a/n: thank you to those who let me know that the formatting got messed up on the last chapter!

Regina frowned. "It seems I went a little too...intense. I'm sorry."

Emma stared at her, blinking, trying to right herself. She shook her head. "I'm okay, kid," she said, directed at Henry, who was still staring at her like she'd had a heart attack. "That's okay," She added, turning back towards Regina. "Just...what was that? The last part, I mean."

Regina stepped back from her, folding her arms over her chest. "It seems I was pushing too hard. I managed to show you my own memories."

The rest of the night passed in a dazed silence. Every time either of them went to speak, the conversation would fizzle out within a few sentences. There was just...too much. What could they say?

Emma made them each a hot chocolate, and they nursed them at the kitchen table. Eventually Henry dozed off in his chair. Emma sighed, gathering the dishes and rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher. He looked so peaceful in his sleep - and really, wasn't that everything that she'd ever hoped for her son? Was she ruining that now by bringing this...what, magic?..onto him?

Even as she had the thought she shook it off - this was clearly not where they were meant to be. And if Henry really had more family, if he really had another mother, who was she to take that from him? All she'd ever wanted for him was to have what she never had, and that included family. No matter how strange.

"I think that's enough for tonight." Regina had hesitated for a moment, wringing her hands together once more. "I'll be back, I promise. If you need me...just, leave a message in the mirror. It's the one way I can see through realms. I had to know that you two were safe...and happy."

Regina's last words to her played through her mind. She'd cast a nervous glance between Emma and their son, told him she loved him. Her eyes had flickered back towards Emma as she spoke those last words, and Emma shivered as she remembered the shaky voice murmuring in her ear as she drifted off to sleep.

I love you.

And with that she'd disappeared in a puff of dark purple smoke; just as she had in the coffee shop.

Emma glanced at the decorative mirror that overlooked the kitchen. Was Regina watching her now? She looked away, as if she'd been caught staring, which was ridiculous. As she placed the mugs in the sink and turned on the faucet to rinse them, she tried to discern whether or not she felt violated by the quiet observation. Regina had assured her that she hadn't intruded on anything private, but there was something about being watched that shouldn't sit right.

Shouldn't - that was the key word. To her surprise, she found herself strangely comfortable with it.

It's because she's supposed to be here in the first place.

The thought whispered in the back of her mind. The voice was her own this time, and she sighed, trying to reconcile the words with what she'd learned the past few nights.

A weight hung heavy on her shoulders all of the sudden - the weight of that dress that she'd so briefly worn, the weight of the agony in her chest even worse. All encompassing. Ok, so she hadn't actually worn the dress, hadn't actually been there, hadn't experienced that pain. But Regina had, and god, sharing her memory had felt so real.

Guilt flashed through Emma's chest. As difficult as her life had been, it seemed for once she'd gotten the easy way out — a beautiful apartment with her son and no memory of the place she once called home or the people she once called family. No memories, no pain - at least not longing for a home that she'd actually had. That begged the question - how had she ended up in Storybrooke? If it was real, had she even grown up in the foster system? Had she had parents, in this strange fantasy world of Regina's?

Had she kept Henry?

The plate in her hand wobbled as her wrist gave way, slipping out of her hand and shattering on the floor.

Henry jumped awake, on his feet and in the kitchen in an instant. "What happened?"

"Nothing," Emma reassured him quickly, hand out to keep him from walking any further and cutting his feet. "I just dropped one, that's all."

He stared at the floor for a few moments too long, groggy, watching as his mother bent to pick up the larger of the pieces. "Are you okay, ma?"

Emma nodded. She bent over to retrieve the shards and Henry shuffled over to the closet, pulling the broom from the corner and holding it out to her. "Thank you," Emma replied, taking the offer. She hesitated before moving to sweep up the shards.

"You called me ma."

Henry wrinkled his brow. "What?"

"Just now," Emma continued. "You said are you okay, ma. You usually call me mom."

He paused, but then shrugged. "I guess it was just a fluke. It's been a long night."

Emma studied him for a moment. It was clear he was uncertain, but she decided to let it go. For the moment, anyway — he'd had a long night. Guilt clutched at her chest, memories of a decision long since made threatening to stifle her once more. But she'd kept him, she'd done what she thought was best. She kept him, in order to give him a better life than she'd had in the system, and despite everything, she'd done just that-

Except, had she really?

She had to have. Right? Nothing about what Regina had said would indicate otherwise - except Henry had been almost as old as he was now in that memory where they'd shared their first kiss, and Regina was clearly already his mother, so they couldn't have raised him together. And what was that comment about him sneaking out of Regina's home - why did he live in Regina's home, and why was Emma's chest suddenly so tight?

Images of a frantic Regina surged through her mind - hair cropped shorter than she'd yet seen it, mascara tear tracks streaking her face as she barreled into a tiny Henry and wrapped him up in her arms - face crumpling as Emma heard her own voice, distant, barely an echo in the face of this woman, so clearly devastated:

Hi.

Emma jolted out of her thoughts as soon as they'd come, realizing Henry was still staring at her expectantly. She sighed and shook her head, willing the racing thoughts away. Exhaustion hung heavy in her limbs. "Alright. Yeah. Go to bed, kid. Get some sleep."

A tiny bit of concern flashed over his face, and without word he pulled her into a hug, squeezing her just as tight as she'd done to earn complaints just a few days before. It all seemed so distant now. Emma squeezed back with equal force, wrapping her free hand around his shoulder and holding him there. Eventually he pulled back and bid her goodnight before shuffling off to his room.

Emma finished sweeping up the mess, fighting to keep her mind blank, before heading to bed herself. She slid beneath the covers, propping a couple pillows next to her as if she had someone to snuggle. She tried not to think about how sad that was, but after everything that had happened, she couldn't deny the fact that she felt more and more lonely with each passing day. And she knew, without a doubt, that it was Regina she wanted to have curled against her.

And there it was, as always, just as she was drifting into blackness.

This time it wasn't Regina's voice, however - it was Henry's.

The pitch was higher, just younger than he was now, but there was no mistaking it.

Goodnight, mom. Goodnight, ma.

Snow was waiting for her when she got back.

"How did it go? How was she? How was Henry? Did they remember you? Did they remember me? Did they -"

Regina held up a hand and Snow stopped talking. Instead she plopped down onto the couch - one of many in one of many sitting rooms throughout the castle that they were currently calling home. A faint cloud of dust surrounded her, but she didn't seem to notice. Regina followed, sitting much more carefully in order to avoid the same puff of dander that Snow had been so oblivious to.

Snow was fidgeting, leaning forward eagerly, all that princess training chipping away in the face of news of her once again estranged daughter's fate. 'So?" She asked, all but bouncing in her seat.

Regina fought the urge to roll her eyes, though she couldn't help the smile tugging at her lips. "Emma's fine. So is Henry."

"Just fine? Were they thrilled to see you? Do they remember you?' The words tumbled from her mouth again, seemingly of their own will, and Regina covered the brunette's hand with her own. Snow calmed at the contact, stopping her barrage of questions and instead regarding Regina with questioning intent. "Well?"

Regina sighed, the pit in her chest forming once more as she thought of the news she was going to have to deliver. She shook her head, deciding it was better to just put it out there. "Henry remembers nothing."

Snow's features dropped at that. "Nothing at all? Not even a little bit?"

Regina shrugged, trying not to read too much into it for her own sake. "He knew that he knew me, but that was about it. He didn't remember why, he just knew that he knew me."

Snow frowned. "Well, that's something isn't it?"

"Yes, I suppose that it is." She sighed, a fresh ache forming in her chest as she recalled the way he'd studied her when she'd first appeared, as if he almost remembered. The way she'd tried to lift his chin, her hand passing clear through his skin, telling him: I'm your mother, Henry.

Another memory surfaced before she could tamp it down —

No you're not.

It stung at the back of her throat, even now threatening tears, this memory of a much younger Henry recoiling from her touch. She'd been so afraid he'd react that way again. Fear had clutched at her chest the instant the words had left her mouth. This time he had Emma, and a perfect life —

And yet, she hadn't needed to worry, because here he was, once again throwing his hope behind her.

And now, that echo of a memory was replaced with a new one.

I believe in you.

The truest believer indeed.

Snow covered Regina's hand with her own, threading their fingers and bringing the other woman back to the present with a gentle squeeze.

"Don't worry, Regina. We'll find a way to get back to them. They'll remember us. It's just going to take time."

Regina squeezed back, unable to help the smile that pulled at the corners of her lips. Though she ragged on her for it at every opportunity, she'd come to rely on Snow's constant optimism more than she'd like to admit.

When she didn't say anything in reply, the younger woman continued, "I'd really like to see them."

Regina sighed, pulling her hand from the other woman's and reaching for her mirror. She waved her hand over the surface and it rippled, revealing an image of Emma and Henry - of their family - sat at their kitchen table, sipping hot chocolate in silence. She frowned, worrying at the inside of her lip, the knowledge that this disruption to their perfectly constructed life was her fault gnawing a pit in her stomach. But still, wasn't it better to know the truth? She knew her son. He would want to know.

And she'd like to think Emma would as well.

Eventually she nodded, turning to face Snow, who'd been regarding her patiently as she'd considered. "Alright. I know. I owe you that much, at least." Snow only offered her a soft, understanding smile, and Regina continued, "I think I should talk to Emma first, though."

You'll have never given him up. You'll have always been together.

The words echoed in her mind the instant she returned consciousness and Emma shot upright, the realization pitting heavy in her stomach.

She'd given him up.

She'd given Henry up. She hadn't kept him. Every memory she'd had of raising him, of cooking him breakfast, of sending him off to school, of plastering bandaids over skinned knees — they'd all been left there by Regina.

It won't be real.

But your future will be.

Emma started, suddenly aware of a repetitive beeping coming from the nightstand. Her alarm, she realized, snatching her phone from the table and clearing it out before punching in the number to her office.

"Yeah, this is Emma Swan. I'm sick, I can't come in today."

"Miss Swan, this is the third time you've called out this month," The receptionist protested. "I really think you should reconsider —"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Emma mumbled, trying to ignore the way the term Miss Swan resonated in her chest. Flashes of another woman - Regina, voice gravelly with irritation - saying those words played in her mind. She swallowed, pulling herself back to the present. "Like I said. I'm sick. I can't come in."

With that she hung up, tossing her phone to the side. It landed beside her on the bed with an unsatisfying thud.

She was going to get fired.

Then again, what did that really matter, when none of this was real anyway?

She pushed the thought out of her mind. Of course it mattered — she had a son to take care of and bills to pay, and those were very real. Very real indeed.

Her phone buzzed shortly after and Emma stared at a text from Laura, the only sort-of-friend she'd managed to make in New York.

Are you alright? You've been calling off an awful lot lately. Boss lady is pissed.

Emma sighed, attempting to tamp down the wave of regret that was threatening to settle in her chest. She needed to be home to figure things out.

I'm fine. Just keep getting sick. Don't want to spread it around the office. She shot back, hoping the other woman would accept the excuse without question.

Okay. If you need anything, let me know. The message popped up, followed shortly by another reading feel better soon. Emma managed a smile before shooting back a thank you.

With that she dialled Henry's school, calling him out sick as well before making her way to the kitchen to put on a pot of coffee. She had a feeling she was going to need it. Henry was bound to have questions, and she wasn't likely to have answers for them. She slipped into his room while she was waiting for the coffee to brew, quietly turning off his alarms for the school morning. He deserved to sleep in after the night they'd had.

Emma returned to the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of the hot liquid before making her way to the living room. On the way she passed the decorative mirrors she had hung to the wall, and she stopped. She stared into her reflection for a moment, heart thudding in her chest, before murmuring, "If you're there, we need to talk."

Another moment passed and nothing happened. She let out the breath she'd been holding, drawing a long sip of her coffee before heading to the couch. Maybe Regina wasn't awake yet -

A puff of purple smoke sent her stumbling backwards, and she landed on the couch, hot coffee splashing down the front of her pajamas.

"Emma? Are you alright?" Regina asked, regarding the scene before her.

"You scared the shit out of me," Emma breathed, setting her mug down on the coffee table and peeling her soaked shirt away from her skin.

"Sorry." The brunette at least had the decency to look sheepish as she added, "You did invite me."

Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes. "Just - wait here. I'm going to go change." She ducked off towards her bedroom, throwing on a fresh pajama shirt before making her way back into the living room. "Alright," was all she said.

Regina fiddled with the hem of her shirt. "You said you wanted to talk?"

"Right," Emma breathed, and the reality of the situation crashed down around her once more. She sat back where she'd fallen before, gesturing for Regina to sit as well, though she wasn't quite sure how that would work, given the lack of physical contact the brunette was able to make. Still, she managed a decent job of faking it, perching on the edge of Emma's sofa. Silence stretched between them for several minutes before Emma could bring herself to speak.

Emma frowned. "I didn't keep him, did I?" The question came out as barely a whisper, and Emma heard Regina's breath catch in her throat.

"What?"

The brunette seemed startled by the question, mouth slightly agape, and Emma swallowed against the dryness of her throat. She forced herself to repeat it.

"Henry. Did I keep him?" She brought her eyes up to meet the other woman's. Regina only stared, wringing her hands together in her lap. It was all the confirmation that Emma needed, and she stated as much. "I gave him up, didn't I?"

Regina nodded, the motion so slight Emma almost didn't catch it. "Yes, you did. I adopted him when he was a baby."

"But I remember keeping him." Emma insisted, anger lacing her voice in a way that she hadn't meant to let through, in a way that she instantly regretted at the other woman's wince. "I'm sorry. I...I didn't mean that."

Regina shook her head. "No, it's fine. I understand." But the pain was still there, in the crease of her brow and the set of her jaw, and Emma felt her chest constrict. "I gave you those memories."

Emma recalled the rush of emotion she'd experienced in that memory, when Regina had taken her hands and regarded her with tears in her eyes. Make good memories. "What do you mean?"

"Storybrooke was destroyed. I had to give up the things I loved most." She met Emma's eyes at that. "And if I was going to have to give you up...I had a chance to create a new life for the two of you. I wanted it to be a good one. So I wrote you a life in which you'd never given him up. A life where you'd raised him, and been happier for it. I even gave you a few of my own memories of Henry growing up."

Emma paused to consider this. It really wasn't anything crazier than what she'd already heard of her apparent former life. She'd wrestled so hard with that decision when she'd been presented with it - had been so certain, up until the moment the nurse had asked if she'd wanted to hold him. She didn't want to think it - but it was possible that in another life she'd chosen not to. That she'd let them take him without a fight. She'd done what she'd thought was best, what gave him his best chance at a happy life - what if she'd thought his best chance was with someone else? Someone like Regina?

"Did you give him a good life?'

It was all she could think to ask. Regina frowned, eyes ducking.

"I'd like to think so." She paused, hands moving from wringing together to worry at the hem of her shirt. "We were well off, to say the least. He had everything he wanted. I loved him," she added, a ferocity behind the words that Emma hadn't expected to hear. "I do love him. We fought for awhile." Her eyes flickered back up towards Emma as a smirk crossed her painted lips. "We fought about you, actually. He went and found you, on your twenty-eighth birthday. He brought you back to Storybrooke and I thought my world was going to end." Her eyes took on a mischievous glow as she regarded the blonde. "We fought, Emma, you and I. We fought so hard. I hated you, at first. I thought you were trying to take him away from me." She chuckled, biting at her lower lip. "But you weren't, and eventually we found a way to work together. Somewhere along that line I fell in love with you." Her eyes were softer now, warm amber, trained on Emma as if she didn't dare look away. "And then the curse came, and I made you take Henry away, the very thing I'd been so terrified of from the beginning. And now here I am, and I'd give anything just to be back in Storybrooke, watching that hideous yellow bug of yours pull up to my home with our son in the passenger seat."

"Is there a way to make that happen again? To bring you back to this world?" Emma breathed. It all still sounded so surreal, this other life that she'd supposedly lead, but she was finding that she wanted more than anything for it to be true. She'd been aching for this since the first day she'd found that stack of photos in that haunting jewelry box, whether she'd wanted to admit it or not.

Regina shook her head. "No. I mean, yes, there probably is. Many, for that matter. But we haven't discovered any yet."

"We?"

"Yes. I'm with family. Your family, actually." The brunette crossed the space between them, moving to stand in front of Emma's loveseat. She reached for the younger woman's hand, only a tiny bit of disappointment crossing her features when her skin passed through the other's as if she was a ghost. "That's part of what I wanted to discuss. I'm with your parents."

Emma jerked her hand back as if she'd been burned, trying to ignore the hurt that crossed Regina's features. "I don't have parents," She stated, half as an explanation for her reaction and half defensive. She swallowed. "I grew up in the foster system. I never got adopted. I don't have parents."

Regina tucked her arms against herself, hand that had been in ghost-contact with Emma's held securely against her chest. "I know," was all she said. Emma stared expectantly at her, demanding an explanation. "I know," She repeated, before continuing, "That's my…well." she shook her head. "A discussion for another time," She breathed. "You met them as an adult. You were kept apart from one another. You know them now. Their names are Mary Margaret and David. You've seen them. In those photos we left."

They were Mary Margaret's idea, actually. Something to help you remember.

"I…" Emma trailed off, unsure how to continue. Her thoughts from the night before pressed back into her mind - did I have parents? - and without warning she stood, causing Regina to stumble backwards. She made her way into the bedroom, pulling the jewelry box from the top of her dresser where she'd placed it after Henry had gone to bed the night before. She pulled the photos from their envelope and returned to the living room with the stack held out in her hand. "Show me," She demanded.

Regina eyed the pictures. "I can't touch them."

"Right." Emma dropped to the ground, spreading the photos carefully on the carpet, side by side. Her eyes lingered over the couple by the well. She ignored it, placing the group photo at the top. "Show me," she repeated.

Regina bent down to meet her. She reached out to rest her fingers lightly on Emma's knee - or at least to mimic the movement. Emma met the older woman's eyes, ignoring the apprehension in her amber gaze as she asked, "Are you sure?"

"Yes," Emma breathed.

Regina nodded, breaking eye contact and pointing down towards one of the pictures. "There. That's them."

The couple by the well.

That makes sense, a voice whispered in the blonde's mind. The way she'd been wrapped in longing and regret and comfort and warmth all at the same time when she'd seen it the first time. The way the pixie-haired woman had been resting her head on Emma's shoulder in the group photo.

Only family would be allowed to do that.

Still, though: "She looks my age," Emma blurted out, and Regina let out a laugh.

"Yes, that's because she is." She shook her head. "I'll tell you all about that. Just...next time," Regina promised. "For now, she wants to meet you. Again. I told her I'd ask."

Emma frowned, heart stuttering. She'd been without parents for so long. She was a foster kid, she -

"I don't know. Yes," She blurted out, before amending, "Maybe. I don't know. I…" She sighed, lungs deflating. "I've just…"

Regina reached for her again, this time trying to take her hand. It didn't work, of course, but she still smiled when the outline of her hand passed through Emma's skin. "I know. Take your time. She'll wait." The smile was sad. It didn't quite meet her eyes. "I will too." When Emma didn't speak, she added, "What do you think?"

"I don't know. It's just...a lot to take in." Emma frowned.

Regina's face fell, but she nodded, avoiding eye contact. "I understand."

Emma set her jaw, leaning forward to close the distance between them. She moved to reach for the other woman, for a moment forgetting that they couldn't touch, even though their hands had passed through one another moments ago. Her hand fell back to her side, but Regina watched, having caught the motion. She raised her eyes to meet the blonde's.

"I need some time," Emma continued, frowning when the brunette's eyes darkened. She swallowed, struck by a sudden urgency that tightened her chest, threatening her ability to breathe. "But I need you to know that I meant what I said."

"What?" Regina asked,

"I remember saying it. I—" Emma frowned. "This is a lot. I have a lot to...to think about. To consider." She worried at her bottom lip. "But I do love you. That much, I'm certain of."

Regina's breath hitched in her throat audibly. "I love you too," She breathed. After a moment, she added, "I should go. I'll give you some time."

Emma offered her a soft smile. "I think that would be best." She shook her head. "Henry will be sad that he missed you."

"I know. I'll be back soon enough. That is, whenever you want me to be."

"It won't be long," Emma promised, and despite herself, despite the weight on her shoulders at everything the brunette had told her, she meant it. Every part of her ached to have the other woman there with her.

"Good," Regina replied, hand resting just above Emma's before she disappeared once more.