A/N: AHA I GOT IT UP! MY INTERNET HAS BEEN DOWN FOR SIX WHOLE FUCKING DAYS! IT FINALLY STARTED UP AGAIN! SO NOW I CAN POST THIS!

Ok, so I hope that you like it. I've got some one-shots and ch.4 of Get Down Tonight almost ready for posting, so now that my internet is up, and I'm on break I'm hoping to get more done. So, yea, fingers crossed everyone.

Trigger Warnings:

Rape

PTSD

Suicide

Child/Domestic Abuse

Let me know if I missed something.

All my love,

CBC

Katherine grumbled as she stood, swallowing as best she could despite the dry feeling in her mouth and the pounding in her head… and wrapped her robe around herself. She leaned over and kissed her husband, "God, James, last night was amazing."

He chuckled, a low rumbling deep in his chest, and groaned as he lifted up to give another kiss to her lips, "You truly are good at role playing the naughty wife."

Smiling slyly, she gave him a wink, "You're good at fucking me into oblivion with a beer bottle."

The loud pounding that had woken them started up again, and she groaned as he hissed, "Katie, baby, I'm completely naked, think you could get it without me?"

She nodded, "Yea, think you're okay to get me some water, aspirin, and put it into the bathroom so I can take it before my shower? After I get rid of whoever is beating on our door."

"Sure thing, baby cakes, just get the person knocking on our door to stop," he groaned again and choked a little, "Oh… I feel a little sick."

"Take it slow, don't throw up on the carpet. Use the backroom kitchen," She nodded again before slowly making her way out of the bedroom, calling out, "Coming!" She hissed at the ringing in her ears, and cursed at the heaviness of her body. Her stomach was churning, and her head was light despite the heavy pounding.

"Katherine! Open up!"

Her heart stopped, "Graham?" She asked as she made her way closer to the door.

"Katherine!" The loud, heavy pounding continued.

Reaching the door, she swung it open, and ducked to miss the Sheriff's fist that was moving as if he was about to knock on the door again, "What?"

"Have you heard from Regina recently? Phone call, text message, anything?"

Blinking in pain from the morning sun, Katherine shook her head slowly, fighting the dizzy wave it caused, "No, God, doesn't she have that speech thing? Why don't you go look there. All that is over at the town hall, you know that, you're the Sheriff. I'm hung over as all get out, Graham, and I do not appreciate you pounding the hell out of the front door."

"I just came from the town hall. Her father hasn't seen her, and neither has her mother. No one has seen her, Katherine. Her speech is in five minutes. Has she called you?"

"No. I don't know. I turned my phone in silent. I was kind of busy, getting my brains fucked out. You know, because I have a husband, and it's a goddamn Saturday morning… which means last night-"

"Get your damn phone, Kat. No one has heard from Regina since last night around nine when she called her father."

"All right, come on in, and keep your goddamn trousers on. Fuck, Graham, I feel like shit, I've only had maybe a couple hours of sleep. I'm still feeling the affects of the alcohol, and I definitely can still feel some of the effects of the weed. James is in the back, so stay in the front living room… unless you want an eyeful. He's probably hard as a rock right now."

"I don't care about your drunken sexual endeavors with your husband, just go and get your damn phone, and tell me if she's called you. You need to get your shit together Katherine."

"I'll be right back," she mumbled, waving him into the living room as she went down the hall.

"What's going on?" James asked, and Katherine turned away when he gagged a little, and spit up bile.

"Regina is missing, so Sheriff Graham wants to know if she's contacted me," she replied, moving past him to her bedside dresser drawer.

"Did you tell him that we were a little busy last night?"

She nodded and pulled out her phone, running a hand through her hair, and groaning at the sticky, matted knot it had become, "God, I need a shower. Yea, I told him. He said to check if she called me."

He made a humming noise and returned to the backroom kitchen of the house, "Get him gone, take your shower, food should be ready."

"Yea, I will. Thanks," she replied before heading back out to the living room.

Graham was leaning against the wall when she returned, "Well?"

"Here's my phone. It might be dead, or it got turned off, I don't know. My second charger's at the wall, over there in the corner, if it doesn't turn on. I need a shower, I've got cum and beer in my hair."

"I'm plugging it in, and staying here until it comes on and we figure out if she's called you."

She waved a limp hand in his direction, "Fine. I'm getting some aspirin that James set out for me, getting some water, taking a shower, and cleaning up. God, I probably look like a fucked whore."

Graham scoffed, "You probably acted like one too. You need to stop with the smoking and drinking, Kat. But that's a conversation I will have with you later. Go shower off."

She left a string of choice words in her wake, and stumbled back down the hall into the bathroom, groaning before she threw up once into the toilet.

Smiling at the sight of aspirin and a glass of water set out for her, she down them quickly before stripping off her robe, and turning on the water, waiting for it to warm up before stepping under the hot spray, sighing as it helped to ease the pounding of her body.

Regina probably just decided to not go to the stupid speech. She doesn't want to be Mayor… maybe she decided to stand up a little.

Katherine grabbed the shampoo bottle, squirted a large dollop into her palm, put the bottle back down, and began to wash her hair. Snarling when her fingers got caught in a particularly nasty jumble, she rolled her eyes, and let her thoughts go with the suds down the drain.

/SQ/

Graham knocked on the front door before using his own key to enter the large mansion, "Regina," he called out gently, "it's Graham, Regina."

Taking a deep breath as he got no reply, he closed the door behind him and began his slow search of the house, "Regina, are you awake?"

He skimmed through the downstairs, and noted how there was a dirty plate and glass in the sink. Sighing, he made quick work, and cleaned the dishes, leaving them in the drying rack before he went upstairs, "Regina, it's Graham. I'm coming up the stairs. It's Graham."

He ascended swiftly, and nearing the master bedroom, he heard the slightest whimper that was followed by a rustling shuffle.

Knocking on the door, he pushed it open to see Regina tossing and turning on the bed, "Regina, it's Graham," he spoke with a calm urgency. She twisted, and cried out, her hand rising from the bed to rake through the empty air.

Stepping to the edge of the bed he spoke again, "Regina, it's Graham." He reached out, and put a firm hand on her shin, not low enough to grab her ankle, and not too close to her knee, "Regina, it's Graham."

Her leg thrashed out violently beneath his touch, and he swiftly removed his hand. A cry split from her lips, and he grimaced… usually she would wake faster than this. A whimper followed the cry, along with a whispered word that Graham was figuring was probably along the lines of a sobbing, "Stop."

"Regina. Honey, it's Graham," he placed his hand against her shin again briefly, removing it once more when she kicked out in her sleep again.

"Damn it, Regina. You're going to rip open your thighs," he muttered to himself as he quickly decided to dangerously change tactics.

Moving further up the bed, so he was standing beside her, he eluded a starkly swung fist, and pressed a kiss to her forehead, "Regina, it's Graham. Wake up, Regina." He said softly as he sat down as carefully as he could, trying not to jostle the bed too much for fear of adding to her unconscious horrors.

He scoffed to himself… they may be unconscious now, but Regina had dealt with enough conscious horrors to be haunted by them in her sleep, as well as when she was wide awake.

Lifting his hand to her cheek, he brushed her cheekbone gently, and maneuvered around another swing to kiss her forehead again, "Regina, wake up. It's Graham. Regina."

Her whole body convulsed, and a sharp scream cut through the air, "Nooo!"

Grasping her face in his hands, he ran his fingers gently across her cheeks, "Regina! It's Graham!" He raised his voice a little, and felt a rush of relief when her eyelids fluttered in a more conscious manner, "It's Graham, honey! Regina!"

She gasped out, her eyes ripping open, as her chest moved to shoot off the bed, but his hands against her face halted her movement, "It's Graham." He bit out quickly, "Graham. I'm Graham. You're safe. Regina, it's Graham. It's Graham, Regina, you're safe."

He felt her head turn in his hands, and found himself looking into red, puffy, tear filled eyes, "Graham."

He nodded, and slowly brought her cheek to his chest, "I've got you, Regina. You're okay."

A painful sob was his reply as she moved her hands to fist into his shirt against his chest, burying her face into the fabric as she cried, "He… came back… and he… he…" her words were barely audible, and broken up with body wracking sobs as she clung tightly to him.

Graham released her cheeks from his hands, and slid his hands around her back, running them smoothly over the jagged lines that lay across her skin, "I'm right here, Regina. I've got you."

"He came… and… I was wi… with…" she sucked in a rattling breath and he grimaced when he heard the tell-tale signs of bile rising up her throat. Gathering her into his arms, he waited a moment before he could tell she had fought the urge to vomit off.

"Let's get you into the bathroom, Regina. Okay? I'll draw you a bath, and grab you a bucket, and if you want, I can sit behind you in the tub."

She nodded into his chest, and he stood up, lifting her with him with a minimal grunt from the awkward angle as he rose to his feet.

Carrying her into the bathroom with ease, he shifted her weight so he could hold her with one arm, and her legs wrapped loosely around his hips. Flipping on the room heater, he jostled her weight just a little and moved further into the large bathroom. Leaning over slightly to pull the lever for the water to start spilling from the spout, he thanked God that she was a small-framed woman, and that he was able to hold her like this. After whatever had happened in her nightmare… it would only cause drastic damage if he released her before she had stopped crying. It would tear her from her fragile hold on reality, and throw her head long into her PTSD.

"Regina," he spoke softly against her hair that was tucked up under his chin, "I'm going to sit you down on the toilet set, so I can strip you down. Are you ready?"

A whimper was his response, that was quickly followed by a sob- though her crying was slowing little by little- and he shifted her in his arms, holding her closer, "It's okay, Regina. I won't let you go completely." She whimpered again, and clutched his shirt tighter in her fists, "Okay, want me to sit you on my lap, and you can undress that way?"

A long pause- filled with simpering, quieting sobs, and sniffles- met his words, and he was about to reach down to shut off the slow streaming water when he felt a nod against his chest, and the quietest whispered response, "Okay."

Moving, he sat down on the closed toilet lid, and settled her into his lap, "Regina, it's okay. I know about your relapse from last week. We're going to remove the gauze, and I'll rewrap them after we've washed them. Would you like me to sit in the bathtub with you?"

He could feel her jaw working as she swallowed, before she nodded again, her fists slowly releasing his shirt from their tight clutches.

"All right, I'm going to remove your top first. Want me to pull it over your head, or unbutton it?"

"Buttons," she murmured.

He lowered his hands from her back, to her front, and quickly unbuttoned her silk pajama top, and slid it from her shoulders, revealing her marred body to the warming air of the room.

"Would you like to have me remove my shirt as well, before we take off your bottoms?" He asked as he tossed her shirt into the laundry hamper.

She nodded, and shifted to allow him room. Graham made sure that she wouldn't fall off his legs, before he pulled his shirt from his pants, and lifted it up and over his head, tossing it into the hamper as well- he had enough of his clothes here anyway, another shirt wouldn't hurt.

"Do you want to stand?" He asked gently, "It will be easier to remove your pants, and the gauze. Then I can strip myself down, and plug the tub before getting in. You can hold onto my shoulders the whole time. I'll keep one hand holding yours. I won't let you go."

She wiggled around, and slowly got to her feet, leaning her arms around his neck, "Don't…" she choked on a small sob, "let go."

Keeping her as close to him as he could, he kept his promise, and linked his fingers with hers as he eased the silk slowly down her thighs with his other hand. He carefully moved his hand as he slid the silk down, releasing a breath when he took stock of the gauze that was wrapped from the bottom of her hips to the tops of her knees, "Left leg," he said softly, and she raised her left leg so he could slip the material away, then repeated the motion with her right leg. "I'm going to remove your panties, Regina, okay. You're safe. I'm Graham, and I'm not going to do anything you don't want me to. Okay?"

She nodded against the top of his head, and he slipped his fingers into the hem of the soft cotton underwear that stretched easily over the gauze wrappings, unlike her usual satin nighttime panties. Tugging the fabric over her feet, he tossed both the pants and the underwear into the hamper. "Okay, Regina, I'm going to take off the gauze."

She took a deep breath before she nodded against his head again, and with careful movements, he removed the wrappings from her left leg, then her right. He forced his breathing to remain calm as he briefly studied the wounds, searching for any signs of infection. He threw the gauze into the trash, making a mental note to have it disposed of in the outside garbage before too long. Pressing his hand soothingly against the angry, scabbed-over wounds, he listened closely to her breathing patterns to discern where the most painful, and tender, cuts were. Finishing his work, he removed his hands, and spoke softly, "Regina, I need to stand."

Regina slid her arms from his neck to his torso as he stood, keeping as much contact with him as she could. He moved as little as he could while he unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants and shoved them down his legs before he kicked them off. Using his foot to lift the pants from the ground, he grabbed them and tossed them after the other clothes. Lifting her up, he carefully moved towards the tub, and dropped the stopper into the bottom so that it would begin to fill. Reaching to the side, he pulled a bucket close to bathtub, just in case she found the need to vomit become present again.

He then placed her feet back onto the ground, and held firmly, comfortingly, to her hand as he slipped down into the tub that was filling with the perfect temperature water, with his boxers still on, "Okay, Regina."

She swiftly followed suit, never releasing his hand as she stepped into the tub, and lowered her body into the quickly rising water, leaning back against his lean, muscular body.

Once she was settled against him, he untangled their fingers and wrapped his arms lightly around her waist, "We'll wash your thighs after we've soaked."

She nodded against his chest, and he began to hum softly, her short breathing, and sniffled crying finally coming to its end as he reached with his foot to turn off the water once it had reached a favorable height in the tub. Long moments passed, his humming the only noise in the room as her breathing evened out in a regular pattern.

Regina tilted her head to one side, resting her cheek against his naked, downy hair covered chest. Graham resisted the urge to chuckle as he recalled the many times she had told him he had baby soft hair. She loved his baby soft hair, she had said on so many occasions, because it was soothingly gentle, unlike the coarse, and painful scratching of her late rapist's body hair.

He clenched his jaw, and dropped a kiss to the top of her head, "I'm right here, Regina."

Another moment passed by before her tear hoarsened voice met his ears, "Thank you…."

He kissed the top of her head again, "Are you ready to say what happened? Or are we going to leave it?"

Regina took a deep breath, "He came back." She said quietly, her tone curt, and filled with pain. "He killed you, and Katherine." Her voice got even softer as she continued to speak. "Then…" he felt her the side of her neck bob with her hard swallow, "then… he… killed Miss. Swan." Her voice cracked and broke. "He made me watch." She swallowed again. "Then he killed her baby. Her beautiful… her beautiful baby. Her son. He tore him apart."

Her body lurched beneath his hands, and he grabbed for the bucket, just in time for her to empty her stomach into it. He hummed softly into her ear as she threw up a second time before she leaned back against him, her body relaxing slightly, "Any better?" He asked as he set the bucket back on the floor.

She turned her head again, resting her cheek once again against his peachy, dark-colored, chest hair, "I thought…. I thought that maybe we could be happy. She didn't look at me like everyone here does. She's so very beautiful, and I would always tell her so. I would spend my life treating her like she's meant to be treated. I can… could… never take away the abuse she has gone through, but I wanted to create new thoughts in her head. I would help her with her son, and I could make her laugh, and make her nightmares go away."

He felt her take a deep breath before she went on, "That's what she told me. She told me that she suffered from nightmares, and that when I was in the room that they weren't there. I hope she's still sleeping well. She deserves to get good sleep, to not have to worry."

"What about you, Regina?"

"What about me, Graham? A girl like her could never love me, but if I could make her life better than mine, that is all that matters. Nobody loves me, but if I could make her believe that she was safe, and that she could have a good life, that is all that matters. There is no 'me' in this equation, Graham. There never has been. I will never have a normal life. I will never be anything but the Mayor who attempted suicide. That's the only reason they keep me in office. That and they're afraid I'll murder them… like I did my dear, late husband," she sneered and tensed in his arms, "Don't think I don't hear them saying that they could find someone else to be a good Mayor. I'm nothing, Graham. I haven't been anything since the day I was born. I'm not worth anything, and I haven't been anything but a sick chess piece in my mother's twisted games. Even dead she still controls my life. The car crash that claimed her and Daddy did nothing but cause me pain and tighten her grip on me. There is no 'me' in anything, Graham, because I've never been worth enough to have my own life."

"That isn't true, Regina."

"It is too. I have the proof written all over my body. Inside and outside. It's just as true as our failed relationship because I'm too fucked up and you were too afraid to break me by telling me I was hurting you. I'm not worth anything, Graham. I never have been, and I most certainly never will. Not anymore. I was deluding myself by believing that maybe she would be different. That maybe I could help her heal. I can't do anything, Graham. The only thing that I wound up doing…" he felt her jaw working as she swallowed, "all I ended up doing was scaring her. All I did was hurt her further."

"Regina, you are worth something, and don't even attempt at interrupting and saying that you are worth the abuse you suffered because that is the farthest thing from the truth. You aren't some punching bag, or whipping post, or knife holder… or anything else like that."

She huffed, "I was sex toy."

"No, because that wasn't sex. That was rape, Regina, and you know it."

"Well, why don't we bring him back to life and ask him. My opinion never mattered! He was such a saint. I was the whore who wasted away my life by having sex before marriage!"

"No!" Graham snapped, "Your opinion matters, Regina. You matter, Regina. You aren't some whore, and you never were. I care about you, Regina. Katherine cares about you, too. Granny cares about you. Ruby cares about you. Sydney, no matter how perverted he may be, cares about you." He paused before adding, "Just… don't ever show him anything back, because it may make his little brain explode… and that would be a lot of paperwork."

She snorted, and scoffed, and he smiled, knowing that she was hiding a small smile at his words. Sydney was a perverted ass who couldn't take his eyes off of her, but despite it all, Graham knew first hand that Sydney would never do anything to force himself on Regina. He got to listen to the drunk man profess that, among various other things, for eight hours while he was supposed to be sleeping off the alcohol after causing a public disturbance and almost causing a car accident after dashing across the street to be at Regina's side.

"Regina, you are worth so very much. I know that you don't truly believe me, but I will always believe you matter. You matter to me. I care about you with all my heart, and I always will."

She didn't reply, so he simply tightened his hold around her waist, and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, content to hold her and continue to hum until the water cooled off. That would be when he would wash her thighs, before they got out, and he would help her dry off and rewrap her wounds before tucking her back into bed.

Swallowing, he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, and held her close, wishing that for once she would get a break, and something good would happen.

She deserved it.

She needed it.

He wouldn't be able to live with himself if she tried to kill herself again. It would kill him.

If only he had been able to get her away. If only there had been something more he could have done for her. If only he had been more help before everything got to be too much to handle. If only he'd packed up a car, and whisked her away from Storybrooke, and the abuse from her mother, and that sick bastard who had the title of her husband.

/SQ/

Emma gasped out as she forced herself awake, shaking and sweating.

Gulping air into her lungs, she swallowed the growing knot in her throat, and pushed away the blankets before she kicked her feet over the side of the bed, and rested her elbows on her knees, and her face in her hands.

She rubbed the heels of her palms into her eyes, groaning at the tears that squeezed out and trickled down her cheeks.

Why can't I get a break?

Standing, she slowly made her way to the bathroom, her breathing shallow, and somewhat erratic.

She'd been out of the hospital for four days now… but her panic and her nightmares had only been getting increasingly worse.

Stumbling into the upstairs bathroom, she closed the door behind her and stripped out of her sweat-drenched clothes that Mary-Margaret had gotten for her from the store.

Grabbing the glass next to the sink, she filled it with tap water before she gulped it down and repeated the action a total of six times before she was gagging and vomiting from too much water, too fast.

Clearing her mouth of her stomach contents with a swish of water, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and put the glass back before she opened the medicine cabinet and removed her little box of tools, that was disguised as a small band-aid box. Mary-Margaret had so many band-aid boxes in the downstairs bathroom, that Emma found it the safest place to hide her tools, until she was able to find something better.

Spilling the box's contents out onto the smooth, tile counter, she smiled and sighed, admiring the shininess of all her new tools. A paper clip, a safety pin, three razor blades from a broken shaver that she'd gotten from a pack of unopened disposables downstairs, a small blade from a sharpener that she'd gotten from Mary-Margaret when she'd asked for one, a lighter that she'd snitched from the grocery store, a nail file, a wall tack, and a little pocket knife she had also snitched from the grocery store. Running her fingers over the blades carefully, she decided which one she was going to use.

Picking up the little blade that she had removed from the pencil sharpener, she moved to the bathtub and stepped in, sliding down to sit with her back against the cool porcelain. Blinking back tears, she drew the little blade across her stitches-free arm, releasing a shaky sigh as the blood slowly leaked out, gathered together, dribbled down her arm, and dripped down the edge of the bathtub, leaving a streak down the side of the white porcelain. She repeated the action three more times before she leaned her head back back, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, enjoying the stinging pain in her arm.

Opening her eyes slowly, she looked at her bleeding arm for a moment before glancing at the small clock that sat on the sink counter. Sighing, she decided there was no point in trying to go back to sleep when it was already four in the morning and Mary-Margaret woke up at six.

With that decision made in her mind, she refocused her attention on her scarred forearm and went back to work, dragging the little blade through her skin and watching with rapt attention, and awe at the beads of blood that trickled, gathered, and streamed down her arm to splash onto the white porcelain of the tub before creating a red waterfall down the side that pooled beneath her raised knee in the bottom of the tub.

Her eyes were wet, and they stung with tears as she replayed the vivid nightmares through her mind over, and over, again. Her whole body trembled with the flashing images, and sickly familiarity of her unconsciousness.

Neal. Neal, with his pretty eyes, and quirky smile that made her fall in love. Neal, with his hearty laugh that always made her smile. Neal when he would hit her. Neal when he would love her. Neal when he starved her. Neal when he took her out and treated her like a princess. Neal… with his veiled kindness that made her feel loved. He was the only one that ever showed her any kind affections even as he beat on her… and it had made her start to think that she deserved it because they loved each other.

Her foster brothers who would all grope her, and tease her. Her foster fathers who would touch her, and beat her. Her foster mothers who wouldn't get her pads or tampons when she just happened to be misbehaving.

The myriad of beatings and bruises she'd gotten. The uncountable number of times she'd been raped by an older foster brother, or a foster father… or even a foster mother…. The numberless days she'd been left without food for one reason or another. The many times that she had been used as a drug tester for new mixes of heroin, or cocaine, or some other illegal substance, because her foster parent wanted to get the mix just right. The endless nights she would be locked up in some closet, box, or room.

It all flickered beneath her eyelids, meshing together and blocking out the bits and pieces of good she could remember from her childhood.

The pretty blue shirt she'd gotten for Christmas from a girl at school.

The single mother who looked after her for a month, and feed her three times a day, and left snacks in a drawer for her to have when she was hungry.

The one time a foster sister had been nice to her. She had given her a jacket when she had gotten cold.

A foster brother who had punched their foster father after the sick bastard had been touching her inappropriately.

Her foster father who taught her how to fish in the little creek a few miles from the house.

A sob tore through her body before escaping from her lips as a ragged, pained sound, and she pressed the back of her bloody arm to her lips as the tears in her eyes began to run down her cheeks.

She had gotten away, but everything followed her.

No more foster parents. No more of her abusive boyfriend. Yet, she was surrounded by the horrors of her past.

Her nightmares and her daytime terrors, they were everywhere.

She could never get away from it. It wouldn't just leave her be.

She slid the little blade deeper through her skin, biting her lower lip between her teeth as she hissed out a stream of hot air in a mix of pain and relief.

She may not be able to drink alcohol because she had to breastfeed Henry, but nothing was going to stop her from holding onto what little control she still had over her nightmares.

Curling her arms around her legs, she placed her forehead onto her knees and continued to cry.

Why can't something finally go right? Why can't something just go right for once? Why can't I be happy for once, without it getting taken away?

Swallowing back a loud, obnoxious sob, she ignored the pain in her body as she continued to stay curled up tight, blood smearing across her leg, from her arm jerking as her shoulders hitched and bounced as she cried.

/SQ/

Katherine sighed as she shut off the water, and shook out her hair a little. She was feeling immensely better already. Her hair was no longer sticky, and her body wasn't sticky. Her mind was much more clear, and wasn't pounding as hard.

Taking a deep breath, she stretched a little, before releasing the air and stepping from the shower, grabbing a large, fluffy towel and drying herself off with a slow gentleness.

She tied the towel around her hair before reaching into the cabinet for her favorite lotion. Smiling, she began to hum softly to herself as she slathered the cool liquid across her skin, enjoying the simplicity of the action after her intense night with James.

Grabbing the bottle, she was about to repeat the motion of smoothing the lotion into her leg when a voice- Graham's, she decided, because James did not sound like that- shouted out, "Katherine! Damn it, Katherine!"

Grumbling, she moved to grab her robe as footsteps sounded down the hall, "What?"

"Why couldn't you have answered your phone?" Graham screamed, as he threw open the bathroom door, "Why didn't you answer your phone!"

Katherine glared at him as she tied her robe, "Because I was busy, Graham! What, I'm just supposed to pause mid-orgasm to answer my phone! I have a life, dammit!"

Graham snatched her arm and began to drag her out, "Call the hospital and have them send an ambulance to Regina's manor. Move your ass, you're going in your robe, we have no time for you to change."

"What the hell, Graham! I'm busy! What the hell is going on!"

"Well, maybe if you'd picked up your damn phone you would know!" Graham snarled as he continued to yank her out of the house. "If you won't fucking call the hospital, then get your damn ass in the driver's seat and I'll call the hospital."

"Call the hospital? Why?"

"Because of the message Regina left on your phone. Five of them! Five goddamn messages and you didn't pick up a single time! You didn't fucking bother did you! You didn't even check to see who was calling!"

"What the hell is going on, Graham?"

Graham wrenched open the passenger door, practically shoving her inside as tossed his phone at her, "Use my phone to call the hospital, tell them to go to Regina's. Now, Katherine! Your phone is only on eight percent. I'll let you hear the messages after you've called."

Katherine gaped at him as he vaulted over the hood of the car, and slid into the driver's seat, "What's going on?"

"Regina may be dead! Call the damn hospital!"

Katherine's throat went dry and she gasped, fumbling with the phone in her hands to dial for the hospital's emergency crew.

/SQ/

Emma smiled tiredly as she stepped into the NICU room and shuffled over to Henry's incubator, "Hey, Kid. Hey, buddy, how's my sweet boy?" She cooed.

"Hello, Emma. Are you feeling up to breastfeeding while you're here?" The nurse asked, a friendly smile on her face.

Emma nodded, "Yea, that'd be great. How's he doing?"

"He's doing really well. He's getting stronger every day, and every day he gets stronger a little more than the day before. He's a real tough fighter, and he's making his way out of the danger zone really quickly. Go ahead and wash your hands, and slip off your shirt. Get comfortable in the rocking chair, the blanket on the back you can use, and I'll bring him to you."

Emma quickly washed her hands as she was instructed to… and then hesitated to remove her shirt. Taking a deep breath, she sought out the nurse with her eyes, watching as the woman fiddled with a chart with her back towards Emma.

Stripping off her shirt, she grabbed the blanket from off the back of the rocking chair, and slung it over her cut up wrist as she settled into the rocker. Watching the nurse out of the corners of her eyes, she arranged the blanket so that even when she was handed her son, the nurse would not be able to see the damage she had done to herself.

Relieved, she exhaled a sigh before looking up, "I'm ready when he is," she said softly, smiling when the nurse turned and smiled at her.

"Sure thing, I just need to check one last thing, then he'll be all set," the nurse replied before turning back to the chart she was holding in her hands.

A moment later, the nurse put down the chart, and then seconds after she had removed Henry from the incubator, he was in Emma's arms, small, beautiful, and perfect.

Leaning over, she pressed gentle kisses to his forehead and cheeks, "Hey, Kid, it's your momma. Momma loves you, Henry, momma loves you, kid." She grinned and gasped as he latched onto her breast and began to suckle in earnest.

The nurse patted her shoulder, "Look at that, he's already getting better at it. That shows how much he's been improving. You'll have him home before you know it, just you wait. I'll go ahead and leave you to it, don't be afraid to call out if you need any help, I'll be in hearing range."

Emma smiled up at her as she relaxed a little more into the rocking chair, using her toes to move them back and forth lightly, enjoying the soothing movements perhaps more than her son did, "Okay. Thanks."

"Sure thing. It's my pleasure," the nurse gave her yet another smile before she moved away, giving Emma her space and privacy to be with her son.

Emma returned her attention to her son, whose little hand was pressed up against her chest in a little fist, and felt tears prick the corners of her eyes.

She suddenly felt very glad she'd asked Mary-Margaret to not worry about coming up with her. Henry was her son, not Mary-Margaret's, and this was between mother and son.

Would Regina have allowed you to come up on your own? Would you have asked her to join you?

Scowling to herself at the thoughts that popped up into her head, she swallowed hard, and focused her thoughts on studying the little quirks about her little boy.

She couldn't keep thinking about her. It wasn't healthy to wonder what the older woman was doing, or if she was sad that Emma wasn't staying with her.

So she pushed the thoughts out of her head and filled her brain with facts about her son, the beautiful baby that she held so wonderfully in her arms.

Regina was not to be in her mind, because Regina wasn't the good person she had begun to think she was. No… Regina was a selfish woman, an ungrateful woman, and a liar.

So there wasn't any reason for her to take up any of Emma's time.

Nodding to herself, Emma took a deep breath, and released it with a distinct determination.

Regina wasn't going to bother her.

Mary-Margaret was her friend.

Regina would do nothing but hurt her.

A/N: Right-ee-o. So that's Chapter 13.

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All my love,

CBC