She loves the sound of his voice. The cadence of his accent, the soft timbre that brushes against her eardrums when he comforts her, the tremble when he whispers her name in the dead of night. It’s a simple love song, told in syllables and inflections and heavy pauses.

More than anything, Regina loves to hear him speak her name. Not My Queen, not Madame Mayor, not Your Majesty. She loves the pet names, the teasing miladys, the endearing and heartfelt my loves, but nothing compares to those three syllables rolling off his tongue.

Well, nothing except those three words that she’ll never tire of hearing. But still, hearing him speak her name, it does something to her. Catches her breath, curls her fingers, makes her forget her troubles. Makes her believe.

She knows his inflections now. The soft uptick on the last syllable when he’s concerned for her, the stress on on the second when he’s afraid for her. The sharp, stiletto bark of her name when he knows she’s not listening. All of them, music to her ears. 

Regina. Her name. Spoken by the one man in all the realms who sees her for who she truly is, who never finds her lacking. His whisper drowns out the other voices in her head; the mother telling her that she’d never be good enough, the father promising her that next time he’d stand up for her, the son reminding her that she would always be the evil queen. Regina. He says it again, and it drowns out everything but the rise and fall of his chest under her palm. 

He whispers to her softly now, lulled out of sleep by her hand lazily stroking his chest. She should let him rest, she knows; he’s been through so much today, even if he can’t remember most of it. She was sure she lost him, to fates, to the Fury, to the forces that want to see her suffer and deny her a happy ending. And yet, as the moon shone over them and Charon’s barge receded into darkness, he was kissing her softly and telling her that there were reasons to believe. His words, a balm to her soul, louder than the voices echoing in her head that told her that she didn’t deserve this, that she didn’t deserve him, that she was destined to lose him just as she lost Daniel. 

He’s here, whole and healthy, if a bit bruised and sleep-drugged, legs tangled in her own, a soft, taupe sheet twisted around the two of them. “Regina,” he whispers again, covering her hand with his own. Again, that slight lilt to her name. “If you keep this up, neither one of us is going to get any rest tonight.”

“I’m sorry,” she answers automatically, struggling to pull her fingers from his. “You need to sleep-”

“I’m not complaining,” he teases. “We can sleep later.”

His head bends down to hers, and he captures his lips in his own. She murmurs his name against his mouth, and she can feel him shudder against the hand he still holds to his chest. Apparently she’s not the only one powerless to the sound of a name whispered in the dark of night.

Robin is dead on his feet, but Roland is bouncing up anddown on his heels. His daddy is back, and Regina saved him, just like he knewshe would. They walk back into town, Regina supporting Robin when he stumbles.

“Daddy!” Roland yells. He’s five; he has no concept ofvolume. “Let’s go to Granny’s! Henry is there!”

Regina looks up. Sure enough, Snow and Charming are walkinginto Granny’s, Snow cradling baby Neal as Henry holds open the door. Such agentleman. Her heart swells with pride at the sight of her son.

“Would you like to go in?” Robin murmurs in her ear.

“No, Robin…you’re not up to it.”

He pulls himself up to his full height and tucks a lock ofhair behind her ear. “I’m tougher than I look,” he says with a smile. Givenwhat he’s been through today, she has no choice but to agree.

“For a few minutes. That’s it. Then it’s bed for you.”

He raises his eyebrows at that, and she can’t help butlaugh. “Bed,” she says firmly.

“Indeed,” he agrees, and she has a sneaking suspicion thathe won’t be getting the rest he needs tonight. Not that she necessarily minds,but it does put a crimp in her plans to take care of him tonight.

Roland tugs at her hand and pulls her to the door of Granny’s.She laughs at his enthusiasm; she suspects it has less to do with the fact thatthey’ve once again survived the day and more to do with Granny’s banana splits.Oh, to be five again.

Then again, when she was five, her mother was admonishingher to sit up straight and teaching her Latin.

Roland charges in the door, and Robin rests a hand on thesmall of her back. Steady, secure, unwavering. “Come on, love,” he says, “Ifind that being hauled around by a minion of the underworld leaves me a bit peckish.”

French fries it is. She points them to a booth, stopping tocup a hand on Henry’s face and pat Charming on the shoulder. He smiles up ather, and the look he gives her gives her hope. They worked together today, forthe first time in a long time, and she’s grateful. Snow always looks at herwith such hope and love, but Charming has never been so willing to stand by herside. Perhaps Robin was right; perhaps people are starting to believe in her.

Who would have thought it?

Robin makes it through half a grilled cheese and most of hisfries before his eyes start to droop again. “Come on, thief,” she says. “I’mtaking you home.” She shoots a look back to the jukebox, where Henry is deep inconversation with one of the refugees from Camelot. Should she intervene? Shetakes one look at the smile on his face and she decides to let it go for thenight. Tomorrow she’ll have a talk with him. Tonight, she has more pressingmatters to attend to.

“Roland,” she says. He’s pressed up against Snow’s side,peering at the baby. “Sweetie, we have to go home now.”

“You need some quiet time,” Snow says softly. “Why don’t Itake the boys home with us, and you both go back and rest?”

Regina opens her mouth to argue, but Robin’s hand on herback stops her. “I think that’s a lovely idea,” he says. “Are you sure?”

Snow gives them both a knowing look. “I’m sure,” she says. “Go.Enjoy each other.”

Robin pulls her out of the diner. Before she can leave,though, there’s something she needs to do. She snaps her finger and releasesthe dwarf from his concrete prison. She’s the savior now, and even the mostannoying of the dwarves needs saving.