(A/N: This chapter contains description of rape and rape aftermath. It is very dark and heavy stuff, so if you in any way feel triggered by this, please, please do not read this. Take the trigger warning seriously.)

She had halfway climbed into bed when the realization hit her like a ton of bricks.

She would rather have her head slammed into a wall than missing another meal with her son. She would rather walk bare footed on hot coal rather than making Henry concerned again.

Regina made a quick decision. No way she was going to hide under the covers again. Henry was HER son. HER responsibility. And she refused to miss out on anymore time with him. He was her number one priority. He came before anything and everything else. It was her responsibility to ensure that he was safe and happy and cared for, and she would NOT let his childhood be dominated by a mother who wasn't there. A mother who was too tired to participate in her own son's life. No way in hell.

She had to be better than this.

Regina firmly turned her back on the bed. Went over to the closet and found what she was looking for. Clothes that made her feel like she was somewhat in control. Still held an ounce of power.

She had chosen a suit. Black, straight legged dress pants and a matching black blazer with shoulder pads. She ignored all the white button downs on display and chose her favorite apple-red button down instead. Red had always represented strength and power to her.

She weighted the clothes in her hands. It was a very 'masculine' outfit. Probably the most masculine outfit she owned. Killian hadn't liked it. Of course he hadn't. He had preferred her in skirts and dresses. Short dresses. Dresses that made her accessible to his advantages whether she wanted it or not.

Well, he could go to hell. Regina was going to proudly wear this suit. And for once, it had nothing to do with this not being a skirt day. She was not going to wear the suit because she felt unsafe in skirts.

She was going to wear it because she felt like doing so. And she could damn well wear whatever the hell she wanted to wear!

With her head held high and her jaw set, Regina determinately walked into the bathroom and took a shower. A quick one. Without lingering too much as she ran the loofah over her skin. Today was one of the days where she wished she didn't have a body. One of the days where she wished that she physically could climb out of her body. She felt dirty and soiled and icky all over.

Like she always did when she thought about the rape.

It was one of the things she had pushed away after the suicide attempt.

The beating, the strangulation was quite enough.

The humiliating, excruciating rape was more than she could cope with.

So, she had pushed it back and refused to cope with it unless she absolutely had to.

But as she stood under the spray of warm water, she could feel how something had shifted inside of her. Something important.

She was ready to talk about it.

The rape.

She was ready to share her thoughts and feelings about the subject. She could feel in her bones.

It was time.

After almost eight months of shoving the feelings back and running away from the subject, she was prepared to open up.

Regina had not thought this day would ever come.

When she came out of the sedative haze in the hospital, she had tried faking a memory loss. For a few weeks, she had firmly claimed that she could not remember anything. Not the attack. Not the rape. But then everything started piling up in her head. And then she had tried to commit suicide. It was after that, she admitted to Zelena that she had been able to remember all of it all the time. There had never been a memory loss.

Zelena's answer had been a simple 'I know'.

Of course, she did. Zelena was a wise woman. Not many things slipped past her attention. But she had never brushed the subject. She had willingly played Regina's 'if we don't talk about it, then it never happened'-game.

But that was just the problem.

It had happened.

For a minute (maybe a little more, maybe a little less) it had happened. And no matter how short it had lasted, that one minute would haunt Regina for the rest of her life. The attack was one thing.

The beating (however tragic it sounded), was something Regina had 'gotten used to'. She had learned how to cope with it when it happened. She had learned to distance herself from it and imagine that she was walking down a sunny road with Henry by her side. She had become an expert in hiding the bruises with makeup.

But the rape was in a category of its own.

Something snaps and breaks inside of you when you are violated in such a vile, cruel manner.

You lose a piece of yourself.

A tiny fraction that can't ever be found no matter how hard you try.

More than ever, Regina wished that Killian had knocked her out. That she had fainted from all the trauma to her head. But she had been wide awake during it all. She had seen, heard and felt everything he was doing to her.

She would never forget how it felt when he was weighting her down.

She would never forget the fact that he was smiling while hurting her.

A big triumphant grin stretching out on his lips and turning his face into a cruel mask. Finally, victorious. Finally having her exactly where he wanted to have her.

Regina switched the water off and stepped out of the shower. Grabbed her towel but did not wrap it around herself like she normally would. Instead she stepped over to the mirror and used a snip of the towel to wipe it free of steam.

Her reflection greeted her, and everything in Regina bade her to look away. Normally, she couldn't stand looking at herself.

She couldn't today either. But she still kept looking at herself. Looking and looking at her naked body. The body that Killian Jones had violated so terribly. And not just that night, Regina knew that now. He had gaslighted her many, many times into believing that she wanted sex as much as he did, but that night, it had been the first time gas lightening had been traded for unfiltered cruelty.

Her skin crawled in that particular manner it always did, and Regina quickly turned her back on her reflection. She couldn't stand looking at herself. Her body was a walking reminder of what had happened. What had been done to her.

There was that urge to climb out of her body again.

Everything piled up in her head and she felt dangerously close to tears. Her body didn't feel like her own. She could feel Killian's hands all over it. Claiming her over and over again. Her throat closed up.

Regina took a deep breath. Then she toweled off and rubbed said towel over her hair until it was dry. Then she put her clothes on. Carefully buttoned the little buttons with fingers that weren't doing her bidding entirely. Her fingers were a bit stiff. Or at least the two fingers that Killian broke that night were. She had to curl and uncurl them a few times to warm them up.

She shrugged on the blazer and looked at her reflection again. Looking at herself felt a fraction better when she was dressed. She could hide herself behind the fabric. It felt safer, somehow.

She brushed her hair thoroughly and then applied a bit of makeup to her face. Mascara. Wine red lipstick. There was something about the color red today. She needed it. Needed to feel powerful. She needed the extra courage the color red always had provided her with.

Regina fluffed up her hair and straightened her posture. She supposed she was a bit proud of herself. Simply because she was standing up. Because she was dressed. She was up when all she wanted was to hide in her bed and never face the world.

But not today. No. Today she was going to face the world and so much more. She was going to talk (or not 'talk') about 'it'. The elephant in the room. Perhaps that letter to Emma had been cleansing in some way. It had at least given her the courage to finally put some words on Killian's double betrayal.

Regina left the bathroom and went back inside her bedroom where she found her phone laying on the bedside table. She grabbed it and sent a text to Kristine explaining that she was struggling a lot today and had some things she needed to talk to her about. She held no illusions that Kristine had time to see her today, but it wouldn't harm asking, right?

Kristine was her completely amazing therapist who was the person who knew her the best except for Zelena. Kristine was blonde with white streaks in her hair, in her mid-forties, mild-mannered, patient and Norwegian. She had a certain way of speaking so it sounded like singing, and that was initially the thing that had made Regina feel at ease.

It did not take long before her phone chimed, and Regina impatiently grabbed the device and checked the message from Kristine:

'Good morning, Regina. I am sorry to hear that you are struggling today. I have an opening at 08:30 this morning. Shall I book you in so we can have a good chat about everything?'

'Yes, please.' Regina felt the relief settling in her chest as a soothing warmth. Kristine had time for her today. Thank god.

'I've booked you in. I will see you very soon. Will you be okay until then?'

'I'll be fine. Thank you for taking me in on such short notice.'

'I am here to help you, Regina. That includes on short notice too.'

Regina took a deep breath and put her phone away. She could hold it together until she saw Kristine. At least she thought so.

And the timing was good too. With her appointment being at 08:30, she could give Henry a ride to school if he wanted. Regina had a feeling that he would. He rarely said no when she offered to give him a ride.

With her emergency appointment with Kristine confirmed, Regina slipped the phone back inside the pocket of her blazer. Straightened her back and then left her bedroom.

The moment she sat foot on the top of the stairs, she got another flashback. In glimpses, she saw herself running up the stairs with Killian right behind her.

Regina's shoulders curled and her stomach rolled. She was all flashback and odd pains today. Like she always was when she had an appointment with Kristine. The 'build-up' to the therapy session was always painful, but she did feel a little better afterwards. That was the norm. But she had no idea how she would react today when she was planning on deep diving into her feelings about 'the other thing' as she had labelled it in her head. Just the word 'rape' made her feel sick to her stomach. Sometimes it felt like it had not happened to her. That it had been another Regina who had experienced that.

But it wasn't. It had happened to her.

And the other Regina had faded out of existence the first time Killian Jones hit her.

She swallowed her saliva and continued down the stairs.

Her arrival in the kitchen was the cause of some surprise. First there was Henry who eagerly chirped: "mom! I thought you weren't feeling well today?'

And then there was Zelena raising her eyebrow in that familiar 'should you be up?'-fashion.

Yes. Yes, she should be up. Regina flashed her son a smile and noted with a slight wince that there was some definite stiffness in her fingers as she signed: 'I have an appointment at eight thirty. Would you like a ride to school today?'

"Yeah, that would be awesome, mom! Thanks!" Henry grinned.

Regina smiled back at him. He was happy. He had clearly expected her to be a no-show today. He had thought she was upstairs in bed, sick. But not today.

"An appointment?" Zelena asked quietly as Regina sat down and helped herself to a cup of coffee.

Regina nodded and smoothened the black scarf she had chosen today. Then she took a sip of her coffee. She didn't have the shadow of an appetite this morning, so coffee it was.

"An EA?" Zelena asked just as hushed as she had spoken before.

Regina nodded again in confirmation. AE. Their made-up word for emergency appointment with Kristine.

Zelena said nothing. Just nodded.

Regina kept her attention divided between her coffee and her son. He was chattering on about an assignment he was going to work on next week, but while he was talking, the little crease between his eyebrows never disappeared. He definitely knew that something was going on. And he was concerned. Again.

Regina felt like the worst mother in the world as she watched her son sit there and pretend that this was just a normal morning when it clearly wasn't. He was studying her face too intensely. Sometimes it felt like he was capable of looking right through her.

Regina flashed him a smile and hoped that was enough to assure him that everything was fine.

Henry tilted his head. "Are you feeling better?"

Regina nodded eagerly and wondered whether the lie was obvious on her face. She felt awful. Constantly on the verge of texting Kristine and telling her that she had to cancel, but at the same time sure that she had to see Kristine today. She had to talk about this today. Otherwise she never would be able to.

"That's good," Henry said softly and sounded a bit more like himself when he asked: "Can I hang out with Nick and Ava after school today? We're gonna study together for that assignment thing."

Regina couldn't see the harm in that, so she nodded. She knew that Henry, Nick and Ava actually did study together. They didn't goof around like some students tended to do when studying together.

"Thanks, mom."

Regina flashed him another smile and was then distracted by something she could see in her peripheral vision. The letter to Emma. Her stomach curled, and she fought the urge to throw the letter into the fireplace. But she had vowed to herself to tell Emma everything about her Killian and her missing voice and Liam. Everything.

But still, she dreaded Emma's reaction when she read the letter.

Her stomach rolled again.

Regina took another deep, soothing breath and reminded herself that she would be seeing Kristine in not too long. Kristine knew everything. Even the things Regina had been vague about. And she knew about Emma and Regina's weak attempt at connecting with someone new. Kristine had several times called Emma for 'a good and healthy thing' for Regina. 'A new beginning'.

That was exactly the feeling Regina had had when she was with Emma. She'd had the hope of a new start with a lovely woman. A very slow, hesitant start, but nevertheless a start.

Right now, that new start had never seemed more far away. Nor had Emma. What would she think when she read the letter?

Regina did not know, and she was terrified of finding out. But still determined that the letter had to go to Emma. No matter what. Emma had been brave enough to ask a mute woman on a date. Regina could be brave enough to tell her the truth about why she was mute.

She took another sip of her coffee, silently counting the minutes until she could sit down on the couch in Kristine's office and unload.

Next to her, Zelena shifted on her chair. It was obvious that she was desperate to talk to Regina but couldn't because Henry was present. That soothed Regina just fine. Now was not the time for Zelena to ask her if she should be out of bed. The tiniest little comment, and Regina could change her mind about going to see her therapist. One wrong remark at the wrong time, and she would be willing to sweep the nasty stuff under the carpet again. Bury it deep and refuse to think about it.

And she couldn't go on like that. She had to let it all out.

"Are you sure you're okay with driving?" Zelena asked frowned in concern. "I don't like it. You haven't slept at all last night."

'I'll be fine,' Regina signed and tried not to wrinkle her nose at the stiffness in her fingers. 'I've had plenty of coffee, and I really need to see Kristine.' She did. She was truly struggling today. The letter to Emma had opened a can of worms, and she needed a place to dump that metaphorical can. She needed to unload in a place where a professional could give her advices of what to do with her feelings. Zelena was wonderful, but there were certain things Regina would not put her through. And the details of exactly what Killian had done to her that night, was one of them. Zelena had already heard that in the hospital. She had seen the physical evidence of Killian's abuse all over Regina's face. She didn't need to hear about it one more time.

"I understand that," Zelena said gently. "But can't I take you then? We can drive Henry to school together, I can drive you to Kristine's and then wait for you outside afterwards."

Regina shook her head. She knew that Zelena was more than happy to drive her. And under most circumstances, Regina would have accepted the offer. But not today. She had a feeling that she was going to be an absolute mess when the therapy session was over. And she didn't want Zelena to see that. She was already seeing Regina break down way too often.

Zelena's lip curled but she didn't protest. "Did you book the appointment with Kristine last night?" she asked instead.

Regina shook her head and corrected: 'no, this morning. I'm very grateful she had time to take me in today.'

Zelena said nothing. Just studied her face intensely. Perhaps she was trying to guess Regina's state of mind. That could be tough sometimes. During the years with Killian, Regina had learned to master the perfect poker face.

Regina chewed at her bottom lip. The memories of what Killian had done to her that night pressed against her chest like glass wanting to puncture her skin. It felt like the memories of it were clearer than ever. His smirking face above her. His noises of triumph. His unfiltered pleasure as he was inflicting pain upon her. He enjoyed watching her struggle.

She felt so dirty.

So soiled.

She was what Killian Jones had chewed and spat out.

Garbage.

Disposable.

"I'm ready!"

Regina flinched at the loud sound and then got angry with herself because that was her son, goddamnit! She didn't FLINCH at her son's voice. That was house rule number one.

She quickly put on a smile and ruffled her son's hair. Brushed a bit of dirt away from his black cardigan and then signed and asked him if he had all the things he needed.

"Yup," Henry confirmed and flashed her a little smile. "I'm all ready."

So was Regina. She had already put on her coat and boots. Now she wrapped an arm around Henry.

"Bye, aunt Z," Henry called over his shoulder.

"Bye, Hen," Zelena said. She still sounded concerned. Clearly didn't like the idea of Regina driving by herself.

But Regina knew that she had to drive by herself. This was the one time where she did not want her sister to pick her up from her therapy. This was something she had to do on her own.

She and Henry left the house and walked over to the Mercedes. Henry begged to sit in the front seat, but as so many times before, Regina shook her head and reminded him that he had to be a bit taller still.

Henry mock pouted as he climbed onto the backseat instead, and he managed to briefly coax a smile out of Regina. A genuine smile. She didn't have many of those today, and when she hopped into the driver's seat and started the car, she was grateful she had Henry in the backseat. If it wasn't for him, she probably would have gotten lost in her own head.

And not just today.

But she found it hard to engage with him. And not just because she was incapable of physically answering him. The shadows that so often clouded her mind were worse than ever today. Killian was everywhere. He was the man crossing the street. The guy riding past her car on his bicycle. The man walking his dog on the pavement. In the backseat with Henry. Even in the passenger seat next to her.

Regina pressed her lips together. He was not here, he was not here, he was not here! Whatever she thought she was seeing…. It was not real. None of it was real. It was all in her head.

Killian was far, far away. In jail. For the rest of his life. He would never get to her again.

"Mom?"

Regina made eye contact with her son in the rearview mirror to show that she was listening.

"Will you help me build a volcano for my science project next week?"

Regina nodded. There was nothing she'd want more than helping her son with building a volcano.

"Cool," Henry grinned. "We have to make it cooler than Ava's, though."

That actually coaxed a genuine smile out of Regina. Oh, the friendly rivalry between her son and Ava Zimmerman. She was a bright girl. A very bright girl. A real hawk when it came to science. She had often helped Henry out whenever there was a difficult test or subject. She was a sweet girl. And Nick was a sweet boy. Their father ditto. Regina admired Mr. Zimmerman a lot. It couldn't have been easy for him, suddenly becoming a widowed man with two young children when his wife unexpectedly passed away a few years ago.

Henry chattered on about his upcoming science project and how they had to make sure that the volcano was 'smoking properly'. Regina listened carefully to every word he said, and his passionate volcano-talk actually did chase some of the shadows out of her mind. As so many times before, Henry was her greatest source of comfort.

"Are you going to see Dr. Kristine?" Henry asked, his pronunciation of the name making Regina smile.

She nodded. Her sessions with 'Dr. Kristine' was no secret. Only the reason was. Henry thought that she was seeing a therapist because of the 'car accident'. That that was what had caused her trauma. Regina felt bad for lying to her son, but whenever she started to feel guilty, she reminded herself that Henry was only ten and much, much too young to know the real reason why his mother was seeing a therapist. He didn't need to know the reason why Killian had disappeared from their lives so suddenly. At least not right now. Perhaps when he was older. Someday in many, many, many years.

And he had never asked for Killian since 'the accident'. Hadn't asked if they could go see him or anything. He had confessed to Regina that he was angry at Killian for crashing the car and nearly killing Regina and 'stealing your voice, mom!'.

He was more right than he ever could have imagined to be.

Regina accepted his anger. It was okay for him to be angry.

"Was that why you were up last night?" Henry asked quietly. "Because you were feeling bad?"

Regina nodded and wished that she could sign something that would soothe him. Like… she was feeling better now. Or… she would feel better after talking to Kristine. That was true. She would. It was just getting started that was so damn difficult!

"I'm sorry," Henry murmured.

Oh, god no! Regina shook her head firmly and flashed him a reassuring smile. A mom-smile. An 'everything is going to be fine'-smile. She had flashed Henry so many of those lately….

"Bye, mom! See you later!"

Regina nodded and gave her son a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. And the instruction to pay attention to what his teachers were saying, of course.

Not that it was ever necessary. Henry was very good at paying attention in class. Regina smiled as she wiggled her fingers.

"I love you too, mom," Henry grinned. "I'll take the bus home, right?"

Regina nodded in confirmation. She would not be in any position to pick him up later after her therapy session. She would most likely be completely crushed and tired and everything that wasn't nice. And Zelena would be at work. But that was okay. Henry had taken the bus home a million times.

Her head was starting to feel properly muddled, and Regina felt her shoulders crawl up towards her ears as she sat tight and waited for Henry to find his friends. She liked sticking around until he had walked inside the school building. If that was another 'lurking mom' thing, she was only proud to be a lurking mom. She smiled as she saw Henry reunite with Nick. The other boy bumped his shoulder against Henry's and his twin sister Ava came over and shamelessly ruffled his hair in greeting. She was one of the very few people who could get away with that.

Now that she had seen Henry find his friends and joke and laugh with them as they went inside, Regina started the car and drove off. Her head was feeling heavier and heavier and she could do absolutely nothing to prevent the flashbacks from attacking her.

The staircase.

Running up, up, up.

Tripping and loosing one of her shoes.

Like a terrified, twisted version of Cinderella.

Trying to lock the door and finding the phone. Calling the police and screaming that Killian was going to kill her. The explosive like sound when he kicked the door in and came for her.

The sound of her clothes being torn apart.

All the little golden buttons from her blouse scattered across the floor.

The hard shove against her stomach when he pushed her onto the floor. The rug scratching at her back.

Him on top of her. Yanking her underwear down. Forcing her legs apart. Roughly pressing into her.

The pain.

The pain.

The pain.

The denial.

The reluctance to accept that he was doing this to her.

Regina remembered that she had turned her head. She had looked at one of the golden buttons and seen her reflection in it. The look of horror on her face.

Killian had forced her to look at him. He had grasped her chin harshly and turned her face to the center. He had smirked at her.

And he had said…... 'You like this'.

That was when Regina had raised her knee and slammed it against his groin as hard as she could.

It worked. He had stopped.

But suppose she hadn't fought back?

Would he have let it stay with that if she hadn't?

Would he have 'settled' (it sounded horrible, there was nothing 'settled' about being raped) with that if she hadn't fought back?

Would he not have started to strangle her?

Would he be satisfied with the amount of the control he had over her?

Regina shook her head and squeezed the wheel until her knuckles cracked. Thinking about what could have happened that night would get her nowhere. And the most likely scenario was that it wouldn't have changed anything whether she fought or not. He would still have tried to kill her.

But everything that happened that night could have been avoided.

If only she had left sooner.

If she hadn't been stupid enough to stay until he got back.

Why had she?

Had it been an attempt at regaining some control, perhaps? Had she wanted to see the look on his face when she told him that she was going to leave him?

What had she been thinking? Had she honestly believed that she was capable of getting any type of control over a man that was beating her?

The weight of her bad decision sat in the pit of Regina's stomach and gnawed, gnawed, gnawed painfully.

Why hadn't she just packed her bags and gotten the hell out of there?

It wasn't like she had owed him anything.

Definitely not!

She felt only a fraction calmer when she pulled up in front of the building where Kristine had her clinic.

Regina leapt out of the car and hastily went towards the building. She pressed the intercom button and looked at the lens of the little camera.

"Hi, Regina," came Kristine's soothing voice over the intercom. "Come right up." There was a buzzing sound and the door clicked open.

Regina eagerly went through it and slipped inside the elevator. Pressed the third button and closed her eyes as the elevator whirred softly. She didn't like it. Didn't like being stuck in this confined space. It reminded her of being stuck underneath Killian Jones.

But rather this than taking the stairs up to the third floor. She couldn't handle stairs today. It made her remember. Everything made her remember today.

Her heart was thrumming full speed in her chest and making her dizzy. She felt positively sick. Her palms were dampening and her vision blurring. This was starting to feel like a panic attack. Would she even be capable of holding it together until she saw Kristine? She hoped so. She didn't feel like having a panic attack in the elevator. Especially because she had already tried that.

On her first visit here, she had broken down in the elevator and silently bawled over the prospect of telling a therapist what had happened. Zelena had been with her and had tried her best to comfort her, but Regina had been inconsolable. The memories had pierced her heart and mind like knives, and Kristine literally had to climb inside the elevator and sit next to her on the floor while guiding her through the panic attack. It had taken her thirty minutes to coax Regina out of the elevator.

Regina sighed and took a deep breath. That had not been a good day. Not at all. Today wasn't much better, to be honest. But at least she was standing rather than sitting. She supposed that was something.

She ran her fingers through her hair and straightened the collar on her blouse a little as the elevator stopped and the doors opened with a slurping sound. Regina went into the hallway, and as many times before, she admired the light blue color on the wall. She didn't know who had come up with the color, but it was good thinking. She imagined that it soothed many, many of the patients who came here.

She reached her destination, Kristine's moss green door, and knocked twice.

The door was immediately opened, and Kristine's smiling face greeted her. "Good morning, Regina," she said in that singing manner she always spoke in. "Come on in. I made us some tea."

Regina cracked a smile. Kristine always made tea before a session. She claimed that a hot beverage always made a solid 'foundation', as she called it. And Regina was prone to agreeing with her.

"So," Kristine said kindly once they were seated on her orange couch (the walls were painted grass-green, she was a bit of an eccentric lady, really) "I understand that you're struggling today, Regina?"

Regina nodded. She did struggle a lot today.

"Alright. Remember, that is it okay to have days where you struggle," Kristine gently reminded her. "Accepting that the feeling is there and not trying to hold it back is very important. But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't try getting to the bottom of it."

Regina nodded again.

"Can you tell me if there's a particular reason why you are struggling today, Regina? Did something trigger it, or did you wake up this morning with the feeling?"

Regina lifted her hands. Kristine was 'fluent' in Sign Language. That was one of the reasons why Regina had chosen her as her therapist. 'I wrote a letter to Emma late last night,' she signed. 'I decided that I wanted to be honest with her, so I told her everything.'

"That was incredibly brave of you," Kristine said kindly. "I can imagine that was not an easy thing to do."

Regina shrugged lightly. She didn't feel like she was very brave. A brave person would have come clean to Emma a hell of a lot sooner!

"And now you're having flashbacks." It was not a question.

Regina nodded a third time. Definitely having flashbacks. 'Specific flashbacks,' she signed.

"Okay. Would you like to tell me about the flashbacks?" now THAT was a question. One that clearly indicated that Regina didn't have to if she did not want to.

But she did want to. She needed to. And she needed to put it into words too. Sign Language was fine, but sometimes she just needed to write her thoughts down. She told this to Kristine, and the therapist immediately provided her with a pen and a sheet of paper. Regina thanked her and then began writing everything down:

'It's the rape. I keep seeing it happening over and over again in glimpses. Every time I walk up a staircase or hear a door slam or see a man with dark hair. Everything triggers the memories. And I'm afraid I'll be stuck like this forever. Scared of everything.' When she was done, she pushed the note towards Kristine who read it and then flashed Regina a soft little smile. Not one of pity.

"The first time I met you, we had our first session in an elevator," Kristine said softly. "Honestly, I'm not sure how much of it you remember…."

Regina made a sound that could almost have been a laugh. She didn't remember exactly what Kristine had said to coax her out of the elevator. But she did remember being very, very afraid.

"You disappeared into your own head and wasn't capable of sharing your thoughts or feelings," Kristine continued. "And today you're sitting here and openly communicating with me about your feelings. Not to mention that you look fantastic…"

Regina bowed her head at the compliment.

"I know that the road isn't going to be an easy one for you," Kristine said kindly. "With the level of trauma you have experienced, how can it be? But you have improved massively since the first time I met you, Regina. You have taken strides. You sitting here and communicating so openly about the reason why you're struggling, is a victory. And what you're telling me today, that you've written a letter to Emma and told her everything tells me that she's someone you want to form a connection with. And I don't think I need to tell you what a huge milestone it is that you want to make a connection with someone. A romantic connection. That is a huge leap, Regina."

'It wasn't easy for me,' Regina signed, and her fingers wriggled in the air. 'I didn't feel good when I wrote that letter, and once I was done, I mostly just wanted to throw it out.' She felt ashamed for admitting to being such a coward.

"Okay. Would you like to elaborate on why you were feeling that way?" Kristine asked patiently.

'I'm afraid,' Regina signed. 'I'm afraid of what Emma will think when she finds out how broken I am.'

"I see." Kristine adjusted a bit on the couch. "We've talked about that before. Do you remember what I told you?"

Regina nodded and her fingers wiggled in the air again. 'That broken pieces can be mended back together in time.'

"That's right," Kristine confirmed. "It is not like a clock that's stopped ticking and needs new battery, or a wound that needs to be bandaged. Your feelings are far more complex than that. And while 'broken' is perceived as a very negative thing, it isn't necessarily that. 'Broken' isn't about fixing you like a clock that needs new batteries. It's not about getting surgeries to restore your voice and heal the wounds he inflicted on you. It's about the wounds you cannot see. It's about acknowledging how you feel and then work on gently mending you back together. It's about carefully searching for the missing pieces that were taken from you. And once we find those pieces again…. You will be able to feel whole again." She smiled softly at Regina. "The journey you're on right now isn't an easy one, Regina. You are allowed to feel whatever you feel. Remember that. It is okay to feel broken. It's okay to struggle when it's been months. Or years. It's okay not to magically feel better right away. That isn't how this works. It'll take time. But it will get better. Piece by piece."

Regina nodded and wiped her eyes. She was yet to experience a therapy session where she did NOT tear up. Her feelings were staring her right in the face, and they were not pretty. 'I am ashamed', she signed.

"What are you ashamed of?" Kristine asked softly.

'I am ashamed that I was raped.' Regina closed her eyes in an attempt to stop the tears from falling. This was the one the few things she couldn't tell Zelena. 'And I am ashamed that I'm ashamed', she continued in Sign Language. 'Because I know that I have nothing to be ashamed of. I know that it wasn't my fault.'

"Why are you ashamed?" Kristine asked her.

Regina hesitated. Bit her lip.

"There are no 'wrong' feelings here," her therapist gently reminded her. "All your feelings are valid. Even those that feels like they are not."

Regina bit her lip again and closed her eyes.

Rape. She had always imagined that it was something that happened when walking home late at night. She had pictured it as a man coming up behind you and pulling you into a bush.

She had never imagined that you could be raped by your partner. That the monster wasn't a strange man who forced you into a bush late night, but the one person who was supposed to love you unconditionally and shield you from harm rather than inflicting it upon you.

She had never imagined that rape could be your fiancé murmuring 'you want this, don't you?' while already unbuttoning your blouse and you nodding your yes because you were terrified of the consequences if you said no. Because acid disappointment and low growls of being 'a tease' could feel exactly as gut punching terrifyingly as being forced into a bush could.

Sometimes rape wasn't you being forced into a bush on a dark night.

Sometimes rape was far more complex than that.

But the outcome was precisely the same.

Devastation.

Terror.

Brokenness.

'I'm ashamed that it didn't feel like rape until he was tearing my clothes off that night', Regina wrote on the paper. 'I'm ashamed that I didn't understood earlier that he was forcing me and that it had nothing to do with sex. Or love.'

"Killian was a master manipulator. He knew that you loved him, and he used that to his advantage," Kristine said, voice a bit more firm now. "He knew that you were willing to do almost anything in your power to please him."

Regina nodded. That was true. When Killian was in a 'bad mood' there wasn't the thing she wouldn't have done to please him. And the most effective way to please him, was by doing his bidding in the bedroom. No matter how little she was in the mood. Wanting to please him and make his bad mood go away and be in the mood for sex was two very different things.

There had never really been the option to say no.

It had always been hanging in the air that the night would not be a pleasant one if she did. A couple of half-veiled threats about what his bad mood made him do was enough to make her chose the bedroom.

Have sex or get beaten.

No.

No, that was not right.

Be coerced into pleasuring him or get beaten.

What had happened in the bedroom had had absolutely nothing to do with sex and intimacy. It had only been about one thing. Manipulation and Killian getting his way again.

She had not been raped once.

It had happened many, many times.

She had just been gaslighted into believing that she wanted it.

It was like Kristine said.

Killian had been a masterful manipulator.

An expert in making her think that that was simply a part of the love language he spoke.

He didn't have a love language.

He never did.

'I feel so betrayed', Regina signed, and her fingers shook slightly.

"Of course you do," Kristine said gently. "Realizing the extent of his abuse and manipulation is a lengthy process, and you will most likely realize this many, many times in the future."

Regina nodded eagerly and signed again: 'exactly. I can go about my day and be relatively satisfied, and then I remember everything he did to me and it all comes crashing down again.'

"You're processing," her therapist said understandingly. "And that's a good thing, Regina. You are aware of what he did to you, and more importantly, you are aware of what he did to you is wrong. That is all a part of your progress too."

Regina knew that. She knew how important it was that she knew how badly Killian had treated her, but that didn't mean that realizing it over and over again wasn't tough as hell. She winced and had to wrap an arm around her abdomen when pain flared up. She was used to that. She was used to experience phantom pain where had kicked her when she was talking or thinking about the rape.

"Are you in pain right now, Regina?" Kristine asked gently. Of course she already knew the answer.

Regina nodded and winced again. She was. It really hurt.

"Would you like to take a break?"

She nodded again and tried smiling. A break was exactly what she needed right now.

"That is perfectly fine," Kristine said and returned the smile. Gave Regina's hand a little pat. "You have been delving into some really hard subjects today. Give yourself credit for that, Regina. And remember that we're not trying to cook up a solution. We're working our way through it and giving you time to feel whatever you need to feel."

Regina smiled a bit more genuinely now. Most people thought that therapy was about spilling your guts and then the therapist would magically come up with a solution to all your problems. But that was not at all how it worked. Therapy was…. Therapy was hard work. Feeling feelings that often blindsided you was exhausting. Completely and utterly exhausting.

Kristine poured tea into a little pink teacup Regina hadn't seen before. "Here, I think you could do with a top off. Sorry about the color. I just smashed the last blue one."

Gratitude rushed over Regina. This was another thing Kristine was good at. Diffusing the tension. Her talk about teacups was soothing the ache Regina was currently feeling in her stomach some.

"Bottoms up," Kristine quipped as she lifted her own pink teacup.

Regina clinked her teacup with Kristine's. She didn't know whether other therapists served tea in the middle of a session, but she was grateful that Kristine did.

The tea did soothe her. The hot beverage chased some of the uncomfortableness out of her system. She wasn't doing wonderfully, but she wasn't on the verge of breaking down either. Not like she had been when she first got here.

They drank their tea. Kristine asked her how she felt. Off the record, as she quipped, and Regina told her that she was doing okay. Some of the ugliness that had settled in her chest earlier this morning had disappeared. And that was relief. She knew that she would be tired when she got home. And she also knew that the reaction would come tomorrow. She would most likely be in pain. Maybe even physically sick. But that was sort of okay. Because she felt like she had really delved into something that was to delve into. She had popped a particularly nasty abscess and had singlehandedly scraped out all the nasty stuff.

She chose to believe that it was worth it. That it WOULD be worth it.

In the long run.

Once their 'tea break' was over with, the session continued.

'I'm scared of Emma reading the letter,' Regina signed. Because of course they had to talk about Emma Swan. She had talked of little else since she first met her. Dr. Kristine knew everything.

"And why is that?" Kristine asked patiently.

'I'm afraid that she'll look at me differently. With pity in her eyes. I don't think I could cope with that. I loved just being Regina when I was with her. I don't want that to change.' That truly was her biggest fear. That Emma would start looking at her differently. Treating her differently.

"That'll never change," Doctor Kristine said kindly. "You will always be Regina no matter what. Regina didn't disappear and was replaced with a stranger when you were attacked. You are still here. Remember that."

Regina nodded and had to reach for the tissues again.

"And you won't disappear when Emma reads the letter, either," Doctor Kristine continued. "If anything, you will only become even more real. By letting her in, you'll show her an incredible amount of trust, and I believe that'll only strengthen your bond."

Talking about Emma made Regina's stomachache come back in full force. She missed her so much she could have driven to Steveston right then and there. 'What if it's too late?' she signed. 'What if I missed my chance when I pushed her away?'

"You did not push her away, Regina. You ended things because you feared for her safety. That is a completely different thing," Kristine reminded her.

Regina wasn't so sure about that. She so regretted that she hadn't come clean earlier. She had left Emma drowning in a sea of confusion for so long. And she knew how it looked to Emma. Like she had dumped her and cut their communication short without thinking twice about it.

Shit. She had been an asshole.

"Let me ask you something," Kristine said kindly and interrupted Regina's self-sabotaging thoughts.

Regina nodded gratefully and gave the therapist her undivided attention.

"If the conflict regarding Liam Jones was to be resolved," Doctor Kristine began. "And you and Emma were free to see one another without him lurking in the background… Would you?"

Yes! God, yes! More than anything. Regina nodded so eagerly it almost made her dizzy. Then she frowned. 'You don't think it is too late?' she signed.

"No, I don't," Doctor Kristine said simply.

But…. 'Do you really think I'll ever be capable of having a proper relationship?'

Kristine suddenly smiled and patted her hand. "Yes, I do, Regina. Very much so."

When she drove home a half an hour later, it was with the windows rolled down and the wind messing up her hair.

It didn't bother her. The fresh air felt equally as cleansing as the therapy session had. Tomorrow would be a tough one, she knew that from experience, but today was worth tomorrow's stomachache and nausea. Today she felt oddly empowered. Like she had found another fraction of herself with Doctor Kristine's help. A teeny, tiny one. But certainly one that was worth mentioning.

Regina switched on the radio and was greeted by Rachel Platten singing about small boats in the ocean sending big waves into motion. It was cliché, but it fitted.

She might only have one match.

But she could make an explosion.

Nobody could hear her voice, but her power was still turned on.

And she still had a lot of fight left within her.

When she reached the next rest area, Regina pulled over, and with Fight Song still blasting out of the speakers and out of the open window, she found her cellphone in the pocket of her blazer and opened a new text message. Not to Zelena. Not to Henry.

'The person responsible for stalking Emma Swan, vandalizing her car and writing a threatening message is Liam Jones', she wrote. 'I know this because I was engaged to his brother, Killian Jones who is serving life in prison without the possibility of parole. He abused me and is the reason that I have lost my voice. I ask you not to share this information with anyone, as I am extremely traumatized by it and prefer sharing it with as few people as possible. Liam wants revenge on me for landing his brother in prison, but cannot because I have a restraining order against him. He has served time in prison before, and one more conviction will be enough to put him away for a very, very long time.' Tapped in Liam's last known address. It was five years old and probably not a lot to go on, but it was worth a shot. 'Emma does not, and I am aware that she cannot get one because Liam hasn't physically harmed her, but I expect you to protect her in some other way. Start looking for him.' Regina took a deep breath and concluded her text message with a simple: 'Regina Mills'. Then she sent the text to Graham Humbert. The sheriff of Steveston.

She put her phone away and squeezed the wheel tightly. The police had a name now. Later tonight, Emma Swan would get a letter. And hopefully, Graham would track down Liam, and when he did…

Regina would hope to hell that she hadn't missed her chance with Emma.

There was nothing she'd want more than a second chance with Emma Swan.

The opportunity to form a real connection.

She turned head and looked at her phone. Glanced at the little 'message delivered' icon on her phone.

She felt oddly strong. And more importantly, she felt as though she finally was using her strength for something that was more than just getting out of bed and getting dressed in the morning.

This was her version of screaming loud.

To Be Continued…

(A/N: I am not a therapist, nor have I ever dealt with a trauma like the one Regina is dealing with in this story. I only have my imagination to go on, and I hope that is enough. In other words, please do not come at me if Regina's therapy session does not feel authentic to you.)