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You don't need a specific reason to go to Regina's place.
What bothers you the most is that the door is locked and you keep on ringing the bell. Still, no one answers. Your anxiety doesn't allow to be rational, at the beginning. It's when you simply decide to walk on the backyard that your nerves calm down.
Regina Mills sits on the step, under her porch.
She notices that you're there, but she doesn't even move her head to watch you.
Clearly, she won't openly acknowledge your presence, hoping that you can just disappear, because everything is just weird when you're both sharing the same space.
One step after the another, you're getting close enough to see the glass she's holding in her hands; cider, probably.
Something very strong, even if it's only 4 o'clock in the afternoon. So predictable, Former Madame Mayor.
She doesn't watch you, not even now that you're so close and your body is silently demanding the permission to sit next to her.
She just stares at her tree.
Yes, that tree. The one you cut with a chainsaw, more than a year ago.
And you suddenly remember that afternoon and the anger in your body trying to find that damn device, asking it to people you barely knew, living in that town forgotten by god. You remember you needed it so badly and everyone was just too afraid to stop you, a blonde crazy human being who needed a chainsaw to fix something at the Mayor's residence.
They were scared by you, but probably even more scared by the Mayor.
You sit next to her and you don't even ask if that's ok. You do it because you weren't afraid of her back then, when you cut the branch of that apple tree, and you're pretty sure you're not afraid even now.
And she knows it. Regina Mills thinks that your fears are well hidden in your heart and no one has ever had the privilege to see them. The former Queen has always been very good in wearing masks, in hiding emotions, but the purity of the way you simply control what you feel, well, that's something Regina Mills will always be envious of.
Anyway, it's an unexpected feeling when you see that the anger and tension inside you disappears, being next to her.
If only Regina Mills knew that with your fears it's not a matter of control. Truth is that you've never experienced fear in your heart, especially towards her.
"I've had it since I was a little girl". The voice of the brunette was low, but firm.
You know she is talking about her tree. It's a safe ground for a conversation, especially when you have no idea of why you're sitting next to her. In her backyard, under her porch.
"Why here?" Your question comes out of nowhere.
"The house has high ceilings, but I don't think an apple tree could be a proper decoration for a living room".
You smile at the joke, but avoid the simple gesture of moving slightly your head in search of a smile on Regina's face, because you know you will only find her usual adamant mask, watching that fucking tree.
But between the million questions you can ask her, you again for that "Why here?". And you add, without waiting a second, "And I mean, why this world?".
Regina drinks for the first time since you're there.
A few minutes passes in complete silence.
Then Regina moves subtly. Eye-contact is a luxury she doesn't allow, but that deep breath means she's starting to talk to you.
And you know she's hating you for that. For a question she absolutely needs to answer, especially to you.
"I saw this world a lot of times, through my mirror. I saw objects, materials, references I couldn't even name, back then. I knew there were no magic, and not because someone told me. I could see it in the eyes of those people I had been watching, even studying, for months".
"What did you see in them?"
"The complete lack of surprise in every action they did. You know, Miss Swan...this world craves for the conservation of its condition. This paradox was quite obscure for me, at the beginning. When you can count on magic, in you life, you use it just to improve or worsen a situation. But here, they desire, but they never dare"
You see Regina watching her glass, now. Every word is well-pondered and comes out of her tender lips in a very firm way. You don't dare to interrupt her, because youthink that the privilege of this explanation deserves absolute silence.
"But then I found out that it was exactly the perfect setting for the life I was looking for. A life where I didn't need to improve my living condition, since it could be already at its best, here. And an everlasting, miserable situation was guaranteed for every other person---”
“---involved in the curse”. Regina's hesitation allows you to complete her statement. You're not over the whole curse issue, yet. But you need something to start over.
That's exactly in this moment that Regina eventually watches you, even if it's just for some seconds. Letting someone else complete her sentences it's something too personal and intimate and you can feel how uncomfortable she is.
But the truth in that statement is absolutely unquestionable. And her eyes are on the tree, again.
And suddenly you need to do something to break the ice, to let her know that talking with you it's ok and you're not there to fight or accuse her, because she already has the whole town of Storybrooke doing that.
And you do it through the thing you know less: confidentiality.
You don't even think twice or show a bit of hesitation when you simply take her glass and sip the liquid in it, exactly in the same spot where you see the mark of her lipstick.
Scotch, not cider.
Anyway, it's too strong even for you and your troubles, which are definitely smaller than the ones belonging to the person next to you, anyway. Despite the alcohol spreading in your mouth and throat, you try to act confident because you don't want your voice to be affected by unexpected raucousness when you try to talk to her again.
"So, what's your plan now?". Yes, this conversation is going personal. Blame the scotch.
And you have little time to realize that the next move is not some sardonic statement.
Regina Mills bends gently towards you and the already reduced space between you tails off.
She tries so much, and you can feel that, to make you believe that this movement has only been made to take back her glass, which is clutched in your hands.
Maybe it's the scotch. Maybe that fucking tree has some kind of weird magic spreading across Regina's backyard. Or maybe it's the fact that you've never been afraid of her, so there must be something else behind, if you analyze your feelings.
But behind that engulfing and slow movement there could also something else, maybe a kiss and you're asking yourself if you want it. If you want it now. With those premises of a constant struggle over power and control, like it has always been between the two of you.
You're afraid to close your eyes and she takes it as a challenge. You don't care what she has in mind, at this point, but you know that whatever is going to happen, it will follow your way.
But it's exactly in the moment when you feel her scent, when her longer hair tickle your cheek, when you almost breathe her same air and her right arm touches you that you hope that in her mind there can be something deeper; a real interest, mixed to some kind of curiosity and the desire of making a step that she won't regret in the future.
She bends towards you and your lips are almost touching.
But this time you want to win. You want to control the feelings and not depend on other's choices influencing your life.
A kiss has to come on your terms. And that's why your hand suddenly touches her lips, stopping that kiss.
What's really strange is that this unexpected gesture contradicts the atmosphere you created, where your full body screams to conquer that kiss. Screams to have her.
Regina stands still, and your foreheads are touching.
Your hand's still there on her lips, but this must be a strange concept of refusal since your bodies are still touching, your hearts are exploding and none of you want to move away. You don't even know how your fingers can stay there, not even trembling when in contact of one of the parts of Regina Mills' body you fantasize the most.
Your eyes are silently declaring yourself in charge of this strange fight based on who wants to kiss and who wants to say when it's right to do it. You're the one who will decide when those fingers are going to leave Regina's lips. And you also think that that's a wonderful idea tracking an imaginary line with your thumb on her lips while taking away your hand.
You stand up. Maybe, for once, she will be the one dealing with confusion and frustration, but you can never tell when it comes to Regina Mills.
You put some distance between you two, but that smirk you have on your face, and the fact that you're slowly walking backwards just because you don't want to stop watching her in the eyes, is your way of expressing her that a kiss is the right thing to desire.
You bring your hand on your lips now, getting in contact with the exact spot which was touched by Regina's lips. Who's still sat on the step, under the porch.
You hope she could feel the void of not having you close to her, anymore. And that she could still feel the soft touch of your hands on her lips.
You talk. "I hope this world will surprise you, sooner or later."
And Regina simply nods, because maybe this is really what has just happened.