Sadly, the rest of the day passed uneventfully.

Emma tossed her keys into the little dish she used as a holder and pressed her fingers to her forehead. They'd ended up going to the movies and out to eat, with a little shopping in between. Emma hadn't been able to focus on the movie - the loud, dramatic music had faded to nothing more than a low drone in her ear as she played out the coffee shop encounter in her mind over and over.

Regina had recognized Henry.

Henry had recognized Regina, even if he hadn't been able to place her.

So who was she?

And god, those eyes again. Her pain had been written into every line around her eyes, the way the corners of her mouth dropped at the sight of him. Emma knew how to recognize a fellow guarded soul. But for a moment there, when her gaze landed on Henry, the walls had come down, revealing such raw emotion that Emma's heart clenched just thinking about it. She recognized it.

It was the pain of someone who felt alone. Abandoned.

There was, at least, one thing that she was now certain of - Regina was real. Emma had spoken with her. Laura had seen her. Henry had seen her. She was real.

Which meant the memories she inspired must be real too.

Emma's heart fluttered in her chest at the thought, and she dipped her hands under the faucet, letting them fill with hot water before she splashed it over her face and scrubbed off the day's makeup. When she met her own gaze in the mirror she looked tired. Eyeliner was smudged beneath her lashes. She wiped it off with a sigh.

"I am not crazy," She muttered to her reflection. "I am not crazy. I'm just seeing a beautiful woman who can't possibly exist, who I may have had sex with, and who knows my son, despite the fact that I've never met her before in my life." She swallowed, watching as her adam's apple bobbed in her throat at the harsh motion, and forced the next words out. She didn't know why, but it was important that they be spoken aloud. "And I love her," she added, barely a whisper. "I'm pretty sure that I love her, whoever she is."

And those words were true, though she had no idea how or why.

The flush that had crept up Regina's neck after she'd insisted they were friends pushed into Emma's mind for the millionth time that day, and she felt her heart stutter.

"Friends, my ass. I love her, and I've never met her. And she's real. And I'm not crazy." She rubbed a hand over her eyes. A small laugh escaped her throat before she could stop it as the reality of the situation hit her once again. Here she was, talking to her own reflection as though it could listen, about a...what? A ghost? Except now two other people had seen her, so she had to be real, right? "I'm definitely crazy," She concluded, and she reached for the toothpaste, squeezing a glob onto her toothbrush as she shook her head.

And I love her. I'm pretty sure that I love her, whoever she is.

And that was why Regina avoided bathroom mirrors, especially when she had Snow looking over her shoulder. Snow had insisted that she follow Emma through the apartment, no matter where she went. Regina could understand - she missed Emma too. But this was why. People did things in bathroom mirrors. They said things that they didn't want other people to hear; Things that were private. Something that Emma had only admitted once before, in the dark, a confession whispered with eyes closed and their limbs tangled.

Regina swallowed, her throat tightening, as Emma continued.

"Friends, my ass. I love her, and I've never met her, and she's real, and I'm not crazy." Friends, indeed. The stubbornness in the other woman's voice as she insisted on her sanity made Regina chuckle, though it caught in her throat when she remembered her company. Her body went rigid.

"I'm definitely crazy," Emma concluded with a small, strangled laugh, and she brushed her teeth and turned and then the light was out, leaving the mirror black and Regina alone with Snow. Traitor, Regina mused, briefly contemplating switching to the vanity in Emma's room. Part of her ached to have Emma's picture back. The other part was grasping for a distraction from what had just happened, from what Emma had just unknowingly admitted to her mother, of all people.

Regina wasn't even sure if Snow knew either of them were gay, much less how she would react to the news.

But then Snow's hand was covering her own, and Regina's heart launched into her throat. She thanked her lucky stars that Snow had been sitting behind her, with both of them watching the mirror propped up on Regina's lap.

Snow didn't say anything for several moments, and Regina didn't dare break the silence. She didn't turn to meet the other woman's eyes, even when Snow laced her fingers between Regina's and squeezed.

She and Emma hadn't exactly been hiding their relationship, but they hadn't been advertising it, either.

Relationship, Regina scoffed at herself internally. As if it had happened more than a few times. As if it had been anything more than herself and Emma slipping quietly into her bedroom at night after a few ciders, and the blonde leaving before the town had awoken.

A whispered I love you echoed in her mind. Once from Emma, and once from herself. Both times when they thought the other wouldn't remember. Too vulnerable a confession for the light of day. Their feelings had been spoken in feather light fingers on the other woman's skin, in stolen glances and stolen kisses. Nothing more.

"It's okay, Regina. I knew."

Regina let her eyes fall closed, a tiny laugh escaping her throat as she shook her head. Of course. Of course Snow had known, and of course she'd been too kind to say anything. Too kind to confront her.

"Well, I suppose I didn't really know, not until now. But I'd suspected. I just...didn't realize it was...requited." Snow's voice went up in pitch with the next words. "Or that...anything had...happened, I guess." She laughed, and Regina turned just in time to watch her eyebrows raise and her head tilt to the side. "I have to admit, I didn't see that one coming." She shook her head, but there was a smile on her face and as she met Regina's gaze her eyes were soft. "My step mother and my daughter. Who would have thought?"

"You're not…I don't know, angry? Livid? Disgusted?" Regina asked, taken aback. She searched Snow's gaze for any sign of disapproval and found none. "You're just…" Regina waved her free hand. "Okay with this?"

The other woman shrugged, moving her other hand over the one that she was already holding, now clasping Regina's between both of her own. "Are you happy?"

"I…" Regina swallowed, memories of wine in her kitchen and family dinners flashing through her head. Emma hovering too close while she'd chopped vegetables for dinner, and how hard she'd had to concentrate on keeping from shaking with that knife in her hand while Emma trailed lazy circles on the small of her back. Kisses pressed to cabernet-stained lips when they thought Henry wasn't looking.

He'd caught them once. They'd been watching some movie with the lights turned low, Henry in the loveseat and herself and Emma behind him on the couch, sitting perhaps too close for friends. They'd been sharing a blanket. She'd glanced away from the movie and there Emma was, fingers dancing absentmindedly over Regina's thigh. Emma had leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to Regina's cheek and then to her lips.

"Gross. You're like teenagers," Henry had called dramatically, laughing when they'd jumped apart. "Don't worry, I won't tell Grandma," he'd added, and then kicked his feet up on the cushions like he knew he wasn't supposed to and turned back to the movie like nothing had happened. Not fifteen minutes later he'd stretched dramatically, kissed them both on the cheek, and told them he was going to bed.

That had been the first time their son had seen anything of their...relationship, but he didn't seem surprised. Their son. Their wonderful, accepting son.

"I was," Regina concluded. "Before."

Snow smiled, a tiny, knowing crook at the corner of her lips. "Okay then. That's all I want. For both of you." She patted Regina's hand and gave it one final squeeze before releasing it. "Besides, the fact that she remembers you two doing...stuff means that she's starting to remember. So let's find a way to get back to the people that we both love more than anything in this world."

Regina let her eyes flutter closed and sighed. She was going to regret this. "I have a confession to make," She said, and when she opened her eyes again Snow was staring at her like nothing could possibly be crazier than the admission of her and Emma's romance. "I...I didn't find the portal in the coffee shop." Snow frowned. "I made it. I can make another. One in her apartment." She picked up the mirror, tracing the frame with one finger and watching as the cracks threading the surface began to glow with a soft purple. "I think it's time we all had a heart-to-heart."

Emma threw her keys into the little holder bowl and kicked off her shoes. She'd gone back to work today, and she'd been out to run a few errands after. It'd been three days since her day with Henry - three days since the last Regina incident. The voices had stopped since then too, and despite herself, Emma felt their loss as an ache in her chest.

"Hey, kid, I'm home," She called, shrugging off her jacket. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted Henry seated in a barstool at the island. She tossed the jacket over the back of the couch. "How was your day?"

"Confusing," Henry spat, and Emma whipped around, startled by the animosity in his usually warm voice. There, spread out on the counter in front of him, was a collection of photos.

The photos.

"What are these?" He gestured to the pictures, continuing when Emma could do nothing but stare with her mouth open. He picked one of them up, holding it out so that Emma could see it. "Why am I in this? This is the woman you asked me about, and I know she was the one you were talking to in the coffee shop the other day. So who is she? Why did you lie to me when I asked about her?"

"Henry…" Emma trailed off, unable to find the words to explain. How could she, when she didn't understand herself? She took the photo from him, studying it. It was the shot of them in the diner, surrounded by people they'd never met. The one that she had pored over since she found it. For a moment her eyes lingered on Regina again, on the way her hand clasped over Henry's arm and the loose smile on her face as she leaned in towards him. Emma's own fingers reaching out to brush her back. Swallowing, she flipped it over.

"It says family. That's your handwriting," Henry added, accusing, jabbing a finger at the looping scrawl.

"Henry," She repeated, with the intent of some sort of explanation, but he cut her off.

"I found them on your bed. I know you've seen them before." He met Emma's eyes, desperation in his gaze. "Who is she? Why are we in these pictures, mom?"
Tears stung at her eyes and Emma placed the photo delicately back on the counter. "I don't know, Henry. The truth is, I don't know." She looked away, unable to take the pain behind his brown eyes. After a moment of silence, she sighed. "I found them a couple weeks ago, in some old box in the closet. I don't know what they are, or where they're from."

"And you didn't tell me?"

Emma looked up, heart aching as she saw tears welling in her son's eyes. "I didn't know what to say, Henry. I found pictures of us with people we'd never met. I started hearing voices, I...I started seeing that woman. What did you expect? I didn't want to worry you. I didn't want you to think your mom was going crazy, I...I thought it was all in my head." That last part wasn't entirely true, but admitting how real it had all felt…

Henry looked away, turning back to the photos on the counter. He picked up another picture, this time the one with him making a face, his nose wrinkled and his tongue sticking out. Regina was laughing at his side, a hand clasped to his arm. The picture with the wine glasses on the counter. He held it for a second and stared, as if taking in every detail, and then turned back to his mother. "Who is she, mom?" The anger had drained from his voice, replaced with an ache that had become all too familiar to Emma in the past few days.

"I don't know, Henry. That's the truth," She added, when a bit of skepticism crossed his teenaged face. "I've talked to her a few times, and…" She sighed, building up the courage to admit the truth out loud. "And it seems like she just disappears afterwards. Since I found the photos she just appears, and then she's gone the next moment."

"I feel like I know her." The words were barely audible. Henry's gaze was still fixated on the photo in his hands.

"I know what you mean." Emma stepped closer to her son and laid a hand on his arm, giving him a quick squeeze. "I don't know who she is, but I miss her." She shook her head. "Her name is Regina. I know that much."

Henry met her eyes. Tears were brimming in his own, and Emma pulled him into a hug, allowing him to sob into her shirt, though neither of them fully understood why.

"I know," Emma whispered, and she did, in her heart, even if her mind hadn't quite caught up. She rubbed a hand over his back. "I know, Henry. I'm so sorry. I should have told you."

They stood like that for a minute, until Henry pulled back and sat back in his bar stool. He turned to the pictures, gathering them into a neat stack. After careful consideration, he placed the one of him making a face on top, pausing just a moment too long as he looked it over again.

"I don't know who she is, and I don't know why, but I have this feeling that she's important," He explained, a frown creasing his young features. "Like we're missing something big, and she's the key."

Emma nodded. "I think you're right, kid. You always were smarter than me," She joked, and Henry let out a tiny laugh, a sad sound that echoed in all the wrong ways in their apartment. Suddenly, it didn't feel like home anymore.

"Well, I can't argue with that."

Emma jumped and spun to face the new voice. New, but one that she'd know anywhere.

Regina.

She was leaning against the back of the couch, a thin gray coat hanging over her folded hands. She fiddled with it the moment Emma turned, but just like in the coffee shop, her eyes were locked behind Emma.

On Henry.

On her son.

On their son. Emma had no idea why, but she knew in that instant. Henry was their son.

"You're her," Henry breathed behind her, and she turned to find him out of his seat, gripping the countertop as if for support.

Regina swallowed, a thick, heavy motion, and shifted her weight between her feet. She bit her lip before she spoke, dark eyes wide and glittering with pain.

"Hello, Henry. It's really good to see you."