A/N: Thanks for the kind words, hope you enjoy.

Just a word of warning, this chapter does contain some mild violence within it. Be forewarned as is necessary.

In the moments before the world of fairytales had been cursed into the next plane of existence – a land without magic – there'd been a loud explosion, and then a chaotic spray of glass. The glittering shards had erupted around the furious form of the Evil Queen, her hands held out as she had celebrated her imminent victory over all of those whom she believed had so heinously wronged her.

Snow White remembers those painful moments in a way that is somehow beyond vivid. She recalls the nearly devastating heartbreak that she'd felt as she'd held the unconscious – perhaps dead – body of her beloved husband. She recalls thinking about the minutes old daughter that she wondered if she'd ever see again, and dammit if she doesn't have the feel of sharp glass cutting harshly into her skin indelibly stamped onto her brain.

Now, as shimmering glass once again shatters around her, she thinks back to those terrible moments. That there are shards once again spraying the room courtesy of the Evil Queen is an uncomfortable bit of irony for her. Especially when you consider the reason that the woman has come into this world.

Emma. She's come for Emma.

It'd been all about Emma last time as well. Back then, Regina's horrible plan had been all about taking the newborn child away from Snow and Charming, thereby forcibly removing their ability to raise and love their little girl.

She had succeeded.

Now, Snow has no idea what the plan is.

These visions that her daughter has been sharing with Regina terrify her. She recalls the ones she'd shared with Charming, remembers the hypnotic sensuality of them, the raw emotional intimacy. She can't even begin to fathom how Emma and Regina could begin to share anything comparable.

Frankly, she can't even begin to imagine how Regina could share real intimacy with anyone. Especially not the child whose life she had so horribly ruined.

And yet, as shards of glass once again splice into her skin thereby causing small tendrils of bright red blood to slither down her cheek, Snow finds herself forced to acknowledge that clearly, Emma and Regina had shared something.

Clearly, there's some kind of emotional connection between the two women.

She's disturbed by this, perhaps even heartbroken by it, but as she looks up at the dark haired woman who has quite suddenly emerged from the broken mirror, she realizes that such things will have to wait for later.

Right now, hopefully, it's time to go back to Storybrooke.

The woman known to everyone in this land as the Evil Queen steps out of the destroyed mirror, feeling a thousand pieces of glass cut mercilessly into her exposed flesh. She feels dozen of small flashes of pain, but her mind ignores these, effortlessly tosses these away as mere insignificant distractions.

She's still dressed in the light blue silk pajamas she'd worn to bed, and she has a moment of discomfort at the realization of this. She knows that she's about to face her worst nightmare (whether that be her mother or Emma Swan, she's not quite sure), and it seems a bit odd to do so wearing sleepwear.

All of that fades away, though, the moment her eyes settle upon the sprawled out forms of Snow and Emma. They're both lying on the ground, hands covering their heads so as to minimize the damage from the exploding glass. Not that their attempt to do so completely works; she can see blood on both of their faces, and some trickling down the exposed flesh of Emma's muscular right bicep.

"Regina?" Emma asks then, looking up at the dark haired woman who is standing above her. Her wide green eyes take in the form of her usual nemesis. She sees exhausting stamped hard onto Regina's face, fatigue bruising her eyes. Still, there's something oddly majestic about the brunette, something powerful.

"Stay down," Regina replies, her voice low and authoritative. "Neither one of you move until I tell you to."

Snow starts to protest, starts to move almost in spite of Regina's words, but Emma catches her arm, and shakes her head. "Trust me."

"And you trust her?" Snow asks her, her tone thick with disbelief.

"Right now, I do," Emma admits with a shrug. She can't explain why she believes this, won't even try to right now, but she knows her words are right. Knows that the only way through this mess is to trust the brunette. Believe in her.

"If you two are done discussing my trustworthiness," Regina inserts dryly, "Then please do shut up. My mother is coming."

The two women exchange an exasperated look, both of them chafing against being ordered around by Regina. After a moment, they both turn their attention back towards the former queen, Snow noting with more than a spark of surprise and fear that Regina is now completely surrounded by purple energy.

Apparently, back here in their home world, magic for her is like riding a bike.

"Regina," Emma says softly. She doesn't know what the end of the sentence is, though. Perhaps it's a warning or perhaps it's a plea.

Perhaps she's simply asking Regina not to betray her faith.

"Be silent, Miss Swan, and listen for a moment if you're capable of it," the former queen answers, her voice as low as Emma has ever heard it. Emma considers arguing with her, protesting her orders, but once again, she chooses to believe in the advice she'd given to Snow; she chooses to trust Regina right now.

"Your play," Emma says softly, the warm feel of blood dripping down her cheek momentarily distracting her. It's hardly the first time she's been bloodied up in the last year, but there's something strangely intimate about these wounds having been created by glass shredded thanks to her…whatever the hell Regina is to her…having stepped through a mirror from a different world in order to save her.

Intimate and weird.

Regina turns her head slightly, her normally chocolate dark brown eyes glowing a disturbingly bright shade of violet. In spite of her odd faith in the woman, Emma finds herself deeply unsettled by this. It's clear that magic is flowing through Regina's bloodstream, and historically, this has never been good for anyone in her family. And yet, almost inexplicably, her faith in Regina stays strong.

"When my mother enters this room, I'll distract her. While I'm doing that, I want you two to make your way back through the portal. The mirror."

And this is why her faith is strong, Emma understands with nearly shocking suddenness. She's surprised to realize that she's not one bit surprised to realize that Regina plans to throw herself in front of them in order to save them. Emma lifts her green eyes up and tries to meet Regina's, tries desperately to make a connection with the brunette, but Regina refuses to allow it.

Instinctively, Emma knows that what Regina is doing is refusing to allow the blonde to her see the deep shuddering fear lurking deep behind the violet of her magically enhanced eyes. She's terrified, Emma thinks to herself.

"Why can't we just go through it now?" Snow demands suddenly, feeling more and more uncomfortable with the situation at hand. She knows better than just about anyone how badly magic can corrupt. She knows what it does to Regina.

"We need more power to juice it from this side," Regina answers with an impatient sigh. "I used…emotion…on the Storybrooke side. We'll need magic here. My mother can supply all that we need and more if I work this right."

"All right, I get it," Emma nods. "We go through. What about you?"

"I'll be right behind you."

"How will you distract her?" Snow asks, tossing her daughter a look. She can see the frustration in Emma's eyes, the clear fear that this situation is about to go upside down in an entirely new and unexpected way.

"With my own magic, dear," Regina answers.

"Like you said, her magic is well, more," Emma reminds the former queen, her voice sharp with irritation.

"I didn't actually say that, but it's probably the truth," Regina concedes. "That said, somehow I doubt she expects me to be as powerful as I am now."

"Regina…"

"No more arguments. Snow, once everything starts, I'll try to draw her fire towards the mirror. If I'm successful, the portal should open back up. When it does, you grab your daughter and whatever it takes – no matter how much she fights you, and we both know stubborn idiotic mule that she is, she will fight you - you push her through that portal door."

"Hey!" Emma puts in. She's starting to really not like where this is going. Yes, she understands the idea of using yourself as a shield but that Regina is already anticipating her trying to stay back and fight is worrisome. It's almost like the brunette is expecting one hell of a battle. A battle that maybe she can't win.

"Snow?" Regina presses, ignoring the blonde. "Do you understand?"

"I do," Snow answers with a frown. She tries to ignore the glare Emma is throwing her, tries to pretend her heart doesn't ache just a bit.

Because dammit if it doesn't sound like Regina's not sure that she will be following the two of the back through the portal to Storybrooke.

And Snow has the worst fear that if she doesn't, if the Evil Queen falls today at her mothers' wicked hands, well then Emma's already deeply fragile heart just might shatter into as many shards as the mirror had.

"Good," Regina says suddenly. "Because she's here."

She takes a breath then, offers Emma a quick sad smile, and then turns to face the door of the room, her hands up, purple energy radiating off of her as she gets ready to face the nightmare which had helped to create her.

Emma Swan feels like she's hung-over. Really, that's the best comparison she can make for the nearly explosive pain she feels radiating through her her brain as she comes to her senses. She groans loudly as she tries to sit up, the headache dramatically slowing her down. Her stomach rolls and for a moment, she thinks that she's about to throw up. Moving into the fetal position just makes everything ache all the more.

"Ow," she whimpers, before hissing out a few choice expletives.

"Hey, easy," she hears. "Take your time."

She blinks then, and bright white light floods her vision. Involuntarily, she whimpers again. She seals her eyes against the visual assault.

"I'll turn it down," the voice chuckles. It's male and familiar.

David. Charming. Dad.

Her eyes snap open, and this time, she ignores the sharp radiating pain in her skull and brain. "We're back," she breathes.

"You are," he nods, his face erupting into a wide smile as she finally manages to clear her vision up enough to look at him. "You both are." Hesitantly, he reaches out and lightly touches her face. The contact is warm and gentle.

And oddly welcome.

She smiles at him, then puts a hand over his. She settles it there for a moment, allowing the feelings of family to flow through her. Then, softly, "So Mary Margaret is okay then, too?"

"Your mother is fine."

Emma tilts her head at that. She chuckles dryly. "Yeah. That's still going to take me some time. More time, I mean."

"I can imagine. You feeling okay?"

"Not really," she admits with a small shrug. She lifts a hand to her forehead, then winces sharply again. "Ow. What the hell happened?"

"I was hoping one of you could tell me. Snow doesn't really remember much."

"Great. Neither do I."

"No idea where all these little cuts came from?" he gestures towards her arm and she sees almost a dozen tiny scratches. Almost like they were made from…

"Glass," Emma says suddenly.

"Sydney?"

"No. Regina."

"Okay, I'm completely lost. What does Regina have to do with this?" There's a kind of frustrated anger in his tone now, and she finds herself wondering what has occurred between her father and the former queen during the last month.

"She rescued us."

"What?"

Emma puts up a hand. "It's too long of a story, and it doesn't make a bit of sense, but…did she come back through the portal with us?"

"I don't know," he admits. "Last night, we were sleeping –"

"We?"

"Me and Henry."

"Henry's here?"

"Also a long story."

"Wait, is Regina still the mayor?" Emma queries, remembering a comment the brunette had made in one of their shared visions.

"No. Again, long story. How about you tell me yours first."

"I don't know mine," she blurts out. "What happened last night? Here, I mean."

"We were sleeping, we heard an explosion and when we came down, the two of you were lying in the middle of the floor, both dead unconscious. I had Whale come over and check you out. He said you were both fine and would wake soon."

"I guess he was right. Regina wasn't with us?"

"No. Should she have been?"

"Yes." She pushes herself to her feet. "Where's Henry now?"

"With Red. He wanted to stay here, but I didn't want him around in case something else came through the portal with you two."

"But nothing else did, right?"

"Not that I saw. What is going on, Emma?"

She shakes her head, unable to find the words to explain this. "I have to go."

"Where?"

"Is she awake?" Emma queries as she starts digging through drawers, looking for fresh jeans to put on. She feels a surge of joy at the reality of being able to wear clean clothes for the first time in over a month. Actually, now that she thinks about it, a shower sounds nice right about now, too. Not for the sake of vanity or hygiene alone, but also to clear the thick cobwebs away from her tired brain. If Regina needs help, Emma knows that she needs to be thinking clearly.

Abruptly, a bundle of clothes heaped in her arms, she heads towards the bathroom. Once inside, acutely aware of the fact that David has followed her to the door, she turns on the water as hot as she can get it.

"Are you asking me if Regina is awake?" he calls out.

"No…Mary…my roommate. Is she awake yet?" Emma shouts back as she climbs into the tub, and slides herself beneath the showerhead. This is going to have to be a quick wash and rinse, nothing overly indulgent, unfortunately. Hopefully, there will be time – and calm enough - for that later.

"She woke up," he answers with a worried frown. "But she's sleeping again now."

"Is she all right?"

"She is. She has the same cuts on her that you do."

"I know," Emma answers as she weaves shampoo through her thick tangled up blonde hair. She sighs as she feels clumps of dirt release, watches as they fall to the floor of the shower, then tumble down the drain. It's not enough, though. Never really a woman of luxurious ways, she realizes that she actually wishes she could stay in here for the next hour de-clumping and scrubbing herself.

Oh well.

"Emma, I don't understand," Charming tells her, his voice soft. She hears pain there, a kind of deep longing. Like he wants to connect to her.

She wants that, too. Just not right now.

"I know you don't. I'm not sure I do, either." She steps out of the shower, quickly dries herself, and starts pulling clothes on. She notices that her jeans don't quite fit as they used to; she's lost weight and the pants sag on her just a bit. "Well at least something good came out of that place," she muses.

"What?"

"Nothing," she answers. She steps out of the bathroom and approaches her father. "Look, when Mary Margaret comes to again, ask her to explain everything as best she can. Right now, though, I have to go. I have to find Regina."

"Did she do something to you?" he asks, his blue eyes hardening.

"Yes, she did," Emma nods. "And I'll deal with it. You stay with your wife. With…you stay with…with Mom. Okay?"

"I will, but Emma…Regina's dangerous."

"Yes, she is, but not to me." And with that, she turns and leaves the room. A moment later, the bewildered man hears the front door of the loft close.

The woman known to many as the Evil Queen screams in frustration and fear as she realizes with a bolt of terror that she's still on the castle side of the mirror. She looks down at her hands, realizing that the magic would had been flowing through her entire body just mere minutes earlier has now dissipated. She snaps her fingers, tries to pull the energy back into herself, but it's gone. Completely so, apparently.

She's powerless. And alone. Completely at the mercy of her mother.

She takes a deep shuddering breath, her eyes on the mirror in front of her. What she sees there now is nothing but the black solid surface behind the glass, a hundred small sharp fragments of silver still sticking out from its edges.

"Darling, what's wrong?" her mother purrs, the thrill of victory blackening her voice and making it sound like pure evil.

"I don't understand," Regina whispers to herself, ignoring the gloating woman behind her. She places her hands against the dark surface of the mirror, her expression showing her confusion as she tries to understand why the door had closed before she could enter it. Her goal had been to survive just long enough to follow Emma and Snow through. She had. Unfortunately, the door had closed.

Trapping her here. With her vengeful hateful mother.

"Of course you don't. You never did," Cora chuckles. "You always believed that you could defy me. You always thought that you could escape your destiny. Well, my dear girl, today you learn the truth; no one can. Certainly not you."

Regina feels the corrosive and cruel touch of dark magic snake across her skin, and in that awful moment, she finds herself reminded – horribly so – of Daniel's touch. Before she'd helped him leave the living world once more, he'd held her in his grasp, and his hold had been cold and dead. Corrupted by magic.

Destroyed by hatred and power.

She'd tried to forget that touch, tried to romanticize and cleanse it, but this one, she can't. This one – her mother's – has haunted every nightmare she's had for the last three decades of her life. Longer, if she's completely honest with herself.

"You thought that ridiculous blonde girl would save you, didn't you?" Cora chuckles as she spins her daughter around to face her. "As you saved her."

Regina lifts her head up, eyes snapping with angry defiance. "I'm not afraid of you." Her tone is hard, firm and powerful. All just an act, though.

One her mother sees right through.

"Of course you are. As you should be, my beloved child." She lifts her hand then and throws her daughter with as much force as she can against the mirror. The remaining glass there, no longer liquid, cracks and shatters beneath the quaking body of the former queen, cutting roughly into the woman's back.

Regina screams. Bright shockwaves of pain radiate through her body, electric and horrific. She shudders as blood flows down her skin, reminding her of childhood beatings, ripping her back to a time of nearly constant agony.

"I am curious," Cora says with a smirking knowing smile. "How did you get here? Through the mirror?" And then she laughs. "Oh wait, I know; you love the girl."

"I don't," Regina hisses back.

"So of course you say, but we both know better, don't we?" Cora replies. "If you didn't feel something for her, something strong, then the portal would never have opened. That mirror is a Soul Door, and the only way to walk through it is to –"

"Stop," Regina pleads, her voice cracking as she speaks. "Just stop."

"The only way to walk through the soul door is to love someone with all of your soul," Cora finishes with a derisive sneer. "Oh, you stupid silly girl, did you not learn the weakness of love last time? Do I really have to teach you this lesson again?" She slams Regina against the mirror once more. "Do I?"

Regina closes her eyes. Tears streak down her face. She feels herself breaking.

She thinks about Daniel's words to her. Love again.

She had. Against her better judgment, she'd opened up her heart again, allowed herself to feel enough emotion (this is an understatement, she knows, as it takes no simple amount of feeling to enact this form of magic) to open the Soul Door.

And now, once again, she finds herself about to pay a terrible price for such foolish love.

The lack of answer at the front door just about scares the hell out of Emma. After a moment of hesitation (long enough to muse on the idea of a furious Regina going off on her for causing destruction to her house), she reels back and kicks out at the solid front door, her foot cracking loudly against the wooden frame.

One more kick and it creaks and gives. She races inside. "Regina!"

She's greeted by a cold silence.

She tears through the rooms, then races up the stairs. She stops by the closed door to Henry's room, places a hand upon it, and then, after a moment, pushes it open. It, too, is empty, though shockingly unsettlingly in just how static it appears to be. Almost as though Regina has left everything looking exactly as it had on the last day Henry had been within the room. Even a stack of clean clothes sits on the bed, as if waiting to be put away in drawers. She feels her heart ache terribly for a woman who quite clearly desperately misses her son. That, she thinks, can be worked on later.

Once she's verified Regina's safety.

She'd promised the brunette that she'd stand with her, stand beside her. It's a promise she means to keep no matter what she has to do to make it happen.

She enters Regina's room and almost immediately, stops cold, her wide green eyes rising up to the silver mirror on the wall.

A mirror which is showing images from another world.

"Regina," she whispers as the brunette slams violently against the wall. When she's peeled back and away from it, Emma seems that the former queen's back is stained bright red with blood. She hears a horrific sound – a guttural groan of agony - and realizes with a horrible shock that it's coming from Regina.

"You don't understand why you couldn't follow her through, do you?" Cora taunts as she steps towards her wounded daughter. "Well let me educate you once more, my dear daughter. You saved her life with your feelings, but as she didn't feel the same way about you, as she didn't see fit to save you, you couldn't follow her back. She needed to show the same emotion as you did, but she didn't. She doesn't love you as you love her."

"Please," Regina whispers, pain radiating from her eyes. It's horrific to see this proud woman reduced to this, to see her so heartbroken and crushed.

"Did you really think a girl like that could ever love a weak and pathetic creature like you?" Cora continues with a sharp cruel laugh.

"No," Regina admits, the rest of her strength and resistance bleeding away.

"No," Cora agrees. "She never could." And then she flicks her hand again, slamming Regina's body once more against the hard surface of the mirror.

"Stop," Emma whispers desperately, tears in her bright green eyes. She reaches out for the mirror, reaches out for Regina. "Stop."

As her fingers touch the glass, she feels her mind flood with vivid images.

She sees herself standing in the doorway of Henry's room, watching as her son slumbers, his head rested against his adopted mother's chest. She sees Regina stroking his hair, her fingers absently dipping beneath the strands.

She sees herself on the couch in Regina's study, holding the former queen against her, the mouths connected, their arms wrapped around each other. She sees the contact deepening, the touches hardening. She watches as clothes are shed, thrown away and forgotten about as hands and mouth begin to move.

She sees herself lying on Regina's oversized bed, quite obviously completely naked. She feels fingers tracing up and down her spine, dancing out a gentle almost soothing rhythm. When she turns her head, she sees Regina next to her on the mattress, reading a book, clearly unaware of what she's doing.

And finally, she sees herself holding Regina tightly in her arms, the warmth of the former queens' body heating her up. She feels calm and peace.

And love.

She steps through the mirror.

She's starting to black out, starting to lose her connection to reality. Perhaps this is a good thing, she thinks. Perhaps she'll be lucky enough not to wake up again.

Her mother has other plans, though. Just as the grays and blacks start to invade her vision, she feels her eyes get ripped open. She feels magic holding her up, forcing her to stay conscious just long enough to learn her lesson about love.

Her mother wants her to hurt for what she's done. Her mother wants her to understand who is in control. Who has always been in control.

Her mother wants her to understand the futility of love.

Regina understands the lesson all too well, and yet deep down, she knows that this is a lesson that she will never properly learn. Deep down, she knows that she will never - as long as she draws breath – completely forsake the idea of loving and being loved in return.

When her back hits the wall again, she cries out for Henry. Cries for him, too.

Her mother laughs, and flicks her wrist again.

When Regina's head connects with the solid surface of the mirror this time, she whispers Emma's name even as blood leaks into her eyes, staining her vision a bright shade of red. She tries to focus on the images – and feeling - from the visions that she'd shared with the blonde sheriff.

She tries to see herself lying peacefully in Emma's arms.

Somewhere distantly, as she fades out finally (mercifully), she thinks she hears what sounds like an explosion of glass from the mirror behind her.

That there's no more glass left to shatter doesn't occur to her.

Emma is as shocked as anyone to find herself on the opposite side of the shattered mirror, back in the former queen's castle in Fairytale Land.

Back with Regina and Cora.

Her eyes immediately settle over the unconscious form of the former queen, the bright red blood stains splotching her blue pajamas causing Emma to frown in worry and fear. "Regina," she whispers, moving quickly over to the woman. Almost tenderly, she runs a hand across the brunette's face, feeling for life.

"So my dear daughter did manage to find love again," Cora says simply, alerting Emma to the vile woman's presence. The witch's expression is more annoyed than curious, more irritated than surprised. She stares at the interloping blonde woman with rage and hatred in her glittering dark eyes.

"She did," Emma answers sharply. "And she's coming home with me." As if to prove her point, she places herself over Regina, positioning herself between the brunette and her murderously psychotic mother.

"Not today, dear," Cora replies, lifting a hand. "Today, it seems that I will need to teach you the same lesson that I taught her." A fireball forms in her palm, and Emma feels a shock of fear go through as she realizes that she's about to be incinerated. She barely has time to think about all of her many regrets before she feels the ferocious heat of the fireball slam into her body.

It occurs to her a moment later that the fireball hadn't hurt a bit, though.

"What the hell?" she hears Cora growl. The woman looks down at her hands, confusion and anger peppering her expression.

Emma looks up and smirks. "Oops," she says with a triumphant smile growing on her face. "Apparently you forgot to pay your energy bills."

"Now is perhaps not the time for your terrible sense of humor, Miss Swan," Emma hears from beneath her. She looks down to see Regina's tired dark eyes gazing at her. They're bloodshot, but aware. Still, there's a kind of oddly wistful expression there, like Regina doesn't completely believe that this is actually happening, but is willing to play along simply because it's a wonderful dream.

Simply because the idea of being loved again is almost good enough.

"Sorry, couldn't help it," Emma shrugs, a hand sliding out to hold one of Regina's. She squeezes tightly "You about ready to head home."

"That'd be nice, dear."

"You're not going anywhere," Cora snaps, stepping towards them.

"Yes, we are," Emma answers defiantly. Then, seeing Cora about to open her mouth again, the blonde quickly cuts in and waves her hand impatiently. "I know, I know, this isn't over. Well until then, go to hell, won't you?"

And with that, she hauls Regina up, holding the former queen tight in her arms, as close against her chest as she possibly can. Then, closing her eyes, Emma pitches them both backwards, towards the mirror.

It's a ridiculous leap of faith.

One that can only work if the feelings shared between the two souls entering through the door are real.

They are.

TBC…