This Game We Play

by kirkmills

A Murder. A Visitation. A Family Dinner. When the citizens of Storybrooke are shaken by a mysterious but deadly invite, Emma finds herself heading up the investigation on a seemingly unsolvable case. Though the Sheriff of Storybrooke would probably rather face the strange spirits invading her town than the toubles of her own personal life. SQBB April 2014.

4. The Gnomes in the Forest

It's a cold, windy November day in Storybrooke, Maine, and Kathryn Nolan is enjoying spending it inside. She's got a casserole in the oven, a nice bottle of wine, and a good book to read. It's peaceful in her new house – right out in the forest – but after everything she's gone through over the past few years, it's a welcome break.

She's just nestled herself in under a blanket, book in hand, when she hears it. Laughter. The high-pitched, pealing laughter that could only come from a child. Only it doesn't sound quite right. As it comes again, Kathryn finds that it sends a shiver right down her spine.

She gets up from the couch, listening for it again as she walks towards the sound. She follows it to her back door, and almost has a heart attack when she sees a small child outside it – clothes ripped and bloody, face contorted in a strange kind of glee.

He blinks up at her, tilting his head to one side. "Let me in?" he asks, and then proceeds to rattle the door handle with much more force than a child his size should be able to. She jumps, and starts to back away.

The rattling gets louder.

"Let me in," he says again, this time more forcefully. She backs slowly into her kitchen – straight into another body – and screams, turning to face the intruder.

"I'm not here to hurt you," he says calmly, "I'm here to give you some advice."

She recognizes him vaguely – has seen him about town – but she's no idea who he actually is.

"Advice?" she asks warily. "What advice, why?"

He chuckles, casting a glance to the door. It's shaking dangerously, the glass panels rattling loudly. "Because all things considered, your death would simply become an inconvenience."

She stares at him, wondering vaguely where the closest kitchen knife is. "My death?"

"Is certain – if you don't heed my advice," he continues.

"And what advice is that?" she asks carefully.

"The gnomes are a sign the children are coming – and if you want to live, you'll have to burn the children."

With that he turns on his heel and strides out of the kitchen – she hears her front door shut a moment later. She stares after him incredulously, positive she's just had an encounter with an escaped lunatic from the asylum – but then the door rattles again – and stupid as it might be, she starts to search around in her kitchen for the blowtorch she uses for cooking.

She grabs a bottle of gin too.

The door eventually flies open, the thunder-faced child stalking inside – heading straight for her.

"I want you to play with me," he says, eyes wild, and she sends up a silent prayer before throwing the gin and directing the blow torch's flame at him.

He doesn't burn – not like a human would. The flame consumes him and then burns out, leaving nothing behind. He does scream though.

She shuts the door again quickly, peering into her garden. There's a large circle of painted, china gnomes there that she most definitely did not buy – and suddenly the mysterious stranger doesn't seem so crazy. After that, she keeps the house completely locked, blowtorch by her side – though she sees no more children.

She doesn't go outside again until the party that Snow has rung and told her is compulsory. She doesn't complain – it's probably about time she warned people about the gnomes appearing all over the forest floor anyway.

.

.

.

"Who was he?" Emma demands as they reach her car. "Who was the man?"

Kathryn shrugs apologetically. "I don't know. I recognized him, vaguely – but I don't know him."

"Well what did he look like?" she asks, trying to remain patient. Whoever it was is most likely behind this – can most likely stop this. This is it, this is the best lead she's had for the entire case – and it's not a moment too soon.

"He…I…"

"Kathryn I know it's hard," she says, "but please, please just think."

"He was tall," she offers, frowning as she apparently tries to remember him, "thin, but not too muscly."

"Good," Emma encourages, "what else?"

Kathryn takes a breath, closing her eyes. "Blonde hair – but not light, more sandy. Maybe with a touch of ginger. Like strawberry blonde?" she says it like a question, but it pulls Emma up short.

Because that does sound like someone.

That sounds like Fred.

"Gray eyes?" Emma asks, and Kathryn's eyes light up in recognition of the description.

"Yes, yes – do you know him?"

The blonde nods lamely. "Yeah I think I do."

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.

.

They pull up outside Fred's apartment and Emma doesn't waste time trying to think things over – Regina's out there, god knows what happening to her – and she doesn't have time to waste being logical anymore.

She hammers on the door loudly, aggressively. "Fred? You in there? You better open this door or I swear to god I will –"

The door opens and Fred's standing there, in a dirty tee and sweats, two days of scruff on his face and looking thoroughly un-Fred like.

"Emma?" he asks accusingly. "Did you know too?"

She frowns in confusion, anger bubbling barely containable within her. "Know what?" she snaps.

He looks upset – broken, almost. "Jake," he says, sounding pained, "Jake's dead."

Oh. She'd forgotten he didn't know that – or did now, apparently.

"How did you find out?"

"Ruby let it slip accidentally," he replies, sounding a mixture of broken and bitter, "I can't believe you guys didn't tell me."

Emma scoffs. "And I can't believe you didn't tell me you're a murderous psychopath – so I guess we're even," she spits out.

He looks up at her, eyes widening. "You know?"

Her mouth falls open. "You're not even gonna deny it?"

"Well depending on how much you know, that would probably be a little pointless wouldn't it?" he says despondently. He sounds almost childish.

"I know that my friends are dying and apparently you're responsible," she growls, backing him up against the wall, "now tell me how the hell to call this thing off?"

He frowns. "To call what off?"

"The summoning, whatever it is. Tell me how to stop it."

"It'll remain inactive without the third sacrifice," he shrugs, "the breach won't be fully opened."

Emma pulls him forwards and then slams him against the wall again, harder. "Don't try and bullshit me, Fred, you know me well enough to know it won't work."

"Bullshit you? Emma I'm not –"

"The third sacrifice just happened," she yells at him, "so tell me what to do."

Fred's eyes widen. "What?"

"I said, the third sacrifice just happened and now Regina is missing and you are gonna do whatever the hell you have to to stop this!"

"Oh my god," Fred's head falls back against the wall and Emma stares at him.

"What?" she snaps.

"Emma I didn't do this," he sighs and she lets out a bark of derision.

"You just admitted to it."

"I was doing it – okay? But then when I found out about Jake I…I realized it was my fault he died and it snapped me out of it. This isn't who I am anymore, and I never should have let this happen in the first place – but we decided, god, she agreed we wouldn't take it any further."

Emma looks up at him in complete confusion. "Fred, what the hell are you talking about? If it's not you then who's doing this?"

He sighs, closing his eyes and then opening them again, looking defeated. "It's Lilly."

Emma laughs, but he just looks at her. He's dead serious – and her lie detector isn't pinging. He's telling the truth he's actually…

She takes a staggering step backwards.

"No," she shakes her head, "no it…it can't be this is…that's ridiculous."

Fred just looks at her sadly. "Emma, I'm sorry we –"

"No!" she shouts at him. "No! You guys did…Lilly isn't…" her breathing's gone funny again and she can't see straight.

Lilly's been by her side this whole time, helping with the investigation, babysitting her kid. She's been practically the most helpful member of the team. This can't be right.

"Emma I know this is…I know that you probably hate me a lot right now – I certainly hate me right now – but if you're right and the third sacrifice has been made then –"

"Then what?"

"Then everything's going to hell," he says, looking genuinely upset by his own words, "and we need to get to the breach."

"Is that where Regina will be?" she asks a little desperately, and he nods.

She sets her jaw, looking him up and down.

"Fine – and that's at Kathryn's house, correct?"

"Yes."

"Alright then – one more thing."

He raises an eyebrow in question, then she turns and delivers a powerful right hook straight to his jaw.

"And don't think that's all you're getting," she spits out, "if I had cuffs on me you'd be in them Frederick Bana. Now get in the car."

Fred takes it wordlessly – which she finds distinctly unnerving – and walks out in front of her, climbing into the front seat of the Bug where she can keep an eye on him.

"How long does it take to get to your house Kathryn?" she asks the woman perched nervously on the backseat.

"Five, ten minutes," she shrugs, and Emma turns to the man beside her.

"Okay, Fred, you've got five to ten to tell me everything and hope that I don't shoot you at the end of it – so spill."

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.

.

They're not meant to be in Storybrooke. They're not meant to be a part of the curse. It just so happened that their latest portal had taken them to Wonderland right before the curse hit – they'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or the right place at the right time, if you were looking at it from Lilly's point of view. Portals from Aeternum had never opened up onto this world, and in Lilly's head – once Lilly's head had been her own again – it was a rare opportunity not to be wasted. Their duty, she said, as the Shifters.

But Fred disagreed. Fred liked being alive again, being human. He liked the freedom to feel the warmth of human flesh beneath his fingers, to have control over himself. He liked baking and lucky charms and tinkering and electricity. Most of all though – he liked his adult brain, his adult body. He liked his boyfriend Jake – he loved his boyfriend Jake. He loved life in Storybrooke, and Lilly loved her brother. So they'd let it go. They'd agreed to live a normal life as normal people – until Fred had decided that he had to admit the truth to Jake and his boyfriend hadn't taken so kindly to the idea that his lover was an immortal child-like spirit, so he'd broken up with him.

And Lilly had been right there, waiting, with a perfect plan ready to put into action at Fred's word. And Fred, hurting and bitter, had let the tortured child inside him take control for a minute – and his word had been yes.

Then two days ago he'd learnt that Jake had been killed – died because he'd been bitter and selfish – and suddenly he'd remembered that this wasn't who he wanted to be anymore.

He doesn't want to be an Aeternia Spirit, leeching the life out of other people to keep the twisted child he'd been born alive. He wants to be a person. One who grows up and falls in love and eats lucky charms.

He'd told Lilly to call it off, to stop, and she'd agreed. Foolishly, it seems, he'd believed her.

.

.

.

"Okay wait back up I'm confused," Emma says, "you're from where?"

"Aeternum," Fred says patiently.

"And that is…"

"Think of it like hell for children," he replies, "only with less punishment and more…celebration of sin."

Emma raises her eyebrows. "Celebration of sin?" she asks pointedly.

Fred sighs. "Aeternum isn't where good children go – it's where all the twisted, warped ones end up. The ones who killed their hamsters or their puppies…or their mom."

The blonde swerves the car unintentionally. "It's where all the Chuckies go, that's what you're telling me?"

"Actually," Kathryn pipes up from the backseat, "Chucky was a grown up serial killer stuck in a child's doll – so this is kinda the other way round."

Emma throws her a look over her shoulder, and the other woman leans back again, shutting up.

"So the people who're ill they're –"

"If the spirits touch you it creates a psychic link," Fred explains, "after that they're able to drain you of just about everything you are. It's how they feed."

"So it is about energy? I was right?"

"Yeah Lilly said you'd worked that out." His mouth pulls up into a tiny smirk. "Man she was pissed about that. Anyway, yeah, since what they're taking is pretty much life energy – the more you have the longer you'll last – the longer you'll be able to fight it."

"And is there a cure?" Emma asks, voice hard.

"Not if the spirit's still alive – no spirit is willingly going to give up a victim. They don't always feed that often – but when they do they're hungry."

"But if the spirit dies?" she presses.

Fred shrugs. "I've never seen it happen – people don't tend to fight us. But I assume that if the spirit dies then the energy might be returned to the victim – or at least it would stop being stolen."
The blonde bites her lip – that's not totally hopeless. There might be a way.

"Kathryn said her garden's where they're coming through," Emma starts as they turn onto the winding track that leads up to the other woman's house, "are we gonna have to fight them off or what?"

Fred shakes his head. "I doubt there'll be any coming through there now. The first two sacrifices are what open the breach, let the first ones through – but the third one tears it wide open. They'll probably be coming through all over town now, not just in the forest."

Emma nods as they pull up into Kathryn's drive, and she starts to get out of the car, but Fred's hand on her arm stops her. "Emma, wait."

"What?" she bites out, trying to shrug his hand from her arm.

"You need to know what you're about to find," he says, voice apologetic, and the worry that she's been trying to suppress comes bubbling to the surface again.

"What d'you mean? I'm going to find Regina."

"No," his face softens in apology, "no, I'm really sorry, but you're not."

It's not worry, it's sheer unadulterated terror. She can't listen to him – she shouldn't even trust him. She wrenches her arm away from his grasp and jumps out of the car, running around the back of the house to the garden.

When she gets there, she stops short, heart leaping to her throat.

Regina's there, but it doesn't look like Regina's there. She's in the center of the gnomes – arranged in a circle just as Kathryn had described – head lolling back and arms thrown wide, bright white light consuming her. There's a pealing, childish laughter echoing around and bouncing off the surrounding trees, and the garden feels colder than it had been out front.

"Regina!" she screams, without thinking, and makes to run – but then Fred's there holding her back.

"Let me go," she spits out, "let me go I have to help her."

Fred grimaces. "Emma, she's not there right now. She's just a channel."

The blonde turns frightened eyes to him, heart pounding. "But she'll come back right? Once the summoning's over? She'll be okay?"

The man's eyes soften in apology and she feels her heart stutter. "No. No. She'll be okay she has to be."

"Being a channel burns you out – by the time the summoning's finished there'll be nothing of Regina left," he whispers, sounding ashamed.

Emma stares him down, vaguely aware that her eyes are damp. "Well we're here to stop the summoning anyway," she says firmly, turning her head to look at him. "So how do we do that?"

His eyebrows knit together in a way that doesn't instil her with confidence. "Once it's at this stage there's only one way."

"And what's that?"

"Killing the channel."

The blonde lets out a little desperate dry sob. "No." She shakes her head. "No there has to be something else," she looks up at Fred, pleading, "please Fred, there has to be something else – tell me. Tell me what else I can do. Please."

His eyes flicker from Emma to Regina and back again, looking distressed.

"For Jake," she whispers – not caring if that's low or manipulative. As far she she's concerned he deserves it.

His face falls slightly, looking defeated. "There's one other thing that I've heard of," he starts warily, "but I don't even know if it's true – and it's never done because it's normally considered worse."

"What is it?"

"You can send her soul to Aeternum," he admits, looking torn at even telling her.

She frowns, not really sure she's understanding him right. "What?"

"The point of the channel is that it provides a path for what would otherwise be raw spiritual energy," he explains, "killing the channel gets rid of that path and then no more can come through – but sending the channel's own soul through…you create a kind of black hole effect. The whole thing will collapse in on itself – or so I've heard."

Emma stares at Regina for a moment, then turns back to Fred. "Would she be alive?"

He throws up his hands in a gesture of uncertainty. "Honestly I have no idea what would happen to her – I spent over a thousand years there and never saw an adult. The spirits there all died as children – I don't even know if adult souls can go there."

"So what are you saying?" she asks angrily, pretty sure she knows already – but needing it spelt out for her. If she tried to write her own name right now she'd probably need that spelt out for her too.

"I'm saying I don't know if her soul would survive – or if it did whether it would remain the same. But then if you kill her, then you've killed her. She'll be dead for definite."

She screws her eyes shut, biting down hard on her lip.

This is pretty much an impossible decision – and neither option has an outcome she even wants to think about, let alone face as a reality. She doesn't know what to do.

Except she does, because it's obvious. She can't kill Regina – not just outright like that. She has to give her a fighting chance – has to do whatever selfish thing she can to keep even a part of her alive.

"How did this happen?" she asks quietly, needing to wrap her head around it. "A few days ago she was just Regina and she was herself and now – now you're telling me there's nothing I can do?"

Fred looks down at her sadly. "Emma I…she's been doomed since the first sacrifice," he admits quietly.

"What?"

He sighs. "Okay look – the way it works with channels is that you have to cast a spell on them, but it'll only work if they're emotionally vulnerable at the time of casting – that's what lets the spell take hold of their souls. Once the first sacrifice has been made the spell on them is activated, from that point on their soul's no longer their own."

"So, what, you're saying she might as well have been dead this whole time?" Emma asks, voice rising in disbelief.

Fred shrugs. "In a way – they're still themselves, just like the people who've been touch by the spirits are themselves – until they're not."

The blonde gapes at him, trying to wrap her head around the fact that this fate had been coming for Regina for weeks, and they'd had no idea. She wonders lamely if – had they known – there'd have been anything they could do. There's no point dwelling on it though, she can't afford to wallow right now.

Emma's eyes widen in sudden understanding at something. "That's why Ashley…to make her vulnerable enough to let the spell in?"

"I guess so," Fred nods, "I wasn't really involved in that part. Lilly did all the planning."

"What do you mean?" she asks angrily. Her heart's beginning to race – and she's pretty sure she's having a nightmare, because this really can't be happening.

"I didn't make the plan, Emma, it was all Lilly. I didn't even know she'd gotten Ashley involved – or Regina," he clarifies quickly.

The blonde just stares at him. "I don't…I don't understand surely you knew what had to be done?"

"Three blood sacrifices, a channel, and anchors," he recites robotically, "that's all you need. Everything else was just…Lilly being Lilly."

She frowns. "Lilly being Lilly?"

He exhales, rubbing at his right temple. "Lilly has – shall we say – a certain flair for the dramatic."

Emma opens her mouth to question him further, but there's a slightly manic laugh from the tree line, and all three of their heads snap up to see Lilly, crouching there – looking disturbingly like a tiger ready to pounce.

"Oh come on, bro – you can't deny it was entertaining," she grins. "All those other little worlds where we had to snatch children in the dead of night and hide their bodies in ditches – but not here. This place was practically made to be my stage."

The blonde's eyes widen. She hadn't quite believed it – that sweet, helpful Lilly was behind it all – but the girl's looking at them with a glint in her eyes that's barely human. Suddenly, she doesn't look like Emma's friend and deputy – she looks like a mad woman, one who Emma can easily believe capable of all this.

"What d'you mean?" Emma asks carefully – if there's one thing she knows about crazy people, it's that if you keep them talking long enough they might just tell you everything you need.

"This little town," the redhead sighs, a delighted shiver running through her body, "with all of you trapped inside it – I could do anything I wanted and you couldn't run away. For once we were completely in control of the game – not scavengers hiding in the night."

"That's what Murderer was about?" she asks, a little disgusted.

"I just wanted to see the panic on your pathetic mortal faces," she spits, "I wanted you to see that I was two steps ahead of you this whole time. Wanted to see you all scared before my brothers and sisters came to kill you. I wanted you all to know what was coming for you and not be able to run."

"But it didn't work," Emma laughs, "no one knew what was coming for them, none of us even knew what the children were. Your plan failed."

Lilly smirks, taking a careful step towards them. "You think they weren't scared? – all those people dying? You think that Hannah Montague wasn't petrified as she felt the life seep out of her?"

Emma winces.

Lilly chuckles, taking another step closer. "You think that Jefferson wasn't terrified when he felt that hand brush against him – knowing what was coming for him? They're all petrified, Emma. They all die alone, helpless, and screaming inside from the terror. You have all been scared since Ashley sent that first invite. I would know," she adds, "I've been right there by your side."

The blonde glowers at her, unable to move.

"How did you know about the town hall?"

The redhead gives a short bark of laughter. "Because you're all so pathetically predictable. When you're panicked you herd. Like animals. It was an easy assumption to make."

"What about Ashley?" she asks weakly.

"What about her?"

"Why her?" she doesn't know what good it will do, but she has to know. "And why Regina?" her eyes flicker to the brunette. She's not unaware she needs to do something, but she doesn't know what Lilly's capable of – if she'll be able to get around her.

"Ashley was my little stroke of genius," she grins to herself, "the sacrifice requires a sinner, Emma. So I thought to myself – why not create my own?"

Emma's eyes widen at the redhead, mouth hanging open.

"You're a complete psychopath," she breathes.

"No," Lilly laughs, "no – I just like games – and you played along to mine so very sweetly."

Emma feels anger burning white hot within her. She opens her mouth to say something, anything, but she can't even find the words.

She finds herself moving forward, feet carrying her towards the redhead with furious determination – but Lilly dances out of the way, backing up into the dark tree line of the forest.

"I'm sorry, Emma, but you'll have to excuse me," she beams, the expression completely unhinged, "I have a feast to get to."

With that she turns and runs.

Emma's first instinct is to fly after her in pursuit – but she can't leave Regina. She scrabbles in her pocket for her cell, pulling it out and dialing the first number her fingers make it to.

The phone rings once before someone answers it. "Emma, where the hell are you?" Ruby shouts at her over the screaming and shouting in the background. "There's more of them – they're everywhere. Everyone's freaking out, it's chaos – we need you here!"

Emma shakes her head. "Rubes I…I can't."

The girl's voice rises an octave, "What do you mean you can't? You're the Sheriff!"

"Yeah and the Sheriff is trying to figure out a way to stop this," she snaps impatiently. "That's not what I called about."

"Then what is it?"

"Lilly," she chokes out, voice full of anger and betrayal.

"Is she with you? I couldn't get through to her cell."

"No, Rubes it's…it's Lilly."

Ruby laughs, but it's humorless and unamused sounding. "Very funny, Emma, but now really isn't the time for practical jokes."

"I'm not joking, Ruby," she snaps, eyes flicking to Regina's unconscious form, to the whiteness consuming her. "She and Fred they're…they're –"

"Aeternia spirits," he supplies and she glares at him.

"Really fucked up," she settles on, "so if you see her – you arrest her, d'you hear?"

"Ye…yeah," Ruby's shock is evident from the way her voice has lost all anger. "But, Emma where are you?"

"I'm at Kathryn's," she says, eyes fixed on Regina, "we've got kinda a situation of our own over here."

"Okay, well, stay safe," Ruby mutters and Emma nods.

"Rubes one more thing – I need you to call Whale and take him round to the Clock Tower," she instructs, feeling a little sick at the thought of what they'll find. "Whatever you do, don't let Tom come."

She hears Ruby start to argue, or at least question her – but she doesn't have time to explain. She hangs up and shoves her phone back in her pocket, turning to Fred.

"Okay," she says, fixing him with her best 'no bullshit' stare, "tell me what to do."

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.

.

Emma's shaking, and sweating. The wetness on her face might be tears as well, but she can't concentrate on whether they are or not – she has more important things to concentrate on.

"I can't do it," she says, shaking her head, "I can't. I've hardly even produced a fireball, certainly not on my own – how am I supposed to do this?"

Fred looks at her sympathetically. "I don't know, Emma, I'm just telling you how it has to be done."

"Yeah," she nods, still pacing, "through magic. I get that."

"If you don't think you can do it –"

"I have to," she snaps, "I won't kill her. I can't."

How she's going to do it, though, she's no idea. She wishes desperately that she'd listened to her parents and learnt how to control her magic. That she'd listened to Regina and believed she personally had nothing to fear from it.

The man looks to Kathryn and then back to Emma. "We might be able to help you – just to let you draw on some energy from us – but unless you have a storage room full of spell ingredients then I can't help you."

Emma frowns. "Wait, what do you mean – you could do it instead?"

"Not without looking up the spell and finding all the ingredients – the magic Lilly and I do is different to yours and Regina's. We use the power of words and objects – but your magic is a part of you. It's a force that comes from within."

"Like love," Emma breathes, more to herself than anything.

Fred shrugs. "If you say so. I really don't know much about how your magic works."

She turns to look at Regina again, heart twisting. "You have to think about what it is you're protecting," she recites the words, spoken to her what seems forever ago.

The irony that those words were given to her as advice when Regina was the one she was protecting people from is not at all lost on her, but she doesn't feel like dwelling on it.

"You need to tell me exactly what needs to be done," she tells Fred, a sudden sense of calm washing over her. She knows what she's doing – she's protecting Regina. Magic is emotion, Gold had said, and she finally understands her emotions towards the woman.

She knows why she protects her without thinking, why she flirted unconsciously before she'd even realized she was into her. Why her arms hold the most comfort and, most of all, why she's so capable of annoying the fuck out of her. It's because she loves her, and she's realized too late.

Regina's not there, not really, and Emma can't tell her she loves her. Can't apologize for accusing her, for not trusting her. She can't apologize for the heartbreak and hurt she caused her. All she can do is suck it up and try to do this one thing, this one last thing to keep her alive.

"Tell me," she says again, when Fred just stares at her in confusion, "what's the process? What exactly needs to happen?"

"You have to tear her soul away from her body," he answers apologetically, "then cast it through the breach."

"What will happen to her body?" she asks, trying to remain calm. She can't lose it, not yet.

He grimaces. "It'll just be a shell. There'll be nothing of her left."

Emma takes in a ragged breath. Keep it together.

"Okay," she flexes her fingers agitatedly, trying to stay focused, "and what exactly will her soul look like?"

Fred startles. "Wha – I…I have no idea."

"Brilliant."

"Emma you don't have to do this," he says carefully and she turns on him.

"Yes," she snaps, "yes I do – and that's thanks to you and your psychotic sister so don't test me right now, Fred. I can't just let her die."

He stares at her a moment then nods. "Kathryn come here."

The other woman looks up from where she's biting her nails nervously, and eyes him with a deep suspicion.

He sighs. "I'm not going to hurt you, Kathryn," he promises, "but Emma might need us to draw energy from. What she's about to do is incredibly draining – if she even can do it."

"Not helping," Emma grits out.

"Sorry."

She ignores him, walking cautiously over to the glowing circle.

"Don't step inside," Fred warns, "I don't know how easy it is for people to fall through the breach."

Regina doesn't look like Regina like this, and she doesn't want to see it. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, standing just outside the circle.

"We're here," Fred says, nudging Kathryn to stand on Emma's other side, "use us if you need us."

Her jaw tightens. "Oh I will do," she snaps, "believe me."

Then she screws her eyes shut tighter and blocks them out. She blocks out the eerie sound of laughter, the buzz of the energy pouring through the woman in the circle before her, she even shuts out the sound of her own breathing.

In her mind she examines the woman before her, searching her for something intangible. It would really help if she knew exactly what she was looking for, she thinks, but there's nothing she can do about that.

.

.

.

She imagines herself surging forward, her mind slipping into Regina's – and then suddenly she's surrounded by bright white light, and an almost unbearable buzzing sound.

She turns, looking around, and sees her. There's a young girl – no more than eighteen – huddled up with her hands over her ears, eyes screwed shut.

Emma walks over to her, crouching down to eye level. It's Regina – that's obvious – but younger than Emma's ever known her. She's cowering, afraid, and Emma gently pries her hands away from her ears – forcing her to open her eyes and look at her.

"Emma?" she greets her, voice small.

The blonde offers her a watery smile. "Hey."

"What's happening to me?" she asks, brown eyes wide with an innocence Emma's never seen in them – she wonders absently if this is the Regina that was, before she became an evil queen and cursed kingdoms.

"Am I dead?" she asks, with an anxiousness on her face that makes Emma's stomach twist.

"You're dying," she answers, biting back on the emotion in her throat. She's not going to lie to her, not after all the pain she's already caused.

The young Regina's eyes go a little blank and she nods. "Okay."

"No, no it's not. I'm not going to let you die."

The brunette's brow furrows. "Then what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to send you away," she breathes, "somewhere really far, but somewhere where you'll still be alive."

"Are you coming too?"

Emma bites her tongue, hard. "I can't."

"Oh please," a voice says from behind her and she whips around, ending up face to face with a Regina more the age she knows her – only this one's clad in tight black leather, with dramatic eye makeup and a sneer on her face. "You could if you really wanted to – but you don't. You're happily shipping me off to hell and keeping my son for yourself."

Emma's mouth falls open. "That's not…Regina I –"

"Oh don't bother, Emma," she rolls her eyes, "why don't you just kill me and have done with it? It would be much simpler."

The blonde begins to panic slightly – this isn't how it's meant to go. She was meant to find Regina's soul and cast it out and then it was meant to be over. Not this, she looks down and sees white tendrils of light starting to curl around her. Then her head snaps up again. "You're not Regina," she realizes aloud "you're just the spell."

The Queen Regina smirks. "Clever girl. Regina isn't in here anymore – she's gone. So either do the same, or stay in here and lose your mind too." She raises an eyebrow. "Now wouldn't that be romantic?"

Emma shakes her head. "No, no she's still in here somewhere. I know she is."

The leather-clad woman glowers at her. "And how do you propose to prove that?"

The blonde stares at her feet, mind working fast, then her head snaps up again, face set in determination.

"Regina?" she calls, deliberately avoiding looking at the Queen. "Regina – if you're still here – then I want you to know that I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I doubted you, and I'm sorry that I hurt you, and I'm sorry for every word I've ever spoken against you – because the truth is that you and Henry are the best things in my life and I should have realized," she takes a large gulp of air, trying to breath around the emotion clogging her throat, coughing down the tears that want to fall.

"I should have realized so much earlier," she admits, "realized how much I love you – and I should have told you. I should have been telling you every day – but you know me," she shrugs, giving another watery grin, "I'm an idiot."

There's silence, a long weighted moment of it. Then a voice reaches her.

"You're my idiot."

Emma's head turns to her right, where the voice came from. Regina's there, her Regina. The sharply dressed mayor, looking unimpressed as ever – though there's a softness to her expression. But whereas the other two Regina's had been clear, in focus, this one's a little blurry – and there's a strange blue glow around her.

"Regina I –" she starts but the brunette cuts her off.

"Emma, it's okay. I know why you're here."

"You do?"

"I'm not as stupid as you are."

Emma laughs despite herself. "Dying, and you still can't let one go?"

Regina smirks. "You wouldn't love me if I could."

The blonde blushes. "You heard that?"

She nods, giving her a gentle smile. "I heard everything."

Emma takes a step forward but Regina backs away. "Emma, there isn't time," she says sadly, "if you're going to do this you have to do it now."

Emma frowns. She suddenly doesn't feel comfortable making this choice for the other woman. Not now that she has her here conscious – now she has to ask.

"What do you want me to do?" she questions, petrified of the answer she's going to get.

"I don't know," Regina whispers, then looks up – brown eyes wide, "Emma, I'm scared."

She wants to reach forward and touch the woman, but she's certain all her fingers will find is air. "If you let me do this – then I promise I won't abandon you," she says with surety. There must be some way to find her again once it's done.

"You won't?"

"No," she shakes her head violently, "whatever happens, I'll find you."

Regina smirks. "Like father, like daughter."

The blonde is about to respond, but Regina carries on, "Alright then," she closes her eyes, swallowing nervously. "Do it."

A fresh wave of panic washes over her. "I don't even know if I can," she admits, voice small, "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Yes you do."

"I don't, Regina. I should have listened, I should have learnt to control it and now I'm just going to end up killing you I –"

"Emma," she cuts her off calmly, "you know what you're doing – otherwise you wouldn't be inside my head."

She hesitates – that's kind of true – but surely that was the easy bit?

"What if I screw it up?"

"You won't screw it up, Emma," the brunette replies with conviction, "you're so much more than you give yourself credit for."

Emma shuts her eyes at the reassurance, taking a long breath. "Regina I –" but when she opens her eyes the other woman's gone, and she's alone in the blinding white.

Only she's not alone, there's a tiny ball of blue light hovering in the air – almost invisible against the white – but definitely there.

The blonde's suddenly absolutely certain she knows what a soul looks like.

She steps forward and wraps her hands carefully around the ball of light, trying not to panic. Fred said she had to tear the soul away, so that's what she'll do.

She tugs sharply and then all she can hear is screaming.

Emma holds the tiny light close to her for a second, breathing heavy, then does what she did to get here in the first place.

She thinks of what she wants to happen, thinks of why she's doing it – who she's protecting – and then the light is flung away from her, disappearing into the whiteness.

There's a second of stillness and then she feels herself being flung backwards, mind tearing from Regina's and back into her own body with a wave-like force.

.

.

.

Emma's eyes fly open just in time to feel her body being flung backwards too, hands wrenched away from the ones that Kathryn and Fred have had wrapped around them. She scrambles off the ground quickly, just in time to see the white ball of light at the center of the circle collapsing in on itself.

The gnomes explode, raining pieces of painted china all around the garden.

The blonde doesn't pay them much attention though, instead she's stumbling forwards to where Regina's body has been thrown, lying limply on the snow-sprinkled grass.

She's so exhausted she can barely stand, and she ends up having to crawl the remaining distance to the brunette, turning her over gently when she does.

She knows she's not in there, but it's still Regina – and this is all she has left of her. She pulls Regina's head into her lap, cradling it to her. She can't quite wrap her head around what she's just done – around the fact that Regina's gone.

Fred and Kathryn jog over to her, both looking a little exhausted themselves – and she wonders how much energy what she just did actually took.

"What now?" she gasps out, eyes fixed on Regina's still face, unable to look up at the other two. "What do we do?"

From the corner of her eye she sees Fred look around, running a hand through his hair. "I don't think we do anything."

She does look up then. "What?"

"It looks like shutting the breach broke the anchors – and without the anchors, the spirits'll be lost," he shrugs.

"Anchors?" Emma asks, glancing down to Regina's face – as if she might spot some sign of life in it – and then back up again.

"The gnomes," Fred replies, as if it's obvious, "did you think they were there just for decoration?"

Emma's mouth fall into a little 'o'. She'd known the gnomes were significant – that's what led her to Kathryn – but she'd never stopped to think why.

"So the gnomes…" she trails off, looking around at the pieces of shattered china, thumb stroking subconsciously across Regina's cooling cheek.

"Anchor the spirits to this world," Fred explains, "without an anchor the spirits can't take corporeal form. The anchor's what makes them what you see – the children. Without the anchors they're just scattered energy."

The blonde frowns, pulling Regina closer into her. "I thought that's what the channel was for?"

"The channel is the path," Fred says patiently, "but the spirits need something inanimate that will bind them to the land they're on whilst there – or else they'll just sorta dissipate."

"And that's what the gnomes are?" Emma asks, feeling more than a little overwhelmed.

"Yeah," Fred nods.

"Why gnomes?" Kathryn asks, folding her arms across herself.

Fred shrugs. "It doesn't have to be gnomes – it could be grains of sand if you wanted but Lilly –"

"Has a flair for the dramatic," the woman interrupts him, sounding unimpressed, "yeah, yeah, we get that bit."

Emma's stopped paying attention, eyes turning back to Regina's face. She needs to know what to do next.

"Fred?" she asks, and he comes to kneel beside her.

"What d'you need?"

"Tell me what I do now," she whispers, "tell me how to get her back."

The man's eyebrows rise towards his shaggy hair. "Get her…Emma you can't get her back."

Her head snaps up, green eyes locking onto gray. She must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?"

He shifts uncomfortably. "I mean…look, if her soul even made it, then she's in Aeternum. The only way out is a summoning."

"You got out," she shoots back quickly, aware that her heart rate has begun to race again, "you and Lilly."

"That's because we're Shifters – the oldest and strongest spirits. We have the ability to assume human form and portal jump to find places suitable for our brothers and sisters to feed. But there's no way a new spirit could."

Emma's hands freeze around Regina's body. "Then…what? We summon them, we find her," she says, brow creasing as she stares from Fred to Regina and back.

"Emma a summoning is exactly what we just stopped."

Her head starts shaking of its own accord, throat feeling tight. "No, no, there's…there has to be something else. Some way just to pull her through. There must be a spell or –"

"Emma there's no way to even know if she's still alive. I told you – no adult's ever been to Aeternum, her soul might have just burnt up."

"No!" she screams, surprising herself by the ferocity in it. "She's alive. She's out there and we have to…" oh god is she crying? She can't cry, she's got to keep it together. "We have to find her," her words are choked with the tears that seem intent on spilling from her, "we have to get her back," it's a desperate breath as it hits her.

What Fred's saying, what she's actually done.

She thought she was saving her, thought she was keeping her alive – but what if despite all that she's just killed her anyway? Or, worse, condemned her to an eternity as one of those things. There's a venomous rage boiling inside her, and in a moment she's dropped Regina's limp body and tackled Fred to the ground.

"You son of a bitch," she growls, pounding a fist into his chest. "You absolute." Punch. "Fucking." Punch. "Son of a." Punch. "Bitch," she cries.

Kathryn reaches out and tries to pull her away, but she shakes her off. "No!" she screams. "No! This is his fault. If it hadn't been for him none of this would ever have happened!"

She lands a punch to his jaw – right where she had earlier – and he winces.

"Emma this isn't going help," Kathryn says, sounding a little scared.

She's not really thinking straight – else she probably wouldn't be doing this at all – but she doesn't care. All she can see is Regina's large, scared eyes. All she can hear is her own promise to find her.

"You made me lie to her." she snarls, though the tears finally spilling from her eyes make it less angry and more pathetic. "I promised her I'd find her."

She attempts to hit him again but she feels weak and instead her hands just end up slapping him without much force. She's practically hyperventilating now anyway, and instead of continuing in her vain attempt to make him feel as much pain as she is, she drags herself off him and crawls back to Regina's body.

She hears him get up behind her, start to move cautiously towards her. "Emma I –"

"Don't," she snaps, "just don't. Leave me alone."

"Em –"

"Just get away from me!" she yells. "Both of you just – just get away from me."

She knows – on some level – that she's being a little irrational. That she's really angry at herself – for doing this to Regina, for making a promise she apparently can't keep. She's disgusted with herself that she's the reason the woman she loves is just a lifeless shell in her arms.

Kathryn certainly doesn't deserve her rage – but just at this moment she can't quite bring herself to care.

She can see Fred hovering to her left, one hand holding his ribs, eyes fixed on her. She won't look at him though, she can't look at him.

"Come on, Fred," she hears Kathryn say.

"But –"

"Leave her. She wants to be alone," the other woman says a little firmer – and then Emma sees her wrap a hand around his elbow and pull him away, leaving her to the quiet of her own gasping sobs.

.

.

.

She's not sure how long she sits there, Regina's limp head cradled in her lap. She knows that she cries for a while – until she can't cry anymore – and then she just feels empty. She doesn't sleep though. Instead she sits there and stares out into the forest, hand stroking through Regina's hair, until the moon disappears and the sky slowly starts to lighten again.

She barely notices when someone enters the garden. She certainly doesn't realize how stiff she is until someone's pulling her up from the frozen ground. She doesn't know who it is, but she doesn't want to be moved. She tries to fight.

"Hey, hey! Emma, it's okay." The shock of hearing Ruby's voice is enough to stop her struggling a bit. "It's okay, Em, shh, it's okay."

She turns in the arms that are holding her, meeting the waitress' eye. Ruby's face is soft and sympathetic – something she hasn't seen directed at her for weeks.

"Rubes?" she asks, voice hoarse. "What're you doing here?"

"Stopping you from getting hypothermia," she says simply, eyebrows raised.

"But –"

"Kathryn and Fred told us what happened," she explains, helping Emma stabilize herself on her stiff legs. "There's EMTs out front, they need to collect…I mean they have to pick…look I told them I wanted to check on you first."

Emma blinks down at the body lying on the ground next to her. "They're her to take her away," she says, and it's not a question.

Ruby nods anyway, apologetic. "She can't stay here."

"I don't want them taking her to the hospital," she mumbles, voice barely above a whisper, "I don't want her there."

Ruby frowns. "Then where –"

"Her crypt," Emma says, an idea springing to her mind. "I want to take her to her crypt."

Ruby looks skeptical, but nods. "Alright, if that's what you want."

"It is, that's what I want."

The girl folds her arms across her chest. "Can I ask why?"

Emma meets her questioning gaze, resolve building within her. "No. Not yet I just…I just need some time."

She frowns again, but throws her hands up in supplication. "Okay then," she agrees, "I'll go and get the guys."

SQ*SQ*SQ

By the time she gets home she feels wiped, empty. She feels like there's a part of her missing. She walks into the quiet hallway, kicks off her shoes, and rounds the corner – half expecting Regina to be standing there, smirking at her.

She isn't though, it's dark, and empty. Sort of the way her chest feels. She walks over to the couch and perches in the middle, elbows on her knees, nestling her face into her palms.

She can hear Ruby hovering in the doorway, but can't be bothered to tell her to sit. Instead she just closes her eyes and tries not to think about how hollow she feels. How alone.

The last time she spoke to her parents – really spoke to them – she'd been screaming in her mother's face. Jefferson's in the hospital – Ruby hadn't had any news on him, so for all she knows he could be dead. Ashley certainly is – and she can't imagine Thomas will ever want to speak to her again. Ruby's there, but they've been so distant lately it barely feels the same, and then there's Kathryn, who probably hates her guts for everything she's put her through. Her only other friends are Lilly and Fred. She laughs at herself. She wouldn't want to see them even if she could – but according to Ruby, Fred had turned himself in and was locked up at the station. And Lilly, Lilly was in the wind. The redhead had apparently fled as soon as she saw the first gnome shatter.

It's not like she's a big friends person. Until she'd moved to Storybrooke she hadn't really had any friends – but she's gotten terribly used to it. She's gotten used to having people around her to share the load and, worst of all, she's gotten used to having a shoulder to cry on.

Regina's shoulder.

She's somehow managed to push away everyone she cares about – and the one person she'd have turned to in that situation isn't there. It's like having a chair pulled out from under her. Only she's still in that moment of panic – suspended in the air with nothing holding her up – and she can only imagine what'll happen when she hits the ground.

.

.

.

She sits silently for a long time – Ruby leaving her to her thoughts. This doesn't feel real, any of it. She feel like she's dreaming, like her body isn't her own. Her mind feels slow and lagging. She's trying to process, desperately, her brain just isn't obliging.

Emma feels the couch dip as someone sits down next to her – and she assumes it's Ruby – until a familiar male voice greats her.

"Hey," Thomas says, and her head snaps up. He looks broken, and hollowed – just like she feels – but he's there. What's more he doesn't look like he's there to shout out her, and she can't quite wrap her head around that.

She wants to say something, but she can't quite find the words. He puts a hand on her knee and then her eyes meet his. There's understanding in them, a shared sense of loss and grief.

"Tom I –" she starts, but he cuts her off.

"You don't have to." His eyes are tortured, but there's something softer in them too. He holds her gaze for a long moment, finally offering up a tiny, mournful smile. He doesn't need to speak for her to understand what it means.

He doesn't blame her. That's what he's saying – with both his eyes and his presence. They're grieving, both of them, and he understands she's just gone through the same thing as he has.

She doesn't know what she did to deserve that loyalty, but she appreciates it. Endlessly.

The couch dips on her other side as Thomas retracts his hand again, and Ruby's sitting there. The girls snakes an arm around her, lowing her head to Emma's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, Em," she whispers, and the blonde just nods.

They sit there in silence for what feels like forever, but realistically is probably only a few minutes. Then there's the sound of footsteps and she looks up to see her parents walking in, Kathryn trailing a few steps behind them. She stares incredulously as they move past to sit down opposite her, wordlessly, and remain that way.

For once her mother isn't saying anything, she just sits there, David by her side.

Emma doesn't quite understand what they're doing – if they're about to stage an intervention or maybe start yelling at her one by one. Then her mother shoots her a look full of sympathy and love and it finally hits her. They're just being there for her. That's it.

That's why there's no questions, or accusations or talking.

They're all just there.

It's all she ever wanted from her parents, all she ever needed from them, and finally – in this moment when her world feels like it's crumbling – they're trying. Not trying the way they think it should be done, but trying the way she needs them too.

A grateful warmth spreads through her chest, and she looks up to meet her mother's gaze.

"It'll be okay," she murmurs, "I know it doesn't feel like it, but it'll be okay."

"You're here," is all Emma can manage.

Her mother looks genuinely shocked. "Of course we are."

"But we argued."

"Family does that on occasion," David smiles at her. "It doesn't mean we don't love you."

"Besides which," Snow grimaces, "it's me who owes you an apology."

Emma's eyes widen slightly.

"Everything you said to me – you're right. I have been acting terribly. I just felt guilty."

"Why?" the blonde asks, not quite daring to hope that the answer is what she's been praying to hear.

"Because I was going to abandon you again." Emma's eyes fall closed at the confession. "Because I wasn't lying when I said I wanted to have another child. I want to try again, Emma, and I was foolishly trying to make sure you were independent enough before I did. I forgot for a moment that that's not what you need. You're capable enough on your own – what you need from me is support and I need you to know that I know that. I just…forgot, for a little while. I just felt guilty."

She looks up to meet the other woman's gaze again. "You felt guilty?"

"You have no idea how much."

"So you're…you're really sorry? About what happened in Neverland?" This is the conversation they should have had instead of the shouting match. The conversation they should have had months ago. It's the conversation that Emma desperately needed, and it's so much better late than never.

"I am," her mother replies, voice full of sincerity. Full of apology. "I'm sorry."

Emma breathes a long sigh of relief, her aching heart easing just fractionally. "Thank you," she whispers.

The other woman reaches out to rub a gentle thumb across her knee. "It'll get better," she promises.

"Will it?" she asks, the words tormented. "It doesn't feel like it will."

"I know. But it will. Eventually the pain will fade and one day you'll wake up and find that you're okay again. That you're ready to love again."

Emma startles, blinking at her mother in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"Come on, honey, I'm sure Regina would want you to find love again eventually."

She stares at her mother, incredulous. "But how do you…when did you…I never –" she splutters, but she's cut off by another voice.

"When are you going to realize that everyone was onto you two?"

Her eyes snap to the source of the sound and her heart lifts slightly to see Jefferson – Henry and Grace in tow – looking gray and emaciated, yet still so very alive.

"Jefferson? You're alive?"

"So far," he jokes, "turns out it's not that easy to get rid of me after all."

Henry steps out from behind him, then makes a beeline across the room and climbs wordlessly into Emma's lap. She lets out a little 'oof' as his body slams into hers, wrapping his limbs around her and burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"Hey there, kiddo," she whispers, dropping a kiss into his hair.

"Is it really true?" he mumbles into her. "Is she really dead?"

Emma screws her eyes shut, wrapping her own arms tightly around her little boy. "I'm sorry, Henry. I'm so sorry."

He doesn't say anything else, but she feels his body shake in her arms as he sobs, feels the wetness of his tears on her shoulder.

The room descends back into silence, the only noise Henry's occasional sniffle. If Emma hadn't cried herself out so completely in Kathryn's garden she'd probably shed more tears along with him – if only for the sight of seeing her son in such pain. Eventually his sobs begin to subside though, and he simply buries himself deeper into her arms.

Emma strokes her hands down his back, looking back up to where Jefferson has situated himself in an armchair. "What do you mean everyone was onto us?" she asks, unable to quell her curiosity.

"He means everyone knew that you and mom were dating," Henry mumbles, lifting his tear-stained face to look at her. Even through his grief, there's a knowing look on his face that's so Regina it makes her already aching heart spasm with pain.

"But…we weren't dating," she states.

"It's okay, Emma," her father reassures her. "We had our problems with her - but at the end of the day we were just happy you were happy."

The blonde's mouth falls open in shock. "Wait," she says, "you guys all thought we were dating?"

"Well duh," Ruby elbows her, "why'd you think I've been so mad at you?"

"Because I was…dating Regina?" she asks, unsure.

"Because you didn't tell me you were dating her!" the girl exclaims. "I was angry that I had to hear it from someone else – and that when I called you on it you still wouldn't tell me. Even though everyone knew."

"But," she frowns, "who did you hear it from?"

"From Milla."

Emma blinks. "What?"

"The day before the party I was talking to Milla and she mentioned that Obie had seen you guys," her eyes flick down briefly to Henry's head where it's returns to Emma's shoulder "well. You know," she mouths.

She stares at her, slack jawed. "That's…that's not even true!" she exclaims, confused. She casts her mind back, trying to understand why Obie might have had reason to say such a thing. Then she realizes – the memory of a scared teenager stammering that something was happening, that it had all started three days ago. On the 18th of November. Ashley had never given her an exact date on the day everything had started happening to her – but she's suddenly positive it, too, was on the 18th. Obie had seen something, but what he'd seen was Regina and Ashley, not Regina and her. She can hardly tell them that though, not with Thomas sitting right beside her.

"He must have just got it wrong."

"Hang on," David frowns, "are you saying that you guys weren't dating?" he almost sounds disappointed, and Emma has to blink a couple of times to try and get a grip on this whole situation.

"No, we weren't."

It's her mother's brow that creases this time. "So you didn't love her then?"

"No I did," she replies quickly, and then stops short, breath catching in her throat. "I do."

"But you weren't dating –" Ruby starts to ask

"But they were in love," Jefferson finishes for her, fixing Emma with a hard look. It's a look that says he sees right through her, knows exquisitely all the pain she's trying to hide away. It's also a look that says sorry.

"They didn't need to date," Henry pipes up again, voice scratchy from tears, "we were already a family."

Emma swears she feels her heart shatter. From the looks of everyone else in the room she'd say theirs have too. Even Kathryn – lurking nervously in the corner.

"I'm sorry, Emma," her mother says once more, terribly gently, and Emma takes a shaky breath. She might not have any tears left, but that doesn't mean she doesn't still feel like crying. She feels like curling in on herself and disappearing into her grief. Henry burrows deeper into her, and all she can do is tighten her grip on him – reassure him that she's still there.

There's nothing more for anyone to say. No words left. She wonders if this means they might leave her to the loneliness of her pain, but none of them show any signs of moving – nor any desire to. Instead they all just seem to settle more comfortably into their seats. Jefferson in his armchair, Grace sitting at his feet. Her parents opposite her, hands twined together in joint sorrow for their child. Kathryn curled into a chair behind them, nails between her teeth. Ruby to her right, hand stroking Emma's knee absently, and Thomas to her left – head in his hands as he appears to re-descend into his own private mourning.

Somehow, inexplicably, her people are there for her. Despite how she might have failed them, how she might have hurt them. They're there, and they're sharing this moment with her, this heartache. Her pain is exquisite, and whatever her mother might say she really can't imagine it getting any lesser. But right now, in this specific moment with all her people around her – it's just slightly more bearable.

And for that, she knows she will never be able to thank them enough.

SQ*SQ*SQ

TWO MONTHS LATER

It takes many, many attempts – not to mention a lot of fruit – to get the preservation spell right. Once she does though, she wastes no time before rushing over to the crypt and casting it, protecting Regina's still body with a shimmering blue barrier.

She doesn't tell anyone she's doing it – afraid they'll try and get her to let it go. Jefferson only finds out because he's Jefferson and he's a nosy bastard. He doesn't try to stop her though, in fact he's surprisingly chilled about the whole thing. Simply gets this funny smirk when she takes him down to the crypt and shows him.

After that she keeps it her secret though.

She doesn't tell Henry – he's suffering enough and she doesn't want to give the kid false hope.

After that she falls into a strange new normal, not outwardly grieving, but not quite herself either. She finds that being herself isn't easy, not when – the longer she goes without even having had a conversation with Regina – she feels less of herself.

Work quiets down eventually. The final appearance of the children had wreaked havoc all over town – apparently telling panicking citizens their only chance of survival is fire wasn't actually the smartest public service announcement ever issued. There's also the issue of all the people who'd been touched. Most of them seem to be recovering, Jefferson included – their strength returning to them day by day. But some of them don't make it. A few were already practically dead when the breach was closed, but others teetered around on the edge between life and death with everyone unsure as to which way they were going to turn. Some just take longer to recover their strength, and it's unsure whether they ever really will.

No one knows.

The manhunt for Lilly had been the most pressing concern, and it had given Emma fuel to go on. A revenge fuelled fire burning in her veins.

But when they'd eventually found her – hiding in one of her boats, laughing hysterically to herself – and thrown her into a padded cell in the asylum, the fire had fizzled out.

They might have Lilly and Fred in custody, they might both be destined to never see the light of day again, but it doesn't give her the satisfaction she'd thought it would.

Instead she ends up just feeling hollow again. A little apathetic. She doesn't really know how much longer she can go on in this pattern. It's killing her – but she doesn't see any way of breaking it either, has no real desire to.

.

.

.

"And Henry's getting real good at riding," she says conversationally to the still figure lying on the stone slab. "He's been doing a lot more after school lately – I guess to take his mind off, well, you know. But I went to see him the other day and...well, he's really good," she smiles proudly, "flies over these giant jumps like you wouldn't believe. I wish you could see him."

Regina would probably laugh at her if she could see what she was doing – call her an idiot – but somehow Emma doesn't care.

She knows, logically, that it's pointless. Regina isn't in there – she saw to that herself. Everything that the woman is is far away in a strange spirit realm. If she's even there at all. All what's here is what Fred called it – a shell. But it's a shell that Emma's very attached to – because even if Regina herself isn't in there anymore, it's undeniable that her body was still a pretty integral part of who she was. And it's what Emma's got left – all she's got left – so of course she's going to treasure it.

"Jefferson went back to work today," she continues, "I know you probably don't care about that – but it's a good thing. He's doing good, and so many people didn't make it that…well it's good."

She moves her head to rest on her arms where they're folded on the stone.

"Also I think my parents might be trying to get pregnant," she admits after a long pause. "I mean they haven't said anything – but they're both acting really weird. Plus my mother's been looking at baby clothes a lot lately. She thinks I don't notice, but I've caught her staring through shop windows at onesies like ten times in the last two weeks."

She drums her fingers on the cold stone, musing to herself. "I don't mind. They deserve to try again if that's what they want – and they're trying their best with me as well so it's not like they're forgetting I'm their child too or anything. I'm happy for them."

Her fingers pick up speed in their agitated rhythm. "Okay so I'm a little jealous too. They're getting another chance, of course I'm going to be jealous. They're going to have another kid and they'll be the perfect family they always hoped me and them would be – and I want that. I want my disgustingly perfect little family, okay? I want you and me and Henry to be a disgustingly perfect little family. Hell, maybe we could have another one. A little girl or something. We could raise her to be a perfect little nerd girl like Grace, and she could be the only person alive that could beat Henry at Mario Kart.

"Or she could be really girly. She could have a bedroom full of dolls and my little ponies and everything that I wanted when I was five years old. And Henry could be her overly protective big brother who beat up the bullies for her. He'd be a good big brother, don't you think?"

Emma lifts her gaze to stare at Regina's serene face, scrubbing a hand over her stinging eyes.

"I just need to get you back – and then we can have all that, Regina. We can have our own sickeningly sweet life. We can make my parents jealous with how perfect we are. You just have to come back."

Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she fishes it out, sighing when she sees a text from Thomas demanding her presence at the station. Something about Archie, Leroy, and a fake mermaid tail.

"Crap," she mutters, "I gotta go."

She stands up and shrugs her jacket back on, tapping out a quick reply to Thomas and then slipping her phone back into her pocket.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she promises as she heads for the door. When she reaches it she turns back again, staring at the lifeless form before her. "I, erm, well you know," she says, like she always does – it's hard to say it these days. Not because it's any less true. Just because it hurts. Then turns and heads back up the stairs.

.

.

.

When she finally gets in again it's to an empty house, her footsteps echoing through the foyer – making it sound about as hollow as her heart feels. Henry's almost certainly with Jefferson and Grace – he's been spending more and more time over there lately. She can't really blame him, the kid's got to deal in whatever way he can.

She walks up the stairs wearily, throwing herself face first down onto the large white bed. It worries her that it hardly smells like Regina anymore, and she wonders idly if maybe she should start sleeping at her house, to preserve what's left of the woman whose room this is. But sleeping here helps her feel close to the other woman, memories of the one perfect night they got to spend together before everything turned to hell always feeling fresher in the room where it happened.

She pulls herself off the bed – she needs to take a shower. She might be hopeless and unable to let go but she's not completely pathetic. She still has standards. She's not Bella fucking Swan – she's capable of functioning without her love at her side.

She cooks and she cleans. She goes to work and she makes sure Henry does his homework. She goes through all the motions of living life like a totally normal human being – it's just that it feels wrong going about them without her son's other mother. Dysfunctional or not, they were a family of three, and they just don't work as well as a two. Neither of them work as well without Regina keeping them in order.

The blonde rustles around in the duffle bag she keeps on the chair, looking for clean clothes – but there aren't any. She curses under her breath, she's gonna have to drive to her house and pick up some more.

A part of her says she should just decide to live at one place or the other. But choosing either option would feel like completely accepting Regina wasn't coming back, and she's not ready to do that. She doesn't know if she'll ever be ready.

.

.

.

When she pulls up outside her house she feels strange. There's something in the air that she can't quite put her finger on, but it makes her shiver nonetheless. She shakes it off and walks up the steps to the front door, past the mailbox and the overgrowing bushes and the little gnome sitting by the slowly sprouting daffodils, and puts her keys in the door.

Then she freezes.

She doesn't have a little gnome.

She takes two steps backwards, staring down at the unoffending china statue, and her heart leaps into her throat.

This one's different from any of those she'd seen in the winter. Whereas they had looked like your common-or-garden lawn ornament – painted in bright primary colors – this one's clothed in all black.

Emma reaches out a shaking hand, completely aware of how stupid that may or may not be – and tentatively brushes her fingers across the polished china surface.

An image flashes across her vision – a dark, screaming image – and she pulls her hand away as if burnt, shaking. She's sure she knows what she saw, but then again her brain isn't very reliable, so she has to check. She reaches out again, trying to control the quaking of her fingers, and presses her fingers more firmly against the smooth surface.

It's dark, really dark, but in that darkness there's a face. A face she knows, a face she loves. But it's screaming and in pain and it wants to get out. It's desperate to escape.

Emma jerks her hand away again, panting.

Regina.

.

.

.

"You lied to me," Emma snaps as soon as the cell door closes behind her.

Fred looks up from where he's playing chess against himself, brow furrowing. "About what."

"About whether she'd survive."

The man looks startled. "I said I didn't know what would happen – that's the truth."

"The how do you explain this?" she places the bag with the gnome in carefully on the table. She'd like to slam it down, but she can't let it break – this is her one connection to Regina. Her one clue that the woman's alive.

Fred's eyes widen. "Shit, is that an anchor?"

"You tell me."

He reaches out carefully to touch it, then jerks his hand back much the same as Emma did.

"That's impossible," he breathes.

"Well clearly not."

"No, Emma," he shakes his head, "anchors are only active if they have an active link to Aeternum,"

Her eyebrows knit together. "You mean…?"

"The breach would still have to be open."

"But…but I closed it. She closed it. That was the whole point of sending her through!" Emma feels her heart beginning to pound in a strange mixture of terror and hope.

There's a dark chuckle from the other side of the room and Emma starts as Lilly emerges from the shadow – she's about to pull her gun when she realizes the redhead's in straightjacket, chained to the wall behind her.

"You were never good at lore, Freddie boy," she laughs, "never paid attention to the details."

Emma turns on her. "Lilly what do you know?" she asks, eyes burning.

She considers for a moment. "What's in it for me?"

The blonde tilts her head to the side, pretending to think. "How about," she suggests, drawing her gun and marching over to the other woman, "I don't put a bullet in your brain."

Lilly stares her down, unintimidated. "Go ahead. It's nothing to me if you don't get your precious queen back."

Emma lets out a low growl. "What do you want, Lilly?"

The redhead continues to stare her down, but something in her eyes softens. "Let Fred go. Let my brother out of here – and I'll tell you what you need to know."

The blonde pushes her gun against the other woman's head. "Don't mess with me."

"I'm not," she says simply, sounding disconcertingly sincere, "I'll give you the information you need if you promise to let Freddie out of here."

She's sure it must be a trick – that she'd never settle for something so simple – but then she thinks back to Fred's story. Lilly had wanted to do the summoning as soon as the curse had broken, but Fred had been content in the life they had so she'd agreed they wouldn't. To keep Fred happy.

Emma's eyes widen slightly. It appears Lilly does love her brother, truly, and for that she might just tell the truth.

"Okay," she agrees, levelling a glare at the redhead, "I'll let Fred go if you tell me what I need. And I'll keep him cuffed beside me – and then when and only when I have Regina back again, I'll take those cuffs off. But if you lie to me – I'll throw him straight back down here."

Lilly glares at her, looking furious, but eventually she nods. "Deal."

Emma breathes a little internal sigh of relief, not quite believing that that actually seems to have worked.

"Good," she snaps, "now tell me what I need to know."

Lilly's expression turns smug, and sits back down on her bed, nestling into the dark corner.

"It's fairly obvious really – if you think about it."

The blonde glares at her. "Not to me it isn't. So spill – everything."

"You sent Regina's soul through the breach, correct?"

"Yeah – to make it close up."

Lilly laughs, "Only that's not quite how it works. It collapses in itself, yes, and most of the time it would close up too."

"But…not in this case?"

She shakes her head. "It couldn't close properly – because Regina's soul is still tethered here."

"What? What to?"

Lilly rolls her eyes, "To you. Obviousy."

She blinks, not quite comprehending. "What are you talking about?"

"Think of it like a rope," the redhead explains, in a voice so patronizing Emma wants to slap her, "you're tied to one end, Regina's tied to the other."

Emma just stares at her, confused, and Lilly gives an exasperated sigh.

"Like soul mates."

Oh.

Oh.

"You mean like…" she starts, not quite able to process that little bit of information.

"Mommy and Daddy?" Lilly asks with a satisfied smirk. "All that True Love crap, exactly – only where I'm from we call soul mates. Everyone has different names for it, but it's all the same concept."

"Regina's my True Love?" she asks, incredulous, but she can't help the tiny amazed laugh that falls from her mouth.

Lilly lets out a breath of irritation. "It would appear so – sickening as the whole thing might be."

"And that means I can, what, pull her back?" she knows she shouldn't let it, but hope is beginning to pool in her stomach, to travel up and fill the hole that's been in her heart.

"Possibly," she admits, "in theory if you pulled her back through then the breach would close up completely after her – the question is how to pull her back."

Emma levels another glare at her. "And do you know the answer to that question?"

The redhead grins. "Oh I do – but I'm afraid that that information has a whole different price."

.

.

.

"This is a bad idea," Jefferson says, for about the thousandth time. "A really, really bad idea."

"Jefferson?" Emma replies – also for about the thousandth time – as she leads a handcuffed Lilly beside her into Kathryn's back garden.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

He grumbles, but does as he's asked, pushing Fred forwards in front of him.

"You with us, Rubes?" Emma calls over her shoulder, and the girl comes jogging up behind her – duffle bag slung over her arm.

"With you," she replies, "though for the record I would like to say I'm also with Jefferson on the issue at hand – weird as that feeling is."

Jefferson shoots her a wink and she makes a little disgusted noise.

"Also – and I know I've already said this – but it is really creepy that you are just keeping Regina's body lying around. I mean, I thought you'd have at least buried her or something."

Emma rolls her eyes. "And then where would we be?" she asks, feeling a little irritated – though that's less Ruby and more the nervous anticipation flying around in her stomach.

The girl doesn't answer, just shakes her head.

They walk into the garden and over to where unmistakable scorch marks still burn the grass from where the breach was – or still is, apparently.

"Ruby get the stuff out," Emma instructs, then turns Lilly around roughly to face her. "I'm getting Regina out, and then if there's time we're gonna shove your sorry ass back through. But if you're playing me – don't hesitate to think that I will kill your brother."

Lilly simply smirks. "I'm not playing you this time, Emma. This particular game of mine has drawn to a close."

The blonde narrows her eyes – but for all she can tell, the redhead's telling the truth.

Ruby's at her elbow then, looking disgustedly at the things in her hands.

"This is so messed up," she mumbles, handing the small jar of red liquid to Emma.

"For god's sake Ruby, it's only blood. You've drunk enough of it, haven't you?"

The waitress gets a distinctly affronted look on her face. "I'm a wolf, Emma – not a vampire."

Emma shrugs. "You still ate people."

Ruby grumbles in irritation, handing over the large silver bowl. "What else?" she asks.

"We need the dittany," Lilly answers, "and the yew."

She ruffles through the duffle bag and comes up with a sprig of yew and a small packet of powder. "These?"

Lilly hums in the affirmative. "Put them in the bowl – and Regina's blood."

"Hey, hey, I don't take orders from you," she snaps.

Emma sighs, "Ruby just do what she tells you to."

Once she has, she holds the bowl out in front of Lilly. "You're really sure about this?" she asks Emma again.

The blonde takes a deep breath. "Yeah. I have to try."

Ruby nods, and hands over the knife.

Emma closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, then she pushes up her sleeve and drags the cold blade up her arm, holding it over the bowl and letting the blood drip in and mix with everything else.

Lilly starts to chant, eyes falling closed.

The words are a mix of hissing and guttural sounds, a language Emma knows she's never heard before – and probably couldn't even hope to understand.

Fred comes to stand by her side, Jefferson holding him tightly by the arms. "Remember," he mutters quietly, as Lilly continues to chant, "when she comes through we don't know what she'll be – we don't know how much she'll have changed – but even if she seems the exact same person who left, you still mustn't touch her."

Emma gives him a little 'get on with it' gesture, they've gone through it a thousand times – and she understands every possible outcome.

Or at least she thinks she does.

She's gotten so used to missing the woman that she thinks she's got the wanting under control. Then the ingredients in the bowl start to bubble and the air over the scorch mark starts to ripple and distort – and before she can even worry about what's happening there's an achingly familiar figure stepping out of thin air into Kathryn's garden.

"Regina," she breathes, heart skipping to her throat as the brunette steps into full view. There's something not quite right about her. She's more like the young Regina she met in the woman's mind, and there's a deeply tortured look about her that makes Emma's stomach twist. There's a hint of something unhinged there, something deeply, deeply wrong. But then her gaze flickers upwards and their eyes meets and goddammit they're still Regina's eyes – dark and soulful and full of emotion.

"Emma?" she breathes, taking a step forwards – at which all assembled automatically take a step back.

The younger Regina frowns, then looks down at her hands and up again, understanding flashing over her face. "Oh. Right," she breathes.

There's a clatter as Lilly throws the bowl to the ground. "And that would be my cue to exit," she says matter-of-factly.

She steps over to Fred, reaching up on her tip toes and giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek. "Be good, little brother," she smirks, and then she's walking forwards, heading for the rippling patch of air.

"Wait!" Emma calls, unable to dispel her curiosity. "One thing. I don't understand why you helped me."

Lilly turns to look at her over her shoulder. "I told you – this game's over. You won it."

"And you're just…okay with that?" she asks – fully aware she should probably just let it go, yet she can't.

The redhead's still present smirk blooms into a wicked grin. "I lost this game, Emma Swan. Doesn't mean I don't still have plenty more to play."

With that she steps into the ever-shrinking patch of undulating air and disappears. A few moments later, the disturbance of air does too.

Emma lets out a low breath of relief – and then turns to Regina. The woman – or girl, since she barely looks twenty – is staring at her, adoration in her dark eyes.

"Emma," she whispers, and she hears Jefferson sigh behind her.

"We'll wait in the car, shall we?" he asks, pulling Fred back across the garden. Ruby hesitates, looking suspiciously at Regina.

"We'll be right round the front, Emma," she reassures, then heads after Jefferson and Fred.

The blonde takes a careful step forward – she really hadn't anticipated how hard it would be to not touch the brunette once she was back.

"You can't touch me," Regina breathes looking as unhappy about that as Emma feels.

"I know," she replies, voice barely above a whisper, "I'm just so glad you're back."

Regina smiles, though Emma really can't shake the thought of how there's something so deeply tortured in the back of her gaze. She can't help wondering exactly what it is she's been through – exactly what happened to her. At the same time that her eyes are the eyes the blonde knows – they're also really not. There's something even more than the torture and anguish in them, something cold. Emma's worried if she examines it too closely, it'll be terrifying.

"I want to touch you," the brunette breathes and Emma smiles sadly.

"The feeling's mutual."

"No," she shakes her head, expression grieved, "no, Emma, I want to touch you."

"Oh…oh," Emma realizes, eyes widening. She takes an involuntary step backwards, not missing the way that hurt flashes across Regina's face.

The girl – because that's all she is, not quite the Regina that Emma knows – looks down at herself. Her eyes examine her hands like they're something foreign, disgust clouding her features. "I'm not really me, am I?"

Emma wants to disagree with her – but then she looks up and there's just something so very wrong about her that she can't. It would be a lie. "No. I don't think you are."

Regina takes a ragged breath, face falling. Emma watches as her dark eyes roam up and down, drinking in everything about her. There's longing in her dark gaze, and love – it's shrouded by everything else, but still definitely there.

"You're still in there, though," Emma tells her, conviction in her tone.

The brunette raises an eyebrow. "You think so?"

"I'm positive."

She sighs sadly. "What good is that though? If I'm stuck like this?"

"It won't be forever," Emma tells her firmly, "I promise."

A hopeful look crosses the brunette's face. "It won't?"

She shakes her head. "I have your body Regina, I kept it safe – and we're gonna find a way to get you back into it."

She smirks, expression one that's so distinctly Regina that Emma could almost cry from relief. She's definitely in there. "Had to be a hero," she remarks. Beginning to sound more like herself.

Emma shrugs. "You wouldn't love me if I weren't."

Regina rolls her eyes then, this topic seemingly pulling more of her out from wherever it's being suppressed. "Don't be an idiot. Of course I would."

Emma can't help the grin spreading across her face. "Would you love me if I wasn't an idiot?"

The brunette takes a careful step closer – as close as she can without fear of them brushing against each other – and Emma's suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of joy at the sight before her. Talking aboutthis is making Regina's eyes shine – with wit, and attitude, and love. Breaking through the anguish and burying it in warmth – however fleeting it may be.

"No, dear, I don't suppose I would."

Emma beams. The term of endearment sounds a little odd coming out of a Regina so much younger – but it's familiar, and normal, so she clings to it.

"We will find a way," Emma says firmly, capturing Regina's gaze with her own, determined one. "Whatever happens – I'm going to help you become you again."

Regina smiles – it's a little wistful, but at least this one's not tortured. "I hope you can."

"I can," she insists. "We can. We'll find a way."

She hates that they can't touch. That there's clearly so much going on beneath the surface here that she doesn't know and they're going to have to find a way to work through it. That finding a way for Regina to get back to herself again, to her correct body, seems like an impossible task.

This situation is so very far from perfect.

But she's spent two months without being able to talk to her, without being able to do something as simple as see her smile or look into her eyes – and so even if it isn't perfect – even if this isn't a permanent arrangement. For now, it's enough.

"What are you thinking?" Regina asks, almost shyly.

"I'm thinking that it's time we went home," she whispers.

The brunette looks a little startled. "You think that's a good idea?"

"I don't know," she replies honestly. "Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But what I do know is that I just want you home. I've missed you," she admits, throat feeling a little tight.

Regina smiles. "I've missed you too." Both of them make as if they're about to reach for each other, before realizing that that's out of the question and stepping backwards.

It's awkward, but there's not much they can do about it. It's most likely going to be awkward – really awkward – until they can get Regina back to her normal self. In the meantime though, there still seems to be enough of Regina in the girl that Emma's already beginning to feel less empty again, less lonely. The woman still knows her and she still loves her. She's still got some sass in her, despite the hollow look her eyes have behind them. There's enough of Regina there to keep her hopeful. To keep her amused despite not being able to touch. There's plenty of things they need to discuss anyway. How to get her back to her body. What happened to her when her soul went through the breach. What they can do to help ease the anguish that bleeds through into her expressions. Hell, Emma still has apologizing to do for everything that happened when they found Ashley. There's all sorts of things they need to talk about, all sorts of things to dicuss.

"So," Regina starts, when the silence has been dragging on for a while – and for a moment she almost, truly seems herself again, "did you ever find out what it was that our son was reading?"

And then, of course, there's that.

SQ*SQ*SQ

In theory, this is the first in a series. There is room for more and inspiration for more in my head. So if you beat me with sticks, I may deliver. Until then, thank you for reading this monster. I bow down to your patience.