The air was heavy with a damp, thick mist. The seaside town often was plagued with fog that rolled off the marina and hung stagnant in the air. Normally the dewy weather was welcomed in this kind of police work as it made it easier to find shoe impressions in the forest that surrounded the city, but this time they weren't looking for someone who traveled by foot.

The flat heels of Emma's knee-high leather boots sunk into the soft earth. Each step was made more laborious because of the moisture in the forest ground. She lamented the mud that now caked the bottoms of her favorite shoes, but she knew she would get no sympathy from her current company.

Regina had called upon the assistance of Robin Hood and Little John, and she, Emma, and David now scoured the forests that surrounded Storybrooke in search of the winged monkey.

David stared at the ground with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. He had been unusually quiet since they'd left the sheriff's office earlier that afternoon.

Emma nudged him in the side. "Hey, what's up?"

"I failed you, Emma. It's a father's job to identity poor suitors. I should have known there was something off about Walsh."

"It's not your fault," Emma assured him. "I was with the guy for nine months without ever suspecting anything was wrong. He fooled us all."

At her words, she flicked her eyes to Regina who now walked beside Little John. Regina hadn't been fooled. She'd tried to warn Emma-several times-but each time Emma had ignored her, denied her, was too stubborn to see Regina's caution as anything but a selfish refusal for Emma's happiness.

Emma was upset about Walsh. But she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that Regina's pronouncement and the hasty ensuing kiss weighed more heavily on her mind as they trampled through the forests of Storybrooke in search of the winged monkey.

Emma was forced to stop when the sleeve of her wool jacket tangled on the thorny reach of a low shrub.

Noticing her struggle, Robin sprung into action. "Here. Let me help you with that."

"I'm good," Emma insisted.

She tugged violently to wretch herself free before the chivalrous woodsman could assist her. She grimaced when she heard the sound of fabric snagging and ripping, but she managed to escape the prickled bush on her own.

Robin offered her a soft smile before returning to the front of their small caravan.

Regina waited for Emma to catch up with the group. "Everything okay back here?" she asked benignly.

"Perfect," Emma lied. "Why is he here?" she asked, nodding in Robin's direction. The man had stopped to stoop and inspect the soft earth.

Regina shoved her hands into the pockets of her wool coat. They'd been searching fruitlessly for Walsh for hours and the damp chill in the air was starting to affect her. "Because he's a tracker. He knows these forests. He's currently our best resource."

"I'm good at finding people," Emma practically pouted.

"You use computers to find people, Emma. This is out of your element. And that's okay," Regina assured her.

Regina shuddered suddenly. Her entire carriage wobbled with the force of it.

"What's wrong?" Emma asked, full of concern.

"Nothing." Regina withdrew her hands from her pockets and blew on the icy skin. "I'm just cursing myself for not planting Storybrooke someplace warmer."

Unthinking, Emma grabbed Regina's hands and began to rub them between her own to generate heat.

"How are you so warm?" Regina wondered aloud.

Emma shrugged. "I've always run hot."

"Indeed," Regina quietly murmured.

The low burr of Regina's voice made Emma shift her eyes to the ground in discomfort, but she continued to hold Regina's hands in her own.

Regina hadn't exactly ignored her since the kiss only a few hours earlier, but there was nothing in her demeanor or their interactions to suggest it had ever happened. Regina had been business as usual, which was starting to make Emma feel like she'd dreamed up the whole thing.

"I still don't like him," Emma said for only Regina's ears.

"Quiet."

"I'm allowed to have an opinion," Emma stubbornly insisted.

"No, not that." Regina rolled her eyes. "I thought I heard something."

"I heard something, too," Little John chimed in.

The canopy of trees above them seemed to part in an instant, and a large winged animal swooped beneath the rolling fog and scooped Little John off of his feet.

The dark-furred monkey jetted into the air and hovered in place with Little John dangling from its clutches.

Regina produced a ball of fire, and it hovered in her palm. "I've been waiting a long time for this, monkey."

"No!" Robin yelled. "You might hit Little John!"

"I know what I'm doing!" Regina snapped back, but she didn't throw the magical flame.

"Walsh!" Emma hollered loudly. "Let him go!"

The winged monkey seemed to look to Emma first in hesitation, but then his glowing eyes came to rest on the dark-haired woman standing beside her and he released a high-pitched shriek that had them all cringing and covering their ears.

Little John kicked his legs back and forth, wildly scissoring them in the air, but his struggle was futile. The winged beast had its long talons sunk deep into the man's meaty shoulders and refused to let go.

The group could only watch in horror as Emma's near-fiance carried their friend away.

"Walsh left, didn't he?"

Emma stared at her inquisitive son. She'd returned to their rented room feeling chilled to the bone and discouraged that not only had their search been unsuccessful, they'd now lost Little John. The group had given up for the night with the promise to resume their search in the morning.

Emma tried to be as honest as she could with her son without revealing too much. Henry had always valued honesty. "Walsh and I...we had a parting of ways. I don't know exactly where he went, but I think it's safe to say he's not coming back."

"Are you going to be okay?" Henry asked.

"Oh, Henry."

Emma felt her chin and bottom lip start to quiver. Henry had grown up to be such a sensitive, conscientious boy: a son she was so terribly proud of. But she hadn't been the one to instill those characteristics in him-Regina had done that.

"I'm going to be okay, yes. But what about you?" she asked, turning the question back on him. "Are you okay with all of this?"

Henry shrugged noncommittally. "I liked Walsh okay. He was the first guy you ever brought around me, so I guess I thought he was special or something."

If being a winged monkey makes someone special, Walsh was the most special of them all, Emma thought to herself.

Henry swung his feet back and forth over the edge of the bed, making him look younger than his teenaged years. "Are we staying here for good?" he asked.

"In this room, no," Emma regarded her son and his open, earnest face. "What do you think of Storybrooke so far?"

"To be honest, I haven't seen MUCH beyond this room and Miss Mills' house."

Emma frowned at the truth in his words. "I know, kid. And I'm sorry about that. But that's going to change soon."

She was still achingly cold and in need of a warm shower to thaw out her bones, but she grabbed her jacket to go back out again.

"Will you be okay for a little bit?" she asked. "I've got to go meet up with someone."

"I'd be doing even better if I had the new PlayStation," Henry grinned.

"Not a chance, kid."

Regina was eating a piece of lasagna leftover from the dinner she'd hosted the previous evening. She sat by herself at the end of the grand table in her dining room, swirling the contents of her nearly empty wine glass around and around, mesmerized by the centrifugal motion of the ruby red liquid. She had gotten used to eating alone, but she still insisted on eating at the dining room table rather than sitting in the living room, hunched over and eating off her lap in front of the television. She had standards to uphold, after all.

Family dinner with Henry had once been her favorite time of the day. Knowing she would be returning to her home and to Henry's boyish energy and infectious smile had gotten her through her worst days as mayor when all she'd wanted to do was set Storybrooke on fire and watch it burn to the ground. Henry's excited chatter about what he'd learned that day in school had been her reset button. But all of that had changed when Emma Swan had shown up in Regina's town, driving that wretched little yellow Bug.

She couldn't help that her thoughts by default seemed to drift to the blonde woman. Regina had become obsessed with the woman she was certain would be her ruin. She just hadn't expected that ruin would be in the form of another broken heart.

She'd kissed Emma Swan. Regina took the final sip from her wine glass and let that thought flow over her mind like the wine bathed her tongue. She'd kissed Emma Swan.

The kiss had clearly surprised Emma—Regina had been surprised herself. Even though she had thought about it too many times, she had never thought she'd actually act upon those impulses. And now that she had, she had honestly expected more of a reaction or response from Emma. Regina had dismissed the kiss and had told Emma they needed to find Walsh first, but when had Emma ever obeyed her orders?

The sound of the doorbell pulled Regina from her thoughts. She left her unfinished plate of food on the table to see who was at her front door.

When she answered the door, Regina felt her chest tighten. "Emma," she breathed.

Emma stood, looking awkward on her front stoop, as she had so many times before. "Hey. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

"No, of course not. I was having dinner, but I can always reheat it. Are you hungry?" she asked. "I've got leftover lasagna."

Emma placed her palm against her abdomen. She hadn't eaten since her curtailed breakfast with Walsh that morning. She hoped her stomach wouldn't choose that moment to betray her.

"No, thanks. I can't stay. I just came by to tell you I can't do this anymore. Not to you and not to Henry."

Regina frowned. "Can't do what, dear?"

"Be here. In Storybrooke. I did my Saving already. I'm all saved out. I thought I was doing the right thing by coming back, but now I'm not so sure."

Region's frown deepened. "Is this because I kissed you?"

"What? Of course not."

"Then why this sudden change of plans?" Regina demanded. "I thought you were going to stick around until we figured out who was behind the second curse?"

"I was fooling myself to think I could be the Savior and Henry's mom," Emma answered. "I have to do what's best for Henry. I took him away from school and his friends for what? He's cooped up in a room above Granny's all day long because I'm afraid someone's going to slip up and expose this place in front of him. And now there's a flying monkey going around and scooping people away. It would be different if he had his memories. I could warn him about what's happened—I could protect him. And it's unfair to you, too, Regina," she continued, "to have him around without him knowing who you are to him. Don't pretend it's not killing you."

Regina was quiet for a moment before giving her response. "You sound like you've given this a great amount of thought," she said carefully.

"Not really," Emma admitted. "I've always kind of lived by the seat of my pants. I guess I just recently got clarity on all of this."

Emma could see the fine muscles in Regina's jawline flex and tense.

"When will you be leaving?" Regina tried to school her tone as she schooled her features, but it didn't work. She hated how needy and desperate her voice sounded to her own ears.

Emma looked away and raked her fingers through her hair. "I have to talk to Henry about this still. But in the morning, I guess. We had a real good thing going in New York, ya know?"

A stubborn lump had formed in Regina's throat. She had to clear her throat several times to dislodge it. "Yes, I remember."

"You can still visit whenever you want," Emma insisted. "I'm just trying to do what's best for our son."

Regina brought a closed fist to her mouth. "Is there anything else, Miss Swan?"

The corner of Emma's mouth twitched. "No. I guess not."

"Then have a good night. Do drive safe," Regina clipped before shutting the door.

Regina pressed her palm flat against the back of the door. Her head felt too heavy for her neck, like she no longer had the strength to lift it. The downward pull of gravity threatened to drop solid, salty tears on the sterile marble tile of her foyer, but she wiped them away with the back of her other hand before they could fall.

"Don't do this," the self-preserving part of her brain warned her. "Don't be a fool. She'll still leave you in the morning."

"Oh, shut up," her heart replied.

She reached for the door handle and pulled.

TBC