A/N: For Ouatwrite. Your amazing comments, messages, and friendship, got me through writing this. And the rest of you, thank you so much for staying with me this far. If it interests you, I discovered that the word "love" occurs over 100 times in this story. That makes me strangely proud.

BREAK

I'm sitting in Regina's living room with damp hair and nothing but a towel to preserve my dignity as my favourite baldy gushes apologetically about puking burger and fries into my hair. For all his soft words, he doesn't seem very guilty. And yet, I can't bring myself to hate him, even a little. He's clutching his somehow puke free dragon friend and edging closer and closer to my couch, widening his eyes in a way he knows is irresistibly adorable.

"You're lucky you're cute, kid," I tell him. He smirks. I get the feeling he knows that, too.

"Oh, Emma."

I've heard that phrase a million times but never has it sounded so beautiful. Or so loving. And then I'm dressed in yet more of Regina's clothes, cosy and warm, and she's braiding my hair as Henry yaps on and on about some fairytale he doesn't agree with and we listen intently and decide that (as usual) he's absolutely right.

Henry's flagging halfway into Maleficent and we take him up to bed together; I carry him, Regina sings Spanish lullabies, and we read a fairytale that passes his scrutiny. Regina voices the baddies and I love it. She makes a delectable Evil Queen.

We end up finishing the movie, curled up together so naturally and comfortably that I almost forget who I am, where I came from, what's happened to me in the past. Being with Regina washes all that away and here, in her arms, I'm just Emma, her Emma, and my Emma. Too late, I realise there are tears in my eyes.

Regina glances at the screen, then back at me. Slowly, she wipes my tears away with her finger, then leans in and kisses both my cheeks.

"Thank you for coming, today," she says quietly. The end credits are rolling; I wonder what better thing I could possibly have done and come up totally empty.

"Thank you for inviting me," I reply, managing a small smile. I'm thinking about the conversation in the car, now, the one about moving in (so, the one about utter impossibilities).

"I wish you could live with us," she says, reading my mind.

"But it wouldn't be right," I finish for her. "I still have two more years of being a college student, and I can't possibly spend those two years living with a professor, even one that doesn't teach me any more."

"I could… I could help you rent another place, somewhere nicer than dorms."

"So I could be your kept woman?" I know she doesn't mean it that way but I can't help seeing it. She looks hurt. "Sorry," I say. "I just… It's not like you have the money, anyway. You need to save it, for Henry. I have my scholarships, I don't need anything and I like that I don't need anything from you. It's important to me to be independent."

She understands. I know she does. But I can see on her face that she wishes things were different.

"I want you, Emma," she says, her voice low, obvious. "I want you in my house, I want you with me, I want to be with you in public, I want to take you out, show you off, hold your hand, kiss you…"

I smile. Something about the way she says it makes me feel valuable, desirable, and these are things I haven't ever felt before.

"I'd like that. And one day, you can."

"One day…" she echoes.

We're 'in the moment' people, both of us, and setting our hopes on one day, at least two years in the future, doesn't sit right at all. Then again, I decide, there are a lot of things about the world that don't sit right with me and that doesn't stop me living in it, or these days, actually enjoying living in it.

Regina admits she's a little worried about Henry, because he was sick, so we take it slow, teenage couch making out rather than going for it right away. An hour passes, everything seems fine, so we head upstairs.

"I can give you a ride to work in the morning, I think Henry would like to see where you work," she says.

"What if someone sees?"

"I'm not your teacher. It's not… Well, it's frowned upon for us to date, I suppose, but we're not breaking any rules. Now that your grade is in Kathryn's hands, we can do what we like. Within reason."

"Reason, huh?" I ask, sliding down the bed, hovering above her. She giggles. It's a beautiful sound.

"Yes, reason."

"You know, I once read that there's no rhyme or reason to love," I tell her. The words are out of my mouth before I really think about it. She knows I love her, I've told her I love her, but talking about love so comfortably, so peacefully… That's definitely new.

"Oh yes?" she murmurs. And I realise she might be a teacher, she might be my teacher, but she's just as vulnerable, as young, as full of foolish dreams, as I am. Only one dream, one dream we both have, maybe that dream isn't foolish at all.

And then about a thousand alarms go off, and no, they're not in my head. They're in Henry's room and we're running and dialling and riding in the ambulance and it feels an awful lot like deja vu except I swear it didn't hurt as much last time and I know I wasn't crying but this time I'm crying and the kid is unconscious and yeah, Regina knows I love her but does he know, does he know that I love him?

It's so fucking unfair. I lean against the side of the rig and cry my eyes out because the damn has been broken and for all I know this is fucking watershed and did I mention that I hate feelings? I knew there was a reason I avoided them. This family, these two people… I love them more than life itself and Regina can harp on until she's blue in the face about being blessed to have whatever time we do get with Henry but it's bullshit, it's utter bullshit and we should have forever, we should have fucking forever and we should be a family and have a house in the fucking suburbs and a boring car and a golden retriever that pees on the floor and another one and a half kids and holy shit I am spiralling-

"EMMA!"

She's noticed, of course.

"Emma, in the nicest way possible, get your shit together, or go home."

Wait, what?

"Huh?"

She gestures to the door of the ambulance, which has now stopped.

"My son is in surgery, and I love you, Emma, but I have to hold him up right now, and though I wish I could be, I'm not strong enough to hold you up at the same time."

I'm still crying, but now I'm angry. She can't give me a few seconds? She can't give me a moment to feel sad, to feel afraid? Sure, she's been doing this for years but this is still all new to me and excuse me for not being the greatest at coping with it! I'm here, I'm trying, and I love them, dammit, doesn't she know that? Doesn't she know that I just need a moment to freak out and then, and then I'll be right there, I'll be everything she needs… I just can't be that right this second because I'm a bit preoccupied with the five year old whose blood pressure just plummeted.

"I'm going inside, Emma. I'll call you later," she says, and I hardly see her eyes, hardly see the pain in them, before she turns, climbs down, and runs inside.

"I gotta go, Miss," the driver says. At least he has the decency to sound sympathetic. "Taxi rank's over there."

I go in the direction he points, but I actually stop at the bus stop. Luckily, my student ID's in the pocket of my jacket. It'll get me back to my dorm… The idea of dorms, of school in general, feels so alien. I want to go in, I want to see how Henry is, I want to stay by Regina's side, to be whatever she needs, to help her, to be like I was last time. But I'm still scared, I'm shaking, and she's made it pretty clear she doesn't want me in there. No. She wants me to go. She told me to go.

"Well, fine!" I spit at the sidewalk. "I'll go! You keep this stoic, regal bullshit going and I will go, back to my dorm, back to being the immature idiot you obviously think I am. Because I couldn't possibly care for your son as much as you do. I couldn't possibly love him. I couldn't possibly be upset because of that, because I love you, and him, and the family we make together…" I can't believe I fell for it. I can't believe I thought of them as my family.

Like, I get that Regina cares for me. Of course she does. And I'm not jealous of Henry, it's nothing like that. It's right that he comes first, I wouldn't have it any way. But just now it felt like… Like I wasn't a part of it, like she didn't want me to be a part of it.

I felt like my issues, my anxiety, my problems, made her shut me out. They're fine for her to deal with when she feels like it, but when it gets tough, when it gets complicated, she wants me to go, she wants me out of the way. And I'm mad at her for it, only it ends up feeling a lot like I'm just mad at me.

The bus pulls up. It smells like puke and homeless people and who the fuck am I to judge them anyway? A few twists of fate and I could easily have been one of them. Maybe I'd fit in better. I certainly wouldn't have delusions like Regina Mills - and I've decided that's what she is. A delusion. A mean, cold bitch of a delusion who, yes, is secretly loving and wonderful and amazing, but for me, she is still a delusion. How can I possibly be with her? I'm a student, she's a teacher, and I've opened up to her but it's not as if she's really opened up to me.

Sure, she's told me about Henry, but he's Henry, he's not her. I probably know the kid better than I know his mother. How's that for an imbalanced relationship? In a way I'm just a glorified babysitter.

I know I'm taking this too far. I know I'm imagining things, I know I'm being dramatic and angry and catastrophic but I'm allowed to be in a bad mood, I'm allowed to be mad about this. And underpinning it all is the devastating fear that Henry doesn't-

HE IS GOING TO MAKE IT HE IS GOING TO MAKE IT HE IS GOING TO BE JUST FUCKING FINE!

But what if… As I think about this, I think about Regina and my heart breaks for her all over again because yes, I'm mad, but I still love her, I still love Henry, and even if she can't love me right now, I have to keep loving her. I have no choice. I've never had a choice.

Lights blur past the grimy bus window and I wriggle deeper into my cheap fake-leather jacket and shiver from a cold that comes from somewhere in my chest. It's too bright on the bus, too alive, and without really thinking I press the bell and get off. I have a vague idea of where I am and my boots, without socks again, hit the sidewalk with a rhythm I can easily get into. I accelerate it, breaking into a run.

My phone pings from my pocket and I look, immediately. It's her.

Henry is out of the woods, he is sleeping now. How are you?

I feel panic rise in my throat as I read, I try to calm myself but it's too late and I'm mad and scared and sad and relieved and I stagger towards the nearest building and prop myself up against the wall.

Emma?

Jeez, I gotta remember to turn off read receipts.

And now it's ringing. I should decline, I should let it go to voicemail, but dammit she's so good and I'm still so angry and I press green and try to yell "WHAT?" down the line but it comes out as more of a strangled gasp.

"Breathe, Emma," she says gently. "It's okay, it's going to be okay. Just breathe."

Something in her voice helps me calm down, even though I kind of hate her right now.

"I'm mad at you," I manage.

"I know," she says. She sounds really sad, but she doesn't say sorry.

"Are you?" I demand.

"Am I what? Mad at you? No."

"No, not mad at me. Sorry."

"Oh." There's a pause. "No, Emma. I'm not sorry. I mean, I'm sorry you're upset, that you felt so bad earlier, and that you're mad, but I'm not sorry for what I said or did. I did what I had to. Look, we can talk about this more tomorrow. Where are you right now?"

"I, uh…" I thought she would be sorry. I was so sure she'd be sorry, that she'd beg my forgiveness and come pick me up in her warm, comfy car.

"Emma, love, tell me where you are." I want to think it sounds patronising, but it doesn't. It just sounds kind. What she said before gets to me so much, but this, I can't fault.

"I took the bus," I admit. "But I didn't get all the way to school. I had to get off."

"Okay, Emma, I want you to call a cab. I can text you the number and you can get it to take you back to my place, you know where the key is, or back to school."

"So you don't want me with you, but you're fine with me being at your place? I don't get you, Regina!"

I think I hear her sigh. "I wish you could be with me, Emma, but deep down, I don't think you want to be. I think you're mad, I think you want to yell at me a good deal, but I really don't want you to do that right now."

"So you get to say what you feel, but I have no choice?" I demand.

"Oh, Emma, you always have a choice. But I am painfully close to breaking point and if you come here and speak your mind right now, I will not consider your perfectly valid feelings. I will not be the loving, caring girlfriend you absolutely deserve. I will call security. So I strongly advise you to go to my place, and I will see you for breakfast. Alternatively, and I would understand completely if your feelings compelled you to do this, you can go to your dormitory and we can arrange to meet, or not, at a later time."

I take several, shaky breaths. Is she fucking serious right now? Well, I know the answer to that. Yes, she is, and she's a total badass.

"What if I came to see you and didn't yell?" I ask in a small voice.

I think I hear her chuckle. That's good, at least. "I wouldn't call security. But I'd be asleep, and if you woke me up I'd give you a glare so terrifying I wouldn't even need to. Emma, I don't want to patronise you or say I know what you're feeling. I don't. But right now I have to do what's best for myself and my son."

"I… I don't understand you. But I… I want to. So I'm not going to run." As I say it, I'm telling myself too, but her response makes it worth it. Very, very worth it.

"Thank you. I love you so much, Emma Swan."

She sounds so tired, so ragged, in those two sentences, that maybe I do understand a little after all.

"I love you too," I whisper, and end the call before either of us can ruin it.

A message with a taxi number appears a moment later and because I love her, I call it. It's already paid to wherever I want to go. It seems to take a very long time to get to her place, and when I do arrive it still almost feels like I haven't. She keeps her house so clean and tidy, so empty… I go upstairs, looking around. The only room that's really lived in is Henry's, and that has puke on the floor. And the bed. And Jet. Poor Jet.

I know I'm never going to sleep, so I set about cleaning. I clean the dragon first, it's only a few specks but I don't want him to smell. Then I worry, a lot, that Henry won't have him when he wakes up. I consider taking him to the hospital but I know he and Regina need to rest. I don't know much about medicine or what Henry might have needed, but it dawns on me that Regina might have been so exhausted because she had to donate blood.

I come up with a solution. It takes several goes to get Jet's voice right, but finally I have a video I'm happy with and I text it to Regina with an explanatory message. Then I clean the rest of his room, wash his sheets, tidy his bookshelf and lie down on his bed for a moment to rest my eyes-

And that's where Regina finds me at 9am the next morning.

"Hey, Goldilocks," she says softly. I wake up slowly, reluctant to face the problems of the night before. Because we love each other, but I'm mad, I'm still so mad and when I look at her it only makes it worse.

I did a lot of thinking, while I was cleaning, and while I get that she did what she had to do, and I respect it, I still feel like I hardly know her in some ways. I know she's been through things, I know she has anxiety too, I know she's smart and awesome and a fantastic mother, but…

She's not perfect. And I find that hard to accept.

As I figure that one out, I end up with pretty much all the blame for my misery on me. Which in a way just makes me madder at her. I'm very confused.

"Are you hungry?"

"Yes." I am very hungry.

Regina makes pancakes. So she does feel bad. Somehow, it's hard for me to take pleasure in this. I want to, I want to feel totally justified and incredible but in the end I just feel guilty. And half an hour later, I also feel stuffed. Regina just picks at hers but what can I say, I'm a stress eater.

We clear the plates, wash the dishes, wipe down the kitchen, put on another pot of coffee, fold Henry's now clean and dry sheets, drink the coffee in silence, wash the mugs, wash the spoons, wash the entire damn coffee maker, and I swear we're on the verge of cleaning out her freezer when I finally find the courage to say,

"So…"

"So," she agrees.

"I… I don't think I want to yell at you," I say, but I'm really not sure.

"That's good," she says. "What do you want to do?"

I shrug. "How's Henry?"

"He seems fine. He's still sleeping but his vitals are excellent. The Jet video is wonderful, I've sent it to his nurse's phone so she can show him when he wakes up."

"I'm glad you liked it," I say awkwardly.

"Emma, in the ambulance-"

"You did what you had to do, I know. I don't hold it against you."

"I did what we both needed," she says gently. She knows it's going to make me mad again but she goes on anyway, as if she knows what's best. I want to be angry with her for that, too, but the truth is she probably does know what's best.

"Emma, you were freaking out. A lot. And I couldn't help you. I really couldn't. Even if I had stayed, calmed you down, you would have needed me to do it again, and again, throughout the night and I just did not have the strength for that. I could tell what kind of mood you were in and it's wonderful that you're able to feel so vulnerable but also, impossible for you to rely on me to ground you."

"You don't know that I would have freaked out again if you'd helped me in the ambulance," I say, letting out at least some of the hurt.

"You're right."

"So why did you tell me to leave?" I demand. "Maybe I would have got better in a minute and come in and been there to help you."

Regina pauses. There's a flicker of something on her face, as if… As if she would have liked that.

"I knew that was a possibility. I didn't actually tell you to leave, Emma."

"Yes, you did!"

"I don't want to fight about this, but what I actually said was, get your shit together or leave. I do apologise for the crudeness, but I think the message was clear, and I didn't want you simply to disappear if you could cope with coming in."

"I…" I can't deny that it's what she said. I can't deny that she gave me a chance. But I hadn't been able to do it, I hadn't been able to get my shit together, so… So she needed me to go. "I want to be there for you all the time," I say weakly.

She smiles with warmth and understanding. "I know. But sometimes you can't be. Sometimes you have to look out for yourself first."

I've heard that before, but selfish woman that I am, it's only this time that I realise it doesn't just apply to me. Sometimes Regina has to look out for herself first, too. She's not as strong as she pretends, she's not as perfect and put together and able to deal with anything and take on the world as we'd both like to imagine. I try to work out how to express this to her.

"I'm not mad at you for how you acted last night. You did the right thing and… I'm sorry if I made it more stressful for you. That wasn't what I wanted and I'm glad you were able to do what you needed to do to keep it together."

She nods, but doesn't speak. After a considerable pause, she flashes me a small smile. "I'm waiting for the but, Emma. I know there is one."

I sigh. "But we're making up. I don't want to say it any more."

It's true. The tension's lifted, we're moving past it, we understand each other again and we're both a lot less tired and panicked about Henry, which is helping too. We're still in the kitchen; I lean against the counter and puff out my cheeks. I don't want to do it. I feel like being a grown up in a potentially healthy relationship involves doing a lot of things you don't want to do.

"I… Okay, so, firstly I know that I do know you. I know that you're honest with me, like you always said you would be, and I know that you have walls for a reason. But sometimes I feel like… Sometimes I feel like I hardly know you, because I don't know anything about… I don't know why you have anxiety, I don't know why you used to drink or have panic attacks. I think it has something to do with your family, with your mother, and you've implied that she hurt you but that you really don't want to talk about it… I don't know, I guess I just feel like I don't really know how you feel or what might trigger you or what happened to you in the past, and sometimes you kind of act like you know everything about panic and anxiety and I get that you've been through it and that you're really smart and you know lots of stuff… But I also feel like maybe you bottle things up too much. I want to be honest with you about how I feel and I'm not asking you to give me a detailed account of your past, I just… I don't want you to hide. I want this to be a two way thing, I want… I want to feel like I can help you, as well as you helping me. I want to feel like we support each other. Last night I felt like you thought it could only go one way, like you supported me and if you couldn't do that, I might as well just leave. But I don't want things to be that way, I want to support you too, even when I'm breaking.

I… I also feel like… Like you're afraid to let me see you fall apart. I can't know how you were feeling last night but I do know that you were scared and I mean I've known Henry a few weeks and I was torn apart so I can only imagine what you were going through… But you never share that kind of thing with me. I've never seen you cry, I've never seen you anxious or scared. Even with Henry, you're always so strong and amazing and don't get me wrong, I admire you so much for your power and independence. But I don't think that's the real you, not all of her. And I really, really want to know all of her."

Regina watches me as I say this, listening intently, almost as if I'm giving a class presentation that she's about to grade. It's weird. I kind of wish she'd get mad or contradict me. But she doesn't. When I finish, she nods.

And then she says nothing. I don't speak either, I just wait. And then I watch as Regina Mills' carefully painted mask gradually falls away and I see an entirely different woman. I see a terrified mother and an abused child. In a way I see myself. In a way I see the opposite. And the thing is, I don't actually see anything different at all. The only thing that's changed is her acknowledgement, her agreement that this part of her exists.

She reaches out and takes my hand.

"I think you know me a lot better than you think you do," she says softly. "And I think you're scared, not about Henry, but about this, about us. You're scared that I'll leave, or that I'll make you leave. You're scared that I'll stop loving you. But I'm here to tell you, Emma Swan, that I will not. I will never stop loving you. I can't make many promises, but that, I say with absolute certainty. And as for my past… I'd rather you didn't ask now, but whether it's later today, later this week, later this year, I'll… I'll tell you. I think you've earned the right to know. And it may surprise you but… I actually think I'd like to talk about it with you."

"Really?" I can't help but be surprised, just as she suspected.

"Yes. I know… I know you have some insecurities. I know you worry that I think you're young and immature. It's kind of obvious," she adds when she sees my embarrassment. "But you're not. You're young, yes, but you're very mature, very emotionally mature, and you handle me better than anyone ever has. You make me feel safe, Emma Swan, and that is not a common occurrence. You also make me laugh, and with the exception of my son, that's hardly common, either."

"I… You make me feel safe, too."

"I'm sorry I couldn't, last night. I truly am."

I shake my head. "You shouldn't apologise for that. I… You did the right thing. I needed the space, I needed to think and get through it on my own."

"You will be stronger for it," she says. "But getting stronger hurts, and timing is important. I regret that I was forced to push you."

I press a kiss to her lips. "It was more of a loving nudge."

She pulls me into her arms. "I like that," she breathes, deepening the kiss, then tilting her head back to look right in my eyes.

"I may ask you to leave again, Emma, but please don't go anywhere."

It doesn't make sense, but I think I know exactly what she means.