The plague hit Storybrooke like an ice storm. Hearts rotted from the inside out. At first, no one could figure out where it was coming from or how it chose its victims, but eventually, the town discovered its origins. Zelena. It preyed on the lost, the loneliest creatures, the broken-hearted. First came the cough, then bleeding from the nose, then the poor soul would be bed-ridden for a few days, and as the infection worked its way through their body, they would lose the ability to speak. In the end, tears of blood would trickle from the eyes and stain the individual's cold, pale cheeks. Blindness would follow. Eventually, the heart would turn to ash and crumble inside the chest cavity, leaving cold, lifeless blood sitting stagnant in the veins.
Families were safe, they discovered, their love binding them together and warding their hearts against the evil. But the disheartened... they quickly became weak. The sound of the cough was the knocking of death at the door, and there was no escape. No spells nor enchantments could fight off the infection. Only love could steel the heart against its grip.
Being disheartened by the curse, many fell ill and passed away within days of contracting the affliction. Henry clung to his parents, frightened of the disease, and his love guarded them against the witch's wickedness. But soon, one of his mothers began to cough.
"I don't understand," Henry sobbed into his mothers chest. "We love you."
Regina said nothing. She was resigned to her fate. Unlike Henry, she understood the cause of her illness, but refused to provide a confession. The others, greatly confused by the circumstance, pressed her for answers, but she denied them.
"I don't know," she lied. "Perhaps the illness has gained strength."
"Then we would all be ill," Charming protested.
"Charming," she hissed. "I don't know!"
The fit of coughing that followed intensified Henry's sobs as he knelt by her bedside, squeezing her hand.
"I don't want you to go," he told her, looking up at her with tears in his eyes, fully understanding that she was locked in death's grip.
Behind him, Emma stood watching, staying silent. It wasn't her place to butt in, she told herself, resisting the urge to demand a more sincere answer. She could sense the lie. It was her super power, and it hadn't failed her yet.
The days went by slowly. Regina was in agonizing pain. Henry stayed close by her bedside, but Emma noiselessly lurked in the shadows, keeping her presence unknown. Each day that passed, she watched over the queen, giving Henry water to bring to her as dehydration set in. Each meal she prepared with care, but made sure that her son was the one to bring it to Regina. Charming and Snow did what they could to make her comfortable, but they couldn't stop the inevitable. Then, Emma took to sleeping on the couch, just feet away from Regina's bed.
One night, when they were all asleep, Emma woke to the sound of crying.
"Regina?" she whispered, tossing the covers off and sitting up on the couch.
The crying didn't stop, so she stood and made her way to Regina's bedside and, even in the dark, saw the cold, red tears.
"Oh, God," she breathed, reaching out to wipe them away with gentle fingers. "Regina."
Emma knelt beside her and took her hand, and Regina was too weak to pull away.
Just barely still able to talk, Regina whispered back Emma's name and squeezed her eyes shut.
"It burns. It's burning my cheeks, but it's cold. I'm so cold."
Quickly, Emma let go of her hand and jumped up to grab a blanket, draping it over Regina's body and tucking it into her sides. When she knelt back down, Regina found the strength to reach up and take her hand again, giving it a weak squeeze that took more effort than she had left to give.
"Emma," the queen whispered again, sweat covering her brow.
"What is it, Gina?"
"I'm afraid."
"I know. I'm scared for you, too, but... but... you can fight this. Just stay strong, okay? You can beat this. You're Regina Mills. You can beat anything."
"No, Emma. Not this. I'm not scared of this. I'm not afraid to die."
Confused, Emma pressed, "Then what are you afraid of?"
Regina's eyes opened, blood still staining her cheeks.
"I'm afraid of losing you."
Silence fell between them as Emma took in the woman's words and turned them over in her mind. Surely, this was just a dream.
"Tell me why you're sick," the blonde finally demanded, squeezing Regina's hand tightly.
Hesitantly, Regina decided to tell one last truth before she passed.
"I love you, Emma, and you'll never love me back. Nothing can make the heart weaker than unrequited love."
"But, Regina," Emma began softly, "don't you see? It's not unrequited."
The blonde leaned in, pressing her lips softly to Regina's forehead. Feeling this, Regina found her heart swelling, bursting out of her chest, filling with blood it pumped quickly through her veins like sudden fire as the muscle raced.
"You can't mean that."
Ignoring her protest, Emma hovered her lips above Regina's and whispered, "I love you."
The life that filled her made Regina gasp and suck in a deep, shaky breath as she felt her vitality building. The tears dried on their own, and her fading sight returned just enough for her to gaze into the savior's eyes and see the truth in her words. The blood washed away the ash in her chest and the aching in her throat, leaving her healed by the newly-found love that wrapped its arms around her.
"It was me," Emma gasped. "All you needed was me."
"You're the savior, Emma," Regina said with a smile, this time crying from joy, "and I love you."