Regina

"Show yourself before I set fire to the earth you stand on."

Her eyes shot to the rustling foliage as her nostrils flared with the thrill of a possible fight, fire burning at her fingertips and a thirst for blood thrumming through her veins as she awaited her predator's attack. She was exhausted, her feet were swollen and blistered in her boots and her neck was aching something terrible from countless nights spent sleeping on the ground and studiously ignoring both the Charmings and Emma for fear that she would soon kill them all - she was in no mood.

In all honesty, she was hoping to find either Pan or one of his vicious four-foot cronies hiding behind the shrubbery but instead she was surprised when, rather timidly, an even smaller boy appeared before her.

His hair was wild, curls ragged and matted with dirt, his cheeks were smudged with mud and his clothes were ripped and frayed. He carried nothing other than a small tattered teddy that was clutched in a tight palm, its legs dragging on the ground with each small step the child took. Dark eyes were on her hand and the fire still burning bright within and so, after a moment of staring rather dumbfoundedly at the boy, she closed her fist and extinguished the flame with a growing frown.

He didn't look like one of Pan's boys but she was no fool to Neverland's ways, the land itself as terrible and manipulative as its leader so she moved no closer to the child but instead kept her eyes trained upon his, her head tilted in her studying.

"You can do magic?"

His little voice tugged at her heart, at the mother inside of her who ached to call him over and wipe away the tears she could see glistening on his cheeks but if he was nothing more than a decoy, an illusion sent to leave her vulnerable to attack then she would never find her Henry and that was something she couldn't risk. "I can," she replied calmly and evenly, still watching him for signs of sudden movement but he simply stood and stared up at her with a quivering lip as he chewed at his thumb.

"My papa said that magic is bad," he told her, his voice growing tight and his eyes watering. She guessed it to be at the mention of his father though she couldn't say for sure as her head tilted even further, her brow furrowing as her eyes narrowed slightly because he didn't seem to be a shapeshifting sprite nor could she detect any new magic in the air.

Regina took a cautious step closer to the boy, breathing steadily with hands ready by her side as she asked "and where is your papa?"

His bottom lip wobbled once more as fresh tears trailed from his unblinking eyes, "in the 'chanted Forest"

Her ears perked at that, at the mention of a home that had once been her own. She softened both her stance and her demeanour a little when she asked "and why isn't he here with you?"

"The man said that the shadow only comes for children," he explained tearfully, "he told me to say some words and when it came I'd be okay but I wasn't…" he was crying in earnest now, his cherubic face scrunched with distress as he told her "he took me from papa."

"Why did the man want you to call for the shadow, sweetheart?" she couldn't help the endearment as much as she couldn't help but walk closer to him, her own expression sympathetic for his little cries were unbearably sad.

He hiccuped as he moved to speak, bringing the hand not holding his teddy up to rub at his eye before managing "he wanted to get to his Henny."

Her blood ran cold at that, her lips parting on a gasp as she froze in place - Neverland suddenly felt a lot colder. "Wh-what," she coughed lightly to clear her throat as she lightened her voice in attempts not to frighten the boy even more, "what was the man's name?" and when the child only continued to cry, sniffling, she asked "was it Neal?"

"Yeah!" he seemed to perk at that and instantly she was dropping to her knees before him, this child was not dangerous but he was most certainly lost. And Neal was alive?

"Oh, sweetheart. How long have you been here?" she asked, unsure of how to comfort the boy without frightening him though she was encouraged by the way he seemed to shuffle a little closer to her so that the toes of his tiny brown boots were half an inch from touching her knees.

He shook his head, his bottom lip pulled out in the most heartbreaking of pouts "I don't know," before he was trembling and falling into her open arms, "I wanna go home!"

"I know, little one" she soothed, holding him to her with an arm around his waist and a hand in his hair as she rocked them slowly from side to side in the hopes of comforting him, "so do I."

"You have a child with you…"

"Well deduced, idiot." Regina snarled at Charming as she passed him, ignoring the way he watched her, the way they all watched her. The boy, Roland he'd told her, had fallen asleep a little over ten minutes ago, his small body exhausted. He'd wrapped his arms around her neck and laid his head upon her shoulder as she'd carried him, no doubt finally feeling safe enough to sleep. She knelt down beside her sleeping mat as slowly as she could, using a hand on the back of his head to keep it from lolling back as she tilted him in her arms to lay him down to sleep. He began fussing the moment her hands left him and so, rather carefully, she pulled him back up into her embrace, this time holding him as she had Henry when he'd been a newborn, cradled in her arms.

He settled instantly and turned his face into her chest, smacking his lips before he grew silent once more.

She watched him for a moment more, couldn't help it when she lifted a hand to stroke her hand through the curls on his forehead before she looked up at the sound of footsteps to find Emma, Snow, David and the idiot pirate watching both her and Roland. Before any could speak however, she shared "Neal is alive and in the Enchanted Forest."

Emma's expression changed instantly, her eyes widening and her lips parting as she stuttered "h-how do you know that?" disbelieving as always.

Regina sighed, checking instinctually on Roland, quite sure that he was completely asleep before she explained "because your idiot boyfriend" she noticed the way the blonde's eyes flicked to the pirate for the quickest of moments before falling upon herself once more, interesting, "decided that it was the greatest of ideas to use this poor little boy as bait for The Shadow." She shook her head, chiding Emma as though it was her fault, "he was and still is absolutely traumatised and not to mention in a strange land far away from his father."

"Who is his father?" Snow asked, her brow furrowed and her attention focused on the child in Regina's arms, "do we know him?"

"I'm not sure," Regina sighed, her eyes once again drawn to Roland, her heart aching for both him and the thought of her own son lost and alone in this land, "he didn't say." her expression softened as she continued stroking her fingers through his hair and told them "the poor thing was in a terrible state. He's not even sure how long he's been here."

"He could be a spy," Hook pointed out and she couldn't help but scoff at him.

"You think I'm foolish enough to fall for something like that?"

He shrugged with an arrogant smirk that had her blood boiling in her veins, "we all know you've gone a little soft, love."

"And we all know you-"

"What did we say about the land feeding off of our anger?" David pointed out, looking from Hook to Regina to the brewing storm above their heads and back again. "Now I know you don't know Regina as well as we do," he directed his gaze at Hook, his knowledge of the relationship between the pirate and the Queen before Storybrooke lacking - he'd heard tell that there were old scores to settle between the two but knew his and Snow's experience trumped the one-handed pirate's by a long shot - "but we trust her judgement and if she says that this child is with us, then he is with us." He stared Hook down for a long moment, eyes hard and unwavering, "have I made myself clear?"

Hook's piercing blue eyes moved between his own, his expression reluctant as he finally sighed "crystal, mate."

Charming nodded, an end to that discussion, before he turned to find Regina looking at him rather curiously and Snow smiling beside him, Emma was too far gone in her own uncomfortable shock to do anything other than stare at the leaf strewn floor. She needed time, that much he could tell and so, with the same tone as before, he suggested "I think it's best we all get some sleep, get ourselves ready for tomorrow, okay?" and when they all nodded, some a little more begrudgingly than others, he nodded too and said "right then, goodnight."

She couldn't sleep, not one little bit and though she was sure there were others within the group as wide awake as she - she'd had just enough of Emma's tossing and turning mere feet away from her - she remained on the ground where she was. Roland was still in her arms, his head pillowed by her bicep and tucked under her chin as deep puffs of air blew across her chest. Her own arms were wrapped around his small body, keeping him close and ensuring he felt safe even in sleep.

Silent tears were trailing down her cheeks at the all too familiar feeling of a child in her arms, seeking comfort from her, finding safety with her. She remembered the nights Henry would pad his way into her room, thumb in his mouth and tearful eyes wide. He'd clamber on up next to her without a word and worm his way beneath the covers in order to shuffle close enough to wrap his arms around her waist and settle against her chest. She'd kiss his head and hold him tight until he was calm enough to fall asleep once more and in the morning when she'd wake, he'd be in the very same position. She missed those days. She missed her boy.

She tried to suppress the shaking of her body as much as was possible so as not to wake Roland, crying until she was too exhausted to do anything other than fall into a restless sleep, pretending the boy she held so close was her own.

Her nose scrunched at the feeling of something prodding it, she groaned in discomfort, five more minutes of sleep seeming like absolute heaven if only she could settle once more.

"'Gina" came a little whisper from above her, one that had her brow furrowing in confusion as the prodding continued. "'Gina, wake up."

She hissed at the piercing sun that immediately flooded her eyes the moment she blinked them open, a hand rising to shade her face from it as she fought to bring her mind up to speed. There was a weight pressing down onto her stomach and chest, a weight that she found, as she blinked away the spots in her vision and lifted her head from the ground, to have curly hair and deep dimples that dented it's face. "Roland?"

His smile widened, a sight she was glad to see after the distress he'd been in the night before. It never failed to surprise her how easily children could navigate through their emotions nor how easily they could take to a person just because they'd made the fear go away. She lifted a hand to stroke back his unruly curls from his eyes, chuckling softly when he fussed a little atop her before asking "did you sleep well, honey?"

He nodded before his brow scrunched and he told her "you talked in your sleep," and when she replied with only a quiet "did I?" he nodded once more and asked "who's Henry?"

Her stomach lurched at the sound of her son's name so soon after her dream. "He's my son," she began, smiling when his little face scrunched and he asked "where is he?" with all of the innocent tact of a child. "He was taken from me and brought here," and when he asked "by the shadow, too?" with wide, fearful eyes, she lifted her hands to his back and began rubbing soothing circles before telling him "no," and explaining "but by people just as bad, that's why we're all here, to find him and bring him home with us."

He nodded thoughtfully at that, no doubt a habit inherited from his father - whoever he was - before he was frowning, eyes falling to the hands he had on her chest and asking "do you think my papa will come for me like you did for Henry?"

Her heart ached terribly at the sadness in eyes that should know only happiness as she stroked back his curls once more and replied "do you know what I really think, Roland?" The boy shook his head and asked "what do you think, Gina?" in a voice that had a small smile curling her lips, "I think that if he's not already on his way here then he'll be searching very hard for a way to find you."

Roland's eyes glistened though the young boy fought valiantly to keep his tears from falling before he lowered his chin to the hands on her chest and whispered a broken but hopeful "yeah…" and allowed his eyes to fall shut at the feel of her fingers in his hair, comforting and soothing.

He's like a different child, this young boy. He's giggling, holding tight to Emma and David's hands as they swing him forward between them, his dimples prominent dents in his cheeks and she smirks at the sight without conscious thought because she's glad of this momentary reprieve for him. It also, a little selfishly, allows her something of an excuse when it comes to what they're about to do.

She can linger with him whilst the others search out just another person that she'd wronged in the past, another person whose helping hand most certainly won't extend to her and it's not as though she's afraid of what the others will think - God knows they don't think much of her to begin with - but right now she has nothing but her pride and she'd rather keep that last little shred rather than pull at old wounds that still haven't quite healed over because with the mention of Tinkerbelle comes the memories of him.

She's often found herself wondering - mainly in the years before Henry when Graham's gaze was empty and gutting, on the nights she longed for more than just the warmth of a body atop her own. She'd never forced him, never gave the order for his presence, not even the first night she'd had him taken to her bed chambers but she knew that she was nothing more than a way to feel for him as he was to her - about the man in the tavern with the lion tattoo, her alleged 'soul mate.'

There had been nights, lonely nights when her imagination had overruled her conscious mind, in which she'd dreamt of the life she could've had - or a life her foolish heart had believed he'd have given her - if she'd have just had the courage to face him. It's different every time.

Sometimes she lives above the tavern with him - it's his, the quaint little pub. A homely establishment loved by all but most of all by them. They'd spend mornings wrapped up in one another, limbs tangled as they'd trade lazy kisses in the warmth of the morning before their children, two little girls and their older brother, would come bouncing into the room demanding their own snuggles and breakfast. In the afternoon they'd all head downstairs to greet their friends and the children would run about with the tavern dog whilst Regina would flirt with her husband over the bar top and at night, once the children were tucked up safe and sound in bed, she'd welcome her husband into her arms and into their bed where they'd spend wonderfully intimate moments making love.

Other times they've fled the Kingdom on the back of her beloved Rocinante, not stopping until the Enchanted Forest was far behind them and they could start again, fresh. Where she was never the Queen and he could love her without shame.

They'd build their own cottage together, two fools in love with nothing but the clothes they'd left with and hearts glowing. He'd find work in the local village and she'd put her love of horses to use, tutoring young children and teaching them to ride and care for their own mares.

She'd tend to the gardens and create the most beautiful of havens for them to live in and they'd know nothing but love and the feel of one another forever.

Pipe dreams.

In reality, he's likely nothing more than a drunken fool with her luck and it's those thoughts that always have her sobering and letting go of her idiotic notions of romance and love with her nameless man.

Still, he's at the forefront of her mind now that they're seeking out the very person who'd led her to him and it has a great feeling of unease tickling at her stomach.

"And you're sure she'll help?" Snow questions, casting a glance back to ensure they've all remained close before turning back to Hook.

He shrugs with a nonchalant raise of his eyebrows - god, Regina would love the excuse to punch the smug idiot. He's loving the attention, the feeling of being the more important person for the moment - before amending "I'm sure the fair lady will at least consider helping us and for now, I'd say that's good enough."

"God help her if she refuses," Emma murmurs sullenly as she kicks at the ground a little harder with each step, dry, barren earth crumbling beneath her boots.

Hook chuckles, swinging his gaze back to the blonde as he teases "I wouldn't underestimate her, Swan" his smirk lecherous enough for even Regina to want Emma to move further away from him, "she's a feisty creature is Lady Bell."

"We'll see," is all the blonde replies and instead moves her attention back to the child tugging on her hand, pouting at her momentary lapse in swinging him forward. His giggles sound again the moment his feet leave the ground and, for the next few minutes, that's all the noise that comes from the group.

He giggled as she bounced her knees up and down, holding tight to his hands lest he lean back and fall off of her lap completely as she grinned and asked "how old are you, sweetheart?" stilling the bouncing when she felt one of his hands trying to wriggle free from hers.

"I'm this many!" he exclaimed with four little fingers straightened and his thumb tucked into his palm and when she gasped and cooed kindly "that is so many," he nodded before his grin deepened and he shared "papa says it's too many."

Her own smile curled higher on her lips for she too knew the ache of a parent with a child growing up far too fast. It was always bittersweet, parenting, for with each thing she taught her son, she knew it was just another thing ticked off of the all too short list she got to share with him before he nurtured his mind with things beyond 'Mommy' but the pride that came with watching him grow, with seeing the young man he was becoming outweighed the sadness. "Tell me about your papa, Roland?" and then "perhaps I knew him in our land."

It hadn't occurred to her, until Roland let out a rather squeaky "you're from my land?" that she hadn't actually told the boy who they all were.

She nodded, bringing his little hands together in her lap to ensure he didn't fall back once more and explaining "did you ever hear stories of the Princess Snow and her Charming?"

"Papa used to tell me about them all the time," he nodded in reply, "he said he used to know Princess Snow."

Interest sparked in Regina's mind at that, perhaps they were already closer to discovering the identity of Roland's father than she believed. Her blood soon ran cold however when the boy continued.

"He helped her when she was running from the Evil Queen."

"H-he did?" she stammered, unsure of what she was supposed to do hearing her former moniker falling from such innocent lips.

"Mhmm" Roland nodded. "He said that he taught her to shoot arrows like him and track the forest like him and be invisible like him."

So this man too was a bandit. Perhaps she was even closer to finding out his identity. Still, her heart beat fast in her chest as she swallowed thickly and provided "He sounds like quite the man."

Roland nodded once more with a proud grin on his face, "he says that if I eat all of my food and do all of my training then I can be just like him when I grow up." And when she nodded, still a little distracted, his grin faded into a pout, "but he says I'm not allowed a tattoo like his."

And it wouldn't have meant anything to her, plenty of people had tattoos, especially those who considered themselves bandits and outlaws, but she just so happened to catch the way Roland's eyes fell down to his little wrist before he was clasping a hand there and instantly her heart stuttered within her chest. It can't be.

She was about to ask just what kind of tattoo his father had on his wrist when he leapt from her lap excitedly and ran into the brush through which the others' voices were growing louder as they approached and she could do nothing more than sit in stunned silence.

Or at least until a piece of cloth was pressed over her mouth, the smell of poppies invading and numbing her senses until she was slumping in a pair of arms with just four words whispered into her ear that told her exactly who had grabbed her.

"Ain't fate a bitch."

"Gina!"

She held back a groan when a little body ran at hers, sending a jolt of pain through her aching form as she dropped a hand to rub at his back, meeting the eyes of the others as she assured them "I'm fine." Because, for the most part, she was.

"You're not a nice fairy!" came a little voice from beneath her, one that she found to be directed at the blonde beside her when she looked down at Roland. He was gripping tight to her legs and scowling harshly at Tinkerbelle, "you're s'posed to help people not hurt them!"

Regina looked from Roland to Tinkerbelle - she looked rather stricken, guilt settling further into once bright eyes at the darkness she'd been allowing to consume her slowly - before looking back down to him and stroking a hand through his hair to regain his attention. When he looked up at her, his expression softening, she smiled warmly before lowering herself down into a crouch to better speak with him.

Round, dark eyes moved between her own before he looked to the small graze she knew to be on her cheek and back to her eyes once more with innocent concern colouring his own. "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head, covering his hand with her own when he lifted it to her cut cheek and marvelling at how sweet this boy was. "No, Roland."

"Why did she hurt you, R'gina?"

The others were listening too, she could tell, could feel their eyes burning into her back. Emma already suspected some sort of past between the two and though Regina held no shame in what she'd done - not entering the tavern at least - she didn't want the questions from Snow nor the teasing from Hook with the knowledge that, somewhere out there - and quite possibly Roland's father - lived her 'soul mate.'

She inhaled a deep and steadying breath, tilting her head as she tried to decide the best way to describe it to a four year old and decided on "she hurt me because I hurt her a long time ago."

"Why?"

"Because I was a very different person when I knew her, Roland," she brought his hand down from her face to rest in her lap, looking down at his soft palm before continuing "I hurt Tinkerbelle very much and even though she knows that revenge isn't always the answer," and god knows Regina understood that, "she couldn't help herself."

"Did you say sorry?" he asked her and she was so unused to a question like that without accusation that she found herself blinking in surprise. "My papa says that saying sorry always helps make someone feel better, even if it doesn't always work."

She smiled in spite of herself, replying "well your papa sounds like a very smart man," before opening her arms and asking "may I have a hug?" and chuckling the instant Roland enthusiastically accepted her invitation and gave her a tight squeeze.

Roland had played some more with Emma and Charming - the two seemed rather taken with the boy and she knew the reason as to why. He was a small reminder of the child they'd lost themselves, the years they'd never gotten to experience with their own babies - before he'd shuffled tiredly over to where Regina had been sitting with her back against the thick trunk of a tree and climbed onto her lap without a word.

It'd surprised her, the ease with which he'd taken to her and the trust he seemed to have in her having only known her since yesterday. It also warmed her heart infinitely.

Her fingers stroked through soft curls - she called forth her magic to her fingertips, cleaning gently as he slept - and she allowed her mind, for the moment, to go blessedly blank as she allowed her head to tip back against the trunk of the tree and closed her eyes.

She was absolutely exhausted, had managed to sleep a little better the previous night with the warmth of Roland against her, but nothing like she usually did, nothing like she needed. Every dream was filled with maniacal laughter and Henry's screams, he was always so close but she was always just too far to get to him. It was torture. Almost as torturous as reality

"He could've been yours, you know."

"Don't." .

"Well, he could have."

Her jaw clenched as she fought against the regrets she'd buried the moment she'd slammed that tavern door shut. "It does not do to dwell on the past."

The fairy laughed beside her, their shoulders just brushing. "You're one to talk, Your Majesty. Tell me," she drawled, "how did that curse of yours pan out in the end?"

"Bitter doesn't suit you, dear."

"And avoidance doesn't suit you, Your Majesty."

Regina breathed a heavy sigh through her nose, eyes still closed as she shook her head and asked "what is it you want me to say, moth?"

"I want you to admit that I was a good fairy."

"And tell me," Regina asked, opening her eyes and lifting her head from the tree to look at the blonde beside her, "what exactly is that going to achieve?" her eyebrows lifted in incredulous question, "we'll still be stuck in Neverland searching for my son and you will still be a wingless idiot clinging on to the foolish notion that there is anyone in this world who could ever fix broken old me."

"It's not foolish," she replied with a scowl, "and I am not an idiot. It's you who is the fool, Regina and because of that" she spat on a whisper, careful not to wake Roland as she stood, ready to leave the brooding brunette be, "you will never find your happiness."

She shivered at the featherlight touch of his fingertips stroking the length of her arm, a satisfying tickle that had her smirking into her pillow.

"I know you're awake, darling" he cooed with his own smile colouring his voice. He was close, so close that his breath ruffled her sleep mussed hair and had her pressing further back into him.

Her grin only widened when he stroked those fingers down her arm, over the delicate skin of her wrist and down to press his palm to her own, intertwining their fingers and bringing their hands up to rest upon her stomach.

His lips fell to her shoulder, pressing lingering kisses along the curve of it until he could suckle softly at the skin of her neck and draw a needy whimper from her lips as she pressed her hips back into him, feeling his arousal through her silk shorts and his cotton boxers.

"I love what you do to me," she whispered, her voice hoarse as she drew her arm back to scratch at his thigh, tilting her head back to her shoulder and moaning outright when he trailed his hand beneath her silk camisole and cupped her bare breast, thumb teasing her nipple into a stiff peak with gentle thrums.

He nipped at her earlobe and then the sharp line of her jaw before whispering a teasing "so responsive…" against her skin and sliding his other hand between their sides touching the mattress and sneaked his fingers beneath the waistband of her shorts, drawing a stuttered breath from her lungs.

"Happy birthday, papa!"

Instantly his hands withdrew from her as she turned to find Henry, Roland and a very sleepy Scarlett standing in the doorway all holding presents for the birthday boy.

She grinned at the sight of them - only slightly frustrated that she didn't get to feel his touch - before humming an affectionate "Happy birthday, sweetheart" and turning to face hi-

"Regina!"

She was startled awake by the loud cry of her name, heart pounding in her chest as her mind tried to catch up with her body. Instantly she reached a hand behind her to feel only cold earth where moments before a warm body had been. No it hadn't...had it? Her mind was foggy, her brain sleep addled and her body shocked into reality far too quickly.

"Regina, get up!"

It was Roland, he had hands gripping her shoulder and shaking her, his little eyes wide as he looked from her to the sky still pitch black and back to her again. "What's wrong, Roland?" Her voice was hoarse with sleep but her senses were slowly returning to her and, quite suddenly, she realised how cold it'd gotten.

"He's brought someone else with him!"

Her brow furrowed, the thought that Roland could be having a nightmare and sleepwalking crossing her mind before she asked "who did, honey?"

The others were still sleeping around them, absolutely no sound signalling the change on the island but Regina's heart ran as still as their surroundings at Roland's answer of "The Shadow."

Someone else was here.

Robin

He gave a guttural groan as he pulled himself up from the brush, wincing at the wounds on his arms and legs that pulled with his movements, blood trickling from a rather nasty one on his arm that had him cursing the man beside him.

"Is this the place?" He asked, kicking at the finger-like branches that seemed to grip onto his clothes as though trying to pull him back under and the very thought of his boy trapped here alone or with the very villain that even Neal seemed to fear, had his stomach turning with a rather even mixture of nausea and rage.

The Shadow had put up quite the fight, reluctant as it had been for them to come here but more so reluctant to let them go once they'd broken the island's barriers. They weren't supposed to be here and Robin felt as though the very earth around him knew so.

He turned back, at the lack of a reply, to see Neal fighting just as he had been to break free of the vines that had wrapped around his legs - he felt no guilt in allowing the man to struggle for a little longer before he pulled a dagger from his boot and began cutting at the thick foliage.

"Thanks, man."

He merely grunted in response before asking again, "Is this the place?"

"Yes." Neal's tone in itself was foreboding enough but paired with the poorly concealed fear in his eyes, Robin knew this wasn't going to be the easiest of missions.

He cast his eyes over the darkened earth, flared his nostrils at the smell of dark magic and listened to the cries from creatures he couldn't be sure were human or not. "This is the place you allowed my son to be brought to," he turned hardened eyes to Neal, "alone."

"We'll find him."

"We better or believe me," Robin warned as he turned his gaze forwards once more and began walking, not bothering to wait for Neal, "your life may well depend on it."