Cora's thrill-seeking desire isn't quelled easily, and having fun with Cruella, in many facets of the word "fun", thrills her a lot. She's reluctant to give Ursula and Cruella space to talk about what happened before Cruella hit the dirt and ended up in the Underworld. She's even more reluctant to keep her hands off the two-toned haired woman. Apparently Cruella's body is just as incredible as Eva's handmaiden's, if not more so, because the dead villain is, according to Cora, "built for sin."
She shivers in the garden as she sits on a bench and stares up at the artificial moon while actively trying not to think about her mother "sinning" with the other woman, or anyone for that matter. Thankfully, Ursula has a chance to talk to Cruella like she's denying Emma from having the chance to do with her. Unfortunately, since Cruella and her mother snuck into this part of the realm and don't belong, they don't have their own rooms and have to share with people who do belong. If Cruella isn't too upset with Ursula, then the two of them will be staying together and that only leaves Cora to stay with her. It's not ideal. She doesn't want to share a room in Hell with her mother, and definitely not a bed.
But that's exactly what will happen when she leaves the garden and heads back upstairs. Her mother is already in the room and probably making a fuss about how it isn't at all up to her standards. If the woman could complain to some form of management or—even better—the help, she would most likely change everything about the place without pause. It's why Regina's not up in her room right now and instead remains in the garden; because she doesn't dare sit at the bar either, in case Emma walks past and decides to talk to her.
She shouldn't have asked what would happen if she doesn't want to go home. It's absurd to think she doesn't want to go back to Henry because she does. She loves him, but maybe there's something else keeping her here. Maybe there's something else she wants to go home to, aside from her son. Maybe she shouldn't have spoken up at all. She still thinks about what could have happened had she not pushed Emma away. She thinks about how far things would have gone if she'd just pulled the blonde closer instead of throwing her back. She's even dreamed of it before Emma showed up.
She takes a deep breath and releases it in a loud and heavy sigh as she tips her head back. She closes her eyes and feels the breeze against her face, listens to the wind as she sits in a secluded spot between sections of the Underworld—just as absurd a thought as her not wanting to see Henry again—and tries to relax. Ever since Emma came to Storybrooke, her life has been more chaotic than the peace and quiet she'd grown used to during the curse. She hasn't had a moment alone, a moment of solitude, since that eyesore metal coffin drove into her town, until Hell. And now that Emma's here, it's more chaotic than not. Mostly her thoughts and feelings have been further jumbled up by the blonde's presence, but there's not much else that's really Emma's fault. She certainly would never blame Emma for her mother's strange and unexpected arrival, not to mention all the disastrous things Cora takes pleasure in while she makes herself comfortable in Hell. It's all a mess now.
It doesn't have to be. She knows that. She understands that she's making things much more complicated than they are, or even have to be, but she can't help it. When she lost Daniel, she started to resist everything good and simple she wanted for fear of losing it. With Daniel she could have been free, so instead of focusing on the loss of a man she loved dearly, she focused on the kind of life they wanted to lead. She focused on freedom and did what she thought would grant her that freedom. But...she's never really loved again, aside from Henry that is. And Robin's her soulmate, but she doesn't think that's her own choice to love again. It's just how things are. Were, she corrects herself. She's not a part of that world anymore. She isn't in Robin's life right now. She doesn't exist beyond this realm, beyond Hell and the entirety of the Underworld. It's not a mess. She is.
"It's ironic how cold this place is," she hears a familiar voice say from behind her.
She doesn't have to turn around to know who it is, so she faces forward and keeps her back to her uninvited guest. Her hands are in her lap and her shoulders are stiff as she curls into herself to ward off the chill of the air.
Emma comes closer and walks in front of her before she takes a seat on the bench. Their legs touch and she shivers for an entirely different reason than she had earlier, but she doesn't lean in any closer. She might need body heat, but she won't cuddle with Emma to get it. She'd rather suffer the cold than move any closer to the source of her confusion.
"So...your mom's here," the younger woman says and rubs her hands up and down her thighs, presumably to warm herself up.
"She is," Regina flatly, and unnecessarily, replies.
"Is...that...a good thing?"
"Why does that matter?"
"Well, last time I... She wasn't... And then with what happened…"
She closes her eyes again and runs her hands through her hair before she asks, "Will you ever speak in full sentences again or are you just going to stop making any sense now?"
She finally looks at Emma and immediately she realizes it's a mistake. Green eyes are open and vulnerable again and her usually pink and slightly chapped lips, now painted red, are set in a small frown. It's almost a pout and it looks adorable, even reminds her of Henry when he was younger and had just woken up. He would rub the sleep from his eyes and pout as he clutched his teddy bear or blanket, whatever he'd slept with, before he grumbled about not feeling well.
"Now you're the one that's not making any sense," Emma says.
She snaps out of her thoughts and furrows her brow as she stares at Emma, uncomprehending.
"First you're growling at me for not speaking coherently, and then you started smiling," Emma informs her.
"I'm...sorry," she carefully starts to confess. "I was thinking of Henry."
"I...guess I'll take that as a compliment?"
"Any time I smile it should be taken as a compliment."
And then it's Emma who's smiling.
She rolls her eyes and slides away from the younger woman, but remains on the bench. Thankfully, Emma doesn't move toward her.
"You still don't want to talk," Emma says.
"Finally, something you understand."
"Don't do that."
She grips the edge of the bench until her knuckles are white before she asks, "Do what?"
"Snap at me. I haven't done anything wrong."
"You're here. That's what's wrong."
"So, what? I was just supposed to let you die?"
"Yes," she says before she swallows a lump in her throat.
"Bullshit," Emma firmly replies.
She doesn't want to look at the blonde. She can hear the anger in the other woman's voice and really doesn't want to argue. "Please, just...leave me alone."
"No." Emma takes her by the chin and gently turns her head so they can see each other.
She keeps her eyes averted and swallows again. The lump remains in her throat, which starts to feel scratchy and tense. She's about to cry and that's the last thing she wants to do in front of Emma.
"Look at me," Emma quietly requests.
She shakes her head in response, but it's not good enough for the blonde who then leans in and steals a kiss.
She has a chance to deepen the kiss and see how far Emma is willing to go, just as she had started to do earlier, but she pulls away and turns her head. She doesn't want to look at Emma, and part of her just can't look at the blonde.
"Regina," Emma exhales and slides closer to her on the bench. The younger woman rests her chin on Regina's shoulder and the brunette closes her eyes and sighs.
"Don't," she weakly protests and turns her head further away.
"Is it me," Emma quietly asks and although Regina can't see the younger woman, she's sure she hears the sadness in her voice. "Am I doing something to annoy or…hurt you?"
She tries to keep her breathing steady even though the attempt is futile. Her mind keeps replaying the moment of her sacrifice over and over again while her heart aches for the other woman that saved her first, long before taking on the darkness in her place. Because of that, Regina was willing to do almost anything in Camelot to protect the blonde.
But just when things seemed to be moving forward for them, Hook came between them. It's not like she didn't demand Emma use her magic to heal Robin when she thought he would die, but Emma had done it. Because Regina had asked her. That should have meant something, but…maybe she'd pushed too hard.
"Regina," Emma says more forcefully that time.
She sucks in a breath and opens her eyes just as Emma replaces the chin on her shoulder with a hand and turns her so they're facing each other again. When she meets Emma's gaze, she sees blonde hair and pale skin wrapped in black wardrobe with those red lips, and she sees it all through watery eyes. Her vision is blurred and the colors she sees in the blue-lit space of the garden—which isn't all that lively to her in that moment—blend together like rain on a windshield or lens. Her lips start to quiver from the effort it takes to hold back her tears, but when she finally blinks she cries anyway.
"Hey," Emma softly says and brushes a thumb across her wet cheek. "What is it? What's going on with you?"
"Nothing," she lies, badly, and sniffles. She tenses up and tries to stand, but Emma grabs her by the wrist and stops her from walking away.
"Talk to me," the blonde insists with wide and pleading eyes.
She huffs and unintentionally squeezes out a few more tears before she answers, "I can't go back. Not with you."
"What? Why the hell not?"
"I just can't," is all she says and she immediately sees Emma isn't happy with that vague explanation. "You don't get to ask me why."
Emma tugs on her wrist when she tries to leave again and she glares as best she can while tears continue to slide down her face.
"Let go of me," she demands.
"Not until we talk. I came here for you. Henry's waiting for you. Don't tell me I don't get to ask why because I think I deserve to know. I risked a lot by coming here. And the longer it takes for you to come with me, the more I have to lose."
"What do you mean," she asks and furrows her brow.
Emma shakes her head, but surprisingly doesn't let go or even loosen her grip on Regina's wrist. "Never mind. Just…why can't you leave? What's holding you back?"
"How can I leave? I'm dying, Emma."
"You don't have to be," the younger woman exclaims with frustration. "Geez, Hades said it was gonna be difficult. I told him he had no idea and he laughed. Apparently, he knows about what to expect from you more than I do."
"I suppose you overestimated me and what I would do once you got here."
"That's the thing. I didn't. I'm not. You're a fighter."
"Not anymore," she sadly confesses.
"Bullshit."
She instantly looks up from the spot on the ground she'd recently focused on for a good portion of their conversation and stares at Emma with a slack jaw.
"What are you afraid of, Regina?"
And if she wasn't shocked and thrown by Emma's single word argument before, she was completely floored by the blonde's ability to see right through her and get to the heart of the problem in no time at all.
"Stop," she pleads, just as weakly as before while she closes her eyes again. "Just leave it alone."
"I can't."
"Yes, you can. You have before and you can do it again."
"What," Emma asks with confusion and a little offense. "What are you talking about?"
"Forget it," she quickly replies and yanks her hand out of the other woman's grasp. Finally, she's able to walk away and makes a hasty exit from the garden.
She goes straight to the bar and asks Meg for a shot. The woman looks like she wants to ask a question, but it seems she thinks better of it and serves her without a word. Before she can get her shot of tequila, however, she sees Cruella hanging off Cora's arm as the thinner woman in leather pants has some kind of lover's quarrel with Ursula.
Thankfully, Meg hands her the shot a few seconds later and she looks away from the trio to tip back the glass.
She asks for another with a wave of her hand and tells Meg, "Keep them coming." She finishes her second shot when she sees Emma walk in from the garden. She freezes as she waits for Emma to approach, but the blonde stares at her for a moment with sad eyes before she heads for the stairs and disappears behind the purple door.
Meg sets a few more shots in front of her and looks back and forth between her and the self-closing purple door. The bartender raises an eyebrow at her and it mirrors the look she gives other people when she's calling them out on their flaws. Mostly Emma, but not always and not lately.
She downs the third shot and everything gets a little fuzzy. Her vision is blurry and the room starts to spin, so she closes her eyes and takes a minute before she opens them again. She starts laughing as she thinks about her current situation and how she came to be in that situation at all. It's not funny in the slightest, but the liquor puts a spin on things and makes her misery a little more entertaining.
She laughs and laughs and doesn't notice that Meg doesn't give her a seventh shot. She barely even registers the hand on her arm or how she gets into her room. She's on her bed and feeling a little disoriented, but she's fine. She's hurting a bit on the inside, but it's her own damn fault so she can push it down and ignore it. She can let the tequila do what it's supposed to do and she can wallow later. She can hate herself later. For now, she strips out of her bra and pants and adopts a very Emma style of sleeping. And the next time her head hits the pillow, after several long minutes of struggling to get out of clothes as they bunched up and trapped her during the removal process, she's passed out for the evening.
She says goodbye to Emma. She holds her hand and stares so deeply into crying green eyes as she gives Emma their son and all her memories. She's giving Emma everything and, although it's exceedingly difficult to leave Henry, it's effortless in that moment to give the blonde the biggest part of herself.
As she gives Emma all that she has, she's also giving the younger woman and their son a happy ending; and that has to be enough, or she'll never be able to let go. She'll want to keep holding Emma's hand and they'll all suffer at Pan's feet in the new Neverland. Because at least they'll be together.
But that's selfish. She won't do that to them. They deserve better. She was never meant to be happy, but Emma and Henry should be. And they can be. Without her.
In the blink of an eye, she's watching that eyesore yellow Bug drive off with the two people that matter most to her in it.
And then the smoke consumes her and brings her back to the Enchanted Forest. She meets Robin, and slowly she accepts what she's lost and that she has to move on. After several months, she just needs to start over. She'll never forget, but she needs to heal. So she thinks about Henry, and occasionally about Emma, but she does it to remind herself of the person she's become. She's not a villain, not the Evil Queen, and Emma and Henry are okay.
Just as the pain in her bruised heart starts to get easier to bear, the year in the Enchanted Forest goes missing from her mind and she's back in Storybrooke only knowing that she watched Emma and Henry ride off into the sunset without her.
Hook's the one to bring them back and she thinks it's possible, all the what-could-have-beens, are possible.
But they aren't.
And then so many things happen after Emma returns, and suddenly she's the Dark One.
They're in Camelot and Emma needs her, but maybe she still needs Emma, too. Except Emma's all over Hook and it's not…she has no right. She's with Robin and she shouldn't want or expect much from Emma. It's insane, but there was something. There was—
"They don't understand me. Not like you do."
"Henry brought me to Storybrooke to bring back the happy endings. My job's not done until I do that for everyone. Including you."
"I'm in."
"You've worked too hard to have your happiness destroyed."
The tears are hot as they slide down her cheeks and she turns on her side before the sobs start. She curls in on herself and cries.
"Regina," her mother quietly starts to speak and she feels the bed dip behind her. She sniffles.
"What can I do," Cora asks after a few seconds as though she wanted to say something else, but thought better of it.
"You can't help," she demands and pulls the pillow further against her face.
"Are you sure about that? You won't even talk to me, dear. How do you know I can't help?"
"Experience. That's how I know."
Cora sighs and places a hand on her shoulder, which instantly makes her recoil.
"I'm sorry you—" Cora begins to say, but she cuts her off.
"Don't say anything," she growls in the most warning tone she can manage, her voice as wet as her eyes. She sniffles again and scoots away from her mother before she curls further in on herself.
Cora seems to still for only a second before she concedes and removes her hand from Regina's shoulder. She's slightly jostled as the mattress dips one way and then the other as her mother repositions herself on the bed and slides under the covers. The lights go out and the room is plunged into darkness like it usually is, like Regina usually feels.
In the dark and the quiet, the spinning stops and Regina's able to softly cry herself to sleep.
Over the next few days, she wakes up next to her mother—which is only slightly disturbing after the first time it happened, especially given her hangover and near lack of clothing—and she sees Emma down at the bar on occasion, but they don't talk. The blonde gives her big puppy dog eyes for a moment or two and then looks away. Emma doesn't wave or smile or approach her at all, and she supposes that's fair. Regina seemingly rejected her after both times they'd kissed, so it wasn't like Emma owed it to her to keep coming back, even though that's exactly what she expected the younger woman to do.
It's unhealthy for her to think Emma will push her harder, come at her again with logic or maybe even some kind of emotion that she's only recently started to show. If she keeps depending on Emma to make the next move, they might not get anywhere, especially when she'd been the one to pull away. Emma isn't the problem. She is, although it stems from a place of her own hurt. It comes from what Emma's done in the past. It comes from what she's witnessed and felt, and just like she knows not to trust her mother with matters of the heart—unless she's trying to steal them in a very literal way—she knows from experience that what happened in Emma's room, and again in the garden, is just a fluke. It's a one-off. It's something that was tested and briefly explored, but it's not something that will last. It's not enough.
Though she's not entirely conscious of it, her heart slows every time she gets out of bed in Hell. She feels groggy every morning, and it only gets worse the longer she's here. That's as much as she understands, and even the reason as to why she feels that way is still a mystery to her. But it's with the knowledge that she feels worse every day that she also knows she's too weak to go through everything all over again. She's too weak to grin and bear a different kind of loss, not of a life, but of hope and possibility. She doesn't quite know it yet, but her heart isn't strong enough to endure the pain of too many almosts and maybes and "we did it", "our magic", "our son", "together", "I'm with Regina." And then it all just goes away. Darkness coils around one of them and it's this huge spectacle. There's so much care behind the action and it speaks louder than any words...
But that's not what it is. It's not what Regina once thought it to be.
"And why should I have thought that's what it was," Regina asks with a furrowed brow and downturned lips when she's alone at the bar with Ursula. "Just because no one's ever done anything like that for me before doesn't mean it was something more than being a good friend. Because I never gave her any reason to lo- ...We were with other people."
She hears a light chuckle, almost inaudible, from Ursula and when she looks up to see if she heard right, she sees a smirk on the woman's face as the woman approaches the bar. She glares at the Sea Witch, or as she still sometimes refers to her in her mind, the Sea Bitch. "What?"
"It's amusing," Ursula replies.
"What about any of this is amusing?"
Ursula shakes her head and tries not to laugh again. "You think she needs a reason to love you. She doesn't. It just happens sometimes."
"But she doesn't love me."
"Has she told you that?"
"No, but she doesn't have to."
Ursula rolls her eyes and slides onto the stool next to her before she flags down the bartender and holds up two fingers. "Regina...do you want to know how long it took her to decide whether or not she wanted to risk her life coming to get you?"
She looks up again when she hears the words "risk her life." Her eyes widen before she asks, "There was a risk?"
"Of course there was," Ursula says. "Neither of us is dead, but we came to Hell anyway. I didn't know much about what it would take to get here, and all the information she had about this place came from me."
Her mouth slowly opens as she realizes that Emma probably did another idiotic thing to save her. Again.
"I can't speak for her, but if you want my opinion I'd say you mean more to her than you think."
"That...doesn't mean much."
"Regina, dear, it means there's someone in this world who'd go to Hell and back for you, in every meaning of the phrase," her mother cuts in as she approaches the bar with Cruella on her arm.
Ursula turns to look at the two of them, but almost immediately looks down at the floor and gulps. Something's on her mind, and she hasn't been extremely talkative since her arrival. She's fought with Cruella at the bar and disappeared into her room with the dog killer, but it doesn't look like much has been resolved. Regina would rather focus on that problem than her own, but Ursula doesn't say anything about it. The woman just listened to her rant, but didn't share anything about herself, even though it's clear she's going through something as well.
"If you would let me talk to you, I could have explained this all by now," Cora adds.
"There's nothing to explain," she insists.
"She has a choice," Ursula speaks up again with her eyes off the floor and focused a little more sharply on Regina. "And right now she's staying. That should be enough to convince you to talk to her."
She doesn't know what Ursula's trying to tell her, but there's something more to what the woman's saying. She can feel it. She can see it in Ursula's eyes as the other woman stares at her with insistence.
She looks at the three women around her before her eyes glance across the room from one end to the other. Music plays and people dance and sway. And then there's Emma.
Emma's sitting on the edge of a stage and she's looking down at something on her finger. A ring. She can't tell what kind of ring, but it's a ring that sits almost heavily on her and weighs her down.
The blonde's legs are tucked beneath her, cross-legged on the floor of the empty stage and she twists the thick metal around her finger a few times before she closes her eyes and takes a breath. Regina watches, curious and fascinated, and waits to see what else Emma will do. Only a few more seconds pass before the younger woman covers the entire ring with her other hand and then pulls. She removes the ring and holds it up to appraise it. She seemingly takes stock of what she holds and Regina then gets a better look at the ring, which she knows she's seen before, but isn't sure where she's seen it.
It doesn't really matter when Emma sets it down and then slides off the stage, leaving it behind to make her way toward the garden.
She waits a moment before she heads over to the stage and takes a closer look at the ring. She picks it up and holds it in the light as she moves it left and right, most of her focus on the bright red gem in the center. After a few seconds, her eyes sweep over the sides of the ring to inspect the etchings. It's not a ring from the Land Without Magic, and it's as rough as she remembers when she last touched it decades ago in the Enchanted Forest.
Her eyes widen in realization and she looks over her shoulder at the closed door to the garden. She then glances at Ursula at the bar and sees the woman dip her head as she lifts her drink with a knowing and encouraging expression on her face. Ursula takes a sip of her drink after she's given Regina the signal to go after Emma. At least that's what Regina understood the gesture to mean.
She doesn't hold off any longer and drops the ring as she makes hurried steps toward the garden. She throws the door open as soon as she reaches it and immediately looks around the place before she's even taken more than a small step inside. She doesn't see Emma, or anyone else for that matter, but she hears the waterfall in the distance before a chill settles over her. Her skin prickles with goosebumps and her stomach churns. She has a bad feeling that she can't shake.
"Emma," she calls out with a furrowed brow and shaky voice.
There's no response and the feeling low in her gut doesn't abate. She steps further into the garden and looks left and right as she approaches the concrete bench, but there's still no sign of Emma. It's like the woman hadn't even come into the garden at all.
Until she hears a splash.
She whips her head to her right and sees the water beneath the waterfall ripple. All the air in her lungs leaves her and in an instant, she sprints to the edge of the deep water. She peers down and tries to see through it and confirm her fear that Emma jumped in, but she can't see anything for a while. The water is still rippling and it's too deep to get a clear image, but as soon as it starts to settle and the waves lessen she sees a black figure with light hair and pale skin.
"Emma!"
She doesn't think twice. She just takes that leap and plunges into the depths of the cold water. She cringes the entire way down as she fights off the urge to scream about how freezing it is. It gets easier the closer she gets to Emma, who's just sitting near the bottom of the cove, her arms limply extended above her head. The only sign of life are the few and far between bubbles that escape her nose.
When she's almost at eye level with the blonde, she sees Emma has her eyes squeezed shut and the younger woman's expression makes Regina think she's been kicked in the gut. Emma isn't peaceful or happy or relaxed. She's in pain. Immediately, she hurts for Emma and doesn't hesitate to reach out.
She grabs the other woman by the wrist and Emma opens her eyes. They look at each other through the bubbles they both make underwater as they exhale through their noses and suddenly nothing else matters but that moment. There's so much Regina's been focused on since her arrival only a short time ago, and she refused to think about anything else, even after Emma showed up, but she should have stopped. She should have seen. Emma had come all that way for her, but there were things she had to deal with just as Regina had things to deal with. They weren't any different from each other, except Regina had been too blind to see it until now. Emma hadn't been blind at all, despite not being able to figure out the reason of Regina's reluctance to give in to whatever they had.
As she stares into those sad green eyes, all Regina thinks about then is what Emma needs, what Emma's going through, and most importantly getting her out of the water.
So she tugs on the wrist she has in her grasp and pulls Emma close before wrapping an arm around the younger woman's slender waist and dragging her up to the surface. As soon as both of their heads are above water, they gasp. Emma, however, is the first to break and she starts to cry.
She sobs and expels frustrated grunts and groans and then yells to the sky, to no one; just lets it out. Regina starts to cry as she watches Emma release all that pain and anger the blonde has held back ever since she became the Dark One, aside from a few moments in Camelot. She hugs her a little tighter and pulls her a little closer as they tread water together, their legs occasionally entwining below the surface as they scissor-kick to stay afloat.
Regina gives her another moment of lashing out before she starts to bring them to the edge of the water. Once Regina's able to get a hand on the edge to hoist herself out of the water, Emma sniffles and coughs and places her hand on the ground to support herself. A few seconds later, Emma pulls herself out of the water and Regina waits before following after her, in case the blonde falls. But Emma doesn't fall and has enough strength left inside her to hold out a hand to Regina. She lets the younger woman pull her out, and they sigh and sag against each other when they both sit on the water's edge.
"Everyone I care about leaves," Emma quietly confesses.
Regina doesn't say anything and gives Emma room to continue should she want to, and apparently she does.
"I didn't want him to die because I couldn't lose another one. But...I should have let him go. He left me anyway. He's not the same."
"It's not your fault," Regina tells her. "He chose to give in to the darkness in a way you never did."
"The pull was strong and it's just too easy to let it take over," Emma tries to argue.
"And when has taking the easy way ever been a good thing in our lives? I was there, Emma. I told him he didn't have to be this way, you told him to stop. He chose to stay lost, to remain the villain of the story. That's not on you. It's never been on you."
Emma shakes her head. "What if it had been Robin? Or Daniel or...or Henry? Would you still say the same?"
"No," she answers in seconds. She doesn't even have to think about it. "I'd be blaming myself, too. And I would be a pain in the ass and I wouldn't believe anything you told me, even though my head knows what you're saying it right. My heart just wouldn't feel it."
"What would I be saying to you?"
"The same thing I'm telling you."
Emma shakes her head again and stutters a few times as she struggles to find the right way to say whatever she's trying to say. "How do you know our roles would be reversed?"
"Because whether I ask for you to do it or not, you're always right here. Even when I was still working things out and struggling to be better, you were on that damn bench trying to pull me back. You tried to get me out of my own head when I stood beside my mother and I didn't listen to you then either, but you were there. Just like you're here."
"I'm not the one who leaves. I never was. I was always tossed out and around and eventually that just became a part of who I was. I was the girl who left before I could be kicked to the curb."
"Until Henry."
Emma nods and sniffles as a sad smile appears on her face and new tears fall. "That is one amazing kid we've got, Regina." She lowers her voice before she adds, "Please don't make him an orphan."
"He won't be. You just have to let me go."
"No. I won't lose another person. I'm not losing you. I don't care what happens when we get out of here, but I'm not leaving without you. And Henry knows that. So tell me why you won't come back to us. What's keeping you here?"
She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes as she leans further into Emma's side. "You might not care what happens if we get out of here, but I do," she slowly admits.
"You say that like you expect everything to be horrible if you live."
"It just might be," she replies.
"Whatever happens, you know you'll always have Henry and me. You said it yourself."
"But do I really have you?" The words come out of her mouth before she can even think about whether she should say them. She isn't sure how obvious her feelings are in the phrasing of her question, but she feels like she's bared herself, heart and soul, to Emma.
She feels a hand slide up the back of her neck and tangle in her wet hair. It surprises her and her breath catches in her throat before she turns to look at Emma and pulls back a little so she can make eye contact. The blonde has never looked more sure of herself, or sincerer, than when she says, "You have me. Any way you want me."