Here are some family moments to heal the wounds inflicted by the last chapter. Enjoy this one.
As soon as the teenager spots his brunette mother through the glass doors, walking toward his room, he calls out, "Mom."
The brunette woman cannot manage a single word before breaking. She is still feeling the effects of her most recent fight with her son's other mother. She secures her arms around her beloved child, careful to avoid touching his recently set arm. "It's alright, honey," she whispers. "Mommy's here."
Henry is just relieved to rest in the safety of his loving mother's arms again and begins to weep. "I love you, Mom."
The queen hugs her son tighter. "I love you too."
Henry cries, "I'm sorry."
"Shhhhh," his mother soothes. "You did nothing wrong." She only hopes that her son will take her words to heart.
"I didn't want to leave you," he explains.
"I know, honey. I know," she pacifies, lightly rocking her baby.
The awful fight in the parking lot repeats in the queen's mind. She replays the horrible things she said, how she was so quick to judge Emma and how she nearly killed this woman, only minutes ago.
Sensing his mother's distress, Henry breaks the warm embrace to meet his mother's eyes. "Are you mad at Emma?"
Gazing down at the sheets of the hospital bed, the queen numbly replies, "That doesn't matter. What's important is that you're alright."
But Henry knows his mother better than anyone and pushes the issue. "I'm fine, Mom. But something's the matter with Emma."
The queen shakes her head to disagree with her son and in an attempt to free herself from the awful memories filling her awareness. She would rather not remember Emma's pleading expression and the fear behind her eyes when she was face to face with the Evil Queen. "There's no excuse for what she did."
"But, Mom, this isn't like her," Henry insists. "I know something's wrong."
When his mother doesn't respond and only continues to gaze at the sheets, Henry inquires, "Did you two have a fight?"
Without meeting her son's gaze, the brunette woman nods. "Just now," she whispers. Her regret is evident.
Henry voices a recent revelation. "You were fighting because of me."
The queen snaps to attention. "No," she quickly assures. "No, honey, not because of you."
"Yes," the teenager maintains. He begins to argue his point. "If I hadn't gotten hurt—"
"Listen to me," the queen interjects. "This is not your fault." She is firm in her conviction. There is no way that she is going to let her precious son blame himself for what happen between her and Emma.
Apparently his mother's words had affected the concerned boy. Sensing that something else was the cause his parents' fight, Henry attempts to question his mother.
"Mom?"
But the queen is too distraught to converse with her son, who, she believes, should remain shielded from his mothers' drama. She vocalizes her realization. "Henry, I need to call your grandmother." Sensing that her son is not ready to be parted from her, she grasps his hand in a display of sincerity. "Don't worry. I'm going to take care of everything, including your mother." When Henry's eyes widen in horror, Regina explains. "I'm not going to kill her. But I am going to find out what's going on." She rises to leave. "I'll be right back." She places a warm kiss on the frightened teenager's forehead before exiting the room.
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Mary Margaret kept her phone close by because she had been waiting for news from her daughter, since Emma decided that today she would tell Regina about their child. This is why she is surprised when her phone rings and it is not Emma.
"Regina?"
There is no time for formalities, the queen decides, and cuts to the chase. "Where's Emma?"
Understandably, Regina's bluntness catches the younger woman off guard. "I don't know." Mary Margaret answers honestly. "I haven's seen her since this morning."
"Damnit!" The queen's frustration is growing by the minute.
"Why? What's wrong?"
She inhales deeply before speaking, determined to elucidate recent events. "For some reason, your daughter has completely lost her mind."
"Did she talk to you?"
The horrible argument replays in the older woman's mind. "She tried to kidnap my son." She has to pause in order to bite back her tears before continuing and returns to the safer emotion, anger. "In the process, she nearly killed him!"
"Kidnap him?!"
"Did you hear what I said?" Her tone is threatening. "My son almost died!"
Snow White remembers what Regina is capable of when she is angry or upset. She quickly attempts to pull her back from the abyss by softening her tone and approaches this woman in a non-threatening manner. "What happened?"
Regina, once again, focuses on the one thing she can control, her breath. Returning to an even rhythm, she explains, "She tried to take him away from me and now he's in the hospital."
Now Mary Margaret understands the weight of the situation and regrets not being there to support her grandson's mother. "Is he alright?"
"He's alright," Regina assures. "The worst of his injuries is a broken arm. But they are keeping him over night for observation, to make sure that he doesn't have a concussion."
She fears the worst. "She broke his arm?!"
These two women actually balance each other well. When one is out of control, the other is serene.
"She pushed him out of her moving death-trap," Regina clarifies, mindful to keep her tone even.
"Why would she push him?" The younger woman is becoming, noticeably, more alarmed.
"He was trying to call me because Emma was taking him away from Storybrooke," Regina explains. "But when she tried to take his phone away, she opened the car door instead."
Regina hears the younger woman numbly state, "I can't believe she would do this."
Her interest is piqued. "What do you know?"
She attempts to cancel out her previous statement. "Nothing."
Returning to the old tactic of intimidation, Regina warns, "Your daughter tried to kidnap my son and I want to know why!" She backs off immediately. "Mary Margaret, please, I need to know what's going on."
As much as the admission pains her, she is honest with granddaughter's mother. "It's about the baby."
The queen's awareness is overtaken by panic. "What happened? Is something wrong with the baby?"
"No," the younger woman assures. "The baby's fine." She decides on a direct approach. "You didn't talk to Emma?"
"I yelled at her," Regina admits. The remorse in her voice is unmistakable.
Snow White's heart sinks. "You didn't."
"I was in a blind rage," the queen justifies. "My son was in pain." Recognizing her own horrific error makes Regina sick. "I don't even remember what I said. Though, I'm pretty sure I threatened to kill her."
"Regina, please tell me you didn't."
She doesn't want to admit it. But whether she says it or not doesn't change the reality. "I think I told her to leave Storybrooke."
The younger woman cries, "She can't leave." She fights for the strength to say what she says next. "Regina you have to go after her."
Mary Margaret's insistence is grounds for alarm. "What do you know?" The lack of response from the other woman increases her distress. She asks again. "Mary Margaret?"
"I'll meet you at the hospital," is the last thing Mary Margaret says before ending the call.
The conversation had understandably left the older woman even more perplexed than before. There are so many questions that she still doesn't have answers to. The most puzzling statement to come out of that conversation had to do with the baby. Is that what Emma came to talk to me about this morning? No wonder she was so upset. She was scared and I threatened her.
She is determined to make things right between them. Immediately, she retrieves the phone from her blazer pocket and attempts to call Emma Swan. When the call rings multiple times before going to voicemail, the queen realizes that she should have known it wouldn't be that easy to get in touch with the hysterical blonde woman.
Swan, answer your phone, she thinks as she paces in the hallway outside her son's hospital room.
The next time she gets the woman's voicemail, she leaves a message. "Emma, it's me. I need to talk to you. Please call me back."
Since she's not answering her phone, the queen reasons, sending a text would be the next logical step. I'm sorry. Please call me.
It isn't long before Regina, becoming more desperate for a response, decides to send another text. Please don't leave Storybrooke. She pauses for a moment before typing out the next part. I love you. Whether she believes herself worthy of this relationship or not and regardless of the outcome, Emma deserves to know how she feels.
The conversation with her former adversary understandably left the queen ill at ease. Thankfully, when she returns to her son's room she spots the one person who may be able to help her. "I need to talk to you," she quietly informs her son's doctor.
Whale had anticipated that Regina would want to speak with him about Henry's status. However, the mayor's tone is suggestive of a more ominous conversation. He hesitates. "Of course."
"Privately," Regina insists. Her voice is hushed in an effort to not alarm her son. "I need to speak with you privately."
The physician tentatively follows Regina out into the hall.
"Is there somewhere we can go?" The queen is noticeably agitated.
"Let's step in here," Whale offers, gesturing to an unoccupied exam room. Closing the door behind them, Whale prompts, "What can I do for you?"
She knows she shouldn't, but that doesn't prevent her from prying into confidential information. "I know you performed Emma's ultra-sound."
That comment alone is a red flag for the experienced doctor. "Regina, I can't discuss my patients—"
"Save it Whale," Regina interrupts, "you're not even a real doctor."
"Okay." He is noticeably wounded. "Words hurt, you know." Over the years Doctor Frankenstein and Regina have had their differences. Regardless, they grew to appreciate each other and maintained a somewhat playful relationship, except Regina is not playing now.
"I'm sorry. I just," the queen hesitates. She has suddenly grown weak. "I need to sit down." Unable to support her own weight, she collapses in a nearby chair. For a brief moment, she rests with her head in her hands, summoning the courage to ask the question that, regardless of the outcome, she could never be ready to hear the answer to. "Please, Victor," she whispers. She lifts her head from its hiding place, her eyes filled with un-shed tears. "I'm begging you. I'm at my wits-end."
Never before had Whale seen Regina so exposed. What's more, she voluntarily made herself this vulnerable. This must be serious.
"Doctor Whale," she formally addresses. "When was her baby conceived?"
"I saw Miss Swan toward the end of last week," he recalls. "So…" he thinks. "It would be about ten weeks now." When he is met with only a blank stare, his concern for this woman's well-being grows. "Regina? Are you alright?"
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When she finally came to, Regina was relieved to discover herself resting on the merciful cold tile of the exam room floor. Though she still cannot see through the haze, she recognizes a familiar voice. "Regina?"
"Whale?" she weakly replies.
"Regina, you fainted," he informs
The queen's interpretation is a little different. "I thought I just paused to take a nap." She is obviously still a little loopy.
"Okay, just sit up slowly," the physician instructs. He, along with his nurse, attempts to guide the shocked woman to a sitting position. "Not too fast," he advises, when Regina tries to do it herself. Offering her a Styrofoam cup with a bent straw, he encourages. "Sip some water, you'll feel better."
She is too run down to argue and instead accepts the offered beverage. After a few sips of the restorative liquid, she announces, "I have to find Emma."
"I don't think that's the best idea, right now," Whale discourages.
Normally, she would use magic to get herself out of such a predicament. But she is too run down to draw upon any magic and struggles to be free of Whale's and the nurse's grip. "I need to find Emma," she insists.
When he realizes that Regina is too weak to turn him into a pile of dust, Whale is firm in his stance as a medical expert. "First you need to stand." He directs the nurse to bring a wheelchair for the weakened queen.
When the nurse returns, Regina informs, "I don't need a wheelchair."
His confidence increasing, Whale insists, "A wheelchair is the only way you are leaving this room."
As the medical professionals lift the queen off the floor and into the wheelchair, Regina reminds, "You're lucky I can't access my magic right now."
"I know," the doctor concedes, as a hint of a smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.
Whale's nurse wheels Regina back to Henry's room, where Henry's grandmother is already waiting.
Mary Margaret runs over to the pair, before they are half-way in the room. "Regina? Regina, what happened?"
"Mom?" The sight of his mother in this helpless state frightens the teenager.
"I'm alright, honey," Regina assures. The last thing she wants is to upset her already shaken son.
The younger woman implores the medical technician. "What happened?"
"She's alright. She just fainted," the young nurse informs.
"Can you please stop talking about me as though I'm not here?" Apparently, recent events have not inhibited the queen's sass.
Mary Margaret re-directs her attention toward the woman in the wheelchair. "I'm sorry. Regina, what happened?"
The older woman averts her eyes out of fear of breaking down.
Mary Margaret tries a milder approach and crouches down to the chair's level. Softening her tone, she encourages, "Please tell me what happened."
Unable to formulate words under the watchful gaze of her son, the queen only shakes her head in response.
Understanding what remains unspoken, Mary Margaret informs her grandson, "Henry, I'll be right back." She stands and pushes Regina's chair out of the room.
The citizens of Storybrooke had never seen their mayor and the formal Evil Queen in such a fragile state. Registering the eyes upon her, Regina hides her face in her hand while Mary Margaret pushes her down the hallway until they reach a less crowded area. Normally the eyes of peasants upon her would not faze the queen. However, under the circumstances, Regina wishes for nothing more than the power to disappear.
Mary Margaret places the wheelchair in park and claims a chair across from her former nemesis. Resting a calming hand on Regina's lap, the younger woman urges, "What happened?"
The older woman sniffles. "The baby's mine."
"You talked to Emma?" She is immediately hopeful. "You found her?"
"No. She's not answering my calls." Suddenly comprehending the reason for Mary Margaret's enthusiastic reaction, the queen checks to make sure her suspicions are correct. "Wait a minute. You know?"
"She told me," the younger woman admits, before adding, "and David."
The family already knows. I might as well bare my soul. "I need to find her Mary Margaret," Regina cries. "I can't let her leave."
"You'll find her. I know you will."
Regina expresses a legitimate fear. "What if she's already gone?"
"You would know if she already left. You'd feel it," the hopeful woman reminds.
Regina knows the annoying woman is right. Because of their connection, she would feel it if Emma crossed the town line. "Who else knows about the baby?"
"No one," she automatically replies. But that is a lie. "Except Gold."
"Gold knows about my baby?"
"She went to see him after the ultra-sound." When the older woman doesn't respond, she fears she has said too much. "Regina?"
"Murdering a crocodile just made my "to-do" list."