Regina lowered the dreamcatcher from her eye. It was dead now. Cold and lifeless. Download complete, files not copied but transferred, slotting back into her memory like they'd never left. As she'd watched, the feelings, the sensations of those memories had flooded back in. She'd recalled the smell of Emma, the feel of Camelot's stones, the taste of its wine. Now it all receded into the back of her mind, where it belonged, leaving her back in the present. Storybrooke. This… cavern of Emma's where things festered beneath the surface.

It was only right for her to be there.

"Do you hate me yet?" Emma asked. Regina had been vaguely aware of her before, thinking it was part of the memories—that familiar presence. It was and it wasn't. Seeing those memories had made her suddenly, shockingly aware of the old Emma, the real Emma—hyper-attuned to her like a bloodhound with a scent. She could feel that Emma now, hiding behind the Dark One's garb. All that darkness… just to protect her from Regina.

"I could never hate you," Regina said. She actually smiled. "Lost the knack for it."

Emma threw up her hands. Their shared weariness almost made them allies again. "Then what was the point of all this?"

"You tell me, Emma. And if it was all so Henry could have another chance with that girl…"

Emma ducked her head, burying her smile out of sight. Like it hurt and she didn't want Regina to see her bleed. "Like I said. I want you to hate me. That's the only way either of us will ever be happy. If you don't love me. If you kill me." She nodded her head to the side. "There's Excalibur. It's a whole now. Particularly good for killing villains."

Regina didn't even acknowledge that. Ignored it like it was something not-too-rude Henry had said under his breath. "Do you hate me?"

"I could kill you." Emma raised her hand, a spell on her fingertips. "It would be easy. Like snapping a twig. Only… you're…"

"You won't hurt me," Regina said, with a kind of sympathy. She knew that anger. The anger she'd held for Snow White, the anger when you were wounded, but you didn't want to repay the wound. All you really wanted to do was to heal it with something, anything. "You can't."

She'd never wanted to hurt Snow. Not really. She'd wanted to fix herself and thought evening the scales—whatever they were—would do it. And while she wouldn't have wished that hurt on anyone… of course it would be this way. Of course they'd end up here. Her, the only one who could understand. The sinner now, not the martyr.

"I did hurt you!" Emma snarled, her face changing like armor clanging into place. "I brought you and Robin back together only to force you to break your own heart again! I erased your memories! I tormented you, I mocked you!"

"So ask to be forgiven," Regina said. "Because I will. Did you think you could go so far into the darkness that I wouldn't forgive you? That you wouldn't be my friend?"

"My friend," Emma sneered. She paced, feet digging into the gravel like daggers. "Do I hate you? I'm angry with you. I'm so damn angry with you, Regina, I don't know what to do with it! I don't know how I could let someone hurt me this much. I don't know how I could care about someone enough to let them—I shouldn't!"

Regina could hear it in her voice. It sounded more broken, more ugly than ever—a rusting, grinding machine just about to fall apart. She was tired. Whatever she'd hoped to accomplish, it wasn't working. The walls she put up weren't staying between her and Regina. The heart she'd tried to entomb was still beating.

"I'm sorry," Regina said. "I should've been honest with you. Told you how I felt. I wanted to protect myself."

"Then kill me!" Emma cried. A gesture and the sword flung itself into her hand. She placed the blade at her own throat, the hilt offered to Regina, her free hand darting out to capture Regina's, forcing it to the pommel. "You'll never love me. I'll never love anyone else. So just end it. Step away from the darkness once and for all."

"You're not the darkness, Emma. You're my light."

Emma groaned, Excalibur falling away, her fingers tearing at the neat array of her hair. It spooled out into frizzy tangles and she seemed on the verge of tears. "You don't love me!"

Regina swallowed. It hurt more than she thought, hearing that. But this wasn't about love; not yet, at least. It was about anger and pain and loving Emma wouldn't make those better. Only forgiveness would. "Are you sorry for what you did? Did any of it make you happy?"

"No! No, no, no, no! Nothing makes me happy—I'm dark! I'm evil!" Her clenched fists pulled free of her hair, leaving it dangling around her face like a bridal veil gone feral. "Did I hurt you?" Her voice was a croak—so far away from her old voice that Regina couldn't hear her in it anymore. She could only see the old Emma in those eyes.

"Yes," Regina admitted. "You did. And I forgive you."

The thing that had been Emma and was Emma still fell silent. Stopped, head downcast, like she was looking down at the fallen sword. In the darkness, shadows consumed her face, hiding all of her from view but a single hand. Regina could see the pressure on the fisted knuckles, half-moons of blood where her nails were driven into her palm.

"Please," Emma said, like the old Emma was gasping for air after rising from the bottom of the sea. And Regina went to her and embraced her and felt the too-thin body, the too-cold skin, the flesh clammy and hardened and the hair that was jagged like concertina wire and through it all, something that was Emma relaxing into the contact.

Regina wondered when was the last time Emma had been touched? Was it back in Camelot? Had it been her, when she'd kissed Emma, when she'd put Hook's façade up between the two of them?

"I'm sorry," Emma eked out, her Emma, the Emma she loved. "I'm sorry, sorry, so sorry…"

And Regina just held her.

"I fucked it all up. I fucked everything up."

"I let you," Regina countered. "I helped you. We've spent so long running from the truth. Running from happiness, wanting to be anything but together. Enemies or friends or—anything so long as we didn't have to let each other in. Why not let it happen? Whatever it is—fate, destiny, love—just let it happen?"

Emma's eyes met hers. They were big and blue and full of tears and hers. "Do you love me?"

"I love you. I love our family. I love the son we've raised. I love all of Emma Swan. No—I embrace it. Even the dark parts, the ugly ones, they're a part of you. I want them too."

Emma stopped sobbing. She had a smile more powerful than all her tears. "Then kiss me."

Regina did. More amazing still, Emma kissed her back.

Regina had given True Love's Kiss once in her life. It had been astonishing. But being the recipient of it—that was perfection. She wasn't just doing magic, she was magic. She could feel the sunlight up above, the plants that took it in, the water that became vapor, the vapor that became clouds, even the darkness of storm clouds yet to fall—to become life-giving rain, cooling rain drops, white snow. It was all connected. And she was a part of it.

She and Emma. Part of each other.

Emma pulled away. Her Emma. Smiling like a big puppy.

"That was—"

Regina kissed her again. Just to be on the safe side.

She wasn't used to being in love. She needed practice.