"I don't get it," Henry said after Emma and Regina had confessed the truth, and after he'd allowed Regina to mend his crushed elbow. By now, there were all on the floor in a triangle; Henry's head had stopped spinning and the world around him was still, focused. Regina crossed her legs and shimmied her skirt as low as it could go, but not enough for Emma to stop staring.

"I know this must be confusing for you, dear, but I promise you that it's the truth," Henry's other mother said, the one who truly raised him.

"She's right," Emma agreed. "The only reason you don't remember is because of the curse."

"But you just said she switched our memories," the boy mumbled.

"She did, but only because of the curse. Kid," Emma slid closer, "your mom just wanted to protect you."

And you, Regina said to herself, wishing she could say it to Emma. The pure look of horror in Henry's eyes was enough for Regina to regret not taking her own heart when she had the courage. If she did it now, it would only send Henry into an irreversible state of shock; it wouldn't help matters at all. "Henry, what if I can prove it to you?" Regina summoned The Book from his old room and held it out to her son. But the sudden use of magic only made him cower further. "It's all right, you see? It won't hurt you… Neither will I."

At Emma's encouragement, Henry set the heavy object on his lap and opened to the first page. "Once upon a time…" he read out loud.

"If you'd like, you can read it upstairs… in your room," Regina said heavily; a dizzying spell threatened to rip her away from reality. The looming presence of Henry's utter terror was preventing him from taking anything Regina said seriously, and she knew it; she felt in her entire being, as if she'd been dunked into a pool of scalding hot water.

"It's ok, Henry," Emma affirmed, equally as cautious. "I'll be right here." She clambered to her feet and gave Henry a hand, while Regina oozed with jealousy at the gesture.

Henry carried The Book close to his chest, thinking it would fall if he loosened his grip at all. He took the staircase one step at a time and let his body act as the navigator; he curved around the rail, making sure not to trip on his untied shoelaces, until he made it all the way to the second floor. It was obvious which one was his room, but he waited a few seconds before going in.

"Do you think he believes us?"

Regina grimaced, more to herself than to Emma. "I don't know." It was a rarity for the Queen to ever admit that she didn't have all of the answers, which only fed Emma's astonishment.

"Look, I know there's a lot going on right now, and I know we should be working on this 'case,' but we need to talk," Emma said. "We need to figure out what's going on with us."

"'Us?'" Regina scoffed in distaste. "I'm afraid you're mistaken, Emma. There is no 'us' to discuss." She started walking towards the den, away from the blonde, but Emma wasn't giving up so easily. Henry was protected his room, in Regina's home; the Savior could relax, if only for a minute.

"That's a load of bull and you know it!" Emma asserted, planted in the doorway.

Regina was pouring a glass of whisky, but only one. If Emma wanted some, she'd have to get it for herself. "We not having this conversation."

"Too late, too bad," the sheriff huffed. With a fresh surge of adrenaline giving Emma life, she all but jumped over the couch to get to Regina, who was concentrating on her beverage. "You don't want to be together; fine. But how long do you think we can go without telling people how the curse broke? It's not gonna stay a secret forever."

"That's rich, coming from you," Regina sneered. "For someone who prides their self on catching others in a lie, you've told your fair share, have you not?"

"This isn't just some lie, Regina. We're not teenagers, ok? We're adults; we've got to deal with this like adults!" Emma took the glass out of the brunette's hand and slammed it on the table behind her; drops of the bronze liquids splattered over the wood. She cornered the Queen, pressed her up against the bookshelves. "Tell me that you don't feel anything between us, and I'll go back to just being the sheriff. Look me in the eyes and tell me that there's nothing here— don't even think about lying."

Trapped under Emma's alluring green spheres, Regina almost lost track of where she was. It'd been a while since she'd been so close to someone, and it meant something. When she advanced on Robin earlier, there weren't fireworks or sparks— not like there were with Emma. Her legs didn't tremble when Robin talked to her— not like they did with Emma. And her heart didn't flutter when Robin said her name— not like it did with Emma. But, things were different now. Everything had changed: Henry was back, but not really. Regina was engaged to the man with the lion tattoo and had memories of, but with whom she felt like a stranger. And the Wicked Witch was in town with a vendetta against Regina. There was no way she and Emma could make it work— whatever "it" was.

"I don't feel anything for you," Regina said steadily. Those six words sent an electric shock through her entire body, causing her knees to lock and her neck to tense up. Biting back the excruciating pain, stuffing it into a box the size of a needle, Regina jutted her chin out and conjured the last bit of magic she had the energy for; in order to lie perfectly, she needed some help. "Do you hear me? I don't feel anything for you."

Emma searched Regina's face, ready to call her out. But there was something weird; she couldn't tell whether Regina was being honest or not. The Queen stood as still as a statue, her shoulders pushed back, her spine stiffened, and her jaw set. When she spoke, her voice was strong and decisive, not shaky and ambivalent. She was so sure she would catch Regina's deceit, but Emma kept coming up with nothing. Regina was telling her the truth.

The Savior's expression went from optimistic to pessimistic faster than the Flash. She stuck her hands in her back pockets and created a mask so convincing, Regina had to go with it. "All right," she said evenly.

As much as Regina wanted to hurl a fireball at the wall and scream until she could scream no more, her forehead creased and let her back curve naturally. "Please, you have to understand—"

"I get it," Emma cut her off. "It's fine."

"Let me explain—"

"You don't have to."

The blonde picked up Regina's drink and gave it back to her, rearranging everything and everyone just how she found it. When Regina accepted the glass, she saw something on Emma's wrist and peered down at the ink. "You have a tattoo?"

The artwork on her arm was of little relevance to Emma, and it was clear from her drowsy expression that she didn't care. "Yeah, why?"

"A flower? I never imagined the Savior would be fond of a symbol like that," Regina tried to tease. But the room was riddled with hopelessness and disappointment, there was no way a clown would laugh. Emma was already trying to leave when Regina bit the bullet again. "Can I ask what it is? What type of flower I mean."

Before she was completely absent from view, Emma, facing away from Regina, mostly to hide her swelling eyes. "A lyon."

Henry was on the edge of the bed when Emma walked by, fully immersed in the storybook. He flipped through the delicate pages, memorized the pictures, and moved onto the next one. The stories themselves were so well-known, Henry didn't even bother to read them. He was more taken with the hand drawn illustrations. Every character he saw, every outline of a face was familiar.

"Kid," Emma tapped the door, soft enough not to startle him again. She let herself in and took the spot beside her son, who failed to acknowledged her entrance.

"Is this for real? You're really…"

"Prince Charming and Snow White's kid? Yeah, I am," the mother sighed.

Henry continued turning from story to story as he verbalized the millions of thoughts all crowding his brain. "And Mr. Nolan and Ms. Blanchard, they're…"

"My parents, your grandparents," Emma recited.

"And the mayor's…"

"The Evil Queen— was the Evil Queen." The wound was still fresh in Emma's chest, and yet, she still defended the woman. No matter what had just been expressed, Emma was sure that Regina was no longer evil. Her own affections for the mayor had nothing to do with whether or not she was good. "Henry, I know this is crazy. I mean, it's pretty freaking insane. But believe it or not, you were the one who convinced me the first time… you believed even when the town didn't… even when I didn't."

"I did?" For some reason, Henry stopped at the story about Rumplestiltskin and his son Baelfire. It was as if it was inviting him to read further, calling his name.

Emma leaned over, checked where Henry had landed, pointed to the drawing of the boy with curly brown hair. "That's your father," she said, swamped in nostalgia. "Neal."

Henry grazed his fingers against the page, as if he were expecting it to speak to him. "Did he… did I know him?"

"Yeah, Kid, you did. Not for a while, but… Here's the thing," Emma put her hand over Henry's, a reminder that he was still awake— that this wasn't a dream. "Henry—"

"Don't lie to me… please. I don't want any more lies," the teenager breathed.

The last time she'd witnessed Henry so stoic was the day they'd left. He didn't shed any tears for his family, because he knew that Emma would find them again. He acted as a grown-up, mature, confident. It's how he looked when he said goodbye to Regina. And in that moment, Emma saw the Henry who had sacrificed himself with the apple turnover and given his heart in Neverland; she saw the man and the hero he was transforming into. "No more lies," she finally said.

"Swan!" a booming man shouted through the home. Heavy footsteps came barging up the staircase and through the hall, accompanied by shallow panting. Hook slammed open the door and loomed over the mother and son, bearing with him a grim demeanor. He stood against the wooden frame, his lips parted and curled just so. Regina slithered into the room sideways, narrowly avoiding Hook's trembling body. She was as clueless as Emma was. As much as he hated to raise alarm with Henry present, Hook was left with no other option. "Something's happened… It's Baelfire."

"Emma, wait!" David caught his daughter in a bear hug and held her back, away from the busy doctors and nurses. Between the beeping heart monitor, chatter from the professionals, and the unconscious man on the hospital bed, Emma was stronger than her father and tore free from her restraints. She knocked down the glass door and tumble into several nurses unapologetically, full of dread and hating the suspense. Her cheeks were moist with the tears that had been falling since the moment Hook told her, freely trickling and dribbling down her chin. Emma had never driven faster than when she heard the news; she never had the need to.

Dr. Whale stood over his patient, his palms flat over Neal's heart, giving the man chest compressions. The computer hanging over the bed started to ring and a solid line flashed across the screen. Whale ordered the electric paddles and everyone stepped away as he placed them on Neal's bare chest; the metal pieces buzzed and zapped him at such a high frequency, Emma's own core vibrated. Everything was a blur for her; it was as if everyone else were on fast forward, except for herself and Neal. The only sound that kept her alert was the alarm on the monitor; she knew before Whale did. The determined doctor gave it another try, and another one, and another one. But the lively, redness to Neal's face was nowhere to be found. His lips were already turning blue and his chest stayed still… Neal was gone.

With her parents holding each other in the hall, and Hook watching helplessly from the window, Emma lifted her feet and shuffled towards the man she had once been head-over-heels in love with; the man she had always, and will always, care for. It was like déja vu to Henry, seeing the father of her child as motionless and peaceful as if he were asleep. Without her consent, Emma's knuckles caressed Neal's forehead: he was cold to the touch. She wanted to rock the thief she'd met back in Tallahassee all those years ago, tell him that he was going to be ok. She wanted him to smile at her and see all of his laugh lines around his mouth, the way his teeth bared only for her. But most of all, Emma wanted just wanted him back with her— right then, and right now. Neal just needed to open his eyes for her… for Henry.

When he didn't, when Neal failed to comply to Emma's wishes, she backed away from his vessel, shoved through the nurses once more, and stumbled out of the room straight into her parent's arms.

"So… you're really my mom, huh?" Henry asked from the dining room table. Emma had left him in Regina's care; there was no one she trusted him more with. Still captivated by The Book, Henry left it open at Regina's story— the one about the Evil Queen.

Mindful not to blast Henry with too much information too quickly, Regina had brought him downstairs and declared that she was going to make his favorite meal. While he sat, dumbfounded, she flitted around the kitchen cooking like she'd never cooked before. "One of them, yes," she told him.

"And- and you have magic?"

"I do," Regina admitted. "Though, I try not to use it unless it's an emergency. Magic— it always comes with a price." She combed through the drawers and pulled out plates and cups, napkins and silverware, all for Henry; she was still jittery from her talk with Emma and she tried not to think too much about the blonde's tattoo. She let her mind wander, just not to Emma. There were more pressing matters to attend to. Whatever was going on with rest of the group, it couldn't have been good. She'd never seen Hook so serious in all of the time that they'd been acquainted. "Henry," she said as she strained the pasta, "if you have any questions, it's all right to ask. I'm sure you're a bit curious right now."

Henry was somewhere in-between completely sold and still requiring more proof. Like Emma always told him, "Believing something doesn't make it true." Slamming The Book shut, Henry was out of his chair and leaning over the counter with his arms folded over the granite surface. "What's my favorite color?"

Somewhat taken aback by Henry's bold interrogation, Regina went on preparing his food. "Red," she replied easily.

"What's my favorite movie?"

"Transformers."

"Which one?"

"The second one," Regina recalled. She poured a bowl of marinara sauce and set it in the microwave with a plate over the top, and set the time for 45 seconds, not wanting Henry's spaghetti to be cold. She untied her apron and folded it neatly in its drawer, ready for another question.

"What's my favorite comic book?"

"Fantastic Four, the one with the shiny gentleman on the surfboard."

Henry concentrated on other bits of trivia he could use, but it wasn't easy. "How did I get the scar on my knee?"

Regina let a soft chuckle slip through and in a way, it soothed some of Henry's nerves. "That, my dear, is what happens when you ride your bike without any safety pads— no matter how many times I told you the rules."

"And how many stitches did I get?"

"Six," Regina responded promptly. The timer on for the sauce honked at the chef and begged her to remove it from mouth of the dragon. "Now, is there anything else you'd like to know?"

"If you're the Evil Queen, does that mean you killed anyone?" Henry inquired somberly. Regina dropped the porcelain plate and the glass exploded on the floor, red spaghetti dressing landed on the cupboard doors and on their shoes. The brunette dropped to her knees and worked to mop up the slush, but her hands wouldn't stop trembling. The towel kept slipping out of her grasp and Regina felt as if a vacuum were sucking her whole— as though she were shrinking into nothingness. Then, Henry knelt down and touched her wrist gently, no longer afraid of her. "I know you're not evil," he said.

"How is that?" Regina couldn't look at her son in the eyes if she were Rumplestiltskin and someone had the dagger. Instead, she focused on the spilled tomato goop.

Henry took the dishrag and proceeded to wipe the mess for the woman, like a good little helper. "Because you did what my mom almost did— or did do: you gave me my best chance."

"What happened?" Emma asked without any proper time to grieve. It hadn't even been an hour since she'd watched Neal pass away, and here she was in Savior Mode. Hook had made very few comments as the rest of the population around him continued on with their day.

"We don't know," David said truthfully. "Some of Robin Hood's Men brought him in. They said they found him in the woods. He was barely awake when they got here."

"What else?" Emma wanted all of the details, every last bit of information. It was if she were suddenly starving for every little clue, every piece of knowledge they had. "Was he alone? Did he remember anything? Was he hurt?"

"We don't know," David repeated, well aware of how frustrating it was.

"That's not good enough!" Emma cried and pounded her hands against the wall. Her sore throat and swollen eyes all made for a deadly cocktail of vengeance.

The elevator doors opened just then and Belle stepped onto the floor, craning her neck to locate the signs that would lead her in the right direction. When she saw Snow's pixie-cut, she had a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, which only intensified when she watched David embrace the blonde. "Snow?" Her thick, elegant accent permeated through each letter, making it impossible not to recognize. The black-haired woman merely shook her head; Belle spotted Neal in the room across from them, pale and lifeless. What was left of Belle's world came crashing down around her with just one look at her lover's son.

"Zelena," Emma snarled suddenly, slipping out of David's arms yet again. "Where is she?"

"Zelena? Why?"

Emma seethed at her mother, uncontrollable resentment towards her flooded her veins. "Because she's the Wicked Witch!" she snapped. "She did this!"

"What? No, that's— that can't be true," Snow denied incredulously. "She's a midwife!"

"No, she's not," Belle piped. "Emma's right; she tricked us into bringing Rumple back."

Too fast for anyone to catch her, Emma pinned Belle against the door to Neal's room and shook her by her collar. "What did you do?!"

Too distraught to fight back, Belle let Emma tackle her. It didn't last long, however, before David managed to peel the sheriff off of the citizen. "We were trying to resurrect him, we had instructions… But the witch… Neal didn't know…"

"Know what?!" Emma was wrestling against her own dad, all but kicking him to let her go. Her golden curls fell over her face as she thrashed recklessly, like a pit bull who's leash was being tightened.

Belle sniffled several times, doing her best not to let her own emotions get in the way. "In order to bring Rumple back," she inhaled slowly, "Neal had to give his own life."

Having just been thrown overboard, Hook wielded his blade and slashed it through the air. "Are we just going to stand here, or are we going to find this damn witch?!" He was ready for a fight; it'd been too long since he'd gotten to draw blood. He was going to make the Wicked Witch, or whatever the hell she was, pay for what taking away the only shred of family he had— however estranged he and Neal had been.

David let go of Emma, thinking she'd gained composure. But, he soon realized his mistake when she immediately grabbed her gun and checked the amount of bullets she had left: there three rounds, but she only needed one. "Emma, wait, think about you're doing," Snow pleaded. "Think about Henry."

"He's all I ever think about," her daughter grunted as she rammed the magazine back into its home.

"Emma," David put himself in front of the Savior. She moved to skirt around him, but he was faster. "Stop."

"Get out of my way!"

"We can figure this out together, before anyone else gets hurt," the Prince reasoned. He used all of his six foot, one inch stature as a human traffic cone, thwarting Emma's every attempt to flee.

"It's too late," Emma stated fearlessly. Belle was turned away, shuddering as she shed a tear for Neal, riddled with guilt. If she'd only told them sooner, if she had warned them, maybe they could have saved him. The Savior hurled herself at David as if she were trying to break down a door, but he stayed planted in front of her, as though his feet were cemented to the floor. "I swear to God if you don't move—"

"You won't do anything," David said knowingly.

"She may not, but I bloody will," Hook limped forward. He raised his pointed weapon as if it were enough to intimate the royal, but it was going to take more than that.

David snatched the gun away from the blonde without any trouble. In her wave of mourning, her coordination and reaction time weren't up to their usual levels. "Emma, stop! Think about Henry! Really think! His father just died, he needs to hear it from you. Not us, not Regina— you. Your son needs you."

While David, Belle, and a coerced Hook went looking for Gold, and Snow was in the protection of Ruby and Granny, Emma drove back to the mayor's mansion in her rusting Volkswagen. She'd been tormenting herself the entire drive, racking what was left of her conscious for a way to deliver the tragic news. It wasn't as if there was a manual for this sort of thing; how do you tell your kid that the father he doesn't remember has died? How do you explain to him that the Wicked Witch killed him? Emma had done this once before, after Tamara had shot Neal, but this was different— this time, he was really gone.

When Emma pulled up to the white structure, she put her vehicle in park and turned off the engine, but she sat in the Bug for a while before going inside. With the window rolled down, Emma rested her head against the leather seat and closed her eyes; she listened to the light drizzle that sprinkled onto the smooth concrete and never cringed when drops landed on her nose, the rustle of the leaves as the wind blew through them, and for a moment, Emma could swear she heard Neal's hearty guffaw. Even when he wasn't with her, she could picture him so clearly, it was as if he was still there; the way his salt and pepper curled at the top and his matching beard, his brown eyes twinkling as the corners of his mouth spread to his ears, the worry lines in his forehead, it was all fresh in her memory.

After some minutes flew by, Emma opened her door and heaved herself out of the driver's seat. She had to summon every ounce of vitality that she had left in her to stand up and not collapse. From outside, she could see through the window into the dining room; Henry and Regina were sitting across from each other, gaily engaging in carefree dialogue. Henry tossed his head back and Emma watched his shoulders shake with laughter. Regina even cracked a smile, and Emma knew how uncommon that was for the mayor. They looked so happy together, so at ease with one another's company. Emma felt like the bad guy in the situation, the one to crash the party.

Without a key to the house, Emma rang the doorbell once and and listened as the cheerful chimes rang through the large home. The door hadn't even opened yet, and a lump the size of a pingpong ball lodged itself in her esophagus. She could still breath, but just barely.

Regina appeared before the Savior and instantly sensed Emma's sorrow. She noted the quiver in the blonde's chin, but it didn't last very long. The mayor gestured for the sheriff to come inside, all the while observing Emma's deliberate movements. Regina was suddenly consumed with the urge to take Emma into her arms and cradle her, though she thought better of it.

"Henry?" Emma approached her son from behind. With every inch that she gained, with every step she took, the Savior received a million more punches to the gut as she braced herself for the inevitable.

"Hey, Mom. I've been thinking and, well, I believe you about— Mom?" Henry saw Emma's pink nose and drowsy expression and knew that she'd been crying. "What's wrong?"

Unsure of where to go, Regina leaned against the doorway with her legs crossed and her hands clasped behind her back. It was as though she had to stay there. She had to hear what the woman was going to say.

Emma Swan gave her son the weakest smile she had ever given anyone and knit her eyebrows together. She didn't care to pull up a chair next to him; she just squatted low and touched Henry's knees, staring deep into his eyes— his inquisitive green eyes. "Henry," she started, already choking up, "I know there's still a lot we haven't told you, a lot that won't make sense." Just say it! she ordered herself. "I'm sorry, Henry…"

"Mom, you're freaking me out," the boy said as he examined Emma's body language. "What's going on?"

Emma glanced over at Regina for help, but the Queen had no idea as to what was happening. No one had called her to let her know. So, she turned back to Henry and blinked rapidly, letting her tears escape. "Your dad, he… he's gone."

As if Regina's sympathy for the woman couldn't have increased any more, her face softened as she processed Emma's confession. Henry, on the other hand, was in a dazed state. "What?"

Emma felt as hallow as the Echo Cave and having to repeat it only carved out more of her soul. "Neal died, Henry." Something clicked inside of her as she said that, as if it was finally true. Saying those words out loud, for everyone to hear, slapped Emma across the face as she realized Neal was never coming back. Still struggling to understand, Henry bowed his head. "You should know that he loved you so much. You were everything to him, Henry, you hear me? Even if you don't remember him, he was good to you; he was a good father."

"I know," the young hero mumbled sheepishly. "I… can feel it."

Unable to even think without crying, Emma engulfed Henry in her arms and refused to let go. David was right about one thing: Henry did need his mother— both Emma and Regina. But he'd been wrong about another: Emma needed Henry just as much, if not more.

No one would have guessed that one person who could ever truly understood Emma and her bereavement was standing not five feet away from her, imprisoned by her own pride and timidity. The only woman who knew what Emma was experiencing, who had been in her position before, was watching the blonde and her son comfort each other the way she wished she could comfort them; Regina Mills was that woman.

The rest of the day went on as if it were being pursued by a dark, stormy cloud. Every move that Emma made, every word that left her mouth, and every time she looked at her son, she felt as if the entire world were fighting against her. Nothing she said or did seemed like the right thing and every decision she'd made up until now had been made with the town's best interests in mind. And still, after everything she'd worked to accomplish only resulted in death and more pain. Nothing was making sense anymore.

The fraction of their team had been unable to locate any sign of Gold. They checked the farm house again, every single store and business on Main Street, the clock tower, even the Jolly Roger. There was no trace of him, other than the golden lengths of straw they'd found the day before. Belle was positive that he was back, as she remembered him reappearing to her and Neal in the forest. But here in Storybrooke, the Dark One had somehow gone undetectable.

Because everyone knew who the witch was, Zelena was keeping her distance. Her cover was blown, by whom, she didn't know. All that she knew was that the majority of her plan had been foiled. Her anonymity had been crushed and while many of the residents wanted her destroyed, she was fairly certain none of them had the courage to do so— especially "Prince Charming." As a result, Zelena used her own magic put a protection charm around her campground, where she was also holding the Dark One hostage with his dagger. Now that she'd returned the wizard to his former glory, he did her bidding without protesting. Rumplestiltskin was her secret weapon. And all it'd taken was ordering him to kill his own son. Pity.

Emma and Henry stayed inside for the remainder of the evening. Regina gave them the space she thought they needed, while Emma told Henry the entire truth: why they really came back to Storybrooke, who they were after, who else was in their "little" family, and how important it was that he didn't go out on his own. The aging boy listened intently and clung to everything Emma said, his legs tucked beneath him like a child. He never interrupted or asked questions; all he did was listen.

When ten o'clock hit the mayor's mansion, Emma and Regina were in agreement that it was time for Henry to go to bed. Considering there were more than four bedrooms, there was no pressure for him to sleep in his old living quarters if he wasn't comfortable. But, to both of the mothers' surprise, Henry decided he wanted to try the room that he'd grown up in. Neither Emma or Regina argued his choice, took turns saying goodnight, and let him drift to sleep on his own.

"Emma," Regina whispered through the dimly lit corridor. "You're… welcome to stay here as well. You don't have to go back to the Inn. I… I'm sure Henry would like to wake up knowing that you're just down the hall." What she really wanted to say was, "Please don't go, I want to take care of you both and see you in the morning and be there for you." Of course, Regina kept that to herself. The drained Savior used the rail of the staircase as a crutch and let all of her weight fall onto the cherrywood banister. After her roller coaster of a day, Emma had nothing left in her. She was just a vacant sack of bones, too exhausted to think in complete sentences. "I am sorry about Neal, Emma," Regina added at the end, having let some seconds tick by.

"Are you? You never liked the guy, you don't have to pretend like you did," Emma grumbled dolefully.

Regina dropped her gaze to the white carpeting in shame. "It's true that I was not his biggest fan, but that doesn't mean I take any joy in his passing." A thin veil of resentment was sewn into her sentiments, annoyed that anyone would think she'd find pleasure in such an event. On opposite ends of the hall, it felt as if she and Emma were an entire universe apart. In all honesty, though, they could have been centimeters away from one another, and it still would have been too far. "Emma," the Queen said quietly, "you've been through quite the ordeal today. "I— Henry would want you to be safe."

"And you think here's safe?" Emma challenged weakly.

Regina could tell Emma wanted to get into a row; she knew the feeling. She knew what it was like to want make everyone and everything the enemy. "I do, yes," the brunette said. In a moment of courage, Regina approached the figure daringly until she was close enough to see the shadows beneath Emma's eyes and the tear stains on the blonde's shirt, but not so close that she could feel her breathing. Without thinking about it, Regina took Emma's hand, lead her to an empty room, and helped her onto the mattress. At the the mayor's act of kindness, the sheriff released everything that she'd been holding in the past few hours. Her body convulsed wildly as she sobbed herself into hyperventilation. "Emma, breathe," Regina instructed as she took the seat next to her. "You have to breathe." She touched Emma's wrist and a shock was sent through each other's system, one they couldn't deny. The Savior rocketed herself at the Queen and smashed her lips against her host's in a frenzy. "Emma, stop," the brunette panted as she pushed the blonde off of her.

"Please," Emma pleaded through gulps of air. "Please."

Even in the dark room, Regina could see the agony reflected in Emma's eyes. She sensed the urgency with which the woman had acted upon, and while she couldn't completely object to the advances, Regina knew Emma wasn't in the right state of mind to make such a decision. Saying nothing, she stood up, guided the aching woman's head to the pillow, and pulled the covers over the weeping victim. However, Regina didn't leave immediately. No, she sat on the ottoman by Emma's bedside and held into her hand. That's how Emma fell asleep that night and that's when Regina realized that she was truly in-love with the Savior.

A/N - Hello, dearies! I know a lot of Oncers are still mourning the loss of Neal. While many people knew it was going to be him, I find it hard to deny that it was a rather poignant send-off. MRJ did a sublime job, as did JMo and Bobby. Anyway, I do hope this chapter was to your liking. I know that in the episode, Emma was the one to separate Neal & Gold, however, my reasons for changing it up will be explain in the next update. Emma's magic was an important piece of the scene, and I didn't want to detract from it. I hope that you all will understand and see how it ends up. Thanks again for all the follows/reviews/favorites! I'm glad that so many of you are reading and enjoying this! More to come soon!