When Emma woke up the next morning, she was sure that she had a hangover. Every limb and muscle was deadweight, her eyes were puffy, her head was throbbing, and her throat was sandpaper. She used her core to help sit up, but even moving at a snail's pace, the walls of her room rotated around her. Blinding light cut through the faux wooden shades and were aimed for Emma's eyes; she covered her face with the blanket that she had no memory of wrapping herself in. Come to think of it, this bedroom wasn't very familiar either. Emma glanced down at her clothes and realized that somehow, she'd been put into flannel pajamas and that her hair had been put into a ponytail.
The delirious Savior flung the sheets off of her lower body, pushed past the pulsating in her mind the brief flash of nausea, and landed on the floor like a cat. She staggered to her feet and grabbed at the nightstand for stability; she waited until her vision cleared and for the ground beneath her to find stillness before groping her way to the closed door.
The very moment she entered the hallway, the scent of hazelnut coffee rose up the staircase and danced in Emma's direction. By the spotless carpet, the impeccably shining picture frames, and the antique-looking vases, Emma found herself drowning in images of the night before: talking to a solemn Henry, tucking him into bed, her standoff with Regina… lunging at the brunette. Emma clapped a hand over her forehead and exhaled loudly, like a balloon losing its helium.
She spun in a circle, like a dog chasing its tail, until her gaze fell upon Henry's room. With his door cracked open, she caught a peek of her son contentedly snoozing away. He'd gotten so tall over the last year, his feet reached the end of his bed, but he didn't seem to care. A bed was a bed.
It was not without great hesitation that Emma stalked along the wall to see Regina's quarters. The mayor's door was open, like the boy's, but there was no one in there. Her cream-colored sheets were stretched firmly across the mattress, hidden beneath the custard-yellow comforter. There was not a piece of clothing out a place, a hair on a pillow, or a wrinkle in the blanket. Even in her boggled mist, Emma wasn't surprised.
Slinking back to her room— or, the one she'd slept in— Emma jumped into the clothes from the day before, retied her ponytail into a disheveled bun, and carried her shoes with her down the stairwell. Her leather coat was hanging right where she'd left it before settling in the for the night: on edge of the banister.
As she slid into her boots, Emma noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. A purple suit and dark, brown hair came sauntering towards her while she hastily tied the laces. "I never would have pegged you as an early bird," said Regina, a flutter already starting up in her chest.
"Yeah, well, there's a lot you don't know about me," Emma snarked, bent over at the waist.
Regina chalked up the woman's sarcasm to her grief and let it slide. "I thought we had an agreement: Henry would want to—"
"Save the lecture, will ya? You're not my mother."
The husky-toned woman crossed her arms over her chest and zoomed in on Emma. "And just where are you planning to go?"
"Where do you think?" the blonde shot back, zipping up her jacket.
"Considering that we don't know where she's maintaing her residence, it couldn't be to see Zelena." Regina never took her eyes off of the sheriff, noting every slight roll of the shoulder and pursing of the lips. Emma was a movie that she couldn't stop watching— one that should be nominated for an Oscar. Yanking on her beanie and tucking in every stray hair, Emma jammed her hands into her gloves and felt for her gun. "Emma," Regina breathed. In hopes of calming the woman's manic state, the mayor tenderly reached for Emma's wrist, but Emma cowered away— mostly out of sheer mortification. "I know you've been through a lot, but I really don't think—"
"Stay with Henry," the Savior croaked, the heavy metal weighing down on more than just her hand.
"What do you expect me to tell our son? You don't expect me to lie to him when he explicitly stated that he doesn't want any more dishonesty."
"Tell him whatever you want," Emma dismissed. "He doesn't need to know where I'm going." As she moved for the door, Regina pulled a David and planted herself in the middle of the blonde and the handle. She wasn't as strong as the Prince or as tall, but she did have magic. Knowing full well she didn't have it in her to actually use it on Emma, Regina relied solely on her authority. "Regina, please," the curly-haired hero muttered.
Regina let her hands fall to her waist and rested them upon her hips, challenging Emma. "By all means, go and traipse around the town with no regard for your own safety. If that's what you would like to do, then you should do it. But, I'll be damned if Henry wakes up and doesn't know where you are, and I am certainly not going to be the one to tell him he's lost a mother too. Are we clear?"
With her head hanging to one side, like a bored teenager, Emma acted as though Regina's rebuking meant nothing. Adjusting her grip on her pistol, the sheriff grasped the bronze doorknob. "Crystal." Just like that, Emma made the choice to leave the mayor's home where it was safe— where she was safe. She strutted down the walkway, making long, purposeful strides into the street; the thin wisps on her neck stood up as a freezing blast of wind sailed over her pale skin, but all she did was walk faster.
From the doorway, Regina watched Emma stroll further and further away, deeper into the heart of Storybrooke. The combination of pride and unease mixed together and sent a shiver down Regina's spine; pride in Emma's courageousness, and unease at Regina's own inability to stop the Savior.
"They're going to kill you, Zelena. There's no escaping it," the Dark One warned over a whining bonfire. His back was against a hard tree trunk, chained there by Zelena. Dawn was just breaking over the horizon; an ominous red-orange glow radiated from the rising sun and spread over the forest like a blanket, cutting through the tree limbs and hitting the ground like a spotlight. Birds sang in their twiggy nests and squirrels foraged for fresh nuts. Gold's ability to keep track of time had wavered since the Witch first imprisoned him. All he knew was that she'd captured him after his resurrection, uncovered his dagger, and most importantly, was the reason his son was dead. If Zelena wasn't in possession of his life source, he would have destroyed her ages ago.
Glossy-eyed and smiling sinisterly, Zelena merely cackled over the dying flames. After all these months, she found it entertaining that Rumplestiltskin still thought it would be that easy— getting rid of her, that is. The wicked woman gingerly pulled out the silver knife from its sheath and turned upwards slowly, watching the way the reflection of the sky above moved when the blade did. "Only if I don't kill them first," she snickered.
His suit covered in dust and his face lacking a good shave, Gold bit back the plethora of curses he could enact on the woman. Since returning to this world, his limp had returned, as well as the rest of his other human frailties. Even if she didn't have his dagger, he knew he wouldn't have been able to reach the town on foot. Zelena had created such a strong protection charm around their temporary dwellings, even Gold had difficulty breaking it. As if she were trying to appease a pet, the British being fed him twice a day and gave him a blanket to sleep with, but that was it for her nurturing; as long as he was strong enough for a battle, she didn't really care what happened him. "You really think you can win this, do you?" Rumplestiltskin wondered. "You seem to have forgotten, dearie: I taught Regina as well. She knows everything you do, perhaps even more." Like a flash of lightening, Zelena flew off of her log and grabbed the man by the throat, baring her white teeth. Gold gagged at the lack of oxygen, which only made the woman press harder into his trachea.
"If you don't want any more death by your hands," she hissed, "I'd suggest you keep that rude little mouth of yours shut. Unless, of course, you miss your old ways… Dark One?" Zelena's glower gradually transformed into a wicked smirk as she dug her nails in Gold's flesh. "I'm sure that bookworm of yours is just… dying to see you again." Gold tried to fight against her bony fingers, but Zelena was quicker: she held his metal totem over his eyes and sneered at the weakened wizard. Gold shrank back against a tree and clenched his jaw, presented with no other option. He could feel the cold grip on the hilt of his dagger, the way the blood coursed through her hands and around the haft; it felt dirty, contaminated. Zelena dropped the tip of the blade down to his chest and sneered at the cowardly figure. "That's what I thought."
Emma banged on Hook's door with the butt of her gun and tapped her foot while she waited for him to answer. He was the last person she wanted to ask for help right now, but he was also the only one who was as angry as she was. Whether she liked it or not, Hook was also connected to Neal. Out of everyone, she was sure the pirate would be the best person for the job.
"Swan," the bearded man slurred as the door swung open, clearly having trouble with his balance. Hook dropped his head against the doorframe and grinned at the blonde, his usual trench coat-like layer missing from the rest of his outfit. His shadow was even thicker, darker. There were bags under his blue eyes and where his usual apparatus was screwed in, there was nothing. The man's brown jug hung out of his vest pocket and the lid was missing.
Emma waved a hand over her nose and leaned away from the drunken sailor. "How sober are you?"
"How sober are you?" Hook countered immaturely, breaking into fractured giggles. Without Emma's consent, he pulled her by her belt loops until their foreheads were touching and chuckled idiotically. "There there, love. No need to worry, I'm sure Baelfire would've approved."
He attempted to plant one on the Savior, but Emma wasn't hammered like he was; she swung on him so fast, Hook wasn't even sure what had happened. All that he knew was that his cheek stung— just like the other one had the first time Emma slapped him. "Don't make me do it again," the sheriff requested, fixing her hat.
As if the slap had brought him out of his stupor, Hook shook his head several times and blinked rapidly. "Swan?"
"Get your coat," Emma commanded confidently. "And your sword."
Henry was still asleep when Regina checked on him. Every five minutes for nearly two hours, the anxious mother stuck her head into his room and surveyed his calm form, the way he flipped over onto one side and then the other. His brown hair was flattened against his temples and there was a small pool on his pillow from the drool that slipped down the corner of his mouth. He only stirred a couple of times, never waking up completely. Regina still couldn't believe that her son was really home, let alone that she was staring right at him. For Pan's curse to be broken, she had to say goodbye to Henry, for what she thought would be, the rest of her life. Never in a million years would she ever have anticipated yet another curse to wash over them. Regina supposed, however, that she was rather grateful for Zelena's antics. Had her half-sister not brought them back to Storybrooke, Regina was sure that she never would have gotten her son back.
Not wanting to disturb Henry's peaceful state of being, the mother let the door close behind her and wandered about her large and vacant house. Everything was were it had always been, nothing had been removed or had gone missing in the year that it disappeared. The pictures of Henry still hung on the wall with precisely four inches between them. The coffee tables in the hallway and den were unscathed, as polished as ever. Every book was in its place as far as Regina was concerned, each volume and edition. And every pot, pan, and dish rested comfortably in their designated areas.
As she roamed the various nooks and crannies of her spacious abode, Regina slowly entered a world of memories. When she entered the living room, she saw Henry taking his first steps in his diaper and overalls; his darkening hair just beginning to curl. She could hear his triumphant laughter and see his waving fists as he toddled to the couch. Toys were scattered about the carpet, all various colors and sizes, but none of them with sharp edges.
When she stepped into the kitchen, Regina remembered Henry's first cooking lesson. She was teaching him how to make pancakes. At six years-old, the young child needed a step stool to watch the brunette flip the flapjacks in the pan, his mouth shaped like an O. Regina had folded her apron in half to fit her son and tied it around his waist, but that didn't prevent batter from reaching other spots. Henry had still managed to get flour on the tip of his nose and on the collar of his shirt.
Every room held significance to the mayor and every room made Regina feel things— things she couldn't ignore or push away. When she found herself in the den for a second time, she zeroed in on the half-empty glasses from the afternoon before. Neither Emma or Regina had finished their whiskey, for their meeting had ended on a rather sour note. The brunette lifted one of the cups, sat on the uninhabited couch, crossed her legs, and drank the lukewarm liquid. Who it had belonged to the previous day didn't matter to the woman, as she yearned for that brief relief.
A draft blew in through a cracked window and Regina fixed it with a simple flick of her wrist. This space, too, held meaning for the Queen; however, now it meant something different. As she sat stiffly on the cushion, the drink in her lap, Regina closed her eyes and was transported back to yesterday. Her heart took off on a high speed chase and her knees began to tremble subtlety. Emma was no more than a foot away from her, her breathing heavy and fragmented.
"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." Emma's voice was hit Regina like Beethoven's ninth symphony, something she'd listened to at least once a day during work. At first, she hardly noticed anything. Regina would admit, in the beginning of their relationship, there were times that she had forgotten that Emma was even talking. But then, out of nowhere, the rest of the orchestra joined in and it was music— the most enticing, captivating music Regina had ever heard in her life, resonating through every fiber in her body. The flutes, the violins, the horns, they all blended together seamlessly and suddenly, Regina was lost in whatever Emma was saying. The Queen clung to every vowel and syllable the Savior said, totally and completely mesmerized.
"I don't feel anything for you. Do you hear me? I don't feel anything for you." As soon as Regina heard her words, she was repulsed by her own voice. It was nothing like Beethoven's ninth symphony, but more like his fifth: tragic, uneven, and indignant.
When Regina opened her eyes again, she was still holding onto the small glass, and she was flung back into the world of right now. Henry up in his room, thrust back into the madness of Storybrooke and all of its characters. He'd just lost his father, a man Regina really knew little about. His other mother's own mourning controlled her judgement and she would possibly come back injured, or worse… No, Regina couldn't think about that. She wouldn't. Henry was safe and healthy. Emma would be just fine. There's was nothing else to worry about except… except for Robin Hood.
Regina slid her hand into her coat pocket and pulled out the ruby-red ring that the thief had given her in the Forest. The diamond, shaped like a heart, was more than just a piece of jewelry: it was a symbol. Regina had spent the better half of her existence searching for someone to love her, to need her the way she'd loved and needed Daniel. Henry had been that person. And then, when the curse hit, and they were sent back home, Robin Hood had eventually become that person. The only problem was, Regina didn't love him back… not the way he loved her. The real problem was, Robin wasn't Emma. And Regina had no clue as how she was going to tell him.
Traveling through the cryptically empty woods with a half-sober pirate wasn't exactly how Emma imagined spending her Saturday. Then again, that went for the rest of her life. It had been just under a week since her arrival back to town, and just as it had always been, there was never a dull moment in Storybrooke. In many ways, the last few days didn't seem real. She kept expecting to wake up back in New York with Henry, happily going about their lives. But, alas, what Emma was experiencing was true, whether she liked it or not.
After giving Hook some time to clean up, the two disappeared into the seemingly desolate lot of land. The temperature had dropped to 30-something degrees, cold enough for them to see each other's breath expel from their open mouths. The hat and gloves Emma had put on before leaving the mansion gave her little comfort, as her fingers and ears were frozen and pink. Hook, on the other hand, still with a little alcohol in his system, went about his hike without complaints.
"Swan, I must apologize for my behavior before… it was bad form and that's the one thing I won't tolerate," Hook said, breaking the silence. "What I said is not how I feel. It was wrong for me to use his name like that—"
"Look, there's something you gotta know," Emma blurted, pausing in mid-step. She wondered if her cheeks were as red as she pictured, and she was thankful that she could use the cold as an excuse. "Here's the thing…" Emma debated with whether or not to tell him, if he could really keep it between them. There was no one else she felt that she could talk to, especially not about this. She just needed to let it out; Emma needed to tell someone the truth. "About the curse… I wasn't the only one who broke it… Regina did too."
Hook squinted under the sunlight that sought him out as a target. "I'm not following."
Having lost the sensation in her toes, Emma transferred her weight onto the other foot, praying for the grit to finish. "There's a reason your kiss didn't work before, Hook: you can't try True Love's kiss, when the other person isn't your True Love."
Desperate to read the message behind Emma's words, Hook stared back at her intently, his lips pressed together. "Swan, are you saying that… Regina is… that you two are…?"
"Whatever you're thinking, you're probably right," Emma sighed. "That's why everyone remembers— because of us." Too tired to hold herself up anymore, she dropped onto a dense, wet log and put her elbows on her knees, burying her face in her hands.
The crinkling of frosted leaves told Emma that Hook was moving. The last place she expected him to be was right next to her. "I fear that I've let you down, Swan," the captain uttered plainly.
"Huh?"
Extending his bad leg, Hook took in the swaying branches and flying petals. "A long time ago, I vowed that I would do my best to protect the ones I held dear, though there weren't many. You and Baelfire were once in my care and now, well… he's gone and you weren't given the opportunity to say goodbye. I understand now what it means to put others before yourself." As his sentiments lingered, Hook's yearning for revenge returned with full force, springing the man into air. "Enough of this." He bowed and offered Emma his hand, "M'lady." Skeptically so, she accepted his help and flicked away the tears that had escaped. "Let me promise you this," Hook started, "when we find the Witch, and she is destroyed, you will get your happy ending with whomever you wish. I assure you, Swan, Bae would have wanted you to."
"That's just it, though," Emma said morosely, "neither one of us can ever know for sure what he would have wanted."
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, love," Hook winked. "If there's one thing this place has taught me— correction, if there's one thing you have taught me, Swan, it's that love never needs to be explained. It's right here," he held his hand over his chest. "You just have to feel it."
Curious about Hook's moment of wisdom, Emma asked, "Where's all this coming from? Last I checked, you were ready to fight for my heart."
"Aye, and I still am. The only difference is, now I'm fighting to protect it," said Hook. "And that is one thing I'm sure Bae would approve of."
Ready to cry again, Emma looked up at the dazzling ball of energy and nodded to herself. "Let's go back," she breathed.
"I thought we were hunting for the Witch?" Hook followed Emma's gaze, but he didn't see what she was seeing.
"We are," the blonde affirmed. "But not like this. You're right: I do feel Neal. And right now, he'd want me to be with our son."
When Emma moped down the brick path and up the front steps, she didn't even have to knock or ring the doorbell. The barrier blocking the outside world from inside the mayor's mansion yanked open and Regina was on the other side. Emma didn't walk inside right away; she stayed there for a couple of minutes, opposite Regina and waited. The blonde rocked on her heels, back and forth, with her hands in her back pockets. Her leather jacket was unzipped and her white, knit sweater taunted Regina. Emma's slim, fit torso melded smoothly into her hips and her legs became still. Regina hadn't realized that she'd been staring.
"Well don't just stand there," the brunette chastised. "You'll catch pneumonia." She ushered the sheriff inside and shooed her to the dining room table, already putting a pot of coffee on to simmer. Emma slipped of her gloves and her hat, flinging her tangled curls over and up. "Henry's still sleeping," Regina informed. "I assume this means you didn't find her," she mused, leaning against the counter.
"Yes and no," Emma responded cryptically. Combing through her hair with her fingers, she pulled one of the chairs out and landed onto the piece of furniture. "We got halfway through the woods when Hook said something that made sense— more than I'm used to."
"And that was?"
Bouncing her knee to a beat in her own head, Emma was stricken was shyness. "He knows about the curse, Regina. I told him…"
The Queen peeled herself off of the bar and launched forward. "Told him what?" When Emma bit her bottom lip, Regina suppressed the cry of incredulousness that vibrated in her throat. "You didn't! Emma!"
"He had to know— I had to say something," the blonde defended. "It's not like he's gonna go around and blab to everyone. Anyway, he gets it, somehow." Even if you don't, she added mentally. "Do you wanna know what he said or not?"
The machine brewing their beverages started bubbling and spitting, and Regina waved a hand as she poured their mugs. "Go on," she said, rather disheartened.
"He said... he said that love never needs to be explained or questioned, no matter who you're with. He said all you have to do is feel it, and I felt Neal with us. I felt what he would have wanted. So, we came back." Emma's voice had lowered to a hushed whisper, as if she were talking to herself. In her brief pause, Regina had brought her a magenta glass and Emma let the warmth thaw her fingers. The other woman took the seat next to her, a change from sitting across from her. "You were right earlier," Emma went on, "it's better if we're both here with Henry. He's been through a enough."
"You both have," Regina said.
A few seconds went by, and neither of the women had anything pressing to add. They remained in a daydream-like mindset, quietly sipping their drinks. Eventually, Emma looked down at her tattoo and then to Regina. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Yesterday, when you saw this," Emma held up her wrist, "why'd you act so weird?"
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about," Regina dismissed hastily, getting up to refresh her glass.
Not convinced at all, Emma followed the woman to the sink. "Come on, if you're gonna lie, at least try harder. Really, what was the big deal?"
"Frankly, dear, I don't see how it's any of your business," the brunette remarked coldly.
"Regina," Emma touched the mayor's shoulder, "please? I… I'm really tired of all the lies, ok? Just… tell me… please?"
At first, Regina refused to make eye contact, because she knew that if she did, she wouldn't be able to turn down the Savior. Emma was like a puppy in some respects; telling her no resulted in her face falling and her excited energy vanishing. The blonde's forehead creased as her brow pressed inward and the dimple in her chin became more pronounced. Finally, Regina relented; she hunched forward in surrender and her neck relaxed. "It's a long story," she huffed, slightly miffed at Emma's ability to wear her down.
"I've got time," Emma smiled tiredly.
With a new batch of coffee at her disposal, Regina floated to the table and struggled to begin her story. "Do you remember in Neverland when I told you that Tinker Bell and I had a rough past?" Emma nodded once. "I never told you why, did I?" Emma shook her head. Taking in a long, preparatory breath, Regina rewound almost a century and started. "She once spoke of fairy dust and how far its magic could reach. I'd just married Snow's father and I was… miserable," she said honestly. "I didn't belong there; he knew it, I knew it. My own magic wasn't developed enough to escape, and Snow… well, she wanted what any girl wanted: a mother. Anyway, I told Tinker Bell about everything, including Daniel, and she said that it was possible to find another soul mate."
"Seriously?" Emma asked dubiously, obviously apprehensive.
"Yes. I didn't believe her either," Regina chuckled earnestly. "But, she wanted to try anyway. When we did, it worked, or so we assumed. It lead me to a pub— to a man… with a lion tattoo. Of course, being the fool that I was, I let my own fear steer me away from him."
"Wait, so you didn't even try?" Emma was as absorbed in the tale as any child would be, her eyes wide with wonder, falling even deeper into Regina's memories with every word that she uttered.
"As I said; it was foolish of me. So, I left and I never looked back. I stayed with Snow's father, and, well, you know the rest. However, like all stories, Emma, mine wasn't over just yet. When we were sent back last year, I crossed paths with a man who introduced himself as Robin Hood—"
"The guy who's been following you?" the Savior interjected.
"He won't be for much longer," Regina sighed. "Emma," she set her mug down and inclined forward, "he's the man with the lion tattoo, the one from the pub."
"He's your soul mate?" Emma couldn't have sounded more disappointed if she tried. And it was clear in her body language, the way she shrank in her seat and the way the glow in her green eyes faded.
"As I was meant to believe. I spent the last few months convinced that we were meant to be together, all because fairy dust said it was so. I got to know him, and he got to know me; I revealed things to him that I've never revealed to anyone else before. I learned to trust him, which wasn't easy for me. And his son, Roland," a faint smile crossed over Regina's lips, "he's rambunctious, that's indisputable."
Suddenly frustrated, Emma dropped her palms onto the table with a loud smack. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because, for one, you asked. For another," Regina rested a hand on Emma's knee— the blonde didn't object—, "I finally realize that all of it was false. Emma, I spent the better part of a year telling myself that I had to be with Robin because he had a tattoo; even I know how ridiculous that sounds, and I'll admit, I'm not proud. I knew it then and I know it now. I was wrong. The dust, however, wasn't completely untruthful. It seems to have gotten the tattoo correct… just not the lyon."
As Emma digested Regina's point, she massaged her sore neck and choked back the tears of exhaustion. "Regina, I can't… I can't process things right now, not the way I usually can. My brain feels like it's gonna burst at any second, and I don't… I don't know how much more I can take. I just… I don't know."
Retracting her hand, Regina tucked a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear casually and did a visual sweep of the kitchen. "Emma, you've just experienced something I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, and that's the truth. Losing your first love, well, I know the pain that comes with it. I just want you to know… if and when you want to talk, I'll be here." I've always been here, she thought.
Taking both of their dishes, Regina rinsed them out in the sink while Emma stayed in her spot. She could have easily run out of the room and up the stairs, anywhere to get away from Regina, but she didn't want to. There was something about the brunette's presence that calmed her, made things seem less bleak. She listened as the water rushed out of the nozzle and swirled in the glasses, and she imagined the stream spraying down her own body— the soothing effects of a shower.
The women silently let each other's company serve as conversation. For the time being, they'd both said what they wanted to say. The next step for Regina was finding Robin and letting him know her true feelings. And for Emma, she had to deal with the repercussions of Neal's death, which included some sort of memorial. She wanted Henry to be able to say goodbye to him, even if his father couldn't say it back. Immersed in their own thoughts, the Queen and the Savior had almost forgotten about Zelena. They had no plan, no battle strategy. Emma still didn't know that Regina and Zelena were sisters.
But, it would seem that their own personal problems would have to be put aside at some point. While Regina started lunch, and Emma gazed out lazily through the window, Henry had been listening in on their entire dialogue, his back pressed against the wall. Although there were still a great many things he didn't know about Storybrooke or his family, there was one thing he was absolutely sure about: his mothers loved each other. No matter who they were or what their history had been, they had a connection. While he didn't remember how they used to act towards each other, he felt that they cared about each other, just like he felt Neal's love. Henry had a new mission, one that he was determined to see come to fruition: Operation Happy Ending.
A/N - Hello, dearies! I'll be honest, the only parts of last night's episode I found enjoyable were the fight scene and Emma's constant concern for Regina. I really don't care for OutlawQueen, and while I don't want to see Regina hurt again, I do sort of hope that Robin Hood is working with Zelena... it's the only thing that makes it tolerable. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this update. There will be more to come soon, though I can't say for sure when. Really busy with CC classes. I'll try my best! Thanks for the follows/faves/reviews. As always, feedback is much appreciated!