hunnyfresh - Letters from War

Rex is really good at giving hugs, and he makes the bad dreams go away, Henry had promised that morning in the airport.

Jesus, that felt like a lifetime ago. Hell, being in the sleepy town was like a dream. A blessed dream she never wanted to wake from. When she went to Storybrooke, she had no idea what she was expecting to find – her penpal, a friend – but she found more, and right now she'd kill to be– No , she just really wanted to be home right now. So she hugged Rex.

He was soft. Just as soft as the sweater, and Emma was sure Regina used the same fabric softener on him. He smelled a little like the sun since Henry liked to play with him in the backyard, but his snout was plush, and he was worn in all the right places. He was familiar. Safe. The closest thing to comfort she could find right now. And dammit, Henry was right. He gave the best hugs in the state.

She breathed in the toy and pushed aside the darkness from her mind, replacing it with a humming she hadn't realized she knew. It was the same tune Regina had sung to Henry – that Spanish lullaby mother and son had sung together as they went riding at the stables.

Arrorró mi niño, arrorró mi amor, arrorró pedazo de mi corazón.

Regina's smooth, husky voice momentarily overrode the noise in her head, and with careful concentration, Emma was able to focus on Regina, sitting on a beast of a horse as she held her son to her body, helping him guide the reins. She had grinned when she sang as Henry struggled to roll his r's or get the accents just right, but she kissed his cheek nonetheless and kept singing, and it helped Emma just a little bit.

She needed more though. More than just a sweater, more than just the best hugging dinosaur ever, and more than just a pleasant memory.

Because that man she killed, that one whose life she had taken away, he was probably a father, a son, an uncle, a brother, he was something to someone and dammit, it was him or her , and she was doing what's right. He could have killed someone. Killed a lot of people. Killed someone else's son, father, brother, uncle. Killed someone's child. Their baby, their daughter, wife. But she stopped him. And she had to remember that.

Remember that it had been worth it because she saved lives. She was a hero like Henry says. A hero.

Her ears kept ringing.

July 15, 2004 - Storybrooke, Maine

"Cocoa powder?"

"Check."

"Powdered sugar?"

"Check."

"Powdered milk?"

"Why it like this?" Henry picked up the box and asked for the second time with a disgusted look on his face.

"We can't send Emma a jug of milk now, can we?" Regina explained, taking note that she had the ingredient.

"Where the straw go?" He asked genuinely confused, examining the top and looking for a straw hole like in his juice box.

Regina grinned and shuffled the grocery cart along as Henry continued staring at the box contemplatively. "It's a different type of milk. One that won't spoil quite as easily."

He furrowed his brows, still unsure of this contraption his mother called milk before dropping it in the cart behind him and reaching to grab his favourite pick up of the day. "And we gots these!"

A bag of mini multicoloured marshmallows was clutched firmly in tiny hands as Henry grinned widely at his mother, no doubt concocting ways to sneak a treat.

"Yes, that is a very important ingredient. Emma can't have her hot chocolate without some marshmallows."

He nodded quickly in agreement, though Regina was sure it was just to speed things along. "Can I have one?" He squinted one eye and held up a finger in hopeful persuasion.

Regina sighed, barely containing the urge to roll her eyes. "I've no idea where you get your sweet tooth from."

"I'm sweet," he grinned innocently though by now it bordered on mischievous.

This time she did roll her eyes with an affectionate shake of her head. "Sweet you may be, but you are still not allowed a marshmallow."

He pouted and crossed his arms over his chest and glared.

"Nice try," Regina acknowledged as she continued her way down the baking aisle, picking up a package of chocolate pudding mix, Nesquick, and powdered creamer.

Regina had received a letter from Emma that day, and though she was ecstatic to hear from the blonde since the last time they had spoken on the phone was during Emma's Independence Day celebration, she was upset by what Emma had told her. Her nightmares were back, and though Emma said nothing more than: I've been having trouble sleeping. I really miss talking with you ; Regina knew that the blonde was haunted by something she wasn't ready to share.

It pained Regina to receive that letter partly because Emma had written it six days ago, so who knew what her condition was like or if she was over it. That was another in Regina's list of things that was difficult about snail mail. The distance between events made them over and done with as soon as the letter was put into the mailbox. But moreso, Regina felt utterly and totally useless. Before when erratic groaning and mumblings from her guest bedroom woke her up, she was able to check on Emma, sit on the edge of the bed and sooth her back to reality where they would sit and talk – sometimes of her dreams, but sometimes Emma begged for a distraction so Regina would lead the younger woman by the hand down the stairs and put on a pot, making hot cocoa just for Emma. By the second nightmare Regina was already pre-emptively putting whipped cream and cinnamon on the drink. But now, as she sat in Storybrooke reading about how Emma was losing sleep to her unforgiving mind, Regina didn't know what to do.

But she was Mayor after all, so within a moment she had come up with a plan. Hence, the sudden grocery trip and visit down the baking and kitchenware aisle. If Regina couldn't be there to be Emma's dream catcher than perhaps she could make the morning after more pleasant and easier to bear. Hopefully her plan would work out since she wasn't entirely familiar with the more creative items she could send to those in service. She had to think on her feet a little once she realized she'd have to modify her hot chocolate recipe in order to accommodate the trip to base, but she was fairly certain the flavours combined would make an excellent hot cocoa. It was the packaging that had her at a standstill for a moment until she got to the kitchen aisle and found the perfect container.

A plastic jar similar to a mason jar would do the trick already imagining the layers of cocoa and sugar and marshmallows with a dash of cinnamon on the top. She'd have to bubble wrap it just in case, but hopefully it wouldn't be considered contraband items. The last thing she wanted was for Emma to get in trouble.

"Henry," Regina scolded when a crinkling got her attention. Henry had twisted his torso in his seat and was trying to bite open the marshmallow bag.

"Pleeaase?" He asked as politely as he could.

Regina shook her head and removed his grip on the bag, placing the marshmallows at the furthest end of the cart beside the newly acquired jar. Raising an eyebrow indicating that this was Henry's final warning, she moved to her purse to fish out his juice box and a baggie of arrowroot cookies. "Trade?" She enticed holding up the offering.

"Yes!" He held up his hands in a gimme gesture and immediately popped the plastic straw up, taking a healthy swig. "Thank you, Mommy."

"You are welcome, sweetie." She kissed his forehead and moved to turn the cart around. "We just have to get Emma's tea and we'll go home–"

"Oh, sorry!" Kathryn Nolan, basket in hand, nearly collided into Regina as the brunette swung her cart.

"Forgive me, Mrs. Nolan, I didn't see you there," Regina apologized politely and maneuvered her cart around the blonde.