By nightfall they were nearing the village they were nearing the village they had stayed at two long days ago. The thick forest on the West side of the mountain meant it would be easier to simply retrace their steps to the cave, climbing up and then around the landmark.
Emma sat behind Regina again, a decision made silently as Snow had watched her closely. It made her uncomfortable, made that guilt surge anew. But she didn't know why, exactly. Was it because she was with Regina, and Snow had figured it out? Or was it still hurt from Emma's reluctance to discuss her plans about going back?
Regina looked over her shoulder, and her forehead wrinkled in question. "Is everything alright?"
Emma had stilled behind her undoubtedly, her mind drifting to the woman riding up ahead. "Yeah, just thinking." Her hands rested almost naturally around Regina's waist, still unsure in their new boundaries, but more comfortable than she'd been. The passion that had existed between them earlier hadn't disappeared, but it had been tempered by their time together—the itch temporarily scratched—and Emma felt her cheeks flush as Regina added a bit of a tilt to her hips, her lips pursing as she suppressed a smirk.
"That's just cruel," Emma said teasingly, but squeezed her thigh to soothe the words.
"Are you having doubts?" Regina asked carefully, her words even. "About going back to New York?"
Emma shrugged. "I guess a little," she said unthinking, and furrowed her brows when Regina shifted away from her. "I mean about leaving Mary Margaret, David, everyone. I don't know," she finished lamely.
Regina hummed quietly in response, and Emma felt her body stiffen in frustration. It wasn't that she expected Regina to assuage her doubts, but it still was a bit disappointing that she didn't. It wasn't like that was who Regina was, though, she wasn't someone who would coddle and comfort and soothe at every turn. Hell, Emma didn't want that, even if she was.
Still, it made her think about what it was she was getting into with the woman pressed back against her. Made her think of all the things she didn't know. Regina had spent so long wearing a mask that Emma was still only just learning about the truth of the woman, sorting her from stories and memories.
So what would a relationship with her be like? Would she be supportive? Accommodating? Needy?
Doubt started to choke her, fear of going into the unknown with Regina, and her hand fell from Regina's waist. There was a reason Emma didn't do relationships, and this was it.
Regina cleared her throat, and looked over her shoulder. "Would you tell me something about him?" she asked, gesturing with her head toward Henry. "Something of what it was like for him this past year?"
Emma smiled tightly and nodded, her attention still focused a bit on her heavy thoughts. "Hmm, let me see," she murmured. "He joined the basketball team," she shrugged, and Regina looked over her shoulder in shock. "I know, came out of nowhere."
"Our son enjoys basketball," she said in disbelief. "How is he?"
Emma bit her lip, leaning forward to whisper, "Terrible. But I've cheered him on at every game."
Regina smiled softly, and patted Emma's hand on her waist. "Thank you. For that, and for taking care of him. For being the type of person I could trust with him, implicitly." Emma's throat thickened, and she nodded. "I had my doubts over this past year, but you should know that I never truly worried for him. Not with you."
Emma's smile faltered, and she said, "I'm sorry you missed out on him for a year, Regina."
"I'm sorry you missed out on him for ten," she said, looking ahead, but glancing over her shoulder.
Emma suddenly wished they were face to face, not hidden from each other like this. But at the same time it made it easier, gave them a buffer of sorts from the hard truths they were exposing minute by minute.
"I didn't," Emma said softly. "Even though I know they're not real anymore, those years I got with Henry, they mean the world to me. They are the greatest gift I've ever been given," she sighed, and Regina's hair slipped from her ear, blocking her face.
"I wasn't selfless, Emma," she confessed, her voice small. "I left his almost completely intact, except where I needed to make changes."
Emma's brows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"It hurt too much, giving him a life in which we were never together. A life I wouldn't know." Realization started to dawn on her, the pieces starting to click. Emma knowing how to soothe her son's kicking, the memory of a pet fish Regina had mentioned in passing, cooking his favorite breakfast, letting him win at Chutes and Ladders, countless activities and behaviors she had memories of doing but would never in a million years have done unprompted.
Regina had left Henry's memories, but replaced his mother. The false memories she'd happily accepted were something better, something infinitely more intimate; Regina had shared her past with Emma. The one thing she had with Henry that Emma did not.
"Oh my God," she whispered, unable to process the magnitude of the gesture.
"Like I said, it wasn't selfless, Emma. I did it so that I could keep a part of him, and him a part of me. And it wasn't like I had a lot of time to plan. To make intricate memories that would teach you all the things I needed you to know, to be the best mother you could be to him. Could you cook, for example? What if I had sent you off with fresh memories of your life and no idea how to make a simple meal for Henry, how to help him with homework, or soothe him at night." She was rambling, defensive, and Emma leaned forward, pressed a kiss against the back of her head without much thought.
"It was perfect," she murmured, and she could hear Regina swallow back her response.
"Oh," she said lamely, and Emma bit back her smile.
"Is that the reason he doesn't call me mom? To keep it to yourself?" she asked curiously. Regina didn't answer for a moment, and Emma reached out, tucked her hair back behind her ear so she could see the blush staining her cheeks. "It's OK," she said, holding her a bit closer. "I get it. It kinda works perfectly, now, too."
They could see the village in the distance, lights breaking through the dark of the sky. Talking about the day of the second curse was a bit difficult, still, Emma's thoughts not completely organized. But one thing kept niggling at her, that she'd realized that first night, when she'd gotten her memories back: Regina had taken away her worst ones.
Biting her lip, she tried to keep from asking, not sure she wanted to broach the subject now, but also not willing to wait on it. "Regina?" She hummed. "I have to ask you something. Maybe tell you something, I don't know." She stiffened, but nodded. "The night I got my memories back…I realized something.
"You hadn't just given me new memories. You had taken some away." Emma could feel Regina's stomach clench beneath her hand, and she felt her shoulders drop in disappointment at the guilt she was exhibiting, but she couldn't pinpoint why. Was it because she had done it on purpose? Or that she hadn't?
After a long moment, Regina said, "I wasn't very specific when I cast that curse, Emma. I didn't have much time. Some of my instructions were rather general."
Emma waited for her to continue, but when Regina didn't, she said, "They were bad memories, Regina. Really bad. Things—" her throat thickened with emotion and she tried to swallow, found herself almost choking as she started to relive it all.
Regina put her hand on Emma's leg, just resting it there to still her words. "I didn't do it for you, Emma," she admitted, her voice low. "Not consciously. I wanted Henry to have the best life he could with you, wanted him to have you, fully."
Emma furrowed her brows. "He did, I've never loved him any less—"
Regina shook her head. "I know. That is, I suppose I should have known that," she corrected herself. "I know how grief, and memory can haunt you. Can hold you back from letting yourself—" she cut herself off, gripping the reins tight as she took her hand from her leg.
"I didn't plan for the curse to erase your memories, Emma. Not those ones. It wasn't that intricate of a decision. I simply cast it, with the intention that any obstacle that would keep you back from creating a happy life with Henry, would be removed.
"We've never talked about it, of course, but I knew that there were circumstances, deeper issues that led to your decision to give Henry away. And I cast it so that those problems would be dampened, it seems."
Emma clenched her jaw, conflicted. Because she understood that what Regina had done had been for their son, but on the other hand, removing those issues had not only been tampering with her mind in a way Emma had not wanted, but it had meant getting it all back; having a shitty past only to be slapped with a reminder of it being even worse.
But it had also meant she had an entire year of not remembering some of it. Of getting a fresh start, and Emma wondered if that had been what Regina wanted with the first curse, all those years ago. If she had recognized the issues in Emma, their prevalence in her choices because she could relate.
Emma breathed out, and tightened her grip on the woman before her. Emma may have her fair share of issues—normal, real world issues that made the idea of a relationship difficult—but it seemed that maybe, Regina did, too.
That maybe, this could work.
"I don't know about you guys," Emma groaned, helping Regina guide Henry across a narrow ledge, "but I am so past ready to be done with all this walking and riding and everything." While riding with Regina certainly had its advantages, Emma was pretty sure her tailbone was cracked from the constant motion, and her feet were already sore from their trek up the rocky stone path.
"Try doing it for a year, and then we'll talk," Regina smirked.
They were close to the cave, the curves of the path becoming more and more familiar, and Emma found herself getting nervous. Snow hadn't tried to talk to her about what was going to happen when they freed Merlin, hadn't tried to talk to her at all.
Even though she didn't want to talk to her about it, she found herself slowing, hanging back when they got to a safe stretch of path and falling in step with Snow. "Hey," she said.
"Emma," Snow nodded.
Emma tried not to roll her eyes at the curt response. So her mother would make her work for this, then. "You know I have to take Henry back, right? This world isn't safe for him."
Snow looked over at her, confused. "Of course I do, Emma."
"And you're not…disappointed?" Snow tilted her head, stopping, and reached out to take her daughter by the shoulders.
"Of course not, Emma. You're a good mother. And you're right, this world isn't safe for him."
Emma breathed out, relieved, but also saddened. She had thought Snow's silence had been born from her anger at Emma leaving, but she was calm, understanding. A small hurt flared in Emma's chest that her mother wasn't upset to lose her again. "Oh," was all she said.
They began walking again, and Emma murmured, "You'll tell David I'm sorry?"
"What?" Snow looked at her, confused. "Why?"
"Because I'm leaving," Emma prompted. "Because I won't be saying goodbye to him," she said sadly.
"Oh, we're not letting you go without us, Emma." Her brows shot up. "We've lost you twice now; your father has lost you three times. No matter what happens, no matter where we go, we are not leaving you. I told you, I won't lose you again."
Emma smiled, softly, and the pressure that had been weighing on her ebbed, her chest expanded and she felt free. They would start over, in New York—just her and her family.
"It's just up here," Regina said over her shoulder to them, and as they rounded a familiar curve, the cave came into view.
It was just as they'd left it; the empty side open, torch burning between, and the stone seal back in place. Emma stepped forward, in front of Merlin's cave, and asked, "So how do we do this?" as she slipped her pack off and dropped it to the ground, the rest of the group doing the same.
Regina quirked a brow, coming to stand beside her as Snow lifted the torch from the wall. Henry stood between them, and Emma slipped an arm over his shoulder, smiling down at him. "Got any ideas, kid?" she asked.
Shrugging, he said, "I guess you just hit it?" It was simple, inelegant, and she suppressed a snort at the thought of the woman beside her wielding a sword.
"Worth a shot," Emma said, and stepped forward with Regina, unsheathing her sword as Regina did the same. She hadn't been able to look at it since they got it from Nimue, but it truly was Clarent's twin, save for two small details: where Emma's sword read Clarent in flowing letters on the guard, Regina's read Caliburn, and instead of the pommel being encrusted with diamonds, small flecks of onyx—as had been on Nimue's gown—were embedded in her's.
Emma lifted her sword, watching as Regina did the same. When Regina looked over at Emma, she couldn't help but toss Regina's words back at her, quirking a brow and asking, "Do you even know how to use that thing?"
Regina smirked alluringly, and Emma swallowed, trying to focus. "On the count of three," she said, raising her weapon with both hands. "One," she felt Regina look over, mirroring her movements. "Two," she breathed out, closing her eyes. "Three," she swung the blade and watched in fear as it struck the rock.
A resounding crack went out, and Emma felt her heart stop as the stone face shattered, chunks of rock falling in a pile before her feet. Looking up, Emma turned toward Regina, whose face was pulled in surprise, looking at the sword in her hand.
"I can't believe that worked," Regina murmured, and Emma sheathed her sword, leaning down to pull rocks out of the way to clear a path. Regina let her weapon fall to the ground, and Henry crouched down to help them as Snow held the light over head.
When the rock was cleared, Emma stood, and walked forward toward the cave. She hesitated at the edge until she felt Regina stand behind her, but before she could walk into the dark enclosure, she caught sight of a figure walking out.
Merlin stumbled over the stone, looking frail as Snow reached out to help him over. "Thank you," he said silkily, smiling at her. "It seems you were able to find my Twin Blades after all."
"Did you know we were the ones that could carry them?" Emma asked.
"Of course," he said in mock offense. "Have I not mentioned I can see the future?"
"Well it didn't stop you from ending up in there," Emma shot back, a little irritated from the long walk and the snarky response. Regina put her hand on Emma's forearm and she calmed a bit. But there was still something she didn't like about it all. Something that made her nervous.
Merlin's face darkened as he looked over at Emma, but his eyes slid to Regina, his lips twitching as he said to her, "Well the future gets hazy when people mess about with the natural order of things," he said.
Emma's hand fell to her sword as she swallowed, her gut growing tense. "So, uh, now that we let you out you'll stop the wraith?" she asked, slipping her hand into Regina's. She wasn't sure what she was going to do, but she was pretty sure it was going to involve magic.
"I told you I would, didn't I?" he asked, eyebrow raised. "And you wish to be sent back to your world, with your son, Henry?" Merlin looked over at him, his head tilting in interest. "My, he seems like a rather special boy. Powerful, I'd wager," he smiled, slow, and turned to walk around in the half circle their bodies created.
Merlin came to rest in front of Emma, Henry standing a few feet away from Regina's side, and she clenched her jaw. "I'd rather you not put ideas in his head, he'll think he's some kind of hero," she said in a guarded smirk, fingers flexing against Regina's.
"I've seen that before," Henry said, voice shaking a bit, and Emma looked over to where he was pointing, at Merlin's chest.
Merlin turned toward Henry quickly, and Emma caught sight of something gold shimmering between the fabric of his jacket. "Henry?" Emma asked.
"Perhaps I was wrong about such power in a boy," Merlin said dismissively, and turned to walk past them.
"The medallion. I saw a picture of it in the library, with the stuff you had about the wraith," Henry said frantically, looking over at his mothers.
Emma felt her blood run cold, and she looked to Merlin quickly, feeling power pulse between her and Regina as the man parted his lips in a sneer. Pulling on the chain around his neck, he revealed the Dark One's wraith medallion, the one that Rumple had used to brand Regina back in Storybrooke.
"Observant boy," he hissed, and held out a hand, aiming at Henry and Emma pulled Clarent from its sheath quickly.
"No!" Regina cried, wrapping her arms around Henry as Merlin shot them back into the cave with a blast, Regina disappearing into the dark along with Henry.
Before Emma could even draw her sword she and Snow were being thrown back the same, the moonlight illuminating the entrance of the cave from where they landed inside. "You people think it all revolves around you, blind to the rest of this world," he said with a sneer, the stone seal of the cave starting to piece itself back together. "It only seems fitting you should be trapped in the dark as I was because of you," he smiled cruelly as the last of their light filtered out.
"Emma?" Snow asked frantically, the only light in the cave coming from the flickering torch on the ground where it must have landed in the blast.
"I'm fine," she said waving her off and turning to her son, against the fall wall on the ground. "Henry?" Emma asked, her voice cracking. He didn't say anything, his body low to the ground and Emma panicked. "Henry?!"
"Ma," he said weakly, as she scrambled over to him. "But mom's not moving," a sob caught in his throat as he looked up at her, lost. Snow came to sit beside them the light illuminating Regina's unmoving form on the cave floor. "She hit the wall, ma. She hit it protecting me and—"
Emma swallowed, her whole body trembling as she reached out and felt for Regina's neck. Please oh please oh please oh please.
"She's got a pulse," she said, falling back on her heels as she brushed the hair away from Regina's face, her body lying on its side awkwardly. "Regina?" Emma asked, leaning down closer to the woman she was rapidly coming to care deeply for. "Regina, please," her voice cracked again.
There was no response.