A/N: Okay, so lately every song has been Swan Queen, some more so than others...

This is an angsty one-shot inspired by "The Winner Take It All" by ABBA - if you're not familiar with it, I'd probably recommend that you YouTube the song or Google the lyrics or something. It's a beautiful song, and I've tried to stay true with the spirit of the song whilst trying not to shatter my shipper-heart into a bazillion pieces...

I think of it as sort of an (alternate/SQ) ending to S2 - Cora's defeated and (almost) everyone is happy, but I guess you can slot it anywhere you want...

A special thank-you to waltzalascherzo for all of your wonderful feedback :D It's very much appreciated...

I don't own nothing, and can't afford a legal team, so yeah - don't sue me.

…I don't want to talk.

The last time we'd all gathered in the back of this shop you all went and left me, alone.

This time, I'll leave you alone.

Recent events are still too raw, and the hurt rising in my chest has proven too much.

So I slip away without a word.

Because it's over.

I'm done.

I did my worst – I threw every last thing I had at you.

…But then you had to go and do your best, and now?

I have nothing left.

I've no more aces up my sleeve.

Call it destiny, call it fate, call it sheer bad luck – I've never been the victor, and I should've known not to expect things to be different now.

I don't pause at the door.

I don't glance over my shoulder.

Because I know you'll be standing there with her.

Your arm around her shoulders.

Your fingers in her hair.

Your whispers in her ear.

…That used to be my place, pressed into your side.

And I refuse to remember how right it felt.

How safe I felt.

How I'd foolishly thought I could stay there forever.

And I refuse to wonder if she kisses you the way I used to.

If the sound of her voice sends to same shivers down your spine.

…I refuse, because that would be torturous.

I've lost you, and there's nothing I can do.

I walk, and I try not to cringe at the sounds of laughter that follow after me, mocking me.

I try not to cringe at the happiness of those that will decide my fate come morning.

And it is happiness, pure and simple – so close I can hear it, feel it, taste it.

But I can't have it.

...I can only watch.

I'm so caught up in my misery that I almost don't hear the bell above the door ring behind me, or the sound of footsteps on the pavement.

"Regina!"

And you've come after me - because of course you've come after me.

This is you, after all.

"…Regina, wait."

And I stop walking, because of course I stop walking.

It is you, after all.

I don't want my shoulders to slump, or my voice to waver but they do, regardless.

"Congratulations, Emma Swan. You've won."

You've taken everything from me:

My son.

My second chance at happiness.

…then while you were at it, you took my heart as well.

And I don't want to turn and face you, but I do.

You look me in the eye and I hate that you can see everything.

And I hate that you feel bad about what's happened - the things that I said, and the things that you said.

Because it renders me unable to hate you at all.

I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

All I want to do is go home and curl up inside a bottle of cider.

Because I'm tired, and I miss you, and everything aches.

I try to smirk, but it doesn't come off quite right – I know it, and you know it.

I offer a hand for you to shake, but you don't take it.

You give one small smile, and take two giant steps and before I can think I'm engulfed in leather.

My breath catches in my throat, because you smell exactly the way I remember.

I collapse into your embrace and hold onto you for dear life.

…I don't want to say good-bye.

My face is buried in your neck, and I can feel your fingers pressing against my back and tangling in my hair.

I should hate that you can feel me trembling like a leaf, more sobs than tears.

I should hate that you can feel my pain, my weakness.

I try to tell you that you should be back inside, back with your family, back with… her, enjoying the spoils of war.

I try to tell you that you've won, that I've lost - that everything is over and done and that you don't have to worry about me anymore.

But your head shakes 'no' and you squeeze me back a little tighter.

It's not sorrow sitting in my chest now – it's something much lighter.

Hope.

And it hurts far more than any misery ever did.

...Because this is the part where you calm me down, wipe my tears and bid me goodnight.

My lips part, but I cannot quite bring myself to voice the plea that resides there.

Your hand lingers on my cheek and I resist the overwhelming urge to lean into your touch.

So, this is the end, then?

I'm still gazing into green eyes, hardly noticing that you've shrugged out of your jacket until you've stepped a little closer and draped it over my shoulders.

The warmth that lingers inside the red leather isn't quite enough to chase the cold from my bones.

However, the way your hands are still grasping the lapels of your jacket might.

The whole world slows as you pull me a touch closer.

I close my eyes and hold my breath, and you press your lips to my cheek.

Your kiss burns.

…But then, so too does the ache in my chest and the tears behind my eyes.

I can't win.

Why do you have to be so… you?

A finger under my chin tilts my head up, and you smile into my eyes as you back up, off and away, heading back inside.

"See you tomorrow?"

…and I'm lost.

A/N: So, how'd I do? Drop a line, I'd appreciate your feedback :) I hope I didn't edit it to death...