"You said that," Emma said with a gentle laugh that only made Regina sigh and lean closer toward the younger woman. Their food sat forgotten on the island as Emma turned in her chair to fully face the older woman. "I was in Brookhaven for a lot of reasons. I have nightmares. Probably worse than what you ever saw. They pop up pretty regularly still, but I've learned to cope with it."

"You were fine just earlier," Regina observed.

"Yeah," Emma realized. "But I might not be tonight. It gets pretty scary in there."

"I'm sorry," Regina repeated again, and at Emma's incredulous look, she clarified. "For yelling at you. And for snapping at you when you woke up."

Emma smirked. "If you didn't snap at me, then you wouldn't be the Regina I know and love."

The tease made the brunette grin bashfully, and with the afternoon light silhouetting Regina's face, Emma was struck by how much she missed seeing that smile. She wanted nothing more in the world than to press her lips against them. Regina beat her to it, and Emma was almost surprised feeling the familiar yet foreign sensation as their lips moulded together.

"I love you." Regina sighed out a breathy laugh against Emma's lips, and the vibration made the blonde's heart flutter as her own face sported a matching grin. "I've only said that to you on paper."

"You said it this morning," Emma said with a pleased blush to her cheeks.

"I know. And I mean it," Regina said sincerely cupping Emma's cheeks in between her palms.

"What do you mean on paper?"

It was Regina's turn to blush as she fully sat back on her seat. "Dr. Hopper has been helping me, I guess, grieve. I must have written hundreds of letters to you by this point."

"You really thought I was dead," Emma said in wonder.

"What else did I have to go on to say otherwise?" Regina asked gently.

"I don't know." Emma glanced down, fiddling with her hands in her lap. "I was just so absorbed with my own problems, that I didn't give a lot of thought as to what was happening over here and what you were going through."

"They're not problems," Regina began, taking Emma's hand in her own when the blonde scoffed. "I mean, they are, but it's not like you stubbed your toe and ran away. I get it. Or at least I'm starting to. But don't downplay your success, my love."

Emma chuckled this time as she placed her free hand over their joined ones. "I haven't heard you say that in so long."

"My love," Regina purred as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss against Emma's jaw.

Emma's hand fell to her waist as they met in the middle, both leaning up off their stools as their lips searched for each other once again. Before they could touch, a thought crossed Emma's mind, halting both their movements. "How long have you been seeing Archie for?"

"Two years," Regina answered pulling back slightly. "I may have reverted to my eighteen-year old self when I found out the news."

"I'm—"

Regina pressed a finger to Emma's lips. "I think we've both exhausted our apologies for the day. Where were you before Boston?"

"Germany. Military hospital. My body basically went into shock during the amputation surgery. It shut itself down and I was in a coma state for seven months."

"A coma?" Regina gasped, gripping Emma's arms tightly.

They sat back down, fingers linked again, and though both women knew they wanted nothing more than to rekindle their flame, to touch and be touched, and revel in the presence of their found love, the journey ahead of them had barely been paved. With every recollection told, a new stone was turned. Emma had been preparing for this moment, working so hard to fight against the demons in her mind to remind herself how far she had come, and now that it was here, sharing it with a person who wasn't paid to sit there and listen, sharing it with Regina, Emma felt a weight shift from her shoulders as Regina listened patiently.

Emma found it easiest to explain the story behind every scar — her confinement with Nabil and being pitted against him like a caged animal, the bullet graze on the back of her calf that acted up on odd nights, even going as far as retrieving the postcard she had held onto for years. Emma once thought she had more than enough baggage as a foster child turned military soldier, but carefully reading Regina's expression as it ranged from horror to anger to sympathy had Emma questioning when enough would be enough. But then Regina led Emma by the hand into her study and retrieved a box hidden in her left hand side drawer. Emma didn't notice that her headshot was proudly displayed by Regina's laptop encased in a golden frame. She was too fixated on the bundles of letters wrapped neatly in the box, letters she had never seen before. Nearly every letter written by Regina to Emma had the brunette saying she missed her, loved her, and wished her home. Tear tracks still stained some of the older writings, and Emma felt her heart clench as she read Regina's words pleading her return.

Emma barely had enough time to truly register the emotions the older woman must have gone through before Regina was tugging her away again, upstairs this time, bypassing the master suite and turning the knob for Henry's room. Emma gasped out loud at the change in it. Although neat, the room that had once been laden with dragons and knights, was a tidy mess of comics piled precariously on a bedside table and a new computer desk. Stray sneakers peeked out from under the bed, and inside the partially open closet were clothes hanging from hangers and a laundry basket with t-shirts slipping over the lip. Emma almost wanted to cry because the four-year old she had hugged in the airport was a big kid now, and though she had seen the picture of Henry standing beside the sapling of his tree, the tears welled just the same.

"Where is he?" She questioned, taking in the blue plaid bedspread that had once boasted Sheriff Woody and Buzz Lightyear.

"Boy Scouts." Regina was oblivious to Emma's reaction as the brunette scurried over to the desk and reached up to the shelf hanging over it to pluck a book from its contents. The large leather-bound tome was thicker than the spine allowed, and judging from the creases of it and the wrinkles at its corners, it was well used.

Silently, Regina handed the book to Emma. It was weighty in her hands, and Emma almost thought she had been given that book of fairy tales, but when she flipped it open to the front page, realization set.

In the corner of the thick card stock written in Regina's delicate script was December 2005. The letter that followed, claiming this present to be Emma's own personal photo album to document her life with her newfound family made her breathing shallow and the tear she was holding back fall. Regina had saved this — a Christmas gift meant for Emma upon her arrival home — for years. She flipped to the middle of the book and skimmed through its pages, not registering that she had dropped on the bed in disbelief as pictures of the last three years filled its pages. Pictures Emma remembered pinning to the wall of her cot were pasted in the pages. Leaves collected on camping trips were glued accompanying sloppy writing telling Emma that Henry had caught a fish. The lump in her throat doubled.

"Why—you were moving on." Emma stood up suddenly as dread filled her. "You were moving on, and I came back, and I fucked up all your progress. I should go. I should—"

She took two steps to leave the room before Regina tugged on her wrist and pulled her back so they were flush against one another. Emma could barely keep eye contact with the older woman. How could she when she had never felt more selfish than in that moment? Emma was a runner. That's what she was good at. But of course, she even messed that up too by coming back a broken mess and—Regina's lips were on hers, pressing firmly as if to physically stop the voices in Emma's mind from filling her with doubt.

"Yes, we were trying to," Regina admitted quietly, still pressed against Emma's pliant body. "But your family has been waiting for you, and if you honestly believe that we would prefer a phantom image than the real Emma Swan, then I will accompany you to the doctor to have a further look at your brain."

Emma had always prepared for the worst case scenario. She was used to fighting through storms and armies and trudging through life like she was waist-deep in a trench of molasses. But Regina, with her wide, wonderful eyes accepting her home, promising to be there every step of the way was too overwhelming to be real. But it was, and even though the hard part wasn't over — hell, it was just beginning — nothing in the world felt easier.

"We tried to let go," Regina continued. "Actually, Dr. Hopper tried to pry open my grip on you, and I may have lashed out on him a handful of times. But you never once stopped being a part of this family."

Emma laughed, hysterically so, as her shoulders shook in Regina's arms. It was too much, too overwhelming. But it was everything she needed to hear. Her laughter bordered on madness as she finally choked out the first coherent thought that came to mind. "You—you're awesome."

Regina matched her absurd laughter because she felt anything but, yet coming from Emma, she had to admit: this was awesome.


They talked for hours, moving through various rooms in the house as if christening every room with their togetherness because though it was so familiar it was all so new. Emma revealed most of what she had been through as best as she could, answering Regina's questions and accepting her kisses as if that alone could take away the memories. Twice Emma had to take a break when she felt a phantom pain in her head and hand, but Regina had been patient, filling the gap with trips she and Henry had taken and how much had happened over the years.