Chapter Text
After her return to Boston, Regina decided it was time to truly settle down and start building a life there—a real one. No more hotel stays, no more temporary fixes. This time, she was going to make something lasting. For herself, for Emma, and for the love they shared.
Emma, hopelessly smitten, eagerly proposed they move in together almost immediately. But Regina gently insisted on taking things slow.
“I need to learn how to stand on my own two feet again,” she told Emma, her voice soft but firm.
She knew she wanted Emma close—she couldn’t imagine her life without her—but starting from scratch meant rediscovering her independence, even if it was just a few blocks away.
Before long, Regina found a charming apartment on a quieter street not far from Emma’s. It was nestled among leafy trees, the kind that turned vibrant hues of gold and crimson in the fall, and the tall windows bathed the space in warm morning light. The apartment was smaller than what she was used to, but it felt perfect.
She took her time furnishing it, selecting every piece with care, building a home that reflected who she was now: a woman stepping forward, not looking back.
Once settled, she turned her attention to finding a job that would help her plant roots in Boston as deeply as she had in Storybrooke.
With her extensive experience and sharp intellect, it wasn’t long before she secured a position within the city council. It was demanding work, but it offered her the opportunity to shape Boston into a place she could truly call home. Slowly but surely, the city began to feel less like an unfamiliar expanse and more like fertile ground.
As she immersed herself in her work, Regina struck up an unexpected friendship with Kathryn, a sharp-witted lawyer who often advised the council on legal matters.
Initially, their exchanges were purely professional. But one late evening, as they lingered after a meeting, the conversation took a personal turn. Kathryn, in a rare moment of vulnerability, mentioned the loss of her husband years ago. Regina found herself opening up in response, sharing fragments of her own grief—the pain of losing Henry and the fear that starting over might not be enough.
Their shared experiences of loss created a quiet but undeniable bond. In Kathryn, Regina saw a kindred spirit, someone who understood the ache of grief but also the fragile hope of rebuilding. Over time, their conversations grew deeper, moving beyond the walls of city council meetings to coffee shops and long walks through the city.
For the first time in a long while, Regina felt like she had a friend she could truly trust.
Inspired by Regina’s determination, Emma decided it was time to chase her own professional dreams. She poured her energy into training, pushing herself through grueling hours and coursework to achieve the role of investigator.
For the first time, Emma felt like she’d truly found her calling—a chance to make a real difference in people’s lives. Her work was challenging, often demanding long nights and tough decisions, but the satisfaction of solving cases and helping those in need kept her going.
Regina, on her part, loved to tease her about it. “My savior,” she’d say in a playful tone, reminding Emma of how she always seemed destined to come to someone’s rescue.
Their lighthearted banter became a part of their relationship they both cherished deeply. Yet, in quieter moments, Regina’s words carried a deeper meaning. Sometimes, she’d smile softly, her voice barely above a whisper, and say, “A hero, just like our son.”
Emma would feel her throat tighten, her heart swelling with pride and a pang of loss. She never needed to respond aloud; the look in her eyes and the tender squeeze of Regina’s hand spoke volumes.
Eventually, after a few months they realized they were spending more time together than apart, so taking the next step felt natural.
Emma moved into Regina’s apartment—a space modest compared to the grandeur of Regina’s old mansion, but no less perfect for the life they were building.
The apartment quickly transformed into a home filled with warmth and laughter. Each morning became a cherished ritual: Emma brewed a fresh pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling the air, while Regina prepared breakfast with practiced ease. They’d sit across from each other at the small kitchen table, trading soft smiles and teasing remarks, their conversations flowing as effortlessly as the sunlight through the window.
Evenings were their time to unwind together, often spent in the cozy kitchen. Regina, ever the perfectionist, handled most of the cooking, while Emma leaned against the counter, watching her girlfriend with a mix of awe and affection. The occasional mess—usually caused by Emma’s enthusiastic but uncoordinated attempts to help—always ended in laughter, playful bickering over who was on dish duty, and stolen kisses as they cleaned up. Later, they’d curl up on the couch, Regina’s head resting on Emma’s shoulder, a glass of wine in hand, as the glow of the TV bathed the room in soft light.
Weekends became their time to slow the world down. They’d stroll hand in hand through the nearby park, losing themselves in the shade of the trees and each other’s company. Other days, they stayed in, wrapped up in each other, watching old movies on a screen too small for Emma’s liking but just right for the way it brought them closer. Every corner of their home soon held a memory—of laughter, shared meals, whispered confessions, and quiet moments of togetherness.
Both Regina and Emma had come a long way since the beginning of their relationship.
And as they stood together by the window one evening, gazing out at the cityscape, they couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming gratitude. For Regina, the city had become a place of belonging, its bustling streets and vibrant culture welcoming her with open arms. For Emma, Boston was no longer just a place to live—it was a home, a true home, because it was where she found Regina, the woman who made everything in her life feel whole.
On the night of their anniversary, Emma proposed.
The restaurant had been Regina’s choice, a charming spot nestled in the heart of the city, with soft string lights twinkling above their table and the glow of candles casting golden warmth over their faces.
They sat under the open sky, the gentle rustle of leaves blending with the hum of distant laughter and clinking glasses. The evening felt perfect, almost too perfect, and Emma’s heart wouldn’t stop racing.
It happened during dessert.
Regina was teasing Emma for the way she savored each bite of her crème brûlée when Emma "accidentally" dropped her fork.
“Honestly, Swan, do you need me to fetch you a spare?” Regina quipped, her lips curving into that smile Emma adored.
But Emma was already ducking down, her heart pounding in her chest. When she rose again, it wasn’t with the fork—she was on one knee, a small velvet box held firmly in her trembling hand, her eyes shining with a both excitement and vulnerability.
“Regina…” she began, her voice uncharacteristically soft, almost shy, “Will you marry me?”
Regina’s laughter froze in her throat, replaced by a sharp inhale as her eyes widened. For a moment, the world around them seemed to dissolve, leaving only the two of them under the expanse of the night sky.
Tears welled in Regina’s eyes before spilling over, and her hand flew to her mouth in disbelief. Without hesitation, she slipped off her chair, kneeling before Emma. She cradled Emma’s face in her hands, her voice trembling but sure as she whispered, “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”
Their lips met in a series of hurried, joyful kisses, laughter bubbling between them as tears dampened their cheeks. The ring, delicate and gleaming, found its place on Regina’s finger, and they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms, utterly oblivious to the scattered applause from nearby tables. Time seemed to slow, the city’s lights blurring into a soft backdrop as they clung to one another, lost in the glow of their happiness.
They got married on a gorgeous spring day, a season Regina had insisted upon, calling it the time of "rebirth"—a sentiment that mirrored their journey together.
The venue, a quaint garden draped in cherry blossoms, was alive with the gentle hum of nature. It was the kind of day that felt like it had been made just for them, where even the sunlight seemed to filter through the trees wrapping everything in a warm, golden glow.
Surrounded by their closest friends, the day felt like something out of a dream.
Regina stood at the edge of the aisle, her breath catching as she glimpsed Emma waiting for her at the altar. Dressed in an impeccably tailored white jumpsuit with a low back, Emma looked radiant. Her golden curls cascaded over one shoulder, catching the sunlight. And when their gazes met, Emma’s eyes filled with tears, her smile trembling with uncontainable joy.
Regina walked toward her with slow, deliberate steps, the bouquet trembling slightly in her hands. She wore a gown of deep ivory adorned with intricate lace, her hair swept into an elegant updo with soft locks framing her face. She was breathtaking.
Regina’s promises were poetic and heartfelt, reflecting the profound bond that had healed her soul and brought her light after so much darkness. Emma’s vows, raw and sincere, were a proomise of unwavering loyalty, love, and partnership through all of life's ups and downs.
When they finally kissed, it was full of passion an relief. They had finally made it. Cheers erupted around them, echoing through the garden as petals were tossed into the air, as a new chapter in their lives began.
In the years that followed, their love only grew stronger. They celebrated milestones, anniversaries, and birthdays alike with the same joy and wonder they’d felt on their wedding day. And through it all, they stood side by side, forever grateful for the life they’d built together and the love that had made it all possible.
A few months after celebrating their second anniversary as wives, they found themselves ready to embark on a new journey together: parenthood. This time, their paths were set on adoption. The idea of offering a child a second chance at a loving home was Regina’s idea, and Emma, having a background in the foster system immediately agreed, her eyes filling with tears.
The adoption process, however, was anything but easy. It was a long process, filled with paperwork, interviews, and endless waiting, but the thought of offering a child a second chance at life kept them going.
In the meantime, they threw themselves into preparing their home. The spare room was transformed into a bright, welcoming space with soft, neutral colors and shelves filled with books and toys. But most importantly, they wanted to ensure their child would know, from the moment they arrived, that they were fiercely loved and cherished.
Then, one unforgettable day, the call came.
Regina was in the middle of a city council meeting, Emma out on an investigation, when their phones buzzed simultaneously. Their hands trembled as they listened, the words they’d been waiting for finally spoken: they’d been matched. Within days, they found themselves standing in a quiet room at the agency, nerves and excitement buzzing in the air, as they prepared to meet their daughter for the first time.
When the door opened, they were met with a little baby girl with ashy blonde hair and big brown eyes. Regina and Emma exchanged a glance, both struck by the strange, beautiful irony of how much the child resembled a perfect mix of the two of them.
They named their baby girl Hope, a symbol of the second chance life had given them— a second chance at love, at happiness, and now, at building the life they had always dreamed of.
Hope’s arrival seemed to have come to mend the broken parts of their hearts. Though Henry’s absence was a wound that time could never fully heal, the chance to become parents again felt like a blessing. And as they held their baby girl, their family finally felt complete, and the future looked brighter than ever.
As Hope grew, she was always told stories of her big brother. Emma and Regina made sure his memory lived on, ensuring that Hope felt connected to the sibling she had never met. They shared tales of Henry’s boundless kindness, his insatiable curiosity, and the immense love he had for them. To Hope, he was not just a memory but a cherished part of their family, a guardian angel who watched over them.
“He would’ve adored you,” Regina often whispered, brushing a lock of hair from Hope’s face, her voice tinged with both joy and ache.
Each year, on the anniversary of Henry's passing, the three of them would visit his grave. They brought fresh flowers and sat together beneath the shade of the trees. Regina would recount stories of Henry’s younger years, her voice alive with laughter and the soft lilt of nostalgia. Emma would add tales of her pregnancy, recounting how Henry had made her feel less alone when she needed it most.
Above all, they honored the memory of the young boy who had played such an important role in bringing them together.
In the end, as they gazed out at the life they had built, Emma and Regina found solace in the profound truth that their love was the greatest gift they had ever been given. And that their family, born of pain and perseverance, was the truest reflection of the word home.