Alright. This is not the first OUAT fic I wanted to post. I had others planned, big plans for this summer with two great fics, one Evilcharming, one OutlawQueen. But last night's episode killed me. I love Regina, I'm proud of how she has grown during those three seasons and I empathize a great deal with the Evil Queen. Regina is my favorite. I love the show because of her. Last night was unnecessary cruel and downright unfair to her. She does not deserve this. So my take is very depressing, be warned. I needed an outlet. Sorry.

Warning: Major Character Death

Chapter one: The Queen is dead

You see him look at her like he never looked at you before, like she was the sun, the sky and the stars above, like she was the reason there was a goddamn earth in the first place.

You can't stand to look at Miss Swan; that damn, dumb blond bitch. So much like her mother, never, ever thinking about the consequences of her actions, never believing that some lines aren't meant to be crossed, but crossing them all the same.

You can't bring yourself to look at the Charmings, and their brand new baby Neal, but you manage to catch Snow's horrified look and the anger that flashes through David's eyes when he looks at Emma. They know this is wrong. Some lines must not ever be crossed.

You take a shuddering breath and the sound is lost among Robin's sobs and Marian's trembling laugh. You are suffering. You are suffering so much.

You find the strength to turn away and you head to the door, but not before Hook sends you a look of deep pity mingled with remorse and you want to hurt him, you want to hurt him for daring pitying you, for helping his insipid girlfriend bringing back someone that should have stayed dead.

Every step is torture, every breath is unwanted, but you make it outside and halfway down the street before you feel a hand on your arm. You did not see Henry running after you; you did not saw him pushing Emma away with hissed words of anger and a mild disgusted look towards the renewed Locksleys before he took off after you.

You take his hand off your arm and into your own hand and you stay silent. You just walk and walk and walk, until the two of you finally reach the house.

You enter. You close the door. You look at him, and you don't feel anything.

He's looking right back at you though, he's looking at you like he saw you die, and why is that? You wonder. Did you die? Did you die today?

And now he framing your face with trembling hands and then, your son, your wonderful, kind, good son tells you sorry, sorry, sorry, Mom.

And you collapse.

Your knees gave out, they hit the floor so hard your entire being rattles and Henry follows you down, of course he does, and holds you tight, so tight and his hand is going through your hair in a soothing way, the way yours always did during those ten years you raised him while he raised you up, all unknowing.

Your breath hitches, you fight it, it hitches again and your throat is closing and suddenly you can't breathe, you can't think, you can't see and you fight all of this but your body fights back and you know, you know it's tired of taking blow after blow, you know it aches for release, any kind of release and suddenly you are done.

You forget what your son means to you when you fling yourself away from him, and you don't hear his scream when you wrench your heart, that hideous, pitiful, treacherous thing, out of your chest.

You start to squeeze it, you intend to crush it, be done with it, because why not? Why not?

Henry knocks you over. He hurls himself at you and lands on top of you, breathing hard, shouting things you cannot make sense of and crying. He's crying, he's crying so hard and his face is above yours and it feels like it's raining.

He's crying when he takes your heart and kisses it, like one would kiss a booboo better, You look back up at Henry and he's crying when he pushes your heart back inside of your chest and you wonder when he got the ability to do so. He crying when he asks you, begs you not to kill yourself and he's telling you he needs you, he needs you alive and with him but you are just so tired. You are so tired and you're bleeding inside. You just want it to stop.

You tell him so.

He cries harder.

But you're his mother, you are his mother, more so than Miss Swan will ever dream to be, so you put your arms around him and hold him and you don't like how frail and small and broken you are, you don't like how your arms tremble and your heart and your soul are loathing you for forcing them into this life still, but you cannot seek oblivion because Henry is your son and you are his mother and you love him.

But oh, how you wish otherwise.

Hours later, Henry is lying with you in your giant, cold bed and it took some convincing to get him to sleep, to persuade him that you were not going to kill yourself while he slept. Outside it starts to snow and you briefly wonder about that because you know it's not supposed to. It's May, and it may be Maine, but even in Maine snowing this late into spring is anything but normal. But you'll be glad if you never saw the sun again, so you let it go.

You are spread next to your son, still, and you wish Zelena succeeded; you wish you were never born. You used to wish for happiness. You know better now.

You are spread next to Henry and find yourself grateful that he could cry the tears you have not, for you are no longer capable of such a thing.

You are spread next to the only true love of your life and you frown, let out a startled breath. Then a confused one. Then a painful one.

You close your eyes as pain overtakes your body, starting with your left arm and insinuating itself into every fiber of your battered being.

You turn your head towards Henry because you want your boy to be the last thing you see before the end. Always.

You close your eyes and your heart gives out. At last