A/N: Again thank you for the follows and favorites. Look, look. Actual Regina/Emma conversation. I know I'm amazed I got there too!

Again, questions/comments/thoughts/concerns are welcomed. I hope you enjoy!

Emma isn't there when I wake up. For a few moments I think I dreamed her, but then I see the duffle bag carelessly strewn on the floor beside the chair. I sit up a little in the bed. Somebody has brought a new jug of water in; it's placed on the tray to the right of the bed. I'm just pouring myself a glass when she comes back.

"You look like shit." Emma says leaning against the door jam, sipping at coffee that clearly came from the cafeteria.

"You don't look so hot yourself." I tell her. Its very Emma to just say what she thinks. Anybody else would have danced around the subject. Not Emma. As subtle as a sledgehammer, as always.

"Yeah well , I slept in a crappy visitors chair all night. What's your excuse?" She asks plopping back into said chair unceremoniously.

"Cancer." I respond. I shouldn't smirk like this at her. But God. If I can't cut the bullshit around her then I'll be putting on a front for the remainder of my dwindling days. It's the remark that wipes that cocky grin off her face. Bravado dissipating in an instant.

"Shit Regina." She shakes her head and puts her coffee down on the night stand next to my make-up bag. "How did – Why didn't you-"

"I tried. I've been sending you letters for the last ten years. I assume you finally got one." I shrug. There's an elephant in the room. I want to see how long she can dance around it.

"I didn't open them." She doesn't look at me, but picks at the cuticle on the index finger on her right hand. "I kept them all. I just. I never opened any of them. Until yesterday."

"Well. Better late than never." I laugh bitterly. She looks up at me and starts to scowl.

"Can we not. Just for the next –" she glances at the clock on the wall, "twenty minutes."

"Fine." I relent, taking a sip of my water. We'll have to talk about this sooner rather than later. I don't have the time to drag it out.

"So, when did you – how did you-" She stutters and starts, its unbecoming. I've never known her skirt around what she really wants to say.

"I found a lump in my breast over a year ago. I had it removed, but it had already spread to my lymph nodes." I explain, watching her face. She's back to picking at her cuticle.

"But that's treatable right?"

"I've had everything thrown at it. It's not going anywhere. I'm dying. I've accepted it."

"But surely-" She starts, but I cut her off.

"Emma." She looks up at me finally. "I'm dying. It's ok. We all have to do it some time. My time just came around quicker than I wanted it to."

"But"

"You'll get used to it. I have." I tell her with a shrug. Keen to move on to the heart of the matter. "So are you going to ask me?" I ask tenting my fingers together over the sheets.

"Regina." She warns.

"He's doing fine by the way." Its hostile I know, but I don't have time for softly softly.

"I didn't come here for this." She stands and makes towards the door.

"So what did you come for? Pity? You know how I feel about pity Miss. Swan." She stares at me for a few seconds longer than I anticipated before storming out of the room. I'd be worried, except her car keys are next to my refilled water jug.