A/N: This story came from an anon prompt I did on Tumblr. You are more than welcome to follow me there at: burningexistence. I don't own anything affiliated with OUAT. I wrote this piece to the song called, "9 Crimes" by Damien Rice. Hope you enjoy –BurningExistence

Scars

"It's our scars, Emma," she said, taking the woman's hands in her own, "that make us who we are." She let go for a moment to put her fingers under Emma's chin and raise her head. "Look at me."

But Emma couldn't see through the tears. She couldn't calm her heart and she certainly couldn't look at the beautiful woman in front of her.

"No, look at me!" She dropped Regina's hand and began to trace the faint, white lines that ran down her arm. "Look at these!" she said. "These make me who I am? These are nothing but reminders!"

Regina grabbed the woman's face gently between her hands and looked deep into the stunning green depths that finally looked back.

"Yes, they are reminders," she said, letting go of Emma and grabbing her arm. "They remind me—"

she places her lips to a long, thin scar on the top of Emma's arm and kisses

"—that you are beyond—"

she kisses another scar on her elbow

"—beautiful and anything I—"

Regina trails her lips down another scar on the bottom of her arm

"—ever imagined."

She looks back up at Emma and then raises her body off the floor to sit next to her on the couch.

"You are stunning, Emma. And these scars are a part of you. They are a part of me. I would not have you any—"

she kisses the woman's lips

"—other—"

and then she kisses the tears from her cheeks

"—way."

And finally, Emma smiles.

"My life is better with you, Regina," she says, reaching out her fingers. "I don't know how I was ever lucky enough to deserve you, but I couldn't imagine anything else." She tenderly places her fingers on the scar above Regina's lip.

"Now, it's my turn," she says, as she leans in closer and inhales the scent of apples and cider. She places her lips on the scar and kisses it gently – again, and again, and again.

"You—"

Emma's hands run the length of the mayor's arms

"—are my happy—"

She places another kiss on the scar, but then slides her lips down to meet those waiting

"—ending."

And together they fall backwards against the cushions.