A/N: Hahahahahaha... LOOKIT I WROTE ANOTHER CHAPTER.

I am so fucking proud of me today. Writing like a boss.

(The fact that I procrastinated away a whole four-day weekend to get here is entirely beside the point.)

...Apparently when I say "in fairly short order" I mean "in two whole months".

I apologize. I know Chapter 9 is going to be a bitch, so I will make no further promises.

This, I Find In You

Chapter 8: A Hope Undeserved

"Why did you do it?"

The question had been roiling within her chest for quite some time, and the words had finally worked their way up her throat and lurched out of her mouth.

Emma froze, coffee halfway to her mouth, and raised her eyebrows in question.

"What? …Volunteer to be your mom's chew-toy?"

Regina shuffled uncomfortably on the edge of the mattress, and lowered her gaze to the imaginary wrinkles in her suit pants, her voice low.

"…Why did you ask that she be spared?"

"First of all, she's your mom." Regina flicked her eyes back up, and pursed her lips, scepticism written into her expression.

"That's really not a good enough reason."

"Second, she's badly injured. It wouldn't be a fair fight." The older woman bit back a bitter laugh.

"I'd ask if you'd met her, only..." she gestured vaguely at the bloodied sheets.

"…And three?" Emma's face set itself into a serious mask, all light-heartedness aside, her eyes sober and grey, "…her heart is in a box, somewhere in Storybrooke. Snow spoke to Gold sometime between now and last night. Long story short? She's a heartless bitch because she's literally a heartless bitch."

Regina's eyes narrowed at Emma's colourful turn of phrase.

"That's still my mother you're talking about."

Emma clenched her jaw, resisting the urge to roll her eyes.

"…aaaaand missing the point. Listen, Regina – we could give her heart back. She'd be able to love you… You could have a mom."

Suspiciously shiny brown locked with warm green and silence fell over the room as the implications of Emma's words sunk in.

Regina closed her eyes, and relished the warmth of the hand that crept over to cover her own.

She wasn't going to cry.

She wasn't going to cry.

She wasn't going to –

Goddammit.

She flipped her hand over, so that their palms pressed together, and squeezed tight as one, single, traitorous tear escaped and slid slowly down her cheek.

Her voice croaked, and shook, and nearly broke into a sob, but she couldn't bring herself to care.

"…A 'mom', you said?"

Not 'mother', to be feared. Not 'mother', sweet and cruel.

…Mom.

"Yeah, I did." Emma shifted slightly against the pillows that propped her up, and Regina felt a finger tilt her chin up slightly and her eyes flickered open to meet the intense gaze.

"Why?"

Why let the woman live? Why not strike while the iron was hot?

Her mother was weak. Her mother was never weak.

An opportunity like this would never come again.

She knew that she would never be able to seize it, but that's what she had Emma for – to make the hard decision, to strike the lethal blow when she wasn't strong enough to do it herself.

…Right?

She knew, logically, rationally, that her mother deserved it for what she had done to Emma, if for nothing else. Emma would be justified in striking for herself, Cora was her enemy. She had no reason to spare her, there were no ties, no love lost between them.

A thumb brushed below her bottom lip, and searching green eyes brought her back to the present.

"Now, let's be clear: I am not doing this for her. This – all of this – it's all for you."

Regina's eyes continued to question Emma, pleading the question that had fallen from her lips as a mere whisper.

This was no small gesture. This was huge. This was… this was for her?

She still didn't understand. No one had ever…

As Queen, suitors had given her jewels and flattery, trinkets and empty words.

But this was too much.

...This was hope.

Her mother did not deserve to be spared, but neither did she deserve this consideration.

Regina bit her lips, eyes brimming with fresh tears.

"Emma…"

"It's just… I know what it's like, alright? To need that."

Her face darkened.

Need.

She hated that word.

"I don't need anything from anyone."

Her defences flung up about her heart; a tired, old reflex.

The blonde harrumphed

"Yeah, tell your face that,"

…A tired, old reflex that obviously didn't hold much water anymore.

Emma smiled down at their joined hands, and laced their fingers together, her voice soft.

"Seriously. It's okay, you know… to want your mother to love you. It's allowed."

Regina's smile re-emerged – small, but most certainly present. With one last squeeze, she freed her hand from Emma's and cleared her throat, gathering her composure.

Emma shrugged

"The way I see it we have two options. One: we stay put, and in a little while one of us is going to be motherless."

"And two?"

"We go out there and there's a chance that we'll both have mothers that love us." She leaned forward conspiratorially, and whispered "…I'd pick option two every time."

"Even for a mother like mine?"

"You've got no idea what your mom is like… not really." She cocked her head to the side, "Don't you want to find out?"

"Yes, but…"

"'But' what?"

"What if she…"

Regina lowered her head, hating her sudden insecurity.

…If her mother had her heart, her mother would be good. And she herself was anything but.

"What?" Emma smiled, trying to catch her eye, "…Doesn't love you? …Doesn't accept you? …Doesn't 'approve of your life choices'?"

"Yes."

"You're going to be fine. She's going to love you."

"You're sure?"

She hated that her voice was so small. So… needing.

"Oh, yeah."

Regina cleared her throat.

"There's just one problem with this plan of yours, Swan. Your mother is out there, looking for my mother, and she doesn't seem to be quite as eager about the idea of leniency as you are."

Emma's head sunk back into the pillows, exasperated.

"Seriously – I give her one job…"

"The restraint you've requested is no small thing. Then there's the issue of your physical condition. I just don't see this happening."

"…It's okay, Mom. I can help."

Both heads spun in sync to face the small, pyjama-clad boy standing in the foyer, rubbing sleepily at his eyes.

"Henry, I really don't think..."

"She's right, kid."

He frowned, and walked to the end of the bed.

"You guys have no idea what I'm capable of."

Regina turned her head, hiding her smile of amusement from her son, and sharing it with Emma.

There could be no mistaking whose son this was.

"Okay, then. Show us your skills."

A/N: Regina's emotions are all over the place. And it's not going to get much better in Chapter 9.

Sorry.

But there are some Swan Queen cuddles coming up.

So there's that.