"It's time," Belle said, looking up from her wristwatch.

Regina took a breath, meeting the eyes of everyone gathered one by one: Snow, fiercely determined and hopeful; Emma, eyes haunted, hefting the sword they were almost certain she wouldn't need; Zelena, torn somewhere between guilt and anticipation; and Belle, collected but obviously worried.

Between the four of them they almost covered everything Regina herself was feeling… except the sickly dread that it would work, they'd reach the end of the rope, but it still wouldn't be enough for Robin, in the end.

"All right," she said, tucking the spool of thread that should keep them from getting lost into her pocket. "Let's go."

She nodded at Belle, and Belle took the proffered end of the spool, tying it around her wrist. The spool flashed with a golden light.

Regina waited until the light settled into a steady glow and brought up her silver knife, cutting a shallow slice into her thumb and holding the knife out to Emma.

"Emma," Snow prompted, and Emma took the knife and cut into her own thumb. She met Regina's eyes and together they stretched their hands out over a circle of symbols carved into the wood floor, work that had taken Regina and Zelena months to complete.

The two drops fell almost simultaneously, and Emma gasped as the magic hit her-she still reacted like a novice every time, and Zelena rolled her eyes. Regina ignored her and the sliver of doubt she felt at having Emma anchor the spell with her instead of Zelena. Zelena was a little more powerful, a little more experienced and stable... but it just hadn't felt right to have Zelena be so involved, not considering what they were planning to do. If she could have, Mal would have been here instead, but the magic that meant she was alive wasn't supposed to work where they were going. The thread was a safety line, but it was no sure thing.

Besides, Emma had her own reasons for doing this.

Regina controlled her own reaction as the magic rushed out and into the floor beneath them, maintaining her focus. This had to work. It was a one-shot solution-if it didn't work now, today, for the first time, this door would be closed forever.

If they failed, hopefully the thread would be enough to bring them back.

Beneath her feet, the markings glowed brighter and brighter, shifting and warping until it was too bright to look at and Regina had to close her eyes. Even behind her closed eyelids she could see their shapes, or the shape of the brightness-and the brightness was gone.

She opened her eyes. At her feet was a staircase leading down, looking like rough-hewn stone, circular, and dark.

Without a word, she took the spool of thread in her left hand, and held out her right.

Snow grasped it, Emma taking her free hand, then Zelena taking Emma's. Belle moved to stand at the very edge of the staircase, so close that Regina had to brush against her as she moved to the first step.

"Thank you," Regina said, almost whispering.

Belle just nodded. Regina turned forward and concentrated. She took the first step, holding her breath, but it felt solid, sounded real when her heel touched it. Snow's hand in hers was warm, comforting, and she began to descend slowly.

The first few steps she could still see the light from above, but one full turn and she was in the dark-or not quite, as there seemed to be a diffuse light. She could see the steps and the walls at first, and then, looking back, she realized she could see the faces of her companions-though all her surroundings were washed out, grey.

When Belle had first told her, that there was a tiny, impossibly slight chance of-not bringing Robin back, but rescuing his soul and giving him the forever he deserved-Regina had known she would try. She just hadn't known that she would have help.

There was no guidebook, no obvious end to the stairs, and soon Regina's muscles began to twitch from the overuse.

"From now on, I'm not skipping leg day," Emma said, breaking the silence.

"Me, neither," Snow said.

Zelena snorted. "Just wait until we have to go back up." Even so soon, she sounded winded.

Emma groaned. "Don't remind me."

"This place isn't even a real place, right?" Zelena asked.

"Right," Emma said. "Belle said it's a metaphor."

Regina sighed. "Physical manifestation of a metaphorical construct."

"That's what I said!"

Zelena said, "Right, metaphorical construct. Then why, please tell me, is it a staircase?"

Silence, then Snow said, "Well, it is called Below."

"It's not literal, really. It's not really… anywhere. It's a nothing space, a void. It's what's… underneath, figuratively underneath, the Underworld."

"And we can go there," Regina said.

"Yes."

"We're not actually Below," Regina said. "This is just… how we get there."

"It's creepy," Zelena said.

"Yes, thank you," Regina said.

"Maybe we should just concentrate on getting there," Snow said, diplomatically, giving Regina's hand a slight squeeze. She allowed herself to return the pressure, slightly. Of all of them, Snow was the one who would be attempting this, if it were David instead of Robin. She couldn't know, but Regina trusted her to understand.

They all settled into silence and kept descending.

There was no way to keep track of time, so Regina just kept a steady pace, stopping every now and then for a short rest to keep her legs from turning into complete jelly. It was getting harder to walk, and it was clear now that it wasn't just physical fatigue. Her lungs ached, but not as if she were out of breath-as if the air was slightly too thick.

She payed attention to the breathing of everyone behind her. Snow sounded fine, Emma sounded off, but Zelena was almost wheezing.

After several minutes of listening to Zelena, Regina halted again "Zelena, you're done."

"What?" Zelena said. "No, I'm fine." Contrary to her words, her face was ashen, her shoulders tense and trembling.

"You're not," Emma said. "We're going to need you to hold the line here."

Belle demonstrated the link between them and said, "The person at the end takes the brunt of the effect. When they can't go on, you tie them off with the rope and they'll become part of the anchor."

"So they go as far as they can? And then they can rest?"

Belle looked troubled. "The effect should stop as soon as they're tied into the rope, but there's so little written about this into the books… I just don't know. And once they're tied in, they can't move forward."

It might be too soon, but Regina wouldn't risk any of them if she had another option. She took the rope and looped it around Zelena's wrist. Emma let go of Zelena's hand and the rope's light flared briefly and settled.

Immediately Zelena looked better. She straightened and said, "Well? You better not just stand here looking at me!"

They moved. Before she turned the next corner, Regina looked back at Zelena, who looked worried until she saw Regina looking. She shifted so she looked bored and haughty, an exasperated older sister fed up with her annoying little sibling.

Regina smiled. Zelena almost smiled back.

Her legs felt like jelly now, but she kept moving, hoping that she wouldn't make a misstep, that she'd be able to keep going.

From the rear, Emma said, "Okay, this officially sucks. Much worse in the back."

"Emma!"

"Oh, I'm fine. I'm just preparing you for what's to come."

Snow's grip tightened. "I'll be fine."

Regina's world, already narrowed to the steps, to her companions, narrowed further until it was just the next step, and then it was just the movement of her legs-so when her foot struck hard, the impact jarred up her body and she jerked to a stop.

Snow bumped into her back and rebounded. Behind her, Emma cursed. "What's wrong?" Snow gasped.

Regina shook her head to clear it. "I think we reached the bottom." She turned and saw a long, sloping corridor, stretching ahead as far as they could see. She moved forward so Snow and Emma could both join her on solid ground.

Emma looked as grey as their surroundings, and as she moved forward she stumbled and pitched into the wall.

"Emma!"

"Don't let go!" Regina warned.

"Of course not!" Snow snapped, even as she tightened her grip.

Regina took the rope and reached down to loop it around Emma's wrist, but Emma batted it away.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," she said. She stood up, swaying.

"I don't think so," Regina said, and quickly looped it up and over.

"Hey!" Emma shook her arm, but it was too late. The light flared, and Emma's color returned.

"Hold here for us." Regina kept her eyes on Emma's, until Emma nodded and slumped against the wall.

"Are you okay?" Regina asked Snow.

Snow nodded. "Let's move."

Even though the corridor looked straight, it was only a little while before they could no longer see Emma when they looked back. This time Regina was aware of what Zelena and Emma had been feeling, and what Snow had to be feeling now. It was a heavy weight, constantly pressing on her shoulders. Until now, too, she'd shrugged off the atmosphere-the grey light, the blank walls, but now it became oppressive, eerie.

Only the thread looked solid, and only Snow's hand in hers felt real.

Snow held up longer than Regina would have thought possible, keeping a steady pace for so long that she wondered if she was going to make it the rest of the way. Even so, she eventually began to lag behind Regina, who was slowing down, too.

Finally, Snow touched her shoulder, panting. "I'm sorry, I can't-"

"It's okay," Regina said. "It can't be far, now."

Doubt, first, but then steady hope. "You'll find him," Snow said.

Regina shook her head. "I have to try." She looped the rope again, around Snow's wrist, and she let go of her hand.

The weight pressed down so fast and hard that Regina nearly stumbled. She looked up. "You felt that?" Despite herself, she was impressed that Snow had kept on going for so long-that any of them had.

Snow rolled her eyes. "Go. We'll be here."

Regina lost sight of her almost as soon as she started. Each footstep seemed like she was slogging through mud, and she stumbled more than once, tripping over nothing. She concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other carefully. Worse was the feeling that everything around her was becoming less and less real. People weren't supposed to be in this place that wasn't a place at all, and she felt as if she herself was bleeding life and color with every step.

Still, the thread glowed gold, and she kept going. She worried that she would run out of thread, but Belle had been sure that was impossible.

"It's not just enchanted rope. It's the Infinite Thread itself-it will be exactly as long as you need it to be.

She stumbled again and put that out of her mind. It wasn't really like wading through mud; it was more like pushing through waist-high snow. Possible, but tiring. And there was no one to give her relief.

She kept going.

She would never have made it this far without them. Each of them, willing to lend her their strength for what? For the hope that she'd make it the rest of the way, that she'd be able to find Robin's essence. And not even Belle could tell her how to do that.

Metaphor.

Fucking metaphor.

Almost as soon as she had that thought, the quality of the light ahead changed, deepening as she walked-much more quickly than the corridor she'd seen would have allowed. Soon it was almost pitch black, and the space around her was widening, too, her footsteps easier but echoing. She walked more slowly still, testing each step to see if it was really there.

Slowly, inching forward half a step at a time, she walked right into the water. Or… it felt like water: sudden cold going straight through her shoes. But she couldn't see it, couldn't hear it rippling away from where her foot had entered. She brought the thread down and could see the light from it reflect off… something. Water, then, or something like, but nothing that was disturbed by her presence.

Still, she wasn't sure she was where she needed to be. And there was no way around. She drew a breath and stepped in.

Cold, but no sound, no movement, at the surface or under. She was only in to the tops of her feet. Another step, to her ankles, then her calves, her knees, each step an agony of cold.

She took another step, up to her waist, and the thread ran out.

She looked around. As far as she could tell, she was in the middle of nothing. Behind her, the gold thread disappeared into nothing. Every other direction was featureless.

There was nothing here. No one except her. She was a great fool, to even think for a second that it was possible. Zeus had said that the crystal obliterated the soul, and it was nothing but hubris that had brought her here.

She might as well go back. She gathered a loop of thread and brought it to her wrist. The thread that would guide her up the stairs, to Storybrooke, to Belle, to Zelena, to Emma-but first to Snow-Snow who would with one look know she had failed, whose own eyes would fill up with pity, again.

No. She turned back into the dark.

If Robin wasn't here she'd have to keep going.

She dropped the thread.

The vast emptiness around her was full, not of light or warmth, but full of cold darkness that burned and shone and pressed against her on all sides. She could still see the thread, stretched toward her in mid-air, the gold a burning wrongness against the dark.

There were shapes in the dark, though she wasn't sure how she saw them or if she saw them at all. They swirled around her, moving between the air-like above and the water-like nothingness below as if there was no difference at all.

One of them came near, darted away, and she cried out as something inside her tried to tear away to follow.

It felt a little like having her heart ripped out, and she knew.

She stretched out a hand and pulled, and it came closer, slowly at first, and then in a rush, and it dove into her, and now it felt like she was rising, untethered from the ground. She grabbed wildly for the thread and missed, flailed again and caught it, wrapped it tight around her wrist, the universe-or metaphorical construct-slamming back into focus, only now the water around her waist was roiling. She could feel the thing inside her roiling too, in sympathy. She slogged through the waves toward shore, winding the thread around her wrist as she went, and then she was running up the corridor, which grew again to grey.

Regina didn't know why she was running, other than the thing inside her wouldn't let her rest-and she heard the roar begin behind her-the roar of that not-water, maybe, but she wasn't sticking around to find out.

She ran faster.

It seemed like only seconds before she was barreling toward Snow, who immediately leaped to her feet, eyes wide.

"Go!" Regina shouted, and Snow did, thankfully taking up the thread, so they were running side by side, connected together as Snow kept the thread from tangling under their feet-

Emma was already waiting, bless her, and she joined them without a word, pelting back up the stairs that seemed to fly by, easier and easier the further up they went, collecting Zelena, the roar now nearly upon them, but there was the top of the stairs and Belle, ready to shut down the door into the other world-

And the thing inside Regina still pressed against her ribs, or heart, or soul-

It didn't matter which.

The door shut, and the invisible tether that held the thing to her shattered.

Here, in the world, everything was bright and loud, and the darkness inside her leaped out into the air, losing the dark and turning bright, too, until it made everything else blur-everything but the same kind of thing in Regina, which shone almost as bright, although bound by a stronger tether to her and unable to leap up and out and follow-

And it faded, but not like when Zeus had struck Robin. That had been pain, had been a fade into nothing. And this was not nothing. It was everything.

Regina laughed, turning to the others-to Emma, mouth was hanging open; Snow, eyes bright and shining; Zelena, out of breath but shoulders relaxed; Belle, fingers already twitching as if she wanted to find a pen.

"Oh my god," Emma said, still staring at the space where the brightness had been. "Was that…?"

"Yes," Regina said, the answer simple and full. "Yes, it worked." Her happiness astonished her. She'd never expected it would work, not really. And no, there was no Robin here, with her, but it was more joyful than she'd ever expected just to know that he was.

"It worked," Belle repeated, almost reverent.

"It worked!" Snow exclaimed. She turned to Zelena and hugged her.

Regina stifled a laugh at the way Zelena stiffened, then laughed out loud at Emma's face-still dumbfounded, it seemed, at their success.

Hours later, Regina sat at an overly large table at Granny's, her family gathered around her. Everyone who hadn't been there was listening to the other recount their adventure, step by step. Regina, who had given a very short and vague description of her part, listened as Emma cracked jokes and Snow protested and Zelena whined-and Belle attempted to put their audience to sleep with technical descriptions and corrections.

One by one, Regina caught their eyes, raised her glass silently, and inclined her head. One by one, they returned the gesture.