A/N: In order to help myself clear my mental decks for the next chapter of Safe, I asked for prompts on Tumblr and this is what I got.

As if probably apparent, this five-parter isn't going to be an especially happy piece but it will be a SQ story eventually and hopefully still fairly interesting.

Warnings for this chapter: it's a bit of a downer, yeah.

She keeps a lock of hair in her pocket
She wears a cross around her neck
Yes, the hair is from a little boy
And the cross is someone she has not met
Not yet

-The Black Crowes/She Talks To Angels

DENIAL.

It takes them three weeks to finally see the shores of Neverland off in the distance (landfall is about half a day more of ship-travel away, Hook tells them, his expression grave), and though absolutely no one dares to say it, they all know that this is about two and a half weeks too long (and too late) for this horrible little adventure of theirs to end well.

But no one dares to actually admit it.

Instead, they say trite little things such as, "we'll be on our way home in no time" and "Henry will be fine because he's a tough kid" and when doubt really starts to set in for both Regina and Emma during the incredibly cold and wet night before they're due to finally arrive on the beach, David even tries to convince everyone by reminding them that Henry is the son of a Queen and a Savior. Like that should make him invincible.

It should have worked. Should have at least led to a smile or two.

Instead, all it does manage to do is upset Regina and Emma even more.

The moment the well-meaning words are out of David's mouth, and he's smiling that smile of his that's endearing and infuriating in equal measures, Regina bolts to her feet, her spine snapping to attention. "I need air," she announces, her tone cold and oddly empty. She jams her hands into her coat pockets, and with her head held unnaturally high, strides from the room.

"Emma," David says, his eyes wide with confusion. He looks at his daughter and sees the fear stamped into the suddenly apparent lines of her face. "He is okay," her father assures her, his expression one of the kind of righteous certainty that comes from having always found a way to win. "We're going to get to him in time. You have to believe that. We will get to him."

"We don't know that," Emma replies. She doesn't bother adding what her heart has been telling her for the last two and a half weeks; that it's too late for Henry. That maybe it's too late for all of them, and this is just theatre.

"Emma," Snow says, her voice soft and soothing in a way that frankly makes Emma's skin itch right now. "We have to keep hope. We have to believe."

The sheriff opens her mouth to reply, but then snaps it shut and shakes her head. It's the only way that she manages to keep a horrifying sob from breaking its way out because the truth is that she doesn't believe anymore.

Because deep down, she knows that her son is already dead.

"I need to check on Regina," Emma says when she's finally able to speak again. She doesn't allow time for anyone to argue because honestly what could they say to her that would dissuade her. They could offer her more false assurances and empty sayings, but they can't provide her with anything that she can actually put her faith her. They can't give her truth.

She's not honestly sure that she actually wants the truth right now, but she does know (believe, anyway) that she doesn't want any more lies, either.

Which means that there really is only one place left to go.

She stands up, offers the fakest smile she has in her arsenal (the look Hook throws her way tells her that he, at the very least, sees right through her) and then turns and leaves her parents, the pirate and Gold to their dinner.

She's not hungry, anyway.

"None of this matters," Regina says to her as she steps out onto the deck. Rain is coming down sideways, and it doesn't take but a minute for her to feel the sharp prickling pain of the ice water against her cheeks.

"It does. You're just…you're just afraid. We both are."

"Of course," Regina agrees as she stares out towards the violently crashing waves of the ocean, her eyes never settling for long before jumping away. Her hands are gripped around the railing, her fingers digging deep into the hard wood of it. "But I think we both know that it's more than that."

"I can't believe that…I can't believe that he's gone. I can't believe that this is all pointless," Emma insists. She moves to stand next to Regina, suddenly desperately needing to have someone at least physically in this hell with her.

"This?" Regina questions. "What exactly is this besides a desperate rescue attempt and a last ditch effort by several monsters to be more than that?"

"This is about Henry," Emma says. "It's about saving our son."

Regina says nothing, just gazes out at the water, her fingers tightening.

"Regina…"

"You never were very good at trusting your instincts, were you, dear?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"They say a mother knows when her child is in danger or hurt." Her tone is oddly mild, like she's stating a fact that fascinates her.

"Regina…"

"You know what I feel?" Regina asks, turning to look at Emma, her eyes bubbling with tears that threaten to merge with the rain. "I feel nothing."

"That doesn't mean anything."

"No? It either means that Henry is…" she stops, her face contorting for a moment before she forces a cold mask back into place. "Or I have even less connection to the child I raised than I thought I did." She laughs bitterly. "I have never before hoped so dearly for the latter to be true. That's all the hope I have left in me; the hope that my son feels nothing for me because that might explain why there's this pit in my stomach telling me that…"

"It's a myth, Regina," Emma insists. "Nothing more than that."

"It's not. When he was trapped in that mine, I felt…I felt his fear. I…" She locks eyes with Emma, her fear and heartbreak suddenly palpable. It's more than a bit terrifying to see Regina's mask fall away so easily, the terror she feels digging vivid lines across olive flesh as her chin wobbles. "Did you feel his fear then?" she asks. "Can you feel him now? Tell me you can. Please?"

"No," Emma answers, swallowing harshly against her own fear. "Not then."

"But now? Now you can?" Regina's eyes bloom with desperation.

"No," Emma replies carefully. "But that doesn't mean anything. It's just a myth." She says this again, her words far more pointed and urgent.

Because even though she knows the truth, she can't accept it. She might not want any more lies, but she suddenly realized that she needs them.

They both do.

"Regina," Emma tries again, her hand reaching out and closing around the cold flesh of Regina's left forearm "Greg and Tamara kidnapped Henry for a specific reason. This Shadow guy wanted him for something; he's not just going to kill him. That doesn't make any sense."

"I would think by now, my dear, that you would have understand that very little about my world makes any sense," Regina hisses as she pulls away.

"Okay, you're right, but…but we need to believe, okay? We need to."

"You sound like your father. Like your mother. I expect more of you." The words are harsh and almost violent, a spiteful surge of frightened vitriol.

Deep down, Emma knows that Regina's words aren't exactly personal in nature, but something ugly happens inside of her when she hears them; something that feels a whole lot like what snapping twig might sound like.

"And I expect more of you," Emma fires back, trying to forget about the fact that her mother and father had uttered almost the exact same words just a few minutes prior. "I expect you to be strong for him and for me."

"No, what you want is for me to pretend like you are. Like they are."

"No, I just want you to…"

"To what, Emma? What do you want me to do?"

"Believe with me."

"Why?"

"Because it's all I have right now," the sheriff whispers, her shoulders sagging dramatically. "Because if I don't, I have…I have nothing."

"We," Regina corrects, her eyes jumping back to the waves. She shivers a bit, and it's then that Emma notices that the former queen is absolutely soaked to the bone. Her face is red and stung from the cold and rain.

If she doesn't catch some kind of illness from this, it'll be a damned miracle.

Not that it'll matter if Regina is right and…

No, Emma thinks, the voice in her head almost violently vehement.

No.

She doesn't care what she thinks she knows.

She has to believe.

They both do.

"We," Emma agrees. "We are in this together."

"Fine," Regina says, turning to look at her again. "Then promise me that…promise me that our son is alive. You believe so much? Promise me."

"I…"

"Promise me."

Emma knows better. She does. But then the words are spilling out of lips that are chattering from the cold before her brain can catch up, "I promise."

"I'll kill you if this is a lie," Regina says, tears slipping down her cheeks.

"I know." What she almost adds is what she thinks she might do to herself if she's wrong, but the words freeze in her throat because this is hope, right?

Hope, not denial.

Hope.

Faith.

Belief.

All those things that a member of the Charming family is supposed to have.

All those things that she has never had.

They're the most bitter of lies, the most horrible of empty falsities.

And yet they spill so easily forward. Like a knife through warm butter.

She closes her eyes and prays to the same higher being that had allowed her to have been nearly beaten to death as an ten year old child thanks to the alcoholic rages of a man who was supposed to take care of her.

She prays and hopes and believes.

And she makes the same promise to herself. Over and over again.

He'll be okay. He is okay.

He's okay.

It's okay.

It's all going to be okay.

She looks up at Regina and sees the woman staring back at her, her nearly black eyes glazed over with fear and doubt. But maybe a little hope, too.

"We should get below deck," Emma says because she thinks if she doesn't find a way to end this conversation, she'll try to pull back the promise.

"Someone needs to keep an eye out for trouble," Regina reminds her.

"Not tonight," Emma tells her. "Neither one of us can see a damned thing through this rain, and besides, Hook will be up here before long, anyway."

"You would leave getting to Henry to Hook?"

"No, I would leave captaining this ship to him. There's nothing either of us can do besides get sick up here. You said you expected more of me? Well I expect you to be by my side when we storm the island to save Henry, and you sure as hell won't be able to do that if down with pneumonia."

"Even if I were, nothing would stop me from–"

"Maybe you think that, but I've been there, and I know how weak the body can get, Regina. I would think after what you just went through with Greg and Tamara, you would, too."

"And yet here I am. Still alive. Still standing," Regina snaps back, her eyes blazing with pride and anger. This is a woman who doesn't know how to not fight back even when maybe it would be better not to.

"Yeah, okay, but even you have limits. Henry can't afford those and neither can I. Now we are going downstairs and we are both going to bed because in the morning, we are going to find our son. Alive."

She turns then and walks away.

All the while hoping that Regina will be right behind her.

She is.

TBC...

I can be found on Tumblr at sgtmac7. The next chapter should be up tomorrow. Grazie!