STORYBROOKE, MAINE, 2022.
Two days before Emma's death.

The kitchen is quiet as Regina paces its floors in stocking feet. It's six A.M. on a Thursday morning, the air piercing cold and wet outside--the kind of weather that creeps inside and chills the inside of her mansion--with dark clouds not yet overrun by the sunlight of the day. Beside her, the coffee maker is on, no longer running, and Regina can only pace, panic pulsing through her veins as she dwells on the only thing--or rather, person--that's been on her mind since she set foot in Gold's shop two days ago.

The Black Fairy.

That bitch.

Of course, she's not scared of failing; she knows she and Emma can win this, she trusts in them, and with Gold on their side there's no doubt--

Wait.

Gold--that's who they need; with the Dark One combined with the Savior's magic and Regina's decades of practiced mix of dark and light magic, the insect doesn't stand a chance. Still, as her heart pounds and the sickness in her stomach doesn't fade away, she wonders if maybe it all isn't so simple. When is it ever? Sighing, she places her mug in the sink and moves to wake Emma upstairs before she halts herself. Neither of them have experienced hardly anything resembling sleep over the past few nights; Regina can always feel whether or not Emma is sleeping by her breathing and the atmosphere in the dark room. Lately, the atmosphere has been far more like staring at the opposite wall in the pitch black of the master bedroom, before falling into snippets of fitful sleeps before one of them gives up for the night and leaves the room to sit downstairs.

Today, it was Regina who had given up, but not before she listened carefully in the quiet dark and heard the telltale sound of Emma's regulated breathing and tiptoed out of the room as silently as she could. That's how now, she finds herself alone in the kitchen, far too early in the morning for such little sleep, pondering how she's going to overthrow some of the greatest evil she's ever seen.

A glance towards the digital clock on the microwave reads 6:17, and before she knows what she's doing, Regina is placing a frying pan on top of the stove and firing up the burner. The churning pit in her stomach lurches at the very idea of food, but she knows Emma needs something in her system that isn't a bear claw or a beer, and her sleeping son a level above her will rise in a couple of hours and eat her out of house and home. For a moment, she pauses as the butter melts in the pan, and allows herself to think how lucky she is to be here, now, in this moment.

Because right now, she's cooking breakfast in a silent kitchen, the sun slowly rising outside, with a sleeping wife and son upstairs. Right now, she doesn't need to think about an evil fairy with a kidnapping plan and a mind to wipe out the whole town; right now, she's just a mom and a wife with a job to do that she understands and is perfectly capable of doing--is good at doing, even--and for the first time in many, many hours or even a day, she feels a hint of a smile creep onto her face, the knot inside of her lose loosen, and the tense muscles in her face relax.

She even tastes the pancake batter along the way, and if she hums a little tune while she works, well, who's around to hear her?

---

An hour later, the pancakes are fully cooked and Regina has just turned off the stove when she senses movement in her peripheral vision. She glances to her left and finds her wife standing there, and despite her swirling thoughts and the coolness of the kitchen, she feels a warmth spreading through her insides at the sight of her. She finds Emma's gaze and watches her for a moment that stretches into seconds. She's an absolute vision despite a complete lack of sleep, with loose blonde waves falling around her shoulders and soft eyes not yet lined in black, rumpled skimpy sleep clothes draping her athletic frame as she smiles softly in the early morning light.

Regina drops the rag she'd been wiping the counter with and moves across the kitchen towards her, collecting her lips in a sleepy, lazy kiss, eyes fluttering shut and curling her arms loosely around her waist.

Emma kisses back, smiling softly as she pulls away. She blinks her bleary eyes and peers past Regina's shoulder, taking in the spread of food. "You're up early," she comments, voice raspy from sleep, and Regina feels a surge of electricity shooting up from the pit of her stomach. Leaning upwards again--unusually shorter than her wife from her distinct lack of heels--she kisses her again, moving slowly down her neck and staying there, breathing against her warm throat, grounding herself in this moment, remembering what it's like. If she tries, tries, tries, she can forget about the Black Fairy.

Finally, she resurfaces, finding a smirking Emma gazing down at her. Regina blushes only slightly before reluctantly responding, "I, um, couldn't sleep."

The words brings a dark cloud in the kitchen, a thick anxiety in the atmosphere that shoots stabs of fear to the heart. Emma closes her eyes for a moment or two before opening them, face solemn. "I know you've been having trouble recently. Why didn't you wake me?" Behind the fear, there's a deep sense of love in her eyes, and her pale bony hand caresses the side of Regina's shoulder.

Regina shakes her head. "Because I know you can't sleep either, and once I knew you were finally asleep, I needed to let you rest. I'm fine, truly. I just came down for a cup of coffee and then I decided to, well." She glances over her shoulder at the eggs, bacon, and pancakes cluttering the island. "Busy myself."

Emma looks as though she almost wants to bring up the elephant--or rather, Fairy--in the room, but after a brief flicker of darkness in her eyes, she settles on a smile and rubs the side of Regina's arm before walking over to the food, snatching up a piece of bacon. "Well, I'm certainly glad you did. I'm starved."

The attempt of a light subject change works, perhaps a little too well, and Regina laughs before moving beside her, stealing the piece from her mouth and finishing it herself. In a fit of playful outrage, Emma gasps dramatically and slaps Regina's backside, causing the brunette to yelp a little too loudly. Emma shushes her, again, too loudly, and they fall into a fit of giggles that feels like a thousand-pound weight lifted off of their shoulders. It's all they need, and they share a kiss that consists mostly of bacon grease, and it's enough.

For now, for this moment, it's enough, and there's no such thing as magic or good and evil. Right now, it's just breakfast on an early Thursday morning in a domestic home, and it's everything.

---

The bell on the edge of the door chimes softly, seemingly the only presence in the shop to welcome Emma and Regina's entrance. After a long, much-needed family breakfast--once Henry had finally found his way into the kitchen with bed-tousled hair and a sleepy smile on his face--the women had quickly decided to pay a visit to Mr. Gold, for help in the battle looming ahead of them, if not at least for some advice.

The two women gaze around the antique-cluttered shop, finding the space behind the counter empty; however, a glance towards the thick curtain separating the public space to the room in the back reveals yellow lamp light spilling underneath the hem of the fabric.

Emma spins on her heel to face her wife, twitching hands shoving into her coat pockets. "I dunno, Gina--do you think he'll help us? We all know he gets really frickin' touchy about his family."

Regina snorts softly, tossing back a quick eye roll, enjoying the lightness of this conversation despite the heaviness of the situation. "I'll cash in a favor or two if I have to."

Emma crosses her arms in front of her chest, brows furrowed. "Really. Favors? Like what?" She combs through her memory briefly, thinking of the last time they had saved the man's life or something. She comes up empty.

Despite herself, Regina feels a smirk pull at the side of her mouth. "Oh nothing, just the time that I single-handedly convinced Belle to give him yet another chance and accept his date offer a few years ago. And yes, I let him know soon enough afterwards, so he knows he has a favor hanging over his head." She's fully grinning now. "There's nothing he hates more than that."

Emma snickers quietly, hoping he can't hear them in the other room. The whole conversation had been in good fun, however; she knows quite well that he and Regina love each other to pieces, but in a part-love, part-hate, part-it's-fun-to-push-your-buttons sort of way. While lately Storybrooke has been uncommonly without a crisis or two in the past couple of years, the heat of life-or-death situations have faded and been replaced with harmless banter. Still, with his murderous mother ready to slaughter the entire town hanging over their heads, she's not sure they'll be quite as civil now.

Finally, Gold emerges from the back room, wiping his hands daintily with a white cloth. Again, a brief, unreadable expression flickers across his face; Emma blinks, and it's gone. She stands still, fingers twitching at her sides, waiting for him to make a dry comment, an observation, anything. Instead, he walks slowly behind the counter, looking at his hands, the cloth, the clean counter, and then finally at them, calmly waiting for them to speak.

"Gold, we're--" Emma begins, feeling the rise of word vomit inside her throat. "We need to talk." She says instead, closing her eyes in a brief thanks to the powers that be that she didn't make a fool of herself. "About the Black Fairy?" She tacks on carefully, intentionally separating the villain's name from Gold's familial relationship with her.

Regina squeezes her hand, walking up beside her. "And before you even think about asking for payment, remember you owe me one," Regina says sharply, dark eyes flashing beneath the surface, and Emma doesn't know how many times it's possible to fall in love again, but she just did.

"Stand down, your Majesty," Gold says cooly, folding the cloth neatly and smoothing it on top of the counter beside him. "I'm prepared to help."

"Well you--" Regina begins, accusingly, then listens to his words. "What? Why?"

The man chuckles dryly, stepping forward a few paces, now standing directly where the Black Fairy stood only a couple of days before. "Your confidence in me is truly flattering. I'm prepared, Regina, because in case you've forgotten, my son is involved. And I would do anything to ensure his safety." He looks up then, and stares directly into Emma's eyes. Emma's hair stands on end, her blood rushes cold as she feels his penetrating gaze cut deep into her. "Anything."

Shaken, Emma takes a stumbling step backwards, eyes burning and blinking, casting a wild gaze towards the man in front of her, who seems to have gone completely back to normal, heavy-lidded, lazy gaze back on her wife. Still, the stare lingers with her, and she wonders what on God's green earth he was trying to communicate. Knowing him, there's a reason for every word he says, every movement he makes.

As the conversation progresses, as plans are made, as Regina scribbles a hurried battle plan map on an old newspaper, as leftover dust is collected and examined carefully under a magnifying lense, the moment stays with her.

Not for the first time since standing in this shop over the past couple of days, her stomach rolls and her throat grows thick. She senses a dark presence, a gut feeling, a something that she can't trace. Closing her eyes, she reaches out blindly to steady herself on a countertop, but in the darkness, she sees a pair of dark, dark eyes staring at her. Not Gold's eyes, but the Black Fairy's. They burn into her; she can't look away. She sees fire, she sees blood, and then nothing at all, as her knees buckle and her body hits the floor.

---

"What happ--" A question is the first words on her lips as Emma rises from a pillow, long blonde locks pooling on the fabric behind her head.

Regina cuts her off with a kiss to her knuckles. "You're awake," is all she says, before Emma can look around and notice where she is.

"What the hell am I doing in a hospital?" She asks slowly, looking toward her wife who has the decency to look a little guilty.

"I know it's overkill, but you passed out and fell on a hard surface, and what if you hit your head? I couldn't take that chance." She smiles softly, rubbing an equally soft palm over Emma's hand. "Whale says you're fine though."

Emma nods, making a move to get up. "I feel fine."

"And I'm glad to hear it, but I'm still worried. I mean, you passed out in the middle of Gold's shop, during a conversation. What happened?"

Emma props herself up on her elbows, thinking. She tries hard to remember what she had seen right before she fainted, but comes up empty. "I have no idea," she sighs, flopping back onto her pillow. "I guess I just haven't been getting enough sleep lately."

She glances towards her wife and pulls a half-pout. Regina responds with a bemused smile, shaking her head. "After this stunt you pulled, you're going to bed at ten. Sharp. And I'm not letting you have a single cup of coffee for at least five days."

Emma springs back up. "Wha--Gina! You can't!"

Regina shakes her head again, leaning forward and laughing into Emma's shoulder. "Come on, lets go home."

---

"God, what a frickin' day," Emma groans, fishing in her pocket for her house key, Regina chuckling beside her. Before she can even insert it into the keyhole, the door swings open, revealing their son, standing with his arms crossed.

"Hey, Kid," Emma greets, walking sleepily past him, reaching up high to ruffle his carefully styled hair.

"Where were you two?" He asks, and Emma stops in her tracks at his tone of voice. Not angry, exactly; but worried. Worried, and suspicious.

"Henry--" Regina begins, slowly closing the door behind her, shutting out the bitter cold, swirling wind outside from the warm, scented-candle filled mansion.

"I got a call from Grandpa Gold, and apparently Ma passed out? Hello?" He asks, gesturing wildly at himself.

"Henry, dear, the whole thing happened so fast, and I was the one who told your grandpa to call you the moment it happened. I got her to a hospital, she was tested, and she's okay," she tells him, a note of pleading in her voice, desperate even after all these years for him to believe her. He gives her a small reassuring smile, and turns to his blonde mother.

"I'm glad you're okay," He tells her, watching her snort in response.

"Yeah, apparently I just haven't been getting enough sleep," she rolls her eyes with a smirk.

Henry frowns. "You're...one of the heaviest sleepers I know. You sleep like a frickin' log any night, anywhere." When he goes to lock eyes with Emma, she looks away. "And why were you two at Gold's shop to begin with?"

Emma bites her lip and looks toward her wife.

Regina looks back.

Finally, Regina releases a breath and tucks a piece of dark hair behind her ear. "Just...town business," she says, but it doesn't even sound true to her own ears. Emma cringes slightly.

Henry laughs then, but it's a humorless one. "You two drive me insane, you know that? I'm twenty-two, not ten anymore. If there's something going on, what's even the point of sheltering me?"

"We're not--" Emma begins, but stops herself. Henry just looks at her. "Kid--"

Henry shrugs, eyes flicking between both of his mothers quickly. "You two are so damn stubborn, god," He says through gritted teeth, almost smiling. "It's fine, I'll just figure it out myself. As usual," he calls over his shoulder, bounding up the stairs, long legs taking two steps at once.

Emma throws a long look towards her wife, whose brown eyes are looking dangerously watery. "Gina, he's fine," she tells her reassuringly, rubbing her hands over Regina's stiff, rigid shoulders. "I can't help but think he might be right, though."

If Regina had begun to relax, she stiffens further now. "I--I don't want him involved," she says, in a voice small enough that Emma can feel a piece of her heart break. "I don't want him to get hurt," she leans forward into Emma, and whispers the last words into her flannel-covered shoulder.

Emma moves her hands to Regina's back, palms rubbing warmly and comfortingly through the fabric and near her backbone. "Okay," she says. "Okay, Honey."

---

It's an hour or two later that Emma raps softly on Henry's closed door with the back of her hand. She hears nothing for a good thirty seconds, but she's learned how to be patient these past years and waits.

The knob turns, and the door is opened about halfway. Emma looks up into her son's eyes, a green that's nearly identical to her own, and she doesn't find an ounce of hostility there. Her own eyes scan his figure, and for a moment, a piece of her heart clenches because she remembers all too well the little boy that knocked on her apartment door in Boston over ten years ago, and now, as she looks up into his face, she sees a man who has truly grown into his own person; a nearly college graduate whose eyes are a little too sad, as though he's seen too many things for a youth his age, as though he's experienced a little too much heartbreak. She sees a smart, healthy, handsome person that she can hardly believe came from her insides--that twenty-two years ago, as a pregnant girl in prison she had absolutely no hope of knowing--but is now standing in front of her, true, solid, and real, with an unmasked love in his eyes.

She cocks her head to the side, and smiles softly. "Hey, Kid."

Henry sighs, a smile cracking through his face as he slumps against the doorframe. "Hey, Ma."

She peers past his broad shoulder into his room. It's pretty bare inside; most of his belongings are in his college dorm room miles away, but she sees the same twin-sized bed draped with a blue comforter, and the same old paint on the walls, and her heart beats warmly at the familiarity of it all. "May I enter your humble abode?"

His eyes roll but there's a smile on his lips as he steps back and allows her to step inside the room. She walks around the small space for a moment, placing her hands on her hips, deciding against it, then crossing her arms. "I know you're mad." It's the first thing that pops out of her mouth, and she frowns a little at herself. Before she can continue, Henry's raising a palm in front of himself and speaking.

"Ma, I'm--I'm not mad, okay? I'm not surprised either," he can't help himself from throwing in, and Emma rolls her eyes this time, but affectionately. "But--I get that you two are trying to protect me. It's sweet," He tells her, and Emma feels tears prick the back of her eyes, and she doesn't know why. He pauses for a moment, sitting down on the edge of his childhood bed. "But it's not the same anymore. I'm not always going to be immortalized as this ten-year-old kid who couldn't kick someone's ass to save his life--granted, I was a pretty badass little guy--"

Emma throws back her head and laughs. "Cute." She drawls out, and Henry grins back, but then he's continuing.

"But it's different now. I realize you two are always going to be my moms, and I love you for that, but now I'm my own person. Someday I'll have a kid of my own, too, that I'll protect just as fiercely, but--" he breaks off.

Emma moves towards the bed and sits down next to him, nudging her shoulder into his bicep. She watches their legs, sees how his feet easily touch the floor and hers hover above it, and wonders when all of this happened. "It's okay, Henry. I get it," she tells him, turning her face to look at his. "And you're right. We can and will treat you like an adult, but we also will try to keep you out of harm's way for as long as we can. Because you're definitely right about one thing: we'll always be your moms. Got it?"

Henry nods, smiling with his lips pressed together. She takes another good look at him, sees the strong shape of his nose he's grown so handsomely into, sees the strong line of his jaw.

"And Kid?"

His eyes flick to hers, eyebrows raised.

"I'm really fucking proud of you."

He laughs heartily, mouth split into a grin and eyes squeezed shut before craning his neck to rest his head on hers. "And I really fucking love you, too." He tells her, snaking an arm around her side.

---

Emma pauses in the doorway of her shared bedroom before entering, watching. Regina's perched in bed, pillows stacked behind her against the headboard, reading glasses on as her eyes skim a book. As she watches, her heart beats warm, steady, smooth in her chest, and she wonders how she got so damned lucky. Sure, back in her apartment in Boston twelve years ago, she didn't have to deal with magical emergencies or villain battles or savior-destiny shit, but she also didn't have a single soul to fight for, much less come home to. As she traces her mind back all those years of solitude, she finds it's almost hard to remember a life without Regina, or a son. A life worth living, anyway.

And here she is, watching a dark-haired vision read on her side of the bed, waiting patiently for Emma to join her. And with everything Emma has within her, she wants nothing more than to join her. She takes a few steps forward and waits for her wife to look up. Emma's hands sink into the mattress, and Regina's eyes flick above the lenses of her glasses and sparkle and soften as she looks at Emma.

"Good evening, my Queen," Emma coos, crawling into bed beside her, snuggling under the covers and rubbing her cold feet against Regina's warm calves.

Regina turns her head lazily and gives Emma a slow, tender kiss. "How's Henry?" She asks as she breaks away, an unmistakable note of worry in her voice.

Emma moves closer to her wife and lays her head on her olive-toned shoulder. "He's fine, Love. More than fine."

Regina shifts. "What does that mean?"

Emma picks up her head. "I just mean...he's such a good kid--" she halts, correcting herself. "A good son. He's not exactly a kid anymore, Gina. And he's the best there is. Kind, smart, understanding," she breaks off, shaking her head a little. "He was telling me that he thought it was sweet that we were protecting him."

Regina has gone very still, and her breathing hitches. "He did?" She asks. He voice is low and irregular in tone.

Emma nods, gently holding Regina's chin with a few fingers and beckoning her to look at her. "And I just thought, that maybe..." she swallows, watching the glossiness in the other woman's eyes, "...maybe we've been so worried about who's going to raise him if something happens to us, that we didn't realize we already had." She whispers, and a tear escapes her eye and slides down the bridge of her nose.

Regina closes her eyes for a moment. "I know," she accepts, and nuzzles into Emma's palm against her face. "Emma, I love him," she says, and it comes out in a broken sob.

"And he loves you," Emma tells her, rubbing her thumb against her cheek, "more than you could ever know. Just as I do."

Regina breathes in a shaky breath.

"And, Regina Swan-Mills, I just want you to know that I always have, loved you, from the moment I met you. You know that don't you? You know that I would do anything for you. That I would change the color of the friggin' sky for you, if you said you were tired of blue." Emma tells her, blinking fast to clear her vision.

"Emma," Regina whispers, reaching up to palm Emma's face and wipe away her tears. "Don't say goodbye."

Emma shakes her head. "I'm not," she speaks through a gulp, then repeats herself. "I'm not. I just wanted to tell you I love you. I don't say it enough. I love you. I love you. I love you. And if anything were to happen in the battle tomorrow--"

"Emma--"

"--if anything were to happen tomorrow, I want you to know that I never doubted you. I never doubted that you could redeem yourself and move on from your past. I never doubted that Henry loved you, not even once. I always believed you were capable of anything you wanted to do. And I want you to know that I've never been so happy, in my entire life, than I have been with you. And I've never wanted to spend my life with anyone other than you and Henry. And I love you. I fucking love you."

Regina shakes her head, then nods, then smiles and sobs through her tears and lunges forward to embrace her. She wets Emma's neck and hair with her tears, and loses her fingers in the blonde locks. She draws back, lip quivering, then smashes her lips against Emma's in a first aggressive, then slow, warm, heavy kiss that lingers with Emma long after she breaks away. "I love you, Emma Swan. And don't you dare leave me."

Emma gives her a cheeky smirk and kisses her. "Yes ma'am. Or--yes, Your Majesty. I wouldn't dream of it."

Regina chuckles despite her tears. "I'll hold you to that, Savior."

Emma grins in response, green eyes sparkling before her face softens into an expression of absolute love and reverence. "You won't have to."

--

AN: uhhh. Sorry? I'm not kidding when I say this chapter took me an entire semester to write. In tiny sections. Every month or so. Sorryyy. I was uninspired, busy, uninspired, and did I say busy? If it makes you feel any better, I got all A's so it was worth it.

Merry Christmas Eve! It is now only 1:37 A.M., so I finished this early. Happy holidays, everyone, finishing this freaking chapter is my Christmas gift to you.

Mwah.