A/N: Here is the last part. It's my favorite of the three, so I hope you enjoy it! As usual, I will beg you for reviews, and to those few that actually do leave them, know that it is unimaginably appreciated. :)

I reminded myself that today had been good. Henry was found, he was here, and he was safe. I tried to hold on to that light, to let it chase away these shadows that were closing in. I strained to listen, trying to make out his tiny little breaths in the dark. He was right here, I told myself. In the bunk just above his grandparents, right next to his mother.

His family, I thought, trying to feel bitter, but finding it only made me feel alone. He loved me, but he didn't need me anymore. He had them. He had her.

She wouldn't be coming tonight. I'd realized that almost sooner than I cared to admit upon finding our son. Nothing could lessen the joy of cradling him safely in my arms again, though the black spot on my day remained. There was no need for her to seek my embrace, no comfort that I could offer her now. I couldn't escape the way it pained me — she didn't need me anymore, either.

The blackness and solitude began to mingle, rolling together like a snowball that weighed heavier and heavier upon my chest until I couldn't breathe. I was floating in emptiness, fading away. I began to panic, thinking tonight was the night this hollow darkness would finally claim me.

So consumed with this impending doom was I, that I nearly jumped out of my skin when a gentle hand was placed upon my back.

"Shhh," she soothed, lying down beside me, smoothing dampened hair back from my face. "Are you okay?"

The panic dissipated as she grounded me again. I wasn't alone, I wasn't fading. Thanks to her. I carefully considered my answer, kissing her soundly before finally replying, "Yes." As long as she was there, I would be okay.

In that moment, I realized the truth of what was happening, what had been happening for some time. I was falling in love with her.

It had happened so slowly. Blindly, in the dead of night, where I never saw her, only felt. Wasn't that what mattered, though? One would tell the object of their affection that they have feelings for them, not sight. Love at first sight is merely lust in disguise. Real love, true love, comes later. It happens in the dark, in the absence of sight. I was falling in love with an invisible girl, but to me she had never been more beautiful.

She didn't try to fool around, but snuggled down beside me, making herself comfortable, settling in. It was only then that I realized she intended to stay.

"Why are you here?" I asked, because I couldn't just leave it alone.

"It's too lonely up there," she replied. It was a simple answer; though I couldn't help the way it made me smile.

"I know the feeling," I whispered back.

The relief I felt at finding her still in my arms tonight could not be ignored. It made me want to burst into tears, but I certainly couldn't do that. So, instead, I kissed her again; something that had become so familiar to us now, yet for me held no less of a thrill than the first time.

I was in love with the gentle care in her kisses, the tenderness of her touch, the strength of her embrace. I was in love with the way she was always there when I needed her, and the way she saved me, again and again. I was in love with the way that she wanted me, the way she didn't push me, the way she'd stop when I said 'no'. Always offering, never demanding, never taking.

Her hand squeezed the back of my thigh as things escalated, like they always did, and I could sense both her desire and her restraint. There was no reason to fight it anymore; I was already in as deep as it goes. If she wanted me, she could have me. Whether for tonight or forever, I'd give her whatever she wanted.

I grabbed her wrist, much the way I had done to stop her that night, only this time I wasn't pushing her away. Tentatively, nervously, hoping this was indeed what she wanted, I guided her hand between my legs, gently pressing it to me. She gasped.

"Are you sure?" she asked, concerned, but unmistakably hopeful. I nodded against her lips.

"I need you," I whispered, already fingering the edge of her panties in my own silent request.

She obliged enthusiastically, her kisses now aimed to devour. I pushed her shirt up over her chest, knowing it was too risky to remove it completely, but wanting to feel as much of her skin against my own as I possibly could. She kneaded me gently over the thin material of my undergarments, hand quickly sneaking below the waistband, as if she couldn't possibly wait another moment to do so. Equally eager, I immediately followed suit.

We made love slowly, as quietly as we could, turning our heads to whimper into the pillow when it simply couldn't be swallowed down. Her fingers drove into me, stroked me, caressed me. Her lips toyed with my lips, she licked my neck, even nipped my shoulder in a way that I was sure would leave the first lasting evidence of these nightly meetings.

I worked my fingers harder, wanting to feel her release again before being consumed by my own. She seemed to have the same idea — it would always have to be a bit of a competition between us. She won, in the end. It just felt too good. She didn't win by much, though.

We lay panting in the dark, until again she sighed her contentment and relaxed against me. I wished that for once I could look into her eyes, if only so she could see the way I felt about her shining back through my own. I was madly in love with her, and I thought maybe, just maybe, one day I might even tell her.

Little did I know in that moment what the next day would bring.

It was the reason I should have listened to myself in the first place. The reason I never should have let her touch me. The reason I should have just let the darkness eat me alive instead of trying to hang on for so long.

The reason she was never mine.

Oh, they were so happy to have him back. Neal, Baelfire, whatever you wanted to call him. They had everything they needed now, like a holy little trinity. Mother, father, and son. Where did a woman who raised the child in their absence fit into that equation? A woman who loved the mother secretly in the dark? It was the final nail in my coffin, of that I was sure.

I once again found myself alone in the pitch-black night, contemplating my lonely fate. In another life, I would have ripped his heart out for taking them from me. I would have crushed it to dust, watched the last breath drain out of him. In this life, though, I would suffer silently for their happiness. Hot tears streamed down my cheeks. Tonight, when the darkness came for me, I told myself would not fight it.

The mattress dipped, as it had countless times before, and I could only assume she was here to say goodbye. Or perhaps something even less poetic still — to tell me it never happened, never to speak of it again. Her hand reached out to cup my jaw, as it always did, only this time to be met by salty wetness.

"Why are you crying?" she asked, trying to wipe the moisture away. I jerked my head out of her reach.

"It is no concern of yours," I hissed coldly, hoping my voice didn't tremble too much. "Just go. Go to your love, and leave me alone."

She paused for a beat; I guess I'd surprised her. Then her hand was back on my cheek, pulling me to her, and in an instant she was kissing me, hard and thoroughly. I was angry and hurt and right now I hated her, but I loved her too much to stop it. I was powerless, I was weak with love.

She pulled back, but still she held my face in her hands, much in the same way that she held my heart. Her thumb stroked my cheek, and I wrapped my fingers around her wrist, uncertain if I wanted to push her away or pull her closer.

"What do you want from me?" I beseeched her, to put me out of my misery.

"I wasn't sure what I was feeling until I saw him again," she explained, and I was sure her next words would cause my heart to shatter, "I thought that he was what I wanted, but when he hugged me? All I could think about was falling asleep in your arms. That's what I want, Regina."

Butterflies exploded in my gut, but I hardly dared to believe what I'd just heard.

"You're choosing me?" I asked, in the smallest voice I'd ever heard coming from my throat. I felt her lean in close again, a halted breath hitting my lips, and it was only then that I noticed she was shaking.

"I'm in love with you," she sighed, and it was both a confession and a plea. My heart leapt into my throat, and I swallowed hard so it wouldn't escape. I thought it couldn't possibly be true, but then I remembered, once again, that she never did leave me when she had the choice. I loved her, and she loved me. I would have to learn to trust in that.

"I love you, too," I replied, grinning secretly at her trembling sigh of relief.

We kissed, and cried, and laughed quietly at ourselves for crying. Eventually we fell asleep, just as we'd always done, tangled together like old trees.

When I woke the next day, I knew everything was different now. Soon, someone else would wake, they would see, and they would know. I wasn't sure what would happen next, but I decided it didn't really matter — because that morning, for the first time, Emma Swan was still in my arms.