The windows in the room let the night air slide through them, stirring Regina's particular smell with that of rusty blood. Emma takes it all in.

"Hi." Regina smiles when she sees them. Her face so pale, her voice a whisper.

"May l…?" Emma asks, approaching her delicately. Regina shakes her head and smiles sweetly, but holds the dagger as firmly as she can to her side. "Please…"

"Miss Swan, as much as I enjoy arguing with you, I'm not willing to do so on my deathbed," she tries to joke.

"Regina…"

"I won't put you through that. Not again. If I fall, it's all right, but...'"

"It's all right?" she grunts, clenching her fists on the board.

"Emma," she sighs, closing her eyes, her voices coming from somewhere beyond exhaustion. "You know what I mean. When I'm gone, you will still be there, guiding them all through the darkness." Emma can't imagine anything more inaccurate than that assertion, but Regina is speaking as if each word could take away her last breath and she won't risk to agitate her further. "But if you save me, neither my life nor that of everyone present will have any chance against the Dark One dominating you. If I die, you all live. If I live, how many will have to die in return?"

The crude simplicity of it all is horrifying. Still, the assumption behind it… Her weakness. Does everyone truly believe her so pusillanimous? She clenches her teeth, chewing that sudden scorn that tastes so much like self-loath. "You can't know that," she manages to say.

"I know that as well as you do. But I'm willing to accept it."

Emma closes her eyes to take the blow. She does know, though. She has the exact idea of the kind of magic she would need to yield to take Regina back from the void that's slowly claiming her. And she bears no doubt as to how much of the Dark One she would need to channel through herself in the process. Once embraced in that feral, primitive knot, the Dark One won't let her go.

Rumpelstikin, as if summoned by her thoughts, appears behind the corners of her eyes, a wide smile scarring his despicable face.

"There has to be another way." Desperation urges her to speak. "If you guide me, if you control me… You can help me access the magic we need and still anchor me, because maybe I'm not strong enough, but…"

Her voice disappears as Regina's red-stained fingers clench around her fist. She doesn't say anything, but the gesture is enough to steal Emma's voice, whose senses focus on the contact, on the trembling softness of Regina's thumb wandering over the back of the hand. A slight greenish stir crosses her vision, as if pointing her towards the other side of the table, and Emma can see how Regina's other hand is losing the grip on the dagger.

"Really, Miss Swan?" she murmurs, and surprisingly there's a hint of amusement in her pupils. "I command you not to take the dagger from me."

Emma feels again the disgusting constraint of the dagger, and squirms angrily against that feeling. "No." A cold hiss that freezes the room, startles Snow and Henry, still steps away, but doesn't seem to bother Regina, who simply lies looking at her with a languid pose akin to martyrdom.

"No," she repeats, banning the Imp from her insides this time. "Regina." There's no trace of begging in the way she says her name anymore, just an unfathomable sadness born from surrender. "How much time, now?"

"Enough for my goodbyes," she answers, eyeing Emma and Henry, who lets go of Snow's hand and gets closer to his mother. "May we do just that, please?"

Emma wants to grant her everything she needs, it's always been like that, but wouldn't know where to start. Henry, perched over his mother just beside, caresses the pompous fabric of the dress over her ankle, and doesn't seem to be willing to start a farewell speech, either.

"Well. I'll go first, then," Regina says, dedicating them both a weak smile. "My prince." She looks at the kid, and takes a moment to swallow before going on. "You have been the most precious gift in my life, and I'm so sorry I won't be there to see the wonderful, brave man you are already becoming."

Henry squeezes the dress while denying with his head. "Mom," he says, so lovingly it's painful to hear.

"And I'm sorry" Regina eyes Emma now "to leave you alone in the face of the most important mission of our lives."

Emma rests speechless. She wouldn't feel particularly confident on her success either even things hadn't turned for the worse so dramatically. Regina's dying to save her from falling in the ever tempting embrace of her personal Rumplestinkin, and she can't even imagine what tomorrow would be like, how she could gather strength to resist the urge when… "That Imp won't hold half a strike against me." She says, though.

"I wasn't taking about that mission." Regina's voice claims her again. "I know we've gotten a bit dramatic, but I'm sure that breaking that damn curse will be a walk for the Savior," she says slowly, a warm smile in her mouth, eyes bright as if sudden burst of energy had fueled her.

A hell of a Savior. Emma thinks, bitter and so sad she still can't find words.

"I meant raising our son," Regina continues. "Our little conspirator." She grins to Henry and seems to glow, full of pride and love. It's easy to get sucked into that feeling, seeing the kid firmly perched over his mother, that same glow coming from his eyes.

"You already raised him," Emma affirms.

"He will still need you, Emma." Regina has stopped smiling now and her expression is grave. "He'll need you. No one else." She raises slightly her head to punctuate her words, that energy bolt apparently growing. Emma can't help but thinking about that rare phenomenon, terminal lucidity, and a sharp chill runs through her. "You." Regina drops the final word of her sentencing, and Emma feels it as such, as a decisive command more binding than any dagger-driven order.

"He'll need you! Not a failure of a Savior who can't even save his mother." Self-deprecation in Regina's deathbed. Way to go, Swan. Truly inspiring.

"Emma." Regina presses her hand, as if asking her to really focus. "You don't have to save me this time. Don't you see? You haven't stopped saving me since the day we met."

"What are you saying, now?" A quiet sob in the form of brief laughter whistles through her teeth.

"Hush. I want to say something else." Regina looks almost vivacious right now, a savage contrast with the dantesque image of her bleeding body pulsing on the table. "I want to apologize to you both for all the times I was a bad mother…" Henry's groan vibrates in pain. "Or a good friend."

"Stop, Regina. Please, stop," Emma protests annoyed, clinging to the table. "We owe you. I… I owe you so much… I wouldn't be who I am if you hadn't…"

"Yes, my pain-in-the-ass approach surely did wonders to get you in your best form." Regina is swearing now, and Emma is at a point where she finds it so endearing she's at risk of shocking into silence again.

"You are perfectly aware that's part of your charm," she says, instead.

"Of course," Regina concedes, her tone regal. "But I'm also aware of all the horrible…"

"No." Emma isn't willing to let her do that. She has finally found some courage to open the bottomless chest of things she has never thought herself capable of letting out. "Our little conspirator over there wouldn't have become the wonderful person he is today if he hadn't had you as his mother. I didn't dare to dream with such a chance for him, and he got it. He's your son through and through, Regina, and no one could ever come close to the void you're..." Before letting her voice crack, she goes on, "We may have had a rocky start, that much is clear, but now… you are our touchstone"

"And here we were pretending you didn't know how to say goodbye."

To be continued...