"I know, Regina," she sighed and sat on the bed.

"You can't know! This isn't just something that happens every day!" She resumed her pacing, this time holding her stomach as her eyes tracked the fibres of the carpet wildly. "You're here. You're here. After so long, you came back." She stopped dead and directed her rant to the wide-eyed blonde. "And, and you've been here this entire time," she said with quiet realization. "This whole time you were so close, and you didn't call. You didn't call once. You didn't even send a letter. How could you not let me know that you were alive?!"

"Regina—"

"I know," she interrupted holding a palm up, her voice lowering an octave in partial understanding. "I know you were scared, but—one phone call, Emma. Just one."

"I couldn't, Regina," Emma implored taking a step closer.

"One thirty second phone call just telling me you're alive—"

"I should have, I know."

"But you didn't."

"I know!" Emma grounded out and smacked the bed with her hands. After a few deep breaths, she ran her fingers through her hair to comb out the tangles, using the time to get her bearings. Regina was right, she deserved an explanation a lot sooner than this. Emma would want one if the situation was reversed. But Regina wouldn't do something stupid. She was too smart, too calculating, and Emma was...Emma. Taking another breath, she diverted her gaze downward, willing the memories to leak through to her consciousness in careful consideration.

"I'll tell you everything," she promised. "I told you they were trying to keep me as a trade." She held up her prosthetic arm, the fingers moving as a wave for emphasis. "As soon as our car sped off, a couple guys grabbed me and dragged me to—"

"No—no that's not what I mean." Regina shook her head frantically. "I don't want you to tell me now."

"You wanted to know. I can tell you now."

"Don't tell me because I'm forcing you."

"Then what am I supposed to do to get you to calm down?"

"I don't know!" Regina shrieked. Her hands flew up by her face as her cheeks reddened, the vein in her forehead bulging. Her chest heaved as she sucked in air desperately. The prevailing ring of her yell permeated the room, mixing in with the sound of silence as they continued to stare at one another, fixed in this limbo neither knew how to escape from. "I don't know," Regina said quietly this time. "I'm just—"

"So confused," Emma finished for her meekly.

The brunette nodded, crossing her arms over her chest. "It feels like a lifetime ago I was saying goodbye to you in an airport."

"It was."

"But—"

"I know," Emma finished imploringly.

Silence permeated the room once again. The afternoon light streaming in through the partially open curtain was the only audience to their silent foray. Dust particles danced in the sunlight, the only thing moving as the two women remained rooted on opposite sides of the room. The tension in the air thickened between them.

It had always been so easy with Regina. She had always been someone Emma could write to about anything and talk to for hours. In a world where Emma was literally tossed around, Regina had been the one constant in her life. If she lost that—Panic bubbled deep in her stomach causing her lungs to constrict painfully. No. No, she couldn't lose her. They were supposed to be a family. They were supposed to be normal. Her gasp broke through the silence. Regina whipped her head up.

Emma had never been the calm one. She reacted. Her decisions were rash. Foresight was thrown out the window. Regina was always the one with soothing words on her lips and warmth in her arms whenever Emma felt inadequate. But right now, neither of them were ready to fill that role.

Emma took a steadying breath, willing her shaking hands to calm. "What happened?"

"I don't know." Regina slumped down beside Emma, her hands shaking just as fiercely as the blonde's.

"It's not the same." Emma ducked her head, her voice as small as she felt.

With a resigned sigh, Regina nodded. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Not your fault I went missing," Emma said with a dry laugh as she shifted uncomfortably. The lump in her throat made her want to choke.

"No." Regina's hand was on her thigh, and Emma chanced a side glance to the brunette to see wide, desperate eyes. "No. This isn't your fault either."

"We can't pretend?" Though Emma phrased it as a question, they both knew it to be fact. No longer could they simply imagine the other away on business, believing their phone calls that ran late into the night to be check-ups as Emma settled into a hotel room after a big business meeting. Too much had happened. Way too much. And though Emma mentally prepared herself for this worst case scenario, now that it was here, it felt like her world has come crashing down.

Her fingers found Regina's as they laced together on top of her thigh, hoping for one last moment of make-believe. Okay, she told herself as her eyes watered for a loss she couldn't quite put a name to. Okay okay okay.

"I don't want to pretend anymore," Regina admitted quietly. "I want us to be real for once."

"Can we?" The last shred of hope in Emma had her begging, pleading they could attempt to salvage whatever relationship they could, but the voice inside her head kept saying it was too little too late, and all she wanted to do was beat the crap out of that voice.

Slowly Regina lifted Emma's hand with her own and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, all the while locking gazes with the younger woman next to her. "Yes."


The coffee machine hissed as a fresh brew filtered into the pot. The heady aroma of the Colombian mix wafted through the kitchen as both women remained concentrated on their delegated tasks. Once they had dressed and made their way downstairs, their rumbling stomachs interrupted any conversation they were set to have, so Regina, ever the hostess, began making paninis for lunch while Emma had put the coffee on. The blonde was stilted in her movements, feeling the familiarity of moving throughout the kitchen with ease with this woman bubble just beneath the surface of her skin but refrained from diving headfirst into it because they made a promise. Gone was the past, and now they had to move forward. Despite her mind telling her that this wasn't her kitchen anymore, muscle memory took over when she poured coffee into Regina's favourite mug, still positioned on the second level shelf, and spooned in two sugars and cream. Regina usually took it black whenever she was working or stressed, but Emma had once seen Regina prepare it this way, and instinct kicked in.

Emma set the coffees on the island before briefly departing the kitchen to rummage through the bag she had brought in. By the time she returned with her hand-like prosthetic in place of the former, Regina had already plated the sandwiches and sat adjacent to the free place setting. Emma caught the slight falter of Regina's movements when the brunette had glanced up quickly to see Emma enter and stare again before moving her gaze to the aesthetically accurate limb of her right arm. The blonde shrugged then moved to Regina's left and sat, quietly thanking the older woman for the food.

Emma knew they had to talk. It was why they had left the bedroom. It was too easy to fall into ignorance whenever they got too close to one another and a bed was right there, but now that they were seated next to each other, the afternoon sun brightening up the ridiculously yellow kitchen, Emma was at a loss for words. Where should she begin? How should she begin?

She chanced a covert glimpse at Regina and found her gaze locked on Emma's hand, so lifelike even Emma sometimes forgot she had the barest of feeling in it. Washing down her bite with a gulp of her coffee, she cleared her throat and gently moved the fingers of her prosthetic. "It looks really nice, but it's not as easy to manipulate as the other one is."

Regina's eyes snapped up at Emma's words, and her cheeks tinted pink at being caught. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say it was your actual hand."

Regina's eyes darted back to the prosthetic without her conscious approval, and Emma figured that was a good place as any to start.

"You heard the story of what happened that day. With Neal? I got a bullet in the hand. It hurt like a bitch. I obviously didn't have the best medical care, so it started to get infected." She scooted closer and held up her hand and outlined the back of her prosthetic with her index. "All down here it was purple and green, the whole hand eventually swelled, and there was puss and blood and something else."

"Emma." Regina looked nauseous as she stared horrified.

"I made a sling for it out of a sleeve, but eventually the pain got to be too much. The report says when they found me, my belt was tightened so tight around my arm, the metal was piercing into my skin, and my hand was practically dead at that point." The prosthetic lay limp between them until Regina caressed a finger over the smooth, skin-like feel of Emma's wrist, following the junctures of the mechanics just beneath its surface until her hand rested firmly on top of the blonde's, their fingers clasping in unison. "It slowed down the infection from spreading any further than it could have."

"I'm so sorry," Regina breathed out, squeezing her fingers tightly with Emma's.

"It's okay," the blonde smiled and squeezed back. She leaned back on her barstool though kept their fingers interlocked.

"I'm sorry," Regina repeated with a shake of her head because no matter what the past three years had been for her, she couldn't even begin to process what it was like for Emma. "I'm so sorry."