AN: Ok, so just a little follow up. It's not much, but I figured why not, and here we are.

Regina winced as her neck cracked before burrowing further into her son's sweet-smelling hair. Sometime around nightmare number three, she had simply crawled into his bed, wrapping herself around the small boy, trying to stem the shakes. His fingers gripped the edges of her pajamas, wrinkling the silk. For the first time in years, his thumb had drifted toward his lips, and, when she denied him, he had latched onto her collarbone instead. Her first hickey in forty years, and it came from her son. The morning light filtered through the window, chasing of the last dredges of sleep that her full bladder had not.

She inched herself away, tucking him firmly into the warm spot she left behind, waving her hand and tucking the new stuffed bear in beside him. She shuffled away, her fingers tangled in her hair. She cringed as she hit another knot; even on the best morning her bedhead could scare the hair off a cat. She opened the door slowly, took one more look behind her, and turned. She stopped. There, sitting on the floor, directly across from the door, was Emma Swan. Her eyes were bloodshot, rimmed and swollen, bruised. Her head tiled back against the wall and her fingers tapped out a nonsense language against the barrel of her gun.

Regina barely managed to suppress the urge to whip up another teddy bear and bundle the woman up away from all the evils of the world. But then she'd have to bundle that wonderfully horrible woman away from herself, and, even after everything, she was too selfish for that. She simply raised her hand, waiving off any attempt to talk, and headed off toward the bathroom. The lock clicked and the light caught every line, every wrinkle. She looked worse than the whelp on her floor. She was too tired and far too sober for any of this.

Half a dozen steps and another wave of her fingers meant she acquired a new shadow. She managed to hold onto eight minutes and fifty six seconds of glorious silence. Steel slid against leather at fifty-seven seconds. And then Emma was on the floor again. Two cups of coffee in hand, Regina joined her. Regina dug her fingers into the china, letting the hot porcelain scald her fingertips. In that one moment, it would be so easy, so utterly simple to lean over and rest her head on the shoulder so very near. For just a moment she could rest, just a moment. She leaned toward the doorjamb instead.

"I didn't even see him." Her voice was coarse, choppy. It rumbled with congestion. "I heard him cry, and then he was gone, and I never even got to see him. Maybe that made it easier, I don't know. But, I always wondered what he looked like." Her head lulled to the side, staring blankly into lost opportunities. "And then," she clipped off a laugh, "then he was there, and he was . . . beautiful. And it was like I had a whole 'nother chance. For once in my godforsaken life, I had a chance, and you tried to take that from me. So yes, I indulged him in spite of you, and I didn't care what you wanted, what it did. I took, like always. But I can't give the last six months back. What's worse, I'm not sure I would if I could. I finally have my forever family." Emma reached out, her hand shaking and twisted her fingers around a stray lock, and Regina could not prevent herself from leaning into the offered warmth again. She hated herself just a little. She hated Emma Swan a little less.

Emma withdrew her hand, using it to push off the floor. She shuffled along, stopping just beside the front door. Regina watched as the blonde seemed to sink into the wood her forehead rested against. But she didn't stand.

"Maybe I wouldn't give it back, but at least I can stop taking. And I won't let anyone else, either." Emma opened the door and crossed the threshold before turning. Regina stared up at her from the floor and simply watched, coffee ice cold, much like the rest of her. "I love you too." And the door closed. Regina sighed, gathered herself up, and dragged herself back to Henry's bed. She would not forgive the blonde menace. She would not.