Chapter Twelve

The rest of the morning passed in a furious mess of the slamming of drawers and loud, frustrated groans as Emma tried as hard as she could not to think about the mayor. Her head was still pounding and, after the dream that she'd had the night before, she was somehow even more exhausted than she normally was after a night of no sleep at all. The sheriff's station had teeth and claws that day. By the time that the afternoon had arrived, she was begging someone to phone in with an emergency just so that she would have a reason to leave it.

She crossed her arms over on her desk and leant forwards, resting her forehead on top of them. The image of Regina sat before her, her eyes wide and pleading and desperately sorry, still swam before her. She didn't try to push it away, because she had to admit that a small part of her had still enjoyed watching the mayor squirm. The rest of her, however, was just hurting over it. She was hurting because Regina had done something so stupid and thoughtless, and she was hurting because she had let herself be quite so bothered by it.

She's Regina, she told herself, her eyes closed. You shouldn't have expected anything else.

She remained in that position for the next few minutes, partially wishing that she would drop off to sleep so as the make the day pass a bit quicker, regardless of what dreams that might bring about.

Then a knock at the station door jolted her back to consciousness. She groaned.

'Regina. Please, go away.'

'It's, um… it's not Regina.'

Emma shot upright in her seat at the sound of a man's low voice. Her right hand instinctively reached for her gun.

When she looked around she found August stood in the doorway to her office, worriedly eyeing the weapon at her hip.

'Oh,' she almost choked with relief, leaning back in her chair. 'God. You scared me.'

'I got that,' he said, his eyebrows knitting together. 'Can I come in?'

'Sure.'

He walked into the room, sitting himself down in the same chair that Regina had perched herself on the edge of only a few hours before.

'So. You look like hell, Emma,' he raised his eyebrows. 'Is everything okay?'

'Fine,' Emma responded too quickly. She forced a smile, but that only made it worse.

'Oh God,' he sighed, leaning forwards onto his knees. 'What's happened?'

'Nothing,' she said, picking up a pen and twirling it between two fingers. 'Just… you know. Having a bad day.'

'Right,' he slowly nodded, wondering how to go about this. He suspected that if Regina didn't know that he was still meeting with Henry on almost a daily basis, Emma probably didn't either. But he needed to find out what was going on here: he had come to the station expecting to find Emma angry, which she clearly was. But there was something else etched into her tired features, something that he hadn't been expecting. It looked like betrayal at first – but, every time that she blinked, it would quickly flash into something more painful, something with much deeper roots. Something that didn't come from simply being betrayed by a woman who you don't care much about.

He took a deep breath. 'Henry told me that you went round for dinner last night.'

Emma raised an eyebrow. 'So you're still seeing him, then?'

'Occasionally.'

'And did he…' Emma's gaze fell down to the desk that was sat between them. 'Did he say anything else?'

August managed not to blink. 'No. Not really.'

Emma released a long sigh, leaning back in her chair. She knew that Henry must have heard something – she and Regina hadn't exactly been quiet in their screaming or pleading or slamming of doors. But at least he wasn't running around town telling everyone else about it.

She didn't register the guilt that was burning in August's blue eyes.

'I'm guessing,' he said after a few moments of silence, 'that it didn't go very well, then?'

Emma jumped. 'What makes you say that?'

'You look like you want to hit something,' he said with a wry smile that quickly slipped. 'Or maybe even cry? Emma... come on. Something must have happened.'

Emma automatically opened her mouth to respond – to lie, to say that everything was fine, to say that she was fine, like usual. But at the very last second she felt something crack inside of her, and suddenly the weight of what had happened the night before was too much for her to hold up by herself. She collapsed under it.

'She… she tricked me, August,' she said, her voice almost a whimper. And then she proceeded to tell him the whole story of what had happened that night.

As he listened to the story that he already knew the major details of, August closely watched Emma's face: there was definitely something different. It wasn't the scar that she hadn't bothered to try and cover up that morning, or the dark, sleepless circles beneath her eyes. It was something behind their greenness. Something that told him that he'd been wrong all along – Regina and Emma weren't friends. They never could be. Because Emma's heart was breaking and Regina, without even realising, had been the one who had broken it.

He inhaled sharply through his teeth. How the hell did you miss this before?

'She really doesn't think, does she?' he muttered once Emma had finished her story, swallowing down the tears that were clawing against her throat. 'She knew what something like that would do to you.'

'I know,' Emma sighed, scrubbing a fist below her eyes. 'But, that's Regina, I suppose. Since when has she ever thought about anyone besides herself?'

August frowned. 'Emma. You know you don't mean that.'

'Don't I?'

'No,' he said firmly. 'Come on – it's been six weeks since the meeting, and in that time there has been no one who has tried to help you more than she has.'

'Yeah. Because she felt guilty.'

'Maybe at first. But if she's as selfish as you're saying, then I highly doubt that her guilt would have lasted quite this long. If Regina didn't actually care about you then she would've dropped you the second that she walked into your apartment to find you sat on the floor crying into a bottle of whiskey. Helping you that night took serious dedication; the sort that doesn't come from just feeling a little bit shamefaced.'

'That doesn't—'

'And, you know what else?' he persisted. 'If she didn't care about you – she would have remembered that Sidney was still following you, and she would have told him to stop. Because old, bitchy Regina didn't forget anything. She would have taken all of this as a golden opportunity where you were weak and defenceless, so much so that she wouldn't have had to bother attacking you at all. She would have left you to it, left you to not sleep and not cry and telling everyone that you're just fine, and instead she would have just tried to repair the damage in her relationship with her son. Without you there meddling anymore, it would have been the perfect time for her to win him back.'

'I don't meddle—'

'But she didn't do any of that, Emma,' August interrupted, the words tumbling out of his mouth. He seemed to only be realising the full extent of what he was saying as he was saying it – he hadn't realised the significance of everything that Regina had done until that very moment, when it was all laid out in front of him like an upturned envelope full of photographs. 'You know what she did: she forced her way in. She dragged you back into her life. She forgot that Sidney was following you because she was distracted, and she was distracted because she gives a damn. And I think you realise that: you're just too pissed off to admit it.'

Emma was slouched back in her chair, her arms folded across her chest. She had listened to the remainder of August's little epiphany without blinking, a resentful frown carved into her forehead. She ignored the fact that everything he was saying was, however obliquely, true – because she was still furious at Regina, and she wasn't going to let herself hope that she had done something so idiotic simply because Regina felt the same irritating fluttering in her chest whenever they were together as she did.

August's lips tugged upwards into a smile even so. 'You know I'm right, don't you?'

'No,' Emma snapped. 'I'm sorry, August, but quite frankly, you're talking shit. The bottom line is that she pretended to help me, but really she was just manipulating me all over again. That's it: that's all there is to it.'

'Quite defensive, aren't you?' he smiled. 'Are you sure that's all there is to it for you?'

Emma gaped at him, her stomach clenching. 'Are you high?'

'No. Just observant.'

'Jesus,' Emma rolled her eyes. 'Look, I don't know what you're getting at here, but you need to stop it. Regina and I aren't friends – we're never going to be friends. She doesn't know how to be friends with anyone because she can't even be nice unless there's some sort of agenda behind it.'

'Perhaps,' August shrugged. 'But maybe you just don't know what her agenda actually is.'

'It's to fuck me over, August.'

'Or maybe,' he said, leaning forwards. 'That's what you want to believe it is. Because the thought that it could be something deeper than that is terrifying to you.'

The sheriff simply looked at him for a moment, her trembling fists clamped between her knees. Eventually, she shook her head. 'You are high.'

'Just because I'm thinking more clearly than you?'

'Because you're acting crazy.'

'Because I'm not being blinded by the same betrayal that you are.'

'Well, good for you,' she bit out. 'You haven't been betrayed by someone who pretended to give a shit about you – I'm really happy for you. But I have, and I'm angry, and right now the last thing I want to do is start coming up with justification on her behalf. She hasn't earned it, and she's probably never going to. So, just drop it, will you? This is over.'

The end of the day crawled around. The moment that the clock struck five Emma was out of the sheriff station's door, slamming it behind her and only stopping for half a second to check that it was locked. Then she tore down the hallway, pain pulsating behind her eyes, more desperate than ever to get home.

The building was quiet, and when she reached the car park she found that it was almost deserted. Her yellow bug sat directly out front. Hitching up her latest stack of paperwork against her chest, she began searching in her pocket for the keys. She couldn't find them. Groaning, she threw the papers down onto the hood of the car, digging her hands through every pocket on her person until she located the bundle of metal within her red jacket. Pulling it out, she leaned over to unlock the door. It was then that she noticed the piece of paper that was trapped beneath the front wiper, flapping slightly in the September air.

She slowly reached out, plucking it from beneath the plastic bar, and turned it over. It was a photograph: there was a flash of blonde hair and the corner of an angry line running from a downturned mouth, but not much else. She gritted her teeth. Turning the photo back over again, she saw the message written on the back in the obnoxiously neat handwriting that could have only belonged to one person.

Taking your advice.

She frowned. Between screaming at her to get out of her office and then hating her when she did, she couldn't remember giving Regina any advice.

She opened the car door, throwing both the stack of papers and the photograph onto the back seat, before sliding inside and slamming the door shut behind her.

The nights were starting to get darker earlier, and so the drive back to Mary Margaret's apartment was surrounded by a dimming light that seemed to swallow up the car. Emma's mind kept drifting back to the photo that was sat on the seat behind her. It had annoyed her more than she should have let it – what advice? What the hell is she doing now?

She realised with a jolt that maybe Regina was going to get Sidney to publish the photos in the newspaper after all. Her jaw clenched thinking about it. It would hardly surprise her, at this stage – but she wasn't sure that she had enough fight left in her to go round to the mayor's office and beat her to death with the Storybrooke Mirror if she actually dared to do it.

A flash of something on the side of the road suddenly distracted her: as she passed one of the trees on Main Street, she thought that she saw something pinned to it. A rectangular piece of paper, fluttering in the wind. Emma snapped her head round, trying to look, but her car kept moving, and whatever it had been was already gone.

She parked the car outside the apartment building, remembering with a sigh when she found Mary Margaret's usual spot to be empty that she had some sort of PTA meeting that evening. Emma realised that she would be alone, and yet she hadn't stopped to pick up anything for dinner – not that it really mattered. The last time that she'd actually eaten a full meal had been too long ago to recall clearly. In fact, the most that she'd eaten in the last six weeks had probably been at Regina's house the night before.

No, she snapped to herself, clambering out of the car and dragging the papers with her. Do not think about that woman.

She left the photo on the back seat, locking the doors and storming over to the building. She almost dropped the stack of files when she realised that there was another photo pinned to the door of the stairwell.

'Jesus,' she muttered to herself, ripping it down. This one was less of a close shot – she could see the flash of her green eyes, the hint of a smile. Her face was unbruised and so it was obviously a much older one. Before she opened the door, Emma peered down at it for a moment: she could hardly remember looking like that anymore. She looked so… together. So utterly unbroken.

She sighed, slipping the photo between two files, before forcing the door open with her hip. Another three photographs greeted her, taped to the banister railing.

Emma gritted her teeth and tore each one of them down, burying them in her pile of paperwork and not letting herself look at them. She took to the stairs, then found another one waiting for her on the first landing.

'For fuck's sake, Regina,' she hissed, taking this one and scrunching it up into a ball. Before she did so she caught sight of her and Henry walking down the road together, her arm looped loosely around his shoulders. She didn't need to look at it properly to know that she had been grinning.

She walked up the next two flights with her eyes reluctantly scanning every wall, finding a new photograph or two pinned there every few steps. Every single one got ripped down, either flung to the floor behind her or pushed between the pages of a file that she definitely would not be looking through tonight. Her heart had started hammering against the inside of her chest in a way that she couldn't quite decipher as being from anger, or from nerves. What the hell was she up to? Emma pulled down another picture just before she reached the final set of stairs: she was laughing in it. Loudly, and happily, and carelessly. The sight of it made her stomach hurt.

With a sigh of relief she reached the landing outside of her apartment, rummaging in her jacket pocket once more for the key to the front door. She found it, gripped it between two fingers, and looked up. Then she dropped the papers like a bucketful of water.

The front door and the walls surrounding it were covered, floor to ceiling, in photographs of her. All of them were old ones, possibly from months ago, where she was chatting to Mary Margaret or laughing with Henry or simply walking down Main Street looking like she owned the place. There were no bruises to be seen, no scars clawing at her skin. She looked as comfortable in herself as she had ever done in her life, and it was alien. It was frightening.

Emma stepped over the heap of papers that had slipped from her arms and leaned in to look at them. The woman there… it wasn't her. Not anymore. This was the painful reminder of the part of her that had disappeared once she had been torn apart by Moe and his gun and his sticky, bloody hands. It almost physically hurt her to look at the comparison.

She was so involved in scanning her eyes over the wall that it took a long time for Emma to realise that she wasn't alone. She heard a small cough from behind her after a few minutes. She turned her head, her eyes glassy, and she didn't jump when she saw that Regina was stood waiting for her.

The mayor's hands were thrust into the pockets of her coat, her face anxiously waiting for Emma to start screaming at her. Her red lipstick had long since worn off from the way that she had been biting at her bottom lip.

Emma just looked at her for a moment, feeling the charge of the air all around them. When she spoke, her voice was quiet.

'Regina… what the hell is this?'

It almost broke Regina's heart to hear how exhausted she sounded. She took a step closer, removing a hand from her pocket so that she could gesture towards the wall of photos before them. Emma's eyes followed its movement.

'It was your idea. Not mine.'

Emma looked back round at her incredulously. 'At what point did I tell you to vandalise the whole of Storybrooke with pictures of my face?'

A tiny smile tugged at the corners of Regina's mouth. 'Well, you didn't use those words exactly. But as I recall, you did suggest a collage. So I decided to release my artistic side.'

Emma turned away from the door, rolling her eyes at the woman stood before her.

'Regina. This is… not normal.'

'No. Perhaps not,' Regina said with a shrug. She took another step forwards, deliberately picking her way over the reams of paper that Emma had let slip to the ground. 'But it's also not something that someone who was trying to frame you or trick you or humiliate you would necessarily do.'

'I don't know about that,' Emma said quietly, almost letting herself smile. 'If anyone saw this it would be pretty humiliating.'

There was a beat, and Emma found that she couldn't take her eyes off of Regina. The mayor was still, and her dark eyes were glistening. She looked terrified. She looked exhausted.

Realising that she was staring, Emma forced herself to blink. Her gaze fell to the ground between them.

'Regina…' she asked sadly, her voice cracking. 'Why did you do this?'

She looked up again when the mayor took another step towards her. Emma watched the muscles in her throat working as she swallowed.

She reached out a trembling hand to tuck one of Emma's curls behind her ear.

'So you could see yourself,' Regina said quietly, 'as I see you.'

The hammering in Emma's chest was stronger now; painful and almost deafening. She forced herself to take a breath, looking into the dark eyes that were now only inches away.

'And…' she faltered, but she didn't drop her gaze. 'And… how do you see me?'

Regina didn't answer. Her eyes fell down to Emma's lips, and then she leant forwards to meet them.

The pounding in Emma's chest slowed, and then it seemed to stop altogether. The feeling of Regina's mouth gently pressing against her own was startling; but even as electricity coursed through her nerves, sparking all the way down to her fingertips, her arms remained hanging uselessly by her sides. She couldn't breathe. One of Regina's hands reached up to touch the side of her face, but still she remained completely motionless with her eyes wide open, her chest tightening. Regina pulled away after a moment, her face pinched with worry. She saw the terror that was flashing through Emma's eyes.

Her hand left the side of the blonde's face, and she took a step away from her. Emma could only stare at her, her mouth slightly open.

'I'm sorry,' Regina eventually forced herself to say, biting down on her bottom lip. 'I shouldn't have… That was foolish. I should go.'

She turned away without waiting for a response, already bristling at her own stupidity and telling herself that she was absolutely not allowed to cry until she was back home again.

Emma watched her take a single step. She watched her leaving her. It was then that August's words from earlier that day returned to her: the thought that it could be something deeper than that is terrifying to you. And all at once, like a downpour of rain that came before she had even noticed the sky clouding over, the drumming of her heartbeat returned to her. It jolted her back into consciousness, and the electricity darting through her nerves finally propelled her legs forwards.

She was terrified. But she also painfully, desperately wanted Regina to come back to her again.

The mayor hadn't even made it to the first stair before she felt a pressure on her arm. She turned her head. Caramel-coloured eyes were glazed with humiliation and sadness and something that looked like hope as Emma pulled her back towards her. The charged air surged around them, thick and heavy, filled with the same electricity that was causing Emma's heart to thrash against the inside of her ribcage. She bit her lip, reaching up to slide one hand through the mayor's dark hair. Her breath hitched in her chest before she pulled Regina's mouth back towards her own.

Regina's eyes fluttered closed as she felt Emma's lips slowly, tentatively pressing against hers. It was the tiniest of kisses, the tiniest of gestures, and yet it rocketed through the both of them. With her fingers tangled through the mayor's hair, Emma allowed herself to pull Regina's mouth closer, grazing at her lips with the tip of her tongue until they cautiously parted and allowed it to slide through. As it moved deeper, Regina heard herself sigh into the sheriff's mouth. Her hands reached forwards, slipping beneath Emma's jacket and around her waist so that she could hold her impossibly close to the taut muscles of her stomach. Emma sighed, dragging her tongue more firmly over Regina's. Her mouth was warm and tasted of coffee and lipstick and the syrup that she secretly drizzled over her pancakes at Granny's, and Emma knew without question that if she had stop kissing her, if she ever had to stop this, she would die. She would die without the taste of Regina on her tongue.

She tangled her fingers more tightly through the mayor's hair and moaned, pulling her closer, relishing the feeling of long fingernails digging into the flesh of her back through her shirt.

A heat was building inside Regina's stomach, and she took a step away from the staircase so that she could walk Emma backwards until her shoulders thudded against the brick wall. She heard what sounded like a giggle erupt from the sheriff's lips. It was quickly smothered by a groan as Regina raked her nails down her back, moving gradually lower until they were cupped around the back pockets of her tight jeans. The warmth inside Regina spread outwards, invading her extremities, burning harshly against the inside of her heaving chest until the only thing that she could think of doing to satisfy it was to slam Emma harder against the wall, curling her tongue around the sheriff's and then gently nibbling at the tip of it when it attempted to pass through her own lips in response.

Emma suddenly dragged her mouth away from Regina's, almost laughing at the disappointed whimper that followed, before she pulled back on the mayor's dark hair to expose her long, smooth throat. She scraped her front teeth down the perfect skin, stopping only to drag her tongue across the hollowness beneath her collarbone, before carving the same path back up again towards the mayor's pulse. It was throbbing through her skin and Emma didn't hesitate in covering it with her lips, nipping against the flesh until she could feel the mayor trembling. Emma smirked, lacing her fingers more tightly through her hair, and then started to kiss it, swirling her tongue over the frantic beating, sucking at it until the blood began to rush to the surface.

Eventually Emma's grip on Regina's hair loosened slightly, and the moment that it did Regina brought her hands up to the blonde's face and pushed her back into the wall, raining kisses down on her with such ferocity that her lips began to hurt. She buried her face against Emma's own neck, drawing a line of kisses down her throat until she reached her sharp collar bone, where her tongue flicked out and started to carve the letters of the alphabet into Emma's skin.

She had barely made it to F before she heard the sheriff start to moan, digging her nails into Regina's back.

'We… we should probably stop.' She choked the words out like they were painful to her.

'Mm,' Regina muttered against her throat, dragging her lips upwards until they met the hard line of Emma's jaw. 'Probably.'

She planted kisses all the way along it, fiercer with every sharp breath that she felt Emma draw in beneath her, until she reached her earlobe. Teasing it into her mouth with the tip of her tongue, she heard Emma whimper. Her blonde head thudded back against the wall.

'Regina,' she groaned. 'Jesus. We need to… someone could see us.'

'That's true.' Regina let out a short exhalation of breath against the shell of Emma's ear and tried not laugh when the sheriff sounded like she might start crying.

'Do you…' Emma took in a breath, trying to control herself. 'Do you maybe want to come inside?'

Finally Regina pulled away, reluctant to leave the smell of Emma's skin so far away from her. She sighed, drawing her thumb around the sheriff's now pink and swollen lips. 'I'm afraid I can't… I have to go and pick up Henry from Dr Hopper's office soon.'

'How soon?'

'…five minutes ago.'

'Oh,' Emma sighed, not bothering to veil her disappointment.

Regina's lips quirked upwards into a nervous smile. She leaned forwards once more, kissing the corner of Emma's mouth, before she quickly said, 'Come to dinner with me tomorrow.'

She felt Emma flinch. 'What?'

'Tomorrow night,' Regina said, leaning back so that she could take in Emma's worried expression. It was almost annoying how endearing she found it. She reached out to brush a curl away from her flushed face, smiling. 'I... I need to apologise properly.'

'I think you'll find that you just did.'

'Not enough, dear,' she muttered, running a fingernail down the front of Emma's exposed throat. 'Not nearly enough.'

Emma's breathing hitched. 'But… people will see us. They might guess…'

'They don't need to know,' Regina said firmly. 'No one needs to know. People are aware that we're not exactly enemies anymore, Miss Swan… if they see us out together, maybe they'll just be pleasantly surprised by how far along we've come.'

Emma's eyes flashed wickedly. 'Well. I suppose things have taken a definite turn for the better recently.'

Regina raised one eyebrow before she pressed her lips back against Emma's, unable to stop herself. She could feel Emma grinning against them. Before she could slip her tongue back into the sheriff's mouth however, she felt herself being pushed away.

'Go on,' Emma said with a sigh, holding Regina by the shoulders like she knew that they both needed physically restraining in order to stop themselves from tumbling back into one another's arms. '…you have to go and get Henry.'

Regina jumped slightly, as if she'd already forgotten. 'Of course. Yes.'

She took a step back. Emma remained leaning against the wall, her body trembling curiously. She knew that she wouldn't be moving any time soon.

'So… will I be seeing you tomorrow?' Regina asked, her voice cracking only slightly.

Emma paused. 'Regina. Are you sure about this?' she asked, raising her eyebrows. 'You're not going to panic and end up standing me up?'

'No.' Regina said the word more firmly than she'd intended. 'I promise.'

With that, Emma's mouth curved upwards into a relieved smile. She nodded. 'Then yes. I'd love to.'

'Good,' Regina swallowed. 'I'll… I'll call you with the details.'

'Okay.'

There was another pause. Regina clearly wasn't willing to leave just yet, even though she could already feel her cell buzzing in her pocket as Archie no doubt called her to try and find out where she was.

'Oh,' she suddenly said, glancing to the mess of photos and papers to her left. 'I forgot about all of that – would you like me to stay and help clean up?'

'Go and get Henry, Regina,' Emma said with a smirk, finally pushing herself away from the bricks. 'He's already got abandonment issues. Let's not make them any worse.'

Regina laughed, raising her eyebrows. 'Yes. I suppose you might be right.'

There was one last pause where she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, unable to take her eyes off of the blonde woman stood before her and the way that she was, for the first time in six long weeks, almost glowing. She looked happy. Regina forced down a smile, her hands no longer trembling. And finally she turned to leave.

'Hang on,' Emma said barely half a second later. 'Do you have a scarf?'

Regina frowned. 'No. Should I?'

'Probably,' Emma said, reaching into her pocket to fish out her keys once more and unlocking the front door. She reached around the corner, grabbed her own red scarf off of the nearby hook, and returned to the woman stood at the top of the stairs. 'Henry might only be ten, but even he will probably notice if Mommy's got a great big hickey on her neck.'

Regina's hand immediately shot up to her pulse point, where Emma had spent the best part of five minutes driving her to distraction. 'I've got a what?'

Emma laughed, wrapping the scarf around her neck. 'Sorry. I didn't really think.'

'Why am I not surprised,' Regina huffed, pulling the scarf as tight as it would go. It smelt like vanilla and cinnamon. It smelt like Emma's hair.

'How's that for gratitude?' Emma snorted, leaning forwards to press her lips against Regina's for one last second. Then she stepped away. 'Go. Henry. Now.'

Regina bit her lip, fighting against the urge to charge back up the stairs and force Emma into the wall once more. She nodded.

'I'll see you tomorrow then, Miss Swan.'

'Yeah. See you, Regina.'

The mayor was halfway down the stairs when she heard the voice calling back to her.

'You know, you should think about releasing your artistic side more often.'

A/N: So I decided that after 11 chapters of waiting, it might finally be time to give you guys a bit of actual swan queen-ing goodness. I really hope I didn't disappoint anyone! Leave me a review to let me know what you thought :) and remember that I'll write a one shot for whoever is the 300th reviewer... (oh hey there, bribery)

Come and say hi on tumblr as well if you like - I'm starsthatburn over there too :)

And thanks again for the amazing comments and general wonderful support on this fic - it means the world to me. I'm so grateful for you all xx