I see you all loved how I ended the last chapter. You're welcome! (Sorry I'm a bit of an asshole.)

This chapter is a bit on the short side, sorry for that, but I wanted to give you something, and this is just the little transitioning chapter I needed to go on with the story. Thanks for the ton of reviews and follows and everything, that makes me seriously so happy.

Hope you still enjoy the story, there's a few more chapters to come.

xx

It was weird, not being around Regina all the time.

Emma missed their bantering, the easy domestic routine they had somehow fallen into, just having someone to share with.

Being with Regina had become so much second nature that she wasn't functioning properly without the other woman. She didn't sleep, had no appetite, and felt generally awful about how she had handled the situation.

She had made a huge mistake, she had realized that about five seconds after closing the mansion's front door behind her, but she just didn't know how to fix it, although that was all she wanted.

Regina hadn't even tried to call her, but, to be fair, neither had Emma. It was just that she was so incredibly scared that she had done something she could not come back from.

It scared her shitless.

Emma had seen the other woman a few times over the last week and a half. Actually, she was actively on watch for her. It wasn't like she was stalking or anything, she just wanted to make sure Regina was okay (which, obviously, she wasn't really).

Every day, Henry had to give the blonde a precise report about how the mayor was doing—unsurprisingly not too great, actually, which, of course, was totally Emma's fault, and she knew it.

God, she was such a goddamn idiot.

There was no valid explanation for why she had run in the first place, nothing to justify her actions, only her complete and utter stupidity.

Running away from good things in her life was a nasty habit she apparently just could not manage to shake.

She knew she should be there for Regina, instead of doing whatever it was she was doing at the moment, because the brunette was alone, and pregnant, and also the woman Emma loved.

How the hell could she fuck up so bad all the time?

When she had effectively ruined Regina's happy ending with her soulmate, or true love, or whatever that dimwitted forest hobo was supposed to be, by accidentally bringing Marian back from he dead, she had thought that was it, rock bottom. But, no, apparently, she could do even worse. Congratu-fucking-lations, idiot.

So she had basically just been hating herself these past few days, mixed with the occasional silly ray of hope.

A few times she had thought about using Henry to make Regina forgive her, but that wasn't fair. Then she had considered bribing Regina with food, but that wasn't enough by a long shot to compensate for how bad she had screwed up (again). She had even tried to write Regina a letter, because, normally, that worked better for her than talking, but she had doffed the idea after a few failed attempts.

Dear Regina,

I didn't mean to run

Dear Regina,

I am sorry

Dear Regina,

I love you

This was hopeless. Plus, why should Regina ever forgive her, anyway? Obviously, she was better off without the blonde, who just kept hurting her, albeit unintentionally.

Regina didn't need her, she never had. It was just Emma's stupid head and its wishful thinking that had brought her to the false conclusion that Regina might be as lost without her as the blonde was without the other woman.

Maybe she should try to bring Robin back to make Regina happy. Maybe she should leave town to not hurt Regina anymore. Maybe she should just call Regina and beg for her forgiveness, because she knew she couldn't possibly live with any of the other two possibilities.

Taking a deep breath, she got her personal phone out of her pocket, unlocked it, and opened her contact list (which she didn't necessarily need, because she knew Regina's number inside out).

She was intently staring down at the phone in her hands, pondering if she should finally get over herself and just call Regina, apologize, and hope she would be forgiven.

Or maybe she should just drive over to the mansion and tell the brunette in person; just tell her everything, all of it—I didn't mean it, I'm sorry, I love you.

It was then—somewhere between trying to gather the courage to spill the beans, and being sure that she would take all this to her grave with her—that the phone in Emma's hand started to ring.

The caller id said "Royal Pain in My Ass," because, once upon a time, when the mayor had still been only annoying, and bossy, and utterly horrible, it had seemed extremely funny, and Emma had never actually found the time to change it. Maybe she should do that as soon as possible.

"Regina?"

The fact that the brunette was calling her, that she had caved in, seemed awfully suspicious to the blonde, because, normally, it was always her who came around, eventually. Regina was simply too stubborn, too proud, even when she knew she was wrong. She never caved, which drove Emma mad ninety-five percent of the time.

She had learned that the hard way: one time, the mayor had ignored her for a week straight because she had brought regular broccoli home from the store instead of organic one (which the brunette had never once specifically mentioned). Regina called that persistence, Emma called it irrational, and Henry just rolled his eyes and smiled at both his mothers like he knew something they didn't.

The other end of the line was still silent, and Emma already thought it was a butt dial or something, when she heard it; Regina was crying (well, rather trying to stop to cry to actually get some words out).

It scared the shit out of the sheriff.

"Emma, I—I'm bleeding," Regina finally all but whispered, and the blonde hoped she didn't hear correctly, but the woman on the other end didn't continue; all Emma could hear was her soft sniffling.

Without even answering, or ending the call, or thinking, for that matter, the blonde jumped up from her desk at the station, and ran to the car parked outside.

Breaking about every traffic rule there was (because who would arrest her, she was the fucking sheriff after all), she was at the mansion in record time.

There was an ambulance standing in the driveway, back door open, and a paramedic busy with doing something Emma had no clue about.

She parked the cruiser halfway on the street, and barely remembered to actually turn it off, before she got out and hurried up the path toward the door, which was standing wide open.

Against what Regina was still trying to teach her and Henry—"No running in the house!"—she took two steps at a time up the stairs and jogged down the hallway to the room at the end, which she hadn't set a foot in since she had had sex with Regina in there about one and a half weeks ago.

Once she entered the bedroom, she couldn't—or rather didn't want to—believe her eyes.

It looked horrible, like the scene you woke up to when your period hit out of nowhere—but in the World War II battlefield version. There was so much blood, particularly visible on the white sheets and covers, it made Emma's stomach turn.

She had done this, this had happened due to her behavior. If she hadn't just left Regina, this wouldn't have happened, Emma was sure of it. She was the reason Regina was losing the baby. Oh God.

The blonde found the other woman in the ensuite, where another paramedic was measuring what Emma supposed was the brunette's blood pressure.

There was some more blood here as well, and, regarding the sheer amount of it Regina must have lost, Emma wondered how she was even still alive, let alone conscious (not that she was complaining).

For a moment, she just looked at the other woman from where she was leaning against the doorway. Regina looked so small, so fragile, and broken sitting on the floor, back against the side of the bathtub.

She must have somehow sensed the blonde's presence, because, out of nowhere, she looked up, and directly into the sheriff's eyes.

"Emma."

It was barely a whisper.

The blonde's heart broke.

There were visible tear tracks on the mayor's cheeks, her eyes were red and puffy, and she looked so, so defeated and small, guilt pooled in the pit of Emma's stomach.

"Regina, I'm so, so sorry, this is all my fault. I'm sorry, I don't want you to lose the baby, please. I'm really sorry, I—" the blonde rambled, unable to wrap her head around what was happening.

This couldn't be real, Regina couldn't lose the baby. This baby was their chance. True, it wasn't actually Emma's, but what did it matter? The baby had brought them together, even more so than Henry had.

"It's not your fault," Regina mumbled. She looked pale and tired, which coincided with the amount of blood currently decorating her bedroom.

"I'm sorry I ran after… you know," she hinted, because she didn't really want the paramedic, who was still in the ensuite with them (and who looked rather interested in their conversation), to know what happened in the adjacent master bedroom less than two weeks ago.

Looking from the blonde to the paramedic, Regina fake-coughed, and the guy almost jumped.

"We're going to take you to the hospital for a thorough exam, Mayor Mills. I will get the gurney," he said, before he left with another pointed look at Emma.

Without a word, the sheriff dropped onto the floor next to Regina, who turned her face to look at the other woman.

They were a mere foot apart, and Emma wondered how Regina could possibly stay this calm.

"It's my fault; I shouldn't have pushed you to it."

Emma would've laughed if the situation hadn't been that serious.

"That's bullshit. I wanted it as well, but I was the one who just left afterward."

"But you are here now," Regina said, completely exhausted, as she reached for the blonde's hand, a weak smile on her lips.

Quickly, Emma intertwined their fingers, and used her other hand to carefully stroke the mayor's cheek.

"Of course I am, where else would I be," she pointed out, before she leaned in to kiss Regina's temple, and pulled her close.