So here we are. This is it. The end.

Exactly two years after I posted the first chapter, here comes the finale. At last.

Thank you for sticking with me on this ride, the biggest writing project I've undertaken to date. Thank you for the follows, favourites, and especially the reviews that so often made my day. At the off-chance that someone's been with me from the very beginning, congratulations on your gigantic patience, and humungous thanks for your support.

I hope you enjoyed this journey, and that you find the last leg a worthy conclusion of it (heaven knows I've sweated plenty of tears and blood trying to do it justice:)).

I'll be happy to hear from you either in my inbox or you can come find me on tumblr under bianka-bee.

Onwards to the finish line it is! :)

It was a while before Regina even realised she was on her hands and knees. Sheer exhaustion made it near impossible to move her leaden limbs but she did manage to raise her head, blink back the dark circles inhibiting her vision, and take in her surroundings. The throne room was gone, the walls lined with stacks of hay instead of bejewelled coats of arms, packed dirt where there'd been marble floors.

And a gaping hole in the ground.

Magic was pouring out of the hellish mouth, spilling out in clouds of green and lingering above ground. Something moved behind the smoky curtain, an oddly disfigured shape. For a brief moment her overtired brain drowned in images of winged beasts. Then one of the shapes uncurled, flexed, straightened its spine, and as the smoke settled, Regina made out a pair of jeans and a turtleneck. Modern garments.

The portal seethed and sizzled as it continued to regurgitate what it had once swallowed. The barn began to fill with people, men and women and children. Regina sat back on her heels, too weak and far too ancious to stand.

She waited.

As Mayor and as Queen, she knew many in her town by sight at least, but it wasn't until much later that the first truly familiar face appeared. Archie coughed and sputtered as he emerged from a plume of smoke. Others followed, disoriented at first, then frantically searching and, eventually, hugging each other vigorously. Ruby was there, and Granny, dropping her trusty crossbow unceremoniously to clutch her granddaughter to her. There came Snow now, all creased and dishevelled in her hospital gown, looking around with wild eyes. For her baby. For both of her children. Even as Regina started towards Snow, the floodgates of her own suppressed worries broke wide open.

Henry.

"Where is he?" Regina shouted through the tumult of the ever thickening crowd. Snow reached for her in a would-be calming gesture but her fingers dug into Regina's arm in a fitful, anxious cramp instead. The baby would be fine, would be with David. But Emma and Henry were never part of the time warp. Glinda had assured Regina they'd be unharmed, but her plan hadn't had the bastardisation of Zelena's spell factored in. As things stood, there was no knowing how the spell had affected them.

Regina slipped from Snow's reach and her pleading gaze into the thick of the masses, scanning faces, elbowing and, yes, even shoving people out of the way. She'd just saved their skins, surely they could take this much, and if they couldn't, she didn't give a damn.

The crowd rippled and threw her to the side. Something launched itself at her back, encircled her waist and pulled her backward, its grip like a vise.

But careful. Loving.

She didn't hear his shouted Mom!, didn't see his face, but she did feel his head fall against her shoulder and the tickle of his hair. Henry, she repeated over and over, Henry, Henry, Henry, probably just as unheard to him as his words had been to her. Once he realised why she was struggling ever so gently, he slackened his hold enough for her to turn and wrap him in a tight embrace. For once, Regina did not bother wiping her tears away.

By the time the room came back into view, the spacious barn threatened to bust at the seams. No one seemed to have enough presence of mind to head out into the open. Perhaps Regina should do something to organise them. The instinct was there, but her willingness to let go of Henry was beneath low. Thankfully, Doc chose that precise moment to begin to tap shoulders and herd people out. The rest of the dwarfs stood huddled by the wall, with one still missing. Leroy, no doubt—he would have been one of the first to the barn, ever eager for the latest news, and so since the portal seemed to be spitting them out in reverse order, the dwarfs would have to wait a while for their seventh brother.

But no one would have to wait longer than Regina.

If he'd—if Robin had—her mind even skipped the dreadful word died—in the other universe, would that make him—dead—here? Would the spell reversal undo any harm he'd come to under it? There was no telling.

Henry took her hand and squeezed. And didn't let go as they watched David climb out of the portal, a one-handed grip on a bundle the sight of which elicited a shrill cry from Snow. Emma had materialised from somewhere, grinned from amid the Charming family reunion when she caught Regina's eye. Regina managed a half-smile. Things were finally settling back to the way they should be…

But someone was still missing.

The smoke billowed again, thinned and hung in clusters over a dark form at the very edge of the portal. Regina stumbled forward on jittery legs.

"R—Robin?"

She never felt the impact as she threw herself over him, never registered the scrape of the rough floor against her skinned knees.

A deathly pallor clung to Robin's face. Regina ran a hand over his cheek, skimmed his temple, brushed his stubble. She drew a sharp breath when she came upon an angry bump on his nape—the helmet seemed to have done more harm than good. There was no sign of the green armour now, just the same pants and jacket he'd worn before Zelena's abomination of a spell. Copious amounts of dried blood stuck to his shirt. Regina's insides coiled with dread. The sound of tearing fabric reverberated in her ears as she felt around for the wound.

There was none.

She struggled to loosen the scarf around his neck, sought for the slightest hint of a pulse with clammy, jerky hands.

Please be alive. Please.

She pressed down more, just a touch harder. There, right there, could that be—?

Thump. Thump-thump.

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks, had probably brimmed over a good while earlier, but none of that mattered. Not the sting of cold that bit with extra force where the tears had left salty tracks, not the muffled voices that registered only barely, not the intense cramping of her legs as she remained twisted on the floor with her fingers digging into Robin's shoulders.

He was alive!

She should heal him, maybe she could heal him, if she would only get a grip and do something useful instead of just breathing him in while releasing shuddering sobs into his shoulder. Her brain, in a voice entirely too faint to get through the turbulent emotions gripping her, knew any such attempt would most likely be futile anyway, what with the ever elusive nature of healing magic combined with Regina's utter exhaustion.

A hand rested on the small of her back. Regina froze. Whoever would attempt to console her now, to pry her away from him, would be in for a harsh rebuttal. But no such thing happened. No one was trying to pull her away, quite the contrary. The hand moved up and down her spine once, twice, slowly, with just enough pressure to soothe, just enough warmth to quell the shivers.

Robin.

She didn't look up, didn't dare look up just in case it wasn't true after all. So she kept her eyes shut, her nose buried in his neck, her arms tight around him.

Quiet. Waiting. Hoping.

Fingers weaved into her hair, tugged ever so gently, carded through the tresses again. She didn't need her name whispered into her ear (his voice!) to know for certain. They held each other in silence because there was nothing to be said right now, nothing that needed saying. Just relief. And hope.

Someone was talking, however. Neither him not her, but it was so hard to make out the voice and even harder to focus on the words, and none of it even mattered half as much as his chest rising and falling with each shallow breath did. Fingers curled around her arm, someone pleaded Regina and she only wanted to shake them off, did just that, but then someone else said Mom, and she'd never ever ignore him. She looked up at last, vaguely registered the Charmings standing over her and a person huddled mere steps away at the smoldering mouth of the portal…someone with flaming hair…but maybe that was just the lights.

Flashing red lights, and then hands were reaching and ripping him from her, again, and Regina reeled for a fight she wasn't fit to fight right now but try she would. And then she, too, was being ushered into the waiting ambulance, clutching Robin's hand as doctors and nurses did whatever it was they could do for him on the way to the hospital.

And it would all be alright because Robin was no longer unconscious, would not stop running his thumb over her knuckles, would not tear that blue-eyed gaze from her equally watery brown one.

The sun was only just rising when Regina pulled up at the sheriff station. Exhausted but entirely too buzzed with emotions and nagging thoughts, she had no thought of sleep. Presumably, neither did Zelena. With Robin decidedly out of danger and lost to drug-induced slumber in a pristine recovery room, it was time for Regina to face her sister again.

She couldn't help a smirk at the sight of Emma sprawled in the chair behind her desk, mouth agape and snoring. The sheriff didn't so much as stir at the sound of Regina's heels clacking. Well, at least someone had no trouble sleeping.

"Emma." Regina shook her by the shoulder.

Nothing. What if—?

Regina's eyes narrowed, sought out the indistinct form in the far corner of the cell. Much like Emma, Zelena did nothing whatsoever to acknowledge Regina's presence.

"Miss Swan!"

Emma jerked awake and looked around wildly, hand on her gun. Not that that would have helped had Regina had hostile intentions.

"Regina," Emma relaxed visibly, then frowned again. "Everything okay? How's Robin?"

"He'll be fine. They're keeping him in for observation because of the head injury but Whale," Regina grimaced, would have preferred someone more trustworthy to look after Robin, "says he'll most likely just sleep it off."

"I'd like some time with her."

"Right. I'll go grab some breakfast." Emma slipped into her jacket without further ado, then turned in the door. "David'll be in in about an hour."

"Thank you."

Regina looked around. The shutters didn't let much in in the way of light, only shafts of dawn peppered with dancing specks of dust. She placed a chair in front of the cell and sat facing Zelena, who still wasn't more than a silent, motionless shadow in the darkness of the jail.

"It seems I owe you an apology," Regina began and suppressed a smile when Zelena leaned forward at the unexpected words. "For a moment there, I thought that," she gestured towards the desk, which probably still had leftover drool on it judging by Emma's blissfully oblivious sleep during shift, "was your doing."

"I have no magic anymore," Zelena spat.

Regina's fingers closed around the broken emerald in her pocket.

"It was contained in the blasted pendant," Zelena confirmed the unvoiced suspicion, the wishful premise Regina had based that last desperate attempt to undo the spell on. "Every last bit of it. Isn't it marvellous? The only thing that ever made me special, that made me somebody, and I gave it up to cast a curse that brought me nothing in the end."

The heart of the thing you love most. Of course, Zelena had had to use something to cast the Dark Curse back in the Enchanted Forest, and the riddle had caused Regina many an hour of reflection. Whom could Zelena have loved enough? Herself, it now turned out, or rather a part of herself. Her magic was, had been, elemental. Until she'd given it away in exchange for a curse. She'd been lucky, and skilled, Regina had to concede, to have been able to retain her magic while it was still locked in the pendant. Once the pendant was destroyed, so was the time warp, and so was all of Zelena's magic.

"Your people hated me." Zelena's attempt at scorn came out the whine of a petulant child instead.

"My people?" Did she mean the Charmings? Regina's parents? Or—she shuddered at the very thought—Leopold?

"The peasants," Zelena spat. "The common folk. The ungrateful riff-raff. Did you know they called me the Wretched Queen? What a lovely pair we are: Wretched and Evil. Evil and Wicked."

A punch in the gut. That's what each moniker felt like, that's what sent Regina's hand to her belly in an oh so familiar gesture, arms wrapping around her torso. Evil and Wicked, indeed.

No.

No, that wasn't all they were. Neither of them should be reduced to just a label, to have the rest of their stories, the rest of their persons, erased. Even despite the destruction, despite the terror, the images of which now floated back to the surface of her mind.

"You terrorised your people," Regina said. Not an accusation, not quite. A rebuke, perhaps. A call for self-awareness, most definitely. "You made them starve and burn and live like animals."

"You're one to talk."

"Perhaps I'm not." Really, who was she to talk? A villain on the path of redemption, even though she'd never truly reach it. "I was many things in my day, Zelena," Regina sighed, "but at least I tried to rule well."

"Ah, I see. So you were a good queen, then?"

"I tried to be," Regina said with a dull ache in her chest. Because she had, she really had, for a long time. Especially after Leopold's death, when the full weight of reign descended upon her shoulders and the actual state of the kingdom and the treasury was revealed. Leopold had been a fairly popular king, but at a dear price, and hadn't it been for Regina's harsh, largely unpopular, but necessary measures, things would not have picked up the way they had. "I wasn't set on ruining the kingdom, only Snow White. At least in the beginning."

"Did they love you for it?"

"No."

The silence stretched long, each of them lost in thought, each in their own separate world: Regina ever pensive, ever reassessing, and Zelena—who knew?

It wasn't until the muffled roar of the engine announced David's arrival that Zelena spoke again.

"Isn't it ironic, Regina? Even living your life, mine turned out wretched. Yours, on the other hand? Even starting out as me, you gained yourself a lover, a friend, allies."

Regina's heart was caught between soaring and sinking. Yes, in a manner of speaking, she had done all those things. And the great desire Zelena had chased all her life of stealing Regina's life for herself had turned to dust in Zelena's hands. Regina knew the feeling, and the sheer bitterness of it made rejoicing over her present victory impossible.

"We make our own choices, Zelena. Circumstances are a great, sometimes damning, factor… But if you continue to solely blame those—well, look what it gained you. Look what it gained the both of us."

"And look at you, all repentant. You make me sick, Regina." Zelena pulled the thin blanket tighter around her frame. "Leave me.

Robin's third day in hospital was pure torture to him. The idleness was driving him crazy, yet Whale was refusing to release him. Regina, ever uneasy around the man since she'd learnt of his betrayal back in the Enchanted Forest, had swallowed her pride and asked Doc for a second opinion. Much to their chagrin, he, too, agreed that Robin's mild but lingering symptoms merited further medical attention.

"I'd be just as well in your care," he groaned when a nurse wheeled in his lunch—a thin broth and cold pasta with some sorry excuse for sauce. "Better, in fact."

"You are in my care," she reminded him as she dumped the food straight into the wastebasket, making a mental note to include improved hospital meal quality in her mayoral endeavours. Henry appeared just in time with a bowl of soup and warmed up lasagna Regina'd whipped up that morning, Roland in tow and balancing a bowl of jelly in each small hand.

Regina sat at Robin's side while he one-handedly (he wasn't exactly willing to relinquish the hold on her hand if he could help it, not that she was complaining)wolfed down the lasagna (at least his appetite was definitely back to normal) and munched on the jelly, most of which he eventually surrendered to Roland's puppy eyes. She groaned as Henry put on Finding Nemo for the second time, allegedly for Roland's sake but she didn't miss the twinkle in her rapidly growing son's eyes. Robin pulled her close, snuggled into her side with his eyes shut. Too much television could make his symptoms worse, and he'd do anything to make sure his stay at Storybrooke General would remain as short as possible. But he'd keep casting her sideways glances, would keep forgetting himself and stare openly at her face while wearing that look—and she'd always notice because, well, she couldn't tire of seeing him there right next to her, safe if not quite sound yet.

That look would remain with her even as she later washed Roland's fingers sticky with raspberry gelatin; would linger even as she tucked both boys in for the night; would be most prominent when she nestled under her covers, wondering what it would be like with him next to her. And smiling shamelessly because in a few nights, he might be—he would be there next to her. That look would be the last thing she saw before she drifted off.

The love in his eyes.

Whenever she wasn't bunked up at the hospital or with the boys, or perhaps having lunch with Snow (who'd have thought?), her feet would take her to the sheriff station.

Slowly, painstakingly, Regina managed to wheedle more out of Zelena, pieced together the scraps of information until the Wretched Queen's story unravelled before her. Through her own experience, Regina saw past Zelena's sarcasm to the bitterness, past the anger to the injury, past the haughtiness to the misery. Sometimes words spilled freely, sometimes it was what remained left unsaid that revealed the most.

Their childhoods had been almost identical now, what with two sets of memories, real and fake, for each. Almost, but not quite. Zelena had embraced Cora's plans to make her queen, had drunk in all Cora attempted to teach her. Never questioned, never defied, never desired anything else. The rift came soon enough, however, once Cora expressed her strong disapproval of Zelena continuing her magical tuition with none other than her own teacher of old, Rumplestiltskin. Through the looking glass Cora went, and Zelena straight to the palace to claim the much coveted place of queen.

There'd been no Daniel to mourn, no light to slowly fade out of her under the succession of tragedies. No, Zelena embraced darkness head on, thrived on it. But she wasn't happy. Her tutor seemed to remember, or at least retain some consciousness of reality—enough to remain uninterested in his apprentice, never quite as thrilled by her potential as she'd have him be, never bestowing the kind of praise or fondness upon her that Zelena so badly craved in that life and this.

The Leopold of Zelena's world seemed remarkably unchanged, so much so that Regina fought the urge to flee the sheriff station on multiple occasions, reminded herself that the terrible memories Zelena's story roused were just that: memories. He'd met much the same fate, too, a fact Regina wasn't altogether certain was supposed to make her feel better or worse, only he died at Rumple's hand this time, under the influence of the Dark One's dagger.

Snow White was neglected, despised, and banished, only to be brought back once Zelena devised an even more atrocious fate for the princess: a marriage to prince James, the son of that cold, calculating bastard George. At which point Snow fled the castle to seek out her true love, David, and stumbled upon Regina.

"What about the kingdom?" Regina wondered. "What did they do to incur your wrath?"

"Why, Regina, the same thing they did to you. They never liked me. Yet they loved that pathetic little snowflake. I just punished them harder for it."

"You're awfully quiet tonight, milady."

Despite the heavy thoughts, a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

"I went to see my sister again."

Robin waited, rubbing circles across her back as they lay huddled together on the narrow hospital bed. Regina closed her eyes and let herself melt into his touch.

"She—she's so—" What? A thousand words could follow, each of them true, yet none of them quite accurate. Bitter? Spiteful? Despondent? "—empty."

Yes, that was it, wasn't it? And wasn't that what the Dark Curse was supposed to do? Leave a hole in your heart you'd never be able to fill?

"You want to help her."

"Yes." Regina shifted closer, draped his arm over her, let out a deep breath. "But it's—It's hard. It took me years, decades…" She huffed in frustration. "I just don't know how."

She'd figure something out, though.

"You're back."

Was it just her or did Zelena actually sound vaguely—pleased?

Perhaps she was reading too much into this, perhaps she just wished it to be true.

When had it come to matter so much?

A long time ago, if she was being honest with herself. Zelena was all the family Regina had left—well, not really, that was no longer true, but she was the only blood relative she had left, and they shared a bond that was much more than blood. They had a past, things that they'd done and things that had been done to them, and that past would haunt them both. But Regina was so much closer to moving on—was already, finally, moving on with her life. Zelena had so much further to go yet, had yet to make that first step. She needed to want to make it.

"I don't feel like chit-chatting about my awful life today, so if that's what you had in mind, you might as well go."

Regina didn't move. "Not the past then. Let's talk about your future. What do you want?"

"I thought my many attempts to ruin your life would have made that clear." The venomous edge was entirely lost to the dejection Zelena's voice was laced with.

"No, that's just a means to an end. What do you really want? Not for me, not for anyone—for yourself."

Zelena gave her an odd, suspicious look, long and searching, then turned away without a word.

Regina waited.

At long last, when she was just about admitting defeat, Zelena spoke, her face still averted.

"I want…to forget."

Forget. So that was it. A fresh start. A blank page. A clean slate. Not unlike what Regina had procured for herself by means of the Dark Curse, and yet worlds apart. Because she'd kept her memories intact, always. The pain and suffering she'd have easily let go, had at various points in her life yearned to erase from her mind, but with the bad she'd have had to let the good go as well. The happy memories. Rare and precious flashes from her childhood and youth of moments when she was allowed to be young and free, memories of Daniel and later of Henry. No matter how brief or how tragic their outcome, she'd never been ready to part with those. That alone, and the fact that Zelena seemed to have no such thing to outweigh the bad, stirred within Regina a surge of searing pain on Zelena's behalf. Regina fought to clear all such evidence from her face, remembering too well how badly she'd respond to displays of pity.

"That could be arranged," she managed with practised calm.

"With a memory potion?" Zelena scoffed. "With my luck, someone falls in love with me just to kiss me and bring back my misery."

"Something more potent than a regular memory potion."

For the first time since Regina's visits, Zelena rose from the bed, stepped forward, and regarded her from between the bars. For the first time in a long time, there seemed to be a spark of life returned to her eyes. A question and a new kind of hunger, or hope, or both. It was at the same time heartening and unnerving, knowing the cause of Zelena's transformation.

"Just don't make a hasty decision," Regina added, and realised only too late how much more it resembled a plea than it did a warning.

Zelena didn't catch on, though, for once didn't mock Regina for her troubles. Her fingers curl around the bars, knuckles white, fingernails bitten down to the quick.

"What do I have to think back on with affection?"

Regina opened her mouth, then closed it. She didn't have answer. She didn't have a single thing to offer, and for a moment she could almost have laughed at herself, for her stupid desire to make things better with empty encouragements when she had on so many occasions cursed Snow for trying to do just that for her. So instead of false rainbows, she offered a harsh, thorny path, the same one she was travelling.

"You could try to pick up the pieces and build yourself anew."

Zelena's enraptured expression melted away, her grip on the bars slackened, and she leaned against them heavily.

"I don't think that's possible."

Regina stepped closer, curled a hand around a cold iron bar just inches from where Zelena's was resting.

"Neither did I," she said softly.

"And now you do."

"Maybe." Yes. Yes, she did. As much as it still surprised her, she was finally allowing herself that. "But even the possibility is more than I'd once dared hope for. It might be the same for you, if you let it."

"Oh, and then what?" She leaned forward, pressed her face in between the bars, and cocked her head in derision: "You want us to be family?"

The receptive, approachable Zelena was gone again; the mask had gone back up. There would be no more talking to her now.

But that didn't mean Regina wouldn't try in the future. This was personal in a way she was not quite ready to admit, felt like a debt of sorts she owed to herself and to those gracious enough to have given Regina her (umpteenth) second chance. Perhaps she could help Zelena—no one was in a better position to do so, at any rate.

"Think about it," she said as she made sure the enchantments to keep all vengeful citizens from getting a hold of Zelena in her cell still held. "I'll be back."

The usual sarcastic send-off never came. Just a long, hard look, and a wordless nod.

It was a start.

All the world had gathered at Granny's, and for once Regina felt every bit a part of that world.

Their booth was somewhat crowded, but happily so. Wedged between Henry and Roland, Regina listened to their animated conversation. At the rate things were going and the level of enthusiasm Roland was responding with, she was already picturing herself on a search for Henry's outgrown Hulk costume for the littlest comics aficionado in the family. Baby Neal, her brand new godson, was gurgling happily in her arms. Emma and Hook had volunteered to pick up another round of drinks for the table. David relinquished the charming, chivalrous streak in favour of canoodling with his wife right there in Regina's very plain sight. But where she had once desired a Sleeping Curse to doctor the problem, she made do with an eyeroll this time. It was only when Robin chose that precise moment to reappear behind her with a greeting that sounded an awful lot like "love" and leaned in for a light kiss that she responded to without a second thought that Regina realised perhaps she had no right to even that eyeroll anymore. Her cheeks grew hot and her heart fluttered pleasantly.

Ruby worked her way to the table, balancing two trays of mostly empty glasses and a single plate that she placed into what little space was left in front of Regina.

"I don't think we ordered these."

"They're on the house. Granny insists."

Regina blinked. Granny was famous for remembering everyone's favourite orders, but Regina hadn't had this one here in ages. Yet the woman hadn't forgotten her passion for apple pancakes and had even gone to the trouble of making her a fresh batch on a hopelessly busy night.

Before she had time to respond, Ruby grinned knowingly and turned to elbow her way through the crowd again.

Regina repositioned Neal on her lap and prodded the pancakes with the fork. The toddler wiggled restlessly and grabbed at her hand. Regina reached for his bottle with a chuckle and bounced him on her knee a few times.

"It suits you," a voice rang over the crowd as its owner pushed through to the table.

Regina glanced Robin's way, but he was too preoccupied with Henry's commentary on the latest Marvel film (they might need to look for an adult-sized Hulk costume later to match Henry's old tiny one) to catch Tinkerbell's entirely inappropriate remark. The fairy slid into the booth, defying the very laws of physics by fitting into the incredibly small space. She said no more, but looked pointedly at Robin, then back at Regina again, with an unmistakable I-told-you-so expression on her beaming face.

"I meant happiness," winked Tink. "But the baby looks good on you, too."

Happiness.

Was this-? Was she-?

"I need a minute," she muttered as she handed Neal over to a baffled Tink and fled from the diner.

It wasn't long before Robin came looking for her, and for a moment Regina wished it were someone—anyone—else. Maybe even Snow full of concern and questions and well-meaning advice—just not Robin. She wasn't ready to face Robin just yet.

But there he was, his light step ever closer to where she was sitting in a dark corner, the music and laughter from inside faint in her ears, and the smell of pine when he reached her made her mouth twitch and stomach clench.

"Regina?"

He pulled up a chair to join her after she gestured resignedly that it was fine for him to do so.

"What is it?" he prompted gently, and she gave a humourless laugh.

He was offering her this, love and support and understanding if she'd only let him, and she didn't think she could handle it. The yearning to have this, and the guilt of wanting such a thing in the first place. The fear of losing it, and the agonising thought that she deserved no better. Accepting and rejecting him seemed equally impossible.

"I'm a monster," she croaked at long last.

"Wh- What?"

"I am, and if this thing between us were to continue, you'd see it soon enough." That snapped him out of the initial shock, but Regina didn't wait to hear the reassurances he was clearly about to offer. Why prolong her agony? "You just don't see it now," she fought the hitch in her voice, the involuntary thought of because you love me plunging a flaming knife through her thumping heart, "because you don't want to, but in Zelena's world, you could never- You said you couldn't forgive—"

He'd said he couldn't ever forgive such darkness, that he believed such vice irredeemable, and he might have been a different Robin then, so perhaps she wasn't being entirely fair here, but the fact of the matter remained. The flaws of ones you cared for were easy to overlook at first, but would become impossible to ignore in time. Hers were just too much to tolerate.

Her eyes burned as she stared at the smooth green table (even the stupid colour pained her right now, for it seemed she could avoid Robin's eyes but not a reminder of him even in a thing as mundane as furniture), until Robin snatched up her hand with an urgency that made her gasp in surprise, and pressed it to his heart.

"No. Regina, no. I was bitter and angry and hurting and Zelena, as bad as she was for the kingdom, was a convenient target for all that. I couldn't fight Marian's illness, but I could fight her. I could project all my darkest feeling on her."

"But you said-"

"And now I'm saying that the woman I know is the furthest thing from a monster. That she's left the past in the past, where it belongs. That her future is in her hands and hers alone, and she can make it anything she likes."

Every word he spoke was stressed by the beating of his heart, a forceful thump thump against her palm as he grew increasingly desperate to make her see, to help her understand. And she was weak, so weak and desperate for those words to be true, for her to be deserving of this. And it dawned on her then, as her own heartbeat sped up into sync with his, that they were both too far gone.

"You say a lot," she objected weakly.

Robin saw then that he'd won, at least for now.

"Is that a complaint?" he feigned injury, succeeding once again to coax the stirrings of a smile onto her face. "If so, I can think of other uses to put my mouth to."

Oh, she didn't doubt that.

"Ones I will appreciate, I hope."

"Shall we try?"

Frantic still, Regina grabbed him by the jacket and pulled him into a fierce kiss, forging her fear and insecurities into a singing passion that soon had the both of them panting. His hands came to rest on her cheeks, fingers weaving into her hair, cradling her face as he kissed her troubles away (as he would always try to do, either with words or touches or both), first with sensuous passes of tongue against tongue, then with soft, gentle pecks.

Even once they parted they didn't go far, foreheads ever touching in a gesture she'd come to cherish and seek comfort in. Her nerves calming with each passing moment, she breathed him in with relish.

Then he sent her heart racing again.

"I love you."

Her stomach dropped just as her heart threatened to burst out of her chest, and for a wild moment she thought the two conflicting emotions, elation and dread, would tear her apart as they vied for dominance.

"What?" she faltered pathetically, biding her time.

But Robin had other ideas, misunderstood her intentions perhaps, for he wouldn't let her speak but continued with renewed fervour.

"And you don't get to tell me I'm wrong, or that I'm fooling myself about who you really are. I know of your past, but Regina, I literally held your heart in my hands. Several times. I've seen you with your son, and mine, and with people who'd once been your enemies but who are now anything but." He rubbed their noses together, then looked her square in the eye with so much feeling that tears sprang into them. "I love you, Regina."

She nodded once and bit her lip, offering no argument, searching for something to say in return. She knew what he wanted, wished she could return those words to him because the feeling was mutual, and he deserved to hear, to know.

"I- I'm afraid," she whispered instead. "Things tend to fall apart around me—at least they always did before. And it's not that I don't want to believe this could turn out well. It's just that that's not exactly my forte. I'm not good at—hope."

"Aren't you? Regina, you've already taken a leap of faith—at least three times in our history only."

And in three different realms: the Enchanted Forest first, then here in Storybrooke, and finally in Zelena's warped alternate universe. All three times, they'd found their way to each other. All those times she'd decided to take the plunge.

But there was something different about the here and now, about this quiet moment uninterrupted by monsters and curses.

"No oncoming doom this time."

"None."

"Robin…"

"How about we start with little things and see from there? A walk in the moonlight. A picnic by the fire. Ice-cream with the boys. Think about it?"

He was trying so hard—trying not to push her, but also not to lose her, and gods, he really did love her. But for all his love, he wouldn't ask more of her than she was ready to give. And it was then, as he caressed her face with those oh-so-blue eyes and traced her jaw with gentle fingers, that she knew for sure.

She was done running.

"I don't need to. Think about it, I mean."

"You don't?"

"No. I want all those things." Cautious still: "We'll see from there. Is that good enough for you?"

If she had any doubts left as to whether she was making the right choice, they all disappeared the moment his face lit up.

"Plenty," he mumbled against her lips, and she chuckled into the kiss.

"Good," she grinned as she pulled away after a moment, much to his consternation. "But there's something else."

She thought of a fear-driven thief and a grief-stricken queen, of sons lost and found again, of hearts locked away and stolen nonetheless. Of missed chances and second chances, mistakes and amends and fresh starts, friends turned enemies and enemies turned friends. Of families and how they can be not one but many different things, and be none the worse for it. She thought of first meetings and an undeniable, unbreakable connection between soulmates no matter what realm they found themselves in.

Her voice wavered when she spoke the words, small yet so huge, but her heart leapt in triumph.

"I love you, too."

She'd never thought such things were real, or that they could be real for her ever again, not since she was a girl who'd lost so much—yet this was one of those incredibly cheesy moments, when his face beamed so much it lit up the night, and her heart and gut did all those sappy things you read about in cheap paperback novels (not that she'd ever admit to reading such garbage)—except they were true and delicious and theirs. Until—

"Papa! Regina! Hurry up or you'll miss the cake!" Then, the moment he spotted them in a tight embrace and an unmistakable lip-lock, Roland retreated back inside with a pronounced eeew and the righteous disgust of a five-year-old.

They laughed as they sorted themselves out a little and, all flushed and giddy (she, Regina Mills, former Evil Queen, flushed and giddy from kisses), entered the diner just in time to catch Roland's loud complaining because Papa and Regina were doing the kissy thing again. Regina felt her cheeks flame at Tink's triumphant, Snow's elated, and Henry's half-embarrassed look—but there was a smile tucked at the corner of her son's mouth that made her relax instantly. She pulled Robin into their booth without meeting anyone's eye but also not letting go of his hand, and once they had a semblance of privacy, decorum be damned, planted one on him for good measure.

Just because she could.

This, right here, being surrounded by a roomful of love and acceptance, felt good, and safe, and home. With a little hope and a lot of work, she might get to hold on to it this time.

She was finally ready.

Because some things…some people were simply worth taking a leap of faith for. Worth taking a leap into the dark with. These were her people now, her family, and whatever life had in store (and there was never a boring day in Storybrooke anymore), they would take on together.