26 weeks – Regina/David, bonding scene - WasabiDuckies
"Hello?" David called out, pushing open the door with one hand and holding a pot of stew in the other.
He closed the door behind him, looking around the entrance before slipping off his boots.
"Regina?"
David put down the pot, brows furrowing in concern at the absolute silence in the house. Emma was at work, and Henry was at school, but he knew Regina was home. The mayor worked from home on occasion now that she was pregnant. She should have heard him knocking, and if not that, then at least have heard him when he called out upon entering her home.
An uneasy feeling crept up his spine, causing David to abandon the stew and immediately begin searching the first floor, looking around for any evidence of foul play. He found nothing unusual until he entered the kitchen, his stomach bottoming out at the scene before him: an open cupboard door, a shattered coffee mug on the floor – liquid mess left in a puddle by the bottom of the stove, an abandoned pan sitting on the stove, Regina's keys on the island, open purse sitting next to it. This was extremely unusual for the almost neurotically clean woman he knew so well.
Adrenaline pumping, David immediately turned around and began yelling Regina's name as he raced down the hall, his tone frantic. He took the stairs two at a time, his entire upper body heaving a great sigh of relief when Regina emerged from her bedroom, seemingly unscathed. The relief was short-lived, however, when he noticed she had very clearly been crying.
"David? What are you doing here?"
David immediately made him way over, pulling the former queen into his arms and hugging her tightly.
"You scared the hell out of me. What happened? Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she replied, though her voice was thick.
"I saw the kitchen. I thought someone attacked you."
He pulled back, but his hands gripped her biceps as he looked her over, not yet ready to break contact with her. The scene in the kitchen had scared the shit out of him.
"What happened?" he repeated. "Why are you crying?"
Tears welled up in her eyes again, much to Regina's dismay. His look of sincere concern, as well as the unmistakable panic she'd heard in his voice when he'd been searching for her, made Regina's formerly impenetrable walls crumble like a house of cards. The fact that he looked just like Emma, or rather, that she could see so much of Emma in him, didn't help her ability to resist telling him the truth.
"I had a bad morning. I'm alright. I was going to clean up the mess later."
The tears began to fall when David's face softened as she spoke, his thumb brushing her arm in the same way Emma's was prone to doing. Regina wasn't even sure if either of them were aware that they did it, the subconscious movement meant to soothe her, and it did. Annoyingly so, it did.
David had always been someone Regina had felt uncommonly close to, had trusted in a manner she did not others. He was one of the very few who was permitted to touch her, to enter her personal space, and who did not make her uncomfortable in doing so. It was incredibly confusing, at times, to feel so comfortable with someone who loved the person she despised so completely. Or, at least, had once despised so completely. She would not admit aloud that those feelings had changed with time.
Maybe.
She was not her friend, however. No matter what it might look like.
"Come on," David coaxed, gently taking her arm and leading her to the stairs. "Come sit at the island and you can tell me what happened."
"David, I'm fine-"
"You're not fine. You're upset."
Regina stopped walking, giving him a look.
"Well, you are. Besides, I brought you a ragout. I even made it myself, with the herbs I've been growing at the loft. I bet you haven't eaten today, have you?"
"I have," Regina argued feebly, though she resumed walking with him down the stairs.
"What did you eat?"
Regina stayed quiet.
"You need to eat, Regina."
"I did eat. It just… wasn't enough. I was going to eat after I calmed."
David scooped up the pot on their way to the kitchen, Regina's stomach rumbling as soon as the smells hit her nose.
"That smells incredible."
"Yeah? Good. I was worried something in it would make you feel nauseated. When Snow was pregnant for Emma, it was like dodging arrows trying to predict what foods were safe this week and which ones weren't."
Regina chuckled, sliding into one of the seats at the island. She glanced over at the mess she'd made earlier on the floor, immediately getting up with the intention to clean up the pieces. That was, until she found herself unable to move.
"Sit," David said sternly, his arm holding her in place. "First, food. Then, while you eat, I'll clean the mess. And in the meantime, you tell me what happened."
Regina sighed, sitting back and down interlacing her fingers, pressing her thumb into her palm. She didn't like sitting idle, and she liked being vulnerable even less. She watched quietly as David confidently made his way around the kitchen, wondering when in the hell he'd become so familiar with her home. Probably around the time his daughter did, she supposed.
Regina watched him reach up for a bowl and then lean over to grab a spoon before making his way over to snag a ladle from the drawer. He then returned to the pot, Regina's mouth watering when he lifted the lid and the smell of the stew permeated the air.
"Did you need something?" Regina finally asked. "I wasn't expecting you."
"Nope," he replied, glancing up at her to shoot her a smile before popping the now full bowl into the microwave. "I know Emma's working and Henry's in school. Snow's teaching; Neal is in daycare. I stopped by Town Hall, but they said you decided to work from home. So, I thought I'd come here and see how you were doing."
"With stew."
"With stew," David confirmed, grabbing the garbage bin and beginning to place pieces of the broken mug inside.
"I can-"
"Continue growing my grandchild? Yes, I'd like that," David interrupted, grinning when Regina shot him a (feigned) look of irritation. "Come on, Madame Mayor. You can do better than that. That didn't even scare me."
Regina rolled her eyes and looked away, stomach rumbling again when the microwave sounded. She sighed in relief when the bowl was placed before her, her heart clenching when David pressed an affectionate kiss to her temple.
"There. Now, eat up and tell me about your rough morning."
Regina dipped her spoon in the stew, swirling it around a few times before bringing a spoonful of the food to her lips. Her eyes nearly rolled to the back of her skull when the flavours met her tongue, tears of delight forming behind her eyes. Gods. The amount of times she was crying lately was ridiculous.
"It began well," Regina finally spoke, trying to distract herself from the desire to cry at how good the dish tasted. "Emma and Henry made me breakfast, and they left without incident. It was as soon as they left that the problems began. I accidentally burnt the pancakes they made me when I left them on the stove to reheat. I became distracted and by the time I remembered the pancakes, it was too late. They were burnt.
"I picked at the unburnt pieces, and ate what was salvageable. But after just a few bites, I accidentally burnt my finger because I was picking pieces right from the frying pan, since the pancakes were so burnt. I intended to just… eat what I could and then throw the entire pan out – pancakes and all," Regina paused, taking a few more bites. Normally, she would never be so wasteful as to toss out an entire pan (evidenced by the fact that she ate what were very dry and overcooked pancakes. But, she'd been feeling irrationally angry and she suddenly decided that she never wanted to see the pan again. So she'd made the decision to throw it out after she'd finished eating). "But then my finger slipped and I touched the bottom of it, and when I jerked my hand back, I knocked my coffee all over the floor, shattering Emma's favourite mug. Then I started crying, and all was lost from there."
Regina's cheeks coloured as she swirled a potato around her bowl.
"Before all of this, I had intended to go buy groceries, but then I started to think about the fact that my hair is a mess today, and I didn't want to be seen by others when I looked this way," Regina continued, unable to stop herself from sharing the entire story when she realised that David was listening to her, face full of understanding, free of any judgment. "My hip has been bothering me, but today it felt better, so I thought I could attempt it. But as I started writing my list, I began thinking about how heavy the groceries would be. Emma likes those sports drinks but the boxes are so heavy. I was afraid of injuring my hip, but I can't say this to Emma because she's already doing so much, I don't want her to take on any more. I started feeling discouraged and then I realised the pancakes were burning, so I was crying and eating burnt pancakes, and then when I shattered the mug, her favourite mug, all was lost."
Regina stared down at her nearly empty bowl, tears streaming down her face again. She felt incredibly exposed and unbelievably stupid now that she heard herself speak it all aloud, and she was cursing herself for opening up to David this way. Damn him and damn his similarity to Emma, who managed to do the same thing to Regina.
"Sounds like a rough morning," David said softly, reaching out to squeeze Regina's forearm.
He'd learnt through experience that it was best to just listen, and not offer solutions. His first instinct was to tell Regina he'd happily go do groceries for her, but he could already hear Snow in his ear that I don't want solutions, David! I want you to listento me! And his response of, I am listening, honey. That's how I knew what to do to fix this had only made her angrier, much to his confusion.
It had taken a lot of tears and yelling on Snow's part, and a lot of confusion on his, before she'd finally blurted out the real problem: I want you to listen, not fix it! I can come up with my own solutions! 'Fixing' the problem isn't what I want from you, David! God! This is why women talk to each other rather than to their husbands! You guys don't listen! You just want to fix the problem so we'll shut up! But I just want you to listen.
Ah.
It had been a light bulb moment for him, and it had been incredibly beneficial for their relationship when it had finally gone off. Because what Snow had said wasn't true. He didn't want her to 'shut up'. He simply didn't want her to be upset. He wanted to fix the problem so it wouldn't happen again. But, as he'd learnt, sometimes all that was needed was a listening ear.
So, he reached out and pulled Regina into a hug, rubbing her back gently.
"You okay?"
Regina nodded, swiping at her tears.
"It's silly."
"It's not silly, Regina."
Regina stayed quiet, taking a deep breath before finally pulling away. Her gaze landed on the trash can, guilt consuming her as she reflected upon what had happened.
"I don't know how to tell Emma I broke her favourite mug."
"She loves you. She'll understand."
Regina shook her head.
"That's not the point. It was her favourite. She loved that mug because it was like a soup bowl. We have no others like it. And now I've broken it."
David hesitated.
"Well, do you have plans today?" he asked, wondering if maybe she'd like to replace the mug she'd accidentally broken. "The market is open until 2. We can't do anything for her favourite mug, but maybe you can give her a new favourite one? We could swing by and see what Granny's made lately and then maybe go pick up those groceries you wanted?"
Regina looked at him carefully.
"It's your day off. Don't you have better things to do?"
"Than to spend the day with my family? No. That's exactly how I want to spend my day off."
Regina's eyebrows creased.
"But I'm not really-"
"You're in love with my daughter," David interrupted, before she could finish her sentence. "She's blindly in love with you. You're the mother of my grandchildren. You're literally carrying my grandchild as we speak. Not to mention all the other ways we're related. Regina, like it or not, you're my family."
Regina looked down at her hands, warmth settling deep in her belly.
"We have a lot of history, Regina. A lot of negative history, admittedly, but it's mostly in the past now. We're not the same people we were. You're not the same person. You've changed. We all see it."
Tears, yet again, welled up in her eyes. She had no words to express how it felt to hear David say that he saw her as a changed person.
"You're not her anymore, Regina. And Snow and I… we aren't them, the Snow and Charming who wanted you dead, who hated you and did everything in their power to get rid of you. We're separate people now; we all are. We've changed. Those people, they're in the past. Now, you're just Regina. Regina who loves my daughter, who my daughter loves in turn, and who is the mother of my grandkids. You're just… Regina."
Regina bit hard on her quivering bottom lip, wringing her hands as she fought desperately against the tears. David, unable to hold back any longer, reached out and hoisted her up into his arms. He could see how she was struggling, trying to fight against the desire to cry, and it was too much. She'd spent far too many years of her life alone in her struggles, navigating her pain without anyone there to comfort her. He knew she'd never reach out of her own volition, so he pulled her into his arms, tucking her into his embrace.
David held her close, one arm across her shoulders as the other cupped the back of her head, murmuring softly as she cried in his arms. He knew how hard she'd tried to change. How difficult it had been to work through all of the hurt and pain and destruction she'd caused. How dark and bleak that time had been for her, as she worked through the guilt and the shame of it all. But she'd worked hard, she'd fought through it, the way that Regina always did. David was certain he wouldn't have had the strength to overcome the way Regina had. But that's what she was: a survivor. Just like his daughter. And he couldn't be prouder of them both.
He held her close until her sobs finally subsided, reaching out for some paper towel when she'd calmed. She thanked him, turning away and blowing her nose.
"We don't have to go anywhere. If you just wanted to spend the day-"
"No," Regina said quickly, turning back to face him after she'd discarded the used paper towel. "Your idea sounds nice. I-I was going to spend the day in bed. After this morning, I didn't think I'd be able to face the world. But you've changed my mood. Thank you, David."
"Any time," he said sincerely. "We're family, Regina. When you have a rough day like this, reach out. Okay? Or if you want or need groceries and Emma's working, just call me. Even if you don't need anything and you just want company, if I'm around, I'm happy to come by. I know you're used to doing everything alone, but you don't have to do that anymore. You're not alone. You have us now. Me and Snow. Not to mention your friends."
He'd had this exact same conversation countless times with Emma. He hoped that, unlike with his daughter, the message might stick better with Regina. Wishful thinking, probably, but he wanted to put it out there anyway.
Regina, unable to respond for the knot in her throat, simply nodded. She grabbed her bowl and covered it with cling wrap. It was mostly empty, but the stew had been so good, and Regina really wasn't one to waste. She placed it and the pot into the fridge, thanking David yet again for the food.
"My pleasure. I've been experimenting more in the kitchen and I'm getting pretty good."
"You might want to get your daughter to take a few lessons," Regina said dryly.
David chuckled.
"She has other qualities. I think I'd rather you be the one to feed my grandchildren. I want them to survive to adulthood."
Regina laughed, for what felt like the first time in too long. David beamed, pleased that he'd managed to turn her mood around.
"Come on, let's get going before all the good mugs are taken."
Regina grinned, shaking her head. She really did like David.
She followed him to the front entrance, accepting his help as he held out her coat and bent to lace her boots. She knew there was no point in arguing.
"You're as bad as your daughter, you know. I am capable of dressing myself."
"She's hovering?"
"Incredibly so," Regina complained. "I can't do anything without her batting my hands away and insisting she'll do it."
David beamed, happy to hear it.
"Good," he replied, ushering Regina out of the house before opening the passenger door of his vehicle. "I'm glad to hear she's been taking care of you."
Regina glared at him. He was meant to be on her side.
"Your glares really need work," David teased, as he slid into the driver's side. "They're just not as effective anymore."
"I've gone soft," Regina muttered, looking out the window. "I need to murder someone to remedy that."
"I've got a family of mice that have taken my garage hostage. I can't get rid of them. You could start small and work your way up?"
Regina couldn't help the smile on her face, glancing back at the man who was grinning widely at her.
"You realise there is something wrong with us both, sitting here so casually discussing murder."
David shrugged as he pulled out of the driveway.
"It's not the weirdest topic we've discussed."
Regina let out a soft laugh.
"True."
They chatted amicably on the drive to the market, which had been moved into one of the remodeled barns for the winter season. In the summer, the barn was mostly used for weddings and in the winter, for the weekly market, the yearly Christmas dance, and random other events that required a large space. It had been one of Regina's ideas, as a way to make use of the formerly abandoned barns which lay about the outskirts of Storybrooke. The project had been a success, much to Regina's satisfaction (like there was any doubt. It was her idea after all.).
Regina smoothed her hair as they pulled in the parking lot, grunting in irritation as the static created by her gloved hands caused her hair to stick out. David, hearing the distressed sound, stepped out of the car and grabbed some snow in his left hand. He walked over to the passenger side, opening the door and dropping the snow he had picked up. He then rubbed his hands together, letting the melted snow cling to his fingers before he ran them over Regina's locks. He grinned when the static disappeared, her unruly hair flattened down.
"There, perfect."
Regina checked herself in the visor mirror, swiping at a few errant locks before closing it in satisfaction.
"Thank you."
David smiled at her and helped her out of the car, taking hold of her elbow as they walked.
"Like I said, here to help you however I can."
"Even with a hair emergency?"
"Especially with a hair emergency," he replied seriously, the smile on his lips making Regina chuckle.
"I'm lucky to have you," Regina said softly, looking ahead as they walked. Admitting it made her feel vulnerable, something she usually actively tried to avoid, but it seemed truths were just spilling out of her today where David was concerned. "I'm lucky to have all of you, especially after everything I've done."
David stayed quiet for a moment, contemplating his thoughts. He opened the door to the barn, his hand falling to Regina's lower back as he guided her inside.
"We weren't so innocent either, Regina. We retaliated just as aggressively as you attacked, and we caused you a lot of hurt and pain as well."
"I was much worse though," Regina argued, though her tone stayed low. The market was busy, the barn full of people. Their conversation was lost in the sounds of so much activity, but still. Regina didn't want to be overheard, so she kept her voice quiet. "I initiated most of our battles."
"Doesn't matter, Regina. We still fought. We weren't innocent in any of it. And it all stems from a decision my wife made years ago. We aren't entirely free of blame. If Snow hadn't spilled that secret, things might have been very different between us."
Regina stayed quiet, her fingers grazing over Granny's pottery. It was left unattended, the market operating on the honour system. Vendors dropped off their products in the morning, and a money box was left on the edge of their table. Granny's pottery table was no different. Thus, the two were left alone, and Regina debated internally. She debated speaking aloud a truth she had never before admitted to anyone outside of therapy, a truth she had kept to herself for a while now, not ready to speak it to anyone other than her therapist. She wondered if now was the time to open up, to speak aloud what she'd been keeping to herself for so long. She was scared though. She wasn't sure if she was ready, but David's statement created the perfect opportunity for Regina to make an admission that was decades overdue. The question was, was she ready?
She'd been practising lately. She'd spoken the words to Archie, and to herself, in her mind, when she was alone. It had been difficult, but she'd had a powerful motivation: she wanted things to be different. She wanted her children to have a happy, healthy family. One without tension. She wanted Emma to have a happy family and not feel the division between her parents and her lover. She wanted their family to be whole. She didn't want the rift, the separation, that currently existed (between herself and Snow especially) to continue. She wanted things to change. She didn't want this event from the past to continue to live in her present, in their present. The air needed to be cleared, and she knew it had to come from her.
Regina knew that she wasn't ready to have this conversation with Snow. Not yet. She wasn't sure if she'd ever truly be ready. But she'd given herself an internal deadline. She wanted this conversation to happen with both of her former enemies before this baby was born. Enough was enough. The past needed to be put to rest. They all deserved as much. Regina too. Things were different now. She was different. And she wanted differently for her family.
Regina looked up at David, who was quietly inspecting mugs, oblivious to her inner turmoil. She bit her lip. She needed to take this step. She needed to face this, to voice this truth, despite how anxious it made her. David was a safe person for her. She trusted him, in a way she trusted so few others. She should start with him. She should open up to him. He deserved the truth. He deserved to hear her say it. It had been a long time coming, after all, but she was worried. Her thoughts were swirling in her mind as she reflected.
There had never been a 'light switch' moment for her. She didn't suddenly, miraculously change her opinion overnight. This wasn't a movie, after all. This change within her had been years in the making, starting as soon as Henry had been placed in her arms, her heart instantly beginning to thaw in a way it never had before. For him. He had been the first trigger for the transformation within her. And it had been incredibly slow back then, minute change after minute change, her son re-igniting emotions within her that she had long thought dead.
Henry had reawakened something in her, and as he had grown older, something had loosened within her, causing her to feel things she hadn't in so very long, causing her to think and see things differently than she had her entire life. And then Henry had turned 10, the same age Snow had been when she'd divulged her secret, causing an unexpected tsunami of emotions for Regina.
Seeing Henry so small and innocent and young at that age, it had really put into perspective just how naïve a ten-year-old child was. And that realisation had thrown her for a loop. It had made her think. And the more she thought, the more her perspective changed, and that had floored her. So she'd begun therapy with Archie soon after that, trying to work through those emotions. And she'd found a comfortable place of acknowledging that something was changing for her, that she might, perhaps see things differently, but she steadfastly refused to admit what she saw differently (or whom).
And then the second major shift had happened: Emma.
Emma had stepped into her life and she'd blown it all to hell. Regina's careful control of everything, including over herself, had been shattered in an instant. And Regina had thought that, yet again, her happiness had been destroyed by another. Oh, how she'd loathed Emma back then, thinking her to be the worst thing that had ever happened to her.
But… she had been so, incredibly wrong. Emma had been… She had been her salvation.
It truly was incredible what fate had decided for her, for Regina, the former Evil Queen, former enemy of Snow White and Prince Charming. She was now one of the good guys, in an incredibly ironic twist of fate. And in an even more ironic twist of fate, Regina had eventually fallen desperately in love with her former enemies' daughter, and now they were raising children together.
Regina truly believed that it was Emma's love, as well as Henry's, and the support of the people who cared about her, that had been instrumental in her change, in her success against the darkness within her. And David and Snow, they had been key components, as well. They had been two of her biggest advocates, her most loyal supports, when, at one time, they wanted nothing more than to kill her. And now her former enemy was here, inspecting mugs with her, carrying her purse, and doting on her.
She should be brave. She should tell him. She should tell him how things had changed for her.
But still, she was scared. She was worried. Regina chewed her bottom lip, looking down at the table, her thoughts racing. She wanted things to change, and she knew that she needed to choose differently in order for that to happen. She needed to do something different and break old patterns in order for that change to occur. And she did want that change, desperately so. She wanted Emma's life, her own life, and their children's lives to be filled with nothing but love and support. She wanted to be free of the past, and Regina knew that in order for that to happen, she needed to let go. And then David looked up at her, smiled at her so genuinely, and he unwittingly caused yet another shift within her. Her anxiety began to melt away and the last bit of her hesitation was released from her body.
Regina took a deep breath for courage, and she spoke.
"My mother tricked her," Regina said quietly, though she steadfastly refused to look at David, missing his look of absolute shock. "She was a master of deception and she was incredibly cunning. Snow was a child. And she didn't know my mother. Even as an adult, my mother continued to trick me, and I had known her my entire life. So, if I could be continuously duped by her, of course Snow would easily be tricked by her as well."
Regina swallowed hard, discreetly leaning on her fingers against the table, closing her eyes against the feelings overwhelming her. Her heart was racing, her palms sweaty as she fought the anxiety and the fear and the overwhelming feelings stirred up by the words she uttered next, words that she had spent a life-time refusing to even consider, let alone acknowledge or voice aloud:
"I don't blame Snow. Not anymore. She was ten. It wasn't her fault. I know my mother is the true villain in all of this. I know that everything that happened, it was all her doing. It was her fault entirely. My mother, and only my mother, is to blame for Daniel's death."
David could do nothing but stare, his breath caught in his chest as the magnitude of what Regina had just confessed settled over them both. The root of everything between them had stemmed from that moment, that event between Snow and Cora, and then Cora's actions afterwards. And Regina had just admitted aloud that she didn't blame Snow, and that she blamed her mother entirely. It was beyond monumental, and David was stunned into silence. He simply stared at Regina, replaying her words over and over in his brain, almost unable to comprehend what she was saying to him, what those words meant.
They changed everything.
David, finally noticing Regina's quiet trembling, put down the mug he'd been holding and immediately guided her outside, pulling her behind the barn where they'd be alone. He wrapped his arms around her, holding her close while she sobbed. He had no idea what to say. He didn't know how to react. He had never, ever expected this to happen. He had always thought they'd just move on, leave that part of their history untouched, ignoring it by mutual agreement.
He and Snow had discussed those events countless times over the course of their relationship. Snow had struggled heavily with the guilt of her actions, faulting herself for her entire life for the decisions she had made. She felt responsible for Daniel's death, for ruining Regina's chance at happiness. No matter how much David tried to convince Snow that she'd been but a child, that her intentions had never been for anyone to get hurt, that in fact, they had been quite the opposite… it hadn't mattered. Snow had shouldered that guilt and that grief for decades. She'd been unable to let it go. And David knew that Regina's continually faulting Snow, and not her mother, had much to do with it.
They had ultimately come to the conclusion long ago that they would simply accept that Regina would always blame Snow, that she'd never truly fault Cora, and that they'd, as a couple, let it go. They'd let it rest. They were tired of fighting. They were happy with their lives in Storybrooke, they had seen the incredible change in their former enemy, and if this was something Regina could never do, if she could never forgive Snow, then they'd simply have to live with that.
But to hear Regina admit the words aloud, words he'd long ago accepted he'd never, ever hear… it floored him. It was enough to make him sway in surprise, shocked beyond words. This was momentous, and he cried his own tears as he held Regina close. He held her for what seemed like hours, both shedding tears, releasing a powerful burden that had weighed them down for decades. Regina felt yet another shift inside of her, decades old wounds healing as David held her close.
They stayed quiet for a long time, David stroking Regina's back, waiting for her to finally be ready to speak. And when she was, he took a step back so they could look at one another, but he kept his hand on her wrist, wanting to keep that connection. This was huge for them both, the word 'life-altering' floating in the back of his mind. Given everything they'd gone through, David felt that that word might be the most fitting of them all.
"I'm not ready to talk to her about this. I… it isn't fair of me to ask you to keep this to yourself, but I'm not ready to discuss it with her."
David nodded. He was still reeling. He had no idea what to say. He was overwhelmed by this admission.
"It has taken me a very long time to work through what happened. And to get to this point. I never thought I would," Regina admitted. "But I want things to be different, David. Emma deserves for this to be settled between us. As much as you try to argue that you and Snow were equal participants, we both know that isn't true. I was the aggressor. Much of, if not all, was my doing. Or my mother's. It rests upon me to settle this. To bring closure between us all."
"It was never your responsibility to speak for your mother's actions," David finally spoke, squeezing her wrist. "Nor to apologise for them. Your mom was horrible to all of us, and to you especially."
"Be that as it may, I am responsible for my actions. And they were abhorrent and reprehensible. Unforgivable. They were evil, David. And I can never truly atone for what I've done, but I can attempt to fix some things. And I want to fix this. I know that you both would have continued to allow me to fault Snow for what she did, for spilling that secret, but it isn't fair to her. Because it isn't her fault."
Regina, finally seeing the sheer shock on David's face, let out a soft chuckle.
"Your daughter and our children have put things in perspective. They've changed me."
Time and therapy had done wonders as well, but the biggest motivation was certainly Emma. And their children.
David swiped at more errant tears.
"I don't know what to say."
"I've always been known for my element of surprise," Regina replied, grinning wickedly at him.
David laughed, nodding in agreement.
"That you have, your majesty."
Regina grinned wider.
"Do you think… will you ever have this discussion with Snow?"
Regina sobered slightly, looking out at the field behind them as she contemplated her answer.
"I know that I will, but I need time."
She'd tested the waters with David, and she felt better, lighter. But she wasn't yet ready for this conversation with his wife.
"Do you want me to hold off on telling her?"
Regina wrapped her arms around herself, glancing at him once before looking back at the field.
"No. She deserves to know. And it isn't fair of me to ask you to keep something this significant from her. I am, however, going to ask you to both keep this to yourselves. And I don't want to discuss it with her, yet," Regina repeated. "I'll approach her when I'm ready but… I'm not. Not yet."
David nodded in understanding.
"I never thought this day would come."
"Nor I," Regina admitted. "Your daughter is a powerful motivating factor. You know, for a clumsy oaf."
"She's a lovable, clumsy oaf though."
Regina smiled affectionately.
"That she is."
"Speaking of which, shall we go back and find her a mug?"
Regina grinned at him, accepting his offered hand.
"Alright."