Chapter Text
Emma was determined to see her son to the hospital, whether Regina liked it or not. She expected the usual fight, but as it turned out, the mayor didn't protest and neither did the paramedics. She climbed in beside Henry's mom and stood out of the way. Regina's legs gave out as soon as the doors shut behind them and she slumped uncharacteristically onto a small bench. The blonde's hand clamped on to a sunken shoulder and manicured talons found their way into her calf. It was the closest they'd ever come to an actual hug and the intensity of it squeezed at Emma's chest.
Emma knew that she should probably have stayed behind to organise the scene, to take more witness statements and take custody of Jefferson if Hank had managed to cuff him. She knew that there would be questions about her competence from the council at some point, but right then she didn't care. Her gut was telling her to stay with Henry and Regina. Whether that had more to do with her own needs than duty or actual instinct she didn't know, but since the mayor seemed so tangled up in this mess, the sheriff had herself a ready excuse.
It was cramped in the ambulance and the paramedics had a job to squeeze round each other, but they didn't complain. Once they were in the hospital and on the move again, Emma realised why they'd been so accommodating. Regina's normally frosty exterior exploded into a volcano of emotion as Whale and his attendants began to work on Henry. It took all of Emma's strength and experience to keep the woman from murdering those who didn't work fast enough and to not interfere when they did.
"Jesus, Regina, will you just let them do their jobs," the blonde complained for what felt like the hundredth time.
With an intensity that threatened to burn, a glare landed on the sheriff's hand, which was clamped around Regina's jacket sleeve. "Take your hands off me, Miss Swan. I will not be dragged about by you or anyone."
Emma loosened her grip but didn't let go, moving instead to face the mayor and take hold of both her forearms. "I am seconds away from cuffing you to the nearest railing, Madam Mayor," she threatened idly, knowing that she'd given away her handcuffs and didn't have the means to follow through. "No one has the right to abuse the hospital staff, not even you. They're doing the best they can. They would do better if you would let them work without threatening to disembowel them."
Regina ripped herself out of the blonde's grasp but didn't move to escape or to chase down any more nurses. The trouble was, once she no longer had targets, her anger moved inward and self-loathing ate at her insides with renewed vigour. Tears filled her eyes and she clamped them shut before any could fall. Concentrating on the feel of Emma's closeness, she did what came naturally now; she tightened her grip on the emotions which caused her the most distress and buried them. If the lid wouldn't quite shut, it was only because she'd shoved so many rebellious feelings in there lately that they were queued up, waiting for their space in the dark. Once she had control of her world again, there would be time to shoe-horn them all into place. They wouldn't be looked at again if she could help it. The only way she knew how to function now was never to study those uncomfortable truths.
Once Regina was sure that she wasn't going to break down in public, she shrugged off Emma's returned hands and straightened her outfit. With her mask back in place, she addressed the blonde with her mayor voice, "Much as I appreciate your personal attention, Sheriff Swan, should you not be investigating this attack on my son?"
Attack? Emma's brain repeated. It seemed too soon to jump to that conclusion, unless Regina knew something she didn't. Of course, it could just be her need for drama, the blonde's inner voice suggested after a beat. She stored it regardless.
Emma had sensed the shift and knew what was coming but the dismissal still hurt. "Sure," she replied, her own tone hardening. "Why don't we start with what Jefferson said to you and what you threw in his face?"
Regina visibly paled and shifted under her jacket. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You're lying."
"Is this an interrogation?"
"It can be. Right now, I'm just taking your advice and beginning my investigation."
Emma leaned back an inch and crossed her arms. She didn't like the churning in her gut. While she couldn't believe that Regina wanted to see her son in the hospital, the brunette was caught up in something very fishy and she was already lying about it. She couldn't afford to allow bias to colour her opinion here. While other cops might have to use clever tactics to wheedle the right information out of their suspects, Emma was ready to jump in with those closed questions. A straight yes or no would give her far more to go on than nuances and inconsistencies in behaviour. Besides, she didn't have the time or patience for that approach. Her son was ill – he could be dying – and she needed information now to help him.
"And you think that I'm involved?" the mayor concluded indignantly. Her eyes narrowed. "I would never hurt my son."
"No," Emma agreed, "I don't think you would. Not intentionally, at least. But you treat everyone else like garbage, Regina. Are you telling me that no one in this town holds a grudge against you? You're the one who said he'd been attacked. I think you know better."
Red lips tasted something sour and dark eyes found refuge in the shadows for a second before returning to fixate on green. "I have nothing to say to you."
The sheriff bit her cheek. Thus far, she didn't know how she'd kept so calm. But at the mayor's unhelpful behaviour, she was close to snapping. She wanted to drag Regina back to the station for questioning, but suspected that the volatile woman would clam up entirely if she did that. She wanted to stay, for Henry, in case he woke up… or the worst happened, but there was a mad man out there who might be able to provide answers and she knew it was up to her to find them.
"Fine. I'm going to check on the kid, and then I'm going back to the station to question Jefferson," if he's in custody, she added to herself. Feeling her anger and frustration beginning to boil over, she parted with one last shot, "You might not have hurt Henry, Regina, but you're doing nothing to help him."
Those emotions were piling up again; every time Regina thought she had a handle on them, she would feel her eyes getting glassy. It was most inconvenient for someone who saw crying as a weakness. As denim-clad legs and blonde hair disappeared from sight, she let out a tiny, choked breath. Emma was right – she was doing nothing to help Henry. She had a good idea what had happened and she should just tell the sheriff what she knew so they could find a cure, but that would take the lid off her entire existence. The blonde couldn't know about that. There had to be another answer.
Regina wandered in an uncharacteristically subdued manner to where they'd taken her son. The blinds were drawn. Though she very much wanted to storm in, she recalled Emma's words and felt her legs folding until she sat in a hard, plastic chair. As her head fell into her hands, she saw the baby she'd held a decade ago. Her baby. Her son.
Some nights, when she woke to his cries and rocked him back to sleep, she fantasised – for the briefest moments – that Daniel was stood beside her. In those moments, she came closest to feeling like herself again. Whole.
Until Emma.
Daniel would always be a figment. She could never feel his arms around her; never fall into his kisses or feel safe in his embrace. Her heart ached with emptiness for that connection. The void she'd created with her father's death had begun to heal with her son's life and now, Emma had unwittingly started to stitch the wound closed. It had happened without her looking for it and now it was all on the verge of crumbling to dust.
Again.
"Mayor Mills?"
Regina jerked in her chair and glared at the nurse who'd disturbed her. The shadows on the walls had shifted and her back ached. How long had she been sitting here?
"Yes?"
"Dr Whale is ready to speak with you now."
Regina nodded curtly, ignoring the jumpy young man as he practically fled her presence. She noticed that the blinds were now up, but a curtain was drawn around her son's bed. Her stomach twisted. Inside, the doctor stood next to a monitor and muttered to himself as his eyes drifted between it and a clipboard. She pushed her shoulders back and approached him.
"Dr Whale. How's my son?"
Confused and frustrated, grey eyes turned on the mayor and then softened slightly. "Well…"
His words became meaningless as they told Regina what she already knew – Henry's sudden illness was mysterious; they had no idea yet what had caused it; he was stable for now but showing worrying signs of further deterioration; without knowing the cause, the prognosis was grim.
Her eyes drifted over to the bed for the first time and absorbed the sight of her child, where tubes and wires struggled to keep him alive. She pictured Snow in a cell but didn't feel her usual jolt of pleasure. She recalled her early victories over the birth-mother who dared to challenge her but fell flat at the memory of every little manipulation. She thought about Jefferson's desperation to have his daughter back and the apple he'd helped her retrieve with her last ounce of magic and winced.
For the first time in decades, she felt the consequences of her actions. This was her fault. Henry was going to die because of her.
Mixed chattering greeted the sheriff as she entered the station and wandered into the tiny bull-pen. Hank stood, looking twitchy after his overstimulated morning, and muttered to himself as an irate Jefferson demanded to know why he was locked up and Emma's stand-in, Ricardo, tried in vain to get clear answers out of the pair. Relief lit his features as he saw her enter and he sat back on his desk with a sigh.
"Sheriff," the deputy greeted in an aside and held out a notepad for her perusal. He noted the extra tightness around her eyes and suddenly remembered that Henry Mills was her son too. If she wanted quick answers, he didn't think she would like what they'd learned so far. "He's insisting that he doesn't know why we've arrested him."
Emma nodded absently. Of course, he was pleading his innocence; how many times had she been caught red handed and yet she'd denied all knowledge of any wrong doing? It was the deputy's next hissed words that really caught her attention though…
"He's asking for Graham – Sheriff Humbert," he added at the widening of green eyes.
"Graham?" Emma parroted. "Thanks. Take a break, but don't go far. I can't stay long," she mumbled and wandered over to the cell without reading the notes. Jefferson's manic gaze tracked her through the bars and shone with confusion. After releasing Hank to return to the fair, Emma turned to the prisoner and tried to find a twitch of a smile or some other sign of deception, but nothing shouted at her. "Tell me what happened at the fair," she said after a beat.
"Where's the sheriff?" The Hatter asked warily. He could see the badge hooked on her jeans, but he didn't understand why she was there. Who was this woman?
Emma took a long breath and considered her answer for a moment. "He's not available right now. Answer the question, please."
Jefferson's gaze flicked around jerkily before shifting back to the blonde. What is the queen up to now? he thought. This was an interesting world the she had brought them to. His head was filled with new memories: technologies that didn't exist in the Enchanted Forest, foods and fashions, cultures and histories, the structure of the town and the new names of all the people. Yet, he recalled every part of his life before – in his hovel, with his sweet Grace. His hat. The Evil Queen's treachery. Wonderland. He'd woken in this new place with the knowledge that twenty-eight years would have to pass before Snow White's child came to release them all from their prison. So far as he knew, this woman, who demanded answers he didn't have, was not part of the scenario in his head. If she came with the curse then it had to be by the queen's request.
"If ye come at the behest of the queen, be ye Jubjub, Bandersnatch or Jabberwock?" he snickered, his hands gesticulating wildly and head tilting to figure her out. She didn't seem amused. Even better. "Ye be not Alice."
Emma's eyes rolled hard and a hand reached up to rub at her temples. Those names niggled at very old, childhood memories, but she couldn't immediately place them. "Look, at the moment I don't much care how long you stay in this cell. A boy is in the hospital," she added in the hope that it might curb the dramatics. "Do you plan on telling me anything useful?"
It did seem to work a little; Jefferson's face became more serious and he leant against the bars, slowing his erratic movements. "That depends. What does Her Majesty want with me now? She took my child and my freedom. Her mother took my head and my sanity. I don't know anything about a fair and until the Saviour arrives, I have nothing left to give."
"The Saviour?" the sheriff repeated anxiously as less sceptical parts of her brain began to wake up. "Who is…?"
The Hatter jumped away from the bars as if he'd been stung. "I'll not betray the child to the queen's lackey."
Urgh, make sense! the blonde pleaded internally. She pictured Henry lying in his hospital bed and began to panic, but thinking of her son brought back all of his theories about fairy tales and magic. She felt the truth in Jefferson's words when he denied knowledge of the fair, so that was a dead-end, but Henry would want other answers from this confused maniac. 'Her mother' also intrigued Emma. How often had she wondered about Regina's family, her upbringing, but failed to elicit information out of the friendly locals? Could the two be linked? Was Regina 'the queen' he spoke of? Suddenly, she didn't want to know.
Green eyes narrowed on the prisoner. "That's not what I wanted to ask." He waved, gesturing for her to continue and she gritted her teeth just long enough to stop from snapping at his antics. "This Queen you mentioned…" Her fist clenched out of sight and an inner voice chanted, please don't say Regina, please don't say Regina, please don't say Regina… "Does she have a name?"
It was Jefferson's turn to appear confused. "Are you not from our world? Do you not know the Evil Queen?"
Even as Emma's eyebrow rose, her stomach sank. "The Evil Queen?"
"We were all invited to her tea party!" he sing-songed, recovering his earlier drama. "Out of the forest and into the fire. Twenty-eight years to wait. Then on a wood-pile – Evil's pyre. The saviour ignites our hate."
That sinking feeling intensified. "What is her name? The queen?" Not Regina. Not Regina… But now Emma knew what was coming.
The Hatter pressed his forehead against the bars, making his mad eyes pop even more, exposing the whites of his eyes. He'd been a young man when King Leopold married again, but had picked up most of the story on his travels. "Cora Mills rose from obscurity and cloaked herself in power and greed. She would be so proud of her daughter's legacy had she not been banished to Wonderland. The Queen of Hearts loves to speak of her creation. Little-known princess, step-mother to Snow White, Evil Queen… Mayor Mills… So many faces." Curiously, he watched the blood drain from the blonde's face. "Who are you?" he asked finally.
Reality crashed down on the sheriff. She felt Regina's hands on her skin, lips pulling erotic sounds from her throat; the mayor's scent, the sound of her ragged breath, the feel of their hearts beating the same lively dance…
She saw the brunette's hesitant attempts to reconnect with a distant child; the desperation to be loved, the jealousy when it was given so freely to another, the fears that so quickly turned to spite…
She recalled the sneers, the hatred, the schemes and manipulations to destroy a mild-mannered teacher…
She allowed the picture to merge together and understood.
Emma's reality crumbled. Her heart tore down the middle. She understood.
"I'm the saviour," she whispered into the sudden chill in the air.
A beat, and then, "Oh frabjous day!"
Emma's journey back to the hospital could have easily ended in disaster. She was angry, hurt, distracted and overwhelmed. Twice, she almost ran side-on into another car as she sped along busy streets in her cruiser.
There had been no point staying to question Jefferson further. He didn't remember the fair. From the way he talked, she had to guess that he remembered nothing since the beginning of… the curse… which meant that he didn't know Henry or any of the events since Emma's arrival in Storybrooke.
"The fucking curse," she muttered to herself as the hospital came into view.
Regina's behaviour began to make much more sense now that Emma could put it into context. Even if the whole bizarre scenario was ludicrous, there was too much logic in it to ignore now. Her eyes were wide open and there was no going back, no matter how hard she tried to tell herself that magic and fairy tales were not possible. The impossible had become her reality. There was no escaping it.
The mayor was pacing by Henry's bed when the sheriff stormed into the room and shanghaied her into a closet.
"What the hell do you think you're doing!?" Regina's irate and indignant tone erupted the moment the door shut behind them, blocking out prying eyes and ears. She took one look at Emma's fuming expression and swallowed hard. "Let me out," she insisted, though she could feel her authority draining rapidly away.
"What did you throw at Jefferson?" Emma asked without preamble. She blocked the brunette's attempt to move past her to the door and stared the mayor down.
"Who…?"
"Don't even start that game," Emma growled. "I've been looking for him for a while. When I saw him approaching you at the fair, I got worried," she scoffed, suddenly angry with herself. "I actually wanted to protect you!"
Regina closed her eyes and held her breath, willing away the pricking at her eyes.
"Just before Ava screamed, you reached into your pocket, and then when you saw Henry, you threw something in Jefferson's face. Now he doesn't remember anything." Heat built in Emma's chest and she reached out to grab Regina's shoulders. "He can't tell us what he did to Henry because you did something to his memory!" She watched the flinch, the realisation and sorrow. She almost allowed herself to feel sorry for this broken woman. "The curse. It's true… isn't it?"
The sheriff's words reached the mayor on a jagged whisper. If they weren't stood so close, if she wasn't so accustomed to Emma's voice when it cracked, she could have mistaken her meaning. It was past time for denials now though. Henry was dying. Emma – the Saviour – had realised her place. Regina felt her fate upon her. "Yes," she whispered back.
A choking sound fell from the blonde's mouth and her grip on the mayor's arms tightened. She'd pressed the brunette up against a filing cabinet, leaving Regina with nowhere to retreat as Emma sank forward and dropped her head against a hollow chest. Emma's breaths came out ragged and wet as she mourned for the loss of their illicit, almost-relationship. She hadn't realised until now just how much hope she'd invested in being able to chip away at Regina's walls until her lover gave into the pull that she was sure they both felt.
The mayor stood, frozen. A large part of her longed to wrap her arms around Emma, but she knew instinctively that it would be a mistake. She had no right to comfort this woman when she was the cause for the blonde's pain. Any possibility of experiencing affection was dying in her arms – again. Emma was letting go, giving up. The family she'd glimpsed and shunned in panic was about to disappear forever, but her son's life still hung in the balance and it gave her something on which to focus.
"It was a memory potion," the mayor admitted, her words emotionless but clear as decades of practise drove away any sign of weakness. "The Hatter was threatening to curse Henry or… or you. I couldn't let that stand."
Emma dragged the shattered pieces of herself together as best she could. Not looking at Regina, she pushed off the compact body and retreated as far as possible in the confined space. Furiously, she wiped the tears from her eyes and then cleared her throat. "And what had you done to him, huh?" she asked, her tone heavy with accusation. She saw a brief flicker of eyes drifting back to memories and shook her head. "Henry doesn't deserve this, but maybe you do."
Regina recoiled. The Hatter, Frankenstein and Rumpelstiltskin had worked to twist her into a monster. Whether it was his intention or not, Jefferson was lying in a bed of his own making as far as she was concerned. "You know nothing about me!"
"Not for a lack of trying, Madam Mayor!" the sheriff spat back. "I gave you every chance to confide in me."
Brown eyes darkened with incredulity. She laughed humourlessly. "And what would you have done with the sordid tales of my past? Pity for the Evil Queen? Would you have held me close and told me to have hope? Offered your undying loyalty if I mended my wicked ways?"
"I would have listened," Emma insisted softly.
Once neatly coiffed hair shook with its owner's disbelief. "You would have accused me of making it all up. Or, if any part of you had believed me, you would have raged against the injustice of the life I'd unwittingly thrust upon you."
The blonde closed her eyes and took a long breath. It was possible. Even now, as she though that she could have helped Regina out of her darkness, she thought about the parents who'd sacrificed their daughter with the hope that they would one day be reunited. "Maybe," she admitted. "I guess now, we'll never know." A new mask fell over the mayor's face – one of cold resignation and defeat. "How do we help Henry? What 'curse' are we talking about now?"
Reluctantly, the mayor filled the sheriff in on the apple she'd retrieved with the last of her magic and Jefferson's help; the promise she'd been unable to keep and the Mad Hatter's threat. Emma didn't ask why she'd needed the apple in the first place and she stopped short of offering up an explanation. Their personal battle came second to their son's life.
In some strange way, Regina enjoyed the active few hours that followed. She hated Rumpel's superiority, walking the path to her own downfall and the growing distance in green eyes, but she'd long learned to take satisfaction where she could and found it in the ease with which she and Emma worked together. She revelled in the sheriff's competence and took comfort in the knowledge that Henry would have the life he'd wished for.
There was no way left for her to win, not when it meant losing her son, but she wouldn't beg or plead for forgiveness and she wouldn't apologise for being the monster they'd made. The monster she'd grown to trust. With a dragon defeated, the Saviour's confidence shored and true love's kiss raising a child from the grip of death, Regina whispered her final words to her son and hoped that one day he would believe them. Her eyes slid over Emma's but there was no time to offer anything before her departure.
The weakness came upon her the moment she stepped outside and saw the growing realisation amongst the town's people. Still, she managed to wrangle her legs into movement and reached her car before anyone thought to challenge her. She drove past abandoned vehicles and bewildered figures until the streets grew quiet and she pulled into her own driveway. Mostly on autopilot, she found her way into the house and up to her son's room. It hit her harder then, the loss – knowing that she was completely alone and hated once more. Her hands found Henry's pillow and clutched it to her chest as sobs wracked her body.
Not used to crying any more, after only a few minutes, the tears stuck in her throat and refused to fall. A familiar prickle raised the hairs on her arms and Regina released the pillow to wander to the window. A cloud – large, purple and rolling rapidly across the town – it called to her and a dark smile pulled at her lips.
She was hurrying downstairs, a plan half-formed in her mind, when doubt began to creep back in. Her feet slowed, carrying her down the last few steps and through the house until she spotted the root of her uncertainty. There, on the kitchen table – held under a glass jar and missed on her dazed return home – was half of an apple.
Half of the apple.
After finding a way to steal the weapon in the first place, Jefferson had managed to return with what he hadn't used and left it here to taunt her. Or perhaps, to remind her of what her revenge had almost cost. The malice and drive behind her thoughts fizzled out almost as quickly as they'd appeared. What good would it do to challenge Emma for custody of Henry when no one would support her? With the truth out in the open, she'd lost the power that came with any legal documents. She had no friends and no leverage unless she was willing to cut a deal with Gold, which she knew would backfire spectacularly if she tried.
Looking around the room, she thought of the years spent with her son and then the reluctant evenings with Emma added to the mix. It would have been foolish to hope – the sheriff would have discovered her secrets anyway and, despite what the blonde thought, Regina knew that she would never be understood or forgiven. Somehow, she wished that she'd given it a chance anyway, just to feel what it was really like to be part of that special bond again, before her life was turned upside-down.
Feeling the dream dissolve, her hands reached out and she lifted the jar. The apple had been cut cleanly down the middle, leaving no evidence of Snow's teeth marks and only an empty reminder of the piece used to harm her son. The message was clear – this was her half. Her move. What would she do with it? Strike back in another futile effort to win a prize that would disappear when she was in reach, or turn it on herself?
Suicide had never appealed to her much. She was too bold, too proud, too angry to close life's door completely. She thirsted to feel more. At first, love and family then later, hate and vengeance. Oblivion was too final, but this? Eternal sleep? Usually, she had no patience for poetry, but her thoughts were slow now without something to fight for.
She wouldn't think of the possibility of waking. She wouldn't consider the who or why of a potential rescuer. Without further thought, she picked up the apple and found a napkin to hold it before popping it into her purse.
A new plan began to form in her mind. She'd always known that a mob of angry citizens might descend upon her if the curse broke. She'd been ready to meet them with everything she had left, but clawing her way through torches and pitch forks no longer appealed to her. That cloud of magic had Gold's fingers all over it. People would be cautious for a while but once their mob mentality kicked in, they would come calling. In her nightmares, they bound her to a pyre and then Henry and Emma appeared to twist the knife before she was set alight. She wouldn't go out like that. If she was going to lose everything, she was going to do it her way.
There was no time to waste, Regina thought as she strode back through the house and entered her bedroom. She stripped off her jacket and top before reaching into the back of her closet for the blue, silk shirt that had once been wrapped around Emma Swan's body. She stared at it for a moment, remembering the smooth contours of that skin, before shrugging it on. Next, she stopped in Henry's room and found the hand print he'd made for her during his first year at kindergarten. Again, she paused to linger on fond memories, but when her throat threatened to collapse with the strain of holding in more tears, she closed the door and drifted downstairs.
It was very little to show for almost twenty-nine years in this small town. Most of what she treasured had only come in the last decade, and a few more from the past few months, but Regina knew that if she stayed to consider anything else, she might find herself unable to proceed. Either by her own wandering thoughts and tactics, or vigilantes, who wouldn't give her a choice.
With her foot heavy like lead on the accelerator, she tore through town, ignoring the few pointing fingers and shouts, out to the cemetery. There was nowhere to hide her car really, but she parked out of direct view of the road and continued up the well-trodden path to her father's crypt.
"Hi, Daddy," she muttered tearily as she closed and locked the door behind her. An odd pang of guilt hit her as she realised that she hadn't brought any flowers and then immediately, she shook her head for being so sentimental and foolish.
The coffin moved aside as smoothly as usual and she stepped down into the dark with a growing feeling of ease. Nothing had changed down here. No one would find her – for a while anyway – and she could almost feel that she was in control again. Passing the wall of beating hearts without a glance, she found the room she needed most. Behind a heavy curtain of the plushest velvet, lay another coffin. Only once had she ever ventured into this room to see her beloved Daniel again. It hurt too much to see him in this state knowing that he would never wake up, but now she craved the comfort of his company. If she couldn't be with Henry or Emma, then she wanted to spend her last waking moments with her first love.
Regina's hands braced her body against the table before her eyes drifted down to look upon the last person who'd wanted to protect her. He'd paid the ultimate price for loving her. Her father had too. And now her son had come close.
"This is for the best," she whispered to the enchanted glass and the memory of the person within. Her eyes traced his face and sorrow pulled at her mask. "I found something good for a while here. I have a son… Had a son. Named for you and Daddy." Regina sucked in a breath and felt the trickle of more tears on her cheeks. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling, closed them and dragged her sleeves across the wet tracks. "And I had a taste of something else," she continued softly. "Something terrible and beautiful. But it wasn't for me. It's never for me."
Self-pity wasn't something she gave into often. Her mother's voice crushed weakness when it rose within her – when it looked like compassion, affection or love. It was quiet now though, leaving her to her misery. She reached into her purse and removed Henry's hand print.
"You would have doted on him, and he would have loved you." She sniffed wetly and then shuddered as a sob caught her unawares. "I didn't even teach him to ride. I should have taught him to ride."
Backing away from the coffin, Henry's tiny hand held tightly in her own, her free hand reached into her purse and pulled out the wrapped apple. She shook it and let the napkin fall open, revealing the still shiny, red peel and juicy flesh. Surrounded by the remnants of those closest to her heart, Regina found her resolve; she sank her teeth into the fruit and closed her eyes.
Mayor Mills' body crumpled the second she bit down and released the curse. Her legs gave way, letting her knees hit the dusty concrete before the rest of her followed and sprawled, in a rather undignified fashion, along the length of one wall. No longer under control from an active mind, her hands released their hold, leaving the apple to roll out of her grip and the fragile clay in the other hand to crack down the centre.
There the Evil Queen lay. On the cold, unyielding floor, surrounded by all things dead and decaying. A fitting end, some might say, for such a tyrant. Yet out there in Storybrooke, two people in particular would soon begin to question her disappearance with concern for her wellbeing rather than theirs.
How much dust would she gather, unaware, before more sinister characters narrowed down her location? Would Emma or Henry worry enough to start a search before that happened?
Whatever came next, Regina Mills had no more control over her fate.