Work Text:
Regina decides that it’s partly her punishment, too. She’d been the only one to stand in favour of letting Zelena live (among a crowd of the Good Guys – she’s really trying not to choke on the irony of it all), and despite the tying up of certain loose ends, even she doubts there’ll ever be an equal ground between herself and Storybrooke’s finest bloodline.
What that all means, then, is that three months after being thrown in a jail cell, Zelena is deported to the back bedroom on Regina’s second floor. Her locket has been destroyed, and despite the tension between them (Regina doesn’t trust her, and the feeling is very mutual), she’s agreed to keep her under house arrest.
Henry spends the majority of his days at home, and visits Emma at weekends, (which means visiting Mary Margaret and David and three month old Daniel, because Emma still hasn’t found an apartment to move into). With things finally looking like they might be calming down in Storybrooke, Robin spends less time patrolling the forest and more time at the manor, with Roland teetering about his feet.
Her home has never been more filled with life, and yet when Zelena arrives the entire place is silent.
“Pardon the cuffs,” David tells her with an unnecessary shove of her newly freed hands. “All part of the procedure.”
Zelena sneers at him over her shoulder, but rubs a hand against her left wrist when she takes her first cautionary step inside the manor, unchained. “Do I get the top bunk, sis?” she asks, eyes flitting between the doorway to the front sitting room, the doorway to the kitchen, and the stairs. “I am the eldest, after all.”
For her part, Regina manages to repress an eye roll. “Thank you, David,” she says, and it’s as much of a dismissal that David leaves without being asked, casting a look Zelena’s way, after telling Regina to call the station – should she face any trouble. “You’re on the second floor,” Regina tells her once he’s gone. “Come.”
And so up they go, ascending first the main staircase and then the second, around the back of the house, which has its own door and small, private hallway. The second level isn’t used as much as the lower two, and keeps four bedrooms, a spacious kitchen, and more sitting and bathrooms than one person really needs.
“You can choose whichever bedroom you like, but this one has been arranged for you,” Regina tells her as they enter the largest bedroom on this level. “The bathrooms and kitchen are all fully stocked, and I’ll do your grocery shopping if you make a list of all the items you need.” She’s walking further into the room to adjust the curtains, and Zelena just stares at her, incredulous.
“You’re going to keep me up here like some kind of pet hamster – tucked out of the way?” Regina just turns to her, deadpan, and Zelena steps out of the room with a huff.
It’s bigger than the jail cell, she supposes, crossing the kitchen and opening a refrigerator door, but it’s a cell just the same. The benefits of this one, she supposes, are better food and full reign over the television remote.
When Regina leaves her twenty minutes later, she locks the door to the staircase with magic, and the entire second floor falls deathly silent.
# # # #
“So she’s staying here,” Henry says, deadpan, “upstairs, in her own room. Like some kind of house guest. What the hell, mom?”
Regina tsks at him, and would probably reprimand him properly if she wasn’t busy cleaning the dried chocolate ice cream from around Roland’s mouth with a wet wipe. Instead, she says, “She’s powerless, Henry, she can’t get out, she can’t hurt anybody else up there. And less of your language, thank you.”
“It’s not swearing,” Henry says, rolling his eyes, but doesn’t care to repeat the word when his mom sends him that look. “This is so not right. She should be in jail still, not with an entire floor of our home to herself.”
Watching quietly by the side-lines, Robin frowns and purses his lips. His eyes go to Regina, waiting for her response, because if he’s honest, he can’t entirely understand why she’s agreed to keep Zelena with her in the first place.
“There’s no room at the jail, Henry,” Regina says, patience dwindling, as she stands up again to dispose of the soiled wet wipe. “Storybrooke doesn’t have the facilities to keep a long-term criminal; I never designed it that way.” Partly because the curse had never allowed any permanent pests within her perfectly constructed town, and partly because, in a moment of self-doubt, she’d understood that she’d be the first person going into a place like that, should the curse break and she be powerless.
“The asylum,” Henry persists, dodging Roland who makes a bee-line for the stool by his side, and who feels very adult when he sits quietly upon it, listening to their conversation as though he understands it.
Wiping her hands on a dishtowel, Regina turns to him, shaking her head. “A second start means a second start in all departments.” Henry looks ready to argue, but Regina sends him a look that calls for silence. “She’s entirely contained up there,” she tells him, losing the dishtowel and taking a step towards him, hands on his shoulders. “You’re perfectly safe here, but,” and she stalls, watching Henry’s brow lift hopefully, “you may stay elsewhere if you’d prefer it.”
Henry sighs, the hopeful expression instantly dissipating back into his frustration. “It’s fine,” he says, stepping away from her and heading for the door. “But if she gets out, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He leaves after stealing an apple from the fruit bowl, Roland quick on his tail.
Exasperated, Regina turns to Robin, but the look on his face is neither sympathetic nor amused. “Oh, not you and all.”
“You can’t blame the lad,” Robin says, leaning back into the kitchen counters. “You have the wicked witch living just above his room.”
“My sister,” Regina says deliberately, “is under control.”
“Is that what you think? She’s not a dog, Regina, and she’s not stupid.” Robin sighs at the look she gives him, but pushes away from the counter, standing up a little straighter. “I’m just saying, be careful.”
“I know what I’m doing,” Regina tells him. “I don’t need your concern.”
“Well, you have it, regardless,” is all Robin says, and that’s the last they say on the matter until after dinner, when the boys are upstairs playing Mario Karts and Robin is curled around Regina where they’ve ended up on the largest sofa in the front sitting room. The TV is turned down low and Robin’s hand is beneath her untucked shirt, fingers tracing lines across her stomach.
“What do you think she’s doing up there?” is whispered just above her ear, and Regina’s gaze flickers from the television screen to the ceiling.
“I can’t imagine,” she says, though that’s not entirely truthful.
# # # #
“I took the liberty,” Regina says, and oh, she’s proud, but only a little, because Zelena is wearing one of the dresses she’d picked out for her the week before, “to pick up some greenery.”
“There’s that sense of humour again,” Zelena says from the kitchen, back turned, where she’s stirring a cup of English Breakfast.
Regina sets the three potted plants down on the breakfast table, turning them so that the majority of their open flowers face outwards into the kitchen. “David will be by again today,” she says, glancing up once Zelena has turned around. “I’ll send him straight up.”
“I’ll be waiting,” Zelena says over the rim of her teacup, blowing along its steaming surface. Regina’s eyeing the closest stool at the breakfast table, and for a second Zelena thinks she’s going to take a seat. “The kettle’s just boiled,” she says, almost reproachful, and Regina’s eyes snap up to hers.
“I’ve left Henry waiting,” and she almost even looks apologetic, before she catches herself, “we’re about to have lunch.” She doesn’t elaborate that lunch will be take-out from Granny’s, that she’s waiting for Robin and Roland to arrive with, though she almost wants to.
Later, after David’s check-up and Henry’s departure to the Charmings’ apartment for the weekend, Regina makes her way to the blocked off staircase on the first floor. She’s in her nightgown and robe, and not entirely sure what she’s doing, or why, when she waves a hand over the door and disarms its enchanted lock. She’ll probably regret it, she thinks, but the rest of the house has been sealed and protected. There’s little damage Zelena can do that will be entirely permanent, though Regina makes sure to lock her own bedroom door after her, once she retires to bed.
In the morning, she awakes to a new day, and figures that her brief lax in judgement the previous night couldn’t have been all bad. The house is still standing, and the door to the staircase left just barely ajar, as though her sister had wanted to let her know that she’d heard her unlocking it, and been out to investigate.
She takes her morning coffee to the breakfast table along with this week’s newspaper. After a bowl of oatmeal, she moves around the ground level of the house, investigating. She knows the rooms well enough to notice a few minor changes to the positions of her ornaments, and surprises herself with a sharp chortle when she realises that Zelena has stolen more than one bottle of wine from the rack.
When she returns upstairs again to get ready for the day, she remains in her bedroom with the door open for as long as she can, waiting to see if her sister will make an appearance. By the time noon rolls around, she’s forced to give up her game in order to make an appearance at work.
She closes the door to the second-story staircase before she leaves, locking it magically. What she misses in her haste to exit the manor is the woman perched at the top of the stairs, having been waiting to see how long her little sister would last before locking her in her cage again.
# # # #
“Henry, I said no.”
“She’s my aunt,” and he’s hot on her heels, practically chasing her up the staircase, “I have a right to know her.”
Regina stops at the top, turns to him, incredulous. “You want to know her?” she asks. “You want to know her? You’ve complained about her being here since day one.”
“You said it’s safe up there – that she can’t hurt me.”
“And she can’t,” Regina sighs, because that’s just not the point. “Henry—”
“Mom.”
And, gods, why did he have to age a full year without her in New York?
“Ten minutes,” she tells him carefully, “and I’m staying with you.” Henry groans, clearly about to protest, but Regina holds her palm up. “I’m staying.”
Seeing that she’ll not change her mind on this, Henry says, “Fine. So, let’s go.”
Regina’s never had a problem with inviting herself upstairs, unannounced, but this time she has Henry with her. Zelena cooks her own meals up here, does her own cleaning. There are sharp knives and cleaning bottles filled with all kinds of poison. It’s never her own life that she fears for up here, but she understands captivity more than most, and the desperation it can drive you to.
“Just wait here,” Regina tells him, voice quiet, when they reach the top of the staircase. But despite her warning, Henry doesn’t wait, only steps on behind her, curious to see how the wicked witch has been living up here for so many weeks, undisturbed.
When they happen upon her, Zelena is unprepared. It’s not exactly what Henry had been expecting, seeing her semi-wrapped in a blanket, on her back across a sofa, flicking through the television channels. She stops when she sees Regina, and starts when her eyes settle on Henry, propelling herself up and onto her feet. She runs a noncommittal hand through her hair, then straightens.
“I wasn’t expecting you.”
Her eyes are so wide, almost fearful, as they settle on the fourteen year old boy who no longer hides behind his mother. “I’ve come for your shopping list,” Regina says, ignoring the way Zelena’s eyes move to hers, and the look on her face that is as good as asking her what she should do.
“Right,” she says, finally. “On the table.”
Regina holds her gaze a moment longer, then turns to Henry. Zelena catches the looks that pass between them like a silent conversation, and threads her fingers together, fidgeting. It’s just her and the boy, shortly after, in what apparently takes Regina almost five minutes to locate the list of needed groceries.
Henry’s eyes flit between Zelena and the television screen, until he finally asks, “What are you watching?”
Zelena looks back at the TV, shaking her head. “I wasn’t, really.” When Henry doesn’t speak again, she’s forced to say, “A cooking program – they were making pulled pork.”
Henry nods his head. “I like that.”
“I was hoping to try it some time,” Zelena says with an awkward smile, because it feels like she’s actually having a conversation with her nephew, and she doesn’t know what to do. “It looks good.”
She’s wringing her hands together and looking towards the kitchen, because how long does it take to find a goddamn piece of paper, when Henry speaks again. “You were going to kill baby Daniel.” Zelena’s eyes flit to his, and there’s a strained expression there. Henry’s uncertain if you can call it apology exactly, but there’s inarguable guilt. “And my mom.”
After a moment, Zelena just nods her head. “I was.”
“I wouldn’t have been born, my mom probably never would have met my dad, my grandparents might never have even crossed paths,” he persists. “You don’t even have any excuses for all of that?”
“Are there any excuses for that kind of behaviour, Henry?”
It sends a chill down his spine, and he doesn’t end up answering. But later, once they’ve left and his mom is shopping for groceries, Henry sits outside the door to the second-story staircase, throwing a baseball ball against it and catching it as it bounces back. He wonders if Zelena actually hears it, and whether or not it annoys her as much as it does his mother.
# # # #
Months pass, and the door to the staircase gets left unlocked more and more. Regina has as good as escape-proofed every single door and window within the manor, with extra protection surrounding her room and Henry’s, as well as the one Roland often finds himself asleep in when the Hoods end up staying for the night.
Robin thinks she’s taking this ‘second chance’ business too far in giving Zelena so much freedom, and a part of Regina is waiting for her sister to mess up and prove to the rest of Storybrooke how wrong she was to save her life. For now, however, life is relatively normal with her criminal sister living above them.
If Regina is honest, it’s Henry’s involvement that has her making the decision to keep the lock off the staircase door while he’s still home. She returns home slightly late from work one day, only to find him leaning against it, talking to himself – until she hears the muffled voice on the other end of the door. Henry eyes her carefully, and after Zelena’s initial, “Henry?” she remains silent, too, suspecting her younger sister’s return.
When it gets to the point where she has to tell Henry, more than once, that it’s time for him to say goodnight and go to bed, she takes the lock off the door. (She’s not a complete idiot, though, and places a protection charm over Henry, at which he rolls his eyes the entire way through – just in case.)
Zelena is a relatively silent house guest, and Regina rarely actually sees her around. Zelena will seek her out sometimes, almost casually, when she is particularly starved of conversation. She even takes to leaving her shopping list pinned to the downstairs refrigerator with a magnet.
Regina catches Henry spending time with her more often that she’d anticipated, whether he’s pestering her for information about Oz, or attempting to teach her how to play his video games, and if her sister hadn’t tried to wipe the both of them from existence it would be almost… sweet.
Robin is not so forgiving, and there’s a persisting argument that eventually sends Regina home late one day, slamming doors and venting. It’s already past midnight, and she’d ended up stomping all the way home from the woods, too angry to simply teleport. Zelena is awake when she arrives, and staring at her partly cautious, partly amused, as Regina comes storming into the kitchen.
Regina takes one look at her and stops short, before throwing her purse down on the table and slipping out of her jacket. She leaves it over the back of a stool, and doesn’t ask Zelena if she wants a cup of tea before she begins boiling water.
“Do you – want to talk about it?” Zelena eventually asks from her seat at the table, after Regina has set a teacup down in front of her and taken a seat at the opposite end with a mug of decaf coffee.
Regina stares at her, deadpan, before she realises she’s serious. “Talk?”
“That’s what sisters do,” Zelena answers, failing to add the very necessary, I think.
“I don’t need to talk about it.” She takes a sip of her coffee and burns her tongue. “It’s partly your fault, anyway, not that that makes it any of your business.”
“Ah,” Zelena sighs. “Ruining your happiness from inside my prison cell. If I’d have known it was so easy, I’d have backed off a lot sooner.” Regina sends her a look that lets her know how much she really doesn’t appreciate that, and Zelena huffs again, pursing her lips. “Was it him? Your archer friend?”
Regina looks away, and Zelena arches a knowing eyebrow, drawing her teacup closer to her.
“I suppose ‘friend’ isn’t the right word for it,” she says, resting her elbow on the table, and her chin in her hand. “Or is it?”
“We’re—” Regina shakes her head, frowning. “Involved.”
Even Zelena smirks at that. “Right. And he’s not so happy with your treatment of me – or, more specifically, my being alive at all?”
“Not exactly,” Regina frowns, and hell, she needs to talk this out with someone – if just to vent. “He supported my decision to save your life, he just – doesn’t trust you. And frankly, I don’t blame him. You did almost cause the death of his son.”
Zelena looks away at that, taking the teacup into both hands and blowing across its misty surface. “I’d apologise, but he never seems to be down here while I am.”
“You can’t exactly blame him for that,” Regina counters, and Zelena at least looks more than slightly guilty. “It’s more than him not trusting you, though – it’s as though he doesn’t trust me.” At Zelena’s expectant look, she elaborates, “Not to get myself killed.”
Zelena snorts faintly and takes a sip of her tea. “As though I’m such a threat, without magic.”
“Exactly,” Regina sighs, running a hand through her hair. Her coffee is cool enough to drink without blistering her tongue, now, and so she takes a mouthful. “I’m not the kind of person who needs saving. I don’t need – all of that.”
“Hm.”
Regina’s eyes lift at the noise, frowning. “What?”
“Well,” Zelena begins, drawing the word out, “did you ever consider that he’s not trying to save you?” Regina’s frown deepens, and so Zelena continues, rolling her eyes, “You had your heart back, what, a few months before I came to live here? The man’s probably worried sick that you’re about to lose it again.”
It’s Regina’s turn to roll her eyes this time, and she does so over the rim of her mug, taking another mouthful of coffee. “He has no need to worry. I’d never put my son or myself in harm’s way if I knew there was a possibility of you…” She trails off, not needing to say it, and Zelena dips her head in understanding.
“I wouldn’t exactly say he doubts you – you’ve faced me with my magic, and we both know I was so much better at it than you.” Regina accepts the jab, unimpressed. “He knows what you’re capable of.”
Regina sends her a semi-pleading look. “If you’re such an expert on the mind of Robin Hood, please, enlighten me,” she says, which just leaves Zelena gaping.
“Gods, you are dense,” she says, and looks like laughing (and probably would, if Regina didn’t send her a look). “He’s smitten with you, Regina. He’s head over heels. And here you are, moving the woman who almost succeeded in wiping you from existence into your home.”
Regina stares blankly down into her coffee, her anger suddenly gone. “That doesn’t excuse his behaviour,” she finally grumbles out, “if you’re right.”
Zelena snorts her answer, taking a final sip from her tea before she moves to dispose of it down the sink. “Invite him around,” she says from across the kitchen, rinsing out her teacup, “let me apologise to him in person.”
“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Your call,” Zelena tells her with a shrug, then exits the kitchen without saying goodnight.
# # # #
Zelena isn’t expecting guests, and yet her sister brings up the sheriff and an unfamiliar, nervous looking man on her first visit of the day.
“Zelena,” Regina says, “this is Dr. Archie Hopper.” Zelena takes one look at the man and turns to Regina, eyebrow raised. “He’s here to help you.”
“I’m not sick, doctor,” Zelena says, setting her jaw, and Regina rolls her eyes.
“I’m not that kind of doctor,” Hopper attempts, stuttering only once, and then takes a step forward. He glances back to David, whose subtle head nod is apparently enough to steel the man’s confidence. “I’m here to listen to you, and help you sort through some of the things that have happened.”
“You’re paying this man,” Zelena says as she turns to Regina, hand on hip, “to sit and listen to me talk?”
“Trust me; it does more help than you’d think.” She invites Hopper into the room, where Zelena watches, sneering, as he makes himself comfortable against her cushions.
“And what’s he here for?” With a tip of her head, Zelena gestures to David.
It’s Archie who answers, with a wry, “for my protection,” as he adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “But, don’t worry, David won’t be listening in.”
After that, Regina sits downstairs and waits. After Hopper and David have left, she ventures upstairs to find Zelena stoically brewing tea. She looks quiet and contemplative, but doesn’t make a comment about never wanting to see Archie Hopper again.
Regina marks her first session of therapy down as a success.
# # # #
“You want me to forgive the woman who was almost responsible for my son’s death?”
“I’m not asking you to forgive her,” Regina sighs, “I’m asking you to sit through one civilised dinner with her, and me, and the boys.” Robin doesn’t look like he’s about to agree to it, and so Regina draws her hand down his chest, swaying into him. “Please?”
And, damnit, that might just be enough to break him.
Sighing, Robin looks away, shaking his head. “I don’t think I’m comfortable with having Roland around her.”
“I know,” Regina says. “I can tell you how much she’s changed all I want, but that won’t make you forget about the arrow that almost impaled your son. I understand.” She lifts her hand to the base of his throat, stroking the skin there with her thumb, while Robin looks down at her pleadingly. “But I – trust that she doesn’t want to bring any of us harm. If it would make you feel better, I can place a protection charm around Roland.”
“Our children shouldn’t need protection spells placing on them to withstand one family dinner,” Robin says, but his hands are on her hips, and then draw around to the small of her back to hold her against him. “If he asks to leave at any point—”
“You’re welcome to go whenever you like,” Regina tells him, slipping her hands over his shoulders. “If she speaks out of turn, I’ll ask her to leave. But I’ll do the same to you, just as quick.” Robin arches an eyebrow at that, but he’s almost amused. “I’ve been in her position before – as good as, anyway. She doesn’t need people bringing her down when she’s trying to be a better person.”
“I promise,” Robin sighs, but his mouth is gentle when he kisses her, and lingers for longer than initially intended. “I’ll be on my best behaviour, as long as she is,” he finally says after they’ve pulled back, and Regina nods to him in thanks.
“Thank you, this means a lot to me.”
Dinner isn’t a total disaster, at least. If nothing else, the food is perfect (though there’d been an almost devastating awkward silence after both Robin and Zelena complimented the lasagne within the same breath). Henry does most of the talking, and Roland, for the most part, comes out of his shell once half of his plate has been cleared.
It’s starting to feel a lot like a surreal meal with a dysfunctional family, and Regina, despite herself, revels in it.
As is only common nature for Storybrooke, however, the peace does not last long.
“Henry, take Roland upstairs, please.”
Henry looks across at his mother, wide-eyed, but she isn’t looking his way. She’s glaring between her sister and her boyfriend, who are both doing a stellar job of staring at their plates.
“Now, Henry.”
And, just like that, Henry Mills resigns himself to missing out on possibly the best argument he never saw. He’s halfway up the stairs already when his mom begins yelling, and Roland races the rest of the way up, saying, “They’re in big trouble now.”
Henry has to agree.
It’s later, much later, that Zelena comes creeping into the kitchen. Her sister is in her study and the boys are still upstairs, and Robin’s guard goes up as soon as he spots her in the doorway. “Don’t worry,” she says, holding her hands up, “I come in peace.” He doesn’t get the reference, which mildly annoys her. Henry would’ve appreciated that one, she thinks, folding her arms across her chest.
“I came to apologise,” she says, and it’s like speaking with stones in her throat; there’s barely any room for the words.
“For insulting me at dinner, or almost killing my son?” He looks more frustrated than angry, Zelena wants to say, and so slips into one of the seats at the breakfast table.
“Both, actually.” She lifts her eyes to Robin’s face and sees that he’s not going to join her at the table any time soon, but he also doesn’t look like he’s about to leave. “I know you probably don’t understand why I’m still here—”
“I understand,” Robin says. “But Regina’s forgiving you doesn’t mean I have – or will.”
“Regina hasn’t forgiven me – I’m her prisoner here, my cell’s just three floors bigger than the last one.”
“This wasn’t her only choice,” he tells her, thinking of all the alternatives Henry had provided, before he too began trusting his aunt. “She could have you thrown in a pit, if it suited her.”
“So quick to defend her, and yet you are aware of who my baby sister is, aren’t you?” It’s not entirely meant to provoke him; Robin intrigues her, in a way. The rest of Storybrooke might tolerate Regina for all the help that she’s provided, but Robin actually loves her. A part of her wonders if it’s possible – a part of her wonders if she’ll ever be given the same.
“I’m aware,” Robin agrees. “But she’s nothing like you.” Not anymore, he thinks, though Zelena as good as hears it.
“No,” Zelena agrees, and thinks better to verbally remind Robin that the only reason she’s here now is because Regina can relate. It’s not like either of them can ignore it, anyway. “I wonder if we both would have been different people, if we’d have been brought up together. My sister has a saying, did you know? Evil isn’t born, it’s made. Do you think that’s true?”
Robin hesitates. “Sometimes,” he says, “yes.”
“You believe it for Regina,” Zelena smirks, “but not for me?” She doesn’t need Robin’s answer, so just shakes her head. “Maybe I’ll change your mind,” she says instead, and then stands from the chair. “I am – truly sorry for putting your son’s life in danger.”
It’s not exactly heartfelt, but at least she appears sincere.
“This is where Regina would ask for me to apologise for what happened at dinner,” Robin says, casting his eyes to the doorway she’d disappeared through almost ten minute before. “But I’m not sorry, and I don’t forgive you.” He turns to Zelena, who hasn’t a slither of surprise on her face. “Things are – complicated. While I’m in Regina’s life, I’m also in yours.”
“It seems that way,” Zelena agrees.
“Then I’ll learn to tolerate you, for her sake.”
Zelena thinks of her sister, of her perilous relationship with Snow White, and says, “I doubt she’d ask you for more.”
# # # #
And so they’re not quite a family – but they are?
“I’m sorry,” Zelena says, words muffled from the hand that she’s hiding her face behind.
“Just take a deep breath,” Regina tells her, stretching her fingers around the steering wheel and watching the door to Granny’s. She can almost see the boys through the front window of the diner, filing into a booth near the back.
“No,” Zelena sighs, “I’m sorry. I mean – for everything.”
It’s been years, and yet this is the first time that she’s said those words to her sister. It makes her cheeks flush with blood, her lungs tighten around what little air she’s been able to suck in. She wants to slip down into the floor of the car, where it’s dark, and curl up there.
“I was so alone – and it’s no excuse. I saw what you went through; I thought I’d be better.” When she does turn to Regina, she’s looking straight ahead, gaze focused and hard. “I was a fool.”
“Yes,” Regina agrees. “Between us, we’ve made enough foolish mistakes to fill a book.”
Zelena takes in a staggering breath. Her vision has returned now, no longer blotted white around the edges. “But you’re good.” She continues, when Regina finally turns to her, “You’ve made up for all you’ve done.”
“No.” Regina shakes her head. “I’ll always be doing that.”
“You’re better.”
“Only because I chose to be.” Regina takes a deep breath in, trapping her tongue between her teeth. “I thought for so long that it was too late for me to change. In the end, that was the only thing that was stopping me.” She studies her sister, face pinched and weary, and wonders if she’ll be strong enough to do the same. Even in her wasted heart, she believes that she can.
The Mercedes falls quiet, filled only with the sound of the wind yapping at the doors and Zelena’s shaking, steadily calming breaths.
“Things could have been so different, if she’d kept me – if we’d grown up together.”
Regina remembers her lonely nursery, her mother’s temper. “They could,” she says, “but you don’t know that it would have been better.”
Slowly, the panic attack releases Zelena, and she takes in a gulp of air.
“They’re waiting for us,” Regina says, and watches as her sister directs her gaze to the window in Granny’s diner.
Zelena smirks a little, offering, “This isn’t the celebratory dinner you’d imagined, hm?”
But Regina simply shrugs a little. “We’re celebrating your release – we can do what you want.”
Taking a deep breath, Zelena watches the door to Granny’s open, an impatient Roland appearing on the step to wave them over. He’s grinning, and gestures inside, where both his father and self-proclaimed big brother are waiting at a back booth, mulling over their fraying menus. And just like that, it’s easy for both women to muster a smile.
“Come on,” Zelena says, turning to her little sister with a grin. “I’m ready.”
She pulls down on the car door handle and makes her entrance into the world beyond Regina Mills’ mayoral property, stepping into the light.