A/N: Here it is, the saddest thing I've ever written. I should probably stop saying that, lest I scare people away from reading it. But I'm really happy (for lack of a better word?) with how this came out.

There is probably technically an emotional disclaimer that should be on this, but I don't want to put it on here because it gives away the story. So, that's your disclaimer. If that scares you, then I guess run away. It's not a trigger warning, I can tell you that much.

I spent a lot longer on this than I expected to, and put a lot of effort into it. So reviews, while never required, would be immensely appreciated.

It should be pretty self evident, but regular text is the present, italics are flashbacks.

Emma stared, unblinking, out the hospital room window. It was raining, trails of water on glass reflected in the droplets rolling down her cheeks. So badly, I ached to reach out, to wipe those tears away, though I knew it was impossible. I wondered if she was still angry with me. I wanted to ask, but I couldn't do that either.

Her gaze ripped itself away from the downpour, face contorting as she cried out, fingers clutching at her rounded belly. I was by her side in an instant.

"It's okay, Emma," I whispered as she breathed her way through the pain. "I'm right here. You're doing so well."

Ruby and Snow came bursting into the room just as the contraction began to subside. I suppose I didn't mind Ruby's presence so very much, but I wished that Snow didn't have to be here. This was my baby. Mine and Emma's. Not hers.

It still amazed me that Emma had offered to do this in the first place. My heart clenched each and every time I thought about it. Even now, in the Labor and Delivery wing, I stood in awe of her. It was the most selfless thing anyone had ever done for me.

Emma came by to pick up Henry at the end of my weekend with him. After a rough start, we'd come to find we could actually co-parent our son quite well, once personal differences were set aside. One would have hesitated to call us friends, but we were coming to stand on friendlier terms. Either way, she was the closest thing to one that I had.

Henry and I had lost track of time, and he had not yet gathered his things.

"No problem, kid," she said. "Take your time."

I poured us each a drink, and we settled onto the couch. Henry had Emma's tendency to dilly dally – he certainly didn't get it from me. Her eyes fell to one of his school pictures on the mantle. It was several years old, but one of my favorites; he was missing his two front teeth that year.

"Can I ask..." Emma began, hesitated, then continued, "Why adoption?"

A familiar ache bloomed in my chest. In all the years that I'd had Henry, no one had ever once asked me that question. I guess it was bound to come up eventually, but I'd never actually said the words out loud, as if doing so would make it somehow more true. Admitting it would mean giving up on that dream, accepting defeat.

I looked at Emma, and took a deep breath. It was time to say it, time to let go.

"I was unable to carry a child to term."

She looked at me with sympathy, not pity as I'd expected a person might, and I was at least grateful for that.

"I, um," she faltered again, and I wondered if this was really her idea of small talk. "I don't mean to pry..."

"They say I have a 'hostile uterus'," I answered before she finished, to save her from bumbling. I smiled a little, trying for a lighthearted tone as I added, "Ironic, isn't it? I guess once hostility gets into your blood, you can never quite rid yourself of it completely."

"Did you ever want to have more?" she asked.

"Yes," I replied. "I did."

This conversation was starting to feel a bit heavy for idle chatter meant to pass the time. I cleared my throat, trying to shake the fog from my mind.

"They said my best options were surrogacy or adoption. As you can imagine, there weren't exactly eligible women lining up at the door back then — much less now, after everything."

"I'd do it," she declared, this time without hesitation, making my breath catch in my lungs. I was a woman dying of thirst, and she'd just offered me an ocean of water. Though, the ocean is salty, I reminded myself. Daring to drink from it would only make one thirst endlessly for more. I couldn't dare to hope, not until I was certain it was pure.

"Do what?" Henry asked from the doorway, startling us both.

"Oh... nothing," Emma stuttered. "Grown up stuff. You ready to go, kid?"

Henry gave her a funny look; he knew it wasn't 'nothing', but nodded in confirmation. He hugged me goodbye – a real hug, which I cherished each and every time – then ran off, saying he'd meet Emma by the car. She followed close after, but turned back at the door.

"I really mean it," she said earnestly. "I'll do it, if you want me too. Just think about it."

"It hurts," Emma whimpered to no one in particular, pulling me back to the present moment.

I stepped back as Ruby and Snow took up residence on either side of Emma's bed, holding her hands and smoothing her hair.

"I know, sweetheart," Snow cooed into her ear. "I know it does. Are you sure you don't want anything for the pain?"

"No," Emma shook her head. "No drugs."

"What about a spell?" Ruby suggested.

"No!" Emma called even more firmly. "No magic! Regina and I agreed. Absolutely no magic."

I breathed a small sigh of relief. Even if she was still upset with me – which seemed rather likely, knowing her – at least she still valued my opinion, still adhered to the plan we'd made together.

Another brutal contraction hit, and I could hardly bear the sight of her in such pain.

"Are you sure?" Ruby asked once it passed.

"Magic always comes with a price," Emma mumbled sleepily. "And this baby is not going to pay for it."

"It would help make things more bearable," Snow pressed gently.

Emma rolled her head back and forth weakly. "Nothing will make this more bearable."

It made me ache, deep down in my soul, being unable to comfort her; knowing she now referred not to the pain in her body, but a different pain entirely.

Dr Whale came in to check on her then. Emma winced as he poked and prodded, gripping tightly to her mother's hand. Anger flared up within my chest; it should be my hand she was holding. Not Snow's, not even Ruby's. Mine.

"Alright, Emma," Whale announced. "You're ten centimeters. It's time to start pushing."

"What?" she gasped, wide-eyed and looking like a frightened deer. "No." She shook her head frantically. "I can't. I'm not ready yet."

"Well, this is Regina's baby you're having," he tried to joke, in poor taste, "so I don't think it much cares whether you're ready or not. It's coming. Now."

"No," Emma shook her head, clamping her legs shut as fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. "I'll hold it in."

"Emma, honey," Ruby said calmly, "you know that's not how this works."

"I can't have this baby right now!" Emma wailed.

The doctor stood, indicating for Snow to follow him with a nod of his head.

"If we can't convince her to start pushing soon, she's going to be at risk for serious complications," he explained to her quietly, though I could hear him well. "Her, and the baby. We'll have no choice but to perform an emergency C-section."

I felt helpless, just sitting here on the sidelines. There wasn't much else I could do, but I had to try. I walked up to the side of the bed that Snow had now vacated.

"Come on, baby," I pleaded her, reaching out to touch that beautiful golden hair, now tousled and dampened with sweat. "You can do this. I know you can do this."

She turned her head away, gazing up at Ruby with those sad green eyes.

"I hate her," she sniffled.

"Who, sweetie?" Ruby asked.

"Regina," Emma growled. "She did this to me, and I hate her for it."

Ruby just gave a sad smile. "You know that's not true, Emma."

I knew it wasn't true either. Women in labor say such things all the time about the fathers of their children, and right now – in our unique way – I guess I fit the part.

She was angry with me, as I'd suspected. She was angry with the world, and it wasn't hard to understand why. It was that anger that spoke those spiteful words. Still, I felt a pang in my chest when I heard them. It seemed so long since we had hated one another, like it had happened in another life entirely. All I could remember now was loving her.

"Edith?" I proposed.

"No," Emma shot it down.

"Mable?"

"No."

"Anges?"

"No," Emma laughed. "For Christ's sake, Regina. You're not having an 80 year old."

We saw one another almost every day now. The party line was that it was so I could be as involved in the pregnancy as possible. The truth, however, was that I'd come to enjoy having Emma around.

I had been alarmed, and somewhat perturbed, to discover that I actually missed her when she was elsewhere. Visits became more frequent, then began lasting longer. Soon, Emma was a regular fixture at my dinner table, along with Henry, and I'd even been invited to theirs – though dinner at the Charming's wasn't exactly something I desired to make a habit of.

It didn't seem to matter just how often she came or for how long. It was never enough, and every time she left I only wished that she could stay. I was no callow youth; I knew what was happening. I was falling for Emma Swan.

"Give me your hand," she gasped, placing my palm over her growing bump, covering it with her own and pressing down firmly. I worried we might be hurting the baby, but Emma had insisted time and again that it was "super protected in there."

"I still don't feel anything," I sighed, disappointed. She'd been feeling movement for over two weeks. It was still early, she assured me, but we were nearly 18 weeks along now, and I had yet to feel a thing.

"Just wait," she whispered, adjusting the position of our hands slightly, when her face suddenly lit up. "There! Did you feel that?"

"That little twitch?" I asked.

"Yep!" Emma grinned. "That was her!"

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Oh, it's a 'her' now, is it?" I smirked.

Emma shrugged. "This pregnancy feels different than Henry's. I knew he was going to be a boy, so I think this one is going to be a girl."

The way she spoke, it felt as though we were talking about our children. Not just our son — our children, plural. I couldn't help but to like the idea of it, couldn't help the sudden want for Emma to want this baby as her own. Our son. Our baby. Our family.

"Can we wait to see if it'll happen again?" I asked, wanting to feel the baby move, but also enjoying the proximity to Emma that waiting provided.

"Of course," she replied with a big goofy smile.

We sat silently, thighs pressed together, her hand over mine, shoulders touching. I was torn between willing the baby to move, and hoping it might just stay still a while longer, but then there was that twitch again.

"Was that her?" I asked excitedly, catching myself as I added, "Or him."

Emma just chuckled. "Sure was."

I smiled to myself, beginning to rub small circles over Emma's belly without thinking. When I realized what I was doing, it was because she was watching my movements, not only without objection, but with an almost wistful stare. I stilled my hand, but did not remove it.

"Emma, I need to know," I began, feeling a flutter of nerves when she looked up into my eyes. "Why would you do something like this for me?"

She seemed almost bashful as she looked away, back down to where my hand still rested over her abdomen.

"I just think you deserve to be happy," she said quietly.

"But what's in it for you?" I pressed. "What could you possibly gain from this?"

"I wanted..." she began, then stopped, floundering a moment before seeming to find her courage. "I want to be the person that makes you happy."

My heart began pounding, beating much harder than I was used to. Her words really only pointed to one possible meaning, but I didn't dare to believe it. Until she looked up at me once again, almost apologetic and definitely nervous. Then, I knew.

"Are you telling me that you offered to carry my child," I couldn't help the smirk that grew while I spoke, "in place of asking me out on a date?"

Emma let out a huff, shaking her head and stuttering, "It's ridiculous, I know. I just–"

I kissed her then, to stop her from talking, to thank her, to finally tell her I felt the same. She was so soft, from her lips to her skin, to the tiny noises that escaped from her throat. She was warm, her kiss made me feel like I was on fire, and it occurred to me how very long it had been since I'd been kissed like this. By someone I wanted. By someone who wanted me.

It wasn't too long before I found Emma straddling my lap, hands wandering and tongues blazing new trails across one another's skin. It seemed to me it had been inevitable that this would go beyond kissing. Now that I had her, I knew that I needed all of her. Emma seemed inclined to agree.

Peeling off her shirt, I could tell she felt a little self conscious of her changing body. Though, as my fingers trailed over the small swell of her stomach, I was nothing short of awestruck. That was my baby in there. This incredible woman was carrying my child.

I reached up to caress her cheek, delighting in the way her face lit up as I whispered, "You are so beautiful, Emma."

"Emma, you have to push now," Dr Whale tried again.

Emma just shook her head. The contractions were coming so close together she could barely catch her breath, but still she refused.

"I can't," she cried, "I can't do it!"

I knew she didn't just mean the labor. She meant all of it. The diapers, the tantrums, the fevers. Raising a pre-teen like Henry certainly had it's own set of obstacles, but it was nothing like starting from square one. She was just scared.

"You're strong, Emma," I willed her to understand. "Stronger than you've ever given yourself credit for. You can do this."

"Yes, you can," Ruby echoed my sentiment.

"I don't want–" Emma was openly sobbing now, barely able to form the words. "I don't want to do it alone."

"You won't be alone, Emma," Snow assured. "We're all here for you. All of us."

"It wasn't supposed to be like this," she continued to cry as if no one had spoken. "We were supposed to do it together. Regina is supposed to be here!"

I thought I could actually feel my heart break then.

"I am here, baby," I tried helplessly. She didn't hear me.

"I know, Emma," Snow said sympathetically, "and if loving you and wanting to be here was enough to make it so, Regina would be." The unexpected compassion in her words gripped my heart like a fist. "She would be here, to hold your hand, to cut the cord. I know she would, because she loved you very much. But you can't change that she's gone. What you can do? Is have this baby, and love it enough for the both of you."

Emma stared at her, eyes red and swollen from crying, but she finally nodded her consent. Never in my life had I felt so indebted to Snow White as I did then. Unconsciously, I raised a hand to my cheek, surprised to find her speech had caused tears to spill down upon it. Figures she would wait to say something like that until after I'd died.

I never saw the truck coming, not until just before it hit. It was time enough for me to realize that there was no way I would make it out of this alive, time enough for my life to flash before my eyes. I'd always assumed I would witness a series of events from throughout the years; my childhood, Daniel, life as the Queen, life as the mayor.

Instead, I only saw three things – Emma, Henry, and the baby. They were all that mattered to me now. They were my life. While I wasn't afraid to die, I felt a pang of regret, which quickly blossomed into sorrow at the knowledge that I must leave them behind.

All these thoughts raced through my mind in the instant prior to impact. Then there was only darkness.

Until I opened my eyes.

I didn't understand how that could be. Something didn't seem right. I certainly didn't feel as though I'd just been hit by a truck. I felt no pain as I climbed out of what was left of my car, the wreckage being the only way I knew for certain the accident had occurred at all.

There were paramedics, and so many people, all of them frantic over what had happened. Yet, they all moved by me as if I wasn't even there. Sure, I still wasn't the most well liked woman in this town, even if Emma's love had earned me some favor, but I would have thought at least one person might notice me under the circumstances.

That's when I heard Emma's voice.

"Regina!" she cried, and even as I turned to face her, I knew something was wrong. Her voice was panicked, dismayed. Not relieved, as though she had seen me standing here on the sidewalk, safe and sound.

She was crouched down on the ground next to something, or rather someone, and it took me a moment to recognize the body as my own. There were cuts and scrapes all over my arms, and a clearly traumatic injury to my head. I held up my hands in front of my face; not even a scratch. I really had died.

Emma lifted my head into her lap, trying to cradle me around her now hugely pregnant belly. Blood from the head wound seeped into her shirt, and instinctually I thought what a pain that stain was going be to get out before realizing I wouldn't be in charge of the laundry anymore.

"Wake up, Regina," she pleaded mournfully, running her fingers through my hair in a way that came naturally, as if we were still sitting at home on the couch.

"Emma, she's gone," Snow whispered, stepping up behind her daughter. "They said she died on impact. She wouldn't have felt any pain."

"No," Emma whimpered, not even noticing the blood on her fingers as she stroked my cheek. "She has to wake up."

Leaning down, she pressed her soft lips to my cold ones, kissing me harder still when nothing happened.

"Sweetie, she isn't cursed," her mother said woefully. "I'm so sorry, Emma, but not even True Love can bring her back this time."

"Regina," Emma ignored her, kissing my lips again, "Please wake up. Show them they're wrong. Come back to me."

"I want to, Emma," I kneeled down beside her, wishing she could just hear me. "I want to come back, I want to stay here, with you and our children. I want to, but I don't know how."

"Wake up!" she yelled, angrily now. "I'll never forgive you if you leave me!"

So, I tried. I tried to rejoin my body in any way I could think of. I touched it with my hands, focused on it with my mind, even laid down over it, as if we were puzzle pieces to be fitted back together. Nothing worked, though. It seemed the connection between body and soul had been severed completely.

"Ms Swan, we need to take the body away now," a paramedic finally informed her, trying his best not to upset her any further. When Emma didn't move, Snow placed a hand gently on her shoulder, as if to remind her to do so.

"Get away from me!" she screamed, shrugging off her mother's hand before turning back to the startled paramedic. "Don't you touch her!"

Undeterred, Snow bent down, wrapping her arms around her daughter. Emma fought her, screamed to be let go, but eventually surrendered, collapsing into the embrace as sobs wracked her body. She didn't look as they placed my body in a bag, zipped it up and carried it off. I found I didn't much care what they did with it now – it certainly wasn't of any use to me anymore.

I watched helplessly as Emma cried in her mother's arms, choking on the words she kept repeating, over and over.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye."

"Give me one more push, Emma," Dr Whale encouraged, "and you can finally say hello to your baby. One more big push."

Emma let out something like a low growl when the next contraction hit, unable even to scream anymore. Her mother and Ruby were bracing her legs, and there was no one to hold her hand. That should have been my job.

Then suddenly, it was over. Emma fell back on her pillow, and the entire room breathed a collective sigh of relief as the baby cried out.

"Here she is!" Whale proclaimed, quickly clearing the baby's nose and mouth.

"It's a girl," Ruby repeated excitedly.

"I already knew she was a girl," Emma smiled, panting tiredly.

Emma actually looked happy, for the first time in the weeks since I'd died, as they place the crying baby on her chest. Tears started rolling down her cheeks again, but she was smiling as she reached up to cradle our daughter.

"Hello my sweet girl," Emma said, "I'm your Mama. I'm sorry your Mom can't be here to meet you. She really wanted to be, I'd say more than just about anything. But we both love you, so very much."

Her words were both perfect and heart wrenching at once. Emma wouldn't let our baby forget me, even if she never would have any memories of me for herself. At the same time, I realized that I wanted nothing more than the chance to hold my daughter in my arms, to hug my son and to kiss their mother. Just once. Just one more time.

There were tears in Snow's eyes as well, running her fingers lovingly through her own daughter's hair in a way that made me most envious.

"She's beautiful, Emma," Snow praised.

"She is," Emma agreed. "She looks like Regina."

The nurse came to collect the baby then, promising she would be cleaned up and returned just as soon as they'd weighed and measured her.

"I'm going to go make some calls," Snow announced, chuckling when she added, "particularly to let your father know everyone's healthy, he's been a mess all day. Are you up to having him bring Henry by for a visit?"

"Of course," Emma smiled. "I want him to meet his baby sister."

Snow excused herself from the room, and Emma took a moment to rest as Dr Whale finished administering his postpartum medical care. She only required a couple of stitches, but was still instructed to take it easy for a while. Emma nodded, she'd been through this much before.

"Here we are, Mama," the nurse cooed at Emma, passing her a freshly wrapped bundle. "Everything looks perfect."

"Thank you," Emma whispered, barely aware of the world around her as she gazed down in awe at the infant in her arms. She really was a beautiful baby.

"Ruby, I wanted to ask you," Emma began, a little nervously, "and please, don't mention this to my mother, but I was hoping that you'd like to be her godmother."

Ruby looked stunned, and I was a bit surprised myself. We hadn't gotten to talk about this, but I would have assumed she'd ask Snow.

"Why not your mother?" Ruby asked, clearly wary of hurting her friend's feelings.

"Regina would never have gone for it, when she was alive," Emma explained. "Doing it now just wouldn't feel right, like I was going behind her back or something. Besides, Regina liked you."

She was right on both counts, though I was surprised she'd picked up on my fondness for Ms Lucas. Perhaps I shouldn't have been, Emma always could read me like a book, and she never did skip over the fine print.

"Seriously?" Ruby seemed skeptical, though I could hardly blame her.

"You weren't intimidated by her, and you think for yourself. She respected that," Emma's emotions were starting to get the best of her, and she swallowed hard around the lump in her throat. "Anyway, you want the title or not?"

"I would be honored," Ruby answered with an earnest grin. "Can I ask if my goddaughter has a name?"

Her name. My heart clenched again. Even I did not know her name. I had wanted Emma and I to pick one together, once it had been determined she would be as much a mother to this baby as I myself was meant to be. By the time of the accident, we had discussed a great many names, though we had yet to agree on a single one for either gender.

"Regina liked all these old fashion names, I always teased her about it," Emma began, smiling a little as she lost herself in the memory. "But she really liked the name Faye. I looked it up, after she... After the accident. It means 'fairy or elf', which is almost too perfect, in a town full of fairytale characters. It seemed like it was her favorite, though," finally she paused for a breath, looking up at Ruby with a worried frown. "Is that super cheesy?"

"No," Ruby replied, looking a little misty eyed herself now. "I think you're right. It's perfect."

Emma nodded, looking back down to the baby, our daughter, Faye. Yes, that was most certainly her name. I reached out to caress soft dark hair on her head, but I couldn't touch her. A single droplet of water landed on her chubby cheek, and as Emma gently wiped it away I realized she herself was crying again.

"I loved her so much, Ruby," she said, her voice thick.

"I know you did, Em," Ruby replied empathetically, "I also know she loved you just as much. I've known Regina a very, very long time, and she was never as happy as she was with you."

Emma nodded, chuckling almost bitterly. "I told her I wanted to be the one to make her happy. That was why I wanted to give her this baby, this family."

"You did give her that," Ruby assured, and she was not wrong. Emma had given me the family I'd always dreamed of, and she had made me very happy indeed. "You know, it's kind of poetic, in a way. First she adopted your son, then you adopted her daughter."

"Yeah," Emma snorted, "Except this little one won't run off to find Regina in ten years and bring her back to us."

A moment of silence stretched between them, Emma crying quietly to herself as Ruby gently rubbed her shoulder, offering the best comfort she could.

"It's not fair, you know?" Emma croaked. "We barely got any time to be 'us'. We were supposed to grow old together." She paused again, to collect herself. "I had envisioned us taking Faye to her first day of school, cheering at Henry's graduation, throwing her baby shower, dancing at his wedding. Regina won't be there for any of it. She's dead, Ruby. She's gone."

"She's not gone," Ruby insisted, shaking her head. "She'll live on in your memories, in your love for her, and most of all, in your love for that little bundle in your arms."

Again, Emma nodded, leaning down to place a kiss on the top of Faye's head.

Ruby excused herself to go look for Snow, who seemed to have been gone an awfully long time. Emma insisted she would be just fine on her own for a few minutes, and I could tell she was relieved by the prospect of having a moment to herself.

As soon as she was alone, the floodgates were opened. She openly wept for several minutes, clutching the baby to her chest as though she were afraid Faye might leave her as well. Being dead shouldn't hurt, but I found Emma's pain to be excruciating.

I wondered, briefly, if perhaps I was in hell. I had done horrible things in my life, so it wasn't out of the question. To be forced to stay here, to watch, unable to speak, unable to touch, unable to comfort the people I loved certainly seemed a hellish fate. Then again, were I truly condemned, I would not be gazing upon the face of the woman I loved. Perhaps I was just here to wait for her. It was a heartbreaking thing to do, to wait patiently; though I hoped, for the sake of our children, that our reunion wouldn't come too soon.

"I still love you, Regina," Emma whimpered into what she believed to be, though clearly hoped was not, an empty room. "I always will. And I promise, I'm going to take really good care of our kids. I really hope that you get to be happy, wherever you are."

"I am happy, Emma. Thanks to you," I leaned down to whisper in her ear, knowing she wouldn't hear me, but hoping perhaps something inside her still could. "Even though the end itself came too soon, you truly were my happy ending."