We're Almost Free

Chapter 15

A/N: God I hate mid-season finales...especially when they involve a certain town line...but I've said it before and I'll say it again, Lana Parrilla is a flawless actress.
If anyone needs a mid-season finale feels vent, or even just a general vent, feel free to drop me a message. Cyber hug to anyone who might need it right now :)

"I can't sleep," Roland murmured that night, snuggling further into her shoulder.

"That's because you fell asleep earlier."

There was a pause of about ten seconds before he spoke again.

"Still can't sleep."

Regina smiled to herself even as she rolled her eyes.

"Close your eyes and think of something nice. Or count sheep, that always worked for me."

"One, two, three, four..."

"In your head, Roland dear."

Half an hour later he was fidgeting again.

"What is it this time?"

"The bed feels strange."

She was about to scoff when she remembered something Daniel had once told her about a dog he rescued, who'd absolutely refused to sleep in the comfortable bed he'd made him because he was so used to lying on the hard streets and in rubbish dumps. Maybe it was the same situation here. Roland had, after all, slept rough his whole life. She'd willingly bet her locket the only bed he'd ever slept in was the ship's bunk and that hadn't been at all pleasant. Dragging the warmest blanket and a pillow off the bed, she created a little nest for him on the carpeted floor.

"What are you doing?"

"You're used to sleeping on the ground. Maybe it will help you drop off."

"I can't drop off if I'm already on the floor."

Regina laughed, glad to see he hadn't lost his innocent black-and-white view on things as she kissed him and climbed back into bed, letting herself sink into the comforter and falling asleep immediately, tiredness outweighing everything she had to deal with.

She woke with the dawn chorus next morning and revelled in the luxury of being able to just lie there and do nothing. No food to cook, no cold or predators to worry about. At least not directly. Looking over at Roland she saw him curled up under the blanket, thumb in his mouth and smiling in his sleep. He looked so peaceful.

Her hand went to her chest, feeling for her grandmother's locket which she hadn't thought about in months. It wasn't there. Throwing the covers back she searched her bag and the room as thoroughly as she could while not making any noise but to no avail. Eventually she concluded sadly that it must have either snagged on a branch or gotten lost at sea. Regina couldn't help feeling a little nostalgic for that locket. It contained the only likeness of Daniel, who was fading from her memory with every passing day, plus it was the only thing her father's mother had ever given to her. She hadn't even been born then, but as the story went old Mother Lucas had somehow known the unborn baby would be a girl, whilst Cora had been adamant it would be a boy. Not to be deterred by her prickly daughter-in-law she'd left the baby her precious locket in her will, to be given to her as her father deemed appropriate. He had presented it to her as soon as she was big enough not to swallow it, and Regina had worn it ever since much to her mother's distaste.

Picking up the book that still lay open from last night she fastened the robe over her borrowed nightgown and curled up in the easy chair, not bothered about the actual story for she knew what happened. Instead she looked wistfully at the pictures: of the first meeting and instant spark, the first time he held her in his arms, the first kiss, then finally the happy couple framed in a heart-shape of flowers held up by little birds. The two looked so content, their happy ever after was just beginning. It felt like she'd never get hers, what with displeased mothers and stalker kings, creepy captains and vicious pirates. Not to mention the fact that the man she... Roland's father, she reminded herself, could be anywhere by now. She still couldn't get the image of him injured out of her head, and she just knew something had happened to him. She didn't know what she'd do if he were... No. She couldn't think like that. Roland was depending on him being alive; to be honest, so was she. She wanted to have someone to hold her, tell her things would be all right, just once. She was only nineteen, her father had still sometimes taken pleasure in spoiling her before her engagement and she didn't feel she could go on much longer if she couldn't break down the façade to someone soon. Or was she twenty now? Her birthday was in winter but she'd lost track of the days.