A/N: First and foremost, a big Thank You to the reading, reviewing, and writing community in this fandom. Y'all are the best, and you make writing here so much fun.

And a much overdue thank you to Miss Poisonous, without whom this story would still be stalled in Chapter 33. She earned her keys to this kingdom a while ago, but now she has a duplicate set as well as authority over the drawbridge (and a perfect house walking distance to Granny's but near the best bike trails).

And another big thank you to SouthForWinter, who graciously beta-ed this chapter and the next, improving them greatly.

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David abandoned his truck in Regina's driveway without a thought and strode toward town like a man on a mission.

"Infuriating woman," David muttered to himself. Everything they'd been through and she threatened him out of her house. His toothbrush was still there!

He stopped short. Where was he going to stay?

Too angry to care, he shuffled the practical thought from his head and continued his mental tirade down the street. Where was a dragon to slay when you needed one?

Framed were-wolves, stacks of paperwork, humming magic, toad transformation, resurrected fiancés, consuming kisses, designated driving, and the best night of sleep either of them had had in half a century, and she'd just tossed him away like a used-up apple core. How could he have allowed himself to believe that they could have a relationship? She was the Evil Queen, and he was Prince Charming, for goodness sake. The whole concept was ridiculous.

Except that they worked, his heart whispered. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, they worked. She was angry, lonely, and stubborn. He was overcompensating, overlooked, and stubborn. They had both been reduced to roles in relation to the story of Snow's life told to adoring thousands—the details that neither of them had wanted royalty or power ignored in the drama of a princess persecuted by her motivationless evil step-mother but finding love with a handsome prince (who wasn't really a prince, but that hardly mattered).

Neither he nor Regina had ever had a chance to form their own destinies. And she had been trapped much longer than he had. He'd only been pawned off to King George, and subsequently Midas, for how long? Maybe two months? Before he'd met Snow and felt like he could take his life back. Whereas Regina had known she was trapped since she was seventeen, if not longer.

No wonder she'd cast a prison-curse to free herself.

He understood her. He didn't excuse her, but he understood her. She was utterly aggravating. She had fought for her son—and fought for him the right way, on the side of good—only to backslide and throw him out. Impossibly frustrating. Why couldn't she let him love her?

Because he did love her. His angry veins were bursting over her behavior, but his heart was with her as surely as if she'd removed it from his chest to display on her mantle.

Without thought, he knocked on the door to the loft.

"What do you think you're doing here?" Emma hissed through the partially opened doorway.

"I need to see Henry," David said, not knowing the answer to Emma's question until the words left his mouth and the half-formed thought congealed in his head. "I'm sorry. I should have called first. I didn't know I was coming here."

Emma just shook her head in incredulous irritation. Fairytale characters, she thought. "You're right. You should have called," she said. "But since Mary Margaret is staying with Ruby, you can come in," her tone made it clear that she was firmly on Team Snow. Something in David's heart clenched at that realization, but he recognized—as he'd told Snow in the days before she'd fallen through the hat—that Emma would need time and space.

Of course, now, his heart clenched more tightly, there might not be enough time or space in all the realms for Emma to forgive his betrayal of her mother-friend.

"Thank you," he said honestly as he stepped into the apartment.

"Yeah. Whatever," Emma replied, walking over to the stairs. All she wanted was to sleep for three days, but her fucked-up Fairy Tale family kept intruding with their drama. "Henry! David's here to see you," she called. "Upset him, and we'll have bigger problems," she leveled at David, too spent to care about the inelegance of her threat. The feeling was there; that's what mattered, she told herself, flopping into the nearest chair.

"David!" Henry came running. "Is Mom okay? I haven't done any magic, honest—"

"Whoa, buddy," David clapped a calming hand onto Henry's shoulder. "Nothing's wrong with your mother," he assured his grandson, even as he wondered at the truth of his own words. "Maybe you could call her a bit later, though?" he suggested. If anyone could remind Regina why she shouldn't revert to The Evil Queen, it would be Henry.

"Sure," Henry agreed. "But then why are you here? Why aren't you with my mom?" Suddenly suspicious he asked, "Are you here because you're still in love with Snow? You promised you wouldn't hurt her!"

"Calm down, Henry," David said, leading him over to sit at the kitchen table. "Maybe let me get a word in, kiddo?" he cajoled—and stalled, trying to decide how to explain the complicated situation to the young, perceptive boy. Finally, he decided to blunder through the truth. It's all he really knew how to do anyway. "I will always love Snow," he began, but continued quickly to head off Henry's protest, "But I am in love with your mother."

"Okay . . ." Henry acknowledged, his concern not completely alleviated. If everything was fine with David and his mom, why wasn't she here with him? And David seemed really tense, almost like he was still in Quest Mode.

"I'd like to borrow your book," David said abruptly. He wasn't comfortable with lengthy speeches, and he was awkwardly aware that his adult daughter was within earshot.

"Okay," Henry said. "But, just so you know, there isn't much in there about Mom. It only includes The Evil Queen attacking Prince Charming and Snow White. There isn't anything about Daniel or her mother. I already checked," he explained as he retrieved his book and handed it to David.

"I think I'd like to read it anyway," David said, though his shoulders slumped slightly in disappointment. He hadn't realized how much he was hoping that the book would help him understand Regina's history until Henry told him it wouldn't work. After all, he hadn't even known he was coming to the loft to ask for the book until he did it. Still, maybe he would have more context for the stories in which Regina was mentioned than Henry did.

As he held Henry's book, David recollected Henry's previous reverence for it and its contents. "Are you really okay with me and your mother, Henry?" David asked. Despite the fact that Regina had almost incinerated him in purple fire not an hour earlier, he considered Henry's possible disapproval the greater obstacle to a relationship with Regina. She would never jeopardize her son's happiness.

Henry nodded. "I am. It's weird, and it'll be weird for a while—it's always just been the two of us—but you make her happy. I don't think I've ever seen her happy like that before," he tried to remember.

"Even though this book says that Snow White and Prince Charming belong together?" David asked, paraphrasing Henry's argument to him from before the curse broke.

"Prince Charming and Snow White did belong together," Henry said with certainty. "But you're David, not Prince Charming. And Mom is Mom, not The Evil Queen, even if you both used to be. So maybe you and my mom belong together now," Henry shrugged. He was still confused. He'd spent the better part of a year believing so strongly in every detail of his book that the idea that it wasn't eternally accurate was fundamentally upsetting. But he really missed his mom, especially the mom he remembered from when he was little, from before he'd noticed the curse. She'd laughed and smiled and loved so freely. The past couple weeks, she'd shown glimmers of what he remembered—they'd had fun chasing David when he was a toad and even more fun covering the house in blasted-apart cake.

He wanted those memories of his mom to be true more than he wanted his book to be true.

And if David helped make it true, then he was okay with that, even if he didn't really understand it. Besides, he really wanted a dad. Even if it was his grandfather.

"Thank you, Henry," David smiled gratefully. "I think you're right about that." He was still angry with Regina, but he felt some of that anger give way to the faith that had reflamed within him in response to Henry's belief.

Feeling Emma's skeptical stare on the back of his neck, however, David rose. "I should go," he told Henry. "Thank you for loaning me this," he held the book close to his chest, showing Henry he would protect his prized possession.

"Heading back to the manor?" Emma asked snidely as she opened the door to encourage his exit. She felt childish as soon as she spoke, but she refused to feel guilty. He'd created this situation, after all; she'd never wanted this drama. (But hadn't she? When she'd wished for a family for all of those years, hadn't she wished for all of the follies and foibles that came with being part of group of people—that came with belonging?)

"No," David replied candidly. "Like I told you in the hospital, that was a temporary living situation to make things simpler leading up to the spell."

Emma had the grace to look ashamed of her petty question as Henry asked, "Then where will you stay?"

"I'm not sure yet, kiddo," David replied jovially, "But I'll figure it out," he said with a wink. "And you can always call my cell phone if you need me," he reminded him with a ruffle to his hair. "I love you both," he said with a quick hug to Henry and an un-met look to Emma. "Bye, kiddo," he said as he left, his heart both lighter and heavier than when he'd arrived.

Regina knew she should feel cold. Her skin was cold, and her joints were stiff. She'd been sitting on the hard bench by her apple tree for an uncountable number of moments not thinking about how her life had reached this point. She idly sparked some magic off her fingers, watching the violet flames flicker and die. Such a lot of trouble for something so small and fleeting, she mused.

She supposed she ought to go inside. Henry may have healed her magic and erased the physical vestiges of her apprenticeship to the Dark One, but she was still susceptible to traditional human illness. It would not do to survive all she'd survived only to contract something as pedestrian as pneumonia and die.

She crossed her arms, digging her fingers into her biceps, trying to restore feeling in them—her biceps, her fingers, anything.

She looked at her apple tree.

She missed him—Daniel, her father, Henry, David—all of them and none of them at once. Love is weakness. She'd often thought that she and the world would have been better off had she always been alone.

We can find happiness. Together. But the choice is yours.

David and her father spoke in her memory in a jarring harmony. When David spoke, she felt a spark of truth in her soul, but when her father's voice dominated, the words felt hollow and empty, like the sound of a promise breaking apart on a horse's bridle. Bridle. Bridal. Bridle. She felt sick.

She went inside. If she was going to throw up, it would be within the privacy of her bathroom—not in front of her apples. She would feel exposed.

Her stomach began to settle within moments of her sitting on the pristine floor. Inexplicably, the tile felt cold through her jeans, despite the chill that had settled on her skin outside.

She leaned her head back against the wall and allowed her eyes to close; the nausea transformed into tears that gently pricked the inside of her eyelids. She'd killed everything she'd ever loved.

Except Henry. He was the one thing she'd done right.

But how much of that was due to her and how much was due to his Charming bloodline?

The doorbell rang.

Sighing, she considered not answering. But wallowing was weak and unbecoming, and it could be Henry, so she forced herself off the floor and toward the front of the house.

She pulled the door open ready to snap the head off any non-Henry that might be on the other side, but the anger stuck in her throat when she registered Astrid's bright face.

"Hello," the former fairy said cheerfully.

"Hello," Regina replied rather dumbly.

"I heard you woke up, but I wanted to see for myself," Astrid said.

"Yes, well, here I am," Regina said.

"I'm so glad," Astrid said, still standing on the stoop. "I had faith you would wake up, but I thought it would take longer. When Henry slammed that last dimension closed, I was worried you'd be out for at least a month."

"Yes, well," Regina brushed herself off absently, as though removing magical debris.

Astrid smiled at her, glad to see how healthy Regina looked after seeing her so still and pale in the hospital.

"Do you need something?" Regina asked, confused by Astrid's continued presence on her porch.

"No," Astrid replied. "I just wanted to see you."

"Oh," Regina replied, somewhat startled. "Why?"

"To make certain that you are all right," Astrid repeated, unconcerned with Regina's bluntness. "Dreamy said that he saw David walking through town like a stormcloud, so I called my friend in the Children's Ward, who confirmed that you had woken up—I knew you must be awake if David had left the hospital—so I came by to check that you are okay, only you don't seem okay," she finished on a note that was part statement, part question.

A wry expression slipped through Regina's mask, before she schooled her non-expression back into place. Still feeling uncertain—it had been a long day, week, decade, half-century—Regina's good breeding finally overcame her surprise and wariness, "Would you like to come in?" she asked.

"Yes, please," Astrid responded, stepping into the foyer.

"Would you like a cup of decaf?" Regina asked. "I was about to brew a pot." She hadn't been, but one offered guests beverages and maybe the coffee would warm her.

"That would be lovely," Astrid replied, following the queen into the kitchen and waiting patiently while Regina measured the grounds, poured the water, and hit brew.

"So, how is . . . Dreamy?" Regina asked, uncomfortable with such informalities.

"He's wonderful," Astrid smiled brightly, thinking about her dwarf. "He's the best man I know."

Regina couldn't help but crack a smile in response; Astrid's love for Grumpy was so guileless. "I'm glad," she said. And she meant it. She was glad for Astrid. "So, do you need anything?" Regina asked, fixing two mugs of coffee.

"Cream and two sugars," Astrid replied promptly.

Regina chuckled a bit at Astrid's literal response, even as she added the cream and sugar, "I meant more generally, not restricted to how you take your coffee."

"Oh," Astrid responded. "No. I don't need anything," she said, slightly perplexed. "Are you still trying to understand why I'm here?"

Regina merely replied with a small shrug, handing the former fairy her coffee.

"I'm your friend, Regina," Astrid stated. "And I thought, since David looked like a stormcloud and Henry is with Emma, that you might need a friend today."

"Oh," Regina said, dumbstruck.

"It's okay," Astrid said, giving Regina's hand a solid squeeze, "I've never really had a friend before either. We can learn together."

Regina felt a confused ball of emotion attempting to untie itself within her chest. Astrid's words felt kind rather than patronizing and Regina heard herself reply with a tight, uncertain, "All right."

And the two women sipped their coffee and discussed the relative merits of theoretical versus practical magical training for fairies.

"Do you know why David is so upset?" Astrid asked after she and Regina had exhausted the major points of debate on fairy education as well as a pot and a half of decaf coffee.

"Yes," Regina said.

There, David, she thought. I answered honestly. I'm making an effort with a real friendship-relationship here. I am not a coward. Not a complete one at least.

"Are you going to tell me?" Astrid asked with a slight tease in her tone.

"I haven't decided yet," Regina said, pausing. "I don't want to," she finished honestly.

"Then you don't have to," Astrid replied easily. "But have you decided what you're going to do about it?"

"I'm going to prove him wrong," Regina said with sudden resolve. What she needed to do crystallized in her mind. "I'm sorry, Astrid, but I have to go."

"All right," Astrid replied, lightly laughing at the sudden shift in the former queen's manner and energy. Glad to see her friend more animated—and seemingly free of the homicidal intent for which she was infamous—Astrid politely followed Regina, who grabbed her coat and purse, guided Astrid out the front door, and locked it behind them.

"Would you like to do lunch tomorrow?" Regina asked, feeling suddenly bold and just as suddenly insecure. What if Astrid said no?

"That would be great," Astrid replied. "Granny's at noon?"

"Perfect," Regina replied with a genuine smile, however unfamiliar her facial muscles may have found it. "Noon it is."

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A/N: Feedback is helpful and appreciated!