She spoke softly to me as she lay in bed, of nothing important, until I fell asleep in the chair beside her. In the morning, she kissed me awake. We were both served breakfast and ate it in her room, talking and sharing stories of our past. Mine were fairly superficial, but she saw through them. I knew she was waiting for more, but all the important moments pained me, so I refrained from bringing them up. She, on the other hand, shared anything that came to mind - even sad stories of of her childhood, like being raised in foster care. I was filled with pity, which she sensed and scolded me for.

"Don't feel bad for me," she instructed.

I couldn't help it. My own guilt overwhelmed me, and thinking of her growing up in such a situation pained me. She'd experienced so much pain she didn't deserve. Why had I tortured her so? After an hour or so, the conversation trickled to a stop. After a period of silence where we simply looked at each other, imagining what the other was thinking, she spoke again.

"Regina," she said softly. "Let me see my son."

My stomach clenched. Henry. How could I tell him what I'd done? I would lose his love forever. But Emma had done nothing wrong, and he was her child. I couldn't keep him from her, but telling him would be too difficult.

"I can't," I protested. "I can't tell him what I've done."

"Then don't," she said. "Just tell him I'm here and that I love him very much, and I only went away because I had to."

I was shocked at this. She wanted me to lie? I thought it through. She was probably right. Although I knew that all he wanted from me was goodness and honesty, I couldn't stand to hurt him. It hurt to think how thrilled he would be to see her. I would be forgotten in his rush of emotion. He'd always loved her more, and it was only when they were separated that he began to show his love for me. With them reunited, I was sure to lose any affection he had for me. But I could not deny her. The tragic look in her eyes forced me to obey.

"Alright," I conceded.

When I brought her to Henry's room, my heart was racing at the thought of losing my son, but Emma's affection for me kept me strong. I knocked on the door, louder than I'd intended, my hands shaking with nervousness.

"Henry," I called out. "I need you to come out."

He appeared in the doorway, clutching his book. When he laid eyes on his mother, he dropped it to the floor.

"Emma!" he screamed, throwing his arms around her waist.

She knelt down to meet him, her arms wrapping him in a tight embrace. I stood beside them, forgotten. I watched as they held each other and they both started crying. What could I do? But a blessing befell me. Henry, for once, asked no questions - of me or his mother. He had simply decided to accept the reality that she had returned to him, and refused to question why she'd left or why she'd returned. When they finally separated, Henry looked up at me.

"Mom! I knew she loved me!"

I nodded. What else could I do? He wrapped his arms around me, and I stared down at him in disbelief. He hadn't turned away from me or blamed me at all, and he hadn't forgotten his love for me. My boy was still mine, and now I had both a son and a companion. My heart swelled as Emma took my hand, watching me hold Henry with my free arm, my cheek pressed against his forehead. At dinner, Henry began to ask the uncomfortable questions.

"Are you to together?" he said, looking back and forth between us.

I looked to her for the answer and saw her nod. My cheeks turned red as I looked down at the plate in front of me. How would he receive that? Would he understand? It seemed that he did, because he was smiling.

"I love you guys," he said, beaming.

"We love you too, Henry," I told him.

Emma just smiled.

Over the next few days, we spent immense amounts of time together, Emma reading him stories from his book with me beside her, listening. I loved her voice, the way it sounded, the way it rang in my ears. It sent shivers down my spine. Each night, I fell asleep at her bedside, until she finally asked for what she'd been wanting the whole time.

"Come to bed with me," she pleaded softly. "Don't sleep in the chair."

It wasn't that I tried to fall asleep in the chair beside her each night; it was simply that I couldn't help myself. We talked for long hours into the night, until neither of us could keep our eyes open, until I was too tired to walk to my bedchamber. As I considered her proposition - I'd thought about it before - my blood grew warm and it circulated and pumped through my heart. I thought of her body pressed against me, the bare skin of her shoulders touching mine. My first instinct was to resist her effort at closeness, but I chose to fight the urge. Instead, I quietly removed my dress, suddenly embarrassed, and slipped into the bed beside her. She instantly scooted closer to me and took my hand.

"It's okay," she promised. "I don't bite hard."

She'd become good at making me smile - an impossible skill - to the point where I couldn't resist her charm. In bed with her at last, I realized that she was my match in every way.

And that's the end. I hope you all enjoyed it. :) Thanks for reading and reviewing!