Chapter 37

The next three months passed in a haze. The ache in Emma's chest eventually began to subside, although she couldn't pretend it had fully gone away just yet. Sometimes whole days would go by without her noticing it, but then she would see something – a flash of red lipstick, a pair of impractically high heels – and a sad little thump beneath her ribs would remind her why she wasn't quite okay again yet.

She cut her hair, even though Elsa warned her not to until she was certain it wasn't some kind of self-mutilation. Emma had ignored her and walked into the office one Monday morning with it suddenly swinging above her shoulders, and her friend had just sighed. She refused to admit that it looked good because that would have involved encouraging Emma's self-destructive behaviour, and that was increasingly dangerous when she was only one bad day away from getting an angsty tattoo on her forearm.

"Thank God for that," was what Ingrid said when she passed by her desk. "I was getting so sick of looking at those rat tails all day long."

Emma glared back at her. "My hair was never ratty."

"You looked like a Disney princess after a particularly long bachelorette party," Ingrid informed her. "This is much better. You're an actual grown up at last."

Then she'd kept walking, going into her office and not shouting for Emma to get her a coffee because Emma didn't have to do that anymore. After a month of forcing herself not to think about Regina or wonder why she wasn't calling or wish that she would, Emma had finally proven herself worthy of being a member of the editorial team, and had been transferred there full-time as a junior editor. Violet, meanwhile, had turned out to be a better assistant than Emma had ever been – she actually wanted to take Ingrid's notes, for one thing, and she didn't constantly disappear for long lunches that really involved her sleeping off a hangover in the break room.

Really, things should have been good. Emma finally had a job she enjoyed, as well as her own apartment and a totally healthy bank balance. Her promotion had come with a raise, albeit a small one, and she'd managed to buy enough furniture to make her new house feel like a real home. She didn't have rent or a mortgage to pay, thanks to the person who she wasn't allowed to think about, and so for the first time in her life she actually possessed a savings account. It was looking good, too. So maybe Ingrid was right – maybe she was a grown up at last. Maybe the whole Regina incident had been the sort of character-building origin story that would only lead to bigger and better things for her.

Except there was a hole in her chest that never seemed to fill up, and Emma was exhausted from ignoring it. She started working out again because going to a gym and beating the crap out of a punching bag was a much healthier way of channelling her sadness than her preferred method of drinking until she passed out, but her newly sculpted arms and toned stomach did very little to make her feel better about herself.

She'd also started dating again, but never with women. She told herself that that was one step too far, but in reality she knew that no woman could ever match up to the one who'd broken her heart. It was unlikely that any man could either, but at least they were unlikely to look like her or smell like her or wear the same fuck-me heels that made Emma's palms go sweaty.

So she went out on a few dates. Most of the time she took the guy back to her apartment afterwards, because she preferred bad sex to sleeping alone, and then she gave him a fake number and never saw him again. Whenever she and Elsa went out on a Friday night, Emma made sure she found a stranger to curl herself around in the back room. She had a kind of half-idea that if she slept with enough people, the depression would eventually be fucked out of her. In reality, all she ended up with was a very low opinion of herself and a shitty reputation in the drug store where she went to get her Plan B.

After three full months of this, she made a point of not going out one weekend. She told herself it was because she'd had one too many near misses with the herpes virus by then and she didn't want to push her luck, but in reality she was just tired. She missed staying at home on the weekends and listening to someone softly telling her about their week.

"You know, it almost looks like someone with taste lives here now," Elsa said. She had gone round to check on Emma when she'd turned down a night of clubbing that Saturday, and was lounging back on the couch peering around her at the various items that Emma had accumulated in her living room.

"Gee, thanks," Emma said, tucking her newly short hair behind her ear. She was only just starting to realise that cutting it the same length as Regina's was a mistake, because now even the simplest of gestures reminded her of her. She shook the thought out of her head. "Maybe in six months it'll finally be convincing."

"I wouldn't count on it. What the hell is that?" Elsa demanded, using her beer to gesture to the knitted blanket that was thrown over the chair in the corner.

"I found it in a thrift store," Emma said. It was white with a purple ribbon threaded through the edges, and it matched absolutely nothing else in her apartment. "I thought it was kind of cute."

"You thought wrong. It's a shame you don't have a fireplace in here so we could burn it at once."

"There's a stove," Emma shrugged, then reached out to grab Elsa's ankle when she immediately tried to get up. "I'm kidding."

"Don't ever tempt me with arson when there's an ugly-ass throw involved," Elsa said, settling back and swigging her beer. After a beat, she commented lightly, "You're still not drinking, I see."

"No, I'm not."

"You don't sound very pleased about that."

Emma sighed. "It's not a big deal."

"It's a huge deal," Elsa insisted. "How's it been going?"

"…okay. It's been hard. But I finally realised that I drink too much when I'm trying to ignore my problems, and I needed to put a stop to that."

"Well," Elsa smiled back at her. "I think that's some good progress right there. Well done."

Emma just shrugged. She didn't feel very worthy of congratulation.

"What problems are you trying to ignore, though? You're over Regina now, right?" Elsa asked. When Emma didn't respond, she repeated, "Right?"

"I don't know," Emma sighed. "Maybe. Or, no, not really. I don't think about her so much but I definitely still miss her."

"But you had that date with that really cute doctor last week," Elsa said. "What was his name?"

"Whale," Emma said flatly.

"Ew, seriously?"

"Yeah. It's his last name, but I think he gets off on people calling him it because it reminds him of how he saves lives for a living." Emma said. After a pause, she added, "He asked me to call him 'doctor' in bed."

"Emma," Elsa sighed. "You've got to stop putting out on the first date. No wonder you can't get any second ones."

"Excuse me, but the reason I don't have second dates is because I refuse to give out my number and then I kick the guy out of my apartment as soon as the sun has risen. No one is complaining about my skills in the bedroom, trust me."

"That's what everyone thinks," Elsa pointed out.

"Sure, but when I went out with that Walsh guy, he came in like 40 seconds and then had to run home with his tail between his legs. I was, I quote, 'too hot to hold it in'."

Elsa snorted with laughter. "That's quite the compliment. I guess I can forgive you for not wanting to see him again, although I can't vouch for the rest."

"The rest were all… fine. Nothing special. We talked and we danced and we had sex and then we said goodbye. I never wanted any of them to hang around."

Frowning, Elsa said, "Then maybe you're right. Maybe you aren't over her yet."

"I will be eventually," Emma said. "It's just going to take some time. She was… special."

"Yeah," Elsa admitted. "Hot and rich and good in bed. That's a tough triple threat to score."

"Yeah. Anyway," Emma said, waving a hand through the air. "Let's not talk about her. Tell me about the guy you're seeing."

"Well," Elsa said, immediately shimmying forward with an excited grin. "He's called August and he's a bartender and he has a motorbike. He goes upstate every weekend to drive around the woods there and he said he's going to take me next Saturday."

Internally, Emma thought that sounded like the beginning of a horror movie about a serial killer and his too-pretty-for-her-own-good victim. But she knew she was probably only thinking that because she was single and resentful, so she smiled. "That's great. How did you meet him?"

"Three weeks ago when you and I went to Kirby's and I lost you because you were locked in the back room with that guy who sold fridges for a living—"

"Yeah, okay," Emma said, quickly waving a hand. "Maybe let's skip over that part."

"Anyway, I couldn't find you so I went to the bar to ask if anyone had seen you, and August was working. He said he'd only seen one beautiful blonde that night and she was standing right in front of him."

Her cheeks had turned pink, and it would have taken someone a whole lot more heartless than Emma to not be happy for her. "He sounds amazing. But if you do go racing off into the woods with him, please send me your location every 30 minutes."

Elsa was beaming. "Deal."

Elsa left eventually, leaving Emma to deal with her first solo Saturday night in three months. It turned out she'd managed to work her way through every foreign-language documentary Netflix had to offer, and although she now knew far more than she'd like to admit about the Korean War, she couldn't say she felt any better for it. Usually the movies just sent her to sleep while she was still lying on the couch. More often than not, she had weird dreams that were painted with angry brushstrokes while she slept.

She turned the TV off and lay down against the cushions. Her upstairs neighbours seemed to run some kind of nightly salsa class from the comfort of their living room, but apparently even they had gone out that evening. Everything felt very quiet as Emma lay there with her eyes on the ceiling, her hands folded on her stomach.

She heard a buzzing from her phone and sighed, assuming Elsa had left something there and needed to rush back round to get it. In fact, if she came back, maybe Emma could convince her to stay the night. She'd pass it off as not wanting her to walk home by herself, although really she just needed someone to talk to so she wouldn't go crazy talking to herself.

She grappled around on the floor for her phone and lifted it up. Then she blinked. She sat upright.

Incoming call from: Regina

Shock hit her like a train and she nearly dropped the phone altogether. She'd never managed to assign a picture to Regina's contact because she always used to slap the phone out of Emma's hand any time she tried to take a photo of her, but even through the plain black screen that was flashing up at her, Emma could sense Regina nervously waiting for her to pick up. This wasn't a butt dial or Henry calling her on his mother's behalf again – this was the real deal. She just knew it.

She was so panicked by that fact that she didn't manage to answer before it rang out. Her screen went dark once more, and when she tapped the home button it helpfully informed her that she had one missed call.

"Shit," she muttered. She knew she had absolutely no reason to pick up that call, and Regina must have known that too. It had been months since they'd last spoken, and surely that could only be a good thing. Emma shouldn't care that right then Regina must be staring despondently down at her phone, her lips pressed together, hating herself for making the call in the first place and hating Emma even more for not being kind enough to answer it.

Emma groaned and rolled her eyes. "For fuck's sake."

She hit the 'return call' button. She held her breath.

"Hello?"

Oh, God. The sound of her voice snaking down the line, so fucking hopeful with just those two syllables, made Emma's entire body go hot. She fell back down on the couch and closed her eyes.

"Regina," she said, her voice catching slightly. She cleared her throat. "Hey. Sorry, I… uh. I missed your call."

She thought she heard Regina smile. "That's okay. Thank you for calling me back."

"No problem," Emma said. There was a long pause before she asked, "So, what's up?"

"Oh. Well. I…" Regina faltered. Emma could practically hear her biting her lip. "I'm sure you probably have plans tonight. But I was wondering if… if maybe I could see you."

Emma's eye narrowed. "See me?"

"Not a date," Regina quickly clarified. "I just wanted to talk to you about something, and I didn't think dropping by your apartment again would be a good idea."

That soundly weirdly considerate coming from her, and it made Emma frown. "Why do you want to talk to me?"

"I've..." Regina started to say something, then stopped herself. "Emma, look. If you don't want to speak to me then I understand, but I would really like to see you. This isn't something I want to discuss over the phone."

"You're not pregnant with my kid, are you?" Emma asked, and her eyes actually watered when Regina chuckled back at her.

"No. I think you're safe."

"Cool. I mean… anyway," Emma said, pressing her knuckles against her forehead. "When did you want to meet?"

"Well, I'm free right now. But it's Saturday night, so I'm guessing you're not."

If Emma had been smarter or less in love with the woman on the other end of the line, she would have pretended that was exactly the case. But instead she heard herself say, "I don't have any plans. I'm free too."

"Oh," Regina said, sounding pleased. "Would you… Did you want to come to my place?"

She didn't. She so didn't. Except she was already responding, "Sure. I'll head over now."

"I can send Sidney to get you."

"That's okay, Regina. I have gotten used to riding the subway again."

"Okay," Regina said, and yet again Emma could hear the smile in her voice. "Thank you. I'll see you soon?"

"Yeah. See you soon."

Emma hung up without saying goodbye. The second the call was over, her panic set in.

"Oh no," she muttered, getting to her feet and starting to pace around the apartment. "Oh no, oh no, oh no."

This was a terrible idea. Regina couldn't possibly have anything good to say to her – in fact, Emma was probably being summoned because Henry was engaging in classic cry-for-help behaviour and had submitted an erotic story for his creative writing class. Emma knew that seeing Regina wouldn't help anything – in fact, this would almost certainly make everything worse.

And yet she was already diving into her closet, pulling out her tightest dark blue jeans and a black sweater. She switched on her curling iron to warm up while she applied some make-up, and then styled her hair into the short curls that had become her new signature look since her princess locks had been hacked off.

I hope she likes the shorter hair, Emma thought to herself, then immediately wanted to smack herself.

"It doesn't matter what she likes," she snapped, hoping that if she said it out loud it would harden her resolve. "You're going to go round for 10 minutes, listen to what she has to say, and then you're going to leave. The end."

Why she found herself putting on perfume, she had no idea.

"Emma," Regina said as she opened the door, because that was her favourite kind of greeting. 'Hello' and 'hi' meant nothing when you could use the person's name and let them know just how important they were to you.

"Hey," Emma replied, her thumbs looped into her pockets to stop her from awkwardly waving.

Over the past three months, Regina hadn't regained any of the weight she'd lost since she'd shown up at Emma's door. She hadn't lost any more either, which Emma had to take as a positive thing. Otherwise she looked much the same: tentative smile, perfect make-up, just a hint of a shadow puddling beneath her eyes.

She also looked nervous. Her fingers were tapping against the edge of the door.

"Thank you for coming," she said, taking a step back. "Do you want to go through to the living room while I get us something to drink?"

"Sure. Just water for me," Emma said, walking into the apartment that still managed to smell like home.

She could feel Regina's curious expression on the side of her face way before she asked, "…really?"

"Yeah. I've, uh… been steering clear of alcohol recently," Emma shrugged.

Regina raised her eyebrows, but she didn't question why that might be. She gestured for Emma to go into the living room before disappearing into the kitchen.

When she returned with a glass of water in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other, Emma was sitting bolt upright in what used to be her spot on the sofa.

"You've cut your hair," Regina said as she sat down. Emma immediately reached up to fiddle with it.

"Yeah," she said. "I'm still getting used to it."

"I like it. It looks very sophisticated," Regina said, and Emma despised herself for how warm those words made her feel.

Emma didn't say thank you, because she'd been telling herself for the entire ride over that she wasn't going to give Regina the upper hand no matter what. Instead, she just nodded and sat back. Regina's eyes automatically flicked down to watch as she crossed her legs.

"So," Emma said after a silence that was just long enough to be uncomfortable. "It's been a while."

"It has," Regina said, clasping her hands together. "Thank you for coming. I really thought you were going to say no."

Still hating herself for being such a fucking sucker when it came to Regina, Emma smiled tightly. "I was curious."

"Well. I hope I won't disappoint," Regina said. Emma expected some kind of explanation to come next, but Regina just fell silent again.

After a few moments, Emma cleared her throat. "Regina. I know I said I didn't have any plans tonight, but that doesn't mean I wanted to just sit here in silence."

"Right," Regina said, nodding. "So. I wanted to tell you something."

"I got that when you called."

"Of course," Regina took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she was about to say. "Here it is: I'm in therapy."

Emma's eyebrows shot up. That was not what she'd been expecting. "You are?"

Regina nodded, and for the first time since Emma had met her, she actually looked nervous.

"You asked me a long time ago if I'd ever consider it. At the time I thought it was ridiculous, but after we spoke back in February, I started to realise that maybe you had a point."

"Wow. Regina, that's… really great," Emma said, and it nearly broke her heart all over again to see how relieved Regina looked. "How's it going?"

"Good, I think," Regina said. She reached out for her coffee to try and hide her trembling hands. "At first it was difficult to adjust. I'd gotten used to not telling anyone anything that could make me look… weak. But it's been a few months now and I think I'm seeing the benefits."

"What do you talk about?"

"A lot of things. My work, my mother. My food issues," Regina admitted somewhat reluctantly. Then she took a breath and said, "And you."

"Me?"

"I'm afraid she's been subjected to the sorry tale of how I drove you away far too many times," Regina said with a sad smile. Emma hesitantly returned it.

"I'm really happy to hear that you're seeing someone," she said. "But… you know that doesn't fix everything, right?"

"I do," Regina sighed. "But I'm trying. Really. You told me that you wanted to try and get better, and I'm doing the same."

"Well, that's great. Has she said anything useful so far?"

Regina hesitated. "She had some comments on the way I conduct my business arrangements."

"I'm going to assume you're not talking about your board meetings," Emma said dryly.

"No. Emma…" Regina faltered. Her fingers were wrapped tightly around her mug even though Emma knew it must have been burning her. "I found a new companion."

Emma blinked. She should have been expecting this to happen at some point, but that didn't stop the news from crushing her heart like it was caught between two rocks. "Oh."

"His name's Graham," Regina said, carefully watching Emma's face. "I met him at one of Zelena's God-awful parties."

"Right," Emma said, gritting her teeth so that her jaw couldn't tremble. She took a breath and wondered how long she reasonably had to stay there before she would be allowed to walk out and cry. "And how long… How long have you…?"

"Well. You see, that's the thing," Regina admitted. "It lasted two weeks. He was perfectly nice and he already had a few useful industry contacts, but I couldn't go through with it. He asked if he could stay over here one night and I just told him to get out."

Emma wasn't sure whether she was supposed to be pleased about this or not. "Oh."

"I told my therapist about it and she looked like she wanted to strangle me. She asked me why I'd gone down that route again, after everything that had happened with you, and I told her it was because that was the only kind of relationship I enjoyed. So she called me an idiot and said that the only relationship I've ever enjoyed was the one I had with you, and by breaking up with you for a ridiculous reason and then starting the same cycle all over again, I was either being naive and thinking that I could stop myself from getting hurt again, or I was looking to punish myself for hurting you in the first place."

Emma laughed weakly. "She actually called you an idiot?"

"She has a very no-nonsense approach to therapy," Regina said. "I think you'd like her."

"Maybe I should go see her too," Emma said. When Regina smiled back at her, it felt like no time at all had passed between them.

But then Emma had to ruin it all by asking, "Why did you find someone else?" Her voice cracked as she spoke, and Regina's face immediately softened with regret.

"Because I was trying to move on," she said. "I kept missing you and it was torture, so I thought that if I went back to my old ways and found an attractive man to distract me, things might get better."

"Did they?"

Regina just looked at her. "I already told you it only lasted two weeks. What do you think?"

Emma should have been happy to hear that, but she wasn't sure that was an emotion she could summon anymore. All she could imagine was Regina sitting alone, miserably wishing someone was there to hold her, and it hurt her heart. She wished she could reach out and touch her.

"What do you want from me?" she asked. Regina was watching her worriedly, like she'd been waiting for that question since Emma had walked through the door.

"I want your forgiveness." The sentence had the kind of grim determination beneath it that told Emma she'd been rehearsing this for days.

"Forgiveness for what?"

"For everything. For luring you into my life with the promise of making things better for you when really I just made everything worse. For uprooting you and bringing you into my home because I was selfish and lonely, and then kicking you out again because I was selfish and scared."

"Regina," Emma sighed. "You're being too hard on yourself. You also paid off my—"

"Also, for trying to buy you," Regina continued like Emma hadn't said a word. "For using my money as a way to get to your heart and then acting like you were the worse person for it. But mostly for the way I treated you towards the end – you were right. I should have talked to you and told you how I was feeling. Maybe we could have worked through this together."

Emma blinked at her for a moment. "Wow. Therapy really suits you."

Offering her a weak smile, Regina replied, "You know I hate to say this, but you were right. I've needed this for a while."

"I'm right a lot, actually," Emma said. "People just always assume I'm talking crap for some reason."

"Maybe I only believe you now because you've got proper grown-up hair."

Emma automatically reached up to twirl a strand of it around her finger, and Regina looked at it with so much longing that it was nearly impossible not reach out and hug her.

"If I tell you that I forgive you," Emma asked quietly. "What then? Do we finally part ways for good, and you can feel better about yourself knowing that I'm not mad at you anymore?"

"Not quite," Regina said. "Because, as is typical of me, I also want something else from you."

"That sounds about right," Emma said, rolling her eyes and only half joking. "What is it? Do you need a creative writing tutor for Henry?"

Regina laughed. "No, although he would leap at the chance."

"What, then?"

The pause that followed should have told Emma everything.

"I want you back," Regina said. Emma was all too ready to sigh and shake her head, but Regina was already cutting over the top of her. "Listen to me, Emma, please. I want to be with you. And I mean without contracts, without the promise of money, without forcing you to go to events every night or getting furious at you any time you're too busy. You can move into my apartment and make mac and cheese every night for the rest of our lives if you want – I don't care. I just want you back – no bribes, and no conditions."

"But…" Emma said, forcing herself to remain steady because it would have been all too easy to cave. "Why? We've been through all this. We broke up. There was a reason for that."

"The reason was that I was an idiot, and I was scared, and I hurt you because it was the easiest thing to do. But I'm working on myself, and I'm trying to be the person you deserve. And I can't promise that I won't ever hurt you again because, well, you know me too well for that. You'd never believe me. But I can promise to try harder, and to listen to you better, and to fight for you even when things get tough. I can promise not to run away again."

There was a roaring in Emma's head that sounded like a fire. It was getting harder to breathe.

"Therapy can't have changed you that much," she said slowly.

"It hasn't. I'm still the same old me," Regina said, gesturing down at herself with a little less self-loathing than Emma had come to get used to. "But I suppose I'm more self-aware now, and I'm trying to be less of an asshole."

"And is that supposed to be enough?" Emma asked. "Am I supposed to just go, 'oh, you broke my heart and made me think I'd never be able to fall in love again, but as long as you're sorry then I guess it's cool'?"

Regina sighed. "You know, this is exactly why I never used to apologise to anyone."

"Just because you said sorry doesn't automatically mean people have to forgive you. You do know that, right?"

"Yes, of course I know that," Regina snapped, and Emma felt an overwhelming surge of relief when she heard the tone of her voice shift. She'd missed many things about Regina, but their constant bickering was by far the most unexpected. "I fully understand why you might not want to come back to me. But I'm still allowed to ask, aren't I? Do you think I could live with myself if I didn't try?"

Regina had always had a flair for the dramatic, and right then it warmed Emma all the way down to her broken little heart.

"I get that," she said quietly. "But… I'm not sure that it's enough."

Something that was either anger or despair flashed in Regina's eyes, and she bit out, "It's not enough? It's not enough that nothing is right for me anymore, and that I'm begging, actually begging, for you to give me another chance?"

Emma could only look back at her, and Regina must have seen something that looked like pity on her face, because she finally snapped.

"Fine," she said, slamming her mug back down on the table so hard that it splashed coffee onto the carpet. "That's just great. If me being in love with you isn't enough for you, then I guess you're even more stubborn than I thought."

Everything in the apartment suddenly went very still. A tremor took hold of Emma's body and threatened to topple her to the floor.

"You're…" she started, but her voice cracked. She swallowed and tried again. "You're what?"

For a second, Regina looked just as irritated as before. Then the realisation dawned over her and she went pale.

"I…" She cleared her throat. "Nothing. It's not important."

"You're in love with me?" Emma demanded.

"Emma, it's not—"

"Since when?"

"Does that really matter?"

"Of course it matters. Since when?"

There was a tell-tale dark flush in Regina's cheeks that meant she was both embarrassed and annoyed. "Don't sound so surprised. You must have known."

"Yes, Regina, I knew – but you also refused to say it for months. I'm allowed to be a little shocked that you've finally grown some balls and blurted it out."

"Don't talk about balls right now," Regina snapped, and it was impossible for Emma not to laugh at her when she was being so self-righteous. "And stop giggling! This is a serious conversation!'

"I know, I know," Emma said, pressing a hand over her mouth. "It's just… ridiculous. This whole thing is so stupid."

"Well, I'm glad you think so," Regina glared at her.

"Regina, stop pouting. Tell me – since when?"

With a sigh that shook her entire body, Regina said, "Since day one, you idiot."

"Oh, I'm the idiot here?"

"Of course you are! I fell for you the second I saw you arguing with that stupid wannabe-rockstar in Barnes & Noble. Why the hell else do you think I took you out for a drink and then wouldn't stop calling you? Do you think I do that with strangers on a daily basis because I'm just such a kind person at heart?"

"I've never suspected you were a kind person at heart," Emma said, totally deadpan. Regina's cheeks flushed even darker.

"Is this supposed to make me happy I told you?"

"You've barely told me anything yet."

"What else do you need to hear?" Regina all but exploded, and Emma could see that she was bordering on collapsing under her humiliation. "I fell in love with you, and I ignored it because I didn't have the time or the inclination to be in love with someone. I kept assuming you would just leave because I was never very nice to you, but you got closer and closer and I loved it, and I kept ignoring the fact that you were making me happier than I'd ever been in my life because the second I acknowledged it, I would be screwed. Then you tried to tell me you loved me and everything went to hell anyway."

"How did it go to hell?" Emma asked, and for some reason the giggles were building up inside her again. This whole thing was completely fucking absurd, and suddenly she wasn't sure it mattered how much Regina had hurt her – under it all, she was just an idiot. An idiot in love who had been too stubborn to admit it to herself.

"You know how. Because I was a coward and told you to leave when I should have just said that I love you too."

"But now you're suddenly willing to tell me?"

"Yes, because I've been without you for four months and I'm miserable and absolutely nothing is worth this," Regina said. "I was ashamed because you saw how I acted around my mother, and how you had to take care of me afterwards, but being without you isn't somehow better than being humiliated by that."

"Regina," Emma sighed. "Why are you so stupidly fucking stubborn? You could have just said."

"I know," Regina said, suddenly reaching out to grab hold of Emma's hand. "I could have. I should have. But I've never been in love before – not like I am with you – and I handled it terribly. There are a hundred things I could have done differently and I wish I had, but it's too late for that now. All I can do is apologise and tell you I love you, and hope that you'll be braver than I've been."

It sounded like Regina was talking to her from down a very long tunnel. Emma's head had gone soft and foggy, and there was only one thing she could concentrate on.

"You're in love with me," she said, sounding dazed. Maybe the more she repeated it, the more it would make sense. "You're in love with me."

Regina looked like she was going to snap at her again, but then she saw the dreamy expression on Emma's face and it just made her chuckle. "Yes, although I have no idea why."

Her gentle laugh curled its way through Emma's chest and before she could stop herself, Emma was giggling all over again. "You're in love with me."

Regina joined in, although it was obvious that she didn't even know what she was laughing at. "You're not taking this seriously."

Because Emma was clutching her stomach with her free hand, and tears that were half from laughter and half from stupid relief were rolling down her cheeks. "You are such an idiot."

"I know."

"I can't believe you did all this. We could have been together this whole time. We could have been happy."

"I know," Regina repeated, and she so badly wanted to sound mournful and sincere, but the giggles had taken hold of both of them and all she could do was choke out another, "I really am sorry."

"Say it again."

"I'm sorry."

"Not that – the other thing."

Regina smiled and squeezed her hand once more. "I'm in love with you, Emma. Even though you're a moron and you drive me absolutely crazy."

Emma sniggered and wiped her eyes. "It helps that you're just as dumb as I am, though."

"It does."

"Say it again."

"Emma…"

"Just once more. Please."

Regina edged towards her, and for a second Emma thought she was going to kiss her. She felt her entire body lean toward her of its own accord, but Regina just looked deep into her eyes, no longer laughing. "I love you, Emma, and I'm sorry for hurting you. I want to be with you for real, and I would like it if you could forgive me, but I won't force you into it. This is your decision."

There was hope in her face, though. Hope that made Emma's brain melt into a pool at the base of her skull.

She reached out without thinking and pulled Regina forward, kissing her hard, peppering her lips all over her mouth and cheeks and forehead. She felt Regina's entire body relax, her relief puffing out of her like a wisp of smoke, and Emma's own chest loosened slightly with it.

"I'm not being a pushover," Emma muttered, pulling away from Regina's mouth by an inch.

"I know that," Regina said, but her eyes had already fluttered closed. Her hands were squeezing hold of Emma's waist, but she didn't move to kiss her back. She didn't trust herself to do that yet.

"I just really, really missed you," Emma clarified.

"I really missed you too," Regina sighed. She paused before admitting, "I've had walls up around me for so long, and only someone as wily and ridiculous as you could have chipped your way through them. I don't know how you managed to make yourself such a comfortable presence in my life, but I do know that I'll never stop loving you, Emma. Trying to ignore it only meant that you got hurt, and I won't ever forgive myself for that."

Emma let out a sound that was half a laugh and half a bubble of relief bursting. She dipped her head and caught Regina's mouth again, and this time she felt her finally starting to kiss back.

Her hands slid into Regina's hair, remembering in intense detail the thousands of times she'd kissed her like this and how wonderful it was to feel her leaning into it again. Regina's fingernails were digging into the small of her back, and it was like they'd finally scratched an itch that had been bugging Emma for months.

She could feel the happiness brewing up inside her, but there was something niggling at the back of her mind. She pulled away from the kiss so abruptly that she caught Regina's blink of disappointment.

"If you do any of this again," Emma said, brushing Regina's hair away from her face, "I'll take that Camille Henrot painting you love so much and I'll throw it off the balcony."

Regina smiled softly. "I won't. I promise."

"Cross your heart?" Emma demanded, and Regina threw her the soppiest, happiest grin Emma had ever seen in her life. She realised then that she didn't even need an answer.

"Cross my heart," Regina said anyway, and Emma believed her. She didn't feel even the faintest shred of doubt.

She crawled forwards and buried herself in Regina's neck, not kissing her anymore but just holding her because she'd missed being cradled by Regina's arms more than anything. Regina immediately pulled her closer, hooking Emma's legs over her own until she was curled up in her lap, and she held her tight. When she pressed a kiss against Emma's forehead, everything somehow felt right again.

"I missed you," Emma sighed against her shoulder, and she felt Regina's chest swell beneath her.

"I missed you too, darling," she said. "And I'm never letting you go again."