CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Shame

"Shit," Emma breathed, the realization of what the hell she had just done hitting her like a barreling freight train. "Shit."

The blonde sat nude on the edge of Regina's bed, her fingers digging into the mattress beneath her as she stared at the far wall, as though she somehow hoped to find the answers she craved hidden beneath the plaster. It left her with nothing however, except for the sound of her own harsh, conflicting thoughts screaming within her head.

"I would appreciate it if you had your morning after regret where I couldn't hear you, dear."

Emma nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of Regina's voice, and the movement brought her off the bed and to her feet as she rounded on the woman. She had thought she was still asleep. Although Regina's voice was poised and even, her face told another story. The woman couldn't even look at her as she gathered the sheets to her chest, covering herself as though she were afraid her nudity would freak Emma out now that the dust had settled and reality had set in.

It was ridiculous though, as Emma had seen Regina naked more than any other person in her entire life.

"N-No, it's not—" But her voice tremored and it sounded unconvincing, so Emma cleared her throat and looked away from her. "I just… headache," she finished lamely, which wasn't a lie. But then again, lately, she'd always had a headache right when she'd first woken up. Emma had just learned to accept it as another part of her daily routine, however, as she was certain that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

The blonde's eyes found the far window and she looked at the darkening sky; it must be well past dinner time by now. Emma wasn't sure when they had both fallen asleep, but it couldn't have been that long ago. She didn't feel well-rested in any sense. "Besides…" Emma continued, "I don't think it counts as morning after regret when the sun is setting."

"Semantics," Regina responded, her voice sounding hoarse and thick, almost as though it was painful to even utter the word. It made Emma look at her, and she noticeably cringed as she took in the sight of the brunette's throat. The bruises her fingers had made the night before were dark and angry looking, and if Emma hadn't known what had happened, she would have thought that someone had tried to kill her. The rest of Regina's body wasn't exactly unmarred either though, and for that matter, neither was her own. They both had left their mark on one another, in the only way that they ever really knew how.

Silence enveloped the room and the two women looked at each other, assessing the damage they had caused, second guessing the decision they had made. Emma felt sick to her stomach, though whether it was from the amount of liquor she had consumed the night before or what she had done thereafter, she didn't know. What she did know though was that it was her own damn fault, and the fact that she couldn't blame Regina for it all made her feel like crawling into a corner with a bottle of JD, idiotically wishing to revert back to the failing coping mechanism that had brought her into Regina's bed in the first place.

Alcohol was supposed to dull her pain, yet in the end, it had only caused her more. Emma looked at herself in the mirror each morning and hated what she saw, despised this shadow of a person that she had become, and last night, at the time, it had made perfect sense, to try an alternative means to dealing with her anger, blame, and incessant self-hatred. Now though, as she looked at the pain that crossed over Regina's expression as she expected nothing but rejection from the woman before her, Emma realized her decision only stood to make her hate herself just a little bit more.

Nothing, nothing she did anymore was right. Nothing she did anymore would ever fix what Regina had first broken, and what Emma herself had ultimately destroyed beyond repair.

So why even bother?

Maybe it was stupid anyway, to think that she could get away from her alcoholism so easily. Trading one addiction for another might work when the addiction was mental, but Emma's trembling, clammy hands and pounding headache told another story. The alcohol that was previously in her system had completely dissipated, leaving her feeling sick until she could find a way to replenish it; which, at the moment, she could not do.

"I should probably…" Emma tried, but ultimately ended trailing off and nodding her head towards the door as a way of explanation. It was awkward, waking up next to Regina after everything that had happened between them. Emma didn't know what to say to her. She didn't even know if it was mistake. The act itself, probably not; but the emotional baggage that they had both made exponentially heavier by doing it? That shit was probably going to end up crushing them.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Emma began to grab her discarded clothes off the ground with shaking fingers, feeling the need to just run from it all again – run from her – but two demanding words suddenly filled the small motel room, and Emma instinctively froze because of their tone.

"Sit. Down."

Emma blinked heavily before turning towards Regina, who was now standing not three feet from her, sheet still clutched to her chest. She did not look happy. "Uh…" Emma stumbled, not exactly expecting this. "What?"

"Do you really believe that I'm just going to let you walk out of here?" Regina asked her, her eyebrow arching as she stared Emma down, successfully making her feel about an inch tall from the judgment the look held. Gone was the woman who looked fearful of being tossed aside the morning after, as she was suddenly replaced by a version of Regina Mills that looked as though she had a purpose, and as Emma was pretty sure that that purpose was to yell at her for the better part of the next hour, she liked this version a whole lot less.

Emma opened her mouth to speak, but she wasn't given the chance to.

"Not only are you without a car and an actual way to leave, Miss Swan – as I was the one to drive you back from that disgusting excuse for an establishment last night – but I distinctly remembering telling you that we would talk about your idiocy come morning," Regina continued, advancing on her so that Emma had no place to go but backwards – right towards the couch. "Now, it might be a little bit later than I was actually intending to have this conversation, but we are going to have it, so I suggest you take a seat, less you wish to make this even more painful for yourself than it's already going to be."

Well, this really fucking sucks.

Wringing her hands tightly together, Emma nearly tripped over one of her shoes as she continued to withdraw until the back of her legs hit the upholstery, still trying to formulate some kind of reason to leave that didn't center around 'I need to drink something before I get really sick', because that was the last thing Regina needed to know about. "I…"

"Sit."

Emma sat.

The automaticity of it was kind of humiliating, to be honest. It was a glaring reminder that while Emma may top in bed, everywhere else, it was Regina who dominated with ease.

Emma gritted her teeth together, aggravated by how easily her body just reacted to Regina's demand. Still, the glaring issue of not having access to her car, nor remembering where the hell it was (seriously, Emma couldn't give you the bar's name right now even if you had a gun to her head – the night was now just one big, intoxicated blur), made it perfectly clear that despite how badly she wanted to, there was no way she was getting out of this.

This thought caused her to discreetly wipe her clammy palms on the edge of the couch, just before she gripped the fabric, trying to keep her hands from shaking where Regina could notice. Still, the position was a small comfort, as she was pretty damn sure that if she didn't get anything in her soon, Regina was gonna see just how bad off she was, which… could not happen.

Some things were just private.

"Look, as much fun as getting yelled at for the better part of the next hour sounds, look at me, Regina," Emma responded hastily, trying to give herself some time to think about what the hell she was going to do. "I need to shower at least, okay? Just give me that and then we can talk." Her right leg was bouncing about a thousand miles an hour, despite her attempts to stop it, and her anxiousness did not go unnoticed by Regina, whose gaze flickered down to the offending limb.

"Are you alright?" Regina asked, tilting her head to the side as she assessed Emma's current state, which only made the blonde practically slap her hand on her knee and press down, trying to make herself stop.

"I'm fine, okay? I just need to shower; I feel disgusting and I probably smell even worse than that. So can I just…?" Emma gestured erratically towards the bathroom, clearly impatient.

Regina stared her down for a few more seconds, debating her request, until she finally conceded with a soft, "Alright."

Emma practically flew off the couch.

She had expected Regina to put up more of a fight, to distrust that she might run, but once Emma was in the bathroom and the door was closed behind her, Emma realized why she hadn't: the room didn't have any windows. "Damnit," she cursed under her breath, not knowing what to do now.

The bathroom was neat and orderly, and despite the fact that it was attached to a motel room that's entire existence screamed temporary, Regina had clearly made a point to make herself as much at home there as she could. There was a small shelf in the corner where she kept all her toiletries and miscellaneous medications, and as Emma sat herself down on the toilet seat with her head in her hands, her gaze wandered to the bottom shelf where something caught her eye.

Within seconds her hand reached out, pushing the aspirin and a package of band aids out the way to get to what it was that she was looking at. Her fingers clasping around the bottle, Emma brought it towards to her, trying to ignore the little voice in her head that was screaming how there was low, and then there was pathetic.

Emma's eyes scanned the label of the NyQuil bottle and in the bottom left corner, found what it was that she was looking for; alcohol: twenty five percent. Though her anxiety lessened quite significantly at those words, Emma's lip still upturned, not only disgusted by what she might have to do, but also very, very wary of it. It was NyQuil, for fuck's sake. If she chugged the bottle, she'd probably end up passing out within the hour, and that might look a little bit suspicious.

Her foot began to rapidly bounce once more, anxiety overtaking her as she gripped the bottle tighter within her trembling hands.

She couldn't do this.

But she kind of had to do this, because if Regina… if she found out about—it just, it wasn't an option. Out of everyone in the world, the last person Emma wanted to know about how truly fucked off she was, was her. She really didn't know why – or maybe she really did – but she was also pretty damn sure that she didn't want to take a second and analyze it either. It just was what it was.

Emma took a deep breath, preparing herself for a new low, before suddenly her eyes fell on something on the corner of the sink and she shot up, the NyQuil completely forgotten and lying on the floor behind her. With one hand clasped around the square-shaped bottle, the other twisted off the cap in an instant before she put the plastic rim to her lips, set on devouring the last of its contents.

Mouthwash. She knew that had a fair amount of alcohol in it – at least as much as cold medicine – and it wasn't about to fuck her up in the serious way that NyQuil would have.

The Listerine burned its way down her throat and the intensity of the menthol flavor almost made her gag, but Emma kept going, knowing it was either this or medicine that would end up knocking her out cold. When she finished, Emma noticeably blanched, spitting into the sink before leaning over it with both hands, breathing heavily.

God, she was disgusting.

Emma closed her eyes and stood there for a few long moments, allowing the liquid to do its job. It wasn't as good as a nice shot or two of bourbon, but it would have to do for now. It took a little while, but finally Emma started to feel a bit better, and so she picked up her head and opened her eyes, being confronted by the image of herself in the small mirror over the sink.

Her hand twitched and Emma gripped the edge of the porcelain tighter, the urge to smash her reflection into a thousand pieces nearly consuming her whole. But that would cause attention she didn't want, so Emma forced herself to pull away and head over towards the shower, the desperation to not feel dirty anymore coming to the forefront of her mind.

But even as she turned on the water and stepped in, Emma knew that no matter what she did, no matter how hard she scrubbed herself, she would never really be clean. She had fallen much too far, and there was no way in hell now that she would ever be able to claw her way back up.

[x]

"Regina…" Emma tried, feeling exasperated with the woman's incessant dictation. She was cut off immediately, however.

"I'm sorry, did I give you the impression that this was a discussion?" Regina asked, quite rhetorically. "Because it is not. You're a mess, Emma, and I won't have you trekking halfway across the world looking for this man alone, especially considering that our son's wellbeing is tied to you being successful in your endeavors. If I were to leave you to your own devices, in two weeks you would most likely be lying in a ditch somewhere. I'm not about to just let that happen."

Emma gritted her teeth, aggravation seeping from her pores at Regina's words. "I'm not fucking incompetent."

"No?" Regina challenged. "Because I'm fairly certain that little show you put on last night proved otherwise. Do you even know where your car is? Because if you can tell me, I might actually consider your request for independence."

Damnit.

"At the bar," Emma answered dismissively, as though Regina was the one who was stupid for not realizing that she would know that. However, the brunette wasn't buying it and arched an eyebrow in her direction.

"Which bar?"

Emma exhaled a loud, aggravated sigh. "I don't know, the one with the damn pool tables?" she furiously shot back, pissed off that she had proven Regina's point. But fuck, she didn't need a babysitter. "Look, it really doesn't matter. You can't just keep me with you—"

"I can and I will," Regina snapped. "I don't trust you enough to allow you to be alone anymore, Emma. You've already demonstrated with glaring clarity that unless you have someone around to keep you from drinking yourself stupid, you will. And maybe I'm not as great of a motivation for you to stay relatively sober as Henry was, but regardless—"

"God, why do you even care?" Emma shouted, her frustration boiling over. "Are you that much of a masochist that you want to keep me around so we can screw each other up just a little bit more? Fucking hell, Regina! We can't be together twenty four seven; are you high?"

"I care because I love you, you idiot!" Regina exclaimed fiercely, taking a step towards her. "You're lucky I haven't tied you to this damn bed and forced you to detox yet, because it kills me to see what you're doing to yourself. But I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt because maybe, with support, you might actually want to get better on your own. It's why you slept with me last night, was it not?" Regina looked at her, the force of her gaze making Emma feel as though every wall she had ever built was being reduced to nothing but ash. "The drinking… it's not working anymore for you. It's not making anything better, is it?"

Emma furiously turned away from her, stalking towards the other side of the room to get some space from the woman before her. But even still, the small room did not provide her with much of an escape. "That's none of your damn business," Emma responded heatedly through clenched teeth. This was not a conversation that she wanted to have.

"Oh, really?" Regina questioned disbelievingly as she motioned towards her own body. "Because I believe I have at least fifteen different bruises that prove otherwise."

"What the hell do you want me to say?!" Emma shouted, rounding on her once more. She felt trapped, suffocated by the weight of a conversation she would rather set herself on fire than actually have. "That I'm sorry? Because I'm not. I enjoyed hurting you, Regina, maybe even more than I enjoyed getting hurt myself. Because you and I? We deserve it. We fucking deserve each other."

Regina stared at her, a fire brewing beneath her darkened eyes. Her lips pursed into a tight line for a moment, before she decided to hell with controlling herself, and brutally grabbed for Emma's wrist.

"What the hell are you—?!"

But Emma's words were lost to her as Regina viciously pulled her over towards the bathroom door, slammed it open with her foot, and pushed Emma inside, making her come face to face with herself in the mirror. "Look at yourself," Regina sneered, holding Emma's arms to her side while simultaneously blocking the door, making sure she couldn't escape that which she never wanted to face. "Is this the person you want to be for the rest of your life? The kind of mother you want to be to Henry? I know more than anyone what it feels like to hate yourself, but you… you let it consume you. It's eating you from the inside out, Emma, and you can't continue doing this; it's going to kill you!"

"Maybe everyone would be better off," Emma snapped, without even a thought to what she was really saying. She glared at Regina's reflection in the mirror, and honestly, she shouldn't have been surprised by what followed.

Suddenly her torso was slammed into the edge of the sink, knocking the breath from her lungs as everything that was once atop it went clattering to the floor. Jesus, they were like a walking advertisement for an abusive relationship, but in the end, it was the only way they knew how to communicate their emotions to each other. What Emma had said tore into Regina's soul, and the woman grabbed a fistful of her hair, wrenching her face towards the mirror again to force Emma to look into it.

"If you die, I die," Regina told her, voice dangerously low as the emotion in it shredded Emma's resolve to fucking pieces. The brunette was furious, yet so terribly frightened by the prospect. "Your son dies, Emma. Maybe not physically, but neither of us would ever be able to walk through this world and feel like we're really living ever again. Are you so completely selfish that you would condemn us to that?"

Emma winced, the edge of the sink pressing into her abdomen painfully as Regina forced more of her weight against her, holding her in place. "You know," she began, voice scratchy and distorted by the emotions she was trying to desperately suppress in favor of a subject change. "If you wanted to top me, Regina, we could have just done this in bed."

Regina twisted her hand in the blonde's hair violently before pulling her back so hard against her chest that it made Emma suck in a sharp breath. "This isn't some damn game," Regina hissed into her ear, sounding as though she were a second away from crying, yet trying to keep anger as her dominant emotion. "Do you even care what you're doing to those of us that love you?"

Emma clenched her jaw, trying to turn her head away from the reflection that seemed to be taunting her in the mirror, but Regina wouldn't let her. "It's not like I fucking get off on it or anything," Emma snapped, furious that the woman had her in a position she actually couldn't get out of. But then again, perhaps a part of her didn't want to. She was so damn tired of running away from herself, running away from the world that she lived in, and the sorrow her actions had created had exhausted her to the point where she really felt like she didn't care about anything anymore.

And she hated living that way.

Regina was going to say something, but when she opened her mouth, no sound came out. Furrowing her eyebrows, Emma looked at the woman's reflection in the mirror to see what the problem was, and when she did, her stomach dropped to the ground. Regina wasn't looking at her anymore; she was looking at the scattered contents that used to lie on her sink.

In an instant Emma was released and practically pushed to the side as Regina bent down, grabbing the empty bottle of mouthwash that Emma had stupidly not thrown out. The blonde paled as Regina practically shoved it against her chest, forcing Emma's back against the far wall. "What the hell have you done?!"

"What are you talking about?" Emma stammered, although she knew she sounded as unconvincing as she was sure she looked. "Why the hell are you throwing trash at me?"

"This was nearly full!" Regina practically shrieked at her, the tone of it making Emma noticeably wince. Regina grabbed the bottle back from her, only to basically whip it at Emma's head. The blonde had to duck for it to only barely miss her. "How can you even stand to look at yourself when you've sunk this low? You couldn't even wait a few fucking hours for a drink?! You—Jesus, you drank mouthwash, Emma! Mouthwash! What the hell is wrong with you?!"

"I didn't drink—!"

"Don't lie to me!" Regina shouted, pure fury in her eyes as she grabbed the nearest thing to her – a hairbrush – and pelted it towards the woman in front of her. Emma didn't really have time to react to it, but Regina's aim was off and she missed, the plastic colliding heavily with the wall.

Still, Emma instinctively ducked before scurrying as far away as she could get from the enraged woman before her. "For fuck's sake, stop throwing shit at me! I'm sorry, okay?! I didn't want to deal with talking to you sober, and you didn't have anything else!"

"You…?" Regina tried, yet words failed her as she looked at Emma like she couldn't believe what she was seeing in front of her. The look made Emma feel absolutely disgusted with herself and she turned away from her, unable to meet her gaze as her cheeks burned with shame. God, this was going from bad to worse and Emma couldn't even get away from it. Regina was still blocking the door, and she was pretty sure that the brunette had absolutely no intention of moving any time soon.

A long silence enveloped the room, threatening to crush the sanity from Emma's mind until Regina finally spoke two short, demanding words.

"You're done."

Emma blinked. "What?"

"You're finished!" Regina shouted, the force of her voice nearly making Emma jump out of her skin. She looked crazed; her anger and upset molded into one uncontrollable emotion, and Regina looked as though if she had her powers on this side of the line, she would set the entire bathroom on fire. "Look at what you've become, Emma! I'm not letting you do this to yourself; I can't—I can't fucking stand here and watch you kill yourself anymore! I tried—God, I tried to just let you figure this out on your own, but after that? I didn't—I never thought you could be so bad off, and I will not—fuck, you're just… you are through with drinking, Emma; I don't care what it is that you want anymore! I don't!"

Emma's expression darkened, furious that Regina felt that she could just dictate what she could or couldn't do in her life. "You can't just—!"

But Emma's words died in her throat as she watched Regina transform from this furious being to this crumpled, lifeless form as her emotions got the better of her and tears of frustration, tears of sorrow, and tears of fear began to fall from her eyes. Choking back a sob, Regina covered her face with her hand as she slumped against the wall, looking as though she felt completely helpless and didn't know what to do about it anymore. The sight of it shattered Emma into a million pieces as guilt overtook her, knowing that she was the sole reason for how broken the once fierce and powerful Queen now looked.

"Shit, Regina, don't—you don't need to cry about it…" she tried, but it seemed her words only managed to enrage the woman who had now slumped to the ground against the wall, knees pulled tightly to her chest as an unintelligible sound fell from her lips. Emma didn't know what it was this time, but whatever Regina had just grabbed got chucked heavily in her direction, and the blonde nearly fell into the bathtub as she tried to dodge it.

"Damnit, I said stop throwing things at me!"

Regina's eyes flashed, the look seeming incredibly dangerous despite being outlined by a tear-stained face, and something else came hurling in Emma's direction.

"Ow, fuck!" Emma shouted, as this time the object had actually hit her. But Regina barely even noticed, she just grabbed something else, apparently intending to keep throwing shit at her until she did what she said, and so Emma shouted, "Alright, alright!" as she held up her hands in surrender, backing away from her until she watched Regina drop whatever it was that she was holding. After it clanged against the hard flooring, Emma took in the object and winced; a curling iron. That would have hurt.

"Regina… Regina, come on," she tried, dropping to her knees before the other woman so she could get at her eyelevel. "Please stop crying." She reached out for her, but Regina furiously slapped her hand away, shooting her a glare that threatened to vanquish her on the spot.

"Don't touch me."

Emma's fingers curled into her palm, hesitating for a moment before ultimately withdrawing. She didn't want to upset her any more than she already had, as the sight of how defeated Regina looked actually kind of frightened her.

Regina's head was in her hand, the weight of it being supported by her elbow atop her knee, and her fingers were digging into her scalp like she was trying to claw out every single emotion she ever had, because she just couldn't deal with it anymore. Regina had always been this fierce being; her sadness, her fear, her doubt, had always been channeled into an unwavering anger that could, according to the stories, bring entire kingdoms to their knees. Now though, her sorrow had cut too deep, her fear had grown too large, and for the first time since Emma had met her, Regina really looked like she didn't know what to do anymore.

When the curse broke, Regina had fallen apart, desperate to fix what she had destroyed. But this, this was all Emma's doing, and it seemed Regina didn't know how to go about putting the pieces back together when she wasn't the one who had shattered it in the first place.

The look on the brunette's face cut through her. Emma couldn't just see how much Regina loved her, feared for her, but she felt it as well; it crept into her veins like a sickness and ate her from the inside out, rotting her resolve and her pride as she realized, despite everything that had happened, despite how angry she was at Regina for everything that she had done, she did not want to be the cause of her distress. Not in this way, not like this.

"You're going to die," Regina told her after a few long moments of silence. Her voice was hoarse, broken. Fingers twisting violently within dark tresses, she breathed out her sorrow. "If you keep doing this to yourself, you're going to die. What you're doing, what you did… it's not just the beginning anymore. You're running out of time before you'll realize that you can no longer turn around and find your way back again, and you know it."

Emma felt her throat tighten as the truth in that consumed her, causing fresh tears to bristle behind her eyes. They went unnoticed though, Regina unable to even look at her as she stared at the far wall, eyes glassy and unfocused as she lay trapped inside her own fearful mind.

"It doesn't matter," Regina continued, her voice hollow, as though she was speaking more at her rather than to her, "if you never want to be with me again. It doesn't matter if we spend the rest of our lives on opposite sides of the world, or if you decide the only way you'll ever be able to function is to punish me for the rest of your life. I don't care what you want, where we go, what you decide to do with me or to me. Just don't—don't die."

Emma bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to draw blood as her vision blurred and her body sank the rest of the way to the ground. Everything within her, all of it, had dissipated, leaving her feeling exhausted and useless as she practically fell into the woman beside her on the floor.

"Don't—that's fucked up," Emma breathed, unable to wrap her head around how sacrificial Regina sounded, just for the sake of her. She closed her eyes, unable to handle the harsh glare of the bathroom light atop the depressive air that had surrounded the room. Leaning her head on Regina's shoulder, she told her softly, "It's not your fault. Don't—fuck, don't punish yourself like it is. We can't just swap misery and hope that fixes everything. That doesn't even make sense."

"Oh, I know," Regina responded, her voice sounding like a faint echo as she instinctively cradled Emma's head with her hand. It was protective, it was comforting, and Emma sunk into the feeling. "I know it's not my fault, dear. I may have opened the door, but it was you who fell through it."

Her fingers curled in Emma's hair, and the woman next to her moved closer, the self-hatred that resided within her begging for someone to eradicate it with love. And Regina, she bursted with it. She loved Emma so much that she didn't even know what to do with herself anymore, and yet she kept trying. Devastated, helpless, and falling apart herself, Regina kept trying, and Emma knew that she would until her voice gave out and the words stopped coming. She loved her, and so it didn't matter in that moment that Regina had destroyed what could have been a happy childhood, that she had killed a countless number of people under the banner of revenge, because right then, it was the only thing that Emma needed, and therefore, it was the only thing she felt.

And so she clung to it.

Burying her face in Regina's neck, Emma blocked out the world as she practically clambered on top of her. It was probably infantile and terribly pathetic, but it made her feel protected, and, if there was one person in this entire world that would tear the very fabric of reality to keep her safe, it was Regina. The woman wrapped her arms around her, clinging to her just as tightly as Emma was to her, tucking the blonde's head beneath her chin and hushing her softly as the Savior began to cry. Silently at first, and then louder as Emma realized, with a blinding clarity and a resonating sense of fear, that she didn't want to do this anymore.

She just didn't know how to stop.

"Regina," Emma breathed, the name sounding choked amidst her distress. She grasped for her, holding the fabric of her shirt tightly in her hands, as though she were afraid that if she finally stopped pretending that everything was okay, that Regina would leave her crying and alone atop the cheap linoleum flooring. "I don't want to hate myself anymore…"

The admission was small, almost childlike.

Emma felt soft lips press against her forehead, and the faint drop of a tear landing on her skin. "Tell me what you need me to do, love," Regina whispered, the words tracing patterns on her temple. "And I'll do it without thought."

"Because you love me…?"

It was such a small sounding, stupid little question given the circumstances, and yet for some reason, Emma needed to hear it be said. She had felt so terribly alone, so consumed with anger and hatred and fear that it suffocated her, and Regina, despite being the cause of so much of it, was still, at the end of the day, the only one who would ever be able to allow her to breathe again.

Emma could feel her smile against her skin, yet she knew it was born from sadness and from loss, more than the happiness they should have felt for finding their other half. "Until the stars burn out and the sky falls from above us," Regina breathed, the intensity of the words sounding almost overly dramatic, if not for the fact that Emma knew with a blinding clarity that they were truer than anything else she had ever heard. "I will always love you, Emma Swan; until the end of my life and then some. That, my dear, is my curse."

Emma trapped her bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard enough to feel the sharp sting of pain and then the copper taste of blood. She choked back a sob, hating everything that their life had become. Where was their happily ever after? Why was it that everyone else seemed to get one, but not them? Emma had waited her whole life to feel connected to someone, to feel like she belonged somewhere, and yet there, in Regina's embrace, she realized that where she belonged was just as miserable as where she did not.

Still, she was tired of it. She had fallen too far, drowned in so much, yet in the end, she was fearful of her own agony suffocating the life out of her. She didn't want to be this person anymore.

And so, two little words, breaking beneath the weight they entailed, were uttered to the one person who would gladly drown in her place. "Help me."

Regina inhaled a sharp breath, her fingers tightening in Emma's hair protectively.

"Okay."

TBC…