It was a typical Tuesday. Regina had picked up Henry from school after tutoring, and they'd gone to the grocery store. He helped her pick out the things on her list—running excitedly down the aisles in a way that always humored her and standing on the back of the cart as she wheeled him to the next item. And when they got home, they started preparing for dinner, waiting for Robin and Roland to arrive.
They chatted about the day. Henry told her all about a game of Red Rover that was played at recess and how he'd enjoyed the roast beef sandwich she'd made him for lunch and how one of his friends offered to trade a pizza Lunchable for it—something she'd come to know was pure gold in the third grade world. But when she'd asked about school itself, he'd sighed and shook his head, and he told her he didn't want to talk about it just then. She pressed further and he offered her a lopsided little grin and ensured her everything was fine as he shifted uncomfortably—and before she could ask again, there was a light knock at the door.
Once Roland and Robin arrived—with overnight bags in hand—everyone's attention shifted to dinner. Roland was hungry and Robin brought a cake, and Henry was all too happy to help him frost it. And when dinner was ready, the boys set the table as Robin and Regina plated the food—and then it was time for clean-up and desert.
Robin cut slices of cake for the boys as Regina started to rinse the dishes and load them into the dishwasher, and once they were happily enjoying their cake, he turned to the sink to help her. She grinned as his hip knocked against hers, gently pushing her away from the sink, and taking over the rinsing so that she could focus on loading—and when he picked up a particularly grimy pan that would take more than a light rise to clean off, she looked back over her shoulder at the boys, still enjoying their cake.
"You never told me what happened at school today," Regina says as her eyes focus on Henry and Robin reaches for a scrub brush. "You said we'd talk about it later, but… we haven't."
Henry sighs as he looks up from his slice of cake and his eyes roll. "We started something new in Language Arts today."
"But that's your favorite subject…"
Henry nods and sighs again—and this time his eyes roll, earning a soft chuckle from Robin. "Ms. Blanchard is making us do a unit on fairy tales," he says as Regina's eyes slide to Robin and his to her. "It's going to be all… stupid princess and royal balls and gross kisses at midnight."
Regina feels her stomach clench as her jaw tightens. "Well, not… all fairy tales are like that."
"No," Robin interjects. "There are stories of dragons and ogres and…"
Henry's arms fold skeptically over his chest. "Not the ones Ms. Blanchard will pick," he tells them. "You should have seen her. She was all starry eyed and…" Instinctively, Regina's eyes roll—she knows the exact look he's talk about. "…and she told us today that we're going to have a cotillion."
"That's so cool," Roland cuts in, his mouth full of cake. "I wish my class was getting one."
Henry's eyes narrow as he turned his attention to Roland. "What?"
"It'd be so cool to have one as a class pet!"
Henry blinks and in spite of her churning stomach, she feels a giggle bubbling in her chest. "I… don't think you know what a cotillion is."
"Yes, I do," Roland says, looking between them all. "It's like a lizard that changes colors and stuff."
Robin laughs out. "That's a chameleon, Roland, not a cotillion. A cotillion is like a… dance."
"Like the chicken dance?"
"No," Robin says, still laughing as he shakes his head. "Like… a ball. Like the one in Cinderella."
"Oh," Roland murmurs as Henry sighs. "Ewww."
"Maybe it… won't be so bad," Regina says, reaching for the dishwasher soap as she takes a breath and looks to Henry. "This might be like the Thanksgiving Play. You didn't think you'd have fun at that, and… then you did."
"I… don't think so," he says as he stabs is fork into his cake. "I… have to dance with a girl."
"Ewww," Roland says again as he bites into his cake. "I'm sorry."
Regina turns the dial on the dishwasher and then wipes her hands on one of the cloths as Robin leans forward, placing his elbows beside Henry's cake. "Which girl?"
"Paige."
"The one who sits at your table?"
Henry nods and his cheeks flush, "Yeah, she's really nice… and pretty."
"Then why don't you want to dance with her?"
"Because," he sighs, his brow creasing as Regina's finger dips into the frosting of his cake and Roland giggles. "I… don't know how to dance. She takes ballet classes. I'm going to look like an idiot."
Before she can assure him that he'll likely learn at school and that Paige probably doesn't know how to do this particular dance either, a smile stretches across Robin's lips. "Well, it's a good thing that I do." He offers Regina a wink as he pulls Henry off his stool. "I'll teach you."
"Now?" Henry asks with wide eyes as he reaches for his cake. "Don't you have to… I don't know… wait an hour after eating or something?"
"That's swimming," Robin laughs as he reaches for Roland. "Come on…"
Regina follows watches as the boys stand in the center of her living room and Robin pushes aside the furniture, looking doubtfully between each other. She leans against the frame of the doorway, the knot in her stomach loosening as Robin moves to the stereo and selects something to play.
"This sounds like the music at the dentist," Roland mutters, scrunching his nose as he looks to Henry, who only shrugs.
"Turn toward each other," Robin tells them—and she watches the boys exchange glances.
"I… don't see why I have to learn to dance," Roland says. "I'm not the one having a chameleon."
"Cotillion."
"Whatever."
"Roland's not a girl, anyway," Henry says slowly, as he between Roland and Robin. "I need to know how to dance with a girl. It's… different."
Robin sighs as his eyes shift to Regina, and she watches as a warm grin pulls onto his lips. "Your mom's a girl. Would you dance with her?"
"I'd even dance with her," Roland says as he flops back onto the couch.
Henry giggles a bit and nods, and he turns to watch Regina come into the room. "I'm… not very good at this," she tells them. "It's been… a very long time since I've danced with anyone and I'm not sure that I remember how."
"It just so happens I am a very good teacher."
"That's true," Henry says with a nod. "He did the impossible. He taught me long division."
"He also taught me how to shoot an arrow without hurting anyone," Roland adds.
Regina laughs as her hands slide over Henry's shoulders, giving them a little squeeze. "Okay, teach away."
She grins down at Henry as he looks to Robin. "So, the first thing, you don't want to get too close," he says. "My mother used to tell me there should be enough room for her between me and the young lady I was dancing with…"
"Your… mother taught you to dance?" She asks, rhetorically as her heart flutters a little at the thought of Robin as a boy in Sherwood Forest, leaning to dance by standing on his mother's feet and holding onto her apron strings. "That's… so sweet."
"I… hated it then, but those are very fond memories now," he tells her with a wink, before turning his attention back to Henry. "So, take a step back." Henry does as he's told and then looks between them, as Robin nods. "Good, now hold out your left arm," he says, his eyes sliding to Regina. "You, too."
"Oh… right," she murmurs as she presses her hand to Henry's and her fingers lace down through his. "And my other hand goes around his shoulder…"
"Yes, exactly." Henry grins a little awkwardly as he blinks up at her, and Robin situates his other hand on her waist. "Now, you have to act as a guide."
"But I don't know what I'm doing."
"Step forward, and you…"
"Step back," Regina injects with a grin. "I remember."
"Good," Robin says, watching as Henry steps. "Now left…" Henry giggles and looks down at his feet. "And back, the right and…" Robin laughs a little as Henry concentrates on his feet. "You're doing great, now… again. Forward, left, back and right… there you go."
Henry smiles up at her—and she finds him unexpectedly bright-eyed, and for that moment, it's so easy to get lost in his happy smile.
Regina falls asleep easily—Robin is breathing rhythmically at her side, and down the hall Henry and Roland are tucked in. As she drifts to sleep, thinks of Henry's giggle as they slowly moved around the carpet—and in spite of everything looming, she's glad that the most troubling thing in his day was worrying about impressing a little girl in his class.
Her eyes flutter open and she squints, feeling a rush of cool air—and when her eyes adjust to the dark, she's no longer in her bedroom. Swallowing hard, she looks around in search of Robin, but he's not there with her—and she can't help but think that has to be a mistake. She takes a few steps forward, and it's only then that she feels the weight of whatever it is that she's wearing—and her hands begin to explore, feeling over the thick, scratchy tulle of a full skirt.
It doesn't make sense—none of it makes sense—and she feels a sense of panic seeping in. She looks around wildly in search of someone—and she takes another step—and then her foot touches to something firm. Letting out a shaky breath, she presses her eyes closed—and when they open again, her breath catches in her throat, and she takes in the carnage.
There are bodies everywhere—bloody and lifeless—and smoldering flames in the distance. There's not a sound to be heard outside of herself—the fast-paced thumping of her heart and the little whimpers that escape her as she makes her way through what seems like a sea of lifeless bodies. Tears fill her eyes as she realizes what she's done—and then she hears a rustling.
Spinning in the direction of the noise, her eyes search the darkness, looking for some sign of life, some glimmer of hope. She moves toward the sound, still not seeing anything or anyone, and she pray to any higher being that might be listening—but for what, she doesn't know.
"Don't hurt me," says a familiar little, distant voice. "Please."
Her heart sinks as she turns her head sharply—and a few feet away from her, she sees a terrified little boy, staring back at her with tears shimmering in his hazel eyes.
"Henry!" She calls, reaching out into the darkness for a boy who isn't actually there. Her heart races as she looks around the bedroom, watching the way the moonlight streams in through the window and illuminates a patch of carpet. Taking a deep breath, she feels tears flood her eyes, haunted by the fearful way Henry had looked at her. Lying back, she lets out a shaky breath—and then the lamp turns on.
"Hey," Robin murmurs groggily, as he rolls onto his side. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah, I just…"
"Had a nightmare," he supplies as she nods. "Come here." She slides toward him and he rolls onto his back, pulling her down into his chest as his arms wrap around her. He drops a couple of kisses over the top of her head and his hands rub up and down her back. "You're okay," he tells her. "It was just a dream."
"But… it… it wasn't," she admits in a small voice. "It was… a memory."
"Ah…"
"But Henry was there and he… he saw what I'd done and he…"
"Shhh…"
"He was so afraid."
"It's okay," he says again. "Memory or not, it wasn't real."
"But…"
"Shh…" He murmurs as his hand slips to the small of her back. "It's over now." He presses a kiss to her hair, and holds her for a minute or two. Her eyes close and she listens to the soft beat of his heart—and there's something so soothing about having him so near. "Per Henry's instructions, I am supposed to take you down to the kitchen and warm up some milk and honey."
"That is how we generally treat nightmares around here," she murmurs quietly. "But, you don't have to…"
"If it'll make you feel better, I will."
A small smile edges onto her lips as she tips her head up. "This is making me feel better."
He presses a kiss to her forehead. "How, um… how of often does this happen?"
"I… don't know," she lies, not wanting to admit that she barely remembers the last time she had more than one full night's rest. "Occasionally."
"Once, twice? Nightly?"
She blinks and looks away, pressing her head back to his chest to listen to his heart beat. "Something like that…"
"And… what do you do?"
"Try to go back to sleep," she admits quietly. "Sometimes Henry's up—that's when we have milk and talk—but mostly, I just try to go back to sleep."
"Does that work?"
"No."
He sighs and hugs her a little tighter. "Call me."
"What?"
"The next time this happens, if I'm not here, I want you to call me."
Lifting her head, she rests her chin on his chest. "I can't do that. I can't just wake you up every…"
"I want you to," he cuts in. "You… shouldn't have to suffer in silence." He grins a little and combs his fingers through her hair, tucking it behind her ear. "I love you. I want to help."
"I love you, too," she murmurs, "But… I just…"
"Let me help." With a sigh, she nods and lies back down against him. "Do you… want to talk about it?"
"No."
"Okay," he says. "Do you want to go back to sleep?"
"No."
"Do you want to talk about… something else?"
"Sure," she breathes out, pressing her eyes closed. "Talk about something."
"Okay," he begins in a tentative voice—and then she feels a chuckle rumbling in his chest. "We could talk about the birthday you had last week that you didn't tell anyone about." Her head lifts and her eyes widen—she didn't know that he knew—and before she can ask, a grin tugs up from the corners of his mouth. "I read your story, remember? And, I took notes."
"You… took notes."
"Yes," he says with a nod, "Because as much as I love and trust you, I've come to realize that when it comes to information about yourself, you are often an unreliable courier of information."
"I… am not."
"You never give yourself the benefit of the doubt, you always see just the bad and you always ignore the good…" She lifts his head to protest, but his finger presses to her lips. "All I'm saying is that you're hard on yourself." He grins. "Though it would have been nice to spoil you for day, I… think I understand why you didn't want to celebrate."
"It wasn't so much that I didn't want to, I just… after all these years of living under the curse, things like birthdays stopped mattering." Robin nods and she sighs a little. "But I have to admit, even though no one knew, I had a pretty fantastic birthday this year."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," she says as a small grin creeps onto her lips. "You and Roland were over for dinner and we had apple pie, and… I got to pick the movie… and…" she laughs a little, "I couldn't have asked for better birthday."
"I'm glad," he murmurs as he leans in and presses a kiss to her forehead. "And I suppose I could find another day to spoil you… perhaps on Valentine's Day?" Her eyes widen a little. "Is it okay that I made reservations?"
"Oh, I… I don't know that I want to leave…"
"I made lunch reservations," he cuts in to clarify. "I was thinking that since it's a Friday and I don't have to tutor, we could both take the afternoon off and celebrate together, and then we could pick up the boys and celebrate with them after school." His grin brightens. "We could make heart shaped pasta and caprice salad and… decorate sugar cookies with them and…" His voice trails off. "What do you think?"
"I… think that sounds perfect."
"Then, it's a date."
"It's a date," she says, as she inhales a long breath, then slowly exhales it as she cuddles back into him. "Robin," she asks after a few minutes. "Can you… keep talking?"
"Yeah, of course," he replies without questioning it, "Whatever you want."
Closing her eyes, she takes long breaths, slowly releasing them as she listens. His voice is soothing and his touches methodical, and she can't help but feel comforted—and there's something so freeing in that. For so long, she'd considered the nightmares that tormented her night after night to be her penance; they were the price she paid for her sins—and thought she didn't necessarily disagree with that, the temptation of Robin's comfort was too great, and she was too weak to resist it.
His words bled together as her eyes grew tired, and felt herself drifting back to sleep, no longer feeling guilty or afraid. She felt Robin's hand stop as he pulled himself up a little and her eyes fluttered, just as the door pushed open.
"Mom?"
"Henry," she murmurs, pulling herself up.
"I saw the light on and…" he fidgets in the door way as he looks between her and Robin. "And I couldn't sleep."
"Oh," she breathes out. "Do you want to talk about it?" He shakes his head and before she can say anything else, Robin pulls back the covers and pats the bed. Henry hesitates for a moment, chewing at his bottom lip as a warm smile stretches onto Robin's lips. She looks from Henry to Robin, then back again, watching as Henry takes a tentative step forward. She slides away from Robin as he reaches for Henry, lifting him into the bed and settling him in the center. Immediately, Regina's arms wrap around him and he cuddles into her. "You're sure you don't want to talk about it?"
"Positive," he says in a decisive voice as he cuddles closer. "Can I sleep in here?"
"Of course…" Regina murmurs glancing over the top of Henry's head and grinning appreciatively at Robin, who offers her a wink before rolling over and turning off the lamp.
Her cheek rests atop Henry's head and she traces circles against his flannel clad back—and finally, she feels his breathing even out, and finally, she can close her eyes—then, just as she does, the door creeks open again.
"Why is everyone in here?" Roland asks as he walks to the center of the bed.
Robin sighs, then laughs; and once again, he peels back the covers and pats the bed—but before he can lift Roland, Roland jumps onto the bed, and neither she nor Robin can keep themselves from laughing.
She's lost track of the hours she's spent in Archie's office—hours waiting and in session, hours pacing in front of his office building, hours wondering just how much she could reveal without sounding too crazy, even for a psychiatrist. Though, in spite of never being truly honest with him in their sessions—never revealing the source of her nightmares or the sordid past that plagued her even in her waking hours—they'd helped.
And she reminded herself of that every time she sat in Archie's waiting room, waiting for Henry.
Finally the door opened and Archie led Henry out, and they both offered her a little smile—and she felt a small pang of guilt as she smiled back and held out her hand to her son. He took it easily, his little fingers folding around her palm as Archie waved goodbye, and chattered on about his session, not really telling her much and focusing on irrelevant details—and not at all aware that the next morning, she'd be back in Archie office to go over his notes, just as she had after each of his sessions. In some ways, that felt like a betrayal of trust—Henry believed that his sessions were private, that what he told Archie stayed between the two of them—but she was far too concerned to be kept out of the loop; and, as she often reminded herself, these Thursday morning meetings had been Archie's suggestion, not hers.
"So," she cuts in as they step outside, "What do you want to do for dinner?"
"I'm starving," he tells her, as he pulls his hat down around his ears. "I'll eat anything."
"I'm pretty hungry too," she replies, casting her eyes down Main Street. "Do you want Granny's? We have…"
"I always want Granny's," he interjects, offering her a wide grin. "Can I get a milkshake?"
"Sure…"
Henry swings their hands back and forth as they walk toward the diner, and he fills in her on everything that happened in his day. He tells her about the Valentine's art project they got to do—explaining that he chose to paint his hearts green because he chose a black background, and decided that meant they were alien hearts—and then he seamlessly transitions into other stories. He tells about a spelling test that he got an A on, and he tells her about the kickball game they played in gym—and heart beat skips when informs that he didn't cry when he skinned his knee.
When they get to the diner, he runs ahead of her, claiming a booth in front of the window. Ruby hands her two menus and sets two glasses of water down on the table, letting them know she'll be back in a few minutes to take their order.
"Did… anything else happen at school?" She asks, handing him a menu, not want to ask directly about the fairy tale unit his class was supposed to start—and she hadn't quite made up her mind about how she felt about it. "Maybe something you… weren't really looking forward to?"
Henry blinks a few times as he considers—and then his eyes light up. "Oh, yeah!" He exclaims as he turns away from her and reaches into his backpack. "I got my math test back today," he says, turning back to her and handing her a folded piece of paper, that slowly takes from him. "Look."
She watches him as she unfolds the paper, and then, her eyes cast down—and immediately, her breath hitches in her throat. At the top of the test next to his name, in pink glittery ink is an 80%, with a smiley face in the center of the zero. There's a sticker on the page with a little note—also written in pink glitter—and the note is full of compliments and praise. Taking a breath, she reads it a second time—and no matter what history she and Snow White have, she'll never be able to thank her enough for caring about Henry the way that she does.
"I got a Batman sticker," he says, almost shyly.
"I see that," she replies, taking a breath and laughing a little as she fights back proud tears. "This is going on the refrigerator when we get home."
Henry giggles. "Is there room?"
"We'll make room."
He giggles again as Ruby come back to the table, a pen and notepad in hand, ready to take their order—and Regina laughs as Henry orders a cheeseburger, fries and a milkshake, and then lowers his voice and asks for extra whipped cream. Ruby offers him a wink and tells him she'll see what she can do, and then turns to Regina to take her order.
Henry continues to tell her about his day, all through dinner; and not once, does he make a mention of fairy tales. By the time they're done and the bill is paid, the sky is dark, making it seem much later than it is. Henry takes her hand again, as they walk back to her car at City Hall, swinging it back and forth as he goes on about how excited he is to start The Goblet of Fire—and how he thinks this might be his favorite. She reminds him that he's said that about all of the Harry Potter books, and he just giggles, unconcerned with that particular detail.
As they pass a mailbox, Regina stops and reaches into her purse, carefully drawing out an envelope and concealing the front of it with her gloved hand. She drops it into the mailbox quickly and she's glad when Henry doesn't ask about it as they turn toward the parking lot in front of City Hall.
"Mom?" He asks in a suddenly tentative voice as they reach the car. "I… need to tell you something." Regina blinks, and looks over at him as she unlocks the car, opening his side first. "Dr. Hopper said I should tell you… that… that I made up my mind about what I want to do."
"What you want to do…" she repeats, not quite following. "What do you mean?"
"I… I think I… I want to… meet her," he says as he fumbles with his fingers and focuses his attention at his feet. "I mean, I just… I think…"
"Her," Regina repeats, her stomach suddenly tightening. "You mean your birth mother?"
"Yeah."
"Oh…"
"Is that still okay?" He asks, looking up at her with wide eyes. "Because if it's not then I don't want…"
"No, no, no," she cuts in. "It's still okay."
"You're sure?" A small smile tugs onto her lips, and she nods. "Dr. Hopper thinks that… that it might give me closure."
Regina takes a short breath, and again finds herself nodding. "It might."
"You're not… mad?"
"No," she says, crouching down in front of him. "I'm not mad." Taking his hands in hers, she gives them a squeeze and then presses a kiss to his cheek. "Tomorrow I'll see if I can get in touch with her, okay?" Henry nods, and she can see that he's still unsure. "But, I want you to know that… she might not want to."
"I know," he says. "Dr. Hopper said that, too."
"You have a closed adoption…"
"I know," he says again. "I just… want to try."
"Then we'll try," she tells him simply, leaning in once more to kiss him. "Now, let's go home—with any luck, we can get two chapters in tonight." She offers him a wink as she stands up and her stomach tightens yet again as a small smile edges onto Henry's lips.
She couldn't help the yawn that escaped her as she turned the page of an old leather bound book—a book that made her smile for all the wrong reasons. It seemed like a life time ago Maleficent had given it to her—a gift of encouragement at the beginning of their too-brief love affair, and a book filled with old magic and obscure spells. She remembers the way she poured over the handwritten pages, admiring the way the ink looked on the parchment and the gold-edged pages; and remembering the heartening way Maleficent explained, how they'd practiced and how she'd slowly found herself believing that all the answers could be found in magic.
But eventually, just like their love affair, magic lost a bit of its shiny allure—and she was no longer sure it could be her salvation; and just as she'd realized then, she now realized she'd found yet another dead end and another promising spark extinguished.
Feeling her frustration bubbling up, she took a long, deep breath and pushed the book away—and from the corner of her eye, she catches a glimpse of the little clock in the corner of her computer screen. And a slight smile begins to tug onto her lips.
The night before she and Robin had spent about hour or so on the phone, planning out their Valentine's Day. He'd kept laughing about their lack of spontaneity and she'd kept insisting she found the careful planning he always put into their time together sweet—and admittedly, a bit of a relief.
He'd made reservations at the Chop House a few buildings down from his shop, and they'd agreed to meet there just before noon—and then, she asked if he'd want to go back to her house for a little alone time. She'd barely been able to contain her smile as she asked him—and in his voice, she could almost hear that he was smiling, too. For the first time in her life, she'd bought a matching set of lingerie that was someone else was meant to see—and her smile deepened as she thought of Robin's expression when he saw her in it—and the effect it might have. Then of course, they'd pick up the boys from school and spend the rest of the evening eating heart-shaped pasta for dinner and frosting sugar cookies as a movie that one of the boys picked out played.
And she could hardly wait for any of it.
Rolling her shoulders she got up from behind her desk, stretching out her arms as another yawn escaped her—and once more, she tried to push away her exhaustion. The night before, Henry had gone to bed early with a headache; and then, a few hours later, he awoke breathless and in tears. She'd gotten up with him and crawled into his bed, and they read together for a little while. Eventually, Henry fell asleep, cuddled into her side and stretched out on the small twin bed, and she'd lied beside him, awkwardly formed around him, awake with wandering thoughts—and then suddenly, it was morning.
"Knock, knock," Robin's voice calls as his head pokes into the door and a smile stretches across his lips. "You ready?"
"I… thought I was meeting you at the restaurant," she replies, as her eyes widen in surprise. "We decided…"
"I know, I know," he tells her with a nod. "That was the plan, but.. I thought it'd be nice to walk together."
"Oh…"
"It's nice out today, and…" he chuckles softly as he steps into the office, holding out a long-stem rose. "And I couldn't handle John's pathetic attempts at finding a last-minute date." He shakes his head. "He's resorted on hitting on customers and giving them coupons. They're grateful for the coupons, but… not as grateful for the rest of it."
She laughs a little as she takes the rose, smelling it as her cheeks flush slightly. "Poor John."
"I have something for you…"
Her eyes widen a little. "We agreed no gifts."
"It's… not really a gift, exactly," Robin says as his smile brightens as he draws out a little red box. "It's just… a little something I've been wanting to give you, and… today seemed like a perfect day to finally do it."
"Robin…"
"It's nothing…"
Her eyebrow arches as she lifts off the top—and a smile curls onto her lips. "It's a key."
"It is a key," he says as her eyes cast up to meet his. "It's a key to my house," he tells her as he shifts his weight toward her. "I… also cleared out a drawer, but I… couldn't exactly put that in a box."
"Robin… you didn't…"
"I just… figured we've been spending so much time with each other and…" He shifts again as a chuckle rises into his voice. "I thought this would make it a little easier. You and Henry could keep some things at my place and…"
His voice trails off and her breath hitches in her throat as she leans into the tips of her toes and presses a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she murmurs as she steps back. "It's… very thoughtful and… practical."
"Practical," he repeats, chuckling again as he shakes his head. "Nothing screams romantic like a practical gift." Rolling her eyes, she swats her hand at his chest and he catches it, tugging her to him before kissing her—kissing her long and deep until her head is dizzy. "So how about lunch…"
They walked together to Chop House—and for a while, she'd forgotten how tired she was—and after a heavy lunch of filet mignon and too much red wine—they found themselves back at her house. They'd barely made it up the stairs, standing at the very top. He had her pressed against the wall and fingers threaded through her hair; her heart was beating faster and faster as his hand to the back of her skirt in search of the zipper.
"Wait," she murmurs against his lip, pushing her hand up between them as a wave of dizziness washes over her. "Just… a second."
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah, I just…"
"Regina," he murmurs, ducking down a bit to look her in the eye. "Are you okay?"
"Of course," she replies, blinking a couple of times as she rolls her shoulders. "I'm fine." Taking a step back, his hand falls from her the nape of her neck to her hand, giving her a soft tug toward the bedroom. His arms slides around her waist as she and his lips flutter over her jaw and grin pulls onto her lips. "I am absolutely fine."
"Are you?" Her eyebrow arches as and his grin warms. "When was the last time you got a decent night's sleep?"
She sighs. "Robin, I'm…"
"Exhausted," he interjects. "You looked like you were ready for a nap when I walked into your office and all through lunch, every time you blinked, your eyes stayed closed longer and longer."
"I'm sorry, I…"
"Don't apologize," he says, leaning in and dropping a kiss to her forehead. "But honestly, when was the last time you slept through the night?" Shaking her head, she shrugs—she honestly doesn't remember. "So, how about a little change of plans, hmm?"
"I want to keep the plans we have."
"Another time," he tells her. "In a few hours we're going to have two very excited and candy-fueled little boys to entertain—and, speaking from personal experience, you'll need all the energy you can get for that."
"But I'm…"
"Fine, I know," he says, shaking his head, he presses his finger to her lips. "But, let's take a nap anyway."
"Robin," she says shaking her head—grimacing as she feels her jaw tightening as a yawn begins. "Okay…" Moving around her he reaches for her pajamas, handing them to her as he tugs off his shirt; and with a reluctant sigh, she takes them and pulls her shirt from her skirt, watching as he undoes his belt. "I'm sorry," she murmurs as her skirt drops to her feet and she steps into the cotton pajama shorts. "I…"
"Will give me a rain check," he cuts in with a wink, kicking his pants away. "A rain check I insist on cashing in." A grin pulls onto her lips as she pulls on the tank top and before can say any more, he's reaching for her.
Her guilt is short-lived—and as soon as she lowers herself onto the bed, her head sinks into the pillow and Robin slides in beside her, stretching his arm around her as she cuddles back to him and lets her eyes close, her guilt is gone and she's not sure she's ever felt anything so satisfying.
She couldn't help but laugh as Roland struggled with the plastic packaging of the heart-shaped pasta—a thick, crunchy plastic with a glossy cardboard label stapled at the top—and with every tug, he grunted and grimaced and growled. Despite his struggles, he seemed determined, not asking for help—and judging by the way Robin was biting down on his bottom lip, the show Roland was putting on was far too entertaining to stop by the offering of assistance. Henry giggled as stuck a tooth pick with a little heart topper through a cherry tomato and little ball of mozzarella and Roland dropped the back onto the counter, breathless and annoyed. His eyes turned to Robin, who only shrugged and continued cutting the baguette that would soon be garlic bread.
"Here, sweetie," Regina says, turning away from the boiling pot of water and reaching for the jar of utensils by the stove. "Try this." She hands him a pair of scissors and he grins shyly as he took them from her as he takes them, and she hovers as he cuts off the top of the packaging. His grin broadens and he looks at the label. "I'm going to keep this," he decides.
"The label to the pasta?"
Roland nods as he hands her the bag of pasta and she watches as Robin's eyebrow arches and Henry looks up. "We have to make a collage for school next week," he tells him. "I'm going to put this on there."
"The label to the pasta," Robin says again.
"Yeah," Roland tells them as his finger traces over the edge. "We have to put stuff on it that we like."
"If I had to make one, I'd put superheroes and books on mine," Henry says, as he pokes another toothpick through a tomato and mozzarella ball. "And I'd draw legos."
"So, you're putting the pasta label on yours," Robin repeats as a slight chuckle rises into his voice. "Why?"
"Because," he says, as if it should be obvious. "I like having dinners here."
Regina looks back over her shoulder and her eyes shift quickly from Robin to Roland. "That's sweet," she tells him as she turns away from the stove, letting her hand slide around Roland's shoulders. "We like having you here for dinner, too." Leaning in, she presses a quick kiss to the top of his head—something that's become an increasingly natural thing for her to do. "What else are you going to include?"
Roland goes onto tell them all the other things he's collected—listing them carefully in a slow voice. Her eyes shift from Roland to Robin, whose listening with a little smirk and then to Henry, who reacts to everything with an ooh or nod or some other approving gesture as he continues to stab the toothpicks through the tomato and cheese.
It's odd to her that half of a year before, they were all practically strangers living such separate lives; when she'd brought Henry to Storybrooke, she had certain expectations of what their life together would be like. The curse was an obvious obstacle, but in the back of her head, she'd always assumed it'd be just the two of them—that the rest of the world would go on around them. And then, suddenly, there were these two other people in her lives, people she couldn't shut out—people she didn't want to shut out—and it became difficult to even picture a life without them.
She never anticipated there'd ever be a time in her life she had someone to rely on—someone who was consistently there, someone who consistently wanted to be there—and she'd never anticipated looking toward the future. For so long, she'd been trapped, living a different variation of the same things over and over again—and this was like a breath of fresh air.
And that afternoon had been a reminder of that—as cliché as it was.
Robin woke up her with a trail of fluttering kisses. He started at her shoulder and traveled up her neck to her jaw, letting his lips tail over her cheek to her earlobe—and slowly she'd begun to stir. She felt his hand slide against her stomach, drawing her back against him. His fingers dipped just below the band of her shoulders and his foot rubbed against her ankle—and before she was even awake, she could feel his warmth as a smile tugged onto her lips. Sighing contently, she stretched out her legs and blinked open her eyes, rolling onto her other side to face him. Her smile brightened and the tip of her nose brushed against his—and she couldn't help but laugh out as he pulled her tight against him and rolled them over, so that he could properly kiss her. They stayed in bed together for awhile, trading soft touches for lazy kisses, and everything felt so good and so unassuming; and had they not had to pick up the boys from school, it would have been so easy to spend the rest of the day like that, so relaxed and calm, unworried about all the uncertainty that laid ahead of them.
"Oh, and I made you something," Roland says, his attention turning to her and bringing her back into the present moment. "I almost forgot."
"But you didn't," she says as Robin moves to the stove to check the sauce and Roland hops off his stool, running toward his backpack.
Henry cranes his neck and smiles curiously as he tries to see whatever Roland is pulling from his back pack and her own smile, pulls onto her lips. Stretching an arm around Henry's shoulders, she squeezes him and offers him a little wink as Roland runs back toward them, holding out a flower made from pipe cleaners.
Her breath catches in her throat as she reaches out to accept it, unable to think of anything other than a Valentine's day long ago, a day that only she remembers, when he'd given her the exact same flower—and he'd given her a tiny flicker of hope as he unknowingly turned a terrible evening into one that was worth remembering.
"I made it in school today," he tells her proudly as she nods, unable to find her voice as tears flood her eyes. "I… I didn't mean to make you sad," he murmurs as smile fades. "I'm…"
"Oh, no," she says, suddenly able to speak. "I'm not sad."
"But you're about to cry."
"Yeah," she nods, looking down at the flower as she sinks down in front of him. "But I'm not crying because I'm sad, I'm crying because… I…" she stops, shaking her head—Roland can't possibly know what the flower means to her. He possibly can't know that after she left the diner, she taken the flower home and put in a little vase on the corner of her desk, just as he can't know that possibly know that day after day, long after he'd likely forgotten about it, she found herself looking at the flower and remember how happy that little moment at the diner had made her—and he can't possibly know that it was his sweetness and thoughtfulness that made her wonder if the love of a child could save her. "I love this," she tells him. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Roland tells her with a satisfied smile—and then, only a second later, he becomes distracted by the gush of steam that rushes upward as Robin pour the noodles into a colander to be rinsed, indicating that dinner is almost ready.
And just like that, the little of moment of nostalgia is swept away.
Clearing her throat, she rises to her feet, watching as Henry carries his plate of carefully crafted caprese salad sticks into the dining room and Roland trails behind him. Her eyes shift to Robin as he shoves up his sleeves and almost instinctively, her eyes shift to the tattoo on his forearm. She can hear the boys laughing in the next room and Robin smiles back at her from over her shoulder—and she feels a tightening in her stomach—because for the first time in her life, she has something that would be devastating to lose.
"You okay?"
She looks up and nods, mustering a smile as she pushes toward him and reaches for the garlic bread. He drops a quick kiss on her cheek as he lifts the bowl of pasta—and she takes a breath, reminding herself that she has time and when things are meant to be, they happen when they're supposed to.
Her family was proof of that.
The rest of the night was spent baking, decorating and, of course, eating sugar cookies.
As she and Robin cleaned up the remnants of dinner—rinsing the dishes and putting leftovers into containers—the boys rolled out the cookie dough atop the counter. She couldn't help but feel a little bit of pride bubbling up inside of her as she watched Henry showing Roland how to flour the edges of the cutters so they easily lifted from the dough and kept the shape of the cookie—something she'd taught him the first time they'd baked cookies together—and how he gently pulled Roland back away from the oven before retrieving their tray of cookies, reminding him to let them cool before touching them. Roland nodded and he inhaled a deep breath, taking in the soft fresh-baked cookie scent as Henry arranged their toppings—and finally when they were cool enough to decorate, Henry carefully carried them over to the counter.
Robin's arms wrapped around Regina and she leaned back into him, smiling a little as they watched the boys smear the frosting over the cookies and cover them with sprinkles—and once again she found it a struggle to stay in the moment…
Before she knew it, the cookies were done and the boys created a plate of their favorites. Robin corralled them into the living room and she followed behind them, once more wondering if this, like every other Valentine's, would just fade away as though it never existed.
The boys settle quickly on a movie—an odd choice of Lady and the Tramp, which Roland insists is the perfect movie for Valentine's while Henry shrugs his shoulders agreeably, murmuring something about never having seen it—as Robin fans a blanket down on the floor for them—and just like every other Friday night, the boys camp out in front of the TV while she and Robin settle on the couch.
Taking a shaky breath, she lets her head fall to his shoulder and he presses a kiss to her hair—and absently, her fingers trace over the tattoo on his forearm as she loses herself in thought.
There's a part of her that feels like she's losing her mind—and she's been here before.
Despite the encouragement and support of Robin and her own determination, she's made little progress in breaking the curse. And as February began to wind down and spring loomed in the no longer distant future, she knew that she was running out of time. In the weeks she'd been trying to break the curse, she'd made no progress; she didn't even know if she was on the right path—if she was on a path at all.
When she made the decision to cast the curse all those years before, she'd learned as much as she could about it to prepare herself. It was complicated and nuanced with all sorts of intrinsic little details—and not only had she learned them all, she'd learned how to work them to her advantage. She learned how to use magical relics to create magic where there was none, learning and perfecting the science of potions and the power of energies; and she learned how to levy her power and persuasion in the new realm to which the curse had brought her.
But she'd never learned about breaking it; she hadn't imagined there'd ever be a need.
She knew that there were a series of triggers in place—triggers that could set off a chain of events that led to the curse breaking, but she didn't know how to manipulate them to her advantage. Her small victory in getting Henry to believe in something magical had been short-lived; and while the clock hands still ticked away, signaling the moving of time, that seemed to be very much symbolic. Every day she was reminded to the static world she lived in, and the ticking clock at the center of the town seemed more like a countdown to her inevitable failure.
"I think they're asleep," Robin whispers, nodding toward the boys sprawled out on a blanket.
"They're in a sugar coma," she says, following his gaze. "Maybe we should take them upstairs."
"No," Robin says as his hold on her loosens. "Leave them. They look content."
"They do," she agrees, as a smile tugs up onto her lips as she looks down at them. "I don't know how they're comfortable like that, but…" Her voice trails off and she reaches behind them, tugging a blanket off the back of the couch. She gets up and fans it out over them, kneeling down as she pushes the hair away from Henry's forehead, leaning in to kiss him good night and whisper her love. Instinctively, she does the same to Roland, and when she looks up, Robin's eyes are soft and warm and his hand is outstretched.
He tugs her up and nods towards the stairs, and she flicks on a dim lamp as they pass it, giving them a little bit of light, should either of them wake up. She leads him toward the kitchen, checking to make sure that Henry turned the oven off and the back door is locked—and then, she reaches for Roland's flower. Robin grins as her arm slide around his back and she watches as he sneaks one more look at the boys as they go up the stairs.
"Wait," she murmurs, stopping just in front of her office door. "I… want to put this on my desk." Robin nods and followers her in, and when she turns on the light, she watches his eyes fall to the little vase at the corner of her desk that he's seen before, but never noticed—a vase that holds the first pipe-cleaner flower that Roland gave her, all those years ago.
"When did…"
"A long time ago," she answers, not needing to hear the question to know what he was about to ask. "I was having a rough night and… all of the sudden, there was Roland, giving me a Valentine."
A confused smile edges onto Robin's lips. "Why don't I remember that?"
"You weren't there," she says simply. "John was with him and… up until tonight, that was the only Valentine's Day worth remembering." She shakes her head as she rounds her desk, opening the top drawer. "I know I said that we weren't going to do gifts, but…"
"You didn't," he cuts in, his eyebrow arching. "And you yelled at me when…"
"I didn't yell," she interjects. "I… just reminded you." She holds out a little red bag out to him and shakes it gently. "It's nothing, really."
His eyes narrow and she can't help the quiet chuckle that escapes her as he pulls a sheet of pink tissue paper from the bag—and then, his eyebrows arch as he pulls a toothbrush from the bag. "I… don't know what to say," he murmurs as he looks up at her.
"I didn't have time to make a copy of my key or clean out a drawer, and…" Her voice trails off and she shifts awkwardly as his eyes fall away from her and to the toothbrush. "I… just… it's hard for me to look to the future right now. It's hard for me to imagine that we even have a future because in a few months, if I don't figure out how to break the curse, you're going to forget all about me."
"Regina, I won't…"
"You will," she interjects. "But, I just… I want you to know that when I do think about my future—or the possibility of one—you're always there. You and me and Henry and Roland, we're… all together and…" She shrugs as she releases a breath. "And as hard as it is to think that I might lose you—you and them—because of something I created, I… can't regret doing it because we're here now and that's made it all worth it… regardless of how it turns out."
Robin breathes out and he grins as he twirls the toothbrush between his fingers. "Some things are just… supposed to happen. You and I are one of those things."
She nods as he drops the toothbrush back into the bag, setting it on the edge of her desk as he moves to the stereo, turning the dial until Elivs Presley's softy and low voice fills the room. Robin laughs a little as he extends his hand—and with a sight, she rounds the desk and places her fingers in his palm.
Like a river flows, surely to the sea; darling, so it goes, some things are meant to be…
He pulls her close as his hand closes around hers and her head rests on his shoulder as they begin to sway to the music. She feels her throat tighten and tears brim in her eyes—and she presses them closed, willing herself to stay in the moment and enjoy it for what it is, not wanting to focus on the fragility of the little life they've started to create.
So, take my hand—take my whole life, too; for I can't help falling in love with you…