fell where and what piece of her personality would prevail. She took a breath, hesitating before choosing her last answer and she could feel Henry watching her pencil move as she tallied up her score—and she felt an odd sense of relief, and even pride, when the quiz sorted her into Ravenclaw.

Once it was all settled, she and Robin went back to preparing dinner and the boys went back to coloring, but their conversation remained the same—and she felt an odd sensation stirring at her core as they discussed magical classes and spells and potions. Leaning in, Robin pressed a quick and slightly reassuring kiss to her cheek, offering a wink as he pulled back to slide their pizza into the oven—and she wondered if he sensed what she was feeling.

After dinner, Robin and the boys made a fort by the fire, and they'd practically dragged her inside of it to make s'mores with them. Henry and Roland laughed as they pulled sticky marshmallows from their skewers and Roland was quick to sneak extra pieces of the chocolate bar, looking up at Robin with wide and guilty eyes and then smiling victoriously when Robin pulled him into his lap, not seeming to notice the extra pieces of chocolate smashed between marshmallows and graham crackers. Henry leaned back against her, cuddling into her side as he licked gooey marshmallow from his fingers and asked what Hogwarts classes they'd want to take most. Robin's brow furrowed as he glance between them all—and she laughed as Henry took a deep breath as thought temper his disbelief as he patiently began to list choices—care of magical creatures, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts, ancient runes, potions, history of magic—a list that was seemingly endless and unintentionally reminiscent of the life she'd left behind.

She felt a small pang of something that she couldn't quite place—something that felt like guilt, but also like hope—and when she looked up, she couldn't help but notice the way Robin's eyes had shifted to her or the soft smile that stretched across his lips. And she finds herself wondering if this is what acceptance felt like.

The rest of the evening was spent on the couch wearing pajamas and cuddled up underneath blankets as a warm fire crackled in the fireplace and they watched the New Year's show. Eventually, Robin's arm slid across her shoulders and by ten-thirty, both boys were cuddled up with them and cocooned in blankets, more than ready for New Year to come so that the celebration could be over and they could go to bed.

Both kids sit up as the final countdown begins—and Regina watches as Henry's lip catches between his teeth as he watches the countdown and she can't help but notice the way he inhales a short breath and slowly releases it. But when the countdown hits zero and the new year lights and the sound of Auld Lang Syne plays from the TV, she doesn't think to ask—instead she wraps her arms around him, pulling him back against her as she presses a kiss to his cheek. Henry laughs out and squirms against her as her fingers tickle his sides and she presses a few kisses to his hair.

"Happy New Year, Henry," she whispers into his ear.

"Happy New Year, Mom," he returns, tipping up his chin to look back at her. "Can we go to bed now?"

"What? Bed? Now?" She asks, furring her brow and trying her best to stifle her urge to laugh. "It's New Years!"

"I'm tiiiiiired," he says as his head falls back into her lap.

"Me, too," Roland announces in a voice that's equal parts chipper and groggy. "Can we sleep in the fort?"

Robin's eyebrows arch as Regina looks to Robin who shrugs. "I… don't see why not," Regina answers, looking between Henry and Roland, who both roll off of the couch, dragging their blankets into the fort. Robin and Regina both follow them, tucking them in and kissing them goodnight before finally making their way upstairs to Regina's bedroom.

"You know," Robin begins as a grin stretches onto his lips. "We never got a New Year's kiss.

"No… we didn't," she murmurs in reply as he takes a few steps toward her. She swallows hard as his hands slide over her hips, pulling her toward him until they're standing chest-to-chest and he's leaning and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Happy New Year," she says as he takes a half step back.

"Happy New Year," he tells her in a voice that's soft and sincere as his blue eyes sparkle. "This year is going to be the best one yet."

"You think?"

"Yeah," he tells her with a nod as his hands rub over her hips. "It has to be. I have you in my life."

She bristles a little as she turns out of his arms, moving toward the bed and pulling back the covers. "This years is… going to change everything."

"That's not a bad thing."

"I know," she sighs as she gets into bed. "I just… wish we could stay like this. That you and me and Henry and Roland could just… live forever in the happy little bubble we've been living in for the past few weeks."

Robin blinks as he gets into bed beside her. "No matter what happens, you're not going to lose that."

"Maybe not…" She takes a breath. "What if he thinks I'm crazy? What if he doesn't believe me? I mean, why would he?"

"Because he's eight and he loves you and… because it's the truth."

Nodding, she lays back; and for a moment, she doesn't reply. Instead she finds her thoughts drifting to Henry and the curse and how a small part of her wishes she'd just stayed in New York with him and started a brand new life there. It would have been easy enough and she wouldn't have to worry about curses and lies and truths that sounded more like fiction than they did reality. She wouldn't have to worry about hard eyes and hurt feelings, and she wouldn't have to explain the choices she'd made a life time ago or confront the feelings she wished she could forget. But then, Robin's fingers trail up her arm and a smile pulls onto her lips, and in spite of everything, she can't help but feel glad that she brought Henry home with her.

"What if I can't do it?"

"Break the curse?"

She nods. "Everyone else will forget, but Henry won't. He'll… watch everyone living the same year again and again, lost in the fog and…" She sighs and turns her head on the pillow. "He's already had his heart broken too many times."

Robin's eyes narrow and he rolls onto his side, propping his head up in his hand. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw you… well… saw you in Storybrooke?"

Regina's eyebrows arch, somewhat caught off guard by his question. "No. You… never have."

A smile pulls onto his lips and he chuckles softly. "It was in the first few years of the curse," he begins. "And you were standing in front of Granny's ripping into someone for… who knows what and, I stood across the street thinking…"

"That I needed a mild sedative?"

"No," he says, chuckling again. "I remember thinking that you were the kind of person I'd want to have in my corner."

"Why?" She asks immediately, her eyes widening. "I sound like I was behaving… horrendously."

"I didn't see it that way. What I saw was a woman who was standing up for herself, a woman who wasn't afraid to speak up and didn't sugar coat things… a woman who'd fight for something that was important."

"Oh…"

"I wanted to know you."

Regina nods and she offers her a sheepish little grin. "I don't imagine I was… easy to approach in those days."

"No," Robin admits. "But I started going to city council meetings just to see you, hoping that…"

"You didn't," she interjects, her eyes widening. "You did not attend meetings to… see me."

"Oh, I did," he replies. "I know you keep records of everything and there were always sign in sheets. Go back and look. I was there. I never missed one." He laughs again as his eyes meet hers. "I… thought maybe I could get to know you, that eventually, I'd work up the courage to talk to you."

"I was that intimidating?"

"You're… way out of my league. You realize that, right?"

At that, she scoffs. "Right. A tyrannical, mass-murdering…"

"No," he cuts in. "An ambitious and bold woman, who knows what she wants, and who I always thought could do a lot better than me…and happens to be stunningly beautiful." A grin pulls onto his lips. "And my plan worked… eventually."

"Did it?"

"I'm here, aren't I?" She can't help but smile as her eyes roll. "Twenty-some odd years later, I finally got the girl."

She feels her cheeks flush a little and she nods, laughing softly as she looks down at the empty space between them. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," he says simply. "I think you could use a reminder that things work out when they're supposed to and… that doesn't have to be tomorrow."

"But the longer I delay…" she sighs, her voice trailing off as her eyes shift up to his. "This curse isn't going to break overnight and the longer it takes, the… the less likely it is to happen."

"You're afraid it's impossible."

"I… know it's not impossible," she admits, "I just don't know that it's possible for me to break."

"You'll find a way," he tells her in a voice that's full of confidence. "Things that seem impossible aren't always impossible… and… you have help."

"Help?"

"Me."

"But you…"

"Will do whatever you need me to do," he interjects. "I… don't actually know what that means or what I've just volunteered myself to do, but that's okay. If you need me, I'm here."

A grin pulls onto her lips and she pushes herself toward him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. "I love you," she tells him softly, before rolling over to turn out the light. "And thank you."

"For what?"

"For being in my corner."

He slides toward her and drapes his arm loosely around her middle. He drops a quick kiss to her jaw as her eyes sink closed. "I love you, too," he murmurs gently as a smile edges onto her lips—and though she doesn't quite understand why, she's grateful for it.

Regina wakes up early the next morning, slowly and carefully sliding away from Robin and out of the warmth of her bed. Shivering slightly, she pads across the room, reaching for her robe and pulling it on for an extra layer of warmth. She looks back at Robin, sleeping peacefully and completely unaware of her absence and a tight smile pulls onto her lips as her thoughts immediately shift to the curse.

She lingers for a moment, then pushes out of the bedroom, tightening the robe around her waist. She steps into her office and moves behind the desk, retrieving a key from the top drawn to unlock another—and with a deep breath, she plucks out an old leather book. Looking down at it, she runs two fingers over the cover, feeling her way over the once so familiar embossed cover of the only magic book that doesn't reside in her vault. There's a ribbon in one of the pages—a page she marked when she first heard of the Dark Curse. She remembers the way she poured over the pages, taking in the details of casting the curse and how it'd work—and she remembers the rage that had bubbled up within her when she realized that actual curse was not included in the book's pages. Swallowing hard, she opens the spine and flips through the pages, and she feels a nostalgic little smile tug onto her lips—and then, she feels a wave of guilt wash over her. Snapping the book closed, she tucks it underneath her arm and heads toward the kitchen in search of coffee.

When she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she can see a light coming from the kitchen and her brow furrows. Peeking into the living room, she sees Roland's little feet sticking out from underneath the blanket—and for a moment, she lets herself get lost in his sweetness. His little fingers clutch a thick flannel blanket and his messy curls are particularly unruly—and then she realizes that he's alone. Taking a couple of steps into the living room, she cranes her neck, looking toward the couch and arm chair, and deeper into the tent—and a soft sigh escapes her when she realizes the light in the kitchen is Henry.

Glancing quickly at the clock, she makes her way into the kitchen—and for a moment, she lingers in the doorway, watching as Henry sits on his stool at the counter and arranges rows of crayons and colored pencils. He draws an orange colored pencil from the box and stares at it for a moment, chewing at his lip as he pushes it between a red pencil and one in a lighter shade of orange, and then, his attention turns back to the box.

"You're up early," Regina says, smiling when he turns his head. "How long have you been up?"

"I don't know."

"Oh…" she murmurs as she pushes into the room. "What are you doing?"

"Organizing my coloring supplies," he says as he plucks a purple crayon from the box. "They got kind of messy yesterday."

"I see," she says, slips onto the stool beside him. "Why?"

"Well, they're nice," he says, looking up at her. "I've never had nice things before and… I want to keep them that way."

She nods as she sets the book down on the counter, opposite Henry, and she reaches out, running her fingers through the front of his hair. "Did you have a nightmare?"

"Not… really."

"Are you sure? Because… it's ten minutes past six and you were up late," she tells him in a soft voice. "I expected you to sleep until lunchtime."

"I just… couldn't go back to sleep," he admits, as he rubs two fingers over a row of crayons. "I've… got a lot on my mind, I guess."

"Do you?" He nods, still focused on the crayons. "Anything you want to share?" For a moment, he doesn't say anything and she watches as he pulls a green colored pencil from the box and twirls it slowly between his fingers. "You can tell me anything, you know," she says as her hand falls from his hair to his shoulder. "Anything…"

"I know," he says in a low voice, nodding a little as he looks up at her. "I just… it was weird seeing New York again."

"Ahhh…"

"I kept… looking for them," he admits as his eyes fall away from hers. "They had a little restaurant a few blocks from Times Square and I just kept… waiting."

"I should have… thought…"

"It's not your fault," Henry's quick to say as his eyes shift back to hers. "I just never want to see them again… ever."

"And you won't have to," she says, her thoughts momentarily drifting to the magical barrier that surrounds Storybrooke, protecting it from the outside world. "They can't find you here."

"I know," he says. "Maine's really far away."

"Yeah… it is." He takes a short breath. "I dreamt that they found me. They knocked on the door and the police were with them and… they were going to take me away." His brow furrows. "It felt so real."

"Oh, Henry," she murmurs, leaning forward and wrapping her arms around him, practically pulling him off the stool as she tugs him into a tight embrace. "That's not going to happen."

"I know…"

"I would never let them…"

"I know," he cuts in. "But sometimes, I just… think about that."

She sighs as her heart clenches at the thought of Henry, laying in the little fort in the living room, wide-awake in the dark room, fearing that at any moment a knock would come at the door and tear him out of a world he was just only starting to believe was secure—and then, she feels that familiar pang of guilt as she thinks of how the security she's given him actually is. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I don't know," he murmurs, shrugging his shoulders as she pulls back a little, careful to keep her arms around him. "I just… didn't."

She takes a breath. "Was it because Robin's here?"

"No," he murmurs as his eyes fall away from hers. "I like that Robin's here. It's fun having him and Roland around."

"Would you tell me if… it wasn't? Or if you felt like things were… moving too quickly or…"

"I don't think that," he's quick to say. "I really do like that, sometimes, it's… it's kind of like we're all a family." He shrugs. "I've… never known what that was like and… I like it." He looks back up at her and takes a breath. "I'm just worried that… it's… all going to go away someday."

"Oh," she breathes out, not really knowing what to say as her guilt begins to bubble up inside of her.

"What's that?" She blinks, as she follows Henry's gaze to the leather book at her side, and she finds herself caught off guard by the question. "It looks… old."

"It is…"

"We're you going to read it?" She nods as she glances from the book to Henry. "Do you want to read it together?"

She can't help but smile at this eagerness and her eyes narrow. "How about, instead of reading this dusty old book, I make some coffee for myself and I'll make you some hot chocolate…"

"With whipped cream and cinnamon?"

"With whipped cream and cinnamon," she agrees. "And we'll cuddle up on the couch and read more of The Prisoner of Azkaban. What do you think?"

A grin twists onto his lips. "But what if we wake up Roland?"

"Well, then… he can… cuddle up and read with us." Henry giggles as she leans in and presses a kiss to his forehead. "Now, clean up these coloring supplies while I make the coffee and hot chocolate and then we'll… see what happens with those tea leaves."

"Mom, did you read ahead?"

"Maybe just a little," she says, chuckling softly as Henry's eyes widen—and then, she feels another pang of guilt as she turns away from him and reaches for the coffee, pushing away thoughts for breaking the curse for a least a few more hours.

It's just before lunchtime and there's a dull ache at her temples and the back of her head, just at the base of her neck—and she takes a long, deep breath has she turns the page and tries to refocus. For hours, she's been reading about the creation of the Dark Curse and how it was meant to manifest, hoping to pick up on some detail that would trigger something—anything—that would help her in breaking it.

But instead, all it did was fill her with regret and self-loathing.

Snapping the book shut, she presses her eyes closed. She can almost feel herself opening the book for the first time, remember the way her heart surged when she read about the curse and how she felt she'd finally found her answer. She remembers the way she obsessed about it, ultimately pushing away the one ally she'd had—and then, how she'd stolen the curse from her. She'd briefly faltered over one ingredient—but she stopped at nothing and she remembers the morning she awoke in Storybrooke for the first time, and tingly triumph that overtook her. And she remembers how glad she was that she'd cast the curse, finally giving herself everything she thought she'd wanted.

And still, in spite of everything, she still felt that way—but not for the same reasons.

Then, her victory had been short-lived. The curse wasn't at all what she'd expected and somehow, she was lonelier than she'd ever been. But it'd all be worth it because it brought her Henry, and then Robin and Roland—and somewhere along the way, they'd taught her what it was like to have a full life, they taught her what it meant to be truly happy.

There's a light knock at the door, then the sound of it open and her eyes fly open and her jaw tenses. "What part of do not disturb is unclear?"

"I… I'm sorry, Madam Mayor," her secretary stammers. "It's just that… Mr. Locksley is on the phone. He said it's… um… important."

"Oh, put the call through."

"You… you're sure?"

"Yes," Regina replies incredulously, as if her secretary's caution hasn't been warranted. "Of course." After a quick nod, her secretary disappears and the door closes, and her fingers tap impatiently on the phone as she waits for the call to come through. A half second later, the phone rings and she picks it up, her demeanor instantly changing. "Robin, hi."

"Hi," he says with a soft chuckle behind his words. "I… think you made your secretary cry again."

"She's just… overly sensitive," Regina says dismissively, rolling her eyes and smiling as Robin laughs. "I… thought I wasn't going to hear from you today because inventory was going to take all day…"

"I, uh, hate to cut right to chase but that's kind of why I'm calling. I need a favor."

"Oh, okay…"

"I'm stuck here and I just got a call from the school," he begins. "Roland's sick."

"Oh…"

"And I was wondering if you could… pick him up."

"You want me to pick up Roland because he's sick."

"Yes," he says quickly. "But, if you're busy or you…"

"No, no, no, no," she interjects. "I'm not. I can pick him up."

"And just… maybe bring him to the store so…"

"Nonsense," she cuts in again. "I'll take him home."

He hesitates for a moment. "You'd have to stay with him, and i… don't know when I'll be able to get out of here."

"I know," she says quickly. "That's okay. I'll pick up Henry, too and take them back to your place and… unless you'd rather me bring him to the store."

He laughs a little. "You're sure it wouldn't be an imposition?"

"Not at all," she returns as a smile pulls onto her lips as she pushes the magic books away and rises to her feet, thinking of the night he'd dropped everything to come over when Henry was sick. "I'd love to spend an afternoon with the boys."

"I should warn you, Roland's sort of… high maintenance when he's sick."

"That's okay," she murmurs as a smile edges onto her lips. "I know a thing or two about being high maintenance."

Robin laughs and she wonders if he's thinking about how helpless she was when Henry was sick and how panicked she'd been, not knowing what to do or how to soothe him—and she wonders if he wouldn't be better to just drop Roland off at the store. "Okay, then. I'll call the school at let them know that you're on the way. And, Regina—thank you."

"It's no problem at all," she says as a smile pulls onto her lips and her heart flutters at his confidence. "I'm leaving now," she says as hangs up the phone, quickly rounding her desk and reaching for her coat.

On the way out the door, she calls to her secretary to take the afternoon off—not really caring if she heard her and assuming that made up for her earlier rudeness—and ten minutes later, she was standing in the main office of the elementary school, waiting for Roland and Henry.

Her chest swells and a smile pulls onto her lips as they both turn toward the office from opposite directions, and Henry takes Roland's backpack and slings it over his arm. As they near she can see Roland pouting, looking absolutely miserable as his shoulders slump forward. When he's close enough, she reaches out her hand, wiggling her fingers at him and smiling gently when his little fingers fold around her palm and he lets out a little whimper.

By the time they reach Robin's cabin, she's deciphered that Roland has the beginnings of a cold. His throat is scratchy and he's sniffling and batting the back of his hand at his nose, and his eyes are a little red. When she presses the back of her hand to his forehead, he lets out another whimper, and though he feels a little clammy, it doesn't feel like a fever.

"Okay," she begins, taking a breath as she glances between the boys. "How about we get you into some pajamas?"

"My fuzzy ones?"

Regina blinks. "Um, sure. Yeah, of course… the fuzzy ones."

"I'll help find them," Henry declares as they make their way back to Roland's bedroom—a messy room that's adorned with superhero posters. "What color are they."

"They're lots of colors," he replies with a little sigh as Regina turns to his dresser.

"Oh, okay," Regina murmurs, watching as Henry's shoulders shrug and he opens a dresser drawer—and four drawers later, she finds the pajama drawer. She smiles at her small victory, then begins sifting through the drawer in search of something fuzzy and multi-colored, only to find that all of Roland's pajamas seem to be various colors of plaid. "What are some of the… lots of colors… in them?" She asks, watching as Roland flops back onto his bed with a dramatic sigh, but without a reply. Henry giggles and she turns back to the drawer, helplessly looking down at the unfolded pajamas that fill the drawer, resolving to scoop them all up and toss them onto the bed until Roland settles on a pair—but she just as she slides her hand to the bottom of the drawer she feels something that feels like fleece—and a bright smile pulls onto her lips when she pulls out a pair of flannel, but fleece-lined tie-dyed bottoms. "Ah ha!"

"You found them," Roland murmurs, turning his head in her direction.

"I said I would," she replies, standing up and brandishing the pants. "They, um… don't have a matching shirt or anything, do they?" Roland shakes his head and Henry giggles again. "Okay, now, let's get you into these."

Roland is practically dead weight as she changes him—and her heart can't help but flutter when she turns to take a t-shirt that Henry's holding out to her, and she sees that Henry's emptied the drawer and is working on folding all of Roland's pajamas.

Finally, Roland is changed and tucked into his bed. Regina sits on the edge beside him, stroking her fingers through the front of her hair. His eyes flutter—each time staying closed longer than before—while Henry sits on the floor, still folding laundry and placing it back into the drawer. She smiles as she looks between them, then leans in and presses a kiss to Roland's cheek. "We're going to leave you alone for a bit, so you can get some rest, okay?"

"Mm, yeah," Roland murmurs as she with draws.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"Okay…"

"I'll be back in a little to check on you," she tells him as she gets up from the bed, reaching for Henry's hand as he tucks on last pair of pajama bottoms into the drawer and closes it. They reach the door and she turns off the light—and just as she's about to step into the hallway, she hears Roland's little groggy voice and turns back.

"Regina?"

"Yeah?"

"I missed lunch."

"Oh," she murmurs, taking a step back into the room. "Are you hungry?"

"I don't know."

"Does your stomach hurt?"

"Yes."

"Does it hurt because you're not feeling well or because you're hungry?"

"I don't know."

"Oh," she says again, looking back at Henry, who only shrugs. "Well, I guess I can get you some crackers."

"What kind?"

Regina blinks. "Assuming your dad has some, probably just some saltines."

"The little ones? That go in soup?"

She blinks again. "Yeah. If they're in the cupboard."

"Okay."

"Alright," she says with a soft chuckle as Roland snuggles into his blanket. "I'll be back in a minute."

Once more, Henry giggles as he follows her into Robin's kitchen; and when she opens the cupboard, she breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of a bag of little, unsalted oyster crackers. She grabs them and reaches for a little bowl, pouring a handful of crackers into it before heading back to Roland's room.

She sits down at the edge of his bed, holding the bowl as he plucks a few out—and she can't help but laugh as Henry's eyes widen as he pulls open another, unorganized drawer. Roland eats a few of the crackers and smiles up at her as her hand rubs his back.

"Are those hitting the spot?"

"Yeah," he nods. "I think so."

"Good," she murmurs as he leans in to press a kiss to his hair—and then before she realizes what's happening, Roland pushes the bowl away from his lap and his shoulders heave forward. Her eyes sink closed as she feels wet warmth in her lap and when Roland's head lifts back up his shoulders heave forward again and another gush of vomit flies forward and onto her sweater. She groans as her eyes sink closed—and then, she hears Henry burst out laughing.

"I'm sorry," Roland murmurs sheepishly, his cheeks flushing as his bottom lip catches between his teeth—and when tears flood his eyes, she can't help but grin.

"It's okay," she tells him, taking a breath. "It's… nothing that can't be cleaned up."

Henry hands her a sweatshirt—and she grimaces, wiping it over her skirt. "Should I go start a bath?"

She nods as her smile tightens. "Yeah, that's… probably a good idea."

"I didn't mean to," Roland tells her in a shaky voice. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologize," she tells him as she pulls back this soaked blanket and tosses the sweatshirt on top of it—and then, she feels a soft laugh rumbling in her chest. "Hey, at least your fuzzy pajama bottoms are safe."

"Yeah," he nods, his cheeks again flushing as "I missed them."

"Well," she murmurs as she takes his hand, and helps him out of bed, "Thank goodness for small favors."

Henry started Roland's bath and helped him to wash his face and hands while she'd quickly retreated into Robin's room in search of something to change into. She'd dropped her sweater into his hamper and reached for a pair of sweat pants before pulling off her skirt—and she laughed at her reflection in the mirror. The sweats were too big in every possible way—the waist had to be rolled and so did the legs, and when she rolled them to her knees, it only emphasized the bagginess. She left her tank top on and headed to the bathroom, dismissing Henry of his short-lived babysitting duties before helping Roland into the tub.

Her eyebrow arched when she discovered a small vile of lavender oil in the medicine cabinet—and she couldn't help but smile as Roland inhaled a deep breath and lied back against the edge of the tub. His eyes closed and he took long, deep breaths, comforted by the smell of the oil and the warmth of the water. Reaching for a bottle of soap and a washcloth, she hated to pull him up—and once more, he was like dead weight as she washed him. A small grin pulled into his lips as she washes his hair, her fingers massaging his scalp for much longer than necessary—and when she pulled him out of the tub and wrapped him in a soft towel, she couldn't help but hug him to herself and cuddle him a bit.

Twenty minutes after the bath, Roland was on the couch, covered in two blankets as Henry read to him. She stripped the bed and collected the laundry, and started a load of wash—unable to not smile every time she glance at Henry and Roland, curled up together on the couch, in the middle of the first Harry Potter book, which Henry had found on his nightstand.

Padding into the kitchen, she scanned the refrigerator and cupboards, scraping together the ingredients for soup and something that would successfully turn soup into a meal.

With a quick glance across the counter and into the living room, she watched Roland's eyes drooping as Henry read—and her chest swelled as she scooped out two cups of flour to being her egg noodles. Reaching for the eggs, she cracked them into a separate bowl, whisking the eggs until they were thoroughly mixed and ready to be added to the flour. She glanced up at the boys again, as she mixed the flour and eggs together—and then, turned her attention to kneading the dough.

"What are you doing?"

"Making noodles for soup," she says, grinning as Henry comes into the kitchen. "Want to help?"

Henry nods and comes into the kitchen. "Roland fell asleep, and I thought it'd be rude to continue the story without him," he tells her as he drags a stool over to where she stands.

"That was thoughtful."

"I know he's seen the movie, but the book's so much different."

"It is…"

"Do you think Robin will be mad that Roland and I read ahead of where he stopped?"

"I doubt it."

"Good," Henry murmurs as he pulls himself up onto the stool. "What can I do?"

"Roll out the dough," Regina replies as she extends a rolling pin to him. "Thank you for helping."

"You know I like cooking. It's no big deal…"

"Not with the noodles," she says as a grin tugs onto her lips. "With Roland."

"Oh…"

"I'm not very… good at taking ca…"

"Yes you are," Henry blinks. "You're great at taking care of people."

"Well… thank you," she murmurs, laughing a little as she thinks of how helpless she felt the first time he was sick. "I… appreciate that."

"You don't give yourself enough credit, Mom."

Again, she laughs a little as she turns to the refrigerator and pokes at a still-frozen chicken, wishing for the first time in a long time that she had the ability to solve things magically. "When it's rolled out cut it into strips," she instructs—pointedly ignoring Henry's suggestion as she unwraps the chicken. "Then you can slice up some celery."

"What about the carrots."

"I enjoy all of your fingers being intact, so… no. I'll do those." Henry giggles. "But if you want more to do, you can measure out the spices for me."

"Okay," he says in an agreeable tone as he carefully drags the tip of a knife through the dough. "Can you use that if it's still frozen?"

"Well," she replies in a tentative as she looks up at him. "I've never done it, but… I'm going to try it."

Henry's eyebrows arch as she reaches for a pot and fills it with water. "If we all get food poisoning…"

"We're not going to get food poisoning."

"If you say so…"

"I do say so," she murmurs as her eyes roll, and she turns her attention back to the pot on the stove. She waits until the water is bubbling before she drops the chicken into it—and fifteen minutes after, she lifts out an unfrozen chicken and grins at Henry, who still looks skeptical. Nonetheless, they continue on—nestling the chicken into a Dutch oven and filling it with water, celery, carrots and the spices Henry lined up on the counter.

"Now what?"

Regina blinks. "We just wait." He looks back at Roland who's still sleeping on the couch and sighs. "Or… we could make some bread."

"Bread?"

"Yeah," she says with a little laugh. "Well," she murmurs as she pulls open the refrigerator and pulls out two tubes of pre-packaged bread dough. "If we cheat." She shrugs. "We could… jazz it up a little bit and then dip it in the soup."

"Can it be cheesy?"

"Maybe," she murmurs, as she turns her head to peer into the refrigerator. "If Robin has cheese… somewhere in here."

"Okay," Henry says. "Should we check on the laundry first?"

"Oh… right…"

Together, they go into the laundry room and Henry helps her collect the wet laundry and set the dryer settings; then, they start they return to the kitchen. Henry starts to roll out the dough, while Regina goes to check on Roland—grinning softly as he snores and drools onto his pillow. She adjusts the blankets around him and brushes the now-dry unruly curls from his forehead before returning to Henry.

The rest of the afternoon is passed quickly—and it's easy enough for forget about her stressful morning and the curse and lose herself in teaching her son to shred chicken and make egg noodles and bread. The sun is fading when Roland perks up, sitting up and looking around as he sniffs at the air.

"Look who's up," Regina calls as she rounds the counter into the living room. "How are you feeling?"

"Better… I think," he says in a groggy voice—and no sooner as the words leave his lips, he sneezes and lets out a little whimper as he swallows. "Or not."

"Oh, sweetheart," she sighs, scooping him up and carrying him into the kitchen. She sets Roland down on the counter top as Henry offers a sympathetic smile. "Okay, well, according to your dad's text, if a little rest doesn't cure you I can give you some… of…" she reaches into a cabinet and pulls down a bottle of red liquid. "…this."

"No, thank you," Roland says as he tries to muster a grin. "I'm suddenly feeling better."

"Somehow I don't believe you," Regina says as she pulls the little cup off the top. "Come on, just a little sip. It'll make you feel so much better."

"It's gross. It tastes like… my dad's feet smell after he takes off his boots when he's done shoveling the snow."

A grin twists onto Regina's lips as Henry giggles beside her, and Roland's lips press together.

"It will help though," Henry insists. "That's what I take when I'm sick." Roland eyes shift from the bottle in Regina's hands to Henry. "Honestly, it'll make you feel better in no time."

"Really?"

"Really…"

"Just a little bit," Regina adds as she pours the medicine into the little cup. "Look that's not a lot at all."

"Nope," Henry says shaking his head, "And if you swallow fast, you'll barely taste it." Roland blinks and slowly reaches out for the cup. Regina watches as he looks down at the thick red liquid—and she can almost see Roland considering dumping it into the sink. "Plug your nose," Henry suggests. "That helps, too."

"It does?"

"Yup," Henry says with a confident nod. "Here, I'll help." Roland takes a breath as Henry pinches his nose closed. "And I'll count to three." Then on three, Roland tips back his head and downs the medicine. "See! Not so bad, right?"

Roland's nose scrunches, but he shakes his head—and Regina laughs as she lifts him from the counter. His legs wrap around her and his head falls to her shoulder. "How about some soup?"

"Is it ready?"

"It should be," Regina says, nodding toward the pot on the stove. "Why don't you check?"

Henry nods and lifts the lid on the pot, and as he does, there's a jingling at the front door—and a moment later, Robin steps into the house. A smile pulls onto her lips as he stops at the threshold of the kitchen and looks between the three of them, then his eyes slowly linger from her shoulders to her feet and back again.

"Hey…"

"Hi," he murmurs as he steps into the kitchen, leaning in and pressing a kiss to her cheek as his hand rubs over his son's back. "I see you found the magic pajamas even though I forgot to tell you about them."

"Yes," she nods. "Roland… may have insisted on them."

"And I didn't puke on them," Roland tells him—and Regina laughs as Robin's eyes widen. "But I did puke on Regina."

"I… am so sorry," Robin says as his eyes sink closed.

"Its fine," she tells him in a sincere voice as her hand rubs over Roland's back. "Besides… as it turns our… your sweatpants are much more comfortable than the pencil skirt I was wearing… much more conducive to giving baths and doing laundry and making dinner."

Again, Robin grimaces and she laughs. "Can I… help with something?" He asks as his eyes open. "Can I take him or… help with dinner or…"

"I've got him," Regina says, "But if Henry gives it the green light, you could pour us all some soup and maybe bring the bread over into the living room?" She grins. "I figured, since Roland's sick… eating in the living room would be acceptable."

"It's generally acceptable," Robin says with a soft chuckle behind his words.

"Yeah," Roland says as he lifts his head from her shoulder. "We only ever eat at the table when you and Henry are here."

"Thanks, son," Robin sighs as he presses a kiss to his cheek and joins Henry at the stove.

The four of them eat dinner around the coffee table—and the whole time, Roland clutches to Regina. He burrows back into her and nuzzles his cheek to her shoulder, and when dinner's done, he turns in her lap and cuddles closer as she pulls a blanket up around them. Robin laughs and quips about how he's been replaced—and though Regina gives him an apologetic little grin, she can't help but notice the way Robin looks at her as Roland cuddles in her lap—and she'd be lying if she said she didn't enjoy any of it.

They watch a movie of Roland's choosing—ironically, he chooses the Disney version of Robin Hood. She shifts uncomfortably at the selection, but says nothing—and her nerves quickly diminish as she hears Robin scoffing at the obvious liberties that were taken with his story. Henry doesn't seem to notice any of it—and she remembers the night in her New York hotel room that they watched this movie, and she remembers that it's one of his favorites. After awhile, she feels Robin's foot rubbing at her ankle, and any feelings of discomfort begin to fade away. A smile pulls onto her lips as she looks up at him—and by the time the movie's over, Roland is asleep again.

"I should put him to bed," Robin murmurs as he reaches for his son.

"Yeah, it's… getting late."

"It's seven thirty," Henry says, arching his eyebrows as he looks between them.

"That's… getting late."

"You two should stay," Robin says as he lifts Roland into his arms. "I know Roland's sick, but… my couch pulls out into a bed, so Henry could sleep there… and the boys don't have school tomorrow and now that inventory's over, I don't plan on going back into my store for a few days and… the three of us could watch another movie or play a game or… something." He sighs. "I'm just not ready for you two to leave… and you're already in pajamas, so…"

Regina watches as Henry presses his lips together to stop himself from giggling—and she nods. "I guess we could stay."

"Who's staying?" Roland murmurs as he lifts his had from Robin's shoulder.

"Regina and Henry."

"Good," Roland says in groggy, yet decisive voice. "I'm glad she's not mad that I threw up on her."

This time, Henry laughs out and a smirk forms on Robin's lips as he carries Roland to his room—and once they've disappeared down the hallway, Regina tugs Henry over to her.

"Are you okay staying?"

"Of course."

"Because if you're not…"

"Mom," Henry cuts in, as he flops down onto the couch beside her. "I want to stay."

"You're positive?"

"Mom," he says in a very serious voice. "We've talked about this."

"I know. I just want to be sure." Henry giggles as he settles back onto the couch beside her. "You know, I really appreciated all of your help today."

"You're the one who did all of the work…" A grin pulls onto his lips and a squeaky giggle escapes him. "And the one who got puked on."

"Hey," she says, poking her fingers at his side. "You weren't supposed to laugh."

"It was funny!"

"It was not!"

"Yes, it was," he laughs out, as she grabs his sides, tickling him until he's breathlessly squirming and laughing uncontrollably. "It was! It was really funny!"

Regina stops tickling as Henry falls into her lap and an easy grin pulls onto her lips. "Okay. Maybe it was a little bit funny… but just a little bit."

"A lot."

"Maybe." Leaning down, she presses a kiss to his hair just before he rolls over and looks up at her. "You should have seen your face."

"Did I look horrified?"

"Yup."

"Did I look like I wanted to throw up, too?"

"Oh, yeah."

She grimaces a little. "And did… Roland notice any of that?"

"Not a chance."

"Good."

"So, is it okay to laugh about it now?" Regina sighs and rolls eyes, but nods—and once more, a little giggle escapes him. "Because it was really funny."

Her head falls back against the back of the couch and from the corner of her eye she can see Robin standing at the end of the hall, watching them. A slight grin pulls onto her lips and his smile brightens—and he has on that same look he wore when he came home to find her with the boys in the kitchen. He lingers for a moment, then pushes into the room and joins them on the couch.

"Thanks for cleaning Roland's room," Robin says as he picks up Henry's legs, then drops them back down onto his lap.

"How do you know it was me?"

"Well, your mom was busy taking care of Roland and… even if he weren't sick, Roland would never even think about cleaning his room unless I told him to clean his room… forty-seven times."

A smirk forms on Regina's lips. "So, uh, does Roland do his own laundry?"

"No, I do…"

"Hm, seems like this is an inherited trait then," Regina murmurs as her eyebrows arch and Henry giggles.

"We're bachelors. We don't… fold clothes or use dryer softeners or…"

"But those make your clothes so soft," Henry says as he sits up and his eyes widen. "Why wouldn't you use them?"

Regina laughs as Robin blinks. "Well, then… I… guess I'll have to try them." Henry settles between them. "So, laundry aside, what do you want to do? Play a game? Watch another movie? Do some math?"

"Not math!" Henry declares in a serious voice as he wiggles out from between them. "A movie would be good."

"Okay. You pick."

"Okay," he says with an easy nod as he goes to the DVD player and ejects the DVD, then carefully places it back into its case—and for a moment, he just stares down at the cover. Regina watches as his brow furrows and his lip catches between his teeth, and before she can ask, he suddenly looks over at them. "Was Robin Hood real?"

Her stomach drops as the question fall off his lips and she feels a tightening in her chest. "Wh-what?"

"Robin Hood, was he real?"

"Why… um, would you think that?" She manages to ask, her mouth suddenly dry and her voice hoarse.

Henry looks down at the DVD case and his brow again creases. "Well, sometimes these movies are based on real people," he says as he looks back to them. "Like Pocahontas."

Suddenly, Regina feels her chest and throat tighten, completely caught off guard by Henry's seemingly simple question. Her head is spinning with possible responses, but she can't seem to find the right words—and even if she knew how she wanted to answer the question, even if she wanted to take the opportunity Henry had unwittingly tossed her way, she can't find it in herself to push out the words. His head tips to the side and she can tell he's confused by her lack of response—but when she tries again to reply, she can't. He glances to Robin and then back to her, and still, she can't formulate a response.

"Yes," Robin says, his voice cutting into the silence and diverting Henry's attention to him. "Robin Hood was a real person." Regina swallows hard as she looks to Robin and she watches a smile tug up at the corners of his mouth. "But… I will say, I don't think the movie we just watched is all that accurate."

"Like Pocahontas's story."

"Yes," Robin says again. "I mean, the basics were there—Robin Hood had his band of Merry Men and they were considered outlaws. He was a known thief who stole from the richest of the rich to give to the poor, and he did fall in love with a beautiful maiden named Marian. But the rest of the story was… mostly a fabrication and some pretty big pieces were missing."

Henry chews at his lip for a moment. "That's pretty cool, though. I mean, even if the details have gotten messed up… that a regular person could become a legend like that."

"Yeah," Robin nods. "I think I agree." Beneath the blanket, Regina feels Robin's hand form loosely around hers. "But I also think our lives aren't just one story. Sometimes we're the hero, but sometimes we're the villain. Sometimes heroes become villains and sometimes villains become heroes. People aren't black and white and conflicts aren't as simple as good versus bad. It's all much more complex than movies suggests."

Regina feels her jaw tightening as she watches Henry considering Robin's words. He slowly nods as he looks back to the DVD case and then back to Robin. "That makes sense," he decides. "And I still think it's pretty cool to be immortalized like that… even if the details are all wrong."

"I think so, too," Robin says, as he gives Regina's hand a tight squeeze. Finally, she looks away from Henry and back to Robin, finding his eyes soft and sincere. She offers him a little grin, and then she looks back to Henry, watching as he puts the Robin Hood DVD back on the shelf before scanning its contents to select another.

Regina wakes with a start. Her eyes flutter open and her head lifts from the pillow—and though Robin's bedroom is dark and still, it's such a contrast to the fast-paced beating of her heart. Swallowing hard, she takes a breath, looking around as she tries to remember what she'd been dreaming of—but harder she tries to remember, the further it slips away, only leaving a discontented feeling at her core. For a moment, she considers trying to go back to sleep, taking a few long deep breathes before laying back against her pillow. Turning to look at Robin, a soft grin pulls onto her lips. His arm is outstretched, his fingers nearly touching her hip and his head is turned in the opposite direction. His mouth is gaping open and his breathing is loud, but rhythmic—and she can't help but think that in this moment how much he reminds her of Roland.

Leaning over, she brushes a barely-there kiss to his stubbly cheek and then she pushes away the blankets. Shivering, she gets out of bed and pads into the hallway—and her smile returns at the sight of Henry.

"Hey," she murmurs in a hushed voice. "What are you doing up?

"I couldn't sleep," he says, shrugging his shoulders and closing a leather-bound book in his lap. "How about you?"

"Same." Her smile warms as she slips onto the pull-out sofa bed and wraps her arm around his shoulders. "So, I thought that instead of waking up Robin I'd… come out here and find a way to entertain myself or lull myself back to sleep."

Henry nods. "I'm looking at an old photo album."

"Yeah?"

Henry opens the book on his lap and a grin tugs onto his lips. "From when Roland was a baby."

"Oh," Regina murmurs as she looks down at a photograph of Robin holding Roland. His eyes are puffy yet drawn from lack of sleep, and there's a burp cloth draped over his shoulder. Roland is looking up at him bright eyes as his little fingers reach up and touch his chin— and as sweet as the captured moment is, it's a lie. For a few minutes, Henry doesn't say anything—instead, he stares down at the image, trailing his fingers over the edge. She watches him, his jaw trembling slightly as his shoulders tense, and her chest clenches. "Henry, why didn't you wake me up?"

"You were sleeping," he says with a shrug of his shoulders. "I didn't want to wake you."

"Somehow, I don't believe you."

Henry blinks as he turns to look up at her. "I didn't have a nightmare. I just… couldn't sleep."

Nodding, she takes a breath. "You sure?" Henry's eyes fall away from hers and he looks back at the photograph, hesitating. "Henry, you can tell me anything."

"Even if it hurts your feelings?"

Her heart clenches and she feels her head tip to the side. "Yes," she says easily. "Even if you think it'll hurt my feelings."

Henry nods and takes a breath, then shifts his eyes up to her. "I love you, you know that, right? You know that I really love the life you've given me and how glad I am that you're my mom now?"

"Of course I do."

"Okay…" Henry says, nodding as he takes in another short breath. "You're sure?"

"Positive."

"When we were watching the second movie… and at the beginning when the lady puts her baby in the basket and sends him down the river… I just… I started to think about… about… my birth mother."

"I see…"

"Everyone always said she was young and not ready to be a mom, but…" He shrugs as his eyes fall away from hers. "I don't know that for sure… and I just… I wonder if she ever thinks about me."

"Oh," she murmurs, her breath catching her chest. "I can't speak for her, but I know that… I did." A small but sad smile forms on his lips and he nods. "Do you… think about her a lot?"

"Sometimes."

"It's okay, if you do…"

"I just… wonder sometimes." He shrugs as he looks back to her. "I just wonder… what she's like and… if I'm like her and… if she's happier now or…" Henry's voice trails off as a knot forms in Regina's stomach. "When I was in New York, especially after I ran away, I wondered if… if I'd ever seen her. You know, like, had she walked by me or did I see her in a store or at the library or… something."

"You wanted her to find you."

Henry hesitates and he looks away. "A little."

"That's okay, Henry," she says, the knot her stomaching tightening. "It's okay that you think about her and that you wonder about her and… even if you… wanted her to be a part of your life."

"I have a closed adoption though."

"That's true…"

"I don't want to go and live with her or anything—not anymore," he says quickly as he looks back at her. "And I'm glad that you found me instead of her and I…"

"Henry," she says, cutting in a small but reassuring smile stretches across her lips. "I think it's… only natural that you'd wonder about her." For a moment, she takes a breath in an effort to build up her course and resolve, letting her eyes sink closed as she remembers when she'd first wanted to adopt Henry and she'd hired a private investigator to track down his birthmother. She'd been curious about her, but she'd also wondered about her medical history and habits, traits that she might have genetically passed on to her son. At the time, she'd had a million reasons for wanting the information—a million valid reasons—but she can't help but think, the real reason was one she couldn't possibly have known of then, and then real reason was yet another opportunity to break her curse. "What if I told you that… I know who your birthmother is? What if I had her name and her phone number?"

"What?" He asks, his eyes widening as he looks up at her. "How? My adoption was closed and that means…"

"I know what it means," she interjects quickly. "Before I adopted you—before the first time I was going to—I had someone track her down. I was… just curious." She watches Henry swallow, his Adam's apple bobbing as his jaw beings to tremble. "It was eight years ago, so I don't know if the number I have is still valid… and I don't know if she'd want to but… I could always call her and see if… if she wanted to… meet you… or talk to you or… something." Swallowing hard, she can feel a tremor beginning in her hands—but as nervous as she is, the knot in her stomach begins to loosen. "That way… you'd know and you wouldn't have to wonder anymore."

"Oh," he breathes out, his bottom lip catching between his teeth. "I… I didn't think that was possible."

"You… don't have to decide now. You can think about it."

Henry nods. "And you… won't be mad if… I… want to meet her?"

"I won't be mad." A small grin pulls up at the corners of her mouth and she feels a surge of confidence. "Especially if it gives you some peace of mind," she tells him, watching as he chews at his lip. Reaching out, she gives his arm a little squeeze. "And… if she doesn't want to… then… we'll go from there."

"It's weird," he says, finally looking back to her. "I've thought about this for my whole life and now that it's possible… I don't know if I want to do it."

"Are you scared?"

"Maybe…"

"Like I said, you don't need to decide now."

"And you're sure you won't be mad?" He asks again. "You're absolutely positive…"

"I am absolutely positive and one hundred percent sure that I won't be mad if you want to meet her." She smiles again as Henry nods, still considering as her hand rubs over his arm. "You being curious about the woman who gave birth to you has… nothing to do with our relationship."

"Yeah," Henry agrees with a little nod. "You're still my mom, no matter what."

"No matter what," Regina repeats, leaning in to rest her forehead against Henry's. "You're stuck with me." Henry giggles as she pulls him close against her chest, combing her fingers though his hair as he nuzzles closer. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Do you think it'd be helpful to… talk to someone about this? Someone who could help you work out your feelings about this… someone who's not me, maybe?"

Henry lifts his head as he pulls back. "Like a shrink?"

"A therapist…"

"You think I need a shrink?" He asks, his eyes widening as panic seeps into his voice. "You think I'm…"

"Henry," she says, quick to cut in and quick to try to soothe him. "There's a doctor who has an office down the street from City Hall. I've gone to him a few times over the years and… it helps." She shrugs as she rubs her hand gently against his back. "I'll let this be your decision, but… it could help to work through some of your feelings about this with someone who… wouldn't be affected by it."

"So, it'd be… just to talk about… this one thing."

"Just this one thing…"

"Can I… think about this, too?"

"Yeah, of course you can."

Henry nods and cuddles back into her, and she pulls the blanket up around them. She rubs his back and rests her cheek atop his head, lost in thought about the possibility of bringing Henry' birthmother into his life—even if just on a temporary basis—and she wonders if it's really what's best for him or if she's encouraging it because she knows his birthmother's identity and the importance she plays in breaking the curse. And then, as she feels Henry's breathing steady, she wonders if she was completely truthful with him and she wonders if she can handle it.

Her head lifts as she hears footsteps coming from the hallway—and when she looks up, she sees Robin coming into the living room. Without saying anything, he stretches an arm around her and presses a kiss to her temple; and for a while, he just sits with them.

"How much of that did you hear?"

"Quite a bit," he admits in a hushed voice.

"And what do you think?"

"Well," he begins tentatively as he presses another kiss to his hair. "It's… certainly a complicated situation."

"It is," she agrees, "And it's made much more complicated by the fact that Henry's birth mother is the savior."

"The savior," he repeats. "As in…"

"As in the person who is destined to break my curse," she finishes with a nod. "That's my son's birthmother."

"Oh… that… does complicate things."

"Yeah," she breathes out as her eyes sink closed. "It does."

"Whatever happens," Robin begins after a second or two passes. "Just remember that while his birthmother might be the savior, you will always be his savior." Regina nods and nuzzles her cheek against Henry's head—and she hopes that when all is said and done, regardless of what happens with Emma Swan and the Dark Curse, Henry still feels that way about her because losing him again is the one fate she'd never be able to endure.