Emma and Regina snuck out the back door, away from the rush and chaos of the front entrance. It was much quieter this way, a lot easier. This way, they wouldn't have to deal with the incoming patients and all of the other nervous families spread out through the halls and the waiting rooms. Emma and Regina's had enough— enough of pacing up and down the floors, enough of hearing phones ringing and rooms blinking for a nurse, enough of getting looks of pity from everyone that passed by Henry's room. The children's ward had been bad, but in the nearly 13 hours they'd been in the ICU, Emma and Regina were starting to wish they were back on the kid's unit.

As soon as the door closed and she heard the lock click, Regina gasped for air as though she were suffocating. The dense fog engulfed her body and gave her goosebumps as she pressed her palms against her knees and bent forward in the hopes of catching her breath. Her chest constricted tightly and her eyes burned from the lack of sleep. She felt streams of tears falling down her face, but she couldn't stop them. It was too late. She'd been holding them in for far too long.

Emma waited on the sidelines. She knew Regina had to let it out and she knew Regina had to let it out without any interruptions. Even just a comforting hand on the shoulders could throw the brunette off, send her down a spiraling hole into pride and defensiveness. Regina never liked to admit when she needed help; she was stubborn like Emma in that way. But this was more than that. Regina didn't just need help: she needed a friend.

When Emma believed enough time had passed, she cautiously approached Regina, ready to wrap her arms around the woman. But, the very second she stepped forward and opened herself to Regina, the newspaper editor backed away and shook her head frantically, snot running down her nose. "Don't," she choked out in-between hiccups. "Don't touch me," she growled. She held up her index finger as if that were enough to scare Emma.

"Regina, please—"

"No! This- this is your fault! I can't— I can't fffeel anything, Emma!" Regina cried as she gestured her shaking hands to her chest. "I'm losing my mind! And it's all because of you!" she yelped as wiped her nose on her sleeve. Her eyes were starting to turn pink and her chin was dripping with salty teardrops that kept flowing. "My son is laying unconscious in a hospital bed because of you!"

Her arms at her sides, Emma swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat and attempted to reach out for Regina, but again, she was denied. "I don't understand. What are you talking—"

"This!" Regina shouted as she motioned to everything around her. "I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you! My heart wouldn't be breaking every second of every day for a child if it weren't for you! Don't you get it?! I wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for you!" Regina's cheeks were red and her ears couldn't have been any brighter. A little voice in the back of her head told her she was being unreasonable, that she wasn't making any sense. That little voice tried to stop her from saying stuff she would later regret. But, the rest of her brain, the part that made her a mother— it knew exactly what it was doing; it knew exactly which buttons to push.

Unsure of what else to say— what else she could say— Emma only managed to let out a soft, "I'm sorry."

"Stop it!" Regina snapped as she stomped a foot against the hard cement. "I don't want your apology! I don't want your sympathy! I don't want anything from you!"

Emma's lips were pressed together in a thin line, the kind that Regina always formed when she was bracing herself for a fight. But Emma didn't want that. She wasn't ready to engage in a battle; hell, she didn't have any energy left in her to even form a good comeback. Emma was just as defeated as Regina. "What do you want, Gina? Tell me. Tell me so I can figure out a way to—"

"To what? To fix it? To make it better?" Scoffing darkly, Regina flared her nostrils and folded her arms over her chest. "We are adults now, Emma! You can't punch someone and poof, our problems are gone! Real life doesn't work like that!" Burying her face in her hands, Regina gradually looked up with a heavy resignation and pushed her hair out of her face. "I just want my son back," she muttered. "Can you do that? Can you bring Henry back?"


Emma sat on the same bench that she'd escaped to the day that Henry had been admitted. It was just as empty and as cold as she'd remembered it being. Only this time, she wasn't watching the sun rise and Regina wasn't coming to get her. Emma was by herself. Regina had gone back to Henry's room half an hour ago, but Emma had been ready just yet. She needed a moment to collect herself, to think about what Regina had said. She needed a moment to recover.

Her fists were balled so tightly, she'd started to lose sensation. The initial tingling had subsided and numbness had replaced it. People walking in and out of the hospital stared at the forlorn woman on the metal bench and assumed she'd lost someone— that a loved one had just died and she was in shock. It was a reasonable assumption, considering the location. And to be fair, they weren't exactly wrong. Although no one in her family had just died, Emma had lost someone. In fact, she'd lost two people: her son and best friend. And it was just now starting to sink in.

An hour had passed when Emma saw movement out of the corner of her eye. A man in a black motorcycle jacket and dark-wash jeans groaned as he took the seat farthest away from her. Digging his elbows into his knees, he rubbed his hands together as if they were sandpaper against an uneven wooden surface and did his best to make Emma feel at ease. He had to go about this carefully. Any quick movements, and she'd be gone.

"Your mother's still in with Henry," David informed. "She and Regina aren't saying much, but… they're there. So, I guess my question is: why aren't you?"

It was almost as though Emma had been struck by a bolt of lightening, or pummeled by a hammer. As soon as David opened his mouth to speak, as soon as she heard his voice, her body was no longer stuck; she could feel again. The thing that had prevented her from going back inside, the thing that had trapped her, had been destroyed. At least, enough so that she could be a human again. "She- she blames me," Emma stammered, still in a bit of shock. "Regina. She's blames me for this. And she's right."

In a graceful, not-so-sudden movement, David rested a hand on Emma's back. "Em, you know she didn't mean it. This is a stressful time for both of you. I'm sure she's just—"

"She's right," Emma repeated in a hollow tone. "This is my fault. It was my problem, he was my responsibility. I forced her into it. She wasn't ready, I knew she wasn't ready, but I made—"

"No," David said forcefully, shaking his head only once. "Emma, no. You and I both know— we all know you did the right thing. No one blames you for any of this. This is not your fault."

"If I'd just been stronger… If I'd been there for—"

Grabbing hold of Emma's wrists before she could wring her hands, the way she usually did when she had a breakdown, David tugged for her to turn and face him. He needed to know that she saw him, because he saw her and what he saw scared him. She looked as if she hadn't eaten anything in weeks, as if she hadn't slept a wink. She wasn't just tired; she was exhausted.

The very instant that she stared into her dad's brilliant blue eyes, Emma closed her own and started to hyperventilate. Her entire upper body shook as she let her father hold her and comfort her. David rocked his daughter back and forth the same way he had when she was just a teenager, and for a split second, it felt exactly as if she still was one. She sniffled into his jacket and he stroked her long hair; she coughed every now and then and he pat her back gently. He got to do what she rarely let him do these day; he got to be her dad again.

"Listen to me, Emma," David began as he held her face tenderly. "Being a parent is hard. Having a child is hard. Things happen and you say stuff that you don't mean. When you don't know whether your child will survive something, it's hard. But you know what? You never stop being a parent. No matter what happens, no matter what you say or what anyone else says, it. Is not. Over. Do you hear me?"

"But Regina said—"

"I told Mary Margaret it was her fault. When our baby died, I blamed your mother. And she blamed me. But that didn't fix anything. That didn't bring her back." Letting go of Emma, David massaged his neck and gazed out at the wilting flowers planted around the front lawn of the hospital. The day their first born had died, the flowers around the hospital had been freshly planted. David waited and listened as Emma regained control of her breathing and sniffled less often. "Henry is still here and he needs you two. You need each other."

Drying her cheeks, Emma cracked her knuckles and straightened her back. "I don't know what to do. I don't like not knowing what to do."

Chuckling lightly, David smirked at the blonde. "I know, but it's just something you've got to get used to." Glancing down at his watch, the older man whistled at how late it was. "You should get back." He watched the flash the terror in Emma's face and the uncertainty in her green eyes, and he knew she was bracing herself. With a kiss on her forehead, he gave her an assuring nod and said, "Go be a parent."

Almost as if she were being controlled by an outside source, Emma stood tall and set her sights for the automatic doors. Before she knew it, she was in the hospital again. She was only faintly conscious of the fact that she was moving; her legs carried her the familiar route and straight for the elevator. Without thinking about it, she pressed the button with the arrow pointing upwards and she waited. She waited and she paced herself. She counted how long it took for the metal box to arrive and she didn't stop counting until she arrived at Henry's room. Mary Margaret was gone. It was just Regina and Henry.

Standing in the doorway, Emma watched as Regina swept Henry's bangs to the side and pulled the blankets up over his shoulders, just under his chin. She noted the prudence with which Regina moved, almost as though she were afraid to hurt Henry. It reminded Emma of the first time she'd held him. She knew that fear. Lately, it was the only thing she felt.

With her weight against the frame, Emma peered down at her shoes and did her damnedest to ignore the high-pitched beeping from Henry's heart monitor. "I get it," she said. "I never came to for you."

Her focus solely on Henry, Regina replied without turning around. "What?"

Licking her lips, Emma recalled, "When you left with Cora, I promised you that I'd find you. I told you that no matter what happened, someday, I would do whatever it took to get to you." That day was burned into her memory and more than once had that moment in their lives replayed in Emma's mind. When she was in her mid-twenties, Emma had somehow managed to bury the guilt she'd carried with her and tucked it away where she thought it would never escape. But it was always there. It haunted her. Whenever she saw Regina, it was there. "I never came for you… until I did, when I needed help."

Regina refused to turn and look at Emma. With every fiber in her being, she refused. Because she knew that if she did, she'd see that same, hurt expression she'd left Emma with just an hour before. "What does that have to do with anything?" she asked dismissively, as if she truly hadn't made the connection herself.

Putting one foot in front of the other, Emma walked as though she were on a tight-rope and didn't stop until she was at Henry's other side, right across from Regina. The blonde forced herself to take in the various machines and the plastic tube taped to Henry's mouth; she didn't let herself look away. Except for the ventilator, he looked so peaceful, so calm."If I'd kept my promise to you— if I'd fought harder to get to you then maybe… maybe things would be different."

Without missing a beat, Regina said, "You never came for me, Emma. I waited for you. Every day, I waited for something. A phone call. A letter. Some sign that you were you were on your way and that maybe you'd just needed more time. Something. But there was nothing. You never came for me. So I stopped waiting." Finally summoning the courage to do so, she gazed up at the woman opposite of her and said, "You're right. Things would probably be different if you'd found me. I 'probably' wouldn't have Henry and we 'probably' wouldn't be in this situation." Regina saw the way Emma clenched her jaw and tried not to show how much she was hurting. "But then," she started, "I wouldn't have my son. And I wouldn't have learned that the love I have for Henry was even possible— that being a parent is more than… more than what Cora taught me. For that, Emma, I do hold you responsible… and I owe you more than I could ever explain. "

And just like that, Emma's entire body language shifted from rigid and unsure, to relaxed and relieved. She silently accepted Regina's hidden apology, although she didn't think one was necessary. Emma agreed with everything that Regina had said. However, she also agreed with everything that David had said. Finding the balance between the two— well, that was another thing Emma had to work through. But in that moment, she wasn't concerned with who was right and who was wrong. She stayed exactly where she was, holding Henry's other hand. It only seemed fitting to have both of his mothers with him.


It was nearly seven o'clock that evening when Emma strolled through the doors of her old office. She hadn't seen the inside of that dirty building in weeks and as soon as she reentered, it was as if she'd never left. Everything looked exactly as she'd remembered, barring a few extra papers scattered around the place. The scent of re-heated Chinese food wafted through every corner of every room: Mr Gold was still there.

The upstairs lights were turned off. The desks on the first floor were missing employees. The mailboxes looked as if they hadn't been checked in years, and the carpet had several new stains of various colors. Emma wondered where everyone else had gone to, but then again, she didn't exactly care. She wasn't there on a business— not really.

As she stomped through the deserted room with her long curls pulled back in a ponytail, she went over the speech she'd practiced on her trip down here. She'd recited it over and over again in the cab, which gained several curious eyebrow raises from the driver, but nothing she came up with ever felt right. She'd never done anything like this before. All she had to go on was Regina's blessing and years of experience with Mr. Gold and his range of emotions.

Emma followed the sound of Mozart all the way to the door with the name on it. She could just make out a silhouette through the frosted glass. The man was bobbing his head in-time to the music, and fora split second, Emma wondered if she was doing the right thing. She was an awful liar, she knew that, but she didn't have to lie to him exactly. She could just never tell him the truth. So what if it cost her the only stable job she'd ever had. Did Mr. Gold really need to know? All the while she doubted her decision, she kept hearing her father say, "You never stop being a parent." Like a broken record, that was all she could think of.

In the end, Emma's conscience won. And just like at the hospital, her hand acted of its own accord and tapped on wood three times. "Gold? It's me." It was too late to turn back now.

Suddenly, the music cut off and the cringe-worthy sound of metal squeaking leaked through the barrier. "Come in, dearie." Pushing past her urge to gag, the blonde twisted the knob and tiptoed into Mr. Gold's office. He sat in his chair with his feet on his desk and his cane propped against the drawers. His jacket hung on the back of his chair and his red tie was loosened around his neck. He gave Emma an ominous smile that exposed his capped tooth and she did everything she could not to bolt right there and then. "Well, well, well. Look who's returned. You're here to apologize for that… conversation this morning, I hope? Because it just so happens that I'm in one of my good moods and that means—"

"You have a grandson," Emma blurted out. Gold's wide grin dropped immediately. "His name is Henry. He's 11 years-old and in the sixth grade. He's got green eyes and brown hair. He loves comic books and cartoons. He has Neal's smile." Although she was positive that he'd heard her, Emma said it once more to convince herself that she'd actually done it. "You have a grandson."


A/N - Sorry for the wait! I knew what dialogue I wanted to write, but fitting it in was harder than I'd expected. But, it all worked out in the end (maybe?). I hope that you liked this chapter! Thanks for the great feedback so far! Also, for those of you who have asked: this is a SwanQueen story. At some point, their relationship will change. But, as you can see, our favorite characters are going through a bit of a crisis. But I promise, this will not end with them just being friends. And with that... I will return soon! I will say, just in case I don't update as soon as I'd like, the semester ends April 21. After that, I'm free for the summer! So, hopefully I'll update this and "Fool For You" between now and then, but if I don't, please understand. Thanks again!