Emma's eyes continue to widen even further, if possible, and all Regina can do is look on and wait for other woman to speak first. She's used to being able to read Emma; but right now, she has absolutely no idea what is about to come out of the blonde's mouth. The uncertainty of it all pierces Regina between the veins of her heart; raindrops begin to pelt the windows, starting slow then faster and faster, beginning to sync with Regina's heartbeat.

Then Emma speaks. Well really, it's mostly a croak at first, but then she manages to stammer out something that sounds like, "Pan's curse--Henry--the town line...!"

Regina's eyelids close slightly, unfazed by Emma's sputtering. It's extremely common in memory potions for the earliest memories before they were wiped to return first, before the most recent--which would be kissing Regina on the couch. She just waits, with an impending feeling of dread, for the rest of the memories to lock in, and for the fire and brimstone.

Emma's quiet for another minute, mind still buzzing, and she gets up and begins to pace around the room. Then, finally, she stops in front of the couch and she and Regina lock eyes, brown and green irises meeting with pounding hearts. And first, the expression is unreadable, but then Emma's brow furrows ever so slightly, and then.... "You."

Regina's rooted to the spot. She can't move, can't breathe--all she can think is, oh, Emma, sweet Emma. A tiny part of her sparks some hope; she thinks that maybe, in the shortest of seconds, that Emma will still love her, that they can continue their relationship, but this time based on the truth. The spark stays with her for a moment, comforting her, stilling her heart; making her able to open her mouth--

But then, Emma's speaking again, raising her hands to her head. "You--we--oh, my god. Oh, my GOD!" Then she's off pacing again, and Regina sits still for a moment, pulling her fingers, unable to tell whether the blonde is furious or only shocked.

"You--you took advantage of me. I was cursed, Regina! Jesus," Emma spins on the ball of her foot, eyes filled with accusation, words of fire spewing from her lips, still numb from kissing the other woman.

Despite herself, Regina finds herself propelling herself off of the couch to stand a few paces from the blonde's face, fueled by indignant self-righteousness. "I would hardly call it cursed, Emma. I gave you good memories--my own memories with Henry as a child--a perfect life for you and Henry." The words come out harsher than she intended--adrenaline pulsing in her ears and earnest thoughts about her son clouding her judgement.

Emma's still facing her, eyes wide as ever, mouth turned down ever so slightly. "But it was all fake, Regina! All of it! It wasn't real," Emma yells, eyes blazing.

Regina, overwhelmed by Emma's under-appreciation, fires back before she can stop herself, "But you had Henry! All of those long, long years, you got to watch him grow up and I didn't!" Regina spits out, tears beginning to pool in her eyes, a vein in her forehead gaining momentum in its pulsing. "I didn't have anything!"

Emma throws her hands in the air before raising one to comb back her hair with so much fierceness she plucks a few strands from her scalp in the process. "Oh, that is so not fair. You don't get to turn this around."

"Oh, but I think it is. I can't imagine a terrible fate to exist while I have Henry by my side. Is there not an ounce of gratitude in your body?!" Regina punctuates her last statement by holding her index finger and thumb close together, barely six inches away from Emma's face.

Emma takes a step backwards out of instinct, before she bursts out in a tone hardly softer than a scream, "But it was all a LIE!" Regina pauses for a moment, lips parted in something like surprise from Emma's outburst. But then, Emma's continuing in a softer pitch. "All of it, all of my memories from the past nearly seven years, have been an absolute lie. Even you--from the moment you stepped into my life in New York, you were manipulating me, when I didn't know any better--"

Regina's blood freezes at the word manipulate, and her mind flashes to the beginning of their relationship. Maybe at first, it was a form of that awful word, but as their partnership grew, it became anything but that. But she'd almost rather the real Emma Swan think it was all an evil act, rather than the truth. Here Regina is, the former evil queen, terrified of what Emma would think of her if she knew. So, she cuts the other woman off, matching the loudness of her tone to Emma's. "Well, what else was I supposed to do?! Kidnap you and Henry and carry you off to a magical town on a whim? I had to have a plan of some kind. And don't lay this all on me--you were the one pining after me, handing your number off the moment we met." That last part Regina hadn't meant to say, but the real Emma can get under her skin in a way she hadn't remembered she could when she'd had a girlfriend a moment ago. Her Emma.

"Oh, god, Regina, I was cursed!! That wasn't me!" Emma cries out, her tone sounding almost desperate now.

"You were not cursed--" Regina begins, before the blonde's last statement catches up to her. That wasn't me. Of course it wasn't--everything had been absolutely fake. The real Emma had never cared for her.

"But I was, Regina--I was. All those years not knowing who I was--I'd lost myself. Maybe we don't share the same definition of the word, but I would sure as hell call that a curse." Emma doesn't wait for a reply before she turns around, heading for the doorway, and carelessly knocks over the memory potion-spiked glass sitting on the coffee table in the process. The whiskey soaks the plush ivory carpet, but Regina doesn't pay it half a mind as she watches her former love exit the room and march up the stairs.

So much for hope. Regina's mind flashes to a million different memories she and her Emma had made in the short time they'd had together. Cooking together in a cramped kitchen apartment, making messes Regina would normally be appalled at, throwing handfuls of flour at each other, puffs of white tickling their noses and lightening their hair. Curled up on the well-worn couch, watching homeowner shows that both pretend to be uninterested in, but in reality care far too much whether the lady and her husband will buy the house with the pool even though it's over their budget. Breathless nights spooning each other in the crumpled sheets of a bed, bare chests glistening with sweat from a long night of pleasuring each other. Taking each other on spontaneous dates, whether it be to the park or an ice cream shop, to reservations at a five-star restaurant, where Emma always wore a dress to put a smile on Regina's face, though it was clearly an uncomfortable outfit for the blonde.

Kisses that stopped time, taking each other's breath away, sparks exploding in her chest as she realizes that she's never felt this way about anyone. And god, Regina misses it. Misses it as though it's been years since she'd tasted it, but now she's alone in the living room, suddenly cold, and there's high-volume winds whipping through the trees outside, and Regina suddenly feels small--the queen, all powerful and mighty, now reduced to a tiny speck in the largeness of her living room. She feels alone.

And then, she hears footsteps padding down the stairs, and her heart, for a moment, foolishly begins to have hope that Emma's come down the apologize, so they can talk. But then she realizes too late that there's an abnormality in the steps; it sounds uneven, as if she's carrying something heavy--

And then there Emma is, in plain sight at the foot of the stairs, her suitcase in tow and a few bags slung around her shoulder. Regina opens her mouth to say something, but she can't make herself, and then they're locking eyes, and--

--and Emma's looking away, turning away as if unfazed, making her way to the front door, unlatching it, and walking out into the storm.

---

Henry laughs. The sound is abnormally loud, maybe a little jarring, but he's too wrapped up in the conversation to notice or be embarrassed by it. "No way. Then what did the worker say?" He doesn't know why, but the way Iris tells stories of the misadventures of her life, she's so hilarious about it, and the whole time she's rambling on and on, walking around the room, acting out certain parts, he's laughing continuously as if his sides could rip apart.

"You already know. She kicks me out!" Iris says, as if it's the most appalling thing in the world, and Henry thinks his breathing has turned to a wheeze. "I didn't know it was possible, but apparently, you can get kicked out of Walmart. God knows it's where all the barely-human creeps like to spend their time, but as soon as I accidentally knock over the entire rack of big-ass bouncy balls, I'm suddenly the one that has to go home."

"Oh, my god. Oh, my god, stop!" Henry makes out, his toes curling around the cheap carpeting covering the floor at Granny's Bed and Breakfast. He's glad Iris invited him to hang out at her room, but he knows as soon as he gets home, his mom will probably be pissed that he hadn't sent a text. His abs hurt, and he absently brings a hand up to his mouth to touch his lips, seemingly still tingling from his and Iris's kiss.

A startlingly loud clap of thunder rumbles overhead, followed almost immediately by a flash of lighting. It draws Henry out of his state, and he sits up from his position on the floor. "Shit, it's pouring out there. I gotta get home." He tells Iris, and he's halfway through putting on his shoes before he realizes what he'd said. Home. He'd referred to the mansion as home, again. Why had he done that? Why is it so damned easy for the word to fall from his lips? He tells himself once more that it's a reflex, because it's just where he's staying for a few weeks. He sneaks a glance at Iris; it looks like she caught his choice of wording, but she doesn't say a word about it, which he's immensely grateful for. He grabs his phone off the bed where Iris is sitting, and swoops down for a peck on her mouth as a goodbye kiss, all the while his heart pounding in his ears. He pulls back almost instantly, searching her face for a sign that that was as idiotic a move as he thought it was. But she's smiling, with her eyes crinkled at the corners, and then she's telling him to get home safe.

And then he's smiling to himself, pulling his hood over his head and making his way out into the rain. He knows it's a fling, he knows it, but damn, if it doesn't feel good.   

---

Emma's raw knuckles slick from the rain pound on the green wooden door of her parents' loft. Her chest is heaving, her mind is racing at a dizzying rate as it can't choose which glaring thing to focus on first, and she's not sure whether the wetness on her cheeks is from the storm or tears. It feels like an eternity before the door swings open, and then there's her dad, looking a mix between happy and surprised at first, before carefully schooling his features to unreadable. It breaks Emma's heart, and she remembers the last time she'd seen him seemingly so long ago, when she'd looked right past him and introduced herself to him. It seems impossible now; curse or no curse, she feels horrible about it. So she opens her mouth, now certain tears leaking from her eyes.

And then, "Dad."

David's caught off guard first, mouth opening then closing, then opening again--then there's a new glassiness to his eyes that hadn't been there a moment ago--then there's a a brilliant smile lighting up his face like a burst of sunshine from within. And when he finally speaks, it's all in a single breathless exhale, as if he can't quite fill his lungs. "Emma--oh my Emma," he chokes out, a single tear escaping from one sparkling blue eye, and then he's stepping forward with his arms out, and then she's folding into his embrace. "It's you." He whispers after a moment, and Emma shudders.

"It's me," she assures, nuzzling her nose into his shoulder, closing her stinging eyes, and for one moment she can forget the mess she left at the mansion. For one moment, she can drink in the scent of her father, dig her fingers into his back and enjoy the sense of security.

Then he's releasing her, keeping his hands on her shoulder, and he starts to look more like himself, eyes crinkling at the corners as his two rows of white teeth separate in a grin. He claps her on the shoulder, the other hand squeezing, and he's calling out for Snow.

Before more than three seconds, Snow's there, and she looks on in confusion at David's state and affectionate touches towards Emma. Her eyes make their way to Emma's, and she's smiling awkwardly and embarrassedly, opening her mouth to apologize for the inappropriateness of her husband. But then, Emma does the last thing she expects.

"Mom--" Emma begins, a sunshine smile on her face as equally bright waves cascade over her shoulders. She can't get any farther though, because Snow's crossing the room at an impressive rate, and she's encasing Emma in a hug.

"Emma! You--you remember...!" Snow barely makes out, squeezing her even tighter. "You found us."

Then Emma's escaping her grasp, her smile faltering slightly as she corrects, "No--no, Regina found me." Then she's frowning, inwardly wondering why she'd jumped so quickly to defend Regina and hand over the credit. After...after what had happened at mansion. It seemed years ago that they'd been together--happy--kissing on the couch, when in reality it couldn't have been more than a half hour ago. She curses the wetness in her eyes at the thought; Regina had made it exceedingly clear where her feelings lay. She's not willing to let it ruin her reunion with her parents. But as she tries to smile again, it's a little harder, and her heart is a little heavier.

Something shadows across Snow's face then, and she steps back only slightly, brow furrowed. Then, "Yes, of course--where is Regina?"

Emma drops her head, heart dropping significantly at the mention of her name. She scuffs the toe of her hoot on the polished wood of the floor as she allows her blonde waves to hide her face before she responds. "Um, at the mansion," she replies truthfully.

Thankfully, her parents find it somewhere in their hearts not to push it, and then David's placing a strong arm around her shoulders. "Well, I think a night like this deserves ice cream. Rocky road?"

Emma looks up at her young father and she doesn't have to fake the close-mouthed smile that graces her features just then. "You know it."

---

Henry enters the mansion's impeccably clean floors, leaving pools of rainwater on the tile before slamming the door shut behind him. He removes his hood, then shakes his head in an attempt to dry the few locks of hair his hood hadn't covered sufficiently. He runs a hand over his features before walking into the kitchen, calling out for his mom. He doesn't get an answer at first, and his nose crinkles, hoping that he isn't interrupting something between his mom and her girlfriend. 

But then his name is called, but by someone else. He follows the source of the noise and finds himself in the living room, looking at Regina by herself and a spilled glass of scotch on the carpeting. "Where's my mom?" He asks then, a little more testily than he'd meant to.

Regina turns to face him, face giving away far too much, and instantly Henry's protectiveness towards his mom fires up and he takes a step forward. "What happened." He demands, the words far more like a statement than a question.

Regina's face twists up slightly, and she stands, fingers pulling at each other. "There was an...argument. Emma's gone out--I'm sure she'll be back soon. You're perfectly welcome to spend the night," she tells him, almost desperately, and he looks at her in a way that burns her mind. She thinks of his potion in the study, still in preparation, needing at least another day to be ready for use--and wishes, wishes that she'd left some of Emma's potion for him. Still, she's not at all sure how she would convince him to drink it.

Henry looks at her with disappointment, and, oh god, anger--and she can't at all keep his fiery gaze. All she can think is, Henry, Henry, my little prince, don't leave me too. Don't leave me--

But then he's talking, taking another couple steps forward, and it takes all Regina has not to shrink back the few steps he'd advanced. "What did you do?" He finally accuses, and Regina's eyes squeeze shut, thousands of memories rushing back towards her, crashing over her like a tidal wave. She closes her eyes, and she can see Henry, nearly ten years ago as a boy, and he's looking at her with accusation thick in his flashing eyes, and he's saying "What did you do?" Looking at her, seeing only the Evil Queen and not the woman who had dried his tears and been his mother for the entirety of his life, and oh god, that's all she is, and--

And then she opens his eyes, and he looks, if possible, even angrier at her hesitation. It's surreal--looking at him like this, so, so different and so tall but god, still the same--and it's all she can do to open her mouth, tears threateningly close to spilling, and, "Henry, I'm sorry," she whispers.

Henry throws his head back for a moment, then rakes his large hands in his hair. "God, I can't--Regina, remember what I said when I knocked on your apartment door? I told you not to mess with her--that either you want her or you don't--and you don't hurt her---"

All Regina wants to do is rush into him, plead with him, assure him that everything's alright, that Emma's only taking a walk to clear her head--but Jesus, she knows so much better. It's much worse, much worse, than Henry even thinks it is. "I know," she chokes out, then the tears are escaping. "Don't go--"

Henry flinches, drawing back; then he's snapping something that completely startles her. "And why the hell not? What's your deal with me?" He demands, then his eyes widen even further as he takes in her expression. "Why are you looking at me like that?!"

Regina steps back, then two steps, then three. "I'm sorry," she repeats, and it's all she can say. She has no response, nothing could ever appease this version of her son. Breath is coming in short supply, and it seems like the walls are closing in on her and she just wants her Henry--

Henry steps back as well, palms out. "Look. I know you have issues--I know--I saw his room--but don't you take that out on my mom." He warns, and Regina feels an almost physical blow to her stomach.

"His room?" She asks, and she's terrified of the answer.

"Your son---I'm sorry for your loss---but I don't want you to hurt her--"

"You saw...you saw my--son's room?" She's breathless; she's choosing her words extremely carefully, and all she can think is, oh, god, Henry saw his old room---

All Henry does is nod, and then they share eye contact for longer than what's comfortable, then Henry's repeating his warnings, pulling his hood over his hair, and a few moments later she hears the door slam again.

And then the former queen collapses in a fit of despair onto the couch cushion that Emma had occupied only an hour ago, drinking in the pine and flowers scent that still lingers. She draws her legs near her chest and curls her arms around her shins in a quite un-queenly position, dropping her head onto her knees, her hair curtaining her features. There she finally sobs, great hiccuping gasps that leave her entire body quaking violently, and she feels for the first time since she met Emma in New York, a complete wash of hopelessness that nearly suffocates her.

---

AN: okay, yes, I dished out another chapter really quickly! I'm so happy with myself right now. I told myself I would update before Tuesday, and I did.

Okay, here's the deal, you guys. On Tuesday, I'm leaving on a five-week vacation, but don't worry, I will definitely try and update while I'm gone. I do NOT intend to leave you all hanging on crazy angst like this. I just wanted to let you know that my schedule is interrupted and I will have FAR less free time, so I'll need patience from you guys. I WILL update while I'm gone. Don't freak out:)

Anyway, so, crazy chapter. Sorry for all that at the end, lol I get caught up when I write RegalBeliever angst. I love it too frickin much, mwuhaha.

As a friendly reminder, I do love happy endings. Hang in there. Vote and comment, please:)