The sky was grey, threatening to shed drops of water as every citizen of Storybrooke tried to hold back the ones forming in their own eyes. Dew was covering the grass, the air was fresh, barely making its way to the lungs of the people who gathered at the cemetery. Breathing without losing the weak illusion of composure they had proved to be difficult.
Five days. It had been five days since time had stopped. Five days since the world had stopped turning. Five days since darkness engulfed them. It had been five days since they lost a part of their family, a part of themselves. Five days since their little ray of sunshine was extinct.
Five days had passed, and yet, they both felt like they were still in the middle of the street, holding the limp body of their beloved boy. Every other moment seemed to be a blur. The papers and the preparation for today had been a long and painful step to go through. The two parents spent their nights tossing around in bed, unable to escape in a slumber that could have given them the illusion that everything was alright again.
Robin once ended up taking a walk in the forest and stopped unconsciously where he was told everything had happened. In a fit of rage, he started hitting the tree in front of him, stopping only when blood was dripping from his knuckles and tears were streaming down his face again. A guttural cry ripped his throat as he laid his back on the trunk he had just released his anger on, slowly letting himself fall on the ground. Sitting in front of where his son's last breath had been taken, the man wept all the tears left in his body. How could he have failed his son? He wasn't even there to protect him. He was his father, for heaven's sake. He should have been here. He should have been there…
As the archer realized the finality of the situation, as he realized how he'd never get to hold his boy, look in his eyes and admire his smile again, Regina stayed at home. Also unable to sleep, she found herself sitting under her apple tree, looking at the moon and crying quietly as the images of Roland falling on his knees came back to haunt her. She could still hear his last word, his beg for her to save him, his whispered "Gina". Her name. He counted on her. She should have protected him. She should have been more careful.
She looked at an apple hanging from a twisted branch, thinking about how they were supposed to bake apple turnovers together this week since he had asked her to teach him so he could give a surprise to his Papa. How could she have let this happen? How could she be responsible for this? Oh and she was, no matter if Snow, Emma and even Robin tried to convince her otherwise. This was all her fault. She had killed him. All the "it was Zelena's attack, this is not your fault" Robin told her, either brokenly or like if he was trying to shake some sense into her didn't convince her in the slightest. How could she live now? How could she face her soulmate knowing she was responsible for their son's death?
They both looked at the stars from under their respective trees, wondering if their little ray of sunshine had become a star amongst the dark sky. Could he enlighten them in this dead end?
Everyone had tried to give all the support they could in their own way, but how could an offer for help be appropriate when no one knows what it feels like to lose a child, when no one knows how it feels to be guilty for their own son's death? No sympathetic look, no supportive words, no flowers, no homemade cookies and no shoulder to cry on mattered. What mattered was gone.
In their own way, they were both trapped inside their head, guilt eating them up. They felt empty, but overwhelmed and numb. Some days, they could swear they could still see his silhouette in the backyard. Some days, they could swear they could still hear his giggles echoing in the house's halls.
Five days.
That's how long it took to plan a ceremony to honour Roland's memory. It took five days to pick the flowers, choose the songs, decide on a spot in the graveyard, find a decent tombstone and determine which of the very few small coffins they wanted. All of this seemed impossible, and yet they had gone through it all. Trying to write a speech was the hardest part though. How could they put their feelings into words? How could they talk about the little boy without tearing up in front of everyone? The task was simply inhuman. They missed him so much and writing their goodbye would only confirm that the situation was real and irreversible.
At least they had each other. They both blamed themselves in their own twisted way for what happened, but they somehow supported each other. They were the only ones to know how it felt, how it hurt, how it left a hole inside their heart, how it seemed like a part of them was missing. The presence of one allowed the other to live their pain. Together. That was the only slightly conceivable way they'd make it, so they held onto this. And so they held onto each other.
It was the kind of day where rain was always threatening to fall from the clouds, but never fulfilled its promise. A slight wind was blowing through the leaves of the old oak tree the citizens of Storybrooke were standing under. There were a few rows of uncomfortable chairs in front of the elegant and macabre funeral box, but dozens of people had to stay up. Regina would have preferred something more intimate, but how could she refuse everyone their chance to say goodbye to the smallest Merry Man? Besides, Roland would have wanted to let people come if they wanted to.
Regina and Robin had intertwined their fingers as they both stared at the mahogany coffin. Their palms were sweaty, their hands shaking from holding on to each other with such strength. They would not let go, each one being the pillar of the other.
Henry was sitting beside his mother, also devastated by the events. He was telling himself he had to be strong for his mom and his step-father though. He was dreading the moment, but he was the first to get up and walk to the smallest coffin he had ever laid eyes upon. He felt as if he was sinking deeper in the ground after each of his steps, as if the earth was trying to swallow him. Once he was close enough, he gulped and clenched his jaw, knowing he had to do this. For him and for his brother.
"Roland was… He was an incredible little boy, but I'm sure everyone here knows that already. When something was wrong, he always had the ability to bring a smile on everyone's face, and with the multiple threats the town's faced, it was really appreciated by all." The teenager stopped for a second before looking up at his mother, the one who raised him, the one who chose him, searching for something he couldn't quite put his finger on. It's with the slight nod of her head that he understood: these were dark times, but even if each of them was touched by this terrible accident, if they sticked together, then they would be stronger and they would help each other go through this rough patch.
With another gulp and tears blurring his vision, Henry continued his speech with a slightly shaky voice and a determined tone. "Roland was my brother. If I know one thing about family, it's that blood isn't what's most important. You can choose who your family is, and I am proud to say Roland was a part of mine. I loved how he wanted me to read him some comic books from my collection, how he asked me to teach him how to ride a bike, how he once asked mom if he could have a scarf just like mine. I loved being his big brother. It was a real honor to me, and it always will be. If he were here today, he'd probably ask to go get some ice cream after the ceremony, and who would we be to say no to him? He knew how to use his charms, but he also knew it'd lift everyone's spirit. Roland would remind us that life goes on and that we should enjoy it, and even if he's not here physically anymore, he'll always be in our hearts, and that assures his immortality in a way. I love Roland, he is my brother, and nothing is ever going to change that."
Henry looked at his mother again, noticing the wet trails on her cheeks left by her tears. Regina gave him a shaky smile full of emotion and, like mother like son, he returned it to her before he looked back down at the coffin. "I'll always be there for you, buddy," He whispered and laid a hand on top of the tiny mahogany box. After gently laying a daffodil on the wooden cover, he added his favourite scarf, the one Roland liked to wear to imitate his big brother.
The teenager went back to his chair with a tight throat, Regina's gaze following him. "I'm so proud of you," She mumbled as she leaned her forehead against his, deeply touched by her son's speech. Henry's tears rolled down his cheeks slowly as he pursed his lips and nodded slightly after his mother's comment. Robin slightly leaned forward to look at the boy who was more like a man today. "Thank you, Henry," He muttered to him. He really appreciated the gesture of his step-son and he thought it was very honourable of him to find the strength to stand in front of everyone and do what he just did. He didn't have to do it, and yet he chose to, and Robin was really grateful for that.
She knew it was her turn, and Regina wanted to run away, oh so far away from here. Somewhere where she could mourn her little knight and drown herself in self-loathing. But it wouldn't be fair to Roland. She owed it to him. Taking a deep breath, she got up, breaking her contact with Robin for the first time since they arrived, and she walked up to Roland's last shelter. Clutching onto the soft object in her hands, she bit her quivering lips and took a few seconds before attempting to form any sort of comprehensible word.
"I'm so sorry, sweetheart," She whispered as one of her hands went up to touch the coffin. As the words left her mouth, only for the little boy to hear, she wasn't able to hold it together and she burst into tears. She had prepared a speech, but it was all gone now. She felt like needles were perforating her lungs as she struggled to catch her breath. She felt like the ground was shifting beneath her feet and she had no idea how she was still standing up. She felt like her limbs were detaching from her body from the powerlessness she was facing. It was over and she couldn't bear the thought that she was getting to live while he laid there with no heartbeat. He had his whole life in front of him. It wasn't fair.
But life has never been fair, and that she knew too well. She had to push her guilt and self-hatred aside for now. For this moment, for her goodbye, it didn't really matter.
Everyone was holding their breath, their tears freely running down their faces as they observed Regina, awaiting her next move while being destroyed by her first reaction. The air was heavy as the usually so composed mayor tried to calm down, but her heart only seemed to drown in an inhuman pain that was tearing it apart.
A hand then laid on her shoulder and she immediately recognized the gentle touch. She leaned into it, joining her burden to his as she wrapped her free arm around his waist and laid the side of her head on his shoulder. Robin's presence didn't make things any easier, but he gave her the strength to go on.
"Roland was like a son to me. He had the choice to see me simply as his father's lover or as a second mother. Knowing that he chose the second option is something I'll always be grateful for. He brought so much into my life. When I thought I had nothing left to live for, he was there to show me that I should carry on, because light can come from the most unexpected of places, even, if not especially, when you feel hopeless. You just have to know where to look. His innocence could lift the weight on anybody's shoulders, even if only momentarily. His smile, with his adorable dimples, made you forget about any negative things that might have been happening in your life. His playfulness made you forget you had problems to take care of, so you just enjoyed time with him. And time seemed to stop then. But... little did we know about the time we had left…"
The woman paused, bit her lip, and took a deep breath before continuing. "I feel so incredibly lucky that I got to be so close to him. I feel so lucky that I could buy him ice cream, that I could tickle him and hear his giggles in the entire house, that I could teach him about this world's traditions and inventions, that I could read him bedtime stories, that I could tell him not to play ball in the house, and of course he did and broke a vase of flowers, but he asked me for glue and "sticky paper roll" to try to repair it so I wouldn't be mad at him." Regina smirked slightly, remembering the scene so perfectly, like it happened just yesterday. "That was Roland. No matter how broken things seemed to be, or people for that matter, he always tried to make them better although it might have been seen as useless to most people."
Robin's hand slightly squeezed Regina's shoulder before she finished her speech with a shaky voice. "I feel so incredibly lucky that I got to be like a mother to him," She mumbled, her thumb stroking the mahogany coffin. "Not a day's going to go by without you on my mind and in my heart, sweetheart. I promise you that, and I won't fail you this time," She whispered, her lips quivering as a heavy silence filled the air. She had no way to end this. She was at loss for words, at loss for gestures, at loss for everything.
With a gulp, the man beside her decided to help her, so she'd help him. "I remember the day Roland was born just like if it was yesterday. All the joy and pride I felt when I first held my boy was... overwhelming." Regina turned her head to look at Robin while he stared at the yellow flowers on top of the coffin. She had never heard that story before, and to hear it for the first time today was heartbreaking. "I told him "Welcome to the world, Roland Locksley. I'll make sure you'll grow up in a loving and happy family. Daddy's always going to be there for you." I made this pledge the priority of my code. And yet, here we are..." Robin muttered. He clenched his jaw, not even bothering to try to fight the tears in his eyes. "He wanted me to teach him how to use a bow and arrow. Said he wanted to be just like his Papa, and that he would even be a better archer than me once he'd be older. And I secretly wished he would. But I never even got to train him properly."
The man smirked sadly and looked down, taking a deep breath before resuming. "I don't know where I'm going with this. I'm just... I'm lost. I've been so lost since he's gone. I miss him terribly, I miss his smile, his giggles, his ruffled curled hair, his playfulness, his stubbornness, I even miss his tantrums. I miss his hugs and the way he said "Papa". When I close my eyes, I can still hear him, I can still see him. I can see him run to me excitedly, flashing those dimples he apparently got from me. It breaks my heart to know I'll never get to have one of these moments with him again. It's not fair, it shouldn't be this way. I was supposed to go before him. It pains me to know he'll never get to grow up and live the life he was supposed to have, live the experiences that would have made him into a man. My son enjoyed life, oh, that he did, and I guess that's the only comfort I can give myself: he had a beautiful life. Complicated sometimes, but he still enjoyed every moment," The man mumbled, holding on tightly and shakily onto Regina. "So, I will say this: the world wanted you to stay, Roland Locksley. Your family loves you and is going to miss you so much every single day until our paths cross again. Your mother's gonna take care of you now. And I hope that, wherever you are, you're still the same little bundle of happiness, spreading hope and joy around you. I wish I could do something, anything, to change what happened, to make you come back... May you rest in peace, knowing that you were deeply loved and cared for by everyone that is here today, and most especially your family."
Silence fell in the graveyard, the leaves softly moving to the wind, keeping a steady and peaceful rhythm. Both adults stood in front of the small coffin, supporting each other, giving comfort to one another. Trembling slightly, Regina slowly lifted her hand to delicately deposit the light grey monkey she offered Roland on the mahogany surface. She remembered their first encounter, making a sorrowful smirk break through her tears. The fluffy plush was accompanied by a bouquet of daffodils laid by Robin, along with a small bow and arrow.
The couple slowly backed away, returning to their seats. They both avoided looking at the people surrounding them for fear they would crumble to the ground. The clement sound of the singing birds was accompanied by Snow's brief and gentle touch on Regina's shoulder, lasting long enough for the grieving woman to acknowledge the affection by stroking the woman's fingers.
As her hand fell back beside her body, the coffin was lowered in the ground, facing the miniature tombstone with the words "Beloved son, brother, Merry Man and Knight" engraved in the granite along with the little boy's name.
They sky was grey, lungs seemed to suffocate despite the fresh air, sobs were hard to muffle and holds were tightening onto weak arms. The clouds were threatening to release the water they were containing, but never fulfilled their promises, perhaps by respect of all the tears that were falling on the grass and joining the dew beneath the feet of Storybooke's citizens. The melancholic melody of the wind didn't alleviate the sound of each shovelful of earth hitting the wooden surface. The more the hole was filled, the more the one in their hearts dilated. Emptiness and heaviness were both dancing inside the two parents, overwhelmed by guilt and grief.
As if the wind was guiding them, people gradually started to leave until there were only two silhouettes left standing in front of the rectangle of freshly plowed earth. Suffocating, Regina turned to Robin and they hugged each other tightly, shaking with sobs.
It had been five days. Five days, and yet it simultaneously seemed like five seconds and five decades. Five days without their little boy, five days into this new life that lacked actual life. They had gone through five days, but that was nothing compared to the future. They had all the time ahead of them, while the little boy was laying under their feet, dead and cold, lifeless and unable to discover the world like they had the privilege to have. It wasn't fair. All the hope speeches in the world couldn't make them see the light out of this seemingly eternal tunnel.
And as they wept in each other's arms, the clouds let a delicate ray of light escape from their opaque drapes, the strand of hope stroking the daffodils on Roland's tombstone.