A/N: You guys really are the best. Your response has been incredible, as always, and I couldn't be more flattered - more honored. I really love y'all, and I hope you have a wonderful rest of the week.

CHAPTER 22 – Regina – Changed

I arrived in New York at around half past six in the evening and, I had to admit, the sight that greeted me was not one I had expected.

Every shop, every house was brimming with decorations. The Christmas season had begun, and I had been so lost in my own little world that I hadn't even noticed the festivity was on its way.

For reasons I didn't care to know, Christmas had been a tradition of this land that Rumplestiltskin's curse had maintained when I created Storybrooke. Nevertheless, after it broke the citizens that were most attached to their former lives in the Enchanted Forest refused to indulge the celebration, hence the streets of Storybrooke weren't quite as overdressed as they once used to be. Consequence being, I hadn't realized it was only two days away.

As I pulled over in front of the Magic & More Designs' building, I mentally steeled myself for what I was about to do. I may have worked there for no longer than a handful of months, but I was aware of just how big of an impression I had made and how much I was going to be missed. Quitting the job was going to take a lot of patience and a lot of convincing… two attributes I wasn't in the mood of humoring, at the moment. And yet, I didn't have a choice; determined to get it over with, I got out of my Mercedes and let the icy, polluted air give me the necessary strength to deal with my resignation.

I entered the establishment and was fearfully greeted by the receptionist, whose insincere smile had me roll my eyes at her, before I made my way to the third floor: I needed to check my office and analyze the magical residue – assuming that it hadn't faded away yet – that enveloped the folder with Snow's apartment information. Not that I didn't know whose magic it was; I simply wanted to be able to recognize it, in case… she… showed up. After all, I had never seen her in person, before: it was my only way to identify her.

As I opened the door to my office, I was surprised to find it in the exact same conditions I had left it, almost a week ago. It was striking, almost as if time had stood still while I was gone.

Shaking those pointless thoughts away, I started rummaging through the files on my desk, until I found the one I was looking for. I hesitantly brought it closer to my face and took a deep breath, inhaling the effervescent, sweet, primordial scent of her magic. Thankfully it was still there, perhaps because of the might of its holder, or perhaps simply because magic wasn't supposed to exist, in this Land, and every trace of it didn't simply fade away.

Either way, I stored its identifying traits in my memory, and once I was sure I would be able to distinguish it, I headed towards Mr. Dawson's office.

"Regina!" he exclaimed with a warm smile, after he let me in. "What brings you back so soon?"

"I'm afraid I'm not exactly back," I replied. I was beginning to feel vaguely nervous, but I managed to keep my voice stern and my expression impassive. "I came to resign."

His mouth parted slowly as he processed my words, his smile instantly replaced with a frown. "May I ask what led you to this decision?"

"I'm moving back to my hometown," I lied, "which is much too far for me to be able to keep this job. I realize it's abrupt, but I'm not going to change my mind."

Mr. Dawson nodded wearily, every ounce of cheerfulness now completely erased. "If you're sure, I'm not going to stop you. I only need you to sign this – it's your termination claim – and you'll be free to go. You will be missed, Regina."

"I know. I will miss this job as well." And it was true. During the past few months I had, admittedly, enjoyed working as an interior designer. Surely, here my decorative talent was more appreciated than back in Storybrooke.

Once I was dismissed, I drove to my apartment and informed my landlord I wouldn't be renting the place anymore. While I had left my job because it was of no use to me – after all, I didn't need the money and I didn't have a pretend identity to maintain – moving out of that apartment was a prevention. That way, even if Emma and her hotheadedness decided to come after me and look for me here, in New York, she would have a hard time finding me.

I emptied the flat and forced the last of my belongings inside an empty bag I had brought along, loaded that inside my car as well and drove to the other side of New York in search of another place to live. Luckily, in this land money was exponentially influential, and I managed to rent a small loft at an incredibly disproportionate price. At least, being on the second-to-last floor of a considerably tall skyscraper, the view from the window was striking.

In order to keep my mind off of things for as long as possible, I immediately dove into unpacking, making sure to take my time and prolong the distraction.

It wasn't until I opened my handbag to get my cellphone that I remembered about the jewelry box. I took it out and looked intently at it. Now, that I did not know anything about. I had never seen it in my books, I had never heard of magically materializing crystals… I didn't even understand why it had appeared or who had sent it to Emma and I. I studied the incisions on the wooden surface, but there was nothing important; just a wavy pattern, its purpose only decorative. However, as I turned the box upside down (the lack of noise and movement from inside had me guess that the crystals weren't as subject to gravity as most things) I noticed a different engraving on the bottom facet: cursive words, in an ancient language – Latin, I reckoned – almost camouflaged in the surrounding curves and curls.

"Dolorem Animi Extinguo," I read, inadvertently muttering the words out loud, as I lightly traced the etching with my fingers. 'I erase the pain of the soul'.

The sentence didn't sound familiar, and I was growing more and more frustrated: I didn't like not knowing why I had that box.

I opened it and painstakingly eyed the crystals, careful not to remove them from the velvet cushion. There was magic emanating from them, even in this land. I recognized Emma's and mine, although I could sense a third and, perhaps, even a fourth one, both almost as puissant as hers, and surely just as transcendental. Infinitely more powerful than Emma and I could ever be, maybe even more than us two combined.

It was frightening, earnestly. I ignored its origin and its purpose, and I feared it.

Deciding the stress it was causing me wasn't beneficial in the slightest, I closed the jewelry box and placed it back in the purse. It was a concern I could get back to at a later date. I took my phone out, checking the time: it was ten in the evening. I imagined running a bath would help me relax, and it was a nice way to postpone the moment I'd go to sleep.

I stripped as warm water filled the tub, and once I sank among apple-scented bubbles I let my mind drift. Firstly, I thought about the upcoming night: I remembered all-too-well the restlessness I had had to endure the past few months, the monstrosity my mind turned into on a daily basis, the noise that filled my head and never stopped. I didn't want to undergo that awful experience again, and I hoped that, now that I had my memories and I knew New York wasn't my real home, I wouldn't have to.

I blankly stared at the ceiling as I let my mind wander. Every thought I had seemed to lead me, inevitably, to Emma; so I yielded to the path my mind was travelling.

Firstly, I thought about True Love's kiss. It had only happened twelve hours ago, albeit it seemed much longer. The reason why us kissing had broken the curse only today, although it had been about five days since we first shared one, was quite obvious, to me: despite the fact that the feelings I bore for her had been awakened almost immediately, it was only after I remembered her that True Love was able to completely blossom. Up until this morning, I was only in love with the Emma I had met in front of Magic & More Designs. I didn't know who she really was – I didn't know who I really was – therefore it was impossible for me to love her wholly. When she had started telling me about those adventures we had lived together, she triggered something that had me remember her; I imagined it was partially due to her magic circulating in my system, the magic she had used to heal me: a part of her was flowing inside of me, of course it would instigate some sort of reaction. It was only after those memories flooded me that I was able to love every single side of her personality – the maddening blonde that dared to challenge me at every given occasion, the Savior that didn't want the burden of everyone's happy endings on her shoulders, the orphan that couldn't accept the reality of having a family, the woman scared of her powers, the Dark One. During the three years that Emma had been a part of my life, I had fallen for her slowly, imperceptibly, unknowingly. And she felt the same.

I sank deeper into the bubbles. I wondered what she was doing now, how she was doing. A large, irrational part of me wished, against any better judgment, that she would burst in my apartment and kiss me until everything would be okay. I wished I could simply go back home and erase any threat that could come our way.

I couldn't let myself accept reality for what it was… not yet. I wasn't ready to live with the knowledge that I would likely never be able to make love to Emma again, that there was a chance I would never see Henry. I wasn't ready to embrace the truth, so, as I drained the tub and got ready to sleep, I let my mind meander in reveries and fantasies.

As I slipped in my bed, my heart pounding for what was about to happen, a loud beep from my phone announced an incoming text. I opened it, curious to see who it could possibly be from, and my heart skipped a beat at the identity of the sender.

From: Emma I know you have troubles sleeping, so I figured I'd text you all night long, you know, so you won't have to be alone

Three other chimes followed.

From: Emma I mean, I get it if you don't want to hear from me

Actually, I don't get it, cause you left without a decent explanation, but I respect it, really

You're not the first one to leave and you won't be the last. Just know that I'm not mad at you or anything and I don't blame you at all

I stared unbelievingly at the screen. What did I ever do to deserve someone like Emma Swan? I had tortured and hurt countless people. I had been tortured and hurt countless times. You'd think the two would balance each other out; that my life would only consist in the pain I had caused to come back at me. But then, in between the sea of darkness that was my existence, there were these two beams of hope that lit the way to something so very similar to happiness: a happiness I didn't deserve, one that wasn't supposed to balance out the blackness of my pain but slowly was. And those two beacons in the veil of my desperation were Henry and Emma, two wonderful people that inexplicably happened to love me as much as I loved them.

And if there was something I knew for certain, it's that I did not deserve them in the slightest.

I had just broken Emma's heart – again – yet she was willing to spend the whole night texting me so that I wouldn't have a mental breakdown. Despite everything, she was willing to put aside her own wellness to prioritize mine. A White Knight in shining armor, through and through.

My fingers lightly hovered over the keys on my cellphone, unsure what to reply. I quickly typed in an empty, 'Thank you', before erasing it and replacing it with a, 'Go to sleep, Miss Swan'. Eventually, I gave up trying to think of a proper reply, set my phone aside and waited for the next notification from Emma to pop up; I knew she had been staring at the screen this whole time, anxiously eyeing the three dots that meant I had been typing. I could almost see the pout on her face when my text never arrived, and, despite everything, I smiled fondly at the device next to me, and the person on the other side of it.

From: Emma Fine, don't say anything. It's not like I was expecting you to, anyway

I huffed a bittersweet laugh at that. Of course she had been hoping to hear from me, and I felt even worse knowing I was still hurting her, even from six-thousand miles away.

From: Emma Oh, and if you don't want to listen to (or read) me rambling all night, just switch off your phone or something. I don't mind

Soooo… it's been a rough day

Henry spent the whole afternoon at that playground you got built for him after the storm. Feels like an eternity ago, doesn't it? When we used to hate each other and our lives were nothing but crazy stories in a kid's book

I kinda miss it, you know? All the bickering and the glares… Just imagine how much make-up-sex we'd have had, if we had figured this all out sooner

I bet it would've been rough

Okay, yeah, I'm getting out of topic

I was just tryina defuse the situation

It's not like I've been having a great time, on my part, and, despite not knowing why the hell you left, I have a feeling you haven't either

I just hope you'll get through this whole thing and come back soon

…

… You are coming back eventually, aren't you?

I could almost sense Emma's anxiety as the bombardment of texts abruptly paused. An overwhelming need to tell her that yes, I was going to go back to Storybrooke, eventually, struck me. I wanted to reassure her, to tell her that everything would be fine and we would live happily ever after.

But it would be the biggest lie I could ever tell her. Because, if this whole situation was going to end up the way I predicted it would, then none of the above was going to happen. Yes, there was a small chance that I'd make it out alive, but no matter how many Lands I cursed, no matter how many Writers I chased down, no matter how many times I fell in love… there was no such thing as a Happy Ending, for an Evil Queen.

And I realized that that was precisely the point: I didn't deserve happiness, and I wasn't going to have it. What I had had the good chance of sharing with Emma and Henry – maybe even what I had experienced with Daniel and Robin – wasn't but a small, infinitesimal portion of what would have been a Happy Ending: just enough for me to crave it with every ounce of my being, but never enough to completely satisfy me. And that – the endless torture of being so close to happiness to be able to taste it, but never close enough to grasp it… that was what I deserved.

Another series of rings from my phone.

From: Emma Of course you're not. I should've figured it out sooner

I mean, you wouldn't have made this big of a deal out of this whole situation, if you were planning on coming back

What can I say? I'm an idiot – always have been and always will be. An idiot who gets her hopes up and constantly sees them come crashing down

I guess I am kinda mad at you, now

I sighed wearily. How was I supposed to explain myself without putting her in danger? How could I tell her what I had done and what I was going to face to pay for my mistake without losing her, too?

I needed some air. I jumped out of bed and wrapped myself in what used to be Henry's favorite blanket. I exited my apartment and padded barefoot up the two flights of stairs that led to the terrace on the roof, swung open the metal door and perched myself onto the brick parapet. I hugged my knees as I looked up at the sky. I remembered what Emma had told me, days prior: the stars had been the only constant in the mass of changes that had been her life; they had been the only thing she could call 'home'. Curious how, while I watched those very same clusters of lights, I felt as lost as ever. I was as far away from home – both physically and spiritually – as I could bear.

I retrieved my phone from the pocket of my flannel pajamas – an unexpected change from my usual silk sleepwear, but one that gave me a slight solace – and snapped a picture of the two brightest stars.

To: Emma Quand tu regarderas le ciel, la nuit, puisque j'habiterai dans l'une d'elles, puisque je rirai dans l'une d'elles, alors ce sera pour toi comme si riaient toutes les étoiles.*

I stared at the caption for a moment, before finally sending the photograph. A stray tear left my eye, and I didn't bother wiping it away. I knew Emma wasn't familiar with foreign languages – Belle and fries were probably as far as her knowledge of French culture went. And maybe she had never read The Little Prince, but it was the fairytale I used to read the most to Henry when he was little, and that was a memory I had shared with her when I sent her and Henry to New York. I hoped she would understand the double meaning of those words, the symbolism hidden behind a children's book.

Because, soon enough, I would live on one of those stars; and I would laugh, finally at peace. And I hoped, in that moment, that Emma would be happy again, happy enough to laugh along with them.

She kept sending meaningless texts, never addressing my photo or the newfound awareness, albeit I could sense the tension behind her lighthearted words. But she never left me, and I smiled ruefully at the increasingly paling sky.

*When you look up at the sky at night, since I'll be living on one of them, since I'll be laughing on one of them, for you it'll be as if all the stars are laughing.