Author's note: Oh, God, it's been a while, hasn't it? In my defense, I blame another story for this delay...

Also, thank you to Marie for betaing this chapter, for pertinent comments and all around kindness.

Much love

Jane

Chapter 12

So this was what self-loathing looked like: a body melting into the shadows of a dark and damp prison cell, more a prisoner of herself than she had ever been of anyone else.

Emma did not do rejection well. She had that in common with Regina. For once though, she did not lose her shit and stayed. She was not sure why. She supposed it was whatever she was feeling, that thing that still made her teeth itch to name it out loud. Maybe it was that; but she did not take it to heart, that dismissal. She walked out of the cave and stood out of sight, sneaking glimpses of Regina, listening to the silence. There were no tears, no sobs, no crying, no screaming. Regina was as composed now as she had ever been as mayor and were Emma not feeling whatever it was she was feeling that made her teeth itch to name it out loud, she would have believed every single word Gold had uttered in that court room.

But she was feeling it, that whatever-the-name-was and, whatever the name was, it ensured that she saw not just what was apparent but what was hidden. It allowed her to hear not just what was said and the tears that were cried but to listen to the words that were not said and the tears that did not fall. It was fucked up and if she had had any choice she would have preferred not to feel any of it because she did not know how to deal with those things. That thing that made her teeth itch to name out it loud was the stuff of fairy tales and her life was anything but.

She was not hardwired to understand and live within that mind frame.

She chewed on the word and then chewed a bit more. It was unpalatable and difficult to swallow and yet, there was nothing else that came to mind, no other explanations, no other excuses.

Regina stayed in her corner and wrote something in that notebook that James had brought with her things; when she was done, she rubbed at her neck as if it was sore and then climbed into the cot, the food untouched.

Would it make it easier if Regina cried and sobbed apologies, if she told sob-stories of how bad it had been for her and how she had come to be what she was?

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"I owe you, Leroy."

"You don't owe me anything, sister." He tossed a sleeping bag at Emma's feet and pulled out his thermos of coffee. "You want some? Then go home."

It was like leaving a part of her behind and she hesitated once again about leaving. But Regina was right at least about one thing: Henry. He needed a mother and she had managed to be even less of one these days than all her other days in Storybrooke. But having behaved so appallingly, she now did not know how to approach him and pick up the slack.

She walked into town. She needed the walk. She needed to clear her head and make sense of the clusterfuck that was her life; how much she was managing to let every single person down: her son, her mother and father, Regina. Her friends. She was trying so hard to be there for one that she was messing it up with everybody else. Life was far simpler when she had no one in it.

And yet, having tasted real affection once, she did not want to let it go.

What a mess.

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There was not much to Storybrooke to be walked in case of need. Henry tried walking off the heavy feeling at the pit of his stomach but there was nowhere far enough. He ended up with a guilty ice cream in his hand (he had pocket money enough and no one asking him what he'd done with it- enough to buy the whole ice cream truck if Storybrooke had had one) and walking into Dr Hopper's office.

He knocked and even though he did not quite expect to be welcome, Dr Hopper opened the door with a welcoming smile. "Hi, Henry."

The ice cream had lost its appeal the moment he got his hands on it and so he just took it to the waste basket before sitting on the couch of his old humiliation. It was difficult not to resent his mom for it, for the years of therapy that gave other kids fodder for bullying. But at least he now had a sort of friend in Dr Hopper. Or not, it was difficult to know who was still too scared of his mom to tell her – or him- No. He second guessed himself, but Dr Hopper just put a hand on his shoulder and sat next to him on the same couch. He did not ask Henry what was bothering him, he just sat there- two lonelinesses keeping each other company.

"Why did she say that?"

How do you go about explaining to a child who has always had everything, who has always been loved that his mother probably was not as lucky? Archie pulled his glasses to his handkerchief and spent a few good seconds trying to formulate an answer. Particularly because he had not seen it. And he should have. He should have seen something because he was a conscience. That was his job, to see the workings behind the actions. He had failed her. And no matter what she had done before, he'd failed her every day for twenty eight years.

"What do you think, Henry?" Good grief, he hated himself for being such a gutless cliché.

"She was scared, I think." Henry thought back to his mom held half a body above the floor, turning white, white, white until what was there was not her, but someone else that he did not recognize. "But scared in a way… like she's been afraid all her life and… I don't know… like someone did really bad things to her and it was happening again."

"Why do you think_"
"Dr Hopper?" The reasonable tone of the doctor was one of Henry's pet peeves.

"Yes, Henry?"

"Can we talk like you are not a shrink? Like, friends, I guess. No notes, no asking me about my feelings or what I think. Just talking."

Could he? It was much easier to just concentrate on others rather than himself. He hated looking at himself. He had spent a lifetime running from what he was, from his guilt. He put his hands to his face and rubbed it vigorously, trying to garner some courage.

"I'll try. Like friends."
"Do you think someone hurt my mum?"
Friends have a responsibility to the truth, don't they? Is that not what he tried to teach Pinnochio? The truth above the consequences? "I think so, Henry. I think someone hurt her a great deal."

"When she was little?"

"Why do you believe that? I mean, why do you think it was when she was little?"

"I don't know. Not really. My book never said anything about that. But she just sounded so… little."
"Henry, some parents are… well, they do not treasure their children." Oh, god, he wished he was not so very hopeless. He was better as a cricket than he ever was as a man.

"Why do you think it was her parents?"

"Fair question. I'm not sure. Maybe because when I was a child, my own parents were not the best they could be. They were mean and selfish and that leaves a mark that is… well, recognizable."

"Like a scar?"

"Like a scar, yes." The silence stretched. Archie was unsure of what to do next. This fell off the script of his life and "expertise" and once again he found himself floundering. "Henry?"

"She never hurt me." Archie turned on the couch, his whole body listening because Henry's words were just so small. "She did those things and I hate her for it but she never hurt me." And there was something else. Something Henry was not quite sure about. "Archie?"

Dr. Hopper waited him out. One thing he knew from experience: some things you need to work out on your own, chewing and mulling until you can swallow them. "Do you think she regrets it? I mean… do you think that if she regretted it, it would be ok to… I dunno… like her again?"

"Henry, if we are speaking as friends, then I think I can safely say she does. And I that liking someone does not depend on how good they are. We all have sins, Henry." Archie sighed all the words he'd ever wanted to say, all the amends he'd ever wanted to make coming out that night. "When we live long enough, we all have sins. Some of us just hide them better."

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Sydney prepared for bed. He had a trial to attend in the morning. A deposition to make. He pressed his suit, took a brand new tie out of a plastic bag, and inspected the starched tie with care.

That night he slept like he had never slept in all his forgotten years. Tomorrow was the day of reckoning, the day he recovered his manhood.

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Emma had half a mind to stop by Granny's and get through a good few fingers of Jim Beam before she faced Snow and James. Before she faced Henry. She was not in the habit of facing her failures, always in the habit of running before they caught up with her.

Go be a mother pinged around in her head though, and maybe she should just go and be a grown up about her choices.

Yes, she had all those feelings for Regina that made her teeth itch to name them out loud and yes, she did not want to have to explain herself to her parents and her son but she did have them and there was a responsibility that came with those feelings. She stopped at the crossroads for a second, cementing her decision, and then turned towards Mary Margaret's flat. Snow's. Hell. Home.

Ahead of her, going in the same direction, Henry walked with Archie's arm over his shoulders and for a moment it gave her pause, how young her son really was and how much she was expecting from him in all of this. If she could not even name it without her teeth itching, what possessed her to think that Henry of all people, could hold all of her expectations on his shoulders?

The bottle of Jim Beam was growing more and more appealing, but she quickened her pace because this was either sink or swim and called out "Hey Kid, wait up."

She was not sure why she should have expected the kid to turn around and just run into her arms. But she did and it disappointed her when he did not and it hurt a hell of a whole lot. But at least he waited.

"Archie was walking me home."

"Thanks, Dr. Hopper."

"My pleasure Miss Swan. Good night, Henry."

"G'night, Archie. Thanks… for everything." Archie inclined his head in acknowledgement. He had some thinking to do, things he had successfully avoided for many years. Things the curse had mercifully obliterated from his memory.

Henry and Emma turned to walk home. Both struggled for words. It seemed, Emma thought, seeing the kid trying to work through something in his head, they were more alike than she had even realized.

"Emma?"

Her hand came around his shoulders, because she needed the contact. And that was very strange, because she was not used to needing affection like this.

"Is mom OK?"

"Not really, Henry."

Henry should have known because he had experience: just because you talk about things, it does not mean they will get better.

"Henry, I wanted to say something… Apologize. I want to apologize." Henry stopped then. He made no move to free himself from her arm around his shoulder and having seen him doing it to Regina more times than she could count, she was thankful he didn't do it to her right there and then. She was not sure she was at a place where she could just get over it. "These last few days… I've… hell, I've abandoned you again, didn't I? I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Henry did that thing he always did with her: he turned to her and buried himself in her embrace, no questions asked. And every time he did it, she found herself lacking, because, really, what had she done – ever – to deserve such uncomplicated affection? She hugged him back.

"Is mom OK?"

"No, Henry, she's not."

"How do you do it?"

"What?"

"That. How do you… love her, knowing what she did?" Her teeth itched again, but she found she could not deny it anyway. Henry looked at her straight in the eye, that unflinching look, waiting for an answer. Waiting to be shown how to do the same.

Emma took his face in her hands, his arms still around her. "I don't know. I just do. She's not so much worse than everybody else. Everyone is hiding something. She's just handy for most people to hang their sins around her neck."

"Archie said sort of the same thing."

"Yeah… seems to be the theme song. She loves you."

"I know." He stopped walking them, the street dark around them except for the small pools of light of the public illumination. "I just…"

"Feel guilty for loving her back?" His breath itched and restarted his walk.

"I guess. Don't you?"

"Yeah. Sometimes. But I figure that the ones that need our love the most are not always the ones that deserve it best. It's easier to be good when life is peachy."

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"Your Majesty, the reserves are scarce. We are wasting them every time we open that cell. There is no fairy dust in this world. There are no diamond mines, no working dwarfs. When what little fairy dust we have runs out, we will not only not be able to open that cell, but we will have nothing left to tend to whatever emergencies we might have."

Snow stewed. There are things like that, aren't there? Things that are exactly what you want but conflict with what you expect of yourself. She turned to James because he was her rock anyway. He knew her as well as she knew herself. He anticipated her in many ways.

Honestly, she would not lament Regina never coming out of that dank hole in the ground, but she was a queen and she was a fair queen. She did not want to replicate the ways of the Enchanted Forest here. Not when she knew better now.

"She is entitled to her trial, Blue. She has the right to be heard, to hear what is being said. How long will these reserves last?" James held Snow's hand as she spoke. He knew his wife. He knew her chapter and verse. By heart. She had a good heart, but there was so much resentment in it that it was hard to do the right thing. Sometimes she just needed a little help being good. "How many more times will the dust open the bars?"

"Three, maybe four times if we are very careful."

"That's not good news, Blue. The prosecution is not over yet and Emma still has the right to defend her."
"The defendant has a right, I think you mean, Your Majesty?" The Blue Fairy took exception to the words. "Because you are not just indulging a princess. You are doing it because it is the right thing to do, correct, Your Majesty?"

Sometimes he doubted. He knew Snow did, too. They owed Emma so many kisses, so many little indulgences, that, at times, it felt like they were trying to condense it all in this one thing so that she would still- or would again- love them. As if they were trying to buy her affections. "Yes, the defendant. Quite right." Snow slumped into her chair just as the key turned in the lock and Henry, followed by Emma, made it inside.

It was all Snow could do not run to her child and hug her. She had moments like this, where emotion overwhelmed her. And after the day they'd had, with Geppetto, especially on the stand, she needed that embrace more than anything. Emma must have known because she went to her mother and, not quite slumping on the floor close to her, pulled her mother into a fierce hug. "I missed you."

It would have been easy to think she meant only the days since she had last slept in that pretty little apartment they had shared, but they both knew that it meant all the years since Emma's birth. "You too," Emma turned to James. "I missed you too." Which caused him to tear up a little. He pushed discretely at the tears because men don't cry even if they're holding their guts in the palm of their hands, and hugged his baby. He could do this forever and would require nothing more from life.

It was not as difficult as she would have imagined, this affection thing. She was lucky. Her family loved her in this uncomplicated way, no demands, no tantrums. So easy. Come on, come in, get a hug, some warmth, some comfort. No big deal. Just the usual.. She liked this. She was thankful for this.

"We have a problem, Emma."

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Emma did not sleep that night. It was almost as though they'd reverted back to those days they had been promised the bars would not open again. She walked through the apartment, a lonely specter and ended up in the kitchen, Henry equally unable to sleep.

"Hey kid."

"What are we going to do, Emma?" She heard the we and soaked it up. It might not give her any answers but it made her feel less alone.

"Dunno…"

"If the Prosecutor finds out, he will delay it enough that he will use up all the days…"

God, the kid had a sense for politics that surprised her. Then again, he was as much Regina's son as hers. It was not surprising at all, in fact. "Better make sure he doesn't then. And speed things along. We have three days. 'Cause the fourth she has to come out."
"Do you think they're going to let her out?"

Oh were it that she could say with all certainty that yes, Regina was walking out of this, out of that cell. She crossed her fingers and gave him her best optimistic smile. "Let's just keep that fourth, OK?"

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The most important things are the hardest to say. Words diminish them. The words that seem so powerful in my head, on paper or out in the open, they lose their brilliancy, their shine. They become just words. Where is the power of words? Is love the greatest magic of them all? I cannot blame the bars around me or the collar at my neck. Maybe it is not for me to live it.

Maybe this magic was not ever meant for me.

The gods are cruel. Sometimes they makes you live.

I was a princess once, Emma. Now it's too late for knights on white horses.

.

.

"Whatcha you writing in there?" Leroy kicked some imaginary pebble on the floor.

"My escape plan."

"It wouldn't kill you for once to say something real, you know?"
"Oh? Have the dwarves been appointed the new guardians of the truth?"

"I'm a guardian of nothing, sister. But I am here and I'm guarding your sorry ass from the fools that would cross my princess and have you on a spit roast… so, you know, make it worth my while."

"You wish for entertainment, dwarf?"

"Is that all I am to you? A dwarf?" Oh, she was tired. She was tired and it took so much energy to keep the persona up. There was once a time the Evil Queen was her. Now it seemed, it was only a poorly fitting disguise. "Cause, you know, I'm not really sure."
"What would you have me entertain you with?"

"This thing with the Sheriff… Is she like… your true love?"

"I… why would you assume that? Maybe I'm just using her."

"Maybe. She's not that dumb, but you never know. I saw the way you look at her."

"And how would that be? I can only assume I look at her like the person that stands between me and the spit roasting."

Leroy considered the woman. Sitting there in that miserable cot, in the dark of her prison, she was not at all like the Evil Queen of those years when they had declared war on evil. She seemed beaten down, downtrodden, finished. Hard as he tried, it was hard not to feel the tug of sympathy. Even if she was trying her best to be at least a little of the menacing she'd once been.

"Is it true?"
"I'm sure it is."
"Don't you even want to know what I'm talking about?"
"I'm just saving you time."
"Damn you're a tough one. Is it true that you had another true love once?"

Regina tried hard not to slump into the wall. That barely holding it together was gone with Leroy's question. She could lie about many things. She had. She could deny many others. Which she also had. Manipulate and cover up, obscure and colour the truth. But Daniel was the one thing she could not deny, lie about, cover up. He was the best part of her. The only good part of her until Henry.

"Yes."
"What happened?"

"He left."
"You're lying." Regina gave away something between a sob and sigh.

"He was taken from me." There was silence for a second while Leroy considered.

"Do you think it was the truth?"

"Why are you so concerned with the truth now, dwarf?"
"Have nothing better to do, I suppose. Well, do you?"
"What?"
"The Dark One. Do you think he loved that girl?"

"Let me assure you, Dwarf, that monsters we may be but we are still quite capable of love."

"Is that why you…"

"Became evil?"

"Yeah…"
"Theories abound. But most sustain that I was born this way."

"I loved someone once." Despite herself, Regina moved on the cot, closer to the bars.

"And?"

"Let me ask you: Do you think that there are people that are meant to never have love? Like, to see others love and feel it but never, ever be… allowed to?"

"Isn't love weakness?"

"The hell do I know? The moment I tried, I was put right back in place. No… I don't… I think love gives you wings… like a caterpillar. You go from ugly and unsightly to a butterfly. A caterpillar may be sturdier than a butterfly, but a butterfly sees more, does more, lives more…"

"Did you love, Leroy?" Leroy shrugged.
"I'm a dwarf. Dwarves don't love. Dwarves work." It was Leroy's turn to swallow the knot in his throat.

"That's a lie."

"l messed it up."

"On your own?"

"Yeah, no, I had help there. Your jailer, she has a tongue on her. Smooth and sharp like a knife." Regina inhaled and drew her own conclusions. Some things you don't need -spelt out for you.

"Was it true?"

"What, is it your turn now?" He paused because she pulled back, her earnest listening back into a shell of fear. "Is what true?"

Sometimes all it took was courage. "Were you once called Dreamy?"

"It was a stupid name."

"Dwarf names are always accurate."

"That one was for a time. Until it wasn't."

"What happened?"

"My butterfly wings feel off. Turns out I was meant to be a caterpillar all along."

"Did it change you?"

"Nuh, I'm still my sunny little self." And he leaned back against the bars. "Wouldn't you just kill for a drink?"

"Poor choice of words…"

"There's only me here, sister. I'm in no hurry to jump into conclusions. But for my money…"

"Yes?"

"If you got a good thing going, don't let nobody curdle it for ya."

"Leroy?"

"Yeah…"

"Thank you."

"Just go to sleep now, queen. I'm all talked out."

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It took Regina a moment to understand where she was. A fundamental part was missing and that took far less time to identity. She was missing Emma like she would miss a leg or an arm. She didn't quite know how to do this without Emma there. Her mere presence made it bearable, worthwhile. She was not afraid when Emma was there because Emma was her prize. A prize for surviving this long, a reward. And because she gave Regina hope. Emma was her hope.

So she sat for a little while trying to understand her decision, trying to stick by it. No, it would not be easy. She had lost the ability to do what was best for somebody other than herself. She knew then that she would have to struggle with her decision every second that Emma stood next to her. She could not let Emma fall any deeper. This was a slam dunk case and it would not do to let Emma close to her only to hurt her later when her fate had been signed, sealed and delivered. And most particularly, she could not allow herself to hurt Emma. Every minute Emma spent close to her was a minute she spent looking at the abyss. And one of these days the abyss would look right back and there was no telling what then.

She put on her turtleneck because her fate was sealed but she'd be damned is she was going to give the Blue Fairy – or anyone else by that matter - the satisfaction of so much as the blisters around her neck from the collar she wore every day. Then she sat to wait.

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Henry walked with Emma into the cave, nervous like he was on his first day of school. He grabbed Emma's hand and it was almost as good as holding his mom's hand that day.

"Deep breath, kid."

He hadn't really seen his mom like that before, behind the bars. When he'd been at the cave before, everything was fresh and angry and he had barely spared her a look, so bitter he had been at Emma's betrayal, so happy that he had been vindicated.

He looked at the woman sitting there on that cot, in black clothes that were hanging off of her as if they were not her own and it broke his heart. And still, he would not run to her, because he was still working out how to do that and not lose sight of what she was. And what he was.

She did not hear him until he called her from inches away. She lifted her head then as if she was not quite sure it had been real. God, he missed her and he hadn't even known until then. "Hi Mom."

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"Henry!" Emma stood a little ways back because she wanted to give them both this moment. She saw Regina stumbling into the bars, falling into Henry, starved of him, tears already gathering in her eyes. But as she made to touch, as she made to cup his face and kiss him, she pulled back. She pulled back abruptly. Emma recognized the same flinching from the courtroom. She recognized the same withdrawal, the same self-imposed distance.

Henry grabbed her hand just as Regina was pulling away. It was a strange turn of events, but it made her proud of her son- even if all that the kid was, he was thanks to Regina, and there was not much of her in there to feel proud about. Henry pulled the hand he had grabbed on to and pulled Regina to him. It seemed her decision was not as strong as Henry's small hand.

"I missed you, mom."

Regina surrendered then, she leaned into the bars and reached out for her son. "I'm sorry, Henry. I'm so sorry." She took Henry's hand and brought it to her heart, beating wildly in her chest, because, Emma knew, all other words were failing her.

Emma wiped discretely at a tear. The wedge between Regina and Henry was not her doing, but she had added to it substantially with omissions and words, actions and absence of actions.

The Blue Fairy walked in at that point. She was early. She was damned early. And there was something about her that was a lie but, again, Emma honed in on the general feeling but it was as if she was capturing the signal through a defective antenna because she could just not understand what the lie was.

The woman smiled that sweet smile of hers that made Emma want to hurl, and greeted Henry with a hand on his should that the kid instinctively shrunk from. Good boy. Maybe he had gotten the lie detector from her. She'd have to talk it over with him.

The Fairy opened the door to the cell.

"Don't let her close to your queen, sister, she'll make it go sour." Leroy quipped, rolling his sleeping bag.

Emma's head snapped to him. "Sour?"
"Yeah. She has a way with words. Don't let her word you out of here. Or word your queen out of you."

"What do you know, Leroy?"

"Nothing sister. Just a feeling, that's all. Us drunks have instincts, s'all."

"We need to talk, Leroy. Don't go AWOL on me, 'cause we need to talk." Leroy snapped a salute.

"Yes, boss." And then he was gone.

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Sydney pressed his lapels against his chest and tried to calm down his wildly beating hear. The breathlessness, the thumping in his chest… was this how a dog felt when it bit the hand that fed it?

Either way, regrets wouldn't do. He'd had enough time for regrets in that mirror. Regrets and love, well, they were a powerful potion, were they not? He was about to serve it with a side of betrayal. Hers and his. They were not so different as she might think.

When he sat in front of that room of people, his mouth went dry and he briefly considered making a swift escape. He lacked, more often than not, the courage and the follow through. But the Prosecutor already had him in that chair and he stood between Sydney and the door, leaving him no space to flee. He cleared his throat and twisted his hands in his pockets. The prosecutor had forbidden him to drink. "Clean nose, Sydney" he had lectured him like a 5 year old. The pompous ass.

"So, let me get this straight." George enunciated because he was not quite sure Sydney's blabber had been understood. "His Majesty, King Leopold gave you your freedom and took you to his court." Sydney nodded. "Where this… villainess" he pointed dramatically at Regina, "ensnared you with tears and false promises." Sydney nodded eagerly, avoiding looking at Regina. "And, against your own moral code, against your debt of gratitude towards the kindness of the king who freed you from your bond, you simply fell in love." Sydney had a brief flash of those dogs with articulated necks on the dashboard of old ladies' and young girls' cars, nodding and nodding as the car moves through the potholes. "And, cannily using those feelings against you, the Queen manipulated you into bringing into the palace that with which she killed the King."

No, Sydney simply could not look at her. Truth was not black and white. And he was coloring it. But she deserved it. He knew in his thousand year old bones that she deserved it.

"Tell the court, Sydney, in your own words, what did she use to kill the king?"

"The viper of Agrabbah." Sydney's voice lowered considerably, to a deep staccato tone that spread through the room like stories told at the fireplace. "A magic viper from my land. A viper so poisonous it kills with one single bite."

"What was the intention behind the choice, Sydney?"

"Obviously, to blame me for the King's death."

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Snow felt herself go cold at the memories. The genie had been blamed. The genie had fled the kingdom, cementing his guilt, who else was there to receive the blame? It was not until the edict for her head had been proclaimed by the Hunter that Snow made the connection. She could still feel the chill of her father's skin on her fingers when she touched him in that coffin.

There were things she could eventually learn to forgive. For Emma's sake if nothing else. And there were things for which she would never forgive Regina. Or herself. She leaned back on the chair because she felt she could no longer breathe, that there was no more place for poise and grace under duress. She remembered Regina's first years at the palace, the gaunt face, the dark circles under her eyes. The way she flinched when her father sat for dinner at the same table. And she would not forgive herself how she had made believe that everything was ok just because she had a mother. Things had happened to the mother she had chosen, like you chose a doll, things she had grown over, grown around and never grown enough to question her father's role in.

Maybe Regina had killed her father. And what made it so difficult to breathe was that if she been more attentive, less spoiled, more of a daughter to Regina, maybe, just maybe, her father would have been spared.

At the time, she just didn't want to feel any less about him. Father was her everything and she did all she could to keep him that way.

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Regina was terrified of Sydney's presence in "court". There were, after all, things worse than death. And one of them was Sydney revealing things she had confided in him back then, things about her life with Leopold. She wanted him out of that seat. Desperately.

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"Is that what happened?"

"Yes."

"But you did escape."

"No. She trapped me in a mirror."

Emma went through an inventive string of expletives in her mind. That was a lie and it did not take her super power to see through it. Sydney, unable to lower his voice any further without muting it completely seemed to have developed a stutter and a cough all in one second. Choke on it, you bastard. And then Regina's hand slid into hers, their fingers entwined and there was warmth in the gesture. Emma's throat constricted painfully.

"It's not true." She spoke softly, barely a sound, but her head was high and she was facing Sydney and staring him down. "He wished his one wish."