Marco smiled encouragingly at her and nodded his approval. "Regina, would you like to share now?"

Usually the brunette would scold anyone who didn't use her honorific, but here, she knew she couldn't hide beneath the mask of Storybrooke's Mayor. No power was held here, and she couldn't bark at anyone to get her out of share time. These people, they were, for lack of a better word, grievers like her.

"You don't have to," Marco quickly reassured. "Sometimes it helps the soul to just listen."

She shook her head and sat up straight, folding her arms over her midsection. "I suppose I can contribute."

Public speaking had been her forte since she was a child. Her twisting words charmed her teachers and seduced her classmates and made her adversaries fall weak. But her arsenal was failing her as the four members watched on carefully. With a shaky breath, she directed her speech to Marco who waited patiently.

"I assume there are no introductions needed," she began with the last strain of superiority she could muster before rolling her eyes at the older man's pointed gaze and conceding. "My name is Regina, and I lost my girlfriend almost two years ago." Her hand darted to the circle necklace dangling there as she rubbed the pendant with her thumb in slow methodic circles. "Emma. Her name was Emma."

"Emma." Marco smiled fondly and encouraged with outstretched hands. "Tell us about her."

"Her smile," Regina began, casting her eyes down to her lap where her free hand fumbled with the hem of her blazer, "it lit up the room. It's funny, she had every excuse in the world to be miserable and to be pessimistic — to be like me — but for some reason, she wasn't. At least, she didn't show it as heavily. She was guarded, yes, but I guess we both found solace in speaking with a stranger.

"She's—she was—I guess, is— in military. We met through correspondence six years ago, and for years I was never able to put a face to the name I was writing to, and then she came waltzing into town in some horrendous ancient vehicle as yellow as her hair, and everything changed."

"She died in service?" Jefferson spoke up with his chin nestled on closed fists.

Marco scolded him admonishingly. "Jefferson, remember our sensitive language."

He rolled his eyes but looked at Regina for an answer.

She opened her mouth to say that she was just missing, she had basically been conned in attending this meeting as well, that most days she was fine. But she wasn't fine. Emma haunted her dreams and filled her subconscious no matter how hard she tried to distract herself. "She went missing," Regina continued in a soft tone. "She's been missing for two years. It's easy for me to tell other people that she's dead, but whenever I think it myself, I just find myself holding tighter. Only recently have I been able to accept the worse. Emma—" She cleared her throat and sniffed back the pressure behind her eyes. "Emma won't be coming back."


Weeks passed where Regina continued going to the support meetings along with seeing Dr. Hopper. He was proud of her, slowly but surely coming out of the cocoon she wrapped around herself, Henry, and August. November came and went, leading into December, and though the end of the month brought some emotional days for the Mayor, she reminded herself that Emma wouldn't want her to ruin the holidays with a tainted memory.

Regina had even felt a bit of gratitude toward the lumberjack. Robin proved a formidable help just by listening to his tale. The widower was left with a newborn after the death of his wife, and he and Roland had been doing exceptionally over the last few years. She'd nod his way whenever they crossed paths at the childrens' school, and most times after the meetings, Regina swallowed her pride and asked how he spoke with his son about his mother.

Carefully. As simply as possible. Let him know that although you're sad, he can be sad too. Most importantly, love him for the both of you.

Regina had yet to truly acknowledge Emma to Henry just yet. Every time she tried, his betrayed sobbing eyes haunted her, and all she could see was herself screaming at her son. But baby steps were the way to go, and after so many crawls, she could see how far she had come.

Her biggest leap forward happened in March when she had called August asking him to babysit and found herself outside Ruby Lucas' room above the B&B. She didn't know what was driving her out of the house this Friday night, but she knew that despite her clammy hands and peace offering of Chardonnay that she was ready to do this.

Red barked loudly as soon as Regina knocked tentatively on the door, and from within she could hear Tina's voice call out. "Pizza's here!"

The first thing she noticed was Red escaping at the first crack of the open door and barking happily up at Regina, running in circles before nudging her hand with her nose. The second, third, and fourth thing she noticed were the shocked faces of her friends. Tina stared wide eyed, partially hidden behind the door. Behind her, Regina could see Ruby lying across her bed, the magazine she was reading open and forgotten, and Kathryn, perched on the love seat in front of the television looking like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Hello," Regina greeted awkwardly, her hand finding the top of the husky's head and scratching behind her ear.

"Delivering pizza wouldn't happen to be your evening job, would it now?" Tina joked after recovering quickly and opened the door wider.

"Last I checked I was still the mayor."

Kathryn stood up from the couch and met Regina at the doorway, engulfing her friend in a tight hug. "We missed you."

"I missed you too," the Mayor admitted, allowing Tina to take her coat.

She held up the bottle to Ruby who grinned and accepted it graciously. "What's the occasion?" The waitress asked, clicking her tongue to get Red to calm down.

"Ladies night," Regina supplied easily as she took a seat next to Kathryn on the sofa.

"It's good to have you back." Tina smiled and handed her a drink just as Red barked again from another knock on the door. "Now that one I'm certain is pizza."


It wasn't until the following month where Henry, now seven years old and growing up much too quickly, had Paige over for a play date. The little girl was polite when Mr. Siciliano, her temporary guardian, dropped her off at the mansion, and the two children raced off to the living room and immediately popped in a movie and pulled out some games.

Habit had Regina checking in on the kids nearly every fifteen minutes, and when she didn't immediately find them in the living room when she was bringing in veggies and dip for a snack an hour later, her overprotective motherly heart sped up when she found a flurry of construction paper and markers littering the floor instead. She set off quickly to find them. Four steps down the hall, she heard rummaging in her office, determining the kids to be in there, she hovered just outside the partially open door.

"My mom keeps scissors in here," Henry stated, pulling out a drawer. "She showed me how to make paper people."

Paige helped, moving to the other side of the desk to pull out the drawers there before she stopped. "Who's this?"

Regina peeked through the crack of the door to see Paige holding up a picture of Emma, a headshot of the blonde in her formal wear with the barest hint of a smile on her face. It was the one picture Regina kept with her, the others hidden away in her room, because she was coming to accept that behind the woman she loved was the soldier who gave everything for her country. She respected that, revered it, but couldn't display it just yet. The Emma in the photograph was young, barely twenty and face wrinkle-free from the stress of the job.

Henry glanced over and squinted, holding out his hand to take the picture from his friend and stared at it for long moments. His silence gutted Regina in the pit of her stomach as a horrible through flittered through her head. What if she made Henry forget? How could she do that to him? To Emma?

"That's Emma," Henry whispered, making Regina strain to see more through the crack. "I haven't seen her in a long time."

"Who is she?"

"Uncle August's sister." Regina shut her eyes. Henry was a baby, he wouldn't be able to remember.

"I haven't seen her around."

The boy nodded. "She died. That's what my mom said. She doesn't like to talk about it."

"My mom died too," Paige said softly. "That's why I stay with Jimmy and Mel."

"I'm sorry," he said sympathetically.

Paige smiled tightly, no doubt having heard that enough times for it to mean little. "How come your mom has the picture? Was she your aunt?"

Henry shrugged and stroked his fingers over the photograph, his eyebrows knitted in memory. "She used to work a lot. We would only see her sometimes, but when she came home, we had the best times." His voice lightened in a soft chuckle. "We used to watch Treasure Planet together all the time, and she bought me my first backpack."

"She sounds fun."

"She was. She'd tuck me in at night, and we would play soldier, and we would call each other and she would tell me stories. Sometimes she and my mom would sing this song to me at night. Emma wasn't very good at it, but Mom helped her through it."

Paige nodded in understanding. "My mom used to let me do her make-up when I was younger, and she'd even leave the house with it."

Regina sniffled, a single tear dropping into the assortment of carrots and broccoli she had on the tray. Her heart swelled in a mixture of bliss and regret. She couldn't do this anymore. She couldn't pretend Emma was her best kept secret and if the world didn't know of her then she could still come back. Henry, god, Henry was affected by her just as much as she, and where was Regina for him in all that time? Wallowing in her own self-pity.