Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Realm jumping is difficult even for the healthiest of people, and right now, she is most certainly not that.Turns out that forty-eight hours of non-stop torture followed up by hours of releasing every ounce of energy left in her body to try to stop a magical diamond - her failsafe, no less - from destroying Storybrooke is just about enough to make someone feel pretty awful. And right now, Regina Mills feels even worst than that.

Not that she has any intention of letting her unwanted crew-mates know as much. It’s already bad enough that this is a forced team-up between enemies all to save the one child in all of existence who is loved enough to potentially heal a family. Or well, maybe that’s going a bit too far, Regina thinks grimly as she gazes across the deck towards where the Charmings are.

Standing close together - David, Snow and Emma - like they haven’t a concern in the world.

Right, so that’s probably not fair considering the pensive expression Emma is wearing, her face pinched with worry and her blue-green eyes stormy with fear, but Regina isn’t exactly in the mood to be generous with her perception of the Charmings. Not even the one who tends to be (and she’d never admit this aloud) a bit more tolerable (if only because Emma doesn’t usually see life and all of its traumas in shades of black and white as her parents do). This family has caused her so much pain and suffering over the years, taken so very much away from her and it all seems a bit silly to pretend they wouldn’t do it all over again if not for Henry’s kidnapping.

So, yeah, if she chooses to do her best to keep the Charmings at arms-length even in the middle of this frantic rescue mission, who could actually blame her for that?

(Someone will always blame her, Regina knows and even knows she’s earned much of that)

“You don’t look well, Majesty,” Hook comments as he comes up beside her. Without unnecessary explanation, he extends out his flask to her, the top of it already unscrewed. 

“I’m fine,” she answers, too tired to dig for a suitable insult for the pirate. She doesn’t particularly want to be sharing any degree of space with him, but for Henry? She will.

For Henry, she’ll do anything. Even pretend that she doesn’t hate this awful group of people.

“As you say,” he shrugs once he realizes she has no intention of taking the flask from him. “But you should get some sleep if you can; there isn’t likely to be much time for it once we get to Neverland. Sleeping in the jungle - sweaty and noisy as it tends to be - is not exactly pleasant.”

She doesn’t answer him, just stares out at the water.

He seems to get the hint and swaggers away, his hand lifting the rum to his lips as he walks. It’ll be a miracle if the stupid bastard is sober enough to actually be useful, but honestly, she just doesn’t have the emotional bandwidth to worry much about him. They may have strange blood between the two of them (curious, she thinks, that she doesn’t actually blame him for betraying her considering the reality that she’d betrayed him first), but she knows enough to understand that he’s neither the to saving her son nor is he the secret to finding Henry. She’s not entirely sure what the secret is but she knows that it isn’t Killian Jones - and thus his presence is inconsequential to her beyond the ferrying of all of them to Neverland.

She thinks back on what she knows of Neverland and Peter Pan - she’s heard stories over the years, of course; her mother was fascinated by the boy demon and his ability to draw children to him. Cora Mills had been effective at many things - particularly harming others - but she’d never been what anyone would call skilled at getting people to want to be anywhere near her. Suffice it to say, no one would ever accuse Cora of being charming, and honestly, she’d never tried to be. She’d never seen cause to make nice with others, to find common ground. She’d always assumed everyone beneath her - less than her - and thus unworthy of her attention. 

As a child and a young girl, Regina had been quite the opposite - she’d gravitated towards people and they had actively done the same with her - but years of a marriage that had hollowed her out and the corruption of magic had stripped her of much of her draw. Sure, she’d still be as charismatic and dynamic as ever, but in a terrifying way; people had fled her.

She’d never wanted that, but she had allowed it to happen, anyway. Allowed so much to happen and to what end, she muses. What had she gained from any of her choices? What had the copious blood staining her palms ever done for her? Had all the misery helped her at all? The answer is, of course, no - all of that pain and hurt and violence hadn’t helped her even a little bit, and it’s really rather sad that it’d taken being tortured and nearly dying for her to grasp just how much of a terribly pointless waste her life has truly been. How utterly lost she is. And yet, now, it seems an unescapable conclusion, she thinks, as she gazes towards the Charmings.

And sees Emma Swan staring right back at her.

Blue-green eyes intense and cool. Like she knows what Regina is thinking.

Like maybe she agrees and sees Regina as worthless, terrible and evil beyond redemption.

In better, more deluded times, Regina would argue the point. She’d let her pride lead and refuse to surrender to the righteousness that is the Charming brood. She’d deny their looks of condemnation and their absolute certainty of her villainy. But… she can’t do that anymore.

Not after she’d been forced to look into the eyes of a man who she’d destroyed as a child.

Not after she’d nearly died trying to save the town she’d let her hatred endanger.

Not after she’d allowed that man she’d so damaged to kidnap the son she so loves.

A child who would be better off if she’d never come into his life. An undeniable reality.

One, she thinks, she’s finally done denying. No matter how this journey to save Henry ends, she knows that she’s already been changed by what she’s gone through. For the better? She’s the last one who would ever hope for such.

Regina turns away, wobbles a bit until she grips the rail to steady herself and then walks away.

The door to the crew quarters (there are several on the Jolly Roger, capable of housing probably a dozen or more men at least; Hook had mentioned that the full crew compliment is usually much, much larger), opens slowly, creaking as a soggy, flat-haired Emma steps inside.

“You still awake?” Emma queries as she sits down on one of the lower bunks and starts pulling off her boots (but for the sake of this voyage, they’ve gone two to a room with the exception of Hook in his regular captain’s quarters and Rumple in his own cabin) The conversation over who would get what bed had been non-existent; both women had simply claimed the bottom on individual bunks and said very little about it. It’s fascinating, really, how well they can - when all of the bullshit is out of the way - communicate with each other even when they’re trying not to.

“I am now,” Regina answers, tersely, rolling to face the infuriating blonde. She thinks what annoys her the most about this wrecking ball of a woman is that she doesn’t irritate Regina nearly as much as she once had. It’s maddening that on some level, they truly get each other.

Which is absurd because how could someone as naturally Good and Righteous as Emma Swan ever begin to understand someone as inherently Evil and Vile as Regina? How could Emma ever begin to grasp the terrible choices Regina had made in the name of surviving?

Well, she can’t. Of course she can’t (Regina avoids the dark realities of Emma’s upbringing - unable to handle the guilt of her role in that; at least not tonight). Nor should Emma ever want to understand her lest she be pulled under by the same violently unyielding undertow that is currently drowning the once powerful and bold (or was that the show?) Evil Queen. 

“We should probably talk,” Emma suggests as she glances down at herself and just now seems to realize that the clothes that she’s wearing - a last minute clothing choice before they’d left Storybrooke two days earlier - are what she’ll be wearing for the conceivable future.

“No.” It’s a flat answer, one without room for compromise or discussion and she sees the way Emma’s body jerks in response to it. You’d think after almost two years spent waging war against each other that Emma would be fairly used to how disinterested in small talk Regina is.

“Don’t you think we should?” Emma tries again.

“No.”

“But Henry -“

“Is waiting for us to find him and bring him home. That’s all that matters.”

“You went through a lot in Storybrooke,” Emma insists, seeming almost desperate. This is the part of the sheriff that Regina has never truly understood - what drives the blonde to keep trying to find a common bond between the two of them? Sure, Henry connects them, but at times, it almost seems like Emma is attempting to forge something even more than just that. Something almost like…friendship?

Not that Regina has any clue what such a thing would look like so she’s probably wrong about Emma’s intentions, anyway. True, they’d saved Storybrooke together - merging their powerful magic in a show of force and unity that Regina hasn’t even begun to reckon with - but that doesn’t suggest anything more than that. The one thing they do actually have in common is that there’s probably no one in existence that they wouldn’t work with in order to help Henry.

Which is all this is - nothing more. Certainly nothing as pathetic and ordinary as a connection.

As if something like that - something perhaps healthy and normal and good - independent of their need to protect Henry - could ever really exist. Or ever really should exist. 

“I’m fine,” Regina snaps back, giving Emma the same answer she’d given Hook.

But Emma isn’t Hook and she’s not one to get pushed away so easily. “You don’t look it.”

“And how do I look, Miss Swan?”

Emma shrugs. “Like you were on death’s door a few hours ago.”

“I’m alive and for the moment, that’s all that matters,” Regina answers, shortly and then rolls away from the conversation, unwilling to humor it and her apparent weakness for a moment longer. Because she and Emma aren’t friends and speaking to this woman who has already authored so much of her downfall can only lead to more loss and pain. The best case scenario for this journey is getting Henry back home where he’s safe with family, but even she knows that this is probably a one-way journey for her. So such conversations? Are pointless. 

“Okay,” Emma says with unfathomable gentleness and kindness and Regina doesn’t even need to see the blonde’s eyes to know that there’s genuine empathy in them - empathy that makes her feel warm and maybe even bizarrely safe in a way she’s seldom felt in her life, but also desperately weak and fearful of the certain lie. “But this isn’t over; you’re not okay.”

“I won’t compromise the mission,” Regina assures her, now staring at the wall. It’s an admission of sorts that Emma’s not wrong - the Queen is not only exhausted, but also still quite injured and neither of those things even begins to scratch all the mental noise going on. Noise that says things like Henry and Emma should have left her to die in that mine - she’d come to terms with her overdue end, hoping that it would be one her son could be proud of. 

A sacrifice that maybe he’d one day come to view as proof that she hadn’t been all Evil.

But they hadn’t and so now all there is left is saving her son.

She will not fail him again. 

No matter the cost.

They reach the shores of Neverland four days after they’d left Storybrooke.

Four long, terrible days after Greg and Tamara had kidnapped Henry, carrying him to the dangerous domain of demons, angry children and few rules that make any kind of sense. Throughout the time at sea, Regina had staunchly remained as distant as she’s ever been, refusing casual conversation and pointedly seeking out solitary places to hide away in. When pressed to open up or even tell the others how she feels about, well, anything, she’s simply turned and walked away, making it clear that she has no interest in any kind of small talk. It’s concerning in a way that’s somewhat unique, even for Regina.

While the mayor has always been mercurial and moody and thus prone to bitter fits of self-indulgence, self-loathing and brooding, she’s seldom been without a sharp retort, a clever barb or a snarky bit of back-and-forth. In fact, Emma would argue that much of their relationship in Storybrooke had been characterized by their explosive (and often creative and snappy) arguments. This, though, is something else. The Regina currently on this journey with them seems like she is someone else. Any other time, that might be a good thing, but considering what they’re about to go up against, they need their strongest configurations in play.

They need the Queen.

Emma - the only one she seems willing to spare even a few words for - tries to tell her as much. Tries to tell her that their messy histories and everything else between this weird group of theirs needs to take a backseat until they get Henry back (actually, what she says is “Maybe it’s time to put our issues behind us and maybe try something better”). Regina’s only reply is a quiet, “I know.”

“Regina -“

“He’s going to make it home,” Regina announces, like she thinks that will end the conversation.

You’d think after two years of sparring with Emma, she’d know better; the sheriff has never been one for leaving anything alone and she’s certainly not about to stay hands-off about the strange behavior coming from her co-mother. Instead, hands rested on her hips, Emma says, “That kind of sounds like you’re not planning to make it home with him. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“What you are, Miss Swan, is tedious.”

“Probably, but that wasn’t an answer. Try again. This time without the deflection.”

“We don’t have time for this,” Regina snaps, motioning towards the land now coming more into view. Hook is carefully steering the Jolly Roger out to a familiar anchor point (hundreds of years lurking these islands have given him a kind of unsettling comfort with this area) and from there, they’ll take a dinghy out to the shore and start whatever grim, sweaty adventure this is to be.

“We have a little time,” Emma shrugs. “Enough for this conversation.”

Regina glances upwards, noticing the sun above stuck behind a thick layer of clouds. While Neverland does experience night and day, the overcast nature and high humidity of it tends to make it feel like walking through an eternal dusk (or at least that’s how Rumple has described it and she doesn’t doubt her teacher with descriptions such as these - he can be dramatic and fanciful, but his warnings are almost always apt). “We need to find Henry,” she says, softly.

Emma takes a step forward, stopping just shy of touching Regina, her eyes on the fierce shaking of Regina's elegant hands. “Hey, we will. We will.”

“We have to,” Regina replies and then she’s walking away. Like that’s the end of the conversation. For her, it obviously is, but for Emma, it’s just one more bit of worry.

Like any of them need a little more.

An hour later, they’re loading up the dinghy to go to shore, and while Regina is certainly helping out (without even a bit of protest), she remains just as quiet and morose as before. It seems clear that she’s distracted, unable to focus on more than her one basic goal: save Henry.

Even if that means everyone else dies.

Emma has no intention of dying on this awful, humidity-drenched teenage boy filled island.

“All right, then,” Hook announces. “I believe that’s everything we’ll need.”

“Then you should be off,” Rumple announces. He’d already informed them all that he has no intention of going on a family camping trip with this group of do-gooders (and their “pet Queen”; honestly, it’s alarming that Regina hadn’t responded to that barb with more than an eyebrow lifting in annoyance) and will handle things on his own. The odds of that working out doesn’t seem great, but no one is exactly biting at the bit to spend more time with Mr. Gold.

Especially Regina, Emma thinks as she looks over at the mayor, noticing that her co-mother is again staring at the shore, eyes narrowed like she’s certain if she looks hard enough, she’ll find what she’s looking for. Wouldn’t that be nice? Unlikely, unfortunately and Regina of all people is the very last one to indulge in magical thinking (pun not intended). She might be an all-powerful witch capable of extraordinary displays of magic, but she’s also deeply cynical and pessimistic.

Utterly incapable of expecting or hoping for the best in anything.

Emma has a feeling that she’ll need to figure out a way to change Regina’s perspective if they’re going to have a chance in - well, Neverland - of getting out of this mess alive. That is, assuming, Regina plans to do so. Right now, it seems clear to Emma that she likely does not.

“If you find him,” Charming starts, his hand rested lightly against the sword at his hip.

“I’ll bring him back to you,” Rumple answers smugly, making it clear he has no intention of involving the others even if he were to find Henry first. It’s an utterly unacceptable declaration - their best chance of saving Henry is working together and all of them, even Regina, knows as much - but Rumple will always do what’s best for Rumple.

Which makes Emma even warier of him because while his intent might be to save Henry for the sake of Bae, he’s not someone she trusts even a little bit, and she can’t quite escape the nagging feeling that he has an entirely secondary reason for being here. And not a good one.

Curiously, Regina seems utterly disinterested in him, her eyes flickering from a brief glance at Rumple to looking outwards towards the water and the land just beyond it once again. It’s then, as Emma is studying the Queen, that she notices the way Regina’s left hand is once again shaking.

Trembling fiercely, really.

After a moment, Regina notices it as well and clenches her hand into a fist, tucking it against her side and then looking right at Emma as if to dare her to mention it. Normally, Regina would know better than to do such a thing because normally, such a challenge would be faced head-on. But these aren’t normal times and the off-kilter of the mayor worries and delates her far more than her need to push back energizes her. Something is very, very wrong with Regina.

Not that Regina will admit to as much and in this larger group, Emma is loathe to press.

But Rumple, utterly contemptible bastard that he is, doesn’t share the same restraint. With a smirk just a tick shy of smarmy and cruel, the Dark One says, “You don’t look so well, Your Majesty.” He waits until her eyes meet his and then barrels forward with, “Did all of your time as Mr. Mendell’s unfortunate guest leave you a bit worse for wear? Perhaps you should stay behind on Hook’s little boat - it’d be a terrible thing, indeed, if you were to fail your boy again.”

“Gold!” Mary-Margaret exclaims, because even at her angriest with Regina, even she wouldn’t have gone there. There’s a lot of bad blood between the Queen and Snow White, but the one thing no one has ever really doubted is the lengths she will go to for Henry. That she’d been willing to die to ensure that he - and her enemies by extension -had  lived had shown as much.

“You’re out of line,” Emma growls, turning her body slightly as if to step in front of Regina.

Not that Regina needs anyone protecting her.

And yet, weirdly, she doesn’t fire back. Doesn’t toss a barrage of sharp insults and cutting retorts back at her teacher. Instead, seeming almost too tired to be standing, the Queen merely says, “I’m fine and I’ll be fine when it matters. I won’t let Henry down. I promise you that.”

And then she’s walking towards the dinghy, evading the worried gazes from the Charmings and Hook - and even from Rumple, himself. He’d been trying to shove her into an emotional response, trying to get her to respond with her typical bombastic fire and rage. Instead, he’d gotten the same muted, almost dull response that seems to have characterized the Queen’s odd behavior even since they’d gotten on the Jolly Roger. Perhaps before that, Emma muses.

All the way back to the loft, when Regina had been preparing to sacrifice herself but hadn’t wanted to ruin her assumed last moments with Henry by telling him of her plan. He wouldn’t have been okay with it - when he’d eventually found out, he hadn’t been okay with it. Which is at least part of the reason why they’re here now, and Emma suspects that Regina more than any of them is dwelling on that reality to the detriment of her already fragile mental health.

“This is a problem,” Charming murmurs.

“A big one,” Emma agrees and then she’s following after Regina and seating herself on the wooden seat plank opposite the Queen, her gaze immediately finding Regina’s nearly blank one. Just barely managing to suppress a shudder of unease, Emma thinks to again try and start a conversation - thinks to try to drag a reaction out of the woman - but years and years of chasing those who don’t want to be found and are hiding from something or other has taught her that when someone is running scared, forcing them to face what’s terrifying them before they’re ready to do so seldom ends up well for anyone. They’re going to have to wait her out.  

And hope that they - and Henry - have the time to wait for her to find her fire and flare.

She’s not sure that they do.

They reach the island just before dusk, an already cloying humidity and all-encompassing  darkness sweeping over them like a thick cloak. Their clothes are soaked through with sweat within moments of moving inland, the front of Emma’s tank noticeably damp and Regina’s button-up shirt dropped down to around cleavage level to give her the slightest bit of relief. 

“Here seems as good as anywhere,” Hook notes, gesturing towards a curiously burnt-out clearing, the tree-line around it pushed back several feet in every direction. It’s perhaps a bit too out in the open and exposed, but at the same time, it permits a three-sixty view of the surrounding trees. Nothing will be able to help them if they get surrounded, but this might give them at least a fighting chance to respond due to the lack of trees immediately upon them.

“What happened here?” Snow queries, frowning as she looks around.

“Mass execution,” Regina comments, her tone flat and emotionless.

Emma turns sharply. “What?”

It’s Hook who picks up the story, pointing towards the trees. “See the outlines?” And sure enough, when they look closely, they can see multi-colored burn marks on many of the surrounding tree trunks, each of them in the shape of what appears to be a an adult human body. A look closer to where they’re standing shows that the flames had jumped from the trees, run across the ground and combined in the middle of the clearing before dying out. 

“They -“ David stops, looking sick. 

“The crocodile may be a monster, but he’s not wrong,” Hook notes, grimly. “Pan is an actual demon and what he does to those who defy him is the stuff of nightmares. We can get your boy back - we will get your boy back - but we shouldn’t delude ourselves as to Pan’s threat.”

“We won’t,” Snow assures them. Then, to Hook, “Are you sure we’re safe…here?”

“There’s pretty much nowhere on this island that we’re safe, but out in open air is our best bet. Pan isn’t the type to sacrifice his soldiers for no reason - he knows his power derives from his ability to get them to do unspeakable things for him and them dying doesn’t ensure that.”

“So we camp here,” Emma confirms and tosses her pack onto the ground, her hands settling on her hips as she looks around at the others, hoping that they’ll accept her leadership without unnecessary arguing. Each of them is carrying their own supplies, within their packs is a bedroll, a canteen and a bit of the dry foodstuffs that they’d been able to source from Hook’s galley. He’d assured them that there would be abundant food to be found on Neverland, but being able to settle in on this first night and not go immediately foraging is certainly a plus.

Especially considering how much Regina looks like she’d prefer to get right to the searching for Henry part of things. They all would, but they need to get their bearings and Hook has been constant in his dire warnings that they should try to move around more during than the day than at night. “Night is his time,” Hook had warned them. “When he’s at his most powerful.”

“Is it wise to sleep, then?” Emma had queried.

“Trust me, if he comes for us, we’ll wake up.”

Emma hadn’t doubted him for a moment; Hook’s PTSD with this place is apparent. Not like they don’t have enough other PTSD going around. Far too much to feel safe, to be honest. But, well, she supposes they’re all going to have to confront their demons one way or another. 

“I’ll get a fire started,” David confirms and then he’s setting his bag. 

Snow asks, “Is that okay? Will a fire alert him to where we are?”

“He knows where we are,” Regina says softly and then she’s walking a few feet away from the group and gently setting her own pack down, bending (with a wince, Emma notices) and removing the sleeping bag from it. She spreads it carefully, almost methodically, like everything she’s doing right now is precise and strategic. Like she’s going through checkbox motions.

“This is a problem,” David says for the second time today, frowning as he watches Regina. He’s still right, but for the moment, it’s a problem without an immediate solution.  

So instead, Emma sighs and says as she holds up the strange fiber bar that had been in Hook’s galley, “I think this is blueberry. I hate blueberry. Anyone have anything better?”

“Aye, lass, I got you,” Hook grins, throwing her his most dashing smile.

Like he thinks seducing her will be as easy as trading breakfast bars.

One look over at Regina, who is now on her back staring up at the sky, and Emma knows without a doubt that nothing on this island is going to come easy for any of them.

When she first puts her head down onto her makeshift pillow (her windbreaker bunched up), Emma is certain that she won’t be able to fall asleep. Too amped, too anxious and frankly, too scared. About a lot of things - Henry, obviously and primarily, but also the side-quest that Gold is on has her on-edge, the hyper on-ness of her parents is grating on her and then there’s Regina. And God only knows what’s going on with her right now. In any case, Emma expects all of those things (and more) to keep her awake, but before she knows it, she’s blinking awake.

Needing to pee in the middle of the night.

In fucking Neverland.

Sighing, she staggers up and glances around, first finding her parents curled up together about ten feet away, their sleeping bags opened up to be slung across both of them. About five feet away from them is Hook, looking deceptively calm and comfortable. Considering his likely very dark history here in Neverland, she imagines he’s anything but that. And still he slumbers.

Emma turns a few feet to the right, anticipating seeing the mercurial Queen where she’d been earlier in the evening, arms crossed over her body, her head settled on her jacket, eyes closed as she pretends to sleep so as to discourage anyone from trying to talk to her.  That’s what Emma is expecting to find, but it’s not what she does find. Instead, she sees an empty spot where Regina had been previously and a cozy fire popping in the middle of the camp. A fire that Emma knows had gone nearly out before they’d all turned in, but is now quite healthy.

Hesitantly, but curiously, Emma makes her way over, noting that Regina has seated herself on one of the logs that they’d found deep in the middle of the woods. It’s certainly seen better days, Emma muses, noting the moss growing out of it and how the bark is peeling off. Still, that’s hardly the most relevant factor right now - that Regina isn’t entirely hiding away is.

So Emma takes a seat on the log across from Regina and says mildly, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Regina shrugs and pokes at the fire with a stick. “Why aren't you sleeping?”

“Why aren’t you?” Emma lobs back.

“Too many thoughts.”

Sensing an opening, Emma gently proceeds, “I can relate. Want to talk about them?”

Regina looks up at her, then, her eyes oddly soft and wounded. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to pretend to give a damn about me? We both know you don’t.”

For a moment, Emma says nothing. It’s a good question, and yet she finds herself chafing under the idea that she doesn’t care about this woman when she very clearly does. 

Why? Well, she doesn’t have an answer for that (she tells herself for Henry, but there’s always been a deeper connection between his mothers, one not quite defined by their histories or their often furious emotions, but rather by the fascinating bond they seem to have in spite of every attempt both of them have made to not have one). She doesn’t know why she gives a damn about this woman - this tyrant who has caused her and her family such pain. But she does.

And so she says so, “Maybe I do.”

“Why?” Regina presses once more. “Why do you care about me after all I’ve done to your family? After everything I’ve done to you? Why would you give a damn about me? Because you’re Good and Good people…” she laughs darkly at that and shakes her head in dismay.

“No, not because I’m…Good…but because someone should…care about you.”

That earns her a cold laugh. “Yes, of course; have pity on the Queen.”

“I was thinking more maybe I can show you that not everything has to be so dark and dire, but sure if you want to call it pity, then go right ahead. It’s late and I’m tired -“

“Go back to sleep,” Regina urges, her tone almost gentle. “I don’t need…I’m fine.”

“You know, this is the first time you’ve said more than five words to me since we left Storybrooke. I know you aren’t sleeping and your hands keep shaking. You’re not okay.”

“I will be when it matters.”

“You keep saying that, and I don’t doubt it, but…you aren’t okay right now.”

Regina looks right at the inquisitive sheriff, her honey-brown eyes swirling with a hundred different emotions that seem impossible to have coexisting. And yet they are because that’s the nature of Regina Mills - at all times, she is complicated and messy and an enigma. Maybe that’s the appeal, Emma thinks as she meets Regina’s gaze. Maybe their mutual complexity binds them to each other in a kind of unspoken understanding even as they push away.

Or at least Regina does.

But for the moment, she isn’t, and Emma means to make the most of this chance. 

“You should have let me die down there,” Regina finally states, almost inaudibly.

“Henry wouldn’t have been okay with that.”

“But you would have and you should have done it, anyway."

“I was going to,” Emma admits. “I thought…I guess I thought maybe it was redemption for you.”

“And a new start for you.”

“I’ve never claimed I’m not selfish. I…I guess maybe I did think it’d be easier if…” she trails off.

“If I was dead. It’s okay; you would have been right. It’d have been better for everyone.”

“Except Henry.”

Regina laughs bitterly at that. “Especially Henry. He wouldn’t be here. None of us would be.”

“But we are, anyway and maybe I'm thinking there are better ways to get redemption."

“Not for me,” Regina announces and then she stands up. She flicks her hand and the flames go out, petering down to just glowing embers at the bottom of the pile of wood. She walks away without another word and without a look back, leaving Emma staring after her in confusion.

Utterly perplexed about the conversation they’d just had and what any of it had meant. 

As she watches thoughtfully, she sees Regina gingerly settle herself on her sleeping bag (and even from here, Emma can see the unsettlingly violent tremor that slides its way through the Queen’s lithe frame), her arms crossing her chest in an almost protective motion, a clear sign that she’s closing herself off. She considers crossing over to her and trying to continue their conversation, but something tells her that - at least - for now, she needs to be patient.

And so she determines as she steps into the woods to do her business, she will be.

Because Henry matters most - getting him home safely is more important than anything else - but the more and more she thinks about it, the more she realizes that she does genuinely care. She’s just not sure she has a real answer to Regina’s question of “why” she hadn't just let her die - no just yet, anyway, but she rather suspects that before this journey of theirs is over, she’ll have all the answers she can handle.

And then some.

Chapter Text

When Emma comes to in the morning, that oppressive overwhelming humidity is back and her shirt is already soaked through once again. “Gonna be that kind of day,” she mutters to herself as she gets up, cracking her back upon rising. This time, when she looks around the camp, she turns her gaze towards the fire.

And is once again startled to find Regina sitting by it.

Only this time, she’s there with the others -David, Hook and Mary-Margaret.

“Morning,” Emma says as she gingerly approaches, her limbs stiff and cranky.

“Morning,” Snow says softly. “Breakfast.” She indicates towards the pit where some kind of strange animal is turning on a hastily erected spit. “It’s better than the chimera.”

“Sure,” Emma agrees, because it almost has to be. “Who went out hunting?”

“I did,” Regina says, simply, and then stands up and walks away.

“Wait - she did? Regina hunts?”

“Regina has a lot of hidden talents,” Snow notes, eyes flickering to follow after the brooding brunette.

“Has she said much?” Emma asks as she accepts a wooden bowl of the strange meat. They hadn’t brought many supplies in their packs for obvious reasons - no one wants to hike across Neverland with a ton of weight on their backs - but each of them has at least a bowl and one or two pieces of basic cook-out gear precisely so as to be able to prepare any caught game.

“Nay,” Hook shrugs. “Her Majesty is quieter than I’ve ever seen her.”

“She has a lot on her mind,” Emma supplies.

“And she’s still hurt,” Snow puts in, her eyes still on Regina’s back as the Queen packs up her area of the camp, rolling her bedroll and carefully connecting it to her bag. Though she very clearly tries to, she isn’t able to hide another tremor causing her frame to bend forward. 

“She died,” Hook says, his voice almost inaudible, guilt making him bow his head slightly.

“Almost,” Charming corrects. “We got to her before Mendell…finished.”

“Not quite. She did actually die, mate. He brought her back. Twice.” And then Hook is rising up from the log he’d been sitting on and walking in the opposite direction of the fire. He - like Regina - is a deeply complicated person with too many ghosts and demons chasing him at all times. Calling one or the other a villain - or a monster - might come easy because of their deeds, but it hardly sums up either of them and the dark roads they’ve been forced down. Whatever had occurred between he and the Queen that had led to him handing her over to Greg and Tamara, it seems clear that it’s not something he takes any pride in. Especially considering what he apparently knows that they don’t.  Things like Regina having died twice over the two days that she’d been tortured. 

“We’re going to need her to get us - and Henry - off this island,” Snow reminds them.

“She won’t let him down,” Emma insists. “Whatever that takes, she won’t.”

“You’re worried about her,” Charming observes, his head tilted in curiosity. 

Emma stabs at the meat in the bowl for a few moment - it’s not particularly tasty and it’s far chewier than she cares for, but for being fresh meat, it’s decent. And as her mother had pointed out, it’s not chimera. “I’ve been worried about her since the day I first I met her. She’s never been exactly what anyone would call aggressively sane.”

“We’ll make sure she makes it home with us,” Snow states, her eyes too keen to argue with. 

Emma nods, finishes her breakfast and stands, “We need to get moving.” She turns her head to acknowledge Hook as he reappears. “Travel throughout the day, I assume?”

“If we want to live.”

“And we do,” Emma nods. “Okay, Hook, what direction are we going in?”

He points west. “There’s old friend we need to find. One who will know how to find Pan.”

“Then that’s where we go,” Regina states as she passes by, heading west, not even bothering to wait for everyone else to break camp.

Emma sighs; it’s going to be a long fucking day.

 Likely one of many.

By mid-day, Emma is beginning to wonder if all the stories about Neverland are just myths and urban legends. They’ve been hiking for several hours now, moving through dense jungle and over rocks and fallen trees. It’s grueling for sure, and Emma would kill for a shower, but the worst danger they’ve faced thus far has been in the form of the big as your fist bugs that seem to be everywhere. Hook assures them that the bugs aren’t venomous but they’re still annoying.

Though, it is amusing to watch Regina pass time by absently lighting a few of them on fire.

Aside from that, though, there’s been little to no action and Emma says as much. Which naturally is when they suddenly hear the strange hooting.

“Any chance that’s an owl?” David queries, unsheathing his sword. 

“No,” Regina answers dryly, fire appearing in her palm. 

“They’re here,” Hooks says, grimly, his own blade drawn. His expression is entirely devoid of the usual cocky mirth that he uses as a shield against the darkness of his life. He’s scared, Emma thinks, and that scares her. Because in a place like this, their best weapons are absolutely the darker souls like Regina, Hook and Rumple who have been willing in the past to cross any line to accomplish what must be accomplished. Good people tend to view these acts as abominations - ethical missteps that gray the lines between Good and Evil. Emma knows better - she believes in morality, but understands sometimes it has to flexible.

Especially when you’re going up against demons as they now apparently are.

The trees shift, branches being pulled back and then in a flash, they’re surrounded by multiple teenage boys wearing vividly colored face-paint and armed with knives, swords and bows. “Welcome to Neverland,” they hear. “You’ve come a long way just to say hello and goodbye,” a voice says and then a young boy with chubby cheeks and bright eyes steps out from the shadows. “I’m Peter."

“Don’t care. Where’s my son?” Regina demands, showing him the fire in her palm.

“Her son -“ he gestures towards Emma. “Is safely away from you, Your Majesty.”

Regina glowers, but doesn’t reply, only her dark eyes showing the pain of his words.

Of a likely direct hit to her heart.

“Since you clearly know who we are already, the question is, are you here to negotiate or threaten us?” Snow queries, trying to stop the obvious hurt of the moment from increasing. One look over at Emma and she can tell that her daughter is struggling to figure out how to make this better - how to reassure Regina. The problem is, it’s impossible to reassure her when it’s clear that Regina entirely believes that Pan is right.

Pan laughs. “Why would I negotiate with you? Henry’s one of us now and that’s never going to change, Snow White. It’s best you all just accept that and turn around and leave.”

“You know we won’t,” Emma shoots back, sparing a glance over at Regina. Who continues to stare right at Pan, her dark eyes unreadable, but the fire in her palm unwavering. 

“No,” Peter concurs. He looks back at the other boys behind him, and then smirks in a way that seems to go well beyond malicious into something downright evil. “Because your mothers aren’t you? You think you’ll just come storming in and save the day, rescue your baby boy. But that’s not going to happen. Once they’re mine - once they’re here - they never leave.”

“Sometimes they do,” Hook reminds him, and Emma thinks of what she'd learned about Neal - formerly Baelfire - from Hook as far as his time here in Neverland.

The reminder of the past - surely Pan is thinking about Bae as well - seems to get Pan’s attention and crack his smugness. He looks over at Hook. “Killian, I figured you’d never come back after all I took from you. Glutton for punishment, then?”

“Unfinished business,” Hook sneers and gestures with his sword like he’s challenging Pan.

“We’ll see. Anyway, I mostly came to say hello and give you a last chance to flee.” His eyes flicker back to Regina and Emma. “You’re not the first mothers to think they can take back what’s mine, and you won’t be the last. But you will end up the same way the rest have.”

“Dead?” Regina prompts.

“Feeding the jungle.” He smirks at her. “You never should have come here. Not like you are.”

“I’m not afraid of you, you spoiled little demon brat.”

“More than anyone else, Your Majesty, you should be.” And then he’s motioning to the boys to retreat, stepping back himself. “You all have until nightfall to leave. After that, the hunt is on, and I promise you, I don't lose."

And then he’s gone, the shadows seeming to swallow him whole.

Leaving the group to just stare awkwardly, uncomfortably, emotionally at one another.

Until Emma clears her throat and says, “That friend of yours, Hook? How do we find them?”

“Right.” He motions forward. “This way.”

“You know he’s full of shit, right?” Emma asks as she drops back to talk to Regina.

The whole group has been walking for almost two hours now, saying nothing to each other since the strange confrontation with Pan. Regina has been trailing, moving slowly, clearly pained but unwilling to admit to it as she’s forced her wounded body forward. Sweat beads her forehead and her hands keep trembling like there’s some kind of charge running through them. Emma wonders if she’s still experiencing the after-effects of being electrocuted for two days.

Regina says nothing in response, just reaches down to her belt, removes her canteen and takes a healthy swig of it before offering it to Emma. The moment Emma takes it, Regina walks past her, catching up with Hook instead. A simple nod of understanding between them. They’ll never push each other, never expect more and never demand the truth or ask for trust. A perfect relationship (of sorts) to hide behind when you’re trying to hide from everything. 

Emma sighs and falls in with her parents, offering her father the canteen. “Worth a try,” Snow suggests.

“Henry loves her,” Emma states, unequivocal in her statement. Because she remembers how he’d begged Emma to save his mother and then once again pleaded with his family to go back for her and when it had mattered most, he’d been in Regina’s arms, forgiving her. 

“I know,” Snow soothes. “But it’s hard to convince someone of the good things they might have in their life when they’re desperate to only see the worst of themselves.”

“I can hear all of you,” Regina says, as she drops back. “Hook says his friend is right around the corner, but that we need to approach her carefully. Apparently there are traps.”

“Of course there are,” David grunts, sword out once again.

“Regina -“ Emma starts, but Regina is shaking her head and catching back up to Hook.

“Did you two have another argument that I’m unaware of?” Snow asks.

“If we did, I’m as unaware of it as you are,” Emma shrugs, helplessly. She thinks to tell her parents of the talk she’d had with Regina the prior evening, but that feels like breaking a trust for reasons she can’t quite understand. Whatever is going on with Regina - whatever her reasons are for running hot and cold on conversations -  it needs to stay between them.

“Heads up,” Hook calls back to them. “Chatter down. Tink doesn’t like visitors.”

Emma both sees and feels the way Regina stiffens up, the air around her seeming to suddenly grow tense as the Queen growls out, “As in Tinkerbell? You brought us to a fucking fairy?”

“Aye. She knows Pan better than anyone.”

“Isn’t she his…friend? Of sorts?” Emma asks, thinking back to the movies she’s seen and how Tink has often been portrayed as petty, jealous, at times malicious and often scheming. The movies have always suggested a kind of unresolved romance between the fairy and Peter.

Hook laughs. “Decidedly no.” He holds up a finger to quiet them, then steps into the bushes.

Emma’s about to follow when she notices that Regina has dropped back again, walking silently beside her, her shaking hands clenching and unclenching. “I take it you’re not a Tink fan?”

Regina looks up at her. Thinks for a moment, then begrudgingly allows, “We have history.”

“You and Tinkerbell have history,” Snow repeats, coming up beside Emma. Frowning deeply. 

Immediately, Regina retreats (something both Emma and Snow notice, but don’t know quite what to make of). “The rest of you should go ahead and get her. I’ll stay back."

“We go together,” Emma insists.

“Not if we want to succeed in getting her help. She hates me. For good reason."  And then she’s dropping down onto a tree stump, folding her shaking hands into her lap. 

“Emma,” Charming urges, touching her arm lightly. “We can deal with this later.”

“Right.” She casts one more look back at Regina and then, with her parents, follows after Hook, disappearing into the thick foliage that surrounds and protects Tink’s hide-out.

Her home - of sorts - appears to be high up in the trees, surrounded by shrubbery and just barely visible. There’s a faint glimmer of magic around - presumably either to protect it or to act as some kind of home invasion alarm - and a few easily spotted traps, but little more. Still, every instinct in Emma’s body is telling her to be cautious here. To be careful about all of this.

“How do we get up there?” David asks, looking upwards.

“You don’t,” a cold voice says from behind them.

“Ah, Tink, my love,” Hook grins as he turns around. “It’s been a minute.”

“Not a long enough one, Hook,” the fairy states. Dressed in clothes similar to the Lost Boys, but darker and clearly meant more to hide her than just to blend in, her blonde hair is messy and unkempt and there’s a kind of wildness in her eyes. A long scar mars the left side of her face, running from just beneath her eye to across her cheekbone. 

“I missed you,” he insists, and sounds sincere.

“And yet you left me here,” she snaps back. 

“There wasn’t the choice you think there was. Had there been, I would never have left you.”

“So you say.” She then motions to the others. “Who are they?”

“People who need your help.” He gestures towards Emma, then frowns as he notices for the first time that Regina hasn’t joined them. “Her boy, Henry, was brought here.”

“Not my problem.”

“Because you’re working with Pan?” Snow accuses.

Tink laughs loudly, humorlessly, sounding just a hair shy of mad. She gestures towards the scar on her face, waving her hand wildly as she announces, “Pan did this to me. The last time I tried to help a mother get her son back from him? It didn’t go well for me. You’re on your own.”

“So you’re not only a meddler, but also a coward,” Regina says as she steps out from the bushes and makes herself seen. “Why am I not surprised?”

Tink growls. “Regina.”

“Fairy.”

Tinkerbell looks over at the others. “I don’t understand; why is she here? She's a monster."

“No, she's - she's here because she and I share a son,” Emma explains. And yeah, every single time that she does, it becomes harder and harder to explain it in a way that doesn’t make them sound like more.  But they aren’t more…they’re just…well, she doesn’t know what they are. Not really.

“That’s not possible. She’s not capable of loving anything or anyone. She’s too evil for that.”

“I can love,” Regina says, softly. “You know I can.”

“No, you’re...you're evil.”

“I am,” Regina agrees. “But my son shouldn’t suffer for that.”

“What if my price to help you is your life?”

“No,” Emma says without hesitation.

“No,” Snow echoes. “We don’t trade lives.”

Tink ignores them. “Would you give yourself to me if it meant I’d help save the boy?”

“If that’s your price, I’ll willing pay it.” Regina holds her hands out in surrender.

Noting the way Regina's offered hands are trembling, Tink narrows her eyes in suspicion, like she’s searching for the trick. Like she’s trying to understand how this woman in front of her - shaky, unsteady and hollow - could be the same one as the one she remembers. The one who had spurned her and then allowed her to be punished. The one whose refusal to be happy and take a chance on love had led to both of their downfalls. “You’re different,” Tink observes. “Wounded.”

Regina shakes her head. “No. Yes. It doesn’t matter.”

“Then why should I help you? Why should I trust you?”

“You shouldn’t. You should trust them.” She motions to Snow, David and Emma. 

Tink turns her attention to them, finally seeming to recognize those in front of her. “Snow White and Prince Charming,” she sums up. “Mortal enemies of the Evil Queen. Strange bedfellows.”

“The strangest,” David acknowledges. “But we need your help. Please.”

She nods slowly. Then turns back to Regina. “I want your heart as collateral.”

“No!” Emma says once more, jerking forward.

But again, Regina steps in front of her, and without hesitation, she yanks the bruised and darkened organ out of her chest, almost sighing in relief as it pops loose in her palm. It’s smaller than one would think a heart should be, covered in a black oily substance that seems to be suffocating the red trying to peak its way out from underneath. 

Tink furrows her brow in confusion, staring down at the heart that Regina is offering her. Staring down at the easiest way to torture and kill the Evil Queen. To get her revenge. 

“Regina,” Snow pleads. 

“There has to be another way,” Emma insists. “We’re your collateral.”

“None of you owe me what she does.” And then she’s taking the heart from the Queen, squeezing it as she does and watching as Regina buckles beneath the pain.

“Tink,” Hook warns. “You don’t need to do this. The Queen is already felled.”

“She is, isn’t she?” Tink murmurs, more to herself than anyone else. She stands over Regina, glowering down at the once proud Queen. “You owe me everything.”

"Stop this," Emma pleads. "It's not helping."

Ignoring Emma's attempt to protect her, Regina looks up at Tink. “You can have whatever you want; just save my son.”

“Fine,” Tink says, stepping away. “But this stays with me. That way, when the time comes when you betray everyone - and you will - I’ll be able to stop you once and for all.”

Regina stands back up, pale and exhausted, but meeting Tink’s eyes. She echoes, “Fine.”

“All right,” Tink agrees, turning back to the others. “I’ll help you. Or…the map will.”

“The map?” Snow repeats. 

“It’s a magical map that was created by the island. Don’t ask me how - none of the magic here on Neverland makes much sense. If you can get it to hear you, it will lead you to the boy.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” Emma demands.

“You’ll know,” Tink replies, cryptically.

“Fine; where do we find the map?” David asks. 

“That part, I can help you with. “ She wiggles her fingers and there’s a whoosh of fairy dust and then a parchment is appearing in her hands. “I don’t have enough magic to try to coerce it into showing you what you need to see, but I think you probably do.” She looks up at Emma.

“I…mine isn’t really refined. I…barely know how to use it.”

“Well, you’d better figure it out because this map is all the help I can give you.”

“We’ll take it,” Snow assures her and does just that, folding it against her body.

“Aye, we are appreciative, Tink.”

“I’m sure you are, Captain. Our business isn’t done, either.”

He smiles at her, affection clear in his eyes. “I know.”

“Good. Then all of you should go. I’ve managed to stay off his radar for quite awhile now -“

“We’ll go,” Emma states. “But we’ll be back for Regina’s heart.”

“I never said I was planning to give it back.”

Emma starts to argue but then Regina’s shaky hand is settling over her wrist, startling her because the two of them? They don’t really touch and certainly not in a gentle or kind way. And yet this touch is exactly that. Soft and delicate even as it trembles, fingers lightly pressing into skin and bone, but not in a way that’s meant to hurt or harm, but rather to reassure and ask Emma to back off.

“It’s okay,” Regina assures her. “Henry is all that matters.” And then she’s walking away, disappearing back through the foliage, her steps light even as she trembles.

“She’s wounded,” Tink observes. “She looks ill; unsteady.”

“You took her heart from her,” Emma retorts.

“Maybe, but that’s not what’s hurting her. Someone did that to her. Why?”

“Not our story to tell,” Snow announces, no doubt thinking of her own past with Regina.

“Regardless, she’ll be all right,” the sheriff declares. “And we will be back for her heart.”

“If I were you, I’d worry less about the Queen and more about what Peter is doing to your boy. Kids here, they change. Even good kids. He warps their minds and turns them feral and mean. If you don't get to your son quickly, there might not be anyone left for you to save."

“We won’t let that happen to Henry,” Snow insists.

“Aye, Tink's right to warn us,” Hook supplies, his tone grim. “Over the years, I faced off against far too many young lads who had been warped by Pan. There was little left of who’d they been. We need to get to him.”

“Be well,” Tink offers as way of dismissal and then she’s turning away, stopping only so that she can add on, “I knew Regina before she was the Evil Queen, when she was just a young, frightened queen falling deeper and deeper into madness and despair. I gave her a chance for happiness - a chance to start over and be happy - and she turned her back on it and chose evil and hatred, instead. I paid a terrible price for her choices. So will you if you trust her.”

And then she’s gone, just a spray of pixie dust in the air.

“Well,” Emma says after a few long moments. “That was…something.”

“Something, indeed, Swan,” Hook agrees and then leads them back out into the jungle.

They stop and set up camp about an hour later, recognizing the exhaustion of their party as well as the need to slow down and think about how to get the map to reveal itself. The area they choose for this night is just as open as the previous one, the tree-line ten feet back. Dinner is some gamey bird thing Hook and David catch; it’s as tasteless as breakfast, but ostensibly it's protein rich so it will have to do. Emma watches as Regina picks through her bowl, only eating a few bites before she stands up and walks away, clearly intending to turn in for the night. They really should all talk about the map, but after the day they’ve had, a night of sleep might be more helpful.

“Should we worry about his threat to hunt us if we don’t leave as of tonight?” Snow asks.

“He’s Pan,” Hook shrugs. “He knew we weren’t turning around.”

“Meaning what?” David queries.

“Meaning he’s not sure he can defeat us just yet,” Emma surmises.

“He wants us to defeat ourselves first so he’ll watch us and try to figure out our strengths and weaknesses and who is the easiest to pick off,” Hook glances over at Regina. 

“Regina with a heart was pretty scary,” David reminds them. “But without -“

“I’m not sure it matters,” Snow murmurs. Then, looking into the inquisitive expressions of her companions, she smiles softly and adds, “Regina has always loved intensely. Probably more than was ever safe for her to do. With or without a heart, nothing will keep her from Henry.”

“Tink said she’d betray us,” David recalls, frowning as his protectiveness of his family emerges.

“She won’t,” Emma states and the definitive nature of her words ends the conversation.

After that, it’s just the stars and the moon high above.

That is until Emma wakes up a few hours later once again needing to pee.

“Hey,” Emma says as she approaches, seeing Regina sitting in front of the fire just as she’d been previously. She’s warming her hands by the flames, eyes on them.

Regina looks up at her. “I’m sorry if I woke you up.”

Emma frowns at that. “No. Nature did. As in needing to pee, not the bird we ate for dinner.”

Regina smirks, but doesn’t say anything.

“So, you want to tell me what today was all about? Between you and Tinkerbell, I mean.”

Regina looks up at her. “What makes you think I want to talk about it now more than before?”

“Because you’re talking to me now, and apparently you’re only willing to do that at night.”

Regina hums, but doesn’t contest Emma’s words.

Almost a minute passes before Emma presses again. “So?”

Regina sighs. “Long, long ago, Tink tried to save me from my fate. I was married and depressed and falling into Rumple’s grand plan a little more every day. My life was a misery and I didn’t see a way out beyond learning magic and trying to be stronger. And then there was Tink offering me a different way: choosing to love again. She used stolen pixie dust to point me towards my supposed soulmate - a drunk thief with a dozen warrants out for his arrest. I can’t imagine how that could have possibly led to me a better, happier, safer life but I did consider it. I thought about what it would be like to be touched by someone who didn’t want to own and hurt me. I thought about what it would be like to have love again. To let go of my anger and my fear and to believe in hope again . And…I couldn’t. Without my anger, I felt weightless. Like if I just let it go, I’d float away into nothingness. It was all I had and I…I held onto it.” She shakes her head in disgust and then returns to warming her hands by the fire, rubbing them together.

“Cold?” Emma asks, frowning, because while it’s cooler than it’d been during the day by a substantial margin, it’s still fairly sweltering. And yet she’s seen Regina shiver at least twice. More residual from the torture or from -

“A common side-effect of being heartless; you’re cold as ice,” Regina answers with what’s meant to be a disaffected shrug, but doesn’t quite get there. She chuckles at just how on the nose all of that is. It’s always been assumed that cold people are heartless, just not literally so.

And yet right now, she thinks maybe she’s never been colder.

“We’ll get your heart back,” Emma vows.

“Doesn’t matter if we do. All that matters is Henry.”

“It does matter and …what is going on with you? I don’t…you’re normally not quite so…” she trails off, not sure what she’s trying to say, but knowing it’s past time to say it.

Regina looks up at her again, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Quite so?”

“Passive."

“Ah.” She nods her head like Emma’s words are entirely logical and like they’re not talking about a person walking around without a heart in their chest. “What’s going on is that I’m finally coming to terms with who and what I am. I’m accepting all the harm that I’ve caused - the harm I’ve caused to my son. As for my supposed soulmate? He’s lucky I never came into his life; my love is poison and it would have ended up hurting him just as much as it’s hurt Henry.”

“I don’t believe that. I…I believe in you.”

Regina laughs. “You must be joking. Or drinking from Hook’s flask. We’re enemies, Savior.”

Ignoring Regina’s clear attempt to push her away with the title bestowed on her long before her birth - the one all about defeating the Queen - Emma shrugs and says, “We don’t have to be.”

Regina’s eyebrow arches up imperiously, her  disbelief at the idea of someone wanting to be anything more than enemies with her on display. “Because we both love Henry?”

“Because we’re both his moms and we never needed to be at war. We can be better than this.”

“We’re not the same. You’re a hero and I’m…I’m the one you’re supposed to destroy.”

“Good news, Your Majesty: I have no intention of destroying you.”

“Oh, Emma, you already have.”

And then she’s up again, apparently having decided that the conversation is once again over.

Leaving Emma just as confused as she’d been the night before and a lot more worried. And realizing as she watches Regina retreat to her bedroll, turning her body so that she’s faced away from the rest of the camp, that she's more than a little upset by Regina’s words.

Because destroying anyone - perhaps especially Regina - is the last thing she wants to do.

Come morning, Regina is once again the first one up, stirring something in a large metal pot that Emma knows hadn’t been amongst their supplies. When the group comes over, the only explanation the Queen offers is to Hook as she hands him a bowl of porridge, “Borrowed a few things from your galley; I assume you don’t mind.”

“I don’t,” he assures her. 

Emma takes a bowl of her own and doesn’t even bother to try to ask questions she knows Regina won’t answer. It would appear that she can only get the Queen to open up after night has fallen and it’s just the two of them gathered in front of a fire. How very, very strange.

“So,” Charming starts as he, too, accepts a bowl. “The map. How do we figure it out?”

“Tink said I had to use my magic on it.” She shrugs, reminding everyone of just how seldom she has used her magic since discovering. She looks over to at Regina. “How?”

“I’m hardly the one who should be teaching you,” Regina bites out, stirring the porridge around but never actually eating it “But if I had to make a guess, you need to channel your truth.”

“Excuse me?”

Regina scowls at her, as if to say that her words should be obvious even to an idiot.

“Not an answer,” Emma lightly scolds, her lip quirking in bemusement. For whatever reason, getting even tiny bits of the old snarky, superior Regina brings her a lot of comfort. Weird.

Regina lifts a hand and rubs at the upper bridge of her nose. Softly, she says, “Magic, at its core, is all about emotion. What you feel, what you want to feel, who you want to protect. At its best, it’s about the truth within you. At its worst, it’s about the darkness deep inside. If the map is designed like most of these maps are, you have to channel the truth of who you are into it.”

“And how…how exactly do I do that?”

“I told you, I’m not a teacher.”

“Well, Regina, I think it’s clear we need you to be one,” Snow states. She’s trying to be almost conciliatory, but there’s a clear anxiety present - fear about everything related to this unwanted  quest of theirs. Deep worries about Regina, Emma, Henry and of course, Peter Pan. 

That earns Snow an icy glare, but then Regina is turning her attention back to Emma. “I only know dark magic. If you want me to teach you how to hate and hurt, I can do that.”

“I don’t.”

“Good. Then find a different way. Find the truth inside yourself. You don’t need me for that.”

“Fine, but I don’t believe that’s the only kind of magic you can teach me.”

“It is. Figure it out. I’m going for a walk.”

“Right now?” David exclaims. “The map -“

“Is Emma’s riddle; I need a bath.” And then she’s walking away from the group, walking quickly and sharply, seemingly aware that she’s being watched as she departs. 

“That woman is maddening,” Snow groans. 

“Yeah,” Emma says, thoughtfully, eyes tracking Regina as she disappears into the trees. 

“Swan?” Hook prompts.

“Nothing. It’s…she may be maddening, but she’s also right,” Emma announces. She gets up and crosses over to her pack, extracting the map from it and bringing it back over to the fire-pit (she’s barely let it out of her sight since obtaining it - always keeping it within a direct eye-line, it being their lifeline to Henry). “We need to focus on solving this. Until we do, we’re spinning our wheels trying to guess at where he is on this island. So for now, this has to be all we care about.” She spreads open the map, a stenciled-on looking topography of Neverland appearing upon it. A few short seconds later, cursive words appear on the yellowed parchment, at the bottom below the actual map, light and in a fancy, delicate hand: The only way forward is to know thyself. 

Emma laughs bitterly and repeats Regina’s words, “Find the truth within myself. Of course.”

“Does that mean acknowledging who you are?” Snow prompts, sounding excited.

“As in your daughter or…the Savior?”

“Both?” Charming suggests.

“Right. Okay.” Emma touches the map and says, “My name is Emma Swan and I’m the daughter of Prince Charming and Snow White. My son is Henry and oh, I’m the Savior.”

Nothing happens. 

“Keep going, Swan,” Hook suggests. “Maybe you just haven’t said the right words yet.”

“Maybe,” she agrees and then takes another breath and keeps talking.

The day is largely a waste.

By the time Regina returns from bathing (and Emma notes with a slight bit of embarrassment that she’s well aware of how attractive Regina is freshly scrubbed and with her short hair slicked back and away from her face), there’s been absolutely no progress made on the map and they’re all more than a little frustrated. More so when Regina offers no real suggestions.

“Maybe we should go out looking, anyway,” David suggests, looking right at Hook. 

“Not a bad idea. We may need the map to find him, but I’ve stumbled into him a few times as well. Never know.” He hefts his sword and genially says, “We’ll bring back dinner.”

And then the two men are gone leaving only the three women to stare at each other.

Snow finally says, “Well, there obviously has to be an answer that the map is looking for.”

“So we think,” Emma grumbles. “But we’ve said just about everything there is to say.”

“Have you tried saying who you are?” Regina suggests as she leans over her bag and extracts a small pill bottle. She pops two of them, shakes the bottle as she realizes that it's now empty, tosses it away and then turns back to Snow and Emma.

“At length,” Emma insists. “I’ve told it I’m her daughter, Henry’s mom, the Savior -“

“Have you tried telling it that you’re Emma.”

“I -“

“Aren’t you the one who never stops telling people that you didn’t choose to be the great and mighty Queen-destroying-Savior. Well, who did you choose to be, Miss Swan?

Emma’s eyes light up at once and then Emma is lifting the map and looking directly at it. “I am all of those things and more. I’m a mother, I’m a daughter, a sheriff -“

“Only because you fixed the election,” Regina mutters.

Emma ignores her. “I’m a friend." She looks right at Regina for a long moment before continuing,"I guess I’m a savior, but mostly, I’m just…I’m Emma Swan.”

“And who exactly is that?” Regina prompts.

Emma frowns as she considers the question, and then softly, “Just someone trying to matter.” Almost immediately, ink appears on the parchment, covering the topographical lines and showing off new ones - new areas and location. One in specific. An X set over a camp.

“It worked,” Snow breathes.

“It did,” Emma agrees. Then looks at Regina. “Thank you.”

“While I'm ecstatic that you solved Pan's silly puzzle, Miss Swan, let me be clear here: for me, only Henry matters,” Regina says and then she’s walking away like this moment between the three of them - for once not tense and full of anger and angst - it just a bit too much for her and if she lets it continue unchecked, it could burn her alive. Which is only really odd because Tink has Regina’s heart and shouldn’t everything be…less? Thoughts for later - maybe even tonight if patterns hold and she has the chance to ask Regina directly  about why the loss of her heart doesn’t seem to be making her cold and emotionless.

For now, though, they have their first real lead on getting to Henry.

Chapter Text

It’s almost sundown when Hook and David return with food - some kind of wild beast that looks like a boar. With help from Snow, the three of them skin it and prep it to be cooked, all the while discussing plans to set out in the morning to find the camp shown on the map. “By my recall of the island, I’d say we’re a good two to three days away from there,” Hook tells them as he hands David the knife. “It’s close to the other side of the island, by Skull Rock.”

“Could we go back to your ship and sail around to there,” David queries. “Save time?”

“Unfortunately, no; that area is pretty well patrolled by the Lost Boys. We always stayed clear of it unless we absolutely had no choice. On this one, I don’t think a frontal assault is our best go. Something deep inside of Skull Rock gives Pan his magic - we don’t want to mess with that.”

“I’m not afraid of him or his magic,” Regina sneers.

“All due respect, Majesty,” Hook nods. “But he’s brought down a great many powerful magic users in his time. His means are as cruel as you or I can imagine.”

“And he seems to have a hard-on for you,” Emma reminds her.

“Not the first supervillain who thought they could notch the Evil Queen,” she drawls, and it almost sounds arrogant, but Emma hears the self-loathing beneath the words.

“All the same,” Snow insists. “For all of our sakes, we should be smart about this.”

“Pan wants Henry,” Hook reminds them all. “He won’t hurt the boy. He has other plans.”

“What other plans?” Emma asks, looking over at Regina and seeing the worry in her dark eyes. 

“Most certainly to turn him against his family as he has so many other little boys along the way. He told you he’s not planning to let Henry go, and I wouldn’t assume him blowing smoke about that. Very few have ever left this island alive.”

“I’m going to rip him apart,” Regina growls and then she drops down onto the log, picks up a stick and starts savagely poking at the meat roasting on the spit. It’s petulant and angry and these remain emotions that one wouldn’t think a heart-less Queen should be capable of.

“What about his magic?” Emma asks. “How do we combat it?”

“Well, were the Queen at full-power -“

“My power is just fine, Captain,” Regina snaps, but the shaking of her hands betrays her. The moment she sees the others looking at her hands, she gathers them and shoves them deeper into her lap.

“I think what you’re saying is we need more than just Regina,” Snow nods. “What about Gold?”

“I wouldn’t count on him ever showing back up. He’s here for his own reasons and while that may help us eventually, it should be assumed that his reasons aren’t ours.”

“Agreed,” Charming nods. “But that still means we’re under-matched going against Pan.”

“So we’re back to you teaching me magic” Emma states, looking over at Regina.

“I thought we already discussed - at length - why it’s a terrible idea to have me be your teacher.”

“We did and it is,” Snow acknowledges.

“Glad we’re all on the same page.”

Emma frowns at that. Then tries again, “Look: I’m really, really not eager to learn magic. I kind of wish I didn’t have it at all, but I do. I do and the two of us make a pretty good team when we’re paired up. So maybe, you teach me what I need to know and we get our kid back.”

“Regina, she’s right,” Snow pleads. “I have no real desire for her to touch magic - better than almost anyone, I know what it can do to someone.” She looks right at Regina, ignoring the glare the older woman is throwing at her, noting the clear anxiety bleeding off of her former stepmother. “But I also know you have the capacity to be a teacher within you. You have taught me so much - good and bad, admittedly but still. Now we need you to teach Emma.”

“Find someone else,” Regina says and then she’s standing up and walking away once again.

“Do we have a clue what’s going on with her?” David asks in exasperation. 

“Nothing we have time to fix. At least not at the moment,” Emma sighs and resolves to finish this conversation with Regina tonight when it’s just quiet darkness all around them and the truth has a way of coming out.

Regina is sitting by the pit when Emma seats herself across from her. The sky above is darker than it’s been since they arrived here, a foreboding chill in the air, the sound of the nightlife creaking and crawling around them. If any of that bothers Regina, though, she doesn’t show it. Maybe that’s the heart? Or maybe it’s just how obviously numb she is. Which, Emma suspects, is at the root of the bigger problem that appears to be plaguing Storybrooke’s former mayor. 

Even a former Evil Queen can only endure so much trauma.

“Swan,” Regina mildly greets, not even bothering to look up.

“So, how about the real reason you don’t want to teach me magic?”

That gets a response, Regina’s head lifting. “Why do you care?”

“Well, because I really do believe you and me together gives us our best chance of defeating that little kid-stealing weasel and I feel like if you were more…yourself…you’d be the first person pushing for that. Because you know.”

“Know what? How powerful you are? How easily you could defeat me? Of course, I know. I have since the moment you rolled your tetanus shot on wheels into my town.”

“Ignoring the unnecessary Bug slander, Regina, I have no intention of hurting you. I don’t… I guess I was hoping… I’d really like us to move forward into something…better?”

“What does that mean? Become perfect co-parents? Friends?” She laughs at that, the sound too high pitched to be real mirth.

Emma shrugs. “Maybe.”

Clearly surprised, Regina narrows her eyes in challenge. “Because of Henry?”

“Because I think we get each other in a way no one else does. We haven’t lived a blessed or spoiled life. Neither one of us ever got the benefit of the doubt and we’ve been kicked about a thousand different times over the years. We’ve had to crawl our way back. And we have.”

“Have we? Pretty sure there’s an entire town that would argue that point as far as me.”

“I don’t really care what they think right about now. I just care about saving our kid.”

“That’s still no reason to expose you to the corruption that is magic.”

“I’ve already been exposed. It’s in my blood whether I like it or not.”

Regina lets out a growl. “Don’t you get it? We’re here because of magic. Henry is on this hellish island because I willingly allowed myself to be corrupted by dark magic. I ruined my soul - I tore a hole in it and covered my hands with blood - all for the sake of control. Control which I never actually had, mind you. I felt helpless and angry and I let myself fall into the deepest pits of despair to try to get back control of my life and ended up fulfilling Rumple’s grand plan.”

“And did it help? Did you ever not feel…angry?”

“I’m always angry,” Regina admits, looking down at the ground. “Nothing stops that.”

“Then maybe we need to find a better way.”

Regina looks up at her, head cocked in curiosity. “This isn’t your role in our story.”

“I don’t think a storybook gets to tell us what our roles are. We decide that.”

“Whatever about our lives would make you think that?” Regina laughs, humorlessly.

“As you’ve told me a hundred times, Madam Mayor, I’m stubborn and arrogant.”

“Yes and?”

“I write my own story, and I believe you can as well.”

Regina chuckles. “You are something, I will give you that.”

“I’m choosing to take that as a compliment. Plus? I kind of made you laugh.”

“You’re kind of an idiot,” Regina fires back, but sounds almost…affectionate?

Naturally, Emma decides to try to use that to her advantage. “So…train me?”

Regina shakes her head again, desperate to push Emma away from this idea. “No, trust me, nothing good can come from me being the one…no, no, you don’t want that.”

“You’re right - I don’t want to learn more magic than I know. I’ve seen what it’s done to you and what it’s done to Gold and those two Home Office idiots and I want no part of any of that.”

“I’m glad we’re in agreement.”

“But,” Emma says as she leans in, lowering her voice. “That we agree is exactly why.”

The Queen narrows her eyes. “Explain.”

“If you were eager to teach me, if you wanted to push magic on me like Gold does, I’d be wary. I’d worry what you get out of it and what you want to happen, but…you’re afraid.” Seeing Regina bristles at her words, Emma holds up a hand to try to calm the Queen’s ire. “You don’t want me to go down the same path you did and…that actually matters. To me, anyway. I…I trust you.”

That earns the blonde a loud, disbelieving laugh from the brunette. “You’re insane.”

“You’ve told me that a time or fifty, but that doesn’t change my feelings on this. If we’re going to find Henry, we need to be able to go up against Pan as a team and right now, I can’t help you there.”

“Who said I needed your help?”

Quietly, gently, Emma answers, “Your hands.”

“My -“ she looks down, noticing the way they’re again trembling. Shading slightly red with obvious shame and embarrassment, she says “They’re fine. I’m fine.”

“I know you are, but maybe having me at your back will mean you’re even more…fine.”

“And if I still say no?”

“Then I’ll accept that.”

“Really? You? That doesn't sound like you."

“Not like I could force you to teach me if you’re dead-set on not doing it.”

“No,” Regina concurs, and then she’s standing up.

“Is our conversation over for tonight?” Emma asks, trying to keep her tone light. In truth, she’s more than a little frustrated by the Queen, but every one of her instincts is saying…go slow. They’re telling her that Regina has been through such a extreme trauma - between the torture, the diamond and now Tink having her heart - that she’s struggling to find grounding. They’re telling her that pushing the brunette off the small bit of footing she’s found can only end badly.

So she smiles up at Regina and waits for her reply. 

Regina looks across the camp, taking in the sleeping forms of Charming and Snow and Hook a few feet from them. Turning back, she finally, rather grouchily says, “Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine; I’ll train you,, but when you go all Dark Swan crazy, don’t blame me.” And then she’s walking towards the woods, not bothering to verify that Emma is following. 

Somehow knowing that she is.

Regina finally stops about a quarter mile away from the campsite, close to a stream. It’s dark so it’s fairly difficult to see the water, but Emma can hear it trickling over rocks. “I found this when I went for a walk earlier. The water is fairly cold, but seems fresh enough for drinking though I'd still probably boil it first,” Regina notes.

“So, wait, am I going to turn water into wine?” Emma queries, sounding almost hopeful.

“No,” Regina says tersely. “We’re trying to save Henry, not throw a party.”

“When we do - save Henry, I mean - can we throw a party, then?” 

“You can rip all of your clothes off and dance naked for all I care,” Regina shoots back. Earning a cheeky grin from the blonde, followed by an eye-roll from Regina. “You really are an idiot.”

“And yet, I think I’m growing on you.”

“Did you drag me out here to flirt? Assuming this dreadful banter is your idea of flirting.”

Coolly, Emma laughs. “Oh, Madam Mayor, trust me, if I was flirting with you, you’d know it.”

“If you say so. Now, can we focus on what you’re actually here to do? Learn magic?”

“Sure. What am I learning first?”

“How to levitate a leaf.”

“A what now?”

“Too big a word?” 

“Funny,” Emma retorts. “But seriously, a leaf? I stopped a catastrophic world-destroying death diamond with you and now I have to go all the way back to floating leaves around in the air?”

“Have you floated a leaf before?”

“Well, no.”

“Well, then, it’s not really going back, per say,” Regina corrects, an eyebrow arching. “As for destroying the diamond, while I am - I suppose - thankful for your assistance, it wasn’t exactly skilled magic you did there. It was inherent and elemental - you thought, therefore it was.”

“Which…worked, right? And wait, you suppose?” Emma frowns, wondering just how deep Regina’s apparent death-wish goes. Just how much of a danger to herself is she?

Regina waves the second question away. “Your clumsy bull-in-a-china-shop style worked there, but it’s not the kind of magic we need to defeat Pan. We need focused, deliberate and intentional magic. The kind where we know what we’re trying to do and what it can do. If I bring up fire in my hand -“ she does exactly that, a red ball of flames in her palm. “I had better know what I plan to do with it because if I just throw it around, I could light the forest on fire.”

“Is that a bad thing?” Emma jokes. “Might help us find Henry faster.”

Regina gives her a look, and there it is again, that almost affectionate gaze. But also humoring.

“I know, I know…burning forests down is bad.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Regina notes. “I’m all for burning this sweaty, child infested hell-hole to the ground. I’d just like Henry to be back on Hook’s ship before we do it.”

“And us, right? You want us back on that ship, too, right?”

“Don’t be tedious, Miss Swan; I need you to focus on what matters: Henry. Only Henry.”

“If you say so.”

“I do. Now, can we get down to business? Finally?”

“Yeah, sure. Okay, so, how do I lift the leaf? Do I have to think about my first kiss?”

“If you’re going to be this inane the whole time -“

“Can only be what I am, Your Majesty.”

Regina tilts her head in acknowledgement, then says, “Think about what you want to do. In this case, you’re simply redistributing energy. You don’t need to dig deep.”

“What about all magic having a price? Will I break a toe because I lifted a leaf?”

“No. While all magic does, indeed, carry with it a price tag, something like this? You won’t ever notice. Maybe one day, you wake up with a broken nail or a mild headache, but generally the small things like this really don’t count. The magic that costs requires infinitely more energy and a lot more intentional cause and purpose. Here, we’re just lifting up a leaf. Nothing more.”

“Okay. Think about the leaf,” Emma says. “Lift the leaf.” She puts her hands out, pointing them dramatically at the ground. When nothing happens, she groans loudly.

“You’re overthinking,” Regina tells her, shaking her head. “This isn’t rocket science, Emma; what do you want to do here? It’s no different than making your hand move.”

“I don’t think - oh. Right. Okay.” She closes her eyes, thinks about it and -

-promptly sets the whole pile of leaves on the ground on fire.

With a huff, Regina puts out the flames. “Well, you certainly don’t lack for raw power.”

“But?”

“You also don’t lack for raw -“ she stops short, frowning. 

“You stopped yourself from insulting me,” Emma notes.

“I’m…trying.”

Emma thinks to press her on exactly what she’s trying to do, but they’re having a really good moment here, and the last thing she wants to do is put Regina on edge again. So she smiles and says, instead, “Okay, so I’m assuming that creating a leaf bonfire wasn’t my goal here.”

“It was not,” Regina confirms. “In fact, no flames were necessary at all; just levitation.” She shakes her head, that curious affectionate amusement showing again. “Think...less."

“Right. Think less,” Emma wryly repeats and then there are flames again.

“Okay, maybe a bit more thinking,” Regina says, tersely. “Think about lifting the leaf.”

Emma nods, focuses again, thinks “no fire” and then whoa, there the leaf is, hovering in the air without strings to keep it up. “I did that,” Emma says in wonder. She’s known for awhile about her magic - ever since she’d helped Regina open the portal with Jefferson’s hat, but thus far, most of her magic has been accidental. This is different - she’d made this happen.

Regina smiles softly at her. “So you did.” Then, the look wiping away, she adds, “Do it again.”

“What?”

“Magic is like any other kind of learning; repetition, trial and error. You did good, but you also lit the leaves on fire before you managed to lift one up. We need to ensure your first instinct brings about what you want without preceding catastrophic damage."

“How?”

“Patience, time and repetition. We don’t have a lot of the first two, but we’ll find a way.”

And then she’s turning away, like she’s about to walk back to camp.

Like the conversation is over just like that. 

“Wait,” Emma calls out. “I have more questions.”

“I’m sure you do, but I’m tired, Miss Swan, and morning will come soon enough.”

“I know. Just -“ Emma catches up to her. “Two questions and then I’ll say goodnight.”

“Fine, but be quick about it.”

“Okay: first, how are you able to emote without your heart in your chest?”

Regina frowns at that. Then shrugs. “I haven’t a clue. Next?”

“But your mom -“

“Is that your second question, because if so, you’re wasting it. My mother is off-limits.”

"Why? I mean why is she...you know what? Nevermind that...why are you only willing to talk to me at night?”

“I’ve talked to you plenty during the day,” Regina protests.

“No, you’ve talked in general, but only mission type stuff. At night, when it’s just us by the fire, it’s different. You’re willing to…look, I know you’re going through a lot -“

“I’m fine,” Regina says, automatically.

“Of course you are - you've said it about a billion time, but I think we both know you're actually not. And I get it.” She reaches out for Regina’s trembling hands, and it’s the strangest motion because not only do they never touch, but no one touches her at all. 

No one except maybe Henry and even then, only now and again.

No one has really touched her with anything approaching kindness since Graham and he hadn’t exactly been doing it of his own free will (she feels her stomach flip at that and the small bit of food she’d consumed scratches its way dangerously up her esophagus). But this is more than just a casual touch; Emma’s holding her hands and squeezing them to show her support. The touch is warm and gentle and as she's watching, she sees the tremors cease and what does any of this mean. What does -

“You’re the one overthinking now, Your Majesty,” Emma teases. 

“I…” Regina eyes stayed fixed on their joined hands, warm and safe. It frankly scares the shit out of her just how not frightening Emma’s touch is.

“I need sleep.” And then she’s breaking away and fleeing back through the trees. Leaving Emma to stare after her departing co-mother in confusion and unease. There’s something going on with the other woman - something dangerous and messy and painful - and a voice in the back of Emma’s head is telling her that if she doesn’t get to the bottom of it, it could cause severe problems for all of them. But oddly, terrifyingly, Regina most of all stands to lose.

And for reasons Emma isn’t ready to examine just yet, she doesn’t want that for Regina. 

So whatever it takes, however she has to get there, she’s going to get Regina through whatever is upsetting her and causing her to try to pull away even more than usual. The only chance this family of theirs has is if they’re in this together. They need to be one team - one cohesive and dangerous strike-force dead-set on bringing Henry home. On her own, Regina is a force of nature that most would be stupid to stand in the way of (Emma thinks that she most certainly had been a fool to try to do so, and yet inexplicably, it had somehow worked out), but paired with others, she can become something even more than that. Something even Pan is fearful of.

A family unit - a team hellbent on one thing and one thing only - that can only succeed. 

Emma has no intention of dying on this island and every intention of rescuing Henry, but for that to occur, she knows that she needs Regina. She needs the power and connection that they’d drawn upon down in that mine. She needs the flash of hope she’d seen in Regina’s eyes when Emma had offered to pair with her and it’d started to work. The most bright and beautiful thing that Emma thinks she’s ever seen (outside of the first time she’d heard Henry’s cries after he’d been born and she’d known that he’d been healthy). Hope on someone who has been so terribly starved of it (by herself as much as others) is stunning beyond all description of it.

She wants to see it again and again and -

Emma frowns, wondering where these thoughts are coming from. Wondering if she has another problem entirely. “No,” she laughs to herself and follows after Regina.

Because that would be absurd. She’s the Evil Queen for fuck’s sake. Having any thoughts of feelings beyond normal compassion and empathy would be unthinkable.

Preposterous.

Right up there with being the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming. 

Crazy life, she thinks and pushes the thoughts away for another day. One where she’s not standing in the middle of a Neverland jungle with her shirt stained with sweat, twigs in her hair and a family just barely holding it together as all their tensions cause them to constantly press and strain to stay cohesive and unified for Henry. Her job, she understands, isn’t to be the Savior here - Regina’s magic is vastly superior to hers (at least at this point) and any shows of power and force will probably come from her - but rather the one who connects their family. She needs to be the one who relentless drives them forward and does what Henry usually does: reminds them that they are family even - or perhaps especially at - the worst of times.

Stepping back into the camp, she sees the fire is out now, just low embers. Her parents and Hook remain snoozing a few feet away. A glance to the far opposite side where Regina has settled herself (as far away from the group as she can manage and Emma doesn’t think it’s about being antisocial so much as trying to hide the aftershocks of her recents traumas) and she sees the Queen readying herself for bed. Stripped down to just pants and a shirt, her jacket settled beneath her to use as a pillow, she’s adjusting herself upon the sleeping bag.

When Emma steps past the tree-line, Regina turns her head and their eyes connect. A quiet moment of understanding shared. Then, her moon-lit eyes suddenly wide and clouding with what can only be fear and panic, the mayor urgently shakes her head as if to say, “No.”

And then she’s rolling over on her sleeping bag, turning her back on Emma. 

Leaving the sheriff painfully aware that they’re about to take two giant steps back again. 

As they do.

By the time a still very tired Emma gingerly rouses herself in the morning, the camp itself is almost all the way broken down already. Bags have been packed, cooking supplies have been put away, and and Hook has gone around and cleaned up the debris. “Morning,” the blonde mutters as she crosses over to the fire-pit. Her parents are both sitting there, drinking from aluminum cups full of what smells like coffee. “Sorry, I guess I was…exhausted.”

“We get it,” Mary-Margaret assures her and hands her a cup. “No game this morning so we’re going with the granola bars we brought with us. Regina is down at the stream."

Emma chuckles. “We’ve been here what? Four days? Have to respect that we’re in the middle of a smelly, sweat-soaked jungle and our Queen refuses to be dirty.” She shakes her head in amusement, entirely missing the way her mom’s eyebrow arches in poorly restrained curiosity. 

“To be fair,” David says, lightly, having apparently missed that which had caught his wife’s always keen attention. “A bath sounds really nice right about now. Based on the map, we should be camping next to a waterfall this evening. I like the sound of that, I’ll be honest.”

“I’m down with that,” Emma agrees. “I guess I’ll get changed for today’s fun hike.”

“Emma,” Snow softly soothes. “We’re going to find him. It’s going to be okay.”

“I know,” Emma agrees and quickly moves away. She’s not someone who has spent much time living inside of false hopes and right now, as much as she desperately wants to believe the pretty words her parents are saying - of hope and love and the certainty of Good versus Evil - she can’t find it within her to actually believe that everything will be okay. Not yet, anyway.

Not until Henry is back with his family and they’re all on their way back home.

All of them, she thinks as she sees Regina emerging from the trees, hair wet and skin glowing from having been recently washed. That the cleaning can’t wipe away the deep lines that exhaustion has dug beneath her eyes is something Emma doesn’t plan to mention. Instead, she smiles as Regina approaches, their eyes meeting. A kind of hope that her worry from last night - the way Regina had turned away from her - will turn out to be unnecessary fretting.

Unfortunately, neither her life nor Regina’s works that way and the blank stare she gets back from the still-recovering Queen is enough to tell her that Regina isn’t going to make any of this - especially the part involving someone reaching out to her and trying to help her - easy. But then that’s because she very likely doesn’t believe in Emma’s sincerity. A lifetime of having to scratch and claw for every break she’s ever gotten (and that’s another thing they have in common, Emma knows) has taught her that few ever reach out to help the drowning. Not really.

Sure, they might toss a buoy or something else, but rarely is it ever a hand. Not one that doesn’t waver and instead stays outstretched and promising of better things ahead. Things that neither of them are quite the type to believe in. And yet, blame it on her family and how close she’s gotten to them or maybe the fish she’d consumed on her way here had flipped on her and she’s suffering from food poisoning. Whatever it is, Emma finds that she has this almost desperate need to convince Regina that she’s wrong - that someone could care.

Maybe even already does.

But to get there, Regina has got to be willing to take the hand offering her help up, and based on the blank stare Emma is getting, despite their night conversations and the curious moments that they keep sharing, the Queen seems dead-set on ensuring that nothing ever changes.

Intent on ensuring that her protective armor stays securely fastened around her, keeping out both those who would do her harm as well as those who could highlight her vulnerabilities. A terrible, complicated, messy, distrusting life and Emma hates that for both of them.

“Swan?”

She turns and sees Hook standing a few feet away from her, the map in his hand.

“I’m ready,” she assures him, taking the map from him.

“We all are,” Snow announces, watching as Regina hefts her backpack up. 

“Then let’s get to it,” Regina declares and then she’s walking ahead, leading even though the map is in Emma’s hands. Such things have rarely stopped her from acting before.

“That way, then?” Hook chuckles.

“That way,” Emma grins and then promptly walks ahead, coming up beside Regina. “Hey.”

“I’m not in the mood, Emma,” Regina sighs, not even looking at her.

“No, I know…I know. It’s…it’s not nighttime.”

Regina scowls, but says nothing in response.

“I figured maybe we could talk about my next magic lesson? I mean moving leaves is cool -“

“But Pan isn’t likely to be taken out by a leaf pile,” Regina concurs. “I’ll think about it.”

“That’s it? You’re going to…okay.” She lifts her hands in defeat. “But you do need my help.”

A loaded, loaded statement.

“We’ll see,” is all Regina concedes and then she’s walking ahead again. 

This time, Emma doesn’t follow her. She’s tired and anxious and she just doesn’t have the emotional energy for the Queen’s strange mercurial hot-and-cold behavior. 

At least not right now.

Daylight seems to be just too much harsh light for Regina and so Emma decides she will play along and allow the mayor to protect her self-loathing truths beneath the veil of darkness. If that’s what Regina needs to feel safe enough to talk, well then that’s what she will do for her.

Sighing, she falls back, allowing Hook to join her. He flirts with her relentlessly, and she could frankly do without it, but he’s not bad company when he’s not trying to be suave and managing mostly pervy. When he’s somewhat…whatever normal is for Hook, as someone to pass a few hours of conversation time while they hook through the jungle, well there are worse options.

So she smiles at him and says, “Tell me a story.”

“Of us?” Hook asks, seeming hopeful.

She snorts. “No. Of Neverland. We’re going in blind outside of movies and novels.”

“She’s right,” David says, coming up beside her. “We’re at a bit of a loss.”

“Aye,” Hook agrees. “For once, the Crocodile wasn’t lying; Pan is a demon.” And then softly, without his usual machismo, Hook begins to tell his story of how a heartbroken pirate in need of a place to hide had crossed paths with a demon who looks like a child. And how somehow, inexplicably, all the stories had gotten them wrong. “But then”, Hook chuckles, no real humor in the sound, “Hard to figure out who the villain is when both parties are villains.”

Emma glances ahead at the back of the Queen, the woman’s posture limper and more obviously worn out than usual due to the shudders that keep running through her. Surely, Regina must know that they know that she’s struggling physically and mentally right now, but her pride will help her lie to herself once again. It will help her keep her head up and ignore the worried eyes behind her. That’s what she’s doing now, Emma knows - just pushing ahead. Fighting because it’s all she knows to do.

One more way they relate. 

One of a thousand different and often traumatic ways, Emma is realizing more and more as she pushes onwards, listening to Hook’s tobacco-and-rum voice garble out some story or another. The question, then, she supposes, is where does this new path of theirs take them?

She supposes that one way or another, they’re about to find out.

Regina barely speaks until they arrive at the camp late in the afternoon. A few confirmations, a couple of comments tossed into Hook’s verbal history of Neverland and a time or two where she has asked to look at the map again to confirm her memory. Nothing really beyond that.

Until they get to camp and conversation starts about hunting for food and Regina turns and looks at Emma and very pointedly says, “Not you. We have training we need to do.”

Emma blinks. “Now?”

“As opposed to when else?” Regina demands, looking directly at her, her eyes narrowed in challenge. Almost as if she’s daring the confused sheriff to expose to the others the late night conversations that they’ve been having since arriving. Emma wonders if this is some sort of test - an attempt to see if Snow White’s daughter tends to have as loose of lips as her mother.

Emma wisely chooses not to take the bait; it seems best to let this whatever this strange test is play out. Hopefully, by not biting back, it’ll be made clear to Regina that her co-mother is not the enemy and that the warranted, but pointless distrust between them can only be resolved if both of them are willing to make the effort. So Emma goes first, smiling slightly and ignoring the worried and pensive looks from her parents. They don’t understand. Nor do they need to.

“If you’re sure,” Emma shrugs. 

“I’m sure.” To Snow, she says archly, “An audience is not required.”

“Maybe not,” Snow agrees. “But I think I’d like to stay and…watch.”

“Afraid I’ll attack your precious little girl?” Regina shoots back.

“Mom, Regina,” Emma sighs. “Guys, please.”

“No, Regina, I’m not worried about that at all,” Snow corrects, her voice just a bit too sweet to be truly sincere, old anger and frustration with this baffling woman coming forward. “Because whether you like it or not, you need my daughter to save Henry and get him home and nothing - not even your hatred of me and my family - matters more than he does. All the same, you’ll excuse me if I don’t trust you or your magic around her.” Her words are sharp, caustic, meant to cut deep and they do exactly that. 

Regina scowls at that, but doesn’t fire back, merely turning her back on both of them.

“No,” Emma says almost urgently. “Wait, guys, this doesn’t help. We have to find our way to -“

“Trusting each other?” Regina laughs as she turns back, the sound humorless. “Sorry, Savior, but that’s not happening. I don’t trust her and she doesn’t trust me and we both have very good reasons for that.” She looks right at Snow. “You’re right; Henry is all that matters.”

And then she’s walking away and headed towards the woods.

“Our lessons?” Emma calls after her.

“When I get back,” is the only cool reply she gets and then the Queen is gone.

“Mom,” Emma sighs, turning to look at her apologetic former roommate. “We can’t do this.”

“I know,” Snow agrees. “That was...that was my fault. I shouldn't have. I didn't mean...she just...she brings out the worst in me.”

“I know and I think you bring out the worst in her sometimes."

"I do," Snow concedes.

"But we need her,” Emma reminds her and then more quietly adds, “I need her.”

“To save Henry?” Snow presses, and sounds just a little worried about her own question. She’s a very smart woman, one who seems to see and understand far more than others often realize and she’s certainly noticed the strange, begrudging, but growing relationship between the women. What she thinks it is - well, Emma hasn’t a clue. She does’t even know what it is. What she does know, though, is that Emma and Regina are far different than they were a week ago. Their relationship and connection to each other has been altered and deep down (perhaps quite deep considering the way these two repressed women tend to operate) they both know it.

Apparently, so does Snow White. 

Regina returns an hour later, acting like she hadn’t just stormed off into the woods after a spat with Snow. Instead, she forces a smile and says, “Ready, Swan?”

Emma stands up, wiping her hands off on her jeans. “Yep. You teaching me fire today?”

“Of a sort,” Regina acknowledges. Then, “Snow, you may want to sit down for this.”

“Why?” Snow queries, eyes narrowed and Emma wants to sigh again; getting these two to stop assuming the worst of each other constantly is going to be a Herculean task. But it’s got to start somewhere, Emma supposes and so she fixes her mother with a pleading look.

“Well,” Regina answers, matter-of-factly, “Your daughter is about to try to create fire out of thin air, and while Miss Swan is capable of many things both legal and not -“

“Hey!” Emma protests, but she’s smiling slightly because Regina throwing barbs - and as these things go, that one hadn’t even had stingers attached to it - is a weird kind of normal for them.

“Control has never been her forte,” Regina finishes. Then looks at Emma, “True?”

“True,” Emma shrugs. “You should probably sit, Mom.”

Reluctantly, Snow sits on one of the make-shift benches (they’ve been fortunate to find felled logs throughout Neverland, a sign of how often trees around here seem to wither and die). As soon as she’s seated, Regina turns to face Emma. “I need you to focus on my hands.”

“Okay,” Emma agrees, her eyes flickering to the Queen’s still-shaky hands, fire settled in both palms. She thinks - idly, she insists - that her focus should be on the fire and not just how insanely attractive Regina is, but it’s hard not to notice the smokey beauty and effortless grace that Regina embodies. Even when she’s - always - struggling with the darkness within her mind. Even when she’s fighting back against whatever new demons her trauma had created. 

“Fire is an elemental force; it’s within you because your magic is organic, natural. That doesn’t mean the ability to make it will come easy. It’s -“ she looks over at Snow and frowns. “A darker magic than I would prefer to ever teach you, but I think it’s clear we’ll need all the offense we can get if we’re going to take Pan out. What matters most here is your intent. Magic can be used to heal or harm but not on its own. You choose your path and what you do with your gifts. A very long time ago, the path I chose was full of blood and misery and no matter what I do, I will never make up for that. I can’t make up for it. But you’re not me, Emma. Choose better.”

For a long, long moment, Emma says nothing, clearly surprised by how open and honest Regina is being during the light of day. And yet, weirdly, it still feels like some kind of evasion - like the Queen is putting enough of herself out there and saying all of the terrible things about herself that others (like Snow) might say first. Like maybe she’s hoping Emma won’t push if she admits how broken and damaged she is before everyone else can point it out to her.

 It’s clear that Regina is - and has been for a while now - hiding from both herself and others. Whatever she’s running from, whatever she’s unwilling to face, it’s never been more clear to Emma that for them to win the day, bring their son home and perhaps save this family, the truth will have to come out, be confronted and be dealt with once and for all. Whatever that truth is.

And when it comes to Regina, the one thing Emma knows for sure is that the truth likely hurts. 

“So…do I just…think fire?” Emma finally asks, stumbling for words. Because her mother is looking at her with curious, keen eyes that see way too much and while there’s a lot of dark history between her mother and Regina, that’s theirs to try to move forward from (finally).

The issues between Henry’s two turbulent, messy mothers? Well that’s their problem.

Just perhaps not right here and now. 

Regina chuckles. “For anyone else? Absolutely not - the magic and skill is too precise and particular. But you? Probably not, but it’s possible.” She shrugs. “Go ahead and try.”

“Oh…okay.” Emma lifts her own hands, thinks about fire and…nothing. Not even a spark.

“Didn’t think so,” Regina nods. “You’re powerful, but even raw ability needs to be honed.”

“So hone me.”

Regina flushes slightly; a curiously inexplicable thing. 

So naturally, Emma tries to backtrack.“I mean -“

“You’re an idiot,” Regina says again, waving her off. “But even an idiot like you can be taught.”

“Thank you?” Emma looks over at her mother, who shrugs, looking vaguely amused.

“Yes, well, let’s start simple,” Regina points over at the fire-pit that Charming had set up before he and Hook had left to find dinner. It hasn’t been lit yet, but needs to be ahead of their return. 

“Light the fire?”

“Light the fire,” Regina confirms, arms crossing in front of her chest.

“Like I lifted the leaf?”

“What leaf?” Snow asks.

“There’s no leaf,” Regina lies, and it’s a particularly terrible and pointless lie at that. And yet it gives Emma another clue as to why Regina is doing this training session right now instead of in the semi-private quiet of the evening: she’s in denial over the connection that they’ve been forging - the strange closeness that’s been growing between them for quite awhile now. She seems to think if they just don’t have those moments where they connect as people, she won’t ever have to deal with what those moments mean for her, for them, and for her journey.

“Right, no leaf,” Snow says, her amusement drifting away as she looks between the two women, her eyes narrowing as she seems to understand something. 

“Emma, the fire. Focus,” Regina insists, refusing to look over at Snow. 

So Emma does focus. She really does. Nothing happens. 

“Try again,” Regina demands, hands on her hips like a demanding schoolteacher.

Which is kind of hot…no, no it’s not. 

It’s not.

(it totally is)

“I am trying,” Emma stammers, flushing, unwilling to admit to the why and thankful that her companions are likely to assume it’s just the exertion of everything.

“Clearly not hard enough. Did I frighten you with my cautionary tale?”

“No. I just -“

“Don’t have the ability to focus. Ever. I should have known that this was useless.” And then she’s storming away, dramatic even for her as she vanishes into the dark jungle.

“Well that was something,” Emma mutters.

“It certainly was,” Snow concurs. “Do you know what exactly that was about?”

“I mean it’s Regina - whoever knows what’s going inside that brilliant brain of hers.”

“Brilliant brain of hers,” Snow repeats, slowly, mostly to herself. “Well, I suppose if anyone would know, it’d be you, wouldn’t it?” It’s more of an out-loud thought than a question, really. An open-air bit of curiosity that’s been lurking in the back of Snow’s mind for awhile now. An understanding, perhaps, of the nature of these two women and why they might be drawn to one another in a a way that would make sense to very few people. Especially Snow White.

And yet, Snow wonders if maybe the thoughts she’s having don’t make a lot of sense.

Emma laughs. “Why would you think that? She hates me as much as…well, she hates me.”

“She clearly doesn’t, Emma.”

“Because she’s willing to show teach me magic to defeat the prick that kidnapped our kid?”

“More because that wasn’t your first lesson, was it?”

Emma scowls. “Maybe not, but how many lessons doesn’t change the why of things.”

Snow hums. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma demands, feeling a bit exposed. Her mother has no real clue about the conversations that she and Regina have been having, but the awareness in her green eyes - keen and knowing - suggests she understands far more than she’s saying.

“Oh, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Snow shrugs.

“It’s clearly something. Whatever you think -“ Emma laughs again, this time awkwardly. 

“I’m not sure what I think,” Snow concedes. “But I do know two things: Regina has always been capable of extraordinary amounts of love - she puts every part of herself out and is willing to lose herself for the hope that one day, someone will love her as much as she loves them. Henry…well, he takes that to extremes - he’s special to her. Whatever she felt for Daniel - and she loved him dearly - or her mother, her father, anyone… none of it compares to Henry.”

“Okay. What’s the second thing?”

“Regina has always been a survivor. For better or for worse, that’s been one of her hallmarks.”

“That’s a good thing,” Emma insists. “Henry needs his whole family. That includes her.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Snow says, grimly. “I’m not sure what was…is now. She went through a terrible ordeal at Greg’s hands and then was willing to sacrifice herself all for Henry’s sake.”

“Wasn’t just for Henry’s sake,” Emma says, thoughtfully. 

“No, I don’t imagine it was, but I also don’t imagine she accepts that yet - loving Henry makes sense. It might make her vulnerable but he’s her son. Caring about her enemies -“ she looks pointedly right at Emma. “That’s another problem, entirely. It exposes her, makes her weak.”

“Caring about people doesn’t make you weak,” Emma says defensively.

“Oh, honey; you’re starting to sound like a Charming,” Snow lightly teases. “In any case, we made it through that the whole diamond fiasco because of what you and her did together. Together, you’re…special -“ Snow chuckles at a joke only she seems to know. “But nothing I’ve seen from her since we got here suggests she plans on making it back to Storybrooke. Not alive, anyway."

“No,” Emma agrees, glancing towards the trees. “He needs her.”

“And you?”

“What?” Emma queries, turning back to face her mother, confusion on her face.

“Nothing,” Snow says dismissively. “Your father and Hook are back.”

Emma takes a step towards the trees. “Maybe I should -“

“Let her have a minute. She may be in a bad place, but she’s not going anywhere until she knows for a fact that Henry is safe. Which means that we still have time to figure out…everything else - including whatever it is going on between the two of you - later.”

“Between us? What -“

“Emma,” Snow says, softly, a kind of gentle warning not to lie to her mother. Or herself. And then she’s stepping away, heading towards the men and the strange hen like thing that Hook has swung over his shoulder.

Emma watches for a few minutes, sees her parents greet each other with a quick kiss. One more glance towards the trees, her mind a swirl of a dozen different messy and complicated and then she’s coming over to the rest of her party and forcing a smile that doesn’t at all meet her eyes. “How can I help?”

Chapter Text

Upon her return, it's clear to the entire group - but most of all Emma - that the Queen is no less moody now than when she’d departed. In fact, if anything, she seems even more agitated. With an impatient wave of her hand, she declines what’s left of the roasted bird and asks to see the map, instead. A quick look at it as if to memorize the path that they’ll take tomorrow and the she hands it back to Emma and turns as if intending to make her way over to her sleeping bag.

It’s David asking an obvious question that makes her stop and turn towards them, “Should we be worried?”

Hands rested heavily on her hips, Regina fires back while still wearing an unreadable expression. “About what?”

“Where do I start?”

“Try using words. Little ones if you must.”

David cocks his head, unimpressed with her attempts to push everyone away with her usual sardonic wit and sarcastic coolness. He may not know her like Snow and Emma do (and Emma suspects that she and her mother understand Regina in entirely different ways, especially these days), but he knows her well enough to see that she’s using her attitude as a shield to hide her intense vulnerability. As the Evil Queen, such behavior had terrified him, but he finds it hard to be scared of someone so incredibly human.

And right now, Regina Mills is as human as she's ever been.

“I think what our good prince is curious about,” Hook suggests with what's likely meant to be a dashing smile, but also a cloyingly sympathetic one. “Is whether you’re going to be able to to stand up to Pan when the moment arises? You’re not exactly at full strength.”

“What would you know of that?” Regina sneers.

“I know Pan,” Hook says, simply. “And I know if we’re to have any real chance of rescuing your boy, Your Majesty, you’re going to need to pull yourself together and dig deep.”

Regina gives him a look that can only be considered murderous. “I’m not you,” she tells him as she aggressively approaches, coming right up to his chest and glaring coldly ay him at the same time as she's poking at his chest. “I’m not a cowardly, drunken, womanizer who thinks he’s deep down a good man. I know that I’m a terrible person; I accept who I am and I accept the fate I’m due - no matter how bloody and awful it might be. I know I deserve it. What about you, Captain?”

She doesn't seem to notice the looks of horror behind her - the shock on Snow's face and the worry on Emma's. She'd ignore the looks even if she'd seen them, anyway.

“Aye,” Hook agrees with a nod. “Neither of us are good people, Regina, but that doesn’t change the truth of what I said. I know Pan - I’ve faced him. The reason he hasn’t attacked us is because he’s letting you fall apart. He’s watching and waiting and when you crumble, he’ll be there.”

“Then he’s going to be deeply disappointed; nothing will stop me from getting to Henry.”

“You can get to Henry and still not be all right,” David reminds her. “He needs you.”

“I won’t let my son down,” Regina fires back, seeming furiously insulted. Which suggests that both Hook and David had scored direct hits on her self-confidence.

“Will you be willing to do whatever it takes to get him back?” Hook presses. 

“There’s nothing - nothing - I won’t do or give for my son. Do you understand that? Do you?”

“Regina,” Emma tries. “We’re not - he’s not - suggesting -“

“Of course, he is, but what Prince Charming thinks of me is of no matter to me; he's a fool just as the rest of you are. Now, if we're done with this, we should all try to turn in. We have to wake with the sun in the morning. My son needs me, and I will not let him down again. I’m leaving at daybreak with or without you abhorrently obnoxious idiots.”

And then she’s stalking away once again.

“This is bad,” Snow murmurs. 

“Yeah,” is all Emma says, her eyes never straying from Regina’s back.

Come midnight, Emma groans and sits up on her sleeping bag and looks around, scanning to see if Regina is still slumbering restlessly or if she’s by the fire. Perhaps waiting for her nightly conversation partner to join her. Perhaps willing to allow honesty by the flickering light. 

The fire is just sparks, though and her bedroll is empty.

Cracking her back as she stands, Emma casts a wary look up at the very dark sky (darker than on the first few nights they’ve been there - an ominous sign, indeed) then heads into the woods, hoping Regina hasn’t gone far considering the lack of useful lighting options available. About a half mile or so from camp, Emma finally finds her, and it’s not light that gets her attention. Rather not light from a flashlight or torch because there is light being thrown around.

Fire, technically. 

Stunned into momentary silence, Emma watches as a near-to-tears Regina throws fireball after fireball at a tree, causing it to burst into flames only for the flames to be immediately put out by Regina all so that she can inexplicably start the cycle of rage and regret all over again. 

“Hey,” Emma finally says, her voice soft. “Hey, stop, okay?”

If the Queen hears her, she doesn’t acknowledge it, instead continuing to throw fireballs at the tree, her eyes wide and almost manic as she growls out her rage, frustration and helplessness. There are tears in her eyes and trails down her cheeks suggesting that she's likely been in this hyper emotional state for a good while now.

“Regina, stop,” Emma says once more, this time more urgently. An insane thought crosses her mind and she knows better - she absolutely does - but before she can really consider what the drawback of her choices might be, she’s striding forward and for the second time in two days, she's putting her hands atop of Regina’s shaky ones and waiting for something to happen. Something like getting lit on fire.

Thankfully, the Queen is so stunned by Emma’s action that it seems to bring her back to the present and to the awareness she’d been previously lacking. “Emma?” she queries. 

“Yeah,” the sheriff nods. “You better now that you’ve gotten that out of your system?”

“Better?” She looks around her and then at the tree, eyes widening. “I…”

“It’s fine. You…it’s fine. Can I…can I take my hands away? They’re getting a bit toasty.”

“A bit toasty,” Regina repeats and then she’s looking down at her hands, her confusion apparent. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you keep saving me from myself? Why do you care? Why won’t you just let me die?”

“Henry needs his mother.”

“No! No...no, Henry needs a mother who isn’t an evil monster. He needs - wants you.”

Emma shakes her head, her hands still across Regina’s now extinguished ones. “When we find our kid and get him the fuck away from Pan, he’ll show you how wrong you are.”

Regina lifts her eyes to Emma’s and for a long few seconds that seem to stretch forever, they’re just staring at each other, as if trying to read one another. Trying to understand what is driving their counterpart forward and what is pushing them down. For Regina, it could be a hundred different things including her physical and mental exhaustion and trauma as well as her rather disturbing lack of a heart. For Emma, it’s what it always is: her imposter syndrome screaming at her that she doesn’t belong here and that she’s not the hero everything thinks that she is.

How could she be when she hadn’t broken the curse by sword, but rather by kiss? Regardless, they’re both here now and their son needs them and -

Regina suddenly surges forward and Emma knows what’s about to happen before it does - and has a moment of conflict between the bizarrely giddy anticipation and the anxious trepidation - and then Regina’s shockingly soft lips are on hers. The kiss lasts five, maybe ten seconds and then Emma is pulling away - not roughly, but all the same - and putting distance between them. Putting a measure of safety and space between them just in case Regina thinks to try again (which she thinks maybe she kind of wants and that's an unexpected desire she doesn't quite know what to do with just yet) or does something even more dramatic and perhaps even violent.

Not that she need worry; a look of horrified humiliation streaks across the Queen’s beautiful, if exhausted face and then even as Emma frantically calls after her, Regina mutters out a rough apology and then rushes towards the safety of their camp. Urgently fleeing a conversation they both know damn well they could never have during the day, much less in front of others. 

Wiping her lips lightly, feeling light moisture on them, Emma curses. 

Because everything just got a whole lot more complicated.

Which, Emma thinks as she sighs and looks up into the dark night sky, is the last thing any of them needs right now. 

Emma returns to camp about fifteen minutes, having given Regina enough time to get back to her sleeping bag so as to avoid a confrontation neither of them is ready for. She knows the Queen is feeling ashamed and mortified, and she doesn’t want to make things worse. Even if she has a hundred different very complicated and very messy questions as to why it had happened. Her fingers again ghosting up to touch her lips, feeling the phantom touch of Regina’s in away that makes her blush a little, she finds herself at a loss for an explanation. Was the kiss just to push her away? Was it because there is a connection between them?

Or maybe it was the magnetic attraction that has always existed between them finally paying off.

Whatever had spurred Regina to kiss her, there’s little doubt that Regina would like little more than to pretend that it had never happened. For the moment - but just for the moment and only because getting to Henry has to matter more than any other kind of drama - she will allow it.

But eventually, she thinks as she gazes over at Regina and sees that the Queen is on her side, intentionally facing away from the rest of the camp (from her), they’ll need to talk this all out. Not tonight, though. Tonight, they both need sleep.

Once Henry is back in their arms - safe and sound - there will be time for everything else.

Whatever everything else is.

Regina’s gone in the morning. 

Apparently, she’d decided that the best way to avoid an uncomfortable conversation is to run as far away from it as possible. Emma can relate a bit too well, but she’s hardly amused. Actually, she’s kind of ragingly pissed, if she’s entirely honest.

The map - left open on top of Emma’s bag - is still there. A clear sign that the Queen had reviewed it before she’d decided to take off. David suggests maybe she’s taking care of biology somewhere - either in the woods or down by the stream - but Emma knows better.

She knows that Regina is running.

The question is, then, is she running towards or away from something? Emma, being who she is, knows a bit about escalating ones’ choices and has a pretty good idea that right now, with Regina as raw as she is, the answer is both. “She’s going after Pan,” Emma announces.

“By herself?” Snow asks in disbelief, even though her eyes suggest she rather believes it. She doesn’t entirely know the Regina that had been forged by twenty-eight years of a curse and motherhood, but she has more than a little bit of experience with how violently self-destructive Regina can be. Right now, perhaps more than she has been in a very long time, Regina is reeling.

And Snow doesn’t even know the half of it.

“She doesn’t care what happens to her,” Emma reminds them. “He’s all that matters to her.”

“She’s going to get herself and Henry killed,” David states.

“Regina won’t let anything happen to him,” Emma declares. It all seems so obvious to her.

“Not willingly,” Snow agrees. “But Regina out of control has historically turned out poorly for everyone. Including her. She may think she can take Pan out on her own, but -“

“Doesn’t matter - she will not let anything happen to Henry,” Emma insists. "I believe...I know that." She looks at her mother. "And so do you."

"Yes," Snow agrees, softly, thoughtfully. 

“Swan, she’s walking right into his trap,” Hook states, grimly. “He wants her to come to him.”

“And when she does, then what?” Emma asks, dread in her stomach. She thinks back to the previous night and the evenings before that. Thinks about their conversations and how the Queen had been willing to open up in bits and pieces and show hints of her vulnerability. Now, that same vulnerable, overly exposed, exhausted and pained woman is out there alone. Any other time, Emma would be rather insistent that Regina can handle things (at least until they find her) - she’s hardly a pushover and even at partial strength, she still has access to incredible magic - but there’d been something wild and broken in her eyes the previous night. 

Something that makes Emma think that maybe the Queen believes the only way she can ever be right with Henry is a completed sacrifice of herself. Her and Regina’s merged magic had stopped her from such down in the mines, but it would seem that Regina is desperate to prove herself. A shame, then, that losing her would most certainly shatter Henry and maybe others, too. Maybe - even if Regina doesn’t believe it and has worked quite hard, in fact, to ensure that it’s not possible - there are others in this incomprehensibly weird family of theirs who care about her. Such as Snow White, who will never stop loving her former stepmother no matter how much blood, pain and hurt exists between them; there will always be a love there, as well.

As for herself, well…Emma’s not quite ready to think about any of that - the kiss - just yet.

First things first: find the Queen. Convince her that they’re better as a team and that like it or not, she’s part of this family and their best chance of saving Henry is to do it together. It worked before - thrice - when it came to Henry, and she has to believe it will work again.

 It has to.

Snow suggests doubling back to Tink and asking her if she can help, but that idea is scuttled fairly quickly when they realize that they’d have to backtrack almost two days to get to her. It makes more sense to keeping moving forward in the direction Regina is likely heading in - that is to where the map claims that Pan’s camp is. So bags gathered, the group sets out rather somberly, uneasily. No one will admit it aloud but being down both of the well-trained magic users that they’d arrived on Neverland with is making none of them feel particular comfortable.

Still, they keep moving because even without magic (and Hook reminds everyone that Emma does, in fact, have magic even if it’s not terribly refined), a confrontation is coming and it’s quite likely to be a violent one. Is there any other way a fight for Henry’s life and freedom can go?

With this family?

No, probably not.

Morning turns to afternoon and then early evening, and while the hike has been typically long and arduous, there’s been little to no conversation, each member of the party in their own messy thoughts.

For Emma, that means worrying incessantly about the entire Mills family.

The son she loves more than life itself and his mother who…

Who what? Is her teacher now? Is she still an enemy? The kiss from last night suggests otherwise. Unless it was a kind of manipulation meant to push Emma away and while Regina is quite adept at such things, the humiliation and mortification on her face suggests otherwise. 

Those wild expressions suggest that - at least in the moment - the Queen had very much wanted to do exactly what she had done and had only panicked in the aftermath when she’d seen Emma’s face after the sheriff had pushed her away. A motion that Emma has little doubt that Regina had perceived as rejection. Which, it kind of had been but not for the reasons the brunette most certainly thinks. She hadn’t stopped the kiss because Regina is the former Evil Queen or even her previous enemy (hopefully that’s long behind them). She’d done it because she’d been surprised and caught off-guard and…and it had felt really good. Which…confusing.

Everything on this goddamn island is so confusing.

Like the fact that Regina had kissed her - and been emotional about it - even without her heart. How is that even possible? How could it be possible? Isn’t that outside of the rules of magic?

Cora Mills - admittedly vile and awful to begin with, by all accounts (and Emma finds that she hates how much even now Regina refuses to allow herself to heal from all that her mother had done to her) - hadn’t been able to produce a single benevolent or loving emotion when she’d been without her heart. For a long time, Regina had mistaken the obsession and violently possessive ownership that her mother had shown towards her as being an adequate stand-ins for the unconditional love that she, herself, shows Henry. She’d made excuses for Cora even as she’d fled her. She’d tried to find the best in the woman, desperate to be loved and wanted. Craving to simply be enough.

Wanting little more than for her own mother to love her as much as she loves Henry.

But without her heart, nothing beyond power and control could ever be enough for Cora.

Not even the daughter so very full of love to give.

So yeah, Emma has a lot of messy emotions right now and nowhere to really put those feelings that make sense - not in the middle of Neverland, anyway. Maybe, if they make it home all in one piece, they can have that conversation. The one where they talk about what happened in a calm and adult manner and decide if it means anything or if it was just spur of the moment. It’s not likely to be an easy or comfortable conversation, but Emma welcomes it if it means they all survive this. Problem is, she remains convinced that Regina has no intention of -

A loud cry cuts off her thoughts. Snapping around, she looks at her parents.

“Not us,” David states, his sword out. Hook draws his own and moves closer to the group.

“No,” Snow says, gravely, eyes wide and worried. “But I know that scream. Too well.”

“Regina,” Emma concludes, thinking about the terrible, wrenching sounds Regina had been making the previous evening. She looks around, trying to source where the sound had come from. One of the many, many issues with the damned island is how easy it to get turned around and find yourself in entirely the wrong place after little more than a turn or two. But the sound is close, she reasons, which means that Regina and whatever she’s facing has to be close, too.

“Oh, but you can’t help her, Savior,” a voice says from behind them. “No one can.”

As a group, they turn to face Pan and two of his Lost Boys, all of them armed. The young boys are wearing purple, red and green face-paint, intentionally attempting to intimidate. Pan seems to understand that he doesn’t need bells and whistles to scare - just his presence, no matter how understated it be in the body of a young teenager, does the job well enough. 

“Hello,” he greets almost amicably. 

“Where is she?” Emma demands, taking a step towards him. 

“Not here. Elsewhere now.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Emma snaps.

“Such language,” he scolds. “I’d have thought a child of Snow White would be more refined.”

“Yeah, well, I’m unique,” Emma retorts.

“That you are, Savior; that you are, indeed. Not that how unique you are will help our dear, damaged Queen in any way. She’s beyond the ability to be saved. Even by you.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“I did warn her, you know. Warned all of you. You should have left when you had the chance.”

“No more games, Pan; where are they?” Emma repeats, her own blade lifted. 

Pan laughs, sounding genuinely amused. “You really think your little sharp toys can hurt me?” A flick of his hand and all but Hook’s curved blade is thrown away, flicked into the woods to be potentially recovered later. “Oh, Killian, are you still weighting your handle against me? So very rude and disrespectful. You know I don’t like it.”

“Imagine how little I care and then go lower,” Hook drawls, pointing his sword. 

Pan hums and looks over at Emma. “You need better suitors, Savior.”

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” Apparently, she’s gonna go with bluffing her way out of the question.

“Between a drunken pirate and a heartless queen. Choices, choices.”

“Emma?” Snow queries.

“I’m not playing any more of your games. Where’s Regina? Where’s my son?”

“An old friend of hers is collecting her to bring back to my camp. We have so many games I want to play. I know Henry wants to play them, too.”

“What old friend?” Snow presses. “Gold?”

“You mean Rumplestilskin? My cowardly son? No, no; he’s doing other…things.”

“Rumplestilskin is your son?” David confirms, looking shocked. “Wait, how?”

“I know your daughter is almost thirty, but I presume you still recall how children are made?”

“You’re a child, yourself,” Snow reminds him.

“No, I have the body of one. I’m far, far older than that. Much as all of you except Emma are.”

“You sent Greg after Regina,” Emma says, suddenly, the answer dawning on her as she considers this terrible island and what had brought them all here in the first place.

“It’s quite the reunion,” Pan giggles. “The psychotic, broken little boy she destroyed and the evil woman who he destroyed in return. She’s still so delicate after what he put her through - her hands shaking, her body trembling like a small, delicate child. Part of me thinks to kill her outright, but no that would be merciful and our dear Queen deserves nothing of the sort. I must say, it’s going to be delicious tearing the rest of her body and soul apart bit by bit.”

“You can’t break her,” Snow announces. “Not Regina.”

“Watch me.” He steps back, grinning at Emma. “Tell me, Savior, if I were to offer you Henry in return for the Queen, would you accept that deal? And would you ever look back.”

“I won’t play your games.”

“Haven’t you been listening? It’s all a game - every minute on this island is. The deep conversations you’ve been having at night, the ones that make you think she’s more than just a monster? A game. There’s not a person there - just a beast to be hunted, tortured and killed.”

“I believe in her,” Emma states and doesn’t entirely know where the words are coming from and yet she knows that they’re true. They’ve only been here on Neverland for close to a week, and yet something has changed. It’d changed the moment they’d paired in the mines, but their relationship has deepened and become something where maybe trust is starting to form.

And she knows - knows - in this moment that she will do whatever it takes to save Regina, too.

“Heroes really do bring about their own downfall,” Pan sighs dramatically. “So much simpering faith and hope and where had it led any of you?” He looks over at Snow and David. “After so long away from your child, do you really have hope that the woman who caused you such pain is capable of more than that? Because she’s not.” His eyes flicker to Killian and he sneers. 

“I’m not a hero,” Hook reminds him, sounding flippant even if his eyes tell a different story.

“No, but if you don’t turn tail and run, you’ll die like one. How’s that for an end, Captain?”

“I’ll take you with me down to the Underworld if I go,” Hook promises.

Pan chuckles. He takes another step back, his Lost Boys flanking him as he moves towards the inky black of the woods behind him. To Emma, he says, “Find us if you can, but don’t hurry - I really do want to play with her a little before I have to put her down. Maybe take some time to consider my offer: Henry for the Queen. You have until you find us. After that, you all die.”

And then he’s fading back into the darkness, leaving the foursome huddled together.

A few seconds pass and then Emma says, “She let herself be captured.”

“What?” Snow demands, shock registering on her face for a moment before a kind of cold understanding overtakes it. She, who has known Regina longer than anyone else.

“Pan said Greg and Tamara were collecting her; I’d bet she made the deal I wouldn’t.”

“Her life for Henry’s,” David nods, frowning as he considers the violent implications. 

“So where is Henry, then?” Snow asks, looking around.

“Pan is the Prince of Lies,” Hook reminds them, before looking at Emma. “He may want to hurt Regina for pure ego, but he’s been hunting your boy for a very long time.”

“How long?” Emma asks, eyebrows knitting in worry. “And why?”

“No clue, but he’s been looking for Henry since before the lad even existed,” Hook allows. “He may act like it’s all a joke, but he won’t be giving the boy up without a fight.”

“A fight we have less of a chance of winning without Regina,” Snow puts in. 

“No, we’re going to get them both back,” Emma says, refusing to accept any kind of alternate reality. Refusing to imagine she might leave either her son or Regina behind.

She won’t.

No matter what.

Chapter Text

She’s just barely conscious when one of the burlier Lost Boys - his name is Ethan - carries her limp body into Pan’s camp, her head lolling as she fights for awareness and finds only shadows. To either side of her are the two deluded maniacs who had kidnapped her and tortured her and then had the audacity to steal her precious son as well. 

“There,” Pan instructs, gesturing towards a peculiar stone slab in the middle of the camp. There are unsettling maroon stains along the bottom edges of it.

“You want her tied down?” Rufio asks as he approaches, standing next to Pan, scowling down at the Queen.

“Won’t be necessary,” Pan shrugs, eyes narrowed as he watches Ethan drop the Queen down onto the slab, her body thumping hard against it. “The cuff will keep her magic in check.” He gestures towards the leather band that she’d been wearing during her two days of torture.

“So now what?” Greg demands. “Do I get to kill her now?” His eyes are wide, almost manic.

“Greg,” Tamara says, softly, as always reading the room better than her lover. Where he sees an opportunity to complete his life-long vendetta, she sees a situation rapidly spiraling out of control - an end game she is starting to understand probably doesn’t include her and Greg.

Pan laughs. “Afraid not, boyo. She’s mine.”

“No, she’s -“

Pan’s head snaps around, his eyes cold and mean, his jovial tone long gone. “If I were you, I’d take the generous reward you were given and find your way back to the realm you’re from. Keep up the good fight against monsters like her and rest assured that I will ensure she pays in terrible, terrible ways.”

“No. She’s mine,” Greg hisses. “I deserve the right to see her dead.”

“When she is, I’ll let you know,” Pan tells him, his tone dangerous. 

“I’m owed her life,” he simpers.

Pan smirks. “Let’s be honest, boy; you have no chance of actually destroying her. Not here, anyway. Look at you…just look. You’re pathetic. A waste of fury and vengeance. You had your chance to take her life and yet she lives. No, I’ll take it from here. But don’t worry, I’ll make sure that every moment she has left in this existence will be a terrible one. She can’t die without her heart in her chest, but I can make her damn well wish that she could. I’ll shred what’s left of her soul, rip apart her body and leave her a shivering, shuddering, mewling shell of her former self. I’ll break her in ways that even the Evil Queen couldn’t begin to imagine. She will simper and beg for mercy and I promise you that she will never receive any. She will suffer… terribly.”

“Baby, we should go; you got your revenge,” Tamara insists. “We should -“

“No!” And then he’s surging forward, his knife out like he intends to plunge it into the Queen’s heart while she lay barely conscious on the slab. He gets maybe three feet before he halts. Looking down, he sees the silver-tipped point of arrow emerging the front of him, the arrow having been fired into his back even as he’d approached the Queen. Gagging on his own blood as it surges upwards, he stumbles forward, as if thinking he can still get to Regina. Can still -

“Greg!” Tamara screams for him, but he’s aware of little beyond the pain in his chest. 

He falls face-first into the dirt, eyes open, staring ahead. 

“Well,” Pan drawls after Tamara’s sobs become muted gasps, the woman on her knees.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she simpers.

“No one takes what belongs to me. And both the boy and his mothers belong to me.”

“Mothers?” Tamara questions, thinking about the blonde woman who had almost defeated their plan to kidnap the the boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer.

Almost.

“Nothing you need to worry about. Now, will you be joining your lover in his grave or shall I ask Rufio to escort you back home. A word of warning, it’s a difficult flight, but you’ll survive it.”

“There’s nothing left for me here,” she says, numbly, crawling towards Greg’s body.

“Smart choice.” He reaches down to the bag at his side, and opens it, extracting two pinches of glittering magic. He drops them into Rufio’s dutifully spread palms. Almost immediately, the teen lifts off the ground, suddenly given the gift of flight courtesy of Tink’s stolen fairy dust.

“Ready?” Rufio asks, watching as Tamara gently strokes the cooling skin of Greg’s face. 

Tamara doesn’t answer at first; she leans down and kisses Greg on the forehead, her own tears spilling across his sightless eyes. “Be at peace now, baby. No one can hurt you, anymore.” And then she’s standing and looking directly at Pan. “It’d be unwise to underestimate them.”

“The Charmings?” Pan sneers. 

“Henry’s mothers.” And then she’s taking Rufio’s hand and letting him lift her into the air. Her eyes stay on Greg’s body as she’s rising, until she can no longer see him.

Until those on the ground can no longer see her or Rufio.

And then Pan turns to Ethan and says, “Bring Henry here. He needs to see her like this.”

“Is he ready?” Ethan queries. 

“To kill her? No, of course not. But he needs to see just how weak she actually is.”

Ethan smirks and then crosses the camp over to the tent where Henry is being held. Pan watches, thoughtful and excited by the turn of events. The boy has been less than accommodating thus far, insistent that his mothers will save him and end Pan. He’s been so sure - so full of hope - that the love his mothers share for him will be enough. He might even have been right if not for the Queen’s clearly suicidal disposition. That she had - without a fight or even a real negotiation to ensure Henry’s safety - surrendered herself says everything about her turbulently dark mental state. A dire state of being that he has every intention of exploiting.

Because even without her heart in her chest - and he wonders exactly where it is; has the Queen always been without it? No, that doesn’t seem likely. It’s far more probable that she had hidden it somewhere to keep it safe from him. No matter - he might not be able to kill her without her heart in her chest, but there are a hundred different ways to break a proud woman.

He plans to spend a few hundred years enjoying each and every one of them.

Emma is frantic.

There’s really no other way to put it. Ever since the foursome had set up camp, she’s been pacing around anxiously, her sword clutched tight in her hand. Like she’s expecting some kind of violent attack to come at them from the trees. But there’s no attack coming, she knows.

Because right now, Pan has who he wants and he knows the others will come to him.

“Swan,” Hook says as he approaches, his flask extended to her. “Rum.”

“I hate rum,” she mutters as she takes the flask from it, pops the top and takes a heavy swig.

“The Queen is resilient,” Hook reminds her as he takes the flask back and takes his own hit from it.

"Aren't you the one who has been saying she's not strong enough to take on Pan?"

"Aye, but I know her well enough to know that there are greater mistakes than to underestimate her."

“Normally, I’d agree, but she’s not…herself these days. Her fight is…less.” She frowns when she says this, her mind cycling through the events of the last year. From the return of Cora Mills to Regina’s life all the way to her kidnapping and torture at Greg Mendell’s hands and then the exhaustion and terror of the mine. And those things don’t include the other bullshit that Cora had put her through before dying (it’s own trauma) inclusive of being framed for murder and having her son turn his back on her (even if he’d eventually comes around). She’s been through more hurt in the last year than most people could possibly go through in multiple lifetimes.

Not that Regina Mills has ever been anything even vaguely approaching normal.

“You've said it yourself: she won’t let anyone hurt your boy.”

“Honestly, I’m more worried about her right now. She just handed herself over to a maniac who wants to make a show of harming her and we’re here doing nothing."

“He won’t kill her,” a voice says from behind them. When Hook and Emma turn, they sees Tink approaching, her steps careful, like she’s worried about calling too much attention to herself. She looks anxious, jittery, even paranoid considering how often she looks around.

Emma thinks to ask her why she’s here in the first place, but it’s not the most immediate question. Instead, she queries, “How do you know? He doesn’t exactly seem merciful.”

“Oh, he’s not,” Tink agrees, bobbing her head. 

“He’s an outright bastard,” Hook concurs. 

“Then, I’m unsure how you’re so sure he won’t try to kill her.”

“Because he can’t. As long as her heart is with me, she can’t die.” To prove her point, Tink holds up a plain wooden box, the Queen’s removed heart clearly within it.

“She can’t,” Emma repeats, thoughtfully. 

“No. But that doesn’t mean he can’t hurt her. So yes, getting to her is of some immediacy.”

“Why do you care?” Snow asks as she comes over to the group. “I thought you hated her.”

“No more than you do,” Tink answers, looking right at Snow, her eyes saying everything.

Snow frowns at that, but doesn’t offer any kind of clarification.

“Right,” Tink nods, seeming to hear it, anyway. “It’s been a very long time since the days when I knew Regina best. She’s changed in incredible ways - thanks primarily to this family of yours.” She looks over at Emma. “The son you share. Your mother.” She pauses, then adds, “You.”

“So she’ll try to sacrifice herself, but Pan can’t actually kill her,” Emma summarizes. “Do you imagine she knew that when she handed herself over to him?”

“Logically? Of course. She’s taken too many hearts not to know the rules of them,” Tink insists. 

“She’s not exactly operating logically right now,” David notes.”

“Exactly,” Snow acknowledges, her own tone grim and worried.

“I’m guessing if we do a frontal attack on the camp, we won’t stand a chance,” Emma queries.

“He’s waiting for you,” Tink agrees. “Your best option is to keep him waiting. Be subtle.”

“Not exactly a family skill,” Charming sighs. 

“Perhaps not,” Tink acknowledges. “But if you want to save her and your boy -“

“Then we need to go about this strategically,” Emma finishes. “Okay. So now what?”

“Now, we all get a night of sleep. It probably won’t be a good one, but it’ll still be something. If we try to go up against Pan on fumes, he’ll destroy us all,” Hook explains.

“He’s right,” Tink nods. “Sleep. In the morning, we’ll figure out our next step.”

Emma narrows her eyes. “Why should we trust you? You took Regina’s heart.”

“To keep it safe because I knew what she’d try to do. I may not know her as well as you do, Savior, but I still remember the self-destructive young girl who couldn’t choose love because of fear. I know who she is when she’s like this. As for why you should trust me? I don’t really have an answer for that - my story with Regina is complicated and painful, and I’m not sure that forgiveness is possible. It may not be, but I’ve held her heart for the last several days and I’ve felt the love she holds within it. Love for all of you. Years ago, I tried to help her, but failed because I refused to understand that she wasn’t ready to let go of her anger and hatred yet. I tried to force the issue - I genuinely thought just letting go would set her free - but in doing so, I ignored the everyday trauma she was experiencing. And how helpless she felt. She feels that now, too - desperate and heartbroken and sad because she believes no one could ever really love her and so the only option available to her is to sacrifice herself for all of you.”

“I’m not going to allow that,” Emma declares. Then corrects, “We’re not.”

Staunchly, she ignores the curious looks from her parents, but then Snow is settling her hands on her hips and affecting a more intense and serious gaze - one that Regina would, herself, be clear that she recognizes and knows that it’s about to lead to absurd stubbornness in the face of all reason. Not like Regina has room to talk. Coolly, Snow echoes, “No, we’re not.”

“Well, that’s that, then,” Hook states. “In the morning, we’ll recover our missing crew and get the hell off of this bloody vile rock. With or without the Dark One in tow.”

“I’d forgotten about him,” Charming admits.

“He has his own issues,” Tink allows. “And won’t be able to help us. At least not yet.”

“But you will,” Emma presses again, suddenly desperately needing to ensure that Regina and Henry’s rescue team wants them back safe and sound as much as she does. She needs them to be as willing to put it all out there to bring her family home as she is. But..she’s not sure.

How could she be considering the dark, painful history between Regina and Tink?

And Emma only knows the general outline of the story.

“I don’t want her hurt anymore than she already is,” Tink admits. “Like I said, forgiveness may not even be possible between us, but if she truly has found a reason to have the hope she was so incapable of so very long ago, then I want to see that story through. Maybe I need to see it.”

“Okay,” Emma agrees, reading the desperate urgency in Tink’s eyes. “Come morning, we end this once and for all. No one gets left behind.”

She’s greeted with nods of understanding and acceptance from the others.

A clear - if potentially violent - path forward.

Is it dangerous? Absolutely. Could it backfire horrendously? Certainly. Even probably.

But…could it actually work thereby resulting in Regina and Henry safe and sound back in Storybrooke and maybe her and Regina getting to have an adult conversation about the kiss? Well, the first part is most certainly possible - in fact, it’s an absolute certainty as far as she’s concerned - but as for the latter, well Emma knows better than to hold her breath about them having such a grounded discussion no matter how desperately they need to have it.  

No matter how much Emma realizes she wants to have it…for whatever unknown reason. 

All of that, though, can wait for when they’re back in Storybrooke.

Or at the least, on their way home. Regina and Henry safe and Pan defeated. 

Closing her eyes, Emma knows with absolute certainty that that’s how this is all going to end.

As all things must in this insane family of theirs: with hope for tomorrow.

Henry gasps in disbelieving horror.

And then cries out for her and tries to get to her, flailing against the two Lost Boys holding him in place. “Let me go,” he growls, tears leaking down his face as he gazes at his mother. From where he’s standing, he can tell that she’s alive (she sees her moving restlessly, if not exactly consciously). His eyes, though, track to the cuts and bruises littering her face and arms. 

“Henry, my boy, be calm,” Pan says in a tone that’s equal parts soothing and scolding. 

“I’ll kill you if you hurt my mother,” Henry snaps, eyes wide and hysterical as he continues struggling, even managing to get one arm loose before he’s violently yanked back.

“Oh, Henry, Henry,” Pan chuckles. “While I appreciate the sentiment, your mother isn’t here.”

“I have two mothers,” he declares, chin up. “And if you hurt either of them -“

“Oh, I won’t. You will.” Said so simply and evenly, like he hasn’t a doubt in his mind.

He doesn’t.

“Never,” Henry insists.

A few boys around him chuckle nervously, but Pan is grinning. Like he knows a terrible secret - like maybe he’s been down this path a few dozen times and all of the kids on this horrible island of his started out this way. Maybe they all started out hoping that they’d be saved.

And maybe none of them ever were because in the end, they chose Pan.

But Henry Mills has no intention of ever being a Lost Boy. He isn’t lost and never will be.

“She’s my mother,” he announces. “And you don’t have a chance against either of them.”

“We shall see, young Henry. For now, though, I want you to just look at her. Really look. You’ve hated her for so long - called her the Evil Queen. Which she is. You know the terrible, wicked things she’s done. How could someone like her ever be worthy of being loved? How could she even be capable of it. Do you know she removed her own heart? Just like her mother did.”

“I’m sure she had her reasons.”

Pan hums. “Do you really believe that without her heart, she could ever choose you?”

“I…” Henry freezes, suddenly thinking about Cora and how without her heart in her chest, she’d never been willing to choose her daughter over power and obsession, and instead had hurt her in terrible ways. At his young age, he doesn’t really understand all that was done to his mother (and he only really knows about as much as he does from overhearing conversations - grimly whispered - between Emma and his grandparents), but he realizes and sees enough to grasp that Cora’s horrific treatment of her daughter had harmed her in ways that had helped to bring about the madness, violence and cruelty of the Evil Queen. 

Pan seems to sense his uncertainty and moves in closer. When he speaks, he pitches his voice low, like he’s being compassionate and empathetic. “No, she couldn’t. You can’t love without a heart, Henry, and she removed hers. She’s just a sad, pathetic vessel of evil now.”

“You’re… no, no…you’re wrong.”

“You know I’m not.”

“Then let me go to her. If you’re right, what does it matter?”

Pan nods to the boys to let Henry go. Immediately, he surges across the camp until he’s right at Regina’s side and then he’s clutching her hand. “Mom, it’s Henry; I’m here.”

He gets no response from her, just continuous jerky movement and odd pained sounds.

“You see the way she trembles and mewls like a small child, Henry?”

“What did you do to her?”

“Oh, not me. I didn’t do this - Mendell did. Because of what she took from him. He hurt her terribly back in your Storybrooke. Not as badly here, but she's not quite right, is she? Thing is, she can’t actually die without her heart in her chest,” Pan says as he again steps close. “But she still is dying. No one can survive all that she has and come out wanting to live.” He almost sounds kind, a hand settling on Henry’s shoulder as if to offer him comfort.

“She won’t give up. She never gives up.” Tears sprinkle down Henry’s pale cheeks. Because this is wrong - every part of this is wrong.

And yet, undeniably, it’s still happening and he doesn’t know how to make it better. What chance does he have against a dozen teenage boys much bigger than him? He needs his family to get out of this - inclusive of both of his mothers and his grandparents. But right now, one of his mothers looks to be both physically and mentally incapable of such a thing. If that’s true - and he fears that it is - then there’s no hope and he’s not sure he can handle that.

He, the Boy With the Heart of the Truest Believer.

He, the one who knows without a doubt that if he loses his mother, he’ll lose part of his heart.

“Have faith,” Pan smirks. “This fight isn’t over yet. Emma Swan will come and maybe she will save the day. Maybe your mothers will pair their extraordinary magic and well…”

He laughs, like he thinks his own words are monstrously stupid.

Henry ignores him, just keeps clutching Regina’s hand and talking to her. Telling her to hold on, to not give up, to believe that their family will find them and it will all be okay

It has to be.

Pan, for his part, just watches. Unbothered by Henry’s love for his wounded mother.

Keen eyes thoughtful, but unconcerned.

Like he’s seen this a few dozen times, too. 

And in the end, he’d won, anyway. Because Pan?

Always wins. 

It takes almost an hour of keeping her eyes tightly closed and praying for sleep while trying to shut off the frantic anxiety in her mind saying that this little bit of rest is a terrible risk and -

“Swan,” she hears. Low, throaty, intoxicating. Wait, what? Blinking desperately, she becomes aware of her surroundings and laughs at the insanity of her thoughts as well as the inanity of this whole goddamn situation that they’re all trapped within.

“Really?” Emma asks as she glances around the dream version of their campsites. “You came into my dream and thought, hey, instead of a nice warm and cozy coffee shop -“

“We don’t have time for your absurdities right now,” Regina cuts in, seeming a curious mix of what sure looks like affectionately annoyed and deeply impatient. 

"No, I get that, but how did - this is really you, right? You made this happen?"

"I made this happen," Regina admits, cryptically, glancing thoughtfully around before returning her gaze. "Now, can we focus, please, on how time is running out for our son?"

“And for you. All because you stupidly handed yourself over to Pan.”

“Henry -“

“Is still with Pan,” Emma snaps back, frustration in her tone. “Terrible deal, Your Majesty.”

“No, it was probably not one of my better ones,” Regina agrees, glancing around the dream camp. “I might be a bit - loathe as I am to admit it - in over my head."

“Don’t worry; we’re coming for you.”

“I know.”

“What? No attempts to talk me out of it.”

“I’m not exactly in good enough condition to defeat Pan on my own. Or at all.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. “How hurt are you?”

“I don't feel great, but I'm more drained than hurt,” Regina concedes. “ I just…I feel there’s nothing inside of me. Like everything is dull and gray.”

“Isn’t that normal when one removes their own heart?”

Regina gives her an unimpressed half-glare, but it seems more like show as opposed to the real ire that Emma knows that her counterpart is capable of. “It’s not my heart,” she insists before pausing and reluctantly allowing. “It's not just my heart. Though the absence of it certainly isn’t helping me out with this. But no, it’s more…what happened before the Jolly Roger. I’m not quite…right.” Unbeknownst to her, she's echoing words said about her by both the Charmings and Peter Pan.

“You went through a hell of a lot.”

“I deserved to go through a lot more than that and we both know it.”

“I don’t believe that.”

Regina just rolls her eyes. It’s vaguely adorable and Emma knows she has a problem. One that maybe needs to be confronted before Pan finds a way to use it against them.

So, carefully, Emma queries, “Since you brought us here, why did you kiss me?”

“You’re asking me this now?” Regina demands. 

“Seems to me it might be my only chance considering your plan to die for Henry.”

“You’re an actual idiot, Swan,” Regina hisses.

“You keep saying that, but you didn’t actually answer my question. You hate me, right?”

“Obviously, I don’t,” Regina replies rather grumpily, unwittingly echoing Snow’s prior comment.

“Are you saying you…like me…like that?”

“What are we six?”

“Were you dating at six?”

“No,” Regina replies archly, and Emma doesn’t miss the shadow that crosses Regina’s face. They may be talking inside of a dreamscape, but this is definitely her Regina.

Well, not her as in hers, of course.

But, she insists to herself, the point holds: this woman arguing with her is the Regina she’s known and hated and…maybe not hated for the last two years. A mercurial mess of razor-sharp intelligence, cutting sarcasm, self-destructive stubbornness, horrific trauma, desperate emotion, poor choices, too much love (who would have ever thought such a thing possible? Certainly not a kid who’d grown up an orphan), and the bitter scars of constant betrayal. Add to that that this is also a woman who uses bravado to hide just how much she’s hiding. Such as right now when Regina is sputtering out some half-assed meant-to-be stinging rebuke about how Emma should focus on their son and not her teenage hormones. If it weren't quite so obvious that Regina is very blatantly trying to run away from this discussion, it’d be amusing to just sit back and watch how much she’s flailing to explain why she’d kissed Emma. 

What it had meant.

Finally, Emma has enough and cuts in - something only she dares  to do. “Hey, we’re getting our kid home, Regina. And you. That’s non-negotiable no matter what suicidal ideas you have. So maybe we can stop with this and you can either answer my question or at least tell me why you’re visiting me in my dreams. Because this isn’t usually how dreams with you go.”

Regina’s eyebrow rockets upwards, a slight flush on her cheeks (fascinating, Emma muses, that a person can blush inside a dream). “How exactly do your…nevermind.” Regina shakes her head. “I don’t actually want to know what kind of lurid dreams you’ve involved me in.”

Emma laughs. “You really are a piece of work.”

Regina stiffens suddenly. “If you say so,” she replies rather shortly.

The blonde tilts her head. “What did I say?”

“You’ve forgotten so soon?”

Emma takes a breath, reminds herself that Regina is being difficult, because it’s the only thing she really knows how to be. “Why did me calling you that upset you? And don’t say it didn’t.”

There’s a brief pause and then, “You called my mother that as well.”

“Ah,” Emma nods, remembering the forest and the green death curse that Regina had consumed to bring her enemies home. Then shrugs. “Well, you’re obviously not her.”

“Aren’t I? I don’t have my heart in my chest.”

“Are you actually allowing us to talk about Cora? Because if so, I'd like to remind you that the lack of a heart hasn’t stopped you from loving our kid.”

“I’m not sure my version of love is anything to brag about, but regardless, my lack of a heart could still endanger him just as much as my mothers' lack of one doomed me. You have to get to us, Emma.” The banter falls entirely away, and then there’s a sudden intensity in the Queen’s dark, terribly sad eyes. “Pan knows I don’t have a heart and plans to use that against me and Henry. He’s going to try to make Henry kill me.”

“Our kid would never and not only because that’s not who he is. He loves you.”

“He does. I don’t know why, but he does and Pan will use that. No matter what, you have to get here before he makes Henry do something he can’t live with. Please.”

“He can’t kill you - Tink has your heart,” Emma reminds him.

“Tink loathes me,” Regina reminds her. “And would probably hand it over to Pan.”

“Don’t be so sure about that,” Emma says, cryptically, not willing to tell her that Tink had actually taken Regina’s heart to protect her. What if Pan is able to view this dream? Is that something that a magic user can do? How would she know? “But we are on our way.”

“Good,” Regina nods and starts to step back.

“Hey, what about my question? Why did you kiss me?”

"Emma, what exactly are you expecting to happen here? Shall I express my feelings and then we'll make out and dance the night away in each other's arms?"

"An interesting thought, but also not an answer. Stop avoiding the question. Why did you kiss me?"

“Was it that revolting?” Regina queries, her expression unreadable.

“No. It was actually…I didn’t hate it?”

“Is that a question or a statement, because I’m the last one qualified to answer whether you liked it or not. But from where I stood, you seemed rather turned off by it.”

“I wasn’t...at all, actually. I was just surprised. I didn’t think you had interest in me like that.”

Regina doesn’t reply, clearly unwilling to give too much away and have it thrown back in her face.

Something Emma rather understands, but that doesn’t stop her from pushing. “Why?”

Regina sighs. “I kissed you because I wanted to feel something.”

Emma chuckles. “Disgust?”

Without warning, the Queen takes a sudden, aggressive step towards her, causing Emma to stiffen in response. “You keep saying that I hate you and that I’m disgusted by you, but we both know the truth, Emma: I’m the Evil Queen and you’re the Savior. If anyone has the right to be disgusted, it's you. That you keep saving me…”

“Maybe I want to.”

“Because you’re the Savior,” Regina acknowledges.

“Sure, if you say so. But also because I think you’re far more than the Evil Queen, and I don’t really understand why you’re so desperate not to allow yourself to be more."

Regina’s brow furrows, like she’s trying to parse Emma’s words. Like they don’t make sense and she needs to figure out what Emma’s angle is. Because there has to be one. In her life, few beyond perhaps Maleficent (she’d like to think Henry, but she struggles to allow herself to really believe that her son actually loves her) have ever cared for her without need or malice being the driving force. It’s near-to-impossible for her to believe that this woman especially could ever.

“Hey,” Emma says gently and then she’s the one approaching. “I didn’t mind the kiss. Really, I mean that. And...I'm not...dancing sounds nice, actually."

“It was instinct," Regina murmurs. "I didn’t…I just...I felt something and I wanted to understand it and…” Regina shakes her head in frustration. She looks over at the campfire, only roaring here in this shared dream of theirs. “Do you think if you concentrate, you can put the fire out with your magic?”

“Maybe? But why? Aren’t I supposed to be creating fire, not dousing it.”

“Every part of fire is about control. You have to be able to create and destroy it.” It feels like a bit of a loaded statement.

So Emma answers in-kind. “Will you show me?”

“Will you promise to prioritize Henry? To make sure that he makes it home even if I don’t?”

“I promise I will do what you would do if our situations were reversed: save our son and let nothing get in the way of bringing his family - including you - back together."

“That’s not what I would do and we both know it.”

“No, we don’t. As you just reminded me, you inhaled a death curse to bring your oldest enemy and your newest enemy home all because Henry asked you to do so. And that’s far from the only time you’ve put him first - no matter how much doing so has hurt you even worse.”

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for him.”

“I know. So show me how to control fire,” Emma asks. “Everything else, we’ll figure out together.” Their eyes meet and she's saying so very, very much.

Regina sighs. “It’s the same lesson as with the leaf. You have to think about what you want to do, control your emotions and make it happen.. Everything else is inside of you.”

“Because I’m the child of True Love?” Emma mocks.

That earns a short, almost melodic laugh from the Queen and Emma feels rather proud of herself for being the cause of even this much mirth. “No, Emma; your parents having endless sex all around the castle they stole from me is not why you’re as powerful as you are.”

“Ew.”

Regina makes a face, equally disgusted with her own words. “Yes, their obnoxious True Love idiocy certainly gifted you with magic, but my parents hated each other and I was born with elemental magic as well. But it isn’t nature that decides what kind of magic we have; rather, it’s the kind of lives we’ve lived that does that. You went through hell because of my selfishness - the same selfishness that led to Owen doing what he did to me in Storybrooke. It’s why we’re here in Neverland. Difference between you and me, Emma, is that you didn’t fold when life shit on you. You didn’t became a monster as I did. No, you became a warrior, a hero for those who have been harmed and your magic became the strongest kind of light magic in existence because of that choice . I did break and I became the worst kind of evil. While I am powerful, no one - perhaps not even the Dark One - is as strong as you are. You’re…remarkable.” 

It’s impossible to miss the affection in the Queen’s low voice, and yet still, Emma tries, opening her mouth to reply before snapping it shut as the words refuse to come.

Instead, Regina says, “It’s time for me to go. I think he’s trying to wake me up.”

“Henry?”

“Pan. He wants to…play. Somehow, I rather doubt that I'm going to enjoy his games.”

“We’re on our way,” Emma promises. 

“Henry first. Never forget that.”

“I won’t,” Emma vows.

That seems to be enough for Regina and then she’s stepping back towards the shadows, as if to vanish into them and back to the waking world. Before she can get too far, though, Emma is catching her hand and swinging her back so that they’re close - close enough to kiss.

Emma lifts her hand and gently touches Regina’s lower lip with her pointer finger. “Why?”

“I told you: because I felt something and I wanted to understand and now... now I do."

"Then help me understand," Emma pleads.

Regina shakes her head. "I felt...I realized that I don’t hate you, but what I do feel for you isn’t any better. Not for you, anyway. It might even be worse.”

“Because you care about me?”

“The way I care about people, it tends to do more harm than good.”

“Says who?”

“You need to be smarter than this, Swan; I’m not someone worth wasting emotion on. I know you’re a White Knight who can’t stop herself from it, but don’t throw away your chance to get the hell off of this rock for me. Protect our son - even if the cost is me. Do you understand?”

The sheriff shakes her head. “I do, but we’re all gonna be okay. And when we’re through this -“

Regina cuts her off by leaning up and very lightly kissing Emma on the lips. Not quite chaste, but also not particularly aggressive. It lasts for ten maybe fifteen seconds and Emma is enjoying it, giving back as much as she’s getting, indulging in the soft, almost lazy kisses.

Finally, Regina breaks away. She smiles sadly, brokenly and says in a voice that shakes as badly as her hands are (fascinating that they’re doing so even in this curious dreamscape), “It’s best if we never speak of this again.” And then Regina is stepping away and vanishing into the shadows. 

Leaving Emma to stare after her in confusion and frustration.

Until she remembers the urgency of Regina’s words. The desperation and fear in them.

The need to get to Henry before Pan forces him to do something he will never be able to forgive himself for. Something that will irreparably destroy this fragile family of theirs.

Jaw clenching, Emma wills herself back to consciousness, letting out a soft gasp as the dream fades and the real - covered in shadows beyond the flickering embers from the fire - campsite comes into view. Everyone around her slumbering restlessly, fitfully, but still so very unaware.

Standing up, she looks up at the trees and says quietly, firmly, “I’m coming for you, Pan.”

The trees whistle and maybe laugh. 

“I’ve fought too hard for this family of mine. You can’t have them.”

Another rustle of leaves and then, like a whisper, “Then come. Come and die.”

Emma grins, a flush of righteous fury and adrenaline making her bold. “I don’t die easy.”

“We’ll see,” the trees whisper.

“Yeah,” Emma Swan - now perhaps the Queen’s White Knight - vows. “We will.”

“How do you imagine this will go, Your Majesty?” Pan taunts as he circles the stone slab, looking down at his tied up captive, his intelligent eyes taking in her many injuries. None are particularly serious so much as aggravating and uncomfortable. He doesn’t want her to just bleed out and tumble into unconsciousness - there’s no fun in that. So many better plans. So many better amusements to be had.

“I expect you’ll torture me by babbling at me endlessly,” Regina rasps, every word a struggle, her exhausted body continuing to shudder beneath weeks of bone-deep trauma.

“That’s definitely a thought,” he agrees, tapping the sharp end of a knife against his chin. “But I’ve done that so many times before and it’s not nearly as fun as you’d think.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Oh, but I think we both know you would - and do - know. Because you’re the worst of the worst, aren't you, Regina? You make the things I’ve done look amateurish.”

“So much for not babbling at me,” she grouses.

He grins. “I have waited so long for a true challenge.”

“As if you’re in my league,” she sniffs. She thinks she can hear Emma in her mind scolding her and pleading with her not to taunt Pan, but honestly, defiance is her only way.

“As a killer? No, most certainly not. What do you think, Henry? Is she the worst?”

“Don’t you dare speak to my son,” Regina growls.

“Oh, but you’re not in control here,” Pan reminds her. “I am. Your boy belongs to me.”

“She’ll come for him.”

“Who? The Savior?” He laughs. “Hardly a threat. Barely even a hero.”

Regina grins, blood - from the initial attack on her - on her lips making her look more than a little crazed and demented. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”

“Her or you? Because you’re tied down and weak as a kitten. And your Savior -“

“Emma,” Regina says, sharply. “And she’ll be the end of you.”

“And also you.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Mom!” Henry cries out, fear and grief in his tone. “No!”

Pan turns his head, looking over his shoulder at the struggling boy being once again held in place. He’d been peeled away from Regina while she’d still been unconscious, held back from offering her comfort or reassurance and his fear is clearly escalating as he sees her all but ready to give up just as long as it means he’ll be safe. His shocked face tells the story of just how little he can handle such an ending to this story of theirs. Despite his anger and hurt over the lies that had come between them for several years, she’s his mother and he loves her.

He loves her and he can’t handle seeing her hurt like this.

Something Peter Pan has every intention of using to his advantage…even as he twists it. For now, though, he settles with taunting the immobile Queen. “You say that now, but we both know you’re a cockroach. You don’t know how to just die, do you? Don’t worry, I’ll help.”

“You don’t frighten me, little boy.”

“You know I’m not a little boy,” Pan smirks.

“I don’t care what you are. You’re irrelevant.” Her eyes are bright and shining and even if the end is once again barreling towards her, she’s never felt quite so invigorated and in charge. All she has to do is keep Pan distracted and busy sparring with her - give Emma time to get here.

After that, it doesn’t matter what happens to her - she knows Emma will protect Henry.

“Irrelevant,” he repeats, and she knows she’s scored a direct hit on his ego. A few seconds pass as he dwells on her words and then suddenly, he grins. “I have an idea.”

“I’m sure I don’t care.”

“Oh, but you will. You see, one of my favorite things to do is play games and one of my favorites games of all is called ‘Hunter and Prey’. Want to guess which one you are?”

“I’m always the hunter,” Regina tells him, but it’s a bit of a bluff. Her heart isn’t in her chest and thus her emotions should be substantially less, and yet right now, what she feels is true fear. Not that she has any intention of letting him know or see it.

“Keep that energy;; you’re going to need it.” He backs away and looks at one of the older boys. “Set the board, Johnny. Let’s go with…six on one. That sounds fair to me.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Henry insists. 

Pan walks towards him, smirking so confidently, his earlier trepidation wiped away as his excitement for the impending hunt overtakes him. “Of course, I do, Henry. I’m the leader here which means it’s my job to protect all of you. How can we possibly do that with an Evil Queen in our midst? No, no, my boy, we have to stop her once and for all. We have to end her evil.”

“No, you don’t understand. She isn’t that person, anymore.”

Pan reaches out and touches Henry’s chin, lifting it. Behind them, Regina demands that he take his hands off her son, but he ignores her - makes her irrelevant. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret, Henry; no one really ever changes. Not for real, anyway. They try, they pretend, they go through the motions, but in the end…we are who we are. That evil woman is every bit the demon that I am and so much worse. She’s not worthy of you and never will be.”

“She’s my mother,” Henry declares, angrily jerking away from Pan’s touch. “She will always be that no matter how many times you try to tell me otherwise. I know who she is.”

“Do you? That book of yours…it tells a different story, doesn't it?”

“It doesn’t tell the whole story,” he insists. “Only the worst parts.”

“Not nearly,” Pan chuckles. “She’s evil beyond your imagination. We have to put her down.”

“I’ll kill you before I hurt her,” Henry retorts.

“Henry, no!” Regina exclaims, tears hot on her cheeks. It’s her worst nightmare made flesh - her sweet, innocent, loving boy willing to shed blood for anyone, but especially her. 

Pan just grins. Over his shoulder, he tells Johnny, “Go. Get our board ready.”

“What gear?” Johnny - a boy of about fifteen, his face smeared with blue and red paint - asks. 

Pan thinks for a second, then looks to Henry. “What do you think, Henry? Knives? Sticks? Rocks?"

Henry just glares back at him.

“I agree - uninteresting even if spectacularly bloody. Go with bows, Johnny. Remind the lads to stay clear of vital organs. She may not be able to die without her heart in her chest, but we also don’t want her comatose.”

“On it,” Johnny nods and then he’s walking away.

Pan rubs his hands together in glee. “I like a good game, Henry. I think you’ll like this one, too.”

But Henry is ignoring him now, looking right into his mother’s dark, pained eyes. “Mom.”

“It’s all right,” she assures him, smiling sadly at him. “It’s going to be okay.”

Pan watches, amused and thoughtful. Certain of his impending victory over the Queen.

Certain as the sun will fall in Neverland that when this is all over, the Queen - and her witless do-gooder rescuers - will be dead and the boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer will be forever his. 

Chapter Text

“Emma,” Snow says as she catches up to her very focused, very intense daughter. “Stop.”

“No time to stop,” Emma declares and keeps pushing forward, hacking at the vines and bushes that are overgrown and in their way. Behind them, Hook and David and Tink move far deliberately and carefully, but in Emma’s exhausted mind, there isn’t the time for such things. All she can think about is the dream she’d shared with Regina and what it means for the two most important people in her life. Wait, what? When had Regina joined the same list as Henry?

“Honey,” Snow tries again, reaching for her. “If we reach his camp dead on our feet -“

“We still might be better off than they are,” Emma insists as she turns to face her mother. 

“Regina can hold her own. You know she can.”

“Do I? Sure, maybe the woman who created Storybrooke years ago could, but in case you hadn’t noticed, she’s not that woman, anymore. She’s a long way from that.”

“I know,” Snow admits. “But, Emma, we have to be careful. Regina may not have the killer instincts she used to, but Pan does and if we run in without a plan -“

“I have a plan,” Emma cuts in. “Save my son and my - save Regina.”

Snow frowns. “Your -“

“Co-mother.” It’s a weak save, and Snow looks like she’s going to argue it and push for what Emma is really thinking, but then suddenly she’s backing down and nodding. 

“Okay,” she allows. “But we still need to stop for the night.” She looks up at the quickly darkening sky; they’ve been hiking all day and while Tink and Hook assures them that they’re close (they’ve come across multiple crude trail-markers -  a doll, a toy truck, a blood-tinged spear planted heavily in the ground - a way to help disorientated Lost Boys to find their way “home” to Pan, Hook insists grimly), they’re still at least a full day away from Pan’s camp.

Emma thinks to argue, thinks to insist that they keep going and pushing because every minute could cost Regina and Henry, but then she’s looking back over her shoulder and remembering that Tink is with them and with Tink is Regina’s heart. Which means she has at least that much time left (Emma remains quietly skeptical of Tink’s sudden desire to help the queen she claims to hate, worried that this is all a trap, but what choice do they have besides to trust her?). It’s not exactly reassuring to realize how fragile Regina’s line between life and death potentially is - held entirely in the hands of a vengeful and not exactly sane fairy notorious for her connections to Pan - but focusing on such does little to actually help Henry’s complicated other mother. 

Only action matters. Only action can save her family now.

“We go until sun-down,” Emma states. “And then we’ll stop until sun-rise.”

“That seems…acceptable,” Snow agrees. She hesitates for a moment, then reaches out and takes Emma’s hand in hers, lightly squeezing it. “I know…I know things are messy especially between the two of you and not exactly as black and white as any of us would prefer -“

“Not sure any of our lives have ever been that simple,” Emma shrugs.

“No,” Snow concurs. “My history with Regina is…anything but simple, but then I think that’s the case for most of her relationships with any depth or meaning.” Her eyes flicker up so that they’re meeting Emma’s and Emma knows that her mother understands far more about the strange and curious relationship between the Queen and the Savior than she’s letting on.

Before Emma can reply - and she’s truly not sure what she would say (certainly nothing about the multiple kisses she and Regina have now shared, even if one occurred in a dreamscape), but before she has to figure out what to say, Hook is calling out for them, “We need to stop.”

Emma and Snow turn, Emma frowning. “Sun isn’t down yet,” the blonde reminds him.

“It will be within the hour.”

“Then we go until then.”

“You don’t know Neverland like Hook and I do,” Tink cautions. “Bad things don’t happen only at night - dusk is when the Lost Boys start to come out to play."

“If we stop now, will we still reach them by tomorrow?”

“Aye,” Hook assures her. “Pan wants us to find him.”

“And we will,” Tink promises. “But if we try to take him on at night -“

“We get it,” David says, his voice gentle and soothing in a way that annoys the shit out of Emma. It’s not that she doesn’t understand that her father is trying to calm her ire, it’s just that she can’t stand being handled. She suddenly has an appreciation for how little Regina likes it.

“There’s a dry creek about a mile up,” Hook notes, glancing at Emma's deciphered map. “We should be able to stay the night safely there and continue on in the morning.”

“Why doesn’t Pan attack us at night?” Snow asks, abruptly. “When he’s at his strongest.”

“It doesn’t serve him to come to us,” Hook answers. “He knows that we’ll come to him.”

Tink nods. “Why waste energy hunting us when we’re going to do the work for him.”

“Should we?” David queries. “I mean if that’s what he’s expecting?”

“Not sure we have a choice here,” Emma says, grimly and then turns and walks back in the direction that the map says the dry creek is, leaving the others to stare at her back in worry. All of them concerned that their Savior is perhaps a bit too invested in the safety of not only her son, but also the woman who has caused so much pain to her family and so many others.

But then, Snow thinks as she thoughtfully watches her daughter disappear into the trees, it’s not like Emma is alone in that. There seems to be something deeper and more between Regina and Emma, but it’s not like Snow, herself, doesn’t care a lot about her former stepmother. 

She does and she knows that she always will.

She realizes, as she starts slowly following after Emma, that there’s very little she won’t do to ensure that this unwanted adventure of theirs ends in their whole family - inclusive of Regina - finding its way back to Storybrooke. Maybe then, finally, they can start over and do better.

All of them.

“Drink this,” Henry says, his voice soft and shaky as he dips the waterskin back towards her mouth. His hands are unsteady and much of the liquid splashes against her bruised cheeks as he tries to get his mother to accept this small comfort. There’s little he can do for her besides this - the most medical aide that Pan had supplied had been to remove an arrow from her left thigh. Infection seems likely absent any further first aide, but if Regina is feeling the effects of her ordeal, she isn’t letting her son see it. Instead, she lifts her head slightly and accepts the water gratefully.

But only for a few seconds. “I’m okay,” she rasps. “You need…you need to get out of here.”

Ignoring her suggestion to abandon her, he instead observes, “You don’t look okay.”

“I’ve been through worse,” she assures him, and thinks of two days of torture which she hasn’t even really begun to properly recover from. Her hands shake and she’s uncertain if it’s from the aftermath of electrocution or the new wounds that she’s incurred. She knows that she isn’t right - her magic, while usable, is erratic and hardly a match for Pan and his stolen pixie dust.

But still, she’d tried.

She’d made his Lost Boys hunt her for hours, used every survival skill she’d ever been taught by her father, every kind of deception that her teachers had ever shown her, and every ounce of cunning that her mother had gifted her with to evade them until exhaustion and pain had finally overtaken her and she’d gotten sloppy. Then and only then had the little bastards caught up to her, the first burying an arrow in her thigh and the others using sticks and fists to bring her down. Her shoulder hurts worst of all, and she imagines that it’s probably dislocated. But well, she muses, it’s not like she’s going to be fighting these little sociopaths off with weapons.

To be fair, right now, it sure seems like she won’t be fighting them off at all.

This probably wasn’t her best plan, all things considered. But really, she hadn’t been thinking when the chance had come to try to negotiate for Henry’s release. In a more clear-headed mindset, she would have ensured his safety before handing herself over, but she’d been scared and desperate and so very, very tired, and now both she and Henry are paying for that.

Still, she has a secret weapon. Okay, not exactly secret - Pan knows that the Charming family is on their way. But what he doesn’t know is just how powerful Emma actually is. He might be able to sense the magic within her (though it seems as though most of Pan’s magic is stolen as opposed to organic in any way so it’s possible he can’t really read Emma as well as he might like to pretend that he does), but he has no idea that what she has within her far exceeds even the spectacular abilities of the Evil Queen at her peak. What Emma is capable of is unique because normally, it takes the darkest of magic to bring about raw power like she has, but she’s different and not just because she’s the child of Enchanted Forest True Love royalty.

No, she’s different precisely because she’s Emma Swan.

Her life, her humanity, her struggles and triumphs and her brilliant heart are her power. 

“I’m here, Mom,” Henry says, gently. “It’s gonna be okay.”

She smiles up lazily at him, blinks tiredly as consciousness fades and mumbles, “I love you.”

She thinks she hears him say it back to her, and really, that’s enough.

“Why do we keep ending up here?” Emma asks as she approaches the fire-pit, her eyes on the hunched over form of the Queen as she warms her hands by the flames. Her head is ducked, her not quite combed hair curtaining her face. As Emma nears her, she notices that the clothes Regina is wearing look torn and bloodied. A strange thing to notice within a dream, she thinks. "Why do you keep bringing us here?"

“I suppose it’s as safe as place as any,” Regina sighs and looks up at her. She smiles grimly at the physically shocked way Emma startles at what she sees, coolly acknowledging the bloody cuts on her face and the bruises circling her eyes. “I’ve looked better,” she deadpans. 

“What the hell happened to you?” Emma demands, crossing over to the pit. Before she can even really think about what she’s doing, her hands lift and she’s touching Regina’s face gently, fingers probing wounds that aren’t actually there within the dream. But they’re there in reality and that fact chills Emma to the bone because Regina is strong and tough and hard to take down and the woman in front of her looks like she’s gone ten rounds with a heavyweight boxer.

“Pan likes his stupid games,” Regina mutters, stepping back and away from Emma.

“How banged up are you?”

“Mostly bruises though I have a hole in my leg and my left shoulder is…not quite right.”

‘What does that mean? A hole in your leg? Not quite right? Regina -“

Regina cuts in sharply, “We don’t have time for this.”

“You’re hurt, and you were hurt before you handed yourself over to Pan -"

“Yes, and wasting time explaining every injury doesn’t change that.”

“But getting to you does.”

“Your focus has to be on Henry. He needs you.”

“It is. It’s also on you. I’m not leaving you behind, Regina. I’m not.”

“Because we…because of the...what we...what I did? Because, Swan, if that’s why -“

“No, not just because of that,” Emma interrupts. “Because you’re Henry’s mother and…” she frowns. “I’m not.”

“Not what? His mother? Of course, you are. He needs you to be that. I need you to be that.”

“No, not that. I mean, I’m not refusing to leave you behind just because of the kisses.”

“Maybe not just because; you are a hero, after all. And heroes aren’t exactly well known for making wise, life-saving choices when it comes to their enemies.”

“We’re not enemies, anymore.”

“I’m still the Evil Queen.”

“Not to me. Look, we can argue about this all day, but I think we both know there isn’t time for it. You brought us both here for a reason. What is it? How can I help?”

“Accept your magic.”

“What?”

“We may have only had a few lessons, but you have so much inside just waiting to rise to the surface. The power inside of you is extraordinary. You’re our salvation.”

“Sounds a whole lot like being the Savior. Again,” Emma says, dryly.

“Unfortunately, I don’t think you get to escape your calling anymore than I ever have mine.”

“I don’t accept that. I make my own choices and choose my own destiny.”

“It’s a nice thought,” Regina says almost wistfully. 

“No reason we can’t do that together.”

Regina’s eyebrow jumps. “You’re putting the cart before the horse, don’t you think?”

Emma laughs. “I wasn’t suggesting that -“

“Ah.” Her face shadows as her perceived rejection seems to land hard on her.

Something that Emma finds she isn’t okay. Taking a step towards Regina, her hand out, “Wait…can we maybe deal with all of those questions when we get back home?”

Regina hums noncommittally, then changes the subject. “Remember, when the time comes, the only thing you need to focus your magic on is who you want to save.”

“You’re saying be intentional.”

“I am. Magic is emotion; don’t hold yours back when it matters. Every bit of love you feel, let it out and you’ll have more power than Pan can even begin to imagine.”

“Got it.”

“Save our boy,” Regina says once more and then starts to stand.

“Hey, do me a favor, okay?”

Regina chuckles. “I’m not in the best position - or shape - for favors in case you hadn’t noticed.” She gestures towards her face, the bruises on her cheeks vivid.

“I know, and that’s the favor: don’t piss off the bad guys for once.”

“I am the bad guy,” Regina deadpans

“Not as far as me - or our kid - is concerned” And then she’s the one standing up and walking away. Refusing to allow Regina to argue with her. She has no illusions as to how Regina sees herself because for most of their history, she’s seen the Queen in much the same way: as a monster, as a villain and as someone who needed to be stopped. But times have changed and much of the animosity that had existed between them has been rendered meaningless due to their mutual love for their son. That’s the gift that Henry is to both of them - a uniquely common bond of affection which has helped them to see each other in a different way entirely.  That there appears to be something even more than that - something deep and meaningful just between the two of them - is curious and alarming in equal measure, but they don’t have to worry about that right now. Once they’re back in Storybrooke and Henry is safe in his own bed again, they can figure out if those shared kisses mean anything.

And if they do…then what?

Not now, though.

Right now, there’s still a job to do.

Right now, there’s a mother and son to rescue and Emma has no intention of failing her family.

And -

“Snow!”

She blinks, looking around in confusion, uncertain as to why she’s hearing her father’s voice inside of the dreamscape that Regina had created for them. She suddenly feels a hand on her shoulder (warm, strong, the grip hard and determined), shaking her and -

— abruptly, she tears herself from the dream, sitting up on her bedroll and looking up into the wide, alarmed eyes of her father. There’s blood running down his cheek from a jagged cut in his hairline. “They took your mother,” he babbles, his words running together almost incoherently. 

A hand weaves through her hair as she struggles to orient herself to being outside of the dream and back in the dark reality that is Neverland. “Dad…what…who…what?”

“The Lost Boys took Snow,” Hook says from above her, Tink at his side. His sword is drawn, and Emma notes blood running down his arm and onto his fingers from an ugly looking wound in his right shoulder. It shouldn’t - because honestly, all things shouldn’t circle back to her (except they do) - but it reminds Emma of Regina saying that her own shoulder isn’t quite right. 

“Why?”

“Pan likes his games,” Tink notes, unknowingly echoing Regina's previous statement. “And what better game than to pit the Evil Queen -“

“Against Snow White,” Emma finishes, her mind a mess of noise as she contemplates just how much worse this adventure can get for them. “This is all about Henry.”

“I don’t understand,” David protests. “What does any of this have to do with Henry?”

Emma looks at Hook. “Regina confirmed what you said earlier: she thinks Pan wants Henry to attack her and hurt her so that they can turn him into - I guess - a Lost Boy.”

“As he does,” Hook admits with a weary sigh.

“Wait; when did Regina tell you that?” David asks, brow furrowing. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Emma answers, not willing to divulge the intimacy of the shared dreamscape. She barely understands it emotionally or intellectually - hasn’t even begun to have a chance to absorb what it means or how Regina is making it happen - but she knows instinctively that her father (simple, good, uncomplicated) would most certainly be uncomfortable with such a connection. “What matters is that we know what Pan is planning. He’s going to use the animosity between Mary-Margaret and Regina to force a confrontation. He’s going to try to force Henry to hurt Regina to -“

“Defend Snow,” David finishes, dully, horror reflecting in his blue eyes as he finally gets it.

“Which would bind the boy to Pan,” Hook explains. He looks over at Tink. “He’s the one.”

“The one?” Emma questions, head tilted.

“One of Neverland’s oldest prophecies talks about a Boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer. Neverland entirely exists on the concept of belief, but Pan’s cynicism and wickedness have changed this place into something it was never meant to be. It has corrupted it and now, the magic within Skull Rock - and Neverland, itself - is withering and dying and with it, Pan’s control and life energy are fading,” Tink explains. “In order for him to survive what he’s done to this place, he needs true faith and belief again. He needs what we all need: hope.”

“Which Henry has in abundance,” Emma notes.

“I still don’t understand,” David declares. “If Henry hurts Regina, wouldn’t that tarnish his hope? Wouldn’t that make his faith and belief less? How does that help Pan?”

“Once he becomes a Lost Boy, he gains a different kind of belief. One committed to Pan and Neverland. He will become the Truest Believer of a different type,” Tink states.

“Dammit,” Emma growls. “We need to get to them. No more resting. We go now.” And then she’s up and on her feet, pulling her shoes on and grabbing her sword. Readying herself for a battle which could end up in the terrible, painful loss of everyone she loves. She turns to the others, eyes wide with panic, “I’ll go alone if I have to -“

“You’re not alone, Swan,” Hook promises. “We’re with you.” Tink nods in agreement.

“You already know where I stand,” David reminds her. “I’m always with you.”

Grim, determined, focused, Emma lifts her chin and says, “Good; now let’s go save our family.”

Snow knows from the moment she sees Regina what they’re going to do. Because she and Regina aren’t good, but they’re not as bad as they’ve been before and maybe there’s even hope for something better if they can get the hell off of this terrible island.  Unfortunately, the madness she sees in Regina’s turbulently dark eyes, well, it’s both familiar and not at all so. She remembers the Regina that she’d grown up with and the one who had hunted her for years. That one had been struggling with deep unchecked mental illness and all-consuming grief that had never been given space to heal. This one looks drugged and agitated and completely out of it. Her eyes are wide and her muscles are rigid and tense. Like she’s anticipating some kind of incoming attack and like she’s uncertain maybe who she even is.

And she looks hurt - Snow notes the awkward angle of Regina’s shoulder as well as her barely treated leg, a sloppy, bloody bandage looped around it. Like she needs more pain.  “What did you give her?” Snow demands, her eyes flickering over until she finds Henry’s.

He’s scared, she knows. Scared of what the mother he loves - in spite of their troubled last few years - is going to be forced to do. He doesn’t understand things like this, not really, but he can see that something is wrong with Regina. He can see that she’s not aware of her surroundings. 

Or even that he’s there which is probably the most alarming thing of all.

“Hm? Oh,” Pan chuckles. “Well, she was in pain from the arrow in her leg; Little Thump got her from a hundred paces he's really gotten good at his bow-work.” He nods his head like he’s just some kind of harmless proud papa, but there’s a dangerous glint in his eyes - pure evil malice, Snow thinks.

“So you gave her painkillers,” Snow presses, even though she knows he didn’t. At least not painkillers in the way most people think of them.

“Sure,” Pan agrees with a smirk. “She feels right as rain. Batshit crazy, though so I'd watch out for that."

“Mom,” Henry calls out to her. “It’s okay, Mom; we’re here. It’s going to be okay.”

If Regina hears him, she shows no real sign of it. Instead, she’s blinking furiously, her hands clenching and unclenching almost spastically as post-electrocution tremors continue to rocket through her exhausted and wounded body. Every now and again, her tired face contorts into something that looks vaguely angry before an equally puzzling expression of confusion falls across her normally attractive features and she just seems bewildered by her surroundings. 

“So how is this going to go?” Snow asks, intuitively. “Will you have her try to kill me?”

Pan grins. “Isn’t that the story? The Evil Queen and Snow White locked in an eternal battle to the death? That is until one of you succeeds and the other feeds Neverland.”

“No!” Henry cries out, realization of just how badly this could go hitting him hard.

“I won’t hurt her,” Snow declares.

“To survive, you’ll have no choice but to.”

“I won’t.”

He shrugs his shoulders, looking almost bored by her valiant protests. “It’ll be a disappointing fight if you just let her slaughter you where you stand, but if that’s how you want to play this, I really don’t care. In the end, I get what I want out of this.”

“Which is what?”

“You’ll see. Or…maybe you won’t if you’re dead.” He turns to two of his older Lost Boys and nods, “Hold the boy; his turn will come but not yet.” They obey immediately, grabbing Henry even as he struggles against them. Then, to Regina, he says, “Your enemy is in front of you.”

“My enemy?” Regina repeats, that same odd confusion draped over her. 

Pan whispers in her ear. “Snow White. The bitch responsible for the misery that is your life. She took your first True Love and…” he smirks. “She’ll take your second, too.”  

“What are you talking about?” Snow demands.

“Don’t you know?” Pan queries, turning back to face Snow. “That your long-lost little girl and the woman responsible for you losing her for so long have been…getting physically closer.”

Snow’s eyes narrow. “Meaning what?”

“I hoped you’d ask.” He reaches into his pocket, extracts a pinch of stolen fairy dust and tosses it into the air. It forms into a purple and teal cloud at first and then slowly, images begin to appear. Images of Emma and Regina in the middle of the darkened woods together.

An image of Regina kissing Emma.

Snow blinks in surprise. Her eyes flicker towards Henry, and she takes in the way his brow furrows in confusion. He’s just a little boy and knows so very little about romance and the complications of relationships and he probably doesn’t particularly understand same-sex relationships being that he’s been exposed to very few of them at his age. Honestly, it’s hard to figure out what he’s thinking, but his uncertainty is obvious. Snow feels like she can relate.

Though, if she’s honest, part of her thinks she should have seen this coming - as Mary Margaret, she’d often wondered if the mayor and her roommate were taking out their constant aggression on each other is decidedly more…private ways. Emma had never said anything and as Snow, she suspects not, but she’d be lying were she to claim that this is entirely shocking.

“She plans to take your daughter away from you again; to turn her against you,” Pan insists.

“That’s a lie!” Henry calls out.

Pan’s gaze darts to the two boys holding Henry and they get the message that - for now, at least - they’re to keep Henry quiet. One immediately seals his hand over Henry’s mouth and jerks him backwards, causing the boy to yelp in pained protest. To Snow, Pan continues, “You know it isn’t. How many things has she taken away from you over the years? She took your husband, your daughter, your father, your kingdom, your home and then your memories.”

Snow’s eyes close as the truth of his words sweeps over her. That all of those things - and Regina’s involvement in them - is far more complicated than Pan is suggesting is something she reminds herself of. Certainly, the Evil Queen has done significant harm to her over the years, but she has never stopped believing in the woman beneath the madness. She has always held strong to her faith that somewhere, perhaps deep down, is the real Regina.

The Regina who, a very long time ago, had bravely saved a scared girl from a runaway horse. So lost in her always messy and complicated thoughts about her turbulent past with Regina is Snow that she doesn’t even notice Pan lean towards Regina and whisper, “Kill Snow White.”

It’s Henry’s muffled scream that gets her attention and makes her open her eyes just seconds before a potentially deadly blast of red-hot magic screeches its way towards her chest. With a cry, she rolls out of the way, allowing the energy to slam forcefully into a nearby tree, a massive whole forming in the middle of it. Eyes wide with shock, Snow looks from the tree to Regina. As she finally understands the terrible, heart-wrenching situation she’s been thrown into. The life-or-death fight she’s going to have to engage in to walk away from this awful scenario. “So this is your overall plan?” Snow demands from the ground. “To force her to kill again?”

“I really don’t care who lives or dies,” Pan shrugs. “I just want a good show.”

His words are followed by another blast of energy from Regina’s hands, equally red-hot. But Snow - always a better hunter than Regina, and always skilled at noticing the small details that Regina sometimes doesn’t see, clocks something strange in the way that Regina is attacking her. Namely that Regina appears to glow - her skin almost translucent - every time she fires a blast of pulsating red at her oldest enemy. Snow isn’t entirely (and absolutely) sure what that means, but quickly, she considers what she knows: Regina has very recently been through two massive, terrible physical traumas - one which had involved two brutal days of torture thanks to Pan’s minions and the other which had depleted her. Add to that her lack of a heart in her chest as well as the the suicidal behavior she’s been showing and Snow has a terrible theory.

One that suggests that what Regina is using to attack her is her life-force.

“Regina,” she pleads as she ducks another blast. “You don’t want to do this.”

“You’ll never take another person from me,” Regina states, but there’s a curious lack of emotion in her voice - neither anger nor heartbreak. Her hand lifts, her normally dark eyes glowing as brightly as the fire now cupped in her palms. “When you’re dead, I’ll finally be free.”

“This isn’t freedom and deep down, you know it,” Snow insists. “This is playing Pan’s game.” 

Regina ignores her, throwing another blast and carving up yet another tree.

The worst part is, though, Regina is boxing her into a small area and she’s rapidly running out of space to evade the murderous queen. Which means her only way of surviving will be to fight back and figure out how to incapacitate Regina hopefully long enough for her family to arrive.

Their family, she amends, thinking about Emma and the curiously growing relationship between her daughter and Regina (a relationship she thinks she should be far more bothered by than she is and yet… yet, she isn’t, weirdly). And they will arrive, she believes - she has full faith in that. But that only works if they can both survive until help arrives - which means fighting back.

She looks over at Henry, smiles to reassure him, and then ducking her head, she suddenly charges Regina, colliding with her knees and taking her down to the ground, her dislocated shoulder jarring violently, causing the older woman to whimper. The moment Regina is down, Snow lowers her hand and rams her thumb deep into the arrow wound, wincing when the Queen howls in pain so sharp that she almost sounds like a wounded animal. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I don’t want to do this.”

Regina doesn’t respond to her apology, just tries to struggle free, uncoordinated and without the usual grace that has always been her calling card even in her darkest of times. Absently, as they both roll around, awkwardly wrestling for control, Snow is aware that they must look absolutely ridiculously like this. Fighting like school kids on a yard. Not that there’s much she can do to stop things as long as Regina is as out of her fucking mind as she is.

She feels nails rake down her face, blood dripping down from the new cuts even as she shoves her thumb in deeper. She thinks about all of her training in the woods and the many difficult ways that she’d learned to survive. Those days might be three decades in the actual past, but in her mind, they’re far more recent. She recalls having to fight for every moment and every day - having to make hard life-or-death choices and having to live like the outcast she’d become. 

“Do you think she’ll kill your daughter when she’s done seducing her?” Pan wonders. “Like she did the Huntsman?” He reacts to Snow’s head jerking up in surprise. “Oh, would you like to see? My dust can show you anything you’d like. Perhaps how she murdered your father?”

Snow doesn’t think - she just reacts; her fist pulls back and then she’s popping Regina across the jaw. At first, her mind doesn’t register the loud crack she hears as bone meets bone, but then Regina is howling in an inhumane way and blood is spurting from a newly created wound.

And Henry is screaming, “No!” Desperate, terrified, frantic. His whole world collapsing. 

It’s enough to bring Snow back to her senses with a start and then she’s rolling away.

“No,” Pan hisses, rage in his eyes. “If you stop now, I’ll slaughter you both.”

“Then do it,” Snow announces, lifting her chin. “I won’t hurt her more than I already have. This ends here and now."

“No, no it doesn't. She hurt you,” Pan reminds her, furious. “She’s the villain of your story.”

“There’s plenty of hurt to go around,” Snow contests and then she’s crawling - in the mud - over to where Regina is and pulling the wounded woman into her lap, gently cradling her. “I’ve got you,” she says. “We’re going to get out of this and then have a very long talk, you and I.”

“You’d really let her fuck your daughter and steal her from you?”

Snow glances over at Henry, seeing the confusion on his face again. Understandably, he’s struggling to wrap his mind around the idea of his two mothers having any kind of romantic relationship, but he’s a young child who doesn’t understand how love is actually seldom like what she and Charming have (and even what they have has been full of blood, pain and trial).  But she knows that he desperately loves both of his mothers - just as much as she, herself, does, she realizes.

And she won’t choose their destiny for them. She figures she’s done enough of that for a lifetime.

Maybe multiple lifetimes.

“Emma makes her own choices. I may not always approve, but it’s not my life, and I won’t control hers. If she wants to love Regina, who am I to stand in the way of that?”

“How very motherly,” Pan chides, smirking like he knows something she doesn’t - like he’s laughing at a joke only he knows. “I wonder if our dear Savior will feel that way when she comes across your body thanks to her would-be-lover. Finish the job, Your Majesty.” And then he’s throwing more dust at Regina, the colors attacking her and making her whimper in pain. When it’s over, she’s pulling away from Snow, her skin again glowing.

Almost like she’s about to go supernova, and suddenly Snow knows without a doubt that she’s about to die at the hands of the woman who had once - long ago - taught her about both love and hatred. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but there’s nowhere to hide from the incoming implosion.

“Henry,” she whispers. “Close your eyes, baby. Think good thoughts.”

Because the blast - she knows - could very easily kill him as well. And well, if that’s true, then it’s a damn good thing that it will certainly kill Regina because heart or no heart, she won’t be able to live with what she’s about to do to her beloved son.

“Mom, no,” Henry cries out. “Please. Remember who you are. Remember who I am.”

“She can’t remember  you - or herself - Henry; I own the Queen body and soul.” He leans over her shoulder, drawing a finger across the torn cloth of her shirt, delighting in how she doesn’t flinch away from his control, utterly strung up by it. “End it, Regina. Have your vengeance.”

Regina doesn’t respond verbally, but her hands glow brighter, red and chaotic.

Snow takes a deep, shaky breath, closes her eyes and waits for the inevitable, impending end.

One minute, she’s aggressively hiking her way through thick underbrush, hacking away at it and then suddenly she’s freezing and wobbling in place before finally folding to her knees, her eyes going white as she seems to stare sightlessly ahead, utterly unaware of her surroundings.

Aware only of the fact that she’s back at the campfire with a now bloodied Regina.

“It’s getting worse,” Emma realizes as she surges towards Regina.

“It is,” the Queen admits, darkly. “I’m about to be dead if you don’t hurry.”

“No -“

“Emma, listen: Pan has control of me. He’s using dust stolen from Tink and I can’t break free. I’m not strong enough without my heart in my chest. I’m not my mother.”

“That’s a good thing.”

“Right now, I’m not sure that it is.”

“It always is,” Emma insists. 

“No force in any realm could have made my mother kill if she didn’t want to,” Regina insists. 

“I don’t think any force needed to make your mother do what she was happy to do, anyway."

“No, I suppose not, but...Pan has control of me, and he’s about to make me explode.”

“Explode?” Emma echoes, wincing at her dumb to her own ears she sounds.

“My magic…is messy, but it’s still strong and he’s turning me into a bomb. I’m about to explode and if I do, I’ll take Snow and Henry with me. You can’t allow that."

“I won’t. We’re not far, okay? Just hold on.”

“Move faster,” Regina says as she steps back, fading slightly. “I can’t…Emma, please.”

“Okay, okay.”

“And Emma, when you get here? Don’t hesitate to do what you have to do.”

“What does that mean?”

“You know,” Regina insists and then she’s surging forward and kissing Emma. It’s only a dream but Emma could swear that she can feels tears on her cheeks as the kiss deepens. As soft lips become tongues and teeth and hands reacting for and gripping each other as if holding on.

As if…

As if letting go, Emma realizes with a pang of shock and fear. That’s what this moment is: goodbye before surrendering. Breaking away, Emma protests. “Regina, no…”

“We came here to save Henry; as long as he makes it home, I’m okay with my fate.”

“I’m not.”

“You will be,” Regina promises her, and then she’s lifting her thumb up and gently wiping away lipstick that only exists within this strange dreamscape that they’ve forged. “We both have to go now, but before we do, I need you to know that your willingness to see me as more than a monster, to offer me a chance to be more than that and to try to give me hope that I could one day be happy again…well, you are a very special woman, Emma Swan. No matter whatever else happens, don’t you ever let anyone take that from you - especially someone like me.”

“Regina -“

“If I was capable of love -“

“You are,” Emma insists, stepping close enough to touch her once again. “I believe in you.”

Regina smiles sadly at her, her hand reaching up to gently stroke Emma’s cheek, fingers trailing against pale skin, each pattern seeming to burn itself into her flesh in a way that feels a bit like a tattoo. “Then let this be how I prove you right; my life for my son, for Snow and for you.”

And then she’s vanishing, leaving Emma alone in the dreamscape, the flames from the fire-pit behind her still licking the air. Overcome with emotion, but thoughtful as she gazes at the flickering orange fingers as they crackle and burn, Emma down looks at her hands.

And understands exactly what she needs to do to save her entire family.

Snow White is prepared to die.

Blood on her face, scratches on her knuckles, she thinks of David and Emma and wonders when she’ll get to see them again. How long it will take for them to all reunite in the Underworld. How much life will pass them all by before they're able to be together again?

She hears Pan order the Queen to just, “Do it.”

And waits for the blast to come, wondering how painful it will be.

Will the fire tear her flesh from the bone or will it incinerate her instantly? Will she know she’s dying or will it just be over?

“Now,” Pain demands again and her eyes open. Because she’s still alive and Regina is still standing across from her, glowing.

But not throwing the deadly fire.

“Mom,” Henry whispers. “I love you. I love you so much. I believe in you.”

Regina’s head turns, uncertainty showing on her face as he unwittingly echoes words that Emma had just said to him within the dreamscape. “Henry?” She sounds confused.

“No,” Pan growls. “You only hear me. You follow my orders alone.” His hand reaches into the bag at his side, as if he’s intending to grab for more of his stolen dust.

“It’s not working, is it?” Snow taunts. “Her love for her son will always win out.”

“She can’t love - especially without a heart in her chest.”

"Oh, you don't know Regina at all," Snow taunts, smiling almost ear-to-ear. She feels a bit mad, but she also believes she isn't wrong. She can't be.

"Oh, but I do. She and I, we're the same demon."

“No, she's more than you,” Henry growls. “She loves me and always will no matter what you or anyone else ever does to her."

“She wiped your memories, Henry,” Pan snaps. “Would you like me to show you?”

“I don’t care.”

Angered, Pan throws dust in the air and then they’re all watching Regina’s attempt to convince Henry to love her and the memory wipe she’d done to get him to forget. 

Henry announces once again, “I don’t care; she loves me. When it mattered, she put me first.”

“Enough of this; kill them, Regina,” Pan growls. “Or I’ll kill you where you stand.”

Regina suddenly turns, eyes and body still glowing as she vibrates. “Then do it.”

“As you wish,” he states and then he’s jerking towards her, a knife in his hands.

It’s Henry breaking away from his guards and slamming into him that stops him. It’s Henry who probably saves her from getting gutted.

At least for the moment.

Snow doesn’t hesitate; she throws an elbow into the exposed throat of the nearest boy, grabs his knife and then shoves it up against his larynx. “I’ll kill him,” she promises. 

Shoving a now bruised up Henry away from him, Pan turns to Snow, sneering at she see the small brunette holding one of his best lieutenants at knife-point. “You won’t.”

“Because I’m a hero?”

He laughs. “Because you’re Snow White and you can’t even kill your greatest enemy.”

Behind him, Henry crawls to his mother and curls against her, arms around her even as she bleeds. He feels her body sag, her energy rapidly depleting as the last few days and weeks catch up to her and she crumbles. Were she in her right mind, she’d never allows this, but she’s been through too much and without her heart, she’s missing so very much even as she somehow - inexplicably - retains what matters most: her ability to love her beautiful boy.

“You’re right,” Snow concurs as she moves to stand over Regina and Henry, offering them protection. “I can’t kill her. Because for better or for worse, she’s my family and I love her and always will. No matter what's between us, I will always love her.” She looks right at Regina when she says this, hoping she's being heard.

“She’s a monster,” Pan reminds her. His eyes are wild and he seems like he can’t quite understand how this plan of his seems to be unraveling at the speed that it is.

“You’re one to talk,” a cold voice says from behind them, and then Pan is suddenly getting flung across the camp, his back slamming into one of the overgrown trees.

“Emma!” Snow calls out, her face breaking out into an expression of joy and relief.

“Hey, Mom; calvary is here,” Emma cheeks, both hands up. It’s remarkable, really; just a few days ago, she'd barely been able to lift a leaf and now she’s tossing Pan around like a rag doll and she’s fairly certain she can feel warmth in her fingers. Like maybe there’s fire in her palms just waiting to be brought to the surface.  

“Right on time,” Snow quips. To Tink, she says, “She needs her heart back.”

“On it,” Tink agrees, surging towards Regina and Henry.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Pan hisses, standing back up. As he does, several of his hooligans circle around to provide him with deadly back-up, their weapons drawn, their faces masks of fury. “I knew I should have slaughtered you years ago,” he tells the fairy. “An oversight I will correct.”

“I’m done being afraid of you,” Tink tells him and then she’s kneeling next to Regina.

Pan surges forward, but both David and Hook move in the way, their swords crossed to prevent Pan from getting closer. Hook says, “Nuh uh, mate; you lose this one.”

“You know I won’t give up until I get what I want. I never lose.”

“This time you do,” Emma says, quietly. “This is my family; you can’t have them.”

And then she’s opening her hands up and blinding white light is filling the whole area. Were Regina within her own mind, she’d be impressed by the sheer force of Emma’s will. Magic is emotion and right now, Emma Swan is putting on a master class as to how to prove it. 

“Will this make her better?” Henry asks as Tink puts a hand on Regina’s shoulder. Snow hovers close, protectively.

“It’ll give her a chance,” Tink assures him and then she’s slamming Regina’s heart - still so dark, but will a brilliant core of red - back into the Queen’s wounded chest.

Regina gasps, a bright golden light in her eyes before she sags back. “Henry? Snow?"

“I’m here, Momma,” he assures her, arms tightening around her.

"We're here, Regina," Snow echoes. 

“What did I do?” Her hand lifts slightly, towards Snow. "What did I do?"

"Nothing that matters. I'm...we made it, Regina." It's a heavy, emotional sentence with so much history behind it, but her eyes are so open and honest and even hopeful.

Regina nods slowly. "Yeah." Her head falls back and she looks up at Henry. "Did I hurt you?"

He looks up, eyes clocking the way his other mother, his grandfather and Hook are standing up to Pan. “I'm okay. So are you. Everything is going to be okay, Mom."

“No, young Henry; it's not ever going to be 'okay' ever again. Not for any of you,” Pan growls, his voice sounding demonic. And then his own eyes are glowing as he allows centuries old magic to surge through him, corrupting him and turning him into the monstrous creature that has given him the ancient powers he possesses. 

“Holy shit,” Emma exclaims, eyes wide.

“Indeed, Miss Swan,” Rumple says as he appears behind her, causing her to jump.

“Holy shit,” she repeats.

He smirks. Then looks over at Pan. “Father.”

“This fucking family,” Emma mutters, even though she'd already known about the family tie.

Rumple ignores them. “It’s not been nearly long enough, Father. You’ve looked better.”

Pan, still looking disturbingly demonic, laughs. It’s a chilling sound that seems to rise like smoke towards the dark heavens above. “I should have known that you’d eventually show your face, m boy. Had enough of playing make-believe with my shadow?”

“I grow bored of your games,” Rumple shrugs. “And now, they’re over.”

“They end when I say they do. When the Queen is dead and Henry is mine.”

“That’s never going to happen,” Emma declares. 

“Because you love the Queen,” Pan taunts, giggling at the shock that shows on Charming and Hook’s faces. “You can’t believe her capable of returning that love.”

Emma glances over at Regina, still slumped in Henry’s arms. She says, “Whatever I feel for Regina doesn’t matter; all that does is that she’s my son’s other mother and we’re all going home.” She looks over at Rumple. “Any interest in frying this motherfucker?”

“An apt if wildly inappropriate choice of words,” Rumple notes, dryly. 

Emma shrugs unapologetically.

“All the same,” Rumple continues. “I’m more than ready.”

“Even together, you can’t hurt me,” Pan taunts.

“You're wrong,” Regina disputes from the ground and then inexplicably, before anyone can protest (and Henry is attempting to), she’s standing up, her hands out. 

“Regina,” Emma warns, a hand extending out towards her.

“It could kill you,” Rumple reminds her, seeming both impressed and utterly unbothered. 

“It will kill you,” Pan goads. “It’ll burn you from the inside out.”

“So be it.” And then she’s throwing every bit of energy she has into her blast, smiling tiredly as Emma and Rumple join her assault with magic of their own, the combined power monstrous.  Pan screams in agony, his body being torn apart by the spiky edges of the magic. It takes maybe half a minute - maybe slightly longer - and then all that’s left of him is his shadow.

“I’ve got this part,” Tink says, quietly and then she’s throwing dust into the air and watching blank-faced as the magic forms a cage around the squealing shadow, entrapping him within it. When it finally seals with a loud clank, the thing inside seems formless but still quite enraged. 

“Will that hold him?” Snow asks, frowning. She feels David’s arm slide around her, supporting her even as her strength fades. The tumble with Regina had been painful, exhausting and utterly draining and right now she wants little more than her bed and a weeks’ worth of sleep.

“For now,” Tink nods. “He’ll break free eventually, but…eventually could be three weeks or  hundreds of years from now.” She looks over at Regina, who is now leaning against the trunk of one of the trees that she’d blasted out, her color dismal as her energy hits critical levels and she struggles to stay conscious and upright, her body shuddering violently. To her right and left are shell-shocked teenagers, now free of Pan’s control and unsure what comes next. “It’s time to finally start living your life, Regina; let go of the past and the pain and just…live.”

And then she’s tossing another burst of dust into the air. 

To the rest of the group, she says with a bright smile, “Remember: think good thoughts and you’ll always find your way home .” She starts to rise into the air.

“Tink,” Hook calls out, taking a step towards her as if to stop her.

“We’ll catch each other when we do, Killian,” Tink promises. “Until then, sail free, my captain.”

And with that said, she’s gone, leaving the bewildered, still mildly shocked group behind her - the Savior, the Charmings, the Queen, Captain Hook, Rumplestilskin and the Lost Boys. And, of course, the Boy with the Heart of the Truest Believer.

Who wraps his arms around his mother now and assures her that he never gave up on her.

“I love you, my prince,” she whispers, even as her strength evaporates and she collapses. She feels stronger arms beneath her, catching her and settling her gently, kindly, even lovingly. A glance up even as her vision dims and she sees blond hair flashing in the Neverland moonlight.

“I know,” he tells her as he kneels beside her and Emma. “I’ve always known.”

“Good.” And then her eyes are rolling back.

“Mom? Mom?”

Emma gently slides her hand up to Regina’s pulse. “She’s just out-cold, Kid. We need to get her home and let her rest and then…everything is going to be okay. For all of us.” She leans forward and kisses him on the top of his head, holding her lips there as tears threaten to fall. 

As she struggles to keep her own turbulent emotions from overwhelming her.

They’ve won the battle - they’ve won the chance to start over as a family, but can they?

Her hand slipping up to gently, tenderly move hair away from Regina’s brow, she finds herself thinking that she’s perhaps never wished for anything more.

Chapter Text

“So is this how we’re going to have all of our conversations going forward?” Emma teases as she glances around the now terribly familiar camp-site. The fire is mostly out now, but she can still see warm embers there, glowing orange against the black of the charcoal and wood. "Because I wouldn't mind having some real conversations."

"It's all still real in here, Emma. Just...different."

“Okay, so if I call you an idiot in here, I'm doing it for real?"

Regina scowls. "We all survived, didn't we?"

“No thanks to you. What the hell were you thinking handing yourself over to him?”

“Didn’t you already yell at me for that?”

“I figure we have a lifetime for me to yell at you about what a reckless fool you are.”

“A lifetime?” Regina questions, her eyebrow up. She feels a curious warmth forming in the middle of her chest - something that feels a whole lot like hope. It's equal parts terrifying and exhilarating and she finds herself retreating at the same time as she's stepping forward, eyes bright with possibilities she'd never considered.

“I mean…” Emma frowns. “Look, there’s obviously something between us, right?”

“Doesn’t have to be if you don’t want there to be. We can forget -“

“Maybe I don’t want to.”

“Because you’re still high from the adventure. When you come to your senses -“

“My mother knows about us.”

Regina’s brow furrows. “I can’t imagine she’s pleased with that.”

“Honestly? I think Hook is more upset than she is.”

“Seriously?”

“Sure. My mom loves you and always will."

“She understands I’m not into her like that, right?”

Emma laughs, the sound clear and bright in a way that Regina envies even as she quietly vows to herself that she won't allow anything to take away Emma's ability to still find humor and joy after all the dirtiness that life has tossed her way. “God, I hope so otherwise things could get weird. Wait, so you actually are into me like that?”

“Does that repulse you?”

“I thought we’d established that it doesn’t.”

Regina hums noncommittally.

“Let me guess: you think I’m only interested in you because of whatever we just went through.”

“Trauma can create connections that probably shouldn’t exist.”

Emma nods, retreating slightly. “Okay.”

Regina smiles almost sadly as she assumes she's effectively pushed yet another person away. “I’ll see you on the other side, Miss Swan.”

“Sure.” Emma looks over at the fire. “You did it, you know?”

“What’s that?”

“Taught me how to use magic to protect the people I love the most.”

“I’m glad you didn’t lose your family; I’ve taken away enough from you.”

“Yeah, I’m glad I didn’t lose you, either.” And then she’s disappearing into the shadows as she’s watched Regina do a half dozen times over the last week or so. A dramatic exit for sure, but she’d said what she’d needed to say.

Now, it’s Regina’s turn to figure out what the next step is for herself and for them.

Rumple heals up most of Regina’s injuries - the ones he can, anyway (her shoulder - relocated now thanks to David and Emma - is sensitive and will need time to heal and gain back full mobility and until it does, she will need to wear a sling - something she’s quite vocally displeased about). He’s quick to remind her (and everyone listening) that she needs to rest and recover from her now multiple life and death ordeals and if she keeps pushing herself, there might come a time when no one is able to save her. 

She says nothing in response to that, just stares ahead at the water as the Jolly Roger continues to drift towards the thinnest area between the realms; while they lack another bean, they have enough fairy dust to be able to exploit the weakness and hopefully get back home.

In theory.

If this admittedly insane plan doesn’t work, well, Snow reminds them that most of the group has experience living in lands like this and could do it again if they absolutely had to.That’s not something Emma really wants to consider. Right now, she has her heart pretty much set on a massive bacon cheeseburger and fries drenched in ketchup and ranch. And a milkshake.- preferably a cookies and cream one with a massive heaping of whipped cream atop it.

“You’re worried,” Snow says as she comes up beside Emma, who is standing at the rail looking out, having taken Regina’s place there after the brunette had gone back below. "About Regina or Henry or about other things?"

“All of the above,” Emma admits, but doesn’t elaborate.

Snow smiles slightly, waits a few moments, then ventures, “So you and Regina?”

Emma turns her head. “Me and Regina what?”

“Pan…told me - well, really he showed me - about…the two of you.”

“I know,” Emma nods. She tilts her head. "Wait...what exactly did he show you? I mean I know he told you, but..."

“He showed me the kiss you two shared.”

“Oh. That. Right. It wasn't the only - yeah. Yeah."

“You know,” Snow starts, a slight lilt to her tone, a kind of amused curiosity. “I figured if anything was going to happen between you and…anyone, it’d be you and Hook.”

“God, no,” Emma laughs. “I don't know how many people I have to tell this before everyone gets it: he isn’t…he’s not my type. He really, really isn't."

Snow smiles knowingly at then, then plunges ahead with, “But Regina is…your type."

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re not actually saying much at all.”

Emma turns to face her mother. “There’s nothing to say; I promise. We had a moment because of all the magic and the emotion and…I don’t think it meant anything.”

Snow nods sagely, like she understands what she’s hearing. “You don’t or…she doesn’t?”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“I think we both know it isn’t. Are you interested in pursuing something with Regina?”

Emma thinks for half a second to tell the truth - to admit that she'd made the suggestion to Regina and been pushed back, but she doesn't want to sow discord between her mother and Regina right as they're finally starting to consider letting the past go and allowing everyone to move forward as a family. So, instead, she says, “Right now, the only thing I’m interested in is getting home and taking a long shower. And then eating something normal and very American."

“If you say so,” Snow grudgingly agrees. “But I am here if you’d like to talk…more about it.”

“I...appreciate that. I do,” Emma answers, smiling slightly, awkwardly. It would have been easier to have this conversation with her mousy roommate instead of her mother - the arch enemy of the woman she thinks that she might have feelings for. Mary-Margaret would have been dutifully scandalized, but also a good ear. She’d have listened without too much condemnation. Snow White? Well, who could blame her for not being supportive of…of what, exactly? Even though Regina had initiated the first kiss back on Neverland, now that they’re safely away from the island and hopefully on their way home, she sure seems disinterested in going further. In fact, she seems downright agitated and anxious about even the idea of there being more to them than that. Not that Emma is terribly shocked by that, but still, it’s not exactly a green light.

The question, then, is what - if anything - comes next for them? It wasn't a green light, but it wasn't exactly a firm red light, either so...

Turning her head, she glances over at the door to the crew cabin that she and Regina are once again sharing. While mostly healed thanks to Rumple (with the exception, obviously, of her sore shoulder), Regina is still pretty worn down (her hands are still a bit shaky) and desperately in need of rest. And besides, Henry is most certainly in there. Under his mother’s watchful eye. 

Or maybe Regina is under his.

Regardless, she thinks that’s probably where she should be as well.

“I’m going to go check on the kid,” she tells her own mother.

“Of course.” Snow steps out of the way to let Emma pass, speaking again once Emma is a few steps away. “For what it’s worth, if it makes you happy, that’s all I care about.”

Emma turns back. “Really? Because -“

“I know my history with Regina. Better than anyone ever will, I know what we’ve done to each other over the years. I know.” She considers her words briefly - thinking about Cora’s heart and Daniel and a ruby red apple -  before continuing with, “But I also believe that under all of that anger and hate has always been a lot of love. She wasn’t ever meant to be my mother, Emma, but I think in a better world, she might have been a sister. Maybe Storybrooke is that world.” 

“None of which equals being supportive of her and I together.”

“Do you want….is that what you want? A future with her?"

“I’m not sure what I want. Or what she wants.” Emma shrugs almost helplessly.

“Emotions are complicated. And Regina’s are…especially so.”

“Yeah,” Emma concurs. She gestures towards the door to the cabin. “I’m gonna -“

“Go check on them. I know. Have dinner with us in the mess later?”

“Wild horses,” Emma assures her and then in a fit of her own emotion, leans forward and tightly hugs her. 

“I love you,” Snow tells her, hugging her back just as tight.

“I know. I love you, too,” and then she’s heading towards the cabin, the door opening and closing quietly behind her as she goes to greet Regina and Henry.

“She’d hate this,” Henry says the moment Emma steps into the room. Her eyes sweep towards mother and son and she notices that Regina appears to be sleeping, face turned into the mattress, even as her body itself is angled forward so as to keep her sore shoulder from being further wrenched, the blue and white sling (Rumple had magicked it up) she’s wearing prominent, that half of her body resting atop a pillow.

“What’s that?” Emma queries as she approaches, her eyes tracking the rhythmic rise and fall of Regina’s chest. There’s a thin layer of sweat on her brow, but she seems okay.

More or less.

“Me watching over her like this. She hates when people worry about her.” He looks at Emma. “Why?”

“Your mom has been through a lot in her life - a few too many have tried to hurt her and strip her power away from her. Being hurt…I guess she probably sees it as being weak and if people are worried about her, then maybe she’s isn’t hiding her vulnerabilities as much as she wants to.”

“She doesn’t need to hide anything from me.”

“Adults don’t think that way, Kid. We…we try to protect those we love.”

“I know, but I just want her to be happy.”

“I think, maybe, she has a chance now.”

“Yeah.” He looks down at his mother, a thoughtful expression on his young features.

“Kid, what is it?”

“Did you know she wiped my memory? She told me what she was going to do all of you and I wasn’t….I rejected her.” He swallows hard when he says this, cheeks flushing.

“Hey,” Emma says as she sits beside him. “It’s okay. I think that might have hurt her a lot in the moment, but now…now, I think she’d tell you that you were right to do that. That person she becomes when she’s scared and defensive and in a corner, it’s not someone she wants to be.”

“Then…why?”

“Old habits die hard. Your mom survived her childhood and her marriage -“ Emma frowns slightly when she says this, hoping Henry won’t ask her too many questions about said marriage. Even she doesn’t know a lot about it - beyond what the storybook and her own mother has told her. Thing is, though, she doesn’t need to know a lot to see a lot and what she sees on Regina’s face whenever the subject of her husband comes up is something she’s seen a few dozen times too many: the fear and loathing of a survivor who never wanted to be one.

“Emma?” Henry presses.

“She survived, Henry,” Emma finishes. “Not always in the best of ways and that’s her burden to carry. She has to make peace with her past and how she survived.”

“Is that possible?”

“I think it is. She has you.”

“And you,” Henry says pointedly. His head tilts. “Did you two really…kiss?”

Emma’s eyebrow shoots up. “You saw that, too, huh?”

“Yeah. Pan was taunting Mom and Grams with it.”

“Prick,” Emma mutters, glancing over at Regina’s restlessly sleeping form. 

“I’m okay with you two,” Henry assures her, causing Emma to look back at him.

“You are? I kind of figured you’d be the last one to be on-board with her and I.”

“Because she’s the Evil Queen?”

“You know I’ve never seen her as that,” Emma reminds him.

“No, but I have. I really hurt her, didn’t I?”

“You two have a lot of healing to do. Apart and together. If that’s what you want.”

“I almost lost her today.”

“Yeah,” Emma agrees, just stopping herself from reaching down and brushing hair from Regina’s eyes. That the Queen is sleeping so heavily is concerning, but not surprising.

“Is she going to be okay?”

“We’ll make damn sure she is, Kid,” Emma promises him, moving to stand up.

“Can I stay with her?” Henry asks, seeming alarmed that he might be forced to leave.

Emma smiles. “Of course. I’ll be up-top if you need me.” She starts towards the door, stopped only by him saying her name in a low, barely audible voice. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs. “I really am okay with you two together.”

“One step at a time,” she reminds him. “First home. Everything after that.”

“I know,” he nods. “But…you two happy? That’s all I want. You know that, right?”

“What a coincidence,” Emma responds, leaning down and kissing him on the forehead, holding it there for a few seconds. “All your mom and I care about is you being happy.”

“I am,” he tells her, guileless and so very open and honest. “I have all of you. My whole family.”

“Yeah, Kid,” Emma says with a bright smile that meets her watery eyes. “Your whole family.”

They’re about half a day away from the thin area between the realms when Regina finally - reluctantly still wearing the sling) makes her way up to the deck. She’s moving slowly, gingerly, wincing at the bright, beaming sunlight, but she’s up and moving around and that means she’s a lot better than she was just a few days ago.

“Hey,” Emma greets, turning towards her and smiling far too widely and openly to be an easily dismissed expression. “Is it weird if I say, ‘welcome back, Sleeping Beauty?’”

“More like tacky,” Regina answers grouchily. “Especially considering.”

“Considering what?” Emma asks, already dreading the answer.

“Well, for a time, I was with Maleficent. And we killed Aurora’s prick of a father together.”

“There’s a lot to unpack in what you just said,” Emma teases as Regina approaches the rail and moves to stand next to the blonde. One glance over at the brunette and Emma is pleased to note that most of her coloring has returned to normal even if she looks downright exhausted.

“Mal and I had a decade long affair and Stefan was an asshole. Unpacked?”

“Uh…yes? No? I don’t know? Wait, you and Maleficent? Really?”

Regina smirks. “She taught me…a lot.”

“Oh,” Emma says, blushing slightly at the implication of Regina’s words.

Regina chuckles at that. Then, glancing towards the water. “How long until the border?”

“We’ll reach it in about six hours. Hook said it’ll either work or -“

“We’ll learn how to live without plumbing again,” Regina drawls. “This needs to work.”

“Can’t handle going with your ultra-ply?”

“I was thinking more about how I’d miss my walk-in shower. No matter how exorbitant bathrooms might be in this land, they’re nothing compared to what we have at home.”

“Such a Queen,” Emma teases.

“Always,” Regina shoots back before retreating slightly, seemingly bothered by her own words.

“Hey,” Emma says. “You being the Queen has never been the problem -“

“Hasn’t it? There’s a whole genre of fiction dedicated to how monstrously evil I am.”

“You made bad choices.”

“Obviously,” Regina drawls, in no real mood to be coddled.

“Now you’re making better ones. Ones that give you a chance for better things.”

“Do I have a right to better things?”

Emma shrugs. “Ask me that question next time we’re by a fire-pit.”

“Is that the only time we can be honest with each other? In our dreams?”

Emma gives her a bit of a self-depreciating half-smile. “Well, first, you created that place - even if don't really understand how. But also, you know me pretty well by now. You know I'm a bull in a china shop. I’m happy to be honest with you right now, but only if you’re ready for it.”

“Ready for what? I already know who and what I am, Emma; I don’t need you to tell me.”

“Seems to me you might, Your Majesty. You see, I know a little bit - actually, a lot - about looking in the mirror and seeing nothing there to be proud of.”

“We’re not the same,” Regina reminds her. “What I’ve done -“

“I know -“

“No, no you don’t and that’s my point. I’ve done unspeakable, unimaginable things. All in the name of anger and vengeance. I’ve hurt people - people we both cared about…”

“Graham.”

“You know what I did to him. You know, Emma.”

“I know,” Emma confirms. “But I also know that this woman in front of me isn’t that woman.”

“How can you be so sure? And even if you are, does it actually matter?”

“I think it does.”

“Because you’re attracted to me?

Emma chuckles. “No.”

“You’re not attracted to me?” Regina asks, and while she’s most certainly trying to play it cool, Emma’s fairly certain that she can hear a hint of disappointment.

Disappointment she doesn’t allow to last for very long. “I am,” Emma confirms with a slight smirk. “I really am, but that’s not why I think you changing matters.”

“Then tell me, because I don’t understand.”

“Maybe that’s why.”

“Are you actually trying to test my patience? Because I’d think by now you’d know better.”

“And I’d think by now you’d know how much I enjoy annoying you.”

Regina fixes her with her best unimpressed glare. “Explain yourself.”

“You really do love giving orders, don’t you, Your Majesty?”

“I do,” Regina answers dryly. “So do try obeying them now and again, Princess.”

“I think you’d hate it if I did.”

“Swan.”

Emma puts up her hands in surrender, knowing she’s pushed the patience of the Queen just about as far as she can get away with. “Okay, okay. Look, the reason I think you’re worthy of a second chance - of the chance to be better and seek redemption - is precisely because you don’t think you’re worthy. When you look in the mirror, what do you see looking back?”

Without hesitation: “A monster.”

Emma nods in understanding - after watching Regina for the last few weeks, there’s no other answer she’d have expected from her self-loathing co-mother. “I see a woman who has made terrible choices she felt like she had no other choice but to make - choices she’s going to have to figure out how to live with - but she sure as hell didn’t get there to those all on her own.”

“No, I didn’t,” Regina agrees. “But that doesn’t change that I made the choices.” She holds up her hands, palms up to Emma. “I have so much blood on me. Blood I put there.”

“So what do you think we should do with you? Arrest you? Try you? Lock you away forever?”

Regina shudders, thinking about how poorly she’d reacted to hearing the Charmings discuss imprisoning her in Rumple’s terrible cell or leaving her behind in Storybrooke.

“Yeah, didn’t think so. No, I think we can - and should - do better than that.”

“None of which means you - of all people - should be involved with me. Not like that, at least."

“Maybe we cross that bridge down the line. Right now, I think maybe I just want you to know that you’re not alone and that if really do want to start over, I have your back.”

“The town won’t accept me like you are.”

“You might be surprised. They’re fickle - in all directions and if my parents come out in support of giving you a second chance, they might grumble, but I get the feeling most of them have a little blood on their hands as well. The storybooks kind of gloss over a lot but -“

“My world pretty much sucked,” Regina admits with a weary sigh.

“Yeah. I’m not sure anyone from there is entirely innocent. I mean, Disney sure as shit didn’t mention what a bastard Stefan was. I think maybe everyone gets to start over.”

“And if I fail? If I fall back into the worst of myself? Self-control isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

“Maybe next time you think you’re going to, you come find me and we make ourselves a campfire to talk around. Or, if you need something…more…we can go drinking."

“You’re serious?”

“We didn’t start out very well, you and I -"

“I tried to kill you as a baby,” Regina deadpans.

“Okay, we started out really, really badly,” Emma laughs. “But when it comes to our relationship in Storybrooke,  I think there’s blame to share. I came in like my usual red-ass self and I think I hurt both you and the kid. That’s on me.”

“I didn’t make it easy on you.”

“No. So maybe now we can start over. Maybe try something…better.”

“You know this could fail spectacularly, right?”

“Could, but I’m gonna try on some of that Charming optimism,” Emma chirps.

Regina groans. “Please, don’t.”

“Admit it, you don’t always hate it.”

“I really do. Do you know how maddening it’s been to watch your mother always come out on the upside of everything? Even when I won, I still…lost.” 

“She didn’t give up on you,” Emma reminds her.

“I know,” Regina says softly, thoughtfully. “Your family…”

“Your family,” Emma insists. “And yeah, we’re all pains in the ass. As are you."

“Yes, I suppose so,”  Regina murmurs, eyes flickering up to gaze at the full moon.

“Have faith,” Emma suggests. “All of you fairytale people believe in stories, right?”

“You’re a fairytale person, too,” Regina reminds hers.

“For like five minutes.”

“Still counts, but go on.”

“Well, maybe your story is just getting started. Maybe all of ours are.”

“You really are a Charming, aren’t you?”

“More Swan than Charming, but I think hope is…okay to have every now and again.”

“Hasn’t been my experience,” Regina admits. “Most of my experiences have taught me quite the opposite: hope has always felt more like cruelty than anything worth desiring.”

“New story, new experiences. What do you say, Madam Mayor? Ready to start over?”

“You have to promise me something,” Regina requests, her eyes dark and serious.

“I promise I’ll be there if you struggle to help remind you what you’re fighting for.”

“I was gonna say, you have to promise you’ll stop me if I lose my way again.”

“I like my promise better.”

Regina turns fully, then, reaching for Emma’s hands and gently squeezing them in her own cool ones. Considering the more sensual moments they’ve shared during this trip, there’s perhaps a risk in such intimacy, but neither woman pulls away from the contact. “Promise me. I know who I want to be, Emma - someone worthy of Henry and maybe even…all of you. Maybe. But I also know who I actually am and who I have been for a very long time. You might believe in me, but I don’t and I know what I’m capable of when I’m at my worst. Nothing matters more to me than Henry does so you have to promise me that if I stumble again - if I fall - you’ll stop me.”

“I promise,” Emma vows as she thinks about Regina’s words in the dream on Neverland before she’d led the group on its attack against Pan. Regina had called her special - something many others have said to her in relation to her role as the Savior, but she finds herself actually believing the word when Regina says it. “Which doesn’t change that I do believe in you.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re having this conversation, and because I’ve now seen you lay down your life for our kid not once, not twice, but on four different distinct occasions. That matters to me.”

“You’re an idiot, Emma Swan; just like your parents.”

“Yeah, probably.”

“But I accept your offer of…” Regina trails off, uncertain.

“Let’s start with friendship and let whatever else happens…happen.”

“Friendship,” Regina echoes, frowning slightly, thinking of all the friends she’s never had. 

“Friendship,” Emma says once more, like she’s breathing the word - like she’s breathing them into existence. Caught in the emotional tidal wave of the moment, Regina looks down at their still joined hands and starts to step forward, not quite clear what she’s intending to do but -

“Ah, there you both are,” Hook’s voice booms at them, from somewhere up on the rail.

Reluctantly, they separate from each other, moving a couple steps away. “Hook?” Emma asks.

“We’re only a few hours from the border; we should get everyone together to discuss what we’ll need to do to get through it.” He looks at Regina. “We’re going to need magic.”

“Of course, we are,” Regina drawls. She looks over at Emma, smirking slightly, “Mine is still a bit erratic. You think you’re ready to save the day again, Sheriff Swan?”

“Always, Madam Mayor,” Emma grins and then winks at her. 

Like friends do.

Maybe even friends on their way to something more.

But first…first, it’s time to go home.

To the shock and surprise of literally no one, ten seconds after the Jolly Roger has returned to Storybrooke (a bit worse for wear; the trip through the wall had taken more than a few chunks out of the ship and all of its crew are even more bruised up than they’d been before - something absolutely all of them, but especially Regina, could have done without) Regina excuses herself and retreats to the solitary confinement of her oversized mansion, silently assuming that now that they’re back home, her previously self-imposed exile is still in effect. That she gives no one the chance to argue with her isn’t a surprise, either.

What is a shock is her not fighting for Henry to come back with her. Instead, she hugs him and kisses him on the top of the head and tells her confused son that she’ll call him in a few days. It’s the strangest thing, really, and they’re all a little baffled.

Especially Emma who is repeatedly replaying her last conversation with the Queen, trying to figure out how a conversation about friendship and support had somehow warped itself in Regina’s mind to her assuming she’d be once again unwanted and better well out of sight.

“She’s probably in a lot of pain,” Snow helpfully suggests. 

“Her shoulder got banged up all over again during the trip through the wall,” David reminds his anxious daughter as he plates a massive stack of waffles and bacon for his hungry family.

“Yeah, I know, but this hiding away in her house like a cranky old hermit bullshit isn’t going to help with healing her body or anything else,” Emma grumbles as she reaches for one of the waffles. Sure, it’s nearly eight at night and hamburgers would probably make a lot more sense, but when David had suggest breakfast for dinner, everyone had agreed rather readily. Anything but gamey bird. “We need the town to get used to seeing her out and about again.”

“To what end?” David asks as he hands her syrup. “How do you see this going?”

It’s absolutely not the question Emma had been expecting. “Uh, I mean…I think if Regina is serious about this whole redemption thing and…and I believe that she is, she needs to try actually living amongst people. She can’t, you know…she can’t hide away. People might forget that they’re afraid of her, but that will only last until they see her again and then -“

“Then they’ll freak out,” Snow sighs. “Emma is right. Also? This town needs Mayor Mills.”

“You can do the job,” David insists.

“I don’t want to do the job,” Snow replies. “I hate leadership. I don’t know how she tolerates all these people whining at her nonstop about the most inane and stupid of things. Regina might have been somewhat tyrannical as the mayor at times - especially after you came to town, Emma -  but everything ran well when she was in charge. Storybrooke needs that stability.”

“Mom was actually pretty good at being mayor,” Henry notes as he comes down the stairs, freshly showered. “And I think she kind of enjoyed it. Mom likes fixing problems.”

“I agree with you, Kid,” Emma greets, giving him a sideways half-hug. Turning to Snow, she asks, “Do you think the town will be willing to accept her as their mayor again?”

“Honestly?” Snow chuckles, shaking her head in disbelief. “Yes. People don’t want to worry about government and when she was in charge, they didn’t. They may hate the Evil Queen, but they’re willing to accept Mayor Mills if she’s willing to lead this town like she used to.”

“Great, now all we have to do is convince her to take back the job,” Emma drawls.

“We can do that,” Henry shrugs. 

“We can?” Emma queries, looking incredulously at her son. “What make you so sure of that?”

“Pretty sure there’s nothing Mom won’t do for either one of us.”

Snow snorts at that, then waves her hand dismissively

“Fine,” Emma agrees. “We’ll go see her after breakfast.”

"Do you think I should...go see her?" Snow suggests. "Let her know I'm supportive of...things." 

Emma chuckles at her mother's attempt at subtle - still not a family trait. "No. Not yet, anyway. But...eventually, I think that'd be good."

"Okay," Snow agrees. "But Emma, I really am supportive."

"I know and I appreciate it. Just...one step at a time, okay?"

"Of course."

"Step one," Henry announces. "Is helping her to see that she doesn't need be alone. Not, anymore."

“We'll help her see that,” Emma promises, and kisses him on the top of the head. Thinking about how much a little bit of time can change so much. A few weeks ago, Regina and Henry’s relationship had been critically wounded, her own with Regina had been tumultuous and close to blowing up on both of them, and oh yeah, she’d been at war with Snow White once again. Electricity, a magical diamond and Neverland had changed all of that.

Thankfully, for the better - much, much better. 

That said, as Emma considers the changes, it occurs to her that Regina - the smartest woman she thinks she’s ever met - most certainly has as well, and that’s probably why she’s retreated to the safety of her house. She probably assumes that once everyone has time to breathe, all of the growth they’d experienced as a family on Neverland will drift away leaving them all back where they were. Only that’s not possible because none of them are who they were. Neverland had brought them all face-to-face with their worst fears. Regina, already raw and exposed from her trauma at Greg’s hands, had tried to die for her son, but been saved instead.

By the family she’s always claimed to never want.

By the family it’s quite clear she craves connection to, but is equally afraid of failing once again.

That’s what this is, Emma knows - this sudden retreat to behind closed doors isn’t because she’s worried about the townies - she only slightly cares what they think of her - but rather it’s because she’s afraid of herself and fearful of rejection from those she actually wants in her life.

Her son, her co-mother and maybe even Snow White. Yeah, all of that is probably more than enough to cause a bombastic, brave, tenacious Queen who never seems to be afraid of anyone or anything but absolutely is, to want to run and hide. 

That ends tonight.

The only way forward is, well…forward. 

And friends? Friends help each other take that first step and no matter what else she and Regina might one day be to one another (and isn’t it curious, she muses, that her mind refuses to let go of the idea of there possibly eventually being more), they’re at the very least that. 

So she eats her waffles and she laughs with her son and her parents and she thinks about how before this day is done, if she has her way, Mayor Mills will be behind her desk at City Hall. Back where she belongs.

Really, Emma thinks with a wide grin, there’s no other way for this story to go.

She answers the door on the third knock, looking utterly annoyed at the disturbance.

That is until she sees Henry and Emma and her face brightens. What’s curious - at least to Emma - is that she makes no attempt to hide her joy at seeing them. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight - either of you,” Regina admits as she leads them inside, her white-socked feet soft against the wood floor as she leads them into the kitchen. It’s somewhat fascinating to see Regina like this - wearing black yoga pants and a thin gray ribbed sweater; more casual than Emma can ever recall having seen her. It’s a nice look - a great look, if she’s entirely honest.

But now is neither the time nor place to dwell on uh…aesthetics. 

“Kid was worried about you,” Emma shrugs, gesturing towards him.

“So were you,” Henry lobs back, curiously not willing to be a breaker between them like he usually is. In many ways, that’s been his role in this weird makeshift family unit of theirs - to bridge the gaps between his mothers and smooth things over. To remind them what matters.

Thing is, Neverland changed even that. Henry knows he will always be the most important person in both of his mothers’ lives - nothing will ever alter that. But he’s twelve, almost thirteen now, and he wants his mothers happy in a way a ten-year-old might not have thought too much about. Now, he knows what they feel for each other and if it’ll make them happy. Not that they have any intention of making things easy, he grouses to himself.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma shrugs. Then to Regina, “How’s the shoulder?” She motions to the sling that Regina is still wearing.

“It’s fine,” Regina assures them both. “I just…I guess I’m a little tired after everything.”

“Understandable,” Emma nods. “But we figured you might like some company.”

Regina chuckles. “I’m sure you have better things to do with your night.”

“We really don’t. Right, Kid?”

Henry rolls his eyes. “We were just having waffles -“

“For dinner? That’s hardly nutritious.” 

Emma grins. “It absolutely isn’t. You should have been there.”

Regina hums noncommittally to that. “Well, then I suppose desert is unnecessary.” She glances over at the oven, the timer on it counting down to about two minutes left.

“Desert is never unnecessary,” Henry protests. He crosses over to the oven and looks inside to see what she’s baking and then grins. “Brownies,” he announces rather happily. 

“I figured I’d bring them to you tomorrow,” Regina explains, her hands coming together in front of her in a sure-fire sign of just how afraid she is that Henry will throw her offering back in her face. It’s just brownies and they don’t mean much, but she knows how much he likes them.

She knows and more than anything, she just wants her son happy.

And apparently, his other mother, too.

“Well, now you don’t have to,” Emma states. She looks at Henry. “Brownie party?”

“Brownie party,” he agrees and then exits the kitchen, leaving the two women alone.

“Henry?” Regina calls after him.

“He’s finding a movie,” Emma explains.

“Oh…you have done this before?” Try as she might, she can’t quite hide her jealousy.

Thankfully, Emma just grins. “Once or twice. And now we’re doing it with you.”

“Is this…part of our other discussion?”

“About us?”

“Yes.”

“Sorta. I mean, I know we haven’t decided what if anything we want to do, and that’s okay, but we also agreed that going forward, we’d do our best to co-parent Henry as friends, right?” Off Regina’s nod, she continues, “So, I figured what better way than to spend time as a…family.”

“Family,” Regina repeats quietly, thoughtfully.

“Or you could hide away in your house and be just as miserable as you’ve always been.”

Regina’s eyes flash dangerously, instinctively. “You don’t know me.”

“I kinda do after all this time. You and I get each other. And what I know is that you’re really good at tearing shit down - including your own life - but less good at building.”

“What’s your point?”

“My point is, we didn’t go through everything we did on Neverland for you to pull away again.”

“This town -“

“Needs you.”

“What?” Regina exclaims. “What are you -“

“Storybrooke needs Mayor Mills. I want that, too.”

“What about your mother? Surely, she has no intention of surrendering power to me.”

“She was the one who suggested it,” Henry notes as he comes back into the kitchen. It’s at that moment that the timer on the oven dings and dutifully, he crosses over to it.

“Henry, grab an oven mitt,” Regina insists. To Emma, she asks, “Snow suggested this?”

“She wants to be a teacher. That’s what she’s meant to be doing. You’re meant to lead.”

“The town hates me. They’ll never accept this.”

“We’ll convince them,” Henry chirps as he brings the tray of brownies over.

“No, honey, I don’t want -“

“Hey,” Emma says, gently, placing a hand lightly on Regina’s forearm. The contact is warm and soft and makes Regina look down in curiosity, so painfully unused to contact that’s benevolent. Regina closes her eyes and nods. There’s so much more she wants to say about her mindset - about where her head is with everything that’s happened - but she won’t say any of it in front of her son. She’s already showed him enough weakness and vulnerability for a lifetime, she thinks. Even trying to be open and more truthful doesn’t change her need to protect him. The blonde sheriff - as always - seems to just inherently understand. “Good,” she says. “What movie did you pick, Kid?”

“Star Wars. It’s one of mom’s favorites.” He beams when he says this, and a touched Regina can’t quite help herself from flushing with gratitude love and affection for her son. 

“It is?” Emma asks, looking incredibly amused and intrigued by this information.

“Anakin is sympathetic,” Regina grouses.

“Uh huh. You got any root beer? I’m thinking best thing to pair brownies with is floats.”

“I always have root beer,” Regina chuckles. “Go get the movie set up; I’ll bring the floats in.”

“As Her Majesty commands,” Emma teases.

“Mm. So you can be trained. Good.”

“Ew. I said I’m okay with you guys…that doesn’t mean I want details.” And then he’s fleeing the room, desperate to avoid any other bits of inadvertent parental trauma.

Once he’s gone, Emma turns to face her co-mother. “You okay? I mean, honestly okay?”

“I’m trying to be. I’m sore and…I’m struggling to believe that everything that happened…did.”

“Because it worked out?”

“Yes,” Regina admits. “That’s…that’s not usually how things go for me.”

“Not usually how they go for me, either,” Emma concedes with a shrug as she takes a bottle of root beer from the refrigerator and hands it to Regina. “So maybe we start something new.”

“I’m trying,” Regina says simply.

It’s the last thing she says until they’re walking out to the front room with the brownies and floats, and Emma knows beyond a doubt that this conversation is far from ever.

Turns out nearly dying from electrocution, venting almost all of your magic to save Storybrooke and then getting kidnapped and tortured by a demon in the body of a teenager is exhausting, and so neither Henry nor Emma are terribly surprised when Regina falls asleep about forty minutes into the movie, her head lolling onto her son’s shoulder as she silently slumbers. 

“Should we stop the movie?” Henry whispers.

“Nah, let it play. We’ll wake her up when it’s over,” Emma answers as she reaches for another brownie. The Queen is a lot of things, and an excellent baker is absolutely one of them. It’s a bit funny considering their own history with baked goods - the apple turnover, to be specific - but she has absolutely no hesitation, anymore. She feels…actually very safe right here.

Weird, but nice, she thinks as she slumps back into the couch to watch the movie.

Ten minutes later, she’s asleep as well.

“We need a better place to meet in our dreams besides Neverland,” Emma sighs as she paces around the old camp site, her eyes immediately tracking to the healthy fire. 

“Probably,” a sling-less Regina admits as she turns around in a circle, stopping when her eyes land on the flickering campfire nearby. She takes several strides towards it before stopping again, looking thoughtful. “Though, I don’t think I brought us here. Not this time, anyway.”

“Well, you know I didn’t.” Emma frowns. “Is this a Pan thing?”

“No, that little shit won’t be hurting anyone anytime soon. Especially us.”

“Okay, then…”

“It’s our bonded magic. It’s created a…safe space for us.”

“Why does our magic think we need a safe space?” Emma queries, head cocked. 

“Probably because our magic keeps reaching out for each other. It’s…bonded now.”

“That sounds kind of intense.”

“It is,” Regina hedges. 

“Regina, what are you don’t telling me?” Her eyes narrow. “Wait, is this why you hid away?”

“I did not hide,” Regina insists indignantly.

Emma waves her off. “You did. Can I create marshmallows inside of our dream?”

“You had five brownies and a full float. Do you really need s’mores as well?”

“Yes.”

“Child,” Regina grunts and waves her hand, making chocolate, marshmallows and graham crackers appear. “Obviously, they’re not real, but your mind will tell you they are.”

“My ass appreciates that,” Emma chuckles. “Now, answer the question.”

“I wasn’t hiding…I just…I figured you’d change your mind and I didn’t want to make things uncomfortable for either of us. You didn’t ask to have our magic bind us together.”

“Nor did you. Right?”

“No, never. I’d…never do that to you.”

“I believe you so tell me what’s going on here because I’m incredibly lost. We connected on Neverland and I thought we agreed that at the very least, we’re friends.”

“I…we are?” Regina groans. “We are. I…haven’t had a lot of friends in my life, Emma. Almost none so you’ll excuse me if I struggle with believing I have one now."

Emma steps forward. “Can I touch you?”

Regina’s only answer is a slight, uncertain nod.

One more step and then Emma lifts both hands to touch either side of Regina’s face. “I know this is scary as hell for you - it is for me, too. I’m not exactly a pro at relationships and the ones I have had...have ended pretty catastrophically. But I also know that the Emma Swan who existed before Storybrooke no longer exists and I’m okay with it. It’s taken me a very long time to come to terms with so much change, but I think I like who I’ve become. I think I like who my parents and Henry and even you have made me into. And…I think I like who you’ve become when you’ve stopped fighting against who you actually are.”

“And who am I? Because to everyone in Storybrooke, I’m the Evil Queen. But you -“

“To me, you’re just Regina.” And then Emma is leaning forward and very gently kissing her.

Both women startle to awareness at the same time, jerking forward on the couch and nearly tossing Henry - who has been attentively watching the movie - off of the sofa.

“Hey!” 

“Sorry,” Emma exclaims, reaching for him, but Regina already has her arms around him, even as she looks at Emma in amazement for what they had  just shared.

“I’m okay,” Henry grumbles, finally escaping the dual mothering. “What was that?”

“Uh…bad popcorn?”

“We didn’t have popcorn,” Henry reminds her.

Regina rolls her eyes. “I think I kicked her when I woke up,” she explains. It’s a white lie, but an easy one and though he doesn’t entirely buy it, he seems to realize there’s no malice or attempt to deceive him for any kind of “evil” reason so he sighs and - thankfully - chooses to let it go.

“Fine. Movie is over, anyway.”

“Oh,” Regina says, softly, hands pressing against her belly. “I’ll guess you’ll be leaving.”

“Actually, I was hoping -“ he looks at Emma, half-pleading her with his eyes to understand.

Hoping she won’t be upset by what he’s about to say next.

Thankfully, Emma gets it. “Kid wants to crash here. Good idea; he’s too big for me to carry home and he looks like he’s about to do a header into the first pillow he sees.”

That’s not entirely accurate, but no one contests her words. Instead, Regina smiles widely and it’s truly one of the most beautiful things Emma thinks she’s maybe ever seen. And oh, she’s starting to realize that she might have a problem. Weird that she’s not at all bothered by that. 

“Of course,” Regina rushes out. “You’re always…your room is exactly as you left it.”

“I know,” he tells her, smiling gently at her. Trying to reassure her that he wants to be here. That maybe after everything they’ve been through together, they’re truly ready to move forward. 

She exhales and nods and then says in a slightly shaky tone that underscores just how anxious and unsure she is about the offer she’s making, “And Emma, you’re of course welcome to stay as well. I would be happy to make up the spare bedroom for you if you would like.”

“I appreciate that, but I think after the last few weeks, I’d really like to sleep in my own bed.”

“Of course.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Yes, maybe next time,” Regina concurs and they’re looking at each other like maybe they’re having a different conversation than just one about platonically staying over.

Which, of course, their intuitive son notices, his eyes jumping from mother to mother. But he says nothing, just watches their almost shy awkwardness with fascination. 

Finally, Emma stands. “I’m gonna get out of here. Breakfast?” It’s unclear who she’s asking.

A few seconds of uncertainty passes by - time where Regina isn’t quite willing to put herself and her feelings out there in case she’s mistaken about Emma’s intent. Finally, Henry decides to take initiative. “Breakfast sounds great. Mom usually makes it around nine on Sundays.”

“And tomorrow is Sunday,” Emma nods. Then to Regina, “I don’t want to invite myself -“

“We’d love to have you,” Regina tells her.

“I’ll bring muffins.”

“You don’t - thank you.”

Emma nods. She takes a step forward, almost like she’s either going to hug or kiss Regina goodnight and then seems to decide otherwise, recognizing that whatever is happening between them, they’re not quite at that place just yet. Or maybe ever or…well, not yet.

Instead, she smiles once more and then turns and exits, the door closing behind her.

Leaving mother and son alone in their own house for the first time in months.

“Henry,” she starts. “I know we didn’t really have much of a chance to really talk on Hook’s ship but I wanted to tell you how sorry -“

He shakes his head. “You came after me.”

“Did you ever doubt I would?”

“You gave yourself up for me.”

“Did you ever doubt I would?”

“Yes,” he answers both questions, and her heart sinks, but then he’s smiling. “But never again; I was wrong about you. I know you’ve been working really hard to be better -“

“I failed you,” she admits, thinking about the magic she’d used on him. “I betrayed you.”

“I know why you did it and…I forgive you. And I’m…I’m proud of you.”

Tears fill her eyes. “Sweetheart -“

“I believe in you, Mom. That’ll never change. Not ever again. I believe in you and...and I'm proud of you.” And then he’s surging towards her and hugging her as tightly as he can (though taking obvious and intentional care not to jar her sore shoulder). Her good arm circles him and then she’s dipping her head towards his, burying her face into his hair and trying hard not to break down. That can wait for later - for now, she just wants to hold her son and be thankful that she can. Everything else - their continued forward journey - can start tomorrow. Tonight, there’s just this.  Tonight, there’s just them.

Mother and son reunited.

Life goes on in Storybrooke as it always seems to do no matter the catastrophic events that seem to constantly, endlessly threaten it. In the weeks that follow the return from Neverland, Regina is re-elected in a shocking (to her) landslide, Emma and David return to the sheriff’s office, Snow resumes teaching and the townies continue whining and gripping endlessly about the smallest of things. It’s all very normal. For a town full of fairytale characters, anyway.

What isn’t normal - at least for the two women involved - are the dreams that they continue to share. Dreams which have, over the weeks, become more and more physical in nature. That nothing has actually occurred in the waking world of Storybrooke hardly seems to matter considering how deep and emotional their interactions around the campfire have become. Still, they’re both aware that they’re coming rapidly to a place where they’ll need to make a decision about whether to try to start something real or decide to let the opportunity pass.

“Ball is in your court, Your Majesty,” Emma tells her as she pokes the fire in the dream.

“Is it, really?” Regina - finally free (here and in the real world) of the obnoxious sling, her shoulder healed enough for just PT going forward - asks as she approaches. These days, it seems like she’s barely asleep before she finds herself transported here. That this meeting place of theirs is on Neverland bothers her because she’d prefer to forget that place ever existed, but she supposes that the location itself is merely a non location specific manifestation of their ever-deepening attraction and rapidly growing connection and little more than that. Or so she hopes - she really would prefer to never encounter Peter Pan ever again.

Thankfully, after almost two months of these dreams, there’s been no sign of the creep.

“I’ve told you I’m willing to give us a go,” Emma reminds her.

“You have,” Regina agrees. “I’m just not entirely sure I believe you.”

“Sorry?”

“I think maybe you’re counting on me to be the one to pump the brakes and retreat.”

“Am I now?”

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Regina challenges as she takes the stick from Emma and leans in close. In the outside world, they’ve been far more careful about how close they are and how much they touch one another, but in here, the touches are as frequent as the make-out sessions are.

Frankly, it feels - is - a bit cowardly and they both know it.

Which is probably why Regina is challenging her now around this ridiculous campfire of theirs.

“You think I’m telling you I’d like to go out with you all so you’ll be the one to say no? Why would I do that? If I wasn’t interested, why wouldn’t I just tell you as much?”

“You don’t want to hurt my volatile, sensitive emotions and send me spiraling?”

Emma nods. “I do care about you.”

“More than you should.”

Emma fixes her with a knowing look. “Stop pushing me away. Go out with me.”

“Treat me like a Queen,” Regina preens, eyebrow lifted.

“Dinner isn’t usually where I do that,” Emma quips.

“Oh, I see. So dinner isn’t where you’re expecting our night to end, then?”

“No expectations. Just us spending time together and going from there.”

“I don’t like surprises,” Regina reminds her, her voice quiet.

“I know. But I also know that sometimes? It’s nice to be spontaneous. Cards on the table, right? I….like you and I’m pretty sure you like me.” She makes a face at her words, knowing that they seem a bit childish considering the very adult lives that they’ve both lived. But maybe that’s the whole point of this. A few weeks ago, they’d been in Neverland, uncertain about so many things and not even considering that their relationship would grow into something more.

But it had and now here are they are, at the proverbial crossroads.

Emma continues with, “Normally, I’m the one running. I’ve been a runner for most of my life and honestly, what we’re talking about here? Running would be a valid option.”

“Because I’m the Evil Queen?”

“Mayor Mills is plenty scary,” Emma laughs. She steps forward. “We’re both fucked up in so many ways. We’ve been through so much...together and apart."

“So maybe we should just stay friends.”

“If that’s what you want. I want you to want this as much as I do so if you don’t -“

“I do,” Regina admits, quietly.

“So tell me what you do want?” Emma prompts.

“You,” Regina admits and then she’s stepping forward and this time it’s her hands on Emma’s face. “It’s going to take me time to believe that this is happening. I…things like this don’t work out for me, Emma. My history with relationships is…complicated at best. Mostly messy.”

Emma nods. “First time - and first person I ever went out - was with a girl named Lily.”

“Really?”

“Yes. My story-time; you can give me your history in a minute. Beyond Maleficent.”

“Mal was the best part of my sexual history,” Regina answers. “Besides, what makes you think I want to know your whole history? I’m a very jealous woman.”

“Shocking,” Emma quips, grinning because she can tell that Regina is mostly joking. “But hang around for my point. Lily was my first love…hookup, whatever, but things got messy between us and…yeah. Then I found Neal after I stole the car he’d stolen and that landed me in jail and pregnant. From there I’ve dated men and women and they have all been messy as hell.”

“So you thought you’d go after the woman who stalked and tried to murder your mother?”

“I thought I’d see where things go with the mother of my child - the strongest woman I've ever known."

“Who exactly is it that you think I am, Emma? Because I'm not sure even I know who that person is."

“I know so let's figure out who we both are. Together."

“You know this could end badly. I…don’t see what you do when I look in the mirror.”

“I know you don’t because I don’t see what you see when I look in my mirror.”

“Oh.”

“But for what it's worth, I do get it. Your fears of this crashing and burning? I get them because I have those fears, too. But thing is, I think I’d still like to roll the dice and see where we land.”

“You know I’m still in therapy and probably will be for the rest of my life.”

“That’s a good thing.” Emma reaches for her hands, squeezing them between her own. The shaking will take time to fully cease, but every day is better.

“Is it?”

Emma shrugs. “I have a weekly session with Archie, too; you’re not alone in having skeletons in your closet. Maybe I’m hoping we can help each other through that, too.”

“Maybe we can,” Regina allows and then she’s kissing Emma. Gently, tenderly, warmly. When she pulls back, she says, “Tomorrow night. Henry can stay with your parents.”

“You trust me to plan something for us?”

“I trust you, Emma. Everything else...I trust you."

“Good,” Emma grins and then steps forward again. “Because I’m really looking forward to getting to do a lot of this in the real world. I know we had that one kiss in Neverland, but…I have questions.”

“Questions?”

“So many questions. All of them demanding answers.” And then she’s leaning forward and answering the Queen’s kiss.

Holding it there even as the dream fades away.

“I admit,” Regina drawls. “A campsite was not what I expected when I told you to plan things.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you think we’ve spent enough time around a fire-pit?”

“We have," Emma agrees, nodding her head in agreement. "We connected around one. You taught me magic and showed me you.”

“What’s your point?”

“Did I tell you I actually did some research? I got curious about this dream thing of ours.”

“Is that so? Did that curiosity take you to a library?” Regina teases.

“Actually it did. I found Belle quite helpful. Ever heard of Dreamwalkers?”

“I have,” Regina hedges. 

“You’re one, aren't you? A gifted witch capable of creating dreamscapes and bringing others into them with you? That's what you created in Neverland, right?"

“I need something that felt controllable. Dreamwalking is something Mal taught me,” the Queen acknowledges. “Does that…bother you?”

“That Maleficent - the dragon lady I rammed a sword through -“ Emma frowns at that, thinking back to that day under the library - one of the times she and Regina had teamed to save Henry. “Taught you cool magic? Because yeah, I might be a little bit of jealous of that. But there are things I can teach you, too.” Her frown morphs into a smirk and her intentions are fairly clear.

“Can you now? Is that why we’re here? So you can…teach me things?” Regina’s eyebrow is up and she’s clearly teasing the sheriff. “Because your mother might not approve.”

“Didn’t my mother go see you last week just to say otherwise?”

“Yes. Never let her do that again. She was…cloyingly sincere.”

“Oh, admit it, you don’t actually hate that you and you and my mom are… talking.”

“We’re being civil to each other. For you.”

“If you say so.”

“You think I’m eager to be friends with Snow White? With our history?”

Emma steps closer, reaching for Regina’s hands, her warm touch as always calming the residual (though lessening, thankfully) tremors that continue to shake the Queen’s hands as she continues to heal from her multiple ordeals. “Actually, I think that’s exactly what you want.”

“You’re delusional.”

“Maybe, but I’m also right. I think that even with all the bad stuff between you, there's still a lot of love. You care about her and she cares about you. That's a start."

“Mmm. Did you really bring me out here to talk about your mother?"

Emma laughs. “Definitely not, and I promise I'll mostly stay out of your thing with her."

"Mostly?"

"Well, you two can get kind of cranky with each other at times."

"I get cranky with you as well," Regina reminds her, slightly pouting, and honestly, it's kind of adorable.

"Sure, but you want to do things with me. Unless I'm very, very mistaken, you don't have that same desire to do...things with my mother. Right?"

"Right," Regina deadpans. "No things with your mother."

"Good. Then we can get back to my actual reason for bringing us out here." She steps closer to Regina. "I really want to know what it’s like to kiss you in front of a real campfire.” Arms out wide, she gestures around them. “Out here in these woods, it’s just us and nature. We decide what happens next."

She extends a hand, then, as if asking Regina to trust her and take it. To take a chance on this thing of theirs - this developing love story of theirs.

“Be spontaneous with me; dance with me under the stars,” Emma requests.

A wide, stunningly beautiful smile spreads across Regina’s face. She takes Emma’s hand and lets Emma pull her in tight, so that they’re chest to chest, close enough to kiss if they’d like to. And they’d really like to. There will be plenty of time for that, Regina knows and so she curls even closer, feeling the thump of Emma's heart.

“By the way,” Emma says as she dips her mouth down to kiss the brunette’s mostly healed shoulder, her lips lingering. “I know you haven't been actively doing the whole dream-walking thing since we've been back here and it's our combined magic doing it, but...I'm okay with us continuing that as well, you know?"

“You are?”

“Sure. Just as long as we get to do everything we do in there out here in the real world, too. I like being able to touch you like this."

“Your terms are acceptable,” Regina says, and then she leans up and kisses Emma. Tender, sweet, growing into a passion that is both controlled and finally free to show itself. The Queen holds her soft lips there for a brief moment before pulling back and lightly resting her head against Emma’s shoulder. "

And then it’s just this. Two women lightly swaying together under a blanket of stars with a camp-fire gently flickering right behind them, casting reds and golds across their faces as they dance. Around them, crickets chirp and birds sing and still they continue moving together, wrapped in each other's warm, safe arms.

As one story becomes another. This particular journey may have started in a terrible way - trauma, weakness and so much self-loathing and pain - but it’s become something wonderful and extraordinary. It’s become a journey that they now get to walk with one another through multiple realities. 

It’s become the story of…them.

/FIN :D