The twisted version of Granny's diner was cleared out, save for their small group. Regina sat perched, quite uncomfortably, on the edge of a bar stool, Robin and Henry at either side. Robin's hand was flush at her back, tracing gentle patterns against the back of her heavy, black wool coat.

"She'd really do that?" Snow asked in horror. But Snow knew better. Snow knew Cora at her worst, had seen the measures she would take in the name of putting her daughter first.

"She'll throw your father — her husband — into the fire?" she asked, pressing into the question.

"Of course she will," Regina answered evenly, her eyes narrowed as if to challenge the younger woman to recall the evil she had done with her time on earth.

"She thinks she's giving me my best chance," Regina added, her brow lifting, remembering that excuse to have given way to years of deep sorrow in her heart.

"I can't let my father suffer because of me."

The sentiment was there, but Regina understood the irony all too well. Because that's exactly what had happened. Her father was only there in the Underworld because she had put him there. She had ripped his heart out — in the name of giving herself her best chance — and he had died for the cause. It was moments like this — memories like these — that made Regina feel irredeemable, even after all the work she'd done to the contrary.

"Regina, it's alright," Robin cooed, hoping to soothe the obvious pain she was in.

"No," she cut him off. "It's not."

She pulled away from his touch and slid off of the stool, stepping away from the crowd of her supporters, who were all of a sudden suffocating her with their intended good.

"He's here because I killed him," Regina lamented aloud. "The only way I've been able to deal with that all these years is by imagining he went to a better place," she explained, choking on the painful words. Because none of them were proving to be true.

"But. He didn't," she regretted, her gaze falling, sadly looking at her belly, her hands moving to cradle the swell, comforting her child where she could not comfort herself.

"Maybe I should get on that boat," Regina sighed in defeat.

"Yes, you should," Emma replied suddenly, her eyes locking with Regina's.

"Absolutely not," David argued, his brow furrowing. "We're not leaving until we find Hook — together," he demanded.

And for as selfish and idiotic as his words sounded, there was an understanding — even in Regina — that he meant to keep them all together to keep them all safe. It was less about being a team effort now, and more about making sure they all lived through this. And Regina had the most on the line.

"It's dangerous here," Emma answered, shaking her head and unconsciously stepping just a bit closer to Regina.

"Which is why we're not leaving anyone alone," Snow stepped back in.

"Perhaps I can cut through this little family squabble," Gold offered, holding up a vile.

"What the hell is that," David asked in genuine curiosity.

"This is the way to find your deceased pirate," Gold announced triumphantly.

And it would be a lie if that didn't feel like an enormous relief — particularly to Regina, who was once again shifting uncomfortably from hip to hip. Death seemed not to agree with the new life in her belly, and the sooner they found Hook, the sooner they could go home.

"It lets you communicate with the dead," Gold explained further. "Pour this over Hook's grave, and we can stop guessing where he is and simply ask him."

"You're saying Hook has a grave, here, in the Underworld?" David pressed.

"Everyone down here has a grave," Gold replied. "You'll find the cemetery right where you remember it."

"Emma, if this works, we could find Hook before the boat leaves," Snow added hopefully. "We could all get out of here together."

"A fine idea. I suggest you all get moving," Gold quipped.

"No way. You're coming with us," Emma demanded, uninterested in being held back by any of Rumple's unannounced side quests.

"You can do this part on your own," Gold insisted. "There's a boat that's leaving soon. You want to find Hook? Fine. But I have no interest in exploring this world further. You can meet me there. But that's entirely up to you."

"Emma," Snow whispered, pulling her daughter aside. "There's no time to argue. If there's even a chance that this will work, we have to risk it. We have to get Regina out of here," she explained quietly, her words meant only for Emma.

They stood together in the cemetery, bewildered at what they had just seen. The spell had worked, but only partially. Hook's image appeared, his flesh torn and bleeding. But it was faint and flickering and there had been no opportunity for communication between them.

Emma was on the ground in front of the tombstone marked 'Killian Jones', her fists wrapped tightly in the grass.

"He doesn't know we came for him. He doesn't know we're here — he doesn't know that I care," Emma lamented.

"Yes he does," Snow encouraged, moving to stand at her daughter's side. "And Emma, we will find him," she promised.

"Did you not just see that?" Emma asked, standing up and looking into her mother's eyes. "He's in pain, he's suffering… And look at this place," she whispered, her eyes shifting around her, taking in the eerie landscape around them.

"We have half an hour," she lamented. And then her tone changed. "You have half an hour," she determined, her focus back on her mother — then jumping to Regina.

"Cora has a boat coming. You have to take it or we might all be stuck here."

"If she can arrange it, so can we — after we find Hook," David argued, seeing the look in his daughter's eyes and recognizing it as fight and fire. The same fight and fire he had seen in his wife before. "We are not giving up on you."

"Regina," Emma whispered, moving away from her parents and toward the darkly clothed pregnant woman.

Regina recognized the invitation to break away from the group, and she stepped away, following Emma a few steps over, talking in quiet whispers.

"They're staying. But you should go." Emma's eyes were soft and understanding. She never knew Regina to give up on anything — it was a quality she admired deeply in her. But this was different because this was not her fight.

"No, I — I.." Regina argued, but she stammered. She didn't have a good excuse except that Emma was her friend and she did not want to give up on her.

"Take Robin and Henry…because if you don't, whatever your father is going to face —"

"Probably looks a lot like what…Hook is facing," Regina admitted, processing the horrors of it all out loud.

"I don't know how long it will take to find him," Emma added. She shook her head, sad eyes avoiding Regina's face. "I don't know what condition we'll find him in. Or how easy it will be to get him out. Regina. If the baby comes…" Emma began, but she couldn't bear to finish her thought.

"I know," Regina replied solemnly. She could never forget.

"So, it's settled," Emma whispered. "Get them out of here. Get yourself out of here," she begged tenderly.

Regina's brow was wrinkled and her eyes sad, her face clearly showing her own internal struggle. Because as much as she knew this was the right thing to do, none of it felt right. But what could ever be right down here? But she nodded her head, and agreed.

"There's just something I have to do first," Regina whispered.

Standing alone in front of a grave, the vile of Gold's potion in her gloved hands, Regina took slow, deep breaths. The sash on her coat was slipping again, but she no longer cared enough to fix it. She stood still, staring at the name on the tombstone, her heart sinking down into the pit of her stomach.

She was crying already, trying to brace herself for what was to come. She tried to imagine the angry words she would hear, the tortured face of the man she loved so dearly as a young girl she would see before her.

Pursing her lips together, she slowly uncorked the bottle, and sprinkled the liquid over the ground.

She could feel the shift in the air, could sense the magic around her working. She could hear soft breathing joining her own. But she didn't lift her gaze. She couldn't face him.

"Regina," the familiar voice rumbled tenderly.

She took in a deep breath, her lungs aching. Her muscles went tense as she did everything in her power to keep from shaking apart.

"Daddy," she whispered, choking on the name, still unable to lift her eyes — to look at the man she had loved, and murdered.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered, shaking her head. "I'm sorry," she sobbed. And in that moment, she was as far from a cold hearted, vengeful Queen as could possibly be. She was a little girl again, small and full of regret, begging forgiveness, begging for love.

She finally gathered the courage to face him, hesitantly lifting her eyes as her lip quivered, holding back deeper sobs.

"I'm so sorry," she choked — and she felt him drawing near, his arms going around her shoulders. His closeness only broke her down further, the familiarity in his tender touch too great to bear.

"It's okay, dear. It's okay," he promised softly.

And even that was hurting her. Because of course he forgave her. How could she have ever doubted it? How could she have spent so much of her life pushing away the very people who wished her happiness, trading them for the black hole of rage and revenge?

He held her, and stroked her hair as he had done countless times when she was a girl, brushing away tears and kissing away scrapes and bruises. And his voice was soothing, the whispered words "It's okay," spoken over and over as he rocked her in his arms.

"Is it?" Regina asked, sniffling softly from over his shoulder. "Am I really forgiven?"

"Of course," he promised. "I love you no matter what. That's what fathers do," he reminded her lovingly, pulling back to look into her eyes, smiling up at her with nothing but deep, unconditional love.

"Look at you," he whispered, his eyes trailing over her, his heart swelling to the point of bursting at the sight of her belly. "A baby," he said proudly, his eyes twinkling and his chest sticking out just a little more.

Regina laughed in a breath and looked down at her own figure, her hands moving to either side of the swell. "A baby," she agreed.

"You can't stay long," he reminded her, his brow furrowing just slightly.

"No," she agreed. "But…I'm going to see to it that your suffering does not get any worse," she explained, wanting him to know that she would take Cora's offer to spare him being taken to the pit of fire.

"No, Regina," he stopped her, his hands firm against her arms. "Your mother is using me as leverage to get you to leave," he explained. "But I want you to stay."

"You've got a job to do. Helping Snow White, your friends…" He was proud when he said it, because Regina hadn't had many friends growing up. She was a lonely child, and then a lonely Queen for so long.

"They need you. They need your strength. You finally put vengeance aside to be a hero," he reminded her happily. And Regina squirmed at the term, still — and perhaps, always — uncomfortable, undeserving.

"But Mother's going to send you someplace worse," she argued. She was done being responsible for the suffering of everyone around her.

"I—I can't…cause you pain again," she stammered, shaking her head as she looked into his eyes, drowning in regret.

"Mother made her decision. We both know we can't change her mind. But she's given you a way out. Both of us," she whispered happily — because it seemed so simple, and she wanted it to be that simple.

But her father only shook his head. "When you tore my heart out, it was driven by the worst motives. But if you stay, you spread hope. That's the best thing anyone can do. Let your old man see you doing the right thing. Then — I truly won't have died in vain," he promised, and his eyes were smiling brightly, his lips pulled into a wide smile. He was proud. More than proud. He had finally seen his daughter become the woman he'd always knew her to be.

And no sooner were the words passing over his lips, his image was fading, disappearing, and leaving her alone again, standing before his grave.

Cora had brought her husband, Henry, to the fiery precipice. He stood at the edge, teetering carefully, wincing at the painful waves of heat hitting his face.

Regina rushed in through the tunnel with her son at her side — just in time.

"Let him go, Mother," she gritted out angrily, but her tone was fearful, too.

Henry grasped at the air beside her arm, reaching for her to hold her back, to keep her safe. But Regina had stepped forward again, closer still to her mother.

"You should be on that boat," Cora replied with surprise in her gaze. She had never anticipated that her daughter, after the way she had raised her, would put her friends before herself. She hadn't counted on her staying, on deliberately missing the opportunity to return home safely.

"I can't turn my back on those I love," Regina protested. Another step forward, stumbling slightly this time. Thinking back to the night they'd decided to board Charon's boat to the Underworld, Regina was now seriously questioning her sanity in choosing heeled boots.

"I know that seems like the right choice, but life doesn't work that way," Cora crooned, disappointment in her tone. "I implore you, leave this place.

"No, Regina. Stay here," Henry's trembling voice interceded from his place on the ledge. "Help your friends. She's trying to bait you…"

"I didn't come back just to help my friends," Regina insisted. "I came back to help everyone."

"That's not possible," Cora sneered. "You have to trust me."

"Let him go," Regina begged softly.

"Oh, please listen to reason. Listen to me. Either way, my time in the Underworld is done. Yours can be, too. Just do what I say.." Cora demanded — and there was desperation in her tone, and Regina didn't fully understand why.

"Henry, stand back," Regina said softly, pushing her son back from her and stepping forward towards her mother.

"Please don't force my hand," Cora begged, backing away from her daughter, bracing herself for somethign. "I don't want to do this."

"Then don't," Regina begged, not understanding what the underlying issue was. But there was something clearly at work.

"I'm sorry," Cora whispered, and without hesitation, she waved her hand, the fire lifting from the pit and swirling around her husband, pulling him in.

Regina shouted and rushed forward onto the ledge, but stumbled back, stopped by a wall of fire.

"One day you'll understand," Cora explained from behind her, and waving her hand again, she disappeared in a cloud of magic.

"Daddy," Regina whimpered, watching helplessly as the fire encircled him completely. "I'm so sorry," she cried — for the hundredth time the day.

Henry said nothing.

But the fire began to pull back from him, and his posture slowly became more certain.

"Daddy?" Regina called again, this time softer — less frightened and more confused.

"Stop. Stay there," he begged, not wanting her to come any closer, desperate to keep her from hurting herself. "I'm okay," he promised.

And as he turned back to where the fire had just lifted from, a while light began to appear, the ledge suddenly growing longer — a bridge.

"What's happening?" Regina asked, tears staining her cheeks.

"I don't know," he confessed, but he pressed on, taking a step onto the bridge that had not been there a moment ago.

"It's so…It's beautiful," he whispered, standing in awe of the brilliant light before him

Regina breathed out deeply, one hand cradling her belly, the other to her side, keeping her balanced as she stepped forward just a bit further.

Her father turned to look at his daughter, so changed from her past, and he smiled. Walking back towards her, hoping to comfort her one last time, he held his arms out to her, holding her firmly in place, grounding her — as he had always done.

"I know now what my unfinished business was. It was you," he said with a smile.

"For so long, I let your mother get in the way of who you really are. It was the biggest regret of my life," he confessed. "But now…you're free of her. And I've never been more proud." he said softly, grinning from ear to ear.

"Hi," Henry interrupted timidly, stepping up behind his mother.

Regina's father's eyes went wide and as he took in the figure of the boy at her side, his gaze darting back to his daughter. "Is that…" he began, his heart soaring.

"This is your grandson," Regina whispered proudly, her deep brown eyes glittering behind a veil of tears. "This is Henry."

She said his name with deep pride, because she knew what this would mean to him. Her son had taken his name, in his honor. And Regina's very soul was shaken at the realization that these two men had helped shape her into the woman she was now — perhaps more than anyone else in her life. Her father had raised her alongside Cora, gently instilling a sense of duty, encouraging her to explore forgiveness and hope. And her son had shown her unconditional love at a time when she was ready to receive it. He had guided her to the realization that her past didn't dictate her future, and being a 'villain' wasn't as black and white as storybooks made it seem.

"Thank you, Grandpa," Henry said with genuine gratitude in his gaze. "For believing in her like I do."

Regina's heart broke at her son's words, and she turned to look at him with deep love in her eyes. She was crying freely, her lips pulled into a sad smile — but a smile none the less.

"Thank you, Henry," the older man spoke softly. "For being there when I couldn't."

Regina was trembling, feeling both weighed down and lightened by the outpouring of love from these two men in her life. She stood glassy eyed, staring at her father, trying to memorize his face — because she knew in her heart that this was goodbye, forever.

"You take good care of her," Regina's father said with a nod, turning over his shoulder, back toward the light pouring from the walls of the cave.

"It's time for me to go," he admitted softly.

"Daddy, no," Regina begged, but she knew she couldn't keep him there forever.

"I love you, Regina," the old man sobbed quietly. "Never forget who you really are."

Regina nodded, and was only half aware of her son taking her hand. She let out a breath, hiccuping softly as she watched him go. He was swallowed by the brilliant, beautiful light, and a wave of peace washed over her. She lifted her free hand to brush away a tear, staring at the place where her father had just been standing.

She was determined to continue making him proud.

Walking back into the center of the twisted town, Regina held her son's hand and leaned into him slightly. Their pace was slow and solemn, but her eyes were smiling — and for that, Robin was grateful.

They'd all been waiting there, unwilling to move on without the entire group, and there was shared relief passed between them all to see that Regina was safe.

"Tell me your father's okay," Snow begged hopefully.

"He's better than okay," Regina promised, finally releasing Henry's hand, and bringing hers against her belly.

"He's in a better place now," Henry explained, smiling when he felt Robin's hand on his shoulder.

"Wait…that means that everyone here…" Snow began.

"Can be saved," David finished.

"Every soul in this town has unfinished business. And chances are, for a lot of them, we're that business," Regina suggested. She knew she was pressing her luck with this hinted suggestion, because more than anyone, they all wanted to get Regina home — sooner rather than later.

"You've all deluded yourself if you think these people are worth your time," Gold chimed in angrily.

"They're not the dearly departed. They are dead, wretched souls, and I want no part of it."

"What you want doesn't matter," Emma interrupted. "I wasn't bluffing — I'm happy to tell Belle about your return to Dark One-ness."

"Our agreement was to find your pirate, and get the Hell out of here" he reminded her, his emphasis on 'hell' tickling himself enough to grin. "If you want to distract yourself with this other asinine pursuit, be my guest. I'm out."

"So," Henry said with a half smile, adjusting the straps of his backpack, reminding them all that he was still just a boy.

"Who's ready for Operation: Firebird?"

"Is that what we're calling it?" Regina asked with a laugh.

"You referring to the mythological bird? Or the muscle car," Emma teased, crossing over to her son and wrapping her arm around his shoulder. They walked ahead, leading the way. And Snow and Charming followed happily behind.

Regina and Robin walked slowly together at the back of the herd, Robin turning when he felt Regina slow her steps. She turned to look at the fallen clocktower, and she beamed proudly when the time ticked forward, one minute ahead.

Cora entered the old library, and activated the elevator switch with an easy spell. It clanked heavily and shook as it sped wildly down, down, down — landing with a thud. The doors opened and she stepped out nervously, feeling her stomach turn as the sound of classical music grew louder with each step forward.

"Did you hear that Cora?" Hades asked with a smile, leaning back in his throne-like leather chair. At his feet was a woman in rage, feverishly filing his toenails.

"The clock," he explained. "Did you hear that little tick up there? It was the sound of your incompetence."

"Why do you want my daughter gone," Cora asked, shaking her head, wishing that this had gone any other way.

"What threat could she pose to you?"

"You see…each clock tick means a soul has left my domain. Do I look like I like to lose anything?" Hades asked with a sickening grin.

"I did what you asked," Cora pressed on. "I didn't want to…I jeopardized my relationship with her.."

"Yes, because you thought you could get her to do what I wanted, which you couldn't." Hades chuckled darkly.

"If it makes you feel any better, she's going to regret her decision," he offered, now laughing without hesitance.

"Don't threaten her," Cora demanded — though she was in little position to do so.

"Really, Cora? I'm surprised you care so much about Regina…especially after what you did to your other daughter," he reminded her, quite pleased with himself. "All so you could claw your way out of the peasant life. Which. Suggests the perfect punishment."

With the flick of his finger against his wine goblet, Hades transformed Cora back into the woman she once had been — the version of herself she hated the most. A Miller's daughter.

"Look at that," Hades cackled. "A miller's daughter, once again. Hurry now, Cora…you have flour to deliver. That's what they do at mills, isn't it? I never paid much attention. Seems like such dull work."

"No…" Cora begged. "You promised you'd save her…"

"And you promised not to fail," he reminded her angrily. And he stood from his chair and closed the space between them, the magic crackling all around him and stinging like shards of glass.

"Something to think about….for eternity," he laughed.