She's an idiot.
That's the second coherent thought Regina has, as she runs into Robin's arms, and turns around, watching the darkness and the woman now standing in the epicentre of the storm.
For her.
Robin's hands encircle her waist, and she thinks it's a good thing, because the more she watches, the harder it is to do nothing, to let the darkness take her without stopping it.
But she did it for her, and the last thing she wants to do is invalidate that.
But that's her second thought. Her first thought, as she steps forward, arm extended up and towards her, dagger clutched tightly and determination in her green eyes, is to wonder what is she doing?
She cannot believe what she is seeing in front of her, and so, as the darkness lets go of her, hungrily circling around her, Regina stumbles back a step and stares in utter confusion and disbelief at the woman in front of her.
Emma.
What is she doing? Why, when this is Emma, and their relationship has always been… complicated.
Emma, the woman she spent the better part of a year trying to either kill, or drive out of town. Emma, who came closest to stealing her happiness — what was left of it anyway — in Henry; the only family she will ever know.
But it is also Emma, who had believed in her. Emma, who's been trying to get close to her. Emma, with shots, lunches, everyone deserves their happy ending and I was just looking for you to be my friend.
And Regina supposes that they are friends now. But Regina has never had a friend before. Not like this, never like this, never a real friend; and so she doesn't know what to say or do. No one, not even Cora or her father, has ever put her first like this, and now she's found someone who will, and she doesn't know if she wants it, because it's Emma and she's about to lose her because they're friends who do impossible things for each other.
Beautiful, brilliant, vibrant Emma. And she's giving it all up for her.
And maybe it was better, easier, less painful not to have this kind of friend, this kind of connection with someone, in her life. And yet she doesn't quite know what this means, because she's seen Snow with her friends, and she doesn't know if Ariel would do the same for her friend. Maybe she'd stick a fork into the tormentor of her friend, forsaking her legs, but somehow this feels different, it feels more.
And maybe this is just Emma being Emma, but somehow she doesn't think that's it, and she thinks of smiles and our son, and light touches, and unconditional trust, and drinking buddies, and her desperation at the thought of Emma's soul being endangered, and she knows.
Because Emma isn't just giving up her happy ending (and she heard her whispered confession to the pirate, so she knows, and yet why would she give up love for her? Regina doesn't understand, not at all, she isn't worth it), she's also giving up her soul, the very thing that made her… her.
And she's not worth it, she deserves to be punished for all she has done, so why is Emma doing this? As she stands there, bewildered, her eyes fly to the darkness, now surrounding Emma, and trying to see beyond it, to the beautiful, courageous, incredible, stupid woman in the middle of it. She's always prided herself of having a perfect poker face in place at all times throughout her reign — nothing could shake her mask. She thought she'd seen it all in her life — the highest peaks of love in the two idiots she's come to see as family, and the deepest levels of hell in her own hatred and despair. But this, this is something else entirely, and it scares her, because she doesn't know how to react to the intensity she saw in jade eyes the second before she shot her arm up, taking her burden away. She thinks she's seen it before in Snow when she's looking at the second idiot, and maybe she remembers a look like that, once upon a time on a starry night, the smell of horses around her, and a ring on her finger, but no, no she's seeing things…
And she remembers, with a pang, hateful words said when she didn't mean them, you've never had my back and you never will. She never apologised for that, even though she knows that Emma understands. She always has, and, she thinks, maybe she always will.
Special. Unique.
True love is magic.
She'd told Snow that once, on that fated night, and she can almost smell the horses, but no, that's not right, because Daniel is dead, and Robin is her true love.
And yet…
And now here she stands, in Robin's arms, regretting running to him, feeling like a fraud, as she surges forward, and his arms tighten around her, constricting, and she doesn't know if she clings to him or is trying to push him away, she can't think clearly, because Emma just did the unthinkable, and the pirate hasn't said a word since she pushed him away just before, and he doesn't look too torn up, and she can't understand anything anymore, she just doesn't know. They're back in Storybrooke, but she still feels like she's trapped in an alternate reality or a nightmare, and maybe she'll wake up in the morning, or Henry will fix this, and oh god.
Henry.
How will she ever be able to look him in the eye again, how will she be able to tell him that his hero sacrificed herself for her, and she did nothing?
She opens her mouth, she's not sure what she's going to say, but then the pillar of darkness shoots up, and she's looking up, terrified because she's too late, too late, too late and there's a flash of light and the dagger falls to the ground in a too-loud clatter in the sudden quiet of the street.
She can feel her knees give out. Emma is nowhere to be seen, but she knows, she knows that the dagger now holds a different name, and no no no, it wasn't supposed to be like this.
She's an idiot. And she's sobbing and she doesn't know if she's thinking of herself or Emma anymore, and she can't stop.
She's an idiot. They both are.