A/N: In this AU, Hook never managed to bring Emma and Henry back to Storybrooke. They've been living in New York with their false memories for seven years. Zelena was defeated, and things in Storybrooke have quieted down ever since then.

I got the idea for the story from listening to "Always Starting Over" and "You Learn to Live Without" from the musical If/Then over and over again. I highly recommend them ("Here I Go" also has a Swan Queen feel).

The bells in the clock tower had been fixed years ago, but Regina still wasn't used to them. The man beside her slept peacefully through the chiming every night. Regina still slept, of course, but the bells broke through her dreams, a constant reminder that whatever she was thinking of wasn't real. Only Storybrooke was real, this bed, this marriage. This life that was becoming unbearable.

Tonight, she was wide awake. She stared up into the dark, counting along with the bells.

Ten, eleven, twelve. The world went silent again, aside from Robin's breathing, as if this midnight was the same as every other midnight.

It was Henry's eighteenth birthday, and Regina wasn't there.

She couldn't even imagine what he might look like now. Emma, she could picture, but not Henry. Not anymore. Henry would be off to college by now. He could be anywhere in the world, and that terrified Regina. She'd preferred to imagine him in New York, safe with the only other person who loved him as fiercely as she did.

Regina got out of bed slowly and quietly, careful not to wake Robin. She paused by what had been Henry's room, something small inside her breaking every time she looked at that door and reminded herself that it was Roland's now. That her little boy was gone.

She continued downstairs and into the kitchen, opening the container of cupcakes she'd made for Roland's school bake sale. Half chocolate for Roland, half vanilla for Henry. Just in case. She took one vanilla and set it on the counter, finding the birthday candle she'd hidden away earlier so that she wouldn't wake anyone by shutting cabinets so late.

Regina never used magic anymore. There wasn't much use, really. And while Robin hadn't forbid her from doing magic, he'd forbid her from doing it anywhere near his son. Regina hated him more for the fact that he'd said his son than for limiting her use of power. She'd been the only mother Roland had known, but Robin made sure to remind him that Regina was only a stepmother. Even after all of these years, the little boy was distant.

The little act of defiance came easily, the candle lighting magically without Regina really having to think about it. She watched the flame, thinking back through the eleven birthdays she'd been able to share with Henry, the seven she'd missed. Even though she didn't believe in wishes, she always wished happiness for Henry just in case.

"You're using magic."

Regina jumped at the sound of Robin's voice, not expecting anyone to interrupt her. "It's one of the most basic spells there is. It couldn't possibly go wrong." Well, maybe in the hands of Emma Swan, but Regina had years of practice and discipline.

"I don't care what kind of spell it is." Robin stormed across the kitchen and snuffed the candle between his fingers before Regina could make her wish. "All magic is dangerous, and you're using it right here in our house!"

"My house," Regina replied. She'd invited Robin and Roland in eagerly, but she was beginning to miss the days when it had been her impenetrable fortress, or when it had been Henry's home.

"Who it belongs to doesn't matter. You're putting my son's life in danger, and for what?

A midnight snack?"

Regina stood tall and looked Robin right in the eye. "It's Henry's birthday," she told him firmly.

Robin's expression shifted, more exasperated now than angry. "So you're putting Henry over Roland?"

"Henry is my son." Regina was beginning to outmatch his anger now. "Roland, as you so frequently remind me, is not."

"Henry was your son," Robin said cruelly.

Regina could feel the heat building in her fingertips like it always did when she was threatened or furious enough to retaliate, but she balled her hand into a fist. She would not be the monster Robin seemed to think she was. "Henry. Is. My. Son."

In a way, this almost reminded her of those early fights with Emma, and somehow that made Regina want Emma there with her. They'd changed, grown together. Before Emma left, they'd had what was beginning to feel like a real friendship, and a bit of a flirtation as well.

But Regina and Robin were growing apart. And he was saying these things only because he knew they'd hurt her. Emma had eventually acknowledged that Regina was a good mother to Henry, and Regina knew that she was an even better mother to Roland now that there was no curse to protect. Robin would never acknowledge that fact.

She needed to lash out somehow, so she took the cupcake and threw it hard onto the floor of her pristine kitchen.

It didn't matter anymore. She stormed past Robin and out the front door.

Regina kept driving even though she'd convinced herself miles ago that this was insane. She couldn't just drive through the night, all the way to New York.

She could never see the one she loved most again, but that meant Henry, not Emma. She could go find Emma. An Emma who would have no idea who she was.

But if she stopped now, she knew that she'd turn around, and that wasn't an option. Unless she had Emma and Henry in tow, she wasn't going back to Storybrooke. Now that Regina had let her anger and sadness loose she knew that she wouldn't be able to bottle it back up again. There was no going back to Robin.

She would miss Roland, her tree, and her parents' graves, but that was all. She no longer had a job to miss, since the people of Storybrooke had refused to reinstate her as mayor although she'd saved them all again and again. She had no real friends to speak of. Even Snow White had stopped checking in on her now that she had three small children to wrangle.

Regina was withering and dying in the house that had once filled her with so much pride. Roland was the age Henry had been when he decided he didn't need her anymore, and Robin had never needed her. At some point between Regina's second miscarriage and their fifth anniversary, they'd fallen out of love. But Regina felt worthless enough to stay.

It was like Leopold all over again, she'd realized. The stepchild that would always be prized over her, especially once she was unable to give birth to her own child. The neglect that followed. But this marriage was so much worse. She'd walked into it willingly, and she'd allowed herself to believe that she could be loved. She'd been stupid enough to keep hoping after a lifetime of all her hopes being dashed.

The worst part was that Regina knew she never would have gotten into this mess if Emma and Henry could have stayed. She would have thought the marriage through if it meant a new father and brother for her son. And while she didn't know what Emma would make of Robin, she would have been honest.

Robin might not have been an issue at all if Emma had stayed. Maybe what they were building towards in Neverland would have gone somewhere. But Regina tried not to think about the what ifs, and she didn't need a savior.

She was saving herself.

It was morning by the time an exhausted Regina reached New York. She got a hotel room just a few blocks from where Emma supposedly lived and, for once, fell asleep easily. And she slept deeply, the near constant ringing of her cell phone not enough to rouse her.

There were at least thirty missed calls when Regina blearily checked her phone in the afternoon, and about half as many messages. She went through them, pressing 7 and deleting each one as soon as she heard Robin's voice.

Hi, Regina.

That one was Roland, and Regina took her fingers away from the keypad.

I'm sorry you had to go away. I really hope you come back. I know you don't want to talk to Dad right now but if you want to send me an email or something I promise I won't tell. It's Roland, by the way. Come home soon.

Regina hung up immediately, holding the phone tight against her chest. Roland was the one person who could possibly change her mind. He'd said more to her in the phone message than he had in person in days, and Regina couldn't help wondering how he felt about her. Did he really miss her? Had Robin put him up to this?

She didn't let herself dwell on Roland for long. Despite sleeping, she needed caffeine. After a quick shower and picking a clean dress from the suitcase she'd conjured back in Storybrooke, she left the hotel and walked down the block until she found a bustling café. She managed to snag one of the few remaining chairs and sat down with her latte and sandwich.

Regina was flipping through a newspaper someone had left behind, trying to pretend that today was anything like normal, when she saw someone approaching her out of the corner of her eye. She focused harder on the words in front of her, trying to ignore the fact that the person stopped just beside her and lingered there.

"You stole my chair."

Regina kept her eyes on the paper for a second longer, trying to hide her rush of emotions. It had been seven years since she'd heard it, but she immediately recognized that voice. That irritating, wonderful voice. She looked up slowly, unable to keep from smiling.

Emma Swan, in a tasteful black leather jacket and jeans that, for once, didn't appear to be plastered onto her skin. There was a glint in her eyes that showed she was just kidding, but Regina played along. Mainly because she couldn't think of anything else to say.

"I didn't see your name on it."

Emma grinned over a cup piled high with whipped cream. "You don't even know my name."

Regina gestured at the cup, and Emma turned it to see her name scrawled across the cardboard. "Emma," she said, and the name felt perfect on her lips.

The blonde sank down into the chair beside Regina. "I'll let you have the chair just this once," she said, "but I'm going to sit here and glare at you until you feel uncomfortable and leave."

The old thrill of sparring with Emma sparked something in Regina, and she gave Emma a coy smile. "Try all you want, but you'll never win, Miss –" She thankfully caught herself before she could blurt out Emma's last name. "Miss Emma."

"That's Detective Emma to you," she retorted, picking up Regina's latte and turning the cup. "Regina. That's pretty." Emma didn't bother with the glaring, instead taking a sip of her cocoa. "I've never seen you here before, and I'm here a ridiculous number of times each day."

Regina just studied Emma for a moment, letting it sink in that she was actually here, inches away from Emma Swan. And, unless she was reading everything wrong, Emma was flirting with her. She blushed at the thought, glancing away. "I'm new in town."

Emma didn't press for more, although Regina could tell that she wanted to. The brunette returned to attempting to read her paper, but all of her focus was on every tiny movement Emma made, every little sound. "Hey," Emma said after a minute, and Regina looked up immediately. "Do you have any plans tonight?"

Regina arched an eyebrow. "Are you asking me out, Detective?"

Emma bit her lip and considered. "It doesn't have to be a date. It's just… it's my son's birthday, and every year we go out for a special dinner to celebrate. But he's a freshman in college and I'm kind of bummed that I can't see him this year." She shrugged, looking self-conscious, reminding Regina of Emma's occasional spells of insecurity about family or magic. "So I could stay home and feel sorry for myself, or I could drag a total stranger to my son's favorite restaurant."

Regina couldn't help thinking back to midnight and how alone she'd felt, how far away from Henry. "That sounds nice, actually."

"Yeah?" Emma grinned, reaching into a pocket in her jacket and pulling out a business card. She scribbled her number on the back before handing it over. "That's my cell phone. Meet me here at 7?"

Regina turned the card over. Detective Emma Swan, NYPD. "I'll see you tonight. Emma," she added, reveling in the name.

Emma looked back at Regina three times as she made her way towards the door.

Regina stopped short when she came within sight of the café and caught a glimpse of Emma waiting outside. The blonde was more stunning than ever in a short, black leather dress that hugged curves Regina didn't even know Emma had.

For once, Regina felt like she was the one who looked shabby, but Emma's smile at the sight of her was enough to chase away any insecurity. "Hey there," the blonde said, reaching out for Regina's hand. "You came."

"I had nothing better to do," Regina replied nonchalantly although she was anything but. Emma's hand in hers was the closest thing to magic there was in New York.

While Regina hadn't lied, she was pretty sure that Emma could see right through her as always. She smirked but said nothing, simply looping her arm through Regina's and starting them down the street. "You look gorgeous, by the way."

"I don't." Regina ran a hand through her hair, wishing she'd thought to pack the products that usually kept it sleek. She desperately needed to do some shopping and pick up some makeup, too, since all she had to work with was the small stash she kept in her purse for emergency touchups. "I hope I'm not underdressed," she added, gesturing to her jeans and a shirt unbuttoned over a camisole.

"It doesn't matter what you're wearing. When you have a face like that, you're always gorgeous." Emma gave Regina's arm a reassuring squeeze. "And believe me, my kid's favorite restaurant would never be a place that required dressing up."

"Well, you look…" Regina paused, not sure what word to use. Sexy certainly came to mind, but it was a little too blunt for her tastes. "Amazing."

When Regina stole a glance at Emma, she was happy to see that the other woman was beaming at the compliment. She kept that expression for several more blocks before stopping to open the door to a small Italian restaurant.

Regina was surprised that this was Henry's favorite restaurant. The dining area was dimly lit with only a handful of tables. Not particularly his style. Emma sat down across from her and didn't even bother to open the menu.

"Henry loves lasagna," Emma explained, and Regina set down her menu to look at her. "Just not when I make it. He swears this is the best he's ever had."

"Tell me about him," Regina urged, trying her best to keep the emotion out of her voice.

Emma smiled proudly, eager to gush about her son. "He is probably the smartest person I've ever met. He works so hard. I don't know where he got all that from, because it's certainly not genetics. He's a freshman at Stanford, which is just insane."

"That's incredible." Regina swelled with pride, although she didn't like to think of her little boy being so far away. But he wasn't her little boy anymore.

"He loves to read, loves to play video games. He has this great group of friends that have practically lived in our apartment since he met them." Emma winked at Regina. "I'm the cool mom."

"Of course you are."

Emma continued to talk on and on about Henry after they ordered, and Regina was thrilled that she was so forthcoming. She couldn't help wondering, though, if Emma was just trying to avoid talking about herself. So much was off limits: her childhood, her parents, the circumstances surrounding Henry's birth. Regina could relate, since there was practically nothing that she could tell Emma about herself.

Despite all their secrets, it was easy being together. Regina found herself watching Emma's every move. She'd never seen the blonde so happy and open, and the idea that the life Regina had created for Emma and Henry might be responsible made Regina feel lighter. Something good had come out of letting them go.

The past seven years no longer weighed on her so heavily. She'd done the right thing. And now, finally, she might be able to find her own happiness.

"You have to try," Emma said, reaching across the table with a forkful of lasagna.

Regina set down her own fork and leaned in to taste it. "Not bad," she said once she swallowed, "but I make better."

Emma raised an eyebrow. "If that's true, my kid is going to leave me for you."

Regina smiled tightly at that, taking a sip of her wine. If only Emma knew how wrong she was.

"Shit," Emma suddenly said, staring at Regina's wine glass and dropping her fork with a clatter. "You're married?"

Regina's heart plummeted along with Emma's as she set the glass down and looked at her simple wedding band. She quickly took it off and set it on the table. "Yes," she admitted, "but I left him."

Emma looked skeptical. "But you still wear the ring?"

"I left him last night. The ring never occurred to me. It was the middle of the night, I was rushing…"

"Whoa." Emma cut her off and Regina cringed as she waited to hear what the blonde had to say. There was no way she would approve of Regina leaving her family with all of her abandonment issues. But Emma only reached across the table and took Regina's now bare left hand. "Did he hurt you?" she asked, nothing but compassion in her eyes.

"No, of course not!" Robin may have made Regina unhappy in many ways, but he'd never laid a hand on her. She knew what it was like to be a battered wife, but that had ended decades ago with Leopold's assassination.

"Abuse doesn't have to be physical." Emma was rubbing her thumb in circles on Regina's hand, and it was instantly comforting. "People don't understand that emotional abuse is serious, too."

"He didn't abuse me."

"Regina, I work in Special Victims. I see this kind of thing every day, and people don't just rush away from their spouses in the middle of the night unless there's something really wrong." Emma leaned in closer. "Besides, I have this superpower. I can always tell when someone is lying."

Regina rolled her eyes. "If that's true, then you know he never touched me."

"But he didn't treat you right. He isolated you from friends and family, broke your confidence, and made you feel worthless."

The truth in Emma's words stung. "You can't get all that from some ridiculous superpower."

"I got it from established patterns." Emma smiled grimly. "Why did you come to New York? Do you have family here?"

"I came to find an old friend," Regina told her softly. "But I haven't seen her in years and she doesn't remember me."

"If you need somewhere to stay, Henry's room is empty," Emma offered, and Regina just wanted to cry at how wonderful that sounded.

"The hotel is just fine," she said anyway, the usual pride standing in the way.

"You shouldn't be alone." Emma let go of her hand, and Regina ached to have that contact again. "Although I understand if you don't want to go home with a total stranger."

"At least I know your full name," Regina pointed out. "I'm the total stranger."

Emma shook her head. "I see women like you every week, Regina. You're not a stranger." She shrugged, offering a meek smile. "And while I know this is totally reckless, I feel like I can trust you."

"You can." Regina stretched out her hand, and Emma easily took it again. "I'm Regina Mills."

"Well, Regina Mills." Emma ran her thumb over Regina's knuckles. "What do you want for dessert?"

Emma closed the door, leaving Regina alone in Henry's room, and despite herself Regina immediately had tears in her eyes.

There was a picture on the nightstand that must have been taken shortly after they left Storybrooke, eleven-year-old Henry laughing with Emma. This was what she'd given up, and although she knew she'd done the right thing, the thing Henry and Emma would have wanted, she couldn't help wishing that she'd gotten into the car with them and left Storybrooke to deal with Pan's curse without her.

There was so much more to take in as Regina circled the room. Clothing in the closet that amazed her with its size, his high school diploma framed on the wall, shelves brimming with books and comics. There were more photos of Henry at various ages, with Emma or with his friends, and one from prom with his arms around a pretty girl.

"Regina?" She jumped at the sound of Emma's voice, nearly knocking over a pile of papers on Henry's desk. "Do you need anything?"

Regina opened the door to find Emma in only an oversized Stanford t-shirt, hair back in a loose ponytail. The dress she'd worn earlier that night had looked incredible, but Regina couldn't help liking this more. "I'm all right. I have all my things." She gestured to the suitcase lying near the foot of the bed.

"I pulled out some towels in case you need them, and help yourself if you need something to eat or drink." Emma reached out and touched Regina's arm, smiling softly. "Sleep well. I'm right next door if you need me."

Regina leaned in and kissed Emma on the cheek, not daring to try for more. "Goodnight," she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper, before closing the door between them.

She got into Henry's bed, disappointed that it didn't smell like him. Or maybe it did, but not the little boy smell she'd been used to. Still, the fact that she had some sort of connection with him in this moment was enough.

There were no bells and no dreams, and Regina slept soundly through the night.