Chapter 17

                                    

                                          
I stood in front of the door for a moment, palming the cufflink in my hand nervously. I knew I had to knock, but I was afraid. It had been a long time since I was this scared. If I knocked, there was a good likelihood that I would be killed. Or maimed. Or both. 
                          
And that was if I was lucky.
                          
"It's okay, mom," Henry said, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder. I smiled at him gratefully. Taking a deep breath, I knocked three times. I heard things move on the other side for a couple of seconds, then the door opened. It was David. Crap. 
                          
"What do you want?" he asked gruffly.
                          
"I...I just wanted..." Why was I so nervous? I shouldn't really be afraid of David, even if he was the father of the woman whose heart is just broken.
                          
Oh, yes; that's exactly why I was nervous. 
                          
"You just wanted to what?" he said. "Hurt our daughter more?" 
                          
"David..." I heard Mary Margaret try to calm him. 
                          
"Let me take care of this," he said, turning to look at her. Then he halted back at me. "Well? Spit it out."
                          
"I just wanted to speak with you." I said quietly.
                          
"Well, I have nothing to say to you, Regina," he said, and started to shut the door on me. 
                          
"Wait, Grandpa," Henry interjected, strong around me so David could see him.
                          
"Henry?," David asked, surprised. "What are you..."
                          
"You need to listen to her." 
                          
David pressed his lips together, debating whether or not to let me in. "Fine," he said, stepping out of the way. I walked inside, avoiding David's menacing gaze. I heard the door click behind me rather ominously. It made me uneasy. 
                          
David came around and leaned up against the table, facing me. "Well," he said, folding his arms. "What do you need to talk about.
                          
I started palming the cufflink again nervously. God, I needed to pull myself together. 
                          
"Henry found this in Archie's office today," I said, holding my hand out to David. He took the cufflink and put it up close to his face to examine it. "Look familiar?" I asked. 
                          
"Yes" he replied. "It's my crest. But I don't understand..."
                          
Mary Margaret got up from her place at the table and looked at it. "You don't even wear cuff links," she whispered. 
                          
"Exactly," I confirmed. I was growing bolder, my nervous kid ebbing away. "So can someone please tell me why this was in Archie's office? Who else would wear your crest."
                          
David deliberated. His brow furrowed, and his lips pressed together in frustration. Suddenly, the furrows in his forehead deepened from deliberation to rage. 
                          
"I know exactly who did this," he said in a low, savage voice. 
                          
"Who?" Mary Margaret asked in her light, soft voice. 
                          
"The only other man alive who shares my crest; the one who gave it to me in the first place."
                          
"King George?!?" Mary Margaret exclaimed.
                          
"Spencer," I spat. 
                          
"Indeed," David affirmed.
                          
"I don't understand," I said, shaking my head. "He came to my office almost threw weeks ago and threatened me; why is he after me? I didn't do anything to him!" 
                          
"He's not after you," David explained. "He's not even really after Emma; he's after me. He's trying to get at me by attacking my family...again." 
                          
"Will he ever stop?" Mary Margaret said, exasperated, but also worried. 
                          
"Oh, he will this time," David assured. "I'll see to that." He got up and started grabbing his things: his belt, his jacket, and his badge. 
                          
"You're going now?" I asked. 
                          
"Yes," he replied. "The sooner we get that bastard in jail, the better I'll feel." He leaned over, quickly pecked Mary Margaret on the cheek, and rushed out the door. Suddenly it was just the two of us. One could have cut a knife through the awkward silence.
                          
Finally, she spoke. "Emma won't be here for a while." 
                          
"I know." 
                          
She nodded. "Wanna talk about it at all?"
                          
"No," I said shortly.
                          
She sighed. "I know we haven't always been very close, but now I can say that we are friends. And, even if you can't tell me as a friend, I am Emma's mother; I think I have a right to know what's going on." 
                          
I could see her point. I was responsible for Emma's current condition. So I told her everything (minus...certain details). I told her about the kiss, about trying to  end it at the office, about Spencer, about sneaking around, and finally ending it all. By the end of it I was sitting in the chair sobbing. I had never been this vulnerable. And, though I hated it, I had to admit that at took a lot of weight off my shoulders. 
                          
Mary Margaret didn't speak once during the entire story. She merely nodded on occasion. At one point, I wondered if she had even heard me. After I finished she sat in silence for a bit. Finally she spoke.
                          
"So, you've told me what happened...but you never said how you feel about her."
                          
"Why does everyone ask me that?" I asked, exasperated. 
                          
"Well, because it matters."
                          
"I don't know...all I know is that she makes me happy just by being in the room; I know that she's the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life, both inside and out; I know that I think about her all the time, even when I'm dreaming; I know that I don't want to live without her in my life." 
                          
"So why did you end things with her?" 
                          
I wasn't sure if I wanted to answer that question. However, since I was already on a roll, I thought I might as well tell her everything. 
                          
"I...I'm meant to be with Robin," I said. 
                          
"What?" That clearly wasn't quite the answer she had expected. "What do you mean, 'meant to be?'" 
                          
"When I was in the Enchanted Forest, just after marrying your father, I met Tinkerbell. She wanted to help me find happiness, so she used pixie dust to find the man I was destined to be with. And it led me to a man with a lion tattoo: Robin Hood."
                          
"Oh, I see," said Mary Margaret.  
                          
"I do care for Emma, but I do not want to lead her on when I am meant for another. I can't..." Tears started welling in my eyes, and I had to fight to stop myself from crying again. 
                          
"I understand," Mary Margaret said, compassion in her eyes. 
                          
"You do?" 
                          
She nodded. "Pixie dust never lies, right?"
                          
I nodded, smiling. "Right." She smiled, and we chatted about unimportant things for a couple of minutes before she walked me to the door.
                          
It was a relief that she understood my decision...yet my heart still fell a little after she did. There was a part of me that had hoped she wouldn't: that she would challenge me and convince me to change my mind. Would I have even listened?