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Despite everything seeming to have worked itself out, Emma knew after her and Hook’s return to the present from the Enchanted Forest, that everything would not be the same—no matter how much she wished it could be.
Marian was back, and despite Emma’s steadfast belief that saving the woman had not been a mistake, there was still the issue of Robin. Robin and Regina. Regina, the evil queen. Emma gulped as she stood outside the door to the mayor’s office. She’d pace if her boots weren’t so loud against the marble floor. Instead, Emma wrung her hands out, unsure of what to say to the woman.
Before she’d been sent back, Emma had begun to believe that there might be something more between them than animosity or a resigned promise of peace. They were almost friends, or at least as close to friends as Emma and Regina could be—ten-foot walls and layers of masks included.
But now… Emma bit at the pad of her thumb, restraining a sigh that wanted to escape. She’d seen the scowl Regina had sent her back at Granny’s. She’d seen the look of hatred and disdain. It was all so hard to sort through: her Regina in those tasteful, expensive pants suits, wool coats, and modest hairstyle and the Evil Queen in her tight leather pants, sleek, long dress coats, and corsets that pushed her breasts nearly up to her throat.
Refusing to let her thoughts wander there anymore, Emma raised her fist to the door of Regina’s office and knocked. There was no answer.
“I know you’re in there, Regina,” Emma said, leaning up against the doorframe.
She saw a shadow move from below the door, and turned away, trying to find the right words. What were the right words when you were the sole cause behind the loss of someone else’s happy ending?
“I know things are… complicated, but that doesn’t mean you can’t still find happiness.”
Emma thought about Regina’s smile: when she smiled at Henry. When she smiled at Roland and Robin. The latter made the thought pucker at the edges—crumple like a balled-up photograph.
“I know it sounds impossible right now, but you have to keep fighting for it,” she continued, voice rising. “And if you won’t, then I will. Henry will. All of us will.”
The sound of a heel moving against the floor came from the other side of the door. Emma thought maybe Regina might finally let her in. When after another few seconds, no other indication of movement came, Emma leaned closer to the door. Her next words came out quieter, softer. She imagined reaching out to hold Regina’s shoulder—tipping Regina’s chin up from under the curve of her fingers.
“Henry brought me to Storybrooke to bring back Happy Endings, and as far as I know, I’m not done yet. I still have one very important person left.”
To me and to Henry, she thought without saying.
“That would be you, Regina. I’m not done fighting for you.”
“Did she finally answer your calls?” Henry asked.
He and Emma had decided to get some time away from the Charmings and baby Neal and were strolling past the park.
“I went to see her at her office, actually,” Emma replied.
She stepped heavily on a fallen leaf in front of her, crunching it under the sole.
Henry looked surprised, but quickly smothered the reaction. His eyes gave him away, though. There was more than the just the shock that Emma would go to her. There was something else but what?
“What did she say?” Henry replied.
“Say?” Emma balked. “She said nothing.”
When Emma looked down to see his brows scrunched in confusion, she added, “She didn’t even open the door for me, so I just said my peace and left.”
“Oh.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Henry,” Emma pressed.
“It’s nothing,” Henry said, doubling down.
“Okay. Fine. But if there’s something you need to tell me, I’m a phone call away.”
Pulling him against her side, he laughed and promised he would. He was so much taller now. Emma understood in that moment, more than any before, Regina’s fears and anxieties over spending as much time with Henry during his youth. It really wouldn’t last forever.
Though the first time Emma had gone by Regina’s office had not gone well, Emma refused to give up on her. So what if Emma’s mind refused to let her forget the way Regina had looked in her Evil Queen get-up? She could make it through a conversation with Regina without thinking about her like that. She hadn’t yet but she totally could.
Thanks to Henry and his responsiveness, Emma finally tracked Regina down nearly twenty-four hours later. She was in her vault, standing at her mirror, when Emma came in.
“Miss Swan!” Regina spun around, an accusatory glare in her eyes.
“Hey,” Emma replied, breathless.
“Did you run here?”
“What?”
“You seem…” Regina quieted, shoving away any future questions on the subject, and strode to the other side of the room.
“Did you need something, Miss Swan?”
Emma glanced from Regina to the mirror on the wall. She wanted to ask about its powers. Regina did have the ability to look into it and pull memories out, did she not? But by the way Regina was throwing daggers at her—thankfully, metaphorical ones, currently—Emma guessed that questioning her about the mirror’s magic was not on the table today.
“I came to talk to you, actually.”
Regina rolled her eyes and tried to push past Emma, out of the vault.
“Hold on,” Emma said.
She nearly laid her hand on Regina’s arm, before reconsidering and reaching out for the wall instead. Regina stopped just short of clothes-lining herself and took a step back.
“Do I need to forcibly remove you from this vault as well, or can you take the hint?”
She started walking towards Emma again and didn’t slow down. Before she reached Emma’s arm, there was a poof of purple smoke and less than a second later, she was gone.
Emma gritted her teeth, spun on her heel, and ran for the vault exit. Thankfully, Regina hadn’t gone far and was striding across the grass towards the mansion in the distance.
“Regina!” Emma called out, breaking out into a sprint to reach her.
She wasn’t fast enough to make it back to the mansion before Regina had closed the front door. Resigned to talk to a slab of wood once more, Emma leaned her forehead against the door and sighed.
“Regina, please talk to me,” she all but begged.
Emma wasn’t too convinced Regina was even close enough to the door to hear her this time, so when a voice spoke up less than ten seconds later, Emma nearly jumped out of her skin.
“I don’t want to talk about Robin,” she said.
Even without seeing her face, Emma could picture the set of her jaw and the way her skin would crinkle above her eyes.
“I’m–I’m not here to talk about that.”
Another pause—this one shorter than the last.
“Then what are you here to talk about?”
“I…” Emma racked her brain. “I want you to teach me more about magic.”
“So…”
Henry smiled up at her from the floor in front of the couch.
“How’s magic lessons going?”
Emma cracked one eye open, finding the blurry outline of her son holding a video game controller a few feet away. She let out a groan and sank further back against the couch pillows.
“I’ll take that as a resounding, great!” he teased.
A moment later, his game had finished loading, and he turned back to the TV.
“When did you even get here? I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Grandma was worried about you watching baby Neal alone, so she called me shortly after leaving to come by. I see she was not far off base.”
Emma groaned again. “Sorry about that. I didn’t realize how tired I was.”
“Is Mom really working you that hard?” Henry asked.
Emma blinked down at her son, surely having heard him wrong.
“She what?”
Before Henry could reply, Emma realized what he’d meant, and she rolled over, smothering her face into the back of the couch.
“Never mind,” she added, voice muffled.
Henry chuckled.
“Sure. Okay.”
Sometimes, Emma really wondered how often he thought his moms were truly insane. Right now, she’d probably have to agree with him. She’d only been working with Regina for a week now on her magic, and so far, it was the worst. Between the long hours she was expected to read over Regina’s ancient, dusty magic tomes, to her own inability to pull off the simplest of spells, Emma had almost reached her breaking point. Never mind that any time Regina shot her an unimpressed glare or haughty look of derision, Emma’s brain turned to mush as an almost uncomfortable heat gathered at her core.
Emma could almost imagine the field day Archie would have, dissecting her body and mind’s responses anytime Regina resembled her Enchanted Forest counterpart. It was so inappropriate yet criminally addictive.
All Emma could do was keep her eyes on the prize—that maybe one day, Regina would finally teach her how to use a mirror of her own. Maybe then, Emma could look back on her time in the Enchanted Forest and get this obsession with the Evil Queen out of her system.
“It’s not working, Regina.”
From behind her, Emma could hear Regina as she tromped towards her, footsteps heavy in the grass.
“That’s because you’re focusing too hard.”
Emma jerked her hands down from where she’d been trying to create a simple tracking spell. When she whipped around to face Regina, the other woman was closer than she’d expected. Emma blew a long breath out slowly through her nose.
“Magic doesn’t exist in a vacuum,” Regina explained calmly, despite Emma’s eyes flaring with anger and frustration. “You can’t expect to perform anything of much importance with such tunnel vision.
“Here,” Regina instructed, turning Emma around by her shoulders. “Try again. This time I want you to incorporate the space around you.”
In her peripheral, Emma watched as Regina pointed to a bird sitting on the branch of one of the trees in her backyard.
“I want you to cast the tracking spell on that bird. But this time, use all of your senses. See the yard around us, listen as the leaves rustle, feel the wind on your skin.”
Regina took the smallest of steps closer. In that moment, Emma could feel more than just the wind. She took a steadying breath, closed her eyes, tried to ignore the warmth in her own chest.
She focused on her other senses first: wind, chimes, a squawk, a nearby bus, Regina’s perfume, the cool air, Regina’s hand at the small of her back, Regina’s breath against the shell of her ear.
Emma tore her eyes open. She found the bird in the tree once again and raised her arms.
A second later, a thin, wispy trail of white magic flowed out from her. She started to smile, when she noticed that her magic remained motionless before her.
Move, she all but begged.
But the wispy strand merely hovered above her, dancing as if to tease her for her incompetence.
“Well, it’s a start,” Regina said, though she didn’t sound too enthused.
She began to stalk back to the house for a break. Emma, intending on being close behind her, was about to drop the spell, when the wispy magic started to move. It arced over Emma’s head and glided along the ground, before falling in line behind Regina like a happy, obedient dog.
Quickly, Emma clenched her fists and dropped them to her side.
Nope, nope, nope. So help me God, nope, she thought to herself.
Though magic lessons were fifty percent torture and fifty percent embarrassment, there was an unexpected silver lining. Even if Emma could only make assumptions based on her time with Regina, she did appear happier than she’d been when Emma had first returned from the Enchanted Forest. If the source of that happiness came from Emma’s shortcomings, then so be it.
After the next attack on the town, Regina had shifted their lessons from utility spells, to combat. Though Emma excelled at hitting the stationary targets Regina had set up in her backyard, graduating to on-the-move casting and dodging was another thing entirely.
“You want me to hit you?” Emma asked incredulously.
Standing five feet away, Regina leveled Emma with an exasperated stare, and nodded.
“With magic, of course,” she added with a twinkle in her eye.
Emma huffed. Was this a dig at her prison days? She didn’t have time to dwell on it when a fireball soared past her, inches from her head.
“Hey!” she screamed, clutching her blonde hair as if she’d actually been burned.
Regina just arched a brow, as if to say, get to it, then disappeared in a cloud of smoke.
For the next twenty minutes, Emma practiced lobbing offensive spells at Regina as she disappeared and reappeared across the large expanse of field behind her house. Every time Emma would get lazy and start to slow down, Regina would send a warning fireball her way.
It was during one such instance, when one of the fireballs, usually off-target, soared towards Emma, heading right for her chest. She blocked it at the last second—instinct overcoming her repertoire of spells.
Frustration and confusion flashed in Emma’s eyes, but she didn’t exactly blame Regina. They’d both been expelling a lot of energy and the mistake was without malice. Regina didn’t look as if Emma believed that though, and the moment Emma looked up to find her, she saw Regina retreating, a look of horror in her eyes.
“Regina, wait!” she called out.
Emma was really getting tired of chasing her down, as she ran after her towards the house.
The moment the back door had closed behind Emma, she was searching the downstairs space, looking for the elusive woman. Eventually, she heard the telltale creak of the stairs and caught Regina before she could lock herself away in her bedroom this time.
“Wait,” she called again, quieter with a feeling of defeat.
She took a step up onto the first stair but didn’t make a move to come any closer.
“I know that was an honest mistake,” Emma said, trying to catch Regina’s eye line.
She nodded from the top of the stairs but didn’t look directly at Emma.
“I need you to know, Regina, that I don’t see you as… as that monster anymore, okay?”
At the sound of the word monster, Emma noticed Regina flinch, and she bit down on the inside of her own lip. She really had a knack for putting her foot in her own mouth.
“Emma?”
Regina’s voice sounded so timid—so young.
Emma looked up to find Regina’s dark eyes, soulful and open.
“I’m sorry for how I must have been—for what I did, back then. I know you had to deal with the Evil Queen when you and that pirate were sucked through the portal. I know you had to deal with me, and it hurts me everyday that it happened.”
“It wasn’t you, though.” Emma was quick to jump in.
“It was a part of me. An old part of me but still me. I can’t imagine what you must have been thinking.”
Emma drew her eyes away from Regina, finding the decorative wooden bannister suddenly fascinating. This was so not the time to envision Regina in her regal, dark ensembles—fantastical, alluring eye make-up and all.
“I think it’s probably in both of our best interests not to dwell.”
Regina smiled back, though tight-lipped and wan, and agreed.
From powerful white magic, they moved onto fireballs, coincidentally perfect for the odd ice-related catastrophes occurring across town. Unlike the other spells, which were innate to her own kind of magic, fire was more foreign to Emma. Though not impossible, it was taking extra time.
“Fire is emotion. It’s power. It’s…” Regina trailed off, trying to put her own experiences into words.
Instead of waxing poetic any longer, she dragged Emma out of the house and down to her vault. It wasn’t until they were both standing in front of her mirror, seeing their own images reflected back, that Emma dared to ask.
“Is this the mirror?”
“What mirror?”
“You know,” Emma continued, gesticulating wildly with her hands. “The mirror mirror on the wall… from the Enchanted Forest.”
Regina looked at Emma like she was crazy.
“This mirror is from Macy’s.”
“Oh.” Emma frowned, finding that particular detail less fairytale, more middle-class American.
“Of course, it’s my Enchanted Forest mirror,” Regina said, a moment later.
She smiled slyly at Emma, before directing her attention to a scene forming within the mirror’s surface. It rippled, before the moving image of a dragon incinerating a horde of flying creatures appeared.
“The fire comes from within,” Regina explained, laying a hand across her chest. “Watch as it seems to build through the dragon’s body before release. It’s not a matter of forcing the fire out but of being unable to contain it any longer.”
Emma didn’t know about Regina, but there was definitely something within herself that was building—crying out to be released.
“–and since there are no dragons in Maine,” Regina continued on, though Emma had missed the first part, “I thought you could study the creatures. Focus on imitating their power.”
Emma nodded as she swallowed hard.
“Yes. Makes sense.”
Regina looked over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes at Emma. She didn’t comment though, stepping back once again when the image on the mirror faded away.
“Is there… is there a way I can study the dragons on my own?” Emma asked.
Regina paused, flicked her attention back to the mirror, then at Emma.
“You mean–”
“The mirror.”
“You want to stay down here and watch?” she asked, curiously.
Emma cleared her throat. She really didn’t want to drag this out, but Regina was not catching on.
“I want you to teach me how to do the magic mirror trick.”
“It’s not a trick, Miss Swan.”
“Fine. Spell,” Emma replied, crossing her arms.
Regina huffed, like she was upset that Emma had the audacity to look impatient, then shook her head.
“No. You’re not ready.”
“Really? Why not?”
Emma inched closer to her, hoping their current height difference might intimidate Regina.
It did not.
Regina glared up at Emma, before pushing her back with a single finger pressed up against her sternum.
“Because… You. Are. Not. Ready.”
She eased away after, putting much needed space between them.
At Emma’s crestfallen expression, she added, “Look Emma, it’s not an easy spell to control. Sometimes, it shows you more than you sought, and if you’re not careful…”
Regina didn’t finish her thought; She looked away, sighing.
“You’re just not ready,” she finished.
After Regina continued to act cryptically during their next few magic lessons, their easy banter and friendly exchanges finally returned the following week, seemingly without consequence. Emma was still bummed that Regina had refused to teach her how to use the magic mirror. As her level of chill around the other woman had clearly not improved, she still saw the mirror spell as a necessity but knew pressing Regina on it again too early would be a mistake.
After their lesson on Saturday afternoon, Regina invited Emma to stick around for dinner. It wasn’t like it was the first time she’d asked. It was just the first time she’d extended the invite without Henry around.
Emma watched from the barstool as Regina swirled a pot of pasta with one hand, while dipping her finger into a simmering sauce with the other. Her hair had been tied back to the nape of her neck leaving an expanse of olive skin uncovered. In the moment, all Emma could think about was dipping her lips to the juncture between Regina’s clavicle and neck—confirming with the flick of her tongue if she really did taste as salty as the water boiling in the pot.
“Do me a favour and uncork a bottle of wine, would you Dear?” Regina asked without turning away from the cooktop.
Emma’s feet started to move, even if her brain was still stalled-out on Regina’s term of endearment.
Before Emma could reach for a Merlot on the bottom shelf, Regina added, “the 2003 cabernet blend should do the trick.”
Emma scanned the shelves, trying to find what Regina had requested, but there were so many labels, so many words she did not recognize. It was safe to assume that the circles she’d ran in were not full of wine connoisseurs.
“It’s this one,” Emma heard from behind her, before she felt the press of Regina’s breasts against her back.
All ten of Emma’s toes clenched in her socks as she willed her thoughts to stay pure.
Henry, Mary margaret, Granny, Ruby…
“No,” she muttered out loud.
“No?” Regina asked.
She’d finally taken a step back, cradling the bottle in her hands.
“No, let me,” Emma said, stepping forward and taking the bottle from Regina.
She went over to the drawer on the right and pulled out the wine opener.
“Thanks,” Regina replied, quietly.
Dinner was just as delicious as Emma had come to expect. Across from each other, the table set for two, they bonded over their mutual dislike of the Enchanted Forest.
“I’d never thought I’d ever truly appreciate the finer things in life,” Emma remarked.
“Like modern housing and amenities?”
“Like toilet paper.”
Regina snorted into her glass of wine, before wiping off her lips with her serviette.
“Warn me, Dear, if you’re going to say something like that again.”
Dear. There it was again.
Emma raised her glass to hide her pink cheeks.
“You must miss some things, no?”
Regina raised her hand to her chin, pondering the thought. After already going through most of the wine, Regina’s cheeks too, appeared flushed.
“Yes, I do. I miss the beauty of the forest. I miss the rolling hills and deep valleys. I miss the abundance of nature, but it can be hard to paint the details sometimes.
She’d been staring past Emma, a far-off look in her eye, when she appeared to have an idea.
“Stay,” she said. “I want to show you something.”
She rose from her chair and walked behind Emma’s to a long rectangular mirror hung on the wall of the dining room. She raised her hand like she’d done before the dragons had appeared, then stopped when they both heard a noise.
“Mom!” The long, drawn-out sound accompanying Henry as he came through the door forced both woman to look away from the mirror.
“Oh, hey,” he said, upon finding them both in the dining room. “Are you guys working on Operation Mongoose?”
Operation what?
“Henry,” Regina said, pacing towards him. “I was just spending time with Emma, is all.”
From the corner of her eye, Emma watched as Henry mouthed her own name back, clear intrigue in his eyes.
“We can talk about operation mongoose tomorrow,” Regina said in a lower voice, but still easily heard by Emma.
Henry seemed reluctant to leave, but after shooting a terrible wink in Emma’s direction, padded up the stairs to his room.
“Sorry about that.” Regina looked around, then set her glass of wine back on the table.
“You were going to show me something from the Enchanted Forest,” Emma prompted.
“Right. Yes. Of course.”
She meandered back to the mirror, but this time, instead of completing the enchantment in her head, Regina spoke the words out loud—mostly clear apart from a slight slur on the Latin.
Emma knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help but mentally take note of the whole thing, repeating it over and over to herself as not to forget. Once Regina had finished showing her images from her own world, Emma pulled her phone out beneath the table and phonetically wrote down the entire incantation.
“So, are you like, dating my mom now?” Henry asked a few weeks later.
They had sat down for lunch at Granny’s before Emma was to drop him off at Regina’s later.
Thankfully, Ruby had not brought their drinks out yet, so the potential for spewed liquid was zero.
“Excuse me?”
“You know? That thing adults do when they’re romantically interested in another adult.”
Emma wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face. Damn teenagers.
“No,” she replied, succinctly. “Your mother and I are not… dating.”
Instead of looking upset or confused, Henry only shrugged and turned his attention back to the rest of the diner, probably looking for Ruby so they could order soon.
“Why would you think that?” Emma asked a minute later, unable to drop the subject now that he’d brought it up. “Did Regina say something.”
Ruby chose that moment to deposit a milkshake in front of Henry and a Diet Coke in front of Emma. She waited patiently for him to slurp up the top half of it, before wiping the whipped cream off his upper lip and grinning over at her.
“No,” he finally replied.
Emma felt her body sag, unsure what she’d been hoping for.
“But I’m not blind,” he followed-up. “I know you two have dinner together every night when I’m at Grandma’s or a friend’s house.”
“So? We’re friends.”
“I’ve seen the way your eyes follow Mom around town, too.”
Emma felt her cheeks get hot. She hadn’t realized she’d been so obvious.
“But don’t worry. Mom does too; she’s just less obvious about it.”
Emma tried to laugh it off, but even her best acting work would in no way convince her son he was wrong. Her silence alone was telling.
“Fine. But not a word to your mom.”
“That you’re dating?”
Emma wanted to throttle him.
“Got it,” he said, and shot her a thumbs up.
As much of a roller coaster as today had been, shit truly hit the fan at exactly 3:12 that afternoon. Emma had just dropped Henry off at Regina’s house, before noticing he’d left his backpack in the backseat. After swinging back around, she walked up the path to the mansion, Henry’s bag hanging at her side.
They obviously had not moved far from the entrance, because the moment Emma stepped up onto the porch, she could hear their voices through the door.
“I don’t understand,” Henry was saying in that voice all kids seem to fall back on when they’re tired or overly emotional.
“I told you from the beginning what this operation was about,” Regina said.
Emma felt bad about eavesdropping but not so bad as to let her presence be known just yet.
“Yes, I know. But I thought we were already making progress.”
There was a pause. A whisper. Words Emma couldn’t make out. And then–
“I told you I wanted to rewrite my own story. I want my happy ending. I want to be happy.”
Regina’s voice broke on the last word. Emma felt as if she’d completely broke as well.
Without realizing it, the backpack had fallen from her grasp, landing with a solid thud. As if knowing she needed magic now more than ever, she disappeared in a cloud of white smoke before the door to 108 Mifflin Street could even open.
With David on shift at the station and Snow at some Mommy and Me event at the Library, Emma was given the whole apartment to drink in peace. She’d started with the two beers, cold in the fridge, before remembering at the last moment where Killian had hidden his stash of rum.
The liquor was not her drink of choice, but it did its job, burning as it slid down her throat to settle hot in her stomach. Emma couldn’t believe she’d actually thought there could’ve been something there—something more—with Regina. She laughed over a boozy hiccup, before tossing the flask to the floor. It slid far, before bouncing off the bathroom door.
Huh, Emma thought to herself. Now that was an idea.
Forcing herself up from the couch, Emma wobbled her way to the bathroom, before flicking on the switch. The counter was covered in bottles—perfumes, baby shampoos, a giant-ass 3 in 1 that must have belonged to David or her son.
Emma pushed them aside until she could lean both elbows on the stained resin surface. She stared down her reflection, noting the red around her eyes. She’d told herself she wouldn’t cry, but clearly, she’d failed at that too.
After pulling her phone from the back pocket of her jeans, Emma scrolled until she found the note she’d written weeks back. Her poor attempt at sounding out the Latin incantation wasn’t her only problem. Actually being able to focus on the text long enough to read it out in full came next.
Slowly, and most likely sounding like a milk-drunk toddler, Emma started to read the words out loud. With every failed attempt, she’d start over, each time glancing up with further determination in her eyes.
She didn’t wan to care so much. She didn’t want to feel like this. It had all been her fault—the Evil Queen. Flouncing around in her stupidly sexy outfits. Taunting Emma, even after she’d returned to Storybrooke.
Emma read the incantation out once more. This time, an image appeared on the mirror before her, but it wasn’t what she’d wanted.
“Her name is Marian. Thanks to Emma, she’s back.”
Regina stood in her vault, Henry’s story book laid out between herself and Sidney. They seemed to be discussing the book’s power—it’s control over events in their world and all others.
“We’re going to change things,” Regina continued, her wide, dark lips curving into a smile.
“How?” Sidney asked.
“She needs to be removed.”
Sidney nodded, beginning to understand Regina’s request, when–
“I told you not to use that spell.”
Emma jerked her gaze away from the mirror and over to Regina, standing within the doorframe to the bathroom.
“Re–”
Emma couldn’t even get her full name out, before she began to back away from Emma, as if Emma had been the one that had hurt others. As if Emma had been the one to betray her.
As Regina disappeared a second later in a cloud of purple smoke, Emma realized that maybe, this time, she had.
It took Emma a dose of extra-strength Tylenol, two glasses of water, and a long ten-hour sleep to finally return to the land of the living. She blinked her eyes open, first spotting the black screen of the TV, then the time blinking back at her from the cable box below.
At some time last night, David and Snow must have returned, because there was a blanket pulled up to Emma’s shoulders. It had that newborn baby smell, and Emma breathed it in, finding some comfort in the scent.
Though her alarm would be waking her in just two and a half hours, Emma pulled herself to sitting, determined to sleep the remainder of her night in an actual bed. She’d just made it to the stairs, when she heard the microwave beep from the kitchen.
“Hello?” she called out.
No one answered.
There weren’t many break ins in Storybrooke and even less cases of burglars heating up your leftovers during a B&E; still, Emma righted herself and moved cautiously to the kitchen.
From beneath the warm, yellow light of the microwave, Henry stood in his pajamas, a Tupperware of enchiladas steaming in his hands.
“Henry?” Emma rubbed at her eyes. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be at Regina’s. Does she know you’re here? Oh, she’s gonna kill us both if she doesn’t.”
“Hey, hey, hey.” Henry rushed over to her before she could experience a full-on meltdown. “I’ll explain in a second, Ma. Here.”
He handed her the food—which smelled way too good for leftovers—then led her to the table.
With the threat of not answering a single one of her questions, he forced her to get down at least half of the meal, before delving in.
In as few words as possible, which Emma deeply appreciated given the early hour and her increasingly pounding headache, Henry recounted the events from the day before. How once Regina had settled him down, she’d gone in search of Emma. The Bug parked in front of the mansion sort of gave her away but played no part in tracking Emma down. By the time Regina had returned to the house, she’d looked a mess; distraught didn’t even begin to cover it.
“I know it was a mistake,” Emma said, poking at a large glob of cheese stuck to the side of the container.
Regina had every right to be angry with her. She’d done exactly what Regina had told her not to do. But could Emma really be blamed? Regina had been plotting to what? Kill Marian?
No.
No matter what Emma had seen, the image reflected on the mirror was wrong.
“I know she’s mad at me and I really am sorry,” Emma continued.
Henry pursed his lips.
“What?”
Henry ran his hand through his hair, tousling it until it stuck out in every direction.
“Did Mom ever explain what Operation Mongoose is?”
The name rang a bell. Regina had seemed almost… embarrassed when Henry had brought it up that evening after dinner.
After shaking her head no, Henry spoke about the conversation he’d had with Regina weeks back after Emma and Hook’s return from the past. She’d wanted a happy ending of her own, and Henry had been more than on board to help her with that.
“I hurt her, didn’t I?” Emma’s voice sounded—well, not her own.
She was used to letting people down but hurting them like she had Regina was something else entirely.
“Does she know you’re here?”
For the first time that morning, Henry looked ashamed.
“No,” he said, scratching at a small indent in the table.
Emma assumed as much. She motioned for him to stand. It was nearly 5:30 in the morning now. The sun would be coming up shortly, and if Emma knew Regina as well as she thought she had, there was no doubt in her mind, that the woman never slept through first light.
Just as they were making their way to the front door, a knock sounded from the other side. Both mother and son froze, a look of true terror copied from one face to the other. Neither had to guess who it was.
“You. Car. Now,” Regina said, the moment Emma pulled the door open.
“But–”
“The car,” Regina repeated.
Head hung low, Henry stepped around Emma and disappeared down the front stairs. Emma watched him go, unwilling to face Regina quite yet. She knew she had to do something, lest she met the fate of another door closed in her face.
“Regina…”
As soon they were alone, all the thoughts circulating in Emma’s mind for the past hour seemed to vanish.
“What?”
Emma cringed at the ice in her voice. It felt like the beginning all over again. A chainsaw to the mayor’s tree. A warning to stay away from her son. Emma only hoped they wouldn’t backslide to that place.
“I should have called the moment he turned up at the apartment,” Emma began.
She had more to say, yet Regina was quicker—an absence of alcohol in her system probably helped with that.
“You should have,” she cut in.
Maybe Emma was crazy. Maybe she was seeing things for how she wanted to see them, but Regina actually sounded… not as angry as she’d anticipated.
“But I already knew,” Regina continued. “Who did you think had him deliver the food?”
“You–” Emma blinked back at Regina. She felt the side of the door slip from her grasp as her brain proverbially record-scratched. Did she hear Regina right? “You had him deliver the food?”
”Yes. Although, I thought we agreed he’d come by at a proper hour.”
Regina moved further into the apartment, letting the front door close with a click. The notion that she was staying was a good sign; her refusal to remove her coat was not.
“I’m fine,” Regina said, shrugging off Emma’s attempt to hang her coat.
She took a seat on the edge of David’s recliner and stared ahead at the TV.
The sight of her before Emma was all wrong. Where was the looming, intimidating figurehead? Where was the self-assured, politician? Where was the woman that had raised Henry for ten years on her own?
“Look, Regina.” Where was she going with this? “I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I should have trusted your judgement when you told me I wasn’t ready.”
Instead of gloating or reminding Emma that yes, she was wrong, Regina tapped her gloved hands against the sides of her knees.
Emma could see the gears turning in her head but wasn’t sure what conclusion they were forming.
Eventually, Regina asked, “Did you see what you needed to see then?”
Without meeting her eyes, it was hard for Emma to gauge her reaction. If there was anyone that could hide their true emotion better than Emma herself, it was Regina.
“No, actually, I didn’t.”
Regina nodded, but her tapping didn’t slow.
Every muscle in Emma’s body felt tense. It was as if she could feel her heartbeat everywhere, pounding, pulsing, racing.
“I was tying to pull a memory of you from the Enchanted Forest,” Emma explained.
Regina’s mouth pulled in a taut line, but she remained quiet.
“You see,” Emma continued. Her breathing stuttered, and her words seemed to trip over themselves as she forced them out. “I was totally obsessed with you.” Emma blew out another shaky breath. “After the Enchanted Forest, all I could think about was you—the Evil Queen you—in those outfits. God, Regina, those outfits. Do you have any idea how conflicted I felt? All I wanted was to forget and seeing you again–” Emma felt her hands shake at her sides. This wasn’t coming out right. “I just needed to see her again with my own eyes. Find the distinguishing line between you. And yeah, I know it’s a little pervy. Believe me. I know. But that’s the truth.”
“Is that all?” Regina asked.
Is that all? Really? Understatement of the century.
“Yes, that’s all,” Emma replied, somehow managing to suppress the need to stare wide-eyed at the woman—possibly even shake her.
Had she known all along? No. Impossible. Still, Emma wanted—no, needed—answers.
“Regina–”
“If that’s all, then I should be leaving. Henry has school in a couple hours, and I have work.”
She drew her coat closer towards her, then let herself out, not turning back once.
“Is that all?” Emma laughed pathetically to the quiet apartment.
Her gaze fell to the flask, still sitting in the corner near the bathroom door. She began to walk towards it, when she saw her mother in the doorway to their bedroom.
“Emma, was someone just here?” she asked, rubbing sleep from her eyes.
Emma just shook her head, before diverting to the bathroom and closing the door.
Four days. Four days! That’s how long Regina had been ignoring her calls and messages. That’s how long it’d been since Emma had seen her. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe, once the hurt had dissipated, the anger really had taken over. What else could explain Regina’s expert avoidance tactics?
The afternoon before Emma was scheduled to pick Henry up from school—another part of Regina’s plan to ice her out, no doubt—she found herself alone in a booth at Granny’s. She hadn’t picked Henry up from school in weeks and was just texting him to ask what time he got out, when he appeared before her table, instead.
“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” she asked.
“At this time? No. Not since Elementary school.”
Huh.
Emma cleared her empty plate to the side and invited him to join her. The moment he’d sat down across from her, she knew he wanted answers, but so did she.
“Operation Mongoose.”
Henry cocked his head to the side in question.
“You said it was to find your mother’s happy ending. So why, when I overheard you after dropping you off that day, did you seem resistant to it?”
Henry sighed. “It’s complicated, Ma.”
Emma chortled. “Oh, is it now?” Emma motioned for Ruby to refill her mug of coffee, before she leaned closer to Henry and lowered her voice. “What’s complicated is explaining to your mother how I’ve been obsessed with her since meeting the Evil Queen in the Enchanted Forest and her walking out on me like I’d just updated her on next week’s weather forecast.”
“Obsessed?” Henry asked.
Emma smacked his arm lightly. “Is that really all you caught from that?”
Henry shrugged.
“Look.” Emma took a steadying breath—in through the nose, out through the mouth. “Let’s just say I took a special interest in Regina’s outfits during my time in the Enchanted Forest.”
Henry gave her a quizzical look, before things started to click.
“Oh… Oh!” He screwed up his face and looked away. “So, what’s happened now?”
“I don’t know. Ask your mother,” Emma replied. “She’s been giving me the cold shoulder for days. Even after I explained why I’d used the magic mirror spell, she continues to ice me out.”
Henry said nothing, yet his face spoke volumes.
“What’s with the look?” Emma asked.
Henry leaned further over the table, his long-sleeved shirt cuffs pushing away the crumbs from her grilled cheese sandwich.
“I apologized. I explained what happened. Yet she continues to ignore me.”
“Of course she is, Ma,” Henry replied.
“Wait. Why Of course?”
Henry gave her a look that screamed, with pre-teen attitude, seriously?
“You’re still not being honest with her.”
“Yes, I have,” Emma said, feeling more like the teen now, with her petulant frown and crossed arms. “Disturbingly honest.”
“Yeah… But saying you have the ‘hots’ for the Evil Queen,” he explained with air-quotes, “—which by the way, ew—is basically on par with Mom thinking you still see her that way. That you don’t see her as a changed person.”
Emma cleared her throat, but Henry pushed on.
“If all you mentioned was the way you felt about the Evil Queen, then that doesn’t exactly say much about how you feel about her now.”
“So, I need to tell Regina that I have the hots for her too?” Emma said, brow crinkling at the centre.
Henry looked as if he’d rather be anywhere but here. Still, he replied, “Sure,” even though his expression read, I’ve just bitten into a moldy apple.
After shaking his head as if to clear away any icky thoughts, he followed-up with, “Maybe start with how you actually like her and want to date her and possibly even love her.”
When Emma’s face blanched at the l-word, Henry sent her a self-satisfied smirk.
The million-dollar question here, was is he right, though? Did Emma like Regina? Sure, she enjoyed spending time with her, and of course she was attractive. But did she want to do the whole nine yards with the woman? Could Emma see them holding hands as they walked down Main Street? Sharing a parting kiss in the mornings? Sharing more than a kiss the night before?
Emma’s cheeks reddened as she allowed her mind to stray into uncharted territory, willing herself not to throw in any tight leather or dark corsets to those thoughts while sitting in the diner across from her son.
“But what about operation Mongoose?” Emma asked, pulling herself back to the present. “She all but admitted I could never be her happy ending.”
Henry turned a cheeky, raised brow at her, so reminiscent of his mother.
“What do you think I’ve been trying to do here,” he replied.
Before Regina could leave for the day, Emma drove to town hall, and waited outside her office for her 3:30 appointment to finish. Her secretary had been kind enough to let her wait while she went to fetch copies from the printer. Still, as four o’clock came and went, no one emerged from her office.
Emma approached the door calmly and quietly, as to not rock the boat even further. When she tried for the handle, it wouldn’t budge. It was locked.
“Regina?” Emma asked.
The light was still on inside, but not even the sound of footsteps could be heard. Emma leaned her head against the wall next to the door and sighed. It was late, at least for a government building, without another soul in the hall. Emma sank to the floor beside the door, and let her hands fall to her lap.
“You know, I’m really terrible at this whole apology thing. You should thank our son, or else I’d never find my way.”
Emma laughed. She didn’t expect a response back, yet she was still hurt by the silence she was met with. Her gaze fell to her lap as she picked at the loose threads on her jeans.
“Look, Regina. I shouldn’t have spied on you like that. It was never my intention. I just need you to trust me when I tell you that I don’t see you like that—like the Evil Queen—anymore. You aren’t a monster, and I haven’t thought of you as one in a long time. I was just enamoured by her style and presence, I guess. The Evil Queen might have drag queens jealous, but you, Regina, are the only one I want to be around.”
Emma turned to the door, laying her ear against the surface, but still heard not a peep.
“At least say something, Regina!” Emma grumbled. “What do you need to hear from me? That I think about you constantly? That our dinners were the highlight of my week? How about that you actually make me want to learn more about magic, huh? Or maybe you just need me to give you the upper hand—finally admit to you that yes, I like you, Regina. In fact, I even might love–”
“Let’s not get too ahead of ourselves, Miss Swan,” another voice commented.
It wasn’t coming from within the office, though, but from down the hall.
“Regina?” Emma hopped to her feet quickly.
“We haven’t even gone on a proper date, yet.” She paused, a wicked look in her eyes. “You haven’t even seen the inside of my bedroom.”
“Regina–”
“Look, I should have you know that I am a traditional woman. I don’t confess love until at least the tenth date.”
“Regina!” Emma practically yelled.
“Yes, Em-ma?”
“How much of that did you hear?”
Regina shrugged. “Enough?”
“Enough for what?” Emma replied, brows knitting together.
“Enough to tell you those dinners were the highlight of my week as well.”
With understanding dawning on Emma’s face, she took one, two, three steps toward Regina until they were nearly nose to nose.
“And what does your traditional values say about kissing before a first date?”
“Oh,” Regina said, leaning back a smidge to properly ponder the question. “I’d say you’re wrong.”
“How’s that?” Emma murmured back, her resolve not to just the grab the woman dwindling by the second.
“I’d say after all those dinners, we must at least be on date five.”
Despite everything that had happened since coming back from the Enchanted Forest, something had to be said about consistency. Particularly, that it was boring. Sure, things had been fine before, but Emma Swan did not want fine.
Emma Swan wanted Regina. She wanted Regina against the outside of her office door as they made out like teenagers—over the shirt action and nothing more. She wanted quiet nights in front of the fire, wordless conversations passing between them as Storybrooke’s first snowfall of the season began outside the window. She wanted feelings and emotions and not just during sad puppy commercials. Most importantly, she wanted her family, however complicated and unconventional, and wasn’t afraid to admit that anymore.
On their first official date, exactly two days later, Emma knew all those things to be true. They’d gone to the nicest French restaurant in town—Regina’s idea—but ended the night strolling along the pier with cheap ice cream from the convenience store—Emma’s idea.
“So, how bad was it, Dear?” Regina asked as she watched Emma make a mess of her dessert.
“How bad was what?” Emma replied, untrusting of the mischief behind Regina’s eyes.
“I believe you used the word obsessed.”
If Emma could bury her face in her hands, she would have. Unfortunately, both were sticky as she popped the last bite of cone in her mouth.
“Am I wrong?” Regina teased.
She handed Emma a wet wipe from her bag, always the mom.
“You’re not wrong, per se.”
Regina’s brows lifted.
“I just had a strong appreciation for your outfits.”
“Uh huh. So, if I were to say…” Regina flicked her wrist, and in the place of her date night dress, an ensemble, all in black with tight pants and a generous, low-cut top appeared. “Bring this out, you’d just have appreciated the outfit?”
Emma, slack-jawed with her heart beating on the floorboards in front of her, tried to recover, but it was too late.
Regina nudged Emma’s chin up, forcing her gaze away from her chest.
“I… I certainly appreciate that you made the smart, logical, well-thought-out decision to bring these with you from the Enchanted Forest, of course.”
“Yes, well… This won’t exactly be an everyday thing.”
“No?”
Regina shot her a deadpan expression.
“Why do you have them then, if you never wear them?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Regina replied, strolling ahead. They’d reached the end of the pier, and she stared out at the misty, late-October water. “I think that’s more of a third date question, don’t you think?”
Before Emma could reply, Regina winked and strode off back down the pier towards the shore. When Emma’s legs finally allowed her to turn and catch up, she found Regina only a few paces ahead. A hand was extended towards her, and Emma took it gratefully.
They’d almost made it back to the car, when a thought struck Emma.
“But wait. I thought you said our dinners counted for at least five dates already?’
“They don’t.”
“Are you sure?”
Regina moved to walk around to the other side of the Mercedes, when Emma pulled her back by the hand.
“Emma,” she warned. “Would you like me to change my clothes back now? I can.”
Emma’s eyes widened, and she released her hold on Regina.
“No ma’am,” she added a second later, suddenly feeling extremely polite.
Despite being released, Regina hung back, leaning against the passenger’s side door. Her gaze seemed to make its way around Emma’s face, cataloguing every detail down to the peach fuzz coating Emma’s cheeks. When her eyes fell to Emma’s lips, Emma knew what was coming next.
They met in the middle. A tender press of lips, a slow slide of tongue, before they drew away in unison. When Emma leaned back in, teeth nipping at Regina’s bottom lip, Emma felt Regina grasp onto her wrist.
“Patience,” she whispered, before swaying back toward her and drawing Emma’s lips apart.
It was so tempting to bite down, push into her eagerly or pull Regina’s body against her own. Emma could behave for now at least. There were no promises for later.