In The Flicker: Chapter 8

Emma's breathing normalized as she rested on the bed. She was now in the space in between sleep and consciousness, a sort of sleep paralysis. The pain had long subsided - her blood was no longer acid eating away at her own veins, thanks to Regina. She could not recall whether she had seen any kind of painful grimace on the former queen's face, but she assumed that Regina no longer had the curse. Now it was her burden.

To be fair, Emma had asked for it. She wanted to take it upon herself if it meant Regina's heavy loaded past would spare her if only until they returned home. But shit, she could have been made aware of it when it happened. That disturbed her on all levels - that magic could be used and curses could be cast without consent and without warning.

That was probably what Regina had been subjected to with Cora. And during her terrible reign, what she probably subjected others to.

"What happened to her?" she heard Henry ask Regina by her bedside. She heard her shoes click on the stone floors, unnerved.

"She now has what I had. A curse." Regina stopped, probably searching Henry's face for accusation. From what Henry said next, she was right to.

"You didn't tell me about a curse." There was a tone of hurt and betrayal in his voice, and Emma wanted to much to open her mouth and tell him that it wasn't like that. She tried to move her jaw to no avail.

"You didn't give it to her, did you?"

"I," Regina started, already beginning to panic, "I didn't mean to. I didn't want you to worry."

Well you're doing a great job at that now, Emma thought to herself. She attempted again to move some part of her body, a toe or a finger, but again felt no movement.

"You're doing it again," Henry said quietly. "You're lying to me."

"Henry-"

Little shoes scurried out of the room and into the hall, and Regina, first taking a moment to assess Emma's condition, followed, the clicks of her shoes now an echo that reverberated in Emma's head as she once again faded into unconsciousness.

~#~#~#~#~#~#~#~#

Regina tried not to think about the fact that Henry had never demanded the truth from Emma when she was subjected to the curse. Henry didn't ask about why Regina always looked so haunted and miserable ever since they stumbled into the Enchanted Forest. She tried not to think about it, to think that she didn't matter to him, because that's what Cora wanted. She wanted Regina to have no one but her mother to care for and love her.
She found him on sitting on a spiraling staircase with his arms around his knees. Regina sighed, and slowly descended the steps to sit next to him.

"My first week in this castle, I almost stumbled down these steps," she said, as if to pick up from their interrupted trip down Regina's more or less unpleasant memory lane. "My dress was too long, and my heels too high. I had a waiting gentlewoman who liked to joke about that incident every now and then."

There were a few good memories from this castle. Regina had forgotten most of them under the weight of misery and Leopold's silent treachery.

Henry kept looking on, not meeting her eyes. He was angry, but he also wanted to laugh, and he didn't know how to balance these conflicting feelings toward his mother.

"I wish you would be this honest all the time," he told her. "I don't like it when you hide things from me."

"I know, I'm sorry."

It was a funny thing, actually, because at that moment Henry found that he didn't know how to be honest with her either. They both shared a very stunted ability to communicate with each other, as Emma had pointed out just hours prior. But now was the chance to actually talk about things. Emma was off in a magical coma, so neither he nor Regina had any messenger to interpret and explain the language of complicated love.

"I didn't want you to worry about my mother," Regina elaborated from earlier, this time much calmer. "I couldn't tell you much more beyond the... heart."

"Why not?" Henry demanded. "It would be nice to know what's going on with you. It would be nice to just..." he licked his dry lips in search of words. Honesty was difficult and scary.

"You think I don't love you," he finally said. His eyes were beginning to water now as he tightened his arms around himself, physically closing himself to compensate for the opening up he was doing. "But... I do. It's just hard when you do bad things, because I should be angry and forgiveness is supposed to be earned. But you didn't tell me anything, and your story wasn't in the book, and I felt really bad, and confused, because maybe if I knew earlier, things could be different.

"You never told me about the curse, the one at home. You kept lying about it. You didn't tell me that when you were coming to this world you were going to stay here and leave me for good. You didn't tell me about your mom, and you didn't tell me that she took your heart and it's in a box instead of inside of you. You didn't tell me about this other curse, and maybe I was stupid for not seeing it, but you still didn't say anything, and then you didn't tell me that you gave it to Emma until it started to hurt her like that. I don't want you to keep bad things to yourself. That's what made you the Evil Queen, but you're not her anymore. You're my mom, I want you to be my mom, but you can't do that when you keep lying to me all the time."

He buried his head in his arms now, so flustered from the words coming out of his mouth, and Regina, though visibly awestruck, acted on her instinct to put her arms around him. Henry stiffened at first, but the tension in his muscles melted as he, to her surprise, leaned into her.

She hadn't done this in years, and it took a while for her to ease up against him. Her hand settled atop his head, the palm warm on his uncombed hair.

"I'm sorry," was all she could manage to say after his tirade, though she was getting sick of her own useless apologies. She took a deep breath. "Henry..."

There were silent tears running down his face, and though she couldn't see them, she knew from the hitch of his breath that he was crying.

"It's not... It's not easy. You're my son - and Emma's, too. But she..." Regina sighed. "How do you tell your own son that you're a monster? How could I ever, from the first time I held you to the first time you held that book, find it in me to tell you the truth? You're right, I've lied to you too much. And I've never been right in doing so. But what have I ever known about being right? There is one thing that stands, though, and it's that the hiding needs to stop. We'll always be honest from now on. And I'll start with this.

"Your mother, that idiot Swan, has a heart that I wish I had. She offered to take the curse from me to spare me...Cora came into the picture shortly after that. Three, four days ago I would have done it to her myself. In fact, I almost did, with that turnover. But... things have changed. And they are changing because I love you, and...maybe even Emma, little by little." Regina was red in the cheeks, and was thankful that said person was out cold as a rock and that her son was facing away from her. "Cora is not getting what she wants, and we are going home together."

Henry finally lifted his head to look at her in the eyes. "Promise?"

Regina smiled regretfully, and delicately cupped his chin. "If you still want honesty then I can't make any promises. But I'll try my best, Henry. So long as you believe in me."

He smiled at her, like he did in the mine, except this time with his beautiful, innocent, glassy brown eyes. "I do."

"Thank you." She kissed the top of his head. "Now it's time to get back to Sleeping Beauty over there. She might be lonely."

There was a house. It wasn't the biggest, nor was it the smallest, and the family that lived there was ordinary. Emma had the tiniest flicker of hope that maybe they'd like her, but she was in the system long enough to recognize where genuine care and willingness to take her in was present. She didn't understand why people did this. She didn't understand why people put up the front of being good and then did the opposite behind closed doors.

The mother, though, Mrs. Oswald, was a different story. She treated Emma as if she been there all her life, as if she were no different from her other child of the same age, Louise. They got on fine, or so Emma believed, until the nights came and she would hear Mr. Oswald shouting at Mrs. Oswald. Something about how she couldn't do this to their Louise. From her top bunk she had asked her foster sister questions, what "this" was. She never answered, but Emma finally got one when there was a lot less affection during the day, and no more goodnight kisses before bed.

Mrs. Oswald had stopped smiling often at Emma. When they finally gave her up, so had she.

Emma remembered this and woke up with tears on her face. The visions of their indifferent faces faded into black as she was pulled into reality, where she was laying in bed with Regina sitting at her side playing benevolent healer. Regina's palm had been over Emma's head, emitting a soothing blue glow.

"Couldn't have you in screaming fits, could we?" Regina said, now using her thumb to wipe away at Emma's stained cheeks. It was almost too intimate to not be intimidating, but it felt nice. Henry, kneeling at the other side of the bed holding Emma's hand, took note of this.

"I can't control what you see," she explained to Emma. "But I can make sure it doesn't get as violent."

"My own little dream catcher, eh?" Emma commented, then winced at a dull pain returning to her body. "So tell all, Doc."

"Well for starters, you were wrong. You said it wouldn't work on you but here you are, writhing in pain. Turns out there are effects of being the product of 'true love.'"

"I think I was just the product of a honeymoon, nothing too special about that."

"But it is, apparently. True love creates the most powerful magic, and that's you. That's why the curse has taken such a toll on you so quickly, and frequently for that matter. Normally you'd have broken it, but this... this works differently."

"God, you could have told me that."

"I told you it was too risky and that we both didn't know what would happen to you."

"Then why did you even..." Emma saw the look on Regina's face, and she connected the dots. "Cora did it, didn't she."

"Yes," Regina replied regretfully.

"Son of a bitch," Emma groaned as she smudged her face with both her hands.

"Daughter of, actually."

"Is it still here? She didn't take it, did she?" Emma sat up, facing the drawer they had stored it in.

"My heart? No. Cast a deadlock charm as soon as I could, however."

"Well that's suspicious as shit. So what's the plan? Are they getting us out of here or what?"

"They'll come into contact sooner or later. We've made sure that we won't miss it when it comes," Regina nodded to a handmirror by Henry's side as he picked it up and waved it around.

"They'll get the mad hatter's hat and we'll be out of here in no time," Henry said confidently, even though everyone in the room, including him, felt doubt.

"And Cora?" Emma asked. "What will she do? She got to Storybrooke once and she can probably go back. She can do it all over again."

"Well, she won't," Regina said sharply, and didn't open the issue for further discussion.

Cora's dress draped over the grass as she walked through the meadows, feeling the wind against her face, through her hair, against the folds of her dress and sleeves. The skies were orange and purple, a sign of the sun's retreat.

"Remember these plains, my darling?" she said to Regina as if she were there with her. "Where you'd ride on those silly horses, riding in the most unlady-like fashion."

Fallen leaves from the trees across the plain had been whisked away by the mild wind, making circles and loops as they briefly swept around Cora, momentarily encasing her in the spring.

"Those were foolish days, my dear. But I forgive them. I forgive all your trespasses."

She continued to walk, and somehow each stride brought her farther and farther away from the reality that she was soon to face - the reality that her daughter truly, genuinely did not want her, and that she was wrong.

In the horizon, her old home sat, glinting of the past and what Cora used to be. It beckoned to her, called for her to run back to the days where she was just the miller's daughter, and her father had not sent her away to the King.

"I just wanted to give you power," she said almost sadly, ignoring the tear that made its way down her old cheek. "To change your life before they could change yours."

She unconsciously played with conjured flames at her fingertips, providing a warmth that was akin to the feeling of a hot and beating heart in her hand, and only second to Regina. They flickered and danced even when the sun was down and Cora was stuck in her trance, talking to her daughter who was not there for hours and hours and inside her head hearing cries in response.

It was almost humorous how after 28 years, Regina found herself trapped in the same castle, the very place she tried to escape once in her still good youth and then again when she enacted the curse.

Henry thought that walking around would help Emma take her mind off whatever it was she saw - he was wrong, but it did help her cope. She looked out the windows and the balconies, saw the stream of fairydust and lights in the sky and even when it was overlayed with old faces that did her harm, she still could look to the mysterious sky and find hope.

They stopped when they reached the ballroom, and Henry had tugged at Regina's hand to pull her toward the harpsichord that sat in the corner.

When Henry was little, just about 4 or 5 years old, they had a grand piano in their living room. Regina used to have him on her lap, teaching him simple melodies, and when he began to grow weary of her instruction, she let him venture off on his own, pressing discordant keys that created cacophony to others but beautiful curiosity to Regina ("It's a little more avant-garde than I would like," she'd say, "but it's his creation."). When he got older they continued to play together, but it wasn't long until they started to stray. Henry became unhappier and lonelier, and Regina became stricter and more frustrated. In attempts to soften their relationship, Regina always called for Henry to sit with her on the piano bench. He said yes less and less often, and when he finally stopped answering her altogether, the piano was gone by the next morning.

So when Henry pulled the bench up and motioned for Regina to sit next to him in front of the harpsichord, she nearly cried.

He pressed on a key, and was displeased to find it horribly tuned. Regina then swept her hand across the keys, and he could hear the insides of the harpsichord being adjusted.

"Try again."

He pressed two this time, a C with an E. When they sounded in concordance, Henry looked up at Regina and smiled.

"Didn't know you ever played," Emma said to the both of them, walking up behind them with her arms crossed.

"Every lady must have some degree of skill in the arts, Miss Swan," Regina said, a trace of nostalgia mixed with sadness in her voice. She lifted her hands over the harpsichord's two sets of keys, still trying to recall the old tunes that her mother would teach her in her efforts to cultivate her into a proper tea-sipping lady.

She began to press on a few chords, struggling to find the right rhythm. Then she gave up altogether and did what she liked, creating a pleasant and soothing progression.

"Kinda sounds like Girls in Red," Emma commented, amused, though she felt more like she was stuck in the Baroque era. Then again, was she? Huh.

"You can sing the 'ah's and 'eh's if you like," Regina said as a joke, but her tone was flat. She stopped playing and it was Henry's turn to dish out what he remembered. He learned to play very simple things on only his right hand, silly things too, like the theme to Batman or at his best, some songs from The Sound of Music.

Emma took Regina's hand and pulled her off the bench to dance. Regina raised an eyebrow but did not protest when the Savior put her arm around Regina's waist and got into proper position.

"What are you doing?"

Emma had her eyes closed when they began to step to Henry's monophonic tunes with the occasional chromatic off-key slip up. "There was a couple I used to stay with," she said, and Regina realized she was having another spell. "They were pretty old fashioned, liked to dance like this a lot."

Emma's brow was knit ever so slightly, but tight enough for Regina to start her healing process, but not removing her hands from Emma's or from around her waist. She visibly relaxed.

"Wouldn't think you to be much of a dancer. You're far less graceful in your natural state," Regina commented, the corner of her mouth raised when Emma delicately spun her. They were lightly dancing to a meter of their own, ignoring Henry's irregular one but regarding the melody nonetheless. They both laughed when Henry gave up and started playing Mary Had a Little Lamb.

"Every lady must have some degree of skill in the arts," Emma parroted. "They were the Nobles. A damn well fitting name for them, too. They'd teach me some moves."

"And what happened to them?"

Emma frowned, her eyes still closed. "Mr. Noble wasn't well. He passed and Diana - that was his wife's name - couldn't find it in her to pick up the pieces. Couldn't blame her, you know? They were really nice. But she had to let me go, I guess. I reminded her of him."

A tear found its way on Emma's cheek, and Regina briefly let go of Emma's hand to wipe it away.

"Doesn't seem as if all your memories are that bad."

Emma opened her emerald pool eyes then, and gave a sad smile. "It's the good ones that hurt the most, you know. Because they didn't last."

They stopped moving when they realized that the music had ceased. Henry was watching him from the bench, and when they caught his stare, they embarrassingly untangled from one another. He only smiled.

"I'm tired," he said when none of them spoke but the quiet became uncomfortable. He actually wasn't very tired at all, but he saw that Emma looked weary.

"Come on then," Regina said, holding out her hand for him to take. "Back to base."

"Ha," Henry said at the subtle pun.

Snow White held the hat in her hands, looking down the hollow pit and somehow feeling ridiculous that she was putting faith into something worn on the head. The more she thought about it, the more she felt almost uncomfortable. She was putting faith into the very mechanism that ruined her life. A mechanism that was done by Regina, and now, just this once, for Regina.

"This'll work? You're positive?" Charming asked Sidney, he, too, fixated on the hat.

"I have seen it in the act myself," he assured, but then brought doubt back into the picture once more. "However I'm unsure about its workings in this world. I don't believe it's that simple."

"Well," Snow said, crouching down to place the hat down on the floor. "I guess we'll find out."

She twirled the hat by its edges, and waited.