I used to think about her all the time. So it shouldn't feel so new.

She used to live like an itch in the back of my brain - one I was intent on scratching, clawing out. For so long her name alone, Snow White, made fire flare behind my eyes and in the palms of my hands.

Nothing good has ever come from her being so on my mind.

Though it does feel different than it did before.

I'm not even sure when things changed. It feels like some kind of metamorphosis took place while my mind was too full to dwell on her - full of Henry, Storybrooke, Robin…

Until one day I noticed that even though she wasn't in my thoughts, she was standing steadfast beside me.

I'd given her no reason to, but there she was regardless - a stubborn smile on her face and green eyes twinkling with all the goodness I gave up trying to kill her.

Even those famous hope speeches, once used to inspire men to take up arms against me, now assured me of my own worth and the promise of a happy ending still to come.

And what had seemed infuriating for years - her earnestness, her optimism, her gentle strength - made me feel steadier now that she was on my side.

But it also made me stop and wonder if maybe that was where she'd always been, even through years of struggle and bloodshed. If maybe the wars we waged were more one sided than I remember…

Then I couldn't stop thinking about her.

Because the fire and hate she used to ignite in me have faded, leaving behind echoes that are delicate and warm and softer than they should be.

It's a nice feeling.

And a terrifying one.

A lifetime of pain and loss have taught me to fear feelings like this. And because it's her…Well, that makes everything worse.

Though both of us have changed, become different people, we can't erase the past and who we used to be. I know. I've tried.

And though I've seen how big her heart is, held it in my hand, I still can't believe that there's forgiveness enough in it for me. Not after everything.

But I can't regret any of it. After all, it led me to my son. And the life I have with Henry, because of him, has made me better, helped the darkness lose its hold.

It's made forgiveness possible.

And because of that, Snow and I can find new ways of existing together, new ways of being in each other's lives. Less painful ways. Better ways.

Ways that sometimes make me wonder if it could be like this all the time…

It's just the two of us. Snow is next to me, humming softly, wrist deep in dish water. We're washing up after the dinner Henry insisted I throw. But for a 'family event' I seem to end up doing most of the work.

Emma and Killian, ever subtle, had left claiming an 'early night.' Henry's already upstairs asleep. And Snow had sent David home, insisting she needed to stay and help clean.

I'm glad she did.

Not because I need her help. I don't. She came over early to watch me cook, and though her cleaning skills far surpass her cooking skills, I didn't need her help then either.

But I like having her here - in my kitchen, in my house, in this moment that can only last as long as the pile of dishes by the sink takes to clean and put away.

I'd make it last longer if I could, keep Snow beside me as she washes and I dry, listing to her hum quietly.

Briefly, I wonder what it would be like if the moment didn't end at all. What it would be like if she hadn't stayed to wash dishes, but just stayed.

I glance over at her. From the corner of my eye I can see her smiling. My head goes a little light, and I can't help smiling myself.

It won't last though.

It can't.

She has to go home sometime.

But then a part of me wonders what she would say if I asked her not to leave? And if I turned right now and kissed her, would she even want to?

As soon as the thought enters my mind, the smile falls from my face. While the image and question it poses will linger - shadows of an idea that I don't dare look right at for fear of how they could affect me - it's a terrible idea. Because for so long all I wanted was to hurt her. From the moment I blamed her for Daniel's death to every attempt on her life and her happiness since.

And now that I just want her I'm afraid it will hurt her anyway. God knows that the last thing I want now is to cause Snow White more pain. We've done enough of that and come too far to start moving backward.

"Here" she says, bumping her shoulder against mine. The contact makes my chest pull tight, and I almost don't take the dripping dinner plate she's holding out to me.

I do though, and as I take it our fingers graze against each other. The tightness in my chest bursts, and my hands tremble as I wipe the dish dry.

She doesn't notice. I don't think she does anyway. Her eyes stay fixed on the bottom of the sink.

Biting my tongue I turn to put the plate up with the others in the cabinet. My skin tingles where it connected with hers.

When I turn back, she's looking at me. It's just a slight turn of her head while she finishes rinsing the remaining plates.

"What?" I ask, voice coarser than I'd like. I feel exposed, caught in some way, like she knows how much she's been on my mind.

But she only says, "Nothing" and looks back down at the sink.

I sigh and roll my eyes. She knows that I have no patience for things like this.

"If you have something to say, Snow, say it." I don't bother hiding the edge in my words.

But when she looks back at me, a small smile on her face, her answer isn't what I thought it would be.

"I just wanted to know where you keep the plates."

My eyes narrow.

"Why?"

She shrugs and stacks the last of the dishes up on the counter.

"I don't know…I guess just to know how you like to organize your kitchen."

There's something in her words that doesn't ring true, or maybe it's only half true.

But she quickly adds "You know, so I can put them away next time."

And whatever loose threads I thought I could pull at fall away, and 'next time' is all that I hear.

It makes me feel a kind of cozy tightness, like this moment is wrapping itself around me and helping to hold in all the happiness.

I just nod though and step back to the counter to dry and put back the last few plates.

As I do, Snow turns off the faucet and shakes her wet hands. I hold the towel out so she can wipe them properly. But instead of taking it from me, she starts to dry her hands while the towel is still in mine - brushing against each other at the knuckles, wrists, palms.

I'm swallow hard, heat settling just under my skin.

At first I watch the towel. Then when I glance up, I see that her eyes are on the towel too. So, I take a moment just to look at her. And standing so close, right in front of me, I can see in detail the way her dark hair falls against her forehead, the line between her eyebrows that deepens when she's upset, the way the hot water has turned her cheeks pink.

She's so beautiful. I can't believe there was a time when the sight of her didn't make my breath catch.

When Snow pulls back, she smiles at me. I smile at her too. And it comes so easily and feels so good just standing here with her like this.

Then she sighs, and my heart sinks.

"I guess I should get home."

But I don't want her to leave.

I want to hold her and cry and laugh and be held. I want to read in the same room, and listen to her sing in the shower, and stay up late watching bad movies.

I want her to know that I'm sorry for everything and understand how much I mean it. I want her to apologize so I can tell her it's not needed and mean it just as much.

I want to stop feeling guilty anytime we're together and David is there too.

I want to hold her face in my hands and kiss her so gently that it undoes every wrong between us. I want her to lean back in and kiss me so hard that neither of us can remember them anyway.

I want to give her back twice of everything I've ever stolen from her.

I want…

I sigh.

I don't want either of us to hurt anymore. That's it. And if I can have that for both of us that will be enough. God knows I'll convince myself that that will be enough.

I don't dare wish for more. My wishes have never come true anyway.

So, I just nod and walk with her to the front door, pulling it open to the black night outside.

And it feels strange looking out at the darkness from the warmth and light of my foyer, like when Snow leaves the light might just follow her out.

It won't, though it does make me stop and wonder what our lives would have been like if I hadn't been so intent on snuffing that light out - the light in her, the light in myself, the light that might have burned bright between us if I'd let it.

What would our lives have been like if they hadn't been so shaped by darkness?

Would our story have been different?

But even if the possibility had existed, it doesn't matter now. We can't unwrite what's already been written.

We can only move forward and keep filling in new pages - doing our best to make something we're proud of. And despite our pasts, as messy and full of pain as they may be, we can never give up hope that the ending will be a happy one.

Snow was the one who showed me that.

So, maybe one day I'll her I love her.

But not-

"Regina,"

I blink, realizing that she's still here, standing in the open doorway looking at me.

"Thank you for tonight."

I nod.

"Well Henry wants to start doing more things with all of us-"

But before I've finished, she's shaking her head.

"No, not that."

My brows crease, and Snow rolls her eyes.

"Though that was nice too. What I'm trying to say-"

She takes my hand and squeezes.

"Thank you for the moments tonight with just the two of us."

Then, without another word from either of us, she's turning and walking away, down the path to her car.

Our hands, though, linger.

Maybe because she didn't let go until she had to. Maybe because I reached out after her. Maybe both.

And as I watch her get into her car, and flash a last smile at me before she drives away I think-

No I won't tell her today.

But maybe someday soon.