Chapter Text
They are sitting on the bench again. It’s Thursday and it’s been exactly four days since the almost kiss. Regina wishes it had been just as long since she last thought about it.
The salty ocean breeze is whipping her dark hair against her face and she absentmindedly touches the soft skin just around her left eye. She can imagine the salt settling in the fine creases, deepening and elongating. Making her look at least a little closer to her actual age.
Most days she’s glad the clock is back to ticking, and other days…
“It’s weird, isn’t it? That it’s been almost 2 years already?” Emma speaks next to her, as if having heard her thoughts.
Regina follows her gaze and finds it focusing on space that used to harbor a ship but is now filled with nothing but the absence of. The absence of a large wooden body. The absence of the man who’d guide it across oceans and realms.
The grimace is instantaneous. It’s almost Pavlovian at this point.
“Good riddance” she says, eyes now on the waves that are crashing against the pier; white foam and dark blues and greens roaring briefly only to sink back into ocean. And there is such beauty in destruction.
“Well” Emma begins, shrugging and smiling like maybe she knows what will follow.
Her hand brushes against Regina’s thigh as she grabs the edge of the bench and shifts her weight ever so slightly.
Regina pretends not to notice the way something inside of her expands and grows and grows.
“He was never good enough for you, Emma.”
And there is such light in those eyes when they meet her own that her chest feels so tight. Too tight.
(A quick inhale, so nothing breaks.)
“And, frankly, he always thought too highly of himself.”
Emma laughs then.
“Yea, he did. But it was nice to feel loved, even if I…”
A pause and then Emma is looking directly at her, ocean eyes and waves crashing. And there is such beauty in surrendering.
“I think there are worse things than thinking you deserve to be happy Regina.”
Is this what drowning feels like?
Regina’s response is a curt nod because she can’t continue down this path. Not when the walls have been closing in and there used to be an exit but now there’s just it was a mistake and it won’t happen again, I promise.
***
Her study appears to be glowing. The light from the setting sun is painting everything in a warm orange tint.
The cider remains untouched but her fingers around the cold glass twitch every so often, as she looks through the photographs in the album resting in her lap.
She’s been in this world for 35 years but there are no saved memories prior to 2001. Prior to Henry.
When she turns the page there are images from the missing year. From New York. From parks and picnics and visits to the Museum of Natural History where Henry’s grin is all teeth and his eyes seem to sparkle as he points to the giant Tyrannosaurus rex skeleton behind him in the Hall of Saurischian Dinosaurs.
The one underneath is of him attempting to give Emma a baleful glare after a seagull had stolen his hotdog. They had been at Coney Island and Emma had laughed and laughed and laughed.
The picture is a little blurry as a result, but even so, Regina can see how much he looks like Emma in that moment. And she realizes she can’t remember when that thought stopped being anything other than a reminder that he’s theirs.
Emma had given all the pictures to her and said: “It’s kind of strange, you know. I mean I get that it would be, because I have two sets of memories in my head, but I look at these and… It almost feels like… Like we did it together. Raised him I mean. Like we were a family.”
Regina had smiled then and looked away because maybe we still could be.
Henry walks in and plops his ever-growing body down on the couch right as she’s adjusting a photo of her and Robin. She can’t remember when it was taken but her smile in it had already begun to look forced. She wonders if he noticed. Even back then.
“Hey mom, feeling nostalgic?” he says and grins before his sees the picture she’s focused on.
“Oh.” He’s watching her and her sweet, sweet boy looks suddenly so concerned. She takes his hand and marvels at how her own becomes so small in comparison. (Some days she’s glad the clock is ticking, and other days…) “Do you miss him?”
“No” and it’s an honest answer. She doesn’t. Instead she misses believing she could be happy. That someone could look at her and it was nice to feel loved, even if I…
“But you were supposed to be soulmates” he continues. Gentle, gentle as he prods.
“People change. And, I guess, their souls reflect that.”
The answer seems to relax him, the way his shoulders become less tense. And she’s thankful. Glad that she won’t have to explain the despair, the horrible ache, the frustration when something’s supposedly made to fit and then it just… doesn’t. And how predestined becomes something like a weight on your chest when you lie in bed next to him and suddenly you’re struggling to breathe.
Henry leans his head back against the sofa and looks up at the ceiling. He does this for just a second or two before turning to face her again.
“You know, I read this quote the other day. I can’t remember who said it, but I guess it doesn’t really matter. It said there are people who are right for you, and people who are wrong for you. And then there are the people that you just choose.”
She watches him. Swallows and tucks her hair behind her ear and her spine becomes just a little straighter. “Henry…”
“I just think- Mom, I just think that maybe it’s time you got to choose.”
His cheek is so warm against her palm as her thumb caresses the smooth skin and she tries hard not think about how much it hurts, the way that he now understands. Because her hand is small compared to his, but he is still a child.
“I chose you.”
“Yea” he grins, placing his hand on top of hers. “I’m glad you did.”
And something inside of her expands and grows and grows.