Within the blink of an eye it was Thursday, and Emma had a 3 AM flight the following day to head back to Fort Benning, and she wasn't ready to leave Storybrooke just yet.

The reality of the situation hit the blonde hard when she woke up that morning with Regina sleeping soundly on her side facing Emma, her hand still in the middle where she had fallen asleep drawing circles on Emma's palm. Their nightly conversations drifted to a close at the 4 AM mark when, despite her better efforts, Regina's eyes started to flutter shut yet she continued to insist she was awake. Like Regina, Emma didn't want the night to end, but watching Regina as she slept grew to be a favourite past time of the younger woman's, so Emma used her free hand to tuck errant strands of brown hair behind Regina's ear and rub soothing circles just under the lobe.

Awake, Regina was flawless, but asleep, Regina was something out of a fairy tale – a sleeping beauty she yearned to wake yet wanted to keep sleeping if only to admire her raw beauty for a moment longer. Emma took the small amount of time allotted to her to sear the brunette's image into her brain. Carefully, she shifted closer, removing the distance habitually set between them and brought her hand up to trail feather light touches down Regina's temple, tracing the scar along her lip, feeling the curve as her collarbone dipped, and watching the goosebumps rise on the flesh of her arm. Every bump, every scar, every soft patch of smooth skin, every shade of toned flesh Emma imprinted onto the back of her retina until the only thing her mind knew was Regina.

The brunette's faltered breathing signalled her consciousness, and Emma eased her to the land of the living with a few well-placed teasing kisses, her nose nuzzling against the older woman's cheek as her lips caressed the corner of her mouth. A breathy laugh hit her cheeks, and Regina's hand instinctively tightened around Emma's in the middle as her eyes fluttered open.

"Hi," the blonde whispered, pulling back so they lay face to face on the pillow.

"Hi," Regina responded in kind, chocolate eyes glowing a bright honey before a watery sadness etched into them so slowly it was as if time had paused. "It's your last day."

"I know," Emma said apologetically as if she had control over such matters. "But I don't want to talk about that right now. It's just like any other day."

Regina scoffed dryly though before Regina's token pessimism could take hold, Emma brushed her lips against the brunette's, distracting her from her thoughts. "Good morning," she said pointedly.

Regina rolled her eyes, but her lips quirked upwards in contentment of the moment. "Good morning."

"Sleep well?"

"Surprisingly so. You may be just as comfortable as my pillows."

"Only just."

"Well the goose-down does form to my body," the brunette reasoned.

"I'm sure I could too," Emma grinned saucily, winking for emphasis.

Regina barked out a laugh and shook her head, though the red staining her cheeks as she flushed hotly was evident that the image the blonde gave was playing through her mind in vivid detail. She sat up, shifting her legs out of bed to sit on the edge, her back to Emma as she rolled a bare shoulder from her fallen nightgown strap and glanced coyly behind her. "Perhaps we could find out when you return."

Emma's eyes widened as she choked on her words, managing only to get out a high-pitched "what?"

"Consider it incentive," Regina provided easily and walked to the bathroom with a sway of her hips.

With a grin, Emma sat up and rolled out of bed, hastily making the bed. "You get the kid and I'll make breakfast."


Emma had insisted they go about their day as normally as they would have any other week, but it seemed that with each passing minute, she was acutely aware that she was one minute closer to having to leave for the airport. She did her morning run as per usual, though she took the extra long route that brought her in and around town, waving to each familiar face that passed her as they greeted the day. She even stopped by the diner, picking up twin coffees and a bear claw, a treat she had become addicted to in her weeks in Storybrooke. She tried to pay for it, but Ruby and her grandmother basically kicked her out of the diner, threatening that would be her last bear claw if she didn't get her butt back home. The usual struggle of getting Henry dressed for the morning was heard as soon as she retreated back to the mansion and closed the door behind her, placing the tray of coffees and a little note to Regina on the kitchen island before heading up to shower in Henry's washroom.

After the quick shower, Emma met both brunettes in the hallway where Henry all but jumped on her, yanking on her arms until she swung him onto her back, using one arm to keep him steady while the other was placed on Regina's lower back as she guided the older woman down the stairs. Though Emma had promised to be chef for the morning, once Emma had settled Henry onto the bar stool, the women set about making a batter for waffles and berries. The blonde grinned when Regina stopped her whisking when she noticed the coffee on the table, grinning at the Good morning beautiful and smiley faced note stuck to the sleeve and leaned over the corner where Emma was slicing up strawberries to kiss her swiftly on the cheeks in thanks.

It was the most domestic Emma had ever felt, sitting around the table having breakfast, her hand finding Regina's every so often in simple reassurance that her presence was there, Henry going on about his dream that seemed to morph into a recap of what had happened on House of Mouse. The trio had been in the department store earlier that week, and upon arriving at the Disney store, Emma had bought Henry the complete series of the TV show. It had been his choice of show for the nights in since the boy was completely enamoured by all his favourite Disney characters mingling under one roof.

But once the dishes were washed and Emma retreated up to her room to grab a sweater for a final day out to the stables, the sight of her packed duffel and rucksack laying on the foot of the bed was enough to break the bubble she built around herself that morning. Swallowing the tightness in her throat that hindered her breathing, she shut the door and sat down with a heavy sigh, taking inventory of the room she had called her own for nearly a month. Granted, lately she had become quite familiar with Regina's bedroom, but here inside the mansion's guest room, Emma began feeling the first remnants of a home.

In the early days of her stay, Regina would wake Emma up from nightmares and the two would sit on her bed, backs to the head board lying side by side, or retreat to the kitchen for tea, or in Emma's case, hot chocolate with cinnamon, and talk about it until dawn.

Some days Henry would help Emma work out, the boy used as a weight or sitting on her bed and counting, usually inconsistently, and sometimes in Spanish as his mother had been teaching him, as she went through her sets.

The first time Regina did Emma's laundry, Emma had found that her clothes were placed in the room's dresser and closet, her duffel and rucksack folded neatly on the top shelf. The intrusion bothered her for about half a second, but her clothes had never smelled that good or felt that soft before, and the care Regina had given them was more than any of the foster parents she had stayed with combined. Emma had kept her clothes in the dressers ever since.

That is until now, with her bags repacked and more filled than they were before arriving. A new sweater was added to her collection, red with grey print emblazoned on the front proclaiming it as Property of Storybrooke Knights, ironically the town's high school's mascot – no wonder Henry had such a fixation. It was Regina's when she went to school, and though Emma had every intention of stealing it as a token of her time (and just because it smelled like Regina), when she found it already folded and packed with her belongings, she figured her desires weren't as inconspicuous as she thought.

She lifted her rucksack and rifled through it, smiling fondly at the letters and pictures she guarded with her life, the beginning of it all, really. The newer photographs were an addition to her bag that she was excited to bring back with her. No longer would her walls around her cot be bare save for a schedule or itinerary of upcoming events. She now had a collection of pictures, her friends immortalized on film to look after her on those nights she'd be away from them.

The few pictures she already possessed of herself, August, and Neal were among the top of the small stack, but as she flipped those to the back, her eyes clouded with moisture as the movie reel of her memory played snippets of each still.

Regina had snuck a picture of Emma and Henry one rainy April day, the third day Emma had been in Storybrooke where Regina had taken the rest of the week off. Emma was holding an umbrella and guiding Henry by the hand down the mayoral pathway, the boy decked out in a blue rain coat, red rain hat, and yellow rain boots, resembling a humanoid version of Paddington Bear. Neither Emma nor Henry were aware of the shot. Henry had been too distracted by the puddles underneath his feet, and Emma had been careful to make sure he was properly shielded from the light shower. Regina had been on the porch when she quickly grabbed her camera to capture the moment.

The first few were of her and Henry with the boy usually stationed on her lap, hugging her around the neck, or one where he was sitting high atop her shoulders. Regina nearly had a heart attack at that one, but when both Emma and Henry promised to be extra careful, Regina relented, allowing their fun. It was their little secret that one time Emma miscalculated the height of the doorway and Henry accidentally bumped his head against the frame.