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Never Too Late

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I am in control

I haven't lost my mind

I am picking up the pieces

Of the past you left behind

"You know what?" Emma asked rhetorically. "I'm glad you're doing this. I'm glad you ruined us."

"Me? I ruined us? You're going to play this game again?"

"Yes, Regina. This is your fault. You have a stick so far up your ass you'll never be able to pull it out, and that's why we'll never be together."

"Because of the supposed stick up my ass?"

"Among other things."

"Like what?"

"Like the fact that you're a terrible parent," Emma started, "and the fact that you're corrupting our son."

"Are you kidding me, Emma? I fucking dare you to say that again, you fucking slob. You are a pathetic excuse for a mother. Where were you when he fell and cried, when he broke his leg, when he lost his first tooth, when he cried because he doesn't have a father?"

Emma paused, taking in Regina's argument. When she thought of all the things she'd missed, the weight on her heart told her that Regina was at least partially right.

"I'm sorry," she said without thinking.

"What are you apologizing to me for? Apologize to your son. I'm surprised he doesn't hate you for everything you've done to him."

"I'm not one who tried to bribe him with magic."

"Unlike you, I would do anything to keep my son, as any good mother would."

"You're not a good mother, Regina."

"And you're not a good lover."

"Maybe not, but what's making you say that?" Emma asked. "And are you talking sexually or otherwise?"

"Not sexually."

Emma blushed, unable to explain why she was so relieved at the woman's comment.

"Oh, don't," Regina spat, noticing the redness that rose to the sheriff's cheeks. "This is ridiculous."

Quickly changing the subject, Emma asked, "So what makes me such a terrible lover?"

I don't know, Regina answered silently. Nothing. But the answer she actually gave was different.

"Everything."

I don't need your condescending

Words about me looking lonely

I don't need your arms to hold me

Cause misery is waiting on me

Regina wanted to confess, to tell Emma that she honestly had no idea what was going on between them, or why they were both suddenly so angry. What had happened? Did either of them even know? The anger and resentment had escalated to swears, screaming, and dramatically throwing things across the room. But the words stuck in her throat. How could she even begin to explain?

Before Regina could try, Emma had ascended the stairs and closed herself in the bedroom. This time, she wasn't crying. Instead, she was slamming her fists into a pillow until she was gasping for air, exhausted from the outburst.

I'm so lonely, her mind whispered, lulling her to sleep with pain.

Regina only went up the stairs once, to tuck Henry into bed once he got home from school, and didn't open the bedroom door. Only when it was well past midnight did Regina enter the room to find Emma in a fitful sleep. Her agony was evident from her facial expression and scrunched brow. The darkness around her eyes visibly displayed her fatigue, as she hadn't gotten a peaceful night's sleep in over a week. Upon seeing this and noting the goosebumps on the woman's arms, she grabbed a blanket from the closet and draped it over her.

I am not alone

Not beaten down just yet

I am not afraid

Of the voices in my head

Down the darkest road

Something follows me

I am not alone

Cause misery loves my company

Misery loves my company

Emma began to groan in her sleep, and as her obvious panic grew, Regina knelt beside the bed and reached up to stroke the blonde's hair out of her face.

"Emma," she said softly. "Shh. It's okay. It's just a dream."

The woman's eyes shot open, and she sat up in bed abruptly.

"D-Don't. I'm f-"

"You're not fine. What's going on with you?"

"You die in my dreams."

Eyes wide, Regina took the woman's sweating hand and looked at her, her own expression softening.

"I'm not dead," she told Emma. "I'm right here."

Feeling unable to stop herself, Emma slid her arms around the brunette and buried her face in the woman's shoulder.