"Good," she smirked and nuzzled her lips against his neck as he laughed wildly.

She set him down on the driveway, clutching one hand as they walked toward the front steps.

"Can we have ice cream?" Henry asked, giving Regina his best wounded puppy look.

She chuckled softly, helping him jump onto the porch step. "Not for dinner."

"But it's healfy," he reasoned.

"Oh?" She quirked an eyebrow, fishing around her mailbox for its contents. "How so?"

Henry jumped excitedly, ignoring her question in favour for waiting for his mother to place the key in the lock. She had recently allowed him to turn it and open the door all by himself. With a click, Henry had the door swung open and he raced his mother into the kitchen. It didn't take a genius to figure out where Henry was headed to, her sigh punctuated when she heard the tell-tale sign of the freezer door opening. "No ice cream, Henry, or you will not have a bed time story tonight."

Immediately the freezer door slammed shut and annoyed murmuring from the three-year old reached the foyer. God, help her when Henry grew up and learned to slam doors and lock bedrooms. She set her briefcase down by the side table and looked through her mail, separating them from bills and junk. She mentally went through her list of ingredients in preparation for the night's dinner, but thoughts of oregano and tomato flew out the window when she saw a letter written from Emma.

She grinned and dropped the rest of her mail on the side table, clutching the letter in her hand. "Henry!" She called, turning from the foyer to stand in the middle of the hallway. "I have something to show you."

"We going for ice cream?" He galloped excitedly from the kitchen, his arms outstretched and ready to be caught.

Regina crouched in time to swing him into her arms and walked the short distance so mother and son sat at the base of the stairs. She placed Henry two steps higher than herself so they were eye level to one another.

"Emma sent us something," she said, producing the letter.

"Yeah!" Henry cheered, clapping his hands then opening and closing his fists in a gimme gesture.

Regina carefully ripped the side of the envelope before running her finger through the length. A square photograph the width of the envelope fell into her lap, and she picked it up to find that it was a polaroid of Emma, tank top, cargos, and bun up, as she sat on her cot with Rex sitting on her shoulder and the corner walls behind her littered with photographs and drawings Henry had given her.

"Look, sweetie." Regina pressed her head to Henry's so they both could look at the picture.

"It's Rex!" He beamed, yanking the picture out of Regina's hands and studying it with gusto.

The move made Regina see the pinched writing on the white space at the back of the polaroid, and with the gentle persuasion of a tug, she managed to turn the picture in Henry's grasp and leaned closer to read it.

"It's for you," she prefaced, already catching the first few words. "Hey Henry!" Regina read, nudging the boy when he giggled and suppressed a blush at his first real piece of mail. "You're right. Rex is keeping me company. He gives the best hugs, but yours are even better. Don't tell him I said that though. Miss you, kid. Love, Emma."

Henry eagerly flipped the picture onto its front and all but shoved it in Regina's face. "Look, Mommy, Emma has my art."

Regina gently eased his hand to an appropriate level and continued to soak in the picture. "I see, sweetie. How about after dinner we can draw her something else to pin up?"

"Yeah!" He agreed readily and shot up to his room, picture clutched within his fingers as he bounded up the stairs.

She smiled fondly, turning back to the envelope, and was pleased to find the lined paper within containing Emma's writing. Regina flipped open the three-fold and read just as excitedly as her son had been receiving the picture.

May 7 2004

Hi,

Told you I would write as soon as I got here. I haven't figured out this calling card thing yet, but I'm resourceful. It feels really weird that I don't get to see you and the little man everyday anymore. I saw you guys all of twelve hours ago, but it feels like I never left base. That is definitely not a good thing.

To ease your worry, it was an unpleasant flight. Rex is a good travel companion. I caught up with some of the people here who also went home to see their families. Neal proposed to his girlfriend and I have been officially invited to this wedding. Actually, they technically already got married at city hall or something, but they're gonna have this big thing when he gets back for good. What do you think, is a wedding second date material or too cliche?

Henry's not the only one I miss. I miss you too, Regina. Be good. Don't make anyone cry while I'm gone.

Emma

Regina laughed and shook her head at the blonde's last parting comment. She could hear them in her head were Emma standing before her, teasing her of the same thing. Regina would scoff and shrug coyly making no promises.

Standing from the bottom step and tugging the bottom of her skirt down to its perfectly pressed state, Regina walked up the stairs, fingers grazing the polished varnish of the hardwood railing as her right hand continued to hold the letter, currently the closest thing she had to the blonde. After weeks of intertwined fingers and not-so-casual touches, the letter was the best replacement she had for Emma.

She stopped when she reached Henry's door and found her son sitting on the floor beside his bed and in front of his dresser, Emma's photograph laying a few inches away as he fiddled with the backing of a photo frame that encased a cartoon Mickey Mouse. Regina watched his frustrations for a minute, amused as his chubby little fingers ignored the fastenings as he tugged relentlessly on the stand.

"It stuck," he said, sensing his mother's presence and holding up the frame.

"Let me show you a trick." Regina stepped into the room and finally shook off her thin beige trench coat she hadn't realized she still had on until then. Laying it on his bed, she sat cross legged beside him and lifted him effortlessly into her lap. "You turn these," she said motioning to the fastening that kept the backing secure. "Then the back will come off."

Henry scratched at the fastenings, his short stubby nails useless against the piece of plastic. He shook his head frustrated and held the frame up for his mother to fix. "It still stuck," he insisted. "It's broken."

Regina laughed and undid the back for him, teaching him carefully how the picture stays in place. She briefly wondered if that was a mistake because once Henry learned something new, that was all he did until something else caught his attention. She wagered at least twelve of the house's photographs would either be replaced or missing within the next month.

Henry leaned over to grab at the Polaroid and placed it over the Mickey Mouse picture. The small 3x3 picture wasn't enough to cover Mickey's ears, but it was perfect nonetheless as Henry did the honours of replacing the backing and stood from Regina's lap to put the frame back on his dresser, beside his lamp and fairy tale book.

"Good as new," he deemed, beaming wildly at his mother.

"It's even better." She tapped his side affectionately before standing to her feet and holding out a hand for him. "Let's tell her all about it."


HI EMMA! IT IS HENRY. I WENT TO THE FARM AND MILKED A COW. I MISS YOU. I LOVE YOU.

LOVE, HENRY

Emma grinned at the crayon letter written on a numerously folded cut-out heart. A cow, two pigs, a horse, and a red coloured barn decorated around the message in random chaos but two stick fingers of Regina and Henry holding hands was centered at the bottom tip of the heart. Regina clearly helped Henry with his printing, if the too-straight lines and curly swirl of the Y's were any indication, but for the most part, Henry took special care in writing something for Emma. She knew for sure the toddler had mastered his own name and even attempted Emma's, though the loop of both m's seemed to be endless. The controlled shakiness of the "I LOVE YOU" made Emma's face split at the seams as she smiled fondly.

She set the heart to the side of the table she had claimed in the common room, drowning out the noise of the television as a group sat around the TV to watch Terminator 3. Plastic hitting metal clang through the room every few seconds as a fooseball game was struck just as Emma entered the room. Loud cheers as points were scored filled the corner of the room that Emma avoided, her own corner just quiet enough in order to read her latest letter from the Mills' in relative peace.

Making sure Henry's letter was put away from any prying eyes, next was Regina's letter, something she was saving for last because it would be the first time in exactly thirteen days that she would be hearing from Regina, and her excitement was getting the better of her. She tucked a finger underneath the flap and tore along the length, pulling out the monogrammed stationary, eager to read the older woman's words.

May 14 2004

Emma,

It feels like ages waiting for a letter, especially after weeks of simply having to enter a room to see you there or to call you from upstairs. I feel like a fool just thinking that, but no doubt you're smirking at the confession. It's true nonetheless.