She couldn't pretend it wasn't a thought she had toyed with before. The idea that maybe it had been a mistake.

It had felt good, oh god had it felt good, to hurt Snow like that. Because even though she was just Mary Margaret, Regina took satisfaction in those small moments that struck a deep enough chord that she knew Snow White felt it too. And it hadn't even felt wrong, tinged with the sick drip of guilt and darkness that so many of her decisions tasted of. It had felt stronger, more justified, like for once in her life she had the right.

But maybe she didn't. Maybe it wasn't so clear cut. Maybe the curse had lulled her into a sense of complacency. The uneasy feeling that she didn't need to hold on so hard to keep control.

It was an idea she hadn't been able to get out of her head. One that had just grown stronger as time passed, especially now that Henry was in preschool.

Salting a pan full of eggs, Regina looked over her shoulder and watched as he murmured softly to the toys on his high chair tray.

She gripped the pan handle a little tighter, her heart swelling at the sight.

Things were going well. Had been going well. And she wanted so badly to trust that.

But her life had taught her to be suspicious of happiness, to trust only anger and hate and pain. So maybe it had been a mistake to let go of the person who tethered her to the darkness.

Dishing the eggs out onto plates, she cut a tomato into slices and placed them alongside a few breakfast sausages - the ones for Henry already portioned into smaller pieces.

As she sat beside him at the counter, watching him spoon what eggs and sausage didn't drip down his chin into his mouth, she smiled. But it was tight and not quite reaching her eyes.

Because this scared her.

This was a life she had never lived. A life she had long given up hope of having. It hadn't been since Daniel -

Regina shut her eyes tightly, a wave of grief washing over her quickly but sharp all the same. And it brought her thoughts back to Snow White, the place where all her idle thoughts had once lingered. Still lingered, if she were truthful. Henry did make it easier though, made the clouds in her mind clear, and dulled the pain of old heartbreaks and betrayals.

But again her uncertainty flared - her mother's voice whispering in the back of her mind. Though it was quieter than it had once been, and things that had made sense a realm away but no longer formed the picture they should have.

Since dismissing Mary Margaret, the few times they encountered one another had felt different. She had been distant and lacking the cloying over attachment Regina was used to from her. And Regina no longer felt either the urge to be casually hostile as she had before adopting Henry, nor did she feel the hatred and burning hot rage that made it easy and appealing to be cruel.

Space had made its way between them and although the curse had been cast as Regina's final victory and Snow White's final defeat the lives they were living were not those of her initial vision.

Now she had Henry. He was her happy ending.

Wiping his face with a damp cloth, she kissed his forehead, brushing aside thick brown hair to do so. He smiled up at her, eyes bright and full of innocence.

Because he loved her.

But even that did not change how tied her happiness had once been to Snow White - to her death, to her agony. It did not change the fact that her father had died for it. That she had killed him to bring Snow White her suffering. Because even with a new vision of happiness Regina knew that Snow White did deserve to suffer.

She deserved to be alone and miserable. Deserved to be cast off her pedestal and see that she could not be credited with everyone's happiness. And now that Regina had real tangible love, the kind not tainted by malice or pain, she wanted Snow White to know it - know that for all her supposed goodness and moralizing she wasn't any better than the woman she had cast into the misshapen role of villain. She wanted her to see that although she had preached forgiveness, and hope, and love, she had been the one to turn Regina to darkness. She wanted to her to see the life she had made with Henry, her happiness, and finally for once recognize herself as the villain. She wanted Snow to know the pain of that revelation, to see it and feel it firsthand. Regina wanted her here.

Taking their now empty dishes to the sink she scrubbed and rinsed. Then she curled her hand slow and careful around the sponge, watching the soapy water squeeze out between her fingers. There was a wet smacking sound as she threw it down against the white sink basin.

Drawing in a breath, Regina gripped the edge of the countertop and looked out the the kitchen window. The sun cast pale morning light as it rose slowly over the horizon. It shone on shingled rooftops instead of thatch.

Turning, she watched Henry for a moment - the way he sat contentedly waiting for her. The heat building in her fingertips and behind her forehead eased, but left space for uncertainty to once more work its way in.

She picked him up and out of his seat and carried him towards the front door to put on his shoes. As she held him, he automatically wrapped his arms around her neck. He was funny that way, how easily he relaxed into her, how implicit the trust was.

As their morning routine continued Regina helped him tie his shoes, held his hand as they walked to the car, and giggled with him as she strapped him into his car seat. This happiness was too gentle. She felt too rough for it, too unpracticed. Even as she watched Henry in the rearview mirror, felt the darkness lighten and fade, hope working its way into places that had long been shut off from her, she fought it - fought to hold on to what was familiar.

And like a nervous tic her mind went to Mary Margaret.

Pulling up to the preschool she parked, and got out to unstrap Henry and lift him from his seat. As soon as his feet touch the cement he was already racing to the the school door. Regina followed him at a close distance.

Across the parking lot she caught sight of the elementary school. She could see students at their desks through the windows, having started class earlier in the day. For a moment she thought that she could Mary Margaret inside, dressed in some hideously pastel sweater lecturing in an insipid tone as her students' focus drifted elsewhere.

Still, she followed Henry until they came to the doors where he turned abruptly to throw his arms around her leg. Regina's mind cleared. The picture that had been there an instant before vanished as she took in the one before her now. She knelt and let him plant a wet kiss on her cheek. Ruffling his hair, she stood and opened the door where his teachers waited inside.

Turning, she smiled to herself. This was what she should be holding to. She could change, be better for him. Old obsessions and pains needn't have such a hold on her, not now, not anymore.

As she started to head back toward her car, there was a sudden loud ringing - the bell from the elementary school. It cut through her thoughts and she stilled on the pavement disoriented. It wasn't often she heard it. Usually she dropped Henry off long before the first bell. But today they had been a few minutes late, a few moments lost as Regina's mind wandered and caught on things she told herself, promised herself she would let come and go instead of letting them grow into the same all consuming presence they had once been.

The bell though made the heat suddenly pulse behind her forehead, and the control she had with Henry at her side faded away. Because although she had every reason to feel secure in her life, having Mary Margaret in it would surely make that feeling a little stronger. Each insult and familiar cruelty would be solid ground beneath her feet, keeping her from crumbling under her own insecurities as she instead played on Mary Margaret's.

So, without thinking too much on the consequences she turned to the elementary school, away from her car and the careful route of her new life.

Walking through the heavy doors she made her way past streams of students on their way to recess. Quickly finding her way to the classroom she paused in the doorway, an unexpected hesitation washing over her as she saw Mary Margaret.

"Regina?"

Mary Margaret was standing near her desk, eyes wide and confusion written plain on her face.

"Miss Blanchard" Regina cleared her throat, and walked further into the room. She winced slightly at how juvenile everything looked.

For a moment she didn't say anything. She just glanced around the room, trying to swallow back the sudden uncertainty. Even though she wanted to relish the way Mary Margaret got more and more uncomfortable the longer the silence stretched on she started to feel her own discomfort.

Finally, "Is there something I can help you with?"

Straightening her jacket, Regina replied, "It seems educational incompetence is not an issue isolated to you."

The teacher's brows came together as her confusion shifted to concern.

"Is Henry having trouble at the preschool? Starting can be difficult-"

"I am aware Miss Blanchard." She said, cutting her off.

Mary Margaret fell silent and Regina shifted awkwardly, lifting a hand to smooth her hair as she continued.

"He is adjusting fine."

Still, she looked like she was about to object as the worried crease between her eyes grew deeper. So Regain quickly added, "As am I. However, his new schedule…is not always conducive to the demands of my job."

She paused. She wanted the heat back, the darkness. She wanted the surety of cruelty and the confidence that she was regaining control here, not giving it away. But the hesitance made her mind cloudy, and for a terrible moment she wondered how she could say this without it coming out too kind. How she could say it without being …or showing some weakness.

Why did she want to say it at all?

But then Mary Margaret stepped forward, wearing an almost comically serious expression as she listened for what came next. And instead of making Regina's forehead and fingertips burn and crackle, she felt a tiny fracture break open, and the words came out just as she meant them.

"I'd like you to come back."

Before she could say anything else, try and tack on a dismissive remark or rude comment, Mary Margaret was nodding - her face still as serious.

"Yes. Of course."

Just like that she agreed.

Snow White would never have given in so easily. She and Regina were both stubborn in that way. But now they were each different, and giving came a little easier.

And for a reason Regina refused to place, she was glad.