AN: I really wanted this last part to be one chapter, but it's turning into a very long and tedious experience, so Part 3 is going to be two chapters. This was exhausting to write this, and I'm still not sure exactly why I did so be kind. To recap; last time we saw my terrible versions of beloved characters, Emma was in love with Snow, Regina was in hate with Snow, and Snow just wants everyone to get along (by manipulating everyone all the time). So now Snow and Regina are in a back and forth war to get the upper hand, and Emma is just kind of regressing into a hormonal teenage state instead of being a grown up about anything.

This is in Snow's POV.

Warnings: Incest. Dub-con.

"Regardless, my love for you is something that can't be erased in this life or the next. You're in my heart, carved out and nestled with the blood that we share, and the scar is in the shape of your name."

Part III. The Scar

{1/2}

The curse broke, and so did I. You were still who you always were, but my mind was filled with another life and more roles to more people.

It broke, and so did you. Clinging at me and needing me like a child would, but I've only ever known you as a woman.

It broke and took away happiness just as curses are always meant to do.

Sometimes I mother her, fuss over cuts or scraps she gets at work, or I do her nails and braid her hair on the couch while movies play, or we bake something together and make a mess of the kitchen. She claims I can't make a cookie to save my life, but she still eats them when they're done cooling, just because it makes me smile.

Those times are my favorite.

Not that I don't enjoy other times as well. It has been an interesting adjustment when the two of us accepted the darker aspects of our relationship. Though it brought a light into it as well. A balance. A love more encompassing and complete than I've ever experienced. Something overwhelming to the point of panic, yet as content as still water. Something I never thought I would want is something I'll never let go. Emma is my whole world now, and even if there's tension at times, the searching for a role that such displacement can cause—even if the darker aspects get darker as the nights go on, twisting and turning in our head like a hungry beast that's never satisfied. Still. The love is there.

She still loves me, and I will do anything to keep her happy and with me.

If you never believe anything I've ever said, or ever will say,

Just know that I didn't mean for any of this to happen.

Emma is trying on dresses for me at the local boutique, and she's doing a fine job pretending to hate it. Even if I see the flush on her cheeks every time I praise her for wearing what I picked out. I'm sitting outside the singular fitting room, as a few random customers are roaming through the store. Emma comes out in a white sundress with big and bold green flowers printed on it.

"This is my favorite one." I say, with wide and excited eyes, and an admiring tone.

"You've said that about all of them." She responds, with a playful eye roll, turning to the side to look at herself in the full length mirror that the store has hanging up outside the fitting rooms. I stand up to move behind her, looking at her through the mirror as well.

"I mean it though. This one. It brings out your eyes." She smiles along with me at that, while I straighten out stray creases in the shoulders of the dress, and adjust the fall of her long blonde hair that Emma has put up in a ponytail for the day. The cloths and the hair makes her look so much younger than she is, all bright colors and shining cheeks. She comes off as no older than eighteen. "You look so beautiful." I say, full of sincerity and emotion, and the compliment makes her smile even brighter. I sigh, and run my hands down her arms, linking our fingers together, still facing the mirror, but all I see is her. "Sometimes, I can't stand how much you've grown without me." My voice cracks a bit, so I clear my throat and turn her around, keeping my eyes on her dress, pulling and shifting it so that it fits just right, wondering if I'll have to take it in at all around the waist. Emma's eyes are burning into me.

"Do you remember your mother?" I look up at her, not expecting such a question, and with such a genuine curiosity. "Your real mother." Emma clarifies.

"Yes." I say simply, looking back down at the dress. I don't talk about her very often anymore. Maybe a passing memory to David, but even without mentioning it, she's always in the back of my mind. "She passed away when I was eight."

"What was she like?"

After a shaky breath I meet Emma's eyes again with a sad smile.

"She was known for her beauty but admired for her kindness. She taught me what it was to be a true leader, to understand my people, and to know empathy." My smile fades a little at the thought. "The world never seemed quite as bright after she died."

"I'm sorry." My daughter takes my hand again, squeezing it gently for good measure.

"I've lost a lot of my family. That's why it's so important to me." My words remind me once again how much Emma means to me, and how I'll never lose her again. No matter what.

I come back from putting the other dress choices away and tell her to keep the green one on for now, which she does, albeit somewhat reluctantly. When I walk back she's in the fitting room, the door slightly ajar and checking her phone. Probably texting her father and checking in on his shift alone at the station. I've already lightly scolded her a few times for doing that today. I come up behind her and playfully snatch the phone out of her hands mid text.

"Hey—"

"So, can we agree on this dress for your birthday outfit?" I close to the fitting room door behind me to get to Emma's purse that's hanging off a hook on the back of it. It's not a particular large space, but there's enough room for two people, barely. I drop the phone in her purse, before glancing at it quick to make sure it was her father she was messaging, which I'm right to think as much.

"I prefer jeans." Emma huffs a bit, not for the first time today, as I turn back around to face her.

"You have to wear a dress at least once a year, you are technically royalty, after all."

"Fine." She rolls her eyes and I arch an eyebrow at her. She's acting as young as she looks today, but she does get into her moods, especially when she's with me. Acting out like an angst ridden teen. Emma must be making up for lost time, I suppose.

"So cooperative." Sarcasm laces my words, then the gears in my head start turning, followed by a smirk soon after. "I think it might help if we wore the dress out of the store today. So you can get more used to it."

She looks at me for a moment, wondering if I'm being serious or not.

"Oh, come on." Emma chuckles lightly, but my expression doesn't waver, so her face falls. I take a half of a step towards her, which puts us practically nose to nose.

"And a dress this beautiful," I reach down to catch the hem of the dress with my fingers, settled at her knees. She tenses and eyes widen as hands move up her thighs, dragging nails lightly and making her stumble back slightly. "Doesn't need any additions to it." I curl my hands around the waistband of her underwear, and as I pull them down long legs, I feel her slightly shaking thighs against my fingers.

"What are…?" She whispers, and I let the white cotton drop to her ankles, looking down to enjoy the visual before lightly tapping the back of her thigh to indicate what I wanted, with my hands still under her dress. Without hesitation she steps out of them. I feel her shaky breath against my cheek, carrying the faint smell of bubblegum she was chewing earlier, and I feel that dark pull against my insides when Emma says my name; Mom.

My eyelids get heavy and I look at her again, watching those cheeks get redder and pupils get blacker. My hands move out from under her dress and to the back of it, tracing the zipper along her spine, keeping my sight on hers as I undo it just enough to be able to slip my fingers in to unhook the clasp of her bra.

Emma's eyes widen, and so does my smile along with all my dark intentions.

It's a nice day outside, but the bite that the wind has is undeniable, and my smirk is back when I see Emma cross her arms over her chest. No amount of cool wind seems to cut away at the heat in her cheeks though. Our car is parked a few blocks down the street, so it makes for a leisurely walk that I drag on as long as I can. Window shopping and side eyeing Emma's grumbling.

Once we're in front of a small jewelry store on the downtown stretch, I stop and let myself get lost in thought.

"Let's pop in here real quick." I announce, my eyes catching on a pair of pearls that were being displayed in the window. Emma didn't seem too keen on the idea though, whispering next to me.

"Okay, you proved your point, and I'm feeling more than just a little exposed here so I'm going to wait in the car."

Which we both know she won't be doing without the keys that I had in my purse, so her tone was more apologetic than demanding. I turn my head away from the window and towards her, with a hundred-watt smile.

"Real quick." I repeat with a wink, and she rolls her eyes in response.

Once we're in the store, I don't waste much time browsing and instead ask the bored looking owner to let us see the pearl necklace that was one of the many pieces being displayed in the shop window. He manages to tear himself away from his phone long enough to get them for me, while Emma finds herself in a corner of the shop that she can sulk in. The man goes back behind his counter as I walk up to my daughter.

"I know it's dangerous to mess with perfection," My voice has a smile in it and it draws her attention slightly, mostly her eyes are skirting over my shoulder and clocking the shopkeeper, no doubt making sure his eyes stay on the phone. "But won't these look stunning with your dress?" The pearl necklace is held up for her to glance at as I nod my head slightly and deliberately, causing the blush to run down her neck as Emma slowly drops her crossed arms. I look over her and watch quickly hardening nipples that can't be blamed on the warm air of the store.

"Perfection." I whisper and lean in to put the necklace on for her, wrapping my arms around Emma's neck and bringing our bodies just a hair's length away, as I connect the hook and hear her shaky breathing. Then I'm running my fingers along the string of pearls, feeling the smooth bumps, while the back of my knuckles run along the front of her chest and along the curve of her breasts. I feel her nipples pebble harder as I brush against them, looking down at Emma's neckline, and seeing them even more prominently through the material of her dress. The pull of arousal hits me hard in my stomach, licking my bottom lip subconsciously, as she bites hers.

Quickly I'm turning around towards the owner still sitting behind the counter and pulling out my credit card.

"Can she wear them out?" I ask cheerfully, walking over and handing my card to the now smiling man, and Emma crosses her arms over her chest once more.

There are spotlights on a stage of every version of Emma that exists. Every part of her that makes her real and my daughter and the savior and the sheriff. One by one the lights go out in my brain, making all my thoughts and reservations, all the things that bring a heaviness to my limbs and a nausea to my stomach—one by one it's pushed back to a place I can't see.

And the cold darkness leaves one light on, and it's her. Wearing pearls.

She keeps the necklace on, but damned if I'm going to ruin such a pretty dress before her birthday, so the garment is hanging neatly on the back of the door at one of the Inn rooms that we're staying at for the night. Emma insisted. She wanted me all to herself today, just the two of us.

It feels like it's only us in the entire world for the short time we have together, sharing each other's space and moving together in a rhythm, sharing breaths and whispering the things we can never say too loud.

You're mine,

Please,

We both needed this, to bring strength to our bond. It gets difficult to have time to ourselves in the crowded apartment, and the more nights I sleep in bed with David, the more sullen and drawn away I feel her become.

I need you,

I need more,

Sometimes though, I do sneak into bed with her once he's gone to sleep. Not for anything sexual, but just to feel the warmth and physical touch of each other. It kills me that she never grew up to know her mother's touch, and I try to make up for that fact as often as I can.

Open up for me,

Let me in,

Tonight isn't about being a mother though, and I can tell that from the look in her eyes. She wants Mary Margaret tonight, and who am I to say no to that face? Those wide green eyes and red cheeks, and the whimpering as she tries to muffle into one of the pillows. Neck twisted to the side, on her back and open for me, and that dark part of us takes over like it always does and tears us apart.

Say it, baby,

Mommy, please…

Sometimes this part is my favorite, building her up and watching how hard she crashes down. Emma will fall apart right down to molecules, and I put her back together putting my love in every little piece.

And sometimes, this part is my favorite. I'm watching her small smile and sleepy eyes as the night grows later and we lie in bed and curled against each other. Enjoying the feel of each other and pretending like tomorrow doesn't exist.

I did try to fight against my feeling for you, I cried over you and it tore apart my thoughts. You made it so hard to separate the two roles though, because every time you looked at me, I could see it—that tension between us that we're never meant to share.

You made it so easy to fall back into lover's arms, while the world claimed it a mother's embrace.

Everything goes perfectly when planning Emma's birthday party. Granny caters at the Diner, decorations line the walls, drinks on the tabletops, and everyone shows up to bring good cheer and gifts. All the while my daughter is being a perfect princess the whole time, polite and courteous as taught. The dress she's wearing looks gorgeous and I even convince David to wear a tie.

Everything is perfect and just the way I planned it. Which is wonderful, with no surprises, no disasters, and nothing very interesting.

That is until Regina shows up.

She strolls in as the queen she's always been, shattering the sea of pastel cloths with her sharp black pant suit, and a pristine white blouse. Her hair and make-up looking perfect as always, and I very discreetly wrap my hand around David's arm because the sight of it weakens my legs a bit. A hush falls over the Diner, but her smile and dish of lasagna that she immediately presents to Granny with a genuine smile, causes the stir of voices to rise back into its normal conversations. Everyone knew Regina was invited, but most of us didn't think she'd show. I certainly didn't expect it, as she's been quiet since her and I were together at her mansion. Quiet, but I'm sure calculating her chance to take back control, because that's what she's lived for for so long, I doubt she knows any other way. Still, I tell myself that I've been enjoying the peace between us these last few weeks, despite the wounds it opened to create it, and despite how temporary it may be.

I've enjoyed the peace, until I see her stroll up to Emma with her predatory stride and heels clicking, and a war breaks out inside my head. That constant conflict that she creates, full of desire and protectiveness. Most of the time I'm telling myself that there was only one reason I was with Regina that night, and it was to keep her away from Emma. Still, at this moment it's hard to deny that there's always a nostalgic longing for her, not simply sexual alone, but a longing for love and acceptance that she's always only given in the smallest doses, overpowered by her claims of revenge and hate for me. I can never trust Regina, which makes me want to fall into her all the more. Just to make things interesting again.

There's a big part of me that has been convinced I was done with all things involving Regina. We got what we needed to get from each other, one last time, but seeing her again after such an intense and emotional encounter is leaving me so utterly affected. A lack of control that she always takes so easily from me.

Regina walks up to my daughter and my eyes are on them like a hawk. David and I are standing next to the diner bar, but not far enough from Emma so that I can't see or hear anything the former mayor may say to her. An outstretched hand is accepted graciously, but Regina takes the opening to turn it into a half hug and kiss on the cheek, which makes my own cheeks start to burn red.

"Emma, so nice to see you." Regina states regally and pulls back from the hug with a smile, making no indication that their last meeting was full of such tension a few weeks ago at the police station. Emma lets go of her hand with a mumbled 'thanks'. "This dress looks lovely, but I must admit that I prefer your style of leather and denim." I can see the flush run up Emma's neck and I roll my eyes at the line. "Regardless of how seamlessly the green in your dress goes…" Regina looks to the side and meets my line of sight with flawless ease. "With your eyes."

We stand off like that for almost a moment too long until the sound of Henry coming up to Regina is all the former queen can focus on.

"Mom!" He exclaims, which brings the most genuine smile across her face, and I've never seen her look at anyone the way she looks at Henry. That conflict in my head dims to make way for a slow burning jealousy that starts to form clouds, until Emma blocks my view of the mother and son while she walks up to me and takes my hand.

"My party is great, thank you." She says, and I visibly shake myself out of my thoughts to smile at her.

"Your father did the decorations." My hint doesn't go unnoticed, so I move out from the crook of his arm so that she can give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Emma is being perfect tonight, and I should be thinking about a reward for her, but all I do is watch Regina talk to Henry at a far booth, both oblivious to anyone else.

A while later, something pulls my grandson's attention, leaving Regina alone and before I know it, I'm bringing two glasses of red wine to her booth. She hasn't had a drink all night, and I might have had a few too many, which is a rare combination for us.

"Regina, I'm glad you came." I say lightly as I place one of the wine glasses in front of her and sit in the spot where Henry was a moment ago. She looks over to me with a glare the entire time, but it isn't full of death and destruction. Just a light fire. It keeps me warm.

"I can tell." Her voice is velvet and sharp all at once, and combined with the wine I've already had, it makes my breath catch. "You haven't stopped watching me since I got here."

"Can you blame me? You look stunning." I take a sip of wine that doesn't satisfy my thirst. Regina considers me for a moment, raising her eyebrow and looking away.

"Thank you."

I almost laugh at how sharp and resentful the words are.

"You're very appeasing tonight." Maybe I do chuckle a bit, unconvinced of her trying to play nice. It makes her look back at me with no humor on her face.

"If you're looking for a fight or a fuck to make things more interesting for you, then you're not going to get it." Regina pushes her untouched wine glass away from her slightly. "I'm here for Henry, and nothing else."

I will admit, she does know me better than anyone. A part of me doesn't even realize that I'm trying to get a rise out of her until she lays out my flaws on the table. It's refreshing, in a way. Infuriating in other ways.

"You're a good mother to him, I can tell." I try to keep the jealousy out of my voice, but she makes it hard with the snide retort that follows.

"As if you could tell such a thing."

My next drink of wine is more generous, only to keep myself from going down to her level. Once the drink is done though, so is my filter.

"Perhaps my experience with mothering figures is a bit—…warped."

That turns her sight red, and I feel the rush of temporary victory because of it. She leans in and over the table slightly, making sure no one but me can hear her.

"Stop your train of thought." Regina orders harshly. "I was drunk most every day just to survive the nights, and you're the one who took advantage of that." I don't know if she's talking about our time at the castle, or more recently when I was with her at her mansion. Either way she may have a point. I do always like her better drunk because it makes her more honest. As it is, she's full of a sobering pain, and that pain comes through in her tone regardless of how she tries to stop it. "I never raised you—I was never anything to you, least of all a mother."

It's a kind of pain that isn't true, regardless of how hard she tries to believe it. Just like every time, she looks to me for an escape, and I'm always more than happy to get lost with her. We oblige each other. Living in that castle wasn't easy for either one of us, and the nights weren't always hers to survive—

"What do you mean by that?" She sort of snaps, her sight narrowing but not out of anger, more of a confusion.

I didn't realize I had spoken. I feel my throat close along with my mind, suddenly not remembering my train of thought. Or much of anything, really.

Cold chills start run through me, but my face flares hot—

The very next thing I know, I'm throwing up in the back alley behind Granny's. My hand is against the brick of the wall, hunched over and breathing heavy between dry heaves. I look over to see Regina standing next to me, but she's not watching me, her head is turned past me and trying very hard to look annoyed.

Luckily, I was able to avoid my blouse from getting ruined by the sudden sickness I don't remember. Once I feel the spasms settle in my stomach, I spit once for good measure then stand up from the wall, letting go of it and using the back of my hand to wipe at my lips. If Regina had a handkerchief or napkin with her, I'm sure she would already be offering it to me. Trying very hard to look annoyed all the while.

"What happened?" I ask with a rough voice, turning to face her and wishing I could have some water to just get rid of the taste.

"You tell me." Regina counters back and waits, but I don't have anything to say so her waiting turns into a curious examination of my face. Looking for lies that are never there, as usual. Finally, she clears her throat. "You started mumbling some nonsense and then got very pale."

Cautious to step over to where the ground is dry, I lean my back on the brick of the wall, not confused or concerned. Regina on the other hand tries very hard not to seem either confused or concerned.

"It's a good thing I took you outside before you traumatized my son by reenacting scenes from The Exorcist." That annoyed tone is betrayed by her eyes that won't leave mine. I cross my arms against the chill of the night and it makes me wish I had the blazer that she's wearing. "It was quite an episode."

I roll my eyes lightly, but then just end up closing them against the headache.

"I probably just drank too much." It comes out more as a sigh, no fight prevalent in my voice anymore, just exhaustion. It smells like garbage and vomit in this alley, and for a moment I just want to lay down and die here. The feeling will pass with my nausea though.

"You've done this before."

The words just hang there in the darkness behind my eyelids.

"You've seen me drink wine before." I reply, but it sounds far away, like I'm more remembering the words than speaking them.

"Has this happened since the curse broke?" Regina's voice is softer and closer, causing me to match her gaze that never leaves my face. Curious brown eyes trying to decipher some kind of code inside me. As if she hasn't already examined every part of my mind and body a thousand times over. The only thing she hasn't had her fingers in is my heart, but I still feel her there regardless.

"It was just the wine." I'm tired now, and I don't want to play any more games. She steps closer to me, and I stand up straight off the wall, her eyes scan over the sleeveless blouse I'm wearing, and then after a beat she smoothly takes off her blazer to put it around my shoulders. It's disconcerting to see her use such a caring and innocent action towards me, but any nervous feeling from it is dimmed by the immediate smell of her perfume that's engulfing my senses, and her blazer is warm, so I cross my arms under it, holding it closer to me.

"Guilt can be a terribly destructive thing, can't it?" That voice is all velvet now, and I blink slowly at the sound, her scent and warmth forming clouds in my head, but then I remember who she is, and who I am to her.

"How would you know? You're incapable of such a thing." I reply as stern as I can manage after clearing my throat, because if she thinks she has suddenly gained an upper hand just because I drank too much, then she certainly has another thing coming. "But I'm aware of the things you are capable of, so what angle of my destruction are you playing at here?"

"Excuse me?" Regina asks with mock surprise. "I'm only doing what you told me to do. I'm behaving, and as you said there are benefits to it. Don't throw a fit just because I don't wish for my benefits to involve you." She talks down to me and gives a cheap dig, but it digs regardless. "Besides, why would I try to destroy you?" Her smile grows dark as she talks, looking me over, and the dark glee rising in her eyes must be because I'm vulnerable right now, not putting on my mask as easily as usual. There's not much Regina enjoys more than hurting me. "You seem to be doing that all on your own." She takes the few steps between us, causing me to push back against the wall, on high alert, and bracing myself for her unpredictable temper.

Instead of violence, she lifts the back of her hand slowly and runs it along my jaw gently, a gentle caress, and I'd honestly prefer her to slap me. The hidden agenda behind her soft voice, and the glint in her eyes, it makes me feel like throwing up again.

The fingers on my jaw trace along my face and settle at my temple, where my pulse is pounding from the headache that's just getting worse.

"Mom?" A small voice comes from the entrance of the alley, and i can tell both of us think it's Henry for a split second, causing her to jerk away from me violently and we both swing around to see Emma standing there. "Regina? What are you guys doing out here?" The line of questions seamlessly shifts from confused to suspicious. "Are you okay?" She asks me, eyes only on me, walking quickly over to me, while the former mayor subtly moves away from us, and it makes me feel warm inside that she's so quick to take my side. Despite Regina's efforts, there's some things that can't replace blood.

"I'm fine, Emma." Her hand goes on my arm when she reaches me, and a quick glance towards Regina shows nothing readable on her face. Not scared or even interested in the encounter playing out in front of her, but the look feels more calculated. "I just drank too much." A comforting small smile is poorly given because I still feel off and nauseous, and I want to get out of this alleyway.

"What did you do to her?" Emma demanded with a restraint of force in her tone. The only reaction it brings from Regina is a light eye roll.

"Certainly not give her wine on an empty stomach."

"She just took me out back, so I could get some air." I countered quickly, not wanting this to escalate into anything more. My hand snags on hers, holding it and squeezing lightly until she looks over to me. "I'm fine, Emma." My insistence seems to calm her down, and she nods, before giving a halfhearted glance back at Regina.

"I'll take it from here."

"Fitting." She responds monotone, before taking a pace back and turning towards the door that leads back into the kitchen of the diner. "I'll go say goodnight to Henry, and my compliments on a wonderful party, Emma."

I watch Emma's unreadable glare towards an unbothered queen that thinks she's one step away from winning.

Emma drives me home, leaving her own party early despite my insistence that I was fine. My protest is weak though, and I can tell that Emma's angry. I'm not sure if it's all directed towards me, but it is there. So after I clean up in the bathroom, we both head out in David's pick-up truck, barreling down Main Street, my daughter's demeanor changing quickly from princess to sheriff, her red leather jacket tossed over her dress, and the colors of both clash unpleasantly. I'm leaning against the passenger door, feeling small in the large bucket seat, with Regina's blazer folded tight and neat in my lap.

"You want to tell me what's going on with you and Regina?" Her voice sounds far away, and it feels so late in the night already.

"No, because nothing is going on." I whisper just loud enough for her to hear over the engine of the truck, my headache still strong from the blackout I had in the diner.

"I saw her practically on top of you in the alley—" She starts with an exponentially stronger tone.

"It's not like that." I interrupt dismissively, because with Regina things are never as simple as they seem. A simple sway or smirk can mean something terribly destructive, and she can claim my manipulation all she wants, but I never hurt people just for the sake of hurting them. Just to watch the pain on their face.

"And a few weeks ago?" Emma breaks through my thoughts with the question that's she's asked before. "When you went over to her house? What happened then?"

"This again? I thought we were done talking about it." I knew Emma wouldn't let it go though, but tonight isn't the night I wanted to go over it all again, especially with Regina's words still ringing in my ear.

Emma slows the truck down quickly, not enough to make a jerking stop, but before I know it we're pulled over to the side of the road.

"You were done. I wasn't." She shifts into park then turns her body to face me fully. "Did you have sex with her?"

"I had to." I spoke quietly, looking out of the passenger side window. The town was so empty and calm, everyone must still be at the Diner. "It was the only way she would stay quiet about us."

"She forced you?" The air grows heavy at the question, her voice dangerously low and tense.

For a split second I consider lying, because Emma would believe me, and then Regina would lose. Until she's up for another fight at least. So no one ever really wins or loses, and the only real way you can beat Regina is to break her. It's a line I just can't cross, not for nothing.

"No." I whisper, getting lost in thought.

"Mom…" She tries to urge, sounding like she doesn't believe me because I'm not very convincing. My head turns towards her and eyes pin her down with a more confident stare.

"I didn't have a choice that I could see at the time—…But no, she didn't force me." Once she believes me, she waits for me to go on, and the air feels so thick I want to open the windows in the truck. "Regina is just…" I start, but then reconsider. "Look, any weakness I let her exploit was only to protect you. To keep you happy and safe."

Emma's eyes flash angry at me again.

"What does that mean? You're purposely being vague, when you can just say it. You fucked her."

"It was to make sure she didn't tell anyone about us." My voice goes sharp and loud, despite the pounding in my head, because I'm not going to let her talk to me like that. "Unless you want it to be on the front page of the Storybrooke Mirror. You would lose everything, which includes Henry." That starts to take the fight out of her, glancing away from her mother's scolding. "And it's because of you that she even knows to begin with." She cringes at that last part, making me stop and take a breath before I go too far. My thoughts and voice grow less accusing and more pleading, taking one of her hands away from the death grip she has on the steering wheel, which causes her to look down at the action. "I know I just made everything worse, but I was desperate Emma. I was so desperate to protect you."

A long time passes in the silence of the truck, Emma watching my thumb rub absent circles into her palm.

"Is she still in love with you?" My daughter finally asks, almost in a whisper, and it takes a moment to process what she just asked me.

"What?" There's a light scoff that comes from me. "Regina has felt a lot of things for me, but never love."

"She did, once." Her voice sounds young and hurt, and I'm wondering how she would even know such a thing. "She let it slip when she was talking to me at the Station, and tried to cover for it but," Emma shakes her head. "I could tell."

That is interesting.

It was something still on the surface of emotions, this something I didn't even know, but if Regina let it slip after all this time it must be on her mind still. My daughter has a power about her, and it makes me smile with pride.

"I know it means nothing now, but I really only did it for us." I say finally, squeezing her hand and she finally meets my eyes.

"You should've told me though, I could've helped before it got that far."

"What could you do?" I ask with a defeated sigh, the energy for this conversation draining out of me again. "She'll only fill your head with her brand of truth. Regina wants to turn you against me."

She scoffs with the bravery she gets from her father.

"Has it ever occurred to you that I don't care what Regina wants?" Her hand goes up and cups my cheek, and it's because of the empty streets that I allow it. "I love you, and she's not going to come between us." We kiss and she finally smiles, which I return but it's forced.

Emma just sounds so sure, but I can't have the same kind of confidence that she does. I know Regina too well, and the former Queen has a way of lingering.