A/N: We have finally reached the end of the saga that started in SAFE and concluded here. I hope it wrapped up everything in a satisfactory manner. I'm not anticipating any further entries into this universe, but I'm not opposed to a rare one-shot or so. We'll see.

Either way, I thank you for your kind words along the way; they have been inspiring. I hope you enjoyed the tale as much as I did.

Warnings: Some mild language, a bit of depression, non-graphic sexual situations and Neal.

The wounded sheriff is still sleeping when Regina comes to in the hospital room several long hours later. Bright rays of sunlight are rather irritatingly trying to stream their way in through cracks in the shades, and that alone tells Regina that quite a bit of time has passed since she'd been left alone with Emma after a painfully long discussion with David and Snow.

A long discussion all about how her relationship with Emma had come to be.

Not that she'd provided them with many details – certainly nothing intimate, and she never will be forthcoming with that kind of information – but she'd given them just enough to satisfy their curiosity at least for the time being.

They want to try to accept this new (to them, anyway) romantic relationship between the two women, and while Regina finds herself somewhat touched by the effort, she's also annoyed because it shouldn't be so easy for them to not care whom their daughter is with. They should be concerned that Emma is sharing a bed and her body with the evil woman who'd tried to kill them all numerous times. It would be understandable if they were bothered by it.

But they're just so goddamned good all the time that even when it would be acceptable for them to act like judgmental jerks, they try not to. That doesn't mean that they're all that successful at trying to be kind and understand because well, righteousness has always come terribly easy to these two, but they are at least attempting to be open to it.

They're at least attempting to let their daughter and their former enemy find happiness.

Regina is under no illusions that it could ever be so easy.

She hears the soft beep-beep-beep of the heart monitor, and it's soft but steady and so is her breathing when she remembers that the noises that she is hearing right now mean that Emma is alive and she's going to be all right.

Emma is going to make it through this.

Maybe if they're lucky, they all will.

She leans down towards Emma, wincing at her now much her sore arm barks at her, reminding her of the bullet that had torn through it a few hours earlier. Of course, this pain is completely inconsequential to her especially considering how dark and deep almost all of the marks on Emma's body have gotten; if she'd looked bad yesterday, she's ten times worse today.

She imagines that Emma's going to feel that much worse, too.

No matter what, Emma is going to be in this bed for a time to come; her injuries are severe even if they're no longer considered to be life threatening as long as there are no bizarre twists in the road (Regina would really love it if Dr. Whale would stop prefacing every one of his reassurances with this rather troubling statement) which means that she's going to need constant observation and a steady stream of painkillers. At least until she can manage to talk or even turn her head without looking like it's killing her.

With a soft sigh, Regina gently runs the tips of her fingers across Emma's forehead; despite the copious bruising around both of her eyes, the skin above it is remarkably untouched, and it gives Regina a place to touch that doesn't make her worry that she's about to further injure her blonde lover. "I need to go out for a bit," she tells Emma. "Henry is surely awake by now, and I expect he'll have questions about what happened. I don't know how it's going to go. I know you would tell me to believe in him, and I'll try, but…none of this matters right now. All that matters is that you rest and get better so you can get up. You look…you don't look right in this bed."

Emma doesn't stir; she just keeps on sleeping and the heart monitor keeps beeping out its rhythm. It's not much but it's enough.

Still, it's the kind of comfort that Regina needs right at this moment because she's absolutely terrified to face Henry after all that has happened. He's a smart boy, and he's surely put together the pieces enough to know that Emma had been attacked because of someone that his adoptive mother had hurt. Will he be as supportive as the others or will his faith have faltered?

He's a child, she reminds herself, and if his faith has faltered, well then she thinks that she's earned that through all of the times that she gave him reason to doubt her. If that's the case, then all that's left to do is hope that she can convince him that she's still worth saving and still worth loving.

She wonders if she will ever truly stop fearing the loss of her son's love.

She runs a nail lightly over Emma's cracked lips, feeling a gentle spot of moisture on her fingertip as the sheriff exhales. For a moment, she's taken by the need to lean down and kiss Emma, but she stops herself because she'd rather just look at her lover and know that she is actually all right.

She wants to see her and see the way she's inhaling and exhaling.

The way her chest is rising and falling.

She hopes that Emma never understands such desperate needs.

She'll kill again before Henry will.

"I'll be back soon," she tells the sleeping woman. "If your parents come in, they're probably going to ask you for details. Try not to say anything that you shouldn't." She's teasing, and it's not like Emma's awake for it, anyway, but it feels like a nice and comfortable thing to do. Something she'd do if Emma were conscious enough to argue with her about it. She reminds herself once again that Emma is going to be fine, and then turns and leaves the room.

Before she does anything stupid.

Whatever that might be.

With her, it truly could be anything, and that scares even her these days.

She passes by David and Snow who are standing close together in the hallway, both of them looking sleepy but mostly rested; they'd reluctantly left her alone with Emma a few hours earlier, but even then she'd known that they hadn't gotten very far. Probably no further than Whale's office.

"Regina," Snow says, her voice soft and annoyingly kind.

"I'm going to go see Henry," the former queen cuts in, before Snow can start with pleasantries that still don't fit the relationship between them.

"He's probably halfway through breakfast," David notes. "Want company?"

Her response is immediate, if slightly startled. "No! No…stay with Emma."

"Whale suggested that she'll sleep most of today," Snow offers. "He said that she should have slept all of last night, but well, she's –"

"She's Emma and she doesn't know how to do what she should. I know," Regina sighs, her voice tinged with what sounds like a kind of frustrated affection. She forces herself to calm down, and tries to find the patience to politely decline assistance from David. "It's best – I think – if I speak to Henry alone. We're going to have to face each other eventually."

David nods, and she's intensely grateful for his lack of worthless platitudes or assurances. She thinks maybe his inability to offer even something trite and cloying should make her worry more about Henry's reaction, but for now, she appreciates David's honest response.

"Yeah. We'll be here when you get back," Snow tells her.

"Good," she nods, and she's not sure what exactly she's grateful for, but there's something warm in the middle of her chest that frightens her far more than it has any right to. That warmth shouldn't be there for these two obnoxious life-destroying idiots, and maybe it's not. Maybe all of this is just exhaustion and too much emotion, but what she does know is that she needs to get out of this hospital, and so she does, her head held up high to disguise the fact that she's running away from Snow and David and Emma.

"I don't know about this," David says for probably the twentieth time once the door has closed.

Snow shoots him a look. "You're the one who reminded me that it's Emma's life, and not ours. And how precious love is."

"I know," he chuckles. "And I still believe both of those things, but well, it's Regina, and sometimes I think we're just seconds away from an explosion."

"We are, but I think if we try to get between them, the explosion won't come from Regina, but from Emma," Snow tells him. "And I won't lose our daughter over this. I don't want to lose her to Regina, but I also don't want to lose her because of Regina so I think we need to just…"

"Hope for the best."

"And hope this works out best for both of them."

"And if it works out with them being together and actually being each other's True Love?" David prompts between sips of coffee.

"Then we're happy for them," Snow says. "Because I have to think that if they are, then they'll find a way to make each other happy. Right?"

David leans forward and kisses his wife on the forehead. "Right."

Regina finds Henry sitting down on the beach, seated on a large piece of driftwood that doesn't look nearly steady enough to support him. Her now shoeless feet sinking deep into the sand, she makes her way slowly towards him, making enough noise to warn him of her approach. "Henry," she says once she's close enough, her voice low and careful so as not to spook him.

"Hi, Mom," he replies, and immediately a strange sense of calm settles over her. He's not calling her by her given name and he's not outright rejecting her; that has to be a good sign.

"How are you this morning, sweetheart?" she asks as she kneels down in front of him; he's taller now, and this is harder, but it still means something to her because it's their thing; it's what she's always done, and will continue to do as long as she's able to.

"You can sit next to me," he offers with something of a shy smile.

"I'm not sure it can support us both," she tells him, her voice gentle.

"Oh. The wood here isn't as strong as the wood down by the beach house."

"It's plenty strong," she assures him, aware that she's having a conversation involving vague metaphors with her twelve-year-old son. "There just might be more wind over here in Storybrooke. We have to shore it up more."

"Right," he nods, looking out at the water.

"Henry –"

"If I ask for the truth – the whole truth - will you give it to me?"

"Within reason."

He looks at her, frowning. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning I will answer any question that you ask me as long as it's my story to tell."

"Really?"

"After everything that we've been through together, I owe you honesty."

He swallows, searching her face for deception, and finding only sadness and resignation. She's expecting rejection, he realizes.

"Mom, we're not going anywhere," he tells her.

"I…"

"Emma's okay, right? That's what dad said. That's what Ruby told me."

Regina takes a breath and then offers a thin smile. "Oh, she's fine, Henry," she tells her son. "She was hurt badly, but she's strong and brave, and she doesn't know how to quit when she should so yes, she's going to be okay."

"Then what are you scared about?"

"Who said I was?"

"You promised me the truth."

"I did. Ask me a question."

"I just did."

"How about we come back to that one later. Ask me a different question."

He nods his head. "Tell me what happened yesterday?"

She smiles slightly, this one even thinner than the last one; she should have expected Henry to get right down to the bare bones of it all. "Many years ago, when Storybrooke first appeared on the map, I encountered Owen – the man most of this town has known as Greg Mendell – and I ruined his life out of selfishness, anger and hatred. My actions turned him into me."

Henry tilts his head. "What did you do?"

"Are you sure you want to know?"

He nods his head slowly, but his wary green eyes tell a different story. He wants to know because he thinks he needs to, but he's scared of what he's about to hear; worried that she'll say the one thing that he can't handle.

Still, she had promised her son the truth, and this is her tale to tell now. It occurs to her that she's now the only one left alive who knows it completely now that Owen's memories have been destroyed thanks to Gold's magic.

"I killed his father," she says finally, closing her eyes for a long moment. She can feel the buzzing of a migraine somewhere in the back of her skull, and she knows that even if this conversation goes well, she'll be paying for the stress of the last two days one way or another within the next few hours.

"Why?"

She opens her eyes and looks directly at him. "I could offer you a lot of explanations to try to justify my actions, but the truth is, Henry, I killed Kurt Flynn because he defied me, and because his son left me alone again. I killed him because I was lonely and I was angry, and because I could."

"Oh. Okay," he says softly, frowning as he turns the words over.

She shakes her head. "There's no 'oh, okay' here. What I did was hideously wrong. I never once considered what leaving Owen without a father would do to him because I'd spent most of my own life wishing for my parents to just go away. I loved my mother and father desperately, but as much as I wanted them to love me, I wanted them to leave me to my life even more."

"So what happened to Owen after he left Storybrooke?"

"I don't know, but I don't imagine it was good. Whatever it was wasn't happy, and it didn't heal the wound inside of his heart that I'd created. He's spent the last three decades looking for me. Wanting to make me pay."

"Like you did with Grandma."

"Exactly like that. And just like me, once Owen found a way back into Storybrooke, he took out his vengeance on the wrong person."

"Emma."

"Yes," she replies sadly, reaching out to pick up a broken twig. She winces slightly as she does so, her sore arm reminding her that yeah, it's still there.

"Where is he now? Did you –"

"No. Your father and your grandmother and your grandfather –" she laughs loudly – absurdly - at this because honestly, the family relations in this town have to be incestuous in some way or another. "We all figured out a way to get Owen out of Storybrooke without him getting hurt. He won't be back, but he also won't be plagued with the past that I built within him."

"Magic?" Henry asks, wrinkling his nose.

"Yes. And yes, I used magic yesterday."

"Did it feel weird after not using it for eight months?"

"I wish it did, but it didn't. It felt familiar, and even a little bit good."

"That's bad, right."

"Yes."

He nods his head. "So now what?"

"I don't know. How about we start with what you're thinking right now."

"I'm thinking that I'm glad that this is us now."

"Explain," she says. To anyone else, it would have been a sharply delivered order, but to her son, it's a gentled request for more information.

"We tell each other the truth even it hurts. Even if it's scary. I like that."

"You do?"

"Yeah. We can face anything that way, right? When we were at the beach house, everyone was honest and no one was lying. We were good there."

"We're good here," she tells him. "It's just…it's just harder."

"That's what my dad said, too."

"Well, occasionally your idiot father has an intelligent thought."

"He also said you two are getting along," Henry chuckles.

She scowls at that.

He smiles for a moment, and then grows serious again. "It's harder out here in the real world because you have to face more of your past, isn't it?"

"Yes. At the beach house, it was just the three of us, and the hardest thing there was finding a way to trust each other. Here, we – I – have to deal with the things I've done, and I'm not sure that the two of you should have to."

"What if we want to?"

"You make it sound so simple."

"Because it is simple. You're not who you were, Mom."

"I wish it were that easy, my little prince."

"Is it worth having if it's easy?"

She laughs at this bit of youthful innocence. "I don't know, but I wouldn't mind a few things not being hard every now and again."

"Then don't make them hard."

"What?"

"Emma and I want to be with you. We want to be a family."

"And I'm trying to – for once – do what's best for my family."

"And what is that?"

She simply shakes her head.

"It's okay if you don't know," he tells her. "Because I do. What' best for all of us, Mom, is to be happy. That's what best for you, too."

"Oh, Henry, I want that more than you could ever imagine," she admits with a resigned sigh and another wince as the migraine pushes forward. "I'm just not always sure how to achieve happiness or how to keep it once I have it."

He nods his head. Then, with a small smile, "Do you love her?"

"Emma?"

"Yeah."

"Yes," she replies softly. "I'm not sure when it occurred, but somewhere along the way, Emma became…special to me. She became important."

"Because you love her. You know you can actually say the words, right?"

She chuckles. "I have said it too many times over the last few hours."

"Then why can't you say it to me? Why can't you admit it to me?"

"Because you're my son, and talking to you about love and other emotions like it is…strange. Especially when those emotions involve Emma. I wasn't brought up to be so open with my feelings. Especially not…weak ones."

"Love isn't weak."

"That's taking me time, too," she tells him.

"You know I'm okay with you and Emma, right? I've been okay with you being together since we got home. I still am. Even if it is love."

"Why? You were the one person I was so sure would never be okay with it."

"Because it makes you happy," he shrugs. "And you're my mom, and that's all I've ever wanted. You to be happy. She makes you it."

"How is it that you're so very sure of that?"

"I'm the one who believes," Henry reminds her with an impish grin that reminds her of Emma. "That's my job in this family."

"Yes, you are," she says. She stands up, and points to his side. "May I sit?"

He nods. The driftwood really can't support the both of them, but he's relieved when it somehow does. It creaks and groans when she settles herself upon it, but doesn't give.

"I'm going to stop letting you down," she says, her arm slipping around him. "I'm going to do everything I can to stop being her."

"I know you'll try, but it's not easy, right?"

"No," she admits. "It's not, and it probably never will be." She looks down at her hands, flexing her fingers and feeling the magic buzz within them.

"So that means that sometimes you'll be successful and sometimes you won't be, but as long as you're trying, that's enough, isn't it?"

"You tell me. Is that enough for you?"

He thinks for a moment. "It is. Because I just need you to be my mom," he replies. "That's enough for me, and I think that's enough for Emma, too."

"I hope you're right, dear."

"When am I ever wrong?" he asks, sounding exasperated at the question.

She laughs, and wonders how she ever allowed herself to drift away from this boy; he has always been her heart, and without him, she truly is lost. A long time ago, she had believed Daniel to be the person that she could never find a way to live without, and that belief had destroyed all that was good and kind within a sweet young girl's broken heart. Now, she's been given a second chance and though the risks are so very high, she finds herself unable to stop herself from taking the leap of faith, anyway.

So she gently nudges his shoulder and he gently nudges hers back, and this kind of thing is more his and Emma's thing than hers with him, but he's smiling because she is and somehow, that means everything to her.

Emma sleeps through the entire day, which Whale is relieved about; he tells them that Emma's habit of trying to fight everything had worried him because the sheriff had been struggling with even the painkillers just on instinct alone, and that had stopped her from being able to properly rest as she so desperately needs to do.

"She'll be here in the morning," Whale tells them, standing completely in front of the doorway into Emma's private room. "I promise."

"So you're no longer worried about complications?" Regina prompts.

"There's always a concern of things like unexpected blood clots, and Sheriff Swan is going to be under observation for a good long while," he answers. "But everything looks really good, and I think we're where we should be."

"I have no idea what any of that meant," Regina snaps. She can feel David and Snow and Henry standing just behind her.

"It means she'll be here in the morning, Regina. You all look exhausted, and the last thing Emma needs is to feel like she has to be strong for you. She has a long road of recovery ahead of her, and she's going to need support from all of you, but if she feels like you need her more, well then I think we all know what she'll do," Whale says, his voice low and oddly soothing.

Not that Regina is at all soothed by him.

She's irritated.

Because he's right.

So she takes a deep breath. "Fine."

His eyebrow lifts, and then he nods his head like of course she answered that way. He looks to the others in the room, collects their agreement and then smiles in a way that makes Regina's skin crawl. "Excellent. Then I will see each of you in the morning. I can't promise that Emma will be awake, but at least everyone will have had a chance for a good night's sleep."

"You're a moron," Regina snaps, and then turns and practically stomps out.

"She means thank you," Henry offers with a sheepish knowing grin.

"I'm well aware of what she meant," Whale assures him. He then steps out of the room, and shuts the door behind him.

"We'll see you in the morning," David tells him.

"Yes, I'm sure you will," Whale states, meeting David's eyes coolly.

Snow turns to the others. "How about we go find us some food? I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starved."

It's almost eleven at night when Regina sneaks back to the hospital, and she's only moderately surprised to find Neal waiting for her. He's slouched in the chair beside Emma's bed, one of his booted feet atop the blankets.

"Hey," he says with a smile, and a glance down at his watch. "I expected you here hours ago."

Far from amused, she snaps back with, "What the hell are you doing in her room?"

"I figured you'd ask me how I knew you'd be here."

She just stares at him.

"Right. Well the answer is because we share something in common."

"Do we?"

"I know you hate it, but I am always going to love her, Regina. I've made my peace with that she loves you now, and I'm okay with that. But you know what? That's not why I'm here. I mean, I am here because I wanted to see with my own eyes that she is okay and that she's sleeping all right, but I was waiting for you because I thought maybe we should finally have that talk."

"What talk?" she asks with a lifted eyebrow. "And how exactly did you get in here? Did Victor let you?"

"No. I snuck in," Neal answers with a grin. "I'm a thief. Or at least I used to be one. Anyway, how did you get in? Magic?"

"I needed to see her," Regina admits, clearly displeased by this turn of events. Her plan had been to sneak in quickly, say a private goodnight to her sleeping lover and then pop out without anyone knowing she'd been by.

She hadn't expected to see Emma's ex-boyfriend waiting for her.

"So magic," he concludes.

"Yes, magic. Which I will…I will try to stop using in the morning."

"It doesn't work like that and we both know it."

"What exactly is it that you want, Mr. Cassidy?"

He holds up his hands. "Hey, easy. I want the same thing that you do."

"I doubt that."

"Funny because I'm pretty sure of it. We both want Emma and Henry to be safe and happy, and we both want our pasts to stay in the past where they can't hurt anyone." He stands up as he says this, and offers her the chair.

She doesn't even look at it.

"What's your point?" she demands.

"My point is that it doesn't work that way, and we both know it. The past doesn't ever stay where it should no matter how much we might want it to."

"I don't need you to tell me that."

"Maybe you do, maybe you don't. What you do need to do is be honest with Emma. I wasn't. I was a coward like my father and instead of fighting for her and me, I took the easy way out and gave her up and then tried to convince myself that I did it because of destiny. I lost her because I couldn't just man up and tell her that I was terrified of seeing my father again. I lost her because I couldn't find it within me to tell her all of my truths. "

"She knows quite a bit already."

"But not everything. Well, whatever other nasty ass skeletons that you have hiding away in your closet, she needs to know them, too."

"Why is it so important to you that I let her know everything? Are you hoping that all of my secrets together will be too much for her?"

He offers up a somewhat sad smile. "Believe it or not, Regina, I'm actually hoping that her knowing the whole truth about your past will cement the two of you. What happened yesterday, it's going to stick in her mind, and she's going to wonder if there are other ghosts out there that you haven't yet told her about. If you let it, this will come between you two."

"Fine," she agrees. "Was that the talk or did you want to issue an idiotic threat about how if I hurt her or let her get hurt again, you'll –"

"You have magic, Regina," Neal chuckles. "What could I really do to you?"

"Nothing," she says. Then, looking over at Emma, she frowns and blinks away a few drops of moisture that have gathered on her eyelashes.

"Not like I'd need to, anyway," he notes, following her gaze over towards his sleeping ex. Every now and again Emma stirs, but she's quiet enough.

"No," she sighs. "How long will you be staying in town?"

"Just a few more days. I managed to find out where Mendell – Owen – actually has a place, and before he gets released from the hospital, I want to head over there and try to clean out any other signs of his obsession. If he's been watching you like this for months, then it stands to reason that –"

"That he's been thinking about me non stop for three decades."

"Yeah."

"I believe that David was planning on doing the same thing at his room here in town tomorrow morning; I should probably join him." She grunts then, as if realizing that she should probably say something else. "In case I had forgotten to mention it before, I appreciate your assistance with all of this. You have been….well, you've surprisingly been nothing but a gentleman."

His eyes twinkle almost mischievously, and he opens his mouth like he's about to say something sentimental, and even cloying, but then he thinks better of it, and says instead, "I hope by now that you've figured out that I'm no threat to you. Or to you and Emma. I promise you that."

"Most of me even believes you," Regina admits with an annoyed sounding sigh. "But it's going to be awhile before all of me does."

He shrugs. "Okay. I'm going to get out of here now. Goodnight, Regina."

"Goodnight Mr –"

"Try Neal," he suggests. "We're not friends, but we're not enemies, and we both love the same people. So I think that makes us…allies. In this at least."

"Allies," she repeats. "Very well. Goodnight, Neal."

He chuckles, and then slides out through the door, into the dark hallway.

Leaving her all alone with Emma.

"Hello, dear," she says as she sits down in the chair Neal had been in. "It's been something of a long day, and no, I'm not going to tell you everything while you're sound asleep because you'd probably wake up just to spite me and tell me that I'm cheating, and well tomorrow I'm turning the magic back off but tonight I'm still using it, and I'd really prefer to not to fry you."

She takes a deep breath and laughs.

"So I'm not going to tell you any of my rather horrible stories tonight. I just think…I think I want to sit here with you for a few minutes and…I just want to enjoy the quiet. Can we...do you think that maybe we can do that?"

She doesn't receive an answer from her slumbering lover, but she hadn't been expecting one, either. She knows that she can't stay here for long because Whale will check in, and she doesn't really want a fight with him (for once) but she only needs a few minutes, anyway.

Just enough time to reassure herself that she hasn't lost everything all over again.

David is already at the room that Owen had been staying in at Granny's when Regina arrives the next day to help him clean it out. He's slowly making his way through things, taking everything down from the walls. She watches for a long moment from the doorway as he painstakingly avoids the photos that show her and Emma in graphically compromising positions.

"I'm sorry that you had to find out this way," she says as she enters, her eyes flickering around the room, and taking in all of the mental chaos. That Owen had been disturbed is beyond dispute at this point, and try as she might, she finds herself struggling to keep the weight of this from toppling her. It was her fault what had happened to him. It always will be her fault.

He looks up and over at her, and offers what's meant to be a smile, but comes off more like tired resignation. "Are you? Really?"

"Surprisingly, yes. A few months ago, when we were still at the beach house, I told Emma that I actually looked forward to Snow learning because I knew that it would spin her head, and she'd be outraged by the end of the two of us together."

"Did you get the reaction that you were hoping for, Regina?"

The former queen doesn't answer at first, just steps deeper into the room, and approaches his side. She reaches up for a photo that shows her and Emma curled together on the couch downstairs, the scratchy brown blanket that she'd stolen from the beach house the only thing hiding them up from prying eyes.

"No," she finally admits. "I thought that part of me would find pleasure in Snow realizing that she'd lost her daughter to me, but I don't." She laughs humorlessly. "I don't want Emma losing anything or anyone. I don't want her to have to choose no matter how much I want her to choose me."

She runs her thumb over the picture, her mind jumping back to a morning spent on the couch of the beach house, curled up just like this. Listening to the rain and thinking about how she could stay forever in this position.

But nothing stays the same; everything has to change eventually.

Especially when the real world is involved.

"She promised me that she wouldn't be the one to hurt me. She was right."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

Her entire body tenses up for a moment, and so many things – so many defensive urges – rush to the surface. She almost reminds him of his place, almost tells him that it's none of his business, but he's looking at her with honest eyes, and he's not judging her anymore than any other father would.

"I'm trying," she says simply. "To be worthy of her." It's a staggering confession for her; an admission of vulnerability and lack of self-esteem.

It makes him want to shake her.

Instead, unable to hide his frustration, he shakes his head, his eyes shining with something that looks sad in a way that should irritate her, but doesn't because for once, they're free of the kind of righteous judgment that always used to burn at her skin. "Love isn't about being worthy, Regina."

"Isn't it?" I'm the Evil Queen and she's the Savior. She may not believe in titles like those, but we do. We grew up with them, David. Heroes and Villains. Very little in-between, and the stories are never kind to Villains."

"That was there."

"There is a place that you very much want to return to."

He smiles slightly, wistfully. "I won't lie to you: sometimes I miss the simplicity of good and bad that we had over there. Doesn't mean I'm not aware of how unfair it was or even how much of an illusion it always was."

She blinks, shocked by his words; she'd always taken him for the flag bearer of the concept of Good and Evil being proven absolutes. It would seem, though, that the surprises of the last few days aren't ready to stop just yet.

Look," he continues after a moment, "You and I may never have been really close, Regina, and I don't know you the way that Emma or Snow do, but I do know that being worthy of being loved has never been your problem. You've always been worthy; everyone is. You've just never allowed yourself to believe that, and you've never allowed yourself to just be happy."

She stares at him for a moment, wanting to argue with him. Needing to.

But she can't because he's right.

Love is weakness, Regina.

It is. It always has been.

And I still love you. Get used to hearing it, Your Majesty.

She wants to. She needs to.

"I'm trying," Regina says again, reaching up to take another picture down. It shows her and Emma against the wall, and there's entirely too much skin showing for it to be comfortable for either David or herself to be seeing.

But he's not looking at that picture, anyway. Instead, his blue eyes are on the color photograph of Regina and Emma curled up together on the couch.

Looking like any other normal happy couple.

After a moment, he simply smiles, and reaches for another picture.

They develop a rhythm that helps them deal with Emma's many long weeks in the hospital about three days after the brutal attack in the alley; Henry arrives in her room right after school with a bag full of books and homework, and he drops himself into the seat next to Emma's bed. If Emma is awake, sitting up in bed and aware – and during the first few days, she seldom is – he quickly tells her about his day at school (thanks especially to her many broken ribs and the painkillers, she's never conscious for long and so he learns to speak rapidly so that neither of them feels as though they missed anything important). If she's sleeping, he starts on his homework, and he keeps at it until someone arrives with dinner.

Most of the time, it's one of his grandparents that shows up to sit with him beside Emma because Regina typically works until almost seven at night. It's sometime after that when Regina typically arrives. She always offers whomever it was that had picked up dinner – including usually a salad or a sandwich for her – a polite thank you, and then she sits down next to Henry and checks over his homework for him. He hardly needs it anymore – doesn't actually need it at all – but he doesn't dare stop her from doing it.

Because it helps her keep her from worrying about Emma.

Once his homework is checked, and it's just the two of them, she usually starts on paperwork of her own, all the while listening to Henry prattle on about this boy or this girl at school. She hears everything that he says, but still manages to get budgets and requisitions completed in triplicate.

He wonders how he'd never noticed how good she was at her job. He supposes that when she'd just been the Evil Queen, it hadn't been so important to think about the things that she'd done that had been normal.

He regrets those days even as he realizes that without them, they wouldn't be here now. On the cusp of being a complete if unusual family.

Sometimes, Emma surprises them by waking up and jumping into the middle of a conversation and that's when things get a little weird.

Because none of them are handling wounded Emma in a bed well at all.

Especially not Regina.

Oh, she gives it her best go. She fusses and she forces herself to be patient and calm, and not to show all of the ugly emotions that are swimming around. She tries not to let Emma see how much all of this is affecting her.

But then Whale kicks them out for the night, and Henry goes back the mansion with his mother, and he sees the way she squints in pain as they walk through the brightly lit foyer. It's the one lie that she still tells him – that she's all right, and that she's handling Emma's absence well. He knows better, but he also knows that she's trying to be strong for everyone.

So he gives her a hug, tells her he loves her and then heads up to his bed.

And he tries not to wonder if she's crying.

The hardest part for her is the coming home at night to an empty bedroom; sure, she and Emma hadn't been officially living together, but the sheriff had been spending the night over maybe five days out of every seven, and she'd made an effort to at least drop by for the other two. Now, it's been over a month since she's been at the house, and her scents are fading away.

Regina has to forcibly remind herself that Emma's recovery is going just fine, and as long as she continues to make progress (and perhaps stop being so stubborn with the physical therapy) she's likely to be released from the hospital before too much longer. That doesn't mean she'll come back here because she technically has her own apartment, but she'll be closer at least.

Still, it's hard to focus on such things when she's at her lowest because the sheets have been washed a dozen times over by now, and even the most stubborn of scents – the one that clung to the pillows – is finally gone.

It's maddening to Regina that she realizes this, and even more maddening that she's sentimental enough to miss something so…insignificant.

Because Emma is only five miles across town, sound asleep in a hospital bed.

She'll be home soon.

Then, they can talk.

She finds that she actually misses their story-time. Over the last few weeks, they've been afforded precious little one on time, and what they have been able to sneak in has been largely spent trying to make each other laugh.

Nothing deeper or more important than that.

It hasn't seemed the time or place for such.

Even Regina knows that she's stalling.

But then, Emma hasn't seemed to be too eager to open that box, either.

That's what the most concerning part to Regina. Normally, Emma is the one who pushes for honesty and truth; she'd been the one who pushed during every part of the therapy at the beach house, and she's always been the one who refuses to turn away from the darker areas in their relationship.

Now, she's acting like everything is good and fine between them.

It's a nice and kind lie, but it still is a lie.

Regina curls herself up under the mattress – realizing how big the bed is when there's only one person in it – and pulls the blankets up over her. She won't sleep well tonight, she knows, because her mind will be in motion.

Thinking about all of the things she needs to confess to.

Thinking about all of the things she needs to find an explanation for.

How like a Charming it is for David to believe that everyone is worthy of love; how could someone whose hands are as stained with reds as hers are ever be worthy of such? How can she ever earn the right to be loved again?

Is it selfish to even consider trying to fight for a relationship with Emma? Is it wrong? How is someone who has lived their whole life despising the concepts of right and wrong supposed to truly know what is and what isn't?

She turns in the bed, reaches for the space beside her, and when she feels nothing there but the coolness of her sheets, she wonders when it was she'd lost the ability to be alone and to be accustomed to the quiet of solitude.

It's loud, she thinks, this terrible quiet.

And she wants it to stop.

She just wants it to stop.

For the first several weeks after an extremely petulant and disinterested in rehab Emma is finally allowed to be up and out of the bed (though she's still forced to remain in the hospital), Regina stays completely out of the physical therapy situation; she instead lets Snow and David and Ruby and Whale help the sheriff through the paces, and it goes about as well as could be expected.

Which is to say that there's entirely too much coddling going on, and for the first time in her life, Emma is lapping it up with a spoon, allowing everyone to let her rest when she knows she could keep pushing and probably should.

When concerns are expressed, Whale simply sighs dramatically, and states that this kind of less than enthusiastic response to the physical therapy is fairly typical of someone who went through what she did. Emma's likely quite depressed, he supposes, and they should all just try to be patient with because Emma being is who she is, she'll certainly come around in time.

That's when Regina decides to step in and do something because the Emma Swan she knows isn't the kind to sit on her ass and wait.

And she's sure not going to get any better like this.

"You have two choices," Regina says when she enters Emma's room at a quarter after one on a Tuesday morning. She finds Emma resting on the bed, blankets over her legs, and a colorful magazine in her hands.

"Hi to you, too," Emma says with a sleepy smile. "You're early."

"Would you like to know your choices?"

"Depends. We talking about food? Because a cheeseburger sounds good."

"No, dear, we're talking about you. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself, and get out of this bed. It's time to get back up."

"In case you haven't noticed, I have been trying to do exactly that."

"No, actually you've mostly been complaining about trying."

Emma's eyes narrow, and the magazine drops from her hand. "You get almost every bone in you broken, and tell me how easy it is."

"I have never claimed that it was easy. Or that it would be."

"Because you don't know. You have no idea what it's like to feel like someone basically turned your insides into broken shards of glass."

"I'm sorry that you do."

"You should be."

The expression on Emma's face would almost be comical if it wasn't so horrified; the moment the words leave her lips, she clearly wishes that she could pull them back, and she opens her mouth to try to, but Regina waves her attempt at an apology way. "Don't," she says softly. "I understand."

" I shouldn't have –"

"But you needed to," Regina tells her. "And you should have said it a long time ago. Believe it or not, it is all right to be angry with me."

"No, it's not. I don't want to be."

"But you shouldn't stop yourself from being it. You've been the hero for so long, always holding everyone up. Always holding me up. That's not fair."

"It's what I'm supposed to do," the sheriff says, looking down at her blankets. Her wounded leg has been improving steadily, but it still hurts badly to put any weight on it, and even considering running makes her ache.

"We don't work like that," Regina says simply. "We can't. Now, back to those choices. You can either speak to me or you can speak to Archie."

"What about?"

"What you're afraid of."

"Who said I'm afraid of anything?"

"You're reading a magazine instead of demanding that someone help you get back on your feet as of yesterday. You're not a quitter, Emma, and right now you are quitting on yourself. Maybe it's because you don't want to come home because you know that means we'll have to deal with what we are now or maybe it's because you're afraid of your own mortality. Either way, it's time to face the truth and answer that question for yourself."

"Both," Emma allows, her eyes on the magazine again. "I'm afraid of both."

"Look at me."

"What?"

"The agreement we made at the beach house. You promised me that you would never look away from me. You promised me that you would keep my eyes no matter what else happened. I expect you to keep that promise."

Emma's eyes lift, and they're full of tears. "I'm sorry," she says.

"You have nothing to apologize for, and I can't apologize enough."

Emma's head falls back against the pillow. "I don't know what to do here. I don't know how to make this right for me. Or for us. And I want to."

"You need to stop worrying about us for the time being, dear. We don't matter as much as you do." She steps closer to Emma and reaches out for her, a soft warm palm sliding across the sheriff's cool cheek. "As for how to make it right for you, that involves you doing what you do best, Emma."

"Which is what?"

"Fight. Every moment of every day that I've known you, you've fought."

"I'm tired."

"I know. So am I." She leans in and gently kisses Emma on the lips, allowing the soft embrace to linger for several long moments. When she pulls back, she says, "I'm going to call Dr. Hopper. I think it'll be good for you to speak to someone who is good at listening. If he can help me, he can help you."

"Shouldn't we do this? You and me?"

"That you have to ask that question tells me that maybe we shouldn't."

"Regina, please, don't do this. You need me."

"I do, but…I'm okay. I miss you, Emma. I miss you being around the house, I miss you annoying me while I'm trying to get paperwork done, and I miss you leaving your clothes all over the place. I even miss the obnoxious water rings your beer bottles make on the table. What I miss the most, though, is seeing that confidence in your eyes. I miss the things that I always used to hate about you. We all change, my love, and what Owen did to you has changed both of us, but it shouldn't take away everything that you are."

"Are you breaking up with me?" Emma asks, her voice terribly quiet and pained and young. For the moment, she's not the Savior, but simply a young frightened girl who has been through so very much, and wants so very little.

"No, but I am giving you a way out of this relationship if you want it."

"I don't want it. I don't…I don't want to talk to Archie or anyone else about what happened to me, Regina. I want to talk to you," Emma pleads.

"Are you sure about that? Because I will push you."

"I don't understand."

"If you insist on us doing this together, without Archie, I want you to know that I will push you as hard as I can. Both to get up and to open up."

"You of all people is going to push me to spill my guts?"

"I owe you that much. You wouldn't stop pushing me, and as much as I hated you most of the time we were there, I also fell in love with you."

"That makes it sound so twisted."

"We're not exactly normal."

"But are we healthy?"

Regina shrugs her shoulders. "Being with you is good for me. Whether or not it's good for you is a question that you have to answer for yourself."

"We were doing well," Emma insists, wincing a bit as she adjusts.

"We were, but I'm not sure we were as honest as we need to be."

"Please don't leave me."

"Emma –"

"You think that's what I want? You think I want another person I love to just walk away from me for my own good? You think I want someone deciding what's best for me? I don't. I want you. I want us. And yeah, maybe it hurts right now, and maybe I don't trust you as much as I did, but I want to. You want me to fight? Fine. I'll fight, but I don't want to do it alone again."

Tears are flowing down her cheeks now, and she looks so young and hurt, and it's more than enough to make Regina's heart feel like it's exploding.

"Everyone leaves me, Regina. Eventually everyone does. Please. Don't."

"I'm trying to do what's…I'm trying not to be selfish here," Regina attempts to explain, her own eyes filling with tears. She imagines that part of Emma's emotional rawness is due to exhaustion, lack of sleep and the painkillers she's still taking, but the other part is clearly all about the issues that she's spent so very much of her life burying away. Sure, she'd dealt with much of her insecurities while they'd been at the beach house, but this is different.

This is all about feeling like she's never had control of her own life. Her parents had sent her through a tree so that she could survive and return to save everyone, and then Neal had walked away from her so that she could fulfill a destiny that he himself had never really wanted to be any part of.

"Everyone is always trying to figure out what I'm meant to do, and no one ever cares what I want to do," Emma continues, tears on her shirt now.

"Tell me," Regina prompts. "Tell me what you want, Emma."

"I want someone to be selfish about me for once," Emma admits quietly. "It'd be a nice change for someone to not want to let go of me because it's for the best. It would be nice for someone to want to fight to keep me."

Regina lets out a caught breath, amazed how badly she'd misread the situation; she'd spent most of the night up trying to find a way to exit the romantic relationship with Emma, but somehow keep the friendship. She had figured that would be the best way to allow them both to move on.

She had figured that despite Emma's insistence that they could make it through this, the sheriff would have been grateful for the easy escape.

Especially considering the anger that she's still holding within her.

She'd never expected Emma to want differently even while dealing with feelings of blame and hurt and fear over what had occurred to her.

There's a strange warmth in the middle of her chest as she glances down at Emma, realizing once again just how very much like one another they are.

"Be sure about what you're asking for here, Emma," Regina presses. "Because if I don't let go of you now, I'm never going to let go."

"Then don't."

Regina nods slowly. "Fine, but I think we both still should talk to Archie."

"I'll talk to Archie if you'll talk Whale into letting me go home."

Regina's eyebrow lifts. "You think you're ready?"

"I need to wake up to pancakes," Emma replies. "Not heart monitors."

"Very well. I will talk to him, but no promises."

"I know." Emma tells her. "And I am sorry."

"For what?"

"For feeling the way I do towards you when it hurts the most."

Regina smiles sadly, and then lightly runs a nail over Emma's cheek, glad that the bruises are gone, "That's why I love you as much as you love me."

"Because I can be irrational?"

"Because you're real to me. I've never wanted you to be my savior, dear. That you have been has been an interesting twist, but I just wanted a partner."

"Well, I'm here. Just promise me you won't lose faith in me," Emma says, and it's a reminder of the conversation that they'd had on the porch of the mansion weeks earlier. Just about an hour before Owen had attacked her.

Regina takes her hand and brings it to her lips. "Don't give up on me."

Emma reaches up, cups the back of her neck, pulls her down for a kiss and holds it there, allowing her tears to slide across Regina's cheeks.

"I won't if you won't," she says.

"You have yourself a deal, Sheriff," Regina answers breathily. Once she collects herself, she adds, "Now how about you close your eyes and rest; I'll speak to Victor and see if I can't get you home in time for dinner tonight."

Victor argues and complains, but in the end he surrenders to the might of the Queen. It doesn't hurt that David and Snow both support her request as well, both of them realizing that Emma needs to be home in order to heal.

There's very little discussion about where she'll go after being released; the loft has always been too small for three people, and though Emma's own apartment enough is comfortable for someone with normal needs, it would be painfully cramped for someone with limitations thanks to her recovery.

It's decided, then, that she'll move in with Regina for the time being.

She's been pretty much living there, anyway, Henry helpfully offers up. He then ignores the surprised and slightly uncomfortable looks from the adults.

The next question is where Emma will sleep.

That, too, is decided quickly enough.

"Where we always sleep," Emma says tiredly. "I just want to crash out."

She gets kissed goodnight by her mother, her father and her son, and then she lets her lover lead her up to their bed, and bring her down next to her.

"I missed these sheets," she mumbles.

"And my pillows, too," Regina notes as she pulls the blankets up over them, and then brings Emma to her, holding her as gently as she possibly can.

"Yeah. I love your pillows."

It's the last thing Emma says until she wakes up screaming three hours later.

They're in the bathroom together – under the lukewarm water of the shower – and Emma is crying and trembling in her arms. She'd woken up five minutes earlier screaming thanks to a nightmare about Owen and the alley, and then before a sleepy Regina could say anything to calm her down, she'd jumped up and even on a bad leg, rushed into the bathroom.

Perhaps she'd been trying to use the water to muffle her sobs.

It hadn't worked, though, because Regina had immediately followed her into the bathroom, and then into the shower, and now here they are.

Regina wants to apologize and keep apologizing until her throat is raw and her lips are parched, but the words are useless, and they're not what Emma needs from her right now. What Emma needs is her strength, and she needs to hear that everything will be okay. She needs to know that it will be.

She holds her lover close and whispers into her ear sweet gentle words that should mean nothing to a woman who has lived the life that Emma has.

But apparently they mean everything; she feels Emma relax against her.

So she ups the ante and pulls Emma even closer and and kisses her cheeks and her jaw and her neck. She allows herself to linger over Emma's pulse point, feeling the way is vibrates beneath her lips. She says those three little words over and over, and they feel like blood rushing out of her – so bright and vibrant and necessary, and she couldn't stop saying them if she tried to.

The water is getting cold, and Emma is shivering, but she doesn't pull away.

She's going to hurt in the morning, but that doesn't stop her from taking Regina's hand and guiding it across her body so very gently, like she needs the contact and the feel of being touched almost more than she needs air.

Her eyes flicker closed, and she whimpers out her pleasure as her legs spread and her body responds. As stars burst behind her eyes, she allows herself to feel something besides pain and fear for the first time in weeks.

When it's over, and Regina is still holding her against the hard far wall of the shower, the water is nearly freezing, and now they've both shivering, but Emma is smiling because that's one way to chase away a terrible nightmare.

"Can you stand?" Regina asks her as she turns off the cold water.

"Here is good," Emma protests, slumped against Regina's lap. The former queen is still wearing her pajamas, though they're soaked through now.

"We are not sleeping here," Regina replies.

"Not sure we have a choice; I can't stand."

"Try. It's only a few feet to the bed," Regina chuckles as she slowly extracts herself, and pushes herself up to her feet, a hand stretched out for Emma.

"Is this a test?" Emma asks lazily, her eyes lidded. She thinks that the idea of trying to get her legs to work after what had just happened is absurd, but she also knows deep down that in a moment or two, she'll be trying anyway.

Because apparently Regina has a way of making her find her fight.

"No, dear; I'd just prefer Henry not find us here in the morning. He may understand that we're intimate, but I'm not sure even Archie could handle the fallout from him finding us sprawled out naked in the shower."

Emma snorts at the visual. "Yeah, probably not. Okay. I can do this."

Regina nods, and then just waits, her hand still out. When Emma finally takes it, it's not easy to pull her up, but then she's up and they're both just looking at each other like they think this moment means something big.

Like it means they've taken a first step forward.

Then Regina chuckles and says, "You do like your showers."

Emma laughs because everything hurts and nothing does. So she leans in and wraps her arms around Regina, and presses her lips to her forehead.

And thinks that there really is no place like home.

He watches them for several minutes, frowning slightly as he looks from woman to woman. Neither one of them is speaking, but it's not because they're fighting so much as that both of them have convinced themselves that it's not their place to tell the others' story. It isn't, of course, but since this session is about the two of them and their issues and not just individual ones, he thinks that it's probably okay for one of them to start the talking.

"He hates it when I do this," Regina finally sighs. "He always reminds me how long it's been since the last time I spoke." She looks right at him when she says this, daring him to contest her words. He just nods his head at her.

"We can wait as long as you both would like," Archie assures them.

"But we're here for a reason," Emma states.

"Exactly. So why don't we open up with something that's hopefully fairly simple to answer. Regina, any issues with your magic?"

"No," she replies. "I'm still on the wagon." Her tone indicates her distaste at viewing magic as an addiction (he's had many a conversation with her about her feelings that magic is elemental to her, and has never been the problem so much as how she uses it, and though he's inclined to believe she's right about that, the fact that she's so rarely used magic in a good way has led them both to the decision to completely abstain).

"Good. And how are you, Emma? How are you feeling these days?"

"Better," she allows, glancing over at Regina and giving her an oddly amused look that Archie can't quite figure out. "I have almost full movement and range back in my leg and wrist and my ribs. I'm even going to try working a few half shifts next week to see if I'm ready to go back full-time."

Regina purses her lips, but stays quiet.

"Regina?" Archie prompts. "Is there something that's bothering you about what Emma just said?" His voice is calm and soothing, and one of these days she's going to tell him just how much she detests this particular tone of his.

"No."

"Yes," Emma corrects. "She doesn't want me to go back just yet."

"Oh. Why not?"

"Because she's got most of her motion back, and not all of it," Regina replies, like it should be very obvious why she thinks it's a poor idea.

"For someone who wanted me back up on my feet, she's suddenly gotten very nervous about anytime I show any kind of pain," Emma comments.

"Those two things aren't the same at all," Regina scolds. "I wanted you to stop feeling sorry for yourself, which isn't at all similar to wanting you to not return to work before your body is ready for you to do so. What will happen if you end up having to chase someone down, and your leg gives out?"

"The worst crime we've seen in this town since my attack was kitty on kitty violence, and everyone is pretty sure the catnip was responsible for it."

Regina just glares at her, which earns her a cheeky grin in response.

"You're not upset," Archie observes of Regina. "Just annoyed with her."

"Which is typical. Her over-protective streak is actually kind of –"

"Shut up," Regina grumbles.

"I see," Archie notes, and then scribbles something down on his obnoxiously omnipresent pad of paper. "So you're doing better, but how are you two?"

There's a long moment of silence, and then Regina says in a low voice that's both cool and yet somehow unsteady, "I showed her my journal."

"Your journal from?"

"When I was the Queen. I kept one consistently before the King…before I had him killed. After that, it was more infrequent, but I still utilized it."

"I see. How detailed is it?"

"Enough where if we were back in the Enchanted Forest and there was a war tribunal being held, they could convict me with it and it alone."

"It was pretty bad," Emma admits. Her hands come together in front of her for a moment, and then she glances over at Regina – dressed perfectly as always - and notices the way that her own hands are twisting around in a clear display of open anxiety. Without even thinking about it, she reaches out and takes one of Regina's hands, squeezing it tightly within her own.

Such contact probably isn't proper in a couples therapy kind of setting, but Emma's never been one to much care about what is and isn't proper; she just wants to offer the same reassurances to Regina that the former queen has been offering to her over the last few difficult months: it will be okay.

Everything will be okay.

"Does it help to know everything she's done?" Archie asks.

"I don't know if help is the right word," Emma replies. "And I'm not sure if I will ever really know everything, but I think…I think we're good at telling each other stories. It's kind of what we do. She tells me one of hers, and I tell her one of mine, and we both remember what matters and doesn't."

"Would you agree?" he asks of Regina.

"We have our disagreements about what matters and doesn't," Regina corrects, "But yes, I think we're getting better as we go along."

He nods his head slowly. "Good. Now what about the headaches?"

He doesn't miss the concerned look that Emma throws towards the former queen. It's enough to tell him that this is a frequent conversation of theirs.

"They're controlled," Regina states. "Days like today will be harder."

"Because of the stress?"

She looks right at him, and he knows that thanks to her past and the many demons that exist within it, no matter how much progress he makes with her and no matter how much she might learn to trust him, there will always be times when she can't allow herself to show weakness in front of others.

"Do you at least let each other know when you're hurting?" he asks.

"We try to," Emma replies. "Some habits die hard."

"Of course. So, if I might ask, where is your relationship these days?"

The women exchange a look, and then Regina sighs. "She moved in."

"That's a bad thing?"

"Of course not."

"It's a bad thing that I know?"

Emma chuckles.

"It's a bad thing –"

"Oh for God's sake, it's obviously not a bad thing, but it is a bad thing that her insipid parents seem to feel the constant need to be over now. They apparently believe that because we're no longer hiding our relationship that we should all pretend that we're some happy normal easy-going family."

"And that bothers you?"

"I don't want Snow in my house," she replies grouchily.

Emma snickers again.

"I feel like I'm missing something," Archie states.

"She's struggling with the fact that she and my mother are actually kind of getting along these days. Same with her and Neal. I think she prefers her enemies to stay her enemies, and she's actually starting to run out of them."

"Oh, please, I brought over thousands of worthless peasants who still hate me," Regina replies crankily. "Finding enemies is hardly a challenge."

"Which is why those peasants re-elected her in a landslide."

"My only competition was the disturbingly skinny little pig that Ruby forgot to eat because she was too full at the time," Regina shoots back. "Plus, it's not like anyone else in this town actually knows how to balance a budget."

"Seems to me that you're having some issues letting go of old feelings of distrust towards the people in this town," Archie notes.

"Can you blame me?"

"If they can try to trust you again –"

Regina snorts. "Like I give a damn what they think."

"But I do," Emma states. "And I like that we can have lunch together out at Granny's without worrying about what everyone is thinking. And besides, you're full of shit. You actually love that you won in a landslide."

"I like to win."

"Okay, let's change the subject a bit," Archie suggests. "What about your relationship with Snow and David? Is that continuing to improve?"

"No."

"Bullshit. She and my father took Henry horseback riding last week."

"How'd that go?" Archie inquires.

Regina ignores him and turns towards Emma. "You know I'm never going to be really close to either of your parents, don't you? I might get along with them, and even do everything I can to bury our pasts, but they're still there, and there's only so much healing that can ever really happen between your mother and I. We will always still have so much bloody history behind us."

"I know, and all joking aside, I'm not expecting or even hoping for anything more that what we already have. I'm just glad that I don't have to choose."

"We were never going to make you have to choose," Regina assures her. "I think that's the one thing that all of us always agreed upon."

Emma squeezes her hand in appreciative response to that.

"Okay, so we've touched on your jobs, your pasts, your family situation and Regina's headaches. Emma, what about your nightmares?"

"They come and go. They've been better lately, but they're still around."

"And Regina, what about yours?"

"They're a part of me," she says simply.

"So what do you do if you both wake up with nightmares?"

The women exchange a look of amusement, and then Emma smirks. It's enough to make Archie's eyes go wide as he realizes what they're implying.

"I mean…I don't mean to get personal like that. I…"

"Relax, Doctor," Regina drawls. "We use the heavy bag out that's out in the garage. It was something that worked out well for us at the beach house, and we've found that it still has some value here in Storybrooke as well."

"And then we do that other thing."

Regina shoots her a look and Archie coughs to clear his look; Emma grins.

"Right. Okay, good. And what about Henry? How is he?"

"You see him every week," Emma reminds him.

"Then let me clarify, how is he with the two of you?"

"I think he's…" Regina pauses, searching for the right word. "I think he's happy having both of us. And I think he's happy with…I think in general."

"I would agree," Archie notes, again scribbling on the pad.

"So, then Archie," Emma prompts. "Tell us: how are we doing?"

He chuckles. "You're making it work," he says. "And that's all that matters."

"I know a nonsense answer when I hear one," Regina reminds him.

"I'm sorry. What I meant was, if someone had asked me months ago if the Evil Queen and the Savior could ever find their way to a real form of love, I would have had my doubts. Even after the beach house, you were both still keeping secrets from each other, and trying to protect each other instead of trying to grow what you'd built. It's terrible to say, but Owen may have done you both a favor by forcing you to look into the eyes of your relationship and accept that it's the imperfections of it that make it work."

"Did he have to nearly kill me to make that point?" Emma grouses.

"Probably not, but what's done is done, and you've both come out stronger because of it. You've actually built something real now, something that doesn't exist simply because of the absence of conflict and noise."

"Yeah," Emma agrees, her hand tightening around Regina's again. "Okay."

Regina settles for blinking her eyes in agreement, her throat suddenly too tight to get any kind of words out; this kind of thing is quite unbelievable to her, that she could out of the ruins of so much hurt have built something so good. But she has and the proof of it is in the hand that holds hers.

"I think we're done for the day," Archie says gently. "It's a beautiful afternoon, and I'm sure Pongo would like to take advantage of it. You two should as well. Regina, I'll see you here next Wednesday as usual, yes?"

"Of course."

She stands up, wipes out her eyes, and then offers him a smile.

It's rare and beautiful and he smiles back like she'd just given him a hug.

She exhales, and Emma touches her back lightly, and says, "How about it, Madam Mayor? You up for an afternoon of hooky with the Sheriff?"

Regina rolls her eyes in response. "Don't think I won't dock your pay for it."

"I'm not back on the clock yet, remember? Can you dock your own pay?"

"Why would I do that? I'm allowed to be frivolous."

"I didn't know you knew the word."

"Hilarious, dear. My jacket, please?"

"Of course," Emma drawls as she helps Regina into the jacket. Her gait is a bit awkward and odd thanks to her mostly healed leg, but neither of them notice it, so wrapped up are they in their rapid-fire back and forth.

Archie watches as Emma pulls Regina close to her side, and whispers something improper in her ear – improper enough to make the former queen color around the cheekbones, and then swat the sheriff away from her with what sounds like an aggrieved huff.

It comes out more like an amused sigh.

When they leave his office, walking close together down the street, he watches them from the window, his glasses high on his nose and eyes on them the whole way as they cross towards Granny's Diner. They're not like normal couples and never will be. Regina will never be comfortable with dramatic displays of public affection, and Emma will never feel the desire to be a complete homebody. He thinks that they will always push and pull each other to their very limits of their tolerance with each other.

But maybe this is always how it was supposed to go.

Because the Evil Queen and the Savior falling in love with each other? That's the kind of insanity that literary lunatics write volumes about. That's the kind of thing that people in this world act out on stages and writes ballads about.

This one just happens to be about war and peace and family and love.

And how only through the haze of war could these two find a kind of peace.

A kind of peace which includes family and love and new beginnings.

Archie turns to Pongo and says, "You ready to head out for the day, boy?"

Pongo wags his tail happily and lets out a short sharp bark.

The quiet man who had once been a heartbroken cricket in need of redemption who had once been a cowardly man who made a terrible mistake considers the many strange and wonderful things that can bring even a desperately broken and lonely soul happiness. He glances once more down the street at the disappearing forms of the Savior and the Evil, Queen, and he thinks about the curious stories that will one day be written about their relationship.

Not yet, though.

Because there's still so much more to tell.

He smiles again at this thought, and then closes the window.

-Fin.

As always, if interested, I can be found over at sgtmac7 on Tumblr