2Regina stared wearily out from behind the heavy cloaking curtains of her silent shadow filled office at the slowly brightening town that was to have been her second chance and somehow couldn't even manage grief let alone rage.
She had forced herself to work through the night again, knowing full well that sheer exhaustion and too many meals missed would combine brutally with the seemingly endless stacks of idiot paperwork to edge her towards a migraine.
Had, in fact, self-spitefully rather looked forward to the pain.
Her crimson lips twisted in slow soul bitter amusement.
She was long past believing she deserved anything more.
Regina's dark dulled eyes watched the dawn reflect its brilliant pinks and oranges across the nearest roofs without letting herself feel any of its utter beauty.
"Fool," she sneered quietly at herself, "fool."
Vengeance was, after all, an acquired taste.
And the Evil Queen had taught them all how to like it.
Regina leaned forward until she could rest her agonized head against the chilled glass and shut her eyes, listening to the familiar ordinary first sounds of the town waking up. A screen door banging open there. A car starting up grudgingly over here. An overly excited dog barking somewhere beyond. She wondered absently a moment if it was Pongo and Dr. Hopper going on their ritual walk before realizing that it really didn't matter at all if it was.
It wasn't as if they would be coming here anyway.
Or anyone else for that matter.
Unless, of course, they had come up with some new accusation to make against her.
Or suddenly needed her hated magic to save them.
Regina snorted.
She should go back to the mansion. But without Henry, it had stopped being a home and become more an overly expensive prison. And one lacking in even the small comfort of the companionship of a guard.
It was interesting how quickly the place you loved could become the place you hated.
Regina slowly wrapped her silk clad arms around herself and held on tightly.
Each day had become the perfect karma return of her Curse.
An endless repetition of isolation and regret.
She had begun enjoying Emma's anger and the Two Idiots' self-righteous demands, Henry's hatred and the town's simmering mob anger-just for the relieving breaks they gave her from her own mind.
Even the threats of true imprisonment or death had become a morbid pleasure of a sort.
Because as the self-induced piercing pain in her skull witnessed, the hellish truth of it all was that no matter what they did to her, no matter how humiliating it was or how much it made her suffer, she knew as well as they did that she deserved it. Had more than earned it.
In fact, it had begun to feel . . . right suffering.
As if she . . . wanted it. No, needed it. Like some twisted form of penance for all her sins.
She wondered what Dr. Hopper would say to that.
Was it madness at long last?
Or just her utter despair?
Regina began to uncontrollably shiver and held herself tighter, bruisingly.
Yet, even now, in this heart crushing life she had found herself trapped in, some secret pitiful childlike part of the once Evil Queen wished wildly and desperately for her own miraculous fairytale rescue.
However undeserved it was.
And however impossible it might be.
Even while at the same moment, she knew to her infinite shame that the mangled and agonized thing that had once been her soul would just as joyfully wept in utter gratitude merely to have her story finally come to an end.
She had been so tired for so very long.
So very, very tired.
And she no longer even knew if it was pride or hope that kept her here.
Stiffly, fragilely, she forced her eyes open and turned away from the window to walk slowly back to her darkly ornate desk. She sat as carefully as if she might shatter like a mirror and found herself smoothing the expensive fabric of her pencil skirt over and over just to give her finely manicured hands something to do besides clench and made herself stop.
And suddenly it was all she could do just to breathe.