A/N: I had to get this out of my head. I'm so sorry to anyone that's waiting for an update for Something!

Sometimes a Freight Train Hits You

When you have enough alcohol in your system, you decide that it's time. It's time to let go of your childish ways, stop ignoring her, stop trying to pretend you don't care. Because you know you do care. You've always cared and it's that thought that nauseates you and excites you.

The sad part is when you came back to Storybrooke, the first place you went was your parents but that wasn't what you really wanted to do. It was what you should do and that is what you always do. What you should do.

And then as time went on and you heard more about her relationship with Robin and you saw them together and really? A man in tights? Honestly? This is your competition?

When that word rolls through your head - Competition - you know you're in way over your head. Deep is not even the right word to describe how far in you are.

There's a moment when she's actually talking to her secretary that you falter. Your heart is in your throat and honestly, you would back down now and jump from this sinking ship, but you have jumped off of a fucking pirate ship before and you know what waits for you in the dark waters. And who the hell wants to drown in the middle of the winter?

You watch her as she talks, the man speaking with her leaning in. Whatever she is saying she's saying it with such civility and kindness that you're pretty sure this is actually a pod person and not the woman you've gotten to know over the past couple of years.

Years.

It's actually been years. You never thought you'd make it past the first one and now it's been multiple ones…

Your mind races with the images of all the moments you've shared. The touches, the lingering looks, the fights, the text messages, the insane amount of unintentional flirting. You know in your heart of hearts that none of this should be happening and you shouldn't be feeling these feelings and you certainly shouldn't be contemplating telling her. In fact, if you didn't have the six vodka tonics in your system you'd be turning around and leaving this god forsaken bar and heading straight for your comfortable bed with your down blanket and fleece sheets.

She glances over at you, her eyes wide. She knows you're looking at her. She probably sensed it. She typically does. And she always catches you. It doesn't matter when or where or how, but she always knows.

She mouths the words, "Save me," at you and for a split second you think maybe she isn't looking at you and is actually saying that to Robin. But then you remember. Robin is drunk already, laughing with his merry men, playing darts because of course he likes to show off about 'hitting the mark'. And Regina? She still doesn't really have friends. Maybe Snow, which is so weird for you now. And you. You are her friend. And, even though it's taken some time to get used to this, you are her savior. You save her. Time and time again.

Something inside of you finally makes your legs move and you take one step closer, wrap your fingers around her wrist and pull on her. "Come with me," you say. "I have to tell you something."

And now's your time to shine. But really? Really? Is this a good idea? Probably not. It's never a good idea to corner her and lay heavy shit on her. It's a stupid idea and you know it. But when you get to the other side of the bar and you spin around to look at her and she breathes and breathes and breathes, you don't give a flying fuck what your head is telling you to do. You are listening to your heart right now.

And maybe your hormones, but whatever.

She smiles at you, "Thank you. I had to get away from him. Too many work discussions happening right now." She leans against the wood paneling in the bar and as she raises her glass up to her lips, dark whiskey swirling around a couple of ice cubes, her eyebrow lifts and her eyes are shining.

"Yeah, no problem," you mumble quickly finding a reason to tear your eyes from hers. Ever since you got back to Storybrooke, ever since you saved them all again, ever since you started doing dinners on Wednesdays with her and Henry, you've felt different towards her. At first, you thought it was the curse. It had to be. She implanted new memories and maybe some of those memories didn't die when you drank that potion that Hook gave you. Maybe she was clever enough to make sure that when you remembered you remembered her with fondnessinstead of disdain. But as time passed, and things were better and Henry was growing up, you started to know in the depths of your soul that she loves him as much as you, if not more than you. That thought was hard to stomach at first. When it crept into your mind, you were almost sick at the thought that anyone could love him more than you. You almost lost your lunch that day in the diner when Ruby nudged you to look at them as they sat together at the bar top, her looking at him, before he even had his memories back of her. It was startling and heartbreaking and for the first time in forty forevers you felt a familiar stirring in your own chest. Something different than Hook and Walsh and certainly different than Neal, but you shook your head and you carried on and you remembered that you gave Henry life, but she made him live it.

When she looks at him, though… And you see the person that no one else ever saw. You don't ever see what they see. You always see the mother that raised your son. You see someone who found love when the odds were so stacked against her.

"Are you okay?"

The sound of her voice breaks you out of your reverie and for at least 5 seconds you focus on her lips before looking up into her dark, dark, dark eyes. Those eyes have seen so much and have been capable of bringing peasants and kings to their knees. And all you want to do right now is look at them… Look at her and her beautiful face and that goddamn scar on her lip that you've done nothing but think about kissing since well before being friendly was even an option. "I like you, Regina," you say, leaning in a little to make sure she hears you.

Those red lips turn upwards into a grin and of course she's smiling at you. "I like you, too, Miss Swan," she says. She still calls you Miss Swan from time to time and even though at first you hated it, it's really growing on you. It's her own version of a pet name, it feels, and besides being a complete turn on, it's also so very sweet that you aren't really sure how to deal with it.

"No, I mean," you pause and glance around the bar. No one is looking at you - Thank God - but everyone is there - Snow and David and Ruby and Belle (also what is going on with them?) and Hook and Tink (you're not as jealous as you should be when he leans over and moves her hair away from her face with his hook) and Neal (whose face lit up when you asked if he had heard from Wendy Darling lately) - and you wish you would have made yourself find this streak of courage about 6 hours earlier as you were picking her up in your 'deathtrap of a car'. "No. That's not… No. I like like you," you finally finish.

"Emma," she starts and you immediately stop her.

"I know. It's crazy. God, it's SO CRAZY. It's not something I wanted to happen. Believe me! I've fought it and have clearly looked for all of your imperfections and have tried to focus on anything negative and all I've found… Christ, Regina, all I've found is that everything that is wrong is so very right." You look at her face when those words come out of your mouth. It's clear that you've shocked her. But really? How could this be a shock?

"What am I supposed to do with this information?" she asks with a face that looks like you just told her that her pet died.

"Well, you could respond?" It's not really a question, but your voice raises a bit at the end and you try your hardest to find something to focus on so you don't start crying. You don't fucking cry because of Regina Mills any longer. You don't. And even if you do, you certainly don't in front of her.

You see her hand move to push her hair behind her ear. It's a new thing she started doing once she started to let you see the real her. It's cute and hot and why did she never do it before you'll never know. She runs her own fingers down her cheek and then along her jaw line and really, Regina? Really?

Sometimes a freight train hits you and sometimes it passes you by. Today, you've never been more happy that you're standing on the tracks because when she finally moves and leans in towards you, her lips brushing against yours in the most fantastically romantic way you've ever been lip-brushed before, you know you'll never forget the way this freight train of hope and courage feels.

Her lips finally crash fully into yours and seriously? They taste like cinnamon and apples. Apples. For Christ's sake. Apples…

She pulls away after gently grabbing onto your bottom lip. Yes, you almost lose your balance and even though earlier you were thanking God for vodka tonics, you're certainly glad you didn't have seven or eight because you'd be going down. And quickly.

"Regina," you whisper.

"That's my response," she says, but she's against your ear now and then before she pulls away she says, with that smoky voice you love, "Let me figure this out with him."

"Why did you have to start with him in the first place?" you ask, your voice cracking with emotion. You're whining and you know it's unattractive, but who cares?

She pulls back so she can look in your eyes and she takes your free hand, the one not holding your vodka tonic like a lifeline, places it right on her chest, right over her heart. Her eyes are so dark, so beautiful, and so full of love that you're pretty sure your heart is going to break. "You may have just figured this all out, Miss Swan, but I knew the moment you brought our son home from Boston." She smiles at you, those full, red lips framing her beautiful teeth, but it's a sad smile. "Letting Henry go meant letting you go, as well. I had to fill that void. And even though I tried, I never truly did."

You start to say her name but she turns her head to look away from you. Her eyes have found Robin and youknow. You know that this will hurt him way more than it will hurt her. Her hand lands on yours that's holding onto your drink. She moves it up to your wrist, squeezes lightly and then turns to leave.

You watch her walk away, her black pencil skirt, her black nylons, her black knee high boots.

Sometimes a freight train hits you.