A/N: Happy Sunday peeps. I hope you all woke up with a smile on your face. And if you didn't, I hope this chapter puts one there for you!

Something was different. That was the first thought which came into Emma's mind when she woke up on Sunday morning. Something smelled different. Bacon. She turned off her alarm and swung out of bed, unable to stop her mouth salivating slightly at the wafting odour. So, Ruby had been serious the night before when she had promised to cook Emma an apology breakfast. Emma had questioned how a bagel with bacon and a fried egg (hard yolk, not runny) was a gesture of regret and Ruby had insisted it was. The blonde had dismissed the offer. After all, how would a bagel fit into her usual morning routine? What would happen to her toast and jam?

The aroma strengthened as she opened the door to her bedroom and put the pullup bar in place. Her back twinged as she reached up. The bruised muscles protested even more as she started to work out. But she was determined, splitting the two sets of ten into four sets of five. Dropping back to the floor once her strengthening workout was complete, Emma headed for the bathroom.

"Breakfast when you're ready, Em," Ruby called out as she spotted her flatmate walking down the corridor past the open door to the kitchen.

Emma didn't reply. She was angry. She wasn't sure what she was angry about. The disruption of her perfected morning routine? Ruby's insistence that a breakfast bagel would make up for her mistake? The fact that Ruby made the mistake in the first place? The fact that Emma's agreement to allow Ruby back to work had led to that mistake happening? What Regina had endured as a result of her personal failing as a boss and Ruby's failing as an employee?

She squirted far too much shampoo into her hand, emotions taken out on the bottle. After futilely trying to get the liquid back in through the narrow hole, she gave up and slathered it into her hair. The suds took twice as long to wash out but eventually she was onto the conditioner, more carefully dispensed, and a quick shave. Then she was out, dried and heading to the kitchen, a towel wrapped around her hair and a second around her body.

"I've put the coffee on already," Ruby said as soon as Emma appeared in the doorway, intent on setting up her morning brew as usual. "I figured I'd save you some time."

"Ok, thanks," Emma replied, diverting her steps towards her bedroom where she got ready for the day.

By the time she returned to the kitchen, the consistent, lingering smell of bacon had worn her down. She might not understand why the breakfast bagel was a representation of Ruby's apology but she was going to eat it. Emma liked bacon, when cooked to her exact requirements. And Ruby knew exactly how Emma liked to eat it. Crispy but not to crispy. Minimal fat. Oil drained off.

"Thank you," Emma said as Ruby presented her with the morning meal, gesturing for her to sit down at the breakfast bar they rarely used. Dinner in front of the television was far more their style.

"You're welcome. How did you sleep?"

"Not bad."

"How's your back?"

"Sore," Emma admitted.

"I saw the bruise," Ruby said. At Emma's frown, she clarified. "When you left the kitchen before, in your towel. It looks bad. Do you want me to put some arnica on it?"

"No thanks," Emma replied. In truth, she wanted to forget the blue and purple mottling which covered much of her upper back. When she had caught a glimpse of the damaged capillaries in the mirror in her bedroom, her stomach rolled at the memory. His weight, relentlessly pressing her down. The sticky warmth of his blood. His ragged breath against her neck.

Picking up the bagel, Emma took a bite. It was good. Ruby had first introduced Emma to this simple breakfast sandwich when they were at college together. Back then, it was their go-to hangover cure but now, on occasion, Ruby would make them on the rare times they both had the same day off work.

"Thank you for this," Emma said, unable to forget her manners even if she was unsure how a bagel was going to make up for everything which had happened.

"You're welcome," Ruby replied as she poured Emma's coffee into her travel mug and handed it over, knowing the blonde wouldn't finish the steaming beverage and therefore would carry the remainder of the drink to work.

They fell silent. Emma didn't have much to say; she had said all she wanted to Ruby the previous evening. The two of them had talked late into the night. She couldn't say the issue was resolved. She still blamed Ruby for much of what had happened. But she had come to the conclusion that she was right to give Ruby a second chance. And she was confident Ruby was going to work as hard as possible to regain her trust. As an employee. That was the problem. Their relationship had become blurred ever since Emma set up Swan's Shelter and took Ruby on, as her first hire. They were friends, flatmates and now employer-employee. Each required a different role and sometimes it was hard to differentiate what they were to each other.

Yesterday afternoon, Emma had been Ruby's boss, intent on firing her. This morning, they were flatmates, eating breakfast together. Last night, they had been some strange hybrid of the two. Ruby had begged Emma's forgiveness, verbalised over and over her deep-seated regret, and made promises that it would never happen again. Emma had listened, sceptical, as she tried to unwind from a long day, constantly reminded by the other woman on the couch of what had happened.

And yet, at the same time, Ruby was also still her friend. She was someone who understood Emma, loved her despite her quirks, and had stuck by her for years. She was mourning her grandmother. In any other scenario, Emma would have been sat on the couch the previous night, talking with Ruby about her memories of her Granny, trying to console the woman who had lost her last family member. But Ruby wasn't only a friend. She was also an employee who had made an unforgiveable mistake. In Emma's mind, her two roles struggled for precedence.

"I've got to go," Emma said, glancing at the clock. "Thanks for the bagel."

"Sure, I'll see you later. Can you please say sorry to Regina for me? I know I'll say it myself too but I don't know when I'll next see her." Because you're not letting me come back to work yet; the words hung unspoken in the air.

"Yeah, I'll tell her. See you later. I hope everything goes well today."

The night before, Ruby had told Emma she was meeting with the funeral director. On a Sunday; dedicated professional. Emma couldn't begin to imagine how it might feel to make decisions with regards to coffins and flowers and final outfits for someone she loved. Briefly, she wondered whether she should ask her foster parents if they could write down what they wanted when they died. Everyone must have an idea of what their funeral would be like, so surely it was acceptable to put together a list of instructions.

This thought was still on her mind when she entered the shelter, sipping her coffee, ten minutes later.

"What do you want at your funeral?" she asked Ella after they had exchanged morning pleasantries.

The woman's eyebrows rose. "Am I dying?"

"No? Well, technically. We all get closer to death every day." Ella went a little paler. "But hypothetically, what do you want at your funeral?"

"Um, I've not really thought about it. Why?"

"Just thinking. You should write it down. Give it to Alex, so she knows what you want when you do die."

Ella's skin went even paler. Emma was oblivious. "Alex is five. I'm only twenty-nine."

"Yes, but none of us ever know when our time is coming," Emma pressed on as she rounded the desk, unaware of how much she was freaking the young mother out. "It would be a good idea for you to tell Alex what you want before you die, so she doesn't have to make those decisions for you while she's grieving. Anything to report from last night?"

A little stunned at the abrupt end to the jarring conversation, Ella hesitated for a moment before catching Emma up on the few incidents in an otherwise uneventful night. Fifteen minutes later she was waving goodbye to her boss before heading off down the street, her mind now focused on her own mortality and what sort of flowers she'd want decorating her coffin when her time came in, what she hoped, many decades to come.

Henry's desire to go to the park had started the moment he woke up. Yes, he had decided, staring up at the ceiling. Sunday was park day. That was the plan. Regina had been roused by a bouncing child seconds later, kneeling on the edge of her bed and poking her with that exact request. "Maybe," she had yawned, resting her hand on his back to support him in case he toppled backwards with enthusiasm.

As the duo got dressed, washed their faces and headed to have breakfast, the requests continued. "Can Roland come?" Henry asked as his bowl appeared before him. "Can I get an ice cream?" he asked when he finished his orange juice. "Can we play soccer?"

Realising she wasn't going to get out of this trip, regardless of how much she was personally disinclined to go to the park, Regina nodded her agreement, head buried in a cup of coffee. Henry whooped at that and slid from the stool, scampering off into the corridor to tell Roland.

"Oh, hi Emma!" he grinned as he collided with her legs in the doorway, narrowly missing receiving a coffee shower as the blonde expertly steadied the mug in her hand. "I'm going to the park!"

"Great, have a good day," Emma said as the boy raced off towards the room Roland and Marian shared, several doors down from his own.

Regina smiled at her girlfriend as she approached. She couldn't help it; seeing Emma always made her smile.

"Good morning," Regina said as Emma reached her.

"Morning," Emma replied, placing a gentle kiss on Regina's upturned lips. It felt so natural, so right to be able to display such affections. And they could do so publicly, now those in the shelter knew about them. It was a relief, if she was honest. She was tired of hiding. "How did you sleep?"

"Pretty well, actually. Better than usual and better than I expected. I think a part of my brain was more relaxed, knowing for the first time since I left Maine that Leo wasn't going to track us down, turn up outside and force us to come home." The fact that the exact events of the previous day had been something Regina had predicted went unsaid.

"Is that a thought you'd often had since arriving?" Emma asked, sliding onto the stool Henry had just vacated. She was also sliding into her role of counsellor, in addition to that of concerned girlfriend. "Were you often unable to sleep because of it?"

"It was subconscious," Regina explained. "It was always in the back of my mind, yes. I knew he'd find us eventually. I was just waiting. But most of the time I felt safe in the shelter. To be honest, I always assumed he'd find me once I got a job; tracking my social security number or something. I never imagined he'd find me here. But when I was drifting off, more than once over the past month, I'd sometimes find myself wondering what I'd do if he did show up. What would I say? What would he do? I guess we found out."

"We did. And now he's going to prison. So you're never going to have to worry about him again."

"I'm going to have to testify. I'm going to have to stand up in open court and tell people what he did to me, what our marriage was like." These thoughts would have kept Regina awake the night before, had she not been so emotionally exhausted by everything else which had happened. That morning, however, they had begun to creep into her mind.

"Unless he takes a plea," Emma pointed out. "And anyway, I was the one he held at gunpoint. That's the charge. He's not being arrested for anything which happened between you in Maine, just what he did to me yesterday. You may not even be needed."

"How are you?" Regina asked suddenly, remembering that it was Emma who had been held hostage by Leo with a gun pointed at her. "How's your back? Are you still in pain?"

Emma offered a soft smile of reassurance. "I'm ok. I'll feel fine in a few days."

"Did you sleep ok?"

"Yes, but I've always been a good sleeper. Plus I think I was too exhausted for my brain to keep me awake replaying the events. Ruby and I stayed up until well past midnight talking. She says she's sorry, by the way."

"Oh, right." Regina didn't know how to respond to that. What was the correct way to accept a secondhand apology from someone who had enabled your soon-to-be-ex-husband to find you?

"She'll tell you that herself when she comes back to work," Emma pressed on. "But she won't be back for a few weeks. I've told her she needs to take some time. Grieve. Hey, do you know what you want at your funeral?"

Just as Ella did, Regina balked at the abrupt, out-of-nowhere question. "What? No. Why?"

"You should tell Henry. Or me. Or someone. Write it down. Maybe put it in your will. It's much easier than what Ruby's got to do today. Choosing flowers, coffins, hymns. I think we should all leave a record for what we want at our funeral before we die, so our families don't have to do it for us while they're grieving."

"Oh, um, ok," Regina said slowly. She understood Emma's logic and she agreed with her sentiment. But it was far too early in the morning for her to be holding the image of Emma or her son planning her funeral.

Emma, to her credit, frowned slightly. "I've upset you," she said, correctly reading the creases on Regina's forehead. "Was that not an ok thing to say?"

"It was … unusual," Regina replied eventually. "I get your point and I think what you're saying is valid. But to be honest, I try not to think about my own death, especially not before I've finished my first coffee of the day on a Sunday morning."

"Yes," Emma mused. "Our society has tried to sanitise death as much as possible. It's a taboo subject, for the most part. Something that's seen as scary and not understood. People rarely talk about death or what happens afterwards."

"Especially when you're a parent," Regina continued quietly. "It's not that I'm afraid of dying myself. Well, I guess I am. But I'm more scared about what happens to Henry after I die. When you become a parent, your two constant worries are; what if something happens to them? And what if something happens to me?"

Emma nodded slowly. That made sense. She understood, from the other side of the table, what the loss of a parent does to a child. She had lost, mere hours old, her birth parents. She never knew why they left her. She'd wondered, of course, but her theories never made her feel better, never justified their decision, never comforted the dull ache in her heart. Then, as a toddler, she had lost her adoptive parents. She remembered that. She remembered the feeling of loss, detachment, no longer belonging. They gave her back; they no longer needed her. Emma wasn't good enough. Being fostered by Mary Margaret and David had come a few years later, after years in the system and years of ever-growing self-loathing. It had taken her foster parents a long time, endless patience and constant reassurance to make Emma believe she wasn't going to be sent away again. That she belonged. That she had a family. The dull ache, however, remained. In the background, barely noticeable, but there. Loss.

"I'm sorry," Emma said gently. "I didn't mean to make you think about something like that. I wasn't thinking myself, at least, not as a mother. But nothing is going to happen to you, Regina. Henry is going to be all grown up and independent before anything happens to you."

"You don't know that," Regina whispered, eyes filled with tears at the thoughts which now tumbled through her mind.

"I don't," Emma agreed. "But I believe it to be true. You're healthy and fit. You eat well and I can only assume you must work out." Eyes trailed down Regina's toned body. "You're also sensible and you're not going to do anything to put yourself in danger. You're not an adrenaline junkie who skydives or goes cave diving at night. Your abusive ex is in prison. You're in a healthy relationship with someone who loves you. The chance of you dying young is minimal, right?"

"Is this supposed to make me feel better?"

"Yes, is it working?"

Regina couldn't help but chuckle and the genuine, earnest look on Emma's face. "Sort of. You're sweet, Emma, thank you. But telling me that my micromort count is low is not going to reassure any parent."

"You know about micromorts?" Emma asked, perking up.

"I'm not a geek," Regina said quickly. "I heard about it on this British quiz show."

"QI?"

"You watch it too?"

"Religiously," Emma nodded. "Big Sandi fan."

"Ditto," Regina grinned. "Ok, now I feel better. Can we have a QI date some time?"

"Definitely. How would you feel about coming to mine again? We can watch old episodes on YouTube. I'd like to take you out on a proper date as well though. Henry could come too."

"You want to bring a six-year-old on our date?"

"You and Henry are a package deal, right?" Emma pointed out.

"Yes," Regina nodded.

"Then yes, I want to bring Henry too. I want to get to know him. And, for the record, if anything did happen to you, despite your low micromort score, I promise you Henry would be cared for, and loved."

Tears glittered again. "Thank you," Regina whispered.

In those dark moments when she had allowed herself to ponder her own demise, Regina tried not to think about how alone she was. Ever since her parents had died, Regina had worried about who would take care of Henry. For years, she had made the disturbing but realistic assumption that her untimely death would be at the hands of Leo. With her dead and him hopefully in prison for her murder, what would become of their traumatised son? Regina had no siblings, no real friends. Who would care for Henry?

She knew it was early days. She knew there was no obligation for Emma to offer to care for Henry. Their relationship was still a fledgling. Henry and Emma hadn't even spent that much time together. Yet the offer meant a lot to Regina. If her micromort number really was up, perhaps, in those final moments, she could feel some sense of comfort knowing Henry would be safe and loved, with Emma.

"So, Henry wants to go to the park?"

"Yeah," Regina nodded. "I figured he deserves some time out of this place. Plus, it's not like he's going to run into his father and be kidnapped."

The line was delivered as a light-hearted joke but the fact of the matter was if Regina had taken Henry to the bodega the morning before, that exact scenario could have unfolded.

"Well, have a good day," Emma said, forcing a smile as she pushed past the comment. "I wish I could come with you two."

"Next time," Regina suggested. "Have you got a lot of work on today?"

"Paperwork. Nothing too complicated but I'm behind and I need to catch up."

"Dinner later?"

"Yes please," Emma smiled.

"Great," Regina grinned, noting that Henry had reappeared with Roland, the two of them making a beeline for her. Roland had a soccer ball tucked under his arm. "Well, I guess I'm heading off. See you later."

"Bye," Emma said, smiling into the kiss which Regina laid on her lips before she turned to answer Henry's question as to whether they could have two ice creams. One before they played soccer and one after. Emma watched them walk away, wishing she could join the small family on their day out and wondering how many park trips with Regina and Henry lay in her future. Many, she hoped.

A/N: for those of you who've never heard of QI, watch it! It's where 90% of my knowledge comes from (and I have a Masters). Most of the episodes are on YouTube. Stephen Fry hosted the first 13 seasons and Sandi Toksvig took over from season N. For people in the UK, the new season (Q) is airing now!