AN: Thank you so much to my beta, Aaisha, who handled my procrastination like a pro, and to ExquisitelilTart for pairing me up with her and helping me with so many other pre-Bang problems I had. Thank you to Tiff, my busy but wonderfully positive cheerleader. Thank you to my artist, kjdawson80, for not only requesting my fic but also for waiting out for the last half of the fic to be finished as the deadline closed in on us to get this done. And a big thank you to Tiff and Lola for putting on this fantastic event. I'm glad I was able to finally be a part of a Big Bang and it's extra special to me knowing that it'll be the last they host. Thank you so, so much for all you've done in the past for SQBB and all that you've continued to do throughout this final Bang.

Hades is a flaming homosexual. Literally. His hair is actual fire that changes from blue to red, depending on his mood, and he flirts with every guy that walks into his extremely nice, but almost wildly eccentric, establishment.

Hellis a gay bar and every night is acceptance night. But tonight is also Ladies Night, which works well for Regina since she's currently stuck there without her son and the person for whom she'd sacrificed herself. She didn't expect it. Any of it. The sacrifice she'd made, her easy willingness to make the sacrifice at all, and where she ended up when it was all over. Although it's not as if anything in her life has ever been what she'd expected. She really shouldn't be surprised her arrival in Hell isn't any different.

She sits on a well-cushioned bar stool, her forearms pressed into the edge of the counter in front of her, and nurses her first drink of the night. She swishes the whiskey around in her glass in slow, circular motions as her hand hovers over the countertop. It's a mindless action, one she's not conscious of doing, and her eyes stare blankly ahead at the wall of liquor behind the bar. There are several brands of every kind of liquor, some brands stronger than others, and she starts to consider which will get her drunker quicker. She's not in the mood to be sober now despite the warm welcome from Hades who had taken her chin between his index finger and thumb, tilted her head up to look him in the eyes, and voiced his apologies for all she'd lost. He seems to be able to stare into anyone's eyes and just know what brought them to his bar, a bar that existed in its own realm. Because Hell may have been a gay bar, but it's also where lost and damned souls find themselves either post-mortem or in the transition between life and death.

That's how Hades had explained it to her when he led her inside and showed her around the place. He's proud of what he's made of Hell. He's less proud about how it's perceived in other worlds, but, as he'd told her, he supposes it might be better that way. The less people know about what Hell is truly like helps keep out those that hate with conviction and never change. Regina's inclined to agree with him.

At the long stretch of counter space, Regina looks down the bar to her left and then her right. She's not alone at the bar, but she's the only one within the span of ten stools in either direction sitting down and her thoughts consumed by grief. She's not in the partying mood and there are a few others that seem to feel the same way, but those that are wallowing are few and far between. Quite literally. Instead of staring longingly into her half-empty glass of whiskey, Regina turns and takes in her surroundings again. She'd looked around when she'd first come inside, but she'd been so overwhelmed with everything that had happened—still was, honestly—that she hadn't really absorbed everything Hell has to offer.

There's a karaoke stage set up in one section of the large bar, but it's not karaoke night so it's not being used. The karaoke machine sits without power on the front of one stage and all the sound equipment is on another that has a DJ booth. Currently, there's a mix of the greatest hits from previous decades, everything from the '70s to the early 2000s, booming through the speakers right now and several dozen people are out on the dance floor. When Stayin' Alive plays, there's a line of six guys doing their best John Travolta impression and one woman that's amusingly wearing tight, white jeans that give her a bit of an advantage. Her hips sway way better than Travolta could have ever hoped to achieve and she's having a blast. She's a phenomenal dancer, but she's not out there to show off. She raises her drink in the air as she does what Regina refers to as the typical "disco-gesture" and brings her hand from above her right shoulder down to beside her left thigh. When she lifts her hand again, another woman steps up to her and the John Travolta dance is abandoned for rhythmic grinding. The woman who'd been reenacting Saturday Night Fever then lowered her arm and rested it over the shoulder of the woman who'd came out to join her on the floor.

Regina watches the woman as she rolls her hips into her new dance partner a few times before female Travolta curls her arm around the back of the other woman's neck and holds her close. Their bodies melt together and their movements become synchronized. It's all very intimate, but it's also a connection Regina wishes she could feel, and not just in this place. She hasn't felt connected like the two women on the dance floor appear to have in a while. Even when she was with Robin, everything had always been a little disjointed between them. They were always on and off, and it wasn't as if everything was smooth when they were on. Not like the movements between those two women, which were impressively fluid.

Both women look absolutely at peace and neither one has to think about their next move. They simply move together. There's no talk, no questions, no miscommunication, no drama or imminent and inevitable threat. They're happy. Regina doesn't know them, doesn't know either of their pasts or the women's history together, but she knows they're happy. She can see it in their eyes as they smile at each other and occasionally laugh at something only they understand. She wants that. She's only ever wanted that.

Now she's in a place that's supposed to allow her to be happy, to be worry-free as long as she's there, but she can't be happy. She doesn't have Henry. It's like she's created Storybrooke all over again, thinking she'll be the only one with a happy ending and then being the only one without. She also wanted to be free once upon a time. At least she finally has that freedom. In Hell, no one knows about a person's past unless stories are shared straight from the source. So no one knows her as the Evil Queen, no one sees her as the Evil Queen. No one even knows her, knows just Regina. Not here anyway. The only people that know and see Regina are still in Storybrooke. That's only half of Regina's troubles. So she'll drink them away to the best of her abilities and hope that with time all her memories will fade. She'd rather forget her life in Storybrooke if she's going to be alone in Hell forever.

After her third drink of the night, her head is a little fuzzy and she's a little less pouty as she watches others "get into the groove." She's about to "get up on her feet" because she's a bit of Madonna fan herself, and by "fan" she means she also has a crush on the woman, but as she slides off the stool she's unsteady and almost falls on her side. She avoids a nasty, and what probably would have been a painful, bruise on her hip when slender fingers and a firm grip catch her by the arm.

She's breathless, not only from her near collapse, but by the sudden rush of hope that floods through her like the blood that pumps wild and fast through her veins. The slender but firm feeling of the other person's grip reminds her of Emma and she thinks that's exactly who will be at her side when she looks up. But her eyes don't lock onto a familiar green gaze.

Instead, eyes almost as black as coal stare back at her.

"Hades," she greets with a gravelly voice. "Don't you have a bar to run? Why are you here?"

He chuckled. "I make sure all new-comers adjust to this place before I leave them to discover its wonders completely unbothered. Plus, it looked like you could use some help."

"Are you clairvoyant now," she asks as she yanks her arm out of his grasp. "You foresaw my fall and came over here to prevent it?"

"Relax, Regina. There's no need to be bitter, but I understand healing is a process. That's what I'm here to help with, Doll."

"I don't want to heal. I don't want to be here."

"Why not? There are no responsibilities or pressure or hate. Here you can enjoy yourself and feel free to just be."

"Well, the first problem is that I'm in a gay bar."

"You're just now noticing that?"

Regina rolls her eyes. "I'm not gay."

"Then you wouldn't be here."

"In Hell?"

"In this part of Hell."

"You mean there's more than a gay bar here?"

"Hell is very inclusive. People not in heaven need a place to go, don't they? I just don't like mixed company."

"Mixed company," she dryly says with a raised eyebrow. It's not a question, but she does want an explanation.

Hades grins like he's about to share juicy gossip with her and elaborates, "Honey, I can't tell you how many times my mother would warn me to watch what I reveal in 'mixed company.' Not sure all gay kids hear that from their open-minded, well-meaning parents, but there were people in my family and people in my family's circle that wouldn't want to hear about my…preferences.

"I keep people like that, the people that don't accept the LBGT plus community, out of the bar. Ever heard of the phrase 'there's a special place in Hell for people like you'?"

Regina nods.

"That's probably the only thing about this realm that the other worlds got right. Now, there's also other places for people who are straight but don't discriminate."

"Is that the slogan for whatever section of this realm they're in," Regina jokes, but she's not all that amused. Even tipsy she's still in no mood for conversation, but she was in the mood for Madonna. Unfortunately, the song ended around the time Hades had mentioned how Hell is inclusive.

Hades laughs again and wraps an arm around her shoulders. He drags her away from the dance floor and into another area of the bar she hasn't seen until now. She frowns as she looks at the purple door ahead of them.

He turns his head and notices her quizzical expression almost immediately. He smiles and answers her unasked question, "Purple is the color worn on spirit day in your world. A lot of the folks here like that concept so I incorporated it in the design."

"And the door? Where does it lead?"

"Room and board," Hades answers and guides her closer to the door. "People need a place to live while they're here, even if it's only temporary."

"You're taking me to my new home," she surmises. "Is this your way of telling me I'm cut off?"

"It's my way of giving you the rest of the tour."

"Mm. A tour of a part of Hell in which I don't even belong," she grumbles. "How thoughtful."

Hades sighs and steps in front of her. He turns his back on the purple door and puts his hands on Regina's shoulders as he speaks with a hint of amusement, but looks at her seriously. "Even if you hadn't had that fling with your old pal Maleficent, let me remind you why you're here. You gave your life for Emma Swan."

Regina staggers back a few steps and emits a squawking noise, her vocal chords strained as most of her body tenses with the realization that maybe one person in Hell does know her past as well as her present.

"Hey, just like my brother has to know who he's letting into his dumb afterlife realm in the freaking clouds, I need to know who I'm welcoming into my home," he explains as though he understands the look on her face.

Regina deflates when she finally exhales. Her shoulders sag and she slumps forward a bit. Hades' hands on her shoulders are the only things to keep her from tipping over and falling onto her face.

"Now," Hades adds, "I'm not saying dying for a girl is gay or that having an extensive sexual relationship with another woman makes you gay, but you aren't one hundred percent straight by any standards either. And you probably know that by now. If you ask me, you've always had better chemistry with women anyway. At least after Daniel."

She looks away at the mention of her long gone fiancé.

"But you don't want to think about the heavy stuff," he continues. "You're here now. How you got here isn't exactly irrelevant, but you're here. This is the part of your existence you can finally enjoy, burden and abuse free."

He moves to stand beside her and then ushers her the rest of the way to the door. When he pushes it open, all she sees is a stairwell. The walls aren't very lively so the lighting is a little dim. There are two elevators off to her right and straight ahead, past the stairs is another door. It's also purple, so at least the doors that don't match the rest of the bar do match each other.

"Where does that door go," Regina asks.

"You don't want to be cooped up in a bar and your room all day, do ya? That door leads outside. There're a few flowerbeds and a small waterfall. It's beautiful. Who says Hell is a fiery pit or some dank, cavernous hole in the ground?"

"Most people," Regina casually answers the rhetorical question, but Hades just barrels on.

"This is as much your home as it is mine. Same as it is for everyone else here. I want it to be as warm and welcoming as possible. That's how life should be. That's how everyone in every world should be."

There's a brief pause between them before Hades says "come on" and leads her up the stairs. He says she'll want to take the elevator from now on, but that he's showing her around so they'll take the stairs to give her a better look at her new surroundings.

She sees that each floor has the same hallway color. It's a dark blue. Every door is black and has silver lettering above the peephole. The halls are long in every direction and they seem endless, but there are more floors, so they must end somewhere. Nowhere near the stairway, however.

When they get to the fifth floor, Hades pulls away from the landing and ventures into the hallway. Apparently it's her floor. She follows him and strides through the hallway just a few steps behind him. They pass eleven doors and arrive at room 513. This room is her new beginning. This is how she's supposed to start all over. Again. This is where she's supposed to relax and find happiness. But happiness is elusive to her and she's alone. She's used to being alone, but she finds no comfort in it. Not when she's spent so much time fighting against the cruel world of the Enchanted Forest and the monotony of Storybrooke before she adopted Henry.

And then there's Emma.

Hades flicks his wrist and blue smoke flourishes around his hand. When it clears, he's moving his hand toward the door with a key clasped between his fingers. There's a plain white, circular marker with the room number attached to the keyring, and in one fluid twist of his wrist he unlocks her room.

"Regina Mills," he starts to announce as he pushes the door open and motions inside. He stays rooted in place against the right side of the doorframe in the hallway and

As she lays on her back on the bed and stares up at the ceiling, she thinks about how she got here. She thinks about how far she's come since the days of young love and wild youth—because Hades just had to bring up Daniel—and knows, remembers, what it felt like to be with him compared to all she's given up for Emma.

Past Dark Ones infiltrated the town on a crusade to destroy their most powerful threat: Emma. It was a war waged by a bitter, half-dead ex-boyfriend that Emma had used all her dark magic to save and gave in to the curse completely as a result. It had been another sacrifice, but the difference the second time around was that Hook hadn't appreciated it the way Regina had.

It was a lonely, angry pirate that vowed to hurt Emma as much as she hurt him, which wasn't at all healthy and something he probably would have done even if he wasn't also one of the many Dark Ones among them. He was ungrateful and unkind, and Regina, for all her grudges and pain and anger, never once would have used Emma's sacrifice against her.

But maybe Hook was used to bold actions like what had been done for him, or maybe he didn't care what price she paid simply because he was in pain and his pain mattered more. Regina didn't need to know why he decided to turn against someone that had given her heart to such an unworthy suitor. She just needed to know that Hook was all but physically gone from the world and on a rampage with a horde of Dark Ones out to kill Emma.

She summoned all the magic she had and made her own vow: to protect Emma at any cost.

Her bed is plush, the thread count feels luxurious as she settles in for the night, and the pillow is just the right amount of firm, but the sheets are cold. She's alone in a bed far from home and the thought that Henry isn't down the hall makes her heart ache. She knows he's safe, and that by protecting Emma she had protected him as well, but it doesn't hurt any less that she's away from them.

She tries, tries, fails to avoid thoughts of all the things she'll miss now that she's gone. All the birthdays and the inches he'll grow until he surpasses both her height and Emma's. She sees his smile every time she closes her eyes, and it's big and wide and when he's standing next to Emma while she drapes an arm over his shoulders with a smile of her own, and she sees the undeniable resemblance.

Mourning isn't just for the living, she realizes as tears bubble up and out before they stain her cheeks. She mourns the loss of those that live on without her, mourns the loss of her family and wishes it hadn't turned out this way. She would do it all over again, though. She just wishes there had been another way.

And then she remembers the first time in this drawn out tragedy that she'd wished the same thing at another point in time as well.

"There has to be another way."

"There isn't."

And later, "I didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice, Em-ma. You've told me that a thousand times."

But after all of that, she's still gone. She's still in another realm among the departed and trapped. She remembers what brought her there, everything that led up to her inevitable and long time coming damnation, but she's still fuzzy on whether she's gone for good or stuck between living and not. Hades isn't very forthcoming either and he speaks almost cryptically at times, like he's giving her the tools to process everything for herself even though she's not sure there's anything to process other than her journey to Hell.

Her room is dark, and while there's a window with thin, white curtains nearby, fake moonlight doesn't do much to liven up the place. There's nothing lively about Hell, at least not for her. The light of her life is in Storybrooke with his other mother, who Regina has to admit is a small part of that light. After all, if it wasn't for Emma, she wouldn't have Henry in the first place. She also wouldn't have been given yet another chance to redeem herself. And then she would have either been imprisoned or dead much sooner and for less than admirable actions.

She slides under the duvet and sighs after her head hits the pillow. She pulls the sheets up to her chest and curls her fingers into the puffy fabric. She clutches at the duvet like a child with a teddy bear and stares at the ceiling as she forces herself to keep her eyes open, too sad to see a future of what-ifs play out in her mind as she sleeps.

But eventually she quietly cries herself to sleep, and the what-ifs fade in as a flow of dreams like a beautifully tempting and heart-wrenching romantic comedy.

Henry's at the table working on a homework assignment that he assures her isn't due for another few days while breakfast is being prepared in the kitchen. She's dressed for work, back to her usual mayoral attire, except her clothes are less stiff and authoritative and a little more business casual. Her makeup isn't completely applied yet, her eyes finished but her lips untouched, and she heads into the other room to check on the food.

Through the swinging door that leads from the dining room into the kitchen, she finds Emma at the stove in a loose fitting shirt and a short pair of shorts that the hem of the shirt just barely surpasses in length. Her golden blonde hair isn't brushed and a few strands frizz up while the rest of it cascades down her back in loose waves.

Regina is breathless, even as she smiles at the sight before her, the light shining through the single window in the kitchen and illuminating that long and silky hair she loves to run her fingers through every chance she gets. She smiles even brighter when Emma turns her head and catches her gaze. Emma smiles back at her and she feels her heart beat faster, her entire body several degrees warmer.

"Hey," Emma greets her. "I'm making your favorite. Strawberry pancakes. I pulled out the chocolate syrup for Henry. The kid likes fruit, but you know he has an obsessive love of chocolate."

"Indeed I do," she agrees, her smile ever present and she doesn't stop herself from crossing the room and wrapping her arms around the blonde.

Emma bites her lower lip and giggles as Regina skates her fingers across the younger woman's stomach. Her fingertips are dangerously close to the waistband of Emma's shorts over the shirt and it clearly sends shivers down the blonde's spine as she fidgets in Regina's embrace.

"That tickles," Emma confesses and Regina chuckles before pressing her lips to that gorgeous blonde hair as she kisses Emma's neck.

Emma turns her head again and her smile lessens as the glimmer in her eyes changes from happy to an intense expression of either desire or love, maybe even both. She leans in and Regina closes her eyes as she moves forward to close the small gap between them.

There's a faint brush of lips and then—

White light flashes and blocks out the rest of the tender moment before it transitions into another vision of a possible happily ever after.

Henry's on the soccer team and the chilly weather of the season has her bundled up in several layers in a foldable chair on the sidelines. The bleachers are too cold and hard and Regina refuses to sit on them through an entire game, so she always brings her own chair, which she hadn't actually thought to get even though she complained about it after the first game Henry played.

At one of the previous games, she was about to take a spot on the bleachers when Emma had showed up with two foldable chairs for each of them. She set them both up and pulled Regina away from the bleachers before she motioned to the dark blue chair and said, "Your throne, your Majesty."

Now, as she sits in her chair with a winter coat and scarf, she's alone for the first ten minutes of Henry's game before Emma shows up with an apology, her own red chair and a large thermos.

"Brought some hot chocolate," she says as she sets the thermos down in one of the cup holders in Regina's chair before she takes out her own chair. Once it's unfolded, she takes a seat and grabs the thermos seconds before she unscrews the cap and pours a serving into it. She hands it over and says, "I didn't put any cinnamon in because I know you prefer your cocoa without it."

Regina smiles at her and accepts the cap filled to the top with steaming cocoa. "Thank you."

Emma's consideration for her likes and dislikes, and intolerance to cheese, is such a small thing, but it has a big impact. Regina's never been cared for the way Emma makes sure everything is okay. The woman strives for perfection and kicks herself when she gets even the tiniest thing wrong, which Regina responds to with a smile and comforting touch as she assures the blonde she's happy with the outcome.

She takes a sip from the cup while Emma drinks straight from the thermos and the two of them sit in companionable silence, side by side from where they watch their son run around on the field. The only time they break the silence is when they cheer Henry on or yell at the referee for a bad call. And they're together through all of it. They're together as they shout from the sidelines and they're together when Henry rushes up to them and gives them both a hug to celebrate his win. They're together after the game when they offer to take the team out for dinner at the pizza parlor down the block and they're together when Henry does his victory dance with his friends.

They stand next to each other at one end of the long tables reserved for large parties, like theirs, and watch as a girl approaches Henry. Regina grabs Emma's arm and squeezes, even digs her nails in, as they stare at the two teens while they talk. Both have wide smiles and slight blushes on their faces and then Henry turns a bright red when the girl surprises him with a chaste but not an entirely quick kiss. She darts off with an even bigger smile and Henry slowly turns back to the team with a blissful but shell-shocked expression.

"My little prince," she breathes out and leans into Emma's side like she might just collapse if the woman wasn't there to hold her up.

Henry's focus shifts from the team to them and he grins before he gives them a thumbs up and is then swarmed by his friends as they start to talk and laugh and go about entertaining themselves.

Regina doesn't hear any of it and she barely notices Emma dragging her toward the arcade at the back of the restaurant until two children nearly run into her as they chase each other back into the dining area. She blinks and Emma's pulling back the thick, black curtain to the photo booth. She doesn't put any quarters into it first and just guides Regina onto the bench inside it.

When she's seated against the back wall of the booth, Emma slides in next to her and closes the curtain before she turns to her with a devious but happy smirk.

"What are we doing," Regina asks and Emma continues to smirk as she slides a little closer.

"Living in a fairy tale. Our prince just got kissed by a princess and now, I'm gonna kiss a queen."

Emma slides closer still and their knees touch before Regina gasps and gives herself over to the moment. They've been friends and co-parents for years, but never this. Instead of resisting the sudden change, Regina embraces it and closes her eyes before she feels a hand in her hair and soft lips on hers.

A burst of multicolored light emanates from them, a stream of True Love magic revealed in the colors of a rainbow, and again her sight is obscured.

She gasps for air as she sits up in bed and exhales one name. "Emma."

When she looks around, she only sees the blues of her moonlit room in Hell. She's not home and there's no happy ending in her future. Because her future is the bar downstairs that's more like a nightclub tonight and, even if she is attracted to women, she's not interested in any of the women here.

Her heart aches and she feels her chest constrict with the effort it takes her to push down her tears and try to stay calm. But she's not calm, and she can't be calm, because all she sees when she tries to rest is everything that could have been and now never will be.