A rewrite of the ending of 6x14, because I will begrudgingly accept EvilQueen/Robin, but she sure as hell should have gotten to keep her own Henry too. No way she'd have left Storybrooke without her son. She also gets her best friend Emma, so I tossed in a healthier boyfriend choice for good measure.

"Are you ready, Mom?"

Henry smiles softly at her, love and tenderness in his gaze, and the Queen feels her heart breaking all over again. Is she ready to lose her son? How can anyone be ready for that? Especially now that Regina has healed her heart and taught her to love again?

"Henry, I..." Her hand reaches out, falters, falls back to her side. Her other hand is pressed tightly to her stomach as if it might be able to hold her together, hold back the way she feels sick. In her periphery, Regina steps closer and gently grabs hold of her hand, linking their fingers together with a squeeze of reassurance. It's odd, the Queen thinks—she's holding Regina's hand, holding her own hand, taking comfort from someone who is, in essence, a clone of herself.

"It's not goodbye," Regina says softly, though her voice cracks ever so slightly, her eyes suspiciously wet. "You'll be getting your own second chance."

"It'll be okay, Mom," and this time it comes from Henry, who steps forward and takes her other hand, clasping it in his own much larger one and holding it against his chest. His fingers are so long and growing calloused. He's growing up faster than she can keep up with. "You'll have me there with you."

For a moment the Queen is confused, surprise and shock registering in those dark, deep pools of brown. She doesn't know exactly what will await her when Henry uses the Author's pen, and neither does Regina, if the way the other woman clutches to her hand is any indication.

"I—I won't lose you?" she whispers, the prospect too good to be true. Henry just smiles and nods, his cheeks dimpled, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

"It'll be fine, trust me." He says it the same way Emma once did, and for the first time since her separation from Regina, the Queen does not feel hatred or jealousy surge up in her chest at the thought of the Savior. She remembers her friend, her best friend, the one who always protected her. Now, as Henry gives her that same Charming smile with warmth and trust in his eyes, she feels herself relaxing as if a weight has been taken from her shoulders.

"I trust you."

He continues holding onto her hand—Regina holding her other hand—and turns sideways to poise his pen over the storybook. With a quick and concise flourish, words materialize on the page beneath the pen tip and glow briefly before settling in as ink. He turns his head again and watches as a strange glow overtakes the Queen, wrapping around her body, ready to take her away.

"I love you, Henry," she says, and though her watery gaze lands briefly on Regina—on herself, the woman she has learned to love—her attention ultimately lands on her son. The light of her life.

"I love you too, Mom. See you soon."

He grins, coaxing a watery laugh out of the Queen, and then she's gone.

His hand falls to his side and Regina is quick to wipe away the moisture from her eyes, hardly able to believe that it's finally over. Henry slides into her arms and she hugs him tight and kisses his head before glancing over to where the storybook sits innocently on the diner table. Zelena and Snow, too, stare at it, not yet able to form words.

"What did you write?" Regina asks, hoping that her other half is alright. Henry shuts the book and hugs it to his chest, lips split in a smile.

"Her happy ending."

When the Queen opens her eyes, she jumps a little in surprise. She's standing in the middle of a crowd of bustling people, townsfolk plodding along on their way. She recognizes it as a town within the Enchanted Forest, a town that should be more than familiar with the Evil Queen. Yet as she stands there, frozen in place, no one spares her a second glance. It's as if she's no one at all.

Glancing down, she finds her apparel vastly different than the Evil Queen dress she'd been sporting not a minute ago. Gone is the jeweled black gown and intricate headpiece; now she wears a soft, navy blue riding coat and dark pants, her feet encased in comfortable riding boots and her short hair neatly tucked behind her ears. It feels—right, somehow. It feels like her.

"Mom!"

Henry. It's Henry's voice that has her head snapping up in surprise, looking around the busy cobblestone streets with both hope and fear bursting through her veins. For just a moment she fears seeing prince Henry, the one in bronze armour who had seen Regina kill the fake Snow and David, the one who vowed to destroy her. It would seem a suitable punishment, sending her to the Wish Realm that she'd trapped Emma and Regina in.

"Mom, over here."

She turns again, finally finding him in the crowd—and oh, he's still her baby boy, all gangly limbs and awkward growth spurts, his hair growing too long and unruly and his smile still crooked as ever. He wears a sturdy leather coat over a beige tunic and riding pants with boots, and something new slips into her memories. She's been teaching him to ride. They own a fair little piece of land with their own stables and she makes a good living as a prized horse breeder.

"Henry," she breathes out, blinking away the newly earned information. He grins and hops over, a hand held out, fingers wiggling.

"So, can I?"

"Can you what?" she asks, still trying to catch up with her newly given life. Henry juts out his lower lip in a dramatic pout.

"Aww, c'mon, Mom. You already agreed. Two silver pieces to see the new theatre troupe in town, remember?"

The Queen nods absently, her hands automatically seeking out her coin pouch beneath her jacket and fishing out a few coins for him. She places them in his outstretched palm and he grins, leaning in to smack a wet kiss onto her cheek.

"Thanks, Mom! We'll be right at town square if you change your mind and want to join us."

"We?" she repeats, but Henry is already bounding away through the crowds.

"Henry, don't run on ahead!" a shrill voice huffs, and then Cora is hurrying past her, chasing after Henry with one hand raised in the air as if she could flag him down. "Child! Goodness, you're worse than your mother!" And she tosses the Queen a shrewd yet affectionate look before she, too, disappears into the crowds.

"Oh, my back," a warm voice complains in jest, and this time, the Queen cannot stop her tears.

"Daddy?"

She turns, and it's her father she sees now, Henry senior in comfortable clothing—no longer the princely garbs or the nicely tailored suits he used to wear as her valet, just simple tunics and slacks of a middle classed man. He smiles at her, pretending to rub at his lower back.

"I'm too old to be running after my grandson," he chuckles, which turns into an 'oomf!' when the Queen launches into his arms and buries her face against his neck. His arms quickly circle her waist, hugging her firmly to him. "Sweetheart, what's wrong?"

The Queen just shakes her head, pressing her nose into his shoulder and breathing deeply of his familiar, long-lost scent. "I missed you," she whispers into his shirt. He pats at her back with a warm laugh.

"You just saw me half an hour ago, Regina." Still, he hugs her tight. The Queen eventually releases him with an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, Daddy."

"No need. Now, aren't you going to be late?"

"Late?" she echoes, even as she remembers that she's supposed to be meeting a friend at the pub. Emma, her mind helpfully provides, and she can't help but be amused. Of course Henry would write the Savior in as her best friend. In this world, Henry isn't biologically either of theirs; he was orphaned after his parents died in the ogre wars. Emma had found him in the rubble of his village and brought him to Regina. "Right. Emma."

"Maybe she'd like to have dinner with us tonight, hm?" Henry senior suggests cheerfully, patting the Queen softly on the arm as he toddles off in the direction that Cora and Henry junior had gone. "Tell her I say hello!"

The Queen nods and smiles, almost holding her breath as her father disappears into the crowds. A part of her wants to run after them, to find her father and her mother and her son and cry with relief that she has them all, but the hurt is quickly being soothed over by the knowledge that this is her reality now. Her family is here. Her fight is over.

Slowly, as if being led by the memories of her new life, she makes her way to the pub. The little side street is achingly familiar and she hesitates only a moment before striding forward.

"Regina! Hey!" Emma's there, grinning widely, looking utterly comfortable and at home in her leather vest and trousers, and though she looks much like she did when they'd all been trapped in Isaac's alternate universe, the Queen's new memories provides her with information. Emma's the princess here, daughter of the benevolent Queen Snow and Prince Charming (who are still very much alive and well, to her relief—though also old.) Emma is also every bit the tomboy and rascal that she knows her as, leaving the crown to her younger brother prince Leo so that she is free to wander the kingdom and act as something of a peacekeeper.

"Emma," the Queen greets with a genuine smile, glad to have her best friend here. Emma gives her a conspiratorial grin, one thumb jerking over her shoulder towards the pub as her green eyes twinkle with mischief.

"You remember that story Tinkerbell told us?"

"What story?"

"The one about our soulmates! Come on, keep up." She drags Regina over to the grimy window and jabs her index finger to the glass. "She said we were destined to be with the ones with the sun tattoo and the lion tattoo. Remember?"

And as Emma says it, the Queen regains the memories of a night long past, of drinks and laughter with Emma and Tinkerbell, of their amusement when the green fairy boasted that she knew who their supposed soulmates were.

"You don't actually believe Tink, do you?" the Queen asks, chuckling, but her laughter tapers off when she sees two men knocking their mugs together, the stark black tattoos easily visible on their forearms. A stylized sun marks one man, scruffy but handsome with an earnest smile and trusting brown eyes. A lion marks the other, dashing in a green cloak that brings out the blue in his eyes.

When the Queen looks over again, Emma has an odd look on her face. "Emma?"

"Do you think she was right?" Emma asks, almost hesitant. For all the years she's known her—in her new memories, at least, because the Queen still remembers everything that happened before this new Wish Realm—Emma has never been hesitant about anything.

"I don't know," the Queen admits, setting a hand on her friend's shoulder. "But I know that it's better to take a chance than to spend the rest of my life in regret. What do you say, Emma?"

The glint in those green eyes is back and Emma clasps her hand over the Queen's forearm with a grin. "You're right," she says as they both move towards the pub's entrance and push the door open. "Let's go say hello."

The Queen leads the way, feeling a surge of confidence as Emma trails just behind her, and in just a few quick strides they're claiming the seats across the table from the men, both of whom look up in surprise.

"Uh, hi?" the brown eyed one says, the flustered look on his face instantly endearing.

"To what do we owe the pleasure?" the blue eyed one asks, brows lifting with a confused smile. Emma clears her throat and eyes both their tattoos before smiling again and thrusting out her hand towards the one with the sun on his forearm.

"I'm Emma, this is my friend Regina. We were wondering if we might buy you boys a drink?"

The men both blink. The brown-eyed one blushes and gives a flustered laugh while the blue-eyed one beams.

"I'm Baelfire," says brown-eyes, shaking Emma's hand and smiling almost shyly at the grin Emma gives him. Blue eyes meets the Queen's gaze and gently takes her hand in his much larger one, his lips curving into a lopsided smile.

"Robin," he says warmly. The Queen lifts her free hand to flag over a barmaid, never once breaking eye contact even as she motions to his empty mug, her heart fluttering with the beginnings of love.

"Another?"