Chapter Text
“Regina, I need…help.” Snow’s voice echoes strained and rushed in Regina’s ear. The connection is fragile, dropping at times and is full of interfering, crackling noise.
“Snow? Where are you?” Regina covers her other ear.
“…woods. I…lost and…dead. Please…”
Regina’s throat constricts. “I cannot hear you, say that again?”
“I’m…cabin…by…creek.” Regina nods, piecing the garbled words together. Something must have happened at the Charmings’ cottage down by the creek. Something bad. And of course, leave it to Snow White to dial Regina when she is in trouble. Didn’t she have the Savior as a daughter? Shaking her head, Regina grabs her purse and disappears in a plume of purple.
Appearing in front of the cottage, Regina hesitates for a moment before taking a deep breath and pushing at the door. It creaks as it slides open. With furrowed brows, Regina steps into the shadowed cabin. The wood floor under her feet is soft, yielding to every one of her steps.
“Snow?” Regina calls out, stepping further into the room. No sign of anyone. She moves forward, glancing at the little kitchenette in the corner and notes the quaint wood table and chairs right next to it. The cabin smells musty, as if it hasn’t seen any visitors in a while. The ozone smell of magic in the air is making Regina wary. Whatever or whoever is causing trouble for Snow would naturally be magical. It’s not like Snow to cease the habit of becoming the target of sorceresses and imps. Regina reaches out and slowly nudges at the door, cracked open to what she assumes is the bedroom of the cottage. It opens silently and, as she steps inside the room, Regina releases a heavy sigh at finding another empty room. A mixture of relief and anxiety flitters through Regina’s frame and she turns sharply, freezing once heavy footsteps resonate through the cabin.
“Mary Margaret? Mom? Where are you?”
Clenching her jaw, Regina steps back into the living room.
“Miss Swan.” Regina can’t prevent the venom from entering her words. She is really tired of this conflict, but the blonde sheriff has an unprecedented way of setting her teeth on edge by merely being in her presence.
“Regina? What happened? Mary Margaret, she…” Before Emma can finish her sentence the front door slams shut and Regina’s cell phone plays the ominous melody of Dies Irae. Emma’s eyes widen and she barely suppresses a smirk as the dramatic music fills the room.
“Yes!” Regina barks into her phone.
“I’m so sorry, Regina.”
“Yes, that appears to be one of your mantras.”
“You need to fix this. Henry is with us, so don’t worry about him. Talk to Emma, clear the air.”
“I honestly cannot say I feel even the slightest bit of desire to fulfill this request, dear.” Regina’s eyes narrow, taking in the awkward shuffling and fidgeting of the Savior in front of her.
“Too bad. You’re locked in the cabin. So you might as well talk.” Snow’s voice takes on a petulant pitch that reminds Regina of the willful child she once had the urge to strangle on a regular basis.
“You have lost you mind, Snow!”
Emma takes a step closer to Regina once these exasperated words spill from the other woman’s lips.
Regina strides toward the door, pulling and shaking the handle with no effect. She turns and sweeps her hands over her body and purple smoke engulfs her but when it clears she remains standing in the cottage, a sheepish-looking sheriff in front of her, hands stuffed into her pants pockets. Gritting her teeth, Regina puts the phone back to her ear.
“What exactly have you done, Snow?”
“Me? Nothing, directly, at least. Well, it was Gold, really.”
“Have you lost your mind? Forget that, I’m talking to a Charming.” Regina pinches the bridge of her nose. “What did the imp do this time?”
“He’s only helping.”
“Yes, because he is such a generous and altruistic soul.”
“Yes, well, that’s in the past. We’ve all changed, haven’t we, Regina?”
“Snow!”
“He put a spell on the cabin.”
“I figured out that part, dear.”
“It’s self-contained. You can magic things in, I figured you might need clothes and food. Yes, food’s important.”
“Stop rambling, Snow.”
“You cannot magic out, oh, you actually also can’t magic people in. Only inanimate objects.”
“And? For how long will I have to endure the charming presence of your spawn?” Regina uttered the words with such acrimony that one would think the notion was as offensive to her as being exposed to the rancid smell of rotten eggs.
“Until you resolve your issue. There is no time limit.”
“You must be joking!”
“No, Regina. I’m really not. Look, I know what Emma did was painful but she didn’t mean to hurt you and this… this strain between you isn’t good. It’s hurting all of us. Henry.”
“Leave my son out of this, Snow. This is an issue between Miss Swan and I. You had no right to interfere. Then again, meddling in things that do not concern you seems to be another Charming trademark.”
“Regina…”
“Forget it.” Regina snaps her phone shut. “It seems we are stuck here, Miss Swan. Thanks to your officious mother and the golden boy with the perpetual limp.” Regina glares at Emma who shrugs her shoulders.
“I’d gathered that much. Uh... Mom, I mean, Mary Margaret called sayin’ she was in trouble so I came here. But I guess you probably know that already.” Emma grimaces when Regina grunts in response.
Turning, and after a quick deliberation over the cleanliness of the well-worn, cracked tan leather couch, Regina sits down, folding her legs.
Clearing her throat, Emma drifts over and throws herself into a rickety, wooden rocking chair. “Uh, Regina, how long are we gonna be stuck here?”
Scowling at Emma, Regina sighs. “Apparently, Gold put a spell on the cottage that will lift once we have resolved our issues.”
“So we’ll never get out?”
“Is that an attempt to lighten the mood with inappropriate humor, Miss Swan?”
“Maybe?” Emma scrunches up her nose, trying her best puppy dog impression.
“This might work on the pirate, but don’t fool yourself. I’ve raised your son and his pleading expression is much more effective than this amateur endeavor.”
“Well yeah, Henry also had the baby schema going for him.”
Regina raises an eyebrow, but remains silent.
“What? Why are you still shocked that I know stuff?” Emma rubs her hands across the thighs of her skinny jeans.
“There is a reason why I refer to your family as idiots.”
“Yes, but usually you say ‘those two idiots’ and that’s my parents.”
“Of course, Miss Swan. You are an idiot all by yourself.”
Emma picks up a magazine from the small, rectangular glass table in front of her. “Whatever.”
Rummaging through the cupboard of the kitchenette, Emma discovers a box of tea and puts a kettle on the stove.
“You want some tea? It’s black, I think. No idea how old, though.” Emma peels the plastic wrapping off, freeing the tea inside. Lifting the tea bag under her nose, she sniffs, eyes narrowing. “Doesn’t smell like anything.”
Regina saunters over, muttering something that sounds suspiciously like “imbecile” under her breath before waving her hand and, once the purple smoke clears, she pushes an ornate box of Earl Grey in Emma’s direction.
“Got milk and sugar to go with that?” Emma pulls two tea bags out of the box and drops them in the red and blue cups she had rinsed earlier. When she turns around, she finds a carton of milk and a bag of sugar sitting in front of a smugly smirking Regina.
“Although, I’d like to point out, I am not your delivery service. You’ve got your magic back, or so I have heard. Do it yourself next time.”
“Yeah, and who knows what or who I end up magicking in here.” Emma chuckles and pours the boiling water into their cups.
“So desperate for your one-handed pirate already?” Regina sniffs before grasping the blue flower cup, adding a bit of sugar and a drop of milk.
“No, not really. Oh, and how come you can magic stuff in here but you can’t get us out?”
Sighing, Regina takes a sip of the fragrant, too hot liquid. “They obviously didn’t know how long this little therapy session would last, so Gold added the loophole that we can magic inanimate objects inside the cabin, but we cannot leave, or magic people in here. So, no little honeymoon breaks for you and the man wearing the same leather coat for hundreds of years.”
Scalding her tongue on the tea, Emma thumps the cup down on the counter, the hot tea sloshing over the edge of her red rainbow cup and burning her finger. “Ouch!” Emma spins around, turning on the water faucet and releasing a low groan as a stream of cold water runs over the reddening skin of her finger. “Seriously, Regina. Can you drop it? I know you don’t like Hook. He isn’t the problem here. Besides, not like this is my idea of a nice weekend getaway either.” Emma mumbles the last bit, feeling heat rushing to her cheeks.
“Believe me, Miss Swan, I couldn’t care less about that useless, selfish pirate of yours. And if you think that I will enjoy even a minute I have to endure in your presence, you are sorely mistaken.” Abandoning her tea, Regina’s eyes flash before leaving Emma, slamming the door to the bedroom shut.
“Guess that clears up the sleeping arrangement.” Emma tells the empty room, her vision becoming blurry. The events of the last few weeks, the mess she made and now this forced togetherness threaten to overwhelm her. She can’t even run, despite everything inside of her yearning to do just that. She doesn’t want to be here. She wants to get along with Regina again, sure, for Henry’s sake alone. But actually talking about everything that has happened? No, that isn’t anywhere near on Emma’s agenda.
Emma has made eggs, bread, and a pack of Snow’s favorite Brazilian coffee appear at the cabin. She’s making French toast. She hasn’t heard anything from Regina after leaving the kitchen the previous evening. She appeared asleep by the time Emma sneaked in the bedroom to use the adjacent bathroom. Sighing, Emma flips the toast in the frying pan. She is considering waking Regina. It is shortly after nine in the morning, and Emma has expected Regina to be awake first. Then again, she assumes the other woman is not in any particular mood to be in her presence.
“This is crap. We’ll never get out of here,” Emma mutters into the empty room before lowering the flame of the stove and striding toward the bedroom door. Hesitating with a raised hand inches away from brushing against the white door, Emma stumbles backward as the door swings open.
“Your indecisiveness bleeds through closed doors, Miss Swan.”
Emma grits her teeth. “Can we maybe go back to Regina and Emma?”
“I do not know. Can we, Miss Swan?”
Narrowing her eyes, Emma marches back to the stove. “I’ve made French toast. And I got coffee.” She places the food on two plates and fills up two cups with the delicious smelling brew Snow’s odd looking coffee maker has produced. “Milk or sugar?”
“Black.” Regina slowly moves toward the wooden kitchen table.
“Naturally,” Emma murmurs under her breath as she hands Regina her coffee and turns to put the plates on the table. She adds utensils, then grabs her own coffee and sits down. Looking up, she notices Regina still standing next to the table, holding onto the coffee cup as if it is tethering her to the room, or maybe even to the world. Emma hates seeing Regina this lost and small. She hates it even more because she's the cause of it.
“Why don’t you sit down? You must be hungry.” Emma lifts the warm coffee cup to her lips, hoping Regina won’t notice her faintly trembling hands.
“Thank you, Miss… Emma.”
Emma nods, recognizing a truce offering when she sees it. “You’re welcome.”
After finishing her food, Emma looks out of the window. The wind is playing with several red and brown leaves on the damp floor outside. Back in her foster homes she used to love watching the wind twirl leaves in all different directions. She’d wish to be small and light so the wind might whisk her to a different land as well. Emma never dreamed that there actually were any different lands out there. Or that time travel is possible. Time travel that results in ruining the budding relationship between your son’s other mother and her soul mate. Emma’s eyebrows furrow. Sometimes her own thoughts confuse her.
“I’m sorry, Regina.” Emma is playing with the utensils and the metallic clang of fork and knife colliding rings through the room.
“The food is surprisingly edible and the coffee is actually quite palatable. No need to apologize.” Regina drinks another sip of coffee.
“Not what I meant.” Emma drops the knife and fork and pulls at the fingers of her left hand after letting both hands fall into her lap.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Me neither, but we’ll have to if we wanna get out of here.”
Regina looks up, her dark gaze zeroing in on Emma, who forces herself to keep eye contact. Regina’s attention has the tendency to make her chest constrict and sometimes it feels a bit like drowning. The air seems to flee her body and everything around her fades away. She usually refuses to analyze any of her odd and ambivalent reactions to Regina, but the current situation is complicating things.
“Yes. I’m sure you’re very anxious to get out of here.” Regina’s voice drops.
“Well, aren’t you?”
“Of course I am.” Regina clears her throat before standing abruptly, picking up the plates, cups and utensils and rushing toward the kitchen to do the dishes. The moment she reaches the sink, a knife clatters to the floor. The thud of metal striking wood echoes through the room, followed by a soft curse spilling from Regina’s lips. She lowers the load in her hands into the sink and before she can bend down and pick up the fallen knife Emma is at her side, reaching for the knife and adding it to the sink. Once she notices her close proximity to Regina she takes a quick step back, running a hand through her blond curls.
“Thank you, Emma.” Regina whispers before turning on the water faucet. Her eyes remain trained on the water spilling into the sink.
“Sure,” Emma rushes out and goes back to the couch, folding the blanket from the night before.
“How about I get us a TV here?” Emma stretches her legs, yawning. She hasn’t slept well for the last several days and the events of the last twenty-four hours haven’t improved this situation.
“Along with cable? Or how about a computer to enjoy the Wi-Fi free zone?” Regina drawls, not looking up from the old, dusty book she discovered on one of the shelves.
Scratching her head, Emma heaves a sigh. “Then talk to me. I’m bored. Besides, we gotta talk anyway.”
Slamming her book shut, Regina counts to ten internally. She knows she needs to talk to Emma. Maybe with a little help, she thinks.
“I will need alcohol for that.”
“Alcohol? It’s noon!”
“Yes, because you’re the personification of moral behavior.”
“Well, how about we eat something first? That way we won’t end up under the table.”
“Speak for yourself, Miss Swan.”
“Back to that again.” Emma rolls her eyes.
“Fine. I’ll make something to eat. I’m assuming you’ll eat baked chicken and rice?”
Emma nods. “Sure, thanks.”
Regina suppresses a smile at Emma’s pacing and the furtive glances in her direction to see if the food is ready. Emma acts so much like Henry sometimes, Regina thinks, feeling a tug at her heart. Transferring the food onto plates, Regina places them on the table the same moment Emma drops her body into the chair.
“Eat up.” Regina blows at the food on her fork.
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Emma hums before releasing a small groan once the food hits her taste buds. “This is delicious.” She speaks while chewing and Regina raises an eyebrow. “So what’s your poison?” Emma takes a sip of her water.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Alcohol, Regina. You said you wanna get drunk before we talk.”
“I said no such thing,” Regina sniffs.
“Whatever. I figure you’ll magic the drinks since you know better what you’ve got in that wine cellar of yours.”
“Go get the glasses, Miss Swan.”
Chuckling, Emma gets up and walks to the kitchen, choosing two glass tumblers, sure that Regina will magic them something stronger than wine.
Pouring the Royal Salute 38 in the tumblers in front of her, Regina picks up her glass and takes a hearty gulp, enjoying the burning sensation as the liquid travels down her throat. She leans back against the couch, avoiding Emma’s gaze as the blonde slowly sips her drink while rocking the chair.
“So what exactly has to happen for us to be able to leave? Like do we have to kiss and make up?” Emma’s chuckle dies once she notices Regina’s eyes tighten.
“Hardly, Miss Swan. I expect we will have to bury the hatchet.”
“But, uh… not a real one and not in each other, right? I mean, that’d make no sense at all and you’re just being sarcastic, and it’s sometimes really hard to tell.” Emma fiddles with her fingers and closes her eyes. She hates it when Regina makes her ramble.
“If only you could blame the alcohol.” Regina takes another sip of her whiskey.
“Yeah, that would make a lot of things easier. Look, Regina, I know you hate me…”
Regina raises her hand. “I do not hate you, Miss Swan. That would make things significantly easier, don’t you think?” Watching Emma freeze with wide eyes, Regina sighs. “Robin was my last chance at love and you took that from me.” Regina closes her eyes.
“I didn’t know, Regina! I just wanted to save her life.”
“I understand that. But it changes nothing, Emma. You did what you always do, whatever you think is right without contemplating any potential consequences. Yes, it is hard to argue that saving a person’s life is a bad thing. Yet, it could be. You could have saved a psychopathic mass murderer.”
“But I didn’t.”
“Well, you can also cross a busy street blindfolded and remain unharmed. That doesn’t mean it’s a good idea or that your action couldn’t have dire consequences.”
Emma chuckles and Regina glares at her. “It’s just… you are such a mom!”
Regina suppresses a fond smile. Henry is all she has left. And he loves her again. She clings to that. And to the fact that she knows Emma didn’t mean to hurt her. The irony. She knew on some level back then that Snow didn’t mean to hurt her either. But it was much easier to focus her anger on her. Unlike with Snow, it seems almost impossible to feel anything even tenuously resembling hate towards the daughter of her sworn nemesis. Was Snow even her enemy anymore? And why could she never bring herself to hate Emma? Her curse had brought more complications to her life than she’d ever thought possible. It also hasn’t made anyone truly suffer besides Emma. Maybe that is why she cannot summon up the will to detest the meddlesome woman.
“Look, Regina.” Emma’s voice sounds hoarse and draws Regina back into the conversation. “I get it. I understand that why I did what I did doesn’t make this any easier for you. You still lost Robin, but I don’t believe that he was your last chance at love. What makes you think that anyway?”
“And what exactly makes you an expert on love, Miss Swan? All the canoodling with the detergent-challenged pirate?” Regina glares at Emma as she feels her ire rise again. She may not be able to hate the woman, but that doesn’t mean Emma isn’t capable of making her so angry she feels as if she will pop a blood vessel any second. Or set fire to the entire town.
Emma’s head drops and she looks away from Regina. She pulls her legs up on the chair, folding them under her. Taking a long sip of her drink, Emma clears her throat. “No, I’m the last one who should ever give advice on love or relationships.”
Regina frowns, leaning forward, placing her drink on the glass table in front of her. “Things already looking glum with Hook?” Regina’s voice holds no malice, just caution. She hates Hook. After delivering her to be tortured and leaving her for dead, not even a day later, Hook is celebrated as the reluctant, redeemed hero by the so-called good guys. All of a sudden this murdering villain, the husband of Henry’s paternal grandmother, is good enough for the Savior. Snow and Charming don’t mind a villain dating their daughter, as long as… Regina shakes her head, both startled and disturbed by the direction of her thoughts.
“We’re not together.” Emma stands to refill her glass.
“But I thought… you were kissing and…” Regina waves her hand as words fail her.
“Yes. You see, I have the tendency not to get involved. And if I do, I always mess it up. Or better yet, it doesn’t work or I get into it for the wrong reasons.”
“Which case was it this time?”
“Huh?” Emma grimaces as the alcohol burns her esophagus.
“What was the problem with Hook?”
“Oh.” Emma runs a hand down her jeans. “I think the latter. I fell for his infatuation with me. He wants me so much and he went for it, you know? It was annoying at times that he wouldn’t give up, even though I’d made it clear that I didn’t want him. But you know, people usually give up on me. That’s the first thing you learn in foster care. I mean, your parents gave up on you, so why wouldn’t all the others, right?”
Acid rises from Regina’s stomach, clutching at her throat. She closes her eyes for a moment, willing the emotion to taper off, to stop trying to suffocate her. She did this. She knows it, and the only true regret she feels about all she’s done is the life her actions brought Emma.
“I convinced myself to give it a try. To see if these feelings can develop. He’s changed so much and all for me so I thought, well…”
“You owe him?” Regina’s voice gravels.
“Huh? No. That’s not what I thought. It’s more like I took pity on him and humored him, and me. I mean, I thought it could work. That he wanted it enough for the both of us.”
“Things don’t work that way, Miss Swan.” A rueful look crosses Regina’s features. She should know. Everyone she had invited into her bed chambers after freeing herself of the King had one thing in common. They had wanted her. Her body, her power, her leniency. She had indulged them. But she hadn’t cared for any of them. They had been entertainment. Unlike Graham. She had convinced herself that making him forget and then desire her was penance for his crime. But she had only ended up dishing out the same pain that had long ago frozen her heart.
“I know. But that’s another thing you learn in foster care. You try to please everyone but yourself. You have to be defective, otherwise your parents would have kept you. That’s what you tell yourself. And Mary Margaret and David, they… I know they are my parents and I know they love me. I know they didn’t want to give me up.” Emma catches Regina’s gaze and a shudder runs down her back at the whirlwind of emotions flickering through the other woman’s dark eyes. She takes in the muscle movements of Regina’s throat as the former mayor swallows hard. “I’m not… this is not to make you feel guilty. You did what you did, but so did they. My parents chose to put me in that wardrobe. Sending me away, to a different world they didn’t know. Alone, a mere hours old baby. They could have kept me and lived with the curse.”
“They thought I’d kill you.” Regina whispers.
A humorless chuckle leaves Emma’s lips. “How many children have you killed, Regina?”
“Excuse me?”
“During your reign as the Evil Queen. How many children have you slaughtered?”
“None.” Regina exhales sharply. “But that’s beside the point. Your parents didn’t know that. There were enough horror stories floating around. I had never denied them, neither caring for the opinions of others nor averse to creating more fear within my subjects.”
“But you’ve had so many chances to kill my parents, and yet you never did.”
“That’s not reason enough to risk the life of their child.”
“Stop defending them!” Emma closes her eyes at hearing her shrill shout resonate through the cottage.
Regina starts to laugh. A low chuckle at first, but it soon turns into a full out belly laugh. She bends forward, clutching her stomach before raising her hand to wipe the stray tears from her eyes. “I’m sorry, Emma. I am not laughing at you.” Regina gathers herself; Emma’s eyes narrow, demanding an explanation. “It’s just, this must have been the very first time someone accused me of defending the two idiots and it’s just so absurd, all of this! Us, here, and with everything that has happened in the last few weeks and since you’ve gotten here, actually. Here we are, trapped in your parents’ cabin in the woods, drinking whiskey and talking as if we’re each other’s confidantes.”
“But weren’t we on our way to being friends? Before… you know, before the time travel thing? After Neverland?”
Regina’s eyes widen. “I don’t know, Emma. I thought we’d come to a truce, albeit reluctantly, but that truly was all I ever dared to hope.” Regina frowns, taken aback by the words leaving her mouth.
“I mean, I know you carry all this anger and angst and your relationship with everyone in Storybrooke is, well, complicated is an understatement. So I get that you might’ve looked at things from a different perspective. But to me, you were always just Regina. The ‘high-strung control-freak’ out to protect Henry.”
“If this is how you describe your friends, Miss Swan…” Regina raises an eyebrow but the smile tugging at her lips lets Emma know she is not truly mad.
“I really like it better when you call me Emma.”
“Yes, I do too. It means I don’t feel the urge to strangle you.”
Emma laughs, relieved at the more peaceful mood spreading through the cabin. “How about a good old fashioned game of truth or dare?” Emma grins, close to finishing her second glass of whiskey.
“This isn’t a teen slumber party, Miss Swan. Besides, you’re already drunk.”
“I’m sure drunken teens would get into quite a bit of trouble. Playing truth or dare would be the least of their worries. Come on, Regina. Being drunk means it’s even funner. More truth for you.”
“Indeed, if you’re already starting to make up new words.”
“Yes, that’s all part of the package. Charming, huh?”
“Did anyone ever tell you that your puns are funny? Is that why you keep making them? I hate to burst your bubble, dear, but whoever told you this, they were lying.” Regina rolls her eyes.
“Ha ha. You’re up for it, Madam Mayor? We might as well pass the time with something fun. And I’m not really drunk, just tipsy.”
“If you say so. Be careful what you wish for. Sometimes the truth is the last thing you want to hear and once you know something, you can never take it back.”
Emma tilts her head, taking in Regina’s somber expression. “I know, Regina.”