August stepped into the room suddenly, already holding Regina by the arms again as she cried out. "You left her!" Regina screamed passed him.

A chill ran down Neal's spine as the woman sobbed into his former Sergeant's chest.

"You left her," Regina repeated devastated.

Neal shut his eyes, feeling Emma's fingertips so close to his own before the sound of a gun he'd never forget forced his eyes open. "I know."

Chapter 20

Chapter Notes

Disclaimer in Chapter One.

AN: Slightly quicker update to make up for the crappy episode that was last night. Thank you so much for your reviews, alerts, and favourites!

Kathryn opened her front door, hopeful to see a certain brunette Mayor but finding it was simply her husband, looking sheepish and apologetic. Her face dropped significantly in disappointment and she didn't bother trying to hide it.

"I'm sorry for intruding on girls' night," David explained, stepping through the threshold and grazing her forehead with his lips in greeting, "but I forgot my badge."

He greeted Tina and Ruby with a friendly wave before darting upstairs and returning half a minute later, stomping down the carpeted hardwood in his haste. "All right, got it. I'm out of your hair."

He was a step outside the door when Kathryn called him back. "David?" She pointed to the side table where his badge lay untouched. "Your badge?"

He pursed his lips into an uncomfortable smile before nodding. "Right." He grabbed his badge quickly and headed out the door.

Kathryn let the door slam shut as she turned back to her friends with a frown etched on her face.

"I don't get how him and MM can continue to keep this up," Ruby commented as the ladies retreated to the kitchen for appetizer prep. "I mean, I've talked to her, and she keeps denying it, but you can tell on her face she's conflicted."

"She's conflicted?" Tina scoffed. "David was the one who made the commitment, and it's not like she's some oblivious mistress. She knows who the Deputy is married to."

Kathryn held up her hands and scrunched up her face in displeasure. "Regardless. I don't care about him tonight. Has anyone talked to Regina?"

Tina shook her head, pulling from the freezer some frozen spinach puffs and tearing into the box. "We were supposed to meet after New Year's when I got back from New Zealand, but she hasn't returned my phone calls and she's not answering her door."

"She's alive," Ruby added, cutting into some avocados. "I see the lights on in the house when me and Red go for a run in the morning."

"She hasn't been in the office either," Kathryn thought aloud, recounting the times over the past month where her firm had been working a case in the courtroom in Town Hall and Regina had not been spotted anywhere. Just last week, Kathryn had tried to visit the office, but the door had been closed shut and Regina's secretary had said she had been working from home. Judging by the pile-high stacks of manila folders and files on her desk, Kathryn wondered how much work was actually getting done.

"The diner is buzzing though," Ruby informed, holding her chin on both fists as she leaned over the table top. "People notice when the Mayor stops showing up for work."

"Councilman James has been signing off on things Regina usually keeps for herself," Kathryn added. "Actually the entire council has been swamped with work."

"I'm hearing crazy theories," the waitress continued. "Some people have even said she might be pregnant if, you know, Emma wasn't a girl."

"There is such a thing as in vitro and insemination," Tina provided. "And I doubt she would hide away a pregnancy from us."

"I don't know." The older blonde poured them all a glass of wine and stared thoughtfully into the red liquid as it swirled gently at the bottom of the glass, ripples cascading out as the wine settled. Kathryn frowned. "She hasn't acted this way since. . ."

She trailed off, bit her lip, and furrowed her brow.

"Since when?" Both Tina and Ruby had paused their actions to stare inquisitively at their older friend.

"Since her parents died."

Years of friendship had put them all on the same wavelength, and the unspoken question hung in the air.

"Is it the anniversary of their death?" Ruby hoped, steering away from the looming topic.

Kathryn shook her head and pressed the lip of her glass to her mouth. "Last month."

"Maybe it's struck her late?" Tina added.

Instead of an answer, Kathryn stepped quickly to the corner of her counter where the cordless phone was cradled and dialed her friend's number. Tina and Ruby resumed their preparation, placing the appetizers in the oven and adding tomatoes to the guacamole while Kathryn tapped her foot impatiently. It rang and it rang before finally directing to the voicemail Kathryn could now recite verbatim. She sighed and ended the call, replacing the phone back in its receiver and shaking her head. "No luck."

"Is it Henry?" Ruby asked ominously, her eyes suddenly wide with worry. "The kid hasn't been around the diner in a while either."

Tina shook her head. "He's still been going to school. Apparently his teachers have been talking about how reclusive Regina has gotten lately as well. All they see is her car picking him up and dropping him off."

There was a moment of quiet with the only thing breaking it being the low hum of the oven and the crackling of the phyllo dough as it baked.

"Do you think—"

"No," Ruby interrupted cutting Tina off from the question that hovered over their heads. "August would have told me."

"He was down here during the holidays," Kathryn pointed out. "He didn't mention anything."

Ruby shook her head. "And now he's suddenly taken a journey to discovery."

"What does that mean?" Tina wrinkled her nose.

"It means he went to go travel the world," Ruby explained with just the tiniest hint of envy and resentment.

"Do you think that's it?" Tina asked. "He and Regina got into some argument?"

Neither woman answered her question, but they all knew, though no one had the courage to say it aloud, that whatever had Regina locking herself away from the world, it had something to do with a certain blonde-haired soldier.


"Emma, is someone bothering you?"

There was half a second of silence that was interrupted by the imminent static on the line, but the blonde spoke, cutting it off. "It's just–it's nothing I can't handle, I swear."

Regina bit her lip, not necessarily believing Emma but trusting her nonetheless. What other choice did she have really? "How much longer will you be gone?"

"Probably a few months."

She scowled audibly.

"Hey." Emma interrupted the complaint that was sure to leave red-stained lips. "I'll be back before you know it."

Regina woke, beating her alarm clock yet again, though that was easy when she hadn't slept a wink the night before. Her dreams wouldn't allow her to get more than an hour or two. How could she when every time she closed her eyes she pictured Emma in a state of utter turmoil—hanging by the wrists, locked in some mouldy cellar, beaten and broken until unrecognizable—Stop. She took a deep a breath. Then another. And another. Her imagination was good at finding the worst case scenario and even better at tormenting her mind.

Her latest dream had been merciful. Simply a memory of speaking with Emma last Christmas. Has it really been a year since she last saw Emma? She shuddered and inhaled shakily. Nearly a year ago, Emma was surprising her at a hospital and now she was lying on the side of the—No. That's enough. She didn't know where Emma was and that was a hell of a lot better than the alternative.

Sometimes.

Missing in action. That was the more appropriate term to call the situation. She had wanted to throttle Neal and August's neck for saying casualty. It was laced with such finally and dread. Not that missing in action was any better. Regina was quite sure it just might be worse. This waiting game she had gotten so good at—waiting for letters, phone calls, visits—amplified ten-fold. Waiting for a body to turn up? Her eyes welled up for a second before she willed her trembling lip to stay. She was too tired to cry.

She hadn't been sleeping well for much longer than just last night if she truly thought about it, but she couldn't think about it, because if she wondered why she was so restless she'd remember opening the door to find a man she'd only read about in letters telling her that Emma was gone.

She squeezed her eyes shut.

She was thinking about it too much again. Slowly her eyes opened, drawn to the swirled design of her ceiling where the moulded plaster spiralled in groups like a hundred rain drops were falling upward and her ceiling was a ripple effect. She counted the grooves, concentrating hard to only increase her count when she was certain the lines formed into a full circle. Whenever she lost her spot, she started over because it was a lot easier to count circles than it was to lay awake and think of . . .her. Thirteen. Fourteen. Damn. One. Two. She heard the familiar thud that was Henry jumping out his bed and bounding for the washroom, her more effective alarm clock that forced her to get up and out of bed.

He was lucky. He didn't know yet. Frankly, Regina wasn't sure she was going to tell him. She could tell herself all she wanted that she was saving him the heartbreak, that he was a child and he wouldn't understand, he didn't need to know, but who was she kidding? This was self-preservation at its finest. It physically hurt to think of Emma in any sort of distress—she couldn't even handle Emma having a simple, right, a simple concussion. If she just kept pushing it down, she wouldn't have to deal with it. She could pretend for just a little while longer that nothing was wrong.

But misery loves company. Oh god, what was she thinking? Telling her son something terrible just so he could hurt with her. She scoffed at herself and sat up. The Mother of the Year award certainly wasn't going to her for that one.

She wished August had stayed. She didn't blame him, not entirely. He and Emma were cut from the same cloth, and the news of his sister's fate could keep him in Storybrooke for only a couple days. He had to get out of here and clear his head. He'd send postcards. He'd promised.

So did Emma, her mind though bitterly. She shook her head fiercely. It's not her fault. But she told her to be careful! Regina clutched the back of her head and and let it thus against the headboard as she felt her breathing falter.

Now Regina was left to pick up the pieces of a life that for the past four years had been firmly stitched together with Emma's. The string that held them all together was pulled leaving nothing but scraps at her feet. She tucked her legs into her chest and wrapped her arms around them, letting her forehead rest on her knees. That was exactly why she had to tell Henry. He'd never not known Emma. The blonde was like another m—Regina gulped. Her eyes watered. She could have been. Eventually.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she promised herself she was only going to cry a handful of times today if she could help it. Wiping her face on her blanket-covered knees, Regina slid out of bed, donned her robe and slipped into her slippers. She didn't bother with getting ready any further or putting on make-up. She hadn't for the past few weeks.

The only noise in the hallway when she slipped out of her bedroom was the sound of the toilet lid slamming shut. It was followed by the rattling of the doorknob before Henry muttered an "Oh yeah," and promptly flushed the toilet. Light flooded the dimly lit hallway from the open bathroom door as Henry grinned upon seeing his mother and immediately threw himself at her waist.

"Morning Mommy!" He hugged her, bouncing on the balls of his feet in a preemptive need to be picked up.

"Good morning, darling," Regina greeted and bent at her knees to scoop him into her arms. He was getting bigger now, taller and more solid. Her mother would have scolded her for coddling him, but that only made her hug him tighter and press a wet kiss to his cheek which he wiped off promptly with a wrinkle of his nose and the back of his hand. "What are we going to do today?"

Tucking Rexy and Mrs. under the crook of his arm securely, he brought a finger to his chin in deep thought. "Play?"