Leave Them Alone and They Will Find Home

She sneezed.

Then again.

It was the sort of whole-body sneeze that the shook the fairy's tiny body and knocked her sideways amongst the moss and grass where she was sitting on the forest floor.

Scowling, she sat back up, recrossed her legs, shook her head - and sneezed yet again. This time the force of the sneeze made the pixie dust that had slowly come to rest in her lap fly back up into her face and set off the whole sneezing cycle again.

"Bloody hell," she said, because this was Tinkerbell, not some ordinary fairy. "Not me, you stupid dust. I said, find Queen Regina's True Love."

When the pixie dust didn't seem to respond Tinkerbell swore under her breath again and began to scoop what was left of it into a leather pouch.

It was a perfect, calm spring day in the forest. Everything that should be green was a sort of soft, translucent green of spring, and everything that should be scurrying was, but with the occasional pause to sniff at the scent of blossom and growth. In the midst of it all a scowling Tinkerbell got up off the ground and, returning to human size, shook her wings and began the walk back towards the tavern. It was more fairy like to flit up into a branch and brood there. But lately Tinkerbell had enjoyed the soothing properties of a tankard of ale over a spring breeze, and the company of a certain human queen over the prattling of forest creatures.

The ale was good and the afternoon was warm. Tinkerbell sat at one end of a bench and stretched her full human-sized legs out in the sun. Despite the pleasantness of the situation her mood didn't lift. The pixie dust was crazy precious stuff and it was meant to work. Not only that, but she was relying on it to work. Who knew what that Blue Fairy would do if she found out it had been wasted. The more she drank, the less upright she sat, until her feet were back under the table and she was hunched over her third (or fourth, or fifth) drink.

The glower on her face was enough to keep most people away from her. But not everyone.

"What's wrong, Fairy?" A body slid onto the bench beside her. "Where's your other half?"

The fairy turned her head slightly, just enough to see that it was the Cricket. Tinkerbell gave him the sort of look that a talking Cricket deserved, but it didn't stop him prattling.

"I haven't seen you alone for so long, I'd forgotten you and the Queen weren't joined at the hip."

"Don't mention her. Don't talk to me. And don't call me a fairy. I'm a terrible fairy."

Maybe the Cricket wasn't as insensitive as he sometimes appeared, because rather than replying immediately he signalled to a waitress to bring the two of them another drink, then spoke softly, "Don't mind me, but you don't seem the wallowing type. More the go out and grab your problems by the horns and kick them into shape type."

"Yeah, well sometimes you kick a gift horse in the mouth and it gives you sour milk or –" here she hiccupped. "Oh, I don't know any more, okay! I told you to go away. Bug."

As Tink tried to put her head down on the table she knocked her half empty cup. It rolled across the table's uneven surface and landed with a small thud on the dirt next to quite a pile of others. Tink looked up from the evidence of her misspent afternoon, "And don't tell me to lay off the ale. I know what I'm doing."

"You might know what you're doing, but I doubt that Blue does."

"Oh please. If I ignore you will you go away?"

Jiminy lowered his voice, "I'm trying to help, Tink."

"Well I don't need a fairy godmother to help me. I'm a fairy. I help people. Even if I've totally, totally fucked up, that's who am and what I want to do." She closed her eyes and hoped that the town's unofficial busybody would get the hint.

Okay. Okay. That was better. Now with her head nice and fuzzy and her eyes closed she could think forget about what had happened with the pixie dust earlier that day.

Really it was a simple, simple exercise. It was the pixie dust that was complicated, not the using of it. Plus Tink had had lessons on its use for years now. She might not have handled it before until this morning, but she was certain that all one had to do was through it up in the air, breathe on it gently and let it know what it was that you wanted. She'd done that. She'd done that perfectly! Despite the Blue Fairy's ongoing instance that she had had multiple chances, she wasn't generally bad at the magic stuff, it was just the discipline stuff that she struggled with at times.

And, oh, all she'd wanted was to make Regina happy. Now she couldn't. And she'd get banished and lose her wings and she'd never see Regina again and - !

The misery and alcohol combination caused her to finally give in, lay her head on the table and sob. The Cricket looked about, completely uncertain at what to do in the situation, and scuttled away.

When Regina arrived a few minutes later she recognised her friend's form from back at the edge of the forest. During the last few weeks she'd come to look forward to this semi-regular escape from the confines of the castle when a happy, bubbly, shiny fairy would be looking out for her, and catch her eye and call her name and want nothing at all in return. Alone, wandering the halls of the castle, or watching Snow sew and talk to birds and all the other things that filled her day, Regina found her mind here in the sunshine with Tinkerbell. It didn't matter that all they did was sit and talk and drink, it was fulfilling in a way that Regina wasn't sure she'd ever experienced before. Or not since Daniel.

This afternoon however Tink wasn't a little ball of sunshine, but more a ball of snot. She was sitting at their usual table but had her head down amongst a collection of empty mugs.

Regina's instinct was to retreat back into the forest before she was seen. However Tink seemed to have a sixth sense and raised her head as Regina approached.

One thing that Regina had never quite got used to with her new friend was her physicality. Tinkerbell often leapt onto her bed, or touched and leant forward and grinned with their faces almost touching. She had no reservations about appropriate deportment or personal space or even deferring to status. Now, for the first time Regina was approaching her. She sat beside the fairy, who immediately turned to bury herself in Regina's arms, so that the queen wasn't able to move away from the very real physical presence of her friend even if she'd wanted to. She held on tight, and she felt the fairy's sobs calm and she felt their breathing beginning to align. As Tinkerbell ruffled her head in Regina's neck Regina felt Tink's hair soft and damp. She moved her arms so that they actually pulled Tink closer to her and resting her own face on the top of Tink's head Regina realised that this was exactly where she wanted to be.

Until now Regina had been subconsciously looking for someone to save and protect her. If she had had fantasies in the darkest hours of the night then they were about Daniel coming and scooping her up onto his horse and taking her away to somewhere where no one else would ever find them. Daniel would hunt for food for them, and he'd fight off any wild creatures. When she was scared Daniel would hold her just as she was now holding Tink.

Now, with Tink, being brave and strong didn't feel as overwhelming as it normally did. Normally when Regina thought of braveness and strength she thought of the times she'd lain in the King's bed and not given in to the temptation to cry. She thought of the times that her mother had tied her up and seemingly forgotten her, and Regina had eaten crumbs brought to her by mice. When she thought of strength she thought of ruling in a way that meant that no one, not one person, would ever see any sort of softness in her, because love was weakness and weakness was to be avoided at all costs.

"What's wrong," asked Regina finally (in a voice that she had once dreamt that her mother might use with her). "What's wrong?" Tink pulled herself back from Regina enough that the queen could wipe her hair from her eyes for her,

"I tried to use pixie dust to find your True Love for you, Regina, and I screwed it up." While Tink told the rest of the story Regina continued to hold onto her, and to wipe tears from her face when they continued to leak out of her green eyes.

As Regina continued to hold Tink it wasn't only about strength. This weakness that she allowed into herself when she admitted that she felt for the fairy's plight, this was a weakness that didn't make her feel vulnerable. It made her feel connected, and needed and like everything she felt might also be shared one day.

At last Tinkerbell turned so that she was sitting with her back to Regina, and was able to reach out for another drink. Regina still had her arms around her friend, and now she was able to rest her chin on Tink's shoulder.

"You know, Tink. As much as it fills me with wonder that you want to help me they way you do, really, just being here and being my friend, makes me happier than I can remember. You don't need to do anything more than that for me to feel you've brought me happiness."

At Regina's words a shadow seemed to pass across Tink's face, "Oh no, Regina. Don't say that. That's not it."

She said it again, more to herself than aloud: "That can't be it. I'm a fairy, and that's not how it's meant to work. Fairies don't do that stuff. That's not it."

So the young queen sat in a small town in her realm, and held a sobbing fairy and did believe, for the very first time in her life, that when she said, "It will be alright," that really, truly it might be.