Four months later, Regina was deemed fully recovered physically and cleared to go back to work. She finished rehab ahead of schedule, as predicted. She also completed her mandatory psychiatric counseling, and just as she had after Eva was killed, she passed without difficulty. One thing she was expert at concealing was her emotions. No one seemed to notice the sorrow in her eyes, and if they did, they didn't comment. No one ever doubted Regina Mills and her ability to do the job. It was almost as if the last half year had never happened.

Now, as she sat in Robert Gold's office in the Department of the Treasury to receive her newest assignment, it was just like it had been the day he'd assigned her to command Emma Swan's security team. It was deja vu, but everything was different, including her. She was more alone than ever. Then at least she'd been numb. And when she'd needed contact, a brief delay from isolation, she had Angelina.

That was different now too. When she'd sorted through her things after being released from the hospital, she came across the note Angelina had left the night they'd spent together, a lifetime ago. It had been in the pants pocket of her trousers since the day she'd been shot.

R, I have a feeling I won't be hearing from you for a while. I'll miss you, more than you know. If you ever need anything, call me. A.

Regina never called, knowing that what she needed, Angelina could not give her. Not this time. After Eva had died, she'd lost herself in work, and when she'd needed something to ease the sadness and the guilt, Angelina had helped her forget. Emma Swan was impossible to forget, and no one else's touch was going to satisfy the longing.

"So," Gold finished, watching her carefully. She seemed distracted, and that was unusual for her. But, hell, she'd earned a little slack. "Regional director, back in investigations. Right up your alley."

"What's the catch?" Regina asked mildly, willing herself to focus on what she was saying. This is what I'm good at. What I wanted before New York. Before Emma. I should be glad. Why don't I feel anything at all?

"No catch. Your team will be investigating the counterfeit money laundering operation in South Florida. You'll work with the DEA."

"Just like always." Regina said grimly. "Fine. I'll need a few weeks on the ground to get a sense of the team and the network they have going, check out the contacts and the informants, that sort of thing."

"You're the regional director." He said with a laugh. "You don't need to do field work."

Regina eyed him steadily. "I'm perfectly fit for duty. And I know what it takes to do the job, Gold."

"Understood. But being shot twice in the line of duty is enough for any agent." He commented dryly. "Despite the fact that you're a hero, you'll give us a bad name."

"Heaven forbid." Regina said with a perfectly straight face.

"Well, just keep your ass out of the line of fire." Gold said roughly. He looked to the papers on his desk, indicating that their obligatory meeting was over. His surprise when she spoke.

"How is Graham handling the other detail?" She asked quietly. She hadn't meant to ask, but she hadn't heard anything about the apprehension of the shooter. Which meant Emma was still at risk. It was on her mind. All the time.

He was almost successful in hiding his surprise. This was the first time she had referred in any way to her previous assignment. He contemplated issues of security for a few seconds. What the hell, she deserves an answer.

"No major security breaches, if that's what you mean. Humbert is very careful with is reports, but I gather that the subject is still throwing up roadblocks whenever possible." He regarded her intently for a moment. "As a matter of fact, I could use a straight briefing about what's going on up there. You're not due to report to this new post for almost a week. How about dropping in on Graham and getting the real story?"

Regina stiffened, her displeasure clear. "I'm not going to spy on another agent. Graham Humbert is perfectly capable. I'm sure if you speak with him, he'll tell you whatever you need to know."

"Hell, I'm not doubting Graham's ability. But I'm no fool either. I know damn well that he is holding back the details of the reports to protect Emma Swan. Remember, the guy who tried to kill her is still out there, and we couldn't keep her secluded forever." He played his advantage card, because he was a politician, and he knew that only an appeal to duty would sway her. "She's still in real and imminent danger. Any information can only help us. If you don't want to talk to Graham, talk to her."

"No way." Regina stood abruptly, then turned and strode purposely toward the door. Emma hadn't called, and Regina hadn't contacted her. There was no reason to. Her job was done. Their association was history. It didn't matter that she rarely passed a day, hell, an hour, without thinking of her. Emma Swan had never thought of her as anything more than an obstacle for her freedom. She wasn't going to intrude on Emma's life now. Emma would hate it, and seeing her would hurt.

"Mills." He said in the soft, deadly tone that meant he was completely serious. "Don't make me pull rank. Just find a way to do it that you can live with. Five days. Then I'll expect to hear from you."

She didn't answer. She didn't trust her voice not to tremble.

As she drove through the Lincoln Tunnel into Manhattan, Regina reminded herself that she was in New York City for the sole purpose of attending the opening of her mother's gallery exhibition. It was the first East Coast showing for Cora in a number of years, and Regina knew it would please her mother for her to be there. She had absolutely no plan on visiting the command center, and certainly no intention of seeing Emma Swan. She reminded herself of these facts every few minutes, whenever she found her mind drifting to the images that she thought she had successfully eliminated. Images of Emma in a smoky bar, her hair wild and her hunger unleashed. Emma, vulnerable and weary in the hospital after the ski accident. Every moment of her triggered a kaleidoscope of wistful wanting and explosive desire.

God damn it. She forced her concentration back to the congested city traffic, grateful for something, anything, to distract her from the aching need that was never far from the surface of her consciousness.

She allowed the attendant at the Plaza to valet park her car and gave the bellman her luggage to bring up to her penthouse suite. She wasn't traveling on company time and felt no need to account for her expense. In fact, she felt unaccountable to anyone for the first time in her adult memory. She was between assignments, and despite Robert Gold's order, she would not be performing any duty for the United States of America for the next five days.

She signed in, and, as soon as she was alone in her suite, she showered. She had an hour and a half until the evening opening of her mother's show. Standing naked before the bathroom mirror, trying to tame her unruly waves into position, she surveyed her image unemotionally. Her thick black hair had new touches of gray at the temples. Despite the lengthy recovery, with vigorous physical therapy and compulsive workouts, she'd maintained her muscle mass and strength. She was muscular and firm. The only visible difference was the scars on her torso from the bullet wound, the surgical incisions, and multiple tubes that had been necessary to fill her lungs. She looked as herself and wondered how she would look to another. She dismissed the thought quickly. It was a debatable point.

She absentmindedly went about the process of dressing. She did not glance at her reflection again, knowing that the black silk jacket and trousers were perfectly tailored for her, that her shoes we impeccably shined, and that the French cuffs of her white starched shirt were exactly the right length. When the driver let her out in front of the address she had given him, she knew that she was precisely on time. Everything in her life was exactly as it should be, predictable, ordered, and under control.

The room was already full when Regina entered, as she expected it would be. The crowd had overflowed the first level up the stairs to the second floor of the gallery, a noisy mass of murmuring critics, artists, and members of the press. Regina accepted a glass of wine from a passing waiter and began a slow tour of the area, stopping to study each new canvas. It had been a long time since she had seen so many of her mother's works in one place, and she had not seen any of her most recent creations. The hallmark characteristics of her mother's style were clearly evident, but Regina was surprised to find that the paintings seemed calmer at their core, with less of the pain that had been so evident in the early years following her father's death. Maybe time does heal. I hope so for her sake.

Eventually, Regina heard her mother's distinctive voice, and she gravitated toward it. Cora was visible despite the crowd of people around her. She appeared relaxed, although there was a light in her eyes, apparent even at a distance, which spoke of exhilaration. She's talking about what she loves.

Then Regina heard another voice that drew her up short. Emma was standing next to her mother. Heart pounding, Regina felt as if someone had struck her hard enough to drive the breath from her body. For an instant, her mind was numb, then every sensation she had been trying to suppress regarding Emma Swan flooded back. Her pulse raced, her blood pounded, and her hands began to shake.

Emma looked up and their eyes met. Then Emma's lips parted in surprise, her green eyes widened, and a faint blush stole across her cheeks. She took an involuntary step forward, as if intending to rush towards Regina, then halted uncertainly. They stared at one another as moments passed.

Surprisingly, Emma regained her composure first. She threaded her way through the intervening crowd until she stood in front of Regina. She tilted her head and smiled sadly. "How are you, Commander?"

Regina finally found her voice and answered with as much control as she could come up with. "I'm fine, Ms. Swan."

Emma studied her carefully. Physically, she did look fine, and as strikingly handsome as ever. But there was a strange flatness in her gaze and an emptiness in her voice, as if something vital was missing. Instinctively, Emma touched her arm. She was shocked to feel her tremble. Her sources had told her that Regina had recovered completely, but now she wasn't so sure. She had never seen her even the least bit unsteady. "Are you sure? Regina?"

Regina nodded sharply, trying to hide her pain. The place where Emma's hand rested was all she could feel. She had tried so hard to forget her, and just one brief touch brought back all the wanting. She finally managed to answer evenly, "You have me at a disadvantage. I didn't expect you. I didn't see any of our people outside or in the crowd."

"Ever observant, Commander. They're in a car parked across the street." When she saw Regina frown, she smiled faintly and added, "Everyone here has been thoroughly prescreened. I'm quite safe."

"Forgive me." Regina finally smiled and tried to relax. "It is not my place to question these things any longer. I should speak to my mother." She turned to leave, needing to escape from the penetrating green gaze and the searing touch on her arm. "It was good to see you again, Ms. Swan."

"Wait, Regina," Emma said impulsively. When Regina turned back to look at her questionably, she continued, "I wanted to say thank you. It is so insufficient but...I... thank you."

Regina spoke without thinking. "Emma, you don't need to thank me. God...I couldn't have stood it if anything happened to you."

"Why do you think I would feel any differently?" Emma questioned urgently, her throat closing on the words. She had struggled for so long with her worry and fear and guilt. Emma grasped her hand, and their fingers entwined instinctively. "I was so frightened. I couldn't bear that you might die because of me. For me. I never wanted anyone to do that, especially not someone I... care for."

"Please, Emma," Regina murmured, catching a glimmer of tears on her lashes, "don't. You were not responsible."

"No?" Emma shook her head, her voice a mere whisper. "I'm not so sure."

"I should go." Regina said desperately. She wanted to hold her, and couldn't keep denying it. Being this close to her, touching her, was bringing her carefully constructed barricades tumbling around her. When they'd been separated, she'd been able to convince herself that she didn't want her, didn't need her. Because it was impossible for so many reasons, not the least of which was that Emma obviously did not want her. But she had lied to herself. And now she was very much in danger of saying, or doing, something she would regret. "Please, excuse me."

When she turned to leave, Emma stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"No, I should go. You came to see your mother. She'll be devastated if you leave now." Emma tried unsuccessfully to hide her bitter disappointment. She had come close to telling her things she didn't want to acknowledge, even to herself. She should have known there was too much standing between them for that to be anything but foolish. She didn't think she could tolerate being in the same room as Regina, not with the distance between them so great, not with the wanting so obvious it was an ache in her depths. For the briefest for instants, Emma laid her fingertips on Regina's chest. "It was good to see you again, too, Commander. Please know I'll never forget you."

And with that, she was gone.

"What a surprise!" Cora kissed her daughter on both cheeks, the grasped her hands and leaned back, surveying her fondly. "I'm so glad you came, Regina. I know these aren't your favorite events."

Regina tried to smile, still shaken by her encounter with Emma. "I'm sorry it's been so long. I'm so happy for you."

"You look well."

"I'm fine, thanks." Regina couldn't help but look toward the door. She couldn't see her anywhere. She's gone. Christ, but it hurts.

Cora detected the turmoil in her daughter's eyes and glanced briefly around the room. She did not see Emma. She hesitated for a moment, and then spoke gently. "Have you seen Emma?"

"Yes." Regina swallowed, replying softly. "We just spoke."

"She's a remarkable woman." Cora sensed her daughter's struggle for composure. "A gifted artist."

"She's..." Regina stumbled over her words. "She's extraordinary."

Going on instinct, Core continued, "I'm sure no one told you, Regina, but Emma stayed by your side for almost forty-eight hours after you were injured. She refused to leave until your people forced her."

Regina gasped and closed her eyes briefly. "It was her."

"Yes." Her mother said simply.

Emma. It was Emma's voice I heard. Emma's hand I clung to.

And suddenly, right now, that was all that mattered. Regina met her mother's gaze, a faint stirring in her heart. She smiled, her eyes flickering with a light that had been absent for months. "Thank you for telling me that. Thank you."

Cora had no time to answer before Regina turned and swiftly made her way through the crowd and out the door.