A/N: Hey all! The finale left me heartbroken, like many of you, so this is my attempt at a fix-it. Unfortunately I doubt it will be as easy as Robin running back to Regina, so here's me take on the aftermath. Involves a little something I like to call protective!Henry. I don't own Once Upon a Time.

Enjoy!

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Part I: Henry

The first day is the hardest.

Henry can't remember if he's slept or not. There are moments where he finds himself blinking, clearly having passed out on the couch, but there's so much disorientation that he's not sure what time it is. He knows it isn't healthy, but he needs to be awake because the last thing his mom needs is to be alone right now.

He'd taken her hand in the diner, gently leading her out and away from the family reunion. He'd been able to feel his other mother's eyes on him as they left, but for the first time he didn't care. Emma hardly needs him right now; she has Hook. And Henry really is happy that she's found someone, but all he can remember is the devastation that shattered his mother's face.

"Mom?" he calls.

"In the kitchen," is her answer.

All the breath rushes out of him, because it's the first time she's sounded relatively normal. She'd mostly kept to her bedroom yesterday. Henry's still worried because she never once cried— merely drew her knees up to her chest and stared into space. He hates to think of the thoughts that must have whirled through her head: how maybe happy endings were not for her, or (worse) how much she must hate Emma now. Not that Henry's exactly happy with his other mom, either. He hasn't been answering her calls.

"Whatcha making?" he asks, entering the room.

"Just some eggs," his mom answers. "Want any?"

Henry frowns because it's too soon for her to be doing this— to be the one taking care of him. She turns around from where she's been watching the frying pan to smile at him. Thankfully it isn't fake, but it's a far cry from the true, brilliant smiles that she's been giving him lately.

He knows his mom, though. He knows her stubborn pride. He'll buy her mask for now. "Sure."

She nods and turns back to the eggs. Henry watches her hands carefully. They aren't trembling as she cracks them open.

"I've been thinking," he begins. "We should go on vacation."

He's been contemplating this for a few hours now. He and Regina have never gone on vacation before; they're long overdue. Besides which, he can tell that the last place she wants to be is in Storybrooke right now. Emma won't like it, but right now he's the only one his mom's got. She's going to need him with her for the time being, at least until she cries.

He knows that she needs to.

A surprised chuckle escapes her. "Vacation? Miss Swan wouldn't be happy."

They share a glance, which tells him that she's thinking the same thing. Only a day has passed since he was protesting Emma's decision to take him back to New York with her, and now he wants to run away with his other mother. He grins a little bit, wiggling his eyebrows and making her give a more genuine laugh.

"Come on, Mom," he says. "It'll be fun. We could go somewhere tourist-y, just for a few days. Nobody will know us, no crazy magic to deal with—"

He leaves the rest unspoken, but he knows what she's thinking. No having to watch Robin and Marian being reunited. No having to watch everyone else happy. No having to endure the looks of either pity or contempt.

"Thank you, Henry," his mom sighs. "But we both know that it's just running away again. Like my sister said."

He opens his mouth to protest, but a warning look from his mom shuts it again. Is this some kind of new impulse? Does she believe that she deserves to have to stay here? He wants to tell her that no, she doesn't have to. She doesn't owe any of them anything.

Regina puts their eggs on two plates, handing one to him as she sits next to him at the island. They eat in silence, and it occurs to him that this is her first meal since he'd walked her home. She lacks any enthusiasm, but at least she's eating something. He gets up and pours them glasses of orange juice; she thanks him for hers, giving him another smile.

He's about to broach another topic with her when the doorbell rings.

His mom stands automatically, but he jumps out of his chair. "Don't worry about it, I'll get it."

She looks at him uncertainly, but it's clear that she doesn't really want to talk to anyone else right now. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's fine. You finish your eggs."

She smirks. "Guess this makes you the mom now."

Henry laughs a bit at that, but his smile fades as he approaches the front door. He has a few ideas about who it could be, and he's not very enthusiastic about any of them.

It's Emma.

"Oh, thank god," she breathes. She reaches out to hug him, but he steps back quickly before she can. He sees the moment that confusion, followed by reluctant understanding, registers, but he can't bring himself to empathize with her. Not now, while his mother is eating eggs and drinking orange juice and probably trying not to collapse from grief and exhaustion (he may have slept, but he knows she didn't).

"You should probably go," he tells her, unable to keep a small amount of coldness from entering his voice.

"Kid, listen—"

"I know you didn't mean to," he manages to bite out. "But right now you're the last person she needs to see."

There's a pained look on her face. "Henry, I just needed to make sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," he says pointedly.

The awkward pause that follows has her cringing, but he lifts his chin and stares her down. He has never felt more like his adoptive mother than in this moment. His warning doesn't stop Emma from trying to peer into the house behind him. She doesn't ask how Regina is doing; his tone implied enough.

"I'm guessing that you're staying here for a few days, huh?"

"You guessed right."

The amount of guilt on Emma's face is almost overwhelming, but every time Henry thinks about maybe letting her in, he remembers Regina staring while she rested her chin on her knees. She hadn't merely looked lost; she'd looked like someone who had completely lost faith in her own happiness. He never, ever wanted that for her, and he's going to do whatever he can to make sure she gets through this. Right now, that means not seeing Emma.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but he cuts her off.

"I'll see you in a few days. Maybe."

Emma nods, reluctantly stepping back. "Okay, kid. Do what you have to."

Henry shuts the door.

Storybrooke has returned to being relatively normal, after being on high alert from Zelena for a few weeks. Henry receives several smiles and friendly nods as he walks, all of which he returns stiffly. They've run out of groceries, and he's insisted on going out to pick up some more. He knows the way, and he knows how to use his mom's credit card (courtesy of his journey to find Emma two years ago).

He doesn't know where Emma is— probably with his grandparents, or Hook. He notices Belle exit Mr. Gold's shop, beaming as she goes, and slips down an alleyway to avoid her.

Earlier, he suggested that maybe Regina could start talking to Archie again. His mom told him that she'd think about it, but it would be some time before she would be willing to leave the house, let alone interact with other people. He knows that he'll have to drag her out of it eventually because she is hardly going to go willingly, but he'll save that for when the time comes.

He enters the grocery store, not paying much mind to other consumers as he gathers things that they need— milk, more eggs, fruit, carrots, cereal. He mulls it over for a moment before getting two very large tubs of ice cream (he's pretty sure that the stereotype of heartbroken women eating ice cream is overstated, but he thinks that she deserves a treat anyway), and is about to go up to the counter when someone speaks behind him.

"Excuse me?"

He turns and feels his stomach plummeting at the sight before him: Marian, holding a can of Coke and looking completely confused. His eyes automatically search the store for who he knows must also be here, and sure enough Robin Hood is on the other side, browsing for who knows what. Henry turns his attention back to Marian, offering her a small smile. He shouldn't begrudge her; it isn't her fault that she got dragged into this time.

"Hi," he says. "Do you… need help with something?"

"Ah, yes," she answers. "My son told me that I must try one of these drinks, but I… I don't quite understand what I do now…"

Henry almost sighs. "Well, tell your husband to buy it for you, first. I doubt the shopkeeper would be happy if you stole from him."

"Oh, yes, of course," she says, looking guilty. And now he feels even worse for resenting her, because he can see the kind person that she is. Still, a part of him can't help it because she's here and his mom isn't. He nods at her and hefts his bags to bring to the counter, noticing Robin approaching out of the corner of his eye.

He can see the moment Robin Hood recognizes him, and it only makes him walk faster.

"Henry," the man calls, and Henry pauses, not looking at him. "How is—"

"Fine."

Robin looks doubtful, and for a moment Henry wants to shout at him. Of course she isn't fine; her hopes for a second chance were crushed in an instant, and there's no easy way to blame someone else for it. He wants to tell him how afraid he was of leaving Regina alone back in their home because he's still not one-hundred percent sure that she's in the clear yet. He wants to say all of the things that have been bottled up lately on his mom's behalf, and he's sure that some of those things flash in his eyes because Robin flinches.

But he doesn't say any of those things. Because if anyone has a right to rage against the world it's his mom. Not him.

"Nice to see you," he lies. He nods briefly at Marian because marching up to pay for his things.

He doesn't look back once as he leaves the store.

A few days later, and the next person to visit the house is Tinker Bell.

"If she needs a little more time, I can just—"

And with those words, Henry has a feeling that it's okay to let the fairy in. She smiles at him gratefully before surveying the house, brow furrowing.

"Where is she?"

"Asleep," he tells her. "Finally. She had a rough night. I think she was having nightmares about Daniel. But she finally seems to be having some peace, so it might be a little while until you can talk to her. Do you want anything to drink, or eat?"

"No thank you."

Tink follows him into the sitting room, where he's been mindlessly flipping through television channels for a while now and straining his ears for more cries from his mom. He needs to sleep as well, but his worry prevents him from closing his eyes. He knows he'll crash eventually, but at the moment he can't bring himself to care. He thinks of the guest bedroom, where it looks like a tornado swept through, and feels his heart clench remembering finding his mom there after the trip to the grocery store.

"I just… needed to let it out."

"It's not been good, huh?"

He shakes his head. "I think… I think it's less the heartbreak of losing Robin, and more about how she can never seem to be happy. She lost me, remember? And then she found something else good in her life, and everything was great. Fantastic, even. He's a good guy. And I think that Marian, plus the fact that everyone else is blissfully happy… it's a bit too much."

"It's my fault," Tinker Bell claims.

Henry blinks at her. "Not sure how that works. That's another thing— it's not really anyone's fault. My mom's not used to having no one to blame."

"No, it's definitely mine." Tink laughs bitterly. "I pushed her to him. I practically force-fed him down her throat years ago. I don't— if it hadn't been for my interference in her life with him then, would she have taken a chance with him now? I told her it was selfish not to have taken that chance, but I guess that the selfish one was me all along."

"You don't know that," Henry tells her. "My mom wasn't even sure she would exist the next day. She liked Robin. She wanted to take that chance while she still could."

The fairy shakes her head. Neither of them are sure of what to say, instead turning their attention back to the television where Henry has found an old Star Trek episode. Having someone else in the house is comforting, because he knows that he isn't the only one here who cares for Regina, and he finds himself dozing off.

Coming back into consciousness, he discerns low murmurs nearby. Groggily he blinks open his eyes, taking in the view of his mom and Tink talking quietly on the couch across the room from him. His mom doesn't exactly look happy, but she accepts the sudden hug from Tinker Bell nonetheless, slowly wrapping her arms around the fairy. The sight brings a smile to his face, and he's glad to see one on hers as well. It's good that his mom has a friend through all of this.

(She still hasn't cried.)

"We should have some kind of ice cream chick-flick bonanza," Tink proclaims.

Regina chuckles. "My son already covered that, actually. Except instead of chick-flicks, we went with action movies. There's something very satisfying about watching Jason Bourne destroy every car in existence during a chase scene."

"I don't think I've seen that one. I still can't quite get over movies in the first place."

Eventually, Henry knows that his mom will need to open up about this. For now, though, this kind of casual small talk is good. It means that she's at least willing to talk to someone, whether it's him or Tinker Bell. He lets out a long breath because he knows it's been more than a few days since Emma confronted him, but he still can't bring himself to leave his mom's side.

(She hasn't cried yet. She needs to cry, at some point.)

This is the woman who raised him, who gave him everything. It's about time he returned the favor.

"People are going to stare," he says unnecessarily.

Regina snorts. "Really? I had no idea. Weren't you the one who pushed me to get out of the house in the first place?"

Well, that is true. He'd wanted to go for a walk around town, maybe down to the beach, but then both of them got hungry and decided to try and brave Granny's. It's Regina's first time outside in a week, and she'll no longer be able to escape the stares of confusion and pity. She's back in her power clothing now, looking every inch the Mayor of Storybrooke, and he can't say he blames her. It's a look that screams 'stay away', and if he's being honest with himself, well… he's going to be shooting a lot of people warning looks anyway.

Her heels clacking on the floor draw attention almost immediately, and Henry begins doing his job: glaring at everyone who dares to turn to look, laying a hand on his mother's arm and guiding her over to a table in the corner. He slides into the booth across from her, offering what he hopes is a bolstering smile, which she responds to with a mere flicker. There are a couple of the patrons he's been expecting here, but no one major, and he allows his guard to fall ever so slightly.

Ruby comes over to take their order, and for a few moments things almost feel the way they were before everything— Emma, the first curse, the book, doubting his mother's love. He chomps on his fries and watches his mom primly spoon soup into her mouth, and delights in making a joke so that she coughs and splutters and glares at him playfully. His heart soars when he finally manages to get her to throw back her head and laugh—

—which stops dead at the tinkling of the bell.

Henry whips around in his seat, eyes falling on the entrance where the family that he had prayed to avoid has walked in. Marian looks radiant, holding Roland close and laughing at something he says, but Robin freezes in his tracks. It's like he instantly knows where Regina is, his eyes locking onto where she sat. Henry, not so subtly, reaches across the table for his mom's hand, and gives Robin the most pointed glare he can muster.

Robin notices, and is startled enough to look away.

Henry is half-tempted to guide his mother out, the way he did when Marian and Robin were first reunited, but one look at Regina tells him that she's determined to see this through. She finishes her meal looking more composed than he's ever seen her, not even glancing once at the happy family seated not very far away. He emulates her, refusing to look at any of them either, and when the time comes for them to leave the two of them march past without a single backward glance.

It's then that Henry has an idea.

"I'm going to stick around for a bit," he tells her. "You can go home, if you want."

Regina's eyes narrow suspiciously, but she nods. The next breath she takes is shuddering, but then she turns away and is headed along the sidewalk. Henry hears someone call her name and sees Mary Margaret running to catch up with her, but he decides not to get involved in that particular confrontation.

He goes back inside the diner, walks up to Robin's table, and says, "May I speak to you both privately for a moment?"

Because Marian is a good woman, and she deserves to know the truth as well.

She looks confused at the request, but Robin looks resigned.

They go into the backroom of the diner, where he has them sit down like children to be chastised. Well, it's more Robin that he wants to chastise, but Henry reminds himself to be civil about this. Regina won't thank him if he starts a fight.

"Obviously I can't ask you to stay out of sight of my mom," he says without preamble. "But I think you ought to know how hard it is for her."

"The Evil Queen?" Marian asks.

Before he can stop himself, the outburst escapes him: "She's not evil!"

Marian's look hardens a bit, but Henry draws himself up to full height. He needs to make himself clear.

"She isn't," he repeats firmly. "The Evil Queen wouldn't have given me up so that I could have a better life. The Evil Queen wouldn't have tried to sacrifice her life to save this entire town. The Evil Queen wouldn't have been able to conjure light magic in order to defeat the Wicked Witch of the West. Regina— my mom— did all those things. And Regina doesn't deserve to be in pain every time she sees all of you."

Quietly, Robin asks, "What do you want us to do?"

Meanwhile, understanding begins to dawn on Marian's face. She turns to Robin, her expression shocked, but before she can ask, Henry answers Robin's question.

"Don't talk to her," he instructs. "Don't ever try to contact her. I can't make it so that she never has to see you again, but I can try and minimize that contact. She's my mom. She's taken care of me my whole life, even when I didn't realize it. So this is me, taking care of her: what she needs right now is space. Time to figure out what she's going to do now. You're going to give it to her."

"I'm sorry, Henry," Robin says.

He knows that. He knows that none of this is the outlaw's fault— what was he supposed to do upon meeting his dead wife again? Just tell her sorry, but he's in another relationship now? Henry doesn't even want to know what it would be like, but all he's concerned for is Regina. Emma, his grandparents— they all feel so far away right now, like a dream.

"Yeah," he answers. "Okay. But it's not just gonna erase her pain."

"I know."

He leaves then, because he can tell that Marian needs to process the information and that she and Robin will have to sort this out. He walks home in a daze, not really sure what he just did. He stumbles in through the front door to find his mom waiting for him, sitting forlornly on the couch.

"I…" she starts, swallowing heavily. "Henry, I…"

"Yeah, Mom?"

The next thing to escape her mouth isn't a word. It's a sob, and then he's rushing to her and letting her cling to him when the tears finally, finally come.