Regina's POV

The memories rushed to the surface, a bursting damn of sights, sounds and smells. She remembered everything: finding Emma, their life together, how she felt when…

She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, focusing on the sharp pain.

She wasn't ready to go there. Not yet. There was too much. Too many feelings to sort through. Too many images. Too many promises both kept and broken. She had to push those aside. She needed time to process.

She also had to deal with the present. Emma was here now. She needed to take care of her first.

She took a deep breath and released slowly. The memories shifted to their compartments. Their imprints were harder to get through. They lingered over her, distorting her senses. She smelt Emma's skin and hair, tasted her lips. Her fingers twitched with the ghost of Emma beneath her. The warmth of her body consumed her. She could hear Emma's breath in her ear.

She shook it away and swallowed.

Find what's relevant, she told herself. What had she done to Emma? How much damage was there?

She dug through the memories, reaching deep through endless nights of conversation, soft kisses and unbridled laughter. The memories were darker here, but not unpleasant. Not like she expected. She remembered the whip, Emma on her knees, pale skin in the firelight. The striking sound jarred her, but the motion… her motions were restrained, testing. She had a goal and the goal wasn't to break Emma. It never was.

The Queen's grip tightened on her chair, her head tilted as she gazed into the mirror. The girl was sleeping again, curled into the fetal position on the damp floor of her dungeon. Her red dress was torn up the side from a scuffle with her guards. That had been an intriguing surprise. Many of her prisoners chose to fight, but a princess?

You know the girl's not a princess.

She sighed. She did know. She knew the moment she gazed upon her face. The blonde stood before her, sandwiched between her knights. Her shoulders squared as their eyes met, her voice strong and confident. No princess spoke the way she did.

No one with good sense spoke the way she did.

The girl had nearly lost her life in that moment. Regina had little time for fools or imposters. Magic surged and her senses spiked as she readied her strike. That was when she noticed it: garlic and ginger root, with the faintest smattering of honey. Rumple. The girl was covered with his magic.

No. She was covered by his magic.

She focused her gaze, catching the glimmer of power. The woman before her was disguised. By the imp? What possible reason did he have for sending a peasant to a ball?

Well, it wouldn't be the first time.

That was true. Rumple had made a deal with the cinder girl, but he'd needed a royal baby for something. She could only guess at the reason and quite frankly she didn't want to. As dark as her heart was, Rumple eclipsed her any day of the week. His imagination and thirst for power succeeded hers by far. But this girl wasn't here to win a prince. She was aiding Snow White and had used her name.

The confidence was perplexing. At first she assumed the woman was a confidant of Snow, someone she knew who was helping Leopold's brat escape. The wolf perhaps? How many others were brave enough to speak the queen's name?

She had tugged at Rumple's magic and another signature flared. Forest rain, lilacs and butterscotch? Magic. Locked magic but magic none the less. Who was this girl?

There were many ways to trap a witch's power. Most of them involved a curse. That might explain the woman's presence at Midas' Castle and her motive for helping Snow. How far would she go to free her own power? There was only one answer. As far as it took. She would make a deal with the imp. She didn't know a witch who wouldn't. Once you unlocked the door to your power, there was no comfortable way to slam it shut again. The magic grew inside you, an itch you needed to scratch. An inability to reach it would be maddening.

If her inclinations were correct, she understood the motive. What she didn't understand was the girl's disguise. The game had changed. Death was off the table, at least for the time being. She wanted answers. Who was this girl? If she had made a deal with Rumple, why had he sent her to assist Snow?

More questions surfaced as days passed. Regina didn't immediately remove the girl's glamour. She found information more forthcoming after a few days of isolation. Her guards delivered stale bread twice a day and a mug of putrid water. There was one torch burning bright on the far wall, not close enough to ward off the chill of the dank dungeon air. The cold broke down stubborn resistance quickly. After a night of shivering they cursed her name. Two days of hunger and they raged against the bars. Three days of thirst and they screamed in the darkness. Within a week they begged for release, offering her what she wanted to know. Those that didn't, she helped along. But this girl….

The girl was at four days. She hadn't shown any signs of breaking. She ate the stale bread and drank the water. She didn't curse or scream. She didn't grovel for warmth or food.

She had paced the cell at first, fists clenching and releasing at her side. Her eyes flashed in the darkness, darting over dark corners as if expecting someone to appear. Rumple? At first she thought so. Though as far as she could tell, the girl had served her purpose. Rumple wouldn't come for her if he had obtained what he needed. Even if he hadn't, he'd find another way, if it were more convenient.

She'd since changed her mind. The girl wasn't looking for Rumple. Her behaviors were learned. She was prepared for an attack. It took only a night to realize from who. She didn't fall asleep easy. She shivered in the corner, arms laced around her knees. When sleep did find her, it wasn't peaceful. The whimpers were a sound Regina recognized. The sound of ghosts creeping from their graves. The girl had scars, and why wouldn't she? Most witches did. Magic was often awakened in times of hardship and pain, anger and desperation. They were all emotions Regina knew well. They were all emotions Snow had no frame of reference for.

Any yet this woman helped her?

Perhaps she didn't know better. Most of her citizens didn't. Was this girl even one of hers?

"Regina."

The Queen's head snapped up. There it was. The faintest of whispers, speaking her name. It happened each night, a silent plea the girl would not speak in the day. She did not beg. She did not seek mercy or pardon. She laid still, silently freezing and starving.

"Regina."

The hair on her arms stood on end. The woman had spoken her name with confidence at Midas' castle. In her dungeon, she should have tasted venom in the girl's voice. What she heard was reverence. What she heard was trust.

Her heart dropped. Her first instinct was to rip the girl's tongue from her throat. What right did she have to speak the queen's name with such… familiarity?

Regina had lifted her arm, purple smoke billowing beneath her feet. Another soft whisper caressed her skin and she froze, teeth grinding. She should whip the girl senseless for showing such disrespect. Yet she remained in her chamber, staring at the girl's trembling form.

She had walked away from the mirror, but found herself returning each night.

You wanted a companion.

She clamped down on her inner musings. It had been some time since she had taken on a new conquest. They withered in her presence, under the harsh conditions of her authority. Graham had survived, but not intact. Though he had fared better than most. Her training split each of her pets, crumbling them to dust at her feet. Graham hadn't crumbled. He also hadn't submitted. But this girl?

There was a chance. She had strength and resolve. She also had scars. That intrigued the Queen. Who had hurt this woman and why? And why would someone like that, someone like her choose to help Snow White? Why did any of the fools of her kingdom choose Snow White? She was the one with battle wounds. She was the one who could understand their hardships, their losses!

The Queen tapped her finger against the arm rest. Her kingdom would see her as their true Queen in time. For now, she just needed one person. She would keep this girl. She would train her, but more importantly, she would prove she deserved her loyalty. She would earn this girl's devotion, her secrets and her trust. If she could earn the devotion of one, she could earn the love of others, and then maybe…

Her chest convulsed, hope prodding against the darkness.

Don't. Not yet.

She wouldn't let herself hope. Not this time. She had had too many conquests and too many failures. She lost them all, deepening the black hole inside her.

She couldn't take much more. Her losses were already too great. She knew there was a possibility she was already too damaged. Cora. Daniel's loss. Her marriage to Leopold. They had taken their toll. They'd poisoned her in more ways than she could count. If she failed this time, there would be no going back. The hole in her heart would never fill. She would truly be the Evil Queen.

This would be different. She would make sure of it.

Regina inhaled a quivering breath, her eyes landing on the blond in front of her. She was thin and frail. Frailer than the last time they saw each other. Well, more frail than the last time the Queen saw her.

She studied Emma with renewed interest, taking in her demeanor through the eyes of both her present and former self. Emma rocked back and forth, her shoulders hunched and tense. She expected a reprimand. Had the Queen found Emma before her return to the present, she would have a received one.

She would have received more than that.

The Queen's anger flared and Emma twitched, green eyes burning a hole into the fabric of her couch.

Regina took a deep breath and her nostrils flared. She needed to pull herself together. Emma had run for good reason. Her present self-understood that. If Emma had stayed in the past, time would have caught up to them eventually. They ran the risk of changing the timeline and Emma's destiny. Even if they managed to avoid it, once Snow conceived, Emma would have weakened. Time travel was supposed to be impossible for a reason. She couldn't survive long living two lives in the same time period. The laws of the universe would correct the imbalance, meaning one of them would die.

She swallowed down the Queen's hurt. She would have to deal with her emotions at some point. She may accept Emma's decisions. She was even thankful for them. That didn't erase the original wound. Pain seared through her chest, red hot pokers prodding her heart and lungs.

The Queen stared at the stone floor. The metal links wound a path from her bed to the open shackles five feet away. They weren't broken. They were unlocked. Someone had unlocked…

Rain water filled her nose, despite the rising sun. The morning breeze carried the scent of spring flowers and butterscotch. Emma's magic. Emma had her magic?

Regina's heart froze in her chest, splintering as she breathed. Perhaps she was wrong and Emma was in the wash room. Regina hadn't set any rules about magic use. She hadn't thought she'd need to. She had put Emma through every test, watched as she struggled to reach her power. It slipped through her fingertips, spinning tumultuously inside her. The pressure should have been enough for Emma's power to break free, if it were possible. It hadn't. Still, Regina should have taken extra precautions; cast a binding spell of her own.

You should have confronted her about it.

Perhaps. It was what she normally would have done, but she hadn't wanted normal. Not this time. She wanted something more. She wanted Emma to confide in her. She wanted her trust. She didn't think Emma would leave. They had come so far and shared so much. Emma had endured so much. Why would she leave now?

It didn't make sense. Regina had given her several opportunities to run in the last month. She gave her unsupervised access to the castle and the gardens. She even sent Emma to the palace market and she'd came back. She hadn't tried to escape…

Snow White.

That's what all this was about, wasn't it? Emma's rule breaking, her punishment, the shackles. Emma had withheld information about Snow White. She knew the brat in some form, but Regina hadn't thought…

You let your guard down too early. Emma needed more time.

No. Emma had disobeyed her but Regina knew Emma wasn't in league with her enemies. Emma's arrival in her kingdom, her presence at Midas' ball, her connection to Snow White, it had to do with something else. There was a bigger story here. She knew it in her bones. She and Emma were connected by more than a chance encounter, and Emma's tie to Snow White was one of necessity. She just didn't know what was behind it.

Emma would tell her the truth eventually or Regina would help her do it. They were so close last night.

"I am protecting someone but it isn't Snow."

"Tell me."

"I can't."

Emma had taken her discipline, crying in her arms as the locks slipped free. There were so many. Regina had found the way into each of Emma's guarded tombs, but this secret, this door was a fortress. Charging it was risky and futile. The more she pushed, the more Emma fortified the locks, ceasing any progress they made.

Instead, she circled, opening the doors around it. She battled the ghosts inside, earning Emma's devotion and compliance. Each time she came a little closer to the answers she needed. She came a little closer to Emma letting her in.

She had played it safe yesterday. She disciplined, treading the line between Queen and confidant. She opened scars and soothed wounds. She taught hard lessons, reinforcing expectations and rewarding Emma's effort to obey. It was just the beginning. Today would be torture for both of them. Was that what unlocked Emma's magic? Was that why she ran?

Calm down. You don't know that she ran.

The blanket and pillow she had given Emma were folded neatly by the fire. Emma had completed her morning chores. Why bother? If she planned to run, stopping to fold her bedclothes was foolish.

Giving her a blanket was foolish. She didn't earn it. You were too soft with her and now look what's happened.

Bile churned in her stomach, climbing her throat. She blinked into the flames. Emma couldn't be gone. She was afraid. Whatever this secret was, it was enough to risk her wrath. Emma believed in her. She'd chosen her, protected her. She lo-

Loved you? Who could love you?

She flicked her wrist, appearing inside her vault. The genie stared back at her from the mirror, ready to do her bidding. "Find Emma."

"Regina?"

Emma's eyes fluttered, peeking through stands of blond hair. Guilt poured from her in waves of caramelized cotton candy and buttermilk. Emma had left her. She had left the queen.

Regina parted her lips, waiting for the right words. She was prepared for it. She was prepared for the queen's anger and frustration. Of course Emma had run from her. She was the Evil Queen. She wasn't prepared for the hurt or betrayal. She wasn't prepared to feel…

She wasn't sure how to categorize her emotions. For thirty years she had believed herself incapable of caring for another, at least until she found Henry. Motherhood had warmed the ice shards left by countless others, opening Regina to healing and affection. Her heart had warmed further once Emma came to Storybrooke. She never dreamed she had felt it before. The Queen took what she needed from those who shared her bed. She took pleasure, loyalty and companionship, giving nothing in return. She was damaged, darkened by the agendas of others. She had nothing to give, or so she had thought.

Emma…. She'd felt something for Emma, something beyond possession and excitement.

"Are you okay?" Emma's voice was strained as if slipping through a jagged glass window.

"I'm fine. A little overwhelmed… There's a lot…"

Emma nodded. "Should I go?"

"No!" The word lashed from her lips, surprising them both. Emma shrank back and Regina winced. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean… If you feel you should go…" Her stomach twisted. She didn't want Emma to leave. Quite frankly she didn't think either of them were ready for her to leave. She needed time to sort through everything and Emma needed her. Their shared relationship wasn't what she imagined but her responsibility remained the same. Emma was hers. She wasn't sure what that meant for them now. She wasn't even sure what that had meant back then.

Regina took a deep breath and tried again. "I don't want you to go, but I won't stop you if you decide to."

"Oh."

"Emma." She lifted the blonde's chin, catching her gaze. "My giving you the choice to leave is not me setting you free."

"Then what is it?"

"I don't know. I thought my memories would help me make a few decisions… turns out, those decisions might be more complicated than I suspected. I need time to process. Once I do, you and I will have a more serious conversation about how we proceed. But for tonight? I will give you space if you require it."

Emma's forehead rippled, her brows lifting towards her hairline. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. That doesn't mean there won't be rules or expectations. If you go home, you will follow the same guidelines I set for you last night. If the memories or emotions become too much, you call me. I want you to eat a snack before bed. A healthy snack. In the morning we'll meet at Grannies for breakfast."

"Okay."

Regina gave a curt nod. She glanced at the floor as she stood, not trusting herself to say anything further. She had promised herself she would do what was best for Emma. If returning to the loft was what she needed, Regina would let it be. She could keep an eye on her through the mirror.

"Regina?"

Her hand froze over the door knob as she glanced back. Emma was still on the couch, her eyes clear and confident. She sat straight, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

"I want to stay."

Regina released a breath, her own shoulders relaxing. "Okay."