"He was down here during the holidays," Kathryn pointed out. "He didn't mention anything."

Ruby shook her head. "And now he's suddenly taken a journey to discovery."

"What does that mean?" Tina wrinkled her nose.

"It means he went to go travel the world," Ruby explained with just the tiniest hint of envy and resentment.

"Do you think that's it?" Tina asked. "He and Regina got into some argument?"

Neither woman answered her question, but they all knew, though no one had the courage to say it aloud, that whatever had Regina locking herself away from the world, it had something to do with a certain blonde-haired soldier.


"Emma, is someone bothering you?"

There was half a second of silence that was interrupted by the imminent static on the line, but the blonde spoke, cutting it off. "It's just–it's nothing I can't handle, I swear."

Regina bit her lip, not necessarily believing Emma but trusting her nonetheless. What other choice did she have really? "How much longer will you be gone?"

"Probably a few months."

She scowled audibly.

"Hey." Emma interrupted the complaint that was sure to leave red-stained lips. "I'll be back before you know it."

Regina woke, beating her alarm clock yet again, though that was easy when she hadn't slept a wink the night before. Her dreams wouldn't allow her to get more than an hour or two. How could she when every time she closed her eyes she pictured Emma in a state of utter turmoil—hanging by the wrists, locked in some mouldy cellar, beaten and broken until unrecognizable—Stop. She took a deep a breath. Then another. And another. Her imagination was good at finding the worst case scenario and even better at tormenting her mind.

Her latest dream had been merciful. Simply a memory of speaking with Emma last Christmas. Has it really been a year since she last saw Emma? She shuddered and inhaled shakily. Nearly a year ago, Emma was surprising her at a hospital and now she was lying on the side of the—No. That's enough. She didn't know where Emma was and that was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

Sometimes.

Missing in action. That was the more appropriate term to call the situation. She had wanted to throttle Neal and August's neck for saying casualty. It was laced with such finally and dread. Not that missing in action was any better. Regina was quite sure it just might be worse. This waiting game she had gotten so good at—waiting for letters, phone calls, visits—amplified ten-fold. Waiting for a body to turn up? Her eyes welled up for a second before she willed her trembling lip to stay. She was too tired to cry.

She hadn't been sleeping well for much longer than just last night if she truly thought about it, but she couldn't think about it, because if she wondered why she was so restless she'd remember opening the door to find a man she'd only read about in letters telling her that Emma was gone.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She was thinking about it too much again. Slowly her eyes opened, drawn to the swirled design of her ceiling where the moulded plaster spiralled in groups like a hundred rain drops were falling upward and her ceiling was a ripple effect. She counted the grooves, concentrating hard to only increase her count when she was certain the lines formed into a full circle. Whenever she lost her spot, she started over because it was a lot easier to count circles than it was to lay awake and think of . . .her. Thirteen. Fourteen. Damn. One. Two. She heard the familiar thud that was Henry jumping out his bed and bounding for the washroom, her more effective alarm clock that forced her to get up and out of bed.

He was lucky. He didn't know yet. Frankly, Regina wasn't sure she was going to tell him. She could tell herself all she wanted that she was saving him the heartbreak, that he was a child and he wouldn't understand, he didn't need to know, but who was she kidding? This was self-preservation at its finest. It physically hurt to think of Emma in any sort of distress—she couldn't even handle Emma having a simple, right, a simple concussion. If she just kept pushing it down, she wouldn't have to deal with it. She could pretend for just a little while longer that nothing was wrong.

But misery loves company. Oh god, what was she thinking? Telling her son something terrible just so he could hurt with her. She scoffed at herself and sat up. The Mother of the Year award certainly wasn't going to her for that one.

She wished August had stayed. She didn't blame him, not entirely. He and Emma were cut from the same cloth, and the news of his sister's fate could keep him in Storybrooke for only a couple days. He had to get out of here and clear his head. He'd send postcards. He'd promised.

So did Emma, her mind though bitterly. She shook her head fiercely. It's not her fault. But she told her to be careful! Regina clutched the back of her head and and let it thus against the headboard as she felt her breathing falter.

Now Regina was left to pick up the pieces of a life that for the past four years had been firmly stitched together with Emma's. The string that held them all together was pulled leaving nothing but scraps at her feet. She tucked her legs into her chest and wrapped her arms around them, letting her forehead rest on her knees. That was exactly why she had to tell Henry. He'd never not known Emma. The blonde was like another m—Regina gulped. Her eyes watered. She could have been. Eventually.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she promised herself she was only going to cry a handful of times today if she could help it. Wiping her face on her blanket-covered knees, Regina slid out of bed, donned her robe and slipped into her slippers. She didn't bother with getting ready any further or putting on make-up. She hadn't for the past few weeks.

The only noise in the hallway when she slipped out of her bedroom was the sound of the toilet lid slamming shut. It was followed by the rattling of the doorknob before Henry muttered an "Oh yeah," and promptly flushed the toilet. Light flooded the dimly lit hallway from the open bathroom door as Henry grinned upon seeing his mother and immediately threw himself at her waist.

"Morning Mommy!" He hugged her, bouncing on the balls of his feet in a preemptive need to be picked up.

"Good morning, darling," Regina greeted and bent at her knees to scoop him into her arms. He was getting bigger now, taller and more solid. Her mother would have scolded her for coddling him, but that only made her hug him tighter and press a wet kiss to his cheek which he wiped off promptly with a wrinkle of his nose and the back of his hand. "What are we going to do today?"

Tucking Rexy and Mrs. under the crook of his arm securely, he brought a finger to his chin in deep thought. "Play?"

"Of course, we can play." She made their way down the stairs, adjusting him on her hip to hold onto the railing.

"Eat food," he determined. "Aaaaand watch."

"Treasure Planet?" She guessed, settling him on his feet and ignoring the churning of her gut at the prospect of watching the movie and only hearing the laughter of Emma and Henry as they made farting noises on their arms.

"Yeah!" He raced off to his playroom in a gallop, leaving his mother at the entrance of the kitchen.

The routine of making his apple cinnamon oatmeal helped clear Regina's mind. Too much apple bits, Henry would find it too fruity. Too much cinnamon, he'd refuse to eat it.

It'll give it more of a kick.

Regina shut her eyes, forcing the image of Emma tampering with a perfectly good apple turnover recipe from her mind. If she walked through that door right now, Regina would let her alter the recipe entirely if it meant she was safe. Her ears perked only slightly, hoping to hear a knock or a doorbell or a rattle of keys but nothing.

Keep it together, Regina told herself as she stirred Henry's breakfast. It's fine. She exhaled through clenched teeth before spooning out the pot into a bowl for Henry. She carried a cup of coffee for herself since she didn't have the appetite to put away anything more than a piece of toast or the leftover chicken strips Henry couldn't finish.

She entered his playroom, deposited the bowl on his table where he eagerly sat and began chomping on the dish, pretending to feed the Rex family while his mother crawled into the rocking chair in the corner. Regina hadn't crawled anywhere since she was a baby, but she tucked her foot under her thigh and brought her left leg up to wrap her arms around. Making herself small in that rocking chair wasn't the typical stance of the Mayor who made every chair she sat in look like a throne, but burrowing in the corner was all she had the energy to do.

Her chin rested on her knee, and she only moved to take the daintiest sip of her coffee, letting Henry's chatter soothe her mind.

She had the laundry to do today and wash all the bedding. Even the guest room. That needed to be changed. Henry needed a haircut again, but that would take some convincing so that would be pushed to the bottom of the list. The developers want to create traffic through the town by creating a mega mall. Crush them. Let Felix's younger brothers know that she'll pay them to shovel the driveway and sidewalk. Have her meetings rescheduled again. She could phone conference the more important ones from her home office. Remember to sign off on her secretary's Christmas bonus. Henry's class was having a party for. . .Valentine's Day.

Regina pinched the bridge of her nose. Don't think about it. Don't. But how was she not supposed to? Emma said she would be home for Valentine's Day, some fool's prank—No. She wasn't a fool—some prank to surprise her during the holidays. Emma was mischievous like that, but so kind-hearted. Regina paused. Is. Is like that. She's not dead. There wasn't a body. She's just, just not here at the moment.