For maybe a hot minute in the Echo Caves, Emma had missed Regina. It was the perfect time for her usual cutting remark, for her to say what everyone was thinking, because Emma didn't know what everyone was thinking. Only what she was thinking, how hurt and miserable and angry she was. And at least Regina would say something, lance the boil and keep it from festering. Instead, everything Mary-Margaret had said just stayed there. It followed Emma out of the cave, hung onto her while she talked with Neal and Hook. What was there to say to them—how could they want her when her own mother didn't even… wanted something else, something new and fresh and not so damaged.

But of course, Regina was back at the camp, Rumpelstiltskin along with her, the two of them looking thick as thieves.

With her usual smugness, Regina announced "I found Gold chatting up Pan's shadow, which he had unfortunately mistaken for the love of his life." She glanced at Gold with all the superiority she could muster, which was considerable. "Hope you two crazy kids kept it above the waist."

"Not now, Regina," Mary-Margaret said, dropping her bow and arrows by the fire. She sat down heavily, like her words were pressing down on her and not Emma.

"Fine. Just please remember that he was macking on a shadow the next time you think he's hip." Regina smiled at Gold's irritated look. "Ah, I see you've gotten back Father Of The Year. Good. We need all the people we can get to watch as I solve everyone's problems for them. Rumpel has a fate worse than death in store for Pan back at his… store. We've sent Ariel to go get it."

"Ariel?" Mary-Margaret breathed. "What've you done to that poor girl?"

"Oh, I stole her voice," Regina said easily, leaning back against a tree. "Didn't she tell you?"

Hook laughed a little, but when Mary-Margaret looked at him, he was drinking from his flask.

Emma got out from under her stupor enough to raise her head. "Wait. Mary-Margaret's friends with the Little Mermaid and Regina screwed her—yeah. Of course. Why not?"

"Don't worry," Regina said, "I dispatched Lilo and Stitch along with her, she'll be fine."

"Really?"

"No, I'm just seeing how far I can push this. If you'd accepted that, I would've said that Spider-Man is on his way with ice cream."

Now Mary-Margaret popped up to defend her. "She's not in the mood for this, Regina. None of us are."

"How's she feeling?" Regina asked, scrutinizing Emma's downcast head. "Angry? Bitter? What a perfect time to continue her training." Regina turned on her heel and headed out into the woods. "Emma, come," she ordered with an accompanying hand gesture.

Emma dutifully got up.

David spoke up. "Emma, are you sure she's who you want to be with right now?"

"Wouldn't you rather be with your family?" Mary-Margaret added.

Emma shook her head. At the moment, the fact that Regina wasn't family was her one redeeming quality.

Emma caught up with Regina fairly fast. She had no idea why they needed to be so far from camp to train; before, Regina had seemed to delight in having Emma cast spells in front of her parents. Maybe it was just that her results tended to be more humiliating than successful.

"Regina, wait up," Emma called, but Regina was stalking through the jungle like she was training for a marathon. "Regina, stop."

Regina froze. "Was that you giving me an order?"

"I don't wanna learn magic," Emma said, stopping, slightly out of breath more from her emotions than from the brisk jog.

"Ah, yes, you've realized how altering the universe with your will alone is less effective in combat than, say, a really big knife." Regina looked back at her. "The training continues. I don't care how bad you are at it. I'm going to whip you into shape or kill you trying."

"It's 'die trying.'"

After a moment's thought, Regina shook her head. "That doesn't work for me."

Emma could feel that vein in her neck throbbing. She'd named it after Regina. "It's simple. I can't be like you. I don't want to be motivated by anger and hate and—and bitterness!"

"All of those being inappropriate reactions to having our son kidnapped by a sociopath?"

"You've said it yourself. All magic comes with a price. I don't want to pay it."

"Allow me to let you in on a little secret, my dear." Regina sat down on a fallen log, stretching her legs out like she was reclining on a throne. "Everything has a price. Whatever you say or don't say, whatever you do or don't do—all actions have consequences. You never know what you'll come to regret. But I'd rather have remorse for trying than for never doing anything at all."

"You would say that." Emma crossed her arms tightly. "What haven't you tried to fix with magic?"

"I could ask the same question of you. Did you know your mother was infertile? The only reason you're here is because she used magical waters to heal herself. We only got here because of a magic bean. We know where Pan is because of a magic map. Shall I go on, or do you take my point?"

The hands Emma had on her biceps tightened. "That magic is different."

"Is it? I thought all magic had a price. I wasn't aware there was a little footnote in there saying 'except for the magic I do.'"

Emma broke out of the cage her arms had wound around herself, now shoving her finger down at the ground. "That magic isn't motivated by anger."

"Now you have a problem with anger? I don't recall you being so Zen when you punched me in the face."

Emma grinned a little before she could help herself. That was a good memory. She wiped her face of it quickly. "I don't want to be that person. I don't want to be an angry person."

Regina stood now, straightening her lapels like a professor about to give a lecture. "What does that mean? 'An angry person.' Everyone gets angry. Some more than others, true, but—"

"Mary-Margaret doesn't get angry."

After a cold moment, a slow smile spread across Regina's lips. "Ah. Now I see."

"What? That I would like to be more like my mother, the universally beloved and respected superhero?"

Emma could learn to hate the way Regina's head tilted to the side, like something had been said so unutterably stupid that she had to have heard it wrong. "Oh. Oh. Is that what we're pretending you're doing? Being more like mommy because she's such a role model?"

"I'm not listening to you anymore," Emma said lowly, resisting the urge to plug her ears. "I'm not learning magic. That's final."

She was turning to leave when Regina spoke again, her voice—different somehow. Less affected. "You think you're the only one who's tried changing herself to get her parents to accept her?"

Emma held very still, like an animal being stalked by a predator, as she spoke. "They love me."

"Doesn't feel like it, does it?" Leaves crumpled under Regina as she approached. "All this time, I've wanted to know where your weakness lay, what you were afraid of, when it was so simple." Regina's voice deepened into the sinister croon Emma had grown used to. "You're so very afraid that if you act like who you really are, they'll reject you. Is that what your foster parents did, Emma? Did they accept you just long enough for you to think you could show them how deep your hurt really goes, but when they saw it—oh, suddenly you just weren't good enough to be in that perfect family they pictured when they first took you in."

Emma wheeled to face Regina, her face burning. "Don't you have enough people trying to kill you on this island?"

Regina pressed on, drawing up so close to Emma their noses were practically touching. "But the really foolish part is thinking your parents are going to kick you to the curb if you show them a moment's anger. Say what you will about them, and I have, but they are loyal. The only way you could get them to give up on you is to be—well, me."

A short, bitter laugh forced itself up out of Emma's throat like bile. "You're so fucking stupid. That's where you're wrong. They've already given up on me."

Again, the predatory fire in Regina's eyes dimmed. She looked almost heartbroken as she regarded Emma. "What are you talking about?"

"To save Neal, we had to go into the Echo Caves."

Regina bit her lip. "I've heard of it."

"Yeah? Well, guess what Mary-Margaret's secret is. She wants another baby. But that's not the secret. The secret is why." Emma scrubbed at her face, even though no tears were coming. "It's because she missed out on me. She missed my first steps and my first word and all that shit—all that's left is me. And that's not enough for her."

Regina looked stricken. Almost confused. She shook her head. "No, she wouldn't say that. She's Snow White. She's been… innocence and light for as long as I can remember. She'd love you if you were covered in blood and screaming obscenities."

"Oh, I didn't have to do all that to disappoint her." Emma did a little curtsy. "I just had to be myself."

Emma turned to leave, to flee, but found Regina's hand cinched around her wrist. Regina was pulling her close. "What did you say to her?"

"What do you think? Nothing."

Regina shook her head. "She had no right to say those things, in your presence or anywhere at all. No right. If you spoke that way about Henry, I would rip your face off."

"Yeah, well, that's why you're the Evil Queen and I'm a Charming."

Pulling her hand free, Emma stomped back toward camp. She had to see her parents again—had to let them banish this lead in her heart with whatever strange alchemy their true love gave them. She just had to remember how lucky she was—she had parents, they really did love her, they hadn't abandoned her, they hadn't wanted to abandon her—she had to remind herself of everything she'd gained and everything she had to lose.

But Regina ran after her, grabbing hold of her hand again.

"Stop it, Regina."

"I'm not playing anymore," Regina said. Her voice was lighter again. Much lighter. Almost like a child's. "Emma, please listen."

Emma broke a little. She'd been breaking a little bit every time she talked about this, every time she let it out of her memories and allowed it to scorch the earth on its way free. "What!? You think this makes us allies? You think I want to help you get some stupid revenge against Mary-Margaret, is that it? I can handle this. If they want me to be a big sister, fine. Better that than an orphan."

"I said listen." Regina's voice was darkening now—half her and half someone else. Someone Emma almost didn't recognize. "You have the right to feel anger. And sadness and bitterness and hatred. That doesn't make you evil. It doesn't make you like me."

"Then what does, huh?"

"Letting that anger control you." Regina looked down at her hand encircling Emma's. She squeezed it, like she was telling one of them the other was still there. "I had a right to be angry with Snow White for what she did. What I didn't have was the right to use that anger to hurt people. It ended up costing me so much more than your mother ever did. But Emma, denying your anger gives it just as much power over you as giving into it. Keeping it all locked up inside—what do you think I tried to do before I became this way?"

Emma looked down at Regina's hand as well. Safer than her face. That soft, sure grip felt like a tether, keeping her grounded when all the energy inside her wanted to rocket her up into the sky. "I feel like if I started letting my anger out, I couldn't stop. That's how it worked in prison. You wanted to curse and throw things around and hit something, but if you did, you ended up in solitary."

"You're not in prison. You're with me." Regina let go of Emma's hand. "Let it out, Emma. It's not like I'm going to think less of you than I do now."

Emma managed a grin. Same old Regina. It was almost comforting. "'Let it out.' Okay. You tried to blow up the fucking town. You killed Greg's father. Everything that led up to Henry being taken, that's on you. And sometimes the only way I can keep from jamming a knife into your heart is by thinking that you can help get him back."

Regina nodded. "I feel the same way."

"No, I hate all of you. All of you fairy tales. For giving me this destiny and these enemies and all this shit when all I've wanted was a family. But now that I've got that, they have all these strings attached. I can't just leave. I can either be some mystical Savior or I can be alone."

Emma's face was burning hot—she could imagine it sizzling like a skillet—but she couldn't think of how to cool it down.

"I hate Gold for making you this way and I hate Mary-Margaret for not killing you when she had the chance. I hate Hook for suddenly making me his big motivation to be a good person, like I ever wanted that, and I hate Neal for conspiring to throw me into some grand destiny like all the rest of you!"

She didn't feel any shame or embarrassment confessing this to Regina; either she didn't care what Regina thought or Regina wouldn't judge her. Either way, some of the walls she'd erected to stop herself from saying these things, from being the type of person to say these things, failed her. She began to sob between her words, as if her body was trying to choke them before they could escape her throat, but they came anyway.

"And I hate myself for feeling this way when everyone is trying so hard to just fucking love me and I hate Henry. I hate him for making me feel this shitty when I can still get him back and I hate him because I won't be able to live with myself if he dies. I hate David for staying on this fucking island when I still need him and I hate Mary-Margaret—I hate my mom because she's supposed to love me, she's supposed to just love me, but she doesn't and I don't know how to ask her to and I don't know what she wants from me and I don't know how to give it to her, I just—just—"

Suddenly Emma was inside-out: releasing all of this had created a vacuum in her. She needed to fill it with anything, even pain. Her vision blurred with tears, she pushed past Regina to a tree behind her and slammed her fist into it. The punch locked up her knuckles and rocketed up her arm. She punched it with her other arm—yes, good. She punched it again, and again, bloodying her knuckles, snapping her arm muscles like piano wire, making her lungs and heart expand to fill the emptiness in her heart with their racing.

"Emma, stop!" Regina's voice came distantly, like rain against a window, and Emma ignored it. "Emma, you'll hurt yourself!" It wasn't even as loud as the voices in Emma's head, the recrimination—you hate your mother you hate your father what kind of girl hates their parents you hate your son you hate the father of your child what's wrong with you?

Suddenly arms were wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her sides up like handcuffs around her body. She was pulled backward, struggling, racked with sobs and her own frantic attempts to escape—a broken-down machine shaking itself apart. She threw Regina off-balance and the two crashed to the ground. Emma kicked and pitched, but Regina struggled with her until she had Emma's legs pinched between her own. Emma was locked up in Regina, encased in her. The violence in her body had nowhere else to go. It escaped through her mouth in a deafening scream.

Then Emma just cried. The only comfort came from the tightness of Regina's limbs around her—the knowledge that she wasn't alone. That even someone like Regina was there for her. Slowly, carefully, Regina loosened her grip. Her arms and legs detached from Emma, but didn't go far. Regina stroked Emma's bare arms, lightly but soothingly, and pressing her forehead to the back of Emma's neck. She began to sing softly.

Flower gleam and glow,

Let your power shine,

Make the clock reverse,

Bring back what once was mine.

Heal what has been hurt,

Change the fate's design,

Save what has been lost,

Bring back what once was mine,

What once was mine.

When she was done, Emma felt not empty, but… weighted. Like a glass with a finger of water in it. There was room for more, so much more, but at least it wasn't just an empty glass.

She tried to move to wipe her eyes, but Regina was still lightly holding her arms. For some reason, Regina moved for her, wiping her eyes with a handkerchief of all things.

"Didn't figure you for the singing type," Emma said when she'd caught her breath.

"It was something I used to sing to Henry when he had a bad dream. I figured, it worked on him… like mother, like son."

"Yeah, it… helped." Emma took another deep breath. Filling herself up, just for a moment. "Rapunzel?"

"Yeah."

"Let me guess: she befriended my mother and you tried to kill her."

"Actually, we were lovers."

Emma squeaked with half-hearted laughter. "Get real."

"I'm serious."

"Yeah. You had sex with Rapunzel, while Pocahontas watched, I'm sure."

"You laugh, but I—"

David came crashing through the undergrowth. Seeing Regina with her arms wrapped around Emma, he drew his sword. "Get your hands off her."

Emma untangled herself from Regina—not as fast as she once would've, but briskly. "Relax, she was just—"

"We heard a scream!" Mary-Margaret came out of the jungle with an arrow drawn. "Your hands are bloody."

"Oh, I…"

Regina dusted herself off as she got up. "Learning magic can be a dangerous business, particularly for such a hapless student as your daughter. You're lucky she's so—intact."

"If you hurt our daughter again, Regina, I'll personally—"

"You're the ones who hurt me!" Emma stepped forward while her parents were still taken aback, barely noticing that she'd placed herself between Regina and the bared weapons. "You, David, keeping this secret from me, from all of us, so we had to find out like we did! And you—" She stared at Mary-Margaret almost apologetically for a moment, but her face hardened. She let go of her anger like it was burning her hand. "Mary-Margaret, you don't get to say I'm not good enough for you. I've done everything I can for you. I broke the Curse, I got us back to Storybrooke, and that's not enough for you because you didn't get to change my diapers?"

Her words didn't burn; they dripped with sadness. They came out of her weighted down and laden, and she didn't think she'd be able to get any more of them out if she didn't suddenly feel Regina's hand at the small of her back. Heard some of Regina's words from earlier, as sad as hers were now.

You think you're the only one who's tried changing herself to get her parents to accept her?

"I know you missed out on a lot of the things that made me who I am. But this is who I am, and I'm here now. You have me, now. And if you want to have another baby, that's fine. But don't tell me… don't tell me you didn't get to hear my first words like it's my fault. You made the choice to send me away. You don't think I would've wanted to be in whatever fucked-up life the Curse would've given me if it meant I got to see you every day? I wanted my parents to love me. I still do."

Mary-Margaret had been frozen as Emma spoke, the bow in her hand pulled taut. Now she finally relaxed the bowstring. It dropped to the ground as she and David collapsed in on Emma, embracing her. Regina took a step away as the three of them held each other. Emma was the only one who didn't cry. She was out of tears.

"I'm sorry," Regina heard Mary-Margaret say, walking back to camp. "I'm so sorry."

Emma laid awake that night. Maybe the emotional purging of the evening had helped her parents find sleep, but it just left her feeling wrung out. A rope not holding up any weight, but pulled taut nonetheless. She stared at the embers of the fire. Focused. Concentrated. For a moment, a flame leapt up.

"We'll make a witch out of you yet." Emma whirled around to see Regina, her eyes closed in an approximation of sleep, but her smile very awake. "More than you already are, I mean."

Emma smiled. Funny, how endearing Regina's sarcasm could be when you knew she didn't quite mean it. "I thought you were asleep."

"I don't sleep. Not these days."

Emma knew what she meant. Henry. "We'll find him."

"Yes. And with training, perhaps you can even light one of the Lost Boys' cigarettes."

"Thank you. For today."

Regina shook her head dismissively. "Everyone deserves a parent's love."

"What about you?"

"That ship has sailed."

"I mean, you deserve some love. Even if you can't get it from Cora… I mean, maybe I can…"

"I'd like that." Regina's eyes opened softly. "Us orphans have to stick together."

"Yeah." Emma was silent for a long time. Watching the fire die back down. "Regina?"

"Yes, 'sweetie'?" Regina replied, her patience straining.

Baby steps, Emma thought.

"Could you sing to me again? Please?"

Regina got up from her usual lonely bed and went to Emma's side, crouching down beside her. Emma felt a little tingle, like you got from being on the other side of the bars of a tiger at the zoo. Sometimes it seemed you shouldn't be able to get so close to something so dangerous.

"You know I named Henry after my father?"

"I know," Emma said.

"Growing up, he was the only person who showed me any real love. When I sang that to our Henry, I suppose I was asking for it back. A son's love, a father's love—any love."

"Why are you telling me this?" Emma asked, doing her best to keep her voice soft and quiet. Best not to alarm the tiger.

"Was there ever a time when you thought—the two of us—we could be friends?"

"A few," Emma admitted. "Times I thought you weren't so bad. That maybe I was just being immature by antagonizing you. Then something always happened to make me feel so damn right in hating you." Emma shook her head. "That's the kind of person I talked about; the angry person I don't want to be. I don't want to look for reasons to hate you anymore."

"I don't want to give you reasons." Regina laid down across from Emma—like they were at a slumber party, Emma thought with an almost-giggle. "I can't forgive your mother for what she did. I can't forgive your father for helping her. But I can forgive you."

Somehow, that meant a lot to Emma. The angriest person she'd ever known wasn't angry at her. It was a start. Of what, Emma didn't know.

"Close your eyes," Regina said softly. Almost sweetly. "Let me sing you to sleep."