Chapter Text
It has been three days since Henry died.
72 hours.
4320 minutes.
This is how she measures time now.
There have been other markers over the years; time before Daniel and after Daniel. Before Leopold and after Leopold. Before her father’s death, and after. Before the curse and after the curse. Before Henry… and now after Henry. None has been more painful than this. At one point there was a ‘before Emma/after Emma,’ because it seemed like because of that woman she might be about to lose everything- her son, her town, her whole life. But somehow they had moved through those interminable months that seemed to consist of an endless string of betrayals and hurt and failure. And Henry was still there, still her son, still loved her. And Emma became a friend. And even Snow and Charming became something like family.
But all that’s gone now. Or rather, it doesn’t matter, because Henry is dead.
The funeral is today, but she can’t bring herself to get ready; can’t bring herself to go and stand among mourners and watch her son be lowered into the ground. It’s too final. And she doesn’t want to be with them; the people of this town who once would have loved to see her broken, who perhaps still do, who probably think she’s to blame for Henry’s death along with every other terrible thing that’s ever happened to Storybrooke.
And maybe they’re right.
It’s that possibility she really can’t face. She is sure Emma will blame her. After all, Zelena was only on this path of destruction because she hated Regina. And maybe Regina hadn’t done anything to warrant this hate; maybe this was all down to Cora. But the fact remained that Zelena would never have come to Storybrooke if it weren’t for Regina. And Henry would certainly be alive- that was beyond any doubt. It had taken a while, but Zelena had finally figured how how to destroy her sister.
The green witch had stuck around just long enough to gloat; to see the look on Regina’s face when her son’s life was extinguished. Then she had evaporated to god knows where- out of harm’s way; out of Regina’s reach. And Regina had been left with only the broken body of her son. Her son who she is supposed to burry today.
Zelena will be back; Regina is sure of this. You don’t hold on to that much hate and hurt and anger for that long and then not stick around to watch the effects of your final, triumphant blow. Zelena will want to watch Regina suffer. She knows because she spent twenty-eight years living her vengeful fantasy against Snow and Charming. Granted it had got old pretty quickly, and she had soon realized she had simply created another prison for herself. But at first, watching Mary Margaret alone, knowing she would never find her prince, and having her cower in front of the mayor… well that had been very, very sweet. And Regina is glad that she and Zelena are similar in this way, because it means she will get another shot at her sister.
When that murdering witch returned to gloat, Regina would be ready for her.
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Emma didn’t show up at the funeral either. Snow was beside herself, unable to decide whether she should abandon the ceremony to go and look for her daughter, or stay and pay her respects to her beloved grandson, or put the whole thing on hold so she could do both. Mostly she just fretted with indecision until David, ever the voice of reason, reminded her that if Emma didn’t want to come to the funeral, there was no amount of persuasion that would convince her otherwise. She needed space, and they needed time to grieve themselves.
The service was no less crowded without Emma; Henry was well-loved and every member of the town turned out. Still, his mother’s absence was felt- both his mothers, Snow noted. She also noted the general sense of unease from the crowd at the uncertainty this absence created. Where were Henry’s mothers? What were they doing? What was going to happen next? What did this kind of grief look like from two unbelievably powerful witches?
Snow held baby Neal to her a little more tightly, leaned into David’s embrace as he put his arm nervously around her, tried to focus on what they had all come together for, to say goodbye to Henry, instead of this overwhelming sense of impending doom.
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Emma didn’t know where she was walking to until she got there. When she got up this morning she had every intention of going to the funeral; that’s what she was supposed to do, what was expected of her. It’s what you do when someone you love dies. It had seemed important to have a funeral for Neal; to lay him to rest, to say goodbye, to be with her family. But the idea of doing the same with Henry… it made her pulse race and her black dress feel too tight and her muscles clench like they might jump out of her skin.
She tore off the black garb, threw on her jeans, and walked out of the apartment before Mary Margaret and David even knew what was happening.
Outside she felt the cool of the crisp fall air against her skin, the brightness of a white sky obscured by clouds, the stillness of a town after a battle. There was no one on the street, no sound but the wind rustling the leaves on the trees. Everyone was in their homes preparing themselves and their families to go to the service. She was alone. It was quiet.
She started walking.
The park by the water was empty. Of course no one would be here this morning. All the kids would be with their parents, being kissed a little more often, held a little more tightly, feeling sorry but also guiltily relieved and thankful because terrible things can happen but not to them, not yet, not today.
Today it’s Emma who has to deal with this terrible loss. Emma and Regina.
Just as she thinks of the other woman, Emma looks up and sees Regina there, stopped a little distance from the park, watching her. Slowly, uncertainly, she makes her way to the bench where Emma sits.
“What are you doing here?” Emma asks as Regina stands awkwardly, unsure if she should sit, if she is welcome, if Emma wants to be alone, if she’s irritated at Regina’s presence interrupting her quiet.
“I don’t know. I was just walking…” Regina trails off, looks out at the park where she had taken Henry so often over the years, where he had first tried to convince Emma that fairytales were real, where he had hidden the book that contained all their histories, where she had torn down and destroyed everything with bulldozers in a desperate attempt to hold on to what was hers, to keep everything from changing, to stop Henry or Emma from ever learning the truth.
In the end it hadn’t mattered. Her desperate actions had caused fraught tensions and pushed her son further away but he had come back to her. He had loved her. She had brought him to this playground again on better terms, as a better person, with no more secrets.
This place has so many memories, good and bad. She knows Emma must feel the same.
Emma is watching her, looking like she has come to the same conclusion. She gives Regina a small, tired smile. “Do you want to sit?”
They sit side by side, looking out at the ocean in a sad, bleak sort of companionable silence until Regina finally says, “You’re not going to the funeral.”
It’s a statement more than a question; she knows the answer.
Emma shakes her head. “I just couldn’t…”
She breaks off, not sure how to explain exactly why she couldn’t; exactly what she’s feeling. And then at the same time realizing she doesn’t have to, because Regina knows exactly what she feels. Because Regina is here for the same reasons.
They are quiet again for a while, with only the wind blowing blowing softly, the waves lapping at the shore, each taking comfort in the proximity of the other, the relief at not having to speak because they both know, they both feel it.
A dark figure appears in the distance and Regina feels Emma stiffen. “Oh shit.”
“What is it?”
“Hook,” Emma groans.
Regina sees she’s right; the pirate is swiftly making his way towards them wearing his trademark hangdog look; his eyeliner seemingly laid on even thicker today, shoulders hunched over sympathetically.
“I just can’t deal with him right now,” Emma sounds panicky. “I know he wants to help but I just can’t- I can’t-”
Regina acts before she really thinks about what she’s doing, reacting to the emotion in Emma’s voice, to the kindred spirit she now seems to be.
“Take my hand.”
Emma looks at her, only hesitating a moment before enclosing Regina’s proffered hand in her own. Smoke swirls around them, obscuring Hook from view as he approaches, Emma just catching a look of surprise and hurt on his face.
And then they disappear.