Behind Closed Doors

Chapter Twenty-Eight

When they finally arrived back into their town, Emma and Henry headed to their house to search for the lamp while Hook was still at work for the day. Regina walked back home because it was getting rather late and the last thing they needed was for Hook to come home and find her in his house.

As she enters through the front door, she immediately stops in the foyer and tosses her keys on the table with every ounce of frustration that she's been keeping bottled up inside for Emma and Henry's sake. It took everything in her to remain positive and hopeful just to protect them from whatever fears were clouding their minds.

Her head falls back, colliding with the door as she glances around the house that she has quickly grown accustomed. A flood of contradicting emotions rise in her exhausted body, but mostly, she's just feeling downright angry at Killian for stealing Emma and Henry away from her. That worthless pirate kidnapped her son; she was the one who raised him for sixteen years and in one desperate moment, her son was taken away from her for months.

Adrenaline pumps through her veins, her body flushing with a dangerous mix of heat and blinding rage. How dare he? Her heart pounds furiously in her chest, ready to leap from its cavity and seek revenge, but her thoughts are rudely interrupted by the sound of shattering glass. She jumps in her own skin, startled by the ruckus. Her worrisome eyes scan the house in front of her until she discovers a broken family portrait of Robin, Roland and herself down the hall. Obviously, the picture has fallen off the wall and shattered all over the floor and for a brief moment, she wonders if the incident was caused by her magic or if it was purely a coincidence?

She groans to herself and shuffles her heavy feet toward the closet to retrieve a broom and dustpan to clean the mess. She slowly sweeps up the broken glass, paying very close attention so she doesn't leave behind any pieces. She swoops down and snatches up the picture left behind. She suddenly stops, delicately running her finger over Roland's face, provoking a tear to roll down her cheek without any warning.

Even though she knows this life isn't real, her heart still aches knowing she will be leaving Roland and Robin behind. She's sure that this version of their life will disappear once they find that lamp and return back to normal and she knows they aren't real, but it doesn't negate the fact that for an entire year, these two boys were her family. One whole year as a family and memories that won't simply disappear when they return to Storybrooke. And of course, she always loved Roland from before, but now she's grown even more attached to the little boy and she looks at him like he's her son.

As she acknowledges her love for him, fat tears flow freely down her face and her mind wonders where the real Roland is today? His mother and father passed away, and she was told by Zelena that Little John took him back to Sherwood Forest, but it's all wrong. She should have taken him in.

Why has she never thought to search for him before and bring him back to Storybrooke? She loves him and she knows they were both so close to one another. He's all she had left after Robin passed, she could have...no, she should have adopted him. He needs a loving mother and a family, not a bunch of thieves drinking constantly and living in a forest.

"Regina?" Robin shouts to her from upstairs. "Regina, is that you?"

She frantically wipes away her tears, sniffling to compose herself before her husband finds her a blubbering mess.

"Yes. It's me, Robin. I'm home now." She calls, but his heavy footsteps are already resonating through their home.

"Are you alright?" He curiously investigates, bending down to grasp onto her chin and guide her face to meet his worried gaze. "Have you been crying?"

"No. Well, yes. I...I just," she uncharacteristically stutters because she's at a loss for words.

"Darling, it's just a photo. We will buy a new frame. No big deal," he kindly assures her, taking the broom from her hands to finish cleaning up which only encourages more tears to tumble down her cheeks.