Ive been getting a lot of requests to continue this (magic balm for the muse, those kind reviews and PM's! Thank you so much!) I think this story will be around 5 chapters long, if it doesnt run away with me again ;) Hope you will enjoy the update. A little more angst this time around (Remember, Regina's defenses are down!)

A confused Emma Swan entering her house and demanding answers is not something Regina Mills is unfamiliar with. But will she be able to handle it without her usual snarky defense?

Chapter 1:

'Emma, what a nice surprise!'

Oh for the sake of Hell!

Without the tone she had perfected in many years bending to her will, the sentence had come out genuine… Not at all how Regina had meant it, of course.

Right?

The emerald eyes before hers lit up and the woman smiled that smile again. The smile that had made her utter those unbidden words before. The smile that did something strange to the pit of her stomach.

'Do you want to…'

Great, now she KNEW for a fact she was going crazy.

The insecure but inviting gesture she made, went against every law Regina's body naturally abided to, and she felt her muscles strain to fight the movement.

Surprise again flickered in the green, but the woman stepped passed her, without even a moment of doubt. It must be nice, Regina thought, to carry one's confidence with such ease. For her, it had always been a struggle, until the moment she had found the habit so engraved, the groove so deep, there was no other way to stand, to speak. No way to not come across as if she did not have a care in the world.

The price she paid for that, however, the loneliness that chilled her, the hatred and loathing of those at the receiving end of her harsh attitude, was not one she saw, now, pressed on the Sheriff's shoulders.

No, she had the confidence of a knight, of a hero, of someone who knew herself and stood by what she believed in. And that was something Regina had never known.

How had the blonde managed to do that, after everything that must have happened in her life?

How could she be, allow herself to be, so loved, and at the same time, so giving?

Emma followed the path that lead to the kitchen, automatically it seemed. It gave Regina an odd, aching feeling in the pit of her stomach, where all her emotions seemed to gather. If she didn't know any better she would call it yearning. It felt like her heart bled…

Had her loneliness finally managed to drive her insane?

Maybe that would explain her inability to communicate properly?

'Can I get you anything? I haven't made lunch yet but…'

Emma wheeled around to face her, her eyes now filled with an incredulous fire. The strangest thing, however, was the flash of disappointed hurt combined with cautious fear she saw in the turquoise.

'What are you playing at, Regina?'

Hoarse and hurt were the words drifting to her and she almost stumbled upon their impact.

'Wh… I… What do you mean?'

'Did you talk to Henry?'

'I? Sorry dear, what?'

It had been the tone in which Emma had asked the last question, urgently, demanding, and maybe it was the pain of its answer that made her stall the answer. The insecurity, that came with, somehow, not being able to protect her vulnurability the way she was used to, was quickly crumbling her.

'Did Henry come and talk to you, about that phonecall?'

Her hands were shaking now, the pain that flooded over her. She wanted to break something, wanted to throw a fireball at someone, wanted to, violently, Magic the blonde out of her house and into a dumpster, wanted say hurtful, hurtful things.

Instead, she turned around, hiding the trembling hands from view.

'I think you know perfectly well…'

The words got stuck in her throat and she tried again.

' He hasn't… He doesn't…'

Her voice broke, in an awful, quivery manner, and the sob that raged through her was unforgiving in its intensity. The absence of her son in her life had left a dull ache that sprang to life every time something triggered it. A comic-book in the supermarket, a toy left between the cushions on the couch, a glimpse from across the street.

And now it felt raw on Regina's skin, clawed up her throat as she tried to hide the tears streaming down her face from the woman who had taken him from her. Who she'd like to accuse of taking him from her. Because if she had been enough, if he had truly loved her, trusted her… Like Hansel and Gretel had their father, like Owen had his. If she had truly been his mother, it wouldn't have been possible to take him.

'Regina?'

The sheriff's voice sounded alarmed and came from far, far away.

She had never been enough, she knew. She couldn't even get her own mother to love her. Hadn't been able to grant the king the heir (and herself the child) he's wanted. She had failed at everything she had ever attempted in her life, from running away with her true love to redeeming herself. And it hurt… It hurt so incredibly much.

'Regina!?'

'What the hell is happening to me?'

Exasperated, hoarse and desperate was the sound of her voice, a sound she couldn't remember ever hearing before.

'I don't know… I really… I don't know…'

Emma's tone almost matched her own when the woman approached her, the earlier confidence nowhere in sight.

She wanted to scream, to lash out, to send that excruciating, terrible, gorgeous, amazing woman out of her house. She couldn't stand her proximity, couldn't stand her kindness, couldn't stand her understanding.

And most of all, she couldn't stand those warm, soft arms, that wrapped around her. She hated it, the way her cheek found the crook of Emma's neck, the way the rapid heartbeat soothed her, the way the hands, stroking her back, made her feel protected.

She hated the fact that she needed them, all those things she tried to tell herself she despised.

But the hated the most the treacherous organ in her chest, which couldn't be convinced to believe her mind's lies.

***…***

Earlier that week:

'Henry! We don't have an appointment do we?'

Dr Hopper's hoarse voice sounded surprised, but open when the boy wiggled past him and darted off to the dog that lay in the corner of the office.

'Hi Pongo! How is your foot? I brought you a snack!'

As he looked over to the dog's owner for permission, Archie found himself unable to do anything else than smile and shrug his approval.

Pongo loved Henry, his tail had already moved in enthusiasm since the moment the boy had entered and Dr Hopper sat down, patiently awaiting for Henry to disclose the real reason of his visit.

'He likes me again!'

The child's laughter filled the room when Pongo licked his face in gratitude for the dog-biscuit he had just received and Archie couldn't help but smile again, knowing instantly what Henry was referring to.

'He always liked you, Henry, he was just… He was in pain. I'm sure this is his way of telling you he is sorry.'

He watched them play a little longer, the expression on the boy's face telling him there was more he wished to discuss. They had spent many an hour in this very room, talking, and Archie knew they had formed a rare friendship, almost close to the one he had formed with another young boy many decades ago. He saw the struggle etched in the boy's features, but experience told him to wait.

'Does it work that way with humans too? When they are not in pain anymore they will want to make it up to you?'

Archie set up, his interest peaked.

'Maybe you should tell me what is on your mind?'

'It's my mom…'

It took him about 20 minutes to tell the story, complete with Emma's analogy with the thorn in Pongo's paw and Archie just sat there and listened to his young troubled friend, thinking of ways to help him. To help him understand the woman he so obviously loved.

Archie, carefully, spoke then, as a silence fell. He told Henry about when how, when someone loves another person, they give them the power to hurt them, even if that wasn't their intention. He gave examples and asked and answered questions, time flying by as the conversation never stopped flowing. When he started to explain things about protecting your own heart, and being so hurt it could make you afraid to let people in, about attacking those who could hurt you the most, those you love the most, he saw the question linger in the hazel eyes.

'But if you don't let anyone in, no-one will be able to heal it either. Right?'

And then, Archie knew the boy had understood and he beamed with pride.

'You see that very well, Henry. But sometimes, once a person is IN a situation, it's hard for them to see the things clearly. All they feel is the hurt and all they try is not to feel that anymore. Can you understand that?'

The boy nodded, slowly, his eyes narrowing in his eagerness to comprehend his adoptive mother's situation. With a sudden movement, Henry grabbed his backpack, startling the psychologist as well as his canine friend in his eagerness.

'Sorry!'

He blurted out the word as he saw their response, but the bright smile never left his face.

'What…?'

But before Archie could finish his question, Henry had already slid past him, thanking him in the process with a tight hug around the waist.

'Thank you, Dr Hopper! Operation Tweezers is going to work, I just know it will!'

And, like the whirlwind he was, the boy stormed off, leaving Dr Hopper wondering what in the name of the gods he had gotten himself into now.

...

TBC

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