Work Text:
Regina’s finger hovers over the dial pad as she contemplates making another round of calls. It’s all she can do to fill the silence, to loosen the clenching fear in her stomach. Discovering Henry’s empty bed and missing backpack brings to light every nightmare she’s had for the last ten years.
“Looks like the little brat has finally had enough of you.”
The phone drops uselessly to her side, the will to call vanishing. “Go away,” she groans.
***
Regina glares at the woman sitting cross legged on her desk. “Why are you still here? Where’s the Little One?”
The Queen presses a hand to her chest, offended. “Why must you be so hostile, Regina? It’s no wonder you have no friends here.”
“Don’t be rude,” a third voice chastises. The Little One glares at the Queen. Although taking on the appearance of a small child, she is just as fierce as her counterpart, even if she’s not as vicious. “I wouldn’t want to talk to a bitch like you either.”
“Language!” Regina says, out of a habit borne from letting Henry spend time with Leroy.
“Yes dear,” The Queen sneers. “Did your mother never teach you any manners?”
The Little One pales and opens her mouth to retort. Instead she rounds on Regina. “I’m not a child.”
“Well, you do have ribbons in your hair, so forgive me if we don’t take you too seriously.”
“Stop bullying her,” Regina cuts in.
The Queen’s demeanor darkens somewhat. “You’ve gone soft,” she growls. “It’s that little imp of yours; he has you-“
“I think Henry is a wonderful child,” the Little One interrupts defiantly. “He is smart and caring-”
“He’s an ungrateful bastard.“
“He’s a good boy,” Regina says through gritted teeth, effectively ending the argument. “He’s just confused. He wanted to meet her.” She’s unable to give this blonde intruder a title or name.
“That’s normal,” she continues, almost able to convince herself. “Now she’ll leave and everything will go back to normal.”
***
“So, what happens now?”
Regina ignores the Little One, counting brush strokes. Ninety-eight, ninety-nine, one hundred. She takes the extra care in laying her brush down before answering.
“Her little stunt changes nothing,” she says cooly. “I’ll get rid of her.”
The Little One looks out to the stump that mars the beauty of Regina’s apple tree. Raw and ugly, Regina thinks savagely. Just like the woman responsible for it.
Regina wrenches the curtain closed. “She has no idea who she’s dealing with.”
***
“Don’t you think this is getting old? Why not just let it be?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Let precious Snow get what she wants; let her win again?”
Regina nods to the Queen. “Not in this world,” she agrees. She pulls up in front of the small house and knocks on the door. This is the easy part; the possibility that she planned for. Her smile comes easily as the door swings open.
“Hello, Mrs Nolan? I’m Mayor Mills. I have news about your husband, David.”
***
Regina downs another swig of cider to drown the feeling of uselessness that still won’t leave her alone even though Henry is sleeping upstairs now, safe and sound.
She’s spent almost 3 decades being in control, knowing what would happen before it did because it was always the same. And now Emma Swan is destroying it all. The mine collapse, Graham hiring Emma without consulting her first; it leave a sense of unease in her that she can’t seem to shake.
Still, Regina Mills is nothing if not adaptable.
“Exciting day today. You must be exhausted.”
Maybe it’s the liquor dulling her senses, but Regina can’t find it in her to throw back anything within the range of her usual sarcasm.
“I suppose,” she mumbles, taking another gulp.
The Queen leans back on the couch, put out by her dull response.
“You know, things got pretty heated between you and the deputy today.”
Regina ignores this. “I should have gone down to get him.”
The Little One shrugs. “She is the deputy now-“
Regina slams her glass on the desk, cutting her off. “She is nothing in this town. An intruder, nothing more.”
The Queen’s brows raise mischievously. “That’s not the impression I got this afternoon. For a moment, I thought you were about to kiss her.”
Regina knows this game; she tries to remain nonchalant. “Shut up.”
“There’s no shame in it, dear,” the Queen taunts. “Think about it. You could both be Henry’s mothers. Win-win, I’d say.”
Regina kicks back her chair and walks out of the study, slamming the polished door.
“We can follow you, you know,” the Queen’s voice rings up the staircase.
***
The Little One picks the flowers out of the dirt and dusts them off carefully.
The Queen’s gaze remains fixed where Graham was swallowed by fog only moments before. In the distance, the Sheriff’s car sputters to life and fades away.
Regina takes the flowers and walks into the mausoleum. She closes her eyes and lays her palms on the cool stone, whispering her apology.
Her concentration breaks and she looks up from her prayer to see the Queen standing there.
Regina pushes the tomb out of the way to reveal the steep steps. She hasn’t been down here in over ten years and the layer of dust coating every surface shows it.
She can hear them following her; the Little One protesting while the Queen says calmly, “He’s remembering.”
The drawer flies out and Regina extracts the box as if lifting a child from its crib.
“You know what needs to happen.”
The Little One cries out, “This isn’t who you are here!”
Regina flips the lid open. Inside the heart is still glowing and pulsing. She watches it with mild fascination.
“Things are changing. You can’t keep lying to yourself.”
Regina takes the heart out, testing it’s weight in her hand.
“He chose her. You have nothing to lose. If you let this continue, they will destroy everything you’ve created.”
She tightens her grip ever so slightly.
“No!”
“You don’t want to go back, do you? Left all by yourself while everyone else gets their happy ending?”
She screams and squeezes. This is all there is for her: hatred, anger and a stream of dust pouring from her hand. Everything else is too dangerous; love always has and always will fail her. She won’t let anyone take advantage of her emotions. She won’t be weak.
The Little One is screaming through sobs. The Queen only smiles.
“Good girl.”