Table of Contents

heartsways - Fragments Of A Life Less Lived

Disclaimer

Fragments Of A Life Less Lived - Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18

Part 19

Part 20

Part 21

Part 22

Part 23

Part 24

Part 25

Part 26

Part 27

Part 28

Part 29

Part 30

Part 31

Part 32

Part 33

Part 34

Part 35

Part 36

ONCE UPON A TIME - EMMA SWAN/REGINA MILLS

Fragments Of A Life Less Lived

heartsways

Title: Fragments Of A Life Less Lived

Author: heartsways

Rating: NC–17

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Regina/Emma

Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for–profit, it constitutes fair use. Reference to real persons, places, or events are made in a fictional context, and are not intended to be libelous, defamatory, or in any way factual.

Summary: This started as a character study of Regina and just turned into something…else. Long and angsty. You have been warned. ;)

Author’s Note: You can find me on twitter: heartsways or on tumblr

Fragments Of A Life Less Lived

heartsways

Henry had left one of his shoes on the stairs again. With a barely restrained sigh of irritation, Regina picked it up between thumb and forefinger, letting it dangle from her grip as though it was a foreign object. She liked her house kept the way she liked it: orderly and controlled. Just like she preferred everything else in her life. There had been enough chaos already; enough disorder that imprinted itself on her mind and left an unsettling feeling in her chest. It wasn’t enough that Henry’s birth mother had arrived in Storybrooke and refused to leave. No; it was really more to do with the fact that Regina, despite her deep–seated suspicions and fears, couldn’t quite bring herself to banish the woman forever.

She started up the curved staircase, taking each step with a weary gait. It wasn’t that she didn’t possess the power to make Emma Swan go away forever. If she’d wanted to, she could have quite literally erased the woman from the face of the earth. Power came in many forms and Regina had a grip on most, if not all, of them.

In the greater scheme of things, Henry’s birth mother turning up ten years after the event probably wouldn’t have caused such great amounts of alarm to the Mayor. In fact, given some consideration, Regina might have been quite equivocal about it, all told.

But Emma Swan hadn’t ‘just turned up’, had she? She had been sought out, brought here by the son that Regina had raised, loved, nurtured. The fact that she had decided to not only stay but to integrate herself into the town — into Regina’s town — seemed like a betrayal of huge proportions.

Regina glanced down at the shoe in her grasp and her lips tightened into a firm line of discontent. It seemed that she was destined to spend her time cleaning up the detritus of Henry’s life; however it chose to manifest itself.

But she would continue doing it; it was best for Henry. Best for their family. And she’d worked so hard to have one — sacrificed her sense of wellbeing and her heart — that she wasn’t about to allow Emma Swan to take it from her. So she would clean up Henry’s mess, tidy up the house and their lives, make things the way that they were.

Turning onto the landing at the top of the stairs, Regina stopped suddenly, heart lurching in her chest. Through the window she had caught sight of her orchard; another thing that she’d nurtured and cared for more than she’d ever admit. Another thing that Emma Swan had tainted and fractured. Her eyes lingered over the branches that had been sawn through, the limbs cut short, ugly and pale underneath the comforting darkness of the outer layers.

It wasn’t enough that Emma had violated her property. She’d also violated the tenuous relationship Regina had with her son. Loving someone beyond the telling of it and receiving nothing in return had pierced Regina’s heart with the sharpness of a poisoned thorn. Seeing Henry love Emma so easily and with such fervor had only served to spread the poison throughout Regina’s whole body, it seemed.

And yet, she had allowed Emma to remain in Storybrooke. Allowed the woman to roam freely, take up residence, make friends and allies.

For a woman who knew every move days before she made it and was certain and sure of the consequences of her actions, Regina Mills simply couldn’t explain her reticence to get rid of Emma permanently. It confused her almost as much as the love she felt for her son — a boy who saw her as the villain of the piece. Because how could one give so much love when it was clear it would never be reciprocated? And how could she stand by and watch as the object of that love gave his affections to someone else?

Blinking, Regina realized she’d been standing by the window for several minutes. Tearing her gaze away from the crooked, damaged tree in her orchard, she drew in a breath, straightening her back and assuming the confident, authoritarian posture that came as second nature to her. It wouldn’t do to let Henry know how she felt. Fear was a weakness that could be exploited to terrible ends.

And Regina Mills was going to get her happy ending, no matter what.

Throwing open the door to Henry’s bedroom with a rather more dramatic flair than she’d intended, she saw her son curled up on his bed with a book open on his knees.

No. Not a book. The book. The one he hid from her and pored over when he thought she wasn’t looking.

Two large, startled eyes met her own as she stood in the doorway and Regina couldn’t stop the pang of regret that clenched at her heart. She never wanted to give Henry cause for grief and yet it seemed that lately, that was all she did. Nobody had told her that being a mother was an intricate game.

Which was odd, really, because when it came to intricate games requiring the greatest, deftest of skills and mental acuity, Regina Mills was a master.

But she didn’t know the rules of this game, nor did she have the upper hand. Those facts alone were enough to dispel the pang of fear in her chest and etch a frown across her delicately smooth brow.

“What have I told you,” she began in a rather more stentorian tone than she’d intended, “about leaving your shoes around the house?”

Henry blinked, his face impassive. Just once, Regina thought wearily, she wanted to see something on his features. Anything. But the child was resolutely emotionless when it came to her and even if he did show anything, it was a barely disguised fear and loathing.

It hurt her more than she cared to admit to anyone. Especially to herself.

“I’m sorry,” he said, although it was clear to her that he wasn’t.

She dropped his shoe just inside the doorway, breaking the invisible barrier that prevented her from entering. When her son had that book on his lap, she knew better than to approach him. It was a secret as yet unshared; the stories that he clung to and believed in, if that charlatan of a therapist was to be trusted.

And in those stories, Regina had been cast as the Evil Queen: the fount of all that was unholy and bereft of anything like the love she wanted to lavish upon him.

That hurt her, too. Perhaps more than anything else. Because if her own son believed that she was inherently evil, then nothing in this world could change that. Or any other world, she thought grimly, casting a baleful glance towards the book on Henry’s lap.

He scooted further up onto his bed, shifting backwards against the pillows behind him and clutched at the book with both hands, his knuckles turning white.

Regina’s mouth formed a firm line. Things had rubbed along nicely until Emma Swan had come to town — and stayed. Or, at least, that was the lie she told herself, wanting to believe it as fervently as Henry wanted to believe in fairytales.

“Don’t do it again,” she admonished, nodding curtly at his apology. She half–turned out of the doorway before spinning around on her heel. “And can’t you find something else to read?” she barked. “I’m sick of seeing that book.”

Henry cocked his head curiously, staring at her with eyes that seemed older than his years.

“I like this book,” he explained simply.

“I don’t,” she replied sharply. She saw it then, the imperceptible flash of fear in his eyes. Her own son, afraid of her. And she, standing in his doorway, hands on hips, assuming the pose of the Evil Queen he believed her to be.

It was too much. Too much to bear and too much to see reflected in the eyes of a child. Because if he thought she was evil and the source of all the pain in his small life, then who was she to refute those beliefs? Everything she’d ever done for him paled into comparison when he had that book on his lap; when he opened it and allowed the words and stories inside to seep into his brain. She became irrelevant; her love for him, unwanted.

The lump that formed in her throat stretched across the abyss inside and Regina swallowed painfully, looking away from her son.

“Bedtime soon,” she told him, ignoring his open–mouthed protest and holding up one finger to ward off his rebuke. “Ten minutes, Henry.”

For a moment it seemed as though he was going to argue his case, but even as he sat bolt upright on his bed, he thought better of it and his shoulders sagged.

“Okay,” he sighed.

Regina nodded, satisfied that she’d asserted her authority over him. It happened so rarely these days that she took her small victories wherever she could. However petty they might be.

She turned in the doorway and stopped, casting a stern look over her shoulder. “And no sneaking out,” she ordered.

This time, she didn’t wait to see the expression on his face.

She was barely at the foot of the stairs when there was a rapid knocking on her front door. Lips pursing into a moue of annoyance, Regina moved towards it, ready to unleash recriminations on whoever was disturbing her evening. She liked routine; she liked putting Henry to bed and having time to herself. Her Mayoral duties were demanding enough to eke into personal time so much that when she did have a free evening, she rather liked to spend it alone.

Or with Graham. But lately he’d been less attentive than usual. Another thing Emma Swan had ruined with her particular brand of poison, Regina thought.

Fingers closing around the door handle, Regina yanked it open quite unceremoniously, mouth already open with barely restrained rebuke. But before she had the opportunity to speak, the figure on the doorstep lurched forwards almost breathlessly.

“Can I come in?” Emma asked, although her foot was already over the threshold even as she asked permission.

Frowning, Regina found that she stepped backwards, allowing Emma entrance to the house. Even as she did, she couldn’t help wondering why. Couldn’t help the faint thrill of anticipation as the blonde pushed past her and the ire that rose in her throat, swelling it slightly.

“Miss Swan,” Regina closed the front door with a click, swallowing and regaining some of the composure with which she approached all battles — always had done, too. “I’m not sure why you’re here, but if this is official business I’m certain it can wait until tomorrow. Make an appointment with my secretary and we can — ”

“No,” Emma turned on the spot in the huge hallway and threw up her hands, letting them slap back onto her thighs as she gave a huge sigh. “No, Regina, I — this isn’t official business. I wanted to talk about Henry.”

The mention of the boy’s name flickered in Regina’s eyes: confusion, fear, the innate protection that surged in her chest. Folding her arms over her chest, she turned to face Emma, fixing the other woman with a steady, dark gaze.

“Henry is not your concern.”

Emma gave a tight smile, but her eyes were hard, bright.

“He’s my son,” she said slowly, her voice catching over the word, over the responsibility it represented, over the lost years that she knew she would never get back.

Regina let out a faint hum of appraisal, tilting her head to one side. Then she took two hasty steps forward, moving much closer to Emma than was necessary. But intimidation was invasion; Regina had always known that. She moved with precision, heels tapping on the wooden floor, predatory confidence shining in her eyes as she stepped into Emma’s personal space.

If the other woman was afraid, she chose not to show it. And wasn’t that the frisson that existed between them? For the first time in years — 28 years, to be exact — Regina Mills had met someone who wasn’t scared of her. Emma’s shoulders squared a little and she held the Mayor’s gaze with a defiance that Regina had only ever seen in the eyes of her son.

Emma’s son.

“Henry,” Regina began in an even, low tone, “hasn’t been your son for ten years, Miss Swan. You gave him away. You abandoned him just like you abandon everyone. Henry isn’t alone any more. But you, Emma…”

The Mayor lifted her eyes, rolling them dismissively and smirking at Emma. “You are alone. And you always will be. Because you simply don’t have the strength of character to commit. Isn’t that right?”

The eyebrow that quirked at Emma was mocking and the blonde bristled. She’d decided on the way here that she wasn’t going to let Regina get under her skin. She’d focused on the burgeoning relationship with Henry, with what it might mean. Regina was a necessary evil if she were to pursue that relationship. But until now; until this moment, Emma hadn’t realized or even understood that, despite her best efforts, Regina was not merely under her skin.

She was all over it, like a sheen of desperation and wicked intent.

It made Emma shift on the floor, shuffling her feet together. It made her throat tighten and her hands reach for each other, fingers pressing and twisting together.

Because if she were forced to admit it, Regina had crawled underneath everything and sat like a stone in her chest, hard and unrelenting. So as she gazed back at the Mayor, Emma found herself momentarily speechless. Truth had always been a moveable object in her life, malleable and flexible, utilized for whatever purpose she so desired.

But Regina’s truth was like that stone in her chest, a weighted granite with sharp edges.

The Mayor smiled triumphantly, flashing her teeth and unfolding her arms, turning for the door.

“Well, dear,” Regina said in a silken tone, “now that’s over with, I’ll expect you at the council meeting tomorrow afternoon.”

“No — wait — ” Reaching out, Emma’s hand closed over Regina’s upper arm, staying the woman’s progress and twisting her round a little. As the Mayor’s eyes widened in alarm and offense, Emma regained a little of her bravado and felt courage stir in her stomach.

She didn’t let go even when Regina’s eyes travelled slowly from Emma’s face to the hand on her arm, looking at it with a faint grimace of disgust.

“Miss Swan.” The Mayor’s voice was lower now, tinged with a grated threat. “Let go of my arm.”

But Emma didn’t. If anything, her fingers closed even tighter.

“Emma? Emma, is that you?”

A voice from the top of the stairs made Emma look upwards, seeing Henry leaning over the railing with a bright, gleeful smile pasted across his features.

“Go to bed, Henry,” Regina said, eyes never leaving Emma’s face.

“Are you here to see me?” Henry ignored his mother, moving down a couple of steps with a delighted, daring tread.

Glancing at Regina, Emma felt her stomach pitch and fall at the look of abject disappointment that pulled at the other woman’s face, tightening it and tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“No, Henry,” she replied in a steady tone. “I’m here to see your mom.”

“But you’re my — ”

“Henry! Bed!” Now Regina’s tone brooked no disobedience, rising to a strained pitch and halting any further progress the boy might have made down the stairs.

Looking up at him, Emma nodded imperceptibly, her eyes meeting his for a second of understanding. His gaze alighted on the Mayor, narrowing as an expression of suspicion and resentment passed over his face. Then, reluctantly, he turned and trudged back towards his bedroom.

“Miss Swan. Your hand. Remove it please.” Regina’s voice was taut, utterances staccato and brittle. As Emma’s grip loosened, she snatched her arm back and wrapped it around herself, turning away so that her face was hidden, so that the pain in her eyes couldn’t be seen by anyone, never mind Emma Swan of all people.

No; Emma was the very last person Regina wanted to see her vulnerability. To see the love she had for Henry and the casual, hurtful way in which he refused it.

“I suggest you leave,” she said sharply, jerking her head towards the door.

Emma was quiet for a moment, contemplation drawing lines over her brow as she saw how Regina’s shoulders hunched slightly. The stone in her chest didn’t seem as heavy as before; its sharp edges softening a little, just as she did.

“Regina,” she began, taking a step towards the other woman. “I’m not trying to take Henry away from you.”

The Mayor lifted her head a little, a mirthless laugh escaping her lips. “Aren’t you?” she asked. She hated the way her voice wavered; how easy it was for this woman to draw it out of her and crumble the bricks of the wall she’d built so carefully.

“No,” Emma said firmly. Her arm stretched out and her fingers were almost on Regina’s shoulder before she drew back, shocked by her own need to touch the other woman, no longer tempered and constrained. Her mouth fell open, grateful that Regina couldn’t see, thankful that the cracks weren’t showing to the one person who could split them open into gaping fissures.

Pulling her arm back against herself, Emma straightened. “I just want to know him,” she said softly. “That’s all.”

Regina laughed again, lifting a couple of fingers to swipe at her eyes. Nodding, she attempted to compose herself. It simply wouldn’t do to let Emma see her cry. Even if the tears prickling at the backs of her eyes were as unforgiving as she was.

By the time she turned to face Emma, she was able to look the other woman in the eye with some semblance of self. Of the persona she had created for herself in blackness and dark magic. Sometimes she wondered where all the light had gone, and then she looked at Henry, at his childish delight and the wisdom that he bore so freely on his shoulders.

And she saw it all shining in his face. She saw it in Emma’s face, too. So brightly that it was damn near enough to break open her heart and shatter its hardened surface into a thousand fragmented pieces.

“Regina,” Emma urged, shaking her head. “I just want to know him.”

The Mayor inclined her head, just once, before lifting it and meeting Emma’s gaze with a deep sadness that fled over her face.

“You already do,” she said.

Part 2

It was a few days before Regina saw Emma again. A few days of regrets and resentment that her vulnerabilities had bubbled to the surface and displayed themselves in front of the Deputy. In those days, Regina had drunk more than she should, been more snappish with Henry than was necessary, neglected a few more of her duties than she was obliged to.

None of it really mattered, though. She had repeatedly told herself that as she poured another glass of wine. In the end, the only person truly cursed was herself. And the irony of that wasn’t lost on her; the tragic perfection of dark magic was that nobody really escaped it. Perhaps Maleficent had been right, after all.

Her suspicions didn’t do much to improve Regina’s mood. And as she sipped at the rich Merlot in her glass, promising herself that it would be the last one for the night, the Mayor felt a cold dread seeping through her bones, chilling them with a prescient realization.

Rounding the corner of her desk, she pushed it aside. She would cling to the last vestiges of her happy ending if it killed her.

Losing it forever — losing Henry — surely would.

The knock at her office door was light, almost tentative. Regina scowled at it. It was long after the hours she had deigned as “open house". Not that any of the residents of Storybrooke took the opportunity to use them. They tended to steer well clear of her if they could and if she were honest with herself, Regina actually liked it that way. She preferred to hand out edicts and have them followed without question. After 28 years, Storybrooke had learned complicit obedience.

Except for the person who was knocking on her door right now. After a moment’s silence, they rapped again, this time harder and more insistently.

“Office hours are over,” Regina barked, frowning at the faint slur in her tone and the weary timbre of it. She was becoming tired of this. Whatever ‘this’ was.

The door opened and Emma appeared around it, smiling almost apologetically. As she entered the room and the door clicked shut behind her, Regina stiffened, preparing herself for the inevitable fray that would ensue. It always did with Emma Swan. Probably always would. They seemed forever destined to clash, no matter how genuine the smile on Emma’s face or the way she hovered at the other side of the room.

“Yeah,” Emma shrugged, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I figured.”

“And yet you insinuate yourself upon me yet again,” Regina mused, lifting the glass to her lips and sipping at the comforting, velvety liquid, savoring it over her tongue and half wondering if this was her second or third glass.

Emma shrugged and let out a long sigh, lips moving over unspoken words as she struggled to maintain her demeanor. It had taken her three days and several arguments with Graham in order to calm down enough for another visit with Regina. And yet, from the moment she’d walked into Regina’s office, she’d felt smothered by tension. By the frisson that leapt between them like lightning, touching and sparking them both with electric fingers.

“Look,” she began slowly, taking a few paces forwards, shoulders hitching with a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “You and I have to work together…exist together in Storybrooke. Can’t we do it peaceably? For Henry’s sake?” A frown burrowed into her forehead as she watched Regina sip at her wine, the Mayor’s hand trembling enough to send a ripple across the surface of red inside the glass.

“Can’t you leave for the same reason?” Regina shot back, eyes narrowing. She jerked her hand towards Emma and was horrified to see droplets of red wine splash up against the side of the glass. She glared down at it, placing it onto the desk with an exaggerated care before folding her arms around her body; an act of defense, of succor.

“You meddle, Miss Swan,” Regina said curtly, her gaze following the lines of Emma’s body with a heavy gaze. “Ever since you came here, people have been hurt. You’ve turned Henry’s life upside down and spread your particular brand of poison deeply into his mind.”

“Poison?” Emma echoed, jaw hardening. Pulling her hands from her pockets, she advanced upon Regina, glowering as all attempts at calm disappeared completely.

“The only person poisoning this town is you, Madame Mayor,” she growled. “And you’ve done it for so long that it’s about time someone stood up to you. You’ve got all the people here so afraid that they don’t remember anything else other than the grip you have on them.”

“It’s called leadership, dear,” Regina said smoothly, but her tone was brittle, crisp like the dying leaves of Fall.

“It’s called bullying,” Emma countered, drawing even closer. By the time she stepped into Regina’s personal space, she could see the doubt flickering in the other woman’s eyes, the depth of them as black and empty as she suspected the Mayor’s heart was.

“And what is it you’re doing now, hm?”

Emma blinked, momentarily taken aback. She’d never thought of her methods as bullying. She’d come to Storybrooke to make sure Henry got home safely. She’d stayed because, against all the rules she’d made for herself, the boy had touched her. For the first time in ten years, another human being had broken down the wall she built around herself. The surge of protective love she felt towards him was unfamiliar — as unfamiliar as the animosity she felt towards the woman in front of her now.

“I know that you think you’re helping Henry with his stories and his belief in this…this fairytale world he’s created around himself,” Regina continued with a dismissive wave of her hand. “But all you’re doing, Miss Swan, is perpetuating a delusion that will only hurt the boy even more once he realizes none of it is true.”

“Isn’t it?” Emma cocked her head onto one side, eyeing Regina with a clear, challenging gaze.

Regina let out a puff of air that was intended to be a laugh, something derisory that would reduce Emma and Henry’s theories to insignificance. But her heart fluttered in her chest, resounding an old ache that had been put there years before — before Storybrooke, before Henry, before Emma. An ache that had cracked her open and allowed all the pain and bitterness to flood out in an uncontrollable torrent of hatred.

She felt it again now as she looked into Emma’s eyes. And whether it was too much wine, too little love or the proximity of the woman who threatened to change everything, she wasn’t sure. But in the same moment that her eyes glittered disdain, her lips trembled.

Being the Evil Queen of Henry’s fantasies was one thing. Being the evil ruler of Emma’s perceptions of Storybrooke was something else. Something that Regina found sat uncomfortably heavy on her shoulders, bowing them into a persona that even she balked at. Because evil, in whatever form, could never be loved. Not the way she wanted to be, needed to be. Not the way she had craved for so long that it seemed centuries of solitude had separated her from the emotion itself.

But never from the incessant the need for it.

“How dare you.” She finally found her voice but it was grated, hoarsened by the purity of Emma’s gaze and the fervency of it, too. “Get out. Get out of my office and get out of my town. And get out of my son’s life.”

Emma’s head jerked back on her neck but still she didn’t move. She stood tall, emboldened by the weakness she saw speeding over Regina’s features, by the cracks she saw beginning to show. Her profession as a bounty hunter had always encouraged her to exploit those weaknesses, to split them open and take hold of what lay underneath.

But the more she began to see what lay beneath Regina’s composed exterior, the more Emma became afraid of it. Not because she was intimidated by the woman herself, but because the encroaching darkness that seeped through Regina’s pores seemed to have inexorable power — the power to consume her entirely, should she let it.

“Your son,” she finally said in a low tone, “is my son too. I think I deserve the right to — ”

“Deserve?” Regina’s voice rose and she dared laugh in Emma’s face. “Right? Oh, my dear, you absconded those rights once you gave him away. Don’t think your presence here threatens me in the slightest. You’re nothing more than a miscreant, passing through. That’s what you do, isn’t it?”

Quirking an eyebrow, Regina was suddenly aware of Emma’s closeness, of the other woman’s heated breath on her cheek, of the rustle of leather on cotton as the blonde stood her ground, quivering slightly with a growing ire.

“You don’t scare me, if that’s your intention,” Regina said in a hissing whisper.

“Right,” Emma nodded and shrugged in that nonchalant way that had Regina bristling with barely disguised anger. “That’s why you’re drinking alone in your office, isn’t it?”

She gestured carelessly at the glass of wine on the desk. “Anything that helps numb the pain. Anything that helps make you feel stronger.”

A hand gripped Emma’s arm, fingers clawlike around her bicep. The space between them seemed to disappear and Regina’s body bumped up against Emma’s, silken shirt scraping over cotton vest. It shouldn’t have felt good, sending a thrill through both women’s bodies. It shouldn’t have been tinged with a hitherto unacknowledged sexual tension. But for both, all the hostility seemed to suddenly make sense. The need to hurt one another, to score points in an unending game of wits and wills. It all curled around them in a wide–eyed comprehension that increased Regina’s grip on Emma’s arm and elicited a responding gasp from the blonde.

“Don’t assume you know me,” Regina whispered, a harsh, almost plaintive sound.

Emma looked into those eyes, almost reveled in how dark they were, how endless and unerringly black they seemed. She’d always fled towards the light in her life, however small and insignificant the flame. Her path might have been winding and lengthy, but she always ran towards the brightness on it, clinging to it wherever it might be found. It was one of the reasons she was still in Storybrooke, after all.

But this? Regina? This was a cloying onset of pitch that fled into the spaces in between the light; that filled up all the loss Emma had ever felt and throbbed like passion down her body. And the more she stood against it; the more she tried to fight it, the more heady it felt when it was close, just as Regina was close to her now.

Without even thinking, Emma’s hand curled around the Mayor’s neck, fingernails scraping over creamy skin and disappearing into hair that fell over her hand like a silken shroud.

When their lips met, it was hasty, urgent. There was a desperation to the way Regina’s mouth responded to Emma’s; an unrestrained moment of clarity, of lack of control, of complete submission to one another at the same time they both knew they should resist it.

Regina tasted like wine, like a sweet elixir that was contained in the redness of her lips and the softness of her tongue that rose and clashed against Emma’s in a breathless, timeless moment. It was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. But as Emma clutched at the Mayor and felt the other woman move against her, nothing else seemed more right. And even as they grasped one another in an attempt to feel this, to feel anything, surrender seemed to be the one emotion neither could quite rationalize away. It took hold of them with disconsolate fingers, clutching with melancholy and urgent need.

Tearing herself away from Regina, Emma stumbled back a couple of paces, fingers moving to press against her open mouth, eyes wide in horror and desire.

She shook her head, words tumbling through her brain, tongue unable to voice them.

Regina’s gaze was hooded, hair a little tousled, cheeks a little flushed. She reached for her wine glass again, lifting it to her lips and swallowing a bigger mouthful than she had intended. She had expected much from Emma Swan and had anticipated more, but her own heart, thudding in her chest and betraying her quite uncommonly…that she hadn’t considered. Because a dead heart couldn’t be brought back to life, could it? Not by a curse and certainly not by this unruly child standing in front of her.

Anger tempered desire. Resentment outweighed and overwhelmed anything else burgeoning in Regina’s chest and she turned on Emma with a snarling curl of her lip. Whatever it was she felt, or might feel, it needed to be annihilated, just like everything else that stood in her way.

Love was weakness. Desire, dangerous. And it was all Emma Swan’s fault.

“I…Regina…” Emma’s voice was weak, fractured.

“Don’t.”

“But I didn’t mean to — ”

“Don’t.” Another sip of wine, another command, another moment reduced to ashes between them. Regina turned away, waving her hand in the air by means of dismissal.

By the time her office door shut behind Emma’s retreat, Regina leaned forwards, resting her hand, palm outstretched, on the desk below. Lips parted, she let out an uneven sigh, breathing labored.

It was only when she placed the glass back onto the desk that she realized she was trembling.

Part 3

“Goddammit!”

Emma’s outburst was punctuated by the slamming door behind her as she burst into Mary Margaret’s apartment and stalked the floor with a heavy–booted tread. With each clumping step, her face contorted into a frown that set deep lines across her face, eyes fixed firmly onto the floor below.

Mary Margaret, who had been settling down with a soothing cup of tea and a romance novel that she’d successfully hidden from Emma thus far, was momentarily frozen in shock where she was curled on the couch. Her wide eyes followed Emma’s hasty steps across the room and back again, lips parting in an unasked question as the blonde threw up her hands and muttered to herself in a barely audible tone.

Closing her novel, Mary Margaret sighed a little and shoved it behind one of the couch cushions. Glancing at her steaming cup of tea, she pursed her lips. She suspected its calming effects were going to be less than helpful, given the air of anxiety literally pouring off Emma in waves.

“Emma?” she leaned forwards in her seat, cocking her head curiously at the other woman. “What’s happened?”

Pausing in her stride, Emma turned to the teacher and blinked several times, throwing her hands up in the air before they fell back onto her thighs with a resounding slap. Her mouth opened once, then closed tightly as she shook her head wordlessly.

“Okay,” Mary Margaret rose from the couch hurriedly, going over to Emma and placing her hands gently onto the other woman’s shoulders. “It’s okay, just…just calm down, take a breath.” She steered Emma over to the couch and urged her to sit.

“Emma,” she said as she sat beside the blonde. “What on earth happened?”

Perhaps it was her direct, unerring gaze; perhaps it was the kindness in her eyes, given so freely and without condition. But from the moment Mary Margaret took Emma’s hands in her own, a wave of comfort washed over Emma and she demurred slightly, her stiff body relaxing imperceptibly.

“Regina,” she said curtly, her mouth tensing around the shape of the Mayor’s name. “Regina happened.”

“Oh.” Mary Margaret’s shoulders stooped a little and a tiny frown played between her eyes. She knew the conflicts that lay between Emma and the Mayor weren’t that clear to her, nor were they fully revealed or distinct. The two women clashed in a way that nobody had ever done with Regina Mills — nobody had ever dared. In a town like Storybrooke, it was easy to be afraid of her.

But Emma — Emma wasn’t afraid of anyone or anything. It filled Mary Margaret’s heart with hope to see courage painted across the other woman’s face in broad, staunch, unrelenting colors. She hadn’t even realized that the town had all but given up on hope until Emma had arrived, bringing with her an air of change and challenge.

If she was honest with herself, Emma’s continued presence only served to expose the weakness that had impounded the town for so very long. With every tick of the town clock that took them forwards into a newer future, it seemed that the past they were leaving behind was a prison that needed escaping.

Taking a tiny breath, Mary Margaret sat up a little, patting at Emma’s hands with fluttering, hesitant touches.

“Did she…did she threaten you?” she asked worriedly. “I know she can be a little forceful at times.” She ducked her head and shook it slightly. She wished that her innate wariness and fear of the Mayor wasn’t so strong, but after all this time under her reign, Mary Margaret had learned that avoidance was the best defense. Sometimes, the only defense.

A faint smile curved Emma’s lips as she observed the other woman’s hunched shoulders, humility overriding concern. Placing one of her hands over Mary Margaret’s, Emma squeezed gently and felt her anger begin to dissipate. If Henry was right — if his stories were true — and Mary Margaret was Snow White and her mother, then the comfort that Emma felt when she was with the other woman seemed natural. It certainly felt natural.

Emma had never known her mother. But she felt as though she knew Mary Margaret. And the simple kindness and compassion the other woman had shown towards her seemed…enough. Unfamiliar and yet desperately wanted.

It helped. A little.

“She followed her usual line of vague threats, yeah,” Emma shrugged. “Leave my son alone…get out of my town…” She huffed a breath of mirthless laughter and rolled her eyes.

“It’s kind of getting old,” she added.

“Regina guards what she loves pretty…pretty fiercely,” Mary Margaret said in a small voice. “She always has.”

“I get that,” Emma intoned. “I do, but I’m not trying to take anything away from her. Even if she does love Henry and this town. Which you gotta admit, is questionable at best.”

Now Mary Margaret laughed, a light, warm sound that brought a smile to Emma’s face.

“I’ve found it’s better not to question anything Regina chooses to do or say,” the teacher admitted almost shamefully. Her gaze dropped to her lap, to where Emma’s hands clutched her own, a grasp of inherent strength that Mary Margaret wished she felt as fervently as the other woman.

“You and everyone else in Storybrooke.”

Emma’s unwitting retort drew a pair of wide, glistening eyes to her own and she shrugged a little in apology.

“I went to make peace with her, you know,” she continued, frowning at the way Regina had viewed her with such open hostility. With open desire, too.

Confusion etched twin lines between her brow and Emma pursed her lips at the memory, at how Regina’s body had pushed against her own and how their kiss had obliterated everything but the sensation itself, the heat, the passion, the unspoken want that had encircled both of them in a desperate embrace.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go well,” Mary Margaret said sardonically.

“I…I don’t know,” Emma said and laughed out loud, throwing back her head in bewilderment. A flush covered her cheeks and she pulled her hands from Mary Margaret’s, folding her arms over her chest, leaning back on the sofa.

“She kissed me.”

The expression that crossed Mary Margaret’s face was a mixture of perturbed embarrassment, astonishment and not a little anxiety. Her mouth fell open and she blinked several times at Emma before her lips closed and she swallowed, catching her breath.

“I mean, I kissed her too. I think. I don’t know…it just…it just happened.” Emma’s words came out in a rush and she could hardly contain the babble of explanation that didn’t really make sense in her head and definitely not once she attempted to vocalize it.

Gathering herself, Mary Margaret couldn’t resist the smile that curved her lips. If she were to think about it — and she had done, several times — then the only person who was Regina’s equal was Emma. The only person who had the fortitude to stand firm under the Mayor’s rule and resist it. And perhaps it was that purity of spirit that Regina found difficult to stay away from; the truth Emma sought to uncover that represented Regina’s greatest threat.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” Emma groaned wearily, wiping a hand over her face.

“Well, they do say there’s a thin line between love and hate,” Mary Margaret offered hopefully.

Emma’s face screwed up into an expression of distaste. “Who says that?” she demanded. “Nobody says that. It’s one of those clichés that people throw at you when they’ve got nothing else to say.”

Mary Margaret flushed a little and glanced down at her lap. “It’s a little difficult to know what to say when you tell me you and Regina — ”

“God, don’t,” Emma gulped and held up a hand to stop Mary Margaret saying anything else. As the other woman fell silent, Emma wished it was as easy to dispel the memory: the scent of Regina, the taste of her mouth, the surge of angry desire that had risen unexpectedly and thickened her throat. The feeling that still remained, despite her best efforts to dismiss it as an aberration.

“What will you do?” Mary Margaret inched closer to Emma on the couch, peering up into the other woman’s face. “You’re not…you’re not going to run away are you? Because that would…”

She clamped her lips together and shook her head. She knew that Emma had a habit of making a hasty exit when situations became too real — or when feelings did. And all of Henry’s fairytale imaginings, however fantastical, had forged a bond between her and Emma. Mary Margaret knew that, were it to be broken, she would grieve for it.

Leaning forwards, Emma took Mary Margaret’s hands in her own once more and let out a pained sigh. Leaving would be easy. Running away was, after all, a typical response to emotional entanglements. It always had been. She’d run away from her past so that it would never catch up with her.

And yet, it had. In the shape of a small boy who wanted to be loved. As she did.

“No,” she said firmly, a flood of pleasure filling her chest as Mary Margaret’s face broke into a relieved smile. “No, I’m not running away. Not this time.”

Regina was irritable. The combination of too much red wine the night before and the lingering taste of Emma on her lips had put a scowl on her face as she wandered down Main Street, sunglasses firmly fixed on her head. Never usually one to hide behind anything but her carefully constructed façade, today Regina felt naked, as though anyone who saw her eyes would see the troubled light in them. And she was troubled; had been ever since Emma Swan left her office, taking with her strips of Regina’s dignity, shredding them into pieces and laying them to waste.

Her heels clicking on the sidewalk, Regina nodded curtly at the few passers–by who bid her good morning in the deferential manner that she’d come to expect from Storybrooke. But she didn’t reply; she couldn’t trust herself this morning. Ever since she had risen reluctantly from her bed, Regina had felt worry grasp at her with pinching fingers. Breakfast with Henry had been a short–lived, awkward affair. Every time she looked at him, he gazed back at her with Emma’s eyes.

She had gulped down her coffee, packed him off to school and made her way into town with an unsettled gait. Walking down Main Street, everything looked different. Even hidden under the shade of her sunglasses, Regina’s eyes saw changes everywhere. Subtle, like the shimmering edges of magic, the town seemed vibrant under her gaze. A vague humming like the sound of an oncoming storm buzzed in her ears and she squinted up at the sky, seeing only the refracted hues of sunshine breaking through the blue.

Regina felt it, though, deep in her gut. The storm that Storybrooke had held at bay for so many years — that she had kept away with charms and words of blackest spellcasting — was gathering. She was sure of that.

The knowledge of it did little to improve her mood.

“Good morning, Madame Mayor.”

A voice halted her mid–stride and Regina gasped a little, realizing that a figure had loomed up in front of her.

Reaching up to touch her sunglasses, she drew breath impatiently, conversation the last thing she wanted. But the figure in front of her didn’t move, smiled indulgently, kindly, and Regina found that she was quite trapped in the appearance of benevolence that she had tried so hard to create and sustain.

“Good morning, David,” she said curtly.

David Nolan offered her a broad smile that lit up his handsome face and shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants, resting back on his heels as he surveyed the Mayor’s shielded gaze.

“Beautiful day,” he commented.

Regina drew breath, squaring her shoulders and watching, nonplussed, as David lifted his face to the sky and closed his eyes for a brief moment. As his gaze returned to her, she smiled tightly.

“Yes, it is.”

David grinned and reached out, his hand almost touching her elbow before he sensed her reticence, the way she froze, how the corners of her mouth were taut and unforgiving. His hand stayed in the air for a second before he withdrew it, closing his fingers into a fist that he shoved back into his pants once more.

“Madame Mayor,” he began, then let out a little laugh and shrugged. “Regina,” he corrected himself, his voice lowering to a more intimate, friendly tone.

“Listen, I just wanted to thank you,” he said. “For being a good friend to Kathryn.” Letting out a sigh, he shrugged again and pursed his lips momentarily. “She’s found it hard…all the time I was…I was away. Asleep,” he added, rolling his eyes.

“She was alone for so long, I think she forgot what it was like to have people around her who genuinely care. And you do. She speaks very highly of you — of the help you’ve given to her.”

Regina shifted under his gaze, as uncomfortable with the notion of friendship as she was being responsible for offering it to someone else. For receiving it, too, as she had done from Kathryn. She swallowed, thankful that her sunglasses were hiding the prickling sensation behind her eyes. She hadn’t intended to befriend Kathryn, only to insert her as an obstacle between Mary Margaret and David. That the woman had displayed such pathetic gratitude should have disgusted her, that night at the party.

But nobody had offered her friendship without condition before. Regina had always taken what she wanted, made no apologies or felt any regrets about ripping her needs from the life of another; ripping out their hearts to ensure their devotion. Obedience through fear had been the only false affection she’d ever really know for so long that to have it offered without condition was more than a little alarming.

And now…now the players in the game were making their own rules. Rules she hadn’t ratified and wasn’t sure she understood. So as she stared at David’s open, smiling features, Regina couldn’t despise him for it, nor his wife. Not even if she quite desperately wanted to.

Discomfort made her shift again, glancing down at the ground.

“I’m the Mayor,” she said abruptly, awkwardly. “It’s my job to care for the citizens of Storybrooke.”

David let out a little chuckle and his smile broadened. “You gave Kathryn what she needed when she needed it the most,” he said gently. “She won’t forget that and neither will I.”

She nodded quickly, nostrils flaring in a sudden rush of emotion that fled unrestrained through her chest, followed by a backwash of disgust. But this time, unlike all those times before, it wasn’t directed at the people she sought to control.

No; it was all she felt for herself. All she had become and all she might be, too.

“Please,” she said, hearing her voice strain over the weight of his affection, his innocence, the genuine sincerity that characterized him; that always had. “Think nothing of it.”

“Okay,” David shrugged again, but his eyes roamed her features and his gaze narrowed slightly as he looked at her with something akin to curiosity. “But I know…we both know your job can’t be easy. Everything that’s happened lately,” he took a short breath and shook his head slowly, lifting a hand to rub at his chin.

“I just wanted you to know that Kathryn and I are on your side, Regina,” he added. “We’re friends now.”

Tugging his hand from his pocket, he glanced down at his watch and frowned. “I should…” he gestured aimlessly down the street beyond and gave her a helpless little grin. “Kathryn’s waiting for me.”

As he moved past her, this time he reached out and squeezed her elbow gently, a tenderness in his touch that made Regina flinch slightly, taking a couple of steps backwards and appeasing him with a forced smile of acknowledgement.

She could still feel the warmth of his fingers on her arm long after he’d sauntered away.

And disgust roiled again in her stomach. But not for him. Never for him.

Part 4

It wasn’t her intention to visit the Sheriff’s Office, but Regina found herself distracted and unsettled, disturbed by David’s kind words and her unsolicited, involuntary reaction to them. By the time she had stalked past Granny’s Diner and reached the pathway that led to Storybrooke’s rarely–used jail, she was in the mood for a fight.

The need for antagonism burned at the base of her throat, dry and rasping with the aftermath of last night’s wine and Emma’s kiss. Regina wasn’t sure what she hated more: David’s gesture of friendship and support or the whispering voice at the back of her mind that accepted it; craved it, even.

It rankled in her gut and she flung open the door to Graham’s offices with a firm hand, fingers closing around the handle so hard that her knuckles turned white.

Once inside, she turned the corner into the large room and cast a glance across it, the desks piled high with paperwork that was meaningless and pointlessly time–consuming; the walls covered with local missives and posters that spoke of a tight–knit community where the law was absolute.

A smirk lifted the corner of her mouth and she couldn’t help feeling some of her power regained, reclaimed. Her law was the only absolute; her direction the only rules Storybrooke need follow. Graham’s position in the town was as a puppet of her own making. He was her pet, her weapon with which to underline the severity of a punishment that she had created.

If Storybrooke was her own personal hell, then the laws within it were the demons she had summoned. Control, after all, was the mainstay of the curse that had enveloped not only the town, the citizens in it, but her own self, too.

And if she was going to suffer, then she was damn sure that everyone else would.

“Can I help you, Madame Mayor?”

Graham appeared from one of the side rooms where suspects were interviewed. It was testament to his spotless work record that the room was rarely, if ever, required for use. He ran his fingers through his tousled hair and offered Regina a quizzical, hopeful grin.

Such a good pet, Regina thought mockingly. Hers to do with whatever she pleased. And she had done so, in the shadows of her bedroom, in the twilight assignations after Henry had gone to sleep and her gasps and moans of pleasure were muted by Graham’s large hand across her mouth.

She had become quite fond of him, truth be told. But she was even more fond of his willingness to please, his eagerness to satisfy her no matter what her request. Regina had seen the fleeting doubt on his face and in his puppy–dog eyes, even heard a murmur of protest as she made demands on him that his gentle nature balked at. But refusal was unacceptable in her bed and, as time went on, he had become accustomed to her tastes and desires.

Sometimes she wondered if the demands she made on him were not wholly fitting for a woman in her position. If perhaps she should demur and be the sort of woman the town expected her to be: sophisticated, poised, regal.

But when evening fell and darkness claimed the town, it claimed Regina, too. And her lust to simply feel overwhelmed her. For it was only when she felt the dull ache in her shoulders as her hands were tied behind her back, or the grasp of his clumsy fingers on her throat as he thrust into her, that she felt anything for him at all. It was an odd affection. But it was better than nothing.

As she looked at Graham now, Regina inclined her head graciously. She would never admit to their relationship in daylight and certainly not allow him to show any intimacy towards her. It was important that whatever they had be conducted on her terms, and her terms only. Graham knew that, at least.

“Good morning, Sheriff,” she nodded towards him. “Everything in order?”

He tugged almost nervously at his vest, fingers hooking into his belt for a moment before loping towards her across the office.

“Of course,” he shrugged, casting an eye back towards the interview room. “You know as well as I do that crime in Storybrooke is at an all–time low.”

“I’d say that was rather a good thing, wouldn’t you?” Regina moved further into the room and reached up, sliding her sunglasses from her face and blinking slightly as her eyes became accustomed to the light streaming in through the windows.

Graham nodded and ran a hand through his hair again, looking at the interview room over his shoulder and then back at Regina, a cautious smile on his mouth.

“I’m here to see Miss Swan,” Regina said calmly, folding her sunglasses and tucking them into the breast pocket of her immaculate jacket. She perched on the edge of a nearby desk and smoothed her hands down over her skirt, straightening imagined wrinkles. “Is she here?” she lifted her eyebrows and looked over at Graham.

“She’s uh…” he began, frowning and rubbing at his beard with a large hand. “Emma’s actually — ”

“Right here.” Emma sauntered into the office from the same interview room that Graham had occupied. She came to a stop beside the Sheriff and Regina’s eyes narrowed. He looked nervous, agitated. And Emma had a satisfied smirk on her lips that send a sudden hot spurt of rage into Regina’s chest.

“What do you want, Regina?” Emma sounded bored by the Mayor’s presence, her eyes briefly meeting Regina’s before sliding away around the room.

A single, delicate, dark eyebrow rose on Regina’s face and she folded her arms over her chest. “I have a matter to discuss with you, Miss Swan,” she intoned, her voice as imperious as the expression pulling at her features. “And it’s Madame Mayor, if you please.”

Emma took a few steps forwards, hands on hips, courage squaring her shoulders. The smile she gave Regina was almost wolfish and she let out a small huff of laughter. She had suspected the Mayor might turn up at some point. Emma had been able to process what had happened at least a little with Mary Margaret, but she knew that Regina had no one. Nobody with whom to share anything, even if she’d wanted to. It was with some superiority, then, that Emma shrugged and even had the temerity to glance back at Graham. Let Regina play her games. Emma was more than up to the challenge.

“Alright,” she said equivocally. “Madame Mayor. How can I help you today?”

The pointedly over–polite tone of Emma’s voice hardened Regina’s jaw and she glanced behind the woman towards Graham, who had something like guilt tracing across his face, refusing to meet her gaze.

“Graham, dear,” Regina said smoothly, her voice a hooded snake winding around him. “Why don’t you go and fetch us all some coffee while I have a talk with Deputy Swan here, hm?”

He shuffled his feet on the floor, moving to stand by Emma’s shoulder but going no further. The look he exchanged with the Deputy sent another hot wave of anger flooding into Regina’s chest and she rose to her feet, glaring at him.

“Graham,” she said, her voice becoming brittle and hard. “Coffee.”

Emma nodded at the Sheriff. “It’s okay,” she murmured, lifting a hand to stroke it down his arm. He blinked at her, then shrugged and walked from the room, consciously averting his eyes from Regina’s glowering form.

“Only here a matter of days and already you have him well trained,” Regina commented acerbically. “Just how many of the good townspeople do you intend to turn against me with your lies?”

“I’m not the one telling lies,” Emma countered, moving to stand far closer to Regina than was necessary. But she refused to be intimidated by the Mayor; refused to let Regina’s machinations sweep her up into the control that the woman exercised so freely over almost everyone, it seemed. Fear was a powerful motivator to comply. But Emma didn’t believe in fear, especially not of a woman who was, to all intents and purposes, nothing more than a desperately lonely creature.

She wasn’t accustomed to feeling sympathy for anyone. Years of solitude and running had made certain of that. But even as she felt Regina’s gaze sweep over her, as intrusively intimate as a caress, Emma felt a pang of pity for the woman. And the memory of their kiss swept through her brain once more, as it had done several times since it happened.

Emma couldn’t quite resist the shiver of loathing want that trickled down her spine.

“Let’s not deceive one another then, dear,” Regina purred, a cold smile on her lips. “You may be able to turn my son against me, even seduce poor Sheriff Graham into doing whatever pleases you,” she threw a hand towards the direction of the interview room and her lips turned downwards in distaste.

“But don’t think that what happened between us last night means I will fall at your feet and declare undying devotion. I’m not a sheep, like the rest of the people in Storybrooke.”

“Oh, I know,” Emma interjected before Regina had any further opportunity to speak. Her hands fell down by her sides, clenching into fists as her eyes shone hard and bright. “I know exactly what you are, Madame Mayor.” The title was spat at Regina like a curse and the Mayor almost flinched under the sound of it.

Regina got to her feet, eyes clouded with a growing anger; with a growing desire, too. Hate was like love in a lot of ways: a weakness that she had tried to resist, lest it consume her entirely. And yet it was precisely the latter, giving way to the former, that had overwhelmed her all those years ago. That threatened to overwhelm her now, should she let it. Moving in close to Emma — so close that she could feel the heat of the other woman’s presence near her — Regina met Emma’s gaze head on. The war of attrition that they had begun from the moment they first met.

“You know nothing about me,” Regina whispered, the sound of her voice as soft as a lover’s entreaty. “And I would be very, very careful before leaping to conclusions about what I am and what I can do. You may find yourself at something of a disadvantage, should you be so foolish.”

“Again with the threats,” Emma murmured, blinking bravely under Regina’s gimlet gaze. “One of these days you’re going to have to follow through on those; you know that, right? Because an empty threat is…well…just empty. Kind of like you are.”

Regina smiled again, gaze never wavering. She wanted nothing more than to crush Emma’s mouth under her own; crush the other woman like the insignificant creature that she was. Desire and destruction battled in her chest for a moment and she paused, willing the moment to pass. She was sure it would, if only she could assert her iron will over it and quell the creeping want that sat heavy in her belly.

“I will offer you the opportunity to leave quietly, Miss Swan,” she said pleasantly, although her voice dripped venomous intent as Emma heroically stood her ground. “Why don’t you give it some thought. I’m sure you’ll come to the right decision in the end. For your own safety, of course. When you do, you know where to find me.”

Emma opened her mouth to retort, to fight. It was all she knew how to do, anyway. All she’d ever done. It was as much second nature to her as was running. When it came to fight or flight, she’d adopted both and exploited them to their full. And she always knew which one was appropriate in any given situation. Always knew when to flee from inherent danger to protect herself from harm.

But standing under Regina’s heavy gaze and feeling the proximity of the other woman like black sunlight, casting a searing heat on and inside her, Emma realized that she simply wasn’t sure what to do anymore. For although logic compelled her to run, it was her heart that begged her to stay.

It confused her more than she cared admit.

Closing her mouth, she stepped backwards, shaking her head. It was only then that she spied Graham in the doorway, holding a tray of coffee cups in one hand and a box of donuts in the other. His eyes were wide, almost fearful as he stared at the two women and Emma proffered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

“I’ll get right on that,” she threw at Regina as Graham walked towards them and held out the tray of drinks.

Turning, Regina looked him up and down with cold eyes even though the smile on her lips never faltered. Lifting a hand, she waved it at him and nodded.

“Thank you, dear,” she said to him, pulling her jacket more firmly around her shoulders, “but I rather think I won’t be needing any coffee anymore. Miss Swan is welcome to mine. It might help bring her to her senses a little.”

With a tight smile at the confused Sheriff and a sharp nod of her head to Emma, she pulled out her sunglasses, shoved them onto her face and marched from the office without so much as a second glance backwards.

“Hi Emma! Your usual?” Ruby leaned over Emma’s table and flashed one of her best, brightest smiles at the blonde.

“Uh…” Emma hadn’t realized how deep in thought she’d been until the waitress lifted her eyebrows, tapping her pencil against the pad she held in her hand.

“Need a few more minutes?” Ruby asked, cocking her head onto one side.

Emma smiled kindly at the girl and shook her head. “No, no it’s okay, Ruby. I’ll take my usual. With extra whipped cream,” she added, rolling her eyes.

“Having one of those days, right? I understand,” Ruby grimaced in sympathy. “Kid giving you the runaround again?”

Emma thought of Henry, of his innocence and experience that shone so wisely in young eyes. Her heart clenched a little and she knew in the moment that, despite Regina’s dark threats, she could never really leave Storybrooke now. Every day she stayed a little longer, she loved a little more. Felt a little more found. A little more rooted.

It should have given her hope; a newfound joy that made her heart beat faster. But as she gazed up at Ruby, at the wide eyes and scarlet lips that smiled back at her, Emma felt a deep sadness in her chest. Because to love Henry was to indulge in the desire to save him. And that desire was charged with the heat of a battle that Emma couldn’t avoid; a war of wills with Regina that both women had acknowledged and felt tingling and leaping like fire in their hearts.

Emma let out a tiny sigh. The woman was already under her skin, wreaking havoc with her thoughts and loyalties. The longer she stayed in Storybrooke, the more definite a feeling that would become until she could resist it no longer. A simple kiss had proven that to be true.

“Ruby,” she said slowly, as the waitress’ eyebrows rose in enquiry, “have you ever done something you regret even if you thought it was right at the time?”

Ruby stood up now, throwing back her head and letting out a musical laugh that was filled with delight, regret tracing heavy notes through her tone.

“All the time,” she said, with a knowing wink towards Emma. “But it never stopped me and it probably won’t in the future, either.” She scribbled something onto the pad in her hands and took a few steps away before turning on her heel and eyeing Emma with a rather more wistful gaze.

“In Storybrooke, nothing changed,” she said quietly, fiddling with the pencil in her hands and staring down at it for a moment. Then her eyes flickered up towards Emma and she smiled almost apologetically. “Not until you came,” she added.

The girl shrugged and kicked one of her sneakered feet against the other. “Whatever you’re doing,” she told Emma, “there’s something different about the town these days. So I figure you just have to keep doing what you feel is right and deal with the consequences later, okay?”

There was a shadow that passed over Ruby’s face for a fleeting second. And in it, Emma saw something under the surface, something pained and hurtful. She half–squinted up at the girl, wondering if there was more to Storybrooke’s history than she suspected. Something as dark as the expression in Ruby’s eyes, and as portentous.

Shaking her head, Ruby rolled her eyes and laughed again, a wide grin spreading across her lips.

“But I’m just a waitress,” she said with a shrug of self–reprove. “What do I know?”

Avoiding Emma’s curious gaze, Ruby held up the pad and gestured behind her towards the counter. “I’ll get you your drink,” she said.

But Emma was already halfway out of her seat, grabbing her jacket and tugging it on over one arm. “No,” she told the girl. “It’s okay. I’ll…I’ll catch you later, okay? There’s something I have to do.”

Part 5

The pounding on Regina’s front door was incessant. Even when she flung it open, the figure on her porch had their fist lifted high in the air, ready to unleash another series of forceful demands for entrance.

In spite of Emma’s aggressive stance and the determined, hard expression on her face, Regina couldn’t help the faint swell in her chest. Anticipation; expectation; the recognition of what was painted across Emma’s features in blatant shades of want. It walked a tingle up and down her spine and she gripped the edge of the door firmly, the feeling wavering down her legs and trembling at them quite dangerously.

Swallowing, the Mayor lifted her chin and eyed the other woman with a disdain she didn’t quite feel.

“Miss Swan, I assume you’ve come to — ”

“Shut up.” Emma shoved past Regina and kicked the door shut behind her, wresting it from the Mayor’s grasp and barely noticing how it rattled in the doorframe as it crashed to a close.

“How dare you,” Regina began, all bluster and offense.

But Emma was in no mood for conversation. And even as she heard Regina’s voice, she ignored it and reached for the other woman, sliding her hands around the Mayor’s neck and yanking her close. Their bodies bumped awkwardly against one another and when their lips met, it was with a firm and unrelenting touch, bringing a surprised grunt from Regina’s throat.

Releasing the Mayor, almost shoving her away, Emma let out an anguished breath and shook her head. Her heart was clattering in her chest and she could still feel Regina’s lips on her own: their heat, their softness, the exquisite taste of the other woman that was unlike anything she’d ever experienced.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Regina rounded on Emma, head jutting forward on her neck, chin defiant and accusatory.

“What you want me to,” Emma darted back, voice thickened with undisguised want. She noticed how Regina’s eyes widened slightly, how her pupils dilated and a flush crept along the base of her throat.

“What I want?” The Mayor let out a derisory laugh that fell far short of its mark and instead she took a step back, wrapped her arms around her torso. “You overstep yourself, Miss Swan.”

“No!” Emma pointed a finger at the other woman, eyes narrowed, face contorted in anger and lust. “No,” she said again. “You and I can keep playing this game, Regina, or we can just skip to the end and have this over and done with.”

“I don’t play games, Miss Swan,” Regina spat, bristling and snarling, all effort at composure gone. “I win them.”

The Mayor stood taller now, eyes gleaming with imperious triumph. “Whatever you want, you aren’t going to find it here.”

“Are you sure?” Emma moved forwards again. Because even in the shining pitch of Regina’s gaze, she could see tears. And she couldn’t help wondering about all the things Regina had cried for; all the things that she would never let herself weep over. All the things she never had and wanted so much, almost to distraction.

“Oh, I’m certain,” Regina said through gritted teeth. “Just as I’m certain that you are going to walk back through that door,” she jerked a thumb towards the front of her house, “leave and never come back.”

“I’m not going to do that.” Emma approached Regina with a slow step, a steady tread of intent and saw how the other woman took a fortifying breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Then the consequences will be on your own head,” Regina said, but her voice shook a little and she paled ever so slightly as Emma’s progress towards her continued. “I’m warning you,” she added. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“Neither do you,” Emma growled, and reached for the Mayor once more.

But Regina anticipated her embrace, such as it was. A hand swept through the air towards Emma’s face, palm flat out to deliver a stinging blow. The blonde’s arm shot upwards, blocking it easily. If she’d been the type of person to take pleasure in someone else’s pain, Emma might have laughed at the expression of disconsolate surprise that covered Regina’s features. But there was no humor in the eyes that looked into the Mayor’s; no joy derived from the widening horror that darkened Regina’s gaze. And in a moment — less, perhaps — Emma’s mouth was on Regina’s once more.

This time, the Mayor barely resisted at all. This time, two arms encircled Emma’s waist, fingers digging lines up and underneath her jacket, scrabbling at the flimsy shirt she wore. Emma could feel Regina’s mouth move across her jawline, teeth scraping the skin until lips suckled at her neck, breath coming hot and heavy as her tongue slid over Emma’s racing pulse point. It whirled around in a circle and Emma felt dizzy, caught in a moment of fight or flight. As her head lolled back on her neck, she heard a low, menacing chuckle against her throat and her eyes snapped open.

Her fingers curled around Regina’s upper arms and she forcibly pushed the woman away from her, watching as the Mayor staggered backwards, mouth hanging open, red and kiss–bruised. Her lipstick was smeared like blood across her cheek, staining the pale skin there. And yet, she was smiling hungrily, eyes darker than Emma had ever seen them.

It shouldn’t have been desire that licked a flame in the pit of Emma’s stomach. It shouldn’t have been a wanton longing that flared in her chest and fluttered at her heart. Emma knew this. She’d always known the heat of want and how it paid no heed to rationality. And want like this…it was hedonistic, wild, unfettered and wholly dangerous.

Regina Mills was dangerous.

But still Emma moved towards Regina, not away. Want and need outweighed rationality and caution. And logic became a necessary casualty as she reached for the Mayor with grasping, needy fingers. But two hands on her shoulders pushed at her, shoving her backwards towards the foot of the staircase. Emma stumbled, but allowed Regina to advance upon her, their mouths crashing together once more.

They didn’t talk. They didn’t need to. Emma’s foot bumped against the first step as Regina’s mouth moved to her throat. Up one stair, then two, and then she fell backwards, Regina toppling onto her. A long breath was forced from Emma’s lungs as she landed awkwardly, followed by a cry of pain as the edge of the stair cut a line of hurt across her back.

Regina merely laughed, tugging at Emma’s top, sliding it up so that her long, cold fingers could creep across the skin underneath. Her nails sliced lines that Emma was sure were going to leave marks across her torso, her back, over the bumps of her ribs. And at the back of her mind, even though it threw up cautionary recriminations, Emma knew that she didn’t really care. She wanted Regina to leave her imprint. She thought perhaps the other woman already had.

Ignoring the dull pain across her back, Emma pushed at Regina, hands sliding over the sheen of silk the other woman wore and tugging at the waistband of the Mayor’s skirt. She crooked her knee, hearing Regina hiss as it sank into a firm thigh. Emma smiled; it would probably bruise. Good.

“That hurt,” Regina rolled off Emma a little, splayed out on the stairs, her shirt open and lopsided on her shoulders. Her breath came quickly and she pushed at her hair instinctively, even though it was mussed up and about as far from her carefully maintained appearance as was possible.

Emma grinned hungrily. “I bet.”

There was a momentary flicker in Regina’s eyes; a wonderment of realization and dark desire. Her fingers shot out, burying themselves in Emma’s hair and tugging hard, forcing the blonde’s head back on her neck. Gasping with pain through gritted teeth, Emma kicked at the other woman, this time not caring if it hurt. Because everything hurt, all the time. It was what had brought them together, what had reduced them to this animal passion. Their lust for one another wasn’t merely contained in the physical release they both sought, but in a deeper, more ingrained need to assuage the pain. In any way that they could.

Half–crawling up the remaining stairs, Regina lost a shoe along the way; Emma’s jacket was torn from her shoulders and left at the top of the staircase. By the time Regina shoved Emma through the open door of her bedroom, her shirt was almost completely undone, just as she was.

Thrown back onto the bed almost carelessly, Emma struggled up onto her elbows as Regina clambered onto the surface beside her. Tank top rucked up over her torso and jeans hanging open, Emma watched as Regina straddled her and felt the other woman’s heat against her. Her breath was ragged as she looked up into Regina’s face, lips aching for more gut–wrenching kisses.

The shadows she’d seen on the Mayor’s features had returned, but this time they were unrestrained, almost malevolent. The smile on Regina’s mouth gleamed up into her eyes, but there was no tenderness in it and even less in the fingers that snatched at Emma’s hair once more.

Emma knew that she should probably be afraid. Everything she had seen in the faces of the townspeople — their hesitancy to obstruct and defy — should have swept through her chest as Regina bore down on her. But all she felt was a responding desperation; years of loneliness rushed up to meet her in a torrent of emptiness as pain spread from her injured heart through her body, scattering into pin pricks of hurt on her scalp as Regina tugged at her hair more forcefully.

“Regina, listen, I — ”

But the Mayor shook her head, eyes almost wild as she let go of Emma’s hair and placed her palm over the blonde’s mouth. Leaning down, knees on either side of Emma’s hips, she pressed herself against the other woman and let out a low groan of satisfaction as their bodies made contact.

“No,” she sighed, lips brushing over Emma’s ear, tickling sensation down her neck. “No talking.”

It was the only directive Emma was able to follow; the only command she was willing to obey. Because words were meaningless between them now. All that mattered was touch, skin, flesh, feeling. As Regina’s hand left her mouth, Emma’s arms slid around the other woman and her fingers slipped underneath the hem of Regina’s skirt, already high on her thighs.

Closing her eyes, Emma felt Regina’s fingers slid between them, into the opening of her jeans and further down to where she was already soaking wet, eager and burning hot. The second that two fingers slid inside her, Emma pressed her head back onto the bed, arching her back, almost dislodging Regina.

Shifting above her, Regina thrust down with her hips just as Emma’s hand pressed against her, lacy underwear wet and slick. One hand spread on the bed by Emma’s cheek as Regina steadied herself, but there was no resistance to the desperate yearning as her hips rocked back and forth on Emma’s hand. There was no stopping this now, lines crossed and vows broken. All that remained was the sound of their breathing, the fire rocketing up and down their bodies and the relentless movement inside and against one another.

Emma wanted more. More than this. She wanted to fuck the emptiness away, just like she’d always done in the past. Fleeting and insubstantial sexual encounters had always helped, even just a little. But she knew that were she to open herself up to Regina and give the other woman further purchase on her soul, she would surely lose herself to the tempting emotions that were lying in wait like an arcane beast.

She spread her legs, Regina’s knee sliding over her own so that each woman could push deeper, harder, knuckles bumping against sticky flesh. And when she opened her eyes, Emma looked up at Regina, head hanging low on her neck, lips open and an expression of such bleak desperation on her face that Emma’s heart almost clenched in pity.

Reaching up with her free hand, Emma’s fingers slid around Regina’s neck until the Mayor lifted her head a little, looking down. Her eyes were onyx, a dull sheen obfuscating anything real that Emma might discern. She frowned even as pleasure ripped through her and swallowed audibly, tongue reaching out to trace over her lower lip.

Regina’s eyes met hers. Just for a moment. Just enough to make the connection that Emma hadn’t known she’d craved until right now. Black eyes glistened, blinked away the onset of emotion and Regina’s jaw hardened as she thrust harder into Emma, bringing a guttural sound pouring from the blonde’s mouth.

Their movements were hasty now, hurried and racing towards an inevitable climax. Emma’s fingers curled around Regina’s neck, tugging the other woman towards her for a reluctant kiss that was hot and heavy with unspoken recriminations and regrets. Her back arched upwards into Regina’s caress as the Mayor bore down on her, moaning into her mouth with delicious abandon. Harder, faster, never enough hurt and never enough balm to take it away. Into an abyss of nothingness they fell together, cresting and shaking and crying out against one another.

If blackness could consume her; if Emma would let it in and open herself to it, then for a fleeting second, she did so. When Regina fell against her, mouth on her neck and eyes wet on her cheek, Emma could only hear the pounding thud of her own heart beating, drowning out anything else that might have been whispered against her ear.

No. There was nothing to be said now. And silence, like loneliness, fell across them as they lay entwined on the bed, limbs tangled, skin damp, bodies trembling.

Regina breathed in the scent of Emma, that indefinable musk of passion and lust combining like a heady perfume that made her head swim. Closing her eyes against the tears that threatened them, she willed everything she was — everything she had been — not to rush to the surface. Tried to hide it. To conceal it all.

Because the cracks were beginning to show, even to her own eyes. And what lay beneath was only ever more pain, more solitude. That was the curse she had brought upon herself, repeating and returning to haunt her nights and darken her days.

The curse that she knew now, without a doubt, that Emma could break. And her along with it.

Part 6

Council meetings were a bore. Regina liked to give the impression that they mattered, but she was under no illusions as to their usefulness or necessity in Storybrooke. However, routine demanded that she and other notable figures of the community gathered in the dimly–lit conference room once a month to go over statistics, ventures, changes.

Halfway through the meeting, the Mayor realized that her mind really wasn’t on statistics, ventures and changes at all.

Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Her brain was lingering over the changes in Storybrooke rather more than the other discussion points raised during the course of the meeting. But even her carefully prepared agenda hadn’t been able to account for the shifting feelings in the town and, Regina was forced to admit, within herself, too. Both troubled her, but it was the latter that repulsed her. She’d once described Snow’s reliance and affection for her as sickening, and it was this same emotion she experienced towards herself in the days after her encounter with Emma.

Vulnerability was simply unacceptable. And she’d tried so hard to conceal it from Emma that, in the end, it had risen to the surface anyway and cast a glow across her skin in the aftermath of their distressing, disarming sexual liaison. By the time Henry had returned from school, sheets were straightened, clothes gathered and changed, body showered and hair carefully coiffed. The boy had meandered through his evening meal before Regina packed him off to bed and wearily poured herself a glass of wine.

She had scrubbed herself almost raw in the shower that night and the morning after, wanting to remove any and all traces of Emma from her flesh. But for hours afterwards and even now, Regina could still taste the other woman on her tongue, could still feel Emma’s fingers inside her, thrusting with abandon and a desperation quite unlike anything Regina had felt before.

Because the truth was that she wasn’t sure she ever had felt before. Not like this. Not in a way that shook her to her very core and made a mockery of all the emotions she had denied herself.

So she had thrown herself into routine and experienced the familiar once more, indulging in it as though by returning to what she had created might engender the faint promise of happiness that she had sought in Storybrooke. Henry had looked at her askance as she became a loving, attentive mother again, taking an increased interest in his studies and hobbies. She had even allowed him his storybook before bed, dismissing his enquiring gaze with a wave of her hand and a warm smile.

But it wasn’t enough. Not quite.

“Madame Mayor?”

Regina blinked as a voice intruded on her thoughts and looked across the conference table to where Sydney Glass was leaning over the surface, eyebrows lifted in enquiry. He smiled hesitantly at her and she shook her head a little, rudely brought out of her reverie.

“The motion to commence with the Storybrooke Spring Fayre?” Sydney asked, repeating the suggestion again in a slightly more wondering tone. He, along with several of the other council members, hadn’t failed to notice how distracted the Mayor seemed. Not that anyone had the temerity to ask her about it, of course, nor would they. Instead, a hush had fallen over their meeting as they simply waited for her to speak.

Regina nodded quickly, averting her gaze and swallowing over her flush of embarrassment.

“Yes,” she said abruptly. “Of course.” Gathering herself slightly, she cast a look around the table and regained some of her charm, smiling at Dr Whale and David Nolan, who returned it with a warmth that typified him.

“Of course the Spring Fayre must go ahead,” she informed the council members, her voice more forceful now. “Storybrooke thrives on a strong community and the Fayre will help to establish that.” She nodded firmly, finally, and Sydney scribbled furiously on the notepad in front of him.

The door at the far side of the room scraped open and Emma rushed in, eyes wide with apology as every council member turned to stare at her.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” she said in a rushed breath, tugging out an empty chair next to Graham and dropping into it. “There was a thing with the…”

She realized that everyone was gazing at her and flushed a little, shrugging and pushing at her hair. “There was a thing,” she explained loftily.

“Miss Swan, you’ve missed most of the meeting.” Regina turned a heavy gaze onto Emma and tried to ignore the anticipatory thrill that rose in her throat; tried to ignore what it might mean or how it followed Emma’s presence like a devoted familiar.

“I…I know,” Emma said apologetically, uncharacteristically deferring to Regina. “I had a — ”

“A thing,” Regina cut in sardonically, hearing a snicker from Sydney Glass and smirking triumphantly. “Yes, you said.”

Emma’s face turned a thunderous shade and she glowered at Regina but said nothing, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms over her chest.

“Mr Glass,” Regina directed her gaze towards Sydney, who smiled obligingly and nodded. “Is there anything else on the agenda for today?”

“Actually,” he replied, “I think that will…I think we’re done for now. Unless there’s anything else on your agenda, Madame Mayor?”

His carefully worded question wasn’t lost on Regina and her gaze narrowed as she looked down the length of the table towards him. He always had been rather mischievous, with an inquisitive mind that served him well as the editor of The Daily Mirror newspaper. But his daring had always fulfilled her purposes, not challenged them.

Yes, she thought to herself. Changes were afoot in Storybrooke. And they weren’t ones that met with her approval.

“I think we’re done here,” she said steadily, meeting his gaze with expressionless eyes. She would deal with him if and when the need arose. His nervous shuffling of notes as the other council members began to rise from their seats indicated that he had understood and he rather fearfully adjourned the meeting.

Getting to her feet, Regina reached for her jacket, sliding it on before she turned and found Emma at her side, fixing her with a curious gaze looming in her eyes.

“Miss Swan,” Regina said pleasantly, glancing around the room to see how many of the council members were still lingering around the table. “Perhaps next time we have a meeting you’ll try to be on time?”

“Yeah,” Emma grunted. “Sure, whatever.”

Regina raised an eyebrow, gathering her notes and holding them against her chest like an ineffective shield. It was only when Emma touched her arm that she flinched, gazing down at the other woman’s hand, nostrils flaring slightly.

“Listen,” Emma lowered her voice and glanced backwards at the dissipating group of council members. “I wanted to talk about…you know…” She demurred slightly and took a short breath. “About the other day.”

A veil fell over the Mayor’s face, masking anything that might have fluttered under the surface. Lifting her chin slightly, Regina shook her head and smiled politely with a bemused frown.

“I have no idea what you mean,” she said lightly.

Emma pursed her lips in evident irritation. “Regina,” she said firmly, “come on.”

“Really, dear,” Regina was staunchly refusing to acknowledge Emma’s insistent urgings, and snatched her arm from the other woman’s grasp. “Whatever you think happened between us was of no consequence to me, I can assure you of that.” She blinked under Emma’s gaze and shrugged a little, too casually for it to be convincing.

“Oh,” Emma nodded, a cold smile on her mouth. “Okay. So we’re just going to pretend it didn’t happen.”

“I’m not going to pretend anything,” Regina said, her voice lowering to a warning tone. “We’re all capable of making mistakes.”

Their eyes met and for a second, Emma thought she saw something flash through Regina’s gaze; something indistinct and uncertain. Something that gave her pause, silencing the retort that sprang to her lips. Because, for a moment, she thought she saw a hint of that desire again in Regina’s eyes; a deep–seated want that surged in her own belly and drew her closer to the Mayor.

“Did it feel like a mistake when I was inside you?” Emma whispered, and saw Regina’s lips part, a tiny sigh escaping them. She should have felt triumphant, reveling in the expression that she saw tug at the Mayor’s features, flooding them with pained remembrance. And even as she became emboldened, her hand reaching for Regina’s arm once more, Emma was ashamed. The feeling crept over her shoulders and prickled the back of her neck, buzzing up into her brain. She and Regina might be locked in a hostile battle of wills, but the need to evoke a more passionate reaction from her would always emerge the victor.

They stared at one another for a long moment, Regina’s eyes pools of black, unreadable thoughts that Emma fervently wished she could define. She had always prided herself on an ability to see the truth and uncover a lie. It was what had made her such a successful bounty hunter, after all. But Regina’s face was closed to her.

Frustration, coupled with the longing to know what lurked behind the Mayor’s guarded features increased Emma’s grip on Regina’s arm. Whatever had happened between them, it was clear to both women that it wasn’t over. Not even close.

Drawing in a long breath, Regina blinked and took a step back, slowly pulling her arm from Emma’s grasp. She clutched her papers to her chest once more and shook her head. She wanted to be able to crush Emma; wanted to dispel the odd yearning in her chest and the awakening of her heart. More than anything, she wanted the burgeoning confusion whirling around her head like a dark spell to disappear. She had always been able to make it do so in the past, when emotion threatened to override ambition and weaken power.

But when it came to Emma Swan, Regina felt afraid for the first time.

“Regina,” Emma’s voice reached her ears and she stared balefully at the blonde with open antagonism. She hated the way Emma made her feel. Hated that Emma could make her feel.

“Council chambers are hardly the appropriate place to discuss this,” she said sharply, lifting her chin a little.

“So where, then? When?” Emma hung back a little as Regina pushed past her, catching a scent of the Mayor’s perfume, letting it remind her of how it had lingered in the hollow of Regina’s throat, where Emma’s tongue had wound in lazy circles.

Regina’s eyes widened slightly at the demand and for a moment it seemed as though she would attack. Certainly, her stance was rigid, back straightening, head held high, neck at a regal angle.

Emma let out a helpless puff of air, throwing up her hands and turning slightly in the now empty room. This was crazy. Impossibly insane.

“Henry has a field trip tomorrow,” Regina’s voice spun Emma around. “Come to my house in the morning.”

Part 7

“Graham thinks something’s up,” Emma commented, rolling over onto her side and tugging at what she suspected were the finest cotton sheets money could buy. She shivered a little in the chill that had descended over her naked body, pulling the sheet up and over her skin as she propped her head onto one hand.

Beside her, Regina didn’t stir. She remained where she had flopped back onto the bed, one arm thrown over her face, fingers brushing against the plush pillow beneath her head.

It was a long moment before she lifted her arm, pushing at her hair and finally turning to look up at Emma.

“Graham’s not paid to think,” she said sharply, the corners of her mouth turning down. At Emma’s surprised expression, she rolled her eyes and shifted slightly, frowning at the blonde.

“Really, dear,” the Mayor remarked in an almost mocking tone. “What do you care for the sheriff’s ill–founded suspicions?”

“They’re not, though, are they?” Emma’s eyebrows rose and she blinked solemnly at Regina. “Ill–founded, I mean. And I’m sure he’s not the only one who’s noticed.”

The Mayor smirked, satisfaction crossing her face. “Noticed what, exactly? This is hardly some foolish teenage love affair. Or are you planning on sending me a dozen roses every day and declaring your affection from the rooftops?” Her mouth curved into a wicked smile as Emma shifted uncomfortably and glared at her.

“Jesus, Regina,” she muttered as the Mayor gave a low chuckle and turned to face the blonde. “Who did this to you?”

Regina’s smile fell in an instant and her features hardened, mouth pinched and white around the edges. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she barked.

“You have to belittle everything,” Emma said slowly, watching as Regina’s eyes became shadowed, that veil she hid behind falling over them again. “It’s all beneath you, isn’t it? This town. The people in it. Me,” she added, her voice fading to a husk.

When Regina moved, it was with a lithe motion, body snaking sinuously over Emma’s. She caught the blonde’s wrists in her hands and pinned them to the pillow on either side of Emma’s head. Skin rubbed against skin, an electric instant as Regina’s thighs pressed against Emma’s hips. Despite her growing ire, the blonde found herself rocking towards the heat that grew between her legs, surrendering to it at the same time that she hated feeling it.

Regina’s head hung down and her mouth hovered inches above Emma’s. There was that smirk again; the sense of self–satisfaction that gleamed in her eyes before they flickered shut and her hips swathed a wet smear over Emma’s skin. She groaned, a deep sound of guttural pleasure that resonated in the blonde’s ears and drew a sigh from her chest.

“I’d say you are beneath me, wouldn’t you?” Regina drawled, opening her eyes and gazing down at Emma. There was a momentary flash of shock through blue, a split second of fearful anticipation. Emma struggled a little, trying to free herself from Regina’s grip but found that the Mayor was much stronger than her petite form indicated. The fingers around her wrists closed and, with another wicked chuckle, Regina leaned down and kissed Emma.

As she felt the other woman slide over her body with silken seduction, Emma couldn’t help wondering how this had happened. How her intentions upon arriving at the Mayoral mansion had wandered so far astray that they’d ended up in bed together. Again.

This time, it had rather taken both of them by surprise. Neither woman had planned it. Regina, deciding to work at home, had left a demanding pile of Mayoral papers on her desk to answer the door to Emma. She’d promised herself that she could and would resist the cresting lust that she felt for Miss Swan; that it was a passing fancy and nothing to lose any sleep over. When they’d spoken in the council chambers, Regina had managed to convince herself that the control she sought was well within her reach. She would not allow Emma to dislodge that, no matter what.

But when they were alone in the vast spaces of Regina’s home, silence smothering them, all it took was for Emma to shrug helplessly and look at Regina with pleading, woefully desperate eyes. Then they were in one another’s arms, tearing at clothing and leaving well–made intentions outside the door of Regina’s bedroom.

The Mayor had silently chided herself even as she removed her clothes, fingers moving automatically down the line of buttons on her blouse before they fled to the fastening on her skirt. There was a quiet urgency to their movements, gazes locking as they undressed. It was only when they were naked that they came together again, Emma’s palms smoothing over the curves of Regina’s shoulders, the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist. Shivering as Emma’s mouth closed over the hardened peak of her nipple, the Mayor had fallen onto the bed, pulling the other woman with her and clasping her tightly. And so it had begun in hesitant tenderness that lengthened each caress and drew ever–growing sighs of pleasure from Regina’s reluctant throat.

She regretted it now, though. And the kisses she bestowed upon Emma’s lips became hard and dominant. A fervent insistence began to move Regina’s hips in a circle, almost beyond her own volition. When she lifted her mouth from Emma’s, Regina’s teeth flashed suddenly as she grinned, a hungry predator toying with its prey.

“Don’t worry about Graham,” she breathed against Emma’s ear, feeing the other woman squirm quite delightfully underneath her. “Don’t worry about anyone. The people in this town see what I want them to see. You and I, Miss Swan,” she pushed downwards again and chuckled as Emma let out a groan of anguished want, “are not going to be figures of gossip. I’ll make sure of that.”

“You and I?” Emma echoed in a rasp as Regina’s mouth, tantalizing and sinfully talented, began a nibbling trail down her throat. “So you admit that there is a you and I, then?”

The laugh that sounded against her neck was muffled, but it sent a pang of dread into Emma’s chest nonetheless. Regina Mills had an arrogance to her that bordered on the tyrannical. Her confidence was absolute; her reign over Storybrooke formed in the set of her jaw and the glitter of her gaze, hard like diamonds. Emma recognized it in herself — at least, the part of her that wasn’t tempered by humility. In their private theater of conflict, Emma was sure that her well–nurtured sense of humanity was the only thing that kept her from being like Regina.

It made them worthy adversaries, at the very least.

Regina let go of one of Emma’s wrists, hand snaking down between their bodies to plunge deep into the cleft that throbbed unrelentingly where Emma was wet and wanting. Two delicate fingers pushed inside the blonde and, as her hips rose and jerked against Regina’s, Emma reached up with her free hand, winding her fingers into black hair and clutching at it.

Pulling Regina’s mouth away from her skin until their faces were close, almost touching, Emma dared to look into the eyes that stared back at her, the void behind them like endless night. Pity, horror and a surge of unheeded affection tugged at her mouth. For all the Mayor’s protestations and her own rational explanations, Emma knew that where once they had been lonely individuals, something had changed.

Regina’s fingers thrust inside her and Emma bucked again, crooking her knee, almost toppling the other woman to one side. But Regina merely smiled, sliding in between Emma’s legs without losing a single beat and only increasing the rhythm she had established inside slick, hot skin that tensed and closed around her fingers.

“Here, in my bed,” Regina growled, the timbre of her voice sending whispers of strange delight down Emma’s spine, “there is only you and I. But out there, we don’t exist. I like order, Miss Swan. I like my order.”

Throwing a leg over Emma’s thigh, Regina bore down on it and Emma moaned at the humid wetness that spread over her skin. Above her, Regina closed her eyes briefly and her teeth bit at her lower lip, making white indentations in the red flesh.

Emma blinked. Here, in this bed, disheveled and uncovered, Regina was utterly beautiful. It felt like the first time she’d ever noticed; the only time she’d ever properly seen it before.

Regina’s hand pushed against her, the heel of her palm bumping against Emma’s clitoris and drawing a loud cry from the blonde. Opening her eyes, Regina gazed down at Emma with an almost surprised, renewed gaze.

“You like my order too, don’t you?” she hissed, hips grinding onto Emma’s thigh and flooding her cheeks with a pink hue of pleasure. “Don’t you?” she said again, emphasizing her words with a harder thrust of her fingers, more cruel and demanding this time.

“Yes,” Emma gasped, squeezing her eyes shut and sucking in air, feeling her lungs and chest contracting with the sensations rushing through them. “God, yes, I do.”

“Say it,” Regina bore down on Emma’s thigh once more, her growing urgency and need for release almost overwhelming her. “Tell me. Tell me, Emma.”

Emma Swan was not a woman who bent easily, nor was she a woman who surrendered to the dictates of others without question or defiance. But Regina was too seductive; this feeling too dreadful and fulfilling for Emma to resist or ignore it. As she felt herself falling towards the darkness that shone in Regina’s gaze, Emma capitulated to it, welcomed it, even. It opened up the void inside of herself and recognized a fellow traveler on a lonely path. She had always run towards the light; there was so little of it in her life anyway that she grabbed at it whenever she could with greedy, outstretched hands.

But this? This was something that lurked within Emma, turning and returning to tempt her and it was forged in the heat that existed between them now. An enchantment that was as binding as the hold they had on one another. And as desperate.

“Please,” Regina was muttering under her breath, eyes fixated on Emma’s face, wide and filled with trepidation that quite unraveled the woman she had cursed herself to be. “Please…tell me you want me. Please.”

Emma’s throat thickened and she felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes, suddenly and without warning. Swallowing, she observed how the shadows fell from Regina’s face, leaving her open, vulnerable and begging for something…something new.

As she rose up to meet the other woman, hand curled around Regina’s neck, thumb dragging along her jawline, Emma allowed herself to fall.

“I want you,” she said. “I do…I want you.”

When she looked back on the shared moment; when Regina’s eyes met her own and light chased away the darkness for an infinitesimal moment, Emma would only ever remember one thing as she spiraled down into the gaping chasm below, open and waiting like a dragon’s maw. That when Regina’s mouth crushed against her own, she tasted only gratitude, only the relinquishment of all that existed outside this room, and the scattered, fractured pieces of another life only half–forgotten.

Part 8

Tradition in Storybrooke was something of an odd affair. Nobody could remember when it had begun, and yet everyone adhered to it with a resolute and energetic alacrity. Banners and bunting hung across Main Street, colorful pennants dancing in the wind and adding a friendly, welcoming air to the town. Shops had decorated their windows in deference to the Spring Fayre. On the patch of green that claimed to be the town square, several tents had been erected and Granny had filled one of them with baked goods that were temptingly delicious.

Regina stalked regally past the various stalls and gathered townspeople, nodding here and there with a gracious incline of her head. She had Henry’s hand grasped tightly in her own, trailing the boy along beside her like some sort of prized possession. In a way, he was, and the recalcitrant expression that crossed his features as he glanced up at his mother left Regina under no confusion as to the boy’s feelings.

Her grip on his hand increased slightly as they became immersed in among the gathering people, Regina’s pace slowing as she stopped by Granny’s stall and complimented her on the delectable items spread across it. Behind the stall, Ruby looked bored and barely acknowledged Regina’s greeting until Granny elbowed her in the ribs and she flashed the Mayor a bright, wide and utterly false smile.

But Regina refused to be irritated. For the first time in a long while, she felt genuinely pleased. Whether it was the fact that the weather had held for the day, the sun peering out from behind fluffy clouds, or whether it was that her town looked just the way she’d always wanted it to, she wasn’t sure. It might have even been something else; something indefinable that shone a light into the creeping darkness in her chest. But as she tugged Henry away from the cake stall, an iced bun that Granny had pressed into his hand halfway to his mouth, Regina felt a curious sense of hope.

She wasn’t very sure that she liked it. But she enjoyed the sense of pride it gave her, in the town, her achievements, everything she had created.

Further down the street, she saw Emma and Graham, heads bent together deep in discussion. She paused momentarily, Henry’s momentum carrying him forwards and jerking his hand in her own. Turning on her with accusatory eyes, he chomped furiously on the mouthful of iced bun in order to offer recriminations. Even as he did so, he followed Regina’s gaze to where it was fixed upon Emma and his face lit up.

“Emma!” he cried, after swallowing hard and wresting his hand from Regina’s. “Hey, Emma!”

Setting off at a rapid pace, he ran from Regina and darted in and out of townspeople until he fairly barreled into the Deputy.

Watching from a distance, Regina’s heart clenched in her chest as she saw Henry throw his arms around Emma, the Deputy’s own encircling his shoulders and clasping him against her for a moment. It hurt, seeing him freely offer affection so craved by herself to someone else. Someone that rattled around inside her brain; someone who had risen and fallen underneath her bedclothes and her hands and her kisses.

She wanted to hate. Wanted to strike Emma down in that moment. As Emma placed her hands on Henry’s shoulders, pushing him back a little and leaning down to talk to him, the Mayor felt jealousy rise up in her throat, thick and black. It simply wasn’t fair. She loved her son beyond the telling of it — beyond anything else she’d ever felt before. She had cared for him, nurtured him and watched him grow; tried to mold him into the sort of man she could be proud of. But his nature…his truest self and his heart? That belonged to someone else. Someone as troubled and lost as the boy himself seemed at times.

Emma ruffled Henry’s hair and he gestured vaguely behind him towards where Regina stood in the middle of the street. Straightening up, Emma looked through the crowd and her eyes met Regina’s, their gazes holding. A crooked smile passed over Emma’s mouth and she cocked her head onto one side, almost raising a hand in a gesture of greeting before she thought better of it and let it fall back again.

Regina’s mouth tightened and she slid her hands into the pockets of her jacket for a moment. She’d told Emma that out here among the townspeople and the curious gazes that were constantly flickering around them, nobody would know of their secret trysts and the afternoons spent in her huge bed. It had become quite a habit.

A bad one, Regina thought with a terse glare at Emma, who frowned and shook her head, fingers closing over Henry’s shoulder.

Bending down, Emma whispered something to Henry that brought a disconsolate expression to the boy’s face and he turned to look at Regina with nothing short of resentment. But Emma gave him a little shove in the center of his back, pushing him forwards a few paces. Clearly she’d told him to return to his mother.

But Regina knew that he already had. In ways that made her feel as though she was losing her grasp on everything. Because, without Henry, what had been the point of all of this in the first place?

She had enacted the curse to find her happy ending. And she’d had very clear ideas on what shape that happy ending should take; her own design as rigid and inflexible as her reign as Mayor. Regina had taken care of everything — everyone. And as she cast a lingering glance around the various stalls of the Spring Fayre and the people of her town who lived in ignorance of their true ancestry, she knew that she had left nothing to chance.

Except for the one thing she hadn’t anticipated: Emma Swan. Emma, and the confusing feelings she had thrown deep into Regina’s thoughts and heart.

It simply wouldn’t do, the Mayor straightened and held out a hand towards Henry, beckoning him towards her with an unrelenting gesture. Emma was good for sex in the privacy of her bedroom, just like Graham had been. But it was nothing more than that. Nothing more than the sating of her desires.

She had entertained romantic notions as a younger woman. As another woman. And they had been betrayed and ruined so that nothing remained. She was unable to feel now, even if she had wanted to, and Regina desperately, fervently didn’t. Not for Emma Swan.

“Madame Mayor,” a voice greeted her as she pasted a polite smile onto her lips and pushed away the confusing, billowing thoughts in her head. Turning, she saw David and Kathryn Nolan standing by her side, their hands loosely clasped together.

“The Spring Fayre is wonderful this year,” Kathryn said, bobbing her head towards Regina and sweeping one arm out. “You must be very proud.”

“Thank you, Kathryn,” Regina said warmly, instinctively reaching out and squeezing the other woman’s upper arm before she was aware of what she was doing. Demurring, she shook her head almost wonderingly and withdrew as Henry skipped up to the small group, gazing up at David with somewhat suspicious eyes.

Regina slid her arm around the boy’s shoulders and pulled him against her, feeling him bump on her hips and stiffen slightly.

“Hey, Henry,” David grinned down at the boy. “How’s it going?”

Henry squinted up at him, face drawn in contemplation. “Okay, I guess,” he replied in a pondering voice. “Have you seen Miss Blanchard? She’s here today.”

David shifted uncomfortably and exchanged a glance with his wife that passed over her features in a blush. It was clear that the subject of the schoolteacher was one that neither wished to dwell upon; it was also clear that they had done so enough before this moment for the mere mention of her to cloud Kathryn’s sunny smile.

“Henry,” Regina said, her fingers hard on the boy’s shoulder and an apologetic smile curving her lips.

“No, it’s okay,” David waved his free hand in the air while his other gripped Kathryn’s a little more firmly, reassuringly. “We just got here, Henry. I guess we’ll have plenty of time to see everyone by the end of the afternoon.”

“That’s not what I — ”

“Henry!” Regina insisted, cutting off the boy’s protestations and reducing him to a rather more sulky presence by her side. She rolled her eyes before her gaze met Kathryn’s and she saw the vague panic in the other woman’s eyes. “He’s really quite attached to his teacher,” she explained hurriedly. “He’s at that age.”

“Yes,” Kathryn nodded, nodding gratefully at Regina. “From what I hear she’s a wonderful schoolteacher.” But her voice wavered slightly and Regina felt a surge of protective care flood her chest. Whatever machinations she had brought to bear in order to keep David and Mary Margaret apart, she hadn’t expected their result to be friendship. And now that she had it from this woman, Regina found herself oddly reluctant to let it slip away.

“Miss Blanchard certainly likes to develop the children’s imagination,” Regina said flatly, her mouth a thin line of distaste.

“Well,” David leant down, bending towards Henry, “how about you and your mom come to dinner next week and you can tell us about what you’ve learned at school, huh?”

Henry glanced up at his mother and she eyed him with a mixture of indulgence and the promise of punishment should he continue along his current line of thought. Even at ten years old, Henry was wise enough to know when to keep his ideas to himself and he smiled politely, just as he’d been taught to do.

“We wanted to invite you…both of you over to say thank you for all the help you’ve given us recently,” Kathryn looked at Regina and smiled, seeing a faint echo of pleasure in the other woman’s gaze.

“That’s really not necessary — ” Regina began, but David, straightening up, gave her an oddly comforting grin and shrugged.

“Not necessary, maybe,” he intoned. “But we’d still like you to come over anyway.”

Next to him, his wife nodded encouragingly and slid her arm through his. They looked for all the world like a normal, happy, married couple. Even if Regina knew that they were a lie. A perversion of the fairytale that had been thrown in her face.

Perhaps it was that memory and the spark of jealous anger that it pierced into her chest, or perhaps it was the fact that Kathryn was the only friend she had made in this town in the last 28 years. Either way, Regina found herself breathing out a long, thankful sigh and smiling at them in a genuine manner that slid up into her eyes and gave the darkness there some respite.

“Thank you,” she said graciously. “We’d love to, wouldn’t we Henry?” She glanced down at her son and he shrugged noncommittally, squirming slightly in her grip.

“Well then,” David released his wife and clapped his hands together, rubbing his palms in glee at a done deal. “It’ll give me the opportunity to try out a new recipe on you.”

Kathryn rolled her eyes and pushed at his shoulder. “Come on,” she urged, laughing at him. “We’ve bothered the Mayor enough. Let’s go and check out the rest of the fayre.”

Bidding them goodbye, Regina found herself staring after them. David had remembered himself — at least, the man she had made him into. And he had honored his commitments in this life and this town, perhaps to the detriment of his heart. But then again, since when had she failed to gain control over a heart? If she were a lesser woman, she might have felt shame about deceiving a man who, to all intents and purposes, was pure of heart.

But then, Regina reminded herself, she wasn’t a lesser woman. She was great and mighty. The creator of this town and everyone in it. Whatever the heart longed for — whatever David Nolan’s heart longed for — was immaterial in light of that. So as she watched the couple walk along the line of brightly decorated stalls, Regina felt no guilt for what she had done. Because how could she, when her actions had given birth to a friendship?

She had always told herself that she didn’t need friends. But the dinner invitation the Nolans had made stuck in her throat and reminded her that perhaps, even people like her needed someone.

“Henry, want to come and play some of the games with me?” Graham’s voice nearby brought Regina out of her reverie and she blinked up at the tall figure looming over the boy next to her side.

“You can win your mom a prize,” Graham cajoled, squinting up at Regina, his mouth curved into a lopsided grin.

She patted her son on the head almost absent mindedly because, to Graham’s right, stood Emma Swan. Close and ever–present. Swallowing, Regina caught her breath and nodded abruptly at Henry, giving him a little push towards the Sheriff.

“Go on,” she said, and smiled down at him in the hopes that he might one day return it without a begrudging sense of duty. He blinked up at her solemnly and shrugged, but took Graham’s outstretched hand without protest and allowed the Sheriff to lead him into the crowd where they soon disappeared among the milling townspeople.

All of which left Regina alone with Emma. And they did feel alone. Even surrounded by everyone whom the Mayor knew would be watching and waiting for their next spat — even perhaps expecting it with some sense of wicked glee — Regina felt as though she and Emma occupied the space around them. Everyone else just faded away. Unimportant, uninvited. She felt Emma’s eyes on her; the bounty hunter had once told her that she could tell if someone was lying and Regina never felt that more keenly than this minute. Because it seemed that Emma was determined to eke the truth out of her one way or another.

For a woman whose present was built on a deception of her past, it was a tenuous situation in which to find herself.

“Henry seems to be having fun,” Emma offered awkwardly, attempting a smile that soon faded as Regina snorted and tossed her head.

“Really?” The Mayor’s arms crept around her torso as they so often did when she was around Emma. Protection, defense — it was the only battle armor she had left these days. “I think he’d rather be at home. Or with you,” she added, her lip curling.

Emma shrugged, shoving her hands into the pockets of her impossibly tight jeans. “The kid’ll get over that,” she said dismissively, but she gazed at Regina from beneath hooded eyes and saw the expression of abject dismay that crossed the Mayor’s features.

“Look” Emma said, a little more quietly, taking a step towards Regina. “I’m a novelty in his life right now. Something new. You know what kids are like; always wanting to play with new toys.”

Regina’s eyebrows rose and she stood a little taller, almost sniffing with disdain. “I’d hardly describe Henry finding his birth mother as a ‘new toy’, Miss Swan,” she said curtly. “But I do know what children are like, yes. I know what Henry’s like. I’m fairly certain that you don’t.”

An equivocal expression passed over Emma’s face and she let out a sigh, shoulders drooping slightly. These days, she was constantly caught between the desire to charge into battle with Regina and the prescient need to bear her soul to her. It was an odd conflict of emotions, to say the least. But Emma’s sense of self–preservation won out, in the end. Just like it always had.

She frowned, taking another step closer to Regina and observing how the other woman’s arms tightened around her torso, clutching on as if for dear life.

“Can we…” she began, glancing around and lowering her voice to a near whisper, almost lost in the hum and buzz of the crowd around them. “I want to talk about this.”

“About…what, exactly?” Regina’s chin lifted and she stared at Emma with as much imperious disinterest as she could muster. But under Emma’s widening eyes her heart lurched in her chest and she clamped her lips together lest they should tremble and give her away.

Emma smirked, but it lacked mirth and was quite without mockery. “About the fact that on three separate occasions this week, I’ve spent the afternoon in your bed,” she said in a low tone. “With you.”

Now Regina’s eyes flew open, dark panic flooding them and causing her to drop her arms by her side where her hands clenched into tight fists.

“Is this really the appropriate time or place?” Regina hissed, moving so close to Emma that they were almost touching. For a moment, she forgot the people around them and was caught by the proximity of the other woman, by the surge of terrifying lust that ached in her gut and the need to reach out, touch, grasp, take.

“There is no appropriate time or place according to you,” Emma growled. Their eyes met and held for a moment before the blonde shrugged. “Every time we try to figure this out, it seems like talking isn’t exactly our strong point.”

Even as she quirked an eyebrow she was overwhelmed by the memories of Regina’s body against her own and the abandoned need for words or communication that wasn’t tangled in the sheets of a bed or the shape of their limbs falling and rising underneath them.

“Why is this so important to you?” Regina said, eyes narrowing. “Give it a few more weeks and I’m sure you’ll be running away just like you have from everywhere else you’ve ever been.”

Emma flinched, but was strong enough not to show it. Instead, she blinked under Regina’s steady gaze and took a fortifying breath. “I’m not running away,” she said. And she meant it, too.

She wasn’t sure what was more alarming — that she’d said it or that she felt it, deep within her chest. Permanence had never been one of her talents. But here, in Storybrooke, she had found more reasons to stay than she suspected.

“Not yet,” Regina countered. “But when you do, I’m the one who will have to pick up the pieces of Henry’s life once you’ve shattered them apart. And yet all you want to talk about is the dalliance you and I have been indulging in rather than the child whose life you’re ruining.”

“Hey,” Emma lifted a finger between them, jabbing it into the air, “it’s because of the kid that I want to talk about it! What we’re doing…whatever this is…how do you think Henry’s going to feel if he finds out about it?”

Regina’s shoulders lifted dismissively, then dropped. “He never found out about Graham and I. What makes you think you’re any more special?”

Emma’s mouth formed a moue of distaste. She’d known about Regina and Graham, of course. But it didn’t mean it failed to rankle in her stomach or prickle her throat with faint disgust. If she were to examine it, she might assume it felt the same as jealousy, hot and acrid at the back of her mouth. But she’d never felt jealous over anyone before, and refused to feel that way about Regina Mills.

Especially not about Regina Mills.

“You know,” Emma said slowly, her gaze tracking Regina’s features and desperately trying to define what she saw there, “everything you’ve done since I came here kinda seems like a desperate attempt to get rid of me. But look at where we’ve ended up anyway. With me in your bed. I’d say that makes me pretty special, wouldn’t you?”

Now Regina’s gaze flickered. Just for a moment, but it was enough for Emma to see beyond the sheen of black to something that she thought she’d spied before. Something tangible.

“The assumptions you make about yourself, dear,” Regina began in a tone thickened by adopted civility that barely covered the dangerous tone of her voice, “are as ridiculous as the notions you have about your importance in my life. And in Henry’s.”

“Okay,” Emma shrugged again, throwing off the barbs that had struck home with far more accuracy than she cared to admit. Because when she did think about it, there was a strange desire within her to mean something to someone. To the woman in front of her and the strange little boy she’d given birth to. To indulge in his stories and be the hero he espoused her to be. To save him, Storybrooke, and, perhaps, even Regina herself.

She leaned in towards the Mayor so that only the other woman could hear her. “I’ll bear that in mind the next time you’re begging me to tell you that I want you, then, right?”

Their hands brushed against one another and Emma felt the Mayor shudder slightly before backing away. Regina Mills was a lot of things: leader, tyrant, indomitable and perniciously manipulative. But she was also a woman. And never more so than in this moment, when she gazed curiously at Emma with surprised eyes.

In their never–ending game of point scoring, Emma should have felt triumphant. She’d seen Regina undone, but only in the moments of passion and lust that they shared in secret. In the public arena, the Mayor kept a firm hold on the persona she’d created to display to the people of Storybrooke. It was as much her armor as was Emma’s cavalier attitude towards involvement and emotional entanglements.

But it seemed that, for both of them, the armor was falling from their limbs and exposing their vulnerabilities, ready for the killshot.

“Miss Swan,” Regina tugged at the lapels of her jacket and glared at the blonde. “Don’t you know by now that emotional blackmail simply won’t work on me?” She rested back on her heels, a satisfied smirk curving her lips.

“Is that because you don’t have any, or because you’re afraid to?” Emma retorted, anger growing in her stomach and contorting her features into a scowl.

But Regina merely laughed, a brittle sound that masked everything she thought she might feel, or never feel again.

“When you’re ready to put such foolish notions out of your head and continue our ill–advised but enjoyable little game,” Regina smiled, ever the predator, eyes darkening with a lust for the other woman that couldn’t be sated, “you just let me know. Until then, please, leave me alone.”

She turned to make her way through the crowd, suddenly seeking the anonymity it could offer her and the unquestioning devotion her people could give her. But a hand on her arm stayed her progress and she turned, rage flushing red across her cheeks.

Regina was ready to speak, ready to charge into battle with Emma once more and resume the antagonistic existence they had carved out for themselves. But when she saw the determination in blue eyes that looked into her own and saw the set of Emma’s jaw, she hesitated for a second. Just for a second, but long enough for Emma to see a moment of utter depraved weakness split Regina in two.

Letting go of Regina’s arm, Emma shook her head.

“I can’t,” she said. “I won’t.”

Regina’s eyes widened and her head jerked back on her neck. “Then on your own head be the consequences, dear,” she answered, before turning and stalking away through the crowd.

“She’s not a nice person, you know,” a soft voice reached Emma’s ear and she spun around to see Mary Margaret hovering almost apologetically by her side. She was holding some cotton candy in one hand, the other smoothing nervously down the back of her neck. Her gaze flickered in the direction of Regina’s exit, but soon returned to fix on Emma’s face, concern drawing her brows together.

“Well she won’t be winning Storybrooke’s Miss Congeniality anytime soon,” Emma remarked wryly, rolling her eyes. “But I’m not sure she’s Henry’s Evil Queen,” she added with a smile.

Mary Margaret let out a sad little huff of laughter and tilted her head to one side, eyes narrowing as she looked through the crowd to where David and Kathryn Nolan were perusing Granny’s stall, arms linked.

“I’m not sure any of us are who Henry thinks we are,” she said slowly.

Following her gaze, Emma let out a sigh and shook her head. “He made his choice. He has to keep to it, I guess.”

“Yeah,” the schoolteacher inclined her head and avoided Emma’s enquiring eyes as the blonde turned back to her. “I just wish…”

Catching her breath, she forced a smile onto her lips and shook her head. “Let’s face it,” she said a little more brightly, “if we really were living in Henry’s fairytale book, then wishes could come true and we wouldn’t even be having this conversation.”

“Right,” Emma nodded firmly. “And Regina would have been turned into a toad or something long before now.” She reached out and grabbed some cotton candy, shoving it into her mouth with aplomb and drawing a more genuine smile from the other woman.

“You and she have a very odd relationship,” Mary Margaret commented, snatching a piece of cotton candy for herself and falling into step beside Emma as they wandered down the middle of Main Street.

“Hardly a relationship,” Emma retorted, as though the very idea was entirely too ridiculous to contemplate. But her cheeks flushed pink momentarily and she turned her head away from Mary Margaret’s solemn, questioning eyes. “It’s more…” she paused thoughtfully before throwing her hands up into the air, “more just arguing and sex, really.”

Even though the thought of intimate relations with Regina Mills put the fear of the Almighty into Mary Margaret’s gentle heart, and even if she couldn’t understand why on earth Emma would put herself in that position — or any — with the Mayor, the schoolteacher didn’t fail to notice the wavering bravado in Emma’s voice. Nor did she miss the blush across the other woman’s face, however fleeting.

“Aren’t you afraid she’ll use you?” she asked quietly, as they paused by a stall selling knick–knacks and items of no possible use other than to pointlessly adorn a mantelpiece in someone’s home. “That it’s all part of some plan of hers? I mean, you of all people know what she’s like. And there’s Henry, and — ”

“Hey.” Emma’s hand closed around Mary Margaret’s arm and she smiled at the schoolteacher, eyes kind and considerate. “You worry too much. I can take care of myself. It is what it is, you know?”

“Arguing and sex?” Mary Margaret suggested with a sly grin.

Emma laughed and let go of the other woman’s arm, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jeans and shrugging. “Something like that, yeah,” she nodded. They continued walking for a moment until Mary Margaret made a contemplative noise and slid her arm through Emma’s.

“That doesn’t sound very fulfilling,” she murmured, bumping her shoulder against the blonde’s.

Emma scanned the crowd in front of them, catching sight of Regina leaning over Henry as he reluctantly handed her a stuffed toy. The Mayor took it as though it was some sort of precious award and held it aloft for a minute before putting her arm around the boy and pulling him close. There was great affection in the gesture, even if Henry looked uncomfortable at being the recipient of it, and Emma couldn’t help wondering if, even in the blackest of hearts, there was still the desire to be loved and wanted. That if the lack of it had made Regina who she was. And if redemption, if there was still such a thing in the world, wasn’t denied to those who needed it the most.

“Oh,” she smiled at Mary Margaret and squeezed her arm close with her elbow, “you’d be surprised.”

Part 9

Regina was already on her feet, moving towards her mirror, staring into it and shoving at her hair by the time Emma struggled up into a rather more upright position than the one she’d been in just a few moments before. The Mayor had pulled on her robe, fastening it tightly around her slender waist and accentuating the figure that Emma had traced with eager fingers and an even more eager mouth for what seemed like hours.

Glancing at her watch on the bedside table, Emma frowned. It had been less than an hour. Not nearly as long as she would have liked. And these ‘meetings’, as Regina liked to call them, were becoming shorter as time moved on.

It wasn’t the actual time span that bothered her so much as Regina’s lack of commitment to it; how she became distant once their lovemaking was over, fairly leaping out of bed and ushering Emma from her home as quickly as possible.

Never one for sentiment, Emma hadn’t questioned it at first. But today, now, it put a frown onto her brow and tugged at her mouth as she watched Regina primp in front of the large mirror on one side of the room.

Over her shoulder, Regina caught sight of Emma’s reflection and her fingers ceased their movement in her hair.

“Don’t frown, dear,” she advised almost mockingly. “You’ll give yourself lines on that pretty face of yours before they’re due.”

“Very funny,” Emma huffed, flopping back down onto the bed before rolling over and leaning up onto one elbow. “Like you haven’t done enough to put multiple lines there already.”

“Me?” Regina’s face was a picture of innocent surprise and amazement and she turned, facing Emma, hands moving to her hips in defiance.

Emma couldn’t resist a smile, albeit one of wry disapproval. “Yeah, you,” she said in a low tone. “Let’s see,” she began, holding up a hand and ticking items off on her fingers, “you warn Mary Margaret off David Nolan, you manipulate Sydney Glass into printing stories about me that are blatantly untrue, you have poor Graham arrest me twice for nothing at all, you make several really transparent threats about my relationship with Henry…should I go on?”

“Hm,” Regina’s eyes flashed with a dark light and she walked to the bed, sitting down delicately onto the edge of it. “If you must, then by all means, continue to tell me what a terrible person I am. But it’s rather tacky, don’t you think, to discuss business after…” a lazy smile curved her lips and her eyes tracked the form of Emma’s naked body under the sheet, “…pleasure.”

“And then you expect me to come running at a moment’s notice so we can have sex before you turf me out of your home like some sort of hooker,” Emma continued blithely as though Regina hadn’t spoken.

The Mayor inspected her fingernails and ignored the glare directed her way. “Well if the trashy clothes fit…” she mused, smirking at her inference. But Emma was not to be deterred and her gimlet gaze soon had Regina turning to her, meeting her with the same amount of unbreakable spirit in her eyes.

“Is this about how I run my town, or is it about our little arrangement?” Regina asked, waving her fingers into the space between them on the bed. “And may I remind you, Deputy, that you did come running at a moment’s notice.” There was a gleam of satisfaction in the Mayor’s eyes that sparked ire into Emma’s gut, crawling up her body to pinch at the back of her neck and she stiffened angrily.

“And may I remind you, Madame Mayor, that the only time you act like a human being is when we’re in bed. Maybe I come running because it’s nice to be reminded that you’re actually capable of it sometimes.”

Regina’s face hardened, her lips twitching. But Emma was not to be moved and continued to stare at Regina with all the strength she could muster.

“Do you know why I continue with this?” Regina said in a low tone. “Why, against my better judgment, I want you in my bed?”

“It’s because I thought you were like me. Free of those ridiculous emotional entanglements that the likes of Mary Margaret Blanchard harbor and hope for in a romantic dream.” Regina’s voice dripped with disdain and her lip curled over the mere verbalizing of it.

“You never stay anywhere long enough to actually feel anything for anyone. In fact,” Regina returned to inspecting her nails and half–turned away from Emma, “I’m not even sure that you could even if you wanted to. And that’s why this works, dear. I’m not looking for a happy ever after with you, if that’s what’s been so troublesome for you.”

Now she looked at Emma again, and there was a pinched shape to her mouth, a sadness in her eyes that not even the practiced manner of the Mayor could hide.

“Happy endings don’t exist. Not for people like you and me.”

Emma moved forwards on the bed, scrambling towards Regina and trying to define the break in her voice, the widening of her eyes, what lay in their depths. She clutched the sheet around her and sat up so that her eyes were level with the Mayor’s and frowned.

“I told you I wasn’t running away,” she finally spoke, watching carefully as Regina avoided her gaze.

“And the promises one makes in the heat of passion are usually broken first,” Regina said, her voice heavy with a wistful sadness that clenched unexpectedly at Emma’s heart.

“Listen,” Emma reached out, laying her hand onto Regina’s thigh. The other woman flinched and Emma’s frown deepened. She moved closer, peering up into Regina’s face. “Listen,” she said again, more emphatically. “This isn’t the heat of passion, or whatever you want to call it. And I’m not running away. Not from Henry. Not from you.”

Regina’s lips moved, tightening a little. She looked at Emma’s hand on her leg and felt a momentary desire burn in her chest. But not one of lust. And it terrified her enough for her to shift away from the other woman’s touch. No. This wasn’t right. It couldn’t be.

“So you’re not the woman I thought you were,” she said, almost to herself. “Clearly living with our kind–hearted schoolteacher has had a detrimental effect on you.”

“Please,” Emma groaned, letting out a grumbling sigh. “Can you just stop being such a — ”

“A what?” Regina turned on her, face pale and angry. “My own son thinks I’m some sort of Evil Queen. What on earth would you like me to be, Miss Swan?”

“How about honest?” Emma said, jaw hardening. “For once, Regina. Just try it. People don’t do the things we do and not feel anything at all, dammit!”

“Oh, really?” Regina was scornful, tossing her head and sneering down at the blonde. “Perhaps you’re mistaking the things we do,” she spat out the words as though they tasted bad in her mouth, “for something that they’re not. I enjoy your body, Deputy. That has nothing to do with the heart. If you can’t or won’t understand that, then perhaps our little arrangement has come to an end.”

“Yeah?” Emma shoved the sheet to one side and lurched from the bed, pacing around it to grab at her clothes where they lay on the floor in a jumble. Dragging them on over her limbs, she thrust her arms angrily through her tank top and pulled it down over her chest. “Well maybe it has.”

She glanced at Regina, still sitting on the bed, back ramrod straight, silent.

“You know,” Emma blurted, struggling into her jacket and pushing her hair over the collar, “I sometimes wonder if you love anything other than power and pushing people around like we’re all little chess pieces.” She blinked at the sound of her own voice, how angry it was, how hurt.

“How dare you,” Regina spoke, rising to her feet and marching around the bed to face Emma, eyes raging with dark fire. “I have cared for this town for longer than you can possibly imagine. I have nurtured it and brought order to it. All you’ve brought is abject chaos. You might have the people of Storybrooke falling at your feet, Miss Swan, but I refuse to be taken in by your so–called charms.”

Emma could feel Regina’s breath on her cheek, could almost taste the vitriol in the other woman’s words. Her gaze was black, unerringly thick with a resentment and bitterness that Emma was sure wasn’t all aimed directly at her. It was curious, in a way, how Regina could be so angered by the accusation of being a persona she herself perpetuated. By design and by her own hand, Regina Mills had become lonely. And yet, it seemed to bring out the worst in her.

“How did you get this way?” Emma wondered, and the words were out of her mouth before she had the wherewithal to contain them. “You just push people away so that nobody can ever get close. Or is that what you’re scared of, huh?”

“Scared?” Regina retorted, lifting her chin defiantly. “I’m not scared of anyone or anything, dear. And certainly not you.”

But it was a lie. Emma knew that. It was her gift, after all. But it wasn’t just that. She knew it from the way that Regina’s lips trembled, and from the threatening tears that glistened in black eyes. She knew it from the way Regina stood too close to her, too near, too wanting and desperate to move away.

And in the lie, truth was found.

Emma reached out, sliding her hand across Regina’s cheek even as the other woman tried to move away. Regina’s hands moved to Emma’s shoulders, attempting to increase the distance between them but it was to no avail as fingers curled around the Mayor’s neck and held on tight.

“Now who’s the one running away?” Emma murmured as she drew Regina towards her.

When their lips met, it was without the crushing lust that typified their kisses. There was an absence of want; a longing of a different kind. And the second that Emma’s mouth was on Regina’s, the Mayor shuddered, hands falling from Emma’s shoulders to hang limply by her sides.

It happened quickly. The rushing, flooding memories like a crack of thunder inside Regina’s head. Things she’d forgotten; things she’d found she would never forget. All the pain and misery that she had held at bay opened inside her like a night–blooming flower, petals stretched outwards towards the darkness that consumed her. It hurt, too. Pain piercing like a bolt of electricity inside her head and slicing downwards through her body: everything she had ever done and caused up until this moment tumbled into her brain and split her apart in Emma’s arms. And Regina saw it all, an onlooker to her own demise. The loneliness, the heartbreak, the anger and wretched solitude.

It wasn’t evil that had brought her to this place. It was love. And she never wanted to feel its heady peaks or devastating troughs ever again.

This time, when she put her hands onto Emma’s shoulders, she pushed firmly enough to make the blonde stagger backwards, their kiss broken. Confusion flooded Emma’s features and her mouth opened in protest, but Regina shook her head and turned away lest she should be revealed.

“You need to leave,” she said in a grated tone, roughened with emotion that had forced its way to the surface anyway, despite her best efforts to quell it. “Now.”

“I’m sorry if I — ” Emma began, lurching forwards, but Regina had wrapped her arms around her body and was moving away, stumbling around the corner of the bed.

“Just go. Please.”

By the time Regina had stopped shaking and released the grip she had on herself, Emma was gone.

Part 10

Graham had spent the better part of an hour watching Emma. She was agitated, tidying her desk with an accentuated vigor that was wholly unnecessary. After that, her circle of cleaning had widened to beyond her own desk and had almost reached his by the time he finally spoke up.

“Emma,” he said slowly, as she reached for the stack of papers on his desk with fervent, quickened fingers.

It was only as she sighed under her breath, muttering something he couldn’t quite hear but was pretty sure contained expletives even he hadn’t heard before, that he reached out and caught her wrist in his hand.

“Emma,” he said again. “I might not be the best detective in the world, but I can tell there’s something wrong.”

Her eyes met his and she stared blankly for moment. Then she let out another frustrated sigh and tugged her wrist from his grasp, straightening up on the other side of his desk. Pushing at her hair, she looked at his kind eyes, the faint smile on his mouth and the patient way in which he waited for her to speak.

Graham was a good man, of that Emma was sure. And the moments of intimacy they had shared might have been fleeting and inconsequential, but she knew that were she to pursue him, he would be a reliable and solid partner. It was who he was; why he was Sheriff. Despite Regina’s machinations and Graham’s involvement in carrying them out, his intentions were good. Emma could forgive him any transgressions enacted under Regina’s direction because who in this town wielded any sort of power without the Mayor’s hand of puppetry behind it?

“You don’t have to tell me, of course,” Graham intoned, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms over his chest. There was a resignation to his voice that put a frown onto Emma’s brow and she shrugged, sighing again.

“It’s not that…” she began, then paused, glancing at him and pursing her lips. Graham’s relationship with Regina — if she could call it that — had made trusting him an unreliable and dangerous choice. But Emma was pretty sure that it was all over now; that she was the only body gracing Regina’s bed. So Graham must have been treated with the same sort of indifferent amusement that she herself had been subjected to.

That didn’t really help.

“Then what is it?” he urged gently, reaching up to stroke at his beard. “You can tell me, you know.”

“Can I?” she laughed bitterly, tossing her head. “I’m not sure I can tell anyone anything without it somehow getting back to our venerable Mayor sooner or later.”

“Ah.” Graham nodded sagely and looked down at his lap. Emma wasn’t sure what emotion crossed his face in that moment. Regret? Sadness? Something else?

“Yeah,” she nodded. She pulled out the chair on the opposite side of his desk and wearily sank into it. If she were to admit it, she was still angry about what had happened with Regina, the constant push and pull of the other woman and the ever–present desire Emma felt to dig underneath the surface. She was tenacious, if nothing else, and Regina represented a rather more challenging case than the ones she was used to.

But it didn’t mean she was going to give up.

She knew she couldn’t even if she tried.

“If I tell you something, do you promise not to judge me or fire me or…or…or pull your gun on me?” she asked, squinting over the desk at Graham.

He smiled, his mouth lopsided and eyes twinkling with good–natured humor. “Sure,” he said, “as long as you tell me you haven’t committed murder because I don’t know if even I could let that go.”

Emma laughed. “No, it’s not murder. Not yet,” she added with a wry grin.

“Our Madame Mayor does have a habit of getting you a little…heated,” Graham said tentatively, avoiding Emma’s gaze.

“She’s impossible!” Emma blurted, before clamping her lips together and grinding her back teeth agitatedly.

Graham remained somewhat nonplussed and merely lifted his chin. “Regina likes to gather the strongest people around her,” he explained. “You’re a threat to her, Emma. She’s going to make sure she does her level best to keep you under control.”

“Like she did you?” The words were out of Emma’s mouth before she could stop them and her eyes flew open in horror, a hand rising to cover her parted lips. “Oh, god…Graham…I’m — ”

“No, no,” he lifted a hand to halt her apology and shrugged almost shamefully. “You’re right. She and I…” He took a breath and held it for a second, then let it out in a long, slow stream.

“I didn’t feel anything with her, you know,” he told the blonde, his voice low and grave. “I wanted to, but I just didn’t. And I kept going back in the hope that one day I would. Then you came to town and…”

A slow smile crept over his mouth and he looked at Emma with grateful kindness. “I didn’t have to pretend any more.”

“You’re…” Emma leaned forwards in her chair and frowned at him. “You’re relieved?”

Graham let out a chuckle and shrugged again, the gesture dismissive but the expression in his eyes almost sad. “I’d rather be alone than feel nothing with her,” he said quietly. His gaze flickered across Emma’s features and he drew in a breath, rubbing at his beard again.

“It’s not the same for you, is it?”

Emma’s head jerked back on her neck and she was ready to refute his claim with her usual bravado. But she found that she was unable to do so. Because if she was honest with herself — truly honest — then the emotions she experienced in connection with Regina Mills were a maelstrom of terrifying blackness. It caught in her throat, whirling around her head and gave her pause.

She did feel something when she was with Regina. A confusing something; a something that she had yet to fully define. As a woman who cut a clear line through life and left nothing to chance, Emma hated how the not knowing burgeoned in her chest and scattered heavy clouds into her head.

“I don’t think it’s that obvious to anyone else,” Graham continued. “But I knew the moment Regina told me she no longer required my services that she’d found someone else. Like I said, she prefers to gather the strongest people around her in whatever way she can.”

“I don’t — I mean, it’s not what you think,” Emma stammered.

“Isn’t it?” Graham mused. But he’d seen that look before; the expression of utter horror at the revelation of feelings that were unwelcome, resisted. Because that was the way Regina looked at Emma and he knew the Mayor well enough to see it when nobody else could.

“I don’t know. God…I don’t know.” Emma slumped helplessly into her seat and rubbed a hand over her face. “It’s fucked up; that’s what it is.”

“Look, Emma, I know Regina can be hard at times,” Graham said and smiled faintly at the glare Emma shot him across the desk. “Yeah, I guess that’s an understatement,” he qualified.

“But I don’t think she’s as incapable of feeling as you might have decided she is,” he told her. “She really does love Henry, you know. And if she can love him, then she’s not completely evil.”

“Evil?” Emma echoed, twin lines furrowing her forehead. “Graham, I never said she was evil.”

“But you might have thought it, when you’re with her, right?” His eyebrows rose and he shifted slightly in his seat. “I did too. But I think she’s just better at hiding things than maybe you and I are. Which is why you’re a perfect match for her, isn’t it?”

Emma sat up in her chair, shaking her head. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” Graham cocked his head onto one side and gave her another tiny grin. “You’re good at finding things, aren’t you? It was your job before you came here.”

“Yeah, but I found people, Graham. Not the messed up emotions of a wannabe despot,” Emma remarked, a tone of dismissal entering her voice. But even as she spoke, his words stuck in her head and she began to wonder about Storybrooke, about Henry and his claims of a curse. And especially, always, about Regina.

“Things change, Emma.” Graham looked at her with dark, serious eyes and for a moment it seemed that he knew far more than he was telling. “At least, they have since you arrived in town. Maybe you were just looking in the wrong places before now.”

Regina liked to know that the town was running smoothly under her direction, so she made what she secretly called ‘morning rounds’ in order to satisfy her sense of wellbeing. All it took was a short visit to some of the stores, the exchange of pleasantries with the shopkeepers and workers around the town, and the firm establishment of her presence in the town she had created.

She usually finished her rounds at Granny’s diner, rewarding her efforts with a cup of coffee that wasn’t the best she’d ever tasted, but it did offer her the opportunity to observe the comings and goings in the diner. Most everyone stopped by at some point during the day and in the morning, there was usually a muted bustle of visitors to watch.

It also hadn’t passed Regina’s notice that Emma generally swung by to grab coffee and, despite herself, there was a sense of anticipation in the Mayor’s chest as she opened the door and seated herself at a table by the window. Granny immediately sent Ruby over with a steaming cup of coffee and Regina offered the girl a polite smile of thanks. Ruby blinked at her, clearly bored and unaffected by the presence of the Mayor and normally, Regina would have cut the girl down to size but this morning, she found herself preoccupied.

Emma wasn’t there.

As she lifted the coffee cup to her lips and sipped at the scalding liquid, Regina wasn’t sure if she felt disappointed or annoyed. Probably both. Emma Swan had an unnerving habit of eliciting conflicting emotions that Regina would really rather not even contemplate, let alone actually feel. She’d written that sort of thing out of her history and intended to erase it from her future, too. The only love that mattered was the devotion she had to her son and although he wouldn’t return it, Regina was determined to continue to feel it.

Even if it seemed to be suffocating him.

Sighing irritably, Regina pulled a copy of The Mirror towards her and scanned the front page, which boasted the success of the Spring Fayre in huge, black letters. Her eyes tracked the article and she caught sight of her own name — mentioned three times at least, as she’d instructed Mr Glass — as well as notable others who had won various prizes. A smug smile passed over her lips. Yes; this was the town she’d created. Insufferable normality that she had pieced together, bit by bit.

“Madame Mayor? May I speak with you?”

Looking up, Regina’s smile disappeared as she saw Mary Margaret Blanchard on the opposite side of the table. With a careless gesture, Regina waved to the chair in front of the schoolteacher and replaced her coffee cup onto the table with deliberate slowness.

Sliding into the chair, Mary Margaret proffered a nervous smile and attempted to compose herself under Regina’s hardening gaze.

“Well?” the Mayor finally prompted, impatient for this conversation to be over already. Mary Margaret might not be the Snow White of the other world, but Regina still hated her, still despised the fact that she had carved out a content, if lonely, existence in Storybrooke. The teacher had found her own happiness in this realm. Regina was still searching, desperately so.

Drawing a short, tremulous breath, Mary Margaret’s head bobbed up and down and she leaned over the table a little.

“It’s about Emma,” she said, eyes widening slightly at the shadows that fell immediately over Regina’s face.

“Oh? And what, exactly, did you want to tell me about Miss Swan that I don’t already know?”

Mary Margaret might have been intimidated, but she had steeled herself for this confrontation, pacing up and down outside the diner for several minutes after seeing Regina enter. Some things, she had told herself, were more important than her own sense of wellbeing. And in as much as she tried to avoid Regina Mills as often as possible, she certainly wasn’t afraid of a fight when the ends justified the means. If caring for Emma meant going into battle, then she would gladly don as much armor as she was able and draw a sword, however uncomfortable it felt in her hand.

“Well, it’s actually more about what I know,” Mary Margaret said, avoiding Regina’s gaze and drawing a circle on the table top with her forefinger. “About Emma and…and you,” she added in a quiet voice, almost lost amidst the clatter of dishes and rumble of conversation in the diner.

“Excuse me?” Regina stiffened, neck suddenly strained and tight.

Shaking her head, Mary Margaret let out a faint breath of laughter and met Regina’s gaze. If the Mayor was surprised at the determination in the schoolteacher’s eyes, she deigned not to show it. But it was there, nonetheless. And the mere fact of feeling it appeared to boost Mary Margaret’s confidence.

“I’m not stupid or as naïve as you appear to think I am,” Mary Margaret continued. “And Emma lives with me. We’re friends.”

“I’m sure you are, dear. But whatever she’s chosen to share with you during your sleepovers or whatever it is you have, I — ”

“Don’t patronize me.”

Regina stopped, eyes narrowing slightly. Perhaps she had underestimated the shy nature of the schoolteacher she had fashioned. Perhaps, indeed, the remnants of Snow White, hidden so far beneath the surface as to be almost non–existent, were being rediscovered.

Something else to irritate her. But it was accompanied by a pang of dread and Regina knew that Emma’s presence in town hadn’t only affected her. It was bleeding out like an open wound and infecting everyone else, too. Her lips formed a hard line as she stared at the woman opposite her, giving nothing away.

“Emma is my friend. I care about her. I don’t want to see her hurt.” The statements came in short, staccato sentences and Mary Margaret tapped the table with her finger to accentuate each one.

“I have no intention of hurting her, whatever you may think of me,” Regina said smoothly. Denial, after all, was one of her greatest talents.

Mary Margaret let out a mirthless laugh and rolled her eyes. “Oh, I wish I believed that, Madame Mayor,” she said slowly. “But if by playing with her emotions you think that’s a way to humiliate her in the end, I’m afraid that there are a great many people in this town who won’t thank you for it. Emma is liked, you know, even after such a short time of being here. Imagine how well–liked she’s going to be the longer she stays.”

“Your concern for Miss Swan is really quite touching,” Regina’s voice was soaked in a sarcasm that wasn’t lost on the schoolteacher. “But let me assure you, even if her private life is open for discussion and dissemination, mine isn’t. And I’d appreciate a little respect for my privacy.”

“But it’s not just about you, is it?” Mary Margaret persisted. “It’s about Emma, who is just trying to establish a relationship with her son.” She noticed how Regina flinched at the mention of Henry and it urged her on, giving her a strength she didn’t know she possessed.

“And what about Henry?” she asked. “How do you think he would feel about you sleeping with his mother?”

“I’m his mother!” Regina hissed, leaning across the table and laying her hand, palm flat, onto the surface. Her lips curled back from her teeth and for a moment, she looked for all the world like a feral animal, ready to pounce.

But Mary Margaret was undeterred and merely blinked under the heat of Regina’s gaze.

“Then you might want to think about what you’re doing,” she whispered. “Not just to Emma, not even to Henry, but to yourself. If this is all just a game to you, you might want to be sure that you’re not on the losing side, Regina.”

The Mayor bristled at the sound of her own name. But she was wise enough to remain silent, fearful enough to stem the tirade that sprang so easily to her lips.

Mary Margaret stared at her for a moment, a strange expression entering her eyes as though she suddenly recognized all the things she’d ignored about Regina, all the things she’d dismissed and chosen not to contemplate. Then, nodding to herself, she rose from the chair and offered the Mayor a polite smile.

“She’s not afraid of you, you know.” The words floated down to Regina’s ears, almost snatched away by the noise around them. “You might be able to put the fear of god knows what into everyone else in this town.” Now Mary Margaret’s voice trembled as she accepted that she, too, fell into the cohort of people who were cowed by Regina’s ominous presence in Storybrooke. But she drew herself up and gazed down at the Mayor with something akin to defiance.

“But Emma’s not afraid of you. So please, Madame Mayor, don’t use that against her and ruin her just to placate yourself. She doesn’t deserve that. And I would appeal to your better nature, if I thought you had one. But she’s not scared of you.”

It was a long time before Regina reached for her coffee cup again. And, by the time that she did, the liquid inside it was as cold as the chill that crept down her back. A chill of abject fear and loathing. None of it was for anyone but herself.

“Graham!” Regina marched purposefully into the Sheriff’s office and looked around wildly. “Graham, where are you?”

Emma swiveled around in her chair, a Danish pastry halfway to her mouth. “He’s not here,” she said, as Regina stopped short in the center of the room and stared at her.

“He had to go answer a call,” Emma said somewhat laconically, waving the pastry in the air. “Leroy’s been drinking again.”

Shrugging, she leaned back in her seat and looked curiously at the pastry, deciding against it and replacing it into the box on her desk. “You know,” she said, almost to herself, “have you ever noticed how grumpy Leroy is? Like, all the time? That guy needs a serious attitude adjustment.”

“Fascinating.” Regina’s voice was stentorian, brittle around the edges.

A wry smile pulled at Emma’s mouth and she wiped at her sticky fingers with a napkin before throwing it onto the desk’s surface.

“Can I take a message?” she glanced at Regina politely. “I’m sure he won’t be long.”

The Mayor moved forwards now, making her way over towards Emma and halting at the corner of the desk. She tugged briefly at her jacket, sliding a few fingers into the pocket with a practiced style and grace.

“Yes, you can take a message,” Regina nodded. “But this one is for you.”

Drawing her hand from her pocket, she planted it onto the desk and leaned down so that her face was close to Emma’s.

“Miss Blanchard came to see me this morning,” Regina said in a low tone, barely disguising her growing anger. “And I really don’t appreciate your desire to share sordid details with her of — ”

“Now hold on a minute!” Emma sat up in her seat, chin jutting towards Regina’s face. “Sordid details?”

“She seemed to know far more about what transpires between you and I than someone who isn’t you or me should do,” Regina growled.

“She’s my friend, Regina,” Emma said, glaring at the other woman. “I wanted to talk to her because I needed to figure things out. I’m not a robot like you,” she added, and Regina balked a little, eyelids flickering slightly.

“That’s what people do, you see,” Emma continued, warming to her subject and rather enjoying how Regina seemed to grow increasingly uncomfortable the more she talked. “They talk to their friends about things that trouble them. But why would you even know that? I mean, do you even have any friends that you share anything with? At all?”

Regina swallowed, her back teeth grinding against one another, but she was woefully silent, eyes fixated on Emma’s face.

“Right,” Emma nodded, satisfied with her conclusion. “I thought as much. And you know what the worst thing is, Regina? You’re making Henry as lonely and friendless as you are because you think that’s the only way to survive in the world, by keeping people as far away as you possibly can so that you don’t have to feel anything for them.”

Regina’s eyebrows rose and she blinked at Emma, just once. Then, straightening up, she stared down at the Deputy with all the pomposity she could gather.

“Advice on friendship, Deputy? Really?” Regina let out a hard laugh and rolled her eyes, grabbing at her jacket and pulling it more firmly around her shoulders. “From you?”

Snorting disdainfully, the Mayor shook her head. “I know that it’s obviously a new thing for you, as you never stay anywhere long enough to actually make any friends, but don’t let the novelty carry you away. Mary Margaret Blanchard is a trusting fool and she may have been taken in by your duplicity, but I certainly haven’t.”

“Duplicity?” Emma echoed, eyes as wide open as her mouth. Her ire dissipated as she tracked Regina’s features with her gaze. The woman believed that she was being tricked — absolutely and without any doubt whatsoever. Normally, Emma would put that sort of behavior down to extreme paranoia and for someone like Regina Mills, it wouldn’t have been a completely false diagnosis.

But there was something else in Regina’s eyes. Fear. The belief that Emma was going to hurt her in whatever way she could. It glistened in Regina’s gaze and sparked a note of pity in the Deputy’s chest. Pity, and the growing, nameless feeling that she’d tried to ignore no matter how keenly drawn she was to the other woman.

“Regina,” Emma said slowly, “I’ve never lied to you. God knows I could’ve done, but I haven’t.”

The Mayor’s face was impassive, but Emma could see a pulse ticking wildly in Regina’s neck and spied a faint flush over her cheeks. Anger was such an easy emotion for Regina to access; she wielded it like her favorite weapon and swung it in wide circles to keep others at bay lest it should cut them down. But it was only for self–protection and Emma saw it more clearly now than she’d ever done before. Because, behind the posturing and barbs that Regina threw out with abandon, Emma could see that the Mayor was struggling with all of this just as much as she was.

“And yet your indiscretion has betrayed me all the same,” Regina told her in a thickened voice. “Did you have fun telling our innocent schoolteacher about all the games we’ve played in bed together?”

“Jesus, Regina, no!” Emma shot to her feet and reached out, grabbing the Mayor’s wrist. “Whoever you think I am, you’re wrong. Absolutely wrong.”

“Am I?” Regina snatched her arm away from Emma’s grasp and took a couple of steps backwards. “I think I know exactly who and what you are, Miss Swan.”

“And that’s what scares you, doesn’t it?”

Regina’s head jerked back on her neck and she snorted out a dismissive laugh. “I’m not scared of you, dear, no matter what tall tales my son has been telling you. You might like to think of yourself as the conquering hero in this town, but there’s no curse to break, no spell that has been cast.” Recovering some of her poise, the Mayor even smiled indulgently.

“Besides, who on earth could frighten the Evil Queen?” It was said with humor, perhaps even sarcasm. But Regina’s eyes glimmered with the hurt that she felt when seeing herself through Henry’s eyes. Perhaps, through Emma’s, too.

“Regina…” Emma sighed. She glanced down at the floor and, by the time her gaze returned to the Mayor’s face, the shade of vulnerability she’d seen in Regina’s eyes had disappeared, replaced by something that was hard and impenetrable. It pained her to see it. Even if Regina’s pleasure was in making Storybrooke suffer, it often seemed that the only person experiencing real anguish was the Mayor herself.

“Please, dear,” Regina waved her hand in the air and shook her head. “I know that Henry is under the delusion that you can free us all from some dreadful curse the town is under. A curse enacted by my hand, no less. But don’t you think that if all I wanted was a happy ending, I would have created a better one than this? A scenario in which my private life is held up for ridicule to that doe–eyed, foolish schoolteacher by an interloper who wants to steal my son away from me!”

Emma winced at the bitterness in Regina’s tone; the desperate timbre of it moving her forwards involuntarily until she was much closer to the Mayor than she had intended. Her hand reached out again, this time closing over Regina’s shoulder, fingers pressing lightly. It was a strange feeling, she thought absently: the desire to quell fears that the other woman refused to submit to. To reach past the hard exterior and see what lay beneath, even if it was smothered in darkness and regret.

“I haven’t and I won’t,” she breathed, as Regina trembled slightly under her touch, but didn’t move away. “I don’t want to…I don’t want to do any of that.”

“Then why must you persist in constantly testing my patience?” the Mayor whispered, but it was a faint protest and one that lacked any real conviction.

“I…” Emma started, and then shrugged, her thumb brushing past Regina’s collar to touch the other woman’s neck. “I don’t know,” she admitted, almost under her breath. Because, despite long conversations with Mary Margaret and the thoughts that she’d wrestled with daily, she honestly didn’t. She only knew that something was pulling her towards Regina with an unwaveringly strong impulse. And until it was sated, it always would.

“I don’t like you, Miss Swan,” Regina said, as Emma’s thumb lingered in the hollow just underneath her jaw. “I find you presumptuous and interfering and a bad influence.”

“I know,” Emma half–smiled. “And you’re horribly overbearing and kinda mean. Especially about my friends. I’m not your biggest fan either. Not a fan at all, in fact.”

“Good,” Regina nodded, as the Deputy shifted even closer to her so their bodies were almost flush against one another. “Just so we’re absolutely clear on that.”

“Yeah,” Emma murmured. “We’re clear.”

She felt Regina’s fingers press coldly against the back of her neck seconds before their lips pressed together. It was a different kind of kiss, Emma thought. It was softer than before, more filled with a desperate need than the lust that had characterized their previous kisses. And it didn’t tear through Emma and imbue her with the same kind of want she’d experienced before, either. Instead, it seemed to fall into the depths of her, echoing in the empty spaces she’d tried to fill with her work, with moving on, with denying herself the indulgence of care.

It was only when Regina broke away that Emma realized she was a little dizzy, lifting a hand to pass it over her forehead, half–expecting to find it clammy as though she was suffering from a sickness. Looking at Regina, Emma wondered if perhaps she was, because this wasn’t right. It couldn’t ever be right, could it? To feel tenderness for someone she could so easily hate with everything in her?

Stumbling backwards, Emma dropped into her chair, thankful for its sturdy, comforting recesses. She barely glanced at Regina when the Mayor pulled at her jacket once more and steadied herself against the desk.

“So,” Emma said, clearing her throat and shuffling the papers on her desk in an appearance of nonchalance, “I’ll tell Graham you stopped by.”

Regina laughed, shaking her head, composure regained — thankfully — once more.

“Really, dear,” she said in a silken, almost mocking tone, “you’re not stupid so don’t do us both the disservice of pretending that you are. I didn’t come here to see Graham and you know that very well.”

Emma hid the smile that sprang to her lips, turning away from Regina and finding something inherently fascinating on the other side of her desk. “Okay,” she nodded. “So you came here to shout at me because you’re insecure? I get it.”

Regina let out a noise of intense irritation which only widened the smile on Emma’s lips and she stifled a laugh as the Mayor moved impatiently behind her.

“Grow up,” Regina snapped. “You might run your life like a teenager but I certainly don’t.”

“Right,” Emma swung around in her chair and fixed Regina with a hard gaze. “Thanks for that. Look,” she said a little more agreeably, “what the hell do you want me to do? Because this isn’t working for either of us.”

The silent plea in her eyes wasn’t lost on Regina and the Mayor capitulated to it as much as she was able. Taking a short breath and ignoring the flare of warning in her head, she nodded curtly.

“Henry and I have been invited for dinner at the Nolan’s house,” she said bluntly. “I want you to come too.”

“You want to be seen in public with me? Madame Mayor, I don’t know what to say,” Emma remarked drolly, rather pleased at the cloud of annoyance she saw pass over Regina’s features.

“For as long as you’re in my town and around my son, I’m prepared to make some exceptions,” Regina answered, shaking her head at the blonde. “Besides, Henry would like it.”

Emma pursed her lips thoughtfully for a second, knowing the answer she would give but wanting to make Regina wait painfully for it. It occurred to her that she would probably always feel the need to torture the other woman. That maybe she was the only person in Storybrooke who could.

“Okay,” she nodded. “I’d love to.”

Part 11

Kathryn glanced towards the kitchen as three loud voices rose in glee, accompanied by the sound of something sizzling in a pan. Looking back to the couch, she rolled her eyes good–naturedly and handed Regina a large glass of red wine.

“I haven’t heard him this happy in a long time,” she commented, sitting beside the Mayor and sipping at the rich, velvety liquid. “Although it does sound like he’s trying to burn the house down,” she added sardonically. But the smile on her lips was genuine, almost grateful for the picture of domesticated normality that it represented.

“I’m so glad for you both,” the Mayor said, glancing towards the kitchen. From inside the room, Henry’s voice lifted in delight, descending into laughter along with Emma.

Regina hadn’t heard Henry this happy in a long time, either. The fact that he was sharing it with Emma, not herself, burned a little in her throat, acidic like the wine in her glass. She stared down at it for a moment, swirling the liquid around and trying to quell the instinctual urge to hate that rose in her chest.

When she looked back up at Kathryn, there was a smile on her lips once more. “Thank you, Kathryn,” she said. “For allowing me to bring Miss Swan.” She inclined her head towards the other woman, who waved her hand in the air and let out a tiny sound of acknowledgement.

“The more the merrier,” she said obligingly, glancing towards the kitchen again. “Although, I must admit I was a little surprised when you suggested it. I think you’re much more forgiving than I would be, given the situation.”

Regina frowned slightly, leaning back on the couch, following Kathryn’s gaze. David, Emma and Henry did seem to be having fun and the smell drifting from the kitchen was rather appetizing, even if she did have qualms about the homemaking skills of any of the room’s occupants. But it was all horribly normal, she thought to herself. Like she and Emma weren’t at loggerheads, like her son didn’t hate her. Almost like the happy ending she’d envisaged for herself.

Turning back to Kathryn, her eyebrows rose questioningly and she shook her head. “Forgiving?” she asked. “How so?”

Kathryn sighed sympathetically. “It can’t be easy, having Henry’s birth mother in town. I’m afraid I’d be trying to get her to leave as soon as possible.” She screwed up her features self–consciously and shrugged. “Does that make me a terrible person?” she asked in a near–whisper.

Regina smiled again and reached out, putting a comforting hand onto Kathryn’s arm. “Of course not,” she said benevolently. “And I can’t say that having her around is the ideal situation.” Her lips pursed in dissatisfaction for a moment and she lifted her wine glass, taking a considered sip.

“But Henry wants to know her and I thought I should at least offer him the opportunity to do so for as long as she decides to stay. Which,” she lowered her voice, “I doubt will be very long.”

“You think she’ll leave?” Kathryn leaned forwards, eyes narrowing.

Regina drew a breath. “Emma Swan has a habit of never staying anywhere very long,” she told the other woman. “I tried to tell Henry that, but he’s somewhat adamant when it comes to the subject of his birth mother. And you know what children are like once they get an idea into their head. I’m afraid that he may end up learning this lesson the hard way.”

“Poor Henry,” Kathryn murmured, looking towards the kitchen again. “Being disappointed by someone you love is…”

She glanced down at the glass of wine in her hand and clamped her lips together, trying to shake off the obvious cloud of emotion that descended over her.

“It’s devastating,” Regina said in a flat tone. When Kathryn lifted her head, they looked at one another in tacit understanding. And the Mayor was suddenly aware of the wicked temptations of friendship; of caring about someone else’s feelings and the simple seduction of making a connection with another person. It unnerved her as much as it delighted her; she hadn’t thought herself capable of it.

Only with Henry. But then, Henry was different to everyone else in Storybrooke. Regina had created them, given them their lives. But his life had been created by someone else entirely. The one person that Regina found herself drawn to in a terribly conflicting tempest of emotions. And she resented Emma for it, dreadfully so. Because now she was beginning to care about Kathryn, too. Her friend, who was eyeing the doorway to the kitchen with a strange sadness in her eyes.

“Kathryn,” Regina said, “David chose you. He’s here, with you. And I will do everything I can to make sure he stays.” She punctuated her words with a firm little nod and was somewhat relieved to see a watery smile spread across the other woman’s mouth.

Kathryn let out an embarrassed little laugh. “You’ve been so good to us,” she said softly. “I really don’t know why. But I’m so glad to have you as my friend, Regina.”

Regina smiled, but looked away for fear the other woman should see the emotion in her gaze. Feeling it was one thing; showing it, quite another. But she stored the feeling away, nonetheless, intending to return to it later when she was alone. It had been so long, after all, since anyone had shown her genuine affection without her having to rip it out of them along with their heart.

“Okay,” David poked his head out from the kitchen, his face flushed and delighted. “Who’s ready for dinner?”

“And then Emma saved both me and Dr Hopper from the mine,” Henry finished recounting his tale with a flourish of his fork, from which a piece of potato fell back onto his plate with a loud plop. Ignoring it, his gaze swept around the table, eyes bright and excited. “She was like an action hero or something!” he added.

Both David and Kathryn burst out laughing and looked at Emma, who rolled her eyes and leaned over to Henry, sitting beside her.

“Seriously, kid,” she said in a stage whisper, “I’m sitting right here. Dial it down a notch will ya?” But she winked at Henry and he beamed back at her with shining eyes.

“So there are tunnels underneath Storybrooke?” David leaned forwards, cocking his head towards Regina, who sat on Henry’s other side and had remained stoically silent during her son’s retelling of his rescue. Now she looked at David and nodded.

“Storybrooke was once a mining town, or so I believe,” she said. “But they’ve been disused for years and are obviously dangerous,” she glanced sideways at Henry and her lips twitched in reprove.

“I don’t think we’ll be needing any more rescue attempts, will we?”

Henry sighed a little, pushing food around his plate and hunched his shoulders. He glanced up at Regina and she lifted her eyebrows, giving him a stern look.

“No…” he said begrudgingly.

“Better not,” Emma interjected, looking around the table. “I was aching for days after wearing that harness. Nobody told me that being a hero was going to hurt so much.”

Laughter ensued; even Regina managed to give a tight smile. She remembered only too well the overwhelming sense of relief and gratitude as she saw her son emerge from that hole in the ground by the mine. She also remembered the sliver of glass she’d thrown back down the mine shaft.

Some things were best kept hidden.

In fact, she had told herself, everything that related to the other world should be razed to the ground and covered in salt so that nothing could ever be found again.

“The council is proposing a building project on the site,” she said, reaching for her wine glass.

“What sort of building?” Kathryn asked.

Regina shrugged a little. “Perhaps a strip mall,” she suggested. “Offices, shops, apartments. Storybrooke might be an old–fashioned town but it doesn’t mean we can’t move forwards, developmentally.” She smiled in her most gracious Mayoral manner and Kathryn bobbed her head up and down in agreement.

“But…no, you can’t,” Henry said, looking up at his mother with wide eyes.

Sipping at her wine, Regina swallowed before fixing him with a firm stare. “Henry, you know how dangerous it is. The best thing to do is to flatten the ground and build over it. We wouldn’t want any more accidents now, would we?”

“There’s something down there! I saw it!” he protested. His gaze fled around the table and he saw amused concern on David and Kathryn’s faces. “I saw something,” he repeated. “Something shiny.”

“Fools gold,” Regina said abruptly.

“It wasn’t…it was…Emma, you saw it too, right?” Henry turned to his only ally at the table and was horrified to see the dubious expression crossing her features as she gazed down at him.

“Kid, the only thing I saw was a really deep hole and you and Dr Hopper looking terrified,” she said gently. Then, at his stricken face, she slid a hand across the back of his chair and squeezed his shoulder. “Sorry,” she added softly, shrugging.

“But…” he began, and Regina touched him now, her fingers digging rather more firmly into his arm. She frowned at him and shook her head.

“Henry, David and Kathryn don’t want to hear about your tall tales tonight,” she said in a voice that brooked no dissent. Her eyes met his for a moment and in them, she saw with a pang of hurt all the anger he felt towards her, the distrust and suspicion that he harbored. It struck a note of panic, deep down in her soul and she responded to it with a tremulous, dismissive laugh.

“You were very brave, Henry,” she said in a softer tone. “But please, don’t ever go exploring on your own again.”

“I won’t,” he said sharply, twisting away from her touch. “Next time I’ll take Emma.”

Above his head, Regina and Emma’s eyes met. The Mayor’s gaze was resolute and Emma almost shuddered under the intensity of it. She wasn’t afraid of Regina. But in her eyes she could see all the dark threats that the Mayor had ever made; all the blackened acts she might ever carry out. And still Emma wanted her. Still she felt an inevitable urge to stay in Storybrooke, even though she’d tried many times to talk herself out of it. Usually after one drink too many and a fight with Regina.

But she could see the pleading in Regina’s eyes now and she nodded, feeling a sudden desire to make that desperate expression go away. If she was even capable of such a thing.

“Tell you what, kid,” Emma said, grinning down at Henry, “instead of scaring your mom half to death by going down a mine again, what if I let you come on patrol with me one day? I’ll let you play with the siren.” She leaned down and nudged him with her shoulder even as his bottom lip pushed out petulantly.

“Never mind Henry,” David chirped up from across the table. “How about you take me on patrol?”

At the alarmed expression his wife shot at him, David grinned widely and shrugged helplessly, looking more like a cheeky little boy than Henry did, sullen and withdrawn across the table from him.

“I’ve always wanted to play the hero,” David explained, drawing an indulgent smile from Kathryn and an amused grin from Emma. “Maybe I can learn from the best,” he nodded to Emma. “Seeing as you saved my life and all. That pretty much makes you a hero in my book.”

“See?” Henry hissed, glaring up at Emma.

“I think Miss Swan is fast becoming everyone’s savor,” Regina commented.

Emma looked at her sideways, unsure whether she was being sarcastic or not. She’d come to expect it so often that now, as she watched the Mayor lift her glass, she found herself quite taken unawares by the seemingly sincere toast that Regina was offering.

But Kathryn and David were already joining in, tilting their glasses towards her and giving her genuine, open–hearted smiles. Even Henry lifted his glass of soda and bumped it against her wine glass with a broad, toothy grin.

Emma shifted uncomfortably. Being lauded and singled out for congratulation still sat uneasily on her shoulders. Whether she was deserving of it or not, she wasn’t sure. Since coming to Storybrooke, things had just seemed to unfold the way that they had; her own part in them was still incidental in her own mind. But Henry thought she was a hero and clung to his beliefs as though they were all that he had.

Catching sight of Regina over the top of Henry’s tousled brown hair, Emma almost shuddered at the way the Mayor was looking at her. Regina’s eyes were like a stormy sea, dangers lurking beneath the surface that enticed and enthralled her as much as they provided warning.

Henry might think that she was a hero. But Regina…she seemed to think Emma was something else altogether.

Emma returned the tight smile that the Mayor gave her and nodded her head imperceptibly. Until she found out precisely what Regina had planned for her, she would abide by the détente. And, until then, she would accept the mantle of hero that Henry had given her and wear it with pride. Because the curious, guarded expression on Regina’s face right now was more than recompense.

Emma stood awkwardly in the hallway of Regina’s house as the Mayor walked down the stairs and let out a satisfied, if slightly relieved sigh.

“Is he asleep?” she asked, as Regina stalked past her and into the study where a fire was already warming the room. Emma followed her, unsure as to whether she was invited or not. Hovering in the doorway, she watched as Regina poured two measured glasses of whiskey, lifting one and holding it out to her.

Taking it, Emma watched as Regina kicked off her shoes and settled into one of the huge armchairs by the fire. Slowly, the blonde moved forwards, eyes tracing over the form of the other woman. Regina had an effortless style, exuded in the simplistic yet impossibly expensive lines of the black dress she had selected for dinner. Even now, in repose, there was an almost regal manner to the curve of Regina’s limbs and the delicate way in which lifted the heavy crystal glass to her lips.

She was beautiful. Utterly comfortable in her own skin and confident with a sleek, feline manner that Emma found irresistible. Flopping down onto the armchair opposite Regina’s, Emma wished she felt jealous because that at least would give some credence to the gnawing sensation in her stomach. She sipped at the whiskey, grateful for the hot line it tracked down her throat and into her chest.

“He wanted you to read him a story,” Regina commented, placing the glass onto a side table by the chair.

“Yeah?” Emma avoided the other woman’s gaze. She knew what she’d find there: envy and hurt and the inability to understand how ten years of care could be so easily pushed aside. “I kinda think Henry’s had enough stories for now, don’t you?”

Regina hummed in response. Her eyes glittered in the firelight as she gazed into the heart of the flames. Her son had been insistent on seeing Emma before he went to sleep, practically begging Regina to allow the woman up to his room. A part of her had wanted to capitulate to his demands, if only to put a smile on his face. Regina was so desperate for her son to look at her the way he looked at Emma that sometimes she felt she might have torn this world apart in order to make that happen. She’d already done it before to claw some sort of happiness out of her life. And her need for Henry’s love was so great, she wondered if she wouldn’t do it again, given half the chance.

But the greater part of her, the proud, unrelenting part of her refused to submit. The last time she allowed love to dictate her actions, she had almost been ripped apart by it. And as much as she loved her son and wanted it returned without condition, she was simply too afraid to become consumed by that desire again.

Glancing across to where Emma sat, Regina frowned and shifted, tucking her legs beneath her on the huge armchair. Fear was a great motivator. Fear and hatred. Because if she were to allow herself the indulgence of vulnerability, then what else might she become prey to?

“You don’t really believe in Henry’s stories, do you?”

Emma’s eyebrows rose and she took another, pensive sip of her whiskey, allowing the liquid to bathe her tongue for a long moment.

“I think he believes in them. And I think he needs someone to believe in him.”

“I see.” Regina nodded and looked back to the fire again.

“Regina,” Emma leaned forwards in her chair, resting her elbows onto her knees. “I don’t want to take Henry away from you.”

The Mayor said nothing, but her shoulders hitched with a silent, mirthless laugh and her lips twisted into a pained expression. The reflection of the fire played in her eyes and Emma frowned. From where she was sitting, it almost looked as though Regina had tears in her eyes. Whether real or imagined, the sight of them shot a lurching sensation through Emma’s chest and she took a breath.

“He’s got it into his head that I’m some kind of hero, here to break the curse of Storybrooke,” she said gently.

“And that I’m the Evil Queen,” Regina said in a shaking voice. She clamped her lips together and refused to look at Emma. Truth had always been such a pliable component in her other life, used and abused to her own ends. To be faced with it now from the mouth of her child seemed almost depraved. And she felt violated by its revelation, not because it was true, but because Henry saw it so clearly in everything she was.

“You know as well as I do that fairytales never tell us the whole story,” Emma tilted her head to one side and half–smiled as Regina’s gaze finally met her own, wide eyed with alarm.

“I grew up in the foster system and learned that good and evil are pretty useless concepts to a kid that nobody wants,” she admitted. “But you wanted Henry when I…”

She stopped, reaching for her drink and taking a much bigger mouthful than she’d intended, swallowing it with a slight grimace.

“When you didn’t,” Regina finished, and Emma nodded abruptly.

“He’s ten, Regina. Of course he’s going to blame you for all the evils he sees in his world. Because you’re the center of it.”

Across from her, Regina’s eyelids flickered, her gaze glassy and unreadable. She stared at Emma for a long moment, the silence between them filled only with the crackling of the fire in the grate.

Emma felt caught in Regina’s gaze. Something shifted between them, the air growing thick and portentous. She might have experienced discomfort if she hadn’t felt a sudden rush of adrenaline through her veins. At the back of her mind, she blamed it on the alcohol, on the subject matter, on the lateness of the hour…on anything other than the way Regina was looking at her now with eyes of such inviting darkness that Emma wanted nothing more than to fall into them and lose herself entirely.

It occurred to her that, should she step off the precipice and fall, there was no safety rope to stop her crashing once she hit the bottom.

“If you hurt him, Miss Swan,” Regina spoke, but her voice was little more than a murmur, a note of intent, “I will break you.”

She lifted her chin: a challenge, a threat, a promise.

It stuck in Emma’s craw and she felt herself reacting to the glint of malicious determination that she spied in Regina’s eyes. Planting her glass of whiskey firmly onto the table beside the chair, she rose to her feet. Pursing her lips, she tugged at her jacket and shook her head.

“The kid’s already hurt, Regina,” she said shortly. “Any idiot can see that. You know, if they can get over themselves enough to look.”

She was annoyed, irritation tensing her shoulders as she glared at Regina across the room. Looking down at her watch, she let out a huffing sigh. “It’s late. I should go.”

“No…wait…”

Regina uncurled her legs and got to her feet, taking a few short steps across the distance between them and almost putting out her hand to touch Emma. Then she thought better of it and closed her hand into a fist, clenching it down by her side and gathering herself.

“I don’t know…Henry, I mean. I don’t know how to help him. What I did wrong.” The words emerged under duress and Regina caught her breath after they had fallen from her lips, looking at Emma with a flush of shame across the tops of her cheeks.

“I don’t want to be his Evil Queen,” she added in a whisper, her voice breaking. “Not…not to Henry.”

Emma was unused to feeling pity. And it was something she had never expected to feel for Regina Mills. Everything inside her head that she had seen and heard and stored away to build up a profile of the woman roared in her brain even as she felt empathy surge through her. What was it that fairytales always warned of? That the blackest hearts were the ones that hid behind smiles and platitudes like the ones Regina threw around so easily?

But Regina wasn’t smiling now. In fact, the features that were always so hardened against Emma had softened into anguish. Into real, visceral, emotion.

It might have been the moment Emma was waiting for, even without knowing it. It might have been the moment she had been dreading all along. But in this moment; in the seconds that wrapped around them as warmly as the heat from the fire, Emma decided to seize it.

“Regina,” she whispered, sliding her arms around the other woman and drawing her close. This time there was no resistance, no stiffening of limbs or the casual sensuality that Regina so often displayed. This time there was only a body against Emma’s own.

And this time, when Emma kissed her, Regina let her. She succumbed to it with a faint moan against Emma’s mouth, and hands that slid underneath the blonde’s jacket and clutched at her quite desperately.

Drawing back, Emma realized that her hand was in Regina’s hair, fingertips beating a tattoo against her scalp. Her heart was beating unnecessarily loudly in her ears and, for a moment, she fought the urge to run. It was, after all, her first response to this; to this woman and the tendrils of indefinable feeling that she wrapped around Emma as easily as she did her arms.

“Do you want me to go?” she asked breathlessly, searching Regina’s face for deception, for the malicious intent she had seen there so often before.

“No.”

“Then what do you want me to do? What should I…what should I do?”

Regina’s fingers twitched against Emma’s shirt, moving underneath her jacket and inching down towards where the shirt had been shoved into Emma’s pants.

“Close the door,” Regina murmured. “Close the door and stay with me.”

Part 12

Regina padded across the polished wooden floor of her home cradling a steaming cup of fresh coffee in her hands to feel its warmth. Her silk robe fell like a shroud over her limbs, swinging gently around her bare ankles and, for a moment, she simply breathed in the peace and quiet of her sanctuary as she made her way from the kitchen into the huge hallway of her house.

Henry was still asleep. Worn out from last night, most likely. For all his protestations, the boy was still only ten and tired easily. Probably from the machinations and high speed of his own mind, Regina thought wryly. He was such a smart little boy and although that made her inherently proud, it also gave her cause for concern. A mind like his, with his childish innocence and unyielding belief in the fairytales he’d read in that damned book could ruin everything for her. It had already started to, ever since Emma Swan had come to Storybrooke.

And since then, everything had cascaded into a torrent quite beyond her control.

She paused by the doorway to her study, lifting the coffee cup to her lips and staring inside the room. The fire had long burned down in the grate and there was a faint chill in the air as she lingered in the doorway. Regina shivered. But it was memory, not the cool atmosphere that trickled down her back.

Emma shut the door and returned to where Regina stood in front of the fire. There was a different expression on the Mayor’s face now; a strained, pensive tugging at her features and apprehension that flitted through her eyes in shades of brown and black.

Without saying a word, Emma reached around behind the other woman and slid the zipper of her dress down in one long, fluid motion. Then she pushed the garment from Regina’s shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, pooling around Regina’s ankles.

Shrugging off her leather jacket, Emma cast it behind her with a glance. It only half fell onto the armchair, sliding to hang onto the floor. Untidy. Regina would hate that. Emma couldn’t help smirking to herself. But then, Regina hated so many things about these sorts of situations that sometimes Emma wondered why she was here at all.

She turned back to the other woman and was caught off–guard for a moment, seeing in Regina’s face all the fear that suddenly flourished in her own chest.

This was why she was here. Why she would continue to return to this place and this moment. Because it wasn’t just about sex and both of them knew it as their eyes met, held. Expectation billowed between them, filling the air and rushing through their ears like the onset of a winter storm.

No; this wasn’t just about sex. And maybe it never had been.

Regina’s hands trembled and she grabbed at her cup, placing her palms around it again. Entering the study, she walked towards the chair that Emma had occupied the previous night and sat down in it. Drawing her legs up underneath her, she fixed the chair opposite with what was intended to be a firm, stentorian gaze.

If she could deny what happened last night, then maybe she could erase it completely. Maybe she could stamp out the weaknesses that had cracked her veneer and opened her up to vulnerability. It was such a terrible curse to feel that way, she thought to herself with a grimace. To feel the one thing that she absolutely could not let herself feel. Just as thoughts became actions, Regina knew that the intensity of feelings could manifest as real in her heart.

And if anyone knew about terrible curses, it was surely her. But she was slowly realizing that not only had she cursed her kingdom and everyone in it, but also her own damned existence in this realm, too.

Hatred burst like a thundercloud and made her heart beat just a little bit faster. A little bit harder. Her head began to pound and she wondered for a fleeting moment if what was falling apart had already done so, lying in broken rubble all around her.

It wasn’t love that was a weakness, after all. It was her own ability to feel it that had ruined her.

Emma was on her knees, fingers curled around Regina’s thighs, mouth pressed against the taut stomach in front of her. She laid kiss after burning kiss onto smooth skin and felt the other woman sway against her, breathing labored and harsh. Regina’s hands gripped at her shoulders for support to steady the quivering in her legs that was working its way throughout her whole body.

It wasn’t long before Emma was scrabbling at Regina’s underwear, fingernails scraping over hipbones as she tugged at it. Above her, Regina made a faint sound of protest and her hands slid into Emma’s hair, fisting it and pulling hard enough to make the blonde wince.

But Emma didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop. Not until Regina’s underwear lay on the floor and she could wrap her fingers around the other woman’s wrists.

Regina didn’t want to hurt Emma — at least, not in the ways she had done before. Their previous lovemaking had always been somewhat adversarial and both women found they enjoyed that part of the game more than anticipated. But as Emma turned a soulful gaze upon her, Regina shook her head helplessly. Submission was never a welcome bedfellow. She’d had to fight for so long to get the things she wanted, anyway, that it had been relegated to the realms of inadequacy.

But as her fingers let go of Emma’s hair and she allowed the other woman to push her back onto the armchair, Regina felt an almost euphoric rush of letting go; of falling into the terrifying abyss and not caring if she survived the descent. Her half–naked body hit the chair and she let out a breath as Emma loomed up over her, blonde hair whispering over her thighs as hands moved confidently across her skin.

She closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at her own devastation. It would be too much.

Regina blinked, startling herself as she heard the taunting echoes of her own sighs inside her head. Her hands were trembling again even around the sturdy shape of the coffee cup, and she placed it onto the side table before wrapping her arms around her body. Her hands clenched into fists; she shivered again, bunching into a small shape, almost lost in the vastness of the chair.

Sometimes…just sometimes, she wished she could disappear. And then none of this would have ever happened.

Bucking her hips under Emma’s mouth, Regina’s fingers clawed at the arms of the chair and dug into the rich leather. One leg had been unceremoniously thrown over the side of the chair, the other stretched out underneath Emma’s body. As she felt Emma’s tongue lathe a long, slow line of heat up and into her, Regina let out a guttural moan and squeezed her eyes shut just that little bit tighter. But her heart would betray her, in the end, clattering inside her chest and resonating so loudly in her ears that she was sure Emma could hear it.

Emma’s tongue was inside her again, savoring her and tasting her and eliciting further groans from her throat. As she twisted and rose in the chair, Emma’s firm hands lay on her thighs and prevented her from moving. She was utterly open, completely undone and laid bare. The intensity of this terrified her; this feeling that rocketed through her and ripped into her chest. The last time she’d been so frightened had been in the days following her betrayal. And wasn’t this just another trick, designed to hurt her in the worst of ways?

Now she opened her eyes. Now she stared down at Emma. Now she had the strength to lay her hands onto the blonde’s shoulders and push with trembling resistance.

Emma lifted her head, a frown flurrying across her brow as she gazed up at Regina.

The Mayor shook her head, mouth open but no words falling from her lips to save her, no incantation strong enough to stop this. And Regina wanted to, so fervently and with such trepidation in her heart that all she could do was meet Emma’s eyes and shake her head again pleadingly.

Regina Mills was a woman who never begged. She demanded.

But in her other life, she had begged for mercy and been shown none. And it felt, for just a moment, as though everything since that time had never happened and she had returned to a younger incarnation of herself; a powerless woman fighting to protect the one thing she held most dear.

Emma blinked and tilted her head to one side, eyes narrowing as she tried to define what she saw in Regina’s face. There was no smile to hide behind now; no arrogant smugness written across those features. They held only pain and memories that burgeoned to the surface to leave a detritus of regret in dark eyes.

“Please,” Emma said gently. “Please, Regina. Let me."

There was something about her tone that struck a chord, echoing deep into Regina’s body. She responded to it, throat thickening with emotion and eyes glistening with tears that she had never allowed herself to shed.

“Please,” Emma said again, her fingers tracing lines down Regina’s thighs that made the other woman shudder and move towards. Because, if she was honest, then Regina wanted this as much as Emma did — more, in fact. She needed it. The warmth of human contact was easy to achieve. But the warmth she wanted for her heart had been denied too long.

And all Regina had to do was open up and let it in.

Teeth clutching at her lower lip, Regina nodded abruptly. A smile blossomed over Emma’s lips and she appeared incandescently beautiful in the firelight. Regina swallowed and let out a sigh as Emma’s mouth descended upon her once more. Yes; she thought to herself. She wasn’t the only desperate soul in Storybrooke. She wasn’t the only one who was lost and alone.

As Emma’s tongue swathed circles of sweltering fire inside her, Regina closed her eyes once more and leaned back into the chair. That winter storm became tropical, heavy and humid and moving towards boiling point. And as that tongue was joined by fingers and Regina began to feel the dizzying, tantalizing tendrils of desire lick at her chest, she knew that lost souls always found a way home eventually. It was the way the fairytale always ended, wasn’t it? What was lost always had to be found.

She’d just never expected anyone to search for her, let alone find her. Not again.

In the cold light of morning, Regina’s eyes stared blankly at the empty chair opposite her. She could still feel Emma’s hands on her skin; still feel the ripple of climax in her belly and thighs. It mocked her with its intensity and she uncurled her legs, rising from the chair unsteadily and shaking her head.

Maleficent had told her about the void of blackness that dark magic would leave in her heart; about the depths to which her soul might sink and become trapped in the mire of hatred and pain that Regina wanted the whole world to feel. And her friend had been right: Storybrooke was an idyllic dream that had swayed Regina with its duplicity.

But it wasn’t real.

If it was, then Emma Swan shouldn’t have been able to split it apart in the way that she had.

She shouldn’t have been able to split Regina apart, either.

Jaw hardening, Regina resolved to dispel all memories of the previous night. To continue with her plan and to return Storybrooke to the haven it had once represented. She didn’t much care if it was real or not; she just wanted to be happy again. And living a lie had given her the semblance of happiness, at least. That, she thought, picking up her coffee cup, would have to be enough. And it would be enough, whatever the cost.

She headed for the doorway and paused, turning to cast a disdainful glance around the room. There was no price she wouldn’t pay for her own happiness. And Henry’s.

Emma Swan didn’t fit into that scenario. She couldn’t. Because what Regina and her son felt for the woman was too pervasive and dangerous to be trusted. And it really was as simple as that, Regina nodded firmly, clasping her coffee cup to her chest.

“Mm,” Emma murmured, closing her eyes. “That feels so good."

Above her, Regina gave a slow, drawling chuckle and drew in a deep breath. “You’re far too easily pleased, Miss Swan."

She looked down at where Emma was sprawled out in front of the fire in a state of undress. Regina had crawled back into the armchair to what she considered a ‘safe’ distance from the other woman. Being near her, it seemed, only increased the possibility of more clothes being pulled from limbs and that, she had surmised, would never lead to any good.

A satisfied smile curved her lips and she pushed at her tousled hair. No good, as it turned out, was actually very good indeed. Of course, she’d never tell Emma that. Regina wasn’t sure she knew how, even if she’d wanted to.

“What?” Emma lifted herself up onto her elbows for a moment, squinting up at Regina. “I like a real fire. God knows I used to sit in front of fake ones often enough. You’re lucky, Regina."

“I make my own luck,” Regina responded, as Emma let out a huffing sigh and flopped back down onto the rug again. “I’ve found it’s really the only way to get things done."

“Oh yeah,” Emma mumbled, face buried in her arms, “because Madame Mayor is all about getting things done."

“You know, whenever you call me that you always say it with such disdain,” Regina commented.

Emma lifted her head again, concern pulling twin lines on her forehead. “I don’t…” she began, then shook her head. “Do you want me to stop?"

Regina let out a soft laugh and shook her head. “No,” she said. “You should use it all the time. It helps to keep you in your place."

As the blonde’s eyebrows rose and her mouth opened in abject protest, Regina laughed again and reached out with her leg, shoving a foot against Emma’s thigh. “And I will continue to call you Deputy Swan, just so we know who we are."

She was only half–joking, but Emma was too sated and too comfortable to argue, so she let it slide and merely glowered good–naturedly at the Mayor. This whole situation was unusual enough without adding any awkwardness to it. Although, the blonde rolled over lazily and allowed herself the luxury of gazing at Regina’s half–naked body, situations like this did tend to have their perks.

Regina observed the hungry look on Emma’s face with an almost arrogantly satisfied feeling and smiled again. “You’re staring, dear,” she said, one eyebrow arching.

“I’m being presumptuous,” Emma said drolly, echoing Regina’s words to her. She grinned in wicked glee as Regina’s mouth tightened slightly. “It’s one of the things you hate about me, remember?"

“I haven’t forgotten,” Regina said tersely, although there was a softness in her eyes that Emma stored away with not a little amount of glee.

“Still don’t like me, huh?” Emma asked with a smirk.

Regina shifted in the chair and offered Emma one of her most winning Mayoral smiles. “That would be correct, Deputy Swan,” she said in a low tone. “I still don’t like you."

“Good,” Emma responded, dropping her head back onto her arms once more. “Because I still don’t like you either."

The smile on Regina’s lips widened and became genuine as she stared down at the woman on the rug. And fear, ever–present, became a necessary casualty to other, warmer emotions that quite overtook her. And would continue to do so, should she let them.

Regina made herself a promise then, that she never would. Not even if in this moment, it was all she wanted.

The knocking at the front door brought Regina scurrying towards it with an irritated expression on her face and her coffee sloshing dangerously close to the lip of her cup. It was far too early for visitors. Far too early for her precious solitude to be disturbed. Grasping the handle, Regina swung the door open to find Emma Swan standing on the step, a tray in her hand.

“Hey!” Emma said brightly. “Good morning. I know it’s early but…I brought coffee and orange juice for Henry and I thought…”

Her voice trailed off as she saw the cup in Regina’s hand and a foolish grin parted her lips.

“Okay,” Emma shrugged. “You already have coffee.”

Regina said nothing, merely staring at Emma like the unwelcome interloper that she undoubtedly was. The Deputy shifted uncomfortably on the step and puffed out her cheeks, a long breath escaping her lips.

“So…maybe breakfast, then?” she suggested, lifting her eyebrows. Regina looked stony, bearing no remnants of the lazy warmth that she’d seen in the Mayor last night. Concern prickled at the back of Emma’s neck and she sighed a little, glancing down at the ground.

“Alright, not breakfast,” she muttered to herself, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. She might have expected this, anticipated it, even. But from the hard, flinty gaze of the other woman, Emma was delivered proof positive that what she’d seen last night was no longer relevant. That what they’d experienced together had been shoved to one side, perhaps even relegated to a one–time only affair.

But she remembered it vividly, and had done so since it happened. Driving over here, she had glanced in the rearview mirror and seen a ridiculous smile on her lips. Ridiculous enough to make her roll her eyes and shake her head in silent admonishment.

“No, Miss Swan.” When Regina finally spoke, her voice was a monotone, blunt and unrelentingly hard. “No breakfast. Not for you, anyway.”

“Can I at least come in?” Emma asked, taking a step forwards. But Regina’s hand returned to the edge of the door and she squared herself in the open space, standing tall.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?” the Mayor said politely. “Henry’s still asleep and I have a lot of work to do today. As, I’m sure, so do you.”

“Well…” Emma began, but Regina shook her head and smiled again, baring her teeth and appearing for all the world like the benevolent town leader that she purported to be.

“Deputy Swan,” she said calmly, too pleasantly for it to be real, “your intrusions on my personal life really have to stop. Henry is asleep and, as his mother, I don’t appreciate you wanting to barge into his bedroom the way you’ve barged into his life. If and when he wishes to see you, I’ll let you know. But until then, please don’t come to my house anymore.”

Emma let out a mirthless laugh and looked away, shaking her head. “You don’t even know that you’re doing it, do you?” she asked, returning to look at Regina with accusatory eyes.

“Doing what?” Regina blinked in feigned ignorance, that smile still fixed on her lips.

“Being you,” Emma barked, all attempts at cajoling Regina gone. “Every time I think we take one step forwards you just yank us right back again to square one.”

“Us?” Regina echoed. “Oh…there is no ‘us’, Miss Swan. You should probably lower your expectations on that score. Or abandon them altogether,” she added with a nod of her head.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Emma gasped, rearing back, eyes horrified. “I mean, seriously, what the fuck made you like this? You don’t care about anyone or anything, do you?”

Regina pressed her lips together. She’d seen the disgust in Emma’s gaze; the recognition of the monster that lurked beneath her skin, ugly and ruthless with no conscience to speak of. Good. Because now there was no need to pretend that the monster could be vanquished. She could let it rage like the abomination it was, fueled by malevolence and the empty, echoing chambers of her heart.

“I care very much about my son and my reputation,” Regina leaned forwards, her voice lowering to a snarl. “This isn’t some fairytale, Miss Swan. You can’t just insinuate yourself into Henry’s life and expect me to play happy families with you. The sooner you realize that and leave, the better it will be for all of us.”

“All of us? Or just you?” Emma’s chin darted forwards and she met Regina’s black gaze with her own unwaveringly defiant one. “I know you think you’ve got everyone in this town fooled; that they’re all your little pets on a leash, but I saw you last night, Regina. I saw who you really are.”

“Oh? And who is that? Because I’m all ears, Miss Swan. Please enlighten me with your particular brand of Psychology 101.” Regina’s features were vehemently set against Emma, but her voice trembled a tiny amount and she clamped her lips shut lest it should completely give her away.

“You might think that you can hide away in your ivory tower to stop anyone hurting you. You might even think that by keeping Henry locked up you can make him love you. But it’s not working, is it? And yeah,” Emma nodded, “maybe I don’t have a college education and maybe I don’t know the right words to say.”

She squared her shoulders and stood tall, pride lifting her chin. “But I know people, Regina. And, like it or not, I know you. I’ve taken down so many people who thought they were smarter, faster and stronger than me that it would make your head explode. So you just keep pushing if that’s the only way you can deal with this. But I’m telling you now, I’m gonna keep pushing back.”

They stared at one another. Regina’s eyes glittered, whether with anger or tears, Emma couldn’t tell. And as she tried to control her breathing and temper the fluttering in her chest, Emma knew that she meant every word she said.

She wasn’t sure if that helped.

“Seriously,” she said, swallowing and lowering her voice to a more manageable timbre, “come on, Regina. You think bad things never happened to anyone else? You think I didn’t spend most of my childhood wondering why nobody wanted me? Why nobody loved me? Why my parents just gave me away and left me on the side of the road like…like trash?”

And now emotion overtook her. She gritted her teeth against it but to no avail. Tears burned hot and bright, thickening her throat and her mouth twisted against them as she forced herself to meet Regina’s gaze.

The Mayor took a breath, holding it for a second and then letting it out slowly. For a hopeful, whirling moment, Emma thought that Regina might relent; that the hardness in her eyes might soften to the lighter hues that she’d seen last night.

It was only when Regina smiled that Emma’s heart sank. Lips parted, revealing perfect white teeth and the Mayor inclined her head indulgently, stepping forwards up into Emma’s space.

“Apparently being around my son has encouraged you to go on as many flights of fancy as he does,” she said slowly. “But I choose to live in the real world, Miss Swan. I don’t use past experiences as an excuse to bombard others with my personal agenda and I certainly won’t allow you to do the same.”

Shrugging slightly, Regina felt a shameful sense of pleasure at the woeful expression passing over Emma’s features. But it gave her a surge of strength that she needed so very much and she straightened, staring at Emma with flinty eyes.

“The only reason I’m allowing you to stay in town is because my son wants to know you. But he’s deluded. Last night you took advantage of a moment of weakness, just like you’ve been doing ever since you came to this town. And when Henry finally wakes up and sees you for the sort of person that you undoubtedly are, he won’t want you here. Your parents didn’t want you, dear. Storybrooke doesn’t want you.”

Leaning in, Regina’s voice was little more than a whisper as she looked Emma in the eye and delivered her final, killing blow with deadly accuracy.

“And neither do I.”

Emma’s gasp was audible; her dismay and hurt scored in lines across her brow. She even stumbled back a couple of steps, lips parted and eyes glassy with pain.

“You’re lying,” she said, gulping and shaking her head. “You’re a fucking liar, Regina.”

“It’s really only a matter of time,” Regina said equivocally, tilting her head to one side and ignoring Emma’s strained truth. “But I’m a very patient woman, Deputy Swan. I can wait.”

Silence fell between them once more. Neither woman spoke for a long, aching moment. But the hurt painted across Emma’s face in broad strokes sent a cold delight into Regina’s heart and she nodded, smiling again.

“Good,” she said finally, moving back into the house and grasping the door. “Now that’s dealt with, I will no doubt see you at the next council meeting. Do try not to be late this time, dear.”

She grasped the door and closed it with a firm click, casting another wide smile towards Emma before she did so. As soon as she was safely in the confines of her house where nobody could see her — where Emma couldn’t see her — Regina turned, leaning against the solidity of the door and sinking against it.

The smile fell from her lips and she let out a long, ragged breath, pressing her hand to her chest.

It was always the heart, wasn’t it? And she’d taken so many; ripped them from numerous bodies in order to own them, use them, destroy them.

But her own? That had already been torn asunder. And the void inside her yawned wide, a gaping maw of blackness that not even she could magic away.

Regina closed her eyes, realizing her legs were shaking and cursing them silently for betraying her. Her hand curled into a fist where it was pushed against her chest and she felt tears prickle behind her eyes.

It was beginning to hurt.

Part 13

There was a routine to Regina’s morning. She kept to it stringently, applying the same due care and attention that she gave to all parts of her life. Order, after all, was everything. It had been several days since she’d closed the door on Emma Swan — and on that particular chapter of her life — and Regina found a strange comfort in her morning rituals. She clung to them and reveled in them. They were what remained. All that remained, apart from Henry.

Sighing a little, she looked at herself in the huge mirror opposite her bed. Her fingers fluttered around her hair and she lifted a blood–red lipstick to her mouth, applying it with precision. Regina Mills never left the house looking less than perfect. And she wanted everything to be perfect. She needed it to be. Now more than ever.

Leaning back a little, she looked at herself, satisfied with what she saw. Gone were the days when the mirror would ply her with compliments and tell her what she wanted to know. In this realm, Regina had only her own sense of confidence on which to rely.

A smile slid across her painted mouth and she nodded at her reflection. Despite Emma Swan’s troubling presence in her town, not to mention in her life, Regina was assured of the fact that she could and would overcome it. She’d faced far worse before and wasn’t going to let some snit of a girl ruin everything for her. Not when she’d worked so hard and sacrificed so much for what she had now, anyway.

Regina’s eyes fell onto the surface of her chest of drawers and she reached out, picking up the ring that she’d removed before bathing this morning. Holding it up between forefinger and thumb in front of her eyes, she gazed at it for a long minute. It was the only reminder she had of the other world; the only thing she had permitted herself to hold on to. And she wore it daily to remind herself of the things she had given up; things that had cost her dearly.

Sliding it onto her finger, she bunched her hand into a fist and made the promise to herself that she did every morning, without fail. Another one of her little rituals. She would never again allow love to dictate her actions. This ring, all it represented and signified, would have been meaningless otherwise.

Checking her reflection one last time, Regina turned towards her bedroom door.

“Henry!” she called out, walking towards it. “Are you ready? We don’t want you to be late for school!”

Another pleasant morning in Storybrooke, Regina thought smugly as she walked down Main Street. Another day in which the town she’d created would thrive under her leadership. Another set of morning rounds in which she would take it all in and congratulate herself. She would just put Emma Swan out of her mind and, soon enough, out of her town.

Crossing the street opposite the hardware store, Regina noticed Dr Hopper walking towards her. She grimaced inwardly but pasted a smile onto her face in the hopes that he would scurry past her like the terrified little insect of a man that he was.

But he slowed as he drew near, a frowning smile of enquiry on his face. Regina was almost wrongfooted and stumbled a little as he waved hello in his awkward, self–conscious manner.

“Good morning, Madame Mayor!” he trilled, Pongo by his side. “And how are things with you?”

Regina glowered at him with a bored air. But he grinned at her and raised his eyes heavenward for a brief moment.

“Such a beautiful day,” he sighed, inhaling a deep lungful of air and letting it out with a flourish. “Makes you glad to be alive, doesn’t it?”

His enthusiasm for the unimportant really was tiresome, Regina thought, mouth hardening into a firm line. And she didn’t appreciate his overly friendly attitude towards her. Since when did Hopper think they were anything other than employer and employee?

“Is there something you wished to discuss with me, Dr Hopper?” she asked in a terse voice. “Something about Henry?”

He balked, frowning and blinked rapidly. “Um…no…no. Henry’s fine and…I was just — just wondering how you were?” His voice was a little more tentative now, a note of confused concern making him shift from foot to foot.

“I’m fine, Dr Hopper. Was there anything else?”

He shook his head dumbly.

“Then what more do we have to say to one another?” Regina snapped, tugging at her jacket.

Dr Hopper took a breath to respond, then thought better of it. By his side, Pongo whined and pulled at his leash, eager to be on their way. The psychiatrist smiled feebly, shrugging and avoiding Regina’s gimlet gaze.

She nodded and moved past him, making her way past the clock tower and down the street towards Granny’s. Hopper really was the most irritating man, and if wasn’t for the threats that he’d made, she would gladly run him out of town. Or worse. Regina didn’t like to make idle conversation with the people she considered beneath her. And, in Storybrooke, that was almost everyone.

Pushing open the door to the diner, Regina stalked inside and up to the counter. She had no time to waste today; no time to sit and enjoy her coffee. No time during which she might run into Emma Swan.

“Madame Mayor,” Ruby appeared on the other side of the counter and flashed Regina one of her best and brightest smiles. The Mayor blinked. The girl was usually so dismissive that Regina barely acknowledged her most of the time. “Your usual?”

“Yes,” Regina nodded. “But I won’t be staying today. I’ll take it to my office with me.”

“Coming right up,” Ruby nodded, turning to the coffee machine behind her and glancing over her shoulder at the Mayor. “Busy day planned?” she asked, grinning at Regina.

“Excuse me?”

Undeterred by Regina’s arched eyebrow and the surprised tone of her voice, Ruby poured hot milk into the cup in front of her and fixed a lid onto it. She placed it on the counter in front of Regina and smiled again, her scarlet lips parting widely.

“Emma was in earlier on,” Ruby explained, leaning on the counter, far too close for Regina’s comfort. The Mayor shifted, the corner of her mouth turning down in discomfort. “She was saying that she’s hardly seen you at all this week. I figured work must be — ”

“I wouldn’t listen to much that Emma Swan says, Ruby,” Regina cut the girl off mid–flow and picked up her coffee. “Especially not where it concerns me.”

She swept from the diner before Ruby could answer and was on the street, breathing heavily and clutching at the coffee so hard that she could feel it burning her fingers even through the heatproof cup. So that was Emma’s game, was it? If she couldn’t have what she wanted she would try to spread scurrilous rumors to destroy Regina’s reputation?

Anger burrowed into Regina’s brow. Her heart was thudding in her chest and she took several deep breaths in an attempt to slow it. This was unacceptable. Emma Swan’s easy nature and lack of concern for anyone’s feelings but her own was simply unacceptable. And for her to share every thought that entered her silly head with whomever was willing to listen was utterly impossible.

Regina began to walk from the diner’s forecourt with hasty, irritated steps. She would see an end to this; an end to Emma Swan too, if necessary. The woman had insinuated herself into the town, making friends so easily that it couldn’t possibly have any credence. Emma Swan was transient: she had spent most of her life leaving people, not forming bonds with them.

But that was precisely what she’d done. And Regina, who nurtured the town and steered the community with a confident, self–assured hand, had found it an almost insurmountable task to let herself feel anything for these people. She knew that they felt nothing but fear for her. But that was the way she’d designed it; the way it needs must be. It was too late to change now.

Nearing the crossroads at the end of the street, her pace slowed a little as she saw two figures deep in conversation across the road. Emma Swan and Mary Margaret Blanchard.

Regina’s gaze narrowed as she watched them. Their conversation was punctuated by laughter, and Mary Margaret put her hand on Emma’s arm in a gesture of comfort, of friendship — all the things Regina had never experienced. Not for decades.

Pushing at her hair, Emma shrugged and shoved her hands into the rear pockets of her jeans, half–turning on the sidewalk. As she did so, she spotted Regina and their eyes met across the road. The smile on Emma’s face fell immediately and she rolled her eyes, turning back to Mary Margaret, lips moving. The schoolteacher’s gaze flickered towards Regina for a moment before she stepped in closer to Emma, her hand moving to rest on the blonde’s shoulder.

Of all the people Emma could have chosen for a confidante, Mary Margaret Blanchard was the least desirable candidate, Regina decided, marching towards them. Having Emma Swan unwittingly strike up an intimate friendship with her own mother was deplorable. It was disturbing. It was even, the Mayor’s heels clacked on the road as she hurried across it, dangerous.

She was almost upon them when Emma muttered something Regina couldn’t quite hear and Mary Margaret let out a peal of delighted laughter. It was only when the Mayor’s shadow fell over them that she clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and startled. As she and Emma turned to face Regina, they both exchanged a glance of trepidation at the thunderous expression on the Mayor’s face.

“My son is at school,” Regina announced haughtily, fixing Mary Margaret with dark eyes. “I’m wondering why his teacher isn’t. Tell me, Miss Blanchard, why is the city paying you to not do your job?”

“I…” Mary Margaret began, but Regina was not to be placated and drew herself up to her full height, lip curling as she looked the nervous schoolteacher up and down.

“I’m sure you must have a credible excuse for depriving my son of his education but I’m certain I can’t think of what that might be,” Regina continued, rather enjoying the way in which Mary Margaret was beginning to cower. She began to smile, lips stretching wolfishly over her teeth.

“She was helping me.”

Regina’s smile wavered, the voracious gleam in her eyes fading somewhat. Sucking in a short breath, she turned to face Emma. The blonde was frowning, lips pursed in disapproval and she met Regina’s gaze head on. No; Emma Swan really wasn’t scared of her.

It was almost titillating. A tiny flicker of lust sparked in Regina’s gut and she lifted her chin, willing herself to ignore it.

“Deputy Swan,” she said slowly. “What a surprise that it should be you encouraging Miss Blanchard to flout her duties.”

“Please,” Emma rolled her eyes. “You can quit with the whole Mayoral thing. Mary Margaret has organized a visit to the Sheriff’s office for her class to see how we work. It’s educational,” she added, enunciating the word carefully.

“And part of that clearly involves you gossiping on the street?” Regina countered. “Will this be a part of the educational visit too?”

Emma glowered at Regina, squaring her shoulders and glancing at Mary Margaret before taking a step towards the Mayor.

“You know,” she said in a low tone, “it’s kind of petty for you to take it out on her, don’t you think?”

Regina shifted, taken aback by Emma’s proximity and the intent burning in her eyes. The same intent she’d seen when they’d been alone, when nothing else had existed. It made her feel uncomfortable, a pressing tension starting to creep up the back of her neck. If she was the sort of woman who easily blushed, she would be crimson right now.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she barked.

“Yeah, you do,” Emma’s voice continued in that same, grated tone that curled around Regina’s senses like a viper. “Seeing as you haven’t spoken to me or let me see Henry in three days. I’d say you know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“Okay,” Mary Margaret spoke up, lifting her hands in the air and bobbing her head up and down. “I think maybe I should go and…and leave you two to…uh…figure it out…”

The viper struck, tightening around Regina’s chest and she stiffened, eyeing the schoolteacher with a malevolent gaze.

“I’m not sure what Deputy Swan has been telling you,” she hissed, “but this is not some sort of lover’s spat that needs to be ‘figured out’. And while I’m sure that you appreciate having someone to listen to the meandering details of your sad, lonely little life, I would prefer if the details of mine weren’t up for discussion as well.”

Mary Margaret flinched under the tirade but said nothing, not even to defend herself. It wasn’t that she was unable, nor was it that she lacked the courage. She’d just learned to pick her fights carefully and warring with Regina on the sidewalk seemed a highly unattractive option right now. So she demurred and clasped her hands together, gazing down at them with trembling lips.

Emma, however, was less careful about the battles she entered into. Never one to shy away from what she saw as the injustices of the world, she stuck out her chin and moved even closer to Regina, seeing her challenge reflected on the widening eyes of the Mayor. Perhaps it was unwise or, at the very least, impolitic, but Emma was pretty sure she didn’t really care anymore.

Not about clashing with Regina, anyway. Because when all was said and done, that was how they communicated best.

“Jesus, Regina,” she spat, shaking her head. “Leave her alone, can’t you? Stop bullying everyone into submission just because you can and try to be a human being for once in your miserable life!”

It was the first time Mary Margaret had seen the Mayor well and truly speechless. At the back of her mind, she made a silent vow to enjoy it because she was sure it wouldn’t happen again. Although, she gave a sidelong look at Emma, there was the possibility that it might if Emma was here for the long run.

She’d never really understood what it was that drew these two women together, although she’d listened sympathetically to Emma talk about Regina. It seemed wrong, in her head. Wrong and implausible that the Mayor could appeal to anyone in the ways that Emma described. But now, watching Emma and Regina stare at one another, bodies tense and antagonistic, Mary Margaret began to understand. A little, at least.

“I know you think Storybrooke revolves around you,” Emma’s voice was quick and harsh. “And that all the people do, too. But they don’t, Madame Mayor.”

She blinked, catching herself and clamping her lips together just to stop saying all the things that had been flying around her head for three days. Ever since Regina had closed the door on her and whatever messed up thing they had begun together. It was tempting, to set it free and allow herself the luxury of forcing Regina to listen. But Emma knew that it wouldn’t do any good. The only thing that could do any good in Storybrooke was her. With or without Regina.

Calming herself a little, she ducked her head and frowned. Then, lifting her chin, she looked Regina in the eyes and shrugged a little.

“I don’t,” she admitted. “Because when it comes down to it, Regina, I just don’t care anymore.”

And then Mary Margaret saw it, so visceral that she almost gasped aloud. Hurt, entering Regina’s eyes and coloring them with shades of deep pain. Vulnerability shone brightly for a moment in a gaze that the schoolteacher had only ever seen filled with harsh subjugation and judgment. For a moment, her heart clenched with pity for the woman and she could only watch as Regina visibly struggled to regain herself.

For all the reasons Mary Margaret might have been concerned for Emma’s involvement with Regina; for all the difficulties she’d had in understanding Emma’s desire to do so, she finally felt some comprehension descend over her. Because nobody had ever been able to rattle Regina Mills like Emma Swan had just done.

As long she’d lived in Storybrooke, Mary Margaret had never seen Regina so momentarily undone, so dissembled. In fact, she’d always made it her mission to keep people at bay. Emma was the first person Regina hadn’t been able to keep at a distance. And even as the Mayor opened her mouth to fight back, Mary Margaret could tell that it was with a lackluster passion.

Just then, Regina’s cellphone trilled in her pocket. Fishing it out irritably, she lifted it to her ear.

“Yes?” she snapped, her eyes never leaving Emma, who resolutely met them with an unforgiving gaze.

It was only when Regina’s eyes widened and she let out a panicked breath that the expression Emma wore like a shield fell from her features. She moved forwards as Regina nodded several times, horror crossing the Mayor’s face as she did so.

“I’ll be right there,” Regina said brusquely, shoving the cellphone back into her pocket and looking at the two women opposite her, distracted and harried.

“It’s Henry,” she said bluntly. “He’s had an accident.”

“What?” Emma darted forwards, fingers closing around Regina’s elbow, not caring if the Mayor objected to the contact.

“He’s in the hospital,” Regina said, her voice beginning to break. “I need to…I need to go.”

She seemed to crumble, then, and it looked like she might fall, legs suddenly weakened beneath her. Emma moved closer, sliding an arm around Regina’s waist, supporting her as the Mayor’s features crumpled.

“I’ll drive you,” she said.

Part 14

Dr Whale was deep in conversation with Regina, their heads bent together as they stood in the private room of the hospital. Emma paced the floor outside, having sped across town in the Sheriff’s cruiser, lights flashing and Regina sitting beside her, face strained and white.

Regina hadn’t said a word on the ride over, not until they’d screeched to a halt outside the hospital. Even then she’d merely glanced at Emma as she exited the car and requested a little privacy until she ascertained precisely what had happened. It wasn’t a dismissal, but Emma hung back a little, torn between wanting to be with Henry and wanting to respect Regina’s wishes.

Definitely a first, she thought ruefully, glancing towards Dr Whale and Regina once more. The doctor was nodding as Regina spoke to him before he gestured at the bed where Henry lay, immobile and covered in white bedclothes. A monitor was connected to the various wires coming from the boy, beating a sonorous rhythm to indicate that he was, thankfully, still very much alive.

Regina walked Dr Whale to the door of the private room, giving him a half–hearted, polite smile of thanks as Emma approached. He frowned and put up his hand to allay her, shaking his head.

“I’m sorry, Deputy,” he said, “hospital policy dictates that it’s family members only.”

Indignation flared in Emma’s head, buzzing her into an angry silence. She lifted her hand to shove him to one side and surged forwards, ignoring him. Family members only? She was Henry’s birth mother, for crying out loud. How much more family did it have to get before she was allowed to see him? Her mouth twisted angrily as the doctor backed away a little, alarmed.

“I think, under the circumstances, we can waive that policy, Dr Whale.”

Regina halted both Emma’s progress and Dr Whale’s stuttering attempts at protest. He turned to her, confusion on his face. It was difficult to waive a policy for the very person who had enforced it, quite firmly and without question, only weeks before. Regina had informed him that Emma Swan had no legal right to Henry; that she was merely his birth mother, not the woman who had raised him, and that any responsibility for his wellbeing fell on her shoulders, not Emma Swan’s.

Now, however, she inclined her head and refused to meet his gaze of enquiry.

“Miss Swan is the boy’s biological mother, after all,” she said calmly. “That may come in useful, should Henry...”

Her voice trailed off and she swallowed hard, shaking her head to dispel any more disturbing thoughts and her gaze flickered momentarily towards Emma, tense and waiting for judgment.

“We may very well need her,” Regina finished, with a firm nod of her head.

Dr Whale glanced at Emma, noticing the light of triumph in her eyes and the way her chin lifted as she looked at him. But he said nothing; he knew better than to argue with Mayor Mills and he ducked his head submissively, a muscle ticking high up on his cheek.

Moving past Emma, he cast her a baleful glance and disappeared in the direction of the nurses’ station without saying a word.

“Thank you,” Emma said to Regina. And she meant it, too, gratitude warming her voice as she moved forwards into the room. Regina ignored her, returning to Henry’s bed and sitting down in the chair by its side.

Emma grabbed another and placed it on the opposite side of the bed. Both women reached out, taking one of Henry’s hands in their own and holding on tightly. His skin was cold; Emma couldn’t resist the shiver that crept down her spine.

“What happened?” she asked in a hushed voice, looking over the bed to where Regina was gazing at her son’s face. Emma had never seen the Mayor looking so concerned, anguish written in deep lines around her eyes and mouth. If Regina was indeed capable of loving something or someone more than herself, then it was surely the inert figure lying in the hospital bed.

“He…” Regina began, and her voice cracked. She composed herself — or tried to — and cleared her throat. “He got into a fight at school,” she said, voice a little stronger. “Apparently he was upset and ran from the schoolyard into the road and a car didn’t stop in time.”

“Jesus,” Emma whispered. “Is he…he’s going to be okay, though, right?” She wasn’t sure if she was asking for solace from Regina, or from a higher power. In Storybrooke, sometimes it felt as though they were one and the same thing.

“The car wasn’t going very fast and just clipped him,” Regina repeated the explanation Dr Whale had given her, although it was insufficient and barely managed to assuage the creeping sense of panic in her chest, tight around her lungs.

“Henry was in a fight?” Emma said, leaning over the bed. “Henry doesn’t fight.”

Regina’s lips were taut; she sat bolt upright in her chair and refused to look at Emma.

“Apparently he does now,” she said grimly. “Something else I have to thank you for, I’m sure.”

“Hey,” Emma grimaced. “Don’t put this on me. You’ve been his mother for the last ten years. If Henry learned how to fight from anyone, it’s not — ”

“Please, Miss Swan,” Regina held up a hand to stop Emma’s outburst and sighed heavily. “This is neither the time nor the place. I’ve allowed you to be here. If you want to stay, then I suggest you do it as quietly as possible.”

Emma wanted to argue. It was, after all, what she and Regina did best. But she watched as the Mayor’s gaze returned to her son, careworn and worried. She saw how Regina’s hand reached out to smooth hair away from Henry’s brow, how it lingered on the boy’s cheek, fingers trembling. It was such an intimate gesture, one of any concerned mother for her child. And in witnessing it, Emma was aware that, although it was displayed in hard and stentorian ways, Regina really did love Henry.

She let go of the boy’s hand, arms sliding from the bed as she leaned back in her chair. Now she felt like the interloper Regina had deemed her, intruding on the relationship that the Mayor was so fervently trying to establish with her son. No matter what her personal feelings towards Regina were — and Emma certainly hadn’t worked through any of them to an even remote degree of success — she couldn’t help feeling abject sympathy for the Mayor right now.

The desire to soothe the other woman rose up, taking her quite by surprise. And she wanted to say something; say anything that might help remove the stricken expression from Regina’s features.

“We weren’t talking about you, by the way,” she offered into the heavy silence that had fallen over them.

Regina blinked, as though she’d forgotten Emma was even there. Glancing across the bed, she frowned and shook her head.

“I’m sorry?”

“Me and Mary Margaret,” Emma said, with an apologetic little shrug. “Before, when you…on the street. We weren’t talking about you.”

Letting out a little hum of acknowledgement, Regina tilted her head and returned her gaze to Henry’s pale, still features. “Really,” she said.

It was clear that she neither believed nor welcomed Emma’s attempts at explanation, and the Deputy stretched out her legs underneath the hospital bed, boots scuffing the floor. She folded her arms over her chest and eyed the Mayor with a firmer gaze.

“Yeah, really,” she intoned. “I know you think I’m indiscreet, but — ”

“Think?” Regina said, eyebrows lifting. She let out a dismissive huff of air and pursed her lips. “Miss Swan, you have an annoying habit of saying precisely what you’re thinking and feeling, whether anyone wants to hear it or not.”

“Do you want to hear it?”

Now Regina’s eyes roamed her face curiously. There was an intensity to them that shone brightly for a moment before disappearing under suspicion and doubt. Regina lifted her head, a dubious expression casting shadows across her pale skin.

“The only thing I want to hear, Miss Swan, is that my son is going to wake up and return home.”

“Our son, you mean.”

Regina’s eyes widened imperceptibly. “Excuse me?”

Emma sat up in the chair, leaning over the bed once more and taking Henry’s hand in her own again.

“He’s my son too, Regina. Maybe not legally, and maybe not in your eyes, but I carried him for nine months and gave birth to him. I held him in my arms before I gave him away and it wasn’t because I wanted to, but because I knew he’d be better off without me.” Emma’s voice came out in a rush of emotion that she’d hidden away for years, thick and heavy, sounding horribly loud in the quiet room.

The monitor kept pace, sounding out the spaces between them in time with Henry’s heartbeat — the thing that kept them where they were; the thing that had brought them together in the first place.

“I wanted him to have his best chance,” Emma’s voice cracked, brittle and insubstantial under the weight of the burden she’d carried for longer than she even knew. “And I knew it wouldn’t be with me.”

She grasped Henry’s hand a little harder now, a little more desperately, and looked up at his pale face. A bruise was forming on one of his cheeks above a scrape that was red and raw. It looked nasty, Emma thought, remembering all the cuts and bruises she’d endured in her line of work. But Henry was just a kid, and as she grimaced at the dried blood on his face and the already purpling patch of skin, she couldn’t help wondering if the expression on her own features matched Regina’s: anxious, tight, barely keeping panic at bay. The same terror any mother might feel when their child was injured.

It hadn’t really occurred to Emma before now that what she felt for Henry might be love. She’d been so consumed by her warring relationship with Regina that love had been dismissed as a weakness to be exploited. It certainly had been with the man who’d fathered Henry, and the ensuing disappointing reality had banished the prospect of love from her life almost entirely.

Emma couldn’t help wondering if this town and the people in it had worked some sort of magical spell over her heart, opening doors that had been closed for years and reducing the walls she’d so painstakingly erected to dust at her feet.

She smiled sadly to herself. Henry liked to talk of a curse and of fairytales and happy endings. And perhaps his belief had some credence, after all. Because only a curse could have denied her the happy ending that fictional characters always seemed to find so easily. Only a curse could have brought her here and made her stay because of the feelings she’d discovered in unexpected places.

And, she thought wryly, looking over the bed to where Regina was staring at her, deep in thought, unexpected people, too.

“He’s all I have,” Regina whispered. “He’s the only thing I have. Please don’t take him away from me.”

There was a vulnerability to her voice, a pleading tone that elicited a quickening pace to Emma’s heartbeat, resonating and booming in her ears. Meeting Regina’s gaze, she saw all that was held dear, all that was treasured, and all that was lost, too. Yes; Regina had kept her heart locked away for many years, just as Emma had. She saw it so clearly now: it might have been love for Henry that had made them adversaries. But it wasn’t love that insisted on bringing them together time after time.

It was loss.

“I don’t want to take,” she said softly. “I just…I just want to give, Regina.”

The Mayor’s gaze flickered and she dragged it from Emma’s with something like reluctance. Looking at her son, she smoothed a hand over his brow again. Love shone in her eyes: gentle and undemanding. Then she drew in a breath and smiled to herself.

“When Henry was three,” she began in a wistful tone, “he used to follow me around the house and ask me what I was doing every minute of the day. He hated being away from me.”

She glanced up at Emma and shrugged, remnants of her smile still across her lips. “Children are so curious about everything and Henry was no exception. He’s always been rather special, you see, Miss Swan.”

Regina looked at her son, a strange mixture of pride and reprove on her face as she let the memory of him take hold. “I know every mother says that about their child but Henry was always getting into things that he shouldn’t. And I’m afraid his curiosity was his undoing. One day he pulled a rather heavy box from my desk and it fell on top of him. I found out just how precious and fragile a child can be.”

The memory sat uneasily across Regina’s features, tugging them into lines of discontent before she waved her hand in the air and shook her head. “Everyone tells you that children are accident prone but seeing him in pain and crying out for me was…”

She trailed off, pressing her lips together and frowning.

“I was the only one he wanted when he was hurt. I tended to every scrape, every sniffle, every need that he had. And I always, always made it better.”

Her gaze tracked across the bed and she met Emma’s eyes with an anguished, strained expression.

“And now I’m the last person he wants or needs,” she said, her voice hoarsening. “In fact, I’m the person he thinks is responsible for all the bad things that happen in Storybrooke. All the bad things that have ever happened.”

Regina laughed mirthlessly and let go of Henry’s hand, swiping at her cheeks with delicate fingers. “I’ve lost before. I’ve had to carry on living without someone and know that I could never get them back. It’s terrible. But losing someone every single day and feeling it so keenly every time they look at you is…”

She drew a short breath and sat up in her chair, trying to compose herself and failing miserably.

“Well,” she said with a briskness she didn’t feel. “It’s a dreadful curse to have to live with, Miss Swan.”

Regina nodded curtly, satisfied with her assessment and broken by it, too. Her shoulders dropped slightly as she stared at Emma and tried to understand how she could hate the thing she loved so much, and love the one thing she’d always feared.

“Regina,” Emma said slowly, reaching over the bed and grasping at the other woman’s hand, “hasn’t Henry taught you anything?”

“What do you mean?” Regina asked, as Emma’s thumb traced a line across the back of her hand, sending sparks of sensation flying up her arm and across the nape of her neck.

Emma smiled slowly. “In fairytales, one thing is always true.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” Regina’s voice was little more than breath now, falling from her lips with heightened expectation.

“Curses can be broken,” Emma said blithely, the corner of her mouth quirking into a lopsided grin. “You just have to find the right kind of magic.”

A whirl of memories flooded Regina’s head: a castle, an enchanted forest, a betrayal and a longing that had only been sated by the blackest incantations and most heinous of sacrifices. She saw herself, cold and lonely in her black fortress, so full of hatred that vengeance was the only way in which she could ease the pain of her poor, aching heart.

It beat in her chest now, frantically sending ice–cold fear into the darker recesses of her mind. Oh yes; she knew all about how curses could be broken and had worked so very hard to ensure that her own would last forever. She had damned everyone to a life less lived and sustained it for so long that it had become her second nature.

But not her first. That had been abandoned many years ago when she had endured the absence of love. But, as she’d promised in the black smoke of her power and the lightning strike of her revenge, she could live without love. Without her heart. She would just take everyone else’s instead. Then at least they would have to endure the agonizing pain that she felt every minute of every day.

Regina looked down at Emma’s hand on her own, at the outstretched arm that wanted to soothe and heal, not to destroy and wreak havoc. Chaos came in many forms; Regina knew that only too well and had given herself over to it in order to enact a suffering unlike any other.

Her chest ached, an awakening heart renewing itself. And she didn’t pull away this time. She merely waited.

“So,” Emma’s voice broke the hush between them and she slid her hand from Regina’s, leaning back in her chair, “tell me more about little Henry. If he was anything like me as a kid, I bet he was a handful.”

“You have no idea.” The words were out of Regina’s mouth before she had the wherewithal to stop them and she averted her gaze from Emma’s lest the other woman should see the eagerness in her eyes. Before she should know the secrets of Regina’s heart.

“Tell me,” Emma urged, crossing her arms over her chest. “And by the time you’ve finished, he’ll wake up and we can both make sure he knows that fighting isn’t the way to solve anything, right?” The sardonic tone of her voice brought a rueful smile to Regina’s lips and the Mayor paused, wondering if this was really happening at all. If it was even possible for it to happen; for the darkest and blackest of curses to be stripped of their power by something as ridiculously simple as the feeling burgeoning in her chest.

“Alright,” she inclined her head graciously. “When I brought Henry home, he used to cry all night…”

Part 15

Regina had fallen asleep in the chair by Henry’s bed. Emma had managed to keep her talking about Henry for hours and the Mayor had, uncharacteristically, obliged. But worry and stress had slowed Regina down eventually and it was only when afternoon shadows began to fall that she had descended into silence, finally slipping into a fitful slumber in the uncomfortable hospital chair.

Emma rose and paced the room, stretching her legs a little. Henry still hadn’t woken up, but the nurse that had visited a few hours before assured both Regina and Emma that he was doing just fine, that it was just concussion, that he would come around when his body was ready for him to do so.

None of that really helped, though, Emma thought. She cast a worried look at Henry again, then her gaze slid to where Regina was slumped in the chair. In repose, Regina looked free of the burdens she carried, wearing them across her features in lines of bitterness and villainy and she remained only a beautifully striking woman from whom Emma could barely remove her gaze.

If Storybrooke was a world that Regina had created, as Henry claimed, then Emma couldn’t help wondering if something had gone astray. Because not even someone as soulless as Regina would have constructed a world in which her own son hated her, and where she was condemned to watch him slip further and further away.

Emma didn’t want to feel pity for the Mayor. She hadn’t forgotten the things Regina had said, nor had she forgotten the threats she’d made or the plotting she’d carried out to keep David and Mary Margaret apart. But Emma also hadn’t forgotten the way Regina looked at her, clutched at her; the way that, the last time they’d been together, there had been something other than malicious intent in the other woman’s eyes.

She refused to believe that Regina Mills was a being completely bereft of love. But she did believe that the Mayor had, somewhere in her life, forgotten how to feel it.

Sighing gently, Emma took a blanket from the bottom of Henry’s bed and shook it out a little. She moved towards Regina and held it out, intending to drape it over the other woman.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Regina’s eyes were open and she was staring coldly at Emma.

“I was…uh…” Emma was momentarily startled, stumbling backwards a couple of steps and gasping a little. “I didn’t know you were awake.”

The Mayor turned her head from side to side, wincing at the stiffened muscles of her neck and hearing a disconcerting crack as she did so. The corners of her mouth turned down and she eyed the blanket Emma held out with undisguised distaste.

“My son is lying in a hospital bed, Miss Swan,” Regina said. “If I wanted to sleep, I’d do it in the comfort of my own bed.”

Emma dropped the blanket in a heap on the end of the bed and shuffled back to her own chair, sinking heavily into it, perturbed.

“Right,” she muttered. “And we’re back here again.”

Regina sat upright, smoothing down the lines of her immaculate pants and straightening her silk blouse.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, feigning disinterest, although she shot a hooded gaze in Emma’s direction and watched carefully as the blonde rolled her eyes.

“You know what?” Emma grunted. “Never mind. I’m just so tired of this, Regina.”

The Mayor’s eyebrows rose and she offered Emma a tight smile. “If you’re tired, dear, then please feel free to go home.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Regina’s smile widened as Emma snapped at her. Arguing with one another had become something of a sport now. One that she dearly wished to excel at, too. There was a part of her that always responded to the fire she sparked so easily in Emma’s eyes, and she relished the way in which the blonde never backed down. Oh yes; when it came to being stubborn, Emma Swan was an immovable object of infuriating proportions.

But there was a part of Regina that needed it, too; the only thing that incited true passion in her heart. And, if she was honest, she needed to see the same passion from Emma. If that was found in the cut and thrust of their arguments, then so be it. Regina’s truest self had been cultivated in battle, in making her enemies cower and kneel at her feet.

But Emma Swan refused to cower. She knelt only at her own behest. And she adamantly, absolutely didn’t retreat from a fight.

It was one of the things Regina was starting to like the most about the woman.

Looking at her now, the Mayor was struck by the expression on Emma’s face. It was exactly like Henry’s, sullen and disconsolate all at the same time. If she had been in any doubt as to her son’s origins, they were all dismissed as she gazed curiously at Emma across the hospital bed.

“Thank you,” Regina said quietly, begrudgingly.

Emma shrugged. “For what?”

Rather taken aback by her own admission of gratitude, Regina gestured silently towards the crumpled pile of blanket on the end of the bed and Emma shrugged again in precisely the same recalcitrant manner that Henry had. If she was the sort of woman who could possibly find such a thing heartwarming, Regina might have softened.

Instead, she rose to her feet and let out a long sigh, glancing at her son in the bed beside her.

“What are your plans, Deputy Swan?” she asked, walking to the end of the bed and reaching for the blanket, folding it into neat squares.

“My…plans?” Emma was nonplussed and shook her head. “To work for the sheriff’s department, I guess. Stay in Storybrooke.”

“I see,” Regina held the blanket against her chest for a moment, folding her arms across it. “And your plans for my son?”

Emma frowned. “I don’t have plans for your son, Regina. And when it comes to dark schemes, don’t you think it’s kinda rich that you should be the one throwing accusations around?”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” Regina said lightly, placing the blanket carefully on the end of the bed. She turned to Emma and gave the blonde a wide smile. “Believe me, dear, if I were you’d know about it.”

Getting to her feet, Emma took a few short steps to where Regina was standing and looked the other woman in the eye.

“Yeah,” she said in a low voice. “I’m pretty sure I would. But your threats, Madame Mayor, are really starting to wear thin.”

“Threats?” Regina let out a surprised laugh. “I’m not making threats, Deputy. I’m merely acting in the best interests of my son. Of the life I’ve created for us here. Just because he’s fallen head over heels in love with you doesn’t mean I’m going to naively follow suit.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to show surprise, eyes wide and startled. “Love?” she echoed, with a snort of derision. “Like you’d know anything about love.”

“You order that kid around,” her hand shot out and a single finger pointed at Henry’s inert form in the bed, “like he’s some sort of slave.”

Regina’s eyelids fluttered slightly, but she said nothing, fixing Emma with a hard stare.

“Henry is unhappy, Regina,” Emma continued. “And yeah, I know that the whole fairytale curse thing is pretty much all he talks about but it’s all he’s got. He’s immersing himself in it because it’s a way of escaping how crappy he thinks his life is right now.”

“He’s ten, Miss Swan,” Regina barked, eager to defend herself. “Perhaps if you knew anything about children you would understand that Henry is fine.”

“He’s not fine!” Emma threw up her hands and squared herself under Regina’s gaze.

“If Henry wants to escape anything,” the Mayor moved in close, speaking with deliberate slowness, each word heavy with intent, “it has more to do with you being in his life than anything else. Since you came here, you’ve done nothing but drive a wedge between me and my son. And it has to stop, Miss Swan. Do you understand me?”

Emma stared at the other woman, trying to summon up something akin to patience. But here they were again, locked into their pattern of antagonism over Henry. Over each other, too. So as her hands bunched into fists by her sides, Emma knew that her relationship with the boy wasn’t the only thing shining a light of fear into Regina’s eyes.

“Oh yes, Madame Mayor,” she growled. “I understand you just fine. More than you know. And you can keep doing this but I’m not going anywhere. You won’t run me out of town, or out of Henry’s life, or…or out of — ”

“Don’t underestimate me, Deputy Swan,” Regina inched closer to Emma. “Don’t mistake pleasure for intimacy. And don’t think that I won’t protect what’s mine.”

She leaned in, her voice lowering to a hiss. “When it comes to preserving the life I’ve made here, I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Preserving?” Emma blinked. “Henry’s not some museum piece you can stick with a pin and put in a glass case. Things change, Madame Mayor.”

“Not in Storybrooke,” Regina countered.

“Yeah, in Storybrooke,” Emma said, but her voice was softer now. Behind Regina’s rage, behind the hardened exterior that the Mayor so often wore like armor, there was fear. A real, tangible fear. It washed over Emma in waves and she almost flinched from it as she was caught in its current.

“You can’t stop it, Regina,” she told the Mayor. “Whether you like it or not, no matter how much you fight it or tell yourself it’s not happening, you can’t stop it. Because it is happening.”

It was easy to be swept away, then. Easy to drown in it, gasping for air as they were pulled under. They were almost touching; bodies almost pressed up against one another. Emma felt Regina’s breath on her cheek, saw the dull sheen of distress in her eyes, witnessed the moment of submission even as the Mayor tried to shake it away with a lackluster jerk of her head.

“Emma…” Regina murmured, her lips trembling. She paused, hesitant and quite unlike the woman she had become. Instead, she felt herself slip back through years of hurt and hate to become the woman she had once been. The girl who had allowed innocence and emotion to convince her that fairytales did have a happy ending. That they always could.

The words were there at the back of her brain. Regina felt them, a whirlpool of confusion and temptation that clouded her judgment and made her waver, just for a moment.

It was long enough to save her.

“Mom?”

Henry’s voice reached out to them from the hospital bed; muted and hoarse with disuse.

Both women turned immediately, rushing to opposite sides of the bed and leaning over the boy, breath bated as he blinked up at them, confused.

“Mom?” he said again.

“Henry,” Regina said, reaching out to smooth her hand over his brow. The boy frowned at her touch, but didn’t move away from it. His gaze, however, slid upwards to focus on Emma and she smiled crookedly.

“You gave us quite a scare, kid,” she told him.

Henry shifted in the bed, apology coloring his pale features for a moment. Then he looked at Regina, meeting her gaze for a moment before looking away, downcast.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, anticipating a torrent of criticism and warnings, like always. He even tensed a little, preparing for the worst.

It didn’t happen.

When he dared to look back at Regina, Henry blinked, bemused. He saw the desire in her eyes to condemn him; that flinty hardness that he both feared and hated. But it was tempered by something else, something he couldn’t define and it sent an odd feeling shooting into his brain. Because if his adopted mother failed to fulfill the role he’d chosen for her, then how could he ever hope to break the curse she had cast over the town?

He looked at Emma, eyes wide and helpless, silently questioning her.

She reached out, squeezing his shoulder for a moment and giving him a reassuring smile.

“It was an accident,” she told him.

“Caused by a fight,” Regina’s tone of reprove brought twin gazes to rest on her face. She inclined her head at Henry, eyebrows rising. “Which we will talk about later, young man. It’s not the sort of behavior I expect from you at all.”

Henry glanced at Emma and she rolled her eyes before winking at him. It lacked the voracity of Regina’s usual criticism, but it was enough to restore his belief system that his adopted mother was, after all, determined to make his life a misery.

“Do I have to go home now?” Henry asked, and Regina drew in a breath, straightening up. She wasn’t sure whether he sounded fearful or desirous and she faltered a little.

Emma stood up too and glanced over the bed at the Mayor. “I figure they’re gonna keep you in for the night, kid,” she said, seeing an almost grateful curve of Regina’s lips at her words. “Make sure you don’t get into any more fights,” she added with a grin.

Henry smiled widely and felt a surge of happiness in his chest. He even allowed Regina to lean over him, her hand lingering on his hair for a moment before she reached for the bedclothes, pulling them further up over his body.

“I’ll be back tomorrow,” she told him. “And I’ll talk to Dr Whale about you coming home as soon as possible.”

“Emma? You’ll come too, right?” Henry’s eyes sought the blonde’s and she shrugged, nodding at him.

“Sure,” she said, evoking another bright smile from the boy. “And I’ll bring ice cream.”

“Of course,” Regina pulled her jacket from where she’d hooked it over the back of the hospital chair, “because rewarding Henry for fighting with ice cream is exactly the kind of parenting you would espouse.”

Henry frowned again. His mother didn’t like Emma; that he knew. But as she pulled on her jacket and tugged at its lines, there was something of a playful light in her eyes. Something…something different.

His gaze fled towards Emma, who was shrugging and waking towards the door. She was smiling too.

That was weird.

“I’m the good cop, Regina,” Emma told the Mayor, who huffed at her response and shook her head disapprovingly. “And good always wins.”

As the two women reached the doorway to the room, Emma turned and jerked her head towards where Henry lay, a bemused expression crossing his face.

“Isn’t that right, Henry?” she grinned. “Good always wins. Even if it does come in the form of ice cream.”

Regina’s house was dark and cold by the time they entered. Emma had insisted on driving the Mayor home and Regina was too tired to protest. In fact, she realized, as she walked through the hallway to the foot of the stairs, she was exhausted. Caring for Henry was running her ragged. Caring for anyone besides herself was becoming something of a Herculean task.

Sighing, she turned and looked at Emma, hovering by her side.

“Well,” she said, with a curt nod of her head. “Thank you, Deputy, for driving me home.”

Emma shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and tilted her head to one side.

“Really?” she said incredulously. “We’re back to Deputy Swan and Madame Mayor now?”

Regina shoved a hand through her hair and rolled her eyes. “Oh, believe me, I can think of many, many other names to call you but I’m afraid tonight I’m not interested in appeasing you.”

She moved forwards and reached out, trailing her fingers seductively down Emma’s arm. “Why don’t you stop by my office tomorrow? I’m sure I’ll feel much more obliging then.”

“Stop it,” Emma’s hand shot up and shook off Regina’s touch. “I’m not talking about that. And this is kinda getting boring now.”

“What is, dear?” Regina’s eyes flashed with a desire that Emma felt flooding her own veins. It always did when she was near the other woman; it probably always would. Gritting her teeth, she shook her head and took a couple of steps back as though it would help assuage the want.

“This thing we keep doing,” Emma said. “You want me when you want me and then you just throw me away like trash when you don’t. And honestly, Regina? I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.” Hurt fluttered across her features with rapid wings for a moment and she looked away, ashamed.

“Poor Emma,” Regina purred, moving in to touch Emma again, fingers sliding into the blonde’s hair. “It bothers you that you want it so much, doesn’t it? That you want me?”

Emma wasn’t sure if it was a statement or a request; a need that Regina had to be desired and craved. The truth was that she did desire and crave her, even in these moments of cruelty and manipulation. Perhaps more so in these moments.

“I don’t want to,” she muttered, as Regina pushed aside the hair on her shoulder and exposed her neck, leaning forwards to press her lips against it.

A muffled laugh sounded against her skin, buzzing with intent into her brain. Emma felt her legs weaken slightly, despising how her body betrayed her at the precise moment she needed the strength to resist.

“That’s what makes all of this so much more pleasurable,” Regina whispered, her mouth tickling against Emma’s ear.

Grasping Regina’s upper arms, Emma shoved the woman away from her. Then without even taking a breath, she crushed her mouth onto Regina’s, kissing her with anger and resentment. The groan that came from the Mayor’s mouth was almost recompense enough. Almost. But there was an eagerness to Regina’s lips, her tongue snaking out between them to rise and fall over Emma’s. Her fingers scrabbled at Emma’s clothing, pulling at her shirt, reaching for the fastening of her pants.

Emma twisted under Regina’s touch, pushing the woman away from her with some difficulty. She stared at her. There was something desperately sad in the Mayor’s embrace, something broken and damaged that rose to the surface and painted vicious lines across her face, curling her lips into a snarl.

It was terrifyingly beautiful. Heartbreakingly sad.

“Something wrong?” Regina smirked, her hands reaching for Emma once more. “You’re not usually so reticent, dear.”

“I don’t…I don’t want this,” Emma shook her head, gulping in a breath. “Not like this. Don’t you see, Regina? Don’t you see what we’re doing? This isn’t healthy…not for us and not for Henry. And if he gets hurt by it, how will you feel then, huh?”

Her words hung between them for a moment, truth resounding in Regina’s ears and weakening her. It always came back to this, in the end. No matter how much she tried to exist without it, love would always ultimately threaten to break her completely. Should she succumb to it, there would be little left of her at all.

“I just want him to be happy,” Regina said, feeling lust drain from her body and leave her dizzy as something else overtook it. “I just want…”

She paused, looking at Emma with lost eyes and a wandering, abandoned soul. “I’m so tired,” she admitted, wearily passing a hand over her face. “I’m just so tired.”

Her shoulders dropped and she clutched at herself. Any strength that she might have called upon deserted her and she bent slightly, swallowing hard over the sob that rose in her chest.

“Okay,” Emma moved forwards, sliding a hand around Regina’s shoulders and steering her towards the stairs. “Okay, it’s okay.”

But it really wasn’t, Regina thought, as she allowed Emma to guide her up the stairs and into her bedroom. It wasn’t okay, as she allowed the woman to slide the jacket from her shoulders and unbutton her blouse. And, as the rest of her clothes followed suit and Emma pulled back the covers on her huge bed, Regina knew with certainty that nothing would ever be okay again. Because there was no happy ever after for her now. There was only this submission and acceptance of a thing much greater than herself. Far greater than anything her powers could have ever conjured.

Lying back on the plush pillows, Regina saw herself and hated what she’d become. Meek; a shattered image of her former self, lying in crystalline pieces that reflected only tiny shards of the glittering power she’d once possessed.

Anger swelled inside her, but it burgeoned into despair and prickled behind her eyes. Squeezing them shut, she gasped and her hands closed into fists on the bedclothes. Crying wouldn’t help. And the tears she had shed over love had long since dried on her cheeks.

“Sleep, okay?”

Regina opened her eyes again to see Emma standing over her. The look of unexpected tenderness on the other woman’s face should have disgusted her. Such open displays of emotion always had in the past. But tonight, from this woman, it elicited an ache in her chest that Regina knew she couldn’t slice away with the blade of denial and vengeance. She’d cut so much out of her heart already that, were she to hack away at any more, it would disappear completely.

Emma looked down at Regina and gave a half–hearted smile. Nodding, she turned to leave, but a hand closing around her wrist stopped her. Whirling around, she frowned.

“You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?”

It was said in a gasp, barely a breath’s whisper. And as their eyes met, Emma saw the real fear that Regina held close to her chest, locked up tightly for years of mistrust and doubt.

Moving around the end of the bed, Emma slid her leather jacket from her shoulders and dropped it onto a chair. Kicking off her boots, she clambered onto the bed and lay down beside Regina, taking the other woman’s hand in her own and squeezing gently.

“Not tonight,” she said with a helpless little smile. “Now, sleep. Okay?”

Part 16

Emma woke alone, still fully clothed. After her initial confusion cleared, she blinked, gazing around Regina’s bedroom with a frown. The Mayor’s clothes from the previous day had been picked up from the floor — where Emma had dropped them the night before — and neatly folded over a chair in the corner. Her own jacket was lying over another chair, boots placed just underneath.

She’d slept the night at Regina’s house.

Struggling up onto her elbows, Emma looked at the rumpled sheets loosely thrown over her legs.

She’d slept the night in Regina’s bed.

Flopping back onto the pillows, Emma let out a grunt followed by a long, drawn out sigh. Sleeping over. Without sex.

Regina wouldn’t like that. At all.

She followed the noises through the house until they brought her to the kitchen. Peering around the doorway, Emma saw Regina at the stove, wearing her businesslike slacks and shirt, but with a horribly frilly apron tied around her neck and waist. If she hadn’t been able to pull off the look with an annoying sense of aplomb, Emma might have laughed.

Regina was cooking something that smelled delicious. Emma couldn’t help the sigh of appreciation that slid from her mouth; it was the growling of her stomach that had prompted her to leave Regina’s bedroom in the first place. She swung around the doorway and into the kitchen, her movements attracting Regina’s gaze and earning her a tiny smile of welcome.

“You cook?” Emma asked incredulously, drawing closer to Regina’s side and catching the faint flush that rose on the other woman’s cheek.

“I do,” Regina said sharply, albeit not unkindly. She rattled the pan on the stove and its contents sizzled enticingly.

Emma rose up behind Regina, looking over the other woman’s shoulder and into the pan. Its contents were colorful, a mixture of vegetables in amidst a sea of eggs. The blonde’s mouth watered and she let out a groan of anticipation.

“That looks really great,” she murmured.

“It’s a secret recipe my mother — ” Regina turned and realized that Emma’s cheek was almost upon her own, that she was looking directly into Emma’s eyes and that the other woman’s lips were parted hungrily.

For a moment, Regina was struck dumb, her mouth moving but no words available as her brain shorted out. She could fight it, and had even told herself this very morning that she would. But when Emma looked at her like that, and when the curves of another body fit so well against her own, Regina wasn’t sure if she could promise to take another breath with any degree of success.

It was only when Emma smiled back at her that Regina blinked, finally gasping and swallowing visibly.

“A secret recipe my mother gave to me,” she repeated, as Emma’s breath flooded over her skin and tickled dangerously on her neck.

“Yeah?” Emma’s eyes never left Regina’s. “Gonna tell me your secrets, Regina?”

Regina smiled, despite herself. “Be very careful, Emma, or I just might.”

Emma chuckled softly, sliding an arm around Regina’s waist. “Promises, promises,” she hummed as Regina’s lips moved towards her own.

The moment hung between them, elongated and stretching out like a long summer’s day. It was so easy sometimes, Regina thought absently; too easy, almost.

Which meant that it was a trap.

Jerking her head back, she literally elbowed Emma in the ribs, pushing the other woman back a pace or two.

“Go and sit down,” she gestured with her head to the huge kitchen table behind them.

“There’s only one setting,” Emma noticed, wandering over. “Are you going to make me watch you eat or something?”

Regina turned from the stove and fixed Emma with a glare that could have reduced a mere mortal to ashes. The blonde lifted up her hands helplessly and shook her head.

“What?” she asked, eyes wide. “Just because we spent the night together doesn’t mean you don’t still hate me, right?”

The Mayor’s gaze darkened and Regina frowned before turning back to the stove and stirring furiously at the pan in front of her. Her shoulders hitched but Emma couldn’t see the expression on her face.

“I cooked for you,” Regina’s voice reached the blonde. “I’ve already eaten this morning and I thought…” She paused, shaking the pan over the heat again with a vigor it didn’t really require.

“I cooked for you,” she repeated. And that was all she said.

Emma’s mouth opened in realization and she flailed wildly for the right thing to say. Apology? No, Regina wouldn’t appreciate that. Ignore it? Maybe, just to save Regina’s feelings. Or she could —

“Now, sit down,” The Mayoral command was back as Regina straightened, turning and giving Emma a hard stare.

Offering Regina a crooked smile and lifting her hands in silent surrender, Emma dramatically backed away and slid into the seat at the head of the huge, wooden table. She picked at the edge of the overly ornate mat in front of her and glanced back at Regina.

Emma had never been on a date that ended in a cozy breakfast the next morning.

In fact, she thought, lifting the knife and staring at her distorted reflection in it, she hadn’t ever really been on a date where she’d stayed long enough to have breakfast the next morning.

Never mind the fact that the woman cooking her breakfast was someone that Emma considered to be something of an enemy. And last night hadn’t been a date, anyway. It had been something different. Something disturbingly real. Not that she was stoically opposed to something real, but, she thought with a glance back at Regina, she was pretty sure the Mayor was. And, knowing Regina, even if she wasn’t she’d fight it tooth and nail all the way.

Even if she was currently cooking breakfast for Emma. And even if she had set the table and made coffee and was currently channeling a fifties housewife with disturbing accuracy.

It was pretty confusing, Emma sighed, slumping back into the chair. But she was damned if she was going to pass up whatever smelled so good. A free breakfast was, after all, a free breakfast. So Emma decided she would waive her usual cut and run.

Just this once.

Shoving the final piece of fresh bread into her mouth, Emma chomped down delightedly, licking at her fingers and reaching for the newly topped up mug of coffee by her empty plate.

It was only when she swigged lustily that she noticed Regina staring at her. The Mayor had sat at the table while Emma ate — albeit not as long as Regina had expected. She’d been somewhat alarmed at the voracity of Emma’s appetite, watching in amazement as the blonde shoved forkful after forkful of food into her mouth, barely stopping to make noises of appreciation and to nod gratefully at Regina.

Now, however, Regina could barely contain the expression of muted distaste on her features. And Emma, eyes widening as she washed down her final mouthful of food with some of the best coffee she’d ever had, replaced her cup onto the table and shrugged.

“What?”

Regina blinked slowly, thoughtfully, then lifted her own coffee cup to her mouth, sipping daintily.

“You eat like a child,” she remarked, setting her cup back down again.

Emma stared down at her empty plate and put her hands, palm out, onto her stomach, sighing happily.

“That was good!” she exclaimed. She turned to Regina and gave her a sly grin. “You’d make someone a lovely wife,” she told her.

The Mayor’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need to belong to someone else to be a good cook.”

“Seems a shame to be letting all that talent go to waste,” Emma commented, toying with the fork on her plate, chasing around a tiny piece of food.

“I have many other talents that aren’t going to waste, thank you,” Regina got to her feet and reached out, taking Emma’s plate and the fork from her with the glower of an irritated parent. She walked over to the sink where she placed them carefully by its side, then turned and leaned against the counter.

“Now,” she continued in the same confident tone, “don’t you think we should talk about Henry?”

Emma twisted around in her chair and stared at Regina. She certainly seemed genuine enough, but doubt pinched at the back of her neck and she eyed the other woman with caution.

“What about him?” she asked.

“You’re his mother, biologically,” Regina said.

“Yes,” Emma frowned a little. Regina had a way of making that word sound like it was a curse, not immutable fact.

“And your intention is to stay in Storybrooke for the foreseeable future,” Regina added.

“Uh…yes,” Emma nodded.

“Then I think, for Henry’s sake, we should try to work around it. Somehow.”

Emma froze in her chair, gripping the side of it with clawlike fingers.

“Are you serious?”

Regina fixed her with a hard gaze. “When it comes to my son, Miss Swan, I’m always serious.”

Moving back to the table, Regina sat down again and reached for her coffee, curling her hands around the cup for a moment. Her eyes appeared as inviting as warm chocolate and she nodded, smiling graciously. Despite her instincts, Emma couldn’t help responding. And something inside of her shifted slightly, making room for the memory of how it felt.

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I’d like that.”

“Henry would like it,” Regina qualified, leaning back in her chair. “Making my son happy is more important than….” She paused and looked down at her hands.

“Well, it’s more important than anything,” she said quietly.

“Agreed,” Emma said, nodding. Her gaze slid down Regina’s arms to where the Mayor’s fingers were toying with the ring she always wore. “And what about us?”

Regina’s gaze fled to her own for a moment, eyes widening slightly. “Us?” she repeated, a little alarmed.

“Yeah,” Emma nodded. “I mean, I slept here last night. You cooked me breakfast. Not to mention, you know, all the sex we’ve been having lately. Doesn’t that make you…I mean…I think that — ”

“There you go again, dear,” Regina smiled, but this time it was a little colder than before; a little more practiced. “Being presumptuous.”

“Right,” Emma’s lips pursed and she sat back in her chair, vaguely disappointed. She shouldn’t have been, though; after all, this was Regina’s way. For every inroad Emma felt like she was making, Regina would block her at every turn sooner or later.

Letting out a grumbling sigh, Emma supposed that she shouldn’t really argue. Regina had agreed to let her into Henry’s life. That would be enough. Wouldn’t it?

“So we just…take care of Henry and ignore everything else that’s going on?” Emma threw up her hands and looked at Regina. The Mayor met her gaze with a resolute expression before pushing back her chair and getting to her feet once more.

“Don’t you think that’s enough for now?” Regina said, but it wasn’t a question, more of a statement of intent. She walked towards the doorway of the kitchen, not giving Emma any time to think of a suitable response, let alone verbalize it.

“Now, if you’re done eating, I suggest we pick Henry up from the hospital. I’ve already organized it.”

“Of course you have,” Emma murmured to herself.

Regina turned in the doorway and fixed Emma with a somewhat harder stare than she’d intended. But the way that the blonde avoided it was pleasing enough and the Mayor nodded imperceptibly. Maintaining the upper hand, after all, was the nature of this game. And when it came to tactics, nobody had ever bested Regina Mills.

So as she tugged at the fastenings on the apron, removing it and putting it onto the counter top closest to her, Regina smiled. Until she found out what Emma’s true game was, she would have to be content to play this one.

The ride back from the hospital was mostly conducted in silence. Henry, sitting in the back seat, kept glancing between Emma and Regina in the front, his brow furrowed in confusion. He’d kept careful track of the changes in Storybrooke since Emma had come here, cross–referencing events in town with the ones in his book. Throughout his work — his quest, as he saw it — one thing had remained clear: his adopted mother was the Evil Queen and Emma was the conquering hero who would break the curse.

The two of them were locked in an age–old battle of good and evil. It meant that they were adversaries; enemies who were bound to fight and rage against one another until Emma could defeat the Evil Queen. Every time Regina pulled him close, Henry clung to his beliefs and endured her touch because he knew that one day, his real mother would free him of all of this. She would free everyone from the evils that his adopted mother had unleashed on his world.

He would get his happy ending. Of that, Henry was determined.

But, today, something wasn’t right. And he saw it as clearly as he saw the cursed town, as clearly as he saw the fairytale characters walking around it every day.

Emma and Regina had both appeared in his hospital room wearing bright smiles and offering platitudes as he shakily rose from his bed. They had been affectionate, perhaps overly so. But as he felt Emma’s arms wrap around him, Henry hadn’t questioned it.

He hadn’t questioned their terse but pleasantly polite conversation as they drove home, and he hadn’t given in to the nagging sense that something was different — that something had changed without him being aware of it.

It was only when they reached his home, Emma slowing the car to a halt and twisting around in her seat that he spoke up, face lined in contemplation.

“What happened?” he asked her, as Regina got out of the car and moved to the door by his side.

Emma blinked. “You had an accident,” she said, nonplussed. “That concussion not quite gone yet or something, kid?”

“No,” Henry shook his head as Regina opened the door and he clamped his lips tight shut. It wouldn’t do, after all, for the Evil Queen to know anything about Operation Cobra.

“Come on, Henry,” Regina said, holding out her hand to him. “You’re to rest today; the doctor said so.”

“Can I see you later?” Henry asked Emma, with a sideways glance at his mother.

“Well…I guess — ”

“Henry, Deputy Swan has work to do.” Regina’s instincts to deny the boy access to Emma overtook her for a moment and she glared at the boy, at his desire to give his affections to anyone but her. It hurt in her chest and she winced over it as she attempted to quell the sharp stab of pain.

Meeting Emma’s eyes, Regina let out a short sigh of resignation, remembering the agreement she’d made with the other woman. Hating that she’d done so, too.

“She can visit you tonight,” she added. “After you’ve rested.”

Henry’s initial elation turned to confusion as he caught the tiny smiles that each woman offered to one another. Looking between them, he frowned. Yeah, something was definitely changing in Storybrooke. He wasn’t exactly sure it was for the better.

But he obediently clambered from the car and even allowed Regina to take his hand, leading him towards the house. Casting a backwards look at the car, he watched as Emma smiled brightly at him and lifted her hand, waving.

Then he looked up at his mother and what he saw disturbed him all the more. Because Regina’s gaze drifted to the car as well and, as he watched, Henry saw his mother smile to herself. A secret smile; the kind that appears when nobody is looking.

What bothered him all the more was that, for the first time that he could recall, it was genuine.

Part 17

Henry was bored. More than that, he was confused and not a little irritated.

His mother had tucked him up in bed with strict instructions not to do anything, not to move and absolutely not to leave his bed. Henry’s instincts had told him to protest but given that his mother was the Evil Queen and also given that she might revoke Emma’s visit at any time without just cause, he decided to go along with her.

Although, in retrospect, Regina had seemed less like the Evil Queen and more like a worried mother. She’d fussed over him for longer than was really necessary before leaving his room, Henry gazing after her in suspicious doubt. He’d seen her games before; those times when being a mother had been important for other people to witness. It was her way of convincing people that she was good; that she cared. That she hadn’t cursed this whole town and everyone in it.

It was just…

Henry stared at his closed bedroom door and frowned. It was just that, for the first time he could remember in a long while, his mother had seemed genuinely concerned. There had been tears in her eyes as she bent over him and put a blanket over his legs. And her voice had wobbled when she kissed him on the top of his head and told him that she would never let anything hurt him.

He might only be ten years old, but even Henry was wise enough to understand sincerity when he heard it. Even from someone as skilled and manipulative as the Evil Queen.

It confused him.

Anxious, he reached for the book by the side of his bed, opening it up on his lap and flicking through pages. As they flurried by, he saw glimpses of the people he was trying to help: Snow White, Prince Charming, Granny and Red Riding Hood. But it wasn’t until he got to the page where the Evil Queen stood in all her wicked glory that he stopped.

In the picture, the queen was standing on the balcony looking over her domain. It stretched for miles beyond the foundations of her castle, as black and dark as she was. The castle and the heartless woman in it seemed to cast a shadow across the land, creeping with grimy fingers through forests, valleys and vast plains.

Henry squinted, looking closer. His face screwed up as he brought the book up to his eyes and inspected the picture. At first he had thought the queen triumphant, basking in the afterglow of her damnation across fairytale land.

But it wasn’t arrogant pride that he saw on the queen’s face. Her features weren’t bearing that lust for power that he so often associated with the way Regina’s face moved, how she smiled, how she condemned.

The Evil Queen was staring out from her balcony with an expression of profound sadness on her face. If there was wicked intent, it was absent from the pale skin and dark eyes that Henry had seen in so many other pictures in the book. The woman in the drawing didn’t look anything like the witch that Henry feared was his adopted mother.

He stared at the picture, a frown working its way between his eyes. The Evil Queen was bad. All the time. It was her role in the story — in his life. She didn’t care about anything or anyone; she simply had no right to look so sad.

Scrabbling through a few of the pages, Henry tried to find out what was happening in the story to make the Evil Queen so unhappy. So human. He didn’t like it.

“Henry?”

He gasped, dropping the book and staring at the doorway, where Regina had suddenly appeared. His mouth opened and closed for a moment, knees rising defensively on the bed.

Regina moved into his room and walked towards the bed, sitting down on the edge. Spying the book in his lap, her lips pressed together at the sight of it. But she merely reached out, sliding it away from his grasp. Glancing at the embossed cover, she frowned and wished, for the hundredth time since he’d brought it home, that Mary Margaret had never given it to him. It opened a window into her world — into her past.

It wasn’t one she wanted Henry looking through.

“How are you feeling?” she asked him, a benevolent smile gracing her features.

He tensed a little as her hand smoothed over his brow, but offered her a vague smile of assurance.

“I’m bored,” he told her. “And I feel fine. Can I get out of bed?”

She ignored his hopeful expression and shook her head. “Not yet.”

As he sighed and slumped back onto the pillows behind him, Regina was caught by a sudden desire to please him. He always looked at her like this, disappointment and dislike written across his face in broad strokes. Every time he did, she felt her heart shrink a little more.

“Henry, one of the teachers at your school said you were fighting. Is that true?” She looked him directly in the eye and his gaze wavered. Finally, his head dropped and he nodded slowly, begrudgingly.

Regina let out a slow breath and her lips twitched in reprove. “Really, Henry,” she said in admonishment. “Haven’t I taught you any better than that? We don’t solve our problems with a fist. I can’t possibly imagine what would have incited you to brawl in the playground like some sort of miscreant.”

His head shot up and he stared at her with wide eyes. “Stanley was saying stuff that isn’t true!”

His mother lifted her chin, gazing down at him with hooded eyes. “And what was Stanley saying?”

“He was…” Henry almost told her before a frown wrinkled his forehead and he looked down at his hands, fingers furiously picking at the edge of his blanket.

“Yes?” Regina urged. Her hand slid over his own and stilled his fingers.

Henry shrugged. “He was saying stuff about…bad stuff about my mom.”

Regina’s head jerked back on her neck. She narrowed her eyes, staring at him but his face was so earnest that it broke her resolve. Perhaps she was making some advancement with Henry, after all. And she couldn’t help smiling at him, reaching out to touch his hair.

“So you played the hero,” she remarked, but her delight was tempered somewhat by the way he flinched away from her.

“You know that fighting is wrong, don’t you? Even if it is for me.”

He gazed at her, realization dawning on his face. And as she looked at him, Regina was gripped by the chilling knowledge of what he was going to say next. Anticipated words that were spun dread into her brain, confirming what she already knew.

“It was for Emma.”

Her hand stilled in his hair, fingers hooking like claws as she removed it. Leaning back on the bed, her eyes became granite, hard and glassy. Of course. It was to be expected that Emma would be in the way. She had been ever since she’d arrived in Storybrooke, sorrowful and nervous on Regina’s doorstep.

Regina looked down at her son, at the child she now knew she could never fully call her own. Her heart twisted in her chest and she almost cried out over the pain it spread throughout her whole body.

“I see.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t.

“Emma’s got nobody to fight for her,” Henry said, his boyish voice rising in intensity. “And she’s my mom. I have to stick up for her because that’s what families do.”

Now Regina rose to her feet and stared down at Henry as though she’d never seen him before. He had no idea how this pained her — how could he? Betrayed by the one she loved beyond the telling of it; betrayed by the devious nature of Emma Swan, too.

“She’s not your mother,” Regina barked the mantra that she had repeated to him so many times. “She’s not your family, Henry. I am. We’re a family.”

“No we’re not.” He was stubborn, resolute. Cruel. Perhaps unnecessarily so.

“Stay where you are,” Regina told him, moving for the doorway. “I need to go out for a little while.” Grasping the handle of the door, she opened it and stepped into the hallway.

“And Henry?” she appeared around the edge of the door and fixed him with a glare that had him transfixed under it for a few whirling seconds.

“Don’t think about moving one inch until I get back. If you do, there’ll be trouble.”

Part 18

“Henry’s okay now?”

Emma blinked and looked at Graham with utter incomprehension before she even realized he was talking to her.

Jerking in her chair, she nodded sharply. “Oh, yeah,” she said, “he’s resting at home.”

“With Regina,” she added, rolling her eyes at him.

Graham hooked his fingers into his belt and stared down at Emma. Her gaze had returned to her desk once more and she’d begun toying with her keys. For all her hard, protective edges, Emma Swan had more tells than Leroy at a poker game after too many shots of whiskey. And today, Graham could see them all.

Wandering to the opposite side of her desk, Graham sat down and folded his arms over his chest.

Emma had spent a large part of the morning staring into space. Graham had observed long moments in which she barely seemed sentient at all. Now, however, at the mere mention of the Mayor’s name, Emma was nervous. Her keys clinked against one another as she turned them over in her fingers, and Graham took a breath.

“You and the Mayor,” he said tentatively.

Emma’s fingers stilled and her gaze swung to meet his. She looked more than a little agitated by the suggestion. And even Graham almost balked at the aggressive reluctance he saw in her eyes.

“Really?” she growled.

Offering her a sympathetic smile, Graham shrugged. “I don’t want to pry but — ”

“You totally do,” Emma grunted. She glared at him for a second and then leaned back in her chair, letting out a long sigh.

“Anyway,” she intoned, “there is no me and the Mayor.” Her fingers crooked into air quotes before she grimaced and let her hands drop back onto her lap.

“But you stayed the night at her house,” Graham said. As Emma sat bolt upright in her chair and glared at him, he demurred slightly, rolling his eyes a little.

“Night patrol,” he explained. “Your car was outside Regina’s house all night.”

She gave him a look of disgust. “Stalking me now, are you?”

“Night patrol,” he firmly corrected her. “And I was just concerned, Emma, that’s all.”

“About what?” she barked. “That Henry’s stories might be true and Regina was summoning up some kind of spell to cast on me?”

Huffing a small laugh, Graham shrugged. He’d seen for himself the darkness in Regina’s eyes; how she looked at him when she thought he wouldn’t notice. There was a hunger in her eyes for him; intimacy in the caresses she draped over him, even affection in the curl of her arms around his torso. But she’d never wanted him to stay: once her desires had been sated, even when her kisses had softened to closeness, she always asked him to leave. She’d told him it was for Henry’s sake but Graham had learned in the desperate way that she clutched at him that it was for her own.

He had been under no illusions on that score. It was why he never felt anything when he was with Regina; it was why he stopped wanting to stay. Her heart wasn’t his to want or own. And she guarded it so fiercely that Graham knew he lacked the strength to even try taking it.

But it didn’t mean that someone else couldn’t.

“Living in a small town,” Emma muttered, as Graham came out of his reverie. “Everyone gets to hear about everything,” she sighed at him. “So I stayed overnight at Regina’s. So what?”

“So Regina doesn’t let people stay,” he replied. “Regina has lovers, but they always disappoint her in the end.”

“What do you mean?”

Graham shifted in his chair and tilted his head to one side. “She’s a very complex woman, Emma. And Henry is the only person she’s ever truly loved. Everyone else was…” he waved his hand in the air, “…like me. Always kept at a distance. They weren’t good enough for her.”

“Everyone else?” Emma repeated drolly. She found the notion of Regina being anything close to promiscuous slightly disarming. And faintly ridiculous. She might have gotten under Regina’s skin but Emma knew that beyond their own messy relationship, the Mayor wasn’t the sort to go around seducing half of Storybrooke into her bed.

Graham threw her a look of reprove. “She doesn’t keep you at a distance.”

Emma grunted. “Says you.”

“She doesn’t,” Graham persisted, as Emma rolled her eyes at him over–dramatically and let out a huge emphatic sigh.

“Graham, don’t mistake this for something it’s not. Me staying at Regina’s and this…this whole thing is irrelevant.” That was what Emma had agreed with Regina. That anything — everything — else between them that wasn’t related to Henry was unnecessary. In fact, it had been Regina who’d used the word ‘irrelevant’. And she’d said it in such a matter–of–fact way that Emma had been given no choice but to agree.

Maybe the notion of her and Regina being anything other than Henry’s mothers was ridiculous. Irrelevant. Besides, Emma turned to face Graham with stoicism on her face, it wasn’t as though she wanted more than what she and Regina currently had, anyway. That was the lie she’d told herself all morning; the lie she was starting to believe.

“Have you thought about Henry in all of this?”

“Have I…?” Emma’s mouth dropped and she got up from her seat, storming over to Graham’s side of the desk and perching on it, leaning over him.

“Henry is all I think about in this,” she growled. But she wasn’t angry at him. She was angry at herself, at Regina for being part of it, at the fact that it had happened in the first place. Especially when she couldn’t run away, no matter how much the urge to do just that was constantly buzzing around at the back of her mind.

“I’ll do whatever I can to have a relationship with that kid,” she said, eyes grave and serious. “This thing with Regina is nothing, and you know why it’s nothing?”

Graham shook his head silently.

“Because she’s not capable of it,” Emma said bluntly.

“Doesn’t mean you aren’t,” Graham interjected.

Emma glowered at him. “Maybe I’m not either, I don’t know. But what I do know is that the only thing between me and Regina is Henry.” She clamped her lips together and they trembled a little.

“It’s better if we keep it that way,” she added, her voice quieter now. Saying it out loud made it more real. The decision that Regina had made for them. Her shoulders slumped as she reasoned with herself that it was the right decision, after all.

It had to be, didn’t it? Nothing as heated as the fire that burned between her and Regina could ever last, could it? They would always be trapped in the ongoing exchange of power, wresting it from one another because they were terrified to be without it. That was no way to live, was it? Certainly no way to love.

“Emma.” Graham’s hand was on her arm, his eyes warm and compassionate. “Since you came to Storybrooke, things have been better. Different, you know? Don’t you ever wonder why you came here? Why you stayed?”

“Henry.” Emma’s voice broke over his name.

“That’s why you came,” Graham nodded.

“It’s why I stayed!” Emma’s eyes met his and she was suddenly fierce, defensive, angry. “The only reason I stayed.”

Pushing herself up off the desk, she stalked a few paces away from him then spun around on her heel.

“Look, I know nobody from Storybrooke has ever been anywhere or done anything,” she said, her voice low in anger. “But I have. And let me tell you, the world out there isn’t some sort of fairytale where people meet and fall in love and live happily ever after. That’s not how the world…”

Trailing away, she swallowed some of her ire, the rest remaining as a flush of red high up on her cheeks.

“That’s not how my world works,” she admitted. “My happy ending is Henry, you know? That’s what I get. And I’m really, really lucky to get that.” Her voice became a rushed breath, an acknowledgement of all that she had lost. Time that she could never get back.

“Anything else is…is ridiculous,” she told Graham. “Even in Storybrooke. It’s ridiculous.”

“So you keep saying,” Graham murmured.

“Because she’s Regina Mills, Graham!” Emma stared at him as though he were profoundly stupid. “The real difference between you and me is that you can fuck her and ignore all the things she’s done. All the threats she’s made and the stories she’s run in the newspaper for her own gain. You can pretend that nothing’s wrong here or that she doesn’t have this town on a leash because you’re in her bed and you’re letting her use you.”

She blinked, shaking her head and feeling the inevitable surge to flee swell in her chest.

“But I can’t.”

Graham leaned forwards in his chair, resting his elbows onto his knees. He couldn’t tell her to stop; he couldn’t tell her she was wrong. Because she wasn’t. Her presence in Storybrooke had changed something. As he squinted up at Emma, Graham suspected he knew just what. Or whom.

“That’s why I stay, Graham,” Emma told him in a slow, deliberate tone. “I stay because my son is living with that woman and until I find out what she’s all about, I’m not going anywhere.”

Regina froze in the corridor leading to the sheriff’s office. She’d heard quite enough. Enough to prove to her that Emma Swan was a very real and present danger — in all areas of her life.

She’d forgotten what a mother’s love might make her do. What her own, long begotten desires had made her do as well. All the things she would do to keep her happy ending alive.

Swallowing the hurt that rose unexpectedly in her throat, Regina blinked away the prickle of tears behind her eyes. She would replace that hurt with pain; she would fill the void in her soul with anger. With vengeance.

It was, after all, what she was best at.

Part 19

“Yes?” Regina’s expression was sour as Emma made her way into the hall of her home.

The blonde frowned quizzically and shrugged at Regina, gesturing towards the stairs. “I’m here to see Henry,” she said. “As promised.”

Regina lifted her chin, looking at Emma with open hostility. She hadn’t forgotten what she’d heard at the sheriff’s office, nor had she been able to forgive it. Even as her gaze roamed over Emma’s features and she felt the faint stab of lust in her gut, Regina couldn’t forget. Wouldn’t. She hung onto Emma’s rejection just like she clutched Henry’s close to her chest. After the weakness of emotion subsided, replaced by emptiness, rejection was all she had.

And it hurt, to hold it so closely to her chest, to her heart. It wrenched all the good out of her. What little was left.

“He’s in his room,” Regina said curtly, turning and stalking towards the study.

Emma glanced up the staircase, confused. Before she knew it, she was following Regina across the hallway and into the study. The Mayor lifted a heavy, crystal decanter and poured some whiskey into a glass filled with ice. The frozen lumps clinked against the glass as Regina lifted it to her lips and took a large mouthful.

Eyes narrowing, Emma shifted slightly, putting her hands onto her hips. It didn’t look as though it was Regina’s first drink of the evening.

“What’s up?” she asked, as Regina sank into one of the armchairs by the fire, the glass against her lips.

The Mayoral grace with which Regina dismissed people so easily flooded towards Emma and the blonde bristled. Even a little blurry around the edges Regina Mills was supercilious enough to make anyone — even Emma — feel like a lesser mortal.

“Go and see my son, won’t you?” Regina drawled wearily, gesturing towards the door with her glass. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Okay,” Emma moved to drop into the chair opposite Regina, leaning forwards with her elbows on her knees. “This morning you were cooking me breakfast and now you can barely look at me. I thought we’d agreed that — ”

“We agreed that Henry was our priority.” Regina’s voice brooked no dissent and she glanced at the other woman, raising her glass in a mocking salute. “And congratulations, Emma, on being his.”

“I…don’t know what that means,” Emma said, shaking her head.

“The reason he was fighting, dear.” Regina took another sip of whiskey and eyed Emma with resentful eyes. “The reason he ran into the road and ended up in hospital. A child at his school was casting aspersions on his mother.”

She paused, lips twisting into a moue of discontent. “Which is you, apparently. Henry took it upon himself to play the hero.”

She waved her glass towards Emma once more. “Something else he appears to have inherited.”

“Wait…I don’t understand,” Emma held up her hand and waved it thoughtfully in front of her face. “Henry was fighting because of…because of me?”

Regina let out a snort of laughter and turned scornfully upon Emma. “Don’t be so innocent, dear. My son adores you. There’s nothing he wouldn’t do to protect his mother, as he took great delight in telling me earlier on.”

It was only as she turned her face away from Emma that the pain on her face was evident. Regina lifted the glass to her lips, savoring the burning sensation of the whiskey sliding down her throat. The look in her son’s eyes as he relished revealing the extent of his hatred had been alarming. Wanting his love as much as she did and knowing it was beyond her reach was devastating.

Her mouth turned down and she stared at the fire. Usually it offered her so much solace; she found some semblance of peace in the flames that she used to control. But tonight all she could find was an immolation of her soul that raged inside her. Just like it had after the last betrayal.

“Regina.”

The Mayor turned at the sound of Emma’s voice, suitably in control to prevent her flying at the other woman and tearing her apart.

Emma sighed heavily. A few weeks ago, Henry’s hurtful comments about his adopted mother might not have given her so much cause for consternation. But a few weeks ago she hadn’t slept with Regina. She hadn’t tasted the other woman and longed for her in the way that she did. She hadn’t seen Regina, broken and alone. Like she was, too.

So it was empathy that flooded Emma’s features as she gazed across the room. And a sympathetic smile curved her lips as she saw Regina’s features, sharp in the firelight.

“Henry’s a kid,” she began. “He thinks like a kid and feels like a kid. This idea he’s got in his head about you and me…it makes sense to him right now. But it doesn’t mean it’s going to last forever.”

“Oh,” Regina rolled her eyes, “more parenting lessons from someone who’s been a mother for all of five minutes. Wonderful.”

“He says these things to hurt you in the moment. He doesn’t think them through — no kid does. Henry has very fixed ideas about Storybrooke; he has them about you and me, for god’s sake!” Lifting her eyebrows, Emma nodded her head over to Regina.

The Mayor blinked at her, impassive.

“I mean, do you honestly think that you’re the Evil Queen and I’m a white knight?” Emma scoffed.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” Regina hissed over the rim of her glass. “Henry believes it and it’s ruining our relationship.”

She looked at Emma, hating how she felt about her. Hating how hope had almost flown anew into sunnier skies. As their eyes met, Regina glowered at what she saw. No; her skies must necessarily be dark and ominous, filled with the portents that she herself put there. She was, after all, the product of a blackness that could never be eradicated. It shone like onyx in her gaze as she stared at Emma across the room.

What sort of White Knight could Emma Swan possibly be? She had no honor, no title, no standing. She would lie and cheat to win Regina’s heart and then cast it away like forgotten treasure. She would strip the Mayor of everything she had worked so hard to gain — all that she’d sacrificed would count for nothing.

“You,” Regina said quietly, “are ruining my relationship with my son.”

“I’m not,” Emma said, getting to her feet. “And tomorrow, when you’ve sobered up and think this through, you’ll see that Henry is really struggling with this. He’s got two moms and a head full of fantasy that helps him cope. But it will pass.”

Regina snorted in derision, tossing her head and turning back to the fire once more.

“I agreed to let you see my son, Miss Swan,” she said brusquely. “I didn’t agree to therapy sessions so, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone.”

Nodding, Emma walked towards the doorway. “Of course,” she shrugged, turning to cast a rueful glance at Regina. “Of course you do,” she added. “But Henry needs you, Regina. That kid needs you to be a mom while he needs to be a kid. And none of that includes you drinking alone in your study.”

Taking a short breath, Emma looked at the lone figure in the chair and her heart clenched with a sudden desire to go to Regina, to offer some comfort. Balling her hands into fists, she fought to resist it. She had Henry. That would have to be enough.

“You have to forgive him,” she said gently, seeing how her words drew lines across Regina’s face. “If you love him, you have to forgive him, Regina.”

Henry’s face lit up into bright colors of happiness as Emma slid around his door and moved to sit on the end of his bed. The book of fairytales that he’d been poring over fell from his lap and he scrambled across the bed to throw his arms around the blonde. Awkwardly, she returned the hug, wondering at the simple pleasure it gave her. She’d never really had much physical affection in her life — intimacy was derived from care, after all, and she’d never really had much of that, either.

“I thought my mom wasn’t going to let you come see me,” Henry said, extricating himself from Emma’s tight grasp and sitting back on the bed.

Emma thought of Regina, downstairs and alone, hurt and angry. She frowned at Henry and tilted her head onto one side.

“Listen, kid,” she said gently, “about your mom…”

Henry’s features clouded and he frowned at Emma. “She told you, didn’t she?”

“Well, yeah,” Emma nodded. She searched his face for regret, compassion, anything that might resolve the nagging sense of guilt in her chest. She didn’t want Henry to love her if it meant shattering the fragile relationship he had with Regina. For all the reasons why he should, the fact still remained that his adopted mother was quite desperate for his love, above all others, it seemed.

It bothered her that she even cared.

“I can’t let people say bad things about you,” Henry said, bringing Emma’s gaze to rest on his features, screwed up in contemplation.

“Henry, people are gonna say bad things,” Emma told him. “You can’t beat the crap out of them all.”

Sighing, she reached out for his hand and clasped it between her own. He was so small and defenseless; so innocent and tied up in his notions of good and evil. And the world was so much bigger than the one he’d created for himself. She glanced briefly at the book on the bed. His was a world where clarity was easy.

Not like this one, where confusion reigned supreme.

“But I think it’s great that you wanted to be my hero,” she told Henry, needing to assuage the disappointment she saw in his eyes.

He gave her a half–hearted smile but his head hung down a little, whether in shame or reticence, she couldn’t tell. She squeezed his hand and peered into his face.

“Thing is, kid,” she said, “you kinda hurt your mom by telling her.”

Now his head lifted and Henry stared at her, irritation flashing through his gaze. “She hurts everyone, though! That’s what evil does, Emma!”

“Your mom is not evil,” she said calmly, even though Henry’s chin rose in defiance. “She’s not, Henry. She just has…” Her voice trailed away; she struggled to define precisely what Regina did or didn’t feel. If the woman felt anything at all. Sometimes it was so hard to tell that Emma felt adrift in the other woman’s presence. She didn’t much care for how that made her feel.

“She loves you, kid.” Emma settled for the shortest path towards what she really wanted to say. She met Henry’s eyes and nodded firmly. “She might not show it in the ways that other moms do, but she does.”

“But she’s — ”

“She loves you,” Emma repeated, her voice slow and deliberate over the words. For a moment, Henry stared at her, perplexed. Because she was supposed to be the White Knight, riding into town to save them all from Regina’s evil schemes. And if she wasn’t in a constant battle with the Mayor, then how could she possibly hope to fulfill his expectations of her?

Henry withdrew his hand from Emma’s grip and folded his arms over his chest. “She doesn’t,” he said, his bottom lip pushing out slightly. “She can’t. The Evil Queen can’t love anything or anyone. And she destroys the things that other people love.”

“I don’t think that’s true, Henry.”

“Which part?”

Emma blinked at him, startled. He really did believe that his mother was evil. That Regina, in a demonic rage, had cursed Storybrooke and everyone in it. It shone in his eyes: his resolute faith in the story he’d told himself in an effort to fix what was broken.

And weren’t they all that way, even if just a little?

“Henry, I don’t know what makes a good mom. I never had one growing up. But your mom has looked after you for ten years, and never stopped wanting to. So I can’t tell you that she’s evil because she never left you. Doesn’t that tell you something, at least?”

Henry’s shoulders drooped and he let out a begrudging sigh. “I guess,” he mumbled.

“Okay.” Emma patted his leg and got to her feet. “You need to get some rest.”

She was at the door when the sound of her name made her turn and she saw Henry sitting up on the bed, his hands clutching his precious book once more.

“You’re not gonna leave, are you?” His plaintive tone rang in her ears and she was seized by a rush of affection for the child she’d left so many years ago. Time yawned between them for a second and Emma blinked, the words in her mouth before she even had a chance to think them over.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she told him, her heart skipping a beat at the look of joy that passed over Henry’s face.

Part 20

Ruby had worked hard to perfect the mountainous ice–cream concoction she placed in front of Henry’s wide eyes. Emma had asked her to make something special for the boy and Ruby, initially reticent to do anything above and beyond her duties at the diner, had reluctantly agreed.

But the expression on Henry’s face right now was recompense enough. And Ruby found herself oddly delighted as she smiled down at Henry’s awestruck face. For the first time, she found pride in her work. And that hadn’t happened in…well, forever, she thought wryly.

Her gaze drifted to where Emma was sitting beside Henry, grinning at him. It wasn’t just Henry who seemed different since Emma had come to town. Everything seemed different, as though all the opportunities in the world had just opened up in front of the citizens of Storybrooke, willing them to take hold and seize their happiness.

Ruby had felt a lot of things in her life; a lot of disparately confusing emotions that compelled her to leave but prevented her doing so. But hope? Ruby hadn’t felt hope for such a long time that it had simply dissipated and floated away.

She’d felt trapped in Storybrooke forever, locked into a life with Granny that she hadn’t asked for and couldn’t change. But Emma Swan had come to town and, since then, Ruby had been hopeful that things could change. Because Emma Swan proved that life happened — not in the way anyone could ever anticipate or prepare for. But it happened, nonetheless. The mere fact that Emma, who had once told Ruby that she was always running from something, had made Storybrooke her home and was forging something real with Henry gave Ruby cause to hope.

It bloomed in her chest now as Emma looked over the counter at her and mouthed a silent ‘thank you’.

Ruby ducked her head and turned away, busying herself with another order further down the counter. It wouldn’t do to place too much of that feeling in Emma Swan. Storybrooke might be her home, but it still belonged to Regina and Mr Gold. It didn’t belong to Emma.

Not yet.

“Go on, kid,” Emma clapped Henry on the back. “What’s the matter?”

Henry looked up at her with a solemn expression on his face. “I’m not really supposed to eat candy,” he said.

Emma arched an eyebrow. “And since when has ice–cream been candy?”

They both gazed down at the large bowl in front of Henry. The dessert had been liberally sprinkled with chocolate, jelly beans and a plethora of such overwhelming sugary goodness that it made Emma’s teeth itch.

“Okay,” she said, grinning foolishly. “But I think I see a strawberry in there somewhere. That’s fruit, right? So if your mom asks, we’ll tell her it was a healthy dessert.”

Henry’s face broke into a smile and he picked up his spoon with relish, digging into the ice–cream mound in front of him. Patting him gently on the shoulder, Emma spun around on her stool, looking across the diner at the people gathered there, most of them faces she knew.

And then there was Mr Gold, sitting in a corner by the window, hand atop his cane in that old–fashioned demeanor he sometimes had. He was watching her. As she stared at him, he nodded and smiled. Emma noticed how his smiles never seemed to reach his eyes; how he smiled too much and too easily. She’d seen the absence of care before in black eyes that gazed at her that way; the eager curiosity contained in bottomless depths of darkness that wanted to know all about her.

Mr Gold rose to his feet and limped over to where she sat with Henry. Instinctively, and she had no idea why, Emma shifted slightly, shielding the boy with her body.

“Deputy Swan,” Mr Gold said, his mouth twisted into a serpentine smile. “How nice to see you.”

“Is it?” Emma squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye.

“It’s always nice to see a mother enjoying time with her son,” he remarked, his gaze sliding around her to where Henry was shoveling ice–cream into his mouth at quite a pace.

Emma frowned. She didn’t trust anyone at the best of times — never had. But even in the worst of times, she doubted that she would ever come to rely on Mr Gold. His fascination with the relationship she was tentatively forming with Henry was suspicious in and of itself. But his reputation gave more reason for concern. People seemed to fear him.

“Right,” she nodded to Mr Gold, sliding a little further in front of Henry as she did so. He’d stopped eating now and was peering around her with a look of hesitant trepidation on his face.

“Well,” Mr Gold nodded, a smile spreading over his lips once more. “You enjoy your time with him, won’t you?”

“Uh…sure,” Emma said slowly. “I intend to.”

Mr Gold’s smile widened and he appeared delighted with her response, as though he’d been searching for it all along. Turning, he made his way towards the door and it was only when the cheery tinkling of the bell sounded that Emma realized he’d left.

“I don’t like him.” Henry’s voice at her elbow made her turn and she offered what she hoped was a comforting smile of reassurance.

“Yeah, I don’t know if I like him either, kid,” she muttered.

“He’s part of the curse, I just know it.”

Emma leaned in as Henry lowered his voice to a conspiratorial tone. Now when she smiled at him it was indulgent and she picked up the spoon lying in front of her on the counter.

“So he’s on the evil side, then?” she asked, scooping up some ice–cream and sliding the spoon into her mouth.

Henry nodded, glancing around the diner to see who was listening. Satisfied that none of the other diners were eavesdropping, he took a short breath.

“I don’t know if he’s like, on the Evil Queen’s side, but he’s not good,” he whispered. “Everyone’s afraid of him.”

Emma spooned another mouthful of ice–cream past her lips and swallowed hastily. “Everyone?” she asked. “Or just you?” She hoped if she made light of it then it wouldn’t be real; that she wouldn’t continue to feel the same nagging sense of suspicion that she experienced over both Mr Gold and Regina.

Henry beamed up at her. “I don’t need to be afraid of him anymore,” he said through a wide smile.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that?”

“Because I have you now,” he said simply. “You’re the White Knight, Emma. You know, as well as being my mom.” Picking up his own spoon, Henry shoveled some of the dessert into his mouth with a flourish.

Emma frowned at him good–naturedly, a smirk playing around the corners of her mouth. “Eat your ice–cream, kid,” she said, nudging him with her elbow.

“Ice–cream?”

Both Henry and Emma turned to see Regina standing close by. The Mayor glanced at the dessert and then at the surprised faces opposite her. They were wearing the exact same expression and for a moment, Regina was taken aback by it. Then she felt a sharp stab of jealousy in her chest that shook her, trembling at her legs.

Rising up over it, Regina fixed them with an imperious gaze, nostrils flaring.

“It’s a treat,” Emma said before Regina could issue the various threats and warnings that she was undoubtedly summoning up.

“It’s good!” Henry piped up, and Regina lifted her chin, nodding slowly.

“Henry’s not really supposed to eat — ”

“Candy. I know,” Emma nodded. Her hand instinctively reached out and settled on Henry’s shoulder. “But it’s a treat, Regina.”

Regina wasn’t a woman who backed down easily. Or at all. But she heard the vague warning in Emma’s tone, the determination that had always drawn them together and constantly wrested them apart. And in looking at her son, Regina saw contentment on his face. She hadn’t seen that for a long time.

If she had to back down, then she supposed she might make an exception and do it today.

“Very well,” she said, noticing the flush of pleasure on Henry’s cheeks as he returned to his dessert with gusto.

If Emma was surprised, she didn’t show it. Instead, she moved closer to Regina and leaned in a little.

“Mr Gold,” she said in a low voice. “What’s his story?”

Regina blinked. “His story?” she echoed. “He’s a very powerful man in this town, Deputy. He owns most of it.”

“Is that why people are scared of him?”

Now Regina’s gaze flickered, her eyes showing something that glimmered in Emma’s line of vision. The Mayor blinked again, and it was gone.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, a smile spreading across her lips.

“Yeah, you do,” Emma growled. “There’s something not right about him. As Deputy, I want to — ”

“Poke your nose where it doesn’t belong,” Regina waved her hand in the air and silenced Emma, who shifted where she stood, becoming increasingly infuriated. There was that smile on Regina’s face; the pitch of her eyes sticky and black. Just like Gold’s.

“I know you’re acting in what you consider to be the best interests of the sheriff’s office,” The Mayor remarked in a somewhat bored tone.

“But enquiring into Mr Gold’s affairs won’t end well, dear,” she added, her tone laced with an icy threat.

Her eyes met Emma’s once more but this time there was something else in them, something that gave warmth to their darkness. It licked like a flame in Emma’s stomach, flooding her with unexpected want. She found Regina desirable, but never more so than when she was burning with the electricity that passed between them.

Strange, that it should be in Regina’s darkest moments that Emma wanted her the most.

“Don’t make an enemy of Mr Gold,” Regina whispered. Emma didn’t know whether it was a warning or a temptation that she simply couldn’t resist.

Head jerking back on her neck, she shook her head dismissively and watched as Regina’s mouth curved into a perfect smile, lips parted to show her teeth.

“I don’t need Mr Gold as an enemy,” Emma said, gathering herself a little. “I have you.”

Now she smiled brightly and was gratified to see a frown flit across Regina’s brow. Satisfied with herself, Emma nodded, folding her arms proudly across her chest.

Regina hitched her bag up over her shoulder and looked past Emma towards her son.

“Come on, Henry,” she said, “it’s time to go home. No more candy today.”

Downcast, Henry jumped off the stool at the counter and picked up his backpack, sighing heavily. Reaching around Emma, Regina grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards her until she could slide a possessive arm around his shoulders. He looked up at Emma with wide eyes and she shot him a sympathetic smile, hitching her shoulders.

“See you tomorrow, Henry,” Emma bent forwards and ruffled his hair. Straightening up, she offered Regina a tiny smile. “See you tomorrow, too, Madame Mayor.”

Regina’s eyes narrowed and she was on the verge of saying something before she appeared to think better of it. Instead, she gave Emma a curt nod and, pushing Henry in front of her, left the diner.

Emma flopped onto Mary Margaret’s bed and lifted her hands, cushioning her head on them. The schoolteacher paused in folding her laundry for a moment, taking in the sight of Emma’s weary eyes and smiled gently.

“Everything okay?” she enquired, dropping the sweater she was holding and picking up another piece of laundry, turning it over in her hands.

Letting out a groan, Emma glared at Mary Margaret before she began to laugh pitifully at herself.

“I would give my left arm to feel somewhere remotely in the vicinity of ‘okay’,” she said. Pulling her hands out from behind her head, she rolled onto one side and propped herself up on one arm.

“Is it Regina?”

“When isn’t it?” Emma intoned. Mary Margaret said nothing, but the hardening line of her lips indicated that she both acknowledged and appreciated Emma’s mixed feelings towards the Mayor. She’d been taught to forgive, and Mary Margaret’s instincts were to do just that. Even if Regina had threatened her; even if she ruled this town with a heavy hand and never failed to let people know it. Yes, even then, she’d been taught to forgive.

So it was with that in mind that Mary Margaret placed the final piece of laundry on its pile and turned her full attention onto Emma Swan. Even a white knight needed a helping hand some of the time, she thought with a faint smile. Henry and his stories might have brought Emma to Storybrooke, but Mary Margaret knew that it was because of forgiveness that she’d stayed. If only to seek it for herself.

“She agreed to let you see Henry regularly,” Mary Margaret said tentatively, a hopeful smile on her face. “I mean, that’s good, right?”

“Of course it is,” Emma grunted. “It’s just…it’s her, you know? The woman drives me crazy.”

Mary Margaret ducked her head, stifling the chuckle that rose in her throat. She couldn’t help it. Emma’s disconsolate expression was just like Henry’s. It was quite endearing.

“Regina’s perhaps not the easiest person to get to know,” she said tactfully. “And I know you and she haven’t always seen eye to eye on things. On…some things. I mean there’s that whole ‘you and her’ thing that I really don’t understand but…”

She almost blushed, patting at the pile of laundry in a distracted manner. Mary Margaret had lived in Storybrooke all her life; it felt as though Regina had been Mayor for all that time too, in some ways. The woman was indomitable, an omniscient force in their town.

But in all that time, Mary Margaret had never seen the Mayor so displaced. And it was the little things she noticed: a smile towards Emma, the lingering of Regina’s gaze when the Deputy was around. The Mayor had even acknowledged Emma as Henry’s birth mother and was prepared to relent slightly in her avid control of him.

She may not know how to play the game of love for herself, but it didn’t mean that Mary Margaret was unable to see it in the lives of others. Even if they were blind to it.

“You know,” Emma said suddenly, Mary Margaret snapping to attention, “I just wish I knew what happened to her to make her so angry at everyone.”

“Whatever it was,” the schoolteacher said, “it happened a long time ago. She’s been on her own for as long as I can remember. Until Henry came along.”

Rolling over and propping her head up on one hand, Emma frowned. “She really cares about him, though. I’ve seen it. I just don’t know…”

“If she cares about you?”

Emma’s eyes widened in horror and she sat upright on the bed. “What? No!” Shaking her head violently, the blonde gazed at Mary Margaret in offended surprise before leaping from the bed and pacing back and forth on the floor.

“It’s not — not about that,” she muttered, teeth nibbling at her thumbnail. “That was just…it was just something that I — anyway, we agreed it’s over now.”

“You agreed?” Mary Margaret blinked up at Emma. “But I thought you two were…”

She dipped her head as a she received a blistering glare from Emma. But Mary Margaret couldn’t resist the urge to smile. The games of love, she thought to herself. Regina and Emma didn’t even know they were players.

“We were. Regina said it was too confusing or…or something. I don’t know!” Emma paced furiously in front of the bed, throwing up her hands in anxiety.

“Too confusing for Henry or for her?” Mary Margaret lifted her head, eyes solemn.

Emma stopped pacing and fixed the schoolteacher with a hard gaze, one that was unrelenting in its denial.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she said in a low voice, already anticipating the answer she didn’t want to her.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret said kindly, gathering the stack of clean laundry into her arms and rising from the bed, “we can’t help who we fall in love with. Even if they’re the last person we would have chosen for ourselves.”

Sighing, she frowned, thinking of David Nolan and the dreams she’d harbored of the two of them together; dreams that seemed more like memories, they’d appeared so vividly in her head.

“But it’s hard not to feel that way about them, especially when you’ve seen their heart.” She smiled almost foolishly before catching herself and abruptly turning, walking into the living room.

Following her, Emma threw out her arms. “Oh yeah, I’ve seen Regina’s heart alright. It’s as black as her soul. I don’t even know if she’s capable of love beyond Henry. But I…” she jabbed a thumb into her chest, “could never love someone like that.”

“Even though you’re expecting Henry to,” Mary Margaret placed the laundry down on top of a huge wicker basket and turned to face Emma, clasping her hands together. “And this isn’t really about how Regina feels, is it? It’s about how you feel.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Emma said sharply.

Mary Margaret nodded and hugged her arms around her body. “Maybe not to you,” she mused. “But it might matter to Regina.”

Emma’s gaze roamed over her features and she offered the blonde a quick smile of encouragement. One thing she’d learned about Emma Swan was that the woman needed to work through things in a linear fashion, lining up evidence in her head until she had proof positive.

She was pacing in front of Mary Margaret right now, frowning and biting down hard on her nail. The schoolteacher watched her for a minute, then stepped forwards, putting her hand on Emma’s arm.

“There’s nothing wrong in it,” she said softly. Emma turned to look at her, sorrow tugging at her mouth and swimming in her eyes. Mary Margaret smiled in empathy.

“There’s nothing wrong in feeling that way,” she told Emma.

“But I don’t want to,” Emma whispered. “Not about her. There’s something missing — some part of her that’s gone. And I just…god, I just want to run away from trying to put it back.”

She shook her head, frowning, as Mary Margaret’s arm slid around her shoulders. Leaning against the comforting form of the other woman, Emma let out a long sigh.

“And you know how she is,” Emma said disconsolately. “She’d rip out my heart first rather than open up her own.”

“You don’t know until you try,” the schoolteacher said kindly.

“That’s just it,” Emma whispered sadly. “I kind of do. The look in her eyes sometimes…it’s like there’s nothing there. So it doesn’t matter how I feel,” she turned to face Mary Margaret, lips twisting over the admission.

“If Regina can’t feel anything back, then there’s no point, is there?”

Part 21

Emma had taken to letting herself into Regina’s house. The Mayor had given her a key — under great duress from Henry — and now her house was as open to Emma as her heart was closed. She’d decided that both of those decisions, all things considered, were probably for the best.

It didn’t come as a great surprise to Regina that when she returned home from work, late in the evening due to some needlessly bureaucratic meeting she’d had to attend, Emma’s cruiser was parked outside her house in what the Mayor considered a somewhat proprietorial manner.

Regina didn’t like it.

Dropping her keys onto table near the door, Regina paused, looking at herself in the mirror on the wall. Her reflection never lied to her, but it had always told her what she needed to hear. Pushing at her hair, the Mayor glared at herself. She’d been beautiful forever but now the cracks were beginning to show. Her fingertip lingered around her eyes and down at the edges of her mouth.

She’d frozen this world and everyone in it for eternity until she could have what she’d lost. In cursing her world, she’d created a new one so she could have her happy ending, locked in an icy grasp for evermore.

Regina’s hand dropped by her side. But it wasn’t working. She didn’t have her happy ending. Not the one she’d stolen for, cursed for, killed for.

And time was no longer frozen in Storybrooke. It inched forwards now, every strike of the town clock like a death knell in Regina’s ears. For what was once frozen was now melting in a slow drip around her heart.

Wearily, Regina walked towards the study. At the door, she stopped and sucked in a fortifying breath. She was in no mood for Emma’s games tonight. In fact, she’d done her level best to avoid the Deputy. It was becoming difficult to be around Emma. Not that she’d ever admit that, of course.

Striding forcefully into the room, Regina spotted Emma in one of the armchairs with a glass of apple cider on the table beside her. The Deputy was buried in a book spread wide on her lap, hair hanging down to shield her face from Regina’s gaze.

“I thought you’d be in here,” the Mayor commented, closing the door behind her and moving to pour herself a glass of cider.

Looking up, Emma blinked at Regina as though the Mayor had appeared from nowhere. Then, grinning self–consciously, she closed the book on her lap with a thud, sliding it between her leg and the chair as Regina sat down opposite her.

“I like it in here,” she commented, as Regina sipped at her cider. “It’s less Evil Queen than some of the other rooms.”

Regina rolled her eyes as Emma smirked. It was easy, sometimes, to dismiss the references to Henry’s stories that Emma was so fond of making, tempting to convince herself that the world of fairytales wasn’t true. That she hadn’t condemned herself to this life, but was merely trying to live it; to exist.

Her eyes fell to the book by Emma’s side and she gestured at it.

“Reading yourself a story before bedtime, Miss Swan?”

“Very funny,” Emma commented dryly. “I was trying to figure out what’s going on with Henry. These stories…” She shook her head and picked up her glass. “They’re not the most traditional fairytales I’ve read, that’s for sure.”

“For the last time,” Regina lifted her glass to her lips, “there’s nothing wrong with Henry. And I would avoid an interest in fairytales, dear.”

Leaning forwards in her chair, Regina’s mouth curved in a wicked smile and she caught Emma’s eye. “You do know they’re not real, don’t you?” she whispered loudly.

“But Henry believes they are,” Emma responded sharply. They locked gazes for a moment that hung achingly between them. Regina’s gaze was dark but Emma could see a fire burning deep within them. Suddenly she knew. She felt the realization lingering on her skin like a caress and shivered under its spell.

Regina still wanted her.

But the Mayor nodded abruptly, sitting back in her chair and crossing one graceful leg over the other. She smiled widely at the blonde, her mask firmly in place once more.

“Well,” Regina said, placing her glass with deliberate slowness on the side table, “thank you for waiting in with Henry.” She rose to her feet, gesturing towards the door in abject dismissal.

A little bewildered, Emma got up and walked towards the door. It was only when she reached it that she turned and faced Regina, close on her heels. The Mayor was still smiling and it irritated Emma beyond belief.

“Stop doing that,” she growled.

“Stop doing what, dear?” Regina adopted a frown of mock concern and Emma clenched her fists by her sides, infuriated.

“Pretending like everything is okay,” Emma spat.

Regina blinked, head jerking back on her neck. Moving around Emma, she reached for the handle on the door, fingers closing firmly around it.

“Everything is okay,” she said, but her back was to Emma so the other woman couldn’t see the consternation on her face. “You spent time with Henry, just as you wanted. And now he’s safely asleep in bed. What on earth is there to pretend about?”

Two hands on her shoulders spun her around and for a moment, Regina was almost frightened by the look in Emma’s eyes. They were close, bodies almost flush against one another. Regina could feel Emma’s breath on her cheek, sweet from the cider and almost as intoxicating.

“Miss Swan — ” she began, but Emma’s fingers tightened on her and Regina found that words were snatched from her mouth.

“Don’t ‘Miss Swan’ me,” Emma hissed, staring into Regina’s eyes. “I told you: the more you keep pushing me, the harder I’m going to push back.”

“Yes,” Regina nodded. “It’s one of your more irritating habits. One of many.” She lifted her chin defiantly.

“And one of yours is being so wrapped up in the little world you’ve created here that you can’t see…can’t see anything!” Emma let go of Regina, pushing the other woman back against the door with a faint thud. Throwing up her hands, she glared at the Mayor but it was resentment and hurt that fueled her gaze as anger dissipated to something far more enduring. Something far more painful that Emma had wished she would never have to feel again.

“All I see is a woman who is really beginning to overstep the line.” Regina’s voice was a knife’s edge, cutting into Emma as the Mayor tugged on her jacket, straightening crumples that Emma had caused. Irritation tugged at Regina’s mouth. She wasn’t ready for this. She didn’t want it.

But Emma? Oh, she wanted Emma with every fiber of her being. She always had. In all the ways that the Deputy tried her patience and attempted to weaken her resolve, Regina also knew that it was because she and Emma were the same, deep down. That finally, there was someone in Storybrooke who might even begin to understand her pain.

“Overstep the line?” Emma repeated incredulously. “Regina, you’ve done nothing but draw lines for as long as I’ve known you. It’s pretty hard to overstep something when you don’t even know it’s there.”

“Which doesn’t speak particularly highly of your detective skills,” Regina countered, her eyes thunderous. “I thought you were supposed to be good at finding things, Deputy Swan.”

The lazy, satisfied smirk across her mouth was the incendiary to Emma’s anger, grumbling under the surface for too long. Leaping forwards, Emma pushed Regina back against the door to the study. This time, the Mayor’s body hit the wood with such force that she let out a surprised gasp of air.

Emma’s face pushed up against her own and Regina was momentarily blinded by the hard light shining in the blonde’s eyes. Blinking, she struggled to regain herself, arms reaching up to grab at Emma’s leather jacket.

“What on earth do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, gasping for air.

“You think you know everything about me, don’t you?” Emma snarled, fire leaping through her veins. “You’ve got all the records, all the files. You’ve even written all the fairytales you think Storybrooke needs to know about me.” She shook Regina, barely noticing how the other woman began to sag in her grasp.

“You’re cruel and hurtful, especially when you don’t need to be,” Emma continued in a husked tone. “And god knows someone should have tried to stop you being that way before me, but I guess I’m just an idiot who believes that there’s something good in you, somewhere really, really deep down. Because I’ve seen you, Regina. And you’re not the Mayor of Storybrooke then, or the Evil Queen that Henry thinks you are.”

Regina felt her throat tighten. She so desperately wanted to put her faith in Emma’s words; she wanted to believe that time could change someone. Time that moved onwards, just as people did. But vengeance, always at her back, whispered platitudes in her ear and told her to ignore Emma.

She wished she didn’t have to listen.

But, as always, she did.

“Now who thinks they know everything about someone?” she drawled, straightening up against the door. “I do so detest your unerring sense of misplaced confidence.”

“Yeah?” Emma was upon her again, shoving her against the door. Regina winced as the ridged wood cut into her back, but met Emma’s eyes with a challenging glare.

“And I can’t stand how fucking righteous you are,” Emma growled, teeth gritted. “I see you, Regina.” Her hand released Regina’s shoulder and slid down over the impeccably tailored suit to dart underneath the lapel, fingers closing over a silk–clad breast.

Despite herself, despite her intentions and efforts, Regina’s nipple hardened and she moaned softly, head bumping back against the door.

“I see you when you’re like this,” Emma breathed, her mouth moving to press against Regina’s neck. “I see you when you think nobody’s looking. When you forget to be whoever it is you think can protect you from everything.”

Now Regina struggled, curling her fingers around Emma’s arms and tugging at the leather jacket. She pushed the other woman a few inches backwards and scowled at her with unreserved dislike.

“The only thing I need protection from,” she said slowly, “is you. Henry’s violent proclivities are clearly hereditary and I suggest if you’re going to hurt me, you get it over and done with, Miss Swan. I’ve had quite enough of your games.”

“Hurt you? I don’t want to hurt you.” Emma’s eyes widened in horror and her grip lessened a little.

“Don’t you?” Regina’s eyes were suspicious, almost tearful. For a moment, it seemed as though Emma already had.

Emma pushed at Regina again, pressing herself against the other woman. Her hand moved upwards, sliding underneath Regina’s jacket. And she felt herself drawn to the blackness in Regina’s eyes, drawn to the dark light in them, too.

“Not in the way you think,” she murmured, as her lips touched Regina’s.

The Mayor exhaled, her eyes fluttering shut. Her fingers released their hold of Emma’s jacket and slid up into tumbling curls of blonde hair. It would be easy to surrender to this and allow herself the luxury of intimacy. She’d only ever found it in fleeting moments, when she could indulge in the touch of her lovers and believe that their passion was real.

But this? This was more real than she’d known in a long time; so long ago and far away that memories slipped into dreams and half–forgotten pledges. More than that, she knew this was real because it pierced into the heart of her, wakening her senses and bringing her to life. It was an evolution that Regina had resisted, but now it was all–encompassing and she had no powers with which to stop it.

Emma’s mouth moved to her neck and Regina’s hold on blonde curls tightened, eliciting a whimper of pleasure from the lips on her skin.

“I know you, Regina,” Emma muttered, sending vibrations of desire across Regina’s skin and down her body. “I know you need this.” She shoved her leg between Regina’s, the Mayor’s skirt riding halfway up her thighs.

“I don’t need you,” Regina growled, but her voice was thick and guttural. She pulled on Emma’s hair again, forcing the other woman’s head back. “I don’t want you,” she added, breathless.

One of Emma’s hands reached down, scraping up the inside of Regina’s thigh to flatten against wet heat. Again she smirked; again, Regina felt the pang of lust and want and fear tumbling into a hard point inside her. Unable to stop herself, she pushed herself against Emma’s caress, a ragged breath falling from her lips.

“Yeah, I can tell,” Emma said, her tone light, but her eyes darkening to a more dangerous hue. She felt Regina’s fingers move against her scalp, felt the roll of the other woman’s hips, felt her own heart beat a little faster now.

“I don’t need you either,” she said, meeting Regina’s gaze and holding it for a whirling moment. “And I sure as hell don’t like you.”

Regina shifted, a hoarsened breath coming from her throat as Emma’s fingers moved against her. But she smiled and her hands buried themselves deeper into Emma’s hair.

“Good,” she said, pulling the other woman to her. “You’re not supposed to.”

Their mouths crashed against one another, Emma’s fingers plunging past lace underwear and into glorious, sticky warmth. Regina arched against the door, thrusting herself onto Emma’s touch. It was good; too good. Too much and too desperate. It was benediction and damnation all at once.

Emma’s mouth dragged a line across her cheek, tongue dancing across skin and whirling around Regina’s pulse point, babbling nonsense into her head. Emma’s fingers plunged deeper now, harder and with an insistent rhythm. Clutching at the blonde, Regina cared little for her wrinkled skirt, or the jacket that was falling from her shoulders. She wanted to be torn apart like this, unraveled and free. Beating madly against her ribcage, Regina’s heart began to ache; she cried out for pity and forgiveness.

A hand over her mouth muffled her moans and she opened her eyes to see Emma staring at her and shaking her head. Leaning forwards, she placed her lips against Regina’s ear and laughed softly.

“Ssh,” she murmured. “You don’t want to wake Henry, do you? Have him see you like this? Feel his disappointment?”

It was cruel. She knew it was cruel. But as Regina groaned against her hand, Emma felt the woman sway against her, rocking on her fingers. And she laughed again; she couldn’t help it.

“I know you save this just for me,” she said as they began to move again, their bodies flush against one another, breasts, stomach, hips all pushing against one another. She felt Regina’s body clench around her fingers and let out a gasp of want, only half–understanding the rush of emotion in her gut: she wanted to be inside Regina forever, always.

“Don’t…” Regina muttered, lips pressed against Emma’s palm. But it was hard to define whether Regina was begging her to stop, or begging her to never stop.

“This is mine, Regina,” Emma whispered, increasing her pace, Regina’s body starting to tremble against her own. She buried her face in the other woman’s neck, biting down softly on the soft flesh there.

Regina rose up, one arm snaking around Emma’s back underneath her jacket. Her fingertips pressed into the warm body of the blonde for a moment as she froze, eyes open, soul naked. Sucking in lungfuls of air, she turned her head to see Emma’s hand outstretched on the door, fingernails scratching lightly at the wood.

The moment flooded over her in waves of light and color. She kept her eyes open until the final second, until she couldn’t anymore and, squeezing them tight, Regina gave herself over to it. Warmth and peace and joy and all the things she’d denied herself for so long exploded in her chest and she held on to Emma like a drowning woman, lest she was pulled under and carried to the bottom.

Riding out the tempest inside her, Regina knew that this was Emma’s. And desperately, achingly, so was she.

“It’s times like this I wish I smoked,” Regina commented, propping her head up on one hand and tugging at the linen sheet which had become rucked up around her legs. Sliding it over her hips, she looked at the body beside her and couldn’t prevent a moue of displeasure pulling at her lips.

“Are you even awake?” She reached out and prodded a naked shoulder with her forefinger.

Emma mumbled something unintelligible and lifted her head, glaring at Regina.

“Not really,” she groaned, dropping it back into the pillow again.

Regina smiled. It felt unusual on her mouth; different to all the other times she’d smiled at lovers. Her hand moved out, resting gently on Emma’s shoulder, fingers splaying out on the skin there. She moved it downwards, over the muscles that twitched under her touch, just beneath Emma’s shoulders; further down, to where the blonde’s body curved at the waist before blossoming out into smooth buttocks. Regina’s fingers followed every dip, every camber, fluttering over skin that was still shining from their lovemaking.

“Mmm.” Emma lifted her head again, looking up at Regina with something like gratitude in her gaze. “That’s nice,” she said softly.

Regina’s hand stopped in its path and she lifted her fingers from Emma’s skin, looking first into the blonde’s eyes and then at her own hand; it had betrayed her and she hadn’t even noticed. She blinked, staring at it before snatching it back against her body.

“I didn’t say stop,” Emma’s voice was almost plaintive and Regina couldn’t resist a smile.

“I’m the Evil Queen, remember?” Regina leaned forwards and lowered her voice to a stage whisper, lifting her eyebrows threateningly. “I enjoy torturing my victims.”

Emma rolled onto her side and looked up at Regina. “For someone with no sense of humor,” she said drolly, “you’ve got this whole joking thing down pat.”

“Hm.” Regina shifted on the bed, making herself more comfortable. “Who says I’m joking?” she drawled. Emma’s leg bumped against hers under the sheet and Regina inched her own limb away. Seconds later, Emma’s leg touched her own once more.

This time, Regina didn’t move. There was something to be said for the warmth of human contact, after all.

“Seriously, though,” Emma said, pulling at the sheet and moving a little closer to Regina, “this whole thing with Henry…that’s not funny.”

“He thinks you’re a hero,” Regina sniffed, glancing at Emma. “And that I’m evil. I fail to find amusement in that, I can assure you.”

“Hey, come on.” Emma slid her hand onto Regina’s hip underneath the sheet and squeezed comfortingly. “We can work on that, right? You’re not evil,” she scoffed, but Regina’s face remained somewhat forlorn and she looked away from Emma’s gaze for a moment.

“Henry just needs to see that,” Emma continued, shrugging. “I mean, you love him, right?”

Regina’s hand covered Emma’s, stilling its movement. “The fact that you have to ask,” she began huffily, “means that you have no — ”

“Idea who you are, I know,” Emma interjected wearily. Shaking her head a little, she looked down at their hands, separated only by a thin sheet. “If you love him, Regina, then show it. Every time he pulls away from you or says something horrid, show it. Sometimes you just have to, you know, love someone until they get it.”

She paused, teeth worrying at her lower lip. “Until they see it,” she added in a quiet voice.

Emma gazed up at Regina, wondering at the pain she saw on shadowed features. There was so much of it, she thought, and it was achingly beautiful to witness. Even in the dimmed light of the bedroom, Emma saw the hurt in Regina’s eyes, flooding out across her face in anxious contemplation.

Regina blinked, eyes misting before focusing on Emma. Darting forwards, she cupped the other woman’s face in her hand and kissed her hard on the lips. Letting out a note of surprise, Emma returned it, her own pain rising to mingle with the thrill of Regina’s mouth on hers.

Leaning back, they simply stared at one another for a long moment.

“If that’s how you’re going to end all our conversations then the town is probably going to get gossipy,” Emma breathed out a faint laugh. She saw by the frown on Regina’s brow that she’d said absolutely the wrong thing. Outside of these walls, Regina didn’t want this to exist. She couldn’t allow it to. Emma sighed; that point had been made perfectly clear to her on more than one occasion.

“The town is already gossipy,” Regina stated, saying the last word with disdain. She rolled over onto her back and laid an arm across her face for a second. “I shouldn’t care but I do. I’m the Mayor. I care what people think about Henry and about…”

She removed her arm and turned to look at Emma. “And his relationship with me,” she finished, blinking over the lie.

“So…is this going to happen again?” Emma waved a hand over the bed. She half–squinted across at Regina, both anticipating the worst and chiding herself for asking for it. But Henry had told her that heroes never gave up and tonight, Emma pledged to herself, she would pretend to be the hero. And she wouldn’t give up for as long as she remained in Regina’s bed.

Underneath the sheet, Regina edged closer to Emma and reached out for the other woman again. This time, their kiss was slow and deliberate; Regina’s lips hovering inches from Emma’s before they finally touched. A low hum of appreciation buzzed in Emma’s throat and her fingers instinctively crept across Regina’s skin, lingering for a moment over the swell of her belly.

Moving back, Regina settled back onto the bed. Her eyes shone with curiosity as she stared at Emma, a frown furrowing her brow.

“But you can’t stay,” Regina said, her nod of acquiescence bringing a smile to Emma’s face. She lifted a finger and tapped it gently against Emma’s shoulder. “Henry mustn’t know.”

“Not yet,” Emma said helpfully, her heart sinking as she saw the panicked expression on Regina’s face. Instinctively, she swept up in the bed, throwing a leg over Regina’s thighs and straddling her. Tendrils of blonde hair tickled over Regina’s chest as she felt Emma’s fingers around her upper arms, pinning her against the bed.

“I’m going to end the conversation now,” Emma whispered as she descended onto Regina, a gratified moan in her throat as she pressed down with her hips. The gasp that emerged over the other woman’s lips fled past Emma’s cheek as she kissed Regina. There was nothing between them now, only the friction of skin on skin as Emma moved over Regina. Only murmured pleas and whispered promises that Regina knew would fade in the light of day to absent memories.

But she surrendered to Emma anyway. Because when she felt the other woman’s body on her own, lips on her own and heart beating against her own, what else could she do?

Part 22

The sheriff’s office wasn’t very busy. Ever. Emma had realized that on her third day of working there. Graham was adept at shuffling papers around his desk but most of them were part of a smoke and mirrors act that he’d perfected. In comparison with the previous profession she’d fallen into and found she was rather good at, being a Deputy in Storybrooke would have given cause for consternation among her peers.

But life happened, as she kept telling herself. A life she had always abjured in favor of a lonely existence without end, happy or otherwise. Emma had never chased that sort of life because, deep down, she told herself that she didn’t deserve it. That she’d handed over any chance of happiness when she’d placed her son into the arms of a stranger.

It was only through knowing Henry — through loving him — that she had begun to consider the possibility of her own happy ending. She’d missed so much of his life that now all she wanted to do was immerse herself in it. The desire to run was increasingly infrequent in her heart; the inherent need to be a mother overwhelming it.

Reaching for her coffee, Emma lifted the mug to her lips and sipped at the satisfyingly rich liquid. Past lives and past deeds were already done; there was little point in beating herself up over them.

But that was precisely what she did, every time she saw Henry’s bright smile.

“You look content.”

Graham appeared on the opposite side of her desk and dropped heavily into the chair. Stretching out his legs, he eyed Emma with amused concern and tilted his head onto one side.

“Just taking pride in my work,” Emma quipped, lifting the coffee cup in a mock toast.

She met Graham’s eyes and he smiled at her, his eyes soft and kind. “It suits you,” he said gently.

Emma rolled her eyes and set her coffee cup down on her desk, leaning forwards onto her elbows. She couldn’t tell how much Graham really knew about why she appeared contented. But his eyes twinkled as he grinned at her and Emma found that it placated her a little. Besides, she wasn’t really sure that she cared what people knew.

It was Regina who was reticent. She was adamant that Henry must remain ignorant of whatever it was they were doing. Emma had snorted at the description, but she couldn’t help silently agreeing. Until Henry knew, nobody else should.

Easier said than done.

“Anyway,” Graham cleared his throat and Emma snapped to attention, realizing that she’d been lost in her own thoughts. He lifted his eyebrows and placed a file onto her desk. “I’ve been looking into Mr Gold’s affairs, like you requested.”

“And?” Emma pulled the file towards her and flipped open the cover, leafing through the scant information inside. She sighed ruefully and closed the file, glaring at it.

Graham gestured towards it. “Not much, as you can see,” he said.

Emma frowned. “There must be more than this!” She pushed at the file in disgust.

“If there is,” Graham responded, “then it’s hidden away somewhere in Storybrooke’s history. Mr Gold has been here for as long as I can remember. He pretty much owns this town.”

“And Regina runs it,” Emma murmured.

Nodding, Graham averted his gaze so that he wouldn’t have to look at the troubled expression on Emma’s face. She cared far more than she would ever confide in him; in fact, he wasn’t sure if Emma had trusted anyone enough to tell them what lay beneath her calm exterior. It was difficult to care about Regina Mills, but easy to allow her seduction to put the idea into one’s head. He’d fallen prey to it himself and been drawn into her circle for a while.

But he watched Emma now from the edge of that circle. Because she was at the center of it with Regina. And they were rounding on one another like enemies, clutching at one another like lovers. It was fearsome, a portent that he couldn’t quite place and it shook him to his core with an oncoming sense of dread.

It shivered down his back momentarily as he looked across the desk at Emma. Her insistence on investigating Mr Gold had struck him as odd until he’d pulled together all the information they had on the man. Graham had been surprised at what he found — only information he already knew, more or less.

The only information he could find to put in the file currently lying on Emma’s desk.

“He helped her get Henry, you know,” he commented, as Emma’s gaze flew to his face. He nodded. “Mr Gold can get you anything you want. It’s his business.”

Emma frowned, banging softly at the desk with her hand. “Doesn’t that strike you as odd? How did he help Regina get Henry, exactly?”

“He worked with an out of town adoption agency,” Graham shrugged. “We don’t have files on them.”

Emma rose, leaning back in her chair and staring at him. “Of course you don’t,” she muttered.

“I’m sure it was above board,” Graham said. “Regina wouldn’t be involved in anything like that. I mean, she’s the Mayor.”

Emma’s eyebrows lifted and she sighed deeply. She didn’t want Regina to be involved in anything with Mr Gold. The man gave Emma a creeping feeling of apprehension; she could sense it in the air around her like the onset of a storm, electric, oppressive.

So as she looked at Graham, it was with a sinking sense of realization that Regina’s involvement with Mr Gold didn’t bode well. Not for Regina, not for Emma and definitely not for the happy ending that Emma had briefly envisaged.

“We have to keep looking,” she said in a quiet voice, stilled by the suspicions she continue to harbor about Regina even though her heart tried to convince her otherwise. She looked over the desk at Graham and shrugged. “Something’s not right here,” she told him. “And we have to keep looking until we find out what it is.”

Shoving some papers to one side on her vast, ornate desk, Regina sighed. Her mind wasn’t on work. In an hour, she’d only pulled one file from the stack that her assistant had left on her desk. Every time she tried to turn her attentions to the trivialities of running Storybrooke, she found herself distracted and lacking in motivation.

She’d never found it hard to summon up a sense of purpose before, even when she had found herself as Mayor of Storybrooke, its denizens living under her care and ministration. Regina had often wondered how it came to this; her dark spellcasting had plunged her into a world in which she was responsible for others. A world in which her duty was for the care of others.

Regina rose from her desk and walked across her office, coming to a halt in front of the huge mirror on the wall. Underneath it on a metal table there were drinks, as always. Her assistant was nothing if not meticulous about pleasing the Mayor, after all.

Pouring herself a glass of orange juice, Regina looked at herself in the mirror, just as she had so many hundreds of times before. Her eyes narrowed as she viewed her own reflection. She had changed almost everything about herself but the eyes…they always remained the same: guarded, resolute, fearful. The same eyes that had stared back at her in the dark, lonely castle that she had taken as her stronghold.

Storybrooke was meant to be her stronghold too, she thought, glancing down at the glass of orange juice in her hand and then replacing it onto the table. It was all rather ironic, really, that she had wanted to escape her wretched existence in the other world — and the people in it. But she had ended up here, somewhere more horrible than she could have ever dreamed of in the nightmarish visions that haunted her sleep.

Regina sighed at herself in the mirror, shaking her head. Magic always came at a price; it was the one rule they had all been held to in the other world. But she had paid so dearly that magic was all she’d had left. And she had wielded it with a forceful hand in order to get what she wanted — what she’d lost all those years ago. She just hadn’t considered external factors getting in the way.

The corner of her mouth twisted upwards in a faint smile at her own rationalization. External factors. Emma Swan. The complete and utter lack of control Regina had over her reaction to the other woman.

For so long, it had just been her and Henry. And, however difficult that relationship had proved to foster and maintain, it was there nonetheless. Regina clung to it, grasping it with desperate fingers so that he’d never leave her. Not the way everyone always did. And, for a while, she’d actually gleaned some semblance of comfort from Henry’s presence in her life, from her work in Storybrooke, even from the people who lived there.

She’d never really been happy, though. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that what she was experiencing was happiness, Regina knew that it wasn’t. The blackness in her heart had infected any good that might have sprung afresh; a disease running roughshod through her entire being.

All magic came at a price. But Regina had to wonder if the cost was sometimes too much to bear.

Turning from the mirror, she wandered back across her office towards her desk, dropping into the plush seat behind it. Emma Swan wasn’t just an external factor, she was a monumental nuisance. In every way. Regina’s lips tightened as her eyes fell to the framed photograph of Henry on her desk. Her son had been happier with Emma in his life, more involved in the routine Regina had created for him. Once or twice he’d even accepted her embrace without shrugging it off as he always used to.

Because of Emma’s presence in town, Henry had changed. He’d become the boy Regina always thought he might be. The boy she’d wanted so much.

Change had only ever happened before at her own behest. She had demanded it by the force of her mighty power but this…this was something unstoppable that not even the Evil Queen could control. An omen of unspeakable torture that Regina knew would ruin her completely, should she let it.

Leaning back in her chair, the Mayor cast a long look around her office, at the trappings of an ordinary life, lived by an extraordinary woman. It had been sufficient, for a while.

Then change happened. Emma happened. And Regina’s heart had begun to crack open.

“Madame Mayor.” A voice at the door cut into her thoughts and she looked towards it, grateful for the distraction. Her features hardened as Mr Gold limped slowly into the office, cane tapping on the floor as he moved forwards. He turned slowly, shutting the door with deliberate care before he faced Regina, smiling.

“Can I help you, Mr Gold?” Regina said dismissively, reaching for the papers on her desk again and shuffling them, creating a busy air.

Mr Gold stopped at the other side of her desk, grinning down at her with wicked benevolence.

“I should say you can, Madame Mayor,” he said, placing his cane in front of him and resting both hands on top of it. “It’s been brought to my attention that the Sheriff has taken an interest in my affairs.”

Regina’s eyebrows rose imperceptibly as she met Mr Gold’s gaze and sat back in her chair, leaning her elbows on its arms.

“I’m sure Graham must have his reasons,” she told him.

Mr Gold nodded. “Which appear to be the insistence of Deputy Swan,” he said slowly, noticing how Regina’s gaze flickered, how her hands clasped one another, fingers pressing hard. His smile widened.

“She’s rather taken to her new position in Storybrooke, don’t you think?” he suggested mildly, while his eyes gleamed with knowledge gained. “And while I admire her inquisitive nature, I’d prefer not to be on the receiving end of it.”

Regina’s nostrils flared irritably, but she looked up at the man on the other side of her desk without blinking. A tiny flame of concern sparked in her belly and she clenched her teeth together, wanting to extinguish it.

“I’m afraid I have no veto over investigations that the Sheriff’s office carry out,” she said politely.

Mr Gold laughed and nodded. “Of course,” he said gently. “I expected you to toe the party line when it came to Emma Swan.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Regina barked, unable to quash her growing sense of fearful anger.

“Oh, just that you’ve never backed down from exerting your control over Storybrooke before,” Mr Gold shrugged. “You might want to be careful, Regina. You’re losing your touch.”

The Mayor stood, shoving her chair back and planting her hands onto her desk, leaning over it. She glared at Mr Gold with undisguised antipathy, his smile only serving to fan the fire in her chest.

“The Sheriff’s office is only a threat if you have something to hide, Mr Gold,” she told him. “And I have no affiliation to Deputy Swan for you to exploit, so I would appreciate you sparing me any references to such.”

“Ah,” Mr Gold nodded, drawing in a short breath. “I think the Mayor doth protest too much.” A sly smile crossed his lips and he met Regina’s defiant gaze for a moment, fingers tightening over his cane.

His eyes, though, were gimlet hard. There was a malevolence to them that flashed briefly for a moment: a greedy, desirous light that Regina couldn’t fail to notice. Lifting her chin, she stared at him. She’d seen that look before, in the very same eyes, only it had been matched by her own back then. They had been partners, after a fashion, drawn from the need for chaos and the lust for vengeance. In the other world, Mr Gold had been a creature drawn from the blackest magic that existed. And, for a second, it seemed as though that vile thing was standing before her once more.

“Let me make myself clear, Mr Gold,” she said in a low tone. “I will not be held to ransom by anyone in this town, especially not by you. Any affiliation,” she threw the word at him and watched as his mouth quirked in an acquiescent smirk, “that you and I had is over.”

“Is it indeed?” Mr Gold shrugged off her venomous tone and lifted his cane, turning to walk towards the door. Reaching it, he looked back at Regina and his eyes once more seemed to belong to an otherworldly creature; certainly not those of a simple shopowner.

“Make the investigation go away,” he said slowly, as Regina straightened, wrapping her arms around her body. “As you said, the Sheriff’s office is only a threat if you have something to hide. I would consider that enough of a deterrent to give you cause for concern, Regina.”

Now he half–bowed towards her, grasping the handle of the door and exiting her office with a polite nod of his head.

Left behind, Regina slowly sank into her chair and looked down at her hands. They were shaking.

Part 23

Regina was trying to concentrate on the book opened over her knees. It was her habit to read at least one chapter before sleep, even if it did mean that she often woke up in the middle of the night with the book digging into her where it had fallen from her sleeping body. But she was determined, however, to keep to her habits, even if the slumbering form next to her had other ideas.

She glanced over at Emma, half–hidden under the sheet over her naked body. The blonde’s legs sprawled across the bed in an ungainly, utterly comfortable fashion that brought a smile to Regina’s lips. For someone unaccustomed to having a lover in her bed so often, Regina had found that Emma’s presence beside her offered an unusual sense of peace; she also found that she was only too eager to hold onto it. In these quiet moments, the monotony of normality soothed her.

Or, she frowned affectionately at the waves of blonde hair across Emma’s upper back, not so quiet.

“You’re snoring, dear,” she commented.

Emma lifted her head from the pillow and blinked sleepily up at Regina, shoving at her hair.

“I’m tired,” she stated bluntly. “I’m trying to sleep now because in a few hours, I’m going to have to get up, get dressed and go back to my own place.” Her mouth formed a line of discontent and she rolled over onto her side, wiping a hand wearily over her face.

Regina nodded and returned to her book although her eyes failed to focus on the words printed there. Emma was spending more time at the house, sneaking in and out under the cover of darkness when Henry was asleep. It wasn’t the most convenient of solutions to their problem, but it served for the time being.

Glancing at Emma, Regina shifted in the bed, closing the book and placing it carefully onto the bedside table. Reaching up, she pulled the glasses that she wore for reading off her face, dangling them in her fingers for a moment.

“You know why you can’t stay,” she said, as Emma let out a huge sigh and scrubbed at her eyes with her knuckles.

“Henry…Storybrooke…duty…blah, blah blah,” she intoned, relishing how Regina stiffened beside her.

“And once again your ability to make light of the important things never fails to astonish me.” Regina shoved the glasses back onto her face and reached for her book again. As she flipped it open, a hand covered the pages and Emma rose up beside her.

“Important things?” Emma murmured, her breast brushing against Regina’s upper arm. “You know what’s important?”

“I’m sure you’re going to tell me,” Regina muttered.

“This is important, Regina,” Emma whispered. Under the bedclothes, her hand crept across Regina’s thighs. Despite the rueful expression on Regina’s face, Emma dropped a kiss onto the other woman’s shoulder. “This is the stuff other people just don’t get to be a part of, so why worry about them?”

“Because I’m the Mayor. Because this is a small town,” Regina protested. “Don’t you think people would have a field day if you and I…if this,” she gestured across the bed, “became public knowledge? I simply can’t have that.”

She shook her head firmly, wrenching her book open so that the spine crackled under her touch. “Henry has enough to contend with by virtue of the fact that he has two mothers. What do you think he’d say if he knew we were sleeping together?”

“I think he’d be pleased,” Emma said, shrugging. “He gets to have his White Knight around to keep an eye on the Evil Queen. Keep you and your wicked schemes in line.” She shoved at Regina with her leg, hoping to raise a smile on the other woman’s face.

“Stop that,” Regina said abruptly, ignoring how Emma’s mischievous expression faded into lines of concern. “This isn’t a joke.”

Huffing a sigh of impatience, Regina closed the book once more and replaced it beside the bed. It was only when Emma’s arm curled more forcefully around her body that she turned and faced the blonde, looking into her eyes.

“It’s too soon,” she said, a little more gently.

Emma blinked. “It’s always going to be too soon,” she said in a resigned manner. “It’s okay to be happy, Regina. And,” she said as the Mayor’s mouth opened in rebuke, “I know you are. Besides, how do you think Henry would feel if we didn’t tell him and months down the line he finds out anyway?”

“Months?” Regina’s head jerked back on her neck and she stared at Emma in something akin to horror. The future had always remained arrested, spinning in lost time forever. She had engineered it that way so the days ahead would be exactly like the days that stretched behind her. Emma’s presence in town had upset all her plans. Upset her very being.

“You still think I’m going to leave, don’t you?”

Regina blinked. She couldn’t deny it.

“I won’t,” Emma said, voice gravely serious. “When it comes to important things, I’ve got enough of them going on here in Storybrooke to keep me busy for a long, long time.”

If Regina was pleased by Emma’s confession, she didn’t show it. Instead, she looked away from the gaze fixed on her face and took a deep breath. There was a time when those words might have sounded like a threat, when she might have interpreted them as such, too. But tonight, in the confines of their bed, with Emma’s warm body against her own and a sense of happiness seeping through her veins, Regina found that she didn’t possess the strength to resist. Nor did her heart.

However, she told herself, turning back to Emma and giving the blonde a tight smile, it wouldn’t do for Emma Swan to know the power she held. Because it was a power under which Regina knew she would surely risk defeat should she acknowledge it completely.

“Speaking of things that keep you busy,” she remarked, as Emma relaxed beside her and closed her eyes again. “Is it true that the Sheriff’s office is investigating Mr Gold?”

Emma opened her eyes and frowned. “Yeah. So?”

“So that’s ill–advised,” Regina said shortly.

“Right,” Emma responded. “You know, people keep saying that I don’t want Mr Gold as an enemy, but nobody will tell me exactly why.” Her eyes narrowed, looking carefully at Regina.

“He makes problems go away,” Regina told her.

Emma shrugged. “And?”

“And I wouldn’t want you being one of them, dear.” Regina looked away now, swallowing over the rising disgust for her own weaknesses.

Silence roared between them for a moment.

Then, Emma’s hand tightened around her thigh and she dared peer up into Regina’s face, wondering if she might spy some semblance of care on the woman’s features.

“You don’t need to be worried, you know,” Emma said softly.

“I’m not.” Regina was resolute, shaking her head and bringing a faint smile to Emma’s lips.

“Yeah, you are. So Gold’s a fixer; I’ve come across a fair few in my line of work.”

“Please, Emma.” There was a strain to Regina’s voice that bothered Emma, and she sat up, looking inquisitively at the Mayor.

“Is there something you’re not telling me about Gold?” she asked.

“Of course not,” Regina’s answer was rushed, accompanied by a trickle of laughter. With a sinking heart, Emma knew immediately that it was false.

“I’m sure Henry would want you to be careful,” Regina said, placing a hand onto Emma’s cheek and looking into her eyes. Flecks of golden warmth fled through them and Emma couldn’t help responding; it was such a precious and rare feeling that she was powerless to do anything but.

“Just Henry?” she murmured.

Regina’s fingers moved against her cheek and the Mayor smiled beatifically, but didn’t answer. Instead, Regina reached up and pulled at her glasses, dangling them over the bedside table.

“Something tells me I’m not going to finish my chapter tonight,” she said wryly, as Emma snaked against her, breath on her neck and fingers pressing insistently against her skin.

The glasses fell onto the bedside table with a dull clunk and Regina rolled over, effectively pinning Emma beneath her. There was a smirk of challenge on Emma’s lips that Regina wanted to kiss away, but a swell of caution in her chest held her, suspended against the other woman’s mouth for a blistering moment.

“Mr Gold is dangerous,” Regina breathed. She squirmed on top of Emma and the blonde let out an appreciative groan. Now it was Regina’s turn to smirk. “I know him of old.”

Emma stopped moving now, frowning up at Regina. “Oh?”

For a moment, neither one spoke. Regret sent an icy chill down Regina’s back and she saw a hard glint enter Emma’s gaze.

“How do you know him, exactly?” Emma’s voice was grim, suspicious. With no answer forthcoming, she shoved at Regina, pushing the other woman away and sitting up, clutching the sheet against her chest.

“How do you know him?” she repeated, glaring at Regina.

The Mayor gazed back at her. A shiver tickled its way across Emma’s skin as she saw Regina’s eyes darken to pools of aching black. They were unreadable, secretive, impenetrable.

“Regina!” Emma hissed.

“Trust me on this,” Regina finally said. “Leave Mr Gold alone.”

Shaking her head, Emma scrambled from the bed, whirling around to pick up items of clothing. Hastily putting on her underwear, she yanked her jeans over one leg and stared at Regina, mouth open.

“Trust you?” she gaped. “Since I came here everything you’ve done has achieved the opposite of that!” Fastening her jeans she grabbed at her tank top, pulling it down over her head.

“I’m trying, you know,” she leaned forwards onto the bed, noticing how Regina flinched away from her. “This thing between us confuses me too, but it doesn’t mean I don’t want it. But you have to let me do my job and I have to let you do yours.”

Regina lifted her chin defiantly. “They’re not mutually exclusive, dear, if you hadn’t noticed. There’s a reason you can’t find any information on Mr Gold. He buries things, Emma. He’ll bury you too if you insist with this investigation.”

Grabbing her jacket, Emma marched towards the end of the bed, swiping up her boots from the floor. Turning, she looked at Regina, at the rumpled bedclothes and tousled hair. At the devastation she was leaving in Regina’s pristine home.

Hurt bloomed in her chest and she looked down at the floor for a second, angry at how easily things fell apart.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she said, glancing up at Regina. “There’s something wrong with Gold. It’s my job to find out what that is. But if you know something, or if you’re involved with him in any way, then don’t sit there and tell me to trust you.”

She cast a scornful look around the room and shook her head. “Trust needs to be earned, Regina. Otherwise this thing we’re doing won’t go anywhere.”

“No, it won’t, because you’re the one who always leaves, aren’t you?” Regina snapped.

Emma nodded. “Right now? Yeah. I’m leaving because I don’t want to argue with you anymore.”

She turned and grasped the door handle, twisting it then pausing.

“I want you to earn my trust, Regina,” she said over her shoulder. “I want to be able to…”

Shaking her head, she muttered words of recrimination to herself and, opening the door, left the room.

Part 24

Henry rushed past Regina, making for the stairs almost as soon as she opened the front door. Watching him, she barely had chance to put her hand on his head before he was halfway to his room without so much as a second glance at her.

Wrapping her arms around her body, Regina turned to see Emma hovering in the doorway. She’d avoided her for several days, unable to mask the hurt that Emma had left in her bedroom that night. Instead, Regina had returned to the solitary existence she’d always led, watching life in Storybrooke happen instead of participating in it.

It was only now that she was able to face Emma with composure, her face bearing none of the deep lines that the other woman had scored there days earlier.

“Thank you,” Regina said begrudgingly, nodding at Emma, “for bringing Henry home on time.”

Emma eyed her carefully before shrugging. “He got a report card from school. It’s good.”

Regina nodded. “Of course it is. Henry’s an exceptional student.”

“So he probably doesn’t take after me at school, then,” Emma said, attempting a smile. But Regina merely stared at her in the distanced, polite manner she’d perfected and the blonde’s face fell as she shuffled on the doorstep.

“Look, Regina — ”

“Graham stopped by earlier today,” Regina cut in, silencing Emma. “He wanted access to files kept in my office. Files about Mr Gold,” she added, with a vicious glare.

“He’s heading up the investigation. It’s all above board.” Emma shoved her hands into her back pockets and met Regina’s gaze directly.

“I told Graham that there’s nothing for him to gain access to,” Regina continued as if Emma hadn’t spoken. “Because there isn’t. Whatever you’re looking for, Deputy Swan, you won’t find it from me.”

“Right,” Emma nodded. “And is that because you don’t know or you’re not telling, Madame Mayor?”

“It’s because there’s nothing to find,” Regina stated firmly.

“Everyone in this town is scared of him,” Emma protested, one hand flying up into the air. “Don’t you think that means something?”

“Yes,” Regina bent forwards, her voice lowering to a hiss, “I think it means you should stop looking into things that don’t concern you. This is a small town, Miss Swan, not a city. We don’t have organized crime here in Storybrooke.”

“Really?” Emma’s mouth turned down in doubt. “Because from where I’m standing it looks like Mr Gold owns this town. And you.”

“Then perhaps you need to change where you’re standing,” Regina snapped. “Time to move on, maybe?”

Emma’s eyes widened, horrified by the suggestion, by the tone in which it had been delivered. Her gaze darkened to a stormy green as she shook her head.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” she growled, swallowing over the lump in her throat. “For me to leave Henry, leave Storybrooke. You’d be right, then. Everything you’ve ever said about me would be true.”

Words were incredibly powerful, Regina thought to herself as she looked at the figure on her doorstep, wanting so much to reach out to Emma and knowing that she couldn’t. Words always held emotion, evoked feelings that could have catastrophic consequences, should she let them. So the words she wanted to say stuck in her throat: unspoken lest the way she felt about Emma would make them real.

“You might not want me, Regina,” Emma said quietly, averting her gaze so she didn’t have to look at the Mayor’s stony expression any longer. “But Henry does. This town does. I’m not…I can’t leave that behind now.”

“Then for your own sake, stop looking into Mr Gold’s affairs.” Regina’s voice wavered slightly and Emma looked at her now, desperate to see an echo of her own feelings in the other woman’s eyes.

Stepping forwards, Emma moved closer to the Mayor, taking a breath and letting it out slowly in an attempt to quell the thudding of her heart.

“I want to trust you, Regina,” she said slowly, seeing how her confession sent alarm flickering through eyes of pitch black. “If you know something about Gold, then you have to tell me. It’s the only way this can work, you know?” Emma reached out, her fingers brushing lightly over Regina’s arm, but the Mayor’s mouth tightened and she moved backwards ever so slightly.

Regina’s hand darted out, grasping the front door and relishing the edge of it cutting into her palm. It had always been so easy for her to stick to the rules she’d created for herself; their rigidity had supported her, comforted her in the darkest of days. And even if her chest was aching with the burden of emotion, Regina Mills would never allow herself to be bowed by it.

She straightened, meeting Emma’s gaze. “I can’t help you, Deputy. Now, if that’s all, I think you should go.”

Closing the front door, Regina leaned against it and let out a long, anguished sigh. It would have come to this anyway; she knew that now. Emma’s voracious appetite for the truth would have brought them to this point sooner or later. Putting herself in danger seemed to be what the woman lived for and her decision to stay in Storybrooke had only given credence to that desire.

But desire was a strange thing, Regina thought. It acted independently of one’s wishes and gave rise to the most contradictory of emotions — especially those that Regina had sworn never to feel again. They were like a cancer, eating into her and tainting everything she’d worked so hard to be.

So she would do what she had done before: she would cut them out, no matter how painful or how much she might bleed. She would heal. She had before. And the scars that remained served as war wounds; the price of victory over a pernicious enemy.

Turning from the door, Regina walked towards the foot of the stairs. If Emma left Storybrooke, then she would never need to know anything about Mr Gold or his deals. She would never need to be disappointed in Regina’s involvement in them, either, never need to risk knowing anything about her dark past. And Regina would never have to bend under the weight of it.

It was for Emma’s protection, Regina thought, as she made her way up the staircase towards Henry’s room. Sending her away would be the best thing for everyone; better for Emma to live alone in the world than to become fixed in Mr Gold’s sights. And Henry would move past the heartbreak.

They all would. In time.

Opening the door to Henry’s bedroom, Regina peered around it to see her son sitting on his bed, leafing through the book of fairytales that made him think the worst of her. He glanced up as she entered and stiffened slightly, but Regina smiled at him anyway.

“I hear you got a report card from school,” she said, sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Uh…yeah,” Henry responded, frowning a little. He leaned over to where his backpack lay on the floor and rummaged inside it, finally bringing out a folded piece of paper that he handed over to Regina.

She took it from him, but didn’t look at it. She didn’t need to. One thing that never troubled her about her son was his ability to excel in all things. It was why he was so curious, so insistent about these fairytales he believed in. Henry thought they were true.

With a sinking heart, Regina realized that she’d almost managed to convince herself that they weren’t.

“You’re a good boy,” she said gently. Her son’s face screwed up into a dubious, suspicious expression, but he was wise enough not to offer recrimination. Not this time.

“Henry,” Regina said slowly, turning the report card over in her hands in a distracted manner. “You like having Emma around, don’t you?”

He frowned. “Of course. She’s my mom.”

It hurt, hearing him say it with such affection. Regina struggled for a moment to stop herself lashing out with cruelty and pain. It was, after all, the only way she knew how to get rid of it from her chest where it sat with leaden weight.

“Well,” she finally said, “I like having her around too.”

“What do you mean?” Henry was genuinely confused. Glancing down at the book on his lap, he frowned. The White Knight wasn’t supposed to be friends with the Evil Queen. The Knight was supposed to vanquish her and all of her dark arts. It was how the story went. How it was always supposed to go. Otherwise how would Storybrooke get its happy ending? How would he get his?

“What I mean, Henry, is that when you brought Emma to Storybrooke, I didn’t like the idea of her being here. In fact,” Regina eyed him carefully, “all I wanted was for her to leave.” She could see the comprehension in his gaze, how he viewed her with all the fearful subjugation that she’d always seen in the eyes of her subjects; those pitiless fools whom she ruled with a ruthless will. In the eyes of her son, it engendered a different reaction altogether and Regina, despite herself, grieved over it.

“But now I don’t want her to leave,” Regina smiled at Henry and he shifted uncomfortably on the bed. “I’m glad she’s here.”

“You…you are?” He tilted his head onto one side, clearly unsettled by her admission.

“Oh yes,” Regina told him. “Very glad. We’ve become quite close. Extremely close, in fact.”

The disgust on his face was only matched by her own repulsion for what she was about to do. But it was the only way, she told herself. The only way to protect what was hers. The only way to protect Emma. If she was gone, then she’d never have to find out what evils lay beneath the surface of Storybrooke. She’d never have to know anything about the evils that lurked beneath Regina’s skin, either.

Even if she felt them rise to the surface now, manipulating her son’s hatred of her to serve her own quite desperate needs.

Nodding at Henry, Regina mustered up another smile. “You know what I’m talking about, don’t you, Henry?”

He looked at her, understanding dawning across his features and he nodded slowly, dumbly.

“Good,” she said, reaching out and patting his leg. “I just want us to be one big, happy family. You and I, and Emma. That’s what you want too, isn’t it?”

She didn’t wait for him to answer and rose from his bed, turning so that she didn’t have to see his face; see the shattering of his innocence or the hatred he held for her.

Reaching the doorway, Regina paused and held up the report card in one hand. “You’re a good boy, Henry. You always do the right thing. I’m so proud of you.”

It had started to rain in a relentless, gloomy manner that cast a cloud over the town, heralding the evening with an early darkness. Emma turned from the window with a sigh and moved back into the warmth of the living room. Flopping down onto the couch, she frowned at the empty space around her with tired eyes. Mary Margaret had decided to go on another date with Dr Whale, despite the fact that she had little to no affection to offer the man.

She had stated quite plainly to Emma that, just because David wasn’t available, it didn’t mean that her life should stop. In fact, she’d been quite insistent on making it clear that she was trying to move on. But the sadness in her tone had only elicited sympathy from Emma, not the encouragement that the schoolteacher was seeking. And it was with a rather more somber attitude that Mary Margaret had left their apartment, a hopeful smile on her lips as she slipped away.

It was a false hope, though, Emma thought to herself. The sort of hope she’d harbored herself. It was tempting to believe in it and allow it to lull the heart into a false sense of security; easy to imagine the possibilities that it opened up.

But Emma knew that hope was a liar; a cheat that had made her feel things she knew were impossible. Even if her own heart was open and willing to risk being torn apart, it didn’t matter, because all the will in the world couldn’t open a heart that was closed. And Regina’s was: impenetrable and guarded, a fortress whose walls could not be invaded.

Hope faded, in the end. Emma knew that only too well. All the times she’d moved from one foster family to another, she’d felt it slip away from her when she realized that they didn’t want her, not really. So she had built walls around her own heart to protect it from hope and sworn that she would never let herself feel it again.

Then, Henry. Storybrooke. And Regina.

Emma kicked at the floor with a booted foot. Stupid hope, rearing its ugly head just when she thought she’d managed to quash it forever.

A rapid knocking at the door startled her momentarily. Rising, she covered the floor in a few long strides and reached for the handle, pulling it open.

Henry stood in the corridor outside, scrubbing at his reddened eyes with a fist, sniffling and looking utterly pathetic. His hair was rain–soaked, his shoulders hunched and it was a moment before he could find the breath to speak, looking up at Emma with glassy eyes.

“Is it true?” he asked. “About you and my mom?”

Emma stared down at him, open–mouthed and speechless.

“How could you?” he sobbed. “She told me…she said you were…” His shoulders hitched as he tried to get his words out and failed miserably.

“Okay,” Emma snapped to attention, reaching out and ushering Henry into the apartment, kicking at the door with her foot. “Come on; come inside.”

She led him over to the couch and sat him down while his little body continued to shudder as he tried to stop crying. Emma knelt in front of him, putting her hands onto his knees and peering up into his face, her own a picture of worried concern.

“What did your mom say?” she asked gently, reaching up to wipe at a few stray tears on Henry’s cheek.

He gazed at her, shaking his head and screwing his face up into an expression of revulsion. It was a moment before he caught his breath, a moment in which Emma’s heart pounded unreasonably hard against her ribcage.

“She — she told me about you and her.” His voice was hardened by an edge that didn’t belong to one so young and Emma flinched, cut to the quick.

“Henry, I — ”

“How could you?” he cried, as more tears began to fall from his eyes. “You were supposed to come here to break the curse, Emma! Not to fall in love with her!”

“I’m not…I didn’t…”

“You’re the White Knight. She’s the Evil Queen. You can’t be with her.” He was getting angry now, his tears hot and frustrated. “She’s evil, Emma!”

“Henry,” Emma said, her grip on his knees tightening slightly, “she’s not.”

He shoved her hands from his legs and she stumbled a little, finally rising to her feet and sitting down beside him on the couch. It was difficult to know what to say, almost impossible to know how to say it. Emma wasn’t sure she knew the precise nature of her feelings for and about Regina, so how on earth was she supposed to explain it to Henry in a way that made sense to him?

They sat in silence for a moment, punctuated only by Henry’s sniffling. Then Emma took a loud, short breath and nodded to herself.

“Listen, kid,” she said gently, turning to Henry. “I know this probably doesn’t make any sense to you. It doesn’t really make much sense to me either,” she added, rolling her eyes a little.

“Sometimes things happen that we can’t explain,” she told him, frowning over the woefully inadequate reasoning. “I mean, neither of us intended for this to…it just happened.”

She stopped, throwing up her hands and then helplessly letting them fall back onto her legs with a slap. A shrug lifted her shoulders as Henry turned to look at her, his features contorted into lines of anger.

“It’s disgusting!” he spat. “You can’t feel that way about her!”

“Hey,” Emma reached around him and squeezed his shoulder, her mouth forming a line of protestation. “I don’t even know how I feel about her, okay? Your mom isn’t an angel, kid. I know that for sure. But I don’t think she’s the devil either.”

Henry huffed a little, but thankfully didn’t shrug off her awkward embrace. Emma inched closer to him and watched as he wiped the back of his hand across his eyes.

“Your mom is a hard person to like,” she said softly. “She’s harsh and strict and I know you think she’s bad but, Henry, she’s that way for a reason.”

“Because she’s the Evil Queen!” Henry piped up, looking plaintively at her.

“Because she’s a mom,” Emma corrected him with a nod. “It’s been difficult for her, you know, raising you alone. But she’s doing the best she can. If she’s strict, then it’s because she wants the best for you. Your best chance, right? And you gotta admit, you’ve had a good life with her so far.”

Henry shrugged reluctantly. “I guess.”

“Besides,” Emma nudged him, “if I really am the White Knight, don’t you think I need to stick around to save her?”

The boy glanced sideways at her, his lips working around the suggestion as he gave it due consideration. “You should run away,” he said finally. “You should save yourself, not her. She destroys people…the things they love. You should get as far away from her as you can, Emma.”

“Yeah, well,” Emma stood up and looked down at him. “That’s really not my style. Not anymore. And if I can change, then you might want to think about the fact that maybe your mom can, too. Maybe all she needs is a chance. Maybe that’s what we need to give her.”

Now Henry blinked up at her. He’d never thought about that before. The only changes that he’d envisaged had been in the clearing smoke of a battle won; an evil defeated. Not for one minute had he ever seen a life in which redemption was offered and taken. His mouth opened as he gazed at his mother, the woman who had been sent by some divine intervention to save him.

He just hadn’t expected her to be the queen’s savior too.

“Okay,” Emma said, moving across the room to grab her leather jacket. “Come on, Henry. I’m taking you home.”

“She’s going to be angry,” he said in a small voice that trembled with prescient fear.

“Probably, yeah,” Emma groaned. But she shrugged on her jacket and offered him a grin of consolation, anyway. “Out of the two of us,” she held out her hand to Henry and he rose slowly, taking it in his own, “I’m pretty sure she’ll be way more pissed at me than you.”

They walked to the door of the apartment where Henry paused, looking up at Emma with suddenly surprised eyes. A pained expression crossed his face and he shook his head.

“Are you in love with her?” he asked, hardly wanting to hear the answer.

Emma sighed. “I don’t know, kid,” she said, pursing her lips.

“Is she in love with you?” he persisted, as Emma ushered him out of the apartment and into the corridor.

“I don’t know that either,” Emma responded, rolling her eyes. “Ask me something easy, will you?”

They made their way towards the door leading to the street and Henry thought hard, finally turning to Emma with a look of inquisitive horror on his face.

“Have you kissed her?” he enquired incredulously, the mere thought etching distaste over his features.

Emma wasn’t a woman who felt embarrassment easily. In her line of work, she’d been in many tricky situations and always managed to talk, cajole or simply fight her way out of them. But as Henry’s gaze turned upon her, she shifted uncomfortably, remembering Regina’s lips on her own, the dark embrace in which she’d lost herself and the addictive tug that compelled her to return to Regina’s bed.

Taking a breath, she planted her hands onto his shoulders and turned him in the direction of the outer door.

“Get in the car,” she ordered. “And don’t ask me anything else, okay?”

Part 25

Henry and Emma made quite a pathetic, bedraggled sight on Regina’s doorstep as she flung the door open and stared at them both. The rain was pouring down now, clearly set in for the night, and it bounced off the pathway around their feet as Henry hopped up onto the step and Emma lingered behind a little. She offered a look of apology towards Regina, bracing herself for what was sure to be a torrent of wrathful recrimination.

For a moment, Regina was taken aback, her eyes first on her son and then on Emma. She took in Henry’s soaking jacket, hanging heavily on his shoulders; she looked at Emma’s hair, plastered against her head, lank and wet. She hadn’t even known Henry was missing and her mouth opened in alarm as she gazed at them.

“He was upset,” Emma finally said, breaking the silence. She had to lift her voice over the sound of the rain and it echoed inside the porch where Regina stood, hands on hips.

Regina nodded slowly before her gaze turned onto Henry, eyes sharp and bright in the illumination coming from the overhead lamp in the porch.

“You left the house?” she barked at him, leaning forwards.

Beside her, Emma felt Henry shiver, whether from his wet clothes or Regina’s ire, she wasn’t sure. Placing a hand on his back, she gently pushed him forwards.

“He was upset,” she repeated, meeting Regina’s gaze and frowning. “Go on in, Henry. Go to your room and get dried off.”

Fearfully, he glanced up at her and she nodded at him. Then, inching past Regina, he ran off into the house and made his way up the stairs, leaving the two women alone.

Regina was framed in the lamplight, streaming down over her like the rays of a sickly sun. It threw her shadow across the porch, looming darkly towards Emma. Folding her arms over her chest, she looked at the blonde, at the raindrops making their way down Emma’s cheeks and across her jacket. And she felt herself begin to struggle with how she felt. Just as she had done so many years before.

“You told him?” Emma said, moving forwards and throwing out her hand. “You told Henry about us?” She was angry, astonished, a myriad of conflicting emotions tugging at her features.

Regina tossed her head. “I did.”

“What the hell, Regina? He’s a kid!” Emma cried, her hand clenching into a fist. “He doesn’t understand this.”

“And you do, I suppose?” Regina bit back. “Henry idolizes you. I thought a more realistic view of the situation might give him a healthy dose of reality.”

Emma snorted with mirthless laughter. “Reality? By messing up his head? Or did you have something else in mind?” Her eyes narrowed as she watched Regina’s stance shift and knew that she’d hit the nail on the head.

“What the hell do you want?” she asked, her voice lowering to a grated, demanding tone.

Regina drew breath, holding it for a moment. She wasn’t accustomed to explaining herself to anyone. She hated having to explain herself to Emma Swan. But she took in the set of Emma’s jaw, the hard gleam in her eyes and her hands, tightening into balls by her sides. It shouldn’t have, but the sight of the other woman, so resolute and strong, sent a flood of yearning hope into Regina’s chest. She trembled against it, gritting her teeth and knowing that confession, this time, was inevitable.

“He should have sent you away,” she said, as Emma’s frown deepened and she stepped closer, pushing at her wet hair. “Henry should have sent you away.”

“Oh, he tried,” Emma nodded, swiping at a few stray raindrops on her face. “He told me to run away from here. From you, actually.”

Regina’s arms slid around her torso, but there was cold comfort in their embrace. “Good,” she nodded, avoiding Emma’s curious gaze. “You should listen to him, Miss Swan.”

“Are you fucking insane?” Emma burst out, throwing up her hands again. “I mean, seriously, Regina. Are you completely fucking insane?”

The Mayor looked at her with a hooded gaze, lip curling at the insult but remaining silent.

“You used your own son — your son, Regina! And for what, to try to get me to leave Storybrooke? Do you have any idea how messed up that is? Did you think if Henry knew about us he wouldn’t want anything to do with me? Is that it?”

“Why not? He doesn’t want anything to do with me,” Regina remarked, her voice thick with emotion that she simply couldn’t hide anymore.

“But I do!” Emma stepped forwards again, droplets of rain scattering from her hair as she shook her head. “And every time I think I might actually feel — ”

She clamped her lips shut, biting back the words that lay on her tongue; that had lain in her heart for longer than she knew. But it was too late now; it wasn’t nearly enough to smash through the wall that Regina had built up. Emma could see it in the other woman’s face, in her posture: she was stony–faced and unrelenting. And she always would be.

“You know what? Forget it,” Emma sighed. “You can’t even be honest with yourself, never mind with anyone else. I don’t know what you’re afraid of, Regina, but using Henry to keep it from your door is…” She floundered, searching for the right words and hearing only Henry’s voice in her head.

“Well, it’s evil,” she said finally, looking up at the Mayor. “It’s wicked, Regina. And I feel sorry for you if that’s the only way you can avoid feeling anything.”

“Now you listen to me,” Regina darted forwards, eyes ablaze. “I don’t need your pity and I certainly don’t need your judgment.”

“Okay,” Emma shrugged, “how about some honesty? How about the truth? How about telling me what the hell is going on with Mr Gold that you think is so bad you need to run me out of town?”

Regina was tight–lipped, once more standing tall and glaring down at Emma.

“You manipulated Henry to get me to leave. Why?”

There were moments, Regina knew, when even the most armored stronghold was doomed to fall. She had built the highest towers from which to gaze down upon her empire; she’d done the same here in Storybrooke, too. But her grip on the town was failing, loosening in an ever–twisting kaleidoscope of confusion and longing that she hadn’t even known she possessed. Or, Regina reasoned silently, that possessed her. Because she felt consumed by it, caught in its thrall like some enchanted creature flailing madly to escape.

Perhaps there was no escape from this. Perhaps this was her last bastion of defense against a curse that had enveloped her as well as the world she’d left behind.

Emma shook her head, the rain pattering against her jacket. It was beginning to soak through the lining onto her clothes, damp against her skin. Standing under Regina’s gaze, Emma was starting to feel cold. She turned, surrender sagging at her shoulders, and began to trudge down the path towards the gate.

“You can’t stay.”

Regina’s voice halted her and Emma swung around, walking slowly back towards the house.

“So you keep saying,” she said. “But you won’t tell me why.”

Regina’s arms tightened around her body and she swayed slightly, uncertainty pulling at her mouth and glistening in her eyes.

“You have no idea what Mr Gold is capable of,” Regina said. “I can’t let you continue with this ridiculous investigation. You have to tell Graham to shut it down.”

“Okay,” Emma said slowly. “Why? Give me one good reason.”

“I can give you twenty,” Regina told her. “I can give you a hundred. He owns this town, Emma. Everything that’s ever happened, he’s had a hand in it.”

“Still not telling me why,” Emma said bluntly, moving up onto the step where Regina stood. She noticed how the other woman shivered in the night air, in the cold sweep of damp that rushed towards them.

“You think you’re indestructible, don’t you?” Regina said, a sneer quirking her lips. “You think nothing can harm you and that you’re always in the right.”

“I can look after myself,” Emma shrugged. “So?”

“So, you can’t stay. You can’t do this. I…I can’t do this.” Regina looked down at the ground, her voice breaking.

“And hurting Henry, sending me away…it’s because you’re afraid?” Emma’s tone rose into surprise. Regina’s head snapped up and even though the Mayor’s eyes were unfathomable, it was indeed fear that paled her complexion and worried at her mouth.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Regina said, but her words failed to carry conviction and she shook her head irritably. “And I’m not afraid of Mr Gold. But you should be, Emma. Afraid of what you might find out.”

“Are you sure you’re not afraid of me?” Emma stepped closer to Regina, so close that they were almost touching. She bent her head and peered up into the other woman’s face. “You’re not afraid of this?” Reaching up, she slid one fingertip up the length of Regina’s arm, up to where her shoulder disappeared underneath the silken material of her dress.

“No,” Regina whispered. But her breath caught in her throat and she swallowed hard. Emma’s touch felt like a line of fire, racing heat across her skin and trembling at her knees.

“Then what is it?” Emma murmured. “Whatever you’ve done, Regina, it can’t be as bad as — ”

“Whatever I’ve done,” Regina recovered some of her bravado and glared at Emma, body tensing in repudiation, “has been for the good of this town.”

“Okay,” Emma nodded, frowning a little. “Then if you’re not afraid of me, or Gold, or anything else while you’re locked in your ivory tower, what is it? Why do you want me to leave?” Her hand dropped from Regina’s arm and she stood, breathless and waiting, time stretching achingly between them.

“I…” Regina’s voice faded, stolen by the night around them and the blanket of persistent rain beating down over their heads.

“Why?” Emma leaned forwards, this time both her hands reached up and grasped Regina’s shoulders, shaking the woman a little. “Why?” she asked again. “Tell me why, Regina!”

She wasn’t sure how it happened, only that it did; only that Regina twisted out of her grip and reached for her, fingers sliding past Emma’s cheeks and into her wet hair. In a whirling moment, Emma felt herself propelled backwards until her back slammed into the wall of the porchway, air rushing from her lungs. But before she had chance to draw breath, Regina’s mouth was upon hers, kissing her so hard and fast that Emma felt lightheaded.

Regina’s body pressed against her and Emma felt warmth returning to her skin, flushing it with all the heated passion coming from the other woman. But it was more than that; Regina’s mouth was insistent, her touch desperate. It evoked a pang of sadness in Emma’s chest that she was unable to quell and, with some difficulty, she reached up, pushing Regina away.

Staggering backwards, Regina was in utter disarray. Her lipstick was smeared and her hair tousled. She raised a hand, pressing her fingers against her mouth, eyes wide in horror. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. She couldn’t survive like this, slavishly succumbing to emotion. For so many years she had impinged her will on others, bending them to her wants and desires. Now she felt as powerless as they must have done, bowed by wants and desires that she simply didn’t want to feel.

But feel them, she did. So keenly that she clutched at her stomach, bending slightly and gasping for air. Her eyes met Emma’s, searched them and found nothing but a reflection of herself, of her pain and sorrow, hidden away so that nobody would ever see it.

Emma saw it, though. And the stark, naked truth of it gripped Regina’s heart, bringing it back to life and making it beat for someone else. For another heart.

“It’s the only way to keep you safe,” Regina heard herself say, and grimaced, shaking her head. Love was weakness, after all, because her knees were threatening to give way and her hands were shaking. She stared down at them, willing them to obey her, searching her brain for half–forgotten enchantments.

“Keep me safe?” Emma stepped forwards, confusion coloring her features. “Why would you want to do that?”

It was pain that pulled at Regina’s face; pain that wrenched at her chest and burned like acid in her throat. It tugged at her mouth as she gazed at Emma, helpless to do anything but feel it. Feel everything. Feel, with complete certainty, that a heart filled with hate could be loved back to life. Just as she could.

“Emma,” she said slowly, moving towards the other woman once more. “Don’t you know?”

She lifted a hand, placing her palm against Emma’s cheek for a moment and shook her head.

Emma’s hand covered her own, fingers curling around it and squeezing it tightly. She nodded, meeting Regina’s gaze and seeing the darkness in it dissipating to something else, something she’d only glimpsed before.

“Yeah,” she said gently. “I do.”

Regina smiled feebly. “Well then,” she said.

“Well then,” Emma repeated, a lopsided grin on her mouth. She looked at Regina’s hand, clasped in her own, then back up at the almost wondrous expression on the Mayor’s face. “So,” she said haltingly, “do you want me to leave? Because if that’s what you really want…”

She let out a rasping breath that gusted into the air around them, suddenly feeling the weight of her wet clothes and shivered involuntarily. “If you really want me to — ”

“No.”

Regina’s voice was low, barely a whisper, almost a sigh.

“I want you to stay.” The Mayor stepped back towards the open door of her house, fingers still entwined with Emma’s, tugging the other woman along. She took a breath, rising up over it as though it could calm the terrible beating of her heart or the fearful emotions spreading throughout her body.

“Don’t go,” she said. “Don’t leave me.”

She led Emma out of the dank night and into the brightly lit warmth of the house, closing the door behind them.

Emma emerged from the bathroom, surrounded by tendrils of steam that curled briefly around her before dissipating into the warmth of the bedroom. Rubbing furiously at her hair with a thick towel, she dropped it onto a chair and huffed at the hair hanging down over her eyes. Moving forwards a couple of paces, she glanced down at the huge, fluffy robe that Regina had insisted she wear, tugging the belt around it a little tighter.

In fact, she mused, shoving freshly washed hair off her face, Regina had been insistent about a number of things since she’d invited Emma into the house. The Mayor had ushered Emma upstairs without a word, guiding her along the landing with a hand in the small of her back. It was the merest of touches, but administered with such care that Emma turned twice to gaze at Regina, receiving a faint smile for her pains.

Once inside the master bedroom, Regina had disappeared into the bathroom and started water running in the huge tub. She had demanded Emma strip off her wet clothes immediately but the blonde protested, saying that she needed to speak to Henry.

Regina had waited in the hallway, listening to the hum of voices inside her son’s bedroom: Emma’s low, grave tone and Henry’s childish timbre. She couldn’t hear what they were saying but she knew with certainty that it was about her. Worry grumbled in her stomach and began to ache so that, by the time Emma emerged from Henry’s room, Regina was clutching at herself, fingers pressing against her own body in hesitant anxiety.

Closing Henry’s door with a quiet click, Emma turned to the Mayor and immediately spied the worry flitting through Regina’s gaze in deep hues of concern. Concern for her son, for the fragility of her relationship with him, for the newness that had been thrust upon them both.

Smiling, Emma nodded and reached out, touching Regina’s elbow for a minute. It was a simple gesture, but the contact was enough to reassure the Mayor and she sucked in a breath, returning Emma’s nod with a faint incline of her head. There was no need for any more questions tonight. All that lay between them were answers, confirmation of a greater change taking place.

By the time Regina followed Emma into her vast bathroom, the blonde was already peeling off her clothes, dropping them onto the tiled floor where they landed with a wet slap. Emma had begun to shiver; as she lowered herself into the huge bathtub her teeth had started to chatter and she let out a long, grateful moan as hot water seared her skin.

Regina had picked up the clothes from the floor, item by item. She gathered them into her arms and stood for a minute, blinking at Emma, seemingly confused as to how they’d both reached this point. Confused as to how she could have let this happen.

But for once, she didn’t question it. She had doubts; fears, too. And they played across her features as she left the bathroom, pointing out the robe that Emma should wear after she’d finished her bath.

Craning her neck, Emma watched as Regina wandered back into the bedroom, slumping onto the bed, Emma’s wet clothes still in her arms. The Mayor wore an expression of contemplation, playing across her features with bemused acknowledgement on its heels. Emma sighed a little. Regina looked utterly lost.

Now, though, as Emma moved towards the bed, she saw that Regina’s face looked peaceful. The Mayor had changed into her nightgown and was in bed, book on her lap and glasses perched on her nose. She was the picture of domesticity and Emma couldn’t resist the smirk that sprang to her mouth. She was willing to bet that nobody in Storybrooke would ever believe that Regina Mills, who ruled through fear and manipulation, could ever look so…normal.

But, Emma surmised, she must have spent longer in the bath than intended because Regina’s eyes were closed behind her glasses, chest moving up and down in time with her rhythmic breathing. For a moment, Emma simply stared. Even asleep, Regina was a stunningly beautiful woman. Infuriatingly, maddeningly beautiful.

Emma’s heart clenched a little and she sat down gently on the edge of the bed. She wasn’t much of a one for tenderness or the trappings of romance. There hadn’t been many opportunities for them in her life and even fewer instincts to seek them out. Relationships had come and gone, none of them leaving wounds that wouldn’t heal; many of them had ended at her own insistence anyway. If she was honest with herself, she’d lacked the patience or the desire to commit to them.

However, as she kept reminding herself, change happened when it was least expected. Even a change of heart.

Reaching out, Emma pulled gently at Regina’s glasses, sliding them from the other woman’s face. They were almost off completely when a hand shot up, fingers wrapping around her wrist and startling her.

“Don’t,” Regina said, frowning at Emma. “I’m reading.”

Emma smiled. “With your eyes closed?”

Regina’s lips formed a hard line and she wrested her glasses back from Emma’s grip, shoving them back onto her face.

“Well I did begin to wonder if you’d drowned in that bath,” she remarked, gazing pointedly at the book on her lap.

Emma grunted and scrambled up over Regina’s legs, sprawling out on the bed beside the other woman. “Huh,” she grunted. “Which would have solved all of your problems, no doubt.”

“Yes,” Regina nodded, turning a page on her book with deliberate slowness. “No doubt.”

She glanced at Emma and they exchanged a rueful smile. Regina sighed and shook her head, finally closing her book and turning to the blonde.

“What happens now?” she asked, frowning a little.

Shifting closer, Emma saw the trepidation gleaming in Regina’s gaze, no matter how much she was trying to hide it. Her eyes widened as she considered the question; as she began to contemplate the ramifications of it, too.

“Uh…we go to sleep?” she suggested, face screwed up in hopeful dismissal.

Regina huffed out a breath and pressed her lips together again. Emma Swan really was the most aggravating person and Regina was having some difficulty understanding why she’d ever agreed to this; why she’d thought that a weakness exposed might be turned into a strength. There was no fortitude in this – in the softening of one’s heart or the tenderness of emotion. She’d been taught better than that, by rules that were much harder than her heart had become.

Her wretched existence had pushed aside the notion of this; Regina had clung so devotedly to her love for Henry that anything else seemed to pale in comparison. But Emma Swan had put dangerous notions into her head — and her heart. Ideas that bloomed like spring over the hoar frost of her life, ideas that were foreign and repulsive to her, even at the same time that she realized she had always wanted them. Losing love had almost broken her completely; finding it again just might damn her.

“I need some fresh clothes,” Emma said suddenly, shifting against Regina’s body.

“I’ll say,” Regina muttered, looking across the room where she’d hung Emma’s leather jacket on a coathanger.

“I mean to sleep in,” Emma said bluntly, rising on the bed and peering into Regina’s face. “This robe is…” She plucked at it and her mouth turned down, “…not great nightwear.”

The clothing in question had fallen open slightly, revealing an expanse of creamy flesh and Regina, despite her reservations, couldn’t help staring. Sometimes she thought she’d wanted Emma from the first moment she’d seen her; sometimes she felt as though keeping the other woman at a distance was the only way to save herself.

Either way, she knew, it was probably going to hurt.

Catching the line of Regina’s sight, Emma grinned. “Or we don’t have to sleep,” she said slowly, leaning in, lips hovering close to the other woman’s. She trailed a finger up the length of Regina’s arm, letting out a hum of satisfaction at the shiver it evoked.

“I get to stay over, right?” Emma whispered, lips dragging across Regina’s ear. Her hand picked at the edge of the bedclothes before disappearing under them, scraping across Regina’s silk nightgown where it clung to her thighs. “I don’t have to go home at stupid o’clock in the morning?”

As Emma’s mouth burned a trail of kisses along her jaw, Regina closed her eyes and submitted to them momentarily. It would be so easy to give herself over to this feeling, to the sensation of a body against hers, the eager hands that were touching her and bringing her to life. And for a fleeting moment as the tip of Emma’s tongue whirled in the hollow beneath her ear, Regina surrendered.

It was only as she heard a low, lazy laugh that she blinked, reaching up and pushing at Emma. As the blonde was forced backwards, Regina pushed back the covers, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and sitting up. She heard the faint noise of confused surprise that Emma made before the bed moved beside her and Emma appeared, leaning forwards to look into her face.

“Okay,” Emma frowned. “I’m pretty sure I didn’t expect that reaction. What’s wrong?”

Regina’s heart began to thud, an irregular beat in her chest. A reminder that, the closer Emma got, the more she would know. And the more she knew, the greater the lie would be, in the end. For Storybrooke and all the people in it; the life that Regina had created, it was all founded on lies.

It was the ones she told herself that were the most pernicious. The most dangerous. The most harmful. She pulled her glasses from her face, dropping them onto the bedside table and lifting a hand to rub wearily at her eyes.

“Regina,” Emma urged, placing her hand on the other woman’s leg.

“I don’t want you to think this gives you free rein over my life,” Regina said suddenly. “This isn’t some romantic escapade of yours that you can flit in and out of whenever you choose.” Her voice was grated, harder than she thought it would be. But she met Emma’s gaze almost defiantly as the blonde sat back a little, chewing at her lower lip.

“Okay…” Emma said slowly. “No romance: check.”

“Don’t be flippant,” Regina rebuked with a tired sigh.

“Oh, I’m not, believe me.” Emma rose from the bed and began pacing across the room, grabbing the ends of the belt around her robe and pulling them tight. “This makes you uncomfortable. I get it.”

“Do you?” Regina glared across the room at her. “Do you have any idea how this makes me feel? At all?”

Turning, Emma glowered at her. “Yeah,” she nodded with a sharp jerk of her head. “You’re terrified. So am I. You’ve got secrets, Regina, and sooner or later I’m going to find out what they are. You know that, don’t you?”

The Mayor said nothing, but averted her gaze, swallowing over the rising panic in her throat. It was only when Emma marched across the carpet and crouched in front of her that Regina was able to meet her eyes once more.

“Listen,” Emma said, placing her hands onto Regina’s knees, “news flash: I’ve got secrets too. Everyone has. But we’re not kids and, in case you hadn’t noticed, we have a son. I live in the real world and it’s not like the fairytales.”

She shrugged, her head tilting onto one side. “Just because two people…” she paused, lips moving silently over words she couldn’t quite say yet.

“Just because two people want something it doesn’t mean that there’s a happy ending waiting for them.”

Emma smiled sadly, thinking of all the happy endings that had been torn from her own life; how moving from family to family in the foster system had hardened her against the prospect. And she’d become tired of waiting for it to happen — so tired that she had told herself it never would.

And now, this.

She looked into Regina’s eyes and, once again, wondered at the darkness she saw there, lurking in the depths of glistening brown.

“But even if you are the Evil Queen,” she quirked an eyebrow at Regina, “I’m willing to take my chances.”

Regina’s nostrils flared and she fixed Emma with a firm look of reprove. “That misguided sense of optimism you have is really quite trying, dear.”

Emma rose to her feet and grinned. “Oh, you have no idea,” she intoned sardonically. “Now, can I have something to sleep in that isn’t a robe?

But Regina reached out, catching her arm. There was a glimmer of hope in the Mayor’s eyes; a lighter hue that was warm and inviting. Emma felt it reach her as she stared down at Regina, at the fingers curling around her arm, at the hand that was tugging on the belt to the robe.

“Like you said,” Regina purred, and Emma felt herself instinctively drawn to the other woman, want pooling in the pit of her stomach and seeping down towards her thighs. “We don’t have to sleep.”

Chuckling, Emma allowed Regina to undo the belt of her robe and closed her eyes, head lolling back as palms smoothed over the taut muscles of her stomach. Regina Mills might be the most obstinate woman she’d ever met; she might even be manipulative and angry more often than not. But as lips followed the pathway hands had done, Emma found that tonight, she didn’t much care.

Regina felt Emma’s fingers on her naked shoulders, a thumb pressing against her neck. Secrets and lies; they were all she had to offer Emma apart from this. All she had to hide away lest they be exposed. Because Regina knew that, if they were, then this would be stripped away and torn from her heart, just like it had done before. Emma knew nothing. She believed in the world that Regina had created; believed in a Storybrooke where the magical evils of fairytale world simply didn’t exist.

But as Emma swayed in front of her and murmured Regina’s name under her breath, the secrets and lies were almost true. Almost enough to push the fear from Regina’s mind and heart. And for tonight, Regina thought, as Emma’s robe slid from her body and dropped to the floor, she would find a truth in the lie. For tonight.

Part 26

Emma had been out of town for a few days. Her exit from Storybrooke had caused considerable consternation among the townsfolk; nobody had ever left Storybrooke before. In the muted chatter of the diner, it was discovered that nobody had ever really wanted to. Ruby, of course, had spoken up and told anyone willing enough to listen that she wanted to leave and always had, but nobody really paid her any attention. And Granny’s stern looks from the kitchen had soon put a stop to her declarations.

Only Graham knew the nature of Emma’s trip and he wasn’t telling anyone, least of all Henry, who had turned up at the Sheriff’s office with questions and worried, wide eyes. The Sheriff had explained to Henry that sometimes, their work took them out of town. Henry had patiently explained to the Sheriff that that simply wasn’t possible.

Graham had to admit that, in all his years at the Sheriff’s office, he’d never once found reason nor compulsion to leave Storybrooke.

He had frowned about that for quite some time.

While Emma was gone, Regina found herself rather listless. It bothered her more than she cared admit and she found herself becoming angry at Emma for leaving. She had roamed her office and attempted to immerse herself in the mundane duties of her position, but nothing seemed to assuage the nagging sense of worry that fluttered in her stomach.

Emma had left: the one thing that Regina had wanted so very much. Now that it had actually happened, she felt Emma’s absence with a strange sense of loss. The emptiness she’d felt so keenly in her soul had become a gaping chasm and Maleficent’s warning echoed in her head once more, resounding like a half–remembered charm. Regina had expected darkness to consume her heart and soul; after all, she had given herself over to it with all the desires for revenge and power that had seeped through her bones and strengthened her.

She hadn’t expected it to be overwhelmed with a desperate want of a different kind, however. And after several hours of picking at papers on her desk, Regina sat back in her chair with a disconsolate sigh and silently cursed Emma Swan for ever coming to Storybrooke. Because the town seemed like a foreign land now, without her.

It was as she had decided to simply give up and leave the office — she was getting no work done whatsoever and it was beginning to irritate her — that her cellphone rang. Snatching it up, she glanced at the caller ID and, disappointingly, her heart skipped quite joyously in her chest. She grimaced at the feeling in distaste as she pressed the phone to her ear.

“Where are you?” she asked, without any sort of greeting.

“Hello to you too. I’m in Boston. I told you I had some business to take care of."

“Your business is your job here, Deputy,” Regina’s voice was hard–edged, even if her heart was beating so fast she breathed hard in the wake of its pulsing. “You should be in Storybrooke.”

“I will be in a few hours. I’m on my way right now."

“You’re coming back.” The words were out of Regina’s mouth, tinged with amazement before she had the sense of mind to stop them. Swallowing, she frowned and shook her head, anger towards Emma and the havoc she was wreaking surging in her stomach once more.

“Of course I’m coming back. Will you tell Henry?"

“Yes,” Regina said evenly. “I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to see you.”

“Good. I’ve missed the kid."

There was a pregnant pause in which the line crackled static in Regina’s ear and she frowned, this time holding on to the words she wanted to say.

“So…I guess I’ll see you when I get back?"

Regina couldn’t imagine anything she wanted more. And the knowledge of that sent an icy chill speeding down her back, shivering at her knees and weakening her resolve.

“You should come for dinner. Henry would like it.”

“Sure, of course."

Regina nodded, an odd sense of satisfaction burgeoning in her chest.

“I’d better go. Don’t want another signage incident."

Emma’s laugh resounded in her ear and Regina resisted the urge to smile. “Please drive safely. I’m sure Graham would resent having to put his own Deputy behind bars again.”

“Right. And, hey, Regina?"

“Yes?”

“I’ve missed you too."

Dinner at Regina’s was a somewhat sumptuous affair. Even though it was intended to be low key, Emma and Henry exchanged incredulous glances across the polished wood and the boy rolled his eyes as his mother fussed a little too much, a little too fervently. It had been an odd few days without Emma. Regina had been over–attentive and Henry had almost relented and given in to her affections because he’d missed Emma’s easy manner and plentiful hugs.

Now that his sense of order had been restored, he was pathetically grateful. But, looking at his adopted mother, Henry could sense that he wasn’t the only one. Regina seemed to glow, somehow, her lips curved in a beatific smile that he found disturbingly pleasing. It wasn’t that he’d stopped believing she was evil; but Emma’s words and her assurance that she could save Regina had stuck in his head. He tried to remember it as he watched his mother move around the table, placing plate after steaming plate of food on it.

He didn’t trust her. But Emma seemed to. She’d told him that whatever was happening between her and his mother needed to happen — and that he needed to let it. In his young mind, Henry had tried to rationalize it as best he could. But watching the two of them together, he was pretty sure that his mother and Emma had feelings for one another. As disturbing as that was, Henry had to wonder that if Emma could love Regina, then it was possible…just possible that he might, too. In time.

When he was about thirty or something, he told himself with a scowl.

His bad mood didn’t last long, however, as Emma was animatedly retelling the story of the time she’d had to put Leroy in one of the cells. She had skillfully avoided any and all questions about precisely where she’d been in Boston and why, instead focusing on her life in Storybrooke and the work she did there. Giving them an exaggerated but hilarious impersonation of Leroy in a woefully drunken state, Emma regaled Henry and Regina throughout dinner.

Only too eager to join the conversation, Henry had subsequently itemized everything that had happened since Emma left town. By the time he finished, their dessert bowls were empty and Regina was already placing coffee in front of Emma and a glass of milk before her son.

The Mayor had remained fairly quiet during dinner. In fact, she wasn’t sure she could have spoken much even if pressed. Contentment, she found, was derived from listening to the voices of her son and Emma, lifted in mutual pleasure. It was an unfamiliar feeling; she hadn’t expected to be able to sit back and let their relationship play out before her eyes like this. But the glances Emma threw at her and the smiles they exchanged made Regina feel as though she was included.

It had been a long time since her satisfaction had been gleaned from anything other than pain and suffering. Even longer since she had felt the stirrings of a deeper, more pervasive emotion in her heart.

Sipping at her coffee, Regina realized that in all the years she’d lived in Storybrooke, she’d never actually enjoyed dinner as much as she had done tonight. Her house was luxurious, huge and an appropriate part of the trappings of the position she occupied within the town. But it had always seemed empty, as she was. A beautiful shell filled with loneliness.

Leaning forwards, she watched as Emma grinned across the table at Henry and found that jealousy, always such a familiar emotions, was somewhat abated tonight. Because, tonight, it actually felt as though she and Henry were family. And Emma’s presence had engendered that.

“Well I’m glad to see the town managed without me,” Emma remarked, winking at Henry.

“Really, dear,” Regina said, replacing her coffee cup daintily onto its saucer. “Try being the Mayor and then you’ll understand the intricacies of running a town.”

“Oh yeah?” Emma leaned back, pushing at her coffee cup and draping an arm over the back of her chair. “It must be hell for you, having to spend all day in that palace you call an office.”

Henry stifled a giggle and Emma smiled at Regina, lips curved in a playful manner that both infuriated and delighted the Mayor all at the same time.

“Actually,” Regina said, reaching out to toy with her cup, “I’ve been in meetings for the last two days. Marco put forward a proposal to start building work on the storefronts down Main Street. They need a little work.”

She paused and shook her head. “Well, a lot of work,” she clarified, glancing at both Henry and Emma in turn. “Storybrooke is a beautiful town and it’s important that we keep it as such for the people who live here. I explained to Marco that we need to take pride in where we live and he agreed. In fact,” she smiled slowly at her son, whose eyes were wide in astonishment, “I promised him that I would do everything in my power to help him make Main Street the best in the area.”

There was a satisfaction glistening in her eyes that she didn’t try to quell. Henry saw it and blinked before looking across the table at Emma, narrowing his eyes. It had started with the clock tower, gears shifting to make time move forwards. With it, change had come with every passing second. He had reveled in it, feeling the curse begin to waver around the edges. And the changes that Emma’s presence caused were peripheral, but essential.

One thing he hadn’t counted on, though, was the notion that Emma’s presence in his own life might bring about change. In the strangest places, too. He stared at Regina, trying to discern the evil in her gaze; the hardness that typified her and the black, creeping sense of dread in every word that came from her lips.

Instead, his heart lurched as he watched her exchange pleasantries with Emma, the two of them chatting casually about Marco and his plans. If he didn’t know better, he would suspect that Regina actually cared about Storybrooke, that she was invested in the town and the people who lived there.

But that couldn’t be right, could it? Because the Evil Queen wanted to subjugate people and rule them, not support them. But as he stared at his mother, Henry couldn’t help wondering if Emma was actually capable of all the things she’d said she might do.

Even if that included offering redemption to a heart that he believed was devoid of love.

“Henry.”

Regina’s voice jerked him out of his reverie and he looked down at his empty dessert bowl, ignoring her gaze.

“Don’t you have homework?” she asked. He shrugged reluctantly. If he was honest with himself, then he kind of wanted to stay and see if this was one of his mother’s games, or if her assumed and relaxed sense of self was actually real.

“Kid,” Emma’s voice came from across the table and Henry squinted back at her. “Do you have homework?”

He nodded slowly. “I guess.”

“You guess?” Emma intoned, sitting up in her chair and leaning forwards, resting her elbows onto the table. “You know you have to do homework, right? I mean, my roommate is your schoolteacher. Could get awkward.”

Her tone was light, but she fixed him with a firm gaze and Henry shrank a little under it. He even looked towards Regina in a last ditch attempt at appeal but she was too busy staring at Emma to notice him.

“Can’t I stay and…and…talk?” he asked in a small voice.

Emma made a show of pulling up her sleeve and looking at her watch before giving Henry a distinctly stern glare. “You’ve done nothing but talk since I got here,” she told him as he let out a weary sigh. “How about you go and do some thinking instead?”

Henry was sorely tempted to protest a little longer, but Emma’s eyebrows rose above a resolute gaze that would brook no dissent. He let out another long sigh, shoulders slumping in defeat. Rolling his eyes, he pushed his chair back, purposely scraping it over the floor, partly out of defiance and partly because he knew it would annoy Regina.

Dragging his feet, he walked around the table, pausing at the doorway to turn and fix the two women at the table with a rueful glare.

“Two moms,” he sighed dramatically. “I don’t like it.”

“Yeah,” Emma called out as he trotted off across the hallway and up the stairs to his room. “Sucks to be you, kid!”

She turned to Regina, amusement plastered across her face and noted the gleam in the other woman’s eyes. Shrugging, Emma shook her head questioningly, a little nonplussed.

“Impressive,” Regina said. “And here’s me thinking you were the good mother who plies my son with candy and lets him do whatever he wants.”

“Right,” Emma said, but she could hear the playful tone of Regina’s voice, saw the tiny smile on the other woman’s lips. “Look,” she continued, her voice dropping to a more serious tone, “I don’t know much about being a good mom or…any kind of mom, really. But I want to try.”

Shrugging, she felt foolish at the fervent surge of care that rose in her chest and looked away, down at her coffee cup, trying to shield herself from Regina’s intense gaze. Those eyes could see everything, she thought. They could see into the heart of her, expose her truest nature and the love that she harbored for Henry.

Maybe it didn’t just suck to be Henry, she told herself with a wry smile.

“I want to try too,” Regina’s voice reached her ears and Emma looked up, surprised.

Now it was Regina’s turn to avoid Emma’s curious gaze and the Mayor’s shoulders lifted in admission, confession.

“You do?” Emma asked, leaning forwards. “So…”

“So?” Regina’s voice had a brittle edge to it and she rose in her seat, straight–backed and stiff in an almost defensive posture.

Looking at her, Emma couldn’t resist the smirk on her face. Regina’s walls were solid, almost unbreakable. And every time she thought she spied a chink in them, the Mayor would scramble desperately to strengthen and rebuild. It was the pattern they’d fallen into. Back and forth like adversaries in some war of emotions. The oldest battle in the world, Emma thought wearily. And yet she still donned her armor and headed into the fray every time.

She knew, deep down, that she probably always would.

“So,” she said, leaning back in the chair again and stretching out her legs underneath the dinner table. “Why don’t you tell me what I’ve missed in the last few days?”

It was getting late by the time Emma and Regina rose from the dinner table. The dim lights that they had eaten by were now the only illumination in the room, the passing hours casting shadows outside that were creeping across wooden floors towards them.

After Henry left the room, they had sat and talked about the town. Or, rather, Regina had talked about the town. She seemed relaxed, almost happy as she told Emma about the people under her care, the duties and responsibilities of being Mayor of Storybrooke. Listening to her talk and watching the varying expressions flitting over her features, Emma had realized that Regina not only took her position seriously, but that there was a reticent care evident in her every word.

Time ticked by, almost without them being aware of it. The only thing that Emma was aware of was contained in the lilt of Regina’s voice, the gleam of her eyes and the almost impassioned manner in which she was speaking. It was, Emma thought, wholly endearing. Not that she’d ever tell Regina that. Romance, after all, was off the table. She was pretty sure that sentiment and compliments were, too.

Emma sighed, looking at her watch as they left the dining room and wandered into the huge hallway of the house.

“I guess I should go home,” she said. “Say hi to Mary Margaret at least.”

Regina, close on her heels, made a small sound, whether irritation or dismay, Emma couldn’t tell. They lingered by the front door for a moment, avoiding one another’s eyes. Since her return, Emma had barely touched Regina and her fingers itched for the other woman. She’d been respectful of Henry throughout dinner and kept her distance from Regina. Even though she’d explained to the boy that she and Regina were involved — and that seemed like a foreign word on her tongue when she’d said it — Emma was aware enough of his discomfort to keep her actions chaste.

Frankly, it had almost killed her. The moment she saw Regina, dressed in a skirt that was tight in all the right places and a shirt unbuttoned just far enough for Emma to catch glimpses of the black lacy bra that the Mayor wore underneath it, she’d wanted nothing more than to slide her arms around Regina and kiss her.

She still wanted to now.

“Thanks for dinner,” she hitched her shoulders and shoved her hands into the rear pockets of her jeans.

“It was surprisingly enjoyable,” Regina responded, eliciting a snort of muted laughter from Emma which, in turn, caused a frown to appear on the Mayor’s forehead.

“Something wrong?” Regina enquired, folding her arms over her chest.

Emma ducked her head for a moment and shifted on the floor, her boots scuffing against the wood.

“No,” she said, lifting her head and looking into Regina’s eyes. “Nothing’s wrong. We’re just being really polite.”

“Ah,” Regina nodded, a smile ghosting over her lips for a second. “Manners. Not your strong point.”

It wasn’t an insult; not even close, but Emma’s eyebrows rose anyway and she stared at Regina. “Tact,” she intoned, “not yours.”

Regina hummed and smiled, acknowledging the parry with more grace than she usually did. It might have been the wine they’d had with dinner, or it might have been the warmth of the company that still ran through Regina’s veins. Either way, she knew that she didn’t want this evening to end. Not just yet.

It was only when Emma reached for the door handle that Regina’s hand closed over her arm, staying its progress. And when Emma looked into the other woman’s eyes, she saw them darken with a want that resonated in her own chest.

Then Regina was upon her, fingers clutching at Emma’s face, lips crushing onto her mouth. It might have only been a few days, but as Regina’s body pressed up against her, Emma gave way to the longing that she had stifled, letting it flood through her. Her arms slid around Regina, pulling her closer — never close enough.

“I missed you.”

It was barely a whisper, Regina’s breath on Emma’s cheek as her lips tickled a line towards her ear. It wasn’t the words themselves that caused Emma’s heart to lurch in her chest, but rather the agonized tone in which they were said. It was desperate, filled with a yearning that echoed throughout Emma’s entire being. She let out a moan in response as Regina’s lips sucked on her pulse point and her head lolled back on her neck, bumping against the wall behind it.

Just a few days, Emma thought absently as Regina’s hands slid underneath her shirt, fingernails scraping over her torso. They’d been apart for only a few days and even that had been too much. Regina’s touch was like electricity, coursing across her skin with buzzing lines of intent and Emma was powerless to resist. It was as though all their pent up feelings during the evening had burst forth, overwhelming them both in a myriad of familial comfort and want.

As Regina’s mouth found hers again, Emma felt everything they had fostered in the kiss; everything Regina had begun to feel and held back all this time. All the words the Mayor couldn’t say were spoken in the graze of her fingertips across Emma’s ribs, the hasty movement of her mouth on Emma’s lips, the shallow, quickened breaths that roared in her ears.

It was only when Regina sank to her knees and began to scrabble at Emma’s jeans that the blonde opened her eyes. She hadn’t even realized she’d closed them. Hadn’t even known that she was pressed against the wall beside the front door, heart pounding in her breast, body aching for release.

Emma looked down and saw her shirt rucked up, exposing her torso. She blinked. Then, as gently as she could, she reached down and grasped Regina’s shoulders, moving the other woman away from her.

“We can’t,” she said in a low tone, hoarsened by lust. Clearing her throat, she swallowed and took a breath. “We can’t,” she said again.

Regina’s face creased into lines of concern, of confusion and incomprehension. Shaking her head, her mouth opened but she said nothing. Rejection, after all, was what she was used to. Even now, even after she and Emma had reached something of a détente, fear haunted Regina and prickled at the back of her neck. So as she gazed at Emma, finally rising to her feet, a veil fell over her features. She smoothed her palms down the lines of her skirt and fixed Emma with darkening eyes. She had allowed herself to feel a false sense of security this evening. She’d almost been taken in completely by it. Duped.

It rankled in her chest and Regina stepped back from Emma, the planes of her face hardening coldly.

“No,” Emma reached forwards, catching hold of Regina’s wrist. She’d seen the cloud passing over the Mayor’s face; knew what it meant and how it ached between them. “Regina, I didn’t mean that we can’t — ”

“Which is odd as that’s precisely what you said.” Regina’s tone was cool, her voice halting and abrupt. She refused to meet Emma’s gaze and instead looked down at the floor, jaw hardening.

“Regina,” Emma said again, tugging at the other woman’s arm. “Jesus, Regina, stop being so stubborn and look at me.”

Pained eyes turned upon her and Emma tilted her head to one side, letting out a slow sigh.

“Not in the hallway of your home,” she said gently. “Not here. I don’t…” she trailed off, shaking her head.

“I want to stay,” she admitted. “I wanted to ever since I walked through that door and believe me, the end of the evening in my head didn’t include a quickie up against the front door of your house. It’s not how I want you.”

“Oh?” Regina relented slightly, lifting her chin and staring at Emma.

“No,” Emma said, drawing Regina towards her. “So for God’s sake, just take me to bed, won’t you?” She offered a plaintive smile towards the other woman, seeing the glimmer of comprehension and want shining in Regina’s eyes for a moment. There was hesitancy there, too, and a wavering mistrust that no amount of pleading could dispel.

“Please,” Emma said, fingers tightening around Regina’s wrist.

Many people had appealed to her better nature before, Regina thought, looking into Emma’s eyes. And each time they had, she’d felt the need to remind them that she simply didn’t have one; that begging, though amusing, was futile in the end. She’d heard the word ‘please’ so many times that it had become meaningless to her and, as queen, she had paid little heed to the desperate souls that had cried it.

But tonight, it was as though Regina was hearing it for the first time. Emma’s tone and her quiet insistence made her chest ache, her throat close. So as she stared at the blonde, Regina understood benevolence for the first time in decades. She understood want and need, the hunger that only Emma could satiate.

For years, Regina had never given in to anything. But as she straightened, reaching out for Emma’s hand and leading her towards the stairs, Regina knew that when it came to Emma Swan, she’d already surrendered.

Regina’s bedroom was plunged into darkness as Emma closed the door behind them. The Mayor made her way across the room, kicking off her shoes and snapping on a bedside light, illuminating Emma’s pathway towards the bed. She’d almost reached it when Regina came to her again, eyes wide and black with sticky passion. Their bodies crashed against one another, hands snatching and plucking at pieces of clothing. Scrambling out of her boots, Emma swayed dangerously close to losing her footing and fell against Regina as she pushed them from her feet.

“Take off your clothes,” Regina hissed against Emma’s ear, her own shirt gaping open.

Emma stumbled again as Regina shoved her against the bed, shins knocking on the edge. She let out a gasp of pain and clutched at the other woman, but Regina let out a low laugh that tingled down Emma’s spine as she found herself falling back onto the bed. Fingers reached for the fastening on her jeans, tearing it open and tugging them down her legs with unceremonious fervor. Pushing herself up onto her elbows, Emma watched as Regina’s hands grasped her underwear, pulling relentlessly until they, too, were lying on the floor beside her jeans.

Regina’s mouth was curved in a predatory smile and Emma shivered at the sight of it. Rising up, she grabbed the open shirt of the other woman and yanked at it, hearing a gratifying pop as the last few buttons were torn from their fastenings. A faint laugh escaped her mouth as Regina sank to her knees and their lips met again, hasty, urgent and eager. The last remaining scraps of clothing were shed among kisses that burned heat between them until they were finally, gloriously naked, skin rubbing against skin.

As Regina’s nails scraped sharp lines up her back, Emma knew they would leave marks. She threw back her head and let out a hiss of pain, wanting Regina to dig deeper, to gouge lines of ownership on her. Emma would wear these scars with pride, with the knowledge that they had been put there in wanton dismissal of anything that made sense. Because none of this did. Not this woman whose body fit so closely against her own, not the black heat rising between them, and not the voracious need Emma had that swelled in her chest and prickled hot tears behind her eyes.

Nothing made any sense when she was like this, consumed by an innate desire to give herself to Regina, utterly and without reservation. The caution that Emma had applied to every area of her life was gone, dismissed to another tomorrow. Tonight, she belonged to the woman pressed up against her, mouth on her neck and hands sliding down her sides with wicked intent.

Regina’s lips dragged a wet line down Emma’s chest and hovered over her breasts. Parting Emma’s legs, Regina insinuated herself between them, leaning in and taking an already hard nipple between her teeth. She bit down on it, flicking the tip with her tongue and chuckled as Emma groaned in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Even as the blonde’s hands slid into her hair and tugged on it hard enough to sprinkle hurt over her scalp, Regina teased and coaxed Emma’s nipple into an achingly sensitive point.

Arching her back, Emma let out a groan of such anguished ecstasy that Regina felt it resonate throughout her body, trickling down to pool between her thighs. She lifted her head, lips red and wet, and stared up at Emma as the blonde released her grip on Regina’s hair. In the yellow glow from the bedside lamp, Emma’s skin glowed. The light caught her hair, creating a hazy halo around her head and Regina’s breath caught in her throat; Emma had never seemed more beautiful, more vulnerable or open.

Regina had stripped many people of many things in her life. She had torn away their dignity and courage, reduced them to nothing more than a sum of their parts. But it had always been at her own behest; they had always been unwilling victims.

Emma Swan was no victim. Nor was she subject to the malevolent powers that Regina had once possessed at her fingertips. No, Regina thought as she gazed up at the blonde. If there was any power to be wielded, then it was Emma’s alone; the spell that she cast over Regina when she gazed at her like this, eyes as tempestuous and deep as the ocean. With a shiver running down her spine, Regina knew that the most potent of magic wasn’t summoned from darkness at all: it was created from love. She’d fallen prey to its charms before.

And it had almost destroyed her.

Her heart swelled, too quickly and too much for her to possibly contain. In Emma’s gaze, Regina saw everything she might have been, everything she once was. A reflection of herself in a mirror image. Almost too much to bear, her lips parted in wordless supplication, eyes glistening.

Emma reached out, fingers curling around Regina’s neck and she roughly pulled the other woman towards her hungry lips. Their naked bodies met, sliding against one another and they kissed as though it was the first time, the last time, the only time.

Regina slithered up over Emma, pushing the blonde away from her and gripping her legs, fingers digging into soft, pliant flesh. Emma gasped as Regina forced her legs open, knowing that she was already wet. Tracing a moist line with her tongue from knee to the top of Emma’s thigh, Regina drew close to the musky scent of arousal emanating from damp curls between Emma’s legs.

The blonde groaned, pushing her hips forwards, but Regina glanced up at her, making eye contact and smiling wolfishly. Laughing softly, she shook her head, just once, before moving to Emma’s other leg. Trailing her tongue up it in a slow, deliberate line, she reached the top of Emma’s thigh and, again, the blonde let out a strangled moan and thrust her hips forwards.

It was almost torture, Emma thought, as one of Regina’s arms slid underneath her thigh and lifted it. It was almost heaven, she added silently, as Regina bent forwards and hooked Emma’s leg over her shoulder. She shivered, leaning back onto her elbows, and held her breath as Regina’s mouth descended onto her. Lips closed around her, sucking and pulling at her skin, the tip of a tongue creeping between flesh to dance lightly over her clitoris.

The flooding sensation through her body was sinful, setting every nerve ending alight, a flame licking in the pit of her stomach. Regina’s tongue began a slow circle of exquisite pressure and Emma felt her hips begin to roll towards it, rising from the bed. Her breathing was quicker now, louder and harsh with want. She let out a low, guttural sigh and felt it returned from between her legs, vibrating across her skin and resonating through every part of her, or so it seemed.

Regina’s fingers clutched at her skin, pressing into Emma’s thigh where it lay over a delicate shoulder. But there was more strength and purpose in the body between her legs than even Emma had given credence to, and she rose and fell with Regina’s rhythm, not her own. Again, a tongue circled around her and into her, sliding easily across slippery skin that was slick with need. A hand on her knee pushed firmly, spreading her legs even wider, and Regina sighed as she moved further in, deeper and harder now.

Two fingers skimmed over her before thrusting inside and Emma began to suck in deep lungfuls of air, her heart beating so fast that it was a constant thrumming in her ears. Regina’s tongue began to press harder now, whirling around her clitoris and flitting over the most sensitive part of it with intent. The fingers inside Emma began to move in and out, almost to their tip before they were plunged back inside with increasing intensity.

Splayed open and undone, Emma’s body moved almost of its own volition. Jamming herself against Regina’s mouth and fingers, the blonde heard herself begin to mutter nonsense, words of entreaty and profane pleasure. She begged Regina to stop; implored her to continue in a voice that was broken, as she was. Lights began to explode behind her eyes and she felt Regina’s groan envelop her in a cacophony of lips and tongue and teeth, scraping so painfully over her clitoris that Emma arched towards it, welcoming the blistering sensation with a keening cry.

Again, her back arched. Again, the conflagration of feeling rushing headlong through her body and setting it aflame. Emma bit down on her lip, lest she say the words that were bursting into her head, but as Regina pressed against her, she heard them echoing in her ears and wondered absently if she’d said them aloud.

Once more, Regina thrust inside her and the tip of her tongue spun in maddening circles around Emma’s clitoris. It was almost too much to bear, such thunderous pleasure coursing through her that Emma felt dizzy, displaced, fractured at her very core. She came apart, then, frozen in mid–air, eyes wide and wondering. As her climax washed over her, Emma began to shudder, surrendering to it completely. Her hips jerked forwards, awash in the torrent that sped over her with such unrelenting force that she felt as though she was coming apart.

Emma called out Regina’s name, just once, before her perception blurred and she fell back onto the bed, a long breath escaping her lips.

A gentle kiss touched her inner thigh and Regina withdrew her fingers, murmuring Emma’s name and touching her with an almost reverent caress. Climbing up onto the bed, Regina lay down beside Emma, her dark eyes travelling over the blonde’s features.

Regina’s kissed Emma’s shoulder, tasting the faint salty tang of perspiration. She nuzzled against the other woman, fitting her body against Emma’s and throwing an arm over the blonde’s torso. As she did so, Emma began to laugh, a deep, satisfied chuckle that rumbled in her chest.

Regina frowned, lifting her head and staring down at Emma. “You’re laughing,” she commented, a little bemused.

Emma lifted an arm that was heavy and leaden, rolling towards the other woman a little and setting it down in the dip of Regina’s waist. Their faces were close; when she kissed the other woman, Emma could taste herself on Regina’s lips.

“Yeah,” she said, but her voice was hoarse and graveled. “People do that when they’re happy. Try it sometime.”

Regina’s mouth twitched but as Emma moved to entwine their legs, the Mayor found that she wasn’t angry. In fact, the emotion surging through her chest for Emma filled her with a strange delight, the likes of which she hadn’t felt in forever.

Her fingers fluttered up Emma’s side and the blonde twisted against them, her skin over sensitive and ticklish. She let out a hum of pleasure, savoring this, indulging in Regina’s curves against her own.

“I guess you missed me a lot,” Emma drawled, lazy satisfaction overtaking her.

Regina’s eyebrows rose and she assumed an expression of surprise. “Missed you?” she said. “Did you go somewhere? I honestly didn’t notice, dear.”

“Ha ha,” Emma grunted, bumping up against Regina’s body. “You missed me. I can tell.”

Regina’s teasing smirk faded, her eyes becoming shaded pools of dark light. She bent her head, pressing her mouth against Emma’s neck.

“Don’t do it again,” she breathed. Her voice hovered somewhere between a plea and a command. “Don’t leave me again.”

Emma’s arms moved to encircle Regina, and they shifted on the bed, one woman cradling the other with a strength that seemed to emanate from the very heart of her. As Regina settled against her shoulder, Emma closed her eyes.

“I won’t,” she said. “I promise.”

Part 27

Emma had opted for breakfast at Granny’s. It seemed like the most politic thing to do, as Regina had been a little prickly when they woke up, entangled in one another’s embrace. It wasn’t her usual standoffishness either, but a rather more cautious demeanor that entered her gaze as she had extricated herself from Emma’s arms, shifting backwards in the bed.

By the time they had dressed and Henry was ready to go to school, Emma had decided that prodding Regina into confessions would only run the risk of having her snap. It was clear that the Mayor’s actions were speaking a little more loudly than her words and Emma had made her excuses in order to leave the house as soon as she could.

It was odd, though, she mused, picking over the waffles that she’d ordered and then half–heartedly begun to eat. She’d always preferred her own bed to anyone else’s; always made sure that sleep was a momentary lapse in judgment and that spending the night was pretty much out of the question. But she honestly couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so well, particularly with someone else and especially in the arms of someone like Regina Mills. Because, when all was said and done, Emma couldn’t honestly say that Regina wasn’t involved in Machiavellian schemes within the town that she held so tightly in her grasp.

Frowning, Emma shoved another forkful of waffle into her mouth and chewed hard. Feelings were so problematic and nebulous. They never did what she wanted them to do and she’d pushed most of them out of her life completely. The truth was much easier to discern and deal with. It was rigid and clear cut and she’d always clung to the belief that, however difficult some truths were to accept, seeking them out was always the right thing to do, in the end.

She couldn’t help wondering what truths Regina was hiding from her.

“Top up?”

Emma looked up to see Ruby standing over her, a pot of coffee in her hand. The girl offered her a bright smile and Emma glanced at her cup, only half full. Nodding, she watched as Ruby poured steaming black liquid into it, swallowing her food and turning to the girl with an inquisitive expression on her face.

“Ruby, what do you know about Mr Gold?” she asked quietly.

Shadows flitted through Ruby’s eyes and she even glanced around the diner before taking a step closer to Emma. She looked worried. Not a great indicator of Gold’s reputation, if not his history.

“He owns this place, basically,” Ruby said in a near–whisper.

Emma nodded. “Yeah, I know all about his properties in Storybrooke.”

“No,” Ruby frowned, “not just property. I mean, he really owns this place. The diner.”

Now it was Emma’s turn to look perturbed and she shook her head slightly. “You and Granny pay him rent for the place, or…”

“That’s what he likes to call it,” Ruby muttered. Again, she glanced around the diner before bending slightly. “Mr Gold kind of owns people, too. You make a deal with him? You pay for it. With interest,” she added, her lips twitching agitatedly.

“He’s threatened you?” Emma’s eyebrows rose and she felt a pang of worry in her stomach. Regina had said that they didn’t have organized crime in Storybrooke. But from the look on Ruby’s face and the momentary fear that had sped through her gaze, that statement might have been untrue. Especially if the Mayor of Storybrooke was in on the whole thing.

“Oh…no, not in the way you think,” Ruby shook her head quickly and shrugged.

“Then tell me what way you mean,” Emma said, her mouth forming a thin line of concern. “What’s he done?”

Ruby laughed a little, but it was nervous and brittle. She bit at her lower lip before taking a breath, looking back over her shoulder to the counter where Granny was chatting merrily with another customer.

“It’s not really what he’s done,” she told Emma, her voice now little more than a murmur. “It’s what he might do. Everyone knows he’s got more power than the Mayor and less holding him back to use it, too. If you thought people were scared of Mayor Mills, then it’s nothing compared to how scared everyone is of Mr Gold. Regina might be a complete bi– ”

Her eyes widened and she clamped a hand to her mouth, instantly aware that she’d said too much. She bobbed up and down for a second, shaking her head.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she gushed, as her hand fell and she briefly touched Emma’s shoulder.

Emma was confused. “Uh…sorry for what?”

Ruby laughed again, but this time it was one of apology and embarrassment.

“Mayor Mills,” she explained, as Emma’s frown deepened. “Aren’t you and she…?”

There was an uncomfortable silence as Emma shifted in her chair and looked down at her food. A rush of irritability prickled through her veins and she clenched her teeth together. It wasn’t Ruby’s fault, of course. It was the way that Storybrooke operated; a small town wherein what happened at one end of town was gossiped about at the other almost as soon as it took place.

She might have guessed that she and Regina would be fertile ground for discussion, especially considering how their relationship had started, in enmity and public repudiation of one another. As she glanced back up at Ruby, Emma took a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.

Gossip was rife wherever any group of people gathered and became involved in each other’s lives. It was why she deplored small towns so much — everything just became that much more intense. But Emma had never been at ease with being the subject of conversation, especially when that centered on her personal life. Or lack of, she thought grimly. And even though she’d half–expected it to happen in Storybrooke, it by no means meant that she was comfortable with it. Not that she’d ever admit to that discomfort, or add fuel to the fire that caused it.

It rankled in her gut anyway, the urge to leave everything behind always at her back like a following specter. She’d succumbed to that urge when she’d packed up and left Tallahassee. It was tempting to do the same thing now.

“The Mayor and I,” she began hesitantly, hearing the vaguely offended tone in her voice, mouth twisting in distaste over it, “are…well, we’re — ”

“I don’t need to know,” Ruby smiled and put her hand onto Emma’s shoulder again. It was an oddly comforting gesture and the waitress tilted her head onto one side, squeezing gently with her fingers.

“No,” Emma grimaced, “seeing as it sounds like you already do, anyway.”

Ruby grinned and rolled her eyes. “Emma, you’re the most exciting thing to have happened to Storybrooke in…well, for as long as I can remember,” she said delightedly. “Before you came here it was like we were all just stuck here forever, you know?”

“Not really,” Emma mumbled, unable to remember when she hadn’t moved on, changed things, run away.

“And you have to admit,” Ruby bent forwards again, winking at Emma with distinctly salacious expression, “Regina Mills is a bold choice. Good for you.”

There was no guile in her face, only a sneaking admiration that shone in her eyes for a moment before she grinned, nodding at Emma and turning away, walking back towards the counter.

“Great,” Emma said to herself as she turned back to her waffles, stabbing one of them forcefully with her fork. “I should have just stayed in Tallahassee.”

“Where you would most assuredly have stood a better chance at getting a tan,” a voice drifted above her head. Looking up, startled, Emma’s gaze narrowed as she saw Mr Gold standing by her table, hands clasped over the top of his cane. He smiled at her and gestured to the seat opposite. “May I?”

“Sure.” She waved her fork in the air, a reluctant invitation and watched carefully as he lowered himself into the seat, tugging on the lapels of his jacket and making himself comfortable. His smile never wavered: that polite, smug air he had making her bristle before he’d even said anything of importance. If the Sheriff’s office could arrest people based on a gut feeling, then she would have had Gold trying to peddle his bric–a–brac and deals from behind bars.

“So,” Mr Gold began, as Ruby scurried over. He dismissed her with a wave of his hand without even looking at her and she exchanged a worried glance with Emma before thankfully retreating to the relative safety of the kitchen.

“So?” Emma looked him in the eye, unafraid. Until she had solid evidence to indicate that there was something to be frightened of, Mr Gold failed to instill the fear in her that she’d seen on the faces of the rest of Storybrooke. Dropping her fork back onto her plate, she leaned back in her chair and picked up her coffee cup, sipping at its scalding contents.

Mr Gold placed his hands on the table, linking his fingers together and assuming a composed demeanor that was intentionally irritating. He looked across at Emma and smiled broadly.

“Did you have a nice trip to Boston?” he enquired, his voice soft and low.

Emma glared at him. “How do you know where I’ve been?”

Gold rolled his eyes, shoulders hitching with a touch of arrogance that only served to heighten Emma’s irritation.

“I have eyes and ears everywhere, Deputy, “ he told her. “There’s not much that happens in Storybrooke without me hearing about it. Not much at all.”

“So I’m learning,” Emma said in a flat tone. She put her coffee cup onto the table and folded her arms. “And I was in Boston on official business, but then you probably already know about that, too, right?”

Mr Gold adopted an unassuming expression, but his eyes were black and gleamed with unspoken malice as he glanced at her. “I know you were looking for something,” he said slowly. “Did you find it?”

Emma resisted the urge to grab hold of him and beat the satisfaction out of the smile he relied on so much. She’d learned that when Gold smiled, it usually meant that he had the upper hand. The urge to prove him wrong roared in her ears as she stared at him. Unfortunately, in this instance, he already knew that she’d found nothing. And he was right.

“You know I didn’t,” she told him. “Tell me, Mr Gold, which adoption agency was it that you worked with in Boston when you were procuring my son for the Mayor?”

He frowned good–naturedly and blinked at her. “Boston?” he said, his voice rising in surprised. “I don’t recall working with an adoption agency in Boston.” His lips pursed as he paused in contemplation, as though he was genuinely trying to search his memory. But Emma knew that it was a ploy to deceive her; that the details Mr Gold had were so deeply hidden that not even her trusted contacts in the city had been able to help her.

“Right,” she grunted blankly. “Great. Thanks for your help.”

Mr Gold reached out, toying with the top of his cane where it leant against the table. Fixing her with his dead eyes, his brow wrinkled in thought for a moment before he finally spoke.

“Would you like to tell me why the Sheriff’s office is investigating my affairs?” he asked politely. “I’m just a local businessman, Deputy Swan. I have nothing to hide, no evil schemes to cover up. It’s all a little insulting, don’t you think?”

“What I think,” Emma unfolded her arms and leaned forwards over the table, meeting Gold’s stare with a resolute lift of her chin, “is that there’s something you’re not telling us. Like why people in this town are so scared of you, for example.”

“Ah,” Mr Gold nodded. “I’m wealthy. That brings with it a particular sort of power that you probably wouldn’t know anything about.” The insult was alluded to rather than blatant, but it was there nonetheless and Emma’s nostrils flared as it hit home.

“I admire your persistence, however,” Mr Gold continued, his thin lips forming a mirthless grin. “But perhaps I shouldn’t be the object of your investigations. You won’t find anything to help you here.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question that fell from Emma’s lips, more of a challenge, an affirmation of the nagging sense of disquiet that Gold engendered in her chest. “You should be talking to Graham about this, not me. He’s the Sheriff.”

“That he is,” Gold asserted. “But all those who possess power rely on something to back it up, don’t they? He’d be nothing without you. After all, we’re only a product of those we trust and love, aren’t we?”

His smile fell as he gazed at her and there was an intent in his eyes that made Emma falter, for just a second. But Gold saw it, stored it away and reached out to toy with his cane again.

“If you think there’s something amiss in town,” he said quietly, looking at his cane,” then you might consider that you’re looking in all the wrong places. That your investigations would be far more profitable were you to turn them elsewhere.”

He looked back at her now and again a faint smile played around his mouth. But Emma was not to be disarmed by it, nor did she place any trust in it and her jaw hardened as she sat up in her chair, back rigid with suspicion.

“Meaning?” she barked at him.

“Meaning that if you’re looking for the real villain of the piece, then you may want to turn your attentions a little closer to home. Or, I should say,” he let out a little laugh, “closer to the home where you seem to be spending a lot of nights lately.”

He paused, a sly grin pulling his lips apart. “I’ve heard that the Mayoral mansion is quite impressive,” he mused. “You must tell me if Regina’s sense of interior design is all I’ve heard it is.”

“How the hell did you — ”

“Eyes and ears, Deputy Swan,” Gold lifted a finger in the air, quieting Emma’s blustering outburst. “Eyes and ears,” he repeated slowly.

“You know,” Emma stated firmly, “if I wanted cryptic, I’d do a crossword puzzle. What’s your point?”

“Oh, just that when it comes to wielding power in Storybrooke, I’m not the only one who has it,” Gold explained. “Have you ever wondered just why people never question Regina’s methods, or her motives?”

Emma’s heart sank a little. Of course she had. Constantly. But she’d been so caught up in her own involvement with Regina that any doubt or suspicion had abated in light of the intense feelings she had for the woman. Looking at Mr Gold now, she felt a sudden stab of worry that sliced across her heart. She might want Regina quite desperately, but she wasn’t entirely sure that she trusted her. Not yet.

“The Mayor isn’t under investigation, Gold,” she told him.

“No, she isn’t,” he agreed, before tapping a finger on the table top thoughtfully. “But it might be wise not to let emotional entanglements blind you to the fact that perhaps she should be.”

“What do you know?” Emma leaned over the table, her eyes hard and bright.

But Gold was not to be pressed further and merely shrugged dismissively. “That’s not for me to divulge,” he said. “After all, I have been involved in several business transactions with Regina. I wouldn’t want to be implicated in anything.”

He nodded at her. “But in the interests of the town, I’m more than happy to help you in any way that I can. Perhaps you could consider me an ally, of sorts, if you wanted to.”

Grasping his cane, he got to his feet and stood over her as she stared up at him. “Even the Sheriff’s office needs a helping hand now and then, I’m sure. And as a committed citizen of the town, I’m only too willing to offer help where it’s needed, of course.”

“Of course,” Emma murmured suspiciously. She turned in her chair as he moved around the table, clearly troubled. “But what’s in it for you?” she asked, as Gold paused by her seat and met her eyes once more.

He looked around the diner, at the people in it who wouldn’t even look at him, never mind challenge him. And as his gaze returned to Emma’s face, he shifted, leaning heavily on his cane for a moment.

“Satisfaction,” he offered. “Justice. Truth. After all, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To find out the truth, hm? Don’t let your involvement with Regina distract you. If you’re looking to expose the evil that lies in the heart of this town, you just might want to start with her.”

She stared at him, his expression implacable and eyes unreadable. The seeds of doubt began to take root in her chest, spreading out to curl questioning tendrils around her heart, the one thing that she hadn’t thought to protect against Regina. Her mouth opened, but nothing came out and she watched as Gold nodded at her, gathering his coat around him.

“Well,” he said with a polite incline of his head, “the offer’s there if you want to take me up on it. Think about what I’ve said, won’t you?”

He made his way to the door and Emma felt a chill creep down her back. Gold made deals — that was his way; it was how he’d survived and gathered the unwitting and reluctant loyalties that made him so powerful and resilient. Owing him a favor would be a burden that Emma wasn’t sure she could carry, not as someone who wanted to uphold the law and certainly not as someone whose conscience had always dictated her actions.

But if he was right…

She sighed, picking up her fork again and finding that her appetite had left her completely.

If Gold was right and his claims had any sort of validity at all, then she was going to have to investigate the woman she was falling in love with. The realization of both those things, she thought, were almost enough to make her want to get as far away from Storybrooke as she possibly could, and never return.

“Sit down, Sidney.” Regina waved a hand towards the sofa in her office and watched as the editor of the Storybrooke Daily Mirror sank uncomfortably into the seat. Sweeping around the table, she took a seat next to him and smiled at his hesitancy. Sidney’s trepidation was well–placed; she controlled the press in Storybrooke just like she controlled everything else. Her hold over him was formed in the loyalty he consistently showed her, unfurling it at her feet with a slavish devotion that she found fascinating, if a little distasteful.

She knew how he felt about her; saw the hope in his eyes every time she drew near. There was confusion, too, as though Sidney wasn’t sure how he could feel what he did about her, only that it resonated so strongly in his every word and deed. Regina couldn’t resist a faint smile as she glanced across at him. If only he knew.

If only any of the cursed citizens of Storybrooke knew. Regina doubted that they would be so willing to live under her leadership.

Except Sidney, of course; her smile widened and he blinked under the malevolent force of it. Sidney had always been prepared to do anything to please her, no matter how depraved.

“I want you to do something for me,” she finally said, and he nodded eagerly before she’d even told him what it was. Yes, she decided. Sidney would always reflect her own desires. Just as he always had.

“I’m yours to command, Madame Mayor,” he said gallantly, but there was a glimmer of fear in his eyes that Regina was sure remained from the past, unwittingly trickling into his present.

She reached out and patted his knee, her fingers lingering just a little too long before she leaned back, clasping her hands together on her lap.

“It seems that we have something of a problem,” she began.

“You want me to write more stories about our illustrious Deputy?” Sidney smirked, pride coloring his features. “Something about police corruption? Taking bribes?” He leaned towards Regina eagerly and her eyes widened, the smile on her lips fading.

“No,” she held up her hand, rising to her feet and walking to the relative safety of her desk. “Miss Swan isn’t…”

She paused, sinking into her chair. Sidney had been a willing participant in the schemes she’d planned for Emma, but they lingered uncomfortably in her mind now; transgressions of another past, another history. Fear had compelled her to employ Sidney to follow Emma, to gather evidence as a weapon for the anticipated battle with the Deputy. But the drums of war had given way to a newer beat that fluttered in her chest as she looked at the reporter now.

“My relationship with Deputy Swan has changed,” she said carefully, as Sidney’s eyes tracked her features, hurt glistening in their depths.

“Changed?” he echoed, tensing where he sat on the couch. “I heard rumors but I thought they were…” He shook his head wonderingly.

“Sidney,” Regina said pleasantly, but her eyes were cold and hard, “you know as well as I do that rumors are just that: the idle gossiping of people with nothing better to do. I suggest you turn your attentions from rumors to something more substantial.”

“Of course,” he nodded obediently, but he ducked his head and avoided her eyes, hoping to mask the hurt in his own.

“I need you to follow Mr Gold,” she told the reporter. Now he looked up at her with concern etching lines across his face. “I want to know everything he does: where he goes, who he talks to, what his plans are.”

“His plans? Plans for what?” Sidney was a little confused.

“Anything that might harm what we have here in Storybrooke,” Regina said sharply, leaning forwards over her desk. “Mr Gold’s grip in this town is becoming somewhat restrictive. I find his threats are somewhat less than idle. And I won’t be held to account by them, Sidney. You do understand, don’t you?”

He shook his head, mouth opening. He wasn’t sure that he did, quite frankly. Mr Gold had always existed alongside them for as far back as he could remember, making deals and holding others to them with the sort of power that only Regina could match or wield as easily as he did. But they had never been adversaries.

“You don’t want things to change, do you?” Regina purred, getting up from her seat and crossing the office to sit beside him once more. She gazed into his eyes and he saw in them all the terrible beauty that he was so drawn to.

“Haven’t we been happy until now?” she murmured, placing her hand over his.

Sidney shivered as her skin touched his own. Regina knew just how to tighten her hold over him. And he always let her. It was, after all, the only way he could show her the devotion he carried and always had done. So, as he nodded and a wolfish smile crept over her lips, he gave himself over to the knowledge that he would do anything to please her.

“I’ll get right on it.” He gave a firm nod of assertion and Regina’s hand slid from his own. “And Deputy Swan?” he asked, seeing how the mention of Emma caused a frown to flicker over Regina’s brow.

She rose from the couch, turning her back on him. “She’s of no interest to you,” she barked. “Not right now. If and when she becomes dangerous, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

Moving to the ornate mirror on the wall, Regina stared into it, seeing Sidney’s reflection at her back. Emma was dangerous; of that she was certain. But not in the ways she’d originally suspected, and absolutely not in ways that needed to involve Sidney Glass. The threat that Emma represented was far more pervasive than anything Regina might have initially dreamed up. There may still be a custody battle in her future with Emma, but the Mayor was sure that it wouldn’t be for Henry.

It would be for her very own self.

Part 28

Henry had allowed Regina to put him to bed, suffering her goodnight caresses with a stoicism that Emma found quite endearing. At least the kid was trying, she thought to herself as she lingered in the doorway to his bedroom. He’d promised that he would, but it was clear he was doing it for her sake rather than his own. There was a pained expression on his face as Regina drew the blankets up around him and kissed the top of his head, and as she drew away from his bed, Henry retreated into it as though it could offer him far more comfort than she ever could.

“Are you staying over?” he asked Emma tremulously. He needed her more than ever now that the Evil Queen had seduced her with wicked charms. Henry didn’t understand much about adult relationships and even less about why anyone would think that his adopted mother was capable of one. But, if Emma was going to be involved with the Evil Queen, then it might just be the White Knight who needed saving, in the end. And in his own tiny heart, Henry had already summoned up the courage to do just that, if he had to. A curse simply couldn’t be broken without it.

Emma, catching Regina’s eye as the Mayor walked towards the doorway of Henry’s room, shrugged at her son.

“That kind of depends on your mom, kid,” she said easily. As Regina passed her, Emma caught a faint scent of the perfume that Regina wore: as heavy and intoxicating as the woman herself was. Regina’s arm brushed against her own, their fingers almost touching, and Emma caught the merest smile ghosting over Regina’s mouth.

“In case you hadn’t noticed,” Emma continued, “I don’t actually live here.”

“Thank god,” Regina intoned, turning in the hallway and glancing over Emma’s shoulder. “One untidy child is quite enough, thank you.”

Emma rolled her eyes good–naturedly at Henry and he grinned at her. Everything was better with Emma around, he thought happily. Even the Evil Queen seemed less…well, evil. He could sense her cracking around the edges just like he sensed the curse doing the same. Change was in the air, like static energy, just waiting for the light to take hold and reduce the curse to burning ashes.

He couldn’t wait. Because then he’d finally get his happy ending.

“Go to sleep, Henry,” Regina said sternly, glancing at Emma as she did so. “No reading after we’re gone.”

“Breathing, however, is allowed,” Emma remarked, shaking her head and stifling a chuckle.

Regina let out an impatient sigh and tossed her head. “Thank you, Emma, for your useful input, as always.”

Emma folded her arms over her chest and winked across the room at Henry. “It’s why she keeps me around,” she nodded.

Henry saw the way that Regina looked at Emma; the way they looked at one another, too. His mouth turned down and he gripped his bedclothes, tugging them up over his body.

“Gross,” he muttered.

He didn’t see the strained expression that pulled at Regina’s features as she closed his bedroom door. Nor did he see the dark look in her eyes that followed it. She would hide it from Henry as she’d hidden it from Emma as best she could, for as long as she could. If this was her happy ending, then Regina intended to make it stretch out ahead of her until time got the better of them.

“I guess this means I’m staying over then,” Emma commented dryly as she rolled over in bed.

Regina opened her eyes, turning her head on the pillow to look at the woman beside her. “Does it?” she asked, a tiny smile puling at the corner of her mouth.

Emma shoved at her underneath the covers before sliding an arm across Regina’s torso. She rested her chin on the other woman’s shoulder, moving up against her so that their bodies were touching. It felt intimate, almost dangerously so. Something Emma had avoided in her life as much as possible.

Once the chase was over, she always lost interest. Commitment had never been an option. It represented longevity, setting down roots — that sort of domesticity had never been her thing. As a child, Emma had seen glimpses of it in her foster homes, a yearning for something that wasn’t rightly hers. But it hadn’t lasted.

After moving from home to home as frequently as her childhood and her nature dictated, nothing else ever had.

This was different, though. Emma knew it. She knew it in the way Regina looked at her, gaze heated and impassioned. She knew it in the routine they’d established without even recognizing that they’d done so. Emma had come to Storybrooke for Henry’s sake. But her desire to stay? That was for her own.

She might not trust Regina; she might not even like her very much, but a life with her in it was anything but dull. It was an odd sort of life, and one that Emma hadn’t anticipated, but she found herself intrigued enough by the other woman to allow that life some purchase on her heart and soul. All the things she’d always run from.

Even if, she thought, propping her head up on one hand, Regina was quite the most impossible woman she’d ever met.

“Are you ever going to tell me about Mr Gold?” she asked suddenly, as Regina’s eyes flicked open and she fixed Emma with a dark stare.

“Your idea of pillow talk needs some work, dear,” Regina said in a low tone of amused criticism. But her gaze was apprehensive and she shifted slightly in the bed, Emma’s fingers trailing across her abdomen.

“I just don’t understand why everyone’s so scared of him,” Emma persisted, as Regina let out an exasperated sigh, lips hardening into a tight line. “You wanted me to leave town to get away from him, Regina. And seeing as I’m not, I need to know what the Sheriff’s office is up against.”

“He’s a snake,” Regina told her. But she wouldn’t be drawn further.

“He came to see me this morning,” Emma continued, ignoring Regina’s expression of discontent. “Said he could be an ally.”

“Really,” Regina remarked. “I would think twice before getting into bed with him.”

“Yeah? I got into bed with you, didn’t I? That worked out pretty well.”

Regina sat up, twisting away from Emma’s embrace and clutching the bedclothes against her for a moment. “Well then, I’m sure you have nothing to worry about when it comes to Mr Gold.”

Rising from the bed, she walked across the room and pulled out her nightgown from the chest of drawers, pulling it on over her head and then leaning in to push at her hair in the mirror. She could see Emma’s reflection behind her, how the blonde was sitting up in bed and frowning.

“Come on, Regina,” Emma urged from across the room. “If he’s dangerous, then — ”

Regina let out a snort, tossing her head and turning to look at Emma. “Leave him alone, Emma. He’s not the sort of person you want against you.”

“You talk about him like he’s some sort of ogre,” Emma said, shaking her head. “I’m not afraid of him, and I’m not afraid of what he might do. As Mayor, don’t you think you should be supporting the Sheriff’s office instead of shutting down our investigation?”

Moving back to the bed, Regina slid underneath the covers and pulled them up over her body. Emma was gazing at her with curious eyes and Regina avoided them adroitly; some questions were best left unanswered. Some secrets, she decided, best left untold. Especially her own.

“As Mayor, dear,” Regina said patiently, “I work in the town’s best interests. Investigating Mr Gold isn’t conducive to that and won’t end well.” The condescension in her tone made Emma bristle, her body tensing, and she stared at Regina, shaking her head.

“So you just let him get away with making deals, taking advantage of people and doing whatever he wants?” Emma’s mouth was agape in appalled surprise. “How can you even tolerate that? You control everything in this town, Regina. But not him. Why?”

Truth was an odd thing, Regina thought to herself. The desire to share it, pervasive and unexpected, burning in her chest. But it was also the sole facet of her life that would ruin everything: this intimacy, Emma’s affection, her own growing feelings. No matter how much she might want to earn Emma’s trust, confessing the truth wouldn’t do that. Because Regina’s truth was dark, black with murderous intent, stained with the blood of those she’d conquered.

She doubted that Emma could or would ever forgive that.

“He’s a necessary evil,” she said quietly, as Emma drew close to her.

“A necessary evil?” the blonde echoed, as Regina settled in the bed and lay her head onto the pillow. “Regina, evil isn’t necessary. Nobody should have to live with that.”

A sad smile crossed Regina’s lips and she reached up, sliding her palm over Emma’s naked shoulder. The other woman leaned into her touch and for a moment, it felt like comfort that passed between them. But it wouldn’t last; the good never did. And in a life that had been betrayed by good and nurtured by evil, there was no doubt in Regina’s mind that Emma would fall prey to Mr Gold sooner or later.

It troubled the Mayor that she knew she wanted to prevent it almost as much as she knew that it was an inevitability. Because good and evil were always at one another’s backs, each trying to assert their will over those who were weak. And as someone who had succumbed to the rich intoxication of blackness and commandeered evil for her own gain, Regina knew only too well its endless depth and danger. It had changed her in ways she barely wanted to contemplate, much less expose.

The last thing she wanted was for Emma to see it, lest it might change her, too.

“I know you think you can change the world, Emma,” Regina said softly, an underlying tenderness in her voice. “And you think you can change the people in it, too.”

“No,” Emma shook her head, grasping Regina’s hand in her fingers and squeezing it. “I just want to do what’s right; what’s good. That’s what I do. That’s what I’m here for.”

Her voice was quietly impassioned, her fervency clear. It shouldn’t have moved Regina in the way that it did; it shouldn’t have touched and tugged at her chest. As she looked down at their joined hands, Regina knew with a creeping dread that Emma had changed her, too. That she would never be the same again. That love, in all its forms, had taken up residence in her heart and broken it. Her life had been so lonely, carved from desperation and anger. She’d forgotten how to love.

Remembering was just too painful to contemplate.

Pulling her hand from Emma’s, Regina hunkered down in the bed under the covers, isolated, alone.

“If you really want to do what’s right,” she said, “then you’ll leave this alone. You’ll tell Graham to leave this alone.”

Emma frowned at the space in between them, barely inches and yet it felt like miles. She watched as Regina turned, facing away from her, the hitching of her shoulders the only indication that the Mayor felt anything at all. It would be easy to allow the emptiness between them to take hold, to let it separate and split them and push them further apart.

But hadn’t there been enough of that in their lives already? Hadn’t they both ached with solitude for so many years that it had become second nature?

With a decisive gleam in her eyes, Emma scrambled forwards on the bed, sliding down behind Regina and thrusting an arm around the other woman. She felt Regina stiffen, but there was little resistance to the warmth of her body, her breath on Regina’s neck and the touch of her fingers on the faint swell of a belly.

“Once upon a time, you told me to leave you alone,” Emma whispered, hearing Regina sigh and wondering at how pained it was, how full of regret and grief such a tiny sound could be. As she rested her head against Regina’s upper back and closed her eyes, Emma listened to the sound of their breathing, slowly becoming synchronized.

A few moments passed before Regina shifted slightly, reaching down to lay her hand over Emma’s.

“You should have listened,” she said. Then, taking her hand from the one that pressed against her body, Regina reached up and turned off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness.

Part 29

The bell at the door tinkled merrily as Regina marched into Mr Gold’s shop. Pushing the door shut rather more firmly than was necessary, she turned the ‘open’ sign around so they wouldn’t be disturbed. Or, rather, she turned on her heel and walked towards the counter, so she wouldn’t be disturbed. Because her intentions towards Mr Gold were not so considerate, nor were they filled with the pretense of benevolence that she proffered towards the rest of the town.

He looked up from behind his counter, smiling at her approach. He’d expected this, sooner or later. The fact that it was sooner meant that he’d managed to rattle the Mayor rather more quickly than anticipated.. Ah well, he thought to himself; everything had a price and it appeared that he’d found Regina’s.

His lips stretched wide in genuine pleasure. This would make bartering all the more enjoyable.

“Regina!” Gold spread his arms wide in greeting as she met his gaze with a scowl. “You look like a woman with purpose in her stride and rage in her soul. How lovely.”

“We need to talk,” Regina said shortly, placing her hands onto the counter and leaning over it.

“Of course,” Gold nodded obligingly. “I’m always happy to consult with the Mayor whenever required.”

“And the Deputy,” Regina’s chin jutted out in accusation and for a moment, Gold’s eyes flickered with something akin to malevolent intent. She made note of it and felt her heart contract for a second. He wasn’t supposed to remember — nobody was. Yet, it seemed that, for a fleeting moment, Gold knew everything she’d been, recognized who she was and what she’d done.

“Yes,” she nodded. “I know you went to see her. Spreading more lies about me, I assume?”

He turned from her gaze and, grabbing his cane, wandered to the end of the counter where he picked over some trinkets he’d gathered.

“It occurred to me that I never properly welcomed our new Deputy,” he remarked in a conversational tone. Glancing up at Regina, he smiled again, baring his teeth. “I fear I lacked the warmth of your welcome, however.”

He was sly now, looking at her with a hooded gaze. His inference was clear and it burned white hot in Regina’s chest. Gold’s way was to sully everything, to make it tawdry and meaningless, like the detritus of human life he gathered in his shop.

“You’re a bastard,” she spat at him.

Gold chuckled to himself and had the audacity to shrug under the weight of her dark eyes.

“Funny how I don’t seem to remember you being quite so rude when I was helping you get your heart’s desire,” he intoned, lifting a ring up before his eyes and staring at it with interest, turning it around in his fingers. He hummed his appreciation of it before looking over at Regina again. “I’m talking about Henry, of course,” he added, “and not your current… shall we call it a predilection?”

“You don’t call it anything!” Regina smacked her hands down onto the counter before turning and walking over to where he stood. At this proximity, literally vibrating with fury, she made an imposing adversary and she knew it. But Gold merely blinked, unaffected, only serving to add more fuel to Regina’s ire.

“My private life is no longer any of your business,” she hissed. “Our agreement was paid in full.”

Gold’s eyebrows rose but he said nothing, replacing the ring he held among the items on the counter in front of him with a delicate, deliberate touch. By the time he lifted his gaze to look at Regina, her features were twisted into an expression of malice that he recognized only too well.

“I’m always willing to strike a new bargain if the price is right,” he murmured softly, almost to himself. “So what can I do for you today, Mayor Mills?” He even bowed his head a little in a play at deference, but his eyes gleamed with the prospect of the oncoming storm. Because, no matter what direction in which Regina chose to move, and no matter where her emotions might lead her, Gold knew that they were all tumbling towards a tempest that just might consume them all, should they let it.

“Leave Emma Swan alone,” she demanded, her voice low and grated. “She has nothing to do with this…with you and I.”

“On the contrary,” Gold spoke up, shaking his head. “She’s the one who insists that I have something to hide.”

“She doesn’t run the Sheriff’s office. Graham does.”

Now Gold laughed, the sound brittle, like dry leaves. “Regina,” he said in a coaxing tone, “come now. We both know that’s not true. The Sheriff’s office doesn’t do anything you don’t want it to. Graham is your pet. And as for Emma Swan, well…”

As his voice trailed away, he fixed her with a knowing look. “Well I’m sure we don’t quite know what Emma Swan is to you yet.”

She tried not to, but Regina couldn’t help herself and she visibly flinched at the idea of precisely what Emma might mean to her, should she let it. The tiny huff of acknowledgement from Gold informed her that, when it came to Emma, her feelings were written as clearly across her face as was the aching pain that followed them; the understanding that some things were just not meant to be. That they couldn’t co–exist in a world she’d created from such overwhelming bitterness and sorrow.

“You need to make this go away, Regina,” Gold stated, bringing the Mayor out of her reverie, gaze darting back to his smug features once more. “Do you really want our noble Deputy knowing everything about you? About your associations with me? About how we’ve made this town ours?”

The threat was obvious. The consequences, palpable. Were she to allow Gold to reveal her true nature — the wrongs that she’d done, the games she’d played to exert her control over Storybrooke — then she simply couldn’t trust that Emma would see past them. That whatever it was they felt for one another was strong enough to endure it.

But she drew herself up to her full height, staring him down with a strength that coursed through her with blackened memories of potent powers that she no longer possessed. And she saw him, then, not as the pawnbroker and the dealmaker that he was now, but as the shriveled, evil thing that she had bargained with long ago and far away.

“She’d never believe you,” Regina said slowly, her voice thick with renewed anger.

“Maybe not,” Gold shrugged. “If you’re willing to take that chance. Love is betrayal, after all.” He leaned over the counter towards her, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you, Regina?”

She said nothing, caught between the desire to prove him wrong and the unsettling knowledge that what he said was right. Love was fleeting, never meant to last. It was why she’d seized all the happy endings that ever existed and obliterated them in favor of seeking her own.

A curse was a curse, after all. And the final dark smoke of the spell she’d cast seemed to wind around her now as she met Gold’s eyes and saw the unerring truth in his eyes. It turned to stone, weighing heavily on her shoulders and giving her no other choice but to keep her secrets where they belonged, locked in the vault of her heart.

“I might be willing to make a deal,” Mr Gold said, picking up another item from the pile in front of him and inspecting it with curious eyes. “For the right price, of course.”

Regina clenched her hands into fists down by her sides and glared at him. “I’m through making deals with you,” she said.

Gold laughed, replacing the trinket in his hand and looking at Regina as though she was uncommonly stupid.

“There are always deals to be made,” he said quietly. “But how about I offer you a choice, hm?”

“A choice?”

“Yes,” he nodded, and his lips parted in a rictus smile. “You and I are more alike than you think, Regina. We both like to keep our lives private, especially the parts of our life that might give others cause for concern. Secrets exist for a reason, you see. They protect us from the bad things that might happen to those who choose to expose them.”

The malicious glint in his eyes was almost too much to bear and Regina found herself gripping the edge of the counter with desperate fingers, skin turning white under the pressure she exerted.

“Your boy,” Gold jerked his chin at her, “and Emma Swan. I’d hate for them to fall foul of that.”

“If you harm Henry…” Regina’s eyes faded to pitch black, “…if you harm either of them, then I’ll — ”

“Please.” Gold held up his hand to halt her threat, shaking his head slowly. “I’m not in the business of harming people, Regina. I’m here to help. To keep things as they always were. I know that’s what you want too.”

“No.” He threw back his shoulders and looked around his shop, at the belongings of others he’d crammed inside it, layers of lives heaped upon shelves and hanging from the ceiling. “I’m merely suggesting that we can come to an agreement that’s mutually beneficial.”

He eyed her carefully and knew from the expression that flitted across her face that the deal had already been made. But, he reminded himself, it was the detail that mattered; the fine point, the small print of a contract that would bind Regina to him once more in irrevocable word and deed.

“What do you want?” Her tone was resigned, voice breaking over the question even as she knew what it was he would ask for.

Gold made a show of thinking for a minute, just to torture her. Then he looked at her, his eyes as dark as his heart.

“Deputy Swan needs to know that there are limits to the extent of my patience,” Gold began, his voice repugnantly silken. “That we protect the things we love…the people we love.”

He quirked a brow at her and Regina stiffened, thinking of Henry, of Emma, of the weaknesses they had placed in her heart.

“I’d say that the Sheriff’s office could stand to suffer some collateral damage to help us do that, wouldn’t you say?”

“And just what am I supposed to do?” Regina barked. “Graham won’t give up merely because I tell him to. He’s hunting you down.”

Her lip curled and she gave a sneering laugh. “He’s really quite tenacious once he gets a scent for a case.”

Gold nodded and reached for his cane, curling his fingers around the top of it. “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” he murmured. “Something permanent. A warning, if you like. I’d hate to think of poor Emma wandering into a situation quite beyond her capabilities.”

He smiled, now, satisfied and confident. Love. It would always prove to be a weapon more powerful and deadly than hatred ever could.

“Accidents will happen,” he said casually, waving his hand in the air. “Even in Storybrooke. So won’t you indulge me, dear?”

He could see the defiance in her eyes, hard and bright. But he met it head on and his smile widened. “Please,” he said.

Time hung between them, spinning out like a whirlwind. Finally, Regina took a breath and stared at Gold.

“You disgust me,” she muttered, acquiescence rising like acid in her throat.

“Great power requires great sacrifice,” Gold intoned, as she turned on her heel and stalked towards the door. “You know what you love. Now go protect it.”

The bell tinkled again and the door crashed shut behind Regina’s exit. Mr Gold smirked. “Or destroy it,” he added.

Henry scampered up the pathway towards the house as Emma locked the car. He left the front door open, obviously waiting for her to follow. She couldn’t help smiling somewhat affectionately; despite his reservations and open, loud protestations when he thought Regina wasn’t listening, Henry welcomed Emma’s presence at the house. He’d even begun, albeit grudgingly, to entertain the notion that his mothers had something distinct and separate to their relationship with him. But his belief in the fairytales that had made him seek out Emma in the first place was unshakeable and he eyed Regina with greater suspicion than before, fearing for the safety of his White Knight.

Emma saw how it pained Regina; how the boy was steadfast in his ideas and clung to them with unwavering determination. The Mayor might be prickly, stubborn and with a tongue so sharp it could slice through the thickest armor, but Emma still wasn’t sure that she was evil, as Henry claimed.

She’d seen the woman in the moments that nobody else had: passionate moments that ran through Emma’s memory, leaving a shivering thrill in their wake; vulnerable moments in which Regina’s inherent sadness and loneliness seemed less like the Evil Queen of Henry’s imaginings and more like a woman who had entered into battle and emerged with scars that simply wouldn’t heal or fade away.

It was sometimes hard to discern which of these moments had made Emma fall for Regina so hard, so quickly, so irrevocably. Because she had done just that, she told herself, mouth forming a grim line of acceptance. She’d always suspected that love wasn’t easy — she’d had so little of it in her life, mistaken sex for intimacy one too many times for her to ever consider love a real option. Loving someone just threw up far too many problematic issues that she still hadn’t figured out to her own satisfaction.

Loving Regina? Well, that just made the entire prospect even more confusing.

She closed the front door of Regina’s home with a click just as her cellphone began to trill in her pocket. Fishing it out, she glanced briefly at the caller ID before holding it up to her ear as she made her way across the hallway.

“Hey Graham, what’s up?”

“I think I’ve found something."

“Yeah?” Emma peered into the study. It was empty. But she knew Regina was home because her car was in the driveway. Wandering across the foyer, she made for the Mayor’s office. “Something on Gold?”

“Yeah."

Graham sounded reluctant to elucidate any further and Emma’s frown deepened. She rounded the doorway to Regina’s office and saw the Mayor at her desk, papers strewn across it, head bent over them.

“Well…are you gonna tell me or is it a secret?” she half laughed. At the sound of her voice, Regina looked up from her desk and Emma lifted a hand in greeting.

“I don’t want to say too much until I know for sure. I’m heading up to the tracts of land just off Access Road fifteen. Gold owns most of the forest up there."

“Isn’t that…you know, trespassing?” Emma moved into the room, Regina’s eyes following her every step, darkly curious.

“Police business gives me a little leeway. Don’t worry, I’ll be safe."

“Right,” Emma grunted, “because Gold is known for his open and forgiving nature. Anyway, it’s gonna be dark soon.”

“I know the woods better than anyone in Storybrooke. I’ll be fine."

“Okay, well call me if you find something or…or if you need me.”

“Will do."

Ending the call, Emma shoved her phone back into her back pocket and turned to see Regina staring at her with a hint of worry in her eyes.

“Who was that?” she asked, as Emma drew closer to the desk and sank into a chair placed beside it.

“Graham. He’s following up a lead on Gold.” Emma stretched out her legs across the floor and shrugged dismissively. “He’s doing the strong and silent thing and not telling me what it is, though.”

Her mouth quirked up in a grin. “You know what he’s like.”

“Indeed I do.”

Regina returned the smile Emma proffered, but it spread tightly across her lips and barely reached her eyes at all. Panic clutched at her chest with sudden, icy fingers and she knew in a rush of realization that time was no longer her ally. Oh yes; she knew Graham all too well. She’d suffered his defiant betrayal, scorned the nobility and kindness in his heart and then taken it for her own, to do with what she willed. To do with him what she willed, too. She’d wrested his heart and his choice from his chest without so much as a second thought for anything but to assuage her own anger and need for recompense.

A heart for a heart. The truest and most enduring trade Regina had ever known. She’d always stolen them without ever burdening her own with guilt or forgiveness. Those emotions were useless to her, anyway; a weakness she was adamant she would never fall prey to again.

And yet, she mused, as Emma picked at some of the papers on her desk, frowning at them in vague interest, to save her own heart it seemed that she must ultimately destroy another. It was a bittersweet pill to swallow.

“So,” Emma said suddenly, shoving the papers in her hand back onto the desk, “dinner? Henry’s doing homework.”

Regina’s eyebrows lifted and she took a breath, steadying herself. Secrets and lies, she reminded herself. All the things she never wanted Emma to discover.

“You’ve got him well trained,” she commented rather dryly.

Emma rose from her chair and grinned at Regina. “I’m being responsible, Madame Mayor,” she intoned. “Besides, you’ve got a pretty good schedule going with him; figured I don’t want to mess that up.”

Shuffling the papers on her desk, Regina glanced up at Emma and couldn’t resist a smile, one that was rather more genuine and given without a black agenda behind it. She pushed her chair back and stood up, walking across the office and towards the door, Emma loping behind her.

“Am I hearing things or did you just pay me a compliment, Deputy?” Regina drawled.

She was almost at the door when a hand latched onto her elbow, stopping her and spinning her around. Before she knew it, Regina was pressed up against the doorway, wooden frame digging into her back. Emma was close, hips bumping against her own and Regina found herself a little breathless.

“You’re hearing things,” Emma murmured, her gaze meeting Regina’s and holding it. “Because I would never…”

“I thought as much,” Regina hummed, her hands disappearing under Emma’s jacket to slide around her waist. “For a moment there I thought you were losing your touch.”

Emma’s lips traced a line over Regina’s jaw as the Mayor’s head lolled back on her neck, exposing its long, slender lines. Dragging her mouth up the length of it, Emma chuckled.

“Nah,” she breathed, as Regina’s fingernails scraped at her shirt, “just gaining a new one.”

She felt Regina’s breath on her cheek before the sound of a ragged sigh met her ears. It echoed in her chest, tiny explosions of feeling hurtling through her body. She was oddly moved by it — by the intrinsic need they had for one another. It was a need that obliterated everything else: all the deep–seated fears and suspicions that Emma might have, all the things that remained hidden between them. And it occurred to her that, should she allow it, being with Regina might just chase all of that away forever.

Leaning back, Emma saw a flush on Regina’s cheeks, brown eyes clouding unexpectedly. She frowned.

“Everything okay?”

Pushing at Emma, Regina extricated herself from their embrace and tugged at her shirt. She avoided the enquiring gaze from the blonde and lifted a hand, smoothing at her hair.

“Of course.” It wasn’t the first lie she’d told Emma. It wouldn’t be the last, either.

If Emma suspected anything, she chose not to pursue it, instead taking a step back and allowing Regina through the doorway into the hallway beyond.

“Can you watch Henry for a while?” Regina threw over her shoulder.

“Uh, sure,” Emma shrugged. “I thought we were going to have dinner together.”

“We will.” Regina seemed distracted, glancing at her watch and sighing to herself. She made her way towards the huge hallway of her home and shook her head impatiently. “I just have somewhere to be.”

Stopping in front of the huge mirror in the hall, Regina reached for her keys where they lay on the table underneath it. Her reflection stared back at her for a moment, appearing as hard and unforgiving as her own heart was.

Regina looked away. She needed no reminders of who she was; her memories had not yet faded, especially those that had been carved in the blood–stained destruction of her old life.

Grabbing her coat, Regina steeled herself, adopting the mask that she’d always worn as a shield against the world. Against Emma, too.

“I won’t be long,” she said. “Take care of Henry, won’t you?”

“I will,” Emma frowned. “It’s kind of late for a meeting, isn’t it? Where are you going?”

Regina paused at the door, back rigid and features strained. This time, she didn’t turn around for fear that her mask would slip, that Emma might see past it and into the darkness that lay beneath.

“Just a little business to take care of,” she said, twisting the door handle and opening it so she could step outside. “Nothing for you to worry about, dear.”

Part 30

Graham pushed aside some branches and took a few halting steps forwards, squinting through the leaves to where the forest grew deeper and thicker. The late afternoon sun was fading and shadows crept around trees where mossy bark twisted into wicked shapes and branches reached out for him with questing, pointed fingers.

The ground rustled underfoot, dead wood and leaves crisp beneath his gait. He paused, listening intently to the sound of the forest. It had always strangely comforted him, as though he belonged there somehow.

Tonight, however, he lifted his head, a frown across his brow. There was something wrong. He’d felt it before: an unsettling chill that had descended over his shoulders like a hoar frost, cold and portentous.

It encased him like an icy tomb now more than ever. Especially here. Any comfort he might have gleaned from the nature that surrounded him was gone.

Through the trees, he thought he saw movement; a brief, flickering shape in his peripheral vision. Blinking, Graham shook his head and, in a moment, it had disappeared.

Taking a breath, he felt determination rise in his gut and forged forwards, heading further into the darkening woods.

Everything was just as she’d left it, even down to the dying flowers placed on her father’s stone sarcophagus. Regina ran her hand over the surface; it was cold to the touch and she felt its chill even through the leather gloves she wore. Nobody ever came here; there was no reason for them to. She had built a monument to her own crimes, towering over the headstones in the graveyard and casting a shadow that would never fade, not even under the brightest sunshine.

She placed both hands onto the stone, spreading her gloved fingers out across it and trying to stem their trembling. Regina remembered how it felt, then; how the raging power coursing through her veins had urged her to steal hearts and lives, to destroy everything that was held dear. Memory shivered through her and she felt it tugging at her conscience, a dark mist sweeping across the landscape of her heart and mind.

Bracing herself on the floor of the crypt, Regina pushed hard and, with a grating noise, the sarcophagus began to slide backwards.

He felt the presence of the wolf even before he saw it, a lone gray shape slipping between the trees. Scrambling and tripping through the woods now, Graham found himself bumping up against the solid trunks of trees that had been there longer than he had — longer than any of them had. Their ancient stature seemed to close in on him for a moment and he gasped for air, surging forwards, trying to catch a glimpse of the animal that appeared to elude his efforts with cunning and stealth.

Pausing briefly, hand splayed out on the nearest tree, Graham felt beads of sweat form on his forehead. He was feverish, hot and cold at the same time. Nausea rose in his throat and he swallowed over it. The unsettling feeling that had haunted him for longer than he even knew returned, tugging at his brain and his heart with unerring intensity.

He looked wildly around him, hearing nothing but the far–off fluttering wings of a bird taking flight, the rustling of leaves as branches waved in a twilight breeze and his own, labored breathing. The forest seemed to throw sound back at him for a moment, mocking his increasing sense of panic.

And then, he heard it, reaching him through the trees: the mournful, hollow sound of a howling wolf. Melancholy touched him, exploding in his chest and he pressed his fist against his heart as though he could stem the tide of sudden emotion flooding through it. He’d never felt this way. It seemed as though he’d never felt anything before now.

Leaning forwards, he retched and panted for air, his head swimming. Everything that had been missing for years whirled around him in a kaleidoscope of feeling, hurtling through his body and weakening him to the point where he could barely stand.

The wolf howled again. Louder, this time. Closer.

With difficulty, Graham lifted his head and saw the creature standing just a few yards away. One red eye; one blue. And if he believed that animals had souls, he might have thought the wolf’s was reaching out to him through the forest. They gazed steadily at one another, Graham transfixed as time spun around him.

The wolf let out a whine, a pitiful sound that caused Graham’s heart to clench in his chest. Then it turned and trotted away through the trees.

Graham had no option other than to follow it.

The glow inside the crypt came from a staircase that led downward into the depths of Storybrooke. Regina hadn’t come here for years; she’d never found it necessary. Time had always been under her control, frozen and cold, as she was. But as she stepped onto the stone staircase and made her way down it, Regina knew that the curse was breaking, weakening around the edges. That she, the instigator of it, was breaking as well. As she descended, a damp, creeping chill grasped at her with cold fingers. But there was inherent power in it; ancient echoes of the woman she had been, the evils she’d enacted.

By the time she reached the foot of the stairs, Regina felt all that she’d hidden away seeping into her very bones with its potency and strength. She’d buried the remnants of her kingdom and the lives she’d stolen underneath the town, building over it and creating something new, something she so desperately wanted to believe in. Being with Emma had begun to peel back those layers and Regina hated how it felt, stripped bare against her will.

She followed the underground tunnel to where it opened out into a room, guarded only by heavy velvet curtains. Pushing them aside, she stopped, gazing at the wall in front of her. It was lined with symmetrical little doors from floor to ceiling, each one a tiny coffin in which she’d placed the hearts of all those she’d conquered. It was easy, she thought, to immerse herself in what had been; to allow the past to obliterate her future and stain her present with lies and deceit.

Evil never really died. The air down here was thick with it, filling Regina’s lungs with every breath she took, lying on her tongue with the stale taste of dead things. But it lived in her, she knew. It always had. She was rotten to the core, displaced and demeaned by the knowledge that she would never really be free of it. Nor it of her. She was bound to it in the way one might be to a lover; in the way that she felt herself connected to Emma.

But even as her heart clenched inside her breast at the emotion she held so dear, even as she pictured Emma and Henry and felt herself sway towards redemption, Regina knew that she would refuse it. For the sake of their love, she would again allow the blackness in her heart to smother it.

Reaching up, Regina opened one of the doors, sliding out the box that lay behind it. Holding it in her hands, she stared at it for a moment with eyes that faded to a darker, more familiar hue. She flipped the clasp up and opened the box, the glowing heart inside painting colors over her features that rippled across pale skin and desperate, maddened eyes.

She’d always been a woman of extremes. Always been a slave to her emotions, in the end, running in whichever direction they sought to lead her. But she’d tried to protect her own heart by locking it away inside her chest forever, the shackles of bitterness and betrayal casting heavy chains around it that would never be broken.

Only now, they were. And so was she.

Graham dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around himself. The wolf had disappeared again, even though he’d plunged deeper into the forest than ever before. He was alone now, hearing nothing but the thudding of his heart in his ears as though he was coming alive again.

Closing his eyes, he fought the urge to throw up, images flashing against his closed lids that he simply didn’t understand. Another forest, another him; he could almost feel the bow in his hand and the pointed tip of an arrow on his fingers. But more than that, he experienced an overwhelming sense of prescient terror that would not be assuaged.

Letting out a groan, he scrubbed at his eyes with a closed fist as though the action might make the images disappear. But they were relentless, racing through his mind’s eye in a torrent of remembrance. He saw Mary Margaret, only it wasn’t her at all but instead a woman with fire in her eyes and sorrow in her heart. He saw Regina, resplendent and wicked in a castle as black and lonely as she was. And he saw himself again, dressed in furs with the blood of a slaughtered animal splashed across his palms.

He held out his hands in front of him now, staring at them as though expecting to see them covered in red stains. It was like waking from a long sleep, he thought abstractedly. Like plunging into a newer nightmare. He heard his own voice again, lifted in anguish and swallowed by the thick, verdant forest around him.

“Sheriff Graham.” A rustling on the blanket of leaves close by made him lift his head and he saw Mr Gold standing near, gazing at him with amused curiosity. “You don’t look at all well.”

Another image flashed through his brain, this time of Mr Gold. Only it wasn’t the businessman that appeared in his mind’s eye, it was a crooked figure bearing a malevolent grin, gazing at him with malicious intent in black eyes.

“You!” Graham gasped, struggling to his feet. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Mr Gold said, taking a step forwards and leaning heavily on his cane. “This is my land, after all.”

“There was a wolf…” Graham was confused, almost incoherent. His heart pounded in his chest and he reached up, laying his hand over his jacket.

“A wolf?” Mr Gold laughed incredulously, shaking his head. “There are no wolves in this forest, Sheriff. Not for many years now. Perhaps you’re seeing things. Things that don’t exist. Rather like your attempts to investigate me, one might say.”

“What are you?” Graham hissed, his chest beginning to ache. He blinked, rubbing at his eyes again, trying to dispel the image of Gold that had flickered through his mind.

Gold threw out his hand and gestured around him at the forest. “I’m simply a landowner,” he said evenly. “And you’re a trespasser.”

“I’m the Sheriff,” Graham said, wincing at the growing pain within him. “And I will find out who you are. It’s my job to protect — ”

He gasped, doubling over as his heart clenched agonizingly.

“Protect?” Gold enquired, taking another step closer to the Sheriff. “Oh, my dear boy, the town doesn’t need protection from me. But…you already know that, don’t you?” He smiled as Graham lurched forwards again with a low moan of hurt.

“I remember,” Graham said, sinking to his knees again. “I remember everything.”

The heart in her hand was throbbing frantically as though it could sense its own fate. She’d removed her glove and felt it moving against her skin as she held it up before her eyes; remembering how it felt to hold life in the balance, so precious and fragile.

Power without restraint had always been her passion, the great seduction that she had never resisted. A conscience was a terrible thing, after all. And she’d acted without it for so long that to feel its prickle at the back of her neck now seemed like too little, too late.

Determination hardened her jaw and mingled with the darkness in her eyes as she gazed at the heart, watching it beat in a frenzied manner against her fingers. Evil had always been her savior; the constancy of it steadying her and making her strong. It wasn’t the impassioned insistence of a body against her own that gave her succor, nor was it the caress of a lover in her bed. It was this; only this. It would protect her against Gold’s threats and the fear that, were her truer nature revealed to Emma, then everything she’d created in her own image would be taken from her.

Fear was one of her greatest, most pervasive enemies. But she refused to submit to it now. Her actions were justifiable; her longing untenable. She was no longer afraid of the way she felt about Emma and Henry, she was consumed by it. Protecting it meant doing anything, meant allowing the evil inside her to take hold once more. Down here, in this dank room, she could be the Evil Queen again and nobody would try to vanquish her. An Evil Queen who felt an almost unbearable love in her own heart. An Evil Queen who would sacrifice anything to cherish it.

When she squeezed the heart, Regina felt it beat faster in her hand, a pounding plea for freedom, for lenience and a grace that she simply didn’t possess. Not anymore.

Her grip increased and she found a strange delight in watching its light burn brightly one last time before flickering and dying. Before the heart turned to dust and fell like ashes from her skin.

“I know who you are,” Graham moaned, looking at Gold through blurring, anguished eyes.

“Do you now.” It wasn’t a question, only a statement of intent as Gold drew closer and stood over Graham as the Sheriff sank to the ground, writhing in pain.

“I know who everyone is…who I am…”

“Yes,” Gold nodded. “I thought you might. It’s a terrible curse, isn’t it? Memory. The things we carry around with us, locked deep within.” He lifted a hand, tapping a fingertip against his temple in a slow, deliberate manner.

Graham’s eyes flew open in terror as he looked up at the man standing over him, casting a long shadow in the failing light.

“You know,” he hissed. “You know, don’t you?”

Gold merely shrugged, clasping his hands together over the top of his cane. “I know lots of things, Sheriff. I just choose not to share them.” His features hardened now, becoming angular in the darkening woods.

But Graham couldn’t answer, not any more. His mouth opened in protest but the only sound that emerged was one final, whistling breath as the pain became too much and too strong to fight. He felt himself falling, sinking onto the carpet of leaves underneath him and he surrendered to it, memories of his subservience dragging him to the ground and shrouding him in an all–encompassing blackness.

Mr Gold watched as the Sheriff’s last breath left his body and dipped his head in a mocking salute. There was no nobility in Graham’s death; no credence given to the life he’d once led. But there was dark pleasure in his gaze as it traveled up the length of Graham’s body and lingered over the Sheriff’s wide, unseeing eyes.

“You see,” he remarked, a faint smile pulling at his mouth. “I remember too.”

Part 31

It was Emma who found Graham’s body.

Her calls to him had gone unanswered and his absence overnight gave rise to a search party, hastily formed by the Deputy in a growing sense of panic. The group of townspeople had headed up to the land outside Storybrooke, following Emma’s instructions as to where she thought Graham had gone. Fanning out through the forest, nobody had paid any heed to the boundaries of Mr Gold’s property. Graham was popular, well–liked and trusted. All that mattered was his safe return.

In retrospect, Emma would have admitted that her expectations were low. As soon as she entered the woods, she was filled with a growing sense of dread that they were all too late. And even though she was the instigator of the search, by the time she was out of earshot of the rest of the group, a lump of worry formed in her throat and didn’t go away.

It was only when she stumbled across Graham’s body, cold and damp from the last vestiges of the night, that she sank to her knees and sobbed openly.

She hadn’t cried like that in a long time.

His funeral was a somber affair. Almost everyone in town attended and the cemetery was crowded with faces Emma recognized, all of them downcast, many of them contorted in grief. Mary Margaret had stood by her throughout the memorial service, gripping her arm tightly, features drawn in pale sorrow.

Across the open mouth of the grave, Emma watched Regina. The Mayor was clad in black, stoic and stern–faced like some sort of specter. She had her arm around Henry’s shoulders, the white tips of her fingers as she gripped him the only sign of any emotion. Even though her heart was heavy and tears prickled at the back of her eyes, Emma yearned for Regina. She longed to reach out to her, for the simplicity of physical contact that would bring warmth to the surrounding chill.

But from the moment that they’d brought Graham’s body back to town, Regina had been distant, her face set in grim lines of brittle detachment. Any conversation that they’d shared had been stilted, almost awkward. Grief, it seemed, did not sit well with the Mayor.

There had been a small gathering at Granny’s, but Emma had slipped away, unable to bring herself to share more than a few words with anyone. Mary Margaret had fussed over her with worried, tear–stained eyes and Emma had accepted the woman’s affection with a polite smile. She’d left the diner before the attentions of her friends became unbearable; before her grief threatened to overwhelm her completely.

Creeping into the Sheriff’s office, Emma sat at her desk with a copy of Graham’s autopsy report and a bottle of bourbon. It didn’t matter how many times she went over the report, the results printed in black and white refused to change. He’d died from natural causes; congenital heart failure, the autopsy had revealed. His heart, that had shown such great kindness to Emma had, quite simply, given out on him.

Shoving the report away from her with numbing fingers, Emma didn’t bother with a glass and simply lifted the bottle of bourbon to her mouth, taking a deep gulp. She winced as the liquid burned down her throat and slammed the bottle back onto the desk. It was half empty now, yet still her grief glistened in eyes that filled with hot, angry tears. In the past, Emma had always used alcohol to soften the sharp edges of her pain, but it wasn’t working anymore.

She glared at the bottle of bourbon as though it, and not the absence of Graham’s calming presence, was at fault. The Sheriff had been the first person in Storybrooke to extend the hand of friendship and community. It had been on his insistence that she’d become a more permanent part of the town; his gentle nature had softened her own and without him, Emma wondered if the connection she’d established to the welfare of the town might just falter and fade away completely.

Emma reached up, rubbing a hand over her face, cheeks sticky and hot from tears and alcohol mingled in a crimson flush across her skin. She looked at the bottle and grimaced. It wouldn’t do for anyone to see her like this; it was why she’d left the gathering at Granny’s. Her solitary life had always given her the freedom to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. Here in Storybrooke, she need never be lonely again.

But she felt a sudden, brief longing for the life she used to live, where nobody hurt her because she simply wouldn’t let them in long enough to do so. Where she’d never had to adopt the mantle of friend, lover, mother —

Henry.

Emma’s head jerked up and she straightened in her chair with some difficulty. What if Henry came looking for her? What if someone else did? She knew that she must make for a sorry sight, intoxicated and miserable and not at all the hero that Henry expected her to be.

Graham’s death might have removed hope from her own life. But she was an adult; she’d cope. Henry, though, was too sensitive to have his hope taken away and survive it intact. Should he see her this way, then his faith in her would be utterly shaken.

Muttering to herself, Emma shoved her chair back, swaying dangerously as she got to her feet, grabbing onto the edge of the desk for support. Head swimming a little, she reached for the bottle of bourbon and made her way to one of the interview rooms on the other side of the office. They were enclosed, protected; she could hide away in there as long as she wanted without the fear of being found.

Besides, she consoled herself, there was no way she could drive home now. Not when her gait was uneven and she lurched, rather than walked, towards the room.

She just wanted to be alone. Just wanted Graham back. Just wanted to be away from here and all the emotional ties she’d made without even knowing it.

There were chairs in the interview room, placed either side of a long table in the center. Emma stared at them for a moment, rocking back and forth on her heels before shaking her head and instead sliding down the wall until she was sitting on the floor. Her leg shot out and kicked the door shut, the room plunging into a sudden darkness. She squinted, her eyes adjusting to the gloom, sickly lamplight from the street barely making any difference through the single, tiny window high up on the wall.

Lifting the bottle to her lips again, Emma swallowed another mouthful of bourbon. She remembered days and nights when alcohol had been an escape, a way to alleviate the gaping loneliness in her life.

Tonight, it simply wasn’t enough to numb the pain.

She leaned her head back against the wall and closed her eyes, a dizzy feeling speeding through her body. With a sigh, Emma knew that she’d probably regret this in the morning, just like she’d always done. Mornings when she’d woken in a stranger’s bed, the emptiness of her life yawning around her. But letting people in meant that she stood the chance of being hurt. At least this way, she only had herself to blame for an injured sense of self.

A noise outside made her frown and she glanced towards the door, straining to hear it. Her name was called out in a familiar voice and Emma groaned quietly. Regina. The last person she wanted to see. The only person she might be able to see right now.

“I’m in here!” she shouted, wincing at her slurred tone.

The door to the interview room opened and light flooded in. Emma held up her hand, shielding her eyes.

“What are you doing in here?” Regina asked, before she saw the bottle in Emma’s hand and glowered at the blonde.

“Really, Deputy.” The words were out of her mouth in abject disapproval before Regina had the sense of mind to stop them. She didn’t need to ask why Emma was drinking. In fact, she thought, moving into the room and closing the door gently behind her, she didn’t really need to ask anything at all.

As darkness claimed the room once more, Regina moved over to one of the chairs and sat down slowly. Emma made a pathetic sight, slumped against the wall, clutching a bottle in her hand. Regina had guessed she might be here, returning to the scene of the crime, so to speak. It was where Graham had been more often than not; where he’d made his life in Storybrooke, doing what he thought best for the common good.

His sacrifice had been necessary. She’d told herself that almost every hour since she’d emerged from her father’s crypt. Perhaps if she said it often enough, it might even be true. But the lies she told herself were all she really had, Regina thought, pressing her lips together in a hard line. They were her last line of defense against a judgment she simply couldn’t accept.

She stood, shrugging off her coat, lying it over the back of the chair. Sitting down again, Regina waited until Emma finally lifted her head and gazed across the room towards her.

“What?” Emma jerked her chin forwards and glared at Regina with reddened eyes. “What do you want now?”

Crossing one of her legs over the other, Regina clasped her hands together in her lap.

“I was wondering where you were.”

“Oh really.” Emma swung the bottle out in a gesture of dismissal.

“Yes,” Regina said sharply. “Really.”

“Well, congratulations Madame Mayor,” Emma snorted. “You found me. Now leave me alone.”

“So you can drink yourself into oblivion? I don’t think so.” Regina moved forwards now, leaving the chair and leaning down to bend over Emma. She reached for the bottle of bourbon, wresting it from Emma’s grip and eliciting a sound of dismay from the blonde.

“This isn’t going to make you feel any better,” Regina told Emma in a tone somewhat like that of a disappointed parent. Emma puffed out her cheeks and gave a sigh of exasperation as Regina put the bottle onto the table with a dull thud.

“You have no idea what will make me feel better,” Emma grunted. Planting her hands onto the floor, she pushed herself upwards, using the wall as support so that she could stand. Shoving at her hair, she leaned against the cool surface and saw the light from the window play across Regina’s features, briefly illuminating her cold eyes and pinched face. The Mayor looked unsettled, much more so than Emma had ever seen her before. She frowned as Regina turned to her again, wrapping her arms around her torso in that way she had of protection, of defense and safety.

“Graham’s death has been hard on us all,” Regina began, almost as though she was preparing a Mayoral address. “But you can’t punish yourself like this, Emma. Storybrooke will need you now more than ever.”

“Storybrooke?” Emma echoed. “Or you?”

Regina shook her head, hardly daring to look at Emma lest she see her own betrayal shining in the other woman’s eyes. There was no truth to be had here tonight. No confessions to be heard in this room.

“I tried to warn you. You and Graham.”

Emma frowned. “Is that supposed to help?” she spat.

“No,” Regina’s shoulders hitched and her arms tightened around her body, “it’s merely a fact. Bad things happen when you don’t follow the rules.”

“Wait,” Emma said, holding up a hand and trying to make sense of the blurring mists in her head. “Rules? What rules?”

When Regina didn’t answer, Emma lurched forwards, grabbing the Mayor’s shoulder and forcing her to meet her gaze. In the half–light, she peered into Regina’s eyes, hooded and secretive.

“What do you know?” she hissed, seeing Regina recoil from the rush of alcohol–soaked breath flooding over her lips.

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

Wrenching herself from Emma’s grasp, Regina took a few steps backwards, lip curling in distaste. “When do you ever, Deputy? Or is it that the only answers you really want are at the bottom of a bottle?”

“Tonight? Yeah.” Emma turned with a swagger, throwing out her hands and stumbling across the room. “Drinking makes all of this go away, for a while at least. Can’t you just let me, Regina? For once, can’t you just leave me alone?”

She reached out blindly, feeling the wall beneath her fingertips and pressing her palms against it, head hanging down. Her chest felt constricted, the heavy weight of grief pressing down on it, making her catch her breath.

“I just want to be alone,” she muttered, blinking away the hot tears at the corners of her eyes.

“Now I don’t believe you.” Regina’s voice was close; a hand spread over the center of her back and Emma felt its warmth through the thin material of her shirt.

“I don’t care,” Emma snarled.

“Don’t you?” Regina moved around her, fingers sliding over Emma’s shoulder blade. Even in the black shadows of the room, Emma could feel the other woman’s proximity, buzzing like electricity into her fuddled brain. And all the things she felt for Regina — all the confusing, conflicting emotions that she kept at bay ran roughshod over her efforts to distance them. They washed over her in a tidal wave of feeling and she stiffened against them, knowing that ultimately, they would carry her away regardless.

“I…I don’t know what I feel…”

“You won’t find it in a bottle, Emma.” Regina’s voice was unusually kind, uncommonly gentle. It failed to quell the torrent inside Emma’s chest and she turned, shrugging off Regina’s touch, anger burning in her eyes.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” she growled. “None of this makes any sense, Regina! Graham was fine — he was fine! Then he goes into the forest and he…he never comes back.”

She let out a mirthless laugh, as hard as the pain in her chest. “How does that even happen? I mean, how does a healthy man just die…just like that?”

“You saw the autopsy report. I read it too.”

“It’s not fair!” Emma blurted, her voice thickened by sorrow, by the tears she would not let herself shed in front of Regina. “It’s not fair!”

“No, it’s not.” Regina knew all about unfairness. She’d suffered so much at its cruel hand. Her past loomed up before her and she grimaced at it, feeling it clutch at her heart in the same, unforgiving way that she’d crushed Graham’s.

“Shut up!” Emma hissed, grasping Regina and whirling her around, pushing her back against the wall. “Just…just shut up. What the hell do you know about what’s fair? What’s right?”

As her upper back hit the wall, Regina let out a whimper of pain. But Emma’s anger ignited something inside her, a half–forgotten desire for recompense, for punishment.

“You’re angry,” she said slowly.

“Damn right I am!” Emma cried, shaking her head violently. “This town…these people…there’s something rotten here. Something wrong.” She shoved at Regina again, banging the other woman against the wall of the room with unbridled force. She half expected Regina to fight back, to protest and parry like she usually did. But the Mayor was silent, eyes unreadable in the darkness.

“And you want to put things right, don’t you? You want to be Henry’s White Knight, just as you promised you would be.”

Regina’s voice sounded as though it was coming from far away, perhaps from the depths of her very soul itself. Ears buzzing, Emma moved forwards, pressing herself up against the other woman. Leaning in, her lips hovered near Regina’s ear and she took a deep, fortifying breath that trembled back out from her mouth.

“I want,” she breathed, her voice little more than a whisper of warning, “you to leave me alone.”

“And if I won’t?”

Drawing back, Emma stared into Regina’s eyes, seeing in them her own destruction, blackened and burnt and dead, just as she was inside.

“I told you before, Emma; if you’re going to hurt me, then hurt me.” Regina’s voice was steady, almost a call to arms, almost a plea for forgiveness. As she gazed at the Mayor, Emma felt the other woman shift in her steady, unrelenting grasp.

“Please,” Regina murmured, the pain in her tone suddenly palpable, winding around them both. “Hurt me. If it’ll make you feel better, then do it. Hurt me.”

The alcohol Emma had consumed sat like poison in her belly, trickling through her senses and drowning all reason. For a moment, Emma felt herself poised on the edge of a black abyss, teetering on the brink of control while looking down at the tempting plummet towards its loss.

Then she was on Regina, kissing her as though they were dying. Perhaps they were. She was without restraint, without limit, the fire in her belly obliterating anything other than the taste of Regina, the swell of her body as she moved against Emma and the faint sound of her labored breathing as she fought for air.

Emma kicked at Regina’s feet, shoving them apart so that she could press her thigh between the other woman’s legs. Her hands moved to scrabble at the shirt Regina wore, tearing it from its fastening and exposing the other woman’s stomach.

The kisses were rough, Regina thought; no more than she deserved. There was a frenzy to Emma’s caress, a harried urgency that cared little for tenderness or sensation. It was in every heated breath that slid over her skin and every bump of Emma’s body against her own. This was her punishment; Regina knew she deserved it. She would take Emma’s anger and store it away with her own. There was no reason why Emma should suffer when Regina could do it for her. So as she leaned back against the wall and laid herself bare, Regina knew that this was where she was meant to be. How she was meant to suffer — at the hands of the one she loved more desperately than ever before.

“Touch me,” she whispered, as Emma’s lips snatched at hers. “Please, touch me.”

The blonde’s fingers were around her neck almost instantly, tightening on her throat with a vice like grip. Regina smiled, despite the violation. Oh yes, she thought, as Emma’s other hand reached down and yanked at her skirt, hitching it up over her thighs. Yes; this was just punishment indeed, forged in anger and lust and the fury that lay buried deep within Emma’s heart.

Emma’s fingers were almost upon her, dragging up her inner thigh and darting over the damp surface of her underwear. Regina gave a strangled moan, feeling the fingers around her throat flex and crush the sound almost as she made it. Leaning forwards, Emma’s mouth brushed past Regina’s ear, breath hot and heavy.

Anger was such a seductive emotion; Emma had rarely given in to it as fully as she did now. She cared little for the comfort of the woman in her grasp, only that she was there at all. And as she plunged her fingers into Regina, Emma did so with a hardness that possessed her as much as Regina had, as much as she had allowed her to. She began to move them in and out, pushing her own hips forwards to gain purchase and drive her hand against Regina’s body. It was rough, relentless and utterly satisfying. She heard a whimper of pain from the other woman and, even though she hadn’t intended to hurt Regina, now that she was, Emma knew she lacked the desire to stop.

Her fingers drove deeper, thrusting in and out of the other woman with increasing pace. This wasn’t making love, Emma thought, her forehead dropping onto Regina’s shoulder. It wasn’t even close. Throughout her life, she’d always returned to this in the end; fucking away the pain even if was just for a moment of blessed oblivion, rushing towards her now as she sank her fingers in right up to the knuckle. She felt Regina’s hands on her, tugging at her shirt whether in desperation or desire, she couldn’t tell. And she didn’t much care.

“Come on,” she muttered, her voice muffled against Regina’s neck. “For fuck’s sake, Regina…make me feel it too. Please. Make me feel it too.”

She jammed her fingers into the other woman, feeling Regina sag slightly against her, feeling the moment of surrender, feeling herself succumb to the sticky heat rising between them.

When Regina cried out, stiffening and clutching at Emma, the blonde didn’t stop. She didn’t stop when Regina began to shake against her, letting out a moan that vibrated under Emma’s fingers, still wrapped around her throat. It was only when Regina began to beg for mercy that Emma’s fingers stilled, flesh clenching and throbbing around them.

Shuddering, Regina wrapped her arms around Emma’s body, holding her close for strength and support. They clung to one another then, caught in the dying moments of climax and the last vestiges of anger and pain. Emma turned her head, breathing in the scent of Regina’s skin, her hand loosening from the other woman’s neck, fingertips trailing over a wild, unfettered pulse.

It was only as she withdrew her fingers that Emma realized what she’d done. What she’d become. The things that she’d allowed to shape her and touch her and lead her here rose up in her chest, overwhelming her greater sense of self. There was no escape now; she knew that for certain. Her desire to run, always prevalent and tempting, was disappearing. This was where she belonged now. In the arms of a woman who would surely bring her to ruin.

The anger that she’d felt over Graham’s death faded to a dull ache in her gut. The tears that she’d stemmed thus far began to fall and she let out a halting, pitiful cry, burying her head into the crook of Regina’s neck. She cried for the loss of a friend, for his senseless, meaningless death and for herself, too. For the loss of her heart. It was almost too much to live with, impossible to live without.

Regina’s arms slid around her, hands splaying out across her back and Emma sank into them, gratitude and pain bleeding into the embrace. She heard Regina’s voice, whispering words she couldn’t quite discern, words she desperately wanted to hear, and Emma cried, finally feeling the comfort she sought.

Part 32

In the days following Graham’s death, life in Storybrooke slowly returned to normal. Or, at least, what passed for normality.

Most townspeople navigated the tragedy with a stoicism that seemed to typify their daily routine. Life happened, after all, even in the shadow of death. Laughter returned to Granny’s diner and schoolchildren chattered and chased one another in the playground once more. It seemed that, despite Graham’s loss being keenly felt on the streets of Storybrooke, people were moving on.

Henry, however, had taken Graham’s death particularly hard. He had become withdrawn, a quiet grief written across his face and shining in luminous eyes. He began to spend more time alone than ever before and Emma became concerned at his isolation. The boy didn’t have friends. There was nothing to distract him from his own, silent company. Nothing to persuade him from his self–inflicted detachment. Even when she was at the house and they ate dinner together in their oddly–shaped family unit, Henry lacked his usual enthusiasm for idle conversation about the town and the people in it.

Guiding the police cruiser towards the shoreline, Emma parked it a little way from Henry’s castle. As she approached, she saw him sitting in it, gazing out across the waterfront. She might have known he’d be here. It was his fortress of solitude, after all. He’d explained that it made him feel safe — the one place that the Evil Queen didn’t know about in the whole of Storybrooke.

But he didn’t look as though he felt safe today. He barely looked up as Emma clambered onto the structure and sat down beside him, his face troubled.

“Figured you’d be here,” she said, nudging her shoulder against his.

Henry sighed and shrugged. In his hands he held his book of fairytales, fingers splayed across the cover.

A breeze came across the water, ruffling his hair. Emma shivered a little. The seasons were changing, days colder and nights drawing in earlier than they had when she’d first come to town. As the wind caught her hair, Emma reached up, shoving it back from her face.

“Come on, kid,” she said gently, sliding an arm around Henry’s thin, hunched shoulders. “Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong or do I have to squeeze it out of you?” She drew him against her encouragingly, half–hoping to see a smile on Henry’s lips, but he glanced up at her, disconsolate and almost reproachful.

“You know what’s wrong.”

Emma’s smile faded. Henry had never had a father figure in his life, but Graham had been around often enough to almost fill that void. Guilt crept over her, as cold as the breeze from the water and she tugged her jacket a little more firmly around herself.

“I miss him too,” she whispered. “We all do.”

Now Henry turned on her, his mouth twisted in hopelessness, anger flashing in his eyes.

“She doesn’t,” he said. “She’s the one who killed him.”

With a pang of dread, Emma knew who he was talking about. Her gaze drifted to the book on his lap and she gestured towards it with a gloved finger.

“Is that what your book told you?” she asked tentatively.

Henry nodded firmly. “The Evil Queen ripped out the Huntsman’s heart because he wouldn’t kill Snow White,” he explained. “Just like she ripped out her own father’s. It’s what she does when you try to fight her. When you try to fight evil, bad things happen.”

“Graham died from heart failure,” Emma said slowly. “The autopsy report — ”

“That’s not what happened!” Henry’s voice lifted and was snatched away by the wind, carried out over the water. “You can’t see it, Emma, because you’re in love with her!”

He gazed at her in open disgust for a moment, then ducked his head onto his chest, opening the book and rifling through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

“Look,” he instructed, pointing at a picture. Emma leaned over his shoulder and took in the portrait painted across the page. She could see the Evil Queen and the Huntsman, he on his knees and her clutching his heart in an outstretched hand. Making a noise of dismay, she tipped the cover of the book and closed it on Henry’s lap.

“Kid,” she said, leaning forwards and peering into his face, “do you really think your mom ripped Graham’s heart out and killed him?” Her tone was incredulous at the mere idea of it.

Henry’s mouth formed a resolute line and he shrugged, avoiding her gaze.

“You don’t believe it,” he finally said dolefully, “because she’s got your heart too.”

Now Emma laughed and tugged him against her, fingers wrapping firmly around his shoulder. “Locked up in a box? I don’t think so. My heart’s right here.” She tapped her hand over her chest and nudged the boy until he gave her a tiny smile.

“That’s better,” she reached up and ruffled his hair. “Henry, your mom is trying, you know. She loves you. Graham’s death was hard on her too and I know you think she’s the Evil Queen, but she’s grieving. She might not show it, but she is.”

His face clouded with doubt and he squinted up at her. “But she’s the one who — ”

“Killed him? Yeah, you said.” Emma’s tone slid into a more dubious timbre and she heaved a huge sigh. Regina had barely spoken a word about Graham since the funeral. In fact, she’d diverted any and all questions that Emma had on the topic, choosing instead to hide her pain away.

But Emma saw it, nonetheless. And under the cover of night, she sometimes woke to Regina’s restless tossing and turning in bed, the Mayor’s sleep beset by nightmares that would pull at her face and draw faint moans from her mouth. She would slide her arms around Regina then, offering whatever comfort she could — whatever comfort the other woman would accept.

Discussion, however, was off the table completely.

“Can you just give her a chance?”

Henry’s arms tightened around the book and he hugged it to his chest. His White Knight had fallen under the Evil Queen’s spell. And he was at his wits’ end as to how he could break it. All curses could be broken; it was one of the first rules of fairytales, after all. He just didn’t know how and it seemed that his last — and only — hope had been swept up in it, enchanted by his mother’s wicked charms.

“I have to,” he responded cautiously. “I don’t have a choice anymore. If I don’t…if we don’t, then more bad things will happen.”

“Henry, everyone’s always got a choice,” Emma told him. “It doesn’t matter how we’re born, even if you grow up to be the Evil Queen,” she smirked.

“You can always make the choice for good,” she continued, her son’s wide eyes gazing up at her. “Being good is much harder than being bad, and I know you know that, right?”

“I guess,” he admitted slowly.

“But your mom’s like the rest of us.” She leaned into him and gave him a faint smile. “She’s just trying to do the best that she can. If you can give her a chance…even a really tiny one, then I think you’ll see that she’s not all bad.”

From the expression that flitted through Henry’s eyes, Emma knew he remained unconvinced. His childish beliefs were so irrevocably fixed in his mind that, even if he had wanted to offer his love to Regina, he would never fully accept that hers was freely given in return. But he was a child and failed to comprehend the complexities of adult relationships or emotions. Where Henry drew lines of black and white, Emma only ever saw shades of gray. Regina just erred on the darker side of that, her balance in the spectrum skewed by her reluctance to open up and let light into her life.

“How about we work on it?” Emma suggested, pushing herself off the wooden castle and turning to hold her hands out to the boy. “And if we find out that she’s bad, we’ll figure it out together, okay?”

Offering the boy her constancy and love was all she could do, after all. It was the same thing she’d offered to Regina, too, and as Henry jumped down from the castle and they walked towards her cruiser, Emma found that the feeling swelled in her heart. Henry wanted her to be his hero, but she was starting to wonder if she could meet his expectations. Because being a hero wasn’t just about heading into battle to slay enemies with an unforgiving sword of might.

No, she thought as she bundled Henry into the car. Her son wanted her to lay waste to the evils he saw in his life. But hers was a quiet heroism, formed by the love she felt for him and her presence in his life. It was strengthened in the belief she held that, if she simply loved them enough, she could fix what was broken between Henry and Regina. That, in loving them as much as her heart would allow, she might just fix what was broken in herself, too.

Sidney nudged his photographer and the man darted forwards, lifting his camera, lightbulb flashing as he took a photograph that would grace the next cover of The Daily Mirror.

Regina gave one of her most gracious, mayoral smiles, bestowing the small crowd gathered in her office with a regal manner that she’d perfected over far too many years to mention.

“Everyone deserves to feel safe in their own homes,” she said, pausing just long enough to make sure that all the people invited to the ceremony were hanging on her every word. “That’s why Emma Swan is my choice for post of Sheriff.”

Half turning, she cast an eye over Emma, standing awkwardly a couple of paces behind her. “This woman,” she lifted a finger and Emma grinned uncomfortably, “has put the needs of Storybrooke above her own and become a part of this community.”

Her smile never wavered. She’d given speeches before, many times, but this time she actually believed the words she was saying. They were no longer the platitudes that she offered the town in order to coerce them into doing what she wanted. And as she nodded at the various dignitaries that she’d invited to her office, Regina almost wanted to throw back her head and laugh at them, fools that they were. Their sense of importance was irrelevant; she’d cultivated it carefully over decades so that they actually believed they mattered.

They didn’t.

The only thing that did, Regina had discovered, was the wellbeing of her son and her own position as ruler of all she surveyed. Even now, as she spied Mr Gold standing towards the back of the group and felt a tiny chill of anxiety speed down her spine, Regina knew that as long as she, Emma and Henry remained safe from him, life in Storybrooke was little more than a formality.

“Please welcome,” she turned to face Emma, “your new Sheriff.” Lifting the star–shaped badge in her hand, she reached forwards to pin it onto Emma’s jacket.

The new Sheriff frowned a little, clearly ill at ease with the attention focused solely on her. She flinched slightly as the flash popped again, her lips twitching in discontent.

Emma scowled as Regina stood back, clearly quite proud of herself. She’d only agreed to this because Regina had insisted that it was a vital part of her work with the Sheriff’s office. That, now Graham was gone, Emma was the perfect replacement. It hadn’t gone amiss that Emma knew were she to accept the position of Sheriff, then she’d quite literally be unable to leave Storybrooke, even if she’d wanted to.

Indulging Regina — and the town — seemed like the least troublesome option. Besides, Emma had reasoned with herself, if she assumed a position of authority within the town then it would be easier to keep a close eye on Mr Gold. Her gaze alighted on him now where he lurked near the door to Regina’s office. Catching his eye, her scowl only increased as he smiled and held up a hand, nodding in a congratulatory manner.

“Do smile, dear,” Regina stepped in close to her again and murmured under breath as the people around them broke into applause. “Nobody wants to see a churlish face on the front of their newspaper tomorrow morning.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Right,” she said bluntly. “That didn’t really bother you when you were having me arrested and printing stories about me before, did it?”

Regina touched her elbow and turned her to face the camera once more, lips parting in a huge smile as the flashbulb almost blinded Emma.

“You weren’t Sheriff before,” Regina whispered. “Things change.”

Their eyes met briefly and Emma couldn’t help softening a little. Perhaps it wasn’t just things that changed, she thought. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Regina so without guile before. All things considered, it was a little alarming.

“Can I get the first interview with the new Sheriff?” Sidney moved towards her, a notepad and pencil in his hands. Even as she opened her mouth to protest, Emma felt Regina’s hand in the small of her back, pushing her forwards.

“I’m sure Sheriff Swan,” Regina said the title with deliberate emphasis, “would be delighted.”

Emma cast a murderous glance towards the woman and decided that, even if Regina wasn’t the Evil Queen of Henry’s imaginings, then she definitely had something of a wicked streak.

“Sure,” she turned back to Sidney with a forced smile on her lips. “I’d be…delighted…whatever…”

Shaking a few hands and exchanging pleasantries with the dispersing group, Regina made her way across the office and found herself face to face with Mr Gold, who clasped his hands over the top of his cane and tapped it a few times on the floor.

“What a lovely promotion,” he commented.

Regina’s smile disappeared. She glared at him and he met her eyes with a confident boldness that she found distinctly threatening.

“Shame what happened to Graham,” he said quietly.

She took a step closer to him, lip curling. “Don’t you talk about him,” she said in a low voice. “You know nothing.”

“What is there to know?” Gold shrugged a little. “He died.”

“How convenient for you,” Regina intoned, glancing around to see if anyone was listening. She leaned in towards him and met his gaze with deadly intent. “With Graham gone, I’m sure you’ll sleep a lot more soundly in your bed.”

Gold’s eyebrows rose and he blinked thoughtfully for a second. “Me?” he asked innocently. “Regina, I’m not the one who has the most to lose should certain things come to light. And I’m not losing any sleep over that, believe me.”

He smiled again, but there was no mirth in it, only malice and the stench of battle lines drawn over a long history of blood and sacrifice. Regina knew that when it came to evildoing, her own transgressions were nothing compared to his. Yet still he had the audacity to threaten her with vague hints at ruinous information that he kept close to his chest.

“Are you really going up against me?” she asked, her tone as dark and heavy as her gaze.

“Not directly,” Gold answered. “We are, after all, both invested in the common good. We’re just picking different sides.”

“And what do you know about good?” Regina hissed, hands bunching into fists down by her sides. “What have you ever known about good?”

Gold’s mouth turned down in contemplation and he suppressed another grin before nodding at Regina, the tip of his cane scraping across the polished floor.

“I could ask you the same question,” he told her. “But really, what’s the point in going over old ground? People don’t change, Regina. They only fool themselves into thinking that they can.” He paused as Sidney and the photographer flurried past them, the last people to leave the office save Emma, who approached them with a determined gait.

“Enjoy your new Sheriff,” he said, a smile quirking one side of his mouth. “Let’s hope she doesn’t go the way of the old one.”

Turning, he limped away as Emma came alongside Regina, staring after him with a suspicious frown on her forehead.

“What did he want?” she asked.

Regina blinked, swallowing hard over her anger and fear. The past was always at her back, constantly returning to haunt her when she least expected it. That it loomed over her in the form of Gold’s shadow was disconcerting. She would need to be careful from now on. More careful than before and more ruthless too, if necessary.

“He wanted to congratulate you on your appointment,” she said, turning to Emma with a smile on her lips.

Emma’s face screwed up into an expression of distaste and she folded her arms over her chest, feeling the Sheriff’s badge knock against her hand. That might take some getting used to, she thought. It all might take some getting used to. She’d always existed on the edges of society and now she was an integral part of it. It was, she admitted, more than a little confusing. Overwhelming, even.

“I don’t need Gold’s congratulations,” she grunted, as Regina closed the door to her office, waving away the attentions of her assistant outside. “Or anything else,” Emma added.

“Ignore him, dear.” Regina swept back across the office towards her desk, dropping into the chair behind it.

“I’m the Sheriff,” Emma reminded her, swaggering a little as she stood in front of Regina’s desk and rested back on her heels. “I don’t get to ignore him now, do I?”

The Mayor sighed and met Emma’s gaze with a resolute lift of her chin. “We’ve had this conversation,” she said shortly.

“Yeah…but not really,” Emma shrugged. “You warned me and Graham off Gold. We never agreed to anything. He found a lead and then he — ”

She stopped short, finding herself unable to say the words that would make it real. For a moment, she’d forgotten that Graham was gone. For a moment, everything seemed okay. But as she shifted uncomfortably, Emma knew that somewhere inside of her, nothing would be okay again. That losing someone she cared about took a tiny piece of her soul away.

Her gaze roamed over Regina’s features and she sighed. Finding people she cared about had put back some of those missing pieces and yet, she was still reticent to allow herself to trust it. Because she knew more than most how easily it could be wrested away, just like Henry had been from her arms when she’d held him as a baby.

“We all miss him.”

Blinking, Emma realized that Regina was staring at her and she shrugged again, proffering a tight smile in return.

“But my warning still stands,” Regina continued, shuffling some papers on her desk and busying herself with them for a moment. “Besides, Gold should be the least of your concerns.”

“What? What do you mean?”

Lifting a hand, Regina pointed at the badge on Emma’s jacket. “You’re Sheriff now. That job brings with it a whole host of responsibilities.”

“Uh…you mean like drinking coffee and eating donuts?” Emma asked hopefully.

Regina almost smiled before shaking her head and returning to the papers on her desk. “I think you’ll find that being Sheriff will keep you occupied enough so that you won’t have time to chase after futile suspicions about Mr Gold.”

“Great,” Emma grumbled. “So, basically, being Sheriff means extra work. Thanks for that.”

“It’s my absolute pleasure,” Regina said, head bowed over her work. She felt Emma’s eyes on her, burning her skin and raising a flush over her cheeks. Ruefully, she looked up again and caught the newly–appointed Sheriff grinning at her in a way that did nothing to alleviate the heat on her flesh.

“Speaking of pleasure,” Emma said slowly, quirking an eyebrow. “Should I come over tonight?”

Regina’s lips pursed slightly at the inference, but that only seemed to increase Emma’s sense of enjoyment and the Mayor sat up a little in her chair, frowning at the Sheriff.

“I happen to know that there’s a stack of paperwork on the desk in your new office,” Regina stated. “If you manage to get through it by six, then yes, you should come over.”

Emma’s head jerked back on her neck and she unfolded her arms, planting her palms onto the desk and leaning forwards to glare at Regina. It was a threatening stance that Emma knew could strike the fear of God into most mere mortals.

Regina, however, was unmoved by it and simply gazed back at Emma, waiting for the Sheriff to speak.

“First day on the job,” Emma growled. “A job you tricked me into, by the way, and now I’ve got paperwork to do? Are you serious?”

She wasn’t really angry. In fact, as she glowered at Regina, Emma had to admit that she was vaguely impressed at the way in which Regina had cajoled her into taking the job as Sheriff. It meant that the Mayor got what she wanted which, it was clear, was the way Regina intended.

“Being Sheriff isn’t all about chasing down criminals and putting them behind bars,” Regina said in a slightly condescending tone. “I’m afraid in comparison to your last job you might find your new one rather mundane. Lots of paperwork to file. Incident reports. That sort of thing.”

She smiled politely as Emma huffed and stood up, shaking her head.

“You know, Henry might be right about you,” she muttered, as Regina threw her a questioning look. “I think maybe you are evil,” she added.

Turning on her heel, Emma marched towards the door with long, hasty strides. “Paperwork,” she grumbled. “That’s so unfair.”

“As I’ve told Henry,” Regina’s voice reached her across the room and she spun around to look at the Mayor, “homework is an essential part of success.” Regina seemed almost smug, settling her hands onto the desk in front of her with a prim demeanor.

“Sure, if you’re ten!” Emma blurted, throwing up her hands. But she knew that today, she wouldn’t be able to goad Regina into wasting any more time arguing. In fact, she noted, there was a distinct air of relief about the woman that left Emma in a state of amused wonder. The playful light in Regina’s eyes left her in no doubt as to the fact that things really were changing. More than she’d suspected, even.

“Really, Sheriff,” Regina leaned back in her chair and eyed Emma with a tiny smile on her lips. “You need to set him a good example.”

“Whatever,” Emma mumbled, before taking a deep breath and letting it out in a long sigh. “Okay, okay. I’ll do paperwork and see you later. Six, right?”

“Indeed.” The tone of Regina’s voice indicated that playtime was over, and Emma turned back to the door, grasping the handle and yanking it open.

“Still say you’re evil,” she threw back over her shoulder before she disappeared into the outer office.

Regina didn’t resist the smile that sprang to her lips. Nor did she deny the odd feeling running through her chest with abandon. It felt like contentment. Almost like happiness.

That fact alone caused the smile to fade on her mouth. Because she knew, absolutely and without doubt that happiness was deceitful, trapping a heart into a false sense of security. So as she returned to the papers on her desk, it was a frown that twisted her features. Happiness just wasn’t meant to last. It never had for her.

Pulling a file towards her, Regina flipped it open and stared down at its contents. Her gaze travelled over transactions that had been made long ago, when time had been arrested under her own laws and her reign had been unobstructed by affairs of the heart.

Outside, the clock tower began to chime, marking the hour with a sonorous toll.

Time, Regina thought to herself, was not on her side. Not anymore.

Snatching up the handset of her phone, she punched in some numbers and waited irritably while it rang in her ear. As soon as the line clicked, she drew in a short breath.

“Sidney,” she barked, “where are we with that little problem I asked you to take care of?”

Part 33

The new Sheriff of Storybrooke made up her mind on a Friday morning. Emma remembered the exact moment it happened because she had been triumphantly finishing up the paperwork that Graham had left on his desk.

She had paused for a moment, mentally correcting herself. It wasn’t his desk anymore; it was hers, right down to the mug holding her coffee and the picture of Henry she’d put at the corner.

It had struck her, then, that she’d not only taken on the position of Sheriff but also sealed her fate. Maybe even her very own happy ending, she had mused with a faint grin. In accepting the job, she had also accepted her desire to stay with Henry. And Regina.

She’d looked down at her badge, a shining star hooked on her belt, and allowed a sense of contentment to wash over her. Emma had always thought being happy was overrated; she’d run from the lack of it all her life, emptiness chasing on her heels.

Odd, that it should be here in a small town in Maine that she had stumbled upon it in the shape of a son that she’d given away but who loved her anyway. And his mother, a woman who hid her fear behind anger and spite so that she could keep everyone out and in the place she had designed for them.

On paper, it wouldn’t form even a remotely endearing story. But Emma had grinned to herself as she closed the last file on the desk and shoved it to one side. That was the thing about stories; they never really appeared to be what they seemed to be on paper. Reality was far more complex and intricate.

Her future had always been a nebulous, vaguely drawn tale. Now, Emma could see it stretching out ahead of her, brightly colored and unfolding almost before her eyes.

And that was when she knew she would never leave Storybrooke. Or Henry.

Or Regina.

It was also the same moment that Mr Gold appeared around her door, offering her a smile and a tiny bow of greeting.

Emma froze in her chair, the contented smile on her lips dying as she looked over her desk.

“Sheriff Swan,” Mr Gold said with a smirk. “How we’ve risen to the heights of power.”

“What do you want?” she asked with a scowl.

Gold’s eyebrows rose and he tilted his head onto one side. “You might work on your people skills,” he murmured. “That’s hardly the most accommodating greeting for one of the citizens under your care.”

“I’m not in an accommodating mood,” Emma said bluntly, rising from her desk and stalking around it to perch on the edge. She folded her arms over her chest and met Gold’s gaze with a determined lift of her chin.

His smile increased in voracity, like that of a predator moving in for the kill. He shifted slightly, curiosity shining viciously in his gaze.

“I wondered if you’d given any more thought to my offer,” he said.

“About you being an ally?” Emma snorted. “No, I haven’t. And in case you hadn’t noticed, Regina and I share a son. Even if I wanted to — ”

“Well, that’s a matter of some debate, isn’t it?” Mr Gold cut her short, stepping forwards. “When you first came here, there was nothing you wanted more than to break Regina’s hold over everyone. And now…”

He shrugged, the gesture both disarming and disturbing. There was a knowing smile on his face that prickled at Emma’s neck and she resisted the urge to wipe it from his features with her fist, bunched against her chest.

“We have a son,” she said again.

“That you do,” Gold nodded. “He’s a troubled little boy, isn’t he?”

“Okay,” Emma got to her feet and moved towards Gold. “That’s enough. You don’t talk about him. In fact, you don’t talk about anything. Why are you so intent on ruining things?”

She postured in front of him, squaring her shoulders and fixing him with a hard stare.

“You’re protective of them,” Mr Gold observed in a silken tone. “How lovely.”

Emma’s mouth hardened into a tight line but she faltered a little. She was protective, and there was nothing wrong with that. But from Gold’s lips, it sounded more like a weakness than a strength. And she felt it lurch in her gut like one, too.

“Don’t let your feelings blind you to the truth,” Gold continued. “Regina might think she’s got you where she wants you, but I know you’re smarter than that, Sheriff.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Emma glared at him and he grinned at her.

Gold wasn’t a man who backed down easily, or at all. As he gazed at Emma, he couldn’t help but congratulate himself. Games were Regina’s forte, but he was the one who had written the rules. And Emma? Well, Emma was just a pawn for them to move around at will. He figured that a little shove across the board wouldn’t hurt. Not him, anyway.

“I know you think that you’ve found what you were looking for here in Storybrooke,” he said equivocally. “But doesn’t it seem rather convenient? Regina’s sudden affections, I mean,” he added with a sneer.

“I’ve lived here a long time, Sheriff,” he continued. “And I know Regina better than most.”

“So?” Emma huffed. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was heading.

“Our Madame Mayor’s not capable of the things you imagine she feels for you,” Gold said quite simply. “Why do you think her relationship with the boy is so fractured? So broken? There are many things that Regina can do — and has,” he smirked.

“But love?” Gold leaned in conspiratorially and shook his head a little. “Love isn’t one of them. You must have wondered about that, Emma. Wondered why she was on her own when you came here.”

Yeah, Emma nodded to herself, she definitely didn’t like where this was heading. She wanted to protest, to refute his claims with a heart that spoke of understanding and love. But she found herself unable to do so; she had wondered about Regina, about her motives and her capacity for affection. But those doubts had seemed irrelevant when she was in the woman’s arms, clutching her in passion and need.

Now, however, in the cold light of day, Emma couldn’t help but ponder a world wherein her heart was an acquisition to be torn from her chest and kept, like Henry had told her, in a box for safekeeping.

No; she told herself sternly. Gold was a meddler, determined to set himself against Regina for his own personal gain, through whatever nefarious means he had at his disposal. She loved Regina. And Regina, even though she would never say it, loved her too. Emma just knew it. She relied on it.

“You’re wrong,” she finally said through clenched teeth, a surge of anger burning in her throat.

“Am I?” Gold shrugged, turning slightly and heading for the door to her office. “We shall see. Emotional entanglements are just another game of hers, Emma. And I wouldn’t like for you to lose sight of the real dangers that lie in this town.”

He paused in the doorway and nodded in her direction. “I’d hate for you to get hurt because of the games she plays. She likes to take hearts, you see. Quite without compassion. Without risking her own in the process. I wouldn’t want yours to be her next stolen treasure.”

Darting forwards, Emma laid her hand on his arm. He looked down at her grasp with amused eyes, letting out a little huff of laughter.

“Tell me,” she hissed, “what you know. And tell me now.”

Gold extricated himself carefully from her grasp, lifting a hand to smooth at the sleeve of his suit, tugging on it with deliberate care. He looked curiously at Emma, his black eyes shining with something like triumph.

“Regina’s secrets aren’t for me to divulge,” he said slowly. “They’re yours to discover, Emma. She keeps them deeply buried. Very deeply buried indeed.”

He held her gaze for a moment before blinking and smiling once more, his eyes black and malicious.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to dig them out, though,” he murmured quietly. “Every closet has skeletons, after all. And Regina’s built this town over hers.”

Grasping his cane a little more firmly, Gold straightened and tilted his head by means of farewell, glancing down at the pocket watch he’d pulled from his jacket. “I really must be going,” he told her. “Think about what I’ve said though, won’t you?”

“That’s a look I recognize,” Mary Margaret said gently, placing a cup of hot chocolate in front of Emma. She sat down at the table and cradled her own up in her hands, lifting it to sip at the liquid inside. “What’s wrong?”

Emma hadn’t realized she’d been lost in her own thoughts until the schoolteacher jerked her out of them. Blinking, she glanced at the other woman, a smile ghosting over her lips. The scent of cinnamon rose from her mug and Emma wondered, not for the first time, if Henry’s stories held any truth. Whether it was in the little things that validity might be found.

She also wondered if she was losing her mind. Storybrooke wasn’t like other towns, that was for sure, but it was real. And Mary Margaret wasn’t her mother. Nor was David Nolan her father. That was ridiculous.

A tiny laugh emerged from her lips as she lifted the mug to her mouth, swallowing some of the scalding hot chocolate and nodding in appreciation as it slid down her throat.

“Mr Gold came to see me today,” she finally said. Mary Margaret’s face crinkled into a frown and she let out a small noise of perturbation.

“I don’t like him,” the schoolteacher said in a tiny voice. “He’s a little creepy.”

“More than a little,” Emma grunted. She toyed with her mug, turning it round on the table in front of her, mouth twisting over what Mr Gold had intimated. Over the doubt she felt inside her belly, coiling like a snake.

“You shouldn’t listen to him, whatever it is he’s saying,” Mary Margaret suggested, a hopeful look on her face.

Emma smiled at her, but it was without conviction and soon faded as her eyes clouded once more.

“He said that Regina is playing me,” she said slowly, staring down at her mug again. “That all this…stuff between us is so that she can keep me on a leash. Make me do whatever she wants.”

“Oh, honey,” Mary Margaret reached forwards, taking Emma’s hand in her own and squeezing tightly. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” Emma was disconsolate, shoulders lifting and falling in a huge sigh. “I mean, you have to admit, Regina’s no saint. And I kinda am doing what she wants me to.”

Mary Margaret’s lips pursed, but she was wise enough to say nothing. She’d lived in a town run by Regina for as long as she could remember. The years had stretched on endlessly, each one much like the other. In fact, she frowned, she couldn’t remember a time when Regina hadn’t steered the town in whatever direction she so chose. Her iron will and her firm grasp on the tiniest movements of the citizens had been accepted because that was how it always was. Regina ruled with the fear she instilled in everyone. And nobody ever questioned her. They were always too scared.

“I mean, what if everything — letting me see Henry, everything that’s happened between us — what if it’s all a lie?” Emma’s brow furrowed as she began to contemplate the possibilities. She didn’t want them to become probabilities, rooted in the doubts that she had about Regina’s own particular brand of truth.

Leaning forwards, Mary Margaret peered up into Emma’s face, forcing the Sheriff to make eye contact. She smiled comfortingly, her fingers squeezing tight over Emma’s once more.

“Didn’t you say you could tell if someone was telling the truth?” the schoolteacher asked gently.

Emma frowned. She’d never been wrong. Not once. She’d always relied on lies in order to see the truth. People couldn’t help themselves; lying was human nature. And they always fell prey to it, sooner or later.

“So ask yourself, is Regina lying to you?” Mary Margaret’s voice was a soft caress, the pressure of her hand spreading warmth and comfort through Emma’s senses. Blinking across the table at the schoolteacher, Emma couldn’t help but smile. If Mary Margaret Blanchard was indeed her mother, then that might not be so very bad, after all.

“It feels like…” Emma began hesitantly, eyes crinkling up in thought, “…like she’s afraid of something. Something to do with me, you know?”

Sliding her hand back across the table, Mary Margaret lifted her eyebrows and shrugged. “Maybe she’s just afraid of the way you make her feel.”

“Because I’m supposed to break her curse?” Emma laughed, rolling her eyes.

But Mary Margaret gave a half–hearted smile in response and sighed a little. She remembered what it was like before Emma came; how the town had seemed stuck in an endless loop of days that stretched beyond them like years. Emma had woken Storybrooke from its long sleep; now they were all coming alive with what she’d done.

So even if Henry’s notion of a curse was laughable, Mary Margaret found that perhaps it wasn’t so ridiculous after all.

“Where’s your mom, kid?” Emma peered around the study door to see Henry kneeling at the coffee table, scrawling across a page. He looked up at her and blinked.

“She’s at the cemetery,” he told her. “She takes flowers there every Wednesday.”

“No, she doesn’t,” Emma frowned at him, shrugging as she leaned in the doorway.

“She does,” Henry insisted. “She stopped for a while, with you here. Tonight she decided to start going again. She visits her dad’s crypt. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Regina’s father is buried here? In Storybrooke?”

“You mean the one she killed to bring everyone here? Yeah.” Henry nodded with such firm belief that Emma’s stance wavered a little. He shrugged and reached for the book that lay on the floor next to him. Planting it onto the table with a dull thud, Henry opened it and flicked through the pages.

“Here,” he tapped on the page with a single finger. “Look at this.”

Striding across the room, Emma perched on the couch behind Henry, leaning over his shoulder to stare down at the page. The drawing across it depicted a huge stone structure with an emblem on the top. Thorns, Emma thought. They looked like fingers clutching at something, but she couldn’t quite make it out properly. The figure in front of the crypt stood tall, shadowed and covered in black from head to toe.

Glancing at Henry, Emma frowned. “And that figure…it’s supposed to be — ”

“My mom. Yeah.”

“The Evil Queen,” Emma murmured, half to herself. Then, drawing a short breath, she stood up. “The cemetery, right? Your mom’s there now?”

Henry nodded at her and Emma turned, walking from the room with a purposeful stride.

It was dark now. Emma shivered a little, wishing that cemeteries didn’t look quite so eerie at night. She wrapped her arms around herself and sighed, breath making a misty plume in the air. Should have brought a flashlight, she chastised herself inwardly. Emma had tramped through the overgrown grass in between graves and almost tipped herself over several huge headstones before she reached what looked like the crypt Henry had described.

Squinting at it, Emma stepped out from the edge of a line of trees and narrowed her gaze. The emblem above the crypt’s doors — it was the one Henry had shown her in the book. Exactly the same.

She shivered again. But this time it wasn’t from the cold. Suspicion rose unexpectedly in her gut and Emma found herself remembering Gold’s words. How his intimations had brought her here with a compulsion that appeared from nowhere.

And yet…

Emma paused. In wanting to believe the worst, she’d imagined something outlandish and, she told herself, impossible. Fairy tales didn’t exist. Neither did their happy endings. Life was whatever you wanted it to be. Whatever you’d always supposed it could be. All she had to do was to reach out and take it.

Determination tugged at her jaw and Emma moved forwards again. Her life would be her own to direct. But she would do so with truth or nothing at all.

The door to the crypt creaked open, sounding terribly loud in the still night air. Regina emerged and carefully closed the door behind her, pausing on the step for a moment to look up at the sky overhead, black and heavy.

“Why did you stop?”

Startled, Regina stared into the cold pitch of the cemetery before Emma emerged from it, walking towards her. She stopped just a few feet away from Regina and shrugged at her.

“Why did you stop coming here?”

Regina was momentarily taken aback, mouth opening silently. Then she held out her hands in an open gesture, stepping down onto the grass.

“No reason,” she smiled disarmingly.

Emma knew she was lying.

But she reached out anyway, stretching her arm across the distance between them and holding out her hand.

Regina looked at it with horror, then up at Emma, who merely grinned at her.

“Come on, Regina,” she said, cocking her head onto one side. “It’s just a hand.” She even wiggled her fingers at the Mayor, who flinched and stared at them with dubious appraisal.

“I don’t…” Regina said, then laughed scornfully. “I don’t hold hands, dear. That sort of thing is for teenagers and those who don’t know any better.”

Emma smiled gently. “Everyone holds hands.” Without preamble, she reached forwards and closed her fingers around Regina’s hand, tugging the other woman alongside her.

They walked silently for a few moments before Regina pulled her hand from Emma’s grasp. Even as the blonde turned with offense parting her lips, Regina slid her hand back against Emma’s, linking their fingers. There was an insistent pressure to Regina’s touch, fingertips stroking briefly over the back of Emma’s hand.

Looking into Regina’s eyes, Emma couldn’t stop the smile of pleasure creeping across her mouth. Regina met it tightly, her gaze dropping to the ground, and a tiny frown flurried briefly over Emma’s features. Every step forwards was a step into the unknown; Regina really did keep her secrets deeply buried.

Emma glanced back over her shoulder at the crypt behind them.

“I didn’t know your dad was buried here,” she commented.

Regina shrugged as they continued walking across the cemetery. “There’s no reason why you should,” she answered. “My father sacrificed a lot for us to come here. That’s why I visit him. To remember what he did.”

“Yeah?” Emma glanced at Regina. “And your mother? Is she…?”

She saw how Regina’s face crumpled, how a momentary flash of fear, disgust and regret darkened eyes and brought a desperate rage to their gleam. Emma balked at it, felt doubt enter her chest and form a tight knot.

“Yes. She’s dead.” Regina’s voice was staccato, devoid of emotion. “But it was my father who loved me and brought me here. I built that crypt as a memory to him, not my mother.”

Her fingers tightened on Emma’s and she brought them to a halt, turning to look at the blonde. Regina’s eyes widened as she stared into Emma’s, alarm clenching in her chest at the abject honesty that had preceded it. But she smiled over it in an instant, eyebrows lifting in dismissal.

“I told you,” she said, her voice dropping to a sardonic tone, “that I don’t like to hold hands. Clearly it makes me want to confess everything to you.”

“Well I am the Sheriff,” Emma nudged Regina with her shoulder and they began walking again, this time at a slow, leisurely stroll. “Besides, it’s only a confession if you’ve got something to confess, right?”

Regina glanced at her, lips pursed in rebuke.

“I mean, it’s not like you’ve got such terrible things to hide, is it?” Emma continued as they made their way through the wooded area at the edge of the cemetery. The ground crackled under their feet until they emerged onto the road that led back into town. She made sure to keep her voice light, even though doubts and suspicions tumbled around inside her head.

They stopped, a streetlight overhead illuminating them both, still clinging to one another’s hands.

“Do you think I have terrible things to hide?” Regina asked, a smirk lifting the corner of her mouth. “Seeing as you are the Sheriff.”

“I’m not sure yet,” Emma murmured, only half–joking. “You didn’t tell me why you stopped visiting your father’s grave when I came to town.” She shrugged at Regina’s enquiring gaze. “Henry told me.”

Honesty surged in Regina’s chest again and she blinked against it, shaking her head a little. “I stopped doing a lot of things when you came to town,” she told Emma. “I needed time to adjust.”

“To what?”

Regina looked into Emma’s eyes and smiled again. Her lips stretched wide over it, teeth gleaming in the light overhead. “To you, dear,” she said slowly. Closing the distance between them, Regina’s lips touched Emma’s and she heard with satisfaction the groan in Emma’s throat.

As they parted, Emma felt a desperate need to believe what Regina told her; to believe everything that had happened between them. For once in her life, she wanted the fairy tale to be true. She needed it to be so that it could exist in this world and lay waste to her doubts and fears.

But they were all she felt now; Regina’s mouth on her own had tasted bitter, soured by something Emma couldn’t quite define. In the distance, the town clock began to chime, each stroke seeming more mournful than the last. Perhaps this was all she got, she thought sadly. This time with Regina until the lies fell away and truth was able to flourish between them. If this was all she got, then Emma knew she would take it. Because feeling this way with Regina was still better than feeling nothing at all.

“We’d better get back,” Emma said. “Want me to walk you home?”

“Like this?” Regina’s nostrils flared as she looked down at their hands, still joined together.

Emma let out a tiny snort of laughter and shook her head. “Do you honestly think that there’s anyone in town that doesn’t know about us by now?” She quirked an eyebrow at Regina, who looked appalled.

“I care very little for what people think they know,” she sniffed, haughtily drawing herself up to her full height. “But I refuse to add fuel to their fire.”

“Right,” Emma nodded, a smirk tugging at her mouth. “So…let go then.” She glanced down at their hands and then back up at Regina.

“Just let go,” she said, her gaze meeting Regina’s with a resolute challenge burning in them.

“It’s okay, you know,” she murmured. “Letting go? It’s okay if that’s what you want to do.”

Temptation swirled around Regina’s brain in a dizzy storm. She had tried to let go of her past — who she’d been and what it had done to her — by coming here and creating this town. But it had found her anyway. Her past had overwhelmed her, despite all her efforts to relinquish her grasp on it. And she wished…oh, how she wished she could let it go now.

Regina knew that she couldn’t.

Fixing Emma with a shadowed gaze, Regina drew in a long breath. “I daresay if the whole town knows about us, as you insist, then there seems to be very little that would make any difference to the gossipmongers.” Her lips twitched in irritation, but her grasp on Emma’s fingers tightened a little.

Huffing a gentle laugh, Emma led Regina across the street to where store fronts began guiding them further into town. Again, silence fell over them both as they strolled along, each becoming increasingly more comfortable with their show of intimacy.

Sometimes, Emma thought, the worst lies were the ones she enjoyed; the ones that were finite and intense. The ones that she knew were lies because truth didn’t feel this way — so terrifying and overwhelming. Henry’s stories about his mother might just be true because Emma knew she’d lost her heart; Regina had just reached in and taken it.

But there was no recompense to be had. Regina’s heart remained distant, even now. And Emma felt it as keenly as she did the love that swelled in her own chest. She and Regina might have happiness, but at what expense?

“You know this is going to make people think I’m in your pocket, don’t you?” Emma said, glancing sideways at Regina.

“What is?”

“The Sheriff and the Mayor, having a…whatever it is we’re having. Or maybe that was your plan all along,” Emma felt Regina’s eyes on her like two beams of dark light. “If you make someone fall in love with you, there’s nothing they won’t do to please you. It weakens their resolve, right?”

Regina thought of the love she’d felt — the love she felt again now. It had become a weapon in her empty, desperate hands. And she’d used it time and again to use people, to take their fealty without ever earning it and fulfill her own fetid schemes. But the love she wanted to give to Henry and to Emma? It had conspired against her to wrench her heart from her chest.

They didn’t love her. They couldn’t. Not for who she’d been and not for who she was now. Not after what she’d done.

“We’re assuming that you want to please me,” Regina commented, tamping down on her fears and lifting her chin. “All evidence points to the contrary.”

They rounded the corner onto Main Street and Regina’s gait quickened a little.

“Besides,” she said slowly, “you’re not in love with me.”

Emma’s fingers squeezed Regina’s, a sudden ferocity to their touch. Regina heard Emma take a breath, a ragged sound that pulled inside her chest, making her want answers to questions she had no right to ask.

“You couldn’t be,” Regina whispered. She didn’t really need answers. She already knew them.

Again, Emma’s hand clenched against her own and this time, Regina turned to look at the woman beside her. Emma smiled hopefully and Regina’s heart began to ache.

“Stranger things have happened in Storybrooke, according to Henry,” she said gently. “Maybe I can break the curse after all, you know?”

“Really, dear,” Regina’s voice assumed a note of condescension and Emma smiled at it, despite the niggle of doubt that buzzed at the back of her head. “Even if such a thing existed, it would need a kiss of true love to break it. That’s how the story goes, isn’t it?”

“And?” Emma leaned forwards a little, shaking her head.

“And that only exists in fairy tales,” Regina admonished with a rather supercilious air. “This is the real world, Emma. That sort of thing is impossible here.”

“Henry thinks it is,” Emma protested.

“He’s ten,” Regina asserted. “He’ll grow out of it. I did.”

She glanced sideways at Emma. “And I always thought you had too.”

“Some things are harder to let go of than others.” Emma halted their progress, staring defiantly into Regina’s eyes and frowning a little.

Regina looked down at their hands, fingers intertwined. “Apparently so,” she murmured. “I never took you for the romantic type, Sheriff Swan.”

They began walking again, heading further down Main Street.

“Oh, there are lots of things you don’t know about me,” Emma tilted her head and grinned wickedly at Regina. “We’ve all got our secrets, right?”

“Indeed,” Regina said, tight–lipped. Her own secrets haunted her at night; those nights when she tossed and turned in her bed, tortured by their memory.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” Emma said, with a laugh that barely reached her eyes and sounded hollow, swallowed almost immediately by the cool night air.

As the lights of Granny’s diner sparkled down the street, Regina slowed a little. She let go of Emma’s hand, shoving her own into the pocket of her coat. Temptation was borne out of a love she had already sacrificed at the altar of her misdeeds. When she had killed Graham, Regina had known that the love she wanted to protect couldn’t possibly last — not in the shadow of her actions.

Once Emma knew about her, she would take her love away. The only option was to hide away, to shroud her truest self again. She’d done it for so many years that it had become second nature. And it would serve again now, as always had, to shield her heart from the pain that craving Emma’s love caused it.

Regina smiled widely, pulling her hand from her pocket and reaching for Emma’s once more. This time, her touch was confident and rich with seduction.

“Let’s go home,” she told the blonde. “Let’s see what you can get me to confess to tonight.” Desire glittered in her gaze and Emma found herself weakened by it, sidetracked and quite losing all notions other than the ones that shone in Regina’s eyes.

And if it was a lie; if all of this proved to be untrue, then Emma wanted to enjoy it, even if it did feel like it was dying in her arms.

“Okay,” she said, feeling Regina’s fingers, warm against her own. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Part 34

Sidney paced anxiously in front of Regina’s desk. She sat behind it, motionless apart from her dark gaze tracking his movements. Her fingers were steepled beneath her chin, delicately resting onto them yet with a muscle ticking impatiently in her jaw.

Regina clenched her teeth together, finally sitting up in her chair as Sidney paused in front of her, squirming under her gaze as he always did. She’d always had such power over men, Regina thought to herself. They were so pliable, given the right sort of motivation. The magic that she lacked in this world wouldn’t have given her half the satisfaction that she gleaned from reducing Sidney to a quivering wreck with a single look.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stretching out his arms in a pitiful display of apology. “But Gold hasn’t done anything suspicious.”

Regina snorted in disdain. “His whole presence in this town is based on suspicion,” she remarked. “Or perhaps you’re forgetting who he is?”

She lifted an eyebrow and Sidney made a little bow of subservience in front of her. “Of course,” he nodded with little jerks of his head. “Of course I remember.”

She didn’t resist the smugness that crept across her lips, and Regina eyed the reporter with even more dismissal. He didn’t remember anything she hadn’t put inside his head; nobody did. And that was the way it must continue, or she would risk everything and gain nothing.

Regina had already lost enough. Time was that she tried to save it.

“He’s a menace,” she hissed. “And yet, you’ve found nothing, Sidney. I’m disappointed. I used to wonder what I’d do without you and now I find that you’ve discovered nothing of value. Which means you have no value, Sidney. Do you know what I do with things that hold no value to me? I throw them away.”

He darted forwards, eager to please her, terrified of what might happen should he incur her wrath. “I’ll…I’ll keep looking,” he said eagerly. “Gold has made some out of town contacts that I’m following up.”

“Out of town?” Regina echoed, twin lines appearing between her eyes. “What do you mean, out of town contacts?”

Sidney trembled a little, clenching his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. “A demolition crew. They handle big jobs, from what I can tell so far. But — but I will get more information,” he added hastily.

“Be sure that you do,” Regina said sternly, but her mind was already racing through possibilities of why Gold should need machinery that their town couldn’t provide. A chill worked its way down her back and she railed against it, gritting her teeth together.

Obsequiously excusing himself, Sidney fairly ran for the door and exited. Regina barely noticed, her mind already ahead of him, filled with possible exit strategies of her own should all attempts against Gold fail. Even in Storybrooke, she could feel his particular brand of magic under the surface, tingling at the ends of her fingers and making her skin itch. He had been so powerful back then that although she’d removed his memory, she could never have obliterated his magic. Not completely.

She had just hoped it would remain under the earth on which she’d built her happy ending, buried along with everything else that had grieved her.

Gold wanted to dig, though. He wanted to expose everything Regina had sought to cover with layers of stone and mud. Should he succeed, then it would only be a matter of time before people began to regain their memories. Before she was forced to confront them.

It wasn’t that thought alone that mocked her as she sat rigid behind her desk. She’d been punished before and lived through it, after a fashion. If her secrets were revealed, Regina knew she possessed the fortitude to weather any storm. No; her mind was led once more by her heart and she flinched visibly over its betrayal.

Her heart loved. It could love. And it strained in her chest now as she felt the emotion rush through her veins, bringing her alive again. To be exposed was to lose that feeling, just as she had done before. Regina knew that she couldn’t endure that loss again.

She wouldn’t.

Even if keeping Emma and Henry meant presenting lies as truth, Regina knew she would gild the deception for their sakes. She was too far submerged in the emotion, gasping and reaching for solid ground beneath her feet where there was none. She was flailing, desperate and so consumed by love that she was certain it would leave nothing behind should it disappear.

Regina had looked into the mirror of her life and seen an old reflection staring back at her; a reflection of her former self when hatred had engulfed love in a treacherous, sticky blackness. She wasn’t sure she could stand under Emma’s disappointment; she’d already almost broken under Henry’s.

She nodded to herself. She would sustain the lie for as long as it lasted. For as long as it took to truly win Emma’s heart — to earn it, even.

And Gold? Well, she drew in a breath and her lips clamped together in a firm line, Gold would need to be properly contained, just like his former self had been. What little magic existed in Storybrooke would be erased.

Emma burst through the doorway of Mr Gold’s shop, slamming the door shut behind her. She covered the floor with long, determined strides, resting her hands on the counter as Mr Gold fixed her with a charming smile.

“Sheriff Swan,” he intoned with an incline of his head. “And what can I do for you?”

“I’m here about what you said to me the other day,” she leaned forwards, almost breathless in her need to know if the troubling thoughts in her head might actually be true. “About Regina,” she added hastily, as recognition sparked in Gold’s eyes.

“Ah, yes,” he said, lines around his eyes crinkling with amusement, “I thought you might be.”

“You said she keeps her secrets buried. Did you know her father was interred here in Storybrooke?”

Gold nodded, a distinct pleasure shining in his blackened eyes. “I did,” he replied. “Poor soul.”

“Is that what you meant?” Emma gazed at him curiously. “Is he her secret?”

“Of course not,” Gold huffed a tiny breath of laughter. “Everyone has parents, Sheriff. Even you.” He glanced up at her with a knowing gaze before returning to the items on the counter in front of him, shuffling them between his fingers.

“Right,” Emma nodded, not wanting to think about her own parents, about who they might be, about who they could be, should she suspend her own disbelief. “But if you weren’t talking about Regina’s father, then what the hell were you talking about?”

Gold lifted his head, looking into her eyes. Emma almost shivered under the aching depth she saw there, a bottomless pit lacking empathy and emotion. She always felt it washing over her in waves of blackness whenever Gold was near; the man seemed detached from his humanity, bearing it as a shroud rather than a living, breathing thing that shaped his heart. Emma wondered at the back of her mind what could have happened to him to make him this way. To make him so set apart from the town, yet clutching at it with a grasp that nobody could escape. Not even Regina, it seemed.

A smile passed over Gold’s mouth, as cold and deceptive as he was. He made a small sound of appraisal and tilted his head onto one side.

“I told you before, Sheriff,” he said in a silken tone, “the Mayor’s secrets aren’t for me to reveal. Even if I wanted to,” he added with a smirk.

As Emma stiffened opposite him, he held up a hand to quiet her protests and shrugged. “I may, however, be willing to make a deal,” he told her.

“I don’t make deals with people like you,” Emma snarled, anger stretching her lips taut.

“Oh, really?” Gold’s eyebrows rose and he shook his head. “Not even if I could help you find out what you want to know? Your heart’s desire?” He wiggled his fingers in the air and couldn’t resist a faint laugh. When it came to hearts, Regina wasn’t the only one in town who could tear them from someone’s chest. It was just that Gold preferred to do it slice by slice, delicately and with a surgeon’s precision. That way, he knew, the heart’s destruction would be complete. He had no need to save them the way Regina did. He hadn’t even cared enough to save his own, had he?

“My heart’s desire,” Emma said through gritted teeth, “is to know the truth. And to prove you wrong.”

“Oh,” Mr Gold couldn’t help grinning widely at her forcefulness. He did so admire that about a woman. Especially one who had been as lonely as Emma Swan. “Prove me wrong,” he nodded. “And prove Regina innocent.”

“Listen,” Emma leaned further over the counter, her proximity to Gold making him blink at her in surprise, “I know you think that your deals make this town owe you something, but I don’t. If I owe you, then I’ll pay, fair and square. Now tell me what you know.”

“And if I do,” Gold whispered, eyes glittering. “All I ask is a favor. Just one.”

Emma knew she shouldn’t; she knew that bargaining with Gold was dangerous and not befitting her role as Sheriff. But she knew that her desire to understand Regina and believe in what they had was stronger. So as she pushed herself back from the counter, she nodded imperceptibly.

“Alright,” she said. “Deal.”

Gold clapped his hands together delightedly, smiling wickedly at the Sheriff. “Excellent,” he proclaimed, moving around the counter towards Emma. “Now, Sheriff, what you’re looking for is quite simply found.”

“Where?” Emma took a step away from Gold as he drew nearer, a look of distaste briefly coloring her features.

Gold rolled his eyes and smiled at her as though she was a child. “Follow your heart,” he said gently.

Emma balked, head rearing back on her neck. She felt disgust rise in her stomach at his tone, at the inference of his words. She’d sought to protect the love she felt for Regina and Henry; to store it away inside her chest so that she’d never have to feel how it pulled at her and drove her towards things she’d run from all her life.

She had failed. The emotion she felt burned in her chest and she swallowed over it, sucking in a short breath of fortification.

“That’s meaningless,” she finally said, hands bunching into fists by her sides. “That’s just the sort of shit people say when they know nothing. If you’re lying to me, Gold, I swear I’ll — ”

“Lying?” Gold cut her off and lifted his hand, an expression of deep offense lining his face. “Forgive me, Sheriff, but when I make a deal I honor it. There are no lies in deals; they’re incontrovertibly true. Whether the truth is something we want or not, you’ll always find it in the small print of a deal.”

He paused for a moment, struggling against the anger that gleamed briefly in his gaze.

“Follow your heart, Sheriff. Nothing is more powerful than love; never was, never will be. If you follow what you love, you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

His voice sounded different now; Emma’s eyes narrowed in contemplation of his words and she found herself retracing her steps, following her heart, following Regina to the graveyard.

“I did,” she murmured, before blinking and looking into Gold’s questioning eyes. “I did follow my — I mean, Regina. She went to her father’s crypt.”

“Indeed,” Gold said in a low voice. But he clamped his lips tight shut and refused to elucidate.

Emma shuffled her feet on the floor, irritated and tired of this game. Tired of all the games Storybrooke expected her to play. Crossing her arms over her chest, she rested back on her heels and eyed Gold with a flare of passing anger in her gaze.

“Okay,” she grunted, her chin jerking forwards. “Regina’s got something buried down there? Is that what you’re saying?” The corners of Gold’s mouth turned down but still he remained silent.

“That’s ridiculous,” Emma told him sternly. “I mean, have you heard yourself? Follow your heart? To what, a lump of stone in the cemetery? Whatever Regina’s got buried, it’s not under her father’s grave — under his body!”

She threw her head back, snorting dismissively. “And here’s me thinking you had information that might be helpful. Turns out it’s anything but. You keep your theories about Regina to yourself, Mr Gold.”

Turning on her heel, she stalked towards the door, grabbing at the handle. The bell tinkled above her head and Emma glared up at it for a second before looking at Gold over her shoulder.

“When you’ve got something concrete for me to go on, then we’ll make a deal,” she hissed. “But until then, I don’t owe you anything.”

She left, slamming the door behind her, Gold staring after her with an amused look on his face.

“All debts will be repaid in full,” he said to himself, a wicked smile spreading his lips. “It’s only a matter of time.”

Emma couldn’t sleep, even though the room was quiet and still, only the sound of Regina’s breathing next to her breaking the silence. She’d lain awake ever since they had released one another, panting and unfulfilled. There had been real passion in their lovemaking tonight, but behind it lay an emptiness that yawned between them even as they clutched at one another, flesh needy for succor and comfort.

Regina had rolled away first, turning her back on Emma and dressing in her nightgown almost immediately, sliding it down over skin that still bore the vestiges of heat and sweat. Lying back in the bed, Regina had pulled the covers up over her body, shoulders hunched as she turned onto her side and shoved a hand underneath the pillow beneath her head.

Emma had dressed more slowly, tugging the shorts she wore to bed over her long limbs, pulling on a white vest over her head and shaking out her hair. She sighed, slumping forwards as she sat on the edge of the bed. Regina’s body had crested towards her own and wound itself around her in seduction and lust, but there was something wrong; Emma knew it. There had been a desperation in Regina’s caress; a want that would never be sated by mere physicality — not even the sort that they had together.

A troubled expression had worked its way around Emma’s features as she tucked her legs under the covers and lay down again. She’d glanced at Regina’s shoulders, pale and still beside her. And she’d wondered, once more, if Gold’s riddles held any truth. Emma felt herself shy away from it, for the sake of her heart; for the sake of Regina’s, too. But the separation had already begun; of that she was certain. The brightly burning flame that she and Regina had surrendered to was already fading, flickering in the approaching gloom that sent a chill down Emma’s spine.

Perhaps it just wasn’t meant to last, she’d told herself silently, staring up into the dark recesses of the bedroom ceiling. The good stuff never did. Emma had learned that the hard way; the torturous way.

The hours passed and Emma found no respite in that knowledge.

It was only when she heard a tiny sigh from the other side of the bed that she knew she wasn’t alone in her sleepless thoughts.

“You’re awake too,” she stated, rolling over and staring at Regina’s shoulders. They didn’t move for a long moment, during which Emma heard another sigh escape Regina’s mouth.

Then, moving in the bed, Regina turned to lie on her other side and blinked at the sudden closeness of Emma’s face. They stared at one another, eyes meeting in the gray light of the bedroom.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Regina murmured, a tiny frown etching lines on her brow.

“Wanna talk about it?” Emma asked, inching forwards so that she was closer to the other woman.

Regina rolled her eyes and shifted backwards a little, away from Emma’s encroaching warmth. It was ironic that the only person she felt she could talk to was the one person who must know nothing. That was how this worked — how it would continue to work.

“Okay then,” Emma hummed, “maybe not.”

“I’m not much of a talker,” Regina said, a smirk on her mouth. “I’m more of a doer.” She leaned forwards over the distance between them and kissed Emma on the lips; a slow, lingering thrill that echoed down both their bodies. Then she was gone, retreating to her side of the bed and laying her head back onto the plush pillow.

“Besides, a little insomnia doesn’t mean I’m about to indulge in girltalk,” Regina snorted dismissively.

“Pity,” Emma’s voice was sarcastic. “I was really looking forward to the part where we braid one another’s hair.”

Regina let out a huff of mirthless laughter and pursed her lips. “Isn’t that the sort of thing you do with Mary Margaret ?” she asked, a sullen expression tugging at her mouth. “Don’t you two share things?”

“We do,” Emma nodded, scooting a little closer to Regina. This time, the other woman didn’t pull away. “But we’re not twelve, Regina. She’s my friend. Don’t you talk to your friends?”

“I only really have Kathryn,” Regina mused, before a dark look clouded her features and she blinked. “She’s not that kind of friend. Not…not the sort that Mary Margaret clearly is to you.”

“Are you jealous?” Emma peered into Regina’s eyes as the other woman snorted in abject dismissal. “Okay, if you’re not jealous, then what is it?” Emma pursued an answer, leaning up and over Regina in the dim light of the bedroom.

“Mary Margaret has only ever shown me kindness and generosity since I came here. I didn’t have a lot of that growing up, you know? Mary Margaret took me in when nobody else would. It’s just…it’s her way. She wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Emma told Regina, a firmness to her tone.

But Regina knew that wasn’t true. That Mary Margaret — or her former self, anyway — had hurt much more than that. Coming to this world might have removed all her fight and made her a weakling among princesses, but still she came in between Regina and what her heart wanted the most. The familial bond she’d formed with Emma was a source of much troubled thought in Regina’s head. And it had happened so naturally that she hadn’t had time to stop it, only perceiving its strength once it was firmly held by both women.

Emma could break the curse. Regina knew it now more than she’d ever suspected before. Emma was a child borne of true love, the savior of a land that Regina had left blackened by her anger and raging hatred. As Emma’s hands crept around her waist, Regina felt their warmth sliding over her skin like a sunrise, marking a newer day. It shone briefly in her eyes, lifting Regina towards a world where her curse was gone, taking with it the burden that she carried, heavier every day.

But the feeling, like the warmth of Emma’s hands, soon faded, leaving behind it only the chill of darkness as it made its way over Regina’s body.

Because there was no saving her. There was only this: this love that she felt so strongly that it weakened her in ways she had never thought possible. This love that had put her back together again when she had been fractured, shattered into splinters that pricked her chest and sliced through her heart. Should Emma break the curse, then Regina knew that her world here would be lost and, along with it, the love that she felt.

The only way to protect that love was to remain here, in Storybrooke. And to keep Emma here, too.

Moving into Emma’s embrace, Regina turned, grasping as Emma’s hand as it slid over her belly. It was the only way to extend the lie, after all. To protect this intimacy she must indulge in it. Revel in it. Make Emma believe it. Even a belief of love was better than what she’d had before, Regina thought, as Emma dropped a gentle kiss onto her shoulder. Even the belief of love might save the unlovable.

“Whatever’s keeping you awake, you can tell me,” Emma whispered into the nape of Regina’s neck as she scooted up behind her.

“Presently, that appears to be you,” Regina’s reply was lined with a hard edge.

“So prickly,” Emma murmured, her embrace tightening a little. “Don’t want to let that guard down now, do we?”

“With you?” Regina snapped back. “Never.”

“Do you want to?”

The question hung between them for a moment, floating possibilities high above their heads. It spoke of faith, of an assurance that neither of them really felt tonight, in this bed. It taunted them with its seductive and terrifying openness. It mocked them for their inability to trust it. But they wanted to…oh how they desperately wanted to.

It was Regina who spoke first, her fingers ghosting lines over the back of Emma’s hand, resting like a burning coal on her stomach.

“I don’t…I don’t really know how.”

As queen, Regina had forgotten the path that led back to redemption. No; it was more than that. She had allowed it to become so overgrown with black thorns that to traverse it would have been suicidal. So she had ignored it, instead following other roads, the easy journey that led her to magic and darkness and the ruin that brought her here to Storybrooke.

All that she had spurned, all that she had cursed and obliterated from her world came rushing back to her now. She felt love — of that she was certain. But a feeling was only recognized when it was shared. And that, Regina accepted, was something she simply lacked the ability to do.

“Me either,” Emma’s voice was at her ear, tickling strands of hair on her skin. Regina shivered, despite the warm body against her own.

“But I figure we’d better learn.”

“Is that an ultimatum?” Regina’s voice was sharpened by anxiety once more.

“No,” Emma huffed a tiny laugh. “I just want to know if…if this is real, you know?”

Regina broke Emma’s embrace, rolling over in the bed to stare into Emma’s eyes. She looked curiously at their deep hue, seeking her own reality in their sheen and finding none. Nothing that could satisfy her desperate need for Emma’s love. She saw fear — the fear that a heart was too fragile to bear Regina’s love. That nothing could survive the all–encompassing feeling that trembled at Regina’s limbs and crossed all the lines she’d drawn for herself.

Her own reality was a lie. Storybrooke was beginning to crumble; Regina knew it. And all that lay beneath was the fruition of a curse that had torn, not only her kingdom asunder, but herself too. So as she reached for Emma, laying her hand onto the other woman’s cheek, Regina accepted her own destruction with an incline of her head.

“Would you still believe in it, even if it wasn’t?” she asked gently.

Emma blinked. “What do you — I don’t — I don’t know what that means,” she said, confused.

Regina stroked her thumb down Emma’s cheek, leaning in and kissing the blonde softly, lips stroking over lips with a feather–touch. She rested her forehead against Emma’s, breathing in the warmth that flickered between them like an errant flame.

“You will,” Regina smiled. Then, leaning back, she lay down in the bed again, this time behind Emma. She slid her arms around the blonde, feeling the other woman’s sigh vibrate against her chest. “In time,” she said, as Emma mumbled sleepily and fumbled for Regina’s hand.

Yes; Regina thought to herself as she pressed her mouth against Emma’s naked shoulder. Even the White Knight could believe a lie if it felt like the truth. And time, forever against them, whirled in an ageless moment as Regina closed her eyes, laid her head onto Emma’s back and finally, thankfully, fell asleep.

Part 35

The morning the machines rumbled through town, Henry had insisted on spending the day with Emma. Regina had given him permission to ride with the Sheriff on patrol and Emma had gleefully taken the opportunity to cruise around the town, Henry beside her. The more time they spent together, the more the kid was slowly coming to terms with the fact that his fairytales hadn’t ended the way he’d anticipated. Disappointment was a terrible burden for the boy to carry, and Emma had taken it upon herself to try and show him that this world — this reality — could be his happy ending, if he’d just let it.

They’d barely completed a circuit of the downtown route when the demolition crew and their entourage of diggers and dump trucks roared past, heading out towards where the old mine had collapsed.

Emma had ordered Henry to sit tight as she steered the cruiser into the wake of the traffic, finally coming to a stop as the machines gathered in a circle around the open mouth of the mine. She was hastily out of the car and heading over to the group of workmen before Henry barely had time to blink.

“Hey, what’s going on here?” She grabbed one of the workmen by the arm, turning him to look at her. His face contorted into an unpleasant scowl until Emma flashed her Sheriff’s badge and he relented, just a little. Towering over her, he had the nerve to rake his gaze up and down her body with a salacious grin across his mouth. Emma bristled, clenching her hands into fists, taken by the sudden desire to remove the smile from his mouth. And some of his teeth.

“Brain surgery,” the workman’s mouth twisted in sarcasm as he shrugged, hands in the air. “Whatdya think, sweetheart? We’re digging.”

Emma nodded, reaching for her badge and holding it up in front of him. “See that?” she said in a low, dangerous voice. “That says “Sheriff", not sweetheart. One more crack like that from you and I’ll throw you behind bars so fast you won’t be digging anything ever again. Got me?”

She moved towards him threateningly and saw doubt enter his gaze. He faltered as she glared at him, finally stepping back and holding up his hands again, this time in surrender.

“Okay, okay,” he growled, as a familiar figure stepped out from between two huge machines and limped towards Emma. With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed the workman. Emma glowered at how such a small stature could possess such unerring authority. But that was his way. How he survived.

“Sheriff Swan, is there a problem?” Mr Gold asked as he approached Emma.

“Mr Gold, I might have guessed,” Emma folded her arms over her chest and watched as Gold stopped just a few feet away. “What’s going on here?”

He frowned, blinking rapidly. “I’m excavating the old mine,” he said innocently. “This is my land, Sheriff. I can do whatever I want with it.”

“Oh, really?” Emma laughed and her head jerked back on her neck. “What about noise pollution? What about the inconvenience to the town when you’re driving ten ton trucks through it? What about if the tunnels in that mine,” she pointed towards it with a jabbing finger, “cause subsidence across this whole area?”

“You’ll find that all the appropriate paperwork has been completed,” Mr Gold parried, taking a step towards Emma. He grinned at her, a cold disdain in his eyes. “Really, dear, considering you have such a close relationship with the Mayor, old Regina isn’t sharing much with you, is she?”

“The Mayor’s office approved this?” Emma was confused, not to mention a little angry. “What the hell did you do, Gold?”

He smirked now, remembering his meeting with Regina and how she’d fought so, so hard to stand her ground. Sometimes it wasn’t the size of a victory that counted, he mused; sometimes it was just that it was a victory at all that gave him such pleasure. But then, he always had loved the small things; the subtlety of power and not its grandeur that had fascinated him. Regina might control almost everything in Storybrooke, but when it came to details, Gold knew he would always find a way around her.

“I asked you a question,” Emma growled, taking a step closer to him and bringing him out of his reverie. He looked at her and smiled politely.

“I said ‘please’,” he intoned, grasping his cane and prodding it into the ground under their feet. “Manners go a long, long way with me,” he added with a tiny laugh.

“As Sheriff,” Emma said, trying to shake off her anger, sensing that he was mocking her with his solicitous tone and incline of his head. “I should be informed about what it is you’re doing here. Excavating what? That mine collapsed for a reason, you know. It’s dangerous down there.”

“Hence my bringing in the best that money could buy.” Gold waved his cane towards the machines behind him and the men they carried, huddled together and lighting cigarettes in cupped hands. “These mines,” he continued, drawing Emma’s gaze back to his face once more, “once contained precious jewels. I intend to find out if they still do.”

“Seriously?” Emma said, disbelief crossing her features. “You’re digging for buried treasure? In Storybrooke?”

“Oh, don’t be so hasty to dismiss it, dear,” Gold looked at her in admonishment. “Who knows what you might find once you dig beneath the surface? His voice lowered to an intimate tone that caused a shiver to spill out across Emma’s back and she blinked, trying to dispel the image of Regina emerging from her father’s crypt.

“It’s all a case of having the means and the courage to do so,” Gold said, turning to look at the mine’s open mouth. “I might find nothing,” he shrugged. “Or I might happen upon something…”

He looked back at Emma now, teeth bared in a smile of victory. “Something that could change everything,” he said slowly.

Realization, thus far, had come in pieces; shreds of suspicion that Emma formulated and stored away. But those pieces had never made sense — the jigsaw puzzle had remained indefinable: colours, feelings, senses. Nothing that Emma could discern fully or completely.

But she knew now what those pieces meant. Where they were leading her. What she had to do — what she must do — presented itself to her now. And she had to do it, or nothing would ever change. Without truth, without certainty, nothing ever could.

As Gold’s assurances of safety fell on her ears, Emma nodded, only half listening. She backed away from him, turning and making her way back to the car with a determined stride. She slid into her seat, slamming the door shut and twisting the ignition key, revving the engine loudly.

“What’s going on?” Henry asked, peering up into her face.

“Just some excavation,” Emma said, frowning as she turned the car, heading down the track that would take them back onto an access road, and then into town. “Just some digging.”

“Mr Gold’s digging the old mine? Did he find something? Is there something down there?” Henry’s voice reached a persistent, high note as the cruiser bumped over the track and Emma cursed softly under her breath.

“I knew I saw something down there, Emma! I knew I did!”

“Sure, kid,” she muttered, grasping the steering wheel firmly and navigating them onto the blessedly smooth surface of the road that led back into Storybrooke. “There’s something down there alright.”

But she wasn’t thinking about the mine, nor was she thinking about Henry’s assertions. Emma’s mind fled to one thing — one person. Glancing down at the boy beside her, she offered him an apologetic smile.

“Listen, Henry,” she said, as they sped back towards town, “I’m gonna drop you off at your mom’s office.” As his face fell into an expression of reluctance, she reached out and patted his leg. “There’s something I have to check out and I can’t take you with me. Police business, okay?”

He nodded slowly. “I guess,” he sighed.

Henry squinted up at Emma and saw determination written in deep lines over her features. The last thing he wanted was to spend time with Regina, but he could tell that Emma had decided he wouldn’t accompany her and wasn’t about to change her mind. When she looked like this, arguing was pretty futile.

She sometimes looked that way when she was defending his mother. He hated seeing them together; he was terrified for Emma and for the love she showed his mother. But he had also recognized the subtle changes in Regina; changes that confused him and made him wary of her affections for both himself and Emma.

It felt like the rules of the Evil Queen’s game had changed, only Henry no longer knew how to play. Even as he hated Regina for what she’d done, he also endured her version of love because it made Emma happy. Occasionally, he’d almost believed Regina’s embrace was borne of love, not possession. Once, he’d actually clung to her when she put her arms around him and felt…something new. Different.

That day, Emma had told him she was proud of him. It had sent a warm feeling flooding through his chest and he’d smiled so widely that it felt as though his face might split.

That day, Henry had resolved to play by Regina’s rules. If playing this game made Emma happy, then he would continue to do it for as long as he lived.

Emma tripped and scrambled her way through the cemetery. In the afternoon sunshine, it was bright and filled with birdsong as she made her way through trees and past headstones. She was breathless when she reached the crypt, pausing in its shadow. The dark gloom it cast over her reached beneath the skin, and there was that feeling again: a skittering nervousness jangling inside her, doubt echoing in its wake.

She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.

Squeezing them into tight fists, Emma looked up at the crypt again, moving towards the door and stepping up onto the huge stone slab at its entrance. Her fingers closed around the handle and she felt renewed strength flow through her. If there was nothing to find, as Gold had suggested, then everything would be okay. Everything would be just fine.

Repeating the phrase like a mantra in her head, Emma shouldered the door and pushed it open with a loud, grating noise as it slid back on the stone floor.

Stepping into the crypt, Emma’s footsteps resounded in her ears and she shuffled forwards, looking all around. She saw the smooth, rounded surface of the sarcophagus, flowers that Regina had placed there looking ghostly white against the stone. Reaching out, Emma touched them tentatively, the stems hard under her skin, petals silken as she ran her fingertips over them.

She could hear her own breathing, quickened and harsh to her ears, the noise heightened by the crypt’s stone walls. As it was thrown back at her in a whispering echo, Emma swallowed hard. Squeezing her eyes shut for a second, she attempted to control the pounding of her heart and looked around again. Shelves. A few jars. Some aging flowers in a vase.

But nothing else. Nothing but stone and her growing sense of bewildered, anxious fear.

Puffing her cheeks, she let out a long air that turned into a bark of laughter at herself. Ridiculous. This was all ridiculous. She’d have Gold’s head for putting such notions into her mind. She laughed again, the sound ricocheting off the walls around her, returning with a mocking note.

Emma ignored it. There was nothing here; nothing to incriminate Regina in anything other than being a devoted daughter. With a faint swagger, Emma turned and leant heavily onto the sarcophagus behind her.

And then she heard it.

A tiny scrape. Stone against stone. Barely audible but she knew she’d heard it, as sure as she was that the sarcophagus had moved under her back.

Spinning around, Emma gazed down at the ground. A tiny chink of light blinked up at her as she dropped to her knees, pawing at the edge of the sarcophagus. The light became brighter, stronger, as if it was beckoning Emma to release it.

Getting up onto her feet, Emma stared down at the huge sarcophagus, a frown playing over her features. Then, placing both hands onto the edge of the stone lip, she braced her feet onto the crypt’s floor and pushed with all her might.

She let out a cry as the sarcophagus began to grind backwards, achingly slow under her efforts. Redoubling them, Emma gritted her teeth as the chink of blue light intensified, finally shining up through a huge, open hole in the floor.

The light filled the tomb now, winding its way up a stone staircase that led downwards. Emma blinked, holding up a hand in front of her eyes while they adjusted. By the time she dropped it, her hand had begun to shake once more and Emma gasped as she peered down the staircase.

All the momentary comfort she had felt ran from her, leaving only a cold sense of realization that twisted and coiled in her gut.

Even as she contemplated the ramifications of following the staircase, Emma’s foot was upon the first step and she moved forwards, her boots thudding in a deeper tone as she descended.

It was like walking into another land, she thought absently as her hands trailed down the stone walls on either side of her. Everything Regina keeps buried, Gold’s words rang in her brain and she frowned against them.

That still small voice inside her head rebuked him, pushed his insinuations away with a certainty of feeling. Surely there could be nothing in the world, not even buried away like this, that could change her feelings for Regina. Nothing that might dissuade her of the belief that her love — that her and Henry’s love could make Regina happy. That it had done for all these past months.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and stopped, looking around the room shaped out of earth and stone. Arches ran overhead, bricks neatly laid to create a dome above her. A passage led towards a pair of aged, dusty velvet curtains. Emma glanced back up the stairs to where ignorance lay, begging her to take it.

But she couldn’t. She had to know.

Shaking her head, she moved down the passageway and reached out for one of the curtains. Pushing it gently to one side, she entered the room beyond. It seemed to shine more brightly than the rest of the tomb; light seemed to emanate from the wall of boxes that it illuminated, reaching from floor to ceiling in symmetrical form.

“Oh…Henry,” Emma whispered, letting out an audible sigh as her shoulders dropped.

He’d shown her this picture in the book. It was where the Evil Queen kept all her hearts — the ones she’d stolen to feed her rage. It was all the same. Everything was exactly the same as the picture. A sickeningly icy chill made its way down Emma’s back and she shuddered, clutching at her stomach as she moved past the curtains.

The boxes stretched in front of her, their faces gleaming blue in the light that surrounded them. Emma lifted a hand, fingers trembling as she moved towards one of the boxes. When her skin made contact with the metal, another shudder wracked he body and Emma felt nausea rise in her throat.

There was a click. A faint sound of metal on metal. The front of the box thrust out from the wall, sliding towards Emma as though by some magical power and not a mechanism.

She blinked, shook her head. She even jumped up and down on the stone floor, desperate to feel its solidity beneath her feet; craving knowledge, confirmation, truth. Emma had to know if it was real — if all of it was real; if Henry’s stories were true. If fairytales were true. Because if they were, then the woman she’d fallen in love with was, Emma winced, the Evil Queen of Henry’s imaginings.

And if that was Regina’s true identity, then everything between them had been a lie. Gold had said that Regina was incapable of feeling love. Emma felt knowledge like a punch in the gut and she bent slightly. He knew. He’d always known. Regina was the Evil Queen. Fueled by rage and pain, she was incapable of feeling anything other than blackness. Evil.

Lifting the box from its little shelf, Emma knew what she was going to find inside it even before she flipped the clasp and pushed the lid open. As her gaze drifted downwards, her throat thickened in terror at what she saw.

A heart. Shrivelled and half dead, a faint red glow pulsing inside it.

With an involuntary motion, Emma slammed the box shut and cast it away from her, hearing it bump into the further recesses of the room, lost in shadows. She staggered backwards, one hand over her mouth, and crashed painfully into the edge of the stone doorway. A plume of dust flooded over her shoulder as she plunged against the velvet curtain and she shrieked, finally able to give voice to her fearful horror.

Then her legs gave way, suddenly and so quickly that Emma slid to the floor of the chamber, hands scrambling at the stone, nails scraping over it with sharp, clicking sounds. But she was unable to stand, unable to comprehend, flailing miserably for rationality and answers that she knew…she was certain that she wouldn’t find here.

Not in this mausoleum where Regina had hidden a wall of hearts.

Drawing her knees to her chest, Emma clasped her arms around them and bent her head forwards. She felt like she was going to be sick; her stomach retching and throat burning with acidic emotion.

It was all true. Everything Henry had told her and shown her was all true. Her mother and father…Snow White and Prince Charming. And she, the child borne of their true love who would return to Storybrooke to break the curse.

The curse. It exploded into Emma’s brain with an efficiency that reduced thoughts to ashes as quickly as they appeared. Regina. The woman who had loved her as much as was necessary in order to maintain compliancy. In order to take Emma’s heart, just as she had all the other victims that rose up before her in boxes of silver and gold.

Emma felt it beat so hard in her chest that she gasped over it, over the love she’d allowed inside that was nothing but lies. Oh yes; she’d wanted the truth. Now it reared up in front of her, Emma found that she longed for what the citizens of Storybrooke had. She yearned for this not to be; truth rendering love futile in this foreign land.

Regina had cursed everyone to this life. This unreality that was hers to command. She’d fought to protect and preserve it. Emma squeezed her eyes shut and quelled the sobbing gasp that rose in her chest. Regina had killed Graham. She’d taken his heart and removed all that was good from it as surely as if she’d cut him down in the woods.

No.

Emma tried to remember the intimacies. The swell of Regina’s body underneath her own. The expression she wore when she swayed under Emma’s touch. It had seemed too real, too intense to be a façade.

And then, Emma felt it all around her. A swirl of black that danced and leapt in front of her eyes, pinching at her with hard little fingers that sent icy flames racing across her skin.

She wanted to fight it. She wanted to resist it as it wrapped itself around her. Breathing it in, she choked on it, thick and cloying in her throat. Her face twisted into disgust as she got to her feet, pressing herself back against the stone wall behind her.

It was evil. Wickedness, rotting down here with all that was bad in the world. In any world, Emma corrected herself. It caressed her with the same seductions she’d felt from Regina’s fingertips. It burned with the same darkness she’d seen in Regina’s eyes. It tempted her to return to Regina’s bed, to her arms, to the love she could offer.

If she allowed it inside, Emma knew, then she would ignore all of this. She could ignore all of this, should she simply open up, and let it in. Emma bent towards it, craving the cold comfort it offered. For a moment, she wanted to be with Regina more than anything.

It would be so easy to go back to the way things were, Emma thought briefly. To crawl back into Regina’s bed and her life like nothing had ever happened. Even if Regina didn’t — couldn’t — love her, Emma knew that she would. She just had to try harder, love more. They just needed time. She just needed time.

The air in the room became dense, so thick that Emma gagged over it. Lurching from the room, the velvet curtains flew up in the air as she pushed past them and into the passageway once more. Palm spread out on the stone wall, she bent at the waist, dry heaving, eyes watering.

She shouldn’t have expected anything more. That was how the Evil Queen worked, wasn’t it? With seductions and charms and ways to snatch a heart so that only an empty shell remained.

And Emma felt love again, hollow and empty as Regina had designed it. Even as she straightened, pressing a hand over her thudding chest; even as she felt blood rushing around her veins, Emma doubted it. Because Regina had taken her heart, just like Henry had said. But she’d taken it in the most painful way possible, love her sharpened tool of extraction.

Emma’s anger was hot enough to drive her up the staircase with pounding boots. It was hot enough to replace the sarcophagus and leave the crypt with rage flaring in her gaze. It burned brightly, adrenalin pulsing around her body.

But as with all flames, especially those that had engulfed Emma and Regina, it died. Emma looked up at the darkening sky and felt a chill return to her skin once more, the heat of her anger giving way to sorrow and pain. The adrenalin dissipated, her legs wobbled underneath her.

Clutching at herself, Emma sank to her knees, bending over. Grief overwhelmed her and she began to cry; tears of sadness, tears of loss, tears for the pain that echoed a long, sustained chord of pity in her heart. It resonated in her head, resounding back through her life — a life in which Emma had been so lonely, and was again.

Regina had once told her that happy endings didn’t exist for people like them. That was why she’d hidden all of this. The curse had swallowed her into its depths too and Emma had changed all of that. Yet still Regina had lured her into the world she’d created, and Emma had fallen for all the lies because she loved Regina so desperately.

Yes; Regina had told her that there were no happy endings. And as she gave way to the sobs that threatened to rip her chest apart, Emma knew that she’d been right.

Part 36

Regina was reading in the study when she heard her front door being flung open. Wincing as it hit the wall behind it with a crash, she was on her feet in an instant, racing into the hallway with surprise and anger gleaming in her gaze.

“What the hell do you – ?” she stopped abruptly as she saw Emma, wild–eyed and somewhat disheveled, racing up the stairs.

“Henry!” Emma screamed, hanging on to the bannister and peering up the staircase. “Henry, come out here now!”

The boy appeared almost immediately on the landing, staring down first at Emma, then at the figure of his mother, walking slowly into view.

“Get some things, pack a bag,” Emma demanded breathlessly. “Then go get in the car and stay there.”

Henry’s eyes widened and he blinked at Emma, then at Regina. “Why — ”

“Do what I say, Henry.” Emma’s voice lowered to a graveled tone and she stared at him meaningfully. He nodded silently and scurried back inside his room.

“Would you like to tell me just what the hell is going on?”

Emma turned on the staircase, finally acknowledging Regina’s presence. She gazed down at eyes that had held warmth, at features that she’d traced with fingertips and mouth. She looked down and all she saw was the woman she loved.

The woman who had fooled her. Taken her heart.

And it was easy now, to hate Regina. Hate who she’d been. What she’d done.

“I know,” Emma descended the stairs, finger outstretched towards Regina. “I know who you are.”

Regina’s head jerked back on her neck and she looked at Emma with something akin to disbelief. “Of course you do, dear,” she smiled. “I’m the Mayor and you’re the Sheriff.”

“No,” Emma shook her head resolutely, reaching the foot of the stairs and rounding upon Regina. “That’s not true, is it?”

Regina opened her mouth to protest, but Emma moved in close, so close that her mouth was almost upon the other woman’s, a ragged breath all that lay between them.

“Is it?” Emma hissed against Regina’s lips. “Your majesty.”

Regina’s smile froze on her mouth like a rictus grin. Her eyes flew open and everything faded to black in her gaze, enveloping them both in a cloud of dark electricity. It sparked and crackled between them as they stared at one another, White Knight and Evil Queen unveiled, at last.

“Emma?”

Henry’s voice came from the foot of the stairs. Emma held out her hand, palm up.

“Go and get in the car, Henry,” she said in a low tone.

When he didn’t move, Emma glanced round at him. “Now!” she cried.

He jumped, running for the door as fast as his legs would carry him. Emma waited until she heard the car door slam shut and took a step back, her gaze tracking up and down Regina’s body.

“Nothing to say?” Emma jerked out her chin, pain twisting at her mouth. Even now, she might accept explanations. Even though her heart was already breaking, she might take the opportunity to heal it again. If it was offered.

Regina wrapped her arms around her body and swayed back a little on her hips, a flash of onyx in her gaze.

“Such as?” she held her poise for as long as she could before her shoulders dropped and she clutched at her sides. She’d anticipated the disappointment that shone in tear–stained eyes, but seeing it was unbearable. Her head bowed and Regina began to feel herself breaking apart, piece by aching piece.

“This is insane,” Emma began to pace back and forth in front of Regina. “This is fucking insane,” she muttered to herself. “How could you do this? How the hell could you do this to…to Henry and all the people here?”

She halted, turning to face Regina and grabbing her upper arms, shaking her a little. “Tell me,” she demanded. “How could you do this. Who the fuck are you?”

Emma shook Regina again, this time harder and with more vigor. Regina literally hung in her grasp and Emma hated her. Because all she wanted, even now, was to offer comfort. Regina was hurting. And the remnants of a woman she’d buried under revenge and hate were beginning to show. Emma wondered if that was the woman she’d fallen in love with. If that was the woman she might save.

No.

It was too late, Emma thought, a surge of fury ripping through her once more. She pushed at Regina, the other woman smashing into the wall. She cried with pain and looked at Emma with horror in her gaze, the comprehension of what was happening finally dawning on her.

Gripping Regina by the throat, Emma shoved her head back against the wall and glared into her black eyes.

“Who the fuck are you?” she demanded, her fingers flexing over Regina’s pale throat. A pulse beat wildly under her fingertip; the only sign of Regina’s fear.

“I’m exactly who you think I am,” the Mayor croaked, trying to swallow, her throat constricted by Emma’s grasp.

“Who I think you are?” Emma growled, darting her face into Regina’s for a second. Their lips were close, like lovers, like predators. “I think you’re a liar, Regina. Or,” she jerked backwards and shoved Regina up against the wall with more force, “is that even your real name? Because everything else has been a lie, hasn’t it? Everything Henry told me and I wouldn’t believe him because of you. Because of you, Regina!”

Again, Emma pushed at Regina, aware that her fingers would leave marks on Regina’s throat, aware that she didn’t much care anymore. It would be Regina’s memory of her. The only one Emma would allow her.

“I didn’t lie to you,” Regina hissed. “I didn’t — ”

“Shut up!” Emma let go of Regina, throwing her hands up into the air and turning away. She marched off a few paces before spinning around. Regina was breathing in long lungfuls of air, pressing at her throat with anxious fingertips. But her eyes…her eyes were on Emma, watching every move she made. And her heart? It was already broken.

“Emma, please, let me explain,” Regina began haltingly, but Emma turned on her with eyes ablaze and for once, the queen fell silent under the gaze of her White Knight.

“How could you?” Emma cried, arms outstretched. “You made me stay here, Regina. You let me fall in love with my son!”

Her throat thickened with the pain of it, her voice strangled to a sob as she looked into Regina’s eyes and wanted it all back. Wanted it so much that she knew she could never have it. This was life, in or out of a fairytale. Sometimes the heroes didn’t get their happy ending. Sometimes, nobody did.

“You made me fall in love with you,” Emma said, the tears she’d been holding back finally creeping across her cheeks. She rubbed at them angrily, finally opening her eyes and staring down at Regina, looking for good and seeing only evil.

Regina reached forwards, arms held out beseechingly. “As I did with you!” she sobbed. But Emma lurched away, lip curled as though Regina’s touch was poison.

“Liar!” Emma hissed, shaking her head. “You lied about everything, Regina! All of this…the whole of Storybrooke lives a life you chose for them! With a wall of hearts hidden beneath it,” she spat, Regina’s eyes wide and pitiful over her accusation. “Yeah, that’s right. I’ve seen it all.”

“Please,” Emma held out her hands in a parody of begging, “tell me how something as wicked and vile as you could ever love anything or anyone? I’m dying to hear that one.”

She laughed mirthlessly and sneered at Regina. “Come on, your majesty. Explain to me how something like you could feel anything other than hate, and vengeance, and loneliness.”

“I don’t know how,” Regina gasped. “But I do, Emma. You were the one person I shouldn’t have been able to love, but I do.”

Regina trembled as the words formed on her lips, feeling their weight and their liberation.

“I love you. I love our son.”

Once those damning words had left her mouth, Regina knew that all she wanted was to say them again, and again, and never, ever stop.

“You killed Graham, didn’t you?”

Regina sank to her knees, a sob of confession sticking in her throat. All was lost; she knew it now. All was lost. Tears blurred her vision as she began to cry; with it came all the loss Regina had ever known, as painful now as it had been the first time. All the fear, all the terror of what she’d become flooded over her as she cried for her lonely, wicked life.

“You disgust me.” Emma’s voice came from above her head and Regina looked up through tear–streaked features to see the blonde staring down at her, hard lines across her face.

“Emma, please,” Regina implored, holding out her hand, “I had to do it. I had to! To protect you…protect us…all of us. I love you.”

“You killed him, Regina!” Emma roared, slapping the other woman’s hand away. “You don’t love me. You can’t. You’re evil, Regina, in this world or any other. You destroy the things people love. So I’m taking Henry away before you destroy him.”

“No…” Regina sobbed, shaking her head. “Please don’t take him away from me. Don’t leave me.”

The aching sorrow in Regina’s plea filled the hollow in Emma’s soul and she faltered, looking down at Regina’s hunched, broken figure. She wanted so much to take her in an embrace that would chase the sorrow away. God, Emma wanted it so much that her heart lurched in her chest and she winched at how it beat for this woman even now.

“He’s our son. Yours and mine. He’s ours.”

Emma blinked, shaking her head. She had learned of the malevolence in the Evil Queen’s heart from Henry’s stories. But in loving Regina, Emma had learned of the true evils that lurked in every word Regina had ever said to her, every caress that she’d accepted and wanted. It burned in her throat now and her face twisted over it. Over the betrayal of intimacy and the broken promise of love.

“No, he’s not. He’s my son, Regina. You’re not his mother. You’re some disgusting, soulless…thing.” Emma almost choked on the truth and pressed a hand over her mouth, swallowing the wave of nausea there.

“Please don’t take him,” Regina cried, hand outstretched once more, tugging on the bottom of Emma’s jacket. “I need more time with you…please…I need more time to show you…”

Emma snatched her jacket from Regina’s grasp, taking a step back. “I don’t want anything from you,” she snarled. “You’ve already done enough.”

“Please,” Regina begged. “You love me, Emma. You know you do.”

Their eyes met and held. Emma felt her love for Regina surge in her chest, filling it with light and life. She clung to how it felt, racing around beneath her skin and drawing her to this woman time and again. Inevitability shone white, blinding her and making her pause, staring into the glistening blackness of Regina’s eyes. She did love Regina. Almost enough to relent. Almost enough to fall into those beckoning pools of pitch. Because, for the briefest of moments, Emma thought she saw love shining in Regina’s gaze.

It burned brightly, then disappeared into darkest night.

From that night, Regina emerged. More powerful and terrible than ever before. And Emma saw her, then, clothed in malicious intent. She saw who Regina had been, how her powers had enabled her to exact a horrid revenge on those who dared take arms against her. The maelstrom in Regina’s eyes spoke of a great fury, a great betrayal, a great curse — perhaps the greatest curse of all. Everything Regina had been was laid bare as Emma gazed at her, into her.

Gasping, Emma took another step back, shaking her head wordlessly. Regina reached out to her again.

“If you go,” she said through broken sobs, “my heart will break. I know it.”

“Good,” Emma spat. “Then you’ll know how I feel. Henry told me you’d taken my heart and I didn’t believe him. But you did anyway, Regina. You ripped it out of my chest and put it into one of your little boxes because I feel nothing here anymore.” She touched her hand briefly to her chest and tried to quell her tears, her horror.

Emma Swan had learned to see lies. Learned to seek the truth, however difficult. As Regina collapsed in front of her, she knew that she had lied. She didn’t feel nothing. In fact, Emma felt everything, all at once. And the pain was so great, she barely made it to the front door before her legs gave way and she leaned heavily against the doorway for support. She hung her head, gasping for breath, when she heard the sound of her name in such anguished tones that she shuddered.

“You promised,” Regina cried out. “You promised you’d never leave. That’s what made me love you, Emma. Because everyone always leaves and you promised that you never would!”

Emma straightened in the doorway, staring out at the pathway with tears running down her cheeks. Beyond the gate, she saw Henry leaning up in the Bug with a curious, concerned expression on his features. If this town was cursed by Regina’s hand, she told herself, she wouldn’t allow her son to be another victim of it. He was her heart now; he had to be. They would get as far away from Storybrook as they could. And they would survive.

Anyone could live without a heart, without love to make it soar. Emma’s mouth hardened as she took a step towards the open door. She’d been doing it for most of her life and would again. The pain would recede, eventually, back to the low throb of hurt she’d carried all these years.

She stepped onto the porch and once again, her name emerged from behind her, moaned in a pitiful plea.

Now she turned and her gaze fell onto Regina. All the strength and control that typified the woman had disappeared. She was a broken, crumpled figure, pathetic and wanting, desperation trembling in her outstretched fingers.

“I lied,” Emma said, trying not to see how betrayal etched deeper lines in Regina’s features, contorted in pain that Emma herself felt. “Because I am leaving. And I’m taking Henry. I know you can’t follow me. This whole thing you created, Regina? That’s what will stop you from coming after me. You shouldn’t even try.”

She was amazed at how calm her voice sounded, how confident she seemed. How hurtful.

“But I love you, Emma.”

“And I love you,” Emma responded immediately, her voice breaking over the confession she’d tried to hide under lies. She sucked in a breath and let it out in a short rush, her hand once more reaching out for the solidity of the doorway.

“But I don’t love what you are, Regina,” Emma added in a low, tremulous voice. “I can’t. You killed someone. You cursed all those people. My…my parents…”

She stopped, passing a hand over her eyes as fresh tears began falling. Swallowing hard, Emma forced herself to look at Regina, meeting those deep eyes for what felt like the last time. At that moment, Emma wasn’t sure what would hurt her more, to leave Regina and Storybrooke, or to stay, knowing what she did.

So she thought of her son, of the one thing that anchored her to whatever reality existed for them. And, taking a breath, Emma stood upright again and steeled her will as she looked down at Regina.

“I’m taking Henry away before you can ruin his life just like you have everyone else’s,” Emma said in a graveled tone. “Even — even mine.” Regina let out a sob and shook her head; Emma faltered.

“You cursed this town?” Emma pointed at Regina. “Then stay here without Henry. And without me. That’s your curse, Regina.”

She began moving, then stopped, turning to look at what she was leaving but knowing she must go. She must, before her desire to offer redemption suffocated her need to hate.

“It’s all you deserve,” she said. Then, before her sadness could implore her to stay, she ran down the path and quickly got into the car.

As the engine gunned, Henry crouched beside her with wonder and fear in wide eyes, Emma heard a cry reach at her. The sound of Regina’s pain roiled in her stomach, calling out for her heart and grasping it with desperate, needy fingers.

She curled her hands around the steering wheel, gripping tightly. The car lurched forwards with a squeal of tires as she sped off down the street, the urge to escape forming a knot in her chest. Emma gritted her teeth and indulged it, lest she turn back, run to Regina and never leave her side.

Emma guided the car onto Main Street and headed towards the exit road to Boston.

“Emma?”

Henry’s voice was tentative, tinged with a fear that Emma could almost feel coming off him in waves.

“It’s okay, Henry,” she said in as soothing a voice as she could muster. “It’s gonna be okay.”

“You promise?”

She glanced at him, releasing the steering wheel with one hand and patting gently at his shoulder.

“Yeah,” she told him. “I do.”

They drove in silence for a few seconds before Henry turned to her, tilting his head curiously as he gazed at her face in the streetlights flashing by overhead.

“But you’re crying,” he said. Then he frowned and shrugged. “She got your heart, didn’t she?”

Emma scrubbed at her eyes with a balled fist, hating the tears that stung her eyes in pain and grief.

“Yeah, kid,” she said gruffly. “Yeah, she did.”

Henry reached out and placed his hand over Emma’s, squeezing gently. Even White Knights needed help sometimes. But as they headed out onto the freeway, Henry knew that this wasn’t the happy ending he’d wished for so hard.

No; it felt much more like a beginning.

~ ~ ~