You Have No Idea What I'm Capable Of

Chapter Twenty-Two

It was morning. Regina sat at the edge of her son's bed watching the child toss and turn in a fitful sleep. Henry had been crying most of the night. Regina had known Emma's leaving would be hard on him, but she'd had no idea it would be this brutal. He hadn't even been able to speak for some time after they had arrived home. He had raced up the stairs and into his bed where he lay, utterly inconsolable. Regina had spent the evening at his side like a faithful sentry, fingers stroking his hair like she'd done when he was little. Occasionally she'd caressed his cheek or rubbed his chest in comfort, helping him through the worst of the pain and tears. He'd often dozed in between crying fits, and it had been well passed midnight when he finally drifted off into something resembling real sleep.

Henry hadn't really wanted to talk about it, and Regina hadn't pushed him. When he had spoken, she'd listened and promised that everything would be ok. And now she just sat and watched his chest rise and fall, his breathing ragged and broken. Her heart ached for her son - and for herself, if she was honest. She sighed. A few hours ago she'd stepped into the hallway briefly and had made a quick call to the school; she had decided to keep him home for the day.

Regina ran her fingers across his brow lovingly once more. Slowly the dull morning light had crept up the side of his bed, and she inched closer to him. She placed her hand on his back and began to rub in gentle, soothing circles. She smiled at him softly as he met her eyes, but was slightly alarmed when she noticed just how red and swollen they were. Her heart made a sad little leap in her chest in sympathy, the sorrow practically overwhelming. I feel it, too, she thought silently before swallowing the pain and giving him a warm smile.

Henry looked up at her, responding with his own lazy, sleepy smile, and it warmed her heart. It had been a long time since they had shared special, loving moments like this between them, and she missed them. Suddenly, he noticed the sunshine leaking through his navy blue curtains and sat up in alarm. "Am I late for school?"

"No, Henry, I've decided you don't have to go today. You can return tomorrow - if you feel up to it." The brunette spoke softly and continued rubbing his back reassuringly.

He lay back down slowly, unsure, gazing up at her in bewilderment. Henry had never been told that he didn't have to go to school if he didn't want to. Even when he had been sick he'd had to go as long as he didn't have a fever. It was during this glance shared between mother and son that Henry's face softened once more. For the first time, he saw his own sadness mirrored in his mother's eyes, and she saw the realization dawn on him. Apparently, she'd been unable to hide it from him after all, and somehow this made her own sadness more palpable. Henry had looked through her and seen his own despair was every bit as dramatic and agonizing as his mother's. He now could name the look his mom had been wearing for days: heartache.

"Did you already know about Emma when you picked me up at Granny's after school yesterday?" Henry asked, his dark brown eyes looking down at his bed.

Regina looked away. She didn't want Henry to be angry with her. She didn't think her heart could take any more rejection, but he deserved the truth.

"Yes," she finally answered, voice barely a whisper.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked plainly.

"Miss Swan wanted to be the one to talk with you. She loves you very much, Henry. You have to know that this isn't about anything you did. Sometimes grownups have to make very difficult decisions. Even when they don't want to. Even when it hurts them." Regina felt herself starting to lose it. Her chest burned with emotion. This is mad, she thought. How was it that the town around them was going about its day, the wind still blowing, the earth still spinning, the sun still sitting in the sky - when their two little hearts were right here in the middle of it all, breaking wide open? It seemed so callous and unfair.