A/N: So I noticed I kind of left this one semi open-ended, or at least with enough room for some more explanation as to why Emma did what she did. I'm thinking it might actually be good here as is but we'll see.

Special thanks to my sister Buckskinangel for making sure my ramblings came out in something that might actually resemble the English language. You're welcome, Penny

Disclaimer: Once and its respective creations, as well as the general plot bunny for this fic are not mine.

Yeah, we're clear. Mowing over those three simple words made her regret saying them more each time she dared think them. How well could she keep to a promise that haunted her for well over fifteen years? To say she didn't want the…episodes, yes that was the best way to put it… A dry laugh echoed in her head then. There really was no "best way" to explain any of this. There was nothing enjoyable about them. They hurt like nothing else (when she let them). For years now it had stopped being about the act itself. As she grew older, the pride and shame she felt when finally thrown into her own body was almost more paralyzing than the blood that dripped into the bathroom sink. Five times. Five of them made in an attempt to find healthier habits; less damaging ventilation. If she wanted normal so badly she could go to the gym. Did they even have those in Storybrooke? Maybe a quiet jog up the path to clear her head. Sighing, she shook it in quick rejection. When Emma was in escape mode it was too easy to lose track of time and place. If they ever reached such an extreme again, there was no telling where she would end up.

The thought that she could and probably would wander blindly filled her with a foreign terror that bit harshly at her spine, causing her to shiver. She'd made a promise. Would she ever really figure out how to keep them? To add even more to the already jarring pressure she felt pressed against her shoulders, this had been more than just any promise. Even in blind panic she knew that. What she'd sworn to was a commitment, a reason to stay. How she'd made it this far, she would never know. Her wife wasn't exactly the kind to take her hand when she happened to get lost. She would never say out loud just how often she let herself do just that. For someone who would probably just hand her a portable GPS and send her off, how in the world was she even going to begin explaining this?

She had enough in her to explain the motive for the single situation (when her skin finally found colour again, choosing to say very little if anything when Regina's arms found a way around her moments later). There were times she asked herself if the woman did such things because they were "expected." Maybe she did, maybe she didn't. No matter what the reason, Emma was once more indebted to her for her display of selflessness. The two weren't exactly newlyweds anymore, not that it really mattered if they were. According to any of the townspeople, she and Regina sounded like an old married couple the minute one of them opened her mouth. Yes, their honeymoon phase had long since past. If ever it even existed.

When they were finally able to table resentment—the search for Henry giving that step more than a gentle shove—nothing much had changed. Yes, they were kinder to one another and managed to hide arguments much better than they used to but the shift in their bond was such a thin line to cross that it hardly felt like anything different. Dropping off their son in the early evening and staying until dark was hardly a question. With time, Emma couldn't help but find the silence haunting when finally she made it home. Until finally it became too much and she found herself using Henry as an excuse just to hear more than her own voice. The mayor wasn't exactly jumping up and down over the idea of it all but Neverland had taught them to pick their battles. Time with Henry was not one of them. There was always something more they could rip the other's hair out over.

In this very moment, there was very little stopping her from letting her own golden locks fall in groups along her fingers. She more than deserved it. She had stopped fighting. Four years of self control down the toilet. And to think she'd actually been proud of herself for surviving such a long haul. She could take the smallest comfort in telling herself that this one wasn't entirely her fault. But she had also been so close. And then you had to fucking die she thought bitterly. At her fifth and final, she pretty much almost made it. And he had the nerve to go and ruin it for her. This was nothing to do with his final act, classic superhero move, really. At least Henry said so. But Emma had just about everything else to focus on. Adventures aside, the man was just as selfish as she once was.

I went to jail for you she thought letting her blood simmer quietly. I carried your son and you couldn't even… "Look for me…" As she rattled off in argument with herself, Emma had forgotten that Regina was still there with her, inches separating them. I won't do anything stupid, you can go do whatever it is you were doing before you thawed me out. Instead she quietly cleared her throat, finally realizing she'd said something out loud. The look of question in the other woman's features told her as much. "Sorry I just…thinking," she mumbled.

"Rare for you," Regina smirked. "Please, don't let me stop you. Who knows when it will actually come again." Emma simply rolled her eyes. If she wasn't "impulsive", she knew she would never get anywhere. Thinking things through, picking them apart, letter by letter was dangerous. If she did it long enough, she would find herself beginning to wander and the little control she managed to gather would fall to nothing.

"I want to," she mumbled. "I want to so much. I did. Four years. That was my last stretch." Emma rolled her lip, briefly closing her eyes before letting the next few words fall out. She didn't have to ask if Regina was listening, or if any of it made sense as it flowed into the room. She decided to take the fact that she was still there as enough of an answer. "Almost made it another year. And then he…I was convinced I'd never even see him again. He's blasted onto a street in New York and it's like he never left." Looking up for only a moment, she saw a scowl painted across her wife's face. "Not necessarily those ones. Those were…whispers, not reminders. Mostly anger, betrayal. Think any negative emotion you want, I had it. And…those…dissipated and everything good trumped the wall I couldn't keep up."

"You still cared for him."

"Yeah," she admitted honestly. Regina was a master of the mask but Emma knew well enough that the flicker of jealousy (though fleeting as she scrambled to hide it) wasn't supposed to be there. She couldn't help but feel privileged when she was actually able to catch sight of those flashes. Almost as if she was keeping a secret. Most of her momentary falters were. "You don't have to worry about him," she said quietly.

"You've already taken care of that," she offered evenly. The ice in her eyes had returned.

"That's not what I said," she replied.

"You don't have to. You do a poor job of hiding it."

"What?"

"For someone who claims to have a wealth of secrets, you don't hide very well, Miss Swan." The blonde easily dismissed her. Regina could think what she wanted. She always did, no matter what the story was.

"You going to let me finish?" Emma muttered.

"You'll continue either way…." Propping herself up further, she sighed.

"No matter what he did, he's still…He's going to be….No matter…"

"Say it." Her tone was sharp but direct.

"He's still our son's father," she said. There was no use in being gentle about it. Neither of them made a point of dancing around anything. It just ended up frustrating both of them and ended in anger no matter what. Emma watched her wife's eyes narrow and her limbs go rigid. Not even the joint term was going to ease Regina and she knew as much before she even let herself say it. Though the boundaries were never set, it was an unspoken subject topic that was to be avoided.

"Nothing more than a y chromosome," she grunted. "Henry knew him no more than five minutes. Throwing it around doesn't mean a damn thing. Play the part all he wants but he's done absolutely nothing to earn it." The woman's face was hard and even though she'd somehow taken to defending him, she knew Regina was right. All the same, she couldn't help but apply it to more than absent fathers.

"Like I'm just a uterus," she concluded. She hated how much her lapses took out of her. On any given day, she would be up on her feet, her hot breath against the woman's face for starting the fire inside her. The flustered cloud blew over again as Regina met her gaze.

"You know I didn't say that," she said, voice clipped.

"You didn't have to," she said echoing Regina's earlier brush on the subject. Emma already knew where she stood when it came to responsibility, or lack thereof, which Regina had no problem pointing out repeatedly. That had so little to do with the initial conversation but Emma couldn't help but think that it mattered at least a little.

"You're dancing. It's irritating me."

"The point is," she pressed on. "I'm going to care whether I want to or not."

"You either care or you don't, Emma. There's no complicating the situation." She wouldn't say it but the either or mentality was a part of both of them and there was no shaking either of them loose.

"I care," she decided. Really the only way to explain it was honesty. Regina was going to hate it but she was past making Neal a ghost. He haunted her enough as it was.

"We've already addressed that," she muttered.

"Wouldn't you?" she asked, already sure she knew the answer but asked it anyway.

"Why should I?"

"I don't have to answer that," she sighed. Regina quietly shook her head, a light smirk on her face.

"Don't make this about Henry." Emma sat up straighter then letting herself meet Regina more evenly.

"For once, this has nothing to do with Henry! This is about me."

"It's always been about you, hasn't it? When Emma's afraid, she hides. When she can't handle life, she pretends she doesn't have to. You're far past teenage rebellion, dear." Emma had to let herself breathe before she dared open her mouth again.

"Can I finish a freaking sentence before you jump my throat?" she snapped. "Yes it's about me. I never want it to be but it is. Since day one that's all you understand, that's all you've absorbed. Some people are more than they put on the table."

"And here I was with the impression that I was speaking to Emma Swan." She had to fight the need to wash her hands over her face in frustration. She didn't have to say it. Emma knew exactly where she was going: Mary Margret, and her almost constant role as devil's advocate.

"The system shuts you down. It gets to be so routine, so detached that after a while, what you should feel…you can't. You expect the let down; you accept the fact that after a while, you can't do anything to change anybody's mind. If they do it's a damn miracle. I didn't get any miracles. I turned eighteen and never looked back. Never had any reason to. I had nowhere to go but anywhere was better than one more day of hell. I started walking and just…kept going. Never the same place twice. I….I never learned how…to stop. Life was a wild card. Finally, the freedom I never tasted. If this was the only way to get it, damn right I was going to do it." This is where normal people might start to slip a little, maybe cry for a few careful sentences. She'd gone and dumped it all in one shot. As much as her throat ached, the words kept coming. If they would make sense to her, she didn't care. She just needed them gone. "They teach you all about strangers. They tell you to look for cars. I made it by the skin of my teeth on common sense. I should have thought twice when he pulled up and asked to take me a few miles. I didn't. The miles just kept going…We stopped at motels, jumped a few convenience store clerks. We did what we could, what we had to do. In his own way…Neal was the first person to…take care of me. It wasn't legal but it was something. I'm not a whore," she whispered. "I didn't use him or manipulate him. If I did I never set out to do anything. I just wanted to get away from…everything. Neal helped me do that. I'm sure he had his own reasons but that doesn't even matter. You're right, he's not a father. Sometimes I'm not even sure he was my friend but I owe him something."

"You paid your debt. He let you sit in prison for him. Too much a coward to do it himself."

"Sure, I could have said no."

"But you didn't. He played you, Emma. He played you like a harp and left you with his seed like it was the least you could do for his 'rescuing you'."

"I made my choices, Regina. There are loans hanging over my head and they're going to be there. No matter what day it is, how long it's been they're going to be there. Human contact," she said simply. "That's it. Neal fed that for me when nobody else could. And I…I love him for it." The disgust on her face was clear as the almost forbidden word fell out. "I appreciate someone willing to make me human. He was my first…anything. The whole thing was backwards as hell but that's the best I was going to get until or if something better…And better happened. I didn't know how…I still don't. I had to, Regina. See it however you want but I had to. Anything was better than going backwards. I had no idea whose doorstep it was that night. All that mattered to me was that my son would have a home. It didn't even have to be perfect. I made my sacrifice. I made a call and it saved him from living my hell.

"Somebody loved him, somebody taught him. Somebody told him every day that he mattered. That's more than I ever got. But I settled. I chose whatever it was that wouldn't make me do this to myself," she whispered, the quiet throb of her wrist more obvious now that she had the nerve to become aware of it. "He didn't last. I should've figured but I didn't let myself go there. If I had any hope of staying human, I had to feel something. Even if it killed me. Anything beats nothing. Five years. Five solid years and I'm damn proud of that. It's not a joy. Do it often enough, need it enough and it has a way of crawling under your skin, becoming a part of you."

"Baelfire is dead, Emma," Regina whispered. A strangely gentle and careful delivery but she wasn't going to question it now.

"Exactly," she agreed. "He got under my skin. He wasn't even about love. He was…realization that I was more than whatever the state happened to make me. I didn't do this, Regina. I didn't take the blade. I didn't draw blood. I was already gone before then." With a heavy sigh, she let emotion cloud her vision but dared them to spill over.

"You needed him out," she finished. All Emma could do was nod, shame washing over her in a way that was almost bordered on suffocation. "He's out now. You win. You're free."

"I wish it was that easy…" The way she made it sound had Emma think for just a second that getting there wasn't as crazy as she knew it was.

"But it is."

"He's only part of it. A big enough part but it's not all Neal. Sometimes I can and sometimes… Sometimes I can't. When I can't…I don't….the control. It's never been about me. If it was, I'd be fine. Hurt as hell and a little haunted but fine. At least fine enough to keep my skin clean. Or at least I like to think so. No say. They fed me when they wanted, how they wanted. Couldn't blame them though. There had to be a schedule. Otherwise, some of us would be missed completely and it was on them if we died. Too much hanging over their heads. There had to be sacrifices. Everything was done on their watch to make sure everything happened. Clothes were given, not chosen. Obvious reasons for that and I should be grateful I got anything. I was. They had to know when, where and what so the head counts came out like they should. I know they're all stupid. I know it shouldn't matter. This is my control. This is the one thing….The only thing that isn't driven by anybody else. This is me. This will always just be me."

"I…I always treated it like remission or something, like a cancer. In its own way, it is. It decides what to do with your body. How much depends on how loud everything is. I was free…Until I wasn't. Neal died in my arms, Regina. If it were anybody else, it might be different. He was my constant. Good or bad, he was always there. And then he wasn't. Little by little it all came in on itself. My escape went with him.

"I'm thankful to him for the things that he did, the things that he gave. But I hate him even more. I fucking hate him for making me think I could keep something. It wasn't good, it wasn't bad. It was…something. And the minute he died, he took that away from me. He can't take this. This one's up to me."

"You've done it once. You sure as hell can do it again." She nodded. It wasn't so much about agreeing with her but hoping that she could make good on at least one promise. This one held more weight than just about anything else. She wasn't sure if it was the euphoria that found its way around them after she was pulled from the shower or the fact that somehow, Regina was always able to open the flood gates on her. Whatever it was, her next few words would leave her shaken and confused for at least the next few days.

"You're my good," she said quietly. She didn't have to look up to know that she might as well have grown two extra heads. "You and Henry. You're my good." Years ago, if someone had said she would say something like that to Regina Mills, she'd have them locked in the town asylum. "Good or bad," she repeated. "You didn't have to share him. I never deserved it but somehow I earned it. You didn't have to teach me how to save myself. I was ready to fall right through that bridge but I didn't."

"The bridge had absolutely nothing to do with me."

"Of course it did. You might as well admit it, Regina. You'd be lost without me," she smirked.

"You're no fun without a pulse," she corrected.

"The shower?" she laughed.

"If anyone's going to do a decent job of your death, it's going to be me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night… But no matter how you wanna look at it, I'm not here because of him. He actually almost took me out. That's not love. Don't ask me what it is because I'm just as lost as you. All I know is that Neal, and what he did to me, the things he made me feel. That's not it. This ring is yours. I almost had to sit on you to get it on your damn finger, but it's yours. If being in this town has taught me anything, it's that there is no…love. There are promises, some of them mean more than other ones do. I never know what we are, Regina. Hell if we'll ever find out for sure. But you're here. You're here and that means something." Emma wasn't sure how long she'd been talking. She half believed that her listener eventually had enough and quietly slipped out of the room leaving her to talk to herself. Instead, she had slowly made her way over, making it easier to take her hands as she brushed her thumb along her knuckles. "I know that I haven't exactly given you reason to but if you could just…wait."

"I despise waiting," she growled.

"I know that's why I'm asking. Resisting is a daily thing. I know I won't be perfect about it. Sometimes I have to sit somewhere and hold it for a bit. I have to keep reminding myself why I haven't done it yet. But I'll get there."

"You say it like you expect me to do something about it." The blonde slowly shook her head.

"You've done more than enough for me."

"I am not your maid," she said firmly.

"I know. As of right now, you're dismissed," she chuckled. "I just… I need time."

"So long as I don't have to explain this to our son, what it is you 'need' is irrelevant." Ice cold coming out but considering what Emma had put on her plate, she expected nothing less.

"Thank you…" Gracious was far beyond either of them so the fact that she got no echo out of it wasn't anywhere out of the ordinary. A lot of…whatever their relationship was stood on silent understandings. Regina Mills knocked her to kingdom come and not once did she ever lie down and take it. Whatever their foundation, Regina would always somehow be there; whether either of them liked it or not. They weren't exactly shy in their motive for it either. Whatever they were had to stay whatever it was for him. And maybe, if people squinted a little and tilted their heads about ten degrees, there might just be progress. The destination to wherever was still shaky as ever but at least she'd stopped wishing her dead. That had to mean something.

Emma could do nothing but take the blame on herself for the first four recoveries and the fact that she had ended them. Nothing particularly Earth shattering brought the blade to her skin. But this…This wasn't hers and in some ways, thinking of it like that was a small wave of relief. Relief took only seconds to turn to anger when his voice sounded in her head. Emma… Just her name whispered in no more than two syllables, and still, it managed to knock her off her centre.

She hated every shadow. There would always be one or two that managed to get louder than the others. Of course they would follow her. No matter how quiet they were, how rare their approach, she had to accept that she wasn't getting rid of them. For once in her life, Emma Swan had alternatives. She still wasn't sure what to make of them but if she had any hope of earning her keep, she had to learn fast. He deserved it. Her wife deserved it. And maybe, when and if she felt it acceptable, she deserved it too.

She deserved to try. She deserved to want. She deserved to hope for more. She had earned the right to look beyond the blade. Lost…She would always be lost. But it was about damn time she let herself be found. And maybe...maybe she had been.

"I should have never let him set foot in that hell," Regina muttered. Emma bit back the fact that their son being teleported wasn't exactly up to them. She also decided to keep tucked away trying to decide whom it was Regina was addressing. Neverland had reminded her of everything she fought to forget. Fictional or not, whether she believed in such a place or not, the island was no help to her.

Mission Cobra: Failed. Something about thinking the words, even if she never spoke them brought on new fear. Lethal. Everything about her "comfort" was lethal. But as much danger as it may have brought—because past tense was all she was allowed now—it had also brought her years of comfort and familiarity when everything around her insisted on changing. But her innocence or any excuse to keep it in her back pocket no longer applied.

"Might try something local for a change."

"Do you make a point of being so cryptic about everything?" she growled.

"It was a joke."

"If laughter was necessary, I don't see where." Emma just sighed quietly brushing her lips across her agitation. She couldn't help but note that Regina's hands always seemed cooler than they should be. Anyone else would be warm or at least less pained in their every word and facial expression. But the time to ask for things was gone. What she got was what she got. Just as she had no choice in her role as a savior, she had even less room to special order a woman with rare tolerance. Not that she would ever admit it. But Emma Swan was good with secrets. Sometimes too good but it played in her favour.

"No more family vacations to Neverland," she clarified.

"About time you start using that head. It's more than a target for my coffee cups."

"Disney world sounds kind of cool though…" Regina's mouth quickly became a grim line, this glare one of her more prominent displays of distaste. Emma just shrugged. "Henry might like it."

"No."

"It was just a thought…."

"I've heard better." The blonde couldn't keep the slight grin from forming then.

"Now who's being cryptic?"

"If I must explain them, they lose their purpose."

"I actually like that better. Always been more of a hands on learner."

"Must you always be talking?"

"Not necessarily." She would have spooked at the sudden snarl if Regina hadn't been so quick to silence her. After a moment, some form of oxygen was needed forcing the two to part with light flush across both of their faces. "Oh…" she whispered.

"Downright insufferable," Regina hissed.

"And yet…here we are," she grinned.

"Another word and I leave you here to melt on your own," she warned, her lengthy nails leaving bits of her upper arm a new shade of white. "I just replaced these sheets…"

A/N: So, more dialogue than anything but I lost control of this thing by page two or three. Pretty much wrote itself. Thoughts? Comments? Suggestions? Let me know!