A/N – Ok, so I know from your response to the last chapter that I lot of you have guessed where this is going, and a lot of you are right. Just remember everything I said at the beginning of this fic. I am so sorry, I really am but as always you're just going to have to trust that I have a plan and you'll see the method behind my madness very, very soon. There's a lot of angst coming, but hopefully the end result will be worth it. Wait and see. I love all of you reading so much!

29. Courage and Fear

When Emma woke up the next morning, the snow had stopped, and outside the window a gory sunrise flooded light through the curtains and over onto Regina's sleeping figure.

The brunette was curled up on the blue vinyl chair, knees tucked up to her chest. With her head dropped onto her shoulder and her dark hair falling across her cheek, she looked like something out of a storybook, or a film. The morning sunrise glanced off her hair and caressed her cheek. Emma allowed herself a long moment to take in her beauty and her energy, soak it up like a sponge. Store it for winter.

On the opposite wall, the clock kept ticking, ticking, ticking, reminding her of time's passage. In the hospital, time was different – it had always seemed slow and heavy, as if being trapped between the clean white walls dragged the minutes down. As if the prayers in the multifaith chapel downstairs for longer with loved ones almost worked. I should be so lucky. Today though, time was quick.

It doesn't matter anyway, Emma thought, studying the way the fiery glow of the rising sun caught in Regina's dark hair like a crown. Forever wouldn't be long enough.

Blinking the last crust of sleep from her eyes, Emma took a deep breath and forced herself to look away. She studied her hands while her mind woke up piece by piece, watching the play of orange light on the crease of her knuckles and her stubby fingernails. She exhaled, long and heavy.

Down the hall she could hear the sound of voices deep in conversation, coffee being poured. Outside the window a new car drove up to park, an old one left. The machine beeped faithfully at her bedside. Already, the world was beginning to come alive with the morning. Emma sighed. Soon, Regina would wake up and want to stay, and Emma would have to tell her why she couldn't.

And she would. That she knew for certain.

Emma managed a glance at the plastic table by the bed, where the last of Ruby's flowers were dying, dropping white petals over the linoleum. Under the papery brown stalks, Henry's card stood proudly, declaring it's message for all the world to see. Emma let her eyes track over the careful felt-tip lines, the hand-drawn smiles, a loose wave of blonde hair brushing against her cheek.

Sighing, she spared another glance up at the clock. Soon enough, one of the nurses would be in to ask what she wanted for breakfast, and then one or both of her parents would arrive, and the day would start and the world would go on regardless of what happened to them.

One last time, Emma wished there was some escape clause, some option number three she hadn't noticed before, but when she closed her eyes and let her head drop back against the hospital pillows the only new thing running through her mind was... the pain. The sheer, building, burning, growing, writhing pain in her head and her chest and jackhammering at her temples, now she knew that in probably less than an hour, her world would be completely changed.

She couldn't have said how long she sat there, listening to the clock ticking away the time she had left, before the sound of Regina stirring a few feet away made Emma's stomach flip.

The brunette released a soft groan, knees shifting against the chair's armrest. Emma watched raptly as Regina's spine stretched and arched, head pushing back against the yielding vinyl. She wasn't totally awake, but she was on her way. After a tense few seconds, Regina settled back down in a new position, cheek resting against her hand. Her shoulders relaxed once more as her breath slowed.

Emma studied her with a sudden urgency, a need to memorise every inch, every tiny detail of this remarkable woman. Now she'd moved, her hair had fallen back from her face against her neck, and the poppy-red sunrise fell across her skin, lighting up her face. Emma could feel her heart beginning to pound harder inside her chest. Her eyes tracked the other woman from head to toe.

There was no choice about it. She would remember. When she needed to most, in a few days, weeks, years, Emma would make herself remember the way the sunrise made her skin almost glow gold. It sent the shadows of her coffee-dark eyelashes over her cheeks, shone off her hair. She'd been wearing makeup last night, but her dark pink lipstick had faded off and the kohl above her eyes was smudged softly. The little scar above her lip seemed more pronounced, the lines at the corners of her eyes more important. Asleep, unknowing, Regina was beautiful as the queen in the story they read to Henry. God, she was. More. So beautiful it hurt.

Like the sun, Emma supposed, Regina's light was so strong you shouldn't look directly at it. The thought put a hint of a smile on her lips, looking down at herself. It's a little late for health and safety now.

As if on cue, Regina released another strained groan, legs unfolding so the bottom of her socks skimmed the floor. Emma watched her stretch her neck, her arms, and slowly come to sitting with the late sun finding gold in her dark hair. She rubbed her eyes absently with the heel of her hand, yawning once before glancing over at Emma as she realised she was awake.

A soft, sleepy smile appeared on Regina's face and hit Emma in the chest like shrapnel. The morning light was turning her eyes from cocoa to ochre to gold. "Morning," She said. Her voice was low and heavy with sleep.

Emma tried to speak, but her mouth was suddenly dry. "Morning."

Regina paused, stretching her back again, the movement long and languid. It couldn't have been comfortable, sleeping cramped up in that armchair all night. When she was done, she ran a hand through her sleep-mussed hair and her gaze returned to Emma. "Have they been for breakfast?"

"Not yet." Emma replied. Her voice sounded strained, and there was a lump in her throat.

"You want me to run down to the shop and get you something?" Regina asked, rubbing the stiff muscles of her neck absently as she spoke.

Emma's tongue darted out to wet her lips anxiously. "It's fine,"

Regina gave her a look. "You know that hospital food is crap."

"I know."

Emma never let her stare fall for one minute – she was pretty sure she couldn't if she wanted to. She was trying to catalogue Regina's every movement while she still could, adding the way she rolled her stiff shoulder and how her voice was lower when she'd just woken up to the list of things she needed to remember.

Soon enough, the spell was broken when August pushed through the door in his green scrubs to get her breakfast order – as the clock ticked away the time they had left, Emma and Regina sat in a silence that was either loaded and waiting, or sleepy and comfortable, depending on which one you asked. Emma ate her dry hospital toast and it stuck in her throat. Regina picked at the remains of the quinoa salad she'd brought in the day before. The sun rose.

Emma could feel the morning slipping through her fingers – she tried to make it last but it was like grasping at water. The clock kept ticking. Eventually, Regina put aside the half-empty Tupperware and picked up her phone. "Your dad says they'll be here by twelve." She told her, brown eyes glancing up at green.

"Okay," Emma managed, the words barely getting out from around the lump in her throat.

"That's good, I'll leave then to check on Henry. Kathryn says –"

"Regina." Emma said. The word caught in her throat. It was all she could think, all she could say. "Regina."

Regina glanced up at her sharply, brown eyes wide. All of a sudden, the energy had changed irrevocably. And now that it had, Emma realised, heart thumping, it wouldn't change back. Ever. God. She had to do it now, now it was all building and boiling and breaking inside her, she had to or she never would and she could never live with herself if she never did and – "I think we need to talk."

"Oh," Regina blinked, shutting off her phone and setting it down on the plastic table. "What about?"

Already, Emma could feel tears building behind her ears, just from looking at her. She really had no idea. Shit. Shit. She swallowed hard. "About..." She blinked. All night last night since she made the choice she'd been running through what she was going to say, but now, suddenly, in the face of reality, words deserted her. "Um, about..."

Regina watched her struggle for a few moments, studying the blonde with caring eyes. After a few seconds she stood up from the chair, and she was lifting the plastic rail on the bed. Emma flinched, hot wave of panic flashing through her. "No, Regina, don't –" Her brow furrowed slightly. "Don't sit there."

"Okay," Regina said warily, taking a step back. Confusion and curiosity were written plainly across her face. "What's going on, what's wrong?"

Something was wrong, that was plain to see.

"I think we should talk about... This." Emma finally managed. She swallowed hard, willing her voice to come out. "You and me."

Regina tried to conjure a smile, for her benefit. "You're not proposing, are you?" She raised an eyebrow.

A fresh spike of pain rushed through her, dizzyingly fast, for all the milestones they wouldn't have. "Don't." Emma managed, the simple word barely coming out from around the lump in her throat. And then, before she could get scared again - "I don't think you should come back here later. And I don't think you should come back tomorrow either."

"Okay..." Regina allowed warily, unsure what Emma meant.

She studied the other woman for a long moment, struggling to figure out what exactly was going on here. Emma was avoiding her eye, instead looking resolutely down at her own hands. A strand of blonde hair had fallen against her cheek, turned a thousand shades of gold by the early sun as it climbed across the sky beyond the window. Her tired face was all hard lines and conflict: her green eyes were shining. The tightness of her jaw, the slight furrow between her brows...

Regina breathed in, trying to ignore the mounting unease in her stomach, and the way her heart thudded faster and faster as the silence between them drew on and on and on. She didn't feel right. It was as if her body realised before her mind did.

"In fact I don't think we should..." Emma paused, the words catching in her throat. She forced herself to look up at her. "Carry on the way we were, once I'm out."

"What?" Regina was lost. Her voice sounded small and faraway in her own ears. She could hear her blood rushing, pounding.

She's not.

All of a sudden it was all crashing down on her, every fear and every doubt she'd ever had. Worse – every fear and doubt she knew still plagued Emma.

She can't be.

Her hands jumped instinctively to her stomach, twisting. Still, Regina made herself watch the other woman as she seemed to collect herself, breathing in, swallowing, taking a moment to look out the window where a bird was cutting across the pale blue sky.

"Here's the thing," Emma explained, finally finding the courage to turn back to her. "I love you. More than I've ever loved anything and you need to know that. But ever since I got in here I've been thinking –"

"Okay,"

"I've been doing a lot of thinking and I've realised that if I love you... Then I want what's best for you. And if I can give you that, what's best for you, then I should. Even if it hurts me." Emma swallowed hard. She could hear her blood rushing in her ears. She couldn't believe she was saying the words. Her breath was shaking.

She had no idea what to say next, but when her eyes found Regina's, she found herself talking without thinking, and before she knew it she was fighting to hold back tears.

"That night I was rushed in here, you came flying down that corridor and you came in here and my mom was holding you up, you were so unsteady. And you had this look in your eyes, like you couldn't understand how much pain you were in." Emma forced herself to breathe out – it was like she'd scratched a scab right off, and suddenly it was all bleeding out of her. "And you sat in that chair there and you looked at me and you cried. You said you hated seeing me like this." Blinking several times, Emma steeled herself and finally met Regina's eyes. "Well let me tell you this, 'Gina. I hated seeing you like that."

"But it wasn't your fault..." Regina tried feebly. "I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"I'm trying to say I think you're special. I think you deserve the whole world." Emma's voice was breaking now. "And I can't even give you a tiny piece of that. I'm like – I'm like a black hole, Regina. I keep sucking and sucking your energy and I don't give anything back but pain and suffering! There's someone out there for you that won't make you cry all the time. There's some life here for you that's happy and good and reliable."

Realisation was beginning to crawl across Regina's face. Her wide eyes were shining now, full lips slightly parted. Her chest rose and fell with every breath. She blinked several times, shook her head.

"Emma," Regina said, struggling to think. "Emma." She blinked, but she was blinded by the tears suddenly building behind her eyes. "Are you breaking up with me?"

"What? No!" Emma rushed to amend. Her heart wasn't so much pounding as it was collapsing. She swallowed, green eyes finding Regina's brown. "I just think we should take a step back. Or several. For you, for Henry... Look, I've just been thinking and... if I love you that much I can't keep doing this to you. I can't keep pretending like nothing's wrong when –"

"Nothing is wrong!" Regina countered, voice rising with the colour in her cheeks. Her heart was racing desperately. She swallowed hard, paused, forced her mind into order. "If this is about your condition... You have to know I don't care about that. I love you, chair or no chair." Suddenly, she felt very lost and young and close to tears. "You."

"Regina, please." Emma's green eyes met hers, a hopeless whisper. After a long moment, Emma found her voice again, as the first tear finally slipped down her cheek. "I'm not going to get better. There's no miracle, no cure, no end to this. I'm not going to get better!"

"But..."

"There's always going to be more hospitals. And more treatments. And more time wasted on me that you could be spending with your son." Emma faltered. Her voice was thick with grief. "Regina, that kid is nine. He needs you. You should be with him right now, not me. But if you stay with me you'll be with me more and more, and all you'll ever get for it is heartbreak." She blinked until she could see again, voice falling to a pained whisper. "I love you too much to let that happen."

Regina caught her eye, swallowing. Emma tried not to look too long at the way her brown eyes brimmed with tears, shone with realisation and confusion and – a thought crawled through the back of Regina's mind like an itch. It was just that comment about Henry... Sounds almost familiar. Regina stared at her. "Did my mother say something to you?"

"No! I mean, yes. Maybe." Emma shook her head dismissively. "But that's not what this is about, I made this decision myself."

Regina faltered. It took her a few moments before she could speak. "So you're breaking up with me,"

"That's not what I said."

"That's what you meant."

Emma didn't say anything.

For a long time, nobody did.

Regina's hand darted up quick to catch the first tear and wipe it away before it could fall. Standing there in her heels in a sterile hospital room in front of Emma, she was certain she'd never felt so hopeless. Not when she found out she was pregnant, not when she realised her feelings for Robin had gone, not when she signed the divorce papers, not when she moved so far for so much. For this.

Suddenly, a flash of anger spiked through her, churning her stomach. How could this be happening? After so long, after all they'd been through, how was it even possible Emma didn't know how much she cared? How was it possible she had no idea Regina would gladly sit in a hundred hospital waiting rooms every night for the rest of her life it meant she got to be with Emma? After everything. Was nothing she'd done enough?

And it wasn't just for her own sake – this was about more than the two of them. The brunette turned sharply on her heels, eyes flickering over Emma's resigned face.

"What about Henry?" Regina demanded, voice harsh. "What do you expect me to tell him?"

"The truth." Emma said, still not meeting her eye. "That he needs you more than I do. That I refuse to be the reason you're not spending all the time you can with him after all he's been through."

"You don't have to do this." Regina breathed, suddenly done with tears and anger and excuses. She took a few steps forward, trying to ignore the way Emma flinched when she came near. "You don't have to and you know it. Just talk to me. Talk to me like you always do and we'll work something out like we always do –" She bit down on her lip, fighting to keep from breaking down.

Emma turned her head sharply.

It was too much.

"Regina, can you just go, please."

"Fine." Regina snapped, voice harsh and close to breaking point. She was halfway to the door when she spun around on her heels to meet Emma's eyes across the hospital room. She swallowed hard, dark eyes wide and shining with tears. "I know a lot about you, Emma. But I didn't know you were a coward."

Regina's dark eyes hung on hers for a moment, jaw tight, voice wavering.

And with that she was gone, in a flurry of dark hair and clacking heels. The door creaked as it swung shut behind her, clicking into place.

Silence fell. Outside, a bird was singing. The machine at her bedside still beeped. The clock still ticked. The last of the flowers bowed it's papery stalk on the bedside table. As always, the smell of her perfume lingered where she'd stood.

When they brought Emma into the hospital after the accident, she was on a stretcher. There was glass in her hair and her face, and she was bleeding through her khaki shirt in three different places. She was swimming in and out of consciousness, and a nurse was squeezing her hand. She'd just broken her spine so irreparably that she would never walk again, or drive her beloved yellow Bug, or make herself a cup of coffee. They'd asked her how much it hurt, and she'd muttered like a bitch.

Later on, a nurse tried to tell her that's how she knew she'd pull through – she was brave enough to make jokes and fight back even when she was hurting the most she physically could.

But that wasn't true.

Emma didn't know it then, but the truth was, when the time came for her to feel that much pain, she wouldn't joke around. She wouldn't fight back. She let her head drop back against the pillows, unsmiling, eyes squeezed shut tight against the world.

She knew it now.

-0-

Regina was fighting to hold back tears by the time she was back on her front doorstep, fumbling hard with the keys in the lock.

When the front door finally opened she stepped into the warmth of her home, shut the door behind her and stood uselessly in the foyer for a few minutes, breathing in and out, in and out.

After a few minutes she broke her trance, shaky fingers struggling as she stripped off her coat and dropped her bag by the front door. She walked through to the living room as if in a dream – trying to ignore the sharp cut-glass pain in her chest that shifted with every step. The room was empty. Henry must have been upstairs.

Regina blinked several times, standing on the carpet with no point or purpose. She turned around, gaze falling on the mantelpiece, the framed pictures gathering a thin film of dust. She hadn't had much time to clean since the hospital. Absently, she ran a finger over the wood, until she reached the photograph in the centre. The one from her birthday.
Strangely numb, she reached to pick up the picture, staring at it for a second before turning it over and unclipping the back until she could slip the photo out. She set the empty frame neatly back on the mantel.

Another couple of minutes passed with Regina standing there in the middle of the room, photograph in hand. She felt... Hollow. It was almost as if everything that had happened this morning was just some bad dream, and she'd wake up in the blue armchair in Emma's hospital room in the morning and nothing would be wrong.

But it's not.

Filled with a sudden rush of anger, she crumpled the photo in her hand and hurled it across the room, away from her. She just needed it away from her, she just needed - she needed -

God.

Regina collapsed against the wall, head falling back against it. Her eyes squeezed shut. A long heavy sigh fell from her lips. She barely remembered the drive home. She barely remembered anything past could you just go, please.

Before she knew it she was on the floor, knees coming up to her chest. Her heart was pounding so hard and so futilely it almost felt like it was shaking, shivering inside of her chest. Finally alone, Regina let herself break. She dropped her head down against her arms, hiding in the quiet darkness behind her eyes as it all crashed down on her at once.

And then she was thinking about her first day in her new job in this sleepy little town a thousand miles from anything she'd ever known. Her mind was racing with images, words, snatches of a weary smile and grey beaches, wheelchairs spinning to music and laughter, blonde hair shining in the sunlight and quiet whispers and explosive kisses and late night phone calls just to say I love you.

And then she was crying: squeezing her eyes shut while tears streamed thickly down her face, chest rising and falling heavily with every breath. It hurt so much. It was the kind of consuming, shattering hurt that in any other circumstance she would have turned to Emma with. The first sob wracked her with a tiny gasp, and then some inner dam broke and she couldn't have stopped if she'd tried. She let it tear through her. Sitting there, alone, Regina cried hard until her stomach hurt, hating herself for it all the while.

She couldn't have been like that more than a few minutes before she heard the footsteps on the stairs, and suddenly her heart jumped up into her throat, stomach flipping. She breathed in sharply, hands flying to try and wipe the tears from her eyes. Henry didn't need to see her like this.

"Mom?"

Regina was still struggling to dry her face on her sleeve when the small voice cut through the noise in her head. Her head jerked up to find her son, standing over her at the foot of the stairs, hazel eyes wide in his small face. She sniffed, blinking rapidly and hastily brushing back her hair, which had started sticking to her wet face. "Henry," It was all she could manage without starting all over again. She tried to smile: she didn't think it worked.

God, I'm pathetic. Regina thought, smoothing back her hair again. Pathetic. But the voice in her head was her mother's, and there was nothing she could do.

"What happened?" Henry asked. His voice was very small.

"Emma," Regina replied hoarsely, picking imaginary lint off her slacks. It was all she could think. She glanced up at the ceiling for a moment, battling a fresh flood of tears. She couldn't believe what she was about to say. "Emma and I... Are no longer together."

Henry's face, already so sad, fell.

After a moment of quietly observing her, he took a few steps closer into the den and wordlessly sat down beside her against the door, skinny knees pulled up to his chest. He looked confused, big bright eyes scanning the air as if trying to work out some imaginary problem. That was what did it – knowing that her beautiful, perfect boy was feeling it just as much as she was. Another tear escaped, slipping down Regina's cheek before she could stop it.

Henry fumbled in his jeans pocket for a second before coming out with a crumpled packet of tissues, offering it out to her in silence.

Regina accepted with a squeeze of his small hand, fumbling to take a tissue out of the packet and carefully wiping under her eyes. She hadn't properly removed her makeup last night, what with sleeping in the hospital. She didn't want to think what she looked like.

When she was done, folding the tissue carefully between her fingers, Henry launched himself at her and threw his arms around her without another word. His chest hit hers, skinny arms squeezing her so tight. Immediately, her chest flooded with warmth. His feathery brown hair was in her face. He smelled like home, and family. Pathetic. She should be the one comforting him. Still, she couldn't help but feel a whole world better every time he squeezed her tighter.

After a long time, Henry finally spoke, words muffled slightly by his shoulder. "What happened?"

Regina exhaled heavily, fingers toying soothingly through his hair. "She got scared. And I got mad."

Henry just stared at her with those big brown eyes. "But I thought love wasn't scary or mad."

"Oh, Henry," Regina sighed, holding him tighter. "Love is everything."

They stayed there on the floor for a long time, mother and son wrapped up in each others arms, sharing their loss. Together, they'd made it through Robin and the divorce and the move, and together, she supposed, they'd make it through this too. She just wished they didn't have to.

The rest of the day passed in a dull blur. Henry barely left her side all day – he helped her cook, and covered her over with a blanket when they settled down to watch crappy TV together. The pain in her chest dulled to an ache. It felt like there was a weight inside of her, something heavy and hollow. He brought her tissues too, and before she knew it the sky outside was dark and she was sitting on the side of his bed to say goodnight, watching his space lamp swirl starry patterns over the walls.

Regina brushed back a few stray strands of brown hair from his forehead. He looked tired – it was past his bedtime, really – but still wore the same look of disappointed confusion he'd had all day.

"Do you want a story from your book?" Regina asked, trying to cheer him up. "What about your favourite? The one with the saviour and the queen?"

"No. I just want to go to sleep." Henry said, huffing heavily so that his bottom lip stuck out for a second, like it did when he was a toddler and throwing a tantrum about something. His thin eyebrows furrowed together slightly. "I don't think I like that story anymore."

Regina's heart sunk down even further in her chest.

"Okay," She said gently, fingers stroking over his forehead still. "I love you. I'll see you in the morning."

"I love you too." Henry mumbled, sleepy and lost.

Regina held back her sigh, instead leaning down to brush a soft kiss on her son's forehead and standing up to tuck the covers tightly over him. She lingered in the doorway after she turned out the main light, looking at his small figure for a while before going out into the hall.

Regina closed the door behind her, Henry's room sign rattling against the wood. Hand still grasping the doorknob, she released a long sigh, letting herself lean back against the wall for a minute and close her eyes.

After a long time she opened them, releasing the doorknob and running a hand through her hair. She'd meant to go straight to bed after putting Henry to sleep, but before she knew it, her feet were carrying her over the hallway carpet and down the stairs. She pushed the door to the den open with a soft creak of hinges, stepping inside quietly as she could. Inside, the room was awash with pale moonlight where she'd left the curtains open.

Without thinking, Regina found herself walking past the couch. She bent down to pick up the fallen blanket, folding it back over the arm of the sofa. Under the shadowy windowsill, she could see the crumpled photograph lying on the carpet. She picked it up softly, as if in a dream. As she unfolded it with careful fingers, the ache in her chest and the lump in her throat seemed to grow, but she couldn't stop.

Regina stared down at the crumpled picture in the darkness, feeling the press of tears building behind her eyes as they studied the photograph. Despite the white cracks and creases mapping the card like broken glass, the image was still clear, and the photograph glimmered in the moonlight. She brushed a thumb absently over the ruined photo.

Inside the picture, Emma's grinning face looked out at her, green eyes sparkling with laughter, cheeks dimpling as she teased Henry about something. Regina's own face was partially obscured by her hair, but she could see her past smile under the white cracks and lines. She traced a finger down the crease between them.

Abruptly, Regina turned and found herself hurrying back up the stairs towards her bedroom. Inside, she knelt before the drawers under her vanity, and slipped the photograph inside without a second glance at it. She closed the drawer, and made herself sit down on the end of the bed when the world started to blur.

Blinking away the tears, Regina drew back the covers and turned away from the drawer.

She doubted she'd open it again.