Clock Chimes

Chapter Six

STORYBROOKE, MAINE, 2025.
Three years after Emma's death.

Regina doesn't notice the tears until a trail of saltwater slowly slides down the side of her nose and splashes onto the island tabletop. Disgusted with herself, she vigorously wipes her face and downs a glass of water to moisten her dry mouth. She gives a defiant sniff.

She will not cry today.

Today is supposed to be happy, and it is. It is.

Not a single tear is allowed today, and Regina knows this. But this happy, happy day is exactly what's making her cry, even if she loathes to admit it.

Henry--her son--her little prince--is getting married today.

And god, she's so happy for him, but she can't decide whether the tears are brought on by the fact that her little boy's not so little anymore, or that after today, he will no longer belong only to her, or...

Or, that it reminds her of her own wedding day with Emma.

Or--god--the fact that Emma won't be there to see her kid's wedding day.

It's more than likely that it's all four, but in any case, Regina's sitting in her kitchen at a quarter to seven on the morning of her son's wedding, making coffee if only for the sake of doing something, and crying.

Which, these, days, is not out of the ordinary. Still, she'll be damned if Henry doesn't see a smile on her face and nothing aside from dry, dry, dry eyes on his wedding day.

It's the hum of the coffee maker that finally brings her back to reality--The Here and Now, which is what Archie has been telling her to try to focus on--and Regina moves across the kitchen to pour herself a cup. As she raises an old mug--one Henry had decorated back in Kindergarten--to her lips, she allows a memory to cross her mind of her own wedding day.

She pours herself a cup of steaming coffee with shaking hands, burning liquid sloshing over the sides as she sets the mug on the granite countertop. She breathes deeply, trying to calm herself from nerves, excitement, and the anxiety that followed not sleeping with Emma last night. She knows the reason why, however, and her mouth settles into a sunny smile as she imagines her future bride floating down the aisle towards her. She moves towards the fridge and takes out her Coffee-Mate creamer. As she pours, she catches movement in the corner of her eye.

"Hey, Mom," Henry pads into the kitchen, speaking through a yawn as he scrubs a sleepy hand over his face. "Kinda early."

"Kinda getting married today," Regina counters playfully, stirring her coffee slowly with a teaspoon as she smiles at him.

The seventeen-year-old yawns again, vainly attempting to pat down his unruly bedhead. "Can you pour me a cup?"

Regina glances towards the coffee maker, eyes wide. "You'll stunt your growth!"

Henry chuckles, walking up next to her and reaching over to pour a mug for himself. "Mom, that's like, a myth." He tells her with the confident dismissal only a teenager can manage, and Regina watches with horror as he measures creamer in and takes several sips without flinching once at the strong, bitter taste.

"Emma's been letting you have coffee!" She decides, hands on her hips as she stares up at her son. And--yes, okay, she has to look up at him now--so maybe she shouldn't be so worried about stunted growth. She laments for the days that he fit neatly under her chin.

Henry rolls his eyes. "Mom, I'm seventeen. It's normal. Besides, I've been having it since I was like, sixteen." He tells her, ducking quickly before she swats him, laughing all the while.